Most of our land is White Pine and hardwoods but our neighbor to the south has a delightful meadow that the dog and I visit several times a day on our walks. We cross an old stonewall and enter into a clearing which is getting overgrown with pine seedlings and bushes. It is a great place for seeing hawks, White-throated Sparrows, Song Sparrows, and Common Yellowthroats. The morning sun hits it early so even in winter, it is a nice stopping spot.
There is a berry bush there which I always check for birds, especially now that the fruit is ripe. Yesterday morning, I heard the Cedar Waxwings above me before I saw them and sure enough, one started working the bush, popping up for a morning photograph. What stunning birds they are — and they seem to know it. One of my favorite birds.
As you know if you follow my Vermont Airstreamers blog, I’m in the midst of a major renovation project and thus, am spending little time for birding. This morning, I was tempted to spend an hour or two early at North Branch Nature Center, seeing if I could run into the Black-billed Cuckoo they have been hearing nearly daily. I have been down there on several occasions recently with no luck — and today I decided to press on and get some errands done downtown. I came home with my supplies for the Airstream project and after coffee, headed out to strip some clear coat off two stubborn panels.
I had tested a couple of stripping compounds and had just started to check them when I heard a cuckoo sound just across the driveway and up in the woods. I ran to the garage to get my binoculars and Mary, whose window was open, said, “Was that a cuckoo?” I said it was and went up to look for a few minutes but it had ceased calling. I returned to my project since I needed to rinse off the stripper before it dried on. About then, the Black-billed Cuckoo called again from a different spot.
A Black-billed Cuckoo on Wood Road in North Middlesex, VT.
So, I had my cuckoo — a life bird and a County bird — but I was not satisfied because up to this point, have always seen the bird I log as a life bird. I know that hearing it is a positive ID and I worked for about another fifteen minutes, hearing the bird periodically. Finally, I decided to drop things, get the dog, and go for a little walk looking for it. And so we did, down the driveway and across the road where I last heard it. After ten minutes, I caught movement of a cuckoo-sized bird but had trouble finding it in the foliage. I finally got part of it in the binoculars just as it started a very soft co0-coo-coo. I fiddled with the camera, struggled to get it in the frame, and snapped off a couple of shots for a record. I grabbed the binoculars as a second cuckoo joined the first but they moved off before I could get the camera up again. They moved off, calling now and then, and the dog and I returned up to the trailer to get back to work.
Black-billed Cuckoos have been a nemesis bird for me now for several years – I can’t tell you how many trips I’ve made to look for them. And two just show up in our dooryard! Such is birding. I’m glad I got a good look and the photo – it feels more like a real life bird — number 357 and the second one this month.
I’ve taken a break from birding for the last three weeks, aside from walks with the dog in our woods, as I work on some Airstream projects. Today, my friends at Grow Compost, a wonderful local business, had a day-long event which included a brief afternoon bird walk. A friend of mine was leading it and the owners hoped I might drop by, and so I did with very low expectations. After all, it is mid-afternoon in July.
A few of us gathered including the leader, Patti, and another Mad Birder friend, Pat Folsom. The six of us, after a repast of lemonade and cookies, trudged out by the fermenting piles of compost, aiming toward a Turkey Vulture perch at the end of the property. We saw and heard the usual suspects — Song Sparrows, Ovenbird, American Crow, Black-capped Chickadee and once at the edge of the woods, found a few flycatchers that we finally decided were Eastern Phoebes.
It was fun being out and with some good birders and we ticked off about a dozen species, and then watched a warbler working away, actively feeding. It was pretty plain and of course, silent, so we sort of chalked it up to “unknown female/juvenile warbler.” Pat said, “Sometimes you just have to let them go.” Up ahead, we heard some chipping in a thicket, and stealthily approached, thinking that it might be a Common Yellowthroat. It was pretty aggressive calling and Pat got a glimpse of yellow but that was it. And it stopped.
We waited a while and since the time was over for the walk, had just decided to head back when a bird popped out on a hemlock branch. I spotted it and said, “I see it, it’s yellow, get over on it, Canada Warbler, got it …” I was sure it would disappear but the group got on it right away and sure enough, a male Canada Warbler was scolding us. He hopped around, giving us great looks, and I grabbed this shot of him. (Warblers are tough, they are always moving.)
This guy is life bird 346 for me — a long time coming.
It was a year-bird for all of us and I was pretty sure that it was a life bird for me. (It was) We realized that it likely had a nest nearby, and that we had likely seen the female earlier. We quietly withdrew, with him still chipping away at us, and finished the outing on a real up note. It got us thinking that we should bird this area more extensively since there are miles of trails up high that have great potential.
The takeaway item for me was: you just never know with birding — sometimes it just pays to show up.
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Yesterday morning, in spite of the damp misty tropic-like air, I decided to do a little birding at the North Branch Nature Center with the Vizsla. I was hoping to hear/see the Black-billed Cuckoo that they heard the day before — but yet another try and failure for this nemesis bird for me. However, I did get a wonderful birding bonus, one of those non-avian observations that make one glad he’s outside with binos and a camera.
