When wild turkeys started showing up in my yard last spring, it was difficult to get any photos. If they saw my slightest movement inside the house they would usually make a hasty exit.

With time, they began to tolerate my presence, and I would see them stretching their wings, flaring their tails, chasing each other and, especially when it was hot and humid, lying in the shade or the dusty driveway for a bit. But, if I reached for the camera to get some photos, they would stop and extend their necks and look all around before returning to foraging.

In the last few weeks, though, I've finally managed to get photos of them doing something other than browsing:

Wild turkey lying near the edge of the woods, September 9, 2023 [Photo: Cathie Bird]

Wild turkey on the gravel at the edge of the yard, September 9, 2023. [Photo: Cathie Bird]

A wild turkey stretches its wings and flares its tail, September 28, 2023. [Photo: Cathie Bird]

A wild turkey scratches up some gravel and flares its tail feathers, September 28, 2023. [Photo: Cathie Bird]

My last post on June 6th focused on a visit from a Mama Turkey and four babies. That same day, a short time after I saw the turkeys, I saw a rat snake crawling out of the grass and disappearing under the porch. A couple of minutes later, I saw what I think was one of the water snake species that live around here. Three days later I had this experience:

I took a break to gather and load trash around the planter garden. I used my cane handle to lift part of a broken bird bath so I could pick it up and bag it, and came face to face with a copperhead. She kind of came up out of the leaves underneath the bowl, twisted around a bit, moved away from me then turned her head back toward me. For a moment she was looking right at me – seemingly right into my eyes – with her mouth open, and hissing a bit. Then she crawled off.

After another week or so, I came home from town and found what looked like the same snake lounging on top of some bags of garden soil. Since then I've seen her often in that same spot.

Yesterday I saw her again and took a photo, noting some odd shaped bulges, and guessing that she had caught some food recently. As I got ready to share the photo later in the day, I decided to look outside the window to see if she was still there. There was indeed a snake on the soil bags. Since the light was a little better, I took some more photos.

When I uploaded them to edit, I couldn't believe what I saw:

Two copperheads curled up together near my planter garden. July 9, 2023 [Photo: Cathie Bird]

An unexpected gift from Mother Nature.

If you want to know more about copperheads, check out this great Northern Copperhead page at Smithsonian's National Zoo & Conservation Biology Institute

I suspected that one of the turkey hens I'd been seeing in the holler was nesting close by. Today she brought four little ones into the yard to forage:

[Photo: Cathie Bird, June 6, 2023]

[Photo: Cathie Bird, June 6, 2023]

Photo: Cathie Bird, June 6, 2023]

[Photo: Cathie Bird, June 6, 2023]

I thought I heard a scarlet tanager call when I was outside yesterday -- today, no question, they're back!

Scarlet tanager male on May 19, 2023. [Photo: Cathie Bird]

Last week the holler had a string of freezing nights. Now it's warm again and it looks like most of the plants that were up survived the chill and have buds or open flowers:

Trout lily colony, March 24, 2023. [Photo: Cathie Bird]

Sharp-lobed hepatica on March 24, 2023. [Photo: Cathie Bird]

Trillium grandiflorum on March 24, 2023. [Photo: Cathie Bird]

Rue anemone on March 24, 2023  [Photo: Cathie Bird]

I've been waiting almost 23 years for this shot:

Wild turkey hen (Meleagris gallopavo), March 11, 2023.  [Photo: Cathie Bird]

In all the years I've lived in the holler, I have never seen a robin in the yard around my house. At the moment I took this photo, there were four of them foraging together outside my window, eating seeds I scatter for ground feeding birds.

American Robin (Turdis migratorius) on March 1, 2023. [Photo: Cathie Bird]

Last summer, two raccoons -- a mama and her baby -- started showing up around my bird feeders. The young one is now around 9-10 months old and comes by itself. The mama still comes by as well.

Last week she came by earlier than usual and climbed into a hanging platform feeder.

Adult raccoon. February 18, 2023 [Photo: Cathie Bird]

Not long after she settled into the basket, a titmouse came along. This little titmouse, not much bigger than mama raccoon's hind foot, hopped and flew all around the raccoon until she finally left and the titmouse could get a seed.

