Birding Notes

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.)

The sun hovered just above the horizon, ready to go down, a huge red shimmering ball; the sky was pale blue and empty, except for a high, bright gibbous moon in the east. I was on my way home, walking fast, fingers numb from cold, when I saw a flash of wings and the long tail of a Cooper’s Hawk as it flew to the middle of a bare-limbed oak and perched there. All I could see as I walked toward it was a tangle of branches and a silhouette from behind, but as I got closer, it flew and passed straight in front of me at eye level, leaving a very brief but vivid image – almost as if it hung in the air and reflected the colors of the sunset – of blue-gray back and wings, glowing red breast, flashing eye, and long banded tail of dark and lighter gray, with a wide band of white rounding the end. It flew directly into the dark green depths of a large magnolia, where it remained, well hidden, even though I lingered until after the sun had gone down, and turned around several times to look back when I finally walked on up the street.

Late this afternoon – another cold, damp, dark gray day – a small flock of Rusty Blackbirds fed in the bleached-brown grass of a yard down the street from our house, beneath bare-limbed pecan trees. Still in winter plumage, the black males showed a lot of rusty or cinnamon color, especially across the wings, head and back, and the females were even more handsome, in tawny shades of tan and reddish-brown, with a prominent dark eye-line against a pale brown face. Rusty Blackbirds are only here in the winter, but it might be argued that we get to see them in their most appealing colors. In breeding plumage, the males are all black and the females are blackish gray – but during the fall and winter, they glow with the varied rusty highlights that give them their name.

Flocks of Common Grackles – larger, glossy black birds with long tails, large bills, and harsh voices are common here in the winter, and occasionally Red-winged Blackbirds with their more appealing “con-ka-reee” calls will join them. But Rusty Blackbirds are much less common. As these moved restlessly from one yard to the next, they also seemed shyer, more easily startled into flight, and less noisy than other Blackbird flocks.

A cold, gray day. Heavy rain yesterday and last night left muddy water standing in roadside ditches and puddles in potholes. In mid-afternoon, as I walked through the neighborhood, the landscape looked drenched and dreary, bare-limbed trees against a featureless sky, soggy pines, cedars and bushes, and brown, wet grass.

In a low branch of a bare-limbed pecan tree, an immature Red-shouldered Hawk sat quietly, its breast creamy-pale and streaked with a bib of dark brown. As I walked near, and paused to lift my binoculars, it spread its wings and flew, showing muted bands in its tail. It flew low, through a line of cedar trees, and disappeared from my view, but flying slowly, as if it did not intend to go far. From the cedars, I heard the calls of White-throated Sparrows, and the “see-see-see” of Golden-crowned Kinglets.

Just four days ago, on another cold, dark, gray afternoon at about the same time, I saw another Red-shouldered Hawk sitting on a low branch in a tree in the yard next door. This one was mature. It looked large and impressive, its breast glowing a rich red-orange in the gloom of the afternoon.

Under a cold, gray, mottled sky and the icy threat of freezing rain or sleet in the forecast, a warm yellow Pine Warbler clung to our bird feeder for several minutes, flying off only to chase away another male Pine Warbler nearby. When it left, a reddish House Finch took its place, along with a Downy Woodpecker and, briefly, even a Ruby-crowned Kinglet. An energetic Brown Thrasher tossed aside leaves from a site among our front yard bushes, feeding on something it found there. Yellow-rumped Warblers darted all around the house and yard, calling out “chek!” and “chek!” like leaves stirred up by the wind.