There were many reports of tropical and pelagic birds in the New York area on Sunday and the Weesuck Creek Bridled Tern was not the only one of its species to have gotten caught up by Irene. Hurricanes have a history of bringing tropical birds to Long Island and a visit to the shore on The Day After seemed warranted. Since access to Dune Road -- the Shinnecock-to-Moriches Dune Road at any rate -- was still being blocked yesterday morning, we headed out to Flying Point Road and Mecox Bay. When the cut at Mecox is open, sand flats appear and so do the water birds which, in spite of the human use of the area, find a spot to hang out.
There, by the side of the bay, was Doug Futuyma, scanning the waters with his scope looking for a reported Black-capped Petrel. Doug is one of the country's leading evolutionary biologists but he is also a passionate birder. The four of us -- Doug, Eileen Schwinn, Lorna and Eric Salzman -- headed to the Mecox cut which was, in fact, open and we set up our scopes overlooking a bird-covered sand flat. This flat, traditionally one of the best shore birding spots on Eastern Long Island, sported no less than seven species of terns including three Sandwich Terns (a southern tern that turns up -- pardon the pun -- regularly after storms), two Caspian Terns (an adult and a young one; this is THE spot for this species), numbers of Royal and Common Terns, a few Forster's and Least Terns and quite a few Black Terns. The prevalence of Black Terns must be due to the storm; these birds normally move off-shore and it takes a storm to drive them to coast in any numbers. A surprise visitor was a calling Whimbrel who flew in, landed on the sand spit, proceeded to explore the dry areas and then waded out into the water for a bit before taking off. Other birds frequenting the flat were Black Skimmers, three or four species of gulls, many Sanderlings, Ruddy Turnstones, one or two dowitchers, some unidentified shorebirds and a Western Willet which had us puzzled for a while. Overhead, there was a light but steady movement of swallows -- Tree, Barn and Bank -- and four or five Osprey were constantly in the air above us during the entire time.
Eric Salzman
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Irene brings us tropical weather and a tropical bird
We were without power or phone or internet for two days. Phone service came back last night, electricity at 4:30 am this morning. Without electricity, we had no running water (we have an electric pump and, since a new well and pump were installed about 10 years ago, our old hand pump is no longer connected). However we had filled every available container in the house from bottles to bathtubs with water. And we also had candles (and matches) at the ready.
The storm hit Sunday morning before dawn and, although there was a fairly big storm surge, the water never reached the house. And there was no wind damage on or around the house although the place was strewn with broken branches, leaves and hickory nuts. An account of the storm -- written as events were still proceeding and the battery on my laptop was still holding out -- is included below.
By Sunday afternoon, as the storm moved off, there were birds active on Weesuck Creek, seen from the edge of the pond, from our neighbor's (damaged) dock near the mouth of the pond, from the end of Weesuck Avenue and from Aldrich Boat Yard. There were several Royal Terns, at least one Black Skimmer and a pod of a half a dozen or more Black Terns, all in winter plumage. These last-named, uncommon on the creek and rarely seen so close, were circling and picking food off the surface of the water right off shore, giving superb views. Sometimes they would soar up high, showing their distinctive silhouette with a squarish tail. These birds were dark on the back ranging from black to dark gray; a few, probably young birds, had dark brown or reddish brown tints in the mantle plumage. The white underparts as well as white facial and neck markings made a striking contrast to the dark mantle, black bill, cap and ear patch.
At one point, I noticed that one of the birds, although similar in many ways (acting in a similar manner, picking food off the surface), was in fact quite different. The bird was bigger with a longer black bill, less contrast on the head (a fairly thick black line seemed to extend the black of the bill right through the eye but there was only a light grayish cap on a white head), and, most striking of all, a deeply forked tail with white on it. I followed this bird as it made wider and wider arcs from one side of the creek to the other. Eventually it landed on a piece of floating debris where I could get a good view of it perched. This sleek, storm-blown bird was one of the tropical terns: a BRIDLED TERN, Sterna anaethetus, carried in from the Gulf Stream by Irene to provide a remarkable record for Weesuck Creek! I am no expert on Bridled Tern plumages but I would guess that this was a subadult bird part way into full adult plumage. It was #237 on my Birds of Weesuck Creek list (birds from the property, from the creek itself and adjacent areas).
Here are my notes from Sunday morning:
"I woke up this morning at c. 7 am to the sound of wind and rain -- a serenade that heralded the arrival of Hurricane Irene. Stormy as things were, the electricity was still functioning and I was able to make some breakfast and sit myself on the porch to watch the progress of the storm. At 8:12 we lost electricity and the sight of water creeping up the path from the pond toward the house began to become a matter of some concern. The bay was looking like the ocean with substantial waves breaking just off the rapidly disappearing shore line and then running unopposed across the marsh and even into the woods. As high tide approached, marsh, pond and creek all overflowed. This was not a flood from rain but a storm surge from the bay abetted by the continuous, punishing winds from the southwest helping to push the water up and over. Incredibly enough, these waves began rolling into the woods creating a surf line at the base of the trees and rolling ever further inland. Only the presence of a slightly higher narrow berm of high ground INSIDE the woods seem to prevent the water from crossing over to the higher open ground in front of the house! [Editor's note: the narrow berm of high ground was nothing but the line of debris dumped by the water.]
There is a large piece of blue styrofoam, formerly sitting on the path in the marsh, but now carried in to a point where it is blocked by a tree well inland. An old dock spinning by in the swollen creek waters was perhaps the same old dock that sat in the middle of the marsh and which I have used as a look-out post for the past two or three years!
The storm surge had another surprising effect. It pushed local ground water -- which is very near the surface here -- back and up so that our old right-of-way and more than one basement on Randall Lane was flooded, not with salt water, but with water from the upper aquifer. Our house is on a kind of sandy dome which is high enough, far-back enough and porous enough that it does not floods. But the land just to the southwest slopes down to an old creek bed which used to run from above Montauk Highway and which still forms (via the underground aquifer) the source of our marsh. Most of the old creek bed proper is covered in dense vegetation but the land on either side of it forms a kind of bowl through which rainwater runs and which can fill up either from heavy rains or from water back-up in case of storm surge. The pressure of the salt water storm tide literally pushes the upper water table back and up.
By 9:30, the tide began to run out and by 10:30, the surf was no longer crashing over the marsh and through the woods. All the water -- the puddles on Randall Lane, the water on our old right-of-way, even the flooded basement water in the Randall Lane houses -- began to recede. No big trees or even large limbs seem to have fallen and, although the winds continue to blow, the rain has stopped. Still no electricity either in the house system or from this battery which is running down and will shortly shut down the computer."
Eric Salzman
The storm hit Sunday morning before dawn and, although there was a fairly big storm surge, the water never reached the house. And there was no wind damage on or around the house although the place was strewn with broken branches, leaves and hickory nuts. An account of the storm -- written as events were still proceeding and the battery on my laptop was still holding out -- is included below.
By Sunday afternoon, as the storm moved off, there were birds active on Weesuck Creek, seen from the edge of the pond, from our neighbor's (damaged) dock near the mouth of the pond, from the end of Weesuck Avenue and from Aldrich Boat Yard. There were several Royal Terns, at least one Black Skimmer and a pod of a half a dozen or more Black Terns, all in winter plumage. These last-named, uncommon on the creek and rarely seen so close, were circling and picking food off the surface of the water right off shore, giving superb views. Sometimes they would soar up high, showing their distinctive silhouette with a squarish tail. These birds were dark on the back ranging from black to dark gray; a few, probably young birds, had dark brown or reddish brown tints in the mantle plumage. The white underparts as well as white facial and neck markings made a striking contrast to the dark mantle, black bill, cap and ear patch.
At one point, I noticed that one of the birds, although similar in many ways (acting in a similar manner, picking food off the surface), was in fact quite different. The bird was bigger with a longer black bill, less contrast on the head (a fairly thick black line seemed to extend the black of the bill right through the eye but there was only a light grayish cap on a white head), and, most striking of all, a deeply forked tail with white on it. I followed this bird as it made wider and wider arcs from one side of the creek to the other. Eventually it landed on a piece of floating debris where I could get a good view of it perched. This sleek, storm-blown bird was one of the tropical terns: a BRIDLED TERN, Sterna anaethetus, carried in from the Gulf Stream by Irene to provide a remarkable record for Weesuck Creek! I am no expert on Bridled Tern plumages but I would guess that this was a subadult bird part way into full adult plumage. It was #237 on my Birds of Weesuck Creek list (birds from the property, from the creek itself and adjacent areas).
Here are my notes from Sunday morning:
"I woke up this morning at c. 7 am to the sound of wind and rain -- a serenade that heralded the arrival of Hurricane Irene. Stormy as things were, the electricity was still functioning and I was able to make some breakfast and sit myself on the porch to watch the progress of the storm. At 8:12 we lost electricity and the sight of water creeping up the path from the pond toward the house began to become a matter of some concern. The bay was looking like the ocean with substantial waves breaking just off the rapidly disappearing shore line and then running unopposed across the marsh and even into the woods. As high tide approached, marsh, pond and creek all overflowed. This was not a flood from rain but a storm surge from the bay abetted by the continuous, punishing winds from the southwest helping to push the water up and over. Incredibly enough, these waves began rolling into the woods creating a surf line at the base of the trees and rolling ever further inland. Only the presence of a slightly higher narrow berm of high ground INSIDE the woods seem to prevent the water from crossing over to the higher open ground in front of the house! [Editor's note: the narrow berm of high ground was nothing but the line of debris dumped by the water.]
