Birding Notes

The first day of Summer began quietly, well before dawn, with the solitary song of a Wood Thrush in the distance. Then a Summer Tanager began to sing right outside my bedroom window, joined by one, and then two Cardinals, then an Eastern Towhee, a Carolina Wren and a Bluebird. By 6:00 am the yard around the house was full of birdsong – Titmouse, Phoebe, Red-eyed Vireo, Great Crested Flycatcher, Yellow-billed Cuckoo, Black and White Warbler, Blue-gray Gnatcatcher, Brown-headed Nuthatch and Goldfinch, and probably others lost among the chorus. As I stepped out the front door to go for a walk at 6:30, the sky was a quiet gray with high rumpled clouds beginning to show faint pink.

The streets of the neighborhood were empty, the houses all quiet. I saw no one, and not a single car or truck passed me as I walked. Three Brown Thrashers sang along the way. A Blue Grosbeak sang from the top of a small pine. A juvenile Red-tailed Hawk sat in the top of a larger pine in the same area and screamed repeatedly, and a Yellow-breasted Chat whistled and cawed in the Old Field.

The rest of the day was a perfect summer day – hot, humid, breezy, with birds active, but in a much less hurried and exuberant way than in early spring. The morning sky was a gentle blue with high thin cirrus clouds, the trees a deeper, summery green. The whine and drone of insects, the heat and humidity, all combined to make it seem that everything has settled into a serious, but more relaxed pace. Tiger Swallowtail and Red-spotted Purple Butterflies floated among the trees and over the grass and flowers. The whine of Cicadas rose and fell.

Later in the morning, Chimney Swifts twittered as they swept overhead. A Great Crested Flycatcher called Whreep! from the low branches around the house. A pair of Ruby-throated Hummingbirds visited the feeder now and then, though not often. A female house finch came to the bird bath for a drink. A Red-bellied Woodpecker called its purring whirrrr. A Yellow-throated Vireo made its way through the woods, singing as it went. Paper wasps hunted around the shrubs, and green anoles skittered along the deck rails and up into the hanging ferns. And a Chipping Sparrow gave a long, level trill from a bush in the front yard, over and over again – becoming the most noticeable song of the morning.

A Yellow-billed Cuckoo sang its dry, exotic song all around the edge of the woods most of the afternoon, along with the pik-a-tuk of a Summer Tanager, the pit-seet! of an Acadian Flycatcher from down in the woods near the creek, and the complaining nyaay of a Red-eyed Vireo in the oaks – the sounds of a summer day.

It’s been a very pleasant, very warm late spring day with a stiff breeze and crowds of big gleaming white clouds passing steadily across a sky of deep, clear cobalt blue. Birds were active. In mid afternoon, I heard the call of a Yellow-billed Cuckoo nearby, and the songs of Black and White Warbler, Red-eyed Vireo, Summer Tanager, Scarlet Tanager, the whirr of a Red-bellied Woodpecker and the chatter of Titmice and Chickadees.

But – sadly – the Wood Thrushes seem to have abandoned their nest. Although the male sang around the back yard all morning as usual, the female is not on the nest and we did not see either of the pair approach the nest all day. We can’t see inside it, but have watched often in hopes of catching a glimpse of the parents.

My husband, Clate, has taken several pictures of the nesting Wood Thrush – including this one, in which the female (we think) has just arrived back at the nest after taking a break for a few minutes. The legs of the male can just barely be seen on the edge of the nest. He seems to stand guard beside it whenever she leaves for a brief time.

Both yesterday and today, we frequently saw the female standing on the edge of the nest and looking down into it, sometimes poking it. Then she settles back down. Early in the morning, she sits low in the nest, but later in the day she mostly sits higher or even stands over it, maybe because of the heat, and at times her beak is parted, as if she’s panting.

Once today, I saw the male arrive at the nest with something in its beak. Both he and the female perched on the edge of the nest and poked into it, then she lifted her head with what looked like a worm in her beak and ate it.

We don’t watch them all day, so I’m sure there’s a lot we miss – but keep the scope set up and have a look whenever we have a chance.

Thanks, Clate, for the pictures!

This morning we found a Timber Rattlesnake – dead on the road in our cul de sac. Its head was completely mashed and gone, and part of its tail was also gone. But the rest of its body was still undamaged, lying in an awkward S-shape on the road in the section that goes past a vacant lot grown up in tall grasses and trees. The snake was at least three feet long, and impressively thick around the middle part. A coppery stripe ran like a ribbon down the middle of its back, and a part of the sooty-black tip of its tail remained, but no rattle. The background color of its heavy-looking body was pinkish tan, crossed with jagged black bands.

