Every time I think the Evening Grosbeaks are thinning out or even migrating en mass, they return. I have had a huge flock of these golden birds on my porch all winter and spring. Every morning the air is flooded with raucous finch bird song.

According to many sources these beautiful birds are nomadic in southern areas but their presence here has been consistent. Irruptions (or rapid increases) of these birds in fall and winter are a common response to changing food supplies. Perhaps they stay around here because I feed them (as so many people do), but even with a stable food supply they will leave eventually. Western populations migrate to higher altitudes to breed sometime this spring and then return to the lowlands during the winter.   

In the Northeast, where I come from, the summer arrival of the grosbeaks is an event not to be missed because they migrate north to breed and are gone again within three months. In the last few years the bountiful flocks have been absent, having been replaced by a few breeding pairs. No one knows why Grosbeak numbers are in decline but apparently this downward trend holds for much of the US. While the pattern of decline is clear, the potential causes are murky unless one factors in the usual, Climate Change and insecticide use. I do know that these finches have adapted to having a regular supply of sunflower seed by growing a larger beak.

Evening Grosbeaks interest me because they are an example of a bird that migrates in a limited way, (altitudinal) and one who also makes a long distance seasonal flight.

 Migration is the patterned movement from one place to another that occurs in birds, mammals, fish, reptiles, amphibians, insects and crustaceans. Migration may also occur at the cellular level.

Migration can occur seasonally or just once in a lifetime.  Birds like grosbeaks migrate to find food and to reproduce, but I can’t find any data on why these birds move from Abiquiu to higher altitudes to breed when there are extensive cottonwood canopies  around here and a regular food supply, so there must be other unknown factors.

It’s important to distinguish between birds that migrate seasonally for food and reproduction from those who are forced to leave one place for another because of human induced habitat loss, and Climate Change. Is it possible that one of the reasons the grosbeaks move to the mountainous ranges is to escape the heat?   

Like scientists, I have been intrigued by migration because we know so little about how birds and animals know what they know, and because, unfortunately, whatever capabilities animals have developed over millennia are also being interrupted  in ways that we can barely comprehend.   
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Multitudes of studies indicate that 1,800 of the 10,000 remaining bird migrating species probably use a wide variety of mechanisms to navigate, including the stars, the sun, olfactory (chemical) cues, internal circadian rhythms that change in response to the seasons, and Earth's magnetic field. Controversial field theory may also offer an explanation. But the point is, we don’t really know. The mysteries of bird migration continue to haunt me with questions I can’t answer.

Here are a few examples of the ways bird migration has changed over the years:
1. Evening grosbeak migration patterns are shifting.
2.  Some Canadian geese migrate seasonally; others remain in some states year-round.
3. Lesser black-backed gulls began appearing regularly in the New Jersey area in the 1970s, and  are now fairly common winter visitors.
4. Sandhill cranes that used to migrate to Florida for the winter have stable winter populations in the state of Tennessee, and this year we had whole flocks of these birds who spent the winter here rather than moving further south.
5. Not all Rufous hummingbirds migrate to the tropics for the winter. Some are now flying south to areas like Alabama and Florida to remain there for the winter.
6. Barn swallows habitually migrated to South America during the winter but at present they also nest there in addition to moving north to breed.

We may not know how migration works, but we do know the patterns of migration are changing and that Climate Change is a reality. My fervent hope is that somehow most species, who are all our “elders” – humans, after all have only been around for 200,000 years - (plants for 450 million years, animals for 350 million years) - may possess strategies that we can’t even imagine to survive the damage that we have brought upon all living things, including ourselves.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 

I have developed a fascination and a deep respect for the Great Tailed Grackle as a result of making regular visits to Walmart. I began feeding these birds bread crumbs this winter because I like them so much and because I wanted to observe these clever characters hopping about dodging automobiles and people who apparently don’t have much use for them. Some always hang out on the roof with the fake owls that were put there to scare them.
 
