All the ways Maine is wicked good

Month: March 2018 (page 1 of 1)

Storm Skylar

The snow started yesterday morning, snowed all day, often with gusting winds, off and on during the night. There were still snow flurries when I went out this morning to take pictures.

https://youtu.be/6Cjb5e-884c

Some stills:

Version 2IMG_2694IMG_2693IMG_1735IMG_2683IMG_2692IMG_2690

The Absence of Grosbeaks

Evening_grosbeak_pair_reesman_odfw_(15432741907)

Evening Grosbeak (Coccothraustes vespertinus) Image Credit: Martyne Reesman, Oregon Department of Fish and Wildlife

While I was growing up in New Hampshire, we always had bird feeders. I started to pay serious attention to them the winter I turned 12. That’s the first year I remember seeing birds other than Blue Jays and Chickadees.

We could tell the season by the birds at our feeders.Spring was marked by Mourning Doves, Red-Winged Blackbirds, and Sparrows of several persuasions. Summer brought American Goldfinches, with their gorgeous bright plumage, zig-zag flight and constant song. My dad would let one or two Scottish Thistles bloom so we could enjoy the Goldfinches feasting on the seeds in late summer. Nuthatches and woodpeckers got serious about the suet in late fall. In winter, we had Chickadees, Eastern Blue Jays, Juncos, Pine Siskins, Red Polls, Purple Finches. And my favorites; huge flocks of Evening Grosbeaks. They were rather like giant Goldfinches in coloration, and in their constant chatter. They would descend on the feeders in February or March, often in the aftermath of a heavy snow. They would devour everything in sight, going through pounds of sunflower seeds in minutes, chattering the entire time.

I expected to see Evening Grosbeaks here in Maine last winter or this. I haven’t. I haven’t seen Red Polls or Pine Siskins or Towhees, either. I stumbled upon this 2016 article today by Nat Wheelwright “Bird by Bird, The Avian Population is Shrinking” Nat Wheelwright is the Bowdoin Professor of Natural Sciences and Chair of the Biology Department. He notes:

Earlier this summer, the National Audubon Society released a definitive study of population trends of North American birds, a monumental effort based on decades of Christmas bird counts and breeding bird surveys. The study confirms what my grandfather feared and what most of us now know. Birds that I used to see routinely growing up in New England – evening grosbeaks, eastern meadowlarks, northern bobwhites – are in free fall. The losses are mind-boggling.

There are still large flocks of Evening Grosbeaks in the North, but not in Southern New Hampshire, or coastal Maine. One reason may be that Southern states managed to defeat the Spruce Bud Worm, whose grubs are a favorite food for Evening Grosbeaks.

Other birds I haven’t seen are Eastern Towhees (which used to be called Rufous-Sided Towhees), Redpolls, and and Pine Siskins; all of which are no longer common in New Hampshire or Maine.

 

Juncos

Technically, Juncos are members of the Sparrow family; and they do share some Sparrow characteristics. They’re one of the New England winter birds I was accustomed to seeing as a child, sometimes feeding from the platform feeder, but most commonly, gleaning seeds on the ground. The official name for the local variety in Maine is Dark-Eyed Junco (Junco hyemalis). But if you look at older bird guides or compare more modern field guides, you’ll note that there’s a fair amount of variation in coloration. As a child, I remember the New England form being called a Slate-colored Junco. They were Winter birds, arrive with the first snowfall, and leaving before the Crocus bloomed.

Here in Maine, they still favor the ground, but they also use the tube-feeders, enjoying both finch mix and black-oil sunflower. They still have the definitely pink feet and beaks I remember as a child. They spent a fair amount of time last week during the storm sheltering in the shrubbery, and yesterday, I took some pictures of one sitting in the Rhododendron:

Junco_02Junco_03

The Juncos in Washington and California look quite different from Maine Juncos:

small_dark_eyed_junco

Dark-eyed Junco; Puget Sound, WA

 

Junco

Older bird guides sometimes call this variety with its distinct darker “hood” and rusty brown on the top an “Oregon Junco.” Some individuals are much more strikingly colored, with a very dark head and a very brown body.

Birds in Snow

I confess that when there’s a big snow storm like this one, I look forward enormously to spotting the birds. Today was a good bird day. Lots of birds took shelter in the hedges next to the windows, and I managed to entice some to feed from the window still, and even my hand. I have lost the knack of taking pictures while hand-feeding, alas, but I some ideas about making that easier.  I saw Juncos, Black-capped chickadees, an unknown sparrow variety, American Goldfinches, Tufted Titmice, and male and female cardinals. More importantly, while the snow was falling and they were sheltering in snow-covered rhododendrons, I heard them singing, not just calling or bragging about finding food. Spring is tangentially here, despite the snow.

IMG_1684

American Goldfinch in Winter plumage; I think it’s a male.

IMG_1706IMG_1704IMG_1703IMG_1702IMG_1701IMG_1690IMG_2657IMG_2651

About 12”

It was still snowing when I took these, and it’s still snowing now; large, wet flakes.

 

IMG_2643IMG_2642IMG_2641IMG_2638IMG_2637

IMG_1678

Six hours later, and it’s still snowing.

IMG_2660IMG_1711

Waiting for the Snow

Birds have been scarce today, as if they too were waiting for the storm. I’ve filled the feeders, spotted a few sparrows of unknown type, and these guys:

Mourning Dove

Mourning Dove (Zenaida macroura). When I hear them call, I know it’s Spring.

chickadee

Black-capped Chickadee waiting for the snow.

Male Northern Cardinal

I actually took male Northern Cardinal photo this yesterday.

Nor’ Easter Incoming

Starting tomorrow afternoon, Wednesday, and bringing snow and wind from about noon Wednesday to late Thursday. I’m smack-dab-in-the-middle of coastal Maine and the 12” to 18” inches.

28783684_1663563623727954_2476665312577264035_n