Sisyphus with a pair of shears

a robin's nest

I haven't been blogging as much as I'd like lately. There are a few reasons for this, and one of them is the state of my back yard. Those of you who have been dropping by for a while might recall how excited I was when Greenturtle and I first bought our house two years ago. Finally, after dreaming for years about the lovely, bird-friendly garden I wanted to create, at last I had my chance! Sure, as it was, the yard was pretty neglected, and it was full of bamboo--which I did not want--but I figured I'd just roll up my sleeves and get to work and soon have it all set to right.

two years ago...the bamboo jungle

Soon I learned of my naivete. In the proper environment (such as China, where it belongs), bamboo is doubtless a wonderful thing. In a small backyard in central Illinois, it is the spawn of Satan. You think I jest? Alas, no.

For those who were not reading during my summary of the Bamboo Wars, let me recap. There are two main types of bamboo available for landscaping: clumping and running bamboo. Both types of bamboo are actually a grass, and, in a bizarre space-alien sort of way, the entire grove is actually one single organism, which spreads by means of underground rhizomes.

The difference between the two types is the force of their invasiveness. Clumping bamboo spreads relatively slowly, giving one time to prune it back before it takes over your entire town. Running bamboo, on the other hand, can spread up to twenty feet in one year. It sends out underground runners far and wide, tangling up your yard underground as well as where you can see it, and absolutely ruining any other sort of plantings or landscaping you had in mind. And my bamboo? Well, it runs. And it runs fast. (If you would like to read my whole Bamboo Diatribe, check out the guest post I did for Beautiful Wildlife Gardens.)

So for the past couple of years, I've been cutting the bamboo down, and it's been growing back. And I've cut it down, and it's grown back. I can't even dig in one part of the yard because the underground runners are so prevalent, criss-crossing beneath the earth and completely impervious to my shovel. (We can use shears to cut it, then pull out a few inches, then cut again, but that's painstaking labor, and takes forever.)

Despite these tales of woe, I still know a couple of people who say they'd love to have some of my bamboo...for the privacy. That's like saying you want to try crystal meth for a bit of afternoon energy. Bad idea!! Friends, don't let friends plant bamboo!

Because of the futility of this labor, I've been rather silent on the bamboo issue for a while. But now we're ready to get serious. This time, it's full out war. We're going to rent a backhoe, and tear up the whole back yard, if that's what it takes!!

So in preparation for Operation Avenging Angel, I've cut down all the bamboo. All of it. And, within two days, it started to shoot up again. Just two days! I wanted to weep. Or buy some napalm. It's literally coming back quicker than I can keep up with it.

The futility of my labors puts me in mind of the Greek myth of Sisyphus, about the dude condemned by the gods to push a boulder up a mountain every day, then have it roll down the mountain each night. And then, in the morning, what did he have to do? That's right...push the boulder back up the mountain. It could be about a midwestern gardener with a bad case of bamboo. Just give poor Sisyphus a pair of shears.

But this is getting depressing. So I will wrap up with a nicer topic of things I find in my yard: bird's nests. (NB: no birds, eggs or nestlings were disturbed in any way for the photographing of these nests. All nests were collected only after they had been vacated or abandoned.)

This is -- I think! -- a grackle's nest, found in the bamboo when I first started clearing it out. Notice the plastic interwoven with the natural materials.

This is another robin's nest. I know for a fact that it's a robin's, as we watched the bird build it on our drain spout and sit in in for a week or so. Then one day the wind blew the nest to the ground. There did not appear to be any eggs or baby birds, however.

This bird also took advantage of some human made nesting material...Easter grass!

Finally, in the bamboo, I found what I think is another grackle's nest. I'm just basing this on some photos I found on the Internet, plus the fact that the only species of birds who really seem to love the bamboo are grackles (in the summer) and house sparrows and starlings (in the winter). Also, a Cooper's hawk, who dropped by frequently one winter to feast on the sparrows and starlings. Hey, it's nature.

In any event, this nest, attached to two culms of bamboo, is pretty massive.

But so intricate! Look how it's attached to the bamboo, with what looks like a borrowed piece of twine!

The other side is just made of grasses looped around. I guess they only found one piece of twine.

Just as I think I'm getting better at bird identification, I stumble across a whole new field of study--bird nests!

Well, hopefully, this time next year, the bamboo will be gone for good, and I'll have a wider variety of birds nesting in my yard. (Come on, house wrens!)

Birding on borrowed time

red winged blackbird

Spring migration is the best time of the whole year. And it's gone so quickly. It seems like there was never enough time, and I barely got outside as much as I wanted, and I still have a half dozen warblers I didn't see, every year.

