Big Sit 2009 Afternoon/Evening Report

As the day came on and the fog lifted, we began to tally lots more birds from the top of the Indigo Hill birding tower. The feeders got busier and netted us our expected American goldfinches and white-breasted nuthatches, plus three woodpecker species, and both of the common red finches: purple and house. Either one of these could have been a miss.

The list zoomed up into the 50s. At 10:22 am I posted this on Twitter and Facebook:
Indigo Hill Big Sit is at 56 species, just in time for the mid-day doldrums

11:52: Cape May warbler is number 61 for the Indigo Hill Big Sit. Nine more and we break the record!More people began arriving, too. And Phoebe, the social butterfly that she is, came up top fully suited up for the cool air. Unfortunately for this year's Sit, mid-morning was also when we lost Julie as a participant. She had to drive across the state to Dayton to give a talk, so we waved goodbye to her about 11 am. Jules is right up there with Jim McCormac in the birding skilz rankings, so her departure made the rest of us redouble our efforts.
The raptors put on quite a show in the afternoon, as rising warm air made soaring easier. Kettles of turkey vultures, numerous red-tailed hawks, and nice numbers of sharpies and Cooper's hawks were spotted by our keen-eyed sitters. In the photo above, the crew is watching a PO'd male sharp-shinned hawk dive-bombing a large female Cooper's hawk. This show went on for about 10 minutes out over our meadow, south of the tower.

I should apologize here for the lack of bird images. I did not drag my Canon big rig out at all during the Sit. The birding action was too good and, well, with all the Sitters, it was kind of tight up in the tower. It'd be just my luck that I'd drop that expensive piece of gear over the side. As it was, I lost only a pen, a glove, and a few beverage bottles and cans over the tower's edge.

As afternoon surrounded us, the air warmed, a light breeze kicked up, and adding a new bird to the list began to get much harder.
3:00 pm: Species 64 is a fly-by osprey at the Indigo Hill Big Sit.

By late afternoon, the sun had swung around to the southwest of the tower and our shadow was getting longer, stretching out to the northeast.

4:17 pm: Wild turkey, ruby-throated hummer, yellow-throated vireo gets our Big Sit to 67--two from the record for this site.

Here's the view from the tower, looking north, during the afternoon.

Sun dogs appeared late in the day, giving us something to marvel at since the birding was incredibly slow.

The Dirty Stay-ups are the birders who stay until dark.

And we NEVER QUIT birding!

Darkness takes control once more.

The final rays of the sun setting on yet another Big Sit.

And then, it was dark and everyone was gone. I posted one more update for the 2009 Big Sit.

8:09 pm: We'll man the circle 'til the bitter end but it looks like the final tally will be 67. Respectable, but two off the record.

I went downstairs, fixed the kids dinner, and got them into bed. After some clean-up of the kitchen and hauling down of gear, I felt the tower calling me back. So, at about 8:45 pm, I climbed up into the cold, damp night air for a little bit more listening, just in case three new birds for the list flew overhead, calling out their readily identifiable vocalizations.

In my quietude, I heard more Swainson's thrushes, a veery, a chipping sparrow, the barred owls in the east woods, a distant great horned—all birds we'd had earlier in the day. And I heard the echoes of my friends' voices and laughter, reminding me that this event—The Big Sit!—is as much about the people as it is about the birds.

Sixty-seven species is our second-highest total ever, topped only by last year's record-setting 69! It was a valiant effort and a great day of birding (but is there any other kind?)

You can see the results from dozens of other Big Sits from around North America and beyond by visiting the official Big Sit website.

Of course, the following morning there was a male ruby-crowned kinglet taunting me from the birches outside the kitchen window. A jumble of house sparrows took off from the forsythia, laughing that they'd skunked us on Sunday. And I heard the sweet sputter of an eastern meadowlark from the neighbor's hayfield as I walked Liam to the bus this morning.

And yet, I still love The Big Sit like no other birding event I've ever experienced.

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Big Sit 2009 Morning Report

Looking like Bazooka Joe at the start of 2009 The Big Sit.

Last year I blogged from the Indigo Hill birding tower throughout The Big Sit. This year my trusty laptop was off getting a new brain put in, so I was reduced to sharing reports via my iPhone on Twitter and Facebook. This was much easier for me, but perhaps not as informative for those of you on the receiving end, since Twitter limits each "tweet" to 140 characters.

I ascended the tower stairs at 11:48 and set myself up to start the 2009 Big Sit. Coats, headlamps, checklist, pens, gloves, my iPod, and miscellaneous other items went up the last set of stairs. The night air was cool and damp—but still, which would make hearing nighttime flight calls of migrants easier. The tower deck and rails were wet with dew, so I spread out a towel to keep my gear dry.

At the stroke of midnight I sent our this tweet:
Good luck and good birding to all Big Sit circles around the world! First bird here in Whipple: Swainson's thrush!

