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Yard birds | |||||
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The appearance of a cardinal in a sunflower seed–strewn yard—along with goldfinches, mourning doves, and white throated sparrows—adds a conspicuous dash of color. It also got me thinking back two decades, when I relocated to Maine from Texas: cardinals were hardly common hereabouts back then. Neither were titmice or mockingbirds. Or turkey vultures. But I used to get a special kick out of the look on a Maine native's face when cardinal flew by. "What the hell was that?" they'd say (or words to that effect). Amusing to an ol' boy who grew up in a southern latitude, where redbirds reigned at backyard feeders everywhere. But all that's changed. And I can't help marveling at the early news that birds bring, news of changing climates and shifting human behaviors. If the planet's really warming up, if winters have gone easy, if wilderness dwindles from southerly places as northern hospitality increases—it's the feathered creatures quick to travel far that're first to bear the news. Bird migration patterns fascinate. I wonder if coal miners still employ canaries? The mystery bird called again today. It sounds so robin-like—and yet I know it couldn't be one. Chickadees, meantime, continue courting to the tune of "fee-bee," while warblers trickle through. At midday, I followed the progress of a warbler with yellow undersides (it was silent, and I couldn't confirm its identity) in the maple out back, pecking around in the flowers; and a pine (or similar-sounding) warbler moved about the trees atop the hill. Others seen or heard today: mourning dove, crow, robin, herring gull, osprey, double-crested cormorant (in flight), song sparrow, house finch, catbird, cowbird, starling. Chipmunk making its rounds. Tonight, the moon wore a small halo, as Jupiter set behind the hill. | |||||
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Bird Report is a discursive, intermittent record of what's outside my window in Rockport, Maine, USA (44°08'N latitude, 69°06'W longitude). —Brian Willson | |||||
Each spring brings subtle shifts, or not-so-subtle. You never saw a turkey vulture here twenty years ago; now they nest throughout the coastal hills.
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