Keeping up with the Changes

Ah, early May -- the birder's favorite time of year, when there are lots of migrants returning or at least passing through, and the leaves are not yet out on the trees so one can actually see the birds without a lot of hunting! Today, without trying and with hardly going outside the house, I tallied 26 different species. Some of these are The Regulars, but that's still a pretty decent total.

We've had a good variety of warblers bopping around the trees on the edge of the yard, but even without full foliage there have been several that I've been unable to identify, simply because they dart around so much. But right around the house we've had Blackburnian, Black & White, Yellow-rumped, Chestnut-sided, Black-throated Green, Palm, and an American Redstart. If I include the area down by the river I can add Yellow Warbler and Common Yellowthroat to the count. I was particularly pleased to see the Redstart this morning. I note that the first one we saw at this house was on May 8, 2010. As Sally said when I pointed this out: "Punctual little sucker, ain't he?" Last year some Scarlet Tanagers had shown up by this time but I've not seen any yet this year. Yet.

All the colorful returnees that I reported on in my previous post are still around. The male Baltimore Oriole has been joined by a "first spring" female so, perhaps with a bit of luck, they'll decide to take up nest-keeping in the area. The Rose-breasted Grosbeaks are chasing each other around the yard and woods, presumably with amorous intent.

We were very pleased to hear our first thrush of the year singing yesterday morning as we retrieved the Sunday papers from the end of the drive. I think it was most likely a Hermit Thrush, like the one pictured in the header to this blog, but I'm not certain. After hearing it we promptly gave ourselves a refresher course in distinguishing thrush songs, but since then I've not heard him singing again to confirm his identity.

The downside of the seasonal change is that birds that were around all winter have now departed. I've not seen and Juncos for a couple of weeks now, and Red-breasted Nuthatches are likewise among the missing.

Tree sparrows are also becoming scarce, though I seem to recall that last year we had some around through the summer. On the other hand, a couple of White-crowned Sparrows were in the yard last Thursday, May 5, though I've not seen them since. I did manage to get a few photos of one, including one of him together with one of the many White-throateds we have so the differences between the two are easy to spot:

"See, I've got a pretty white throat..."

"...and you don't!"

There are three or four Gray Catbirds around, and are very active and very vocal! We had a pair or two nesting around here last year, and we hope they take up residence again. They seem to be hanging out in a brushy area on the northeast side of the house, which looks like textbook Catbird habitat to me! But what do I know. They're quite happy to help themselves to the orange halves that I put out for the Orioles:

They also love to feast on suet:

The Ruby-throated Hummingbirds are also still coming around, and I managed to get a couple of shots that are somewhat better than those in the previous post:

Blue Jays are with us all year, of course, but their numbers have gone up noticeably in the past week or two. I haven't bothered to count, but whereas there are usually three or four around, there's at least twice that many now. I fear that I've tended to overlook them in terms of photography, but they really are handsome birds and deserve to have their picture taken occasionally!

The local mammals are more active again, too. Chipmunks were largely absent through the winter, but have resumed their scampering around the yard, and have dug a few new holes in the lawn and under steps. Hmmmm.

Finally, right after hearing the thrush singing yesterday we noticed something large and furry in one of the small trees in the woods near the garage. "What the...????" Turns out it was a chunky porcupine, who gave the impression that he was sleeping off a bender from the night before:

 

 

His impressive, orange-colored incisors are clearly visible in the last photo if you click on the small image and pull up a larger copy. One has to wonder why he chose this particular tree in which to catch up on his beauty sleep. It seemed barely stout enough to hold him, and it didn't look particularly comfortable! But what do I know. He was largely unperturbed by the process of having his picture taken and remained asleep all the while. He finally sauntered off sometime while we were having breakfast, though I missed seeing him climb down.

There were many old apple trees on the farm where I grew up, including several right around the house. Once they began to bear fruit each year the trees were magnets for porcupines! The family dog would usually take exception to their presence, often resulting in an encounter in which the dog ended up with a nose full of quills. One of my older brothers remembers a cow getting quilled on at least one occasion, but that must have been before my time.

Porkys don't shoot their quills, as is sometimes believed. However, the quills are attached very loosely and are dislodged quite easily. Writing of the porky's ability to defend itself, Alfred J. Godin, in Wild Mammals of New England (1977) notes: "A cornered porcupine erects its quills, tucks its head between its front legs or under a protective object, turns its rear to the adversary, and rapidly swings its tail or makes a rolling lunge of the body." Given that porcupines' top forward speed is only around two miles per hour they clearly need some sort of defense mechanism.

