Sunday Outing to Turner Park - Habits of the Yellowhammer - Leaves from the Notebook of an Old Nature Student

By Sandy Griswold.

Though nothing strange, at an early hour on Sunday morning last, it fortuitously occurred to me that a little ramble through the boulevard park wouldn't be a bad idea, and happily I proceeded to follow the hunch and incalculably was my reward.

It was quite chilly, in the lower forties somewhere, and there were a few vagrant snowflakes in the air. Still there was no call for extra wraps and I was speedily on my way.

I do not know what actuated me, for surely I did not expect to encounter anything new or startlingly interesting. The birds had apparently all departed and I hardly hoped to catch sight of even a single one of my old favorites - a lingering robin, tree sparrow, nuthatch, downie or even the ever-present and irrepressible chickadee, for I had seen none of these for days.

However, I had hardly crossed the street to the little triangular patch of park in front of my residence, with its spreading blue cedars, pallid barked sycamores, walnut, elm and ash trees, all wind-stripped and coldly gray in the early ambient light, when to my delight surprise, amidst a little flurry of English sparrows from the ground where they had been breakfasting on the grass seeds, was a sturdy male yellowhammer, which undulated away before my advancing footsteps, sounding his sharp single note of alarm, "kee-uck!" he was quickly hidden within the leafless involucre of the big elm across the boulevard, and one of the most beautiful trees in all Omaha.

I did not intend, however, to permit him to dismiss me so unceremoniously before I had seen more of him and I followed him about from tree to tree, spying upon his every move through my glasses for more than a half hour and not one second of this period did I regard as wasted time.

I always love the flicker - one of the yellowhammer's commonest titles - from my earliest boyhood days, the bird has always been an obsession with me.

And why?

Because the yellowhammer is one of the loveliest, the most interesting and most valuable, of all our commoner birds and there are none who appreciate the qualities that are essential to beauty and attractiveness who are so bold as to deny.

I repeat, to me personally, the yellowhammer has always held an unequalled place as a bird of indescribable charm, and I believe, among all ornithologists of repute, is the most wondrously marked birds in the world.

"The cackle of the flicker among the oaks," was music to the soul of Thoreau, and it is music likewise to every pure-minded sportsman who takes to the fields and marshes in these chill fall days, or in the odorous spring time, either, when the wild fowl are flying.

All outers, I have found it the unbroken rule, whether they be shooters, anglers, or simple naturalists, have an especial affection for this beautiful bird, and while it used to be classified as a game bird in most states of the union, it is rare, indeed, that he is now-a-days killed for the table.

It is the yellowhammer, like the robin and the blue bird, that lifts time's veil and brings back beloved visions of the long, long ago, especially to such old woods haunters as myself, to whom, in youth, they were the primary game. It was on these birds that the most of the old day sportsmen first tried their prowess with the old smooth-bored musket or single barrel, among the hickories, bordering the village of my barefoot days.

When you hear the cheery cackle of the flicker, and you are sure to, on the first sunny days in March, when the forked rudder of the pintail is defined against the sky, and, when in the old days, you made your way out the Platte - sure to catch, those peculiar broken notes, as they emanated like strands of pearls, from distant groves of cottonwood or boxelder, you were also sure that spring has come.

Yes, the yellow-hammer is a migrant, although it is not uncommon for one or more of them to cling to us all winter, yet when they do go, they generally time their departure and arrival with a precision that seldom fails. From the time of his appearance in March, he is a familiar adjunct to our rural and frequently urbane scenery, until late in November. His absence would seem like a blot on one of nature's most royal works. As he darts away, with that undulating pitch of his, from a rotten snag or fence post, he borrows all the gold from the sunshine that glints his yellow pinions. As he flashes his wings in straightaway flight before your advancing footsteps, or sounds his sharp, single note of alarm, or peers down upon you from the portal of his lofty tower of oak or cottonwood, or clings to its gnarled wall, or poses right-side or wrong-side up on fence stake or telegraph pole, displaying his black dotted vest or mottled saddle, you recognize the fitness of each of the many names bestowed upon him by scientific scholar or quaint and quiet country folk.

