Gray and cold. 6:31 AM. A nameless sparrow ‘seeps’ as it flies across the tracks in the malodorous wake of a garbage train. The harsh breeze stirred by the cars dies down and I cross to pondside. Already, there’s faint quacking from the far end, as muskrats swim here and there. A Song Sparrow clanks, and then a Carolina Wren trills.
Splashdown
Mallards arrive between 6:39 and 6:41. They’re mostly already in pairs, with a few singles, some 35 in all. Chasing, splashing, and quacking ensues, followed by active feeding in the water and up on land.
The first American Black Duck plummets down at 6:45, initially staying by itself, but gradually it eases over toward a duck and drake that are off to the right. A Winter Wren calls close at hand, then another; a third calls behind me—debating whose brush pile is whose, perhaps, or complaining at my presence. The agitation continues for a minute or two, then silence.
The second ABDU arrives. It swims over to where the first is hanging out with the Mallard pair; a bit of pecking ensues between black ducks and Mallards, and then the separate pairs drift away to feed.
On the way back, at 6:55 AM, as a Downy Woodpecker trills, a White-breasted Nuthatch arcs up over the tracks from a riverside tree to a snag above the tracks, its timing impeccable. I have a vision of all the local nuthatches leaving their roosts at the same instant. A mute pair of Common Ravens drifts through the space between the mountains.
At some point later in the day, a commotion out in the peppermint trough on the balcony reveals a curious Winter Wren bouncing about in the gardening junk.
Patchy Frost
Saturday is a classic late fall dawn, with icy roofs and clear air. Today, with projected northwest winds, it’s time for an eagle watch, but first, I trek up to the spruce grove to see what finches are about.
American Goldfinches and Pine Siskins don’t disappoint, with dozens of both species flying over in all directions, emitting their wild, excited calls. On one recent antenna day, the siskins started up at 6 AM, but mostly they are on the move between 6:45 and 7: 30 AM. There’s so much food about that neither species has shown up to Mom’s feeder, I’ve heard.
Cedar Waxwings are thronging in the treetops as the other November species wake up sluggishly. Numbers of sparrows finally appear to be dropping, except for Dark-eyed Juncos, which favor the thick bushes near the house as well as the depths of the spruce grove. Back at the garage, I hear a convincing Red-tailed Hawk with just enough of a note at the end of its screech to give away a Blue Jay.
Grassy Knoll
A bit after 9 AM, I park on the grass by the interstate, below the big slide. From here, it’s a quick walk up to an old road to nowhere that provides sweeping views of some 20 miles of Appalachian Front to the west, a few miles of Logan/Bald Eagle Valley, all of Tyrone, and the northwest-southeast raptor migration highway from the towers at Bald Eagle Mountain down along Brush.
For seeing raptors, it’s not nearly as good a vantage point as the balcony, since they often disappear behind the trees along the ridge crest behind me, even though I can pick up most of them for a minute or two around the towers before they cross the Gap. The real advantage here over the balcony is the westward panorama. Birds migrating north to south can be seen much better here than back at the house where I might have a second or two between rooftop and ridgetop.
Case in point: at 10:22, three distant shapes emerge, high above the wind turbine, heading over Tyrone. I have plenty of time to watch a trio of Common Loons until they disappear over the trees above me. This is the first (and probably the last) time I’ll see the species this fall.
The roar of the highway directly below is overwhelming, as thousands of fans stream toward Beaver Stadium. The overpass is much louder here than at the balcony, with the echoing rasping over empty space colliding with acceleration and deceleration from the ramps. Among the crown vetch, shale, and leafless privets, I recede to a noise-cancelling podcast for a couple hours.
The breeze barely gets started, but every time it does, a raptor of some type appears. Between 10:40 and 1:20, just four Golden Eagles go over, each separately and in association with one or more Red-tailed Hawks. Earlier, the hawks seem to move up the Valley—they would be invisible to a watcher on the balcony—but after 12, they shift to the top of Sapsucker Ridge. The Goldens all emerge to the left (west) of the towers and head straight at me, without circling, passing overhead and south.
At 11:23 AM, a juvenile Bald Eagle, one of the locals, sweeps around the mountain from the Gap, closely following the Little Juniata southward. Off beyond Grazierville, four Black Vultures are circling.
Five minutes later, a small gull rushes overhead, barely clearing the treetops, heading south. Bonaparte’s Gull, only one of the year so far (Plummer’s Hollow 200 #201)! This is another southbound migrant that, like the loons, is better seen from a west-facing perch.
At noon, an arrow-straight Golden Eagle dwarfs a circling Red-tailed Hawk over the towers, but they are soon swamped by up to 60 American Crows, the bulk of the local flock that is diving and swirling about the trees between ridgetop and highway. Later, despite the near lack of wind, the unpleasant smell of Burger King catches up with me all the way over here.