By Jules Cramer-Le

As a birder in New Jersey, I rarely have to travel outside the boundaries of my state to see amazing birds. Bird habitats of all kinds are within a two-hour drive of my home in central NJ. I have a network of local friends and contacts who let me know when something cool is sighted, allowing me to get up and chase at a moment’s notice.

But this December I had the opportunity to do something very different while attending my sister’s wedding in West Bengal, a state in Northeastern India. As we prepared to head out, I have to confess I was almost more excited to whip out my binoculars on the streets of Kolkata than to see my baby sister get married!

One of the pleasures of birding somewhere new is that everything is exciting. Here, it’s possible to get jaded by the common birds–I don’t jump for joy when I see a Red-bellied Woodpecker or White-throated Sparrow. In Kolkata, the House Crows and Mynas that were everywhere had me rapt. House Crows, unlike our American Crows, have a grey “hood” of feathers that makes them distinct, and they were constantly flying through the streets fussing and stealing garbage. One even tried to steal my wife’s dessert at the rooftop wedding reception!

The Common Mynas are in the same family as our local starlings, and they made a similar variety of weird chirps and clicks as they squabbled with each other or perched on fences to keep an eye on things. I’m sure that birders in West Bengal don’t find these birds interesting at all, but for me they were brand-new life birds.

My sister, knowing the kind of fanatic I am, picked a guesthouse that was only a few blocks away from a major city park, Rabindra Sarovar. That meant that every morning before breakfast I spent a few hours racking up new and gorgeous birds: Rufous Treepies, a kind of magpie with an incredibly long tail; Lineated Barbets, a weird green bird that looks like it’s coming off a three-day bender; Jungle Babblers, which are an unassuming grey-brown but more than have the personality to make up for it. The park includes a huge lake where Painted Storks and Indian Cormorants nest, and Bronze-winged Jacanas walked across lily pads on their huge, splayed feet. The trees were full of Yellow-footed Green Pigeons, which look like mangos when they perch, smooth and round and clustered.

We spent a day outside the city traveling to the border of West Bengal and Bangladesh. The rice fields were populated by Black Drongos, one of my top birds to see on the trip. The Drongo is a beautiful black songbird with a long fluttering tail, which helps keep the rice insect-free. We also saw four different kingfisher species — an Azure and White Collared Kingfisher, Red-breasted Common Kingfisher, the striking red and teal White-throated Kingfisher (which doesn’t just eat fish but hunts grasshoppers and other insects, allowing it to thrive in both dry and watery habitats) and the Stork-billed Kingfisher, which, as its name suggests, has an outsize pink bill.

The crop fields were full of Paddyfield Pipits and Oriental Skylarks, and out in the ditches Eastern Cattle-egrets and Red-wattled Lapwings stalked. One of my favorite sightings was in a wet area, where an Asian Open-bill pair was joined by Asian Green Bee-eaters and both Tricolored and Scaly-breasted Munia, tiny finch-like birds that are often sold as pets in the United States.

On our last few days in India, we visited the Kolkata Botanical Gardens, where we spotted Red-breasted Parakeets, a parakeet whose defining feature is the big red bill that makes it look like a muppet! My sister took us to an area called Shyamkhola, and as we wandered through paths in the bamboo, we were serenaded by an elegant White-throated Fantail.

Before we caught our plane home, we did one last tour of Rabindra Sarovar and were lucky enough to see one of the birds I’d been hoping for the whole trip–a Verditer Flycatcher. Unlike North America’s largely yellowish-brownish-greyish flycatcher species, it is a brilliant, shocking blue. It was a truly stunning way to end an amazing trip.

Now that I’m back, I have a new appreciation for my common birds. Every day, people visit New Jersey from all over the world. For them our red-breasted American Robins and brilliant Blue Jays are brand-new birds, worth getting excited about. That’s the joy of birding.

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Linda Stager

February in northern Pennsylvania can feel sparse and quiet. The woods are hushed beneath snow, streams run dark and cold, and many birds have long since gone south.

Yet for those who take the time to look up, winter reveals one of its greatest gifts: raptors. Hawks, eagles, owls, and falcons are not just surviving this season—they are thriving in it, turning frozen fields and river corridors into stages for some of the most compelling wildlife watching of the year.

Winter sharpens everything, including our ability to see. With leaves gone from the trees and grasses pressed low by snow, raptors stand out against pale skies and open landscapes.

A red-tailed hawk with its black necklace feathers, when perched on a roadside tree, becomes impossible to miss, its silhouette bold and confident. Bald eagles, once rare in Pennsylvania, now patrol rivers and reservoirs, their white heads easy to spot against steel-gray winter skies and dark pines.

