Eastern Europe

On Monday I'm leaving for Eastern Europe and, except for a couple of short reports this weekend, I will probably not be filing anything until I get back in the second week of September.

This morning was a continuation of the situation of the past couple of days: a few migrants, a few late-summer birds and otherwise quiet. The migrants include some warblers (American Redstart and Prairie Warbler seen this morning along with Yellow and Common Yellowthroat). Small numbers of N Flickers have appeared (unlike most of the night-flying passerines, the Flickers move during the day and also make a lot of noise) along with American Robins (which fly at night but move well into the daytime). House Wrens are still here and remain active along with Green and Great Blue Herons, Snowy Egrets, Belted Kingfishers, Royal Terns and Osprey.

Eric Salzman

Kingfishers on the move

There were at least four Belted Kingfishers on the creek this morning: one perched in the scraggly cedar on the far side of the pond, two others engaged in a chase overhead and a fourth going the opposite way and cutting up the middle of the creek. There were other sightings as well but it was too difficult to identify duplicate birds. Kingfishers are usually rather solitary birds; I would guess that their presence in some small numbers suggests migrating birds.

There were warblers in the area as well but mostly too high in the trees and too quick to move deep into the canopy to identify. One new bird that was identified was a first year male Redstart to which can be added small numbers of Yellow Warblers and Yellowthroats.

Some very anxious and persistantly chipping Cardinals and Carolina Wrens suggested the presence of a predator -- probably an owl somewhere deep in the greenery. As is often the case, I wasn't able to see it from the path and, on a hot, muggy, buggy morning, I didn't feel like bushwhacking through thorn and thicket to find it.

Eric Salzman

migration underway

There was a noticeable movement of birds last night with warblers and other migrants showing up in what I call the migration trap -- a screen of oak and pine trees fronted by shrubs and facing east across Weesuck Creek. It was quite cool and slightly misty shortly after 6 am as the sun came peeking over Pine Neck. As the sun hit the 'migration trap', it was easy to see bird activity. The influx included the day's best bird, a female-type Canada Warbler, as well as several Common Yellowthroats and Yellow Warblers, Red-eyed Vireo, Ruby-throated Hummingbird (always a winner), a N. Flicker as well as numbers of House Wrens, American Robins and Gray Catbirds. There appeared to be an influx of young Red-winged Blackbirds which seemed to be particularly numerous plus swallows (mostly Barn) on the move and overhead V's of Double-crested Cormorants. A noisy clutch of Blue Jays had almost surely discovered an owl but, even with their guidance, I couldn't find it.

Eric Salzman

a wren morning

A wren trifecta -- Carolina, House and Marsh -- marked this morning's birding. That's three of the four expected Eastern wrens (the fourth, Winter Wren -- now considered a separate species from the Eurasian Wren -- is expected only in migration or winter). All three wrens are exceedingly vocal but the Marsh Wren took the prize in an almost continuous sequence of low-key bubbling singing that made its presence known long before it was seen. House Wren is a locally common breeder both in inhabited areas and in the Pine Barrens. Marsh Wrens are much less common as breeders than they used to be now that the South Shore bays are mostly tidal with Phragmites taking over their edges (Marsh Wren much prefers Cattails). Both House and Marsh Wren are migratory while Carolina Wren has become a very common permanent resident in recent decades with the warming of our winters.

Couldn't find any further evidence of yesterday's mystery marsh bird. Two warblers were seen: Common Yellowthroat (several) and a tree-top warbler migrant whose specific identity will forever remain a mystery. However there were Purple Martins and a few Barn Swallows moving overhead and lots of Catbirds along the marsh edge and in the Tupelos.

Here is Eileen Schwinn's photo of one of the young Green Herons on the edge of our salt pond. You can see the scruffy-looking crest as well as the streaky neck that mark this as a young bird, probably the one I have been calling the runt of the litter.

