Chimney Swift by Rob Curtis
(theearlybirder.com)

Chimney swifts return to area skies this month

(published 4-17-13)

April is a time of rising anticipation for local birders. We know the best of spring migration is just ahead. Soon the dazzling buntings, grosbeaks, orioles, tanagers and warblers will arrive in numbers, a yearly spectacle that never gets old.

I enjoy the colorful pageant as much as anybody, but this year it’s one particular species I’m looking forward to most. Not a flashy one either, just a little sooty gray bird that most people never notice.

I’d never given much thought to chimney swifts until 2011. That’s when Ray Kotz and Jackie Vernot, a Naperville couple, approached with an extraordinary offer.  Would Cantigny Park, they asked, be interested in a home for swifts?

Ray and Jackie wanted to build a chimney swift “tower” and thought Cantigny, where I work, would be an ideal site.  They know the property well from their participation in the park’s monthly bird walks.

Soon a package arrived from Amazon.com, sent by Ray.  Inside were two books, one about chimney swifts and the other about building swift towers.  The Texas-based authors, Paul and Georgean Kyle, are well known for their work in chimney swift conservation. Their books and website, ChimneySwifts.org, are prime resources for anyone interested in Chateura pelagica.

The chimney swift is a common species that visits our region from late April through mid-October, give or take a few weeks on either end.  It spends the rest of the year in the upper Amazon basin of eastern Peru, northern Chile and northwestern Brazil.

Swifts spend most of their daylight hours in the air, feeding on flying insects.  You can hear their loud “chippering” as they dart about the sky on long swept-back wings.  At night they roost in groups.

Unfortunately, as with many other neotropical migrants, the swift population is declining.  While not classified as a threatened species in Illinois, chimney swift is listed among “Birds of Concern” in the Chicago Wilderness Region.

The swift once relied upon natural habitat for roosting and nesting.  It was primarily a woodland species and favored large hollow trees.  But as America developed, swifts adapted to the urbanized landscape.  Silos, industrial air shafts and brick chimneys became their new haunts.  These days, however, suitable man-made structures are in shorter supply.  Factory smokestacks are demolished, residential chimneys are capped, and new chimneys are often lined with steel, rendering them useless to swifts.

Fortunately, chimney swifts will utilize “artificial” housing, just like purple martins and Eastern bluebirds.  Havens like the one Ray and Jackie were proposing for Cantigny can help.

Well, to make a long story short, the park accepted their generous offer.  Ray and Jackie developed the plans, hired the contractor and paid the bills—a remarkable gift.

If you build it, will they come?
Cantigny Park will find out.

Completed in November, the 15-foot Cantigny swift tower rises from the park’s prairie habitat, near the Idea Garden. The structure includes a display board with facts about the species it is designed to serve.

Now we wait for the birds. It could be weeks or it could be years. With swifts, as with purple martins, all you can really do is find a good site, offer the proper housing and then cross your fingers. 

I know of only two other swift towers in the region and both are still awaiting their first customers. One is located along the Batavia Riverwalk. Dedicated in 2010, the tower aimed to mitigate the loss of Batavia Bowl, which was demolished.  The bowling alley’s large chimney had been a popular roosting site for swifts.

Also in 2010, the McHenry County Conservation District erected a swift tower at Prairieview Education Center in Crystal Lake.

Swift towers provide ample and safe space for dozens of roosting birds. Inside, the swifts cling to the roughly textured walls, facing upward.  Their feet and short tails are specially adapted to this vertical lifestyle.  In fact, swifts are incapable of standing or walking on flat surfaces.

Only one pair of swifts will use a tower to raise a family.  Their shelf-like nest, truly an avian marvel, consists of tiny sticks, held together and fastened to the interior wall by sticky saliva.

I dream of seeing my first chimney swift nest, hopefully inside the new tower at Cantigny Park. More immediately, I’d like to witness the summer spectacle of hundreds or even thousands of swifts entering their evening roost. I’m told it’s like watching dark smoke swirl backwards into a chimney.

Paul and Georgean Kyle, the book authors, refer to chimney swifts as “mysterious” birds. That’s because we almost never see them up close or at rest.  The Kyles solved that issue by installing video equipment inside several swift towers located on their property. They watch the birds on a big screen inside their home!

The rest of us must settle for enjoying the sight and sound of swifts high overhead, and that’s not a bad alternative.  We may not think about chimney swifts very much, but some of us would sure miss them if they were gone.

Copyright 2013 by Jeff Reiter. All rights reserved.

Varied Thrush by Jackie Bowman

Quest for 500th “lifer" ends in Evanston

(published 3-10-13)

So there I was in Miami last month, stalking a middle-class neighborhood with my binoculars, searching for a red-whiskered bulbul. The bulbul is originally from Asia, but despite its non-native status it’s considered a “countable” species by the American Birding Association.

Countable is the key word. I didn’t want the 500th bird on my life list to be questioned by the ornithological records police.

South Florida is loaded with exotic birds bearing tropical pedigrees, many of them escapees from pet stores or zoos. Only a few of the imports, like the bulbul, common myna and spot-breasted oriole, are considered to have self-sustaining wild populations. This means birders can add them to their coveted lists and feel no guilt.

There were lots of birds among the tightly spaced homes across from Baptist Hospital—mockingbirds, monk parakeets and even a loggerhead shrike carrying a small lizard in its bill. An osprey and kingfisher patrolled the little man-made lake. A hummingbird perched on a wire. But I detected no red-whiskered bulbuls.

