Birding Notes

When I stepped out the door about 9:30 this morning, the air already felt warm and sultry. This first full day of summer would be a hot one. From the front porch, I saw an Eastern Bluebird slip into the bluebird box in the shade of some oaks, so it looks like a pair is, indeed, nesting there again. A Great Blue Heron flew slowly over the house, heading south in a hazy blue and white sky – a good omen.

Birds were rather quiet all through the neighborhood, except for Northern Mockingbirds, which seem to love this hot weather. Several sang with great enthusiasm and flourishes in different places. Many Northern Cardinals also sang, and few Brown Thrashers, Chipping Sparrows, an Eastern Phoebe and an occasional Carolina Wren.

Near the crest of a wooded hill, a Scarlet Tanager was singing in the same area where I’ve heard it just about every day for the past two weeks. I usually don’t even try to see it, he stays so well hidden in the foliage of the treetops, but this morning, he sounded close to the road in a tall pine, so I stopped to look – and found not only a brilliant male Scarlet Tanager, but also a rose-red Summer Tanager male, on another branch of the same tree, only a few feet away.

The Summer Tanager appeared to be eating something, though I was too far away to see what, maybe a caterpillar or some kind of insect. The Scarlet Tanager looked agitated by the presence of the other red bird, though I only saw them briefly, not long enough to tell for sure. At the same time, a Great Crested Flycatcher called whreeep from somewhere in the green needles of the same tree several times.

With the two tanagers so close together in the same tree, the contrast between them was particularly clear. Though both are very red, the shades of red, the size and shape of the birds, their postures and behaviors – all are quite different. The Scarlet Tanager looked smaller, neater, more compact, with glassy red plumage and sleek black wings, and a small, round head and bill. Its posture was low to the branch. The Summer Tanager, with its crested head, long heavy bill, slightly blowsy rose-red color and more upright posture looked larger, though I think there’s only a slight difference in their size. The Summer Tanager appeared more relaxed, easygoing and confident; the Scarlet more intense.

The Scarlet sang a couple of times, then watched the Summer Tanager as it ate whatever it had found. Then the Summer Tanager flew, and the Scarlet flew immediately after it, as if in pursuit. I could hear the Scarlet Tanager sing again in just a few seconds, proclaiming his control of this territory. This is an area where both tanager species have often been found in previous summers, but this year I’ve only occasionally heard a Summer Tanager song or call along this wooded road, or seen one.

An Eastern Phoebe hunted from low branches in a shady yard. A Blue Grosbeak sang from a treetop on the edge of a meadow-like yard with lots of shrubs and small trees. A Barn Swallow swooped around another open yard and flew up under the porch roof where I think the Swallows are nesting – and I could hear the cries of baby birds. A little further on, an Eastern Bluebird flew out of the blue newspaper box by the roadside where a pair is nesting – and the cries of baby birds came from inside there, too. I hope they make it. With free-roaming cats and other hazards all around, their nest seems in a particularly vulnerable situation.

In the past couple of days, the roadside along the old field has been mowed, so where there had been tall grasses, purple thistles, Queen Anne’s Lace, false dandelions and other wildflowers and weeds, now there’s a wide swathe of drying mowed grass, for several yards between the road and the field. But an Indigo Bunting still sang, a tiny, intensely-blue dot in the top of a shaggy tree – maybe a wild cherry tree – in the field, and a White-eyed Vireo sang from somewhere in the thickets. Two or three Mockingbirds sang, Mourning Doves sat on the wires, and a Black Vulture sat on top of one of the utility poles.

When I got back home, a silvery-gray little bird with a long upturned tail was foraging in mulch around the side of the driveway, near some blooming lantana – a Blue-gray Gnatcatcher. I haven’t seen or heard them very often lately, so it was nice to see this one. It hopped and pecked around for a couple of minutes as I watched – then flew to a nearby tree. Later in the day, at least two Blue-gray Gnatcatchers called their whispery spee-spee calls from trees all around the back yard.