I wonder how many people have actually looked at the Great Tailed Grackle because both sexes are quite stunning. The male is glossy black with an ecclesiastical purple iridescence. He has a long, keel-shaped tail, massive bill and yellow eyes. The female is about half the size of the male and looks as if she’s been dipped in brown oil; she has a smaller keel shaped tail. The visual characteristic that stands out the most to me is the brilliance of those bright yellow eyes. These birds radiate intelligence!

And, in fact, studies that have been done on these birds reveal that they are adept at problem solving (even from a human point of view).

For example, the Grackles problem-solving power was tested by posing glass cylinders full of water with bits of food floating just outside the birds reach. To grab the morsels, the birds had to drop in pebbles to raise the water levels. After a number of trials most of the Grackles figured out that dropping pebbles into the water raised the water level so they could feed. They also learned that it was usually more efficient to use heavy pebbles to reach the snack, but if provided with too large stones the birds turned back to small pebbles to reach their goal.

Another test done had even more dramatic results. Silver and gold tubes of food were presented to the grackles but only the gold tubes had peanuts and bread in them. The Grackles immediately chose the gold tubes, but when the food was placed in silver tubes the birds instantly chose them. These tests reveal not only problem solving ability but also the birds’ flexibility in terms of learning.

Its important to note that Grackles outperformed three species in the crow family (Corvids).
This desert-adapted bird doesn’t need much beyond food, trees, water, and its own wits for survival. Once confined to Central America, the species began moving north 200 years ago, and now covers an immense region from northwestern Venezuela up to southern Canada. In 1900, the northern limits of its range barely extended into Texas; by the end of the century it had nested in at least 14 states and was reported in 21 states and 3 Canadian provinces. This explosive growth occurred mainly after 1960 and coincided with human-induced habitat changes such as irrigation and urbanization.

Where people have gone, Great-tailed Grackles have followed: you can find them in both agricultural and urban settings from sea level to 7,500 feet that provide open foraging areas, a water source, and trees or hedgerows. In rural areas, look for grackles pecking for seeds in feedlots, farmyards, and newly planted fields, and following tractors to feed on flying insects and exposed worms. In town, grackles forage in parks, neighborhood lawns, and at dumps. More natural habitats include chaparral and second-growth forest.

Great-tailed Grackles are loud, social birds that can form flocks numbering in the tens of thousands. Each morning small groups disperse to feed in open fields and urban areas, often foraging with cowbirds and other blackbirds, then return to roosting sites at dusk. This evening routine includes a nonstop cacophony of whistles, squeals, and rattles as birds settle in for the night.

As near as I can tell Grackles forage almost anywhere and will eat almost anything. What this says to me is that these kinds of birds have learned to co – habit with humans in very ingenious ways that must include being able to deal with pesticides.

During the last month (March) I have noted that there are fewer Grackles hanging around the parking lot. One reason for this absence may be that during the day some birds are moving into more rural areas to feed. In addition to country foraging and prior to actual nesting, both males and females begin to collect material for the nest site about four weeks before actual breeding begins in April.

Nesting occurs in colonies of a few to thousands, with the nests often placed close together. The actual nest construction is done after this period of “gathering,” which although not mentioned in any of the sources I consulted, must be related to the mating process.  The females choose the nest site, and often “borrow” nest-building materials from other females. The nest is made of grass, twigs, reeds, and mud and is woven by the female in about 5 days in a tree, shrub, or hidden in marshland vegetation placed anywhere from 3 to 30 feet off the ground or water. Nest size varies from four inches across to 13 inches deep.

The female will lay 4 to 7 eggs that are pale greenish brown with blotches. The young are ready to fledge in a month. Mother is responsible for brooding and feeding. During this period some male Grackles may guard the nest while the female forages. In contrast some others may pair with a second female during this time leaving the female to manage on her own.

Curiously, fewer male than female nestlings survive. Adult male survival may also be lower than adult female survival, which would result in a female-biased adult sex ratio.

Although there is considerable overlap in the distribution of the three species, the Common Grackle occurs throughout the eastern United States and Canada, the Great-tailed Grackle is found in the Midwest and south/western United States, and the Boat-tailed Grackle is confined to Florida and coastal areas of the Gulf states and the eastern United States.

