Local birding report

July in Cape Elizabeth hums with quiet abundance. Birdsong drifts through marshes and shorelines—not the exuberant chorus of spring, but a more contemplative music. Juvenile calls mix with the rehearsals of late breeders, and the rhythms of migration begin to stir just beneath the surface. It’s a time when the landscape feels full and fleeting, and when a watchful eye might glimpse seasonal transitions, perhaps a fledgling tracing its first flight path, a dowitcher probing the flats, or a wren bubbling into view. This is birding in Cape Elizabeth at summer’s height: warm, wild and quietly expectant.

Looking back on July, what sticks out in my mind most were the following birding experiences across Cape; some I see as rights of summer passage, other new summer surprises.

On July 7, a sizable gathering of Short-billed Dowitchers caught my attention within the tidal wetlands section of Sawyer Road. These plump shorebirds, wielding surprisingly long bills like sewing needles, rhythmically probe the mud-flats for invertebrates with mesmerizing precision.

Despite their name, their bills rival those of the Long-billed Dowitcher; the “short” is merely comparative. But it’s not just their feeding that fascinates; it’s their understated beauty and adaptability. Breeding adults wear a tapestry of orange, gold and brown. Juveniles, edged in golden hues, shimmer in shifting light. They nest in boreal wetlands and migrate in flocks, favoring saltwater marshes and coastal lagoons. Their soft “tu-tu-tu” calls and elegant flight add a lyrical texture to northern bogs and our southern estuaries alike. Particularly intriguing is their molt strategy, referred to as molt migration.

While many shorebirds molt before heading south, Short-billed Dowitchers delay this process until reaching coastal wintering grounds. Spurwink Marsh serves as a critical stopover point for this long distance migrants, offering sanctuary for rest and renewal.

Other birds of note along this stretch of marsh on this summery day included the raspy trills of Nelson’s Sparrows mixed with the chu-weep calls from Semipalmated Plovers. While observing a Snowy Egret doing its golden booted foraging dance, a similarly sized steel blue colored bird came into view. This bird was clearly taking advantage of the Snowy’s foot-stirring, toe tapping behavior.

The uniform deep blue gray coloring led me to identify the bird as a Little Blue Heron, another bird that has become a summer right of passage for me to see. Little Blue Herons forage exclusively by walking slowly and employing head sways or tilts during hunting. Snowy Egrets have more tricks up their sleeves as they do stand still, walk-slow, disturb-and-chase, and foot-stirring.

An uncommon migrant during the summer months along the southern Maine coast in spring through summer, the Little Blue Heron is a rare breeder on Stratton Island just off of Cape in Casco Bay.

Additionally, one late afternoon in July, my two sons and I travelled along the fringes of Great Pond in our canoe listening for the Marsh Wren song. Every year around this time I am eager to hear this bird’s liquid gurgling song that melts into a mechanical chatter. Cape Elizabeth hosts four wren species annually. The Marsh Wren, similar in stature to the House Wren, nestles between the larger Carolina Wren and the diminutive Winter Wren. Only the Carolina Wren weathers spends all four seasons in Cape.

Also of note, in the afternoon on July 17 I set out across the Town Farm property, a 150 acre temporary easement protected by CELT and stumbled across Eastern Meadowlarks, two young males and mother.

This was the first time I have ever seen Meadowlarks in Cape Elizabeth. Amazingly, two Bobolinks appeared while I was watching the Meadowlarks. Juveniles of both species utilize protected properties like Town Farm and that includes pastures, hayfields, and grasslands to find food and avoid predators. Both species are ground nesters which contribute to their steep population declines through habitat loss and agricultural mowing practices that destroy nests during the breeding season. Meadowlarks are a Species of Special Concern in Maine and have a near threatened status. According to Bird Analyst’s Breeding Bird Survey data, the Eastern Meadowlark population in Maine has collapsed by close to 99% since 1968. If the current trends persist, Maine may not see another Meadowlark by 2028.

Lastly, on more than one occasion in late July, while walking through Robinson Woods II and III, I was greeted by the measured songs of the Winter Wren accompanied by Black-throated Green Warblers and Hermit Thrushes. Warm summer breezes drifted through the forest canopy as their melodies echoed among the trees.

I am reminded that these are the moments that I find myself longing for during the darkest days of winter, when snow piles up outside and the landscape lies dormant. It’s all here in the moment, an evergreen aroma, the filtered sunlight casting long shadows across the woods, and the timeless songs of the thrushes and a Winter Wren carrying through the forest.