Cold weather concentrates both predators and prey, making winter one of the best times to observe these birds at work. Northern Pennsylvania’s open valleys and agricultural fields are especially attractive to wintering raptors. Voles and mice tunnel beneath the snow, leaving faint trails that these skilled hunters can read with astonishing precision.

Northern harriers skim low over marshes and meadows, their owl-like faces tuned to the faintest rustle beneath the snow crust. Short-eared owls make their appearance each new year and cruise open grasslands at dusk. And those speedy (and gorgeous-looking) peregrine falcons are heart-stopping to see. Each species brings a different hunting style, a different rhythm to the winter landscape.

Rivers and lakes tell another raptor story. Where open water persists, bald eagles gather, sometimes in surprising numbers. In Tioga County, where I live, large numbers of mature and immature eagles gather at the tailrace of the Tioga Hammond dam, where the open waters and abundant shad make for easier fishing.

February is not just about feeding — it is also the beginning of nesting season for eagles in Pennsylvania. Courtship flights, nest repairs, and dramatic aerial displays often begin while snow still clings to the branches. Seeing an eagle carry a stick nearly as large as itself across a frozen valley is a reminder that life presses forward even in the coldest months.

Owls, too, define winter in quiet ways. Great horned owls begin nesting astonishingly early, sometimes with eggs laid while snowstorms still sweep through the region. Their deep hoots echo across valleys at dusk, a sound that feels as old as the hills themselves. Short-eared owls, more secretive, emerge at dawn and dusk over open fields, their moth-like flight a fleeting reward for patient watchers willing to brave the cold.

One of my favorite little owls, the eastern screech owl, sends out its haunting trill call on cool, dreary, and sometimes snowy afternoons.

And the magnificent snowy owl?
It delights viewers with its “Hedwick” look and soul-searching eyes.

What makes raptors especially compelling in winter is not just their beauty or their visibility, but what they represent. These birds sit at the top of the food chain. Their presence tells us something important about the health of the land. Clean water, intact habitat, and abundant prey all support raptor populations. When we see them hunting along roadsides, fields, and rivers, we are witnessing ecosystems capable of sustaining complex life—even in winter’s grip.

For photographers and naturalists, February offers unmatched opportunities. Snow provides a clean backdrop, simplifying compositions and highlighting form and motion.

Low winter light stretches shadows and adds drama to wings in flight. For those willing to dress warmly and move slowly, encounters can feel almost intimate: a hawk lifting from a fence post several yards away, an eagle gliding silently overhead, an owl rising unexpectedly from a snowy field.

There is something deeply grounding about watching raptors in winter. They embody resilience and patience. They wait, observe, and act only when the moment is right. In a season that can feel long and heavy, raptors remind us that stillness has purpose and patience has power.

As February unfolds across northern Pennsylvania, the landscape may seem quiet at first glance. But look again. Scan the treetops along the river. Watch the fence posts along back roads. Pause at dusk near open fields. Those amazing raptors are there—watching, hunting, enduring.

They are winter’s proof that wildness persists, even when the world is wrapped in snow.

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Bruce Buckle

There were eight of us from different walks of life. One of us was 80 years old, another just 20. We had one task: to count every bird we saw or heard during a cold but sunny Saturday in December. We were Lycoming Audubon volunteers participating in the National Audubon Society’s Christmas Bird Count, the nation’s longest-running community science bird project.

Our group was one of several traversing roads and trudging along paths within the “Williamsport Circle,” a designated count area with a 15-mile diameter centered on the “Green Bridge” that leads into Montoursville. This count circle stretches from just east of Pennsdale to west of Lycoming Creek, and from north of Warrensville southward to the Lycoming County Landfill along Rte 15. Other count circles in our region include the Northern Lycoming Circle, the Mansfield-Wellsboro Circle, the Lock Haven-Jersey Shore Circle, the Bald Eagle State Park Circle, and the Lewisburg Circle.

Begun at the urging of pioneer ornithologist Frank Chapman, the first “Bird Census” was held on Christmas Day in 1900. Then, 27 dedicated birders counted about 90 different species of birds at 25 different locations across the country. Today the Christmas Bird Count is held worldwide. Last year, across 21 territories and countries in 2,693 count circles, more than 80,000 volunteers tallied 2,503 species and more than 44 million birds!

The other day someone asked me, “How do you count birds?” Well, with binoculars in hand and ears attuned our group began our count in Eldred Township, just west of the Slabtown Bridge over Loyalsock Creek. Our group’s assigned area within the Williamsport Circle also includes the hills and valleys of Upper Fairfield Township on the east side of the ‘Sock. A thoughtful member of our group provided coffee and donuts to share before we broke into teams to bird. One of the first birds spotted that morning, by the youngest and newest birder in our group, was a Bald Eagle taking flight from an open field into a nearby tree. Shortly after that we caught sight of a Cooper’s Hawk headed into the woods from an unidentified perch.