This spring, it felt like it rained every single weekend. I was starting to feel like nature had a grudge against me. As if there were some spiteful weather spirit perched atop an enormous black rain cloud, following me everywhere I went, muttering, "You think you're going to go out and see any warblers? Well, only if you want to see them in a thunderstorm! Mwa-ha-ha!" A bit extreme, perhaps, but such is the strength of the feeling that spring migration brings.

The icing on the cake was supposed to be the first weekend of May, when my parents came to visit. I had promised them a spring warblerama the likes of which they had never before witnessed. I told my mother, Sunwiggy, that with me as her birding guide, we could possibly see one hundred species on one day. The original plan was to take them for a quick stroll on Thursday evening when they arrived, then head over to Vermilion County on Sunday for an all day birding blast. Friday morning she wanted to go to the Dixon Waterfowl Refuge at Hennepin-Hopper lakes in Putnum County, where last year we'd finally seen yellow-headed blackbirds, just when I was suspecting they were swiftly becoming a nemesis bird.

As it turned out, Thursday, after a day of sunshine, it started to pour as soon as they got to town. Friday morning I awoke to further downpour. Instead of birding, we went out for breakfast at a local restaurant, and I stared sullenly out the window as new raindrops made pockmarks in the puddles.

I decided to go to Bloomington with them for a spot of shopping instead, when just as we were reaching the McLean County line, the rain slowed to a drizzle, and then ceased. Given a choice between shopping and birding, it's obvious what I'm going to do.

"Let's check out Centennial Park [in Heyworth]," I suggested. "It's a small park, but sometimes the birding's good. Last year there was a prothonotary."

We parked by the short, woodsy trail that runs along the back of the park. "Welcome to Warbler Alley," I said jokingly. But it was no joke! The storms must have created fall-out condition, for the trees were practically dripping with spring migrants. Ninety percent of these were yellow-rumped warblers. But in the other ten percent, we got some sweet species, such as black and white, Cape May, palm, yellow and blackpoll warblers, plus warbling vireos.

A fellow walking his dog stopped to tell us about the nesting bald eagles. I had heard of these frequently, but had yet to see them. He also told us how he had rescued his dog a couple of years ago after his wife found it lying by a ditch, practically starving and wounded by gunshot. The dog seemed in good health and spirits, however, and truly lived up to its name, Lucky.

As we walked back towards the car, one of the eagles of local fame flew overhead, carrying such long branches in its talons that at first glance, I assumed it was a great blue heron.

After that, of course, it rained. In between running errands with Greenturtle I did manage to squelch into Ewing Park in Bloomington, where I enjoyed the sight of a hooded warbler in the rain.

Saturday, rain. Every time I thought I'd caught a lull in the drizzle, I raced outside, only to be foiled by the weather once again.

So by Sunday, the last day of their visit, I was starting to feel a bit desperate. Luckily, the weather cooperated for us at last.

As our Friday morning trip to Hennepin-Hopper had been cancelled due to weather, and Sunwiggy insisted that, out of every spot in all of central Illinois, that was the one she wanted to visit the most, we were heading for Putnam County. As I was mostly lusting for warblers, I convinced them to stop at Funks Grove in McLean County along the way.

I have long thought that being a birding guide would be an awesome job, so it was great fun to play that role with my parents. And luckily, the birds cooperated. Once again, we found ourselves surrounded by a giant mixed feeding flock. We added indigo bunting, scarlet tanager, Swainson's thrush, wood thrush, Tennessee warbler, eastern wood pewee, gray-cheeked thrush and blue winged warbler to our year lists in short order.

And what could be better than seeing a scarlet tanager? Why, that would be seeing it in the company of a summer tanager, which was perching in the trees directly over my head.

"Summer tanager!" I called out.

"Where?" they cried. "Where's the summer tanager?"

"It's right over my head here." I pointed skyward. "Right directly over my head."

"But where, where is it? I can't see it."

I clarified, "If it took a dump right this minute, it would land in my eye!" So much for being a birding guide...but they did see the tanager.

As we headed down the road to Sugar Grove Nature Center, the birding just kept on being fabulous. A flock of rose-breasted grosbeaks were feeding in the middle of the road. By the nature center, white-crowned sparrows clustered around the feeders, while Baltimore orioles flocked to the oranges.

Mindful of my boast that we could see up to one hundred species, I suggested we walk the prairie to try for some grassland species, but gray clouds and a biting wind were rolling in. My dad was cold, and it truly did look like more rain, we decided to head northward, where the forecast was kinder.

the observation tower at Dixon Waterfowl Refuge

Hennepin-Hopper was as beautiful as ever, but alas, the stars of the show, the yellow-headed blackbirds, had not chosen to make an appearance. I wonder if the water level was too high for them (last year was much dryer), if we arrived too late in the day, or if some other happenstance or fickle mood had kept them away. There were also no great egrets or double-crested cormorants, which surprised me, as they have always been "regulars" in the past.

