Crows and Sparrows from NYC to British Columbia

Many of the birds we saw on our trip to British Columbia have counterparts back east, whether the same species or a closely related species.

A male White-throated sparrow surveys the area in Riverside Park, New York.

White-throated sparrow.

 This little fellow was singing up a storm about two weeks ago, fluttering in not-yet leafy bushes and shrubs quite low to the ground. Here he seems to be giving me the old stink-eye from beneath his extraordinary yellow “eyebrows”.

Below is a male golden-crowned sparrow in Garden Bay, British Columbia.

Here he is again in the same location, but on a brighter day. Look how much paler and less gray his throat and breast appear below. The golden-crowned sparrow is found only along the Pacific coast, while the white-throated ranges over much of the continent.

Crows are found all over the continent. Back in March, this group of common crows was delightedly bathing and playing in a large puddle in Riverside Park. (If you place cursor over image below, arrows will appear so you can click through the slide show.) There were five or six crows, but they flew off by ones and twos, eventually leaving just one crow to wallow in the puddle.

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Back in the late 70s, I co-founded a theater in Portland, Oregon called Crows & Roses Theater Project. Portland has long been known as the “City of Roses,” but for us, it was the “City of Crows and Roses.” Turns out crows abound all over the Pacific Northwest, and are extremely successfully at adapting to suburban and urban environments.

For a fascinating discussion of urban crows, inspired and anchored by the author’s observations of crows in her Seattle neighborhood, read Crow Planet by Lyanda Lynn Haupt.

In British Columbia, crows are everywhere.

A crow fans its tail as it looks over the harbor.

Here is a sunlit crow.

Below, a crow perches high on a barren tree.

Or could the bird below possibly be a raven? I heard ravens frequently in the woods, and saw them on several occasions calling and flying. I also heard one making a kind of strange high-pitched constant call as it flew that I had never heard before.

Yet another crow engaged in a turf battle with a gull in the harbor. When it circled up to this tree, its feathers looked quite a bit the worse for wear.

It repeatedly soared down to the rocks at the water’s edge.

But if the gull became aggressive, it took off and lit on the tree.

Then it would fly back down. Must have been some good seafood down there.

A Canada goose also figured in the scenario.

The goose was mostly left to its own devices, ignored by gull and crow, even when it mounted the rocks.

Back in Vancouver, a flock of crows mingled with a mallard and a coot at the water’s edge.

I wondered if any of the crows I saw were Northwestern crows rather than American crows. Northwestern crows, which are found only along the upper Pacific coast, are described as being slightly smaller than the American crow. They specialize in scavenging along shorelines. My guidebook claims they are most easily distinguished by their lower-pitched, hoarser voices. Next time, I’ll listen more closely.

Eagles and Hummingbirds of British Columbia

Bald eagles abounded on our recent trip up the British Columbia coast.

This beautiful bird was sitting on a body of fresh water in an area that looks to me like a beaver dam.

Another closer look.

We saw many eagles on the wing. With a wingspan of nearly seven feet, they are an impressive sight.

And for a size contrast, we also observed several rufous hummingbirds whose wingspan reaches a magnificent 4 1/2 inches.

We saw these tiny, brilliant creatures at a nectar feeder, and darting out over a road to capture insects.  Several times, the hum of those rapidly beating wings alerted me to the bird’s presence before I registered it visually. According to Journey North, hummingbirds beat their wings at a rate of about 75 beats per second.

Here a rufous hummingbird sips nectar from the feeder.

And here’s a lovely view from the vicinity in which we saw the hummingbird zoom back and forth over the road.

Happy May Day

Happy May!

Phil, the white peacock of Saint John the Divine.

People, flowers, wildlife and pets are out in force.

Art meets cherry trees on the grounds of St John’s.

Fine weather to sit with your dogs.

Sitting in the shade with the dogs.

Or your birds.

A bird cage with six parakeets becomes mobile atop a laundry cart.

Here’s a closer look at one of six happy parakeets on their outing to the river.

Oh, what a pretty bird.

Fine weather, too, for human lovebirds.

On the Greenway by the Hudson in Riverside Park.

Or for sitting alone near the forsythia.

On the retaining wall of Riverside Park.

Wherever you go and whomever you’re with, keep an eye out for color.

Tulips in Riverside Park.

And enjoy the flowers before they go.

Magnolia carpet in Riverside Park.

