Hey tweets, Yesterday is but a memory, and don't you just hate people who
say you should have been here then? They are topped (bottomed?) only by the
people who say you should have been here 15 minutes ago. I'm in the first
category, sorry to say. Yes, the Fill was absolutely glorious yesterday. I
didn't get out there until late afternoon, so I thought I'd miss all the
sparrows. Not so. The day started off with an exceptionally bold SONG
SPARROW rooting around in the grass near the Wedding Rock. A FOX SPARROW was
taking a mud puddle bath near the brambles just south. I didn't see the
Lincoln's sparrow that I know lives in the same area, but not to worry. Two
(!) LINCOLN'S showed up later: one in the cottonwoods at the point (where
the golden-crowned sparrows are still making a living - look for them in the
narrow path between the two stands of bramble bushes just north of the dead
beaver trees); and one in a big pile of brush over by the secluded pond near
the earth-moving parking lot (on the north side of Wahkiakum Lane). I almost
never go over there, but yesterday I did. Not only was there a Lincoln's
sparrow and a BEWICK'S WREN perched on the brush, but in the grassy fields
nearby, there was a flock of at least 21 AMERICAN PIPITS. They were
fantastic, strolling through the tall grass, occasionally leaping up and
singing their liquid song, and then joining together in one flock to fly to
another stand of grass.

Their appearance would have been THE highlight of the day, except perhaps
for the two DUNLINS in breeding plumage that showed up on the main pond. Or
maybe the highlight was the YELLOW-SHAFTED FLICKER flashing his yellow
shafts on one sapling after another, also on the main pond. He was
accompanied by an intergrade flicker, halfway between yellow and red, so
comparison was easy. Of course, many would say the real highlight was the
scores of COMMON MERGANSERS on the bay, along with four female HOODED
MERGANSERS (where were the males?), numerous GREATER SCAUPS and a few
LESSERS and RING-NECKED.

My favorite, though, was not a bird but birdsong. We learned last Wednesday
that our final exam for the year in our master birder class is going to have
a birdsong component. I am sure to flunk. I simply cannot remember birdsong
(or peoplesong, for that matter). I'm not exactly tone deaf, although I do
have trouble telling whether one note is higher or lower than another. I
just don't seem to have the neurons in the ol' gray cells to process song
info. We've had two two-hour classes on birdsongs, and they did me no good
whatsoever. When the speakers played examples and asked us to identify the
singers, most of the time I couldn't even get the birds into the right
family. I'm lucky to make phylum (insects have songs too, you know). So I've
been out tuning my ear, and yesterday there certainly was plenty to hear.
Among the birdsongs I did manage to identify were some Steller's jays (I'd
love to find their nest someday), a male pheasant, and a roseate spoonbill
(okay, maybe it was a Bewick's wren - I've discovered that if I just say
Bewick's wren, I'm right at least 20 percent of the time). I'm doomed.
Still, taking the class has encouraged me to at least try to listen to
songs. So I stood for ten minutes under the dead beaver trees and listened
to the tree swallows singing to each other. I think they're vying for the
limited number of nest holes in the snags, so that keeps them vocalizing
almost constantly. Their song is a kind of liquid-y set of disorganized
notes, more chatting than singing. It was beautiful to hear - although I
must admit I wouldn't necessarily recognize it if I heard it again. If any
of the master birder teachers are reading this, please don't put tree
swallows on the test! - Connie, Seattle

csidles at isomedia.com