suburban wildlife

Last summer, during cicada season, I saw my first ever Mississippi Kite(s).

Photo of a Mississippi Kite gliding overhead, passing just over and behind the obscuring branches of our young live oak tree. — *A Mississippi Kite entering the yard’s airspace. (July 30, 2025)*

(At least, I believe these birds were Mississippi Kites. I’m happy to be corrected, if I’ve mis-identified them. Please comment with confirmations or corrections!)

A mid-sized falcon-type bird (a Mississippi Kite) soars overhead, nearly silhouetted against a bright blue sky. The bird's feathers are shades of white and gray. It has long wings with irregular-length primaries, suggestive of some recent molting. The bird's white face has dark, deep-set eyes and a small, sharp beak. — *A Mississippi Kite soaring overhead. (August 4, 2025)*

Profile view of a Mississippi Kite. (July 24, 2025)

The cicada-season part is important.

I had been finding cicada wings in the yard with unusual frequency, and the riddle proved easy to solve. The kites were feasting on cicadas, catching and eating their meals mid-flight.

Grainy photo of a Mississippi Kite flying high overhead, grasping a cicada in the claws of its left foot. The bird's head is slightly bent toward its catch, preparing to eat. — *Just soaring past with a cicada in its claws. (July 30, 2025)*

Eating, but only after removing the wings.

Grainy photo of a Mississippi Kite flying high overhead, grasping a cicada in the claws of its left foot. The bird is reaching down with its head and beak, eating the cicada mid-flight. — *Everything but the wings, which got dropped in the yard. (July 30, 2025)*

Grainy photo of a Mississippi Kite flying overhead, eating a cicada that is clutched in the claws of its left foot. — *Over and over again. Cicada feast, underway. (July 30, 2025)*

The kites spent most of their time over a nearby row of pines, circling at tree-top height. I assume the cicadas were thickest there.

Grainy photo of a Mississippi Kite flying toward the camera. The bird's head is bent as it eats, mid-flight, a cicada that is grasped between its feet. — *Another capture, another pair of cicada wings drifting to the ground. (July 30, 2025)*

The crows, who favor this same row of pines for different reasons, had more than a few objections.

Photo of a crow chasing a Mississippi Kite. The crow is some distance behind the kite and appears larger in the frame than the kite. The crow's wings are fully extended and its beak is open, scolding as it flies. The kite's wings are also fully extended, primaries curved for soaring. The kite's primaries are of irregular length and its tail appears to be missing a feather, signs of recent molting. — *The bird version of a grumpy neighbor yelling “get off my lawn!” (July 30, 2025)*

I admit that today, as I post these photos, I’m surprised again by the relative sizes of the birds.

I’m accustomed to hawk and falcon visitors who are significantly (or, at least, noticeably) larger than crows. Seeing these crow-sized kites in-frame with the crows themselves, I start questioning my birding skills.

Photo of a crow flying toward a Mississippi Kite that is soaring overhead. The crow's mouth is open, scolding, and its feet are curling forward, as if readying to yank a few feathers. — *Pursuit mode, engaged. (July 30, 2025)*

Do I really know a crow from a raven? (The answer is, not really. I simply live in an area where crows are abundant and ravens are rare.)

Photo of a crow closing in on a Mississippi Kite, mid-air. The kite's wings are flexed upward, beginning a maneuver to dodge the crow. — *Is the crow really larger than the kite? (July 30, 2025)*

Do I know a falcon from a hawk? (Sadly, also no. But I’m working on it.)

Photo of a crow dropping toward a Mississippi Kite as both fly overhead, nearly silhouetted against a dark gray sky. The crow is above and behind the kite, and appears to be slightly larger than the kite—partly because the crows wings are fully extended, feathers spread, while the kite's wings are slightly tucked for maneuverability. The two birds' silhouettes are overlapping and merged, in this photo, due to close proximity and poor lighting. — *These photos definitely suggest that the crow is larger than the kite. (July 30, 2025)*

What I do know for certain is that the kites were faster in flight than the crows, and quicker in a turn. The wing-tip acrobatics were astonishing.

