BREAKFAST WITH A
NORTHERN WATERTHRUSH

Here there's no space for my traditional morning campfire, but there's a gas stove and plenty to eat, so it works out. Moreover, when I breakfast I have before me a fine view of the gardens. Well, actually you can see my view from the blue table at http://www.backyardnature.net/n/06/061030v.jpg.

Each morning from maybe 20 feet away I'm accompanied by a Northern Waterthrush who walks (not hops) our gravel paths and flits from limestone rock to rock, always bobbing his rear end in the most exaggerated manner. I suppose the evolutionary idea behind this bobbing is that if a predator is distracted by a bird's waving rear end it may end up clutching a bunch of tail feathers, not a more essential part of the bird. Other species, such as Dippers, profoundly bob as they walk, really looking comical to human eyes, and several species habitually flick their tails, such as Palm Warblers, phoebes and Empidonax flycatchers.

In southwestern Mississippi I was much more accustomed to seeing Louisiana Waterthrushes than Northern ones. The two species are so closely related that they can be hard to separate in the field. A good page comparing them side by side is found at http://www.hiltonpond.org/ThisWeek020515.html.

You can see the Northern Waterthrush's summer and winter distribution map, and hear its song here.

The same information is available for the Louisiana here.

On the distribution maps, notice how the Northern Waterthrush spends its winters here in the Yucatan while the Louisiana just migrates through, overwintering farther south of here.

As you might expect these days my breakfast companion doesn't sing his spring and summer song. However, he does very vigorously issue his "chink" call. At first I wondered about this but now I read that Northern Waterthrushes are territorial not only during the summer but also on their wintering grounds, where they're given to chasing off and fighting intruders!

At breakfast as the humid heat builds and builds with the rising sun and I'm surrounded by the luxuriant greenness shown in the picture, I like to watch my little friend and try to imagine him as he was just a while ago, in those Alaskan, Canadian and far- northern-US swamps and bogs he favors for his summer home. Judging from the jaunty way he bobs his tail and pecks so enthusiastically in our gravel, I'd say he's not missing those climes at all.