Where You Least Expect Them

After a protracted struggle (it actually snowed on St. Patrick’s Day at my house!) Spring seems to be gaining the upper hand around Seattle.  The last few days have been wonderful – and I’ve gone on two long walks with my dogs this week.  Good to be out and about again.  If you go back and look at my posts from last year, you might see that I was quite enthusiastic about the prospects of winter birding.  Unfortunately, it didn’t live up to its promise – not because nature wasn’t cooperating, but because I got wrapped up in other things and let the winter pass without enough observation.  Those “other things” – including an emotionally demanding writing project, ending one business and planning another – were all important.  But I disappointed myself with my unwillingness to brave the cold and dark in search of birds.

Anna's Hummingbird

The one bright spot throughout the winter was my hummingbird feeder.  The Anna’s not only stayed all winter (through snow and storm) but there were more of them here than I’ve ever seen.  One combative little guy staked out our tree and yard as his territory and defended them bravely, but that didn’t stop others from making a run at the feeder whenever they could.

A couple of days ago, I was out on my porch with my roommate and the dogs, enjoying the novelty of sun, when I noticed a hummingbird on the feeder.  It was one of those sights that have become so common I almost passed over it.  But something didn’t seem right.  

My roommate saw it too.  “That doesn’t look like the same hummingbird,” he said.  

This hummingbird – obviously a male – was smaller, and his coloring wasn’t quite right.  I ran inside to get my camera, but by the time I got back he was gone.  I’m pretty sure he was the first Rufous Hummingbird of the new season, back just a little early from his winter in Mexico.  I will be watching for him now, and hoping to get photos.

“Look for surprises among what you take for granted” seems to be the theme so far this year.  There is no more ubiquitous bird in my neighborhood than the Black-Capped Chickadee.  I see them all the time, and as much as I love them, it’s easy sometimes to almost stop seeing them.  When I have the camera, I often think, “One more photo of a chickadee – you have thousands.”  Which is true, I do.  Still, I’ve found surprises hiding among the chickadees before.  A couple of years ago, I found Nuthatches in the chickadee flock in my yard.  So when I started seeing flashes of brown I thought that’s what it must be.

But it wasn’t.

Chestnut-Backed Chickadee

A friend who was visiting watched the feeders with me for a few minutes.  I mentioned the brown interlopers and suggested there might be nuthatches in the flock again.  He wasn’t convinced.

“Those are definitely chickadees,” he said.

Chestnut-Backed Chickadee

He was right.  The next day I started to get photos, and they were definitely chickadees.  Just not Black-Capped Chickadees.  For some reason I had the idea that Chestnut-Backed Chickadees were usually found only in the woods, not around neighborhoods or urban parks.  I was wrong about that.  I asked my naturalist friend and he assured me it was quite common for them to form mixed flocks with Black-Capped cousins in the spring and early summer.  But I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen them in my yard before.  

Pine Siskin

 The same holds true for the Pine Siskins I wrote about in an earlier post.  I’ve seen them around Seattle, but they’ve never been common in my neighborhood – until this year, when they’re everywhere.  Change, it would seem, is in the air.

Pine Siskins

So, encouraged by the new discoveries, I spent a little more time on the deck this past week, and snapped a lot of photos.  I found some familiar, but entertaining fellows – like this puffed up House Sparrow, and a much shier Song Sparrow.  But once again, it was a case of finding the unexpected among the most familiar.  When I looked through my sparrow photos, I found this.

Do you know who this is?

I had to get help with this ID, but if you said “Gold-Crowned Sparrow”, you’re right.  It’s a juvenile, born last year and almost ready to molt into his full adult plumage.  There’s no chance at all that I would have spotted him with my naked eye.  

So far this year, I’ve added four species to the yard list (Gold-Crowned Sparrow, Pine Siskin, Chestnut-Backed Chickadees, and Cooper’s Hawk) and three to my lifetime list (Snow Goose, Chestnut-Backed Chickadees and Gold-Crowned Sparrow).  

Not a bad start at all.

(And I’ll get back to that hawk very soon.) 

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If you like Birdland West, you might also want to check out our sister blog Books and Beasts, which focuses on reviews of books about animals and related topics.

(Many of the original photographs featured on Birdland West are available for sale as art quality prints.  You can check out all of our offerings at http://AlexWashoe.imagekind.com.  If you see an image here that does not show up on our Imagekind site please contact me directly and I'll let you know about availability.)

