Tag Archives: Erwin Record

Black-throated blue warbler graces cover of club’s 2026 calendar

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The front cover of this year’s Elizabethton Bird Club calendar features a gorgeous photo of a black-throated blue warbler taken by club members David and Connie Irick.

Avoid the crowded hassle of Black Friday and get a jumpstart on your shopping list with a gift all bird lovers will enjoy for 365 days.

The Lee and Lois Herndon Chapter of Tennessee Ornithological Society, also known as the Elizabethton Bird Club, has produced its annual calendar featuring bird photographs by its members and friends of the organization.

These calendars make wonderful Christmas gifts and stocking stuffers. This year’s front cover features a gorgeous photo of a black-throated blue warbler taken by club members David and Connie Irick.

The couple recently presented a program for the local bird club that focused heavily on the warblers they saw and photographed during a visit to Magee Marsh, a 2,000-acre wildlife area located in Oak Harbor, Ohio, situated on the southern shore of Lake Erie.

During the program, David Irick admitted that before he began to pursue birding as an interest, he wasn’t even aware of the existence of warblers. Now, he and his wife are hooked on this enchanting family of colorful and energetic songbirds.

The black-throated blue warbler gracing the calendar’s cover was photographed on Holston Mountain. Male black-throated blue warblers nesting in the Appalachian Mountains have black streaks on their backs, not solid blue like other populations, according to a profile on the species located at the website for Tennessee Wildlife Resources Agency.

Photo by U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service/Mark Musselman
Black-throated Blue Warblers are among the birds than can often be found at Hampton Creek Cove during a Spring Rally.

Female black-throated blue warblers are extremely different in appearance from males. Scientists call such dramatic physical appearance differences “sexual dimorphism.” Among the warblers, this species provides the most striking example of sexual dimorphism. The male and female do share one identifying mark — a white square near the outer edge of the middle of each wing. This square is usually more pronounced in the male, but it stands out enough that it helps distinguish the female black-throated blue from similar dull-plumaged birds such as vireos.

The radical differences in appearance of male and female black-throated blues even fooled some experts, according to the TWRA profile on the species.

The “Father of American Ornithology,” Alexander Wilson (1766-1813), first described the female black-throated blue warbler, he thought it was a separate species and named it the pine swamp warbler. Several years later, when artist John James Audubon painted this bird from specimens he collected in the Great Pine Swamp of Pennsylvania, he called the species by the same name.

Learn more about warblers and other birds with a purchase of the club’s 2026 calendar. More photographs by the Iricks, as well as other members and friends of the club, grace the inside pages of the calendar. The month of July features an amazing photo of a bald eagle and November is graced by wild turkeys.

The inside pages of the professionally-produced calendar feature dozens more full-color photographs and an informative and educational grid. These calendars sell for $15 plus $2.50 for shipping. All sales help the club fund birding programs, public park feeders, conservation efforts and other bird- and nature-related activities in upper Northeast Tennessee.

For more information on how to obtain a calendar, email me at ahoodedwarbler@aol.com.

Dark-eyed juncos deserving of affectionate ‘snowbirds’ nickname

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Photo by Bryan Stevens Dark-eyed juncos are winter residents in the region.

As I mentioned in last week’s column, I published my first “Feathered Friends” on Sunday, Nov. 5, 1995.

In celebration of that milestone, here’s that first column with a few revisions that have been added over the years.

•••

Of all the birds associated with winter weather, few are as symbolic as the dark-eyed junco, or “snow bird.” The junco occurs in several geographic variations.

The cover of the classic “A Complete Guide to Bird Feeding” by John V. Dennis.

John V. Dennis, author of “A Complete Guide to Bird Feeding,” captures the essence of the junco in the following description: “Driving winds and swirling snow do not daunt this plucky bird. The coldest winter days see the junco as lively as ever and with a joie de vivre that bolsters our sagging spirits.”

The dark-eyed junco’s scientific name, hyemalis, is New Latin for “wintry,” an apt description of this bird.

Most people look forward to the spring return of some of our brilliant birds — warblers, tanagers and orioles — and I must admit that I also enjoy the arrival of these birds. The junco, in comparison to some of these species, is not in the same league. Nevertheless, the junco is handsome in its slate gray and white plumage, giving rise to the old saying “dark skies above, snow below.”

Just as neotropical migrants make long distance journeys twice a year, the junco is also a migrating species. But in Appalachia, the junco is a special type of migrant. Most people think of birds as “going south for the winter.” In a basic sense this is true. But some juncos do not undertake a long horizontal (the scientific term) migration from north to south. Instead, these birds merely move from high elevations, such as the spruce fir peaks, to the lower elevations. This type of migration is known as vertical migration. Other juncos, such as those that spend their breeding season in northern locales, do make a southern migration and, at times, even mix with the vertical migrants.

Photo by Bryan Stevens • Dark-eyed junco nests on high mountain slopes during the summer month. This dark-eyed junco was photographed at Carver’s Gap on Roan Mountain during the summer nesting season.

During the summer months, a visit to higher elevations mountaintops is almost guaranteed to produce sightings of dark-eyed juncos. Juncos may nest as many as three times in a season. A female junco usually lays three to six eggs for each nest, which she constructs without any assistance from her mate.

Juncos are usually in residence around my home by early November. Once they make themselves at home I can expect to play host to them until at least late April or early May of the following year. So, for at least six months, the snow bird is one of the most common and delightful feeder visitors a bird enthusiast could want.

Juncos flock to feeders where they are rather mild-mannered — except among themselves. There are definite pecking orders in a junco flock, and females are usually on the lower tiers of the hierarchy. Females can sometimes be distinguished from males because of their paler gray or even brown upper plumage.

Since juncos are primarily ground feeders they tend to shun hanging feeders. But one winter I observed a junco that had mastered perching on a hanging “pine cone” feeder to enjoy a suet and peanut butter mixture.

