During May in the northeastern United States, four kinds of common birds are obviously seen on and over extensive mud flats and shallow waters in rivers and larger impoundments. These interesting species, including bachelor groups of drake mallard ducks, flocks of Canada geese too young to pair off and breed, migrating least sandpipers and locally nesting tree swallows, help liven those seemingly barren habitats at that time. And each type of bird has its own foods while around those flats and shallows, which eliminates competition for those foods among them and allows them to live among the flats and shallows in peace and harmony.
Many mallard ducklings hatch by the end of April in this area. Their mothers are busy raising them with no help from drake mallards, which frees those males to form gatherings of their own on flats and shallows through much of summer. During that time the drakes "tip-up", with their tails in the air, to shovel up aquatic vegetation from the bottoms of shallow water.
Also in summer, mallard drakes molt their resplendent, "courtship" feathers, making them resemble the plainer, better camouflaged, hen mallards. Then the males grow new, handsome, courtship feathers that are mature by the end of September and adorn the drakes through the coming winter and spring.
Several full-sized, but sexually immature Canada geese gather into flocks on flats and shallows for safety and companionship. These large, majestic birds feed on tender grasses growing on the flats, and nearby, extensive lawns. And all the while they are gaining strength and wisdom so that in a few years many of them will pair off and rear goslings of their own.
Scores or hundreds of migrant least sandpipers stop their travels north to walk in loose flocks across mud flats and wade in inch-deep water to eat aquatic invertebrates they pull out of the mud before continuing their migrations north to raise young on the Arctic tundra of Canada and Alaska. They need lots of invertebrate fuel to make that long trip to the tundra.
Least sandpipers migrate north in May, after wintering on beaches and mud flats on Caribbean islands, Mexico's coasts and the shores of the southern United States. Being brown and darkly-streaked above and white below, these sparrow-sized sandpipers are hard to see on the flats and shallows until they fly or otherwise move. Sometimes flocks of least sandpipers, for seemingly no reason, suddenly sweep into the air and are off in wild, rocketing flight, quickly turning this way and that, showing white, then brown, then white again as they careen and circle, again and again, over water and flats. That rapid twisting of several birds in a flock at once in the air probably confuses hawks that would catch and eat sandpipers. Then, as suddenly as they took off, the sandpipers land again on the flats, looking like stones being tossed across the mud, and immediatly feed again on invertebrates in the mud.
By the end of May and into early June, most least sandpipers are on their way to the still-thawing tundra. But they were enjoyable to experience when they passed through this area in north-bound migration, stopping only to refuel.
While many mud flats and shallows are populated by gatherings of bachelor mallard drakes, immature Canada geese and feeding migrant sandpipers, loose collections of migrating and/or locally nesting tree swallows dash and swoop over the mud flats and shallows of rivers and lakes to catch flying insects. Those fast-flying, dodging swallows are entertaining in themselves to watch over bodies of water and flats where other kinds of birds are feeding.
Tree swallows are also handsomely dressed. Males are iridescent blue on top and white below. Their mates are more gray above. But both genders are beautifully streamlined for careening, maneuverable flight through the air after flying insects.
Mud flats are not as barren as they often look. They often have gatherings of a variety of birds, as well as a diversity of invertebrates, many of which ae food for those birds.
Wednesday, May 27, 2020
Friday, May 22, 2020
MERGING MIGRATIONS
During a full moon, or new one, in May, when tides are highest in Delaware Bay, several hundreds of thousands of horseshoe crabs, which are really related to spiders and scorpions, migrate across the bottom of the bay and emerge on its gravelly/sandy shores to spawn. For several days, lines and masses of "crabs", some rows up to a hundred yards long, cover many shorelines.
Many crabs are already paired when they crawl a few inches up Delaware Bay beaches, the males clinging on top of the larger females. Each female lays thousands of tiny, dull-green eggs in the sand and gravel as she moves up the beach a little, dragging her mate with her, who fertilizes her eggs as he passes over them. After spawning, each pair retreats again to the bottom of the estuary, leaving the eggs to their fate.
Each adult horseshoe crab averages a foot and a half long, including the tail, and almost a foot wide. Their dull-brown shell is the shape of a horse's hoof, and there are several legs under that protective covering.
Horseshoe crabs, as a species, have remained virtually unchanged in coastal waters for over 500,000,000 years. The American species lives along the coast, and estuaries, from Nova Scotia to Mexico, including, and especially, in Delaware Bay. And there are a few other kinds along the west Pacific coast bordering east Asia.
