Birding Notes

Rusty Blackbirds

noreply@blogger.com (Sigrid Sanders) — Thu, 04 Dec 2008 23:32:00 +0000

This afternoon around 3:00, several Rusty Blackbirds were among a small flock of other blackbirds (maybe 100 at most), including Common Grackles and Red-winged, foraging in yards in our neighborhood. The day was damp and gray and chilly, and a light rain had just begun to fall.

The “rusty” pattern on the plumage of the male Rusty Blackbirds looked bright and vivid, almost like copper.

I think this was a small part of a larger mixed flock of Grackles and Red-winged Blackbirds (as many as four or five hundred at a time on a couple of days) that I’ve seen several times recently, but this is the first time this season I’ve been able to find Rusty Blackbirds among them. I’ve been watching for them because the past two years we’ve had a number of Rusties that stayed around through the winter season, and it was fun to be able to spend some time watching them and become more familiar with them. They’re considerably less noisy and smaller than Common Grackles, and usually seem to sort of stick together within a larger mixed flock.

Rusty Blackbirds are “perhaps the least well known of North America’s blackbirds,” according to the species account in Birds of North America.* There are some indications that their populations are declining, but because they are rather inconspicuous and have not been widely studied, there’s much that remains to be learned about them.

Discovering Rusty Blackbirds has been another lesson for me in not taking common things for granted. When I saw a flock of blackbirds in the past, I used to just see “blackbirds.” The first time I saw the Rusties two years ago, it was like suddenly seeing a hidden image in a complex picture – they were there all along, but I hadn’t seen them because I just hadn’t looked. It seems to be a lesson I have to learn over and over again – to really look at what’s here right in front of me.

*Avery, Michael L. 1995. Rusty Blackbird (Euphagus carolinus), The Birds of North America Online (A. Poole, Ed.). Ithaca: Cornell Lab of Ornithology.

A Robin and a Cooper’s Hawk

noreply@blogger.com (Sigrid Sanders) — Wed, 03 Dec 2008 03:36:00 +0000

Late this afternoon, as the sun was low, shimmering and spilling into a thin lake of gold clouds behind the tree-line, several small birds perched in the tops of trees to catch the last rays of light. It was cold and clear, after a day that began with a heavy frost and stayed cold all day. Three House Finches, a Bluebird and a Phoebe all glowed in deceptively rich shades of rose, red and yellow in separate treetops. And one solitary Robin looked especially bright, with its feathers fluffed out and burning a fiery rust-red at the top of a big water oak with a shaggy brown stubble of remaining leaves, on the crest of a hill.

I was standing just below the tree, looking up and admiring the Robin, when suddenly it called chirp-chuck-chuck-cheep! and flew – and a Cooper’s Hawk swooped over, wings outspread, and glided swiftly across the street and into a thick line of trees. This particular corner is a spot where I’ve often seen a Cooper’s Hawk, so I think one is spending the fall and winter season in this area again this year, where there are nearby woods and a creek, as well as open grassy yards and shrubs with lots of small and medium-sized yard birds.

It was a brief sighting, but the size and sturdy shape of the hawk – its barred breast and long, banded tail, and the way it held its wings and turned as it flew – left an image that lingered like a photo. And it came at a nice time, because I was just feeling kind of discouraged about how little bird activity I’ve seen the past few days around here.

Birding on a Segway

noreply@blogger.com (Sigrid Sanders) — Sat, 29 Nov 2008 02:27:00 +0000

Because back problems have kept me from walking as much as usual for the past several weeks, a friend offered to let me try out a Segway – a battery-powered “self-balancing personal transporter” – and it turned out to be a great new way to go birding. It’s amazingly easy to ride, and so quiet I could hear Yellow-throated Warblers, Ruby-crowned Kinglets, Brown-headed Nuthatches, House Finches, Bluebirds and other little birds as I glided along. The weather was warm and balmy, with five Black Vultures and several Turkey Vultures soaring in a big, open, soft-blue sky.

You can go along at a pretty brisk pace on the Segway – or slow it down so that you’re barely moving forward, or even come to a complete stop and still stay balanced, though I’m not yet confident enough to use my binoculars quickly or easily without getting off. I should mention, also, that I didn’t have a helmet and was riding in a pretty safe area with little traffic – but it’s certainly better to wear one.

Along the Old Field just outside our subdivision, I stepped off the Segway and walked for a while. White-throated Sparrows called from the tangle of dead weeds in the field, and one or two whistled a broken fragment of song. Two Red-tailed Hawks circled very low overhead, slowly making their way higher. One was a juvenile, with a finely-barred tail and a dark-streaked band across the breast. The other was mature, with a red-orange tail that glowed when it turned and caught the sunlight. Just watching the two of them gradually circle and climb, lit from above and suffused in a clear, almost golden light, was enough to make the day.

Back on the Segway and headed back home, I passed a flock of at least 100 Red-winged Blackbirds perched in the limbs of trees in several yards, and stopped to look for Rusty Blackbirds among them, but found only a few Common Grackles. I’m hoping the flock of Rusties we saw regularly the last couple of years will return again this season.

Several Bluebirds and Chipping Sparrows flew up from the grass in one yard as I glided quietly past, and I heard the calls of a Pileated Woodpecker, a Northern Flicker, Golden-crowned Kinglets and a few Robins. All in all, there was nothing remarkable to report, but the Segway gave me the welcome freedom to go a good bit further than usual lately, especially up and down the steep hills I’m not supposed to walk right now. And it was lots of fun!

This Segway model wasn’t meant for off-road use, so I had to stick to the roads, but there are models designed for trails and uneven terrain that are even better for birding. Bill Thompson has a good posting on his Bill of the Birds blog that describes using a Segway for birding through the woods and fields of a farm in southeastern Ohio and includes several photos.

A Pileated Woodpecker on Thanksgiving Day

noreply@blogger.com (Sigrid Sanders) — Fri, 28 Nov 2008 01:37:00 +0000

The dead pines clustered in one section of the woods behind our house continue to attract woodpeckers, including Downy, Hairy, Red-bellied – and early this afternoon a Pileated Woodpecker that spent more than an hour working on one trunk after another. I heard its traveling call as it moved through the trees down near the creek, and about 15 minutes later, heard the sound of loud whacks nearby, and found it about three-quarters of the way up the trunk of one of the larger dead trees. It was a male, with a full red crest and thin red moustache stripe punctuating the white and black stripes on its face.