Photo by Ken Thomas • A dark-eyed junco perches on some bare branches on a winter’s day.

Dark-eyed juncos, widespread across North America, readily visit feeder but are often content to glean the scraps other birds knock to the ground. The junco is the most common species of bird to visit feeding stations. They will sample a variety of fare, but prefer such seeds as millet, cracked corn or black oil sunflower.

The juncos are a small branch of the sparrow clan. Some of the other juncos include the endangered Guadalupe junco, yellow-eyed junco, Baird’s junco and volcano junco.

The last one on the list is endemic to the Talamancan montane forests of Costa Rica and western Panama.

The endangered Guadalupe junco is confined to an island. Recent efforts to eliminate feral goats and cats from the island have shown some positive results for this species.

Baird’s junco is named for Spencer Fullerton Baird, an American ornithologist and naturalist. Baird served as secretary for the Smithsonian Institution from 1878 until his death in 1887. He greatly expanded the natural history collections of the Smithsonian from 6,000 specimens in 1850 to over two million by the time of his death.

I hope you’ve enjoyed this introduction to juncos. There’s something about winter that makes a junco’s dark and light garb an appropriate and even striking choice, particularly against a backdrop of newly fallen snow.

Of course, the real entertainment value of juncos comes from their frequent visits to our backyard feeders. When these birds flock to a feeder and begin a frenzied bout of feeding, I don’t even have to glance skyward or tune in the television weather forecast. I know what they know. Bad weather is on the way!

••••

I’ve not seen the first junco of the season, but I have observed some other late-autumn migrants, including ruby-crowned kinglets and a swamp sparrow.

If you’d like to share your first sighting this season of dark-eyed juncos, email me at ahoodedwarbler@aol.com. As always, the column is also a line of communication with fellow bird enthusiasts. I’ve enjoyed sharing stories about birds with countless readers over the past 30 years. I can also be reached on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/ahoodedwarbler.

Photo by Bryan Stevens Dark-eyed juncos embrace feeders when weather takes a turn for the worse.

Celebrating 30 years of birds, birding and birders

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Photo by Bryan Stevens A burrowing owl perches on a sign at Antelope Island State Park in Utah in May 2006.

For the past 29 years, I’ve published my first bird column as close to the anniversary date of its initial publication as possible.

I’m not doing that this year. Instead, in a celebration of writing “Feathered Friends” on a weekly basis for the past 30 years, I am devoting this week’s column to personal reflection.

Has it truly been 30 years? It’s the question I’ve asked myself as the date on the calendar approached, marking 30 years since I began writing my weekly “Feathered Friends” column. The column made its debut in the Elizabethton Star’s Sunday lifestyles section, but since that debut on Nov. 5, 1995, the column has appeared in most of the newspapers in the region, plus a couple in North Carolina.

The column ran from 1999 to 2003 in the Herald & Tribune in Jonesborough and began running in The Erwin Record in 2003. It has mostly run each week in Unicoi County’s weekly newspaper since that time. The column began another run in the Elizabethton Star from 2008 to 2014, followed by a run in the Bristol Herald Courier, as well as in Six Rivers Media publications such as The Tomahawk in Mountain City, as well as Johnson City Press and Kingsport Times.

The column went online via WordPress in 2014 and is still posted weekly on Sundays at ourfinefeatheredfriends.com. I’m still staggered by the fact I’ve been writing this column on a weekly basis for 30 years. Readers have followed my accomplishments in birding, including detailed columns every time I’ve added a new species to my life list.

Photo by Bryan Stevens A long-billed curlew calls in a grassland at Utah’s Antelope Island State Park in May 2006.

Those special columns have included birds such as burrowing owl, long-billed curlew, roseate spoonbill, black-necked stilt, Nelson’s sparrow, black rail, swallow-tailed kite, Mississippi kite, grey-cheeked thrush, limpkin, least bittern, American bittern, painted bunting, lazuli bunting, golden eagle, American dipper, Townsend’s solitaire, mourning warbler, clay-colored sparrow, black-headed grosbeak, Western tanager, Northern saw-whet owl, bananaquit and many other memorable species. Just this past summer I added scissor-tailed flycatcher when I observed a female of this species nesting in Jonesborough.

I’ve added several hummingbirds to my list over the years, including Cuban emerald and Bahama woodstar from a trip to the Bahamas in 2000, and black-chinned hummingbird and broad-winged hummingbird from a trip to Utah. I saw a far out-of-range green-breasted mango in Charlotte, North Carolina, and traveled to Nashville to see a Calliope hummingbird, which is also the smallest of North American birds. In Northeast Tennessee, I’ve seen numerous rufous hummingbirds and a couple of Allen’s hummingbirds, both of which are western species with a perplexing habit of migration through the region and showing up in unlikely locations.

Photo by Bryan Stevens A mountain bluebird at Sweetwater Trailer Park and Campground at Garden City, Utah, on the shores of Bear Lake. Despite the sign, this location was certainly no “dead end” when it came to birding.

Even more than the birds, however, are the people I’ve met through this weekly column. I’ve been able to share stories about birding with people like Howard Langridge, Reece Jamerson, Gilbert Derouen and Wallace Coffey. They’re all gone now, but I have my memories of our time together looking for and finding some memorable birds.

I’ve met people like Brookie and Jean Potter, Tess Cumbie, Gary Wallace, Barbara Lake, Rick Knight, Joe McGuinness, Charles Moore, Fred Alsop, Allan Trently, Brenda Richards, Chris Soto, Rob Biller and Brayden Paulk. I’ve left out names because in all honesty there are too many to list. I’ve shared stories about Tom and Cathy McNeil, a couple who have chased rare birds such as buff-breasted sandpiper, snowy owl and hurricane-displaced American flamingos.