Photo of a crow approaching a Mississippi Kite, mid-air. The crow is closing in from behind and above the kite, while the kite appears to be unaware of the crow's approach. — *Looks like the crow has the advantage, here, doesn’t it? Sneaking up in a blind spot and closing fast. (July 30, 2025)*

Photo of a Mississippi Kite dodging a crow, mid-air. The kite's wings and tail feathers are angled for braking and climbing, while the crow's body position suggests a full-stop braking maneuver. — *Nope. (July 30, 2025)*

Photo of a crow chasing a Mississippi Kite against the background of a cloudy gray sky. The mid-air pursuit is climbing and banking slightly, both birds turning away from the camera. — *Never…*

Photo of a crow chasing a Mississippi Kite into a steep climb. The kite is looking up and sideways, preparing for a tight banking maneuver, while carrying a cicada clutched in its claws. — *had…*

Photo of a crow chasing a Mississippi Kite through a mid-air bank-and-loop maneuver. The kite has a cicada clutched in its claws. — a…

Photo of a Mississippi Kite evading a crow after a mid-air bank-and-roll maneuver. The kite has a cicada clutched in its claws. — *chance. (July 30, 2025)*

Photo of a Mississippi Kite evading a crow after a mid-air chase. The kite's head is swiveled around, eyeing the crow. — *Not only did the kite fly literal circles around the crow…*

Photo of a Mississippi Kite flying away from a crow after a mid-air chase. — *It held on to its cicada through the entire chase, then ate in front of the crow once it had gained enough distance.*

Photo of a Mississippi Kite gaining distance on a crow after a mid-air chase. — *Ready to circle back for more cicadas, while the crow was running short on fuel. (July 30, 2025)*

The air show lasted about a week, a daily spectacle of cicada-wing-rain and crow chaos.

I did wonder, occasionally, if the crows had designs on stealing the kites’ catches. It seemed unlikely, as I never saw any of the kites drop any of their cicadas. I suspect the crows were simply territorial, guarding flock-mates and resting spots against invaders that were all-too-clearly birds of prey.

Grainy photo of a Mississippi Kite captured mid-dive. The bird is facing directly ground-ward, its head angled to one side as it hunts cicadas. — *The light wasn’t great, on the 30th, and my camera skills were not up to the task. I ended up with a lot of grainy near-misses. (July 30, 2025)*

Photo of a Mississippi Kite flying overhead, clutching a cicada between its feet. The bird's silhouette is partially obscured by the blurry branches of a neighborhood tree. — *Partially blocked by branches, but you can still see the cicada. (July 30, 2025)*

Photo of a Mississippi Kite soaring overhead while dining on a cicada. The bird has stretched one foot forward, clutching the cicada in its claws, and curved its head down to reach the meal with its beak. — *The cicadas must have been extra perfect, because the kites mostly ignored all of the crow commotion. (July 30, 2025)*

Photo of a Mississippi Kite banking into a turn while dining on a cicada, mid-flight. The bird has stretched one foot forward, holding the cicada clutched in its claws, and curved its head and neck down, reaching for the cicada with its beak. — *Just need to get the wings off, then it’s snack time!*

By August 1, when the light conditions improved dramatically, the cicada feast had ended. I managed to catch a few fly-over images, but then the kites moved on.

Photo of a Mississippi Kite soaring overhead against a background of bright blue sky. — *Nicer light, but poorer hunting. (August 1, 2025)*

Photo of a Mississippi Kite swerving into a steep bank-and-turn against a background of bright blue sky. The bird is completely sideways in frame, legs partly extended and wings tightly tucked as it swerves. — *Time to hunt cicadas somewhere else. (August 1, 2025)*

The crows finally had a day off, and I quit finding cicada wings in the yard.

Maybe the kites will return, this year, and put on another show. If they do, I’ll let you know.

