birds in the wind

Windy morning with strong gusts coming from the south/southeast pushing up high tide onto the marsh and adjacent upland edges. I got wet trying to circumnavigate the marsh -- the water on the path was deeper than the sides of my boots -- with few birds to show for it (some Royal Terns coming up the creek). A red, red sunrise appeared just below the cloud cover which shortly blotted out the sun for the rest of the day. Wind, wind, wind -- strong enough to keep the smaller birds down.

The bigger birds like this weather. A windy day at this time of year should be good for raptors and, sure enough, a Merlin appeared and began to chase everything in sight (yes, the Merlin is a bird-eating falcon). This meant Blue Jays and American Crows; nothing else was in sight. I could image a Merlin taking out a Blue Jay (they are close in size) but, even if it caught a Crow, what would it do with prey almost twice its size?

The chase went on for some time right over my head. I didn't see the Merlin catch anything but it was a pleasure to watch this aerial projectile whiz through the ether, dive bomb a tree full of corvids, bank away at the last minute, chase a crow or two almost hitting one on the back and then disappear into the trees only to come whizzing out in the open again and then again in circles, loops and dives that were truly impressive. Hunting or just showing off? A great aerial show to watch!

About the only birds still singing are wrens. Carolina Wrens indulge in some amazing song competitions at this time of year and they show off a wider song repertory than their unusual rythmic call. But the Carolinas weren't the only singing wrens. A Winter Wren was somewhat improbably tootling away in a small patch of shrubs near the corner where the woods and marsh join up. While the Carolina and House Wren have fairly well defined and stereotypical styles of singing, the Winter Wren sings a long, continuous sequence of roulades and trills. Doubly amazing to hear it in October coming from a hidden bird in a tiny patch of low shrubs in the middle of what was almost a windstorm. The wren kept working its way around the patch -- presumably to stay hidden -- while singing all the while and thus giving itself away. I finally did catch a glimpse just to reassure myself that it was indeed a Winter Wren. How odd to hear this bird in the fall after its arrival from its breeding grounds.

Eric Salzman