Hawk Revealed

Thanks to generous assistance both from CapeCodAlan and now Bill Fenimore, a well-respected Utah birder and owner of the Wild Bird store in Layton, my accipiter visitor has been throughly identified as a sharp shinned hawk. Some tidbits about this graceful bird of prey:

• They feed by catching other birds on the wing.
• They have quite thin legs, sometimes described as "pencil thin."
• While they do migrate in other states, they are year-round residents in Utah.
• They are the smallest of the accipiter family.
• Their rounded wings and long tail make them extremely agile.

I hope to see him again soon, now that I know well what details to check, and with camera in hand to capture his poise and beauty. He's a rare treat, all the better for familiarity.

Who's the Hawk?

I have recently been paid a pair of puzzling visits by an as-yet-unknown hawk. He looks like he could be either a sharp shinned or a Cooper's hawk, but the two are so similar that identification is gravely challenging (see this lovely comparison by Project Feederwatch). At first glance he bears characteristics similar to both hawks, and it's maddening trying to ascertain which he really is. The only positive characteristic I can note is age; he has lighter colored, nearly yellow eyes, which according to CapeCodAlan of ebirdseed.com, indicates the bird is a juvenile.

His behavior also indicates inexperience. Twice in the past two weeks he has arrived with great fanfare at our backyard feeders, but neither time has he been successful in securing a meal. The first time he landed near the hopper feeder and waited there for a minute or two, stretching his wings and looking about as if wondering where the buffet had disappeared to. The second time, just this past weekend, I went to our patio doors to look out at the yard and he was perched on the platform feeder we keep just a few inches from the house. He stayed there for a period, eyeing me with caution but not concern.

Unfortunately, I have no superb pictures by which to determine a clear identification. I am wondering if indeed this is the same bird -- I believe so, but the first to visit may have been larger. CapeCodAlan believes he may be a sharp shinned hawk, and any fellow birders who have leads as to his identity are welcome to chime in; I'd love to know for certain who is preying in the backyard.

Which brings up the question of welcome. To some backyard birders, these birds of prey are most unwelcome -- our neighbors would prefer to chase him away when he frightens the smaller species. To me, however, it is a rare treat and privilege to have this unusual visitor grace my yard. And if, in doing so, smaller birds fall victim to his dives, then that too is a type of backyard birdfeeding. Perhaps not what I'd intended when refilling the seed feeders, but it is all part of the migration of life I'm happy to be a part of.

Jammin' About Jays

One of my very favorite bird species is also a very colorful backyard visitor: western scrub jays. Not only is their bright blue plumage with gray markings a vibrant addition to the backyard rainbow, but their stubborn and insistent personalities add colorful comedy to the regular interactions of all the species who regularly dine at my feeders.

Take this year's scrub jay family, for example. One has a rather noticeable white spot on its crown and is absolutely bold, not minding to come within inches of me as he seeks a favorite treat. Another, with a beak rather thicker than his cohorts, has a raucous call several decibels above what you'd normally hear in the backyard. Another has scruffier plumage and tends to be more reticent about approaching a feeder, particularly when a sibling is present. Each of these birds interacts in a characteristic way, often chasing one another or slyly secreting their cache in one spot while a sibling cleverly pilfers another cache recently stowed.

And their preferred foods? Peanuts, of course. Whole, in the shell nuts never last long in the small terra cotta dish I've dedicated as a peanut feeder. I buy a new bag of nuts (mine are roasted and salted as being the least expensive and most readily available, and they certainly don't mind) nearly every week, but if they aren't out on the table in the early morning or late afternoon I will certainly hear about it with screeches and angry calls. They're also apt to call if there aren't enough peanuts in the dish, though when a half dozen or more jays are scrambling to claim their share of the bounty, even a large handful doesn't last long. If the peanuts are not forthcoming, seeds from the platform feeder will do, but I've learned just how favored peanuts truly are -- once, seeing a scrub jay scrabbling around in the feeder to load up on seeds, I hurried to put out a handful of peanuts. He was grateful, and indeed he flew right over to the patio table to choose a choice nut. Before selecting a nut, however, he bent over and spit out all the seeds he'd just taken from the feeder, squawked at me (a reprimand for not having peanuts available in the first place?), and flew off with a nut. I guess jays don't have the best table manners.

