Four and twenty blackbirds—not in a pie

From late March until mid-April watch for loose flocks of noisy blackbirds passing overhead. These flocks of mixed species may include: Red-winged blackbirds, Common grackles, European starlings, Brown-headed cowbirds, and perhaps even Rusty blackbirds. While many birds do migrate with other species, none is as visually obvious as these “blackbird” flocks. Blackbirds, unlike many songbirds migrate during the daytime making them more conspicuous. Watch and listen for these large flocks as they descend on marshes, hay fields, and city ponds. Look for the long, wedge shaped tail of the Common grackle and listen for the “computer on the fritz” song of the Brown-headed cowbird.

American robin – a closer look

photo by Anne Greene

The American robin is as ubiquitous a bird as can be found in New England. Breeding from Texas to Alaska and coast to coast Roger Tory Peterson described this bird in the first edition of his now canonical guide as, “the one bird that everyone knows”. Making messy, mud and grass nests on window sills, in fruits trees, and garage gutters they fill summer evenings with a nostalgic sound and wake the forest each morning. Despite entrenched New England lore, robins are not the harbingers of spring. Instead, robins migrate short to medium distances or over winter in New England eating up frozen crab apples and bittersweet berries. Often the winter robins found in New England are in fact hardier Canadian birds that will head north come March, replaced by more southerly birds that will spend the summer nesting in New England backyards. Don’t pass over these already known and easily identified birds as more careful observation will actually unlock the gender of a robin. Male birds have a much darker head, soot black in contrast to their dark grey back and a deeper orange belly. Females have more washed out general appearance with dusty head and back and muted orange belly. This is a good reminder that seeing any bird is a chance to learn something new.  

Eastern Phoebe – good news spring, bad news mosquitoes

The first nasally, “fee-bee… fee-bee… fee-bew”  is always a welcome noise to ponds and marshes around Southern New England. The Eastern phoebe returns to New England from a winter spent from Texas to Florida. Phoebes easily earn their title of flycatcher by picking tiny winged bugs from midair on quick, acrobatic sorties. Phoebes often use a favorite thin branch or fence post from which to continually perch then dart into the air. Sitting straight on the branch watch for the arrhythmic bobbing of their tail, a good clue for identification. Found in wooded edge, around ponds, parks, and marshy areas the Eastern phoebe goes where the bugs go, though seems quite at home around human development. Their closely colored cousin, the Eastern wood-pewee favors deep woods. Keep an ear open for this early spring arrival and the plaintive, nasal, “fee-bee” call.

Northern Saw-whet owl - sawing the night

The night is being poked by a small, almost stage prop sound effect. The sound arrhythmic enough to make it non-mechanical, is a repetitious and almost comical “wo-wo-wo-wo-wo…” coming from across the marsh, out of the woods. The sound is almost that of a frog, but with ice still on the water it’s too early for peepers and croakers. The sound is that of an abundant yet elusive New England raptor, the Northern Saw-whet owl. Standing a minute 7-8” tall the Saw-whet owl nests in cavities, hunts at night in dense conifer forests and goes mostly unseen. Spring nights find these owls beginning to court and build nests. Listen for the subtle and strange call of the Saw-whet owl, named after the signing sound a hand saw makes when it is being sharpened.  

Gardening for Birds

As the grass or some semblance of muddy straw reappears from under winter’s dump people across New England pull out baskets of trowels, coils of hose, and bags of soil and fertilizer. Whether some vestigial agricultural gene, modern keeping up with the Jones, or love of getting hands in the soil gardening and landscaping has become the nation’s leading pastime and a massive industry. The standard garden has become a combination of window height shrubs around the house, flowing green lawn rolling down to wood’s edge, interspersed with islands of perennials and flowering trees. These large lawns and landscaped backyards have no doubt increased breeding habitat for certain species of birds. However, an open lawn is devoid of important tangles for ground feeding birds to hide in, food for native birds to eat, and worst yet encourages the over use of fertilizer and pesticides. The use of chemical fertilizer and pesticides is a major threat to American song birds. Pesticides move up the food chain in any environment accumulating in large predators like falcons, eagles, foxes, and dolphins. But even small, insect-eating song birds like warblers, bluebirds, swallows, and thrush are adversely affected by garden pesticides. A healthy yard for birds should minimize the use of insecticides and pesticides and gardeners with an interest in birds should move to non-toxic alternatives. Fertilizers too have adverse affects on birds and native wildlife specifically by entering the water table and making their way into streams, rivers, ponds and lakes causing algae blooms, fish kills, and creating environments for invasive species. Creating a healthy backyard for birds should include an area that is “wild” uncut and scrubby, promote seed bearing trees and shrubs, fruit trees, and especially the elimination of all pesticides and fertilizers.

