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Remember the po’ouli in fight to conserve our birds

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Photo by Jack Jeffrey/USFWS • A po’ouli relative, an ‘I’iwi forages in the Hakalau Forest National Wildlife Refuge, Hawaii. The bird’s long, downcurved, orange bill is specialized for sipping nectar from tubular flowers.

I’m celebrating 30 years of writing my weekly “Feathered Friends” column by occasionally showcasing some vintage compositions from throughout that time period. I published this column on Jan. 2, 2005. I’ve made some revisions and edits to this version. I’m more saddened now than at the time I wrote the original column, but I still think there is some cause for optimism that we’ll be able to share the planet without causing any more tragic stories for our birds. I think that message is just as important as ever.

•••

A tiny bird called the po’ouli, no bigger than some of the sparrows that visit bird feeders here in East Tennessee, failed to move forward into the year 2005.

A bird native to the Hawaiian island of Maui, the po’ouli went undiscovered by modern science until 1973. Barely three decades later, what may very well have been the last po’ouli in the world died Nov. 26, 2004.

The exact date of the demise of both the species and this last survivor can be known because the individual bird had been living in captivity in a research center on Maui. The hope had been to secure two other individuals known to exist in the wild in order to initiate a last-ditch attempt to save the po’ouli through a captive breeding program.

Nature moved faster than man. The other two po’ouli living in the wild hadn’t been seen in several months when the search launched. The lives of all small birds are fleeting and precarious. In all likelihood, these two individuals were gone even before the search commenced. With their demise, another thread had simply been snipped from nature’s tapestry.

The irony is that we knew this small bird, seen in the wild by a relatively small number of people, for only a blink in the overall scope of the universe. We did manage to learn a few things about the po’ouli in the span of time from 1973 to its extinction in late 2004.

According to a U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service press release, the po’ouli’s name in Hawaiian meant “black head,” a reference to the bird’s black mask and its other common name of black-faced honeycreeper. Its scientific name was Melamprosops phaeosoma. A Po’ouli’s most distinctive feature was a large black face mask accented by white cheeks, throat and underparts with brown wings and back; no other Hawaiian forest bird was similarly colored. Females were similar in appearance, displaying a grayish throat and breast.

The po’ouli belonged to a family known as the Hawaiian honeycreepers. Unlike other forest birds in Hawaii, the po’ouli’s diet included many native tree snails. The fact that many Hawaiian tree snails are endangered or threatened may have played a role in the rapid decline of the po’ouli.

The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service tried to look for a silver lining in the wake of this tragedy.

“Our goal of saving the po’ouli is now very difficult and may not be achievable,” said Gina Shultz, acting field supervisor for the Fish and Wildlife Service’s Pacific Islands office, in a remark that can be fairly described as classic understatement.

She added, “But we must continue to try to save the species we have left.”

At that time, Hawaii had 31 other endangered bird species threatened by loss of habitat, introduced predators and disease.

In the years since 2004, eight more species have been lost, including the Maui ʻakepa, Maui nukupuʻu, Kauai ʻŌʻō, Kauai akialoa, large Kauai thrush, Kauai nukupuʻu and Molokai creeper, also known as Kākāwahie. Some of these species had not been seen for decades when officially declared extinct in 2023.

The demise of the little-known po’ouli probably didn’t mean much to many people. It’s hard to get excited about a small, drab bird that once lived on an island thousands of miles away.

We should, however, learn a lesson from its story. When it comes to the rapid decline in birds, we’re a major part of the problem. We’re going to need to be a part of the solution, too.

Photo by Alan Schmierer • The ‘I’iwi, a relative of the po’ouli, is another of the Hawaiian honeycreeper species. These birds evolved in the forests of Hawai’i and are found nowhere else in the world. Unlike ‘the po’ouli, a few thousand I’iwi still survive but face existential threats that have intensified in recent years.

What will we do? Will we wait until another bird species dwindles to a mere three individuals in the entire world and take desperate, unsuccessful measures?

