The Birds of the Bog-A Spring Inventory

After missing much of April at the Bog, it was good to return last week to see what had happened in my absence. Who had come, who had gone, and again, if only they signed some sort of attendance sheet, accuracy in this department would be much easier. But they don’t, so I will just have to rely on what I happened to see on those early morning walks, and assume, even more things are going on unseen.

Phoebe had returned before I left. They are early arrivals in our spring and, although I always compare their voice to a guttural New “Joisey”, sort of affair (something someone from New Jersey took offense at; OK, an inner city Philly voice then)they are a welcome sight and sound after winter. But now, a few of their cousins in the Flycatcher family: Kingbirds and the Great Crested Flycatcher, have joined them.


Same guttural, family voice, but you want to talk inner-city tough? That would be the Kingbird, Latin name, Tyrannus, tyrannus, for good reason. When they are defending their territory in nesting time you don’t want to mess with them. Oddly though, they will tolerate many other similar sized birds near the nest. However, let an Owl, Hawk or Crow pass through, or over their territory (as much as 100’ over!) with nothing but peace and good will on their mind, and the Kingbird launches an assault that would make a WWI Dog fighting pilot proud. They fly above the larger bird, diving down on them, sometimes even landing on them, and will continue this even when they are way beyond the bounds of their territory. “Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?” is not in their psyche. Picking on things 10X their size is. So they are back, and the sentinel crows that are at the edge of the bog had better watch their backs, literally.

The mated Kingbirds aren’t all roses and poetry either. The male arrives first, drives off all other male Kingbirds from his territory, and then when the female Kingbird arrives, in his enthusiastic belligerence, he drives her off too. Eventually, something kicks in, that lets him know the species won’t last long if this continues and he gets a little warmer in his welcome. In her turn, the female, once she starts laying eggs, won’t let him anywhere near the nest either. She accepts no help, doesn’t want any little, tasty, caterpillars offered in romance, can handle this herself, thank you. Until finally, all the little tyrannus’s are hatched and begging for food 24/7. Then the reason for a mate becomes more apparent to her and she allows him to be part of the family.


Great Crested Flycatchers are also back and giving their loud “Wheeeep” call from obvious perches. They are so large and so loud and so apparent, that they can make a beginning birdwatcher feel like a pro. We need more birds like that. Warblers could learn a thing or two from the Flycatchers. I don’t even try with them. Except the Pine Warbler, who has been back for awhile. It has a musical trill that sounds a lot like a chipping sparrow, only slightly lovelier and it is, this is the best part, coming from the pines. They are so good at sticking to pines just the way their name implies that if you are in pines and you hear that, you can be pretty sure of who the singer is.

Oh my, we still have green herons, catbirds, skirmishing chickadees and a Lonely Heart Club, Mallard and Canada Goose to discuss, but you perhaps need to go stir the soup, or burp the baby, or assist at brain surgery. Tell you what, you go do what you need to do, and I will prattle on and print Part II of this tomorrow. Agreed? Agreed. Until tomorrow then.