Back in the rental car, driving to my parents’ home in Key Largo, I had plenty of time to think. Hey, at least I hadn’t been arrested. The streets I’d just finished walking had Crime Watch postings on every block. If there was a sign welcoming binocular-toting birders with pale white legs I missed it.

Soon my thoughts returned to birds, as they usually do. I was still stuck on No. 499, although I hadn’t been for long. When the year began my number was 498. A run to the Chicago lakefront in early January netted a red-throated loon, a bird posted on the Internet and seen by hundreds of other birders, too. For several days it floated close to shore near the Shedd Aquarium. As birders would say, the loon was “cooperative.”

But an even more cooperative rarity would soon arrive. A few days before I left for Florida a varied thrush was spotted in an Evanston backyard. Local reports of this species, an occasional wanderer from the Pacific Northwest, always get my attention. It’s a beautiful bird and closely related to our familiar robin.

I’d hoped to see my first varied thrush last summer, during a trip to Olympic National Park in Washington. That’s where you’d expect to see one, but the species can be secretive, especially in summer. No luck.

Then, in November, a varied thrush was discovered at Morton Arboretum in Lisle. I went there a day or two after the first sighting, reported to the right place and then along with other birders watched a large flock of robins feed on berries for about an hour. Again, no luck.

By the time I returned from Florida the Evanston varied thrush was a genuine sensation. Apparently it really, really liked the backyard on Cleveland Street and the homeowners were perfectly fine with birders stopping by to see it. The yard features multiple feeding stations, all easily observed from the back alley while peering over a neck-high wooden fence. The thrush would periodically visit a platform feeder with sunflower seeds.

Now ask yourself, how many people would tolerate dozens of birders looking into their yard from 50 feet away, pointing their binoculars and long-lens cameras directly toward their home?

Indeed, serious birdwatchers in this region are incredibly lucky that the varied thrush settled where it did. Jason and Judy Kay, the homeowners, welcomed any and all birders.

Jason, who writes a delightful blog called Garden in a City, didn’t know what he had at first. His post on Jan. 27 mentioned a mystery bird and a request for ID assistance. The accompanying photo was clearly a varied thrush and word spread quickly.

Four days later, Kay’s blog entry was titled “The Birders are Coming! The Birders are Coming!” And did they ever. Dozens of them, day after day.

“It has been a good experience,” Kay wrote, “and should you ever find yourself with a rare bird hanging out in your yard, I would urge you to welcome the birders.”

I went to Evanston myself on a raw and rainy Sunday morning, about two weeks after the avian celebrity first arrived. An hour went by, and my toes were going numb as I waited under a golf umbrella, my binoculars pre-focused on the platform feeder. Then, like magic, a male varied thrush appeared, filling my 8x42s. What a beauty! That moment was well worth the 35-mile drive from Glen Ellyn and my cold, lonely vigil in the alley.

I really couldn’t imagine a better bird to claim as No. 500—certainly more meaningful than a red-whiskered bulbul would have been. The “quality” of a milestone bird is important, at least to me.

The varied thrush was still enjoying life on Cleveland Street a full month after the first sighting. It might stay a good while longer. For a rare bird, this one’s about as sticky as they get.

Copyright 2013 by Jeff Reiter. All rights reserved.

Cackling Goose by Nathan Goldberg

Finding feathery needles in haystacks

(published 2-7-13)

A cool thing happened in January when I least expected it. While walking from the Glen Ellyn YMCA to the Walgreen’s next door I noticed that the neighboring water detention area was full of ducks. All mallards was my first impression, and they were clearly enjoying the open water on this unusually warm winter morning. I paused for a moment to count them and then realized there was an imposter. Mixing with the four dozen greenheads was a single American black duck!

Black ducks are not uncommon in DuPage but they are not “everyday” birds either. It was a pleasant surprise to see one so close when just going about my usual routine.

Experienced birders know to expect the unexpected, and that’s a smart way to approach the hobby if you want to see new birds. There might be an uncommon species or even a mega-rarity in our midst but it takes a careful and patient observer to detect it.

Spotting the black duck was easy. The temporary pond was tiny so the birds were in close quarters. And while blackies are closely related to mallards they are not hard to tell apart.

With other waterfowl, that’s not always the case.

Some birders like to examine massive flocks of foraging Canada geese in hopes of finding a cackling goose. I seldom have the patience for this activity but I admire those who do. One such person is my friend Don, from Wheaton, who once pointed out a cackler during a Christmas Bird Count at Cantigny. We were on the golf course and trying to estimate how many Canada geese were grazing on the turf. Don then noticed that one of the birds was notably smaller, with a short neck and stubby little bill. Sure enough, it was a cackling goose—a Canada goose lookalike. It was a new species for my life list and I’m quite sure I’d never have found it on my own.

On the topic of geese, you might have heard about the barnacle goose that turned up in Yorkville last fall. That too was a case of somebody being observant and not assuming a goose flock was “all Canada.” The barnacle was a life bird for many who chased after it once the discovery was reported on the Internet.

If a barnacle goose or a cackling goose is flying with a flock of Canada geese then it would likely go unnoticed. Still, passing V formations of geese are still worth a scan. Occasionally you might notice one goose that is white with black wingtips. What you have then is a snow goose—or possibly even a Ross’s goose, since they look alike from afar.

Flocks of sandhill cranes should be checked carefully, too. Whooping cranes sometimes travel with the sandies and are easy to pick out since they too are white with black wingtips. A few whoopers were witnessed in DuPage last fall.

More than a decade ago I drove to Jasper-Pulaski Wildlife Area in Indiana to see a vagrant common crane—a Eurasian species that rarely visits the United States. The gray bird was mingling with hundreds of sandhill cranes (also gray) way out in a field of corn stubble. How anybody spotted that bird in the first place was a miracle.