A quiet interlude followed our initial excitement at seeing two raptors, but it wasn’t that long until we ran into a mixed flock of songbirds. Dark-eyed Juncos were plentiful, and White-throated Sparrows were hopping around in the brush. There was the eponymous call of a Black-capped Chickadee, the repetitive whistle of a Tufted Titmouse, and the nasal “yank” of a White-breasted Nuthatch. Someone spotted a Downy Woodpecker and several Northern Flickers were seen and heard. Just above us a Red-bellied Woodpecker was working a tree limb. With the melodic song of a Carolina Wren and the distant, but familiar chatter of a Kingfisher, our eBird checklist grew to more than 20 species and well over 100 individual birds.

Our colleagues birding a different area were having great success as well. They saw or heard a Hairy Woodpecker, Pileated Woodpecker, and Yellow-bellied Sapsucker. Of the seven woodpecker species found in our area, we only missed the Red-headed Woodpecker. Another disappointing miss was the Brown Creeper, but we were glad to see and hear a couple of Northern Mockingbirds before the day’s end.

After two hours birding we regrouped to finish off the donuts before splitting up to do some feeder watching at the home of a long-time Lycoming Audubon volunteer, and to bird other “hotspots” in our assigned area. Some road birding followed. Though usually not as enjoyable or productive as a good walk, a few members of our group spotted a rafter of turkeys. After lunch at Grimm’s Diner in Warrensville a couple of us continued birding and some new species were added to our list. All told, our group counted 40 different species and 1,301 individual birds. In short, that’s how you count birds!

The Christmas Bird Count is just one of the ways to enjoy birds during the winter months. You can discover other opportunities to learn about birds and their habitats by contacting your local Audubon Chapter to learn about their programs and activities. Happy birding!

Bruce Buckle is a retired educator and President of the Lycoming Audubon Society.

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For long-time members, this President’s Desk essay will feel a little different. It is the first one being sent to members by email and it will also appear in the Pennsylvania Birds journal. The board is excited about the potential of this new format to provide more timely information on PSO’s programs and encourage participation in birding and bird conservation. We are indebted to our newsletter editor, Kaitlyn Stouch, for her hard work and design skills. 

So, first, a few logistics. For members with an email address on file, The Pileated will now be sent to you every other week via email. For members with no email address on file, you will see printed highlights from the newsletter starting with the next issue of Pennsylvania Birds, such as field trip reports, community science updates, the President’s Desk essay, and program announcements. All members who elect printed materials will continue to receive a print version of the journal. 

As we have worked behind the scenes to make this transition, it has been a useful and informative exercise to look at the evolution of The Pileated and how it has reflected broader changes in birding and communication. It is interesting to note that PSO’s newsletter wasn’t always called The Pileated. The familiar logo of the state outline with a Pileated Woodpecker first appeared in July of 1992. It was not until December of 2023 in Volume 14, No. 4, that the name appears on the headline. Before then, it was generally just labeled as the PSO Newsletter.

The first issue of our newsletter, from April 1990, is instructive and provides an interesting point of comparison to what PSO has become 35 years later. You can view the first issue – and all prior issues – at https://pabirds.org/back-issues-of-the-pso-pileated/. 

Volume 1, Number 1 of the PSO newsletter announced the formation of the organization and invited readers to return a membership form. Conrad Schmidt, President, noted that PSO was the “first state-wide organization for amateur and professional ‘bird-people’ of Pennsylvania” and that PSO intended to be an active group that develops its own projects, supports projects led by others, sponsors field trips, and holds an annual meeting. 

The initial newsletter makes clear that PSO, fresh off of the conclusion of data collection for the first Breeding Bird Atlas, was off to a quick start. 

There was a report on the first-ever PSO field trip, held March 17, 1990, at Middle Creek Wildlife Management Area in Lancaster and Lebanon Counties. A group of 14 birders found three roosting Long-eared Owls near the visitor center and a variety of dabbling ducks. The report casually mentions seeing several pheasants, which would be noteworthy today. An announcement noted upcoming planned field trips, visiting Presque Isle State Park in May and the Tinicum National Environmental Center (now known as the John Heinz National Wildlife Refuge at Tinicum) in August. The leaders for these trips were Jerry McWilliams and Johnny Miller, respectively. 

PSO’s founders certainly had good taste in birding locations, as their first three field trip destinations are currently among the top four hotspots in the state for total species in eBird. Trips to well-known birding sites are still a part of PSO’s repertoire, especially during our Birding Festivals, but we also try to encourage birding in lesser-known locations through our County Spotlight series. 

