After surmounting a bit of morning mist, the sun rose over the creek to greet, not to say help create, a clear dry last day of May 2011. No Purple Martin morning song this morning (maybe I slept through it) and no Willet at the top of the dead cedar by the pond. Everyone was, it seemed, waiting for my arrival. The martin colony was so quiet that I thought that the birds had deserted when suddenly they all seemed to pop out, chirping and twittering en masse and dashing over the creek and marsh to look for sustenance. And then, as I left the pond precincts to head into the marsh, the Willet came sprinting through the air at eye level and at top speed, coming straight at me and veering off only at the last second. He (one assumes that such an aggressive bird would be a 'he') then did a 180, rising up to chase three crows moving along the shore line. After another 180 and a second pass at me, he landed in the dead cedar, confident that he done his duty and succeeded in chasing off all dangerous intruders.
A little later, as I worked my way along the upland part of my regular morning round, I heard an unfamiliar call from the tree-tops which I guessed to be a cuckoo. Not the cuckoo-clock cuckoo (that's the European bird, the one that lays its eggs in other birds' nests) but one of our own two species. And as I was looking for the bird, a full-out Yellow-billed Cuckoo call came ringing from another direction immediately followed by an unmistakeable large-sized and long-tailed bird flying across an open space and into the trees on the other side. With a little effort (and some help from the cuckoo which, although well hidden in the leaves, moved enough to give its position away), I was able to get my binoculars on it. As I was noting the yellow lower bill and reddish wing patch. another cuckoo flew in, landed just behind the first, offered her a caterpillar and then mounted her from behind. The whole spectacle lasted no more than a few seconds. Cuckoo #2 flew off followed shortly by cuckoo #1 still holding the caterpillar in her beak. Not only had I heard the first cuckoo (or cuckoos) in spring, I had had the rare privilege of bearing witness to cuckoo love!
Eric Salzman
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Monday, May 30, 2011
early morning at the pond
Early morning at the pond actually begins in bed when, with the window open, I am awakened by The Great Purple Martin Dawn Song. Although this morning serenade is a well-known Purple Martin behavior, I find it extremely puzzling. This is not the mass chortling that emanates from a martin colony but a distinctive solo turn. A single bird has apparently flown over from the martin colony at the end of Bay Avenue (on the opposite side of our marsh) and has stationed himself directly over the house to execute an extended aerial coloratura aria of the most elaborate virtuoso sort. If you google "Purple Martin Dawn Song" you will discover that many purveyors of martin dawnsong recordings are anxious to assure you that playing these recordings will attract Purple Martins to your martin boxes. Maybe so. But 'our' martin colony is well established with all or most of the martins paired up, all available gourds or nest holes seemingly taken, and nesting activity well underway. Why would a single martin leave the colony before dawn to flit across the marsh and hover over our house in full martin song for the unlikely purpose of attracting still more martins to an already active and full-up colony some distance away? Makes no sense at all. Is it the same martin every morning or are different martins elected to the job every day? Or do several martins fan out in different directions to broadcast the dawn song in different areas? Are these unpaired birds looking for mates? Why is he there day after day? My guess is that the martins are defining and 'defending' their territory -- in this case, the marsh with its load of insects free for the taking -- against any possible incursion by martins from other colonies. This is just the opposite of the claim that the song is intended to attract other martins. In any case, it's a delightful way to wake up!
By the time, I get dressed, gulp down a coffee and get down to the pond, the dawn song is over although the birds at the colony are now extremely vocal and beginning to fan out across the marsh and creek. They are accompanied by Barn Swallows which come from the opposite direction and, in the early morning light (no sunrise this morning because of cloud cover), loop low over the pond and marsh. In general, the Barn Swallows take the lower level in grand loops and swoops while the Martins hunt in a more leisurely gliding fashion higher up, a neat partitioning of resources.
Back to the pond. A Willet is sitting at the top of the dead Red Cedar on the opposite bank. Oddly enough, my arrival on the scene does not seem to bother him in the slightest and this generally noisy bird just sits quietly watching me. He is often there first thing in the morning and I suspect he likes to spend the night off the ground and safe from predators. The Double-crested Cormorant that is fishing in the pond is, however, not so sanguine. As soon as I appear, he takes off. A Mallard pair -- presumably the same male and female that have been hanging around in past week or so -- slip into the water from the near bank and then take off as well to join a Great Egret in the open water in the middle of the marsh. Pine Warbler is singing away in the pines just back of the pond and the Common Yellowthroat has moved from his usual post at the head of the marsh to the nearby screen of bushes and trees. Maybe he is still responding to the rival Yellowthroat that was calling yesterday on the other side of the property but there is no sign of the second bird today.
Perhaps the most remarkable sighting of the days comes as I am standing on the dock just beyond the point where the outflow of the pond empties into the main creek. A sudden noise from our neighbor's creekfront catches my attention and I see a long strand of vegetation sliding down the rip-rap on the bank. A Muskrat has clipped a healthy, leafy length of vine -- twice as long as he is
-- and is hauling it down to the water! The body of the animal is almost invisible amidst the greenery so that it looks as though the plant is traveling by itself through the bit of beach and marsh grass and then out into the open water. If I had arrived just a few minutes later, I would have seen a mass of green vegetation seemingly propelling itself through the water on its own power! Instead of turning into the pond (where muskrats live in burrows in the bank), he heads in the opposite direction towards the neighbor's floating dock and instead of going around the dock, he dives under, pulling his treasured pile of greenery with him and disappearing from sight. Neither muskrat nor muskrat treasure reappear on the other side! I suddenly recalled that when Mark Cocker was visiting from England, we saw a muskrat with some vegetation in his mouth on the shore and then swimming in the same direction. It seems impossible to imagine but could this muskrat be constructing a 'burrow' under the floating dock? Or could human figures have seemed to block his access to the pond causing him to hide under the floating dock until the coast was clear?
Lots of questions!
Eric Salzman
By the time, I get dressed, gulp down a coffee and get down to the pond, the dawn song is over although the birds at the colony are now extremely vocal and beginning to fan out across the marsh and creek. They are accompanied by Barn Swallows which come from the opposite direction and, in the early morning light (no sunrise this morning because of cloud cover), loop low over the pond and marsh. In general, the Barn Swallows take the lower level in grand loops and swoops while the Martins hunt in a more leisurely gliding fashion higher up, a neat partitioning of resources.
Back to the pond. A Willet is sitting at the top of the dead Red Cedar on the opposite bank. Oddly enough, my arrival on the scene does not seem to bother him in the slightest and this generally noisy bird just sits quietly watching me. He is often there first thing in the morning and I suspect he likes to spend the night off the ground and safe from predators. The Double-crested Cormorant that is fishing in the pond is, however, not so sanguine. As soon as I appear, he takes off. A Mallard pair -- presumably the same male and female that have been hanging around in past week or so -- slip into the water from the near bank and then take off as well to join a Great Egret in the open water in the middle of the marsh. Pine Warbler is singing away in the pines just back of the pond and the Common Yellowthroat has moved from his usual post at the head of the marsh to the nearby screen of bushes and trees. Maybe he is still responding to the rival Yellowthroat that was calling yesterday on the other side of the property but there is no sign of the second bird today.
Perhaps the most remarkable sighting of the days comes as I am standing on the dock just beyond the point where the outflow of the pond empties into the main creek. A sudden noise from our neighbor's creekfront catches my attention and I see a long strand of vegetation sliding down the rip-rap on the bank. A Muskrat has clipped a healthy, leafy length of vine -- twice as long as he is
-- and is hauling it down to the water! The body of the animal is almost invisible amidst the greenery so that it looks as though the plant is traveling by itself through the bit of beach and marsh grass and then out into the open water. If I had arrived just a few minutes later, I would have seen a mass of green vegetation seemingly propelling itself through the water on its own power! Instead of turning into the pond (where muskrats live in burrows in the bank), he heads in the opposite direction towards the neighbor's floating dock and instead of going around the dock, he dives under, pulling his treasured pile of greenery with him and disappearing from sight. Neither muskrat nor muskrat treasure reappear on the other side! I suddenly recalled that when Mark Cocker was visiting from England, we saw a muskrat with some vegetation in his mouth on the shore and then swimming in the same direction. It seems impossible to imagine but could this muskrat be constructing a 'burrow' under the floating dock? Or could human figures have seemed to block his access to the pond causing him to hide under the floating dock until the coast was clear?
Lots of questions!
Eric Salzman
Sunday, May 29, 2011
a quiet Sunday after a SOFO Saturday @ Shinnecock
After a period of only sporadic appearances, the Pine Warbler showed up this morning accompanied by a second bird; the two birds were flying and hunting quite independently but they remained near each other in the pines around the house. The quite bright male indicated his presence by repeating his sweet trill over and over again as he flitted from pine to pine. The other bird, rather mousey, with white wingbars and only faintly tinted with yellow, may have been a female or a young of the year; it communicated only with typical warbler chips. Pine Warblers have been regular here in recent years but I have never been able to find evidence of nesting. The nests are high in pine trees and hard to find and the best indication is usually the adults feeding recently fledged young, a bit of behavior that I have not seen here.
A second Common Yellowthroat has taken up residence on the other side of the property from the bird that has been singing since early May. The two birds were counter singing almost all morning long. Only the two wrens -- Carolina and House -- have been more continuously vocal. Starting in late morning another non-stop singer, the Red-eyed Vireo, turned up. This obsessive vocalist is more often heard than seen -- his name means "I am green" and his coloration matches that of the canopy leaves in which he spends most of his time; this is also another bird that breeds in the nearby woods but has never, as far as I know, nested down here.
A very well attended SOFO walk at Shinnecock on Saturday was led by Jim Ash, newly retired as director of SOFO, and his replacement, Frank Quevedo; it covered the territory on Dune Road starting at Shinnecock Inlet and working west to Quogue. In order to catch a low and then rising tide, the walk started at 9:30 am with a molting Common Eider, a couple of loons and a few distant Gannets on the ocean just off the Inlet. At the Ponquogue Bridge, there was a single flying Black Skimmer. At a bayman's dirt road pull-out leading into the marsh, we were able to find a Saltmarsh (formerly Sharp-tailed or Saltmarsh Sharp-tailed) Sparrow as it flitted from grassy knoll to twig to tidal wrack. Alas, not a single Seaside Sparrow. My guess is that these birds are not yet on territory and, until they start singing in June, they are extremely difficult to find.
Along the way there were small numbers of various shore birds including Ruddy Turnstone (by far the most numerous), many Willets, American Oystercatchers, Dunlin, Sanderlings, Black-bellied Plover, one or two Piping Plovers plus a single Semipalmated Plover, one or two Short-billed Dowitchers and small numbers of 'peeps', mostly Semipalmated and Least Sandpipers. Migration, even at the shore, is definitely winding down. Also both egrets (Great and Snowy), many Barn Swallows and a single Bank Swallow. The last stop, at the small Quogue boardwalk refuge, produced a calling Eastern Towhee and at least two calling Willow Flycatchers ("FITZ-bew" is what they said). This refuge is also a botanical haven for its huge field of Hudsonia or Beach Heather interspersed with Oldfield or Blue Toadflax and, to top it all, amazing thickets of Poison Ivy. Fortunately, by sticking to the boardwalk, it's possible to avoid trampling the plants with attendant bad consequences on both the plants and the tramplers.
Eric Salzman
A second Common Yellowthroat has taken up residence on the other side of the property from the bird that has been singing since early May. The two birds were counter singing almost all morning long. Only the two wrens -- Carolina and House -- have been more continuously vocal. Starting in late morning another non-stop singer, the Red-eyed Vireo, turned up. This obsessive vocalist is more often heard than seen -- his name means "I am green" and his coloration matches that of the canopy leaves in which he spends most of his time; this is also another bird that breeds in the nearby woods but has never, as far as I know, nested down here.
A very well attended SOFO walk at Shinnecock on Saturday was led by Jim Ash, newly retired as director of SOFO, and his replacement, Frank Quevedo; it covered the territory on Dune Road starting at Shinnecock Inlet and working west to Quogue. In order to catch a low and then rising tide, the walk started at 9:30 am with a molting Common Eider, a couple of loons and a few distant Gannets on the ocean just off the Inlet. At the Ponquogue Bridge, there was a single flying Black Skimmer. At a bayman's dirt road pull-out leading into the marsh, we were able to find a Saltmarsh (formerly Sharp-tailed or Saltmarsh Sharp-tailed) Sparrow as it flitted from grassy knoll to twig to tidal wrack. Alas, not a single Seaside Sparrow. My guess is that these birds are not yet on territory and, until they start singing in June, they are extremely difficult to find.