Pigeon Watch

I was talking about pigeons. (Here)

The common pigeon -- the Rock Dove or Rock Pigeon familiar to city dwellers around the world -- is one of those ubiquitous creatures -- like crows -- that we see so often that we almost don't see them at all.  Not as flashy or charismatic as crows, they have been with us for a very long time.  Though most of us don't see them this way, pigeons belong to a select group of animals -- along with dogs, horses and possibly cats -- that have been companions of humans and contributors to our civilization for thousands and thousands of years. 

Ballard (Seattle, WA) June, 2009

Just consider this:  all the Rock Pigeons around the world are the descendants of domesticated birds. We know that, between five and ten thousand years ago, Egyptians were using pigeons to carry messages up and down the Nile. We also know that there were already feral pigeons living in the streets of ancient Rome, pretty much the way they do now. They were introduced into North America probably in the 1600's from Europe, and the Army was still using them to send messages as late as World Wars I and II.   Properly speaking, they are not wild birds; they are feral -- domesticated animals that have returned to the wild.  Sort of.  You don't find many Rock Pigeons out in the forest (where their wild cousins do still live -- in this area, we have Band-Tailed Pigeons and Mourning Doves for instance).  They are urban animals.  Or, if you prefer (I do), civilized.

Many of these stories, and much more, are related in Pigeons: The Fascinating Saga of the World's More Revered and Reviled Bird by Andrew D. Blechman.  I first read this book a couple of years ago, and have gone back to it many times to check on certain anecdotes or re-read certain stories.  It is a rich, fascinating popular science book that not only gives us the history of the bird, but also introduces us to the incredible cast of characters and subcultures that have grown up around pigeons in the present day.  From weird pigeon hunts to racers to oddball environmentalists to good old fashioned breeders.  The pigeon has inspired more hate and love than just about any other bird (People as diverse as Charles Darwin, who bred pigeons while developing his theory of natural selection, and Mike Tyson, who has been a lifelong lover of pigeons, raised them as a child, and reputedly had his first fight with an older boy who killed one of his birds.)

TheCornell Lab of Ornithology has a special "Urban Bird Project" and as part of that project they have "Operation Pigeon Watch".  Now, next to watching dogs play, and seagulls fly, and the endlessly inventive antics of crows, there are few things I find more entertaining than pigeons. (Okay, Jennifer Aniston, but that's a whole different topic.)  So when I found out about project Pigeon Watch, I was hooked.  As I've mentioned before, I have a resident pigeon at my house who I call Timmy.  I call him a special needs pigeon because he seems to be a little ... well, handicapped.  But he's a big, beautiful healthy looking pigeon none-the-less.   Lately, Timmy has been showing up with a friend.  I think of "her" as Timmy's girlfriend, but of course I have no idea of either of their genders.  She's smaller than Timmy, with darker colored wings. 

Timmy!

There are something like 28 "morphs" -- or different color patterns -- recognized for the feral Rock Pigeon, but Cornell's Pigeon Watch has narrowed it down to five.  Timmy, for instance, is a "checker" because of the checker like pattern on his wings.  Checker's can vary from light gray with a little black, like Timmy, to much darker patterns.  I believe that Timmy's friend (who is shier and harder to photograph) might also be a checker, but with much darker wing patterns than Timmy's.

Timmy's "parents", West Seattle, summer 2010

One of the goals of the pigeon watch program is to observe mating habits among pigeons and learn which morphs mate with which others (to determine if they show a preference).  I had a chance to observe Timmy's parents, when I first moved here -- the birds I assume were Timmy's parents because they were all sharing a nest -- and I believe I witnessed courting behavior several times.  Pigeons court throughout the year, although (according to Cornell and other sources) they are more likely to mate in late winter or early spring.  Once they mate though, they mate for life.  I don't have the opportunity to observe the rest of the family any more, as they are all gone.  But I will be watching Timmy and his friend whenever I get the chance.

If you like Birdland West, you might also want to check out our sister blog Books and Beasts, which focuses on reviews of books about animals and related topics.

(Many of the original photographs featured on Birdland West are available for sale as art quality prints.  You can check out all of our offerings at http://AlexWashoe.imagekind.com.  If you see an image here that does not show up on our Imagekind site please contact me directly and I'll let you know about availability.)