He worked hard and steadily, turning his head on the snake-like neck to chop at the bark sideways, and using his bill to flick off huge slabs that went flying. Then he struck the bared bark more directly and occasionally seemed to find something to eat. I couldn’t see well enough to see the barbed tongue coming out to lick up the ants or grubs he was probably finding. He made his way up the trunk, staying longer in some spots than in others, and leaving rectangular patches stripped of bark behind him. As he hitched his way up, his big gray claws made scratching sounds. He stayed remarkably focused on the task, not often looking around, but turning his head to flip off chunks of bark and then pounding straight into the cleared spots.

It was a clear, colorful day, warm in the sunshine, cool in the shade, with a soft blue sky and faint breezes. Brown-headed Nuthatches, Chickadees and Titmice carried on a lively chatter in the green pines and hardwoods, and Yellow-rumped Warblers flitted from place to place. Two or three Carolina Wrens sang and fussed somewhere nearby, and one Ruby-crowned Kinglet made its dry, staccato call as it moved through a dogwood and the dry, red-brown leaves of an oak.

After several minutes, the Pileated Woodpecker hopped to another dead pine close by, spreading its wings enough to show dramatic flashes of white. From there, he moved to another tree fairly soon, then to another and another, each time trying out several spots on the trunk, fiercely clearing off patches of bark, but apparently not finding much of interest, and moving on. Finally, he found a spot about midway up another tree that seemed to his liking, and stayed there working for a good while. In this tree, he was often in perfect profile against the blue sky, showing off the broad black back and tail, the large head and powerful bill, the long ribbon of white on the black neck, and the pure, clear scarlet of his crest.

Pileated Woodpeckers are considerably less common here than they were only a few years ago, so I’m particularly happy when I get the chance to watch one for a while like this. This one was still working in the dead pines when I finally had to go back inside – one thing among many to be thankful for on a beautiful, peaceful Thanksgiving Day.

Sharp-shinned Hawk at Sundown

noreply@blogger.com (Sigrid Sanders) — Sat, 22 Nov 2008 23:07:00 +0000

The sun was just above the western horizon when we went out for a short walk late this afternoon. It was cold and clear, with not a cloud in the fading blue sky, only the short marks of several jet trails lit by the sun. Most birds were quiet, except for the sibilant calls of White-throated Sparrows. One Phoebe perched in the top of an oak, and two Mourning Doves huddled on lower limbs of smaller trees. A large, loose flock of Robins flew over us heading southwest, and a smaller flock of Blackbirds flew over toward the south.

Toward the end of our walk, a small hawk appeared from behind a line of trees to the north and flew over us, disappearing into the woods beyond our house – a Sharp-shinned Hawk. I hadn’t taken my binoculars with me – it never fails! – but the hawk was low enough to see well, and its compact shape and crisp way of flying were so distinctive that it was unmistakable. We could clearly see the long tail with its pattern of bars, and the neat square tip. It flapped several quick times as it came over the trees, glided over us with wings outspread, then flapped again and glided as it disappeared from view.

A Good Year for Golden-crowned Kinglets

noreply@blogger.com (Sigrid Sanders) — Fri, 21 Nov 2008 02:21:00 +0000

Late this morning, two Golden-crowned Kinglets foraged in the pines and oaks around our house, close enough for me to watch them for several minutes. Tiny birds with a round shape and faces vividly striped in black and white, and a yellow-gold crown on the top of the head, they look like little animated ornaments moving through the trees – and make high-pitched, wintery music with their ti-ti-ti calls and chatter.

Because they’re so small and move so quickly and constantly – and because there are years when we don’t see many of them at all – I think of them as somewhat elusive. They breed in forests of spruce and other conifers in more northern parts of North America, and migrate here for the winter, when sometimes we see a good many of them, and other years few. This seems to be a good year for them here, and I’m discovering that they’re not at all shy.

These two moved over the branches, quickly picking up something like tiny insects or spiders from clusters of pine needles or dry brown and green leaves still on the oaks, turning sideways and upside down, and once or twice darting up to capture an insect in the air. The day was fairly warm – sunny, breezy and in the lower 60s – but we’ve had several freezing nights this week, and most of the foliage, except for the pines and other evergreens, is withered and faded. So the Kinglets bring a welcome splash of color.

Late this afternoon I was standing on the front porch when I heard them in the dry, speckled leaves of a water oak overhead. Then I noticed one making its way through the branches of a Savannah holly not more than five feet away from me. It hopped all the way out to the very end of a branch near me and paused there, as if checking me out, turning its head sharply back and forth, then it flitted down and joined a Titmouse and a Chickadee on the rim of a birdbath, which both seemed as surprised as I was to see it.

Even though the Kinglet only paused there for one or two seconds at most, the three birds together made a priceless picture – both the Titmouse and Chickadee, looking huge next to the Kinglet, turned to look at it as if to say, “What do you think you’re doing here?” And though neither of them made a move toward the smaller bird, the Kinglet quickly seemed to think better of it and flew back up to a branch of the oak.

Cedar Waxwings, Kinglets and a Cooper’s Hawk

noreply@blogger.com (Sigrid Sanders) — Sat, 15 Nov 2008 06:29:00 +0000

On a wet gray day that looked like a watercolor painting, with the browns, reds and yellows of the foliage blurring in a light rain that continued to fall through the morning, birds around here were very active. Highlights included an abundance of Yellow-rumped Warblers, our first-of-the-season Cedar Waxwings, two Ruby-crowned Kinglets, one with its red crest dramatically fluffed up, two Golden-crowned Kinglets feeding in the low branches of a thicket, at least three dozen Chipping Sparrows, and a solitary, low-flying Cooper’s Hawk.

When I first stepped outside this morning, it almost seemed to be raining Yellow-rumped Warblers, because the small, gray-streaked birds with yellow rumps were everywhere – in the wax myrtles, hollies, oaks, and all the trees and shrubs around the yard. Thick layers of wet brown leaves covered the grass and walkways and spattered the roof and shrubs, making everything look speckled and fragmented, as if the world itself were breaking up into pieces. Raindrops tapped on the leaves still on the trees, and Yellow-rumped Warblers shivered them here and there.

A Phoebe hunted from the bare branches of river birches. Four or five different Carolina Wrens sang, burbled, fussed, and trilled. White-throated Sparrows called tseet! A bright red Cardinal stood out like a Christmas ornament on the dull green of a hedge. A streaked Brown Thrasher made its way toward the top branches of a wax myrtle but stopped while it was still well-screened.

