After a northern Virginia hiatus, it’s time to get back into the groove. With Daylight Savings Time off, the Monday morning schedule works perfectly for a sunrise walk to the pond before I drive up to harvest several days of NFCs. It will be interesting to see what’s changed since last week.
Crisp and clear at 34, the weather promises to warm to the sixties today. By 6:30, White-throated Sparrows are already making noise around the gate. A Great Blue Heron flies east through the Gap. Blue Jays start up, and a Winter Wren calls from the fringing forest between the tracks and the river. At 6:41, a Carolina Wren begins to trill and chatter, while the first American Goldfinches, and at least one Pine Siskin, twitter about overhead.
I sneak up on the pond today, no trains to be seen. Around 6:50, the ducks begin to arrive in pairs and small groups, but since I’m standing in plain sight, they swirl around above the tracks not far over my head, in disarray. One flock contains a much smaller duck—the Green-winged Teal—and I spot two larger ducks that could be the American Black Ducks from last week. Eventually, it looks like most of the 40+ waterfowl splash down on the pond and start up the typical ruckus. Nothing new, yet.
The Latest REVI Ever?
Hearing a train off in the east, I cross the tracks to the river side again, and spot a small bird flopping around on the dry maple leaves in the old access road. As I approach, it flaps weakly into a thick patch of dry weed stems. Improbably, it’s a Red-eyed Vireo, more than a month past this species’ normal final departure date from this area. I switch to the camera, but between the gloomy light and the vireo’s agility, I can’t get a focus on it before it disappears down the bank into a wilderness of thicker growth, never making it more than a yard above the ground.
Not only is this the latest REVI ever for Blair County, by a month, but also it appears to be as late as the species has ever been recorded for Pennsylvania. Red-eyes aren’t fans of cold weather, and we’ve had some nights in the 20s already. This is why I’m not so fond of such outliers—they so often represent individuals that have scant to nil possibility of making it south alive. This one may have been temporarily stunned, but more likely it was injured.
The garbage train sweeps by, and the air collapses into pockets of choking filth.
Clouds of November
Up at the garage, the difference between last week and today is stark. White-throats are still singing lustily, but several other species seem to have increased in number and volume as well. Perhaps because the feeders are up, the yard has become a hub of activity. Mourning Doves scatter—they have mysteriously returned after a month’s absence. Blue Jays are making a range of odd noises from inside the forsythia, Northern Flickers are flicking about the black walnuts, and a Yellow-bellied Sapsucker is mewing incessantly. Dark-eyed Juncos are everywhere, buzzing and ticking, as small flocks of American Robins commute overhead, going south toward some grapeland or another. In the few minutes I’m there, I hear just one Eastern Towhee and no phoebes or Yellow-rumped Warblers, but what November lacks in species it makes up for in activity. October, after all, was quite lean, so I’m looking forward to the feasting flocks fattening up and even caching away for whatever winter we end up having.
At 200 species, Plummer’s Hollow is just a hair ahead of Yellow Creek State Park (199) and Peace Valley Park (198). We’re well behind Presque Isle State Park (255), Middle Creek WMA (231), and John Heinz NWR (211 for the impoundment). A handful of species are still out there, and with many months of antenna data to get through before the end of the year, 210 species aren’t out of the question.