Backyard Birds, Part Deux

Last fall I posted a blog about the most common birds that I had been seeing at my feeder. But after a full year of living at this house, I've discovered a few more visitors that I thought it would be fun to add to the list. My first list included the titmouse, chickadee, goldfinch, cardinal, white-breasted nuthatch, hairy and downy woodpeckers, flicker, pileated woodpecker, mourning dove, blue jay, ruby-throated hummingbird, Carolina wren, Baltimore oriole, bluebird, mockingbird, catbird, phoebe, and red-tailed hawk. This one will cover the robin, junco, red-breasted nuthatch, cowbird, chipping sparrow, red-bellied woodpecker, song sparrow, Cooper's hawk, turkey vulture, and house finch. 

American Robin

Robins are harbingers of spring in my New England yard, although we sometimes have a few that hang around for most of the winter. This year for most of the winter I had flocks stopping to feast on the berries of my holly bushes on their way south. Robins have a distinctive bright red chest. They prefer worms and berries, so are often seen hopping along the ground. They often fly close to the ground as well. Their most distinctive calls are a loud repeated scold and a happy "cheer up! cheerily!" sounding call. They often build nests near houses, including in bushes and even in wreaths on doors.  Robins are quite territorial and will occasionally "fight" with the rearview mirrors on cars, thinking it's another bird. 

Dark-Eyed Junco

Although I tend to think of juncos as winter birds, they are around all year. Although similar in size to titmice and finches, they're easy to identify based on their white bellies which don't extend up to their chests and contrast nicely with their dark gray bodies. They also have yellow beaks. Juncos will come to a hanging feeder but more often forage on the ground. They don't make a lot of noise, but will occasionally let out a long chirring call or a repeated "chip chip" that reminds me of pinging a high tension wire. 

Red-breasted Nuthatch

I had never seen these fascinating little birds until living where I do now! They share a streamlined body shape with their larger cousins, the white-breasted nuthatches, and they also occasionally hang upside down on trees or feeders like them. They have a rusty-red belly and chest and a well-defined black-and-white eye stripe, and are about the size of a chickadee. They are somewhat aggressive with each other and with other birds and will often squawk and flap their wings to drive others away from the feeder. They have funny little squeaky, nasal voices that are easy to recognize once you've heard them. 

Brown-Headed Cowbird

Male cowbirds are very easy to identify, as their bodies are glossy black and their heads are brown. Females are more non-descript and are easy to confuse with the many mottled gray types of finches and sparrows, although both genders are noticeably larger. I try not to encourage the cowbirds, as not only are they fairly aggressive and drive other species away, but they lay their eggs in other birds' nests and leave them to care for their eggs! They have a wide variety of calls and frequently chitter at each other or even sing to themselves while they're at the feeder. 

Chipping Sparrow

There are a lot of finches and sparrows that I struggle to differentiate between, but the chipping sparrow is relatively easy to identify, based on its small size, rusty red cap, and black eye stripe. The pattern and color on its wings is similar to a house sparrow, but it is much smaller and the rusty patch on the male house sparrow's head does not cover the top of the head. In addition to a long, sharp trill, it makes a repeated "chip chip chip" from which it gets its name.

Red-Bellied Woodpecker

This woodpecker looks a lot like a flicker at first glance, but although they are the same size, the red on its head goes all the way over the top, and the black-and-white mottling is only on its wings and back, leaving its belly pure white, unlike the flicker's gray polka-dotted belly. They have a short, rasping squawk which is hard to describe but easy to recognize. I heard them in the trees many times before I finally saw one at the feeder. 

Song Sparrow

Another small finch/sparrow-type bird that can be hard to distinguish, the dark streaks on the song sparrow's belly help to identify it, as well as its brown eye stripes. Not surprisingly, the best way to identify it is through its long, melodic, trill-laden song, which you are most likely to hear early in the morning. Like many other sparrows, it also has a loud "chip! chip!" alarm call.

Cooper's Hawk

Along with red-tailed hawks, we frequently see Cooper's hawks loitering in the trees near the feeder, hoping to catch a plump mourning dove unawares. The easiest way to tell the two types of hawk apart is to look at the tail in flight. The red-tailed hawk's tail is not only distinctly reddish (usually although not always), it is also short and fan-shaped, while the Cooper's hawk has a much longer, narrower tail. 