There is a large piece of blue styrofoam, formerly sitting on the path in the marsh, but now carried in to a point where it is blocked by a tree well inland. An old dock spinning by in the swollen creek waters was perhaps the same old dock that sat in the middle of the marsh and which I have used as a look-out post for the past two or three years!
The storm surge had another surprising effect. It pushed local ground water -- which is very near the surface here -- back and up so that our old right-of-way and more than one basement on Randall Lane was flooded, not with salt water, but with water from the upper aquifer. Our house is on a kind of sandy dome which is high enough, far-back enough and porous enough that it does not floods. But the land just to the southwest slopes down to an old creek bed which used to run from above Montauk Highway and which still forms (via the underground aquifer) the source of our marsh. Most of the old creek bed proper is covered in dense vegetation but the land on either side of it forms a kind of bowl through which rainwater runs and which can fill up either from heavy rains or from water back-up in case of storm surge. The pressure of the salt water storm tide literally pushes the upper water table back and up.
By 9:30, the tide began to run out and by 10:30, the surf was no longer crashing over the marsh and through the woods. All the water -- the puddles on Randall Lane, the water on our old right-of-way, even the flooded basement water in the Randall Lane houses -- began to recede. No big trees or even large limbs seem to have fallen and, although the winds continue to blow, the rain has stopped. Still no electricity either in the house system or from this battery which is running down and will shortly shut down the computer."
Eric Salzman
Saturday, August 27, 2011
Tupelo berries and a Short-tailed Shrew
After a bit of rain and wind Thursday night, yesterday morning was dead calm and blue-sky sunny with a hot sun and a fair amount of humidity. The calm before the storm? Most of the birds were in the Tupelo grove at the head of the marsh, taking care to stoke up while good weather prevails. There is an extraordinary symbiosis between the trees and the birds. The trees 'need' the birds to distribute their seeds so they 'offer' the birds a bounty of berries. In order to signal that the berries are getting ripe, a certain percentage of the Tupelo leaves turn bright red, well in advance of the time when the other trees start to turn. The birds recognize this signal and come in to gorge themselves -- a beautiful example of what is sometimes called 'co-evolution'. Catbirds, Robins and Cedar Waxwings are in the lead with both old and young birds at the table. Other birds in the trees possibly feeding on the harvest as well were Downy and Red-bellied Woodpeckers, Blue-gray Gnatcatcher, Starling, Black-capped Chickadee, Common Yellowthroat and American Goldfinch (two handsome males moving together in a strikingly non-competitive way). In the skies above were a couple of Chimney Swifts and Purple Martins. In the area (but not eating berries) were the usual blackbirds (Grackles and Red-wings) and corvids (Blue Jays and Crows), at least one Ruby-throated Hummingbird, a calling Northern Flicker and at least two Northern Waterthrushes, one chasing the other.
Thursday evening, a Short-tailed Shrew appeared by the entrance to the cottage that faces the driveway. This creature, immediately identifiable by its absurdly short, spikey tail, was spotted by my daughter Stephanie who recognized that it was not a rodent. We often find dead shrews but rarely see a live specimen as they tend to burrow beneath the leaves and perhaps even under the surface. These animals are reputed to have a poor sense of smell (which seems odd in view of their pointy snout) and, like their cousins, the moles, they are also said to have poor hearing and poor eyesight. This brings up the question of how they find food! But find it they do; they are reputed to be among the most common of wild animals. Shrews have the reputation of being hyperactive and this one fit the mold as it dashed up and back, under and around the little ramp leading to the door of the cottage. Shrews are not rodents. They used to be put in a category known as Insectivora, a classification that has now been abandoned as its members have been split up between several families. Our local species would be the Northern Short-tailed Shrew, Blarina brevicauda, recently split from its southern sister species.
This morning was calm and overcast, the air thick with humidity, the sound of distant surf and the hint of the huge lurking storm to come. Overhead a shorebird -- almost certainly a Lesser Yellowlegs -- came scooting across the lowering sky, its single 'tew' note call seeming to sound a storm warning. There was a Redstart working the trees at the edge of the marsh and a few Royal Terns calling out in the creek. A family of Carolina Wrens was busy in the interior underbrush and two or three Baltimore Orioles were calling from the tree tops. An ordinary morning but with the serious overlay of threat in the sullen atmosphere.
Eric Salzman
Thursday evening, a Short-tailed Shrew appeared by the entrance to the cottage that faces the driveway. This creature, immediately identifiable by its absurdly short, spikey tail, was spotted by my daughter Stephanie who recognized that it was not a rodent. We often find dead shrews but rarely see a live specimen as they tend to burrow beneath the leaves and perhaps even under the surface. These animals are reputed to have a poor sense of smell (which seems odd in view of their pointy snout) and, like their cousins, the moles, they are also said to have poor hearing and poor eyesight. This brings up the question of how they find food! But find it they do; they are reputed to be among the most common of wild animals. Shrews have the reputation of being hyperactive and this one fit the mold as it dashed up and back, under and around the little ramp leading to the door of the cottage. Shrews are not rodents. They used to be put in a category known as Insectivora, a classification that has now been abandoned as its members have been split up between several families. Our local species would be the Northern Short-tailed Shrew, Blarina brevicauda, recently split from its southern sister species.
This morning was calm and overcast, the air thick with humidity, the sound of distant surf and the hint of the huge lurking storm to come. Overhead a shorebird -- almost certainly a Lesser Yellowlegs -- came scooting across the lowering sky, its single 'tew' note call seeming to sound a storm warning. There was a Redstart working the trees at the edge of the marsh and a few Royal Terns calling out in the creek. A family of Carolina Wrens was busy in the interior underbrush and two or three Baltimore Orioles were calling from the tree tops. An ordinary morning but with the serious overlay of threat in the sullen atmosphere.
Eric Salzman
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Evening Primroses in the morning
This morning dawned clear, humid, dry, dewless, blue sky (a haze of clouds gradually appeared) with on-shore winds from the south (carrying the sound of surf) but otherwise very quiet and not very birdy. Where were the birds? Everyone seemed to be lying low as if in anticipation of the coming storms. If there's a hurricane in the offing, it still seems very far away but there is a rather ominous tropical aura about the weather; something, it seems, is about to happen. Although the swallows and martins continued to be conspicuous by their absence, there were herons (two Great Blues, a Green on the dead cedar by the pond and at least one Great Egret). Both the Spotted Sandpiper and Northern Waterthrush reappeared and there were Brown Thrashers in the woods and a few Gray Catbirds here and there. A few calls from the Jays and Crows. An occasional cicada trying to get its motor started. But mostly the background was only the sound of the wind in the trees.
In yesterday's post, I forgot to mention that Rocky Raccoon -- actually Rocky Jr. -- was back on his formerly favorite sleeping post in the crotch of a big old Pitch Pine. In fact, he wasn't sleeping at all but doing his toilette and eyeing me a mite suspiciously. No sign of him this morning.
Above is one of my point-and-shoot photos, this one of Evening Primroses. I managed to save a number of these plants from one of our rare attempts at 'mowing the lawn' and now I am rewarded with a burst of yellow blossoms. The yellow is much more intense than it shows in the picture. In spite of the name, the peak of flowering is not in the evening but early in the morning although I imagine that the yellow color is designed to attract moths. Not long ago, I watched a Ruby-throated Hummingbird feeding on these flowers which stay quite bright until late in the morning when the full sun hits them.
Eric Salzman
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
What's not there
Sometimes what's not there is more notable than what turns up!
No swallows or martins this morning. It was beautiful weather for migration and a number of species seem to have taken advantage of this by leaving us. There were no egrets or herons, no Spotted Sandpiper or Northern Waterthrush (staples of the past few weeks) and just one lone Royal to represent the terns.
On the other hand, there was a pod of Common Yellowthroats in the 'migration trap', just back of the pond, along with a Carolina Wren (Carolina Wrens are not big migrants but, like many resident birds, they do move around a bit; our local breeders rarely turn up in the migration trap). There continue to be many Gray Catbirds with the largest numbers feeding on the ripening berries in the Tupelo grove at the head of the marsh along with B-c Chickadees and a few Robins and Starlings. Also still in evidence: a female-type Ruby-throated Hummingbird, an Eastern Kingbird, a Brown Thrasher, a Prairie Warbler and both male and female Belted Kingfishers.
Eric Salzman
No swallows or martins this morning. It was beautiful weather for migration and a number of species seem to have taken advantage of this by leaving us. There were no egrets or herons, no Spotted Sandpiper or Northern Waterthrush (staples of the past few weeks) and just one lone Royal to represent the terns.
