That beautiful landscape? Not so quick. In October 2023, one has to EARN it. This means a bit of “weather,” first.
Sparrow-mania
Thursday, it turns out, is the first and last dawn sit in the field for a while (spoiler alert). I’m parking the car at the garage around 6:15 AM, and am immediately greeted by fast-singing crickets, though not much else. It’s cloudy and in the low 40s, and I head to the sit spot in the neck, mostly to hear what ISN’T here anymore.
At 6:45, it begins. Dark shapes begin to flit here and there across the field, and White-throated Sparrows commence their racket. The rest of the sparrow species are nearly drowned out.
The chorus swells in volume well past seven before finally fading. Hermit Thrushes are clucking from various spots, and are now quite easy to see. Merlin interprets an extremely melodic and complex song as an Eastern Bluebird, and I’m inclined to agree. A Gray Catbird is also going through its repertoire.
For a change, I’m not going for numbers today; I just don’t have time. I’ll be back on the weekend, rounding out the second week of October and getting a start on the third week.
No late oddities today, and drop-outs include Rose-breasted Grosbeak, Wood Thrush, House Wren, and most of the warblers. A single Common Yellowthroat pops out at one juncture, still singing ‘wichity!’
A mere 29 species in 1.5 hours: it seems we’ve dropped off the cliff, yet it’s twice what I’m seeing from the balcony, and the dawn chorus is still impressive.
Come Again Some Other Day
Things took a turn. The Northeast was invaded by a clammy November storm that managed to once again make for challenging weekend conditions. I won’t say “ruined” because I go out rain or shine, as I don’t have any other options. Saturday morning, I suit up for the hike from town; the rain isn’t pouring, but it isn’t pitter-pattering, either. So much for owls.
Sweating like a cerdo, too many layers for the 40s, I finally make it to the barn, and pull open the upstairs hanging doors for the first barn sparrow sit of 2023. Sausage/egg muffin (homemade, so don’t judge) and silence.
At 7:05 AM, once again, it begins. Through the rain, White-throats and Eastern Towhees can be heard along the upper edge of the field. Nearer at hand, sparrow shapes making Field Sparrow calls begin to gather on the mowed grass of the barn bank, but as soon as I move, they flee into the goldenrod. Between my ear and Merlin, we manage to detected White-crowned, Lincoln’s, Swamp, Chipping, and Song sparrows out in the field long before anything can be identified by sight.
The rain eases off for a couple hours, and the day lightens enough to give the birds enough time to feed. The volume of sparrows is overwhelming, most of it White-throats along the edges and Field Sparrows in the open goldenrod. I manage a circuit of the field and an uneventful hike to the Far Field, by which time it has begun to rain quite hard. Even the White-throats eventually take shelter.
Around 8 AM, a flock of some 20 Cedar Waxwings, after working the remaining black cherries, crosses over the field neck, and for some reason, their wings make a distinct rushing sound, almost a whistle, that I’ve not heard before from the species. Perhaps it’s related to the weather.
I cut it short. One reward was seeing three White-crowned Sparrows mixed in with the White-throat hordes. As expected, Blue-headed Vireo numbers are up (6).
October Returns
On Sunday morning, the real October is back.
As an October Libra, I refuse to conceive of the month as anything but stereotypical crisp, fall weather and turning leaves. Everything like yesterday I think of as November.
I only realize it’s not going to rain again after starting a balcony sit and seeing the dawn becoming more and more spectacular. I jump in the car and head down to the bridge, and just in time.
Up on top, First Field at 8 AM is pulsating with sparrows. I can’t stay too long, but the sun has brought out the masses after a day of wet, and it’s hard to get them to stop long enough to look at. Field Sparrows are still here by the dozens, White-throats by the hundreds, and all the rest as well. I suspect a couple of early Fox Sparrows are already down in the thickets, and an American Tree Sparrow is probably about as well.
As I was sitting on the balcony earlier, I remembered to check the 2023 Pennsylvania high numbers list. I was pleased to see that Plummer’s Hollow recorded the highest numbers for the following species: Red-eyed and Blue-headed vireos; Winter Wren (last weekend), Eastern Towhee (last weekend, all-time high), White-throated Sparrow (last weekend), Fox Sparrow (in the spring), Field Sparrow, Black-and-white Warbler, Worm-eating Warbler, Nashville Warbler, and a couple of the thrushes.
This morning, I have time for a few sits along the upper edge of the field, where most of the action is. It’s hard work sorting through the hundreds of White-throats to pick out other species. The kinglets are still about, and the other regulars, but it’s a pleasant surprise to find both a Tennessee Warbler and a Nashville Warbler still hanging around.
The black walnuts around the buildings, their leaves already gone, are a hub of activity as well. Palm and Yellow-rumped warblers are mixing it up with Chipping Sparrows and Blue-headed Vireos, as well as a small flock of Eastern Bluebirds.
Overall, in two hours, a respectable 42 species. We’ll see how it compares to the next time I’ll be up (if I’m lucky), next Sunday.