“A Year of Birding in Bloedel” is a column that runs every Friday in the Bainbridge Islander. The project is planned to continue in 52 parts through 2014 to help readers find and identify birds in the island’s garden sanctuary. Beginning with this entry on the bald eagle, each column will also be published  here on the Bainbridge Conversation blog each Friday. 

The author, Ted Anderson, is a retired professor of biology, having taught at McKendree University (Ill.) for 32 years and for the University of Michigan’s summer biological station for 20 years, where he frequently taught the biology of birds.

Anderson is also the author of “Biology of the Ubiquitous House Sparrow, from Genes to Populations” (2006), and “The Life of David Lack, Father of Evolutionary Ecology” (2013). Ted and his wife Carol have been members of Bloedel Reserve for seven years. They live in Kingston. 

Often referred to as the Fish Eagle, the Osprey (Pandion hallaetus) is the second-most widely distributed raptor species in the world, occurring on every continent except Antarctica, as well as on many oceanic islands. Its colloquial name is an apt one, as its diet is comprised of 99 percent fish, and it is nearly eagle sized. It is more slender bodied than an eagle, however, and has narrower wings that are bent at the “elbow,” giving it a distinctive silhouette when it is soaring overhead. It leaves its breeding ground in the Pacific Northwest to spend the winter in South America.

Watching an osprey fishing can lead to some truly exciting viewing. On Puget Sound a fishing osprey will often fly in large circles near the shore, then hover for a few seconds before plunging in a head-first dive toward its intended prey. Just before entering the water it shifts to a feet-first position and sometimes disappears completely beneath the surface before it re-emerges, wings flapping vigorously with a fish clutched in its talons.

What happens next may be even more exciting to watch. Often a member of that notorious tribe of kleptoparasites, the bald eagle, has also been watching the osprey fishing. The would-be bandit begins its rapid pursuit of the successful fisherman laboring to gain altitude with his catch clutched tightly in its talons.

The eagle will then dive repeatedly at the fleeing osprey, sometimes striking it from above with its own talons. More often than not the hapless Osprey will release its catch, at which point the eagle will dive to retrieve it, sometimes even catching it in the air. A dramatic example of nature “red in tooth and claw!”

While soaring, ospreys will frequently utter a high-pitched chirp call that is characteristic of the species. If you scan the sky above you when you hear this call, you will often see the circling Osprey with its white underparts and “bent” wings. Two weeks ago when I visited Bloedel I heard an osprey calling over the pond in front of the Visitor’s Center and looked up to see two ospreys soaring overhead.

Keep your ears peeled for this chirp emanating from high in the sky.

“A Year of Birding in Bloedel” is a column that runs every Friday in the Bainbridge Islander. The project is planned to continue in 52 parts through 2014 to help readers find and identify birds in the island’s garden sanctuary. Beginning with this entry on the bald eagle, each column will also be published  here on the Bainbridge Conversation blog each Friday. 

The author, Ted Anderson, is a retired professor of biology, having taught at McKendree University (Ill.) for 32 years and for the University of Michigan’s summer biological station for 20 years, where he frequently taught the biology of birds.

Anderson is also the author of “Biology of the Ubiquitous House Sparrow, from Genes to Populations” (2006), and “The Life of David Lack, Father of Evolutionary Ecology” (2013). Ted and his wife Carol have been members of Bloedel Reserve for seven years. They live in Kingston. 

The migratory species that spend their summers and nest at Boedel began to arrive in mid-April, with plenty of time to spare before the celebration of International Migratory Bird Day on May 10. One such species, a common summer resident in forested areas with extensive undergrowth at Bloedel, is the Wilson’s Warbler (Cardellina pusilla).

It has made the long journey from Central America where it spends the winter. Wilson’s Warbler is more often heard than seen, its song a melodious “cheerycheery cheeeycheery chewchew,” the last notes slightly lower in pitch.

A glimpse of the singer is well worth the patience and work. The male has a bright yellow head and underside, gray wings and tail, and a greenish back — and a black cap on top of its head accentuating the bright yellow coloration. Females are a duller yellow and lack the black cap.

Wilson’s Warbler is named for the man who is often referred to as the “father of American ornithology.” Alexander Wilson was born in Paisley, Scotland, in 1766, but immigrated to America after being imprisoned for writing poetry protesting the working conditions of garment workers in Scotland. Here he developed an interest in natural history and decided to produce his own paintings of American birds. His hand-painted engravings of 268 bird species were published in three volumes entitled “American Ornithology” between 1808 and 1814 (2014 is thus the bicentennial of its completion).