On the other hand, there was a pod of Common Yellowthroats in the 'migration trap', just back of the pond, along with a Carolina Wren (Carolina Wrens are not big migrants but, like many resident birds, they do move around a bit; our local breeders rarely turn up in the migration trap). There continue to be many Gray Catbirds with the largest numbers feeding on the ripening berries in the Tupelo grove at the head of the marsh along with B-c Chickadees and a few Robins and Starlings. Also still in evidence: a female-type Ruby-throated Hummingbird, an Eastern Kingbird, a Brown Thrasher, a Prairie Warbler and both male and female Belted Kingfishers.
Eric Salzman
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
this morning looked good . . .
Yesterday's change in weather suggested that there might be a movement of migrants last night but, in our corner of the world at least, it didn't really materialize. The big show this morning was a swallow spectacle -- mostly Barn but with a couple of Trees and at least one Bank mixed in. They were all over the marsh and there were some spectacular aerial acrobatics but it lasted only for the first hour or so of the morning. Afterwards most of the swallows disappeared (although they were followed by numbers of Purple Martins flying quite high).
As for other migrants, the most notable arrival was a large, greenish/olive Empid with a fairly strong eye ring and wing bars, most probably an Acadian Flycatcher. It was in very fresh plumage which reinforces the Acadian ID (Acadians molt into fresh plumage on the breeding grounds -- which most other Empids do not -- so they arrive here looking quite spiffy).
Afterwards I went back out with Eileen Schwinn (she came by with the same thought about the change in weather) and we found a few more migrants: Ruby-throated Hummingbird, Blue-Gray Gnatcatcher, Black-and-white Warbler, Also two young Baltimore Orioles working the tree tops, Common Yellowthroats working the shrubs and a few Royal Terns working the creek. A large raptor reappeared, this time discovered by the Crows who put up a huge racket. Unfortunately, the object of their loud vituperations and maledictions disappeared through the trees before I could get a good look.
Eric Salzman
As for other migrants, the most notable arrival was a large, greenish/olive Empid with a fairly strong eye ring and wing bars, most probably an Acadian Flycatcher. It was in very fresh plumage which reinforces the Acadian ID (Acadians molt into fresh plumage on the breeding grounds -- which most other Empids do not -- so they arrive here looking quite spiffy).
Afterwards I went back out with Eileen Schwinn (she came by with the same thought about the change in weather) and we found a few more migrants: Ruby-throated Hummingbird, Blue-Gray Gnatcatcher, Black-and-white Warbler, Also two young Baltimore Orioles working the tree tops, Common Yellowthroats working the shrubs and a few Royal Terns working the creek. A large raptor reappeared, this time discovered by the Crows who put up a huge racket. Unfortunately, the object of their loud vituperations and maledictions disappeared through the trees before I could get a good look.
Eric Salzman
Monday, August 22, 2011
A big hawk and delicious death trumpets
The big excitement this morning was the huge racket from a troupe of Blue Jays who discovered a big hawk. The raptor, perched high inside the canopy, was a young Cooper's, probably a female judging by size; it was brown with a yellow eye, streaky on the breast and had a tail that was long, barred, rounded and white-tipped. It flew when I approached but the jays pursued it almost literally from one tree to the next until it finally left the premises.
There were a lot of Barn Swallows and a few Tree over the marsh this morning, a spin-off from the large swallow movements taking place along the beach. There were also at least two dozen Purple Martins in the air but whether these are the same birds from our colony or replacement migrants is impossible to tell (the swallows are probably new since the local Barn Swallows seem to have moved out a while back). The movements of the past few days have included the first Blue-wing Warbler of the season, a Black-and-white Warbler and an Eastern Towhee, all on Saturday. Yesterday there was a pair of Eastern Kingbirds -- at least one of them was a young bird -- also dueling with some local Blue Jays who, for some reasons, didn't like having them around. Northern Waterthrush, Common Yellowthroats and lots of Gray Catbirds have continued in the shrubs bordering the marsh. One of the Yellowthroats, a young male with a shining yellow breast, was developing his black mask and even attempting a sort of scratchy version of a yellowthroat song.
Although Royal Terns continue to frequent the creek, there is almost a complete absence of Common Terns. As we saw on Plum Island on Saturday, vast numbers of Common Terns, adults and young, have moved away from their breeding sites to concentrate at key feeding areas. On Plum Island, the young birds were mostly perched on large off-shore boulders while the adults were fishing in the Plum Gut (the channel that separates Plum Island from Orient Point), on the very visible line that separates Long Island Sound from Gardiners Bay or wherever the fish were running in the area. Adults with fish in their beaks would come in calling and make the run along the coast until they could find their offspring to feed. This is a major staging area (Montauk is another) for the terns before they commence their stupendous migrations south to South America.
There was a burst of Evening Primrose blossoms and Black Trumpets appeared for the first time this season along with the continuing emergence of Chanterelles. Black Trumpets also carry the ominous French name of Trompette de la Mort (or Trompette des morts) but in spite of that scary-sounding moniker, they are one of the best edible mushroom, related to the chanterelles and often growing the same places.
Eric Salzman
There were a lot of Barn Swallows and a few Tree over the marsh this morning, a spin-off from the large swallow movements taking place along the beach. There were also at least two dozen Purple Martins in the air but whether these are the same birds from our colony or replacement migrants is impossible to tell (the swallows are probably new since the local Barn Swallows seem to have moved out a while back). The movements of the past few days have included the first Blue-wing Warbler of the season, a Black-and-white Warbler and an Eastern Towhee, all on Saturday. Yesterday there was a pair of Eastern Kingbirds -- at least one of them was a young bird -- also dueling with some local Blue Jays who, for some reasons, didn't like having them around. Northern Waterthrush, Common Yellowthroats and lots of Gray Catbirds have continued in the shrubs bordering the marsh. One of the Yellowthroats, a young male with a shining yellow breast, was developing his black mask and even attempting a sort of scratchy version of a yellowthroat song.
Although Royal Terns continue to frequent the creek, there is almost a complete absence of Common Terns. As we saw on Plum Island on Saturday, vast numbers of Common Terns, adults and young, have moved away from their breeding sites to concentrate at key feeding areas. On Plum Island, the young birds were mostly perched on large off-shore boulders while the adults were fishing in the Plum Gut (the channel that separates Plum Island from Orient Point), on the very visible line that separates Long Island Sound from Gardiners Bay or wherever the fish were running in the area. Adults with fish in their beaks would come in calling and make the run along the coast until they could find their offspring to feed. This is a major staging area (Montauk is another) for the terns before they commence their stupendous migrations south to South America.
There was a burst of Evening Primrose blossoms and Black Trumpets appeared for the first time this season along with the continuing emergence of Chanterelles. Black Trumpets also carry the ominous French name of Trompette de la Mort (or Trompette des morts) but in spite of that scary-sounding moniker, they are one of the best edible mushroom, related to the chanterelles and often growing the same places.
Eric Salzman
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Plum Island 2
Here's a couple of addenda to my Saturday Plum Island post.
First of all, I confused the name of the old fort on the island; as Joe Polashock points out, it is Fort Terry, not Fort Tyler (Fort Tyler, now a ruin out in the water, is off Gardiners Island).
Secondly, there were a few things that I neglected to mention in the report on our visit. One was the probable presence of storm-petrels (they were a little too far off-shore in the Sound between Plum and Great Gull to identify with complete certainty but their silhouettes and behavior made a pretty good case). And the entire island (and, in particular, the slightly elevated areas just back of the shore-lines) were an amazing flower garden dominated by native species (although there are plenty of introduced species as well). These floral displays were frequented by a notable number of Monarch Butterflies and at least one Ruby-throated Hummingbird.
Finally, Mike Bottini and Michael Sperling point out that organized efforts to save Plum Island are well underway. There is a Preserve Plum Island web site and Huntington Audubon also has a page devoted to the subject . Both sites have more information about the island and links to a petition which I urge everyone to sign.
For a slide show on the Plum Island visit by Sally Newbert (the only person with permission to take photographs) you can go to http://www.kodakgallery.com/gallery/creativeapps/slideShow/Main.jsp?sourceId=533754321803&cm_mmc=Share-_-Personal-_-Email-_-Sharee-_-Top&_requestid=45082
Eric Salzman
First of all, I confused the name of the old fort on the island; as Joe Polashock points out, it is Fort Terry, not Fort Tyler (Fort Tyler, now a ruin out in the water, is off Gardiners Island).
Secondly, there were a few things that I neglected to mention in the report on our visit. One was the probable presence of storm-petrels (they were a little too far off-shore in the Sound between Plum and Great Gull to identify with complete certainty but their silhouettes and behavior made a pretty good case). And the entire island (and, in particular, the slightly elevated areas just back of the shore-lines) were an amazing flower garden dominated by native species (although there are plenty of introduced species as well). These floral displays were frequented by a notable number of Monarch Butterflies and at least one Ruby-throated Hummingbird.