Eric Salzman

PO Box 775

East Quogue NY 11942

631 653-5236

es@ericsalzman.com

www.ericsalzman.com

Bobwhites & waterbirds

Eileen Schwinn came over this morning to see if we could refind the Bobwhites and almost immediately we heard a loud three-parted "let's all stay together" (or "watch out there's trouble") call and then soft whistling sounds coming from the dense vegetation between the woods and the marsh. Eventually two young birds emerged from the brush, moving in front of us and then disappearing into the woods approximately where the loud commands were coming from. Presumably those stern calls come from the adult bird (mamma one assumes); the other birds were clearly young 'uns all.

Out in the marsh, there was something moving in the Spartina making soft chippering sounds (not unlike what I heard a week or so ago). Whatever it was came right to the edge of the main channel, only a few feet from where we were standing. We were teetering on the very edge of marshability -- one step further and we might have been up to our necks in man-eating (or woman-eating) muck. Eileen caught a glimpse of a streaky back suggesting that it was a marsh bird of a certain size but we couldn't move even an inch forward to investigate this intriguing presence or try to flush it out. All the rails have streaky backs of course; the odds were on Clapper Rail. We waited patiently but, unlike the Bobwhites, it did not emerge.

Other birds of the morning: Yellow-crowned Night-Heron, Green Heron and Spotted Sandpiper on the edge of the pond, Royal Terns on the creek, a small flock of Purple Martins plus Barn and Tree Swallows moving overhead. The Yellow-crowned Night-Heron and the Green are 'upland' herons in the sense that they breed in isolated pairs on this side of the bay (the other egrets and herons breed on islands in the bay or don't breed in these parts at all). The swallows and martins are already headed south, the vanguard of the big flocks yet to come.

An amusing sight: as we were watching from the dock at the edge of the property, a first- or second-summer Great Black-backed Gull landed with a crab on the Aldrich Boat Yard dock just opposite. A second, similar-looking bird came in right after it, calling loudly. The first gull let the second gull land at the edge of the dock and walk towards it and its succulent prize. But as soon as Gull #2 got within beak length of Gull #1, the latter dropped the crab on the dock just long enough to lunge at the new arrival, knocking it off the dock into the water. Gull #1 then retrieved its delicate Catch of the Day morsel to enjoy in peaceful solitude while Gull #2 swam a certain sulky distance away before turning and watching to see if there might be leftovers.

Eric Salzman

a surprise

As I reached the upper end of the marsh trail and was turning into the woods this morning, I heard some soft, rather melodious whistles of unknown origin. Even more curiously, they seemed to come first from one place, then another and then still another. After turning around twice trying to pinpoint where the sounds were coming from, I decided to follow the loudest of the whistles as it seemed to move up the trail in front of me. Suddenly, an unseen bird exploded from my feet with a whirring of wings. Wild Turkey? American Woodcock? In a moment, I had the answer. Running on the trail ahead of me and coming out of the brush on either side were a dozen half-grown N. Bobwhite. I could follow them for a short distance until they turned off the trail and headed into heavy cover, whistling all the way. The exploding bird was mamma trying to draw my attention away from her still grounded brood. The young birds' whistles are either a method of keeping in touch (i.e. keeping the flock or covey together) or else a signal to mamma where her babies are hiding.

This is not the end of the story. As I was writing this on the porch, what was presumably the same covey came right out into the open by the porch windows. Let's hope that the neighborhood cats are not on the prowl!

The tide was low this morning and the heron count included the season's first Yellow-crowned Night-Heron plus the more familiar Great Blue and Green Herons plus Snowy Egret -- at one point all four in the same glass. Plus Spotted Sandpiper.