The Grackle is protected by the Migratory Bird Treaty Act, which as far as I can tell, means practically nothing. People routinely haze, shoot, or use pesticides to eliminate these birds but their numbers continue to increase. In this time of great uncertainty due to Climate Change and continued overuse of lethal pesticides I can’t help but feel reassured that some non – human species will survive, and whenever I spend time with the Walmart birds I feel flickers of hope rising. I am already looking forward to seeing the Great Tailed Grackles once again flooding the Walmart parking in Espanola by the middle of May.

We are approaching the spring equinox, historically one of my favorite times of year. The wheel is turning as the sun’s light grows more brilliant and the sunrise occurs further to the northeast. The night sky is sparkling with cracked stars. Venus shines low in the east… The other notable change is that here anyway, a pair of White - winged doves are starting to sing at dawn. I can also hear other dove songs in the distance. When the couple retires to the Russian olive after feasting on cracked corn, Lily b, my African (European) Collared dove peers out at them. The melodious “who who who hoooh” sound or one of its variations (depending on the species) is music to our ears.
 
My love affair with doves began when I was a child. I used to draw and paint stylized white doves on scraps of paper after watching them flutter to the ground to feed outside my grandmother’s window. As an adult I often had a hundred (Mourning) doves feeding on seed that I scattered outside my back door. At a Jungian conference in Assisi, Italy in the 80’s I was serenaded from dawn to dusk by thousands of doves and pigeons including pure white doves.
 
When my father died suddenly, soon after one of these trips, a white dove appeared with the Mourning doves and stayed around for exactly one day before disappearing as mysteriously as s/he came. That same night my father’s brother, my uncle, bit into a tiny stone dove that was hidden in his pasta; that white dove - stone remains on his son’s mantelpiece to this day. I didn’t know until recently that the white dove is a Ring neck dove mutation.
 
The spring after my father’s death I acquired a dove of my own, an African collared dove who is closely related to the European Collared/Ring neck and White winged doves who live around here. Lily b has been a free flying house bird for 28 years. He has traveled back and forth across country a few times in the back of the car always without a cage. He has also made a number of excursions into the wild but he always returns by his own volition. He has also survived three mates, two of which lived a normal life span of 8-10 years like our wild doves do here…
 
Like me, Lily b does a lot of bird watching. He spends most mornings these days perched on a basket or windowsill peering out at the White winged doves. The White winged doves do not favor Lily’s company as he discovered while flying around outdoors one morning early last summer. He had been enjoying a sun bath on the open porch before making a brief foray into the trees. Undaunted, Lily continues to converse with his avian relatives with great enthusiasm. Lily b is a very democratic bird!
 
White winged Doves live in dense, thorny forests, streamside woodlands, deserts full of cactus and, more recently, urban and suburban areas of the southern U.S. They tend to breed in the interiors of forests rather than near the edges. White-winged doves now breed as far north as Oklahoma so the species is moving northward and the breeding range extends south to Panama and east to Cuba. Wherever they range White winged doves prefer places where nesting habitat is interspersed with feeding habitat, like grain fields or desert cactus communities. In the winter, White-winged doves are found throughout most of their breeding range as well as in the southeastern United States, and some individuals wander widely across the continent.
The White-Winged dove eats mostly grains and other agricultural crops like wheat, sunflower, milo, corn, and safflower. They also eat fruits and large seeds and seem predisposed toward large seeds perhaps because of their large bills.
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 In some desert areas this dove often feeds on the fruits of cactus, and visits their flowers for nectar. White winged doves are important pollinators of the giant saguaro cactus, a fact that fascinates me because I don’t think of doves as pollinators. They also commonly feed above ground level on berries and raised bird feeders although they won’t feed on my porch; I have to throw corn over the railing. Like many birds, these doves consume small stones and sand to help with digestion. They also eat snails as a protein source and bone fragments for calcium.

Males choose the nesting territory while the females select the specific nest site, preferring a protected tree branch located in the shade. They gravitate towards woodlands, particularly along streams. Around here during the summer they prefer the Cottonwoods.

