Tails of Birding

Road Salt

2012-02-01T06:00:00.003-05:00

White-winged Crossbills often become
"intoxicated" on road salt

Not long ago a friend arrived late for a community supper. The reason she gave for being late was received by some in the group as far-fetched, but they acknowledged that it was a creative and original excuse. She said, “I was coming down Newfane Hill and there were a couple of White-winged Crossbills in the middle of the road. They must have been intoxicated with salt because they wouldn’t move, so I had to get out of the car and make them move.” When I came soberly to her defense, it was then suggested that perhaps I had the same problem as the birds.

Intoxicated is not precisely correct, but it is close enough. Crossbills have a fondness for salt, and (according to Forbush) they will eat almost anything that is well-salted. Along our winter roadways, they can get their salt along with a dietary essential - dirt and grit. But too much salt can produce listlessness leading to mortality. That is, the birds don’t feel like moving and get run over, unless the approaching driver has a greater concern for the birds than getting somewhere on time - and there don’t seem to be too many drivers like that on our roads.

This opens a couple of doors on bird biology. Birds lack teeth and have little sense of taste, and so tend to swallow their food whole. Their stomachs have two parts, one with digestive juices which act similar to the human stomach and a second, large stomach known as the gizzard. The tough hard muscular walls of the gizzard, aided by swallowed sand and dirt, serve the function performed by human teeth, grinding and pulverizing solid substances such as seeds. Those flocks of finches and juncos which we see along our roadways in the winter are eating dirt - they are ingesting the grit necessary to enable the gizzard to “chew” the seeds which they swallow whole.

Coincidentally, they are also getting a good bit of salt as well, and this can present a problem for the birds. Human kidneys are not very effective at flushing salt from our system; it requires lots of fresh water. Those old mariners set adrift on oceans of salt water died of thirst: “water, water everywhere, and not a drop to drink.” If they drank the salt water, their kidneys would dehydrate the rest of the body to flush the salt.

The "tubenose" of pelagic birds, like Cory's Shearwater,
is visible evidence of the salt gland
which secrets salt from species which live on salt water

Bird kidneys are even less effective in dealing with excess salt than are human kidneys. However, sea birds will often spend months far removed from any fresh water and must drink sea water. How do they manage? They manage through a special gland located in the skull over and/or in front of the eyeholes and connected to the nasal opening by a duct. It is called the salt gland. The salt gland removes salt from the bloodstream and then secretes it in a highly concentrated form through the nostrils. The head shaking seen in some oceanic birds is done to expel this saline solution. Salt glands are larger and more developed among seabirds than land birds. Birds we are most likely to see with developed salt glands include gulls, terns, sea-going ducks (eiders), geese, coots, and rails.

Savannah Sparrow in a NJ salt marsh

The salt glands is present in songbirds (passerines) but is not functional unless the birds are regularly exposed to salt. The subspecies of the Savannah Sparrow which lives in salt marshes is able to secrete 2-3 times as much salt as other subspecies which live in salt-free habitats.

So why are the crossbills so fond of salt? I have no idea! The Birder’s Handbook simply notes under “Diet” that White-winged Crossbills are fond of salt, and then adds cyrptically: “Fondness for road salt produces occasional heavy mortality as listless birds are run over.” Too much salt is toxic, and so the birds are “intoxicated,” just as my friend said when explaining her tardiness. I guess we might say that salt is to crossbills what alcohol is to some humans; some individuals don’t know when they’ve had enough.

Good Birding!!

Link to additional information on "Birds and Salt"

Dabblers Take Flight - Case Study 2

2012-01-29T06:00:00.006-05:00

The dabbling ducks (Genus Anas) are inhabitants of marshes, ponds, and small lakes. These habitats often are thick and tangled. When danger comes, they have to get up and out quickly. They leap into the air - virtually straight up - and then get going.

When any of these birds take flight, it happens so fast that we can easily miss the details.

This case study is from a burst of five photographs taken in less than one second. The Northern Pintails (hens) are the two in the center and cropped from the five photos.

Photo 1 - Mallard and 3 Northern Pintails take flight

Photo 1 - Northern Pintails

Photo 2 - Northern Pintails

Photo 3 - Northern Pintails

Photo 4 - Northern Pintails

Photo 5 - Northern Pintails

... and then they were gone in a blur ...

Good Birding!!

Dabblers Take Flight - Case Study 1

2012-01-26T06:00:00.005-05:00

The dabbling ducks (Genus Anas) are inhabitants of marshes, ponds, and small lakes. These habitats often are thick and tangled. When danger comes, they have to get up and out quickly. They leap into the air - virtually straight up - and then get going.

When any of these birds take flight, it happens so fast that we can easily miss the details.

This case study is from a burst of five photographs taken in less than one second. The Mallard (drake) is cropped from the five photos.

Photo 1 (uncropped ) - Mallard & 3 Northern Pintails take flight

Photo 1 - Mallard

Photo 2 - Mallard

Photo 3 - Mallard

Photo 4 - Mallard

Photo 5 - Mallard

... and then he was gone in a blur ...

Good Birding!!

Dabblers Take Flight

2012-01-23T06:00:00.003-05:00

The dabbling ducks (Genus Anas) are inhabitants of marshes, ponds, and small lakes. These habitats often are thick and tangled. When danger comes, they have to get up and out quickly. They leap into the air - virtually straight up - and then get going.

Taking flight in this manner is very different from almost all other other waterfowl, which need a running start - often a very long running start.

When any of these birds take flight, it happens so fast that we can easily miss the details. My photography is a relatively new addition to my birding (about 6 years - less than 3 with good equipment). Freezing the moment with the camera has allowed me to see the detail and to learn - plus, it's fun!

This first photograph captures dabbling ducks as they "leap" into flight. In subsequent posts, I will have details from a burst of photos. This is the first in that burst.

Mallard (drake) and 3 Northern Pintails (females) "leap" from the water's surface

In the next photo, a Gadwall is in the air, while American Coots are just beginning to "run" on the water's surface in order to gather enough speed to get airborne.

A Gadwall "leaps" into flight while American Coots "run" to take flight

The mixed flock of Green-winged Teal and Northern Pintail are on the wing. The American Coot (lower left) is still running, not quite airborne. Note the splashes from the coot's feet.

Green-winged Teal and Northern Pintail - American Coot lower left

To illustrate the contrast with the dabblers, next are two photographs of mergansers. Mergansers are adept divers with legs located toward the rear of the body to assist as they swim underwater; this also makes them very awkward on land. When taking off, they need room to run ...

Common Mergansers (hens)

Hood Merganser (hen)

Where dabblers leap into the air, American Coots patter across the water, flapping furiously in the effort to get airborne. They are tough, adaptable, and common - and thoroughly entertaining. Watching them take flight, or watching them doing whatever they may be doing, will explain the origin of such phrases as - "He is crazy as a coot." - or - "He's a crazy old coot." (This last saying is one I am beginning to find offensive.)

American Coot

More on dabblers leaping into the air in a few days.

Good Birding!

Bottoms-up - ID Post 3

2012-01-21T12:00:00.017-05:00

No. 13 - Mallard

No. 14 - Blue-winged Teal

No. 15 - Northern Pintail

No. 16 - Canada Goose

No. 17 - Gadwall - background, American Coot

No. 18 - Green-winged Teal

No. 19 - Northern Shoveler - background, Northern Pintail

Dabblers - Bottoms Up - Post 3

2012-01-19T12:00:00.002-05:00

(See Post 1 for hints)

Bottoms-up No. 13

Bottoms-up No. 14

Bottoms-up No. 15

Bottoms-up No. 16

Bottoms-up _ No. 17

Bottoms-up No. 18

Bottoms-up N0. 19 (Bonus for IDing ducks in background)

Good Birding!!

Bottoms-up - ID Post 2

2012-01-17T12:00:00.003-05:00

No. 7 - Northern Pintail - not as much pintail as when he ready for courtship and breeding

No. 8 - Northern Shoveler

No. 9 - Blue-winged Teal

No. 10 - Canada Goose

No. 11 - Gadwall

No. 12 - Mallard - (default duck)

Dabblers - Bottoms Up - Post 2

2012-01-15T12:00:00.001-05:00

Note: See Post 1 for some hints.

Bottoms-up No. 7

Bottoms-up No. 8

Bottoms-up No. 9

Bottoms-up No. 10

Bottoms-up No 11

Bottoms-up No. 12

Good Birding!

Bottoms-up - ID Post 1

2012-01-13T12:00:00.001-05:00

No. 1 - Gadwall

No. 2 - Green-winged Teal

No. 3 - Mallard (I love the curls on his tail!)

No. 4 - Mute Swan

No. 5 - Northern Pintail - note on these breeding plumage males the long "pintail"

No. 6 - Northern Shoveler

Dabblers - Bottoms Up - Post 1

2012-01-11T12:00:00.001-05:00

Continuing with the dabbler theme, we move now to the just the duck tail end. These are IDs which are easier in the field, because eventually the ducks have to come up for air.

If you view this post as a "test," then there are two hints that should be given:

1) I have no photos of American Black Duck, American Widgeon, or Mottled Duck in the bottoms-up pose, and as noted in a previous post, no photos of the Cinnamon Teal. So from the Genus Anas, these ducks can be skipped.

2) Just for the fun of it, I have included two non-ducks in these posts on Bottoms-up.

Bottoms-up No. 1

Bottoms-up No. 2

Bottoms-up No. 3

Bottoms-up No. 4

Bottoms-up No. 5

Bottoms-up No. 6

Good Birding!!

Winter Coastal Birding

2012-01-09T12:00:00.005-05:00

The winter coastal birding this past weekend produced a total of 54 species over three days, with a number of quite rare and sought after birds.

Sunday in Newburyport, I added a life bird with the way-out-of-range Cassin's Kingbird which has been present for several weeks. Good looks, but the photos, while recognizable, are not any which I care to post.

Other highlights included King Eider, Common Murre, Razorbill, Snowy Owl, and Rough-legged Hawk, all distant birds with no photo opportunities.

Saturday I guided a group from Southeastern Audubon, so did no photography. Friday and Sunday were unusual for the coast in winter - sunny, mild, great light (I love the rich, low light during the winter, but it is not a common commodity).

Here are a few photo samples ...

Common Eider

Red-breasted Merganser

Dunlin among Sanderlings (roosting at Halibut Point)

Purple Sandpiper

Cooper's Hawk

Surf Scoter - female (c), 3 males, 2 1st year males (top r)

Good Birding!

CBC Shows Trends in Winter Bird Populations

2012-01-07T06:00:00.015-05:00

This post appeared in "The Commons," January 4, 2012

CHRISTMAS BIRD COUNT - A Citizen Science Project

On a cold Saturday in December, cars crept along the dirt roads of Windham County. Periodically they disgorged their occupants. Bundled against the cold, these people then craned necks as they studied the tree tops. They peered into thickets, stared at corn fields, and searched ponds and rivers. They were doing the Christmas Bird Count.


Black-capped Chickadee

It was the 112th Annual Christmas Bird Count (CBC). Sponsored by Cornell Lab of Ornithology and National Audubon Society, the CBC engages over 60,000 people in citizen science between December 14 and January 5. They count birds in over 2200 areas in 107 countries. Most of these areas are in North America where early winter weather can vary in any location from the delightful to the gosh-awful.

It all started in 1900. Back then it was customary for the “gentry” to choose teams and spend a day out-of-doors shooting at anything and everything that moved. The winning team was the one which could produce the most dead birds (or any other animals) at the end of the day. Frank Chapman thought there might be an alternative for this time of wildlife slaughter; he organized a Christmas bird count. Chapman was Curator of Birds at the American Museum of Natural History, editor of Bird-Lore magazine, and a founder of National Audubon Society.

The first CBC involved 27 people in 25 locations. 36 species were reported from Pacific Grove, California, the largest list of birds. Chapman himself had the second largest list; he reported eighteen species from Englewood, New Jersey. Today, the species count from Pacific Grove exceeds 170 species, and from Englewood the count exceeds 70 species. Last year in the United States, 646 species were tallied on CBCs, plus an additional 45 field-identifiable forms.

American Redstart - first record for Brattleboro Area CBC

The first CBC in the Brattleboro area was done in 1903. Eight species were reported: Downy Woodpecker, 2; chickadee (presumably the Black-capped), 18; Red-breasted Nuthatch, 1; White-breasted Nuthatch, 8; Brown Creeper 4; Golden-crowned Kinglet, 4; White-throated Sparrow, 2; and American Tree Sparrow, 2.

The Brattleboro area did not participate again until 1948 when sixteen species were reported. In 1949, fourteen species were reported, and in 1953, eighteen species. The regular participation of Brattleboro area bird watchers in the CBC did not begin until 1963, but since then (with the exception of 1965 and 1969), Brattleboro area has participated every year. During the 1960s, the Brattleboro area averaged 30 birds. The average has increased steadily in the decades since: 1970s, 34; 1980s, 39; 1990s, 40. Since 2000, the average has been 56. This year at the end of the count day, the species tally for Brattleboro was 56. In nearby Bellows Falls, 64 species were observed.

The increase in the number of species can be accounted for, in part, by the growing popularity of bird watching and by the increased skill of the watchers. More skilled birders are going to find more species of birds.

Canada Geese on Retreat Meadows

But there are also other factors which account for the growing number of species being seen. All of the early Brattleboro counts were virtually lacking in waterfowl. Not until the early 1990s do ducks and geese begin to appear regularly. The most significant change in the records are for Canada Geese. Wildlife management and protection programs have been so successful that the population of the Canada Goose has burgeoned, to the point where some birders now refer to these geese as “pond starlings.”

Waterfowl need open water. When freezing temperatures come early and close the waters of the Retreat Meadows and Connecticut River, the number and variety of waterfowl is low. The lack of waterfowl reports from the mid-1960s through the 1980s suggests that during these years December was colder and winter came early. This year, with open water, there were over 500 Canada Geese counted in the Brattleboro area and over 1000 in Bellows Falls.

Through early December, many people remarked about the lack of birds at their feeders. The Brattleboro CBC confirmed this. The number of traditional feeder birds, such as chickadees and nuthatches was lower, but not unusually so. These birds were not seen at feeders. On several occasions, I heard a low chip. I “phished” loud and long, and soon the chickadees hurried over to investigate, along with companions such as Downy Woodpecker, a nuthatch or Tree Sparrow or cardinal.

