At dawn this morning  the swallows were sailing far above my head twisting and rising, then gliding. As the glides slowed, the birds would speed through the air again with a rapid series of wing flaps

I think they were Barn Swallows but they were flying so high before sunrise that I couldn't ID the species for sure.  Could have been Chimney Swifts.

I wondered what they were doing as they soared and turned so rapidly. Were they feeding?  Do insects fly ten stories up in the air? Or, were they just feeling perky this morning and airing out their wings?

I'm sitting here on a bench in the middle of an urban area and watching bird behavior.  It's amazing that many species of birds --including the swallows-- are not only surviving but thriving within the concrete jungle we call home.

I read yesterday in the Chicago Tribune (August 24, 2013) that an entire colony of Night Herons have set up a rookery on a small island on a pond in Lincoln Park, our downtown oasis of green. Night Herons are on the Illinois endangered species list which makes this even more remarkable.

In the '60s it was feared that there would be little wildlife left in and around the big cities. Our life style requires cutting down trees, eliminating bushes, spraying with pesticides and paving just about everything in sight.

The deer don't care; they live in Chicago's forest preserves and parks. The coyotes go about their predation right in our front yards (Beware, poochies!) Beaver in the Chicago River climb up on shore and cut down the succulent tree plantings of the Park District..

And, birds nest and produce new generations when we aren't looking. Suddenly the birds are there, swooping and making fantastic turns in the morning sky.





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The Silence of the Birds.

The birds were silent this morning. Yes, I know, it's late August, far beyond the nesting time for the Midwest's bird population. It's one of the signs, though, of declining summer.

Some of the seasonal birds are already gone --I haven't seen or heard a warbler in awhile.  Even the cardinals are taking a break.  The sparrows, however, chirp now and then to let me know that they are still here.

Fifty years ago Rachel Carson wrote a blockbuster book, "Silent Spring."  Insecticides and other
intrusions of modern society, would, she said, decimate the great song bird populations.  There would be no more Spring song in the meadows because there would be no more birds. Even America's national symbol, the Bald Eagle, would disappear from the skies.

Because environmental awareness was a new idea in those days, her book was a breath of fresh air for many of us.  We began to listen more carefully for bird song and look more intently to bird populations. As a nation we began to wake up and pay attention to the environment.

Largely because of Rachel Carson, DDT was banished as an insecticide. DDT inhibited viable egg production, especially among Bald Eagles which were placed on the endangered species list. Though the DDT link is still disbelieved by many, the Bald Eagle population has recovered. Recently, I noticed a pair of eagles perched in a tree as I was sitting at breakfast at my sister's home near St. Charles along the Fox River.

In six months Spring will be back and so will the songs. This morning's silence just makes me yearn more intently for the concert.


 

When God Sends a Singing Bird.

"Keep a green bough in your heart and God will send their a singing bird."

I received that little piece of advice thirty years ago and I've tried to remember it during tough times.
A birthday card brought these words to me and I kept the card for a long time. The card may be gone but the sentiment rests somewhere in my soul where the good things go.

But, wait! There's more!

My sister had suffered a stroke which threatened her life. It was in deep winter as I drove down to Southern Illinois to be with my brother-in-law at this difficult time. I was feeling depressed --there is no other word for it. I was sitting in the cold one morning on the porch of my sister's house praying morning prayer when a Song Sparrow flew into a tree right in front of me and sang...and sang.

Song Sparrows have a short but cheery song. Just what I needed. I can identify a Song Sparrow and its vocalizaions because I spent the better part of a year working on a research paper for my degree in Biology on that species..  My subject was the bird I was hearing on the back porch of my sister's house in late December when I was ready to cave-in with anxiety. Song Sparrows don't sing in Winter. This one did.  I know the sparrow was sent to me to make things easier for me and to remind me to hope.

Early January, another year, bitter cold, a death in the family and I'm getting ready for Sunday Mass in the parking lot of a suburban parish. It's a cloudless sky as the sun, so far away begins to rise.   This time there is a cardinal, bright red, singing from the top of the tree right in front of me.  Quite early for this species to be singing and setting up territory on that frigid morning.  But, that was what he was doing. I took his presence as a harbinger of God's presence.

Birds come unbidden and in surprising ways into my life and they bring me hope.  Right now I've brought out a green bough and it waits confidently for another singing bird.

The Quetzal, the magnificent bird of Central America

Indigenous peoples of Central America had high regard for the elegant Quetzal whose graceful long back feathers reach down its back forming what looks like a wonderfully long tail. The species is colorful and has a distinctive song which is easy to hear in the cloud forest of Costa Rica. Hearing it is one thing, seeing it, another. The bird may not be rare but it sure is elusive.

I'll bet birders (Those who work on tallying a life lists of birds they have seen.) come from all over, and pay a lot of cash just hoping to see one of these legendary birds.

Recently, I spent nearly two weeks in the Monteverde region of Costa Rica and was fortunate enough to see two individuals at two different sites. One was a male, the other a female. Most people only have two or three days to wander the cloud forest. I was lucky enough to have had much more time plus a guide who led me to a nesting area. On my own, I would never have discovered this wonderful bird.

 The foliage was dense and it was misty but my photo gives you some idea of the beauty of this bird.

Aztec rulers wore Quetzal feathers in their headdresses and appeared before their people arrayed in the dramatic plumage of  this marvelous bird.

The Aztec chief god was Quetzalcoatl,a who sometimes was illustrated as a feathered serpent.  The feathers, of course, were from Quetzals.

It is an amazing thing that this bird has survived and still lives in the forests of Costa Rica and other Central American countries. I am blessed to have seen and heard them.

 

My Experience with Pale-Billed Woodpeckers and Quetzals in Costa Rica.

A Male Pink-Billed Woodpecker in Costa Rica.
(GWatt, copyright)

 Recently in Costa Rica I saw a bird so striking in its beauty that it is still hard for me to believe it exists.  No, I’m not talking about the spectacular Quetzal of the Cost Rican cloud forests, though I saw them on two different occasions.  I’m Talking about the Pale-Billed Woodpecker of Costa Rica.

I didn’t even know the species existed until a pair of these giant woodpeckers sailed over my head and landed in a huge dead tree.

Yes, I know this blog is suppose to be about Mid-Western wildlife, but it is the experience that I am about to describe to you that renewed my interest in wild birds.  Two weeks in the cloud forest of Costa Rica was a real inspiration: Thus this bird story.

The Pale-Billed Woodpecker is the largest woodpecker in Costa Rica.  It grows to 37 centimeters (15 inches). Although the crest of the female is black, the male has a bright-red face, neck and crest.  Along with white stripes on each side of its back on a black background, the Pale-Billed Woodpecker is a study in contrasts of white, black and red.   The abdomen has striated striping which appears to be brown or rust-colored.

 Long ago I had observed and studied the American Pileated Woodpecker of the mature hard wood forests of the U.S. At first, I thought my two bird were that species.  The Pink-Billed looks like the Pileated but the head of the male is entirely red, not simply the crest. 

Each morning two of these large magnificent birds would fly over where I was sitting to tap-tap their way up and down and around the trunk of a large, dead tree nearby. Both male and female came quietly most mornings. I never heard vocalizations but their double tap is as distinctive as a call.