The species we did see were also surprising: ring-necked ducks, ruddy ducks and bufflehead. Shouldn't they have moved north already? And yet there they were. Someone said that the lakes had just been restocked with small fish; maybe that was was kept them around. Joining them were the more expected blue winged teal and wood duck, plus an American white pelican (just one?!?) and a pair of mute swans.

At the other end of the prairie/wetland trail, we heard the uncanny noise of a sora, and as my parents seemed interested in finding it, I took my responsibilities of bird guide seriously and stared into the reeds until I found it. Several more minutes passed until everyone had had a satisfactory look, as the bird was so well camouflaged that even when I was staring right at it, the sora would somehow manage to blend in with the surrounding cattails in a kind of reverse "magic eye" trick.

Now you see it, now you don't...sora

As we stopped to eat the sandwiches we'd brought, we watched a sad and vicious spectacle. A thuggish house sparrow was in the process of evicting a tree swallow from a tree cavity it had chosen for a nest. The swallow made a couple of attempts to reclaim the lost territory, but the sparrow, a ruffian through and through, bullied it mercilessly until it gave up. I found myself identifying with the poor tree swallow, imaging someone barging in and evicting me from my home.

There was one last spot to explore, the mile-long "seep trail" that follows a series of springs and puddles--seeps---where at this time of year I would normally expect to see red-headed woodpecker, Baltimore orioles and a sprinkling of warblers. I was not disappointed. All of these, plus yellow-bellied flycatcher, great crested flycatcher, marsh wren, and about a dozen yellow warblers made an appearance. I have never seen so many yellow warblers in one spot; that might be the "best bird" of the day just for their quantity.

We also saw some plants that had been uprooted and tossed by the trail. Sunwiggy wondered who was pulling out plants, so I explained that it was garlic mustard, a horribly invasive species that is attempting world domination. It spreads like wildfire, crowding out native plants such as spring wildflowers, and changing the habitat -- and the scenery -- for the worse. Yanking this crap out is a good thing.

garlic mustard--bad, bad, bad

Both of my parents were so inspired by my speech that we all began removing clumps of it up and down the trail, until we realized that it was a never-ending task and meanwhile, the birds weren't going to wait for us to finish. Along the way, we met the couple who'd been removing it; it's always nice to meet another avenger of native plants.

My parents got tired before we reached the end of the trail, and turned back early, although they said they were entertained in the meantime by watching a mute swan terrorizing a Canada goose. I'm starting to sense a pattern here -- the house sparrow, the garlic mustard, the mute swan, all showing up from distant parts to bully the locals. Don't get me wrong; I like mute swans. And I hear that garlic mustard is good to eat. And as for house sparrows, well, it's not their fault they don't belong here. It was like a mini-environmental lesson, with examples, there at Hennepin Hopper.

The day kind of wound down after that, and we finished out at a respectable, but not spectacular, seventy-seven species.

And then balmy, sunny day followed upon balmy, sunny day, and I had to work. Since I have an hour and a half of commute on top of my nine-hour work days, there's little time for birding in between. It's hard enough for me to be cooped up inside all day at any time of the year...but during spring migration! It feels like being stuck in prison all day, then let out at night for good behavior.

The imprisoned Count of Monte Cristo trying to catch a glimpse of a Blackburnian warbler

And then, on the weekends...rain!! There were some good moments--a couple of hours at Mettler woods under gloomy skies, where the scarlet of the tanager and the yellow throat of the vireo and the orange on the Blackburnian warbler still shimmered, despite the gray weather.

Or after doing the same double take several times, when I realized that real difference between a thrush and an ovenbird (which look similar on first glance) is not the ovenbird's smaller size or subtle orange cap, but its look of perpetual alarm. Every ovenbird I've seen has looked like it's getting ready for the apocalypse. Thrushes, on the other hand, are quite laid back.

As the spring warbler season winds down, I've been thinking of how the famous birder Phoebe Snetsinger -- the first person to get more than 8,000 species on her life list -- called her memoir, Birding on Borrowed Time. I always assumed that she chose that title because she had been given a diagnosis of terminal cancer (which went into remission; twenty years later she was killed in a bus accident).

Obviously, having a disease like that, even if one has successfully dodged it, would make one more aware of the brevity of warblers in migration. But more to the point, none of us has an infinite supply of years. And the birds themselves, depending on the species, might not be here in a decade or a century. We're all on borrowed time.

Or, with apologies to A.E. Housman:

Of my three-score years and ten
Forty will not come again
And thirty years will never do
To watch the warblers going through.

"Each death is a tiny crime scene"

wind turbines outside of Moraine View State Park

Originally I had mentally prepared a long rant on this topic, but on consideration, I think the facts speak for themselves. For the past decade or so, I have watched as many counties in central Illinois have been blanketed in wind farms. Even worse, two local parks -- bird magnets each, Moraine View and Comlara Park in McLean County -- have had these monsters erected right along theirs perimeters. It seems that the famous birding Mecca, Magee Marsh in Ohio, is also threatened by encroaching wind farms.