Dark-eyed Junco

On one occasion, the forest floor was alive with the movement of Dark-eyed Juncos. I eventually wrote down 60 juncos, but the number could easily have been 2 or 3 times that. They were feeding in the leaf litter. They were not ground scratching around bird feeders. The same was true for goldfinches. Our team saw several significant flocks, feeding in trees and fields, but only a rare goldfinch or two at a feeder. Often as we searched thickets, we remarked on the number of fruits and berries on trees, bushes, and vines. In other words, it appears that there is plenty of natural food available, so the “feeder” birds do not have to visit feeders so often, or at all.

While it often seemed that we had to search hard for birds to count, by the end of the day our count numbers were within the expected ranges. There were a couple of exceptions. Brattleboro CBC did not record a single Wild Turkey, but then, why should the turkeys come out of the woods if there is plenty of food in the woods? (It was recorded during count week.) Junco and goldfinch numbers were the highest recorded on a Brattleboro CBC. Bellows Falls also recorded unusually high numbers for these species.

Snowy Owl - first record for Brattleboro area CBC

An exciting aspect of the CBC are the first sightings that occasionally occur. This year Brattleboro had two. The Snowy Owl which was first seen near the West River in Brattleboro on December 2, and later photographed December 11 atop the chimney of New England Youth Theater, stayed around for a sighting during the count week, a first record. Also recorded on the count day was an American Redstart, juvenile or female, visiting a feeder in Brattleboro.

A scientist might describe the data collection of the citizens on a CBC as a bit “loosy-goosy.” The counting is often imprecise guess-timates. Nevertheless, the CBC gives a snapshot of what is where and from accumulated data over a span of years, patterns emerge.

For example, the northward expansion and established year-round presence of southern species is evident in the CBC records: Northern Cardinal, Tufted Titmouse, Northern Mockingbird, and Carolina Wren.

Red-bellied Woodpecker

The Red-bellied Woodpecker was recorded sporadically is the mid to late 1990s. The first recorded nesting in Vermont occurred in Brattleboro in 2001. In the Brattleboro area there has been a slow but steady increase in the number and distribution of this southern woodpecker during the last ten years and that is reflected in the CBC numbers.

The Bald Eagle, absent on CBCs prior to 2002, is now consistently observed. The breeding pair in the vicinity of the Vernon Dam have open water through the winter in which to fish, and remain on territory. With a pair now nesting north of Bellows Falls, the eagle is also being recorded regularly on the CBC in that area.

The Common Raven was silent 50 years ago in the West River Valley and surrounding hills. It reappeared on CBCs in the early 80s; the presence of the resident ravens is dependably heard in their “cur-ruk, cur-ruk.”

Eastern Bluebird

Eastern Bluebird was absent from the Brattleboro CBC until 1992. Since 1998, this species has been recorded every year on the count, and this year the Brattleboro CBC counted a record number. The bluebird is not common during the winter, but no one should be surprised to see a bluebird during any month.

Finally - American Robin. People are often surprised to see the robin in winter. Don’t be. They are present on the CBC every year. Bellows Falls had a record number at 602. Brattleboro counted 99, not a record, but close to it. The robin may be seen during any month of the year.

For all readers worried about a lack of birds at the bird feeders, I say, “Don’t be.” The CBC suggests that the birds are still around, but there is plenty of natural food available. I’m sure they will be back. Except when humans really screw up the environment, the birds are resilient and adaptable. Their population numbers go through regular and natural fluctuations. Once the counters on a CBC thaw out and examine the count numbers, this is confirmed (for most species) year after year.

Stay warm, and if the birds don’t come to your feeders, go out and look for them. Good birding!!

Favorite Photos of 2011 - 2

2012-01-05T06:00:00.004-05:00

Just one more installment of favorite photos from 2011, then I will return to the dabblers ...

Blackburnian Warbler - June, Green Mountain NF, Somerset, VT

Lark Sparrow - June, Badlands NP, South Dakota

Mourning Warbler - late May, Putney Mountain Road, Brookline, VT

Painted Bunting - late February, Okeeheelee Park Nature Center, Florida

Ruby-crowned Kinglet - late October, Cape May Point State Park, New Jersey

Snowy Owl - December, Brattleboro, VT

Western Meadowlark - late June, Badlands NP, South Dakota

Good Birding!!

Favorite Photos of 2011

2012-01-02T17:00:00.003-05:00

Happy New Year!!

A new year has begun, but I am still looking back on the old year. While it often seemed that birding and photography got swamped by other things -such as a hurricane :( - when I look back I realize that I had many good trips and good opportunities for both. Here is a first sampling of a few of my personal favorite photos from 2011.

Green Heron - late February, Wakodahatchee Wetlands, Florida

Olive-throated Parakeet - March, Tikal, Guatemala

Golden-crowned Kinglet - November, Heinz NWR, Philadelphia, PA

Ruby-throated Hummingbird - July, my backyard, South Newfane, VT

Yellow Warbler - June, wetlands along Connecticut River, Hinsdale, NH

Bohemian Waxwing - mid-February, Putney School, Putney, VT

Tricolored Heron - late February, Green Cay Wetlands, Florida

Roadside Hawk - March, Hopkins, Belize

More soon. Hope you have good birding in 2012.

Dabbler ID for #4

2012-01-01T12:00:00.007-05:00

Happy New Year!!

Keeping things simple today, in case your mind is still fogged from partying. Just straightforward IDs.

#16 - Gadwall, female

#17 - Green-winged Teal, females

Green-winged Teal - male and female

#18 - Blue-winged Teal, non-breeding adult male

#19 - Northern Shoveler, non-breeding male

Northern Shoveler - non-breeding male, and male

#20 - Northern Pintail, female

Northern Pintail, male and female

Good Birding!!

Dabbler Quiz #4

2011-12-30T06:00:00.005-05:00

Five more variations on the dabblers who are not handsome drakes ...

Dabbler #16

Dabbler #17

Dabbler #18

Dabbler #19

Dabbler #20

Good Birding!!

Dabbler ID for #3

2011-12-28T12:00:00.001-05:00

#11 - Blue-winged Teal, female - dark eye line, spots of white about the eye, white at base of dark beak. For the quiz, she was cropped out of the next photo. It's clear why attention goes to the male - an elegant bird.

Blue-winged Teal, male and female

#12 - Mallard, female - Yellow beak with black on top, yellow legs, dark eye stripe, overall brown mottled. Blue speculum.

#13 - Northern Shoveler, young male - yellow eye and dark beak suggest a young male, though the plumage looks a lot like that of a female.

#14 - American Black Duck

#15 American Widgeon, female - Like the teal above, when the female widgeon is in the presence of a male, he takes the attention away from her, as the next photo shows ...

American Widgeon - male and female

Good Birding!

Dabbler Quiz #3

2011-12-26T18:00:00.003-05:00

There is not much to go on with the first photo. Drake dabblers are handsome creatures and draw most of the attention. But there is enough ... perhaps ...

Dabbler #11

Coots do have a way of inserting themselves into all manner of photos, but it is the duck in front that asks for ID ...

Dabbler #12

Mixed clues in this one, perhaps? ...

Dabbler #13

Dabbler #14

Dabbler #15

Good Birding!!

2011-12-24T12:00:00.002-05:00

Dabbler ID for #2

2011-12-22T18:00:00.003-05:00

#6 - American Black Duck - probably a female with her dirty green beak. Dark eyeline, head and body dark - a female Mallard in gothic dress

#7 - Blue-winged Teal - the give-away head of this preening male is hidden, as is the dark bill, but the blue wing should be all the clue that is needed. Note yellow legs.

#8 - Gadwall, female - She has an orange bill with dark on top, barely a suggestion of an eyeline, a hint of the white speculum, a generally plain brown head and body, and a sweet look.

#9 - Mottled Duck - prominent eyeline like a female Mallard, but a much lighter, gray head, no black on top of bill. The close relationship to Mallard and black duck is evident in this Florida and southern species.

#10 - Northern Pintail, female - no sinuous neck on this hen, but the rather uniform brown head is the clue to her identity, plus mottled body and dark beak.

Gadwall hen being attended to by two drakes

Dabbler Quiz #2

2011-12-20T12:00:00.002-05:00

Can you identify these dabbling ducks (Genus Anas)? Putting together these exercises is a good exercise for me. I hope they are of some help, or interest, to you.

Dabbler #6

Dabbler #7

Dabbler #8

Dabbler #9

Dabbler #10

Dabbler ID for #1

2011-12-18T00:00:00.002-05:00

#1 - Northern Pintail - female. I love the pintail's sinuous neck. Add to that the gray beak and gray legs (mud covered in this photo), brown head, mottled body.

#2 - Green Winged Teal - female. When she is by herself, her small size may be hard to judge. A characteristic often sited is a steep forehead, but that is not so apparent in this photo. The green speculum which gives this species its name is visible in this photo, but it is hidden as often as it is visible and is not a dependable field mark. Short dark beak, gray legs, indistinct eye line, and a sort-of brown-gray head.

#3 - American Widgeon, female. Round grayish head, steep forehead (often with dark eye patch), light gray beak with black tip, less mottled, "smoother" sides than other female ducks.

#4 - Mallard, female. Default female dabbler. Orange legs and orange beak with dark patch on top. Evenly mottled brown body, light brown head and neck. Distinct eye stripe.

#5 - Northern Shoveler, female. In beak size, this is the daffy duck of the duck world. It's not all nose, but if it were, Jimmy Durante and Cyrano deBergerac would eat their hearts out. In spite of the size, the large beak is not always apparent at a distance, although it does give a profile that is different from other dabblers. Orange legs, orange beak with black on top, brown head (no eye stripe).

Often the females can be readily identified by the company they keep - namely, that of a male companion. The problem comes in pulling your attention away from her dashing companion to study her, which is why it can take so long to learn the females. Remember that her drab appearance camouflage's her when she is on the nest and protecting her young.

Dabbler #1, the Northern Pintail female was cropped out of the next photo. I suspect that the eye of the typical viewer will be drawn to her handsome mate nearby, and except for her rather unusual stance in the photo, she will go unnoticed. That's the point ...

Northern Pintail - female (l) and male (r)

Dabbler Quiz #1

2011-12-16T09:00:00.002-05:00

Most dabbler duck males (also known as the puddle ducks - Genus Anas) are handsome, elegant, and unmistakable. The female - not so much so. They are plain and drab. They carry the incubation responsibility and most of the shepherding of the young responsibility, so being inconspicuous is a distinct advantage for their survival and that of their young.

To say that the hens are confusing is to state the obvious. As I searched my photo files, I found several that were in the wrong species file - misfiled either in haste, inattention, or (I am embarrassed to suggest) mis-identification.

Most of the photos in these quizzes (this is the first of several) will be of hens. For a few species, the males and females are all but indistinguishable. Respond if you would like. I learn by doing this; I hope you do too.

And of course, on the answer post - if you think I have gotten an ID wrong, please let me know. Good Dabbling!


Dabbler ID #1

Dabbler ID #2

Dabbler ID #3

Dabbler ID #4

Dabbler ID #5

Repost Purple Sandpiper

2011-12-14T21:13:00.000-05:00

I am reposting the photos of the Purple Sandpiper. Blake Mathys very graciously asked if there might be Dunlin among the Purple Sandpipers. In an email he identified 2 in the first photo and a couple of other possibles in the second photo. I examined both photos in their original unreduced size. I agree with his IDs, and I think I have found additional Dunlin, as indicated by the numbered bubbles. Dunlin have a dark bill, slight downward curve, lighter about the head and body, lighter head, black legs. Sanderlings (which I have not found in these photos) are overall lighter than Dunlin.

But please weigh in - shorebird identification is an acquired skill, and I still have much to acquire. In flight they are also tough, even when frozen by a camera lens and with shorebird guides at the elbow.

Purple Sandpiper - Ruddy Turnstone (top left), Dunlin indicated by numbered bubbles.

Part of a 4th Dunlin is at bottom of photo between 2 and 3

Purple Sandpiper with Dunlin (numbered bubbles)

Coastal Interlude

2011-12-14T07:23:00.000-05:00

Dabbler series will continue, but an interlude first: a day trip to Cape Ann ...

Bufflehead (Gloucester Harbor)

Harlequin Duck (Granite Pier)

Purple Sandpiper - Ruddy Turnstone (top left)

Purple Sandpiper (Andrew's Point)

Harlequin Duck (Andrew's Point)

Iceland Gull (Niles Pond)

Good Birding!!

Owls - Masters of the Night

2011-12-13T06:00:00.001-05:00

Athenian tetradrachama, 5th cen. B.C.

Owls are birds of the night. Their nocturnal vigilance was often associated with the studious scholar or the wise elder and made them symbols of wisdom and learning. The Greek goddess of wisdom and learning was Athena; one of her symbols was the owl. The ancient coins of Athens carried the image of an owl as a sign of the patron goddess who vigilantly watched over the city. The owl was the Little Owl; in an attempt to increase their wisdom, some ancient philosophers ate the Little Owl, hoping to introduce the owl’s attributes of intelligence into their own persons. But they did not know what part of the bird contained the wisdom, so they ate the whole thing.

Athena with Owl, Louvre

The association of the owl with wisdom and learning is still present in a few centers of learning. Temple University in Philadelphia terms itself the “Owls,” while the medieval-style buildings of nearby Bryn Mawr College are decorated with owls. In the corner of Bryn Mawr’s Great Hall, a statue of Athena and her owls receive offerings around exam time.

Owls have large, forward-facing eyes. When we do see a live owl, it appears alert. It surveys its realm with attention and vigilance. It looks intelligent. It looks “wise as an old owl.”

But are owls wise? One writer put it succinctly: “To put it kindly, owls are no wiser than they need to be, i.e., not very.”

Owls are wise enough not to “rotate their heads through 360 degrees as is commonly supposed and which would in the event result in owls heads coming clean off and bouncing about all over the place.” (owlpages.com ) Owls cannot rotate their eyes in their sockets and have compensated by developing extra vertebrae in their necks which allow them to turn their heads about 270 degrees. However, they rarely turn their heads more than 180 degrees. In other words, an owl can look to its left by turning its head to the right but prefers not to.

Owls are primarily night hunters and are superbly equipped for their task Their eyes and ears are adapted to finding prey in the dark. Their feathers are designed for silence. They are the stealth flyers of the bird world.