Along the way there were small numbers of various shore birds including Ruddy Turnstone (by far the most numerous), many Willets, American Oystercatchers, Dunlin, Sanderlings, Black-bellied Plover, one or two Piping Plovers plus a single Semipalmated Plover, one or two Short-billed Dowitchers and small numbers of 'peeps', mostly Semipalmated and Least Sandpipers. Migration, even at the shore, is definitely winding down. Also both egrets (Great and Snowy), many Barn Swallows and a single Bank Swallow. The last stop, at the small Quogue boardwalk refuge, produced a calling Eastern Towhee and at least two calling Willow Flycatchers ("FITZ-bew" is what they said). This refuge is also a botanical haven for its huge field of Hudsonia or Beach Heather interspersed with Oldfield or Blue Toadflax and, to top it all, amazing thickets of Poison Ivy. Fortunately, by sticking to the boardwalk, it's possible to avoid trampling the plants with attendant bad consequences on both the plants and the tramplers.
Eric Salzman
Friday, May 27, 2011
domestic bird affairs
A mild, humid, summer-like morning with damp and dew on everything.
Bird activity around the house seemed to have taken a domestic turn. A male Cardinal was feeding a strapping young bird. well out of the nest, neatly demonstrating that the Carolina Wrens are not the only early birds around here (like the Carolina, the Cardinal is non-migratory and can get an early start on nesting with an opportunity for multiple broods). Yesterday's Carolina Wren family is still in evidence right out the back door; this morning I counted three young and two noisy adults. A more surprising family group consists of a male and female Mallard walking around on the ground (!) near the house for the past two days. Is dry-land courtship? Ducks usually start earlier and the males, like most male ducks, do not hang around to help with the nesting; but maybe this is a late starting couple.
Northern Flickers have also been in evidence; in the past few days, I have been flushing them feeding in the tidal wrack between the woods and the shrub layer at the marsh edge and I hear them calling -- 'wicka-wicka-wicka-wick' -- quite regularly. Are these local birds or migrants? Maybe this is a Flicker comeback; att this point, they are more in evidence than the Red-bellied Woodpeckers that were supposedly replacing them.
The most striking sounds of the morning were two brief, loud 'sneezes' from an Acadian Flycatcher somewhere inside the woods. Alas, the bird did not call again and I could not locate it. If you can get a good look, Acadians are relatively easy to identify as they are the largest and greenest of the Empidonax flycatchers. The short, sharp song -- often written as 'peet-sah' -- is recognizably faster, sharper and higher in pitch than the buzzier 'fitz-bew' of the Willow Fycatcher so this was not the flycatcher I saw the day before yesterday (an Alder or a Willow which, however, did not call). Late May into early June is the typical time when flycatchers heading north -- mostly empids -- are moving through our area.
Eric Salzman
Bird activity around the house seemed to have taken a domestic turn. A male Cardinal was feeding a strapping young bird. well out of the nest, neatly demonstrating that the Carolina Wrens are not the only early birds around here (like the Carolina, the Cardinal is non-migratory and can get an early start on nesting with an opportunity for multiple broods). Yesterday's Carolina Wren family is still in evidence right out the back door; this morning I counted three young and two noisy adults. A more surprising family group consists of a male and female Mallard walking around on the ground (!) near the house for the past two days. Is dry-land courtship? Ducks usually start earlier and the males, like most male ducks, do not hang around to help with the nesting; but maybe this is a late starting couple.
Northern Flickers have also been in evidence; in the past few days, I have been flushing them feeding in the tidal wrack between the woods and the shrub layer at the marsh edge and I hear them calling -- 'wicka-wicka-wicka-wick' -- quite regularly. Are these local birds or migrants? Maybe this is a Flicker comeback; att this point, they are more in evidence than the Red-bellied Woodpeckers that were supposedly replacing them.
The most striking sounds of the morning were two brief, loud 'sneezes' from an Acadian Flycatcher somewhere inside the woods. Alas, the bird did not call again and I could not locate it. If you can get a good look, Acadians are relatively easy to identify as they are the largest and greenest of the Empidonax flycatchers. The short, sharp song -- often written as 'peet-sah' -- is recognizably faster, sharper and higher in pitch than the buzzier 'fitz-bew' of the Willow Fycatcher so this was not the flycatcher I saw the day before yesterday (an Alder or a Willow which, however, did not call). Late May into early June is the typical time when flycatchers heading north -- mostly empids -- are moving through our area.
Eric Salzman
Thursday, May 26, 2011
back in the fog
Another pea-souper this morning blotting out the view across the bay, across the creek and even across the marsh. As I've mentioned before, the fog makes visibility difficult but audibility actually increases and, surprisingly, some of our local birds were active and singing loudly -- perhaps a way of communicating through the fog. The Purple Martins and even the martin house were invisible but the rolling, chirping of the birds overhead was loud and clear; are there really insects flying in the fog and, if so, can the martins really find them? Loud Baltimore Oriole calls as the orioles moved from one area to another must convey information about their location. The mournful whistles of a visiting Eastern Wood-Pewee also cut nicely through the mist.
The fog also shows off one feature of our local natural history that is often overlooked: the sheer number of spiders. The top of every bare twig on the vegetation in and around the marsh is covered by a messy lace of spider web, not the neat classic web of the orb-weaver spiders but a crest of loose threads at the apex of every dead bush and literally hundreds of them throughout. Each one is presumably the property of a different individual suddenly made visible by the glistening pearl-like droplets of water condensed out of the fog and now forming a necklace on each thread. Who knew there were so many spiders in the marsh? It ought to be possible to identify this species by its very characteristic web formation.
Although many flowers like the sun, the lack of it has not inhibited the appearances of some new blossoms. The most flamboyant is, without a doubt, the massive white flowers of the Big-leaf Magnolia (it might just as easily have been named Big-flowered Magnolia). Yesterday these were inside huge green buds and you had to look hard to notice them. Overnight these enormous white blossoms popped open. They will shortly collapse into a mass of huge white petals but at the moment they are still erect. Eileen Schwinn calls them Jurassic Park trees and these are certainly Jurassic Park flowers!
At the opposite extreme from the magnolias is the beautiful little six-pointed terrestrial white star of the Starflower. According to the books, this little gem is supposed to inhabit "cool or moist woods and high slopes" but we have a bed of it in sandy soil and pine needles; it is regular in mid- to late May.
In general, we are at the height of the second round of spring flowers. Apple blossoms are completely gone, Lilac is on its way out, Beach Plum as well as the Blueberries and Huckleberries are past their prime. Mony of the escaped garden plants are blooming right now: Wisteria, Lily-of-the-Valley, Bittersweet (the greenish flowers are easy to miss) and the bush form of Honeysuckle with the familiar honeysuckle yellow-and-white flowers and red or orange berries. Presumably this is another introduced species but just exactly which one?
The mid-May star of the Pine Barrens is the Flowering Dogwood, already past its prime. In some parts of the woods where the oak trees were hard hit by an infestation of a small geometrid or looper, the canopy has opened up and this has actually favored the dogwoods which have been making a striking display. The one 'wild' flowering dogwood on our property was at the edge of a right-of-way that had to be widened when we did renovations on the old house. I specifically marked the tree for preservation so it was, of course, the first thing that the contractor chopped down. Miraculously, it has sprouted from its roots and it will, we hope, reflower one of these years. Incidentally, in spite of the name of the plant, the showy blossoms are actually not flowers per se but consist of four showy white bracts that surround a cluster of small greenish flowers.
Other native flowers are starting to show. Two plants in the lily family, Wild Lily-of-the-Valley and False Solomon's Seal, are beginning to bloom and Chokeberry -- in spite of its ugly name, a handsome flowering shrub in the rose/apple family -- is sporting little bouquets of white flowers on the marsh edge (it does have puckery berries in late summer/early fall). Blue or Oldfield Toadflax is another pretty little early spring flower with an unattractive name; it grows in pure sand and is in full display (or just past) right now. There is a beautiful stand of it in the dunes at Cupsogue west of the parking lot just behind the (dying) Black Pines.
Another botanical feature of the moment is Pitch Pine pollen. I have discovered that it is not spring flowers that make me sneeze and cough at this time of the year but the wind blown pollen of Pinus rigida. You might not notice the pollen in the air but you can see it by looking at the edges of any puddle or pond. The yellow color is the pine pollen.
I almost forgot to mention the avian event of the morning. Our dooryard Carolina Wren resumed loud singing right out the kitchen door a few days ago and the prevelence of low buzzing sounds out back has raised suspicions. This morning a little covey of wrens exploded out of a bush as the adult birds tried to call attention to themselves and away from the 3 or 4 youngsters who scattered into the surrounding greenery, trying to escape detection. Carolina Wren, which stays here all winter, is almost always the earliest of our songbirds to produce young.
Eric Salzman
The fog also shows off one feature of our local natural history that is often overlooked: the sheer number of spiders. The top of every bare twig on the vegetation in and around the marsh is covered by a messy lace of spider web, not the neat classic web of the orb-weaver spiders but a crest of loose threads at the apex of every dead bush and literally hundreds of them throughout. Each one is presumably the property of a different individual suddenly made visible by the glistening pearl-like droplets of water condensed out of the fog and now forming a necklace on each thread. Who knew there were so many spiders in the marsh? It ought to be possible to identify this species by its very characteristic web formation.
Although many flowers like the sun, the lack of it has not inhibited the appearances of some new blossoms. The most flamboyant is, without a doubt, the massive white flowers of the Big-leaf Magnolia (it might just as easily have been named Big-flowered Magnolia). Yesterday these were inside huge green buds and you had to look hard to notice them. Overnight these enormous white blossoms popped open. They will shortly collapse into a mass of huge white petals but at the moment they are still erect. Eileen Schwinn calls them Jurassic Park trees and these are certainly Jurassic Park flowers!
At the opposite extreme from the magnolias is the beautiful little six-pointed terrestrial white star of the Starflower. According to the books, this little gem is supposed to inhabit "cool or moist woods and high slopes" but we have a bed of it in sandy soil and pine needles; it is regular in mid- to late May.
In general, we are at the height of the second round of spring flowers. Apple blossoms are completely gone, Lilac is on its way out, Beach Plum as well as the Blueberries and Huckleberries are past their prime. Mony of the escaped garden plants are blooming right now: Wisteria, Lily-of-the-Valley, Bittersweet (the greenish flowers are easy to miss) and the bush form of Honeysuckle with the familiar honeysuckle yellow-and-white flowers and red or orange berries. Presumably this is another introduced species but just exactly which one?
The mid-May star of the Pine Barrens is the Flowering Dogwood, already past its prime. In some parts of the woods where the oak trees were hard hit by an infestation of a small geometrid or looper, the canopy has opened up and this has actually favored the dogwoods which have been making a striking display. The one 'wild' flowering dogwood on our property was at the edge of a right-of-way that had to be widened when we did renovations on the old house. I specifically marked the tree for preservation so it was, of course, the first thing that the contractor chopped down. Miraculously, it has sprouted from its roots and it will, we hope, reflower one of these years. Incidentally, in spite of the name of the plant, the showy blossoms are actually not flowers per se but consist of four showy white bracts that surround a cluster of small greenish flowers.
Other native flowers are starting to show. Two plants in the lily family, Wild Lily-of-the-Valley and False Solomon's Seal, are beginning to bloom and Chokeberry -- in spite of its ugly name, a handsome flowering shrub in the rose/apple family -- is sporting little bouquets of white flowers on the marsh edge (it does have puckery berries in late summer/early fall). Blue or Oldfield Toadflax is another pretty little early spring flower with an unattractive name; it grows in pure sand and is in full display (or just past) right now. There is a beautiful stand of it in the dunes at Cupsogue west of the parking lot just behind the (dying) Black Pines.
Another botanical feature of the moment is Pitch Pine pollen. I have discovered that it is not spring flowers that make me sneeze and cough at this time of the year but the wind blown pollen of Pinus rigida. You might not notice the pollen in the air but you can see it by looking at the edges of any puddle or pond. The yellow color is the pine pollen.
I almost forgot to mention the avian event of the morning. Our dooryard Carolina Wren resumed loud singing right out the kitchen door a few days ago and the prevelence of low buzzing sounds out back has raised suspicions. This morning a little covey of wrens exploded out of a bush as the adult birds tried to call attention to themselves and away from the 3 or 4 youngsters who scattered into the surrounding greenery, trying to escape detection. Carolina Wren, which stays here all winter, is almost always the earliest of our songbirds to produce young.
Eric Salzman
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
A fogless morning
Finally a gorgeous blue-sky sunrise without fog -- just a few traces of mist on the opposite bank of the creek that quickly disappeared (the mist, not the opposite bank).
Yesterday's Redstarts are gone with the fog but there were two singing Parulas this morning, a non-singing female Yellow Warbler, a non-singing female Scarlet Tanager, a non-singing Brown Thrasher (sex undetermined) and a persistently singing Red-eyed Vireo -- possibly the same one that has been hanging around for the past week or so. A big surprise was a Blue-headed Vireo, a common enough migrant but not one that I expect to see in late May.
