Birding Notes

This morning began with the song of a Robin – a sure sign of spring and a good wake-up call in more ways than one.

Wake up, wake up you sleepy head,
Get up, get up, get out of bed,
Cheer up, cheer up, the sun is red . . .

Not only was it a good message for me – because I’ve been really lazy the past few days – but the verse from the old, well-known song also sounds a lot like the phrases of the Robin’s song itself, usually described as something like cheer-up, cheer-up, cheerily cheer-up cheerio. I lay in bed listening to it this morning for a while, and listened again off and on all day as different Robins sang, each one with a slightly different variation on the general theme. A Robin’s song is one of the most familiar, and yet, as Donald Kroodsma eloquently describes in The Singing Life of Birds, when you really listen to it closely, it’s a song of fascinating complexity and many unexplored strains. “So familiar is this robin, yet we hardly know him,” Kroodsma says. “Robins have much they can teach us.”

“Learn to recognize the robin’s song,” he continues, “and you’ve got the standard for the songs of other birds, too. . . . Sitting in a lawn chair and listening to robins for a few hours prepares one for sparrows and starlings and wrens and flycatchers and warblers and thrushes and jays and goldfinches and blackbirds – indeed, almost anything that other birds may have to offer. Begin by listening to the robin, and realize then how easily one hears how all the others sing.”

A large flock of Red-winged Blackbirds continues to hang out in our neighborhood. Often they fill the trees around our back yard, and their creaky conkaree songs fill the air with exotic wetland music.

This morning, around the middle of the morning, I saw several Blackbirds perched in the branches of one of the oaks in our back yard. I could hear Red-winged Blackbirds all around, so that’s what I was expecting to see, but when I looked through my binoculars a bright, pale-yellow eye looked back at me – a male Rusty Blackbird. Several other Rusty Blackbirds were perched here and there in the branches, too, black and brown splotches among the faded red-brown leaves that still cling to the lower branches of the oaks. There were four females and three males, all preening, plus a couple of Brown-headed Cowbirds.

Later in the afternoon, I watched two Rusty Blackbird males in the front yard, searching among dry leaves on the ground along with several Robins, and then flying up to sit on low, bare branches of the trees. I think this is the closest I’ve ever gotten to them, and had a beautiful view of them both, in low, slanting sunlight that lit up the highlights of their plumage. The rusty coloring looked exactly like rust – as if it lay under the glossy black feathers and was showing through. Both birds made quiet but rich and appealing calls, something like prrrt and churf.

Late this morning – a cool, dark, cloudy day – a Brown Thrasher sang from the top of a bare tree along one of the roads through our neighborhood. It was the first Brown Thrasher I’ve heard singing this season. A series of paired phrases that includes the mimicked voices of many other birds, its song is always one of our earliest harbingers of spring. Unlike a Mockingbird, a Brown Thrasher almost always repeats each phrase twice, then moves to another, so that the rhythm of its singing is more deliberate and less fluid and artistic – though its repertoire may be much larger. Brown Thrashers are known to have one of the largest repertoires of all North American birds, including more than 1,000 different song types.

During the fall and winter, Brown Thrashers – which are residents here year-round – seem so shy they’re often comical. A fairly good-size bird with handsome brown coloring, a long tail and a long, curved bill, it looks as if it should be bold – but instead, it lurks beneath the bushes, ventures out only cautiously, and flees back into hiding at the least hint of danger. But when it sings, it seems to throw caution to the winds, perching in the highest top of a tree.

Although the species accounts I’ve found say that Brown Thrashers sing for only a short period of time in the spring while they’re mating and establishing territories, they usually start to sing here in mid February and more than a few may still be singing well into June.

After several days in the snowy mountains of the West, we’ve returned to balmy, spring-like weather here – and to the musical trill of a Pine Warbler’s song, brightening up the gray winter woods with color. Daffodils are blooming, and along with the Pine Warbler, Cardinals, House Finches, Carolina Wrens and Phoebes are singing, and even the birds that aren’t singing seem to be more vocal. So the quiet of winter, marked with the individual voices of winter birds, already is giving way to the more complex, varied sounds of earliest spring.

Carolina Chickadees, Tufted Titmice, Eastern Towhees, Dark-eyed Juncos, White-throated Sparrows, Chipping Sparrows, Brown-headed Nuthatches, Red-breasted Nuthatches, and lots of Goldfinches and Yellow-rumped Warblers all are active around the yard. This morning, a Brown Thrasher sat preening in the wax myrtles, a Robin hunted in the grass, and two Yellow-bellied Sapsuckers tapped steadily on the trunks of pecan trees. A pair of Downy Woodpeckers also worked in the trees around the house, and a Red-bellied Woodpecker called from nearby. Two dozen Cedar Waxwings settled in the bare branches of an oak.

A large flock of Red-winged Blackbirds was spread out noisily up and down the road late this afternoon, mostly in the treetops. There were at least a few Common Grackles among them, and may have been other Blackbirds, but most of those I could see or hear were Red-wings – and their songs, too, sound like spring on the way.

