For the Birds: Nesting season has its ups and downs

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Photo by Chris Bosak
A northern flicker hollows out a hole in a snag for a potential nest site, New England, April 2026.

While the majority of spring migrants are still working their way north, many of New England’s year-round birds are already getting down to the business of nesting.

I’m sure I’ll see plenty of nesting activity as the spring progresses, but last week I witnessed two interesting scenes related to nesting. 

The first was in my backyard. As I approached one of my birdfeeders to throw in a handful of safflower seed, I noticed a northern flicker dart off into the woods. Its white rump patch gave away its identification. I was fairly certain the flicker had been clinging to a topped-off dead tree a dozen or so yards away from the feeder, and I made a note to approach the feeder more carefully next time.

Sure enough, I returned half an hour later and found a flicker on the same snag. I kept my distance this time and watched as the flicker worked on hollowing out a hole in the snag. I observed for a few minutes and went back into the house.

Over the next several days, I watched a male and female flicker take turns hollowing out the hole. It was slow-going, but the flickers kept at it dutifully. I’ll continue to watch the progress, and, hopefully, the flickers will successfully build a nest there and raise young. That would make for an interesting spring and summer in my yard.

Watching how slow the progress was and how much work the flickers put into making the cavity, I have new respect for woodpeckers and how difficult the job of securing the future of the species is. I also see why so many birds and animals utilize old woodpecker holes for their own nesting purposes. The hard construction work has already been done.

I read that flickers are uncommon among woodpeckers in that they often reuse cavities from the previous year. I don’t blame them. I can’t imagine doing that every year.

From that hopeful scene to one a bit darker: I was sitting in my office when I noticed movement through the window. The motion stopped in a tangle of vines where the parking lot and woods meet. I lifted my binoculars (yes, I have a pair at the office) and spotted a robin sitting in a nest. I was excited and concerned at the same time. While the nest itself was pretty well hidden, it was right at the edge of the woods and fairly obvious with the bird in the nest.

I watched a male and female come and go throughout the day and even shared the news with some co-workers. Even while I thought about how neat it would be to have a flicker nesting at my home and nesting robins visible through my window at work, I remained cautiously optimistic about the robins.

Later in the afternoon, I saw a blur flash past my window. By this time, a car in the lot had blocked part of my view of the vines where the nest had been built. I had a feeling what the blur was, but hoped I was wrong.

I stood, and my fears were realized. A red-shouldered hawk was standing on the nest tearing it apart. The robins took a few swipes at the hawk, but the larger bird of prey hardly seemed to notice. 

The robins, of course, abandoned the nest and haven’t returned. Thankfully, it’s still very early in the season, and the robins can try again–hopefully, in a better place next time. 

I was confused about the encounter. The obvious conclusion is that the hawk raided the nest to eat the eggs. However, I don’t think the robins had eggs in the nest yet. I had just noticed the robins for the first time that day. Surely, since it was in direct sight of my office window, I would have noticed the robins building the nest prior to that day.

Then why would the hawk go after the nest like that? Maybe it attacked the nest in the hopes that there would be eggs or baby birds in it and came up empty. Or perhaps it was a territorial message, as red-shouldered hawks do nest on the property.

Regardless of the reason, I wish the robins luck with their next attempt. I also wish the hawk luck on its next quest for food. And, of course, I wish the flickers luck in their nesting season.

For the Birds: The shore comes through again

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Photo by Chris Bosak – A male piping plover (background) moves toward a female plover at Milford Point, April 2026.

The spring migration has certainly begun, but it is still in the building-up phase.

I took a few walks in the woods over the last few days and saw some very welcomed migrants, such as pine warbler, palm warbler, yellow-rumped warbler and Louisiana waterthrush. 

When migration is just picking up, however, the action can be hit or miss. In a few weeks, the action will be all hits all the time, and I’m sure we are all looking forward to that.

While those first migrants are great to see after a long winter, they also whet the appetite to see more spring migrants. The woods will be hit or miss for the next several days anyway, so the other day I went to a spot where I knew I would see a few old feathered friends that I hadn’t seen since last summer.