I’ve had adventures. I got stuck in mud at Musick’s Campground with Howard Langridge at Holston Lake as Hurricane Frances passed through the region in 2004, but we got a sooty tern!

Photo by Bryan Stevens A least bittern slips through marsh vegetation at Huntington Beach State Park in South Carolina.

While birding with Reece Jamerson at Austin Springs on Boone Lake, an American bittern walked up to us from a flooded ditch, absolutely fearless, and got so close we didn’t even need binoculars. Of course, we also hadn’t brought cameras.

I stood in freezing conditions for hours with dozens of birders in 2009 Springfield, Tennessee, scanning a field littered with plastic and other debris hoping for a glimpse of a reported snowy owl. Just as everyone was ready to give up hope, the owl, present all along, transformed from a white plastic bag into a fully feathered owl. It even made a short flight as if to reward everyone for their patience.

Visiting Antelope Island State Park in the middle of the Great Salt Lake in May 2006 with David Thometz and his parents, we saw many birds, the highlight being a long-billed curlew. We were driving on a road bordering a huge expanse of grassland facing the Great Salt Lake. I remarked that this looked like great habitat — I had done my homework in advance – for long-billed curlews. The words had barely left my mouth when we heard some whistled notes and saw my first-ever (and, to date, only) long-billed curlew. Even better, I managed to get a photo of the bird. We also saw thousands of horned grebes, as well as a photogenic burrowing owl, Western meadowlarks, chukars, lark sparrows and many other interesting species. Later during that same trip while traveling through Logan Canyon near Salt Lake City, I was mesmerized by an American dipper and then some Townsend’s solitaires that crowded into the scene.

Photo by Bryan Stevens A painted bunting visits feeders at Huntington Beach State Park.

On a November visit to Boone Dam with Wallace Coffey, we scanned a flock of gulls on a sandbar. When these white birds suddenly dispersed, one larger white bird that stayed behind became my first-ever sighting of a snow goose. I think Wallace’s excitement that I had gotten a life bird was even greater than my own.

Of course, my birding memories go farther back than these 30 years I’ve been writing this column. I remember the yellow birds (American goldfinches), the red birds (Northern cardinals) and blue birds (Indigo buntings) that visited each summer of my childhood. I can still hear the nocturnal serenades of whip-poor-wills that called from the woodlands while I saw on the front porch with my paternal grandparents at their home. The headlights of passing vehicles would silence them momentarily, but then one would begin calling again, and soon others rejoined the chorus. When lighting bugs added their visuals to the audio, we had all the makings of a perfect evening in the pre-Internet era.

To offer perspective, my column got its start with a feature on dark-eyed juncos, also known as “snowbirds.” With the recent dip in temperatures, I have a feeling it won’t be long before we start seeing these winter visitors.

I’ve got some plans for digging up some vintage columns as I celebrate 30 years of writing this column during 2026. There may be some other special surprises. Stay tuned and thanks to all who have read these columns over the years.

Photo by Bryan Stevens
Two Black-necked Stilts forage along the causeway wetland at Huntington Beach State Park.

 

Hollywood, not nature, casts feathered friends in villainous light

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Willgard Krause from Pixabay

NOTE: This is a revised version of a column that originally ran in November of 2018.

The ultimate coma victim is the fabled zombie, but that’s not likely to afflict any of our feathered friends, right? Well, consider the great tits of Hungary, which are relatives of our tufted titmouse and Carolina chickadee. These birds — at least the Hungarian ones — have apparently acquired a taste for brains.

Not human brains, thankfully. The victims of these brain-hungry great tits are a species of bat — a flying creature often associated with the modern celebration of Halloween, as well as legends about vampires — that shared the habitat of these birds in the Bükk Mountains of Hungary. As it turns out, the tits only hunted bats, in this case a tiny species known as common pippistrelle, out of dire necessity.

Pixabay Great tits have been documented hunting, killing and then eating the brains of small bats.

Bat ecologists Péter Estók and Björn M. Siemers, after observing the odd behavior of the great tits during some winter seasons, conducted a study to see if great tits are consistent devourers of bats’ brains. They discovered that the birds did hunt the bats and had even learned to detect a special call the bats make as they emerge from hibernation. The ecologists conducted their study over two years and learned that the great tits teach others of their kind the special art of hunting bats. They also learned that the birds made efficient killers, dragging the bats from their roosts and cracking their skulls to get at their brains.

However, when provided with plenty of alternative food, including such favorite items as bacon and sunflower seeds, the great tits chose to eat these items rather than actively hunt bats. The researchers concluded that great tits only resort to harvesting the brains of small bats during times of scarcity during harsh winters. The bizarre story is even featured in the title of a fascinating book by Becky Crew titled “Zombie Birds, Astronaut Fish, and Other Weird Animals.”

So, if humans have nothing to fear from brain-hungry birds, are there any birds that we should fear? Some experts suggest that precautions might be in order if a person comes into close proximity with a southern cassowary, which is the third-tallest and second-heaviest living bird, smaller only than the ostrich and emu.

Photo by lailajuliana / Pixabay.com • The southern cassowary reaches a height of more than five feet and weighs 120 pounds. The bird has a fearsome but perhaps undeserved reputation for attacks on humans.

The cassowary, a native of New Guinea and northeastern Australia, has developed a reputation as a fearsome bird capable of injuring or killing humans. Cassowaries deserve their reputation, according to ornithologist Ernest Thomas Gilliard. In his 1958 book, “Living Birds of the World,” he explained that the second of the three toes of a cassowary is fitted with a long, straight, dagger-like claw which can sever an arm or eviscerate an abdomen with ease. According to Gilliard, there have been many records of natives being killed by this bird.

