home life of some of the birds

As our woods mature -- I am talking about our woodlands on or near Weesuck Creek -- their ecology has changed from an open environment to more of a savannah habitat and, as we move inland away from the water, to an oak-hickory woodland with scattered Pitch Pines. The changes have been marked by an increase in breeding woodland birds, most notably the Great Crested Flycatcher, Baltimore Oriole (also, more sporadically, Orchard Oriole) and Pine Warbler. All these birds were in evidence this morning; the Pine, a handsome singing male, was making his first noted appearance of the season. Was he here before and, as an early nester, just keeping quiet? Or did he just arrive from somewhere to try his luck here? I should add that Pine Warblers have been regular spring visitors in recent years, well seen and heard. I also suspect that they nested in the years before we lost many of our Pitch Pines to Sandy; hard to be sure, as these birds tend to hang out high and are hard to see in the canopy. But the fact that so many pines were killed -- mostly exposed trees facing the water -- did not seem to bother this bird who was just as happy poking around in the still emerging oak tassels. Breeding may be another story. 

At any rate, I have a definite piece of evidence for another woodland bird: a pair of adult White-breasted Nuthatches feeding two fledglings at mid-level in the oak-hickory woods. The fledglings appear to be only a few days out of the nest and almost certainly were born right here. I have been aware of the omnipresence of these nuthatches this spring but they winter here and my first thought was that these were late hangers-on or even migrants from somewhere else. This is certainly early for these birds to have flying young but, as a wintering bird that chooses to hang out (they are, in fact not that uncommon in our upland woods at all seasons), they are in a good position to get an early start. This is, as far as I know, the first definite breeding record for the place and these are the first young birds of any species that I have seen.

Meanwhile, out of the woods and down at the marsh, I witnessed a very different event in the home life of another species: two male Common Yellowthoats engaged in a non-stop chase around the upper part of the marsh. I suspect that the local territory holder was being challenged by an intruder, possibly the second singer that I have noticed on the pond side of the property or perhaps even a third and recently arrived bird (the Yellowthroats arrive from their winter quarters only in mid-May). As far as I could tell, the intruder would sit on a low-lying open branch and begin to sing his classic 'witchity-witchity-witch'. This infuriated the other bird who then came diving in and chased him off his perch with, I am sure, nothing but the most malicious intent. The new bird had all he could do lead the chase, staying  only a feet in front as the two whirled around the block. Occasionally, the enraged chaser actually came after me as if I were the cause of all the trouble but he soon realized his mistake as the respite allowed his true mortal  enemy to land and fire off a few more songs before being chased yet once again. Occasionally one or the other bird would emit a sinister rattle, obviously some kind of unfamiliar alarm or warning call. All the time, there were chips coming from the underbrush which was the giveaway that there was a female involved as well. I never did see her (I saw a female yesterday or the day before) but I'm sure that her presence added to the ferocity and intensity of the chase.

Curiously enough, a loudly singing Yellow Warbler provided a continuous background to this avian drama. Yellows are here every spring with their distinctive song but I have yet to find evidence of breeding.    

This not-so-merry chase was well in progress as I came up the path at the edge of the marsh -- I could see the whirligig from quite a distance away -- and when I reached the area, I hung out for at least twenty minutes, curious to see what the outcome would be. Finally. as the chase continued with no sign of let-up, I reluctantly abandoned the field.

Eric Salzman