Excited birders reported a couple other “needle in a haystack” stories recently at Chicago Botanic Garden in Glencoe. In both cases, the birds involved were far smaller than ducks, geese or cranes.

CBG is well known as perhaps the most reliable place in this region to find common redpolls, a coveted winter finch that favors the birch trees outside the garden’s Regenstein Center. In January, a locally rare hoary redpoll was found mixing with the flock.

I have never seen a hoary. In fact, one could land on my shoe and I’d probably still call it a common. The two species are virtually identical, making this one of the tougher identification challenges in birding.

Birders with far greater skills than me located, confirmed and photographed the female hoary redpoll at CBG last month. This is worth remembering in case you make a run up to Glencoe. And if you only find common redpolls it will be well worth the trip. (They too are hardly “common” around here.)

Another rare winter visitor to watch for at CBG is Bohemian waxwing. Like redpolls, cranes and geese, waxwings are usually seen in flocks. In this region that means cedar waxwings, one of our more beautiful local birds. But every so often a sharp birder will notice that one of the cedars looks a little too chunky. That’s the first clue that it might be something special. Bohemians are also grayer overall than cedars and sport a dark-orange patch under the tail. The undertail coverts on a cedar waxwing are white.

The lesson here is that closely related species often spend time together. When you encounter a group of birds that appears to be of one species, never assume that is the case. Take a few minutes to scan the flock. With luck and patience, you might be rewarded.

Copytight 2013 by Jeff Reiter. All rights reserved.

Fillmore Dryden at McKee Marsh

Birding McKee Marsh, again and again and again

(published 1-8-13)

Now and then I’ll write about a great place to go birding. Less often, I’ll focus on a birder. Today I get to do both.

McKee Marsh in Warrenville and Fillmore Dryden are so closely connected that I can’t think of one without the other. McKee is Dryden’s home away from home, and he’s as comfortable there as the mallards and red-winged blackbirds.

Some call it “patch birding,” the practice of birdwatching in the same location on a regular basis. There is perhaps no better way to learn the local birds—those that live here all year and those that just pass through or visit for a few months. You get a feel for the seasonal birdlife and migration patterns that simply can’t be replicated by less disciplined birding styles.

The only patch birding most of us do is in our own backyards, watching our feeders when we can. It’s a rare individual who thrives on the routine of birding the same place day after day, investing four-hour chunks of observation and walking time. Dryden is that person, and McKee Marsh is his adopted patch.

It’s been a rewarding adoption, thanks largely to McKee’s diverse habitat. The property is the section of Blackwell Forest Preserve located north of Mack Road. Like the name suggests, it’s a marsh, and sizeable wetlands are always a magnet for birds. But the preserve also features open grasslands and woodlands that attract birds not closely associated with water.

Dryden leads occasional walks for the DuPage Birding Club and enjoys showing off the preserve’s avian treasures, including a northern shrike that’s hanging around this winter. I attended his walk in November and was not disappointed. The shrike made an appearance, and so did 32 other species, including American black ducks, gadwalls and a belted kingfisher.

McKee is traditionally a waterfowl hotspot, although not in 2012 due to low water levels. The ducks we observed in November were on the west branch of the DuPage River, not in the marsh.

A Naperville resident, Dryden, 57, was a casual birder until he moved here from Baltimore in 2008. He soon joined the DuPage Birding Club and got serious about the hobby. I know him from the monthly Cantigny Park walks, which he attends regularly and helps lead.

Dryden’s “work” at McKee Marsh started in 2010. It began slowly and quickly intensified. By September of that year he was visiting the site almost daily and keeping meticulous records in a small ring-bound notebook. He’s now on notebook No. 15 and counts 180 species on his all-time McKee Marsh list.

Except for the walks he conducts for the club, most of Dryden’s birding is solitary. McKee, despite its reputation, attracts surprisingly few birders. Getting around the 600-acre preserve on foot is time consuming. Doing it justice requires hiking at least three miles.

“I come out here in the winter and may not see a soul for a week,” Dryden says. Well, at least not other birders.

A hardy contingent of dog-walkers, fitness walkers, joggers and cyclists enjoy McKee’s open spaces, too. Dryden considers them friends, and the feeling is mutual.

“It’s a small community,” he says, “and we kind of look out for each other. That’s a bonus I never expected or even thought about when I started coming here.”

To some McKee regulars he’s just “the bird guy,” and occasionally Dryden finds notes on the windshield of his Subaru. On Thanksgiving Day he found a dinner invitation. In December, a copy of this column appeared.

Dryden’s favorite section of the preserve, Sanctuary Pond and the Catbird Trail, is a long way from his standard parking space. Using his trusty Nikon Monarch 10x42s, he spotted his first black-throated blue warbler there in October.

The 15 little notebooks are full of other memorable sightings. Among them: black tern, northern bobwhite, dickcissel, golden eagle, pileated woodpecker and yellow-breasted chat. In late November, Dryden witnessed his first long-eared owl as it was chased by the resident shrike.

Patch birding goes way beyond listkeeping. As a regular observer, Dryden says, you really get to know the birds—their behaviors, tendencies, field marks, songs and call notes, nesting activities, juvenile plumages, feeding habits, arrival and departure times, and so on.

Every hour in the field—Dryden logged 1,150 of them at McKee in 2012—affords a chance to learn something new or solve a little mystery. The local patch never gets old.

“If you work hard and put the hours in you’re always rewarded here. You never know what you’re going to see.”

