Again At Midsummer

Nearly a year ago I wrote a post about what was going on in my yard. In many ways things are the same and things are different this year.

Cherries in various stages of ripeness (Margo D. Beller)

After the house wren family dispersed, I waited to see if another wren would use the nest box. It took five days - not one like last year - for a male to investigate and start singing around my yard. But nothing much happened. No female showed up. Several times the wren would fly to the box but then would leave.

Finally, I investigated. I found the opening to the box was plugged with nesting material for a house sparrow. Neither the nest nor the sparrow would be able to fit through the small opening so the bird gave up. I knew it was a house sparrow because of the nest material. House wrens use twigs. According to the bird experts at Cornell, house sparrows use "coarse dried vegetation, often stuffed into the hole until it’s nearly filled. The birds then use finer material, including feathers, string, and paper, for the lining." They also steal other birds' nests for their own.

I pulled the mess out of the opening but by then it was too late. It takes many weeks for a wren to find a mate, for her to sit on the eggs and raise the young. Southbound migration is only a month or so away. I've heard no  house wren song in my yard, tho' I've heard them elsewhere. I'll take the nest box down soon.

One of many robins in the cherry tree (Margo D. Beller)

Last year the apple tree did not lose its leaves for some time. This year its yellowed leaves are scattered below. The last apple was taken by a squirrel near the middle of June, nearly a month earlier than in the past. The tree survived its surgery but has been hit, as has the rest of my garden, with high winds, searing heat, thick humidity, the occasional flooding downpour and, now, wildfire smoke. Unlike me, it was not affected by the nearly three days we were without power over the July 4 weekend because of hurricane-force winds and hours of rain. Global warming? You be the judge.

The heat and humidity has kept me from doing much in the way of gardening, and the weeds have been taking advantage. But also taking advantage is a cherry tree at the edge of my yard.

I didn't plant this tree. I don't know if a previous owner did or if it sprang up from a dropped seed. This tree's growth was blocked for years by a nearby apple tree and the giant ash tree, both of which I cut down for different reasons. Once those trees were gone the cherry tree got plenty of light and so jumped in height and spread out. This year it was covered in flowers and now is covered in cherries. These are small and sour (yes, I tried a few) and the families of grackles, robins, catbirds and other fruit-eating birds love them.

The cherry tree trunk is the smaller one to the left.
(Margo D. Beller)

The nearby viburnum's berries are currently green but will, I hope, soon turn red. So will the dogwood's fruit. The privet shrubs will soon have their own berries. All of these will feed the birds as they get ready to head south for the winter.

It is hard to believe some birds are already migrating, such as male hummingbirds - which is why the trumpet vines and jewelweeds are flowering for them. At my house I've twice caught sight of a hummingbird investigating flowers but no birds have been inclined to use the feeder I have out, as far as I know.

There are plenty of birds that breed in my area, meaning their spring migration north stopped in my yard or in local parks that provided them with food, water and a protected place to breed. Hearing them singing or flying around gives me something to enjoy when I go out early in the morning nowadays. And there are plenty of fruiting and seeding plants out there - including weeds - that will feed those birds and the others later in the summer when it's time for them to leave.

So Many Babies

The catbird sat on the branch just below the wren nest box. It surveyed the ground below, looking for movement of a worm or insect. Then it flew down to nab its meal.

While it sat there, no house wren came out to chase it from the nest. For the first time in weeks the box was empty. 

Wren nest box, June 2026 (Margo D. Beller)

For the second straight year, after years of just missing, I saw the house wren chicks leave the nest and take their first wobbly flight to where a parent was no doubt calling for it. I was on my porch so I could not hear the parent, but I could see the three chicks as, one by one, they flew to the bare part of a dogwood branch. Each fluttered to keep its balance. One by one each moved to the leaves at the end of the branch and flew in the direction of the blue spruce's boughs.

This was a change. In past years, the wrens would fly in the other direction, to the shrubbery behind the flood wall. But this year a new neighbor had moved in and put up a wall so his dog could run in the yard. While he had put the fence well in from the property line to leave the trees and shrubs standing, the wall might've made the area too confining to the parents. So they led their young to Spruce, who had told me when the male first investigated the box in mid-April.

"They were here, Margo," he told me now, "but soon they all flew down to the ferns you have growing near me. I couldn't see them in the foliage. They might've flown behind your fencing."

This was on Tuesday, June 16, a week after my last post. In the interval the young had grown so big they could only be fed from outside the box. It was only a matter of time before they flew, I thought. And so, again, I was right.

