Bird With A Shiny Robe

Phainopepla Male by David Bogener

Some birds just won’t do without a little pzzazz in their doing. Phainopeplas are among them, tip to tail.

They are slight birds, the length of a pencil, and nearly as much tail as anything else. But their eyes are cranberry red, and their heads sport flashy crests, erect feathers reminiscent of a Greek soldier’s helmet decor or a contemporary hairstyle.

And their feathers! Known as “silky flycatchers,” these birds paddle the air powerfully, but somehow retain a soft, fluttery quality to their wingbeats. In color, the females wear the gray-brown of nesting camouflage. Males, by contrast, wear glossy black, broken only by white wing patches that flash in flight. Their feathers earn the species its name. “Phainopepla” comes from the Greek for “shiny robe.”

Phainopepla Female by David Bogener

Despite their haute couture getup, the males are no slouches in domestic duties. They begin in winter, by selecting a nesting site, usually 10-20 feet up a tree in mistletoe. Then they dance in the air high above it, hoping to impress a female by fluttering, diving, and flashing their wing patches. They entice the females with ritual feeding of berries or insects. Once a pair forms, the male builds a tidy, palm-sized nest, woven together with spider silk and lined with hair or feathers. She may add some lining, and then lays 2-3 eggs.

The pair share two weeks of incubating duties, and typically do not leave the nest until replaced by a mate. After the eggs hatch, both parents care for the young through fledging at about three weeks old.

Like most songbirds, phainopeplas feed their children insects, providing a high protein diet that lets the young develop quickly. For themselves, however, they eat mostly berries, and mistletoe is a particular favorite. Although toxic to us, mistletoe berries pass through the phainopeplas’ digestive tracts quickly, imparting no poison but also little nutrition. The birds make up for the quality of the berries with quantity, eating up to 1100 mistletoe berries a day. In defecating those berries they help spread mistletoe to new growing sites.

Mistletoe

Food may or may not shape human culture, but it seems central to phainopepla society. Mistletoe clumps provide both food and nesting-site cover. Egg-laying appears to be timed with its berry-ripening. Where mistletoe is scarce, a pair will defend its mistletoe turf, chasing off other phainopeplas. Where mistletoe is abundant, many phainopeplas may nest colonially, sharing the resource and chasing off invaders such as bluebirds, which also eat mistletoe, and scrub-jays, which eat eggs and nestlings.

The guidebooks indicate that phainopeplas migrate south from their northernmost range, here in Shasta County, but they have been found in the area year-round. Mistletoe is abundant in the blue oak woodlands, and even outside breeding season makes a good place to find these birds. Look just above mistletoe clumps for a slender, upright phainopepla guarding its food source. A thriving population of the birds was recently observed south of the Redding Airport at Fairway Oaks Mobile Home Park and the adjoining Tucker Oaks Golf Course.

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Songster of the Conifers–beautiful but invisible?

Red-breasted Nuthatch

Red-breasted Nuthatch

If you have entered the world of the conifers above the Central Valley, or throughout most of North America for that matter, you stand a good chance of having heard an ongoing, nasal ankh, ankh, ankh, ankh. It is the song of the red-breasted nuthatches, elfin birds of our pines and firs.

 

They are harder to see than hear; they don’t seem shy, but they are small, and much of their living happens far over our heads. Nuthatches are built for prying insects from the bark of trees. Their bill is slightly dished up and stout enough to shovel bugs from crevice hide-aways. Their shoulders are broad, relatively speaking, and provide the heft to wield their strong bills. Their long hind toe is used, uniquely in the bird world, to hold them in place while they hunt face-down on a tree trunk or branch. Their tails are stiff, allowing them to prop against a tree as they pound against it.

And what do they pound? In addition to picking insects from cracks in tree trunks, these nuthatches gather seeds from cones at branch-tips. They often wedge hard pine-nuts into crannies in the bark and then crack them open with hammer blows from their bills. Also, these versatile gymnasts, like woodpeckers, carve out their own cavities for nesting. No fools, they prefer the softer wood of dead limbs and snags for their home-building.