Wilson’s Warbler was one of 26 species new to science that appeared in the folios. Wilson’s work helped to inspire John James Audubon to produce his magnificent body of work.

Listen and look for Wilsons’ Warbler in dense forest undergrowth near the Bird Marsh and near the Christmas Pond.

“A Year of Birding in Bloedel” is a column that runs every Friday in the Bainbridge Islander. The project is planned to continue in 52 parts through 2014 to help readers find and identify birds in the island’s garden sanctuary. Beginning with this entry on the bald eagle, each column will also be published  here on the Bainbridge Conversation blog each Friday. 

The author, Ted Anderson, is a retired professor of biology, having taught at McKendree University (Ill.) for 32 years and for the University of Michigan’s summer biological station for 20 years, where he frequently taught the biology of birds.

Anderson is also the author of “Biology of the Ubiquitous House Sparrow, from Genes to Populations” (2006), and “The Life of David Lack, Father of Evolutionary Ecology” (2013). Ted and his wife Carol have been members of Bloedel Reserve for seven years. They live in Kingston. 

The Danish-born Russian explorer Vitus Bering led two expeditions to Alaska and the Bering Sea in the early 1700s. The physician and natualist on his ill-fated second expedition (1740-1742) was Georg Wilhelm Steller.

When Bering’s ship, the St. Peter, visited Kayak Island in the Aleutisns in 1741, Steller discovered a striking jay new to science, but which he realized was clearly a close cousin of the Blue Jay of eastern North America. This relationship led Steller to deduce that Alaska was part of North America, not Asia.

Unfortunately the St. Peter encountered severe storms while attempting to return to its Russian home port, and was shipwrecked on what is now Bering Island, where the crew had to spend the long winter. Steller and about half the crew survived, but Vitus Bering did not, dying on Dec. 18, 1741. The jay and several other bird and mammal species were eventually named for their discoverer.

Steller’s Jay (Cyanocitta stelleri) is a denizen of the coniferous forests of western North America, but it has also adapted to life in urbanized environments. It, like its eastern cousin, is now a frequent visitor to backyard bird feeders. Its striking cobalt blue plumage over most of the body, except a charcoal gray hood, makes it a stand-out in any setting. Its strident alarm calls are often heard before the bird is seen, and it is quick to scold any perceived threat — hence, again like its eastern cousin, it is often referred to as the “sentinel of the forest.”

Jays and their relatives, the crows, are omnivorous, taking a wide variety of both animal and vegetable food. At backyard bird feeders it is particularly fond of sunflower seeds, a reflection of the fact that about three-quarters of its diet is vegetable.

Although most of the animal portion of its diet consists of insects, it also preys on the eggs and nestlings of other species of birds, which accounts for the fact that during the breeding season the “scolder” is frequently scolded by other birds. Listen for its raucous scolding as you walk along the forest paths in Bloedel — it may be scolding you.

“A Year of Birding in Bloedel” is a column that runs every Friday in the Bainbridge Islander. The project is planned to continue in 52 parts through 2014 to help readers find and identify birds in the island’s garden sanctuary. Beginning with this entry on the bald eagle, each column will also be published  here on the Bainbridge Conversation blog each Friday. 

The author, Ted Anderson, is a retired professor of biology, having taught at McKendree University (Ill.) for 32 years and for the University of Michigan’s summer biological station for 20 years, where he frequently taught the biology of birds.

Anderson is also the author of “Biology of the Ubiquitous House Sparrow, from Genes to Populations” (2006), and “The Life of David Lack, Father of Evolutionary Ecology” (2013). Ted and his wife Carol have been members of Bloedel Reserve for seven years. They live in Kingston. 

Last Friday, as my wife and I walked across the meadow toward the sheep barns, we were met by the haunting territorial call of the Pileated Woodpecker (Dryocopus pileatus) coming from the forest to the left of the path.

This call, a loud “cuk, cuk, cukcukcukcukcuk, cuk, cuk,” is often used in movie soundtracks to evoke an atmosphere of wilderness or primeval forest. Its territorial call and its unique drumming pattern serve similar advertising functions to those of songbird songs — mate acquisition and territorial defense.

Pileated Woodpeckers defend their territories throughout the year.