Blast of Color!

On an otherwise a dreary, drizzly, chilly May morning here in southern Maine my day has been brightened enormously by the first-of-year appearance of a dazzling array of some of the most colorful birds we get in these parts. Rose-breasted Grosbeaks, Baltimore Orioles. Indigo Buntings, and Ruby-throated Hummingbirds have all shown up at the feeders today! I'd spotted a hummer or two yesterday, but today was the first time I've seen them coming to my feeders. I note that last year we had our first Orioles on May 10, along with Grosbeaks and Scarlet Tanagers. The Bunting didn't show up until May 11. No sign of Tanagers here yet this year. Last year at least one pair of Grosbeaks nested around here. I hope they do so again!

I've managed to get some halfway decent shots of all the new arrivals with the exception of the Bunting, who was around for only a brief time. Last year the one that was here tended to visit the feeders late in the afternoon, so perhaps this guy will re-appear at tea time.

Grosbeaks first:

There were three males and one female around this morning. This male in the photos below has a good deal of brown on his wings. The field guides that I've consulted indicate that this is a feature of the plumage of "first summer" males. I find myself confused by this term, at least in this case. To me the term would seem to indicate a bird that was hatched and fledged in the spring, and that would therefore be in its first summer in July and August of the year it was born. But here it is only May...so can I assume this guy was born last year and has yet to acquire full adult plumage?

 

Note that he also appears to have a touch of avian conjunctivitis, or some other eye disease.

The lone male Oriole that I've seen thus far got into a bit of a hassle with the Grosbeaks, fighting for space at the seed feeders:

 
He then moved to the suet feeder, where he had to compete with a Downy Woodpecker:

I do have some orange halves out specifically for Orioles, but so far this guy has not discovered them.

Both male and female Ruby-throated Hummingbirds have been around. I managed a few shots of each, though the male was always just out of the plane of focus, so there's a bit of dog-walking-on-its-hind-legs aspect to these:

 

 

The female was a bit more obliging about posing for me:

Between these newcomers and the Usual Suspects such as Cardinals, Goldfinches, Blue Jays, Purple Finches, and three kinds of Woodpeckers, my yard was quite the colorful spot this morning! There was generally a lot of avian activity, with numerous White-throated and Chipping Sparrows, Chickadees, and Titmice visiting the feeders and scratching around on the lawn and in leaf clutter on the edge of the woods. Things have quieted down since it began to rain a bit, but it was fun to see things really hopping for awhile. A Black-and-white Warbler in the trees on the side of the house was just icing on the cake!

As always, click on the images to see larger copies of them.

The Peeper through the Meadow Straying

Nothing says "Spring" to me quite as much as the sounds of peepers singing away in a pond or marsh. On the farm where I grew up in western Massachusetts, there was a big hayfield of maybe 15 acres just above the barn and farm house. There was a perennially boggy area along the upper edge of this field and every spring evening we'd be serenaded by the chorus of the hundreds of small frogs that inhabited it. The appearance of the peepers usually coincided with the end of sugaring season, and preceded the return of the Barn Swallows by a week or two. There's a saying that peepers will freeze back in three times before spring officially arrives. I've never actually tracked this to see how true it is, but it's certainly the case that New Englanders are usually in for one or more cold spells even after the frogs make their seasonal debut.

The sounds of peepers singing were one of the things that I missed most about spring during the dozen or more years I lived in Los Angeles, and the 25 years that I lived in Tennessee. Not that Tennessee doesn't have its share of peepers [dunno about Southern California], it's just that I was living in town, away from any wetlands.When I moved to Maine in April of last year I was absolutely delighted the first time I went out on our porch on a warm evening and the air was filled with the marvelous music of a multitude of tiny amphibians, singing their little hearts out in the marshy area down by the river. Yes!

I don't have to tell my fellow Mainers that spring has been late in coming this year. We've had a long string of chilly nights, but I finally heard peepers for the first time this year the night of April 18. A couple of nights later, when it was enough warmer to inspire a larger group of frogs to raise their voices in peep, I went down by the river, flashlight in hand, and recorded a few clips of their efforts on my iPhone. By running one of the resulting files through my audio editing program a few times I was able to boost the level sufficiently to make it fit for public consumption. Thus, I give you 38 seconds of  Eine Kleine Froschmusik:

  

Bliss.

