Monthly Archives: October 2023

Great horned owls become feathered phantoms after sunset

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Photo by HMaria from Pixabay • A great horned owl is capable of almost silent flight, which helps this predatory bird take prey by surprise. Many myths and superstitions surround the world’s owls, but the truth about owls is often more fascinating.

Great horned owls become feathered phantoms after sunset

In late September, I began hearing a great horned owl near my home. The sonorous hoots resonated from a distant ridge the other side of the road. The ridge was logged this year and many of the large white pines are gone. I wasn’t at all optimistic the owl would return.

There’s nothing to send shivers traveling along your spine like listening to these haunting hoots from a creature that’s well hidden from human eyes by the cloak of darkness.

Or a cloak of fog and mist, as the case may be. This returning owl calls most often near dawn and dusk. On foggy mornings, of which there has been plenty, the owl’s still been calling as I leave for work.

It’s no wonder that owls have also become popular motifs for the celebration of the Halloween holiday. Just remember there’s more to these creatures of the night than perhaps meets the eye. Owls may be our neighbors, but we’ll never truly belong to their world, which must be why they continue to intrigue us.

While human culture has turned owls into beloved creatures, keep in mind these birds are fierce and ferocious predators. For young American crows in their nests, this owl is the stuff of their avian nightmares. It’s no wonder that crows, some of their numbers no doubt having witnessed their peers taken by the great horned owl as prey when young and helpless, grow up with an abiding hatred of this large nocturnal raptor.

Flocks of adult crows form quickly when an owl is discovered at a roost during the daylight hours. With safety in numbers, the crows mercilessly hound and harry the unlucky owls.

Quite often, a crow’s sharp vision is required to detect a motionless owl at its daytime roost. Great horned owls have a plumage of mottled grays and browns, as well as some white feathers on the chin and throat. This plumage helps them blend into their surroundings. Even when on the move, the great horned owl rarely attracts attention. They can fly in almost perfect silence on wide wings that can stretch out to a wingspan of 4.6 feet.

I know about their silent flight from firsthand experience. Back in the early 2000s I visited Orchard Bog in Shady Valley in Johnson County in early spring for a chance to witness the evening display of American woodcocks. While waiting with other birders for the evening show, I noticed a large shadow moving low over the fields heading toward us. As the bird got closer, it became recognizable as a great horned owl. The owl barely diverted from its flight. In fact, it flew just over our heads, gliding silently on wide wings. I still marvel at how the owl’s wings made no noise whatsoever. The owl continued to glide over the fields until we lost it in the dusk.

On another occasion I also witnessed how, when they want to do so, great horned owls can be absolutely silent. While vacationing on Fripp Island, South Carolina, in the 1990s, I would accompany my family for dusk golf cart excursions. We liked to pull off the side of the road on a causeway that crossed a series of tidal creeks and marsh. On that occasion, a great horned owl flew from nearby woodlands to land on a gnarled snag that rose above the marshland vegetation. Although the owl arrived on silent wings, it soon interrupted the silence with resonant hoots that carried over the marshes. The owl returned to the same snag for two additional evenings during our vacation stay.

I’ve seen other great horned owls over the years in locations from South Carolina and Florida to Utah and and Virginia. I’ve heard many more of these large owls than I have ever been able to get into focus in my binoculars. It’s still a thrill to get even a brief sighting of these impressive birds.

I’ve always thought about trying to locate the owls in residence at my home. I’ve scanned the silhouettes of the tree line in the direction of their hoots, but I’ve not ventured forth on a more methodical search. Perhaps I’ll save that as a Halloween activity this year. I’ll more likely continue to enjoy the owl’s haunting serenade and let a cloak of mystery continue to shroud this fascinating bird.

Photo by Bryan Stevens • A captive rehabilitated great horned owl at Calloway Gardens in Georgia.

