Who knew birds have stories to tell? • Just Joan Online

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Who knew birds have stories to tell?

Original publication date: 1-15-10

Photo by Robert Q. Huguenard

at Jasper/Pulaski Fish and Wildlife Area

December 2009

Well aware of the annual bird count in Sonoma, I feel connected to you as I enjoy a continuous experience of delightful bird-watching in northern Indiana. Both of my sons residing here have numerous feeders to attract splendid varieties of their feathered friends, so for over a week I’ve observed plenty of slate-colored juncos, finches, cowbirds, titmice, black-capped chickadees, cardinals and others. In the process I’ve gained further bird knowledge from my ornithologically savvy sons Chuck and Bob.

I learned, for example, why nuthatches grab a seed and take it away for consumption. These little ones lack the capacity to hold a seed in their claws, so they wedge it into a crevice of a tree trunk in order to break it open with their beaks.
You’re probably familiar with bright yellow and black goldfinches, common in Sonoma. They are in South Bend, Ind., too. In Midwestern wintertime, females are all brown while males retain just a hint of yellow at their throats.
Woodpeckers – hairy, downy and red-bellied are abundant this week, wanting to climb down a tree have to hop backwards, needing their tails to maintain upright balance, while brown creepers just go straight down head first, circling round and round the trunk.
When the blizzard started on New Year’s Day, we cleared snow off feeders and perches as well as the driveways and walks. When snow had not stopped all day long, we found ourselves shoveling until nearly midnight as the beautiful white flakes continued to bombard us. By morning there was another thick coat to clear and we were happy we’d put in the effort the night before. By the time I left the area on Sunday night, Jan. 3, over 20 inches of the white fluffy stuff had beautified the territory, and the birds just kept coming.
Both sons’ homes, about 10 miles apart, are visited regularly by one of two Cooper’s Hawks, fierce predators. My boys pointed out we could always know when one of the accipiters was lurking in a nearby tree because every other bird fled in total panic. With this taking place right outside our sliding glass doors, we could observe birds absolutely stone-still in adjacent trees for many minutes. We don’t know how it is the birds know the neighborhood is safe again, but suddenly they all fly in for some more dinner.
One day a nice fat mourning dove was caught unawares. Happily nibbling on seeds spilled near the base of a picnic table, he never knew what hit him when the Cooper’s Hawk stealthily flew in from the opposite side of the table and swiftly stabbed his talons into the unsuspecting victim, sending a shower of grey feathers into a little circle. We stood ready to watch him consume his prey, but this time he chose to carry it off for consumption in the privacy of a tall pine in the neighbor’s yard.
Then there are the sandhill cranes. About four years ago my son took me and several other friends to the Jasper/Pulaski Fish and Wildlife Area about an hour west of South Bend, where tens of thousands of sandhill Cranes hang out during their migration periods.
This year, Bob spotted a clearly identifiable band on a crane and sent in a report. Now these three- to five-foot tall birds with wingspans of five- or six-feet have become a prime focus for Bob as he has proved to be an invaluable spotter for organizations keeping track of cranes and their behavior.
If you go to the Web site of the International Crane Foundation, savingcranes.com you’ll see on the Crane Research page the exact crane Bob spotted and photographed a few weeks ago. Now, until they decide to belatedly migrate north, Bob’s reporting many sightings of sandhill cranes every week.
This calls to mind Bob’s luck on the golf course. I’m not thinking of his fine swing, but of his rather uncanny ability to see things other folks don’t; he never loses a golf ball and when he steps into the woods to search for an errant ball he invariably comes out with pockets bulging because his eye simply zeroes in on balls other golfers have given up on finding.
This eyesight, aided by a fine scope and camera, has resulted in sightings that have the researchers ecstatic. Anne Lacy, Sandhill Project Manager for International Crane Foundation writes it’s like Christmas to receive Bob’s e-mailed reports with meticulous listings of descriptions and band numbers. On one day alone he reported on 18 banded cranes he spotted in this highest concentration of sandhill cranes east of the Mississippi. Lacy says in most years they get only a few sightings throughout the entire season.
Each banded bird has a known story. One Bob photographed had been banded at least 17 years ago in the Upper Peninsula at the Seney National Wildlife Refuge
Another had an injured leg and the banders were thrilled to know he had survived after his banding a few years ago along with his sister and mother, both of whom have been seen several times.
Typically, cranes mate for life, but sometimes things don’t work out. Bob received the sordid tale of “Y/Bk 326,” a breeding female banded in 1999, who divorced “Y/Bk 328” in 2007 and left the territory to pair with an unbanded male in another neighborhood.
Imagine that!

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