Parrot Time

Day 198: It's full-on Porch Parrot Time, and the trees are alive with the sound of chirping. Yes, the Evening Grosbeaks (Hesperiphona vespertinus) are back en masse. The males (left) have been around for a month or so, only joined by the females (right) in the last few days. I have only seen one or two Black-headed females in the mix, but no males as yet. It makes me curious about the division of household duties, why the males of one species would serve as scouts, but the females of another perform the same task. In any event, it's an exciting time. Pretty soon, there will be little baby Porch Parrots at the feeders, for me, one of the happiest times of the year.

Christmas Party

Day 61: It's party time! The winter Porch Parrots showed up a few days ago and made short work of the seeds I'd laid out for breakfast. You might think that they'd have flown south by now, but once they'd pinned a seemingly endless source of black-oil sunflower seed on their mental maps, they've been here every winter. The census appears to have grown somewhat, increasing until there is now no longer space for everyone on the trays. Inevitably, there will be some pushing and shoving, the occasional beak battle and a lot of bad language, apparently the social standard for Parrot parties. In the end, though, everyone gets a fair share of the goodies, and no one goes home feeling like they were left out of the door prize drawing.

Prodigal Parrots

Day 157: Phenology is all about good record-keeping. Even though this isn't the best picture I've ever taken, it serves to document the return of the prodigal parrots (all sons per my single observation) after an absence of roughly six weeks. They've extended their term here over the years, recognizing a Good Thing when they see one, i.e., a seemingly unlimited supply of the black-oil sunflower seed which is their favourite fare. They were only here for a few minutes to check out the feeders, moving on when the neighbour made a crash-bang in his yard. Their beaks are just beginning to turn chartreuse green, a biologic change which comes with mating season. As for their scientific name, that too is in a state of flux. The International Ornithologists' Union currently prefers Hesperiphona, however, the American Ornithological Society still places them in Coccothraustes. That said, both groups agree that they are more closely related to the Hooded Grosbeak and hawfinches than to Black-headed and Rose-breasted and the cardinals. In any event, they'll aways be "Porch Parrots" to me.

There Is Nothing...

Day 295: Friends know the phrase well: "There is nothing...absolutely nothing!...cuter than baby birds!" The last several weeks have provided me with much amusement in the character of newly-fledged Evening Grosbeak kids being fed by one or both parents. There is much to be learned from the patience seen here, and from the occasional demonstration of "tough love"when mom or dad decides it's time for Junior to find food on his own. That said, these are familiar sights. Not so, the youngster who was being instructed in how to drink from the birdbath. A young male, not yet in full colour but with white wing patches fairly well developed, was receiving instruction from Dad: "Look, you bend over, get a beakful of water, tip your head back, and it runs down your throat." The youngster's sense of balance was a little dodgy, and he seemed to be afraid he was going to fall backwards off the rim. He turned around so that his tailfeathers were resting on the bowl, but when he tipped his head back, the tip of his tail slipped to the side and got wet. He shook it off, releasing a sudden Parrot-sized rainstorm. The shower startled him the first time, and then he seemed to realize that the cool water felt good. He decided to forgo drinking lessons in favour of stepping down onto the first tier of the basin for a full and very splashy bath. Dad retreated to the safety of the nearby fence while I watched from the kitchen doorway, wishing I'd had the camera at hand. This breeding season has been one of the most successful so far, with hardly any fatalities. If you're thinking of buying stock, invest in sunflower seeds. I may have to start buying them by the semi-load.

Porch Parrot Paradise

Day 198: The yard is once again full of Porch Parrots. A few over-wintered, as is their custom, and now they have been joined by the larger flock. They'll soon be followed by an influx of Black-headed Grosbeaks, one of which was scouting the feeders yesterday. The Evening Grosbeak is not a true Grosbeak, its genome more closely allied to the Finches. You will find it listed as Coccothraustes vespertinus in most current field guides. However, the International Ornithologists' Union now puts the bird in Hesperiphona alongside the Hooded Grosbeak (a Mexican/Central American species), in a taxonomic shift which is in line to achieve universal acceptance. On the other hand, Black-headed Grosbeaks belong to Pheucticus (true Grosbeaks), as do their cousins Rose-breasted and Yellow, neither of which occur in western Washington. Nor does Blue Grosbeak (another true Grosbeak, Passerina caerulea) visit our area. As much as it delights me that we are learning more about many species through genetic analysis, it sure does make it hard to keep up!

