What would you do if your nest was suddenly discovered by a gang of hungry crows and they were looking intently at your eggs? 

You have the choice to either let the crows steal from you or to eat your own babies.  This is one of my theories about what happened in this bird language story. 

So which option would you choose in a world where food is extremely valuable & dangerous to get?

A couple years ago in early summer I was outside cooking some burgers on the BBQ and enjoying the nice weather we were having.  It was a fairly active afternoon and there were lots of birds around feeding and singing... a great opportunity for observing a variety of bird behaviors. 

This was fairly early on in my bird language explorations but I had been listening a lot and had begun to figure out how to tell the difference between when the birds are in their baseline activities versus when they're agitated about something.  So when the feeling of the landscape started to shift I knew something was going on. 

Suddenly it seemed like every bird in the whole area had been drawn to the back of my property and were now alarming in amazing numbers.  I heard robins, flickers, chickadees, goldfinches, sparrows, juncos and several other species that I didn't even recognize.  Something intense was happening. 

I left the burgers in the care of a responsible party and ran out to the woods to see what was happening.  I moved quietly through the trees and bushes following where the sound was coming from.

When I got to the back of the property the sound was immense.  I knew it was just a little bit further before I would be in sight range of whatever was causing these alarms. 

I had to get on a sneak trail that went between thick fir trees & the neighbors fence but eventually managed to find a clearing where I could see out across a lawn to spot the culprit.  It was a big Northern Goshawk perched just below the canopy in a red maple tree. 

This was the first time I had ever successfully used bird language to spot a predator.  I was thoroughly thrilled and amazed to witness this incredible scene. 

I zoomed out my gaze to watch the ball of birds surrounding the hawk and was struck by how geometrical it was.  The consistency with which they kept their distance and the sheer quantity of birds involved in the alarms made it really clear to me that alarms really do have a shape. 

After watching in awe for a few minutes I knew the food would be getting ready so I decided to head back to the house.  All the way back I could still track the sound and hear the rising and falling intensity of the birds surrounding the hawk.

The alarms continued for a few more minutes and then the hawk must have flown off because the birds started to settle down and re-initiated their feeding frenzy.

For the last few weeks I've been putting in a lot of time at my sit spot during the evenings.  One of the things I've noticed is that the robins are in a large group right now.  They've been bunching up for a while in preparation for migration. 

I always like that time of year when the robins break away from their territories and start roaming in larger groups because I'll go a long time without seeing any and then all of a sudden my lawn will be covered with dozens of birds all at the same time.

These days I haven't been seeing them much in the evenings except when they head off to their nighttime roosts.  I only hear them briefly if at all and then they're done for the night.  But last week I noticed an interesting pattern when I would sit before sunset.

I noticed that in the middle of my sits I would see the flock fly up into the big red spruce tree in my front yard.  They would act nervously and look around for a few minutes, then they would fly west over and around the house and they'd be gone.

This same pattern repeated day after day.  I was so curious about why they were doing this because it seemed like they were agitated but I wasn't quite sure what was triggering it.  After seeing this pattern repeat a few times I gained a new piece to the puzzle.

One evening I was sitting out at my spot when I noticed the flock going up into the red spruce again.  They looked around nervously.  Some of them made a call and then kept going but more came in behind them to fill the space.

There were a lot more robins this time than there had been previously.  I could feel a tension building in my body as I felt more & more sure that something was coming.  A mourning dove blasted away from our feeder with whistling wings and then the rest of the robins gave a "tsip!" call and flew in suit.

For a brief few seconds it seemed like there were birds flying every which way in total mayhem until around the side of my house came a sleek flying predatory bird moving north to south.  I couldn't believe how fast it was flying as it swerved through the trees and out of view. 

The birds settled down pretty quickly after it left but I took longer to settle.  I've had so many questions about the activities of the predatory birds on this property & my mind was spinning with excitement about what I just saw. 

The next evening I went out again to see if I could learn anything new. 

Just like the day before... the Robins started gathering up and moving through the landscape in a hurry.  I was watching and waiting and finally I saw it...  Swooping this time from the opposite direction, our hunter flew right through my yard.

-  When will our resident bird eater strike again?
-  How long can the robins maintain their evasion?
-  What will happen when the leaves fall and there's no more cover?

Stay tuned to find out!

One day in early autumn I was walking along a gravel road that led to the house where I lived in western Washington.  I was coming down the final hill to a place where a creek flowed under the street when I started hearing song sparrows alarming intently at something in the transition area. 

