Pileated Woodpecker

Pileated Woodpecker

Dryocopus pileatus

I did not think that I would get a chance to photograph this great and beautiful animal in my lifetime.  It is the largest woodpecker to be found in North America, unless of course the Ivory-billed has not yet gone extinct, which is probable.  Surely the Pileated Woodpecker is not the most rare bird on the planet, but it is incredibly shy and it is not that entirely common, at least in my neck of the woods. I have seen it a couple of times, at a distance, at Protection Farm. Twice I have seen a solitary individual flying across the far end of the meadow, two or three hundred yards out.  Five or six times I have heard it calling somewhere deep in the woods. Each of these times brings excitement to my heart. 

I am well steeped in the lore of the Ivory-billed Woodpecker and wish I had a chance to see one of those before it allegedly became extinct. There is still some hope that they are surviving somewhere in the deep swamps of the south, or in Cuba, but it is a distant hope, and many of my friends refer to the Ivory-billed as the “ghost woodpecker.” Because of the general decline of birds, and because of the extraordinary rarity of my own sightings, I have come to also refer to the Pileated as a “ghost” bird. 

Not so much today.  I have had an awesome and outstanding encounter and I had my camera with me.

In the past, I have had a couple of close encounters, one of which is described below. And I have never had an encounter in which I had a functional camera. Last Sunday, that all changed.

Sunday March 20, 2011, was the vernal equinox, the first day of spring.  It also happened to coincide with what was called the “Super Moon.”

http://science.nasa.gov/science-news/science-at-nasa/2011/16mar_supermoon/

This full moon was according to NASA, the closest to the earth in 20 years and they happen rarely.

For about two weeks, spring has been onrushing. At least the days have gotten noticeably longer after a long dark, dank, and cold winter season.  The birds have changed and in the last few days the dawn songs are different. The marsh has become home to over a hundred different birds. We have seen hooded-mergansers, common mergansers, wood ducks, black ducks, buffleheads, lots of mallards and we have had a population of about 20 Canada geese that have been talking it up with the mallards all night long in the marsh for about a week.

The temperatures have been hovering between 25-40 degrees F. Most days have been overcast. About two weeks ago I was up at dawn on what would prove to be a sunny but cold day. I was in my office and went out to my living room where there is a big picture window overlooking the yard. I noticed something moving on the big white pine tree trunk about 20 yards out.  It also noticed me. It was a Pileated and it flew away immediately. That was a real exciting moment.  I hoped it would come back, but it didn’t. Later that morning and for several days after I went out to the tree and noticed that there had been some activity as the bird had obviously been visiting the tree, and pecking a hole. Not much, but a couple of times I noticed new activity. I hoped.  But I did not see the bird again. Until Sunday.

I am up early, it is still dark. I wanted to photograph the supermoon, but it was too overcast. I went to my desk and starting working on the computer. As dawn gradually emerged and the room became slightly lighter, there was a loud thunderous roar outside my window. It was the Pileated calling. The sound literally shook the room and vibrated me to my core. I couldn’t believe what I had heard.  I grabbed my camera and changed to a long lens, hoping that the bird would go to the white pine and resume work. I snuck down the still dark hallway, brought the camera to eye level and very cautiously peaked around the edge of the window, which was still across the room from where I stood.  Slowly I moved toward a view. I inched the camera forward until I could see the edge of the tree, and there staring at me, in my dark hiding place was a huge woodpecker.  I was not near enough the window to get a perfect shot, but I took a shot, and the Pileated moved rapidly around the tree and disappeared. I could not believe that it saw me. But it did.  

a little more of a pushed view

I moved to the couch, and set up low, fairly hidden from the outdoors world. I put the camera on the back of the couch, crouched down and waited. And waited. I thought the bird might be behind the tree and might come back. But it didn’t. I waited almost 20 minutes before I finally gave up.  By now the sun had broken through the clouds and I got dressed and went out to the tree and there was no bird anywhere to be seen.

I decided to head down to the marsh where there was quite an uproar going on between the Canada Geese and the Mallards, at least.  I could hear the occasional wood duck.

