Outdoors
The BDN outdoors section brings readers into the woods, waters and wild places of Maine. It features stories on hunting, fishing, wildlife, conservation and recreation, told by people who live these experiences. This section emphasizes hands-on knowledge, field reports, issues, trends and the traditions that define life outside in Maine. Read more Outdoors stories here.
It’s been an interesting migration season. Some birds arrived on time. Some didn’t. Then it got crazy.
Penobscot Valley Audubon has enjoyed good weather for its neighborhood bird walks this month. The walks take place on early May mornings, and each one tends to occur in the same location on approximately the same day each year. I’ve led several this month.
Most participants on these walks enjoy the birds they see. I notice the birds I don’t see.
The same species tend to be in the same places at the same time of year. So when a bird is late, I notice.
Food availability is the chief reason birds migrate. Maine hosts an abundance of insects in May, as you may have noticed, and the days are longer. Daylight length remains constant at the equator. At this time of year, there’s more daylight to feed hungry chicks in Maine than there is in Ecuador.
Birds are anxious to reach their nesting destinations as quickly as possible so they can claim the best territory and woo a mate. Choosing a departure date from the tropics is simple. One day, when the weather is favorable, off they go. If all goes well, they’ll arrive in Maine around the same date every year unless they get delayed.
Many species winter in the tropics. Some follow a land route through Mexico. The rest fly nonstop across the Gulf of Mexico. Heaven forbid they run into unexpected storms over water.
Some of our spring birds winter in the southern states, never leaving the country. They don’t face the uncertainty of crossing the Gulf, and they usually show up right on time. Most did this year. In fact, I think the ruby-throated hummingbirds were a tad early.
For other species, significant delays affected their migration and our May walks. Great-crested flycatchers were missing from their favorite places on some of the early-season walks. Alder flycatchers were delayed even longer. Eastern warbling vireos showed up a couple days late. Red-eyed vireos arrived later than that.
Then the dam broke.
The weather pattern holding these species somewhere in the midcontinent shifted. Southerly winds and unseasonably warm temperatures washed over Maine, bringing the delayed migrants with them.
You could hear the difference from my porch as things got crazy. Red-eyed vireos took their rightful places in the oaks on the third Saturday of May. Great-crested flycatchers arrived the same day. Yellow and chestnut-sided warblers swarmed the yard on Monday. Both are still singing like crazy.
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On Tuesday, rose-breasted grosbeaks and scarlet tanagers joined the chorus, also singing like crazy.
Tuesday was also the day a small flock of Tennessee warblers dropped into the neighborhood. They will nest in northern Maine and across Canada, not in my yard. For two days, their singing was nearly constant beyond my driveway as they waited for the next batch of good weather to continue north.
Wednesday, eastern wood-pewees arrived, two days too late to be counted on my Monday bird walk. They are often the last flycatchers to arrive, but this was late even for them.
As if things couldn’t get any stranger, I heard a black-billed cuckoo calling from my front yard while I was writing the previous sentence. When I stepped outside a moment later, I realized there were three cuckoos in the tree.
Black-billed cuckoos are not rare, but they are secretive. I encounter them only a few times each year. They seem to favor habitat around wetlands, and I’m never surprised to hear one while paddling local streams. I sometimes hear one hanging around near my driveway each spring, but it usually disappears quickly.
Three in the yard? That’s just nuts.
Neotropical migrants arrive in spring and leave in autumn. That sounds simple. It’s anything but. There’s drama in the treetops for those who notice.
Speaking of drama, once upon a time I could watch activity at my bird feeder to track arrival dates for some species. Unfortunately, bears are now the first to arrive, so the feeders come indoors in April. That doesn’t stop the bears from checking the yard to test my diligence, however.
I don’t know whether it was a lingering odor from my grill or the aroma from my compost bin that attracted her family, but it was a little unnerving to see a mama bear standing on my porch peeking into the kitchen window.
I told her to leave, and she did.