Meanwhile, as the crabs spawn in masses, swarms of laughing gulls, semi-palmated sandpipers, sanderlings, ruddy turnstones, dunlin and red knots, the latter four kinds being shorebirds, too, land among the horseshoe crabs spawning on Delaware beaches to eat as many crab eggs as they can. One can hear the loud, constant laughing of the summering gulls as they feed, while the migrant shorebirds gorge on those eggs to regain fuel before the next lap of their migrations north to raise young on the Arctic tundra.
The merging migrations of hundreds of thousands of northbound shorebirds, along with the hundreds of gulls and hundreds of thousands of spawning crabs, create one of the grandest natural spectacles in North America. Lucky are those people who witness this great orgy of spawning and ingesting, to the benefit of the birds.
The knots have flown all the way from the southern tip of South America. These chunky sandpipers with robin-red underparts, have flown the greatest distance of these shorebirds.
Along many stretches of beach, hordes of shorebirds together clamber over and around the spawning crabs and feed on the crab eggs as fast as they can. And, periodically, often with seemingly no provocation, the gulls and shorebirds suddenly dart up into the wind and away in the air. Spectacular masses of airborne shorebirds swirl time and again over the bay and beaches, all twisting and turning together, all flashing brown, then white, in precision, without collision, then quickly settling on the area of crab eggs, like peanuts thrown across the beach, and immediately begin feeding again.
The tundra doesn't thaw until mid-May, or later. The sandpipers' migrations are instinctively timed to get those birds on the tundra by the latter part of May, when they will lay four eggs per clutch and hatch fuzzy, precocious young that will soon be able to run and feed themselves.
The horseshoe crabs' spawning, therefore, is good fortune for the north-bound shorebirds. That spawning coincides with the passage of those migrating shorebirds, giving them ample food for the next part of their journies.
This great merging of migrations along the Delaware Bay, and elsewhere, is a wonderful, natural spectacle to experience. It is one of the many exciting, inspiring happenings in nature that capture our imaginations and give us joy in God's works.
Many crabs are already paired when they crawl a few inches up Delaware Bay beaches, the males clinging on top of the larger females. Each female lays thousands of tiny, dull-green eggs in the sand and gravel as she moves up the beach a little, dragging her mate with her, who fertilizes her eggs as he passes over them. After spawning, each pair retreats again to the bottom of the estuary, leaving the eggs to their fate.
Each adult horseshoe crab averages a foot and a half long, including the tail, and almost a foot wide. Their dull-brown shell is the shape of a horse's hoof, and there are several legs under that protective covering.
Horseshoe crabs, as a species, have remained virtually unchanged in coastal waters for over 500,000,000 years. The American species lives along the coast, and estuaries, from Nova Scotia to Mexico, including, and especially, in Delaware Bay. And there are a few other kinds along the west Pacific coast bordering east Asia.
Meanwhile, as the crabs spawn in masses, swarms of laughing gulls, semi-palmated sandpipers, sanderlings, ruddy turnstones, dunlin and red knots, the latter four kinds being shorebirds, too, land among the horseshoe crabs spawning on Delaware beaches to eat as many crab eggs as they can. One can hear the loud, constant laughing of the summering gulls as they feed, while the migrant shorebirds gorge on those eggs to regain fuel before the next lap of their migrations north to raise young on the Arctic tundra.
The merging migrations of hundreds of thousands of northbound shorebirds, along with the hundreds of gulls and hundreds of thousands of spawning crabs, create one of the grandest natural spectacles in North America. Lucky are those people who witness this great orgy of spawning and ingesting, to the benefit of the birds.
The knots have flown all the way from the southern tip of South America. These chunky sandpipers with robin-red underparts, have flown the greatest distance of these shorebirds.
Along many stretches of beach, hordes of shorebirds together clamber over and around the spawning crabs and feed on the crab eggs as fast as they can. And, periodically, often with seemingly no provocation, the gulls and shorebirds suddenly dart up into the wind and away in the air. Spectacular masses of airborne shorebirds swirl time and again over the bay and beaches, all twisting and turning together, all flashing brown, then white, in precision, without collision, then quickly settling on the area of crab eggs, like peanuts thrown across the beach, and immediately begin feeding again.
The tundra doesn't thaw until mid-May, or later. The sandpipers' migrations are instinctively timed to get those birds on the tundra by the latter part of May, when they will lay four eggs per clutch and hatch fuzzy, precocious young that will soon be able to run and feed themselves.