I'm an environmentalist, so I must love wind energy, right? Not always. I think it definitely has its place. And I think that, on average, the damage done to birds by wind turbines is less than that done by mountaintop removal mining or BP-sized oil spills. But that's like comparing the victims of a serial killer to those of a holocaust.

What has always annoyed me is how these wind farms have been slapped together as quickly as possible, before the tax credits run out, without any sort of consideration for their placement or the impact on local and migrating birds. Why would you place these things right outside of one of the few green areas in the county, for example?

Recently, someone posted a link on the Illinois Birders Exchanging Thoughts (IBET) listserv, about some of the damage that these turbines do, especially to some of our most beloved birds of prey. It's not a happy topic, but one that is definitely worth knowing about.

And now I'm done. See? No ranting!

A poem...about scarlet tanagers

Today on my lunch break, I took a short walk at Sportsman's Park and saw a scarlet tanager. For some reason, I've been seeing tons of them this year, not that I'm complaining! The beginning of a poem started percolating through my head. As soon as I got home, I grabbed my notebook and tried to tease the rest of it out. This is what I came up with. I hope you enjoy it.

The Tanager

At lunch time, as I walked the short path
at Sportman's Park, by Lake Decatur, suddenly,
I saw a scarlet tanager,
a bird so insanely, incandescently red,
compared to which, all other shades
of red are mere approximations,
perching there, like the heart of flames,
the Platonic messenger of pure color;
shimmering as if the sun itself can
barely stand to witness such intensity.

Seeing this bird, I knew at last what
my eyes are for, and was devastated to think of
the three decades in which I never saw, or sought,
a tanager's profound and world-altering scarletness
hiding in the branches. Now, that lapse
is unthinkable, a closely averted catastrophe.

Some wonder if you can miss
something you never knew. In that moment,
of myself and the tanager, I understood beyond
a doubt: the answer is yes.
Long before I knew to miss them, a
tanager-sized hole perched inside me,
a gap in my soul that only
the sight of a scarlet tanager could fill.

If someday it comes to pass, that these
incandescent birds depart, whether due to loss of
habitat, or congenial climate, or some other form
of human carelessness, that tanager-sized gap
will only grow until it fills the universe
with its emptiness, a wound that tears
through all of us,
through everything, a wound that
nothing but a scarlet tanager
could heal.

DeWitt County Birding Guide: Weldon Springs State Park

dickcissel at Weldon Springs

Weldon Springs is a 550 acre park not too far from Clinton, IL. This park is very special to me. Not only was it the first place I ever birded (on a walk with the JWP Audubon Society back in September 2004), but has since become my personal birding "patch," as it is only a five minute drive from my house.

My Personal Birding History:

For the past two years, I have stopped at Weldon Springs to bird at least once a month, if not more often. At least once a season, I try to do an all day "birding census" of every inch of the park.

General description:

The park contains a variety of habitats, attracting a surprising number of birds. There are two prairie trails. The Old Farmhouse Loop is a two mile trail that winds past an old cemetery and small grove of trees and a farmstead and its outbuildings (now falling down...picturesque, but you can't enter them), with a small stream and marshy area. The second prairie, the Old Union Schoolhouse Trail, takes you to a seasonal pond, the eponymous schoolhouse, and a mile or so of open scrubby area.

The backpack loop takes you through a lowland forest, with some of the tallest trees in DeWitt County, which runs along Salt Creek. Past the backpack loop is another trail, taking one past fields and more wooded areas. One can either loop back to the backpack parking area, along an unused blacktop, or walk up a short, steep wooded trail alongside a creek to connect with the Union Schoolhouse Prairie.

Another two-mile trail loops around the man made Weldon Spring Lake, taking one to various vantage points around the lake, through a small wetland, and across an open area where the concession stand and the Springs of yore can be found.

Other birdable areas can be found by walking the circular road crossing the park and following the various turn-offs to the Sledding Hill/backpack loop, the Meadowlark shelter, and the camping area. I have yet to find a spot in this park that is not good for birding.

The park office has a bird feeder which is also worth taking a look at, especially in the winter months.


Other features/points of interest:

Hiking: This is a great park for hiking, with over seven miles of trails, most of which connect to each other sooner or later. The trails are generally easy to moderate, although there are a couple of steep hills, and the loop around the lake has several staircases to help keep you in shape! All of these areas seem to be popular with trail runners as well. (For those who wish to avoid stairs and hills, the two prairie loops keep one on level ground. The Old Union Schoolhouse Loop is probably the easiest of the lot.) Cross-country skiing is also allowed on the backpack loop. Cyclists can traverse the roads, but there are no biking trails.

Fishing: Fishing is allowed in the park. I don't fish myself, so I can't give any details. Boats are available for rent during the summer months as well.