The thrush, and at least a dozen of his friends were flying overhead, uttering the flight call that sounds just like a spring peeper. Within minutes I had great horned and barred owl calling in the nearby woods. The half moon rose in the East, blood-red then tangerine then pale-butter in color as it climbed into the inky night.

My next tweet reflected my frustration at the other sounds of the night:
Heard: E. screech owl, gray catbird, wood thrush, Chevy Cavalier sans muffler, coonhound, 12-gauge shotgun, unidentified sparrow.

At 12:25:
There go the coyotes! Sounds like two packs. Eerie! Falling star tally: 3. Last new bird: Savannah sparrow.

By 1:15 am, things had quieted down, so I went back downstairs for a few hours' sleep. From past experience I assumed that the best time for additional nighttime birding would be in the two hours before dawn, when nocturnal migrants would be flying at lower altitude, prior to landing after dawn for foraging and rest. I set my alarm for 5 am and settled in for a bit of rest myself.

I made it back to the tower at 5:30, a bit bleary-eyed, but excited. Coffee was brewing and I had the whole Big Sit stretching out in front of me. It was still almost completely dark. Other Big Sit circles around the U.S. sent out tweets and text messages, comparing notes. We'd be in touch throughout the day, which was very cool.

By the time I heard the crunching gravel of the first fellow sitter to arrive at Indigo Hill, the list stood at 7 species. The early arrival was Jim McCormac, who'd driven down from Columbus, Ohio. Jim is a great birder and his eyes and ears would net us several new birds for the Big Sit list. As good as Jim is at hearing and identifying soft, distant bird noises, he does not have a realistic idea of his own noise making. Jim thought he'd been sneaky—driving up our long, gravel driveway slowly, without headlights. Stopping next to the garage he proceeded to play a recording of a Chuck-wills-widow. Somehow thinking I'd be fooled into believing this prank. Silly man.

6:12 am. First fellow sitter arrives: Jim McC. We are mired temporarily at 8 species. Just added chipping sparrow.

Soon Zick joined us up in the tower, as did house guests Anton and Nina Harfmann. In the hour prior to actual daylight, a heavy fog rolled up from the valley, enclosing us in its wet embrace.

Jim, Zick, Nina, Anton in the fog.

The resident birds soon began to wake up, and the list began to grow. Slowly at first, then in a fast jumble.

6:44 am Indigo Hill Big Sit is now in double figures. Field sparrow and saw-whet owl! Take us up to 12.

The saw-whet was a surprise. We'd never had one on the Big Sit before. But this bird was consistently calling a descending wheeeer from the north woods for a couple of hours just before dawn. We took this as a good omen

Jim and Nina at a slow shutter speed..

The fog dulled the power of the day-bringing sun. For nearly an hour we were bathed in a misty blue light.

Still too early to see much, but plenty to listen to. Photo by Julie Z.

Hearing birds, but straining to spot them in the fog made us wish the sun would hurry higher into the sky.


Only the closest trees were discernible. We wondered if the fog helped us by forcing migrant birds lower, or if it hurt us by hiding flyovers we might otherwise see.




Soon the fog began to clear, and we could see both the trees and the birds zipping in and out of them.


Chet Baker came up to the tower, once it warmed up a bit. From there he could see everyone arriving. He wore his letter sweater for warmth but it also made a nice fashion statement.

8:26 am Red-shouldered hawk and redtail. We now have more birds than birders. Current total 45 species!

More folks arrived with the daylight. Our ridge top came out of the fog by about 9:00 am. People arriving at our farm described pea-soup fog in Marietta and along the highway. We had clear skies and birds to watch. The 2009 Indigo Hill Big Sit was about to hit full stride.

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Plum Nice Birding

Today I got a chance to go birding at a world famous spot in Massachusetts: Plum Island. This is the general name referring to the coastal habitats that include Parker River NWR and Joppa Flats, where Massachusetts Audubon has a wonderful new visitors center. My companions on this adventure were several folks from Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, led by editor Lisa White.

After visiting the Joppa Flats center, we stopped at an ocean overlook where we got great side-by-side looks at red-throated and common loons. I was sorry I forgot my digiscoping rig.

Scanning the ocean for gannets, scoters, loons.

Plum Island is a migrant and vagrant trap north of Boston. It gets great birds both because of its great habitat and because so many bird watchers cover the dunes, woods, flats, and marshes so thoroughly.
At this spot we had a mess of sparrows, including song, swamp, white-throated, chipping, and Savannah. We missed the salt-march sharp-tailed sparrow, though. Other feathered highlights: hundreds of yellow-rumpeds, a big female merlin, bald eagle, northern harrier, Cooper's hawk, all three scoters, many northern gannets, and about four billion double-crested cormorants.

That's Taryn, Katrina, Lisa, BT3, Theresa, Tim and Kevin (in front).

It was only a little cold and windy. Still we persevered to a total of 60 species, including a notable uncommon yellow-billed cuckoo.

