The Autumn Bird Crew

This mild Indian summer weather has been a gift.  Gold, red and orange leaves still flicker in the trees.   In the morning, deep mushroomy smells come from the woods and afternoons bring a rich, blackberry perfume. 

Even the moody clouds have provided an unusual Fall for us – no rain so far.

 The duck crew still loafs in the water off the yard each morning, waiting for the human to come out and toss corn.  As soon as I round the house where they can see me, a soft muttering conversation begins among them and then one by one, they burst from the water and land in the lower yard.  Some are so wild that the moment they land they take off again, rethinking their brash move.  Eventually they all arrive and dig in.

 I’ve begun to toss a handful of shelled sunflower seed onto our stone patio.   Juncos, hooded like tiny monks, towhees and two bossy Steller’s jays take turns with a very industrious Townsend’s chipmunk.   The chipmunk races over the stones, belly almost on the ground, Hoovering seed as fast as he can.  His cheek pouches look about to burst.   He’ll have an easy winter,  I think.  By the way, if you get a chance to look closely at a Steller’s jay, note the wonderful vertical blue eyebrows on the black face.  Quite stylish. 

The pugnacious Anna’s hummingbirds have relaxed a little since their competitors, the Rufous hummers, have headed south.  The male Anna’s sits on the feeder perch surveying his domain.  If he had a little comment bubble above his head it would say “Mine….all mine.” 

And the Peregrine falcons are back.  Look for sleek, dark hunters with a characteristic helmet band on the face.   We came upon one on the beach  who had just  taken down a crow and was beginning  his feast, hungrily pulling feathers away from skin.  He had neatly removed the crow’s head, which lay nearby.  He won’t leave very much behind, and whatever is left will be eaten by others: insects, other carrion eaters such as ravens, even other crows.  It’s the clean up crew and that‘s a good thing.

I’m taking in the seed feeder every night since the neighborhood bear managed to climb our holly tree, inch out on a branch that was too small and bring the entire thing down, bear and seed feeder included.  He then proceeded to bend the metal feeder into an S shape.  It was high enough that we needed a ladder to refill it.  Now it comes in at night.   When I carry it out in the early morning, chickadees sound their two-note alarm call and retreat farther into the shore pine.  I hang the feeder and as soon as I move away, the family of chestnut-backed chickadees and two red breasted nuthatches head for breakfast.  Nuthatches hunt insects on tree bark head-down, going from high to low, using their sharp bill to pry for food.  When they fly to the tube feeder, they land head-down on the mesh, take one seed and fly away.  Chickadees also take one seed and fly to another branch where they delicately hold the seed between their tiny feet while they eat it.

So even though it’s Fall and things seem quieter, there’s always something going on in the yard.   Just now the varied thrush, looking like an orange-black meadowlark, is skulking just at the edge of the heather.  His low, haunting whistle echoes through the shadowy woods.

It's that wonderful, turning-in time of year when there is a soft mist over the water, all the reeds turn golden and the winter birds are returning.  Those harvest moons, huge and pale gold, are sailing west over the ocean.  Magical.  There is something quite reassuring about the predictable, lovely changes of the seasons.  Life will throw us curve balls, but for me,  if the varied thrush returns and sings deep in the woods, all will be well.

Some Thoughts on the Federal Duck Stamp Program

On misty fall mornings in marshes and lakes across the country, the voices of geese and ducks can be heard calling and echoing as they pass above in ragged vees or from flocks gathered on still, mirrored water.   It’s a Norman Rockwell picture of autumn in America. 

There was a time when these ponds and ducks and geese were in real danger of disappearing.  Their numbers had become dangerously low and the potholes were being filled in to provide more arable land.   This was during the Great Depression and people were killing wildfowl and other animals simply to feed their families.  It was a hardscrabble time. 

Wildfowl conservation seemed like a frivolous thing to talk about in those dark days, but out of those days came the  Federal Duck Stamp Program.   The Duck Stamp Program was nicknamed the “little program that could”, and since its inception in 1934, has generated more than $750 million dollars.  Ninety-eight cents of each of those dollars has been used to help purchase or lease 5.3 million acres of waterfowl habitat in the U. S., much of which is now protected within the National Wildlife Refuge System.

So, what is a duck stamp and where do they come from?  The Program was started by President Roosevelt, and to this day, all hunters must buy a duck stamp every year in order to hunt wildfowl.  In order to make it interesting, the Federal Government provides a juried art event to choose the stamp every year, and it’s a very prestigious win for wildlife artists.  This year there were over 200 entries.  The artists are given a limited choice of wildfowl types to paint.  This year’s winner shows a male and female canvasback.   There is also a Junior Duck Stamp Contest and you see some of the incredible entries now at the Ocean Park Library.

Ducks Unlimited, a hunters’ organization, has been instrumental in supporting the Program. But, you say, hunters kill ducks, right?   Yes, but.   Here is a comparison of ways birds are lost.   

 Annual waterfowl hunts account for 15 million bird kills a year.

 Window crashes, cat kills, high tension wires, cars and communication towers account for over five times that many kills a year!  These stats were compiled by David Allen Sibley in 2003.  Sibley is a birder and conservationist.

Plus, when a piece of land is set aside by the Duck Stamp Program, not only the wildfowl are protected.  Frogs, newts, shorebirds, coyotes, bats, whatever other critters use that area are also protected from habitat loss.  

Hunter numbers across the U. S. are dwindling, and the environmental community has been slow to recognize the value of the Duck Stamp Program.   Birders don’t have to buy a stamp to go out in the field, and some argue that birding is ‘non-extractive’.   We don’t take home a brace of birds, but there is our vehicle impact, trail maintenance and so on.  

I say, buy a stamp if you care about the birds.  If you shoot them or watch them, we’re all in this together.  If we care about habitat and wildlife, the stamp is a good thing.  And a current stamp will get you free admission to any wildlife refuge open to the public.  (When they re-open, that is.)

You can purchase this small piece of art at your local post office, local refuge or online.  There is an excellent small book  about the Duck Stamp Program called  “The Wild Duck Chase”  by Martin J. Smith.  Our library system has it.

So the next time to look up to admire a noisy flock of geese or ducks, know that you can help to support them.