A thorough study, however, has partly exonerated the cassowary from these misdeeds. In a total of 150 documented attacks against humans, cassowaries often acted in self-defense or in defense of a nest or chicks. The only documented death of a human took place in 1926 when two teenaged brothers attacked a cassowary with clubs. The 13-year-old brother received a serious kick from the bird, but he survived. His 16-year old brother tripped and fell during the attack, which allowed the cassowary to kick him in the neck and sever the boy’s jugular vein.

So we can rest easier knowing that murderous birds that reach a height of almost six feet tall are unlikely to terrorize us should we travel to the lands down under. A more ancient relative of the cassowary, however, might have been a different story had humans lived during the same time period.

An illustration of Gastornis (Terror Bird) on a river’s edge. Gastornis are an extinct genus of large flightless birds that lived during the late Paleocene and Eocene epochs of the Cenozoic era. They grew to a height of 6.6 feet.

Phorusrhacids, also known as “terror birds,” were a group of large carnivorous flightless birds that once had some members reign as an apex predator in South America before they went extinct around two million years ago. The tallest of the terror birds reached a height of almost 10 feet. Titanis walleri, one of the larger species, even ranged into what is now the United States in Texas and Florida.

Terror birds were equipped with large, sharp beaks, powerful necks and sharp talons. Their beaks, which would have been used to kill prey, were attached to exceptionally large skulls. Despite their fearsome appearance, these birds probably fed on prey about the size of rabbits. Perhaps not knowing this, Hollywood has cast these birds as monsters in such films as 2016’s “Terror Birds” and 2008’s “10,000 BC.”

Regardless, the casting of birds as film villains had already been done back in 1963 when Alfred Hitchcock released his film, “The Birds,” based loosely on a short story by Daphne du Maurier. The film, which starred some big Hollywood names such as Rod Taylor, Tippi Hedren, Jessica Tandy, Suzanne Pleshette and Veronica Cartwright, cast a whole new light on a “murder” of crows. Today, the film has achieved the status of a Hollywood classic.

There’s also the tale of the ancient Greek playwright Aeschylus, who died around 456 BC in Sicily, possibly the only known victim of a bird dropping a heavy weight on a human being. According to ancient accounts mentioned by Pliny the Elder in his “Natural History,” Aeschylus was said to have been killed by a tortoise dropped by an eagle after the bird mistook the playwright’s bald head for a stone it could use to crack open the tortoise’s shell. However, this intriguing tale is, alas, likely only a myth. Most scholars have dismissed the account as an embellished, apocryphal story.

I guess we will have to look to Hollywood’s werewolves, zombies and other supernatural monsters for our Halloween chills and thrills instead of our fine feathered friends.

Photo by cocoparisienne/Pixabay.com • A crow lands on a spooky scarecrow at sunset.

Why do owls give a hoot? For many reasons

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Dave Menke/USFWS Great horned owls, such as this individual, are effective predators after dark.

As September slid into October, the evening serenades began. At first, they consisted of a pair of Eastern screech-owls calling from the surrounding woodlands. On Oct. 2, the low hoots of a great horned owl joined the wailing calls of the two screech-owls.

I’ve gotten into the habit of 10-minute walks in the evening after dinner, and I posted about the owls on my Facebook account.

Several friends responded, including Tom McNeil, a fellow birders and an fellow alumna of Hampton High School.

“We’ve been hearing a pair (of great horned owls) hooting up on the ridge between you and us,” Tom wrote. “We also had a barred owl calling a few weeks ago, which was only the second time ever.”

Tom and his wife, Cathy, reside in the Piney Grove community of Hampton. As he indicated, only a steep mountain ridge separates his property from mine.

That ridge is a magnet for birds, ranging from pileated woodpeckers and wild turkeys to warblers, vireos, tanagers, flycatchers and many other songbirds. The bird population changes with the seasons, but there’s always a diversity of birds making their home on those wooded slopes.

Linda Cauley also responded to my Facebook post, sharing that she also had recently heard a great horned owl.

Larry A. Woodward/USFWS Eastern screech-owl chicks peer from the tree cavity that served as their first home.

Kaylynn Sanford Wilster has also been hearing a great horned owl. “First great horned owl I’ve had here in forever it seems like,” she wrote. “I think there’s just one but I’m not sure.”

Joanne Campbell commented on my post.

“We had a big hoot owl right outside our door last week,” Joanne wrote. “Closest I’ve ever been to one.”

I’d been surprised to hear screech-owls, which are considerably smaller than a great horned owl, calling at the same time as their larger kin. Great horned owls are not finicky and will dine on any smaller creature they can seize in their strong talons. I’d heard that smaller owls usually go silent in the presence of this large nocturnal predator.

Of course, the screech-owls were relatively close to my home while the great horned owl’s calls were notably distant. Perhaps they felt that enough space existed between them to ease any worries.

I also got to wondering why owls are so vocal. A little research came up with some answers.

First, it’s important to note that Eastern screech-owls produce different vocalizations for various purposes. One of my favorites is the “whinny,” a descending call that is, apparently, a territorial display to inform other owls that they have claimed a territory as their own.

At this time of the year, juvenile screech-owls are also striking out on their own away from parental care. These young owls deploy the whinny to establish their own territories. They will need a well-defined territory to ensure they can find enough prey during the lean, cold winter months.

The whinny itself is of short duration, lasting only a couple of seconds. Screech-owls also produce other sounds, which have been described as hoots, barks and squeal.

Another common screech-owl vocalization is an even-pitched trill, often called a “bounce song” or tremolo. I can do a decent job imitating this sound, and I’ve often stirred up songbirds by doing so. A flock will sometimes materialize as if from thin air, as the members of the flock scold and search for the owl. It’s a good way to draw some curious birds closer for observation.

Bryan Stevens Lucy, a rehabilitated owl, helps programmers at Brookgreen Gardens provide educational programs about owls to the public.

