Pelagic Trip & Plum Island Birding

Here are a few more photos from the pelagic trip off the Massachusetts coast & Plum Island earlier this week.

Greater Shearwater ...

Cory's Shearwater ...

Atlantic White-sided Dolphins ...

Hump-backed Whale diving ...

Osprey ...

Snowy Egrets in a feeding frenzy (Sandy Point) ...

American Kestrel (female) ...

Good Birding!

Pelagic Trip - Documentation

Monday I did a Bird/Whale Watch from Newburyport. Trip went out about 20 miles. In addition to the whales, this trip also "pursued" birds, and included staff from Joppa Flats Audubon Center for spotting. Following the trip, I went briefly to Plum Island, and next morning back to the island before heading to NH for Mississippi Kite.

For now, just some documentation photos of the pelagic birds, beginning with ...

Manx Shearwater (lifer) ...

Cory's Shearwater ...

Greater Shearwater ...

Sooty Shearwater ...

Parasitic Jaeger ...

Wilson's Storm-Petrel ...

... and a shorebird, but one often seen far out at sea. Only my second sighting, and much better than last year when I first ticked it.

Red-necked Phalarope ...

More later when I have finally processed the photos.

Good birding!!

Random Backyard Photos - New Camera

The last week and a half was expected to be busy with more family and grandkids visiting, but unexpected things made it even busier. However, I have managed to begin getting familiar with my new camera and lens - Canon 50D, 28-135mm lens, & 100-400mm L series lens.

Heading to Newburyport tomorrow for a Bird/whale Watch trip, then Plum Island and shore birds.

Here are a few photos from the last week.

Chipping Sparrow in apple tree ...

Chipping Sparrow on platform feeder ...

Madela, the grand-dog (just finished eating cat food - was hoping she might get the groundhog - some hunter!) ...

Mourning Dove in apple tree ...

Downy Woodpecker (young female) ...

Day Lily, one of many varieties in the garden ...

Ruby-throated Hummingbird ...

Good Birding!

The Herring Gull as a Symbol

Earlier this week, I posted on my blog a series of pictures of a Herring Gull bathing. It was a mature adult bird. It stepped into a pool, dunked its head and body in the water, splashed, then stepped out, stretching its wings and shaking water from its feathers.

I took the series of photographs along the Maine coast. The sleek gray and white plumage of this large gull melded with the matte gray and black of the rocks. The only color was in the yellow beak, and the scattered flecks of pale green lichen.

Sometime afterward, I found a rather odd association working through my mind, one that related the ablutions of this gull with those of Venus, or one of her attendants. The goddess pauses for a short bath in some hidden pool. She steps from the water carefully, droplets dampening the ground as they fall from long tresses or are shaken loose from stretched arms. I had stumbled upon the scene. Secretly and forbiddenly, I photographed the sleek and graceful goddess.

Botticelli’s “The Birth of Venus” also worked through my mind. The goddess rises from the sea. She stands naked on a shell as two Zephyrs, personification of the winds, blow her toward the shore, even as the Herring Gull, often seen far from the shore, always comes to the shore.

Can the gull be a symbol of gracefulness or beauty? On the wing there is often sensuousness in a gull’s flight as it dips and whirls on invisible air currents. Aground, at rest, or in its bath, can the gull present neatness and dignity in demeanor? - self-possession and confidence? - the allure of beauty?

I am well aware that few people would juxtapose a Herring Gull with a forbidden glimpse of a naked goddess taking a moment for cleansing refreshment, much less with beauty or sensuousness.

The large gulls are more likely to evoke an opposite reaction, one of distaste and dislike. I will be reminded by many that gulls are noisy. They eat anything. They steal food from one another. They prey on the eggs and chicks of smaller seabirds. They chase fishing boats to grab up the offal. They swirl in masses over garbage dumps. When I sat on the rocks to watch the gulls, this was the sort of behavior I was looking for and expecting to photograph.

I was hoping that I would begin to acquire photographs which would be my imitation of a series of paintings by Jamie Wyeth which I had seen a few days before at the Farnsworth Museum in Rockport, Maine. Wyeth has spent a great deal of time on the coast and islands of Maine. His artist’s eye has led him beyond the usual observations of the New England seacoast where gulls are merely background - ubiquitous, but not always noticed - a soaring outline but not a deliberate subject. Wyeth, by contrast, has often drawn and painted the Herring Gull and he has observed it: “these gulls are no white doves, but nasty pugnacious contenders for their needs and desires.”

Most of us, when we project human perceptions and values onto birds, project those traits which embody the sweet or adorable - those traits which suggest innocence and perhaps even goodness. In a complete reversal of the usual, Wyeth employed the gulls to represent the dark side of human nature, the side we would prefer not to acknowledge. His series of paintings, “Seven Deadly Sins,” links gull behavior to human behavior in a way that is evident, dramatic ... and disturbing .

Sin is not something which is much heard of, or talked about, in our wider culture. Even in the narrow culture of the religious right, sin is pretty much confined to geography located below the belt. As recent news events demonstrate, these folk often lose (or loose) the belt, and when they have the misfortune of getting caught, they lament loudly and repent, confident that God will make them better (never wondering why God didn’t keep them from being bad in the first place).