But the real highlight of the day has been the Pine Warbler and its song. I watched one for a few minutes this morning, its deep yellow throat and breast glowing as it crept over a gray, lichen-covered branch. Then it paused and lifted up its head to sing – and its whole body vibrated with the trill.

January leaves us on a characteristic note – cold, gray, and bleak, with rain expected tonight. All day, a strong wind has rattled the dry brown leaves that still cling to the white oaks, swept through the hollies and wax myrtles, tossed the pines, ruffled the feathers of birds, and made the bare limbs of the hardwoods creak and moan. Early this morning was cold enough so that water in the bird baths was frozen solid again, though by midday most of it had melted, and the clouds broke for an hour or two, leaving a pale blue sky veiled in white and gray.

This was the most pleasant part of the day, still cold and windy, but graced with a pearl-gray light, with hints of color and iridescence. As I walked through the neighborhood around noon, small flocks of Yellow-rumped Warblers, mixed with Chipping Sparrows and Bluebirds fed along the roadside and out in the middle of the road. I heard the songs of a Pine Warbler and a House Finch, the call of a Northern Flicker, and saw one Phoebe in a tree and one Black Vulture soaring.

As I passed below a large old oak, I heard the calls of Cedar Waxwings, but it took me a while to find them. The branches of the tree looked bare and empty. The Cedar Waxwings were scattered around in several large clumps of Mistletoe, almost hidden among its leaves, feeding on the berries.

On my way back home, I could hear a large flock of Blackbirds from some distance away. They were spread out over a wide area in the top branches of bare trees, and there may have been as many as three hundred or more. Among them were many Red-winged Blackbirds, as well as Common Grackles and Rusty Blackbirds, all together much noisier than our usual flock of Rusty Blackbirds are alone.

A Mockingbird continues to try to keep all other birds away from the two feeders in the front yard. Several times a day, though, it goes somewhere else for a while, and when it does, Titmice, Chickadees, Nuthatches and Downy Woodpeckers all return, darting back and forth from feeder to branches, taking advantage of their own version of Happy Hour.

During one of these intervals, I watched as a Carolina Wren cautiously made its way across the yard to the pecan tree where a Downy Woodpecker was chipping away at one of the feeders. The Wren bounced up and down nervously as it went, as if its legs were on springs, and frequently stopped to look around, this way and that. It clung to the bark of the trunk for a while, worked its way up to a branch, and finally flew to the feeder and started to peck at the seeds.

It hadn’t been there more than 30 seconds before the Mockingbird returned, and flew like a fury toward the feeder, white wings flashing. Both Downy Woodpecker and Carolina Wren scattered – and the Mockingbird homed in on the Wren and chased it so closely it seemed actually to nip at its tail. The Wren squeaked in a high-pitched twitter as it flew, close to the ground, sounding like a frightened mouse being chased by a cat, and the two birds disappeared around the corner of the house.

The Mockingbird returned and took up its post on the feeder. In three or four minutes, the Carolina Wren also returned, this time keeping to the ground around some thick holly bushes at first. Gradually it got braver, and ventured out further and began to check out the ground around the roots of a water oak, then it hopped onto the lowest part of the trunk, creeping over it and poking into crevices in the bark. Suddenly, the Mockingbird came down fiercely on the Wren, as if with a vengeance, and chased it away again – even though it hadn’t come anywhere near one of the feeders.

This is the first time I’ve seen the Mockingbird pay any attention to a bird that wasn’t on the feeders. It completely ignores the White-throated Sparrows, Juncos, Cardinals and Mourning Doves that often feed beneath them, and the Titmice, Chickadees and Yellow-rumped Warblers that hang around nearby in the branches. But for some reason, the Mockingbird – at least on this day – wouldn’t tolerate this one little Carolina Wren anywhere in the area – which is interesting, in part, because the Wren is usually so bold and pugnacious itself. Of course, a Mockingbird’s a great deal bigger than a Carolina Wren. This Wren was very watchful and cautious – but persistent. Maybe even stubborn. Not exactly standing his ground, but not giving up either.

Our flock of about 200 Rusty Blackbirds is still in the neighborhood. This morning – a peaceful, cold, clear day – they were spread out across some grassy yards, under bare-limbed pecan trees, and I was able to get closer to them than usual and spent several minutes watching them. They all seemed to be Rusties. I saw no Grackles, Red-winged Blackbirds or others. They were relatively quiet, just making smacking calls to each other as they hunted busily in the grass.

Although at first glance they just look like “blackbirds,” a closer look shows a lot of variation in coloring, and many individual birds are distinctive – which makes them fun to watch. The glossy black males have startlingly pale, yellow eyes, and most show some degree of rusty coloring across their back and shoulders that glows in the sunlight. The females show more variations in the patterns and shades of their tawny plumage, but all have the characteristic dark eye patch and pale streak over the eye – and altogether they have a much more nuanced and interesting appearance than the males.

I still don’t know if there are Brewer’s Blackbirds among them. It’s possible. A few of the females did not appear to have pale eyes, and a few of the males looked very iridescent and showed no rusty coloring – but that might have been a trick of the light.

