Birds at Feeders 2020-21

 

Red-breasted nuthatch, 11/22/2020

American goldfinch with two pine siskins.  They often flock together.

Pine siskins 2/13/2021

Immature rose-breasted grosbeak, migrant, first bird seen at feeder in autumn 2020 (October)

1. Rose-breasted grosbeak
2. Carolina chickadee
3. Tufted titmouse
4. House finch
5. Purple finch
6. American goldfinch
7. Pine Siskin
8. Ruby-crowned kinglet
9. Carolina wren
10. Downy woodpecker
11. Red-bellied woodpecker
12. Northern mockingbird
13. Brown Thrasher
14. Blue jay
15. Northern junco
16. Palm Warbler
17. Pine Warbler
18. Orange-crowned Warbler
19. Yellow-rumped Warbler
20. Mourning Dove
21. House sparrow
22. White-throated sparrow
23. Chipping Sparrow
24. Northern Cardinal
25. White-breasted nuthatch
26. Red-breasted nuthatch
27. Brown-headed nuthatch
28. Baltimore Oriole
29. Sharp-shinned Hawk
30. Eastern Phoebe

First Bird of the New Feeding Season

This isn't a great photo - taken through the window - but I had to upload it. Last year, though people all over Anderson SC were seeing rose-breasted grosbeaks, we didn't see a single one.

In August I took down our feeders to clean them and put them back up yesterday afternoon. I didn't see anything then. This morning, 10/4/2020, Mike says "There's something unusual at the feeders."  

Lo and behold, an immature male rose-breasted. Who would have thought that this would be our very first bird of the new feeding season!!

Yes, That's Really Its Name

Last week, right after Hurricane Sally, a brown booby was spotted several times at Lake Strom Thurmond, near McCormick.  Okay, reader, we’re not making this up.  This is a real bird that really did come to the lake.  I have no idea how it got its name, but that’s what it is.  And now that we have taken care of that small detail, we can continue.

 

According to the range maps, the brown booby is not supposed to be found north of Miami.  This is a large seabird, living its life in tropical ocean waters worldwide.  It nests on Caribbean or other sea islands, or sometimes on sea debris large enough to support a nest.   Its back and upper parts are brown, with white underparts, and it has a large bluish bill.  

 

Occasionally a stray finds itself further north, usually because of a hurricane or other strong weather system.  Four years ago, another brown booby stayed at the Lake Strom Thurmond dam for two weeks.  This caused quite a stir among the local birding community, and many Carolina birders were able to go to the overlooks at the dam to view this unusual bird.

 

One Friday afternoon, I talked Mike into going to try to see it.  The drive was a haul, going through tiny towns on two-lane roads for a couple of hours.  However, the observation was not to be.  The winds were horrendous.  I could barely hang onto my binoculars, or even myself, on the rocks at the edge of the lake.  We scanned the shore and the bridge for a long time, and drove around to other places with views of the lake, but never did see it.  We did come home through Abbeville and got a nice meal, so the trip was not all in vain.  

 

In 2018, another brown booby was found in the upstate - this one in Greenville, near the bell tower on the lake at Furman.  This bird hung out for most of the month of May, apparently completely blown off course and not sure what to do or where to go.  It was not shy and even seemed like it was posing for pictures. It’s very unusual looking with its large bluish bill, and we enjoyed the treat of seeing a seabird so far out of its range.  We got several good photographs, as did many other local people who came to see it, before it finally disappeared to who knows where. 

 

So there you have it - the brown booby, seen occasionally in the upstate.  The story behind the snicker.  You may now return to your regularly scheduled serious reading.

Why Should I Write About Robins?

 “I think you ought to write about robins,” Mike said randomly one day. Robins! Why in the world would he think robins!  Robins are just--there.  They are one of the most common birds around Anderson and across the entire country - just look at a range map in a field guide or on the internet.  Everywhere. 

 

While thinking about robins, I contacted a bird photographer acquaintance to see if he had a robin photo.  He doesn’t have one, because “I guess I took them too much for granted.”  Exactly.  Why should I write about robins, when other people are unimpressed, and many other species are so much more unusual and interesting?