I have not heard any of the wrens in the yard since then but there have been plenty of baby birds calling after their parents to be fed: cardinal, chipping sparrow, catbird, robin, starling, grackle, titmouse. But the yard is different without the sound of a singing house wren.

This fawn from several Junes ago was in the backyard,
under the apple tree and away from the street.
(Margo D. Beller)

Last year the box was empty only a day before another, or possibly the same, male claimed it and started singing. This year there have been no new takers as yet.

Meanwhile, in late May a doe appeared in the backyard nearly every morning, mainly eating weeds in that sheltered area behind the flood wall. I told my husband and MH's immediate comment was, "Is she pregnant?"

Memorial Day to early June seems to be the time when pregnant does give birth to one, two, sometimes three fawns. The fawns are hidden at first, spending their time sleeping like any newborn, surviving on mother's milk. We have found sleeping newborns in the yard in past years. So I understood his question. No, I said.

But I figured there was a fawn somewhere nearby. After a few weeks it would start following Mom around and supplement its milk diet with grass and plants. (A dangerous time for any unprotected plants as the young figures out what tastes good and what doesn't.)

The viburnum stands in front of the flood wall, with the fence
beyond. (Margo D. Beller)

So I was not surprised the other week when I found the fawn hunkered down in the area behind the flood wall. I couldn't see it from where I was sitting outside on the patio. But when first a chipmunk and then a squirrel climbed a tree and started their alarm calls, I went to see if a cat was hiding back there. Instead, there was the fawn. We stared at each other. When deer are small like this they look cute. It is when they grow and destroy my plants that I want to shoot them. (Same with baby Canada geese.)

Well, I said to it, at least your mother didn't leave you behind the deer netting where you'd make a mess trying to get out. (I now use an old garden hose to block the way in behind that fence.)

I moved and then the fawn bounded away in that herky-jerky way colts run, heading for Mom.

I figured Mom would not leave it there alone again and I was right. When I saw it behind the flood wall today, Mom was nearby, behind a privet bush. Both took off, going around the house next door, perhaps to the area where they'd have gone directly had the fence not been there. 

But they'll be back at some point. Whether house wrens are is another story.

And Then There Were Two

Since my last post I haven't spent much time in the yard because it is migration time. I've risen early and gone places at various distances from my home, usually without eating. The early birder gets the birds as they look for food. Then I come home around 9 a.m. for my own breakfast. In good weather I take my food out to my enclosed porch and sit so I can watch the house wren nest box.

In a previous post I mentioned hearing the first house wren on April 19, 2025.  Exactly one year later, a male house wren started singing in the yard, two days after I put up the box. But things never seem to go as planned with these birds. After a day of seeing it around the box, the wren seemingly left.

Then, according to my notes, on Thursday, April 23, as I pulled the car out of the garage to go off one early morning, I heard a house wren singing very close, which meant it was on the opposite side of the yard from where the nest box hung. Was this the same wren or a different one?

The tell-tale stick telling other wrens this box is taken.
April 28, 2026 (Margo D. Beller)

I got my answer the next day when the house wren male continually sang from different parts of the yard as I ate my breakfast. Then it came to fuss over the box, bringing in a few sticks to give a prospective mate the idea that this would make a good spot for her nest. But I saw no second house wren that day and he soon left. 

On Saturday, April 25, it rained buckets for about 12 hours. The next day I could see the box had gotten plenty wet. I hoped it was dry inside. I saw no activity that day but I heard the male house wren singing almost continually, advertising his availability to any female.

Finally, on April 27, I saw a second wren come to the box. To me all house wrens look alike - they have no difference in size or color. The only way I could tell which was which was the male sat on a branch above the box and sang a bit while the female silently examined the box inside and outside. Then the two flew off together.

"So he has a mate," I thought. 

When I was next on the porch I saw the tell-tale stick coming out from the bottom of the box. That stick means that "this nest is taken."

This is far from new activity. I've been writing about house wrens since at least 2011. When I provide a box they have come every year, no matter which tree I securely hang it in. Every year they do the same thing - look at the box, decide to take the box, create a nest, defend it, raise young, leave with them once they can fly. To me this never gets old. 

Today, resting after hours of birding, I sat on the porch and watched the female furiously adding more sticks to the box. The male sang nearby as she worked on her nest. It is interesting to watch her bring a stick and then try to figure out how to get it into the box. Sometimes the stick is dropped. Sometimes it is broken. Eventually she figured out she can turn her head and put the stick in that way. 