When we reached the bird marsh, the reason for the persistent calling of the male Pileated became apparent — another male was calling from the forest in the direction of the visitor’s center.
The crow-sized Pileated Woodpecker is the largest woodpecker in the Pacific Northwest, and is a year-round resident in forested regions in much of the United Sates and southern Canada. Their plumage is dull black with a prominent white stripe on the cheek and down the side of the long neck, while the head is crowned with a striking red crest (the inspiration for the cartoon Woody Woodpecker).

Pileated Woodpeckers feed primarily on ants and beetles that they obtain by excavating in decaying standing wood, often the trunks of dead trees, with their powerful beaks. Several such foraging sites can be observed as you walk the trails at Bloedel. Look for trunks that are heavily excavated with piles of large wood chips around the base — a Pileated has been feasting there.

For a large bird, Pileated Woodpeckers can be devilishly difficult to spot. They tend to move ahead of you as you walk through a wood, or perch out of sight on the far side of a tree. They will, however, readily come to backyard suet feeders, so if you want to get a good look at this magnificent woodpecker, you might add a suet feeder to your yard.

“A Year of Birding in Bloedel” is a column that runs every Friday in the Bainbridge Islander. The project is planned to continue in 52 parts through 2014 to help readers find and identify birds in the island’s garden sanctuary. Beginning with this entry on the bald eagle, each column will also be published  here on the Bainbridge Conversation blog each Friday. 

The author, Ted Anderson, is a retired professor of biology, having taught at McKendree University (Ill.) for 32 years and for the University of Michigan’s summer biological station for 20 years, where he frequently taught the biology of birds.

Anderson is also the author of “Biology of the Ubiquitous House Sparrow, from Genes to Populations” (2006), and “The Life of David Lack, Father of Evolutionary Ecology” (2013). Ted and his wife Carol have been members of Bloedel Reserve for seven years. They live in Kingston. 

In the Pacific Northwest we are fortunate that the Purple Finch (Haemorhous purpureus) is a year-round resident, while in much of the rest of the lower 48 it only occurs as a winter resident, migrating to the coniferous forests of Canada for the summer breeding season.

Like many other bird species, the sparrow-sized Purple Finch shows a striking color dimorphism, the males being predominantly raspberry red, while the females have a subdued brownish back and light underparts. Like the male, the female has a short, deeply forked tail, which helps to distinguish it from similarly plumaged sparrows.

Male Purple Finches begin singing in Bloedel in mid-March. Birdsong is generally understood to be a form of advertisement indicating that the male is establishing and defending a breeding territory. The signal is directed to both females and males of the same species. It acts as an attractant to females searching for mates and a nesting site, and as a deterrent to other males by notifying them that the singing male is prepared to defend his territory against interlopers.

The song of the Purple Finch is a melodious, warbling series of notes all on about the same pitch. In flight the birds emit a very characteristic “tick” call. When my wife and I visited Bloedel last week we heard singing Purple Finches in the forest adjacent to the parking area near the entrance and in the forest to the left of the path as we walked past the barns on our way to the bird marsh. Purple Finches typically build their nests near the ends of branches of an evergreen in mature conifer forests. The male’s singing perch is usually fairly high in a conifer, and he can be very difficult to spot.

During the winter Purple Finches frequently visit backyard bird feeders, particularly finch feeders containing niger or thistle seed. Here they are easily confused with their close cousin, the House Finch. The head and chest of male House Finches tend to be orange-red to true red rather than raspberry red, and the belly is heavily streaked while that of male Purple Finches is whitish with a few faint or no streaks. Females are very similar except that the female Purple Finch as a prominent white stripe over the eye that the female House Finch lacks. As their name implies, House Finches live in close association with humans, typically nesting in residential areas, city parks and on golf courses.

“A Year of Birding in Bloedel” is a column that runs every Friday in the Bainbridge Islander. The project is planned to continue in 52 parts through 2014 to help readers find and identify birds in the island’s garden sanctuary. Beginning with this entry on the bald eagle, each column will also be published  here on the Bainbridge Conversation blog each Friday. 

The author, Ted Anderson, is a retired professor of biology, having taught at McKendree University (Ill.) for 32 years and for the University of Michigan’s summer biological station for 20 years, where he frequently taught the biology of birds.

Anderson is also the author of “Biology of the Ubiquitous House Sparrow, from Genes to Populations” (2006), and “The Life of David Lack, Father of Evolutionary Ecology” (2013). Ted and his wife Carol have been members of Bloedel Reserve for seven years. They live in Kingston. 