The brief life of flowers, and the word “enjoy,”puts me in mind of William Blake’s poem, Eternity:

He who binds to himself a joy
Does the winged life destroy;
But he who kisses the joy as it flies
Lives in eternity’s sun rise.

Happy May!

Douglas Squirrel in Garden Bay, British Columbia

One of my favorite easily-observed creatures in British Columbia is the Douglas squirrel, sometimes called the chickaree.

Much smaller than New York City’s hefty Eastern gray squirrels, the Douglas is a tree squirrel found from California to the southern British Columbia coast.

Like most squirrels, it uses its front paws quite charmingly to hold nuts and other food. There’s just something about its small size, big eyes, and overall demeanor that give it the look of a storybook character.

Douglas squirrels eat primarily the seeds of the coniferous trees that abound in this area: Douglas firs, of course, but also Sitka spruce and pines. Like the Eastern gray and many other squirrels, they are scatter hoarders, burying seeds or entire pine cones in various spots. But unlike the Eastern gray, Douglas squirrels have no cheek pouches for holding food.

They have high-pitched voices that pierce the forest, and sound remarkably like a bird. On several occasions, I scanned tree limbs, trying to determine what bird was so persistently peeping, only to discover that I was being yelled at by a squirrel.

Below is a fascinating two-minute sound clip from NPR’s “Bird Notes” on the Douglas squirrel. Just click the arrow to play:

The little fellow In these photographs hung out near the pedestrian bridge that connects the harbor to Garden Bay Road. Below you may be able to make out the squirrel perched on the fence rail to the right of the tree.

It was often seen in the company of a golden-crowned sparrow.

The two seemed to be masters of their own bathing and drinking pool.

We humans, however, need more sustenance than pine cones and water, or even wildlife sightings. Tearing myself away from the little animals, I crossed the bridge.

Soon I was happily drinking coffee and eating breakfast at Laverne’s Grill.

Ahhhh. Repletion.

Back outside, bald eagles soared overhead (more on them soon).

And the little squirrel went about its squirrely business.

1 Rm Riv Vu, NYC Wildlife Edition

New York City’s wildlife sometimes hit the real estate jackpot. Yes, while many humans can no longer afford to live in Manhattan, the birds and raccoons are doing just fine. Many even enjoy sunset views like this one over the Hudson River.

Some animals prefer traditional pre-war living environments in which to raise their families.

Others enjoy a more modern situation. Some sparrows prefer the bustle of Mondrian-inspired scaffolding. (Sadly, the birds are not visible in this photo.)

Others find that modern materials can be used to create a cozy, neighborly feel.

And for the lucky elite, luxury urban dwellings abound. The beautifully detailed statues adorning the entry way to the Synod House at St John the Divine provide temporary housing for generations of house sparrows.

Look for the nests.

And for private living with sweeping city views, the red-tailed hawks of St. John’s have it made.

Diving Duck Blues

As I walked along the river, I saw a disheveled, punky little fellow gliding north along the shoreline. A male red-breasted merganser.

He glided, then dove, glided, then dove. Most of the time, I only caught the ripples.

Then I’d have to wait, and scour the area to see where the little fellow would pop up next.

This was a very active bird, who seemed to be enjoying life. I wondered what he was hunting down there. If he caught anything, I didn’t see it. But I did finally catch a few dives.

The dives are extremely fast. One moment the bird is floating along, the next moment it’s gone. I hope these shots convey a sense of the speed and power of the dives.

That “hair” just won’t stay down.

On my way back, about half a mile south, I spotted the female of the pair.

She was serene, gliding along and not diving at all.

The mergansers put me in mind of Diving Duck Blues:

“If the river was whiskey and I was a diving duck,
I’d dive to the bottom, and I’d never come up.”

Maybe that’s what was getting the little merganser so excited.
Listen to Taj Mahal tell you about it:

How To Build an Urban Hawk Nest

As I walked on Morningside Avenue this morning, a red-tailed hawk swooped in and landed high on the back of the Cathedral of St John the Divine. (Its tail is toward the viewer.)

I missed the moments before it landed, but saw that it was carrying something. It appeared to wrestle with its prey, as if attempting to subdue it.

Oh, I see. Its ‘prey’ was a piece of a cardboard box or, perhaps, a paper bag. Nesting material.

Soon the bird flew off, clutching the prize in its beak rather than its talons. (Look at those outstretched legs and talons, and that red tail.)