I don't see the male as she does this but I can certainly hear him. He is still singing his loud territorial call. He'll continue to do that until eggs are laid. Then he will sing more softly so as not to call attention to the nest. To me it sounds like the call is intended to assure his mate he is around to defend the nest or tell her he'll watch things while she gets some food for herself.

This 2018 picture of the wren nest I cleared from the box
gives you an indication of what's in there, mainly done by the female.
(Margo D. Beller)

When she took a break from her nest-making labors she stood for a while on top of the nest box. She then flew down to nearby bushes where she can find what she needs, be it sticks or food. 

Every year when the nest is done and the wrens - which pair only for breeding and then separate - have gone south in the fall, I empty the box to clean it. Every year I am amazed at how tightly packed the stick nest is inside. The wrens usually have a brood of three chicks. That's a lot of birds jammed into what looks like a small box. But house wrens are small birds, particularly when just hatched.

Aside from those few sticks the male put in to "stage" the box, the female does all the work building the nest. He won't enter the box again except when the chicks are born and he helps her feed them and remove the poop.

She could be sitting on eggs as early as this weekend. And then things will really get interesting.

Opinion: Donald Trump Is (Not) For The Birds

In the last few days there has been a seismic change in the way the United States deals with climate change.

It is ignoring it.

Here is the reporting of the New York Times:

President Trump announced [Thursday] afternoon that he was officially erasing the scientific finding that greenhouse gases threaten human life by warming the planet. The move largely cuts off the federal government’s legal authority to address climate change through regulation.

Following the lead of a president who refers to climate change as a “hoax,” the administration is directly challenging the overwhelming scientific consensus. Presidents of both parties have warned of the dangers of climate change for decades.

At issue is a 2009 determination called the endangerment finding, which the government has used to justify regulations on greenhouse gases. Lee Zeldin, who leads the [Environmental Protection Agency], called today’s move “the single largest deregulatory action in the history of the United States.”

The administration claimed it would save auto manufacturers and other businesses an estimated $1 trillion, although it has declined to explain how it arrived at that figure. The Environmental Defense Fund estimated the rollback could lead to as many as 58,000 premature deaths.

(Alen Hunjet, StockPhotoBoard.com)

What Trump did, according to the BBC, was revoke the Obama-era "endangerment finding" that held that pollution harms public health and the environment. For almost 17 years, the U.S. has used that scientific finding as the legal basis to establish policies to reduce emissions from cars, power plants and other sources of planet-warming gases.

"This radical rule became the legal foundation for the Green New Scam," Trump said, using a term popular with Republicans for describing Democratic environmental and climate policies.

So 58,000 early human deaths caused by an increasingly warmer planet where we've been having hotter summers, more widespread drought and more destructive hurricanes is a "green new scam." 

As an American who loves her country, I hate this radical change by a man who has no regard for anything except his own ego and making a few million bucks for his companies while in office. But as a birder, I am extremely saddened and worried about what will happen to the environment, especially the birds, now that fighting climate change is no longer an American imperative. 

As the oceans warm, the creatures that need to live in cold water have been moving north. So have the birds, whales and fish that feed on them. As icebergs melt, the oceans will continue to rise and threaten coastal communities. That includes my hometown of New York City.

Spring will come earlier. According to Roger F. Pasquier, in his book "Birds in Winter": "While short-distance migrants are leaving their wintering site sooner and returning there later, long-distance migrants, affected by day length, have not shifted their schedule as much. On arrival in spring, however, they find the season more advanced, often to the point where the food they give their young is no longer widely available. Resident birds in the same habitat have begun nesting weeks earlier, remaining in sync with the emergence of the prey they feed their young. The migrants least able to accelerate their schedule are the species most declining."

This was written in 2019.

Birds and animals that once lived in southern regions, such as the red-bellied woodpecker and the northern mockingbird, have been living in the north for years. Armadillos native to Central and South America are now moving beyond the American south, where they could be warm and find lots of insects to eat, to the warming midwest.

Says Pasquier: "The most visible impact of climate change in wintering birds has been the shift in their range. Many species of middle latitudes are migrating less far, if at all, and their range in both winter and summer has moved poleward. Ground foragers can now survive the winter in places where snow cover used to make feeding difficult. Waterbirds are not limited by areas that once froze for months of winter..."