Two Ruby-crowned Kinglets moved, one after the other, through the water oak branches that hang over our front porch, coming very close to where I was standing as they picked insects from the undersides of leaves. A small patch of red was visible on both of their crowns, and as I watched, they began to chatter aggressively, and one of them fluffed up its crest into an agitated spray of ruby-red.

By mid-afternoon, the rain had passed, but the sky remained gray and featureless. As I walked a short way down the street, Chipping Sparrows flew up from the grass like sparks from a fire, shooting off in several different directions and flashing silvery gray, landing in the branches of small trees and bushes. A close-up view of one sitting on the branch of a pine showed a placid-looking sparrow of vivid brown, gray and white coloring – brown-streaked back and bright cinnamon crown – that sat calmly gazing around, showing nothing of the nervous pizzazz of the group’s scattering flight whenever they’re startled up from the ground.

In a spot where there’s a thicket of young trees, grasses and shrubs on one side of the road and a yard on the other, a collection of small birds perched together in the bare limbs of a pecan tree – five Bluebirds, a Downy Woodpecker, two Brown-headed Nuthatches, three Chipping Sparrows, a Phoebe and a pair of House Finches.

While I was looking at this gathering, I heard the calls of Cedar Waxwings – very high, needle-thin whistles of several birds. At first I couldn’t find them, and walked on down the street, but a few minutes later, on my way back, I heard them again and this time they flew overhead – a flock of about 30 Waxwings flying in tight formation together, turning abruptly in one direction and then another, as if constantly changing their minds, then just as abruptly showering down like falling leaves into the top of a water oak where they stayed for several minutes before flying again.

Meanwhile, two Golden-crowned Kinglets foraged in the thickets, both of them coming out fully into the open in a scrawny bare tree for a few seconds. Little gray birds with bright-white wing bars and short tails, they moved so quickly they weren’t easy to see well even though they were very close, turning sideways and upside down, darting from spot to spot and making quick stabs at insects on leaves. White and black stripes bordered their yellow crowns, with a thin, crisp black streak through the eye, and they carried on a string of high-pitched chattering, only once or twice giving a clear, familiar ti-ti-ti call.

Just as I turned around to walk back toward our house, a large bird flew toward me almost at eye level, in the gray light showing only a blurry dark gray coloring and a slender shape, but with shoulders and wings that looked surprisingly muscular – a Cooper’s Hawk. It rose up enough to fly over me and across a yard, and disappeared into the trees beyond with a flash of what appears to be a white rump, which Cooper’s Hawks often show, though none of my field guides note this and it’s hard to find references to it. It was here and gone too quickly to see any details, and the main impression that remained with me was of how strong and sturdy it looked at close range.

The Cedar Waxwings had broken up into two or three smaller groups and flew from tree to tree, not settling anywhere for long, until finally, as I came to the edge of our yard, several of them settled in one of our flame-colored red maples, still dense with leaves. Here I was able to get a very good, close-up look and be reminded of their satiny gray-brown backs, and the thin white line around the black mask over the eyes – and the glossy tip of the tail that looks as if it’s been dipped in yellow wax. Within a minute or two, they tucked themselves deep into the foliage of the maples and disappeared – after that, I would never have known they were there.

Hawks and Vultures on a Windy Day

noreply@blogger.com (Sigrid Sanders) — Sun, 09 Nov 2008 06:41:00 +0000

Late this morning – another beautiful, sunny, colorful fall day – a Red-tailed Hawk, a Black Vulture and a Turkey Vulture all soared high in a big, deep-blue sky with not a cloud in sight. Both Vultures flew fast, in a way that looked sweeping, sailing and exuberant, as if they loved the speed of the wind, like daredevil skiers. The Black Vulture, its white wing-tips flashing when they caught the sun, and its wings held out flat and steady, flew higher and more aggressively, and soon was little more than a speck in the blue. The Turkey Vulture tilted crazily and flew in wide circles, sliding down the wind in a way that almost looked out of control at times, though I’m sure it was not. The Hawk flew more deliberately, looking more powerful and more in control – a master of the wind, rather than abandoning itself to the wind so freely as the Vultures seem to do.

At one point as I watched, the Red-tailed Hawk circled around and turned into the wind and hung in the air, almost motionless, as if suspended, moving only its wings and tail slightly. Then it turned and sailed away downwind. In a minute or two, it reappeared and did this again, hanging suspended almost directly above me for several seconds. It was impressive to watch, and I almost could not believe the way it seemed to hold itself so still in the sky. Later, I found this passage in Hawks in Flight (1988), by Pete Dunne, David Sibley and Clay Sutton: “Only the Red-tailed and Ferruginous hawks are capable of kiting – holding themselves immobile into the wind on set wings like a kite tugging against a string. Any bird that loses its forward momentum and holds fast over a spot east of Missouri may with virtual certainty be identified as a Red-tailed Hawk.”

Falling Leaves and a Yellow-rumped Warbler – First of the Season

noreply@blogger.com (Sigrid Sanders) — Sat, 08 Nov 2008 01:01:00 +0000

This afternoon, under a warm, sunny blue sky with small white clouds, showers of leaves blew down and swirled around in the wind, making the day look and feel even more like Fall. Many were coming from pecan trees and water oaks, and our three river birches are now completely bare – just today they suddenly let go of all the rest of their leaves. Our two sturdy young red maples, though, which always turn later than the other maples on our street, are still thick with dark green leaves fast turning rose-red.

Around 3:00, I took a break from work and looked out through a window to the front yard and there, only inches away, perched in the branches of a Savannah holly, was a Yellow-rumped Warbler. It was the first one I’ve seen this season, a rather drab, grayish, sort of streaked little bird with pale yellow under its wings and a bright yellow rump. If this year is like others, we’ll soon be seeing many of them just about everywhere around the yard and throughout the neighborhood, and their dry check! calls will be a familiar and welcome sound again.

Sunrise Songs – White-throated Sparrow, Ruby-crowned Kinglet, Phoebe and Carolina Wren

noreply@blogger.com (Sigrid Sanders) — Thu, 06 Nov 2008 21:34:00 +0000

The sunny song of a Carolina Wren just outside our window woke me this morning when the day was barely light, and by 6:45 I was standing on the front porch watching as the trees across the road and up and down the street began to glow orange and gold and red. The foliage here is just about at the peak of fall color, with a chaotic mixture of green, brown, scarlet, rose, wine, coral, copper and yellow and more, speckled and splotched and somehow all blending together into an overall impression of mellow orange.

