BIRDS OF NANTUCKET
WHY NOT A NANTUCKETWARBLER?
by Kenneth Turner Blackshaw
Ever hear of Cape May? Maybe you've been there. It's way down at the bottom of New Jersey, a part of the state most interstate travelers never see. It's a funnel pointing to a large expanse of salt water where Delaware Bay and the Atlantic Ocean meet and it's a Mecca for bird watchers in the autumn. Non-birders enjoy the beaches and Victorian architecture.

Cape May Warbler

The author of the wonderful series "Life Histories of North American Birds," Arthur Cleveland Bent, suggests that the naming of this week's bird provided more publicity for Cape May than any other event. This goes back to the year 1811 when George Ord was 'collecting' birds in a maple swamp on this cape, discovered in 1620 by Dutch captain Cornelius Jacobsen Mey. George shot one of these little charmers and sent it to his friend Alexander Wilson. Wilson added it to his collection and named it for this spot, the Cape May Warbler. It's turned out to be a rather inappropriate name since the bird wasn't seen again there for over 100 years.

Although rare in Wilson's time (Audubon never saw a live one either) for some reason this colorful little warbler has become much more common in the last century. Perhaps conditions are just right for it. Or perhaps since birders have better optical tools they can spot these guys hanging out in the treetops where they couldn't be seen before.

As is often the case, the bird's scientific name came from a separate set of circumstances and it wasn't until years later that the two were united. Even before Wilson held the first specimen in his hand, a tired little warbler flew aboard a ship off Jamaica and was painted by George Edwards. This painting then traveled to Germany where it was shown to a naturalist named Gmelin who, impressed with the black stripes on the yellow and orange background, gave it the scientific name, Dendroica tigrina, the little tiger wood warbler. The resemblance is superficial but once named in science, a name stays forever.

On Nantucket I remember this bird as one of the most confusing fall warblers. My first Peterson bird guide had a color plate with this title and showed many nondescript greenish yellow birds, mostly looking the way birds do that have just hatched and are making their first trip south.

In the autumn, these warblers have lost their bright yellow breasts and bellies and only hints of the black stripes remain. All that is left is a vestige of the white wing patch and just a slightly lighter spot behind the eye. Under the tutelage of Edith Andrews at her banding station out in Mothball Pines, I handled enough of these mites to know them well.

Years later when living in Atlanta I saw my first spring-plumaged male Cape May. It was right at eye level and for a few seconds as it turned this way and that, I could appreciate the sharp black tiger stripes against the yellow underparts, the fiery orange cheeks, and the flashy white wing patch as they etched themselves into my memory. I could imagine the thrill that early scientist felt to find one of these in his hands, never conceiving such a bird existed before.

Cape May Warblers nest very high in the spruces and firs along the northern border of our country and Canada. Although in the warbler family, their song is a rather insignificant high series of weak notes that only young ears can hear. So well hidden are their nests that one was not found until 1916. Those nests hold their six or seven eggs in a neat cup lined with hair, feathers, and a little fur, all smoothly felted to provide a comfy resting place.

Like most warblers their diet is almost exclusively insects. One unfortunate exception seems to be in the fall when the grape crops are ripe. Cape Mays are often blamed for decimating grape harvests by making a little hole in each grape and then drinking the juice.

Although most of these tiny mites spend the winter in the Caribbean Islands, a few stay in southern Florida. They have been known to linger in southern New England well into November and one year perhaps we'll find one on our Christmas Bird Count.

Of course the best time to appreciate them is the springtime when their colors are brilliant. But you have a much better chance of finding one now through early October when they are at their confusing fall best.

Just imagine though if George Ord had been on Nantucket instead of Cape May when he collected that first specimen. Then it would be the Nantucket Warbler instead of the Cape May. But in 1811 Nantucketers were collecting whales, not birds and

there the story goes. I

George C. West creates illustrations for these articles. If you enjoy 'social' birding, join the Nantucket Bird Club at 8 a.m. Sundays in front of Nantucket High School for a two to three hour birding trip. Call 228-1693 for more information. To hear about rare birds, or to leave a bird report call the Massachusetts Audubon hot line at 1-781-259-8805. Ask Ken a question at: kenandcindy1@comcast.net.