Subject: montlake fill bird census, friday, 2 july 1999 (LONG!)
Date: Jul 2 16:26:23 1999
From: Deborah Wisti-Peterson - nyneve at u.washington.edu



hello tweets.

today, the montlake fill was cloudy, cool, humid day (not exactly
my favorite weather for running through the mud!). the moist air
was filled with a cacaphony of bird songs, alarm and contact notes,
almost like attending the orchestra and hearing all the different
instruments as they are tuned up while particularly difficult portions
of the upcoming symphony are reviewed by individuals. i think that
the montlake fill was as loud today as i've ever heard it.

the main reason for the din was the explosion of bird numbers,
particularly swallows. today's lesson for the fledgling swallows
was how to drink water on the wing without drowning. the parents
repeated the lesson many times, calling loudly to their brand-new
puff-ball chickies that decorated thin tree branches, like marshmallows
on a stick. the chickies cheered their parents on, with loud chirps
of their own.

nearby, great blue herons croaked loudly, while sparrows sang their
love songs with great zeal. i followed a small puff-ball chickie around
the bushes surrounding the dime-lot pond, trying to get a good look
at him. suddenly, an adult common yellowthroat popped out of the
bushes and sputtered loudly at me from several feet away, flittering
its wings and staring me in the eyes. i realized that my feet were
becoming wet, yet again, with over-fertile swamp water, so i moved
on to drier pastures. (i can still smell the aroma of my favorite
swamp while i sit here and write this report to you all. i hope that
all my friends forgive me.)

as i walked away from the dime-lot pond, i startled a female wood
duck, who called out in her wistful, lovely voice, before quickly
disappearing into the brush.

i was surprised to find two least and two western sandpipers feeding
on shores of the central pond. i assume these birds are early southward
migrants, because they clearly are adults in breeding plumage. these
birds were quite shy and easily hid in the two-feet-tall purple
loosestrife. and speaking of purple loosestrife, i am appalled at
how quickly it grows. it ranges in height from several inches to three
feet in height in some places, and it is starting to flower. i spent
about half an hour pulling it up, even though my hand surgeon would
probably cringe if he knew. i must say that it is quite depressing
to see the once-clear muddy shores of all the ponds at montlake (so
favored by the many shorebirds that i so love to see) becoming
obscured once again by this noxious weed. i am so frustrated that i
want to rent a weed-wacker and give these weeds a good buzz-cut
this weekend.

there is at least one other person who pulls purple loosestrife at
the fill, because i see the cleared-out areas and the dead heaps of
weeds, evil roots pointing at the sky like claws. i pull my share
of weeds next to these cleared-out areas, too, but my still-healing
wrist protests mightily, so i am not as efficient and my weed-piles
don't look as dead as they should.

the most interesting bird sighting was the lone osprey that was
perched in the beaver trees or flying over union bay, looking for
lunch. an adult bald eagle later flew up and reclaimed her favorite
perch, both birds arguing loudly. the osprey remained in the
area, protesting the eagles presence occasionally.

my favorite bird sighting was the sora. i have heard soras calling
often at the fill, but i finally saw my first sora today, as i was
squishing my way through the mud across the water from canoe island.
the sora saw me, first, and flew up about thirty feet in front of
me, flew over the iris, long legs trailing, and plopped down and out
of sight into the shallow water.

unusual birds were the singing (but not seen) golden-crowned sparrow
-- do other birds mimic this bird's lovely song? -- and, what i am
almost certain was a female orange bishop, or maybe a male in
non-breeding plumage. i got very close and i know this species well,
from captive specimens. i wonder if one of last year's escapees was
able to survive the winter?

i was out for an hour and a half (1100am-1230pm) and counted 49 (51?)
species of birds, total. my bird list follows for those who might be
interested;

pied-billed grebe
great blue heron
mute swan
canada goose
wood duck, 1 female on dime-lot pond
mallard
gadwall
northern shoveler
bufflehead, 1 female
osprey, 1
bald eagle, 1
ring-necked pheasant
california quail
sora! one flew up from the iris right in front of me!
american coot
killdeer
western sandpiper, 2
least sandpiper, 2
glaucous-winged gull
caspian tern, 2
rock dove
vaux's swift, 2+
anna's hummingbird
northern (red-shafted) flicker
downy woodpecker
willow flycatcher
american crow
tree swallow
violet-green swallow
cliff swallow
barn swallow
black-capped chickadee
bushtit
bewick's wren
marsh wren
american robin
european starling
cedar waxwing
yellow warbler
wilson's warbler
common yellowthroat
savannah sparrow
song sparrow
white-crowned sparrow
red-winged blackbird
brown-headed cowbird
house finch
american goldfinch
house (english) sparrow

i'm not 100% sure about it avian list;

orange bishop, 1 female
singing golden-crowned sparrow (does any bird mimic this species?)

non-avian list;

turtles everywhere
frogs, unknown species
bumblebees, two species
ladybugs, at least three species
tiger swallowtail butterfly
mourning cloak (or a close relative) butterfly

regards,

Deborah Wisti-Peterson email:nyneve at u.washington.edu
Department of Zoology, University of Washington, Seattle, Wash, USA
Visit me on the web: http://students.washington.edu/~nyneve/
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