The horseshoe crabs' spawning, therefore, is good fortune for the north-bound shorebirds. That spawning coincides with the passage of those migrating shorebirds, giving them ample food for the next part of their journies.
This great merging of migrations along the Delaware Bay, and elsewhere, is a wonderful, natural spectacle to experience. It is one of the many exciting, inspiring happenings in nature that capture our imaginations and give us joy in God's works.
Sunday, May 17, 2020
FEATHERED ENTERTAINERS
In mid-May of 2020, I visited two small, public parks, in consecutive afternoons, in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, to see what creatures were about and what they were doing. Both days were partly sunny, but windy, and cool for May. The parks each had lawns, tall trees, shrubbery and a waterway flowing through it. Interestingly, most of the birds I saw in one park, I saw in the other. And those birds were involved in the same activities in each park.
Two casts of feathered characters were in both parks. Actors with minor parts those two days included American robins on lawns, Baltimore orioles, Carolina chickadees and downy woodpeckers among the trees, and gray catbirds in shrubbery. But swallows and swifts were the main actors in the air while yellow-rumped warblers played that dominant role in the bushes. Those characters were the most entertaining during the days I visited those parks.
In both parks, little groups of barn swallows, with a few each of tree swallows and purple martins mixed in, swooped back and forth, up and down and around and around, just above the creeks and lawns to catch flying insects, their only food. Those three kinds of swift, highly-manuverable swallows weaved among their fellows without collision with them.
Swallows are streamlined with swept-back wings for speedy, manuverable flight after flying insects they catch in mid-air. And males of each species have iridescent feathering that, apparently, is attractive to females of their respective kinds. Male barn swallow are deep-purple on top and light-orange below while male tree swallows are blue above and white beneath. Male martins are deep, shiny purple all over.
Meanwhile, several chimney swifts swirled rapidly above the treetops to catch flying insects. Swifts are about the size of swallows, but dark-gray all over, and generally sweep higher across the sky after flying insects than swallows do. Therefore, competition for that food on the wing is reduced between those groups of birds.
Small, flying insects were active in both parks those two days, in spite of the cold wind. The sunlight warmed the ground and the waterways, which heated the air above them, allowing the insects the energy to fly and be available to the swallows and swifts.
Many, attractive yellow-rumped warblers consumed small invertebrates in the foliage of trees and shrubbery in both parks. Each pretty bird constantly flitted from twig to twig in its quest for food. Some individuals sang snatches of their trilling songs as they moved about and caught invertebrates.
Males are the more striking of the two genders of yellow-rumps. Each male is mostly gray and black with yellow on its rump, crown and each flank. Female yellow-rumps have those same color patterns, but not as vividly.
Those yellow-rumps were making their way north to raise young in Canada's boreal forests. But their swarms are also beautiful and intriguing to experience while they are feeding on invertebrates in foliage between the steps of their migration.
Swallows, swifts and warblers are small in size, but big in beauty, grace and entertainment. They all certainly livened the two parks I visited this May.
Two casts of feathered characters were in both parks. Actors with minor parts those two days included American robins on lawns, Baltimore orioles, Carolina chickadees and downy woodpeckers among the trees, and gray catbirds in shrubbery. But swallows and swifts were the main actors in the air while yellow-rumped warblers played that dominant role in the bushes. Those characters were the most entertaining during the days I visited those parks.
In both parks, little groups of barn swallows, with a few each of tree swallows and purple martins mixed in, swooped back and forth, up and down and around and around, just above the creeks and lawns to catch flying insects, their only food. Those three kinds of swift, highly-manuverable swallows weaved among their fellows without collision with them.
Swallows are streamlined with swept-back wings for speedy, manuverable flight after flying insects they catch in mid-air. And males of each species have iridescent feathering that, apparently, is attractive to females of their respective kinds. Male barn swallow are deep-purple on top and light-orange below while male tree swallows are blue above and white beneath. Male martins are deep, shiny purple all over.
Meanwhile, several chimney swifts swirled rapidly above the treetops to catch flying insects. Swifts are about the size of swallows, but dark-gray all over, and generally sweep higher across the sky after flying insects than swallows do. Therefore, competition for that food on the wing is reduced between those groups of birds.
Small, flying insects were active in both parks those two days, in spite of the cold wind. The sunlight warmed the ground and the waterways, which heated the air above them, allowing the insects the energy to fly and be available to the swallows and swifts.
