Rarities appear as summer heats up

Editor’s note: The change in publication schedule meant we hadn’t received Sarah Morris’ column by deadline, so we’re bringing you this one from July 2020. We’ll be back with new columns next week.

As the recent weather has made clear, July is here and isn’t being bashful about it. As we get further into the summer, bird-watching opportunities taper off as avian couples finish raising their families and lay off announcing their territories and trying to attract their mates.

A number of the spring birds I’ve observed and written about this year are already elusive again. The orioles and rose-breasted grosbeaks aren’t singing any more (and sadly, didn’t raise any young near me so I don’t see their families at my feeders) and the woodcocks whose mating flights were incessant from April to early June have gone quiet. But before we enter the late-summer birding lull, there are still all kinds of midsummer birds out doing their business. Here’s what we’re seeing south of Ashland and out in the woods.

The robins that made their nest inside of our old tractor finally coaxed the last of three nestlings out into the world last week. The babies grew very quickly and weren’t hassled by our local crows and wandering cats. The house wrens who made a nest in one of the bluebird houses fledged their babies just in time, because the young bear who meanders into the yard attempted to knock over the house shortly after they all left. (It managed to bend the metal pole nearly double but the house is still intact!)

The parents are busy working on their second brood, but it looks like they’ve made their nest in the pine trees right behind the birdhouse. A family of tree swallows is once again in another bluebird house, but after two years of attempts we finally have a pair of actual bluebirds nesting in the house on top of a tree stump. They’re a fearless pair and the male sings from on our roof or at the tip-top of a pine tree for much of the day.

My friends the catbirds that I wrote about last week are all over the place, and the male who hangs out at the end of the driveway has successfully managed to imitate a robin’s song. You do have to listen carefully to recognize it but I’m proud of him. The white-throated sparrows with their clear calls were quiet for a few weeks but have started up again, but I don’t see them at my feeders any more so there must be plenty of natural grub for them. Right now most of my feeder visitors are goldfinches and red-winged blackbirds.

There are a number of veerys to the south of my house who fill the evening air with their “You just lost a game of Pac-Man”-sounding song. A pair of mourning doves has for some reason decided to spend most of their time hanging out with our chicken flock. And to my delight, the neighborhood pair of green herons comes through every morning like clockwork.

There are quite a few birds you can hear now but don’t see as much with the summer foliage. The ones I’m hearing most frequently are common yellowthroats and song sparrows, but if you live in more mature forest they’ll be less common. The song sparrows have been singing nonstop since there was still snow on the ground, and these energetic birds are usually singing away at first light every morning.

Red-eyed vireos are still everywhere especially in the morning and evening. Out in the woods, the ovenbirds and black-throated green warblers will still be singing for another couple of weeks. The local phoebes are finishing up their nesting and have gone quiet, and I don’t seem to be hearing many of the other flycatchers much this summer. I’m still hearing and seeing plenty of woodpeckers around the neighborhood, with a male hairy woodpecker being the most frequent visitor.

The really cool part is that for the first time I’m hearing a couple of real rarities out in the yard: both a yellow-billed and an even more scarce black-billed cuckoo. I’ve never seen either of these elusive birds but the black-billed’s “coo-coo-coo” call is unmistakable. The yellow-billed cuckoo usually has a beeping song, but this one makes a call I hadn’t heard before, a “kowp-kowp-kowp” sound. Both species of cuckoo are caterpillar eaters and I hope they’ve managed to take out some of the tent caterpillars before they get into our trees.

Sarah Morris is a bird-watcher and outdoorswoman who explores northern Wisconsin from her home base in the town of Gingles. She can be reached at morrisoutside@gmail.com.