Owls cannot “see” in the dark. A dead mouse in a totally darkened room went undiscovered by a Barn Owl. But an owl can see in light levels so low that we would be rendered totally blind. Light is measured in “lux”. The lowest number of lux in which humans can see is 37,000. Experiments on a Tawny Owl revealed that the lowest number of lux at which it was able to see was seven!

Or, consider the ears: The ears are asymmetrically located in the skull. The right ear is higher than the left ear. The ear openings are differing shapes. This means that sound reaches each ear a split second apart, enabling the owl to “triangulate” the location of its prey, pinpointing a sound to within ten millimeters with no aid from sight whatsoever. The flat face of the owl, formed by feathers, acts like a satellite dish to capture and direct sound to the ears. Some owls are capable of finding prey by sound alone. An experiment put live mice in a totally darkened room with a Barn Owl. Using hearing alone, the Barn Owl caught the mice every single time.

Barred Owl

The most common owls in Vermont are both nocturnal hunters: Barred Owl and Great Horned Owl. The call of the Barred Owl can be heard throughout our eastern forests; it prefers heavily wooded swamps, hemlock or pine forests. On many occasions I have kayaked on Sunset Lake on a summer evening. Nearly every time I have heard the distinctive call of the Barred Owl: “Who cooks for you? Who cooks for you? Who cooks for you allll?” It is not uncommon to hear a duet from this very vocal owl.

Daytime sightings of the Barred Owl are uncommon, but not unusual. It happens most often in the winter when food may be scarce, or under deep snow cover, or both. A Barred Owl active during the day is a hungry owl. It may also be a young owl which did not have time to hone its hunting and survival skills before winter arrived to make the task of finding food even more difficult.

The Barred Owl is one of the few owls which will reveal itself to humans. In “The Atlas of Breeding Birds of Vermont,” 1985, the Barred Owl is described this way: “A gentle creature with an engaging personality, the Barred Owl can be quite tame and curious even in the wild. One individual raised at the Vermont Institute of Natural Science’s raptor care facility in Woodstock returned there each winter for four years after his release, greeting his former benefactors with hoots, and swooping down to pluck mice from their hands.”

Great Horned Owl

One will often hear expressed something akin to affection for the Barred Owl. Affection is rarely expressed toward the second most common owl in Vermont, the Great Horned Owl. What one hears in relation to the Great Horned Owl is awe. Edward Forbush begins his description of this species this way: “The Great Horned Owl is not only the most formidable in appearance of all our owls, but it is the most powerful. The Great Gray Owl and the Snowy Owl may appear larger, but the Great Horned Owl exceeds them in courage, weight, and strength. Indeed, it little regards the size of its victim, for it strikes down geese and turkeys many times its weight, and has even been said at times to drive the Bald Eagle away from its aery and domicile its own family therein.”

Great Horned Owl - John James Audiubon

The Great Horned Owl (its “horns,” are feather tufts) is the “winged tiger of the woodlands.”Again, Forbush: “The Great Horned Owl is no respecter of persons. It kills weaker owls from the Barred Owl down, most of the hawks and such nocturnal animals as weasels and minks. It is the most deadly enemy of the Eastern Crow, taking old and young from their nests at night and killing many at their winter roosts. Game birds of all kinds, poultry, a few small birds, rabbits, hares, squirrels, gophers, mice, rats, woodchucks, opossums, fish, crawfish and insects are all eaten by this rapacious bird. It is particularly destructive of rats.”

Fishers often get blamed for the disappearance of domestic cats, but it could just as well be the work of a Great Horned Owl. They rule the night, with no natural enemies. Outside of your home, both of these predators are in their home. Your cat is no match for either. The best way to protect your cat is to keep it indoors.

One early winter morning, I heard through my open window distant hoots: “Who’s awake? Me, too. Who’s awake. Me, too.” The Great Horned Owl was probably calling for its mate, but he also told me that the night belonged to him. I was glad to let him have it. I rolled over and went back to sleep.

Good birding!

Dabbling Ducks - Genus Anas - No. 3

2011-12-11T06:00:00.000-05:00

This is the third introductory post on Dabbling Ducks (“puddle ducks”) - Genus Anas. Next will come the “female quizzes.”

The three ducks in this post have generated taxonomic discussion over the decades. Mallard, American Black Duck, and Mottled Duck have sometimes been classified as subspecies of one or the other. It is quite apparent in looking at them that they are closely related, in spite of the Mallard’s flashy dress. The species accounts in Birds of North America does suggest that these three species may constitute a kind of “super species.” But that discussion I will leave to the taxonomists.

As I maintained in a post in November, the drake Mallard is one stunning dude. He is often ignored because he is so common. He is also hardy; he will winter far to the north, so long as there is open water. The drake in this photograph not only is showing off his finest go-on-a-date wardrobe for impressing the ladies, but trying his hand at the precarious northern winter sport of ice walking.

Mallard - drake. (Brattleboro, VT, early February)

Mallard - drake & hen. (New Jersey, late October)

The Mottled Duck looks like a Mallard that forgot to dress up for the party. This Genus Anas species is southern, found in Florida and along the gulf coast, with some introductions in Georgia and South Carolina.

Mottled Duck (Florida, late February)

The Mottled Duck has a problem. Mallards are the origin species for domesticated ducks, and are so adaptable to human presence that they sometimes domesticate themselves. They are also favored as duck pets, until people tire of them and let them go. Feral Mallards are becoming common in Florida and are interbreeding with Mottled Ducks so often that some researchers are concerned that the gene pool will become so mixed as to threaten the status of the Mottled Duck.

Mottled Duck (Florida, late April)

I am not going to try to distinguish the drake and the hen. They know the difference. I refer you to the species account in Birds of North America - BNA - (on line subscription available at Cornell Lab of Ornithology - Subscribe.)

Mottled Duck (Florida, late February)

I am going to do the same cop-out on male/female American Black Duck, and make the same reference to BNA. Essentially, there is no sexual dimorphism in the American Black Duck and the Mottled Duck. Well, maybe not a complete cop-out. In the pair photo, the duck with the darker beak is probably the female.

American Black Duck (New Jersey, mid November)

American Black Duck - drake & hen (darker bill) (New Jersey, late October)

There is one additional Genus Anas species which is resident in North America - Cinnamon Teal. I don’t have any acceptable photos of this duck. Maybe after my winter trip to New Mexico. The Eurasian Widgeon is a regular winter visitor along the Pacific Coast, and regular, but rare, visitor along the Atlantic Coast. I have no photos of this duck. For accidentals in Genus Anas, of which there are several, you are also on your own.

Good Birding!!

Dabbling Ducks - Genus Anas - No. 2

2011-12-09T06:00:00.000-05:00

Continuing on the Dabbling Duck (“puddle duck”) series (Genus Anas)

The Northern Shoveler - the large shovel-like beak accounts for its name, but this huge spatula is really used to strain food from the muddy pond soup. One winter in Arizona I watched a flock of 20+ shovelers swimming in a compact circle with their beaks barely submerged as they stirred up the waters and strained out food. At a distance, the green head sometimes leads to a hasty “Mallard” ID, but the bill is black (yellow on the Mallard). The rusty red side on the drake is a give away field mark. The late October drake has not completed his molt, so the side appears a bit ragged.

Northern Shoveler - drake. (New Jersey - late October)

The drake in the next photo is doing the characteristic “bottoms-up” feeding of the dabbler. His flanks appear “neater” than the previous drake. The hen has the black bill often seen on the female during the fall. I also have a photo of a early November hen with a orange bill, but you will have to keep coming back to see it.

Norther Shoveler - dabbling drake with hen. (New Jersey - early November)

The white crescent on the face of the drake Blue-winged Teal is diagnostic. Less apparent when the bird is swimming in the pond is the blue wing. The blue upperwing coverts are seen when the bird takes flight, or when it is bathing and preening, as in the following photo, and you are fortunate enough to be close at hand.

Blue-winged Teal - drake. (Florida - late February)

Blue-winged Teal - drake & hen. (Florida, late February)

I suppose many birders will consider the Gadwall to be a drab duck, but to my eye the drake is an elegant gentleman. As the three photos show, the drake gives different pictures in different circumstances, but the black rear end is consistent and is the field mark I look for.

Gadwall - drake. (Massachusetts coast, mid-January)

Gadwall - drake. (New Jersey - early November)

Gadwall - drake & hen. (New Jersey - early November)

Good Birding!

Note: Last year in December, I did a series of quizzes on LBJs or Little Brown Jobs (Quiz 1 link).

My Favorite Bird

2011-12-07T06:00:00.022-05:00

No photos with this post, and you will see why as you read - how do I choose?

The current exercise on VTBird List Serve asking people to name their candidate for the Avian Beauty Contest, reminds me of an exercise which ran through the birding blogs a few years ago. It asked birders to list their ten favorite birds.

I tried to make such a list of my ten favorite birds, but quickly realized that it was an impossible exercise. I started with some obvious birds - like the Wood Duck or Harlequin Duck, the Rose-breasted Grosbeak or the Blackburnian Warbler. But then I had to admit that I could choose ten species from among the waterfowl alone. The Rose-breasted’s family includes the cardinal, Pyrrhuloxia, Blue Grosbeak and Indigo Bunting, all of which merit a place on the list of my ten favorite birds. Among the warblers there are at least twenty species that belong among that list of ten.

The birds already mentioned jump out because of the beauty of their plumage, but that means having to skip over other criteria which are just as compelling for a favorite bird - such as the loquacity of the wrens, the acrobatic agility of the nuthatches, the aeronautic ability of the hummingbirds, the patience of the stalking heron, or the intelligence of the raven.

So I wondered if there might be a way to refine this list making. Could I make a list limited to the ten birds whose songs were my favorite songs? I began by listing the thrushes: Wood and Hermit Thrush, Veery, and for all of its familiarity, the robin. Then I added the mimics: mockingbird, Brown Thrasher, and Gray Catbird. The ethereal Common Loon needs to be on the list. There were four or five wrens that had to make the cut. The Baltimore Oriole, Indigo Bunting, and American Goldfinch deserve consideration. I love the Eastern Towhee’s “drink your teeee” and the White-throated Sparrow’s haunting “pooooor sam peabody peabody peabody.”

Even limiting the list to favorite songsters was getting impossible. How about intelligence? Could I make a list of my ten favorite and most intelligent birds? That was almost too easy. The Corvids are, hands down, the most intelligent birds: jays, magpies, crows, and ravens. There are nineteen species of Corvids in Kaufman’s guide, but only four in New England: Blue Jay, American Crow, Common Raven, and in the boreal forests an occasional Gray Jay. Remarkable intelligence among birds, just as with other higher species, is remarkable for its rarity. Listing favorite species based upon their intelligence almost seems a no-brainer.

A more manageable exercise might be the listing of my ten favorite feeder birds - those who enjoy the copious amounts of free food that I put out for them. This pares the list of choices down to about thirty-five species, and some of those can be quickly eliminated: pigeon, House Sparrow, cowbird, and starling. The list will start off with the most colorful species (or more precisely, the most colorful males): Rose-breasted Grosbeak, Evening Grosbeak, and Northern Cardinal. I would like to include the Baltimore Oriole on this list, but I have never succeeded in enticing one to any feeder, although I have put out oranges until they turned black with mold. The Ruby-throated Hummingbird makes the list, as does the Blue Jay, Black-capped Chickadee, Tufted Titmouse, and the Red-breasted and White-breasted Nuthatches. The Downy and Hairy Woodpeckers with their acrobatics on the suet feeder and their faithful presentation of their young every year for my inspection are a part of this list. And how can I discriminate among the sparrows which visit or stay during the year: White-throated, White-crowned, Fox, Chipping, and Song.

Do you see the problem? I’ve got sixteen feeder birds on my list of ten, and I haven’t even included the goldfinch whose flocks take flight from the August lawn as though the sun were exploding.

I feel badly that I haven’t yet found a place for the Mourning Dove on the list of favorite feeder birds. Any creature that could fly south to warmer climes but elects to stay through our Vermont winters is worthy of inclusion.

Nor have I yet mentioned the Sharp-shinned Hawk whose hunting forays through the feeder birds provide drama, excitement, and a glimpse of the life and death struggles from which our modern lifestyles are so insulated.

Perhaps a manageable exercise might be to list my favorite families of birds. Classification of birds is a fluid, every changing science, but at present there are about seventy-seven bird families represented in North America. I haven’t finalized my list, but here are some early entrants, and I am limiting myself at this time to the Passeriformes, or perching birds. On the following list, I indicate the number of North American species in the family, and a few representatives of the family which put the family on my list of favorities.

Corvidae: jays, magpies, crows, ravens - 18 species, including Blue Jay and Common Raven

Paridae: tits - 11 species, including Black-capped Chickadee and Tufted Titmouse

Trogolodytidae: wrens - 9 species, including House Wren, Winter Wren, Carolina Wren

Parulidae: wood warblers - 51 species, with too many prime representatives to list

Cardinalidae: cardinal & grosbeaks - 10 species, including Northern Cardinal, Rose-breasted Grosbeak, Indigo Bunting

Iceteridae: blackbirds - 23 species, including Baltimore Oriole, Bobolink, Eastern Meadowlark, and many other candidates, but unfortunately also including the Brown-headed Cowbird.

Tyrannidae: tyrant flycatchers - 35 species, including Eastern Phoebe and Eastern Kingbird

Mimidae: mockingbirds and thrashers - 10 species, including Northern Mockingbird, Brown Thrasher and Gray Catbird.

In choosing my favorite families of birds, I have not yet weighed the loons, waterfowl, waders, terns, or shorebirds, so I still have a lot of work to do.

In the foregoing paragraphs, I’ve mentioned at least forty-five species, some more than once. Some readers have probably groaned at some of the species I’ve included, while other readers are undoubtedly irate that I have overlooked some species.

And maybe I shouldn’t bother with this exercise anymore. I think I have figured out what my ten favorite birds are ... they are the last ten birds which passed through my field of view.

* * * * * *

This post is one of fifty-two random essays on birds and birdwatching which you can find in “Tails of Birding.”

More about the Book

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Dabbling Ducks - Genus Anas - No. 1

2011-12-05T08:14:00.000-05:00

Last year in December, I did a series of quizzes on LBJs or Little Brown Jobs (Quiz 1 link).

For this year’s winter series, I will focus on Dabbling Ducks - Genus Anas. I have had a number of good opportunities in the Spring and last Fall for photographing the most common of these ducks.

