Birds of Summer

Summer is rapidly approaching.  The Migration Count, which took place over two weeks ago, was a lot of fun.  Even during that event, however, I could tell that the peak of bird migration was over.  That’s not to say that I didn’t see many interesting species on the count—but nearly all of them are going to be here through the breeding season, building their nests and raising young before migrating south in the fall.

What sorts of summer resident birds am I regularly observing where I live?  Well, Summer Tanagers seem to be everywhere.  Both the males and the females spend a lot of time in the large oak and pine trees around the neighborhood.  I haven’t yet found a nest, but I’ll be sure to post about it if I do.  These birds’ bright colors—rosy red for the adult males, and mustard yellow for the adult females—stand out against the green foliage, and their sharp pik-i-tuk-tuk calls and throaty songs add variety to the outdoor soundtrack.

Summer Tanager

In the lower-lying portions of the neighborhood, where I seldom venture, there are apparently enough bottomland hardwood tree species to entice Prothonotary Warblers and Northern Parulas.  I actually see far more of these birds at Sam D. Hamilton Noxubee National Wildlife Refuge, but any woodland near water may harbor them.  I listen for the dry, ascending trill of the parula and the somewhat monotonous, ringing tweet tweet tweet tweet of the Prothonotary.  The Prothonotary Warbler builds its nests in tree cavities (and may use nesting boxes, if you have them), while the Northern Parula nests in hanging vegetation, including Spanish moss.

Northern Parula on the move

Prothonotary Warbler singing at Noxubee NWR

Indigo Buntings brighten any day with their upbeat, whistled, jumbled songs.  The males, of course, have iridescent blue feathers that appear indigo in dimmer light and vibrant turquoise in direct sunlight.  The females are subtler, with buff-brown plumage and often a hint of blue on the wings and tail.  The Indigo Bunting nests low in a tree or a shrub.  I’ve seen a couple of Painted Bunting nests in Arkansas—and that was after hours and hours of looking!  Indigo Bunting nests may be equally well concealed, but the abundance of the species in comparison to the Painted Bunting should make finding its nests a little easier.  Whether or not I ever discover a nest in this area, Indigo Buntings will remain fascinating to me.

Indigo Bunting in Arkansas

On the larger side of things are Mississippi Kites, which tend to stake out territories around rivers and streams.  I suspect that the kites I see in the neighborhood are nesting somewhere along the creek run.  They sometimes perch in the large snags at the edges of the fields.  Other times, they swoop through the treetops to catch cicadas and other large insects, giving distinctive two-note calls.  Perhaps surprisingly, I have not observed any smaller birds chasing the kites; either they view the kites as non-threatening, or they are deeply terrified of them.  I’m sure that the Red-shouldered Hawks in the neighborhood—which always seem to be mobbed by mockingbirds, crows, and other species—would appreciate similar treatment!

Mississippi Kite

This is just a small sampling of the avian life that I have seen over the past month or so.  No matter how routine and mundane things may seem, especially as springtime wanes, there is always something of interest to observe in nature.

The North American Migration Count

For many birders, the hobby of birding is at its best in the springtime.  While you head out into the field, the observer of the changing landscape with all its fresh, different sights, there will be transient birds migrating through, new residents staking out territory, early breeders busy at their nests, and winter visitors moving on north.  This is clearly one of the best times to survey the vast numbers of bird life on this continent and make a useful contribution to science.  This is the idea behind the North American Migration Count—which is held on the second Saturday of May.  Although this date falls later than the peak of spring migration for the Southeast, there should still be plenty of migrating birds moving through.  Migration counts may be conducted by teams of birders or individuals, but each count area must be confined to a single county.  All wild birds within the count area may be included in the tally, and the counting procedure is very simple and straightforward—like that of the Christmas Bird Count.

