Eastern Towhee Nest

Eastern Towhee is a bird that I see year round at Blue Jay Barrens.  A few of the birds overwinter here and are occasional guests at the birdfeeder. Their numbers climb significantly in the early spring with birds that spent the winter at a more southern location. Over the years, I’ve seen many young birds in the care of their parents, but have never found an active nest. Until now.

This is the first towhee nest that I have ever found.

I was walking across this field when I flushed a towhee from the grass while stepping down the cut bank shown in the center of the photograph.

Birds don’t usually flush from under my feet unless they’ve been disturbed from a nest. I stared at the bank and the surrounding area but could see no evidence of a nest.

It wasn’t until I got within a couple feet of the bank that I found the nest tucked beneath an overhanging cascade of dead grass.

The female towhee was frantically calling from a nearby cedar, so I only lingered long enough to capture a few images of the nest. I’ve read that Eastern Towhee nests are highly parasitized by Brown-headed Cowbirds. I hope this nest avoids that fate.

Bird Nests in the Field

I know that a lot of birds nest in the tall grass fields.  Even so, it’s rare to actually find one of the nests in the grass.  Where I always do find nests is in the small trees and shrubs growing hidden among the grass stems.  This Field Sparrow nest was nestled into the lower branches of one of the smaller Flowering Dogwoods.

Field Sparrows are quite common in the fields of prairie grasses and will generally raise two broods of young each year.  The early season nests are produced when the field vegetation is still short, so the nests are constructed on or close to the ground where there is plenty of cover.  By the time the birds construct their second nest, the grasses have grown up to engulf the small shrubs and trees.  Late season nests are regularly built in the lower branches of these grass hidden woody species.

When this Field Sparrow nest was in use, the surrounding grass was probably taller than the Deerberry bush in which the nest was built.  The combination of grass and leafy shrub would have made the nest impossible to see.

The woody shrub seems a wise location for a nest.  Summer storms can sometimes put the tall grass stalks through some wild gyrations that could easily damage a fragile nest.  The support offered by the shrub would protect the nest from such wild storm events.

Goldfinches are abundant here and regularly use the small trees in the field as nest sites.  Most nests are located between four and eight feet above the ground in the branches of Flowering Dogwoods.  This nest is typical of what I find each year after the leaves have fallen.

A couple of Goldfinch pairs used the young Persimmons as nesting sites.  These trees have since been cut, so they won’t be available next year.  However, there are still plenty of Dogwoods left for use as nest trees.

The nest has weathered a bit since the fledging of the young birds, but the thistle down lining is still easy to see.

This nest, secured in the upper branches of a young Persimmon, appeared to have collected leaves and twigs in the cup.  I bent the tree over to clear the debris and have a look at the nest construction.

Instead of leaves, I found what was left of the young birds.  Not all nestlings survive, but it’s unusual to find the bodies like this.  They may have succumbed to disease or parasites or weather or loss of the parent birds or something else entirely.  It’s sad to find things like this, but it might be worse in a different way if all young animals managed to reach adulthood.

Goldfinch Nest

I was wandering through the field, tracking down the last of the Teasel, when a female Goldfinch suddenly shot out of this small Flowering Dogwood.  I’m used to Goldfinches chattering away as they move around in small flocks from one feeding site to another.  A lone bird hiding in a tree must mean there’s something special about that tree.

I moved closer and could detect a brown mass concealed by the leaves.  A nest.  Small shrubs and trees in a generally open field are heavily utilized as nest sites by many bird species.  The nests are difficult to see while the leaves are on.  In early winter, when the leaves have all dropped, the nests are quite conspicuous.

Goldfinches typically lay between four and six eggs, so this nest could still receive another egg or two. 

The nests are commonly lined with pappus collected from thistle seed heads.  Pappus is the fluffy material attached to the thistle seed that allows the seed to be lifted by the wind and carried to distant locations.  The tall thistle species are just beginning to bloom at Blue Jay Barrens, so they are not yet a source of pappus.  I believe this nest lining came from the shorter and earlier blooming Pasture Thistle, Cirsium pumilum.

There’s not much chance of this nest being dislodged from the tree. The sides of the nest are strongly anchored to a half dozen stout branches.

Spider webs are used on the cup edge and the outside of the nest to help hold the material in place.

While admiring the Goldfinch nest, I noticed a similar brown mass in a nearby Redbud.

I believe this to be the nest of an Indigo Bunting.  I’ve seen active bunting nests and this matches what I’ve seen before.

I periodically remove the trees and shrubs growing in this field when they begin to overtop the prairie grass.  When they are small, the trees serve a valuable function as nesting structures.  Fortunately, there are always new volunteers coming along to take the place of those specimens I remove. 

Nesting Song Sparrows

It is natural for one of my garden fence posts to be topped by a Song Sparrow.  Through most of the spring and summer, a Song Sparrow uses this perch to sing his song of ownership over a prime nesting territory.  The bounds of that territory may match the garden fence, because the nests are mostly to be found somewhere in the garden.

This juniper seems to be the preferred location of the first nest of the season.  That’s probably because this shrub is the best source of cover early in the year.  Had it not been for the sparrows, I would have removed the juniper long ago.  I do trim it back severely each year so it doesn’t take up too much gardening space.

