Warbler Mania (Part Two)
-Sat, May 6 2023-
5:25 AM and a dew-drenched 38. I park by the garage just as the full moon sets over the spruce grove. Perhaps because of that brilliant light, the dawn chorus is already in full swing. The night recordings later show that Song Sparrows awakened not long after four.
The early crowd is already deafening, with the Brown Thrasher trying to drown everyone else out. Field Sparrows, Eastern Towhees, Song Sparrows, Northern Cardinals, and Wood Thrushes echo from all sides, joined for a few minutes by a Whip-Poor-Will over on nesting grounds at the top of Laurel Ridge. Common Yellowthroats chime in from about the field; an Eastern Phoebe; an American Crow can already be seen flying against the orange to the east, at the far end of First Field: I think it might be one of the nesters.
A Hooded Warbler, the earliest of the woods warblers, sounds from a thicket along the next of the field at 5:37, as the thrasher becomes more frenzied. Black-capped Chickadee; Brown-headed Cowbird. An Ovenbird from the mountain laurel thickets to the left; a Mourning Dove cooing from the spruces.
I settle down in my customary post to the delicate sounds of Blackburnian Warblers—several pairs nest in the spruce grove. There’s still a Golden-crowned Kinglet—a potential nester—and a Red-breasted Nuthatch as well. Loud snorting and crashing: several deer are off, and a loud rattle signals an American Crow, which sets to cawing angrily, perhaps at the deer, or perhaps at resident Barred Owls.
The 35-species chorus swells toward 6 AM, with early woodpeckers and the rest of the most common resident warblers: Black-and-white, American Redstart, Black-throated Green, Black-throated Blue. My app tells me that sunrise is at 6:06 today, yet at 6:03, the sun appears from behind a distant part of Tussey Mountain. With miles to go, I hit the trail.
Warbler Neck
The first thing I notice is that the warblers are staying high in the trees today. After a solid week of rain, the feeding’s good up in the oak flowers, I guess. It’s time to risk that May affliction, ‘warbler neck,’ caused by staring up into the distant canopy for minutes at a time.
The 50 species mark is reached by 6:30, as early as I can remember. I spend some time at the Far Field, as it’s clear that while few or no new species are around, there are large numbers of several common warblers. I am gratified to see a pair of Blue-Gray Gnatcatchers attacking a cowbird: what good it will do I don’t know, but it’s nice to know that they’re on guard.
Ridgetop Fallout
By 7:30 I’m coming back down First Field, and a Scarlet Tanager, late riser, sings from Sapsucker Ridge. It’s #150 for the year, and the first of 11 tanagers for the day. Amazing that there were apparently none around yesterday.
The route this morning is Bird Count-Greenbriar-Dogwood Knoll, but after that, instead of dropping down to the Hollow road, I’ll continue along faint trail traces through a series of steep and messy side hollows to the end of the mountain, and then plunge into the Gap. Like most of the rest of the Hollow-facing side of the ridge, this was selectively logged before we purchased it in the late 1980s, but there are still some patches of massive oaks and tulip-trees that started growing in the early 1800s. As I proceed from Fisher Hollow to Big Tree Hollow to Hanging Hollow (my names), the warbler buzz grows louder and louder. Right where a deer trail across Juniata scree intersects an old logging road, the fun begins.
Yellow-rumped Warblers are everywhere, probably far more than the 26 I can tally. They’re active and not shy, and as they swing down to investigate me, Black-throated Blues (14 for the morning), Black-throated Greens (22), American Redstarts (30), Hooded Warblers (16), Cerulean Warblers (11) and Black-and-whites (25) follow, along with pairs of Blue-headed Vireos. Of the other birds about, I am most pleased by a calling Least Flycatcher (PH200 #151) and a silent Great-crested Flycatcher (PH200 #152), the latter flashing its yellow belly from high up in an oak. Nashville Warblers (10 for the day) are also unusually common, though they remain invisible in the upper canopy.
Numbers are a quite a bit higher than what can be accounted for by birds on territory, even though the only definite passage migrants are the Yellow-rumpeds and Nashvilles. This is definitely a fallout, limited to a few nearly inaccessible acres of ridgetop, a patch I access at most three or four times in a year.
The most significant species today, however, is the Worm-eating Warbler. They are everywhere up here, mostly in pairs, and easily detected by their trills. As the count increases, I realize a record could be in the making. I’ve already detected a dozen by the time I start the steep climb down to the railroad, and on the road back up the Hollow, a new pair can be seen or heard every hundred yards, it seems. They peter out by the Forks in the upper Hollow, but even so, 28 is not only the new high for Plummer’s Hollow, breaking the previous record of 22 set a couple years ago in a May fallout, but also for the entire state of Pennsylvania!
Today’s total count of 83 species also includes new hotspot highs of gnatcatchers (25, also a new Blair County high), Ovenbird (35), Black-and-white Warbler (also a county record), Louisiana Waterthrush (8), and Cerulean Warbler. Two more FOYs are a single Magnolia Warbler (PH200 # 153) and, back on the balcony, a buzz-by Ruby-throated Hummingbird (PH200 #154).
Back at the garage, I notice a suspiciously close association of Osprey and juvenile Bald Eagle. They’re circling not far above me, and then the eagle takes off up-ridge, northeastward, and continues out of sight. The Osprey follows. This is quite odd: several times, I have seen Bald Eagles gang up on Ospreys to grab their fish. One hits the flying Osprey on its side, causing it to drops its catch, which is then snatched up by the other. But in this instance, something else is going on.
At 10:20 I’m done walking after a hard five miles on foot; I’m sweating profusely at 59 degrees. The marathon is on: 15 more common species remain to be detected in May, but the real challenge are another 10 that I really need to see, none of which are likely on the antenna. With an addition dozen from the antenna, 200 will be in sight. Miss a few, and August and September will be my last chances. But for now, my chances are looking good!
Very nice account from this day!