Birding Notes

The rest of a morning walk through the neighborhood was pretty quiet – though it might also have been that my mind was preoccupied with other things and not open enough to see or hear what was happening around me. I usually try to clear away as many thoughts as possible, and just to listen and watch, but sometimes I can’t get something off my mind and when that happens I miss a lot, and something pretty dramatic has to come along to get my attention.

This time it was the trumpeted call of a Pileated Woodpecker nearby in the woods. The first loud call was followed by a string of more agitated calls from two Pileated Woodpeckers, something like coy-coy-coy-coy, repeated by both and overlapping each other. I couldn’t see more than a partial glimpse of the two near the top of a dead pine, with several leafy trees in the way, but saw a flapping of wings and heard more calls, and then they flew again, further back into the woods.

After an all-day rain on Saturday, yesterday dawned clear and sunny, with blue sky and high, thin white clouds, a beautiful day to be outside – and the birds seemed to agree. Several Chimney Swifts swept high overhead. An American Goldfinch flew over. The pair of Eastern Bluebirds in our front yard was busy making trips to the nest box, and in a tree at the end of the driveway, a rose-red male Summer Tanager moved through the branches. A Ruby-throated Hummingbird paused in flight to hover around my head and check me out, like a Disney cartoon bird, then zipped on toward the back-yard feeder.

One of the nicest surprises of the day was a Yellow-billed Cuckoo on a fairly low and close branch of a large dogwood in a thick stand of trees on the edge of a thicket. Not what I expected to find there – a tall, slender, sleek bird with smooth grayish-brown back and head, and pure white throat and breast, bright reddish-bronze edges on the wings, and a dramatic long tail with white spots on black, the Cuckoo turned its head toward me. The spindly, grasshopper-like legs of a large insect, maybe a katydid, were disappearing into the yellow, down-curved bill. After a couple of minutes, the Cuckoo finished its meal and unhurriedly hopped further into the leaves and out of sight.

In the same group of trees, a much smaller and more animated bird flitted around in the foliage, gleaning insects from the leaves – another Northern Parula. Small and round with a short tail, greenish back, bluish head and bright white wing bars, a yellow throat and very white belly, and white under the tail – I think it was a first-year female, because it showed no sign of a coral band across the breast.

Chickadees, Titmice, Carolina Wrens, Downy and Red-bellied Woodpeckers, Cardinals, Chipping Sparrows, lots of Bluebirds and several Phoebes, Robins, House Finches and Goldfinches, and the spee-spee of a Blue-gray Gnatcatcher here and there – all the usual suspects seemed to be out and about in the pleasant sunshine and light breezes of early morning.

Another surprise of the day was a Pine Warbler singing in the dense, dark stand of tall pines and other trees toward one end of the field – which is flush and rampant with grasses, vines and weeds of every description taking full advantage of all the recent rain and sun – along with White-eyed Vireos, Eastern Towhees and the mewing calls of a Gray Catbird – at least, I think it was a Catbird, and not a White-eyed Vireo. I wasn’t able to see it, but it mewed several times.

Toward the other end of the field, a young Red-tailed Hawk circled very low, gaining altitude, and I stopped to watch as it flew slowly over and above me, wide pale wings outspread, feathers subtly shifting, tail turning slightly, making it look at the same time so easy and so intricate, silent music in the air, and finally sailed off toward the east.

On my way back toward home, around 10:30 in the morning, two Mississippi Kites came flying over, low enough to see the brownish juvenile patterns and bars, and pale round heads, as well as the clean, sharp outlines of the wings and tail. They stayed around for several minutes, sweeping low over the treetops, disappearing out of sight, then climbing and circling, sometimes soaring very high, one tucked its wings and plummeted down, and sailed back up. They put on quite a show of acrobatic flight.

Later still in the morning, the Eastern Bluebird pair were making frequent trips to the nest box. They each came and went quickly, not staying long inside, and in between visits perched in nearby branches with bill parted – looking the part of harried parents with demanding kids.

Meanwhile, a young bluebird – heavily streaked, but with blue in the wings and some blue in the tail – came to a low branch of a water oak in the yard, and from there I watched as it flew to the top of the nest box and sat there, staying as one of the parents flew in and came back out – and then I was amazed to see the juvenile bluebird fly into the nest box itself. It stayed inside while the parents made two or three more trips in and out.

A few minutes later, it was out again, perching in nearby branches, then it flew again to the top of the nest box – and back into the box again.

At first I wondered if this was one of the young birds fledging – but it did not look like a newly-fledged bird. So I think this was a young bluebird from earlier in the season that was helping to care for the nestlings in this later brood. Eastern Bluebirds here often raise two or three broods in a season – and this one seems especially late to me. In doing a little research, I found several mentions of juvenile bluebirds like this one, staying with parents later in the season and helping to feed later broods.

This seems even more likely today – because the parents are still going in and out of the nest box, so the young have not yet fledged. Unfortunately, I haven’t had time to watch for the juvenile helper today and learn more about it.

