The Daily Bucket is a nature refuge. We amicably discuss animals, weather, climate, soil, plants, waters and note life’s patterns.
We invite you to note what you are seeing around you in your own part of the world, and to share your observations in the comments below.
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Birding at home has felt safer and more comfortable than dodging crowds at parks, so since mid-March I’ve been happily exploring a smaller, saner world — our suburban garden in the Seattle area. Winter is darker and quieter than other seasons, but a small space offers much to observe if one is patient and persistent.
I was going to be home anyway, so, after several years off, I resumed counting for Project Feeder Watch. Its two-day count period inspires longer and more intense viewing, with big payoffs. In previous winters I’d seen only two Varied Thrushes, but in mid-December, I saw six, a record for our garden. Three males and three females worked within 15 feet of each other. Two kicked up fallen leaves, foraging for insects under the shelter of rhododendrons. Another two had a drink and a splash in the bird bath. One foraged in the
salvia garden among seed heads. Number 6, a female, perched on a cotoneaster branch, snapping up one, two or even three berries at a time. It was a kick to watch those vivid red balls travel from the tip of her bill to her crop in a blink. Since then I’ve seen or heard at least one Varied Thrush each day. A Hermit Thrush shows up most days as well, also prowling for berries and insects. Being a hermit, it’s nearly always alone.
This bounty is not just good luck. Mr. WordsandBirds and I have spread a banquet of trees, shrubs and ground covers — many of
them natives, which harbor the specific insects birds need — and it’s been gratifying to see how it helps them. We use no pesticides or chemical fertilizers. We also let all seed heads stand until spring, “neglect” that yields dividends of free nourishment for many Spotted Towhees, Song Sparrows, Dark-eyed Juncos and the lot.
During the warm months, our large patch of salvias, penstemons and agastaches provides a feast for hummingbirds (and a visual feast for us). Blooming usually begins in May and runs through first frost, which this season was late, Dec. 22nd. While migrating Rufous Hummingbirds are gone by early October, Anna’s don’t migrate. They’re year-round residents, so their winter survival depends upon the kindness of strangers who set out sugar-water feeders. I maintain a couple of feeders year-round, and as temperatures drop, I add more. That’s because each multi-port feeder in our garden has an “owner” hummer, and sharing apparently is for sissies. But no matter how many feeders I set out, there are always more hummers than feeders. And because hummingbirds enter torpor to survive the night’s cold, they need food immediately upon rising. Whenever subfreezing temperatures are predicted, I wake early and set out fresh feeders half an hour before first light. I also keep watch as long as temperatures are below 29 degrees. Frozen feeders cost lives.
Anna’s who currently own the three feeders out now are:
1) A first-year male, who defends a feeder in the rhododendrons, which we can see from the house. His realm has shrunk since late December, when frost finished off all blooms in the nearby salvia garden. He’s also in his awkward phase. Bright magenta spots dot his head and throat like measles.
2) A mature female, who guards one hanging above the front porch from her spot in the Strawberry trees (Arbutus unedo) behind it.
3) A mature male, who drew the lucky straw and reigns over a feeder suspended from a branch of a Mahonia x media ‘Charity’ tree. His empire encompasses the pollen in the two mahonias’ copious sprays of yellow flowers, as well as that from two nearby Camellia sasanquas. The pollen
broadens his winter diet. I call him Mr. Foxhole, because he surveys his treasure from low in the camellia’s branches, and seems to fly out only to eat or to attack any would-be poachers who dare come close.
All other hummingbirds must wait for one of those three owners to have an unguarded moment. I’ve seen at least five hummers chasing each other at various times, but I suspect there are more. Hummingbird Wars go on all year, but the stakes are higher in winter, when blossoms are scarce and sugar-water feeders are the main food banks in town. I keep those feeders clean and well-filled.
When we moved here 30-plus years ago, the yard was drab grass punctuated by a few poodled shrubs and several trees so sick or severely hacked that they had to be put out of their misery. Mr. WordsandBirds attacked the grass until it was only a small patch, which I wanted for bare-footing. Next, we (well, he) added many truckloads of soil and hundreds of plants, from ground covers to shrubs to trees, both evergreen and deciduous. Beyond this wild food, we offer scant supplemental food, a choice born of experience.
Over the years, I’ve tried out various feeders for seed-eating birds. Any passing American Goldfinch or Pine Siskin sent me shopping for Niger Thistle and feeders to dispense it. But invariably the birds grabbed a quick pick-me-up and didn’t return, leaving the expensive seed to spoil. Pine Siskins came some years in droves but squabbled so much over position on the feeders that invariably one or two hit a window. Weary of seeing bodies I’d tried to nourish require burial, I admitted defeat. The thistle feeders came down.