A brief summary of the 1989-1990 Christmas Bird Count is included. Lower Bucks and Southern Lancaster shared the top species count honors with 95 each; both sites are still routinely among the top counts in PA. A few maps detailed the counts of species of interest across every CBC circle. The northward march of Red-bellied Woodpecker is highlighted with high numbers in the southeast and southwest, along with reports at nearly all circles in the state. The current birder may have their mind boggled by the number of Evening Grosbeaks present during a “small invasion of northern finches.” Nearly half of all circles had double digit Evening Grosbeaks, with two sites hitting three digits. 

Updates on the Breeding Bird Atlas and several Pennsylvania Game Commission bird survey programs, such as colonial nesting birds and grassland birds, are included and assistance is sought to support these efforts. This is still a key role of PSO. As demonstrated through the current Third Pennsylvania Bird Atlas, PSO is a conduit for communicating to the state’s birders about opportunities to support bird science.

The upcoming year will show that much has remained the same since that 1990 launch, but with a few modern twists and expansions. 

We will highlight opportunities for summer birding and supporting the Bird Atlas at our Birding Festival, which evolved from the annual meeting mentioned in the first newsletter. From June 19-21 we will gather in Altoona, Blair County, for field trips, talks, socializing, and, yes, the annual business meeting. 

PSO will host three County Spotlight field trip weekends: March 13-16 in Huntingdon County, April 24-27 in Fayette County, and October 16-19 in Potter County. These events include some traditional bird walk outings and use eBird and Discord to connect birders and track observations.

And we will lead the sixth annual Breeding Bird Blitz for Conservation from June 6-16. The Blitz is an example of PSO developing its own program, a unique event that encourages birding and supports bird conservation, having distributed more than $92,000 in grants to support local projects across the state. 

Of course, most of the communications about these events will come digitally, including on our website, www.pabirds.org. Much as Conrad Schmidt asked in that April, 1990, newsletter, I hope you will engage with PSO. In addition to joining our scheduled events, please let me know any time if you have program ideas or would like to volunteer. PSO has grown in many ways over the past 35 years, but we are still driven by volunteers and a desire to support and connect birders across the state. 

-Brian Byrnes

President

By Wayne Laubscher

For the past few months, and continuing through the winter, several species of finches are seeing a very good flight year (irruption). This is due to a poor seed crop in the boreal forest in central and eastern Canada, which forces some finches to seek more food to the south. Boreal forests, also known as “taiga,” are the northernmost forests in the world. At the same time, a widespread spruce budworm outbreak in the same area is also a factor. These insect larvae provide an excellent source of food for finches and other bird species during the nesting season, leading to higher numbers of surviving nestlings and thus more pressure to find food.

Purple Finches have been moving south since August in good numbers. Males are a raspberry red and females are strongly brown-streaked with a heavy face pattern. They prefer black oil sunflower seeds at feeders as well as various deciduous seeds. This species nests in Pennsylvania. They can be confused with the more common House Finch; however, House Finches are brick red in the front with brown streaking and females are lightly brown streaked.

A good flight of Pine Siskins is occurring as far south as the mid-Atlantic states, including Pennsylvania. They are brown, usually with heavy streaking and some yellow in the tail and wings. These rather tame birds prefer nyger (thistle) seeds in tube or sock feeders. They also feed on spruce, tamarack, and hemlock. Pine Siskins will nest in Pennsylvania during irruptions.

There is currently a moderate flight of Evening Grosbeaks happening. Birds are being reported in New York, New England, and Pennsylvania. This is that big and colorful finch that many people look forward to seeing. Adult males are yellow and black with a yellow eyebrow and a large white patch on the wing. Females and juvenile birds are mostly gray with black and white wings and a yellowish green tinge on the neck and sides. They are a large finch about 8 inches long. Evening Grosbeaks eat large amounts of black sunflower seeds and prefer platform feeders.

Redpolls seem to be showing a strong flight out of the eastern boreal forest south into New England and New York and could make it into Pennsylvania according to Matt Young of the Finch Research Network. Redpolls are small arctic finches. Both sexes have red caps and black chins. Males also have a pink wash on the breast. At feeders, they consume black oil sunflower and nyger seeds. They also feed in weedy fields and on birch and alder trees.

Matt Young also hinted at another possible species, Pine Grosbeak, which is rare in Pennsylvania, that might show up here. There are currently reports in New York. Males are bright rosy red with black and white wing bars. Females are gray with a yellowish tinged head, breast, and rump, and white wing bars. They about 9 inches long. Pine Grosbeaks will come to feeders with black sunflower seeds.

Two additional non-finch species are included in this annual finch forecast. One is the very familiar Blue Jay. An above-average flight of jays south is likely. The other is Red-breasted Nuthatch. They have been irrupting south into our area since August. They have bluish gray backs, a black cap, white face with a black stripe through the eye, and an orange-tinged belly. Their call has been described as like a little tin horn. They are found in conifers and also will come to suet feeders.