Hand-fed Grosbeak

Day 245: Although they have so far been reluctant to come to my left hand when I have the point-and-shoot camera in my right, several Evening Grosbeaks (both males and females) have accepted seed either by remaining perched on the tray of the feeder while picking it up from my palm, or allowing me to lift them onto my fingers and down to a position which doesn't tax my shoulder muscles. One female may have imprinted on me as the Bringer of Food. She followed me across the road to the mailbox and back again, taking sunflower seeds from my hand for several minutes as I stood in the yard. This is a privilege few people experience. It's one thing to have a Canada Jay steal crackers during a hiking rest break, and a step up from that, to have Chickadees accept your offerings. To have a species less acclimatized to humans eat from your hand (and more than one individual!)...well, that's like finding a rare orchid in the Back of Beyond.

Parrot Tree

Day 83: I don't recall that I've explained the whole story, right from the get-go, of how Evening Grosbeaks came to be known as Porch Parrots to my husband and me. It began with his parrot, a very possessive bird who only put up with me in the absence of his Papa. Carlo didn't skirt around his loyalty, and in fact would announce, "Papa's Parrot!" to anyone who got too close before flying off Bruce's shoulder and attacking the interloper. I had double-pierced earlobes long before it became fashionable, thanks to that bird, but when Bruce was at work, Carlo was tractable and even affectionate toward me. My mother, on the other hand, was afraid to come through the door if Carlo was sitting on Bruce's shoulder.

One year's blithe September weather found Bruce and I hiking the Wonderland Trail which circles Mount Rainier. When we arrived at our camp in Summerland, Bruce went off to find water while I set up the tent. Suddenly, he burst back onto the scene, shouting for me to follow: "Mama! Come quick! There's a whole tree full of parrots!" He had never seen an Evening Grosbeak, and although he knew they were not psittacines, the size of their bills suggested the nickname.

When Mount St. Helens blew in 1980, the Grosbeaks were on their spring migration. The blast disrupted their flight, blew them off course toward the west, placing our home in their path. Perhaps it was one bird, perhaps half a dozen who found the seed we put out for the finches in our window boxes, but within a week or so, they arrived en masse. Their occupancy of our porch supplied the adjective, and "Porch Parrots" became a thing.

These days, I use "Parrots" to describe Grosbeaks of either species (Evening and Black-Headed) who dine at my feeders, but "Porch Parrots" is reserved for Coccothraustes vespertinus. This scene, a photograph taken only yesterday in my yard, calls to mind the hundred or so "parrots" Bruce first witnessed decorating a fir tree at Summerland.

How Many Angels...

Day 51: I think I may have come close to answering the age-old question of, "How many angels can dance on the head of a pin?" The mob of Porch Parrots (Coccothraustes vespertinus, aka Evening Grosbeaks) descended on the feeders (three feeders, mind you) as soon as I laid out seed, and it was "flapping room only" here when occupancy achieved eight, four on each side. Nine or ten managed to crowd into the two pole-mounted dispensers, but many harsh "CHURP" objections could be heard even from inside the house. Although this image only shows the males, there were ladies present in this flock, unlike the group which came a week or so ago which consisted entirely of boys.