The sky was perfectly clear gray-blue, the air crisp and cool, and the noise of morning trucks and cars on Highway 441 more than a mile away was very loud, much louder than usual, but for some reason it didn’t seem to spoil the peaceful early morning feeling around the yard and the woods.

A Carolina Wren sang again from the edge of the woods, and White-throated Sparrows called tseet from shrubs and bushes. A Ruby-crowned Kinglet stuttered as it traveled through the low branches. Cardinals peeped. Then I was surprised to hear the exuberant song of a Ruby-crowned Kinglet, a quick, high cascade of whistled notes – I’m not sure I’ve ever heard one sing at this time of year before, though maybe it’s not uncommon. It’s a familiar song we often hear in the spring before they leave for the summer.

Bluebirds called from somewhere down the street, Crows cawed as they flew over, Robins also flew over in small groups and two or three squeaked in the trees nearby. Two Mockingbirds screeched out their harsh morning calls, Goldfinches called potato-chip, and a Yellow-bellied Sapsucker mewed. Then a White-throated Sparrow sang – the most beautiful song of the morning, sweet and plaintive, and so nice to hear again after it’s been gone for several months, a reminder that fall and even winter months don’t necessarily mean the absence of birdsong here.

Two Phoebes called tsup, and another Carolina Wren sang chura-REEEchender-REEEchender-REEchendre-churrrr, one of a wide variety of songs, calls and fussing sounds the wrens liven up the days with.

Three Bluebirds flew over, making soft burbling calls and glowing rose in the sunlight. I think the sun was surely up by now, though I couldn’t see it through the trees, and could only see a flood of red-orange along the eastern horizon. I heard the rattle of a distant Red-bellied Woodpecker, two Phoebes singing back and forth, two more White-throated Sparrows singing, and a Towhee calling To-whee from way down the street.

Chickadees and Titmice arrived in the trees around the feeders around 7:15, fussing and chattering, and two Mourning Doves flew in a nervous flutter to the ground below the feeders. Then I heard the high ti-ti-ti calls of Golden-crowned Kinglets in the leaves of the water oaks overhead, and the cry of a Red-shouldered Hawk in the east, out of sight beyond the line of trees, just before I went inside for breakfast.

Red-tailed Hawk and Crows

noreply@blogger.com (Sigrid Sanders) — Sat, 01 Nov 2008 03:22:00 +0000

October came to a quiet end today with a pleasantly warm, sunny day, a clear blue sky and autumn sunlight filtering through a mixture of green, yellow, orange, and wine-red leaves. Every day there are a few more patchy clusters of orange-brown leaves in the white oaks. The sweet gums have all turned burgundy or dirty gold, the dogwoods dusty red, the water oaks speckled in dull green and brown. The leaves in the pecans are mostly yellowish, thin, curling, and falling. It’s been an abundant year for acorns, especially in the white oaks. All day and night huge, heavy acorns still plonk down noisily onto the deck and the balcony right outside our bedroom windows.

Early this afternoon, crickets and grasshoppers chirped loudly and a few sulphur butterflies drifted through open, sunny spots. Threads of spider silk hung in the air and caught in the leaves of the trees. One Red-bellied Woodpecker and one Downy worked on excavating holes in the dead and dying pines. Some of these trees already are riddled with holes, and today the Downy fussed aggressively at the much larger Red-bellied Woodpecker when it came too close to one it was working on, in what was left of a skinny, skeletal dead trunk of a pine that looked like it was more holes than tree.

Eight Turkey Vultures sailed over, traveling together, from northeast to southwest. A Phoebe hunted from very low branches near the ground on the edge of the woods. Then a Red-tailed Hawk flew over the treetops with three Crows noisily harassing it. The Hawk was silent, wings outstretched, looking perhaps more serene than it felt, circling and climbing as the Crows flapped and cawed and darted and snapped all around it.

About thirty minutes later, the hawk was sitting in a pecan tree by the road as I walked out the front door. The Crows must have given up or lost it. It spread its wings and lifted into the air, and its shadow passed over me as it flew back over the house. I walked out into a clear spot and watched it circle several times, at first quite low, as it gradually climbed higher in the cloudless, deep blue sky. Again, it flew silently, and the way the sunlight filtered through its broad, outstretched wings made it look almost angelic in a powerful way, lit from within by a strength and grace beyond my understanding. Its underside was pale with one low dark band of streaks across the breast, a brown-hooded head, dark shoulders and wing-tips, and muted red-orange tail. The fine details of patterns in its wings and breast were elusive, like subtle gray lines in shifting white sand. It never flapped its wings, but held them out almost flat, tilting the tail and wingtips only, and turning its head from side to side. At one point, while it was still pretty low, it crossed paths with a Turkey Vulture also circling upwards, in the opposite direction. A few minutes later, when it was very high, it screamed, just once.

White-throated Sparrows Return

noreply@blogger.com (Sigrid Sanders) — Tue, 21 Oct 2008 02:09:00 +0000

This afternoon – a sunny day with temperatures barely reaching around 70 – our first two White-throated Sparrows of the season appeared in the front yard. Their familiar tseet calls caught my attention as I was walking down the driveway, and sure enough, I found them in the shadows of the loropetalum and wax myrtles, where their neat white throats identified them quickly.

It’s nice to have them back, but I’m a little worried about whether they and other birds that need good low shrubby habitat will stay around this year. Last spring both we and our neighbors severely pruned a lot of wax myrtles, forsythia and other bushes – they had gotten pretty overgrown and needed a trim, but I had planned to plant many more shrubs this fall and haven’t been able to do it, so I’m now afraid that we won’t have as many ground-loving birds as we usually do in winter. The Hermit Thrush that usually comes for the winter, the Eastern Towhees, and Brown Thrashers, as well as the White-throated Sparrows – I can only hope there are still enough bushes around to provide them the cover and the food sources they need.

Also out front this afternoon were two male House Finches, both a rather subdued red color, visiting the feeders and the bird bath and trying – unsuccessfully – to chase away the Chickadees and Titmice. Golden-crowned Kinglets called as they traveled through the oaks and pecans, and one Turkey Vulture and two Black Vultures soared in a cloudless blue sky.