We are more than a quarter way through this new century. These problems require new thinking. The issues are too complex to be more than hinted at in one column. But perhaps we can adopt a slogan: “Remember the po’ouli.” Keep this lost little bird in mind to help us in this constant battle to see to it that no other birds follow the po’ouli into the darkness of extinction.

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

Waterfowl numbers help increase Elizabethton Christmas Bird Count total

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Photo by Krista-269/Pixabay.com • Common loons in summer breeding plumage are strikingly handsome birds that show much grace and agility in the water.

The 83rd consecutive Elizabethton Christmas Bird Count was held Saturday, Dec. 20, 2025. Twenty-four observers participated in seven parties found a total of 73 species, plus an additional species found during count week.

Compiler Rick Knight noted that the annual survey benefitted from good weather with a temperature range from 23 to 66 degrees coupled with clear and calm conditions.
The species total is right on the recent 30-year average for this CBC. The all-time high for the Elizabethton CBC was 85 species in 2017.

The list:
Canada goose, 372; mallard, 81; redhead, 3; ring-necked duck, 17; greater scaup, 2; lesser scaup, 1; bufflehead, 109; and hooded merganser, 26.

Wild turkey, 18; pied-billed grebe, 10; horned grebe, 14; rock pigeon, 208; mourning dove, 72; killdeer, 3; Wilson’s snipe, 7; ring-billed gull, 3; common loon, 1; and great blue heron, 11.

Black vulture, 26; turkey vulture, 131; sharp-shinned hawk, 1; Cooper’s hawk, 2; bald eagle, 4; red-shouldered hawk, 1; red-tailed hawk, 14; Eastern screech owl, 5; and great horned owl, 2.

Photo by Bryan Stevens
A flock of Wild Turkeys make their way across a snowy field.

Belted kingfisher, 17; red-bellied woodpecker, 28; yellow-bellied sapsucker, 19; downy woodpecker, 15; hairy woodpecker, 4; Northern flicker, 27; pileated woodpecker, 15; American kestrel, 14; and Eastern phoebe, 13.

White-eyed vireo, 1; blue jay, 130; American crow, 343; common raven, 9; Carolina chickadee, 101; tufted titmouse, 66; ruby-crowned kinglet, 11; golden-crowned Kinglet, 24; and cedar waxwing, 18.

White-breasted nuthatch, 29; brown creeper, 1; Carolina wren, 74; and winter wren, 11.

Brown thrasher, 1; Northern mockingbird, 58; Eurasian starling, 1058; Eastern bluebird, 117; hermit thrush, 8; and American robin, 236.

Photo by Bryan Stevens • A white-breasted nuthatch grabs a sunflower seed.

House sparrow, 28; house finch, 135; purple finch, 4; American goldfinch, 74; and pine siskin. The siskin was listed as a count week find. Birds seen within the same count circle but outside of the specific count day are noted as “count week” birds and still tallied with the species found on the actual count day.

Chipping sparrow, 1; field sparrow, 20; fox sparrow, 1; dark-eyed junco, 24; white-throated sparrow, 87; Savannah sparrow, 1; song sparrow, 83; Swamp Sparrow, 3; and
Eastern towhee, 14.

Eastern meadowlark, 67; common grackle, 1; pine warbler, 3; yellow-rumped warbler, 55; and Northern cardinal, 102.

Knight singled out the white-eyed vireo as a species worthy of elaboration. The vireo was seen in Hampton at the watershed trail among a stand of pines. It was the third instance for this species on this particular CBC; white-eyed vireos were also seen in 1997 and 2001.

Notable misses, according to Knight, included barred owl, red-breasted nuthatch and white-crowned sparrow.

Photo by Bryan Stevens • A male Northern cardinal visits a feeder on a snowy afternoon.

 

Christmas Bird Count produces grebes, other finds

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Photo by Bryan Stevens
The pied-billed grebe paddles through the water after it was rescued after a stranding on a lawn.