Box Of Parrots

Day 98: It's not like I only have one bird feeder out there, y'know. It's just that the Parrots know a good thing when they see one, and my house has been on their map for years. All the feeders are full of Parrots. The conversational exchanges are heated to boiling: "Get off! You're standing on my toes!" "That was MY seed!" "You already had three! It's my turn!" "Move over!" "Budge up, you're hogging the tray!" Don't get me wrong. I love my Parrots dearly, but they Do Not Play Well With Other Parrots. Jays, juncos, blackbirds, starlings...they just ignore them, but you let one Parrot move in on another Parrot's territory and the beak battles ensue. Male or female, it makes no difference. Here, the prime motivator is food, not reproduction. My job is to be sure there's enough black-oil seed to keep everybody reasonably happy. Waitaminit...is that feeder empty AGAIN?

Porch Parrots!

Day 174: They're here! Boys and girls both! The Evening Grosbeaks have arrived! Okay, I tell this story every year, but some of my newer readers may have missed the explanation of how Coccothraustes vespertinus came to be called "Porch Parrots" in my household, so here it comes again.

Back when my late husband and I were both much, much younger, we decided to hike the Wonderland Trail, a 90-plus mile circuit around Mount Rainier. We began our trek at the end of the Westside Road (the true end, not today's truncated version) and when we got around to the east side of the Mountain and a little further than halfway on our 12-day journey, we set up camp in a lovely spot called Summerland. As I was setting up the tent, Bruce went out to the creek for water, but came back, excited and beckoning me to "Come quick! I've got a whole tree full of parrots!" Now it must be said that Bruce did know they weren't actually parrots. He wasn't much of a birder, but since we had a parrot at home, the association established by the Grosbeaks' large green bills was only natural. I identified them for him, and his subsequent remark was predictable: "Yeah, those beaks really are gross!"

Like I said, we were much younger in those days, so much younger, in fact, that Mount St. Helens was still a perfect cone at 9677' high. That changed on May 18, 1980, and so did the migratory flight pattern for the Evening Grosbeaks who were passing by at that very moment. Many of those who survived the blast arrived on our doorstep a few days later, burned, sick, their eyes crusted from irritation by the ash and confused by the disruption of their migration. That said, they found our porch window-box feeding station with its unlimited supply of black-oil sunflower seed and decided it was a good place to recover. Dozens of birds died that first season, but our porch went on Coccothraustes' short list for future visits, so much so that we went through over 800 pounds of black-oil seed almost every subsequent summer. Bruce's "parrots" had found a new home on our porch, and "Porch Parrot" was incorporated into the family lexicon.

When Bruce and I split up and went our separate ways, keeping of the Porch Parrots was transferred to one of our old neighbours who to this day, gives reports of their activities in her Christmas letter. I now have my own flock here (sunflower seeds are in the budget, oftentimes at the expense of things like milk and meat), and I am always, always, always thrilled when my avian guests return.

Parrot Tree

Day 137: First, they sent the scouting party and then, after having ascertained that the food source was reliable and replenished daily, the flock booked the Inn of the Contorted Filbert for an indeterminate stay. Guests who return every year, the Porch Parrots...Evening Grosbeaks...are, to put it simply, the most enjoyable gluttons at my feeders. They favour black-oil sunflower seed, and should I happen to let the supply run down, they'll perch on the shepherd's hooks closest to the window and let me know about it with impatient "CHURP!" demands. I've given up keeping a tally of the hundreds of pounds of seed they consume every year, but it's more than 10 fifty-pound bags between April and August, never mind the shoulder seasons. I've been meeting their nutritional requirements for over forty years, first at my home on a SW Washington prairie and now here. The flock I left behind when I moved from the prairie took up with another neighbour who has continued the tradition. My winter flock usually numbers 10-50 (15 in the tree as I write this), but in the summertime, the census more than doubles and adds in the Black-Headed Grosbeaks as well. My yard is always a chorus of happy bird voices, and what better thanks could there be?

Parrot Invasion!

Day 25: What? Who said that? Did I hear an inquiring, "Churp?" I looked up from my crocheting and saw parrots...Porch Parrots, Evening Grosbeaks, Coccothraustes vespertinus, one of my favourite birds and common spring/summer guests at the feeders. I've seen them in January (in fact, if any of you recall the saga of Friend, it took place over three weeks in January and February), but not November, and I certainly wouldn't have expected a flock. It's a small conclave, maybe a dozen or so birds, males and females, but still they made very short work of today's ration of black-oil sunflower seeds. Something tells me I'd better up the quota. Gotta keep the beaks happy!

