We call this season the “dog days of summer”. Whoever coined that phrase must not have liked dogs. It’s been hot and humid for days. The grass has burned brown, except over the septic field, and just recently revived to a touch of green by the afternoon monsoons. When Captain John Smith first sailed into the Chesapeake Bay in 1608 he declared it “a country that may have the prerogative over the most pleasant places known…heaven and earth never agreed better to frame a place for man’s habitation”. He must not have arrived in August.
Actually “dog days” is an astronomical reference to our Sun’s August location in the zodiac, projected within the constellation Canis Major, the Greater Dog. The constellation and its brightest star, Sirius, the Dog Star, won’t be visible in the night sky, however, until winter.
The bird behavior is also noticeably changed around my home patch. Yesterday, in the late day heat, there was an eerie silence. Even the Mockingbird and Osprey were hushed by the heat. I’ve been trying to keep the baths free of algae, but recently gave up the fight. The rains are creating enough puddles to quench the birds’ thirst.
Birds, as you know, do not sweat–they have no sweat glands. They can’t control their body temperature by the evaporation of sweat, as we can. When you see them frolicking in the bath or puddle they are both cleaning their feathers and wetting themselves to promote evaporation. Evaporation is an endothermic event, extracting heat from the feathers.
Nesting must be nearing its seasonal completion here, and some early migrants have already left. I’m seeing fewer terns on the dock and the gulls, which have been absent all summer, are regrettably back, bringing their mess of mangled fish, crabs, and guano. I surmise that the gulls work of nesting is complete and they are flocking to my dock in anticipation of the fall migration. That can’t come soon enough for me. The Osprey still have another month here, before heading south.
This month, for me has been very slow on the birding front. Much of it has been done from the hammock, or through the windows of the air-conditioned office. It’s a good time to catch up on some reading and preparation for fall, which is a glorious season on the Chesapeake.
My reading list includes two new purchases; A Sand County Almanac by Aldo Leopold, and How to be an Urban Birder by David Lindo. The first was recommended by a birder friend and does look interesting. It’s a naturalist’s classic, written in 1949, but somehow missed by me all these years. The latter is also destined to become a classic, written primarily for the urban-trapped birder, but is also full of suggestions for us country folk who occasionally venture into the concrete jungles.
Leopold’s book is a collection of his essays and begins with this declaration; “there are some who can live without wild things, and some who cannot. These essays are the delights and dilemmas of one who cannot.” Lind, on the other hand, is a thoroughly modern, urbanized resident of downtown London, who despite that became an avid birder. His book is full of tips for urban birding, and sprinkled with wonderful photos documenting his success, even in that environment.
So, my routine in these waning days of summer will be to read these books in the hammock, between rain showers. I’ll have the binoculars ready, just in case, and occasionally turn on the Merlin APP on my cell phone to check on any strange birdsongs. Yesterday it identified the Chimney Swifts and a distant call of a Red-tailed Hawk. Life is sweet, even in the dog days.
I enjoyed reading ‘A Sand County Almanac’ by Aldo Leopold some years ago – a wonderfully observant man. Your mention of birds having no sweat glands and thus the importance of water for bathing and evaporation reminds me of the gular fluttering I have observed in several birds during the hottest part of our summers – you can actually observe them ‘panting’ in the shade. I wondered if you had captured your Indigo Bunting in full song or if it was doing the same.
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You’re so right. I should have mentioned gular fluttering as another important cooling technique. That bunting may well have been demonstrating it for me. Thanks for this addition and your comment.
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Just found out about the Merlin app from Phil’s son, Matt, who was visiting us from San Francisco. It makes me look very smart! Enjoy the hammock, Steve!
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Merlin is truly one of the most amazing break-throughs in birding, right up there with binoculars and digital cameras. Happy birding, Eva.
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P.S. “SCA” is one of my all time favorites. Should be required reading in elementary school!
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I guess I’m way behind the curve in “discovering” SCA. Birding and reading are two of the cherished rewards of this retirement life. Good to hear from you.
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Just reading this makes me look forward to our austral summer and the long hot days it brings to southern Africa – that hammock and a good book sounds like the way to endure it
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I’m hoping for the heat to end, and you’re looking forward to it; as they say, “the grasser is always greener on the other side”, unless of course, you’re having a severe drought as I’ve heard you are experiencing down there. Thanks for the comment.
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