For the last few weeks, I’ve enjoyed watching the eagles and loons annoy each other. The loons apparently had a good summer, as there are dozens of them on the lake in front of my house. Every time an eagle flies over, all the loons start wailing. Their warning cries come from all corners of the lake.
I imagine the eagles are getting frustrated. They have little hope of defeating this early warning system. Gulls and cormorants also gather on my lake, and they benefit just as much from the loons’ eerie alerts. It’s nearly impossible for an eagle to sneak up on anything with feathers at this time of year.
Some land-based birds are equally good at calling out danger. I’d say black-capped chickadees are the true all-stars. They are so good at spotting trouble, other species pay attention to their calls and deliberately forage with them. Small flocks of chickadees have been moving through the yard regularly for the last month, and they usually have company. Nuthatches and titmice also issue predator alerts.
Golden-crowned kinglets aren’t as dependent on warnings as the other birds in the flock, but they often keep company with them anyway. Ruby-crowned kinglets don’t seem to be quite as social, despite being similar in size and behavior as the others. They’re also moving through our area now.
Blue jays are ever watchful. They regularly flock together and call out danger when they see it. They have little choice. They’re otherwise very easy to catch, being slow and so colorful that they are bad at hiding.
Despite their precautions, blue jays frequently become victims of predators. It’s not uncommon to see small piles of blue jay feathers on the ground at this time of year, especially with so many raptors migrating through.
Blue jays have other reasons to be noisy. They often imitate hawk calls, possibly to scare other birds away from food sources. One blue jay living near my house has been doing a perfect red-shouldered hawk call for the last month.
Blue jays also inspire warning calls from other birds seeking to defend their nests and young. Red-eyed vireos particularly hate jays, and they do a nasal “zhreee” call to express their antipathy whenever jays come around. Several weeks ago, when I stopped hearing their “zhrees” in the canopy, I knew my red-eyed vireos had begun their southward migration.
Warning calls account for only some of the backyard bird noise in autumn. Species that flock together chatter a lot, so they can keep track of each other and stay organized.
About the time the last warbler departs our state, the first wave of sparrows begins to move through. A mixed group of white-throated sparrows and dark-eyed juncos has been working my neighborhood, moving together from yard to yard.
The juncos are especially vocal, often singing a light trill as they move. If they perceive a threat, they make a smacking sound as a warning.
The white-throated sparrows are quieter. In October, I expect nothing more out of them than a quiet “seet,” usually from cover along the edge of the yard. But this time of year, I hear it a lot.
Other birds that form big flocks also make a lot of noise. American pipits typically move through in mid-October, foraging in agricultural fields and along mudflats. When flying, their “pipit” calls are unmistakable.
Peak foliage is when I expect the first snow buntings to show up. They are chirpy in flight and produce an unusually musical trill on the wing. Blueberry fields are a favorite place to find them, but I’m surprised how often they turn up on logging roads.
And finches. I’ve often spoken about how noisy finches are. They are among the flockiest birds on the planet, and they keep the flock together by calling while flying. I don’t have to find them. They’re always announcing where they are. Cedar and Bohemian waxwings also flock, vocally keeping the gang together.
In spring, birds sing constantly, establishing territories and attracting mates. In autumn, breeding season is over, but birds remain noisy in an entirely different way. Whether signaling warnings or merely organizing socially, they’re making noise. It’s quieter in autumn, easily overlooked. But it’s there, for anyone paying attention.
There are exceptions, of course. Some birds are still declaring territories. For instance, last night a barred owl perched above my garage at 3:00 in the morning and called incessantly. That’s 15 minutes of sleep I’ll never get back.