Swan Creek

There were no less than four noisy Osprey on the creek this morning and Mute Swans all over the place.

The Osprey seemed to consist of two pairs and in both cases one of them had a fish and was yelling to call attention to prowess. I'm not sure that either of the Osprey on the Pine Neck nest were involved; if not, that would make six Weesuck Creek Osprey in all. Perhaps this morning's performers are young (i.e. yearling) birds in a courtship phase; the routine with the fish certainly seems to suggest as much (and it's quite late for them to try and start a family). If finny prey are plentiful, I suspect that the older birds might not be too territorial.

The swan situation is more surprising. Adult Mute Swans are reputed to be both aggressive and highly territorial and a single pair has long held onto Weesuck Creek and fought off all potential competitors. Yet this morning, to the accompaniment of much chasing accompanied by noisy flapping (not vocal; the sounds are made by the giant wings hitting the water while the bird is low in flight). There were no less than three birds in the bay right at the mouth of the creek at least two of which seemed to be trying to get a foothold inside the creek. Arrayed against them were two more birds -- seemingly a male and a female -- defending the wide, middle part of the creek where most of the action was taking place. Further up,  there was a single bird in view patrolling the narrower neck of the creek opposite the boatyard; this bird was in full defensive Lohengrin swan mode with wings akimbo, neck curved. This is the famous threat posture of the male and suggests that this fellow was guarding the upper part of the creek (or the side creek known as Little Weesuck) where the female may be sitting on eggs.

The male is, by the way known as the cob, and, like any good street performer, his display is called busking. Busking doesn't seem as though it has to be directed at anyone in particular but can apparently be used to delineate territory and warn off potential intruders. When the cob is ruffled he goes into busking mode and may float around in that position indefinitely. If an actual threatening intruder comes along, he takes right off, heading towards him (I presume it's usually a 'him') with neck outstreched low, flying low just above the water so that his wings slap the surface loudly and rhythmically. "Watch out, here I come!" Since the wings as well as the powerful beak are strong weapons and since he is the fierce local title-holder, the new bird usually vacates the premises almost immediately. The chase ends back out in the open water of the bay and the resident male returns to the creek where his mate has been watching events with close interest. The truce lasts until one of the invaders gets up the courage to try again -- with seemingly identical results.

The Swans may not have young (yet) but our Carolina Wrens are actively feeding fledglings and there is a Mallard duck with eight small ducklings hanging around the pond. The resident Willets stay mostly on the Pine Neck shore of the creek but Green Herons have been active in the marsh on our side and there are a few Least Sandpipers about as well. Further back, on the wooded edge of the marsh, there is an American Goldfinch singing a long lonely goldfinch song as if he is the winner and sole survivor of the goldfinch choral competition held the other day.

Eric Salzman