It landed on its nearby nest, spent a little time tucking the cardboard into place, and then flew off, heading in a northwesterly direction.

From deep inside the nest, unseen from my vantage point far below, a second hawk, probably the female, known as Isolde, now adjusted the cardboard which is easily visible to the left of Saint Andrew’s head.

(Note also the long strands of some kind of string hanging off the right side of the nest. This is new in the past few days, and it worries me, since birds can easily become entangled in string, and suffer injury.)

The cardboard was pulled deeper into the interior until it could no longer be seen.

And all was quiet on the broad shoulders of good Saint Andrew.

Dabblers On the Hudson

Black Duck on the Hudson

A week or so ago, Esau and I walked along the Manhattan shore of the Hudson River between 100th Street and 116th Street. Flotsam and jetsam littered the rocks.

I expect to see a mallard pair or two when I walk by the river. And so I did. The female below nibbled away on the moss that covered the rocks down at the water’s edge.

She’d nibble and nibble, then lift her head to swallow.

The male floated nearby as did a huge plank.

I did not expect to see the gorgeous pair of black ducks that were hanging out not too far away.

I didn’t know what they were until I got home and looked them up. I just knew they were stunning with their subtle plumage and elegant postures.

The male was nibbling on moss.

The female nibbled on herself.

More accurately, she preened and seemed to be dealing with bird lice or another of the many small parasites that beset wild birds. While some bird lice are generalists that can feast on any part of the bird’s body, others species specialize in particular areas of the bird. A bird may be infested with wing lice, head lice, body lice, and so on, not to mention mites and other creatures. Without hands, a nibble with your bill is your best bet for scratching the itch.

I’m starting to feel a little itchy myself.

Whew, finished preening.

And what a beauty.

Next up: Divers on the Hudson looks at a pair of hyper-active, punked-out red-breasted mergansers.

For more on dabbling ducks in New York:
Sex and the City Bird
Fresh Ducklings and Growing Goslings in Morningside Park
NYC Mallards Court on Halloween

Spring Celebration: Urban Birds Makin’ Whoopee

It’s spring, and the air is filled with romance.

In honor of all the exciting animal activity going on in the city, here is a brief Urban Wildlife Valentine from Out Walking the Dog.

Enjoy!

This video was originally posted on Valentine’s Day, 2012.

For more on the love life of urban birds:
Sex and the City Bird
Sex and the Pigeon
The Pigeons Outside my Window

NYC’s Hawk-a-Day Club

Atop the head of Saint Andrew high on the Cathedral of St John the Divine.

I’m a charter member of NYC’s Hawk-a-Day Club. Anyone can join, and the entrance requirements are, well, not too tough. Basically, all you have to do is spend some time outside, preferably in or near a park, and look up. Because these days, the city’s raptors, particularly its burgeoning population of red-tailed hawks, are pretty easy to spot.

Over the course of the past six weeks or so, I’ve regularly – even, yes, daily – seen red-tails…

in Riverside Park.

Red-tail in Riverside Park at dusk.

On the back of the Cathedral of St John the Divine.

Nesting on the shoulders of St Andrew.

In Central Park.

Red-tail (Pale Male?) near Fifth Avenue.

On a high-rise near Morningside Park.

High above the city.

On another high rise on Broadway between 109th and 110th Streets – on the same spot where I recently watched a pair of hawks copulate.

On a tree near the statue of General Franz Sigel at 106th and Riverside.

Hawk above 106th and Riverside.

On a water tower, looking over 110th Street.

Beautiful.

NYC Red-tails: Nesting on St John the Divine

Seen from the front, the Cathedral of Saint John the Divine at 112th Street and Amsterdam Avenue is a lovely, forever unfinished hulk of stone.

A lovely, perpetually unfinished hulk.

But for now I’m more enamored of the Cathedral’s less commonly appreciated back.

St. John the Divine, as seen from Morningside Drive

Because on the shoulders of a long-suffering saint (well, aren’t they all?) high on the back of the Cathedral is one of the most picturesque hawk nests in the city.

Nest resting on the shoulders of a saint.

There a red-tailed hawk often perches atop the saint’s head and gazes east over Morningside Park and Harlem Valley, as it did a week ago when I showed the nest to Kelly Rypkema, biologist and host of Nature in a New York Minute. (Thanks, Kelly, for letting me use your camera that day!)