Great horned owls, or “hoot owls” as they are widely known, also produce their low, nocturnal calls for many of the same reasons as screech-owls do. These large owls hoot to communicate, with the most common reasons being to define and defend territory, locate and attract a mate during breeding season and stay in contact with their young. Hooting also helps them establish boundaries with other owls and signals their presence, making their calls particularly energetic and frequent in the autumn and winter months when territories are being set up.

Pairs of great horned owls will hoot together as part of their courtship to strengthen their bond. A female owl’s voice is notably higher in pitch than the male’s, according to the website All About Birds. I’m hoping I will soon hear the duet that Tom and Cathy are enjoying on the other side of the ridge. So far, I’ve only detected the one great horned owl. I have heard these mesmerizing duets in the past, however. Listening can produce shivers down the spine. Of course, that is also helped by the fact they most often hoot on evenings once the weather had become more chilly.

The days are shorter, nights are longer, so now is a great time to get familiar with the owls. It can be as easy as stepping onto the front porch and listening.

•••

Bryan Stevens has been writing about birds, birding and birders since 1995. To share a sighting, ask a question or make a comment, email him at ahoodedwarbler@aol.com.

Photo by Irene K-s/Pixabay.com
An Eastern screech owl keeps an eye on its surroundings.

Broad-winged hawk is region’s migratory raptor

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COURTNEY CELLEY/USFWS • A broad-winged hawk perches with a snake in its talons.

I’ve been seeing a few birds that qualify as fall migrants, but there have been some other birds in the mix, such as red-shouldered hawk.

In the last five years or so, red-shouldered hawk has become a year-round resident. But I hadn’t seen or heard one of these hawk since early summer, so I’m not sure if this individual was a resident or simply one passing through during this time of flux for our feathered friends.

Migration by its nature stirs up birds, which may pop into some unexpected places for a pit-stop on their travel route.

Other birds I’ve seen or heard recently include broad-winged hawk, Eastern wood-pewee, Northern waterthrush, hooded warbler, gray catbird, blue jay, American goldfinch, American crow, common raven, great blue heron and Eastern phoebe, as well as ruby-throated hummingbird and three woodpecker species: Downy, pileated and red-bellied.

The hawks, however, got my attention. The broad-winged hawk, known scientifically as Buteo platypterus, thrills onlookers every September by staging phenomenal migratory flights that can include hundreds or thousands of individual birds. The term “platypterus” translates from Greek as “wide winged.”

Outside of birding circles, however, the broad-winged hawk is not nearly as widely known for its migratory feats as, for example, the monarch butterfly or Eastern North America’s ruby-throated hummingbird. When time to migrate, these hawks form large flocks, which also include other raptor species. “Hawk watches” are held at some famous peaks. A Mendota Hawk Watch is conducted ever fall on Clinch Mountain near an abandoned fire tower close to Mendota, Virginia.

Larry McDaniel with the Bristol Bird Club reported that the watch this season has been productive.

“The Mendota Hawk Watch is going strong with good coverage and lots of raptors,” he wrote in a Facebook post on Sept. 19. “There have already been over 3.600 broad-wings reported and we are just now getting into the statistical peak. The show will be over by late September, so get up there while the birds are still flying.”

Other famous “hawk watch” locations in the eastern United States include Whitefish Point in Michigan and Hawk Ridge, Minnesota. Closer to home, I’ve seen sizeable flocks, or kettles, of broad-winged hawks, on occasion in the company of other raptors, on Holston Mountain and Roan Mountain.

The genus Buteo includes the broad-winged hawk’s larger kin, including red-tailed hawk, rough-legged hawk, red-shouldered hawk and ferruginous hawk. Outside the United States, raptors in the buteo genus are often known as “buzzards.” When the first European colonists came to the New World, they applied the term buzzard to both types of native vultures as well as the large raptors like Swainson’s hawk that reminded them of the ones back in Europe such as the common buzzard.

Some of the buteo species have adapted to life on islands, including the Galapagos hawk and the Hawaiian hawk. There’s an endangered sub-species of broad-winged hawk known as the Puerto Rican broad-winged hawk that resides in forests on the island of Puerto Rico.

Some of these hawks have quite descriptive names, including the white-throated hawk, gray-lined hawk, zone-tailed hawk and short-tailed hawk, as well as long-legged buzzard, jackal buzzard and red-necked buzzard.

The broad-winged hawk, like all of its kin, is a predatory bird. These medium-sized hawks prey primarily on rodents, amphibians and insects, but they will also capture and eat snakes. They take some time to prepare prey after making a capture. In the case of snakes and frogs, these hawks “skin” their victims.

Many of our hawks are resident throughout the year, but the broad-winged hawk only spends the spring and summer. Look for them now. They won’t return until late April and early May in 2026.

•••

Bryan Stevens has written about birds, birders and birding since 1995. Share a sighting, ask a question or make a comment by emailing him at ahoodedwarbler@aol.com.

Birds with different spring and fall looks challenge birders

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Photo by Bryan Stevens • A young male Rose-breasted Grosbeak visits a feeder in September of 2013. Young males resemble females but show a splash of orange on the breast that will be replaced the following spring by the familiar rosy-red patch.

My favorite season is fall. I’m always excited when birds return in the spring, but I have better luck observing fall migrants.

There’s a trade-off, however. Many birds don’t look their best by the time autumn migration rolls around. Take the male indigo bunting, for instance. This species is the only solid blue bird in the eastern United States, but it’s all an illusion — literally a trick of the light.

The indigo bunting’s feathers are not really blue; the male’s brilliant azure plumage is caused by the process of diffraction of light around the structure of the bird’s feathers. This process scatters all but the blue light, and the resulting color shifts from black to blue to turquoise as the angle of reflected light changes. In bright light, it can even look unnaturally vivid blue. In poor light, however, an indigo bunting male can appear black. Fortunately, indigo buntings have both a characteristic body shape and song, so even if the birds are not seen in their best light, they can still be recognized.