One cannot doubt their intelligence, however. The jays that frequent my backyard have learned to recognize me and they're also familiar with the peanut replenishment schedule. If I'm out on the patio - usually typing away - and there are not peanuts to be had, one will land on the gutter and softly "murp" at me to remind me that they're not the most patient of birds. I, of course, oblige, proving that I'm perfectly trained and a capable protector of peanuts for a flock of hungry jays.

I wouldn't have it any other way.

Sunny September

Temperatures are falling and gardens are ripening, including a bird garden patch in the backyard. That birds love sunflower seed is no surprise, but while they may enjoy dry seed offered in a feeder, they're positively ecstatic over fresh seeds ripening on the plants. In the spring, I initially planted thirteen sunflower seeds -- simply picked from a random bag of birdseed -- and with regular waterings, eleven of them sprouted and grew into generous plants with multiple seeding flower heads. In addition to the seeds I planted, two more plants grew at the side of the driveway where random seeds blew during summer storms.

The largest heads measures more than twelve inches in diameter and have hundreds of seeds for the birds to enjoy. Because of their weight, the largest heads bow and become virtually unreachable, even for the most agile birds. To offer them as special treats, every few days I clip off the flowers and set them on the concrete wall so the birds can easily access them. It certainly doesn't take long for them to discover the heads and strip them as clean as the feeders. House finches, sparrows, and scrub jays have all partaken from the garden, and the smaller birds are particularly adept at finding seeds. In preparation for next spring, I have already chosen the plumpest seeds from one of the largest heads and have stored them in a glass jar in a dry, dark area to keep them safe for future planting.

Growing these sunflowers has an additional benefit for the birds. The plants grow quickly and with enough strength for the birds to land upon them, providing summer cover and shelter among a rich feed source. This is why I've not trimmed the plants and won't until all the seed heads have been removed. For as long as possible, I want the birds to be able to enjoy this autumn bounty of delicious seeds, and they're certainly doing their best to ravish the feast. This is a simple project anyone can do at the side of a flowerbed, in a garden, or even in a planter, and its rewards are generous. The birds can enjoy the bounty, and the birdwatchers enjoy not only beautiful flowers and the company of birds, but also a selection of fresh, free seed to nourish their flocks. The sun may be setting on summer, but it's just rising on the harvest for backyard birders.

Farewell Fluffy

Another tragedy, a very personal one, has struck the backyard, though ironically it is completely unrelated to the window collisions of the past. This summer, we have come to know a particular house finch whom we named Fluffy because of his preference to fluff his feathers at all times. Always smaller than his peers, Fluffy constantly sought the shade and seemed more suseptible to heat and distress than other birds. He would not flit away, and in fact would often sit drowsy and content near the feeders and birdbath. On several occassions, my husband was even able to fill the birdbath while Fluffy sat quietly in the shower, enjoying the wet.

This afternoon, after speaking to Fluffy and gently touching his feathers - which he permitted in his quiet way - I was forced to say goodbye to him. He'd flown up to the roof and nestled beneath the eaves of a window, again in the shade, but several minutes later he fell from the roof onto the patio. I was with him as he died, and we've taken care that no predators will benefit from his passing.

It is unfortunate that the birds we can most easily identify as individuals are also those who have the least likely odds of survival. Their charming characteristics often come from bizarre behavior, unnatural colorations, or other genetic aberrations that ultimately make them more vulnerable to predation and natural selection - Fluffy undoubtedly had such disorders that made him less able to adapt and react to his surroundings. For a few weeks, however, they bring joy and wonder to our backyards as we grow to know their personalities and observe their behavior, and it is with fondness tinged with inevitable sadness that we remember them. Farewell, Fluffy.