The dabblers are some of our most familiar ducks, and most familiar birds. They are denizens of inland marshes and ponds, which is why they are known at “puddle ducks.” They may also frequent parks, feed in fields, and winter in protected coastal waters. They feed by dabbling at the water’s surface or by bottoms-up, heads down.

The drakes are among the most handsome and dashing gentlemen in the avian world. The hens - not so much so. Basically, the hens all look alike, although a part of this series will be an exercise in learning to identify the hens - an exercise which I need to do for my benefit, and which will hopefully be of interest to patient readers.

I begin with three of the most handsome dabbling ducks. Well, the drakes are handsome anyway.

The Green-winged Teal is the smallest dabbling duck - about 14 inches in length. Duck watching with binoculars or a scope tends to distort our comparative size perception. I remember one time walking on a wetlands boardwalk and being almost on top of Green-winged Teals. I was struck by how small these birds are.

Green-winged Teal - drake. (Florida, late February)

Green-winged Teal - drake & hen. (Florida, late February)

The Northern Pintail is just plain handsome. Its name comes from the long narrow pintail feathers. Like many ducks, it is flightless during its late summer molt. Observationally, the last feathers to be replaces are those pintail feathers. In late October, the drakes are elegantly attired, but missing their pintails.

Northern Pintail - drake. (New Jersey, late October)

The previous photo was taken in late October at Forsyth NWR. The next photo was also taken at Forsyth, this time in late March. The pintail feathers are evident, as is the dabbling method of feeding.

Northern Pintail - drake. (New Jersey, late March)

Northern Pintail - drake & hen. (New Jersey, late October)

The white crown of the American Widgeon gave this duck its folkname, “Baldpate.” This is a dabbling duck that likes to graze on land. It also spends time in deeper water than most dabblers, getting much of it food with thievery from coots and divers.

American Widgeon - drake. Florida, late February

American Widgeon - drake & hen. New Jersey, late October

Good Birding!

Snowy Owl - Brattleboro

2011-12-02T12:32:00.000-05:00

Hector Galbraith posted his sighting of a Snowy Owl in the Retreat Meadows' cornfield behind the marina this morning. It provided a marvelous show for the local birders who showed up within an hour of the posting.

Initially it was seen roosting in the middle of the field about 50 yards from the parking area at the trail head. It flew to the far end of the field, then to the slope at the east side of the cornfield.

Parking near CAP, I began to cross the service road behind the stores when I saw the owl perched about 50 feet in front of me. I alerted others by cell.

When a delivery truck came along the service road, the owl flew and then perched in a tree in the wetlands and stayed there while others joined me for the viewing.

No idea how long it will be around, but if it stays for at least two weeks, we will have a first record for our Christmas count.

Good Birding!!

Two Common Gulls

2011-12-01T09:42:00.000-05:00

It is very easy to overlook common birds and/or to ignore them when photographing and posting photographs. Here are two examples of common gulls, both photographed at Forsyth NWR (Brigantine) in November.

Ring-billed Gull (adult winter) ...

Ring-billed Gull (adult winter)

Herring Gull (adult winter) ...

Herring Gull (adult winter)

Olsen and Larsson: "Note coarse dark spotting on head and breast-sides, emphasizing whitish, evil-looking eyes." (emphasis added)

Herring Gull (adult winter)

Good Birding!!

Owl - Omen of Evil

2011-11-23T06:00:00.001-05:00

Note: My next column in "The Commons" will be on owls and will include some folklore about owls. Here is additional folklore which did not "fit" into the forthcoming column.

Eastern Screech Owl - John James Audubon

“The screech owl is always a sign of heavy news, neither singing nor crying out clearly, but uttering a certain heavy groan of doleful mourning, and therefore if it be seen to fly abroad in any place it foretells some fearful misfortune.”

Pliny the Elder wrote these words in the first century; they capture one side, the dark side, of the conflicting folklore of these mysterious birds who rule the night. Most owls are nocturnal, and so they are not often seen. But their voices carry through the night air filling it with eeriness. Henry David Thoreau, listening at night from his cabin on Walden Pond, sensed vastness and mystery in the solemn song of the Eastern Screech Owl: “‘Oh-o-o-o--o that I had never been bor-or-or-or-orn!’ sighs one on this side of the pond, and circles in the restlessness of despair to some new perch in the gray oaks. Then ‘That I never had been bor-or-or-or-orn!’ echoes one on the further side ....”

The doleful wail of the screech owl seems to warn of disaster, death, or disease. In our Southern states, a person awakened from sleep by its notes must take immediate action to ward off evil by turning his left shoe upside down, or turning his left pants pocket inside out, or throwing a piece of iron into the fire. But even in staid and sober New England there is lingering superstition. Not many years ago “one that took up residence for a few days in a church tower, was credited with foretelling - if not indeed causing - the death of a citizen of dignity, domiciled next door.” (Forbush)

When I lived in Pennsylvania, I might awake in the middle of the night and hear the distant song of the Eastern Screech Owl, plaintive and long drawn out. It did seem sad and even foreboding, and I had to remind myself that I was merely listening in on a love song - a song of passion when it fell on the ears of another owl.

Only once have I been able to study the screech owl. One March, a Screech Owl took up residence in a flicker box mounted on a maple in our yard. I looked out my kitchen window one early evening, and saw this face peering out. For a quarter of an hour it surveyed our yard, then slowly emerged from the box and flew into the deepening night. This was repeated for about two weeks, and then the bird disappeared. I did not then know about turning a shoe upside down or throwing iron in the fire, but there was no evil that occurred in my life, or even in my neighborhood, that I know of.

There are few, if any, screech owls which breed in Windham County, so you don’t need to be too concerned. However, if you are in the Lake Champlain region ....

Tundra Swan, et alia

2011-11-21T10:28:00.000-05:00

A few images from Saturday's trip to Forsyth NWR (Brigantine).

The highlight for me was the Tundra Swan (which makes only rare appearances in SE Vt). North America's smallest swan, it is still noticeably larger than the Canada Goose.

Tundra Swan

This Tundra Swan was feeding in shallow water, often stirring the bottom with its feet. Coots stayed closed, apparently feeding on whatever the swan was disturbing from the bottom.

Tundra Swan with American Coot

When encountering a bird which is not normally seen, it is tempting to try to make it an even rarer species. Tundra Swan and Trumpeter Swan are very similar, especially at a distance (see Sibley for ID help). One clear field mark in the yellow lore which is sometimes visible on the Tundra Swan. The following photo provides a glimpse of this variable field mark ...

Tundra Swan with American Coots (note yellow lore)

Snow Geese arrived on the coast since my previous visit in late October. Only a few were close enough for photographs. These two found something delectable in the black mud of the impoundment ...

Snow Goose

Wintering waterfowl are the principle attraction along the coast during this time of year. I'll be doing a series of posts on dabblers soon. The moving flock in the following photo is dominated by Green-winged Teal, with no shortage of Northern Pintail. Somewhere you might find an American Coot. Mallards are in the foreground, and Tundra Swan in the background.

Green-winged Teal in flight

Great Blue Heron ... just because I like the photo ...

Great Blue Heron (juvenile)

Songbirds were limited, but flocks of robins and Yellow-rumped Warblers were still common. The bird in this photograph is swallowing a juniper berry. Juniper berries give gin its flavor, so I like to think that this bird is having a nascent gin martini, literally dry ...

Yellow-rumped Warbler

Good Birding !!

American Coot

2011-11-18T08:27:00.000-05:00

Waterfowl are becoming the most common birds in coastal wetlands as we progress through November. Here are a few images of American Coots from a recent trip to Heinz NWR ...

Good Birding !!

At the risk of ...

2011-11-15T08:28:00.001-05:00

At the risk of compromising my status as a birder, I am posting photos of the Mallard. If this were a rare duck, we would fall over ourselves in finding ways to describe the handsome drake. But it is so common, easily tamed, and even self-domesticating, that it is typically ignored.

Mallard - drake

The Mallard is a dabbler (which occasionally will dive), usually feeding in shallow waters on a wide variety of plants and small creatures.

Mallard - hen and drake

Back to the handsome drake. We may overlook him because he is so common, but the hen is swept off her feet (or wings?) by the dashing fellow. This one unable to contain her enthusiasm - hooray to you, you wonderful, manly, hunk of duck!!

Good Birding!

Birding with Mudman

2011-11-12T06:00:00.002-05:00

Note: For many years I have posted my weekly column on Saturday. The column is now monthly and appears in “The Commons” (see link on right). From time to time I will dip into my archives and post an old column. The archival dipping begins today.

Mudman is an occasional birding companion who does not like to talk with other people when he is birding, especially other birders. He’d rather find birds himself, and he distrusts the attitude of other birders. With some good reason.

Black Skimmers

Several years ago, we were birding along the salt marshes near Cape May. Other birders were scattered on the berms on either side of the road, intently scanning with their scopes. A car stopped and disgorged several intense young men. “Seen anything good?” the apparent team leader demanded.

“There’s a flock of Black Skimmers out by the sand-bar,” I replied. Mudman and I were both accustomed to seeing only one or two of these unusual birds on the northern New England coast, so we were excited about seeing over thirty at one time.

Tricolored Heron

There was no verbal response, but the facial expression and body language from this group of young men was one of sneer and contempt. “Seen a Tricolored Heron?” another asked.

“All the herons except that one,” I responded.

He turned to his companions. “Listen. Let’s not waste our time here. Let’s go someplace good.” They piled back in their car and sped off.

I won’t repeat what we muttered to one another, but you can imagine. I can tell you that we were both deliciously satisfied when, within five minutes of their departure, we saw their desired Tricolored Heron.

Least Bittern

That kind of snobbish attitude among some birders is a definite turn-off. But unlike Mudman, it does not prevent me from talking with other birders. The next day we were birding through the old cow meadows in Cape May (now a migratory bird refuge owned by the Nature Conservancy). A group of women stood in an intent group by the side of the trail. Mudman avoided eye contact and quickened his pace. I stopped to ask what they were looking at. Before I could say anything, a woman stepped away from her scope, whispered, “Least Bittern,” and signaled me to look. Mudman joined us and we spent about fifteen minutes watching the bird until it slowly stalked into the reeds. “Thanks for talking to them,” Mudman said. “That’s a new bird for me.”

There’s the dilemma in that question: “Seen anything good?” How do I know what is “good” to another person. Five species of warbler in one bush is “good” to me, even if I have already seen all five individually on that same day. But often the questioner really means (without saying it): “Have you seen a bird that hasn’t been seen around here ever?” And on the off chance that you have, he won’t believe you. The question is a Catch-22. However you answer, you lose.

When asked the question, “Seen anything good?” - I usually respond, “If I’ve got a bird in my binoculars, it’s good.” And then in as friendly a manner as possible, I ask the question which I think should have been asked, “What have you seen?” Sometimes I will risk posing the question as: “Have you seen anything unusual?” - hoping that the person I am asking will tell me about rare sightings.

Most birders I know are journeyman birders like me, and we don’t need to be subjected to the arrogance of those hot-shots who think they know everything. But we do need to receive information, and in turn share it. We simply enjoy the birding experience.

By stopping to talk with that group of women in the cow meadows at Cape May, I made it possible for Mudman to see an elusive bird for the first time in his long birding career. His high from that experience floated him over the marshes for the next hour. That was good!

Blue Grosbeak

And then near the end of the day ... when our eyes were beginning to cross and our minds were turning to mush from long concentration and intensive searching ... and when I suggested he scan the field one more time, concentrating on a particular bush .... and when I was able to say, “That blue bird is not an Indigo Bunting .... and he said, “Blue Grosbeak!?” .... and I said “Yes.” .... and it stayed in that bushing singing while we put a scope on him for a long close look ..... and I said, “First sighting for me in a long time” .... and Mudman said, “Life bird for me!” - now that was great!

Good birding!

Reprise OMG Birds

2011-11-10T09:05:00.000-05:00

In the "omigosh" category, I returned to the Wissahickon on Wednesday for the morning light on the 50+ Wood Ducks wintering in the river.

And ... 2 more images of the Eastern Bluebirds from last Saturday ...

Eastern Bluebird dining on a grasshopper

Good Birding!!

2 OMG Birds

2011-11-08T08:00:00.000-05:00

Two birds in the "omigosh" category caught my breath over the weekend.

Saturday in old farmland outside of Philly, Eastern Bluebird (sky blue above and rich earth below) provided OMG moments ...

Eastern Bluebird

At least six Eastern Bluebirds were feeding in a field, often in a watch and strike manner ...

The way they continually returned to the bird house, including checking its inside, makes me think that this may have been mom and dad with the kids they raised here ...

Sunday along the Wissahickon River in Fairmount Park, there were dozens of wintering Wood Ducks ...

Wood Duck - drake and two hens

In N.A., the plumage of the drake Wood Duck is only rivaled by the Harlequin Duck. For sheer flashiness, I tip the scale toward the Woodie ...

Wood Duck - drake

"Only" five Woodies in this photo, but many more in larger and smaller groups were up and down the river ...

Wood Duck - 2 drakes & 3 hens

Good Birding!!

Leucistic American Robin

2011-11-04T06:00:00.002-04:00

The highlight of Thursday’s trip to Heinz NWR at Tinicum was a leucistic American Robin. Except for a tiny stripe of gray on the wing, a couple of tail feathers, and the black eye, the bird (from my vantage point) was completely white - bright white. In all other respects - shape, posture, behavior, and flight - it was typically “robin.”

leucistic American Robin

If “leucism” is a new term for you, here are a few extracts from the Cornell Lab of Ornithology website on “Plumage variations: Albinism or Leucism?”:

“Albinism is a genetic mutation that prevents the production of melanin in the body. Leucism is a genetic mutation that prevents melanin from being deposited normally on feathers .... leucism comes in two main varieties — paleness, an equal reduction of melanin in all feathers; and pied, an absence of melanin in some feathers creating white patches .... It is also possible for a bird to be completely white and still have melanin in the body. In this case the bird would be considered leucistic and would have dark eyes because the mutation only applies to depositing melanin in the feathers. Albinistic birds have pink eyes because without melanin in the body, the only color in the eyes comes from the blood vessels behind the eyes .... Typically birds with abnormally white feathers do not survive long because they are so much more visible to predators. Those that do survive may have trouble attracting a mate. Consequently, the mutated genes that cause albinism and leucism are less likely to be passed on to a new generation.”

