CHANGE IS IN THE AIR
by Julie Amato
Winter has begun to feel long. The pandemic, of course, casts a deep shadow, and we have all spent too much time apart from family and friends.
But there is more to it than that. Perhaps it’s the recent stretch of flat, gray, cloudy days that don’t produce rain. Perhaps it’s the stillness and silence in my yard, after I took down my feeders to curb the spread of disease among Pine Siskins and other finches (an attempt to socially distance the birds that invites analogy). Perhaps it’s simply because it feels time for a change. And change, in the form of spring, is on its way.
For right now, though, let’s stay with the moment we’re in. Here are the birds that have accompanied me through the winter, brightening my days, and I hope yours too.
The birds of winter
A Pine Siskin, a diminutive member of the finch family
If this winter belongs to any bird, it is the Pine Siskin. Like many of you, I have never seen so many of these petite, richly-streaked finches with their lemon-yellow wing stripes and pointy bills. In recent months, these migrants from the north have shown up in increasingly large numbers in our yard, up to several dozen at a time. They have carpeted our lawn, foraging for seeds in the grass, and filled our plum tree, their favorite perch, looking like tiny ornaments on the branches, swaying gently in the breeze.
A blurry glimpse of a possible “green morph” Pine Siskin (foraging between a Lesser Goldfinch and a normally-colored Pine Siskin)
In the midst of this abundance, we have occasionally spotted a Pine Siskin with an extensive wash of yellow color on its sides and breast. These very yellow siskins are called “green morphs” and are rare - according to Birds of the World, only about one in every 100 male birds exhibits this color pattern. As with many things avian, scientists aren’t sure why this occurs, but these birds are certainly a delightful find.
A sick Pine Siskin - note the puffy body and swollen, partly-closed eye
One day, I noticed a puffy, lethargic siskin foraging slowly and stiffly in the grass. When the other birds flushed, this bird remained, barely moving. It continued to limp around the yard that day, in a slow but evident decline. In subsequent days, I saw a bird here, another there, with similar symptoms.
Sadly, Pine Siskins are experiencing a pandemic of their own right now - an outbreak of salmonellosis, a deadly, highly-contagious disease which is transmitted through contaminated feces. Sick birds are almost exclusively observed at bird feeders and baths, where birds come together in large numbers and close quarters. Individuals may be asymptomatic but still transmit the disease. Other birds, like Lesser and American Goldfinches, are also susceptible to salmonellosis.
Following the recommendation of the California Department of Fish and Wildlife, I have taken down all of my feeders for the time being, in an attempt to reduce the spread of the disease. The siskins and their other finch relatives have moved on. The yard is quieter, less joyful without them, yet I hope they are safer now, and hold them in my heart.
A White-crowned Sparrow - these birds are faithful and numerous winter visitors to our yard
This winter, we have also been treated to a great flutter of all kinds of sparrows. (Search for “What is a group of sparrows called?”, and in addition to “flutter”, you will get “host”, “crew”, “ubiquity”, and more.) Every morning, we awake to the calls of White-crowned and Golden-crowned Sparrows. The birds drop through the trees to shuffle through the dirt and grass, looking for seeds. The White-crowned Sparrows are especially numerous, and we have had up to two dozen at a time spread across the lawn, foraging.
In addition to the crowned sparrows, a tiny Lincoln’s Sparrow visits us daily, and a Fox Sparrow drops by from time to time. Dark-eyed Juncos and California Towhees are regulars, and we are occasionally surprised by a Spotted Towhee. When last seen, the bird was vigorously excavating a shallow basin underneath a flowering plant, perhaps kicking up seeds or enjoying a nice dirt bath.
A Ruby-crowned Kinglet, perpetual motion machine - the bird shivers its wings almost constantly
A Ruby-crowned Kinglet (or kinglets - I only see one at a time, and it’s hard to tell the individuals apart) has been a regular visitor to our yard this winter. A shimmering in our blue potato bush, the source obscured by many tiny branches, alerts me to its presence. Occasionally, if I happen to be looking at a male bird, I am treated to a flash of its ruby crown, a bright dot (that looks more orange to me) on the top of its head, mostly hidden in the bird’s olive-green feathers.
The kinglet is a perpetual motion machine, restless, sitting still only for nanoseconds at a time - it is a flitter (try saying that quickly)! For every twenty pictures I take of it, I might get one that is actually sharp. And then, to get a photo in which the bird’s face isn’t blocked by a branch or leaf, I’ll need to take twenty more. I often hear kinglets before I see them (if I see them at all), clicking and clacking away like old-fashioned telegraph machines.
While Cooper’s Hawks are common in my neighborhood, Red-tailed Hawks aren’t, so I was surprised when one landed heavily in the middle of our yard one recent afternoon (I was alerted to its presence by the urgent fleeing of every single songbird that had been placidly browsing the yard only an instant earlier). The bird also seemed surprised to be in our small yard - “What am I, king of the hawks, doing in this shoebox?” I imagined it thinking - and hopped to the top of the fence, taking off seconds later.
