Scissor-tailed Flycatcher

For folks in New England, this is now old news. Yesterday, a juvenile Scissor-tailed Flycatcher was located at the Orange Municipal Airport, Orange, MA.

In all likelihood, the poor bird was blown north on the past weekend's Nor'easter. For the moment, it is feeding actively and putting on a good flycatching show for the many chasers who have converged on the tiny airport.

The Mass Bird List Serve ( http://birdingonthe.net/mailinglists/MASS.html#1256240312 ) has many additional links to photos. Fortunately, we are in the age of digital, so the hundreds, or even thousands, of photos which the bird is generating are not also contributing to excessive chemical waste from film processing. Here are my Scissor-tailed contributions:



For the bird's sake, let's hope it finds some way to head back south soon. New England is not far removed from weather ill-suited to a bird which winters in the tropics.

Good birding!

American Robin

In the woodlands, the loose, nomadic wintering flocks of resident birds are beginning to gather - chickadees, nuthatches, Downy Woodpeckers, Golden-crowned Kinglets, Brown Creepers.

Many Hermit Thrushes are also moving through the woods, but these did not provide any photo opportunities.

Migrating robins are increasingly common. Several were feeding on buckthorn berries in one patch- such as this one which insisted on staying half hidden ...

Then it popped onto a branch and perched/posed very cooperatively ...


Good birding!

Hawk Watching

Saturday provided a perfect sky for watching hawks, but the birds were high and few. Still, a few hours on Putney Mountain trumps most other fall activities, such as getting the house and yard ready for winter.

Red-tailed Hawks are moving south, as are the Turvey Vultures, a sure sign that winter is approaching. This is not a crisp photo of the Red-tailed Hawks, but it shows all of the marks of the Eastern Red-tail - the belly band, dark head, dark wing tips, and of course the red-tail.

When the oak leaves turn to rusty red, fall is on the wane, and winter is not far off.

Good birding!

Rare Geese

Hundreds of Canada Geese often hang out in the Connecticut River, in the waters of the Retreat Meadows and the West River, and in the nearby pasture and cornfield. They did so through most of September, then disappeared. Now they are coming back.

Once in a while among those hundreds of Canada Geese which hang out in the Brattleboro waters, there will be a different goose. Last April there was one.

In mid-April the paired Canada Geese were beginning to nest, while the bachelor and bachelorette geese meandered around the waters and pasture. Among the unpaired geese was a Bar-Headed Goose. Smaller than the Canada Geese, the predominantly light gray Bar-headed Goose stood out among the flock. About two-thirds the size of the familiar geese, it was also stouter. The back of its neck was dark brown, the beak yellow, and the head white. The head was also marked with prominent black bars, hence its name.

Geese do not often get called beautiful. That is not fair, but by our species-centric aesthetic standards, geese just don’t measure up. Not so the Bar-headed Goose. It was a beautiful bird.

Most of the local birding community came around for a look, and some birders passing near Brattleboro stopped for a gander. But generally the response was rather muted, and that requires an explanation.

The Bar-headed Goose is native to Central Asia. It breeds on the high plateau north of the Himalayan peaks, then migrates over those peaks to winter in the Indian subcontinent. And that is the problem. How did the Bar-headed Goose get so far off course?

The answer is that it probably did not get off course. This goose adapts very well to captivity and, I am told, is a favored addition to waterfowl collections, especially in Europe and England. Our Bar-headed Goose had no leg band, but collectors often neglect to band their captive birds.

One inventive birder offered the following itinerary for the Bar-headed Goose in Brattleboro. It was a feral bird in England that hooked up with White-fronted Geese and flew north to Greenland. In Greenland it hooked up with Canada Geese and flew south to Brattleboro, where it was found by local birders in April - when most migrating geese are heading north. I need hardly say that there are more than a few problems with this explanation.

The most likely explanation is that the Bar-headed Goose was an escapee from some private collection or zoo in the United States. The Sibley Guide to Birds includes the Bar-headed Goose among “Exotic Waterfowl,” with this note: “Exotic species frequently escape from zoos and private collections; virtually any of the world’s wafterfowl species can occasionally be seen free-flying in North America.” At best, the rare bird records committee will designate Bar-headed Goose, “Origin Unknown.”

