Springtime brings us lots of sounds that we don’t hear the rest of the year. Geese honk overhead, peepers peep and wood frogs chortle in the wetlands. Barred owls mating calls range from their typical “Who cooks for you” to something that sounds (to me) more like laughing hyenas. Towhees admonish us to drink [...]]]>

Springtime brings us lots of sounds that we don’t hear the rest of the year. Geese honk overhead, peepers peep and wood frogs chortle in the wetlands. Barred owls mating calls range from their typical “Who cooks for you” to something that sounds (to me) more like laughing hyenas. Towhees admonish us to drink our tea, tufted titmice shout for Peter, and the warblers sing their little hearts out.

All those nature calls led us to create an It’s Your Call challenge for all of our friends, volunteers, members, hikers, and blog readers. Come up with your own springtime “call” for the Nature Center. Your call won’t be auditory, instead it will be verbal. Actually, written.

Your call will be something that represents the Nature Center. It might be words that make you think of us or sounds that you hear in our woods. You might choose a few words that will make people want to hike our trails or visit our programs, or a call to action for the environment. You may have another creative way to interpret what a Pfeiffer Nature Center ‘call’ is.

Most animals have relatively short calls, so in keeping with that concept, you’re limited to a maximum of 43 characters, including spaces. You may want to think of it as a dramatically reduced tweet. Why 43? That’s how many characters are in our full name: Pfeiffer Nature Center and Foundation, Inc.

Send in as many calls as you’d like by April 30. Submit your calls as a comment on this post, email your calls to me – director (at) pfeiffernaturecenter (dot) org, leave them on our answering machine (716-933-0187), or send them to me on a postcard (PO Box 802, Portville, NY 14770).

I’ll post all the entries on this blog in early May. We’ll come up with a cool prize for the winner.

Here are two quite different calls to get you started:

• A possible tag-line call, only 34 characters: Celebrate nature, share the wonder
• A call that begs to be said out loud, only 15 characters.  Said/sung to the tune of the Rufous-sided Towhee’s call: PNC, it’s for me!

Have fun with this!

Black-capped Chickadee

Members of the titmouse family, small, plump, & aggressive chickadees are full of personality.  They are acrobatic as they dance around tree branches, never staying in one place for long.  Their black bib & cap, combined with their white cheeks, gives their faces a striking appearance.  Their loud “bi-dee-dee-dee” call makes them [...]]]>

Black-capped Chickadee

Members of the titmouse family, small, plump, & aggressive chickadees are full of personality.  They are acrobatic as they dance around tree branches, never staying in one place for long.  Their black bib & cap, combined with their white cheeks, gives their faces a striking appearance.  Their loud “bi-dee-dee-dee” call makes them sound louder than they really are.  On sunny days, a loud, whistled “pheer-pheer” welcomes spring.  In summer, they nest in tiny cavities in tree trunks or hollow limbs.  They can be found throughout New York year-round.  At feeders, they prefer black oil or striped sunflower seeds. 

Blue Jay

Bold, loud, & clever birds, blue jays are members of the crow family. They can be found throughout New York year-round.  Larger than a robin, a blue jay adds a dazzling splash of color to New York’s winter landscape.  When nervous, it holds its blue crest up.  A single “flight feather” from a blue jay is beautiful, with a combination of blue, black, & white.  Their calls are well known: a “screaming jay” call & another that mimics the sound of a hand-operated water well pump.  Blue jays can eat a large quantity of food at feeders, making them less welcome to some birdwatchers.

Tufted Titmouse

A relative of the chickadee, the gray, tufted titmouse looks something like a cross between a chickadee & a blue jay.  With a blue-gray crest & back, large dark eyes, & tan-colored under parts, the titmouse is unmistakable.  They are found throughout New York, except the north country.  Like chickadees, titmice are cavity nesters, & like cardinals, they are shy at feeders.  It is also another bird whose call announces the coming of spring, its call is a loud, whistled “pheer-pheer-pheer.”

Northern Cardinal

The unmistakable brilliant red, crested, black-faced male cardinal is a favorite of birdwatchers.   But male & female cardinals do not look alike.  Females are much browner, with a splash of red-orange on the wings, tail & head.  Perhaps aided by bird feeders, cardinals are expanding their range northward, especially along Lake Ontario’s eastern shores & into St. Lawrence Valley.  Ground feeders, they often feed under birdfeeders, picking through seeds that other birds spill.  Cardinals area bit timid at feeders; they may be the fires to leave at the slightest disturbance.  Cardinals have several well-known songs, including “birdy-birdy-birdy” & “What cheer, what cheer, what?” sung loudly from a perch.

I recently took Rick Miller, reporter for the Olean Times Herald, on a walk through part of our Lillibridge Road property. He took many photos, and posted them as a slide show on YouTube. Check it out!