Fall Bird Count detects 121 species

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Photo by Hans Room/Pixabay • A blackpoll warbler found during the Fall Bird Count represented a rare appearance by this species on the seasonal count, which has been held for 53 consecutive years. A purple gallinule found in Washington County represented another extremely rare find.

The 53rd consecutive Elizabethton Fall Bird Count was held Saturday, Sept. 30, with 30 observers in about 12 parties. The count area included Carter County, as well as the surrounding counties of Johnson, Sullivan, Unicoi and Washington.

The weather was good, with a temperature range between 54 and 82 F. Participants tallied 121 species, plus one unidentified Empidonax species. The Empidonax flycatchers, or “Empids,” as birders fondly lump them, are birds so similar in appearance they cannot reliably identified in the field unless they are vocalizing. Unfortunately, the Empids are largely silent in autumn.

This total is slightly below the recent 30-year average of 125 species, according to longtime compiler Rick Knight. He noted that the all-time high was 137 species in 1993.

Knight said that a count highlight was a lingering immature purple gallinule in Washington County.

The list:

Canada goose, 850; wood duck, 40; mallard, 179; common merganser, 6; northern bobwhite, 3; ruffed grouse, 1; and wild turkey, 37.

Pied-billed grebe, 4; rock pigeon, 362; Eurasian collared dove, 1; and mourning dove,172.

Yellow-billed cuckoo, 5; black-billed cuckoo, 1; common nighthawk, 2; chimney swift, 246; and ruby-throated hummingbird, 17.

Virginia rail, 1; purple gallinule, 1; killdeer, 45; Wilson’s snipe, 1; and spotted sandpiper, 2.

Double-crested cormorant, 84; great blue heron, 34; great egret, 3; green heron, 3; black vulture, 29; and turkey vulture, 141.

Osprey, 7; northern harrier, 1; sharp-shinned hawk, 5; Cooper’s hawk, 4; bald eagle, 7; red-shouldered hawk, 6; broad-winged hawk, 1; and red-tailed hawk,19.

Barn owl, 2; Eastern screech-owl, 17; great horned owl, 4; barred owl, 4; and Northern saw-whet owl, 1.

Belted kingfisher, 26; red-headed woodpecker, 3; red-bellied woodpecker, 69; yellow-bellied sapsucker, 7; downy woodpecker, 39; hairy woodpecker, 12; northern flicker, 54; and pileated woodpecker, 30.

American kestrel, 16; merlin, 1; great crested flycatcher, 1; Eastern wood pewee, 18; Empidonax species, 1; and Eastern phoebe, 97.

Yellow-throated vireo, 2; blue-headed vireo, 31; red-eyed vireo, 5; blue jay, 438; American crow, 505; fish crow, 7; and common raven, 20.

Tree swallow, 220; barn swallow, 1; Carolina chickadee, 195; tufted titmouse, 168; red-breasted nuthatch, 17; white-breasted Nuthatch, 64; and brown creeper, 3.

House wren, 3; Carolina wren, 177; blue-gray gnatcatcher, 1; golden-crowned kinglet, 5; and ruby-crowned kinglet, 4.

Eastern bluebird, 152; veery, 1; gray-cheeked thrush, 6; Swainson’s thrush, 43; wood thrush, 5; and American robin, 113.

Gray catbird, 38; brown thrasher, 9; Northern mockingbird, 80; European starling, 615; cedar waxwing, 106; and house sparrow, 37.

House finch, 42; pine siskin, 2; American goldfinch, 123; chipping sparrow, 95; field sparrow, 11; dark-eyed junco, 83; Savannah sparrow, 3; song sparrow, 84; and Eastern towhee, 62.