The outstanding bird of the morning was an Empidonax of the type that used to be known as "Traill's Flycatcher" -- in other words, either a Willow or an Alder, two closely related species separated mainly by geography and by voice. This modest little flycatcher is not outstanding in any obvious way; on a scale of 1 to 10, most objective observers would rate it as a 2. But birders are not objective and for me the challenge and excitement of identifying small 'empids' exceeds even the challenge of identifying sparrows. This empid was gorging itself on an outbreak of moths in a green nook beside the old right-of-way into the property; he (or she) would dart after a flying insect at high speed, snap it up and land on perch in the open to look for the next one to gulp down. Later in the morning, what I presume was the same bird had moved its field of operations -- its 'no fly' zone one might say -- down the road a tad, offering still more good looks of his modest looks. I would describe it (him? her? can't tell!) as a slender bird with a short-to-moderate primary projection (the length of the longest primary flight feather as measured against the tail when the bird is perched), an essentially invisible eye ring, a shortish bill and a generally grayish/olive appearance on the upper parts. To me this adds up to Alder Flycatcher which is, in any case, the more likely of the twins to be seen in our area during migration (most of the Alders breed north of us while most of the Willows breed locally and to the south). Additionally, in my experience, the Willow is a much browner bird so the coloration of this bird strongly favors Alder. But the conventional wisdom is that it is impossible to be 100% sure unless it calls and this bird did not. Not a peep. Ironically, the Willow is the 'common' local Empidonax but it is the least likely of any of the five Eastern species to turn up on our place in migration and I am not really sure it has ever actually occurred!
Speaking of gulping, the Green Heron was clearing his throat for a hour or two shortly after sunrise from a perch on a large oak tree in the woods. According to at least one reference book, he makes that sound 'near the nest' but, looking at him calling on his lonely branch, I can't help the (possibly romantic) impression that this is a love-lorn Butorides advertising for a mate ("what a beautiful spot for a nest") and hoping that some equally unattached female will heed his gulpiform plea.
Eric Salzman
Yesterday's Redstarts are gone with the fog but there were two singing Parulas this morning, a non-singing female Yellow Warbler, a non-singing female Scarlet Tanager, a non-singing Brown Thrasher (sex undetermined) and a persistently singing Red-eyed Vireo -- possibly the same one that has been hanging around for the past week or so. A big surprise was a Blue-headed Vireo, a common enough migrant but not one that I expect to see in late May.
The outstanding bird of the morning was an Empidonax of the type that used to be known as "Traill's Flycatcher" -- in other words, either a Willow or an Alder, two closely related species separated mainly by geography and by voice. This modest little flycatcher is not outstanding in any obvious way; on a scale of 1 to 10, most objective observers would rate it as a 2. But birders are not objective and for me the challenge and excitement of identifying small 'empids' exceeds even the challenge of identifying sparrows. This empid was gorging itself on an outbreak of moths in a green nook beside the old right-of-way into the property; he (or she) would dart after a flying insect at high speed, snap it up and land on perch in the open to look for the next one to gulp down. Later in the morning, what I presume was the same bird had moved its field of operations -- its 'no fly' zone one might say -- down the road a tad, offering still more good looks of his modest looks. I would describe it (him? her? can't tell!) as a slender bird with a short-to-moderate primary projection (the length of the longest primary flight feather as measured against the tail when the bird is perched), an essentially invisible eye ring, a shortish bill and a generally grayish/olive appearance on the upper parts. To me this adds up to Alder Flycatcher which is, in any case, the more likely of the twins to be seen in our area during migration (most of the Alders breed north of us while most of the Willows breed locally and to the south). Additionally, in my experience, the Willow is a much browner bird so the coloration of this bird strongly favors Alder. But the conventional wisdom is that it is impossible to be 100% sure unless it calls and this bird did not. Not a peep. Ironically, the Willow is the 'common' local Empidonax but it is the least likely of any of the five Eastern species to turn up on our place in migration and I am not really sure it has ever actually occurred!
Speaking of gulping, the Green Heron was clearing his throat for a hour or two shortly after sunrise from a perch on a large oak tree in the woods. According to at least one reference book, he makes that sound 'near the nest' but, looking at him calling on his lonely branch, I can't help the (possibly romantic) impression that this is a love-lorn Butorides advertising for a mate ("what a beautiful spot for a nest") and hoping that some equally unattached female will heed his gulpiform plea.
Eric Salzman
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
voices in the mist
It's hard to see things in a heavy fog like the one we had this morning but the dense atmosphere carries sound very well. That made it easy to locate three different Redstarts (including a first-year male) that were cutting through the mist with their penetrating songs and a Blackpoll whose weak lisping was at the other end of the warbler sonic spectrum (in between was the familiar Common Yellowthroat's 'witchity-witchy-witch'. Several birds that had been missing for the past few days were not so much resighted as reheard: Eastern Kingbird, House Wren, Cedar Waxwing (even weaker lisping), Red-eyed Vireo, Pine Warbler, Chipping Sparrow, one of the Yellowlegs.
In my account of Saturday's Faunathon, I neglected to mention a few things that made the list including an Eastern Bluebird in the Gabreski Airport precincts and several species at or near the so-called Bicycle Path down the road from Hunters Gardens: House and Barn Swallows, House Wren, Common Yellowthroat, Yellow and Blue-wing Warblers, singing Orchard Orioles and Field Sparrows. I went back to the latter area this morning in the hope of finding Blue Grosbeak (it has nested in the area for a number of years now). We didn't find it Saturday and I didn't find it this morning but I did hear and glimpse a vociferous Canada Warbler and spotted an unlikely, spectral-looking Glossy Ibis silently beating its way overhead through the fog, both species that we missed on Faunathon Day.
Eric Salzman
In my account of Saturday's Faunathon, I neglected to mention a few things that made the list including an Eastern Bluebird in the Gabreski Airport precincts and several species at or near the so-called Bicycle Path down the road from Hunters Gardens: House and Barn Swallows, House Wren, Common Yellowthroat, Yellow and Blue-wing Warblers, singing Orchard Orioles and Field Sparrows. I went back to the latter area this morning in the hope of finding Blue Grosbeak (it has nested in the area for a number of years now). We didn't find it Saturday and I didn't find it this morning but I did hear and glimpse a vociferous Canada Warbler and spotted an unlikely, spectral-looking Glossy Ibis silently beating its way overhead through the fog, both species that we missed on Faunathon Day.
Eric Salzman
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Faunathon
What's a Faunathon? It's an all-day stint which attempts to see as many prominent animals as possible in one 24-hour (midnight-to-midnight) whirlwind. Inevitably, this means mostly birds but mammals, amphibians and reptiles are all fair game. Among the myriads of insects only butterflies count and there are not many butterflies flying in the cool East End spring.
Our local Faunathon is sponsored by the Group for the South Fork and Steve Biasetti is the organizer. This year's event took place on Saturday and there was an East Quogue contingent consisting of Eileen Schwinn, Mike Higgiston and yours truly. We didn't do 24 hours or anything close. But we started out at 5:30 a.m. and went most of the day. The original plan was to go to the shore first thing in the morning to catch the low tide but the fog was so dense that we decided to reverse the plan and start in the uplands. After tallying a few backyard birds, headed up to Gabreski or Westhampton Airport. The airport produced its most notable current resident, Vesper Sparrow (seen and heard; it has a very sweet song) plus Turkey Vulture, Red-tailed Hawk, American Kestrel and Horned Lark. Missing, alas, were Northern Harrier, Upland Sandpiper, Grasshopper Sparrow and Eastern Meadowlark, all known to be former residents.
Next on the schedule was Hunters Garden and the nearby Bald Hill Trail. These are both traditionally good areas for May migrants but not on Saturday. We did pick up some of the breeding birds including a singing Hermit Thrush, always a thrill for me to hear. After a quick return visit to the airport (still no Meadowlark or Grasshopper Sparrow), we headed out to Cupsogue at the Moriches Inlet end of Dune Road. Alas, the tide was now high making some of the best areas either inaccessible, underwater or otherwise birdless. I did spot a tern-like bird flying away over Moriches Bay with distinctly two-toned wings. The only tern (around here anyhow) that has a wing pattern like that is the Forster's Tern which, in breeding plumage, has a bright silvery white triangle on the upper primaries contrasting with the gray of the rest of the upper wing. We have been seeing Forster's mostly in late summer when it is in fall plumage but if it is now nesting in the area, we need to note the very different (and more difficult) breeding plumage which it holds only for a short time in the spring. The two-tone wings are one very good clue to separating it from the other terns that turn up.
Next stop: the relatively new viewing platform at Pike's Beach. Alas, the view was mostly water as the sand flats and sand island opposite were almost completely covered; just a few shorebirds were visible on the shore near us including Ruddy Turnstones, Dunlin and a few peeps (Semipalmated Sandpipers and one or two Least Sandpipers). It was a test run for my new spotting scope which gave me such close-up looks at the differences in plumage of several of the Semipalmated Sandpipers that I started to think I had more than one species. I'm here to tell you that a slight reddish tint on the cap and face of a Semipalmated Sandpiper does not turn it into a Western Sandpiper!
Our 12-hour Faunathon run next took us down the Shinnecock barrier beach where we picked up many more of the above shore bird species at a number of locations plus a few others (Black-bellied Plover, Semipalmated Plover, a single Red Knot and several Short-billed Dowitchers). But the best bird was a small gull feeding on the bay side opposite Tiana Beach with the shore birds. This was one of the hooded gulls in non-breeding plumage: two black smudges or lines behind the eye, a thin black bill, light gray back, reddish or reddish-pink legs and enough of the primaries visible on the folded wings to show some of the white. It was a single Bonaparte's Gull, a bird we usually see in flocks in the winter. A final stop at Alcott's Pond in East Quogue produced a Wood Duck pair.
As we were cruising down Dune Road, we passed another birder staring intently at a small pond on the south side of the road. We pulled over to have a look but could see nothing in the reeds at which he was staring and scoping so intently. Later on, we found out that he had discovered a Least Bittern fishing in the pond and then hiding in the reeds. What a miss! Inevitably we were up relatively early this morning to try and find this elusive bird with no success. However, we did find a lot of missing faunathon fauna -- in East Quogue, on Dune Road and at Pike's Beach; the list included Cedar Waxwings, Blackpoll Warbler, Ring-billed Gull, Red Fox (on Dune Road), Raccoon (in the crotch of an old pine tree on my place) and Box Turtle (also on my place). There were two dozen or more Red Knot on the Pike's Beach island.
Low point of our Faunathon activities: seeing two fisherman loading up their pickup with Horseshoe Crabs. The annual mating ritual of the Horseshoe Crabs, itself a wonderful spectacle, is also the source of rich food for the migrating shore birds on their way from the south to the arctic. Slowly but surely, the commercialization of the Horseshoe Crab population is leading to its disappearance which in turn threatens the shorebirds, especially Red Knot which is highly dependent on the eggs.
The high point? There were several but for me it was hearing the Hermit Thrush singing one of the most beautiful sounds in nature, echoing through the woods at Hunters Garden.
Eric Salzman
Our local Faunathon is sponsored by the Group for the South Fork and Steve Biasetti is the organizer. This year's event took place on Saturday and there was an East Quogue contingent consisting of Eileen Schwinn, Mike Higgiston and yours truly. We didn't do 24 hours or anything close. But we started out at 5:30 a.m. and went most of the day. The original plan was to go to the shore first thing in the morning to catch the low tide but the fog was so dense that we decided to reverse the plan and start in the uplands. After tallying a few backyard birds, headed up to Gabreski or Westhampton Airport. The airport produced its most notable current resident, Vesper Sparrow (seen and heard; it has a very sweet song) plus Turkey Vulture, Red-tailed Hawk, American Kestrel and Horned Lark. Missing, alas, were Northern Harrier, Upland Sandpiper, Grasshopper Sparrow and Eastern Meadowlark, all known to be former residents.
Next on the schedule was Hunters Garden and the nearby Bald Hill Trail. These are both traditionally good areas for May migrants but not on Saturday. We did pick up some of the breeding birds including a singing Hermit Thrush, always a thrill for me to hear. After a quick return visit to the airport (still no Meadowlark or Grasshopper Sparrow), we headed out to Cupsogue at the Moriches Inlet end of Dune Road. Alas, the tide was now high making some of the best areas either inaccessible, underwater or otherwise birdless. I did spot a tern-like bird flying away over Moriches Bay with distinctly two-toned wings. The only tern (around here anyhow) that has a wing pattern like that is the Forster's Tern which, in breeding plumage, has a bright silvery white triangle on the upper primaries contrasting with the gray of the rest of the upper wing. We have been seeing Forster's mostly in late summer when it is in fall plumage but if it is now nesting in the area, we need to note the very different (and more difficult) breeding plumage which it holds only for a short time in the spring. The two-tone wings are one very good clue to separating it from the other terns that turn up.
