Autumn migration is in full swing! Year in and year out, a most dependable visitor to my gardens during both spring and autumn migrations are the eponymous Yellow Warbler, Setophaga petechia. Flitty, flighty birds, these little darlings are a treat to see. I nearly always have birds of both genders stop in for a time; sometime they come as couples, often, they visit separately.
A female Yellow Warbler bopped around the Rough-leaf Dogwood, Cornus drummondii, growing near the pond. I planted this small native tree in this particular spot to give both resident and migratory birds a quick hiding place up and away from the pond. It also offers creamy fall fruits for noshing, if that’s on a bird’s menu.
Ms. Yellow used the foliage wisely, cautiously peeking out before her forays to the pond.
There are plenty of spots for tired, hot, thirsty birds to settle in for a drink and a fluttery bath.
Later, her mate, or maybe a random Yellow dude on the same travel path, came by to check out the water feature.
In the avian world, the male birds are nearly always brighter and more colorful than their female partners. The Yellow Warbler male also rocks rusty streaking on its chest which the females lack.
The Yellow Warblers are heading to Central America and parts of South America, along with millions of other birds. They have treacherous travels ahead before they land in their wintering quarters. My garden, especially the pond, provides safety and respite for the stalwart wanderers and the maintenance of a wildlife habitat is a responsibility I’ve wholeheartedly accepted. Wildlife-friendly gardens are necessary in a world where buildings, roads, sterile lawns, and all manner of urbanization has damaged and reduced the natural world.
Migration season has arrived and the first bird that I’ve identified as a non-resident and stranger to these parts is this handsome Eastern Kingbird, Tyrannus tyrannus. According to Cornell Lab of Ornithology’s map, my area here in Austin, Texas is on the edge of its breeding range, but I’ve never seen an Eastern Kingbird before, though Western Kingbirds are fairly common.
This visitor perched in the Red Oak tree near my pond, fluttering occasionally over the pond itself, presumably snacking on insects. A flycatcher, Eastern Kingbirds eat insects, hunting them on the wing. They also enjoy small reptiles and fruit, especially in their wintering grounds in South America.
King then spent time in the smaller Roughleaf Dogwood tree, Cornus drummondii, which is full of ripe berries for the munching. I didn’t see the bird eat any fruit, but Kingbirds routinely nosh on fall and winter fruits, and that is exactly why I planted a couple of these hardy and attractive small trees: spring flowers for the pollinators, fruits in late summer/fall for the birds.
Cornell’s Kingbird information mentions a red crest that these territorial and aggressive birds flash as a challenge to a predator. This one didn’t exhibit any red that I saw, though it clearly has a defined crest. I’m guessing this is a female or juvenile male bird. As adorable as it looks, these birds are bullies! They have no problem going after bigger birds like hawks and crows, and are aggressive with other birds and small mammals. Apparently, this bird is appropriately named in both its common name (Kingbird) and its scientific name (Tyrannus tyrannus). The good folks at Cornell remind us that the term Tyrannus means “tyrant, despot, or king.”
The Hub and I are planning a wildlife/birding trip to Costa Rica in the not-too-distant future and in a phone call with the guide that we’ve hired for the trip, I mentioned that an Eastern Kingbird had visited my garden. He commented that Kingbirds were “good-looking birds” (I agree!) and mentioned that in Costa Rica, they travel in in big flocks. I wonder if this bird will be in Costa Rica at the same time we visit–maybe we can exchange travel stories!
The King looks cute-n-goofy in these photos, but it was hot outside, thus the open beak.
A resident Blue Jay popped into the scene, but kept its distance from Royal Highness.
Kingbird perched in the Dogwood, above the lowly Jay, no doubt lording over its temporary territory. The Blue Jay stayed near the bog area of the pond, just hanging out, being a Jay.
Bird migratory season has arrived. I don’t see either the variety or numbers of birds in fall migration as during spring migration, but it’s time to keep a keen eye on the pond and gardens for more than the usual suspects. It’s time to observe and appreciate their beauty and contributions to diverse ecosystems. My garden will serve as a respite for shelter, food, and water for these remarkable creatures during their long, arduous travels.
