So it’s on. Yesterday’s trickle is today’s freshet. It has almost literally been raining warbers and other Southerners during the unsettled nights, and they’re mostly a week ahead of their all-time early dates. Mayhem in April, as it were.
But warblers are late risers. First is the litany of sparrows.
‘Secret Sexual Liaisons’
5:14 AM and but for trains, it’s silent, clear, and somewhere between the upper thirties and the low forties, depending on where I am and which thermometer I use. I strap on the gear and head up to the spruce grove. A couple minutes later, the stillness is broken by the song of a Field Sparrow.
Before NFCs, I just thought Field Sparrows sometimes sang at night because they woke up suddenly. How innocent I was! When I began to review the spectrum, I realized that one or two, out of the dozens that nest in the field, sing every ten or 20 minutes, all the way from early April into at least July. It almost seemed as if they weren’t getting a lot of sleep…
So it turns out that, like many songbirds, Field Sparrows maintain relationships of a sexual nature outside their pair bond. To do this, they vocalize at night in search of females. I guess this makes sense, though I’m not sure it accounts for the fact that FISPs in our fields began to do this almost immediately upon arriving at breeding grounds. Not to anthropomorphize, but did they grow bored that quickly? Seriously, though, extra-marital affairs aside, nightsongs, which are emitted by several other species here as well, also make sense purely as a way to maximize one’s success in the face of competition from so many other males.
Merlin and Me
Birds scatter in disarray as I brush by the spruces on my way to the sit ‘n swill at the top. By their calls, I can tell they’re White-throated Sparrows, right on the cusp, around 5:25. No songs yet except a Whip-Poor-Will from somewhere off in its preferred breeding grounds on Laurel Ridge.
At the half hour, Eastern Towhees begin to ‘reep,’ one after the other, through the grove and down across the field and the wooded edges. As the state champion towhee location, we’re not hurting for this species; these nearby dawn singers are a fraction of the 60-or-so I detect in the next couple of hours.
After the towhees become background noise, it’s a Northern Cardinal, then a Song Sparrow, then a Mourning Dove, all from the depths of the grove behind me. A pack of early trains is loud today, but not loud enough to drown out what’s coming. I leave my phone on the Merlin sound detector for back-up, even though it drains the battery way too quickly. Despite some false positives (Northern Mockingbird for Brown Thrasher: beware the mimics!) it’s mostly spot on with the closer stuff.
At 5:43 AM, an ear-splitting ‘Oh, sweet Canada’ bursts out from a few feet away. Not long after, a close Mourning Dove does a vaguely similar coo. In a few minutes, I am enveloped by sparrows and doves on three sides, with the white-throats alternating songs and chip calls. All the time, the eastern sky is getting more and more orange. Barely heard underneath the deafening chorus is a Golden-crowned Kinglet, with White-breasted Nuthatches, Tufted Titmice, Black-capped Chickadees, Carolina Wrens, cardinals, and others in the background. By 6 AM the sparrows have reached a crescendo—you can watch and listen here—and they as well as the doves begin to exit the spruce in all directions, toward their first feeding spots. Fourteen other species are also on the list already.
Dawn of the Warblers
As my eardrums recover, the first warbler sings at 6:06, a FOY Ovenbird with its ‘teacher, teacher,’ teacher!’ from down on Laurel Ridge. Minutes later, the first of eleven Black-throated Green Warblers of the morning sings as well. Both species are common breeders here, and these ones seem to already be on territory: like the rest of the early warblers, they show up and stay in the same spots across the property year to year.
As the day arrives, a Ruffed Grouse drums and a Purple Finch sings from a nearby locust. Another arrival, the Hooded Warbler, sings. I leave the grove just as a FOY Worm-eating Warbler trills, probably the most unusually early species of the day.
In about a week, it will be possible to detect 50 species before seven. This involves a field sit, followed by a quick walk to the Far Field. There’s not quite enough warmth, light, or species yet, but 42 by that time isn’t bad. The warblers, it turns out, are hanging out on the ridgetops, some in unusually high numbers. The ‘weesy-weesy-weesy’ of a Black-and-White Warbler, which comes within a few feet of me; Cerulean Warblers in the canopy; a Northern Parula’s upward trill; an American Redstart close at hand. The latter three are all FOYs.