Family activities: The Old Union Schoolhouse has an interpretive, "hands on" learning center which should be fun for nature-loving families and kids. There is also a sledding hill and horseshoe pits, plus many areas where one can gather the family for a big BBQ or picnic. There is also at least one playground area, although it seems fairly basic.

Historical interest: There aren't any historical sites per se, but Weldon Springs does have an interesting backstory. From 1901-1921, the park was part of the famous "Chatauqua" circuit, in which speakers came for the education, entertainment and "moral elevation" of up to 325 families who camped out in the area to attend. Some of these speakers included William Jennings Bryant, Helen Keller, Carrie Nation, president William Howard Taft, the reverend Billy Sunday, and the evangelist Sam Jones. The springs themselves were considered to have healing properties.

Food and camping: Both RV and backpack camping is available at the park, and there is a restaurant on site as well. As I have never camped or eaten here, I can't vouch for either experience. However, I do commend the park's toilets as being the least disgusting in the county!

Caveats: This park seems very safe and is generally well maintained. As hunting is not allowed, birders and hikers don't have to contend with random closure dates due to hunting season. However, the park, especially the lake loop trail, tends to get very crowded on nice days, spring through fall, especially on the weekends. Birders may wish to plan on arriving early to beat the crowds. The other trails are usually not too crowded, as long as you don't mind the occasional trail runner or dog walker.

Also, the backpack loop tends to flood if there has been a lot of recent rain.

Birding highlights:

My favorite trail is probably the "Old Farmhouse" Loop. For one thing, I love me a nice prairie, and this one is great. In the summer months, eastern bluebird, eastern meadowlark, dickcissel, house wren, common yellowthroat and field sparrow, plus a ton of barn and field swallows, are all "shoo-ins." Red-headed woodpecker (rare in the county), northern flicker, orchard oriole, rose-breasted grosbeak, vesper sparrow, and most exciting of all, a pair of blue grosbeak, have all been seen by yours truly. (I am extremely curious to see if the blue grosbeak was a one-off from last summer, or if they will return this year. Here's hoping!)

Also, if you're pining to see a bobwhite, they are pretty easy to see and hear for most of the season.

Fall migration has also been good to me on this trail. Last year, I had sparrows galore, including LeConte's, as well as upland sandpiper and bobolink.

As for the winter months, American tree sparrow and northern harrier are "regulars."

American tree sparrow

My second favorite is the "Backpack Loop," which you can get to by turning at the sign for the Sledding Hill. This part can be a little confusing; the entry point features a wooden bench, and from there, you can either follow one big loop or cut back at various points along shorter trails in between. I once wandered aimlessly round and round before I figured it out, so don't feel bad if you are momentarily discombobulated. Just keep telling yourself...it's a small park; I can't get lost!

This trail is my number one recommendation for spring and fall migration. Warblers love the tall trees. I have also seen bank sparrows nesting in the banks of Salt Creek, and wood duck seem to like this area in the spring, as do rusty blackbirds. And last summer, I saw northern parula and American redstart, in their breeding plumage, in July. Again, so curious to see if this is a pattern! And I'm pretty sure that wood thrush and yellow billed cuckoo set up shop here for the summer. Just bring some bug spray if you want to test my theory, as the mosquitoes are usually horrible.

The loop around the Lake is also good, although it can be crowded on weekends when the weather is nice. Still, there is a small wetland area where ruby-throated hummingbirds gather by the dozen in the fall, to feast upon the jewelweed. Green heron, great blue heron, and belted kingfisher are pretty easy. Late fall through early spring can produce some interesting waterfowl (greater white-fronted geese, Canada geese, cackling geese, mallards, bufflehead, green-winged teal, ruddy duck, pied-billed grebe, northern shoveler), although the water is pretty shallow, so that leaves out a bunch of species.

great blue heron in wetland at Weldon Springs

I have also had really awesome warbler days on this loop in the fall. Not so much in the spring...I will be interested to see if this is a pattern or just chance. Though I have seen yellow warbler and bay-breasted warbler (in or near the wetland) in the spring, so it's always worth checking out.

In my experience, the Union School Trail loop is the least interesting, although it is the only place I have seen olive-sided flycatcher (in the fall). Blue winged teal seem to like the ephemeral wetland in the spring, and red-winged blackbirds stay through early summer. This is also a good place to see summering Baltimore orioles. And the shrubby/scrubby areas along this trail are promising for summer vireo. I have definitely heard white-eyed, and heard rumors of Bell's. If you're here for a summer's day, it's worth checking out.


Finally, the back pack loop and school house loop are connected by a short trail which can be good for migrants or summer species. There used to be some bird feeders in this area, but for some reason (probably budgetary), they were taken down last winter.

The remaining feeders, by the park office, are interesting for purple finches in winter and red-breasted nuthatch in the fall.


