The Red-shouldered Hawk

It wouldn’t seem quite like winter without the hawks and falcons hunting along fencerows, darting through the woods, or soaring on the breezes. I have been seeing a number of raptor species over the last few months, including the swift and agile Cooper’s Hawks, the slower but more powerful Red-tailed Hawks, and the wary and fidgety American Kestrels.  Another common species, large and vocal, but sometimes overlooked, is the Red-shouldered Hawk.

Unlike Red-tailed Hawks, Red-shouldered Hawks tend to prefer low-lying, heavily wooded environments. They are commonly found year-round in many hardwood and mixed forests throughout southeastern North America, and, in the fall and winter, this southeastern population is boosted by migrants from the northeastern United States and southeastern Canada. The difference in habitat between Red-shouldered and Red-tailed Hawks means that their dietary preferences are a bit different, as well; like Red-tails, Red-shouldereds eat lots of small mammals, but, because they inhabit denser, swampier woods, they’re also likely to catch frogs, snakes, and lizards. However, even though they’re primarily forest hawks rather than field hawks, they will often hunt from powerlines and prominent snags at the borders of woodlands and fields. Presumably, this makes it easier for them to find and catch their prey, given that they lack the maneuverability of species such as the Cooper’s and Sharp-shinned Hawks.

Appearance-wise, Red-shouldered Hawks are a little smaller and slimmer than Red-tailed Hawks, and, of course, they lack the brick-red tails that adult Red-tails have. They DO have reddish-brown “shoulders,” but this usually isn’t the most obvious field mark. The barred, reddish-brown breasts, black-and-white banded tails, and black-and-white wings on the adult hawks are far more noticeable features in the field. As you can see in the first of the two photos below, there are also vertical breast streaks on top of the chestnut-colored horizontal barring. Juvenile Red-shouldered Hawks look fairly similar to the adults, but have drabber, browner feathers and lack reddish barring on their breasts. In flight, both adults and juveniles show “wing windows,” which are essentially just pale crescents near the wingtips. This is a great field mark to look for if a hawk is soaring overhead. 

The rusty breast feathers on this adult hawk are a useful field mark.

Juveniles have browner plumage and streaks on their breasts.

Crescent-shaped wing markings are visible on this soaring adult hawk.

At this time of year, the immature hawks have been independent from their parents for several months, so they’re essentially competing with adult hawks for food and territory. If they survive the winter and later become breeding adults, then they will likely build their nests in large trees in the woods and lay two to five eggs per brood, with only one brood per season. Apparently, little is known about Red-shouldered Hawk nesting habits, so if you happen to spot a breeding pair next year, there is a chance that your observations could be of significant scientific value! In the meantime, enjoy watching Red-shouldered Hawks and other raptors this winter. 

Source:

Dykstra, C. R., J. L. Hays, and S. T. Crocoll (2020). Red-shouldered Hawk (Buteo lineatus), version 1.0. In Birds of the World (A. F. Poole, Editor). Cornell Lab of Ornithology, Ithaca, NY, USA. https://doi.org/10.2173/bow.reshaw.01

 

Blast from the Past: Gulf Coast Edition

I recently came across this piece of mine from nearly two decades ago.  Interesting how the coast has changed since then!

It has been something of a tradition among my mom, sisters and me to spend a few days each year on vacation on the Alabama gulf coast.  Due to the severe hurricane damages it sustained over the past couple of years, however, we chose not to attempt this custom again for a while.  This year, though, we received feedback from some relatives of ours (who had actually camped in Gulf Shores State Park a few months after Katrina and the flooding that it brought with it) on the actual condition of the area, and because the news seemed pretty good, we decided last month to get a hotel room and spend some time enjoying --- if nothing else --- the gorgeous beaches.  I naturally also wanted to see to what extent the region’s ecosystems had been altered by the storms.  Fortunately, although there were places that still seemed barren and deserted, stripped somewhat of their distinctive character, the experience in general was very pleasant and indicative of nature’s resilience.