Copyright 2013 by Jeff Reiter. All rights reserved.

Bohemian Waxwing by Mark Bowman

2012: A wild and wonderful year for birders

(published 12-18-12)

Local birding stories have been piling up like twigs inside a wren house. November is always prime time for spotting rarities but this year was ridiculous. Birds that almost never visit Chicagoland were popping up all over. Some are likely still in the area, offering potential for more thrills this winter.

Red crossbills, for example, staged a massive invasion on the Morton Arboretum and other venues with large stands of conifers. Until Nov. 2 I’d never seen the species in Illinois. A few days later the Arb produced a varied thrush, a rare visitor from the west. That one I missed.

Evening grosbeaks, Bohemian waxwings and even whooping cranes were spotted in DuPage County in November as well. Amazing!

Speaking of cranes, autumn was unusually quiet until the day after Thanksgiving. The floodgates finally opened on Black Friday as thousands of migrating sandhills filled the skies, providing a timeless natural spectacle with a fabulous soundtrack.

Clues that this would be an exceptional year arrived early. The epic snowy owl irruption that began in late 2011 carried over well into 2012, transcending the birding community. My son and I watched a snowy on the Chicago lakefront on Jan. 7 along with a dozen bystanders who instantly became avid birders, at least for the day.

Winter ended, spring began, and a few snowy owls were in no rush to fly back to their arctic homeland. Remarkably, the species was documented in McHenry County on May 11, the latest sighting ever in Illinois.

Chicago’s Douglas Park hosted the rarest bird of 2012, in April. The second-ever discovery of an elaenia species on American soil created a frenzy like a scene from “The Big Year.” Birders from all over the country arrived as the little brown bird from South America played hide-and-seek for several days. NPR and the CBS Evening News each filed reports.

No question, if you had the time, gas money and motivation to chase down rare species, this was a fine year to be a birder.

My own birding adventures were not nearly enough, they never are, but I definitely had some good moments. Some are described below, along with my traditional year-end compendium of news, notes and random thoughts about the hobby we love.

• I went to Fermilab to see the visiting red-necked grebe on Oct. 27. Nice bird, and possibly the same one I watched from the same spot exactly one year before.

• First-time sightings in the backyard are always exciting. A tufted titmouse on Oct. 25 was No. 112 on my yard list.

• That catbird I wrote about in July, the grape jelly addict, apparently kicked the habit. It stopped coming around in September.

• No kidding, a swallow-tailed kite flew over the Illinois Beach State Park hawkwatch on Sept. 14! Nine days later a ferruginous hawk buzzed the hawkwatchers at Greene Valley in Naperville. Multiple golden eagles and Mississippi kites were observed this fall at both sites.

• Favorite field trip of 2012: A downstate overnighter to see the state’s few remaining greater prairie chickens. Sadly, only 100 or so remain in Illinois.

• Mostly because of that chicken trip I now own and proudly wear a Schaumburg Boomers baseball cap. The team has the best logo and mascot in minor league baseball, or at least the Frontier League.

• Does anybody remember when seeing a coyote during a bird walk was sort of unusual?

• The variety of birds seen annually at Montrose Point on the Chicago lakefront is astounding, in part because so many birders frequent the well-placed sanctuary. Home of the Magic Hedge, Montrose delivered big-time in 2012. Believe it: buff-breasted sandpiper, burrowing owl, cave swallow, scissor-tailed flycatcher, black-legged kittiwake, whimbrel, marbled godwit, western grebe and yellow rail. The wandering tattler at Montrose on Aug. 9 was a first for Illinois.

• Attention eagle fans: 29th Annual Bald Eagle Watch, Jan. 5, in Clinton, Iowa and Fulton, Ill. If that’s too far, try Eagle Watch Weekend at Starved Rock, Jan. 26-27.

• Chicago Botanic Garden is once again The Place to see common redpolls in winter. Check the birches around the Regenstein Center. The current flock is sticky.

• Bobwhite quail were reported this year at St. James Farm and McKee Marsh in Warrenville.

• DuPage County recorded its first barn owl in 30 years. Once common here, barn owls are state-endangered. A pair nested in Naperville.

• Like owls, too? Don’t miss Jerry Goldner’s photo exhibit at Chicago’s Peggy Notebaert Nature Museum. “Owls of Illinois” runs Dec. 22 to Mar. 17. Some of Jerry’s fine images have enhanced this column.

• Since you’re going downtown, stop by the Field Museum to see the newly upgraded Bird Hall.

• Including that barn owl, I added seven birds to my Life List in 2012. My favorite, by a whiskered auklet, was the evening grosbeak at Lake Quinault, Wash.

• I’ll be attending my first Gull Frolic in February. My target bird, a Thayer’s gull, would be lifer No. 499. Did I just jinx myself?

• So I renewed my subscription to WildBird, for two years. About a month later I received a postcard saying the magazine was folding and my subscription would now be for Hobby Farms.

• A lark bunting, the state bird of Colorado, showed off in McHenry County for most of June.

• Nice to see a male wood duck on the 2012-2013 federal duck stamp. Could there possibly be a more spectacular or more photogenic duck species?

• Take a look at the birds of paradise in the current issue of National Geographic. Talk about spectacular. Wow!

• Wild goose chase: A rare barnacle goose, spotted with a group of Canadas in Yorkville, caused excitement in late November. The bird vanished for a few days and then was relocated, again with some Canadian friends and also a Ross’s Goose!

• The DuPage Birding Club conducted its first-ever Big Day competition on June 2. The winning team found 94 species during an 11-hour search. The all-in total was 124 species by seven teams.

