Through a Country Window: July 2016

Persistence

July 2016

Last year, I realized I had something special coming to my windows. That special something has been annoying and beautiful at the same time.

Before then, I was well aware of a red bird flying repeatedly into the kitchen bay window. I assumed it was a Cardinal flying at its own reflection, as if he was seeing another male “intruder” in his territory, or who mistook the window for open space.

Maybe it was a Cardinal. But it may not have been.

Two years ago, starting in May, a solid red bird kept flying into the little octagonal window in our bedroom that looks out to the back area. Sometimes he moved to the side and flew into our larger, rectangular bedroom window that looks to the young White Oak in the side yard and beyond to the woods.

This went on every single day, almost constantly, dawn to dusk. This persistent red bird became our alarm clock, of sorts. Every day, all day, we could hear it – the hard click of bird feet on glass followed by the sudden, hollow-sounding bang and the brush of beak and wings hitting glass. Why didn't that bird end up dead on the ground below, or at least broken, or, at the very least, stunned?

It just kept up repeatedly, with occasional rests. It kept this up until late summer/early autumn, though a little bit less intensely as summer went on.

And, it's been doing it again this year.

Sometimes it stops to rest on a branch of that young White Oak tree. Sometimes it rests briefly on the tiny outside ledge of the octagonal window.

It rested long enough, now and then, that I could get a better look at it, and even take some photos.

I started to notice that this “Cardinal” did not have the characteristic, distinctive crest on his head. Was this a mutant Cardinal that never developed one?

But, wait … there was something else different. It didn't have any black on its face. And, somehow, it had a different shape overall, and a different posture, a different silhouette, a different attitude than a Cardinal. A certain, unique mien.

I noticed, too, something different about the beak. A Cardinal has a conical beak, like a thick triangle in profile, primarily meant for cracking open seeds. This bird's beak was a bit longer, and it turned down just a tiny bit at the end – obviously meant for a different purpose.

This bird also did not sound as sweet as a Cardinal, to my ears. I realized that the repeated loud, complaining sounds I'd been hearing in the summertime were this bird. Though melodic, it often sounded more urgent than sing-song. And more incessant.

I went to my field guides. It didn't take long for me to identify him as the Summer Tanager (Piranga rubra, meaning “small red bird”.) After all, the male Summer Tanager is the only completely red bird (when fully mature) in North America.

And there is was – that tipped beak.

I went to the internet for more information and found that it eats mainly wasps and bees, somehow avoiding getting stung in the process. I found out why in one source (Tennessee's Watchable Wildlife) that didn't pull any punches; “They capture bees and wasps in flight, killing them by beating them against a branch, and removing the stinger before consuming the insect.” Well, I hope death comes quickly upon capture.

The web site for the Audubon Guide to North American Birds (1) added, “ … after raiding wasp nests and occasionally becoming a minor nuisance around beehives … “ I'm sure many people are happy with the “raiding wasp nests” part, but I'm not sure if our new beekeeping neighbors would like the latter. I wonder if they see Summer Tanagers around their hives.

This same source clarified the first part, telling me that it “Will break into wasp nests and eat the larvae inside. “

Besides catching these insects on the wing (in short flights after taking off from branches), this bird will also hover over branches, picking off insects from the foliage, mainly in treetops. Various sources told me that it will also eat beetles, cicadas, caterpillars, grasshoppers, bugs, flies and other insects, and some spiders.

I would think it would be full enough after all of that (they sound very beneficial for controlling insect populations), but they will sometimes eat small fruits and berries near the forest habitat. So, planting such things might help them out, as well as leaving trees on your property – especially oaks and pines.

We most definitely have a welcome place for Summer Tanagers. We have a woods full of various oak species (and the young White Oak in our yard), some windbreak pines on the other side of the house, and much in the way of small fruits and berries, wild and domestic. No wonder they keep coming back! Smorgasbord!! And, there are plenty of possible nesting places.

But, what about this bright red male Summer Tanager flying into our bedroom windows all day, every day? What in the world is he doing? And why??

Most people I've mentioned this behavior to have said “He sees his own reflection” (and thinks it's an enemy.) That was my first thought, too. Did he and a female have a nest nearby that he felt he was defending? Or was it just a broad, territorial defense?

Because of his persistence, attacking his imaginary enemy, I named him ... Don Quixote.

Sometimes when I would walk into the kitchen he would be there, flying into the bay window, occasionally resting in a nearby pine tree. He was only flying at windows that were not completely covered by screens, and that were not too close to our dogs.

Was he really following me around? I would walk back to the bedroom, and he would start attacking the octagonal window again. Does he note our presence in the house? Does he see our forms and perceive us as the enemies, instead of his reflection? Either way, it would be an imaginary enemy (or, mis-perceived), which still fit the name I had given him. And, there were still times I could hear him flying at windows in a room while we were not in it.

