Big and Little Ground Feeders

Not very much goes to waste in the natural world.  Many folks think buzzards are gross because they eat dead things on the road.  So do crows.  Eagles eat dead things too, usually on the beach or farther away from people.  This is a very efficient way to dispose of carrion.  It feeds a lot of birds and does a cleanup job at the same time.   One opinion about why buzzards (turkey vultures, really) have no feathers on their heads is because of the need for them to stick their heads into carcasses.  Those head feathers would be really smelly after awhile.  Who knows if this is the reason?  Ravens and crows do the same thing and they manage to clean themselves in some way.

Every day, under the feeders in my yard, I see ground feeders doing a cleanup job.  Red and black towhees, juncoes with their dark hoods, sparrows and thrushes can be seen searching through the grass for fallen seed.  Towhees have this great way of grasping with their feet then hopping backward to reveal whatever might be under that patch of turf.  Hermit thrushes are much more careful, skulking just at the edge of the short grass, ready to quickly disappear into the heathers if a human is spotted, even fifty feet away.  They are shy guys.  What I usually see is the cinnamon-colored tail just fading into the shadows as I enter the sideyard.   Fallen seed attracts bugs and slugs, and they get eaten too, of course.  The robins cruise through a few times every day to see what might be crawling around.   Sparrows are notorious ground feeders- one lucky day I had five different kind of sparrow feeding under the shore pine.   Some birders will 'seed' an area in order to attract sparrows.  There's a spot in NW Oregon that is well known where seed is tossed and sparrows watched.  I guess you could say that I do that too.

If you feed ground feeding birds, here are some ideas:   open areas are a good thing so that the neighborhood kitty can't sneak right up on the birds.  Tree cover is good, in order to shelter the birds from airborne predators like Coopers hawks.  These hawks are so fast and agile- they'll almost turn right angles at jet speed in  pursuit of a panicked sparrow.   It should be an area that you aren't overly concerned about from a landscaping point of view.  After awhile, especially in a wetter climate, bare spots will appear where the birds have been digging around.  We have several mallard hens (more ground feeders!) with almost grown youngsters that pick around under some of the feeders.  They actually rest on their bellies and have a nice long dig right in front of them, murmuring softly when the human relents and tosses more cracked corn for them.  Two are waddling up from the water as I type.

If you watch songbirds in your yard, you will notice that they 'stage' in a nearby tree or shrub, then fly out to exposed areas for food, then fly back to cover.  If you put a water feature in, it's better if it's up off the ground like a pedestal bird bath- more protected from ground predators.  

Just now the spotted towhee is scavenging, his brilliant brick red and deepest black feathers soaking up the sun, his ruby eye watching me.

Osprey voice

It's been warm, beautiful weather at the beach and outdoors is the place to be.   I was working in the garden this morning, listening to all the birds and watching a group of four fledged red-wing blackbirds frantically begging food from their parent.  Fluttering and cheeping like true baby birds, they were perfect targets on our grass for flying predators.  Luck is with them so far, they're all flittering around now, trying to learn the basics of aerodynamics over the water.   Among all the songs, a clear, loud, high-pitched "cheep-cheep-cheep" began directly above me.  It's a wonderfully innocent song produced by a big, powerful raptor: an osprey- a bird my logger/woodsman dad called a fish hawk.  These birds are awesome in the true sense of the word:  black and white, fierce face, powerful talons, graceful flight.  And they chirp.  One of those wonders of nature, I guess.  Many smaller, non-predatory birds have a much scarier call than the osprey.

This was one of a family of three.  They were riding a thermal, circling slowly on the warm air, getting some altitude over the lake.  Once ospreys obtain a good altitude, they hunt with their eyes till they see a fish, close to the surface, unaware of the havoc to quickly come into its life. Wings fold, head down, and blam!  they hit the water with a tremendous splash.  Soon the bird reappears, shaking rainbow beads of water from feathers, oaring with wings on the water, then getting airborne with his lunch in his talons.  If the fish is big and still struggling, there can be some interesting re-situating.  It seems like it's best to fly with the fish facing forward, not sideways.  So, in flight, the fish is efficiently repositioned to suit the osprey.  Rarely is a fish lost. 

The youngsters watch the adults and it may take many tries before they are as successful as the parents.  Not to anthropomorphize, but how frustrating it must be to see that juicy silver fish - right there - and then to dive and miss it.  Takes a lot of energy to dive and regain altitude, over and over. 

These birds are travelers too.  Osprey that have been radio tagged and/or banded in northern North America routinely show up in southern South America for the winter.  They loaf around in the sun but return to us to nest and breed.  It's a sure sign of spring when their chirping calls are again heard over the lake by the high school.  I don't know if many of those kids know how lucky they are to be able to walk out the door at the end of the school day and hear not only osprey calling, but gulls in the boat basin and migrant warblers in the wetland at the base of the hill.   I hope at least some of them look up (maybe quickly, so their cool friends don't notice) and grin. 

