On Monday evening, the porch House Finches perch on the wires closest to the porch eave, inches from each other. The male, singing lustily, turns to the female and emits some starling-like buzzes, bobbing and weaving its body as the female looks on.
Pennsylvania Avenue Birds
On Wednesday morning, the House Finch nest has four eggs. At one point, the male sits across the parking lot on a wire, a couple feet from a Barn Swallow, with no other birds nearby. They both vocalize off and on for about ten minutes. Why do they perch so close to each other? A bit later, two male House Finches perch on the other ferns, vocalizing and poking around in them. They depart, and while the resident female sits on her four eggs in the fern closest to the door, two more females show up and fly into the other two ferns. So it appears that 3 ferns = 3 pairs = 12 eggs?
Our old brick block of downtown Tyrone dates from the 1870s in front, while the back is a pastiche of recent additions filled with rickety wooden structures, rusty eaves, and crevasses just right for several other nesting species. Chimney Swifts nest in its chimneys, European Starlings and House Sparrows in the cracks between buildings, and in the eaves, and American Robins have at least one nest up under the third-floor eaves. A pair of Barn Swallows nests somewhere out of sight on the edge of a shed jutting out from the building next door; not that I am out here all the time, but I haven’t seen them with nesting material, so I wonder if they are reusing a nest, and how many of the other ones do so as well.
A pair of Northern Rough-winged Swallows is also holed up somewhere on the block. All these species are frequent visitors to the airspace, wires, and poles within yards of me, so like or not, they and their progeny will the stars of many narratives in upcoming months.
By 4:33 AM on Thursday, as I write this, I can hear the first chitters of Barn Swallows flying in the dark. A bit later, roughies will be out and about, chasing each other across the lots.
Creek and River Residents
Bald Eagle Creek itself is hidden by buildings and now foliage, so much of what is happening now is invisible to me. A small part of the confluence is still visible, but the wall of foliage along the river blocks views of the bank, junkyard, and even most of the interstate now. Most of the birds that nest back there don’t perch on the buildings or wires, save Mourning Doves. I would guess there are several pairs in the neighborhood; I see them zipping back and forth, and males still puff themselves out and fly in Accipiter-like circles above the tallest sycamore.
The Baltimore Orioles are a pair now, and both male and female sing from the silver maples and sycamores. I assume the nest they’re building is hanging over the river close at hand. There are probably a dozen oriole pairs between here and the Yellow Warbler swamp downriver, and the songs of each are distinct.
Somewhere up in a maple or sycamore near the confluence, the local Warbling Vireo couple is nesting. Their presence is belied by near-continuous warbling throughout the day, though I have yet to catch more than glimpses of them through the leaves. In July and early August, after one or two broods, they and their offspring will depart for the mountain forests during molt migration. They disappear from the river, and start showing up in the trees around the spring house, and elsewhere in wet locations where they don’t breed. (Meanwhile, Blackburnian Warblers, nesting exclusively up on the mountain, will move down to the confluence and elsewhere along the river to molt, skulk, and prepare for long-distance migration.)
Somewhere in a lower shrub or tree on the other side of the river, a Yellow Warbler pair is nesting. It probably took about one day after the female showed up for the couple to form, and the nest was built rapidly after that. The male starts singing every day before five AM now, and until after 8:30 at night. Their whole operation will be over soon; molt migrants should be appearing by July up on the mountain, and long-distance migration will begin not long after.
A Red-eyed Vireo sings from a tree between the balcony and the interstate, and occasionally scolds. I haven’t determined whether it has attracted a mate yet. This species is a minor and not-very-noticeable part of my balcony avifauna, but that is fine, since it’s by far the most numerous breeding species downriver and up on the mountain.
The Downy Woodpeckers, which I saw courting a few weeks back, have largely disappeared into the foliage, but predictably call every morning and evening, and at intervals throughout the day. They nest quite close, around the confluence in the big trees somewhere.
At least two pairs of Gray Catbirds, possibly more, inhabit the thickest bushes along the banks of both watercourses. I don’t see them much right now; about as much as I see the Northern Cardinals, of which two or more pairs also nest within earshot. Somewhat more visible are the Eastern Phoebes, which are already raising their first brood somewhere near the confluence. Rounding out the most housecat-vulnerable local species are a few pairs of Song Sparrows, most likely in the brushy conditions across the river.
Chipping Sparrows are cryptic now. I catch some song and calls in the early morning and occasionally at other times, but they nest over by the bank and don’t show up close by anymore.