Eastern meadowlark, 17; red-winged blackbird, 10; brown-headed cowbird, 2; and common grackle, 10.

https://www.nps.gov/articles/blackpollmigration.htm

Ovenbird, 6; Northern waterthrush, 3; black-and-white warbler, 2; Tennessee warbler, 73; common yellowthroat, 12; hooded warbler, 13; American redstart, 10; Cape May warbler, 23; northern parula, 11; magnolia warbler, 20; bay-breasted warbler, 28; Blackburnian warbler, 5; chestnut-sided warbler, 6; blackpoll warbler, 1; black-throated blue warbler, 21; palm warbler, 21; pine warbler, 14; yellow-rumped warbler, 6; and black-throated green warbler, 15.

Scarlet tanager, 9; Northern cardinal, 169; rose-breasted grosbeak, 26; blue grosbeak, 3; and indigo bunting, 12.

Observers in this year’s Fall Bird Count included Fred Alsop, Jerry Bevins, Rob Biller, Tammy Bright, Debi and J.G. Campbell, Ron Carrico, Bill and Linda Cauley, Catherine Cummins, Dave Gardner, David and Connie Irick, Rick and Jacki Knight, Roy Knispel, Vern Maddux, Joe McGuiness, Tom McNeil, Alson Ovando, Susan Peters, Brookie and Jean Potter, Lia Prichard, Pete Range, Judith Reid, Judi Sawyer, Bryan Stevens, Kim Stroud and Charlie Warden.

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To ask a question, share a sighting or make a comment, email me at ahoodedwarbler@aol.com.

Raucous ravens, hooting owls and more contribute to the autumn soundscape

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Photo by LoggaWiggler from Pixabay • Ravens are extremely vocal birds. Captive-raised ravens have even learned words.

The spring bird chorus is deservedly famous, but the birds don’t exactly go silent in the autumn.

Although recent mornings have started out with a definite chill over the past couple of weeks since the calendar officially turned the page into fall, the birds have simply fluffed their feathers and continued with business as usual.

The birds have been active despite these morning chills that I have been somewhat reluctant to acknowledge. Carolina wrens scold from tangles of vines and weeds. As of Oct. 5, I am still hearing the soft whirr of hummingbird wings, too, although I know that the curtain’s closing on their yearly stay. Other vocalizations I’ve detected early in the day have included the rattle of a belted kingfisher at the fish pond, the quarrelsome mews of a gray catbird plucking pokeberries one at a time from an overladen plant and a vigorous Eastern Phoebe repeating its “fee-bee” name continuously from the edge of the woods.

Some other birds also make their presence known while remaining concealed from direct visual observation, including a great horned owl that regularly produces resonant, distant hoots from a nearby ridge. From the ridge behind my home, the croaks of common ravens have added a bit of a spooky vibe to fog-shrouded mornings.

Photo by Bryan Stevens • A great horned owl grasps a post with its talons. This bird was part of a show at Callaway Gardens in Georgia featuring rehabilitated raptors.

Ravens are extremely vocal birds. In addition to the harsh croaks usually associated with these birds, raven can also produce an uncanny imitation of a tinkling bell.

I’m not pulling any legs. Among their vocal repertoire, ravens can produce, usually in flight, a “bell” call. I’m not sure if this is a common vocalization. I only remember ever hearing a raven’s “bell” on a few occasions. I was with a group of more established birders at Roan Mountain State Park when a raven flew overhead. Someone called out, “Listen to that.” I listened and heard my first raven “bell” call.

The strange thing is that I can find little about this unusual vocalization when I researched the subject. According to the website All About Birds, common ravens calls vary from a low, gurgling croak to harsh grating sounds and shrill alarm calls. Scientists have placed their vocalizations into as many as 33 different categories based on sound and context. The most commonly heard is the classic gurgling croak, rising in pitch and seeming to come from the back of the throat.

The croak is their standby vocalization, which they produce often. The raven’s croak can be heard from a mile away. And, in defense of the poet Edgar Allan Poe and his “ominous bird of yore,” ravens are accomplished mimics. According to All About Birds, ravens can imitate other birds. Raven raised in captivity can even learn words. “Nevermore?”

