Birding Notes

Today has been sunny, windy and very cold all day. When I went for a walk about half an hour before the sun went down, the wind had eased a little, the sky looked clear, and a blurry gibbous moon was rising in the east. As I walked past a house with a large grassy yard, a tiny Ruby-crowned Kinglet flew suddenly to the edge of the grass along the road – only inches away from my feet – and immediately began rapidly searching in the short, dry grass-edge for food, flicking its wings and moving quickly. It was so close that if I had leaned down, I could have touched it. And so close that its extremely small size was much more obvious than usual. It looked fragile in this frigid, windy weather – though I know it must be pretty tough to survive at all. 

Its colors were bright and clear, a little gray-green bird with sharp white marks on its wings and a white ring around its eye, and I could even see – because it was right below me – a thin sliver of ruby-red on its crown. I stopped and watched, and it seemed to pay no attention to me at all, completely absorbed in its search for food. As it moved, I walked along beside it, very slowly, and for a few moments it continued to forage like this, right along the edge of the road and grass. After a few minutes, it suddenly flew back across the road toward a line of evergreen trees and big shrubs. 

I hope it found enough food and survived the night – maybe tucked deep into a good thick evergreen. 

This morning when I came downstairs, a White-throated Sparrow was sitting on the rim of the birdbath trying to sip water from around the edges – most of the water was frozen solid. So I took out a pitcher of warm water and poured it onto the ice, and it was only a few minutes before a number of birds began to come again.

The day was cold and half-cloudy with only a pale blue sky and veiled sunlight. A Carolina Wren sat on top of a large bush by the front porch and sang brightly. Several of our most familiar birds were visiting both feeders – Chipping Sparrows, Carolina Chickadees, Tufted Titmouse. White-throated Sparrows and Northern Cardinals scratched in the thick leaf-cover under the feeders and around all the shrubs. The bare-limbed oaks and pecan trees overhead seemed mostly empty, but I saw a couple of small birds and heard the chip calls of Yellow-rumped Warblers. An Eastern Towhee sat high in the branches of a crape myrtle and called its rich chur-whee.

A White-throated Sparrow and a Chickadee were among the first birds to come for water – one on each side. Then I was happy to see a big, handsome Brown Thrasher come and stay long enough to take several drinks, before diving back into the nearby cover of azalea shrubs. Then a very pretty Eastern Bluebird flew to the birdbath rim and also stayed to take several sips. In the misty morning light, its colors looked muted and soft, like an Impressionist painting. 

It was later in the morning when I looked out our living room windows to check out the birdbath again – the temperature still below freezing – and there sat a White-throated Sparrow, right in the middle of the water, its neatly-outlined white throat and gray breast, and black-and-white striped crown, and warm, streaked brown back all looking clean and sparkling. It dunked itself fully under the water, raised its head and shook all over, and then submerged again, and again, taking a good full bath, as if the day were as balmy as May. When it flew away and into the cover of the bushes, I could see many shards of ice still floating on the surface of the water. 

As I came down the driveway, back home from the walk, I heard the chattering rattles of “our” Red-headed Woodpecker in the area where it so often seems to be – in the oaks that spread below the end of our driveway and up a slope to the edge of our neighbor’s yard. 

The woodpecker was clinging to the side of a large pecan tree at the corner of our neighbor’s house where I have watched it several times. Its brilliant, flashy colors stood out so brightly that I realized the young woodpecker now seems to be almost completely in mature plumage. When I first saw it, it was rather brownish all over, with a totally brown head. Its head now looks almost completely bright red, with just a little brown still showing around the edges. With its snow-white breast and panels in the wings, and its black back and wings – it is stunning.

I watched as it did something in this pecan tree – perhaps storing more food there, though I wasn’t sure. Then it flew – calling its loose rattle as it did – back to the trees below our driveway. And for a few minutes, I watched as it flew back and forth among the nearby trees. It called frequently – very vocal! But I wasn’t able to see it well enough to see exactly what it was doing in each tree. 

We’ve been very lucky to have this young Red-headed Woodpecker spend the winter season in trees so close around our home. And not only is this one special enough – but I’ve also heard the calls of Red-headed Woodpeckers from at least two other locations behind homes on our road, fairly widely spaced. In both of these areas, there are lots of trees and wooded spaces, in areas that slope down to a creek. Because they are pretty far back away from the road, I have not seen any of the others – but I hear their calls almost every time I walk along this road – and have been able to confirm this with Merlin.So this winter here in Summit Grove seems to be a rare Red-headed Woodpecker winter!