If you know my farm, the path to the marsh is about half a mile from my front door and you have to go by the barn to get to it. Usually it is difficult to sneak up on any waterfowl in the marsh because the last 30 or so yards is down a slippery steep and very exposed hillside path. They see you coming and the guard birds let the others know as soon as they notice anyone, and usually, especially at this time of the year they are all off before you can get close. Sometimes you can set up  in a camouflaged or hidden position and if you are patient, they all come back.

Today, the marsh is very flooded and in fact a large pond has been created that covers much of he lowlands from the hill behind the house all the way down past the hill by the barn and into the marsh. As I went from behind the house to the yard between the barn and the house, all of the Canada Geese and the mallards instantly shut up. I knew that they had seen me.  By the time I had gotten to the barn, two crows had flown over me and cawed loudly. This alert set the marsh on fire and the Geese began alert calls and before I got half way to the marsh trail, the entire marsh had emptied of waterfowl. 

Just as I passed the barn I heard two bluebirds. They flew over me, close to me, and perched on the fence line near where the nest boxes are. I have been seeing and hearing bluebirds for the better part of three weeks, but this is the closest encounter so far this late winter early spring. I stopped and watched for a few moments, and took a few photos. They moved toward one of he nest boxes and the female actually checked it out.  These are possibly the same family that has been nesting here for the last few years.  In any case it was a friendly and extremely pleasant encounter. So far the first day of spring was spectacular.

I worked my way down to the now quiet marsh. I stood near the edge and saw nothing. And then a couple of mallards hopped out from some of the underbrush across the way and swam up stream and away from me, quaking like crazy. A flight of woodies came in, circled just above, saw me and flew away rapidly.  Next came a flight of mallards. One of them looked different. I snapped a photo. They saw me and moved on.

I sat down and the sun gradually warmed the marsh and me. I edged in closer under some scrub branches hoping I could disappear, but virtually every bird that came into the scene in the next half hour- chickadee’s, blue jays, robins, crows, red-wings, junco’s all spotted me immediately. Some came over for a closer look, but most just flew through.  I was about to give up and go back inside and have some breakfast. By this point I had pushed myself back into the leafless branches of the sumac and osier that bordered the marsh. And I heard it. The Pileated was calling and it was flying in from near my house. Maybe it had been up there all along, hiding in the trees by the white pine?

It flew in and landed on a tall dead single trunk, about 100 yards across the marsh.  I looked at it for a few seconds trying to decide if I should try to get a photo, or just stay still and watch.  It was a long way away, and as yet it hadn’t seen me. I have a 250 mm lens. I decided to take a picture.  As I slowly raised the camera it saw me. Snap. Snap. It flew. Snap. And it was gone. Wowowowo!

Looking right at me!

Pileateds are very shy and usually solitary birds. They each have a fairly large territory and are in decline because of deforestation. They are huge birds with enormously long tongues.

Description

http://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Pileated_Woodpecker/id

Life History

http://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Pileated_Woodpecker/lifehistory

Listen

http://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Pileated_Woodpecker/sounds

Long Ago, another encounter!

The supermoons happen as rarely it seems as my having a close encounter with a Pleated.  Coincidentally the previous close encounter with a pileated happened in 1983, a year when there was also a Supermoon.

That year Jonna and I were living at Hobbit Hollow, in a rustic cabin on a rustic lake in Java N.Y. Our first child, Jajean who was born in April.  For the few years that we lived there we had fantastic outdoor adventures. Jajean was a wide-eyed naturalist from the beginning. We would take long hikes, or ski’s in the several hundred acres of woodland, meadow and wetlands that surrounded us. Jajean would ride in a backpack on my back, or in some other combination in my or his mothers loving arms.  In the winter I made a kind of sled where he could sit inside comfortably and warm. We were outdoors constantly day and night, seeing, listening, smelling and feeling. Wildlife was abundant and friendly. A family of wild Canada Geese that lived on our pond treated us as if we were part of their family. The would follow us in the canoes, swim with us, and we helped the young ones learn to fly by running along our long dock and jumping into the water. They would follow and leap into the air, eventually learning to fly. They would even sit around the campfires with us and chatter endlessly. I am quite sure that the young geese felt that Jajean was one of them.