Tufted titmouse eyes an adult raccoon from below. February 18, 2023. [Photo: Cathie Bird]

A couple of days later, the young raccoon came by for some nuts. This one doesn't stress the feeder hanger so much. In the photo you can see some colored wire cable key rings that I had to install after the heavier adult broke it several times. They are holding up really well so far. I'm sure the feeder engineers did not anticipate that larger creatures would be using their invention.

The younger raccoon that visits. February 18, 2023 [Photo: Cathie Bird]

OTHER SIGHTINGS IN THE HOLLER THIS WEEK:

Two carpenter bees, four eastern gray squirrels, and couple of eastern chipmunks. Farther down the holler today, I founded the first cut-leaf toothwort and a whole bunch of trout lilies popping up through the decaying leaf litter.

Last year I decided to include a mealworm and dried fruit mix at my platform feeders, hoping that those items (as well as suet) might attract warblers. Today I saw the first yellow-rumped warbler since November 2022. He has been hanging out near the house much of the day, visiting the suet log and platform feeders several times.

Yellow-rumped warbler at the basket feeder, February 10, 2023. [Photo: Cathie Bird]

Yesterday a coyote -- the same one I'm pretty sure I've seen in the yard before -- came back. Though it remains wary, I was able to get some good photos from my bird-watching window:

Coyote (Canis latrans), September 8, 2022  [Photo: Cathie Bird]

At one point, it made eye contact, just as it had on May 25th when I got my first photo of it. This time, however, the coyote was out in the open:

Coyote visit, September 8, 2022  [Photo: Cathie Bird]

By this time I was moving around quite a bit to get the photos, and the coyote started to move off toward the fence where I'd seen it enter and leave the yard during previous encounters. I scooted my chair closer to the window so that the field of view in the lens wouldn't catch the window frame. When I pointed the camera back out the window, I saw a second coyote resting in the shade along the fence line:

Coyote #2, September 8, 2022  [Photo: Cathie Bird]

I think it's likely that birds foraging on seed I put out for ground feeders drew the coyotes closer to the house -- in the absence of birds, I've seen the coyote eating some of the seeds. While these two were here yesterday, a small troop of tufted titmice -- joined occasionally by a blue jay, Carolina wren and northern cardinal -- streamed a constant barrage of alarm calls.

I've been aware of coyotes in the holler since I moved here more than twenty years ago. Once I rescued my first dog in 2003, I stopped seeing them close to the house, though I could hear them occasionally. In early June this year, however, the last of five domestic animals I'd rescued over the years -- a very watchful and vocal border collie -- passed away. Since then I've seen these two coyotes, a couple of raccoons, a black bear, and a return of white-tailed deer tracks (if not the deer themselves, yet) at my end of the holler.

On May 11th this year, Merlin identified one of the birds singing near my house as a Tennessee warbler. I tried to locate it but, as often happens by that time of the year in the holler's woods, I couldn't see the bird for the leaves. Even though it's named for the state I live in, these warblers don't spend much time in Tennessee, so I felt fortunate to at least have caught one's song, my first ever.

Yesterday, I watched a couple of American goldfinches hunting for bugs on a giant ragweed plant not too far from my birding window. When they flew off, another bird landed on the plant. At first I thought it was another goldfinch but the size, color and feather patterns didn't quite fit. With field glasses I clearly saw a thin, pointy bill and obvious lack of white on this bird's wings. I quickly traded the binoculars for a camera and managed to get several photos as the bird moved up and down the plant, gleaning the stems and flowers.

Tennessee warbler (Leiothlypis peregrina), September 1, 2022  [Photo: Cathie Bird]

Since I couldn't immediately identify the species, the photos gave me a chance to gather more field marks and narrow the choices. Before long, I'd settled on Tennessee warbler as the closest match, and then used Birds of the World, Merlin and other online resources to sort through similar species with all of their seasonal variations. I concluded that it was, indeed, my first visual experience of a Tennessee warbler in action.

Tennessee warbler (Leiothlypis peregrina) gleaning giant ragweed (Ambrosia trifida), September 1, 2022  [Photo: Cathie Bird]

Once I had an identification, and just for the heck of it, I decided to check out the BirdCast site to see who'd been flying over the holler that past evening. The estimate for Campbell County, Tennessee was 1,240,400. Though Tennessee warblers did not show up in the species list, it gave me goosebumps to think about that many winged beings flying by while I was sleeping.