Males often begin several nesting holes as part of their courting. A female takes over and shapes the chosen cavity to her liking, taking about two weeks to complete the excavation. Both adults apply sap to the hole entrance–he on the exterior, she on the interior. The tiny nuthatches dive right through the hole without getting gummed up, but predators, from owls to ants, can be deterred by the sticky goo.

He begins feeding the female, and she lays a handful of eggs in their nest. The young hatch, naked and blind, after two weeks of incubation. Another two weeks and, having been fed and protected by both parents, the young fledge into the world.

There, if you enter that world of the conifers, you may be able to see them. A little luck and a decent pair of binoculars will let you enjoy the red-breasted nuthatch’s gray-blue back, chestnut underside, and black eyeline under a white eyebrow. Otherwise, at least you may enjoy their ubiquitous song–ankh, ankh, ankh…

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Red-winged Blackbirds: Tule Tycoons

Red-winged Blackbird Male

Nearly anywhere in the US, and throughout most of North America, pick your springtime pond or marsh or ditch–any place with a stand of tules or cattails–and you are apt to see and hear red-winged blackbirds. The males perch boldly atop the reeds, their glossy black feathers adorned with large scarlet epaulets, usually fringed in yellow. They sing loudly, a pond-side staple often transcribed as conk-la-ree!

Throughout the winter they congregated in numbers that can reach into the millions, and created in the sky the flowing flocks that have been joined to grand and fluid classical music. Now, come spring, they spread over the nation’s shallow waters and ephemeral cattail patches, bring out their bright feathers, and unleash their song.

The males stake out their breeding territory with both vocals and aggressive policing, vigorously chasing encroaching males for much of each day. Successful males end up sprinkled over their reed-patch perhaps thirty feet apart. Each will breed with a handful of females, sometimes as many as fifteen, who will nest in his territory. For all his energy, however, they do not limit their breeding to this local lord of the manor. Studies indicate that 25%-50% of the young in his fiefdom are sired by different males–either a nearby turf-holder or some landless bird.

The local males marshal to drive off potential predators who wander too close to their nesting grounds, creating vigorous sorties that are thorough-going even if not always discerning. Objects of their harassment regularly include hawks, crows, cats, people, and even horses–anything, it seems of known danger or suspect unfamiliarity.

Red-winged Blackbird Female

For their part, the females maintain a lower profile. Their feathers are brown, with undersides heavily streaked. They build a cup nest low in the reeds, and there they incubate and feed 2-4 young birds, bringing hatchlings from blind and naked to flying in two weeks.

Being widespread, red-winged blackbirds have regional variation in their size and looks. Interestingly, when eggs are relocated to “foreign” variants, the young grow substantially into the forms of their adoptive parents. Regarding these in-species variations, environment seems to affect the growing birds more than their genetics.

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What’s the buzz? Could be a Chipping Sparrow

Chipping Sparrow courtesy David Bogener

Quick! They’re passing through just now, so this is the time: check your feeders, walk your woodlands! The cutest little sparrows of North America are dressed up and on the move!

They’ve been in their winter browns, south of us and down into Mexico. But now the chipping sparrows have donned their red caps and broad white eyebrows. They are flocking up the Sacramento Valley and will nest in the mountains above us and northward far into Canada.

Look in the grasses among the oaks. Like other sparrows, “chippers” have the short, hefty bills designed for eating grass and weed seeds. But look in the trees, too. Insects are hatching out, and traveling sparrows are eager to load up on that high-protein fare.

And listen! Often traveling in small groups the birds keep in touch with one another and tune up for the breeding grounds with their song, a distinctive reedy trill on a single pitch.

A male will use that trill to stake out a breeding turf, usually in an open conifer forest. There he will vigorously chase off encroaching males–just as he will be chased from neighboring territories. Neither males nor females seem finicky about fidelity.

They are attentive parents, however. The female builds the nest, usually on or near the ground. It is a flimsy thing of grasses and soft fibers; it only needs to last about twenty-four days from eggs to fledging–even though the young hatch naked, blind, and weighing just one twentieth of an ounce. After a good start with the first fledglings the male typically continues to tend them while the female starts a second nest.