Late in the summer, one morning I looked out our bedroom window. Just 20 feet away was a large Norway Spruce with a thick dark trunk that rose about 40 feet above our heads.  There on the trunk at eye level was not one Pileated, but four. Two adults, and two young. They were moving along and around the trunk, poking at crevices and crannies.  I awoke Jonna and Jajean and we sat for about an hour watching. They did not see us and it was just an astounding time. Jajean stared and occasionally cooed, or giggled.  Over the next few weeks we saw them once or twice again, but never so intimately.

Baby Jajean on my hand made sled

Coming soon, more photos from Hobbit Hollow

Blue Jay

Cyanocitta cristata 

My earliest inclination to pay attention to Blue-Jays, probably had something to do with the fact that both the birds and myself were referred to as “Jay”.  My earliest instincts toward curiosity were immensely stimulated.  This probably started within a few days or weeks of my birth. My family had an place on Newfound Lake in NH and we spent an enormous amount of time there until I was much older. As I near my 60^th birthday, this lifelong relationship with this species, continues unabated. 

Jays, like over half of all bird species, are passerine.  Passerines are sometimes referred to as “perching birds” or “songbirds”. They form one of the most diverse vertebrate orders.  For example, they have twice as many species as the largest mammal order, Rodentia. Blue Jays are of the family Corvidae, also referred to as the “crow family”. Other members of this family include crows, ravens, magpies, and nutcrackers. 

The Blue Jay (Cyanocitta cristata) is part of group known as “American Jays” or “New World Jay’s”. American Jays include a variety of scrub jays and magpies, including Stellar’s Jay (Cyanocitta stelleri):  the Florida Scrub Jay (Aphelocoma coerulescens); the Pinyon Jay (Gymnorhinus cyanocephalus); the White-throated Magpie-Jay, (Calocitta Formosa); and the Black-billed Magpie (Pica hudsonia).

Corvids are very intelligent birds. This is true of the Blue Jay. They display complex emotions, relationships, and behavior that reveal a very sophisticated species.  The have very tight family units.  They have a remarkable language that uses succinct nuanced vocalizations, expansive posturing, and distinct social relationships. The Blue Jay, like other corvids is a very social species. The socialize with their own species, and with other species including humans. The vocalizations alone, well documented, help to characterize these relationships. These birds are characterized for instance by their raucous and sometimes festive gatherings. They are known for  their loud warning calls that alert all about to the presence of predators such as hawks or human hunters.  They are known for their persistent scolding if things are not going the way they think they should be going. They have often expressed pointed opinions toward me about my activities relative to feeder stations, and other activity that they wish to comment on.  Sometimes when I get too near to a more or less avian-specific gathering, or a nest, and often when I am just innocently walking a trail or across a meadow they endeavor to express an opinion. Often they are just letting others know that I am in the territory. Sometimes they alert me to the presence of others.

Hear Blue-Jay vocalizations here: http://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Blue_Jay/sounds

What is commonly referred to as the Jays warning call, the loud “Jay, Jay, Jay” is a distinctive and important vocalization.  Jays will use this call when they are engaged in mobbing of a crow, or bird of prey. Crows, in the same bird family will use these calls for the same purpose.  I have often noted that they will also use it when passing above a creature including deer, fox, and humans, walking in the woods or in the fields. This “marking” behavior plays a role in alerting other animals of the presence of a potential intruder. I know that and when I am out and about, especially in more wilderness areas, I pay attention. I have friends that swear that Blue Jays will find wandering feeral cats and follow them and make this call sound. My grandfather used to tell me that the Jays were marking my presence for other animals. He also taught me that if we listened to the Jays and crows we could find other animals, mobbed hawks or owls, and sometimes deer.

