The Song Sparrows Stayed!

A wild song sparrow sings in Fairyland. 

This is the most current installment in the story of three orphaned song sparrows I raised upon receiving them August 30, 2021. You can find the prior three by scrolling down or hitting "Older Post." 

 The challenge I would face going forward was keeping track of my three song sparrow babies, who were, amazingly enough, hanging around through the autumn and early winter! 

This was worthy of note because I don't often have song sparrows here in winter--they seem to clear out. So to have three hanging around, and those being birds I'd raised, was an embarrassment of riches for me. 

I had expected them to take off soon after release, but they didn't. Fall migration time was already in full swing when they were hatched, for crying out loud--they fledged on August 31. 

As I thought more about it, it occurred to me that perhaps they were up against a metabolic wall. For no sooner had their juvenile plumage grown in than they--perhaps prompted by shorter daylength and the ebb in hormones that produces--began to molt it out. There were little feathers all over the fledging tent. They looked scruffy as could be. 

And it occurred to me that they may have been in no shape to attempt fall migration. Perhaps they had no choice but to stay the fall and winter with me here. Just born too late.

That was fine with me. I could help them through the winter. 

Baby, October 12, 2021. This is such a classic Baby pose. 

Lots of pinfeathers over her eye!

Baby, October 17, 2021. Still showing pinfeathers under the eye (click on photo to see).

About a zillion photos later, I finally got two of them together. 

Imagine my surprise and delight when both Baby and Ball showed up together in the side yard on December 16, 2021! This is a crummy picture, but you can make out the fault bars on both their tails.

It had to be Baby and Ball, because Bob had lost his first tail to a chipmunk, and had grown in a perfect one.

What better Christmas present could there be than Ball, singing away on December 26,  2021, down along the meadow edge?

My baby boy is singing!! And I caught him at it! See the little pale bar on his tail?? That's diagnostic of my hand-raised babies. He looks wonderful, doesn't he?

When the ice storm hit in February, somebody turned up tailless. Oh jeez. Ice will pull out bird tails. It happens. I didn't know who it was. One of the three. Maybe Baby. Maybe Bob, again. Feb. 5, 2022

Whoever it was liked to hang out close to the studio window. How sweet!!

I'm kinda leaning toward Bob here. Feb. 6, 2022. Telling song sparrows apart with neither bands nor bar-marked tails is above my pay grade. I try, but I'm never sure. 

They liked dried mealworms, and I was only too glad to toss more out the window. 

Grow that little tail back, fast!!

And then, after I photographed the tailless one, here came one with a bar-marked tail, sitting right in the Zick Dough feeder, pigging out! Ball? Is that you? Baby?? I'm lost. 

All I know is you're one of mine. And you're either Baby or Ball. If I can photograph you singing, I'll know you're Ball, because I'm pretty sure Baby's a female. Feb. 5, 2022

And so it goes for a Science Chimp and bird mom, forever watching, scrutinizing, photographing. Obsessively confirming, over and over, yes, you still draw breath, my dear ones.

It would be ever so much easier if I could band them, wouldn't it?

It's good to be pretty much caught up, to have followed these three for six months!

What a gift! 

I am looking forward to tracking down and photographing any song sparrow that sings, hops or scratches

on my place as spring comes on. I sure hope to see one with a marked tail. Maybe two.

You never know what little present awaits when you walk out the door. 

Latest sightings: Ball(?) turned up in the ZickDough feeder for the Great Backyard Bird Count on Feb. 19. I was so happy to see him. And he's been singing his distinctive scratchy song right under my bedroom window, Feb. 19 and 20 at first hint of light. He sings once, then takes off from his night roost in the blue spruce by the fishpond and sings farther down in the back, below the fallen willow. What a wonderful start to my day, to hear a bird singing who I've known since he was 8 days old!

On Feb. 24, Ball sang from the steps of my front porch. Oh, how I hope he establishes a territory and stays to breed here! 

