Cedar Waxwings in Cleyeras
Around four o’clock one sunny, cool afternoon last weekend, I noticed some birds in the trees outside one of our windows, and when I cautiously pulled up the blind, a tiny, bright Ruby-crowned Kinglet was moving through the branches of a water oak right at eye level, not three feet away. Its ruby crown didn’t show – but it was spritely and pretty, a clear gray-green, with white wingbars and white ring around the eye.
Further out in the yard, Carolina Chickadees and Tufted Titmice were going back and forth from trees to both of two feeders. White-throated Sparrows and Dark-eyed Juncos scratched in the leaves below the feeders and around the shrubs. Chipping Sparrows were feeding in the grass up near the roadside. Several Yellow-rumped Warblers flew from spot to spot in the trees, and House Finches perched on branches and visited the feeders. One Eastern Phoebe hunted from low limbs. Two Downy Woodpeckers checked over the bark of an oak, and a female Eastern Bluebird preened on a branch in the sun.
Two Yellow-rumped Warblers and one male House Finch perched together on the rim of the bird bath, sipped water, hopped in and out – and then one Yellow-rumped Warbler and the House Finch both plunged all the way in and fluttered their wings and bathed vigorously. This time of day – around 4:00 in the afternoon – often seems to be a popular time to come for baths, and though no bluebirds were here while I was watching this time, they’re among the most frequent afternoon bathers.
The most colorful part of the party – at least from my perspective in a second-floor window – came when about a dozen Cedar Waxwings suddenly appeared in a rush and flurry – almost hurtling down out of nowhere – into three large cleyera bushes close to the house. They dived into the glossy green leaves and rustled around so that the bushes were all aflutter with them. Three or four at a time came out into view, then disappeared again, and one emerged and sat briefly still and stunning – an unusually close and beautiful view. The taupe-brown plumage looked so smooth it might have been polished. On the face, feathery lines of white edged the black mask; an enameled drop of red touched the wing and yellow rimmed the tip of the tail. Altogether I could only breathe, “wow.” They did not stay long enough.
This is the most activity I’ve seen around our front yard so far this season. Many days this fall I’ve looked or stepped outside and could see or hear not a single bird – something so unusual I still am puzzled. This is the first year ever when there’ve been so few birds so often. So it was a particular pleasure to watch all this activity, and my only complaint was that I could hear nothing, because the windows were closed, and felt sure I was missing still other birds. But to open a window, even a crack, or to go downstairs and out the front door, would have sent all the birds flying, so I just enjoyed a silent show. The one exception was a pair of Carolina Wrens in nearby branches. The male’s full-throated song and the female’s rich trill came right through the glass – quite unlike the small chips, mews, peeps, chitters and other dry sounds of most of our winter birds.