In August Watch for the Red-breasted Nuthatch

We drove up into the eastern hills, far from the river valley. Here, many years ago, the state had bought an entire region, with towns and roads and farms. Two huge dams had been thrown across the Swift River and a reservoir was born. Now the old roads through the region are closed and gated. Forests have reclaimed the surrounding land and created something close to a wilderness, the Quabbin Reservation.

The gates keep out motorized vehicles, but hikers are welcome, and, on certain old roads, bicycles too. Before we even unloaded our bikes for a ride, there were birds in the trees overhead. The Quabbin is full of planted pines so the most prominent birds are those that favor these evergreens.

Though it was fall, the pine warblers were singing. Their song was a steady trill of notes, lazy and musical, unlike the harder, faster notes of the chipping sparrow. They came into view, the most typical of the warblers, a dull yellow with a greenish back and white bars on the wings. These pine warblers nested here and had not yet begun their migration. They are one of a handful of hardy warbler species that remain on their nesting grounds until late fall, then migrate only to the southeastern US.

We had to crane our heads to see them above us. With them were magnolia, parula, and black-throated green warblers. These birds were silent, for they had little energy to spare, having just arrived here from their own wilderness breeding areas in eastern Canada. They had flown all night and were stocking up for the next night's journey on the way to the tropics.

Also present all summer was a species that we heard throughout the entire morning, the red-breasted nuthatch. Most of us are familiar with the white breasted nuthatch that comes to almost every feeding station. Sometimes a "baby" nuthatch will appear, much smaller, with a breast washed red. Some of you have written to ask me about this bird, wondering if it is common here in New England.

It is fairly common here, but because it likes those evergreens so much, it is mostly restricted to the hilly areas where these trees are found. It is an abundant bird in the forests to our north where spruce and fir predominate. It shares the unique upside down feeding behavior of its larger cousin, but is more prone to poke its bill into the twigs and leaves at the ends of branches.

It also has that distinctive voice, a nasal yank, yank, yank, repeated often and loudly. It is higher pitched and faster than the call of the white-breasted nuthatch, but identifiable from a long distance. Everywhere we stopped our bikes, at least one or two called somewhere nearby. They travel in small flocks and are fond of conversing as they work their way through the trees.

They also are easily attracted to a pishing noise, and will come close to see why these odd human creatures are raising an alarm. Then their own calls will be almost frantic, interspersed with chips and chatters as they confront the giant invader of their domain.

During the morning we heard or saw many of these little birds, too many for even such a favored habitat as this. Perhaps this indicates an invasion of these birds for the coming winter. The last such invasion occurred in the winter of 1993-94, when ten times the normal numbers were found on counts.

Unlike its cousin, the red-breasted nuthatch is migratory. If there is a poor cone crop in the vast northern forests, then these birds take the cue early in August and start to move farther south. There they join our local populations, and, if our trees have produced a crop, they stay for the winter. If not, then many of our birds will join the trek as it continues farther south along the Appalachian hills.

If it is an invasion year, you are much more likely to discover this spry little visitor at your feeder. They like suet as well as sunflower seed, but seem shyer, and quicker to startle and flee. They have the same blue back, but a black mustache sets off a prominent white strip through the eye, and their breast is washed with varying shades of red. Watch for them.