An unfamiliar chattering, a series of whistles, trills, and rattling, along with distinctive loud “wheet” call notes, meant migrating visitors in my yard. This cacophony certainly wasn’t the usual avian symphony. Since the migrants were flitting through the treetops, it was hard to get a good look, but persistence paid off: Finally I obtained a quick glimpse of the neon yellow, black-throated male–a Hooded Oriole, Icterus cucullatus. Later I spotted the luminous bird hundreds of feet away, high up in the trees across the street.
The next morning, I was sound asleep when the sounds of chattering orioles filtered through the window. Like a mother awakened by her infant’s cries, I sat bolt upright, fully alert in seconds. Then I ran out to the balcony overlooking the treetops to see if I could get another look at the visitors.
There was the golden male, along with a considerably smaller greenish female. I watched her feed a begging fledgling of similar appearance. The birds called endlessly, keeping track of each other; likely, the three birds were traveling together. Later that day, the trio moved on, continuing their southward migration.
In California, the range of the Hooded Oriole has extended northward, following the artificial expansion of nesting habitat–the use of palms in landscaping. The birds suspend their nests, woven of coarse fibers and grasses, from the underside of palm fronds and line the nests with fine materials.
Out there shivering on the balcony, surveying the yard in 6:30 AM chill, I realized that I had been missing the action. The local American Robin, Bewick’s Wren, Brown Towhees, House Finches, and Chestnut-backed Chickadees were out and about eating breakfast. Across the street, several large crows marched across my neighbor’s lawn, and a hummingbird visited each of the flowers remaining on our pomegranate tree. The prime-time show was on.
View image by photographer Stuart Nafey:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/unklstuart/3487691736/in/photostream/
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