We’ve had a Rose-breasted Grosbeak at our feeders for the past month. It was here again this morning, Dec. 1. This is a late appearance for this species. It’s sort of tattered looking, an incomplete molt probably. It quietly sits on the feeder edge or on our watering pan, fluffed up in the cold. Obviously, it hasn’t been moved yet to hit the migration trail. By now it should be in deep southern Mexico or northern South America. Bob Janssen’s Minnesota birding bible (Birds of Minnesota, UM Press 1987), listing distribution and migration information, shows three dates in November when this species has been reported in the southern half of the state. There are two December dates, the 2nd and the 17th. Of course, the book is 20 years old and other reports might exist, but our bird, for whatever reason, is beginning to take a run at the record book. Two more days and second place is his alone.

  I have purchased what I long considered a little-old-lady bird feeder. It’s plastic, with a tiny tray for seeds, one of those attach to your window with suction cups. I prefer large feeders that fit weekly attention. The new feeder is sort of cute, and I can’t stand cute except in grandchildren. But, I now find myself standing six inches from feeding chickadees. I can almost press my nose against the glass. Amazing! We attached the feeder to the glass of a patio door. We already had birds coming to a thistle-seed feeder that hangs from the soffit there. That obviously was an aid to attendance. Finches and chickadees have been regular visitors. The new feeder has added nuthatches, a Downy Woodpecker, and two migrant Rose-breasted Grosbeaks late in leaving town. This little plastic gizmo has become the first place we check for birds. Cost fourteen bucks and worth every penny. Â

 The brains of some birds shrink in the winter to lighten the bird’s body mass. And remembering where they cached food for the winter helps chickadees produce new brain neurons. You don’t hear much birdsong in the fall. This is non-breeding season, so courtship or territorial song is unnecessary. So unnecessary, in fact, that in certain species, Song Sparrows for example, the part of the brain used for song shrinks. This makes song impossible while reducing the weight the bird must carry. Wild chickadees, active in fall storing food for winter, produce three times as many new brain neurons as captive chickadees, which need not remember where those sunflower seeds were hidden. Aging human brains are supposed to benefit from challenging use. The same appears to apply to backyard birds. This information comes from reports published by the American Association for the Advancement of Science. The photo is of a Black-capped Chickadee.

 Federal duck-stamp competition and surrounding events begin Saturday with display of the 2008 stamp art contest entries at the Bloomington Art Center. There are many events scheduled through Oct. 18, the day the 2009 stamp winner will be announced. You’ll be hard pressed to find a better opportunity to view wildlife art, take tours and wildlife walks, learn about wildlife photography, learn to identify birds, meet some of the nation’s most talented wildlife artists, and participate in the excitement of the contest itself, including announcement of the winner. For a complete schedule, go to web site www.fws.gov/duckstamps/contest_events.htm

 This is a good rule to follow when identifying birds: the simple and common answer almost always is the correct answer. Take the Black-headed Grosbeak for example. It is a species found west of the Missouri River. It has been recorded in Minnesota, but not annually. The problem is that female and juvenile Black-heads closely resemble female and juvenile Rose-breasted Grosbeaks, a common Minnesota species. Separation of the two species is possible with a good look at the breast and/or underwing linings. So, with perhaps a fleeting view or a less than perfect view, the least likely but most exciting possibility can come to mind: a Black-headed Grosbeak is at my feeder. This happens here every fall. This misidentification probably was not nearly so common in the days when bird ID books contained only eastern North American bird species or only western. That way, we did not see Black-heads and Rose-breasteds side-by-side as we do today in the Sibley, National Geographic, and new Peterson guides, for example. The common answer was the only one we had. The bird pictured here is a juvenile Rose-breasted Grosbeak (I think).

 For a superb and concise discussion of 10 hummingbird myths (misunderstandings), visit the Web site of Hilton Pond Center for Piedmont Natural History – http://www.hiltonpond.org/ThisWeek080715.html. This is always an interesting site, updated weekly. The photos here were taken recently near Lutsen, on the North Shore. An adult male Ruby-throated Hummingbird, defending his feeding territory, attacked a juvenile hummingbird of the same species. That bird was injured in the attack, and possibly died.Â

Here is an excellent birding magazine Internet site to check out. “Living Bird,” published by the Cornell Lab of Ornithology, has won the Edustyle “People’s Choice” award for best magazine site in 2008. The spring issue can be found at www.livingbird.org. The magazine has for a long time offered the best bird photography of any birding publication. It’s definitely worth a look.

   We were in Churchill, Manitoba, in mid-June for some birding. This was high season there, so other birders also patrolled the roads. On one stretch of tundra we mingled with a small birding-tour group. It included a man wearing a red rain outfit. One of his companions were overheard muttering, “Doesn’t he have any color but red?” Birds are sensitive to color. Bright colors generally are considered a bad idea. The theory is that primary colors and close relatives are unnatural, more visible, and therefore more likely to spook birds. It makes more sense to blend with the habitat — tans and browns and grays, natural colors. Who outfits you for birding, Tommy Hilfiger or Eddie Bauer?  Â

Al writes to tell me that Barn Swallows are bothering his bluebird nest boxes. They’re nesting in them, he says. How is he handling this? He’s shooting them. No, no, no, no. Can’t shoot songbirds. There’s a federal law against that. Plus, his ‘problem’ birds can’t be Barn Swallows. That species doesn’t nest in boxes. His birds have to be Tree Swallows, the bluebird’s friend. Tree Swallows use nest boxes. This is the theory: If you place two nest boxes close to each other, say 15 feet apart, swallows will occupy one and then defend that territory from use by another pair of Tree Swallows. This leaves the second box for bluebirds (or House Wrens or Black-capped Chickadees). The swallows don’t care if bluebirds are close neighbors. They don’t compete for food. Both eat insects, but swallows capture bugs on the wing while bluebirds pick them from the ground. Problem birds? How do you handle it?

A few days ago Sharon who lives beside a marsh wrote to ask me about a bird that sang not only all day but also most of the night. What could it be, she asked. She thought birds were daytime singers.

Yes, many birds gear up for music with dawn, sometimes the first vague hint of dawn. Robins, for instance, will be singing at unholy early hours on early summer mornings, 3 a.m. maybe.  

Sharon most likely was hearing a Sedge Wren, a tireless singer of a rather monotonous song. Its habitat is grassy marsh edges. It could cause you to crank the bedroom windows shut.

Sedge Wrens are operatic tenors, however, when compared to Whip-poor-wills. Whip-poor-wills are loud, persistent, and insistent. I remember them from the days when we lived in the woods in northwestern Wisconsin.

On warm spring and summer nights this romantic sound would come from some brushy pasture far across the lake. It was romantic because it was distant and faint.

The bird has been clocked at as many as 59 calls per minute for more than 15 minutes at a stretch. If you lived next door to that, murder could enter your mind.

Anybody know of Whip-poor-wills calling in or around the metro area?  The closest I’ve found is along the Minnesota River near Chaska.