Eric Salzman

Waterbirds, butterflies and wildflowers, yesterday and today

Yesterday morning -- before going to Cupsogue -- I did an abbreviated version of my habitual walk on the property and found noisy Marsh Wrens at the edge of the marsh. Also seven or eight Snowy Egrets flew up from the neck of the pond and there were clumps of egrets -- mostly Snowies but including Great Egrets -- in marshes at Cupsogue (Moriches Bay) and perched on duck blinds in the Shinnecock Bay marshes. A sure sign that egrets are on the move.

The tide was very low on the pond this morning (after a sequence of very high tides) and two or three of the young Green Herons were present along with a Greater Yellowlegs, Least and Spotted Sandpipers. Flocks of young Redwinged Blackbirds were all over the place.

Noted at Cupsogue (but omitted in all the Marbled Godwit excitement of both previous reports) was the presence of butterflies moving along the beach, notably fair numbers of Monarchs plus Cloudless Sulphur, American Copper and a probable Spicebush Swallowtail. On the wildflower front, the first of the little white Marsh Asters are in flower on our marsh and Evening Primrose is in as full a bloom as it ever achieves (the beautiful yellow flowers appear in twos and threes at the top of the plant but wither in bright sunlight, lasting longer only on cloudy days).

Eric Salzman

P.S.: I mispelt John Heidecker's name yesterday (he took the photograph of the squabbling Marbled Godwits). Apologies.

How Many Marbled Godwits are @ Cupsogue

I changed this morning's SoFo walk from Shinnecock Inlet to Cupsogue because of MARBLED GODWITS and Marbled Godwits there were aplenty. As we were walking out on the strand opposite the big spoil island at the north boundary of the main Cupsogue marsh no less than FIVE Marbled Godwits came sweeping in on a rising tide, landing right in front of us. The opportunity to see these birds close-up was extraordinary. Godwits are huge sandpipers (are there any bigger?) with two-toned upturned bills and a rusty coloration that is especially striking when the bird is in flight. They had to share the beach with several rather hostile Willets, numbers of smaller shore birds (Short-billed Dowitchers, Semipalmated Sandpipers, Semipalmated Plovers and Sandpipers, Ruddy Turnstones, Sanderlings) and many terns (mostly young and old Common Terns). This was not an entirely peaceable bit of sharing as squabbles erupted between the godwits and willets and among the godwits themselves. Godwits in fight mode use a bouncing, hopping, flighty style of attack-and-avoid (see John Heidegger's photo below). These little squabbles are however quickly settled without injury (those long upturned bills look too fragile to function as serious weapons).

Terns were everywhere -- mostly Commons with young birds in numbers hovering over the incoming water tumbling into one of the inlets in the marsh. Fish were coming in with the tide affording tern neophytess with an opportunity to hone their fishing skills. I even saw Willets catching what looked like young flatfish.

The overlook at Pike's Beach was our second stop. This miniature parklet, in the Village of Westhampton Dunes, overlooks a sand island that was being fast flooded by the rushing incoming tide; it looked like a rush hour subway car packed with commuter birds including no less than four more Marbled Godwits as well as D-c Cormorants and a couple of dozen Royal Terns. This island is perhaps a mile east of Cupsogue and I suspect that these Godwits were not four of the five birds seen earlier. So perhaps there are as many as nine Marbled Godwits in the area!

There were plenty of other birds at both sites: Black Skimmers (including some in juvenile plumage), Common, Forster's, Roseate, Least and Royal Terns, various shore birds including Greater Yellowlegs, a few Red Knots and a possible Western Willet. There were Osprey, Saltmarsh, Seaside and Song Sparrows, Yellow Warbler, Willow Flycatcher (feeding young; we could hear the chipping call of the young bird), Eastern Kingbird and at least one N. Flicker in the dune vegetation surrounding the marsh. Some Barn Swallows and a very few Tree Swallows were moving along the beach.

We returned via Dune Road on Shinnecock where the rising tide was flooding the road. A flooded grassy meadow on the south side of the road held numbers of Least Sandpipers, Lesser Yellowlegs and, notably, Pectoral Sandpipers -- perhaps as many as a dozen of them popping in and out of the grass.

