For my birthday, a Bell's Vireo would be nice
(posted 7-31-07)
I'd decided about a week in advance that if the weather was nice, and if conditions were right at work, I'd take my birthday off. It would be a Friday, so all the better.
Yes, I was pretty sure that July 20 would be a day of hooky. But how would I spend it? It was fun thinking about the possibilities. More precisely, would it be birding or baseball? I would choose just one, since I wanted to spend at least part of the day with our six-year-old son Jay. (Rachel, age 11, was away at camp in Wisconsin.)
On five occasions during my 48 years I have attended a Major League Baseball game on my birthday. It's something I like to do, and having a July birthday and being near a large city with two big-league teams presents at least one possibility annually. Although my attendance has fallen off in recent years I'm still a big fan of the game—especially when the Cleveland Indians are playing.
I like the Cubs, too, and they had an afternoon date with the Diamondbacks on July 20. Wrigley Field would be sold out, but finding a single seat—maybe even a really good seat—would not be a problem.
Well, this blog isn’t called Words on Baseball, so you know the choice I made. The clincher? I had a good chance of seeing a new bird.
Lately I've been working a little harder to find some of the birds that have always eluded me. I'm talking about species that can be found in the Chicago region at certain times of the year if you have good information and also good luck. My efforts since last fall have added Snow Bunting, Harlequin Duck and Acadian Flycatcher to my life list.
Until this summer, I’d never single-mindedly pursued a Bell’s Vireo. It wasn't until June that I finally got serious about finding one. That month, despite excellent scouting reports from fellow birders, I struck out in three attempts at Greene Valley Forest Preserve in Woodridge. It was time to try a new venue.
In DuPage County, one of the most reliable places for Bell's Vireo has always been Fermilab in Batavia, where a few pairs nest each year. Just a week before my birthday, a Bell's was located by group of birders that included noted author and naturalist Scott Weidensaul. They found it along the so-called sparrow hedge, the usual spot at Fermi.
I haven't done a lot of birding at Fermi, and one reason, especially in recent years, is access. Security was tightened up considerably after the Sept. 11 tragedy. Birders are still welcome on the grounds, at least on most days, but it’s frustrating not being able to enter before 8:00 a.m. That's sleeping in for most of us birders.
I thought about stopping at another birding hotspot before Fermi, just to kill time, but then reconsidered. Better to be well fortified for my primary mission, so I headed for the IHOP in Wheaton instead. Going out to breakfast and reading the newspaper (especially during baseball season) is a rare but satisfying indulgence. My birthday was starting off in fine fashion.
I arrived at Fermi’s east entrance gate around 7:35, hoping the guard might let me slip in early. Nope, sorry sir, you'll have to wait. So I pulled over into the small parking lot and watched a steady stream of cars pass through the checkpoint. Fermi has more employees than I ever knew, and apparently most of them begin their shifts at 8:00.
When it was finally time to begin mine, I drove in and parked at the red barn. The sparrow hedge is less than a mile from this point, and on my way down the trail I encountered many catbirds and goldfinches. Not knowing this part of Fermi very well, I was just sort of feeling my way along. I knew I was heading in the right direction, but the "hedge" is not a clearly defined feature. Like the famed Magic Hedge at Montrose Beach in Chicago, it's not really a hedge at all. But whatever it is, the birds certainly like it.
The strategy for Bell’s, as with many other secretive species, is to locate the bird by listening, then hope for a quick glimpse. This species prefers scrubby underbrush and is far more often heard than seen.
I’d been listening to a Bell's Vireo for the previous month via the Bird Guide section of the Cornell Lab of Ornithology website, www.birds.cornell.edu/AllAboutBirds. It’s a great resource, especially when I need to hear a species that's not included on my Peterson Birding by Ear CDs.
The Bell’s song is raspy and scolding. It seems to me that a bird with such a musical name should have a more pleasing voice. But alas, Bell’s Vireo is named for a person, not something found in a church. John Graham Bell was a taxidermist who accompanied John James Audubon on a Missouri River trip in 1843.
In my first half hour at Fermi, the most interesting sighting was an ovenbird—quite an unexpected species since I wasn't in a forest. A Baltimore oriole and several blue-gray gnatcatchers were flitting about, too. Nice birds, but I was getting a little anxious. When and where would I hear the Bell’s? Was I again destined to miss this bird?
No, I was not. Setting down a new path, still along the sparrow hedge, I heard the noise I’d been training for—distinctive, unmistakable. As I walked it became louder. The Bell's was close, and for a few seconds it even popped into view. It was a drab little bird, but seeing it was important to me. It was a “lifer” after all. And besides, when searching for a bird like Bell’s Vireo that's notoriously difficult to observe, doesn’t the observer become a little more determined? I felt fortunate to get several short looks in good light, with the sun at my back.
Walking back to my car, I remember thinking what a good choice I’d made—to go birding, alone, instead of to a baseball game with 42,000 others. It was not even 10 o’clock and already I’d had a great day. Any birder would understand.
Copyright 2007 by Jeff Reiter. All Rights Reserved.
Jeff Reiter's newspaper column about birds, birding and birders, appearing in the Daily Herald (west suburban Chicago). Hatched in 2004!
Greene Valley Acadian
(posted 6-25-07)
Greene Valley Forest Preserve in Woodridge is only 10 miles south of my home. So why had I only been there once or twice before? Well, until this past week, I guess I didn't know what I was missing.
Multiple reports of a very accessible Acadian flycatcher was my catalyst. The bird was first reported on June 6 by Mike Madsen, a veteran birder who knows every inch of Greene Valley--he's been monitoring birds there for years. Mike heard and then sighted the flycatcher in an open scrubby area, which is not typical habitat for an Acadian. It was the first time he had ever seen this species at Greene Valley. Since I had never seen an Acadian flycatcher in my LIFE, I paid close attention to his reports on IBET, the birding list-serve.
And the postings kept coming. Not only was the bird out of place, it was hanging around! On June 20 I decided to go for it. It was a beautiful cool morning--a great day to be out after about a week of hot and sticky conditions. The night before and in the car on the way, I played the empidonax flycatcher track from my Birding by Ear CD series. I played the Acadian segment over and over, trying to burn that sound into my head.