I had heard song sparrows alarm many times before but this was the first time in my bird language career when I noticed a distinctly syncopated rhythm to the alarm calls.  Hearing the multiple birds calling in this way created a strange acoustical effect that made it sound like they were both trying to talk over each other. 

It caught my attention and I was very curious to figure out what was happening.

As I moved in more closely I slowed down & started walking softly so that I wouldn't disturb whatever scene was taking place.  The feeling I got from the whole situation was an intense fear for safety coming from the sparrows.  It was as if that fear was coming through the sounds they were making. 

As I peered over the edge of the street I suddenly saw the source of their distress as a small bird about the size of a robin popped up to land on a vine maple. It looked me right in the eye and I could see it's hooked beak, large eyes and curious stare clearly in front of me.  It was a pygmy owl! 

The sparrows responded to the new location of the owl and adjusted their views to account for the zone of safety they had to maintain around it.  They seemed really worried...  I had seen pygmy owls before(even one in the midst of eating a varied thrush) but never with this much alarmed intensity around them.

What was it about this owl that had stirred up the sparrows so much? 
Was it hunting time?  Does this owl have a reputation along the creek?
Maybe the alarms had always been there and I just hadn't noticed them.

I watched as the pygmy owl flew down the creek & out of sight only to be chased by the sparrows.  It was cool to notice that I could hear the location of its new perch by following the movements of the sparrow alarms.

I listened for a couple more minutes and then the sounds started to die off.  The sparrows came back along the creek towards me and went back to their usual maintenance behaviors.

Realizing that the owl had flown off in the opposite direction I continued on my way and left the song sparrows in peace.

A few weeks ago I went to Ontario to assist with a program called the Art of Mentoring.  It's a big gathering of naturalists, mentors and people curious about nature connection.   We come together once a year for a week of learning about nature and methods for connecting people outside as a community.

The tenting area was a fairly long distance from where we would meet up in the morning.  In order to get to and from the tent meadow you had to either take a dirt road that went along side a horse paddock or walk along the trail that went parallel to the road on the other side of the horse paddock. 

On the first night I was there I decided to take the trail instead of the road to get back to my tent.  It was already dark and I walked swiftly but quietly along the trail, straining my ears to listen to all the subtle sounds in the bushes.  The cool air was wonderful and a beautiful starry sky stretched out overhead. 

This area had a lot of deer, raccoons & skunks.  I wasn't worried about the deer and raccoons but I certainly wasn't interested in upsetting any skunks. 
Attempting to detect skunks when walking along a dark trail at night definitely peaks your senses & gives you good incentive to pay close attention to your surroundings.

As I approached the horse pasture I heard a sound coming from an old shed.  I stopped & listened for a little while.  It sounded like some sort of animal.  Maybe a weasel?  Or a raccoon? I couldn't be sure but I was tired from the day of travel so I kept going and had a great sleep under the stars.

The next morning I woke up early and started heading back along the trail.  The birds had already woken up and were making various dawn songs & feeding calls.

As I was walking alongside the horse paddock I started hearing song sparrows alarming maybe 100 yards up the trail.  It sounded like they were alarming at some sort of ground predator.

As I scanned up the trail I realized that the alarms were coming from very close to that old shed I had passed the night previously.  the birds were perched almost exactly where I had heard the noise from that animal.  This was my chance to figure out what was going on.

As I approached the shed I slowed down & started watching for any sort of movement in the bushes.  I caught a glimpse of one of the sparrows & noticed that it was looking to the other side of the trail.  That's when I noticed shaking & movement of a young tree out past a big patch of goldenrod that bordered the trail.  My mystery animal was right on the other side of that goldenrod.

I started stalking into the bushes being careful not to make too much noise. 

As I got in to the center of the bushes I saw movement from an animal but it was still too hidden to tell what it was.  I was watching for when it would come into view and then suddenly two juvenile raccoons rolled right out into an opening where I could see them perfectly!

They seemed to be play fighting because they were grabbing on to each other and rolling around on the ground.  I watched them for a couple minutes as they did this and heard some of their whimpering calls to each other. 

I wasn't sure if there were more around and I wondered if their mother might be nearby but I didn't see her.

After a few minutes I slowly stalked back out of the goldenrod so I wouldn't disturb them and headed off on the trail with much gratitude for the sparrows that helped me solve another mystery.

Three years ago I took a trip to the Olympic Peninsula with my classmates from a year-long nature immersion program I was taking part in.  We were spending our time in an old growth forest that had massive Sitka spruce, Doug fir & cedar trees edging along a big sandy beach where you could spot sea otters & sea lions & lots of shorebirds. 

