Dang, what was up with that? I glanced up, only to realize that I was standing under a maple tree.....walnuts usually grow on walnut trees.
Dagnabbit, this little villain was bombing me.
I went on about my birding business. Then when I returned I heard an odd chucking call from the same tree.
Look who was looking down at me.
At least he warned me this time.
Chestnut-sided Warbler
The sky is a glass of orange juice at the horizon, cold weak tea at the zenith.
There is a singing to the Lord that cannot be ignored.
Hustle the dog back inside with double biscuits for the inconvenience and head back out for the songs.
An Eastern Towhee uncoils a string of notes far more intricate and joyful than the traditional mnemonic "Drink your Tea". It's more like a "drink your cool sweet honey wine at dawn while the sky paints beauty all around" kind of sound.
Warbling Vireo
Two Rose-breasted Grosbeaks chirp round, rich notes at each other, as mellow as Georgia peaches, and sweet as pecan pie.
It's cold out here. The weather guru says 38 degrees, but I think there is ice on the cars. Supposed to hit 70 today but it's gonna take a few hours to get there.
I cannot sleep in. I started getting up stupid early the year Riva Ridge won the Derby. I was not long out of high school and "walking hots" at Saratoga Race Track for the summer.
Green Heron
I had to be there at five, so I had to get up at four to drive to the track. I loved it. There is magic on the backstretch as the sun comes up. Horses galloping or jogging through the mist. Grooms sharing a quick coffee between sets. Grooms buying me coffee because they were nice guys and there were very few girls working there then. I can never forget it. I can also never get over waking up too early.
Milking cows for forty or fifty odd years (some of them very odd) reinforced the tendency. It got into my blood, and in summer I awaken just before four whether I want to or not.
American Redstart
In some ways it is a pain. There are no cows to milk and no Thoroughbred dragons to guide in circles on the walking ring....just a Jack Russell Terrier making his impatience known, and the cold, dark sky.
I have to be quiet so as not to wake the more normal denizens of our abode. Sometimes a more normal hour would be a pleasant change. At least in winter I can occasionally sleep until five or so.
Blue-gray Gnatcatcher
However, in May it all pays off. Even when it's cold, I can go outside for the singing. Here is a recording of the just the American Robin portion of today's singing....You may need headphones to hear it well. The speakers on my computer won't play it...
Pretty soon everybody else will get up and the birds will get quiet, but for now it's a pretty special time of day.
Yellow-throated Vireo
However, this year, I had mixed emotions when they built a nest in a spruce just down the driveway from the house right in front of my sitting porch. I know about nature and all but that doesn't mean I want to watch up close as those nest robbing bandits do their deeds. It has been interesting to watch them though, and I was looking forward to seeing the young start adventuring.
I have even more mixed emotions now though. Two night ago there was a Godawful racket out in the yard just past sunset. I couldn't believe my ears. I never hear crows when it is dark at all. Robins will natter on, mockingbirds will sing all night, but crows are generally silent when the sun is gone.
These were screaming. Sounded like twenty rather than two. Then a huge shape wafted past the window with both crow parents in hot pursuit.
Since that time I have seen no nest visits and the sentinels have left their patient spot in the cottonwood tree where the driveway forks. Previously one or the other spent hours there every day just watching the nest, which is almost invisible, even if you know where to look. I only found it by seeing them go in and out with sticks earlier in the year.
I suspect that whatever that big flying shape was either carried off the chicks or ate the eggs.
An owl maybe? I don't know.
And I don't know whether to be sorry or not sorry.
Not our equipment, but I wanted you to see
some of the beautiful ground here in the valley
Catchy title, eh?
Today I put the hummingbird feeders out. Another birder a bit to the east of us had the first one for the county yesterday, so there is a feeder on the arbor outside the kitchen window and one on the sitting porch.
Once again the robin wars are being waged at the latter location. They want to build nests on the pillars and have to get hysterical any time they see anything at all out of the ordinary.