Eric Salzman

4 Green Herons and a mystery solved

Four Green Herons flew up from the edges of the pond this morning, at least three of which were in juvenile plumage with the odd down-like feathers sticking up from their crests, visible even at a distance. Since the two adults are also in the area, there appear to be at least five of these birds around. The last young 'un to fly -- it flew weakly from one muddy edge to the another -- was probably the young bird that I saw two days ago, the presumed runt of the litter. It sat glumly on the mud, surprisingly well camouflaged by its streaky neck, dull gray back and speckled wing. I hope it survives; it seems to lack the vigor of its nestmates who flew up, perched high in the open and then took off at my approach.

Back at the house later in the morning, I heard a strange buzzing sound, unlike any bird call that I know. The house was surrounded with flocks of birds including chickadees, titmice, woodpeckers and blackbirds. As I managed to pinpoint the source of the sound high up in a dense Red Cedar, a bird flew out and perched on the branch of an oak not far away. But it was just another Common Grackle; clearly, I had the wrong bird. But then I heard the noise again and yet again and it was now coming from the very spot to which the bird had flown. I circled around, trying to get another view; perhaps there was something else on the other side of the tree. But no, it still looked like there was nothing there but a Common Grackle. Then I noticed that the bird was holding something down against the trunk and pecking at it. And there was that sound again -- or at least a broken off version of it. Suddenly the grackle straightened up and I could see that it was holding in its beak a huge cicada, wings and all. What I was hearing was the alarm or distress sound of a doomed Dog Day Cicada about to be eaten by a grackle even as its confreres were and are calmly calling all around right! Dog Day indeed!

To repeat the information about tomorrow morning at Cupsogue: I'll be leading a SoFo walk with Eileen Schwinn. We're meeting at the back (west end) of the Cupsogue Country Park parking lot at 8 am. If you get there before 8 am (we'll be there by 7:30 to have a look at the ocean from the park building deck), entrance is free. After 8, you'll probably be charged (but you can tell the guard at the entrance that you are just there to birdwatch on the bayside for a couple of hours and he/she might let you in without paying). I should say that as in recent weeks Cupsogue had been excellent for such species as Bald Eagle, Hudsonian and Marbled Godwits, Black Skimmer, many species of terns including Forsters, Black and Royal, and various small and medium shore birds. Prepare to get your feet wet if necessary. Weather looks promising and the tide should be good (low tide but starting to come in; the best tide for shore birding).

Eric Salzman

Green Herons again

Well I never found the nest but I did find the product of the nest! The Green Heron of the morning was a young bird in juvenile plumage. This bird not only had the dazed look of a recent fledgling but still had down feathers sticking out from its crown. Two other birds flew off as I approached leaving the young one to fend for him/herself. It didn't move right away and when it finally took off on its own it flew rather weakly to a nearby branch. It then flew again but remained in the area and was easy to refind. This all took place in the 'ecotone' or transition zone between the woods (where I have long suspected that Green Herons were nesting) and the marsh (where they feed).

The young bird made a kind of hissing noise -- almost snake-like! Don't recall seeing that mentioned in the field guides. These birds already have a kind of reptilian (not to say dinosaurian) look about them! Although they hunt at water's edge with the neck pulled back -- they look like a large football with a beak -- they can extend their neck until it is longer than its body. Sitting on a branch with the neck extended straight up makes and their bulky body below makes them look like a large exclamation point! And perhaps a long snake-like neck and a snakey hiss might make a good predator repellent!

Although I didn't get a good look at the two birds that flew off, they were silent and, as the adults usually call loudly when they fly up, I suspect that these might also have been young birds. The sub-adult bird I saw yesterday was probably not (as I thought) a second summer bird and may well have been one of this year's birds from the same nest. Herons begin to incubate their eggs (I believe 3-5 is normal) as soon as the first one is laid so the young do not develop evenly and do not leave the nest at the same time. Hence you can have more and less advanced birds from the same nest (sadly enough, if there is not enough food for all, the last and smallest often don't make it).