Late this morning, under an iron-gray sky, the air felt cold and still. But quite a few small birds brought the front yard to life. Chipping Sparrows, Carolina Chickadees and American Goldfinches crowded the feeders, justling for space. Several Northern Cardinals, male and female, foraged on the ground, perched in shrubs and flew from spot to spot with flashes of red. I think we’ve seen more Cardinals here this winter than ever before. I didn’t see a White-throated Sparrow but heard lots of rustling in dry leaves from hidden spots, and some quiet tseet calls. Yellow-rumped Warblers flitted in the bare branches of the oaks and pecan trees. A Ruby-crowned Kinglet called jidit-jidit as it traveled through shrubs – and very briefly paused close enough so that I could see its tiny gray-green head, bright, white-ringed eye and quickly flicking wings among the leaves of a Savannah holly.

A Red-bellied Woodpecker called its dry chucking calls, and an Eastern Bluebird sang from somewhere near – the most musical sound on this rather quiet morning. I looked especially for a Hermit Thrush – but didn’t see a sign of one today.

Birds along most of my walk through the neighborhood were much more quiet and less active than around our own yard, but it was still a fine walk in crisp and cold fresh air, and I counted 21 species in all, though very few birds in number, most of them heard, not seen. I especially noticed the complete absence of any blackbird flocks. This has been a sad change this winter season here. For the past many years blackbird flocks have been almost daily visitors to Summit Grove, spreading out across the many large, grassy yards. Most have been Common Grackles, but we’ve also been lucky enough to see a fair number of Rusty Blackbirds too. Watching and following them as they fed in grassy spots and standing under the sudden whoosh! of their wings when a large flock suddenly flies – those are happy memories from years past. And – I can hope, maybe next year. This year I have seen very few, very small numbers of blackbirds now and then, but they’ve been sporadic and infrequent. And in general, there certainly have been fewer birds here this winter than in the past – a lot has changed around the neighborhood and I think our observations here also reflect the fact that birds are disappearing at a frightening rate almost everywhere.

But it’s still worth watching and listening – and you never know when an unexpected sighting or sound will come along. A Yellow-bellied Sapsucker mewed several times from trees well back from the road, too far away to see. And a small flock of Cedar Waxwings showered high, needle-like calls from the bare branches of trees along the roadside. When they took flight, I saw about ten together – and I think there were others still in the trees.

As I was approaching home, about a dozen Chipping Sparrows flew up in sprays from our front yard grass and I stopped to say good morning to two of them perched in the small, bare-limbed redbud trees. The Chipping Sparrows looked pert and pretty with bright, rusty-red crowns.

As I was cleaning up the kitchen after breakfast this morning, I stopped to watch through the kitchen window as several birds came to our small back deck. A Tufted Titmouse, a bright red Northern Cardinal, a Carolina Wren – and three Yellow-rumped Warblers. They checked out the corners and crevices of the deck flooring, rails, edges around the screened porch and the porch roof. I don’t know what, if anything, they found. We used to have a lot more spiders and insects, even in winter, that might hide out in corners. But the past few years we’ve seen fewer and fewer spiders and insects of any kind – and I do worry that birds are not able to find enough food. In fact, I’m almost certain this scarcity must take a toll.

The Yellow-rumped Warblers were especially sweet, and they came so close to the window that I enjoyed a beautiful and rare close-up view of these little gray-brown birds, so that each one came so clearly to life I could almost feel what it would be like to touch them. In their subdued winter plumage, they are small gray-brown songbirds with streaks on the breast and sides, smudges of yellow under the wings, and of course, a butter-yellow rump.  

Most of the time they appear as almost anonymous “little gray birds” flitting around the trees, so it’s special to have a chance to see them so close-up and appreciate the fine and even intricate details of their winter feathers that might look very plain from a distance.

Late on a cold, clear, softly sunny morning, a scattering of birds moved around our front yard. Northern Cardinals, White-throated Sparrows and two Dark-eyed Juncos scratched up leaves and foraged for seeds. There was a lot of rustling in dry leaves under the shrubs, and I caught glimpses of Eastern Towhees, a Carolina Wren, a Brown Thrasher. Two Chipping Sparrows sat on one feeder as they so often do, just sitting for long periods of time, eating. 

A Ruby-crowned Kinglet called jidit-jidit as it moved through the wax myrtles and into a Savannah holly. A few Yellow-rumped Warblers scattered chip calls as they flew from branch to branch in the bare-limbed oaks and pecan trees. A Downy Woodpecker whinnied and explored the bark of a tree near the feeders. Both Brown-headed Nuthatch and White-breasted Nuthatch called from somewhere nearby, but neither came close enough to see.

A Yellow-bellied Sapsucker flew to the middle of a pecan tree, and paused just briefly in a spot where the sun lit it beautifully, showing a gleaming crimson throat and crown and black-and-white striped face, before it flew away again.