Link to article: “Plumage variations: Albinism or Leucism?”

leucistic American Robin

Other highlights of the morning were Blackpoll Warbler, Rusty Blackbird, and Golden-crowned Kinglet ...

Blackpoll Warbler

Rusty Blackbird

Golden-crowned Kinglet

There was also a nice variety of waterfowl and abundant numbers of White-throated Sparrows. Yellow-rumped Warblers seem to have moved on.

White-throated Sparrow - brown striped morph

Good Birding!!

More from Cape May

2011-11-03T06:00:00.002-04:00

This Brown Thrasher posed beautifully for me (Higbee Beach WMA), then added to his esteem when he flew as I was in mid-burst ...

Brown Thrasher

Late October migrants included (as expected) Northern Flicker, Gray Catbird, and Hermit Thrush in considerable numbers ...

Northern Flicker (Yellow-shafted)

Gray Catbird

Hermit Thrush

The most common migrant was the Yellow-rumped Warbler ...

Yellow-rumped Warbler (Myrtle)

Good Birding!!

Dripping Palms and both Kinglets

2011-10-31T07:49:00.000-04:00

A week and a half ago I posted "Palms and Rubies." A Palm Warbler and a couple of Ruby-crowned Kinglets were in the remaining trees around my yard and teased me with a few mediocre photo opportunities.

Last Friday at 8am, I stood along a field edge at the Higbee Beach WMA in Cape May and watched Palm Warblers dripping out of the trees. In the early morning light they were gold nuggets with wings ...

Palm Warbler - Higbee Beach WMA, Cape May, NJ

An older woman stood nearby.Her cane rested against her leg as she held her binoculars to her eyes, watching the warblers. I said to her, "Isn't it great to stand in one place and have so many come to you." She replied, "I had six Palms in one glass. How good is that!!"

Palm Warbler - Higbee Beach WMA, Cape May, NJ

True to late October expectations, kinglets were active in many locations. On a trail through the state park in Cape May Point, Ruby-crowned Kinglets worked through the low shrubs and reeds, close enough that the red crown could often be seen without binoculars ...

Ruby-crowned Kinglet - Cape May Point State Park

Ruby-crowned Kinglet

In the cedars and pines of the state park, Golden-crowned Kinglets, demonstrated their acrobatic feeding, occasionally pausing briefly ...

Golden-crowned Kinglet - Cape May Point State Park

There were even flashes of the orange highlight in the golden crown ...

Golden-crowned Kinglet

Good Birding!!

When Feathers Were More Valuable than Gold

2011-10-29T16:00:00.003-04:00

Rock Pigeon nesting in Elliott St retaining wall -
a non-native bird that adapts to urban habitat

I enjoy standing on the top deck of the parking garage in Brattleboro and watching the pigeons swirl over the downtown buildings. They are masters of urban adaptation and they thrive in the barren habitats of cities and towns. As I walk down the stairs to Flat Street, I pause to watch their activity in the rock retaining wall beneath Elliott Street. Like the ancient cliffs that gave them their name, Rock Pigeon, they build their simple nests in the wall and raise brood after brood.

On Main Street, nondescript brown birds pick crumbs dropped by diners from beneath sidewalk tables. House Sparrows are the second species that has adapted and manages to make its living in the barren habitat of downtown streets.

Northern Flicker - a species favored by milliners
for adorning feathered hats

By contrast, if I want to see a native species such as the Cedar Waxwing, I will not look for it at Main and Elliott. I’ll go up to the neighborhoods and look for fruit trees, or further out to the orchards, or wherever berries hang heavy on bushes. If I want to see Northern Flickers, I go south of downtown along the Connecticut River in the Spring or Fall when they are migrating along the river and feeding in the mature forest near the banks. A downtown street in any town anywhere is not the place to look for waxwings or flickers or any other perching bird.

But there was a time when a skilled observer could identify many such birds in the barren urban habitats of our cities. Frank M. Chapman was such an observer. He was an ornithologist and curator of the bird collections at the American Museum of Natural History in New York City. He developed the innovative exhibits which displayed birds in their natural habitats.

Feather adorned hat on display at
John James Audubon Center at Millgrove, Pennsylvania

In the late 1880s, Chapman left his museum office and took two bird walks along the streets of Manhattan. He identified 40 species of native birds. (Note that the House Sparrow and pigeon are not native species.) His list included sparrows, warblers, and woodpeckers. The flicker and waxwing were among the most abundant. But none of the birds identified by Chapman were flitting through trees, picking crumbs off of sidewalks, or swirling through the air. They had been “plucked, disassembled, or stuffed, and painstakingly positioned on three-quarters of the 700 women’s hats Chapman saw.” (“A Birder’s Handbook”)

The feather trade was thriving, and birds were dying to provide high fashion ladies with elaborate evidence of their taste and prosperity. Women’s hats became larger and ornamentation more lavish. The feather trade exploded. 64 species of native birds were hunted, and exploited, for their feathers.

Great Egret - demand for the breeding plumes
nearly led its extinction

The Great Egret and Snowy Egret were favored. At the beginning of the breeding season, both species sport extravagant plumage as sexual advertisements. But they were not given the opportunity to attract mates. They were shot so that their plumage could adorn the hats of Victorian women, a few of whom may even have defied the prudish conventions of the time and used those plumes as part of their own elaborate sexual attractions. Egret populations plummeted.

Herbert Job, an ornithologist and pioneer wildlife photographer, wrote about the feather trade: “Here are some official figures of the trade from one source alone, of auctions at the London Commercial Sales Rooms during 1902. There were sold 1,608 packages of ... herons’ plumes. A package is said to average in weight 30 ounces. This makes a total of 48,240 ounces. As it requires about four birds to make an ounce of plumes, these sales meant 192,960 herons killed at their nests, and from two to three times that number of young or eggs destroyed. Is it, then, any wonder that these species are on the verge of extinction?”

In 1903, feathers sold for $32 per ounce, twice the price for an ounce of gold. The millinery trade employed 83,000 people (1 of every 1000 Americans) in 1900.

Herons, such at the Great Blue, were sought after
by the millinery industry

The Audubon Societies were born in response to the carnage of the feather trade. Its symbol was, and still is, the Great Egret. In 1901 the Brattleboro Bird Club reorganized as the Vermont Audubon Society. Audubon Societies and preservationists began a decades-long push for the enactment of laws. Public awareness was raised through lectures on topics such as “Woman as a bird enemy.”

Gradually the “Age of Extermination” came to an end. Dwindling supplies caused prices to soar. Fashion evolved new directions. Women’s life styles changed. And governments acted. In 1916 the United States and Great Britain (on behalf of Canada) signed the Migratory Bird Treaty and in 1918 Congress enacted the treaty into law. The Act established Federal responsibilities for the protection of nearly all species of birds, their eggs and nests.

The Migratory Bird Treaty Act (MBTA) made it illegal for people to "take" migratory birds, their eggs, feathers or nests. “Take is defined in the MBTA to include by any means or in any manner, any attempt at hunting, pursuing, wounding, killing, possessing or transporting any migratory bird, nest, egg, or part thereof ... In total, 836 bird species are protected by the MBTA, 58 of which are currently legally hunted as game birds. A migratory bird is any species or family of birds that live, reproduce or migrate within or across international borders at some point during their annual life cycle.” (www.fws.gov)

Blue Jay feathers are silent evidence of a hawk kill

Recently I received an email from a reader of my blog remarking about how lucky I was to find some blue jay feathers. The emailer wrote: “I live in Holland, and am not so lucky to find these beauty's around. Is there any way you could send some to me?”

He had seen photographs I had posted of the feather remains of a Blue Jay which had been taken by a hawk in my backyard. I replied that I photograph the feathers, sometimes study or examine them, but do not keep them. I could not send feathers to Holland because I do not have any and because it is illegal under the MBTA to possess or transport feathers.

Feather collecting, and the companion hobby, egg collecting (known as oology) are illegal in the United States, Canada, United Kingdom and many other jurisdictions. Underground and illegal collecting continues.

The MBTA allows special permits for protected nongame species that become local pests (e.g., giant flocks of winter roosting blackbirds). No other birds, except those for which there are designated hunting seasons, can be legally killed, trapped, harassed, or possessed (including birds found dead). Even “adoption” of young birds that appear to have been deserted by their parents is illegal without a permit.

Feather adorned hat on display at
John James Audubon Center at Millgrove, Pennsylvania

Fortunately, we can no longer see flickers and waxwings on the fashionable hats of fashionable women walking the sidewalks of downtown Brattleboro or any other downtown. The only birds commonly seen in the most barren urban habitats are pigeons and House Sparrows.

Even more fortunately, we can see the flickers, waxwings, and dozens of other species in our backyards, fields, orchards, ponds, and forests. They are protected. Watch them and enjoy them.

Good Birding!

Waders at Brigantine

2011-10-27T08:47:00.000-04:00

Wednesday I made an early morning trip to Forsyth NWR, Brigantine Unit, for some very enjoyable birding and photography.

The highlight was the American Bittern being inconspicuous in the grasses near the first observation tower.

American Bittern

In several locations there were immature Little Blue Herons ...

Little Blue Heron (immature)

Great Egrets were common along the entire loop road ...

Great Egret with American Black Ducks

Great Egret

Great Blue Herons were also common. Most were immatures ...

Great Blue Heron (immature)

Good Birding!!

A Great Day of Ordinary Birds

2011-10-25T18:14:00.000-04:00

Recovery from Irene has gone much better and faster than I could have anticipated, given the amount of damage. In South Newfane there is still much damage that is evident, but roads are open, passable, and in condition that will allow them to be plowed when the snow comes.

At home, the leach field is replaced and we can once again flush at will. To protect the nearby bridge, the precipice on which we were perched, post-Irene, has been rebuilt and the river rechanneled to its pre-Irene bed. The debris and sand on the lower yard has been cleared. As much has been done as can be done until Spring.

And so ... with various obligations met, I headed to our small condo in Philadelphia for a period of rest. It began with a visit today to the John Heinz NWR at Tinicum. This small refuge is in the shadow of the Philly Airport and in the midst of refineries. Though it seems a disconnect, it is a place of quiet, in spite of airplanes taking off and nearby interstate traffic noise.

For the first time in weeks, I was able to walk slowly and turn attention to photography and birds. Nothing unusual, but who cares! Nothing will lift the spirit like the bubbling song of the irrepressible Carolina Wren ...

Carolina Wren

When the Ruby-crowned Kinglets dropped in for a visit in South Newfane, photos eluded me. They were elusive today, but presented some limited photo ops ...

Ruby-crowned Kinglet

If the Mallard were a rare bird, we would fall over ourselves with glee at any sighting. The drake is a gorgeous bird. No wonder that this hen has a glint in her eye ...

Mallard

The most common bird was the American Robin refueling on its journey south ...

American Robin

Nothing rare, mostly common, but ordinary birds deserve their own exclamation -- Good Birding!!

Palms & Rubies

2011-10-21T08:49:00.001-04:00

In spite of the lack of usual cover in the yard, there was an early morning fallout of Ruby-crowned Kinglets (no photos) and Palm Warbler ...

Palm Warbler - October 21, South Newfane

Birding Again!

2011-10-17T10:06:00.000-04:00

For the first time in over 2 months, I mounted the big lens on my camera and photographed birds in the backyard. Hurricane Irene took out much of the backyard and washed away the trees, shrubs, and plants which we have cultivated for a decade to benefit birds and butterflies.

Installation of the new leach field required removing an old apple tree and several other large bushes which provided cover for the birds.

Even so, we preserved what we could, and some of the resident birds came daily to feed, in spite of the heavy equipment working nearby.

The residents included at least two pair of Downy Woodpeckers. This one is trying to reorient himself to the new feeder locations on a high bush rose which we saved ...

Downy Woodpecker

A small island of thick cover remained untouched behind the stone wall, providing Song Sparrows a close haven of safety. I wish there were someway to identify individual birds. As the changes took place in the yard, it often seemed that the Song Sparrows went first to where the feeders had been. With the leach field completed, grass seed spread, and feeders placed in new locations, they are beginning to get themselves reoriented. But are they the ones which came all summer, or did they stop on the way north and are now stopping on the way south, scratching first in the spot where they scratched in the Spring? I have no idea.

Song Sparrow

Mourning Doves have been present throughout, although their numbers do not seem as great as in previous Falls. But they come to the platform and forage on the ground several times a day.

Mourning Dove

Hairy Woodpeckers have also made daily visits, managing to find the suet feeder in its various locations.

Hairy Woodpecker

Installation of the leach field required digging up most of what remained of the lawn, yard, and flower beds behind the house.

Installing the leach field for the septic system

Taken just minutes before publishing this post, the leach field is completed, feeders are in and as close to cover as possible. Additional clean-up and grading will be completed this morning.

Completed leach field is seeded and finish work is being done

Good birding!

Birding - after a fashion

2011-10-13T07:36:00.000-04:00

Today is the first day is several weeks when I am relatively free of post-hurricane issues and could enjoy a day of birding. But ... it is raining !! - so indoors it will be.

This past weekend, I did some birding after a fashion. The Newfane Heritage Festival showcased over ninety artists, craftspeople, and specialty food folk, some of whom find their inspiration from birds. Here are a few ...

Chickadee - reverse painting on glass by Joann Gaffron-Hargrove, Springfield, VT

Loon - James Easton, woodcarver, North Windham, CT

Pileated Woodpecker - Phil Morgan, woodcarver, Athens, VT

Hand-carved bird house - Mark Wingertson, Petersham, MA

Meanwhile ... post-hurricane work continued.

Last Friday, work was completed on restoration of the river bank behind our home as part of the long term protection of roads and bridges.

Dozer levels fill where the Weeping Willow once stood

On Saturday, friends from Pennsylvania came to help with post-hurricane clean-up. They attempted to clean a debris jam on the "river's edge" behind our home. The intense force of the water packed material so tightly that it was almost impenetrable. Finally, I asked the neighbor who is putting in the new leach field for our septic system to use his backhoe to pull the debris loose. In the next few days he will complete the job and haul the material to a nearby burn pile.

Debris jam yielded reluctantly to the backhoe

Neighbors and friends supervise the backhoe work

When the weather clears again, I am looking forward to some Good Birding!

Progress, but not over yet!

2011-10-05T17:30:00.003-04:00

When I read our local paper Tuesday morning, I might have gotten the impression that Hurricane Irene was completely in the past. There was only one item about the storm, an obvious press release which announced that the FEMA office in Brattleboro would be closing at the end of the day. Okay, the hurricane is all over.