The homework paid off. Once at Greene Valley I located the bird fairly easily--it was right where Mike described it. Naturally I heard the flycatcher first. But within a few minutes I was watching it sing from fairly close range. As birders know, it's very satisfying to find a sought-after "life bird" and be able to observe it at length and in good light. Even better when the bird is vocalizing.
The Acadian made my day, but there was more to be enjoyed. I proceeded along the crushed limestone paths of Greene Valley and found Baltimore and orchard orioles, yellow warbler, common yellowthroat, Eastern towhee and indigo bunting--all nice birds to watch and listen to. Catbirds and red-winged blackbirds were especially plentiful.
Around 7:00 a.m. I reluctantly got back in my car and headed home--it was Wednesday and I had to get to work! After a quick change and a commute on Metra, I was in my Chicago office before 9.
Three days later I found myself back at Greene Valley, this time in a light rain. Like the previous visit, I had a target bird: Bell's vireo. If successful, it would be my second lifer of the week.
Well, sometimes the birding gods get even. They decided to make me really work for the Bell's. And I'm still working. I didn't find one that day in the drizzle, or the next day either. Nice consolations were a white-eyed vireo and a yellow-billed cuckoo. I'll take those birds any day. But my lifer Bell's will have to wait.
Maybe this Saturday my luck with turn. Bell's vireos are confirmed at Greene Valley--my birding colleagues have been finding them with relative ease in recent weeks. They've told me where to look and I know what to listen for. It's a matter of persistence and timing.
So I'll keep trying in the days to come, and I'll keep enjoying Greene Valley. It has more to offer than I ever realized.
Copyright 2007 by Jeff Reiter. All Rights Reserved.
(posted 6-25-07)
Greene Valley Forest Preserve in Woodridge is only 10 miles south of my home. So why had I only been there once or twice before? Well, until this past week, I guess I didn't know what I was missing.
Multiple reports of a very accessible Acadian flycatcher was my catalyst. The bird was first reported on June 6 by Mike Madsen, a veteran birder who knows every inch of Greene Valley--he's been monitoring birds there for years. Mike heard and then sighted the flycatcher in an open scrubby area, which is not typical habitat for an Acadian. It was the first time he had ever seen this species at Greene Valley. Since I had never seen an Acadian flycatcher in my LIFE, I paid close attention to his reports on IBET, the birding list-serve.
And the postings kept coming. Not only was the bird out of place, it was hanging around! On June 20 I decided to go for it. It was a beautiful cool morning--a great day to be out after about a week of hot and sticky conditions. The night before and in the car on the way, I played the empidonax flycatcher track from my Birding by Ear CD series. I played the Acadian segment over and over, trying to burn that sound into my head.
The homework paid off. Once at Greene Valley I located the bird fairly easily--it was right where Mike described it. Naturally I heard the flycatcher first. But within a few minutes I was watching it sing from fairly close range. As birders know, it's very satisfying to find a sought-after "life bird" and be able to observe it at length and in good light. Even better when the bird is vocalizing.
The Acadian made my day, but there was more to be enjoyed. I proceeded along the crushed limestone paths of Greene Valley and found Baltimore and orchard orioles, yellow warbler, common yellowthroat, Eastern towhee and indigo bunting--all nice birds to watch and listen to. Catbirds and red-winged blackbirds were especially plentiful.
Around 7:00 a.m. I reluctantly got back in my car and headed home--it was Wednesday and I had to get to work! After a quick change and a commute on Metra, I was in my Chicago office before 9.
Three days later I found myself back at Greene Valley, this time in a light rain. Like the previous visit, I had a target bird: Bell's vireo. If successful, it would be my second lifer of the week.
Well, sometimes the birding gods get even. They decided to make me really work for the Bell's. And I'm still working. I didn't find one that day in the drizzle, or the next day either. Nice consolations were a white-eyed vireo and a yellow-billed cuckoo. I'll take those birds any day. But my lifer Bell's will have to wait.
Maybe this Saturday my luck with turn. Bell's vireos are confirmed at Greene Valley--my birding colleagues have been finding them with relative ease in recent weeks. They've told me where to look and I know what to listen for. It's a matter of persistence and timing.
So I'll keep trying in the days to come, and I'll keep enjoying Greene Valley. It has more to offer than I ever realized.
Copyright 2007 by Jeff Reiter. All Rights Reserved.
A fabulous falcon and other yard highlights
(posted 6-5-07)
Several few years ago I won some kudos for spotting a peregrine falcon during the spring bird count. I was with two other birders covering the Morton Arboretum when I saw the bird high overhead and called out. It was a rather improbable sighting, but my colleagues--more experienced than me--confirmed the ID. I enjoyed that moment, and I recalled it on May 27 when I saw only my second lifetime peregrine falcon in DuPage County--this time from my back patio!
The peregrine was a new "yard bird" for me, species No. 104, and obviously one of the highlights of my spring birding. During May, the peak of migration season, I was out on the patio almost every morning just before 6 a.m., listening and looking. Even on work days I squeezed in an hour of birding before heading for the train. So a lot of early wake-ups, but it was worth it.
The same day I saw the falcon, I also spotted a yellow-billed cuckoo. I'd only had a cuckoo in the yard once before, in May 2005, so it was quite a surprise. Another bird I'd only had once before was Eastern kingbird, a fairly easy bird to find if you know where to look. But until May 4--and then again on May 27!--I hadn't seen a kingbird in my yard since 2002. It was good to end a five-year drought.
Another sweet May moment was finding a rose-breasted grosbeak on my sunflower seed tube feeder one morning when I first went outside. Fortunately he startled me more that I startled him so he stayed for a few minutes. It would be my only grosbeak of the spring.
In the warbler department it was a so-so May in my yard. I logged a dozen varieties, among them Blackburnian, chestnut-sided, blackpoll, black and white, Wilson's and bay-breasted. Vireos? Just two: red-eyed (of course) and blue-headed (alright!).
This spring I really got to know the beautiful song of the Swainson's thrush. I'm not sure if it was one bird or several different ones, but Swainson's was "uncommonly common" in my yard during the second half of May. Most mornings I never saw one but boy did I hear it.
