Timmy!

When we moved into this house -- last summer -- there were pigeons in our attic.  

Timmy's "parents" -- at least the seemed to be caring for him when we moved in.

We didn't know it was pigeons at first -- we thought it might be squirrels --but observation soon confirmed a family of pigeons.    Sexing pigeons is way beyond my ability, but I assumed (because there were three of them nesting together instead of roosting with a flock, and because two of them seemed to be closer to each other) that it was mated pair and offspring. They were beautiful birds.  The pigeons out here in West Seattle look much healthier than the birds downtown.  Sleeker, more fit, and their colors are brighter.  They are also wilder.  Pigeons downtown are so acclimated to humans that they come right up to you like aggressive panhandlers -- I once had a pigeon try to take a sandwich out of my hands.  But out here they keep their distance and act like wild birds (which they really aren't).

These pigeons seemed like a couple, and seemed to be taking care of Timmy.

It was the third pigeon that was most interesting -- the one I assumed was the offspring.  Like the others, he was a good looking bird.  But he was a bit odd.  In the evenings I often saw him flying around the house, sitting on the deck, approaching all the windows and trying to get in.  He would even peck at the glass.  I was afraid that he might fly into a window and hurt himself.  He seemed unsure about where he wanted to go or what he was doing.  And because he seemed a little --- well, handicapped -- we named him Timmy. (South Park fans will understand.)

But the pigeons were really a little bit of a nuisance.  They started raiding my bird feeders -- which upset the chickadees, who would sit on the branches and scold them (or scold me for not stopping them, I'm not sure which).  Also, there were concerns about damage to the house and contamination -- since they were nesting right over our kitchen.  We decided that the pigeons had to go.

So, during the daytime, when the birds were usually gone anyway, my roommate climbed up in the attic and made sure it was empty, and the landlord's maintenance guy sealed up the hole.  After that, we didn't see the birds anymore and I assumed that, finding their nesting place sealed, they had moved on.  (There are a lot more pigeons just a few miles south of here in the commercial area of White Center).  

Except, a day or two later (like something in a Poe story), we heard scratching in the attic again.  Could it be that there actually were squirrels up there, and they had another entrance?  Squirrels are much better and getting into small spaces than pigeons.  After about three or four days we called the maintenance man and he went up into the attic to check it out again.

And found Timmy.

Timmy is really a beautiful bird -- just a little odd.

Somehow, we had missed the poor guy when we secured the attic, and he'd been trapped up there for almost a week.  We felt awful.  The maintenance man captured him and brought him down.  He seemed very confused and disoriented.  He stumbled around our yard for a while, then sat on the roof of a neighbor's shed for several hours.  We put water up there hoping he would drink it.  I was preparing to try to capture him and take him to the wildlife rehab center.  But, finally, he flew away.

And we didn't see him much all winter.

There really weren't any pigeons around our neighborhood after that.  Every once in a while I would think of Timmy and hope he was doing well.  (For some reason, I didn't worry about the other two -- they seemed like capable birds to me.  I was sure they'd be okay.)  

And then, early this spring, Timmy showed up again.  He went back to perching on the drain outside the kitchen.  He was looking good, but he still acted a little odd.  Timmy seemed to be looking for his old home.  Pigeons, after all, are legendary for their homing skills, and even a -- well, handicapped -- bird like Timmy could easily find his way back to the place where he was hatched.

Timmy!

He's been hanging around consistently ever since.  I don't know if he flies off at night and joins other pigeons in the roost, but he's frequently here late in the evening and early in the morning.  I've started putting food out for him on the rail (which is also popular with Juncos, House Sparrows, and House Finches and -- I'm afraid -- rats).  I'm trying to teach my dog, Lulubelle, not to bark at Timmy when he comes to eat.  She is dubious.  

For now, Timmy has sort of become part of our family.

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.)

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.

 ###

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.)