Late this morning, as I walked along a shady road with woods and wooded yards on both sides, a large hawk suddenly swept past me very low, and so close that I felt and heard the sound of its wings in the air before I saw it – though it all happened fast. It passed by me almost at eye level, flew on across the road, and swept up onto a low branch of a tree on the edge of a yard. I thought it was a Red-shouldered Hawk, because I hear and see them fairly often in this area.

It sat with its back to me, turning its head one way and another, and it took me longer than it should have to realize that it was not a Red-shouldered – but a Broad-winged Hawk. A solid, stocky bird, its back was brown and the tail looked black, with one wide white band in the middle, and a narrow rim of white along the tip. The tail switched back and forth, from side to side, as if to call attention to itself – the obvious wide white band making it clear that this was a Broad-winged Hawk. After a couple of minutes like this, it turned around on the branch, facing toward me, showing a reddish breast, then abruptly flew down to the ground, catching and eating something small, taking several bites.

Broad-winged Hawks hunt from a perch like this, swooping down on their prey – large insects, frogs, toads, small mammals, sometimes small birds. I couldn’t see what this one caught – it might have been a frog, chipmunk or lizard, but because it seemed to consume it in just a few bites, I think probably it was a large insect like a beetle or grasshopper, or maybe a cicada. After only a minute or two, it then flew back across the road to another low branch in a tree, where it sat with its back to me again, and again the tail switched back and forth from side to side as it sat and looked around.

Two summers ago, Broad-winged Hawks nested successfully in this same area, but last summer, though I watched for them, I never heard their calls or saw one. And until this encounter today, I had not heard or seen one this year. Broad-winged Hawks are known for being very secretive in their nesting habitat, so maybe it’s not surprising I could have missed them, though I am surprised I haven’t heard their distinctive high, whistled calls – very different from the cries of either a Red-tailed or a Red-shouldered Hawk. The whistle of a Broad-winged Hawk sounds more like a small bird, and can pretty easily escape notice. It’s yet another good reminder for me of how easy it is to overlook something if I’m not paying full attention to what’s around me, especially if I’m not consciously watching or listening for it.

I don’t know for sure that this one is nesting here – but it seems likely. And now I’ll be watching and listening more closely. It’s very good news to see one again this year.

This afternoon a Hackberry Butterfly – much prettier than its name might suggest – stayed for an hour or more around the back deck, mostly sitting with folded wings on the white plastic surface of a deck chair. The underside of its wings was pearl gray, with seven dark spots with circles around them, like eyes – dark blue in the center, then a ring of yellow, then a wide black spot, and a yellow ring around this, and finally a thin black ring.

Now and then, the butterfly opened its wings, showing the upper surface. Against a background of orange and brown, it was velvety black near the upper wing tips, with four white spots of varying size and shape near the tip, then seven saffron-yellow spots on the hind wing, and behind that, it was orange with big black spots – these were the spots that looked like eyes on the underside of the wings. The antennae were thin, with marked segments, like a delicate strand of tiny dots, and yellow bulbous tips. The body was furry orange-brown, the wing edges barely scalloped, with a very thin trim of white on the edge.

It was a placid butterfly, not easily scared into flight, and most of the time it sat with wings folded up, probing the white plastic of the chair with a long, thread-like proboscis. When it did fly up, it flew to the sunny brick wall above, stayed there only briefly, then came back to the chair – though I can’t imagine what might have been the attraction there, except that it was in the shade and a little bit dirty and dusty. Nearby on the deck were the bright yellow blooms of lantana and the red blooms of geraniums – but they seemed of no interest at all to the Hackberry Butterfly.

The larvae of Hackberry Butterflies (Asterocampa celtis) feed on the leaves of hackberry trees, usually in colonies. Adults feed on rotting fruit, dung and sap flows, and may also get some nutrients from road surfaces and wet spots. They are said often to have favorite perches to which they repeatedly return.

I’m not at all sure I’m using the correct terms for butterfly parts and markings, and I’m certainly not knowledgeable about butterflies – but I enjoyed watching this one closely and trying to note as much about it as I could, then later looking it up and learning more.

