It was another foggy, soggy morning; fairly standard for this summer. It hadn’t rained during the night, but the temperature had remained at about 70 degrees Fahrenheit and the relative humidity was up near 100%. When I finally opened my eyes and peeked out the window, my entire back yard was lost in a thick blanket of fog.
It was 6:00 a.m. and I was weighing the idea of going down to the Thinking Chair. Would there be anything new to see, or would the fog preclude any photography because of the gloom? To me, the only logical course of action was to get myself some coffee and mull it over while I tried to shake the sand out of my eyes. So, with coffee procured, I settled into a comfortable spot and started a little research.
There is a website called BirdCast, which is run by Cornell University in cooperation with University of Massachusetts Amherst. This website features a wonderful tool for anyone interested in birding, or interested in the migratory movements of birds. Utilizing weather radar installations across the U.S., it produces a moving map of bird movements during the night. You are also provided with an estimate of how many birds are actually aloft in 15-minute intervals. It is an amazing resource and a daily check can reveal some interesting data.
Last week, when we had rain across southern New England, there was a very strong line across the map that showed migration out of Canada, but stopping short in northern New England. Two days later, when the storm had finally cleared, the birds could be seen pouring south out of Canada all the way down to Georgia. This information compelled me to get down to the meadow, so I sleepily donned my field clothes and headed down the hill.
All of the tall grasses were covered with dew and every spider web was bejeweled with droplets of water. There was no direct sunlight and this made all of the colors especially rich. There was also an intimate feel to the morning. I felt like I was sharing secrets with all of the birds that came to visit.
Even the black-capped chickadees who regularly landed on my head seemed a little more interested in ferreting out secrets on that particular morning. More than once a chickadee landed on my shoulder and seemed genuinely interested in what I was doing.
BirdCast had suggested that there might be some migrants from Canada who had arrived during the night, but I didn’t see a single feather that I didn’t recognize. All of the “regulars” were present and accounted for and I found it easy to start to doze. The foggy meadow was warm enough to have a host of crickets alive and singing and the dim light combined with the steady trilling of crickets certainly made sleep a very attractive idea. But then I heard a “cricket” that sounded just a bit off.
Coming from behind me and a little louder than the other insects, I kept hearing a “zeee, zeee” call.
When it moved I had a pretty good idea that it wasn’t an insect at all, but exactly what it might be was still a mystery. So, I implored the Nikonus and Iso (the photography gods) for a little help. “Send whatever that is in my direction,” I muttered. My plea was answered instantly.
From my right came a song sparrow (Melospiza melodia) and right behind it was another. This is not unusual as song sparrows seem to spend a lot of time chasing one another around the meadow, but this second bird was clearly not behaving like an adult. The pursuit lacked any sort of aggression and it quickly turned out to be a fledgling following its parent. Now, with the young bird right in front of me, I could see the bird making the crickety “zeee, zeee” call. But it only got better from there.
The parent was clearly a bit stressed. “How do I feed this kid and get it to quiet down?” Well, that question was answered as soon as the parent bird stumbled upon the little pile of birdseed that I had dropped on a bare patch of ground on the path that I maintain. Pick up a seed, carry it to the insistent and hungry offspring. Again and again this happened until, not satisfied, the fledgling followed the parent to the ground right in front of me. Suddenly, the “regular” birds had become superstars and I was able to capture the moment when an adult bird gently placed some food in the mouth of its hungry baby. Any parent who has delivered a spoonful of food into an infant’s mouth will instantly relate to this parent bird. It was a tender moment to witness.
There is about one month of summer left and although many birds have finished their parenting duties, some of our backyard regulars are working on a second batch of offspring. The birds are quiet in the sense that they are not singing to defend territories, but they are still busy preparing themselves for either migration, or hunkering down for the coming winter. Keep your eyes open for interesting bird activity … if the crickets don’t hypnotize you and put you to sleep.
Bill Danielson has been a professional writer and nature photographer for 26 years. He has worked for the National Park Service, the US Forest Service, the Nature Conservancy and the Massachusetts State Parks and he currently teaches high school biology and physics. For more in formation visit his website at www.speakingofnature.com, or go to Speaking of Nature on Facebook.