The Bar-headed Goose was around the Retreat waters for several weeks. Then it flew with a flock of Canada Geese to Sunset Lake, and from there to a pond in Wilmington. Then the Bar-headed Goose and the Canada Geese it was with, disappeared. Non breeding Canada Geese often fly north to Canada in the early summer for their molt, and it is a reasonable conclusion that the Bar-headed Goose went with them.

As unusual and distinctive as the Bar-headed Goose is, if it has survived and wanders anywhere in the proximity of North American bird watchers, it will undoubtedly be reported again.

Another rare goose which could show up in the Retreat waters is the Barnacle Goose, a close relative of the Canada Goose. The Barnacle Goose is smaller, pale gray with a black breast, white face and short bill. The white face and white eyebrow make it stand out, even at a distance. In recent years, the Barnacle Goose has been reported during the spring waterfowl migration at the Hinsdale roost just north of the Vernon Dam, and in nearby corn fields. I don’t recall any reports from the Retreat waters, but I would not rule it out.

The Barnacle Goose is European. It winters along the northern coasts of Europe and the United Kingdom, then goes north to breed on rocky coasts of arctic islands. In North America, the Barnacle Goose has been popular in zoos and private collections. The first Barnacle Goose I saw was at the Philadelphia Zoo - and, no, I did not life list it.

Birds escape from zoos and private collections, and for a long time it was assumed that any Barnacle Goose seen in North America was an escapee. There was considerable tension between life-listing birders who wanted another tick, and records committees who dismissed every report of the Barnacle Goose as an escapee, or origin unknown. The life-listers insisted that there were too many regular sightings among the flocks of migrating geese for all of them to be escapees. Their arguments were unpersuasive. The Barnacle Goose is European, insisted various rare bird records committees; it does not come to North America on its own.

Except that the Barnacle Goose does come to North America on its own. The proof came in October, 2005, when a hunter in Ontario shot a Barnacle Goose that has been banded in Scotland in November, 2004. This clearly established this particular goose as a wild bird, not an escapee. It also proved that the Barnacle Goose, like many other European birds, could occasionally make a wrong turn and end up in North America. At that point, records committees became more willing to accept Barnacle Goose sightings.

The Bar-headed Goose and the Barnacle Goose are handsome birds that will stand out in a flock of Canada Geese. The Bar-headed seen in our neighborhood last spring was an exotic escapee. The Barnacle, when it appears, is probably a bird whose GPS went awry. Though respectively “impossibly rare” and “very, very rare,” both are avian messages that encourage us to pause and to look at those abundant geese roosting in our waters.

Good birding!

Note: Photos of Barnacle Goose in the Hinsdale roost were taken by Terry Wright who was the first to find the goose in March, 2007, and post the sighting on the VTBIRD listserve. Terry gave me permission to use the photos then, and I hope his permission extends to the present use. Thank you Terry.

Pileated Woodpecker

I'm still recovering from last weekend with the Newfane Heritage Festival (I had responsibility for all exhibitors). If you are interested, you can see more about this arts & crafts festival at www.newfaneheritagefestival.org

My hawkwatching friend, known to some as "Woodcarver Phil," and to others at Putney Phil (somewhat akin to that Pennsylvania groundhog prognosticator, Punxsytawney Phil, on account of predicting when the big Broad-winged Hawk day would be) - was one of the exhibitors. (I do hope you did not get lost in the subordinate clauses and parentheses.) He sold his hard carved feathered friend back scratchers - which by the way come with a life-time guarantee, good for as long as he lives.

Good birding!

Cackling Goose

You know all those Canada Geese you see on the Retreat Meadows and in the Connecticut River? In the Fall and the Spring, the numbers can be up in the hundreds, sometimes even thousands, as the Arctic migrants join our local Atlantic (or Eastern) Canada Geese. You look through several hundred Canada Geese and that’s all you see - Canada Geese. And most of the time that’s true. But all of those Canada Geese might not be Canada Geese.

A couple of weeks ago, after getting a clue from some other birders, I searched through hundreds of Canada Geese in the West River and on the Retreat Meadows, and at least one of them was not a Canada Goose. It was a Cackling Goose.

