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April 29th, 2004  April Glowers We get our weather forecasts from a long way off, 300 miles to be exact, so it isn’t always surprising when the prognostications don’t prove accurate. Judging by the satellite pictures on Sunday though it was looked like we were in for some interesting weather in the next few days. Monday the temperature soared to its highest point yet and swarms of flying ants took to the air. It seemed like summer. Tuesday saw a return to the ice age with strong winds and snow mixed with rain, more reminiscent of October than April. Wednesday dawned cold and clear. Before this week the weather had been rather stable and I expected to see Flycatchers and leaf-loving Warblers returning early. They never did. So it was a shock on that crisp Wednesday, as I stepped from the back door and passed the frozen bird bath, to hear what sounded like the song of an Orange-crowned Warbler coming from the treetops down by the road. When I got down to the van I stopped and listened again. There it was again, a sound that couldn’t really be called a song, because it sounded more like a spluttering exhalation. What else could it be but the Orange-crowned Warbler? I chose not to believe my ears. I started the van, scraped all the windows of a heavy layer of frost then stood and listened. There it was again, the little bubbling, trailing off exhalation. I forgot to mention that at the same time the mystery sound was being produced two dozen Siskins were also making every sound they could produce. Morning traffic was also speeding by raising its own ruckus so rather than strain my ears further I left the mystery sound hanging in air and sped off towards town. Once in town I walked quickly to the marsh to check on one of my latest projects. Two days ago, I hung three bird boxes on the back of a vintage sign after watching a dozen Tree Swallows fight over a grand mansion of a purple Martin box. This squabbling happens every year despite the fact that a Martin box could easily accommodate a dozen pairs of Swallows. It’s not their fault though; they’re just not into colony nesting. Eventually, only one pair of Tree Swallows wins the prize. I couldn’t spot a Swallow anywhere least of all around my alluring newly erected boxes. Last night’s cold must have put a damper on their activities and they were either off feeding where the air was warmer or else they hadn’t taken flight yet. While at the marsh I also scanned the marsh for potential duck box tenants that I thought might have been attracted by a duck box also recently installed. Last year I carted a duck box to the tourist information building and suggested that perhaps it could hang on a vacant pole just to the south of the building. The pole was vacant because another Purple Martin box that had hung there for many years finally succumbed to time and weather and had to be removed. This spring the works yard guys affixed my duck box to the pole just after the ice came off the marsh and all was ready for the influx of cavity nesting ducks. There was however, a little bit of a problem. During the hanging the box’s entrance hole was turned the wrong way, facing the airport runway rather than the marsh. Not wanting to be a bother I thought the ducks and I could live with that challenge. Fortunately another problem came to light. After mounting the duck box, the pole was discovered to have an unsteady footing. I say fortunately because if the works yard guys had to come back to fix the new problem they could certainly face the box to the marsh at the same time. Now I watched the calendar, the ducks, and the progress of the box with some concern. Goldeneye females search feverishly for a nest box or cavity then about the end of April, mate if they have secured likely housing facilities. It was now the 20th of April and the duck box was still doing pirouettes right in front of suitable tenants. How were the ducks taking it? The first prospective tenant was a female Common Goldeneye. She had a male in attendance when I saw her, and must have made some sorties to the box to see if it felt secure. At this point the duck box still teetered on its footings and I wondered if this gave her pause. In the days following her investigations only a lone male Common Goldeneye lingered in the water in front of the duck box. The female most likely moved on to look at something with a better foundational structure. The next possible tenants were a Barrow’s Goldeneye pair. They showed up after the box was turned to face the proper direction. The Barrow’s floated just offshore along the north side of the marsh, ‘sitting the box’ as I call it. Obviously they were interested. When the box came to its final resting place the Barrow’s were still in attendance. Taking my leave of the marsh, I walked to the park in order to investigate another duck box that I had put up about three years ago. In each past year a Barrow’s Goldeneye has used this particular duck box, but this year is different. This year I’d seen a pair of Common Goldeneyes sitting on the water in front of the duck box, but when I checked on a few mornings after that they were absent. I’d also seen a male Common Merganser sitting on the pond in front of the box, later he was in the presence of a female, but they also vanished. This morning this location was without any kind of waterfowl. I now turned my attention to other distractions. Looking up, I saw two brilliant yellow birds moving about in the top of a poplar tree. These were certainly Orange-crowned Warblers! The mystery songster in my yard this morning must also have been an Orange-crowned Warbler! Until this morning I wouldn’t have described Orange-crowns as brilliant yellow but perhaps it was the light, or the joy of seeing Warblers after another long winter, whatever the reason, on this day their yellow was pure gold. As if to emphasize what great changes this day represented, an Empidonax Flycatcher hidden in the now-leafing poplar saplings, expelled a gentle utterance. The sound was barely audible but enough to draw my attention. The flycatchers were back! The Warblers were back! Despite nasty weather and my own sense of what I thought the birds should be doing and when, we had stepped into the next phase of spring. Maybe the birds watch a better weather channel than I do. To e-mail Tom CLICK HERE To look at previous column CLICK HERE |
