Category Archives: Songbirds

Smaller Than A Kinglet

Bushtits near a puddle (photo by Melissa McMasters via Wikimedia Commons)
Bushtits (photo by Melissa McMasters via Wikimedia Commons)

This tiny bird is the only member of its family (Aegithalidae) in the Americas.  Smaller than a warbler, the bushtit’s closest relatives live in Eurasia.

Bushtits (Psaltriparus minimus) are western birds that tend to stay put, though some move downslope for the winter.  At this time of year they flock like chickadees, flitting, chattering and hanging upside down to glean insects and spiders from the trees.

When I saw them in California my first thought was “brown chickadees.”  This closer look shows why.

Bushtit (photo by Alan Vernon via Wikimedia Commons)
Bushtit (photo by Alan Vernon via Wikimedia Commons)

In February the flocks break up into pairs and the couples spend four+ weeks weaving a foot-long tubular nest like the one shown below.  With a hooded entrance at the top, it is far larger than one bird needs but is big enough to hold the whole family and their friends on cold nights.

Bushtit nest (photo from Wikimedia Commons)
Bushtit nest (photo from Wikimedia Commons)

 

Listen for bushtits calling as they follow each other from tree to tree. (recording of American Bushtit by Kristie Nelson, xeno-canto XC363349)

So tiny!  They are smaller than kinglets.

 

 

(photos from Wikimedia Commons; click on the images to see the originals. Audio from Xeno-Canto XC363349 by Kristie Nelson)

Sparrow With a Golden Crown

Golden-crowned sparrow in Richmond, CA, Nov 2016 (photo by Becky Matsubara via Wikimedia Commons)
Golden-crowned sparrow in Richmond, CA, Nov 2016 (photo by Becky Matsubara via Wikimedia Commons)

Female house sparrow?  Nope.  When you see her in real life, this bird is way too large to be a house sparrow.  This is a golden-crowned sparrow (Zonotrichia atricapilla) photographed in November in California.

Golden-crowned sparrows breed from Alaska to British Columbia and spend the winter west of the Cascades and Sierra Nevadas from southern British Columbia to Baja, Mexico.  At the Snow Goose Festival my location finally matched their range.

Sometimes golden-crowned sparrows hang out with their close relatives, white-crowned sparrows (Zonotrichia leucophrys) shown below.  I used to think white-crowned sparrows were large but golden-crowned are larger.

White-crowned Sparrow (photo by Chuck Tague)
White-crowned Sparrow in the eastern U.S. (photo by Chuck Tague)

Their golden crowns can be subtle at this time of year but the color intensifies as the breeding season approaches.  In spring the male’s head has a bright yellow patch surrounded by black as shown in the Crossley ID Guide below.

Golden-crowned sparrow from Crossley ID Guide via Wikimedia Commons
Golden-crowned sparrow from Crossley ID Guide via Wikimedia Commons

I saw these birds for the first time at Bidwell Park in Chico, California (“Life Birds”).  Even the boring ones were wearing faint golden crowns.

 

(golden-crowned photos from Wikimedia Commons; click on the images to see the originals. White-crowned sparrow by Chuck Tague)

Reaching For A Drink

Wrentit leaning for a drink (photo by Gregory "Slobirdr" Smith via Flickr, Creative Common license)
Wrentit leaning for a drink (photo by Gregory “Slobirdr” Smith via Flickr, Creative Common license)

Here’s a California bird that lives year round in coastal scrub and chaparral.

About the size of a black-capped chickadee, the wrentit (Chamaea fasciata) usually skulks in dense thickets so he’s hard to see.  But this one came out for a drink and Gregory “Slobirdr” Smith captured his acrobatic stretch.

Male and female wrentits sing all year long.  If you hear this song you might find the bird.  (recorded by Michael Lester Xeno-canto #XC312612).

 

p.s.  Wrentits are uncommon to rare in California’s Central Valley.  You have to go up-slope to find them near Chico.

(photo by Gregory “Slobirdr” Smith via Flickr, Creative Commons license)

Only In California

Yellow-billed magpie, San Benito County, CA (photo by J. Maughn via Flickr, Creative Commons license)
Yellow-billed magpie, San Benito County, CA (photo by J. Maughn via Flickr, Creative Commons license)

There are three species of magpies on earth but this one, the yellow-billed magpie (Pica nutalli), lives only in the open oak savannah of central and southern California.

Even though barn owls (Tyto alba) occur worldwide this video could only happen there.

Like all magpies the birds are brave and relentless.  One of them pulls the owl’s wing!

What are the three Pica species? Eurasian (Pica pica) in Europe and Asia, black-billed (Pica hudsonia) in western North America, and yellow-billed (Pica nutalli) only in California.

 

(photo by J. Maughn on Flickr, Creative Commons license; click on the image to see the original. Video by Charles Sullivan on YouTube)

p.s.  Yellow-billed magpies are hard to find near Chico, California ever since West Nile Virus came through.  I was afraid I’d never see one but J. Maughn (his photo is at top) suggested looking at eBird for recent sightings.  Ta dah!  I went to a place near Big Chico Creek where magpies had been seen this month and found a pair building a nest.  Life Bird!

 

First Bird of 2018

Blue jay in winter (photo by Cris Hamilton)
Blue jay in winter (photo by Cris Hamilton)

If you keep a list of the birds you see each year, yesterday gave you a First Bird of 2018.