Earlier this year a pair of cardinals courted here in the holler. On April 18th, I managed to get a photo of them in a courtship feeding display:

A male Northern cardinal feeds his mate a seed, April 18, 2022 [Photo: Cathie Bird]

Around the 15th of July, I saw my first juvenile cardinal, one that I thought was possibly a female. On July 18th, I saw another juvenile that had more red feathers in its plumage. They showed up together on one of their visits so I was able to verify there were at least two different young ones stopping by.

The dad often came with them, either foraging with them or singing from a tree branch nearby. The first week of August, I started seeing the mom more often when she came to forage. The photos below are the best of many I got of all the family members that week:

Northern cardinal (Cardinalis cardinalis) adult female, August 3, 2022 [Photo: Cathie Bird]

Northern cardinal (Cardinalis cardinalis) adult male, August 4, 2022 [Photo: Cathie Bird]

Northern cardinal (Cardinalis cardinalis) juvenile, possibly a female, August 3, 2022 [Photo: Cathie Bird]

Northern cardinal (Cardinalis cardinalis) juvenile, possibly a male, August 2, 2022 [Photo: Cathie Bird]

All of them still come around, but more commonly I'm seeing each of them by themselves. I try to get photos when I can to track any changes in the juvenile plumages. The dark bills characteristic of the young cardinals, for example, are showing a little more orange now.

The first indigo bunting that I saw in the holler this year was a female that landed on some old milkweed stems in my planter garden.

Indigo bunting (Passerina cyanea) female, April 26, 2022  [Photo: Cathie Bird]

A few days later, I started seeing a male. He came back almost everyday in late afternoon, but I never caught sight of another female.

Indigo bunting (Passerina cyanea) male, April 30, 2022  [Photo: Cathie Bird]

Adult indigo bunting (male) with a seed he found. June 26, 2022  [Photo: Cathie Bird]

On June 29th, I thought I spotted another adult female. A short time later, a male indigo bunting joined this bird and they foraged in the grass together. After a few minutes observing them, I noticed that the first bird was just kind of following the male around, occasionally opening its bill wide. When I got a good look through binoculars, it was clear that the bill I was seeing was that of a fledgling.

Adult indigo bunting dad introduces a fledgling to the planter garden and feeding areas of the yard, June 29, 2022  [Photo: Cathie Bird]

On that visit, the dad and his fledgling stayed in the taller grass at the edge of the yard. It was difficult to get a good photo.

Dad and fledgling return to forage on June 30, 2022.  [Photo: Cathie Bird]

The following day, however, the dad and fledgling returned and foraged in more open areas of the yard. I was able to get a photo of the fledgling getting a seed or two on its own as well as taking food offered by the parent.

Indigo fledgling finds some seeds on its own, June 30, 2022  [Photo: Cathie Bird]

The parent and fledgling continued to forage together every day for awhile. The young bird would often get here first, and some days -- for example, on July 4th -- it came several times without the parent.

Fledgling on the 4th of July, foraging on its own.  [Photo: Cathie Bird]

The fledgling on a white oak branch, July 4, 2022.  [Photo: Cathie Bird]

I haven't seen the younger bird now for several days, but an adult male indigo bunting has been here several times, usually early morning and late afternoon. This year was the first time I'd seen and identified an indigo bunting fledgling. I'm still hearing indigo songs out in the woods near the house and down in the flatter parts of the holler and my neighbors' fields.

A little more than a year ago I saw my first Louisiana waterthrush. It was grooming its feathers on a branch, easily identifiable with binoculars and almost beyond reach of the camera lens I was using at the time. I felt lucky to get any kind of usable image.

Louisiana waterthrush (Parkesia motacilla) on June 11, 2021. [Photo: Cathie Bird]

After my first sighting, I looked this species up at Birds of the World -- something I like to do for any bird I find in the holler -- to predict what my chances of seeing more of them might be.

Pretty much centered in the breeding range for Louisiana waterthrushes, the holler's natural features match a majority of those where these birds more frequently breed. It's hilly with closed-canopy mixed deciduous and evergreen forest, and has two high to medium gradient headwater streams running through it. Neither stream could be classified "perennial" but, in most years I've lived here, they'd have had plenty of water flowing during the waterthrush's peak breeding season. Not an exact match, but I thought I had a good chance of seeing them again.

