An Unexpected and Welcome Visitor

   Most birders will say when asked, that their favorite bird is the last one seen.   That can be true, especially if you're on a trip seeing lots of new and unusual birds.  But I think my backyard crew is closest to my heart, and the wren family is closest to the top of the list.

During the recent heavy weather I scattered hulled sunflower seed on a stone bench near a window in order to see who came in for breakfast.  It's a perfect spot, situated near a big old alder tree where the birds can shelter.  A mixed flock would pour down from the alder into the shorter escallonia, take a look around, then move, one by one, to the potted maple and gingko trees that  overhang the stone bench.  Birds have to be cautious: you never know what bigger bird may have you in its sights for breakfast.

Visitors included the usual suspects: towhees, song sparrows, lots of juncoes, red-winged blackbirds.  Three Stellar's jays would sometimes noisily arrive like ill-mannered party guests and scatter everyone else.  Two flickers would occasionally  squat on the bench and peer curiously at the seed.  Because of the flat, hard surface of the stone and their longish bills, they would have to tilt their heads sideways to carefully glean a seed.

But then - an unexpected guest.  A Bewick's wren.  Short, finely striped tail tilted straight up, lovely light eyebrow  over a bright, bead eye.  His back brown as a nut, he was the picture of optimism on a windy and harsh day.  The wren preferred to glean seed where it had fallen into two big soil-filled pots next to the bench.  I was surprised because wrens are mainly insect eaters.  I can't recall seeing one at a feeder.  But times were hard, the wind was blowing, and many birds are opportunists.  

I used to live next door to a pair of Bewick's wrens who lived in the dense hedge in our side yard in Portland.  The male would sit atop the hedge and sing his lovely sparrow-like song and the female would poke her head out  to watch him, near their hidden nest.  Some of the best neighbors ever.  Later in the spring I would see their slightly scruffy brown-grey fledglings, but none ever came to one of my feeders that I know of.

By the way, this wren was 'discovered' by John James Audubon.  He named it after an English  friend who was a skilled wood engraver and bird lover.  The usual pronunciation is 'Buick' - like the car.

Now that the weather has softened at least for the moment, it's good to see the wren skulking in the dense shrubs near the house.  Later this spring, when I see little fluffs of new wrens lined up on a branch with a parent, I'll be happy  to think I made life a bit easier during the hard times.

Two Very Different Hummingbirds

It's 23 degrees at four o'clock this afternoon with a stiff east wind blowing.   Safe to say we're all freezing our tail feathers off.  What about those tiny, delicate looking hummingbirds we see zipping around our gardens?  Well  there are two very different hummingbirds that we may see. 

This time of year it's a safe bet that all the fair-weather-friend rufous hummingbirds are soaking up the sun along the Texas Gulf Coast or even farther away along the coast of Mexico.  They return in very early Spring and it's fun to read of their advance north on the on-line bird tracking  sites. In fact, a way too early rufous hummer has been spotted in northwestern Oregon this week.   Just in time for the deep freeze.  Sad to say, that little bird probably won't see summer, as they just aren't  cold weather survivors. 

The  cinnamon and green hummers you see in spring and summer are the rufous ones.  The males almost glow red in their mating finery. The throat, or gorget, is a dense fuchsia when it flashes in  the light.  

This time of year  we should be seeing only Anna's hummingbirds.  These little birds have greenish backs and what is called a "washed out grey" underbelly. I think it's kind of pretty: an oyster-shell grey.  But the great thing is that the males' heads are a full helmet of deep rose red, all the way down to the tops of the wings.  When the light catches that red, all the girl hummers swoon.  It is pretty remarkable.  And, they survive this kind of weather fairly routinely.

Anna's hummingbirds live year-round from southern B.C. to northern Mexico.  They stay on the west side of the Cascades for the most part, and  can be found on the lower mountain slopes as well as near the ocean. One way they  survive this killer weather by "going torpid" at night.  This means that they can lower their body temperature to almost the temperature of the surrounding air.  When that happens to a human, it's called death.  But hummers do this every cold night.  This causes their metabolism to run at about one-third its normal rate.  Because they need to continually stoke their super-fast metabolism, they would risk starvation trying to maintain it during especially cold times. 

On a cold night an Anna's will find shelter out of the wind, deep within a dense shrub or tree. I saw an Anna's one cold morning with a little cap of snow on his head.  I thought  for sure he was a goner.  But as the sun began to minimally warm the garden, he slowly opened his eyes, then shook his head till the snow was gone. He fluffed his feathers and zip, off he went in search of breakfast.

If you feed hummers during the winter they will love you if you switch out the icy feeder solution for gently warmed sugar water each morning.  But they will survive (or not) regardless of sugar water feeders.  They find lots of insects wintering in tree bark or just flying about.  The big danger comes with a silver thaw, when ice coats the branches and food  is locked in the deep freeze.

This winter I have two Anna's vying for space at the feeder.  They wait in the holly tree each morning, noisily challenging each other and then buzzing me in an effort to get me moving faster.  I look forward to seeing the slightly scruffy grey babies that they will bring to the feeder some warm March morning, when this weather is just a distant memory.