The male gathers twigs and brings them to the female, who constructs the nest over a couple of days. Made mostly of sticks, the nest also may have weeds, grasses or mosses arranged in a flimsy bowl about 4 inches across. Doves in general are very casual nest builders and nests rarely survive one season. Although the rule is that two white eggs are laid and gestated for about three weeks these doves may have a couple of broods a year.

White winged Doves walk along tree branches and on the ground; they fly in a swift and straight path. Courting and nesting males will occasionally strike bills and slap wings with each other, but they mostly defend their perches and nests by using an aggressive call or flailing their wings and tail. Males perform courtship flights, spiraling up into the sky and then back to the branch they started from in a stiff-winged glide. They also bow, puff up their necks, or fan their tails to entice females to mate; White winged Doves are monogamous. When a predator comes to call they may feign a broken wing to lead the intruder away.

 By far the most dangerous predator to these doves is man and in this part of the Southwest White winged doves were hunted almost to extinction. Today their overall populations are still declining because of habitat loss.

I was surprised to read that most of those nesting in the Southwest move south in fall because we seem to have a stable, though modest year round population, perhaps because we feed our birds or, more likely, because of Climate Change. Migration, when it occurs, is early in both seasons, most birds arriving by March and leaving in September.
Each year I am on alert for the first coos from the local population of doves because for me they usher one of nature’s certainties, namely that spring is on the way even if snow or silver frost covers the grasses in the field. The flutter of dove wings and melodious cooing creates a symphony I wouldn’t want to live without. Lily b and I find a deep pleasure in each moment that these birds grace our yard.

We know from fossilized records that the Sandhill Cranes are one of oldest birds in the world, and have been in their present form for 10, 30, or 60 million years (depending on the source). They have apparently maintained a family and community structure that allows them to live together peacefully and migrate by the thousands along Nebraska’s central flyway twice a year.
Sandhill Cranes mate for life, and in the spring the adults engage in a complex “dance” with one another. During mating, pairs vocalize in a behavior known as "unison calling." They throw their heads back and unleash a passionate duet—an extended litany of coordinated song. Cranes also dance, run, leap high in the air and otherwise cavort around—not only during mating, but all year long (Even young birds dance and throw sticks and grasses into the air while jumping around enthusiastically).

In their northern habitat, the female lays two eggs a year in thick protected areas at the edge of reed filled marshes. Before nesting these birds “paint” their gray feathers with dull brown reeds and mud to reduce the possibility of being seen by a predator. Born a couple of days a part, the second chick rarely survives. The remaing fuzzy youngster that might make it through the first year stays with its parents for about three years before reaching sexual maturity and striking out on its own, but even then the adult stays within the parameters of its extended family, and it is these families that comprise the flocks of cranes that we see flying together. During migration, a multitude of these families travel together by the hundreds or thousands. There are no leaders and often it is possible to observe what looks like an unorganized random flock (but isn’t) or diagonal thread made up of cranes flying (up to thousands of feet) above the ground.
 
In every watery roosting place there are a few cranes that remain awake all night alerting their relatives to would be predators, and in fact I have been awakened during the night by crane warning cries that sound quite frantic and are higher pitched than normal. I think it’s significant that these very ancient birds have survived so long in their present form. Could it be because they understand the value of living in community, perhaps acting as models for humans who, for the most part, seem to have forgotten what genuine community might consist of? 
 
Most recently these birds have been a presence in my life since last November when they first arrived, I believed for a brief stopover, before moving south to places like the Bosque del Apache to spend the winter.
 
When I first came to New Mexico almost three years ago I was astonished and bewildered by their haunting collective cries even when I couldn’t see them which was most of the time during the same fall month…
 
This year the cranes not only stopped by but many decided to spend the winter here much to my great joy, perhaps a result of Climate Change which is shifting their migration patterns and created conditions like the extreme drought that dramatically lowered the level of Red Willow River over this last year.
 
My hypothesis is that the resulting shallow riffles (one of which just happens to be below my house) provided many cranes with the safety they needed to roost there all winter long. For three precious months I listened with awe and wonder to pre-dawn crane murmuring and on sunny mornings watched huge flocks of cranes take to the air with their haunting br-rilling cries. Every night I stood outside to listen to that same contented collective murmuring just before dark as the cranes settled in for the night.
 
