Visions of warblers, tanagers, orioles and grosbeaks may dance in the heads of birdwatchers in May, but the woods and fields are filled with a myriad of other types of birds as well.
While birds such as vireos and flycatchers continue to fascinate (and confuse) me, it has been thrushes that have captured a large portion of my attention so far this spring.
Wood thrushes in particular have been plentiful and conspicuous on my walks. By conspicuous, I mean I hear their flute-like songs several times as I wander through the woods. They can be amazingly difficult to find even as the song makes it seem like the bird is right in front of you. My actual find rate on wood thrushes is embarrassingly low — about on par with my batting average from my high school baseball days.
When I do find the bird, I can’t help but stand there and marvel at it. How can that awesomely musical song come from a relatively nondescript bird about seven inches long? Lang Elliot, who is well-known for his bird recordings, wrote: “The song of the wood thrush is undeniably one of the most beautiful of all forest melodies.”
Photo by Chris Bosak – A brown thrasher perches in New England, April 2024.
The Merlin app really came through this time.
I have written about the smartphone application that identifies birds by their songs and calls a few times before. I always stress, and I’m sure the app creators would agree, to confirm identifications by sight if you can find the bird.
The other day I was walking at a park, and the app showed that a brown thrasher was singing nearby. The app included a red dot by the species name, signifying that it is a rare bird to be seen where I was walking.
My immediate reaction, as a skeptic, was to not believe the app and assume it was a mockingbird instead. I have seen mockingbirds where I was walking several times. Brown thrashers are mimics like mockingbirds, so the misidentification would be understandable.
Photo by Chris Bosak
A chestnut-sided warbler sings from a lower perch in Ridgefield, Conn., during the spring of 2017.
I saw a yellow-rumped warbler, a few pine warblers and several palm warblers on my last bird walk. That can only mean one thing: time for my annual spring warbler column.
The aforementioned warblers are the earliest to arrive in New England in the spring. The rest will follow shortly.
But first, what is a warbler? A warbler is a small Neotropical songbird. Many are colorful but not all of them. Yellow is a common color among warblers, but white, black, orange, brown and tan are also found frequently on warblers. While some spend their winters in the southern part of the U.S., most migrate farther to Central or South America, or the islands south of the U.S. A few stragglers may be spotted in New England during the winter, but it’s not common.
Warblers breed throughout the U.S., mostly in the northern states and into Canada. By late September and into October, warblers do their southward migration. In April and May, they pass through the area again — this time in their fresh spring plumage.
Many warblers will remain in New England to raise families, and others will head farther north. Yellow warblers and common yellowthroats, for me anyway, are the species most commonly seen during the summer raising their families. I’ve also found the breeding spots of American redstart, ovenbird, pine warbler and a few other species.
The weather icons on my iPhone showed rain starting at 8 a.m. I figured that would give me about an hour of dry weather to look for some early spring migrating birds.
No such luck. The rain started even before sunrise so my hour of dry weather wasn’t going to happen. Instead of rolling over and going back to sleep (a very tempting option) or mindlessly scrolling through social media, I decided to head out into the rain anyway. OK, I did take a few minutes to do Wordle quickly before heading out.
The walk started in a light rain, and a lot of birds were out singing. Immediately, I heard robins, cardinals, blue jays, song sparrows and a field sparrow in the distance. Field sparrows have a very distinctive song that sounds like a ping-pong ball bouncing on a table with the time between bounces getting progressively shorter, just like a real ball would do.
As soon as I committed to a trail leading me farther into the woods, the rain picked up. It never turned into a downpour, but it was a good, steady rain. Thankfully, the temperature was a very manageable 55 degrees, so I just got wet instead of wet and cold. I like birdwatching in all types of weather, but a cold rain is probably the worst. Heavy wind is not much fun either, but I would take it over a cold rain.
Photo by Chris Bosak
A winter wren sings from a perch in New England, March 2024.
The average person most likely would not understand my excitement. Anyone who has more than a casual appreciation of nature, including everyone who is reading this I’m sure, will get where I’m coming from.
From an outsider’s perspective, a winter wren is not much to get excited about. It’s a small brown bird – even smaller and more nondescript than a sparrow. Big deal.
Photo by Chris Bosak
An eastern bluebird perches on a branch in New England, Jan. 2022.
Beautiful sights in nature can be long-lasting or fleeting. Sometimes a split second is all it takes to leave an impression.
A beautiful view from a mountaintop is always there. You could hike to the top of Mount Monadnock or Mount Washington and enjoy the panoramic splendor today, tomorrow or next month. The view will always be there. Sure, it will change with the seasons and weather, but the mountain isn’t going anywhere. You could plan months or even years ahead and count on seeing the beautiful view.
An awe-inspiring sunrise or sunset is more fleeting. First of all, there is no guarantee a gorgeous sunrise or sunset will happen at all. But when you do happen to catch one, the view lasts for 20 or 30 minutes. You could grab a seat and watch the show until it is either dark or light, depending on whether it’s a sunrise or sunset.
With birdwatching, most memorable sights are fleeting, and unless you are visiting a zoo or nature center, there are no guarantees. There are some almost certainties, such as a hawk watch location in the fall or a bald eagle watching spot in the winter, but those sightings are mostly fleeting. During a hawk watch, the bird is spotted as it approaches, observed as it flies overhead and then disappears into the distant sky. Eagle watches can offer a longer view as the large birds rest in trees near the water, but they can take off at any time.