Speaking of gifts...On the 28th of September, I was sitting in my lawn chair, clicking away at the babies as they fed on the sidewalk, when someone else came hopping up. My eye, well trained, knew instantly that this was no song sparrow. Please click on the photos to see the fine penciling of a gorgeous fall Lincoln's sparrow, come down from the squishy bogs of the North Country to grace my yard, and feed on millet for one glorious September morning. 

Such are the gifts of being outside, and looking closely. Swoon! Feast your eyes on that ochre wash across malar and breast! The clean gull-gray above the eye! That white belly! Oh, what a bird!

Release the Song Sparrows!

Mmm. Pupae. 33 day old Baby, front, and Ball, behind, Sept. 23

If you're just picking up this story, please scroll down and check out the first two installments in the tale of the rehab and release of the song sparrows I took in August 30, 2021. It was a process!

Once the three orphaned song sparrows were used to flying up to a pedestal to feed, I switched to topping it with a large flat board. All these changes took place over the week and a half they were in the tent. I wanted them to be completely comfortable with the feeding setup before they were released. Once they were reliably feeding on the board-topped pedestal, they were ready to go. It was September 17, and they were 27 days old. I had chosen this day for release because Margaret Morse Nice, Ohio song sparrow guru and author of one of the finest single-species studies ever done, wrote that the longest she’d ever observed her subjects feeding their young was Day 27. So be it. 

 

I opened the tent at 11:15. Baby sunbathed in the unaccustomed bright rays, but the birds acted as though they didn’t notice the open sky, now revealed with the screen rolled back. At 12:14 pm, Bob was the first to fly out, leaving Ball and Baby stunned and standing still at the mouth of the tent. It was a beautiful warm calm day, perfect for them to get their bearings outdoors. At 12:45 pm, Baby flew out into the driveway. 

She was gone for a few moments, then she flew back into the garage and tried to get back into the tent. She changed her mind and flew to the nearby forsythia. All the while, Ball stood and watched. He was still sitting at the open end at 1:20 pm. He was terribly conflicted, and spending a lot of time foot-staring and hiding in the folds of the tent. There was no sign of the two released birds. I calmed myself, saying they’d be back when they got hungry. 2:15: Ball still lingered in the tent.  At 2:53, he made a straight flight out the door and hid under my car in the driveway. I set up the pedestal where he could see it, well stocked with millet and mealworms. I kept hearing rustling in the roses along the garage, but I didn’t see any of my babies from 3 pm until it was too dark to see. 

 

It was Terrible. The first 12 hours or so of most of my bird releases are usually pretty stressful. I went to bed at 10 pm and woke at 1:30, worrying, and that was it for me. I was so impatient for the dawn. At 7 am I walked out, calling, and Baby popped up in the rose hedge! I threw millet all over the sidewalk, mealworms too, and two birds—Ball and Baby-- came down to eat at long last. What an awful ordeal, waiting for evidence that they were still alive. It’s often thus with releasing birds. You have to have faith, and every hour that ticks by tests that faith. 

Around 11:40, a third bird came flying from the prairie patch across the yard. It was Bob! I’d heard him giving the chimp note over there most of the day. Finally, they were all together, and they fed atop the pedestal feeder I’d set up by the forsythia. Whewww!! 

 

What a relief! By mid-morning, the babies were coming to the pedestal, which I'd set up next to the forsythia where they spent a lot of time. I left the good stuff out for them there! Here, Baby and Ball feast on mealworm pupae (freshly molted, of course, and tender). 

Just look at the size difference here. Baby's in front, but so much smaller and more delicate than hulking Ball. Also note the angle of her tail--she always carried it high.

Baby and Ball were almost always together, as they had been in the cage and in the fledging tent. It was a comfort to see their bond persisting after release. 

                                                       Baby and Ball at the pedestal.

Ball was well-named. He was roundish, and he had finer streaking as a juvenile than Baby .