“Good enough for ID” photo - a quick snap of a Red-tailed Hawk, taken with a smartphone through my spotting scope
Later, on a crisp morning, I heard American Crows alarm-calling, and looked up to see the birds swooping forcefully at the top of a tall fir tree, pulling away from collision at the last moment. I peered through my spotting scope and there it was - a Red-tailed Hawk, tolerating the crows’ swipes. At some point, it must have decided that it had had enough - it took off, languidly flapping away, not giving the crows the satisfaction of thinking that they had disturbed it.
A Yellow-rumped Warbler jealously guarding our suet feeder
Earlier this winter, a Yellow-rumped Warbler appointed itself the sole keeper of our suet and platform feeders, defending them against all other birds that attempted to come in for a nibble. My husband and I observed numerous chase scenes, like something out of the movies (the other birds were able to eat their fill when the warbler ventured away on yard patrol, its other self-appointed duty).
Although Yellow-rumped Warblers eat a broad range of foods, our suet feeder, with its woodpecker tail prop, never seemed a comfortable perch for this particular bird, and the platform feeder contained shelled whole peanuts that were too large for it to gulp down. When a peanut would get dropped off the platform by another bird, the warbler would take the nut over to our concrete patio and toss it down, over and over, in an attempt to chip off smaller pieces. Given the ready availability of peanut bits already scattered on the ground, we were perplexed by the bird’s effort.
Why do birds do what they do? This is one of the reasons we watch them - to learn, to speculate, and to maybe hit on a truth every now and then.
Signs of spring
Sitting at the window on this late February day, I know that spring is coming. It is a sunny, breezy day, and the wind carries the smell of wet earth with it. Fruit trees are sprinkled with pale white and pink blooms; magnolias are in fine form; and daffodils are popping up all around the neighborhood.
A Bewick’s Wren, an early and loud spring singer
The birds are also telling me - quite literally - that spring is on its way. In the past month, our local Bewick’s Wrens have started to sing: a low, barely perceptible buzz followed by four high, clear, loud notes. My husband was the first to hear them - one wren in particular enjoys singing right outside his office window, in plain view of his desk. We also hear the song emanating from our backyard bushes, and this morning, I heard it as I walked around the neighborhood.
Over the past few weeks, a persistent Northern Mockingbird has also had a lot to say. Every morning, and for extended periods of time throughout the day, he picks a perch - the top of a tree or an overhead wire - and chatters on and on, repeating a set of sounds until, it seems, monotony sets in, then he shifts to a new set. His pièce de résistance for a listening female is his somewhat thin, shrill imitation of a California Scrub-Jay.
Over the month of March, as spring approaches and arrives, I’ll keep listening. I expect nature to become more of a soundtrack now, an increasingly varied and exuberant accompaniment to the visual landscape. More birds will sing, both more species and more individuals. I will also be looking for acts of courtship, birds that appear to be paired off, and nest-building activities - birds carrying fibers or twigs in their bills, or making repeated visits to particular spots in bushes and trees, where nest construction may be in progress.
I’ll be paying attention to what our winter migrants are doing too. How long will our White-crowned and Golden-crowned Sparrows remain? How many of them will develop their glorious breeding plumage before they leave? When will I last hear the chuck call of a Yellow-rumped Warbler before it leaves for its breeding grounds further north?
And when will our spring migrants show up? I’ll be keeping my eyes open for Brown-headed Cowbirds, frequent spring and summer visitors to backyards here in Santa Clara Valley. And when I see my first Hooded Oriole newly arrived from the south, its sunny, yellow-orange feathers shining brightly from the trees, I will know that spring is finally here.
More resources
Salmonellosis outbreak in California
The California Department of Fish and Wildlife describes the current outbreak and recommends that backyard birders remove bird feeders and baths.
FAQ - Bird feeders and salmonellosis
The Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife provides guidance on what backyard birders can do to reduce the spread of salmonellosis.
What birds are in your yard?
What are you seeing and hearing in your yard or neighborhood now? All observations are good, and species ID’s aren’t necessary! (In fact, we can help with that.)
Drop us a note or send a photo or sound clip to backyardbirds@scvas.org. We’ll publish your observations in our next All Around Town, our regular round-up of backyard bird stories.
Julie’s backyard bird list (January 25 - February 21, 2021)
Mourning Dove
Anna’s Hummingbird
Gull species* (flyover)
Turkey Vulture* (flyover)
Cooper’s Hawk
Red-tailed Hawk
Nuttall’s Woodpecker
Black Phoebe
California Scrub-Jay
American Crow
Chestnut-backed Chickadee
Oak Titmouse
Bushtit
Ruby-crowned Kinglet
White-breasted Nuthatch
Bewick’s Wren
Northern Mockingbird
Western Bluebird*
American Robin*
Cedar Waxwing*
House Sparrow*
House Finch
Pine Siskin
Lesser Goldfinch
American Goldfinch
Fox Sparrow
Dark-eyed Junco
White-crowned Sparrow
Golden-crowned Sparrow
Lincoln’s Sparrow
California Towhee
Spotted Towhee
Yellow-rumped Warbler
*Species only observed elsewhere in my neighborhood, within walking distance of my home.
Banner photo: California Towhee
All photos by Julie Amato