 No Birds? No Kidding! In a morning world made mostly of mist, beneath a sky straight from artist Lucius O’Brien’s ‘Sunrise on the Saguenay’, I sat and pondered a question which unfolded over the first three days of my most recent house-sit. Where are the birds? But the answer to my question was not yet forthcoming, so I gazed into the mist and thought of the gauzy pasture. When Doug and Karen left on their trip they mentioned that bird numbers at their feeder had fallen sharply. I let the comment slide, thinking they were talking about the absence of Evening Grosbeaks or some other members of the seed-eating crowd. The last few years have seen a steady decline, and in some cases total absence of particular birds; little did I realize that absolutely no birds were going to the feeder. This sank in only a few hours after I arrived at the house. Doug and Karen’s feeder is almost legendary. Over a dozen years ago when I first occasioned to visit this house, I was in awe of the window sill spectacle. I had never seen so many birds up close and personal. In those days Evening Grosbeaks were plentiful. Siskins were common as dirt and could form a plentiful mob just by themselves. Here also were Red-winged Blackbirds, the occasional Yellow-headed Blackbird, and Purple Finches. Countless Black-capped and Mountain Chickadees cavorted in company with their cohorts the Red-breasted Nuthatches. Into this mix were tossed more seed eaters such as Red Crossbills, Redpolls, and in season Cowbirds. All the black and white Woodpeckers dropped by daily, including the great Pileated. Bird numbers and bird variety were incredible. At that time my own feeder, recently installed about a dozen miles east, in an area that had never seen a man-made bird eatery, was wan by comparison. But still I had a number of Chickadees of both kinds, an incredible number of Downy Woodpeckers, and a flock of Red-winged Blackbirds. In assessing the popularity of the house-sit feeder versus my feeder, I concluded that the house-sit feeder had been established for many years and was known to generations of a variety of bird species. Non-migrating local birds, I figured, found the food supply a source of security. They would also enjoy the surrounding habitat of open pastures bounded by semi-open woods with deciduous and evergreen trees. Such a well-maintained and long established feeder, I contend, could induce birds to change their normal patterns of migration and secure the birds survival in times of the year when they would otherwise perish. Birds that count on an artificial food supply will come to an area before natural food supplies allow, and local birds will be in better condition for having the option to use the food supply. But this is 2007 and those days of teeming birds seemed long ago as I stared at the feeders, well-stocked, but empty of birds. At first I was in denial. The day I arrived at the house, a single Junco stopped on the feeder briefly but then was gone. No other birds drew near. I told myself that the next morning would be different. And as I made coffee the next morning I expected the usual flurry of chickadees dashing between the feeder and the nearby ornamental trees, but it too was absolutely quiet. I became curious. Were there no birds about, or were there ample birds which were just not coming to the feeder? I went into stealth mode. >From dawn till dusk I listened, counted, and assessed the sound and movement of every feeder-using bird I heard on the property. I watched bands of Chickadees flitting about behind the Cock-a-doodle Inn (a building attached to the woodshed in the yard and only 80 feet from the feeder.) I stared at cute, puffed up Mountain Chickadees in healthy numbers down along the creek, and I stood in amazement as a flock of seven Red-breasted Nuthatches streamed past me not 100 feet west of the house. I listened as a noisy flock of Siskins, possibly a hundred, chattered away up on the fir-clad slopes in sight of the house. My conclusion – there were many Chickadees, Nuthatches and even Siskins in the forested areas on all sides of the house. Woodpeckers, other than the Pileated, were virtually absent but they didn’t concern me as much as the first three species. It was obvious that they were avoiding the feeder, but why? The notion of a lack of birds as the cause of the bird absence out of the way, I thought of the possibility that a predator had alarmed them to such an extent that they felt it unsafe to fly from the cover of the ornamental shrubs to the feeder. Either that or a predator had taken refuge in these same trees and the small birds wouldn’t even venture into that part of the yard. The trouble with this theory was that most small birds get over predator attacks in the blink of an eye. Often within minutes of one of their flock mates being taken by a hawk, the rest of the flock quickly gets back to normal routines. In fact it seems that if the predator is successful, the flock returns to normal routines even faster, seeming to sense that a satisfied predator is less of a threat. Their need to keep their energy levels up doesn’t allow them much time to over-think issues. But just to be sure I stood in the grove of ornamental trees for some time. I even sat there with a coffee. All I heard was a late Red-naped Sapsucker tapping above me and I was sure that it wouldn’t be here if any hidden threat was present. Next I thought of the possibility that something visual was alarming the birds. I got this idea after watching an intrepid Black-capped Chickadee approach the feeder only to let out an alarm cry and do a U-turn in the air and fly back into shelter. Perhaps something man-made on the side of the house, like the head of a nail or something similar looked like the eyes of a predator. I did a visual inspection of that portion of the roof and side of the house that I could see from the ground but there were no obvious problems. I later removed the clay birds from the sill inside the house thinking that to me they seemed innocuous but at this juncture anything was suspect. Still no birds came. In three days of watching I counted only three birds that alit on the once-busy feeder. The first was the Junco that stopped and was quickly gone. The second bird on the second day was a Black-capped Chickadee touched down but left without a seed. Yesterday a Goldfinch in winter plumage landed and stayed for some time. Oddly it was not joined by any other birds despite an old duck hunting theory that ‘confidence birds’, not the pursued species but other species of birds, can be used as decoys because their presence signals safety. Obviously the goldfinch’s presence did not work. Today is the fourth day of the mystery and I began it by sitting in the mist, a most appropriate metaphor. Around me, hidden in the fog, I could hear Nuthatches, Grey Jays, Kinglets and overhead, Canada Geese. In recent days, in order to analyze the lack of feeder birds, I have pondered habitat changes, ponds drying up, and weather changes but nothing holds the answer. Yet, here in the fog, surrounded by the sounds of birds, I am tempted to accept that there are things we cannot fathom. To e-mail Tom CLICK HERE To look at previous column CLICK HERE |