The entire edge area between the woods and the marsh was quite active this morning, especially at the head of the marsh where the Tupelos (or Pepperidge or Blackgum or Sourgum or Beetlegum or Nyssa sylvatica) are fruiting. Among the birds taking the fruits were a visiting N Mockingbird, Am Robins and many Gray Catbirds. I heard warbler chips but the only warbler seen was Common Yellowthroat: a bedraggled specimen doused in dew and a trim young male with his black mask coming in. As has been the case in the past week or so, House Wrens were also very active and noisy in the shrub area -- perhaps as many as three or four of them.

Yesterday evening between 5:30 and 6:30 pm there were as many as two dozen Common Swifts hurtling over the Westhampton green -- or, one should say, the village of Westhampton Beach; I was there to escort my granddaughter Juliette to an outdoor magic show where she also could meet up with her friends. The birds are starting to gather up to migrate in flocks even as growing-up granddaughters in juvenile plumage also begin to gather in flocks.

Eric Salzman

rail and heron

I put up a rail this morning from the marsh and at first glance I thought it was a Virginia Rail. First glance is all I had as it dangled briefly across my startled vision and then dropped down into high reeds on the other side never to be seen again. It looked quite plain in the early morning light with a long bill. It was smaller than a Green Heron which triggered the synapse which produced the readout: Virginia Rail. But "smaller than a Green Heron" is not really small enough for a Virginia Rail (which is half the size of a Green Heron) and, on second thought, I decided that it was a Clapper or (less likely) King Rail. Although the light was only fair and the glimpse was fleeting, I can say that it wasn't a very well marked bird and was probably a young of the year.

I also saw a sub-adult Green Heron, probably a product of the class of 2009 and not a bird of the year. The adult Green Herons are still in the neighborhood and I often hear them calling from inside the woodland where I think they may have a late nest. These days most of the action is on the water or wetlands: Royal Terns, Spotted Sandpiper (with or without spots), Great Blue Heron and Belted Kingfisher just about every day now.

Eric Salzman

a cautionary tale

Rimsky the dog was outside this morning on a long lead in front of the house when he started to bark. Seeing that his lead was caught -- it was wrapped around a bush at the edge of the woods -- I went out to try and free him. As I reached him and tried to attach his leash, I felt a hard jab on my hand that was like a cross between a sharp sting and a powerful blow. I realized that Rimsky was battling a whole battalion of bee-like insects and one of them had hit my hand hard. Either Rimsky himself or his lead had gone right over their ground nest at the base of the bush and dozens -- not to say hundreds -- of angry vespids had come charging out of the nest hole to attack him. Fortunately his thick hair protected his body and any insect that tried to land on his snout was instantly snapped up -- or at least chased off by his sharp teeth. It was quite a sight to watch him twisting and turning, pawing and snapping, as he did battle with his tormentors. Without being stung again, I managed to get the leash on him and lead him far enough away from the nest so that I could disconnect the lead and bring him back around to the house by a different route. I don't think he was bitten badly but for quite a while afterwards he kept brushing his snout with his paws and also licking his paws.

After I got him back in the house, I had to go out and pull in the lead from a safe distance (fortunately it was attached to the base of a tree quite far from the site); no way was I going to test the wrath of those insects even at a modest distance. The nest is so close to the path down to the pond that I am amazed that I never noticed it before. Perhaps when I go down early in the morning, the insects -- I am almost certain they are yellow jackets which always seem to appear in the late summer -- are still not active.