One of the first differences we noticed as we made our way around the Gulf Shores/Orange Beach area was the greatly reduced number of buildings and tourist attractions near the beach (in a way, not really a bad thing).  The absence of familiar landmarks was oddly unsettling, though; you’re so accustomed to seeing them as a tourist that you hardly notice them, and when they’re gone, you know that the landscape seems bereft of something, but exactly what it is you can’t tell immediately.  It takes a while for the feeling to sink in.  One thing we did easily notice, however, was that the sand dunes were practically gone --- they were in the process of being built up again, a job that nature will have to finish.  Park Service experts had heroically planted back the sea oats and other plants along many sections of shoreline, in an effort to accelerate the recovery.  In our frequent excursions to the beaches, I didn’t notice a major difference in the numbers of birds inhabiting the area.  Ruddy Turnstones and cryptically-colored Sanderlings skittered around at the edges of the waves, with the larger Willet occasionally showing up to utilize the deeper waters.  There were Least Terns by the dozens, diving in midair and slicing through the water to come back up with silvery fish in their beaks.  Actually, the fish were far from the only live creatures we saw in the waves --- this is where conditions seemed a little different from the other times we spent on the coast; coquinas (the little rainbow-hued clamlike mollusks) were everywhere, but there were also augers (sharp cone-shaped mollusks) and olives that were alive and burrowing into the wet sand.  My sister Deanna even discovered a hermit crab in a shell she picked up from the waves, thinking it was empty.  We all saw other sorts of crabs as we waded in the shallows, but thankfully no jellyfish.  I’m not sure whether these animals were evident simply because we were more observant this time, but I don’t remember seeing this many live seashore creatures during any of our other coastal trips, and I suspect that they may have had more opportunity (i.e., fewer human developments) to re-colonize.

Sanderlings

As far as seashore birds go, the gatherings of Brown Pelicans and Laughing Gulls, with small groups of Black Skimmers, Royal Terns, and the occasional Osprey didn’t appear diminished.  The shore may have taken a hard hit, but the swaths of coastal scrub farther inland were damaged more severely.  Most of the trees fared pretty well, I guess, with some inevitable wind and salt damage to the weaker ones such as the pines (the ancient Live Oaks were fine), but the change that made the whole area look like a dead zone was the understory of shrubs, a gray, water-damaged, skeleton-like mass stretching as far as we could see.  It might have just been our heightened discernment of changes here, but the numbers of forest birds seemed down.  On the other hand, a few woodpeckers were busy at work on some of the damaged wood, so the devastation clearly wasn’t detrimental to everyone.  A change that was upsetting to us was the state park, bereft of shade with the absence of most of the trees, and the areas between campsites open and bare of shrubbery.  We’ve spent several vacations in this park, and one of the things we most enjoyed about it was the pleasant shade and privacy afforded by the thick vegetation it once had, but in the long run these changes are probably not really a big deal.

We decided on our second day in at the coast to go on a chartered sailboat ride, something we’d never done before but figured would be enjoyable.  After making our reservations, we traveled to the boat dock, met our captain, and finally set off with a good-sized group of other like-minded people in the comfortable sailboat.  The weather was great, and the boat went smoothly with the motion of the waves out on the bay.  Pelicans soared in and landed on the water, gulls flew past on the breezes, and at several times during the expedition, pods of dolphins surfaced, some of the animals making brief leaps over the waves.  As I stood looking over the rail of the boat, watching the calmly rolling bay waters and listening to the calls of gulls in the distance, I thought that this was a most fitting way to stop and reflect on the recent changes on the gulf coast --- in the midst of this ecosystem that seems the most changeable of all, but in some ways is the most stable, as it constantly refreshes and renews itself.  In the same way, the natural environments of the gulf coast can and will refresh themselves in their own way and time, if we just allow them the opportunity.

