Fall Migration

Day 317: Fall migration is under way, so if you're of a birding bent, be on the alert for migratory species, including an influx of some species you may see throughout the summer. Black-headed Grosbeaks (Pheucticus melanocephalus) are a common sight at my feeders from May to September with a few outliers at the extremes, but currently, they're here in droves, parents with youngsters in tow, the juveniles still at the begging stage. The young are fed by both parents, and indicate their desire for food by trembling their wings, raising their open beaks and slightly lowering their shoulders. It's fun to watch mom or dad trying to educate them into finding food for themselves by refusing the first few pleas while eating a little, as if to say, "Look, here it is. Just bend over and pick up a seed. I'm not going to do this forever." My yard has been full of young birds for several weeks now, from Mourning Doves to Goldfinches, Grosbeaks (both Black-headed and Evening), even the young Steller's Jays who will remain here through the winter. Yesterday, the family of Grey Jays stopped by for a snack. They'll be headed UP, not south, going back to the snowy alpine areas where they've cached food to carry them through the cold months.

Black-headed Grosbeaks

Day 222: Step out on the back porch, and the sound of the chirps is deafening. Even inside, it's loud. Would I trade it for all the tea in China? Not on your life! I love my "parrots," both the Black-headed Grosbeaks (above, male on the left, female on the right) and the Evening Grosbeaks. They are out in full force, educating their young into the fine art of getting my attention when the feeders are running low. "See? If you sit next to the window and stare at her, she'll get up and bring more." Am I well-trained? Absolutely!

Both species (Pheucticus melanocephalus and Hesperiphona vespertinus) exhibit sexual dimorphism, i.e., males and females are different colours. The females' drab plumage make them less noticeable to predators. Young birds are also less brightly coloured than the adults. True feather colours come in with the first moult.

Parrot Season

Day 202: They're here, and they think they're starving! Yes, both species of "parrots" have returned to my feeders in droves. The amount of seed these birds can put away never ceases to amaze me. Sitting in the chair closest to the closed double-pane window, my ears are assailed by the sound of seeds being cracked continuously. It's not unlike the crackle of a fire on a chilly winter day, and equally warming to my spirit. Black-headed Grosbeaks (Pheucticus melanocephalus, left) sing a melodious carol; Evening Grosbeaks (Coccothraustes/Hesperiphona vespertinus/a, right) speak a strong "CHURP!" to voice appreciation for the ready supply of black-oil sunflower seed I provide. Of all the birds in my yard, hand-sitters aside, none gives me as great pleasure as my horde of "parrots."

Black-headed Grosbeak, Pheucticus Melanocephalus

Day 212: Collectively and colloquially (at least in the argot spoken in my yard), they're Parrots. Not Porch Parrots, just Parrots. "Porch Parrot" is a phrase reserved for Evening Grosbeaks, and if you've been following along for any time, you will have heard the story of how they earned their nickname several times. Nevertheless, the beaks alone are enough to stipulate that Black-headed Grosbeaks (Pheucticus melanocephalus) are also Parrots, but I have never assigned them a further distinction. Yard Parrots, maybe? That seems too bland for such a striking bird. They are seasonal here, as were the Porch Parrots in the dim beginnings, although now a few of the latter stick around all year, recognizing that there's a good thing going in terms of a reliable diet of black-oil sunflower seed even when three feet of snow covers the ground. The Black-heads haven't figured that out yet, but they have learned the trick of coming to the window to glare at me when the feeder goes empty. Even if I'm involved in needlework or on the computer, I can feel that stare on the back of my neck, and yes, I respond accordingly. Currently, the vast majority of birds at my feeders are Evening Grosbeaks and Black-headed Grosbeaks, with a liberal sprinkling of Pine Siskins, Goldfinches and assorted sparrows for spice. But there are others, and tomorrow is Global Big Day. I probably won't have to leave my living room to get a count of at least twenty species.

Yoo-hoo!

Day 218: Bad photo, I know, but I wanted to show context. This...this right here is what happens when I inadvertently let the feeders go empty. In this case, it was a female Black-Headed Grosbeak, but the males, the Chickadees and the hummingbirds all know that if I'm sitting at the computer, they can come around to the front window and glare at me until I look up, which I usually do fairly quickly because...well, because you know that feeling you get when somebody is staring at you? Yeah, that. I never put more than a cup of seed in each feeder because the pigeons, starlings and blackbirds would clean up the food in no time flat. As it is, I stand at the window and shoo them away until the invited guests arrive. That said, when you're feeding a hundred or so "parrots," three cups of black-oil seed disappears pretty fast. I make them clean their plates, so to speak, to resort to picking through husks on the ground or to search for tiny bits in the trays, but when they truly hit "empty," this is what happens. Have they got me trained? You bet. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

The Blackheads Are Back!