Allen's hummingbird - the private life

Like the tiny Ruby-throated hummingbird I am flying thousands of miles. Unlike the hummingbird I am traveling on a 737 airplane, my journey will take six hours, and I will be served peanuts and ginger ale along the way. The purpose of my west-to-east migration is burning the chill from my bones while the Ruby-throat’s mission is one of nest building, egg laying, and young rearing. Weighing a mere 3.5 grams (less than a nickel), hummingbirds can migrate up to 1500 miles from Central America to New England, crossing the Gulf of Mexico in a single go. Hummingbirds are unique in their ability fly backwards, a skill dependent on the unique figure eight motion of their wings. Though Ruby-throated hummingbirds won’t be back in New England until May so in the mean time bask in the warmth of the California sun via this nest camera of an Allen’s Hummingbird in Orange County, CA.

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Expert bird watchers – liars or freaks?

Going bird watching with an expert can be an unnerving experience for the beginner birder. The expert seems to pull birds out of thin air, yelling names and pointing to a tiny grey lump in a tree or a slight shuffling of leaves. The expert seems to know the name of the bird before the beginner has even gotten binocular to eye leaving the newbie to ask, “How do they do it?” The first obvious answer is simply, “liar!” But, after a few hours in the field the beginner comes to see that the lumps in the tree are waxwings and the shuffles of leaves are vireos and accepts that the expert is actually seeing the birds they shout out. The second logical thought is, “exceptional eyesight”. Is it possible that the expert bird watcher is in fact some kind of spider-bit, half human, half hawk capable of seeing tiny field marks at fifty yards? Not always. The truth however, may be even more complicated and incredible than this.

Is it possible that the advanced bird watcher actually stores the identity of individual species in specific locations in the brain achieving almost instantaneous recall? Recent brain research has shown that when a patient is shown a picture of say Bill Clinton, the Sydney Opera House, or Marilyn Monroe a specific and different spot seems to “light up” in the brain with each example. This idea suggests that the bird watcher is not going through a laundry list of field marks, a mental who’s who of the bird world, and spitting out an answer but rather is triggering a lifetime of background information that is stored in its own location ready to be triggered by a certain kind of song, habitat, or brief impression. What gets more incredible is the human brain’s ability to fill in missing information. 

Consider this picture. Pixilated and blurry yet the majority of North American adults can identify the two people in the photo. The brain fills in information that is simply not there, creating a positive identification. Is it possible that the brain of the expert bird watcher is filling in missing visual information with habitat and topography, sound, weather, even smell to trigger an instant identification? Though this theory may sound far fetched future research might someday unlcok this amazing process. For now the beginner has to accept that there are complicated systems at work but also take heart that this is no act of supernatural powers, simply time spent looking at birds, and then pause to ask, “how did I know that was Bill and Hillary?” 

Cooper’s Hawk – the other hawk

www.futuresoon.com/2008/07/banding-coopers-hawks.html

The Red-tailed hawk soars over open fields on outstretched wings giving its iconic “creeeeeee” call, conjuring images of stagecoaches and coyotes. But New England has another hawk, a smaller, quieter and increasingly common figure in backyards and wooded parks. The Cooper’s hawk is one of three “accipiters” or forest hawks that make New England their home. The smallest of the three is the Sharp-shinned hawk (not much larger than a Blue jay) and the biggest is the Northern goshawk, a fierce-eyed hunter of the deep woods.

The Cooper’s hawk falls in the middle of the three accipiters and with the rise of suburban development, forest edge, and bird feeders has become a happy and increasingly abundant breeder in New England. Unlike the Red-tail’s hunting style of watching for mice and voles from atop a bare tree the accipiters hunt song birds, often taking them midflight, or right off a bird feeder.

The Cooper’s hawk sits upright on the branch like a Parochial school boy. They are built for the chase with stubby wings and a long, narrow tail designed for making quick cuts around trees and shrubs not soaring over fields. In the air the Cooper’s hawk has a distinctive flap-flap-glide flight pattern, giving 2-3 short wing beats broken by a brief respite of gliding. In flight Cooper’s hawks don't always fan their tail like the Red-tailed hawk and are often described as “a flying cross” for their long, narrow body and tail bisected with short stubby wings.

Watch for smaller, vertically perched hawks at the wood's edge or the flap-flap-glide flight pattern indicative of all accipiters. These are the first clues that the bird is not a Red-tailed hawk but most likely a Cooper’s or Sharp-shinned hawk. Distinguishing between these two species of accipiters is a real challenge and will be discussed in detail during the fall hawk migration.  

That’s not an owl… spoiler alert it’s a Mourning dove

photo by Anne Greene

Known for its plaintive five noted call, the Mourning dove is one of the most abundant birds in all of North America. The plump, rosy gray and tan bird likes to walk solemnly under bird feeders and post up in trees and on telephone wires in small numbers. With a long pointed tail and telling wing whir, the Mourning dove is a fast and surprisingly agile flier. When the dove takes to the air it creates a distinctive noise with its wings, similar to the sound Curly made when poked in the eye by one of the other Stooges.  

Found in all of the lower 48 states the Mourning dove has been exciting and deceiving people for years. “There’s an owl on the roof!” The truth is that the sad yet melodious series of “hoos” is a Mourning dove. In the spring male doves begin singing before dawn and carry on to dusk. The haunting song adds a dreaminess to a midday nap in June with the windows laid wide to the ocean. Learn and listen for the call of the Mourning dove and begin to hear the “non-owl”call, another sign that spring has arrived.