I took part in the Elizabethton Bird Club’s 83rd annual Elizabethton Christmas Bird Count on Dec. 20.

The count focuses on a circle within Carter County with Elizabethton serving as the center. Consider the circle as a pie sliced into six pieces. Different groups bird within those “slices” of terrain. The groups rotate each year to vary the participation. As a result, it had been six years since I last led the count effort for the Butler/Little Milligan area that includes a great deal of Watauga Lake.

Donna Dewhurst/USFWS • A horned grebe parent tends chicks.

One of my favorite reasons for taking part in this particular count is the great mid-day lunch break at the Dry Run General Store and Deli in Butler. This marked my third time over the last 18 years having lunch at this great spot. The lunch break also gives the participants a chance to study the list of birds seen and calculate what other species can be added and where to best look for those species.

The counts conducted in areas with access to water have the potential for the most species, so it’s always a little more fun to bird around Watauga Lake or Wilbur Lake. The Watauga River in Elizabethton is also good.

We had good weather for this most recent count, but it was a slow effort to add birds to our list. Without a doubt, spring and fall bird counts are much more exciting than a Christmas Bird Count.

Below is the list for my group, which included Rob Armistead, Brookie and Jean Potter, David and Connie Irick and Chris Soto. This is only the list for Little Milligan and Butler. I hope to provide the complete list at a later date.

We found a total of 46 species:

Canada goose, 32; mallard, 7; greater scaup, 2; hooded Merganser, 4; wild turkey, 18; pied-billed grebe, 8; horned grebe, 14; rock pigeon, 52; mourning dove,1; ring-billed gull, 1; common loon, 1; and great blue heron, 2.

Photo by U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service • Common loons are quite at home in the air and on the water, but these birds are awkward if weather forces them to set down on land.

Red-tailed hawk, 3; belted kingfisher, 3; red-bellied woodpecker, 3; downy woodpecker, 2; Northern flicker, 1; pileated woodpecker, 3; American kestrel, 2; and Eastern phoebe, 1.

Blue jay: 14; American crow, 68; common raven, 2; Carolina chickadee, 2; tufted titmouse, 11; white-breasted nuthatch, 4; winter wren, 1; Carolina wren, 5; golden-crowned kinglet, 1; and ruby-crowned kinglet, 1.

Eastern bluebird, 14; hermit thrush, 1; American robin, 5; brown thrasher, 1; Northern mockingbird, 3; European starling, 43; and cedar waxwing, 2.

House finch, 2; American goldfinch, 25; dark-eyed junco, 5; white-throated sparrow, 8; song sparrow, 3; Eastern towhee, 3; Eastern meadowlark, 1; pine warbler, 1; and Northern cardinal, 7.

While birding in Little Milligan and Butler, we had plenty of views of Watauga Lake and opportunities for spotting birds often affiliated with water. The umbrella term of waterfowl can include such birds as ducks, geese, loons and grebes. We had representatives from all of these groups on our list. I was pleased to finally see some ducks and grebes this winter.

The grebes are a grouping of birds lumped together as waterfowl. Worldwide, there are 22 grebe species. This family also includes three extinct species — Alaotra grebe, Atitlán grebe and Colombian grebe.

Many people are unaware of the grebes. After all, they are oddball birds with not a lot in common with other waterfowl such as loons and ducks. In eastern Tennessee, southwestern Virginia and western North Carolina, the pied-billed grebe is the member of the grebe family most likely to come into contact with humans.

The pied-billed grebe’s scientific name, Podilymbus podiceps, can be roughly translated as “rear-footed diver.” The reference is to the fact that this grebe, as well as others of its kind, have their feet positioned so far back on their bodies that movement on land is difficult and awkward.

In winter, however, horned grebes can be somewhat abundant on area lakes. The common name of horned grebe refers to a yellow crest of feathers located above and behind the eyes, reminiscent of “horns” in the eyes of an imaginative observer. In winter these horns are absent and the colorful horned grebe of the nesting season is replaced by a bird in a dull white and dark gray plumage.

