Hairy Woodpeckers and a guidedog

A noisy non-stop series of calls at the Maple Swamp Pond this morning proved to be coming from a woodpecker hole high on a dead stump a short distance from the water. Its source was shortly revealed when a large black-and-white woodpecker with a reddish crown stuck his head out the hole. It was a juvenile Hairy Woodpecker only days away from fledging. The adults eventually turned up with food and, although I could not see more than one youngster pushing his way out of the nest, there may have been others back in the nest hole. Apparently, these birds are well enough protected from predators by the security of the nest hole and also by their strong beaks, that they can afford to call attention to themselves in this way (something smaller and weaker birds would not dare try). The third week in May seems early but, as they are probably year-round residents and have nested in the area before, they are obviously able to get off to an early start.

There were a few warblers in the forest including singing Canada, Parula, Blackpoll, Pine, Black-throated Green and Black-throated Blue. If you add the breeding birds -- Blue-winged Warbler, Ovenbird, Black-and-white Warbler, Common Yellowthroat and Yellow Warbler (all of these except the Black-throat Blue were on the property as well), you get a total of 11 warblers. Wilson's and Blackburnian were -- by song -- probably also present. Red-eyed Vireo, Eastern Wood-pewee, Great Crested Flycatcher, Eastern Kingbird and Scarlet Tanager were in full throttle. No glimpse or peep from a thrush. This is really worrisome as both Wood Thrush, Veery and (occasionally) Hermit Thrush should be active.

A local dog -- he had a collar so he wasn't a stray -- accompanied me the whole way round. He obviously knew the territory and even tried to lead the way down various side paths and deer trails which he thought might be of interest (and, in some cases, they were). He went splashing in all the puddles and kettlehole ponds and constantly ran ahead, circling back every once in a while to see if 'ol slowpoke was still stumbling along. On several occasions, he went ahead on the wrong path and when he came back, I was gone -- turned down another trail.  But he was always able to track me and catch up, probably by using his nose. Only near the end of the trail did he depart, without so much as a goodby, presumably to find his way back home. 

Eric Salzman