We had hiked out to the ocean in the morning and spent the day on the beach.  It was a full day of nature mysteries, tracking and exploration.  As the afternoon waned we headed back to our camp next to one of the lakes further inland. 

The trail took us along boardwalks and dirt paths through bogs & forest with huckleberry & other wild edibles.  I was separated between two groups & wasn't sure how much space there was ahead of me or behind me to the next person. 

This was early on in my learning journey with nature observation and I was focusing really heavily on learning to reduce my presence through the eyes of the birds so that I could walk in their territories without upsetting them.  I had been told that if you can learn to walk softly & not disturb the songbirds then you'll get to see more wildlife because the animals won't be forewarned of your presence by their alarms.

So I was walking along the trail using a style of movement that kept my footfalls quiet & when I would come across birds feeding on the trail I would wait until they were done or until they had moved off to the side so I could pass.  I got into a really nice, quiet rhythm & noticed that as I moved along I was hearing bird song around me in every direction.

After a few minutes of this I was moving through one of the bogs when I heard the sound of varied thrushes up ahead in the next wooded area giving out their thwapping alarm calls. 

"Did I cause those alarms? I must have missed something because they seem upset with me." 

Part of me felt like there might be an animal up ahead but I thought it was more likely that I had done something to disturb the birds.  I continued moving along the boardwalk to the wooded area still doing my quiet movement when suddenly I heard rustling off to my right in the bushes.  I stopped and looked but saw nothing. 

What was making that sound?

I slowly moved forward on the boardwalk & as I turned a corner I saw up ahead from 30 yards coming around the edge of a massive tree was the biggest black bear I have ever seen.  I was so shocked at this massive animal right in front of me.

My mind raced from the first moment I had heard the alarms, to the sounds in the bushes and then back to this bear in front of me.  I realized I was standing right in between the bear and whatever had been making that other sound.  What had I been hearing in the bushes?

Could it have been bear cubs? 

I started backing away just to be safe.  I didn't want to get in between a mama and her babies. 

It seemed like the bear hadn't spotted me but in my diligence to keep my eyes up as I backed away I had forgotten about a turn in the board walk.
I put my foot back one last step & fell right off the edge into the bushes with a crash. 

I peered up over the edge of the walkway just in time to see the bear bounding into the woods away from me.  I was glad to discover that this bear was more afraid of me than I was of it.  I never did find out what caused the rustling in the bushes beside me.

In my last post I shared a story of some amazing red fox connections that took place on San Juan Island.  Now I'd like to share some other observations of the complex interactions and concentric rings that were taking place there.

The concept of concentric rings comes from looking at how one action can set other things in motion.  It's like when you throw a stone into a still pond and see waves of energy emanating out through the water.  It teaches us to consider how the different elements of nature are interacting and how one event can ripple out and cause other events.  If you read this story carefully you'll notice numerous layers of these concentric rings taking place.  This whole study is fascinating to me.

So on with the story!

I mentioned yesterday that when we got out onto the prairie the first thing we noticed was a fox trotting along a trail up on the hill.  This is our starting point. 

It lay down in the sun & didn't move for quite a while.  I kept my eye on it and after about half an hour I noticed it was on the move again.  It was at that time that I noted two crows & an eagle fly overhead for the first time of the day. 

Something had shifted and there were now three species on the move.

The fox moved down the hill & started traveling along the flat prairie sniffing in holes & looking for opportunities to pounce on unsuspecting voles.  Then I noticed that coming up behind the fox was a large predatory bird.

It was a Harrier!  But what was it doing?  It was so ridiculously close to the fox that I can only assume it was following for some reason.  Harriers don't hunt foxes so there must be some other reason.

My question was answered as it pounced down on a small mammal in the wake of the fox.  The Harrier was using the plow of voles running for their lives to catch an easy meal!

But perhaps it wasn't as easy as it initially seemed... Because this story isn't over yet.

As the Harrier took off again to go find a spot to consume the vole, the crows came back onto the scene & started chasing the harrier.  Had they been watching that whole sequence with the fox & the harrier too?

They chased and squawked and eventually managed to force the vole out of the clutch of the large bird, but in all the excitement all three of them lost track of where the vole had landed.  It seemed as though after all this work... no one would be getting the meal.

I noticed as we moved through the rest of the prairie that from time to time we would see the harrier or catch a caw of the crows.  Over and over again we would come across dead voles lying abandoned in the field.  It would seem that this drama that we had witnessed was not a one time feature.

