Birding and herping in the Piedmont grasslands

Earlier this month, I had the opportunity to spend a day in the field with two luminaries from the N.C. Museum of Natural Sciences. Ornithologist John Gerwin has studied the special population of black-throated green warblers that breeds on forested peaks in the Uwharries, and he was eager to spend some time in our grasslands. Herpetologist Jerry Reynolds has attended John’s field trips during the LandTrust for Central North Carolina’s annual Naturalist Weekend at the Low Water Bridge Preserve. The two often lead outings together. They came to scout our grasslands prior to bringing a group affiliated with the museum and Wake County Audubon. We were joined by U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service biologist Laura Fogo who has been involved with numerous habitat restoration efforts throughout our region.

In summer, our grasslands are resplendent with blue grosbeaks, indigo buntings, common yellowthroats and orchard orioles, but these colorful migrants depart for warmer climates after breeding season. The tones in fall are muted and monochromatic, allowing the understated sparrows to take center stage. Even if you manage to get a good look at them, sparrows are notoriously hard to identify. Some birders refer to them collectively as LBJs – little brown jobs.

Good thing we had so many experts on hand. We were rewarded with several large, mixed flocks. Savannah, field and song sparrows congregated at the brushy edges. Chipping sparrows dashed between the grasses and a nearby grove of trees. Dozens of white crowned and white throated sparrows exploded from a weedy patch amid the skeleton of a crumbling shed. When grasshopper sparrows are present, they seem to prefer the fescue fields, as do the meadowlarks. We saw most of the expected species, but I hope to be proficient enough one day to recognize any rare transients that might make a brief appearance during migration, like the bobolinks I spotted a couple years ago toward the end of May.

It was also a good day for raptors. Redtailed hawks soared high overhead, as did black and turkey vultures. A small accipiter circled above us with its distinctive rapid wingbeat, giving us ample opportunity to identify it as a sharp-shinned hawk. Its flight pattern and slightly rounded tail allowed us to distinguish it from the more common Cooper’s hawk. The best raptor encounter of the day had to be the northern harriers. A single female has wintered with us for many years. Others often appear early in the season, but she always manages to chase them away. On this day there were two, either a second female or a juvenile male still in a similar brown plumage before maturing into his distinguished gray suit. I never tire of seeing them – they’re an uncommon winter resident in the Piedmont, and they trace the contours of our land in the most poetic way, their bodies skimming the seedheads.

I took the group past a tangled thicket near the creek where I’d twice flushed a woodcock the previous weekend. This time, the woodcock either hunkered down or had left for a resting place a little farther off the beaten path. In the coming weeks, the males will launch themselves into the evening sky above the grasslands – soaring, diving, spiraling and chirping. Their mating display is so overwrought it becomes almost comical, like a man at a bar wearing gold chains and a slinky shirt unbuttoned just a little too far. Still, it seems to work with the lady woodcocks. Our grasslands are lousy with them. On a good evening, I can hear up to half a dozen at once.

In the midst of all this birding, Jerry found a black rat snake dozing on a concrete slab, relishing the sun on a chilly morning. When he picked it up, it relaxed into the warmth of his gentle hands. We thought this sighting might be a good omen for finding a rattlesnake up on the mountain. Later that afternoon, Jerry used his hooked stick to turn over loose stones and logs and to probe the crevices of rock outcrops and the corners of an abandoned shed. Alas, his search was fruitless. The grasslands of the Uwharries are enchanting in fall, but Jerry is already planning to return in early spring, when the rattlers are apt to be sunning outside their winter dens.