So, keep your feeders filled, be sure to clean them periodically, and enjoy the bird show.

Thanks and acknowledgments to forecaster Tyler Hoar, Matt Young, and the Finch Research Network. Go to: finchnetwork.org for more information.

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By Sabrina Kirby

“I’m…going-to-peck-you!”
“You can’t catch me!”
“Ha! Here I am!”
“Haha, you missed me! I’M going to peck YOU!”

My friend and I had just stepped out of May’s Drive-In late one October morning when she pointed to a large black bird on the telephone pole across the highway, near the east end of the Lewisburg river bridge. Looking closer, we saw there were actually two crow-sized black birds, both with prominent red crests and white neck stripes. Clinging and climbing with their talons, they chased each other up, down and around the pole, frequently reaching over to jab with their bills. Without binoculars, we couldn’t see whether either bird had the male Pileated Woodpecker’s narrow red cheek stripe. I knew Pileated couples behave this way during courtship, but it wasn’t nesting time. What was going on here? I wanted answers!

My Stokes Guide to Bird Behavior explained that Pileated Woodpeckers’ territorial displays, in which birds may “hitch around tree trunks,” wave their bills, and peck at each other, happen year-round, whereas courtship behaviors, which can look the same, occur from mid-March to mid-May. Pileated Woodpecker pairs mate for life, maintaining the same territory year-round. Both sexes will defend their territory from other Pileateds. These details suggested that my friend and I were watching a territorial dispute.

But that morning, the “game” went on so long that both birds seemed to be staying in it willingly. They were still at it when my friend grew tired of watching and we went on our way. I kept wondering, though: Could these birds be siblings who hadn’t yet gone off to find their own mate and territory, having a pretend fight? Or empty-nest mates, enjoying a bit of flirting? Was this some kind of play?
Ornithologists have found examples of play in 13 of the 27 orders of birds. I’ve seen just a few: American Crows on windy days, for example, sailing up high only to drop, “surfing” the wind, then winging back up to plunge again. Or the young Common Mergansers I watched at the fish ladder by the Fabridam near Sunbury this summer, lining up to ride a narrow chute of fast water formed by rocks at the edge of a little island, crowding back to the top after each ride to shoot the rapids (“ducks in a row!”) again.

Scientists studying play in non-human animals need precise definitions, like this one from the Cornell Lab of Ornithology: “activities that enhance learning of motor and sensory skills and social behaviors but otherwise serve no immediate purpose.” Personally, I suspect that a bird (or other animal) is playing when no other explanation seems to fit, AND they appear to enjoy it. It’s easy to find videos of animals at play: elephants sliding down mudbanks or taking hats from people and placing them on their own heads, for example. Or just watch kittens or puppies for a while, or calves, or foals. Sure, those baby animals are practicing the behaviors of their kind—chasing, hunting, running, kicking—but doesn’t it look like fun?

I recently learned a term from psychology, borrowed from German: funktionslust, defined as the pleasure a human or (“other animal,” in some definitions) takes in doing something they are “meant to do,” or something they do well. A runner’s pleasure in running is one example. We’ve all felt it. What must it feel like to use the skills of a hummingbird, owl, or eagle?

When I asked some knowledgeable friends about the Pileated Woodpeckers in October, they shared several examples of courtship-related behavior reappearing in the fall, when the day length is the same as when courtship begins in spring: Spring peepers peeping and Song Sparrows singing, for instance. There’s a name for this behavior: the “fall echo.” One friend quoted from a 1920 article by Charles W. Townsend in The Auk, an ornithological journal: “The autumnal recrudescence of the amatory instinct, often displayed in song, is well known.” In Townsend’s day, it was customary to write about non-human animals as creatures motivated solely by instinct, not conscious choice. We’ve learned some things about animal minds since then.

Still, we will never know what it’s like to be a bird, and it’s all too easy to assume that their experiences and motivations are like ours, and vice-versa. But for now, I’m going with my gut, and leaving open the possibility that what my friend and I saw last year was a pair of Pileated Woodpeckers doing what Pileated Woodpecker pairs do on autumn days like that one, because they can, and because they enjoy it.

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By Julie Cramer-Le

I want to sing the praises of an intense kind of birding experience: having a patch. Your “patch,” in birding parlance, is a spot you visit regularly, not because you think you’re going to see anything particularly noteworthy, but because you’ve chosen it as a place you want to get familiar with. By visiting your patch often, you’re able to observe what birds are residents and which are just passing through. You get to familiarize yourself with the birds you see over and over. That makes it a lot more obvious if something new shows up!

