The Plummer’s Hollow 200 received an unexpected boost today with Blair County’s first Upland Sandpiper (UPSA) record, and then a migrant Prairie Warbler at dawn among the growing throng of First Field warblers.
The UPSA is a lucky catch: I didn’t have much hope for August, because the NFC spectrum now looks like this much of the night:
The thick series of three and four lines are katydids on the trees nearest the garage, and the other blotches are field crickets and so forth. The overall dark tone is background noise from thousands of insects.
It sounds like this:
Though this chorus obliterates all but the closest and loudest bird calls for much of the night (an occasional American Redstart, Ovenbird, or Swainson’s Thrush does slip through), in the wee hours, the cold quiets the insects and the night migrants can then be heard. This struggle between insects and birds will intensify as populations of both swell, until we reach a point that the type of spectrum you can see above is laced with hundreds of Veery-like blotches in a few weeks.
And then comes the first frost, maybe in time for Plummer’s Hollow’s greatest nocturnal show of all, the descent of untold thousands of Swainson’s Thrushes.
Dawn of the Predators
As First Field swells with migrants, it is becoming impossible to tell which of the summer residents have stayed around and which are new arrivals, stopping over for a day or two, a few weeks, or longer. I noticed that Sunday’s 45 Field Sparrows and 51 Indigo Buntings both set county high-numbers records. I think the quantities have to do with the excellent shelter provided by our old-field habitat, vine tangles, and messy, snaggy woods, and the bug-and-fruit bonanza account for the rest.
Wednesday’s dawn, after the dry high, is in the sixties and clear. The true dawn chorus is sparse, but it’s a welcome respite from my balcony, which is nearly mute both at dawn and at dusk now.
In terms of my goal of 200 species this year, my main concerns for August are a small group of expected passerines I have yet to detect, that will almost certainly not show up as NFCs: Blue-winged and Golden-winged warblers, Prairie Warbler, Yellow-breasted Chat, and Olive-sided Flycatcher. Just after six, a Prairie obligingly calls as the chorus of ticks, chips, trills, and tinks of over a dozen warbler species revs up.
In the background are vocalizations I don’t hear very often: the subsongs of sparrows, towhees, buntings, Rose-breasted Grosbeaks, House Wrens, and others. A perfect ringer for a Northern Saw-whet Owl toots at one point, but I think it’s a Barred Owl off in the trees to the left of the powerline, as it emits a more classic series of hoots a few minutes later. An Eastern Screech-Owl does its quavering call off and on for well over ten minutes from a bit farther away, and the local passerines become a bit subdued.
All is calm down here in the bowl between ridgetops, but a fierce breeze is blowing up the west side of Sapsucker Ridge by 6:30, an odd occurrence as that is the side most sheltered from the rising sun. Six Barn Swallows ride the updraft to the sky above me, and are soon joined by Chimney Swifts.
Eastern Towhees are all around, some issuing buzz calls in addition to the astounding array of other sounds this species makes. Blue Jays rattle from the treetops, and woodpeckers of all species begin to converge on the black cherries. A male Blackburnian Warbler in fall plumage, not quite as spectacular as it is when breeding, becomes quite agitated just a few feet from me in the young locusts.
At 6:48 AM, the prey have a threat worse than owls to contend with. A Sharp-shinned Hawk, calling loudly, darts across the neck of the field and disappears into the woods by the powerline, pursued by Barn Swallows. Not more than a minute later, a Northern Flicker and Pileated Woodpecker burst out from the Laurel Ridge woods the hawk just came from and flap across to Sapsucker Ridge, a few yards above me. As I am reflecting on how odd it is that these two woodpeckers are flying together, more angry bird noises trail behind them, and a second Sharp-shinned Hawk explodes from cover and heads in the same direction as the woodpecker, pursued by a mob of songbirds. I would guess the pair of hawks are together and possibly related to one I saw occasionally during breeding season that I think was nesting somewhere on the southeast slopes of Brush Mountain. Just like last year, this species shows up to feast on the bird buffet attracted to the black cherries.
And just like last August 21st at dawn, a Broad-winged Hawk appears as well, and also dives into the cherry forest. This species is quite cryptic here in August, but I would suspect it’s also after songbirds.
In the evening, it’s the swallow show again on the balcony. Like yesterday, four yellow-gaped youngsters sit on the wires for long periods and the adults swoop in to feed them, but every so often, the juveniles also go hunting on their own. At one point, a noisy crowd of Barn Swallows chases a Fish Crow over my head and up Bald Eagle Creek.
I’m happy to see a trio of Black Vultures around again, as well a range of aerial species—over the last couple of day, this has included Bald Eagles, Red-tailed Hawks, and Turkey Vultures, as well as the ever-present Chimney Swifts, and at least one American Goldfinch twittering and flying jerkily away somewhere. The aerial activity has replaced song; almost nothing vocalizes now, and even the American Robins barely sing. Speaking of robins, I think the ones that roost in town are spending their days up in the black cherries, because I almost never see them around these days except briefly at dawn and dusk. The same can be said for the Cedar Waxwings.
Almost forgotten, a lone, quiet Eastern Phoebe flicks its tail silently on the bushes over by the creek. A Mourning Dove flies in to stare at me; as always, I wonder if food is expected.