The secret to my birding success

Red-breasted Nuthatch, Hagg Lake, Washington Co., Oregon on 17 December, 2010 by Greg Gillson.

 

The photos in my blog postings in recent weeks were all from one 10-minute photo session in mid-December.

The Ruby-crowned Kinglets and Hutton's Vireo in ID: Little green bird: Kinglet or Vireo? and Wing-flicking: Ruby-crowned Kinglet, the Hermit Thrush in Hermit Thrush in Winter and The old hermit that lives in the woods, and the Red-breasted Nuthatch above were all photographed together at the same time.

Would it surprise you that these were just the tip of the iceberg as to the birds present? Would it surprise you that they appeared at my bidding--that I didn't just luck into this active flock? In fact, I was unaware that these birds were there at all. I'll tell you about it in a moment.

What is the secret to my birding success? It is more important than having the best birding optics. It doesn't matter what you wear or even where or when you go birding. It is simply the most-effective birding fieldcraft technique for seeing birds at close range--by getting them to come to you:

Pishing.

Pishing is the art of making of hissing, squeaking, kissing, whistling, and chattering sounds to attract birds. In many ways pishing appears to mimic the scold notes of a flock of chickadees, causing other birds to investigate.

Pishing may be a funny word, but it has its own Wiki page. If you think the word itself is funny, think how you'll feel getting "caught" doing this in your local birding patch!

After too many posts on this subject on the Oregon bird discussion list, OBOL, in early December, Mike Patterson wrote a nice blog post on pishing. It included a recording of some of his repertoire of sounds.

Birding author Pete Dunne actually wrote a book called "The Art of Pishing."

On December 11, 2010 David Fix posted interesting comments on pishing to the OBOL (Oregon Birders OnLine) list. He calls it "spishing" so it sounds less like a certain vulgar word.

Some of his observations:

Spish LOUDLY. This teensy, soft, underbreath stuff some birders do isn't even worth it. Make a real racket, a huge fuss. The point is to make a bizarre sonic scene that no small bird will want to miss out on.

VARY the sounds: make all sorts of creative, squeaky, kissy, upslurred and downslurred sounds.

Intersperse half-minute bouts of Pygmy-Owl tooting.

Birds have one of three reactions to pishing: they come close, they do nothing, or they flee. Usually they come excitedly to investigate.

I've noted, too, that various sounds have different effects on different birds. While most sparrows are highly attracted to pishing, high-pitched "seee" hisses will scare them away (it sounds like the alarm call of Song Sparrow, I think). However, the same loud-as-possible hiss will pull Golden-crowned Kinglets out of the crown of the tree right down into your face.

And the same pishing that works in winter may scare some birds during the nesting season.

Next lower in pitch is a gentle "shhh..." sound similar to chickadee calls. A lower harsh chatter may be like some notes of wrens. Imitating the "tchut" of Common Yellowthroat or the husky "chep" of Fox Sparrow will bring them out when "normal" pishing seems ineffective.

The pygmy-owl whistles are especially effective on forest birds. A pygmy-owl imitation will stop a flock of Red Crossbills in their tracks as they fly over the forest, though they usually remain in the tree tops. I actually tend to use a similar Gray Jay whistle imitation, which is about like the pygmy-owl but more quickly-paced and downslurred. Often a real owl or jay comes in to liven up the party.

And keep it up. Sometimes the most interesting birds are the last to respond. Five to 10 minutes is not too long to pish if new birds are still arriving.

Now for my story of the photo above and the past few posts...

This was at Hagg Lake on the foothills of the Coast Range in NW Oregon. I was at a location along the shore with some openings at the edge of the Douglas-fir and big leaf maple forest. There didn't appear to be many birds about on this cold winter day, but I saw a couple of silhouettes of Varied Thrushes moving in the trees and wanted to get a better look at them. So I started pishing.

Soon I was surrounded by about 15 each of Black-capped and Chestnut-backed Chickadees. A dozen Ruby-crowned (photo) and 20 Golden-crowned Kinglets mobbed me. A pair of Bewick's Wrens worked their way over to me. A Pacific Wren or two snuck up to me through the ferns. Several Red-breasted Nuthatches (photo) called from deep in the forest and flew close. A Hermit Thrush (photo) left the safety of the deep shadows and came out in the open to see me. And the Hutton's Vireo (photo) investigated me at close range for several minutes. A Yellow-rumped Warbler flitted about. A Sooty Fox Sparrow (photo) and a Spotted Towhee called from the blackberries, along with a pair of Song Sparrows and a dozen Dark-eyed Juncos flitted about on the ground.

All told, over 100 individual birds of 14 species responded to my pishing! They came very close, and stayed close, out in the open where I could photograph them.

Remember, this isn't a weird one-time event. This is how birding is every day for birders who know how to pish. This is the secret to my birding success.

Oh, and the Varied Thrushes that started it all? I never saw them again.

In the backyard... Red-breasted Nuthatch

Red-breasted Nuthatch, Tillamook, Oregon on 16 January 2009 by Greg Gillson.

 

This tiny bird is a backyard favorite where it occurs in the Pacific Northwest. It breeds in northern and montane forests, from coast-to-coast across southern Canada, from coastal Alaska to northern California, in the Rocky Mountains south to Arizona and New Mexico, and in the Appalachians to Tennessee. In the winter it can irrupt southward, irregularly visiting backyards in any of the contiguous states in the United States, but very rarely as far south as Mexico.

Exactly what is an irruption, and why do birds do this? John K. Terres, in his 1980 book, The Audubon Society Encyclopedia of North American Birds describes an irruption in this way. He says an irruption is "an irregular migration... often a spectacular mass movement southward in fall and winter of birds that normally live year-round in parts of Alaska and Canada." Red-breasted Nuthatches may do this periodically when their populations are high and their food sources become scarce.

The seeds of pine and spruce cones are a large component of this bird's diet in the winter. They supplement this with insects they glean from the bark as they actively forage over the trunk and limbs, often crawling upside down! Most of the summer food is composed of insects. Thus, the range of this species is restricted to conifers. So, these birds are missing from extensive grasslands in the Pacific northwest and sage lands of the Great Basin. However, they are found in towns throughout these regions where a few conifers have been planted. Their food preference means they are found from sea level shore pines to the alpine fir of treeline on the highest mountains.

If there are conifers in your neighborhood then this little bird will probably find your feeder. They often come to the feeder to take one sunflower seed at a time and fly away with it to a tree branch. They lack the side-to-side chewing ability of the bills of sparrows and finches. Instead, they hold the seed between their feet and pound it open with blows from their sharp bill. They are also attracted to peanut butter and suet cakes.

The larger White-breasted Nuthatch generally prefers deciduous trees. In the ponderosa pine forests of the West, the smaller Pygmy Nuthatch is found. While they all behave the same, and have blue-gray backs and very short tails, neither of these other nuthatches have the rusty breast and white eyebrow. When you see the distinctive coloring and unique behavior of the Red-breasted Nuthatch you will know it!