Juvenile Sharpies on the move

Sharp-Shinned Hawks have been migrating in numbers these past weeks, following their cherished food source: songbirds. This juvenile, like many of its peers, thrives on the unnatural local abundance created by bird feeders, making Sharp-Shinned Hawks quite common in cities, and possibly more numerous overall than they have been historically.

While most are headed South, some Sharpies will remain for the winter. Next spring, there will be less than half the number of Sharpies we are seeing this Fall due to winter and migration mortality. The rest will be eaten by Peregrine Falcons and other larger raptors, or struck but some other hazard along the way that will send them back into the nutrient cycle to be recycled into many other lifeforms.

This other juvenile is developing the rufous adult breast. Also visible are the white specks on the back that are not illustrated in my field guide (!). The presence of these bird-eating hawks is often given away by how scarce songbirds become when they're around. Everything is connected out there, in a subtle balance we can tune into if we quiet our minds and observe.

Pileated Woodpecker with body image issues

Every morning for a few days, this Pileated Woodpecker has been flying through to snack on Blue Elderberry fruit. Acting like a goldfinch, it holds onto the slim branches and pecks at the berries while swinging upside down. Other birds stay clear, although the Sapsuckers seem to be trying to demonstrate the appropriate, time-tried stance and tree choice for a woodpecker, so far in vain. Quirky personalities and variable lifestyles are more prevalent in animals than some humans would guess!

Spirit of the Forest

This 3-year old buck lay peacefully on the bank of Muddy Creek as I crossed the foot-bridge. Clearly aware of me, he chose not to give up his shady spot on this september day of lingering summer heat. It could not be more clear to me that I must walk by a good many animals without noticing them. If the only ones you notice are the ones who flee, you might form the notion that animals always run when a human approaches, and end up not even looking for the ones who stay still all around...

Fern Ridge, post-Spotted Redshank

Fern Ridge is a bit like Mecca. The faithful have to go there once in their lifetime. And so every fall shorebirds and birders both migrate there, each intent on fulfilling the requirements of their respective biological callings; in the case of the former the urge to live and pass on the genetic underpinnings of their species, and in the case of the latter the need to satisfy a fanatical compulsion to chase small balls of feathers for the sake of extending their life list.

When a Spotted Redshank was seen there this summer, the place reportedly took on the feeling of a rock festival. Such an atmosphere might be to the liking of an Alice Cooper fan (the rocker, no relation to the accipiter), but not everyone at Fern Ridge was thrilled: "we were surrounded! You just couldn't enjoy a benthic invertebrate in the quiet and privacy of your favorite mudflat", Greater Yellowlegs told COTW. Sharing this view was Wilson's Phalarope: "being admired by the odd seasoned connoisseur once in a while is one thing I don't object to, but I swear some of these people were in such haste they didn't bother to study their field-guides before coming; one person even tried to throw some bread at me!".

With enthusiastic bipeds lining the shores and practically beating the bush for a glimpse at the second ever record of a Spotted Redshank in Oregon, one American Bittern felt it necessary to have a word with the Redshank about her alarm at being seen by so many people. "I try to hide, and methinks I do a pretty good job of it " (stands erect with beak pointing to the sky and sways with the reeds, practically vanishing before my gaze) "but you can only muster so much invisibility with 5 scopes trained on you; I had to ask them to leave in the hope of keeping the peace around here".

The Alliance of European-American Birds, headed up by Starling and House Sparrow, noted meanwhile that although the sudden interest in a European bird is encouraging, it should not overshadow the difficulty some Euro birds have in reaching the hearts of American birders. "Look at Eurasian Collared-Dove; there's no impromptu rock festival when they show up on the block".



While COTW did not send a reporter on site at the time of the Spotted Redshank phenomenon (too busy learning to distinguish Western and Least Sandpipers!), these interviews were recorded during a later visit on August 25th. Below are some pictures from this excursion.

Greater Yellowlegs

Stilt Sandpiper next to a preening Western Sandpiper

Stilt Sandpiper again, pretty rare!

Juvenile Purple Martins

The elusive Virginia Rail

The common and majestic Great Blue Heron

The Black-and-Yellow Garden Spider (Argiope aurantia)

Complete checklists:
http://ebird.org/ebird/view/checklist?subID=S11445505
http://ebird.org/ebird/view/checklist?subID=S11445525

Flycatcher Beak Count

Flycatchers sometimes get a bad wrap for being troublesome secretive little brown birds with no distinguishing marks. Nothing could be farther from the truth! Yamhill county has 5 species in two very distinctive genera: Empidonax (the little guys) and Contopus (the big guys). Recognizing them should be no trouble to the casual observer with a few characters in mind (their respective dialects are also unmistakable by ear).