Louisiana waterthrush, June 28, 2022. [Photo: Cathie Bird]

Just a few days ago, I caught sight of one searching at the edge of the woods beyond my driveway and hanging around my planter garden, hunting and catching insects.

Louisiana waterthrush with an insect it caught, June 28, 2022. [Photo: Cathie Bird]

Prior to this sighting, my Merlin app had suggested one might be around but I was unable to match my recording to any of the typical songs/calls. I've now seen and heard its calls every day since I saw it on June 28th. It's interesting to me that its appearance near the house coincided with a stretch of really dry weather during which the flow of both streams had slowed considerably, so I'm wondering if that's why it came in closer or if it was just branching out a bit.

Louisiana waterthrush near the planter garden yesterday, July 3, 2022. [Photo: Cathie Bird]

Good photos of this individual have been hard to get. It seemed shy at first and would scurry for cover if it saw me at my bird-watch window. Now that it's coming closer, my imaging difficulties relate more to its speedy foraging style -- lots of blurry pictures to weed out.

Such an interesting bird. Makes me happy to hear and see it around the holler.

Recently, I started bringing suet feeders into the house at night because they were being emptied, and probably not by birds. Most of the seed feeders had been showing signs of night raiders as well, but a few adjustments seemed to work to protect those feeders from take downs. Adjusting my timing for restocking ended excessive seed disappearance.

This past weekend, however, the holler went somewhat silent when Shadow, my best friend and watchdog, passed away. I wondered how long it would be until critters I knew were out there in the night holler would start to show up during the day.

Last night, one of those that I suspected as the primary suet-gorger (and feeder-wrecker) came while it was still light enough to get a photo:

Raccoon at the suet log, June 9, 2022 [Photo: Cathie Bird]

For now I'll probably bring the suet in earlier, but events like this always spark a reassessment of feeding birds and the wildlife that bird feeders may also attract. I'll also watch to see what other animals come closer to the house now. Before I got pets, white-tail deer and wild turkeys came through the yard -- maybe they will again. I've continued to add native flowers and fruit plantings, and reduce (or eliminate) any mowing and brush cutting in areas near the house unless it's for my own safety as I move around the yard. Sometime soon I want to do a post on what I see -- other than plants -- in my planter garden. I'll continue to share thoughts and photos on how I live as a human being and evolve my relationship with all the amazing creatures whose relatives lived around the holler before people did.

Today I saw a juvenile downy woodpecker with her mom at the suet feeder. Hairy woodpecker young have been flying around the holler since May 28th.

A recently fledged hairy woodpecker gets some suet from his dad, June 2, 2022. [Photo: Cathie Bird]

A young hairy woodpecker near the suet feeder, June 2, 2022. [Photo:Cathie Bird]

A juvenile downy woodpecker gets some suet from her mom, June 7, 2022. [Photo: Cathie Bird]

Juvenile female downy woodpecker, June 7, 2022. [Cathie Bird]

In the past few weeks I've observed courtship behavior in several bird species, including Carolina wrens, mourning doves, northern cardinals, chickadees and titmice. Yesterday a female cowbird showed up with one of two male cowbirds that have been around for a couple of days:

Before long, a second male came to the feeder and landed in between the female and the first male, who then flared his tail and spread his wings while the incoming male extended its body with bill pointed skyward. The female went on with feeding behind the tube:

For a minute or so the two males alternately ate seeds and postured with extended bodies and bills pointing up, as they are doing in this (kind of fuzzy) photo:

After awhile, the first male walked around the tray toward the female until his head was very close to hers:

A short time after this, the female flew off to a tree branch, with the first male following and the second male a few seconds behind him. I could see them all on a branch, both males continuing their posturing.

Today, two male cowbirds came early. Later, I saw the female and one of the males here together, feeding together at two different feeders and on the ground. I'm not sure everything is settled yet. The female is still moving away a short distance when the male comes closer -- but so far I've observed only one male pursuing her. This was the first time I'd seen multiple cowbird suitors around the same female at once.

[All photos by Cathie Bird, April 18, 2022]

Yesterday while getting in some porch time, I got this photo of a male downy woodpecker sitting on a white oak branch. I saw at least four more downys and one male hairy woodpecker while I was out there, and heard some of their calls. Earlier in the day -- on my way back from town -- I saw a female pileated woodpecker as I came up the driveway.