Day 208: I have Blackheads! No, I'm not going through adolescence again. The Black-Headed Grosbeaks have returned. Unlike the Evening Grosbeaks which are absent only the few months of winter, the Blackheads are seasonals, here for the summer like the seasonal rangers in the Park. While "on duty," these American Robin-sized birds will consume bugs, berries and and black-oil sunflower seed in vast quantities, and will fill my yard with songs similar to that of the Robin but more melodic and varied. They pair for the breeding season, and woe betide another Grosbeak who tries to encroach. Mid-air "beak fights" are common and spectacular; they will also attack intruding Steller's and Scrub Jays. In my observations, they are tolerant of Evening Grosbeaks, Spotted Towhees and smaller birds even when the feeders are at "elbow-room only" status. It's May, and the contorted filbert looks like a Christmas tree, dozens of yellow Evening Grosbeaks, orange Blackheads, and the occasional "raspberry juice" finch or Goldfinch thrown in for highlights.

Down Among The Fuchsias

Day 292: It's baby bird season around here, so I shouldn't have been startled when something moved in under the leaves of one of my hardy fuchsias while I was photographing the flower. I'd just propped the stem up with the stick you see here, not thinking that I might be moving someone's parasol. A young female Black-Headed Grosbeak popped out from under the foliage and gave me an inquisitive look, not particularly disturbed by my presence or that of the scary camera. At first I thought it was an injured adult. Despite my best efforts to prevent window strikes, they still happen far more often than I like. However, the behaviour of this individual was that of a fledgling, and my suspicions were confirmed as she moved around and I could see that some of her feathers were still developing. Smart little girl, she'd found a hiding place to keep herself safe until she can fly strongly. We shared a few moments of eye-to-eye as I assured her I wasn't a threat. I'm confident that she'll be okay, although for a minute, I wondered if I was going to be nursing another Grosbeaky person back to health.

Black-Headed Grosbeak, Pheucticus Melanocephalus

Day 204: A few days ago, my botany partner wrote to say that the Black-Headed Grosbeaks had arrived at his house and was wondering if I had seen any yet. I had not. However, yesterday morning when I threw back the curtains, I startled half a dozen who were searching the feeders for any leftovers. I immediately put out black-oil sunflower seed, and for the next half hour or so, stood out on the back porch despite rain and wind, watching one of my favourite birds dine at leisure at Cafe Crow. That said, it seems that every time Kevin calls to see if I need groceries, the list I give him begins with some sort of bird seed. Gotta keep my clients happy!

As a point of interest, Black-Headed Grosbeaks are one of very few species of birds who are able to eat Monarch butterflies. Their systems can process the toxins contained in milkweed, the Monarch caterpillar's sole source of food. Particularly in Mexico where Monarchs winter, Black-Headed Grosbeaks consume large numbers of the butterfly. They also consume the toxic berries of both mistletoe and poison oak. Other foods include seeds, insects, arachnids and even small snails. The food chain is a complex web, connected on levels that we barely understand, but the bottom line is this: everybody has to eat, whether it's Black-Headed Grosbeaks consuming Monarch butterflies, crows gobbling robin eggs, or hawks taking songbirds on the wing. There is a balance to be struck, and we should not interfere.

Black Parrots

Day 216: The "other" Parrots have arrived, which if you're not one of my regular followers, may be a bewildering statement, accompanied as it is by a photo of a Black-Headed Grosbeak (Pheucticus melanocephalus). It might help if I explained that the Porch Parrots are now here in vast numbers, i.e., I have so many Evening Grosbeaks that I'm having to fill the feeders twice daily. It's those big chartreuse beaks, big seed-cracking beaks which earned them the nickname "Parrots." The cacophony of chirps ("CHURP!") is deafening from the back porch, the contorted filbert serving as a jam-packed choir loft. The red dogwood carries as many yellow and orange birds as it does green leaves, and all of them demanding second helpings. My year and my world would be incomplete without the Parrot complement, such bright and gregarious little souls they are.

Yard Birds

Day 223: Five years ago, I got new neighbours, noisy ones. They had a kid (young), they had dogs, they had parties, they had arguments, and they had cell phones which must not have worked indoors because they talked on them on their porch at all hours of the day and night. The bird population which I had cultivated over twenty years dropped to an all-time low in the first two weeks, never returning to more than about 60% of the former census. Those birds which did come to the feeders were jumpy and nervous even around me, a radical change from my having to ask them to move over when I went to put out breakfast. My bird-watching activities also suffered. While I had formerly spent many hours sitting on the porch in the company of my feathered friends, now I seldom stayed out more than five minutes at a time, hoping to avoid being engaged in complaining one-sided conversation. In short, I readjusted my lifestyle, all but giving up an activity which had previously given me great enjoyment. It goes without saying that when the neighbours announced their intention to move a few weeks ago, I felt secretly pleased.

The house is unoccupied now, soon to be demolished and with no certain plans for the property's future. Although thieves have already ransacked it, one good thing has come to pass: my bird census is visibly growing, as shown by these photos all taken within half an hour pleasantly spent on my back stoop.