Grebes range in size from the least grebe, which weighs only about six ounces, to the great grebe, which can tip the scales at four pounds. North American grebes include red-necked grebe, horned grebe, eared grebe, Clark’s grebe and Western grebe. In extreme southern Texas, birders can find least grebes in suitable wetland habitats.

Other grebes found around the world include birds with such descriptive names as the great crested grebe, hooded grebe and silvery grebe.

Photo by Bryan Stevens • Brookie Potter spots a “bumble,” otherwise known as an abominable snowman, near Watauga Lake during the Christmas Bird Count.

With the exception of the least grebe, I’ve seen all of North America’s grebes. During visits to Utah in 2003 and 2006, I observed the sleek, long-necked Clark’s grebe and Western grebe. On a 2006 trip to Utah, I visited Antelope Island State Park and observed tens of thousands of eared grebes gathered on the Great Salt Lake for the nesting season. In Tennessee, one of the most reliable locations to find eared grebes is from viewing areas at Musick’s Campground on South Holston Lake, where a small number of these grebes have wintered for many years.

My Christmas Bird Count excursion proved a fun time with friends. We didn’t find a lot of birds, but we enjoyed finding the ones that we did see. Happy New Year to readers. I hope everyone finds some good birds in 2026.

•••

Bryan Stevens has written about birds, birding and birders since 1995.

 

 

Impossible to overlook the beauty of cardinals at Christmas

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Photo by Nature Lady/Pixabay • A male Northern cardinal is always a welcome splash of brightness on wintry days.

Christmas Eve is upon us. I hope the hustle and bustle has died down and everyone can take delight in an enjoyable holiday. My own sincere wish to readers is that everyone gets to celebrate a great holiday that just might also include an interlude for watching some birds.

Often, when we think of winter birds, our thoughts focus on some of the less-than-colorful feeder visitors — the brown sparrows and wrens, the black and white chickadees, the drab American goldfinches that look so unlike their summer appearance.

There’s one bird, however, that makes an impression in any season. The Northern cardinal, especially the brilliant red male, stands out against a winter backdrop of snow white, deep green or drab gray.

Over the years, the Northern cardinal has also become associated with the Christmas season. How many Christmas cards have you received this holiday season with a cardinal featured in the artwork? I’d wager that at least a few cards in any assortment of holiday greetings will feature the likeness of a bright red cardinal.

Cardinals, also known by such common names as redbird and Virginia nightingale, are easily recognized backyard birds. I never tire of observing these colorful birds. Cardinals are easily lured to any backyard with plentiful cover to provide a sense of security and a generous buffet of sunflower seed.

Cardinals accept a wide variety of food at feeders. Sunflower seed is probably their favorite, but they will also sample cracked corn, peanuts, millet, bakery scraps and even suet. The cardinal is also one of only a few birds that I have noticed will consistently feed on safflower seed.

While we may get the idea that cardinals feed largely on seed, that is a misconception based on our observation of the birds at our feeders. When away from our feeders, cardinals feed on insects and fruit, including the berries of mulberry, holly, pokeberry, elderberry, Russian olive, dogwood and sumac.

Kevin Tipton/Pixabay • Female cardinals, more subdued than males, are still a sure means of providing some joy when glimpsed in wintry settings.

There’s no difficulty in identifying a cardinal. The male boasts crimson plumage, a crest, a black face and an orange bill. The female, although less colorful, is also crested. Female cardinals are soft brown in color, with varying degrees of a reddish tinge in their feathers, particularly in their wings. Immature cardinals resemble females except young cardinals have dark bills.

Cardinals are a widespread species, ranging westward to the Dakotas and south to the Gulf Coast and Texas. The southeastern United States was once the stronghold of the cardinal population. In the past century, however, cardinals have expanded their range into New England and Canada. These birds have even been introduced to Hawaii.