This year, I decided to start birding a patch of my own. My patch is a local park that I visit every Saturday afternoon after my volunteer shift at the animal shelter. The park consists of two man-made lakes that abut a marsh area. There are native trees, such as cedars, sweetgum, pines, maples, and oaks; invasive plants such as autumn olive and wisteria, phragmites around the marsh; and flowers like rose mallow and swamp milkweed. The lakes are stocked, so there are a lot of people fishing for fun, and I pick up abandoned fishing line. There are also tons of introduced red-eared and yellow-bellied slider turtles, probably the descendants of pets that were abandoned at the lakes years ago!

By visiting my patch, I get to observe the change of seasons in one spot week by week. In winter, the lakes attract migrating ducks like hooded mergansers, ruddy ducks, bufflehead, and gadwall. As the weather warmed up, one hooded merganser, a young male, stayed late into June, long past the point he should have moved on! Because he was the only hoodie still around, I knew I was seeing the same bird over and over, and I got really fond of him.

In spring, American robins came back in full force, along with migrating warblers; I got so used to the zeet-zeet-zeet sound of blackpoll warblers that I started to recognize it without having to look up. I also got very familiar with the loud and persistent song of warbling vireos, which love to hang around near water and nest by the lake. Baltimore and orchard orioles moved in and I found multiple nests for each species.

Along with the orioles, some of the other nests and baby/teenage birds I found during nesting season included grackles, swallows, eastern kingbirds, sparrows, warblers, kildeer, red-winged blackbirds, wrens, and oh-so-many robins! There were also Canada goose goslings and mallard ducklings. It was such a treat to find so many of these birds, and it really was down to the repeat visits and getting used to where to look.

Another treat was during May when an American bittern stopped by the marsh. This species is sneaky and silent and spends most of its time pretending to be a reed (in between hunting for food). Bitterns are commonly around, but considered rare because they’re so hard to spot. Really exciting!

The summer was excruciatingly hot, and the birds felt it too. In the afternoons, they were mostly hiding, but I still saw swallows and swifts flying over the lakes, along with tons of dragonflies. Herons toughed out the heat, and I had a close encounter with a juvenile green heron that didn’t hear me coming — I was only a few feet away, and I watched it fishing and even got a picture!
It’s the first week in September as I write this, and last Saturday I saw my first early migrant: I was counting mallards for my checklist when I realized one of them was very small.

Looking harder, I realized it wasn’t a mallard at all — it was my first green-winged teal of the season. I definitely wasn’t expecting to see one so soon!

In the coming months, the catbirds will all leave for their winter hangouts. Many of the red-winged blackbirds will too. The kingbirds, which I got to watch catching bugs over the lakes in the summer and bringing back snacks for their hungry kids, have already left.

But more migratory ducks will start coming in to replace them. My late-staying hooded merganser from the spring might be back, too, all grown up and unrecognizable in his adult plumage — the gorgeous black and white mohawk that gives these ducks their name. The winter songbirds like dark-eyed juncos and ruby- and golden-crowned kinglets will be arriving soon, and I can’t wait!
That’s the joy of having a patch. When you show up over and over, you never know what you might see.

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By David Bauman

Watch your step, but don’t forget to look up. I frequently point out, to both patrons and employees, the chimney swifts who chitter and circle overhead all summer long, not to mention frequent Bald Eagles, Turkey Vultures, and even, now and then, an Osprey, all visible through the giant library windows where I work.

But I should warn you that if you do look up, you could get hooked on what you see. That’s what happened to me, and in my case, it was birds of prey, starting with a lone Red-tailed Hawk.

The summer after my senior year, I went backpacking with a friend on the Black Forest Trail near Slate Run. We were lazy, so we just set up a base camp not far from the stream and made day hikes from there.

My best memory from that week was of a beautiful Red-tailed Hawk passing over the part of the stream we called our “watering hole.” The only reason I knew what to call it was because I’d heard the name somewhere, and this hawk had an unmistakably brick-red tail. The bird continued to soar in lazy circles overhead for several minutes and I was entranced.

I would soon learn, at my local library, by the way, that not all Red-tailed Hawks have red tails, and here in the East, juveniles have thinly barred brown tails. I would also learn there were eight different species of hawks who regularly made their homes right here in Pennsylvania. That’s not to mention three species of falcons, two of eagles, and the Osprey in a class by itself.

Ironically, I was in the flat lands of Indiana, at school and feeling homesick when someone told me about a place called Hawk Mountain near Kempton, PA. What I found at the university library was a book that changed my life, forty years after it was published. Hawks Aloft: The Story of Hawk Mountain by Maurice Braun, first printed in 1948, fifteen years after he and his wife Irma arrived as the first curator and gate keeper, respectively, of the Hawk Mountain Sanctuary.

This was new to me, the idea that there were migration hot spots. I learned that north-facing lookouts, particularly along ridgetops, had the potential to be good spots for observing migrating birds of prey. Generally, sites that have a view up the ridge and into both the northwest and southeast valleys could serve as corridors for birds moving from their northern breeding spots to their winter homes in the south.