As morning turned to afternoon things settled down in the game of predator and prey but a new player made an appearance.  Riding on the thermals was one of the greatest concentrations of turkey vultures I've ever witnessed.  It's not surprising given the number of vole carcasses that were strewn about like a battle field.

I imagine that this is a story that repeats over and over again in that place.  As I put the different pieces of the story together it seems as though the harrier knew to watch the fox and the crows knew to watch the harrier and the vultures knew when to collect the spoils.

So what was the event that set this whole sequence in motion?
Who was the pebble that was thrown in the pond?

It's always incredible to me how open spaces can give us such an amazing glimpse into the complex interactions between the various hunters, prey and scavengers.

As time has gone on I've wondered about that day on the prairie.

Does that interaction repeat every day?
What happens in the other seasons?
How does the the eagle fit into this story?
What about the rabbits?

Maybe someday I'll get to go back and answer some of these questions.

A couple years ago I took a trip to San Juan island with a group of teens that were piloting a new once a month weekend nature connection program called The Wild Within.  San Juan island has a lot of red foxes and we were hopeful to see some of them. 

Part of the island is a big prairie with a forest edge on one side & the ocean on the other.  We had heard it's a great place to spot foxes and European hares so after we set up camp we headed over for a day in the field.

Almost as soon as we were out of the van we noticed up on one of the hills a rusty brown object moving along the grass.  It was our first fox of the day.  We watched it trot along and then find a place to lie down & soak in the morning sun.  Our adventure was already off to a great start so we headed off to explore the rest of the landscape. 

We wandered through the fields looking at wildflowers, signs of European hares, and watching the antics of harriers & crows fighting over voles(that's another story).  After wandering for about an hour we came across an area where there were pockets of shrubs segmenting the zone of the field we were in.  There were lots of edges & good hiding places for birds & other wildlife. 

As we were walking through this area we suddenly spotted an animal in a stalk along the edge of one of the shrubby pockets.  At first it looked like a cat because it was black and moving slowly along like a hunting feline.   

We lost sight of it and fanned out to see if we could spot it again.  That's when I noticed a small bird pop up maybe 3 ft into one of the shrubs.  Then another one popped up on a different shrub across an opening.  It looked like some sort of sparrow but it wasn't any sparrow I was familiar with.  They didn't make any sound of alarm but they had obviously been forced up by something on the ground. 

When we got a sight-line between the sparrows we saw our mystery animal.  It had a long snout, big pointy ears and a white tip on it's tail.  It was definitely a red fox... but why was it black?  We discovered that a large portion of the foxes on the island are a dark morph of the typical red fox.  It's strange to see families of foxes where brothers and sisters from the same litter can be two completely different colors.  Who would have thought?

The fox trotted off and weaved through the bushes.  It was impossible to see as it moved along but if you raised your eyes and looked out towards the area it was moving through you could see sparrows popping up one by one as the fox went along. 

This experience really taught me how important the use of the eyes can be for tracking bird language.  Anyone who didn't keep their eyes up & vision stretched out would miss the flickers of activity as the sparrow flew up popcorn style to show where the fox was moving through. 

To wrap this whole sequence as I followed the trajectory of the fox by watching the sparrows I managed to catch one last glimpse of the animal and confirmed my interpretation of the bird language.

That evening we were back at our campsite finishing our meal.  It was dusk and we were sitting around the fire recounting the stories from our day.  We chatted about wildflowers, hares, all the great tracking & just as someone brought up the foxes who should trot into our campsite and sneak along the edge of our circle but one of the dark morph red foxes.  What are the chances of that happening? 

It was awesome to develop those connections with the foxes and that was just one of the highlights from our experience on San Juan island.  I'll share more soon.

When I lived at the homestead in Washington I was participating in the second year of a two year nature connection & leadership program that took place in the foothills of the cascade mountains.  Besides my own learning journey around bird language & animal tracking, every week I was practicing mentoring & community development as a way to help local home school kids connect with nature. I didn't go into town much & I had lots of time to explore & learn about nature & other interesting topics like how to take care of chickens.  We had a small flock of six chickens and four ducks that provided ongoing nourishment and entertainment.

This particular story takes place one winter day when the weather was mild & all the robins were still up in the hills.  They hadn't yet been forced down into the valley because there was still a lot of insect activity during the daytime.  To save on chicken feed & give them a more natural diet we were free ranging the chickens and they were quite happily filling their crops with the fruits of their forage on a daily basis.

I was inside the house working on some tracking journals when I noticed the ducks outside giving off a repeating agitated alarm call.  I looked out the window but saw nothing except that the ducks & a couple of the chickens were all looking towards one edge of the field that couldn't be seen from my window. 