Brown thrasher is a bird I can never count on. Before last month I'd only had two yard sightings, once in late April and once in very early May. It was therefore kind of shocking to have one stop by on May 28--a true "bonus bird." He was perched fairly high in a neighbor's tree and making all the weird sounds you'd expect from a thrasher.
One species I expected to see (or at least hear) was gray catbird, one of my favorite backyard birds. No luck. But if birding is anything it's unpredictable.
For 2007, my yard list now sits at 74 species. This is my fifth straight year of keeping a "year list" for the yard, and so far my highest total is 79 species, in 2005. With a little luck--and a lot more hours on my patio this fall--a new personal best is within reach. A flyover bald eagle for No. 80 would be nice. But a catbird would be fine, too.
Copyright 2007 by Jeff Reiter. All rights reserved.
(posted 6-5-07)
Several few years ago I won some kudos for spotting a peregrine falcon during the spring bird count. I was with two other birders covering the Morton Arboretum when I saw the bird high overhead and called out. It was a rather improbable sighting, but my colleagues--more experienced than me--confirmed the ID. I enjoyed that moment, and I recalled it on May 27 when I saw only my second lifetime peregrine falcon in DuPage County--this time from my back patio!
The peregrine was a new "yard bird" for me, species No. 104, and obviously one of the highlights of my spring birding. During May, the peak of migration season, I was out on the patio almost every morning just before 6 a.m., listening and looking. Even on work days I squeezed in an hour of birding before heading for the train. So a lot of early wake-ups, but it was worth it.
The same day I saw the falcon, I also spotted a yellow-billed cuckoo. I'd only had a cuckoo in the yard once before, in May 2005, so it was quite a surprise. Another bird I'd only had once before was Eastern kingbird, a fairly easy bird to find if you know where to look. But until May 4--and then again on May 27!--I hadn't seen a kingbird in my yard since 2002. It was good to end a five-year drought.
Another sweet May moment was finding a rose-breasted grosbeak on my sunflower seed tube feeder one morning when I first went outside. Fortunately he startled me more that I startled him so he stayed for a few minutes. It would be my only grosbeak of the spring.
In the warbler department it was a so-so May in my yard. I logged a dozen varieties, among them Blackburnian, chestnut-sided, blackpoll, black and white, Wilson's and bay-breasted. Vireos? Just two: red-eyed (of course) and blue-headed (alright!).
This spring I really got to know the beautiful song of the Swainson's thrush. I'm not sure if it was one bird or several different ones, but Swainson's was "uncommonly common" in my yard during the second half of May. Most mornings I never saw one but boy did I hear it.
Brown thrasher is a bird I can never count on. Before last month I'd only had two yard sightings, once in late April and once in very early May. It was therefore kind of shocking to have one stop by on May 28--a true "bonus bird." He was perched fairly high in a neighbor's tree and making all the weird sounds you'd expect from a thrasher.
One species I expected to see (or at least hear) was gray catbird, one of my favorite backyard birds. No luck. But if birding is anything it's unpredictable.
For 2007, my yard list now sits at 74 species. This is my fifth straight year of keeping a "year list" for the yard, and so far my highest total is 79 species, in 2005. With a little luck--and a lot more hours on my patio this fall--a new personal best is within reach. A flyover bald eagle for No. 80 would be nice. But a catbird would be fine, too.
Copyright 2007 by Jeff Reiter. All rights reserved.
Cleaning up the yard (list)
(posted 5-21-07)
Things were really popping in my backyard this morning. Judging by the volume and diversity of the "dawn chorus," the neighborhood was loaded with birds. The highlight was a singing scarlet tanager, a fiery male. That's what I like to call a "wow bird"--the kind that could turn almost anybody into a birder.
Flycatchers were flitting around, too. I generally know a member of the empidonax flycatcher family when I see one, but I've never had much confidence in telling them apart. Knowing their songs is the only sure-proof way to make a positive ID.
After a few minutes outside I heard an incessant two-note call that I guessed had to be a least flycatcher. I then went back inside to check the ID using my Peterson "Birding by Ear" CDs. I played the flycatcher track--the segment that I've surely played more than any other over the years--and easily confirmed that the bird I'd been watching and listening to was indeed a least flycatcher.
I tell this story because my official yard list, until now, had one aggravating flaw. One of the species I'd listed wasn't a species at all, it was a family. Not trusting my identification skills, I'd simply written down "empidonax flycatcher species." No shame in that--it's the proper and conservative thing to put down when you're not sure--but it was a lot less precise than I preferred.
So, today my yard list became a little cleaner when I added a "no doubt" least flycatcher. My list didn't grow--I'm still sitting at 103 species--but now every entry is an actual bird.
In the days ahead I'll be listening for Acadian and alder flycatchers, either of which would be a life bird for me. Having listened to the CD this morning and again tonight, I think I might be able to ID one of these other empids if one happens by and vocalizes. Or maybe not. But it's a test I'm looking forward to, whether it happens in the yard or in the field.
Copyright 2007 by Jeff Reiter. All rights reserved.
(posted 5-21-07)
Things were really popping in my backyard this morning. Judging by the volume and diversity of the "dawn chorus," the neighborhood was loaded with birds. The highlight was a singing scarlet tanager, a fiery male. That's what I like to call a "wow bird"--the kind that could turn almost anybody into a birder.
Flycatchers were flitting around, too. I generally know a member of the empidonax flycatcher family when I see one, but I've never had much confidence in telling them apart. Knowing their songs is the only sure-proof way to make a positive ID.
After a few minutes outside I heard an incessant two-note call that I guessed had to be a least flycatcher. I then went back inside to check the ID using my Peterson "Birding by Ear" CDs. I played the flycatcher track--the segment that I've surely played more than any other over the years--and easily confirmed that the bird I'd been watching and listening to was indeed a least flycatcher.
I tell this story because my official yard list, until now, had one aggravating flaw. One of the species I'd listed wasn't a species at all, it was a family. Not trusting my identification skills, I'd simply written down "empidonax flycatcher species." No shame in that--it's the proper and conservative thing to put down when you're not sure--but it was a lot less precise than I preferred.