“January observation can be almost as simple and peaceful as snow, and almost as continuous as cold. There is time not only to see who has done what, but to speculate why.”

Aldo Leopold, Sand County Almanac

We’ve had a string of dark, gray, wet, cold winter days, and the weather has reflected my own mood – cooped up with bronchitis for almost two weeks. Bird activity around the house – as much as I can see of it through the windows and on brief trips outside – has been sporadic. Often when I look out, there’s not a single bird to be seen or heard. At other times, all the usual suspects are around and the yard looks and sounds lively, though in a stark, winter way, with a clarity that’s never felt in other seasons.

The dry chatter of Titmice and Chickadees, and the sharp pink! of a Downy Woodpecker animate the bare limbs of the pecans and oaks. White-throated Sparrows call tseet from the bushes and venture out to hunt in the places where dry brown leaves have piled up. Yellow-rumped Warblers chase each other around, frequently calling check! Carolina Wrens burble and fuss, and often come to the bird baths and feeders. The mew of a Yellow-billed Sapsucker, the onk-onk of a White-breasted Nuthatch or ank-ank-ank of a Red-breasted Nuthatch, and the squeaky-toy calls of Brown-headed Nuthatches are the most colorful sounds, and their appearance always seems to make the scene more interesting.

Occasionally I hear the dry, stuttering call of a Ruby-crowned Kinglet, and less often, the high, thin voices of Golden-crowned Kinglets, but we’ve seen much fewer of both kinglet species this year than last year.

A small mixed flock of Juncos, Chipping Sparrows and a few Bluebirds usually comes by in the mornings to feed in the grass along the roadside. And we’ve been seeing more and more Goldfinches – especially since putting up a finch feeder on the back deck a few days ago. I’ve also seen one male House Finch there, and Chickadees, Titmice, Juncos and Cardinals all are attracted by the seeds that get scattered around the deck and under it on the ground.

This morning one Goldfinch stayed on the feeder for a long time by itself – at least an hour. Its back was turned to me, and it sat on the perch and ate steadily, filling its bill greedily with seeds. I watched it for a while at close range, admiring the soft olive color of its back, flecked with pale spots, the lemon-yellow under its chin, and the greenish-yellow of its cheeks – and then I noticed that one of its eyes was held in a squint. It was closed to no more than a slit. The other eye was open and bright. It kept the bad eye toward the feeder, and the good eye on the open side.

A Mockingbird has been doing its best the past few days to keep all other birds away from the two feeders in our front yard. So far it hasn’t succeeded completely, but I think it has discouraged a few. There seems to be less activity than usual. It sits on top of the hanging block feeder, or squeezes awkwardly onto the tray of the tube feeder and hunches over there, taking a bite now and then, but mostly just looking around.

The Chickadees and Titmice hang out in the branches nearby, and whenever the Mockingbird leaves its post for a while, they take advantage of the break and come back to the feeders quickly. Today I’ve also seen Brown-headed Nuthatches, Downy Woodpeckers, Carolina Wrens and one or two Goldfinches also come to the feeders during times when the Mockingbird is somewhere else. Then after a few minutes, it swoops back in, white wings flashing, scattering all the smaller birds away, and takes up its belligerent watch again.

Meanwhile, the bully on the feeders doesn’t seem to bother other birds in the trees and on the ground. White-throated Sparrows, Yellow-rumped Warblers, a Yellow-bellied Sapsucker, a Ruby-crowned Kinglet, a few Juncos, Cardinals, and Mourning Doves have all been around. Today has been darkly gray and drizzly, with temperatures barely above freezing. Some slushy ice remains in sheltered spots from last night’s brief but lovely snowfall, but mostly everything is just very soggy, cold and dreary.

White-throated Sparrows seem to be everywhere – perched in the bare limbs of a crape myrtle, kicking up wet brown leaves beneath the feeders, and searching under bushes, around tree trunks and in the grass for food. While most of the sparrows industriously went from spot to spot kicking up leaves and pecking at the ground, I watched one for a while that spent most of its time, instead, watching other sparrows. Whenever one of them looked like it had found a good spot, this one hurried over to chase that one away and try the spot for itself. But once it got there, it always seemed to find the spot wasn’t so good after all, and the next minute it was looking around at the other sparrows again. Looking for an easy meal, I guess – but it looked like a losing effort.

This afternoon a pair of Brown-headed Nuthatches stayed around the feeders and in nearby trees for a long time. Most of the time they were quiet, only calling to each other in very soft peeps. They seem to like the same broken stub of a branch in a water oak tree that the Red-breasted Nuthatches like. One sat on it for a long time, tucked up against the trunk, facing the lowering sun. For a good while, it just sat and looked around, then it began preening, stretching out the white patch on the nape of its neck as its head bent over.

A Red-breasted Nuthatch flew into some high branches nearby, and one of the Brown-headed Nuthatches flew toward it and seemed to chase it away. Shortly after that, both of the Brown-headed Nuthatches sat together on the broken stub, side by side, and one preened the other, combing through the feathers on its nape and back with its beak.