Finally, Mike Bottini and Michael Sperling point out that organized efforts to save Plum Island are well underway. There is a Preserve Plum Island web site
For a slide show on the Plum Island visit by Sally Newbert (the only person with permission to take photographs) you can go to http://www.kodakgallery.com/gallery/creativeapps/slideShow/Main.jsp?sourceId=533754321803&cm_mmc=Share-_-Personal-_-Email-_-Sharee-_-Top&_requestid=45082
Eric Salzman
Friday, August 19, 2011
Plum Island
Plum Island is undoubtedly the most mysterious location on Long Island and, as the home of the U.S. Animal Disease Laboratory, it certainly has the scariest reputation. This piece of glacial moraine, just off the tip of Orient Point, is one of a series of islands and promontories in the region that were formerly the site of elaborate coastal fortifications and defenses meant to protect us from enemy attack by sea. Since the Animal Disease Center was established there in 1954, the island has become the subject of many controversies and conspiracy theories, mostly having to do with germ warfare. In recent years, the Department of Homeland Security, which has taken possession of the facility and the island, has instituted a program of community outreach permitting visitors to tour the facility and the island under highly controlled circumstances. The laudable aim is to defuse the atmosphere of mystery and fear surrounding this place. The tour for birders which took place this morning was part of that effort.
The first part of the visit consisted of a talk by the lab's director and a visit to one of the lab facilities. Not bird-watching heaven although somewhat reassuring about the scientific and medical aims of the facility. At 11 am, the indoor part of the tour ended with a visit to a coastal area just back of the main lab building where a rehabilitated Osprey -- a young bird that had been injured -- was being released. With this release successfully accomplished, a brief tour of the island's habitats gave us a relatively short snapshot of its bird life and natural history.
First the mammal highlight. Although ordinary land mammals are not welcome on Plum Island, the island has become known as a major hauling-out place for seals. It would be no surprise to see seals here in the winter but it was a treat to see them in the summer. Several large-headed animals were seen from the shore, all them apparently Gray Seals, an creature that was, not very long ago, considered scarce even in the northern latitudes that are the center of its distribution.
Another northerner that was seen several times around the edges of the island was Common Eider. Again this is a creature that one would expect to see in the winter but the presence of these birds here in the summer suggests that they may be breeding on the island (they have bred, if I am not mistaken, on nearby Fisher's Island). This is a remarkable exception to the rule that climate change is pushing southern birds north. This is a northerner that is expanding to the south and Plum Island may be Exhibit B.
Two young Turkey Vultures, perched on the roof of one of the abandoned buildings of the old Fort Tyler, also suggest that these birds may have birthed on the island. The first documented breeding on Long Island was in an abandoned fortification in Camp Hero in Montauk in a very similar kind of habitat.
Perhaps the most spectacular avian sights on the island were the agglomerations of terns and swallows. Terns were everywhere -- fishing in the straits on the side of the island, perched on the adjacent jetties and rocks with myriad young birds calling to be fed by their parents. Most of these birds were Common Terns -- numbering in the thousands -- but there were a few Roseates, Forster's and Black Terns mixed in. I'm not sure if any of these terns actually bred on Plum Island but it should be pointed out that Great Gull Island, the next island over and also a former military establishment, is home to one of the largest tern colonies in the world (dominated by Common Terns but also including considerable numbers of the much rarer Roseate Terns).
The island was also playing host to thousands of Tree Swallows as well as smaller number of Barn Swallows, moving through in their annual migration. The swarms of Tree Swallows, each flock containing hundreds of birds, filled the air over the natural island greenery, presumably hunting insects, and occasionally landing to perch side-by-side on long stretches of wire. The migration of the Tree Swallows is one of Long Island's great bird spectacles and the Plum Island gatherings precede their continuing flight though coastal Long Island.
There were small numbers of shore birds seen (including a possible Hudsonian Godwit in flight -- seen by me but no one else) and a Belted Kingfisher. In the raptor department, there was a Red-tailed Hawk, a Northern Harrier and of course, many Osprey. A gray-backed accipiter was briefly seen by two or three people in the group who ID'd it as a possible Goshawk (although all male accipiters are gray-backed). A fair number of familiar passerines were seen in both the densely vegetated and more open areas including Willow Flycatcher, Eastern Kingbird and an American Redstart.
Since it has been announced that the Animal Disease Laboratory will move to Manhattan, Kansas, it looks like Plum Island may soon be on the block. Environmentalists and others would like to see it preserved from development. Along with Great Gull Island (currently owned by the American Museum of Natural History) and Gardiners Island (if it ever comes on the market), Plum Island could serve as the nucleus of a superb East End Islands National Park.
Eric Salzman
The first part of the visit consisted of a talk by the lab's director and a visit to one of the lab facilities. Not bird-watching heaven although somewhat reassuring about the scientific and medical aims of the facility. At 11 am, the indoor part of the tour ended with a visit to a coastal area just back of the main lab building where a rehabilitated Osprey -- a young bird that had been injured -- was being released. With this release successfully accomplished, a brief tour of the island's habitats gave us a relatively short snapshot of its bird life and natural history.
First the mammal highlight. Although ordinary land mammals are not welcome on Plum Island, the island has become known as a major hauling-out place for seals. It would be no surprise to see seals here in the winter but it was a treat to see them in the summer. Several large-headed animals were seen from the shore, all them apparently Gray Seals, an creature that was, not very long ago, considered scarce even in the northern latitudes that are the center of its distribution.
Another northerner that was seen several times around the edges of the island was Common Eider. Again this is a creature that one would expect to see in the winter but the presence of these birds here in the summer suggests that they may be breeding on the island (they have bred, if I am not mistaken, on nearby Fisher's Island). This is a remarkable exception to the rule that climate change is pushing southern birds north. This is a northerner that is expanding to the south and Plum Island may be Exhibit B.
Two young Turkey Vultures, perched on the roof of one of the abandoned buildings of the old Fort Tyler, also suggest that these birds may have birthed on the island. The first documented breeding on Long Island was in an abandoned fortification in Camp Hero in Montauk in a very similar kind of habitat.
Perhaps the most spectacular avian sights on the island were the agglomerations of terns and swallows. Terns were everywhere -- fishing in the straits on the side of the island, perched on the adjacent jetties and rocks with myriad young birds calling to be fed by their parents. Most of these birds were Common Terns -- numbering in the thousands -- but there were a few Roseates, Forster's and Black Terns mixed in. I'm not sure if any of these terns actually bred on Plum Island but it should be pointed out that Great Gull Island, the next island over and also a former military establishment, is home to one of the largest tern colonies in the world (dominated by Common Terns but also including considerable numbers of the much rarer Roseate Terns).
The island was also playing host to thousands of Tree Swallows as well as smaller number of Barn Swallows, moving through in their annual migration. The swarms of Tree Swallows, each flock containing hundreds of birds, filled the air over the natural island greenery, presumably hunting insects, and occasionally landing to perch side-by-side on long stretches of wire. The migration of the Tree Swallows is one of Long Island's great bird spectacles and the Plum Island gatherings precede their continuing flight though coastal Long Island.
There were small numbers of shore birds seen (including a possible Hudsonian Godwit in flight -- seen by me but no one else) and a Belted Kingfisher. In the raptor department, there was a Red-tailed Hawk, a Northern Harrier and of course, many Osprey. A gray-backed accipiter was briefly seen by two or three people in the group who ID'd it as a possible Goshawk (although all male accipiters are gray-backed). A fair number of familiar passerines were seen in both the densely vegetated and more open areas including Willow Flycatcher, Eastern Kingbird and an American Redstart.
Since it has been announced that the Animal Disease Laboratory will move to Manhattan, Kansas, it looks like Plum Island may soon be on the block. Environmentalists and others would like to see it preserved from development. Along with Great Gull Island (currently owned by the American Museum of Natural History) and Gardiners Island (if it ever comes on the market), Plum Island could serve as the nucleus of a superb East End Islands National Park.
Eric Salzman
Thursday, August 18, 2011
dew
If I understand the science correctly, there's a limit to how much moisture the air can hold and therefore also a limit on how much dew can be produced. But you'd never know it this morning. The air was saturated, the windows of the house were all fogged up and the vegetation -- beaten down by the rains earlier this week -- was dripping. And so was I after pushing through the edge-of-the-marsh path which was totally overgrown with water-logged bocage, mostly Ivo and Baccharis whose branches, heavy with HO2, hung over the path and tried to bar my way. As often as I clear this path, the new growth, bent down by the pounding rain and heavy dew, constantly pushes, tilts, angles and sinks right into the path of least resistance that I have created, brushing its load of water onto my arms, legs and back. I emerge totally soaked.
There were a few birds. There are just a handful of swallows and Purple Martins still in evidence. No new warblers but at one point I had two Northern Waterthrushes in my binoculars; it's unusual to see more than one at a time; I think they're a bit territorial even when not on their breeding grounds and I suspect (judging by the loud alarm calls) that there are a few others scattered around. They will probably continue to be here for a while before moving further south. The Tupelo trees at the head of the marsh are full of Catbirds eating the ripening berries and they were joined by a couple of American Robins, a Mockingbird and a young Red-bellied Woodpecker that must have been born and raised in the vicinity.
A striking Question Mark butterfly landed on the white sideboards of the cottage soaking up some rays and showing its unusual cut-out wing pattern (it belongs to a group of butterflies known as 'anglewings'). In spite of the rain, this has been a good butterfly year.
Eric Salzman
There were a few birds. There are just a handful of swallows and Purple Martins still in evidence. No new warblers but at one point I had two Northern Waterthrushes in my binoculars; it's unusual to see more than one at a time; I think they're a bit territorial even when not on their breeding grounds and I suspect (judging by the loud alarm calls) that there are a few others scattered around. They will probably continue to be here for a while before moving further south. The Tupelo trees at the head of the marsh are full of Catbirds eating the ripening berries and they were joined by a couple of American Robins, a Mockingbird and a young Red-bellied Woodpecker that must have been born and raised in the vicinity.
