Birding is a little slower now than it was a couple weeks ago. Oh, there’re plenty of wild birds about—singing, calling, flitting around—but they’re less obvious, more secretive. They’ve got other thoughts on their mind.
In fact, I’m guessing that most of the resident species either have eggs to incubate, nestings to feed, or fledglings to bring to adulthood. But this morning I happened upon at least one couple of buntings with a nest in need of eggs—right in broad daylight.
Meanwhile, the grosbeak parents are still jamming regurgitated food rather roughly down the throats of their tiny new-hatched nestlings. (Guessing their wide beaks make it something of a challenge.) Gnatcatchers, scrub-jays, and magpies (at least) have fledglings to raise.
Busy times for all.
Grandeur Peak Area List Beginning at 8:45 a.m., I hiked a few hundred feet up a mountain.
On a mostly overcast morning, dog and I had a very nice hike. Coolish still (but this will change), and no others encountered on our trek up the switchback and around the hillsides.
MacGillivray’s Warbler.
The usual suspects, bird-wise—including two resident warblers singing dependably in their preferred locations: MacGillivray’s and black-throated gray. If birding scarcity increases value, warblers are precious here.
Maine’s wood-warblers got me birding in the first place exactly 40 years ago—I couldn’t resist their crazy spring music in the woodlands of northern New England. A couple dozen species pass through Maine during migration. Where I lived, maybe a dozen stick around.
Since I moved to the high desert last summer, I’ve encountered far fewer warbler species. Resident species in my patch number maybe a half-dozen. Still, the two I saw today were enough to whet my warbler whistle.
Later, this warm afternoon, as I worked at my front table, I saw a large, winged shadow pass across the lawn. Peeked out and spied a Red-tailed Hawk soaring in the warm air—and perhaps 1,000 feet above it, two or three paragliders.
Grandeur Peak Area List Beginning at 7:45 a.m., I hiked several hundred feet up a mountain.
Bird Report is an intermittent record of what's outside my window in Rockport, Maine, USA (44°08'N latitude, 69°06'W longitude), and vicinity. —Brian Willson