Peepers are, however, much more readily heard than seen. Not only are they tiny, and do most of their singing after the sun has gone down, but they're shy little buggers that tend to shut up if one gets too close. I honestly don't think I've ever seen one in action, and I recall my father--who lived virtually all of his 89 years on the same farm and who loved hearing the peepers singing as much as anyone--saying that he'd never actually seen them either. Well now. 

Therefore, I have set myself the goal of not only seeing some peepers this year, but photographing them as well. To this end I've made a couple of forays into our woods late in the afternoon, early enough that there was still some daylight, but late enough that a few of the more assertive members of Amphibians Anonymous had begun warming up for the main concert later in the evening. So far I've not gotten even close to seeing any, much less taking their pictures. 

Yesterday afternoon I went for a walk on Kennebunk Plains, a managed area that's only a couple of miles from the house. I walked across the open area and down through the woods a bit to a small pond that we've been to numerous times. I got there shortly after 5:00 p.m., at which time there was already a pretty enthusiastic chorus performing. The pond is a man-made one, with a dam across the small brook that feeds the pond. Upstream from the dam a bit is a marshy area, and this is where the frogs were holding forth.

By walking gingerly on top of countless tufts of marsh grass, I managed to get fairly close to frog central but, of course, as soon as I got near a spot where some had been singing, they shut up. And didn't re-start for the 10-15 minutes that I stood there. When I finally decided to give up and head back to dry ground I had a big "Oh sh*t" moment--looking back in the direction from whence I had come, I had no idea what route I'd actually taken through the bog to get there! Ah well...nothing for it but to sally forth and try to pick my dry spots again...which I more or less managed to do. More or less.

Fortunately, the frogs weren't the only creatures of interest there--and I'm finally getting to some bird content here!--as there was also a pair of Mallards, a pair of Canada Geese that appear to be nesting on the pond, and a nice Belted Kingfisher whose efforts to secure dinner I'm afraid I interrupted just by showing up.

The big treat, though, was watching a Palm Warbler flitting around in some bushes on the shore of the pond. I took a bunch of pictures of him, but the conditions were lousy for trying to get him in focus. I think I've hit on a new law of nature: songbirds--especially warblers--maintain their position for exactly a fraction of a second less time than it takes to focus binoculars or camera on them. Really. Their timing is uncanny! Nevertheless, out of the 25 or so shots I took I managed to get a few that are worth sharing:

Lovely little guy! I should mention that earlier in the day a Palm or two had shown up in the trees outside the house, along with two or three Yellow-rumps. So the warbler drought that I whined about yesterday seems to be over, or has at least abated somewhat.

After I left the pond and returned to the flat, open area of the Plains, the first thing I saw was a handsome Northern Harrier gliding low over the ground. An Eastern Meadowlark--my first of year--was singing lustily atop one of the many small pines that are scattered across the landscape. I heard some ruckus behind me and turned to see a couple of crows harassing a large raptor who was flying over the woods. I couldn't get a good look at the hawk because of the strong back-lighting, but judging from the size and configuration, I'm reasonably sure it was a Northern Goshawk. A female American Kestrel was also working the fields. I saw her hover numerous times, but never witnessed her making any attempts to catch something.

Not a bad afternoon outing. As for seeing, and photographing, some peepers, my quest continues. Watch this space for breaking news.

Incidentally, if anyone's wondering about the title of this post, this link may help. Not one of my favorite tunes--I like the title better than the tune itself--and I'm not enamored of this performance, but so be it.

The Changing of the Sparrows and other Markers of the Season

The huge piles of winter snow have now vanished, and though our weather here in southern Maine is still pretty chilly, Spring has, in fact, sprung. More or less. This means, of course, that migration season is underway; the Maine birds e-mail list is buzzing with reports of first-of-year this and first-of-year that. I'm experiencing a bit of warbler envy as very few of the colorful, peripatetic little critters have yet shown up in my trees, though others around the state are reporting Palms and Pines and such. It's not a total warbler wasteland around here--I spotted a Palm in the brush along the driveway yesterday and as I write this I've been distracted by a male Yellow-rump that's been bopping around the trees outside my office window. I imagine that more will show up in due time. There have been numerous other seasonal returnees, and even a couple of new yard birds, to keep things interesting.

