For the Birds: Look closely at the feeders for something different

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Photo by Chris Bosak A purple finch eats seeds at a feeder in New England, Nov. 2018.
Photo by Chris Bosak
A purple finch eats seeds at a feeder in New England, Nov. 2018.

It’s always a special moment when something different visits the feeder. As long as it’s a cool bird, that is. I had a rat at my feeder years ago, and that wasn’t very cool.

I love most of my regulars and am never disappointed when chickadees, titmice, nuthatches, blue jays, cardinals, mourning doves, Carolina wrens, song sparrows, goldfinches or downy woodpeckers show up. House sparrows and house finches are regulars I could do without, but that’s a story for another day.

The other day, I looked out and saw a rather bland bird sitting on the platform feeder. Female house finch, I thought, and I turned to walk away from the window. After a second or two, my brain caught up with what my eyes had seen, and I realized it was something different.

It was a female purple finch, not house finch. Purple finches and house finches look an awful lot alike, so the immediate dismissal was understandable. A few things stood out to me. The bird was slightly larger and bulkier than the female house finches I’ve become accustomed to seeing daily. Also, the markings on the head were more well-defined, reminiscent of a female rose-breasted grosbeak.

Very cool, I thought. A purple finch. I don’t get those every day at the feeder, so it was a nice little surprise to see her. She stuck around for another day or two and disappeared. It was only the one female too. A whole flock of male and female purple finches would have been even better, but I’ll take the lone female sighting.

It was a timely reminder to look carefully at the birds at the feeder, particularly during times of seasonal transition. If something appears to be slightly different, there’s a good chance it is. It’s also a good reminder to know the regulars very well, so when something different but similar shows up, the brain immediately picks up on it and knows to take a closer look.

Pine siskins may start showing up at New England feeders in the next few months. They can resemble goldfinches or house finches at a cursory glance. If they are dismissed as such, an opportunity to observe a rarer bird can be squandered.

The fall migration may be all but over for most birds, but the action at the feeder doesn’t stop. The other day, I noticed my first junco of the year. That means white-throated sparrows are sure to follow soon.

I haven’t yet seen the winter finch forecast, which predicts the southern movement of northern birds such as pine grosbeaks, evening grosbeaks, purple finches, redpolls and siskins. I’ll look for that and share my thoughts in the coming weeks.

In the meantime, keep an eye on those feeders. Something different and cool might be out there.

For the Birds: Describing bird songs and calls is not an easy task

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Photo by Chris Bosak A Red-bellied Woodpecker takes a peanut from a homemade birdfeeder in Danbury, Conn., spring 2016.
Photo by Chris Bosak
The call of the red-bellied woodpecker is often described as “querulous.”

I was walking across a parking lot at work when I heard a red-bellied woodpecker utter its loud churr call. I looked up and saw it swoop across the lot and land on a nearby tree trunk. It immediately scootched over to the other side of the trunk and disappeared out of view.

It was a perfectly clear and still fall day. The weather was crisp and the sky as blue as can be. The harsh churr abruptly broke the stillness, if only for a second.

Every time I hear a red-bellied woodpecker make that sound, I recall reading it described as “querulous” a long time ago. I had never heard that word before, and I found it fascinating for some reason. Even having never heard the word, at the time it sounded like the perfect description of the sound. Even though I had never heard the word before, it sounded like the perfect description of the sound at that time.

For the record, querulous is defined as “habitually complaining” by Merriam-Webster. Some synonyms include irritable, grouchy, grumpy and fretful. To me anyway, I never thought of the churr call of the red-bellied woodpecker as any of those things. To me, it was just a cool, unique sound I heard every so often in nature.

Now that we’re on the topic, written descriptions of bird songs or calls rarely resonate with me. The mnemonic phrases or adjectives used to describe the sounds only help me after I know the bird song or call already. If I had never heard a red-bellied woodpecker before and someone told me to listen for a querulous sound in the woods, I would never equate that to the sound a red-bellied woodpecker makes.

Even worse (again for me anyway), I had a book once that visualized bird songs using musical notation. Having zero musical talent or background, that obviously didn’t work for me. I did play the violin for one school year, but that was in third grade. I remember nothing.

This is not to say the words to describe bird songs have no value. In some cases, they make perfect sense to me. Again, I have to know the song first and then the words make sense and help to solidify the identification in my brain.

I can clearly make out “old sam peabody, peabody, peabody” when I hear a white-throated sparrow sing now. It wasn’t always that way, however. The northern version of that mnemonic, “oh sweet Canada, Canada, Canada” does not do it for me.