Ball, Sept. 25, '21

I stayed out with them all that first day. It is my habit to stay out with newly released birds, to give them a sense of continuity, so they know I will continue to provide for them. Toward dusk, Baby and Bob went to roost in the forsythia, while Bob, ever the loner, flew across to the prairie patch. He was to keep this pattern for the rest of the autumn. Alone among the three, though, Bob would spook around the front door, the studio hummingbird garden and the bird baths. It was always lovely to look down and see him as I worked. I often wondered if his willingness to come into my spaces was because he had spent time on my shoulder as a brand new fledgling. He sought me out.

20 Sept. Bob tries his first sunflower heart under the feeder! He also stripped crabgrass seeds as though he'd been doing it all his life. My mother bird's heart almost burst with pride!

And that same day, I snapped his portrait by my granite snapping turtle. How cute is he? 

Bob, in the grass Liam calls "Witch's Hair" on Sept. 23, 2021

He was 33 days old. Such a handsome little guy.

Ball eats a moth, Sept. 28

Ball, Oct. 1, '21. This photo makes me smile. He was such a round little fella as a youngster.

 

Baby, Oct. 17, '21. Baby carries herself low, and often cocks her tail upward. Always has. 

I fell into a pattern of taking my camera and binoculars out each morning when I filled the feeders on the pedestal. I'd sit in a lawn chair, taking my tea, watching for the babies, and I'd shoot as many photos as I could. It was lovely, like a morning meditation. My chair was perennially wet from the morning dew, so I took a towel out with me to spread before I sat down.  

                             

I like to think it gave them a sense of peace and comfort to have a large anthropoid ape, one they knew, watching over them as they fed. 

They were also completely comfortable with Curtis, who made it his job to keep the chipmunks away from the seed I spread on the sidewalk.

                                 

Still, we couldn't protect them every minute. 

On this shot from Sept. 19, you can see the pale fault bar band across Bob's tail. All three babies showed this band, which was formed when they suffered a day of deprivation when their nest was destroyed, before I took them in on August 30. The feather growth was interrupted, and manifests as a pale line.

Bob fills up at the pedestal feeder, Sept. 24, '21

On Sept. 29, Bob turned up tailless! I blame the chipmunks who were always lurking in the rudbeckia/rose hedge along the sidewalk. Not a fan of the striped ones.

Oct. 1, 2021--Bob is already showing the start of a new tail! Four days of growth and he's already showing a stub! I knew he'd grow it back, and sure enough, within three weeks you'd never know he'd been without. The only thing that wasn't great about this was that I'd lost the key marker--the fault bar across his baby tail feathers--that I'd been relying on to distinguish him from the wild song sparrows. As they got sleek and beautiful, I had to rely on the fact that all three of my babies were still undergoing face and head molt in mid October, while any visiting song sparrow would have long since finished molting. There were still a few pinfeathers on Bob's face when I snapped him with his beautiful new red tail on Oct. 17.

Bob at the bonsai pool by the front door, Oct. 21, 2021

Bob loved to bathe! Maybe that's why he was always sleeker than his siblings. He probably thought they were gross, so he kept to himself. 

One of the really cool things that happened during this lovely September/October idyll was that two wild male song sparrows showed up and hung out with the babies. This is one I called  Chops, for his big muttonchop markings.

Chops can hardly believe the fare my three orphans were getting

 and helps himself! 

The bird below I called Wilder.

 Both sang around the yard, which is why I knew they were males.

Wilder, October 3, 2021

Because the babies weren't afraid of me, these two wild song sparrows decided I must be all right. 

They were so crisp and beautifully smooth, in contrast to the scruffy juveniles. I enjoyed getting to know the wild ones, who fed among the three babies, unconcerned about me sitting just a dozen feet away.

I remember that period as one of peace and contentment, watching my sparrows go a little wilder each morning, before their mama's eyes.

 

Fat Bluebirds!

