Mystery Nest
I’m happy to report that on this quiet Sunday I finally surpassed the 2023 balcony sit record of 24 that I set on January 1. In just over an hour, starting at 6:35 AM (OK, probably too late for Mourning Doves), I detected 25 species, only dipping on vultures, red-tails, and a few others.
I don’t think the day itself was extraordinary; what changed was the traffic noise, and the fact that only a single train went by, at 6:30 PM (yes, Norfolk Southern: save the 2X daily Amtrak, they all are).
From Geese to Gulls
First up is Canada Geese, a small flock heard at 6:35 AM. The American Robin begins singing at minute later, and a Song Sparrow starts ‘tseep’-ing, though it doesn’t sing until 6:45. Part of the 15-minute time difference from yesterday can be explained by today’s cloudiness, and part by the fact that there isn’t much of a SOSP population around here, as compared to our field, I guess.
The junkyard raven starts up at 6:42 with a frenetic, high-pitched call I’ve not heard it make before. For the next 18 minutes, it emits honks and croaks at different frequencies, a more varied repertoire than I’ve heard all year; finally, right at 7, it wings off low toward the Gap.
I’ve already detected 16 species by 7 AM. The only surprise today is Rock Pigeons: just a few lift off, and they are inexplicably late, starting at 7:09.
The robins are becoming increasingly agitated and strident. They’re making a variety of calls, and singing non-stop, from around town. One spends much of the morning in the dead ash tree in front.
At 7:23, two Ring-billed Gulls fly over from the southwest, then turn and head north. They’re close over my head, and like the lone individual did on Friday, they appear to be closely inspecting the landscape.
A pair of Downy Woodpeckers lands on the dead ash. They stay close; perhaps they’re an item. If I’m lucky, I’ll get to see some of their spectacular ‘butterfly’ courtship behavior later in the season; probably not here, but somewhere in the hotspot.
On Friday, the Common Grackle trio landed on the sycamore for the second day in a row, but today, they go over high up, evincing no interest in our local trees.
At 7:38, a male and female Common Merganser fly over going east, and I’m off the same direction.
Kingfisher Again
The pond is mostly iced, but seven Mallards stick it out. A Belted Kingfisher zigzags silently up the river, and I’m happy to garner another February record. It’s dead silent out here, though, by 8.
Terra Nullius
There’s a patch of woods between the tracks and the river whose owner, a state agency, is quite absentee. The few acres of swamp, thick invasives, and some fine, tall trees is effectively a no man’s land. Once upon a time, it was the site of the Upper Forge, a community from the Juniata Iron era of the early 1800s, one of the Tyrone Forge villages. Later, after the community was partially buried by the railroad (the other side lies in ruins on our property, across the tracks), other industries were set up there, the last being a sewage treatment facility, which closed and relocated downriver in the 1970s.
Thanks to the recent actions of the local Little Juniata River Association, access is gated, which has helped considerably in the reduction of harm from campers and firewood harvesters. Also, people can no longer pull in and dump household trash there.
Nevertheless, there are years’ accumulation of detritus at the half-buried summer refuges of people without permanent homes: collapsed tents, sleeping bags, fire rings, washing spots, clotheslines, children’s toys, bottles, sardine tins.
What Hangs the Stuffing?
The other day, I noticed an odd assortment of stuffing hanging from the trees close to one of the more recent and tragic campsites, which was used a couple years ago. The site was, in its day, somewhat respectable and well-organized, and even had a ‘Welcome’ gate. All that was trashed, seemingly on purpose, the gate tossed into the shrubbery and the tent ridden over in a motorcycle. Now, someone has put rocks on top of the collapsed tent that forms the centerpiece.
Today, I came back to figure out what was adoring the trees roundabout with sleeping bag entrails.
I haven’t been back here in awhile; the area becomes an important hotspot location by May, when Kentucky Warblers and other rarities stop by in migration. In the winter, though, it gets quite sterile, so I am surprised to find a mixed flock of chickadees and titmice in with the only Brown Creeper I’ve seen since January, and two pairs of quite tame Golden-crowned Kinglets, fiendishly hard to photograph, as usual, even though they practically come to my hand.
I don’t think any of these, nor the resident Northern Cardinals, are responsible for the nest-building, though. About a dozen shreds of spongy, white, sleeping-bag stuffing hangs from multiple locations, in some places well above the reach of a person.
Definitely a mammal or bird did this. Some of the stuffing is woven with grass, so I am thinking bird. Just when I’m thinking that a member of the avifauna is into installation art a la bowerbirds, I glance up and notice a prominent nest at about 20 feet high in the crook of a tree I can’t identify. All of the pieces of stuffing look to have fallen from it or been blown down in the course of construction, though a few do appear to have been wrapped on purpose.
The nest is mostly stuffing and grass. It is artfully constructed among the tendrils of what I take to be poison ivy or Virginia Creeper; I’m not quite sure. It’s a large nest: bigger than what a robin would make, but not quite a foot in diameter.
When was this built? I spent quite a bit of time in this patch last Fall, well after leaves were all down, so I can’t believe I would have missed it. But is it too early for nest-building? You tell me: nothing looks like it’s survived the good part of a winter. Perhaps I can find the origin of the stuffing.
Above are two candidates from nearby ruined camps, though neither looks like it has been recently pulled and plucked at.
I’d love to have your ideas about this.
Intriguing. You said bigger than a Robin's nest? I have seen fluffy materials use in this way by red squirrels I have seen them making more like a closed ball. Might it be an in progress red squirrels nest? How high on the tree it is? Temperatures are raising and some mammals are starting to have babies, including a baby racoon recently found over here -Greater Toronto! I'll keep thinking about it.