Newcomers: Birds of Spring

For the past week or so, I've been seeing a couple of birds in my yard that I couldn't identify.   It was hard to get a good look at them, and they looked enough like the sparrows that have been so common this spring that I was getting confused.  As usual, my strategy was to take as many photos as possible and let Cannon sort it out.

Yesterday I finally got around to going through the recent photos and I discovered some surprises.

The first mystery bird turned out to be pretty easy to identify.  She (yes, in this case she is obviously she) posed for some great photos around the feeder.  Her rather nondescript brown coloring had baffled me from a distance, but as soon as I got a good look at her head and beak I was pretty sure I knew who she was.  It helps that I know her mate (at least, a male of her species) has been hanging around quite a bit lately.  He's much more distinctive and I recognized him right away, even though I haven't gotten a really good photo of him yet.  Earlier this year I even got a shot of the couple together on the feeder (or another couple a lot like them).

 

This is the best photo I've managed to get of the male House Finch, but he is immediately recognizable.

So my first mystery bird was a female House Finch.  Even without her boyfriend's flashy colors, she's a handsome bird.

Earlier this spring, I got a picture of a House Finch couple at the feeder.

The second contestant was harder to identify.  I'm a little embarrassed to admit that, at first, I thought he (in this case I have no idea what the gender is) was a Song Sparrow.  They're not quite as common in my neighborhood as House Sparrows, but they've been around this spring.  He has a sparrow-ish shape, and brownish streaking on the breast.  But it's not a Sparrow.  I had to call in help from a naturalist friend to positively identify this one.  Look at the photos and see if you can do better before you read on.

Identifying birds often comes down to details, and as my friend pointed out, the telling clue is in the tail.  "See how one outer tail feather on each side of the tail is white?" He asked. "Can you think of a common backyard bird that you see with this pattern on the tail?"  

Once you see that, it's a dead give-away.  The flashing white tail feathers are so familiar that it's usually all  I need to recognize one of my most loyal feeder birds:  the Dark-eyed Junco.  This little guy is a juvenile, probably a fledgling.  And that makes him the first of the new generation that I've positively identified in my yard this year.

Pretty exciting news.    

 ###

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.)

The Canon Rebel and the Zen of Bird Watching

I am a photo birder.

Though I've gotten better over the last year (mostly from learning what to look for) I'm still a little weak at "on the wing" identifications.  I have photographs (not always good photographs) of every single bird on my yard list and most of the birds on my life list.  I feel more confident that way.

Technically, this is not a great photo, but it captures something so specific to the species -- the Junco's tendency to dive straight down toward the ground -- that I really love it.

Plus, you can learn a lot from photos.  You can see things -- details of markings, movement, flight and behavior that are hard to catch in real-time observation.  And though I like to take a beautiful shot as much as anyone, that's not really my point in shooting wildlife.  My goal is to use the camera to expand my ability to see.

The camera that I use is a Canon Rebel XTi.  I bought it several years ago and the salesperson described it as the "top of the line of amateur cameras".  (It's at least one generation back now, but I'm very happy with it.)  The next step up, he said, was to the low-end professional cameras.  The XTi is lightweight, which makes it easy to carry, even with a large lens (although you have to learn to compensate for overbalancing when the lens far outweighs the camera).  Lately, I've been using a Sigma50-500 HMS lens, a step up (in size and range) from the Canon 75-300mm lens that I used for so long and was very happy with.  The reason I switched, initially, was not because I was dissatisfied with the smaller lens, but because it developed a glitch and stopped working with the camera's auto-focus.  Otherwise, I would probably still be relying on the 75-300.  It is light and versatile -- but mostly because I am a creature of habit.  

One of the nice things about Canon is their EOS lens system.  Basically, all Cannon SLR cameras use the same set of lenses, which gives you a very wide range of options.  They are also compatible with a wide array of lenses from third-party producers.  As I said, I've had good luck with my lens from Sigma.

