Seasonal Changes

Numerous birds -- or flocks, in the case of the blackbirds, grackles, and cowbirds -- have chosen to make Forest's Edge their summer home. At last count, four ruby-throated hummingbirds buzz around our feeders, playing high-speed games of chase and king-of-the-mountain. I know the females have nests somewhere in our yard, but being walnut-sized blips there's no way my eyes can pick them out.

Nor have I been able to spot the nests of the two dozen or so American goldfinches that frequent our thistle feeders, or the nests of their house finch counterparts or the quartet of purple finches that stayed in the vicinity instead of heading further north.

The mourning doves make themselves quite at home, and can often been seen comfortably sunning themselves on our deck in the morning and our walkway in the afternoon. Although they still tend to flee upon our approach, at least they don't take off in panic whenever I open a door.

For some of our birds, summer is a thing soon drawing to a close. Our barn swallows and their fledglings -- a good two to three dozen swooping, blue-and-orange birds -- have already started their migration back south, as have most of the birds in the swallow family. Insect eaters exclusively, they need to establish their wintering grounds and therefore need to arrive south early enough to scope out the best bug-filled places. Our oriole trio has also headed south, in search of fruitier lands to tide them over until they return this way in spring.

For other birds, this is their arrival time in our neck of the woods. This part of the state is prime migration territory, where avian species that summered over in cooler, northern climes stop for a day, a week, a month before continuing their flight south. Already we've had several new visitors. Five pairs of chipping sparrows recently joined our backyard bird bunch, with several of them bold enough to join the finches on the thistle feeders while the others steadfastly remain ground feeders, pecking at the seeds dropped below. Chipping sparrows are known to summer throughout our state but, with the exception of the cowbird-invaded couple, we had no others until two weeks ago and now it's almost as if we're swimming in the cute, red-mohawked little cheepers.

Another recent arrival is the tufted titmouse. Unlike the chipping sparrow, the tufted titmouse is a year-round denizen of this part of the state. Why it took so long to arrive here is anyone's guess. Usually seen alone, I was thrilled to see not one but two at our bedroom feeder, eating the peanuts I'd put out specifically for them. I have high hopes that the titmice might investigate the three decorative birdhouses I have out front and choose to roost inside one.

If not, then perhaps the black-capped chickadees that arrived last week will move in; the birdhouses are sized for them, titmice, and wrens. Like the titmouse, the chickadee is supposedly a year-round bird, although it first appeared at my oil sunflower feeder out front last week. There are four of them, and the kids are captivated by the cute, chubby little bird and his "chick-a-dee-dee-dee" call.

Other birds seem to simply be passing through. I've seen two tree swallows -- one yesterday, one the day before --- perching on one of the nesting boxes and, egads, the playground swing beam. Most likely they're following the swallow migration, but a part of me hopes they are also investigating potential nesting sites for next year. Tree swallows are welcome nesters, cavity birds like bluebirds. They will even defend bluebird nests from invaders like house sparrows and starlings. Hopefully more will come this way before continuing their southern migration.

An unfamiliar call coming from high atop one of the mature deciduous trees in the back forest led me to quickly snap a photo of what, to my eyes, appeared to be a yellow blob but, thanks to my camera, was readily identified as a female scarlet tanager. Scarlet tanagers prefer woodlands, and the tops of trees especially, where it hunts for insects and can keep an eye out for predatory birds. Tanagers are among the first birds, along with swallows, orioles, and grosbeaks, to leave in the fall, and this female was no exception to that rule.

Our grosbeaks, however, seem quite happy where they are for now. Known to be one of the last birds to arrive in spring and one of the first to leave, the grosbeaks surprise me, as I expected them to have left already. Every morning and every late afternoon, however, I find them perching on the deck rail, waiting to greet me, before hopping over to the safflower feeder. We have a few new grosbeaks, too: a young couple -- a King Street punk and his gal opposed to our very proper British-like couple. The young male is less plump, more streamlined, and has far fewer splotches of white on his back. His mate has well-defined white eyebrows and is also more sleek than our Mrs. Grosbeak. They also are more nervy -- when hungry, they just fly straight for the feeder, dispersing any birds that might already be there. Mr. and Mrs. Grosbeak surely must not approve. I'm sure the house finches don't.

As for Sean and Bluette, I haven't seen them in days. This in part is due to scheduling; I just don't happen to be around when it's prime feeding time for them and their fledgling quintet. The mealworms I set out for them are always gone, however. Among my To Do items is set out mealworms and then sit nearby, camera in hand, waiting for them to come eat. Last night, as I was serving dinner to my own brood, I noticed a blue blob, then another, on the bluebird hook and feeder. Grabbing the binoculars, I was surprised that it was not Sean and Bluette but another bluebird couple. I'd forgotten that, although some bluebirds do winter in our area, most also head south. This pair had undoubtedly seen the Dinner Bell full of mealworms and paused in their travels. Perhaps they noticed all the nice bluebird boxes on our acreage, and will come back to nest next spring. Sean could use a little male bonding... or rivalry in flying at my camera!

Every day seems to bring new arrivals for the season. Some, like the American goldfinch and the mourning dove, will stay here instead of travel southbound. Some, like the dark-eyed junco, the white-crowned sparrow, and the white-throated sparrow, will not just pause here but will actually stay for the winter, then head back north again. The seasonal changes do mean saying goodbye to some of our colorful summer friends, but I look forward to our new arrivals... and the long-awaited departure of my blackbird bunch (and my apologies to the poor Southern homeowner who'll inherit the 133 grackles, cowbirds, and blackbirds for the winter!).