Turkey Vulture

Another raptor we see regularly is the turkey vulture. Since the bright red head is often difficult to see while the birds are flying high overhead, the easiest way to distinguish them from the hawks we frequently see is their flight pattern. The vultures have a noticeable "bobble" when they soar, and they tend to hold their wings in more of a "V" position when seen head-on, as opposed to the flatter profile of most hawks. They are also larger than red-tailed hawks, but size can be hard to distinguish in flight. Although hawks will frequently roost in trees near the bird feeders watching for potential prey, the vultures have no interest in the songbirds that frequent backyard feeders. 

House Finch

Let's start with a disclaimer: I cannot tell the difference between a male house finch and a purple finch. Even when I look at photographs comparing and contrasting the two, I can't see the differences described. So I'm grouping them together as house finches, merely because it sounds like house finches are more common. Another example of big differences in coloring between the sexes, the males have a bright to dark red faces and breasts, while the females are mottled brown all over. (Note: I learned while researching for this blog that finches are more likely to have sexual dimorphism than sparrows, so when trying to determine between the two, that's a good starting place!) The female finches closely resemble song sparrows, but lack the sparrow's head stripes, and the streaks on their bellies go all the way to their feet, as opposed to the sparrow's which fades out at the chest.

Now get out there and enjoy watching those birds!

Lent Photo a Day: Near

Most of us spend most of our lives near other people. We sit near our co-workers at the office. We sit near our family or friends when we eat our meals. Even though we’re in our cars, we’re near many other people (also in their cars) while we’re driving. We’re near other people at the grocery store, in the doctor’s office, at a club, in a meeting. We’re so near that we’re often actually physically touching other people in an elevator, at a concert, on the subway, waiting in a crowded line. Wherever we are, someone else is nearly always near.

And yet, as physically near as we are to many people on a regular basis, we’re rarely emotionally near to very many. Perhaps a spouse or significant other, perhaps a best friend, maybe even a parent or an adult child. But the number of people whom we would consider our literal “nearest and dearest” can likely be counted on our fingers, possibly even the fingers on just one hand. Why do we have so few people to whom we are near? Because to be near to someone, you need to trust each other. And trust is not so easy to establish.

I love to watch the birds eating at my bird feeder. In the summer, my feeder is on the far side of the pool, so I can watch from a safe distance without scaring them away. But this winter, the feeder is too hard to access through the many feet of snow, so I’ve been throwing seed onto the porch. And I find that I can watch from much nearer, but I need to be patient and wait for the birds to learn to trust me. I have to be quiet, and still, and patient. I have to listen rather than speak. I have to sit still rather than move around. I have to wait rather than act. And if I do all those things for long enough, the birds will come to trust me, and they will come near. But if I startle them with a sharp noise or a sudden movement, I lose their trust and have to start all over again before they are willing to once again come near. 

Relationships are much the same way. They require listening, and stillness, and patience. Trust can only be established over time, and it is easily broken with a careless word or a hasty movement. But if we can only teach ourselves to listen and be still and be patient, we are rewarded when someone trusts us enough to come near.

Near.

It's For the Birds

Spring must be coming, because in the last week suddenly all the birds in our backyard have been breaking into their spring songs. The chickadees are calling, "Sweetie! Sweeeeeee-tieeeeeee!", the cardinals are singing their loopy, drunken-sounding Three Stooges "Whoop whoop whoop!" love call, and various assorted songbirds that I can't even identify are swapping their dull winter chirps for impressive trilling sonatas and arias. Instead of a single blue jay, I can hear pairs calling back and forth - love songs or territorial warnings, I'm not sure which, but without a doubt, a sign of spring.

And of course, this also means that our birdfeeders are being visited by a constant stream of feathered friends, which Ryan absolutely loves. He often plays in his jumperoo chair in the kitchen while I'm puttering about washing dishes or making breakfast, and his attention is continually being drawn to the action at the feeders. The pert chickadees and titmice who announce their landing with a loud PEEP! The bright male cardinal who reminds us he's still there with his repeated chip chip chip. The shy woodpecker who sneaks up to the suet one hop at a time and flies away if the braver juncos cut in line. The cloud of starlings who can't quite stuff their chubby selves into the suet feeder but have to content themselves with the scraps on the ground dropped by the other birds. Ryan is enraptured by all of them.

He has no idea, of course, that spring is coming or that these songs are different from what he's heard before. To him, the birds are just something bright and moving and fun to watch and listen to. But to me, they're the hope of spring, the promise of warm weather to come, and another reminder of all the new joys and excitements that will be on their way in the coming weeks and months.