Species checklist:

This is a list of the birds that I have personally seen at this location, and when I have seen them. It is, therefore, limited in scope, and not to be taken as the final word on birds to be seen in the area. As I continue to bird in the region, I will regularly update all my checklists.

In the interests of simplicity, I have categorized species as YEAR ROUND RESIDENTS/ SUMMER RESIDENTS / WINTER RESIDENTS / and MOSTLY IN MIGRATION. I think these categories are self-explanatory, but there is a degree of overlap. For example, on a particular spring day, I might see a lingering American tree sparrow (winter resident), an early red-winged blackbird (summer resident), and a fox sparrow, golden-crowned kinglet, and ring-necked ducks (mostly migrants). Birders are encouraged to use their general knowledge to pinpoint the best times to look for a particular species. I am also always happy to answer any questions as to exactly when and where I saw a particular bird. Feel free to leave a comment, as I check them regularly.

"Common/abundant" means a species that I see every time or almost every time I go birding at this location, at the appropriate time of year and habitat; "occasional/somewhat common" means a species that I see often in the appropriate time of year and habitat, but can't count on finding on any given excursion; and "uncommon/rare" refers to species I have only seen once or twice a year, or less often.

YEAR ROUND RESIDENTS

Common/abundant: black-capped chickadee; tufted titmouse; American goldfinch; Canada goose; mourning dove; red-bellied woodpecker; downy woodpecker; blue jay; American crow; white-breasted nuthatch; northern cardinal; house sparrow; European starling

Occasional/somewhat common: hairy woodpecker; Cooper's hawk; ring-billed gull; barred owl; cedar waxwing; red-tailed hawk; northern flicker; eastern bluebird; belted kingfisher (in winter only if there is open water); Carolina wren; house finch; American kestrel; ring-necked pheasant

Uncommon/rare: wild turkey; red-headed woodpecker

SUMMER RESIDENTS

Common/abundant: ruby-throated hummingbird; Eastern wood pewee; warbling vireo; great blue heron; turkey vulture; eastern phoebe; eastern kingbird; eastern meadowlark; dickcissel; tree swallow; barn swallow; red-winged blackbird; indigo bunting; common yellowthroat; house wren; song sparrow; American robin; gray catbird; field sparrow; brown-headed cowbird; brown thrasher; common grackle; chipping sparrow; eastern towhee

Occasional/somewhat common: green heron; great crested flycatcher; cliff swallow; rose-breasted grosbeak; Baltimore oriole; northern bobwhite; yellow-billed cuckoo; wood thrush; blue-gray gnatcatcher; wood duck; bank swallow; killdeer; chimney swift

Uncommon/rare: Orchard oriole; white-eyed vireo; yellow warbler; blue grosbeak; willow flycatcher;northern parula; American redstart

common yellowthroat

WINTER RESIDENTS

Common/abundant: American tree sparrow; dark-eyed junco

Occasional/somewhat common: purple finch; song sparrow; white-throated sparrow; great blue heron (if there is open water); northern harrier; greater white-fronted goose; cackling goose; bald eagle; American coot

Uncommon/rare: sharp-shinned hawk; rough-legged hawk; red-winged blackbird

MOSTLY IN MIGRATION:

Common/abundant: red-eyed vireo; pied-billed grebe; Swainson's thrush; Magnolia warbler; yellow-rumped warbler; white-throated sparrow; golden crowned kinglet; ruby crowned kinglet; northern shoveler; fox sparrow; wood duck; palm warbler

Occasional/somewhat common: least flycatcher; black and white warbler; black-throated green warbler; Wilson's warbler; Canada warbler; blue-winged warbler; northern parula; American redstart; golden-winged warbler; chestnut-sided warbler; Blackburnian warbler; ovenbird; Tennessee warbler; Nashville warbler; bay-breasted warbler; white-eyed vireo; Philadelphia vireo; yellow-bellied sapsucker; swamp sparrow; Lincoln's sparrow; white-crowned sparrow; scarlet tanager; snow goose; green-winged teal; blue-winged teal; ring-necked duck; bufflehead; ruddy duck; lesser scaup; hooded merganser; brown creeper; American woodcock; broad-winged hawk; hermit thrush

Uncommon/rare: yellow-bellied flycatcher; olive-sided flycatcher; Acadian flycatcher; bobolink; American bittern; upland sandpiper; veery; yellow warbler; sedge wren; red-breasted nuthatch; Le Conte's sparrow; rusty blackbird

I am planning on doing my "Birding Guides" in bimonthly installments...next up, Mascoutin State Recreation Area (DeWitt County).

Birds in Greek mythology

Eustace LeSueur, "Abduction of Ganymede," 1650

I've been meaning to do a post about the birds of Greek mythology for a while now, and by "a while," I mean, oh, about the past year or so. The sheer scope of the topic has been a bit daunting, to be honest. Every time I'd stop and do a little research, I'd find more, and more, and more. Those ancient Greeks had a lot of tales to tell!