One of my indelible childhood memories (I must have been nine or ten years old) was walking into one of these ground nests and, on being attacked, running back to the house screaming with the little stingers coming after me in a fury. The way I remember it I had a hundred stings. But, bad as the stings were, they was nothing compared to the aftermath where, with a whole passel of relatives gathered round (including, as I remember it, young female cousins of various ages who came running in to watch), I had to shed all my clothes to have calamine lotion liberally applied all over my miserable little body. Even to this day, I can remember the sheer ignominy of it! Only in retrospect did I realize how lucky I was not to have had an allergic reaction.

Eric Salzman

random jottings on a quiet Sunday morning

Random notes on a quiet Sunday morning:

--The cluck-cluck-clucking of a Green Heron sitting on the top of a Red Cedar back a ways from the marsh. suggesting that there is a Green Heron nest somewhere in the vicinity

--Young Catbirds, Common Yellowthroats and Song Sparrows are the most common birds in the shrub layer between the woods and the marsh; a noisy wren (not a Carolina, probably House Wren); only a few Barn Swallows and Royal Terns overhead

--Watching the underside of a Praying (Preying?) Mantis as it crawls up a porch screen, alternating the movement of its six legs, each with a little flexible extension at the end to hook onto the mesh of the screen as it moves up

--Trying to figure out the night insects of late summer: Katydids are loudest early in the night, less prominent later on and cut out after first light in the morning; Tree Crickets (?) provide the constant background hum (continuing into the light of dawn, well after the Katydids quit) with random interjections from something else (how to identify calling insects?)

Eric Salzman

a brilliant morning

The weather changed last night and the mugginess of recent days melted away into a brilliant morning. A morning in which birds were on the move. The first indication was being awakened by a Great Horned Owl hooting away before dawn (HOO-hoohoo-hooo HOOOO HOOOO); they don't turn up on our place very often. Down at the shore after dawn, there were Royal Terns in numbers and, at the edge of the marsh, a busy empid, probably an Alder Flycatcher (brownish with a narrow but distinct eyering) and a House Wren that looked like it had come from away (dark reddish-brown unlike our local birds that are on the gray side).

But the main focus of the morning's birding was, once again, Cupsogue where Eileen Schwinn was a last-minute replacement for John McNeil as leader for an ELIAS walk: The Isles of Moriches. There were many good birds on this walk but the most unexpected was virtually the first bird of the event. As we gathered at the trail head in the dunes high above the marsh, a large raptor with extremely broad, straight-edged, rectangular wings came soaring, with just a bit of flapping, low over the marsh and actually below us. From behind and above this bird showed only dark brown coloration. Size and the lack of a white rump ruled out a Harrier. Only when the bird banked did it reveal white in places where only a Bald Eagle would show white. It was a 2nd or 3rd year Haliaeetus leucocephalus and the first I have ever seen from above!

The large crowd that assembled for this walk was there, not for the unlikely sight of a Bald Eagle (exciting as that was), but for the reported Marbled Godwits. And indeed there were two birds of this species -- possibly juveniles but seen against the morning light -- working the shoreline of the marsh directly opposite the main island and in company with several Black Skimmers, many Common Terns (adults and offspring), at least one Forster's Tern and a variety of other shore birds (Short-billed Dowitchers, Ruddy Turnstones, Semipalmated Sandpipers and Plovers, Black-bellied Plovers, Greater and Lesser Yellowlegs, Sanderlings).

As we worked out way along the shore, the bulk of the birds remained in view right in front of us. By wading out into the water and looking back we could scan the flocks on our side and, surprisingly, the birds did not flush. Instead of pushing ahead and trying to wade across to the island (which would have flushed the lot) we decided to return to our cars and drive to the county overlook in Westhampton Dunes. This is a recently erected wooden deck with a view of a large sand flat island just off the bay shore. Said island was packed with birds including -- wait for it! -- two Marbled Godwits! Were these the same birds we had just seen at Cupsogue (the plumages looked similar) or are there multiple numbers of this species in the area (previous observers had reported three)? The flat was also full of Royal Terns, (even outnumbering the Common Terns) and there was a Common Eider paddling around in the bay just to the east.