Coastal Woodlands

Beaches, bays, and marshes come to mind most readily when I think about coastal environments.  But the Gulf Coast also boasts a variety of wooded landscapes that provide crucial habitat for many animals and serve as buffers against storms.  In the photo below, a Great Egret fishes along a wooded coastal creek in late December.  One consequence of the moist, warm regional climate is that many woodlands tend to stay green and blooming well into the fall and winter.

Great Egret (Ardea alba)

I love the diversity of these coastal forests.  The canopy trees may be hardwoods like black gum, water oak, or live oak; pine species; or a mixture of both.  Several of these trees, like the water oak, can be found across much of the southeastern U.S., while others, such as the southern live oak, are highly representative of coastal ecosystems.

Slash pine (Pinus elliottii) is a common, fire-resistant tree in coastal woodlands.  Note also its broad patches of bark.

Water oaks (Quercus nigra) typically have smaller leaves, but these saplings were growing in to the understory, and therefore needed more leaf surface area to capture sunlight.

This is a typically enormous live oak (Quercus virginiana).  These trees grow rapidly in the first few decades of life.

The understory trees and shrubs of coastal woods are particularly interesting, since they tend to bear obvious adaptations to the ever-changing environment.  For example, there are a number of species that are evergreen and have waxy leaves: features that help to prevent desiccation and protect against the fires that were once natural, expected occurrences on the coast.  In more recent decades, prescribed burning has aided in forest recovery.

Swamp bay and wax myrtle are two of these common evergreen coastal trees (or shrubs, depending on their growth pattern).  Both species produce provide cover for animals during the winter, and their flowers and fruits can attract many birds and other wildlife.  The wax myrtle’s leaves are smoother and have wavier margins than those of the swamp bay.

Swamp bay (Persea palustris)

Wax myrtle (Morella cerifera)

A little farther inland, mountain laurel is often a surprisingly common understory plant.  It usually grows in montane forests in the northerly portions of its range, but it may be found in low-lying areas in the coastal region.  Like the swamp bay and the wax myrtle, it has thick, waxy, evergreen leaves.  While birds and insects may enjoy feeding from its flowers, it is highly toxic to most other animals.

Mountain laurel (Kalmia latifolia)

Of course, not all understory plants of the Gulf Coast have a typical tree-like growth form.  The dramatically spiky, waving fronds of the saw palmetto give panache to the forest floor.  Like other palm species, saw palmettos stay green all year.  Their berries provide food for a multitude of wildlife species.

Saw palmetto (Serenoa repens)

 

What of the non-shrub understory plants of these coastal woods?  Well, switch cane is one of the most noticeable.  This is especially true during the winter, when many of the herbaceous—or non-woody—plants have died back, and only the toughest of them, the graminoids—a group that includes grasses and sedges—are left to provide groundcover.  Canes and bamboos actually belong to the grass family, which isn’t surprising when you consider their shape and growth habits.  Being a native bamboo, switch cane commonly grows in low-lying, swampy habitats.  In other words, don’t necessarily expect to find it in urban areas!  Of course, if it does happen to be growing there, leave it be.  Native plants deserve a chance to thrive.  

Switch cane (Arundinaria tecta)

As always, there are countless other plant species that you may find in these coastal woods.  The colder seasons along the coast don’t always look the way that you might expect, and there is generally a lot of greenery in the woods.  As the season eventually shifts into early spring, however, watch for changes—particularly the proliferation of herbaceous plants along the ground and the blossoming of some of the trees and shrubs in the other forest layers.  It’s always nice to have an excuse to duck into a comparatively cool, shady woodland after a long walk at the beach on a sunny day!

Species Account: The Northern Flicker

A shrill ki-ki-ki-ki-ki-ki breaks the silence of the forest, and a pair of fairly large brown birds with flashes of yellow in their wings and tails alight upon a decaying stump and begin picking off little flakes of bark.

