All about a Ruby-crowned Kinglet battling the bird in the bumper
It was one of those glorious, sky-blue autumn days that makes you want to sing, after the oppressive summer heat has melted away, and before the chill of winter descends upon your home. I looked out the window and just knew that the sun’s rays would gently place a warm kiss upon my skin as I went about my garden chores. The redbud trees, resplendent in their orange and yellow costumes, seemed to be holding the line against the coming winter rain, fog, and cold that often blanket the foothills of the Sierra where I live, south of Yosemite National Park.
Eager to begin my morning activities this first week of November, I went out to the front yard, only to find an unexpected visitor at the entrance to the driveway. By his behavior, I surmised that he was planing to stay awhile. As you might imagine, I was keen about investigating that prospect.
There are some who would attest that this area is an attractive part of my property. A generously large mimosa tree with dense, fern-like foliage reaches its branches out over the driveway, creating a pleasant, shady canopy all around its 30 foot diameter. During the spring and summer, a prolific growth of spiky pink, aromatic flowers attract Anna’s Hummingbirds who make rounds throughout the day, savoring the sweet nectar proffered by the blooms.
Anna’s Hummingbird drinks nectar from Mimosa flower
Wild Turkeys, too, often linger there. In the shadows where they must feel safe. they diligently preen their feathers after having a drink in the bird bath that I replenish daily, and scavenge whatever sunflower seeds I’ve tossed out. In the fall, however, as Thanksgiving approaches, they invariably disappear into the surrounding hills and hollows until the mating calls of springtime gobbling brings them back, and the ritual of the strut takes center stage.
Wild Turkey poults drinking from birdbath
By September, the normally abundant pickings of native plants have become scarce for local browsers. So when those same flowers that nourished the hummers begin to drop, deer arrive to consume everything that either collects upon low hanging branches or falls to the ground.
Come the opening of the November calendar, though, those luscious delicacies are all spent; seed pods fall to the ground every day, creating an unsightly mess, the cleanup of which was the reason I went outside in the first place. Mess or no, the driveway entrance remains an inviting place to be for much of the year.
That said, my out-of-the-blue visitor turned out to be a cantankerous Ruby-crowned Kinglet (Corthylio calendula) searching for a place to hang out.
Because of its small size (a bit smaller than a sparrow), and subdued gray and olive-green plumage that blends into the surrounding foliage, I might not have noticed him were it not for the commotion he was making. It was an incessant chattering, instigated, it seemed, by my presence around the mimosa tree. He flitted about from branch to branch, vocalizing his irritation with my intrusion into his newly claimed domain.
I stood there, captivated, following his movements as best I could. After a few moments, and to my astonishment, he shot out from one of the nearby trees, speeding directly at me, wings folded, like a blunt-nosed bullet. Landing upon a leafless twig two feet from my face; the agitated bird looked me straight in the eye before darting off to another branch. With the cadence of a machine-gun blasting away, an extended string of one syllable “chet-chet-chet-chet-chet” notes trailed behind, disrupting the otherwise stillness of this peaceful fall morning. Listen here:
The summer breeding habitat of Ruby-crowned Kinglets in western North America is in conifer forests such as those found in various locations of the Sierra. Because they nest in the upper branches of those tall trees, the casual viewer is not likely to notice them. In the winter, though, they relocate to lower elevations where they make their living foraging in the shrubby, mixed woods of oak and pine that are common in the foothills and lowlands around me.
While I had seen Ruby-crowned Kinglets around my community lake, this was the first time on my property. His presence gave reason for excitement, as well as hopeful anticipation that he would stay for a winter layover.
With their diminutive size and unremarkable plumage, you are not likely to spot kinglets unless you are actively looking for birds. On your lucky day, though, the kinglet will become excited by the presence of another bird, or, if startled, maybe by your movements. Under those circumstances, it might display its namesake red crown. For a birding enthusiast, seeing that feathered adornment is equivalent to grasping the brass ring on a merry-go-round. It is a special moment to witness (and photograph), if only for its rarity.
Olive-green and gray plumage of Ruby-Crowned Kinglet
“chet-chet-chet-chet-chet”
The kinglet was front and center the next morning, too, when I went out to collect the garbage cans off the street. As before, he made a ruckus while flashing about the branches of the mimosa, and into the redbud, cedar and oak trees that are in proximity to the driveway. I was mystified by such frenzied, agonistic behavior.
“chet-chet-chet-chet-chet”
I finally realized that it wasn’t my presence causing this warrior prince of a bird to be in such a dither. He had a challenger, another male kinglet intruding upon his fiefdom, and that individual was hiding in, or around, of all places, my wife’s pickup truck that was parked alongside the driveway.
My prince valiant hopped onto every reflective surface of the truck …. onto the front bumper, then the rear bumper, onto the windshield, then the side mirrors, even the passenger side window, fluttering its wings feverishly, pecking and scratching at his rival. Again and again.
“chet-chet-chet-chet-chet”
Ruby-crowned Kinglet attacks its reflection in mirror
Carpe diem. Fortune is with me, I thought out loud. I rushed to get my camera.
After considering the ambient lighting and neighborhood surroundings, I positioned myself on the driveway gravel for an optimum angle of view, and watched in amazement the astonishing drama that unfolded in plain sight only ten feet away.
My kinglet would descend from the adjacent trees and, with relentless tenacity, make rounds of the various reflective surfaces of the truck, with particular attention focused upon the front bumper. Then, most likely exhausted after several minutes of extreme exertion, he would disappear into the surrounding foliage, only to remount his siege of the truck five or ten minutes later. His dazzling display of dominion was exhausting to watch, and I was just sitting on the ground.
“chet-chet-chet-chet-chet”
The kinglet’s behavior was quite entertaining, and I could have watched it at length over and over. Upon reflection, though, a gnawing sense of guilt soon set it. After all, I held the key to solving my visitor’s territorial disppute and the banishment of his rival. Worried that my little songbird guest would ultimately frazzle itself to death fighting the intruder day after day, I moved the pickup.
With the truck now out of the way, my visitor seems to have settled in with confidence that his territory is secure. If nothing else, there is certainly far less chatter throughout the day. And if I wasn’t already aware of his presence, I might never even notice him.
Eight weeks have now passed, and my surprise guest is still here, much to my joy. Ruby even seems to have declared a truce with me, so that I may now, from time to time, sweep up the fall from the mimosa without his bellicose behavior erupting at my intrusion into his domain. He most certainly appears to enjoy sampling the suet blocks hanging from the trees in both the front and back corners of my property.
“Chet”
Flared red crown display of kinglet
Postscript: a few days after finishing writing this story, I noticed some unusual movement in the leafless redbud tree out front. Two small birds flitted about from branch to branch. Indeed, now there were two Ruby-crowned Kinglets in that tree, one with his red crown ablaze, and another just hopping from branch to branch. Could this second individual, lacking a red crown, be a female? We’ll see.
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