At feeders, cardinals mingle with a variety of other birds. Their preference for dense, tangled habitat is one they share with such birds as brown thrashers, Eastern towhees, Carolina wrens and song sparrows. In general, however, cardinals directly associate only with their own kind. Cardinals will form loose flocks during the winter, but these flocks are never as cohesive as those of such flocking birds as American goldfinches. Cardinals are more often observed in pairs. For such a bright bird, the male cardinal can be surprisingly difficult to detect as he hides in thick brush that conceals his presence. Cardinals are nervous birds, however, and usually betray their presence with easily recognized chip notes.

Photo by Bryan Stevens • A male Northern cardinal visits a feeder on a snowy afternoon.

It’s not surprising that such a popular bird has also become associated with many trappings of the Christmas season.

“You see cardinals on greeting cards, stationery, paper plates, paper napkins and tablecloths, doormats, light switch plates, candles, candle holders, coffee mugs, plates, glasses, Christmas tree ornaments and lights, bookmarks, mailboxes, Christmas jewelry,” writes June Osborne in her book “The Cardinal.”

Osborne asserts that cardinals have become an integral part of the way that many people celebrate the holiday season. I can be included among such people. My Christmas decorations include an assortment of cardinal figurines and ornaments. There are other birds — doves and penguins for example — associated with the holiday season, but for me the holidays magnify the importance of one of my favorite birds. The cardinal, in its festive red plumage, appears made to order for a symbol of the holiday season.

There’s additional evidence to put forward as testimony to the popularity of the Northern cardinal. It’s the official state bird of seven states: Virginia, North Carolina, West Virginia, Ohio, Illinois, Indiana and Kentucky. Only the Northern mockingbird, which represents five states as official state bird, even comes close to the Northern cardinal in this respect.

Even once the holidays are past, there’s nothing like a glimpse of a Northern cardinal to add some cheer to a bleak winter day.

Photo by Bryan Stevens • Northern cardinals are a favorite for makers of Christmas ornaments.

Eastern screech-owls are ‘beautiful little hunters’

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Courtesy of Carl Peters • An Eastern screech owl perches on a shepherd’s hook holding bird feeders in an Erwin yard.

I received an email from Susan Peters, an Elizabethton resident, along with a photo taken of a small owl by her brother, Erwin resident Carl Peters.

The photo was taken at a friend’s home in Erwin when the owl perched on a shepherd’s hook used for holding a hanging bird feeder.

Photo by Bryan Stevens • Lucy, a rehabilitated owl living in captivity at Brookgreen Gardens in South Carolina, educates the public about her fellow owls.

“It’s a beautiful little hunter,” Susan remarked in her email, adding that she would love to have the owl identified. She speculated that the visitor might be a Northern saw-whet owl or boreal owl. The latter would have been far out of range. Saw-whet owl was a possibility considering these tiny owls are known to reside on Unaka Mountain, but a closer study pointed to the identity of the visitor being an Eastern screech-owl.

As Susan pointed out in her email, no ear tufts are prominently visible on the bird in the photo. But any number of reasons could explain the absence of the ear tufts. These tufts, which are actually feathers that the ow can control, help with camouflage or to signal an individual owl’s mood. They can raise their tufts if they want to appear larger and more intimidating or flatten them to blend in with a tree trunk, and they may also flatten them when agitated or in a state of attentiveness.

There’s not a lot in the photo for a size comparison with the bird, but it seemed more the size of a screech-owl than the slightly smaller saw-whet owl. I’ve seen both owls and the saw-whet always strikes me as more dainty than a screech-owl.

An adult Eastern screech-owl is about 10 inches long, which is about the same size as an American robin. The owl, however, is much more sturdily built than the robin. This owl’s wingspan is usually between 18 and 24 inches. Weight varies, but a heavy screech owl weighs only 6 to 8 ounces. That’s equivalent to a cup of water.