This Bushtit behavior would be very hard to see with the naked eye.

My technique, so far, is really not much of a technique at all.  I take my camera with me to all sorts of places -- and most importantly I keep it close to the front door, so that I can get out onto the deck in a hurry.  My front yard provides a big part of my birding excitement lately -- I make as many discoveries there as I do when I go on excursions.  (Which maybe means I should broaden my areas of excursion?)

This photo is not clear and hard to identify, but along with the next one ...

It makes a positive ID:  Black-headed Grosbeak

With the possible exception of writing and playing with my dogs, there is simply nothing in my life as healthy and calming as bird watching and photography.  I find that the stillness that it takes to really see the birds around me is meditative.  I'm generally not a person who finds it easy to stay still -- much less quiet.  Really hearing the birds requires that I stop talking to myself, at least for a little while.  I wear glasses -- I see pretty well close up, but not at a distance -- but I have my camera focus adjusted for my uncorrected vision.  The slight blurriness of the world when I take off my glasses is actually an asset, I think.  (And I can now identify a number of familiar birds without my glasses -- House Sparrows from their markings and their sound, Juncos from the charcoal cowl and the flash of white on their tails, chickadees with the sharp pattern of black-and-white).  It allows me to relax and focus more on the entire space around me, rather than the details of one thing.  What I'm looking for is motion.  Songbirds are all about motion.  

In Zen and the Art of Archery, Eugen Herrigel's archery teacher told him, "Don't think of what you have to do, don't consider how to carry it out! ... The shot will only go smoothly when it takes the archer himself by surprise .... "  I like that kind of photography.  

This Chickadee seems confused, landing on the wrong feeder.  But I would guess he's looking for ants.

A flash of yellow could be anyone -- too fast for the eye to tell.

Last week I was out on my deck and I noticed movement in the tall bushes by the sidewalk.  Bushtits often forage in those bushes, so that's what I expected at first.  As I was bringing the camera up, I saw a flash of bright yellow.  Definitely not a bushtit.  The bird was moving so fast though, flitting around in the bushes so much that it was almost impossible to get a good look at him.  Even through the powerful lens, my eyes couldn't catch him.  This is when the features of the Cannon Rebel really come into their own.  With the settings on automatic (I usually use the "sports" setting because it shoots so fast), you lose a lot of control over aperture and film speed and such, but the auto-focus is very good.  I simply track the motion, shooting as fast as I can.  The 50-500 lens takes some getting used to, because of its length and weight.  Some people prefer to use it with a tripod, but with small songbirds I find that too restrictive.  (Although it could work well at a hummingbird feeder).  I have learned to handhold this lens, and I can keep it steady now while I shoot.  Don't think of what you have to do, don't consider how to carry it out.  The great joy of this kind of shooting is when it takes the photographer himself by surprise. I shot hundreds of frames of my little yellow visitor, and even after I finished, I didn't have a clear idea of who he was.  He was moving too fast.  With my naked eyes (even with glasses) I never would have gotten a good enough look at him to identify him.  Binoculars probably wouldn't have helped much either.

But when I started looking through my shots I found wonderful surprises. 

Unmistakably a Wilson's Warbler.

The camera captures what the eye could never see.

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.)

Sizing up songbirds: My favorite trick for identifying birds

What's the first thing you notice when you glimpse a strange bird?

Not too long ago, I didn't know a black-capped chickadee from a Dark-eyed Junco.   Of course, I knew a hummingbird when I saw one, and I was familiar with gulls and crows.  But I spent too much time in the heart of the city, and I wasn't very good at being still long enough to really see the smaller songbirds around me.

Now, I probably recognize a dozen or more species of songbirds on sight -- sometimes just by the way they move or fly.  And though I'm not a very good "by ear" birder, I have learned the songs and calls of many of my most familiar species.

Color and movement command attention.  But are they the best keys to identification?