That is the good news ... and maybe the bad news. The Cackling Goose looks almost exactly like the Canada Goose. The plumage of these two geese is nearly identical: brownish body, black neck, white cheek patch, white under the tail. The Canada Goose is Branta canadensis. The Cackling Goose is Branta hutchinsii.

More specifically, the goose which was not a Canada Goose was a Richardson’s Cackling Goose, one of several recognized sub-species of Branta hutchinsii. Until a few years ago, Richardson’s Cackling Goose was known as Richardson’s Canada Goose, a sub-species - Branta canadensis hutchinsii.

Unless the hundreds of geese are very close, and not feeling skittish, you have to use binoculars (or even better, a scope), and you have to look closely. The Cackling Goose is smaller. The common eastern form of the Canada Goose which nests so prolifically in our waters is about 45 inches in length and weighs about 9.8 pounds. Richardson’s Cackling Goose is about 27 inches and weighs about five pounds.

But be careful that you don’t try to make a young Canada Goose, who hasn’t quite grown up, into a Cackling Goose. It is very unlikely that you will see a Cackling Goose during the time when our local geese are raising their young. The Cackling Geese are up in the Arctic doing that for their own species. They are not in our waters during breeding season.

Size is one difference between the Cackling and the Canada. A short stubby bill is another difference The short stubby bill gives the Cackling Goose what some might call a sweeter appearance, a cuteness or adorability that can seldom be attributed to the adult Canada Goose.

Body size and bill length are probably the best features to look for in picking out the Cackling Goose from the hundreds of Canada Geese. But here, too, caution is in order. Fall, winter, and spring, when Cackling Geese are most likely to be seen, is also the time when the arctic migrant Canada Geese mingle with our non-migrating geese. Among the Canada Geese, there are several recognized sub-species, including the Lesser Canada Goose. The Lesser Canada is generally described as around 36 inches in length, but there is lots of variation, and the Lesser’s size can approach that of the Cackling Goose.

There have been many times when I have searched through flocks of Canada Geese and have tried very diligently to make a smaller Canada Goose (probably a Lesser) into a Cackling Goose. The temptation gets compounded when the head is turned toward me; then the angle makes the bill of the Lesser Canada look much shorter, almost stubby. So I watch carefully until I get a profile, and until the subject in question swims close to an unquestionable Canada and allows for a size comparison. And invariably, my hoped for Cackling remains a Canada.

But not in late September when one goose was clearly smaller than the others. Its bill seen in profile was clearly stubby, and that gave it an unmistakably sweet appearance. Then I had a Cackling Goose, first in the West River, and a couple of hours later in the Retreat Meadows not far from the Route 30 boat access.

When birding, there is a temptation to “see” what we hope to see, hence there are a lot of wished-for identifications. I succumb to the temptation often. But when the “I-hope-to-see-this-bird is finally seen, there is a different kind of certainty. Such was the case with the Cackling Goose. Size, bill shape, and subtle coloring differences all combined to make the identification possible.

One other “field mark” which I did not benefit from is voice. The typical Canada Goose has a very distinctive, low-toned “honk.” The Cackling Goose gives a honk that is something like a high-pitched “squeak.”

Field characteristics have suggested to biologists for a long time that the Cackling Goose should be considered a species in its own right, and not a sub-species of the Canada Goose. With the added evidence from DNA studies, about five years ago the mavens of avian taxonomy granted species status to the Cackling Goose (Branta hutchinsii), and have included in this species Richardson’s (hutchinsii), Aleutian (leucopareia) and other smaller forms once considered to be Canada Geese. They all look like scaled down Canada Geese with small bills.

Parenthetically, a rule among taxonomists is that when a species is split into two or more species, each species is given a new name in order to avoid confusion with the old one. For example, the Rufous-sided Towhee was split into the Eastern Towhee and the Spotted Towhee.

But consistency is not a human characteristic and rules are made to be broken. The Canada Goose was split into the Canada Goose and the Cackling Goose.

Take your binoculars and look carefully at the Canada Geese. There may be one out there that has a stubby bill and whose honk is “squeaky,” instead of a “honky.”