When they are all talking to one another during the day (cranes need to be in constant contact with each other/family members) it is hard to distinguish one voice from another because listening to the whole is a symphonic masterpiece. But this winter I slowly learned to identity various cries by listening carefully to smaller groups as they took to the sky. The highest pitched voices belong to the youngsters, the lowest and most full-bodied calls come from the males, and the females speak in tongues from the middle.
 
Sandhill Cranes are omnivores and feed in wet meadows or in shallow marshes where plants grow out of the water during the warmer seasons. They prefer a diet of seeds and cultivated grains but also include berries, tubers, crayfish, frogs, small mammals, worms and insects. In the field next to me I think they fed on wild sunflower seeds and native grasses.
 
As previously mentioned Climate Change is shifting migration patterns. Some groups are now spending their entire lives in one place like Florida (these are endangered), others are no longer migrating further south than Tennessee, although they also fly north in the spring. It is unusual to have Cranes living in Northern New Mexico, although I understand from local fishermen that a few have occasionally remained here throughout the winter. I recently learned that Sandhill Cranes have even been observed in parts of Maine.
 
Their normal migration routes take them from Mexico as far northwest as (eastern) Siberia, into the Canadian Shield and Alaska to breed with one major stopover in Nebraska at the Platte River where 600,000 cranes meet to rest themselves for a month before making the last leg of their arduous and dangerous seasonal journey (another group that settles further northeast makes a stop in Mississippi). In the fall all northern populations will make the trip south for the winter because of inclement weather and lack of food, stopping again to rest and feed at the same places.

​New Mexico and Texas have the dubious distinction of being the first states to legalize Crane slaughter and now every state along their central flyway except Nebraska engages in spring and fall hunting. We can thank the state Fish and Wildlife organizations for “managing” the crane population by issuing licenses to kill these magnificent birds to bring in even more money when these organizations are already extremely well supported financially by the NRA and our taxpayer dollars. A Caveat to those that don’t know: All State Fish and Wildlife agencies, that purport to support wildlife have a deadly hidden agenda: to kill birds and animals at their discretion.
 
Although at present these birds appear to be maintaining a stable population the low survival rate of even one chick a year alerts us to the fact that uncertain survival rates and delayed reproduction factor into the difficulties inherent in crane conservation, and to that we must now add Climate Change – the ultimate unknown. It is prudent to recall that by conservative estimates we have already lost 50 percent of our non – human species.
 
When I first began to hear the Cranes I never imagined that I would start to see them or watch them make gracious descents into a neighboring field at all times of the day, every day for months. Watching them cup their six - foot wings, drop their long legs and spread their tails as they parachuted to the ground is a gift that I have never taken for granted. A solitary musical rolling rill, a haunting cry that raises the hair on my arms is a sound that now lives on in my mind and body.
 
Spring migration has begun and the largest aggregations of cranes are moving north. Some days the bowl of blue sky feels too empty, but some small flocks are still visible especially during the early morning and again at dusk. I noted the sudden loss of the largest flocks just before this last full moon and wondered if these birds also migrated at night. Further research confirmed that Sandhill Cranes sometimes do migrate after dark during the week before and after full moons.
 
A few days ago the Core of Engineers opened the dam raising the river - the protected riffles below my house disappeared, so during this last week in February I am without the morning joy of listening to nearby pre-dawn murmuring, but can still see and hear some Cranes flying by.  According to my friend Barbara R. some flocks are still at the Bosque del Apache, so hopefully we will be hearing their haunting cries as these last Cranes fly northward. It isn’t until April that all Sandhills reach the Platte River …
 
Pueblo people say that humans were once Cranes who lived in the clouds… they came to earth and danced for joy in the rain… Cranes also watched over ceremonies and remain a part of some Indigenous rituals today.  Additionally, Sandhills act as Guardians for the People easing transitions from life to death and beyond….
 
Cranes are Elders in every sense of the word, ancient relatives and they continue on, some adapting, others following scripts or patterns that stretch back to antiquity. The way they live, migrating out of seasonal necessity, returning to home - places, celebrating through community and song in life and death is a way of being that embodies flowing like a river… And for that, their magnificent beauty and inherent wisdom, I thank them.