With its flashy colors and raucous calls, the Northern Flicker is a difficult bird to miss.  It is a permanent resident of the Southeast and can be found in a variety of habitats where deadwood is present.  Flickers often forage on the ground in search of ants and beetle larvae.  In my own yard I can sometimes see as many as six at a time, poking their bills into the dry, dead grass in search of these insects.  Flickers also feed on small fruits and will come to feeders for suet or peanuts.

At twelve and a half inches from the tip of the bill to the tip of the tail, the Northern Flicker is the second-largest woodpecker in Mississippi.  It has black bars on its brown upper parts and spots on the under parts.  A patch of gray extends from the crown to the nape, and the male bird has a black stripe on its face.  Both sexes have bright red bars on the backs of their heads.  The white rump patch and yellow underwings are conspicuous when the birds are in flight.

Northern Flickers have a variety of calls for different situations.  A short peeough is used as a contact call between related flickers.  The ki-ki-ki-ki-ki is a territory advertisement, and the flicka-flicka-flicka-flicka for which the bird was named is used during courtship and aggressive encounters.  These two longer calls can be confused with the calls of the crow-sized Pileated Woodpecker, but, unlike the calls of this huge bird, they do not change in pitch or loudness.  Flickers drum often, sometimes choosing to do so on tin roofs at the crack of dawn, creating a great disturbance to anyone inside the house.

Nesting occurs in spring when a pair of flickers excavate a hole in a tree, a fence post, a utility pole or a nest box.  Flicker boxes should be 16 inches tall with a 7x7-inch floor and a hole two and a half inches in diameter.  The box should be at least four feet above the ground and should preferably be filled with sawdust so that the birds can partially satisfy their desire to excavate a cavity.  Even with all these rules, flickers apparently aren’t picky.  They will use almost any box large enough, including Wood Duck boxes.  The 3-10 white eggs are incubated by the female during the day and the male at night.  They hatch in about 12 days, and the hatchlings are ready to leave the nest in four weeks.

If your yard has the right habitat, put up a flicker box and study their behavior as they fledge their chicks.  If you already have a nesting box, continue to observe these noisy but beautiful birds throughout the year.



Sources:

 “Conservation Trails.”  WildBird.   March, 1994.

The Cornell Lab of Ornithology’s Guide to Birds of North America, Version 3.

The Field Sparrow

The Field Sparrow (Spizella pusilla) is a small songbird in the family Emberizidae (Order Passeriformes) that occurs throughout most of eastern North America.  It is one of the relatively few sparrows that commonly breed in the Southeast. 

Field Sparrow in summer

Distinguishing characteristics of the Field Sparrow include a short, pink bill; white eye-rings; white outer tail feathers; and a plain, unmarked breast.  The species is found in a variety of old fields, woodland edges, fencerows, and agricultural areas.  It begins courtship and mating in early spring, with males chasing females and defending territory from other males.  Males maintain and defend their territories through physical altercations between males as well as by their song, which is a warbling trill.  In addition to this song, the Field Sparrow has several alarm and flight calls that are used in a variety of contexts. 

Field Sparrow in winter

Nest construction begins in late April and extends through mid-May.  The nest, which is placed at a height of 9-300 centimeters in vegetation, is built solely by the female, and is composed of grasses, roots, hair, and other fine materials woven into a cup shape.  The eggs have a cream or white ground color, are marked with spots in various shades of brown, and have a smooth surface.  There are usually two to five eggs laid in a brood, and the female incubates for approximately twelve days.  The mostly naked, altricial nestlings are fed in the nest by both male and female parents for a period of about seven to eight days. 

The most frequent foods offered to the nestlings include many insects in both the adult and nymph stages, and various species of spiders.  After the young birds fledge, the parents will care for them until they reach independence at about one month of age.  The adult diet consists mainly of seeds, but some insects are taken, too.  