President Trump has done many things to harm many people since he was re-elected in 2024, and he is not much better when it comes to Nature. He wants oil drilling in the arctic. He wants oil drilling off America's coasts. He tried to scuttle wind power projects. He ordered the Defense Department to use more coal-based electricity. He has ordered the Energy Department to pay coal plants to stay online. He has proposed major changes to the Endangered Species Act to eliminate many protections. Once he was re-elected he again pulled the U.S. out of the Paris Accords on climate change. (He did this during his first term, in 2017, but President Biden reinstated the U.S. in 2021.)

His way to "Make America Great Again" seems to be all about making America a sick place where businesses can operate unregulated and with impunity and Nature is a profit center, the rest of the world and all that live in it be damned. 

Even NASA, a part of the U.S. government, recognizes the seriousness of climate change.

There is unequivocal evidence that Earth is warming at an unprecedented rate. Human activity is the principal cause.

Earth-orbiting satellites and new technologies have helped scientists see the big picture, collecting many different types of information about our planet and its climate all over the world. These data, collected over many years, reveal the signs and patterns of a changing climate.

Europe has been taking climate change seriously, because it is the fastest-warming area on Earth. But the relationship between Europe and the U.S. has been changing under Trump. Besides pulling the U.S. out of the climate accord he has threatened to take the U.S. out of NATO and has been obsessed with controlling Greenland, a protectorate of NATO member Denmark.

Ironically, climate change is causing Greenland's ice sheet to melt at an accelerated rate, leading to rising sea levels and having an impact on local ecosystems and communities. The warming temperatures also threaten traditional livelihoods, particularly for the Inuit population, as fish stocks decline.

Trump does not care about any of that. He does not care about ecosystems and communities. He does not care about Inuits or fish. He claims he needs Greenland to protect the U.S. from potential threats from China and Russia. What he really wants, I believe, are the rare earth metals needed for technology, which Greenland has in abundance and the U.S. is no longer getting from China.

In a word, sad.

Out in the Cold

In winter we behold the charms of solemn majesty and naked grandeur.  -- James Ellis

This morning it was 14 degrees F when the sun rose after 7 a.m. ET. I had lingered in bed under quilts and was not interested in moving. Then I remembered the birds.

Winter, Patriots Path, Nov. 22, 2025 (Margo D. Beller)

Ever since bears damaged feeders and the poles they hang on - several times over the years - I've brought the feeders in at night. But while I was lying under covers, the birds were in shrubs, hedges and on tree branches, puffing themselves up to maintain a layer of warmth under their feathers to survive the cold. It is why I leave the feeders out as long as possible before dark, so they have the fat energy for survival, and why I rouse myself from my warm bed to put the feeders out in the morning.

Lots of birds came to the feeders today, including the red-breasted nuthatch pair that has been hanging around the yard for way over a week. I did not travel far this cold morning, but one morning the previous week, when it was a balmy 17 degrees at sunrise, I took myself to the nearby linear park known as Patriots Path.

White-throated sparrow (Margo D. Beller)

This park goes on for many miles through my home county. I parked at one section started walking.  

I've seen interesting birds in this particular section in all seasons, and there have been many changes in the topography over the years. But now I just wanted to walk and hope something interesting called for me (or Merlin) to hear and identify. I wanted to see what birds do in the cold. It turns out, the same as any other day - get something to eat and try not to be eaten. In the cold, however, I sensed a bit more frenzy.

As I began my walk, a flock of American crows circled and cawed. Were they chatting among themselves, as corvids are wont to do, or were they disturbed by something - a hawk or me? They circled and departed, but then several black vultures flew overhead. Then some turkey vultures. All the vultures started landing in some of the bare trees near the river. The vulture types did not mingle. 

Among them were six turkey vultures roosting in one tree, and beneath them three deer, in winter camoflage, were browsing the winter-killed grasses. They raised their heads, looked at me, then continued eating. This is a hard time for deer. Plants they'd normally browse have died or gone dormant, and people are out trying to shoot them. This section of the park used to be marked as a "Deer Management Area" but I noticed the orange sign had been removed. No hunting here today.

Turkey vulture (RE Berg-Andersson)

With my binoculars I looked at all the birds and found a roosting red-tailed hawk in a separate tree. All these raptors were waiting for the sun to hit them so they could be warm enough to hunt for their breakfast. I wondered, where did the vultures come from and why did they pick this area to congregate? I can only guess.

The cold kept the number of walkers, with or without dogs, at a minimum so the birds remained where they were as I stood still to watch and listen. Near the intersection with the next road were many birds flying around, looking for food or just some warm sunshine. Robins and rusty blackbirds flew around the trees. White-crowned and song sparrows called from thick shrubbery. I was lucky a swamp sparrow allowed me to see its rich colors. A raven croaked as it flew by overhead. Goldfinches and juncos flitted around. Various woodpeckers banged at trees to dislodge hidden insects. Titmice hung upside-down on smaller branches, doing the same. Jays, white-breasted nuthatch and fish crows called. 

