Purple martins perch on the anemometers on the radio tower near Lake Cheston.
The anemometers were set up this year by Sewanee’s Sustainability Office to test the feasibility of wind-powered electricity generation. The martins probably have an edge in wind wisdom: they are gathering in preparation for their southward migration to Amazonia, powered by biofuels in the form of small flying insects.
A liberal interpretation of the uses of a “bird box.” This immature red-shouldered hawk was driving the tree swallows crazy. At least four swallows were dive-bombing the hawk.
Tree swallow is visible in front of the horse's shoulder.
Eventually, the hawk flew, leaving the swallows to inspect their box.
These shell fragments were lying in the vegetable garden this morning. Their turquoise color and small size makes me suspect that they came from a catbird nest rather than a robin. Junebug ate them before more serious investigation could be completed.
Kingbirds sing from the treetops on the festival grounds.
Eastern kingbird, barely visible, centered in the O of ROO in the hand/globe sculpture. He sings without amplification.
The queen? Perhaps Alison Krauss who, with an inflection of a sung note, can send chills down the spines of thousands of listeners standing in the Tennessee afternoon sun.
Alison Krauss and Union Station. Approximate air temperature: sunny side up.
The royals preside over a Dominion of Dust.
Quarter of a million feet on a few dozen acres.
Nightfall.
tik tik bzzzzzz
I stepped out of my car into the vast field that is the Bonnaroo parking area and immediately heard the avian headliner for the day: a grasshopper sparrow singing from a post. This is not a common bird, so I knew immediately that I’d come to the right place for acoustic revelry. No doubt the bird wonders why eighty thousand people just showed up in his territory.
Grasshopper sparrow with Bonnaroo's firetower and Ferris wheel in the background.
I had a sound recorder in my hand when the bird flew over. The hawk’s whistled cry is a quintessential sound of the summer forest. Think: sweat and lush green humidity. The birds are secretive during breeding and so are more often heard than seen. They are much more conspicuous when they migrate in the spring and fall, circling high as they soar to Central and South America .
The recording is quiet, but the two-part whistle is evident. A chickadee calls at the end:
This nestling woodpecker is in the tree next to Mi Casa restaurant. Many thanks to Buck Butler who alerted me to its presence.
I could not stay long enough to watch the nest until the parents returned, so I don’t know if this is the only nestling, or whether there are multiple youngsters who compete for access to the nest hole entrance.
Nestling pileated woodpecker
Free guacamole dip with all beetle larvae
Sarah spotted this nest in the low shrubs near Lake Cheston. The bird has woven a pendulous nest using the V of two twigs as the supporting rim. This is a classic vireo design. Most other songbird species build their nests on top of twigs, not hanging below.
Hanging nest -- the whole thing is a little smaller than a fist.
Sure enough, the mother turns out to be a white-eyed vireo.
White-eyed vireo on her nest. She has a yellow eyebrow stripe and a white iris.
At 6:30am it was already muggy. The thickness of the haze behind this indigo bunting is impressive.
Indigo bunting above Roark's Cove, TN
In the cove forest, the tree canopy is so thick that only a few flowers try to squeeze out their living from the meager light of the understory. Most of the spring wildflowers — Hepatica, Trillium, spring beauty — are dying away or setting seed. Violets and spiderworts buck the trend and are fresh and vital.
Canada violet -- grows ankle-high
Wideleaf spiderwort -- their stems grow two or three feet tall with a thumbnail-sized flower at the top
Several snails traversed the moist forest floor. This shell is of their enemy, the flesh-eating Haplotrema concavum snail. This species tracks down other snails by following their scent, then drags them away to eat.
Haplotrema concavum, the "gray-footed lancetooth." This species has a very wide, open coil on its underside.
Cuckoo invasion!
These birds are usually scarce, especially in town. But, for the last week or so their hollow cuk cuk cruu calls have rung all around. There are at least three of them around our house and garden, an area of less than an acre. Cuckoos tend to congregate where food is plentiful, then they quickly set up shop to breed. The young birds grow so fast that their immature pin feathers literally pop open as the feathers shoot out. Perhaps the tens of thousands of cicadas in the trees here have attracted several breeding pairs to our neighborhood.
Cuckoos winter in the Amazon rainforest, so the adults in our trees are some of the most well-traveled animals in Sewanee.
David George Haskell 