Even if you don’t find a Cackling Goose among the hundreds of Canada Geese, don’t fret it. Just taking the time to take a good look at what’s out there is worth the effort. Such a pause in an otherwise busy day can turn an ordinary day into a good day. And you never know what else might suddenly appear. Good birding does not mean seeing what you expect to see, or hope to see. The allure of bird watching is that often you see what don’t expect.

As for example, when I found this hybrid Greater White-fronted x Canada Goose last November in at Millbrook, Audubon's home near Valley Forge, Pennsylvania.

Good birding!

Tufted Titmouse

Late afternoon Wednesday this Tufted Titmouse visited the feeder. Lack of typical titmouse activity suggested a young bird. Buzz cut crest suggested a molting bird. Behavior reminded me of the ill siskins this spring which would stay quietly on the feeders, taking a seed once in a while.

This titmouse knew how to handle the sunflower seeds, but behavior was different - so I conclude either young, or ill. Any thoughts?

Hawk Watching

Yesterday at the Putney Mountain Hawk Watch was a wonderful day. We had twelve species: Accipiters (SSHA, COHA, NOGO); Falcons (AMKE, MERL,PEFA); Buteos (RTHA, RSHA, BWHA - the one broadie was missing primaries and secondaries on one wing, other wing also ragged, making us wonder how it could even fly), Big Black Birds (BAEA, OSPR, TUVU). Many were low and the stream was steady.

A few photographic highlights. The Green Mountains are fast becoming hills of brilliant color. At 9am, Stratton Mountain still held a cloud in its grip.

Vermont's true snowbirds are returning - not the two legged kind that head to Florida for the winter - but the Dark-eyed Juncos that shift south, or down-slope, and stay around for the winter months. Now they stand out against the bright fall colors ...

The hawk watch/photographic highlight was the young Cooper's Hawk which made several sweeping attacks at the plastic owl we put on a tree top ...


Red-tailed Hawks are beginning to move southward, though often hunting along the way. This one kited to the west, then drifted north, and finally went south with dispatch ...

Likewise, the Turkey Vultures are beginning to move. A few drift northward for a while, but most are moving south, including this young one ...

And finally ... there were many Canada Geese flocks (20-70 birds at a time) on the move, often close enough to look for the smaller Cackling that might be mixed in. No Snow Geese yet. This flock never organized itself into the familiar V formation, but moved with seeming randomness from the Connecticut valley to the West River Valley ...

Good birding!

Sunday Afternoon

After days of rather dreary weather, it finally cleared this afternoon. We attended the Brattleboro Literary Festival in the early afternoon, went for early Sunday dinner, then home - where the afternoon sunlight through the fall foliage was wonderful.

The yard has been especially busy with woodpeckers - multiples of Downy Woodpeckers, at least one pair of Hairy Woodpeckers - and others that are, or soon will be, migrating. There have been several Yellow-bellied Sapsuckers working the trees; most likely they are young. This one is certainly a juvenile with just flecks of the red cap and red chin beginning to appear ...

Norther Flickers (yellow-shafted) are flying through the yard constantly. They are feeding heavily on the berries of the many viburnum that my favorite companion has planted throughout the yard. They are very skittish, and it was sheer luck that the camera focused quickly on this one ...

There were few migrating songbirds present. However, I did coax this Ruby-crowned Kinglet down - every so briefly - from the crown of the apple tree where it was feeding (note the broken white eye-ring) ...

I have to include one of the birds that does not fly south. The White-breasted Nuthatch helps lighten the short December days and warm the cold January days, and I salute him/her, even though many seeds were tossed out before one was chosen ...

And finally, just a touch of the autumn colors that are coming to their peak ...

Good birding!

Butter Butts

Watching warblers during their Fall migration is very different from watching them in the Spring. In the Spring, their plumage is fresh, and for many species, colorful. They may be on the way to breeding territory, but they are singing at every opportunity, getting their voices tuned up for the competition over a mate.

As the warblers move southward in the Fall, there may be more of them depending upon how successful they have been in raising young. If they are singing, however, it is not with the same vigor as in the Spring. And their plumage is often dull, especially for young birds. Roger Tory Peterson included two pages in his Eastern Guide illustrating “Confusing Fall Warblers.” He pictured twenty-four species of warbler, plus a kinglet and vireo. The most recent one volume edition of his field guides drops the word, “confusing,” from these pages. That was an editorial decision; the birds are still confusing.

