Archive for September, 2024

Pool Party on a Sunny Day at the Birdbath

Thursday, September 19th, 2024

Three Tufted Titmice started it all, arriving with lively chatter and taking turns splashing in the water of the shallow birdbath that stands among several shrubs in our back yard. Sometimes one would sit on the edge to wait for its turn, another would wait in the leaves of a nearby bush or fly up to a low branch of an oak to shake off and preen. They all scattered when a big plump female Northern Cardinal flew in and settled herself right in the middle of the water to soak for several moments, letting her wings spread and float. Before long, one of the Titmice came back to the rim and sat for a few bold moments, as if to hurry her along. But then a male Cardinal arrived with a crimson flash – and all three of them flew away. 

It was soon after noon on a warm, sunny, very dry September day, with big white clouds crowding and drifting in a soft blue sky. A bright yellow American Goldfinch chose to go to a different spot for water – flying to the hummingbird feeder that hangs from the edge of the deck. It paused briefly, then went to the center of the feeder to cling upside down and drink from the water moat there. It’s a tiny thimble of water, but apparently suits the Goldfinches and also the Nuthatches, which also come often to drink there. Ruby-throated Hummingbirds were coming steadily to the feeders for nectar, and when a larger bird stops by, they usually back off, but sometimes hover nearby, twittering impatiently. 

Meanwhile, two Eastern Bluebirds appeared on the rim of the birdbath together, coming just to drink, and then flying together back into the trees. A House Finch came after them, also just to drink, and then flew into a pine to sing a cheerful-sounding song. Two White-breasted Nuthatches that flew to the trunk of a young white oak showed no interest in the birdbath, but spent several minutes searching the bark of the trunk and calling back and forth to each other in quiet, short, intimate notes. 

A Downy Woodpecker came to the rim of the birdbath and spent several moments sitting there and taking lots of sips of water – the biggest surprise of all the birdbath visitors. It did not get into the water to bathe, but it stayed for quite a while, just drinking. I think this may be the first time I’ve ever seen a Downy come to a birdbath to drink. Maybe they often do, and I’ve just not seen it, that’s possible. But it seemed unusual to me. 

Meanwhile, several Carolina Wrens sang and trilled and fussed nearby, and one visited the potted plants on the deck, checking out corners and crevices and cracks, searching for spiders and insects, and then sat on the deck rail to sing a loud, glorious song. 

Chipping Sparrows

Thursday, September 12th, 2024

On a gray, cloudy, cool and damp morning, few birds seemed to be out and around. But in one neighbor’s large, grassy yard, several little brown sparrows popped up into view now and then. When down in the grass, searching for food, they became almost invisible, but they frequently moved from spot to spot in short flights, and some also hopped up onto a wire cage surrounding a young gingko tree – where the bright reddish-brown caps, brown-streaked backs, smooth gray breasts and long tails of Chipping Sparrows could easily be seen, and their crisply marked faces with dark eyelines bordered in white or pale gray.

Chipping Sparrows are among our most familiar birds here. Through the summer months their long, level trilling songs can be heard almost everywhere. Even in the first week of August a few still were singing. But now the songs have stopped, and the small, lively birds have begun to gather in small flocks that forage together for food. The group I saw this morning was fewer than a dozen in number, but as the season goes on, they might gather in flocks of several dozen. Even then, they can be inconspicuous until something startles them into flight – and they spray up in a sudden burst of flashing wings.

Yellow-billed Cuckoo

Tuesday, September 10th, 2024

It’s been a long, hot summer here, part of a long, difficult year. Early September has come to us like a sudden dream, with cool mornings and mild sunny days. I’m afraid to trust its promise. 

This morning began wonderfully cool – around 58 degrees when I first stepped outside, and sunny and bright. Ruby-throated Hummingbirds were already coming and going from the feeder, twittering, humming, and dueling in fast swoops and dives, hovering outside the screens to look inside and checking out red flowers on the deck, and somehow managing to come for quiet moments of sipping nectar now and then. 

Carolina Wrens sang bright songs and trilled responses. A Pine Warbler sang its gentler, lyrical trill from trees and dense vegetation on the edge of our yard. A Brown-headed Nuthatch or two called in their squeaky, cheerful-sounding way from the pines, just briefly. A Downy Woodpecker whinnied its shimmering rattle. A Red-eyed Vireo called in a harsh, whining way from a hidden spot in some oaks. A Tufted Titmouse sang peter-peter from not far away, and Carolina Chickadees chattered quietly.

By the time I got outside for a late-morning walk, the day had heated up quickly under a faded-blue, cloudless sky – and almost every bird around seemed to have taken refuge and fallen quiet, except for an abundance of Blue Jays and American Crows, and a couple of Turkey Vultures circling low, making shadows that swept across the grass and road. 

When a long-tailed bird flew across the road not far ahead of me, stopping in the lower branches of a pecan tree, I stopped to check it out and was surprised and happy to see a sleek, elegant bird as exotic in appearance as its name – a Yellow-billed Cuckoo, a slender, long bird with a smooth taupe-brown back and crown, cream-white breast and belly, and the down-curved yellow bill. The tail was long and, seen from below, black with big dramatic white spots. Touches of cinnamon color showed in the wings. It’s one of our most impressive summer birds, and one of the least-often seen because it spends most of its time high up in the canopy of hardwood trees. Its distinctive, percussive calls, however, can quite often be heard throughout the summer months. 

A Yellow-billed Cuckoo is not a fluttery bird. It takes its time, moving deliberately, almost royally, along and through branches and leaves as it searches for insects and other food – especially for caterpillars, a favorite. I watched it for several minutes as it hunted, moving from spot to spot, but not leaving this tree. It sat in a rather hunched posture over a branch, and then made a quick plunge back into the leaves – and turned back around with a long dark wiggling caterpillar in its bill. It shook the caterpillar several times, then worked it into its bill to eat.

After several charmed minutes, an especially loud truck came by and the Cuckoo disappeared, flying toward other trees further away from the road. But I’d had a wonderful time watching it! A brief, enchanted window into a world we so seldom see. 

There is some concern about the future of Yellow-billed Cuckoos because populations have declined by more than 30 percent over the past 50 years. Loss of the woodland habitat they need, with streams or other water nearby, is one of the main reasons for the decline, and efforts to protect or restore this kind of habitat could be helpful.