The Doorbell Bird

Often I am awakened by birdsong, which is a lovely thing. But in the spring, with all birds crazily vying for territory and trying to attract a mate, it can sometimes be, well, a little much. Especially when one of them makes a quite distinct sound, and you don't know which bird is making it.

Song Sparrow

I am fairly well acquainted with the common birds around here: robins, chickadees, crows, various sparrows, swallows which arrive in the spring, and lots of others that arrive from the south also. But this spring, I became acutely aware of a different sound. It came from high in the trees, often starting at first light, (which at the moment is 5:51 a.m. *grumble*) and carrying on throughout the day.

For lack of a better description, it sounded (to me) like a high-pitched doorbell. Ding-dong. Ding-dong. Over. And over. And over.

Then it would vary the song: Ding, ding. Ding Ding Ding.

Frantically (with some deep-seated desire to know what it was - perhaps a writers' trait, perhaps a crazy person's trait) I perused all of my bird books for an itinerant bird that came north in the spring to mate and raise its family. Of course books often give crazy, well-intentioned, written out descriptions of bird songs, such as "quick, three beers" (really?) and "Oh, dear me."

But none of them mentioned a doorbell bird. What is this darn thing? Ding-dong. Ding dong, over and over! Desperate, I found a bird identification site specific to our county. With that open on one tab, I then pulled up the Cornell Bird Identification site http://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/search and began cross-referencing each bird. (Yes, I can occasionally get somewhat obsessed with research.) The Cornell site even has recorded sounds for each bird, and I played each possibility, but with no luck. I assumed it was a Flycatcher or a Vireo singing its mating song from high in the trees. But nothing sounded like my Doorbell Bird.

As a last resort, I tracked down the name of a bird specialist from the local Audubon Society. He was very helpful, and suggested I send him a recording. So quite early the next morning, there I was in my bathrobe, standing on the porch taking a cell-phone video (with audio) of the bird. Of course, it was far, far away in the trees, and the sound was faint. Anyway, long story short, the bird specialist was stumped also.

But this dang ding-dong bird was driving me nuts! Do you think I could catch sight of it? Nooo. It had to be a smallish bird, but when I grabbed my binocs to scan the trees where it was singing, I could never spot this rare bird. All I ever saw was the standard sparrows, wrens, chickadees, and the like. By now I was sure it was some rare species, totally off its course, and it would get written up in the bird books as a rare sighting. Maybe it was a never-before discovered bird, and I would even get the honor of naming it! What should I call it: The Doorbell Bird? The Ding Dong Bird? No, none of them sounded quite right.

But I was in luck. The bird specialist ( a very helpful man) agreed to come out in the morning and listen! Here was help. I would soon come to the bottom of this!

Eagerly awaiting an opportunity to show off my birding skills, and get written up the newspaper for my rare discovery (the writer's mind doth wander) I jumped back onto the Cornell site again, listening for all of the common birds around here: the sparrows, the wrens, the chickadees. We all know what chickadees sound like, right? "Chick-a-dee-dee-dee."

Lo and behold, on the song selection for a Black-capped Chickadee http://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Black-capped_Chickadee/sounds  were six different calls. I had never listened to them before, because I was quite sure I knew about chickadees. Wrong!!!

Call #1, listed as Pacific Northwest Whistled Song, is the Ding, ding, ding, ding sound.
Call # 4, listed as Typical Song, is the dang Doorbell Song!

So, with virtual egg-on-my-face, I emailed the Audubon Bird Specialist back and told him he really didn't have to come at all. I was absolutely certain that my "rare" bird was actually a Black-capped Chickadee!

"You are not the first person who has been stumped by the various calls of chickadees," he wrote back, probably in an attempt to make me feel better.

But I do feel much better now. I know what it is! At 5:51 this morning, when the Ding-Dong sound woke me from high in the cedar trees outside of our bedroom, I simply pulled the pillow back over my head and mumbled "Shut up, you stupid Chickadee!"

The Sound of Birds

One of the joys of living close to nature is identifying the sounds of birds. If you know their song or their voice, you become aware of the seasonal comings and goings of different birds in your area.

Even if you don't know which exact bird, surely you can tell baby birds this time of year by their "cheep, tweep, Mom, I'm hungry" sound from high in the treetops. Look up, and you might spot their nest. Be very still, and you might be lucky enough to see Mom or Dad swoop in for a feeding. (Trust me, it's a thrill.)