I want to sit in my red chair to count birds and drink coffee. Alas, they usually win, as I don't want their eggs to chill, but still....
On the fourth of April I planted some seeds I saved from those fabulous Amish watermelons last year. They never hatched, so I gave up, and the other day I planted coleus seeds on top of them. (As seed starter trays are absurdly expensive this year, I cut a kitty litter bottle, one of the huge plastic ones, in half lengthwise, leaving it connected at one end to make a sort of lid. Then I drilled a couple of drainage holes in the side which is now the bottom, filled that part with seed starting mix, and taped the top closed with a strip of duct tape. Makes a handy little greenhouse and the price was right).
Anyhow, I peeked to see if the coleus were up, and there were two little watermelon plants.
What took ya so long? Hope I can keep them growing until turnout time and maybe get a melon or two. Just in case the Amish don't have any this summer.
Male Downy Woodpecker working on his nest
Found a nice bird the other day at Yankee Hill, a Yellow-throated Warbler. First one reported in the county and a lifer for me. Happy dance.
Otherwise, lime green leaves are emerging from box elder branches as the first warm spring rain patters down. The daffodils have been able to give quite a show this year, what with the long, slow, cool spring we've had. Ditto the maple flowers, which are still showing lipstick red across the hills and mountains.
A Solitary Sandpiper at the solitary little quarry mentioned below
(No rails yet)
Yesterday we were on a particularly remote backroad, parked in a little quarry while I hunted warblers and such. It is a wonderful spot, where, although you can hear distant traffic noises, it is quiet enough that when a raven flew over I could hear wind whispering through its wing feathers.
It is a spot of delightful peace and birdiness. It is not a delightful spot to discover that the radio has killed your car battery.
We were horrified. The word boondocks comes to mind.
However, within minutes the second vehicle we had seen in the entire time we were there came tooling by, a big truck filled with a big gentleman and several (loud) big dogs. He didn't have jumper cables, but he had seen a DEC officer parked back a ways and he thought he might have some, so he went back to find him.
Officer Willson quickly responded with the proper tools for the situation and just as quickly got the car going.
What are the odds of being rescued so quickly in a spot like that? We were on our way within fifteen minutes after we first discovered the car wouldn't start.
Thanks gentlemen, you made a potential very bad day into a good one.
Meanwhile, bring on the hummingbirds!
The coltsfoot is finally in bloom here.
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| Cooper's Hawk |
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| Palm Warbler |
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| Eastern Phoebe |
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| Osprey |
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| Double-crested Cormorant |
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| Great Egret |
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| Eastern Meadowlark |
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| Black-capped Chickadee |
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| Bonaparte's Gull |
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| Swanicus Plastica |
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| Solitary Sandpiper |
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| The Lynk Street nest |
We were able to document and photograph the nest, thus confirming that ravens were breeding in that atlas block.
A few days later out on Lynk Street, we passed another, similar silo. "Stop!" I called out urgently to my official driver. I remembered that for the past two years we have seen a raven hanging around that farm yard, perching in weird places, all year round including the dead of winter.
Sure enough there was a nest at the top of the silo ladder. This week Kris and I found chicks there begging eagerly to be fed.
That led me to remember the ravens we found feeding fledglings out on Pavlus Road late last summer....right next to yet another silo. I checked that one and sure enough a pair of them were hanging around it, but it is too far from the road for me to discern whether there is a nest on the ladder or not.
But I'll betcha there is.
Still more thought on the subject and I remembered a pair of ravens playing in the wild winter winds atop the ladders and structures at the mill where we buy our cow feed. Wonder if they are nesting somewhere among those structures as well.
It is interesting to me that out of three breeding pairs we have documented in Montgomery County every single one was either nesting on or closely associated with an empty farm silo.
You can bet we will be peering at silo ladders as we wander around counting birds this spring.
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