North winds on Saturday night seem to have pushed the herons south. On Sunday around 10 AM, I watch a Great Blue Heron motionless among the sand-polished rocks on the Little Juniata River upstream from the bridge. Beyond it, a Green Heron walks lithely, stabbing at the shallows.
Later, when I check the night spectrum, I find a Great Egret, some Great Blue Herons, and what I believe is an American Bittern as well as a Least Bittern, for neither of which we have records this time of year.
Driving up the Hollow, I have an intimate encounter with a Barred Owl. In utter silence, it flushes from a low perch and lands in the crotch of a young beech tree at my level, across the stream some 20 yards away. In the background, a Red-eyed Vireo sings faintly and a few cicadas drone.
This was just a quick trip to get NFCs, so I neglected to bring my camera. (Truth be told: after an all-night sojourn to Pittsburgh to pick up Paola at the airport, I slept in.) And as luck would have it, this is one of the best sightings I’ve ever had of a Barred Owl. It continues to stare at me with its jet-black eyes for several minutes, only occasionally glancing left, then right. When I finally look down to type some notes, it takes off, again in utter silence.
Flush
Dawn on the balcony has settled into a pattern of sorts, though I don’t suppose it will last for long. On Monday morning, it’s around 60 and cloudy, and nothing stirs before six. Not until 6:09 does the first American Robin call, but only a Carolina Wren sings today.
Much of the nearby aerial activity takes place between 6:09 and 6:28. Robins, with little fanfare, head directly out of town toward the mountains, 21 of them in all. Chimney Swift numbers are building, with at least 96 locals heading out into the Gap. Rock Pigeons top 200 again today, commuting in flocks of all sizes over the course of an hour.
At 20 ‘til 7, 95 Canada Geese go over, following their regular path from the reservoirs to Sinking Valley. A couple minutes later, an adult Bald Eagle flies downriver; 15 minutes after that, a low-flying Osprey, following Bald Eagle Creek, flaps past the balcony and decides to pursue the Little J upstream.
European Starlings are the only later songsters today, and at least 13 are now around the interstate overpass area; I can only see them when they’re in the air, so I’m not sure what they’re doing. House Finch numbers are also up, with 39 this morning, while both Cedar Waxwings (2) and American Goldfinches (9) are down—for now, at least, both species have mostly moved elsewhere to roost.
The Descent Begins
Monday turned suffocating hot and humid, and by Tuesday morning at 5:30 AM it’s in the mid-60s and back to bug clouds and Deet.
At the garage around 5:40, all is silent but for crickets. As I settle into my chair at the field neck, I hear faint peeping from the sky. Could it be? A bit later, a Veery calls from the woods, and when I examine the spectrum, I see the NFCS of two small groups of Veeries, descending from migration to spend the day in the local woods. It has begun!
Right at six, a Whip-Poor-Will sings for a minute or two. I think this one may still be one of our summer residents, but it could also be an early migrant.
Gray Catbirds are becoming more vocal again. I suspect the summer residents have left and are being replaced by migrants. In the twilight, one flies up to the nearest locust, meowing and crackling at me. This is the earliest I can recall being obviously scolded; usually, the early movers ignore me.
A Wood Duck takes off from the tall woods down near the deer exclosure area, or else it skimmed them coming from somewhere else. It zooms north across the field and disappears over Sapsucker Ridge.
Merlin says there a Swainson’s Thrush around, but I didn’t hear it. A few probably desended with the Veeries, so it’s certainly possible.
More and more bats are coming out; they prefer the buggy skies over Sapsucker Ridge but also loop low over the field, so close I can hear the ticking of their sonar. At the same time, an effervescent Worm-eating Warbler trills over and over from the nearest woods by the powerline right-of-way. Other warblers are flying about through the air, emitting a variety of chips and tinks, while two Hooded Warblers sing from deep thickets.
Warbler Energy
The dominant birds are still Red-eyed Vireos: begging from each other, fighting with Worm-eating Warblers, gobbling caterpillars, singing, scolding, crawling all over the black cherries, grapevines, ailanthus, black locusts, and every other tree. But moving faster in amongst them are warblers, and at long last, I snag a species I missed in the spring: Blue-winged Warbler.
Sitting under an open locust canopy, my first indication is a brilliant flash of yellow that doesn’t belong to a goldfinch and can only be the 191st entry in the Plummer’s Hollow 200. It’s moving quickly with a growing crowd of passerines, including a fair number of Black-throated Green Warblers. I know the dynamics of this 30-species-plus agglomerating flock and generally which direction they will move, so I believe I can find the BWWA a little later. Another surprise is a Yellow-throated Warbler, first ever for this season, directly over my head.
I move the way the flock went and find one area of thick privet between open locusts and thick woods buzzing with the subsongs of Black-throated Green Warblers, as well as Tennessee Warblers, a Magnolia Warbler, and an early Nashville Warbler. Up in the vine-hung black cherries beyond, I catch that familiar flash of yellow again, and the spectacular male Blue-winged Warbler, while feeding, comes into plain view for about a minute.
BWWAs are easy to find in breeding habitat, but we have none of that on the property. In migration, we’re lucky to pick up more than one in a whole year. Today’s detection leaves only the Golden-winged Warbler off our 2023 list, and of other possible passerines in August, the Yellow-breasted Chat and Olive-sided Flycatcher are the only realistic possibilities. We’ve not detected a chat in decades, however, and it has been three years since the last Olive-sided detection; the latter is a species we’ve never recorded in Fall. My goal between now and September 5th is to either find these two, or satisfy myself that I did everything possible.