The mnemonics for the eastern towhee’s song and call make sense for me now that I know them and have heard them over and over. Of course it sings “drink your tea” and calls out “tow-hee.” Of course the Carolina wren says “teakettle, teakettle, teakettle,” and the tufted titmouse says “peter-peter-peter.”

Does the ovenbird really say “teacher, teacher, teacher?” Not to me, but maybe it works for other people. Warbler and other migrating bird songs are notoriously difficult to learn because there are so many and most are sung softly. Most of the mnemonics are of little help to me. Black-throated blue warbler: I’m so laa-zzy. Chestnut-sided warbler: pleased, pleased, pleased to meet you. Indigo bunting: fire, fire, where, where, here, here, see it, see it.”

I just don’t get those.

The best way to learn bird sounds is to match the descriptions when you are actively hearing the songs or calls. Knowing that a titmouse says “peter-peter-peter” doesn’t do a whole lot in a vacuum, but matching it to the bird when actually hearing it in the field can drive it home and perhaps allow you to remember it the next time.

What are your thoughts on learning bird songs and calls? What has worked for you and what hasn’t? Let me know at the email address below.

For the Birds: Sometimes patience is needed in the fall for those who feed birds

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Photo by Chris Bosak
A blue jay perches on a log and grabs a peanut in New England, October.

There’s a viburnum bush outside my window at work that is bursting with red berries. I watch it carefully this time of year, as I’ve seen robins, cardinals, hermit thrushes and blue-headed vireos chowing down the berries in previous years.

Also in years past, as winter approaches and a few of the berries remain, I’ve seen white-throated sparrows enjoying the fruits.

This viburnum is just one of many examples of why birds are sometimes scarce at birdfeeders in the fall. One day, titmice, chickadees, nuthatches, cardinals, blue jays and mourning doves are visiting the feeders frequently, and, seemingly, the next day there is very little activity at the feeder.

Just as our gardens flourish and provide a bountiful harvest in late summer and fall, so does the rest of nature in New England. Berries ripen, flowers and grasses go to seed and insects remain numerous. Birds don’t need feeders in the fall as much as they do in other seasons.

Sure, some feeders will remain active, but others will experience a slowing down period. Once nature’s fall bounty is consumed or dies off in the cold, the birds will be back to the feeders. Birds will, however, still get a fair amount of their diet from natural sources, but the feeders provide a welcomed supplement to the fruits, seeds and insects that remain.

Birds that migrate are a mixed blessing for those who feed birds. They provide much-needed excitement in the spring when they return from their wintering grounds. It’s always a thrill when the first rose-breasted grosbeak, Baltimore oriole, gray catbird or ruby-throated hummingbird shows up at a feeder in April or May. But these same migrating birds also contribute to the fall slowdown, as they make their way out of the region once again.

It is fun, however, when a southward migrating bird makes a surprise stop at your feeder. The other day, a yellow-rumped warbler stopped by for a bite at my suet cake cage. I also recently saw a blue-headed vireo in a bush next to my feeding station. It was likely looking for berries, but I don’t think the fruits were quite ready. It’s also nice when kinglets flit among my flower garden looking for coneflower, black-eyed Susan or daisy seeds. Usually, I get ruby-crowned kinglets, but the occasional golden-crowned kinglet will show up as well.

“Where are all my feeder birds?” is a common question this time of year. It is most likely because they are finding food elsewhere. The trick is to be patient and continue to maintain the feeders through this slow period. Keep the feeders filled and clean so they are ready when the birds need them in late fall and winter. Birds will occasionally stop by during the fall to grab a seed or two. If they visit and there’s no food for them, there’s a chance they’ll seek out another feeding station and not return in the winter. That would make for a long winter – not for the birds, but for the person looking for the birds.

Feeding birds in the fall will not prevent them from migrating. Those that need to migrate will migrate; those that don’t won’t.

If you’re experiencing a slow time at your feeders, hang in there. The action will pick up again soon enough.

For the Birds: Long live the butterbutt

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Photo by Chris Bosak
Yellow-rumped (Audubon’s) warbler just south of Grand Teton National Park, fall 2026.

It has one of the better nicknames in the birding world: butterbutt.

It makes perfect sense too because the yellow butt is a key field mark. Of course, it’s the yellow-rumped warbler, one of New England’s most commonly seen warblers. There are fall days when I’ll see dozens of butterbutts and hardly anything else, except for maybe a few palm warblers.

Yellow-rumped warblers can be tricky in the fall, however, as the flocks are a mixed bag of adult males and females and first-year males and females. All four varieties look fairly similar this time of year.

In the spring, we have adult males and adult females coming up from the south, and they look completely different from each other with males sporting an attractive mix of bluish gray, white, black and yellow. In the fall, they are all much duller than they are in the spring.