Mine was a blue jay.

He received this honor because I decided not to count the birds I heard but did not see.  This ruled out the crows flying over my house before dawn and the house sparrows cheeping in my neighbor’s evergreen. I didn’t even look for them.

Perhaps this was cheating. If I’d heard an owl I would have counted it.  However, I don’t have to stretch the rules to pick a First Best Bird of 2018.

Yesterday afternoon I joined the Botanical Society of Western PA’s annual New Year’s Day Hike.  Twelve of us braved the 10o F weather at Irwin Road in North Park, led by Richard Nugent.  (He’s the tall man in the brown coat.  I’m in the photo, too, but which one?)

Botanical Society New Years Day Hike, 2018 (photo by June Bernard)
Botanical Society New Years Day Hike, 2018 (photo by June Bernard)

We walked to the old homestead to see the Ozark witch hazel that we visit every year.   At the top of the hill was a small flock of birds eating wild grapes, multiflora rose hips and oriental bittersweet.  Among them was my First Best Bird of 2018 — a hermit thrush.

Hermit thrush (photo by Chuck Tague)
Hermit thrush (photo by Chuck Tague)

What was your First Bird of 2018?  Do you have a Best one?

(photo credits: blue jay by Cris Hamilton, hike photo from June Bernard, hermit thrush by Chuck Tague)

Tell Me How They Do This

Flock of common starlings in a thick bush, Germany (photo from Wikimedia Commons)
Flock of common starlings in a thick bush, Germany (photo from Wikimedia Commons)

In fall and winter you’ve probably heard large flocks of European starlings (Sturnus vulgaris) having loud conversations in thick trees or bushes.  Then suddenly the flock falls silent and takes off.

Here’s a good audio example:  Listen for 53 seconds to a lot of noisy chatter. Then the birds fall silent and you hear them take off in a whoosh.  (If you don’t want to wait 53 seconds, click in the middle of the audio bar after it starts rolling.)

What signal do starlings use to trigger their escape?  Is it an audio cue?  Or is it visual?

Please tell me how they do this.

 

p.s.  Did you know that female starlings sing, especially in the fall?

(Credits: Photo from Wikimedia Commons; click on the image to see the original.
Audio: Common Starling (Sturnus vulgaris), XC281737 from xeno-canto by Peter Boesman
)

Danger From The Air!

European starling flock (photo by Pat Gaines via Flickr)
European starling flock (photo by Pat Gaines via Flickr)

I’m sure you’ve seen starlings fly away to avoid a predator.  Have you heard their warning signal?

Over the years I’ve noticed that European starlings (Sturnus vulgaris) make a spitting sound just before they flee.  Sometimes only one or two birds call the alarm, a sharp note repeated three or more times.  It sounds like this.

When I look for the reason they’re making the sound, I always see a hawk in the air.  I’ve learned to look for a raptor when I hear that sound.

The starlings must be saying, “Danger From The Air!”

 

(photo of starling flock by Pat Gaines on Flickr; click on the image to see the original. Recording of common starling (Sturnus vulgaris) by Toon Jansen at xeno-canto #XC393749)

Singing In November

Northern mockingbird (photo by Don Weiss)
Northern mockingbird (photo by Don Weiss)

This fall migrating mockingbirds came back to town to spend the winter.

Northern mockingbirds (Mimus polyglottos) were a southern species that now nest as far north as southern Canada. In autumn the birds move south and some decide that Pittsburgh is as far as they need to go.  New arrivals immediately set up territory and warn off other mockingbirds by singing, “Mine, Mine, Mine.”

The songs are pretty, and pretty confusing because mockingbirds mimic other species.  For instance, this Xeno Canto recording by Joshua Stevenson has an American robin sound at 0:11.  No it’s not a robin.

When I walk around my neighborhood this month I hear 15 different songs but they come from only two locations.  Two mockingbirds are “dueling” from opposite sides of Magee Field, the only birds singing in November.

Read how mockingbirds create The Voice of a Crowd in this vintage article from 2010.

 

(photo by Don Weiss; audio Xeno Canto #XC170052 by Jonathan Stevenson)

Not A Sparrow, Not A Thrush

American pipit, Algonquin Provincial Park, Canada (photo from Wikimedia Commons)
American pipit, Algonquin Provincial Park, Canada (photo from Wikimedia Commons)

Not a sparrow, not a thrush, he’s on his way to Georgia … sort of.

American pipits (Anthus rubescens) nest in alpine and arctic tundra and winter in open country from the southern U.S. (including Georgia) to Guatemala.  Right now they’re on the move through western Pennsylvania, but because our area lacks tundra the best place to find pipits is on mudflats.  And where are those?

Last Sunday a bunch of us stopped at Somerset Lake in Somerset, PA to look for birds.  Actually not a lake right now, it was drained to repair the dam and out on the mud roamed killdeer, dunlin and other shorebirds.  Among them were two songbirds that pecked the mud, darted, zigzagged, ran and jumped. American pipits.

We could hear them, too.  Here’s a loud pipit (with a soft longspur in the background):

On Throw Back Thursday this vintage article lists why pipits aren’t thrushes.  Back in 2010 it was posed as a quiz, but I’ve already told you the answer  😉    Quiz: Not A Thrush.

(photo from Wikimedia Commons; click on the image to see the original)