As I walked to the bottom of our driveway I heard the now-familiar rattle of a Red-headed Woodpecker. I have continued to hear it almost any day when I’m outside, though in this busy holiday season, that hasn’t been as often as I’d like. It only took a minute to spot it on a dead standing tree just below the driveway. The snag is broken off at the top and has lost about half of its bark, but it is still fairly tall, and stands among several living oaks. The woodpecker stayed on this snag for several minutes, moving from spot to spot, and as I watched, I realized that it showed quite a bit of red on its head, though still mixed with brown. Its large white wing panels were marked with broken black bars. 

The brown heads of juvenile Red-headed Woodpeckers gradually turn red during their first winters, and this one seems to be turning red fairly early in the season. 

I left the woodpecker still working on the standing remnant of a dead tree and walked through the neighborhood, and when I returned, I found it in the same area, and watched it fly several times to other trees, but return each time to the dead tree, which must have offered some good places to find and store food. 

This morning was a glorious, spirit-lifting day. A gentle blue December sky with long, trailing fingers of clouds here and there, high and thin. The temperature was in the upper 30s, with a crisp northwest breeze. And quite a lot of bird activity.

When I first stepped out onto the front porch, several White-throated Sparrows, two Northern Cardinals and two Dark-eyed Juncos were searching the leaf-mulch below the feeders for seeds. Two Chipping Sparrows, a Carolina Chickadee, Tufted Titmouse, a Downy Woodpecker and a Carolina Wren crowded the larger feeder, coming and going. The dry jidit-jidit call of a Ruby-crowned Kinglet laced its way through wax myrtles and Savannah holly. An Eastern Towhee, White-breasted Nuthatch and Brown-headed Nuthatches all were calling nearby. A Red-bellied Woodpecker explored the trunk of one tree after another, stopping to call chuck chuck.

And – maybe best of all – the chip calls of several Yellow-rumped Warblers skipped through the bare treetops as the little birds flew from spot to spot. 

But then, for several minutes, as I left our yard and walked down the road, the day became very quiet. Winter quiet, with no insect sounds and, for a while, few or no birds nearby. 

Until, from far up in the bare branches of pecan trees along the edge of the road came the very high, sibilant ti-ti-ti calls of a Golden-crowned Kinglet. In the cold, crisp, quiet winter air, the calls were very distinct, and no doubt at all about what it was. I could see a little bird, moving like a kinglet, but it was too high up for me to be able to see any details or even catch a glimpse of color before it flew further away. But it was still so nice just to know that this winter we are lucky enough to have a Golden-crowned Kinglet or two that I can find now and then. 

Soon after that, I heard several mewing calls from a Yellow-bellied Sapsucker – also standing out so clearly against the background quiet. I found it on the side of a pecan tree, far back from the road and moving around the trunk, so I couldn’t see it very well. But it continued to mew again and again, a pretty, expressive, familiar call. 

A large shadow suddenly sailed low over my head, and I looked up to see the pale underside and wide, outstretched wings of a Red-tailed Hawk. It swept up to a branch in a bare-limbed tree not far away, showing a warm red tail as it settled. And immediately, as if they’d been waiting, a dozen or more American Crows came from another direction, cawing wildly, their “hawk alarm” calls. They kept harassing it until it flew away again.

Further on, a Pine Warbler sang its lovely trill from trees around a small pond that sits far back from the road in a kind of small, manicured meadow. This area often attracts a good many birds, and this morning was a good example. Three handsome Northern Flickers foraged in the short, dry grass around a cluster of trees. A Northern Mockingbird sat in the top of a big old cedar tree, facing the morning sun. An Eastern Phoebe hunted from low branches, quietly bobbing its tail. A few American Goldfinch flew over, calling their light “potato-chip” calls. Several Blue Jays cried. A few plaintive calls of House Finches. And more Red-bellied Woodpeckers, Downy Woodpeckers, Carolina Chickadees, Tufted Titmice, Carolina Wrens, Eastern Towhees, and Ruby-crowned Kinglets. A solitary Turkey Vulture flew over rather low.

Although the whole walk this morning was beautiful, like a southern winter scene in a clear globe, sparkling with birds and sounds, the highlight for me came near the end, as I was on my way back home. In one yard, two Common Grackles were foraging among grass and shrubs and trees along the edge of the road. Big, showy, strutting birds with long bills, long tails and iridescent black plumage. I could hear a very few more blackbirds not far away but at first didn’t see any others. We have seen so few blackbirds this winter here compared to past years that I’m very happy to see two Grackles – and I stood for a few minutes watching them. This was in an area that’s very close to the county’s water treatment plant and a creek.

On the far side of this same yard and much further back from the road, I saw several songbirds searching the ground around a large forsythia bush, including a Brown Thrasher, two White-throated Sparrows – and six blackbirds that were not grackles. They were smaller, moving differently, with pale yellow eyes and slender bills. They kept moving around the bush, so I could only see glimpses of them at a time until two emerged into a sunlit spot – showing a warm rusty sheen over their backs. Both were Rusty Blackbirds. 

