While hiking to Indian River Falls and back yesterday, I learned what a red breasted sapsucker nest sounds like. On the way up, I had heard what I thought might be young birds begging for food, but I could not seem to locate where the sound was coming from and after a couple of minutes trying, I continued on my way. On my way back from the falls, I heard the sound again and as I paused to look for it, I thought I saw a sapsucker flying to a large dead tree where the sound seemed to be coming from. At this point the sound became more strident for a moment. As I watched the tree, I saw a sapsucker land in a high branch, but I had not seen where it flew from. After a short pause, the bird flew off into the woods. I decided to lay down to wait and see if the bird came back to see if my hypothesis about there being a nest nearby was likely to be correct. I laid down along the trail where I had a good view of the tree to listen and wait.

While listening, I began to feel a little bit sorry for the sapsucker parents. Being a parent with young children, I know how frustrating it can be when children will not stop crying. These young birds sounded like a wheel in desperate need of grease constantly spinning. There was never a pause in their loud squeaking. After a few minutes, I saw an adult bird return and disappear into a barely visible hole high up on the trunk. The same change in sound occurred as the young birds presumably got excited when food arrived. It only took a few seconds and the adult was off again.

While hiking back, I listened for the calls of the young sapsuckers and heard them at least four or five different times along the trail. It seems that there are quite a few nests in the area.

I hiked from Harbor Mountain over to Gavan Hill and down Gavan Hill Trail to town last Monday and noticed many flowers in bloom along the way. Here is a list of the different ones I saw (most of which I was fairly confident about identifying).

• Ground dogwood (Cornus canadensis)
• Stream violet (Viola glabella)
• Clasping Twistedstalk (Streptopus amplexifolius)
• Rosy Twistedstalk (S. roseus)
• Salmonberry (Rubus spectabilis)
• White Mountain Heather (Cassiope mertensiana)
• Alaska Mountain Heather (C. stelleriana)
• Deer Cabbage (Fauria crista-galli)
• Caltha-leaved Aven (Geum calthifolium)
• Blueberries (Vaccinium spp.)
• Narcissus Anemone (Anemone narcissiflora)
• Tall Mountain Shootingstar (Dodecatheon jeffreyi)
• Sitka Valerian (Valeriana sitchensis)
• Lupine (Lupinus sp.)
• Unidentified aster family
• Northern Geranium (Gerianium erianthum)
• False Azalea (Menziesia ferruginea)
• Alaska Saxifrage (Saxifraga ferruginea)
• Bittercress
• Foam flower (Tiarella trifoliata)
• Hornemann’s Willowherb (Epilobium hornemannii)
• Siberian Miner’s Lettuce (Claytonia sibirica)
• Chocolate Lily (Fritillaria camschatcensis)
• Unalaska Paintbrush (Castilleja unalaschcensis)
• Trailing Raspberry (Rubus pedatus)
• Red Paintbrush (Castilleja sp.)
• Alaska Violet (Viola langsdorfii)
• Wedge-leaf Primrose (Primula cuniefolia ssp. saxifragifolia)
• Alpine Azalea (Loiseleuria procumbens)
• Fern-leaved Goldthread (Coptis asplenifolia)
• Single Delight (Moneses uniflora)
• Deerheart (Maianthemum dilatatum)
• Red Elderberry (Sambucus racemosa ssp. pubens)
• Labrador Tea (Ledum groenlandicum)
• Western Bog Laurel (Kalmia microphylla)
• Northern Star Flower (Trientalis arctica)
• Cloudberry (Rubus chamaemorus)
• Pacific Crabapple (Malus fusca)
• Western Mountain Ash (Sorbus scopulina)

There were at least two different species of blueberry, and probably more. In addition, some western columbine (Aquilegia formosa) had large buds out, but they were not yet open.

Last Sunday I was on my way to the beach when I got distracted by the sound of some birds that turned out to be winter wrens. There were at least two birds, but one in particular was quite active chipping and occasionally singing the distinctive winter wren song. As I sat watching and listening, I heard some rustling coming from the salmonberry bushes to my left. The noises got closer and before long, what appeared to be a young winter wren came into view. While the adults seemed to flit noiselessly through the most tangled of thickets, this young bird could not seem to avoid running into branches and leaves even in the relatively loose bushes through which it was traveling. It came to within five feet of me when it suddenly seemed to realize that there was something out there that it should probably be concerned about, that is, me. It came to a sudden and somewhat graceless stop, resting heavily on the forked branches of a salmonberry. It sat and stared in my direction for quite some time before it retreated back into the bushes from whence it came chipping as it went.

As all this was going on with the young bird, the adult winter wren continued its chipping and singing. It seemed to me to be trying to communicate with the young bird, although I am not sure what it was trying to say. Perhaps it was encouraging the bird to practice flying. Some minutes after the young bird had disappeared, the adult started to move about. It flew some distance away, although it continued the chipping and singing. Before too long, the adult bird was back fairly close to me and it carried some stuff in its mouth. It perched on the branches of a tree that had been cut down and began chipping insistently. Soon, it received a weaker reply coming from the bushes. It flew into the bushes where it remained for a couple of seconds and then flew back out. When it came back out it still have stuff in its beak, but not as much. This was repeated a couple of times before the adult had nothing left in its beak. The adult flew back to the large tree where I had first noticed it and started chipping and singing again. At this point, I guessed that maybe there was a nest down in the bushes where the adult had gone. Figuring that the young bird would need to eat again soon, I decided to do my best to quietly slip into the bushes and wait for the next feeding in a place where I could see what was going on.

I had seen roughly where the adult had gone to deliver the food, so I got down on my stomach and wormed my way to where I had a relatively good view of that location. I had been waiting there trying to be quiet and still for quite some time when the young bird started chipping. I looked and was able to see the bird through the branches. It did seem to be aware of me and a little uncomfortable about my presence, but not so much so that it flew away. Sometime after it started chipping, the adult flew back. I was hoping that it would come down to feed the young bird again, but this time it flew around calling to the little bird and after a brief conversation, the little bird flew off with the adult. Perhaps the adult was not happy with my presence and decided that it was time to move on.

In the day since my observations of the winter wrens, I have heard the chipping and singing. I am guessing that this is the sound of the adult teaching the young bird the ways of winter wrens. Soon it will probably be on its own.

Went for a short walk to the beach today. The villous cinquefoil were still blooming in great numbers, although it looks like it will be a few more days (or possibly a week or so) before the black lilies are at the height of their blooming. One the way back, I noticed that the single delights are blooming at the edge of the woods. It will probably be a few more days before the ones back where it is less bright are blooming.