I wouldn’t want to step on one of these in the woods, of course – where they usually stay. They feed mostly on small mammals like squirrels, chipmunks and rats. They are said to have a secretive nature and to be generally passive unless provoked – though if they are disturbed, they will strike and are venomous.

It’s a rare and interesting experience to see one, and it’s encouraging to know that enough natural habitat remains around here for them to continue to exist – though unfortunately, there’s one less around now.

When we returned home late yesterday, after a week-long trip, we were greeted by the song of a Wood Thrush in our back yard – and I was delighted to find the Wood Thrush female still sitting on her nest and looking bright-eyed and healthy. While we were gone, she survived a brief heat wave, with temperatures in the upper 90s for a few days; and then a heavy storm with wind and rain that blew down a few big branches here and there. But it was really the predators I was concerned about – we have a good many Blue Jays, Crows, Squirrels and other potential nest predators around. But so far, so good.

On a leaf-screened limb of a large white oak just outside our bedroom windows, a Wood Thrush is sitting in her nest. Nearby, at the edge of the woods and all around the back yard, the male Wood Thrush is singing.

I discovered the nest only a few minutes ago, around 1:30 this afternoon. Until yesterday, I hadn’t even heard one singing in our woods this spring – or for the past several years, except for the occasional one passing through – so I couldn’t have been more surprised.

Early yesterday afternoon, after several very busy days that kept me from spending as much time outside as usual, I had a few minutes to sit on our back deck after lunch and read. The weather was warm and humid, the sky pale blue with big restless gray and white clouds. Thanks to a good soaking rain over the weekend – after a long stretch of very dry weather – the grass and all the plants and trees looked fresh again, as if they had been washed in green. A gusty wind rushed through the woods, tossing the branches and leaves of the oaks, sweet gums and pines, and making the air feel clean and sweet. Now and then the wind paused, and the trees stood still.

From deep in the leaves near the edge of the woods came the flute-like, musical song of a Wood Thrush. It came like a gift, like the rain, refreshing and calming in a time that has been rather tense and demanding. For several minutes, I just sat and listened, surrounded by green leaves and serenaded by the music.

The song of a Wood Thrush used to be common in our woods all spring and summer, but for the past few years, we have rarely heard one here though one or two have continued to sing in other parts of our neighborhood. So I felt lucky to have one with us, even if only for a day or two.

This morning the Wood Thrush continued to sing all morning, right outside my window. After lunch, I went outside again – and just happened to catch sight of the female as she flew into the white oak only a few feet above me, and slipped down into her nest. The nest is about halfway out on a relatively low limb. It’s screened by leaves, but not hard to see if you know it’s there. Through the scope, we can see her wide, alert eyes and creamy white throat with dark streaks, and when she rose up for a few seconds to scratch, the bold black spots on her breast.

I’m amazed to have them nesting so near our house and almost don’t want to go out on the deck at all, for fear of disturbing her. We can watch her through the scope from inside. Right now, just after 2:00 pm, the male continues to sing all around the back yard as thunder rumbles around.

Yesterday evening, just after sundown, I listened for several minutes to the “chik-brrrr!” calls of a Scarlet Tanager in the woods behind our house. The sound felt electric, and I could almost feel a shivering buzz going up my neck as the calls moved through the deep green of the woods along the creek, from west to east. We’ve been hearing the Scarlet Tanager’s song almost every day since early May, and I think there almost certainly is a pair nesting here, though they are deep in the woods and not often seen in the open. They are said to have a preference for oaks, and I wonder if they might be nesting in the tall old white oak that dominates the section of the woods behind our house, on the northern side of Call’s Creek. One evening last week, the male flew over me, from the edge of the woods. I caught just a glimpse of crimson, with the band of black on the tail. They are so elusive, and stay so hidden among the green leaves of the hardwoods, that their presence might pass unnoticed, except for their distinctive song and calls, and the occasional glimpse of their burning red plumage.