Photo by Bryan Stevens • Male indigo buntings look their best when they arrive each spring. They most over the summer, giving fall males a blotchy plumage of brown with some hints of blue remaining..

For such a bright blue bird, indigo buntings are not easy to detect. When that plumage gets mottled with brown patches in fall, these birds blend even better with their backgrounds.

The indigo bunting belongs to a genus of birds known as Passerina, which is included the family Cardinalidae, which includes birds like Northern cardinal and rose-breasted grosbeak. They are often lumped into a group known as North American buntings, although they are not closely related to such birds as snow bunting and lark bunting. The latter is even recognized as the official state bird for Colorado, a unique honor for this group of birds. The other members of the Passerina genus include lazuli bunting, varied bunting, painted bunting, rose-bellied bunting, orange-breasted bunting and blue grosbeak.

Indigo buntings linger into early October, but they also molt feathers and take on a less showy look in late summer and fall. Even the males can end up looking rather shabby compared to a spring counterpart in electric blue plumage.

The rose-breasted grosbeak, or at least adult males of the species, are birds that can take one’s breath away when observed in spring when the birds first return from their tropical wintering grounds. By fall, however, even adult males have lost some of the crisp black-and-white plumage and the rosy coloration on the breast often fades to dull orange.

In fall, the rose-breasted grosbeak migrates south to a winter range that spans central Mexico, Central America and northern South America. As they depart, many will make stops in yards with feeders to partake of offerings of sunflower seeds. So, if you didn’t get to see these showy birds in the spring, local bird enthusiasts get another chance to see them in this month and into October.

Photo by Bryan Stevens • Some of the Rose-breasted Grosbeaks migrating through this fall still retain some of their rosy color.

The male rose-breasted grosbeak gives this species it name. Males are the epitome of the birds that make their home for part of the year in the American tropics. The contrasting black and white plumage is emphasized by a triangular slash of rosy-red color on the breast. Put all those elements together and the male rose-breasted grosbeak is not a bird that would be mistaken for any other.

The female grosbeak, however, doesn’t stand out in the same way. She is much less colorful than the male. With her brown and white plumage, she is often mistaken for a large sparrow or finch. At this time of year, however, all rose-breasted grosbeaks: Adult males, adult females and young birds born this past summer can look dull. The best way to identify them is by focusing on the beak. That large, sturdy beak gives this species the other part of its name. “Gros” is a German word for big, so the name basically means “big beak.”

A fall appearance at odds with how a bird looks in the spring is also true of the scarlet tanager. The vibrant red and black spring males may look yellow or greenish-yellow once the acquire their fall and winter plumage. It’s not all that surprising. The males no longer have to impress females with their splendid coloration once the nesting season’s concluded.

The warblers, my absolute favorite family of birds, are famous for looking different in the fall. Long ago, someone coined the phrase “confusing fall warblers” since many young birds and even adult birds in fall plumage can look different than spring birds.

Photo by Bryan Stevens • The appearance of yellow-throated warblers does not change much from spring to autumn.

To identify confusing fall warblers, focus on features that remain consistent in their drabber autumn plumage, such as bill shape, leg color, tail patterns, wing bars and subtle facial markings. Learning the foraging behaviors of the various species can also be helpful.

Some of the warblers that look much different in fall includes species like magnolia warbler, Tennessee warbler, chestnut-sided warbler and Cape May warbler. Other species, such as hooded warbler, ovenbird and Northern waterthrush don’t change all that much with the seasons.

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Bryan Stevens is the managing editor of The Erwin Record. He has written about birds, birders and birding since 1995. To ask a question, make a comment or share a sighting, email him at ahoodedwarbler@aol.com.

Gray catbird’s personality veers from shyness to curiosity

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Photo by Bryan Stevens • A gray catbird perches in a mimosa tree. These birds alternate between extreme shyness and determined curiosity.

Catbirds are experts at concealing themselves from prying eyes. This birds charcoal gray plumage blends into the shadowy sections of tangles and thickets where the bird likes to hide itself.

However, even when gray catbirds are reluctant to be seen, they’re almost eager to be heard. The catbird is extremely vocal with several calls and songs in its repertoire, including the rather faithful rendering of a fussy cat’s meow that provides this bird its common name.

This is also a bird with strong curiosity. Despite its retiring nature, curiosity often wins out, as demonstrated when I had a front porch “conversation” with a catbird on a recent morning.

The named catbird came from the fact that this mimic, related to mockingbirds and thrashers, has an uncanny vocalisation that sounds just like a cat’s meow.

Photo by Bryan Stevens • A gray catbird emerged from cover long enough to have its photo taken.

I’m not particularly good at bird imitations. I can do a decent imitation of Eastern screech owls. I’ve even succeeded at getting these small owls to call back, and I’ve incited a mob of small songbirds, convinced that a “real” owl has gotten far too close for comfort.

And I can also do a passable imitation of the catbirds “meow” vocalization, which I proceeded to spontaneously do as I stood on my front porch on a cool early September morning listening to a gray catbird hidden in the dense foliage of a blooming althea, also known as a “rose of Sharon.”

Every time the catbird meowed, I meowed back. The intervals sped up. Within a short time, the bird popped into view, the better to get a look at me. That’s when something remarkable happened. Clearly still in the bird’s view, I called back. The bird called and continued to stare at me, albeit nervously, from its perch. We continued to converse, although I’m not really sure what we were discussing. I claim to be able to imitate the bird’s language, not understand it. Despite what must have been a strong urge to dive back into cover, the bird continued to remain in the open and meow back every time I returned its meow with one of my own.

Only when I moved to go back inside did the bird plunge back into dense cover. Even as I stepped back inside the house, the catbird continued to meow.

This species is part of a family related to thrushes that are known as “mimic thrushes.” Besides its surprisingly accurate rendition of a feline, the catbird has several other common vocalizations. Despite a shy nature, they’re extremely curious. Imitating their calls or simply producing a squeaky sound will usually persuade the bird to move out of cover and search for the source of the noise.