I'm especially happy to have White-throated Sparrows back with us. I noted the first one of the year on April 12, and he or she was soon joined by others. They were around for a few days before I heard any of them singing, but now the welcome sounds of "George Peabody, Peabody, Peabody" have been added to the mix of songs that accompany me as I go out to retrieve the papers of a morning.

 

Their cousins the Chipping Sparrows have returned as well; I noted the first one in the yard on April 16. I find it to be a bit of a challenge sometimes to distinguish Chippies from the Tree Sparrows that have been with us through the winter, and that seem to be year-round residents here. Although Chippies have a distinctly white eye stripe and the Trees have a gray one, in certain light and at certain distances I often have to resort to binoculars to be sure which species it is that I'm seeing.

Chipping Sparrow with female Goldfinch

The female Goldfinch in the photo is just one of many that are still around. The males have almost, but not quite, finished making their transformation from their muted winter colors to the spectacular yellow of summer, and are bringing some welcome zing to our feeders.

Regrettably, pretty much coincidental with the arrival of the White-throats and the Chippies was the departure of the Fox Sparrows that graced us with their presence through late March and early April. I noted a high count of five on April 6, but that was almost the last time I saw any. It was always a treat to look out and see them scratching on the ground, looking for something good to eat. We hope they found enough to their liking that they'll return next year!

 

I'm delighted, if a bit surprised, to note that Juncos are still around in abundance. I'm still learning the rhythms of the seasons here in Maine, but it's unlikely that the "Junkets" will be with much longer. I noted their arrival last October and they have delighted us all winter. We'll enjoy their presence as long as they care to stick around!

We've had a few Purple Finches around since April 19. There quite a few here in late summer and early fall last year, and I'm happy to see some back with us.

 

Back in January I noted the presence of a Brown Creeper in the yard. I was pleased that we had at least two around all winter, often joining the Downy Woodpeckers and others at our suet feeders. I've not seen them much recently, but was happy to see one yesterday, April 25.

Downy Woodpecker and Brown Creeper

Flickers have been back for several weeks now, though they're skittish enough that I've not been able to get any photos of them. I was extremely pleased to see a Yellow-bellied Sapsucker here on April 5--a new yard bird for us here!

I've not seen her too often, so perhaps she's moved on through. I'd like to think that she'll find a partner--if she doesn't already have one--and set up housekeeping in our woods. We get occasional looks at a pair of her big cousins, the Pileateds, so together with the Downies, Hairies, and Flickers our woodpecker count is pretty good.

The other new yard bird that made a brief appearance was a Ruffed Grouse that sauntered across the end of the driveway late in the afternoon of April 20--too far away to get any meaningful photos!

I made a few of the embedded images somewhat larger in this post than I have in the past but, as always, click on them to see larger copies. 

"Please....can't you see I'm in the middle of changing?"

In my previous post I noted that the male Goldfinches were in the process of transforming from their subdued winter plumage into their brilliant yellow of summer. It's fun to watch them get a little bit brighter every day. 

I managed to catch a few pix of a couple of guys on one of our feeders, looking quite mottled:

Surely not looking at their best in this awkward in-between stage but, hey, it's what they've gotta go through to regain their flash, right? 

I'm also happy to note that the Fox Sparrows are still around. We now have at least four. I couldn't resist snapping a few more pix of one today:

 

The second one is a tad blurry, as I caught him/her in the middle of doing the Fox Sparrow Two-Step; i.e., their characteristic two-footed scrape in search of some edible morsel. 

As always, click on the small images to bring up larger copies.

Another surprise snowfall

Although I didn't believe it when I got up this morning, the snow that had been predicted began falling in the early afternoon. And has been coming down pretty steadily ever since. It's sticking, but since the ground had thawed pretty thoroughly the snow has not accumulated as much as might be expected.

The snow certainly brought the birds to the feeders! They'd been pretty active in the morning even before the snow began, but things got really busy once the white stuff appeared. Juncos and Goldfinches were out in big numbers. Doing an accurate count was pretty much impossible, since there were flocks of varying sizes on all three sides of the house where we have feeders. And, of course, when perhaps six or eight were readily apparent, any movement that startled them, such as opening the front door, would result in a flock of many times that number taking off for the trees. I suspect there were easily 35-50 Juncos around, and perhaps as many Goldfinches. Males of the latter are getting more and more mottled every day, as they move through the process of changing their drab--but still lovely--winter plumage for the brilliant yellow of summer.