I doused myself with Deep Woods Off before heading out but the mosquitoes were unrelenting — there were dozens swirling around my head and laughing at the repellant. I’m not sure that might also have be lapping at it as well. But the birds were active and Blackburnian Warblers and American Redstarts flashed through the foliage, singing away. The fields are like jungle but the center keeps a series of paths mowed so, aside from the swampy areas, it’s easy going. I had about 20 species logged when I came through a little opening and saw two ears elevated. I could hardly see the deer (in spite of being 6-3) but I held the camera over my head and using the screen, shot this picture.
You can’t see me — I’m hidden in the ferns!
I moved slowly so as to not disturb the doe who had not smelled us. The dog, being way below the foliage on the path, on a leash, had no clue she was there. The path circled her and she watched me the whole time as I moved away, but was never disturbed. It was a beautiful moment — she just looked so peaceful there in her big patch of tall ferns.
We went on the get ten or so more species including a Green Heron flying overhead. It felt like birding in Alabama and I was drenched when we got back to the car, just in time to see the day campers getting ready to head out and search the beaver pond for vertebrates. They likely came back a lot muddier and wetter than I — and the cuckoo better wait around for me — I’ll be back.
In spite of the long spell of hot, humid weather, it’s been fun to see and hear all the fledglings and juveniles — this seems to be the best year we’ve had for nesting in our woods. After a spring of two or three Purple Finches, suddenly we have eight to a dozen hitting the feeders, trying to figure out how to handle sunflower seeds.
At times, purple finches swarm the feeders.
This afternoon, the dog and I had an explosion of about a dozen juvenile Ruffed Grouse blast out of the tall grass just up behind the house as we started a walk. Of course, she’s a bird dog and supposed to point but she just takes off after them. One perched on low pine branch, saw the red flash coming, and thought better of it. They were big enough to fly well and the dog gave up right away. (Earlier in the season, I worry about the chicks and their peeping, but usually the mom, with her wounded bird act, draws off the Vizsla.)
Some of the goldfinches in their new plumage are just striking – and they seem to know it.
I know it’s not recommended in many circles, but we keep up feeders all summer, taking them in each night. The birds don’t necessarily need the food but it’s wonderful to see the new crops of birds coming in each day. We’ve had young Rose-breasted Grosbeaks for the first time ever, and more Red-breasted Nuthatches than I can ever recall. Of course, the new crop of Blue Jays are eating us out of house and home as they hit the suet hard when the woodpeckers are not on it. At one point, I figured it was costing us a dollar a day to feed those beautiful blue birds — until we started shooing them off or pulling the suet feeder in part of the day.
Several young nuthatches are getting comfortable at the feeder.
Even the Mourning Doves are in the act. Instead of two or four, we now often have six or eight — several of them definitely juveniles. Hairy Woodpeckers feed suet to noisy youngsters who look old enough to fend for themselves.
It’s fun to hear all the bird calls in the early morning walks. We seem to have doubled the number of Ovenbirds and the new ones seem less wary and more inquisitive as we walk by. White-throated Sparrows practice their call — it reminds me of when they first get back on territory and get part of their call out, try again, and finally get it right. I hear warblers every morning — Nashville, Northern Parula, Black-throated Green, Black and White, and Pine — and others that are drowned out by the constant Ovenbird calling.
The new crop of hummers are tanking up every day.
These summer days have some poignancy as well since I know that the new plumage and the building up of energy stores is part of the preparation for migration. Summer is usually a quiet time for birders but why not stop and seize the moment and enjoy the birds in our “patch.”
We have had sweltering days with high humidity and afternoon storms for nearly a week. The birds are looking pretty bedraggled but they are active because there are lots of bugs. It’s not unusual to see a grosbeak or robin fluff up their feathers as they sit between showers.
Yesterday, I visited the local airport to do a little work on my Luscombe. As I approached the locked gate, I noticed a Chipping Sparrow fly up to a puddle in the tarmac. The dog and I waited as he went through a long routine of cleansing and cooling off. I grabbed a few photos.
Hey, this feels pretty goodI’m going for it.
That was awesome — let’s try that routine again. Those guys can wait.
The fog was just lifting this morning when the dog and I launched out on a wet birding adventure at the Sparrow Farm trail. I was looking for Bobolinks since I had yet to see one in the county this year — and no sooner had we left the truck when I heard and saw several in the large unmowed hayfield before us. They were fun to follow with the binoculars and were very actively flying, courting, and calling. Taking photos of them was a challenge: they were up and then back down in the grass before I could focus on them. They were pretty heavy for the wet stalks and sort of drooped down out of sight. Here’s one just to prove I was there.
I logged six into eBird but think that probably a dozen were there. It was encouraging to see, given their challenges due to the lack of grassland.