But a couple of unusual visitors in the past week have gotten me to thinking about the perennial bird watcher's question:  what is the best way to identify a bird in the field?  If you look around at bird books and blogs and magazines you will find endless information and advice on this topic -- much of it very good.  But, as a novice myself, I thought it might be helpful to say something about how I have learned to do it in the past year.  

So again, what's the first thing you notice when you catch sight of an unknown bird?

Probably color.  Color demands our attention.  And movement.  Location, in a tree, in a bush, on the ground.  Songs and calls.  All of these are vital clues.  But the problem is that there's so much relevant information, and often our chance to observe the bird is so brief, that it can be hard to know what we should pay attention to first.

I've learned a little trick that works very well for me, and often provides a key to figuring out a bird's identity.  It's not unique to me -- I've done a lot of reading in the past year and had the opportunity to pick the brains of people who know a lot more than I do -- but I've been able to adapt it to my area and habits.  What I've done is train myself to ask a different question first, one that's not nearly as instinctive as some of the others: How big is this bird?

Bushtits are the smallest songbirds in North America.

Among songbirds, size is crucial.  Knowing the approximate size dramatically narrows the possibilities.  Then the other things I notice -- color patterns, movement, location, song -- all become much more useful, because there are a lot less candidates to choose from.

If you're like I was, you're thinking, "How in the world do you expect me to guess the size of a bird that I see for less than a minute a hundred feet away?"  In my mind, when I started out, all small birds were "sparrows" and I was convinced I couldn't tell them apart.  Little did I know there was a whole galaxy of smaller-than-sparrow species to learn.

The trick is, you don't have to know how big a bird is in centimeters or fractions of a gram.  All you have to know is relative size.  How big is the bird compared to species you already know?  If you can place him between two species you know, then the task of identifying him becomes much simpler.

Everyone knows Robins, which makes them the perfect beginning metric for birdwatchers.

In my head, I have gradually built up a scale.  It will be a little different depending on where you live, and what birds you're familiar with.  But you don't have to know a lot of birds to start.  Two or three species is enough to start making valuable guesses about size.  (Even something as simple as "Is it bigger or smaller than a Robin?" can be very valuable.)

Crows are the largest songbirds most city-people see regularly.

For instance, in my neighborhood, the smallest songbirds around are bushtits.  (Actually they're the smallest songbirds in North America, about the size of an Anna's Hummingbird.)  And the largest songbirds are Crows.  (There are occasional Raven sightings out here in West Seattle, but they are very rare.)  Around here, if it's bigger than a crow, it's not a songbird.  You're into groups like hawks and gulls then.

My personal scale runs -- roughly -- like this:  Bushtits, Black-Capped Chickadees, Dark-eyed Juncos, House Sparrows, Robins, Steller's Jays, Crows.   This is a pretty good scale for where I live.  Nine times out of ten, if I get a good look (or a good photo) I can pretty quickly place the bird on my scale.

So when I glimpse that unknown visitor in the cherry tree, I ask myself about his size.  I know he's bigger than a House Sparrow, not quite as big as a Robin.  Once I know that, I can easily leverage whatever other information I have -- orange chest, black head and wings, white bars on the wings -- into a good identification:  That's a Black-Headed Grosbeak.

And what could be more satisfying to a bird watcher than that?


(I'd love to hear some of your favorite aids to identification.  Feel free to leave them in the comments.)

RELATED POSTS

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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.)

Hawks and Crows

Crows coming from all directions to answer an alarm call.

It finally got warm enough in Seattle that I needed to open all the doors and windows last week.  (Friday it passed 70 degrees for the first time since last November).  In the early afternoon I was working in the back of the house when I heard an ungodly racket outside.  I looked out the back door, and saw crows flying in from all directions.  They were cawing and raising the alarm, and it looked like they were headed right for my house.  When I got outside they were wheeling overhead, taking turns diving at the upper branches of the tall dogwood tree next door.  I couldn't see what they were after, but I had a good suspicion what it might be.