The coast, whether it is the Atlantic Ocean, one of its many bays in New England, or Long Island Sound, is a safe place to find some early shorebird migrants in April. I had a little time, so I headed for one of my favorite spots along the Long Island Sound shoreline in southwestern Connecticut. The spot, the Coastal Center at Milford Point, rarely disappoints, and this time, it was certainly on the mark again.

In terms of sheer numbers and variety, the action was OK, but in terms of quality, it was a well worthwhile trip. One side of the sanctuary is a large tidal bay, and I immediately spotted an osprey pair on its usual nesting platform, as well as dozens of brant and a sizable number of green-winged teal.

The other side of the sanctuary, which features a long sand spit and the whole of Long Island Sound, is where the real action takes place in April, as piping plovers and American oystercatchers return to their breeding grounds. 

Last year, I made a similar trip a little later in April and was lucky enough to find a piping plover mother with two chicks following closely behind. This year, by chance, I timed it to coincide with the mating season and saw several males displaying and chasing females, and even caught one pair in copulation.

It was good to see the breeding activity, as piping plovers are a species in decline. The Cornell Lab of Ornithology has a paragraph on its website explaining the conservation status as such: “The 2025 State of the Birds report lists Piping Plover as an Orange Alert Tipping Point species, meaning that it has lost more than 50% of its population in the past 50 years and has shown accelerated declines within the past decade. Partners in Flight estimates a global breeding population of 8,400 individuals and rates the species a 16 out of 20 on the Continental Concern Score.”

The sand spit offers a good opportunity to get relatively close to piping plovers. The area where nesting activity occurs is generously roped off to give the birds plenty of space to do their thing. 

There were several pairs of oystercatchers as well. Oystercatchers, with their large size, massive orange bills and ubiquitous high-pitched call, are consistently on my ever-changing list of favorite birds. 

Given the choice, I would pick the woods over the shore almost every time. The shore, however, does call to me on occasion, and I’m always glad when I hearken to the call.

(See more photos in my previous post here.)

Successful day finding migrants

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Photo by Chris Bosak
White-eyed vireo at Huntington State Park, Redding, Conn., April 24, 2026.

I got up early and headed to Huntington State Park in Redding, Connecticut, and was rewarded with a good mix of migrants I hadn’t seen since last year.

Photo by Chris Bosak
Blue-gray gnatcatcher at Huntington State Park, Redding, Conn., April 24, 2026.

Fun, feisty little bird.

Photo by Chris Bosak
Yellow-bellied sapsucker at Huntington State Park, Redding, Conn., April 24, 2026.

Not exactly a migrant, and I had seen sapsuckers all winter, but I had to include this handsome bird anyway. This is a male as indicated by the red throat.

Photo by Chris Bosak
Louisiana waterthrush at Huntington State Park, Redding, Conn., April 24, 2026.

I’ve been seeing these for a few weeks now.

Photo by Chris Bosak
Hooded warbler at Huntington State Park, Redding, Conn., April 24, 2026

Not the best photo, of course, but this was as close as I could get. Cool bird though.

Photo by Chris Bosak
White-eyed vireo at Huntington State Park, Redding, Conn., April 24, 2026.

For the Birds: How are moose doing these days anyway?

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Photo by Chris Bosak – A cow moose in Pittsburg, NH, in the early 2000s.

I was lucky enough to live through New Hampshire’s golden age of moose.

The moose population in the state peaked at somewhere around 7,000 to 8,000 in the mid- to late-1990s. At the time, I worked a four-day week and had Sunday, Monday and Tuesday off each week. Working until midnight on Fridays and Saturdays wasn’t great for my social life, but it was ideal for camping trips. As I headed to northern New Hampshire on Sunday afternoons, most people were packing up and going back home to start the workweek.

I had my choice of campsites at Deer Mountain State Park in Pittsburg, and I had my choice of ponds on which to canoe. Rarely did I see other paddlers on the ponds. But I saw plenty of moose. I won’t exaggerate and say I saw dozens on each trip, but I certainly saw four or five either on the ponds or along the roads each time I went. I can’t recall a trip where I didn’t see at least a few moose.

