The sun is noticeably rising later and setting earlier.  Last week the nights were sweater cool, a welcome break from the dog days of summer.  Those refreshing mornings, as I gave my potted plants an invigorating drink, I noticed that all was quiet on the home front, almost alarmingly silent.  Not a bird was singing, not one.

That thought prompted me to consider why.  Was there something wrong?  Usually, every morning, I turn on Merlin Bird to see who is awake with me.  Merlin wasn’t recording any bird song.  The only noise was the whir of the ceiling fans overhead.  Strange.  So, I thought about where the birds were.  Had the drought sent them into early migration?  It may already be time for some of my feathered friends to strike out on their way to winter hunting grounds. 

The meadowlarks have been few this year anyway.  Perched on the powerline over the hay field, they are always easy to notice as well as hear in the mornings, but I haven’t recorded one since the middle of June.  Their time with me began in March; so four months is short?  I love to have them watching from the wires as their preferred prey pass beneath.  Their shape, even at a distance, is so recognizable.  And the bluebirds will join their watch.

Then I heard from a year-round acquaintance, Carolina Wren.  She builds nests too close for comfort sometimes, like in the wreath on the front door or in the hanging basket or in the garage when I leave a door open too long.  But her loud calls echoed in the heavy air only to be returned by her own kind.

Early in the year, March again, the blazing red Summer Tanager came to sit on my old-fashioned antenna above the courtyard and roused me daily with his lyrical greeting.  Earliest of all, he was singing before full light, and for a couple of months at least, he sang almost all day, only ceasing as the light waned.  But now his voice is tired and he sounds his chorus casually from the tree line.  I’m really glad he is still with me though. 

Even the Mockingbirds, Jays, and Great Crested Flycatchers are hard to find lately.  These guys are hardy and usually always available for a pick-me-up call.  The Cardinals, too, seem few and far between, although I still catch them some on the recording, chip chipping.

And I’ve noticed the Woodpeckers are still around, Red-bellieds, Hairys, Downys, and of course, the Pileateds make their presence known with their distinctive knocks and occasional vocals.  You couldn’t really call their voices a song, sounding more like a jungle.  The Yellow-billed Cuckoo’s distinctive vocals resounded through the oaks in the deep summer months, but that is silent now.   Thrilling calls of Great Horned Owls going back and forth; the mating pair have assured me that they still watch over the fields.  And of course, a murder of crows has landed in the only sand around announcing their raucous attacks.  They hate my friends the hawks.  And the Blue Jays hate the crows.  A rare Fish Crow joins that group’s antics occasionally.  I wonder if he knows what he’s getting into?

One glorious swifty shows up for a brief time in great swarms over our mowed fescue fields, the Swallow-Tailed Kites.  They have only been over our fields for a few summers, but watching them glide and swoop is an immense pleasure.  And my favorite hawk seems to have had another clutch this year.  The Red-Shouldered family that returns each year has allowed a youngster to visit my dry backyard a couple of times while I peeked from the screened porch.  This family usually converses with each other midday in a unique almost talking cackle, and I’m always glad for their intimate conversations.

Time is coming shortly for the departure of my few glistening hummers.  These of the thousand wing beats were late arriving to my garden.  She, the mother of the group, usually comes early in the summer and hovers in front of me at the sunroom window demanding her feeder be filled, but I was late this year getting that job taken care of and my neighbor put up one for the first time.  So, I thought I’d let her care for them for a while.  That lasted until a clutch of young ones started coming by, and now I’m serving them again.  They must fatten up for their long journey coming up soon, you know.

A couple of wild bird calls I miss greatly are the quail and the whip-poor-will, and I think they are missing because of the coyotes that inhabit the forests now.  But one ground nesting fowl is holding its own, the wild turkey.  We’ve had five this year and that has been such a blessing. 

These feathered friends have blessed me with their antics, and these are only a few of the many who have found my little plot of grass and woods enjoyable this year.  But as fall arrives, and as the summer visitors sail away, and I wait, not so patiently, for the wintering flocks from the far north, I’ll watch the Blue Jays store their winter acorns, and the scoundrel squirrels steal as many as possible.  But I really do need to hear these feathered folks singing again.  Hope you can spend a bit of time with yours before the cold closes in on us all.  Visit Merlin Bird and add the app to your phone for the best use

Anne Peden, PhD
Greenville County Historic Preservation Commission
Fork Shoals Historical SocietyPiedmont Historical Preservation Society●