It's worth mentioning that "Moriches Inlet" is a classic site for godwits, one of the best in the New York area. All four species have been reported here over the years and a Hudsonian was here this year in mid-July.

The unifying theme of the day was not shorebirds but the endless stream of Barn and Tree Swallows heading west and south across the dunes, the vanguard of even bigger flight yet to come. Other birds seen included Osprey (bringing fish to a fledging still in the nest), Eastern Kingbird, Yellow Warbler, American Goldfinch and Boat-tailed Grackle (all local breeders).

Eric Salzman

old birds and young

After the owl activity of the past couple of days, I was sure that this morning's noisy Blue Jay was kicking up a fuss about a roosting predator. Quite the contrary, it turned out to be a young jay, old enough to fly, but still following one of its parents around (can't tell which one) and asking to be fed with all the wing fluttering and vocal begging that it can muster.

While at least one local jay is still taking care of its offspring (and Goldfinches are presumably still in their nesting phase), other birds have moved on. Not a single Purple Martin seen or heard this morning and only a handful of Barn Swallows. On the creek, Royal Terns are active with their flying young. Many of the pairs of terns that come up the creek consist of an adult with a young bird -- born somewhere south of here but accompanying its elders to our waters. The birds call to each other; the adult vocalization is easily recognizable as the finger-on-the-comb call but the call of the young bird is also not difficult to remember. I don't see the adults feeding their young in flight (although they may do so when I'm not looking) but I think the young get a lesson in how to look for fish and how to dive to catch them. And the activity of the terns as well as the disturbed surface of the waters in the creek and pond, tells me that local fish activity is on the increase.

Eric Salzman

Screech Owl calling

The Screech Owl was calling right by the house early this morning -- the first one I have heard this season (although others have reported seeing and hearing the bird in the area in the past few days). The calls consisted mostly of the downward whinny only occasionally interspersed with the low one-note trill -- the traditional second part of the full call. This may be the same owl I saw the other day but there is no way to know.

Screech Owls formerly nested in the attic of the old Randall House -- a real Charles Addams Victorian fright if ever there was one -- right next to our place. When they finally knocked it down (the bulldozer came and nudged it slightly and it went over in a heap), I went over to see what I could salvage from the rubble and found a dead adult owl! Nevertheless, the owls continued to nest somewhere right around for several years and the fledgling owls used to hang out together and even hunt at dusk right in front of the house while we were barbequing or taking the evening air. In recent years however they do not seem to be nesting in our immediate area but they appear, almost without fail and always calling, in the month of August.

Tom Stock from Manorville came over this morning and joined me in my morning walk around the property. It was a warm, overcast and very humid morning with lots of no-see-ums but, thankfully, few mosquitos. The tide was still going out and the only heron around (aside from a distant Great Egret) was the Green. There were Royal Terns working up and down the main creek and Spotted Sandpipers around the pond edges. The Purple Martins seem to have entirely abandoned the Martin residences at the foot of Bay Avenue but there are still a few active on the marsh and around Aldrich Boat Yard along with some numbers of Barn Swallow. Otherwise a quiet muggy morning.

Eric Salzman

owl & a Green Heron

I found an unusual-looking owl on the place this morning. Or, more accurately, the titmice and chickadees found an unusual-looking owl and alerted me to its presence. The owl was sitting on a low branch in the crotch of a small tree well hidden in dense cover (it was visible -- by me anyway -- only from a certain spot and a certain angle). It was a fairly good sized owl and rather elongated in shape with ear tufts, a dark beak, large wide white eyebrows (if that's the right word to describe the wide chalk marks extended crossways from the beak), cross-hatching on the front with a vertical white center to the breast, reddish brown wings (I couldn't see the back) with irregular, large white markings on the shoulder. I couldn't see the eye color very well as the eyes were only slits but I think the eyes were yellow. Although this was a striking plumage and suggested something exotic, I finally decided that it was a young Screech Owl with relatively short ear tufts and a not-very-well-marked facial disc. The whole effect was somewhere between juvenile and adult plumage (a Screech Owl plumage I have never seen before).

