As I reached the upper end of the marsh trail and was turning into the woods this morning, I heard some soft, rather melodious whistles of unknown origin. Even more curiously, they seemed to come first from one place, then another and then still another. After turning around twice trying to pinpoint where the sounds were coming from, I decided to follow the loudest of the whistles as it seemed to move up the trail in front of me. Suddenly, an unseen bird exploded from my feet with a whirring of wings. Wild Turkey? American Woodcock? In a moment, I had the answer. Running on the trail ahead of me and coming out of the brush on either side were a dozen half-grown N. Bobwhite. I could follow them for a short distance until they turned off the trail and headed into heavy cover, whistling all the way. The exploding bird was mamma trying to draw my attention away from her still grounded brood. The young birds' whistles are either a method of keeping in touch (i.e. keeping the flock or covey together) or else a signal to mamma where her babies are hiding.
This is not the end of the story. As I was writing this on the porch, what was presumably the same covey came right out into the open by the porch windows. Let's hope that the neighborhood cats are not on the prowl!
The tide was low this morning and the heron count included the season's first Yellow-crowned Night-Heron plus the more familiar Great Blue and Green Herons plus Snowy Egret -- at one point all four in the same glass. Plus Spotted Sandpiper.
Eric Salzman
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