I've seen this before.  Even though crows are spread thinner here than they are in the more urban parts of the city, they can gather very quickly in a crisis.  And when the crows are upset, it pays to follow them.  

Once, when I was in the park with my friend and our two dogs, we heard the crows raising hell and followed the sound to a tall tree just off the path.  A  Barred Owl was hunkered down in the crook of a branch, being harried by crows.  Just to make the tableau even more magical, a hummingbird was darting around in the upper branches, picking out insects, oblivious to all the noise the larger creatures were making (as hummingbirds often are). 

Crows "counting coup" on an unseen enemy.

 

You don't always get quite that much pay off, but every time I've ever seen an owl in the wild, it's been because crows led me to them.  And they can lead you to other big predators too.

Red-Tailed Hawk (at bottom) pursued by angry crows.

One afternoon last fall the crows started raising a ruckus.  This time, they were zeroing in on a tree across the street -- one that has an old abandoned crow nest in the top, which you can see in the winter when the leaves are gone.  They swirled around and attacked that tree for half an hour or more, before their quarry got tired and made  break for it.  That time, I was able to chase the fleeing bird with my camera as the crows chased him across the sky.  When I got the pictures uploaded and zoomed in, I could tell exactly what it was:  A Red-Tailed Hawk.

Young Cooper's Hawk from last summer.

 Hawks are not uncommon in Seattle.  I took these photos of a young Cooper's Hawk in Westcrest Park, just up the hill from where I live, late last summer.  While I was watching him, he was calling and responding to at least one other Hawk that I never saw.  As birds go around here, the big hawks like Cooper's and Red-Tails are pretty much apex predators.  Top of the food chain.  Of course, there are Bald Eagles in the city too, but they're more interested in carrion and when they do go after prey it's usually fish -- size and the whole national symbol thing notwithstanding, they just aren't the hunter's that the big hawks are. North of here, in the San Juan Islands, and across the mountains in Eastern Washington, there are Golden Eagles, enormous birds and very serious hunters.  But you almost never see them around the city.  (I've had the privilege of being very close to both Bald and Golden Eagles while volunteering at a wildlife rehabilitation center -- I've also been close to hawks, and have even handled some of the smaller hawks.  But I've never handled anything as big as Red-Tail or a Cooper's Hawk.)

Hawks and crows are on the opposite ends of the sociability spectrum.  Raptors tend to be solitary, or to live as mated pairs.  Both Cooper's and Red-Tails are believed to mate for life, a pair staying together until one of them dies.  But crows are among the most social of birds, and that is really where their advantage comes in.  The larger and more powerful raptors are no match for a mob of crows.  (And mob is really the appropriate word.)  I find this fascinating because it seems so similar to what probably gave humans the edge in our early history -- we weren't stronger or faster or more powerful than most of the animals around us, but we were smarter, and we knew how to work together.  Crow are one of the most intelligent birds, and they seem to understand the value of cooperative behavior.  (I've read accounts of crows hunting in small groups, forcing smaller birds to fly into buildings so they can eat them.)  

I've spent a lot of time watching and following crows.  They almost always lead me to something interesting.

RELATED POSTS

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And on BOOKS AND BEASTS

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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.)

Adventures with bird feeders

When I moved to West Seattle last year, I wanted to put up bird feeders.  But I didn't know anything about them.  For many years I lived in urban neighborhoods not at all suited for feeders.  My old neighborhood, in Ballard, was so busy with feral cats that I never wanted to attract more birds. So I was definitely starting from scratch.

I also had a limited budget.  The move strapped finances, so I wasn't ready to sink a lot of money into a new hobby.  I wanted to start as simply and inexpensively as possible.  

With no real idea what I needed, I stopped by the Home Depot.  I had done a little looking online.  The first thing I learned was:  you can spend as much money on bird feeders and paraphernalia as you want.  You can easily spend a fortune.  But I didn't have a fortune.

