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