A Bird for Each Month: January to June
Phenology – “a branch of science concerned with the relationship between climate and periodic biological phenomena (as the migration of birds or the flowering and fruiting of plants).”
Primary Phenological Phact
Ancient peoples long ago figured out, sometimes to an astonishing degree of accuracy, that a year is just over 365 days long. That could be considered the primal phenological phact, because wherever you are on this planet, the weather today is pretty much expected to be similar to the weather a year ago, ten years ago, a century ago, or a thousand years ago. Yes, I know all about global warming and the ice age, but the patterns in the North County have long been to have some very cold days in January and a few hot days in July. In the southern hemisphere, the seasons are flipped, and at different latitudes, the winter and summer seasons will be longer or shorter. However, the seasons repeat every 365 days, which the Romans and others divided into months of about 30 days each.
However, there is no consensus as to when the year begins. The ancient Romans and Greeks started their year in March, because that marked the beginning of spring in their world, and they went so far as to have special names for most of the months. From time to time, as political fortunes changed, the names and lengths of the months were changed. For example, the fifth and sixth months were re-named July and August to honor Julius Caesar and Augustus Caesar. To ensure that these months honoring the overthrow of the Roman Republic were among the longest, the Romans extracted an extra day for each of them from the end of the year, which then was February. This “Caesarian Selection” explains why February has only 28 days.
However, for some reason, the Romans failed to leave us with special names for the next four months, which can be translated as Month 7, Month 8, Month 9, and Month 10. We have kept these unimaginative names, even though our twelve-month calendar now ends in what we call the Month 10!
Over the next couple of thousand years, phenological concerns led to the addition of an extra day at the end of every fourth year, as well as some minor adjustments to ensure that the time we allot to each year is in fact the same as the actual time that it takes the earth to orbit the sun. We can easily accept an extra day now and then to catch up on our reading or housecleaning in return for knowing that seasons, wherever we live, will be pretty much the same year after year.
Well, this is a long introduction to explain that this month’s essay begins in the frozen month of January solely to be in alignment with our calendar year. Starting in March, when the first of the migrating birds show up in the North Country, would be much more logical, just as biographies generally start with the famous person’s birth, not with their funeral. Well, this introduction may seem a bit ridiculous, but the rest of this essay really is for the birds.
January
Turkeys refuse to be intimidated by winter, they distain the handouts offered to small birds at out feeders, they happily ignore us as they walk across our roads and through our yards, and they enjoy the open views through the woods as much as any cross-country skier.
January 8, 2009 very windy, cloudy, 28 degrees. A half dozen turkeys had wandered in and out of small firs on either side of the snowmobile trail that goes over Bronson Hill. This might have been the same group of 8 turkeys that walked through the back yard two days ago.
January 25, 2016, 28 degrees. About eight inches of old power covered the Lower 40, where I found many tracks – deer, hare, maybe a fox, and small animals. On my return, I heard loud squawks, then saw two, no four turkeys fly off from their perches three quarters of the way up some tall maples, high above the area where Nancy often sees flocks of turkeys as she takes her walks down Pearl Lake Road. A fifth flew off as I veered up the slope toward the power lines.
January 8, 2018. A small group of turkeys huddled in the big willow in our back yard.
February
I recall seeing my first cardinal back around 1956 when we visited my cousins in Darien, Connecticut. Since these birds had not yet made it to Rhode Island, I was very excited to see such a colorful bird. I also recall seeing my first cardinal in the North Country about 20 years ago, but my records and photos only confirm four more sightings before 2014. However, over the past ten years, cardinals have not only become regular summer residents, they now show up here in the winter. Even the purple finch cannot top the brilliance of a male cardinal sitting on a snow-covered fir tree.
February 14, 2019. A cardinal sat in the fir tree, eyeing the sunflower seeds available in the feeder.
March
In March, the true beginning of the phenological year, spring is still more than a month away, but the arrival of the first migrating birds signals the beginning of the phenological year. Red-winged blackbirds are already checking out the nesting sites around the frozen pond and dropping by the feeder with the finches and titmice. Redwings are often found in early spring with starlings or grackles in a large group of blackbirds, but only the redwings will be summer residents by the pond, which is why I have chosen them as the bird of the month for March.