A striking Question Mark butterfly landed on the white sideboards of the cottage soaking up some rays and showing its unusual cut-out wing pattern (it belongs to a group of butterflies known as 'anglewings'). In spite of the rain, this has been a good butterfly year.
Eric Salzman
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
finally a dry morning
There are three (not two as I previously thought) young Green Herons frequenting the marsh these days. All three were perched in the half-dead Red Cedar near the path going up to the head of the marsh. These birds are not quite the same in age -- one has a full Mohawk fuzz on the top of its head, another has lost almost all its fuzz and the third is somewhere inbetween. It is not so uncommon for some of the larger, non-passerine birds to hatch their eggs in the order in which they are laid (rather than waiting for the full clutch to appear before starting to incubate). The age and size difference that results means that the older birds have a better chance to survive in bad years while the younger and smaller members of the brood will also make it in good years (a bit cruel for our sensibilities perhaps but apparently a sensible option for the birds). Nevertheless it's interesting to observe that the three young birds stick together (the adults were also around but not seemingly paying much attention to them). They hung in until I was almost underneath before taking off (one by one and not together).
There were also five Osprey on the creek this morning with four of the birds flying together around the tip of Pine Neck (the fifth was on the nest). Were there three Osprey young this year? Or was this morning's extra bird just passing through?
There were a few migrants in the wake of the rain storms of the past two days. A Ruby-throated Hummingbird was working the Evening Primrose blossoms this morning right outside the porch window (where I am writing these lines). A brownish Empidonax -- probably another Alder Flycatcher -- was moving along the screen of bushes at the marsh edge, pausing only long enough to let himself be (sort-of) identified. American Robins were on the move, flying in their usual fall pattern around here, from southeast to northwest. There were also many Gray Catbirds which, like some of the Robins, were feeding on the ripening Tupelo berries; many, if not most, of these were migrants as well.
The usual mid-summer visitors were also still present: male and female Belted Kingfishers (on top of the dead cedar by the post early in the morning and again in the afternoon), Spotted Sandpiper and Northern Waterthrush. Also Screech Owl whinnying and trilling away in the night.
Eric Salzman
There were also five Osprey on the creek this morning with four of the birds flying together around the tip of Pine Neck (the fifth was on the nest). Were there three Osprey young this year? Or was this morning's extra bird just passing through?
There were a few migrants in the wake of the rain storms of the past two days. A Ruby-throated Hummingbird was working the Evening Primrose blossoms this morning right outside the porch window (where I am writing these lines). A brownish Empidonax -- probably another Alder Flycatcher -- was moving along the screen of bushes at the marsh edge, pausing only long enough to let himself be (sort-of) identified. American Robins were on the move, flying in their usual fall pattern around here, from southeast to northwest. There were also many Gray Catbirds which, like some of the Robins, were feeding on the ripening Tupelo berries; many, if not most, of these were migrants as well.
The usual mid-summer visitors were also still present: male and female Belted Kingfishers (on top of the dead cedar by the post early in the morning and again in the afternoon), Spotted Sandpiper and Northern Waterthrush. Also Screech Owl whinnying and trilling away in the night.
Eric Salzman
Monday, August 15, 2011
before the rains and after
A few recent observations from both before and after the torrential rains:
A family group of four Cedar Waxwings landed in the Pitch Pine by the pond and I could see that at least two of them were in juvenile plumage -- recognizably waxwings with a crest and black around the eye but streaky on the breast. These birds are, like the Goldfinches, notably late breeders so these are likely youngsters that were born in the area.
There have been Royal Terns on the creek, an Eastern Kingbird on the far edge of the marsh, Northern Waterthrush, Common Yellowthroats (several), and the dependable Spotted Sandpiper -- a spotted adult both times -- on the edge of the pond at low tide. Although the local Osprey -- there are two adults and two flying young -- are active around the creek, an Osprey flying strongly at medium height across the creek, over the marsh and then over the trees, was probably a migrant. Great Crested Flycatcher still active in the woods, mostly heard at dusk. Several big uproars among the gulls on the creek are unexplained; when the gulls start yelping, the noise spreads quickly but I can never see what is causing it.
Eric Salzman
A family group of four Cedar Waxwings landed in the Pitch Pine by the pond and I could see that at least two of them were in juvenile plumage -- recognizably waxwings with a crest and black around the eye but streaky on the breast. These birds are, like the Goldfinches, notably late breeders so these are likely youngsters that were born in the area.
There have been Royal Terns on the creek, an Eastern Kingbird on the far edge of the marsh, Northern Waterthrush, Common Yellowthroats (several), and the dependable Spotted Sandpiper -- a spotted adult both times -- on the edge of the pond at low tide. Although the local Osprey -- there are two adults and two flying young -- are active around the creek, an Osprey flying strongly at medium height across the creek, over the marsh and then over the trees, was probably a migrant. Great Crested Flycatcher still active in the woods, mostly heard at dusk. Several big uproars among the gulls on the creek are unexplained; when the gulls start yelping, the noise spreads quickly but I can never see what is causing it.
Eric Salzman
Saturday, August 13, 2011
SOFO on the beach
This morning's South Fork Natural History (SOFO) walk started at Shinnecock Inlet and ended at the Pike's Beach overlook. The early morning was overcast, there was almost no wind and the Atlantic was flat as the proverbial pancake; later on, the sun pushed through and things got hot (temperature-wise at least).
Not surprisingly, off-shore birds were hard to come by, some distant, probably Gannets being the highlight (if one can call it that). There was a noticeable movement of Barn and Tree Swallows which continued well into the morning and several raptors -- two Northern Harriers, a Kestrel and at least one migrating Osprey -- were seen moving along the outer beach (like the swallows, the vanguard of a bigger migration to come).
Both marsh sparrows were seen: a number of Saltmarsh Sparrows at one bayman's pullout and several Seaside Sparrows with young at another; the latter was particularly welcome as these birds have been scarce this year. At least 30-40 Royal Terns were seen at the Pike's Beach overlook along with several Laughing Gulls, two Red Knots, a handsome breeding-plumaged Black-bellied Plover, several American Oystercatchers and some numbers of Short-billed Dowitchers, Sanderlings and Ruddy Turnstones. Common Terns were widespread but only a couple of Least Terns were seen; these birds are not doing well in our area. The most common shorebirds at almost every stop along the way were Least and Semipalmated Sandpipers.
The heron department was dominated by Great Egrets but there were a few Snowys and a couple of Great Blue Herons along the way. Passerines were not common but there was a flock of Boat-tailed Grackles at one birdy Shinnecock pullout plus a Robin with young, a couple of Brown Thrashers, a possible Willow Flycatcher, several Common Yellowthroats (including one in a flight song) and at least one unidentified skulking warbler. A female Belted Kingfisher at Tiana Beach was probably a migrant and there were Double-crested Cormorants on the move as well.
It was also a good day for butterflies. The species seen and identified were Monarchs, Pearl Crescent, Tiger Swallowtail, American Copper and Cloudless Sulphur.
Eric Salzman
Not surprisingly, off-shore birds were hard to come by, some distant, probably Gannets being the highlight (if one can call it that). There was a noticeable movement of Barn and Tree Swallows which continued well into the morning and several raptors -- two Northern Harriers, a Kestrel and at least one migrating Osprey -- were seen moving along the outer beach (like the swallows, the vanguard of a bigger migration to come).
Both marsh sparrows were seen: a number of Saltmarsh Sparrows at one bayman's pullout and several Seaside Sparrows with young at another; the latter was particularly welcome as these birds have been scarce this year. At least 30-40 Royal Terns were seen at the Pike's Beach overlook along with several Laughing Gulls, two Red Knots, a handsome breeding-plumaged Black-bellied Plover, several American Oystercatchers and some numbers of Short-billed Dowitchers, Sanderlings and Ruddy Turnstones. Common Terns were widespread but only a couple of Least Terns were seen; these birds are not doing well in our area. The most common shorebirds at almost every stop along the way were Least and Semipalmated Sandpipers.
The heron department was dominated by Great Egrets but there were a few Snowys and a couple of Great Blue Herons along the way. Passerines were not common but there was a flock of Boat-tailed Grackles at one birdy Shinnecock pullout plus a Robin with young, a couple of Brown Thrashers, a possible Willow Flycatcher, several Common Yellowthroats (including one in a flight song) and at least one unidentified skulking warbler. A female Belted Kingfisher at Tiana Beach was probably a migrant and there were Double-crested Cormorants on the move as well.
It was also a good day for butterflies. The species seen and identified were Monarchs, Pearl Crescent, Tiger Swallowtail, American Copper and Cloudless Sulphur.
