VIRGINIA BEACH
Great crested flycatchers — those noisy, zany, bold and colorful birds — are my favorites to welcome back in the spring.
You know they are in town as soon as you hear their loud "whee-eep, whee-eep, whee-eep" coming from the treetops. Confirmation may be the sight of a big bird darting out in acrobatic flight to catch an insect on the wing.
I learned about the great crested's wonderful ways years ago when someone gave me a hand-painted bird box that he built and decorated. He said the hole was the right size for flycatchers.
It was way fancy for what I thought a roguish flycatcher would like, but I hung it in full view on a high post on my deck that supports a trellis. That first year, a pair took right to that interior decorator's white box, painted with flowers, butterflies and more.
While darting about the tree tops, calling and catching insects, the flycatchers' motto might as well be, "heard but not seen." But as soon as they settle in to nest, they make themselves known in every way.
Watching them fly in to to feed their young with a huge mouthful of insects — big ones like dragonflies — was great fun.
The birds' crests, more crazy than great, would fluff up like an overgrown butch haircut when they were excited. Their reddish-brown backs and bright yellow breasts were always handsome, despite the awkward hairdo.
The flycatchers nested in that little designer box for several years. Then the box gave way to time and rot, and I had to take it down. I purchased a new box, this one designed for flycatchers also. It was big, heavy duty, expensive and not nearly as pretty.
The flycatchers have never been happy since. It's been three or four years. I even had to replace the box once because squirrels gnawed on it so badly to enlarge the hole to make a nest of their own.
Although the squirrels' home is a winter rental and the flycatchers' is a summer rental, I don't think the flycatchers want to share. Every year they come and check out the box. And every year, they chortle back and forth, as if to say, "This isn't for us."
But this year something changed.
A pair came a couple weeks ago, and left as usual. Then, over the weekend, they returned to the box again and again. I'm beginning to think they are going to move in.
I see them going in and out of the box at different times of the day but haven't noticed nesting materials yet. As I write this, I can hear them outside, perhaps discussing arrangements for the nursery. You can't miss that voice, even when it's low-key and conversational.
They are so bold, that it appears that humans don't seem to matter too much around their abode. Once while I was sitting on the deck, one swooped down for a dragonfly right in front of me.
Now I've got my fingers crossed for a summer's worth of Netflix from the great crested flycatchers.
P.S. Visit www.allaboutbirds.org and search for "great-crested flycatcher." You can hear a recording of their distinctive call and learn more.
CLOSE ENCOUNTERS
Joan Chang sent a photo of a first-year summer tanager male taken by husband Amos Chang in their Great Neck Point yard. The youngster, with his bright adult feathers coming in, looked as if he had been tie-dyed.
Terry Berglund photographed a brown water snake at Back Bay National Wildlife Refuge. These harmless snakes have chunky black designs on their brown backs.
Joe Gosse photographed a tri-colored heron, not as common as our other herons here, feeding along the shoreline of the pond at Lake Smith condos.
Harold Winer in Kings Grant took a video of a black snake moving along the edge of the woods.
Steven Snyder in the Bayville area sent photos of a yellow-crowned night heron perched on his deck trellis and exploring his pond.
Theresa Bourgard in Brigadoon got a visit from a rose-breasted grosbeak, a striking black, white and red migrant.
Jean Broughton in Morgans Walke has been keeping her eyes on a barred owl pair for a couple of years and managed to photograph one of the young in her yard just recently. "We've been hearing a lot of the high-pitched screeching sound that we know barred youngsters make," Broughton said.
Tom Houser in Kempsville sent photos of monarch caterpillars all over his milkweed plants. The caterpillars are getting an early start this year.
Harvey Seargeant sent beautiful photos of great egrets from the rookery located near Indian River and Campostella roads in Norfolk. See Houser's and Seargeant's photos in Thursday Beacon's Close Encounters.
Edward Connor in the Great Bridge/Hickory area of Chesapeake said he has no purple martins this year. And, he said, he has seen more tree swallows than ever, and they have been hanging around the purple martin boxes. I wonder since both are insect-eaters and cavity-nesters, could the swallows have usurped the martin's territory? Does anyone have any thoughts?
Stacey Klemenc reports that her purple martins finally arrived in South Shore Estates. Am sure the martins' return to the area was delayed by the cold spring and lack of insects.
Tim Richard sent a photo of a Luna moth resting on his house siding at the North End.
Richard and June Austin sent sweet photos of young bluebirds and parents in Chesapeake Colony in Great Bridge. On my blog see Trista Imrich's photos and tale of rescuing baby bluebirds after their house fell down.
Carol Black sent photos of house finches and goldfinches on her feeder in Knotts Island.
Woody Stephens sent some handsome photos of wood duck males in his Thalia neighborhood, but no moms or babes, he said.
Jonathan Snyder snapped an oystercatcher in flight at Pleasure House Point, its bright orange oyster knife of a beak, gleaming in the sun.
Cathie Sykes sent sweet photos of a tufted titmouse gathering nesting materials from a container that Sykes has stuffed with yarn clippings, cotton balls and her golden retriever's hair. Birds like the hair best, she said.
Chuck Guthrie photographed sanderlings on the beach, just south of the Virginia-North Carolina line. Guthrie got some good views of males in their almost red breeding colors.
Robert Brown sent photos of a clump of ladybugs on a leaf and later a bunch of just hatched ladybug toddlers, which are really fearsome aphid predators.