I also had a Green Heron fishing in low water in the open water pool in the marsh. Although this fellow (or gal) was not using the fishing lure technique that Green Herons have become famous for (they toss something in the water or hold the lure in their beak just dipping it below the surface), it was fascinating to watch the hunched-up bird moving slowly in the mud, sitting stock-still for minutes at a time and then suddenly released the coiled-up neck like a spring to spear something in the water.

As a reminder, I am doing my "Birding Israel" (or "Birds of Israel") program, complete with slides, at the Quogue Wildlife Refuge tonight at 8 pm. This is an ELIAS (Eastern Long Island Audubon Society) event but the public is welcome.

Eric Salzman

Birds of Israel program at ELIAS, Quogue Refuge tomorrow night

In my earlier post, I forgot to mention that I'm doing a program on the Birds of Israel for ELIAS (Eastern Long Island Audubon Society) at the Quogue Refuge, tomorrow night, Monday, August 2 at 8 pm (the ELIAS meeting starts at 7:15 with a nature talk and a meeting at 7:30 but the program will begin at 8).

I was in Israel in late February, early March, which is early spring in that part of the world in a country that has one of the world's major migrations -- it's the only place where birds can travel from Africa to Europe and back without a water crossing and it's one of the few places in the region where migrant are not shot, netted or limed -- as well as a big complement of native Middle Eastern birds, desert birds and winter birds. The general public as well as ELIAS members is welcome!

Eric Salzman

the AOU is at it again

The AOU (American Ornithologists Union) has published its latest revision of North American birds in the latest issue of 'The Auk' and I got four 'armchair lifers' for my world list (armchair lifers come when you get new birds for your list without getting up from your chair). These come from splits -- i.e. two forms that were formerly considered to be variations of a single species have now been determined to be different enough to split into two or more species.

The major news is that the Winter Wren, formerly considered to be the North American version of the fabled world-wide Wren (Troglodytes troglodytes) has now been split off into two separate species. The Old World Wren is now purely a Eurasian species while our Eastern version, still called Winter Wren, now has a new scientific species name of its own: Troglodytes hyemalis. The somewhat similar wren that inhabits the great forests of the Northwest is now the Pacific Wren (Troglodytes pactificus). So if you've ever seen a wren in a European garden and/or in the Pacific northwest (in, say, the Olympic Peninusula or the grand forests of the Cascades), you can add these birds to your list. Incidentally, most recent field guides show these wrens as subspecies and also include an Alaskan form which is apparently not yet a separate species (making me wonder if it goes with the Pacific Wren or is considered some version of the Eurasian Wren).

Another split off is the Mexican Whip-poor-will which also occurs in Arizona and at least four other states in the U.S. southwest and is, in fact, now scientifically known as Caprimulgus arizonae. I've heard and seen it in Mexico where it was calling in the daytime, something I have never heard our Eastern Whip-poor-will do! The call is definitely different from our Whip-poor-will and I always thought it was only a matter of time before it got species recognition.

The last split is the Black Scoter which has been neatly divided into European and American forms: Commmon Scoter (Melanitta nigra) and Black Scoter (Melanitta americana).

As if that weren't enough, there have been some name changes. Greater Shearwater is now Great Shearwater (which always was the British name). Also the Blue-winged Warbler, formerly Vermivora pinus (translation: Worm-eating Pine Warbler), is now called Vermivora cyanoptera (translation: Worm-eating Bluewing). I should add that the change of name is very unlikely to have anything to do with which name is more fitting but rather which name has priority according to a fairly arcane set rules.

A whole bunch of other warblers and sparrows have been reassigned as to genus but we won't worry about that right now!

Eric Salzman