Their trademark and namesake is the yellow patch on their rump, which is visible at rest and in flight in all seasons. They also have small yellow patches on their sides. The western subspecies also has a yellow throat while the eastern subspecies sports a white throat.

The yellow-rumped warbler is an interesting study in bird names and splits. It used to be considered two separate species: Audubon’s warbler and myrtle warbler, which are now each considered subspecies of the yellow-rumped warbler. That change took place in 1973. There has been talk for years about splitting them again, but that hasn’t happened yet.

To add to the confusion, there are two more forms of the yellow-rumped warbler: black-fronted from Mexico and Goldman’s of Guatemala. I’ve never seen one in person, but from photos, the Goldman’s form looks like a really cool bird that is mostly black with yellow and white markings.

To add even more confusion, the Audubon’s and myrtle subspecies interbreed where their ranges cross somewhere around the Rocky Mountains. It was there where I saw dozens of yellow-rumps during a recent trip to Grand Teton National Park. It being fall, it was difficult to tell males from females and adults from immatures, but they were definitely yellow-rumped warblers. Whether they were the Audubon’s or myrtle subspecies is another question. I believe they were Audubon’s based on the yellow throats.

Who knows when or if the split will take place again. In the last few years, the American Ornithologists’ Union seems to be on a splitting kick. I wrote recently about the splitting of the warbling vireo, house wren and yellow warbler ─ all common New England birds.

In a way, I’d prefer the bird to remain a single species. Yellow-rumped warbler is much more fun to say than Audubon’s warbler or myrtle warbler. Either way, butterbutt remains a fitting nickname, so there’s that.

For the Birds: Big animals highlight trip out west

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Photo by Chris Bosak
Bull moose in Grand Teton National Park, fall 2026.

If the trip took place somewhere in New England, I would get a year’s worth of columns out. But, since the trip took place far from New England, I’ll jam it all into one column.

I took a trip early this fall to Montana, Grand Teton National Park and Yellowstone National Park. The goal was to see and photograph moose, elk, bison, pronghorn and bighorn sheep. I was fairly confident about getting elk, bison and pronghorn. My recent lack of luck finding moose in New England made me uncertain about seeing moose out there. I also thought bighorn sheep may be a stretch.

At the end of the trip, I got better moose photos than I ever thought I would, many solid elk photos, a few bison photos but far less than I had thought, a few pronghorn and no bighorn sheep.

The moose photos, of course, were the most exhilarating. I met a group of professional wildlife photographers, and they allowed me to tag along to their secret moose locations. At one point, we watched a bull moose and two cow moose bedded down for more than two hours. We kept a safe and respectable distance away and did not alter the animals’ behavior.

Prior to meeting the professionals, my photo opportunities had been limited to subjects far away and sharing the space with 100 or more other people who had pulled off to the side of the road to see what people were looking at. It was after the summer season, but the parks were still crowded. The campgrounds were full (I had made reservations ahead of time), and the parking lots for popular hikes were overflowing to the point of people parking on the side of the road for nearly a mile in each direction.

Keeping up with the professional photographers was not easy as we hit the woods well before first light, crossed swift-moving streams, bushwhacked through the brush and tried to find each other by following a GPS pin on our phones. The scout of the group was in the woods at 4:30 a.m. with infrared binoculars. It was worth it though. One morning, we watched three cows, three calves and one bull walking in a field. Bulls are notorious for fighting during the rut (fall breeding season), but we saw two cows with their calves cross paths and square off. The altercation lasted about two seconds and consisted of each cow raising onto their hind legs, kind of like when a horse rears, and moving on their way.

It was great to be among moose again. The New England moose population has taken a serious hit from winter ticks and brainworm and they are becoming more difficult to find. For me anyway, a trip to northern New England in the late 1990s would yield a dozen or more moose sightings. Now, it’s been years since I’ve seen a single moose on my trips up north.

The other wildlife highlights in Grand Teton were a coyote hunting in a field and a grizzly bear mother and cub. The bear sighting was nice, of course, but park rangers kept visitors quite a distance away. There was also a huge crowd of people clamoring for a peek.

Then it was northward into Yellowstone on my way to Mammoth with a quick stop to see Old Faithful do its thing. It was around Old Faithful where I had my only bison sightings. I thought I’d see great herds of bison and eventually get tired of seeing them, but I saw only about five lone bulls in total. I did get one photo of a bison with the hot springs near Old Faithful steaming in the background.

Mammoth Campground, on the other hand, was filled with elk. One bull lorded over his harem, which consisted of 30 or more cows and calves. The cows and calves walked among the campground as if it were the most normal thing in the world. They had no fear of humans and were just part of the landscape. At one point, I sat at the picnic table at my site and six elk walked around me like I wasn’t even there. In the evening, the bull started bugling, and everyone (including me) grabbed their cameras and rushed toward the noise.

