May is such a glorious month. The world is awash in the green of new leaves, the sky is Carolina blue and full of birds, some courting mates and building nests, others winging their way north to their breeding grounds.
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North Carolina's glorious redbird was named the cardinal after the red robes and hats of Roman Catholic prelates. Another bird of stunning beauty also owes its name to church garb. With a bright yellow head and blue wings, it reminded Louisiana residents of the yellow-hooded robes of papal clerks called protonatarii; thus, the prothonotary warbler. For pronunciation, emphasis can be on the second or third syllable.
The first thing to get your attention is a high-pitched, wheezy call. It's repeated every few seconds and the sound helps you zero in on its origin. But you'll have to look carefully to pick it out among the tree leaves. Fortunately, the wheezy calls continue until you finally see a tiny bird bouncing among the branches.
Spring bird migration has started. In the next few weeks, millions, perhaps billions, of birds will be moving north along the Atlantic Flyway and other migratory corridors.
The Christmas Bird Count is a 112-year-old Audubon Society tradition, and one that I've participated in for nearly 40 years. Each year, I try to join four or five counts in Northwest North Carolina, including Forsyth County, New River and Mount Jefferson.
The United States has been invaded.
Following the logic when life gives you lemons, make lemonade, Forsyth Audubon long ago decided to take the worst of our winter weather and turn it into an adventure.
Picture a fallow cornfield or shallow lake this time of year. Now picture them covered with large, white birds moving about as they feed. Or maybe they are just sleeping peacefully on the water. Each year, thousands of tundra swans migrate to winter refuges in eastern North Carolina. I just returned from a birding trip to the Outer Banks. The swans were a sight to behold.
The floor of the forest clearing exploded with a dozen gray bits of matter shooting out in all directions. Flashes of white told me it was a flock of juncos. But what had frightened them into fleeing?
"Hon, I'm off to the sewage-treatment plant."
With the onset of cooler weather, the bird feeders hanging outside my window are seeing a lot more action.
Have you ever seen a swimming chicken?
Just 37 shopping days until Christmas and I've got some ideas for your list.
Lena Gallitano was riding her bicycle along a Raleigh greenway. An avid birder, Gallitano was listening to the birds sing as she pedaled. The birds were quite vocal since they were just starting their nesting season.
"…an odd subculture in our midst."
"I saw a rose-breasted grosbeak at my feeder today."
The fascination with birds and birding is usually an evolutionary process. It starts with putting up a bird feeder. Then you buy a pair of binoculars. And before you know it, you're planning a trip to Outer Mongolia, where you'll sleep in a yurt and live on yak milk for a week while searching for some rare, sand-colored bird in a sand-colored desert.
The bird of prey approached from the north in the late afternoon shadows. Its flight had been direct and unwavering, but then the bird paused. It started to circle high above the rocky pinnacle. Suddenly, it dived into the tree line. The peregrine falcon, the fastest bird in the world, had spied a potential meal on top of Pilot Mountain. Soon, it was up again, talons empty. But what a sight to behold. Still hungry, the bird moved on.
A strange voice came to me across an Indiana cornfield: ka-ka-ka- ka-ka-ka kow-kow-kow-kow. “That’s a rain crow,” my grandmother said. “That means it’s gonna rain tonight.”
There isn't much water in Salem Lake this summer. Dam construction makes the western half of the lake look like a bomb crater, and the eastern half is reduced to a gentle stream. Without any boating, fishing or pretty scenery, maybe you've looked elsewhere for summer exercise. Yet, what lacks beauty to us may be a bit of heaven for migrating shorebirds and wading birds.
The flight of a hummingbird caught my eye as the bird wove through the trees in my backyard. It paused to hover long enough for me to get my binoculars on it. It was a female, and I could see her bill opening wide and closing again.
Local Audubon members got to know Ferenc Domoki when he came from Hungary to do genetic research at Wake Forest University Baptist Medical Center.
Sunrise comes early in Arizona.
"Night is coming and day is done.
What's the first thing that comes to mind when you think of a swamp?
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