On a sunny, breezy afternoon, a Great Crested Flycatcher greeted the first day of June by coming to the deck for a sunbath. Last summer a pair of Great Crested Flycatchers came regularly to soak up the sun, almost every day around the middle of the day, on the warm wood of the deck. I don’t know if this is one of the same pair, but hope we might see them often again this year.

Great Crested Flycatchers are often in the trees around our house and yard, we hear their calls and see them often – and in a couple of other areas of the neighborhood, too. A Great Crested Flycatcher was one of the first birds I saw when we moved here twelve years ago, and they have continued to be one of our most characteristic and familiar summer birds, as well as one of the most impressive and interesting. Its frequent rolling calls of Breet or Whreep come often from the treetops, more frequently heard than seen. But when seen – it’s a large, very handsome, active and colorful bird, with yellow belly, big gray head, and long cinnamon-colored tail, and cinnamon in the wings.

With its love of large deciduous trees, open woodlands, creeks and park-like areas, and a tolerance for fragmented forest, woodland edges and suburban habitat, a Great Crested Flycatcher may be the emblematic bird of this place.

Later in the morning, I spent a couple of hours outside planting flowers – yellow lantana around the mailbox and some yellow and pink lantana in another sunny spot beside the driveway. It felt great to be working outside, the sun warm, the soil easy to work after an overnight rain and full of earthworms. As I planted, Chimney Swifts twittered overhead. A Red-shouldered Hawk cried kee-yer high up in a blue and white sky. A Chipping Sparrow trilled from its favorite small stand of pines; a Pine Warbler and Red-eyed Vireo sang from the edge of the woods; a Louisiana Waterthrush from around the creek; and a Summer Tanager from somewhere way down the street. From a shrubby area with tall pines around the edge of the yard, a Blue-gray Gnatcatcher called spee, and from deeper in the woods, came the crisp, cool chick-brrr calls of a Scarlet Tanager.

Meanwhile, on the back deck, among pots of geraniums, ferns and a hydrangea in bloom, a pair of Ruby-throated Hummingbirds made frequent visits to the feeder. A Mourning Dove cooed. A Red-bellied Woodpecker rattled, and another called quurrr. American Goldfinch, Carolina Chickadees and Tufted Titmice all came to the birdbaths for water, and a Carolina Wren took a long, leisurely bath and then sat on a shepherd’s crook that holds a hanging fern to preen for a good long time, combing its bill vigorously through its breast feathers, under the wings, on the wings – then going back for another fluttering dip and another, repeating the process.

This morning – warm and sunny again – a Great Blue Heron flew majestically over the old field, heading west. We don’t see them often, just one now and then, passing by. An Indigo Bunting chanted its sweet-sweet, chew-chew, sweet-sweet song from near the top of a pine on the edge of the power cut in the field; a White-eyed Vireo sang chick-a-periooo-chick from the deep in the shadows of a thicket of privet and vines. The prickly purple heads of thistles dotted the field, and small orange and yellow butterflies fluttered through tall tan grass, scattered yellow asters and lots of dusty-white Queen Anne’s lace. A boldly colored black, red-orange and white Eastern Towhee, with a gleaming ruby-red eye, sat in the edge of a large bush and sang Drink-TEE.

A Blue Grosbeak sang in the middle part of the field, around the power cut at first, then it flew from treetop to treetop as I walked along. Its back was usually toward me, and it looked rather brown, so I think it was a sub-adult, and not the full deep-blue one I saw as part of a pair – I haven’t yet seen them again. But this one was singing and singing and I could see its big silver beak when it turned its head from the top of a chinaberry or a pine or a wild cherry tree.

As I walked back home through the neighborhood, an Eastern Bluebird female flew out of the newspaper box beside the road where they’re trying to nest again – almost every time I walk past, even if I try to walk way over on the other side and not disturb her, she flies out. Bluebirds seem to be everywhere, lots of them, flashing their bright colors and singing their blurry songs. Cardinals, Chipping Sparrows, House Finches, Mockingbirds and Brown Thrashers also sang, here and one or two effervescent House Wrens. A Downy Woodpecker whinnied, and two Eastern Phoebes hunted from low branches.