March 3, 2022. The first group of redwings showed up at the feeder, all of them males or juveniles
April
Yellow-Bellied Sapsuckers are the most beautiful of the North Country woodpeckers, and also the most industrious. Since they aren’t shy, you can watch them pecking their well-aligned holes in a birch tree in order to start the sap flowing for them and for a host of insects.
April 24, 2017, 55 degrees, noon. The first sapsucker of the year tried out some new holes on a birch near the wood shed. He’d peck a half dozen times; wait; look left, right and around at me; more pecking; repeat. He defecated three times in 12 minutes. I remained motionless to see how long it would stay on the tree: 1147 to 1158. When he finally left, he merely flew to the next tree a few feet away. Then I moved, scaring it. Later, while I was at the shed cutting wood to 5-foot lengths, another one (a juvenile?) landed on the side of the shed only two feet from my eye! It saw me and quickly departed. I came back with my camera, and eventually managed some photos.
April 24, 2017. A yellow-bellied sapsucker worked on drilling its rows of holes in the birch tree by the entrance to the Upper Meadow. Sapsuckers have been doing the same thing to this tree for many years, and the sap flowing from these holes attracts butterflies, ants and wasps throughout the summer.
May
Cedar waxwings are elegant, aristocratic, and ever so delicate in choosing a tiny fruit or a flower blossom for themselves or their mates. I have often come across a small flock of waxwings feeding in an apple tree covered with bright blossoms or a fruit tree full of ripe berries. Our first spring in Sugar Hill, we were so excited to see them hanging out in the birches and alders lining the pond, that we named the pond “Waxwing Pond”.
May 30, 2020, 75 degrees, partly cloudy. A hard rain last night brought the temperatures down from the high 80s to mid-90s that we had to endure the last three days. A flock of a half dozen waxwings were in the apple trees before the solar array. More than one of them was eating the blossoms, one petal at a time.
June
By June, most of the summer residents have built a nest, found a suitable birdhouse, or settled into a comfortable hole excavated by a woodpecker. In the front yard, blue birds and tree swallows have battled over the bird house.
May 29, 2004. Mr. Bluebird is staking a claim on the front house, but Mrs.is nowhere to be seen. So far, the tree swallows are also absent. Mr. perched on the post about 1pm, looked about for several minutes, dropped down to the top of the house, looked some more, then dropped to the perch on the front of the house. Very warily, he then leaned forward and, for barely a microsecond, poked his head into and out of the opening. He looked around again, then went in for another microsecond view. He repeated this a third time, then flew to the apple tree and then the wire.
The next morning, Mr. and Mrs. Bluebird were both here – and so was a tree swallow. By the 31st, the battle for the bird house was in full sway. At 10am, the tree swallow stuck his head out. At 1010, the bluebird approached and the swallow flew out at him. They first had 5-10 seconds of very close order chasing, then fell to the ground for 3-5 seconds of pecking and wing flapping, and then the bluebird flew away. On June 1st, the tree swallows seemed to have control over the bird house.
Last year the blue birds won, and we could see the parents flying in and out to feed their brood:
June 8, 2023, late afternoon. I watched the bluebirds feeding their young. The female first brought a green inch-worm, then a larger worm. Sometimes she’d wait nearby a half minute or more, but other times she’d pop right in. Lots of activity at first, as both parents brought in food, but after 20 minutes, they didn’t come back. After ten more minutes, she returned without any food, sat atop the pole for a minute, then flew off.
June 14, 2023, 70 degrees, partly sunny, 10am. Mrs. Bluebird sat on one of Nancy’s planter sticks when I sat down on the porch to eat my cereal. Mr. flew in and landed on a neighboring stick, and both stared at their house for a minute or so. Then Mrs. flew over, peeked in, and flew off. Mr. did the same.
I eventually found a chance to slowly open the door to take a couple of photos. At least five nestlings nestled together in their nest, but only two of them bothered to take a look at the man who had let the sunlight into their bedroom.
June 14, 2023. Later in the day, when the nestlings had had enough to eat, the parents both flew away for their lunch, and I was able to take a peek inside for this photo.
[To be continued]