Many, attractive yellow-rumped warblers consumed small invertebrates in the foliage of trees and shrubbery in both parks. Each pretty bird constantly flitted from twig to twig in its quest for food. Some individuals sang snatches of their trilling songs as they moved about and caught invertebrates.
Males are the more striking of the two genders of yellow-rumps. Each male is mostly gray and black with yellow on its rump, crown and each flank. Female yellow-rumps have those same color patterns, but not as vividly.
Those yellow-rumps were making their way north to raise young in Canada's boreal forests. But their swarms are also beautiful and intriguing to experience while they are feeding on invertebrates in foliage between the steps of their migration.
Swallows, swifts and warblers are small in size, but big in beauty, grace and entertainment. They all certainly livened the two parks I visited this May.
Saturday, May 9, 2020
FARMLAND STREAM BIRDS
In the last couple of weeks, I have seen several kinds of interesting birds along running streams in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania farmland. Overgrown stream banks of tall weeds and grasses, and sapling trees threading through constantly cultivated croplands are oases of shelter from the hazards of plowing, discing and harvesting for a variety of wildlife species. And those same oases provide natural food for wildlife.
The first waterway in local farmland I visited is bordered by tall grass and scattered sapling trees on both banks. And there I saw a handsome pair each of mallard ducks and wood ducks swimming in a slower stretch of water. The mallard hen will hatch several ducklings in a grass nest on the ground under sheltering tall grass on a stream bank. The female woody will hatch ducklings in one of two nest boxes erected along this stream for wood ducks to nest in. Some wood duck pairs are adapting to raising ducklings in farmland because of duck boxes being erected for them. And the ducklings of both kinds will mostly feed on aquatic invertebrates.
I also saw a permanent resident, well-camouflaged song sparrow and a striking male red-winged blackbird among the stream side tall grasses. The blackbird repeatedly sang his "kon-ga-ree" song. Both species will nest among those grasses, the song sparrows in a grass cradle on the ground and the red-wings by attaching their grass nursery to several grass stems above the soil. Both these pretty species will feed invertebrates they catch among the grasses to their young.
I saw two migrating birds eating invertebrates along the water's edge of this little waterway. One was a lesser yellowlegs, which is a kind of sandpiper, and the other was a sparrow-sized, camouflaged water pipit. Both species will rear offspring in Canada, the yellowlegs by a lake in Canada's forests and the pipit on that country's arctic tundra.
About a week later I stopped along another stream in Lancaster County cropland. Several handsome American robins were running and stopping, running and stopping over short grass in a meadow bordering this waterway. They were watching for earthworms and other kinds of invertebrates to ingest. Those robins probably will nest in young trees along an edge of that pasture and in trees on nearby lawns.
Several each of purple grackles and starlings, and a few red-winged blackbirds, walked about the short-grass pasture in search of invertebrates. The grackles will raise young in a nearby grove of spruce trees while the starlings probably will hatch babies in close by tree hollows and barn crevices. The red-wings, however, will anchor their grassy cradles to cattail stalks when they grow taller.
I also saw a few lesser yellowlegs and a couple of least sandpipers on narrow mud flats along the little waterway. Those sandpipers were fattening up on invertebrates they pulled from the mud before continuing their migrations farther north to raise youngsters.
But it was the cute, fluffy, camouflaged brood each of Canada geese, mallard ducks and killdeer plovers that were the delight of the day in that pasture. The pair of geese led their goslings out of the stream so the parents and young alike could graze on tender grasses. The lively ducklings and their mother stayed in a slow part of the stream to consume invertebrates. And the killdeer chicks, unchaperoned by their parents, walked over soggy parts of the pasture to catch and ingest invertebrates. Obviously, there was little or no competition among these birds for food, a reason they were all in the meadow together.
All the birds along those two waterways were lovely, intriguing and inspiring to experience. Nature is all of the above, and a gift from God.
The first waterway in local farmland I visited is bordered by tall grass and scattered sapling trees on both banks. And there I saw a handsome pair each of mallard ducks and wood ducks swimming in a slower stretch of water. The mallard hen will hatch several ducklings in a grass nest on the ground under sheltering tall grass on a stream bank. The female woody will hatch ducklings in one of two nest boxes erected along this stream for wood ducks to nest in. Some wood duck pairs are adapting to raising ducklings in farmland because of duck boxes being erected for them. And the ducklings of both kinds will mostly feed on aquatic invertebrates.