A small group of Common Redpolls is still around; I've seen a half-dozen or so. I'm delighted that not only are the Fox Sparrows still around, but now there are at least four individuals here. This is good. Song Sparrows seem to be becoming more numerous as well.

Although areas that had only just become clear have a layer of snow on them once again, the ground feeders seem to be able to scratch their way through to find food. And tomorrow we're supposed to get back to temperatures in the 40s, so the new snow cover will probably disappear as quickly as it came.

On related nature notes, the local mammals are also making their presence known. Raccoons have recently become active again. During the summer and fall we had to bring several of the feeders in every night lest the masked bandits help themselves to the seed and suet. Once winter came we no longer had to go through that ritual but, alas, it's become necessary to do so again. I know they have to eat, too, but I'm unwilling to provide them with a cake or two of suet every night! Chipmunks have also re-appeared, and the wood mice have resumed their efforts to nest in our gas grille. The battle is on!

Fox Sparrows

I noted back in November that we had our first Fox Sparrow in the yard, and that it was at that time a new life bird for me. Sally wasn't fortunate enough to see it, so we were thrilled when one appeared again this week. I noted again yesterday that we had two Foxes among our feeder visitors, though I realize now that I did not give their re-appearance sufficient fanfare! A single one had actually appeared a day or so earlier, but yesterday was the first time we'd seen two. Today they were joined by a third bird! I hope they stick around for a bit, though range maps show them as migratory in this area; they summer in far northern climes.

Today I managed to get a few halfway decent photos:

 

They certainly are handsome little guys! They're noticeably larger than most sparrows. Here's a shot of a Foxy with a Dark-eyed Junco, a female American Goldfinch, and an American Tree Sparrow for size comparison:

As always, click on the small images to see larger versions. 

By the way...that snow we had yesterday? It's all gone now, along with more of the winter's accumulation. But more is supposed to be on the way for tomorrow!

Quick p.s.

Add first-of-year Robins [at least four] and Northern Flicker [a singleton] to the day's species tally.

Surprise Snow Causes Spike in Feeder Traffic, though New Arrivals Give Hope for Spring

After a week or more of extremely mild weather--it got to nearly 70 yesterday--in which much of the accumulated snow had melted away, we were surprised to wake up this morning to see the all the trees covered in new snow and a lot still coming down. The temperature was just on the high side of the freezing point, so the snow was coming down in big, wet flakes. Even though the ground had thawed out rather thoroughly, the new stuff was sticking to the ground. It's now about 10:30 a.m.and the snow has nearly stopped, and what had been on the trees is beginning to fall off. Maine Public Broadcasting is, unaccountably, still saying "sunny and warm" for most of the state, including the southern end. Go figure.

The birds also seem to have been caught off-guard. After a period of relatively little traffic at the feeders due, no doubt, to the increased ability to find food in areas newly-free of snow, we've enjoyed a spate of activity this morning. Dark-eyed Juncos have been around all winter, of course, but today there's a largish flock around; I estimate it at ~30 birds. It's always a treat to see these gorgeous little guys with their dark gray plumage, and it's a bit saddening to realize that they will probably soon be leaving us for the season.

Another highlight has been the appearance of the first Red-winged Blackbirds and Grackles of the season. We've had 4-5 each in a mixed flock. Very odd to be standing outside in the snowfall and hearing the "Ok-a-lee" song of the Red-Wings! 

Goldfinches are also around in good numbers this morning. This is the time of year when the males begin to acquire their bright yellow summer plumage, so we're seeing birds in all sorts of in-between stages. Some have already achieved a fair degree of "yellow-ness" but most are quite mottled, with bits of yellow here and there on their bodies.

The Red-wings aren't the only birds singing in the snow. The Goldfinches are tittering away and the Chickadees are giving forth with their "fee-bee" call. As we went out to collect the morning papers our semi-resident male Northern Cardinal was announcing his presence with authority, with what my son dubbed many years ago as his "laser" call. 

We've been pleasantly surprised to see a couple of Common Redpolls still around, as most of them seem to have departed for more northerly climes. 

All in all we've tallied 17 species. In addition to those I've already noted we've seen both White- and Red-breasted Nuthatches; Fox, Tree and Song Sparrows; Hairy and Downy Woodpeckers; Crows; Tufted Titmice; Mourning Doves; Blue Jays; and a lone House Finch. Most of these have been around all winter, but the first Fox Sparrow appeared this week and today has been joined by a second one.