As May begins to drift toward an end with warm, sunny days of blue skies and white clouds – and a couple of days of good rain – the first few cicadas have begun to sing, and fireflies flash over the grass and among the dark shrubs at twilight. Two Yellow-throated Vireos continue to sing; one in the woods around our house and yard, the other in another wooded part of the neighborhood, about a half a mile away. This morning I stopped to listen to a Yellow-throated Vireo somewhere in the tops of several tall sweet gum trees. It sang and sang its burry, ringing, full-throated song, with frequent three-eight phrases, but stayed hidden among the leaves. Though I never could see it, and could only imagine the bright yellow throat and breast, white wingbars, olive-green head and face, and yellow spectacles, the song itself was just as richly colorful and expressed.

Later in the afternoon, with a clearing sky after a sudden, brief rain shower, two juvenile Red-bellied Woodpeckers made wheezy calls, fluttered their wings and were fed by both parents in pines on the edge of the yard.

A Great Crested Flycatcher flew into this same area of pines, lit by the low sun, and sat on an open branch facing our way, with the sun lighting its lemon-yellow belly and long, cinnamon tail, and big, handsome gray head. Thunder still rumbled in the east, remnants of the rain that had passed through, and there were dark blue clouds all around on the horizon, but also brilliant sunlight coming through the clouds in the west and pouring through the leaves of the oaks, so the shifting light and shadows all around looked softly dramatic, like a watercolor painting in motion.

One afternoon in late April, we found this Gray Tree Frog in a folded deck chair. We moved it into the shelter of a large hydrangea plant in a pot, in a corner close to the white oaks that shade the deck. I’d been hearing the song of the frog for several days but had not thought to look for it.

The habitat of a Gray Tree Frog is said to be woods, swamps and back yards with trees. Its color is subject to variation, and can change from gray to green. This one was a very pretty, clear gray, with paler gray around its cheek, bordered in black. The light spot under the eye is characteristic. The song is a musical, chirping trill, and for at least a couple of weeks, into the first half of May, we continued to hear it sing now and then – especially in the evenings or when it was cloudy or had rained. I don’t think we’ve heard it singing nearby in the past week or two, though Gray Tree Frogs may sing through much of the summer, and hope it just moved away, maybe into the nearby oaks.

In a warm, sunny hour on the deck this afternoon, it felt good to be lazy for a while, leaning back and watching white clouds drift across a big blue sky, while a surprising number of birds and other animals were active all around the yard – not lazy at all.

A male and a female Ruby-throated Hummingbird came frequently to the feeder that hangs from the deck rail, thrumming and twittering. A Red-shouldered Hawk cried kee-yer, soaring in the southeast. Chimney swifts chittered overhead. A Mourning Dove cooed from the woods. Summer Tanagers called a rapid pik-a-tuk, and sometimes an even quicker, long tik-a-tik-a-tit-tit-it-it-it-it, descending, like a finger running over a comb. A Red-bellied Woodpecker called quuurrrr, a Great Crested Flycatcher, breet. A Pine Warbler sang around the edges of the back yard. A Chipping Sparrow trilled out front. Carolina Chickadees chattered, a Tufted Titmouse sang its peter-peter song, a Carolina Wren and a Cardinal sang.

A Tiger Swallowtail lingered in the butterfly bush beside the deck, a Red-spotted Purple fluttered over the red blooms of a hanging geranium plant, and a smaller, dark Common Sooty Wing butterfly came to visit the yellow and pink blooms of six lantana plants I’d bought just this morning, still in their black plastic pots. Similar to the Scalloped Sooty Wing, a small, dark butterfly with a stocky body, black and dark copper-colored, but with more white spots, a cluster of white spots toward the outer wing, and its wings not scalloped, though the edges appeared to be lightly ruffled and fringed.

Our resident Green Anole patrolled the deck as usual, lithe, and bright clear green in the sun, running along the rail, pausing to puff out its pink throat, and making its way toward a fern that hangs from a shepherd’s crook, where it likes to sit – stretched out and draped over the top of the crook. The anole is almost always somewhere around the deck, often the less showy female, too. She looks a little smaller, but maybe that’s only because she’s more reclusive, more likely to stay in the shadows, and she usually appears a muted greenish-brown, not so bright green.

