June 2024
Ups, downs, and a superstar
[Note 7/7/24: text has been edited to removed reference to Pectoral Sandpipers in June (they may have been Baird’s or something else) and to acknowledge that NFCs of Red Knots have been recorded before this in the PA mts]
Migration’s End
For many species, the 2024 northward migration was at least a week ahead of last year, and it ended around a week earlier. In 2023, the last Swainson’s Thrush that the NFC microphone on the garage roof picked up was on June 16; this, year, it was June 3. Last year, the last Gray-cheeked Thrush was an all-time late June 10; this year, June 3 (with the SWTH):
Other transients also dwindled quickly in late May and early June, with the exception of a lone Spotted Sandpiper on June 9th, a week later than 2023. June 4 saw the last identifiable warbler NFC, a Chestnut-sided:
On June 8 came the last zeep call, possibly from the last of the Blackpoll Warblers. Last year, that last zeep sounded at midnight on June 17.
This is just the second year I’ve recorded every night in June, but it seems as if 2024 is more what one would normally expect. That is, the last trickle of calls, sometimes in bunches, are recorded the first week of June; the second week picks up a tiny handful (none, or a couple, per night); the second half of the month is silent except for night songs and local calls of breeding residents. Things begin to pick up again around the 4th of July, and after mid-July, before the insect chorus covers it over, the southward migration swells, mixed with the NFCs of local-ish species such as Grasshopper Sparrows and Veeries, which may be moving to new territories or engaging in molt-migration.
During June 2023, the migration never really seemed to end. Indigo Buntings and Chipping Sparrows went through until June 21st, and American Redstarts, Black-and-white Warblers, and Wood Thrushes were on the move before the end of the month. Could this have been due to the massive fires in the Canadian North Woods? Whatever the case, this year it has been utter silence since that last teetertail went over on June 9th:
Here and there were an Ovenbird and an Indigo Bunting, but these seemed more like locals transiting our woods and fields.
Shorebirds and Rails Galore
Every year seems to bring a different combination of shorebirds, with the core species quite predictable and the rare ones always surprising. The regulars did not disappoint in 2024, except for Lesser Yellowlegs, which did not produce a single verifiable call. But Greater Yellowlegs, Spotted and Solitary sandpipers, Dunlin, Least Sandpiper, Semipalmated Sandpiper, Pectoral Sandpiper, and Semipalmated Plover (not to mention Killdeer, Wilson’s Snipe, and American Woodcock) all flew over sooner or later. They were joined by the first-ever Willet on April 30. No-shows after first-ever appearances last year were Ruddy Turnstone, Short-billed Dowitcher, and Whimbrel. (First-ever Fall shorebirds were Upland Sandpiper last August, American Golden-Plover in September, and Black-bellied Plover in October—hopefully, we will see a repeat this year.)
As for Rallidae, it was a middling spring for Virginia Rail, but that was offset by first-ever American Coots on multiple occasions, as well as Common Gallinule for the second year, and several Soras. Around 2 AM on June 3, the last Sora of the season went over:
and two nights later, something that almost seemed like a Sora to me was picked up at 3:35 AM. It consisted of three double, upward notes with harmonics —poor-mee— and then a single, upward note; the whole thing lasted 12 seconds.
I emailed two local NFC gurus at Penn State, Joe Gyekis and Julia Plummer, as I tend to do with unknown calls, and the elated response came back quickly: the call on the 3rd is definitely a Sora, but the flight song on the 5th is a Red Knot!
Wonderful news, indeed. A new species for the hotspot (#228 overall, and #186 for 2024) and for Blair County (#262). I would guess that our 12-second knot was fresh off a horseshoe crab feed in Delaware Bay, where this large Calidris sandpiper fattens up before the final leg to the high Arctic to breed. Indeed, presuming it was a member of the increasingly rare Calidris canutus rufa subspecies, it was one of maybe 30,000 that survive.
Red Knot is a “jump” migrant, flying over 4,000 miles in a single leg between feeding grounds. This individual might have been from a wintering population no farther away than the Gulf of Mexico, or it might have come all the way from Patagonia—truly one of Earth’s greatest wanderers. Here in the Pennsylvania mountains, the species has only been recorded a handful of times, and just once before via NFC; in 2024, it has so far been recorded elsewhere in Pennsylvania as a few flocks in the far southeastern part of the state.
Night Songs
Another year of nightly recordings is providing a finer-grained understanding of what species regularly sing during the day as well as the night, and when this happens.