Northern Flicker, Hairy Woodpecker, and Still Some Warblers Passing Through

noreply@blogger.com (Sigrid Sanders) — Sun, 19 Oct 2008 06:20:00 +0000

Early mornings are much quieter now than a few weeks ago. Though nights have gotten a little cooler, crickets still sing, and a few late katydids, and the first bird songs or calls I heard this morning, well before first light – like most days this past week – were the harsh rasp of a Mockingbird, the bright, musical songs of four or five Carolina Wrens, and the sibilant song of a Phoebe.

This morning around 8:30, a small flock of about a dozen Blackbirds flew over. Then a Northern Flicker flew into the top of a tall dead pine, arriving with a hollow Quorrr call. It stayed for only a minute or two, long enough for me to admire its handsome profile, spotted breast and thick black crescent high on the breast, then flew away with another, softer Quorrr.*

Chickadees, Titmice, Downy Woodpeckers and Brown-headed Nuthatches come and go from the feeders all day long, while Cardinals and Mourning Doves usually forage on the ground below, sometimes joined by a Chipping Sparrow or two.

In one part of the woods behind our house several tall pines have turned red-brown and are dead or dying, and while I’m sorry to lose them – and wonder what that will mean for our nuthatches, pine warblers, golden-crowned kinglets and other pine-loving birds – right now they seem to be providing a bonanza for Hairy Woodpeckers, as well as for Red-bellied and Downy Woodpeckers. The calls of all three, and the sounds of them working on the trunks, are among the most characteristic parts of the soundscape outside right now, especially the chucking and rattling of the Red-bellied Woodpeckers and the emphatic peenk! of the Hairys.

This afternoon, I spent a pleasant, but frustrating hour or so watching warblers in the treetops, most of which I never managed to see well enough to identify. There were certainly one Tennessee and one Chestnut-sided Warbler, which may have been what they all were, but most of them moved so quickly through the foliage of the oaks, in and out of sunshine and shadow and often up near the tops of the trees, that I felt as I often do in the fall – reminded of how much I cannot see and do not know. Which is, on the whole, not a bad thing. Sometimes you see them, sometimes you don’t, but it’s a fine thing to know they are there, and even a finer thing that they remain elusive, wild, mysterious, and not easy to pin down and classify. Though it’s still frustrating!

*The species account in Birds of North America describes this call as a “whurdle” and says it is the Flicker’s “least-known and least-heard vocalization. Indeed, the mechanism of its production still needs to be established . . . . Whurdle is a soft sound that has been described as a ‘gurgling almost involuntary chur-r-r-r-r’ (Burns 1900) given on the wing.”

Wiebe, Karen L. and William S. Moore. 2008. Northern Flicker (Colaptes auratus), The Birds of North America Online (A. Poole, Ed). Ithaca: Cornell Lab of Ornitholothology.

Winter Arrivals – Golden-crowned Kinglet, Ruby-crowned Kinglet, Yellow-bellied Sapsucker

noreply@blogger.com (Sigrid Sanders) — Sun, 19 Oct 2008 03:21:00 +0000

They’re back. Thursday evening, October 16, I heard the distinct, high, thin ti-ti-ti calls of Golden-crowned Kinglets, the first winter resident birds to arrive here around our home this season. I heard them again on Friday, a gray and rainy day, but even though I could see them in the treetops now and then, in breaks in the rain, I couldn’t get a good look at even one. Today, again I could hear their calls in the trees all around, and finally was able to see one clearly in the pines – a tiny, quick-moving sliver of energy with bright white wing-bars, a black and white striped face and head, and a golden-yellow crown. At times it sounds as if there are dozens of them in the trees around our house, but that’s probably deceptive, and maybe some of them will be moving on to other locations for the winter, but I hope some will stay near.

Early this morning, when the sky was still cloudy and gray, and everything was soaked from yesterday’s good long rains, I heard a familiar burst of chatter from a Ruby-crowned Kinglet in a line of thick wax myrtles. Then, as I walked up the driveway for the paper, a Yellow-bellied Sapsucker’s mewing call was repeated several times in the woods across the street. Later in the afternoon, a juvenile Sapsucker, with no red showing on either head or throat, flew from trunk to trunk around the edge of the yard.

It seems to me it’s late for the arrival of the Sapsucker, at least, and even for the Kinglets, but I haven’t been able to be out as often or to take my usual walks through the neighborhood for the past few weeks, so what I’m seeing and hearing now are strictly the arrivals of winter residents around our own house and yard. It’s good to see them again. Welcome back!

Happy Hour

noreply@blogger.com (Sigrid Sanders) — Fri, 17 Oct 2008 05:52:00 +0000

As I was walking past a window overlooking the birdbath in our front yard this afternoon about 4:00, I saw two Bluebirds down in the water taking a bath. By the time I’d gotten my binoculars, they were gone, of course, but in less than a minute one of them, an unusually bright-colored female, came back and got right back down in the leaf-spotted water for a long, full, energetic dip. She stayed for several minutes, repeatedly fluttering her wings. Four or five other small birds tried to approach, but she discouraged them and wouldn’t give up her place. Although her head and back were a subdued blue-gray, parts of her wings and tail were bright blue, her breast and flanks were rich rusty-orange, and white eye-rings gave her a wide-eyed, fresh and eager look. I was especially happy to see her because Bluebirds have been conspicuously absent from our yard since late August.

After several small birds had tried and failed to join her or take her place, a big Red-bellied Woodpecker flew to the edge of the bath and stayed to take several sips of water, undeterred by her feints at him, then it hopped up and into the water, sending the Bluebird flying away in a splash. The Red-bellied Woodpecker then repeated the same performance, dipping down low in the water, ruffling his feathers and fluttering his wings over and over to soak his feathers all over.

He took his time for a leisurely wash, and it wasn’t until he flew up to a branch to shake off and preen that a Phoebe came and perched on the edge watchfully, for several delicate sips of water. When a Blue Jay swooped down with a noisy flourish for a drink, the Phoebe flew away, but as soon as the Blue Jay was gone, the Phoebe returned for several more sips. Then a squirrel hopped up and curled awkwardly over the edge for a long drink, and when it was gone, two Carolina Chickadees came together to drink, followed by two Brown-headed Nuthatches, which always cling to the trunk of the water oak beside the birdbath first, and then flit down to the edge to dip their bills into the water and tip their heads back to swallow.

Meanwhile, the Chickadees, Brown-headed Nuthatches, Tufted Titmice and a Downy Woodpecker were busy going from one feeder to another, and a pair of Cardinals fed on the ground and visited the other birdbath to drink. A Pine Warbler sang from the edge of the woods, about a half-dozen Chimney Swifts circled overhead, and a Northern Flicker called Kleer!

