My yard birds 

George Walter

Jill Severn | For The JOLT News

Last month, I mentioned I was paying attention to the avian dawn chorus in my yard. I’d go outside with my smartphone in the early morning, which for me is 5:30 to 8:00, turn on the Merlin app and walk around the yard for 10 minutes. 

Merlin and I both listen to the birdsong, with Merlin helping me identify some vocalizations that I would miss. For example, one morning Merlin noticed (heard, actually) a great blue heron overhead. That’s not really a “yard bird,” but it was an interesting flyover.  

Before I write more about birds, we need to discuss something called “habitat richness.” This is the amount and, more importantly, the variety of habitats in one place. I am fortunate to live in a habitat rich location. Nearby, within listening distance, are tall fir trees and overgrown wetlands, and lots of edge habitat in between.  

As a result, during a typical dawn chorus survey, Merlin and I identified about 17 bird species, with a high of 21 and a low, one cold morning, of only 12. Every morning, we heard the usual crew: robin, song sparrow, towhee and mourning dove. Other very frequent singers were black-capped and chestnut-backed chickadees, Bewick’s wren, and the melodious Swainson’s thrush. 

Part of my yard is a willow tangle, and that’s the favorite haunt of two interesting birds, the Wilson’s warbler and warbling vireo. These willows host many insects that these two species like to snack on.  

The vireo walk.

George Walter | For The JOLT News

Nearby tall fir trees make up a second near-yard habitat. That’s where the western tanager, cedar waxwings, black-throated warblers and red crossbills hang out. 

Tall trees in the backyard.

George Walter | For The JOLT News

Now that my morning birding 10-minute morning routine is consistent, I’ve start to notice what’s different and unusual. One morning a black-head grosbeak male, not an everyday species, showed up and sang the entire 10 minutes singing. That’s quite a feat.  

Two of my yard bird species have thin, high-pitched, short songs that I could easily miss without Merlin’s help. The brown creeper is a small, indistinct insect-eating species that is hanging out and perhaps nesting under my deck. At least that where it has been singing from.  

The second species isn’t one that I have a lot of appreciation for — the brown-headed cowbird. The males’ song is a short, liquid gurgling sound. These birds are nest predators — the female will lay one or more eggs in the nest of an unsuspecting nesting mom, usually a warbler, vireo or blackbird, in the expectation that she will raise their young. Apparently, I have sufficient habitat richness that the cowbirds find my yard and attractive breeding territory. 

Here's the final report of my morning ritual, the cumulative total: I have about 26 bird species breeding in or near my yard. In addition, there are another 15 or so species that I think of as flyover species — the ones like swallows included in my dawn chorus list.  

Of course, I realize that some of you reading this live in town and may not be blessed with a birdy yard. But even an apartment dweller who opens a window is likely to hear some bird song — a gull, robin, crow or chickadee — if the traffic isn’t too loud for you and/or the Merlin app to make out their vocalizations.   

And we are all blessed with one public resource that includes habitat richness — our public parks and wild areas. We have an abundance of bird species breeding right here in our county.

To confirm this, all you have to do is to take a walk in one of these parks with your smartphone and the Merlin app. You will probably record many bird species. And, just as important, you will enjoy spending that time outside communing with nature. What could be better? 

George Walter is environmental program manager at the Nisqually Indian Tribe’s natural resources department; he also has a 45-plus year interest in bird watching. He may be reached at george@theJOLTnews.com 

Photos for this column are provided by Liam Hutcheson, a 17-year-old Olympia area bird enthusiast and avid photographer.