A Walk on the Wild Side

One of the benefits of having woods as part of my property, and being located next to a few hundred acres of forested county park--is the diversity of wildlife I am privileged to meet or simply observe.

I have more than a dozen birdfeeders in my back yard, but not all birds like to feast at feeders. Many prefer the seclusion of the forest, or prefer the menu available there. 

In addition, a few small streams flow through the woods, providing water not just for drinking, but as an environment for amphibious creatures.

In recent walks through the woods, I've met some of my forest neighbors. I'll introduce you...

At first, you might not actually see the residents of the forest, but they leave signs that let you know they were there.

A deer print in the mud.

A trail shows where the deer tend to walk.

Usually they see you before you see them.

Three deer peer at me from afar. The color of their coats blends in with grey and tan of the trees.

I'm in their neighborhood. I'm the intruder.

Sometimes you hear them before you see them. Birdsong fills the forest; you need a sharp eye to catch a glimpse of some of the more shy species.

When I think of robins, I think of wide green lawns. But their calls (which remind me of a high-pitched laugh) seem to come from everywhere in the woods.

A tufted titmouse takes a break on a low branch.

I'm pretty sure this was the work of a particular bird: the very large Pileated Woodpecker.

And sure enough, she makes an appearance. I can tell this is a female Pileated because a male would have a red stripe on his face--above his "mustache."

Sometimes the creatures are there, right in front of you, but easy to overlook.

An ant drags a prize along a fallen tree trunk. I think it is a bird dropping; not much is wasted in the finely balanced ecosystem of the forest.

I was staring at this frog for several minutes before I saw him, blending in among the aquatic plants and rocks in the stream.

Once you see one frog, others seem to appear out of nowhere.

And, as always, there is some representative of the greeting committee to welcome me back to the yard.

Tucker sticks his nose through the fence.

Every time I walk in the forest, I find something new. The light changes, new plants bloom. Nests and dens are built, and babies born. This is why I live near the woods.

For the Birds

I like watching birds--though I'm not a bird watcher.

To explain: I'm not the kind of person who goes on birding treks to find exotic species. Instead, what I really enjoy is sitting in my family room--or outside when it's warm--and just simply watching birds.  To paraphrase Opus the penguin, I'm talking about "plain Jane, home grown, bare bone, two-part, Kmart, no frills flappers." Generic birds that don't mind hanging out in my back yard.

Some folks like to keep an aquarium and to watch the multicolored fishies swim 'round and 'round; I enjoy looking at pretty birdies as they fly, hop, flit, jump, eat, drink, bathe and fluff their feathers. I love watching them build their nests. I love watching them court, whether by singing a special song, offering gifts of food, or pecking on our gutters first thing in the morning. (Though Corinne hated that when she lived here, as the gutter of choice was by her bedroom, and mere inches from her head as she slept--make that attempted to sleep--in her loft bed. )

I love watching birds choose a nest site, move into our bird houses and set up housekeeping. I love watching them bring their young ones around in the spring. I love watching the "teenagers" still beg for food from their harassed parents.

At any one time, I may have as many as a dozen different types of bird feeders stationed around my patio. I could sit and watch my winged visitors for a very long time. Though Dawn and Athena could probably watch even longer. The window is like Kitty TV for them, always tuned to their favorite channel.

Athena and Dawn watchin' birdies.

From the inside, looking out.

Lilah and Tucker are also bird watchers. Though I think Tucker is more interested in the squirrels.

I am also a fan of the Cornell Lab of Ornithology, and have in the past participated in their Project Feederwatch, as a citizen scientist, counting the birds that have visited my yard through the fall and winter. Every year in February, the lab also supports the Great Backyard Bird Count, where, along with other organizations, they encourage anyone who can to simply count the different bird species that visit their backyards. As little as 15 minutes of bird watching is all you need to contribute. (Though I'm sure more is appreciated.)

The information participants gather is pulled together and analyzed to help scientists understand all kinds of things about our feathered friends. And I'm happy to help.

So, in honor of the GBBC that will be held this upcoming weekend, February 17 to 20, here are a few pictures of some of the birds I've seen at my feeders this winter.

Male and female house finches belly up to the bar to feed on shelled sunflower seeds.

A male Downy Woodpecker (you can tell he's a guy by the red spot on his head) hangs out on branch.

Nuthatches tend to skitter down a tree trunk head first. This white-breasted nuthatch is feasting on suet, which also attracts woodpeckers.

A yellow-shafted northern flicker--a type of woodpecker--sits on the ground below the suet feeder, pondering his next move.

