Seventeen years later, cicadas return to Cape Cod — and birds are stuffed

Many terns and gulls usually seen on Cape Cod beaches are still nesting in the Arctic. Meantime, those who are on the Cape are nesting in rooftop malls and buildings.

People picture the Cape’s beaches covered in gulls and maybe even terns and shorebirds, likely because their past visits were later in summer. As a result, someone arriving in June or even early July will be struck by how birdless the beaches are.

Last week I covered the Brood XIV 17-year cicadas and the birds that love them, but it turned out the birds weren’t quite done adding to this story.

The much-heralded Brood XIV 17-year cicadas have finally arrived. Have they been serenading you? If you’re in the emergence zone, this is really old news at this point, as they emerged weeks ago and most have probably laid eggs and kicked the bucket at this point. But how does this apparent bonanza affect birds?

For several years, I’ve had a mostly unoccupied screech-owl box on an oak tree in the narrow strip of woods in my backyard. I hung it about 14 feet up, positioned so we can see the hole from the house, and have monitored it expectantly ever since.

Back on Memorial Day, as we Harwich Fahertys discussed what to do, I coyly suggested a family hike with some Upper Cape friends of ours. But where?

This has been one of those rare weeks where enough happened to fuel several weeks of bird reports — a spring nor’easter that poured rare seabirds into Cape Cod Bay, a colony of at least five apparently nesting Swallow-tailed Kites in Mashpee that also shattered the state high count, and, most importantly, the cuteness overload of baby owls fledging in my very own yard.

Rebekah Ambrose was asking for help identifying a bird she photographed in Barnstable, and her photos showed the first-ever Anhinga for the Cape and Islands.

After a bleak winter, and a reluctant, rainy spring, we Cape and Islands year-rounders deserve a flowery and mild May.

While the turn of the calendar to May brings an avalanche of phenological change to yards and woods, maybe none is so obvious, and welcome, as the change in the morning soundscape.