Skip to main content

Backyard Nature Wednesday: Warbler season

For the last couple of weeks, there has been a series of migrating warblers passing through my yard. They don't usually announce themselves. Fall migration is like a silent retreating army, with not a lot of singing like we hear in the spring.

When it comes to the fall warblers, they are mostly an army dressed in olive drab. Gone are the bright colors of spring and summer. These birds are not interested in calling attention to themselves.

For those two reasons - lack of singing and absence of bright colors - the visitors can be easily overlooked as they busily search the leaves for insects, unless one is making a special effort to look for them. But I've been lucky enough to see several of the little birds recently because I have a secret weapon - water.

I have a small fountain in my backyard and it gurgles and splashes with water and that is a magnet to the birds, especially to the warblers. Every one that I have seen recently has been visiting that fountain. And so it was again on Tuesday.

Fall warblers can be hard to identify at times because they are in their drab winter clothes and I really wasn't sure about the one I saw Tuesday. After consulting every guide book I own, I finally decided that it was probably a Nashville Warbler.

It was a tiny bird. I'm not too good at estimating sizes but I saw the bird next to a Ruby-throated Hummingbird, which is about 3 3/4 inches long. This bird was not much bigger - probably about an inch. It had a very short tail and an eye ring but few other distinguishing marks. It was basically olive drab all over with just a hint of yellow on the breast and belly. Fortunately, I did have my camera handy.

Looking the fountain over to decide if it is safe.

Giving me the eye. Can't be too careful!

Trying a sip.

And taking the plunge!

After the bath.
This was a very active little bird. It spent several minutes in and around the fountain and took a dip repeatedly. It had had a long trip, maybe from as far away as Canada and it needed to wash off all the dust from its journey. I was seated twelve to fifteen feet away, but the bird did not seem concerned about my presence so I was able to enjoy a nice, long look.

Comments

  1. Gorgeous pictures Dorothy, what a lovely little bird.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Warblers are really the rock stars of the bird family - wonderful little critters!

      Delete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Poetry Sunday: Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver

How about we share another Mary Oliver poem? After all, you can never have too many of those. In this one, the poet seems to acknowledge that it is often hard to simply live in and enjoy the moment, perhaps because we are afraid it can't last. She urges us to give in to that moment and fully experience the joy. Although "much can never be redeemed, still, life has some possibility left." Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is no...

Poetry Sunday: Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney

My mother was a farm wife and a prodigious canner. She canned fruit and vegetables from the garden, even occasionally meat. But the best thing that she canned, in my opinion, was blackberry jam. Even as I type those words my mouth waters!  Of course, before she could make that jam, somebody had to pick the blackberries. And that somebody was quite often named Dorothy. I think Seamus Heaney might have spent some time among the briars plucking those delicious black fruits as well, so he would have known that "Once off the bush the fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour." They don't keep; you have to get that jam made in a hurry! Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney Late August, given heavy rain and sun For a full week, the blackberries would ripen. At first, just one, a glossy purple clot Among others, red, green, hard as a knot. You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust ...

Poetry Sunday: Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman

You probably remember poet Amanda Gorman from her appearance at the inauguration of President Biden. She read her poem "The Hill We Climb" on that occasion. After the senseless slaughter in Uvalde this week, she was inspired to write another poem which was published in The New York Times. It seemed perfect for the occasion and so I stole it in order to feature it here, just in case you didn't get a chance to read it in the Times . Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman Everything hurts, Our hearts shadowed and strange, Minds made muddied and mute. We carry tragedy, terrifying and true. And yet none of it is new; We knew it as home, As horror, As heritage. Even our children Cannot be children, Cannot be. Everything hurts. It’s a hard time to be alive, And even harder to stay that way. We’re burdened to live out these days, While at the same time, blessed to outlive them. This alarm is how we know We must be altered — That we must differ or die, That we must triumph or try. ...