Eastern screech-owls come in two color variations, sometimes referred to as “morphs.” These are red or rufous and gray. There is a rare brown variation that may be a hybrid of a red owl and a gray owl. The highest percentage of red screech owls occurs in Tennessee, of all places, with an estimated 79 percent of owls in the Volunteer State being of the red variety. I’ve actually not seen a red morph in many years. My recent sightings have been of gray individuals. The owl in Carl’s photo appears to be a red morph.

Eastern screech-owls are effective predators, or as Susan described them, “beautiful little hunters,” but they mostly tackle small prey, such as house sparrows, mice and large insects.

Owls are more common than we think; we simply don’t encounter them often because of their nocturnal lifestyle. The Eastern screech-owl has proven very adaptable to living in close proximity to human beings.

Many myths have taken root about owls. Some of these are more grounded in reality than others.

Photo by Bryan Stevens
An Eastern Screech-Owl at rest in a roosting hole in a large sycamore tree.

A prevalent belief is that owls are wise. Of course, that’s a relative term. Is it meant they are wiser than other birds or wiser than human beings. According to the website for the International Owl Center, owls are probably seen as wise due to their large eyes, resolute posture and relatively silent behavior. The website acknowledges that owls are good at being owls, but they are stubborn birds when people attempt to train captive specimens to perform tasks.

Not all owls, despite persistent claims, are nocturnal. It’s true, according to the International Owl Center, that a large proportion of owls are nocturnal, meaning they are active at night.

But there are always exceptions. According to the International Owl Center, a few owls are diurnal, meaning they are active during the day, and some others are crepuscular, meaning they are most active at dawn and dusk.

There are approximately 230 to 250 species of owls. There’s some debate among the experts about the exact number. Here are some interesting common names for some of those species: Golden masked owl, ashy-faced owl, white-fronted scops owl, black-capped screech-owl, cinnamon screech owl, snowy owl, Eurasian eagle owl, spectacled owl, mottled wood owl, great grey owl, pearl-spotted owlet, little owl, barking owl, powerful owl, Tasmanian boobook, chocolate boobook, laughing owl, long-eared owl and short-eared owl.

I’ve been hearing two species of owl – Eastern screech-owl and great horned owl – at home this fall. That’s the other thing. You’re much more likely to hear an owl than see one. I don’t mind. It makes this little bird a bit more mysterious, and there’s something to be said to being able to put on an air of mystery.

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Share a sighting, ask a question or make a comment by emailing me at ahoodedwarbler@aol.com.

Photo by Bryan Stevens
An Eastern Screech-Owl perches in the branches of an Eastern hemlock.

White-throated sparrows stand apart from their kin

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Photo by Indigo Bunting/Pixabay                                                                                                                                 A perched white-throated sparrow display the yellow lores and white throat that helps contrast it from other sparrows.

Recent wild winds and an accompanying cold snap have claimed the last vestiges of fall color. We’ve already had the first snow of the season.

We’re quickly advancing toward winter, a season painted in muted shades of gray. Or brown, in the case of some of the “little brown birds” known as sparrows that enliven our yards and gardens during the colder months.

A brief snippet of song from a hidden location in a brushy corner of the yard caught my attention recently. The singer revealed the return of white-throated sparrows for the season. Although they call much more frequently in the spring, this particular white-throated sparrow must have wanted to announce his arrival.

Pixabay The blunt beak of a white-throated sparrow is useful for hulling seeds at feeders.

A few of this family of “little brown birds,” like the song sparrow, reside near us through all the seasons, but most of the sparrows are visitors only during the colder months of the year. This diverse family includes such birds as dark-eyed junco, chipping sparrow, white-throated sparrow, white-crowned sparrow, field sparrow, fox sparrow and Eastern towhee.

I host many of these sparrows every winter, but one of the most reliable visitors is the white-throated sparrow. The white-throated sparrow and the closely related white-crowned sparrow both belong to a genus of American sparrows known as Zonotrichia, which includes three other species. The other three — golden-crowned sparrow, rufous-collared sparrow, and Harris’s sparrow — range mostly outside the continental United States.