I was a teenager when I first participated in the North American Migration Count.  The Oktibbeha Audubon Society asked me to survey a route in the southeastern part of the county.  My dad and I headed out on our route at about 9:30 a.m., hitting the Bluff Lake levee first to tally any herons, egrets or songbirds that crossed over into Oktibbeha County.  The morning was warm and muggy but full of birds.  Very quickly we picked up Acadian Flycatcher, Common Yellowthroat, Yellow-throated Warbler, Great Crested Flycatcher, Eastern Kingbird, Prothonotary Warbler, White-eyed Vireo, Indigo Bunting and many other species in the woods, including a Ruby-throated Hummingbird feeding from Trumpet Creeper blossoms.  We heard a Fish Crow and also counted many egrets flying overhead, a couple of Wood Ducks, and one Great Blue Heron, which surprisingly, would turn out to be our only one all day.  Just as we were leaving the area, I glimpsed a group of three large birds flying high overhead—White Ibises.

Prothonotary Warbler

We drove a little down the road, looking and listening for some of the forest species such as Red-eyed and Yellow-throated Vireo, Pileated Woodpecker, Eastern Wood-Pewee and Yellow-billed Cuckoo.  By now our list was around 40 species.  There were good numbers of singing Yellow Warblers, and I could make out two Northern Parulas trilling close by.  As we got out to walk a trail that cut through the woods, there was a harsh chittering overhead, which alerted us to about two dozen Chimney Swifts circling.  These were probably natural-nesting swifts, choosing a hollow tree over a manmade chimney.

The woods were mostly deciduous, with tall pines mixed in here and there.  There were also many deep puddles of muddy water from a recent rainfall.  Pine Warblers, chickadees, titmice, towhees, and vireos noisily proclaimed their territories in the dense woods, seeming almost indignant at us traipsing through their home.  I accidentally flushed a Cooper’s Hawk from its roost.  It flew away, disturbing the singing birds for a few minutes.  I heard White-breasted Nuthatches in the distance and saw a pair of Summer Tanagers in the trees.  Bird songs were not all that we heard:  Gray Treefrogs were also making their presence known in the forest with low-pitched croaks.

Cooper's Hawk

I had just commented to my dad on the odd absence of Kentucky Warblers, when one in a thicket burst emphatically into song.  A Hooded Warbler added its short, eight-syllable whistle to the other sounds of the forest, while wrens and skinks scuttled through the thickets and leaf litter, the wrens putting in a word now and then, unlike the lizards!  There was a creek by this trail where we were likely to find Louisiana Waterthrushes, and in the trees near it, American Redstarts.  Unfortunately, neither species showed up for us, and eventually we moved on, making a mental note to come back to the trail later. 

We went up Oktoc Road for more counting.  The habitat here was mostly thickets, fields and pastures, with scattered trees, which meant a whole new group of species for us.  Bluebirds and kingbirds perched on the wires; grackles and blackbirds foraged in the pastures.  We were able to add Red-headed Woodpeckers and many more Cattle Egrets to the tally.  Eastern Meadowlarks, Orchard Orioles, Barn Swallows and Purple Martins also put in appearances.  Overhead, there were vultures, Red-tailed Hawks and a Green Heron that flew from a small pond.  A little farther down the road, I heard a loud ringing song coming from a thicket—a Swainson’s Warbler.  I listened to the recording on my audio field guide back in the car; no doubt about it:  the song was a Swainson’s Warbler’s.  Since this is a fairly scarce bird, I wrote down the location, including the mailbox number, and we headed on.

We came to a place down the road where mixed forest grew on one side and young trees and shrubs were just coming up on the other.  Almost immediately our ears picked up Northern Bobwhite, Yellow-breasted Chat and one Prairie Warbler.  A few more Kentucky Warblers and Indigo Buntings sang loudly, and I spotted another Summer Tanager pair.  Then I noticed something lower down in an oak tree.  I investigated with binoculars and found myself looking at a beautiful male Scarlet Tanager, just sitting on a limb in a little shaft of sunlight, his jet-black wings and tail contrasting with the bright-red of his body.  What a treat!

Scarlet Tanager

We still had to head through Starkville, so after tallying, we drove on.  While in town, we saw plenty of House Sparrows and European Starlings and two Eurasian Collared Doves.  Our next stop was a sewage lagoon where we supposed to locate a few ducks and shorebirds.  As we began walking around the pond, we flushed bunches of Red-winged Blackbirds and saw Northern Rough-winged Swallows overhead, but the edge of the pond, choked with weeds, just didn’t look promising for sandpipers.  Farther up, however, we noticed the drastic difference in the habitat.  There were obvious mud flats with shorebirds feeding.  Three Solitary and one Spotted Sandpiper dotted the bank with several Killdeer, too.  We saw two Blue-winged Teal, a pair of Canada Geese with four large fuzzy young, and thirteen Wood Ducks—two adults and eleven ducklings. 

