Loaded!

Day 285: "Attention! Attention! Calling all Cedar Waxwings! The feast is on the table!" Both of my Mountain-ash trees are loaded...and I do mean LOADED...with fruit, to the point that I am afraid some of the branches may break under the weight. I don't think I've ever seen as heavy a crop. The Waxwings failed to appear last year (they're intermittent here), which meant that the robins had a banquet, but the trees were not this heavily laden. There's plenty here for everybody this year, if only the Waxwings will notice. What brings them here some years and not others? Are they responding to visual clues like this tree is surely offering? Or do they navigate from waypoint to waypoint with built-in GPS, having marked good food sources during spring migration? What keys them in? Perhaps I should hang out a big neon sign saying, "Waxwings welcome," if this glowing orange invitation doesn't suffice.

Spring Whites

Day 220: Although one could hardly say it's a hard-and-fast rule, I've noticed over the years that there are "colour seasons" here in the Pacific Northwest. The blues come on first, followed by whites, then yellow, trailed slightly later by reds and oranges, then back into purples and blues to close. Certainly, there are strays, particularly when non-native species join the parade, but by and large, we have Camas, Dogwood, Scotch Broom, Paintbrush and Arnica, shading out into Asters and Gentians. Currently, we're in white mode, and that includes nursery plants. Snowball bush, Mountain-ash, Lily-of-the-Valley and Spiraea are in full flower in my yard, with the Columbines just beginning, and an embarrassed early Peony hiding its red face shyly behind their foliage. My flower beds will peak in two or three weeks, then slowly taper off until I start thinking I should buy some Chrysanthemums for fall. But I never do. It seems so silly to add them when I know first frost is just around the corner.

43,716 Siskins

Day 62: It's time to play "Name That Carol!" This was the scene (well, a small portion of the scene) which greeted me when I stepped out to fill the bird feeders at sunrise this morning. The mountain-ash tree was full. The contorted filbert was full. They were hopping around in two inches of snow on the ground, and the chatter was incredible. Even more came when I laid out the seed. If Pine Siskins are on the decline elsewhere, it's not happening at my house! So...have you guessed it yet?

On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me
Forty-three thousand, seven hundred sixteen
Siskins in an ash tree.

I counted (she said with tongue firmly in cheek).

White-tailed Robin

Day 353: For the first time ever, I have observed a White-tailed Robin (Turdus albobuttus) in my yard. Of course, I'm pulling your leg a little here. I suspect that this American Robin is showing evidence of age or injury, as opposed to true leucism which arises due to defects in pigment cells, although that's also a possibility. That said, I have noticed more birds across several species this year which exhibit this trait, and generally in tailfeathers or on the top of the head. One notable exception to that was a crow I observed in early spring with a wide white patch on one wing. The other crows regarded it as a social pariah and drove it away. This Robin has a few white flecks on its crown.

Robin Whitebutt showed up with dozens of his relatives and a flock of Cedar Waxwings who set to work stripping my two Mountain-ash trees of berries. The Waxwings showed a marked preference for the native tree and left as soon as they'd polished it off, leaving the nursery cultivar for the less discriminating robins. The robins returned to finish the job the following day, and it was fun to watch them fluttering like hummingbirds while trying to get a fruit loose from the cluster. By the time evening came, even the berries which had dropped to the ground had been gobbled up, and less than a dozen still hung on the tree, apparently too firmly attached for the birds to pull off. Ordinarily, this is a process which occurs over 4-7 days, with Waxwings present most of the time. In this case, the harvest was done and dusted in less than 36 hours, and Whitebutt left with a full tummy.

Down The Hatch!

Day 351: I had only intended to be outside long enough to fill the bird feeders at the insistence of a Chickadee, so I had not bothered to put on a jacket even though a moderate rain was falling. As I lifted the lid on the first feeder and raised my eyes, a flurry of activity in the Mountain-ash drew my attention. A dozen or more soaking-wet birds were flying in and out among the branches, lighting here and there to peck at the clusters of berries. Could it be? Had my Cedar Waxwings finally arrived? The birds seemed too dark and sleek, and some sported speckled breasts. My vision was diminishing rapidly as my glasses collected raindrops, but otherwise, I was oblivious to the rain. By the time I decided to retreat to the house, my shirt was sodden, but I had been rewarded with a glimpse of a black mask. Yes, the Cedar Waxwings were back. The darkness of their plumage, their slender outlines and even the speckling on their breasts was due to being drenched. Indoors, I trained the camera on them through the window glass and stood watching for half an hour as they stripped the native tree of its fruits. A gang of American Robins had come with them, and the two species were working in shifts: Waxwings in this tree, Robins in that, and then a changing of the guard. The Waxwings clearly preferred the native fruit, but when the Robins overwhelmed them, they retreated to the nursery cultivar. The Robins, thinking that the Waxwings had found something better, would then join them there. Once the native tree was empty of Robins, the Waxwings returned to it. By evening, that tree was almost bare of fruit, but the cultivar still held several large clusters of berries. Perhaps they weren't quite ripe enough to suit the birds' palates, but I expect they'll be back today to finish the job they began yesterday afternoon.