This is the time of year when departures appear to outpace new arrivals, but there are some birds that will soon make their return after a lengthy absence, including white-throated sparrows, dark-eyed juncos and winter wrens. The local ravens, on the other hand, appear to have chosen to reside near my home year-round.

From the opening refrain of “once upon a midnight dreary” in his poem, “The Raven,” Edgar Allan Poe established a somber mood and also helped cement the dark reputation of one of North America’s most misunderstood birds. Poe describes the bird that provides the title of his famous poem with adjectives such as “grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous.” His raven also speaks, although it has the limited vocabulary of a single word, “Nevermore.”

How else does the real common raven resemble the “bird of yore” in Poe’s classic poem? For starters, the raven is an intelligent bird. Authors of a scientific study conducted about 15 years ago posited the claim that ravens and crows are just as intelligent as some of the great apes. Although parrots are more famous for the ability to mimic human speech, captive ravens have proven capable of learning more words than even the most impressive vocabulary-endowed parrots. So, Poe was not wide of the mark when he gave the gift of gab to the raven in his poem.

The sounds of autumn are definitely richer for having the croaking calls of ravens in the mix. Keep your eyes (and ears) open for new arrivals as the transition of seasons continues.

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To share a sighting, ask a question or make a comment, email me at ahoodedwarbler@aol.com.

Northern waterthrush provides warbler watching highlight

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Photo by Bryan Stevens • Even in migration, both waterthrushes like to stay near water. This Northern waterthrush was photographed along the linear trail in Erwin, Tennessee.

My usual pastime of fall warbler watching declined somewhat this season, for a variety of reasons.

Time, that commodity so rare for many of us, played a part. It’s also more difficult these days to spot the movements of these swift, energetic birds in dense foliage. A vision problem that developed this past February that I have detailed in earlier columns hampered me.

My hearing’s still good, knock on wood, and I managed to hear quite a few warblers this autumn, including hooded warbler, black-throated blue warbler and Northern waterthrush.

So, I spent less time watching for the warblers this autumn and saw fewer warblers. There’s probably a connection.

I did manage to spot a few reliable favorites. I added a Northern waterthrush on a recent misty morning with that chill in the air so associated with the transition of seasons.

This warbler produces a rather loud “chunk!” chip note that’s distinctive enough to alert birders to the presence of one of these birds.

Photo by Bryan Stevens • The Northern waterthrush, pictured, has a beige eye line rather than the white one usually shown by the Louisiana waterthrush.

With some patience, I got a decent look at the Northern waterthrush, which is a migrant through the region in both spring and fall. Northern waterthrushes frequent wet habitats with dense ground cover. In migration, even a puddle or a damp thicket is enough to attract one of these warblers. My recent sighting took place in the branches of a sprawling yew tree adjacent to a creek.

The related Louisiana waterthrush is a summer resident – and one of the first warblers to return each spring – that nests in the region. The two waterthrushes are very similar in appearance. The Louisiana waterthrush has a heavier bill and a white eye line, while the Northern waterthrush’s eye line is usually somewhat yellowish-beige. A Louisiana waterthrush typically also has a whiter belly and underparts.

The two waterthrushes are the only species in the genus Parkesia, so named to honor American ornithologist Kenneth C. Parkes, who was for many years Curator of Birds at Carnegie Museum of Natural History.

The common name of the Louisiana waterthrush is not a very apt one, as this bird does not have any special affinity for the state of Louisiana. Someone collected some of the early specimens of the Louisiana waterthrush in its namesake location, and the name has stuck through the years.

According to the website All About Birds, Northern waterthrushes are numerous, and their population has grown by an estimated 54% since 1970. Partners in Flight estimates the global breeding population at 17 million. The species rates an 8 out of 20 on the Continental Concern Score, indicating it is a species of low conservation concern.

Songbirds usually lead brief lives, but the oldest recorded Northern waterthrush was at least 8 years, 11 months old when it was recaptured and re-released during banding operations in Michigan in 1987, according to All About Birds. The bird had been banded originally in Ontario, Canada, in 1978.

