Of a Feather: When birds become retiring

By BILL CHAISSON
By Bill Chaisson

We are entering a quieter time of the annual cycle of bird watching. As I write this at 6:30 a.m., it is nearly silent outside my window. I hear only the sound of the Lane River, newly flowing after the recent rains, but not a single bird singing or calling. Birds sing to defend their territories and they defend their territories because they are going to raise their contribution to the next generation of their species there. For many species this part of the annual cycle is done.

Some of the larger birds take a little longer to do everything: it takes longer for the eggs to hatch, longer to fledge the young, and longer for them to be independent. I didn’t even know we had ravens here in central Sutton until I heard and then saw one of the parents being followed around by two incredibly noisy young ravens. In addition to their annoying begging cry, the young birds could also be distinguished from the parent bird by more rounded-off crow-like tails. They must develop the longer feathers to form the spade-shape in a partial molt later in the year.

The other species I am noticing is the black-capped chickadee. This is a gregarious and ubiquitous bird during much of the year, but during the nesting season they pair off and become much more retiring. During the past week, I have once again started to hear them calling to each other and moving through the hemlocks in small groups. These may be made up parents and fledglings; I find it difficult to tell the adults from the juveniles in these tiny fast-developing species. Soon enough, the “feeder guild” will reassemble and we will once again see chickadees, titmice, nuthatches and downy woodpeckers wandering through the woods together.

An interesting phenomenon in this part of the country this time of the year is the diaspora of herons and particularly egrets from their more restricted nesting range to a wider area through which they wander seemingly at random, apparently looking for reliable sources of food. A blog called “Our Fine Feathered Friends” by Bryan Stevens keeps track of the birds of northeastern Tennessee. This wandering phase will not begin in earnest until next month (Stevens’s post is dated August 12), but he and his colleagues in that part of the country were delighted by a visit from a tri-colored heron. It breeds along the Gulf and Atlantic coasts north to southern New Jersey but disperses regularly further up the Atlantic coast this time of year as far as southern Maine. For eastern Tennessee it was a rarity.

It is striking to see which species of heron and egret are listed in the “Atlas of Breeding Birds in New Hampshire” (1994) versus the Nuttall Society’s “The Birds of New Hampshire” (2013).

First of all, since 1994 several members of this family have begun breeding either in or quite near southeastern New Hampshire. The snowy egret, for example, now breeds on Appledore Island, just over the state line in Maine, in the Isles of Shoals, and feeds in New Hampshire.

Second, 13 species of heron (including bitterns) are listed in the newer book, which compiles year-round sightings, and only four — American bittern, great blue heron, green heron, and black-crowned night heron — were known to breed in the state in 1994. This has certainly changed. Photographer Jim Block has recently published striking images of least bitterns in the small marsh behind the Price Chopper in West Lebanon, where he was seeing them regularly. The bittern was likely a breeder, but over the coming weeks keep your eye out for exotics like the reddish egret or even a glossy ibis, which nests as far north as Massachusetts. (If you want to be notified of rare bird sightings, join NHBirds online.)

Ruby-throated hummingbirds are fiercely territorial. They may attack other hummingbirds that infringe on their feeding territory. The birds are solitary; they mate and the male departs, leaving the female to raise the young. I have a hummingbird feeder in my backyard and have seen only one bird at a time at it so far, and it was a female.

Now that the breeding season is done, however, I hope that the local birds will relax a little and this female will allow other hummers access to my feeder. Hummingbirds are not considered common in New Hampshire, but they are widespread in the state. They arrive in mid-May when the apple trees are blossoming, and they begin to depart for their Central and South American wintering grounds by mid-August. So, over the coming weeks we have the best chance of seeing multiple birds at our feeders, as they and their young fatten up for the big trip south.

In last week’s column I wrote about the ethics of calling birds to you. I did not mention a technique usually called “pishing.” It is named for the sound you make with your lips and teeth as you push air past them. It does not sound like the call of any particular bird, but many species are attracted to it. Some speculate that it is the sheer oddness of the sound that piques the interest of some birds. At any rate, during the breeding season, it can be an effective way to bring some species out of the foliage and within sight, often quite nearby.

I have noticed that it does not work particularly well in this region. It seems possible that with a large number of birders stalking these woods, the birds have become wise to the sound. Another related technique is to kiss the back of your hand and slowly bend the back of your hand away from your mouth to emit a squeaking sound.

The ethics of pishing are debatable, as it seems to aggravate the birds. At any rate, with their hormone levels falling this time of the year, it will not be very effective until next spring.

Bill Chaisson, who has been a birdwatcher since age 11, is a former editor of the Eagle Times. He now works for the Town of Wilmot and lives in Sutton.