Red-tailed hawk on saint’s head. (Thanks to Kelly Rypkema for letting me use her camera!)

Esau and I visited the nest again last Thursday as a light March snow fell.

Hawk and saint in the snow.

A pair of hawks has been nesting and raising young here since 2006. Robert of Morningside Hawks gives a fine history of the nest. For two years, the female, known as Isolde, nested with a male known as, you guessed it, Tristan. When Tristan died in 2008, a male called Norman, for (possibly ecclesiastical) reasons beyond my ken, paired with Isolde. According to Morningside Hawk’s history, the pair has successfully fledged a total of nine babies since 2008.

Another view of hawk and saint.

Sadly, Norman is rumored to have died during Hurricane Sandy. But in the past month, I’ve watched two hawks at a time bring twigs to the nest. I never learned to identify Isolde or Norman as individuals, so I can’t tell you which hawks I’m seeing. I assume one is Isolde, and the other a new male. Whoever they are, I’m thrilled that nest-building is going on apace.

In fact, NYC’s upper Manhattan hawks have been incredibly active over the past month. I watched a pair copulate on a building at 109th Street and Broadway, and have been seeing at least one raptor almost every day, whether in Riverside Park, Central Park, or outside my window. Red-tails are by far the most frequently sighted.

Red-tail at 106th and Riverside Drive.

But I’ve been lucky enough to spot my first Merlin zooming north along Riverside Drive, and two peregrine falcons, one a mature male perched on a water tower, the other a juvenile perched on a school.

So look up, New Yorkers.

Raptors are all around us, perched on water towers and tree limbs, soaring overhead and swooping low, mating on high-rises and nesting on bridges. Keep your eyes open, and LOOK UP.

A Riverside red-tail.

Pelicans and Bare Arms, January in Dallas

We’re in the middle of a deep freeze here in the Northeast. Yesterday, Long Island’s Mecox Bay was in the process of icing over.

Ice on the right of the white line, water to the left.

Meanwhile back in my former home of Dallas, Texas,people are hanging out by White Rock Lake in T-shirts and tank tops. I mean, really.

Curious geese at White Rock Lake, Dallas. Photo: Ellen Locy.

My friend Ellen, who sent me these photos from Dallas, reports yesterday was “such a warm day I kept peeling off layers and tying them anywhere I could. Jacket, scarf.”  Here’s Ellen with scarf tied round her head and jacket round her waist.

“Just got a load of myself… [people] must have thought Aunt Jemima had taken up bird watching.”

The warm weather has White Rock’s geese in a flap. Or maybe it’s the pelicans they’re sharing Sunset Bay with.

Goose convention at Sunset Bay, White Rock Lake, Dallas. Photo: Ellen Locy.

Yup, pelicans.

Pelicans in Dallas, Texas. Photo: Ellen Locy.

There’s nothing like sunset at Sunset Bay. Can this really be mid-January? Thanks, Ellen, for warming us up.

Sunset at Sunset Bay, Dallas, Texas. Photo: Ellen Locy.

Now it’s time to bundle up with a faux animal on my head, and walk that dog. Brrr.

Red-tails in Winter

Red-tailed hawks seem to be everywhere I walk these January days.

We tend to think of winter as a quiet, even a quiescent, time for the natural world.

And so it is for many plants and animals. But for others, including NYC’s Red-tailed hawks, mid-winter actually signals the start of breeding season. In the coming weeks, our local hawks will go a-courting. After all, for us to watch eggs hatch in early spring on NYU’s Bobst Library or a Fifth Avenue apartment ledge, the hawks have to lay those eggs a full month earlier, sometimes as early as late February or early March. Before laying eggs, new pairs need time to build a nest, while established pairs must renovate the old nest. And before they start working on the nest, the hawks have to pair up, bond, and mate.

Red-tails mate for life, but even experienced and bonded pairs engage in elaborate courtship behavior each year as they enter the breeding season. Red-tail courtship often involves dazzling paired flights, when the two birds swoop and circle together, and sometimes grasp each other’s talons as they spiral down through the air, separating in time to spread their wings and soar again.

In late winter and, indeed, throughout the breeding season, unpaired hawks, whether juveniles or adults that have lost a mate, will be on the look-out for potential partners.  In NYC over the past few years, several hawks have died from rat poison at various points in the breeding season, and we’ve seen the remarkable swiftness with which a new hawk appears and mating begins again.

