Local birding report

As November deepens, Cygnus, the celestial swan, drifts slowly westward, its wings dimming in the early dusk. Once radiant and high in the summer sky, it now echoes the quieting of the natural world below. Yet as one rhythm fades, another begins: the steady wingbeats of winter birds and waterfowl gathering on coastal waters and inland ponds—a seasonal change of the guard that brings a new kind of energy to the landscape.

A few noteworthy sightings over the past two weeks highlight this transition. On the morning of October 31, four female Purple Finches quietly arrived at our backyard feeder. Often referred to as “winter finches,” Purple Finches are partial migrants, with northern populations moving south in winter depending on cone crop availability.

Female Purple Finches contrast sharply with their male counterparts, sporting streaked brown and white plumage and a distinct white eyebrow that aids in identification. I like to think of them as miniature female Rose-breasted Grosbeaks, though they’re more often mistaken for House Finches. Compared to their unsavory cousin, Purple Finches are chunkier, more crisply patterned, and—despite regional declines due to competition and habitat changes—their overall populations remain relatively stable thanks to their adaptability and nomadic habits.

On November 2, while exploring the windy headland of Trundy Point with family, we witnessed a remarkable movement of Brant Geese—six flocks totaling well over 300 birds flying low along the coastline. Their laid-back, throaty calls overhead created a moment of quiet awe. In flight, Brant form tight, swarm-like groupings, less linear than Canada Geese. Not much larger than a Mallard, their name comes from the Old Norse brandgas, meaning “burnt goose,” a nod to their dark, blackish-gray plumage. A white necklace-like patch around the neck adds subtle contrast, though it’s often hard to see from a distance.

Brant are Arctic breeders and among the wariest of New England’s wildfowl, historically hunted for both meat and feathers—once prized for pillow and bedding fill. Today, their greatest threat is habitat degradation, especially in wintering wetlands. A 2005 study in Global Change Biology by David H. Ward and colleagues suggests that anthropogenic changes to marine wetlands have forced Brant to shift from native aquatic plants to foraging in cultivated fields and beach grasses—behavior now observed more frequently along Maine’s coast. Interestingly, historical records suggest that November counts rarely exceed 40 birds, making this recent sighting all the more notable.

Other highlights from the same day included a dozen Northern Gannets plunging into offshore waters and the season’s first sightings of White-winged, Black and Surf Scoters.

Also on November 2 I spotted a single Orange-crowned Warbler in an ornamental fruit tree near the middle school. A rare treat, this understated warbler is typically yellow-olive to greenish with no wing bars, and its namesake orange crown is almost always hidden. Unlike many warblers that winter in the tropics, Orange-crowned Warblers pass through Cape Elizabeth en route to the southern U.S., and will occasionally visit feeders offering suet.

Lastly, a bit of good news from the conservation front: BirdSafe Maine recently reported that after WEX treated its problematic corporate windows with bird-safe tape this past summer, volunteers found zero dead birds at that location during September and October. This underscores the effectiveness of bird-safe materials—especially when compared to untreated facades where strikes continue. The birding community is grateful to WEX and other Maine companies taking meaningful steps to reduce bird collisions.