But then I reminded myself, it's not a research paper. It's just something I'm slapping together for my blog just for fun. So here goes....

Probably one of the most famous stories is that of the twelve labors of Hercules. He had to perform these labors to atone for having killed his sons (although that wasn't really his fault; he was crazy at the time); for our purposes, the most relevant of these tasks was the sixth labor, killing the Stymphalian Birds.

Apparently, these birds were really bad news. Maybe you are sick of house sparrows taking over your purple martin houses or pigeons soiling your local park benches. Well, you have nothing to complain about compared to the people around Lake Stymphalia in Arcada, where the local people were terrorized by man-eating birds with toxic dung who could launch sharp, metallic feathers as a weapon. These things bred as quickly as starlings, and not only destroyed the crops, but ate the farmers, too. Luckily for the people of Arcada, Hercules soon put a stop to that.

Hercules killing the Stymphalian birds

He flushed them by shaking a rattle given to him by Athena (or maybe it was Hephaestus; I've read different versions), killing them as they flew up from the marshy edges of the lake. Those he didn't kill flew away to the island of Ares, where they were subsequently frightened off by Jason and the Argonauts. I am not sure what became of them after that. Perhaps they went extinct.

And if anyone doubts that birds can make someone's life a living hell, consider the plight of poor Prometheus, tormented for his audacity in giving the gift of fire to humanity by having an eagle feast upon his liver each day.

Prometheus being tormented by an eagle

Another curious phenomenon that is no longer much reported is that of people turning into birds. This seemed to happen frequently back in the days of the Greeks, as in the tragic example of Philomela and Procne.

As told by Ovid, a woman named Procne married a particularly loathsome character, Tereus, the King of Thrace. Not wanting to be parted from her sister, Philomela, she convinced her husband to let her join them. Unable to contain his lust for his sister-in-law, Tereus raped her and cut out her tongue. Philomela managed to tell Procne what had happened by weaving a tapestry to tell the story, and the two sisters got their revenge by killing Procne and Tereus' son Itys and cooking him up as dinner. (And I always wondered if the horror movies that are my guilty pleasure are too gruesome. Compared to this stuff, they are downright tame!)

After Tereus finished his meal, they held up Itys' decapitated head to taunt him, and he chased them in a murderous fury. The women prayed to be turned into birds to escape his rage, and thus Procne became a swallow and Philomena a nightingale. Although he did not want to be turned into a bird, Tereus became a hoopoe. (Other versions of the myth have them becoming different birds; but birds they all became.)

In a happier tale, the goddess Halcyon and her mortal lover, King Ceyx, were tragically parted when Ceyx died in a shipwreck. Halcyon threw herself into the waves in despair, whereupon the goddess Hera took pity on her sorrow and transformed both of them into kingfishers, so they could still be together.

Halcyon was also able to get Zeus to promise a spot of good weather so she could lay her eggs, which is the origin of the term "Halcyon Days."

In a tale from Homer, the hero Meleager was involved in the hunt for the Calydonian boar. His beloved, the huntress Atalanta, first wounded the boar, and Meleager gave her the hide as she had drawn the first blood. Long story short, a huge argument ensued over a woman being awarded the "prize," and Meleager himself ended up dead by the end of the tale (he ticked off someone named Althaea by killing the dudes who insulted Atalanta, and Althaea got revenge by destroying the brand that had to be protected because if it burned up, Meleager would die...yikes, it is almost impossible to simplify these tales).

After his death, his sisters were so mournful, keening and sobbing, that the goddess Artemis transformed them into guinea fowl and sent them to the island of Leros. This is why guinea fowl make pitiful sobbing noises. They just can't get over Meleager's death.

When the gods weren't transforming other people into birds, at least one god, Zeus, was becoming a bird himself in order to commit hanky-panky. In one instance, he transformed himself into an eagle in order to kidnap the youth Ganymede to become his "cupbearer," and at another time, he seduced a young woman named Leda in the guise of a swan. This is actually one of the more tasteful renditions of this scene.... I'm not really sure why anyone wants to think about a woman making out with a swan, but anyhoo...

"Leda and the Swan in the Palace of Fesch Ajaccio" by Paola Veronese

Finally, there are birds that became associated with a Greek deity, such as Athena and the owl. For many of my generation, this bit of mythology lives on due to the mechanical owl named Bubo in the movie Clash of the Titans.

In actual myth, the owl (symbolized by a Glaucous or Little Owl) would not have been seen as a "pet" or companion of the goddess, but as a representation or symbol of Athena. The owl symbolized wisdom and vigilance, due to its ability to see in the darkness, and the eyes that seemed to shine from within.