The Field Sparrow is the undisputed champion in this category, with multiple males looking for additional mates from the beginning of breeding season on. Like the rest of the nocturnal singers, their videogame trills reach a crescendo in May and diminish gradually in June. Another sparrow that sings at night, but only occasionally—and perhaps only because it’s startled by something—is the Song Sparrow. Eastern Towhee is a similar case—I detect its reeps at all hours of the night, but they sometimes immediately follow a branch cracking or a deer snorting. Chipping Sparrows also trill now and then in the darkness.
The Ovenbird, another abundant breeder, does a complex mimic song at regular intervals until close to the end of June. It has snatches of the daytime teacher sound, but is otherwise a jumble of copied phrases. Occasionally, something that sounds like another warbler goes off, but I haven’t ID’ed anything definite yet.
Red-eyed Vireos and Yellow-throated Vireos seem to sing in night flight during migration, but not from perches, though it is quite hard to tell in May, when this phenomenon happens. Here is a Yellow-throated (with spring peepers) on May 22:
Other passerines sing occasionally at night during breeding season: Northern Cardinal (it does this all year, except perhaps in the depths of winter), Common Yellowthroat (every few nights, a solitary wichety-wichety-wichety), Indigo Bunting, and extemely rarely after migration finishes, Rose-breasted Grosbeaks, Scarlet Tanagers, and Baltimore Orioles.
Flycatchers are another story. They seem to both call and sing while flying over in migration and from night perches as transients and as breeding residents. Eastern Wood-Pewee is the most notable example, with at least one nearby individual singing at intervals throughout the night, into July. Most of the Empids call and sing, seemingly in flight, with Yellow-bellied Flycatcher, nearly impossible to find on the ground, a stand-out in late May this year. I rely on NFCs to detect Willow and Alder flycatchers, as they barely ever linger on the property during the day in the spring (when they’re identifiable to species). This year, though, they bombed—we missed the Willow altogether, and the Alder vocalized only once. ditto the Eastern Kingbird—no NFC (yet) and no daytime visual. But at least we have Acadian Flycatchers—dozens of breeding pairs. And for the first time, once vocalized close by during breeding season—they don’t breed near the antenna, so perhaps this was a male wandering from a nearby territory (June 30 at 1:46 AM):
Finally, a Great Crested Flycatcher as well, at 4:03 AM on May 23, presumably one of the large number that came through this year (only a tiny handful seems to have stayed to breed). I think this one was an enthusiastic crepuscular singer, however:
And the list goes on. The crepuscular species and those returning late to roost also call or sing at times throughout the night: Whip-poor-will, Killdeer, Green Heron, Great Blue Heron. The two cuckoos, Black-billed and Yellow-billed, sing and call abundantly at night in migration, then from the ground as transients and as breeders, but fade to just one or two vocalizations a night by the end of June. Barred Owls let loose with series of ghastly shrieks and moans, at times mixing with the equally eerie local raccoons, through the summer while the other owls are largely silent.
And the oddities: American Goldfinch calls can happen anytime, and the antenna even picked up what sounds like a goldfinch night song on July 5 at 12:47 AM:
Mourning Dove. Gray Catbird. In other years, Common Raven, American Crow, Eastern Bluebird, and with every season, the list grows longer.
Ups and Downs
I was in Australia for half of June, but from what I could gather, it has been a banner summer so far for European Starlings, Common Grackles, American Goldfinches, and Cedar Waxwings. For awhile, I thought goldfinches were going to move on but they are in every nook and cranny of the hotspot now, by the dozens, if not the hundreds. Their vocalizations are making me even more dizzy than the effects of the endless 90-degree, high-humidity days. I do believe this will end up being known as the Year of the Goldfinches. Meanwhile, far more starlings than last year are already flocking and moving back and forth from roosts, in the hundreds. Grackles are also on the move and dawn and dusk, in the dozens if not yet in the hundreds.
There seem to be only a few downs this summer. For a while, I was thinking that Carolina Wrens, Brown Thrashers, Northern Rough-winged Swallows, Belted Kingfishers, and Baltimore Orioles were on the way out, but by July, they’ve re-emerged, louder and more active (and more numerous) than ever. Not so much Cliff Swallows, not to mention House Wrens: these have once again opted against nesting at the edge of First Field, and possibly anywhere else in the hotspot. And of those record-high numbers of Winter Wrens that wintered along the tracks and river, none stayed on to nest in the Hollow. As for raptors, the gang’s all here, or somewhere near, but sadly, there was no evidence of Broad-winged Hawk this year (perhaps because Red-tailed Hawks nested nearby?).
Otherwise, as I’ll discuss in another post, the woods are bursting with woodpeckers, Wood Thrushes, Scarlet Tanagers, Rose-breasted Grosbeaks, vireos, and breeding warblers. Life goes on.