Huzzah and Cheers all around! Yesterday, clouds gathered, rain fell on a thirsty Earth, and the temperature (at least in North Austin) didn’t pass the century mark! It’s amazing how life looks better with touch of the cool. (Note: it wasn’t really cool, it simply wasn’t oven-like.) I pay no attention to the weather folk this time of year (the ‘hot and dry!’ monotony reigns in weather reports!) so I didn’t know there was a chance of precipitation and would have been skeptical if I’d heard about it before hand. Even with the lovely few hours break from the heat and glaring sun, I’m under no illusion that autumn is just around the corner or that our toasty days are done. The 45 day streak of triple digit temperatures may be over, but a new one starts today; there is a heat advisory in place today and for those following. But the days are noticeably shorter, early mornings offer sweetness that was absent for July and most of August, and it is clear that the weather pattern is progressing toward a different, gentler paradigm.
The garden was happy this morning: foliage was fresh, flowers were fully open, bees were a’buzzing. The damage from this historically hot summer is clear though, with plenty of crinkly, brown foliage and yellow-to-pale leaves, bleached so by the relentless rays of the sun. No matter the second spring that we enjoy in September, October, and November, the garden will finish this season bearing scars from summer’s searing heat and devastating drought.
The following photos were taken in the past few weeks, the post planned during that time but not finished until today.
Mexican Orchid tree, Bauhinia mexicana, flowers with cool white blooms, with a blush of pink. Annual sunflowers, which have since been removed, accompany the little tree.
I grow two of the native-to-Mexico plants, the first photo is in full sun, this second photo in mostly shade. Larger butterflies, hummingbirds, and bees of all sorts love these graceful flowers.
Turk’s Cap, Malvaviscus arboreus, are great summer bloomers, producing rich, hot-red hibiscus-like flowers. I’ve noticed there are fewer of these diminutive blooms this summer, but still enough for interested pollinators.
The wowzer blooms of Pride of Barbados, Caesalpinia pulcherrima, thrive in the heat and take what our difficult summers dish out. I wish I had room for another of these beauties.
Native Rock Rose, Pavonia lasiopetala, blooms from May to October. The cheery little mallows flower on new wood, so pruning during the course of the growing season assures plenty of pretty pinks.
Barbie-pink blooms open before sunrise, but close in early afternoon when it’s hot. As we move into autumn, the flowers will stay open all day. I’m looking forward to that!
Another native Mexican plant, Mexican Honeysuckle, Justicia spicigera, shines orange in the heat. That being said, this is the first year I’ve seen wilting of the foliage in between sparse irrigation.
Clusters of bright, tubular flowers attract many pollinators, including hummingbirds, native bees and honeybees, and many types of butterflies.
Female Black-chinned hummingbirdAmerican BumblebeeI like how the bumble’s left leg helps her balance on the leaf as she’s proboscis-deep in the bloom.
Desert Willow, Chilopsis linearis, is another spring, summer, fall bloomer. This summer’s heat seemed to challenge the tree to bloom more than usual–and the tree met that challenge. The flowers are hard for me to photograph, as they tend to be high up in the tree and there’s often a healthy breeze; I have a tough time getting a good shot of a pollinator enjoying the flower’s bounty. The foliage has also weathered the heat well; it’s green, lush and a good place for birds to hide.
Fortunately, some pretty blooms grow closer to the gardener’s lens.
Not all plants have fared well in summer’s heat. Purple Coneflowers, Echinacea purpurea, are gorgeous in spring, but become crispy critters as summer drones on. I see finches occasionally nibbling on the seeds, so I leave the plants until I no longer see birds alighting on spent blooms or until I can’t stand looking at them anymore–whichever is first. The Coneflowers will return a muted bloom cycle if/when the autumn rains come. And next spring, they’ll be stars of the spring garden once again.
Summer–its heat and blasting sun–has a firm grip and won’t let go for a while.
But I see and feel a shift.
With yesterday’s dab of rain and glory of dramatic, dark clouds which blanketed the sun for a time, plus today’s rejuvenated garden (however long it lasts!), I’m reminded and reassured that cycles repeat, that there is a universal turning of time in partnership with seasons, allowing for transformation of a garden and the larger world beyond.
My Gardener Says... 