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Added: 5/8/2009 ORIOLE
DAYS
Oriole days. They come at the time the apple
blossoms open and the woods are heavy with the earthy scent of hanging green
oak tassels. Just when the leaves are about to open into a green canopy, the
orioles burst on the scene. And I’m
talking birds, not baseball.
These aren’t
ordinary birds. Hanging from the
ends of tree branches, probing burgeoning buds for tiny insects and nectar,
orioles look exotic and exciting. Yellow, black and flame-orange feathers and a
pointed, flower-piercing bill harmonize with tropical flora but look slightly
out of place in our temperate climate. Hearing an oriole’s clear, tuneful
whistle that first May morning makes me drop whatever I’m doing to get a look
at the first oriole of spring. Oriole days turn me into a bird watcher.
One of our prettiest songbirds, the
Baltimore oriole is a true neotropical migrant. It appears literally overnight,
as if by magic. Twice a year orioles fly thousands of miles, under cover of
darkness, between Central America and Virginia.
Having lived all
winter on tropical fruit and flower nectar, orioles are drawn in spring to
local bird feeders offering sugar water and pieces of fruit. Specialty catalogs
and garden centers offer a variety of special oriole feeders. Much like those
designed for hummingbirds, they often include packaged mixes of “oriole
nectar.” But orioles aren’t fussy.
They love sugar water. Better yet, nail half an orange, pulp side out, to the
trunk or low branch of a tree and watch the orioles fly down to the fruit.
The first arrivals
are the fiery males. A few days later they are joined by the only slightly
browner, smoldering females. I suspect these sultry ladies are wildly desirable
and in short supply. Several males often hotly pursue a female even after
nesting season begins. A few years ago my wife and I spent an evening lounging
in our Adirondack chairs in the backyard while two male orioles and one female
chased each other back and forth between the trees. Once the trio landed on the
old, broken-down pasture fence, lighting it up with their tropical fire.
With no prior
practice or experience the female oriole constructs a nest that’s a wonder of
nature. Shaped like a macramé
shoulder bag, woven of plant
fibers and suspended from the last fork at the end of a branch, it usually
hangs fifteen to twenty feet above the ground. Elms, willows, and sycamores are
favorite nesting trees.
I have an oriole’s nest I cut from the
forked end of a black walnut tree branch. My wife discovered it lying in our
yard after a winter storm. About 6 1/2 inches deep and 4 1/2 inches wide at the
bottom, that nest has weathered to a silvery driftwood gray and is so evenly
knit and knotted that it looks like crochet work. The lining is made of hair,
fine grass and plant down. The whole thing is tightly woven, particularly at
the bottom. So finely is it crafted that when birds are inside they draw the
top of the nest together slightly with their own weight.
In this cradle
that swings to the rhythm of summer winds, mother orioles lay three to six eggs
that hatch within 14 days. While they feed their young on insects, the adults
are fond of fruit such as black raspberries and blueberries. Both parents feed the yellow- bellied,
olive-backed fledgelings until a week or so after they leave the nest.
Another oriole,
the orchard oriole, occurs here as well. Not so striking as their orange and
black relatives, adult male orchard oriole have the same color pattern but
bright chestnut-brown replaces the orange. Females and first-year males are
olive-green with two white wing bars and a yellowish breast. Orchard orioles build a shallower
basket rather than a pouch nest, but employ the same materials and
craftsmanship.
Orioles will grace our northern
latitudes for barely four months. They’ll depart in early September for Central
and South America.
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