Cleanup Crew

Robins arrived in a flock at first light along with a few bluebirds and cedar waxwings. 

They stormed the birdbath...

and descended on the dogwood trees...

and seemed disappointed to find that every last berry had already been stripped.

Undeterred, they spread out over the frosty ground, bobbing their heads down into the grass with the rhythm of an oil well. 

On each upswing, a bright red berry lodged between their beaks, then slid down their throats in one swift swallow. 

When every last berry had been vacuumed up, they flew south, leaving as quickly as they came. 

They left behind a good reminder for the New Year: 

The early bird gets the berry.

Seek and you will find.

Linking with Wild Bird Wednesday
and Saturday's Critters

Pileated Berry Breakfast

The light outside has been dim lately, the sky and land painted in various shades of gray. 

Bright spots of red add a finishing touch to the scene, where dogwood berries, 

still clinging to the trees, serve as beacons to the wildlife. 

A pileated woodpecker came back yesterday morning for a berry breakfast.  

They are imposing birds, about the size of a crow, 

but with more color, and none of the irritating habits.  

We see them here occasionally. 

Their loud, distinctive call and undulating flight 

capture our attention as they pass by, 

but this was a rare opportunity to watch one up close.

The regal appearance this species makes is, we think, 

very fitting for the largest known surviving member of the woodpecker family.

The larger Ivory-billed Woodpecker is probably extinct, 

although if any of you have seen one lately, we hope you'll post it on your blog.

: )

Linking with Wild Bird Wednesday

One note:

Word verification keeps appearing on my comment page, even though I have it turned off.

If you'd like to comment, I believe you can ignore it and post one anyway.

Autumn Feast

Dogwood Berry Breakfast

We've had a cool snap lately, with pristine air and high barometer skies, the change we've all been waiting for. Our recent hot, wet  summer has been producing a lavish harvest for the wildlife.  Hickory nuts have fallen in abundance, persimmons are ripening early, as did paw paw, and acorns are larger than any in recent memory.  The dogwood tree in our front yard, recently loaded with berries, is now nearly devoid of them and their faded remains carpet the ground.

In my journal of two years ago, I note that the berries from that same tree didn't ripen until late November that year.  Two days after Thanksgiving, on a cold gray morning, as Don and I were just getting ready to pour milk on our Grapenuts and granola, we heard a raucous commotion in the front yard.  We looked out to see a Pileated Woodpecker squabbling with some squirrels over a tree full of ripe dogwood berries. It seemed to me that there were plenty to go around.  For the next half hour I stood transfixed by the window as birds and squirrels feasted on this late Thanksgiving dinner.

Two Flickers arrived for the feast, decked out in their finery, right down to the bright orange triangle on the back of their necks.  They looked like little stuntmen, as they twisted and turned, and reached over backwards to grasp the tasty Dogwood morsels.  They were followed by a flock of Robins, who bolted the berries down in one quick gulp.  Blue Jays were next.  They would carefully pick the berries, one at a time, then fly to a sturdy limb where they would dismantle them, discard the shiny red exterior, and eat out the center seed.  Then the squirrels were back, running along the limbs and stretching out to reach the berries and doing a flip-turn back to their branch, were they savored their treat, before diving for the next one.

One year, a flock of Cedar Waxwings swooped down and stripped the tree of berries in one day. At that time I assumed,  since they knew where this great tree was, they’d come back for the harvest every year, but we never saw the phenomenon again.

I'm not sure what the creatures will be having for Thanksgiving this year, but chances are, they'll have plenty in their pantry.