FINALLY--A Crow, 9:40AM

As many of you know, I've been making a big attempt for months to lure, befriend, or tempt a local American Crow to pause long enough on the Goodie Stump for me to get a good at her. Note that she's placed her foot on the portion of raw poultry in a possessive manner while making eye contact with me.


One of the things I wanted to see was the Crow's eyes. They blend so well with their plumage that it's nearly impossible to see their eyes, or where they are actually focusing, unless the sun causes a gleam. As I suspected the iris is a near perfect match to plumage. Attention to other's eyes is not only important to Red-tailed hawks as we've discovered in Central Park watching Pale Male and Company, but I've now begun to see that it's extremely important in cuing behavior for many of the bird species I'm watching.

I expected her to take off at eye contact but then realized that her sentinel partner in the Maple near the house hasn't made the five part time-to-bug-out caw signal perhaps that is significant in her staying put. The snow cover is complete. And the temperatures have been significantly low so hunger may also being playing a part in her willingness to put up with me watching her.

She checks in again.

While waiting for a Crow to let me watch her for a few minutes, I began reading up on them and their relatives. Due to some new science it's now thought that Crows and Jays started out with a common crow-like ancestor in the area of what is now Australia and then radiated throughout the world.

Corvids have strong and more than usually dexterous feet. And most of them, have scales on the front of their legs and feet but not on the back. Why? No one seems to figured that one out yet.

When it comes to intelligence Corvids are near the top of the avian pile. Some put forward the thought that Ravens are even more intelligent than top level parrots.

She eats some more and then seems to be eyeing the squirrels that are scampering around the yard.

Then she looks toward the camera again.

Check out her beak. American Crows have the archetypal Corvid beak, thick, strong, and slightly curved. And also like most of the other Corvids, Crows have bristly feathers over their nostrils. If the feathers over Downy Woodpecker cere are to keep the sawdust out, why do Crows have a similar adaptation? It's not a sawdust problem. They're so private that don't even want anyone to see their nostrils? Unlikely, I suppose. Any ideas?

(I can't believe she's stayed this long.)

(Famous last thought. ) A squirrel leaps up on the stump aggressively and the crow takes to the air accompanied by the five part danger caw of the sentinel Crow who's off the Maple and heading north. The squirrel leaps off. (Notice this is one of the visually challenged squirrels, though the left eye is now at least partially open.)

Then a second squirrel immediately leaps on, checks the stump for squirrel eatables, and finding none, leaps off.

The squirrels and Crows have a habit of leaping at each other, in I'm assuming an attempt to startle, and scare the other off. So far I've seen no true physical contact. One of the phrases used over and over for Crows beyond "gregarious and noisy" is "cautiously aggressive". Well they aren't foolhardy, now are they? But sometimes I get the feeling that the Crows get an almost practical joke kind of pleasure in the "gotcha".

Donegal Browne

Winter Woodpeckers

The male Downy stops in for some suet. This territory has both a male and a female. Downy Woodpeckers will join mixed flocks of foraging birds and travel around with them, then drop out as the edge of their territory is reached. They will also sometimes cache food beneath bark.

Ever wonder why they're called Downy Woodpeckers? Look at how fluffy his tummy is.
(But then does a Hairy Woodpecker have a hairy look to his belly feathers?)

Did you ever notice that you can't see a Downy Woodpeckers nostrils? They're feather covered. The common wisdom is that the feathers are there to keep the Woodpecker from getting sawdust up his nose. Handy adaptation that.

Earlier the Red-bellied Woodpecker had stopped by the suet, pecked vigorously, then he grabbed a glob in his beak and took off to cache it. Caching food is a regular part of this species winter survival tactics. Some Woodpeckers will also cache nuts. But typically cachers all except the Acorn Woodpecker, peel the hull off, break the nutmeat on a hard surface and then store the bits under bark .

The Acorn Woodpecker on the other hand drills an acorn sized hole in trees, wooden electrical poles, light poles, posts, stumps, you name it, and then jams the acorn into it. If you see a cache there will be row upon row of holes. They're called granaries. This you might suspect leads to many battles with squirrels who attempt to steal the nuts. But the Acorn Woodpecker has an adaptation to help guard against that. Acorn Woodpeckers live in groups and communally store and defend their granaries. Granaries can be huge and examples have been found that have hundreds of thousands of acorns stored in them.

Speaking of the Red-bellied Woodpecker, here he is earlier in the season. Be patient that picture is here for a reason.

The other day someone asked if Woodpeckers ate seed? The answer is that Woodpeckers are primarily insectivores but depending on the species they also have been known to have the occasional seed, nut, or even fruit. Though I had to admit, that though suet has seed and I've seen them at the suet feeder, I'd never seen one frequent the seed only feeders. But that was before today.


Today I looked out and there was the Red-belly gobbling away at the cylinder feeder. My apologies for the photo quality. I just grabbed the point and shoot and clicked. This guy is fast and its the only shot I got off before he whisked away.