You may be wondering how the orphaned bluebirds, whom we call The Babies or sometimes if they're being particularly pushy, The Stinkies, are doing. Well, they're doing just great, thank you. In this video, made August 16, they are 65 days old. It's been a real trip to see them through the entire postjuvenal molt, to see their first adult basic plumage come in slowly but surely. It started with a red waistcoat, fine strips of soft terra-cotta red feathers coming on on their sides, and has progressed to their backs. Last to molt will be the head and upper breast, followed by flight feathers of the wing. By mid-September they should be looking quite amazingly spiffy sleek. This is Ida.

You'll remember that there were three. Toddy, always the innovator of the group, took off when she was around 52 days old. She just stopped needing mealworms, tapered off her visits, and came alone when she did come in. Then she stopped coming in. My guess is she joined up with another group of bluebirds somewhere on our road. In eastern bluebirds, females are the ones who disperse from their natal territories, so Toddy was doing what she was meant to do. These two, dunno. The lure of the dinner cup is too strong. They are often gone for six or eight hours at a stretch, and once even 24 hours! And when they poop it's often full of pokeberries

 and we see them foraging for insects all over the yard. So they're becoming bluebirds. They just feel compelled to keep their weight up, that's all.




In this video I'm kind of excited to be getting good footage of them eating, and this is the first time I've gotten a good shot of their brand new blue back feathers. So I get bungled up and call Elsa, the bird who remains and pigs out, by Ida's name. Ida is the shyer of the two. She's the one who flew off first. Elsa always stays and eats until she can't fit any more mealworms in her crop. And often flies off carrying one. She's too cute.

You will also notice me admonishing the birds for being so fat. This is not because I am fattist. No, far from it. I tell them they are fat with the kind of admiring tone that one uses on a good stout baby, the kind with deep creases around wrists and ankles, as if someone has put rubber bands around her. I looove a fat baby, be it human or bird. Kind of Polynesian in that respect. A fat bird is a healthy bird, a wealthy bird, a prosperous bird.

Phoebe tries to fill them up. Note how mealworms are kept--see below for details.

They are pretty hard to tell apart, as being in heavy molt changes their appearance day to day. But Elsa has all her primaries, and Ida busted most of hers off in the flight tent somehow. Those are the only feathers that haven't been molted, so I have to look at their wingtips to distinguish them. I noticed today (8/19) that Ida's new primaries are pushing out from beneath the tertials, so she should be getting a lot more lift with less work very soon.

Just this evening, as I'm writing, the Babies figured out to come and perch on the hanging basket hooks just outside the kitchen window and peek inside to stare us down. It is quite disarming to look out your kitchen window and find two bluebirds waving their wings at you. It's terrible, in fact. Harrible. How we put up with them I do not know.

Note on mealworms: I get them, 5,000 at a time, from the excellent and affordable Nature's Way. Here's their website: http://www.thenaturesway.com   Tell Tim Vocke, Proprietor, that Zick sent you. Best worms available, healthiest, cleanest, biggest, fattest. Fat=Good.

I keep the mealworms in UNmedicated chick starter which I get at the feed store. You have to tell them you don't want the stuff that's full of antibiotics, or they may automatically sell you that. For moisture, I give them baby carrots. Lots. Keep them in an open plastic shoebox (no lid). See photo of Phoebe, above, for a visual. Some people refrigerate their mealworms, but if the worms are refrigerated, they stop eating and go dormant, and thus have less nutritional value.

 Keeping them in chick starter and feeding them carrots is called "gut loading." This is a lovely term that means the bluebirds eat what the mealworms eat and thus get better nutrition than if they were kept in plain wheat bran or old-fashioned oats.

It also describes what I do in BLT season.

If you have a good old-fashioned feed store in your town, they should sell you the chick starter in bulk. I usually buy 10 lb. at a time. Don't really want a 50-lb. bag of that stuff hanging around. It's the same stuff I used in my Improved Zick Dough. And that is all I have to say about mealworms for now.