Broad-winged Hawk flying by the lookout © David Brown; Cornell Lab of Ornithology | Macaulay Library

Picture a raised relief map of Pennsylvania on the wall in front of you. More or less from the center to the southeast is the ridge and valley region. Now imagine you’re a hawk flying south after a cold front. The updrafts off those ridges, along with rising columns of warm air called thermals, can provide you an easier flight south. More gliding and soaring, less energy expended.

When I moved back East, I headed to spots like Hawk Mountain and Waggoner’s Gap, positioned myself near hawk counters on fall weekends, where I’d listen, observe and ask questions. I even took my nervous knees up the steps of a fire tower near State College before meeting Greg Grove on Stone Mountain. There we watched from lawn chairs behind our cars at the bend in the road. That was before the viewing deck was built on the top of the ridge.

Greg took me under his wing and suggested good but affordable optics. When he’d quiz me on a bird that flew over, if I said Sharp-shinned Hawk, he’d say, “Okay, now tell me why.” I owe so much to people like Greg, and it was a joy to introduce him to my sons when we visited the hawk watch recently.

If you want to treat yourself to some hawk watching, September is an excellent time to start when Broad-winged Hawks tend to travel in groups! You could hike out onto Bake Oven Knob or park at Jack’s Mountain below the altar. Even the purely north-facing view at the Route 15 lookout above Montoursville can be surprisingly good when there are northerly winds.

Broad-winged Hawk kettle © David Brown; Cornell Lab of Ornithology | Macaulay Library

Broad-winged Hawk kettle © David Brown; Cornell Lab of Ornithology | Macaulay Library

Go to HawkCount.org and click on the map to find the closest hawk watch and see for yourself. And if it’s a slow bird day, just enjoy the view. It’s like what they say about fishing; a bad day of hawk watching is better than a good day at work.

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By Linda Stager

There’s a moment every spring in Pennsylvania when the skies near rivers and reservoirs fill with a certain kind of excitement. A large bird with a white belly, dark eye stripe, and outstretched wings hovers high above the water, then dives with fierce precision—talons-first—into the surface. A second later, it bursts back into the air with a wriggling fish clutched tightly in its grip. The bird is an Osprey, and for many Pennsylvanians, its return is a symbol of resilience and renewal.

Also known as the fish hawk, the Osprey (Pandion haliaetus) is one of the most specialized raptors in North America. Nearly 99% of its diet consists of fish, which it catches using its unique, reversible outer toes and spiny footpads. These adaptations help the osprey grasp slippery prey with surprising strength and agility. Watching one in action is like witnessing the wild at its most elegant and efficient.

Ospreys are migratory birds, spending their winters in Central and South America before returning north to breed. In Tioga County, where I live, they typically arrive right around St. Patrick’s Day, and for me, it’s a yearly tradition to welcome “home” the birds I track through the season. Historically, Osprey nested along the Susquehanna River, the Delaware, and in scattered pockets of the Alleghenies and the Poconos. But by the 1970s, ospreys had almost vanished from the state.

The culprit was DDT, a pesticide that entered waterways and accumulated in fish, the exclusive food source that ospreys depended on. The chemical weakened eggshells, causing them to crack before hatching. By 1986, Pennsylvania had only two known Osprey nests.

That’s when conservationists stepped in.

The Pennsylvania Game Commission, along with citizen scientists and volunteers, launched a reintroduction program. Using a method called “hacking,” 265 young Ospreys from healthier populations were raised in artificial nesting platforms without direct human contact, then released into the wild once they were strong enough to fly. Dozens of platforms were installed near reservoirs, wetlands, and rivers to encourage the birds to return and nest.

It worked.

Ospreys can now be found across Pennsylvania. Some of the most active nesting areas include the Tioga-Hammond Lakes in my home county, Tioga County, the Lower Susquehanna River near Harrisburg, and the Pymatuning Reservoir in western Pennsylvania. These birds have become a favorite sighting for both birdwatchers and anglers.

Ospreys are easy to spot once you know what to look for. Their wingspan can stretch up to six feet, and in flight, they form a distinctive “M” shape. Their calls are high-pitched and whistling—sharp cheep-cheep-cheep cries that echo across the water. They often circle above the treetops or perch on dead snags and man-made platforms, scanning the surface for movement.

Their nests are built high and wide, often made from sticks, driftwood, and anything else they can find. Each year, a mated pair adds to the nest, sometimes making it several feet deep. Once the eggs are laid, both parents take turns incubating and protecting the nest, fiercely guarding their territory from crows, raccoons, and even eagles.