It is a wonder his happy cackle wherewith he announces the end of his vernal journey from the land of honeysuckle and pomegranate, has not become symbolical of spring's climateric and gained for him one universal note.

His courtship note, a soft, sweet, refined clucking, almost impossible to imitate in words, is one of the sounds of melody that vibrates the springs caressing air, and is rated even with the carillon of the scarlet tanager or the vesper hymn of the spirit thrush. You have all heard it years ago, when down in the greening lowlands for jacks in the soothing days of early April, and can make no mistake. This cannot be called a song, but is so joyously welcomed, perhaps, because it is one of the most inevitable sounds of the entrancing spring-tide, and is seldom if ever heard after the time of glad return and love-making. The yellow-hammer's brood is well grown by the last of June, and as soon as the little ones launch themselves upon the world during the first part of the subsequent month, they instinctively become the implacable enemy of the borer, that most insidious destroyer of the apple and other fruit trees, as he is to noxious insects of all kinds, and yet his favorite diet is ants.

However, it wasn't of the yellow-hammer I meant to tell you when I began this little article, but of an entirely different kind, and a far rarer one here, and a number of which I discovered in my sauntering Sunday morning - but the pine grosbeak - but will now he compelled to forebear until another Sunday.

November 20, 1927. Sunday World-Herald 63(8): 15-W. Leaves from the Notebook of an Old Nature Student.

Turner Park Haunts Once a Haven for Wildbirds

By James Ed. Ducey

Omaha - Construction underway for a midtown development will include tree removal at Turner Park, on the east edge of Midtown Crossing at Turner Park, a $300 million mixed-use project sponsored by Mutual of Omaha.

Ground-breaking for the project occurred on September 20th.

Plans show a circular drive of cement will extend east from south 31st street, into the park to provide parking, etc.

About 35 trees were marked for removal, including two old, towering cottonwoods broken around the top, and a variety of other deciduous and coniferous trees.

"The trees will be removed late this fall or early winter," according to Steve Scarpello, of Omaha Parks and Recreation. "The city's arborist gave final approval on all trees that had to be removed. He also recommended that some of the trees be removed because he felt that they were unhealthy."

Changes planned will be an enhancement to the green space at the park, Scarpello said in an email. "The park will be expanded by nearly 50%. It is the opinion of the city that many more people will now have the opportunity to enjoy this beautiful park. The city is excited about the possibilities for Turner Park.

Plans are to replace the trees being removed.

"Although some trees will be lost because of the construction of the road, many more trees will be planted to replace those trees.

A landscaping plan is not currently available.

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The arboreal splendor about Turner Park once provided places of a rich history of urban bird life. A couple of the cottonwoods to be removed have an age that would stretch back to the halycon days with wild haunts to enjoy. Little unkempt places attracted birds and the men that watched them.

In a 1912 letter to the sporting editor for the Sunday World-Herald, a contributor wrote about his enjoyment of birdlife in the Turner Park neighborhood.

"Three years ago chickadees and downy woodpeckers, with an occasional pine grosbeak, were occasionally seen about the shrubbery on my place. About that time I placed a few pieces of pump tubing in the trees, and that and each subsequent winter I have constantly kept pieces of beef suet fastened to the branches. As a result, while the birds do not remain constantly, still from November to April, the following birds are almost daily visitors. Chickadees, downy and hairy woodpeckers, white-bellied nuthatches, while I have had, off and on, robins - all through the winter months - blue jays, rarely a black and white creeper, and once three brown creepers. I have not been able to determine definitely whether they use the tubing for roosting or not, but think they do. Last spring a pair of blackcaps acted as though they were about to build in one, but were prevented by the sparrows. Last night we were entertained for over an hour by a little screech owl, from his perch in a sidewalk maple. - The Physician."

In 1918, in a bird editorial in the Sunday newspaper at Omaha - Miles Greenleaf probably the writer - mentioned the Red-eyed and Warbling Vireos, among the treetops at Turner Park. In April 1920, the visit of a Yellow-bellied Sapsucker was noted by another blurb in the paper.