Happy Hour was about to come to a close when I saw a small bird foraging among the speckled and faded water oak leaves, and it turned out to be a female Bay-breasted Warbler. Several Bay-breasted Warblers have stayed around this week – and I’ve seen a number of other reports of them, so maybe it’s a good year for Bay-breasted Warblers – but all the others I’ve seen so far have been males. This one, with intensely green-yellow head, face and back, a very faint streak through the eye, and a pattern of muted streaks on the back, looked feminine and pretty. Her throat was white, her breast and flanks pale yellow, with soft streaks on the flanks and no hint of the reddish-brown coloring on the males. She had two bright white wing bars, with a white belly, and the typical sturdy Bay-breasted shape and way of moving.

I think I’ve seen more Bay-breasted Warblers this fall than ever before, and have enjoyed several really nice close-up looks at them, and feel as if I’m much more familiar with them now – instead of just catching brief, passing sightings.

Golden-winged Warbler, Black-throated Green, Bay-breasted and More – A Colorful Wave of Fall Migrants Passing Through

noreply@blogger.com (Sigrid Sanders) — Sat, 11 Oct 2008 03:02:00 +0000

When I first stepped outside this afternoon around 4:15, the trees around our house seemed quiet, with no hint of what was to come. The sky had recently cleared after a cloudy, gray morning and two days of rain, and it was warm, sunny and breezy. The woods still looked green, though many leaves had washed down in the rain. At first, I heard only the wind in the trees, a few Blue Jays, Titmice and Chickadees, and the rattle of a Red-bellied Woodpecker.

A Hairy Woodpecker announced its arrival among a stand of dead and dying pines and set to work. A Pine Warbler sang, and then I heard the call of a Summer Tanager somewhere nearby, but out of sight. Its soft, repeated pik-a-tuk was the first sign of what would turn out to be one of the most amazing hours of birding I’ve ever experienced.

Some movement in the branches of an oak turned out to be a Tennessee Warbler, giving occasional faint tssit calls. A small, quick-moving bird with a smooth, almost velvety olive back and wings, a white breast and belly, and a delicate, pale streak above its eye, it stayed in constant motion, mostly hidden among the foliage as it gleaned insects and spiders from under the leaves, often turning upside down, and occasionally emerging long enough for me to see it well – before it disappeared into the depths of a large dogwood tree.

As I turned away, a much larger, slender bird with a long tail flew into the top part of a tall young oak. It was mostly hidden among the leaves, but as it moved up higher, I could see a pale breast and a haughty profile with a large, curved bill – then it flew right into a branch in the white oak beside the deck where I was standing, and perched in full view – a Yellow-billed Cuckoo. It was silent, but gave me an unusually close-up view of its sleek shape, creamy white throat and breast, smooth brown back, and the dramatic underside of its long tail, black with big white spots. I could even see whiskers or bristles around the yellow bill, though I can find no reference to them in species accounts and descriptions.

Another small, compact bird in one of the oaks turned out to be a Chestnut-sided Warbler. With a greenish head and back, two yellowish wing bars, and a white eye ring, it was one of the easiest migrants to see, staying relatively low in the branches and often coming into full view as it darted from spot to spot. From that point on, the trees suddenly seemed to be filled with warblers and vireos, and for the next hour and a half or so, I couldn’t move fast enough to see them all: Yellow-throated Vireo, Blue-headed Vireo, and Bay-breasted, Yellow-throated, Magnolia, and Black-throated Green Warblers – and last, but most exciting for me, a vivid, close-up view of a Golden-winged Warbler. All were very active, many brightly colorful, and most were so intent on foraging that I was able to watch them for several minutes.

The Yellow-throated Warblers were perhaps the showiest of the group, frequently hawking insects from the ends of high branches in the oaks. Their heads were constantly turned up, showing off long necks, long thin bills, and flaming yellow throats, set off by ink-black markings around the face and eyes and down the sides. The Bay-breasted Warblers, in contrast, looked sturdy and rather stolid, moving much more deliberately through the branches to catch caterpillars, and then sitting quietly to eat each one. The ones I saw were males in handsome fall plumage, with greenish head and back, white wingbars, a yellowish face and subtle dark streak through the eye, a faint but distinctive pattern of streaks on the back, and a wash of reddish-brown on the flanks.

A Black-throated Green Warbler perched in the top of an oak as if posing, with its yellow face glowing in sunlight, and the black of its throat and upper breast bleeding down its sides in thick streaks. Caterpillars seemed to be the main attraction for both the Yellow-throated Vireo and Blue-headed Vireo, but also some flying insects. The Yellow-throated Vireo more often stayed screened in the foliage, and I only caught quick glances of its yellow throat, yellow spectacles, blue-gray wings with delicate bars, and white belly. The Blue-headed Vireo moved more often out into the open and stayed lower in the trees, moving from branch to branch, unmistakable with its slate-blue head and striking white spectacles.

Meanwhile, Magnolia Warblers fluttered like butterflies, flashing yellow rumps and white tail-bands, recognizable even from directly below, with their yellow breasts, and tails that are white underneath and tipped with a thick, dark charcoal band. There were so many birds that I felt as if I couldn’t move fast enough to see them all – but at the same time, it was hard to tear myself away from watching each one.

Just when I thought surely it couldn’t get any better, I saw a very brightly patterned bird curled around the leaves at the end of a low branch in a water oak. I’m sure my mouth fell open in disbelief as I noted each of the field marks – gray back, rich yellow-gold crown, white face, black mask and throat, and thick, gleaming gold bar on the wing – it was a Golden-winged Warbler, a life bird for me, and a songbird whose populations are in serious decline. It looked small and round and neat, a little ball of intense patterns of color, moving in an almost chickadee-like way as it probed and gleaned insects from the leaves, and it stayed in full view for several minutes.

Then suddenly, it was over. When the Golden-winged Warbler flew, I looked around, and watched two Yellow-throated Warblers hawking insects again. But when they disappeared, I could find no more. One minute they were there – the next, they were gone.

American Redstart – A Colorful Start to Fall Migration

noreply@blogger.com (Sigrid Sanders) — Wed, 10 Sep 2008 04:37:00 +0000

On a warm, cloudy, muggy morning, a lively female American Redstart brought a spark of color to the back deck, fanning her tail and flashing its bright yellow sides as she fluttered around the red blooms of geraniums, competing with two Tufted Titmice. She’s the first migrating warbler I’ve seen this season – though I haven’t been able to be out as often as usual lately, so I’ve almost certainly missed some earlier warblers passing through. Still, she looked like a pretty and promising opening flourish for the fall migration season.

