Local birding report

By mid-July breeding season for woodland birds is winding down and consequently they have less reason to sing. The reduced frequency of singing makes finding birds even more challenging. Alas, there is always something of interest to see or hear and it is just a matter of being out in the field to chance upon it.

Along our coastline and marshes long-distance southbound waterbirds are already passing back through Cape en-route to wintering grounds in South America.

On July 9 within the Rachael Carson National Wildlife Refuge along Sawyer Road I observed six Least Sandpipers, three Greater Yellowlegs and a Willet noisily driving an Eastern Kingbird from its perch atop a metal pole. From the surrounding marsh grasses several secretive Nelson’s Sparrows were singing - their short, unmusical psssssstk calls sounding like miniature bursts of steam escaping tiny pipes. On this same outing I picked up a Wilson’s Snipe call while using the Cornell Labs Sound ID. Unfortunately, I did not see or hear this bird myself.

Additionally, upon playback I couldn’t decipher the bird’s call on the Sound ID spectrogram so I was not comfortable confirming the species in eBird. Additionally I was able to view four different types of Swallows - Barn, Tree, Northern-rough Winged and Bank. As for identification of the latter three, Tree Swallows are a good default for comparison with other swallows. Both adult and juvenile Tree Swallows have clean white throats, while the Northern-rough Winged’s throat and breast are visibly dingy brown. I had forgotten how adult female Tree Swallows are often brownish above with limited hints of blue and first year birds are especially brown (not blue). Bank and Northern Rough Winged Swallows are similar in size and can be tricky to differentiate between however the Bank Swallow’s slightly forked tail is often visible as is a brown band along its chest.

Unfortunately, Bank Swallows populations in southern Maine have declined more than any other aerial insectivore and are currently estimated to be at less than 1% of its 1966 population.

On this same day five Short-billed Dowitchers crossed overhead along Sawyer Road and the following day July 11th while travelling along the Eastern Trail across the Scarborough Marsh another small flock of these birds alerted me to their presence with shrill quivering whistles as they took flight out of the tidal wetlands. Short-billed Dowitchers are handsome golden and orange-colored shorebirds that have a bill over twice the size of its head. These birds are one of the first to migrate south every summer and they leave in stages, first moving to intermediate areas to complete molting. Once their new sets of feathers come in they then move on to their ultimate wintering areas. This strategy is called “molt migration.”

Closer to home, on the evening of July 13th I caught not one but two Wood Thrushes calling from the depths of Robinson Woods III. This was the first time in Cape that I had heard more than one Wood Thrush singing in proximity. The pure, sweet liquid refrains from one of the singing thrushes suddenly gave way to a distinctive machine-gun like pit-pit-pit call which typically accompanies either nest or territory defense.

Also around sunset on July 14th I biked the length of Charles Jordan Road. Of note, I was pleasantly surprised by four separate Eastern Towhee’s singing along the fringes of the forests and fields. I was also treated to the songs of Veery’s, Hermit Thrushes, Great-crested Flycatchers, Cedar Waxwings and a single and Wood Thrush and Least Flycatcher.

Lastly, on the stormy day of July 16 off of Two Lights State Park I scanned the rough ocean and noticed two small, robin-sized seabirds that had a distinctive flutter and glide to their movements as they seemed to sail just above the tops of the waves, hopping from the surface of one wave to the next, Oceanites oceanicus also called Wilson’s Storm Petrels!

These tiny charcoal brown seabirds have short bills, long legs and a noticeable white rump patch. Additionally, these little birds that weigh just over one ounce spend their entire lives on the open ocean are long-distance transequatorial migrants traveling 18,000 miles per year over an enormous variety of marine habitats. The first time I laid eyes on a Wilson’s Storm Petrel was in 2005 while crossing the Bay of Fundi in a sailboat race. I recall the sea being becalmed about twenty miles off of Halifax Nova Scotia when several hundred Wilson’s Storm Petrels appeared like a swarm of fluttering butterflies around our boat, their soft peeping and twittering notes casting a spell on all of us aboard.