Later in the day on Thursday, it turns nice, and a stiff breeze starts up. Around 3:45 PM, the season’s first Golden Eagle goes over, as a few Turkey Vultures tilt about.
By 6:48 AM on Friday morning the rain is finally past, and for the first time all week, there’s no fog. A Song Sparrow sings in the gloom, and then a Mourning Dove lifts off from nearby and flies east, the first I’ve seen one since September 23. One minute before seven, an American Robin flies up, over, and down, left to right, silently, then calls sharply from a tree upriver. A Great Blue Heron motors up Bald Eagle Creek below rooftop level, just a few meters above the water, appearing, disappearing, appearing, disappearing.
No White-throats call today, nor early Carolina Wrens. The breeze doesn’t inspire any ravens. All of a sudden at 7:24 AM, the apex, a middle-fall phenomenon, hits. For some reason, the October air is suddenly filled with birds, before the activity subsides abruptly. Today, out of the lull of nowhere, an American Goldfinch, two Bald Eagles, Cedar Waxwings, American Crows, Rock Pigeons, and a White-breasted Nuthatch. A few minutes later, a balcony species I’ve been missing, the Downy Woodpecker, flies into the dead ash, exclaiming loudly.
For the first time since April, I hear no Chimney Swifts. At 7:46 AM, a rogue flock of Brown-headed Cowbirds goes over—a scarce and unpredictable species in the hotspot this time of year.
And then the geese. We’ve been hearing them at all hours of the night and day. This morning, 46 Canadas fly silently in a line eastward down Bald Eagle ridge. A minute later, 150 more go by following the same path, making little noise. These are no longer locals; they’re long-distance migrants, I would guess, lifting off from somewhere north of here and making their way to greener pastures. A few minutes after that, 46 more follow them.
Sunday morning marks my 54th anniversary of birding. (My birdthday present was the siskin.) Appropriately, eight Bald Eagles show up over Bald Eagle Mountain, cavorting like oversized ravens. This happens thanks to a brisk wind from a weather front that has ground its way eastward, out of town. The sunrise is definitely in 2023’s top ten. The air is the way it should be in October: mid-40s, fresh, breathable. Hat weather.
Back behind the tussling Bald Eagles is a Common Raven being attacked by a Sharp-shinned Hawk. American Crows soar over high, and at one point, I hear a Fish Crow nearby. I had though the smaller crow species had receded down the Juniata Valley already; this is about as late as we get them here.