So, today my yard list became a little cleaner when I added a "no doubt" least flycatcher. My list didn't grow--I'm still sitting at 103 species--but now every entry is an actual bird.
In the days ahead I'll be listening for Acadian and alder flycatchers, either of which would be a life bird for me. Having listened to the CD this morning and again tonight, I think I might be able to ID one of these other empids if one happens by and vocalizes. Or maybe not. But it's a test I'm looking forward to, whether it happens in the yard or in the field.
Copyright 2007 by Jeff Reiter. All rights reserved.
A nice Monday night surprise
(posted 4-27-07)
My birding this month was mostly limited to the backyard. But that's OK, I like it there. The highlight came earlier this week when I spotted a field sparrow under one of our lilac bushes. It was a first-time sighting in the yard, species No. 103.
The field sparrow was congregating with several white-throated sparrows and a song sparrow. All of them were nibbling on the millet that I had put down the previous two days. But this was Monday night, so there couldn't have been many seeds left. Perhaps I'll start spreading the millet on a daily basis, just to keep the action going throughout the week.
Even if you work away from home all day, nice surprises can be waiting when you return -- especially this time of year. That was certainly the case for me on Monday. What a great way to start the week!
Copyright 2007 by Jeff Reiter. All Rights Reserved.
(posted 4-27-07)
My birding this month was mostly limited to the backyard. But that's OK, I like it there. The highlight came earlier this week when I spotted a field sparrow under one of our lilac bushes. It was a first-time sighting in the yard, species No. 103.
The field sparrow was congregating with several white-throated sparrows and a song sparrow. All of them were nibbling on the millet that I had put down the previous two days. But this was Monday night, so there couldn't have been many seeds left. Perhaps I'll start spreading the millet on a daily basis, just to keep the action going throughout the week.
Even if you work away from home all day, nice surprises can be waiting when you return -- especially this time of year. That was certainly the case for me on Monday. What a great way to start the week!
Copyright 2007 by Jeff Reiter. All Rights Reserved.
Uncommon visitors made this a winter to remember
(Published 3-22-07)
Retirement and birding, they go together. This winter I was again envious of my older birder friends who have the freedom to pursue this hobby with abandon. When a rare bird is reported in the area, they can drop everything and go see it.
Being tied to a nine-to-five, my schedule isn’t that flexible. But at least I can follow their adventures vicariously via the Internet. Hey, just because I’m office-bound doesn’t mean I can’t be informed!
Some of the sightings reported on the birding list-serve this winter were quite remarkable, reinforcing what I’ve said before: We live in great place for year-round birding. In January and February, many coveted species made local appearances, rewarding those who had the time (and cold-weather gear) to go after them.
Fortunately, not all the birds escaped me. When a pair of harlequin ducks was reported near North Avenue beach in Chicago in mid-January, I jumped at the chance to go see them. How could I not? I’d never seen a “harlie” before, and these birds were too close to pass up.
The six-dollar cab ride to North Avenue from my office was money well spent. It didn’t take long to find the ducks, which were conveniently swimming close to shore. The male harlequin is simply a spectacular bird, possibly North America’s most beautiful duck. Harlies are rare visitors to the Great Lakes, let alone downtown Chicago. They breed in northern Canada and winter primarily along rocky East Coast shorelines.
How I wish all the birds this winter had been so accessible! There were many I’d have loved to “chase.” Tops among them would be the purple sandpiper that turned up at Waukegan Beach and stayed for a tantalizing 10 days. The red-throated loons and black scoters seen at Illinois Beach State Park in Zion tempted me as well. Other nice finds by local birders included a red-shouldered hawk at Waterfall Glen Forest Preserve in Darien; rough-legged hawks and a bald eagle at Springbrook Prairie in Naperville; and a saw-whet owl at Morton Arboretum in Lisle. Northern shrikes—a true winter specialty—were seen in multiple DuPage County locations.
Two other exciting discoveries this winter took place early last month in Lombard. The one attracting the most attention—fueled by a prominent story and photo in the Daily Herald—was a snowy owl. The large white raptor was spotted on top of an apartment building across from Yorktown Center. A few snowy owl sightings occur each winter in this region, but they usually take place along the Chicago lakefront or in wide-open rural spaces—habitats similar to the species’ arctic tundra homeland. I’ve never seen a snowy in DuPage County, and unfortunately I wasn’t fast enough to see the one in Lombard.
Proving that “good birds” sometimes come in pairs, a northern mockingbird was found in Lombard on the same day as the owl. Mockingbirds are uncommon this far north, even in the spring and summer. Other songbird surprises this winter included an orange-crowned warbler found outside the Shedd Aquarium in Chicago, and a male Baltimore oriole at a backyard feeder in McHenry County. Hopefully these out-of-place birds survived the bitter cold.
Periodically I like to share the sign-on information for the Internet list-serve I mentioned earlier. It’s a great tool for all birders, retired or not. Besides alerting you to local rarities, the postings help you learn what birds to expect throughout the year and the best places see them. To get started, send a blank e-mail to ILbirds-subscribe@yahoogroups.com, wait for the response, then follow the instructions. The service is free.
Copyright 2007 by Jeff Reiter. All rights reserved.
(Published 3-22-07)
Retirement and birding, they go together. This winter I was again envious of my older birder friends who have the freedom to pursue this hobby with abandon. When a rare bird is reported in the area, they can drop everything and go see it.
Being tied to a nine-to-five, my schedule isn’t that flexible. But at least I can follow their adventures vicariously via the Internet. Hey, just because I’m office-bound doesn’t mean I can’t be informed!
Some of the sightings reported on the birding list-serve this winter were quite remarkable, reinforcing what I’ve said before: We live in great place for year-round birding. In January and February, many coveted species made local appearances, rewarding those who had the time (and cold-weather gear) to go after them.
Fortunately, not all the birds escaped me. When a pair of harlequin ducks was reported near North Avenue beach in Chicago in mid-January, I jumped at the chance to go see them. How could I not? I’d never seen a “harlie” before, and these birds were too close to pass up.
The six-dollar cab ride to North Avenue from my office was money well spent. It didn’t take long to find the ducks, which were conveniently swimming close to shore. The male harlequin is simply a spectacular bird, possibly North America’s most beautiful duck. Harlies are rare visitors to the Great Lakes, let alone downtown Chicago. They breed in northern Canada and winter primarily along rocky East Coast shorelines.
