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.

Feral Foreigners

Birds are incredibly adaptable species, a fact I witnessed firsthand during a recent visit to San Francisco. Not only is the city alive and vibrant with its human residents, but it is also home to an astonishing colony of feral parrots, the Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill.

The first night of our visit, my husband and I were walking through the bold skyscrapers of the financial district, heading toward the Embarcadero and the Ferry Building. As we approached a small park near the waterfront, we were assaulted with a wild screeching, a cacophany of sound that clearly wasn't human. Nor was it originating from the pigeons and mallard ducks calmly browsing along the manicured lawn. Intrigued, we crossed into the park and were startled to see what appeared to be a mass of angry leaves, so perfectly did the birds blend into their surroundings. As we observed them, we discovered a tremendous flock of parrots with brilliant green plumage, bright red caps, and creamy yellow bills.

Our visit was cut short; after a quick photograph or two, it was clear that these parrots were exceedingly territorial and did not appreciate guests in what I would later discover was their roosting ground. Further research revealed that these were cherry-headed conures and a variety of interbred parrot species initially native to Ecuador and Peru. The birds had been imported in large numbers as exotic pets, but their loud, raucous voices and impatient mannerisms make poor companions and many birds were released by frustrated owners. Over the years (importing these tropical birds is now heavily restricted), the released birds gathered and flocked near Telegraph Hill, a region of the city rich in lush foliage and abundant food sources. The flock has grown and interbred, and today they are firmly established as somewhat unique residents of the city.

While they are a marvel to watch and hear for residents and visitors of San Francisco, this is also a clear lesson on the dangers of choosing birds as pets without fully understanding their habitat and behavioral needs. It is wonderful to feed the birds, but interfering with their natural lives should never be condoned.

For more information on the Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill, I highly recommend the book and film of the same name, as well as information posted by the book's author, Mark Bittner.

Motion Blur

In a brief burst of hovering, at least two hummingbirds have returned to our backyard. The nectar feeder has been out for a short period of time and it is not frequently visited by a somewhat anonymous friend who is both camera shy and frustratingly devoid of identifying features. While I have been able to snap his picture with a wingstroke of luck, one distant shot only shows his baleful glare amid of a fluff of gossamer white and green feathers, and the other, while a delightful close up, is on such a cloudy day that no light source is available to give me better odds of learning his true identity. My best guess is that he may be a Calliope Hummingbird, the smallest bird in North America and not unknown in this region, but he may also be a fledgling of several hummingbird varieties, and thus the indentification difficulties.

He is a bizarre puff of feathers, however. Last summer, the hummingbirds who regularly visited sipped well at the feeder but rarely stayed on the property beyond using it as a fruit-flavored bar. This new friend is hesitated at the feeder but will perch in the nearby tree for long periods while he scopes out the vicinity. Should he spot anyone other than a fellow avian nearby, he is gone in a burst of wingbeats.

Being nestled between mountain ranges, Utah does not get as many hummingbirds in spring and early summer as will visit in later summer and fall. This is because many of the migratory paths of these tiny birds take them north along the Pacific Coast, while their autumnal routes are more inland and hence through Utah. By August, I should see a great number of hummingbirds in clearly identifiable plumage visiting the yard.

Bread and Quackers

I know an anomaly in my Confirmed Backyard Species list is the Mallard Duck; though a common bird, they're not typically found in urban backyards. Our neighbors, however, have a stunning pond complete with a rock waterfall, koi, and aquatic plants, and just a few blocks away is a reservoir canal that drains from the mountains. These water sources successfully attract ducks, and now they've ventured into our backyard as well.

We actually first had the hen visit last year, when she was raising ducklings in an abandoned yard to the west of our backyard. The pond is in the yard to the east, and our yard was a convenient thoroughfare -- at least initially. Because of the fence construction and garden area (both landscaping projects that will be changed), the ducklings last spring were able to enter our yard but became lost and bewildered when they couldn't get back up into the elevated garden to return to the safety of their nest. Squeaking and scattering, they roamed the yard as my husband and I gently rounded them up and gave them a helping boost back to the section of fence they could scurry under.

There have been no ducklings yet this year, but both the hen and the drake have become regular visitors foraging beneath the platform feeder in search of seeds. As honored guests, I also treat them to regular bread handouts -- which now they seem to expect rather vehemently, and the hen will peek boldly through the patio door in search of such deliciousness. The cool shade of the house has also become a favored resting spot on occasion, and I've recently put out a saucer bird bath to allow them to sip demurely whenever desired.

It is fascinating to have such varied visitors, even with no more than two still bird baths in the yard to attract superb swimmers. I will be watching for the ducklings, hoping they appear, but even if the pair opts to keep them better hidden this year, the visits from the two ducks -- as well as an additional hen who also uses her deep, brown eyes to entreat my heart for handouts (and yes, she gets them too) -- has been a rare wonder and a welcome addition to my varied flocks.

Definition of a Backyard

With the sighting of another new visitor -- a boldly colored male Western Tanager in his vibrant breeding plumage -- I'm coming to question the definition of where, precisely, the boundaries of one's backyard are. This bird, for example, did not alight within the invisible property lines that border my backyard. Instead, several of the birds perched in a tree in an adjacent yard, barely across the fence and easily visible from both the upstairs and downstairs windows where I sought a better view. The bold red head, brilliant yellow body, and strong black wings with thick markings made identification easy, yet still, were the birds truly in the backyard?

So what, then, defines a backyard for birding purposes? At first, one might say feeding. If a bird regularly stops for a bite, it could be considered a proper addition to a backyard roll call. But what of the Cooper's hawk? I've yet to spot him having a quick munch in the yard, yet he's a regular visitor, perching on the fence as he calculates the likelihood of his next meal coming from the smaller birds who regularly visit my feeders.

Frequency might be another determining factor. Migrating birds, then, pose special challenges as they may only be seen for a few days each year as they pass by on their way to breeding grounds or winter homes. The dark eyed juncos, for example, have moved on to their more northern homes and won't return for months, if they even recall this small sanctuary. Yet I would say that they, too, are legitimate backyard birds even if they aren't always evident.

At this time, I'm considering the western tanagers to have been a fleeting visit and a wild confirmation rather than a positive backyard sighting, yet I'll keep a keen watch for them in the coming days and they may even be pleased to find dried and fresh fruit in my feeders to help tempt them to a longer stay.