Viva Erechtites hieracifolia

Although the tide was very high this morning, there were two night-herons in the trees by the pond just hanging out, waiting for the tide to drop. They both flew off as I came down the path from the house. One of them was calling and was clearly an adult Yellow-crowned; it flew to the right over to the marsh and disappeared. The other, an immature bird, may have been the same young Yellow-crowned that I have seen several times this season but it was difficult to be absolutely sure if it was even a Yellow-crowned (the immatures of the two species are difficult to tell apart in flight). Instead of flying with the adult bird, it took off directly across the creek ending up on a Pitch Pine branch on the opposite shore.

The entire colony of Purple Martins seemed to be in the air over the marsh this morning. This means that most of the young are flying and that their departure is not far off.

In the areas where Hurricane Irene cleared out the canopy and understory as well, there are, as previously described, masses of Pokeweed poking forth, some of it severely deer-nipped, some of coming into flower and even into fruit (fruit being those lurid purple pokeberries). But there is another, equally unusual plant that is sprouting up in great numbers and at a great rate. This is a rough-looking vegetable with jagged leaves, a groovy stem and strong-smelling toothed leaves. It has a flower that looks like it's about to open but never does. These flower heads are brush-like with a swollen base and brushy disk flowers (there are no rays) that are barely visible peeping out from the top of their coccoon of green bracts. The Latin name of this plant, Erechtites hieracifolia (try saying that fast five times), is quite elegant but the 'common' name is almost as homely as the plant: Pilewort presumably refers to the fact that it was once supposed to cure haemorrhoids (don't ask). It's also known by the classier name of Fireweed because, like a better-known plant with this name, it characteristically appears after a fire has opened up a wooded area. In our case, it wasn't fire but a tropical storm that cleared the way for this plant to make its rugged, ragged appearance. The fascinating question is how these plants 'know' that the ground has been prepared for them by an angry Mother Nature enabling them to prosper from the misfortune of others.

Eric Salzman

song contest

There has been a rousing song contest between two Carolina Wrens whose territories are separated by the open area in front of the house. The two birds spend a certain portion of the morning engaged in what is sometimes called countersinging but which seems to me to be more like a musical battle. The songs are easily recognizable: one bird sings a traditional loud upward bounding triplet, repeated four or five time, and the other a simpler two-step downward song, also repeated a few times. The two sing in strict alternation from the woods on either side, thereby defining or confirming the boundaries between their territories. Many of the Carolina's tropical relatives (Cantorchilus wrens, formerly also considered in the same Thryothorus genus as the Carolinas) are famous for their male-female duets but our birds are territorial males. Along with the Cardinals, the Carolinas are the only birds still singing extensively at this time of the year and, in fact, their singing is more intense than it has been since the early spring. Like the Cardinals, the Carolina Wrens are residents (i.e. they don't migrate) and they tend to defend the same territories and mates throughout the year. In these song contests, the singers usually stick to a single signature song repeated vigorously a few times and then, after a pause, the same thing over and over gain. At this time of year, some birds -- perhaps young ones learning to sing or older birds looking for a mate and a territory -- seem to vary their songs to a remarkable degree. But the song warriors stick to the traditional type.

One of the most remarkable of local 'songs' -- also from a resident bird and often heard at this time of the year -- is the quavery call of the Tufted Titmouse. This is a very haunting sound, a bit like one of the calls of the Screech Owl; it is not mentioned in the field guides and not recognized even by most birdwatchers. The best-known song of the Titmouse is the two-note 'Peter, Peter' but they also often sound a Johnny One-Note note (there are other variations and their ordinary calls are similar to the dee-dee-dee of the Chickadee). But the Titmice have a bigger vocal range than most people realize and I long ago learned that 'if you don't know what you're hearing, it's probably a Titmouse'. The quavering song, although fairly often heard, is not mentioned in the standard guidebooks and it took me quite a while to figure out what it was. It is definitely Titmouse but I have yet to discover if it has any special meaning or use. Whatever it means to the birds, it has an almost supernatural aura as it floats out of the woods.

Eric Salzman

midsummer visitors

What did I say about the overdue Northern Waterthrush the other day? Well he's here. Or she. Or they. There was one at the head of the marsh that was chipping away so loudly that I knew what it was immediately. And, typically for a Waterthrush, it jumped right out when I started pishing, landed on a branch only a few feet over my head and then continued to circle around me, calling all the while and providing great views of this distinguished warbler. There was also at least one House Wren, a couple of juvenile Common Yellowthroats, and several Carolina Wrens as well as some Chickadees and Titmice in the neighborhood. Another N. Waterthrush was near the pond, also advertising himself by his chipping.

A few Royal Terns were flying up and down the creek. As usual, there was an adult with its typical Royal Tern finger-across-the-comb call followed close behind by an immature making its own distinctive higher-pitched sound. A Screech Owl was calling in the night with a long series of downward rippling calls. This owl has bred here in the past but currently is most likely to put in its appearance sometime in July or August.

