The crash was heavier than

anything I'd ever heard against the glass wall of our house.

I looked up just in time to

see a hawk glance off and fly slowly, low, around the corner of the house.

A broad band on his tail was all I glimpsed before he was gone, making

me believe he was a red-shouldered.

I ran outside without putting

on shoes and, after checking to be sure there wasn't also a wounded songbird

on the deck, clattered through the leaves around the side of the house

to see if the hawk had made it. Smaller birds that hit the glass typically

seek a branch and just sit quietly for up to an hour after such a mind-fogging

collision.

But there was no sign of the

big bird anywhere in our wooded lot, nor even a feather left as a calling

card. Since we strung garden netting taut across the glass several years

ago, we have reduced from dozens to just one the number of birds killed

Ironic, we know, that drawing

birds to the house with feeders could have such an unintended outcome.

There's similar irony in the fact that the feeders attracting songbirds

also provide a banquet of little birds for predators like hawks and neighborhoods

cats.

The strident scolding cry of

jays or a sudden flushing of cardinals invariably signals the arrival

of one or the other in our yard. The cats we chase. The hawks, perched

on a limb to target their lunch those we savor as avidly as we do kinglets

and warblers. Times change: When I was a kid, I remember too well, hawks

were good only for shooting.

Dave participates each month

in Project FeederWatch, a Cornell Lab of Ornithology program in which

he and more than 15,000 other avian aficionados jot down species and numbers

of birds seen at home feeders over a period of two days. The data yield

ongoing information about the shift of bird populations throughout North

America.

I wonít swamp you with

facts look 'em up yourself at https://birds.cornell.edu but their

recent newsletter, Birdscope, supported what a lot of birders had concluded

for themselves, that last winter fewer birds than usual appeared at backyard

feeders. Researchers attribute this to warmer temperatures and the fact

that food remained plentiful further north.

As a Kansas participant sighed,

"Another mild winter, and consequently, a boring FeederWatch."

A number of familiar species, like ground-feeding towhees and dark-eyed

juncos, were in decline, but there were more than usual evening grosbeaks,

white-breasted nuthatches and brown creepers. We noted the same thing

here, with nuthatches never seen here in the previous decade in residence

for the past couple of years.

Look elsewhere in today's paper

for a story about the Christmas Bird Count this Saturday. Coordinator

Brock Hutchins would like to hear from people willing to participate.

I have to tell you, it's not a day to start a new hobby. To be of value

to this annual one-day census, you need to be an experienced birder, willing

to be out for at least several rather strenuous hours, rain or shine.

Or do as we do, and spend just

a couple of hours in the comfort of your home with binoculars trained

on your own backyard. And if you have property that counters can traipse

over, let Brock know that too. He's looking for a variety of habitats

where birds may be seen.

Birding, if you hadn't noticed,

has become the fastest growing outdoor recreation in North America, according

to a Cornell report. Fifty to 60 million Americans now describe themselves

as bird watchers.

If you're one of them, you'll

appreciate a story in Birdscope's autumn issue, demonstrating this increased

interest in our wild neighbors and the savvy of those who care about them.

John Fitzpatrick, a director of Project FeederWatch, wrote that he often

combines two of his passions by listening for the background songs of

birds while watching golf on television.

On a Sunday afternoon late

this summer, he was cheering on Tiger Woods in the Buick Open in Pontiac,

Mich., and noted to his delight the songs of wood thrush, hermit thrush,

mockingbird, even a white-throated sparrow, heard over the commentary.

Great birds for a southern Michigan golf course, he thought.

The following week, however,

he heard the same birds at the PGA Championship tournament in Louisville,

Ky. "My response was repeated in living rooms all across the country:

'No way!' There isn't a white-throated sparrow within 800 miles of Louisville

in August!" Two realizations rocked his faith in live TV, he said:

(1) that the network was playing bird recordings and (2) that "The

producers had no idea and apparently didn't care that they were supplying

erroneous biological information about the place they were televising,

yet this was a live broadcast."

He and hundreds of others showered

CBS with complaints about "nature-faking," as Fitzgerald calls

it. A senior spokesperson told him that producers had no idea "so

many viewers actually listen for and think about the sounds of nature

behind the golf swings. CBS vowed to abandon the use of dubbed sound and

will now use only the sounds they get from live microphones."

What some folks won't do for

a birdie.

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