The pruning tends to make the branches more dense.  I can hear when a nest is active, but finding the nest without disturbing it is nearly impossible.

It’s after the fact that I discover the nest locations.  This shot is from the same angle as the last.  I just pulled up the concealing branch. 

The nests always seem to be sandwiched tightly between two branches, with the top branch making a low ceiling over the nest.  This makes the nest quite well hidden and difficult for most predators to approach.

Sometimes the birds will choose a location other than the juniper for their second nesting attempt.  Severe downdraughts from a powerful thunderstorm laid over a portion of this stand of Ashy Sunflowers.  The result was a tangle of horizontal stems close to the ground.

A couple weeks after the storm, I was trimming back some of the fallen plants to keep them from interfering with corn growing in a neighboring bed.  I stopped my work when I noticed a wad of grass seemingly stuffed between the stalks.  The grass should not have been there.

The grass I had seen was part of a Song Sparrow nest.  A couple of the stalks I had already cut had formed part of the roof over the nest, so the nest was more exposed than intended.  I bent a couple of fresh stalks over the nest and wove them in with the others in an attempt to repair the damage I had done.  Then I left the area alone for a few days and hoped that the sparrows would accept my alteration of their original design.

Apparently I was successful.  When next I checked, young birds were growing nicely.  If there was a problem, it was being caused by the wind blown plants attempting to return to a more upright position.  The shifting plant stalks had moved the nest about 30 degrees off level.  The nestlings seemed comfortable in their slanted home and were old enough to adjust their positions to match the new attitude.  Song Sparrow nestlings leave the nest about ten days after hatching, so these only had a few more days left in the nest anyhow.

One day I came out and heard young birds calling from the nearby field.  I checked the nest and it was empty. 

Although I could clearly hear the young birds calling for their meals, they stayed out of sight down in the grass.  The adult birds were seen busily searching for insects to deliver to their offspring.  It’s hard to tell how many sparrows have been produced from my vegetable garden.  I am assuming that it is the same male that comes back each year to this particular spot.  I once read of a male Song Sparrow that returned to the same nesting area 16 years in a row.  I hope my bird can match that longevity.

Some Bird Nests

I’ve seen four Robin’s nests so far this spring.  Two in cedars, one in a white pine and this one anchored to my house.  The Robins are year-round residents and spend the winter months feeding on various fruits or searching the creek edges for various arthropods and worms.

This female completed her clutch at the usual four eggs.  She’s been sitting for a week now, so the eggs should be half way to hatching.

Ledges are often used as nest sites.  Robins also readily utilize an open platform type nest box.
 

Usually the nest is higher than just a couple of feet above the ground.  I’m hoping this one doesn’t attract any passing predators.  The Robin nest is in close proximity to a Phoebe nest on a platform showing in the upper left corner of the photo.

The Phoebe chicks are already well developed.  I installed this nest platform specifically for the Phoebes in an attempt to keep them from nesting on the porch.  Porch nests almost always failed, usually because some unexpected late night visitor spooked the birds from the nest and the young succumbed to exposure overnight.  The Phoebes now raise at least one family each year on this platform.

The Wild Turkey nest I showed a couple of weeks ago has been plundered by some predator with a taste for eggs.  I have been purposely staying away from the nest so as not to leave a scent trail to be followed by hungry mammals.  A broken egg on the nearby walking trail was evidence of what had happened and the disturbed nest was clearly visible from a distance.

I’ve seen Opossums, Skunks and Crows do this type of damage to eggs.  Those three species are all common here.  This is why the turkey lays so many eggs.  It only takes a small percentage of successful nests to sustain the population.

The nest boxes are doing a brisk business.  Out of a dozen boxes, only one held a Bluebird nest.  Since I see several Bluebird pairs around the field, I assume some are nesting in natural cavities.

Tree Swallows occupy the majority of the boxes.  Twenty-five years ago, it was uncommon to see a nesting pair of Tree Swallows.  Bluebirds dominated the boxes at that time.

Feathers are used to line the Tree Swallow nest.  Turkey feathers are becoming more common, but the majority seem to come from domesticated ducks and chickens.

A single nest box was unoccupied and this is the reason why.  Wasps will aggressively defend their nest site from intruding birds or photographer’s heads.

The empty box did offer a platform from which the Meadowlark could sing undisturbed.  This guy tried to sing from occupied boxes, but was driven away by the resident nesting pair every time.  I’m not sure if the birds were defending their nest site against an intruder or just being critical of the Meadowlark’s vocalizations.

Killdeer Nest Destroyed

The Killdeer nest failed before it really got started.  Three days after I found the nest, we had a thunderstorm that produced heavy rain, strong winds and at the peak of the storm, dropped half inch hail for a full five minutes.  The egg didn’t have a chance.

I was disappointed when I checked the nest the next day.  I was also puzzled to find there was still only one egg.  I felt sure that the nest should have received one or two more eggs in those three days.  Maybe the nest was already a loss before the storm arrived.

I removed the broken egg on the off chance that the nest was still active.  I’ve read that there can sometimes be a significant time lag between eggs, although the chances are slim that this nest will see any more action.  It’s already been six days since the storm and I haven’t heard Killdeers calling at all during that time.  This empty depression will probably remain for the rest of the summer to remind me of the opportunity that was lost.