I go into today knowing I won’t be back to the dawn field again until next Thursday, October 5th. The way birds are moving this time of year, that means I almost certainly won’t be seeing a few of the migrants again until next April or May. Some, like the Wood Thrushes, I might not see but they will probably still register on the might spectrum for another week or two. However, I also expect to see some new species or at least larger numbers of some that have been barely present so far this season.
This Saturday is a walk-out from town, starting around 5:20 AM, because it’s never too early to listen for saw-whet owls. The temperature is in the low 60s and humid, so much so that I’m sweating profusely with my day pack on long before I reach the field.
Eastern Towhees scatter, ‘reep’-ing as I pass by on my way to the neck. I flop down and tear into my coffee thermos, as the sweat turns to chill. I hear only a few Swainson’s Thrushes and a lone Gray-cheeked, and at 6:26, what sounds for all the world like a Spring Peeper sounds off from the wet area around the deer exclosure on the Laurel Ridge side of the neck.
It’s a slow towhee dawn today that begins at 6:34, with the first non-towhee identifiable calls those of Northern Cardinals at 6:45. I wonder at the lack of Wood Thrushes, but one finally begins to cluck at 6:47. The whole performance today is lackluster, without a single song. Hooded Warbler is quiet or gone (as it turns out later, gone).
Once again, Blue Jays start early and fly over often. Warblers seem to be nearly absent; at least, they’re nowhere around the sit spot. Today, I pick up stakes and head to the spruce grove first, after a pink sunrise that lasts all of two minutes. No matter: the forecast is for clear and warm.
The first song of the day, other than Carolina Wrens from all sides, is an Indigo Bunting. This time, it’s definitely singing goodbye. As I head up the field, I hear the first of several Blue-headed Vireos singing as well. It could be that this is the only vireo species left, and if we’re lucky, it will be here through early November.
Kinglets!
The black birches to the left of the field trail are covered with warblers: mostly Black-throated Greens, it turns out. Two other cool species are also about, and in numbers: the kinglets, Ruby-throated (finally!) and Golden-crowned. Early in the season, we’ve had a few of each, but the big flocks—and we get some of the higher numbers in the state here—show up in October.
The spruce grove is humming with bird life. Young Ovenbirds are seemingly everywhere, even in the goldenrod. They have not learned to be too wary, yet. Chipping Sparrows, surprisingly, are gone, and Red-breasted Nuthatches, another spruce grove regular, are still not back, if indeed they plan to spend another winter with us. Scarlet Tanagers? Gone. Rose-breasted Grosbeaks are still around, up in the black cherries; I can hear them, but I don’t see any. An American Robin flock is flying around in the cherries down on Sapsucker Ridge; I expect their numbers will be increasing steeply as they transition to the abundant wild grape crops.
After a while, the ruckus of the Blue Jays, doing every call you can imagine, attracts a Sharp-shinned Hawk on the prowl, and everything falls silent.
Wagtail Warblers
I head on to the Far Field as the morning starts to turn sunny. A male Pine Warbler and a buzzing crowd of over 50 Cedar Waxwings are about, but little else.
Back in First Field, two Sharp-shinned Hawks are now interacting, diving at each other before going their separate directions. The Turkey Vultures are also up, and the monarchs, and a growing number of spotted lanternflies.
In the yard, the black walnuts are losing their leaves quickly. Eastern Phoebes are moving through, calling, singing, and wagging their tails incessantly. A Song Sparrow poses in an elm on the edge of the field and sings a subsong. And then finally, the warbler that wags its tail. Palm Warblers seems to prefer the upper and lower side of the field and few other places on the property; they’re one of our characteristic October warblers.
The Feast of the Lanternflies
Despite the late hour, I still need to check out the mile-a-minute jungles over on Bird Count Trail on the way back to town. As usual, the woods beyond the field are deceptively silent after 10 AM, but as I approach the ghostly ruins of snags and sparse living trees—legacy of ice storms and loggings—covered by wild grapes, mile-a-minute, multiflora rose, privet, and barberry, a few cardinals can be heard. I play the standard vireo and screech-owl, and the show begins.
Behind me, the Hercule’s club, a native tree with doubly composite leaves, is fruiting, but it is ignored. The cloud of warblers, vireos, cardinals, jays, tits, and thrushes are going for other meals. Cardinals are gobbling down wild grapes, while a male Black-throated Blue Warbler smashes a large insect against a branch, then tilts back its head and gulps down the lanternfly whole. A male Cape May Warbler does the same. Ruby-crowned Kinglets stick to eating the diminutive blue seeds of the mile-a-minute. A Tufted Titmouse, once of myriad I see today, perches with a mashed yellowjacket in its mouth.
Red-eyed Vireos are still here. The second one I see is accompanied by a very yellow Philadelphia Vireo. Northern Parula, Blackpoll Warbler, Bay-breasted Warbler: middle- and late-season species are feasting as well. A small group of Tennessee Warblers appears to also be feeding on the lanternflies. Above, the sky is dotted with the invasive insect; though it has recently been pointed out that the species is not going to be as devastating to our state as had previously been thought, it’s still nice to see biological pest control at work.
After the tangles, I head into the deeper woods along Ten Springs Trail, paralleling the Hollow road. I hear and see many flocks of titmice (55) and Black-capped Chickadees (48), with the largest numbers of both species I’ve recorded all year. I suspect these are irruptive movements, not true migrations. There are definitely too many (in the 100s for both on the hotspot today, I would guess) to be the locals only. This also goes for the jays, which are basically everywhere; I end up with one more than the record set on Thursday.
Yet again, I see a Red-eyed Vireo and a Philadelphia Vireo together, this time on an ailanthus making its way upward through a hole in the canopy. The Philly is doing its characteristic scold.
Woodpeckers, as well, are in even higher numbers today than they usually are. Four Yellow-bellied Sapsuckers is a considerably haul here, and I’m sure there are many more of this somewhat unassuming species about.
The last impression I get of a mountain dripping with birds is of a mixed flock at the blow-down area in the lowest part of the Hollow, where I watched a pewee nest many months ago. Migrant thrushes are bedded down in this area, in the gloom; I hear and see a couple Wood Thrushes and another Hermit Thrush for the day.
In the outside world, it’s hot and bird-less, save for Rock Pigeons and a young Bald Eagle. At 62 species, I call it a day.