Archive for the ‘bird song’ Category
a storm of birds
We are expecting major snowfall/freezing rain in the next couple of days. I think the birds must sense this because there is a veritable storm of birds at the feeders this morning.
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We have evening grosbeaks, a downy woodpecker, chickadees, nuthatches and mourning doves. By far the largest numbers are the redpolls and goldfinches. We also have red and grey squirrels, but they didn’t show up this morning.
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The birds fly in from our surrounding trees and feed for a while, coming and going. Then a dog barks or a car goes by and the whole flock leaves at once. Only a few brave grosbeaks cling to the feeder. Eventually, all the birds return and begin to feed.
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We keep the feeders full during the cold weather and feed with nyjer (thistle) seed and black-oil sunflower seeds.
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Watching the birds is lots of fun. Each species seems to have its own feeding-personality:
- the chickadees land, grab and leave as quickly as possible;
- the woodpeckers cling to the feeder and only leave when they’ve had their fill;
- the finches (redpolls and goldfinches) arrive as a flock and stay, to feed mostly on the fallen seed under the feeders;
- the grosbeaks, much bigger than the finches, mingle with them and hang on to the feeders even after other birds have been frightened away.
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Bird watching is a great way to spend time during these days of pandemic lockdown. Still haven’t seen my first cardinal! And this year I haven’t yet seen a purple finch, so common in previous years.
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All my best,
Jane
bird songs in the grey wood
Today I sat on the back deck and listened to the birds. I can’t stay for long because our robin who has returned for year three gets upset with me. The photo below was taken in 2018, but taking a new photo just gets the robin very agitated.
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So, here is the list for today:
mourning doves – hooo hooo
northern parkland last – whirrrrr-zip!
robin – cheer cheer cheery weee
ovenbird – t-cheer, t- cheer, t-cheer
hairy woodpecker – pit, pit, pit … this fellow has been beating on the metal flashing of our roof daily. This morning he began at 5:30. Just before sun-up. I took the photo below in 2017.
All the best to you,
staying home and
in my two household bubble.
Jane
a gulp of swallows
The days are warm and humid. The nights offer compensating cool. The gardens are full of produce and, yesterday, we made our first stop at a roadside stand to get apples. People say “feels like fall.” On the weather channel they call this “hurricane season.” We turn the calendar on the kitchen wall to September.
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Fall is a month away, but the birds know the time of year. They flock with a sense of urgency, even desperation.
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A flock of swallows is called a ‘flight’ or a ‘gulp.’
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gulp
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barn swallow (Hirundo rustica)
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Flight of swallows
against blue sky
gapes, as thousands
thicken cables,
telephone lines,
weather reports,
gossip. Feels like
fall. Birds follow
clues of day length,
temperature,
scarcity of food.
Gulp of swallows
expands, contains
every straggler.
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Copyright Jane Tims 2019
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All my best,
Jane
spring chorus – winter wren
This morning I added a new bird to our spring chorus singers – the winter wren.
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It is the first I have heard of him this year. At 6:45, just after dawn, he began his amazing song. His tweets and runs and burbling sound so joyful and each song lasts about seven seconds, very long for any bird song. He may be a winter wren but to me he is always the ‘scribble bird’.
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To hear the winter wren sing, click here .
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He joins my growing list of morning singers:
- black and white warbler – ‘sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet’
- American robin – ‘cherry up cheery-eee’
- nuthatch – ‘yank, yank, yank, yank’
- phoebe – nasal ‘fee-bee’
- snipe – winnowing
- our neighbour’s rooster
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I often include elements of the morning bird chorus in my poetry. This poem, written about the Salmon River Covered Bridge, is in my poetry book in the shelter of the covered bridge (Chapel Street Editions, 2017). To obtain a copy of the book, go to Chapel Street Editions or contact me through the comments.
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The Salmon River Bridge, near Sussex, Kings County, was built across the Kennebecasis River in 1908. Today it is used as a rest area. In the absence of traffic, wild life occupies the bridge. Virginia creeper covers one corner of the roof and rose bushes crowd the edges of the road.
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scribble
Salmon Bridge
Kennebecasis #7.5
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The robin, chary. Her beak drips
with wet meadow grass and chickweed.
She clucks, longs to add another strand
to her nest in the rafters,
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woven with the trill of a scribble bird,
a winter wren delirious. And downy
woodpeckers, wing-flare and scrabble,
flirt in the willows, weeping.
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A warbler (yellow blur-bird)
and a red-wing, toweeeee.
Pink roses, meadowsweet
chip, chip, chip, so-wary-we
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and beneath the bridge
in soft mud beside pulled grass
the bleary track of a black bear
claws and pads
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Published, in the shelter of the covered bridge, Chapel Street Editions, 2017
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All my best,
Jane
spring chorus – snipe
For the last two mornings, about 9:00, about one and a half hours after sunrise, I hear a song that is not a song. A winnowing ‘hoo, hoo, hoo, hoo, hoo, hoo,’ like a repeated, trailing set of high pitched notes, echoes in the grey woods. This is the mating display and call of a snipe. The amazing thing is, the call is not coming from the snipe’s throat, but from its feathers. As it flies, the air moving through the tail feathers makes the ‘call.’ To hear this sound, visit here.