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More Preparation to Sit

That's our birding tower in the photo above. And that's me taking a newly assembled feeder tree over to the side yard to augment our feeding station. Well-stocked bird feeders can be a huge asset on a Big Sit (oh, that does not sound very good, let me re-phrase). Well-stocked feeders can make your Big Sit more attractive (better?) to birds.

I give up!

The point I'm making is that I spend a lot of time scattering seed and placing feeders and water features with the specific intent of luring an additional species or two into view so we can count them on The Big Sit (which is this coming Sunday, October 11, 2009).

Last Saturday I got a wild hair and decided to devote the entire day to work around the farm. This was a welcome break from my normal work (at Bird Watcher's Digest) which, though fun, seems never ending. Think about it: You finish the November/December issue and it's time to start working on the January/February issue. I am in my 21st year of BWD issue cycles (and I still enjoy it!).

Back to my Big Sit preparation (H). I started by assembling the aforementioned feeder tree and adding some new feeders to it. These are the feeders that can be seen from the giant studio windows where Julie works.

Then I decided to add an additional feeding station cluster on the deck outside the big kitchen window, a vantage point from which all of us can watch the activity. I found a few new, unused feeders in the garage left from a bird store shopping frenzy last September, at Nature Niche in Berkeley Springs, WV. These went up on a set of feeder hooks I cobbled together from spare parts.

Sunflower seed, peanuts, and a songbird blend.

I still wasn't satisfied. Then I remembered the gray birch tree trunk that broke off a few weeks ago. It would make a perfect snag. So I set about preparing the trunk and digging a hole deep enough to support the snag's weight.


Once the snag was in place, carefully adjusted so no bird poop would drop directly into the bird bath, I went inside for a frosty cold refreshment, and to appreciate the results of my work. It's nice to do a job, see the progress and completion, and know that that's it! It's done!

The new feeders outside the kitchen window. The first brave feathered soul to visit them was a female American goldfinch. Since then we've had cardinals, titmice, Carolina chickadees, white-breasted nuthatch, and downy woodpecker as visitors. I suspect this station will be very popular as the season progresses. And I expect these new augmentations to net us at least one additional species for the Big Sit—maybe a pine siskin or a purple finch!

But I'd settle for any new, unexpected species, like this blue-crowned motmot! That would be sweet!

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Big Sit Meat Pile

Every year, in anticipation of the Big Sit, I get all jiggy with my preparations. This involves spreading mixed seed around the weedy edges of the yard, cleaning and filling the feeders, and hauling chairs, coolers, coats, cushions, Cheetos, chips, checklists, and things beginning with other letters, up to the tower where we conduct this annual exercise in birding/loafing.

And then there's the meat pile.

There are many, many packages of meat and meat-like products that go into our various freezers, never to be seen again. They live there in the frosty darkness, ignored by us, meal after meal and I believe these meats begin to grow resentful. This resentment makes them bitter and dried out. Before the seasons all recycle, these bits of food are good for nothing else but the meat pile.

The meat pile is in the middle of our meadow. It is, yes, you guessed it—a pile of freezer-burned and spoiled meat. I place it there hoping to attract our local resident red-shouldered and red-tailed hawks, and perhaps some passing, sniffing turkey vultures. The side benefit is that lots of other animals visit the meat pile. How do I know this? Check out the photos below.
As I set up the meat pile, removing the packaging, Chet Baker is always there in case I needed a hand/paw. Or a taste tester.

I set up a game camera, one equipped with flash and motion detecting lasers. It also works during the day, as the picture of my backside (below) shows.

The turkey vultures found the meat pile last year after just three days of full, hot, meat-rotting sun. Awesome! Yes, we keep Chet Baker away from the meat pile.

While doing the Big Sit last year, I was alone in the tower when a huge pack of coyotes began arguing in the meadow over the rights to dine at the meat pile. I took a photo of my face as the howling and growling was splitting the night air. It was so chilling hearing these sounds that it gave me goose flesh.
Here are a couple of images captured of the coy-dogs. I love how the camera gives the date, time, phase of the moon, and the temperature and barometric pressure, too!
Nice! Look how big this coyote is. Another reason to keep Chet inside!

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Poem for a Friday

O to be on the western range
sitting cross-legged inside
a ring of tepee stones
hearing the echoes
of ancient days
wafting over
the sunset
sage.

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The Song in My Head

This is the front of an actual store in Holt, England. It's a toy store, as you can see from the Thomas the Tank Engine stuff in the window. But the store name and the train imagery instantly put a song into my head for the rest of that August day: "White Room" by Cream.

In the white room with black curtains near the station.
Blackroof country, no gold pavements, tired starlings.

In England, the European starling is a native bird, and one that is declining. So while we may wish starlings ill here in North America, in the U.K. people are worried about losing this highly adaptable species.

Who knows, someone may get a notion to trap a bunch of starlings here for export across the pond? If that happens, I would not be surprised to learn that starlings started showing up at this store in Holt, thinking it was a retail outlet devoted to their species. After all, starlings are quite intelligent—who's to say they can't learn to read?

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