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White-throated sparrows stand apart from their kin

 

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

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!

•••

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

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

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.

Hollywood, not nature, casts feathered friends in villainous light

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.

56th annual Fall Bird Count finds 120 species in Northeast Tennessee

Photo by Jean Potter A single Wilson’s warbler made it onto the tally for this year’s Fall Bird Count

The 56th annual Elizabethton Fall Bird Count was held Saturday, Oct. 4. A total of 25 observers participated in about 13 parties. The weather was good, with clear skies, no wind and temperatures ranging from 42 to 82 degrees.

This year’s count tallied 120 species, plus two gull species and one Empidonax species of flycatcher. This total is slightly below the recent 30 year average of 124 species, according to compiler Rick Knight The all-time high on this count was 137 species in 1993.

The count is conducted in the Northeast Tennessee counties of Carter, Johnson, Sullivan, Unicoi and Washington.

Photo by Bryan Stevens A total of four pied-billed grebes were found during the recent Fall Bird Count. Numbers of this species will increase as the season advances.

The list:

Canada goose, 466; wood duck, 34; blue-winged teal, 21; mallard, 64; common merganser, 12; wild turkey, 15; and pied-billed grebe, 4.

Rock pigeon, 183; Eurasian collared-dove, 2; mourning dove, 145; yellow-billed cuckoo, 3; chimney swift, 176; and ruby-throated hummingbird, 1.

Killdeer, 41; spotted sandpiper, 3; solitary sandpiper, 2; and two gull species that could not be positively identified.

Double-crested cormorant, 30; green heron, 3; great egret, 5; great blue heron, 26; black vulture, 39; and turkey vulture, 195.

Osprey, 5; sharp-shinned hawk, 1; Cooper’s hawk, 6; bald eagle, 7; red-shouldered hawk, 6; broad-winged hawk, 1; red-tailed hawk, 17; American barn owl, 1; Eastern screech-owl, 24; great horned owl, 5; barred owl, 7; and Northern saw-whet owl, 3.

Belted kingfisher, 22; red-headed woodpecker, 5; red-bellied woodpecker, 71; yellow-bellied sapsucker, 9; downy woodpecker, 41; hairy woodpecker, 17; Northern flicker, 54; and pileated woodpecker, 17.

American kestrel, 14; merlin, 4; Eastern wood-pewee, 17; unidentifiable Empidonax species, 1; Eastern Phoebe, 82; yellow-throated vireo, 6; blue-headed vireo, 23; Philadelphia vireo, 4; red-eyed vireo, 10; and loggerhead shrike, 1.

Blue jay, 360; American crow, 416; fish crow, 4; and common raven, 21.

Carolina chickadee, 158; tufted titmouse, 140; tree swallow, 120; ruby-crowned kinglet, 13; golden-crowned kinglet, 4; cedar waxwing, 126; red-breasted nuthatch, 13; white-breasted nuthatch, 70; and brown creeper, 1.

Carolina wren, 135; house wren, 3; gray catbird, 27; brown thrasher, 9; Northern mockingbird, 74; and European starling, 560.

Photo by Jean Potter A Carolina wren creeps along a fence. A total of 135 of these wrens made it onto the recent Fall Bird Count.

Eastern bluebird, 157; veery, 1; gray-cheeked thrush, 5; Swainson’s thrush, 42; wood thrush, 7; American robin, 233.

House sparrow, 34; house finch, 50; red crossbill, 3; American goldfinch, 64; chipping sparrow, 51; field sparrow, 6; dark-eyed junco, 30; white-crowned sparrow, 1; white-throated sparrow, 2; savannah sparrow, 1; song sparrow, 98; swamp sparrow, 2; Eastern towhee, 47; and yellow-breasted chat, 1.

Eastern meadowlark, 20; red-winged blackbird, 70; brown-headed cowbird, 208; and common grackle, 24.

Ovenbird, 2; Northern waterthrush, 2; black-and-white warbler, 6; Tennessee warbler, 47; orange-crowned warbler, 1; Nashville warbler, 1; common yellowthroat, 12; hooded warbler, 5; American redstart, 21; Cape May warbler, 9; Northern parole, 21; magnolia warbler, 28; bay-breasted warbler, 47; Blackburnian warbler, 4; chestnut-sided warbler, 3; black-throated blue warbler, 11; palm warbler, 26; pine warbler, 4; yellow-rumped warbler, 4; yellow-throated warbler, 2; black-throated green warbler, 14; and Wilson’s warbler, 1.