• We are not alone: A 2012 report by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service says about one in six Americans enjoy watching and feeding birds. That’s nearly 50 million people.

• Hackmatack National Wildlife Refuge is a go! Development of the 11,000-acre preserve on the Illinois-Wisconsin border was officially authorized in August. I’m there as soon as they cut the ribbon.

• From Birding magazine: “Despite ever-improving optics, many birders are enjoying ‘bare-naked birding’—observing and appreciating birds sans binoculars, scope or camera.” Hmm. Really?

• The bird list at Cantigny Park continues to grow thanks to monthly walks that started in 2008. It’s up to 135 species now, including the bald eagle we scored in June. It pays to keep an eye on the sky!

• Kudos to the Forest Preserve District of DuPage County for launching “Early Birders” at Fullersburg Woods. The pilot program features bird walks for ages 11-17.

• As of Dec. 7, a hummingbird was still visiting a feeder in Rockford—likely a female rufous but not yet confirmed.

• Finally, my personal thanks to the Daily Herald for providing this monthly space and for the paper’s dedication to covering the natural world that’s all around us, in words and pictures. Let’s all get outside a little more often in 2013!

Copyright 2012 by Jeff Reiter. All rights reserved.

Tufted Titmouse by Christian Goers

Around here, tufted titmouse sightings are a rare treat

(published 11-9-12)

When it comes to birding, patience and luck are essential elements. Skill comes in handy but is not required. I’ve said it before: So much of this hobby is simply waiting, watching and being in the right place at the right time.

Yes, it happened again in my backyard. On Oct. 25 a special bird came to visit, one that I’d been hoping for since 1997. I became all giddy, of course, bounding up the stairs to tell my wife and then sharing the news at work with anybody who would listen.

It was a tufted titmouse, a species that even nonbirders seem vaguely aware of because of its fun-to-say name. Even if they’ve never heard of such a creature the name makes people smile.

I grew up with titmice in Ohio and still see them when we go back to Canton. It is by no means a rare bird throughout most of its range—virtually the entire eastern half of the United States. But in the Chicago region it’s tough to find. Sort of like pileated woodpecker—the range maps in our field guides say it’s here but good luck tracking one down!

There’s that word again, luck. I hadn’t put a new bird on my Glen Ellyn yard list since a golden-winged warbler in 2010, and I’d have missed my “yard lifer” titmouse if I hadn’t decided to have a cup of coffee on the back porch.

Our west-facing porch is my favorite room in the house. This time of year the screens are out, replaced by glass, and on most fall mornings the temperature is just right for enjoying a hot beverage and watching the feeders.

The titmouse arrived almost as soon as I sat down, taking a few nibbles at the peanut feeder before moving over to the black-oil sunflower seeds. In two minutes it was gone. As if to say thanks for breakfast, the bird whistled its distinctive “peter, peter, peter” after flying off.

I reported my sighting on the birding listserve and soon learned of other close encounters of the titmousian kind.

The day before, a tufted titmouse had been heard singing on the grounds of Willowbrook Wildlife Center in Glen Ellyn. Four days earlier, Leslie Cummings observed one in her Wheaton backyard, her second titmouse in 10 years.

Also in October, Matthew Cvetas and his son Jake spotted a titmouse in Evanston, their first in the yard after nine years of observation. It was yard bird No. 140, an impressive number indeed. (I’m now at 112.)

Going back to October 2011, Chicago birders Geoff and Christine Williamson spotted a titmouse at the Jarvis Sanctuary—their first in 22 years of birding Lincoln Park!

A truly bittersweet titmouse story involves Jim and Kate Frazier. In 2010, Jim and I were conducting the Christmas Bird Count at Cantigny Park when his cell phone rang. It was Kate, reporting that a tufted titmouse was in their Batavia backyard, a first-time occurrence after 20 years.

I wouldn’t have faulted Jim if he’d chosen to ditch the CBC and high-tail it back home. He didn’t, and unfortunately the titmouse was a “one-day wonder,” not to be seen again. On that cold winter day, Kate scored the top prize without ever leaving home!

The tufted titmouse is closely related to the black-capped chickadee. Like chickadees they are cavity nesters and non-migratory. But unlike chickadees, they are scarce in DuPage.

It wasn’t always so. Kate Frazier grew up in Glen Ellyn and recalls titmice being common feeder birds in the mid-1960s. “Birds of The Morton Arboretum,” a booklet from the same era, also indicates that tufted titmice were regular. “Frequent in the woods,” wrote Floyd Swink. “Its cheery whistle is a commonly heard song.”

So what happened? For one thing, West Nile virus; studies show that tufted titmouse was among the hardest hit species when the avian disease emerged here in 1999.

I found another clue in “Birds of Forest, Yard, & Thicket,” published in 1997 by John Eastman. In the titmouse chapter he wrote: “During the past 50 years, observers have traced this bird’s remarkable northward range expansion . . . Since about 1965, however, this expansion has slowed and halted in many areas.”

Chicagoland may be one of those areas. Eastman also noted that titmice are “not so adaptive to various habitats” as chickadees. This, and perhaps stiff competition for nest holes, would make recovery from West Nile even more challenging.

But I’m just a birder who is speculating, not an ornithologist. All I really know is that tufted titmouse is one fine bird to see in DuPage County. When you do, savor the moment because it seems this locally elusive species seldom stays in one place for long.

Copyright 2012 by Jeff Reiter. All rights reserved.

Broad-Winged Hawk by Vic Berardi

October is a good time to maximize your birding

(published 10-16-12)

Too busy for birding? Lately it has felt that way for me. In September I attended only two organized bird walks. That’s rather pathetic considering all the opportunities. During fall migration, which is far from over, the local birdwatching agenda is loaded with events.