Also this morning, I heard both the song and the calls of a Summer Tanager several times, a Pine Warbler singing as it made its way all around the edges of the woods, and several Carolina Wrens singing different songs back and forth to each other. An Eastern Wood Pewee continues to hunt from trees around the back yard and to give its soft, fall puh-WEE call. Three Brown-headed Nuthatches went from feeders to pine trees and back again, squeaking often. Two Phoebes called tsup, tsup, and a pair of Hairy Woodpeckers, a juvenile Red-bellied Woodpecker, and a pair of Downy Woodpeckers all worked steadily in several recently-dead or dying pines near the edge of our woods.

By afternoon, the sky had cleared, with only high, thin white clouds against the blue. Cicadas, grasshoppers and other insects sang loudly. Ruby-throated Hummingbirds, male, female and juveniles, chased each other around the feeder, every now and then managing to actually stop for some nectar. A few Chimney Swifts passed overhead. I heard the scream of a soaring Red-tailed Hawk, and the rattle of a Red-bellied Woodpecker, and watched as a female Summer Tanager perched on an oak branch to eat a big fat caterpillar.

Female Summer Tanager Feeding Juvenile

noreply@blogger.com (Sigrid Sanders) — Sat, 06 Sep 2008 21:50:00 +0000

This afternoon, in hot, sunny weather, with a soft blue sky, small white clouds and a welcome strong warm breeze, a female Summer Tanager spent an hour or more foraging in the oaks and pines at the edge of the woods in our back yard, and feeding a begging juvenile Summer Tanager. The mother Tanager hunted steadily and fed the juvenile often.

I first saw her as a flash of warm yellow in the branches of a white oak, then she flew into a pine and spent most of her time in the pines. All-over yellow, with olive-drab wings and a long, thick tanager’s bill, she wasn’t particularly striking in appearance, but as I watched her, I admired her skill in hunting. Sometimes she gleaned insects or spiders from leaves – I watched her eat one caterpillar – but most of the time she caught flying insects in the air. Some might have been bees or wasps, which Summer Tanagers particularly like. Certainly there are plenty of all kinds of flying insects around right now!

At one point, she made a swift turn in the air and caught a moth-like flying insect, and took it to a branch, where she shook it against the branch before eating it. Another time, she caught a large-winged insect in mid-air and carried it to a branch, where I could see that it was a praying mantis. She seemed to strip off the wings and to rub the mantis against the branch, and this time the juvenile flew up beside her, quivered its wings, begging, and she fed the mantis to it.

Meanwhile, I heard an unfamiliar call. A kind of a whimpering wee-ooor-whee, low and soft, and after a while discovered that the call was being made by the juvenile Summer Tanager. I could see it quivering its wings among the leaves as it made the call. I watched the female feed the juvenile several times – she was working hard. Most of the time I saw the juvenile only from the back. It appeared light olive-brown, with only a hint of yellow, and sort of mottled in color.

It was a great day to be out. Two Eastern Wood Pewees continue to call their fall puh-wee repeatedly and one often hunts from the branches of pines at the edge of the woods. A pair of Hairy Woodpeckers continue to work steadily on some newly-dead pines just inside the woods. A handsome juvenile Red-bellied Woodpecker, two mature Red-bellied Woodpeckers, and a pair of Downy Woodpeckers also worked on the pines. Ruby-throated Hummingbirds are at their most active, visiting the feeder constantly, checking out all the flowers around, and chasing each other all around the yard, zooming, chattering, making little clicking noises when they make contact, and occasionally managing to stop at the feeder for some nectar for a few quiet seconds.

Juvenile Cooper’s Hawk Calling

noreply@blogger.com (Sigrid Sanders) — Sat, 06 Sep 2008 02:09:00 +0000

This morning about 10:30, under a partly cloudy sky, a juvenile Cooper’s Hawk flew to a pine branch on the eastern edge of our yard. It sat there for three or four minutes, then flew across the edge of the woods very low and fast, weaving through the trees, and perched on a low branch just inside the woods where it was in full view, facing in my direction, for about five minutes. I could clearly see its fine, slender, compact shape, rich dark brown head and brown back, and dark brown streaks on a white breast. Its eyes were pale yellow, and it showed a large area of snowy-white under the tail. It turned its head often, looking around, and when it did, very faint streaking showed in the back of the neck.

The best part was that several times it called in a rich, mellow, very distinctive voice, sort of eeee-o. The calls were strong and clear, but were not at all screams. They had a smooth, mewing quality, surprisingly full and expressive – very different from the kek-kek-kek kind of calls I’ve heard from Cooper’s Hawks at other times. Each call was separate and given distinctly – not strung together or fast – but they were repeated several times.

The species accounts I found indicate that an eeeee-o call is given by juveniles begging for food. I didn’t see any adults – but one could easily have been somewhere in the woods nearby. The yellow eye is also mentioned in species accounts as typical of a young bird.

For most of the time as I watched it, the tail of the hawk was hidden by leaves, but finally it turned completely around on the branch so that I got a full back view, and could see the long tail, banded in gray and darker gray-brown, tipped in white and only very slightly rounded. Then the hawk leaned over from the branch and flew, staying close to the ground, across a small grassy clearing in a neighbor’s yard and into the woods again and out of sight.

The Cooper’s Hawk is a woodland raptor, roughly the size of a crow though very different in shape and appearance. Its rounded wings and long tail allow it to fly swiftly through trees in pursuit of smaller birds, rodents and other prey. It’s secretive and relatively seldom-seen, so I always feel lucky to see one – and to hear it call was especially impressive.

The Old Field in Late Summer – Blue Grosbeak Still Singing

noreply@blogger.com (Sigrid Sanders) — Tue, 26 Aug 2008 05:12:00 +0000

The song of a Blue Grosbeak, the mews of Gray Catbirds, and a Black Vulture sunning itself on a pole were highlights from a rather quiet late morning walk. It was cloudy, warm and humid, with very little bird activity. The Blue Grosbeak sang from a scraggly pecan tree on the edge of a vacant lot, across the road from the Old Field.