This morning's paper was marginally more aware of the hurricane. Two articles involved local government discussions about costs and rebuilding, and one article about the downtown movie theater reopening. Otherwise, everything is over, done, and complete.

Where I live, this is a stark reminder that media has an extremely short attention span. Here are photos which I took in my neighborhood on Mon, Tue, and Wed (today). It takes time to recover from a disaster. One can only wish (futilely, it would seem) that local media would at least keep neighbors informed that many neighbors are still rebuilding and recovering.

Monday, South Newfane ...

Construction crews begin widening the channel of the Rock River and repairing/replacing the river bank

Monday, nr Marlboro/Newfane town line ...

Augur Hole Road - construction on new abutment for the bridge currently served by the "Tom Fusco Memorial Bypass"

Telephone line crew working to restore phone service

Tuesday, South Newfane ...

Continuing work on Rock River

Wednesday, South Newfane ... another day in which the construction crew began work at 7am, and continued working until 5pm

Repairing river bank

Widening Rock River and repairing the river bank

And on a bird note ... Evening Grosbeaks have been regulars at my bird feeders and in my neighborhood every month for the last several years. Since the flood, I have not seen them, until Tuesday when one flew from the grass in a nearby field and paused in an apple tree ... good luck, and please come back!

Evening Grosbeak

Being Normal and Human

2011-10-02T06:00:00.005-04:00

(Note: This column appeared in "The Commons," Wednesday, September 28. It was written on September 19.)

Bridge - Augur Hole Rd nr Alcan Power Equip.

Hurricane Irene ripped apart the tiny village of South Newfane where I live. I was in Philadelphia when she struck. The village was physically isolated, with every road washed out in multiple places and many bridges reduced to rubble. Communication was severed. It was three days before I could make contact with any neighbor.

When I was finally able to return to South Newfane, I found my home safe, but the leach field for my septic system was gone along with 40-50 feet of property. The carefully developed bird and butterfly garden was severed, and many of the protective trees around the bird feeders had disappeared. Those that remain will be removed when a new leach field is squeezed into the remaining space.

the lower lawn

Compared to some neighbors, our damage was not severe. But I quickly recognized that every neighbor was affected. Hurricane Irene ravaged the mental and psychological state of everyone, just as she tore out homes, trees, roads, and bridges. Four weeks after the storm, the daze created by the storm and fatigue is still apparent as one talks with people. Ordinary tasks are difficult and everything seems to take too long.

A week ago I went to the flood sale for my neighbor, artist-photographer Christine Triebert. I paused before a mystical, mysterious scene with a small stream bubbling through a forest canopy. In the distance the water was spanned by a delicate, spider-like, bridge. The title read, “Rock River;” the bridge was the Parish Hill Bridge. Tears welled up in my eyes as I viewed the spiritually rich image - but an image of what was, and a contrast to the Hieronymous Bosch scene left in the wake of Irene. It will be a long time before I can view the image of Chris’ “Rock River” and draw from it the spiritual peace which the artist conveyed.

In the midst of all this, one grasps for the normal activity. One afternoon, I made myself cut the grass. It did not take as long as in the past, so I did the neighbor’s grass and a nearby field.

Black-throated Green Warbler

Two weeks ago after church, friends on Newfane Hill invited me to lunch. We ate our sandwiches and watched the birds coming to the feeders on the deck. I pulled myself out of the daze when an olive-drab and yellow bird landed on the deck. It took a while before the mental computer booted up. When it did, I watched the young Black-throated Green Warbler with a sense that my “normal” expectations for a mid-September day were still around. That sense continued as a young Blackburnian Warbler also gleaned food in one old apple tree while a young Common Yellowthroat gleaned food in another apple tree.

Last Sunday, I wandered along the Dover Road to again try to wrap my mind around the damage. Between the Covered Bridge and the Parish Hill Bridge there were four washouts. Road construction crew had brought these back to grade and had made them passable. Beyond my home on the Dover Road, another washout was nearly back to grade. Each of these required major road reconstruction. The tireless efforts of the construction workers was heroic, but in a way, unexceptional. The number and variety of people who have made heroic and tireless contributions is legion - volunteer firemen, cleaning crews, community dinner organizers, communicators, town officials, emergency workers, and neighbors handing out supplies ... and hugs.

Wild Turkeys

When I drove out the Augur Hole Road last Sunday, a flock of turkeys crossed the road. I tried to creep close to them in my truck, but the wary birds scurried off and gave me only a third rate photo opportunity. Even so, it was a moment of normalcy.

But that moment paled when I reached Tom Fusco’s home. The bridge just past his shop, Alcan Power Equipment, like all the others on the Augur Hole Road, had been washed out by the Marlboro Branch. Four culverts had been placed along side the broken bridge and a one car lane reconnected the isolated residents with roads to Route 30. At one end of the basic river crossing, a hand lettered sign announced “The Thomas Fusco Memorial Bypass.”

Tom Fusco Memorial Bypass

I laughed, as I am sure I was meant to. In the midst of so much somberness, for a moment the burden was lighter. As we slog through the debris and labor through the destruction, those moments when we cry, and those moments when we laugh, are moments that keep us human and connect our humanity.

The Bypass reconnected residents of the Augur Hole

Common Yellowthroat

Continuing the Recovery from Irene

2011-09-30T11:01:00.000-04:00

About 7:30 this morning, I took this photo of the Rock River looking upstream from my home. The harshness of the new and wide river bed is softened in the fogging morning as the sun begins to warm the hillside and burn off the mist. There was a mysterious, almost surreal atmosphere to the scene.

In the downriver direction, the scene was also mysterious and surreal in the foggy morning light, but also with a reality disconnect. Heavy equipment began working to remove sand and rocks from the river bed and put the river "back where it belongs." Rivers have their own life, and I am not sure it really "belongs" any particular place as it moves through the valley. But people have been living in this valley for 200 years and they have made many changes to the river and expect it to respect those changes. Such "respect" might be imposed, but never permanently.

With that philosophical musing out of the way, I am delighted that the work has begun, surreal as it may appear in the foggy light of morning.

The task moves along, and by 10 am, there are noticeable changes. By "putting the river back," there will be protection for roads and bridges in the immediate area and further downstream. Personally, it will also mean that the unstable 20' bluff in the back of my home will be stabilized, protecting property and people.

The same scene as the first photograph at 10:30 am. Though this is very different from the river I have lived with for many years, we are slowly becoming customized to the change. There is greenery, and hints of the changing colors.

A Snippet of Hurricane Aftermath & Wildlife

2011-09-27T13:51:00.001-04:00

In the beaver pond on Augur Hole Road, just around the corner from my home, I photographed this White-eyed Vireo in early May - a rare bird for Vermont. He sang for several days and then was not heard from. Perhaps he realized that he had strayed out of his range and flew back south. Or perhaps something else happened.

White-eyed Vireo, May, 2011, in a beaver pond in South Newfane

Two weeks after Irene, on September 11, I took the following photograph of the same beaver pond in South Newfane. In the previous photo, I was standing in an alder thicket approximately where the river gravel is exposed in the center of this next photo.

The former beaver pond after Hurricane Irene

We lost 40-50 feet of our property, including our leach field. The area contained several dens, although we have never been able to determine who was using what when. We suspect that there were rotating occupants - groundhog, skunk, raccoon, gray fox, and perhaps others.

Daily visitors in early August included this groundhog ...

Evening visitors included this family of four skunks ...

Did they all get washed away in the flood?

No! The groundhog appears almost daily, looking bigger, fatter, and healthier.

One evening I saw two skunks (for certain) who were cleaning up fallen bird seed. There are not as many birds, so not as much fallen seed. The skunks have apparently moved elsewhere, or at least are not feeding quite as often in the yard. But they survived the flood.

Blogging post-Irene - 2

2011-09-22T18:00:00.004-04:00

About 1/4 mile west of my home, there was a major washout of the Dover Road.
This photo, taken 2 weeks post-Irene on Sunday, Sept 11, show the barely passable reconnection that had been done. Everything from where I am standing to the top of the road rise (where a truck is just visible) had washed out. The stream can just be seen to the middle right, now back to about its original width.

The excavator was working on Sunday to rebuild the river bank and protect the road way, and to provide materials for the rebuilding. One of the astounding tidbits is how much construction equipment there was in the area which could be brought to bear on the recovery efforts.

This is the same roadway seen above, one week later on Sunday, Sept 18. The grader and roller are sitting idle for the first time in almost three weeks. By last Sunday, the equipment operators were getting a well-deserved, and much needed, day of rest.

A half mile to the east of my home, the river changed course. This photo was taken on Sunday, Sept 11. The piles of logs are not from a logging operation. They were trees ripped out by the flood waters and carried down until stopped by some obstacle or jam. The yellow house in the middle is the second story. The house was moved down river 500 feet (it use to stand beyond the middle house in the photo); the first story was beaten apart and washed away. This house may have been the obstacle which stopped the logs, and may be the reason that the new covered bridge another 1/3 mile down river survived.

One week later from almost the same spot - with the roadbed of the Dover Road rebuilt and passable, if the driver has the good sense to go slowly.

On Sunday, Sept 18, this brand new culvert for a small intermittent stream was being completed.

From atop the culvert, an automobile still waits removal, while residents clean their home. Over a foot of silt and mud surround the house, but it appears to have survived. It use to sit in a lovely grassy field.

Blogging post-Irene & a bird

2011-09-20T09:20:00.000-04:00

The peaceful, gentle, mountain streams which flow through my village of South Newfane became raging rivers with the torrential rains of Hurricane Irene, destroying roads, bridges, homes.

This last week, I spoke with a photographer neighbor about the impossibility of capturing a two dimensional image of the damage. She agreed. To grasp the damage requires three dimensions and 360 degrees. Even so, I have tried.

The recovery work that has been done throughout Vermont is remarkable. All major roads are open (or will be in a few days). In my village heavy construction equipment has worked with remarkable dispatch to restore the roads, although they are still for locals only.

In the previous post, the second photo shows one of the road washouts. Here is the same washout two weeks post-Irene, Sept 11, crews working all day Sunday.

The same stretch of washout was back to grade and passable two days later. If the report I heard (much info goes word of mouth), it will receive the first asphalt in a few more days.

Thousands of yards of material have been needed to rebuild the roads. A few hundred feet east of the previous washout was another large washout. The Rock River (normally just a modest stream) had widened its bed. With the river bed scoured clean, no further environmental damage could be done to aquatic life. Normal regulations were suspended, and building material was taken from the river to rebuild the banks and roadbeds. Here is some of that work being done on
Sunday, Sept 11. Construction trucks such as these are not a normal sight in our neighborhood or roadways.

This next photo shows the same stretch of river bed and roadway seen in the previous photo. This was taken Sunday, Sept 18 - a rough but passable road, with the heavy equipment now working in a different area.

With all of the disruption of the present, I nevertheless took a day off for something normal - a few hours of hawk watching on Putney Mountain. It was Sept 16, the day when Prognosticator Phil guarantees at least 500 migrating hawks. With Golden Eagle and Bald Eagle, a few accipiters and falcons, and a reasonably good flight of Broad-winged Hawks, it was a time of needed mental and emotional therapy.

Broad-winged Hawk - Putney Mountain, September 16

More soon.

A Message to Readers/Followers - post Irene

2011-09-06T10:55:00.000-04:00

Dear Blog Followers and Tweeters -

Last week for the first time in 12 years, I did not have a column (Tailfeathers) in the Brattleboro Reformer.

Hurricane Irene hit my little village of South Newfane with extreme fury (Photos below), washing out large sections of all roads into the village, destroying and damaging bridges, destroying and damaging many homes. The Rock River and the Marlboro Branch cut new channels and changed course in many places.

I was fortunate. I was in Philadelphia with family. My home had no damage, but about 35 feet of our yard disappeared, including the leach field for our septic system. I made a brief visit to South Newfane last week when a bridge was temporarily made passable and contact with the village reestablished. I will return to Vermont again this week to begin work with an engineer on a new septic system, and to help in the community where possible.

Birding is on hold for the moment. Column writing, blogging, and photography all have writer’s block, blog block, and photo block.

Please be patient. Keep me on your list and check back from time to time.

Chris

The bridge abutment washed out and one end collapsed. But the bridge structure was still sound. Remarkably, this became the place where South Newfane was reconnected with the rest of the state. A sand and gravel ramp was built from the bridge to the road surface. (Photo from the facebook.com/NewfaneBulletin - a page put up a day after the flood to provide information and connection for people)

Dover Road east of the green iron bridge. The river's edge was just to the right of the photo. (Photo from CVPS, I think)

Further east on the Dover Road where the Rock River tried to cut a new oxbow. The river channel, pre-storm, was about 50-60' to the right of the photo (Photo from VPR, I think)

Our backyard along the new river's edge. Pre-storm, the river bank was to the left of the photo, with a huge old willow tree at the bottom left corner, just outside the current photo. The part of the river seen in this photo was a pine covered slope.

From what I have learned, engineers feel the river will want to reclaim its previous bed and that its new banks are unstable. Heavy equipment is working in the river to put the river back in its old banks.

When I have the opportunity I will post a few additional photos, and hopefully before too long, will be back to the birds.

More on the Mourning Dove

2011-08-27T06:00:00.004-04:00

A few years ago I was at a friends home on Timson Hill. He led me into a bedroom and pointed through the window to a spruce tree just on the other side of the glass. On the flat branch of the needle covered branch was the nest of a Mourning Dove. She was on her eggs and seemed unconcerned about the oglers peering through the window.

It was not much of a nest. It looked like a disorderly jumble of small sticks and twigs hastily placed on the branch - like an indigent’s camp beneath a bridge, designed with impermanence in mind. But the nest served its purpose. As the season progressed, my friend reported that two young doves fledged, and when they were gone, the nest was used a second time.

To the degree that a Mourning Dove has any place in folklore, it is as a “love bird.” To anthropomorphizing eyes, the mated pair appears very affectionate, and in fact, a mated pair seem to remain together during the entire breeding year.

With his flowery prose, Audubon described his painting of the Mourning Dove (which he knew as the Carolina Turtle-Dove): “I have tried, kind reader, to give you a faithful representation of two as gentle pairs of Turtles as ever cooed their love in the green woods ... Look at the female, as she assiduously sits on her eggs, embosomed among the thick foliage, receiving food from the bill of her mate, and listening with delight to his assurances of devoted affection. Nothing is wanting to render the moment as happy as could be desired by any couple on a similar occasion.