I went into a different room to get a better look and saw that the rest of our chickens were out in the front yard beside our driveway. They were all looking at something that was very directly visible from where I was now standing.  My heart skipped a beat.  There in the center of our driveway stood a big hungry bobcat and it had it's eye on our chickens. 

I ran to the front door & opened it to go out but just as I did, the bobcat pounced, grabbed one of our chickens and bounded over the edge of the road and down the little drop-off to the creek.  I couldn't believe it.  That bobcat just stole my chicken! 

Without even thinking about what I was doing I called out "HEY BOBCAT!" and ran to the other side of the road.  When I looked down the little 10 ft hill... there down by the creek looking up at me with wide eyes was the bobcat.  It was completely still and staring right at me.  We looked at each other for a few seconds & I had no idea what to do.  I felt torn between wanting to save the chicken & wanting to preserve my relationships with the bobcat.  The tracker in me realized this was a great opportunity to observe some rare hunting behavior & bird language.

I knew it was too late for the chicken so I called out again in a less confrontational voice & said "OK, you can have it."  As if the Bobcat was waiting for my permission it turned & trotted into the bushes. 

As I brought my attention away from the predator I noticed that all the robins in the area were watching & making a lot of agitated calls... whinnies and tutting sounds.  When I listened along the creek I could hear juncos making their characteristic tacking alarm call like the sound of stones tapping together.  I listened as the alarms moved slowly through the thicket & eventually came to a stop where I assume the chicken was consumed. 

Over the next 30 minutes the landscape gradually came back to harmony.  The birds were feeding again & we started keeping a much closer eye on the chickens for the next time the bobcat would try to steal a meal.

In my last post Crazy Sounds from Barred Owls I told the story of how I discovered a Barred Owl was responsible for some strange noises that I had been hearing around my property.  Today I'll share the mind blowing events that unfolded in the week that followed...

I had finally discovered that the strange noise being made in the treetops was a juvenile barred owl.  It was so strange to see how different yet similar they are to adults.  I couldn't really tell any difference in the field markings but there was something about the way the owl looked that screamed "inexperienced animal."

It was really fun to watch how the birds responded to this predatory energy in the landscape. 

When I first saw it up in the oak tree, all the woodpeckers that feed in our backyard were alarming and circling up to watch the owl.  This was the first time I could ever truly confirm hairy woodpecker alarm calls and it was very instructive to learn about their behavior.  They didn’t so much make any different calls than they usually do but their alarm calls were more frequent than usual and they hopped up the trees to make a big circle around the owl.  Nuthatches were getting in on the alarms too.  At one point the owl swooped in after one of the woodpeckers but missed.  He seemed to accept defeat at that point because he flew off and the woodpeckers chilled out.

Over the next few days I saw the owl a few more times.  Usually for a good part of every day I could go out and hear alarms coming from various parts of the landscape.  It was obviously hanging out close by.

Then one evening I was sitting at my desk when at the window I caught some movement out of my eye and heard the thwap as a large wing hit my window!  I was certain it was the barred owl and rushed to look out.  It seemed to have pounced on something and then disappeared.  I ran outside and looked out into the fading light over the lawn and sitting on top of our bean trellis was the Barred Owl.

It looked at me briefly & then swooped down into the garden.  That’s when I heard the airy whistle sound again but it wasn’t coming from where I expected.  I looked up and sitting on our pea trellis was a second Owl.

I couldn’t believe it.  Now there were two of them.  The first one flew up to a low perch and the newly located owl pounced down onto the lawn.  I found a place to sit and watch.  They did this sequence of behavior over and over again.  Perching low for a bit and then diving down apparently attempting to catch something on the ground. 

So what were they hunting? Can you guess what it was?

I was in utter amazement of what I was seeing and as the light faded the cricket chorus was incredible.  The scene seemed like something out of a fantasy.  It’s not every day you get to watch the synchronized hunting patterns of two Juvenile Barred owls. It seemed too good to be true. 

But I still had this question of what the owls were hunting.  Why do they keep pouncing down like that?  Are they missing their target?  Maybe they’re hunting something that’s very abundant. 

I watched one dive down and then like a vacuum of silence where it had pounced the cricket chorus stopped and I suddenly realized what they were hunting.  The cricket larder was on and they were having a feast on my lawn.  What better way for Juvenile owls to hone their hunting skills than by practicing with large tasty insects that make a lot of noise?

As the last light waned from the sky I moved quietly back across the lawn trying to not disturb the crickets in their songs and slipped inside the house to leave the owls in their hunting.