So look up as you walk in the city this winter. Scan trees, building ledges, statues, and water towers for unusual lumps and bumps that may turn out, on closer inspection, to be a hawk perching and watching for prey.  And if you are lucky enough to spot two broad-winged birds soaring high in the sky, circling and swooping, spiraling and climbing, they may well be a pair of red-tails declaring their devotion and preparing to mate.

Woodpeckers in New York: Beautiful Redheads

Woodpeckers are such stylish animals.

Red-bellied woodpecker. Photo: Melissa Cooper

And, yes, clearly it was a red cap and nape that I saw on New Year’s Eve Day, not just a red cap. Which means the bird was, without a doubt, a male Red-bellied woodpecker. (In Woodpeckers of Riverside Park Meet Little Red Riding Hood, I made the case for calling it the Little Red Riding Hood Woodpecker.)

How can I be so sure today when I was unsure two days ago? Because I saw the little devil again yesterday morning.  And this time, in case you haven’t noticed, the view was unobstructed and I got photos.

The bird was less active yesterday, remaining on its perch for several minutes, looking around from side to side, and up and down.

The little bird was probably sitting so still and alert due to the unusual amount of hawk activity overhead.  Three Red-tailed hawks were passing overhead, soaring, then swooping low through the trees.  Birds and squirrels tend to go into lock-down when the hawks are flying nearby, trying not to call attention to themselves through movement. Of course, once the hawks perch, they are no longer much of a threat since their hunting technique involves stooping from the air with great force at their prey.  Birds and squirrels can often be quite bold with a perched hawk. I’ve seen squirrels seem to taunt a perched hawk, and the sight of crows or jays mobbing a hawk is fairly common. In rural areas, Red-tailed hawks dine mostly on rodents, but here in the city they are frequently seen eating pigeons and songbirds in addition to rats, squirrels and mice.

  One of the hawks perched for a while in a neighboring Sweetgum tree, looking much like the piles of leaves, known as dreys, that squirrels build as nests.

After a few minutes, the hawk unfolded its great wings, and soared off to the southwest.

The woodpecker then did the same, swooping across the promenade to a higher branch on another tree.

The handsome little bird is a charming addition to the park, easy on the eyes and easy to spot. In winters past, I’ve sometimes seen a sole Red-bellied woodpecker in this area of Riverside Park. Now I wonder if it is the same bird returning year after year. In any event, I hope he sticks around, and continues to evade hawks, cars and other urban hazards.

For more on woodpeckers in Riverside Park:Woodpeckers of Riverside Park Meet Little Red Riding Hood
Who’s Eating What in NYC Parks

And for other New York woodpeckers:
A Visit To Cornell Lab of Ornithology’s Sapsucker Woods: My First Pileated Woodpecker

Avian Red Wake-up

High in the tree branches in Riverside Park, a small, brilliant flash of red startled me. It soon revealed itself to be the head of a black-and-white woodpecker. The little fellow was very active, hopping from one branch to another with great rapidity, ducking behind branches and twigs, making it hard for me to get a good look at its entire form. And, of course, I had left behind both my binoculars and my camera.

Was the beautiful bird a Red-bellied woodpecker?

Red-bellied woodpecker by John James Audubon

(Despite its name, the Red-bellied woodpecker is notably black and white with a red cap and nape.  The name derives from a reddish tinge on the belly that is really only visible when the bird is examined close up.)  I watched until the bird swooped off, scalloping the air, to another tree. But when I got home and opened a bird book, it was the the flash of a red cap that lit the image in my mind. A red cap, not a red cap and nape. So hmmm…

Could it have been a yellow-bellied sapsucker?

Yellow-bellied sapsucker by John James Audubon.

Both birds are seen in NYC parks, although the Yellow-bellied sapsucker is apparently less common.  But something about the coloring, and even the cap, just doesn’t seem quite right when compared with the bird in my mind’s eye. So I believe it was a Red-bellied. Next time I’ll know better how to look at a red-headed woodpecker to note its defining marks.

The unexpected flash of avian red has stayed with me, like a wake-up of some kind. “Sleeper, awake!” the little bird signaled to me.  A good jolt with which to start a new year.

Since I have no photo of my woodpecker, here is a different bit of vibrant wake-up-the-new-year red, photographed by a friend on his morning walk.

Cardinal in NYC, plumped against the cold. Photo: Rob Pavlin

HAPPY NEW YEAR!