My most memorable canoe trip came on a Monday after a Fourth of July weekend when I had my favorite pond to myself in the evening and three bull moose lumbered out from different parts of the surrounding woods and settled into the pond with me. That was 30-odd years ago, and I still vividly remember the splashing noise the water made as it cascaded off their velvet-covered antlers when they picked up their heads with a mouth full of aquatic plants.

Those were the good old days.

Then, my life situation changed. I moved farther away and worked normal hours and days. My trips up north decreased dramatically and were relegated to typical weekend days.

More importantly, the moose started to disappear. Slowly at first and then dramatically.

The state’s moose population is now estimated to be about 3,000. A combination of winter ticks, brainworm and changing habitat essentially cut the moose population in half, or more.

The decline started in the early 2000s and received a boatload of press for many years. I wrote my own news article for the Keene Sentinel on the subject in 2019. Lately, it seems to me anyway, the updates have subsided. How are moose doing now? Still decreasing? Perhaps increasing?

It seems like it’s neither, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing.

“The moose population has been relatively stable for the last five years,” Henry Jones, Moose Project Leader for New Hampshire Fish and Game Department, said last week. “It varies locally, with some areas up and some down. Overall, the population has been declining for 20 years.”

Why is that not necessarily bad news? The golden age of moose I mentioned before may have been too much of a good thing. The density of moose in some areas was too high and not sustainable. High moose density allows for winter ticks to thrive. More moose, more ticks. Fewer moose, fewer ticks.

Jones, who received his bachelor’s and master’s degrees from University of New Hampshire, said the goal is to conserve the moose population while still being able to offer recreational opportunities. Last year, the state issued 35 moose hunting permits and there was a 70 percent success rate. This year, the state will again issue 35 permits.

Goal number one for moose in the New Hampshire Big Game Management Plan 2026-2035 calls for population levels that “allow them to be in good physical condition and are realistic for habitat conditions.”

With winter ticks decimating the moose up north, a relatively small population compared to the 1990s is desirable. Why have 7,000 moose if most of them are going to die or become extremely weak due to the ticks slowly and excruciatingly bleeding them dry?

As much as I’d love to head north and see as many moose as I used to, conditions no longer support that. It pains me to say that because I have great memories of seeing so many moose back then, but this is the new reality.

While we may not see a glut of moose again in the state, with the help of biologists at New Hampshire Fish and Game, moose in sustainable numbers will be around for a long time.

Piping plovers and oystercatchers highlight trip to shore

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Photo by Chris Bosak
A male piping plover (back) pursues a female at Milford Point in New England, April 16, 2026.

I took a trip to the Connecticut Audubon Society Coastal Center at Milford Point today to see piping plovers, American oystercatchers, and whatever else may be around. I timed it nicely, as I found several piping plover pairs doing their mating ritual and even saw one pair copulating.

The male plovers followed the females around the rocks and sand, standing tall and performing a type of stomp dance with their feet and legs. It was quite entertaining.

While the plovers and oystercatchers were the highlight, there were dozens (hundreds maybe) of brant still hanging around New England.

Photo by Chris Bosak
A male piping plover (back) pursues a female at Milford Point in New England, April 16, 2026.
Photo by Chris Bosak
A male piping plover (back) pursues a female at Milford Point in New England, April 16, 2026.
Photo by Chris Bosak
Piping plovers copulate at Milford Point in New England, April 16, 2026.
Photo by Chris Bosak
Piping plovers copulate at Milford Point in New England, April 16, 2026.
Photo by Chris Bosak
Piping plovers copulate at Milford Point in New England, April 16, 2026.
Photo by Chris Bosak
American oystercatcher pair at Milford Point in New England, April 16, 2026.
Photo by Chris Bosak
Brant at Milford Point in New England, April 16, 2026.
Photo by Chris Bosak
A male piping plover (back) pursues a female at Milford Point in New England, April 16, 2026.

For the Birds: Keeping up with species in peril

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Photo by Chris Bosak
Monarch, Brookfield, CT, summer 2019.