The snipe is a bird of wetlands and marshes. It has a long bill and black, white and brown feathers. There is still lots of snow on the ground but this bird seems anxious to get on with the season.
The only other birds singing this morning were the crows and our neighbour’s rooster!
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scribble bird
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Winter Wren
Troglodytes hiemalis
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How to find
centre of forest.
Joy the objective.
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Tiny tail
shivers as he sings.
Delirious trill.
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Troglodyte
darts into thickets,
creeps into crevasses.
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Lifts an eyebrow,
joins a chime of wrens.
Elusive ripple,
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varied trill,
incoherent whir,
tremble to warble.
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Distinguish
the note, the half-note,
the tone, the tangle.
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Forget where
you once were going,
indecisive
scribble bird.
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All my best,
Jane
Safe place for a nest
No surprise to me … a robin has built a nest in the eaves of our house. Eighteen feet above the ground, this is a safe place for a nest. The robin does not think so. When I sit on the deck for my daily cup of tea, the robin sits in a near-by tree and scolds me. He gives a single annoyed chirp. If a robin could scowl, he is certainly scowling.
winter wren and the morning bird chorus
This morning, just after sunrise, I listened to the song of the Winter Wren. This little wren and its tiny tail shiver as he sings. I call his song a scribble-song. Its powerful trills and whistles last for several syllables. The Cornell Lab of Ornithology website All About Birds describes it as “a rich cascade of bubbly notes.” To me it celebrates the busy joyfulness of our Grey Woods in spring. To hear the song of the Winter Wren, go to https://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Winter_Wren/overview
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I have listened to the morning bird chorus every day for the last week. This morning I heard:
Black-capped Chick-a-dee
Northern Parula
Winter Wren
Eastern Phoebe
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I often include elements of the morning bird chorus in my poetry. This poem, written about the Salmon River Covered Bridge, is in my poetry book in the shelter of the covered bridge (Chapel Street Editions, 2017). To obtain a copy of the book, go to Chapel Street Editions or contact me through the comments.
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The Salmon River Bridge, near Sussex, Kings County, was built across the Kennebecasis River in 1908. Today it is used as a rest area. In the absence of traffic, wild life has occupied the bridge. Virginia creeper covers one corner of the roof and rose bushes crowd the edges of the road. In mid-May, when we were there, birds were busy in and around the bridge, preferring to be left to their own springtime activities.
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scribble
Salmon Bridge
Kennebecasis #7.5
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The robin, chary. Her beak drips
with wet meadow grass and chickweed.
She clucks, longs to add another strand
to her nest in the rafters,
~
woven with the trill of a scribble bird,
a winter wren delirious. And downy
woodpeckers, wing-flare and scrabble,
flirt in the willows, weeping.
~
A warbler (yellow blur-bird)
and a red-wing, toweeeee.
Pink roses, meadowsweet
chip, chip, chip, so-wary-we
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and beneath the bridge
in soft mud beside pulled grass
the bleary track of a black bear
claws and pads
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Published, in the shelter of the covered bridge, Chapel Street Editions, 2017
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All my best,
Jane
natural treasures – gems from a day in early spring
After a wet spring, we were not certain when we would be able to reach our camp this year. Although the snow is gone, we don’t want to risk getting stuck or damaging our lane.
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just a week ago there was still snow on the road and the ruts we could see were very spongy
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We were so happy when we were able to drive all the way to our cabin door. We did a bit of tidying, put markers at the base of the little cedars we lost in the tall grass last fall and my husband did some clipping of trees over-growing the road.
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I did a small display of two of the treasures we found last year, a big pine cone and a chunk of pinkish stone. But I can’t display the best treasures of the day:
- the back and forth banter of two Barred Owls. This is the big owl who calls ‘Who cooks for you?’
- the tremolo of a Common Loon on the lake. The tremolo is one of at least four distinctive vocalisations from this bird. The vibrating ‘who-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo’ is usually a call to warn of intruders or to announce arrival at a lake.
- the ‘I love dear Canada, Canada, Canada’ of the White-throated Sparrow or the nasal ‘fee-bee’ of the Eastern Phoebe.
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I love our trips to our cabin and the treasures offered to us by nature every time we visit.
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Hope you are enjoying the spring season.
All my best,
Jane
a new bird feeder #2
I have given up manufacturing. In the last month I built two bird feeders: one from a two liter Coke bottle and one from coconut shells. The squirrels bounced on the bottle feeder and broke it, bad squirrels. And the snow filled up the coconut shells, bad snow. So we went to Co-op and bought a new feeder. Metal, very fancy, a simulated lantern. No anti-squirrel technology (our squirrels puzzle out every one).
The birds are delighted. A day after our big snow storm, they are here by the dozens: goldfinches, chickadees, nuthatches, lots of blur-birds (my photography is not stellar).
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chickadee at the new feeder (sunflower seeds)
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chickadee and goldfinch at the new feeder
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Copyright Jane Tims 2018
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