Roosting red-tailed hawk from another time (Margo D. Beller)

I stood for a long time listening, or at least trying to hear over the sound of morning rush hour traffic. (Merlin was a great help in this.) Where the birds went fast, I went slow. But despite my winter gear the cold started affecting me, starting with my legs. Holding the binoculars made my hands very cold, and it was hard to focus the gears. Had I been carrying my stick it would've become painful through my glove. Instead, I was holding my phone, which the cold also affected. Between the cold and the Merlin app the phone dropped to a dangerously low power level. I shut everything off and walked quickly back to my car to warm up.

But I was satisfied with all I saw and heard despite the discomfort. According to the New Jersey Bird Records Committee's list of every bird ever recorded (and verified) in New Jersey (part of a plethora of lists and annual reports it puts out), 502 types of birds have been found in the state (plus five now considered extinct). I got to see or hear 15 of them.

Another time out in the cold. (RE Berg-Andersson)

Today the early birder got the birds. 

Midsummer Flowering Weeds

On a recent less-humid morning I took a long walk around what I call Greystone and the maps now call the Central Park of Morris County. I was walking on the cross-country running track created in the back fields of what was once a psychiatric hospital. I was looking and listening for birds, as usual, and managed to find a few.

But after a while I started looking at the plants. In the area where saplings had been planted a few years ago there are now small trees - tulip poplar, sweetgum, sumac, among others - as well as fields of weeds I once thought were ragweed but I now know have the lovely name of common mugwort, which sounds like something out of Harry Potter. I like the mugwort because last year a drainage ditch filled with the stuff offered protection to at least four types of migrating sparrows, goldfinches and at least two types of warblers.

Back in September of 2019 I wrote about walking among the autumn weeds. It is now July of 2025 and the same weeds are already out thanks to a combination of warmer than usual temperatures and more than usual amounts of rain. Maybe they were always out in July, or maybe it's another sign of global warming.

So while I hate the weeds in my backyard with a passion, I enjoy the park weeds' flowers, fruits and seeds because they help pollenators and birds, migrating and those that hang around all year.

Here are some of my photos.

This is a wild grape vine. The fruits are now white but they will turn blue. They are enjoyed by sparrows, robins and other fruit-eating birds. The vine will engulf anything nearby. 

There is goldenrod that blooms in the middle of summer, and goldenrod that blooms near the end of summer. I grow the midsummer type. I presume this is the same type. 

This is called teasel. It is about four feet tall and has spiky, blue flowers that are favored by bees. Every time I see these I consider taking off a seed head or two for my garden. Maybe I will do it this year.

This poison ivy was growing along the walls of what used to be the hospital dance hall. Unless cut down the ivy will completely cover the building. Obviously the Parks Dept. doesn't want to touch it.

Trees can be weeds, too. This is tree of heaven, growing along the same building as the poison ivy. Unless you get it when small it will put its long taproot into the ground and be very difficult to remove, as I learned when I tried to dig out one from my in-laws' front yard years ago. 

A field of mugwort provides hiding spaces for birds, deer and rabbits, as I saw during my walk.

I once had one of these inkweed plants growing in my yard but I quickly dug it up before the taproot went too deep. In this picture the berries are not ripe yet. When they are they'll be deep purple. Catbirds love these berries, as do robins and cardinals, among others. 

In front are the white wild carrot (Queen Anne's lace) and the blue chicory, whose roots can be made into a type of coffee. They are surrounded by mugwort and other weeds. Some of the growing saplings are behind them.

Milkweed is very important to the survival of monarch butterflies. The caterpillars feed on the plant and bees pollenate the pink flowers. As I have learned in my yard, they spread by an underground root system. In a field they look lovely. In my backyard they have popped up in the wrong place and do not flower. Except for one that popped up in the ornamental grass garden, the rest are mowed down. But then more pop up.

Ah, bee balm! This is another plant that will get everywhere because of its spreading roots. I grew it once but years of digging and weeding in that particular area eventually killed all of it. Now I look at large fields of bee balm and wish I still grew some in a bigger, preferably fenced, backyard.

This weed with its yellow and orange flowers is known as the common toadflax, but I prefer its colloquial name of butter-and-eggs. It looks like a wild snapdragon.