A pair of Summer Tanagers spends a lot of time in the trees around our house, and this morning I watched them together, preening among the leaves of a large white oak. The female – who spent much more time on her grooming than the male did, at least on this occasion – looked beautiful in a quiet, understated way, with her rich dark yellow breast, and olive-yellow back and wings. She was so close I could even see the faint yellow ring around each eye. She blended in so well with the leaves that I probably would not have seen her if they hadn’t flown in together – the rose-red male quickly catching my eye. With their long, thick bills and slightly crested heads, Summer Tanagers usually look more sturdy and strong than graceful, but this morning the female was the picture of feminine charm.

The male Summer Tanager sings early every morning right outside our bedroom windows, and often during the rest of the day, and their soft, staccato “pi-tuk” calls – often sounding very domestic and expressive – lace through the trees all day. It’s a pleasant, peaceful, summery sound.

Braveheart, the White-tailed Deer with the crippled front leg, has a fawn. It is very small, with wobbly legs, and does not stand up long. When it beds down in the dry brown leaves against the trunk of a big fallen pine, it’s almost invisible.

When I stepped outside this morning, I saw the doe in our front yard, and she immediately began limping back toward me and the house, which was unusual. I sat down for a few minutes, and turned my attention to something else, then I saw her standing with the fawn, only a few yards away from our house, in the shade at the edge of the woods. The fawn took a few steps, but looked unsteady, then curled up beside the big trunk of the pine, deep in thick brown leaves, dappled by filtered sunlight. Its white spots and soft brown color blend in so well that it’s almost impossible to see, unless you see an ear move. Braveheart went back to browsing, making her way up the hill and pausing to munch on several lush green mouthfuls of my butterfly bush. Oh well.

We have far too many deer in the neighborhood, and I often feel annoyed because they eat so many of our flowers and shrubs. But it isn’t their fault their woodland habitat is being steadily destroyed by houses and subdivisions. Braveheart seems to have adopted our yard as her home territory, and I can’t help but feel sympathy and admiration for her, and hope she and her fawn will survive and live well.

As I walked along the trail beside the beaver pond, I heard an emphatic “tsuk!” repeated in the shrubs beside me. A small olive-green bird flitted from branch to branch – and then I saw its face, a brilliant yellow-gold, with black markings around the eyes and trailing down its cheeks. A Kentucky Warbler.

I had heard at least four Kentucky Warblers singing at different places along the river, but didn’t expect to see one, because they usually stay so deep in the under-story vegetation. So this was a happy surprise, and the highlight of a beautiful morning walk in the State Botanical Garden in Athens. The weather was sunny, unusually cool, and birds were active.

Another highlight was earlier in the morning, in a section of power cut near the Oconee River. Here, the tall vegetation seemed to be popping with the colors and sounds of brilliant Blue Grosbeaks, Indigo Buntings and Common Yellowthroats. Both male and female Grosbeaks flew from stalk to stalk, and sometimes up in the branches of trees at the edge of the woods, frequently calling their metallic “plink!” An Indigo Bunting sat in the branch of a small tree and sang. Common Yellowthroats called “chttz!” and sang “wichery-wichery-wichery” from deep in the vegetation, and one flew up and paused on top of a stalk with a wriggling insect in its bill. In the bright morning light, its yellow face and throat, black mask, and even the blurry band of white above the mask glowed.

Meanwhile in the background, a Kentucky Warbler, White-eyed Vireos, Blue-gray Gnatcatchers, a Parula Warbler and an Acadian Flycatcher were singing. A Red-shouldered Hawk flew from a perch in a tall tree over the river and began to circle and cry, “keee-yer!” and was joined by two more Red-shouldered Hawks, all three calling back and forth as they circled and climbed higher.

From the White Trail that follows the river, I watched two Louisiana Waterthrushes hunt among the exposed roots and murky holes in the opposite bank. They moved quickly, with bobbing tails and frequently called out “chip!” A Prothonotary Warbler and a Hooded Warbler sang, along with more Parulas, White-eyed Vireos, Red-bellied Woodpeckers and Acadian Flycatchers. A Great Blue Heron and two Wood Ducks flew over.

In the beaver pond area, where I saw the Kentucky Warbler, two Red-headed Woodpeckers flew from place to place around the pale trunks of standing dead trees, their wings flashing white and their crimson heads gleaming in the noon-day sun. Two Phoebes sang and hunted from low perches, and another Common Yellowthroat sang – along with the thrumming songs of Green Frogs, and a clacking song that I think may have been Northern Cricket Frogs.

It’s a perfect time of year to be outside, when birds and other wildlife are so active, and was a perfect way to spend a fine Sunday morning.