Clinging to Safety

As more and more birds frequent my feeders, the hazards of window collisions with our glass patio doors grow more insidious. To deter such tragic accidents, over the weekend I installed Whispering Pines window clings to the interior surface of the doors. Birds have a wider visual spectrum than humans, and the white clings will appear to them as white materials would to humans under black light -- the bright, glowing white is an unmistakable symbol that this surface is not passable. I chose the leaves pattern so it blends in well with my home and sense of aesthetics, though there are several bird patterns available as well. They are quick and easy to install, and I have already seen two birds -- a broad tailed hummingbird and a house finch -- flying toward the window yet veer away as they noticed the clings. Should this simple addition to my backyard bird habitat prevent even a single bird's demise, it is an investment well worthwhile.

There are, of course, other options to deter birds from hitting windows and glass doors, and I use several. The patio furniture is placed in front of one of the doors to minimize airspace where birds could gain enough momentum to cause themselves injury; any barriers like this can be helpful. Feeder placement is also crucial: a feeder or birdbath should ideally be placed no more than three feet from a window or glass door, or if it is further in the yard, it should be at least twelve feet away (further is better). The former placement restricts how much speed birds can gain before they would accidentally hit a window, and the latter placement gives them enough room to manuever and avoid obstacles once they are in flight.

I highly encourage all backyard birders to invest in some method of control to reduce window collisions and needless bird injuries; these simple adaptations can help save the lives of our avian friends.

A Diversity of Guests

Two new visitors have made fleeting appearances at the hopper feeder's catch platform in the past few days. The first, several days ago, was a vibrant black headed grosbeak, easily identifiable by his distinctive orange hue, bold white markings, and characteristically scruffy appearance. While he did not linger, I was also able to distinguish his unusual bill shape and his fondness for cracking seeds with it. I am particularly thrilled at his visit because I'd hoped to attract an orange bird this summer, for no real reason other than they seem more vibrant yet less common at many backyard feeders in this area. Certainly the house finches with their orange color variants are a pleasant addition to my avian rainbow, but the black headed grosbeak is a truly orange species.

The second new visitor was even more fleeting, but for a few moments as I sat working at our patio table, I heard a hauntingly familiar stacatto call and moments later a black capped chickadee flitted to the feeder and snuck a few bites before flittering away. I haven't heard that call in years, for while these small yet hyper birds were common in the north woods where I frequently spend childhood summers, they are absent from the southeast where I lived for several years. I have seen them on some walks here in Utah, and I'm thrilled to have one as a guest at my backyard feeder, however brief the visit.

Migrations and Mutations

As most birds eventually migrate, so too have I for the past two months. While I returned to an earlier nesting ground of my own, I was able to observe many different species with vastly different behavioral patterns than those that flit through my backyard from time to time.

I saw a rare treat, an albino sparrow with creamy yellow coloring. Another sparrow conspicuously lacked a tail but had no trouble surviving on the richly abundant food sources available -- though I doubt they were the same nutritious fare that their wilder cousins would dine upon. I saw different species of birds take advantage of fountains, waterfalls, and lagoons to keep cool in the relentless summer heat. During nesting periods, birds of all species fiercely defended the territory they had deemed their own, regardless of the constant intrusions (and woe upon us whose necessary attire was mistaken for aggression). Fearless enthusiasm was rampant both among the birds and the humans who unwittingly increased their food supply through casual discards of fries, breads, and crackers.

Naturally, these birds and their antics are not part of my typical backyard observations, though I have enjoyed comparing the differences between the more aggressive, decadently fed birds in a less wild atmosphere and the equally entertaining birds that thrive in my growing sanctuary. While they are different species separated by hundreds of miles, the joy and determination they all find in life is identical. At times we all need a migration out of the ordinary to appreciate that.