Photo by Bryan Stevens • The gray catbird resides in Northeast Tennessee April through October, although there are a few winter records for the species. Most depart in fall, choosing to spend the winter months in more hospitable locations.

Catbirds are part of the parade of the departing birds like rose-breasted grosbeaks, scarlet tanagers, Baltimore orioles and indigo buntings that will soon wing their way south for the winter.

Because they lack the brilliant plumages of some of these other summer visitors, catbirds could often go unnoticed if not for the fact they are extremely noisy.

Although the catbird is related to thrashers and mockingbirds, scientists find them just different enough to warrant placing the gray catbird in its own genus. A relative known as the black catbird, which ranges throughout the Yucatan Peninsula of Mexico as well as northern Guatemala and northern Belize, also belongs to a genus of its own. Both catbirds are classified as “mimic thrushes,” or Mimidae, of which there are about 30 species in the New World. There is also a totally unrelated family of catbirds that ranges through Australia, Asia and parts of Africa. Some of these birds include the ochre-breasted catbird, tooth-billed catbird and spotted catbird.

The gray catbird is not as an accomplished mimic as some of its relatives, such as the Northern mockingbird. Nevertheless, experts have documented that the gray catbird can produce more than 100 different sounds. Males have motivation to constantly expand their repertoire, however, as doing so increases the likelihood of attracting a mate. They imitate other birds, but some have been recorded imitating frogs and other non-avian singers.

Photo by Bryan Stevens A curious Gray Catbird peeks from dense cover. Attendees at the fall rally can look for catbirds and other species at any of the offered bird hikes.

While not generally considered a bird to visit feeders, people have succeeded in attracting catbirds to feeders designed to offer grape jelly or orange slices. Planting fruit-bearing shrubs and trees is the best means of attracting these fascinating birds to your yard and garden. It’s also best not to clear away brush and tangles from your yard if you wish to attract catbirds. These are shy birds and will avoid areas that are too open and brightly lit.

An occasional catbird lingers in the region into the winter season, but most head out for more comfortable climates by the end of October. Enjoy this entertaining bird while you can but know they’ll return without fail next spring in April and May.

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Bryan Stevens has written about birds, birding and birders since 1995. Ask a question, share a sighting or make a comment by emailing him at ahoodedwarbler@aol.com.ahoodedwarbler@aol.com

Diminutive green heron flies beneath the radar but is not uncommon

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Photo by Bryan Stevens • A green heron captures a tadpole at a pond’s edge.

Retrieving the mail from my mailbox requires a slight trek, but there’s always something to see in the few minutes it takes to complete this task six out of seven days every week.

On a recent stroll to fetch the mail I startled a green heron from the vegetation surrounding the fish pond. The heron made a startled cry and flew to a horizontal branch in a tree adjacent to the pond.

It’s been so long since I’ve seen this small wading bird up close that I’d forgotten its diminutive nature. Although the official name is green heron, I’ve almost always referred to this species as “little green heron” or simply “little green.” It’s not completely uncalled for. After all, there’s a little blue heron. As far as my research tells me, however, there is no great green heron.

Photo by Bryan Stevens • Upcoming programs in the region will focus on topics such as songbirds, raptors and the basics of beginning birdwatching. Plan to attend one or more of the programs to learn more about birds, such as this green heron.

Green herons are not restricted to coastal areas, but it was still somewhat unexpected. I’m hoping I didn’t frighten the bird too badly and it will continue to haunt the edges of the fish pond. The vegetation around the pond makes it easy for this heron to conceal itself. The pond is also a great place for the heron to forage. There’s an abundance of some of its favorite prey, including tadpoles and dragonflies.

Green herons and other wading birds are usually quite abundant in wetlands across the country in late summer. The scientific name — Butorides virescens – of this bird comes from a mix of Middle English and Ancient Greek and roughly translates as “greenish bittern.”

There are only two other species in the genus Butorides — the lava heron, which occurs on some of the Galapagos Islands of Ecuador, and the striated heron, which is found in wetlands throughout the Old World tropics from West Africa to Japan and Australia. This heron, which is also known as the mangrove heron, also occurs in South America.

The green in the bird’s plumage appears as a dark green cap, as well as a greenish back and wings. Adult birds also have chestnut-colored neck feathers and a line of white feathers along the throat and belly. These herons often assume a hunched position, making them look smaller than they actually are.

It’s been a good summer for wading birds. In addition to the green heron, a great blue heron has been lurking in the creekand at the fish pond. Much larger than the green heron, it’s not as easy for the great blue heron to escape notice.

Other locations to look for both these herons are at the pond at Erwin Fishery Park. You’ll also want to keep alert when walking along the linear trail in Erwin. This is the time of year when interesting herons or egrets are not all that scarce.

Farm ponds in the countryside around Jonesborough, as well as wetland habitat around the town’s Persimmon Ridge Park, are also good places to look for green herons. The wetlands at Sugar Hollow Park in Bristol, Virginia, is another dependable location for seeing this small heron. Most green herons will depart in late September and early October. This small heron retreats from the United States during the winter season but returns each spring in April and May.

Photo by Bryan Stevens • A green heron finesses a captured tadpole in its bill.

The green heron’s range during the nesting season includes Canada and much of the United States. Green herons will sometimes form loose nesting colonies, but at other times a pair will choose a secluded location as a nest site. The female will usually lay from three to five eggs. Snakes, raccoons and other birds such as crows and grackles are potential threats to eggs.

For the most part, the population migrates to Central and South America for the winter months. A few herons — great blue heron and black-crowned night heron — remain in the region throughout the year, even enduring the cold winter months in Northeast Tennessee, Southwest Virginia and Western North Carolina.