Sporting editor Sandy Griswold remarked his fascination with Turner Park in October 1920.

"When the marvelous transformation which is now rapidly becoming noticeable in our woods and fields, gets really under way, all bird sounds, and much bird color, seem to vanish utterly, and the ever perplexing problem of the why and the wherefore of it all forces itself upon us, and thus we may go on, revolving, and re-revolving the all-mastering puzzle in our feeble minds.

"Yet, au contrarie, only last Tuesday morning, as I left my abiding place at the lovely Turner court and entered the charming little park on the south, en route for the Farnam street car, and my office down town, I was stopped short in my tracks by the carolling of a robin from the top branch of a maple sapling, indeed, an unusual thing, singing away with all the joyous unction of our earliest spring days. Naturally he should have been with his countless fellows, running around upon the woodsy floor, silent and morose, in that undoubted preliminary training for the long jaunt south, on which most of them are soon to start. Of course there were other bird sounds, the wild and uncanny kee-uck of the flicker, the clack of the swarming grackles, and occasionally the peevish chip of a belated thrasher, but no song.

"Turner park, though regretfully small, is exceptionally charming and truly a great bird haven, and every day, for a fortnight past, I have been keeping espionage upon the robins, who are the most numerous, being there daily in almost countless numbers."

The words continued with an ongoing discussion of the "little Bubo" the resident owl in the tree branches.

Another expressive account noted the winter bird life at the park, across from Griswold's apartment residence at 3109 Dewey Avenue. The writer walked through the park on his way to the rail car, for a ride downtown to the office.

Black-capped Chickadee ~ more of them in winter than there are in summer

Blue Jay ~ sojourns but briefly in the winter time

Brown Creeper ~ best known of winter visitors

Downy Woodpecker ~ fed by Griswold every morning

Golden-crowned Kinglet ~ entrancing winter guest, infrequently met with

Northern Cardinal ~ cardinal grosbeak mingle occasionally with the chickadees and downies

Red-breasted Nuthatch ~ winter visitant

Tufted Titmouse ~ quite often met with

White-breasted Nuthatch ~ noted daily

The column was on another Sunday, December 19, 1920.

Continuing his enjoyment of the local bird haunt, Griswold noted the rare visits of two grosbeaks in the sporting page features for mid-March edition of 1921.

"In the cool of last Monday evening we were as delighted as we were fairly dumbfounded by the sight of several evening grosbeaks disporting themselves in the low evergreen trees which line the east border of our little bird haven - Turner park. While during the closing days of winter we saw an unusual number of the pine grosbeaks here, the evening grosbeaks were never in evidence until on the occasion above noted - a late period for them to be lingering this far south."

In December, the chickadee and woodpeckers were noted among the winter trees.

The following month, the pleasure of the birds were enjoyed during a hike in the park after an inch snowfall. All surfaces were covered, adding to the scene.

"Before I left I went down and over there, and the delicate tracery of their feet in the snow looked all the world as if some elfs had been writing their autographs on the untarnished scroll. Like the rabbit and the squirrel, these little feathered mites leave distinctive trails. The chickadee a reticulation of dainty hieroglyphics - the sparrows and the juncoes, a pair of tiny footprints at regular distances, one just before the other, and each doublet connected by a slender, almost invisible thread, beautifully traced by their sharp claws.

"And then, on my way home, two squirrels appeared on the snow covered ice of the skating pond, which looked like a pavement of alabaster, where in the moonlight elves and fairies might assemble for a nocturnal foxtrot.

"What long leaps they took, as they crossed the white expanses, as I advanced, until, reaching one of the big cottonwoods on the east shore. Up this they scurried, and from the security of a low crotch, snickered irascibly at the intrusion."