How I wish all the birds this winter had been so accessible! There were many I’d have loved to “chase.” Tops among them would be the purple sandpiper that turned up at Waukegan Beach and stayed for a tantalizing 10 days. The red-throated loons and black scoters seen at Illinois Beach State Park in Zion tempted me as well. Other nice finds by local birders included a red-shouldered hawk at Waterfall Glen Forest Preserve in Darien; rough-legged hawks and a bald eagle at Springbrook Prairie in Naperville; and a saw-whet owl at Morton Arboretum in Lisle. Northern shrikes—a true winter specialty—were seen in multiple DuPage County locations.
Two other exciting discoveries this winter took place early last month in Lombard. The one attracting the most attention—fueled by a prominent story and photo in the Daily Herald—was a snowy owl. The large white raptor was spotted on top of an apartment building across from Yorktown Center. A few snowy owl sightings occur each winter in this region, but they usually take place along the Chicago lakefront or in wide-open rural spaces—habitats similar to the species’ arctic tundra homeland. I’ve never seen a snowy in DuPage County, and unfortunately I wasn’t fast enough to see the one in Lombard.
Proving that “good birds” sometimes come in pairs, a northern mockingbird was found in Lombard on the same day as the owl. Mockingbirds are uncommon this far north, even in the spring and summer. Other songbird surprises this winter included an orange-crowned warbler found outside the Shedd Aquarium in Chicago, and a male Baltimore oriole at a backyard feeder in McHenry County. Hopefully these out-of-place birds survived the bitter cold.
Periodically I like to share the sign-on information for the Internet list-serve I mentioned earlier. It’s a great tool for all birders, retired or not. Besides alerting you to local rarities, the postings help you learn what birds to expect throughout the year and the best places see them. To get started, send a blank e-mail to ILbirds-subscribe@yahoogroups.com, wait for the response, then follow the instructions. The service is free.
Copyright 2007 by Jeff Reiter. All rights reserved.
Avian outcasts: Non-native species unloved
(published 2-15-07)
It’s fitting that the monk parakeet is green. It is, after all, an alien bird.
Not that there’s anything wrong with that.
Or maybe that depends on who you ask. Non-native or “introduced” species like the monk parakeet, European starling, rock pigeon and house sparrow are despised by a lot of birders. They’re regarded as illegal immigrants, or worse. I’ve heard pigeons called rats with wings. Sky carp. Falcon food.
But whatever your opinion of them, non-native birds are here to stay. We might as well accept them and—dare I say it?—enjoy them. I confess that last spring I caught myself admiring a starling. The bird was on the ground, warming itself in the sun on a chilly morning. From my angle, the rainbow effect on its iridescent plumage was striking.
Monk parakeets are showy in a different way, and most of us are still getting to know them. This South American species gained a Chicago foothold in the 1970s, probably when a few pet birds were released into the wild. Their local population has been growing ever since.
Think of the monk as a parrot, not a parakeet. It’s a sizeable, conspicuous bird. Author Pete Dunne likens it to a bright green American kestrel, but with a longer, pointier tail. Monk parakeets live in noisy colonies characterized by enormous stick nests, often constructed on power line towers. The nest clusters—a headache for ComEd—are so dense (and the birds so hardy) that monk parakeets survive here year-round.
Like many area birders, I saw my first monk parakeet in the Hyde Park neighborhood of Chicago, home of the region’s original colony. The birds are easily found just south of the Science and Industry Museum—look for their nests on the light poles at the golf course driving range.
Last year, following a tip, I set out to see my first monk parakeets in DuPage County. I found them at Cricket Creek Forest Preserve in Addison. The best vantage point was actually from outside the preserve, from the southbound on-ramp to Route 83 off Lake Street. Their massive nest on the utility tower is impossible to miss.
Monk parakeets will visit backyard feeding stations, but be careful what you wish for. The birds travel in groups and have voracious appetites. They can empty a feeder faster than a flock of grackles, and watch your ornamental fruit trees too! They’d be welcome in my yard, though, just for the color and excitement.
Another expanding non-native species to look for is the Eurasian collared-dove. This bird looks just like a mourning dove but has a thin black band or “collar” behind its head. I see these birds every time I visit South Florida but their distribution is now well beyond the Southeast and moving north. They are commonly sighted in Illinois counties south of here, so I’ve started looking at the mourning doves in my yard a lot more carefully.
Maybe I’m thinking about non-native species a bit more these days because of a newly published book that I received for Christmas: “Pigeons: The Fascinating Saga of the World’s Most Revered and Reviled Bird.” I’m looking forward to it. Really.
Learning more about the common birds around us, including the non-natives, is a worthy goal. Be curious and keep an open mind. It’ll help you enjoy the hobby even more.
Jeff Reiter is a Glen Ellyn, Ill., resident who enjoys birding at home and in the field. You can reach him at jreiter@wordsonbirds.com.
Copyright 2007. All Rights Reserved.
(published 2-15-07)
It’s fitting that the monk parakeet is green. It is, after all, an alien bird.
Not that there’s anything wrong with that.
Or maybe that depends on who you ask. Non-native or “introduced” species like the monk parakeet, European starling, rock pigeon and house sparrow are despised by a lot of birders. They’re regarded as illegal immigrants, or worse. I’ve heard pigeons called rats with wings. Sky carp. Falcon food.
But whatever your opinion of them, non-native birds are here to stay. We might as well accept them and—dare I say it?—enjoy them. I confess that last spring I caught myself admiring a starling. The bird was on the ground, warming itself in the sun on a chilly morning. From my angle, the rainbow effect on its iridescent plumage was striking.
Monk parakeets are showy in a different way, and most of us are still getting to know them. This South American species gained a Chicago foothold in the 1970s, probably when a few pet birds were released into the wild. Their local population has been growing ever since.
Think of the monk as a parrot, not a parakeet. It’s a sizeable, conspicuous bird. Author Pete Dunne likens it to a bright green American kestrel, but with a longer, pointier tail. Monk parakeets live in noisy colonies characterized by enormous stick nests, often constructed on power line towers. The nest clusters—a headache for ComEd—are so dense (and the birds so hardy) that monk parakeets survive here year-round.