Too often, the perils facing a species in serious decline rise to the top of our consciousness through extensive media coverage or other means only to fade into the backs of our minds over time.

Is progress being made to help the species? Has the decline worsened, gotten better or stayed the same?

Here is a look at a few species in peril that were all over the media years ago, but not so much in recent years. 

Remember when monarch butterflies were believed to be going extinct and had only a few years left? That news took on a life of its own in the mid-2010s due to a catastrophic population collapse caused mainly by habitat loss. 

It turns out the apocalyptic predictions may not have been right, but the species is far from out of the woods. The latest reports show short-term improvement but significant long-term declines.

The World Wildlife Fund last month published an article entitled “Monarch butterfly population increases by 64 percent.” The article states that the population increase is buoyed by a reduction in forest degradation of their winter habitat. 

While that is definitely good news, I’m slightly skeptical about how they obtained the 64 percent number. Scientists do not actually count or estimate the number of butterflies they see (that would be nearly impossible to do) but rather monitor how many acres of forest have monarch colonies in their winter range. In 2026, 7.24 acres were inhabited by monarchs compared to 4.42 acres last year.

Again, good news for sure, but the long-term decline is still grim considering they covered 45 acres just 30 years ago, according to the WWF. Hopefully, this short-term increase trend continues.

What about honey bees? Remember how the media told us we were all going to starve because honey bees were disappearing? Indeed, Colony Collapse Disorder in the mid-2000s wiped out about 30 percent of the honey bee colonies, and those losses continue today in some areas due to factors such as mite infestation, pesticides, and habitat loss.

The panic over the loss of honey bees created a surge in home beekeeping, which has helped keep overall population numbers relatively stable. Unfortunately, recent years have seen an uptick in bee colony mortality, with 2025 being one of the worst years yet. 

Extinction is not imminent, but all bees, either wild or part of a managed colony, should remain in the public consciousness as the consequences of a bee-less world are severe.

Bats are another animal that received a lot of concern due to a precipitous decline. The panic was warranted as some species were nearly completely wiped out by white-nose syndrome that came to New Hampshire in 2009. Similar to the monarchs and honey bees, bats seem to be making a slow comeback. 

Despite the recent success, historic numbers are still concerning. Caves that used to house thousands of bats now have hundreds. According to a University of New Hampshire report last month, one bat survey counted more than 3,000 bats in 2009 and only 16 in 2011. That’s how quick and devastating the fungus was. In 2022, the number was up to 700.

Next week, I’ll look at a decline that is near and dear to my heart. Ever since I saw my first moose in the early 1990s, they have been my favorite animal at times bordering on obsession. Sadly, their numbers took a huge hit in recent years. Are they making a comeback, or are they still struggling?

For the Birds: Questioning some ‘wisdom’ in a birding article

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Photo by Chris Bosak A Rose-breasted Grosbeak visits a feeder in Danbury, Conn., May 2016.
Photo by Chris Bosak
A Rose-breasted Grosbeak visits a feeder in Danbury, Conn., May 2016. By not feeding birds, people will miss out on scenes like this.

Here’s my cynical take on a bird article printed on the website of a national nonprofit agency whose mission has nothing to do with birds. I won’t reveal the agency to protect the innocent.

The headline grabbed my attention, which is what headlines are supposed to do, I guess. It read: 7 Reasons to Think Twice Before Getting a Bird-feeder.

Right away, I knew I wouldn’t like the article, but I figured I would read it anyway and at least give it a chance. I was right, of course, but at least I can say I gave it a fair shot.

The article makes some good points, but, in my opinion, it misses the mark for the most part. It basically picks apart the hobby of feeding birds and outlines every possible negative scenario.

It’s like saying you should avoid building model airplanes because you might get glue on your fingers. Well, of course, you might, but you take precautions so that doesn’t happen, and if it does, then you wash your hands.

Or, you should avoid gardening because it might make your back ache, or you might dig up some insects that are scary-looking. Well, if your back starts to hurt, then stop for a while. If you see a scary insect, get over it because you know that’s inherent to the hobby.

Anyway, here are the seven reasons why this article urges you to think twice about feeding birds. I will make my cynical comments after each one.