Can you find his tail? Look at his belly in the photo where he's at the bird bath. Now look at his belly at the feeder. That skinny little perch doesn't seem to be very convenient for him. Is his tail hanging straight down? Or does he have it tucked up like a hinge using it for balance on the perch? Perhaps it is straight down after all but obscured by the backdrop of the dried sunflower stem.

Donegal Browne

Feeding Up Before the Storm, and What's That Hawk Doing in the Parking Lot?

The House Sparrows spent time at the cylinder feeder today. Something that isn't usual.

Then for the very first time, a Dark-eyed Junco, they are inveterate ground feeders, flew up and began eating out of one of the feeders. The two hens of different species ate quite awhile on opposite perches. The Finch looks almost chatty while the Junco hen looks a little nervous. Whatever the case they were both eating as fast as their beaks could go.

It became clear towards the end of daylight that with the severe cold last night and more snow expected that the birds were breaking all kinds of barriers. Not only were the invisible boundaries of the individual feeders ignored but today near sunset there were more than 20 Mourning Doves in the feeding area. Forget territory today. We must eat voraciously to survive so all bets are off.

The Tree Sparrow is back, on the left in the line of Juncos. The male Downy, the Red-belly, and the Red-breasted Nuthatch all made appearances at the suet. Oh, another place a Junco appeared where one never had before. The Suet.

AND NOW THE BIG BIRD IN THE PARKING LOT--

It was 11 below zero last night. Having had a second snowstorm on the first's heels, a third storm is on the way. The citizens of Wisconsin shoveled out, and motivated by yet more snow to come, they put on their boots and trooped to the grocery store in droves.

It isn't as if the cupboard is bare. Oh no, not here. There's hardly a household that hasn't at least one freezer and an extra fridge in the basement, with a side of beef or pound after pound of venison and turkey sausage waiting frostily for consumption. Cellar shelves sag under bright shiny quarts of summer's bounty, row after row of stewed tomatoes, sauerkraut, green beans, watermelon pickles, pears, peaches, cherries, beets and succotash. Burlap sacks full of walnuts, pecans and hickory nuts hide in out of the way closets. But you never know, and to be without the staples of milk, bread, eggs, potato chips, jello, and Mountain Dew--things could be, well, uncomfortable. And who needs that?

Therefore, when I pulled into the Woodman's parking lot in Janesville, parking spaces were at a premium. I opened the truck door, stepped out and--Holey Moley! There's a Cooper's Hawk zooming three feet off the ground through the very busy parking lot then curving up and perching stock still in a small tree growing in the median between parking rows. I look around excited with the urge to smile at others who've seen it too. But not another soul has noticed.

It's a very weird feeling and just feels wrong. How do people not see a hawk, we're not talking sparrows here, we're talking about a reasonably big bird that swooshes by just two feet from their waists? I've had the feeling before and the strangeness doesn't lessen with repeats.

On one of my initial trips to Central Park to watch Pale Male and Lola, I watched Lola flying down the path from the Boat House toward the Model Boat Pond, once again just three feet off the ground. (It must be stealth level.) And also on the same path, her ears plugged into some kind of musical device, walked a young woman. Still at waist level, Lola swerved past her, I was surprised the walker wasn't grazed by a wing tip, then Lola continued down the same path. The woman never noticed. All I've ever been able to figure out is that if people don't expect to see something, they don't.

So feeling a little disappointed at not being able to commune with other shoppers, I walked toward the Hawk in the tree. Her back was turned so I figured I might get close enough to get a good look. So far so good, then she turns, I keep looking, then have to look down to step up a drift. And once you look away, Whoosh, again at elbow height she's off , a Starling flushes from the tree in front of the Big Bagel shop. She doesn't pursue. She curves up once again, lands, again does the "I'm invisible" perch. Not one human glanced her way this time either.

Hawk may have avoided human interest but then I hear Crows. There are three and they've seen the hawk and are spreading the news. Several small flocks of sparrows use the crow cover to flee in a rush in our direction and away from the Cooper's.

The Crows choose two parking lot light poles near the gas station and a high drift in front of the Lighthouse Bookstore to scream in the hawk's direction, when I look again she is gone.

No one looked at the Crows either and they weren't in stealth mode. There's a skirmish going in a war between species nations that's been going on for thousands of years. Now most of us, being hawk watchers are geared to see hawks. We've found them things of wonder and we've trained ourselves.

Just think, perhaps-- on second thought not perhaps, but likely, there are any number of things, things of wonder we've missed because we never noticed them enough to train ourselves to look.

I won't stop looking for hawks, that's now so automatic I couldn't stop if I wanted, and I do notice other things of wonder tangentially, but today I began to wonder what I might be missing. What passes by me in the way a Cooper's Hawk in the grocery store parking lot passes by dozens of other people without so much as a glimmer?

What are the things I don't expect to see, so I don't ?

How about you?

Donegal Browne