House Finches, the First Day of Summer, and Baseball

Finally got a decent photo of the male House Finch, seen here with his mate.

Today is the first day of Summer and I awoke this morning to the song of House Finches.  This couple (I assume it's the same couple -- I frequently see them together and never see more than one of each gender at a time) have been around since late winter/early Spring although I've been seeing a lot more of them in the last couple of weeks.  The female has posed for some good pictures but the male continues to be very elusive.  This morning I saw them eating on the rail of my deck -- food that I put out for our resident (and slightly mentally handicapped, I believe) pigeon Timmy.  Juncos, Sparrows, Starlings and the occasional crow also stop by to sample Timmy's food, but this is the first time I've seen the Finches there. 

The guides say that House Finches are only seen individually during nesting season, and that other times they tend to form large flocks.  I haven't seen any flocks, just this couple, who have been around most of the Spring.  But I also haven't seen any fledglings, and I was thinking that it must be late in the season for nesting.  But my naturalist friend, Kevin, assures me that it's still very much nesting season for House Finches.  "Sometimes they get a late start and may not have fledglings until the middle of July," he says, "or they get an early start and raise two broods of young in one season.  Keep your eyes peeled because you still may see some fledglings before the summer is over!"

I will definitely be watching.

Her Majesty, Lulubelle, enjoys the sun and watches for rats on the first day of summer.

I started this blog a little over two months ago (it seems much longer) at the beginning of a spring that has been unusually wet and cool here.  We are still well below our average temperatures in Seattle (today it's going to get up to a lovely 75, but it's not going to last --  tomorrow the drizzle comes back).  These conditions are creating all kinds of problems.  Today on the news I heard that the state's strawberry crop is delayed and may be the latest crop in many years.  Here at home my own garden has grown much slower than anticipated and my plans to outfit my yard for hummingbirds this year might have to wait.  

Also, there have been an unusual number of bear sightings in the suburbs -- it's been going on for a couple of years but this year it seems even worse.  Part of the problem is that the edges of the Greater Puget sound urban sprawl are pushing further and further into the greenbelt areas that the bears depend on.  But part of the problem also is the unusually cool weather which has retarded the food sources at higher altitudes and the hungry spring bears are coming down into the inhabited areas to look for food. That often ends badly for the bear.

I hope to bring you more about the bears in the near future.

Back in my first post I featured rats, starlings and Flickers.  They're all still here.  I haven't seen the Flickers as much lately and they've stopped their incessant banging on the side of the house in the mornings.  But I hear them frequently, especially early in the day. 

The rats are still here, and multiplying.

 The rat is not only still here, but now there are several smaller rats around as well.  Obviously, reproduction has occurred.  The rats seem quite comfortable in the yard, although my dog Lulubelle, true to her terrier ancestry, keeps a close eye on them and lets them know if they get out of line.  (I don't know what the "rules" are for the rats, but Lulubelle does.  She's a very rule oriented girl.)

Starlings in their shimmering summer colors

 And the starlings, of course, are still here too.  They've gone from their brown, brightly spotted winter colors to their resplendent summer iridescent purple and green.  That's because earlier in the year their new feathers are growing in, the white tips of which give them the white spots.  Now the tips have worn away, and their spring and summer colors shimmer.  All About Birds says this unusual way of changing colors is called "wear molt".  

 

 

Ichiro is hitting again and the Mariners are in contention.  What a great way to start summer.

Today -- the first day of Summer -- we are just enjoying the sunshine, watching the birds, waiting for the baseball game to start. (The Seattle Mariners-- who took two games out of three this weekend from the Phillies, the best team in baseball right now --  are in DC today, playing the Washington Nationals, and are one game out of first. Who could have predicted that?) (They lost, giving away a four run lead in the ninth inning -- but it was still a good day.)

And, of course, all of us are hoping for more good weather.

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Birdland West readers will be interested in my review of Feathers: The Evolution of a Natural Miracle by Thor Hanson, which is posted now at Books and Beasts.   It's a great book and a must read for all bird lovers.  Check out the review here.

 (Many of the original photographs featured on Birdland West are available for sale as art quality prints.  You can check out all of our offerings at http://AlexWashoe.imagekind.com.  If you see an image here that does not show up on our Imagekind site please contact me directly and I'll let you know about availability.)