This afternoon, a Fence Lizard and a Broadhead Skink also were nearby – both on the warm, sunny brick side of the house. The gray and scaly Fence Lizard was climbing up the corner of the house. When it paused and lifted its head to look around, a deep-blue throat flashed in the sunlight. The Broadhead Skink is a much stranger-looking creature, I think, but maybe that’s only because I’ve seen it much less often. This one was large, thick-bodied and shiny-brown all over, with a very big, broad, neon-orange head. The back of the head was especially wide, looking swollen and orange. It slithered straight up the brick wall and disappeared over the ledge of my office windows, but on the way, stopped long enough for a good look. We often see the dark-striped, blue-tailed juvenile skinks on the deck, scurrying to hide under a folded chair or potted plant, but seldom see an adult. This one was impressive. The orange or red color in the head will fade when breeding season is over.

The pik-a-tuk calls of Summer Tanagers came closer, and a red male flew into a pine on the edge of the yard and perched in view for three or four minutes. Sometimes the plumage of male Summer Tanagers looks a little ragged or uneven to me, but this one seemed uncommonly handsome and fresh rose-red. The female flew into the same tree, but stayed screened by pine needles and all I could see was a shadowy yellow shape.

Several hours later, when we were back out on the deck at the end of the day, the chick-brrr calls of a Scarlet Tanager moved through the woods nearby. I haven’t heard the song of a Scarlet Tanager for quite a while and was afraid a conflict with the Summer Tanagers might have made the Scarlet leave. So it’s nice to know it’s still around.

And for the first time this evening – though they may have been out before now – I noticed fireflies in the yard, low over the grass and shrubs at twilight.

By late morning when I went out to walk, the day was warm, sunny, and windy but still very pleasant, with lots of big white cumulous clouds. Birds were few and rather quiet. Chimney Swifts twittered overhead. A tiny, deep-blue Indigo Bunting sang from the top of a small ragged tree in the old field, maybe a wild plum tree – but no Blue Grosbeak today, and no White-eyed Vireo singing. A Great Crested Flycatcher called Breet in the woods, one Summer Tanager sang from a small patch of trees and shrubs – the only tanager heard all morning, and no vireos at all. One Louisiana Waterthrush sang from near a creek, and a Brown Thrasher from the top of the big, dead, red-brown Leyland cypress at the end of our road. Northern Mockingbirds and two or three American Robins sang. Three Eastern Phoebes, an abundance of Eastern Bluebirds, Northern Cardinals, Northern Mockingbirds, House Finches, Tufted Titmice, Carolina Chickadees, Red-bellied Woodpeckers, Downy Woodpeckers and Chipping Sparrows were active – and lots of baby birds begged in wheezy voices. Mourning Doves cooed. Blue Jays and American Crows here and there.

Near the top of a shady hill, with woods on both sides of the road, a Red-shouldered Hawk flew low across the road several yards ahead of me, wings wide outspread and tail flared, and swept up into a low branch where it sat facing toward me – deeply shaded by green leaves but in full, clear view. If I had not seen it fly, I would have walked right past and never seen it, it blends so well with the shadows of the trees.

As it flew across the road, so close, the brown, black and white patterns of its back and wings, the black and white bands of the tail, and even the warm red across the shoulders all looked bright, leaving a vivid, colorful image. Sitting silent on the branch, its head was turned in profile, showing the large, hooked bill, dark on the tip. Its breast was broad and barred with ruddy-red, and its white-checkered, dark-brown wings also showed. Only the tail was obscured by some leaves.

I watched for several quiet minutes as it perched, seeming to move only its head, looking one way and another, and it didn’t even fly when I finally walked on, angling away toward the other side of the road, hoping not to disturb it. But then when I came even with where it perched, I couldn’t resist stopping for one more look with binoculars – and as soon as I stopped it flew, dropping low on outstretched wings again and gliding further back into the woods and out of sight. Ah well – I should not have stopped.