The count list was pretty big so far, but I did notice that we were missing a few birds.  We managed to find some Blue Grosbeaks by retracing our route and only counting species that were new to us, not ones we’d counted already.  We managed to hear a flock of Cedar Waxwings this way, and then went to search again for the redstarts and waterthrushes.

The woods were a lot quieter now; it was about 4:00 p.m. and I doubted that we’d see the elusive species we were looking for.  Although we didn’t pick up any new birds while we were there, we did see other wildlife.  Butterflies fed on the flowers, Ichneumon wasps flew up from the grass, and a Southern Leopard Frog was in one of the puddles.  My dad was pleased to observe a Toad Bug that I located near another pool of water.  We watched it as it hopped about, its coloration blending in amazingly well with the gritty mud of its habitat.

Back in the car, we counted up the species we had found during the day:  seventy-six, and hundreds of individuals all over.  It had been a great count.  We were both exhausted but filled with a sense of accomplishment and exciting memories of that spring day. 

Even if your schedule doesn't permit you to count every bird that you see for an entire day, it’s still worthwhile to spend some time marveling at the diversity of species during this fascinating season!

The Orchard Oriole

A beautiful, variable song of whistles and guttural notes announces the presence of the Orchard Oriole in nearly every open woodland in Mississippi.  This striking bird, the smallest of all North American orioles, arrives in spring during the first half of April and is soon abundant in orchards and stands of young trees—which is the habitat of many people’s yards!  Orchard Orioles can be somewhat difficult to see as they skulk in dense vegetation or sing from the tops of tall trees, but they are certainly worth watching.  While many species of birds simply pair up and retreat to the woods to nest singly, chasing off other members of the same species, Orchard Orioles have much more interesting social behaviors.  More often than not, there will be several individuals on one property, and they will usually stay in that area until the end of summer. 

Soon after they arrive in the state, the male orioles begin singing, usually from high perches.  Many of these birds are males in their first spring and are greenish-yellow with white wing bars and black throats.  Some may show traces of chestnut feathering as well.  The males two years or older are striking with their rich chestnut underparts and extensive black hoods.  Instead of the upper white wing bars of the younger males, they have chestnut shoulder patches.

The more secretive females are predominantly greenish-yellow, darker on the upperparts and have white wing bars on dark wings.  At first glance they might resemble warblers, but they have longer tails and bills than any warblers and are larger than any warbler other than the Yellow-breasted Chat.  They spend most of their time hidden in the vegetation where, after they pair up, nest building begins.

No mating displays of the Orchard Oriole are known.  (A good reason to watch their behavior carefully this year:  you might notice something that has never been seen before!)  But nesting is fairly well documented, even though the nest can be very difficult to find, concealed as it is in the foliage.  The female, with a little help from the male, constructs a pouchlike nest of grasses suspended from a forked limb 4-50 feet up in a deciduous tree.  After the nest is built, the female lays 3-5 pale eggs marked with brown.  Both the male and female incubate, and they obviously don’t mind other pairs nesting close by.  Last year I saw three pairs on our wooded back six acres in early summer, and in Louisiana 114 pairs were once found nesting on one 7-acre tract! 

It takes about 12 days for the eggs to hatch, and then the virtually helpless young are fed by both parents.  They leave the nest after 11-14 days.  Often the parent birds will divide the group of fledglings and care for them separately, another interesting aspect of oriole behavior.  Only one brood per year is produced, but family groups will remain together until fall when they depart for their wintering grounds from central Mexico to northern South America.

With their sharp, slightly-curved bills, Orchard Orioles are obviously insect eaters and also feed heavily on fruit.  In August of last year I saw a whole family group in a fig tree, snatching pieces of ripe fig and probably the insects attracted to the fruit, as well.  Some people have success attracting orioles to nectar or halved oranges.  You might want to try this; it could be the key to luring orioles out in the open for easy viewing. 

