Yes, its been a while since I've done one of these. Gotta break out the camera, remove 4 inches of dust, clean the lens, awaken photoshop from its slumber, and then I've got to actually write something useful.
Well I figure, new year, new bird diary! Jump behind the fold to see a seasonal bird blog, filled with birds you should expect to see in the winter, and some rather pretty photos of one most of you will never see this time of year, unless you get very, very lucky.
Okay, what is this mixed-winter flock he's talking about?
Going back a few months to my Darwin diary, I spoke about the evolutionary changes birds have gone through in order to survive this ever-changing world in which we live in - I'll never forgive him for that second "in".
Individual survival depends upon changing not just over the long run, but from day to day, season to season. Animals which are normally competing for resources during breeding season are now being pushed to their limits as food scarcity and foul weather dramatically increase their calorie demands as well as their risk of being attacked by predators. The byproduct of this risk enhancement is survival demands pooling together resources to spread out the risk (this is beginning to sound like an HRC diary) even if it reduces the available resources for each individual and species. Competition flies out the window, and survival is all that matters.
Now even if many of these birds do share the same food source, they often have skills and behaviors which make them very valuable to the community, which is why they become the glue that holds it together. In much of the northeast, the bird that becomes the center of the flock is the black-capped chickadee. Their loud and booming voices carry through long distances, and permit easy reference. And hey, if you hear a chickadee calling from a distance to other chickadees, it usually means he or she has found a meal. Why not take advantage of this and join in?
Another mainstay of the winter flock is the tufted titmouse.
Sorry for image quality people, but these were all taken last week during a mild rainstorm. Details on this later...
The titmouse is a very industrious bird, very fast, gregarious, and very loud. A bit more nervous than the chickadee, which is where it has its special role- the titmouse is the eyes and alarm system of the group. Its a job it often shares with another member of the mixed winter flock, the blue jay. Now in other times of the year not only might the jay be considered a competitor, it is also a potential predator. But in the harsh cold of winter, these little problems are overlooked. Especially if the jay mobs an owl or hawk now and then.
There are several other species which you'll find in the flock, which don't play as central a role but they are common because of their range and breeding success. Downy woodpeckers, northern cardinals, slate-eyed juncos and sometimes goldfinch are common additions. These are hardier species of bird, and are either non-migratory or they consider this "south" for the winter. White-throated sparrows and the occasional white-crowned sparrow can be found as well, but they most often keep to their own. Another common bird in the flock is the song sparrow.
Although they are somewhat migratory, some birds like the song sparrow will travel a bit south, but they are well within their year-round range. Just as a quick aside these are not the only birds that overwinter, but these are the ones most commonly found in the mixed flock. Robbins, mockingbirds, morning doves, pine siskin, crossbills, grossbeaks, chipping sparrows, waxwings, and a few other species will sometimes be found in the general area, but aren't usually associated. Most of these birds are in their own flocks. There is safety in numbers.
A bird that sometimes hangs around with the flock is the golden-crowned kinglet, North America's most northerly year-round insectivore. These hardy and stunning little birds (sorry, didn't see any last weekend) will have family flocks that could number in the dozens, that shelter together and huddle for warmth when it gets real cold. They are at great risk due to their diet- a serious snowfall or worse an ice storm can prevent them from finding any insects or grubs for a few days, which often kills the entire flock. Its a risky life staying over the winter, but they chose not to migrate
Now back to the story of last weekend. We went over for Xmas to visit my fiancee's sister in Kerhonksen, NY. Its a small town in lower Ulster county, not too far away from Sullivan county. 2009 had been a dreadful year for birds there, after August I literally didn't see anything at all, not a warbler, not a grossbeak, not an oriole, flycatcher, vireo, bobolink... if it wasn't a woodpecker or jay, it was gone. But that shouldn't stop a birder from trying. I took a walk on Friday in the very light snow, and I did see the usual winter flock, and a good number of goldfinch which was a nice touch. It wasn't what I'd call spectacular, but it was nice and productive.
Saturday morning, was a different story. In the very light rain, I was inundated by birds. Not even 200 feet from the house, I saw a massive flock of titmice, nuthatch, jays and sparrows. At least 20 titmice, 5 nuthatch, and a dozen jays, 30 juncos and a few white-throats in a noisy conglomeration of avian feeding frenzy. And as I crossed the road, I saw the bluebirds.
I have seen very large flocks in the area, numbering at least two dozen birds in late summer and early fall. But they were in the margin between an open field still used for cattle, but barely, and a stand of trees. This time they were in deeper woods, but in a way also in the margins between roadside and brush.
As you can see in the photos, the reason they were here was the berries! A food source, bright red and easily accessible in the otherwise snow-covered landscape. This was a bird magnet.
So I ran back to the car like a chicken without a head...
sorry, couldn't resist, and got the camera. I took about 75 photos of bluebirds, most from quite a distance, and many had the misfortune of branches and twigs in the way. And running around with a giant 300mm F4 lens in the middle of the snow isn't a very good way to stay inconspicuous from already nervous birds, just trying to stay alive.
I'd say the overall size of the flock was about 20 birds, both sexes with about two-thirds male. It is harder to sex them with low-light, and they weren't being very cooperative. Maybe it is time to buy that new Canon 7D...
Extra-added new year's day bonus.
The old birder's New Year's resolution is to take the first bird you see in the new year, and make it a special project. Read about it, study it, search for it- devote the year to that bird.
Two years ago I had a cardinal, which was a pretty nice bird. Last year was the song sparrow- again, not bad.
So I hit the trail this morning, hoping for something fun. At first, nothing. I walked nearly a quarter of a mile before I heard a faint noise in the brush. I thought it was a white-throated sparrow, but it was in fact a rat. So this year's bird is a rat?
Determined not to have a four-legged year-bird, I carried on. As I approached the Jackson avenue underpass I started to really worry- please, please, don't make this year's bird a pigeon! Then it hit me- it has to be a native species. It didn't really matter, because the pigeons were not on their roosts. About thirty feet past the underpass something flew towards me and over into the trees nearby. I knew from flight patterns that it really could only be one of two birds, either a white-breasted nuthatch (which is a very cool bird) or a downy.
This year's bird for me, is the downy woodpecker. It couldn't have happened to a more fun bird.