watching and waiting

by Amy Gross

Say’s phoebe is always on the hunt

ONE OF THE MANY THINGS I LOVE about spring in northern New Mexico is witnessing the return of birds that have wintered in warmer climates and the sudden realization that some of my favorite cold-weather birds have quietly exited the scene. This seasonal changing of the guard is what birders live for.

When the temperatures warm up, one of the first birds to re-enter the picture here is the Say’s phoebe, a rather nondescript little brown bird with a sleekly shaped dark head, yellow to orange breast and sturdy beak. The Say’s phoebe’s return to the neighborhood is always a surprise and a delight, but also a reminder that the insects and bugs that make up its diet will also appear soon. I think of phoebes and other members of the flycatcher family like Western and Cassin’s kingbirds, ash-throated flycatchers and loggerhead shrikes as nature’s pest controllers—and so I welcome them with open arms.

The Say’s phoebe prefers dry areas like our high desert and feasts on the insects that inhabit those scrubby places. Phoebes are masters at perching, waiting patiently atop a wire, pole, or even a single, tall dead stalk for a beetle, grasshopper, fly or other insect to trundle into view. Making its move, the phoebe will snatch the insect expertly right out of the air or dive to the ground and pounce on its prey.

Being insect eaters, Say’s phoebes won’t be visiting your feeders. But they do have a fondness for nesting among human houses. Don’t be surprised to find a phoebe couple checking out a light fixture or crevice beneath your portal for a nice spot to raise a brood. If you can build a nice flat platform in a covered area, you’d be doing these birds a kindness.

For two summers in a row, a lone Say’s phoebe has positioned himself on a street sign at the end of my loop, a tiny sentinel who placidly watches our cars going in and out. Everyone on the street refers to this sweet little guy as the neighborhood watch. The joke is on us, though; he’s actually keeping a sharp eye out for lunch! But as we humans unashamedly anthropomorphize our feathered friends, I’m hoping he will return this summer to preside as our neighborhood greeter once again.

Amy Gross is a birder and the organizer of Santa Fe Birdbrains, a Northern New Mexico–based Meetup group.