Having friends and relatives visit gives me an excuse to visit some scenic parts of New England, even some right here in town. On a recent tour of Harvard with my sister, who was visiting from England, we stopped at the Fruitlands overlook for the view. I pointed out Mt. Wachusett and selfishly proposed a visit there, as I knew it was hawk migration time. So that became another destination during her visit. Unfortunately, when we got there, the winds were from the wrong direction and there was not a hawk in sight, although we did see a couple of turkey vultures soaring in the thermals.
Another beautiful New England spot is the Parker River Wildlife Refuge on Plum Island. My sister had never been, so I floated the idea of spending an afternoon there. As readers of this column know, this is one of my favorite birding spots, which, in addition to birds, offers incredible vistas across the marshes, especially in the late afternoon when the setting sun dramatically enhances all the colors in the landscape.
The birds were not particularly active on the day we went, but we walked out onto one of the levees and sat down on a bench overlooking a salt water impoundment. We saw the usual selection of egrets, black ducks, sandpipers, and other shore birds. We also saw two large unfamiliar shorebirds wading in shallow water nearby. I thought they were willets, but they looked larger and somehow different. I had left my field guide in the car, so was unable to identify them in my usual way. As luck would have it, several other birders started gathering around us, looking at these same birds, drawn there, we discovered later, by a posting on the reserve noting the recent rare sighting of a Hudsonian godwit and a marbled godwit. The other birders confirmed that it was the godwits we were looking at, feeding not 100 feet from us. These were life birds for me.
The Hudsonian godwit breeds in the Arctic and migrates to South America as far south as Argentina. The marbled godwit breeds on the northern Great Plains and also summers in South America. Because they are relatively rare visitors to this area, birders tend to flock to reported sightings.
Feeder action: a lull at some, a flurry at others
I have had several calls from readers over the past few weeks inquiring as to why there have been few or no birds at their feeders. This may be a lull in activity, when some of the migrants have moved south and others from the north, such as juncos, have not yet arrived. Another reason might be the abundance of natural food this year, such as berries, weed seeds, and acorns, plentiful because of the rains of spring and summer. The birds will return to our feeders, taking advantage of our hospitality and giving us the pleasure of watching them.
One reader told me about a different problem. The board of a local condominium association has banned feeders on its property because, according to a notice from the board, they had “seen an unusual amount of bird activity, resulting in a significant increase in bird droppings and dead birds throughout the complex, as well as complaints about birds nesting in the attics of a number of units.” The last paragraph in the notice said that “While this action will not eliminate birds from our area, it will not upset the natural balance by adding ‘artificial attractions’ and is taken in the best interest of all residents.” None of the board’s decisions took into consideration the pleasure that bird-watching gives many people. If one is not able to get out and walk, attracting birds to a feeder close to one’s house can be one of the bright spots of the day.
I think that the board should take a look at what the building of this complex—in what had been open fields that attracted many bird species—did to the “natural balance” of this area. One of the greatest threats to birds and other wildlife is habitat loss. The more we can do to improve habitat—whether by not using chemicals on our lawns and fields, by planting native shrubs and bushes that sustain wildlife (rather than cultivating barren lawns), and by providing nesting spaces (even if it is the attic!)—the better off our planet will be, not only for ourselves and our children, but also for those creatures who were here long before us.
David Durrant lives with his wife, Pamela, on East Bare Hill Road at Micheldever Farm, where they watch birds—their own peacocks, chickens, and wild birds