Spring Beaks

Day 193: One of the happiest moments in my year is when I hear the first "Churp?" of an Evening Grosbeak at the feeder. From that point on, I wait anxiously for the arrival of the flock and the time when the querulous "churping" of porch-parrots outside the window becomes almost constant. Yes, they have arrived and are consuming black-oil sunflower seeds as fast as those great green beaks can crack the shells.

During breeding season (i.e., spring), the beaks of both males and females turn a bright chartreuse. In courting his lady-of-the-moment, the male (right) effects a bobbing dance, sometimes fluttering the wings like a juvenile bird soliciting food. Nest-building is done largely by the female (left) who selects a site in the fork of a branch. Locally, the preferred nest-tree is Douglas Fir, although these birds nest may nest in deciduous trees as well. The female will produce 2-5 eggs (generally 3-4). Incubation is done solely by the female; the male will bring her food. Both parents tend the young who will be ready to fly about two weeks from hatching. During the months they are here, I keep a steady supply of sunflower seed in the feeders to assure the return of the flock next year.

A Day In The Life Of A Naturalist

Day 157: I bring you two unrelated photos today because...well, because the sun was shining and I actually got outdoors! It's been a long, wet winter. Of course the most exciting part of today was the return of Porch Parrots, i.e., Evening Grosbeaks. A female scout showed up yesterday and was followed today by two males. Once the flock arrives in full force, their appetites will be indulged throughout the summer, and they're likely to go through at least 500 pounds of black-oil sunflower seed. I simply *must* keep my Porchies happy!

Having done my duty by my avian friends, I set out for Pack Forest with GPS in hand thinking to do double duty, hiking and conducting a survey of invasive plants while I was at it. You want invasive species? I'll give you invasive species! Scotch Broom, English Ivy, English Holly, Foxglove and even a small handful of young Tansy Ragwort kept me busy. It took two hours just to write the report!

Pair O' Parrots

Day 218: I've spent several hours sitting out on my back step, hoping to capture Brewer's Blackbird through my lens. Brewer's was a Life List sighting for me when they first appeared at the feeder a few days ago, one male and one female. Standing at my window, I remarked on the yellow eye, but as soon as I moved, he was off like a shot. A few hours later, the male returned and fed on the ground, again flying off at my slightest movement. I took up a vigil on the porch, but although other birds flocked to the food, Brewer's never came within range. Purple Finches, Towhees, Cowbirds, Black-Headed Grosbeaks and assorted sparrows visited by the dozens, giving me plenty of photo opportunities, but for today, a "pair o' parrots" (Evening Grosbeaks) stole my heart. Crows and Ravens notwithstanding, Porch Parrots are my favourite people.

A Return To Simple Pleasures

Day 81: Last spring, the noisy family who had been my neighbours for the last five years moved away. I knew better than to expect an immediate response from the birds who had become skittish and elusive during their tenure. Too many generations had hatched, and the tendency toward nervousness had been reinstilled even in those adults who knew empirically that I was not to be feared. Gradually, the Dark-Eyed Juncos grew less timid and the Steller's Jays' boldness reasserted itself. The Ravens returned, and the Crows gathered by dozens on their feeding platform. Over the summer months, a regular schedule of daily rations brought fewer and fewer panicked flights when I would step out onto the porch, at least with the year-'round residents, but the migratory species were slower to adjust.

When the Porchies first showed up a few weeks ago, I couldn't even walk around the living room without sending them flying across the road. Opening the back door caused a mass exodus from feeder and bough alike. After having had their trust for so many years, the flighty behaviour created by my former neighbours upset me, but I still had hope. Evening Grosbeaks are friendly people once they get to know you, and I am happy to say that this morning I spent quite a while standing on the porch, camera in hand despite the cold temperatures, listening to the happy sounds of seeds cracking and throaty chirps. Porch Parrot Paradise has resumed business as usual, and black-oil seed is being lavished on the clientele.

