Local birding report

As summer wanes and the forest begins its slow exhalation into autumn, the tinny, hornlike notes of a diminutive forest dweller ring through our trees—a sound both whimsical and unmistakable. Less common than its White-breasted cousin, the Red-breasted Nuthatch is a spirited, agile bird that scurries up and down trunks and branches, gleaning arachnids and insects with tireless energy.

This scrappy little climber wears a black cap with a subtle bluish sheen, a bold white eyebrow and a dark eye-stripe that gives it a masked appearance. Its underparts glow with a rich, rusty cinnamon hue. Males and females differ slightly in plumage, though both share the same compact, purposeful silhouette.

One distinguishing feature worth remembering is the contrast in vocalizations between the two nuthatch species. The Red-breasted’s call is higher-pitched and more nasal than the White-breasted’s, and unlike most of its kin, it uses its soft, musical song in courtship—a gentle serenade in the canopy. Self-taught naturalist Cordelia J. Stanwood wrote of her fondness for these birds, describing them: “In their favorite evergreen woods, their merry pipings fill the land.”

Though both species exhibit undulating flight, the Red-breasted appears smaller and nimbler, turning deftly in midair as it chases insects.

A few recent notes from the field include, on September 3, I watched two Red-breasted Nuthatches hawking insects above the Pond Cove Brook Corridor, their movements quick and precise. Earlier that day, one visited my backyard, wedging a sunflower seed into a tree crevice and hammering it apart with its stout bill—a behavior known as “hatching,” from which the nuthatch family takes its name.

According to the North American Breeding Bird Survey, Red-breasted Nuthatch populations have steadily increased across much of their northern range between 1966 and 2019—a quiet triumph for this industrious species.

Just past sunset on September 4, a Great Horned Owl stood sentinel atop the old barn chimney at Turkey Hill Farm, its silhouette stark against the fading light. From the woods beyond the orchard, the toy-like squeaks of Wood Ducks—also known as “Squealer Ducks”—echoed through the dusk. Both male and female Wood Ducks produce this distinctive sound, a curious blend of whimsy and wildness.

Additionally, on September 7 while traveling the back trail of Crescent Beach State Park, a small mixed party of birds appeared to include one each of the following: American Redstart, Black-throated Green Warbler, Cape May Warbler, and Philadelphia Vireo. Later that afternoon, I found two White-rumped Sandpipers hunkered down along Dyer Point.