Most of these birds are typical of midsummer in these hereabouts. Down at the shore, migration is clearly underway with swallows and shorebirds moving steadily in groups along the dunes and shoreline, all traveling in the same direction -- to the southwest. But the Royal Terns, Northern Waterthrush, Spotted Sandpiper and Screech Owl that typically arrive here in July will stay for much of the summer (and even into the fall). While I don't know for sure that these are always the same individuals, the pattern of arrival is distinct and predictable: they move in after breeding, often with their young in tow, for an extended stay before they continue further south on their migratory journeys. If the climate continues to warm, I suspect that they may linger into the winter as well.

Eric Salzman

a mouse in the sink

I found a White-footed Mouse in the kitchen sink this morning. We have an old-fashioned double sink and the mouse had fallen into a tub in the deeper basin and couldn't get out. I know these mice don't have a good reputation these days but they are 'country mice' and the cutest of the cute; I simply dumped him out the back door and let him scamper away. It's the first one that I've seen since we renovated the house ten years ago but, judging by the daily operations of the dog's sniffer, I suspect that they are more common than we think.

Afterwards I had a rather damp walk this morning under leaden skies but managed to get back before the clouds opened up. There were three Osprey in the air calling and soaring over our place in addition to four Osprey perched on dead stubs on the tip of Pine Neck on the opposite shore. The latter were almost certainly the adults and young from the Pine Neck nest. The three birds overhead were probably young ones from somewhere else engaged in social activities of the osprey kind. Even as I write this, I hear Osprey chirps; there are calling birds almost all the day long.

Eric Salzman

early migration

I spent a solid hour late yesterday morning on the bay side of Tiana Beach where my granddaughter Juliette was taking her next-to-last swimming lesson. It is a good spot to watch fall migration in its early stages! Yes, fall migration. Even in the face of some drizzle and more than a bit of wind, there was a strong movement of Barn Swallows along with Tree, Bank and Rough-winged Swallows, all darting and swooping along the beach but ultimately always moving in the same direction -- northeast-to-southwest. Also many shore birds were making the same move. Seen yesterday: Semipalmated Plovers, Least and Semipalmated Sandpipers, Ruddy Turnstones, Short-billed Dowitchers, all flying in small flocks in the same direction along the shore. You really notice the similarities in the structure and flight of small shorebirds and swallows in this migration; both fly in open, windy areas, crossing continents with their swept-back wings and high-style flying abilities into the wind.

About half way through the hour, I heard a melodious piping falling from the sky and discovered two Whimbrel flying over the dunes and out to the ocean. A short while later, I heard the same distinctive call coming from the extensive marshes just to the east. And, lo and behold, there were three Whimbrels flying over the marsh and dropping out of sight into the marsh. Eileen Schwinn found another bird this morning on the mussel flats just west of Ponquogue Bridge (see attached photo). Those flats have been the best place to find a Whimbrel or two at this time of the year but my experience yesterday suggests that there are a lot more Whimbrels around than we realize; many of them are flyovers but others stop in deep marsh habitat far from the road. The best way to find them is to recognize their aerial piping, a distinctive midsummer sound.

There were also sandpipers on our pond and marsh this morning -- Spotted, Least and Semipalmated -- as well as two Great Blues and at least one Snowy Egret. Two or three House Wrens were hanging out with a couple of Carolina Wrens in the hurricane blasted bushes near the head of the marsh. I'm still looking for the overdue Northern Waterthrush which should show up any day now.

Eric Salzman

Where are the Crows of yesterday?

All the noisy crows seem to have abandoned us en masse. I was out early this morning and there was a striking silence. The night insects had shut down and, in the cool, cloudy morning, the day cicadas had not yet started up. There seemed to be just a few birds left at the Purple Martin colony and even the gulls, terns, and Ospreys on the creek were quiet. Only when I reached the open mud flats in the middle of the marsh (the tide was low) was there a little action. First two Least Sandpipers came in and landed on the mud. Then a young Raccoon appeared from out of the clumps of Spartina grass and crossed an open channel to disappear into the densely vegetated far side. And, shortly thereafter, a second young Raccoon did the same. I could hear scraping sounds coming from the area where they went; they were, I think, digging out Ribbed Mussels, one of their favorite foods.

But still no Crows.

A neighbor stopped me on the Randall Lane segment of my morning walk to show me a photograph. It was 'our' Red Fox which apparently sat quite still for its picture in the middle of Randall Lane in the middle of the day. Curiously enough, our neighbor -- a lifetime resident of East Quogue -- was not sure what the animal was. This is a small individual and quite mangy so perhaps that accounts for her confusion. It seems that there was a fox den somewhere in the neighborhood which produced several young kits and this one might have been the runt of the litter -- now out on his or her own.