More than a few times I have carefully picked the wild raspberries along the path while I've hiked. As you can see here, other people as well as birds also help themselves. The stem is full of large, very sharp thorns. I have found seedlings all over my backyard. If they are behind the floodwall I leave them but if they are in the garden plots or the lawn, they have to go.

Unfortunately, the jewelweed was not flowering at the time. Hummingbirds really like this late summer weed's orange or yellow trumpet flowers, especially when the birds need fuel to help them migrate south.

As I discovered last year, the county Parks Department mows down the fields of mugwort and the other weeds, including the ones I photographed, in October. But like all seeding, fruiting and spreading weeds, they'll be back next year. Of that I've no doubt.

An Assessment of Unusual Bird Activity in a Suburban Yard...or Why I'll Never Be the 'Scientist' My Husband Is

On yet another very rainy and windy May morning this week I sat on my enclosed porch with my first cup of coffee, as usual. I could hear the house wren that took over the nest box this year, the catbird, the robin, even a red-eyed vireo singing, as usual.

Then I heard something else, a sharper tone with a cadence of 2, 2, 2. That's not a catbird, I realized, that is a brown thrasher.

The Cornell Bird Lab people say brown thrashers "are accomplished songsters that may sing more than 1,100 different song types and include imitations of other birds, including chuck-will’s-widows, wood thrushes and northern flickers." The male sings a loud, long series of doubled phrases.

An unusually visible brown thrasher (RE Berg-Andersson)

They are also usually secretive, which is why I could hear the bird in my yard but couldn't see it.

This is not a new yard bird. I've heard them calling from the Community Garden area bordering the backyards of my neighbors across the street. However, this May I've been hearing a lot of migrating birds I usually don't hear in my yard - Canada and magnolia warblers, for instance - which I could identify when I was using the Merlin app on my phone.

My theory is that when the southerly winds blew warm air into my area, the migrant birds came with it. Then the weather changed. The cold winds blew from the north. Those birds that had not made it to their breeding areas hung around to rest and eat ahead of eventually continuing their journey. 

But the wind was still coming from the north and the rain was still falling hard, with flash flood warnings in my state. So after hanging around one area for a while the birds move to another, and that has included my yard. 

I made the mistake of mentioning the unusual bird activity to my husband (MH).

"You should write a blog about it," he said. "Look in your records and see if this truly is an unusual year."

Now, you have to understand that MH thinks more like a scientist than I do. It is one of the many differences between us. He is a researcher. When he wants to know about something he takes a lot of time to go through the many, many volumes he has piled throughout the house. He keeps records of weather, sports and other events in neat column rows in ledger notebooks. He can look up what happened on a particular date in a particular year in minutes.

One of many notebooks I've kept over the years.
(Margo D. Beller)

This is something I can't do. I keep records as journal narratives in my notebooks. A lot of notebooks. To find something, such as how long ago the Nashville warbler showed up in the apple tree, means I would have to skim through years of notebooks.

In doing this project I learned a lot of things, and not all of them were about birds.

First, I realized yet again I will never be able to think the way MH does. My brain just does not work that way. Second, the way I keep records is not useful. It was hard for me to read more than a page of my handwriting because I tend to write quickly before I forget details. Some people keep journals to remember. I seem to keep them to do a brain dump. Trying to read through all the scrawled words I had put down over the years made me frustrated.

Third, until recently I had been using Merlin to alert me to birds singing around me. Merlin would hear things I didn't or couldn't. So every day I would stand in the yard to find out what was calling.

Which leads to: Fourth, I can be obsessive about spring migration birding.

I learned from my scrawls that when I could, in the past, I would do most of my May birding away from home. When I was working in an office that meant going out on the weekends, or very early in the morning if I was working from home. 

Now I'm retired and that has made a big difference. I no longer feel the need to "get it in" before giving my time to others. I can bird any weekday I want. However, there are many mornings when I rise early and can't get myself going for several hours. Those times are when I sit on the porch or in the backyard with my coffee and listen to what is singing or calling around me. Over a recent 10-day period that has been a lot of birds.  

Back to my research. 

(Margo D. Beller)

Years ago MH had given me a book where I could record a week of bird sightings (see photo above), a variant of what he does with his weather and other data. So in looking at bird patterns for past years I started with this because I had crammed years of sightings onto each page and it was far easier than trying to get through over 10 years of bird notebooks.

