Our resident hummingbirds headed out early this year, with the adults vanishing two weeks before Labor Day. The youngsters hung around a few more weeks after that, desperate to drain the feeders once more before beginning their long journey southward.
Steve was filling one of the feeders outside Farmstead Creamery when he remarked, “There’s still a male out there, but its throat is orange.”
Instead of the typical ruby-pink throats, this was a male rufus hummingbird traveling through. They summer in the Great Plains, but sometimes their migration path veers east before heading south.
Even now, one or two juvenile hummingbirds refresh themselves at the feeders each morning, though we’ve noticed that they have unique behavioral patterns. These are some of the late stragglers from parts further north, stopping at the watering hole of the farm.
It seems all the birds know, as if we’ve been added to the secret bird migration map as an oasis stop on the long trip, just as Farmstead Creamery is marked as a stop for the cross-country bicyclers that take the northern route east to west or west to east. When they swing by, laden with their packs and gear, we hear incredible stories about how far they’ve come, why they chose this year for such an adventure and where they’re headed next.
The avian migrators have their own such journey stories, though they seem to be a bit more secretive about them. Just how many are moving through can be nearly mind-blowing! The website www.birdcast.info is an incredible resource for seeing where the migrations are happening and what species are most on the move. Today, the site indicates that 414 million birds will be migrating in the country tonight, with Wisconsin lighting up in white as a hot spot for most migration as the birds follow the cold front behind the rains we had recently. This information is powered by weather radar detection. In my county, 1,150,600 birds crossed over last night, many soaring at 1,200 feet but some as high as 10,000 feet up in the air. In the morning, they land to rest and feast, then tonight they will begin again. Species include flickers, warblers, sparrows, nighthawks and more.
The first night of the nighthawks, we saw them. They are so silent, you never hear them, and they arrive at dusk. Mom and Kara were checking the length of the hay in the south field when they looked up to see a swarm of pointy-winged birds like overgrown swallows darting and dashing. The distinctive white bands on their wings showed that these were indeed nighthawks, which prey on insects. The openness of the field paired with our biodynamic practices that forgo using pesticides meant that the feast was on. It was incredible to watch their agile flight.
Yesterday morning, the fruit-laden wild chokecherry bushes in the barnyard were full of chirping and flitting as flickers and cedar waxwings feasted themselves. It was a bumper chokecherry year, and we had picked plenty for making jam, leaving the rest for these hungry migrators. For them, the chokecherries were a welcome oasis after a long flight.
We all know to watch for the Vs of Canada geese as they noisily honk by, but many of these species migrate at night, high up in the air. It would be easy to miss seeing them unless they had reason to land and refuel at the farm.
So far, our resident sandhill cranes have stayed on, but I know it is likely that they too will be moving on very soon. A few migrators have stopped to visit, calling and whooping it up as they socially negotiate with the residents. The most incredible crane migration moment we witnessed was in the south field a few years ago. The pair of cranes that reside in the south field had raised a chick, but it had been born late (second try?). It was still noticeably smaller than the adults.
Over the autumn days, cranes had come to assemble in the south field. More and more came, calling and strutting. In unison, they would fly up in an arch and then come back to land in the field. The chick would stand there, watching them go up and come back down. They would do it again, and the chick would watch all those wings and legs and red heads with long beaks ascend into the air and then come back to land.
Eventually, one of those times the chick flew with them, and then they all left together. It was incredible to witness! Unlike some of the migrators where the adults leave first and the children have to take the journey on their own (like the loons or the hummingbirds), these cranes wanted to stick together as a family for the long trip ahead.
Being an oasis for them on that journey gives us a unique opportunity to witness these special moments in this season of transition. I wonder who will be flitting about and feasting this morning after a long night flight. See you down on the farm sometime.
Local News
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