Eastern Wild Turkey

The other day, I saw a large band of Wild Turkeys, two dozen or more, cross the road up from my house. Perhaps these were the same turkeys I watched throughout the spring and summer. Then there were two or three hens with their broods of chicks trailing after. Periodically, while driving, I’d intersect these turkeys crossing the same stretch of road that cuts through the woodland adjacent to my property. As the months passed I watched these chicks get bigger and bigger. (Photo courtesy of U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service.)

I’m lucky to live on the edge of expansive woodland. I regularly take walks with my three dogs through these woods and often find telltale signs of turkeys, their “scratchings” in the leaf litter for insects and berries. And more than once, I’ve stumbled into a band, especially, when the dogs are off scouting elsewhere. On one such occasion, I startled a large flock rummaging on a wooded hillside. Their alarm calls filled the air—put-put-put—and everywhere turkeys crashed through the underbrush and up into the trees. Some glided above the tree line. It was quite exhilarating.

Whenever I’m out with the dogs, I always keep eyes and ears open for whatever birds may cross my path. And they always do!

Till next time . . . happy birding!

Georgia Anne

The Mourning Dove

During the Great Backyard Bird Count, I didn’t get too much farther than my own yard. The strongest showing therein was the American Goldfinch, a huge flock that I’ve been feeding now for many weeks. Next in number came the Pine Siskin, a smaller flock also enjoying a daily bounty of black-oil sunflower seeds. (See my earlier reports on these two species.) In fact, my list of birds for the annual backyard count included only one bird not already profiled by me in during these winter months—the Mourning Dove.

Among the much smaller finches and sparrows typically at my feeder, the Mourning Dove looks like a big, lumbering chicken. Well, not at all like a chicken, but big and plump, with a long pointed tail. Mourning Doves get their name from the sound of their song, a soft cooing sound (that some people confuse with the call of an owl), said to sound mournful or sad. (The photo provided here courtesy of the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service clearly shows the dove's light blue eye-ring.)

These gentle, shy birds roost in small flocks within in my locust tree, waiting their turn at the sunflower seeds. Sometimes gray squirrels will raid the area, scaring off all the smaller birds, allowing the doves to flutter in one by one, finally to make a claim.

Mourning Doves are as soft in color as disposition, being light gray with buff-colored breasts, though both males and females possess a wash of more colorful tones (pink and/or green). What make these birds special to me are their whistling wings when taking flight. Imagine: a bird that makes music while it flies!

Until next time . . . happy birding!

Georgia Anne

The Great Backyard Bird Count

Yesterday began the Great Backyard Bird Count, "an annual four-day event that engages bird watchers of all ages in counting birds to create a real-time snapshot of where the birds are across the continent" (http://www.birdsource.org/gbbc/whycount.html).

You can participate (from your own backyard) for one or all four days of this event! Read more now at Bird Source (see above URL).

I'm starting today and so must get offline to see what birds are in my yard. A quick glance outside shows a gray squirrel under my feeder, which has my dogs in hysterics--ha! I guess I'll bundle up and go out with them, with my binoculars and notepad in hand.

Till later . . . happy birding!
Georgia Anne

The Red-tailed Hawk

Yesterday I took a trip into State College, PA, and when taking an exit ramp off of Rt. 322, I saw a hawk perched atop a telephone pole. At a glance, I suspected it was a Buteo because it was large and chunky. (The genus Buteo includes, among others, the Red-shouldered, Broad-winged, and Rough-legged Hawk.)

However, hawk identification is no easy matter, especially given there is such wide variation in plumage among the species in the genus Buteo. Add the fact that these hawks must grow into their adult plumage (youngsters have different markings) AND that some species are polymorphic, meaning members can be lighter or darker in plumage—and you begin to understand the challenge of hawk identification.

For me, the easiest way to identify a Red-tailed Hawk is to see one soaring in the sky on a sunny day. When looking from below, you’ll see the sun illuminate the brick red of the hawk’s fanned tail. The other sure-fire method is to hear its call. And yesterday I was lucky enough to do just that! When I stopped my car just long enough to get another look at the hawk (with binoculars), it flew up and away. “Missed that opportunity,” I though, pulling away. But then I heard it. The Red-tail’s unmistakable call.

Every hawk has its own signature sound, the Red-tail’s call is sometimes call “raspy,” but there’s no way to truly characterize it with words. You have to hear it. Cornell Lab of Ornithology’s web site All About Birds provides an audio file for each bird. Check out the site and listen to the Red-tail’s stirring call. You’ll know it next time you hear it for sure! (Both photos are courtesy of U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service.)

Until next time . . . happy birding!

Georgia Anne

The Northern Cardinal

The bright red breast of the male Northern Cardinal is quite a sight against a snow-laden hemlock. (Photo--though not of a snowy scene--courtesy of Charles H. Warren.) Happily, living here in central Pennsylvania, I frequently see cardinals in the snow. I suspect that mostly everyone knows the male Northern Cardinal by sight—this bird’s striking red color demands attention! Yet let’s not forget the female cardinal who, though less showy, possesses the more sophisticated look. When spying on the female though binoculars, I'm sometimes convinced that she's the more beautiful. Her grayish feathers are so stylishly tinged with red on the wings, tail, and crest.

The cardinals who visit my feeder also take a keen interest in the outside mirrors of my car. All through the warm seasons, these birds amuse themselves by looking for their reflections in the mirrors. It's a comical thing to see, but then the white droppings that splatter the side of my red car are somewhat less funny. Ha!

And when it comes to singing, in the spring and summer, the Northern Cardinal is perhaps as vocal as even the noisiest birds (in that category, Blue Jays and American Crows come to mind). Like everything else about the Northern Cardinal, their clear, strong whistles command attention, appreciation, and certainly admiration! Listen to their varied songs at All About Birds (sponsored by the Cornell Lab of Ornithology). Once you recognize the songs of the Northern Cardinal, you'll never mistake it.

Till later . . . happy birding!

Georgia Anne