Green herons are probably more common than we realize. They are skilled at blending with their surroundings, but sharp eyes can find these herons around almost any body of water, whether it is pond, marsh, river, creek or lake.

Keep looking for green herons and their larger kin for the next few months. To share a sighting, ask a question or make a comment, send me an email at ahoodedwarbler@aol.com.

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Bryan Stevens is the managing editor of The Erwin Record. He has written about birds, birding and birders since 1995.

Photo by Bryan Stevens • A green heron hunches next to a pond.

 

Birds boast phenomenal knack for long-distance travel

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Hans Toom/Pixabay • The blackpoll warbler has one of the more difficult and lengthy migrations of the family of warblers.

The phenomenon of migration isn’t exclusive to the neotropical migrants of the New World. Birds in other parts of the world migrate, too. Waterfowl, shorebirds and raptors are among some of the families of birds that stage impressive migrations.

Of course, I spent most of my birding within Tennessee, particularly in the Northeast Tennessee region. Since the Volunteer State has no access to the sea, it is sometimes amazing how many birds affiliated with coastal areas can be found if you know when and where to look. Fall’s a good time to scan lakeshores, river banks and the edges of farm ponds for migrating shorebirds and wading birds.

I discussed last week some of the species I hope to see this fall. Every time I see some of these migrants I am impressed by what a phenomenal feat each and every single one of these birds represents. As my mother is fond of asking: “How do they do it?”

For such relatively small creatures, many if our birds are world-class travelers. Here are a few profiles of some of these incredible migrants.

Photo by U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service/Kirk Rogers • The Arctic tern is a world champion among migrating birds.

 

One good tern deserves another

The Arctic tern, for example, truly takes migration to extremes. This small seabird travels each year from its Arctic nesting grounds to the Antarctic region, where it spends the winter months. Put into terms of mileage, the Arctic tern can travel about 50,000 miles in a single year. For a bird with a body length of about 15 inches and a wingspan of about 28 inches, this incredible migration is an astonishing feat. These statistics permit the Arctic tern to easily lay claim to the title of champion migrant among our feathered friends. According to the website for National Geographic, Arctic terns face a serious threat from climate change. In a profile on the tern at its website, National Geographic warns that Arctic terns are projected to lose 20 to 50 percent of their habitat due to the temperature changes linked to climate change. They also face loss of habitat due to encroachment by human activities such as oil drilling.

Photo by Bryan Stevens • Despite a perceived disadvantage of size, ruby-throated hummingbirds are quite capable of thriving in a giant world.

Size matters less than we think

The ruby-throated hummingbird makes an impressive migration each year. It’s even more awesome when one considers the diminutive size of these small travelers. Just to reach the United States, these tiny birds undertake a strenuous journey. They leave their wintering grounds in Central America to return to the United States and Canada for the nesting season. Most of these tiny birds, which are barely four inches long, make a non-stop flight of more than 500 miles across the Gulf of Mexico. The journey can take almost an entire day. With the end of summer, the entire population of ruby-throated hummingbirds, increased by a new generation of young birds, makes the Gulf crossing for a second time in a year to return to the American tropics for the winter months.

Photo by U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service/Steve Maslowski The bar-tailed godwit stages migrations that can take nine days of non-stop flight spanning nearly 6,000 miles.

 

Godwits, by Jove!

Shorebirds, which in North America can consist of birds ranging from turnstones and sandpipers to willets and avocets, are champion migrants. For instance, the bar-tailed godwit makes an impressive non-stop migratory flight. This shorebird nests in the United States only in parts of remote Alaska, but this godwit also ranges into Scandinavia and northern Asia. Some of these godwits make a nine-day, non-stop migratory flight that takes them from New Zealand to the Yellow Sea of China and beyond, a distance of almost 6,000 miles each way. Needless to say, since the godwits make no stops along the way, they must also go without food for the duration of their journey. The female godwit is larger than the male, but she still weighs only 12 ounces. The long-billed, long-legged bird is about 17 inches in length from the tip of the bill to its tail. That a creature so small can make such a distant, arduous trip and be the none the worse for wear is truly inspiring.

Bryan Stevens • A broad-winged hawk perches in a woodland in the Southern Appalachians.

A fine kettle of hawks

Many North American raptors migrate, but the broad-winged hawk dislikes the lonely aspects of solitary travel. Instead, these hawks form large flocks, known as kettles, during migration. In autumn the majority of these raptors travel past human-staffed hawk migration observation points, which are dubbed “hawk watches,” during a brief and concentrated period of only a few weeks. Observing the phenomenon locally is possible at the Mendota Fire Tower Hawk Watch site atop Clinch Mountain at an abandoned fire tower near Mendota, Virginia. Broad-winged hawks are part of the family Accipitridae, which includes 224 species of hawks, eagles, vultures and other birds of prey. Broad-winged hawks are truly long-distance migrants. Many hawks passing over Mendota may end their migration as far south as Brazil. These hawks travel in flocks that can consist of hundreds or thousands of individuals. The birds conserve energy by soaring on thermals and mountain updrafts.

Jean Potter • Warblers, such as this male black-throated blue warbler, migrate into North America each spring to nest and retreat each fall for conditions farther south during the winter.

Traveling in stages

Most of the warblers that nest in North America retreat to Central and South America during the winter months. Few warblers, however, make as great a journey as the blackpoll warbler. Instead of migrating over land, this five-inch-long warbler undertakes a two-stage migration. The first half of the migration is a non-stop flight of about 1,500 miles. Every fall, these tiny birds fly over the ocean during this part of their migration, departing from Canada or the northern United States and not stopping until they reach various locations in the Caribbean. There they will spend some time recovering from the exhausting first half of their journey before they continue their way to such South American countries as Colombia and Venezuela.

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Bryan Stevens has written about birds since 1995. To share a sighting, ask a question or make a comment, email him at ahoodedwarbler@aol.com.