I also saw a permanent resident, well-camouflaged song sparrow and a striking male red-winged blackbird among the stream side tall grasses. The blackbird repeatedly sang his "kon-ga-ree" song. Both species will nest among those grasses, the song sparrows in a grass cradle on the ground and the red-wings by attaching their grass nursery to several grass stems above the soil. Both these pretty species will feed invertebrates they catch among the grasses to their young.
I saw two migrating birds eating invertebrates along the water's edge of this little waterway. One was a lesser yellowlegs, which is a kind of sandpiper, and the other was a sparrow-sized, camouflaged water pipit. Both species will rear offspring in Canada, the yellowlegs by a lake in Canada's forests and the pipit on that country's arctic tundra.
About a week later I stopped along another stream in Lancaster County cropland. Several handsome American robins were running and stopping, running and stopping over short grass in a meadow bordering this waterway. They were watching for earthworms and other kinds of invertebrates to ingest. Those robins probably will nest in young trees along an edge of that pasture and in trees on nearby lawns.
Several each of purple grackles and starlings, and a few red-winged blackbirds, walked about the short-grass pasture in search of invertebrates. The grackles will raise young in a nearby grove of spruce trees while the starlings probably will hatch babies in close by tree hollows and barn crevices. The red-wings, however, will anchor their grassy cradles to cattail stalks when they grow taller.
I also saw a few lesser yellowlegs and a couple of least sandpipers on narrow mud flats along the little waterway. Those sandpipers were fattening up on invertebrates they pulled from the mud before continuing their migrations farther north to raise youngsters.
But it was the cute, fluffy, camouflaged brood each of Canada geese, mallard ducks and killdeer plovers that were the delight of the day in that pasture. The pair of geese led their goslings out of the stream so the parents and young alike could graze on tender grasses. The lively ducklings and their mother stayed in a slow part of the stream to consume invertebrates. And the killdeer chicks, unchaperoned by their parents, walked over soggy parts of the pasture to catch and ingest invertebrates. Obviously, there was little or no competition among these birds for food, a reason they were all in the meadow together.
All the birds along those two waterways were lovely, intriguing and inspiring to experience. Nature is all of the above, and a gift from God.
Saturday, May 2, 2020
OUR OBVIOUS NESTING BIRDS
Five kinds of larger, more obvious, common and adaptable birds nest in our suburban neighborhood in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. Those five species are purple grackles, mourning doves, American robins, northern cardinals and gray catbirds. All these species are native to much of North America, and each kind has its own lifestyle, which allows them to live together with a minimum of competition for food and nesting places.
Every year, the grackles form a nesting colony of about twelve pairs in the numerous arborvitae trees. Those dark birds, with the beautiful purple sheen in their feathers, arrive here early in March and immediately start checking the cedars for nest sites. And between "house-hunting" they feed on local invertebrates, especially on lawns, and eat grain at bird feeders.
All day, every day, through March, April and May, grackle pairs are busily devoted to nursery preparations, incubating eggs and feeding young until those offspring fledge their cradles toward the end of May. That group of parent grackles create a hub-bub of activity as they shuttle food to their youngsters in their open-cup nests. And occasionally grackle parents have to fight off crows who would eat the eggs or young of grackles.
A couple of pairs of mourning doves each have two nurseries of young at the same time through summer, with the first clutch of two babies in March and the last pair of offspring in September. We hear the males' gentle cooing all spring and summer. These doves hatch their chicks in the sheltering boughs of spruce trees.
Some pairs of doves make their own nests of twigs and grass, but those cradles are flimsy affairs that could easily fall apart in strong winds, dashing eggs or young to the ground. Other pairs use the abandoned cradles of other birds, which prove to be more sturdy.
Mourning doves, like all their family, have two clutches of young at once to maximize their rate of reproduction. When a pair of chicks is half-grown in one nursery, their mother lays two eggs in another nest. And while one parent regurgitates and feeds the older youngsters a half-digested porridge of seeds, the other parent incubates the eggs, or small young, in the other nest. Each pair of doves switches back and forth between their nurseries all summer, putting out a pair of young every month, if their is no accidents or predation from crows, grackles and other creatures.
Every year, two pairs of American robins nest in shrubbery or small trees in our neighborhood. Robins arrive here by early March and I hear the males' lovely songs toward the end of that month. And, sometimes, I see the males fighting along the borders of their adjacent territories, though nobody gets hurt.