Photo by Bryan Stevens • Male American redstarts are unmistakable warblers in their orange, black and white plumage.

Scarlet tanager, 9; Northern cardinal, 165; Rose-breasted grosbeak, 13; and indigo bunting, 9.

Some species were noteworthy in their absence. Notable misses included white-eyed vireo, blue-gray gnatcatcher, winter wren, hermit thrush and blue grosbeak.

The count was held a week later than usual due to the fall meeting of the Tennessee Ornithological Society in

Johnson City. This may have accounted for some of the misses or low numbers for some species , such as the single hummingbird. On the other hand, the later date may have contributed to finding some of the later migrants, including orange-crowned warbler and white-throated sparrow.

The count has been held on the first Saturday in October a few times previously.

•••

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

Why do owls give a hoot? For many reasons

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.

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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.

Local couple comes to aid of injured hummingbird

Rex and Linda Mathes • Linda and Rex Mathes came to the aid of this injured hummingbird. Most ruby-throated hummingbirds, like other migratory birds, face many perils and obstacles during their migrations.

Erwin resident Linda Mathes emailed me recently to inquire about wildlife rehabilitators who might be able to help an injured ruby-throated hummingbird.

“We found a hummingbird in the backyard yesterday, alive, so brought into house and put in box,” Linda wrote. “We think its wing is damaged.”

Linda noted that she and her husband, Rex, also brought the hummingbird feeder inside.

“My husband picks it up and holds it up to feeder and it drinks,” Linda explained. “He does this several times a day.”

She added that the hummingbird regained enough strength to also sit on Rex’s finger.

“We were worried the bird would not have any nectar during the night,” she added.

The next morning, the bird still seemed fine other than for the injured wing.

“He is very perky,” Linda note. “He/she is a real fighter.”

I provided Linda with some suggestions on wildlife rehabilitaters, but she found one on her own with the help of a friend. Rex and Linda made a trip on Monday, Sept. 29, to deliver the hummingbird into the care of a licensed wildlife rehabilitation professional.

Bryan Stevens • Ruby-throated hummingbirds have usually departed from the region by early October.

“They gave me a patient number so I could call about the bird.”

When she called on the morning of Tuesday, Sept 30, she got a detailed report.

The vet had prescribed muscle relaxers for the hummingbird,” Linda said. “Her condition was listed as guarded but at least she might have a chance.”

As they were leaving the facility, someone brought in an injured chipmunk.

Linda added that there was no charge for caring for the bird but she planned to send a small donation.

I’m hopeful for the hummingbird’s recovery. Over the years, I’ve encountered several injured birds. Several of the birds stunned themselves after impacts with windows, an all-too-common hazard. Rose-breasted grosbeak and Swainson’s thrush have been among some of these. Most of the birds have recovered after a brief rest period in a shoe box covered with a towel. It’s always a relief when they can fly off under their own power.

Migration can be hazardous and arduous for our feathered friends. Birds face various hazards, including collisions with human-made structures like buildings and power lines, habitat loss and degradation, storms, disorienting light pollution and predation from other animals.

They also need to refuel to keep up their strength, and the lack of food along a migration route can deal the chances of their success a serious blow.

Even birds that cannot fly undertake migrations. For instance, flightless penguins swim hundreds or thousands of miles to reach preferred ranges for feeding or nesting. The Australian emu, a smaller relative of the ostrich, makes seasonal migrations on foot to ensure access to abundant food supplies at all seasons.

Ruby-throated hummingbirds make an awe-inspiring and non-stop crossing of the Gulf of Mexico every fall to reach their wintering grounds. Their flight across the waters of the Gulf can take these tiny birds 18 to 22 hours. Even more incredible, they make the trip in reverse in the spring when they return to their nesting grounds across the Eastern United States.

Photo by Bryan Stevens • A ruby-throated hummingbird visits a feeder for a sip of sugar water.

Ruby-throated hummingbirds lead relatively brief lives, which is understandable considering the perils they face and the incredible migrations they stage twice each year. The oldest known ruby-throated hummingbird was a female, according to the website All About Birds. She was at least 9 years, 2 months old when she was recaptured and rereleased in 2014 during banding operations in West Virginia.

The New World is home to about 360 species of hummingbirds. We’ve expended a lot of energy finding adjectives to provide names for all these hummingbirds. Sometimes, words fail. Mere adjectives are somewhat inadequate in providing common names for many of the world’s more hummingbirds, but that doesn’t keep us from trying to give descriptive names to each hummingbird species. For instance, we have the beautiful hummingbird of Mexico; the charming hummingbird of Costa Rica and Panama; the festive coquette of northwestern South America; and the magnificent hummingbird of the southwestern United States.