Woodpeckers also eat seeds, like this red-bellied woodpecker who, along with a gold finch, is enjoying a sunflower seed snack.

Northern cardinals--a familiar sight in many northeast US birdfeeders--really like this type of feeder, as they prefer to feed head-on, facing the food. A house finch has his back to the camera.

A duller-colored female cardinal eyes the sunflower seeds spread out before her--sure to chose just the right one.

Unfortunately, it's not just featured creatures who like sunflowers--and I often have to devise ways to discourage the squirrely thieves who eat way too much.

While some of our feeders are squirrel proof, this one is not. Birds that like to eat from the ground--or on flat surfaces--love this hanging seed tray, so I make sure there is enough food for feathered and furry diners.

Many beaks--in this case all house finches--can sup at this feeder at the same time.

One of my favorite feeders, this one is made from old traffic light lenses. Female house finches dine beneath a green roof--that used to mean "Go."

Gold finches, wearing their dull winter dress, love this squirrel-proof feeder. And it truly is squirrel proof; anything heavier than a cardinal will cause those little perches to tip down. And squirrels are definitely heavier than cardinals, as they all learn when dumped unceremoniously on the ground. Some squirrels need a few lessons to really get it.

Blue jays are one of the few birds large enough--and sassy enough--to chase away the squirrels. Most of the other birds, too, will give way when they hear the noisy squawks as they come in for a landing. Jays will also harass any birds of prey that come by; mobbing the predators until they leave.

It's difficult to get a picture of a tufted titmouse on a feeder. These birds always grab a seed and quickly fly to a branch where they eat it.

Black-capped chickadees are tiny birds with a distinctive call that gives them their name.

A trio of mourning doves huddles on my garden wall, facing into the wind. When it snows, I often spread seeds there for the ground feeders.

Lots of sparrows come to visit, particularly after a snowfall. They can be a little tricky to tell apart. This one is a song sparrow; the black spot and streaky breast are clues.

A white-throated sparrow grabs a seed that has fallen from one of the feeders.

A ground feeder like the sparrows, the dark-eyed junco is also a common eastern visitor.

Though this little Carolina wren looks a little irritated, he's probably quite happy to eat the seeds scattered on my patio.

Even though it's still officially winter, you can tell spring is around the corner when the Canada geese start to fly north.

Another sure sign is the sighting of an American robin, this one taking a drink from a puddle on my table cover.

As the weather starts to turn warmer and the days get longer, fewer winter birds appear at my feeders; the spring and summer species begin to show up. The first songs of spring come bursting forth in the morning. Male goldfinches trade in their dull feathers for their dress-up bright yellow. Woodpeckers knock against our gutters, making as much noise as possible in the hopes of attracting a mate and scaring off competitors with the size of their sound. Hopefully, a few birds will like one of the birdhouses we've placed around our yard--and maybe they'll move in.

And I'll be enjoying the show.

Hum along with me

They are tiny, irredescent acrobats. Their smallness inspires the casual observer to think "adorable" and "delicate." But they are bellicose warriors of the sky, extremely territorial, and capable of putting on an aeronautic display to rival the dogfights of World War II pilots.

A juvenile hummingbird flies past a butterfly bush.

Hummingbirds are incredible creatures, the only birds capable of flying backwards, with wings that beat so fast (more than 50 beats per second in the case of the ruby-throated) that they are invisible to the human eye when the birds fly. You often hear one before you see one: a loud hum that brings to mind the buzz of potenially huge bumblebee. Hummers have long, thin beaks with specialized tongues; though you might think they suck up the nectar like humans might suck up the ambrosia of a rootbeer float, their tongues instead trap their liquid food and delivers it back into their mouths.  (A set of great videos on physorg.com show how it's done--in slow motion.)

A juvenile hummingbird shows off the long beak it needs to reach nectar. You can tell it's not an adult by the "5 o'clock shadow"--dark stippled feathers on its neck.

Flower power
In September of 2004, about a month after we moved into our house on the first ridge of the Watchung mountains here in New Jersey, we saw our first hummer. This poor guy mistakenly thought the fuschia-colored flowers on our patio umbrella were the hummingbird equivalent of an all-you-can-eat buffet. He eventually realized it was all a sham, but we were thrilled, because we knew hummingbirds were in the area, and we might be able to see more of these little creatures.

A female hummer is looking to feed on the flowers in a hanging basket.

Rest stop on the New Jersey flyway
Over the years since then, we've learned a lot about hummingbirds. First of all, it's important to put out their special feeders before the first individual of this migratory species flies through in the spring. There are maps available online that tell you when the first wave of hummers are likely to appear in your area; ruby throated hummingbirds start showing up in our neck of the woods around April 1. The males--whose iridescent throat feathers give the species its name--show up first, with the females coming by a few weeks later.