Regardless of how this association came to be, it was so entrenched that an Athenian coin, which was in circulation for over 300 years (430 BC -- 99 BC), featured an image of Athena on one side and an owl on the other, and were colloquially known as "owls."

Athenian coin

I love owls, but my favorite bird is the crow, and crows were associated with the god Apollo. In some stories, Apollo seems to have a grudge against crows: in one instance, he turns the crows' feathers black for telling him about the infidelity of his lover, Coronis; in another tale, he banishes the crow a constellation in the sky for eating figs instead of bringing him water as it was supposed to. In the heavens, the crow perches eternally near the water-snake, but unable to drink, which is why his caw is so raspy.

Apollo and the crow

In other tales, Apollo and the crow are on better terms; crows are considered sacred to Apollo, and in one myth, the god turned himself into a crow in order to escape the monster Typhon.

And now, I am suffering from Internet overload, a fate unknown to the ancient Greeks, I am sure. If I could turn into a bird in order to soothe my mind, I would either become a mourning dove, as I don't think they have enough brains to worry themselves, or a blue jay, as I am sure they are far too clever to get into such a state.

I hope you have enjoyed this summary of birds and the ancient Greeks; in the meantime, please let me know if there is a good bird myth that I have overlooked.

Where the warblers are

prairie warbler

Once again, spring migration is upon us. And to many of us, the creme de la creme, the icing on the migration cake, is warblers in their breeding plumage. It's not that I don't appreciate other types of birds. Of course I do. But to me, "warblers" and "spring" are pretty much synonymous.

Last year, the spring warbler phenomenon wasn't much to speak of. Many central Illinois birder commented how they seemed to fly right past us, so I knew I wasn't the only one. Still, that wasn't much consolation!

This year, over the past week or two, my personal sightings have started to trickle in. A couple of weeks ago, I got my first of year pine warbler at Sand Ridge and my first northern parula at Weldon Springs. Then last weekend, I added some palm warblers. Some lunch break birding last week added a splendid yellow warbler, and then yesterday at Friends Creek Park in Macon County I saw my FOY common yellowthroat and northern waterthrush.

These are all nice birds, but when it comes to warblers, I am greedy. I want mixed feeding flocks of splendid males...and I was especially hoping for four species in particular, which would all be life birds: yellow-throated, prairie, Kentucky and cerulean.

Finally, I decided that if the warblers would not come to me, I would have to go to where the warblers are, and according to the ebird alerts I get daily in my in-box, most central Illinois warblers were showing up at Busey Woods, an urban park in Champaign-Urbana, not too far from where I live, with the added attraction of some nice restaurants and shopping to boot.

At one point, I would probably have been surprised that the best birding is found in a city park. But I have since learned that these small oases, surrounded by traffic and concrete, often offer great birding, as all birds migrating over the cities have limited places to land. (The documentary Birders: The Central Park Effect is a great demonstration of this. Central Park is a birding hotspot because of, not in spite of, the fact that its surrounded by miles of urban wasteland...from a migrating bird's point of view.)

So off I went this morning, with my ever-obliging husband Greenturtle along for the fun. (He also took all the photos accompanying this post, which I appreciate, as it leaves my attention free to focus on the birds.)

Busey Woods is a 59 acre urban oasis in the heart of Champaign-Urbana, a nice patch of woods with a nature center attached. We had been there once before, for a quick stroll while we were waiting for our parrot to be examined at the U of I small animal clinic; unfortunately, at that time, I was a bit preoccupied, and did not really enjoy the park as much as I could have, although I did wonder why so much of it was traversed by a boardwalk.

Well, this trip answered that question...after all the spring rains we've been having, much of the woods is under water...great for prothonotary warblers, of which two or three were in evidence.

an unusual prothonotary warbler

We got terrific views of this one. I do wonder if this particular individual is an unusual variant or perhaps even a hybrid, as I have never seen a prothonotary with a "cap" before. In any case, he was very blase about the humans around him. Greenturtle commented on how "tame" some of these birds seemed.

Probably, the reason for that is twofold--the migrating birds are tired and hungry. Their main concern is finding enough food to continue on their journey, so they probably aren't paying much attention to some random humans. Also, as far as they know, humans aren't a big threat. The harm we do to warblers, we mostly do behind their backs, so to speak: destroying habitat, placing barriers like skyscrapers and wind turbines in their way, releasing our felines upon them, etc. To look at us, staring at them with amazement and admiration, who would think we had done them such harm?

Other great first of year birds I saw at the park were white-throated vireo, gray catbird, and two green herons.

green heron

Even some old favorites showed up in endearing ways, such as this bathing white-throated sparrow.

It's all too easy to overlook such common birds, until they do something so cute.

And saving the best till last, right as we were getting ready to leave the park, we saw my "life bird" prairie warbler...so close that I almost stepped on it. Another great birding day in central Illinois!