At the Far Field, Blue-gray Gnatcatchers are everywhere, in twos and threes, practically landing on me. I count 20 for the morning, including some already doing their weak mimic calls. I think there was a fall-out of this species overnight, because Mom and Dave have barely seen any yet.
FOY House Wren and Gray Catbird, two more expected species that likely showed up in the last week at some point, are doing their thing at the Far Field as well. Barred Owls duet ‘Who cooks for you?’ from close at hand. On the road back, at the head of Sinking Valley-facing Roseberry Hollow, the only actual warbler flock of the morning runs across me. Yellow-rumped Warblers, plus all the species mentioned above, plus a surfeit of gnatcatchers and Ruby-crowned Kinglets. Ah yes, and the Red-breasted Nuthatches! It’s a big year from them; I’ve even caught them doing their nasal calls during night migration. The spruce grove was bursting with them, probably dozens, though I didn’t have time to count (a few should stick around to nest). But they’re also in the deciduous woods, and even the brush, all across the hotspot this morning.
I skirt the field in the daylight, as rain threatens, then hit Bird Count and Greenbriar trails to return via the upper Hollow. A newly-arrived Broad-winged Hawk surveils me from a canopy perch. Other than White-throated Sparrows, Blue-headed Vireos, and a surfeit of the common warblers, the only stand-out species in this area is Winter Wrens, which are migrating through in numbers. Then a FOY Yellow-throated Vireo sings, less common than the Blue-headed; both are about to be overwhelmed by the arrival of Red-eyed Vireos, the most numerous of any summer songbird in our woods. Three of six vireos are already in the Plummer’s Hollow 200, at least (don’t forget the Warbling), with the Red-eyed, White-eyed (tough to get!), and Philadelphia to go.
The tenth and last warbler of the day, Louisiana Waterthrush, is on territory along the stream. Ten warblers aren’t many by May standards, but for the beginning of the final week of April, it’s something.
Back in town, the now-cloudy sky is roiling with Chimney Swifts skimming the rooftops, probably hundreds already, but I have time to count just 88, which eBird considers an unusually high number for the date. Later, we Velociraptors go to the wrap-up of the Earth Week Birding Classic at Penn State Altoona, and despite missing a few teams this year, species numbers were at an all-time high. Between all the teams, I think well over $1000 was raised; I will keep you posted on how it is spent.
In the evening, I am able to scroll through a single night of NFCs: few calls, but quality! This time, it’s what seems like a small flock of Caspian Terns, and there’s a beautiful Green-winged Teal at one point. Could be days or even weeks until all but the new species make it onto eBird, though. Right before I collapse from exhaustion, a starkly outlined spectrogram scrolls into view: a Barn Owl emits its ghastly screech out of the void. This was not a species I thought we would get again this year! It makes me wonder whether they migrate along ridgetops.
We’re Number Five!
The Plummer’s Hollow 200 is now at about 130 species; 128 on eBird, plus Grasshopper Sparrow and Barn Owl that I still have to upload. I am pleasantly surprised to see we are occupying the position I hope to retain until the end of the year: number 5 in Pennsylvania.
The above numbers don’t mean too much at this point until May is past, but it’s still a confidence boost!
Prothonotary of course would be flagged anywhere, anytime in central (and most) of PA. On the other hand Blackpoll goes from non-existent in April in Hunt. Co (as per eBird bar graphs) to super abundant in mid/late May, in some years at least. (Sad to say even with my fancy frequency-correcting hearing aids, Blackpolls are so high frequency (one of the very highest) that I rarely hear them at all.). Good suggestion of BAWW instead of BLWA.
FWIW - 3 or 4 of your "flags" from 4/23 would not have been flagged on 4/24. The filters are ever evolving, especially in counties where birding history is somewhat limited. Nevertheless, can't get too liberal - a somewhat un-experienced (but very active) birder entered Prothonotary Warbler and Blackpoll Warbler on Saturday (both courtesy of Merlin) - happy to say he was quite receptive to my questioning. (My neighbors chickens registered as Canada Goose yesterday).