1. Bird feeders are messy. Birds flick seeds on the ground and leave behind remnants of the seeds they do eat. 

No kidding. Clean up the seeds and shells under the feeder if you don’t want to look at them. 

2. There’s a lot of upkeep. Bird feeders need to be kept clean just like our dishes and utensils. 

I agree that they need to be kept clean to prevent the spread of disease. The article recommends cleaning them with a 10% bleach to 90% water solution every 7 to ten days. To me, that doesn’t seem like such an onerous task that it would make me think twice about getting a bird feeder and miss out on the enjoyment it brings. 

3. They can be pricey.

Yes, it can be pricey. But it doesn’t have to be. You don’t have to buy the most expensive feeders and seeds. I think everyone knows that they should spend what they feel comfortable with. Nyjer seeds are expensive, so I don’t buy them often. Instead, I buy less expensive types of seeds like black oil sunflower. Don’t skimp too much, though, and buy the cheap seed mixes that only sparrows like.

4. Sick birds can infect one another.

True, but regular cleaning, which has already been covered in number 2, can help diminish the possibility. Also, pandemic-like outbreaks among wild birds are rare. A few years ago, several bird and conservation groups recommended pausing bird feeding because of an outbreak. That’s the first time I can remember that happening in my lifetime. To me, it’s like saying people shouldn’t ever go to concerts or amusement parks or the grocery store because someone might be sick and infect everyone. 

5. Bird feeders attract unwanted critters. Squirrels, chipmunks and raccoons are also attracted to feeders, and rats and mice may get into your seed supply.

Again, for me, the rewards of bird feeding far outweigh the occasional run-in with these critters. Squirrels and chipmunks can be really annoying, but they are basically harmless and can actually be fun to watch sometimes. My worst experience came when I left a bag of sunflower seeds in my three-season porch, and pantry moths got in. That was not a fun experience, to say the least, but I learned from it and didn’t do that again. Bears, which the article does not mention, are another legitimate concern, depending on where one lives, but winter bird feeding is still a possibility.

6. They bring health concerns. Bird feeders can spread disease and even cause an increase in ticks in the area as they fall off the birds. 

This is basically a repeat of numbers 2 and 4. Again, keep the feeders clean. As far as ticks are concerned, I’ve never heard that before and am skeptical about that assertion. 

7. They can harm local wildlife. Birds can crash into windows if the feeders are not placed properly and non-native species like starlings are attracted to feeders.

Well, starlings don’t need bird feeders to be a nuisance. I’ve seen plenty of starlings in places without feeders. And, yes, it is recommended that feeders be placed within three feet or more than 30 feet of windows to avoid strikes.

The article seemingly attempts to throw cold water on a hobby enjoyed by more than 50 million people, according to the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. To me, the reasons are flimsy at best. It takes worst-case scenarios and tries to paint them as regular occurrences. 

I could get hit by a bus tomorrow, but that doesn’t mean I’m never going to leave the house. Yes, bird feeding does carry some responsibility and expense and does take some effort, but it’s one hundred percent worth it. The only thing I’m thinking twice about is visiting that website again. 

For the Birds: Spring waterfowl migration never disappoints

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Photo by Chris Bosak – A male common merganser swims on a small pond in New England.

There is a pond 20 minutes from my house that I pass frequently. For 50 weeks of the year, the pond holds little interest for me other than being an aesthetically pleasing landmark to look at as I drive past.

In the summer, a few mallards and Canada geese are the only birds present. It being a small pond in New England, it is frozen for most of the winter, which is great for the skaters who have fun on the ice, but not so much for birdwatchers.

However, during one week in early spring and one week in late fall, the pond holds a surprisingly solid variety of migrating ducks. 

The other day when I drove past, I noticed a bunch of white blobs in the water, and, even at 40 mph, I knew just what they were.

I pulled over at the closest spot where it was safe to do so and turned the car around. From a spot along the road about 30 yards from the pond’s edge, I was able to confirm that indeed they were common mergansers. For a small pond, it held quite a few of the large waterfowl. Common mergansers happen to be one of my favorite birds, so I lingered at that spot along the road for close to an hour watching them.