Baby bird lessons

It's that time of year when baby birds are everywhere, and many of them are not being all that smart.  They're still learning how to be safe.  Often I have visits from curious young birds when I'm refilling a bird bath or feeder.   They flitter up, whisper-like, and light on something quite near.  If I become motionless, they'll stay for a bit, and may begin to consider me part of their environment.  Much as I love being that close to birds, I don't think it's a good thing for them.  I want young birds to have a healthy respect for humans and to learn to keep a safe distance.  We're not all wonderful people, after all.  So I usually say 'Sorry, little one', and make an abrupt move, not at them, but adequate to cause them to flitter away in alarm.
A very young siskin actually collided with our bedroom window yesterday.  The curtains were still closed, so he must have just not been paying attention~ just like a kid.  I opened the slider and he was resting on his belly on the wood deck, eyes open, breathing, but clearly stunned.  These little ones are SO little and light that often they luck out and do not sustain a permanent injury, such as a broken wing, or worse, broken neck.  I picked up this weightless bit of warm life and gently moved each wing.  They seemed to be correctly folded, not drooping, no open wounds.  I oh-so-gently moved his head and he seemed to have tone in his neck: his head didn't just droop down.  The best thing to do with birds like this is to put them in a quiet, safe place for 20 or so minutes.  Don't try to feed or water them, they won't need it in the short time they'll be with you and it can be very traumatic for them.
  I put a paper towel in a small box, and put the open box in a warm, protected place on the deck where I could eyeball him every few minutes.   Birds, like people, can be stunned by a blow to the head.  They may just need time.  Luckily, this is what happened with this little guy.  After about 15 minutes, I moved to lift him out of the box and he quickly hopped to the side and perched.  I moved away and he stayed there briefly, then hopped farther out, then he wobbily but successfully flew to a nearby rhododendron.   I checked later and he was gone.  I hope he made it.  Our kitty is an inside cat and I saw no neighborhood predators around. You never know though.    I've read that only one in ten nestlings make it to their first birthday.  Pretty tough odds.  But that's why adult birds breed like crazy, often raising three broods in one compressed season.  How exhausting.

Again, I see the siskins chattering away in the holly tree in the front yard and I hope he's in there, telling his buddies of his great escape.

Flown the Coop

They're gone.  Five little swallows have entered the world.  I checked their roosting spot a few days ago and it was quiet and empty.   They had been out of the nest proper for a few days, perched in a sweet line where the mother swallow could efficiently feed them.  Note the whitish outline on the bill of the immature in the picture to the right.  Many nestlings have either a bright outline on the bill, or the gape (mouth) will be bright inside.  This provides a great target for a feeder in a hurry.  Parent can see the gaping mouths, brightly lit so to speak, from a distance, and feeds accordingly.  As the birds mature, the brightness is no longer needed, and it fades.
Anyway, these little ones fledged, probably to a telephone wire nearby.  The first few flights aren't stupendous, as they're using brand new, untested equipment.  Often they will return to the nesting site for a few nights.  I haven't ventured to the post office after dark to see if they're indeed there. 
It's a good feeling to look up and see swallows coursing the air for insects and think that maybe those babies are somewhere in the crowd. 

Whirlpool of swallows
Eddies slowly overhead
One blue feather falls

Post Office Swallows

We live in a very small community, and the post office is a place where we will usually see all of our neighbors at some point during the week.  There are new residents at the post office and most all the neighbors are interested.  An enterprising female barn swallow decided that her nest would be in the sheltered entry-way to the post office.  This is the south side, where a glass and wood entry protects postal-goers (and swallows) from the sometimes harsh southwestern winds and rain.  She cleverly opted for a protected area about ten feet off the ground, under the roof of the entry. Of course, her mate assisted in the construction. 
I'm not sure how many people pass by under that nest every day.  Probably close to one hundred.  I don't know how many are aware enough to notice a busy mother swallow passing very close over their heads, to and fro, bringing a seemingly endless supply of bugs to feed her five (five!) hungry youngsters.

But let's start at the beginning.  You may have noticed a barn swallow in your life, busily carrying mud daubs to a chosen nesting spot on your property.  Sometimes, the chosen places are just not meant to be.  Over a front door, for instance, where the droppings would surely become a problem.  Swallows are persistently optimistic though, and if discouraged from one spot, will quickly opt for another.
This male spent time wooing the female, flying graceful  arcs to impress her, then landing close by so that they could rub heads and necks and gently preen each other, all the while making soft, churring sounds of love.
That out of the way, this mother and father swallow brought mud from a nearby pathway, mixed with bits of grass, and constructed a sturdy nest above the entryway.  After mating, the female then laid and brooded, in this case, five white eggs with delicate brown spots.  She incubated her eggs from 17 to about 23 days.  This can be a risky time.  Vulnerable mother on eggs, not really out of reach of some who are too curious or wish them harm.  A long stick, or a kid hoisted up on a bicycle pedal: it wouldn't be hard to destroy the nest.  But the five eggs hatched, then the oblivious, noisy cheeping chicks began to beg.  Tiny black heads with large bills outlined in white, leaning over the nest, seeming to implore all who pass below for a hand out.  If anyone stops to admire, however, cautious silence ensues.  The chicks will stay in the nest for about 20 days before fledging.  The chicks are 'altricial', which means that they are helpless little scrotum-like blobs for several days.  Think of a chicken chick, which is 'precocial':  that chick is up and about from the time he leaves the shell. These are the two major ways birds greet the world.
Anyway.  There is nothing quiet about a barn swallow nest.  Chicks beg noisily and parents cheep loudly as they leave again and again on  forays.  As I stand and admire the chicks who now peer curiously over their ledge at all the coming and going, I realize that some folks just don't see them.  I point, say "Look, swallow babies!"  Some stop to admire, some just side-step around me, heads down.  Maybe the weight of worries and stress make it too hard to stop and admire wild things right in our midst.  I tend to think that stopping and admiring is the cure.
So far, so good.  They probably have another week till they fledge.  I'll keep you posted.