Too nice a day to stay inside, so early in the afternoon yesterday, I went out to sit on the deck for a while and was watching Ruby-throated Hummingbirds chase each other around the feeder when a small feeding flock of mostly Chickadees and Titmice came around, with a Blue-gray Gnatcatcher, a couple of Carolina Wrens, and Downy and Red-bellied Woodpeckers. One Brown Thrasher and one Chipping Sparrow sat quietly screened in the leaves. A Cardinal peeped.

I heard the pik-a-tuk calls of Summer Tanagers – and then the sharp chik-brrr call of a Scarlet Tanager. There was a flurry of activity in the branches of some pines at the edge of the woods. After a couple of minutes, I realized that there were two Scarlet Tanager juveniles fluttering their wings and begging, and being fed by an adult.

The juveniles both looked dusky and streaked on the upper breast, and showed some yellow in the wings and under the tail. The adult was a female, yellow-green with darker, shadowy wings. The juveniles both stayed mostly low and huddled on a thick and sturdy branch of the pine, widely separated, well camouflaged against the lichen and bark, and partially screened by green needles. When the adult came in with food, they fluttered their wings and begged, and the adult seemed to alternate, feeding one and then the other, though I’m not sure it was exactly even. This went on for at least 15 minutes, maybe more, with the female feeding the juveniles several times. I did not see a male adult. When they finally flew – both juveniles following the parent – the young ones made little muted squeaking sounds.

When I stepped outside this morning, the first thing I heard was the buzzy song of a Northern Parula. It was singing from the branches of some oaks across the street, fluttering among the leaves as it searched for insects – a tiny bird with bluish head, greenish back and deep-yellow throat. It might have been a Parula that nested here this season, or a migrant moving through. Either way, it’s a song not heard lately on these long, hot summer days, so it sounded like a change in the air.

Further down the road and up a hill, in the area where the Broad-winged Hawks can usually be found – a green, deeply-wooded spot of mixed pines, oaks, sweet gums, tulip poplars and other hardwoods – a feeding flock of small birds included a vivid orange and black American Redstart, another Northern Parula, a sleek, elegant Red-eyed Vireo – and I think maybe an Eastern Wood-pewee. A sweet whee-oo sounded like the autumn, partial call of a pewee, but I only heard it once, so can’t be sure. Chickadees, Titmice, a Downy Woodpecker and a Blue-gray Gnatcatcher also were part of the flock.

A Broad-winged Hawk whistled its high call several times from somewhere nearby in the trees, but stayed frustratingly out of sight and I never could see it until it flew after several minutes – a glimpse of broad brown wings outspread as it dropped from a treetop and threaded low through the trunks, fading into the shadows of the deeper woods.

The morning was cloudy and gray, but very warm and humid, sultry, muggy, steamy weather.

In the old field along the highway, one Red-tailed Hawk perched on a utility pole, and there seemed to be a good bit of activity in the field, but it was hard to catch sight of birds as they flew from one tangled mess of weeds into another. White-eyed Vireo and Eastern Towhee sang. And the two bright yellow female Orchard Orioles surprised me again by still being here – and being out and active as usual. One flew across the road in front of me, calling a raspy chuff-chuff-chuff as it flew, and continuing to call as it moved from place to place among the bushes.

Several American Robins were scattered out in grassy yards, more and more of them it seems, each day. And Eastern Bluebirds are very active. I’m not sure how the pair are doing in our bluebird box. We’ve had some work being done on the corner of our house that required a crew doing a lot of digging, but I’m hoping it was far enough away not to keep the Bluebirds from their nest.

Yesterday morning on the front porch in the shade, the day felt more gentle than the past week or more. Still hot and sunny, with blue sky and white clouds, but a lazier, more peaceful and pleasant feeling in the air. Cicadas sang, Mourning Doves cooed, Carolina Wrens trilled and fussed, and Chickadees and Titmice chattered as they came and went. American Goldfinches flew over again and again, calling their potato-chip call, and sometimes perched in the treetops and mewed or sang. Goldfinches seem to be almost everywhere right now, all through the neighborhood, brilliant little golden flashes of color.

Earlier in the morning, when we were cleaning up the area around the garden, I found a big yellow and black writing spider on the mesh of a soil-sifting box – the first one I’ve seen in quite a while. Officially Argiope aurantia, it’s a large, dramatically-colored spider with long black legs extended in the shape of a cross. It weaves an orb web, and across its center spins a thick zig-zag pattern that looks like writing. It’s a familiar spider commonly found in gardens, and sometimes we’ve had one spin a web across a window where it’s fascinating to watch for several days.

Lots of bumblebees and butterflies hovered in and out of the Rose of Sharon blooms on plants that have grown lush and tall against the warm brick on the east side of the house. These are some of my favorite flowers of summer, deep pink and pale pink, with accents of red, with a sensuous, languid, abundant beauty. A Hairy Woodpecker called peenk! emphatically from the woods, and I could hear its industrious tapping on a trunk.