The genus name, Zonotrichia, refers to two ancient Greek words for zone and hair, which refers to the pattern of streaks on the backs of these five sparrow species. The Zonotrichia sparrows belong to a large group of birds known as Passerellidae, or American sparrows, which also includes birds such as juncos, towhees and brush finches. Some of the more descriptive names for American sparrows include orange-billed sparrow, white-eared ground sparrow, green-backed sparrow, olive sparrow, cinnamon-tailed sparrow, five-striped sparrow and golden-winged sparrow.

Photo by Skeeze/Pixabay • A white-throated sparrow perches on a branch to sing its easily recognizable song. Many Americans translate the sparrow’s song as “Ol’ Sam Peabody, Peabody, Peabody.”

Many sparrows, including the white-throated sparrow, prefer to forage for food on the ground. It’s often helpful to purchase a supply of millet seed. When filling feeders with sunflower seeds, scatter a couple of handfuls of millet seed on the ground beneath the feeders or at the edge of a brushy area. Sparrows like to have quick access to dense cover, so they will feed more securely if the scattered seeds are within quick reach of shelter.

In fact, food and shelter are probably the two most compelling factors sparrows take note of when selecting a yard for their winter residence. There are easy means of providing the shelter that gives these small birds peace of mind. Leave an edge or corner of your yard in a unkempt manner. Don’t cut down grass, weeds, and saplings. Even if human neighbors look askance, your feathered friends will be grateful. An alternative is to create a brush pile with discarded trimmings taken during periodic spruce-ups of the yard and garden. Sparrows, as well as other birds, will use the brushy cover as a shelter from the elements and as protection from visiting raptors such as sharp-shinned hawks.

The white-throated sparrow is so named for the patch of white feathers on the throat. While this field mark help with identification, there are other distinct features of this particular sparrow that helps contrast it from members of the “little brown bird” gang. For starters, adults have a bold face pattern of black and white crown stripes. The most obvious field mark for attentive observers is the yellow spot between the eye and the bill. It’s a vivid splash of color not commonly found in the plumage of most of its kin.

Most songbirds live a precarious life that can be measured in only a few years. However, an occasional individual defies the odds. According to the website allaboutbirds.com, the oldest recorded white-throated sparrow was at least 14 years, 11 months old, when it was recaptured and rereleased during banding operations in Alberta, Canada.

Although they are fairly common winter visitors in the region, the white-throated sparrow makes its presence known most strongly each spring when the birds begin to sing a familiar refrain that has been transcribed in a couple of different ways. Many Americans render the song of the white-throated sparrow as “Ol’ Sam Peabody, Peabody, Peabody.” For those living north of the border, the white-throated sparrow sings “O’Canada, O’Canada, O’Canada.” No matter how you translate this sparrow’s song, it’s a sweet and welcome addition to the spring aural landscape.

Most white-throated sparrows depart the region by late April to reach their summer nesting grounds throughout the forests across Canada, the northeastern U.S. and the northern Midwest. In the influx of more showy birds each spring, their absence sometimes goes unnoticed. Nevertheless, it always feels good to welcome them when they return in late October and early November as winter begins extending its grip for the season.

Share your own sightings. Email me at ahoodedwarbler@aol.com with observations, comments or questions.

Photo by Skeeze/Pixabay • A white-throated sparrow perches on a branch to sing its easily recognizable song. Many Americans translate the sparrow’s song as “Ol’ Sam Peabody, Peabody, Peabody.”

 

With apologies to Arthur Carlson, wild turkeys can fly

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Larry Smith/USFWS • A trio of wild tom (male) turkeys parade with fanned tail feathers at Wichita Mountains Wildlife Refuge in Oklahoma. Toms are also known as gobblers.

NOTE: I wrote the original version of this column back in November 2015. With some revisions, here’s a timely column on one of the nation’s premier fowls.

As Americans, we all have our holiday traditions. I will carve 30 minutes from my schedule to watch one of my favorite holiday sitcom episodes.

