Outside My Window

Yellow-billed cuckoos are usually hard to find.  They skulk in the treetops – like this one is doing – and are found only by the sound of their amazing voices. 

That’s why I was surprised to see three cuckoos in the open recently.  Two were singing and chasing while a third one watched.  Was this territorial behavior?  Courtship?  In July?  I decided to find out.

Yellow-billed cuckoos return to our area in April and May but they tend to nest from late June to July because they wait for an abundance of their favorite foods: caterpillars and cicadas.  In my experience this gives cuckoos extra time to be secretive while other birds are visibly courting and nesting.

Cuckoos may be secretive but they’re more versatile when they nest, choosing among three methods depending their food supply. 

In years of normal or low food abundance, yellow-billed cuckoo pairs go the traditional route of building and using their own nests, but in years of explosive caterpillar or cicada infestations – such as 17-year cicadas – female cuckoos produce extra eggs, and they need to put them somewhere. 

Sometimes they breed co-operatively.  Two females share the same nest with a male and all three of them tend the young.  The males handle overnight incubation so I think the “co-op” guys must struggle to cover 5-11 eggs instead of the usual 2-3.

Alternatively, the females lay eggs in other birds’ nests, choosing those whose eggs are the same blueish-green color as their own.  According to BNA Online, yellow-billed and black-billed cuckoos are “the only known facultative, interspecific brood parasites among altricial birds.”  “Facultative” means that they can but don’t always do this, so cuckoos don’t have the bad reputation the brown-headed cowbird has.

Yellow-billed cuckoos have one more surprise up their sleeves.  When their nestlings are about six days old they become fully feathered in only two hours.  Their feathers literally burst from the feather sheaths.  Imagine Mrs. Robin’s shock when one of her kids goes from bare down to flight feathers so fast.   Surprise!  That one’s a cuckoo.

Now that’s versatile.

(photo by Chuck Tague)

p.s.  Based on the lateness of the cicadas this year, this is probably a low-food-supply year for cuckoos.

Poor Mama Bluebird!  Which mouth should she feed?  No matter which one she picks the other two will still be begging.

Despite appearances, having three fledged babies is a great sign of success.  As I’ve learned from watching robin nests it’s a huge challenge to get a baby bird to this stage.

People who tend bluebird boxes know exactly what I mean.  At the start of the season there’s the threat of cold, wet weather that suppresses their food supply (insects) and causes the babies to starve.  Then there are blowflies and other nasty parasites who kill the young.  Snakes, raccoons and cats take their toll, and bluebirds, like tree swallows, face competition for nest sites.  Since they’re the least aggressive of the cavity nesters, bluebirds take it on the chin.  The worst are the house sparrows who claim all the nest sites in their territory and kill bluebird adults and young, even in boxes the sparrows don’t intend to use.

Fortunately for bluebirds, people watch out for them and help by removing whatever threats we can.  It’s a symbiotic relationship in which bluebirds nest successfully and we get the enjoyment of watching a very sweet and beautiful bird. 

If your neighborhood doesn’t have open fields to support nesting bluebirds, you can now watch them nesting online.  Check out the PA Game Commission’s bluebird nest box camera at their Harrisburg Headquarters.  You won’t see this fledgling activity but you’ll get a glimpse inside the box. 

So congratulations, Mama Bluebird!  Soon your babies will be on their own.  Whew!

(photo by Kim Steininger)

If you want to see an ovenbird, this is the time to do it.

Ovenbirds are forest dwelling warblers the color of fallen leaves.  They usually spend their time walking the forest floor, weaving through the undergrowth, perfectly camouflaged as they feed on invertebrates among the logs and leaves. 

They even take ground-dwelling to an extreme and place their nests on the ground.  The female builds it in the shape of a beehive oven – hence their name.

Though hard to see they are easy to hear.  Their song is a very loud ”tee-CHUR tee-CHUR tee-CHUR tee-CHUR tee-CHUR” that carries easily through the forest.  

I always hear more ovenbirds than I see, except right about now. When this recluse has young babies he becomes protective and brash. 

Today I was harassed by an ovenbird at Ohiopyle State Park.  As I walked through the woods I heard a loud warning ”Dink!”  In an effort to identify the source I paused to listen, and it didn’t take long to find out.  The ovenbird was so provoked that he flew toward me, perched above me, raised his head feathers and repeated “Dink!”  Then he sang to make me go away.  He didn’t know his song would charm me.

Eventually he moved away and grabbed a small caterpillar from a leaf.  Instead of eating it himself he flew off with it, so I knew he had babies to feed.  I followed him with my binoculars in hopes of seeing his oven-shaped nest.  To my surprise a fledging popped out of the undergrowth and he stuffed the caterpillar in its mouth.  The fledgling was gawky but special to me – my first view of a young ovenbird.

Soon the fledglings will be self sufficient and their parents will stop caring when I walk by.  So now is the time to see an ovenbird.

(photo by Chuck Tague)

When I received this picture from Maria Pyrdek it made me laugh out loud.  