Downy woodpecker (male) on April 14, 2022.  [Photo: Cathie Bird]

Scarlet Tanager male (Piranga olivacea), April 13, 2022  [Photo: Cathie Bird]

Last year around this time, preparations for new fiber optic internet service in this area led to a significant removal of trees near power lines, and I've been concerned about how that has or will affect birds and other wildlife in the holler.

On a snowy day, not long after a lot of trees had been cut, a really puffed up yellow-bellied sapsucker visited the feeder area three times. He began his third visit clinging to a porch post for about 12 minutes, much of that time with his head tucked under his wing, while other birds flew in and out.

Yellow-bellied sapsucker and male downy woodpecker (at feeder), February 16, 2021 [Photo: Cathie Bird]

I wondered if one of those trees had been his. He eventually went to one of the suet feeders (as he had on earlier visits) and ate for awhile before flying off.

Yellow-bellied Sapsucker (Sphyrapicus varius), February 16, 2021. [Photo: Cathie Bird]

I watched for him over the next few weeks, hoping he'd done okay. Almost a month later, I saw him gleaning bark on a tree near my house. so, I'm watching who's here and who's not out there with greater awareness this year. After last year's chainsaw massacre, I'm especially happy to see so many woodpeckers.

The holler is home to several woodpecker species -- downy, hairy, red-bellied, pileated, yellow-bellied sapsucker, and northern flicker -- I've seen all of these, for sure -- and likely the red-headed woodpecker. I saw one only once, just after I moved here 22 years ago.

Female Downy Woodpecker (Picoides pubescens), January 28, 2022 [Photo: Cathie Bird]

Last summer the downy population seemed to explode right outside my window, with parents bringing a number of fledglings and introducing them to the suet and seed feeders. This winter I'm seeing two different females and at least one male pretty much daily.

Male Downy Woodpecker (Picoides pubescens), February 2, 2022 [Photo: Cathie Bird]

Just this week, I saw the first male hairy woodpecker at the feeders. The first day, he visited each of the suet feeders but was slow to actually land on one. After he failed to get much by stretching out toward the feeder from an adjacent clinging spot, he finally flew onto the suet ball feeder and stayed for awhile.

Male Hairy Woodpecker (Picoides vellosus), February 2, 2022 [Photo: Cathie Bird]

He's been back several times and has gotten better at jumping right on them. He seems to prefer the suet log. I've seen a female hairy woodpecker this winter as well. Last year I only saw hairy females until summer when one brought at least one fledgling of each sex to use the feeders.

Last year when a red-bellied woodpecker started visiting the feeders, she first ate seeds on the ground -- alongside American goldfinches, mourning doves and sparrows -- before she tried out the seed feeders. I think it's likely that the female red-bellied that I'm seeing this year is the same one. This one showed up about a month later than whoever came last winter. She went straight to the suet feeders, visiting each one in turn before settling on one to eat from.

Female Red-bellied Woodpecker (Melanerpes carolinus), February 5, 2022 [Photo: Cathie Bird]

This past week she has started adding seed feeders to her visits. A couple of summers ago I saw a male red-bellied woodpecker on some trees behind the house. So far I have not seen a male near the feeders.

I've seen pileated woodpeckers near the house ever since I moved here. A few years ago, a pair of them nested close by and I got to hear young ones making their first calls. I sometimes see one at the edge of the woods near the feeders, but had never gotten a photo of anything but large dark blobs moving behind bushes until December 2021. On that day a female spent several minutes on a branch doing feather maintenance before she flew into full view and gleaned bark a few seconds on a tree trunk just beyond the porch.

Female Pileated Woodpecker (Dryocopus pileatis), December 1, 2021 [Photo: Cathie Bird]

Besides seeing woodpeckers by themselves, I often catch sight of them near other species, especially around my planter garden, feeders and water stations. Downys don't seem to mind chickadees or titmice sharing a feeder -- I have plenty of photos of them together -- but the arrival of a second woodpecker usually ends with one of them leaving or finding another feeder.

Downy Woodpecker and Carolina Chickadee share the suet log, January 29, 2022 [Photo: Cathie Bird]

One of my favorite woodpecker photos so far this year -- I love the look on the red-bellied woodpecker's face as she sits on the porch rail near a mourning dove.

Red-bellied Woodpecker and a Mourning Dove, January 31, 2022 [Photo: Cathie Bird]