Red-Breasted Sapsucker

Day 178: You have to wonder how this bird got its common name, because although its head is red and the colour continues on the throat, it only extends a small distance down the breast. Why then is this a Red-Breasted Sapsucker? Sphyrapicus ruber is a woodpecker found only in the western part of the US, but occurs along the west coast from the Alaskan border through California and marginally into Nevada. They feed on sap and the insects drawn to it, drilling in a wide variety of native trees including Doug-fir. Mine seems particularly attracted to my Sitka Mountain-ash, as is evidenced by the neat lines of  'pecker holes in the bark. In fact, one particularly diligent bird topped my tallest Sorbus, and although I appreciated the help (it was too tall for me to manage), it was not work I had contracted and came as a bit of a surprise one morning when I looked out and saw a ten-foot length of the main trunk across my driveway. The break point had been holed to such an extent that it snapped under its own weight. Later, I discovered that the bird had apparently been drawn by ash-borers, and was not simply performing pruning duties but was in fact ridding my garden of a nasty pest. Thanks, Sappy!

Gate Crashers

Day 350: You know the profile. There's always the group who arrive at the party half an hour early, and start in on the food as soon as it's put on the buffet. Robins...American Robins...Turdus migratorius...are rude. A flock of at least two dozen showed up this morning to start in on the Sitka mountain-ash berries. I can only hope the Cedar Waxwings arrive while there are still some left. Okay, I appreciate the cleaning service, because a driveway full of mountain-ash berries leaves your shoes rather sticky after you've gone out to get the mail, but I did not put out this banquet for gluttons. It was meant to nourish the Waxwings as they begin their long journey southward. Robins migrate, yes, but not as far. Still, I suspect a flare has gone up, and it won't be long before the Waxwings notice the increased activity in my yard. They'll be here, and I'll be watching for them.

Waiting For Waxwings

Day 291: Many plants and animals and undergoing phenologic shifts due to the changing climate, and because some are drifting toward earlier seasons and others to later ones, this can be critical. We are seeing wildflower blooms before the arrival of species-specific pollinators, with the consequence that the wildflower species do not set seed and the pollinators go hungry if they cannot adapt to other food sources (and many are not biologically equipped to do so). Another glaring example of radical phenologic divergence is taking place right in my own yard. For the last several years, the fruits on my Sitka Mountain-ash (Sorbus sitchensis) have been ripening earlier and earlier. Now almost a month ahead of its original period, the fruit is colouring while the Cedar Waxwings (Bombycilla cedrorum) are still far to the north where food is plentiful. At the same time, the Waxwings have been arriving here later and later, and last year, the berries had already begun to fall from the Mountain-ash before they showed up in late October. This native tree is one of their primary food sources during the autumn migration. If the berries are gone when the Waxwings arrive, many will not survive their southward journey. In the long term, this may lead to a change in the Waxwings' range, extending it northward and reducing it to the south. However, the operative word in the last sentence is "may." If the Waxwings and Sitka Mountain-ash fail to perform in parallel, one or both may not survive as species.

Waiting For Waxwings

Day 328: The vigil has begun. At some point in the next few weeks, the Cedar Waxwings should be making their fly-over and will undoubtedly stop for lunch when they spy such a lavish spread of Sitka Mountain-ash berries on the two trees in my yard. One tree is a transplanted native, the other (this one) a commercial cultivar. Other than the native being somewhat smaller because it is younger, both trees produce prodigious amounts of berries, and if it wasn't for those dear Waxwings being on the job, my driveway would be a sticky mess. Trust me, I know. One year, the Waxwings passed over without stopping. When the berries dropped, you couldn't see gravel under the boughs. This is the price we sometimes are asked to pay when we create gardens to attract birds, bees and other critters. Sometimes they don't show up, and then we are saddled with clean-up duties. But for the joy that those Waxwings bring me for the few short days they are here, I'm willing to bucket out berries on the years they miss. It doesn't happen often. My trees are on their map.

Absence Makes The Heart Grow Fonder

Day 344: Absence makes the heart grow fonder, so the big question is: Where are my Cedar Waxwings? I have been asking that since the middle of August when the Mountain-ash berries first turned orange, and I have not seen a single bird. It's uncharacteristic of them to give my yard a miss, especially when the table is laid so lavishly. That said, the Chickadees have returned from summer vacation, although they are as yet hesitant to come to my hand for sunflower seeds. The familiarization process must start again, particularly with young birds who have no memory of the outstretched palm. Likewise, older birds will be cautious until they are certain the human perch means them no harm. Still, their cheerful presence is some consolation for the marked lack of  Waxwings.

Western Tanager Female

Day 296: When I cannot go into Nature, Nature comes to me. Pedalling strongly on my exercise bike, I was watching for the butterfly I suspected of being an Orange-Tip and had the camera within arm's reach atop the recycle bin. A flutter of yellow pulled my eyes away from the hawkweed and into the branches of the Sitka mountain-ash, now heavily laden with bright orange berries. It took me a few seconds to find the bird, longer to find it in the lens, and when it was at last in my view, I said, "Well, who are you, then? You're not a Parrot, and you're certainly not a Goldfinch. You're too big to be a Wobbler" (my term for warblers). "Who the heck are you? Oh, I know! I bet you're a lady Tanager!" I recalled having seen a splash of orange amid the deep shadows of the contorted filbert's leaves a few days earlier, and possibly another instance of "orange flash" in the tangle of Philadelphus stems in the back yard, both typical of the type of sighting the males usually give me: a wink of colour which I can't even say for certain is a bird except that it would have to be, all other factors considered. Ms. Tanager sat on her bough long enough for me to get several photos which were sufficient to confirm my identification: young or molting female Western Tanager, Piranga ludoviciana. I wonder where her boyfriend is? And more to the point, do I now have a breeding pair? Oh, that would be exciting news! I seldom see one more than once every few years.