I also tried tubular-style sunflower-seed feeders for years. Their long perches accommodated birds from large to small, but too many of them were greedy, messy eaters. I found it difficult to scoop up all the waste each day, particularly during hard rains. Rats threw parties at night. Eventually, Mr. WordsandBirds nixed the seed feeders.
But I missed seeing the birds who came to them — we have a clear view of the feeder pole from our dining-room and kitchen windows — so I broadened my search for The One. And lo! The Squirrel Buster Plus looked the perfect solution. (Not because it could deter squirrels; that was easy. We simply sited the pole more than nine feet from any tree — squirrels easily leap eight feet, but not much farther — and attached a baffle on the pole, beneath the feeders.)
No, the Squirrel Buster Plus held greater promise. Perches that could be adjusted to support only smaller birds! Ports that closed when a heavy bird tried to light! I had to have one.
It worked exactly as advertised. It 86ed larger birds, and their absence permitted the smaller birds to dine in peace. But with time to munch at a leisurely pace, those who could perch on the shorter rods, such as Black-capped Chickadees, began weighing each seed, and jettisoning two of every three.
I could deal with that small mess, but then came the Big Problem. Corvids. Steller’s Jays (to whom we’ve always given peanut pieces, so why did they also want scads of sunflower seeds?) and crows, who
want everything just because they can get it, and whom we discourage because they kill so many robin and jay nestlings each year. Both corvids are keen observers and quick learners. And like children who want candy so badly that they shake the machine dispensing it to get more, they saw a potential bonanza. Lack of hands was no handicap for these smarty birds. They devised their own method, which was flying at speed toward the feeder, then body-slamming it. Once they perfected their technique, they hit the sunflower-seed jackpot. Each slam swung the feeder like a pendulum, which opened the ports, which sent a stream of seed spilling to the ground. Rats, also ever observant, joined the cleanup crew. The Squirrel Buster Plus was a bust.
So, for the past several years, I’ve offered only suet. On the pole with the squirrel baffle, a rain cover sits above a circular cage. A square cage within that cage holds two suet cakes. One cake is pure suet, which primarily draws American Bushtits, Black-capped Chickadees and Chestnut-backed Chickadees. Insects and meal worms are incorporated into the other cake, which attracts more species. Daily visitors include a Bewick’s Wren and the backyard Song Sparrow pair, who have learned to fly up and into the cage with ease (although it’s defeated game Dark-eyed Juncos). Pine Siskins, American Goldfinches and Downy Woodpeckers come occasionally. A few Northern Flickers have found success by bending and bracing their bodies with their tails, then jabbing their long bills at the side, at just the right place. It’s a time-consuming effort, and not all manage it.
Warblers noticed, too. A female Townsend’s came a few times in autumn, followed by a few Yellow-rumps. And on Dec. 1st and 15th, an Orange-crowned Warbler spent many happy minutes getting an easy meal. Both were count days for Project Feeder Watch, and because Orange-crowns are unusual here after November, I was asked for documentation while entering the data. Fortunately, I had a photo at the ready.
With these riches, I no longer miss seed feeders. Famished migrating robins and other hungry birds relish fruits of evergreen huckleberries (Vaccinium ovatum), and other native plants attract multiple species. For those of you with an interest in planting more natives, here’s a short list of species in our garden not yet mentioned:
Our berry-producing natives include Red Huckleberry (Vaccinium parvifolium), Pacific wax myrtle (Myrica californica); various Viburnums, particularly the heavily fruiting highbush cranberry (Viburnum trilobum); a bank of low Oregon grape (Mahonia nervosa); chokecherries (Prunus virginiana); a large patch of salal (Gaultheria shallon), which provides excellent cover and nesting space for Spotted Towhees and Song Sparrows; Kinnikinnick (Arctostaphylos uva-ursi); hybrid manzanita (Arctostaphylos X. media); red-flowering currant (Ribes sanguinium), whose flowers are a boon for newly arriving Rufous Hummingbirds in spring, as well as the resident Anna’s; Indian Plum (Oemlaria cersiformis); Western trumpet honeysuckle (Lonicera ciliosa), whose orange flowers drive hummingbirds wild; and Nootka rose (Rosa nutkana), for birds who like hips. Among the many seed producers are Pacific ninebark (Physocarpus capitatus), vine maples (Acer circinatum), Pacific Dogwood (Cornus nuttalii), spiraea (Spiraea densiflora), Mountain boxwood (paxistima myrsinites) and oceanspray (Holodiscus discolor). We also have scores of native ferns, and even a native Pacific rhododendron (Rhododendron macrophyllum). The non-native rhodies and camellias, whose blossoms we humans enjoy, provide cover and shelter for birds.
This is my small world, which I’ve been happy to share with the birds, and now with you. I vow to be here bright and (probably not so) early to answer your comments. Thanks for reading. What have you seen in your small world today?
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