The Field Sparrow is a widespread species, ranging from southeast and northwest Montana, central Minnesota, southern Ontario, southern Maine, and southern New Brunswick; south to northeast Colorado, western Oklahoma and Kansas, central Texas and northern Mexico, and through the Gulf Coast to central Florida.  Some populations of the Field Sparrow are migratory, although most are not.  In the northernmost regions of its range, it is present only during the breeding season, and in the southernmost regions (such as the Gulf Coast and much of Florida), it is present only as a winter resident.  Be on the lookout for Field Sparrows in grassland and forest-edge habitats as the summer wanes and the fall season approaches!

Source:

Best, L. B.  1977.  Nesting biology of the Field Sparrow.  Auk 94(2):308-319.

The Red-cockaded Woodpecker

If you live in or near pine forest regions of the southeastern United States, you have a decent chance of encountering the Red-cockaded Woodpecker, a specialist of those habitats.  You will likely hear the raspy calls before actually seeing the woodpeckers, which tend to be relatively inconspicuous against the trunks of the pines.  When one of them comes into view, though, it can be distinguished from the far more common Downy and Hairy Woodpeckers by its white cheek patches and completely barred back.  (Downy and Hairy Woodpeckers, in contrast, have striped faces and white backs.)  Males of the species have red feathers—the “cockades”—on the sides of the crown, but, because these are tiny and seldom displayed, they are not a particularly important field mark.

Note the barred back and the white cheeks

These woodpeckers are restricted to open pine forests with sparse understories of palmettos, grasses, shrubs, and other plants.  The open nature of the habitat is a consequence of natural fires, which restrict understory growth and possibly leave younger trees more susceptible to Phellinus pini, or red heart, a fungal disease that damages the heartwood of infected pines.  The softened, diseased wood can then be more easily excavated by Red-cockaded Woodpeckers, which will dig cavities 5-50 feet high in living trees infected with red heart.  Many of these infected trees are well over 40 years in age.  The birds peck into the sapwood above and below the cavities that they create, which results in a flow of sap that deters predators (such as rat snakes) and other animals from accessing the roost or nest holes.

Open pine habitat in early spring

Like most woodpeckers, Red-cockaded woodpeckers make various vocalizations at the nest and during courtship and other encounters.  Drumming on trees—usually pines—is another common means of communication, as are wing-fluttering, open-winged displays, and crest-raising.  The spread-winged display is used to reinforce the pair bond between a male and female.  Eggs are laid from late April to early June in a pre-existing cavity, rather than one that is excavated specifically for a nest.  The eggs are white in color, and become stained with pine resin over the course of the incubation period.  The female of the pair lays one egg per day, with one to six eggs comprising a clutch.  Incubation, which lasts about ten days, is performed by both parents, with the male incubating overnight.  Both parents feed and tend the altricial, pink-skinned, featherless nestlings.  Although the young birds fledge after about 26-29 days, they are at least partially dependent on their parents for up to six months afterward.  The Red-cockaded Woodpecker’s propensity for living in loose colonies or family groups benefits it during the nesting period, as unmated “helper” birds may aid breeding pairs in feeding nestlings and fledglings.  Usually, a pair has only one brood per year.

A foraging Red-cockaded Woodpecker

Interestingly, male and female Red-cockaded Woodpeckers are somewhat segregated according to the types of feeding sites that they use, with males foraging on branches and high on the trunks of pines, and females preferring to forage at lower elevations and only on the trunks.  Both sexes eat mainly insects and other arthropods, including cerambycid beetles, larvae and grubs of various species, ants, and millipedes.  On occasion, they will also consume small fruits and seeds. 

