I was dressed, in the car, and following Susan as we both rode to work. We were approaching a supermarket, and I was thinking random thoughts about supplies that we needed. For some reason I felt that I had to ask her if we needed dish detergent. Why I would think of this at 6:00 a.m.? I have no idea.
Anyway, I glanced at my phone and saw that I had a message. I pushed the phone button on my steering wheel, made the call to voicemail, and was utterly flabbergasted to learn that school had been called off. Another Tuesday-Wednesday ice storm was on the way, and canceling school was thought to be prudent.
So, I called Susan, updated her of the no school situation, blinked “love you” with my headlights and turned around.
By the time I pulled into my garage, it was still dark. I went inside, made some fresh coffee, lit my oil lamp and waited for the birds to show up for breakfast. This is a routine that I’ve performed hundreds of times, but I am always excited about the prospect of the unknown.
What would arrive this morning?
The regulars started rolling in around 7 a.m., and I was content to identify and count individuals of each species. Nothing unusual happened. An hour passed, and I had a pretty good list for the morning.
By 8:30 a.m., I was starting to think about working on a column. Might as well put the free morning at home to good use, right? That’s when it struck me that there was something not quite right about the white-throated sparrow that had just appeared on my deck. Definitely odd.
Up came the binoculars, and I instantly understood my confusion. This was not a white-throated sparrow at all. For the second time in the past three winters, I found myself admiring a swamp sparrow (Melospiza georgiana) through lenses of my field glasses. This was something truly unusual.
I checked my records and discovered that the first time I ever noticed a swamp sparrow at my feeders was Feb. 2, 2015. The bird lingered for about a month and a half before it disappeared. I’m guessing the sparrow moved off to find a habitat that would more closely resemble the typical breeding conditions that swamp sparrows prefer. You’re thinking about swamps, aren’t you? Well, it may interest you to know that swamps aren’t really where swamp sparrows like to nest.
Technically speaking, a swamp is “a piece of wet, spongy land that is permanently or periodically covered with water, characterized by growths of shrubs and trees.” The habitat that swamp sparrows actually prefer more closely resembles something we would call a “marsh;” an area of “low, soft land that is permanently or temporarily covered with water, characterized by aquatic, grass-like vegetation.” Every time I have seen a male swamp sparrow singing in the spring, it has been from an area that is a blending of these two habitats — with more marsh than swamp. They seem to like trees nearby, but they also want those emergent plants, like cattails.
I went a full year without seeing another swamp sparrow in my yard, but this summer I happened to catch sight of one while in the middle of one of my epic August birding days. It was definitely a juvenile bird, but there was no mistaking it. It was a swamp sparrow!
As I sat at my kitchen window last week, definitely excited about the appearance of this bird, I decided that some pictures were in order. I retrieved my camera, switched lenses, and prepared myself for the frustration of failure. It is not at all uncommon to get cameras in position, and to get settings figured out, only to have the bird fly off and not return. The only thing you can do is try.
I fired a few preliminary frames and discovered they were very badly underexposed. Predictable, really.
I made an adjustment, refocused and took another shot. Better, but still not quite right. One more adjustment and another shot produced a photo that was as good as it was going to get. It was a very gloomy morning, the light was low, and I had to use a much longer shutter speed that I wanted to, but at least some of the frames worked out.
The two frames I share with you today were the best. The first shows the bird in profile and lets you see the rich rust-oranges and honey-browns that decorate its plumage. You also get a good look at the large areas of battleship gray on the face.
The second photo shows a light patch on the throat — rather white-throated sparrowish — and a dark spot in the center of the breast — quite American tree sparrowish.
It also shows something that I’ve never noticed before — the dark stripes on the head are actually composed of black and brown pinstripes. A breeding adult would have a rust-orange cap, but this is a younger bird with a different plumage. By its toes, you can see the first pellets of sleet that started falling.
If the pattern of this winter holds true, I’ll have another day off next week because of another ice storm. Who knows what will show up then? Will I see puffins or penguins on my railings? Stay tuned and I’ll be sure to keep you updated.
Bill Danielson has worked for the National Park Service, the US Forest Service, and the Massachusetts State Parks. He has been a professional writer and nature photographer for 19 years and currently teaches high school biology and physics. For more information visit www.speakingofnature.com, or go to Speaking of Nature on Facebook.