Local birding report

Although the loss of daylight and unpredictable weather pose challenges for birders in late fall, the season also provides the opportunity to reflect, hone-in and enhance our birding skills and knowledge, pushing us to pay closer attention to subtle field marks, behaviors and calls. And with an ever-changing avian landscape, there is always something of interest to see or hear in Cape Elizabeth and it is just a matter of getting out there and tuning in.

As for observations from the yard and field, on November 16 while doing one last scan of the gravel sections of parking lot within Crescent Beach State Park I noticed a flash of white as several bluebird sized birds briefly rose up in the air then seemingly disappeared. Upon closer inspection I spied five Snow Buntings in their non-breeding plumage hunkered down in the shadow of a parking curb stop. By the time these birds arrive in Cape (from the northern tundra) about half of their crisp white plumage (bottom remains white) has given way to deep reddish orange tones which serve to camouflage the bird on their hibernal haunts - bare ground and crop stubble. During migration and in winter when upland field seeds are snow covered this bird can be found along our shorelines dining on tiny seeds and eelgrass.

According to Peter Vickery, Snow Buntings are somewhat common across the state during the late fall and winter months. That said, there were only a handful of ebird confirmed reports this past fall and winter across Cape and not a single report yet this November. Speaking of snowbirds, the Winter Finch forecast for 2024-25 had predicted a moderate flight of Evening Grosbeaks southward this fall. I had not thought too much about this prediction until the bright morning of November 17. I was working in the yard when the voice of an unfamiliar bird calling high up in an Oak Tree caught my ear.

The shrill chirps persisted for several minutes. Interestingly, Cornell’s Merlin app stated that the calls were coming from a Cardinal and/or a Titmouse, but it sounded nothing like either bird and I had a strong hunch that it was something different. After dashing back to the house to retrieve my binocs I quickly scanned the upper regions of the tree and spotted a smoke gray colored bird with white and black wings, an Evening Grosbeak! Shortly thereafter the bird flew off to the top of a white pine where, against a backdrop of blue sky the bird continued to call as if desperately lonely for companionship.

There is something about being in the presence of an Evening Grosbeak that stirs a sense of wildness deep within. Ornithologist and Civil War army surgeon Dr. Elliot Coues once stated, “This is a bird of distinguished appearance, whose very name suggests the far-away land of the dipping sun, and the tuneful romance which the wild bird throws around the fading light of day.”

And another renowned eighteen-hundreds ornithologist, Edward H. Forbush, stated in his personal account upon first seeing this creature, “seen for the first time amid the snows of winter or against a background of darkling pines, these strange and beautiful waifs of the northland seem somehow out of place, as would some rare and singular exotic plant blossoming in a New England winter.”

Interestingly, exactly four years ago on November 17, two pairs of Evening Grosbeaks appeared at my platform feeder in the backyard. That day marked the first time I had laid eyes on an Evening Grosbeak in Maine. Since then, my only other sighting was in October 2022 when a male and female briefly dropped into our backyard. Leveraging ebird’s data I learned that within the last thirty days, only one other Evening Grosbeak sighting had been reported (November 6 in South Harpswell) across all of southern Maine.

True to its winter wandering ways, Coccothraustes vespertinus does not stick around any one place too long. Originally a bird of the far northwest and unknown east of the Rocky Mountains before the late 1800s, this species expanded its presence eastward through the late 19th and early 20th centuries. What likely facilitated this expansion of the grosbeak’s range was the planting of non-native ornamental berry trees.

In recent decades the eastern population of Evening Grosbeaks have declined by 92%, the steepest decline of any landbird in the continental U.S. or Canada. There are several reasons for this species’ decline including boreal forest logging, disease and lack of forest insects due to aerial spraying in the U.S. and Canada. This winter, listen for the heavyset finches running patter of call notes, which can be sharp, warbled or sweet. You may just catch a glimpse of an Evening Grosbeak.

Lastly, in early November my two sons and I were horsing around in our backyard when we came upon a significant amount of black and white skunk fur, spread out roughly in a circle. As we searched for clues to better understand what may have occurred, my older son noticed a feather lying in the grass. Carefully untangling the incredibly soft feather from a bit of skunk fur I noticed its distinct striping and knew just what it was, a feather from the fearless Great-horned Owl.

Although a skunk can weigh up to three times as much as a Great-horned, this owl holds the distinction of being the primary predator of Striped Skunks. Clearly the skunk had been ambushed and had chunks of its fur plucked from it before, likely being swept back up into the moonlit night by a Great-horned Owl. What a sight that would have been to see! Great-horned owl feathers are considered sacred by many Native American tribes and are used in ceremonies and rituals because the feathers are believed to carry the owl’s spirit, energy and blessings.