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Late in December I noticed one morning that my suet was covered with tiny little light gray birds that I had never seen before. About thirty clustered together almost like the way bats do. High pitched chirps, peeps, and chattering filled the air. All plumages of these little birds are similar; They have gray caps, blue-gray upper-parts, and white or buff colored under - parts.
 
I continued to be regaled by these little birds for about two months. They are now disappearing either because they are migrating elsewhere or in part because at least one hundred noisy evening grosbeaks have taken over the porch.
 
The Pygmy Nuthatch (Sitta pygmaea) is a tiny roundish songbird less than four inches long. They range from British Columbia, south through various ‘discontinuous’ parts of the northwest, Sierra Nevada range, southern Rockies and down to Mexico.

Pygmy nuthatches are amazing acrobats, clambering through the cottonwood branches; less often they creep along limbs or the trunk like bigger nuthatches. I can literally watch them for hours.

They are supposed to live almost exclusively in long-needled pine forests and are particularly closely associated with ponderosa pines. Their normal forest habitat includes stands of older, large trees, pines, oak, aspen maple and fir so what were they doing here? Since they depend upon cavities in old trees (snags) for roosting and nesting, Pygmy Nuthatches are most abundant in forests that have escaped heavy logging and snag removal. They range up to 10,000 feet in the California mountains, and even higher in Mexico.

Pygmy Nuthatches eat insects, other invertebrates and seeds. Here, besides the suet cakes they loved (a fact that this writer never found in print) they also feasted on both sunflower and mixed seeds.

During the breeding season they eat mostly arthropods—including beetles, wasps, ants, bugs, caterpillars, and spiders—by probing cracks, scaling off loose bark, and gleaning from needle clusters and cones. Pygmy Nuthatches cache seeds year-round by hammering them into crevices or under flakes of bark on the tree, saving them for later.

The male appears to take the lead in choosing a woodpecker hole or natural cavity as a nest site, usually in the trunk of a ponderosa pine or other long-needled pine, but sometimes in other species. Pygmy Nuthatches nest in live trees, dead trees, dead parts of live trees, and nest boxes.

Pygmy Nuthatches can excavate their own cavities, but often they just enlarge and adapt existing ones, creating irregular holes about 5–10 inches deep and 1–6 inches across. Both the male and the female, sometimes assisted by their offspring from previous years, help dig out the nest cavity and bring lining materials. In the bottom of the hole they build a nest cup of bark shreds, fine moss, grass, plant down, fur, wool, snakeskin, cocoons, and often feathers. They may also stuff similar materials in crevices within the cavity, helping to weatherproof the nest. The pair keeps lining the nest during egg-laying during which time 5 -9 eggs are laid. The nestlings fledge in about a month.

Pygmy Nuthatches are cooperative breeders: about one third of breeding pairs get help raising their young from 1–3 male relatives. These are often the breeding pair’s own sons from previous years; they help defend the nest and feed incubating females and chicks. To deter squirrels, Pygmy Nuthatches may sway threateningly from side to side or even cover the entrance with their bodies to make it less visible. In winter, multiple family groups join up to form large, chattering, highly social flocks that range over a foraging territory. These flocks also forage with other species including warblers, chickadees, bushtits, kinglets, woodpeckers, and juncos. This is exactly what happened here. In cold weather they seek out well-insulated cavities to spend the night. Pairs roost together and juveniles roost with their parents as part of larger groups.

Sometimes more than 150 individuals sleep in a single tree, stacked up in squares, triangles, diamonds, oblongs, or tiers of birds. They use controlled hypothermia to withstand cold winter nights, a strategy which no other North American bird species uses in combination with group-roosting in cavities. At dusk every evening I could see what looked like hundreds gathered in the single closest cottonwood tree to the porch. They always arrived to feed at dawn.

Because Pygmy Nuthatches have a tendency to move around in large groups it makes them difficult to count as I learned trying to figure out how many of these delightful little birds I had on my porch at one time. I put out two extra suet cakes to keep them happy!