December Porch Parrots

Day 64: The yard is alive...with the sound of chirping...CHURP! CHURP! Chomp-chomp-chomp! CHURP! CHURP! (squabble) CHURP! Chomp-chomp-chomp! The Porch Parrots arrived en masse a few days ago, cleaned the feeders in a matter of minutes and were back the next day for more. They skipped one day (or maybe I just didn't see them), but today the feeders are again full of cranky Porchies who are sure the seed their neighbour just ate was better than the one they picked up. Even the females are argumentative, but disputes are never too serious. A few snaps of the beak in the direction of the lower-ranking intruder is all it takes for the dominant bird to establish its position.

Porch Parrots - Coccothraustes vespertinus, Evening Grosbeak - are some of my favourite people. They earned their nickname in a twofold process. The first step occurred while I was hiking the Wonderland Trail with my husband when he discovered them near our camp at Summerland. He drew my attention by saying, "Come here! There's a whole tree full of parrots!" Some years later, the eruption of Mt. St. Helens threw them off their migration route, and hundreds of them came to our porch to feed. They've been "Porch Parrots" ever since, and they've never missed a year, often going through as much as 600 pounds of black-oil seed in a year. What can I say? I'm a sucker for birds.

Holiday Visitors

Day 61: I looked up from my knitting at the sound of many familiar voices outside the window, there to see at least two dozen porch parrots (Evening Grosbeaks to you) squabbling over the best spots at three feeders and on the ground. They are resident here from April or May until September, but occasionally, a group of holiday travellers will pass through during the winter. They have my yard marked as a reliable source of black-oil sunflower seed, the favourite from the smorgasbord I use to attract a wide variety of birds. That said, this lot was skittish, unlike my summer crowd. As soon as I opened the back door to take a photo, every bird but this one female lit out for the trees across the road.

January Porch Parrots

Day 81: A mob of porch parrots showed up a few days ago, cleaned the feeders and left as swiftly as they had arrived. I didn't see them again until this morning when a flock of a dozen, both males and females, appeared within seconds of the time I laid out the seed. They have my feeders marked on their maps, but January visits from these beautiful birds are scarce, and always bring me great pleasure.

"Porch parrot?" I hear you asking. Blame my late husband. He dubbed them "parrots" for their huge beaks, and when Mt. St. Helens blew in 1980, hundreds of them were shifted off their normal flyway and into our yard. When the windowboxes filled with them, the "porch" part of the nickname was a logical extension. Technically, they're Evening Grosbeaks (Coccothraustes vespertinus), a robin-sized bird which some say resembles a Goldfinch on steroids. During mating season, that big beak turns a vivid chartreuse green, making them even more colorful. Their call is a somewhat petulant, inquiring "Churp?" and a sound I recognize as my cue to lay in a few hundred pounds of black-oil sunflower seed to keep them happy during the spring and summer. This bird is a male. The females are greyish-green.

My Favorite People

Day 202: My favorite people are back, and I've just laid in another 40-pound bag of black-oil sunflower seed to meet the demand. They know they've got a good thing going here, because I would go hungry before I'd neglect my Porch Parrots.

Coccothraustes vespertinus is a robin-sized bird which some say looks like a Goldfinch on steroids. The male is brilliant yellow with white wing bars, black primaries and tail. A yellow "eyebrow" marks a dark head with a blaze of color, but in the breeding months, nothing is as striking as the massive bill which changes from greyish to chartreuse. Female Evening Grosbeaks are marked similarly, but their overall body color is a green-tinged grey. Their call is a single, plaintive note inflected on the end: "CHURP?" sometimes burred slightly as if said with a Scottish accent.

These beautiful migrants have long memories and an unerring sense of direction. Once they have marked your feeders on their mental maps, you'll find it hard to keep up with their appetites without taking out a mortgage on your home.