Tree Sparrows are Back!

The big storm that blew through earlier this week set a new record - the strongest non-coastal Low pressure system in the Continental US (CONUS).  The city of Bigfork, Minnesota recorded a barometric pressure of 28.20 inches or 955 MB, a reading normally associated with category III hurricanes (115 mph winds). 

About 250 miles south of Big Fork, here in the Chippewa River Valley, the front brought high winds and rain, but no floods and no tornadoes.  The wind knocked down some trees and whipped the leaves around.  And it brought the first Tree Sparrows I've seen this fall.

They were everywhere in the bushes along the Chippewa River State Trail today, hanging out with the chickadees and juncos.

American Tree Sparrow - Christmas Bird Count data                     

These little brown birds are complete migrants, their breeding and wintering grounds do not overlap.  They breed in the tundra and winter further primarily in the lower 48 states.

Despite its name, this sparrow nests on the ground in the sub-arctic, a region that's not known for trees.  They're attracted by the availability of insect protein up north - and in the winter, they switch over to seeds.  Fill a plastic tray with white proso millet, and they'll come to your backyard to feed along with the juncos and White-throated Sparrows.

So how'd it get the "tree" moniker?   European settlers called it a "tree" sparrow because it reminded them of their rusty orange-capped Eurasian Tree Sparrow.

Look for their white wing bars, the back stick pin in their chest and their yellow mandible.

A Murder of Crows

I "pish" when I walk in the woods.  The sibilance captures the attention of birds drawing them out of their hiding places.  At least that's I think when I'm doing it.

I was impatient this sunny afternoon.  The only birds I'd seen or heard on my walk were chickadees bouncing like ping-pong balls, from seed-laden ragweed stalks to leafless Box Elder trees.   A small flock of Purple Finches seemed to follow them.

I was distracted by the noise of more than 100 crows sitting in the recently harvested corn field between the Chippewa River State Trail and the river.  I stopped to watch.  What were they doing?

The noise made me think:  Great-horned Owl.  Was this a mass "mobbing?"

No, I didn't see an owl, or a Red-tailed Hawk, another popular target of mobbing crows.

Could it be something to do with the corn?   Perhaps one of the wagons used during the harvest tipped and spilled.  The longer I watched the crows, the more I realized that wasn't it.

What changed my mind was the arrival of several Bald Eagles soaring overhead.  I watched as the eagles circled the field and strafed the noisy "murder" of crows, dispersing them to the tree line at the edge of the field.  Then the eagles landed in the middle of whatever it was that attracted them all and bent over to feed.   It had to be animal remains - the only food interest both species share.   Then I remembered, it's bow season.  Maybe this is where a hunter field dressed his deer.

Swamp Sparrow

As I headed back to my car, absent-mindedly "pishing" as I walked, I stopped to look at a spring-fed marsh.  All of a sudden, a sparrow popped-up and landed on the barbed wire that separates the marsh from the trail.  The little brown bird cocked its tail, puffed itself up, and then, like a jack-in-the-box, dropped back down, disappearing in the cattails.  A Swamp Sparrow.

According to the Atlas of the Breeding Birds of Wisconsin, this sparrow is common throughout the Badger State, and while most migrate in September and October, some spend the winter here.

Another reason for me to keep pishing when I walk by the marsh.

Vesper Sparrow

I got up early this morning to check out the migrants on the other side of the Lower Chippewa River - over by Silver Birch County Park.

Several birds were sitting on the wires, not all of them Eastern Bluebirds.  Several were sparrows.  But which species?

As I slowed down and pulled my stealth Prius to the side of the road, the little brown birds flew off and disappeared in the field on the west side of Silver Birch Road.  All I could see was a flash of their outer tail feathers, not enough to identify them.

Enough, however, to make me curious.   I turned off the car and waited to see if they'd pop back up.

Sure enough, they did.  I got a great look at this sparrow with the white eye ring and rufous shoulder (hidden in this photo) - a Vesper Sparrow.

I'd seen them only once before - on this same road, two years ago.

Known for singing at dusk (thus the name "vesper"), this seed-eater was singing up a storm.  It was a pleasure to watch him and hear his song.   Here's an interesting piece of trivia:  a group of Vesper Sparrows is known as a "congregation" or a "liturgy."  

I admire the tenacity of these grassland birds.  Every time I see one, I wish I'd been born a hundred years ago.   I can only imagine the sound of a "congregation" of Vesper Sparrows in a wild prairie.

It's amazing to think that the Lower Chippewa River basin contains 25% of the remaining prairie remnants in all of Wisconsin.

When I look at this map, I marvel that this Vesper Sparrow can find enough grassland habitat to support his family.

A Sparrow and a Comma

Another 60º day and another FOY (first-of-the-year) bird and butterfly.

I was sitting in the Prius with Tom, listening to Sandhill Cranes bugling in the corn fields along the Lower Chippewa River at Meridean.  I heard a familiar song that I hadn't heard in months.  I had to pause.

Who was it?  Click on this link to listen.

I had to pull out my iPod and connect it to my Prius audio system so I could confirm it by listening to the song on my BirdJam playlist.

While I was listening to my iPod through the car radio, this little Song Sparrow flew right over and perched on the barbed wire fence across from me.  He stared at my car and seemed puzzled by the very loud Song Sparrow song emanating from it.

I'd forgotten how much fun it was to drive the stealth Prius with the windows down.  It is the best vehicle for watching, listening to and photographing birds (butterflies and other wildlife).  When I put my foot on the brake, the engine shuts off.  No noise.  No shake.  

Despite all the hoopla about the brakes, today's wildlife expedition was a reminder of why I bought a Prius.  I drove 42 miles and I got 67 MPG.  What a great car!

I had to laugh at my experiences with butterflies and moths today.  I'd see one and stop;  put the Prius in "park;" then hop out.  The minute I got out of the car, the butterflies would fly off.  

However, if I stayed in the car, they ignored me.

 

I wasn't sure at first what this species was.  When I got home and processed my photos, I saw the distinctive "comma" on the under-wing:  an Eastern Comma.

 

I spotted an infant moth, an eastern comma and several mourning cloaks.

The Eastern Comma and the Mourning Cloak both over-winter as adults by hibernating.  Although they may also migrate, the Mourning Cloaks are known for their roaming.  Both are often seen out on warm days in late winter and early spring.  

The overwintering Comma adults will fly and lay eggs in the spring until April.   The larval food plants are wood nettles, false nettles, hops and American elm.  The adults feed on rotting fruit and tree sap.   Look for both feeding at sapsucker holes in March.

Adult Mourning Cloaks prefer tree sap - especially oaks - and they feed like a nuthatch - head down on tree trunks.  

Their larval plants are willows, American elm, hackberry, paper birch, cottonwood and aspen.  Adults will encircle twigs with eggs.  Mourning Cloak caterpillars hatch and share a communal web, feeding on young leaves.