I also heard Wilson’s Snipes winnowing – something I had heard before there. Today, they were flying, high in the sky like remote controlled model planes, winnowing as they zoomed and dove. I tried some flight shots — what a joke? They were fast and quite a ways up there. Here are a couple of lame photos.
You’ll probably have to take my word that this is a high-flying snipe. It is an amazing flier,
I tried to get this one coming in for a landing. In retrospect, I probably should have tried the video option since they were calling the whole time.
We had a nice walk through the marshy area into the woods and picked up, by ear and site, about 28 other species. As we finished, the high pitched call of Cedar Waxwings alerted me to a couple just behind me on a low tree. Here’s one of them.
It’s hard to beat Cedar Waxwings for looks – they are cool characters.
And then, in a birding bonus, a young woodchuck posed for us. The dog was on her leash and never saw it — fortunately for my arm muscles.
“I know I’m just a rodent but I am pretty cute.”
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Five years ago, when I would kayak early in the morning, I’d strap on my iPod and crank workout tunes and paddle hard up and down the placid waters of our local Wrightsville Reservoir. I was sort of oblivious to my surroundings as I worked on technique and speed. That was before I was a birder.
Yesterday, I let the birds provide the music — and did they ever. I wore my binoculars, covered with a plastic bag, and carried my camera in a dry bag in the cockpit and set out on a quiet, fog-shrouded journey. Four Canada Geese came honking in and landed with a splash quite near me — we seemed to be the only critters on the water.
Heading north on the reservoir with the still air punctuated by the songs of Ovenbirds and White-throated Sparrows .
I’m not great at bird call identification but had dozens to chose from as I cruised along — I think I had 25 species in the first 15 minutes. Kayaks let you cruise up close to the shore and approach some birds rather closely. I was gliding toward a perched Belted Kingfisher for a photo but made the same mistake I can make on land: I moved too quickly raising the camera and spooked him.
Up ahead, a Common Merganser was feeding in the shallows. I approached her slowly, hardly paddling, and she seemed undisturbed, but just easing away from this big approaching object. Here’s a shot I took from the kayak.
It’s a tough life being a small migratory bird. Studies estimate that half of all adult Ovenbirds die each year. The oldest known Ovenbird was seven years old.
The North Branch River runs into the reservoir on the north end resulting in a short stretch of quiet water with narrow banks and overhanging trees. It was easy to cruise up to warblers and sparrows — I got some great looks at a Mourning Warbler.
Returning, I spooked two beavers out for an early sapling breakfast and approaching the takeout ramp, saw a gull that seemed out of place. It let me get pretty close so it was either used to people or not feeling well. I snapped a few shots and let it be.
A Ring-billed Gull on the shore, perhaps waiting for me to feed it.
It was a great paddle and I logged 35 species, getting a mild exercise session in while enjoying a perfect Vermont morning. It was the first, but won’t be the last, birding by kayak outing of the year. Nice way to multi-task.
Ovenbirds seem to thrive in our woods. Each morning, I hear six or more calling back and forth and sometimes, there seems to be even more. But to see them is another thing. They can be right next to you calling but if they don’t move, they blend with the forest floor and the low branches. I always am surprised at how small they are – given their loud voice. The other morning, two were courting or fighting, and not only did I get a good look, but one perched on a branch 10 feet away. Of course, it was on of the few dog walks were I left my camera home.
Yesterday morning, I got lucky. I saw a cooperative Ovenbird who sat still long enough for me to find him in the branches and take a couple of shots.
It’s a tough life being a small migratory bird. Studies estimate that half of all adult Ovenbirds die each year. The oldest known Ovenbird was seven years old.You can see just a bit of the orange crown bordered by black stripes.
The other fun fact from my perspective is that Ovenbirds are usually low – on the forest floor or low branches. They are great for birders, like this one, with a pinched neck nerve.
I have made and put out bird houses for the last three years, hoping to attract a pair of Eastern Bluebirds, but I have not even attracted a Tree Swallow. Zip.
This spring, I took down the houses I had scattered throughout our woods, cleaned them up and changed some fronts where red squirrels had gnawed the holes. I then mounted them in the open around my bee yard, hoping that the openness and light would make up for a few lost bees.
About two weeks ago, I spotted a House Wren checking out a couple of the boxes and bringing a twig to one of them. Then, nothing. Last week I checked the boxes and there was no activity in any of them. However, two days ago, I noticed a House Wren again checking one out, and as I watched, she brought all sorts and sizes of twigs to the box and proceeded to build a nest.
Some of her twig selections were on the optimistic side.“Is this more like it, oh critiquer?”“And by the way, that hole you cut isn’t round, ol’ wood butcher!”
So, Cornell lists the gestation period from 9 to 15 days. Hopefully in a week or so, we’ll have a hatch of little wrens. Of course, I’m bringing to new hives with about 60,000 bees to her front yard today. I suspect, if she’s on the nest, there’ll be no conflicts.
In the 13 years we have lived here, we’ve only had a few nests here and there that we knew about. We’ve never had one in a bird house. Hope springs eternal for a few new HOWR’s as neighbors in late May.
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