Fritillary on Echinacea

Instead, point your camera at all things natural. Shoot video or stills. Edit and organize your work, and submit it into our third annual Pfeiffer Nature Center Film Festival!

Puff Balls

I found sound challenging to capture in a silent, still photo. You be the judge of how well I did.

Bzzzzzzzzzzz

Bzzzzzzzz

Yellow Bellied Sapsucker

Sapsucker [...]]]>

I found sound challenging to capture in a silent, still photo. You be the judge of how well I did.

Bzzzzzzzzzzz

Bzzzzzzzz

Yellow Bellied Sapsucker

Sapsucker at work

A man-made sound of spring

Spring Rain

Spring waterfall

Wind Chimes

It’s your turn – what’s pleasing YOUR ears this spring?

by Peg Cherre, Executive Director

I had three pairs of robins make nests in various places on my house this spring. Two of them were tucked into nooks on my front porch. It was a bit of a problem, since the robins were understandably distressed when I sat on my porch. I know it’s silly, but I modified my [...]]]>

I had three pairs of robins make nests in various places on my house this spring. Two of them were tucked into nooks on my front porch. It was a bit of a problem, since the robins were understandably distressed when I sat on my porch. I know it’s silly, but I modified my behavior and didn’t spend as much time on the porch as I would have.

One day I figured I’d sit out under my back roof overhang. I was surprised when a robin was upset by that, too, until I discovered the third nest – made right on top of a rickety old ladder leaning up against the house. That blocked me sitting there, too.

Robin's egg after the babies hatched

The babies have hatched - 5/27

Robin babies, just 6 days after hatching

The babies are always hungry!

Robins ready to go

I decided to get my old outdoor broom and see if I couldn’t get the baby up on the bristles and lift him out. It really wasn’t too difficult, and he didn’t seem at all frightened. I carried him on the broom and set him back on the nest. Everyone else had already left, and he looked at me like, “Hey, I shouldn’t be here – I have to leave!” I just walked away and left him to his own devices. I haven’t seen any of the babies since.

Leave me a comment – see anybody raising young in YOUR neighborhood?

by Peg Cherre, Executive Director

I’ve already told you that most days I walk early in the morning, before the sun is really up. The birds are just awakening, and the greet me each day with lovely songs.

But, as I’ve mentioned, since it’s not fully light, I rarely see the birds, I have to identify them by sound [...]]]>

I’ve already told you that most days I walk early in the morning, before the sun is really up. The birds are just awakening, and the greet me each day with lovely songs.

But, as I’ve mentioned, since it’s not fully light, I rarely see the birds, I have to identify them by sound alone. As you can imagine, this leads to many puzzles. My CDs of birdsong, with about 100 birds in New York State on them, help out a lot. However, since New York is a big state, there are birds on there I’ll never hear near my home, especially the water birds, and others that I do hear but aren’t on the disks. That’s the situation I was in a few years ago.

One morning before dawn I was at the top of my road, near a meadow. I heard a new bird call I’d never heard before. I stopped walking and listened, and it seemed that the bird was flying around directly overhead, and not too high. The sky was light enough for me to see the bats flying, but this was no bat, and there clearly were no other birds in the sky near me. Without the aid of even my eyeglasses, much less field glasses, I saw nothing, and ultimately ended up walking home.

Then next morning, there was the mystery bird again. This time, it seemed that he followed me across the length of the meadow before seeming to fly overhead. Was he attracted by the sound of the bell I wear in the wee hours to warn bear, porcupine, raccoons, and other wildlife to move away? It seemed so. But I never could see anything.

This went on for days. I tried describing the sound to expert birders and interested friends alike. I don’t whistle, and this bird wasn’t making a whistling call anyway. So I’d hum in a particular rising note pattern that the bird made consistently, all the while using my hand to wiggle the skin of my neck. (And doesn’t that paint a pretty picture?!) No one could ID my mystery bird.

I then figured that maybe it would be important to know if the bird was only there in the early morning, or also at other times in the day. So I made several trips up the hill at various hours. My little feathered friend was consistently present at dawn and dusk, but never any other time. By now I’m spending lots of time in the middle of the road at odd hours, sometimes driving up there, but usually walking the two-mile round trip.

My next step was to bring my cell phone on my morning walk with me. Call someone at 5:15 A.M. to see if they can hear a bird call. Go ahead, I dare you! Actually, I had warned my friend that I would do this, and being an early riser herself, she was up for it. But unfortunately the song was soft enough that it didn’t travel through the phone.

Not yet defeated, I borrowed a friend’s little battery-operated voice recorder. In fact, she had two of these little devices, so I borrowed both, not knowing which would be more sensitive. Back up the hill again, I tried both recorders with no luck — all I heard was static when I played the tapes back.

