Six AM Sunrise
On mornings with less time, I am finding it most productive to park at the Plummer’s Hollow Bridge over the Little Juniata River before 5:30 AM and search the most promising patches of forest on both sides of the tracks until seven. I’m glad to hear the chorus, but I’m particularly focused on a handful of scarce species that this activity could help me find. Balcony sitting is now much more interesting in the evening.
This morning, the Yellow Warbler is singing explosively before 5:30 outside the apartment; this is a species that doesn’t mess around, but from the little I have been able to see it, I’m unclear whether it has a mate yet. It will be our second warbler, after the Louisiana Waterthrush, to nest, raise young, and leave, well ahead of the first major migrant surge in late August.
Barn Swallows are also chittering loudly from somewhere in a crevice on our building row—already home to Northern Rough-winged Swallows, House Finches, House Sparrows, Chimney Swifts, and European Starlings.
The temperature along the tracks is 41; it’s crystal clear but quite breezy. I head first to the area around the Yellow Warbler Swamp and pond to see if I can catch some early Purple Martins, a species that still eludes me but which nests across the valley not far away. No luck, but I do see a steady stream of Chimney Swifts commuting over the fields in the distance, perhaps from the Tyrone population, off to make their daily rounds. Closer at hand, I can hear Canada Geese in the pond, now mostly hidden by foliage, while several pairs of American Redstarts rip back and forth across the tracks; this is one of their mostly densely populated locations in the hotspot.
Red-eyed Vireos are taking over. It’s truly astounding, within the overall decline of numbers among North American birds, how successful this species, and other vireos, are. By late May, there are some 100 breeding pairs of REVIs in the hotspot, I suspect outnumbering even the Ovenbirds. Today, they’re in the canopy, and appear to be mostly pair-bonded already. A pair of Warbling Vireos also flies in to check me out: it looks like they are nesting in terra nullius, making the total number of nesting pairs of this species as high as four in the hotspot, spread evenly along the river between the balcony and the pond, every 750 feet or so.
There is not as much activity today as there is on the warmer days, and no rarities, so I walk up into the lower Hollow far enough to get into the first Winter Wren territory (a day when I hear Winter Wren song is always superior to one I don’t). Several pairs apparently nest in the hotspot, but we’ve never garnered all the evidence to say that they are successful, given how secretive they are.
Acadian Flycatchers came back yesterday, but they’re still not in evidence this far down. Ditto the Eastern Wood-Pewee, which, however, finally shows up later in the morning, Mom reports. The pewee is the last of the common breeding species to arrive; the absent species now are local breeders that don’t nest anywhere in the hotspot, such as Orchard Oriole, Purple Martin, Alder and Willow Flycatcher, and Eastern Kingbird, and passage migrants to points north.
In the afternoon, I scan the NFC recordings, and the Plummer’s Hollow 200 swells to 168 species for the year with Wilson’s Warbler, Gray-cheeked Thrush, and Semipalmated Sandpiper. Plummer’s Hollow remains safely in the number 6 slot in Pennsylvania, some 10 species ahead of the competition and behind only Presque Isle State Park (2 hotspots), Middle Creek, and John Heinz National Wildlife Refuge (2 hotspots).
Wire-Sitters and Parking Lot Pugilists
An opinion I have heard from more than one visitor is how clogged the view is by utility wires. I always look on the bright side: it brings the local avifauna much closer to me than would otherwise be possible. It’s good for courting and fight in the spring, bringing out the fledglings in the summer, and staging a return to Latin America in the fall.
House Finches, which don’t go anywhere far, do become much less feral in breeding season. On Tuesday, most of the day, a female decided to nestle in the hanging fern on the porch that’s closest to the screen door. We thought it was nesting, but it hasn’t repeated the behavior. Nevertheless, when I sit on the balcony in the evenings, as I do today, the closest House Finch pair flies in to watch me:
Northern Rough-winged Swallows, which in some parts of their range nest in earthen holes excavated by other birds, for example along rivers, here appear to be nesting in building crevices. Before returning to roost, the local pair usually wire-sits within a few yards of me. This evening, one is still feeding somewhere, while the other sits on a wire across from me, maybe 15 yards away. Then it departs, and another arrives to sit on a closer wire for a bit:
Finally, the first one returns to its original perch, and, hunching down, puffs out its body. I think this is part of its courtship display, but in a cursory literature search I don’t find a reference to the behavior:
Farther away, I catch a rare glimpse of the resident Eastern Phoebe, which has largely been swallowed up by foliage and drowned out by the newer returnees. Thankfully, there are some bare trees about:
Then the fun begins. Two pairs of robins are facing off in the municipal parking lot, disputing the invisible line that separates their territories. The females are initially nearby as well, but they quickly move away:
The two males circle each other and face off. Then they go at it for a couple seconds:
Things calm down for a bit, but it’s not over yet. They remain oblivious to my presence on the balcony less than 10 yards away.
Rounds Two and Three
After maybe 20 seconds, they’re circling each other again, and a second tussle erupts:
This one dies down quickly, only to flare up again in a final round less than a minute later:
After that, it’s all over, and they go back to their mates and their territories. I’m not sure anything was really settled here, but as American Robins do, I suppose they’ll be back tomorrow for more.