ABA Blog

Who Else Likes My Brush Pile?

A couple of weeks ago, I extolled the virtues of my back yard brush pile.  I find myself surveilling the structure nearly every day breakfast, and last week was tickled to see a Red Fox effortlessly hop my 5-foot fence as I enjoyed toast and coffee.  It was clearly well-practiced at the ambush, probably hoping for a distracted squirrel, careless bird, or lingering mouse but on this morning the critters at the pile took shelter and the fox moved on after showing off its balancing prowess by strolling along the top of the fence by way of departure.  Curious to learn more about what besides birds may be visiting my brush pile, I deployed a motion-activated trail camera to keep 24-hour vigil when I wasn't watching for myself out the kitchen window.

In the short time I've been keeping track, I've found the fox to visit almost every day, at about any time though not yet mid-day. I'll bet it has come away successful at least once and so keeps trying, though I've yet to capture a capture on my trail cam.  

Hmmm, why is this squirrel in a hurry to be elsewhere??

Oh, that's why..

The fox knows when the gig is up, though, and breaks off the chase (though no doubt remembers the details to adjust its strategy the next time.)

Maybe a dawn raid?

No good.

Pre-dawn might be good for mice...

Besides the fox, I've seen a few other night visitors.  One, though unwelcome, triggered two interesting frames...

One night this fat cat swung by the pile.  I've never seen it during the day, but it underscores the benefit of the brush pile as nearby cover for feeding birds.  It also forces an errant cat to approach from the open ground in front of the brush pile, denying it the element of surprise.  Now what is the cat looking up at on this brisk night?

 

A second later, the cat is looking nearly straight up.  Right under the numerals 3/5 at top center (which means frame 3 of 5 in the sequence), note a gray blur that isn't there in the first frame- click to enlarge both cat pics and you'll see it.  I believe this is a wingtip of an owl flushed by the cat and if so, the worst photo I've ever acquired of a strigiform.  

Squirrels have the daytime clean-up concession, but at night sometimes a Raccoon will see what spilled seed is left to mop up. Cylindrical baffles like the one visible on the left pole keep both grounded, leaving the feeders to those that can fly in (though I'm sure the fox could jump up if desired.)

Brushing Up

Earlier this fall, I had an ash tree that needed some pruning back.  One cut led to another, and soon I had a daunting pile of limbs, branches, and twigs to deal with.  I lopped the bigger stuff into campfire wood (local use only, wouldn't want to inadvertently spread Emerald Ash Borers...) and chopped a bunch of the leftovers up into mulch using my chipper/shredder.  But in a perfect blend of putting off work while helping birds, I heaped the rest into a pile behind my feeder array.

My winter brush pile, providing cover near my feeder array and keeping the photo opps coming!

 A brush pile gives birds a place to stage as they come out to feed and offers a quick retreat from predators such as accipiters- the National Wildlife Federation includes this as an idea to create cover for improving backyard wildlife habitat. Some species of birds just don't like to be out in the open, and having the brush pile around increases the chance of seeing these skulkers.  I have a big permanent brush pile beyond the more manicured part of my yard for birds to roost or take cover in, but in the winter feeding season I plan to maintain the smaller pile by the feeders, with my photo blind set up nearby to take advantage of the birds that visit.  So far this fall I have already reaped the dividend of a couple of new yard birds and some fun photos- thanks, brush pile!!

 

I love raptors, and Sharp-shinned Hawks like this youngster always liven up my day when they patrol the feeders.  This guy was playing the waiting game with birds in the brush and in my spruces, completely intent on their scuttling deep in the cover and trying to figure out how to successfully get at them.  A brush pile gives small birds cover from predators, but a sharpie won't shy at following birds right into the brush pile or thick spruce boughs if it thinks it has a chance. 

 

    

Eurasian Collared-Doves scatter up instead of into cover.  This can be a bad move when an experienced Cooper's Hawk is sharing their airspace, as evidenced by this adult enjoying a plump exotic columbid dinner atop a neighboring building.  Don't worry- despite the intentions of my Super Cooper Troopers I've still got plenty of EuroDos around.

 

Junco diversity in the west is pretty sweet.  I've had all of the Dark-eyed Junco subspecies in my yard, and having a brush pile increases their numbers and length of their stay.  Here a Pink-sided Junco looks for stray seeds in frosty thyme, a few hops away from shelter under the tangle of branches.

 

My favorite junco, a spanking White-winged Junco, makes an appearance in the brush pile late last month.

 

As I scrambled to unobtrusively switch off my focus limiter, the White-winged Junco hopped towards me, unaware or uncaring as I snapped away from my photo blind just a few meters away.

 

Last weekend  on a lazy morning I scanned the brush pile from our kitchen window after an overnight basting of snow.  Much to my surprise and delight, a big white-bellied immature Harris's Sparrow was working in and out of the branches with the mix of more common birds.

 

As some of my birding buddies from across the pond might say, What a Stonker!!

Thompson and Toops: Hummingbirds and Butterflies

So who are those 48 million wildlife watchers out there?

The question may be as tongue-in-cheek as the figure is absurd, but it still needs to be asked. Who are all those birders out there who are not ABA members, who don’t contribute to their local listervers or to NAB—and what are they reading?

I hope they’re reading such beautifully produced and gently informative books as Bill Thompson and Connie Toops’s Hummingbirds and Butterflies, a Peterson (Backyard) Field Guide full of beautiful photos, pithy advice, and interesting facts that will capture, but not tax, the attention of those enthusiasts whose enthusiasm stops at the garden gate.

As its title suggests, the book is divided almost equally into two sections, each comprising an introduction to the group of organisms under discussion, detailed pointers on how to observe and attract them, and species accounts (with portraits and range maps) for 15 hummingbirds and some three dozen butterflies. The authors’ prose is simple and inviting, and many readers will be grateful for their pausing to define anything approaching a technical term, such as “ecology.”

Errors and infelicities are very few. I’m not sure how the hummingbirds on page 17 were sexed, and treating the gorget and throat as synonymous (20) is a mistake: some hummingbirds lack gorgets, but all, it seems to me, have throats. I was sorry and surprised to see the canard about identifying birds from front to back repeated here; hummingbirds, with their often species-specific wing/tail ratios, are famously among those many groups that should be approached a tergo. The bibliography’s omission of Steve Howell’s photographic guide is simply unfathomable. But these are the complaints of a birder, and not one in a thousand of the readers of this book will be bothered by any of the flies in an otherwise very well-prepared ointment.

As a birder, I learned more from the butterfly section of the book. I already knew “the recipe,” speaking of well-prepared ointments, but the simple and beautiful feeder depicted on page 151 is already making me look forward to setting one up, and the 36 pages of suggested native plants (neatly grouped by geography) are going to come in very handy on our return to the east coast this fall.

While the book’s hummingbird section is able to treat all of the US and Canada’s common species, comprehensiveness is obviously out of reach for the butterflies. The solution is a happy one: the book introduces nine groups of “kindred” species, letting even tyros narrow their choices at a glance. The 35 or so common species accorded individual treatment all have large ranges, some nearly continent-wide, others widespread in the east or in the west.

Who are those 48 million? They’re the birders and butterfliers who will keep this book on the windowsill or in the sunroom, sharing it—and the pleasure it brings—with their children and grandchildren (242). I can’t think of a better way to spend a warm summer’s afternoon.