I wondered – was he just flying at windows to capture bugs, with that efficient, slightly curved bug-catching beak?

I watched him closely while he was at the octagonal window. It is a rather buggy spot in the summer. And, spiders tend to build webs across and near that window, providing the bird with an even easier smorgasbord. Sometimes he did land on the tiny outer edge and repeatedly jump up on the upper portion of glass. Sometimes he would sit and look upward, twisting his body and craning his neck, fluffing feathers out on the top of his head (resembling the Cardinal a little more.)

And sometimes he came back down with a bug in his beak.

Was that the reason he had been flying at windows, every day, dawn to dusk? He certainly would capture many bugs to feed himself, and his Lady Fair, and then little nestlings and fledglings.

More digging told me that Summer Tanagers are usually found in mid-canopy and above, making them harder to see (even the bright red males seem to disappear from sight into trees.) During courtship, the male often chases the female, much as he does other males during territorial disputes.

The female does the nest-building. On a branch, well out from the tree trunk, she builds a thin, shallow cup of “grass, weed stems, bark strips, leaves, spiderwebs … “ (1) and lines it with fine grass. The male doesn't help with this, but he does hang around. For moral support? I imagine him “mansplaining” nest-building instructions in Tanagerese while she labors away at gathering and weaving, doing what she already knows how to do.

Then she lays “3-5 eggs, typically 4, pale green or blue-green, with brown and gray spots, sometimes concentrated at the larger end.” (1) She incubates the eggs for only 11-12 days. The male feeds the female when she asked for food.

Photo of nest with eggs:

www.dpwagtail.com/NESTS%20Album%M-Z%20Output1/pages/Summer%20Tanager%20nest%20and%20eggs_jpg.htm

Once the little Tanagerines hatch, both parents take care of the constant task of feeding the nestlings. So, this is likely when the flying-at-windows male task turns mostly to bug-catching.

After the Tanagerines are fledged, they hang out in their parents' territory for about another three weeks (7).

I have yet to figure out where Don Quixote and his Lady Fair have been nesting. Does he have the same Lady Fair each year? One source, Birding Information (3), says they are “monogamous, but not necessarily from season to season.” That means he stays with the same mate all year, but not necessarily the same mate every year. So, who knows. What I really need to do is watch them all season, more often, and more assiduously – where the male goes when he flies into a tree, where the female goes during nest-building, etc. A more thorough study is needed, putting my new binoculars to more use.

And what of Don Quixote's Lady Fair? I finally saw her this year! I first spotted her outside the kitchen Bay window, a clearer view created by her landing on a dead pine tree. What a beautiful color – a combination of olive green and mustard yellow, each color melding into the other in various spots. It would certainly be difficult to find her in a leafy tree. Despite her non-scarlet coloring, she looks as much the tropical bird as he does.

But, my camera wasn't quick enough that time.

However, I did manage to get a photo of her during my second chance seeing her. This time she was in the same area but had hopped down to the grass and stayed there a little while.

Now, what of his constant yammering at windows? Why in the world doesn't he get hurt? I posted photos of him on Facebook last year and talked about him. A birding friend of mine commented that he must be a tough little bird, flying all the way from South America.

WHAT???

Yes. Searching for information again, I found that Summer Tanagers spend the winter in places from Mexico, the tip of Florida and in Central America all the way into northern South America, as far south as Peru. They live their other lives “ … in the tropics, mainly in lowlands, but also up to the middle elevations in mountains, both in solid forest and in edges and clearings with scattered trees.” (1)

So, while we are cranking up the heat in our houses up here, scraping ice off of windshields and shoveling snow, they are languishing in tropical paradise. But, no – there's really no laziness, no sipping exotic, colorful beverages while lounging beneath huge umbrella-like leaves. These birds have a lot of catching and eating to do, getting ready for the big spring migration. According to Bird Watcher's Digest (2); “During migration the species covers a wide front; many birds fly nonstop across the Gulf of Mexico on their journeys north and south”, arriving in North America in mid-April and departing by mid-autumn.

Wow! Can you do that? I mean, let's say, walk and swim your way, twice a year, over that distance? That's a lot of bugs you'd have to eat … or pasta, or whatever.

Despite the constant pounding at the windows all summer long, despite the repeated complaint-sounding calls, I have a great deal of respect for Don Quixote and his Lady Fair, and I think I'll even miss them this winter when there's frost on the windows and this pair is hanging in the exotic tropical forests and mountains. I hope they have no problem getting back here next year, reestablishing territory and bringing up another generation of Summer Tanagers.