By mid-April, female robins are busily building open-cup nests of mud and grass in the forks of woody vegetation. It's interesting to watch them gathering those materials and making trip after trip to their nurseries to form them. When their cradles are ready, each female robin lays four lovely, blue eggs in her well-formed creation. And the young robins fledge toward the end of May, if they survived predation. But even after they leave their nurseries, young robins, and other kinds of young lawn birds, are subject to the predation of crows, hawks and house cats. But many of those birds survive to adulthood.
Two pairs of striking northern cardinals raise young in shrubbery in our neighborhood. We hear the males singing cheerily from the tops of tall trees as early as warm February afternoons. But I have yet to find the twig and grass cradle of a cardinal hidden in the bushes. However, I am not purposefully looking for them. I do see recently fledged cardinals and identify them by their dark beaks rather than the red ones of the adults. In summer, cardinals consume invertebrates and seeds, and come to bird feeders.
Two pairs of gray catbirds arrive here around the beginning of May. I usually hear the males' quiet, melodious singing before I actually see the birds. Somber as the shadows they nest in, catbirds raise young in shrubbery and feed them invertebrates. It's interesting to see catbird parents on lawns, like robins, looking for food.
These adaptable kinds of birds have adjusted to life in the suburbs. The world is full of adaptable species that make do among our activities, which is good for them, and us.
Every year, the grackles form a nesting colony of about twelve pairs in the numerous arborvitae trees. Those dark birds, with the beautiful purple sheen in their feathers, arrive here early in March and immediately start checking the cedars for nest sites. And between "house-hunting" they feed on local invertebrates, especially on lawns, and eat grain at bird feeders.
All day, every day, through March, April and May, grackle pairs are busily devoted to nursery preparations, incubating eggs and feeding young until those offspring fledge their cradles toward the end of May. That group of parent grackles create a hub-bub of activity as they shuttle food to their youngsters in their open-cup nests. And occasionally grackle parents have to fight off crows who would eat the eggs or young of grackles.
A couple of pairs of mourning doves each have two nurseries of young at the same time through summer, with the first clutch of two babies in March and the last pair of offspring in September. We hear the males' gentle cooing all spring and summer. These doves hatch their chicks in the sheltering boughs of spruce trees.
Some pairs of doves make their own nests of twigs and grass, but those cradles are flimsy affairs that could easily fall apart in strong winds, dashing eggs or young to the ground. Other pairs use the abandoned cradles of other birds, which prove to be more sturdy.
Mourning doves, like all their family, have two clutches of young at once to maximize their rate of reproduction. When a pair of chicks is half-grown in one nursery, their mother lays two eggs in another nest. And while one parent regurgitates and feeds the older youngsters a half-digested porridge of seeds, the other parent incubates the eggs, or small young, in the other nest. Each pair of doves switches back and forth between their nurseries all summer, putting out a pair of young every month, if their is no accidents or predation from crows, grackles and other creatures.
Every year, two pairs of American robins nest in shrubbery or small trees in our neighborhood. Robins arrive here by early March and I hear the males' lovely songs toward the end of that month. And, sometimes, I see the males fighting along the borders of their adjacent territories, though nobody gets hurt.
By mid-April, female robins are busily building open-cup nests of mud and grass in the forks of woody vegetation. It's interesting to watch them gathering those materials and making trip after trip to their nurseries to form them. When their cradles are ready, each female robin lays four lovely, blue eggs in her well-formed creation. And the young robins fledge toward the end of May, if they survived predation. But even after they leave their nurseries, young robins, and other kinds of young lawn birds, are subject to the predation of crows, hawks and house cats. But many of those birds survive to adulthood.
Two pairs of striking northern cardinals raise young in shrubbery in our neighborhood. We hear the males singing cheerily from the tops of tall trees as early as warm February afternoons. But I have yet to find the twig and grass cradle of a cardinal hidden in the bushes. However, I am not purposefully looking for them. I do see recently fledged cardinals and identify them by their dark beaks rather than the red ones of the adults. In summer, cardinals consume invertebrates and seeds, and come to bird feeders.
Two pairs of gray catbirds arrive here around the beginning of May. I usually hear the males' quiet, melodious singing before I actually see the birds. Somber as the shadows they nest in, catbirds raise young in shrubbery and feed them invertebrates. It's interesting to see catbird parents on lawns, like robins, looking for food.
These adaptable kinds of birds have adjusted to life in the suburbs. The world is full of adaptable species that make do among our activities, which is good for them, and us.
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