Photo by Chris Bosak
An American crow in Danbury, CT, winter 2019.
Crows are exceedingly smart, timberdoodles are back and cardinals just may be nesting already. Those are some of the interesting email topics I have received recently.
Don from Laconia wrote to say he has observed some interesting behavior from crows that hang around his yard. When the crows find a piece of food that is too big or hard, they carry the food to a nearby puddle and dip the food into the water to soften it and make it more manageable.
It has long been known that crows and other corvids, such as ravens and blue jays, have a high degree of intelligence. There is a video on YouTube with close to 10 million views that shows an experiment with a crow figuring out how to access food from tubes using water displacement. The pieces of food are floating on water in a tube just out of reach of the crow’s beak. In a series of tests, the crow has to figure out how to raise the level of water enough to reach the food. The crow eventually aces all of the tests and gets to the food each time.
There is a little pond I drive past on my way to work. By little pond, I mean tiny. Maybe the size of a basketball court. It’s probably man-made and it’s fenced off because it is on the property of a condominium complex.
It is pretty much right along the road, however, so I get a good look at it when I drive by. Usually, there is nothing of note in terms of birds or other wildlife. Every once in a while, a few Canada geese or mallards can be seen swimming along the surface. One day, I saw both Canada geese and mallards. I know, not very exciting.
But the other day I did see something on that tiny pond that made me look a little longer as I drove past. It was a pair of wood ducks effortlessly gliding along the mirror-like surface. The pair swam side-by-side with the male in front of the female – at least from my point of view. During my drive-by, the ducks were near the right edge and swimming toward the middle of the pond. It was like looking at a painting.
Photo by Chris Bosak — Tufted titmouse in New England, January 2024.
The tufted titmouse is one of the most reliable birds to find in New England, regardless of season. The slowest of bird walks are often graced by a tufted titmouse or two.
Even if the bird is not seen, it can usually be heard. Titmice have a big voice that belies their small stature. They are not as surprisingly boisterous as Carolina wrens, but gram-per-gram, titmice are still one of the most vociferous birds.
The bird’s common “peter peter peter” song is one of the first bird songs I learned as a beginning birder way back when. I heard the loud, clear whistles and refused to continue my walk until I found the source. The bird sang over and over as I scanned the area until, finally, I found the titmouse in a nearby tall evergreen. I remember being surprised at how dainty the bird appeared compared to the bravado of the song.
Cardinals also have songs with loud, clear whistles and the titmouse’s song is reminiscent of those. The cardinal’s songs, however, are more melodic and complicated than the simple “peter peter peter” of the titmouse. There are also variations in the titmouse’s song as it can be different in tone or number of syllables.
But that is hardly the only sound a titmouse makes. I have been stumped several times hearing a bird in the woods only to eventually find it was a titmouse. One of their calls sounds a lot like a chickadee and often causes confusion. It’s best to try to spot the bird to ensure which one is calling. To add to the confusion, titmice and chickadees are often found in the same area.
Titmice also have an extremely wide variety of harsh scolding calls, some of which are common and familiar and some that sound completely unfamiliar as they are not heard as often.
Which brings me to the next question about the titmouse. If there is more than one titmouse, are you looking at titmice or titmouses? The short answer is both are acceptable, but titmice is by far the more common usage, even if may not be technically correct. The titmouse (bird) and mouse (rodent) are obviously not related – in taxonomy or etymology — so why is it titmice? I guess it just sounds better and that’s what people have always called it. I’m sure there’s a better explanation, but I don’t know the true history of it.
Every birding organization and every well-known bird author I checked use titmice as the plural, and that includes the Cornell Lab of Ornithology, which I use as my go-to source for birding information. Even the dictionaries I checked use titmice. In fact, you’d be hard-pressed to find a source that uses titmouses. Some language purists may bristle at the term titmice, but it’s here to stay.
Regardless of how you choose to pluralize the word, the titmouse is a New England favorite that entertains us at our feeders and in the woods. Hardly a day goes by, regardless of the time of year, when I don’t see a titmouse, whether I’m actively looking for birds or not. That wasn’t always the case in New England as they were once regarded as a southern bird, but they have slowly and steadily expanded their range throughout New England and into Canada.
It is an energetic bird with a big personality and even bigger voice. Titmice, or titmouses if you prefer, are a welcome addition to the New England biosphere.
Photo by Chris Bosak
Scaup may be seen in huge numbers on large bodies of water in New England in the winter.
Late February and early March is somewhat of a transition period for birdwatching in New England.
The highly anticipated spring migration, which won’t hit its peak until late April and early May, starts with a trickle around mid-March, most notably with American woodcocks and eastern phoebes. Some consider the early male red-winged blackbirds the start of spring migration, but many of these blackbirds overwinter in New England so it’s tough to say if they are arriving in February or have been here all along.
On the other hand, a lot of the winter birds we have enjoyed seeing over the last few months have either gone further south, returned north, or, unfortunately for some, perished in the cold New England winter. Many birds that try to stick out a New England winter, either due to getting lost on their migration route or opting to forego migration altogether, underestimate the power and longevity of our winters and don’t make it to spring.
Birds of New England.com 