Eric Salzman
Friday, August 12, 2011
Morning migrants and Evening Primroses
Migration is definitely in progress. At the same spot where I saw a Canada Warbler yesterday and a Least Flycatcher the day before, there was another warbler and another empid this morning -- but both of different species. The warbler was a tail-pumping Prairie. The flycatcher was a distinctly dark brown empid with a narrow obscure eye-ring, lightly buffy wingbars,and a yellow lower mandible on a smallish bill. The yellowish belly and the whiter throat suggested a young bird, probably an Alder Flycatcher (although Willow Flycatcher cannot be completely ruled out). There were also a couple of immature Common Yellowthroats as well as quite a few lurking Catbirds but these may have been local birds rather than migrants.
I notice that Canada and Prairie Warblers have also been reported in Central Park in the past day or two, a sure sign that these birds are on the move.
The number of Purple Martins around the colony seems larger than ever and there were many Barn Swallows flying as well. Are migrants beginning to join the local birds or even supplanting them? Hard to tell. Down at the shore, Tree Swallows are beginning to gather along with the Barn Swallows that are already on the move. There has also been a noticeable gathering of a few Lesser Yellowlegs all week in the grassy wet swales on the south side of Dune Road in the area almost directly opposite us on the far side of the bay. The Lesser Yellowlegs definitely have more of a preference for grassy, fresh or brackish water areas than the Greater.
The Evening Primroses have finally started to bloom, holding their lemony yellow flowers well into the day. And, in one of my favorite mushroom hunting areas in Quogue, there are a fair number of Ladies Tresses -- an orchid with a spiral of small white flowers on a single spike. I believe this species is Slender Ladies-tresses, Spiranthes gracilis, which has the peculiarity of losing its leaves before it blooms so all you see are the slender spikes with their delicate spiral of minature orchid blossoms.
Eric Salzman
I notice that Canada and Prairie Warblers have also been reported in Central Park in the past day or two, a sure sign that these birds are on the move.
The number of Purple Martins around the colony seems larger than ever and there were many Barn Swallows flying as well. Are migrants beginning to join the local birds or even supplanting them? Hard to tell. Down at the shore, Tree Swallows are beginning to gather along with the Barn Swallows that are already on the move. There has also been a noticeable gathering of a few Lesser Yellowlegs all week in the grassy wet swales on the south side of Dune Road in the area almost directly opposite us on the far side of the bay. The Lesser Yellowlegs definitely have more of a preference for grassy, fresh or brackish water areas than the Greater.
The Evening Primroses have finally started to bloom, holding their lemony yellow flowers well into the day. And, in one of my favorite mushroom hunting areas in Quogue, there are a fair number of Ladies Tresses -- an orchid with a spiral of small white flowers on a single spike. I believe this species is Slender Ladies-tresses, Spiranthes gracilis, which has the peculiarity of losing its leaves before it blooms so all you see are the slender spikes with their delicate spiral of minature orchid blossoms.
Eric Salzman
Thursday, August 11, 2011
first Canada Warbler of the season
A Canada Warbler appeared this morning in a bush in front of the same oak tree where Least Flycatcher appeared yesterday. This was a young bird with a gray head and only a faint necklace. In fact, when I first saw it flashing its bright yellow underparts in the leaves I thought it was a Nashville Warbler (both birds have large white bright eye rings and yellow underneath). But I could soon see the large size and the necklace, confirming that it was a Canada.
Canadas have not been very much in evidence in the past year or two so it was nice to see this bird working the underbrush in blithe ignorance of the fact that it is no long a Wilsonia. Yes, sad to say, the warbler genus named for Audubon's great predecessor Alexander Wilson, is no more and both Canada and Wilson's Warbler have been put in the genus Cardellina along with (of all birds) the Red-faced and Red Warblers! Almost all the traditional warbler genera have disappeared in a drastic reshuffling of the taxonomy of these birds but, fortunately, all the North American species and their common names survived!
The Canada had campany. A Blue-Gray Gnatcatcher was active in the same bush, a loudly chinking Northern Waterthrush flew in from a nearby bush and two young Common Yellowthroats -- undoubtedly the same ones that have been hanging around together -- were also in the area. Both of the young Green Herons were perched in the little outlying group of half-dead Red Cedars (their favorite perch) and they hung in there until I was almost underneath. But the best show was put on by no less than three Belted Kingfishers who were disputing the rights to a dead limb with an excellent view of the pond which was brimming full of water and bait fish at its early morning high tide mark.
Eric Salzman
Canadas have not been very much in evidence in the past year or two so it was nice to see this bird working the underbrush in blithe ignorance of the fact that it is no long a Wilsonia. Yes, sad to say, the warbler genus named for Audubon's great predecessor Alexander Wilson, is no more and both Canada and Wilson's Warbler have been put in the genus Cardellina along with (of all birds) the Red-faced and Red Warblers! Almost all the traditional warbler genera have disappeared in a drastic reshuffling of the taxonomy of these birds but, fortunately, all the North American species and their common names survived!
The Canada had campany. A Blue-Gray Gnatcatcher was active in the same bush, a loudly chinking Northern Waterthrush flew in from a nearby bush and two young Common Yellowthroats -- undoubtedly the same ones that have been hanging around together -- were also in the area. Both of the young Green Herons were perched in the little outlying group of half-dead Red Cedars (their favorite perch) and they hung in there until I was almost underneath. But the best show was put on by no less than three Belted Kingfishers who were disputing the rights to a dead limb with an excellent view of the pond which was brimming full of water and bait fish at its early morning high tide mark.
Eric Salzman
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
An Empid! Which one?
The first empidonax of the season appeared this morning bringing up that old favorite: Which Empid is Which?
But what is an empid? As many readers of this column will know, Empidonax is a genus of small flycatchers (close to a dozen north of the border but only five Eastern species) which all look superficially pretty much alike: upright stance, peaked head, eye-ring, wing bars, two-tone bill (lower mandible usually yellow), whitish chin shading off to grayish and even yellowish lower down, medium tail length and a tendency to flick the tail when perched.This bird appeared early in the morning on the branch of an oak tree right on the woodland corner between what I call the 'Front Range' (the edge of the woods facing east) and the place where the marsh makes a right-angle turn to the west. At the break of day, this spot, like the Front Range itself, often catches incoming fall migrants (and, yes, early August is already fall for some migrants). This one had just emerged from the wet vegetation and was preening and drying itself in the warm rays of the early morning sun. The bird had a complete white eye ring that was slightly tear-shaped at the back. It also had buffy wing bars and a strong yellowish tinge to the breast -- almost certainly indicating a young bird. The head color was quite gray but the back was gray/brown or perhaps slightly gray/olive. Of particular note were the small size of the bill and a short primary extension. the wing tips on the folded wings extending just a short way out along the length of the tail. Overall the bird appeared fairly small and round-headed. All these features add up to a Least Flycatcher as the likely call.
As if to confirm this, there was a rather distinctive PIT call from the vegetation on the right and when I walked over to the other side of the bushes, what appeared to be a second bird of the same flavor showed up.
My birding day started in the middle of the night with a Screech Owl trilling away outside the window. It continued first thing in the morning with two Green Herons flying up from the marsh edge and heading acrosss the creek. And then there was the challenge of the empid.
Eric Salzman
But what is an empid? As many readers of this column will know, Empidonax is a genus of small flycatchers (close to a dozen north of the border but only five Eastern species) which all look superficially pretty much alike: upright stance, peaked head, eye-ring, wing bars, two-tone bill (lower mandible usually yellow), whitish chin shading off to grayish and even yellowish lower down, medium tail length and a tendency to flick the tail when perched.This bird appeared early in the morning on the branch of an oak tree right on the woodland corner between what I call the 'Front Range' (the edge of the woods facing east) and the place where the marsh makes a right-angle turn to the west. At the break of day, this spot, like the Front Range itself, often catches incoming fall migrants (and, yes, early August is already fall for some migrants). This one had just emerged from the wet vegetation and was preening and drying itself in the warm rays of the early morning sun. The bird had a complete white eye ring that was slightly tear-shaped at the back. It also had buffy wing bars and a strong yellowish tinge to the breast -- almost certainly indicating a young bird. The head color was quite gray but the back was gray/brown or perhaps slightly gray/olive. Of particular note were the small size of the bill and a short primary extension. the wing tips on the folded wings extending just a short way out along the length of the tail. Overall the bird appeared fairly small and round-headed. All these features add up to a Least Flycatcher as the likely call.
As if to confirm this, there was a rather distinctive PIT call from the vegetation on the right and when I walked over to the other side of the bushes, what appeared to be a second bird of the same flavor showed up.
My birding day started in the middle of the night with a Screech Owl trilling away outside the window. It continued first thing in the morning with two Green Herons flying up from the marsh edge and heading acrosss the creek. And then there was the challenge of the empid.
Eric Salzman
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
mostly herons
There were three Green Herons perched on an outlying half-dead complex of Red Cedars at the edge of the marsh this morning: one adult bird that was being harassed by a Blue Jay and two young birds that looked to be barely out of the nest, both with a full fuzz mohawk (the head fuzz is the best sign of a recent fledgling). I don't think either of these young birds was the same as the one I saw in the pond a week or two ago (that one had just a few fuzzy feathers sticking out of its crown) so these birds may be the product of two different nests. Why the Jay should think of the Heron as an enemy is a good question; perhaps it thinks it is some sort of raptor. Oddly enough, a male Cardinal was also sitting out on a dead branch watching the proceedings with interest but not participating. The Jay was essentially attacking the adult heron although the young ones were perched higher and more prominently. But Green Herons have a fearsome weapon in the form of a long, sharp bill and eventually the Blue Jay gave up and took off. In order to continue on my rounds without spooking the herons (the path leads right by the Red Cedars), I ducked inside the woods where there is a sort of overgrown deer path. As I started to bushwhack my way inside, a fourth heron lifted up from the marsh headed right overhead. One of the herons in the cedar (probably the adult) called loudly as the new heron veered off heading around the corner and into the woods. It was, I suspect, the other adult.