Turf Wars

In early Spring, the Cherry Tree

puts forth Robins and Jays

who disagree

Harsh screeches split the early morning air, a cacophony of loud voices from all directions.  I ran out on my deck, thinking that maybe the neighborhood crows had cornered another hawk (I'll share those pictures with you sometime, of the Red-Tail being chased out of Dodge last fall).  But when I got outside I realized that the voices were shriller and raspier than crows.  Most of them seemed to be coming from the big evergreen trees across the street.

And then, there it was.  In the cherry tree over my head, a flash of the richest, dark blue you can imagine.  Dark blue with a head and crest of black.  Steller's Jays.

I hadn't seen them in months, not since the last snowfall and freeze when one stopped by our yard looking for food.  And now, here they were, all over the neighborhood.  I counted at least half a dozen, but they were flashing around so fast it was hard to tell.  At one point, there were at least three in the big cherry tree over my head.  Three Steller's Jays in my yard!

Georg William Steller was a botanist, physician and zoologist who joined  Vitus Bering's second Kamchatka expedition, which landed on Kayak Island in Alaska on July 20th, 1741.  (You can find the Wikipedia listing here).  The Captain intended to stop only long enough to take on water, but Steller insisted on having more time to explore.  They were probably the first Europeans in Alaska, and Steller went on to name (after himself) at least six species of birds and mammals.  Of those species, the only one that isn't extinct or endangered today is the bird he originally called "The Steller's Crow" -- the loud, mischievous and beautiful relative of the eastern Blue Jay whose descendents were raising such an unholy ruckus in my neighborhood just yesterday.  

Jays are Corvids, relatives of Crows, Ravens and Magpies.  Highly intelligent, social birds.  I have been privileged to see them up close at the wildlife rehab center where I volunteer.  When you go into an aviary, most birds fly away from you, up to the corners of the pen, and most songbirds naturally gravitate to the open, wire enclosed side of the pen, where there is light and fresh air.  The Jays, however, quickly learn that the door in the back is where the people and food come in, and they are often waiting for you when you open it.  They will also look you right in the eye.  Only Crows, who in the wild are much more acclimated to people, are as willing to meet a human being on equal ground.  I know it's a hopelessly subjective, unscientific reaction, but when I look into the eyes of a Steller's Jay it's impossible not to feel that there is a quick mind there, asking the same kinds of questions about me that I'm asking about them.

On this day, however, the Jays were in trouble.  They were in such a state of agitation, leaping around so fast, that it was devilishly hard to get any photos of them at all.  The first Jay I saw in the cherry tree was quickly attacked by another bird who, after a brief struggle, won the day.  The Jay retreated and I swung my camera around to get a photo of the victor.  

It was a Robin.  A fat, pugnacious robin who had driven the Jay from the yard.  Maybe because it's spring, and Jays like other Corvids, are not above raiding the nests of other birds, or maybe just because the Robins were aggravated by the Jays' obnoxious behavior.  I've seen Robins join with Crows in harassing raptors -- especially Owls in the park -- but I've never seen a solo Robin attack a larger, more aggressive bird.

That was the only actual fighting I saw, but the noise that the Jays were making up and down the street made it seem like an epic struggle was raging.  Within an hour they were all gone from the neighborhood.  

Flickers, Rats and Starlings (Spring heats up, despite the weather)

I was on my deck yesterday, in the morning, and there was a lot of activity going on in the yard. (I'm still wondering who it was who scheduled such a beautiful, sunny day after such a drizzly, grey weekend). The female flicker from our neighborhood was back at the suet feeder (I moved it further out from the fence so the rat can't get to it).  You can see her here.

 

Underneath the feeder, the rat that lives under our fence was foraging for dropped bits of suet.  I think you can even see a fleck of suet on his back.

 

.

There was a brief skirmish on the ground between the rat and a Starling who also wanted to eat the crumbs.  The rat chased the starling off, but it stayed on a fence post just above, watching and vocalizing.





Meanwhile, while all this was going on, the male Flicker was on the roof next door, hammering away at their chimney.

A pretty exciting day for birds and critters.

By the way, this is the first time I've been able to get shots of the male and female Flicker at the same time.  I can hear him pounding out his mating call all over the neighborhood (including, sometimes, on the side of my house.)  With all this courtship going on, I'm hoping for Flicker fledglings in the near future.