Photo of a Mississippi Kite soaring overhead against a background of light blue sky. The bird is in a relaxed soaring position—wings extended, tail feathers spread, and eyes focused forward. — *Mississippi Kite folder, headed for the archive. (July 24, 2025)*

Alternate title: Interrupting the Mallard series for desktop-clearing updates from the yard.

Photo of an adult Tufted Titmouse flying away from its nest box. The small bird is captured mid-flight, wings at full down-stroke, primary feathers fully spread. Most of the bird's feathers are silvery-gray, with very pale (almost white) coloration on its face, throat, chest, and abdomen. Its beak and eyes are black, and it has a prominent patch of black facial feathers from brow to beak. The nestbox is made of wood with the front panel and roof panels painted white. The wood just around the round entry hole is unpainted. The box is secured in a crepe myrtle tree by lengths of decorative black chain. — *The yard has always enjoyed regular Tufted Titmouse traffic, but none have stopped to nest. Until now. Photo taken April 30, 2026.*

Opening exposition: Blogging while OCD

My desktop is too full for software updates. Which is just ridiculous.

During all these months (yes, going on years) of Mallard perseveration, of following OCD currents deep into the Mallard Mine, other subjects have wandered into camera-focus. Folder after folder has sprouted on my desktop, but I wanted to finish the Mallard series before posting anything else.

Except, “wanted to finish” isn’t quite accurate.

My particular OCD came with a complimentary overstock of unfinished-task discomfort, so “wanted to finish” really means “wanted to stay comfortable”. Especially in my freest of free time—my creativity and blogging time.

And yet here I sit, eight Mallard posts in and unknown Mallard posts to go, dealing with an uncomfortable case of “wanted to finish” vs. “not enough memory”.

Discomfort upgrade, unlocked.

Fortunately, our improvised Tufted Titmouse nest box stepped in with a throat-clearing opportunity.

My next several posts are Project Desktop Decongestion.

Zoom photograph of the nestbox's round entry hole. Visible against the dark cavity inside the nest box, two nestlings are crowded into the entry. One is begging, open-mouthed, flashing the bright yellow edges of its beak against the redness of its gape. (These yellow-bordered red gapes, present in many species of birds as nestlings and fledglings, make conspicuous targets for parent birds, when they come to feed.) The other nestling is peering over the edge of the entry hole, closed beak and forehead barely in view. — *These two nestlings aptly represent my OCD quirks vying for attention at psyche’s doorway. Loud, conspicuous, and effectively blocking traffic both ways.*

Inviting the Titmouse Family

I have just enough woodworking skills and resources to support a recurring nest box habit. I usually make wren boxes, because they don’t require detailed joinery work and they don’t take much wood. Plus, I like wrens and chickadees.

When a Tufted Titmouse pair made repeated visits to a wren box in our front yard, this spring, their interest sparked my interest. The wren box was too small, and the Titmice (Titmouses?) were too appealing to ignore.

I spent a morning patching together scraps of cedar and pine, trying to meet the internet’s recommended dimensions for Tufted Titmouse nest boxes. Essentially, a box at least 8″ high, with a minimum 4×4″ floor, and a 1.25″ entry hole that is 6″ above the nest box floor.

(Please pardon the odd paint job, in these photos and videos. I ran out of cedar before cutting the front and roof panels, so I used pine. But the pine wanted paint, so I painted the pine bits. Except right around the entry hole, which I left bare because I didn’t want the birds dealing with paint flecks coming off on their feathers and toes.)

When I placed the new box in the wren box location (no wrens had shown up, so the wren box was vacant), the Titmouse couple moved right in. And, despite the nest box’s improvised materials and measurements, it soon housed nestlings.

Video of the entry hole of a Tufted Titmouse nest box. (Please pardon the shaky hand-hold camera work. Maybe don’t watch too closely if you are prone to motion sickness….) Audio is the nestlings inside the box calling for attention. Video taken May 3, 2026.

The parent birds were very secretive, in their visits, and tended to stay away if I lurked in the yard with my camera. So there aren’t many photos.