I plan to make amends in October. There is so much to see this month, including brown creepers, fox sparrows, hermit thrushes, kinglets, winter wrens and, yes, even yellow-bellied sapsuckers, the most migratory of our woodpeckers. I’ll feel like a sapsucker myself if I miss any more of the autumn spectacle now upon us.

Fortunately, birding doesn’t need to be time consuming. We can do it in little bits and pieces or while doing other things. That was my MO in September and it yielded a few interesting results.

On Sept. 21, the birding gods delivered a most welcome visitor to my Glen Ellyn backyard. It was an ovenbird, a ground-loving member of the warbler family named after its nest, which resembles a Dutch oven. I was looking outside from the kitchen at just the right moment.

An even more unusual backyard guest was a gray-cheeked thrush, a drab species that could easily go undetected. Getting the ID on this bird is tricky so it takes a good long look to be sure. I was lucky to get one, clinching my second-ever gray-cheeked in the yard.

Singing Eastern wood pewees in September? Yes, and not one but two. I’m not skilled at “birding by ear” but the pewee is easy—it says its name.

One more yard note: As so often happens, I got distracted while cutting the grass. It was late afternoon a few weeks ago when about 25 broad-winged hawks drifted over, all heading southwest. Classic!

The real hawkwatching experts gather this time of year on the big hill at Greene Valley Forest Preserve in Naperville. On Sept. 15 I dropped by to say hello and maybe mooch a view through their scopes. The hawk counters were hard at work that warm afternoon and, in fact, still recovering from a very busy morning. A few hours earlier they’d tallied more than 600 broad-wings as the birds lifted off from their overnight roosts to continue their southern migration.

The Greene Valley hawkwatch, in its 7th year, is organized and staffed by the DuPage Birding Club from September through November. The all-volunteer counting effort is “citizen science” in action, contributing to a database that monitors North American raptor populations. You can see the numbers, including daily Greene Valley reports, at hawkcount.org.

The overlook at Greene Valley—the second-highest spot in DuPage—is open to the public Saturdays and Sundays through October from 11 a.m. to 6 p.m., weather permitting. Go pay a visit to the devoted hawkwatchers this month and experience birding from a different perspective. The view is great and the birders are friendly! More information is at dupageforest.org.

Two of my favorite pastimes, birding and golf, came together beautifully on Sept. 25 when I attended a Ryder Cup practice round at Medinah Country Club. Spectating at golf events can be a little slow, leaving plenty of time to look around with binoculars. Once, during the U.S. Open at Olympia Fields, I spotted a yellow-throated vireo. At the PGA Championship at Medinah in 2006, my top prize was a yellow-billed cuckoo.

I didn’t see anything quite that exciting at Medinah this time. Among my 20 species for the day were several warblers and a red-breasted nuthatch. It seems to be an exceptional year for the latter, by far the less common of our two resident nuthatch species. They are popping up all over this fall.

Until last month, I’d never recorded a red-breasted nuthatch at Cantigny—amazing, considering I’ve been birding the park since 2008 and the species is regular in my backyard (having a peanut feeder helps). Fellow birder Jim Frazier and I were photographing hummingbirds in the Idea Garden when we heard the nuthatch’s signature call, which Roger Tory Peterson likened it to a “tiny tin horn.” I took off toward the sound but never did get a view of the perpetrator.

Certainly another highlight of my limited early fall birding was a visit to the Prairie School of DuPage County, a home school cooperative based on the grounds of the Theological Society in Wheaton. I led the young students there on a short Friday afternoon bird walk and the 10 species we found might as well have been 50. The kids’ enthusiasm was inspiring, and hopefully I convinced them to start keeping track of their sightings.

With regular walks, careful observation and the installation of a winter feeding station, the Prairie School kids can expect their bird list to grow quickly. They have the advantage of a wonderful 42-acre property with mixed habitat, not to mention a school curriculum that emphasizes nature study.

Now it’s October and I’m waiting to spot my first dark-eyed junco, a northern-nesting species that considers our region to be a fine place to spend the winter. I’m not so sure about that, but I do know that autumn is a great time to be a birder in these parts. Let’s all get outside and enjoy the show!

Copyright 2012 by Jeff Reiter. All rights reserved.

Tree Swallow by Cynthia Paralejas

List-keeping is fine, just be sure to enjoy the birds

(published 9-15-12)

A funny thing happened a few weeks ago. On a hot late-summer day, I added a bird to my life list without ever going birding.

I owe this to a couple of sharp-eyed readers, including one in Florida. They noticed that in my August column I’d mentioned seeing and hearing a winter wren during a trip to the Olympic Peninsula. In fact, they said, what I’d found was a Pacific wren.

How did they know? Well, it turns out I had forgotten about a taxonomic reclassification that occurred in 2010, courtesy of the American Ornithologists’ Union, or AOU. The winter wren, which we see occasionally in DuPage, was “split” into two separate species. In the western United States, what used to be a winter wren is now officially a Pacific wren.

Birders who keep lists love AOU splits. When they occur, our lists get longer. Mine did: Pacific wren, No. 498.

I’ll admit this can all be a little bit goofy. Many birders get obsessed with “the chase,” sometimes deriving greater satisfaction from growing their lists than from watching birds. We saw this quite vividly in “The Big Year,” a great book converted to the big screen. Some of my non-birding friends have finally seen the movie due to its recent run on HBO. They ask me, Are birders really like that?