I restricted myself to data from my front or back yard for the month of May. I noted obvious migrants, particularly the colorful, singing warblers. For most of the years there would be one or two unusual yard birds, but occasionally there would be a lot of birds. For instance, in mid-May 2016 there were three types of warblers plus a blue-gray gnatcatcher and a rose-breasted grosbeak. Unfortunately, I did not note the weather conditions for the period.

More recently, on May 24, 2020, a new bird came to the yard - a singing bay-breasted warbler male I could easily see in one of the lower tree branches. Four years later, several birds were in the yard in mid-May including northern parula, yellow and myrtle warblers, indigo bunting, rose-breasted grosbeak and, another first, a female summer tanager - a type of bird usually found in the south but increasingly showing up in bird reports for my area.

The migrant birds would usually pass through my yard for a day or so on the way to elsewhere. That's in addition to the regulars - the crows, woodpeckers, wrens, catbirds, red-eyed vireos, finches, sparrows and others - that either stay in my area all year or end up here to breed, such as the house wren. 

Screenshot of BirdCast migration radar from just after sunset on May 1.
The brighter the yellow, the more birds.

Then I turned to what I recorded in my most recent notebook for this month. On May 2 of this year I saw on the radar there had been a big flight of birds the previous night thanks to the strong winds from the south. That day the yard had yellow, myrtle, parula, black and white and magnolia warblers. According to the NOAA weather data MH collects of Newark, NJ, the temperature on May 2 reached near 90 degrees F. No surprise that with these warblers I could also hear nearby singing rose-breasted grosbeak, chipping sparrow and scarlet tanager. On May 8 the yard hosted American redstart, yellow, myrtle, parula and blackpoll warblers. Many blackpolls, usually one of the last of the warblers I hear, passed through the yard for over a week. (I found an abundance of migrant birds in other areas, too.) 

Then the temperature went down to more seasonal levels because of a cold front and the wind picked up. May has been particularly windy, according to MH's records, with gale force winds (39 mph or more) for several days and on at least one day reaching storm force (55 mph or more) mid-month. No wonder the Canada warbler that showed up on May 17 hung around for a few days until the wind was light enough for it to continue flying north.

More recently, it has been unusually cold with a strong wind out of the east and rain - nor'easter weather, not conducive to bird migration. Nor is it conducive to sitting in the yard.

So were there more unusual birds than usual, or was I spending more time in the yard than usual with an app that let me know what I was hearing? My best non-scientific guess? Both.

Cutting the Grass

We had a warm period in late February that melted all the snow and ice, including the hazardous area behind the enclosed back porch that gets little in the way of sun. The melting allowed me to put out feeders for the first time in a week. Birds were singing in profusion and I knew spring would be here soon.

The largest of the three ornamental grasses, October 2023
(Margo D. Beller)

So would the spring chores.

There are certain plants that should be left alone over the winter, and there are plants I don't bother to cut back in autumn because it is tiring to work around, over and behind the deer netting.

Now that I have more time to go birding during the week, I have little inclination to go out on the weekend when plenty of people with kids are at the parks. So on March 1, knowing from the weather forecast the wind would start blowing and the temperature would fall during the day, I went out into the garden. 

There are many chores I do in the spring. One is digging out finished compost, which I do sporadically. (I did it last year.) Another is deadheading the plants I left standing. The most important, however, is cutting back the ornamental grasses. 

Ornamental grasses are wonderful plants. They grow tall and wide and the deer don't eat them because the leaves, at least on the type I have, are thin and spiky. But like all plants, including my beloved daffodils (another plant deer don't eat because all parts are poisonous, including the flowers), when the growing season is done there is foliage to cut back. A lot of foliage.

After a long period of dryness we had rain in November
2024 and the grass went from brown to more of a gold
color not seen well in this photo.
(Margo D. Beller)

I was not ready to start work in the garden but I knew this had to be done because eventually the daffodils and other plants in this particular area were going to start growing. The three grasses I have were pummeled by rain, snow and especially wind. The northwest wind blew hard for much of the winter, another sign of changes in the climate as the Earth's oceans continue to warm.

So I planned to attack the plants from the rear. Except I discovered behind one of them that the daffodils had started growing much earlier than usual, even before the crocus, thanks to the unusual pattern of warm weather than followed this season's very cold winter. I also found the irises I had put here after dividing the ones in the front yard were growing, too. So on this particular grass my strategy had to change. (Getting to the other two to cut them back was easier.)

I was glad to see the plants had survived, tho' disturbed by how early they had shown up. The other week I was walking along one of my usual birding areas, Patriots Path, once the ice had melted and saw a phoebe. This flycatcher, a harbinger of spring migration, should've shown up in mid-March, not Feb. 25. And yet here it was, in an area by the Whippany River where I have seen and heard them before. Now that it has become cold and windy again, will it find the food it needs to survive?