Not surprisingly, there’s an element linked to birds in the episode, which is often cited as one of the most ingenious sitcom episodes in the history of television. The episode is “Turkeys Away” from the first season of WKRP in Cincinnati, a sitcom that aired from 1978 to 1982 and revolved around the antics of the staff of a down-and-out radio station. The episode originally aired Oct. 30, 1978, early in the first season of the series. I especially like that every member of the ensemble cast was woven into the storyline for this classic Thanksgiving episode. The series is such a favorite I own all the seasons on DVD.

Turkeys Away” aired during the first season of WKRP in Cincinnati, a sitcom broadcast from 1978 to 1982 that revolved around the antics of the staff of a down-and-out radio station.

In the event that there are readers who haven’t seen the episode, I’ll try to avoid any blatant spoilers. The action involves a radio promotion that, in hindsight, was destined for disaster. The episode unfolds at the perfect pace, finally culminating in a hilarious series of scenes as the promotion backfires in spectacular fashion. I’ve memorized most of the lines of dialogue, but I still enjoy hearing them delivered by the talented actors Richard Sanders, Loni Anderson, Howard Hesseman and Gordon Jump. Hesseman passed away in 2022 on Jan. 29 at age 81. Frank Bonner, the actor behind sleazy ad rep Herb Tarlek, died June 16, 2021, at age 79. Jump died Sept. 22, 2003, at age 71. Anderson died this year on Aug. 3, two days shy of her 80th birthday.

Anderson’s character, Jennifer Marlowe, delivers one of my favorite lines while on the phone trying to appease an official outraged by the station’s “turkey drop” stunt. “Mister mayor, many turkeys don’t make it through Thanksgiving,” she says into the phone as the station’s staff deals with fallout from the promotional catastrophe. The line perfectly showcases Anderson’s comic timing and in-character demeanor.

With Anderson’s death, the living cast members now consist of Gary Sandy, Jan Smithers, Richard Sanders and Tim Reid.

In the Thanksgiving episode it’s Jump who gets the pivotal line with his perfectly delivered, “As God is my witness, I thought turkeys could fly!”

That classic line provides my segue into the subject of this week’s column, which is America’s wild turkey. I sometimes wonder if my favorite episode of WKRP, which first aired 47 years ago, has had some influence in persuading many people that turkeys cannot fly. It’s a widely held misconception that the wild turkey cannot fly. The turkey is perfectly capable of flying at speeds up to 55 miles per hour, but they often prefer to walk and run over the ground. They’re good sprinters, in fact, and can reach a running speed of 25 miles per hour. Turkeys can even swim!

On the other hand, the domesticated barnyard turkey is a fowl of a completely different kind than its wild cousin. Although the wild turkey — the largest of North America’s game birds — can weigh as much as 37 pounds, it’s the domestic turkey that holds the record as a heavyweight. The largest domestic turkey on record tipped the scales at 86 pounds. That bird certainly could have provided an ample banquet for your Thanksgiving meal. Domestic turkeys are bred to be big, which means they are incapable of flight and are also poor runners. Of course, these domestic kin of wild turkeys don’t face a gauntlet of predators.

I remember the first time that I observed wild turkeys in flight. I was driving near Persimmon Ridge Park in Jonesborough, Tennessee, when about a dozen large, dark birds flew across the road just above the roof of my vehicle. I was definitely perplexed as my mind worked to figure out the identity of these birds. I had almost settled on vultures — although the flight pattern had been all wrong — when I saw that some of these flyers had landed in a field adjacent to the road. On the ground, they were easily recognized as wild turkeys.

In addition to watching my Thanksgiving episode of “WKRP in Cincinnati” I may also take a drive to see if I can’t spy some wild turkeys in the countryside. If they take flight, that would be a bonus!

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Bryan Stevens has written about birds, birders and birding since 1995. Email him at ahoodedwarbler @aol.com to share sightings, ask questions or make comments.

Bryan Stevens • Wild turkeys cross a snowy field.

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.

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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!

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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.

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.