This is one of Martha’s foster babies at Animal Rescue League’s Wildlife Center.  Martha’s the great-horned owl I wrote about on May 13 who’s raising orphaned nestlings. The baby owls are ready to fledge so they graduated to the flight cage. 

Martha moved with them to continue her fostering duties and give them additional tips on how to be good owls.  Click on the photo to see nearly the entire family – except this guy.

I wonder what Martha thought when he did this.  He can fly, but can he land?  What a hoot!

“Cut me a break,” he says, “I’m learning.”

(photos by Maria Pyrdek at the ARL Wildlife Center in Verona, PA.  Click on the owl’s photo to see Martha with the babies in the flight cage.)

I’m borrowing a title from Chuck Tague and a photo from Steve Gosser to tell you some of the interesting things I’ve seen birds do in the past week.

• Isn’t this a beautiful bird?  Of all the early arriving migrants, yellow-throated warblers are my favorite.  I saw them at Raccoon Creek Wildflower Reserve last weekend, arguing about territory, singing and chasing.  They’re usually at the tops of sycamores so I’m quite pleased Steve Gosser captured this image.  It’s the best look I’ve had at a yellow-throated warbler for quite some time.
• About a week ago I was driving north on Interstate 79 when I noticed two pairs of rock pigeons perched on the abutments of a bridge PennDot had just taken down.  Nothing was left of the bridge except its supports.  I imagine the pigeons had come home and were standing on the abutments wondering where the heck their nest site went.  They heard lots of banging and … poof! … it was gone.
• The red-tailed hawks who nested on Central Catholic’s roof last spring have chosen a new nest site, this time on a building at Carnegie Mellon.  That probably explains why I saw the male do such a splendid aerial display at nearby Flagstaff Hill. 
• Yesterday morning I walked to work through Schenley Park wearing my bright purple rain jacket.  The color attracted a ruby-crowned kinglet who flitted quite close, then flew into the shrubbery.  To his surprise another male kinglet was already there and raised his ruby crown like a mohawk.  I was astonished by how red and tall the ruby crown became.  The angry bird looked like a completely different species.
• Last Sunday at Enlow Fork I saw a pair of blue-gray gnatcatchers collecting nesting material.  The male looked especially snappy in his blue-gray plumage.  His black eyebrows made him look fierce and a little cross-eyed.  While observing the happy pair I noticed a female brown-headed cowbird was watching too, perhaps waiting to find the nest so she could lay an egg in it.  If she did so it would wreck the gnatcatchers’ nesting season.  Suddenly the male gnatcatcher noticed the cowbird and while still carrying nesting material he began to dive-bomb her.  Over and over again he tried to knock the cowbird off her perch, but she wouldn’t budge.  Finally in a parting shot he pooped on her.  Hah!

Every day there’s something new to see.  Spend some time outdoors.  It’s Earth Day!

(photo by Steve Gosser)

Pictured here is another Life Bird I saw in Florida last month – a lesser black-backed gull.  He is in fact my exact Life Bird because I remember his green band: F05.

Lesser black-backed gulls breed in Iceland, Greenland, and Western Europe and winter on both sides of the Atlantic as far as Africa and the Gulf of Mexico.  They are basically coastal birds though a few wander down the St. Lawrence River to Lake Erie each winter.

This particular gull is different, and it’s why he has a green band.  He winters on the Florida coast where we expect him to be, but he doesn’t go back to Europe to breed.  He’s only the second lesser black-backed gull ever to nest in the United States.  Even more amazing is his choice of a mate.  She’s a herring gull and their babies are hybrids.

When I read F05’s story I’ll admit the scientific side of my mind shut off and romance took over. 

Can a young European find love in an American mixed marriage?  Apparently so. 

Though this next bit is totally fictional, imagine if you will….

Born in Iceland our young hero joins his cohorts as winter approaches, leaving for points south and west.  He ends up on the coast of Florida and for three years he spends his winters lounging and having a good time.  As he approaches his fourth birthday he matures and starts to think about finding a mate.

One day at the Volusia County dump he meets her.  She looks a little different – much paler – but she says he’s just her type: tall, dark and handsome. 

“Where are you from?” he asks.
“Appledore,” she replies.
“Wow,” he says, “It sounds just like a place in Harry Potter.  I’d love to see it.”

They spend more time together and before you know it they fall in love.  He notices her courtship customs are similar to his but she doesn’t throw her head back as far during the “long call.”  There are other little differences but it doesn’t matter.  They’re in love.

He follows her home to Appledore Island, Maine.  That was three years ago.  They’ve nested successfully and raised three kids since 2007.  Though humans watch them all the time and band the babies, it’s a good life. 

“No complaints,” he says.  “She’s the best.”

….No more fiction!…  

For their real – and scientific – story and for pictures of F05, his mate and offspring, click here.

(photo by Chuck Tague, who also blogged about this gull)

For months the crows have been loud and obnoxious while red-tailed hawks have been present but not particularly noticeable.  This month they switch roles.  It’s courtship time.

