The Dog Days of Birding

Joe Meche is vice president of the North Cascades Audubon Society and is in his 10th year as editor of the chapter newsletter. Joe is also a member of the board of directors of the Washington Brant Foundation. He has been photographing birds and landscapes for more than 30 years and has been watching birds for more than 50 years.

The “dog days of summer” are traditionally the hottest and muggiest of the year, and tend to be a period of stagnation and inactivity in many parts of the country. The so-called dog days were named by ancient astronomers who believed that the conjunction of Sirius—the Dog Star—and our sun combined to create hotter days in the period between late July and early September. In the Pacific Northwest, these dog days are not usually as severe as in other parts of the country, but they are perceptible.

Some of us tend to take for granted the moderate temperatures that we enjoy in our little corner of the world. The maritime influence creates a year-round temperature range that often makes us the envy of relatives and other folks living to the south and east of us. We do experience the occasional hot spells and those dreaded Northeasters in winter. For the most part, however, our seasons are quite tolerable, to say the least.

In the annual procession of the seasons, winter grudgingly gives way to spring and as spring subsequently glides into summer, noticeable changes occur in the human population. We have longer periods of light to help us shake off the gray-weather doldrums; we enthusiastically begin to shed our layers of heavy clothing; and we eventually find the shorts and sandals that have been hidden away for the past six months.

It’s a familiar seasonal blueprint that we always embrace as better weather prevails. Doors and windows are opened for the first time in months and gardening is on everyone’s mind along with all sorts of outdoor activities. It’s no secret that we love to play outside, so we leave our respective cocoons and set our sights on the promise of another idyllic Pacific Northwest summer.

The seasons of birdwatching tend to follow a well-established pattern as well, with all eyes and optics focused on the movement of birds. As it has been throughout the history of humans, the great avian migrations of spring and fall command our attention and ultimately establish the targets of our birdwatching obsession throughout the winter and into the breeding seasons of spring and early summer.

In the colder months of the year, we marvel at the spectacular flocks of the numerous species that spend the winter in our more moderate, maritime climate. In spring, those same winter visitors leave for their northern and eastern breeding grounds while we anxiously await the arrival of the neotropical species to augment our resident breeding populations.

Springtime is alive with the sights and sounds of courtship, nesting, and the coming of age of the young birds of the year. It’s the best time of year to train your birding ear and enjoy all the wonderful colors that accompany the breeding season. Warmer weather usually heralds the arrival of summer and then, too soon, the young of the year fledge and things begin to get noticeably quieter.

The contrasts to winter birding are quite obvious, not only in the birds, but also in the watchers. In pursuit of our prey in warmer weather, we shed layers of our own, almost emulating the avian molt. During the drier months, rain is more of a blessing than a curse and some of us actually look forward to a refreshing summer rain. To fully appreciate the benefits of rain, you need only to decide if you prefer green or brown as a basic landscape color.

Of all the birdwatching seasons, mid- to late-summer is the most imprecise of all. This is the time that I mark on my own personal calendar as the Dog Days of Birding. Most of us don’t live here for the heat and on the hot days that seem to be prevalent in late July and August, most of the moisture on the eyepieces of my optics comes from the sweat of my brow. Even though we persevere with our passion to watch birds, just consider how the birding year progresses to reach this nadir of activity, for birds as well as for humans.

The migratory impulse has taken our wintering flocks and we’ve witnessed the arrival the colorful and songful breeders that grace our backyards and woodlots. Most of the birds that have utilized our nesting boxes have flown, with their young in tow. And now, field identification is tested to the fullest. For starters, there are fledglings of numerous species and waterfowl that begin their annual molt in this warmer period.

Recently fledged young often accompany the parent birds to learn the ropes on their first excursions away from the nest. The young birds are usually easy to spot with their not-so-perfect assortment of feathers and their almost nervous, trembling behavior as the adults approach with food. This is also a season of high mortality for the younger, inexperienced birds.

These same fledglings provide an interesting chorus of their own. Since they have yet to master the innate repertoire of songs and calls, identification can be challenging. The begging sounds of young birds run the gamut between melodic and downright eerie. The soft whistling sound of recently fledged black-headed grosbeaks contrasts sharply with the late-night screams of young great horned owls. The latter has been known to mystify many folks and even precipitate numerous calls and e-mails to the “what-bird-is-that” hotlines. The seemingly endless begging sounds of young gulls can border on annoying.

To stay cool and fill the time on these dog days, stay closer to the shorelines and take on the challenge of identifying and aging some of our local gulls. Black oystercatchers are showing up with some regularity along the rocky shorelines all the way to Larrabee State Park. And the search is still on for possible nesting sites of some of the numerous Caspian terns that frequent the entirety of Bellingham Bay throughout most of the day.

For cooler morning birding, consider a trek to the higher elevations and the good numbers of birds that breed right up to the snowline. The numerous waterfalls in the Cascades hold potential for black swifts, and dippers are easy to find on the countless streams that rush down to Puget Sound. Easy day hikes on the upper slopes in the Mount Baker area can afford opportunities for hermit thrushes, grouse, ptarmigan and the occasional gray-crowned rosy finch, to name but a few.

A favorite pastime of mine on those long and luxuriously sweet summer evenings is to sit outside with a favorite beverage or birding companion—or both. As you ponder the sweetness of it all, sit back and watch for the evening flights of common nighthawks and the local contingent of Caspian terns. Both have distinctive calls and are difficult to mistake—especially the raucous terns.

Watching birds throughout the year can be as varied as the seasons, and birding in the dog days of summer is different, to say the least. This is a good time to stay cool and plan on the excitement of the coming months as the good rain and our winter birds return from their distant ports of call. Keep in mind, however, that July usually marks the beginning of the fall migration of many shorebird species that are now heading south after their breeding season in the northern latitudes. §

And the seasons they go round and round
And the painted ponies they go up and down.
We’re captive on a carousel of time.
We can’t return, we can only look
Behind from where we came
And go round and round in the circle game.