A pair of Eastern Bluebirds are now making frequent trips in and out of the bluebird box in the front yard. Carolina Chickadees occupied the box earlier in the season, while Bluebirds nested instead in our neighbor’s bluebird house. I thought nesting was pretty much over for this year, but these two are apparently feeding young. The female makes most of the trips in and out, while the male perches in a nearby tree. But I think now and then he goes in with food, too.

They often sit close together, bills parted, panting, in the branches of river birches on the far side of the yard from the nest box. From there the female drops down to the grass to hunt, then swoops low across the yard and up and into the opening of the box.

As I sat on the porch, being completely lazy, watching Bluebirds, Brown Thrashers, and Carolina wrens, a female or juvenile Ruby-throated Hummingbird zhroomed up – with that low, thrumming hum that always brings an involuntary shudder to the back of my neck when one comes close – and visited the blooms of the lantana and other flowering plants in the planters. It checked out the coral flowers of the New Guinea impatiens but seemed uninterested in them, hummed over my head and around my shoulders, hovered in front of my face for a few seconds, then to the planters on the other side of me – and then zipped away.

Meanwhile a juvenile Eastern Phoebe with a mottled gray breast had flown into the branches of the Savannah holly beside me and begun hunting from low branches there, silently. Its manner was shy and a little tentative, but it seemed to be growing in confidence – though I’m probably reading more into its behavior than I should. It also came very close, and seemed undisturbed by my presence, staying right around me to hunt for several minutes, bobbing its tail as it sat on a branch, flying off to catch an insect, and returning to a slightly different spot.

Two Blue-gray Gnatcatchers chased each other through the pecan trees and down into the wax myrtles, calling spee-spee. Two Chipping Sparrows sat among the shimmering leaves of a river birch, a juvenile begging from an adult. All the small birds are hard to see and follow in the dense foliage when they’re moving around. But one of the Gnatcatchers came out into the leaves on the end of a water oak branch right over my head – very pretty, crisp, silvery-gray, with black down the middle of the upturned tail framed by white on the edges. The tree is loaded with small acorns – and there are lots of pecans, too. All the heat and rain seem to be making for an abundant year of all kinds of fruit and nuts.

Three juvenile Brown Thrashers seemed playful under the wax myrtles and lauropetelum. They chased each other in and out of the branches, tails often raised, and then turned away abruptly to spend time alone, tossing up flecks of mulch and eating. A Robin ran across the grass – running and stopping and looking around, bob-bob-bobbin, and joined another Robin, two Brown Thrashers and a feisty juvenile Carolina Wren, all foraging in the mulch around one of the pecan trees. Seemed to be a popular place. Two Mourning Doves flew in with a whistle of wings and joined the others hunting and pecking in the mulch.

One of the young Brown Thrashers hopped up onto the rim of a bird bath, looked around a few seconds, and then hopped into the water and took a good splashing bath, dipping down into the water several times, fluttering, sending water furiously flying. Lots of gray feathers showed in its face and sides and rump, and its head still looked kind of fluffy and gray, with that slightly stunned and uncertain look of a young bird – not quite knowing what to expect next, maybe.

I don’t think the Thrasher was really finished with its bath when an imperious looking Robin flew up to the rim of the bird bath and sat there staring down at it like a bossy adult – only my imagination, I’m sure. But the young Thrasher paused uncertainly in its bathing, then reluctantly hopped up to the rim and flew away. The Robin continued just to sit and look around, and never even took a drink before it flew away, too.

Although still hot and humid this morning, the sky looked a softer, hazier blue, with distant dreamy cumulous clouds, and something in the air felt softer, too, the heat just a little less fierce.

Traffic along Highway 441, on the other side of the old field – out of sight but not out of hearing – has become busier and louder every day this week, though. With the university and public schools about to start again, the summer is coming to a premature end.

The field itself looks, at the same time, lush and green and bedraggled and worn, with old weeds fading and new ones growing up. Lots of birds dart in and out of vine-covered trees and shrubs, but it’s hard to hear many songs or calls over the noise of the traffic. Eastern Towhee and White-eyed Vireo sing, Northern Cardinals peep and Brown Thrashers call harshly. Lots of young Mockingbirds chase each other around. Mourning Doves sit on the wires. I haven’t seen a Red-tailed Hawk the past few mornings – for the first time in several weeks, I think. But a dozen Chimney Swifts swept high overhead.

This morning a colorful tumble of morning glories spilled up and out over the tough, tall grasses that grow thick and as tall as corn in the ditch along the side of the road – blooms of delicate purple, fuschia, blue and white, and among them even a few tiny miniature red morning glories, tubular in shape and bright red-orange in color.

A juvenile Mockingbird, still a little mottled in plumage, perched on the wire over the field, with a smudge of grape color on its breast, maybe from feeding on some kind of berries.