Other Jays songs and calls are very familiar. There is the sound resembling the liquid gurgle of the swinging gate. This is a beautiful and surreal, melodious, and soft.  I am not sure exactly how the bird uses this song but sometimes it there is a response with the same vocalization from other Jays. I think it indicates tenderness and relationships. Perhaps this helps them keep track of each other. They also have a number of other calls and songs, some quite sweet and gentle, some startling and harsh.  Breeding and fledging season bring out a whole new world of vocalizations. 

Jays also like to imitate and mimic other birds. This includes from my personal observation, catbirds, cardinals, and hawks. It’s a close call on the catbird mimic but sometimes it seems like they are actually imitating a real cat. Catbirds themselves are mimicers, so this language gets very complicated. I have spent considerable time talking with Blue-Jays. If I get lucky I can make vocalizations and a Blue-Jay or two will stare listen or at least appear to stare at me curiously. Once in a while they will tilt their heads as if a sound that I made is very interesting.  Occassionally a Jay will talk back to me. Usually this happens when they are about to depart. I have noticed that they will sometimes emit a little gurgle and fly off.  I am not an expert but I like to shout “see ya later”. They are probably saying, “Not if I see you first”.

Blue-Jays are classified as “omnivores” and will eat other animals including mice, frogs, other birds and eggs, caterpillars, grasshoppers, and beetles as well as fruits, seeds, and nuts. They are subject to the predation of hawks, and crows.  Blue Jay eggs and young are especially vulnerable. The Blue Jay has been observed using tools such as sticks to get food. It can live for a relatively long time. Blue Jays studied in the wild have been identified at 17 or more years old. One captive female is reported to have lived 27 years.  Research suggests that the average life span of a Blue Jay is 7 years. Both sexes are capable of mating at one year.

Blue jays are thought to be monogamous with pairs bonding for life. Some of their behavior includes bobbing motions when in courtship and when being aggressive.. It is thought that submission is signaled by fluffing up of feathers, and raising the crest. 

Their range covers much of central and eastern Canada and the United States from the north to Florida and Texas. They are more frequently seen on the northern west coast and have become common in the San Francisco area. Jays can migrate in large flocks  hundreds of miles, depending on conditions such as weather and food supply. They are very adaptable and their habitats are diverse and wide ranging.

It is thought that during the end of the last glacial epoch, about 12,000 years ago in the Niagara Region when the ice was receding, Blue-Jays were primarily responsible for spreading the seeds of the Oak and Beech forests, thus helping the hardwood forest expand as the climate warmed. They have long been a part of our native ecology.

At Protection Farm we see Blue Jays year round.

Depending precisely on seasons and weather conditions, we often see them gathered in noisy flocks of varying sizes.   They roost in woodlands and love pines and other evergreens for cover. They enjoy many habitats for access to food ranging from nuts and seeds to insects and other small animals.

They come to our feeders often commanding the scene with a precise and determined presence that seems to tell the other creatures present that disorder will not be tolerated.

More than once I have observed some sort of terrible squabble going on at the feeders. Have no doubt that when the critters get riled up they can put up an attention-getting ruckus that attracts all sorts of eyes and ears, including predators that are anxious to take advantage.  Sometimes it starts with Red Squirrels complaining and fighting. Chickadees, juncos, and cardinals join the fray.  Nuthatches and woodpeckers will come in and observe.  It all comes to order when the Blue jays, sometimes a pair, sometimes more, come screaming in, take up posts and aggressively challenge the gathered mob to either quiet down or disperse. This almost always works, except when there are crows present. In the pecking order, even solitary crows often seem to be slightly above the Jays.  (of course it is not abnormal to see a flock of jays mobbing a crow)

Their behavior jumps quite to the other extreme when it comes time to cross open territory such as fields and meadows.

This past month of January I have been outside nearly every day. Toward the late afternoon and evening I have observed over our Protection Farm fields, Jays moving in flocks. It seems that they are keenly aware of my presence. Scouts see me, mark me and move on to an appropriate post. The word of my presence travels fast. I am not sure how far it travels.

The sizes of the flocks varies.  Sometimes four or five, sometimes a dozen or more.  When they come to the edge of the fields what already seems like serious business seems to have an organized uptick.