Next stop: the relatively new viewing platform at Pike's Beach. Alas, the view was mostly water as the sand flats and sand island opposite were almost completely covered; just a few shorebirds were visible on the shore near us including Ruddy Turnstones, Dunlin and a few peeps (Semipalmated Sandpipers and one or two Least Sandpipers). It was a test run for my new spotting scope which gave me such close-up looks at the differences in plumage of several of the Semipalmated Sandpipers that I started to think I had more than one species. I'm here to tell you that a slight reddish tint on the cap and face of a Semipalmated Sandpiper does not turn it into a Western Sandpiper!
Our 12-hour Faunathon run next took us down the Shinnecock barrier beach where we picked up many more of the above shore bird species at a number of locations plus a few others (Black-bellied Plover, Semipalmated Plover, a single Red Knot and several Short-billed Dowitchers). But the best bird was a small gull feeding on the bay side opposite Tiana Beach with the shore birds. This was one of the hooded gulls in non-breeding plumage: two black smudges or lines behind the eye, a thin black bill, light gray back, reddish or reddish-pink legs and enough of the primaries visible on the folded wings to show some of the white. It was a single Bonaparte's Gull, a bird we usually see in flocks in the winter. A final stop at Alcott's Pond in East Quogue produced a Wood Duck pair.
As we were cruising down Dune Road, we passed another birder staring intently at a small pond on the south side of the road. We pulled over to have a look but could see nothing in the reeds at which he was staring and scoping so intently. Later on, we found out that he had discovered a Least Bittern fishing in the pond and then hiding in the reeds. What a miss! Inevitably we were up relatively early this morning to try and find this elusive bird with no success. However, we did find a lot of missing faunathon fauna -- in East Quogue, on Dune Road and at Pike's Beach; the list included Cedar Waxwings, Blackpoll Warbler, Ring-billed Gull, Red Fox (on Dune Road), Raccoon (in the crotch of an old pine tree on my place) and Box Turtle (also on my place). There were two dozen or more Red Knot on the Pike's Beach island.
Low point of our Faunathon activities: seeing two fisherman loading up their pickup with Horseshoe Crabs. The annual mating ritual of the Horseshoe Crabs, itself a wonderful spectacle, is also the source of rich food for the migrating shore birds on their way from the south to the arctic. Slowly but surely, the commercialization of the Horseshoe Crab population is leading to its disappearance which in turn threatens the shorebirds, especially Red Knot which is highly dependent on the eggs.
The high point? There were several but for me it was hearing the Hermit Thrush singing one of the most beautiful sounds in nature, echoing through the woods at Hunters Garden.
Eric Salzman
Friday, May 20, 2011
fog, Flickers and a mystery
This morning's fog was so heavy that it obliterated, not only Dune Road and most of Shinnecock Bay, but also the other side of the creek. This kind of dense. low-lying sea fog is not unusual in these parts and, although it hasn't produced any redwoods in our fog belt, it did nurture a tree moss which grew on Eastern Long Island in profusion and which, in turn, provided the main 'substrate' (I didn't make up that word; that's what they call it) for the nest of the Parula Warbler. That is to say, Parulas build their nest with and even in the hanging Usnea or, in the South, in the related Spanish Moss. When, for unknown reasons, the Usnea largely disappeared from Long Island so did the Parula as a breeder. Usnea, or Old Man's Beard, not a moss at all but a lichen, is making a small come-back on Long Island. So is the Parula Warbler which has returned in the recent years as a breeder after an absence of some fifty years. The first breeding records in half a century were in Queens and in Hither Hills where Joe Giunta and I found a female feeing young in 2001.
The Parula Warbler (or warblers) of recent days did not return here this morning; for the first time in almost a week, I didn't hear its buzzy song and I presume it has moved on. There are still Blackpolls around (so migration is not quite over yet) and the Flickers put on a surprising show. I saw two birds -- presumably a male and a female -- doing an extraordinary dancing display on adjacent limbs of an oak tree, bobbing up and down, reversing direction, throwing heads back with beak up in the air, making strange sounds, etc. The fact that both birds were doing it was surprising enough but when the birds flew a few moments later to another, closer tree perch, two more Flickers turned up and all four of them appeared to be doing the display. I tried to make out which ones were males and which females but all I can say is that there was at least one female in the crowd; the others may be have been males. I have seen courtship with multiple males displaying for a single female (I recently saw three Wild Turkey males in full display surrounding a single female) but the female is typically quiet and often pretends not to notice. But, even though this female Flicker (I assume she was a female as she lacked the moustache) had her back turned, she was as fully engaged in the display as the males.
One mystery of recent days has been solved! I've been hearing a strange soft gulp or throaty, gurgling sound coming from the woods. The first time I heard it a few days ago, it seemed to drift in from far-off and I wasn't even sure that I hadn't heard the sound of my own stomach gurgling! But, as I heard it repeatedly and more and more on succeeding days, I became convinced that it was coming from the trees in the middle of the woods. At one point, I decided that it was one or the other of our cuckoos. But it never evolved into one of the more familiar (and quite prominent) cuckoo calls. It was a short gulping call, often given in a long regular sequence with substantial pauses in between but it was never loud and had a distinctive and mysterious quality. Well I can report that I saw the bird fly into the woods and was able to locate it sitting on a branch below the canopy and calling. What was it? A Green Heron! This call, so different from its normal loud KEE-YOW, undoubtedly has something to do with its breeding activities as it has nested in these woods before. Eventually my staring with binoculars made it nervous and it flew off to a less visible post where it resumed its gulping. Long may the Flickers flick and the Green Herons gulp!
Eric Salzman
The Parula Warbler (or warblers) of recent days did not return here this morning; for the first time in almost a week, I didn't hear its buzzy song and I presume it has moved on. There are still Blackpolls around (so migration is not quite over yet) and the Flickers put on a surprising show. I saw two birds -- presumably a male and a female -- doing an extraordinary dancing display on adjacent limbs of an oak tree, bobbing up and down, reversing direction, throwing heads back with beak up in the air, making strange sounds, etc. The fact that both birds were doing it was surprising enough but when the birds flew a few moments later to another, closer tree perch, two more Flickers turned up and all four of them appeared to be doing the display. I tried to make out which ones were males and which females but all I can say is that there was at least one female in the crowd; the others may be have been males. I have seen courtship with multiple males displaying for a single female (I recently saw three Wild Turkey males in full display surrounding a single female) but the female is typically quiet and often pretends not to notice. But, even though this female Flicker (I assume she was a female as she lacked the moustache) had her back turned, she was as fully engaged in the display as the males.
One mystery of recent days has been solved! I've been hearing a strange soft gulp or throaty, gurgling sound coming from the woods. The first time I heard it a few days ago, it seemed to drift in from far-off and I wasn't even sure that I hadn't heard the sound of my own stomach gurgling! But, as I heard it repeatedly and more and more on succeeding days, I became convinced that it was coming from the trees in the middle of the woods. At one point, I decided that it was one or the other of our cuckoos. But it never evolved into one of the more familiar (and quite prominent) cuckoo calls. It was a short gulping call, often given in a long regular sequence with substantial pauses in between but it was never loud and had a distinctive and mysterious quality. Well I can report that I saw the bird fly into the woods and was able to locate it sitting on a branch below the canopy and calling. What was it? A Green Heron! This call, so different from its normal loud KEE-YOW, undoubtedly has something to do with its breeding activities as it has nested in these woods before. Eventually my staring with binoculars made it nervous and it flew off to a less visible post where it resumed its gulping. Long may the Flickers flick and the Green Herons gulp!
Eric Salzman
Thursday, May 19, 2011
chowder
It was a morning filled with rain and fog but it still managed to turn into a day full of incident. When I opened the back door to go out and get the newspaper, a Cottontail Rabbit scampered away. That may not sound so remarkable but our local rabbit population has dwindled away in recent years -- due (I think) to the loss of open habitat as reforestation has taken over the property. The local Box Turtles seem to find the damp weather agreeable; I saw three different turtles this morning and these were different individuals than the mating pair reported a day or two ago. Even in the rain birds were active. The Pine Warbler, which had been quiet for the past two or three days, reappeared and was trilling away. Parula Warbler and Blackpoll, both active in the past few days, continued to feed and sing, moving around the place, mostly in the oak canopy (although one Blackpoll was feeding in one of the cedars at the edge of the woods towards the water).
While it was still early, I decided to take a ride over to Hunters Garden and the Bald Hill Trail on the theory that, if there was activity in the rain in East Quogue, the Manorville sites would be even livelier. The Veeries (or it is 'Veerys'?) were in -- calling, singing and making themselves visible -- along with the other familiar residents. But the only migrants I could find were Parula Warbler and Blackpoll. One fast, loud and persistent call was either a Kentucky Warbler or, more likely, a Common Yellowthroat on speed. As I was trying to get a glimpse of the bird (I never did see it), I heard loud noises coming from the open area which had been completely empty a few minutes earlier. The members of the Hunters Garden Association had arrived and were setting up the huge pots for their semi-annual Chowder event (featuring clam or eel chowder) which has been held since 1833. Or so it is claimed.
On the way out, driving down the dirt entrance road, I stopped to talk to an old-timer who was heading in. When he realized that I was there for birds, not chowder, he asked me if I knew his cousin, LeRoy Wilcox. Indeed I did! Wilcox was a Remsenburg duck farmer on Brushy Neck Lane whose family had introduced the Peking Duck to this country, turning it into the Long Island duckling! Wilcox not only farmed birds but he spent a lot of time studying the wild ones, notably the Piping Plover for which he was long the world's leading expert. I first learned about Hunters Garden as a top birding site from -- you guessed it -- LeRoy Wilcox.
As a footnote, let me add that the French (or French-Canadian) name for those big pots is "chaudière" which is undoubtedly the origin of the word chowder! A chowder can be an eel or clam soup and/or the pot in which the soup is made and/or the big social event at which the stuff is consumed!
Eric Salzman
While it was still early, I decided to take a ride over to Hunters Garden and the Bald Hill Trail on the theory that, if there was activity in the rain in East Quogue, the Manorville sites would be even livelier. The Veeries (or it is 'Veerys'?) were in -- calling, singing and making themselves visible -- along with the other familiar residents. But the only migrants I could find were Parula Warbler and Blackpoll. One fast, loud and persistent call was either a Kentucky Warbler or, more likely, a Common Yellowthroat on speed. As I was trying to get a glimpse of the bird (I never did see it), I heard loud noises coming from the open area which had been completely empty a few minutes earlier. The members of the Hunters Garden Association had arrived and were setting up the huge pots for their semi-annual Chowder event (featuring clam or eel chowder) which has been held since 1833. Or so it is claimed.
On the way out, driving down the dirt entrance road, I stopped to talk to an old-timer who was heading in. When he realized that I was there for birds, not chowder, he asked me if I knew his cousin, LeRoy Wilcox. Indeed I did! Wilcox was a Remsenburg duck farmer on Brushy Neck Lane whose family had introduced the Peking Duck to this country, turning it into the Long Island duckling! Wilcox not only farmed birds but he spent a lot of time studying the wild ones, notably the Piping Plover for which he was long the world's leading expert. I first learned about Hunters Garden as a top birding site from -- you guessed it -- LeRoy Wilcox.
As a footnote, let me add that the French (or French-Canadian) name for those big pots is "chaudière" which is undoubtedly the origin of the word chowder! A chowder can be an eel or clam soup and/or the pot in which the soup is made and/or the big social event at which the stuff is consumed!
Eric Salzman
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Ocean's roar
I don't think I've ever heard the ocean's roar as loudly and as consistently as I have been hearing it today. The combination of off-shore storms and a steady south or southeast wind carries the sound over the barrier beach and across Shinnecock Bay to our enclave at the mouth of Weesuck Creek on the north/northwest side of the bay. This continuous, rough wash of sound across the landscape is also consonant (some might say 'dissonant') with the amount of water being pushed into the bay and the high 'spring' tides have again filled the pond up to the edge of its banks and flooded the marsh, turning it into a small, shallow inland sea. The flooding (and, presumably, the goodies that came in with tidewater) have attracted a few waders including Willets and several Great Egrets. The latter are in high breeding plumage with long plumes on the back (those plumes almost got them wiped out) and an extraordinary bright green face patch on the lores, the area between the yellow eyes and the base of the yellow bill. If you've never seen noticed this phenomenon, try to look a Great Egret in the face as soon as possible; this lime-green neon patch is on display only for a brief time in the spring (and the smaller Snowies don't have it).
A good-sized and very noisy flock of blackbirds -- Red-wings and Common Grackles -- has invaded the place every morning for the past few days with their array of trills and squeaks. These birds seem to be quite distinct from the local breeders who are on territory, mostly around the edges of the marsh and who venture back into the woods (or to a neighbor's bird feeder) on individual forays. In contrast, the flocking birds spread themselves through the woods, call vigorously, feed mostly on the ground, and tend to disappear later in the day. I would guess that they are either migratory birds still on their way north or they are made up of individuals who have not succeeded in establishing territories.
