Things are back to normal in the human world today. The snowstorm came and went, and now, at 35, it’s nothing but drips. Blustery, but the wind seems somehow warm.
That Finch
The snowy interlude didn’t shuffle the birds around too much, but there are a few notable absences. With the return of the noise curtain, I’m hearing none of the soft calls from the brush across the river. More surprisingly, there are no ravens in the 45 minutes I’m out. The House Sparrows also aren’t making noise in my corner this earlier.
I’m about to give a nickname to the House Finch that flies over. Today, at 7:31, same time as yesterday, with the same call as yesterday, and the same flight path over my head toward what I assume is a feeding spot. We’ll see how long it keeps up this rhythm.
The one species that seems energized by the gusts is the Bald Eagle. By 7:20 AM, an adult is already circling over Sapsucker Ridge. It disappears heading south, but at 7:37, it or another reappears in the same area of sky. In an abundance of caution, this counts as one. Then, at 7:51, what is definitely a second adult lifts up over Bald Eagle Mountain. This makes a minimum of three local eagles, given that on most days I also see a juvenile.
The Downy Woodpecker is calling from a different spot and quite agitated, over beyond the drive-through bank across the river. I never do see what it’s getting worked up about.
A single American Robin rounds out today’s show.
No Later Dawn
Sunrise is now at around 7:27 AM. On March 11, getting quite close to equinox, it will be back at 6:29. Then, though the birds will take little notice, it will “spring ahead” to 7:27 on the 12th. Entirely a human construction, this Daylight Savings, and quite annoying if you’re a morning person on the verge of spring. Nevertheless, after that, it’s all backward to the June 15th sunrise at 5:39:41 AM. I’ll be out on the balcony, or wherever, by 4:30 AM, looks like.
Nadir?
At nine species this morning, it’s getting pretty meager out there. Last year, when I started thinking about how I was going to sit through the darkest dawns of winter, I dreaded a day when nothing stirred. That’s not yet been the case and hopefully won’t be, but it will be several more weeks until an upswing in species numbers begins, I suspect. Meanwhile, I am still on high alert for the flight call of some redpoll, crossbill, siskin, or grosbeak, or even a Purple Finch. So far, though, the winter has brought none of these to the hotspot.
Quality, not Quantity
Fewer birds = more attention to details, I guess. After work, I huff it over to the pond to see what the duck crowd is making of the quickly disappearing snow. Two, a Mallard duck/drake pair, were on the Juniata, but the rest are crowded into their normal corner of the pond, which two quite industrious muskrats have been helping keep open. The muskrats, this evening, are perched placidly above the slush, chomping on limbs. They’re unconcerned by my presence.
Before the flock departs, I scan for the wigeon, but I can’t spot it today. When the ducks lift off, I spot the Wood Duck drake among them.
On the hike back, I hear a White-throated Sparrow emit its final three ‘seeps’ of the day, after 5, as the light gets later. Just after I close out the checklist, a Pileated Woodpecker erupts from Bald Eagle Mountain, cackling furiously as it flaps over the Gap, over my head, and onto Laurel Ridge. For whatever reason, it does not alight but instead turns around and heads back across the Gap, back into Bald Eagle, cackling non-stop until it is lost from view. I swear I can hear it for another minute, but perhaps those are just echoes in my own brain.
Back in town, the Rock Pigeons are up and about, past the bedtime of the wild birds. House Sparrows, as well, are flitting by the lights on Pennsylvania Avenue, and as I pull up to home, around 5:20 PM, a Cooper’s Hawk calls softly from the riverside willows.