Common Grackles appear to be in the top position in the local hierarchy of aggression, so I hesitate to call them housecat-vulnerable. (Even if they are, it doesn’t appear to be putting a dent in their numbers.) I have seen them attack any and all comers, and particularly crows and ravens. These days, I see mostly the males; I believe there are dozens of local pairs in the larger trees and down into the shrubs up and down the river and the creek. The males often fly up into the Hollow to hunt in the stream for a yet-undetermined food source, I presume stonefly nymphs or something similar.
Farther Afield
Starlings don’t just nest all over town; they also hole up in the interstate joints, but those are now invisible to me.
From the balcony, at quieter times, I can also pick up snatches of song from Eastern Towhees, Black-capped Chickadees, Tufted Titmice, Carolina Wrens, and Red-winged Blackbirds upriver and downriver as well as upstream along the creek. Wood Thrushes and Rose-breasted Grosbeaks don’t nest this side of the interstate, but can usually be heard once or twice in morning and evening; harder to hear are Indigo Buntings, Eastern Wood-Pewees, and Scarlet Tanagers. I can’t hear any of the nesting warbler species, however, but in the past, I’ve heard Yellow-billed Cuckoos and Great Crested Flycatchers during nesting season.
Back in town, a local pair of Fish Crows is nesting, and visits my area a few times a day, though rarely in the early morning. American Crows nest outside of town, I think to the west, and though the junkyard raven comes back to visit its winter lair, I’m not sure if it roosts there; Common Ravens are paired up and flying back and forth constantly over the mountains, while a few others go solo.
A Cooper’s Hawk is a regular visitor to this part of the hotspot, but I don’t have a clue where it nests. Red-tailed Hawks come and go from their presume nesting spot up by the towers, and on Monday evening, I saw a Broad-winged Hawk cross the Gap between Laurel Ridge and Bald Eagle Mountain; I saw one yesterday up above First Field as well, being pursued by my FOY Purple Martin.
As far as Turkey and Black vultures go, I don’t see the latter on a daily basis, but Turkeys are all about; I presume they nest in any of the numerous talus areas on both mountains. Several dozen remain in the area. As for Bald Eagles and Ospreys, they cruise by on a regular basis, though neither species nests in the close vicinity of town.
Back in town, the omnipresent Rock Pigeons nest in the old hotel up by the tracks, and in buildings downtown. Both Tree and Cliff swallows nest within a mile or two of me, so they show up primarily in the evenings to feed over the river with other swallows.
And the hummers! So far, just a female has been using the feeder. I presume that there will be at least one Ruby-throated Hummingbird nest in a tree or along the creek nearby this year.
Blue Jay migration is tapering off, but we are left with a few local pairs, I’m not sure where yet. Meanwhile, Cedar Waxwings have just arrived, and they’ll be common nesters in the local trees. B
Brown-headed Cowbirds, those despicably gorgeous nest parasites, appear to be wrapping up their courtship, meaning the females are off laying eggs in the nests of other species (I admit I don’t know what the males do the rest of the season).
American Goldfinches are a special case. Their migration appears to have largely ended, so just a few are left, and they won’t breed for many weeks yet.
As for waterfowl, our four local species are well underway with their first broods. Canada Geese I only see occasionally flying over; I believe a pair is nesting in the pond, and they are scattered elsewhere. Mallards nest the closest, somewhere on Bald Eagle Creek, and two to four males regularly lift off and fly about, while the females are nowhere to be seen. Common Mergansers are here as well, and may be nesting in the hotspot this year. I occasionally see a male flying, but not the pair, unlike in April. Then yesterday:
One of the two females was sitting on an exposed river rock far upstream from the Plummer’s Hollow bridge, while the the other was feeding nearby.
The Migration Begins to Taper
This post is primarily to establish a baseline for in-depth observations of whatever behavior I can notice regarding the local breeding species this summer. The same species combination will hold through June, and there will only be a few other visitors from breeding populations of other species in the mountains and valleys farther away: perhaps a Purple Martin, or an Eastern Meadowlark, or a Sharp-shinned Hawk, or some other stray. Abundant species such as Ovenbird and Hooded Warbler night as well be nonexistent: they won’t show up until molt migration.
As for the migrants, they’re still thick out in the forests, but here, save a single Veery, I’ve heard and seen no passage migrants this week from the balcony. Another post will cover the ones out in the woods, but I do expect to hear and perhaps see at least a few Blackpoll and Bay-breasted warblers from the balcony as the height of their migration approaches toward the end of the month. June 1 marks the end of the northward passage, though Blackpolls will be moving through into the first week of June, and NFCs will likely reveal straggler flycatchers, Swainson’s Thrushes, shorebirds, a few last warblers, and others. None of those will be a factor here at the edge of town.
I’ll try to do more balcony prowls in the evening, when it is easier to observe what is happening. Most days, I’ll be walking in the mornings, either along the river or up on the mountain somewhere.