Eric Salzman
A good-sized and very noisy flock of blackbirds -- Red-wings and Common Grackles -- has invaded the place every morning for the past few days with their array of trills and squeaks. These birds seem to be quite distinct from the local breeders who are on territory, mostly around the edges of the marsh and who venture back into the woods (or to a neighbor's bird feeder) on individual forays. In contrast, the flocking birds spread themselves through the woods, call vigorously, feed mostly on the ground, and tend to disappear later in the day. I would guess that they are either migratory birds still on their way north or they are made up of individuals who have not succeeded in establishing territories.
Eric Salzman
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
damp
The weather has certainly put a damper on things but I did get one new bird today: a Spotted Sandpiper on the muddy edge of our pond at low tide. This little teeter-totter bird is a familiar wader in fall migration (they often show up as early as mid-July) but this is the first one I've seen this spring. Parula Warbler and Red-eyed Vireo are both still here along with a Common Yellowthroat on territory. No more Yellow Warblers and no Pine Warbler. Similarly, the Great Crested Flycatcher and Eastern Phoebe are hanging in but Eastern Wood-pewee has seemingly moved on.
I found a fallen nest -- presumably from last year -- at the foot of a pine tree, probably knocked down by the fairly strong winds of the past day or so. It was a rather messy shallow cup made out of dead grasses with strips of bark on the outside and no real lining. What bird made it? My first thought was Chipping Sparrow but it's probably too shallow for a sparrow. Grackle? Probably too small. Mourning Dove makes shallow unlined nests but usually made out of sticks. Pine Warbler? Too shallow and too unlined. The best match is Scarlet Tanager -- it makes a small, shallow and somewhat messy nest -- but that's a bird that has never nested down here to my knowledge. Hmmmmm.
Eric Salzman
I found a fallen nest -- presumably from last year -- at the foot of a pine tree, probably knocked down by the fairly strong winds of the past day or so. It was a rather messy shallow cup made out of dead grasses with strips of bark on the outside and no real lining. What bird made it? My first thought was Chipping Sparrow but it's probably too shallow for a sparrow. Grackle? Probably too small. Mourning Dove makes shallow unlined nests but usually made out of sticks. Pine Warbler? Too shallow and too unlined. The best match is Scarlet Tanager -- it makes a small, shallow and somewhat messy nest -- but that's a bird that has never nested down here to my knowledge. Hmmmmm.
Eric Salzman
Monday, May 16, 2011
between the rain drops
In spite of the recurrent sweeps of rainfall, the birds were, in bursts, more than usually active, hunting for food between the raindrops or during the relatively dry periods between showers. I saw (and heard) the my first Blackpoll of the season -- traditionally the bird that heralds the later part of the spring migration -- plus the more familiar Northern Parula, Yellow and Common Yellowthroat, all singing fairly intensely (all except the Yellowthroat in the canopy of oak trees). Also a Red-eyed Vireo, a species that has been hanging around and singing for the past few days. These vireos, which nest in numbers in the back woods, always come around down here in the early spring but never seem to make it as breeders. Similarly, there have been Fish Crows almost every day, not just flying over but hanging out and giving us their signature caws. Like the Green Heron, Pine Warbler and Yellow Warbler, the Red-eyed Vireo and Fish Crow are always to be looked for as a 'possible nesters' south of the highway.
Small flocks of Common Grackles continue to come by and look for insects around the house and yard. Are these locals or migrants? Hard to tell. They are the southern Purple Grackle type, not the Bronze Grackles that breed further north and that, up until recently, used to be the local breeding grackle (by they have, I believe, now been largely supplanted by the southern type everywhere on Eastern Long Island; the person who has documented this change is Larry Penny). We see Bronzed Grackles in fall migration and winter but at this time of year, every one of these birds seems to be a Purple. Not all of them will make it to wherever they are going. Just outside the backdoor, a clutch of grackle feathers (black with a colorful oily sheen to the edges of some of the feathers) suggests that a cat or an owl or a fox got one of these ground-feeding birds.
At low tide in the afternoon, a Flicker flew up from the edge of the pond; apparently it was feeding on the detritus (or on the insects that were feeding thereupon) that had come in with the major spring tides that have been covering the marsh and filling up the pond twice a day. Least Terns were flying up and down the creek but there were no shorebirds in evidence. Back in the woods, a flock of a dozen Cedar Waxwings came dashing through; these birds are late nesters and they have not begun their courtship and nesting activities. Maybe some of the grackles are also late nesters or non-breeding birds.
Finally, there was the climactic event of the day: a mating pair of Box Turtles -- the first of any turtles that I have seen this year on the property. They were right on the edge of the main path going toward the head of the marsh and only inches from my feet at I followed the curve of the trail. When I came along, the male had his neck extended as far out as I have ever seen on a turtle and it was curled around to the opening where the female had retracted her head (she was half buried in the soil and debris next to the path). He took one look at me with his bright orange eyes and then slipped off her back. Apparently the indentation on his lower plastron was not quite deep enough. Or perhaps his love had an exceptionally large domed upper plastron. Or perhaps I really did scare him and he was getting ready to high-tail it outta there (if that's the right expression for a turtle). At any rate, having already disturbed them more than enough, I high-tailed it outta there, leaving them to finish the essential business of creating Box Turtle futures!
Eric Salzman
Small flocks of Common Grackles continue to come by and look for insects around the house and yard. Are these locals or migrants? Hard to tell. They are the southern Purple Grackle type, not the Bronze Grackles that breed further north and that, up until recently, used to be the local breeding grackle (by they have, I believe, now been largely supplanted by the southern type everywhere on Eastern Long Island; the person who has documented this change is Larry Penny). We see Bronzed Grackles in fall migration and winter but at this time of year, every one of these birds seems to be a Purple. Not all of them will make it to wherever they are going. Just outside the backdoor, a clutch of grackle feathers (black with a colorful oily sheen to the edges of some of the feathers) suggests that a cat or an owl or a fox got one of these ground-feeding birds.
At low tide in the afternoon, a Flicker flew up from the edge of the pond; apparently it was feeding on the detritus (or on the insects that were feeding thereupon) that had come in with the major spring tides that have been covering the marsh and filling up the pond twice a day. Least Terns were flying up and down the creek but there were no shorebirds in evidence. Back in the woods, a flock of a dozen Cedar Waxwings came dashing through; these birds are late nesters and they have not begun their courtship and nesting activities. Maybe some of the grackles are also late nesters or non-breeding birds.
Finally, there was the climactic event of the day: a mating pair of Box Turtles -- the first of any turtles that I have seen this year on the property. They were right on the edge of the main path going toward the head of the marsh and only inches from my feet at I followed the curve of the trail. When I came along, the male had his neck extended as far out as I have ever seen on a turtle and it was curled around to the opening where the female had retracted her head (she was half buried in the soil and debris next to the path). He took one look at me with his bright orange eyes and then slipped off her back. Apparently the indentation on his lower plastron was not quite deep enough. Or perhaps his love had an exceptionally large domed upper plastron. Or perhaps I really did scare him and he was getting ready to high-tail it outta there (if that's the right expression for a turtle). At any rate, having already disturbed them more than enough, I high-tailed it outta there, leaving them to finish the essential business of creating Box Turtle futures!
Eric Salzman
Saturday, May 14, 2011
The mighty and the midgets
There was a Cooper's Hawk on the property this morning, sneaking around and apparently looking for its favorite prey: little birds. It first appeared over my shoulder and before I could get my binoculars up it had swooped by at a medium level and, gaining altitude, disappeared just over the treetops. Later I saw it (or another one) heading back out and around along the edge of the woods moving fast and at a good distance. I'm calling it Cooper's because it had a long tail and fairly broad wings; both were, by size, females of the species.
If the Cooper's was the mighty of my title, the midgets were the Common Yellowthroat and Yellow Warbler both of which seem to be tentatively setting up territories. The only other warbler seen was Yellow-rumped but there was a brief visit from a singing Red-eyed Vireo, a forest bird that is a regular visitor but never seems to stay and nest.
A Greater Yellowlegs accompanied by a half dozen Least Sandpipers was in the pond at low tide this afternoon, presenting yet another contrast in size, this time between sandpipers. The biggest local sandpiper is, of course, the Willet which was also in evidence.
Our two wrens -- Carolina and House -- are singing much less right now which suggests that they have just-hatched young. Or the persistently singing males have given up and are trying their luck elsewhere. The Carolina is the earliest nester around here, not counting the Great Horned Owl back in the woods.
Eric Salzman
If the Cooper's was the mighty of my title, the midgets were the Common Yellowthroat and Yellow Warbler both of which seem to be tentatively setting up territories. The only other warbler seen was Yellow-rumped but there was a brief visit from a singing Red-eyed Vireo, a forest bird that is a regular visitor but never seems to stay and nest.
A Greater Yellowlegs accompanied by a half dozen Least Sandpipers was in the pond at low tide this afternoon, presenting yet another contrast in size, this time between sandpipers. The biggest local sandpiper is, of course, the Willet which was also in evidence.
Our two wrens -- Carolina and House -- are singing much less right now which suggests that they have just-hatched young. Or the persistently singing males have given up and are trying their luck elsewhere. The Carolina is the earliest nester around here, not counting the Great Horned Owl back in the woods.
Eric Salzman
Friday, May 13, 2011
Chimney Swifts and a musical premiere
In my report on Wednesday's tour with Mark Cocker, I forgot to mention the appearance of Chimney Swifts in considerable numbers flying with the various swallows over the ice pond at the Quogue Refuge. Back at the refuge this morning, there were Chimney Swifts everywhere and the White-eyed Vireo was singing from wetlands next to the boardwalk as it was on Wednesday. But the only warblers I was able to pull up were the Yellow and Common Yellowthroat that stay to breed.
As a reminder, the Suite from my gangster opera "The Last Words of Dutch Schultz" will have its premiere at the Southampton Cultural Center, 25 Pond Lane (opposite Agawam Park and Lake) in Southampton on Sunday at 3 pm. The performers are Marc Levine, violin, Gloria Shih, piano, Dylan Benson, percussion. The piece will be performed on a program of East End Composers that includes Victoria Bond, Bruce Wolosoff and Stephen Dickman.
Eric Salzman
As a reminder, the Suite from my gangster opera "The Last Words of Dutch Schultz" will have its premiere at the Southampton Cultural Center, 25 Pond Lane (opposite Agawam Park and Lake) in Southampton on Sunday at 3 pm. The performers are Marc Levine, violin, Gloria Shih, piano, Dylan Benson, percussion. The piece will be performed on a program of East End Composers that includes Victoria Bond, Bruce Wolosoff and Stephen Dickman.
Eric Salzman
Thursday, May 12, 2011
Visitors from abroad
The last couple of days have been great for visitors from abroad. The author and birder, Mark Cocker, came on Tuesday and only left this morning for a couple of days in the Adirondacks before returning to his home base in East Anglia, Great Britain. Mark, who wrote "Birders: Tales of a Tribe" and other notable books, is working on a new project on the subject of human culture and birds. On Wednesday, with a group from ELIAS (Eastern Long Island Audubon Society), we paid a visit to Hunters Garden with subsequent stops on the Bald Hill Trail, a part of Dune Road, and the Quogue Wildlife Refuge. It was a good day bird-wise, the best so far in this spring season.
Mark came from across the Atlantic; most of the other long-range visitors came by air from the south. Tuesday was in fact, an outstanding migration day with substantial arrivals at all locations. It was, above all, a warbler day, with a count of 15 species including a couple of the less common varieties. Hunters Garden was active from the moment of our arrival at 7:15 am, with, among other things, Bay-breasted and Blackburnian Warblers plus the more familiar species: Yellow-rumped, Black-and-white, American Redstart, Ovenbird, Pine Warbler, Northern Parula and Common Yellowthroat. A pair of mysterious, rather unmarked gray birds with weak eye stripes, first thought to be warblers, were finally identified as Warbling Vireos, a bird that has become more common on Eastern Long Island and is being seen more and more in migration. Red-eyed Vireos were singing everywhere. Other birds included Ruby-throated Hummingbird, Eastern Wood-Pewee, Great Crested Flycatcher, Eastern Kingbird, Baltimore Oriole, Scarlet Tanager, Blue-gray Gnatcatcher, Brown-headed Cowbird, Eastern Towhee and Chipping Sparrow. Bald Hill was only a little less notable with singing Wood Thrush, Wild Turkey and two notable warblers, Black-throated Green and Magnolia, in addition to many of the same species seen earlier at Hunters Gardens. Still no Veery and no Hermit Thrush.
