Local birding report

The second and third weeks of September saw many of our summer resident songbirds depart for their winter homes while other southbound migrants were stopping in briefly to rest and refuel before carrying along on the dangerous journey.

My notes from the yard and field over the last two weeks include, on September 7 a Brown Thrasher made an appearance on our lawn. Fully two inches longer than a Robin and with a speckled breast, bright yellow eyes and a heavy, slightly downcurved bill, the ever secretive foxy-red Thrasher uses its bill to boldly forage in the soil for food. Of note, this bird particularly likes to eat acorns.

Observing the bird for a couple of minutes I could not help but notice that the Thrasher’s movements were often similar to the Carolina Wrens in yard. In her 1899 publishing “Bird Neighbors,” nature writer Neltje Blanchan described this “undeniable wrenlike trait, that of twitching, wagging and thrashing his long tail about to help express his emotions. It swings like a pendulum as he rests on a branch, and thrashes about in the most ludicrous way as he is feeding on the ground upon the worms, insects and fruit that constitute his diet.” While I continued to spy on the Thrasher from the corner of my yard a female Rose-breasted Grosbeak’s sharp chink call rang out in the distance.

Additionally, on September 10 across the rolling meadows of Maxwell Farm I noted large numbers of Savannah Sparrows. Some were clinging to the tops of pasture shrubs and tall weeds, chattering softly as they gathered ripened seeds. Ornithologist Edward H. Forbush once commented about the Savannah Sparrow that “both bird and song are so inconspicuous that most people seldom notice.”

The following day a single female Magnolia Warbler and Common Yellowthroat passed through our yard.

On September 15, the eve of Tropical Storm Lee, Cornell’s BirdCast Migration Dashboard forecasted an estimated two and a half million nocturnal birds passing along the Atlantic Flyway and through Cumberland County. An estimated half a million birds were overhead during peak migration traffic around 9:20 p.m. With strong Southwest winds and little rain, these nighttime flyers harnessed tail winds along the storm’s western flank to power-boost their journeys.

On the morning of the tropical storm (September 16) I went looking for wind sheltered places deep within Robinson woods where I might be able to see and hear birds. Not long after setting out I came across a little party of southbound American Redstarts and Northern Parulas darting and fluttering. Several times when the wind died down, I would hear the rolling call of Northern Flickers.

While wandering along the fringes of Robinson Woods III and a neighbor’s property a boisterous band of Blue Jays alerted me to a stand of old White Pine trees and where, fifty or so feet up was a hunkered down Great Horned Owl. As the wind whistled through the treetops, I could see the owl’s ear tufts blowing this way and that, reminding me of tell-tales on a boat’s sail. Great Horned Owls’ “horns” are tufts of feathers called plumicorns, meaning “feather horns” in Latin. The purpose of these horns includes but are not limited to, courtship, camouflage, aggression – for instance threat posturing, i.e. raising and lowering of tufts and communication. Larger more prominent tufts may indicate overall health and strength - both desirable traits in a mate. From personal observations I can see how these magnificent, feathered features break up the shape of the bird, thus affording it better chances of blending in with its surroundings, dodging harassers and ambushing prey. On a related note, my mother-in-law heard a Great Horned Owl calling at close range the night of September 17 along Two Lights Road.

Additionally, on the afternoon of September 16 my son and I braved the crowds at Dyer Point. Common Eiders rafted up just offshore while Northern Gannets plunged into the choppy surf offshore. Also reported on this same day off Dyer Point were Caspian Terns, Black-legged Kittiwakes and the first Great Cormorants of the season. Also, a visit to Trundy Point yielded two Common Yellowthroats and a flyover from a Merlin.

Lastly, on September 17 along the Sawyer Road section of the Rachel Carson National Wildlife Refuge I spotted a single Stilt Sandpiper mixed in with four Lesser Yellowlegs. An uncommon but regular fall migrant in southern coastal Maine, this species nests in the subarctic tundra below dwarf birch and willow trees and among bog blueberry and mountain cranberry shrubs. During its southward migration, a majority of Stilt Sandpipers travel through the middle of the continent, west of the Mississippi River. In its fall plumage this sandpiper resembles a young Lesser Yellowlegs, but its body is smaller, and its legs are greenish and not bright yellow. It is an uncommon but regular fall migrant in southern coastal Maine.

Oddly, in a long-term Canadian study of breeding Stilt Sandpipers, scientists uncovered that among mates pairing for the first time, the female Stilt Sandpiper with the longest bill and the male with the shortest bill tended to be the first to pair off.