helping out with a breeding bird census

I went with Eileen Schwinn yesterday to help with the ELIAS Breeding Bird Count. Our territory was in the pine barrens on both sides of Route 51 (the Moriches/Riverhead Road) including the Bald Hill Trail and Hunters Garden. The common birds of the pine barrens -- Ovenbird, Pine Warbler, Black-capped Chickadee, Chipping Sparrow, Eastern Towhee -- were active and vocal. Both the Bald Hill Trail and Hunters Garden go into richer areas with water at or near the surface and a typically dense vegetation of pine barrens wetland plants. Among the birds found here -- all almost certainly nesting -- were Veery (with its haunting song), Hairy Woodpecker (a noisy pair), Red-eyed Vireo, Tufted Titmouse, Eastern Wood-pewee, American Robin, Baltimore Oriole, Gray Catbird, Common Yellowthroat. A couple of serious misses: Scarlet Tanager and Wood Thrush (the latter quite scarce his year).

Also seen were the Pipevine Swallowtail (a woodland butterfly that uses the locally common sassafras tree as the food source for its caterpillars) and the Common Whitetail, a striking 'skimmer' with a chalk-white body that positively gleams in the dark forest understory. These dragonflies patrol territory over the mud puddles in the woods and show off their striking biplane-style wings (transparent with a dark band across the middle)

Best of all was a singing Hermit Thrush in the woods on the other side of Route 51. This is not an uncommon bird in migration and winter but it is not so easy to find and hear in singing season. The ethereal music of this bird has been celebrated by various writers, most notably that great Long Island poet, Walt Whitman. The poet described it and its habitat beautifully and accurately in "When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom'd" where it sings the elegy for the martyred President Lincoln. It is perhaps the most inspiring bird song on Long Island or even in North America and it is most impressive in its natural woodland setting. We only heard it for a few moments but long enough to reassure ourselves that this magical bird was still with us.

Eric Salzman