This is a particularly amusing week in the bird world.
From the middle of May to the end of June, birds are focused on mating, nesting and feeding. Then the nestlings fledge, right about now, and all heck breaks loose.
Maybe you’ve noticed. Baby robins are chasing their parents everywhere. Look for their ragged color and spotted breasts.
Gray catbirds had a great nesting season. Catbirds nest low in bushes, often in residential areas. They are shy when nesting. The parents would like to remain shy this time of year, but the kids won’t let them. Young catbirds are chasing their parents everywhere, and noisily.
Ovenbirds, a type of warbler, are off the nest, though males are still singing. Ovenbirds are forest ground-foragers, and they need sufficient territory to feed their young. While their brood is still in the nest, males will challenge intruders solo.
Once the young fledge, both parents raise the alarm whenever other ovenbirds or people encroach. Last week, I was scolded trailside by single ovenbirds. This week, they’re coming at me in pairs.
European starlings raise big broods. Their young are the same size and shape as their parents, but their coloration is much grayer. They’re swarming through yards in big groups now, in plumage that often confuses casual birdwatchers.
It’s been two weeks since the baby white-breasted nuthatches in my backyard fledged and began pestering their parents. The parents are getting tired of being chased and nagged for food. Very tired.
So are the downy woodpeckers.
The pine warblers are showing little sympathy for their exhausted neighbors. Pine warblers sing a lot. They will raise two broods per season, if the weather cooperates. In late June, there was a brief period when I noticed the singing had stopped, but the chatter of parents talking to kids picked up. It was subtle, but there. Then the chattering stopped and the singing resumed.
Second brood?
Mourning doves also raise multiple broods annually, each preceded by courtship. I’m not seeing any courtship at the moment.
Chickadees make me chuckle-dee. Both of Maine’s species — black-capped and boreal chickadees — go silent in June while nesting. As soon as the chicks fledge, they make up for lost time. Parents noisily tend their youngsters, and warn the entire forest of anything they think is dangerous, apparently including me.
Red-eyed vireos are Maine’s champion singers. They sing more than any other bird, and continue all summer. They also make a ZHREEEE call note that can mean a variety of things, but usually signals trouble.
In spring, and through nesting season, the vireos don’t offer many ZHREEEs. But the moment their young leave the nest and become more vulnerable, the number of ZHREEE calls increases exponentially.
Vireos despise blue jays, considering them to be nest robbers. If I hear a long, tireless series of ZHREEEs, I know there are blue jays sneaking into my yard. The vireos warn me.
In the bird world, there’s a sharp transition between spring and summer, between baby-making and child-rearing. It’s hard to see, but easy to hear. Often, it’s what you don’t hear that matters, like when the chickadees go silent or a warbler stops singing.
Roughly two dozen warbler species nest in Maine. Each has its own timetable for when it sings and when it doesn’t.
The northern waterthrush sings incessantly in spring, but when it stops, it’s done for the season. I haven’t heard a black-and-white warbler in weeks. But I’m still hearing black-throated green and black-throated blue warblers.
Birds react differently to threats, depending on where they are in the breeding cycle. Prior to nesting, they will challenge potential rivals, but pay little attention to other territorial intruders.
Once eggs are in the nest, birds often become quite shy, preferring to draw as little attention as possible. But once chicks leave the nest, the young are both visible and vulnerable to predators. Parents panic at the slightest sign of danger.
“Pishing” is a noise that people can make to imitate the warning calls of chickadees and titmice. In early summer, songbirds sometimes ignore my pishing sounds. Just one week later, they may charge right in to see what the pishing threat is all about.
How they react is often a clue to where they are in the breeding cycle.
How did I miss this drama for so many years? It took a long time for me to tune in to these treetop shenanigans. Birds have been telling me their secrets for decades, yet somehow I wasn’t paying attention.
I am now.