I am nothing if not persistent, and just couldn’t give up. I just kept asking everyone. Finally I asked the right person – a friend who, years before, had lived downhill from where I heard my crepuscular caller. She thought she had not only heard, but also seen my mystery bird, and gave me yet another clue to follow up on, with a potential bird’s name. Now I’m off to the internet, trying to find an online recording of this little guy. Although “common” is in his name, a recording of his voice is nowhere near as common as many other birds. But at last I found one, and did a positive ID.

Common Snipe

Have you guessed what it is yet? It’s Gallinago gallinago, the Common Snipe. If you listen to his voice on the linked page, it’s not his sharp chip I was hearing, but the warbling rise and fall at the end. There’s a swamp nearby, and this long-beaked water bird somehow figured that he’d find a sweetie in the meadow at the top of the hill. I doubt I’ll hear him on my road again, because someone built a house where he’d been, but it sure was a fun time solving that puzzle!

What was your greatest birding mystery?

by Peg Cherre, Executive Director

I’m a morning person. My routine, 7 days a week, is get up, throw on some sweats, and go outside with the dog for a nice, long walk. On days when I’m working at Pfeiffer Nature Center, that walk happens at about 5:00 a.m. Since that’s dark most of the year, I walk up [...]]]>

I’m a morning person. My routine, 7 days a week, is get up, throw on some sweats, and go outside with the dog for a nice, long walk. On days when I’m working at Pfeiffer Nature Center, that walk happens at about 5:00 a.m. Since that’s dark most of the year, I walk up my dirt road at that hour.

I know that seems ungodly to some people, but I really enjoy the early morning walks, particularly between April and October. I get to see the moon & stars, watch the sun come up, and listen to the true dawn chorus.

If you’re a birder, you know that the dawn chorus is the pleasant time when the birds sing their morning songs. If you’re a late sleeper, you know that too, although your name for it might be a little less favorable.

Most of my road is wooded, but at the top there are some mowed fields, so I get to hear both woodland birds and meadow birds. Because of the early hour, I rarely see any of them, so I have to rely exclusively on my ears. Not an easy task, at least not for me.

Common Yellowthroat

On the same fine, spring morning that the Common Yellowthroat sang his hello to me, I also heard someone else for the first time this year. With a bright, clear song that I interpret as sweet-sweet-you, it was the lovely Magnolia Warbler. He’s since been singing in my yard, too, making that positive ID easier.

Then on May 13 I heard someone new again in that meadow. The song was consistent, and I believe it to be either a warbler or a thrush, but my online searches have not helped me out yet. It’s sound? Wish I could tell you better, but it was deeee-doooo-trill. The deee was a higher note than the doooo. Pretty unhelpful, isn’t it?! When I get home I’m going to listen to my favorite resource for identifying bird calls, Birds of New York book by Stan Tekiela, with its accompanying CD of actual recorded bird song. There are many other good options out there, this just happens to be the one I have access to.

The latest newcomer to my morning ear was on May 19, when I heard my first Veery of the year. To my ear, it sounds like this little thrush is in the woods playing two notes at once on a tiny wooden pan flute. Their song is so sweet and musical, it draws me into the shaded woods.

Leave me a comment – What birds are you hearing or seeing now?

by Peg Cherre, Executive Director

It’s spring, and a young man’s fancy turns to love. So does a young hawk’s, a young newt’s, a young chipmunk’s, a young…well, you get the picture.

Last month I couldn’t sit on my porch or take a walk without feeling like I should be averting my eyes. Birds, salamanders, you name it, they [...]]]>

It’s spring, and a young man’s fancy turns to love. So does a young hawk’s, a young newt’s, a young chipmunk’s, a young…well, you get the picture.

Last month I couldn’t sit on my porch or take a walk without feeling like I should be averting my eyes. Birds, salamanders, you name it, they were all in the throes of passion. Or attempting to be. Every creature was intent on replicating itself, of passing on its genes to its progeny, ensuring that the species would continue.

Many of those eggs have now hatched.

The ditch near my house is home to wood frog tadpoles that I enjoy watching getting bigger every day. But if we don’t get some continuing rain, those babies will die before they grow legs and leave the water. In dry springs, my kids always wanted to scoop them up and move them someplace wetter. They really didn’t understand, or care about, my lessons on how life works, survival of the fittest, and all that rot. Me, if the water starts drying up, I make it a point not to stop and look; although I won’t interfere, I find it too sad to watch nature take its course.

Phoebes nest under my porch every year. I get to watch them as they make their never-ending rounds of my yard, snapping up all manner of flying things to feed their hungry babes. I find it amazing that I can often hear a quick “snap” when their beaks close on a meal. I can only imagine how hard that beak has to close to make a noise that’s audible to me many feet away!

I could go on about young love and young life, but I’d rather hear what YOU have to say about it! Leave me comments!

Peg Cherre, Nature Center Director