Local birding report

As December settles in with snow and below average temperatures my backyard ebbs and flows with familiar winter activity: Dark-eyed Juncos chasing, White-throated Sparrows scratching, Cardinals glowing, Goldfinches clinging, Carolina Wrens creeping, House Finches and Chickadees dashing, White-breasted Nuthatches whacking, Titmice fluttering, Doves perching and Bluebirds watching.

Over the past several weeks, an array of winter visitors have arrived across Cape. Inland, the only winter finch with multiple reported sightings is the Evening Grosbeak. Along our rocky, windswept coastlines, seabird activity continues to heat up with eleven newly arriving species reported during the same period.

On November 23, along McKinney Point Road, I spotted my second male Evening Grosbeak of the season perched high in a leafless tree. Though swift in flight, these birds often seem unhurried when resting, lingering quietly for several minutes at a time. I also heard calls from what was likely a second bird nearby and noted in eBird that more than one might have been present. A few days later, a neighbor on the same road reported a female Evening Grosbeak at their feeder.

Then, on December 9, two males briefly visited my backyard, a moment both humbling and exhilarating, like witnessing a secret of nature hidden from most eyes. Sadly, their rarity reflects a troubling trend. A 2017 Partners in Flight Landbird Conservation Plan reported a 92% population decline since 1970, naming Coccothraustes vespertinus as the steepest-declining landbird in the continental U.S. While there are several distinct populations, recent data suggests small pockets in the Northeast and West may be showing signs of recovery. Originally confined to western coniferous forests, Evening Grosbeaks began expanding eastward in the late 1800s—likely aided by box elder plantings and abundant feeder seed—establishing breeding populations in the eastern U.S. and Canada by the early 1920s.

Additionally, on the snowy late afternoon of December 2 within Crescent Beach State Park, I observed four Greater Scaup, a Red-throated Loon and a Northern Mockingbird fiercely guarding its winterberry fiefdom. In comparison to a Common Loon, Red-throated Loons are smaller, with visibly thinner bills that almost always appear slightly upturned, unlike the Common Loon’s thicker, straight bill that is typically horizontal to the water.

On December 7, scrambling along the rocky shoreline from Dyer Point to Two Lights State Park, I encountered three separate flocks of hardy Harlequin Ducks. A dozen females and half as many males doning striking blue, chestnut, and white masked were boldly foraging for mollusks and crustaceans by darting down to the depths of the tumultuous sea. As I crept closer, their squeaky calls—earning them the nickname “sea mouse” were audible. Despite the cute moniker, Harlequins are rugged birds; studies show they suffer more broken bones than any other species, with most adults living with multiple healed fractures.

Interestingly, Maine’s coast hosts more than half of the eastern population in winter. At night, these ducks roost on open water far from shore. Other highlights at Two Lights included large offshore rafts of Black Scoters, Common Eiders and Long-tailed Ducks yodeling. Along the shore, I found a lingering Yellow-rumped Warbler and the inland forest was alive with Red-breasted Nuthatches.

Speaking of warblers, late-season reports across Casco Bay and its islands over the last two weeks included several Nashville Warblers, a Prairie Warbler and a Virginia’s Warbler on Peaks Island. The Virginia’s Warbler, a southwestern species, has only a handful of confirmed Maine records, all from Monhegan Island. Another rarity, an “accidental” MacGillivray’s Warbler, was recently reported along the Royal River. This skulker of western mountains has just four accepted Maine records, the last in Cape (Kettle Cove) in November 2015. As the sun began to set on December 5, I wandered through Hobstone neighborhood’s protected forest—a 21-acre tract of spruce, fir and hemlock preserved in 1997 by the Cape Elizabeth Land Trust, local residents and the town. Though sightings were sparse, I heard several Brown Creepers and a Barred Owl called out a single, signature “Who cooks for you,?” likely a young male staking its territory.

For decades Barred owls were concentrated primarily in southern and central Maine. However as forests matured and adandoned farmland reverted to woodland, Barred owls moved steadily northward. Today, they inhabit nearly the entire state, including remote boreal regions where, not long ago, they were absent. Eight hooters prefer older forests with layered canopies, decaying logs, and dense undergrowth. These environments support high prey availability and ideal nesting cavities. As Maine’s forests matured after 19th-century logging and farming decline, barred owls found near-perfect habitats. On the other side of the country, Barred Owls are causing a lot of commotion.

The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service’s plan to remove Barred Owls in the Pacific Northwest is controversial—and unfortunately, it’s the only viable alternative. Owls often evoke strong emotional responses, and understandably, the idea of killing them sparks intense opposition. However, this plan is grounded in over 40 years of research on the Northern Spotted Owl and considers multiple alternatives before arriving at this strategy.

While some argue that culling is extreme, the facts tell a different story. Barred Owls are not native to western North America; they expanded westward from the East Coast due to human-driven changes in the Midwest, ultimately invading Pacific forests. Habitat protection alone has failed; Spotted Owl populations continue to decline by roughly 12% annually where Barred Owls are present. Protected areas cannot stop Barred Owls from encroaching because they thrive in the same habitats as Spotted Owls and even in areas Spotted Owls do not use.

One of the most misleading claims is that 450,000 Barred Owls will be killed. In reality, that figure represents a worst-case scenario. The preferred strategy projects closer to 5,000 removals per year over 30 years—about 150,000 in total—targeting less than 0.5% of the population annually. This is not “open season;” removal will be carried out by trained professionals under strict federal oversight.

Beyond the Spotted Owl, 29 other species of conservation concern, including endangered salamanders, frogs, and small owls such as flammulated, screech, and pygmy owls, are being impacted by the Barred Owl’s unchecked spread. Barred Owls are not harmless natives in this region; they are invasive competitors, displacing Spotted Owls and destabilizing ecosystems. If we value biodiversity and want to prevent extinction, science-based intervention is the only realistic path forward. This plan is not about favoring one species, it’s about restoring balance and protecting an entire web of life.