Sadly, the Orchard Oriole is declining in some areas, especially western North America, in part due to cowbird parasitization.  But since it seems to be holding on very well in the Southeast, you can expect this fascinating oriole to keep on delighting you for years to come.

Source: 

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

The Cedar Waxwing

Winter just wouldn’t seem like winter, at least to a birder, without Cedar Waxwings passing overhead with a chorus of whistling trills or perched in a tree, rapidly devouring every berry in sight.  Even nonbirders enjoy watching these colorful cold-weather visitors that display long, sleek crests; striking black-and-white masks; waxy red tips on the secondary wing feathers; blue-gray tails tipped with yellow; and brown upperparts blending with the yellow underparts.

Waxwings, like Purple Finches and Pine Siskins, are somewhat erratic visitors to Mississippi.  Some years, huge flocks turn up on Christmas bird counts and strip hundreds of ripe berries or seeds from the trees, often in the company of American Robins.  During other winters, waxwings may be few and far between.

The amounts of food Cedar Waxwings can stuff themselves with never cease to amaze me, but certainly the variety of this food is just as great.  Mistletoe, holly, cedar and hackberry are just a few of the berry-producing plants that these birds will feed on, and insects are also taken, flycatcher-fashion.  Interestingly, waxwings are sometimes seen passing berries along to adjacent birds.

In the spring, Cedar Waxwings feed on mulberries and often the petals of flowering crabapple trees.  Make note of any Cedar Waxwings you see in late May or early June; they usually depart by this time.  There are a few breeding records for Cedar Waxwings in Mississippi, so be on the lookout for any nesting behavior among these birds.  Your observations could have ornithological significance!

One enjoyable thing about the Cedar Waxwing is that whether you are watching goldfinches and sparrows arrive in the fall or warblers and grosbeaks arrive in the springtime, there will almost certainly be a few of these spectacular birds around as well, making a great birding day even more memorable. 

Cedar Waxwings in May

Sources: 

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

Birds of Mississippi.  Turcotte, William H., and David L. Watts.  University Press of Mississippi.  Mississippi Department of Wildlife, Fisheries and Parks.  1999.

 

Beat Boredom with Winter Birding!

For a lot of us, it has been a tough winter.  If you're like me, then there have probably been days when you've found it difficult to make yourself spend time outside—or perhaps extreme weather conditions have prevented you from being outdoors.  If malaise is the problem, then finding a new challenge—such as species identification—may help you to find more enjoyment in your surroundings.  If inclement weather is the issue, then you can still learn about birds and wildlife, giving yourself a head start for when all of that ice finally melts!

Aftermath of 2021 ice storm

How about brushing up on sparrow identification?  Sparrows may seem drab, especially in comparison with our spring and summer wood-warblers, tanagers, orioles, and buntings.  However, if you spend some time studying them, you may be surprised at the variety of colors and patterns they sport.  A growing appreciation for subtlety is one of the benefits of watching sparrows: https://astheraincrowflies.blogspot.com/2018/12/sparrows.html.

White-throated Sparrow

If you’re able to visit lakes, ponds, or the seashore, then you might also enjoy studying waterfowl: geese, ducks, swans, grebes, coots, etc.  Waterfowl tend to migrate farther south when food sources up north get harder to find, so, if you live in the Southeast, be on the lookout for large flocks of ducks to start appearing in your area after snow and ice events.  While waterfowl generally display flashier plumage than sparrows, some species have subtler coloration, and if you’re observing any of them from a great distance, identification may be tricky.  Here are some basic tips that I’ve compiled for common (and some not-so-common) waterfowl species: https://astheraincrowflies.blogspot.com/2020/12/winter-waterfowl.html.

Ring-necked Ducks and Green-winged Teal

Finally, have you noticed that some species of birds in your region seem to fluctuate wildly in numbers from year to year?  This may be due to dispersal patterns known as irruptions, which occur when food sources in northern climes are too low to sustain local avian populations.  Pine Siskins, Red-breasted Nuthatches, Red Crossbills, Evening Grosbeaks, and some species of sparrows are among the birds that can be considered irruptive.  Here is a piece about this phenomenon: https://astheraincrowflies.blogspot.com/2019/01/irruptions.html.

