Ruddy Turnstone
May 27, 2023 was a rather uneventful night near the end of spring migration. The spectrum was dominated by Swainson’s Thrushes and Grasshopper Sparrows. At 1:08 AM, a shorebird called; I later found the call, clipped it, and filed it away in the Mystery Shorebirds folder. Months later, on the hunt for 200, it has passed muster as a Ruddy Turnstone, Plummer’s Hollow 200 #188 in the sequence, pushing the year’s total to 197. The individual was migrating to its breeding grounds on the high Arctic tundra of northern Canada. It also elevates the all-time species list to 223, #54 in Pennsylvania and one species shy of a multi-way tie for #49.
Birthday Dickcissel
Since the beginning of May, I’ve been combing the spectrum for the distinctive rattle-buzz of the Dickcissel. A few breed around Pennsylvania, but most are found in grain-farming areas of the central US. In 2022, Plummer’s Hollow recorded its first one, on Big Day in May, and a couple others through the end of September. This year, I’ve been compiling a folder of possible Dickcissel calls, but most if not all are early-rising Northern Rough-winged Swallows or other unknowns. By October, I had given up on an unquestionable Dickcissel for the 200 challenge.
Then, on October 12th, I was scrolling through uneventful October nights, with little wind, few bugs, and virtually no NFCs. The Swainson’s and Gray-cheeked thrushes are mostly gone, while the Hermit Thrushes are beginning to make an appearance. In the midst of hours of silence, at 11:50 PM on October 8th, finally, a perfect Dickcissel! This low-flying individual was presumably crossing Pennsylvania from northwest to southeast, heading to migratory stopover grounds on the Atlantic Seaboard before heading to wintering grounds in the Venezuelan llanos. Plummer’s Hollow 200 # 198.
As I write this in Sunday, October 15, I just finished scrolling through the banner night of Oct. 12-13. There were Rose-breasted Grosbeaks, Wood Thrushes (late), Veeries (very late), American Robins, Gray-cheeked Thrushes, Swainson’s Thrushes, and large numbers of Hermit Thrushes clogging the spectrum the entire night, not to mention Green Herons and Great Blue Herons, shorebirds, American Pipits, late warblers, myriad White-throated Sparrows, many unknowns…and what appear to be a couple more Dickcissels, though not as close as the one from October 8th. It could well be that the last couple of birds for the 200 passed over that night, but it may be weeks before I have time to go through the thousands of calls.
A Slow Week on the Balcony
Compared to the Dickcissel, the week of October 9th was one of the least eventful of the year. Monday (16 spp.), Tuesday (17 spp.), Wednesday (15 spp.), and Friday (18 spp.) were all balcony sits with a somewhat remarkable regularity. Species mostly met the dawn according to their allotted sequence, without any real surprises. The weather was delightful, however.
Monday
Clear, cold, ice on the windshield. I hear a single White-throated Sparrow NFC, the faintest echo of the untold hundreds up on the mountain, so far a statewide record number for the year.
Waterfowl are still scarce, other than flocks of migrant Canada Geese nearly every day and sometimes at night. All I see these days of Mallards is a rather skittish pair flying rapidly between watering holes in town and out through the Gap. (The pond remains empty of birds.)
Tuesday
The Moon and Venus are close neighbors.
The first Song Sparrow, our most consistent dawn songster, doesn’t start up until seven. This one has the song right; no more weird, scratchy subsongs. A Gray Catbird calls faintly.
American Crows have become quite predictable, commuting high over town from their roost and toward the action in the Gap and Plummer’s Hollow. They tend to move in a couple main groups, with a few stragglers, and finish by 7:30. Of the close to 100 crows around, only 30 to 40 go over the balcony on a typical dawn.
Another bird that is as regular as clockwork is the Bald Eagle. There is an adult as well as a juvenile hanging around, and I often see them together. Some mornings, they’re the first species visible, invariably heading to prime fishing spots in the Gap or downriver.
Every day, the House Sparrows start up a racket from the 10th Street hedges around 7:18 AM, give or take five minutes. Every day, a few minutes later, pipping groups of European Starlings plummet down from behind me into the area beyond the interstate. There aren’t more than 20 or 30 total these days, and they spend much of their time jostling for position on the exit ramp light posts.
Every day, without fail, a lone White-breasted Nuthatch shows up not long after 7:30. It comes from somewhere downriver and invariably dives into the trees along Bald Eagle Creek.
Today, an Eastern Towhee, never a common species this close to the balcony, ‘reeps’ once. Carolina Wrens, a Northern Cardinal, some House Finches, an American Goldfinch, a couple American Robins, a Cedar Waxwing, and, sooner or later, a Common Raven. And that’s all she wrote. (Oh yes, and Rock Pigeons, commuting over the mountain as always, but at 10 to 20% of their September numbers.) Overall numbers of dawn birds both seen and heard has plummeted by up to 90% from September; I haven’t seen this few individuals or species since February. The explanation? All the good food is elsewhere right now.
Mom has the most exciting bird encounter of the week today. Around 10:30 AM, she sees a pair of Merlins in the spruce grove. This is the first time we have recorded a pair in Plummer’s Hollow.
Wednesday
Today is very much a repeat of yesterday, so I won’t bore you with the details. It is nice to see crows playing as they fly—a pair is tumbling and chasing among a larger flock undertaking the daily commute over to Sapsucker Ridge.
Today, I sit out all the way to 8 AM when the church bells sound, apparently the reason a flock of American Robins flushes over my head. No Canada Geese this morning, unusual given how many have been around. The sun, which has moved quite a ways north along the dipping ridge of Bald Eagle Mountain, finally blazes onto the porch at 8:01 AM.
In the evening, I sit out to catch the last of the action, but it’s mostly crickets. At 6:27 PM, 71 Canada Geese go over in a V, and a single Carolina Wren calls at 6:36 PM. Possibly, a Song Sparrow sings. And that’s it.
Around 10:00 PM, I head up the Hollow by car to listen for saw-whet owls. Nothing. I do occasionally pick this species up on the antenna, but I don’t yet have a good system for finding it during migration. I don’t want to dip on this one, but we’ve got another month.
Friday
Clear and 39 today at 6:47 AM, with wispy clouds creeping in from the north. They always seem to start as steam from the paper mill, and end up turning into generalized fog.
The dawn chorus today is solid Song Sparrow. An individual in the confluence, oblivious to the season, beats out even the Carolina Wren, and sings every few seconds for much of the seven-o’clock hour.
Finally, a change: after a nice, strung-out crow commute overhead every day over the last week, they are all but absent today.
At 7:48 AM, a Yellow-rumped Warbler zooms into a nearby sycamore, chipping non-stop. It zips this way and that and finally launches off through the air over my head, toward somewhere else in town.