They have harbored the deadly sin, Lust. What these poor unfortunates are oblivious to is that Lust is just one of the deadly sins of which they have been guilty. There are six more, and each, according to the theology which emerged in the Middle Ages, puts the immortal soul in danger of eternal damnation. Or if you prefer to keep things on an entirely humanistic level - each can totally screw things up for the individual, and all the rest of us.

In Greed, Wyeth paints a triumphant gull standing over the pile of ice cream and pie he has claimed from some picnicker, while other gulls stand mutely in the background. This Herring Gull is but a pale imitation of the corporate bonuses and collective greed that now have the rest of the economy not just looking on, but scrambling to gather scraps.

The mouth of a single gull is over stuffed with a fish in Wyeth’s painting of Gluttony, while supermarkets and national obesity contrast with soup lines and malnutrition.

Here is the complete list of the deadly seven: Anger, Greed, Envy, Gluttony, Pride, Sloth, and Lust. If you have ever watched gulls cleaning up a harbor or feeding in a municipal dump, you can readily imagine how they might be used to personify the ugly side of human nature.

Occasionally the gull emerges as a different kind of symbol. In the Netherlands, the gull, standing for freedom, is almost a national symbol. In Utah, The California Gull (a close relative of the Herring Gull) is the state bird. In 1848, it gained a reputation as a protector of crops. Swarms of crickets attacked pioneer food supplies. Reportedly, flocks of the birds arrived, settled in the half-ruined fields and gorged themselves on the attacking crickets. The voracious appetite of the gulls saved the settler's crops ... and lives.

But I admit that I have found no hint anywhere of the gull being associated with a goddess in her bath, or rising naked from the sea on a shell. That is solely the result of my mind taking its own free journey.

At least I know how the journey started. It began when I was looking for gull behavior which would confirm Wyeth’s using them in his series on the seven deadly sins. I did not find Wyeth in the live gulls on that particular day. Instead, I was intrigued by a sense of beauty hiding behind the ordinary and the mundane.

Birding does that to me when I slow it down enough to look - not just watch and count. Increasingly I find that makes for good birding.

Herring Gull

Following is a series of photos I took in late June on Schoodic Point in Maine. Thoughts about the gull will form this week's Reformer column (posted on Saturday), so please come back for some philosophical musings.

Common Loon

A couple of years ago when doing the Vermont Breeding Bird Atlas field work, I recorded Common Loon as observed and a potential breeding species on Sunset Lake, Brattleboro. This year they nested! - a first record.

Yesterday was a day in between rain. Favorite companion and I took our kayaks to the lake in early afternoon. The parents were busy caring for their two chicks.

A note about the photos - I used full zoom and my teleconverter lens (equivalent 800+mm), then cropped the photos, so I was not anywhere near as close as the photos may suggestion. On one occasion I may have drifted a little too close and heard a single protest, so I moved slowly away.

Sitting still in the water I was surprised on two occasion when they came closer to me, rather than moving away, so I don't think I was disturbing them.


While one parent (we'll say, mom) watched the chicks, dad was off fishing. Several times he came to the family with a small fish in his beak.

I did not observe the parents feeding the chicks, i.e., putting food in their mouths. Instead, it appeared that the food was put in the water, and the chicks had to duck, or dive, for it. It appears that mom is watching her youngster to see if he/she gets the hang of it.

Looks like nap time after lunch for one of the chicks.

Good birding!

What's a "Sputzie"?

When I lived in western Pennsylvania twenty-five years ago, there were a number local idioms and grammatical quirks which I had to get used to. If a person was expecting company, they had to “red up the house” in preparation. Out for an evening walk, they “went the street down.” Early in our sojourn, my wife was holding our two year old daughter as she hid her face from the unknown people around her, prompting someone to remark, “Your baby’s strange,” which we were happy to learn meant “shy.”

Recently I learned another western Pennsylvania colloquialism when friends, both distant natives of that region, were visiting with us. We were sitting at the kitchen table with morning coffee, watching the activity at the bird feeders. John, a retired forester, knew most of the birds which paid the feeders a visit. I was refilling the coffee mugs when he said, “Ah, look at the different sputzies.”

“Sputzies?” I asked in mid-pour as I looked at the feeders.

“That’s what we called nondescript birds - that’s just a sputzie.”

There were three “sputzies” at the feeder, all females: House Finch, Purple Finch, and Rose-breasted Grosbeak. They are distinguishable from one another, but the term “nondescript” is still very appropriate. Each in its own way is streaked brown and white; there is nothing about any of them which draws particular attention.

When birders ooh and aah at some songbird, they are usually oohing and aahing at a male bird. The brilliant red bib of the Rose-breasted Grosbeak is augmented by the flashy black and white of tail and wings, and often earns the bird a place among a birder’s “favorite birds.” The contrast between the conspicuousness of the male and the drabness of the female could hardly be greater. But it is not unusual.