So far Hammond's Flycatcher and Olive-Sided Flycatcher have eluded my birding forays and camera lens in Yamhill county, but here's a review of our other Flycatchers.

Pacific-Slope Flycatcher: boasting a prominent white eye-ring and fashionable bi-colored beak, this is the ubiquitous Empidonax flycatcher west of the Rockies. Often heard calling a full hour before sunrise in spring and early summer, they easily get the palm for earliest riser among the songbirds (though Swainson's Thrushes are serious contenders for that distinction).

Willow Flycatcher: less common than the Pacific-Slope and restricted mainly to its namesake shrub, this flycatcher sports a broad, pale bill and a white underside. Generally detected first by its "fitz-bew" call.

Western Wood-Pewee: among the Tyrant Flycatchers, which are larger than the two Empidonax flycatchers above, this flycatcher is very noticeable with a far-carrying call and striking sallies from perches in pursuit of insects (a behavior known as "hawking"). August has been a very busy time for Wood-Pewees, and the little fellas below are the reason why...

Hungry Wood-Pewee babies! They need all the insects they can get before they can migrate to South America for winter.

Long-Standing Bird Resort Still a Hit

Wood Duck babies splashing around with glee, gossiping Killdeer frolicking up and down the busy pathways, Canada Goose parents sunning themselves nonchalantly on the beaches, Cliff Swallows indulging in aerial acrobatics. While this carefree scene might bring to mind the mega migration stop-overs of Baskett-Slough or Fern Ridge,  this is in fact the atmosphere a travelling shorebird can expect to encounter at the Sheridan Sewage Treatment Ponds Resort of Yamhill County.

Western Sandpiper; note the black legs, rufous scapular patch on the wing (though this individual, presumably a youngster, is pretty rufous all over the back and wings), medium-length blunt bill that droops slightly at the end.

A hip hang-out spot for several years, the Sewage Ponds are a haven for the weary migratory bird and a reliable family-friendly joint for all those worn parents with juveniles. If your plumage is faded and frayed after a year of tireless territory defense and reproductive duties, this is an ideal place to rest your wings.

Least Sandpiper; note smaller size and shorter bill than Western, unique greenish-yellow legs, lack of a specific rufous wing-patch. The overall cinnamon-y color on this individual indicates that it is a juvenile, methinks.

Dining on gourmet food in a down-to-earth atmosphere, Least and Western Sandpipers animate the shores with their lively chatter and bursts of energetic flight. South America is still a long way off, and the sewage ponds are the perfect spot to relax along the way.

Semipalmated Plover (with a photobomber Western Sandpiper). Although superficially similar to a Killdeer, it only has one dark ring on the neck rather than two, and is considerably smaller.

The Sheridan Sewage Ponds are also a trendy location for the fashion-conscious. In this discrete, out-of-the-way paradise, local paparazzi have been know to locate bird stars such as Parasitic Jaeger or Red Phalarope.

2 Red-Necked Phalaropes. Phalaropes are intriguing because of their reversed sexual dimorphism and sexual roles: the females are larger and more colorful, and actively compete for males, defend the territory and their mates, and migrate south immediately after egg-laying is over, leaving the males to incubate and rear the young. Phalaropes practice polyandry, the less common conjugal arrangement in the animal world, in which females take multiple males as mates.

This Friday's special guests included 3 Red-Necked Phalaropes in non-breeding plumage, one Semipalmated Plover trying to keep a low profile among the Killdeer, and one Hooded Merganser seen socializing with a gaggle of Cinnamon Teals. We have it on good authority (from our trusty informers CK and PS) that an early Redhead was spotted in the beginning of August, presumably making sure the high standards their species has become accustomed to in previous years are still followed.

Whether your destination is merely southern Oregon or distant Patagonia, whether you molt before or after migration, are an excitable juvie or a seasoned migration veteran, there is a place for you this fall at the Sheridan Sewage Ponds.

Sheridan Sewage Treatment Ponds, Yours to Discover.


Click here for a full checklist of the guests to the Sheridan Sewage Ponds, Yamhill Co., on Aug. 10th.

Watcher in the Woods

Early morning encounter in the Coast Range... This Saw-Whet Owl was actively claiming territory, at first in a fairly casual way, more emphatically after hearing my poor imitation poo-poo-poo-poo call. Holding still on a branch in a thick regrowth of Douglas-Fir, the owl stared at me in disbelief, before flying up into the thicker branches to spend the day away from the Chickadees who were already coming around to inspect this nemesis of theirs.