City Hall Park Welcomed Hermit Thrushes and White-throated Sparrows During Late October Heat Wave

 

A migrating Hermit Thrush stopped to forage on the lawn near City Hall in Manhattan

Our apartment overlooks City Hall Park, and from inside I often hear Blue Jays and American Crows, which is a bit surprising considering the remarkable amount of noise from traffic, sirens, protestors, sidewalk performers and leaf blowers in the park. 

But there are quiet moments sometimes when the birds call out, and in recent years I have become more tuned in to their voices.    

Still, I don't usually take my camera and look for birds in City Hall Park because it is so busy, and now surrounded by fencing that doesn't allow for much roaming. 

Fenced off lawn and trees on the east side of City Hall

I do occasionally do some gardening activities there with the Friends of City Hall Park group though, and recently noticed some bird activity, so last week during the warm weather I decided to take a look. 

My neighborhood birding friend Sara advised me to focus on the southern section of the park, below City Hall. (She is very proud that she once spotted a rare Yellow-breasted Chat there.) 

Most of the migratory warblers had already passed by late October, so I wasn't hoping for anything too unusual. 

What I did find right away was a group of migrating Hermit Thrushes that had stopped over to get some food as they make their way further south in the US for the winter. 

Hermit Thrush on a chain near the Tweed Courthouse 

These are birds that breed in northern forests, where they are rarely seen (which is why they are called hermits) but are known for their hauntingly lovely songs. They weren't singing in the city, though, mostly just hunting for insects.  

They are smaller than the American Robins, which are also in the Thrush family, and are regular residents of City Hall Park. Some robins even stay around the city for the winter.

American Robins are cousins of Hermit Thrushes

I also noticed quite a few White-throated Sparrows, which arrive in the city in the fall after breeding further north, and then they stay here for the winter. 

A White-throated Sparrow hunting for insects on a tree branch

Besides insects, they also feed on seeds, fruits and berries during the winter. Native plants in the parks help provide them with food. 

This White-throated Sparrow investigated a Beauty Berry bush 

Of course there are also non-native European House Sparrows that  live in the park year-round. They were brought to New York in the mid-1800s and have thrived here - and all over the country actually.   

A House Sparrow perched on one of the decorative bird-topped posts in City Hall Park

The House Sparrows are about the same size as the White-throated Sparrows, but don't look the same up close.   

Male House Sparrow 

Male and female House Sparrows also look quite different from each other. Male House Sparrows have dark masks around their eyes, white-cheeks and dark patches on their chests. Female House Sparrows are lighter colored, and have gray cheeks, with light streaks above their eyes.

Female House Sparrow

Do look out for White-throated Sparrows in the parks during the winter, but look in the trees or on the lawns. They aren't likely to be mixing with the House Sparrows you see eating people food.  

 

An Unexpected Flaco Celebration

I finally met Flaco, the Eurasian eagle-owl that escaped from Manhattan’s Central Park Zoo in February and has since been living wild in the park’s north woods, to the delight of many New Yorkers. 

It felt a bit like meeting the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland. His story has become mythical and inspirational, since he has survived successfully as a free bird after living in captivity for 12 years, almost his entire life. 

His escape was made possible when some unknown person made a hole in the steel mesh surrounding his small enclosure at the zoo. He evaded attempts by zoo staff to recapture him. They were afraid he would not be able to feed himself, but he quickly applied his instincts to capturing rats in the park. Now tourists and residents make pilgrimages to the north woods in search of Flaco. 

I wasn’t intending to look for him but was walking near there with a friend and she persuaded me to go look since I was so close. 

As I wandered into the area and was considering which way to go, a young woman approached me and asked ‘Have you seen Flaco?’ I thought she was a fellow seeker, but then she said ‘Look up, he is right over your head.’ And he was - though quite well camouflaged. 

While she was explaining where to look, several other people came by and before long we had formed a pop-up community of Flaco fans looking hopefully up into the tree, waiting for him to make a move. 

A passing bicyclist was playing the song ‘I Will Survive’ which led to cheering. 

He peered down at us and we felt blessed. 

I was glad to experience such an unexpected moment of community among strangers in the city - even though I am usually uncomfortable about the attention given to non-native celebrity birds. (Yes, I’m thinking about you, Mandarin Duck.)