Photo of an adult Tufted Titmouse exiting the nest box. The bird is carrying a packet of nestling excretions away from the nest, which is a regular part of nest housekeeping for many bird species. — *A quick dash in and out, to deliver food and carry away a packet of excrement. Photo taken April 30, 2026.*

After a stretch of increasing clamor and activity, we woke one morning to an empty nestbox. The family had fledged and moved on. The yard’s first Tufted Titmouse nest had come and gone, leaving me happy and wistful, as is my usual reaction to the yard’s various fledgings.

Second Chances

We noticed more activity around the box within weeks. And soon there were fresh voices calling for food.

These parents were not so secretive. They made regular visits to the box, even when we were in the yard. Occasionally, if we ventured too close to the box, they scolded from nearby trees (as you can hear at the end of the next video), but they didn’t seem to mind polite observation from zoom-distance.

Zoom photograph of an adult Tufted Titmouse perched on a crepe myrtle branch over its nest box. The small bird is looking at the camera with one eye, beak open and feathers slightly ruffled. Its gray crest is flattened almost completely to its crown, the peak barely visible over its nape. Its feathers are gray over its wings and back, with a smudge of orange under the wings, and pale tan from its throat down to its chest and abdomen. Pale feathers cover its cheek between beak and eye, and there is a badge of darker feathers on its forehead. Its sharp beak is black, and its thin legs are gray. — *Too busy feeding the nestlings to worry about paparazzi. Photo taken June 27, 2026.*

I wish that I had the ear power to separate out the voices, so I could know how many nestlings were in the box. They sounded like a crowd. Disclaimer: I didn’t realize the adult bird was in the box, when I started filming. Video taken June 21, 2026.

When the nestlings began peeking through the entry hole, I spent a great deal of time lurking in zoom-distance.

Zoom photograph of a Tufted Titmouse nestling peering out of the entry hole of its nest box. The nestling's face is framed in the entry hole. It has gray down and feathers, and its beak has the prominent down-turned yellow margin at the corners of its mouth that are typical of many bird species' nestlings. The downturned mouth and fluffed down/feathers make the young bird appear grumpy. — *Tufted Titmouse baby is not amused by what it sees outside its door. Photo taken June 26, 2026.*

Zoom photograph of a Tufted Titmouse nestling peering out of the entry hole of its nest box. The nestling is looking upward, showing the downy light-gray feathers of its throat and chest. A hint of downy topknot is just visible. Its beak has prominent yellow margins at the downturned corners that make it appear to be frowning. — *I can’t help reading human emotions into these expressions. The nestlings looked so very grumpy. And a tiny bit pitiful. Definitely a face that is impossible to resist. June 26, 2026.*

Zoom photograph of a Tufted Titmouse nestling leaning out of the entry hole of its nest box. The nestling's downy crest is partially raised, adding emphasis to its seemingly grumpy expression. Its crest and dorsal feathers/down are dark gray, while its throat and chest feathers/down are light gray. Its black beak has prominent yellow margins at the downturned corner, making the young bird appear to be frowning. — *And there it is..the downy nestling-version of a Tufted Titmouse crest. June 26, 2026.*

Imagination’s Voiceovers

Am I the only one who imagines dialogues, for the interactions in my yard?

On the evening of the 26th, the nestlings were shouting from the entry hole as their parents foraged in nearby trees. What I actually heard was, most likely, nestling begging and adult reassurances. But what I imagined was children who wanted to get out of bed and parents who answered no, not tonight, not now, we’ll fledge some other day…

Video of a Tufted Titmouse nestling calling from the entry hole of its nest box. Audio includes the nestling’s calls, as well as answering calls from adult birds foraging in nearby trees. Video taken June 26, 2026.

By June 27th, the nestlings were leaping into the nest box entrance to feed. Competition seemed stiff, with two and sometimes three nestlings scuffling over the prime spot.

I caught a few feeding sequences, but the following sparked voiceover mode. (With apologies to The Little Shop of Horrors, A Fish Called Wanda, and Another Brick in the Wall.)