I had to make a short trip down to Dune Road and noted that the high tides and recent rains has produced, not only a lot of puddles on the road but also has filled up some of the dune swales on the south side of the road. These flooded grassy areas attract shorebirds and herons. Todays catch included a handsome breeding-plumaged Great Blue Heron and a Greater and Lesser Yellowlegs side by side for a nice comparison.
Eric Salzman
I had to make a short trip down to Dune Road and noted that the high tides and recent rains has produced, not only a lot of puddles on the road but also has filled up some of the dune swales on the south side of the road. These flooded grassy areas attract shorebirds and herons. Todays catch included a handsome breeding-plumaged Great Blue Heron and a Greater and Lesser Yellowlegs side by side for a nice comparison.
Eric Salzman
Monday, August 8, 2011
Turtle Way or Mushroom Alley
Turtle Way, also known as Mushroom Alley is the convergence of two idyllic paths that lead from neighboring gardens through the woods to a dock on Weesuck Creek. This trail, which marks the northern edge of our property is a right of way, used mainly by one of our neighbors to reach the dock where he keeps his boat (he is great fisherman and regularly disappears into the bay to compete with the Osprey in search of finney prey). The path is also used by me as part of my regular rounds. The forest is oak and hickory with scattered pines and cedars, particularly near the more open creek end. The overhead canopy is closed so the ground is shaded and covered with moss and lichen which give it a sort of fairy-tale look; these non-flowering plants are, no doubt, sustained by the regular fogs which float in from the bay and creek and the general high levels of humidity. After the rains, the non-flowering plant population is augmented by the appearance of fungi which in turn attract the Box Turtles. Box Turtles are very fond of mushrooms although they seem to nibble only a piece of each mushroom before moving on to the next. I often catch them in the act, their jaws covered with white mushroom crumbs. Sometimes every mushroom on Mushroom Alley seems to have been nibbled. The list of mushroom along here is a long one and varies with the season. So far this year, the specialties have been lactarius (Lactarious volemus or something similar; edible and excellent), the Red and Yellow Chanterelles (edible and excellent), several russalas (some edible, most not) and a beautiful purple, meaty, scrumptious-looking bolete which is absolutely inedible due to its intense bitterness. The turtles eat 'em all.
Eric Salzman
Eric Salzman
Saturday, August 6, 2011
owl howl?
There were some weird screaming sounds outside for a few minutes night before last. It could have been a raccoon or some other nocturnal animal or it could have been an owl. I've heard Great Horned Owls scream; they make a really terrifying 'bloody murder' sound -- maybe not (in my experience) quite the same as what I heard last night. But Long-eared Owls also apparently make some kind of similar sound; you can hear it on some of the recordings.
I heard the long owl calls again last night. They had the form of a slightly whistlely scream, rising and then falling in pitch. Some of the longer ones had a quaver in them but there were no whinnies, bleats or trills as you would expect from a Screech Owl. I didn't hear any hooting but Lorna did and she described it as rhythmic, medium range and closest to the the Great Horned Owl pattern; that's pretty much what I heard three nights ago. I would have said that there were two different birds if I had not heard long calls immediately followed by rhythmic hoots at least twice the night before the night before last; it all certainly sounded like a single bird. What owl has both the long call (a bit like a Screech Owl but without the whinnies, bleats and trills) and the rhythmic hoots (like a Great Horned Owl but perhaps a little less deep and boomy)? I'm still waiting for the Crows, busybody Jays or Chickadees to show me a roosting owl in the daytime.
The 'post-breeding dispersal' birds were all present the past two days: Royal Terns on the creek, Yellow-crowned Night Heron and Spotted Sandpiper on the pond at low tide, and 'chinking' Northern Waterthrush in the Marsh Elder thickets. An Eastern Kingbird showed up on the marsh yesterday afternoon. This is a local breeding species which has nested at the edge of the marsh in past years and frequently turns up here in the spring and fall. Great Crested Flycatcher, another local flycatcher, is still active. As opposed to the Kingbird which likes open areas and has become more sporadic in its appearances, the Great Crested calls come from the woods almost every day both early in the morning and late in the afternoon or early evening.
Eric Salzman
I heard the long owl calls again last night. They had the form of a slightly whistlely scream, rising and then falling in pitch. Some of the longer ones had a quaver in them but there were no whinnies, bleats or trills as you would expect from a Screech Owl. I didn't hear any hooting but Lorna did and she described it as rhythmic, medium range and closest to the the Great Horned Owl pattern; that's pretty much what I heard three nights ago. I would have said that there were two different birds if I had not heard long calls immediately followed by rhythmic hoots at least twice the night before the night before last; it all certainly sounded like a single bird. What owl has both the long call (a bit like a Screech Owl but without the whinnies, bleats and trills) and the rhythmic hoots (like a Great Horned Owl but perhaps a little less deep and boomy)? I'm still waiting for the Crows, busybody Jays or Chickadees to show me a roosting owl in the daytime.
The 'post-breeding dispersal' birds were all present the past two days: Royal Terns on the creek, Yellow-crowned Night Heron and Spotted Sandpiper on the pond at low tide, and 'chinking' Northern Waterthrush in the Marsh Elder thickets. An Eastern Kingbird showed up on the marsh yesterday afternoon. This is a local breeding species which has nested at the edge of the marsh in past years and frequently turns up here in the spring and fall. Great Crested Flycatcher, another local flycatcher, is still active. As opposed to the Kingbird which likes open areas and has become more sporadic in its appearances, the Great Crested calls come from the woods almost every day both early in the morning and late in the afternoon or early evening.
Eric Salzman
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Who was that owl?
Royal Terns came up Weesuck Creek this morning -- the first real arrival here in numbers (I had previously heard a single bird calling somewhere out on Shinnecock and there have been Royals at Pike's Beach, Westhampton Dunes). Royals are yet another example of the post-breeding dispersal that enlivens our summers here. Northern Waterthrush is still here and still 'chinking' away -- perhaps the same bird that I've been seeing the past few days although now moved over a bit from its previous location near the pond. Same with the Spotted Sandpiper. And the Yellow-crowned Night Heron was still working the mud flats in the early morning low tide.
At least one correspondent (Bob McGrath) wrote to me about the unusual owl call that I heard the night before last, venturing the opinion that it might have been a Long-eared Owl. Although, I didn't say so, this is my opinion as well. I didn't hear the call again last night but I spent some time yesterday searching for the owl in our cedar and pine trees and also listening to recordings of Long-eared Owl calls. I didn't find the live owl and neither did the Blue Jays. And I didn't find the exact sequence (a series of longer notes following by short medium-range hoots) reproduced anywhere but I did find recordings with similar sounds. The problem is that most of these recordings were made in Europe and the few American recordings that I heard were from the Western U.S. or Canada. Many birds, but owls in particular, have regional accents and it is also clear that Long-eared Owls produce a variety of sounds including longer and shorter hoots. So the question remains somewhat up in the air. But Long-eared Owls are not unknown around here and, although they are certainly more common in winter, there are spring and summer reports from both Breeding Bird Atlases (although no definite proof of breeding). Long-eared Owls are exceptionally adept at hiding themselves and their vocalizations are so little known that North American birds are sometimes described as 'generally silent' or 'not particularly vocal', descriptions that apply more in the winter than the spring and the summer. I don't plan to stay up all night but there's a good chance that if it does call again I'll hear it. And maybe run outside with a flashlight to try and find it.
Eric Salzman
At least one correspondent (Bob McGrath) wrote to me about the unusual owl call that I heard the night before last, venturing the opinion that it might have been a Long-eared Owl. Although, I didn't say so, this is my opinion as well. I didn't hear the call again last night but I spent some time yesterday searching for the owl in our cedar and pine trees and also listening to recordings of Long-eared Owl calls. I didn't find the live owl and neither did the Blue Jays. And I didn't find the exact sequence (a series of longer notes following by short medium-range hoots) reproduced anywhere but I did find recordings with similar sounds. The problem is that most of these recordings were made in Europe and the few American recordings that I heard were from the Western U.S. or Canada. Many birds, but owls in particular, have regional accents and it is also clear that Long-eared Owls produce a variety of sounds including longer and shorter hoots. So the question remains somewhat up in the air. But Long-eared Owls are not unknown around here and, although they are certainly more common in winter, there are spring and summer reports from both Breeding Bird Atlases (although no definite proof of breeding). Long-eared Owls are exceptionally adept at hiding themselves and their vocalizations are so little known that North American birds are sometimes described as 'generally silent' or 'not particularly vocal', descriptions that apply more in the winter than the spring and the summer. I don't plan to stay up all night but there's a good chance that if it does call again I'll hear it. And maybe run outside with a flashlight to try and find it.