NOTE: For various reasons I've fallen way behind in things I want to post to this blog. I'll try to catch up this week. Among other things I'm exploring ways to post better-quality videos; I apologize for the crappy way the ones that I've put up so far appear by the time they get compressed and uploaded here.

Redpolls Revisited

In yesterday's post I neglected to mention that we were not the only ones in southern Maine to get their first visit from Redpolls this past Sunday [Feb. 20]. Soon after our flock arrived I went online to report the influx on the Maine birds e-mail list. When I logged into my e-mail I was amused to see several other reports from elsewhere in southern Maine: Cape Neddick, Sanford, Freeport, and Scarborough. A few other reports from the area came in after mine. I've seen no hypotheses about why all of a sudden the birds began to show up in more southerly locations than they had earlier in the winter but I suppose it has to do with weather and availability of food.

We still have them around the yard, and they're definitely providing some competition for the Usual Suspects at the feeders. I managed to get some better video footage of them today, though not yet of the flock in anything like its entirety. I used this opportunity to learn a bit more about video editing, and even got a bit silly about it all! Hey, a guy's gotta have fun, eh?

The Redpolls are Coming! The Redpolls are Coming!

Up until yesterday it seemed as though we were the only birders in the state of Maine whose yard had not been visited by large flocks of Redpolls. These members of the finch family are denizens of the far north; their idea of going south for the winter means migrating to Maine and elsewhere in the northern tier of the U.S. I only saw my first Redpolls in February of 2009 when large flocks came to our feeders. This was before we were living here full-time, so we were just lucky that their visit coincided with our own. From the reports of other birders it seems that Redpolls tend to appear in these parts every other year.

There are two species: Common and Hoary, though they are very difficult to tell apart, and some ornithologists regard them as a single species consisting of two subspecies. The two species--if such they are--travel in mixed flocks, and in 2009 there were quite definitely some Hoarys in with the Commons. The ones that have showed up this year seem to be all Commons, but I wouldn't put money on it.

When I first noticed them yesterday there was a large flock of ~50 birds on the northeast side of the yard, where we have several feeders. As soon as I opened an upstairs window to try to shoot some photos or video, they all took off; in spite trying to move carefully, the window made a "pop" when I first opened it and that was enough to spook the little guys. Some eventually came back, but never in the numbers that I had first seen, or at least not at any time when I was poised to shoot! I did manage to capture quite a bit of footage, but it's only so-so, both in terms of interest and technical quality. I've edited together about 40 seconds of it. This was shot with my still camera, and by the time I edited and saved it to Windows Media format, it's ended up fairly grainy. It's best viewed at the small size rather than full-screen:

Edward Howe Forbush writes of Redpolls: 

They come with the snowflakes out of the dun sky of November and leave as spring approaches...The feeding flocks may be startled by any sudden noise or violent movement. Then they rise and wheel in concert, but after going through their usual evolutions they may return to the very place from which they took flight...The food of the Redpolls while with us consists largely of the seeds of birches and alders and those of common grasses and weeds. At feeding stations they eat greedily the seeds of sunflowers, millet and hemp, also hayseed and rolled oats.

They certainly can be piggy little things, and compete quite assertively with the Chickadees, Goldfinches, and Titmice that are the regulars at our feeders. In any case, they are welcome visitors, and the video clip captures a bit of their peripatetic nature and the way in which even a small flock can seem to swarm over a yard.

Harbinger of Spring?

We enjoyed a bit of a thaw here in southern Maine this past week. Temps well into the 50s on Thursday and Friday caused much of the snow and ice to disappear. Up until that time, though, we'd had a lot of very cold weather, and winter was really starting to close in on everyone. My driveway had become a treacherous, icy mess, and trips to retrieve the morning papers and the mail had become adventures in testing my skill at remaining upright.

Therefore, it was a huge--but very welcome!--surprise when I went out to get the papers Wednesday morning [Feb. 16] when it was, at best, 20 degrees, and I was treated to the sounds of several Tufted Titmice singing away, lustily crying "Peter, Peter, Peter" for all they were worth. I had my iPhone with me and, using the Voice Memo feature, recorded the little guys as they engaged in their vocal sparring. The resulting recording was, of course, pretty faint, but by transferring the file to my computer and running it through my audio program several times, I was able to boost the level enough to make it quite clear:

Tufted Titmice 2011-02-16

Two birds in particular were having quite the discussion about which one had the right to be where, but there are at least three individuals audible here.