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

Birds boast phenomenal knack for long-distance travel

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.

Looking for fall migrating birds already underway

A male Wilson’s warbler perches in some branches. Many species of warbler migrate through the region each fall.

Summer’s waning. Just look at the calendar. We’re already approaching the midway point in August.

Birders track the transitions as one season merges into another, knowing that these are some of the best times to seek out birds. Fall migration doesn’t wait for a page to turn on a calendar. In fact, some birds are already on the move. I thought I’d devote this week’s column to some of the birds I hope to observe this fall as a mass migration draws many of our summer residents south toward warmer wintering grounds. In no particular order, here are some of the birds I’m hoping to see this autumn.

COMMON NIGHTHAWKS

The name common nighthawk is a misnomer. The species is not strictly nocturnal and it is certainly not a hawk. It’s actually a member of the nightjar family, which includes such birds as chuck-will’s-widow and whip-poor-will. The nighthawk doesn’t offer a serenade like these relatives, but it does produce a “pent” call that sounds much like an electric buzzer. It’s often the first indication of one of these birds swooping overhead. Nighthawks form impressive flocks, often numbering in the dozens or even hundreds. They are often active in evening hours, but I’ve seen large flocks of these migrating birds in mid-afternoon. August and September are the best time to look skyward to enjoy the spectacle of a large flock of swooping nighthawks as they pass overhead.

Photo by U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service
A Common Nighthawk finds a perch for a brief rest.

 

I didn’t host any of these colorful birds this spring, so I hope to get another opportunity this fall. The males in their vibrant black-and-white plumage and namesake breast patch of rosy-red feathers are slightly less colorful in the fall. I’ve actually had better luck in autumn hosting these birds at feeders. They love sunflower seeds, so keep your feeders stocked with their favorite foods to increase your chances. Females and young birds look different than adult males, but the heavy beak (the word “gros” is German for large) is a good indicator of their identity. Bird banders netting this species to document information for science can testify that these birds are also capable of a nasty nip at careless fingers with that stout bill.

Bryan Stevens • A pine warbler visits a suet feeder.

WARBLERS

These birds are undeniably at their most gorgeous during spring migration, but many species of warbler retain colorful plumage into the fall season. Young birds, often in a plumage entirely different than adult birds, are responsible for the term “confusing fall warblers.” I’ll be looking for the species that are harder to locate in the spring, including bay-breasted warbler, Cape May warbler, Blackburnian warbler and Tennessee warbler. I’ll also be hoping for a rarity such as cerulean warbler or mourning warbler. I will be sad when the parade of warblers produces a palm warbler or a yellow-romped warbler. These last two species are a sure sign that fall migration’s coming to a close for another season.

Photo by Bryan Stevens
A Great Egret resting on a spit of land in a lake at Murphy Candler Park in Brookhaven, Ga.

WADING BIRDS

Late summer and early fall can also be a fantastic time for scanning rivers, lakes and farm ponds for wading birds. Hurricanes in recent years have even forcibly relocated American flamingos to Tennessee and other unlikely locations. It’s slightly more reasonable to hope for something unexpected like a wood stork or roseate spoonbill. The more likely candidates for observing in the region are great egrets, tri-colored herons and snowy egrets. It’s also a last chance to view green herons before this small species retreats to warmer locations for the coming winter.

Bryan Stevens • A hermit thrush perches on a fence.

THRUSHES

These medium-sized songbirds are typically brown in plumage, often with spotted white breasts. They’re beautiful singers in spring and summer, but they’ve often cut back on their singing by fall. Nevertheless, they form large migrating flocks that will roam autumn woodlands to rest and refuel during short breaks from migrating. Swainson’s thrush is not difficult to find in the fall. This species is named in honor of 19th century artist and ornithologist William Swainson. Like most birders, I will be hoping for the more difficult species like Bicknell’s thrush and gray-cheeked thrush. Knowing their call notes can help alert you to their presence.

There will be a dazzling diversity of our feathered friends on the move this month. The seasonal phenomenon of migration extends into September and October. Pay attention to the visitors in your yards and gardens.

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Share sightings, ask questions or make comments by emailing me at ahoodedwarbler @aol.com.

Photo by Bryan Stevens • This migrating rose-breasted grosbeaks struck a window and spent some time recovering. Later, the bird flew safely back to a row of trees.