“On the branch above, a love scene is just commencing. The female, still coy and undetermined, seems doubtful of the truth of her lover, and virgin-like resolves to put his sincerity to the test, by delaying the gratification of his wishes. She has reached the extremity of the branch, her wings and tail are already opening, and she will fly off to some more sequestered spot, where, if her lover should follow her with the same assiduous devotion, they will doubtless become as blessed as the pair beneath them.”

Audubon has perhaps gone too far in his anthropomorphizing of the Mourning Dove, but he does capture the sense of devotion and peace which the doves evoke within us. A hundred years later, Massachusetts ornithologist Edward Forbush was still writing about the doves with a romantic flourish, though toned down from Audubon:

“The male does not cease his attentions to the female when the eggs are deposited, but often brings sticks and straws for the nest and takes his share of the duties of incubation, feeding and brooding. As a rule, after incubation commences until the young are hatched, one or the other of the parents is continually on the nest. When the adult bird is frightened from the nest by an intruder, it may drop to the ground and imitate so well a wing-broken bird as to lead the enemy away, or it may alight on the ground and flap its wings to draw attention. This is most likely to happen after the young are hatched, and in some cases both parent join in the ruse.” (Forbush)

What can be said with a bit more straightforward sobriety is that the Mourning Doves pair early in the Spring and nest early. Sometimes they begin to nest in late March or early April. The male brings the nest material; the female builds the nest. It takes one to three days. Typically, two eggs are laid. Incubation takes about two weeks; both male and female incubate. The young are fed by both parents. From altricial hatchlings (naked and helpless) to leaving the nest as fledglings takes about two weeks.

When the young have left the nest, the parents do it again ... and again ... and again. Sometimes Mourning Doves will nest as many as six times during a breeding season.

Mourning Doves, like other members of their family Columbidae, feed their young with “pigeon milk.” “This substance is produced in the crop, an enlarged pocket of the upper esophagus. During the nesting season, the walls of the crop secrete a milky fluid that is rich in fat and protein. For the first dew days after hatching, the young are fed a pure diet of pigeon milk. Then they begin to receive a mixture that includes some partially digested seeds or fruit, but their diet continues to include some pigeon milk for at least a couple of weeks. To be fed, the young bird will insert its bill into the corner of the parent’s mouth, and the adult will regurgitate the pigeon milk or the mixture for the young to eat.” (Kaufman, Lives of North American Birds)

As nearly as I can determined, once the young have left the nest, or very soon after, they are left entirely on their own. In my yard, I will often seen a pair of scaly Mourning Doves feeding on the ground. The scaliness, plus the apparent cluelessness of these birds, identify them as young birds. As the season progresses, the number of young increases. Eventually the adults, tiring of the repetitive parental responsibilities, also join the flock.

Early in the twentieth century, Mourning Doves received protection along with songbirds. That protection, along with their adaptability and seasonal production of six to twelve young has made them one of the most common birds in North America. And that in turn, has been good for other birds.

A few mornings ago, I was awakened by Blue Jays. They were making a hellagious racket. Somewhere nearby, there was a hawk, and the jays were sounding the alarm. Warned by the jays, the doves all departed the yard. Doves do not always have the good fortune of sentinel jays. One afternoon when I was sitting by the river, I glimpsed a Sharp-shinned Hawk crossing overhead and circling through trees. Later when I returned to the house, I found a pile of dove feathers on the lawn. One of those slow-moving, clueless young Mourning Doves became a meal for nestling Sharp-shinned Hawks.

As the season progresses, those young doves will become practice prey for novice young hawks. Last year as winter began, the flock of Mourning Doves which gathered in the trees around my feeders numbered about thirty birds. By late February, half that number gathered in the trees. Feather piles and red spotted snow were tangible signs that the bird feeders had attracted other feeder birds, like the Sharp-shinned and Cooper’s Hawks. The Mourning Dove was filling its place in the ecology around my home.

Youngsters

2011-08-25T08:55:00.000-04:00

One of the things I enjoy about late summer is seeing the young birds learning how to be independent. Here are a few recent encounters.

This fledgling Northern Cardinal had only been on its own for a few days when he visited the platform. It is probably a second brood youngster. The parents are probably back on the nest, and in mid-September, new youngsters will be coming around.

Northern Cardinal

Movement through the willow tree caught my attention, and then briefly I had a few glimpses of recently fledged American Redstarts chasing their parents. Even with difficult lighting, lots of foliage, and constant movement, a few passable photos were possible.

American Redstart

Again this year the Evening Grosbeaks have been nesting in the neighborhood, raising multiple broods. This one had been on its own for a while and was faring quite well.

Evening Grosbeak

The Eastern Towhee had just left the nest and was waiting impatiently for a parent to bring food.

Eastern Towhee

This is a "just because" photo. In early August, the resident male Ruby-throated Hummingbird was still vigorously defending his flowers and feeders. Now he has just about given up, or perhaps moved on, leaving the territory to the young birds and the females. But he'll be back next Spring, with a pugnacious attitude that gram for gram significantly outweighs anything else in the neighborhood.

Ruby-throated Hummingbird

Good birding!

Mourning Dove

2011-08-20T06:00:00.046-04:00

Mourning Dove

The Mourning Dove is common is our yards, fields, and towns. It is part of the background and as such, it is often overlooked and taken for granted. I am guilty of that. In a dozen years of writing this column, I don’t think I have ever given the Mourning Dove exclusive attention.

“The mourning dove must have been one of the first birds that attracted the attention of the early settlers when this country was new and wild. They must have recognized the bird as not far removed from some of the Old-World species of pigeons, and its notes must have recalled to them their old home. The writers of these times speak of the bird familiarly, especially as a game bird that relieved the hardships of pioneer life.”

With those words, Bent begins his “Life History” of the Mourning Dove. In Bent’s history and in the writing of other earlier observers, the impression that comes through is that the Mourning Dove is just an assumed part of the landscape and as such does not receive a great deal of attention. It was sometimes called a “turtle dove,” by early colonists because of its resemblance to European turtle doves. The repeated “coo, coo, coo” sounded sad and mournful to colonists homesick for their native land; “mournful” adhered to the dove.

The Mourning Dove’s “coo, coo, coo” is sometimes heard as a “hoot.” As you know, owls “hoot” in popular parlance. On a number of occasions I have had non-nature type people tell me they have heard an owl, leaving me the mournful task of explaining that what they have actually heard is a Mourning Dove.

In addition to its hooting “coo,” the mourning dove also “whistles.” The whistle is not a vocalization; it is produced by the wings when the bird takes off.

Detail - J.J.Audubon's "Mourning Dove"

Whatever imagined sadness the Mourning Dove may have been “cooing” about to earlier generations, it was viewed by them primarily as a game bird. John James Audubon painted his Mourning Doves as loving and devoted couples, and then with his typical disconnect, described their tastiness: “The flesh of these birds is remarkably fine, when they are obtained young and in the proper season. Such birds become extremely fat, are tender and juicy .... These birds require good shooting to bring them down, when on wing, for they fly with great swiftness, and not always in a direct manner. It is seldom that more than one can be killed at a shot when they are flying, and rarely more than two or three when on the ground.”

Apparently the gunning skill required to shoot Mourning Doves is what still makes them a game bird in many states. It certainly is not, and never was, a major source of food. At just over four ounces in weight, feathers and all, it would take a lot birds to make a meal.

By the early twentieth century the Mourning Dove’s numbers were severely decreased in New England. In 1908, it received protection in the northern states as a songbird, allowing its numbers to increase. Today in appropriate neighborhoods in our area, it can be considered common, to very common, to abundant.

The Mourning Dove ranges throughout the United States and Mexico. In southern Canada and the northern United States it is seasonal, breeding during the Spring and Summer and then migrating to warmer climes.

In Southern Vermont, the Mourning Dove can be seen throughout the year, but the birds of the summer and the birds of the winter are not necessarily the same birds. Banding studies have demonstrated that many Mourning Doves undertake a long migration. For example, birds banded in Wisconsin have been recovered in Louisiana and Alabama. Texas to northern Florida is the favored winter home; banded birds recovered in these areas have come from across the northern tier of states, from New Jersey and New York through Pennsylvania, Ohio, Michigan, and westward through the northern plains states.

The migratory habits of the Mourning Dove probably account for its remarkable uniformity across its vast range. The birds mingle and mix during the winter. When they return to the breeding grounds their DNA also gets mingled and mixed. Most modern field guides (Sibley in particular) note racial differences among species especially where those differences are notable in the field. Almost no attention is paid to subspecies of the Mourning Dove because the differences are so slight. Bent describes the western race as slightly paler and slightly larger. But note the word, “slightly.”

Charles Lucien Bonaparte

Mourning Dove (Zenaida macroura) belongs to the family, Columbidae, from the Latin for pigeon or dove. In general, the larger members of this family are called pigeons; the smaller members are called doves.

The Mourning Dove was named by Charles Lucien Bonaparte, a nephew of Napoleon Bonaparte. When the family fortunes declined after Waterloo, Charles moved to America with his new wife (and first cousin), Zenaide and his uncle/father-in-law, Joseph. He lived in Bordentown, New Jersey and Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. “While residing in the United States from 1822-1828, he re-edited a volume with the longest title in American ornithology ... ‘American Ornithology, or History of Birds Inhabiting the United States not given by Wilson.’” Bonaparte is considered to be the father of systematic ornithology in America. Bonaparte’s Gull commemorates him.

Zenaide Bonaparte (right)

Bonapare honored his wife with the Genus Zenaida. Mated pairs of Mourning Doves exhibit a very close association. An old common name for the dove was “love bird.” Bonaparte may have linked the name of his wife to this dove as a symbol of conjugal bliss.

The species name, macroura, comes from the Greek for “long” and “tail.” Thus the literal meaning of the name, Zenaida macroura, is “Zenaida’s long tail.” The long tail of the Mourning Dove is considered by some to be its outstanding characteristic. When the bird is perched, the tail is long and pointed. Then it takes flight and the long tail flares in an elongated triangle with prominent white tips on the outer tail feathers.

More next week. Good birding.

American Serengeti

2011-08-17T07:00:00.000-04:00

The Great Plains once hosted vast herds of hooved mammals. Only remnants of those herds remain. In Yellowstone NP, traces of what once was can be seen, particularly in the Lamarr and Hayden Valleys. Here are a few images from our recent travels.

First, from Badlands NP, South Dakota, a gentleman with an itch to scratch ...

American Bison, bull

Several glimpses of the remaining "American Serengeti" in Yellowstone NP ...

Moose, cow with calf

Pronghorn

American Bison - cows with calves

Mule Deer (aka Black-tailed Deer), stag

Elk (aka Wapiti), bull

Bison, Raven, Bear

2011-08-13T06:00:00.003-04:00

Pronghorn Antelope

In early July we took our oldest grandson to Yellowstone National Park. A resident of Philadelphia, he especially anticipated seeing wildlife and he was not disappointed: bison, elk, deer, antelope, and moose excited the young man whose city wildlife is limited to aggressive gray squirrels.

The wildlife that especially grabbed him was the raven. Ravens are common in Yellowstone and many are accustomed to people, so to those who want to observe them, they are very observable. Few tourists in the park give the ravens much attention. But something triggered within our grandson when he watched the ravens. He became alert to the dark spot in a tree top and the silhouette against the sky. He quickly recognized their vocalization and became alert when he heard them.

One late afternoon, we were in a visitor’s center. My wife and I labored through the displays on the 1988 fires which burned through so much of the park. Julius did a rapid absorption and headed to the bookstore. On sale were videos on many different aspects of the park. Julius watched previews of the videos.

Bison breaks through ice

When I joined him, I asked what had especially interested him. He told me that the video had shown a bison which had fallen through the ice and died. A grizzly bear pulled the carcass from the water and had a meal. “A raven watched the whole time,” he said. His tone was that of one who becomes alert whenever a special interest (a raven) appears in a narrative.

I asked him, “Did the video explain how the bear knew the dead bison was there.”

“No,” he replied.

“I’ll tell you,” I said.

For many millennia, people who have shared their world with Raven have watched Raven carefully. They have seen Raven’s wit and wisdom, Raven’s resourcefulness, Raven’s benevolence and malevolence, and they have told tales.

A scientist may object to the story I tell you, but I am not a scientist. I am a spinner of yarns and a teller of tales. Here is the tale from the old generation to the young generation.

It had been a hard winter. The cold was colder and the snow was deeper. Young Bison had struggled. He had spent much of the winter in a warm thermal valley where the snows were not quite so deep, but where the grass was sparse and its nutrition poor. Bison survived winter, but he knew that he needed good, nutritious grass soon if he was going to replenish his strength. Across the frozen river, the sun was melting the snow on the south facing slope. Good pasture was reappearing. Bison began to move.

The lure of the pasture, Bison’s hunger, and Bison’s weakness after the long winter, made Bison less cautious than prudence would dictate. The thinning ice on the river gave way beneath him and he crashed through. Bison struggled to gain footing. Again and again Bison tried to find leverage on the edge of the ice to pull his bulk from the cold water. Bison struggled for hours and grew weaker and weaker. The struggle ended and Bison died.

Raven circled high overhead. Raven watched the futile struggle by Bison. “Cur-ruk,” called Raven, summoning others from his tribe. “Cronk, cur-ruk,” Raven said, announcing the opportunity for feast. In the death of Bison, there was nourishment for others. But Raven also knew that help was needed. Raven would be unable to tear through Bison’s thick hide. Wolf pack was far away, and Wolf Pack would be unable to retrieve Bison’s huge body from the river. Raven circled and pondered briefly. “Cur-ruk,” he announced to his tribe. “Bear has come from his den. Bear is strong. Bear is hungry. I will bring Bear. When Bear has eaten, we will eat.”

So off went Raven in search of Bear. High in the sky, Raven’s keen eyes could search vast areas of the wilderness for Bear. On the side of a mountain, Raven spied a dark spot moving down slope through the lodgepole pine forest. “Cronk, cronk,” Raven called down from high overhead. Bear glanced skyward. “Ah, Raven,” thought Bear. “You need my help.”