I'd already had some adventures with the chickadees in my neighborhood.

I also didn't know what kind of feeders I wanted.  Not having much experience, and not knowing what kind of birds to expect, I was stymied by all the choices.  There was only one thing I did know -- there were chickadees in my neighborhood.  Black-capped chickadees, and I had already had some adventures with them.  (I'll tell you more about that later).  So I decided, for a start, to buy feeders that would appeal to chickadees.

Perky-Pet Sierra Wild Bird Feeder

What I ended up with were the cheapest, most versatile feeders I could find.  At the Home Depot I found the Perky-Pet Sierra Wild Bird Feeder.  (See here or here).  They are plastic, pretty cheaply made, but work well and are easy for a beginner to figure out.  I managed to destroy one of them by sitting it on the rail of my deck where it blew off and crashed to the sidewalk below.  But they are versatile -- they can be used both as mixed-feed songbird feeders and as finch-style thistle seed feeders (the feeding ports flip up and down).  I had my first feeder operating almost at once (which I wasn't entirely sure I could do).  And, they are very inexpensive.  They were priced from three to five dollars at different stores.  This turned out to be good, because they suffered a heavy mortality rate in my yard.

Chickadees discovered these feeders quickly.  A day or two after I put them up, the chickadees came calling -- first one or two, then a steady stream.  Dark-eyed Juncos were close behind.  (The Juncos also like eating the seed that falls to the ground underneath.) Over the course of the winter, my feeders (I also added a suet feeder at some point) logged 17 species, a number of which I had never seen before in the wild. (See my "Yard List" here).  

Rock Pigeons were a problem at first, they would raid the feeders and spill all the food, but once we closed up the hole in our attic and evicted the pigeons, they moved on and we didn't have any more problems.  During the coldest part of the winter, Northern Flickers came to visit the feeders.  Seeing them twisting around to eat out the little songbird ports was a comical sight.  (They're even more fond of the suet feeders.)

Enter the villain of the piece.  Sometime during the winter the squirrels in my neighborhood discovered the feeders, and when they did, things got ugly.  First, I noticed that food was disappearing very quickly.  I caught the squirrels lurking around, but I wasn't overly concerned.  I didn't care that much if they ate some of the feed.  Then I started to notice damage to the feeders.  The inexpensive plastic was easy pickings for rodents.  One day, I went out to discover the feeder totally destroyed.  All the perches gnawed off and the ports torn up.  It was especially impressive since I had photos of the feeder from the day before showing it to be whole and intact.  Whoever destroyed it worked fast.

It wasn't long before I caught him in the act.

I tried switching feed to find something less attractive to the squirrels, but the birds didn't like it as much as the mixed fruit and nut type I was using, and the squirrels, now that they had discovered the feeders would not be discouraged.  I started losing feeders at an alarming rate.  Since they are inexpensive, I bought a lot of them, so I could replace them quickly, but it soon became clear that I was losing the war of attrition.  The inexpensive solution was not so inexpensive any more. 

I replaced the Sierra feeders with another model. Birdscapes Copper Festival Mixed Seed Bird Feeder. (See it here, and here). It costs a bit more -- almost twenty dollars at Home Depot.   In design, it's similar to the Perky-Pet model -- a plastic sheath with perches and ports.  But the external parts -- the perches and port openings -- are brass.  Squirrels aren't going to chew them up.  At first, I was afraid that the birds didn't like the new feeder -- there seemed to be a sharp drop in attendance when I put it out.  But within a week they were all back, and I haven't had any complaints since.  I've caught the squirrels on it more than once, but they can't destroy it, which is all I wanted.

I've been happy with the results of these feeders.  Now, with Summer coming on, I want to branch out, try some new kinds of feeders and new locations.

I'll let you know what I find out.

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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.)