After lunch, a trip down to the Shinnecock Inlet and Dune Road produced many Common and Least Terns, the usual gulls (Black-backed, Herring and Ring-billed), Northern Gannets on the ocean, a loon or two, Brant, Red-breasted Merganser, many cormorants and a small array of shore birds including Am Oystercatchers, Black-belled Plover, Dunlin, Sanderlings and Least Sandpipers. Not very far west of Ponquogue, Dune Road was completely flooded and our journey ground to a halt. At the edge of the floodwater, we spent some time watching Willets displaying and generally carrying on and we also inspected the differences between Common and Boat-tailed-Grackes, tried (unsuccessfully) to turn one of the Least Sandpipers into a Pectoral, and noted the appearance over the dunes of a Northern Harrier and a singing Yellow Warbler in the dune vegetation. We did not attempt to cross the flood zone but turned back across Ponquogue Bridge, heading to the Quogue Wildlife Refuge whose wetlands boardwalk was very productive with, among other things, Common Yellowthroat, Northern Waterthrush and White-eyed Vireo. Both the Waterthrush and the White-eyed Vireo were first recognized by song and then pished in by Mark (who turned out to be a very good pisher). And, surprise, the Vireo came in accompanied by a Wilson's Warbler, always a good find in these parts. At the far end of the boardwalk was a small 'yellow warbler' which, in retrospect, I think was, not a Yellow Warbler, but a female Wilson's, a bird that is easily overlooked.
Perhaps the most remarkable observation from the boardwalk was what appeared to be a large insect bouncing up and down at great speed through the dense vegetation but which in fact turned out to be the Shuttle (or Pendulum) Display of the male Ruby-throated Hummingbird. In making this display, the bird forms a perfect swinging arc that is so precise that it looks like a mechanical toy on a string! It is presumably always performed in the presence of a female and this is a good sign for hummingbird nesting in the vicinity.
The busy swallow activity over the main pond included all four local swallows -- Barn, Tree, Bank and Rough-winged. As we were watching the swallows from the boardwalk, a young man and his Latino girl friend approached us and asked what we were watching and we eventually got engaged in a fairly lengthy conversation. He turned out to be a former software entrepeneur who dropped out during the dot.com bust and was now operating a corporation that invests in land in Costa Rica, some of which is put aside for conservation purposes but other portions of which are planted in palm oil, pineapple and teak. A fairly substantial discoussion emerged about the ethics and desirability of all this. His argument was that most of the land purchased for planting had already been deforested, that agriculture was a better use of the land than cattle ranching, that the percentage of land being conserved as forest far outweighed the amount of land that was being developed, and that, in effect, limited agricultural development was helping to save large tracts of rain forest.
Finally, as we pulled into our place in East Quogue, we found a singing yellow warbler that was not a Yellow Warbler but turned out to be a Nashville, a nice finish to an extremely productive day.
I should add that a morning walk on the property just preceding Mark's departure, turned up both Greater and Lesser Yellowlegs, Willets, Yellow Warbler and Common Yellowthroat, singing Warbling Vireo, a flock of Cedar Waxwings, and a low perched male Ruby-throated Hummingbird. not doing a display but just sitting quietly and, as they say, showing well, gorget flashing in the dappled light.
Perhaps Mark should come and visit more often. He seems to have brought good birds and good birding with him!
Eric Salzman
Mark came from across the Atlantic; most of the other long-range visitors came by air from the south. Tuesday was in fact, an outstanding migration day with substantial arrivals at all locations. It was, above all, a warbler day, with a count of 15 species including a couple of the less common varieties. Hunters Garden was active from the moment of our arrival at 7:15 am, with, among other things, Bay-breasted and Blackburnian Warblers plus the more familiar species: Yellow-rumped, Black-and-white, American Redstart, Ovenbird, Pine Warbler, Northern Parula and Common Yellowthroat. A pair of mysterious, rather unmarked gray birds with weak eye stripes, first thought to be warblers, were finally identified as Warbling Vireos, a bird that has become more common on Eastern Long Island and is being seen more and more in migration. Red-eyed Vireos were singing everywhere. Other birds included Ruby-throated Hummingbird, Eastern Wood-Pewee, Great Crested Flycatcher, Eastern Kingbird, Baltimore Oriole, Scarlet Tanager, Blue-gray Gnatcatcher, Brown-headed Cowbird, Eastern Towhee and Chipping Sparrow. Bald Hill was only a little less notable with singing Wood Thrush, Wild Turkey and two notable warblers, Black-throated Green and Magnolia, in addition to many of the same species seen earlier at Hunters Gardens. Still no Veery and no Hermit Thrush.
After lunch, a trip down to the Shinnecock Inlet and Dune Road produced many Common and Least Terns, the usual gulls (Black-backed, Herring and Ring-billed), Northern Gannets on the ocean, a loon or two, Brant, Red-breasted Merganser, many cormorants and a small array of shore birds including Am Oystercatchers, Black-belled Plover, Dunlin, Sanderlings and Least Sandpipers. Not very far west of Ponquogue, Dune Road was completely flooded and our journey ground to a halt. At the edge of the floodwater, we spent some time watching Willets displaying and generally carrying on and we also inspected the differences between Common and Boat-tailed-Grackes, tried (unsuccessfully) to turn one of the Least Sandpipers into a Pectoral, and noted the appearance over the dunes of a Northern Harrier and a singing Yellow Warbler in the dune vegetation. We did not attempt to cross the flood zone but turned back across Ponquogue Bridge, heading to the Quogue Wildlife Refuge whose wetlands boardwalk was very productive with, among other things, Common Yellowthroat, Northern Waterthrush and White-eyed Vireo. Both the Waterthrush and the White-eyed Vireo were first recognized by song and then pished in by Mark (who turned out to be a very good pisher). And, surprise, the Vireo came in accompanied by a Wilson's Warbler, always a good find in these parts. At the far end of the boardwalk was a small 'yellow warbler' which, in retrospect, I think was, not a Yellow Warbler, but a female Wilson's, a bird that is easily overlooked.
Perhaps the most remarkable observation from the boardwalk was what appeared to be a large insect bouncing up and down at great speed through the dense vegetation but which in fact turned out to be the Shuttle (or Pendulum) Display of the male Ruby-throated Hummingbird. In making this display, the bird forms a perfect swinging arc that is so precise that it looks like a mechanical toy on a string! It is presumably always performed in the presence of a female and this is a good sign for hummingbird nesting in the vicinity.
The busy swallow activity over the main pond included all four local swallows -- Barn, Tree, Bank and Rough-winged. As we were watching the swallows from the boardwalk, a young man and his Latino girl friend approached us and asked what we were watching and we eventually got engaged in a fairly lengthy conversation. He turned out to be a former software entrepeneur who dropped out during the dot.com bust and was now operating a corporation that invests in land in Costa Rica, some of which is put aside for conservation purposes but other portions of which are planted in palm oil, pineapple and teak. A fairly substantial discoussion emerged about the ethics and desirability of all this. His argument was that most of the land purchased for planting had already been deforested, that agriculture was a better use of the land than cattle ranching, that the percentage of land being conserved as forest far outweighed the amount of land that was being developed, and that, in effect, limited agricultural development was helping to save large tracts of rain forest.
Finally, as we pulled into our place in East Quogue, we found a singing yellow warbler that was not a Yellow Warbler but turned out to be a Nashville, a nice finish to an extremely productive day.
I should add that a morning walk on the property just preceding Mark's departure, turned up both Greater and Lesser Yellowlegs, Willets, Yellow Warbler and Common Yellowthroat, singing Warbling Vireo, a flock of Cedar Waxwings, and a low perched male Ruby-throated Hummingbird. not doing a display but just sitting quietly and, as they say, showing well, gorget flashing in the dappled light.
Perhaps Mark should come and visit more often. He seems to have brought good birds and good birding with him!
Eric Salzman
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
A Murder of Crows and a great bird guide in Eastern Europe
A huge racket of crows on Weesuck Creek drew me out of the house in the middle of the day yesterday to run down to the water. Unfortunately, by the time I got to a place where I had a clear view of the creek, the crows had all disappeared over the Pine Neck tree line on the opposite shore. But the racket continued; there must have been dozens if not hundreds of crows involved -- a veritable 'murder of crows' (yes, 'murder' is the correct Olde English noun for a collection of crows). As more and more crows came streaming over the creek to get to the site of all the action, I suddenly noticed two crows flying in the opposite direction back across the creek. What happened to make them change their minds? Why weren't they caught up in the excitement? And then one of the crows called and I had my answer. They were Fish Crows!
It's often said that, when you hear loud drumming coming from a tree trunk, it's a woodpecker song. In other words, woodpecker music is percussion music and woodpecker males drum loudly to establish territory and attract mates. Be that as it may, I heard and saw a female Downy Woodpecker drumming on a dead tree trunk and making about as loud a percussion racket as this little bird can make. It kept it up until suddenly a male arrived, at which point the female flew away. There was what looked like a fresh hole not far away and it occurred to me that the female was calling the male to take over nesting duties. However, although the male hung around the trunk for a while, it did not go in and, as it seemingly searched for food, took its investigations to several nearby trees. Perhaps the female was calling it in to take over duties at the nest hole (finishing the excavation of the nest hole if not actually sitting on eggs). If so, the male -- perhaps spooked by my too obvious interest -- would not go there while I was watching.
Last fall, I posted a trip report about my visit to Latvia -- partly a tour of my music and music-theater work but also including a wonderful week birding with Karlis Millers (you can find the report in the 2010 archives of my blog). Karlis -- or Carlo as he likes to be known -- is perhaps the premier birder in this small Baltic country which is noted for its mix of northern, Western and Eastern European birds. It has many birds that are very difficult to see in Western Europe and some Eastern specialties that you will not see in the West. It is also a hotspot during migration; I had the privilege of witnessing the biggest migration spectacle I have ever seen anywhere at a place called Pape with literally thousands of birds of dozens of different species moving through on all levels on a brilliant early fall morning. Karlis has put together a Latvian bird site and he also organizes bird tours in his country (and in the three Baltic countries generally). He knows the birds, he knows where they are, his English is excellent and he is a great guide. His e-mail contact is . Tell him Eric sent you!
Eric Salzman
It's often said that, when you hear loud drumming coming from a tree trunk, it's a woodpecker song. In other words, woodpecker music is percussion music and woodpecker males drum loudly to establish territory and attract mates. Be that as it may, I heard and saw a female Downy Woodpecker drumming on a dead tree trunk and making about as loud a percussion racket as this little bird can make. It kept it up until suddenly a male arrived, at which point the female flew away. There was what looked like a fresh hole not far away and it occurred to me that the female was calling the male to take over nesting duties. However, although the male hung around the trunk for a while, it did not go in and, as it seemingly searched for food, took its investigations to several nearby trees. Perhaps the female was calling it in to take over duties at the nest hole (finishing the excavation of the nest hole if not actually sitting on eggs). If so, the male -- perhaps spooked by my too obvious interest -- would not go there while I was watching.
Last fall, I posted a trip report about my visit to Latvia -- partly a tour of my music and music-theater work but also including a wonderful week birding with Karlis Millers (you can find the report in the 2010 archives of my blog
Eric Salzman
Monday, May 9, 2011
Here are three photographs -- of Chestnut-sided Warbler, Scarlet Tanager and Hairy Woodpecker -- taken by Linda Sullivan during our ELIAS walk in Maple Swamp yesterday (Sunday, May 8). In my bird blog yesterday on the walk, I forgot to mention the Hairy Woodpecker which took great umbrage at our presence on the trail and flew perfect circles around us over and over again, calling loudly in that short, sharp shriek that Hairy Woodpeckers use. It circled so neatly and so consistently that I am sure that it had a nest hole in one of the many dead tree stubs surrounding us (but, of course, would not come in to betray the spot while we were standing there oohing and aahing).
Thanks, Linda!
Eric
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Maple Swamp 5/8/11
This morning's ELIAS walk in Maple Swamp was disappointing in the absence of the swarms of May migrants that have been seen here in years past but there were still some good birds and one mystery sighting that was probably an A+ bird.
The first question is always about warblers. The best sighting was a Chestnut-sided male seen often and close. I'm not sure if that bird has ever nested in Maple Swamp but it has disappeared as a breeder from most of Long Island and its return would certainly be welcome!
Other warblers: Blue-wing, Am Redstart, Ovenbird, Yellow, Common Yellowthroat, Black-and-White, Yellow-rumped and Pine, making a total of nine species in all.
Eastern Wood-Pewee was present and singing along with Eastern Phoebe and Great Crested Flycatcher. Breathtaking looks at Scarlet Tanager, Baltimore Oriole and Orchard Oriole were easy to get in the still nascent leaf canopy. A pair of Blue-Gray Gnatcatchers was foraging on the ground and in the low bushes a few feet in front of us. Red-eyed Vireo was singing but no Wood Thrushes or Veerys (Veeries?).