One of the best things about Ospreys is their role as ecological storytellers. Because they rely so heavily on fish, they reflect the health of aquatic systems. When Ospreys are thriving, it usually means the rivers are clean, the fish are abundant, and the ecosystem is in balance. Their presence along Pennsylvania’s waterways tells a hopeful tale of recovery—not just for a species, but for a place.

Still, the story isn’t finished.

Threats remain. Fishing line entanglement is a growing concern, and habitat loss from shoreline development can limit nesting space. Climate change, too, may alter migratory patterns or food availability in the years ahead. That’s why ongoing monitoring and education remain vital.

You can help, too.

If you are a birder, volunteer for the Breeding Bird Atlas, the current survey of bird observations in Pennsylvania. It’s a five-year project, running from 2024 to 2029.

If you fish or boat in osprey territory, make sure to collect and properly dispose of fishing line and gear. Consider supporting local conservation efforts that protect wetlands and watersheds. And if you’re lucky enough to live near a nest, give the birds plenty of space during breeding season. These simple actions ensure that future generations will also marvel at the Osprey’s powerful flight and graceful dives

The Osprey story is one of survival, science, community action, and wild beauty, forever circling back home.

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By Dan Brauning

A catbird was skulking around the forsythia in my backyard this morning, but she was stealthy enough to keep their nest a secret. The bird box was full of sticks with a tidy nest of a house wren, complete with five eggs. Two young robins just left their nest to face the world! These, and many more, are birds of my summer backyard.

I’m reflecting on the joy of birding in my backyard. It is typical of the suburbs in our region: a little grass, some shrubs, two tall trees. And there are birds here, nesting, passing through, just living. The same is true of your backyard. A variety of birds have adapted to our environment, making their homes close to ours. And if you have gotten this far in this edition of Bird Lore, then you know that your backyard is a great place to start to learn more about the birds of our region. Whatever your setting, you can build your knowledge of birds and care for your environment right in your backyard.

Let’s start with robins. This orange-breasted denizen of suburban yards everywhere is one of the most common birds around, because it is perfectly suited to the landscape that we have designed. Robins like what we have built: some grass, a couple of bushes in the corner, and maybe a small tree. No one consulted the robin when this prevailing landscape was taking shape, but “if you build it, they will come” holds again, and the robin came to our backyard and owned it.

We can learn much about the local life of birds by watching robins. They build nests in a dense shrub, sit on their eggs for a couple of weeks, feed dependent young as you walk by, or as the local cats prowl about. Then, they care for the resulting speckle-chested young for a few weeks and do it again, 2 or 3 times during the summer. If you spend a little time looking, you will find other birds close to home, living out a similar routine. The plaintive Mourning Dove is a year-round resident, and about as adaptable as a robin. The handsome Song Sparrow is probably nearby, but being small and, well, a sparrow, you might not give it a second look. While the list of native birds that survive as our close neighbors is not long, these neighbors provide a great introduction to the broader world of birds. The House (or English) Sparrow and European Starling, though not originally native to North America, are now dominant features of our towns and cities. So native or introduced, a variety of birds are living out their lives around us, and as such, provide opportunities for us to understand the natural world a bit more.

The variety of birds in your backyard depends on what they find there. Adding a few native shrubs and reducing the chemical treatment of your lawn will provide a bigger variety of birds. And outdoor cats are hard on local birds. Big lawns may have lots of robins, but not much else. Native shrubs and flowers add to the variety of foods and cover that benefits a greater variety of life. A slightly overgrown shrub can introduce a catbird to the mix, or the lovely Brown Thrasher. A steady array of flowers may attract a hummingbird. With enough low bushes, you may have a Common Yellowthroat, a small warbler. The list grows from there.

Large trees line many streets in town, providing welcome shade during the heat of summer (and we’re sure thankful for them this year). Those tall trees host a variety of insects that support birds typical of woodlands and forests. Some of those forest birds wander into tree-lined streets. One of Pennsylvania’s most common birds may be unfamiliar to you: the Red-eyed Vireo. It spends the summer almost anywhere there are a few tall trees, raising its family before heading south to winter in the Amazonian rain forest. Yes! A globe-trotter could spend the summer in your backyard.

As you become more familiar with the birds in your backyard, you will also notice the changes that come with the seasons. But with cold winter winds come seed-eating birds from the north. We may not be looking forward to winter, but with it will come Dark-eyed Juncos and White-throated Sparrows. Here again, it makes sense to provide the plants that will provide food for winter birds, and to supplement that with a bird feeder.

This is a glimpse into the real lives of dozens of local birds, including many that you can host in your backyard. You can find guidance on making subtle changes to your backyard that will improve your bird experience at online resources such as Audubon.org. Making small changes will benefit your local birds and enhance your opportunities to enjoy them! So, peek out the window. What’s living out there?

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