Birds have many courtship rituals.  Some species sing, some dance, some display their feathers and some display their flying skills.  Prairie-nesting songbirds, such as bobolinks, sing while hovering above their territory.  Hawks and falcons soar and chase in powerful flight displays.   

That’s why we’re seeing a lot of red-tailed hawks lately.  In winter they don’t care to be noticed but now they’re conspicuous, soaring to claim their territories and attract mates.  As if that’s not enough, they scream from above to attract attention.  Their sound is so blood-curdling that foley editors sometimes use it – incorrectly! – as the voice of the bald eagle.  (This bad coupling of sound to picture drives me nuts.) 

When hawks and falcons are a mated pair, they soar together.  Red-tail pairs wheel in the same patch of sky, peregrines fly a powerful ballet.  In both cases one of the pair will often fold its wings and make beeline for the nest area.  The other mate usually follows to continue courting there.  I don’t know what red-tails do but peregrines bow at the nest.

Meanwhile the crows go silent.  It’s hard to believe but there will be a day when you just won’t notice crows any more.  As soon as they nest they become very secretive, switching from obnoxious to oblique behavior.  You will see them but you won’t hear them. 

Will you notice when the crows change their ways?  It usually takes me a while.  Noticing an absence is a lot harder than noticing an arrival.

As I had hoped, Chuck & Joan Tague helped me find a Florida scrub-jay at Merritt Island last week.   Er, rather… the scrub-jay found me.

He showed up with his family just as I expected, but of the three jays only this one visited my hat. 

By the time he hopped off my head I was laughing so hard I couldn’t ask him how he learned to do this.

Success! 

(photo by Chuck Tague)

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I heard birds. 

High above the crowd, five house sparrows hopped and chirped among the grocery store’s fluorescent lights.

I can imagine how they got there.  House sparrows are known for their ingenuity with motion activated doors. 

I once observed a small flock that lived in an underground garage whose only access was through an automatic garage door.  When the door was closed, the sparrows lined up on both sides of it and waited.  As soon as a car triggered the door they zoomed through as the door was rising.  Smart. 

The grocery store sparrows were smart too.  What a setup!  Abundant food and climate control.  I’m sure they would have flown both in and out, but the weather was bitterly cold.  They were unlikely to leave on their own.

Since I seemed to be the only person who noticed them, I kept my discovery to myself until I reached the checkout. 

“You have birds,” I said to the cashier.

“Yes,” she said, “We like them.” 

She sounded defiant.  Perhaps she’d discussed the birds with many customers and was tired of explaining them.  Before I could think how to reply she said, “And they’re not dirty at all.”  

I hadn’t even suggested that.  Clearly she wanted the birds to be left alone.

I love birds but I know the stalemate cannot last.  House sparrows begin building nests in February.  Their average clutch size is five eggs and they can raise as many as four broods per season.  By April the grocery store population could triple.  By August they could have more than 50 birds indoors. 

Soon the store will have to set up mist nets and capture the sparrows.  The cashier will be unhappy, but not for long.  I give it only a month before the next sparrows fly in and the whole process starts over.

(photo by Chuck Tague)

Right now I’m in Florida, birding with Chuck and Joan Tague, and have learned…

Though parrots are very smart, they aren’t the only birds with brains.  Members of the corvid family – jays, crows and ravens – are darn smart too.

Pictured here is one of the wise guy corvids, a Florida scrub-jay, standing on Joan Tague’s hat. 

Corvids can remember, analyze, innovate and problem solve.  They even use tools.  As it turns out this is exactly the kind of intelligence that comes from living in complex social groups, and for that sort of family life in the bird world, you need look no further than the Florida scrub-jay.

Florida scrub-jays are extreme habitat specialists who require arid oak and palmetto scrub to survive.  East of the Mississippi this habitat is isolated to Florida and it is further isolated – and disappearing – within Florida.  This means scrub-jays usually spend their entire lives within a half mile of their birthplace.  The end result is that they are a “Threatened” species. 

Scientists conjecture that scarce suitable habitat over a long period of time has led the Florida scrub-jay to a lifestyle adaption called cooperative breeding.  It’s an unusual way to live.  Only 3% of the world’s bird species use it. 

In cooperative breeding, each pair has one to six nest helpers who feed and protect the young.  The helpers may or may not be related to the breeding pair but they learn breeding skills and increase the breeding pair’s nesting success.  Helpers also have the advantage of being on site to inherit the territory should one of the pair die. 

The arrangement works for all of them and provides a perfect setting to develop smart birds.  Because they must cooperate to survive, the better they can anticipate the actions of others, the better they can deal with life’s situations.  As Candace Savage says, “Nothing is more intellectually challenging than living in a social group, surrounded by a bunch of other animals that are sharpening their wits on you.”

So I ask you.  Is it smart for a wild bird to stand on someone’s hat?  And if yes, why?

I hope to get the chance to ask him myself.

(photo by Chuck Tague)