A resplendent male Indigo Bunting made a dramatic appearance flitting low and easy-to-see on Pleasure Drive at the beginning of the day. But the mystery bird, alas not seen by me, was at the end of the day: a sparrow in the grass at the old horse farm seen together with and in contrast to a Chipping Sparrow. This bird, seen first in the grass and then on lower branch of a Red Cedar, was described as flat-headed, streaky, with yellow on the face and colorful on the back. Both of the birders who saw it well were fairly experienced and recognized it immediately as something different and "out of place", describing it as "like a bright Seaside Sparrow". A flat-headed sparrow is almost certainly an Ammodramus but our Seasides are not colorful or bright (and probably do not visit old horse farms very often) and the adult Grasshopper Sparrow is not streaky on the front. The bird that fits is Henslow's Sparrow and I can say from personal experience that the facial color of this species, although usually described as green or olive, can look quite yellowish in the right light! At any time and place, even the suspicion of a Henslow's is a 'wow' moment!
Eric Salzman
The first question is always about warblers. The best sighting was a Chestnut-sided male seen often and close. I'm not sure if that bird has ever nested in Maple Swamp but it has disappeared as a breeder from most of Long Island and its return would certainly be welcome!
Other warblers: Blue-wing, Am Redstart, Ovenbird, Yellow, Common Yellowthroat, Black-and-White, Yellow-rumped and Pine, making a total of nine species in all.
Eastern Wood-Pewee was present and singing along with Eastern Phoebe and Great Crested Flycatcher. Breathtaking looks at Scarlet Tanager, Baltimore Oriole and Orchard Oriole were easy to get in the still nascent leaf canopy. A pair of Blue-Gray Gnatcatchers was foraging on the ground and in the low bushes a few feet in front of us. Red-eyed Vireo was singing but no Wood Thrushes or Veerys (Veeries?).
A resplendent male Indigo Bunting made a dramatic appearance flitting low and easy-to-see on Pleasure Drive at the beginning of the day. But the mystery bird, alas not seen by me, was at the end of the day: a sparrow in the grass at the old horse farm seen together with and in contrast to a Chipping Sparrow. This bird, seen first in the grass and then on lower branch of a Red Cedar, was described as flat-headed, streaky, with yellow on the face and colorful on the back. Both of the birders who saw it well were fairly experienced and recognized it immediately as something different and "out of place", describing it as "like a bright Seaside Sparrow". A flat-headed sparrow is almost certainly an Ammodramus but our Seasides are not colorful or bright (and probably do not visit old horse farms very often) and the adult Grasshopper Sparrow is not streaky on the front. The bird that fits is Henslow's Sparrow and I can say from personal experience that the facial color of this species, although usually described as green or olive, can look quite yellowish in the right light! At any time and place, even the suspicion of a Henslow's is a 'wow' moment!
Eric Salzman
Saturday, May 7, 2011
"Birding by Ear" at the Grace Estate
This morning's SOFO walk -- under the rubric "Birding By Ear" -- took place at the Grace Estate in the Northwest section of the Town of East Hampton. The Grace Estate is a large tract which was originally owned by the family and/or the company that owned the Grace Lines, a famous group of transatlantic steamships. After the tract was sold, some private development was permitted on part of the it but most of it was turned into a natural area in a part of the East End that is quite rich in lands set aside in their natural state.
The Grace Estate has the reputation of having the greatest diversity of nesting birds in East Hampton and it is notable for having hosted such breeding rarities as Cerulean Warbler, Chestnut-sided Warbler and Acadian Flycatcher (none of which, alas, appear to be nesting there anymore). YELLOW-THROATED VIREO is, however, apparently still a breeding species here. We found it this morning and had good looks -- appropriately, after hearing it sing its fractured vireo song quite loudly and persistently. This bird has been quite regular at this spot over the years although nesting evidence is difficult to come by (it nests and generally hangs out high up in the trees). This is the same species that I saw in East Quogue earlier in the week. Perhaps it is becoming more common in these parts.
Other species located by song (and mostly also seen) included six species of warblers (Common Yellowthroat, American Redstart, Yellow Warbler, Prairie Warbler, Ovenbird and Yellow-rumped), three flycatchers (Great Crested Flycatcher, Eastern Kingbird and Eastern Wood-pewee), three woodpeckers (Downy, Red-bellied and Northern Flicker), two wrens (House and Carolina), two mimids (Gray Catbird and Brown Thrasher), Scarlet Tanager, Baltimore Oriole, Red-eyed Vireo, Black-capped Chickadee, Tufted Titmouse, Blue-gray Gnatcatcher, White-breasted Nuthatch, Eastern Towhee, several icterids (Brown-headed Cowbird, Red-winged Blackbird and Common Grackle) and a number of familiar backyard birds (Am Robin, Blue Jay, House Finch, Canada Goose, American Crow, Northern Cardinal, etc.). No thrushes (it might be early for them).
There were two almosts: a probable Orchard Oriole song was heard but the bird was not located. And a woodpecker flyby that showed lots of white was very likely a Red-headed Woodpecker; alas, it disappeared and was not seen or heard from again.
A spectacular curiosity on the Northwest Road driving in was the presence of four Wild Turkeys, three of which were males in full display surrounding a single female!
Eric Salzman
The Grace Estate has the reputation of having the greatest diversity of nesting birds in East Hampton and it is notable for having hosted such breeding rarities as Cerulean Warbler, Chestnut-sided Warbler and Acadian Flycatcher (none of which, alas, appear to be nesting there anymore). YELLOW-THROATED VIREO is, however, apparently still a breeding species here. We found it this morning and had good looks -- appropriately, after hearing it sing its fractured vireo song quite loudly and persistently. This bird has been quite regular at this spot over the years although nesting evidence is difficult to come by (it nests and generally hangs out high up in the trees). This is the same species that I saw in East Quogue earlier in the week. Perhaps it is becoming more common in these parts.
Other species located by song (and mostly also seen) included six species of warblers (Common Yellowthroat, American Redstart, Yellow Warbler, Prairie Warbler, Ovenbird and Yellow-rumped), three flycatchers (Great Crested Flycatcher, Eastern Kingbird and Eastern Wood-pewee), three woodpeckers (Downy, Red-bellied and Northern Flicker), two wrens (House and Carolina), two mimids (Gray Catbird and Brown Thrasher), Scarlet Tanager, Baltimore Oriole, Red-eyed Vireo, Black-capped Chickadee, Tufted Titmouse, Blue-gray Gnatcatcher, White-breasted Nuthatch, Eastern Towhee, several icterids (Brown-headed Cowbird, Red-winged Blackbird and Common Grackle) and a number of familiar backyard birds (Am Robin, Blue Jay, House Finch, Canada Goose, American Crow, Northern Cardinal, etc.). No thrushes (it might be early for them).
There were two almosts: a probable Orchard Oriole song was heard but the bird was not located. And a woodpecker flyby that showed lots of white was very likely a Red-headed Woodpecker; alas, it disappeared and was not seen or heard from again.
A spectacular curiosity on the Northwest Road driving in was the presence of four Wild Turkeys, three of which were males in full display surrounding a single female!
Eric Salzman
Friday, May 6, 2011
Catching up: Wednesday, Thursday & Friday
Wednesday, May 4. Heavy overcast but dry. A strange little waterfowl swimming in the pond turned to be a Greater Yellowlegs paddling around like a mini-duck. The Purple Martins, mostly hanging around the martin houses, and the Willets, mostly on the far side of the creek (but occasionally over on this side), are both settling their domestic business with a maximum of noise -- the Martins with continual chippering rounds of their video-game calls and the willets with the endless repetitions and variations on their name. The first Common Yellowthroat of the season, calling and chipping, turned up in the shrubbery at the far end of the old right-of-way but the calling warblers high in the tree tops all turned out to be Yellow-rumps. Great Crested Flycatcher marked his movements with loud, croaking, laughing calls but an Eastern Phoebe barely emitted only an unfamiliar little buzz; I might not have recognized it a Phoebe at all if it weren't for its persistent tail-wagging. Not all the newly arrived birds were welcome; add two squeaky male Brown-headed Cowbirds to the list. The plethora of singing House Wrens all over the territory all week may in fact only be a single bird which tirelessly tries out its bubbling song from every conceivable corner. Accounting for the calling Baltimare Orioles does, however, require the presence of more than one male; in fact, there have been three or four different birds working the burgeoning oaks. Hope the cowbirds don't dupe any of these with their nefarious egg-laying
Thursday, May 5. A trial run to Maple Swamp (in preparation for Sunday's walk). Strong winds from the north appear to have held down potential migration but many -- not all! -- of the local breeding birds were in. The only long-distance migrant was a Palm Warbler although a small, skulking, greenish bird that got away into the dense shrubbery at the edge of Maple Swamp Pond might have been something good (probably a female Tennessee Warbler foraging low down instead of high up because that's where the food was this morning).
Friday, May 6. Beautiful, blue-sky morning after a cool overnight (frost on the edge of the marsh). Two Lesser Yellowlegs flying in formation made a couple of passes across the mouth of the pond; other yellowlegs -- presumably Greater -- were flying in the distance. As the day warmed up, a screeping, laughing Great Crested Flycatcher turned up and a trilling Pine Warbler as well, the latter for the first time this season (the only other warbler seen was a Yellow-rump). But the bird of the morning was a COMMON MERGANSER in the water at the mouth of the pond and the first of its species that I have seen here. It was initially seen in silhouette against the rising sun but eventually it swam out into the creek and moved far enough over into good light to show most of its markings. This was a big duck with a smooth, rounded head, riding high on the water and showing generous areas of white side and breast with only a thin dark line extending from the dark back into the white; it had an all-dark head, a sharp division between the dark head and the white lower neck and breast, and a merganser bill that was thick at the base. All these features were distinct from those of the Red-breasted Merganser which is the merganser that one expects to see on the creek in winter and migration. Our total is now 236 species.
As a reminder, Sunday's ELIAS walk in Maple Swamp begins at 8 am from the pull-out on the eastern side of Pleasure Drive in Flanders (about 1/2 to 3/4 of a mile south of Rt. 24). I will actually be there at 7:30 (a time that was also announced) and we will spend the first 1/2 hour birding the area between the old horse pasture and the road. At a few minutes after 8, we'll depart for the pasture and the woods beyond. Ticks were almost absent on Thursday walk but I would still come prepared to deal with the buggers.
Saturday's SOFO walk in the East Hampton Grace Estate begins at 8 am from the pull-out on Northwest Road just short of where it meets Alewife Brook Road in the Northwest section of East Hampton. From the west the directions are as follows: take Swamp Road east/northeast from Rt. 114 just southeast of Sag Harbor. Turn right on Northwest Landing Road, right again on Old Northwest Road and almost immediately left on Northwest Road which you follow almost to the junction of Alewife Brook Road; you will see a pull-out area on the right opposite one of the main entrances to the Grace Estate. The focus of this walk will be "Birding by Ear"; we expect to catch most of the local breeders and perhaps some migrants.
Eric Salzman
P.O. Box 775 (14 Randall Lane)
East Quogue NY 11942
631 653-5236
es@ericsalzman.com
www.ericsalzman.com
Thursday, May 5. A trial run to Maple Swamp (in preparation for Sunday's walk). Strong winds from the north appear to have held down potential migration but many -- not all! -- of the local breeding birds were in. The only long-distance migrant was a Palm Warbler although a small, skulking, greenish bird that got away into the dense shrubbery at the edge of Maple Swamp Pond might have been something good (probably a female Tennessee Warbler foraging low down instead of high up because that's where the food was this morning).
Friday, May 6. Beautiful, blue-sky morning after a cool overnight (frost on the edge of the marsh). Two Lesser Yellowlegs flying in formation made a couple of passes across the mouth of the pond; other yellowlegs -- presumably Greater -- were flying in the distance. As the day warmed up, a screeping, laughing Great Crested Flycatcher turned up and a trilling Pine Warbler as well, the latter for the first time this season (the only other warbler seen was a Yellow-rump). But the bird of the morning was a COMMON MERGANSER in the water at the mouth of the pond and the first of its species that I have seen here. It was initially seen in silhouette against the rising sun but eventually it swam out into the creek and moved far enough over into good light to show most of its markings. This was a big duck with a smooth, rounded head, riding high on the water and showing generous areas of white side and breast with only a thin dark line extending from the dark back into the white; it had an all-dark head, a sharp division between the dark head and the white lower neck and breast, and a merganser bill that was thick at the base. All these features were distinct from those of the Red-breasted Merganser which is the merganser that one expects to see on the creek in winter and migration. Our total is now 236 species.
As a reminder, Sunday's ELIAS walk in Maple Swamp begins at 8 am from the pull-out on the eastern side of Pleasure Drive in Flanders (about 1/2 to 3/4 of a mile south of Rt. 24). I will actually be there at 7:30 (a time that was also announced) and we will spend the first 1/2 hour birding the area between the old horse pasture and the road. At a few minutes after 8, we'll depart for the pasture and the woods beyond. Ticks were almost absent on Thursday walk but I would still come prepared to deal with the buggers.