 

Maybe I’ve never been too excited about robins because their appearance is somewhat nondescript--just dark grey and dull orange.  However, at least one robin color could simply be personal prejudice.  At the risk of alienating some readers -- Mike and I are not too crazy about the color orange, if you get my drift.  

 

I remember as a child of four or five looking out our front window at a robin on our lawn, and my mother explaining to me that they were one of the first birds of spring in our Illinois yard.  Even though in more northern states they’re considered to be harbingers of warmer weather, here in South Carolina we see them year round.  January robins don’t exactly impress us that spring is about to arrive.

 

Robins do have a pretty song, which like most birds is most often heard in the spring.  Their song is similar to a bluebird’s, because both are thrushes, a bird family known for melodic singing.  They are familiar sights in urban yards, running short distances and then stopping to look and listen for worms.  We all have a mental picture from childhood storybooks of a robin pulling up a worm from the ground--even if it’s not something that we actually observe very often.  

 

Which leads me back to the question:  “Why should I write about robins?”  I asked Mike.

 

“Well, look at them,” he said as he glanced over our rain-soaked yard.  Robins were everywhere, spread out over the lawn.  Each was intently working its area, watching and listening for dinner.  “They’re perfect to write about now.  They’re great examples.”

 

I looked at him through unconvinced eyes, wondering again what kind of crazy idea was going through his mind.  “And in what possible way are robins good examples?!” I asked.

 

“They’re smarter than you think.  They’re great at social distancing.”

 

And sure enough, they were perfectly spaced out, at least six feet apart, as if they were following the rules.  Socially correct birds - a perfect topic for these COVID days.  I think I’ll write about robins.

Orchard Orioles and the Unexpected

I’ve learned not to have an agenda for what to find when seeing or listening for birds. It’s a little like going to yard sales.  If I’m specifically looking for a white wicker basket, none will be found in a radius of twenty miles.  However, I had better be on the lookout for just about anything - because otherwise I might overlook the like-new throw rug that is perfect for my porch.  It’s the same with birdwatching.  Always be on the lookout for the unexpected bird that turns out to be something special.

 

That’s where the orchard oriole comes in.  Most people are unfamiliar with this pretty bird.  I have never set out to find an orchard oriole, which is pronounced by bird guides to be “fairly common” in the upstate.  They are lesser-known cousins of the flashier Baltimore orioles, which are black and brilliant orange, and which migrate through our area on the way to their more northern nesting grounds.  The orchard oriole does nest in upstate South Carolina.  The male orchard looks almost identical to a Baltimore male except in its hue of orange: the Baltimore is bright, but the orchard’s shade is much rustier and more subtle.  Females of both species are greenish-yellow, although Baltimore females may be more orange-tinted.

 

We’ve unexpectedly run across orchard orioles three times in our years of wildlife-watching adventures:  the first one at Huntington Beach State Park, one while on vacation at Debordieu Colony near Georgetown, and the third one just a few weeks ago on our farm property.  Mike and I were relaxing in the open doorway of the barn, enjoying the afternoon breezes.  I was certainly not particularly expecting to see one of these beauties, but an orchard oriole, like many other less common birds, tends to sneak in when a person has no idea it is coming.  

 

I saw a brief flash of something moving into the trees to my left; at first I thought it was all black, like a grackle, and then realized that this bird also had some color to it.  It lit on a branch where it could be seen, and a look through binoculars confirmed that it was an oriole.  A second look confirmed its rusty color.  And fortunately it stayed long enough that I could get my sometimes cantankerous camera focused on it and get a picture.  It stayed in the tree for a few minutes - and then it was gone.  If we hadn’t been on the lookout for movement in the trees, we would have never known it had been there. 

 

Finding something I don’t plan to find at a yard sale is always fun.  And that brief unplanned glimpse of an orchard oriole in our trees was fun also--a splash of beauty in an otherwise ordinary day.  It was all the evidence I needed to keep watching for the unexpected.