Although the Red-cockaded Woodpecker is a fairly widespread species, it is patchily distributed due to its highly specialized niche.  Habitat loss remains a serious threat to these woodpeckers, so conservation efforts generally focus on preserving tracts of large pines and subjecting them to controlled burning to clear the understory layers.  These measures seem to be working.  Just last year, the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service downlisted the species from endangered to threatened.  Any birder or naturalist who is fortunate enough to live near one of the managed populations would do well to keep a sharp eye—and ear—out for these fascinating little woodpeckers during this summer and fall.

Sources:

Ligon, J. D.  1970.  Behavior and breeding biology of the Red-cockaded Woodpecker.  Auk        87(2):255-278.

https://www.fws.gov/press-release/2024-10/downlisting-red-cockaded-woodpecker-endangered-threatened

Observing Gallinules

My first sighting of a gallinule was over twenty years ago at Noxubee National Wildlife Refuge.  It was a Purple Gallinule, and utterly unmistakable: violet head, neck, and breast blending to green on the back and wings; long, yellow legs; red-and-yellow bill; ruffled white undertail feathers; and a chicken-like gait and stance.  I later saw Common Gallinules (then called Common Moorhens—they were split from the Old World species in 2011), as well.  I had heard them calling at a heronry in south-central Mississippi before that, but had not seen them.  As it turns out, even though gallinules may be less secretive than their cousins, the rails, they don’t always make themselves obvious.

Perfect gallinule habitat -- and a gallinule in the upper right corner.

However, this time of year—late summer—is one of the best times to look for them.  Both Common and Purple Gallinules can be found on many ponds and lakes in the southeastern United States.  They need lots of aquatic vegetation on which to build their nests and search for food.  In the summer months, they are surprisingly active and vocal, and often have chicks in tow.  

This Common Gallinule swims with its three young.

This Purple Gallinule stays with its chick.

Gallinule clutch sizes are fairly large; eight is a typical number of eggs, although, obviously, not all of the chicks will survive to adulthood.  In the video below, you can see three Common Gallinule young swimming with the adult.

Gallinules consume a variety of foods, including aquatic vegetation and invertebrates.  Their long toes enable them to walk on floating vegetation (generally lily and lotus pads) while foraging.  They sometimes pluck insects and snails from the undersides of leaves, as you can see in the following video of a Purple Gallinule chick:

Because their nesting period is generally in the spring, their young are pretty far along in development by this point.  It also helps that they are born semi-precocial, rather than altricial.  This means that, unlike songbird chicks, they are feathered and have their eyes open.  Unlike precocial Killdeer chicks, though, they still stay in the nest for a day or so and must be fed by their parents for several days.  Once out of the nest, they can climb through vegetation using the tiny claws on their wings.  This is a feature of birds in Rallidae, the rail family.

This Purple Gallinule chick is stretching its wings.

It takes several weeks for gallinule chicks to learn to fly, and it could be argued that they are never truly comfortable with that skill!  On lakes and ponds, gallinules generally fly for only short distances, but some North American populations do migrate from breeding territories to wintering grounds in southern North America or Central America.  The vast majority of Common and Purple Galinules actually occur in South America, where they are permanent residents.

An immature Purple Gallinule -- old enough to be away from its parents, but not old enough for adult plumage.  Note the white undertail coverts, though.  Adult birds have these, too.

Some of my favorite places to see gallinules are Noxubee NWR and Ross Barnett Reservoir.  Of course, there are many other areas to look, and, if you go exploring, you just might discover a new hotspot. 

Sources:

Bannor, B. K. and E. Kiviat (2020). Common Gallinule (Gallinula galeata), version 1.0. In Birds of the World (A. F. Poole and F. B. Gill, Editors). Cornell Lab of Ornithology, Ithaca, NY, USA. https://doi.org/10.2173/bow.comgal1.01.

West, R. L. and G. K. Hess (2020). Purple Gallinule (Porphyrio martinica), version 1.0. In Birds of the World (A. F. Poole and F. B. Gill, Editors). Cornell Lab of Ornithology, Ithaca, NY, USA. https://doi.org/10.2173/bow.purgal2.01.