Like many area birders, I saw my first monk parakeet in the Hyde Park neighborhood of Chicago, home of the region’s original colony. The birds are easily found just south of the Science and Industry Museum—look for their nests on the light poles at the golf course driving range.
Last year, following a tip, I set out to see my first monk parakeets in DuPage County. I found them at Cricket Creek Forest Preserve in Addison. The best vantage point was actually from outside the preserve, from the southbound on-ramp to Route 83 off Lake Street. Their massive nest on the utility tower is impossible to miss.
Monk parakeets will visit backyard feeding stations, but be careful what you wish for. The birds travel in groups and have voracious appetites. They can empty a feeder faster than a flock of grackles, and watch your ornamental fruit trees too! They’d be welcome in my yard, though, just for the color and excitement.
Another expanding non-native species to look for is the Eurasian collared-dove. This bird looks just like a mourning dove but has a thin black band or “collar” behind its head. I see these birds every time I visit South Florida but their distribution is now well beyond the Southeast and moving north. They are commonly sighted in Illinois counties south of here, so I’ve started looking at the mourning doves in my yard a lot more carefully.
Maybe I’m thinking about non-native species a bit more these days because of a newly published book that I received for Christmas: “Pigeons: The Fascinating Saga of the World’s Most Revered and Reviled Bird.” I’m looking forward to it. Really.
Learning more about the common birds around us, including the non-natives, is a worthy goal. Be curious and keep an open mind. It’ll help you enjoy the hobby even more.
Jeff Reiter is a Glen Ellyn, Ill., resident who enjoys birding at home and in the field. You can reach him at jreiter@wordsonbirds.com.
Copyright 2007. All Rights Reserved.
Got ground? Try this simple and effective feeding strategy
(published 1-18-07)
The foundation of my backyard feeding program is a small Droll Yankees tube feeder filled with black-oil sunflower seeds. It is joined by two other tube-style feeders—one for shelled peanuts and one for thistle. These stations attract a nice variety of birds in all seasons. In May I’ll put out the hummingbird feeder, too.
But let’s remember that a lot of birds prefer to do their eating on the ground. Toss down a few handfuls of seed and you might be surprised by how quickly the activity level picks up. Sparrows, juncos, mourning doves and even cardinals are highly terrestrial when it comes to feeding.
In the winter, I put small amounts of millet and cracked corn on our bluestone patio. This brings the birds up close, right outside our kitchen’s sliding doors. The action can be especially good right after it snows, when foraging on bare ground is no longer possible. On those days I clear off an area of the patio, creating a “landing pad” that works like a bird magnet.
On Dec. 2, the day after that big snow messed up everybody’s Friday, a fox sparrow made a surprise appearance on the bluestone. “Foxies” are not common in my yard, and I’d never had one visit so late in the year. Even more exciting was the American tree sparrow that turned up about a week later—a new species, No. 102, for my yard list. The bird was congregating with a group of house sparrows and, based on coloration alone, could have been overlooked. So, if you try ground feeding, be alert for unusual visitors—attracting them is the whole point!
Ground feeding does have some drawbacks. The major one is that it brings joy to the lives of house sparrows and squirrels. That’s hard for most birders to accept, and I once had a problem with it myself. My outlook changed, however, when “good” birds began taking advantage of my generosity. I now believe that whatever waste might come with ground feeding is well worth it.
Still, be sure to avoid putting out too much food. I try to spread just enough seed to last a half day, so that it’s all gone by nightfall. Fresh, dry seed is important for the health of the birds, and excess food could attract any number of nocturnal four-legged creatures. Typically, I only do ground feeding on weekends, when I’m home to enjoy the results.
The choice of millet and cracked corn is strategic, too. These foods please a variety of birds—cardinals especially like the corn—and they are inexpensive. My usual source is the Wild Bird Center in Wheaton, where millet sells for $.59/lb and cracked corn is only $.39/lb. You get an even better deal if you buy the 25-lb bags.
In closing, I’d like to confess that my inspiration for ground feeding came from an ace birder in Wheaton who is less than half my age. For years he’s been attracting ground-loving seed eaters to his yard by sprinkling millet under trees and shrubs. The tactic has delivered brown thrashers, Eastern towhees and white-crowned sparrows among other desirable species. Consider giving ground feeding a try now and continue the practice this spring when the range of potential “customers” increases.
Copyright 2007 by Jeff Reiter. All rights reserved.
(published 1-18-07)
The foundation of my backyard feeding program is a small Droll Yankees tube feeder filled with black-oil sunflower seeds. It is joined by two other tube-style feeders—one for shelled peanuts and one for thistle. These stations attract a nice variety of birds in all seasons. In May I’ll put out the hummingbird feeder, too.
But let’s remember that a lot of birds prefer to do their eating on the ground. Toss down a few handfuls of seed and you might be surprised by how quickly the activity level picks up. Sparrows, juncos, mourning doves and even cardinals are highly terrestrial when it comes to feeding.
In the winter, I put small amounts of millet and cracked corn on our bluestone patio. This brings the birds up close, right outside our kitchen’s sliding doors. The action can be especially good right after it snows, when foraging on bare ground is no longer possible. On those days I clear off an area of the patio, creating a “landing pad” that works like a bird magnet.
On Dec. 2, the day after that big snow messed up everybody’s Friday, a fox sparrow made a surprise appearance on the bluestone. “Foxies” are not common in my yard, and I’d never had one visit so late in the year. Even more exciting was the American tree sparrow that turned up about a week later—a new species, No. 102, for my yard list. The bird was congregating with a group of house sparrows and, based on coloration alone, could have been overlooked. So, if you try ground feeding, be alert for unusual visitors—attracting them is the whole point!
Ground feeding does have some drawbacks. The major one is that it brings joy to the lives of house sparrows and squirrels. That’s hard for most birders to accept, and I once had a problem with it myself. My outlook changed, however, when “good” birds began taking advantage of my generosity. I now believe that whatever waste might come with ground feeding is well worth it.