I wondered that about the yard birds, too, when I couldn't risk falling on the ice to put the feeders out (a hungry squirrel that could jump over the baffle was another factor). But they managed and were quickly at the feeders once I put them out.

The largest of the grasses before the cutting in 2024.
(Margo D. Beller)

Back to the grasses. It took about two hours to cut the three of them, the largest of them taking the most time. When I was nearly done with that one the wind picked up strong, forcing me to hold down what I had piled in a large pail for composting until things calmed down. But now you can see the growing daffodils the foliage had covered.

As for the other grass - the lawn - it is still brown from its winter dormancy. Eventually it, too, will green and grow and the area will be filled with the noise and smell of lawn mowers. For now, in the renewed cold, it is quiet out there.

Which reminds me, once again I need a spring haircut, too. 

Grasses cut, daffodils exposed after last
March's cutting. (Margo D. Beller)

Snow More

So far this year 2025 has been filled with cold, snow and ice. And yet, according to my home state of New Jersey, January was one of the driest in history.

Says NJ.com about January, "Many areas of the Garden State have picked up less than an inch of total precipitation so far this month. That includes rain and all the liquid from melted snow and sleet, according to data from the National Weather Service." 

Scene from a recent snowstorm
(Margo D. Beller)

It was also very cold for a number of days. According to NOAA, "For those living in the southern, central, or eastern parts of the nation—who might have forgotten what winter could be like following last winter’s record-warmth—Mother Nature provided a hard-hitting reminder during January. Temperatures averaged below normal from coast-to-coast during the month, but periodic intrusions of Arctic air were most prevalent into the central and eastern U.S." 

Now, it's February. As I write the temperature is above freezing and it is raining. Our last snowstorm the other week dropped three inches of snow and one of ice, making it harder to shovel the front and back paths. Since then temperatures have risen above freezing during the day and then dropped at night, freezing the snow and making it more hazardous to get to the bird feeders. It is miserable out and, unless everything is washed away, it will continue to be icy for days.

According to NOAA again: The temperature outlook favors well above average temperatures across the southern and eastern parts of the nation, as well as in northern and western Alaska. Below-average temperatures are favored across parts of the northern and western U.S., as well as in southeastern Alaska. The precipitation outlook favors well above average precipitation in the Pacific Northwest, Northern Rockies, around the Great Lakes, in the Ohio and Tennessee Valleys, in the Northeast, and in western and northern Alaska, with below-average precipitation favored only in parts of the Southwest and Florida. (emphasis added) 

One of the redtail hawks I've seen near my house.
(Margo D. Beller)

The birds do not seem to mind all this strange weather. Several times I have seen a pair of redtail hawks flying around and landing in trees near my house. At this time of year they would be pairing, mating, creating a nest and having a brood. I have not found the nest yet, but I haven't had much opportunity to go out looking for it. (I haven't found a nest since 2012.)

In weather like this, when it is either raining heavily or extremely windy, the feeders are inside and the smaller birds have to fend for themselves. I don't like this but I can't fly over the ice to get to the poles, and the rain rots the seed.

Unfortunately, there is another reason for keeping them inside - one of the local squirrels has figured out how to jump on the baffle on one of the feeder poles and grab hold of the long feeder I put out after big snowstorms. (It holds more seed and I don't have to worry about leaving it out overnight because the bears are hibernating, but that will end in March.) The last time there was so much snow and ice the squirrels couldn't get to their stashes and the birds didn't drop enough for them to eat was in February 2014. That was a bad winter. The squirrels used the ice atop the snow piles as a step. This year the snow is a bit less but the one squirrel (who might be a female eating for six) is just as desperate.

This was from 2014. The feeder is the same, the
squirrel far different. (Margo D. Beller)

I used to like snow, until I became a homeowner who had to shovel it or pay someone to plow it from the driveway. Snow looks pretty until it starts to melt or, as is currently the case, gets rained upon. We have had more snow this month than we've had the last two winters. That's a good thing considering last September's drought but even with all the rain and snow we've had, my region of New Jersey is considered severely dry. Other areas are worse.

Thanks to climate change my area of the country has had milder winters with little in the way of snow, which contributed to the drought. What we're getting now is more "normal," though historically we are still getting far less snow than when I was a child. 

So, much as I hate to say it, I can only hope for more snow, ice and rain to ease the drought, and enough dryness in between to feed the birds.