I blogged once about the joy of hearing the sound of a Swainson's Thrush (my overall favorite bird song.) http://lindabenson.blogspot.com/2010/06/song-of-swainsons-thrush.html

I identified a new bird last year, which has a different song - not as pretty, but I waited for the Yellow-Breasted Chat to show up again this year, and like clock-work, it arrived about May 2. I blogged about that chatterbox right here: http://lindabenson.blogspot.com/2013/06/the-chatterbox.html



And in the last couple of days, I spotted a fleeting swoosh of blue flying between trees. Yes, we have Western Bluebirds this year, and believe it or not, this is the first time I've actually seen this bird. They appear to be nesting here, and I can hardly wait to watch their babies arrive.

Spring brings lots of nature's delights, and I hope you take the time to watch and listen for them. You might be surprised what you'll learn!

The Bird Nerd

Every single year, when the days finally get long and the weather warm, I have a hard time staying interested in writing. Yes, I know I have four books published, with a fifth, called Walking the Dog coming out this September. So I do have the physical proof that I am *clearsthroat* actually a writer.

But I don't want to write in the summer! And I have to remind myself, every single year, that yes, I am truly a writer, but summers are for Being Outside! Smelling the Flowers! And Bird Watching!

Because I find myself spending hours watching mother birds talking to their broods, encouraging them to leave the nest. I grab my camera at every opportunity to take silly shots of baby birds in and out of their nests. And annoy my friends by posting them on facebook. Yes - it's true. I am a certified Bird Nerd!

Baby Barn Swallows in Nest

Baby Barn Swallows who just left the nest, learning to fly.

See what I mean??

And because my life spills over into my writing, there is even a scene in my newest book, Six Degrees of Lost, where the barn swallows suddenly leave, which they do. They grow up and fly south. It will happen soon now, and summer will be over, and I'll go back to my regularly scheduled program of banging out words on the computer.

But for now, excuse me. I'm off to spot a young Swainson's thrush . . .

A Family of Eagles

Returning from a walk yesterday and preparing to do farm chores, I heard an animal sound I didn't recognize, and looked all around for it. It was a chittering, talking sound.

Squirrel? No.

Redtail Hawk? No - they have a distinct Kee-Kee call.

With some hidden instinct, I looked straight above me and soaring high overhead I saw this:

Bald Eagles!

Actually, there were five total - two with the distinct white head and tail, and three smaller ones in a dark color, which I can only assume were juveniles.

Do they have a nest nearby? We live on a long ridge between two branches of a river, and hopefully there are enough fish in the river to support these eagles. I see them occasionally (maybe several times a year) around here, but have never seen what I believe to be a family of eagles in these parts.

It was definitely my thrill for the day.

Have you ever seen a Bald Eagle? Or a family of them?
Are they common where you live?

Birds in the Barn

Summer is such a busy season in the country. There is mowing, watering, and weeding to be done, as well as picking strawberries, raspberries, and soon, vegetables.
And of course there is Birdwatching.

I caught these little Barn Swallows on their very last day in the nest, just before they fledged.

I'd been watching this nest for days. It's on the rafter right above the stall door, and the mama and daddy flew off whenever anyone came near. I wasn't sure they'd be successful raising their babies, and I hardly heard a peep above me. So imagine my surprise when I looked up one day and noticed these little ones, already crowding the nest.

Usually the fledglings fly around in the rafters for a few days, testing their wings and getting a good handle on the whole flying process. But not these guys . . .

The very next morning they were all over the sky! Mom, Dad, and not three, but four babies! Soaring, darting, swooping through the air - a multitude of scissor-tailed Barn Swallows!

Good luck little ones! Have a Happy Life!

Have you ever watched baby birds learning to fly?

Waiting on Swallows

March 21st. Is it Spring yet? I'll know it's Spring when my swallows arrive.

The violet green swallows are the first to arrive, somewhere near the end of March. They spend the winter far to the south, in Central or South America, and it's truly a miracle of nature that they make the long journey north every year. And they come back to the same place!

How do I know this? My neighbor (who lives down the road a bit) and I keep track of "our" swallows. Her large family group is already here. They arrived a few days ago, swooping over her vast array of nesting boxes - checking out the real estate for swallow houses and places to raise their babies.

