Renewal of Faith
March redeems itself this morning. Clear, 24, a little breeze; waning crescent moon over the point of Sapsucker Ridge. I’m expecting early risers and a high species count today, and I’m not disappointed.
At 6:53 AM, I hear the first Song Sparrow caroling faintly through the freeway noise from downriver somewhere, and an equally faint Northern Cardinal. The initial croaks of the junkyard raven also start off the dawn before 7, but the Song Sparrow is the only one to keep it going.
Ravens in the Blue
Today’s intense sapphire sky and brisk wind is perfect for the junkyard raven and what may be its newfound mate, or at least a prospect. Starting up right after seven, they croak and chase, croak and chase among the old brick buildings and piles of recycled home goods, and down among the dusty pillars of the freeway overpass. Later, they’re up dancing in the sky.
I wouldn’t be surprise if they nest somewhere in that mess, perhaps even over by the abandoned Toys ‘R Us truck hemmed with dozens of toilets and sinks. At some point, I’ll go over and see what they’re up to—ravens are known to nest pretty much anywhere they can find adequate shelter, using a variety of rather exotic materials.
The Typical Sequence
There has not been a noticeable reshuffling in the dawn call sequence despite the fact that we are on the cusp of calendar Spring. The brushy birds—cardinal, Carolina Wren, Song Sparrow—call or sing early, then quiet down, then start up later, closer to eight, and keep going off and on through the early hours of the morning. Each can be heard from three locations: up Bald Eagle Creek (my left), up the Little Juniata River (my right), and down the Juniata below the confluence (in front).
Tufted Titmice, Black-capped Chickadees, and White-breasted Nuthatches—the ‘TCN’ trio—are also still about, though I have heard no singing from the chickadees these days. Titmice, however, are among the loudest and most insistent March songsters.
Oddly on this frigid morning, no American Robin calls until 7:40, well after sunrise. Later, they start up their typical racket like they own place.
At 7:28, a mixed Icterid flock - Brown-headed Cowbird, Common Grackle, Red-winged Blackbird - whooshes close over the building, south to north. Only the grackles hang about later on the local trees; now they’re even in the closest sycamores. It’s Rusty Blackbird season, though, so I’m hoping that one of these mornings (a rainy one would be my bet) I’ll see a few of this scarce species perched, or in a flock, emitting its distinctive vocalizations.
Rock Pigeons are late and sparse; starting at 7:37, only 24 commuters head over the mountain before 8:30, a far cry from the hundreds I tallied in the Fall.
At 7:38, an Eastern Phoebe calls from the confluence; I haven’t see it yet, but it’s nice to now that despite the harsh weather, this harbinger isn’t giving up. A few minutes, the traditionally last dawn species, the Downy Woodpecker, ‘peeks’ and then rattles.
Sparks
Today, I don’t go to work until 8:30, so there’s time to witness the full sequence up until blinding sunlight hits the balcony. As usual, a strong Mephitis smell which is probably Cannabis signals a rising neighbor. Thankfully, traffic on 10th street and I-99 ebbs a bit by the top of the hour. With the species count above 20 I begin to think of the absentees, with Bald Eagle at the top of the list: I’ve not detected it since February.
While I’m thinking that thought, a magnificent adult Bald Eagle coasts around Sapsucker Ridge below the ridgeline, wingtips seemingly brushing the treetops. It heads upriver, flashing brilliantly in the sunlight; down below, I’m still in shadow.
At 8:16, a second eagle, this time a juvenile, follows the same route, and six minutes after that a third. Canada Geese drift over in four flocks, 41 in all, issuing from low in the Gap and heading north, west, and south across Bald Eagle Valley. The first Turkey Vulture, meanwhile, comes over from the roost west of town, heading east to Sinking Valley. 24 species.
With the sunlight finally bathing the town, small groups of House Sparrows and House Finches on the wing spark brilliantly here and there.
Silent Nights
Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday nights were devoid of nocturnal flight calls. The frigid north wind doesn’t favor Spring migrants, but warming by Thursday makes me hopeful we’ll soon have another banner waterfowl sequence, as well as the first American Pipits and Horned Larks, with the inevitable sparrow deluge.