Happy winter birding!

The Blue-headed Vireo

In a few short months, the woods will be filled with the color and song of newly-arrived migrants: warblers, gnatcatchers, tanagers, and vireos, among others.  The Yellow-throated Vireo is one of our earliest migrants, and Red-eyed and White-eyed Vireos are some of the most numerous spring and summer forest birds, but even in the late days of winter there is a species of vireo living secretively in woods of the Southeast: the Blue-headed Vireo.

Blue-headed Vireos are hardy winter residents in the southern states.  They can be found in both upland and lowland habitats, in mixed or coniferous forests, where they feed on insects gleaned from bark, and also a few small fruits.  Like most vireos, they have a loud, scolding call, and their song is a series of short, whistled phrases.  Although they are usually silent in the winter, on warm days they can sometimes be heard singing.

The Blue-headed Vireo was originally grouped with two other species, the Plumbeous and Cassin’s Vireos—both of which occur in western North America—as one species, the Solitary Vireo.  It may be not be used anymore, but this name is still descriptive; outside of the breeding season, Blue-headed Vireos are rarely seen with other members of their species, preferring instead to forage with chickadees, titmice, warblers, and kinglets.  In fact, one of the best ways to locate one is to search through these flocks of small, jittery songbirds, until the slower, more deliberate movements of this reclusive bird catch your eye.

Once you find a Blue-headed Vireo, take the time to appreciate the colors of its plumage.  The namesake bluish-gray head contrasts with the bold white “spectacle” marks around the bird’s eyes.  The back is bright olive, and the wings have prominent yellowish wing bars.  The underparts are white, with yellow flanks.  The heavy, slightly hooked bill is very different from the thin, almost straight bills of the warblers and kinglets that the vireo feeds with.

This songbird arrives for the winter in October and departs for more northerly regions in mid-April.  Be sure to get out into the field to spot the colorful Blue-headed Vireo and other wintering songbirds this January!

Beach Sunset

I love walking on the beach near sunset, especially when the weather isn’t too warm.  The sand feels delightfully soft and cool, the clouds stretch across the sky in gorgeous pastel shades, and waves provide a relaxing soundtrack as they steadily lap the shoreline.

The seashore birds’ calls—some raucous, some guttural, and some piping—punctuate the sounds of the water and wind.  Black-bellied Plovers may look fairly drab in their winter plumage, but their plaintive, whistling notes are anything but dull.  These close relatives of the familiar, pasture-loving Killdeer remain on the Gulf Coast through the winter, but migrate north in the spring.  It amuses me that this bird doesn’t have a black belly at all during this time of year.

Black-bellied Plover at the shoreline

Like most egrets and herons, the Snowy Egret has a very unmelodious—even grating—call.  But few people would deny its elegance as it gracefully strides through the tide pools, hunting for small fish and invertebrates.  Although the water is a bit too cold for me, the Snowy Egret appears to pay it no mind.  Black legs ending in bright yellow feet are one of its identifying features.

Snowy Egret striding

While the egret moves off, the small, browinish Dunlin comes forward to prod the mud near the edge of the pool with its pointed beak.  The Dunlin is a common winter visitor and migrant on the Gulf Coast, and, on most beaches, only the grayish but equally small Sanderling outnumbers it.  These species may mingle with each other, but the Dunlin tends to feed in somewhat deeper water, as the slightly greater length of its bill would suggest.

Snowy Egret and Dunlin foraging

As I look up and slightly to the right, I see several more species of shorebirds, including Marbled Godwit, Willet, and Semipalmated Plover.  The larger individuals, such as the godwits and the willets, forage in the deeper water, while the smaller plovers and dunlins stay in the shallower sections.  The names godwit and willet may seem strange, but they were intended as transcriptions of the birds’ calls.  I hear neither of these species calling at the time, but the persistent chirps and whistles of the others more than make up for that.

Shorebirds foraging in the tide pools

The sun starts to drop below the horizon, signaling that it’s time for me to leave.  I will miss the sights, sounds, and sensations of the beach, and I hope that I can re-experience them soon.