Some are, yes, but none that I know. Most birders keep lists but they are not overly competitive about it. They appreciate bird listing for what it is: a game that for some adds a challenging and enjoyable dimension to the hobby. It’s a way to keep score and, in my opinion, encourages good observation skills.

Listing is highly personal, and some birders are shy about discussing their numbers. I’ve heard that you should never ask somebody how many birds are on their life list. Really? Would that be like asking them how much money they make?

OK, that’s fine. I will not ask. But if you and I cross paths in the field, feel free to inquire about my pursuit of life bird No. 500. I’ll talk about life lists and lifers all day long, and then we can talk about my yard list, too!

For me, listing is just fun. I make no apologies.

Stuart Keith, one of the original world-class listers, didn’t apologize either. “Bird listing is a sport, and as such, it needs no defense, any more than baseball or bowling,” wrote Keith, in a 1963 article for Audubon. “Nobody feels guilty about spending a day at the World Series, nor is an evening of bowling considered to be wasted. Why, then, should people worry that their day’s listing hasn’t contributed anything to ornithological knowledge?”

Things are different now thanks to the Internet. The detailed lists that birders compile and submit electronically through eBird are actually of great value to ornithologists. The data help identify bird distribution and population trends that inform bird conservation efforts.

It’s nice to see dedicated bird listers finally getting some credit. I believe they’ve always cared just as much about conservation as non-listers, but now, more than ever, their efforts are making a real scientific contribution.

Avid listers, however, are still routinely suspected of somehow not appreciating birds as much as those who simply watch birds and never keep a checklist. One group cares about numbers, the other about beauty. One group ticks, the other one observes.

It is not that simple, of course. Birding attracts all kinds of people for many different reasons. For some it is indeed a sport. For most of us, it’s a hobby or pastime. Maybe for you it’s just a few looks out the kitchen window every morning to check the feeder. We all approach birding a little differently.

Birders of every persuasion can be mesmerized by beautiful birds and fascinated by avian behavior. Even common species can provide a thrill, as I often witness during bird walks at Cantigny Park in Wheaton. Last May it was a tree swallow that captured and held the group’s attention. The sun hit that bird perfectly, revealing a stunning iridescence.

In August, our group spotted a male indigo bunting feeding in the rose garden. For five minutes we all feasted on close, eye-level views of this striking, electric-blue bird.

As we admired these birds, there were no listers or non-listers among us. There were no experts, beginners or anything in between. We were all just birders, enjoying the moment.

The next time I catch myself worrying a bit too much about The List or “getting the bird,” I’ll think about that swallow and bunting. If birds like that ever fail to grab my attention, I’ll know it’s time to give up the hobby. Lifers are great, but the birds all around us are pretty special, too.

Copyright 2012 by Jeff Reiter. All rights reserved.

Evening Grosbeak by Jackie Bowman

Birding Olympic Peninsula, by land and sea

(published 8-15-12)

Roll your eyes and turn the page if you must, it’s time for the annual “what I did on my summer vacation” column! It’s in my DNA: I travel, I watch birds, I take notes.

This time, the Pacific Northwest, in late June and early July. Some pre-trip research suggested it was not the “birdiest” time of the year to visit the region but visiting some new avian scenery is always fun. Plus, our timing was great: we missed the first major heat wave of the summer and a three-day power outage in Glen Ellyn.

On family vacations the challenge for me, besides finding the local birds, is practicing my hobby without interfering with scheduled activities. On this trip, fortunately, birding was compatible with almost everything we had planned.

First up was a one-day sea kayaking adventure. After landing in Seattle we drove to Anacortes and boarded a Washington State Ferry bound for Friday Harbor on San Juan Island. I knew the ferry would be a good birding opportunity and it started before we even pushed off. Pelagic cormorants and pigeon guillemots were hanging around the docks, along with some mystery gulls to be identified later.

After leaving port the real fun began. Groups of little seabirds were flying just above the water surface or resting in the distance. When the ferry got within 50 yards of the floating birds they vanished, diving below the surface. This seriously tested my ID skills and also my patience. Luckily, a few birds proved less skittish and afforded a brief but closer look. They were rhinoceros auklets, a species named for the little “horn” that projects from the base of its bill during breeding season. My life list was already growing.

The main point of the kayak trip was to observe orca whales in the Strait of Juan de Fuca. We succeeded mightily, spotting many whales out in the deeper water. As we paddled, some noisy black oystercatchers went wheeling by at close range. Another lifer!

Our visit to the San Juans was too short but leaving was easier knowing that our next stop was Lake Quinault Lodge in Olympic National Park. What a special place. My wife and I had been there once before, in 1993, and it seemed exactly the same. But one difference is that I wasn’t a birder back then. During the next three days I’d experience rainforest birding for the first time and do my best to see all that I missed 19 years ago.

Upon arrival I immediately noticed the lodge’s bird feeders, a very good sign! Within minutes I was watching black-headed grosbeaks and Steller’s jays enjoying the sunflower seeds. Rufous hummingbirds were visiting multiple nectar feeders hanging directly outside the Roosevelt Room’s windows. We’d be dining there later, just as FDR did in 1938.

Most of the feeder birds at Quinault were exciting because I’d seen them just a few times before during trips out west. The activity under the feeders was interesting, too. Mingling with those handsome Steller’s jays were western race dark-eyed juncos and fox sparrows. These birds have a very different look than their counterparts in DuPage.

In the lobby, a laminated one-page bird guide was available to help guests identify the common species around the lodge. Two of the 15 birds featured were evening grosbeak and varied thrush—both on my Most Wanted list for the trip.