The birds settle.  Scouts appear to check out the crossing. There are vocalizations of “Jaay”,  or “Jay, Jay” that seem to be pointed. There are calls, and often responses.  The voices seem distinct, inflections and nuances are clear, but it is generally this alerting “Jay” call that dominates the air.

It is easy to think that they are signaling their locations to the other Jays. There often seems to be a call and response going on.  And then, suddenly,  one by one they become solitary silent rockets flying low and straight over the open ground crossing from one side cover to another.

There are many individual flocks that are crossing and it is easy to speculate there is a lot of familiarity amongst individuals and the flocks and groups. These probably are family groups, and probably related groups that have been flocking together through the winter, the seasons, and possibly even the years.

There may even be a few trusted scouts and leaders that are recognized by the other birds that are on duty. Maybe they move on and others take there place.  

It appears clear that there is an avian culture that seems to have complex activities and behaviors, can act very disciplined, or outrageously unruly. They appear to act cooperatively with other Blue Jays and Blue Jay groups

Recently at Protection Farm, we had a midwinter warm up.  The great snows of earlier in the winter have all but disappeared with only a few patches of the white stuff lingering in the big plowed piles and in the occasional low spots.  The marsh is flooded like I have never seen it.  This is both due to the melt and to the, I am sure, work of the beavers that built there over the late summer.  It is magnificent.

One day last winter Jonna and i were in the house with the kitchen door open just a little bit (it was almost 50 degrees). We heard a very distinct hawk like call very close by.. And then again.   It sounded like a red tail but how could one be so close? The call shook the house. Would a Red-tail perch on the porch and make the call?  The sound was coming from just outside the kitchen door and we slowly peeked our heads around half-expecting to see one. There on the porch rail instead was a big Blue Jay.  It was puffing its neck feathers, fluffing and erecting its crest and opening wide its beak as it let go a magnificent series of slow   “phzzzzzeeer, phzzzeeeer pzzzzeeeer”  Even as I was watching this Jay make this display, I still wanted to look toward the sky and see if a hawk was circling and assuming the Jay was issuing a warning.

As we looked around the yard from our vantage, there were no other visible birds anywhere around the usually busy feeder.  We guessed the Jay had done a good job of warning its kin and the others usually vulnerable and open at this feeder station.

Then the Jay hopped up to the bird feeder and began hastily feasting on sunflower seeds.

After  a few seconds and still thinking that there must be a Coopers circling somewhere nearby I decided to get a closer look. I moved toward the open door and the Jay saw me. It flew off. In made a beeline for the tree line. It landed visibly in brush just near the pathway leading down to the old cabin.  I went out on the porch to get a closer look.  As I reached the porch, the jay issued forth a loud wet squeaky gate call.  Just one quick call. And then from beneath me, from beneath the cover of the and bushy and old flowers along the now snowless walkway and from under the porch, erupted a whole lot of birds.

Several dozen birds. At least -four cardinals, a bunch of chickadees and juncos and several tree sparrows. They, just seconds before hidden, all scrambled for the safety of the nearby woods.

I continued to search the sky and the tree line for what I still thought might be a hawk. Guess what? No hawk.  I am convinced that the Jay scattered the other birds away from the feeder with its imitating hawk call, and then took advantage of a more peaceful meal. Until that is I cam out to upset its meal plan.

About a half an hour later there are about 50 birds on the front and back feeders, which is a fairly common convocation of the avian population around here.

There are of course ongoing great cultural, scientific, and ornithological arguments as to what all of the activities, sounds, and the socializations mean. It is a beautiful time to be alive as dedicated scientists engage in the discovery of the meanings of these things.  Someday we may have a better understanding of how these precious animals think and why they do what they do.  No only which sounds are warnings, love songs, which sounds relate to finding food, and which are just social chit chats may lead us to a better understanding of how these animals think, and, what they think.  These are all extraordinary possibilities, discoveries as we humans get serious about learning language. Many cultures have long known and practiced listening to nature. It is important that we all realize that animals like the remarkable Blue-jay these talk, and it is high time that more people learn that they talk to us.