"My" swallows always come a few days later, where they nest under the eaves in our shop and in the swallow houses we tacked up for them. I believe it's the same family group, although they must lose members along the way, and add new ones with the babies that are born each year. How amazing is it that they teach the new ones where to go year after year?

I keep a journal of when they arrive each year. Last year they came on March 23rd.

A little later, the barn swallows, with their churring little trills and squeaks will arrive to build their mud nests in the eaves of our barn and raise their little ones.

But for now, I await the violet greens, with their lovely twirps and chirps and loop-de-loops in the air. Will it be today? Come on, Swallows!

Do you have swallows nesting where you live?

Do you know when they arrive?

Birdwatcher

I am a birdwatcher. I have two pairs of binoculars on the shelf next to my writing desk - at the ready whenever I need to check out a flutter of wings in a tree outside my window. I've also been know to drop everything in the middle of a conversation, dash to the bookshelf for a bird book, and flip through pages trying to correctly identify which bird just flew past. Yeah, I know. A Certifiable Nutcase. A Bird Nerd.




I've identified most of the common birds and seasonal visitors we have around our place, and my newest favorite hobby is to identify them by sound. Some are a bit secretive and hard to spot, but have an easily recognizable song or call (like the Swainson's thrush which I wrote about here.)


So for the last few weeks, I'd been mystified by a weird nasal noise that I could not identify. It sounded like it came from high in the treetops, and I heard it early in the morning, and again at dusk. I expected some kind of fledgling crying for its mother, but I couldn't find it. I grabbed my binoculars and noticed birds flapping and darting over the big valley across from us (which used to be timber until they logged last year.) They were dark birds, smaller than a hawk, bigger than a swallow, bigger than bats, but what?


I spread five different bird books out and madly roamed the pages, flipping between swifts and flycatchers, and nightjars and nighthawks. Taking the binocs back down to the road, I caught a flash of white on the undersides of the wings. Yes! I pumped my fist. I've got it now! Common Nighthawks!

These birds nest on the ground, and when not in flight, pretty much camouflage themselves and are nothing to look at. Oh, but to see them dart and swoop, they are quite eloquent in flight, and they eat up to 300 mosquitoes a day. They are here in our north country for just the summer, and will leave soon for the southern hemispheres. Here's a site that tell more about them: http://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Common_Nighthawk/lifehistory

I am so thrilled to identify another bird. I will watch for them next Spring, when they return to raise their babies.

As writers, we need to keen in on the small details in life, whether it be nature, or people's gestures or facial expressions, or even the detail of buildings or a city street. Writers pay attention to details. But everyone should, don't you think? It makes life so much more interesting.

Have you noticed anything lately that you never knew before? Some sudden discovery that made you excited about life? Please share.

Song of the Swainson's Thrush

I woke this morning to the song of a Swainson's Thrush. Joy. Pure joy. This rather plain, unassuming little bird has the loveliest song of all - like Pan in the forest with a magical spiraling flute.

He arrived last night - after a long journey from Central or South America - or somewhere far to the south. I sat in the living room, simultaneously watching television, checking twitter on my lap top, and reading a new YA book. Then, in the waning light of evening, a beautiful sound came through my window, and I hastily jumped up and walked out on the porch to listen.

With tears in my eyes I recognized the thrilling song and welcomed the little bird back. (Yeah, I know, I'm a sap.) It rained all day yesterday (in fact, it's been raining for three weeks straight) and the wind blew stormy and it didn't feel like June at all. Until now. The Swainson's thrush blew in behind that storm, and he will stay only about two months, here just to raise a family amidst our tall fir trees, and sing sweetly every evening and every morn.

Thrush are shy birds, and hard to spot. I learned to recognize their sound from a CD on identifying bird songs. Yes, folks, besides being a book worm, peep, tweep, and gleek, I'm also a bird nerd. And once you've identified the song of a thrush, you never forget it.

Writers talk a lot about goals. So many words a day, or pages. I made a goal many years ago (when I was just reaching adulthood) that I would always live somewhere pretty. And for the most part (except for some very short stints in apartments in San Francisco and Nashville) I've accomplished this goal.

What are your goals in life? I hope they encompass joy. For me - it's hearing the song of a Swainson's thrush.

Let me know what brings you joy in life.