The male Purple Finch is a rich red wine color; the female is a drab brown bird. The male Indigo Bunting is brilliant blue; the female is a drab brown bird with just flecks of blue in her coloring. Black-throated Blue Warbler describes the male; the female is a small nondescript brown bird. The Common Yellowthroat has a bright yellow breast and a prominent black mask highlighted with white; the female is a plain olive drab and dull yellow bird. The Red-winged Blackbird has his flashy red epaulets; the female is dark, streaked, and drab.

The striking difference between the sexes of such birds (called sexual dimorphism) probably serves a number of purposes. The color and song of the male is a sexual attractant; it aids in establishing and maintaining his breeding territory against rivals. It may also be a defensive tactic against predators; he draws attention to himself and away from the female and the nest, both of which remain inconspicuous and hidden.

Of course, not all species adopt these breeding techniques. Sometimes the females are simply duller looking than the males: for example, Evening Grosbeak, Eastern Towhee, Northern Cardinal, American Goldfinch, and many warblers. Often there is no distinguishable difference between the sexes: for example, chickadees, titmice, thrushes, crows, and jays. The birds know the difference, and that’s all that matters.

And, not all sputzies are females. Sparrows are almost all sputzies. Distinguishing one species of sparrow from another often requires careful observation. Song Sparrows are common, sometimes abundant around my bird feeders and I often pay little attention to them. A few days ago I was watching the Song Sparrows more closely than usual, and noticed that one did not have the characteristic “stick pin” on its breast. It was a Savannah Sparrow.

White-crowned Sparrows are migrant visitors to the bird feeder and quite distinctive with their black and white streaked head. But, the juvenile White-crowned Sparrow does not have those bright white head stripes. They are buffy and rufous, making it look something like an oversized Chipping Sparrow. Sometimes these immature White-crowned Sparrows stay around late into the fall or early winter, when they are occasionally joined by Tree Sparrows. What often happens when I glance out the window is that I finally notice that one of the plain-breasted, juvenile White-crowned Sparrows is too big to be a Chipping Sparrow and also has a breast spot; the mental processor lumbers along and I finally announce to my favorite companion that a Tree Sparrow is at the feeder.

But the real sputzies of the bird world are the empidonax flycatchers. Here in the East, they are the Acadian, Willow, Alder and Least Flycatchers. You can tell they are flycatchers, but making further identification by field marks is very difficult. Some bird guides, for example, have only one picture for the Alder and Willow Flycatchers; for a long time these two “empids” were considered to be the same species, the Traill’s Flycatcher. There are virtually no differences in field marks, not even subtle ones, between the two species. They look alike, and their ranges overlap. The only way to distinguish the two species is by their song. In fact, song is the most reliable way to identify any of the empidonax flycatchers, and a very useful way to identify quickly, and reliably, other sputzie-like flycatchers such as the Eastern Wood-Pewee, Olive-sided Flycatcher, or Eastern Phoebe.

As an aside - don’t despair over the songs (or voice) of the flycatchers. With a little practice, they are distinguishable. Indeed, you probably know the phoebe already. It loves to nest around human structures. It arrives early in the spring and “sings” incessantly: “phoe-be ... Phoe-bee ... phoe-Bee ....” On and on and on.

Idioms do not transfer easily from one part of the country to another, but my friend’s introduction of the term “sputzie” may be an exception, at least in my personal birding vocabulary. When I am frustrated by some elusive, nondescript bird flittering around in a deep thicket or hiding in leaves high overhead, I can mutter, “Sputzie,” and move on. If I am with less experienced and perhaps gullible birding companions, I may even be able to say it with enough authority to make them accept this as an identification ... at least until they start checking the index of their bird guide.

Good birding!

Post of "Tailfeathers," Brattleboro Reformer, Friday, July 31, 2009

First photo includes White-throated Sparrow (white stripe & brown stripe morphs), Song Sparrow, White-crowned Sparrow (juvenile). Other photos are female Rose-breasted Grosbeak, Song Sparrow, juvenile White-crowned Sparrow, Willow Flycatcher.

Quick Trip to Cape May

We were in Cap May for a family memorial over the weekend. The kids and grandkids were all there, so evening and Sunday morning were at the beach. If anyone is interested, you can pop over to "At Home in South Newfane" for a few pictures of the world's cutest kids.

I did get out one evening and early one morning for some photography and birding. The highlight bird had to be the Black-bellied Whistling Duck which has not been reported in Cape May for many years (it belongs in Florida and Texas); it had many local birders flocking for a look.

... and the bird obligingly scratched the itch of many ...

The Least Terns were busy over the Conservancy as they hunted food for their hungry young.

... and they were still as aggressive toward intruders as they were a month ago - quite unhappy with beach strollers like me ...

And for just a sampling of other feathered friends ... beginning with the Great Egret (always a favorite of mine, as readers know) ...

Many, many Mute Swans have nearly grown young and were moving about (these are not young) ...

In the nests at the State Park, Purple Martins had demanding young (redundant, I know, since the young of all are demanding, even cute grandkids) ...

... and at least one Mallard had a young brood (maybe a second on the year). Like all young, especially cute when they finally settle down for the night.

Good birding!