In previous years, I have seen hooded mergansers perform their courtship display on this pond. To my delight, the common mergansers were doing their courtship display on this day.

Also to my pleasant surprise, the mergansers were not the only duck species on the pond. As I was watching the mergansers dive and resurface, a small group of ring-necked ducks came over to join the party. They did not stay long among the common mergansers but rather silently floated to the other side of the pond. As I followed the ring-necked ducks’ path through my binoculars, I spotted a pair of gadwall on the opposite edge of the pond as well. A few mallards and Canada geese rounded out the fowl sightings.

It was a pleasant hour spent at the pond, especially considering a busy road runs adjacent to one long edge of the pond and the other edge is a residential area. My parking spot was along the residential road.

Yet another pleasing moment of this unexpected birding experience came in the form of a songbird. I had turned off my radio so as to not spook the mergansers away from the pond’s edge. Instead of listening to old songs I’ve heard hundreds of times before or some divisive news channel, I was treated to the sounds of a northern mockingbird showing off his repertoire from a nearby perch. At first, I thought it was an eastern phoebe, but that was just the first mimicked song I heard from the mocker.

I love the spring waterfowl migration. It serves as a link between the early songbird migrants, such as red-winged blackbirds and eastern phoebes, and the multitude of other birds that follow. While the spring waterfowl migration is somewhat predictable (look at just about any unfrozen body of water and you’ll see ducks of some sort), it is fleeting. Ducks and other fowl feel a sense of urgency to get to their northern breeding grounds, and they tend not to linger too long on their migratory stopover spots.

Depending on your location, the variety of waterfowl that pass through New England (and some stay, of course) is pretty impressive. Some of my favorites include common merganser, hooded merganser, northern pintail, northern shoveler, bufflehead and common goldeneye.

The trick is getting out there as often as possible during these few weeks when they are passing through. The other trick is to check all open water. Migrating ducks often end up in unexpected places such as swelled roadside ditches, fast-moving streams, and, of course, small ponds along busy roads.

For the Birds: Phoebes are back, spring is not far behind

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Photo by Chris Bosak
Eastern phoebes are one of the first migrants to return to New England in the spring.

The bird world is amazing. If you’re reading this column, you likely already know that, but every once in a while something reminds me of just how incredible birds really are.

The other day, March 11 to be exact, I heard the song I’ve been waiting to hear for months: the unmistakable two-syllable song of the eastern phoebe. Like many birds, phoebes say their name, a raspy “fee-bee.”

I turned my head toward the song and instantly saw the smallish songbird perched on a telephone wire. Of course, the bird was bobbing its tail as phoebes almost always do.

It was the first phoebe I saw this year, or my FOY (first of year) phoebe in birding lingo. It came on one of the unseasonably warm days we had, and I wasn’t overly surprised to see the bird. Still, it seemed a bit early for the phoebe to be back in New England, so I checked my eBird account to see when I saw my FOY last year.

Sure enough, it was March 11. The first phoebe I saw occurred on the same exact calendar day as last year. In October of last year, this bird left New England for southern U.S. or Mexico. Sometime in February it began its journey back north and arrived at my place of work on the same day as last year. Of course, I can’t tell with all certainty it’s the same bird, but I’d like to think so.

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For the Birds: Finally, a column on old bird names

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Photo by Chris Bosak
The eastern towhee used to be called chewink.

Many months ago, or maybe it was years at this point, I promised to do a column on old bird names. 

Quite frankly, I forgot about it and never got around to doing the column. I can’t even remember what inspired me to consider such a column, but I must have been writing about a bird with a relatively new name and thought it would be a good idea to look at other somewhat recent bird name changes. Perhaps I wrote about a long-tailed duck and recalled the old name of oldsquaw. Regardless of the impetus, here’s that column I promised so long ago.

Now, I did write a column last summer about the most recent name changes by the American Ornithological Society. In that column, I relayed that the powers that be changed the name of the house wren we see in New England to northern house wren. A year earlier, I wrote that the three redpoll species were lumped into a single species called redpoll. 

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