Raven circled lazily overhead, calling directions to Bear from time to time as Bear lumbered through the deep spring snowpack toward the river. Bear heard others from the Raven tribe gathering, for Raven tribe was social and talked often of current affairs. Bear also heard Magpie, Raven’s cousin, equally talkative and equally opportunistic.

As he neared, Bear saw that Eagle had also joined Raven tribe and Magpie tribe on the river ice and river bank. Without hesitation, Bear went to the half-submerged body of Bison. Bear’s long claws gripped the massive body of Bison. His huge strength tugged and pulled the dead weight of Bison from the water onto firm ice.

Then Bear feasted. His months of fasting had left him famished. He tore through the thick hide of Bison and ate. Raven who had led him to the feast, waited, as did Raven tribe and Magpie tribe and Eagle. They did not wait quietly, but they waited and would continue to wait until Bear had eaten all he wanted to eat. No one would dispute Bear having his fill first.

Another also waited. On a hilltop overlooking the river, Coyote sat and watched the riverside gathering. When Bear finished and moved away, Coyote would approach - perhaps. Coyote also studied the valley for a sign of his deadly enemy, Wolf Pack. Wolf Pack hated Coyote, and only extreme hunger would cause Coyote to dare risk the presence of Wolf Pack.

As Bear ate, Eagle became impatience. Eagle hopped toward Bison remains. “Arrrkkk,” said Bear, his massive paw waving Eagle away.

After time, Bear had eaten his fill. He looked at Raven and with a low growl he said, “Thank you, Raven. Now you eat.” Bear stood guard over Bison while Raven ate. Raven tore meat from the bones and swallowed. “Cur-ruk, cur-ruk” said Raven to Bear. “May it go well with you, friend Bear.” Then Raven picked a piece of meat and flew off. He would cache it against a return of winter.

Bear turned and moved away. Raven tribe and Magpie tribe and Eagle moved in to feed on Bison with urgent disorder and raucous squabbling. From the hilltop, Coyote approached. He, too, was hungry. Bison would sustain the life of many. In a few weeks, when his bones were beginning to bleach in the sun, tufts of his winter coat would line the nests of many birds. Bison was unable to sustain his life, but he gave sustenance to many other lives.

Circling high over the valley, Raven saw many signs of life emerging from its winter dormancy. He also watched as the brown spot of Bear moved into the forest. To no one in particular, Raven said, “Cur-ruk.”

Western Birds VI

2011-08-10T07:51:00.000-04:00

Continuing with acceptable photos from our Western travel, here are three of the Western Meadowlark ....

Western Meadowlark

Cliff Swallow ...

Cliff Swallow

Rock Wren ...

Rock Wren

Robin Half Truths

2011-08-06T07:28:00.000-04:00

American Robin

The robin may be the most familiar songbird in North America. It nests in our cities, suburbs, towns, and villages. It inhabits our farms and gardens, our prairies and mountains. It is at home in old growth forests, second and third growth forests, brushland, grassland, seashore, lakeside. A ten inch gray bird with an orange or reddish breast is immediately recognizable as a robin.

A hundred years ago, Forbush wrote of the robin: “he knows all the folks and they all know him. Why then should one write about his haunts and habits, which should be well known to everybody? In answer to this it may be said in truth that most people really know very little about him.”

Consider, for example, these half truths about the robin:

- The robin eats worms.

- Robins go south for the winter.

- Watch for the first robin of the year; it will be a sign that Spring is coming.

In the big city of Detroit where I grew up, the robin was one of the few birds I recognized. I watched the robin run on the grass, pause, listen, peck at the ground, and pull out a earthworm, then fly to its nest in the elm where it fed its young. As Fall made the transition to Winter and the ground began to freeze, the robin disappeared. It had gone south. In March, the first robin running across the lawn and pulling up an earthworm was soon followed by daffodils and tulips. Everybody knew these truths.

But they are all half truths. When raising its young, the robin needs protein and will gather that protein from whatever source is handy. This summer I have watched robins gathering protein from the lawn around my home, from urban parks, from mountain meadows, from grassy prairies, from forest floors, from steaming geyser basins. I did not see a single robin pull an earthworm from the ground. I saw them with beaks full of grubs, small dragonflies, and all other manner and variety of insects and creepy crawlies.

Hot summer weather is followed by the cold of winter when the insect protein disappears. That means the robins have to go south where the weather is warmer and they can find insect food. Right?

Wrong. Most of the year the robin diet consists of fruit: “there is hardly a wild fruit of any kind produced in the North that Robins do not eat, swallowing pits and seeds of the smaller fruit with the pulp and ejecting the undigested parts through the mouth. Thus they become distributors and planters of nearly all our wild fruits.”

Forbush continues on the robin’s diet: “Its percentage of vegetal food is larger than that of any other American thrush. This vegetal matter is mainly fruit, which constitutes over fifty per cent of the entire aliment for the year, but more than four fifths of this is wild fruit.”

In other words, for most of the year, the robin is vegetarian.

It is true, but misleading, that robins go south for the winter. It would be more accurate to say that the robin population shifts to the south. The birds which breed in our neighborhoods leave, often to be replaced by robins from the boreal forests to the north. Many robins spend the entire winter in New England. They roost among the evergreens, feed on winter berries, and come into the fields or towns when the snow retreats during a thaw. Hence, the annual January question: “I saw a robin. It is not even close to Spring. What’s it doing here?” Simple answer: Living on the fruit of the land. I have photographs of the robin in my yard every winter month; it feeds on apples from the old apple tree and dried up crabapples. It picks rose thrips and winterberries.

A single robin, or even a small flock of robins, is not a sign of Spring. However, beginning roughly in mid-March, robin flocks begin moving north. They travel up the river valleys, moving from tree to tree and bush to bush, feeding on the remaining fruit and emerging insects. As Spring inches into reality, they swarm across the damp fields and grassy spreads where snow has just melted. As they forage, they give me the impression that they are oriented toward their goal somewhere to the north. The robin flocks are among the first songbirds to arrive in the Spring, closely following the Red-winged Blackbirds.

As they move northward, the flocks begin to disperse. Like many other songbirds, the robin goes through a personality change. He has spent the Fall and Winter in amiable association with others of his kind, benefitting from many eyes in the flock watching for danger and many individuals searching for food. But when he alights in my old maple tree and begins to sing, that all changes.

When the robins sings, the breeding season has begun. The males with whom he spent the Winter with are now rivals. He pursues them. Jealously he battles them. His territory belongs to him, and he excludes all except his mate.

And so ... when the robin flies near your home and sees another robin, he will battle that robin and chase it from his territory. It matters not a whit if the robin who has invaded his realm is merely his own reflection in one of your windows. He will attack it day after day after day.

For several years robins nested in a bush next to our home and between two windows. For weeks, the male attacked his image, banging against the window over and over and over. The one word explanation is testosterone. The hormonal driven impulse to protect his exclusive breeding rights trumps all sense and reason.

The robin eats whatever protein rich food it can find, including the occasional worm. Most of the year, it eats fruit. The robin goes south for the winter. For some robins, New England is the south; robins may be seen during any winter month. The first robin of the year is not a sign of Spring (especially in the middle of January), but when the robin flocks move up the river valleys, Spring will be along shortly.

Good birding!

Western Birds V - Photographer's Luck

2011-08-01T18:32:00.000-04:00

In the category of photographer's luck - I offer this Lark Sparrow as it takes flight in the South Dakota Badlands.

Lark Sparrow

There is not the same degree of luck in the following photos of the Grasshopper Sparrow, but still plenty of satisfaction. A couple of years ago in Arizona in the winter, it was all I could do to get a glimpse of this bird. But during the breeding season in the South Dakota grasslands, it was prominent on many perches.

Grasshopper Sparrow

Clearly, this gentleman is singing with full-throated gusto - which is a bit of a disconnect, since the song of the Grasshopper Sparrow is an insect-like buzz lacking in musical qualities ...

Grasshopper Sparrow

And finally for this post, a female Western Bluebird. Songbird photography often involves cropping and adjustments, but this photo is unprocessed, ruled only by her ephemeral beauty and poise ...


Western Bluebird (female)

Good birding!

Robin Redbreast

2011-07-30T06:00:00.020-04:00


European Robin - aka Robin Redbreast - aka Robin © Whiskybottle \| Dreamstime.com

The American Robin is not a robin. English colonists came to North America for religious freedom and economic gain, and to escape from poverty and oppression. Carving a life out of a strange, new land took all of their energies. The niceties and precision of the developing sciences had to wait. When they named something new, they often drew on experience from their old land, or even nostalgia for the old land.

Such was the case with the “robin.” They saw a bird with a red breast, and it brought to mind the robin back in England. This robin (now officially known as the European Robin) bore a superficial resemblance to the bird they encountered in North America; the robin back home had, and still has, an orange-red face and breast.

Ornithological precision lay far in the future for the first English colonists. They tended to call anything with a red breast a robin. The Eastern Bluebird was a robin. The Eastern Towhee (formerly the Rufous-sided Towhee) carried the name “Ground Robin.” The Robin Snipe might be the Red Knot or one of the two dowitchers.

One could say that the name, “Robin,” was strewn around indiscriminately. The Baltimore Oriole was called the Golden Robin; the Cedar Waxwing was the Canadian Robin, and the Red-breasted Merganser was known as the Sea Robin.

“Robin” seems to be of French origin, a diminutive of Robert, but the English bear the responsibility for attaching the name to the bird. The European Robin began as Redbreast, then acquired the pet name, Robin Redbreast, and eventually Redbreast was dropped. This European Robin is the Robin Redbreast of the nursery rhyme:

Little Robin Redbreast sat upon a tree,
Up climbed pussycat and down went he,
Down came pussycat, away Robin ran.
Says little Robin Redbreast, "Catch me if you can."
Little Robin Redbreast flew upon a wall,
Pussycat jumped after him, and almost had a fall.
Little Robin chirped and sang and what did pussy say?
Pussycat said, "Mew," and Robin flew away.

The European Robin also inspired:

Who killed Cock Robin?
I, said the Sparrow,
with my bow and arrow,
I killed Cock Robin.

In North America, the common name, “robin,” has gradually dropped away from many of its early associations. The officially sanctioned name for our robin is American Robin. This distinguishes it from other birds in the world named Robin. For example, there are tropical and Central American robins which occasionally stray into North America, especially along the Rio Grande: White-throated Robin, Rufous-backed Robin, and Clay-colored Robin.

In the process of researching how our robin got its name, I encountered the term, “round robin.” The term is used for any activity in which a group participates in a circular manner. For example, in sports, round-robin refers to every player or team in a group taking turns to play one another a set number of times.

The Dictionary of Word Origins attributes the origin to a document which was signed by multiple parties in a circle to make it more difficult to determine the order in which it was signed. The first round-robin document was signed on the brig, Catherine, at Gibralter in 1612.

“The crew was discontented but well aware that the captain had the right to enforce discipline by hanging to the yardarm whomever he decided was the chief dissenter. The first name signed to a petition was likely to be taken as sufficient evidence of leadership and justify the extreme penalty. To avoid this fate for any one individual the crew decided to append their names in the form of a circle. Thus all signatures were on an equal basis and the captain could scarcely hang the whole crew. The story goes that a statuette of a Robin on a circular base was close at hand. This was used to trace a circle which formed a guide for writing the signatures around it. This device to protect individual petitioners henceforth became known as a “round robin.” (Choate, American Bird Names)

So as you see, when “robin” crops up in nursery rhymes or language idioms, it does not refer to our American Robin. Our American Robin has done nothing to earn its place in the nursery jingle except for its vague resemblance to the European Robin. The English, by the way, do not need the precision of “European” when referring to their Robin, any more than we need the precision of “American” when referring to our Robin. Robin on their side of the pond means Robin, just as Robin on our side of the pond means (American) Robin.

American Robin

In fact, our American Robin (Turdus migratorius) is not even a robin. It is a thrush belonging to the thrush family, Turdidae. Some nomenclators with a consistency obsession would like to call the Turdidae robins, thrushes: for example, the Clay-colored Thrush (Turdus grayi) rather than Clay-colored Robin.

The European Robin which inspired the common name for our robin belongs to the family Muscicapinae, a family of Old World Flycatchers. They are thrush-like, insect-eating flycatchers in a family that includes the nightingales and Old World chats.

In the North American thrush family, Turdidae, our American Robin shares its Genus Turdus with the Varied Thrush. Other close relatives include the Eastern Bluebird (Genus Sialia) and several of our local thrushes: Wood Thrush (Genus Hylocichia) and in Genus Catharus, Veery, Bicknell’s, Swainson”s, and Hermit Thrushes.

Our Robin may not be a robin, but it keeps good family company with the thrushes.

Note: I did not take the photographs of the European Robin; their use is licensed by Dreamstime.com.

Western Birds IV

2011-07-28T06:00:00.004-04:00

On an evening drive up Signal Mountain in Grand Tetons NP, along the side the road, this Dusky Grouse (formerly Blue Grouse) was feeding. Even when I got out of the car and slowly approached, it was unconcerned about my presence. In a world inhabited by goshawk, eagle, fox, and coyote (among other dangers), I did wonder how this seemly oblivious bird could survive ...

Dusky Grouse

The grouse's ignorance of potential danger was a sharp contrast to the exceptional and very convincing performance put on by this "Killdeer" (at the Bowring Sandhills Ranch in Nebraska) - a superb broken wing act!

Killdeer

Also in the Nebraska sandhills, wetlands lined one of the highways. Just getting out of the car to scan the muddy edges and deeper water sent the avocets into something of a tizzy. Several took turns flying wide circles around us and voicing their displeasure at our intrusion. Just keep going! ...

American Avocet

Western Birds III - Raptors

2011-07-25T15:05:00.000-04:00

My western travels yielded several raptors. Among those which also provided photo ops, three were particular treats.

In a large prairie dog colony in Badlands NP, I had several opportunities to watch this Burrowing Owl. It uses old burrows for its nest. As I took a few steps closer, it flew a short distance, and then disappeared into a burrow. It popped back into view and posed ,,,

Burrowing Owl

Also in Badlands NP, I stopped to look at a hawk perched on a fence post. For a change, the aging mental computer quickly listed and eliminated possibilities, leaving only a hawk with which I am not terribly familiar. I announced to the car, "Ferruginous Hawk."

Ferruginous Hawk

In the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone in Yellowstone NP, I had the treat of looking down on an Osprey nest built atop a rocky pinnacle. Though safe from most predators, the parent kept a vigilant watch over the 3 young chicks ...

Osprey