The visitor who wasn’t from Tennessee

Written by Jack Sanders
Thursday, 15 October 2009 11:52

Todd Becker of Revere Drive in Ridgefield had just read the BirdNotes column on window strikes when he had his own experience with an unexpected visitor. He sent along the accompanying picture “of a very lucky yearling Tennessee Warbler that flew into our window during his migration south.”

“After hearing the strike this past Wednesday,” Todd writes, “I went outside to find this lucky fellow sitting dazed on our rear deck.  He was definitely stunned, but recovered on my hand for about 20 minutes before flying off to our lilac trees.  After checking online, I learned that these birds nest in the north (Canada, Maine, Vermont) on forest grounds and winter in South America ... only rarely found in Tennessee!”

For Todd, it must have felt amazing, holding something in his hand that weighs less than an ounce and is in the process of traveling thousands of miles. In fact, the Tennessee Warbler weighs only about a third of an ounce, not much more than a postcard.

“Tennessee Warbler” would seem an odd name for a bird that doesn’t even spend its summers or winters anywhere near Tennessee. Its summer range is across nearly the entire continent in Canada (and very northern New England). Thus, whether you are in Tennessee, Connecticut, or even Colorado, you see Tennessee Warblers only during migrations on their way to and from their breeding grounds.

So why the name? As with so many species, the name reflects where it was first seen. In this case, Alexander Wilson first identified this bird in 1832 on the banks of the Cumberland River in Tennessee. (Thomas Dietsch, writing for the Smithsonian Institution a few years ago, said, “A more apt name for this species might be the ‘Coffee Warbler’ since it often over-winters in coffee plantations in Latin America.”)

Geographical names can be troublesome, even crazy. The North American native wildflower, Jewelweed or Touch-Me-Not, bears the scientific name, Impatiens capensis. The “capensis” is a reference to the Cape of Good Hope, near the southern tip of Africa.  So why name a North American plant after a South African cape?

In the 18th Century, many plants collected overseas were sent to European botanists to be examined, “described” and named. Nicolaas Meerburgh, who in 1775 was the first person to describe Jewelweed, mistakenly thought it had come from South Africa and concocted the capensis name. Thirteen years later, a British-born American botanist named Thomas Walter also described the plant and used the more appropriate, Impatiens biflora, perhaps reflecting the fact that the flowers come in both orange and in yellow forms. That name was used for more than 150 years. However, a couple of decades ago, botanists reverted to Impatiens capensis, using the first-known name for the plant.

When we asked the Brooklyn Botanic Garden about this odd name some years ago, a botanist there replied, “The International Code of Botanical Nomenclature, in the interests of stability, does not permit changes in the specific epithet merely on the grounds that is ‘inappropriate.’” Meerburgh was first, though wrong, so his name wins.

Crash landings?

Steffi Jones of Ridgefield saw something odd recently.

“We were at Mohonk Mountain House last week and a most curious thing happened.  I was walking near the hotel when suddenly a pigeon was tumbling in the grass, feathers flying.  It ultimately settled down and just sat there.  I hadn’t seen it fall out of the sky or anything like that.

“After a while I walked on figuring I couldn’t do anything about anyway.  Closer to the hotel the same thing happened again with another pigeon.  A number of other puzzled guests were there.  Nobody had the faintest notion of what happened.  This time a couple of employees picked the bird up and took it away.  It was alive.  I have no idea how this all ended.

“Could there have been a most incompetent hawk in area?  I have been puzzling about it ever since.”

Anyone have any ideas?

Coming Up

Hook Mountain Hawk Watch, on the Hudson River, with Audubon Greenwich, includes half-mile uphill hike, Saturday, Oct. 17, 9 to 3, RSVP to Ted at 203-869-5272 x230.

Cove Island Park Bird Sanctuary, migrants and shorebirds in Stamford, Sunday, Oct. 18, 8 to 11 a.m., Greenwich Audubon, RSVP Brian 203-869-5272 x221.

Fall Migrants, with Luke Tiller and Sierra Club, Saturday, Oct. 24, 8 to 9:30 a.m., Allen’s Meadows, just north of high school, Route 7, Wilton, 203-216-5938.

Allen’s Meadows, migrating songbirds at Wilton hotspot, Sunday, Oct. 25, Audubon Greenwich to carpool by 8 meet the group in Wilton; RSVP required; call Brian at 203-869-5272x221.

Chestnut Ridge Hawk Watch, trip to Arthur Butler Sanctuary in Bedford, Saturday, Oct. 31, 1 to 4 p.m., meet at 1 at Audubon Greenwich, 613 Riversville Road, to carpool/get directions; RSVP Ted  203-869-5272x230.

Autumn Migration Bird Walks, every Saturday, 7 to 8:45 a.m., in October, meet at Fairchild Sanctuary, North Porchuck Road in Greenwich, free, 203-869-5272 x221, greenwich.audubon.org

Jamaica Bay Wildlife Refuge, trip, Saturday, Nov. 7, 9 to 3, Audubon Greenwich, RSVP Ted 203-869-5272 at x230.

Copyright (c) 2009 by Jack Sanders. Send sightings or comments to: jackfsanders [at sign] yahoo.com, or to Bird Notes, Box 1019, Ridgefield, CT 06877; or call 203-438-1183, extension BIRD (2473), and leave a message with your report, spelling your first and last names and telling us your town. If you need help identifying a bird, try your local nature center. If you find an injured bird, call wildlife rehabilitator Darlene Wimbrow of Redding, 203-438-0618, Wildlife in Crisis of Weston, 203-544-9913, or Wild Wings of Greenwich, 203-637-9822. The columnist’s website is www. sandersbooks. com.