Saturday's SOFO walk in the East Hampton Grace Estate begins at 8 am from the pull-out on Northwest Road just short of where it meets Alewife Brook Road in the Northwest section of East Hampton. From the west the directions are as follows: take Swamp Road east/northeast from Rt. 114 just southeast of Sag Harbor. Turn right on Northwest Landing Road, right again on Old Northwest Road and almost immediately left on Northwest Road which you follow almost to the junction of Alewife Brook Road; you will see a pull-out area on the right opposite one of the main entrances to the Grace Estate. The focus of this walk will be "Birding by Ear"; we expect to catch most of the local breeders and perhaps some migrants.
Eric Salzman
P.O. Box 775 (14 Randall Lane)
East Quogue NY 11942
631 653-5236
es@ericsalzman.com
www.ericsalzman.com
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
a short blog for Tuesday
Tuesday, May 3. A cloudy morning giving way to hazy sunshine. Wind from the south with the sound of surf coming across the bay from the ocean. The southern breezes did not, however, bring in new birds although some birds may have left. The morning chorus was more subdued with no Rose-breasted Grosbeak and no Orchard Oriole. However there was a notable replacement in the form of a singing Scarlet Tanager -- not quite as beautiful vocally, but equally persistent. Didn't actually see this glamour bird but I did get a good look at a female. The Baltimore Orioles and Catbirds were also in good voice; like many other birds, they are starting to set up territories, court, etc.
Monday, May 2, 2011
Spring Song
I was up before dawn this morning and in time to savor the dawn chorus -- an early morning challenge that gets increasingly difficult as the sun comes up earlier and earlier. The dawn chorus is, of course, that burst of spring birdsong that greets the arrival of a new day. It starts very early as first light shows in the east and increases in volume as the light increases in intensity. All the spring songsters join in -- even some of the ones that are just passing through -- in a full-throated song ensemble of such great volume and intensity that it is often difficult to separate out the individual strands of song; this is truly a counterpoint of symphonic dimensions. After the sun appears, the full chorus falls off although, in the clear, bright atmosphere of early spring, birds continue to sing all morning (and it is a lot easier to pick out the individual songs).
Some of our best songsters were in the mix this morning. Alas, no thrushes but both Carolina and House Wrens were there. Thrushes and wrens include some of the world's best singers; our local representatives of those tribes are perhaps more distinguished by persistence than by sheer beauty of sound. Another group of outstanding vocalists are the mimids and, sure enough, the Northern Mockingbird and Gray Catbird were in there this morning. Some biologists call the Brown Thrasher, our third local mimid, the world's greatest singer -- not so much for sheer beauty of sound but because this bird has the largest known repertoire of songs; Thrashers habitually sing each song twice in a row but they can go on for hours at a time without repeating themselves any further. There were two Thrashers back of the house this morning; one of them was singing from the highest tree top while the other foraged, as thrashers are wont to do, in the leaf litter on the ground. I know for sure that one was a male; perhaps the other was his mate. Occasionally the male would drop down to the ground and join his associate in the hunt for something to eat before climbing back up to his song perch.
Of all the singers you can hear on the East End, two of the most attractive for both looks and tonal quality are the Rose-breasted Grosbeak and the Orchard Oriole. Neither one is all that common in these parts but both were singing away this morning. Their songs are actually quite similar: both short and quite melodic. The Grosbeak has the purer tone; the Oriole song usually mixes in some throatier tones. Unlike our warblers (which don't warble), these are warbley songs par excellence. The Oriole, which has been on the increase in recent years, has nested around here in the past and might do so again. Maybe the Grosbeak will too; I'm keeping an eye out for a female.
Eric Salzman
Some of our best songsters were in the mix this morning. Alas, no thrushes but both Carolina and House Wrens were there. Thrushes and wrens include some of the world's best singers; our local representatives of those tribes are perhaps more distinguished by persistence than by sheer beauty of sound. Another group of outstanding vocalists are the mimids and, sure enough, the Northern Mockingbird and Gray Catbird were in there this morning. Some biologists call the Brown Thrasher, our third local mimid, the world's greatest singer -- not so much for sheer beauty of sound but because this bird has the largest known repertoire of songs; Thrashers habitually sing each song twice in a row but they can go on for hours at a time without repeating themselves any further. There were two Thrashers back of the house this morning; one of them was singing from the highest tree top while the other foraged, as thrashers are wont to do, in the leaf litter on the ground. I know for sure that one was a male; perhaps the other was his mate. Occasionally the male would drop down to the ground and join his associate in the hunt for something to eat before climbing back up to his song perch.
Of all the singers you can hear on the East End, two of the most attractive for both looks and tonal quality are the Rose-breasted Grosbeak and the Orchard Oriole. Neither one is all that common in these parts but both were singing away this morning. Their songs are actually quite similar: both short and quite melodic. The Grosbeak has the purer tone; the Oriole song usually mixes in some throatier tones. Unlike our warblers (which don't warble), these are warbley songs par excellence. The Oriole, which has been on the increase in recent years, has nested around here in the past and might do so again. Maybe the Grosbeak will too; I'm keeping an eye out for a female.
Eric Salzman
Spring s
I was up before dawn this morning and in time to savor the dawn chorus -- an early morning challenge that gets increasingly difficult as the sun comes up earlier and earlier. The dawn chorus is, of course, that burst of spring birdsong that greets the arrival of a new day. It starts very early as first light shows in the east and increases in volume as the light increases in intensity. All the spring songsters join in -- even some of the ones that are just passing through -- in a full-throated song ensemble of such great volume and intensity that it is often difficult to separate out the individual strands of song; this is truly a counterpoint of symphonic dimensions. After the sun appears, the full chorus falls off although, in the clear, bright atmosphere of early spring, birds continue to sing all morning (and it is a lot easier to pick out the individual songs).
Some of our best songsters were in the mix this morning. Alas, no thrushes but both Carolina and House Wrens were there. Thrushes and wrens include some of the world's best singers; our local representatives of those tribes are perhaps more distinguished by persistence than by sheer beauty of sound. Another group of outstanding vocalists are the mimids and, sure enough, the Northern Mockingbird and Gray Catbird were in there this morning. Some biologists call the Brown Thrasher, our third local mimid, the world's greatest singer -- not so much for sheer beauty of sound but because this bird has the largest known repertoire of songs; Thrashers habitually sing each song twice in a row but they can go on for hours at a time without repeating themselves any further. There were two Thrashers back of the house this morning; one of them was singing from the highest tree top while the other foraged, as thrashers are wont to do, in the leaf litter on the ground. I know for sure that one was a male; perhaps the other was his mate. Occasionally the male would drop down to the ground and join his associate in the hunt for something to eat before climbing back up to his song perch.
Of all the singers you can hear on the East End, two of the most attractive for both looks and tonal quality are the Rose-breasted Grosbeak and the Orchard Oriole. Neither one is all that common in these parts but both were singing away this morning. Their songs are actually quite similar: both short and quite melodic. The Grosbeak has the purer tone; the Oriole song usually mixes in some throatier tones. Unlike our warblers (which don't warble), these are warbley songs par excellence. The Oriole, which has been on the increase in recent years, has nested around here in the past and might do so again. Maybe the Grosbeak will too; I'm keeping an eye out for a female.
Eric Salzman
Some of our best songsters were in the mix this morning. Alas, no thrushes but both Carolina and House Wrens were there. Thrushes and wrens include some of the world's best singers; our local representatives of those tribes are perhaps more distinguished by persistence than by sheer beauty of sound. Another group of outstanding vocalists are the mimids and, sure enough, the Northern Mockingbird and Gray Catbird were in there this morning. Some biologists call the Brown Thrasher, our third local mimid, the world's greatest singer -- not so much for sheer beauty of sound but because this bird has the largest known repertoire of songs; Thrashers habitually sing each song twice in a row but they can go on for hours at a time without repeating themselves any further. There were two Thrashers back of the house this morning; one of them was singing from the highest tree top while the other foraged, as thrashers are wont to do, in the leaf litter on the ground. I know for sure that one was a male; perhaps the other was his mate. Occasionally the male would drop down to the ground and join his associate in the hunt for something to eat before climbing back up to his song perch.
Of all the singers you can hear on the East End, two of the most attractive for both looks and tonal quality are the Rose-breasted Grosbeak and the Orchard Oriole. Neither one is all that common in these parts but both were singing away this morning. Their songs are actually quite similar: both short and quite melodic. The Grosbeak has the purer tone; the Oriole song usually mixes in some throatier tones. Unlike our warblers (which don't warble), these are warbley songs par excellence. The Oriole, which has been on the increase in recent years, has nested around here in the past and might do so again. Maybe the Grosbeak will too; I'm keeping an eye out for a female.
Eric Salzman
Sunday, May 1, 2011
first days in East Quogue
We arrived in East Quogue on Friday, April 29th, only to discover that Verizon had failed to transfer their DSL to our East Quogue address -- this in spite of the fact that they had assured us everything was taken care of and even given us a Confirmation number. To add insult to injury, we are now being told that we will have to wait many days for the installation. I will get these blog notices out as fast as I can but they may be a little late in arriving!
The season here seems more advanced that it has at a comparable time in past years. The Forsythia and Saucer Magnolia are in full bloom in local gardens along with Norway Maple, Perwinkle and Shadbush on our place. Even our ancient backyard apple tree is in full leaf and has a large complement of emerging flower buds. And the Red Maples are not far behind.
Along with these encouraging signs in the vegetable kingdom, the animal kingdom is not far behind. The deer are active and there are insects about, notably bees. All the common local birds -- Robin, Cardinal, Mourning Dove, Carolina Wren, Song Sparrow, Goldfinch, Northern Mockingbird, Red-winged Blackbird, Common Grackle -- are in full song (if you can include the Grackle's squeaks in the category of 'song'). Also prominent and audible: Downy Woodpecker, Red-bellied Woodpecker, House Wren, Gray Catbird, Tufted Titmouse, Black-capped Chickadee, American Crow, Blue Jay, Eastern Towhee, and Baltimore Oriole.
Some of these birds have been around all winter but some of them -- notably the Catbird, Towhee and Oriole -- are recent arrivals from the south. There are still numbers of White-throated Sparrows around and I saw a single Red-breasted Nuthatch; both these species will almost certainly leave in the next week or two.
Also seen: a few Purple Martins (the martin houses are back up) and a Barn Swallow or two. Down at our pond and on Weesuck Creek: a Great Egret or two (a local breeder), a noisy Greater Yellowlegs (which won't stay and breed) and noisy Willets (which will stay and breed). A single Osprey was seen (could there be another one already sitting on the nest?). And, along with a few gulls (seemingly all Herring), there were a couple of Double-crested Cormorants hanging around the boatyard, looking sleek in their shiny new breeding plumage complete with, yes, the double-crest that gives them their name but is usually not noticeable at any other season. Cormorants must breed somewhere in our area... but where?
Warblers? Alas, only Yellow-rumps but looking stunning in their fancy breeding plumage.
Eric Salzman
The season here seems more advanced that it has at a comparable time in past years. The Forsythia and Saucer Magnolia are in full bloom in local gardens along with Norway Maple, Perwinkle and Shadbush on our place. Even our ancient backyard apple tree is in full leaf and has a large complement of emerging flower buds. And the Red Maples are not far behind.
Along with these encouraging signs in the vegetable kingdom, the animal kingdom is not far behind. The deer are active and there are insects about, notably bees. All the common local birds -- Robin, Cardinal, Mourning Dove, Carolina Wren, Song Sparrow, Goldfinch, Northern Mockingbird, Red-winged Blackbird, Common Grackle -- are in full song (if you can include the Grackle's squeaks in the category of 'song'). Also prominent and audible: Downy Woodpecker, Red-bellied Woodpecker, House Wren, Gray Catbird, Tufted Titmouse, Black-capped Chickadee, American Crow, Blue Jay, Eastern Towhee, and Baltimore Oriole.
Some of these birds have been around all winter but some of them -- notably the Catbird, Towhee and Oriole -- are recent arrivals from the south. There are still numbers of White-throated Sparrows around and I saw a single Red-breasted Nuthatch; both these species will almost certainly leave in the next week or two.
Also seen: a few Purple Martins (the martin houses are back up) and a Barn Swallow or two. Down at our pond and on Weesuck Creek: a Great Egret or two (a local breeder), a noisy Greater Yellowlegs (which won't stay and breed) and noisy Willets (which will stay and breed). A single Osprey was seen (could there be another one already sitting on the nest?). And, along with a few gulls (seemingly all Herring), there were a couple of Double-crested Cormorants hanging around the boatyard, looking sleek in their shiny new breeding plumage complete with, yes, the double-crest that gives them their name but is usually not noticeable at any other season. Cormorants must breed somewhere in our area... but where?
Warblers? Alas, only Yellow-rumps but looking stunning in their fancy breeding plumage.
Eric Salzman
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