This morning began in the low 40s and felt colder, with a raw, damp edge in the air and a breeze from the east. It was a very gray day with layers of gray clouds but no rain until the early afternoon. When I stepped out onto our front porch, Carolina Chickadees and Tufted Titmice were coming and going from the two feeders. A Downy Woodpecker was working here and there in the bare limbs of the trees. Several Northern Cardinals foraged in dry leaves on the ground, especially under the feeders. Two Chipping Sparrows sat on one of the feeders eating, as they often do, now and then dislodged by a Titmouse or Chickadee. A Carolina Wren clung to the hanging block feeder it favors, eating what looked like black sunflower seeds. Yellow-rumped Warblers flew from spot to spot among the wax myrtles and trees, calling their chip calls. A Ruby-crowned Kinglet chattered. 

I could hear lots of rustling in dry leaves, under the shrubs and all around, and very quiet seet calls, and slowly I began to see a White-throated Sparrow here – and there. One sitting up on the edge of an azalea shrub. Another scratching up leaves below the birdbath. Another two – or three – out foraging in the carpet of leaves and woody mulch.

A fawn-brown bird flew to the rim of the birdbath right in front of me – and though it sat with its back to me, I knew immediately from the smooth brown of its back and the distinctly reddish tail and the upward tilt of its head, it was a Hermit Thrush. One of the happiest sights I could have wished for. It was only a few feet away, so close! And it turned its head toward me a bit, so I could see its face in clear close-up, with its wide, watchful eye, and some of the streaks on its throat and upper chest. 

I’ve been hoping for a Hermit Thrush for weeks now, and this is the first one I’ve seen. Though a Hermit Thrush is not actually very shy, it is solitary in its habits, at least in the winter season when it’s here. So I wouldn’t expect to find flocks of them, but individual birds that each seem to settle into their own winter territories – like our yard, and the yards of some of our neighbors, and certain spots in the woods – where I might count on seeing one often.

After only a minute or so, a big red Northern Cardinal flew to the birdbath and the Hermit Thrush flew away. But then, in not too many more minutes, the Cardinal flew away and the Hermit Thrush returned to the same spot on the birdbath, and I watched it sit and take several sips of water, tipping its head far back with each careful sip to swallow. My view of it was so close and so very clear, and it felt as if it didn’t mind my presence or my watching. I’m sure it was only my imagination that it watched me with as much interest as I watched it. But who knows. 

I can’t know if this is the same Hermit Thrush that spent last winter here around our yard, or a different one, but it still feels like a friend returning. And I don’t even know if this one has only just arrived, or if maybe it’s been around for a while. But I have been watching and listening for it – especially for its quiet, liquid chup call – and I have not heard that call until today, when I heard it coming from somewhere in the line of wax myrtles after it had flown away again. 

Since late October, we’ve continued to hear the loose, rattling calls of a juvenile Red-headed Woodpecker in trees around our back yard and our neighbor’s. It often sounds close, but I don’t often see it. This morning when I got back home after a walk, I heard the calls again – and this time I was lucky enough to see it just as it flew to a rather high spot on one fork of a tall pecan tree. In its bill was something that looked like a large acorn, and I watched as the woodpecker tucked the object into a crevice in the tree. It didn’t work at it long, just immediately tucked its bill toward and into the tree. It tapped at it two or three times, and then began to explore other spots nearby with its bill. 

Red-headed Woodpeckers are one of only four woodpecker species in North America that are known to store food like acorns and other nuts and seeds, or even insects like grasshoppers. They wedge them into crevices and cover them with wood or bark. So this was really interesting to see! My view wasn’t close enough to see if this one was covering what it had stored, but it did tap at it briefly.

The woodpecker – a juvenile with a full brown head and brownish-black back, and wings with large white panels – stayed in this one pecan tree for several minutes, calling its rattling call from time to time. Across the lower part of the white wing panels was a pattern that looked like dark, partly-scalloped lines. The woodpecker moved from the fork of the tree out onto a much-thinner branch, where it sat for a while and preened, addressing its back and wings and breast, each in turn. In only a minute or two its feathers looked fluffed up and downy all over. 

I kept watching until my neck was sore from leaning back – the woodpecker was pretty high up in the tree. But it was a lot of fun to see, and it’s not every year we have one stay around for a while. 

Today has been a cloudy day with cooler temperatures and drizzling rain all afternoon. Our home feels submerged in the orange-brown leaves of the white oak trees that surround us. Around noon, as we sat on the screened porch for lunch, with a very light patter of rain all around, the high, thin calls of Golden-crowned Kinglets sparkled in the oaks above us. They were too high up for me to see, but they stayed around for half an hour or more as the kinglets moved here and there among the leaves, sounding silvery and twinkling, like glitter scattered over a small part of the misty, mellow, contemplative day.