Big white and purple morning glories spill across the weeds in a roadside ditch now, and vines of tiny, deep red-orange morning glories twist through the ditch and up into thickets of ragweed, blackberries, kudzu, privet, poke weed, dead thistles, and grasses. Sleepy Orange and Cloudless Sulphur butterflies fly in and out of the weeds, purple stiff verbena blooms along the roadside, along with a few ragged dandelions, and there’s the too-sweet, grape-like scent of kudzu blooms in the air.

Mourning Doves and Mockingbirds sat on the wires this morning, the Mockingbirds quietly chasing each other in and out of the shrubs. Two Gray Catbirds mewed, but stayed hidden. Brown Thrashers called harsh thwacks. Chimney Swifts swooped overhead. Two Black Vultures perched on separate poles, one spreading its wings out and turning in the direction of the cloud-covered sun.

Eastern Wood-Pewee

noreply@blogger.com (Sigrid Sanders) — Tue, 26 Aug 2008 02:09:00 +0000

This morning began cloudy and warm, and with the song of an Eastern Wood-Pewee. I was sitting at the breakfast table, and when I heard it, went out onto the deck. It was in the branches of the big White Oak beside the deck, and I couldn’t see it, but it continued to sing. It sang its “fall song,” of just the puh-weee part, over and over, but once it added a sweet, descending wheee-oo.

This is the first time I’ve heard its song in several weeks. Although Eastern Wood-Pewees used to sing throughout the summer in our neighborhood, sitting in the branches of pecan trees over shady yards, their lazy, summery whistles are now uncommon, and I think this one is probably stopping by here as it begins to travel south for the winter. For the past year or two, we have had an Eastern Wood-Pewee visitor each spring and each fall, and usually they stay for a few days. So – I’m happy to hear its song.

An Osprey Flying Over

noreply@blogger.com (Sigrid Sanders) — Sun, 24 Aug 2008 03:15:00 +0000

This morning as I walked in light, showery rain, an Osprey sailed over me flying east to west, banking just long enough for me to see the pale body, dark markings on the long, slender wings, and the dark mask across the down-turned head. It seemed like an apparition in the gray, blurry light, especially because very few other birds were out, and the day was defined mostly by cool wind and dark clouds.

Blue-gray Gnatcatchers, Red-eyed Vireo and a Hummingbird Moth

noreply@blogger.com (Sigrid Sanders) — Sat, 23 Aug 2008 04:15:00 +0000

We came home to hot, sunny, humid weather early this week, but thanks to tropical storm Fay, now moving west across north Florida and already influencing our weather, today is cloudy, windy and a little cooler. Birds seem very quiet around the yard and in the neighborhood, though I still heard the calls of an Acadian Flycatcher in the woods on Tuesday. The Bluebird house is empty. Inside it, I found only the nest and one perfect aqua-blue egg that had never hatched. I’ve seen no sign of juveniles or parent Bluebirds since we returned, but hope maybe to see them soon. It’s amazing how much happens in one week. How much things can change, though I’ve been busy and haven’t yet had time to find out much about what’s different, or what’s happening now. Cicadas and grasshoppers still sing vigorously during the day, and it was especially nice to come back to the songs of Katydids at night – our consolation for the warm, humid southern summer nights.

Ruby-throated Hummingbirds are busy around the feeder, and all around the yard, chasing each other and checking out anything red or pink or orange. Earlier in the week when it was sunny, the butterfly bush out back and the yellow lantana around the mailbox were both full of butterflies – Tiger Swallowtail, Black Swallowtail, Red-spotted Purple, Gulf Fritillary, Cloudless Sulphur, Fiery Skipper, and two lovely, lacy American Painted Ladies. Late Monday afternoon, a Hummingbird Moth was feeding in the lantana – a fascinating, rather plump-bodied moth with a broad, brushy tail and clear, reddish wings that whirr as it visits the flowers, so that it looks almost more like a tiny bird than a moth, and even makes a whirring sound similar to a hummingbird. This is the first one we’ve noticed here in a couple of years. They feed on flowers during the daytime and in twilight.

On a late morning walk, I watched the sky for Kites, but saw no soaring birds at all, except for one Turkey Vulture and one Black Vulture, and heard almost no birds except for Blue Jays and Goldfinches. But at one spot where there’s a thicket of pines, oaks, privet and vines across the road from the edge of a woodland that leads down to a creek, several Blue-gray Gnatcatchers were calling and flitting here and there among the leaves, flashing their long, silvery, white-edged tails, and one Red-eyed Vireo was calling its complaining Nyanh! from somewhere hidden among the foliage. I stopped for several minutes to watch, as Chimney Swifts chattered and swept overhead, and two Carolina Wrens sang nearby.

Barred Owl on Deck

noreply@blogger.com (Sigrid Sanders) — Mon, 18 Aug 2008 20:28:00 +0000

While we were out of town, our four-year-old granddaughter, Tallulah, spotted a Barred Owl sitting on the rail of our back deck early Saturday evening. Her father, Darby, took this picture through the window screen. The Owl flew before he could get a photo from outside – but they saw it well enough to identify. It stayed nearby in trees on the edge of the woods for the rest of Saturday evening, where Darby, Tallulah and our daughter-in-law, Jenny, saw it in two or three different spots.

I’ve been watching for it ever since we got back. So far it hasn’t come back to the deck or the nearby trees, and we haven’t heard it calling. But I’m still hoping. And I’m proud of Tallulah’s sharp eyes and interest in birds! She was the one who saw it first, and she knew immediately it was an owl.

Indian Pipes

noreply@blogger.com (Sigrid Sanders) — Mon, 18 Aug 2008 05:59:00 +0000

The ghostly-white and pale pink stems pushed up through dark, damp soil and leaf litter on the roadside, among weeds, mushrooms, and the roots of trees. Waxy-white, tulip-shaped flowers on the top of each translucent stem bent over like bowed heads as they emerged from the dirt then, as they matured, straightened up and eventually opened their petals to reveal pink fruits in the center, shaped like tiny amphorae.

At first we thought these strange-looking formations were fungi, but then learned they were Indian Pipes – saprophytic flowering plants that contain no chlorophyll and get their nourishment through a fungal relationship associated with the roots of other plants, especially trees. They’re also sometimes known as Ghost Flowers or Corpse Plants.

We found several different clusters of Indian Pipes along the road that circles around Dublin Lake in New Hampshire. Some were just beginning to push their nodding, ghostly heads up through the soil; others were standing on taller stems, with flowers still drooping over. One cluster – shown in these photos – stood about 10 inches tall, with the flowers erect, and white or pale-pink petals open to reveal the pink fruits.