After the April arrival of some birds, their antics got noticed by the sporting editor. The Common Grackle got its own press words: "The good old fashioned grackle. Well, he is almost everywhere, made extremely conspicuous by his ebony plumage and loquacious inclinations. Several pair nest in the low cedar trees in Turner park and are the delight of all the children, because they permit so much familiarity. They are among the earliest incomers from the south in the spring, many arriving in late February, excepting when the winter has been uncommonly severe."

Results of a stroll through the park - "on a particularly crisp morning" - on the way to get a railcar ride downtown to the newspaper office were again the genesis of another Sunday nature column. Nuthatches were the special attraction this time for Griswold. The column was an essay on how to get acquainted with local birds in the October 1922 era.

Unusual sightings received their apt mention during the following years. A Yellow-bellied Sapsucker visited in December 1923. A Hermit Thrush was seen in February 1925. The Northern Flicker and "quite a number" of Pine Grosbeak were noted for November 1927.

For a Christmas holiday column during the time of giving, Griswold discussed the winter birds getting their season's meals at the window bird feeder. Visitors to the Lorraine Apartment house across the boulevard from the southern portion of the Turner Park area, included the Blue Jay, Downy and Hairy Woodpecker, and Northern Cardinal. The frigid call of the Eastern Screech-Owl was heard from over in the trees of the park.

Sandy Griswold scribed a particular message of views based on decades of Nebraska outings to wild places with a phantasmagoria of nature, including little Turner Park. Sandy's Creed "The love of nature born in me has had plenty of time for evolution. The ways and habits, cries and calls of the folk of the woods and fields, were my heritage, a part of my childhood, my whole early training. What I liked most was to be alone in the woods or open fields listening to their ceaseless voices, and the silent whisperings of my soul. "Rod and gun have been my boon companions in the years that have past, but the greater pleasure has been the communion with God's creatures enjoyed with open heart and hand. In this glorious state of ours, Nebraska, and in those round about it, this companionship has been most wonderful. "To hunt and fish are still my pleasure, but greater than these, is to seek, find cherish and protect them all -- the birds, the beasts, the flowers, the trees and creatures of the waters. These are OUR heritage, which now I pray I may help pass on to those who follow."

The final sporting editor mention of Turner Park birdlife was provided for readers in January 8, 1928. The column then had the general topic of "Leaves from the Notebook of an Old Nature Student." This particular version told of a sojourn through the park setting.

"What a treat, an early summer day in December. That is what last Sunday was. it was a day hard to resist. So the Boy called early and we went over and put in several hours in the park.

"While we had the usual good time prowling about, we saw but few birds, when we were sure we would see many. Too little cover in the park, and while we did see several sapsuckers, among which were three of the redbreasted - always a big find - quite a volley of chickadees, one lone bluejay, the same fellow that has been at our kitchen window sill ever since the late intense cold spell, where he has grown fat and sassy on the good things he never fails to find there; a pair of downies and a lone cardinal. That was about the sum total, save the ubiquitous sparrows and one or two little fellows we were not familiar with - probably late arrivals from the north."

Rather than converse about the birds, they talked of the trees. There was the wonder of the elms, and the "sylph-like" maples. There were the towering cottonwoods, and sycamores along the avenue were mentioned. It was an arboreal outing of education for the youngster.

The local city changes Griswold remarked about were underway during the final months as the sporting editors days were ending; last known article in February 1929. His press of memories for a lost era vividly indicate the constant change in the land and its cause in the decline of the wildbird variety at the park.

An interest in birds about Turner Park environs then languished. There are very few mentions of birds in the modern years.

Recorded in the June 2003, the breeding season were: American Robin, Barn Swallow, Black-capped Chickadee, Blue Jay, Chimney Swift, Common Grackle, Common Nighthawk, Downy Woodpecker, Eastern Kingbird, European Starling, Gray Catbird, House Finch, House Sparrow, Mourning Dove, Northern Cardinal and Northern Flicker.

Most of the shrub species occur among the foliage on the west and north side of Dewey Park. With Turner Park completely mown, the trees are the habitat for arboreal birds.

The American Crow and American Goldfinch have also been noted in the Turner Park/Dewey Park neighborhood.