Paul Revere?
Friday dawn: garage. 5:44 AM and a cloudy 62. I’m trying to increase my amount of field neck sits as cherries ripen and migrant numbers increase.
This morning is another dew bath and bug bonanza. I watch Wood Thrushes, Eastern Towhees, and Gray Catbirds all fly back and forth across the field to find perches and then call. By 6:04, the local Wood Thrushes in the deep woods are high up in the trees and quite excited, but as is typical this time of year, all this early activity dies down around 6:15.
Merlin keeps up, but when I get up out of my chair and my boots squeak, “Great Egret” is confirmed, once again. I shall henceforth refer to my footwear as “egrets.”
Later in the six o’clock hour, I welcome back a Baltimore Oriole. It’s the first I’ve detected in a while, here to feed on cherries. Numbers of Scarlet Tanagers, Gray Catbirds, and Rose-breasted Grosbeaks are steady or up; it will be interesting to see what happens when I have more time tomorrow.
This morning, I only have time for a quick visit to the spruce grove, and I’m glad to hear the “chuck” of a Brown Thrasher, though it never shows itself. This species becomes so cryptic after breeding season that again this year I am unable to determine whether it ever leaves the property until the fall migrants show up.
Over on Laurel Ridge, a larger-than-robin shape hunches on a snag. Merlin! Before I can snap a pic, it’s off, over my head, over the spruce grove, silently heading toward the winds battering Sapsucker Ridge, and out of sight.
Yesterday, David Snyder, an old friend of mine and mayor of the nearby town of Bellwood, informed me that a Merlin has recently taken up residence in the town. Folks have named it “Paul Revere” after its tendency to call incessantly. I can’t help wondering if the Merlins I see from time to time up here and in Tyrone, the one in Bellwood, and those in Altoona, are same, or related.
Osprey Wind
At 1 PM, I step out onto the balcony in time to watch a migrating Osprey circle a few times overhead, then head on south. There’s a stiff breeze, puffy clouds, and all the indications of a change in the weather. I saw that a local hawk match had recorded a couple dozen Broad-winged Hawks yesterday, so I move my work to the porch for a bit to see what else shows up.
Within minutes, a second Osprey hurdles down the migratory flightpath, barely slowing down over the Gap, and continues south along Brush Mountain. Ten minutes after that, and just before 1:30, a third Osprey does the same.
Local raptors are also catching the updrafts, including a Cooper’s Hawk that circles up from nearby woods until it’s above Bald Eagle Mountain.
On Saturday, it arrives. Cool, dry Canadian air; a touch of September, a hint of October. North winds mean migrants, and though we’re two to three weeks off peak, I expect numbers to be up today. I’m not disappointed.
Crystal clear at the garage and the temperature is in the mid-50s. I get there in time to perhaps catch a thrush descent, but am disappointed (later, checking the spectrum, I see that a small number of Veeries and Swainson’s Thrushes went over two nights ago at this time). At least the Whip-Poor-Will is still calling, though it’s pretty far off.
A dry high means the bugs will be down. I don’t even need a chemical dose. It’s all pretty glorious, even if the dew is as heavy as always, soaking my egrets through in an instant.
I count around 40 species in a single patch of woods and wild grape tangles before 7:05, as activity reaches a crescendo in the early sunlight. At one point, three Ruby-throated Hummingbirds chase each other across the field. The only new species for the season is a Cape May Warbler, at least at this spot.
From Cerulean to Indigo
Warblers of all the species I’ve been seeing this summer, Scarlet Tanagers by the dozen, Red-eyed Vireos probably by the hundreds, and pretty much every other species I have recorded so far in August: they’re either eating the cherries, eating the gnats and flies attracted to the cherries, or hammering caterpillars again limbs to make them more palatable. With so many birds, it’s hard to pick a direction. The strategy of it lies in guessing how much time to spend at each place in the awareness that activity tapers off toward a day-long lull that starts early, around 9 AM.
I decide to head north along the edge of First Field, then check out the wilderness of mile-a-minute over in the area of Greenbriar and Bird Count trail before circling back and seeing what’s in the spruce grove and Far Field.
As it turns out, Cerulean Warblers and Least Flycatchers are the stars of the 7 o’clock hour. Male Ceruleans have gathered in a group at the tops of the black cherries and are singing. Not to be outdone, two separate groups of Least Flycatchers—seven in all, a hotspot record—are perching and sallying in the black locusts, singing and calling. I approach within a few feet of them.
Today, there are few bird-less voids in-between the major congregations. Nevertheless, by the time I reach the mile-a-minute wilderness, it takes a little coaxing, as they’re already more interested in feeding than calling.
One after another, the high-species alerts pop up on the eBird tally. Acadian Flycatcher (6), Scarlet Tanager (31), Red-eyed Vireo (83), Eastern Wood-Pewee (23), Black-and-white Warbler (16), Rose-breasted Grosbeak (9). Each of these numbers in the dozens if not the hundreds right now in the hotspot, from what I can tell, but it is nearly impossible to detect them after 10 AM.
After I circle back south, the only places I can find birds are in the coolest places under the canopy. I trudge on to the Far Field, and come upon a pair of Cathartes aura, trying like heck to figure out whether or not I’m a threat.
Eventually, the adult takes off, and what looks like the juvenile hangs out for a few more minutes, craning its neck at me. What extraordinarily expressive and appealing creatures they are!
Eventually, four Turkey Vultures are circling in the heavy breeze just over the tops of the locusts, their shadows zooming around me in circles.
The morning’s tally is 63 species and 658 individuals, with the highest number belonging to Cedar Waxwings, at 98.
You’re a really eloquent writer Mark. But I guess you know that. :)