Take a Closer Look--06//22/07

Just when you feel as if there is nothing new to see in your backyard, Mother Nature throws you a curveball.

Sitting on my porch watching the roaming bands of goldfinches, starlings, cardinals, and rose-breasted grosbeaks, I was starting to fall into a semi-comatose state. Nothing interesting or vaguely different had appeared in about a fortnight and my early-summer birder’s block had officially begun. Between the monotony of filling the feeders every morning at nine o’clock sharp to the nightly appearance of the little red squirrel at about 6:15, I was getting slightly irritated. But, as I said in my opening line, Nature always has a surprise planned for these moments.

It all happened hard and fast. In the morning, as I sat on the patio reading a book, I heard an interesting call. Quickly glancing up from the text, I spotted the striking orange and black plumage of a—gasp—Baltimore Oriole. Not to sound overly dramatic, but I almost dropped my book. Frequent readers of this column know of my irrational obsession with orioles. For years I have tried in vain to attract them to my backyard. I purchased an oriole feeder, put out orange halves, watched, and waited. Every year, one appears for about a nanosecond and then darts away as if to mock my efforts. This particular oriole, however, sat on the clothesline for a good minute before flying away to the woods. The same bird came to the yard for two consecutive days. Though it hasn’t dared to try the feeder yet, I am keeping my fingers crossed.

Later on that same day, I was repairing woodchuck damage on the garden fence when I saw a flicker of black and white and heard the tell-tale scurrying in a nearby pine. Lurking to the base of the tree, I spotted a woodpecker with a bright red head and throat and a dusky yellow breast. I waited until it vanished before rushing into the house and whipping out my field guide. The bird I saw was a Yellow-Bellied Sapsucker. Fairly common in Vermont in the summer, the sapsucker gets its name from its feeding habits. Sapsuckers drill rows of deep, parallel holes in the trunks of trees and proceed to drink the sap. They are usually quiet except during the mating season, when both sexes will emit a low mewing sound. I haven’t seen my sap-sucking friend since last week, but I have heard the familiar tapping in the pine.

Last, but certainly not least, that same evening, I was watering some perennials when I just happened to glance in the direction of the tube feeders. To my delight and shock, I saw a brilliant male Indigo Bunting perched atop the feeder pole. The Bunting is another bird that always seems to slip through my fingers. I had not seen one in the yard for a good three years, so naturally, this sighting thrilled me. The beautiful little bird soon flitted away, but I hope to see him again soon.

Well, Mother Nature, you certainly taught me a lesson: always take a closer look. You never know what you may see next!

Did Mother Nature throw you a curveball? Is there a question you’ve been dying to ask? If so, send me an e-mail at chickadee@att.net Happy Birding!