HollerPhenology

A Tennessee warbler visits the holler

On May 11th this year, Merlin identified one of the birds singing near my house as a Tennessee warbler. I tried to locate it but, as often happens by that time of the year in the holler's woods, I couldn't see the bird for the leaves. Even though it's named for the state I live in, these warblers don't spend much time in Tennessee, so I felt fortunate to at least have caught one's song, my first ever.

Yesterday, I watched a couple of American goldfinches hunting for bugs on a giant ragweed plant not too far from my birding window. When they flew off, another bird landed on the plant. At first I thought it was another goldfinch but the size, color and feather patterns didn't quite fit. With field glasses I clearly saw a thin, pointy bill and obvious lack of white on this bird's wings. I quickly traded the binoculars for a camera and managed to get several photos as the bird moved up and down the plant, gleaning the stems and flowers.

Tennessee warbler (Leiothlypis peregrina), September 1, 2022  [Photo: Cathie Bird]

Since I couldn't immediately identify the species, the photos gave me a chance to gather more field marks and narrow the choices. Before long, I'd settled on Tennessee warbler as the closest match, and then used Birds of the World, Merlin and other online resources to sort through similar species with all of their seasonal variations. I concluded that it was, indeed, my first visual experience of a Tennessee warbler in action.

Tennessee warbler (Leiothlypis peregrina) gleaning giant ragweed (Ambrosia trifida), September 1, 2022  [Photo: Cathie Bird]

Once I had an identification, and just for the heck of it, I decided to check out the BirdCast site to see who'd been flying over the holler that past evening. The estimate for Campbell County, Tennessee was 1,240,400. Though Tennessee warblers did not show up in the species list, it gave me goosebumps to think about that many winged beings flying by while I was sleeping.

Seasonal shifts inside and out

Screen shot of a Status of Spring page map at USA National Phenology Network

A few days ago I saw four turkey hens feeding together in the field where at least one of them will probably raise some chicks in a few months. Overhead the same day, I heard calls of two red-shouldered hawks, followed immediately by loud squawks of a whistle-blowing blue jay. Yesterday, the first iridescent blue flash of the season signaled the arrival of an indigo bunting.

I read all of these as signs of a seasonal shift, though a sense of spring swirling inside me revealed itself well before these outer manifestations. Lately I've made all treks up and down the holler -- on foot or in the car -- with a more intentional gaze toward the places where toothwort, rue anemone, Carolina spring beauty and trout lily will soon evoke my surprise and delight.

I also messed around in my planter garden this week, poking in a few bulbs, cutting back dead stems, making mind-notes about stuff I need to do before sowing herbs or buying a few blossoming annuals for early insect and hummingbird visitors. This year I'm recycling parts of old flower pots to make a shelter for toads that hang around the planters.

Is all of this happening earlier than usual? And what's the weather outlook?

As I write this, it's 43 degrees outside. We've had rain and flash flood watches for the last 3 days. The predicted low for tonight is 21 degrees; predicted high for tomorrow is only 37, with an even colder low at 18 degrees. Saturday will be warmer. This pattern has circled around two or three times since 2020 began and probably will repeat itself over the next few weeks.

I'll be monitoring my planters and the rest of the holler to see how plants and birds are faring with this meteorological chaos.

See these articles/pages for more on the challenges of an early spring to trees and flowering plants:

Spring has arrived weeks early in the South (Washington Post 2/13/20)

Status of Spring page at USA National Phenology Network

 

Last Leaves in the Holler

Amur honeysuckle (Lonicera maackii) on November 28, 2019. [Photo: Cathie Bird]

The Amur honeysuckle was the last plant on my Nature's Notebook observation list to lose all of it leaves this fall. The last ones came down sometime before December 2nd.

 

White Heath Aster (Symphotricum ericoides) on November 16, 2019. [Photo: Cathie Bird]

The last of the wildflowers to go was the white heath aster. I think it's leaves would have stayed green longer had it not been for a few nights of frost after I took the photo above.

 

A germinating acorn (species unknown) on November 28, 2019. [Photo: Cathie Bird]

But even as this year's growth of trees, shrubs and wildflowers finished up their cycles, I found this acorn rooting itself in the middle of my driveway. The holler oaks had a "mast year" for acorns. They made the hills on my lane a bit hazardous -- kind of like trying to walk on an invisible layer of ball bearings under the fallen leaves. Many of these nuts have opened already as the weather has cycled between frosts and warm days on which I didn't even need a jacket for holler walks.

We had drought conditions in this part of Tennessee during the last half of the summer, which likely contributed to what I was seeing with many of the plants. The white wood asters (Eurybia divaricata), for example, did not have a very flowery season. I'm wondering if many days/weeks without rain at the time they would have been putting energy into flower-making had something to do with that.

The fall season on the other hand has included plenty of rain, and warm days flipping with short stretches of cold ones. We even had a storm with wind, lightning and thunder in the last weeks of November -- then a tiny bit of snow as December began. The high today will be 55-degrees...with a few showers.