Still, be sure to avoid putting out too much food. I try to spread just enough seed to last a half day, so that it’s all gone by nightfall. Fresh, dry seed is important for the health of the birds, and excess food could attract any number of nocturnal four-legged creatures. Typically, I only do ground feeding on weekends, when I’m home to enjoy the results.
The choice of millet and cracked corn is strategic, too. These foods please a variety of birds—cardinals especially like the corn—and they are inexpensive. My usual source is the Wild Bird Center in Wheaton, where millet sells for $.59/lb and cracked corn is only $.39/lb. You get an even better deal if you buy the 25-lb bags.
In closing, I’d like to confess that my inspiration for ground feeding came from an ace birder in Wheaton who is less than half my age. For years he’s been attracting ground-loving seed eaters to his yard by sprinkling millet under trees and shrubs. The tactic has delivered brown thrashers, Eastern towhees and white-crowned sparrows among other desirable species. Consider giving ground feeding a try now and continue the practice this spring when the range of potential “customers” increases.
Copyright 2007 by Jeff Reiter. All rights reserved.
Some lists keep growing, and others come to an end
(published 12-28-06)
Seeing a bird for the first time is a great feeling, so I can understand why it leads some birders to do the “life bird dance.” I’ve never actually seen this performed, but I picture it looking something like a sandhill crane’s courtship ritual—interesting, but not terribly graceful.
My own ritual following a first-time sighting is to make a hand-written entry in the birdwatcher’s logbook I’ve been using for about a dozen years. I keep a master list on my computer hard drive too, as a back up, but that’s just a bunch of bird names without any details. The log contains all the meaningful stuff, and it would be one of the first things I’d reach for if my house was burning down.
I didn’t travel much in 2006, so my life list was stuck on 450 species all year. That is, until October 29. That day I drove to the Chicago lakefront in search of my first snow bunting, a bird I’d been pursuing for years. I knew from Internet postings that my chances were pretty good. Migrating snow buntings were reported on Montrose beach for several days leading up to my visit.
Within two hours of arrival I had the bird. Several small flocks of snow buntings were swirling around that morning, and fortunately I spotted a solitary bird foraging on the ground, affording me a nice long look in perfect light. It wasn’t easy, but I resisted the temptation to dance.
I made slightly better progress with my yard list in 2006, adding two new species. The first of those, a common yellowthroat, was No. 100. Of all the lists you can keep, I think the yard list is the most personal and possibly the most rewarding. It’s your property after all, so feeding, habitat creation and identifications depend on your efforts alone. For me, seeing an uncommon bird in the yard is more satisfying than seeing that same bird in the field.
I’m not a chronic lister (I swear!), but I do have a few other favorite lists. One is for Florida, where my parents live most of the year. I try to add a few species whenever I’m there. The list benefited substantially from a birding festival I attended in Tampa a few years back, a trip to Dry Tortugas National Park and multiple visits to the Everglades.
Sadly, some lists come to an end. It happened this year when my in-laws sold their home at Kiawah Island, S.C. We had the good fortune to visit there for many years, and during those times I saw some amazing birds, many of them “lifers.” Painted buntings love it at Kiawah, and I loved watching them. I’ll keep my Kiawah list on file in case we ever go back, but for now it’s officially retired.
I blame Donald Trump for another favorite list that ceased to be. Sapsucker Court was the unofficial name for a little downtown Chicago plaza between the Wrigley Building and former Sun-Times Building. I walked through it every morning on my way to work and kept close track of the birds, growing my list to 66 species. Now the courtyard is gone, blown up to make way for The Donald’s massive condo tower now under construction. Too bad—not for me, for the birds. I’m hopeful that some decent green space will be restored once the project is complete.
You can enjoy birding without keeping lists, just like you can enjoy golf without keeping score. In my opinion, though, the ritual of list-keeping is part of the fun. Dancing is optional.
Copyright 2006 by Jeff Reiter. All rights reserved.
(published 12-28-06)
Seeing a bird for the first time is a great feeling, so I can understand why it leads some birders to do the “life bird dance.” I’ve never actually seen this performed, but I picture it looking something like a sandhill crane’s courtship ritual—interesting, but not terribly graceful.
My own ritual following a first-time sighting is to make a hand-written entry in the birdwatcher’s logbook I’ve been using for about a dozen years. I keep a master list on my computer hard drive too, as a back up, but that’s just a bunch of bird names without any details. The log contains all the meaningful stuff, and it would be one of the first things I’d reach for if my house was burning down.
I didn’t travel much in 2006, so my life list was stuck on 450 species all year. That is, until October 29. That day I drove to the Chicago lakefront in search of my first snow bunting, a bird I’d been pursuing for years. I knew from Internet postings that my chances were pretty good. Migrating snow buntings were reported on Montrose beach for several days leading up to my visit.
Within two hours of arrival I had the bird. Several small flocks of snow buntings were swirling around that morning, and fortunately I spotted a solitary bird foraging on the ground, affording me a nice long look in perfect light. It wasn’t easy, but I resisted the temptation to dance.
I made slightly better progress with my yard list in 2006, adding two new species. The first of those, a common yellowthroat, was No. 100. Of all the lists you can keep, I think the yard list is the most personal and possibly the most rewarding. It’s your property after all, so feeding, habitat creation and identifications depend on your efforts alone. For me, seeing an uncommon bird in the yard is more satisfying than seeing that same bird in the field.
I’m not a chronic lister (I swear!), but I do have a few other favorite lists. One is for Florida, where my parents live most of the year. I try to add a few species whenever I’m there. The list benefited substantially from a birding festival I attended in Tampa a few years back, a trip to Dry Tortugas National Park and multiple visits to the Everglades.
Sadly, some lists come to an end. It happened this year when my in-laws sold their home at Kiawah Island, S.C. We had the good fortune to visit there for many years, and during those times I saw some amazing birds, many of them “lifers.” Painted buntings love it at Kiawah, and I loved watching them. I’ll keep my Kiawah list on file in case we ever go back, but for now it’s officially retired.