I saw several pronghorns along the side of the highways, particularly on the drive from Montana to Idaho. Pronghorns are commonly called pronghorn antelope, but they are not officially antelope and are their own distinct species. They are the fastest land animal in North America, reaching speeds of up to 60 miles per hour. They also look completely different than any other animal in the U.S. and look as if they belong on the African savanna instead.

Oh yeah. There were some birds to be seen as well. Among the notable birds were bald eagles, mountain bluebirds, tons of yellow-rumped warblers, yellow-headed blackbirds, redheads, American coots, horned grebes, sandhill cranes, white pelicans, and magpies–lots and lots of magpies.

I could go on and on, of course, but I like to keep this column focused on New England as much as possible. Feel free to visit my other posts on this site for more photos of the trip.

Comparing antlers from the deer family (with a few horns too)

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Photo by Chris Bosak
Bull moose in Grand Teton National Park, fall 2026.

Here’s a compilation of the deer family (moose, elk, mule deer) photos I got during my recent trip out west (Montana, Grand Teton, Yellowstone). It was late September, so the antlers were fully grown and velvet-free. It’s interesting to see the difference between the species–and antlers are always a source of fascination.

At the end of this post, there are two animals with horns, not antlers. Mammals with horns keep their horns permanently. Mammals with antlers shed them every year (late fall or winter) and regrow them each year.

MOOSE

Photo by Chris Bosak
Bull moose in Grand Teton National Park, fall 2026.
Photo by Chris Bosak
Bull moose in Grand Teton National Park, fall 2026.

ELK

Photo by Chris Bosak
Bull elk in Yellowstone National Park, fall 2026.
Photo by Chris Bosak
Bull elk in Yellowstone National Park, fall 2026.

MULE DEER

Mule deer, Grand Teton National Park, fall 2026.

PRONGHORN (horns, not antlers)

Photo by Chris Bosak
Pronghorn in Idaho, fall 2026.

BISON (horns, not antlers)

Photo by Chris Bosak
Bison in Yellowstone National Park, fall 2026.

A few birds I saw out west

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Photo by Chris Bosak
Great-horned owl in Grand Teton National Park, fall 2026.

I neglected to include the birds I saw during my recent trip out west in my last post. So, here they are. I was focused on the large mammals, so I didn’t get many photos of birds. The magpies were a highlight. They were all over downtown Bozeman, Montana, and very brave around my campground in Yellowstone. Kind of like the crows we have in New England.

Photo by Chris Bosak
Mountain bluebird in Grand Teton National Park, fall 2026.
Photo by Chris Bosak
Magpie in Yellowstone National Park, fall 2026.
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For the Birds: Veery and wood thrush share the title

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Photo by Chris Bosak
A veery stakes out territory in New England, spring 2025.
Photo by Chris Bosak
A wood thrush sings from a branch in New England.

I wrote back in early July that the veery had taken the lead as the Bird of Summer, my very unofficial designation that goes to the bird that I see most frequently, or at least more frequently than usual.

With summer now over, I can officially—or unofficially—name the Bird of Summer. The veery and wood thrush share the distinction. Early in the summer, I saw and heard veeries on every walk. In the middle of summer and into late summer, it was the wood thrush that stood out more. I didn’t always find the often-secretive bird, but I certainly heard the unmistakable flute-like song way more often than I usually do.

It was encouraging to hear the wood thrush so often, as they are one of the many birds that have experienced a sharp population decline in recent decades.

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More wildlife from out west

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Photo by Chris Bosak
Bison in Yellowstone National Park, fall 2026.

Here are a few animals I saw out west that aren’t moose or elk. The U.S. is a beautiful place.

Photo by Chris Bosak
First-year grizzly bear in Grand Teton National Park, fall 2026.
Photo by Chris Bosak
Coyote in Grand Teton National Park, fall 2026.
Photo by Chris Bosak
Pronghorn in Idaho, fall 2026.

More elk photos than you asked for

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Photo by Chris Bosak
Bull elk in Yellowstone National Park, fall 2026.

After three days in Grand Teton, I drove north to Mammoth Campground in Yellowstone. The resident elk herd did not disappoint with the bull bugling and cows and calves making themselves at home among the tents, RVs, picnic tables, and campers. It was definitely worth the trip to Yellowstone.

Photo by Chris Bosak
Bull elk in Yellowstone National Park, fall 2026.
Photo by Chris Bosak
Elk in Yellowstone National Park, fall 2026.
Photo by Chris Bosak
Calf elk nursing in Yellowstone National Park, fall 2026.
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