The hiking trails at Lake Quinault wind through old-growth temperate rainforest studded with massive cedars, hemlocks and spruces. On one walk we encountered a mixed flock of chestnut-backed chickadees and brown creepers, followed by a singing winter wren. The wren alone was worth the three mile hike—what a voice for such a tiny bird!
Swainson’s thrushes contributed a nice musical element as well, in the woods and around the lodge. What a contrast they were to the raucous common ravens that made a living disturbing the peace.

Band-tailed pigeon and Pacific-slope flycatcher joined my life list, and I was happy to spot a pair of common loons patrolling Lake Quinault. Nesting violet-green swallows at the lodge were another bonus. From a balcony I watched them zoom by at eye-level just a few feet away.

Throughout the trip and especially at Quinault I kept my eyes peeled for a varied thrush, a robin-like species that likes to stay hidden. No luck. But my disappointment was easily offset on our last night at the lodge. Walking over to dinner, I noticed a chunky bird at one of the feeders, showing a lot of yellow and white. Could it be? Yes! A male evening grosbeak! This was a species I’d known all my life but had never seen. A female was on the feeder, too. I’ll admit, at dinner it took me a while to calm down.

After Quinault we drove west to the beaches along the Pacific Coast and then up to the Port Angeles area. We reentered Olympic National Park at the north entrance and climbed up to Hurricane Ridge, 5,200 feet above sea level. It was fun throwing a few snowballs on the Fourth of July and watching gray jays, horned larks and more of those odd-looking juncos.

The next morning I searched hard for a California quail at Dungeness National Wildlife Refuge near Sequim. Never found one, but I did see a spotted towhee, a refuge specialty. A “postcard moment” was delivered by an adult bald eagle, cruising along the famous Dungeness Spit.

My trip total was about 60 species, and those were just the birds! It was a fascinating week, filled with amazing scenery and wildlife of all kinds. Six weeks later, I’m still thinking about that pair of evening grosbeaks, the orcas and the astounding biodiversity of the Olympic Peninsula.

I’m going back, and hopefully soon. My notebook still has plenty of space.

Copyright 2012 by Jeff Reiter. All rights reserved.

Gray Catbird

Jelly-loving catbird livens up the neighborhood

(published 7-15-12)

Remember that scene in “The Big Year” when Brad, played by Jack Black, is showing bird photos to his father? The two are scrolling through images on the back of a digital camera. When American golden plover comes up Brad gets excited and says it’s his favorite bird. The dad (Brian Dennehy) is not impressed. He says only two words: “It’s gray.”

True birders can appreciate that scene because we know it’s not all about color and flash. Some of our favorite birds may appear rather plain but they possess other qualities that make them appealing. Me, I’ve always liked the catbird. It’s gray.

My friends seem to like catbirds, too. They make funny sounds. The birds I mean. Plus they are good looking without being colorful—sleek and slaty gray with a black crown. Catbirds also sport a rufous patch under their longish dark tail.

The patch can be hard to see, and so can the bird. Gray catbirds are common around here but their favored habitat is dense vegetation and thickets, where they tend to stay low. We usually hear them before we see them, including their trademark “meow” call.

The catbird’s secretive nature is just one reason I’m excited about my latest backyard birding story. Since early May, and for the first time ever, I’ve had a gray catbird visiting on daily basis. The trick: grape jelly.

I’d tried offering grape jelly before but without success. This time I got lucky. Or was it the feeder? Probably a little of both. The hanging blue plastic tray was an impulse buy at Menard’s last winter and so far it’s a catbird magnet.

I suspect that a pair is visiting, and that the birds are raising a family in some overgrown shrubs across the street. But I haven’t seen two birds at once so I can’t be sure. Male and female catbirds look alike.

Visits to the jelly are always brief: catbirds are skittish about being in the open for very long. Yet they are not shy about making their presence known in the neighborhood. In May, well before daybreak, I often heard a catbird singing. Performing might be a better description.

Like mockingbirds and thrashers, the gray catbird belongs to the mimid family. Its song is quite musical but hard to describe—loud and disjointed, often with notes or phrases borrowed from other species.

When I get home from work I can easily tell if the catbird has been pecking at the jelly. It leaves little beak marks. A tablespoon of the sweet stuff every couple days seems to be plenty.

One day the feeder was completely emptied. I’m guessing that was the work of house sparrows, which I’ve witnessed chowing down on the jelly occasionally. (The house sparrow population is huge in my yard these days; they are feathered vacuum cleaners.)
Cardinals, chickadees and nuthatches investigate the jelly but do not seem to like it. Orioles are known to feed on grape jelly but so far none have stopped by on my watch.

I did observe a fascinating interaction between a catbird and a ruby-throated hummingbird, on June 2. From my “catbird seat” in the kitchen I looked out to see the feisty little hummer driving the larger bird away from the nectar feeder, which is closer to the house. The catbird retreated to the jelly feeder and the hummingbird followed it there, staying in the intruder’s face. I believe Mr. Catbird got the message.

When the catbird show finally ends I’ll replace the grape jelly tray with a tube feeder filled with black-oil sunflower seeds, normally a staple on my avian buffet.

But how long will the catbird stay? All summer, hopefully. After that it will most likely migrate to the southern United States, eastern Mexico or Central America. A few catbirds, however, will spend the winter in Chicagoland; the species is found every year on various Christmas Bird Counts in the region. Like robins, catbirds can survive on berries when the snow flies. Maybe grape jelly, too!

For now I’m content to enjoy the warm-weather company of a charismatic neighborhood guest—a gray bird with a big voice and one serious sweet tooth.

Copyright 2012 by Jeff Reiter. All rights reserved.