Birding Notes

Early on a beautiful, cool, blue-sky morning, a Pine Warbler sang, and a Yellow-bellied Sapsucker flew quietly to the trunk of a pecan tree in our front yard. The sunlight lit its dusky yellow belly, flecked with charcoal, and made its throat and forehead burn clear, true red. After a minute or two of tapping on the trunk, he flew restlessly to one branch and then another, on this tree and another nearby before he finally found a spot that seemed satisfactory, where he stayed and worked his way steadily and intently upward. Except for the flashes of brilliant red and the sound of his tapping, his coloring was so close to the mottled dark gray of the trees he might have gone unnoticed.

This bird with a funny name that’s often the source of jokes about birdwatchers is actually very striking in appearance, mostly patterned in black and white, with a pale yellow belly and bright red forehead and throat on the males. The females have a white throat, and juveniles are several shades of brown and white in similar patterns. The Yellow-bellied Sapsuckers are a common winter sight in our neighborhood, which is an old pecan grove still full of trees, and their piquant mewing calls can often be heard among the bare gray branches.

When my sons were little boys, they loved to go out right after a rain and play in the puddles along our dirt and gravel driveway. This afternoon I saw a small flock of about 40 Rusty Blackbirds that reminded me of them. The air felt warm and still damp, and the ground everywhere was soggy. In one large, low-lying grassy area, soaked and flowing with rainwater in streams and puddles, the Blackbirds chattered and pecked at the ground and tossed up wet dark leaves. They’re usually very skittish and fly up as soon as I approach, but today, I was able to get closer to them than ever, they were so absorbed in puddle-splashing and leaf-tossing and generally having a good time – or so it seemed.

March began with a rumble of thunder at first light, and a day of storms and hard rain, though we missed the tornados and terrible destruction experienced by central and south Georgia and Alabama. Mid-morning, in heavy rain, I watched as a Dark-eyed Junco and a Robin took shelter in the branches of a Savannah Holly just outside our window. The Robin stayed only briefly before restlessly flying away. The Junco, a small, slate-gray, sparrow-like bird shook itself all over, then took advantage of the time to preen breast, wings and tail, fanning its tail and showing the white edges. Though its gray coloring reflected the somber mood of the day, it seemed more to enjoy the rain than not. Juncos have been regulars under our feeder and in the grass in both front and back yards all winter.

The highlight in our yard and neighborhood this month has been the beginning of birdsong. On February 8, Cardinals, Chickadees, Titmice, Carolina Wrens, House Finches, Bluebirds and White-throated Sparrows all were singing, and one Song Sparrow tried out a rusty version of his song. On February 9, I heard the first Pine Warbler sing, and since then their soft trill has been heard almost every day. Phoebes began to sing February 13, and the first Brown Thrasher on February 20.

We’ve continued to have many active White-throated Sparrows, Dark-eyed Juncos, and Yellow-rumped Warblers around our front yard, along with Ruby-crowned Kinglet, Golden-crowned Kinglet, Yellow-bellied Sapsucker, Red-bellied Woodpecker, a pair of Downy Woodpeckers, and one lone Robin. Occasional visitors included Northern Flicker, Brown-headed Nuthatches, and Hairy Woodpecker.

A flock of Rusty Blackbirds has continued to visit the grassy yards of the neighborhood; and I’ve seen a Cooper’s Hawk three times; a Belted Kingfisher three times; and heard the calls of a pair of Barred Owls once. Toward the end of the month, we began to see a small flock of Cedar Waxwings.

Late this afternoon, in warm, sunny weather, a small flock of Cedar Waxwings perched in the tops of several cedars and bare-limbed trees on either side of a neighborhood street. They were widely scattered, and in constant motion, hawking for insects. Each would perch for a brief moment only, then flutter up to catch an insect, yellow breast and the trim gold tip of its tail flashing in the sunlight, then return to a different perch. All together, they looked like colorful sparks jumping from a hidden fire, and their high, thin calls sounded like sparkles, too.

For the past few days, the first thing I’ve heard at dawn is the clear, bright song of a Cardinal. As soon as I step outside, I can see him, perched in the very top of one of the bare-limbed trees, like a small, precise drop of glistening red paint on a canvas of pale blue and white, singing “cheer, cheer, cheer, birdie-birdie-birdie.” Late this afternoon, I heard the familiar song in a lower branch, just over my head. But woven into the usual notes were some low purring and trilled sounds that I’d never noticed before. It turned out to be a female Cardinal singing.

Cardinals in general have a varied repertoire of songs and calls, and it’s well known that females sing, too, often in response to their mates. From what I’ve read, the females are capable of singing just as loudly and emphatically when they want to, but in this case, her song – like her coloring – was softer and nuanced with subtle expressions that were quite different from the flamboyant style of her mate.

