Local birding report

On the afternoon of November 4 I came across a very late in the season Blue-gray Gnatcatcher. This was a particularly joyous occasion because the last time I encountered a gnatcatcher was way back in May of 2022. The tiny steely blue-gray bird was in classic foraging form, dashing and skipping through the upper regions of a neighbor’s ornamental fruit tree. The gnatcatcher’s blackish tail is conspicuously long compared to its kinglet sized body, and it often flicks its white-edged outer tail feathers from side to side as it gleans insects and larvae from branches and leaves. One of my favorite things about Blue-gray Gnatcatchers is their ability to produce a soft, pleasing warbling ditty, often including mimicked bits from repertoires of other birds including wood warblers, vireos, towhees and Blue Jays. Because of the bird’s coloring, long tail, fussy manners and ability to mix snips of other birds’ songs together it has been called the “Little Mockingbird.”

Blue-gray Gnatcatchers are widespread but never abundant across Cape during spring migration and their breeding range has expanded northward over the last century. According to Peter Vickery’s “Birds of Maine” which was published in 2020 there have been very few sightings of Blue-gray Gnatcatchers in November, a total of nine, mostly from south coastal Maine. Interestingly, on November 4 another Blue-gray Gnatcatcher was reported on Bailey Island in Casco Bay.

Earlier in the day I also noted a single, lingering Yellow-rumped Warbler and yet another male Wilson’s Warbler in our yard. The Wilson’s Warbler is one of the 150 birds that will soon have its name changed by the American Ornithological Society as part of a sweeping overhaul of all bird species currently named after people, along with any other names deemed exclusionary or offensive. This is an opportunity to highlight unique features of the bird, which in the case of the Wilson’s Warbler is its black cap.

From what I have read about the ornithologist Alexander Wilson, he always favored descriptive names for birds so I cannot imagine that he would mind if the bird’s name was changed as part of a broader effort to diversify birding and make the hobby more welcoming to people of all races and backgrounds. Ornithologist David Sibley stated that “simply because birds are not objects, they should not have to carry the banner for a person, no matter how good that person was.” Renaming all birds for their sounds, habitat or appearance seems to be the best way to avoid trying to determine which names were decent enough to remain.

The following day November 5 I came across a Merlin perched on a streetlamp just outside Pond Cove Elementary School. Other locations where these falcons have been spotted over the last two weeks include Kettle Cove, Two Lights State Park and Dyer Point.

On the night of November 8 the northwest winds had died down from earlier in the day and the sky was partly cloudy with a waning crescent moon. At around 10:30 p.m. I slipped out of the house to listen for owls. After ten minutes had passed I had heard only the chirping of a Northern flying squirrel and the yipping and howling of coyotes nearby. Then, during a lull in activity I heard a short, muffled squawk.

From my years of listening to another small owl, the Eastern Screech Owl, I was optimistic that the squawking noise I had heard was most likely an owl. I did rule out the sound coming from a screech owl primarily because they are very rare in these parts. Thinking that it might be a Northern Saw-whet Owl I immediately gave my best twenty second too-too-too whistle call, the most typical call male Saw-whet’s give during the breeding season. I am mindful that mimicking owl calls (either through voice or recording) can peak the interest of bigger owls like the Great-horned who are known to prey on Northern Saw-whets.

As I stood patiently hoping for some sort of response my senses were startled by a flash from something that had silently zipped past me. After another couple minutes of silence, three quick shrieking barks rang out from a small stand of young pine trees nearby. There on a branch I could just make out the faint silhouette of a Northern Saw-whet Owl. Seconds later my senses were put into overdrive when a separate guttural squawk emanated from deeper in the woods – another Northern Saw-whet Owl! These little forest elves are master ventriloquists capable of a vast range of noises from whines to whistles to harsh bat like squeaks. Northern Saw-whet Owls are short distance migrants and every autumn substantial numbers migrate along the Atlantic’s coastal lowlands and islands from Maine down to Virginia. While most females and younger Saw-whets migrate south, many males remain in the state throughout the winter months.

Weather conditions, wind direction and moon phase are important factors for saw-whet movements. On the night of November 8 prevailing northwest winds and a slim waning crescent moon provided ideal conditions for these “invisible owls” to be on the move. Interestingly, eastern U.S. populations exhibit a population cycle in which Saw-whet numbers generally peak every four years. This peak is closely tied to the small rodent populations which also peak in high mast years such as this year.

Lastly, there have been several reports of Snow Buntings across Cape including Two Lights State Park, Crescent Beach State Park and Dyer Point. Of note, fellow birders Jeanne and Mike Beck came across a small flock of foraging Snow Buntings in Riverside cemetery on November 9. A winter visitor from northern latitudes, aka the Arctic Tundra, these chunky ground-dwelling birds feed mostly in fields and shorelines. Bluebird in size, their snow-white underparts contrast nicely with black wing tips and rufous overtones.