Chipping sparrows are common in their habitat from coast to coast, and number among the continent’s most numerous species, with population estimates up to 230 million. Still, they are not immune to changes in the world. Like other birds, their numbers have declined by about a third over the last fifty years, and now, like other birds, they are expected to be shifted northward.

There they will meet boreal forests that are being heavily logged for paper products. Efforts to keep the northern forests intact for chipping sparrows, numerous other feathered and furred creatures, and climate stability include consumer information about paper product sourcing. Our purchases impact these birds! Of widely available toilet paper, paper towels, and facial tissue, products from Green Forest consistently get high marks for their high recycled content. A substantial paper-product scorecard is available with an internet search of NRDC’s “The Issue with Tissue.”

Keep their nesting grounds intact, and look today for this red-capped cutie trilling buzzily as it passes through your neighborhood!  It’s a spring treat!

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California Condor – Coming Soon to a Sky Near You

This condor soaring in Zion National Park shows its white wing wedges, its bald head that sheds bacteria, and the number tags that allow the condor recovery team to track their releases.

For some people, there is a hole in the sky, a blank spot. The condor is missing.

When humans first crossed the Bering Strait into North America condors soared widely across the continent. Their fossils have been found along all the coastal regions of the contiguous US. But the megafauna–mastodons, ground sloths, and other giants–began to die off, and the scavengers that likely ate their carcasses also declined. By the time Lewis and Clark sighted condors in the Columbia River gorge in 1805, it appears they lived only from British Columbia down to Baja California. It is likely that marine mammals as well as elk fed these birds. In any case, as pioneers and settlers moved into the area, they dwindled, their range further shrank, and they became known as “California” condors.

Condors are huge. Their wingspan is routinely over nine feet. Their flight habits resemble those of their little cousins, turkey vultures. On spread wings they ride warm columns of air to thousands of feet up. Then they can float for miles and miles, seeking the dead animals below that will make their meals, all without once flapping their airplane wings after the initial labor of getting airborne.

Condors have keen eyesight, but they lack the sense of smell that turkey vultures have. So sometimes the smaller vultures can find a dinner carcass first. But if the hide is too thick, they cannot cut through it, and must await the condor, whose size and power allows it to rip through the tougher hides. Once a carcass is opened, first golden eagles may dine, then condors, and then the other scavengers.

Over the last couple centuries shooting, poisoning, egg-collecting, and harassment brought the number of California condors down to twenty-seven. In a desperate attempt to save them, the US Fish & Wildlife Service captured the last wild condors in 1987 and launched a breeding program that sought to bring them back by protecting them, avoiding inbreeding, and promoting egg-laying.

Condors reproduce slowly. They lay just one egg in a nest, and after two months of incubation the hatchling depends on its parents for at least another six months. With this long fledging period, the parents usually nest only every other year. The captive breeding team successfully doubled population growth by removing the first egg quickly, to be raised by hand.  The mother bird then was likely to lay a second egg, which the condors themselves incubated and raised.
The captive breeding program has been successful, so that now three hundred twenty-four condors are flying free in Arizona and Southern California. And now comes the North State’s turn.

In 2008 the Yurok tribe, centered along the lower Klamath River, began the work of returning the condor, prey-go-neesh by its older name, to North State skies. They collaborated with many groups and agencies, including US Fish and Wildlife, National and State Parks, and the Oregon, Los Angeles, and San Diego Zoos. They evaluated essential elements of habitat. They found that marine and terrestrial wildlife carcasses will likely be available to North State condors. They found that DDT and its related chemicals, which are still produced in South America, are at non-catastrophic levels this far north. They found that lead from ingested bullets could be fatal, and were working with hunters to replace lead bullets when the state banned lead bullets in 2019.

The tribe has also worked to develop their own capacity to acclimate new releases, monitor the birds, and treat them for problems such as lead poisoning.
The birds to be released in the North State will be young, just two years old. They can begin to breed at age seven or eight. The condor lifespan can be upwards of sixty years.  The plan is to release six birds each year for twenty years.

If there is a hole in our sky, the condors will begin to fill it this spring. The first two birds are slated to be released this April or May. Look skyward for updates!

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