Early this morning, as a red-gold sun slipped up between dark purple clouds, a Brown Thrasher sang in our yard for the first time this season.

The morning was warm and damp from a brief early shower, and smelled of wet earth and leaves. Cardinals, Titmice and Chickadees also sang, and a Red-tailed Hawk sat in the bare limbs of a pecan tree by our driveway, looking somewhat ominous. Then it flew. Down the street a flock of 50 or more Blackbirds, mostly Grackles, filled the branches of another tree, and their noisy conversation made a crackling background for all the other bird songs and calls.

The day began with a spring-blue sky veiled in thin white clouds, and birdsong. Cardinals, Chickadees, Titmice and Bluebirds have been singing for several days now, and this morning a Phoebe joined them, singing its lisping song for several minutes at the edge of the woods.

By noon, thick gray clouds had moved in and almost covered the sky. Two Red-tailed Hawks swooped low over me as I started out on a walk, startling me with how close they came. In a strong southeasterly wind, they skimmed the tops of the trees and dipped low over roof-tops, then glided away, swiftly and silent, toward the west.

A noisy flock of about a hundred Common Grackles and Rusty Blackbirds fed on a brown grassy lawn in the area where I’ve often seen them this winter. The Rusty Blackbirds still show a good bit of cinnamon coloring, and distinct dark streaks through the eyes. One showed no rusty coloring, but a dark streak through the eyes across a grayish face – and it might have been a Brewer’s Blackbird, but I am not certain. I’ve only just begun to become familiar with the Rusty Blackbirds this year, so I’m not confident enough to be sure this one was different. But it caught my eye. I’m hoping to see them again.

So even a very ordinary looking flock of Blackbirds in a yard in a subdivision can turn out to hold surprises and mysteries.

We only have one feeder in our front yard right now, a mixed block of seeds in a hanging cage, but with shrubs, trees and open areas, and two bird baths that I try to keep filled with water, there’s been a good deal of activity all this month. Some of the coldest, rainiest days have been the most alive with birds.

Yellow-rumped Warblers seem to be everywhere, chasing each other and calling out “chek!” and often visiting one of the bird baths for a drink. White-throated Sparrows call “tsseet” and feed under the shrubs with Eastern Towhees, or on the ground under the feeder with Dark-eyed Juncos, Mourning Doves and one lone Robin that’s been here all month. A pretty, yellow-washed pair of Pine Warblers have been among the most consistent visitors to the feeder, clinging to it for several minutes at a time, and sometimes feeding on the ground underneath. Carolina Chickadees, Tufted Titmice, a pair of Downy woodpeckers and a Red-bellied Woodpecker come to the feeder every day – along with a Ruby-crowned Kinglet and a Carolina Wren, two species I haven’t often seen at our feeders in the past.

A handsome, nervous Brown Thrasher comes regularly to the bird bath that’s closest to the bushes, gets a quick drink, then hops down and tosses up leaves with its long, curved bill, stopping frequently to lift its head and look warily around. One or two Yellow-bellied Sapsuckers forage in the bare-limbed trees almost every day, blending in with the bark of the trunks as they works steadily and quietly except for occasional bright “mews.” Most days I hear the high, thin calls of Golden-crowned Kinglets, though not as often as last fall. Chipping Sparrows and Song Sparrows stay around the shrubs on the edge of the yard, near the road, along with a pair of Eastern Bluebirds that hunt from a low branch near the bluebird house. One Mockingbird, at least two pairs of Cardinals, and three or four Blue Jays are usually somewhere in the front yard as well.

Early this morning, a Hairy Woodpecker flew into a tall thin pine in our front yard, calling out a sharp “peenk!” It worked its way quickly up to the top of the tree, then immediately flew away, calling out in a crisp, metallic rattle as it went. Its black and white plumage looked sharp and clean in the soft, early gray light. Its movements were equally sharp, decisive, almost impatient, and its voice rang clear in the icy cold air. Water in the birdbaths was frozen into solid circles of ice, and the shrubs hung stiff and dark.

A Red-bellied Woodpecker, two Downy Woodpeckers and a Yellow-bellied Sapsucker all were feeding nearby at about the same time, and later in the day, I heard the trumpeting call of a Pileated Woodpecker from the woods as I walked – so today I saw or heard almost all of our winter woodpeckers. (Two winters ago a juvenile Red-headed Woodpecker also spent the winter season in the neighborhood, near a small spring-fed pond. But not this year or last. Occasionally, I’ll still see one passing through, but not often.)