Eric Salzman
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Night watch and early morning
"Fall" migration begins in July (some say there is even movement of some shore birds already in June) and by the beginning of August we start to see birds around here that had previously been scarce. The Northern Waterthrush which arrived here yesterday doesn't breed on Long Island so we know that this is an early migrant. The Blue-gray Gnatcatcher does breed here but almost always next to fresh water ponds so its appearance here this morning by our salt pond qualifies it as an early migrant as well.
The Yellow-crowned Night Heron was again at its post on a piece of wood at low tide at the mouth of the pond early this morning but it is impossible to tell whether this is a locally nesting bird or an early migrant. Ditto with the Saltmarsh Sparrow (formerly Sharptail, formerly Saltmarsh Sharptail), common on Shinnecock Bay marshes, but which made its first appearance here since the spring. Admittedly this is an easy bird to miss in the high marsh grass but this one was perched on a phragmites reed and, as the British twitchers say, showing itself nicely (Eileen Schwinn, who accompanied me on the morning walk, spotted it).
The night watch has been notable as well. The katydids started to sing a day or two ago and they were in full voice (if that's the right word for insect song produced by stridulation or wing-rubbing) last night. Then about 4 a.m., I was awakened by a call that I did not recognize: a kind of longish 'brahhhnk' sound (no trill or tremolo), repeated two or three times. At first I thought it might have been a mammal but this sound was then followed by a series of semi-rhythmic hoots and then the whole sequence was repeated. There were no trills and no whinnies (as one would expect from a Screech Owl) and the hoots were not deep like those you usually hear from a Great Horned Owl. I briefly toyed with the idea of getting up, grabbing a flashlight and looking for the bird but it stopped calling and somehow I fell back asleep. At about 2:30 this afternoon (as I was writing this), I heard a racket from the Blue Jays and, feeling sure that they had found the mysterious owl, I ran outside. Alas, it was 'only' a small accipiter -- either a female Sharp-shin or a male Cooper's lurking in the pines and eventually flying away into the sun.
Eric Salzman
The Yellow-crowned Night Heron was again at its post on a piece of wood at low tide at the mouth of the pond early this morning but it is impossible to tell whether this is a locally nesting bird or an early migrant. Ditto with the Saltmarsh Sparrow (formerly Sharptail, formerly Saltmarsh Sharptail), common on Shinnecock Bay marshes, but which made its first appearance here since the spring. Admittedly this is an easy bird to miss in the high marsh grass but this one was perched on a phragmites reed and, as the British twitchers say, showing itself nicely (Eileen Schwinn, who accompanied me on the morning walk, spotted it).
The night watch has been notable as well. The katydids started to sing a day or two ago and they were in full voice (if that's the right word for insect song produced by stridulation or wing-rubbing) last night. Then about 4 a.m., I was awakened by a call that I did not recognize: a kind of longish 'brahhhnk' sound (no trill or tremolo), repeated two or three times. At first I thought it might have been a mammal but this sound was then followed by a series of semi-rhythmic hoots and then the whole sequence was repeated. There were no trills and no whinnies (as one would expect from a Screech Owl) and the hoots were not deep like those you usually hear from a Great Horned Owl. I briefly toyed with the idea of getting up, grabbing a flashlight and looking for the bird but it stopped calling and somehow I fell back asleep. At about 2:30 this afternoon (as I was writing this), I heard a racket from the Blue Jays and, feeling sure that they had found the mysterious owl, I ran outside. Alas, it was 'only' a small accipiter -- either a female Sharp-shin or a male Cooper's lurking in the pines and eventually flying away into the sun.
Eric Salzman
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
super storm
We had a major thunderstorm last night. It came right overhead, knocked out our lights (and all our electric), poured buckets of water on us and then moved on out -- very slowly it seemed -- to go over the bay and across Dune Raod out to the ocean; lightning flashes from that direction continued for a long time after. As the drama subsided but the electricity did not return, we elected to go to bed early; of course the lights then came back on shortly thereafter. There was a lot of debris scattered all around this morning and I spent some time clearing brush from the driveway and our two right-of-ways. There were no trees down on our place but one neighbor had a whole tree go over. It was either a Green or White Ash and luckily it tumbled on their lawn and away from their vehicles and the house. The base of the tree looked like it had been hit by lightning but, more likely, it was simply rotten out inside and the wind and rain applied the coup de grace. Another tree on Montauk Highway went over and was resting on the electric wires (curiously the police or fire department put out yellow tape behind the tree (the safe place to walk) while leaving the sidewalk under the semi-toppled tree quite open to passers-by. It was undoubtedly this tree fall or one like it that knocked out our electricity.
It was low tide this morning with the Yellow-crowned Night Heron perched on its favorite fallen log. Other birds frequenting the pond were Snowy Egret, Green Heron, Spotted Sandpiper and Belted Kingfisher. Just off the west bank of the pond, in a dense area of wetlands and other vegetation, the first Northern Waterthrush of the season popped up, identifying itself first by its signature 'chink' and then afterwards skulking not quite invisibly in the branches of a Red Cedar. This bird, the passerine equivalent of the Spotted Sandpiper (it also has a teeter-toy teeter-totter), generally arrives in mid to late July and hangs out for the rest of the summer. Since it doesn't breed on Long Island, it is another example of a species in its post breeding dispersal phase although, unlike some of the coastal birds (which are southern), this is a northern breeder on the first leg of its move south.
On yesterday's post, I suggested that the stand of Dodder by our pond was parasitic on grass. However I just didn't look closely. It is clearly wrapped around and sucking the life out of a small stand of Iva fructescens or Marsh Elder. Fortunately, we have a lot of Marsh Elder all around the marsh and can afford to sacrifice a few plants to Cuscuta.
Eric Salzman
It was low tide this morning with the Yellow-crowned Night Heron perched on its favorite fallen log. Other birds frequenting the pond were Snowy Egret, Green Heron, Spotted Sandpiper and Belted Kingfisher. Just off the west bank of the pond, in a dense area of wetlands and other vegetation, the first Northern Waterthrush of the season popped up, identifying itself first by its signature 'chink' and then afterwards skulking not quite invisibly in the branches of a Red Cedar. This bird, the passerine equivalent of the Spotted Sandpiper (it also has a teeter-toy teeter-totter), generally arrives in mid to late July and hangs out for the rest of the summer. Since it doesn't breed on Long Island, it is another example of a species in its post breeding dispersal phase although, unlike some of the coastal birds (which are southern), this is a northern breeder on the first leg of its move south.
On yesterday's post, I suggested that the stand of Dodder by our pond was parasitic on grass. However I just didn't look closely. It is clearly wrapped around and sucking the life out of a small stand of Iva fructescens or Marsh Elder. Fortunately, we have a lot of Marsh Elder all around the marsh and can afford to sacrifice a few plants to Cuscuta.
Eric Salzman
Monday, August 1, 2011
a martin madrigal and a plant parasite
The Purple Martins, all in a cluster around the colony, were in an extended, cheerful conversation -- or was it a chorus? -- this morning. In spite of my thinking that the bird were about to desert the colony and gather somewhere else to get ready for the move south, there are still over a dozen birds in the vicinity. At times the colony seems empty as though the inhabitants had vacated the premises but this morning they were gathered right on top of the martin houses, all gabbling and chirping and harmonizing away, perhaps discussing their next move. There are also still a few swallows around but literally just a few.
The Yellow-crowned Night Heron was on the pond this morning. As I came down to the edge, it flew to the opposite end of the pond where it landed on a piece of half buried wood and stared at me, clearly trying to figure out whether or not I was a threat. The much smaller Spotted Sandpiper did more or less the same thing, popping up and piping as it flew to the opposite side. When I came back to the pond about an hour later, the tide was up and the birds were gone.
An interesting development on the vegetative front is the appearance (and flowering) of Dodder or Cuscuta. This is not a difficult plant to recognize as it is a rootless, chlorophyll-less and seemingly leafless plant that has striking orange stems and small white flowers. Easy to recognize generically perhaps but not so easy specifically; there are many similar species. All of them are parasitic and the cluster that has appeared by the side of the pond seems to be parasitizing the grass growing there. Not counting fungi (which are not plants anyway), we have three parasitic or saprophytic plants: Indian Pipe, Pinesap and Dodder.
Eric Salzman
The Yellow-crowned Night Heron was on the pond this morning. As I came down to the edge, it flew to the opposite end of the pond where it landed on a piece of half buried wood and stared at me, clearly trying to figure out whether or not I was a threat. The much smaller Spotted Sandpiper did more or less the same thing, popping up and piping as it flew to the opposite side. When I came back to the pond about an hour later, the tide was up and the birds were gone.
An interesting development on the vegetative front is the appearance (and flowering) of Dodder or Cuscuta. This is not a difficult plant to recognize as it is a rootless, chlorophyll-less and seemingly leafless plant that has striking orange stems and small white flowers. Easy to recognize generically perhaps but not so easy specifically; there are many similar species. All of them are parasitic and the cluster that has appeared by the side of the pond seems to be parasitizing the grass growing there. Not counting fungi (which are not plants anyway), we have three parasitic or saprophytic plants: Indian Pipe, Pinesap and Dodder.
Eric Salzman
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