Throughout the twentieth century, logging, grazing, and fire suppression converted many ponderosa pine forests into mosaics of differently aged trees and dense thickets. The Pygmy Nuthatch population has declined as a result, since the nuthatches rely on mature pines and standing dead trees for suitable nest sites and foraging habitat. No doubt the catastrophic decline of insect species has also taken a toll on these little birds. Forest managers could help Pygmy Nuthatches and a host of other birds that nest in cavities by allowing some dead trees to remain standing. People can help increase Pygmy Nuthatch abundance by installing nest boxes in disturbed forest, which can double the number of breeding pairs in an area. Though they’re useful for nesting during the breeding season, boxes are rarely used for year-round roosting.

Until this wild flock descended on me I had never even seen a Pygmy nuthatch before so I was particularly grateful to have them around for so long.
 

This morning I listened to great horned owls courting in the pre-dawn hours and the night before last I was awakened by a screech owl’s high pitched whinny. It’s also January, the month many owls are creating territorial space for breeding, so it’s no wonder that owls are on my mind.
 
The ‘who ho ho hoo hoo hoo’ courting call of the male – a sort of mild monochromatic whoohing - is a very pleasing sound while the haunting whinny of the female is impossible to mistake. The latter, the female’s call, awakened me in the middle of the night two nights ago, but I never heard a male respond. I give thanks every single day for living so close to water because owls are drawn to wetlands for hunting and I have a penchant for all owls.
 
My friend Andrew who lives in El Rito had a remarkable experience with a couple of western screech owls. In his own words, returning to his unfinished house after having been away all winter he writes,
 
 “The evening I got in, I set the mattress down on the floor of the kitchen and went to sleep.  I woke up and looked up at the beams and there they were!!  Two gorgeous creatures staring down at me.” 
 
The two little screech owls were perched on the rafters above him. Oh, I would have given anything to see what he saw! Although they left after his return, he can still hear them calling.
 
Eastern and Western screech owls are different but very similar species that overlap in the Rio Grande valley. They both have white undersides streaked with black (a cinnamon colored variation exists in the eastern species). Both have identical   ear tufts and black circles around their yellow eyes. Sometimes the tufts are raised and at other times they are barely visible. The females are larger than the males. Eastern and western screech owls are usually told apart by their bill color that is greenish gray for the eastern type and gray to black for the western owls.

The two owls also have slightly different calls with the western species sounding a bit more like a wail (though personally I cannot make a distinction between the two). To stay in contact, screech-owls use a short "double trill" call; when agitated, they make a barking sound. Another interesting vocalization occurs when Screech-Owls snap their bills when approached closely by a potential predator, or someone like me who is on the watch for owls all the time. Nestlings begin making this noise when they are about 8 days old. It is most definitely a defensive call.
 
Screech-Owls live mainly in forested habitats, especially in bands of deciduous trees along wetlands and canyons. Common trees include cottonwood, aspen, and other poplars, alder, water birch, oak, and maple. It is also possible to find Screech owls in suburbs, parks coastal areas, and in mountains up to about 6,000 feet in elevation (Andrew lives at 7000 feet).

Screech-Owls are carnivores. They eat mostly small mammals, though they also feast on birds, fish, amphibians, and invertebrates including scorpions. Their diet can vary tremendously from place to place and from season to season. Mammal prey includes pocket mice, deer-mice, grasshopper mice, shrews, wood -rats, kangaroo rats, as well as bats and rabbits. Invertebrates include insects, crayfish, worms, slugs, snails, and whip scorpions.

Like most owls Screech owls are sit-and-wait predators, perching inconspicuously on tree branches peering around for a meal. They also sometimes sit above creeks and rivers watching for crayfish to emerge from the shallows. They snatch invertebrates from foliage and catch flying insects in midair. They prey on bats leaving a roost.

Like many small owls (8 inches in length), Screech owls nest in tree cavities excavated by woodpeckers. They may also use naturally occurring cavities, such as those formed where branches have broken off a trunk. Occasionally, they nest in holes or crevices in cliffs and banks. Wherever the location, the male owl finds a suitable home, then calls or leads the female to it, sometimes by carrying an enticing prey item. A pair may use the same cavity for several years in a row.