Many adult warblers are in worn plumage or have molted into a less distinctive, more camouflaged, winter plumage. Most of the hatch year warblers, the immatures or juveniles, are plain compared to breeding adults. They can be easily overlooked. Which is the point: it gives them a slight edge against predators.

A case in point is the Yellow-rumped Warbler. When I showed my favorite companion a couple of photographs I took a week ago, her response was, “It looks like a sparrow.” That is, a non-descript, little brown bird.

But a closer look showed a wash of yellow along the sides and a broken white eye-ring. I had also seen the bird fly, and then it flashed the diagnostic yellow patch which gives it the common name: yellow-rump.

On recent days, the Yellow-rumped Warblers have been all around the clearing on the Putney Mountain ridge, busily feeding on berries or flycatching insects. They are plain little birds which sometimes showed their “butter butt” (as some like to call it) when flying.

The Yellow-rumped Warbler is one of the few warblers that does not abandon North America. Its winter range extends throughout the southern states and well northward along the Atlantic coast. Wintering yellow-rumps are not uncommon near the coasts of Connecticut and Massachusetts.

Because so many winter in North America, the Yellow-rumped Warbler is one of the first warblers to return in the Spring. Like many birders, I await the April morning fallout of these birds. It is a sign that at least some of the cycles of life are working as they should.

The mature male Yellow-rumped Warbler in fresh breeding plumage is stunning: White wing stripes on blue-gray wings. White throat and belly separated by a black bib. Black mask through the eyes. Broken white eye-ring. Bright yellow on the flanks. Bright yellow butt. And bright yellow cap. Dull down the colors, and you have a breeding female.

Scientifically, the Yellow-rumped Warbler is Dendroica coronata. Dendroica comes from Greek and means “tree-dweller.” Coronata is from Latin meaning “crowned,” and refers to this warbler’s bright yellow crown. In other words, scientists name the bird for its head, and common people name it for its butt. Make of that whatever you want. (Audubon, by the way, knew it as the Yellow-crowned Wood-Warbler.)

I should probably point out that not every bird which flashes a yellow butt when it flies is a Yellow-rumped Warbler. Magnolia Warbler and Cape May Warbler also have yellow rumps and share some other plumage similarities, suggesting that all may share a common ancestor somewhere in the distant past. The Yellow-rumped is bigger, and among warblers, in general, is described as burly, sturdy, and athletic.

There are two sub-species of the Yellow-rumped Warbler. The “Myrtle” is the eastern and northern form. Audubon wrote that during winter, “its principal food consists of berries of various kinds, especial those of the Myrtle and Pokeweed” - hence its name. The western form is “Audubon’s.” It was first described by the nineteenth century ornithologist John Townsend, who honored his friend in the naming. Audubon’s Warbler is one of the few birds named in honor of John James Audubon. Unfortunately for Audubon, he lost the warbler honor when scientists concluded that “Myrtle” and “Audubon’s” were really the same warbler species. “Myrtle” Warbler has a white throat; “Audubon’s” has a yellow throat.

Warblers, in general, need insects to survive. The abundance of this protein source in late Spring and Summer is what brings them to our woodlands for breeding. The Yellow-rumped Warbler is one of the few warblers that can survive on berries and seed for an extended period of time. Forbush wrote that along “the coast during the milder winters there are many flies rising from the seaweed in sheltered spots on mild days even in January, and there are eggs of plant-lice and some hibernating insects to be found on the trees, but the principal food of the Myrtle Warbler on the eastern coast during the inclement season is the bayberry.”

The Yellow-rumped Warbler is a leisurely migrant. Through September, October, and much of November, it gradually drifts southward, as though it just has to take time to enjoy the brilliant colors and crisp, clear days of a New England autumn. It is as though it was unaware that autumn will be followed anon by winter.

Well, we know that winter is coming. We are stacking our wood, putting in the storm windows, bringing out the flannel shirts, and servicing the snow blowers. But not at the expense, I should hope, of savoring these days when nature spills its palette across our hillsides.

I’d like to take a lesson from the Yellow-rumped Warbler and do some drifting, meander through the woods and fields, and see what there is to be seen. Maybe a bluebird, always a chickadee, and surely the bright butter butt.

Good birding!