At the time, Spring and the attendant return of birdsong to our woods seemed like a distant promise. But perhaps the Titmice sensed that we were about to enjoy a bit of a break--albeit a short-lived one--from the deep chill.

CSI West Kennebunk

A couple of weeks ago I wrote about finding evidence of a large bird having landed near some of our feeders and wondered if a hawk was haunting the area. These suspicious were confirmed last weekend. 

Around noon on Sunday, January 23, I looked out a second-floor window onto the feeding area and saw more marks made by large wing feathers in the snowbank; they're barely discernible in lower center right of this shot [click on it to bring up a larger copy of the image]:

Here's a close-up shot, taken from ground level:

Once I got a good look at the wing marks I began searching for further evidence. There was nothing right there under this feeder, but back up on the path  in front of the house there was plenty of it--lots of feathers in the path and in the snow banks:

There was one largish feather sticking out of the snow in a bank near the house:

I dug around it a bit and quickly uncovered a small trove of others:

Judging from the color, and the spots on some of them, I think the victim was most likely a Mourning Dove. Of which there are plenty around here. The photo on the Cornell site shows feather spots like quite clearly.

I kept looking around for more evidence and noted an odd depression in the snow on the opposite side of the path, on the lawn. I trudged through the knee-deep snow to get a better look and was rewarded by finding a very clear imprint of a large bird:

 

He or she came down facing the house, and had probably approached from one of the trees in the middle of the front lawn. I didn't think to measure the print but the most likely culprit was a Cooper's Hawk. It was definitely much larger bird than a Sharp-shinned Hawk like the one that crashed into the house in late December.

After gathering what evidence I could I made mental plans to do a blog post about what I'd found, but before I had the chance to do so the hawk struck again! On Wednesday afternoon, about 3:15, I again looked out at the feeder area from the upstairs window--I check the area frequently to see what visitors we're hosting--and saw what looked like a couple of feathers underneath the large bottle feeder. I went out to investigate, and, sure enough, it was a small tuft of feathers, this time with a bit of bloody flesh attached. These had a reddish tinge to them, so I suspect that a female Northern Cardinal was the victim this time. 

I again walked back towards the front of the house and again found the marks of large wings in the snowbank. [NOTE: The late-afternoon light was very poor for taking pictures so I've cranked up the contrast in this and the following shots to exaggerated, grossly unnatural levels in order to bring out the detail.]:

I went back in the house, thinking that I'd seen all that was to be seen, but when I looked out a second-story window at the front of the house I was surprised to again see a strange imprint in the snow. I went back out, camera in hand, and again trudged through the deep snow to get a better look. There, not ten feet from where the earlier imprint had been, and in much the same orientation, was clear evidence of another crash-landing by a large bird:

I don't quite know how to interpret the marks up near where the head was; it almost looks as though a Pterodactyl was here! The bird must have been thrashing around and those marks are tracks left by its beak.

This time I had the presence of mind to bring out a tape measure in order to give some sense of scale:

Again, click on the images to bring up a larger copies and to make the numbers on the tape readable. The spot where I placed the end of the tape was probably not where the top of the bird's head actually was, so the reading of 24" is probably too long. The Sibley guide gives 16.5" as the average length of a Cooper's Hawk; the Cornell site gives 14.6-15.4" as the average length for a male and 16.5-17.7" for a female -- females of most raptor species are generally larger than the males. If my bird really was nearly 2' long from stem to stern, that would suggest a Northern Goshawk. Not impossible, but Goshawks are birds of the deep woods. Unless and until I actually get a good look at our local predator, I'm going to assume that it's most likely a female Cooper's Hawk.

Since finding the second set of evidence I've been more vigilant about monitoring activity outside the house. So far there's been no further sign of the hawk. Thinking back, however, I recall that on the day before the second kill I'd noted some odd behavior from a male Hairy Woodpecker. Hairys are a nearly-constant presence at our suet, so it was not at all surprising to see one clinging to the tree just under one of the suet feeders. What was surprising was that when I checked again, several minutes later, he was still there, in nearly the same spot. I made subsequent checks over the course of several minutes, and though he moved a bit, he never got far from the position in which I first saw him. It was almost as if he was frozen to the tree. I finally went out to check on him, thinking there might be something wrong with him, but upon my approach he flew away very quickly. I wonder now if the "frozen" bird was adopting that posture to avoid being spotted by a hawk?