Crows regularly mob potential predators such as hawks, owls or eagles that they discover in their habitat. The mobbing behavior involves numerous crows diving close to their enemy, sometimes even striking it with their bills and cawing loudly. This behavior may be responsible for a group of crows being referred to as “a murder of crows.”

Last Saturday as my wife and I walked down the path leading from the visitor’s center toward the birch grove, we heard a murder of Northwestern Crows expressing their intense displeasure at the presence of a Red-tailed Hawk (Buteo jamaicensis). The hawk was perched in a fir tree near the shoreline and seemed relatively unruffled by the persistent scolding and dive-bombing of the crows, although it did cock his head occasionally to maintain a wary eye on its tormentors.

The Red-tailed Hawk is a common year-round resident throughout much of the lower 48 and Mexico, and a summer resident throughout most of Canada and Alaska. Adults are predominantly brown on the back with cream-colored underparts, streaked on the belly with brown spots. As its name implies, the upper side of the tale is a deep rufous-red.

Small mammals comprise the bulk of the Red-tail’s diet, particularly mice, voles and rabbits. It hunts by soaring over open fields or grasslands, or by sitting on an exposed perch, to spot the movement of a potential prey. When a prey is located, the hawk dives through the air and attempts to capture it with its talons.

Look for this magnificent raptor soaring over one of the grassland areas at Bloedel, particularly on warm, sunny days when there are thermal updrafts. Alternatively, listen for a murder of crows to tip you off to the presence of this or another bird of prey.

“A Year of Birding in Bloedel” is a column that runs every Friday in the  Bainbridge Islander. The project is planned to continue in 52 parts through 2014  to help readers find and identify birds in the island’s garden sanctuary.   Beginning with this entry on the bald eagle, each column will also be published  here on the Bainbridge Conversation blog each Friday. 

The author, Ted Anderson, is a retired professor of biology, having taught  at McKendree University (Ill.) for 32 years and for the University of Michigan’s  summer biological station for 20 years, where he frequently taught the biology  of birds.

Anderson is also the author of “Biology of the Ubiquitous House Sparrow,  from Genes to Populations” (2006), and “The Life of David Lack, Father of  Evolutionary Ecology” (2013). Ted and his wife Carol have been  members of Bloedel Reserve for 7 years. They live in Kingston. 

My wife and I took advantage of a sunny Wednesday morning last week to enjoy a leisurely stroll through the Bloedel Reserve.  The most conspicuous bird species, besides the many ducks and geese, was the Dark-eyed Junco (Junco hyemalis).  We observed several individuals foraging on or near the paths as we walked, and the rather metallic and desultory trill, all at one pitch, that constitutes the male’s song at several places in the reserve.

The Dark-eyed Junco occurs throughout North America, and like many such species, it shows considerable variation across this extensive range.  In the Pacific Northwest, where the species is a year-round resident, male juncos have a black hood that covers the head and chest, a brownish back, rufous flanks, gray rump and tail, and white underparts as well a white beak and white outer tail feathers.  In females the hood is dark gray rather than black.

In eastern North America juncos are migratory, breeding primarily in Canada and the northernmost states, and spending their winters in central and southern states.  There the species is uniformly slate-colored except for the white underparts, beak and outer tail feathers.  Audubon referred to the species as the “Snow-bird,” and many Easterners still call it the snowbird.

The Dark-eyed Junco has been a research subject in many ecological, behavioral and physiological studies.  Arguably the most groundbreaking such study was published by the Canadian physiologist William Rowan in 1925.  Rowan kept juncos in outdoor aviaries in Alberta throughout the winter with nighttime temperatures dropping to as low as minus 50 degrees.  He artificially increased the day length in one cage with two 50-watt light bulbs, while the second cage served as a control on natural day lengths.  In a few weeks the juncos in the cage with increased day length began preparations for breeding in the dead of winter, while those in the other cage did not.

Rowan suggested that day length, or photoperiod, was the environmental cue that triggered the timing of migration and reproduction in the species.  Many follow-up studies on numerous species of birds confirmed this conclusion and demonstrated the existence of an internal biological clock (circadian rhythm) in birds and most other organisms, including humans.  Studies on birds identified the role of melatonin in the regulation of the circadian rhythm, a fact that has led to the use of melatonin to alleviate the effects of jet-lag in humans.