Three flycatchers hunt in summer air

The air above the Southampton County woodlands carries the steady click and whistle of three flycatcher species, each claiming its own layer of the summer canopy. From the highest branches comes the sharp wheep call of the Great Crested Flycatcher, while the softer pee-a-wee of the Eastern Wood-Pewee drifts from the mid-story. Below, in the understory shadows, the Acadian Flycatcher gives its sharp pit-see from dense cover.

Each species has settled into a different hunting zone. The Great Crested Flycatcher takes the crown of the forest, launching from exposed dead branches to snatch beetles, wasps, and moths from the open air above the treeline. Its broad bill and powerful flight let it handle larger prey than its smaller relatives. The Eastern Wood-Pewee prefers the middle canopy, where it makes long sallies from favorite perches, returning often to the same branch after each hunt. Its diet runs heavily to flies, flying ants, and small beetles. The Acadian Flycatcher works the understory, darting upward from low perches to intercept insects rising from the forest floor or dropping down from higher branches.

This vertical separation becomes critical during breeding season, when each pair must capture enough flying insects to feed both themselves and their growing nestlings. A single brood of Great Crested Flycatcher young requires hundreds of insects daily. The parents hunt almost continuously during daylight hours, their beaks often bristling with the wings and legs of moths, flies, and beetles. The Wood-Pewee and Acadian Flycatcher face similar demands but with smaller prey items, requiring even more individual captures to meet their energy needs. The forest's summer insect abundance supports this intensity. Flying ants emerge from colonies in the leaf litter. Moths navigate between flowers in the canopy. Beetles move between feeding and breeding sites. Flies rise from decomposing matter on the forest floor. Each flycatcher species intercepts insects moving through its preferred air space, creating little overlap in their hunting territories despite sharing the same woodland.

The forest holds its breath between the sharp snaps of bills closing on wings. Each successful hunt registers as a brief pause in the calling, then the rhythm resumes. If you stand still beneath these trees, you can hear the soft thud of an insect meeting its end, the rustle of leaves as a bird returns to its perch, the almost immediate resumption of the hunt.