A male ruby-throated hummingbird shows off the iridescent jewel-toned feathers that give the species its name.

I set out my feeders in mid to late March--just in case someone shows up unfashionably early, but I usually don't see the birds until a week or two into April. Hummingbird websites will tell you that if you put the feeders out early enough--and make sure they are clean and full--you may get a few birds to stop by and perhaps stay in the area, instead of continuing their migration and heading further north.

This female shows the  more subtle colors of her gender.

Attracting attention
I've also learned that hummingbirds are somewhat picky about the feeders they like. My husband bought me a beautiful brass and glass feeder, but the birds flew by it like my dad driving by McDonald's on the way to Le Bec Fin--with nary a show of interest. I tried putting fake flowers on it, and painting the feeder ports bright red, but even though our first hummingbird visitor was interested enough to try to feed from those two dimensional images on the umbrella, no hummers took the slightest interest in my pretty feeder.

A little bit of research later, and I found a bright red, somewhat tacky-looking feeder made by Perky Pet. (I have since found these in many places both online and in brick-and-mortar stores.) The reviews were nothing short of spectacular. Not only did this feeder attract the birds, but it was easy to clean because the nectar container was made of glass--an important quality as hummingbird nectar is an ideal medium for mold, and thus the feeders have to be regularly cleaned out. And it featured perches at each of its feeder ports, which supposedly makes it even more attractive; like getting a seat at a table instead of standing at the bar, it means the birds don't have to use as much energy when they eat. And tiny hummingbirds are all about energy efficiency.

Against my aesthetic and artistic sense, I bought the Tacky Feeder; the reviews held true, and the hummers love it.

A male rests on a perch of the Tacky Feeder, the evening sun turning his ruby throat amber.

On a lark (bird pun!), I also invested in a few window feeders that seemed to have the same qualities as the plastic one, yet were a quite a bit more aesthetically pleasing. Made by Holland Hill, and incorporating simple test tubes (which appealed to my inner scientist), these feeders also attracted the birds, though they seemed to provide a second-rate feeding experience, because the hummers would nearly always start at Tacky Feeder and only come to the window feeders if the food had gone bad or missing, or if another hummer was already feeding there.

A male hovers as he decides whether to dine on a Holland Hill window feeder.

The benefit to me and my family, though, was that the window feeders brought the birds up close and personal, and we could watch them from just a few feet away. And the Holland Hill feeders were simple, pretty, well designed--and easy to clean and fill.

A female demonstrates the benefits of a perch: a relaxed meal.

One might think that with four perches on Tacky Feeder, four birds could easily feed in kumbayah harmony. But, alas, the pretty feathers on these adorable teensy birdies are window dressing on fierce and quite territorial creatures.

I only saw this only once: two birds at the feeder simultaneously. Because they were on opposite sides of the feeder, I don't think they saw each other at first. The guy on the left seems to be stretching his neck out in realization that someone was breaking the rules.

Bird dogfighting
Often, in between drinks at the Tacky Feeder bar, a bird would sit on top of the shepherd's hook from which the feeder hung. The hummer would chase any and all other fliers away, proclaiming this as his--or her--feeder.  I'd watch in fascination as the birds would zip and zoom through the air, dive bombing each other and literally battling with their beaks as they flew. You could hear the humming of their wings and the clacking of their beaks as they fought in flight. The victor would return to sit atop the shepherd's hook. The vanquished would sit on a tiny branch in my maple tree, planning his or her next attack.

Though I wasn't able to catch a hummer sitting on top of the shepherd's hook, this one may have been heading there. Maybe next year, I'll catch one on guard duty.

The photographer in me really wanted to try to capture these fast-moving birds, and throughout the season, I would keep my camera close by. Necessities for this endeavor included a telephoto zoom lens, a very fast shutter speed, a continuous shooting setting, a steady arm--and lots of patience.

This bird's tail feathers are spread in an effort to slow down as it comes in for a landing.

Hummingbird wings beat so fast that many of the pictures I took were either out of focus, or the blur of the wings covered up the faces or bodies of the birds. I took hundreds of photos, choosing a few
favorites for this post.

Having just landed, this hummingbirds wings slowed down enough for me to capture them in the image.

Here we are now in mid October, and I think the last of the hummers have passed by on their way south; I haven't seen one in about two weeks. It's time to take the feeders down, clean them for the winter and put them away--until next spring when I look forward to when these bright aerialists return to the mountaintop.

Caught mid-flight, a hummer sails away.