Northern waterthrushes migrate through the region throughout October, so there’s still a window open for seeing one. Search near quiet water surrounded by thickets and listen for that chip note.

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To ask a question, share a sighting of make a comment, email me at ahoodedwarbler@aol.com.

Early artist and naturalist John James Audubon painted this Louisiana waterthrush.

Swainson’s thrush kicks off fall migration season

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Photo by Hans Toom/Pixabay • The Swainson’s thrush is named for 19th-century naturalist William John Swainson. A yearly visitor to the region, the bird’s appearance provides visible evidence that fall migration has started in earnest.

I like to kick off fall migration with a warbler sighting, but for a change of pace, a Swainson’s thrush showed up in my yard on Labor Day weekend.

I usually see more Swainson’s thrushes in the autumn rather than spring, so the sighting wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. My observation did provide the visible evidence that fall migration, an annual phenomenon among our feathered friends, has started in earnest.

The Swainson’s thrush does not nest in the region. These birds spend the summer breeding season in Canada, Alaska and the northern United States. They also nest in areas of the mountainous western United States.

In migration, this small thrush can be quite widespread, with sightings possible from coast to coast and all points between in the continental United States.

Thrushes that do nest during the summer in the region include wood thrush and veery, as well as the hermit thrush, which is also a winter resident.

William John Swainson, the namesake of the Swainson’s thrush, was a famous English naturalist living in the 19th century. Swainson, who grew up in London but spent much of his adult life in New Zealand, excelled as an English ornithologist, malacologist, conchologist, entomologist and artist. Besides the thrush, eight other species of birds are named in his honor.

Two of the other birds — Swainson’s warbler and Swainson’s hawk — are resident in the United States for at least the spring and summer months.

The other six species include Swainson’s francolin, Swainson’s sparrow, Swainson’s antcatcher, Swainson’s fire-eye, Swainson’s flycatcher and Swainson’s toucan.


Photo by Bryan Stevens • After striking a window, this Swainson’s thrush was given time to recover in a box in a dark, quiet place before being released to continue its migration.

In what I find a surprising twist, Swainson never visited the United States of America, but in 1806, he accompanied the English explorer Henry Koster to Brazil in South America. Swainson and his family emigrated to New Zealand in 1841. Swainson settled near the New Zealand city of Wellington, only to have earthquakes in 1848 and 1855 devastate the shoreline near his estate, which he called Hawkshead. He found the pioneer life in New Zealand difficult, especially when a native Maori chief pushed his own claims to Swainson’s estate. Swainson died of bronchitis on Dec. 6, 1855, at the age of 66.

I usually see Swainson’s thrushes every fall, but some members of the family have been harder for me to observe. I’ve only twice seen a gray-cheeked thrush. My last sighting of one took place in 2018, 18 years after my first sighting.

The species is aptly named.

The gray-cheeked thrush lacks an eye ring, and its most prominent feature is the grayish plumage around the bird’s face. No evidence of brown or buff coloration intrude into the face region.

Gray-cheeked thrushes nest far from Tennessee and Virginia. In fact, they nest almost to the very edge of the tundra region in the far north. Because of this tendency to nest in remote regions, experts have had difficulty determining population trends for this species.

Most thrush migration actually takes place at night. The daytime observations of thrushes involve individuals that have stopped for a brief respite to refuel and rest.

Both the gray-cheeked thrush and Swainson’s thrush belong to the genus Catharus, a term derived from Ancient Greek that can be described as “pure” or “clean” in reference to the plumage of some of the members of the genus.

Most of this family of talented singers, which also includes the veery and the wood thrush, will depart the borders of the United States until next spring. When they get ready to leave, most thrushes will make a remarkable non-stop journey that will take them to the region where they will wait out the cold winter months. Enjoy them before they depart.

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To share a sighting, ask a question or make a comment, email me at ahoodedwarbler@aol.com.