I blame Donald Trump for another favorite list that ceased to be. Sapsucker Court was the unofficial name for a little downtown Chicago plaza between the Wrigley Building and former Sun-Times Building. I walked through it every morning on my way to work and kept close track of the birds, growing my list to 66 species. Now the courtyard is gone, blown up to make way for The Donald’s massive condo tower now under construction. Too bad—not for me, for the birds. I’m hopeful that some decent green space will be restored once the project is complete.
You can enjoy birding without keeping lists, just like you can enjoy golf without keeping score. In my opinion, though, the ritual of list-keeping is part of the fun. Dancing is optional.
Copyright 2006 by Jeff Reiter. All rights reserved.
Right place, right time: When good luck prevails
(published 11-1-06)
Luck and chance play a big role in bird watching. It’s part of the fun, and everyone seems to have a story about the time a really great bird made a surprise appearance.
I’ve shared a few “luck stories” myself in this space, most recently about an improbable yard visit by a pair of green herons. For this column, however, I invited a few of my DuPage Birding Club colleagues to relate some of their luckier moments in the field. The hardest thing, they told me, was choosing just one.
Jeff Chapman, from Woodridge, recalled a cold November day when he was birding with his wife at Morton Arboretum. They were looking for crossbills in the hemlock area when Melinda’s back stiffened up.
“To stretch it out, she would get in a catcher’s stance while I held her hands so she could lean back,” says Chapman. “As I was holding her hands I looked up into a white pine and saw a Northern saw-whet owl staring back at me. He was not more than a few feet above our heads!”
It was only the second saw-whet Chapman had ever seen. The tiny species is a rare visitor here and quite difficult to find. This owl was in the open, but would he have noticed it if he hadn’t been helping his wife? Maybe, maybe not. He thinks luck had a lot to do with it.
Susan Kaley from Naperville described the time she was biking on the Prairie Path and, on a whim, decided to take a different route than usual. Near Timber Ridge Forest Preserve she heard an unusual bird sound. So she jumped off her bike, pulled out her binoculars, and was soon looking at a prairie warbler—a truly rare bird in DuPage County and a new entry on Kaley's life list.
“It was exciting,” she says, “and you can imagine my relief when other people went out and reported seeing the bird, too.”
This last story is my favorite. Kate Frazier, from Batavia, was birding in Rocky Mountain National Park with her husband Jim and some friends. Their “target bird” one morning was the three-toed woodpecker. They went to a spot where the species had been seen before and waited. And waited. Finally, they decided to move on and try another place. But Frazier stayed back to take care of some personal business—nature was calling. And then, as she was doing her thing in the underbrush, a male three-toed woodpecker landed on a tree beside her!
“Imagine my dilemma,” she recalls. “If I finish what I’ve begun, the bird may fly away and no one will believe I saw it. But if I yell loud enough, three people are going to turn around and see a sight they don’t want to see.”
Luckily, the woodpecker was cooperative. After Frazier reassembled herself she caught up to the group and led them to the bird, a “lifer” for all.
For sure, some birders are luckier than others. They’re the ones who are always prepared, always ready for something unusual. I know people who have seen golden eagles pass over DuPage County—this fall, in fact. That’s lucky by any measure, but they knew what to watch for.
And take my friend Susan. She’d never seen a prairie warbler before but she’d heard a recording of one, so she hit the brakes.
Me? Well, when those green herons appeared last June I had a garden hose in one hand and a coffee cup in the other. But my eyes and ears were open, and binoculars were around my neck.
Copyright 2006 by Jeff Reiter. All rights reserved.
(published 11-1-06)
Luck and chance play a big role in bird watching. It’s part of the fun, and everyone seems to have a story about the time a really great bird made a surprise appearance.
I’ve shared a few “luck stories” myself in this space, most recently about an improbable yard visit by a pair of green herons. For this column, however, I invited a few of my DuPage Birding Club colleagues to relate some of their luckier moments in the field. The hardest thing, they told me, was choosing just one.
Jeff Chapman, from Woodridge, recalled a cold November day when he was birding with his wife at Morton Arboretum. They were looking for crossbills in the hemlock area when Melinda’s back stiffened up.
“To stretch it out, she would get in a catcher’s stance while I held her hands so she could lean back,” says Chapman. “As I was holding her hands I looked up into a white pine and saw a Northern saw-whet owl staring back at me. He was not more than a few feet above our heads!”
It was only the second saw-whet Chapman had ever seen. The tiny species is a rare visitor here and quite difficult to find. This owl was in the open, but would he have noticed it if he hadn’t been helping his wife? Maybe, maybe not. He thinks luck had a lot to do with it.
Susan Kaley from Naperville described the time she was biking on the Prairie Path and, on a whim, decided to take a different route than usual. Near Timber Ridge Forest Preserve she heard an unusual bird sound. So she jumped off her bike, pulled out her binoculars, and was soon looking at a prairie warbler—a truly rare bird in DuPage County and a new entry on Kaley's life list.
“It was exciting,” she says, “and you can imagine my relief when other people went out and reported seeing the bird, too.”
This last story is my favorite. Kate Frazier, from Batavia, was birding in Rocky Mountain National Park with her husband Jim and some friends. Their “target bird” one morning was the three-toed woodpecker. They went to a spot where the species had been seen before and waited. And waited. Finally, they decided to move on and try another place. But Frazier stayed back to take care of some personal business—nature was calling. And then, as she was doing her thing in the underbrush, a male three-toed woodpecker landed on a tree beside her!
“Imagine my dilemma,” she recalls. “If I finish what I’ve begun, the bird may fly away and no one will believe I saw it. But if I yell loud enough, three people are going to turn around and see a sight they don’t want to see.”
Luckily, the woodpecker was cooperative. After Frazier reassembled herself she caught up to the group and led them to the bird, a “lifer” for all.
For sure, some birders are luckier than others. They’re the ones who are always prepared, always ready for something unusual. I know people who have seen golden eagles pass over DuPage County—this fall, in fact. That’s lucky by any measure, but they knew what to watch for.
And take my friend Susan. She’d never seen a prairie warbler before but she’d heard a recording of one, so she hit the brakes.
Me? Well, when those green herons appeared last June I had a garden hose in one hand and a coffee cup in the other. But my eyes and ears were open, and binoculars were around my neck.
Copyright 2006 by Jeff Reiter. All rights reserved.
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