Two Screech Owls flew into a Cedar tree at dusk last night but I couldn't locate them afterward. The night sounds that followed included the first Katydids of the season. Night insect calls are quite different from the cicadas that sing in the daytime but, aside from the Katydids, I am not sure what insects are involved.

Late breaking news: no less than five Whimbels in and over the Shinnecock Bay marshes in the Tiana Beach area late this morning! More details in tomorrow's post!

Eric Salzman

deer & pokeweed

There is a path that cuts through the far side of Samuel and Frances Salzman Preserve (the part of our property that is open to the public); Hurricane Irene caused a great deal of damage here. The storm-driven tide came up very far in this area (which forms the head or source of our marsh), and the storm knocked over trees and opened up what was formerly a closed woodland canopy at the edge of the wetlands. As a result, the vegetation on the now open forest floor has become much richer and there is a notable proliferation of Pokeweed coming up all along the path. Some of the Pokeweed has formed stringy plants covered with the greenish flowers and incipient purple berries. But most of the shoots are quite small and only began to send up flowering stems quite recently. This morning I noticed that a whole row of these plants have been neatly nipped in the bud -- obviously by marauding deer. Pokeweed is at least somewhat poisonous when it is mature but we used to collect the fresh shoots and, after cooking them and pouring off the water a few times, we ate it with gusto (it goes very well with gusto). Presumably, the deer can eat the young unboiled shoots without adverse effects.

I was greeted this morning by a female (or young) Ruby-throated Hummingbird bouncing from bare branch to bare branch in the oak trees at the pond. At another extreme, at least one young Osprey from the Pine Neck nest is flying. The nest is far and I can't quite tell if there are any more fledglings to come. Closer to home, most of the Purple Martin young seem to have flown with only a few active nests left.

Eric Salzman

the constant catbird and a snail tale

A Gray Catbird hunts regularly all around the porch; it literally pops out every few minutes to look for insects. There might be more than one bird; impossible to tell. A more certain conclusion: there must be a catbird nest in the bushes somewhere nearby with hungry mouths to feed.

A small feeding flock consisting of Carolina Wrens, Common Yellowthroats, a Downy Woodpecker, a few B-c Chickadees and a Yellow Warbler was working the marsh edge this morning. The Purple Martin colony has at least doubled in size as the young birds emerge from their gourd nests. How these fledglings step out of their nest holes one day and manage to soar through the air on their first try is one of the mysteries of bird life.

I recently referred to all the small snails on the saltmarsh as Mud Snails but Mike Bottini points out that there are actually two species. Melampus bidentata, the Salt Marsh Snail, is an air breather and climbs up the marsh grass stems at high tide while the true Mud Snails (Ilyanassa obsoleta) are the ones that carpet muddy bottoms and are exposed in big numbers at low tide.

Eric Salzman

living statuary and a surprising songster

The tide was low yesterday evening and there was a Yellow-crowned Night-Heron standing, still as a statue, on the mud at the edge of the pond. What a striking bird with its heavy bill, orangey eye, black-and-white striped head, gray body and shortish nuptial plumes. When I looked away for a moment and then turned back, it was standing on a little island of mud near the middle of the pond. as motionless as ever; I never saw it move at all. This morning, it (or another Yellow-crowned Night-Heron) was perched on one of the stanchions of the dock next door just beyond the mouth of the pond. Still as a stature; still motionless. By the time I had come around on the trails to the foot of the dock, it was gone.

A small mixed flock of Titmice and Chickadees working its way through the Pitch Pines also included a Pine Warbler, the first I've seen since the early spring. This rather drab bird had traces of yellow at the sides of the breast but otherwise gave the appearance of a young bird, possibly a young of the year.

For the second or third time in the past few days, I've heard a Carolina Wren singing a potpourri of calls, changing its tune every few bars as if trying out a series of different songs. There are other Carolinas around singing their typically stereotyped song full out. So the question arises as to who these fancy songsters might be. Are they young birds just learning how to sing and trying out the various possibilities. Or are they unmated birds looking to attract some unattached female by showing their versatility and virtuosity? I had a glimpse of this morning's singer and he (I assume it was a 'he') looked like an adult. It's curious that this bird -- which, week in and week out, sings a simple, single, loud, repetitive song -- has the ability to sing a big variety of tunes but seems to indulge in this talent only in the off-season! Could Carolina Wrens, being all-year-round residents, indulge in some of their mating and courtship behavior in the summer and fall?

Eric Salzman

family life among the birds

The Yellowthroats have moved all the way up from the marsh through the woods to the old right-of-way where there is plenty of dense underbrush to suit their living style. I got good sightings of at least two young birds with the adult male. What I thought was a second family group turned out to be the adult female presumably traveling with one or more young from the same nest. I think this is a pretty common practice: mom and dad split up, each taking a couple of youngsters with them to search for food.

I have now seen a single House Wren hanging out with a family of Carolina Wrens at least three times. House Wrens have been common breeders around here in recent years but the population now seems to have been reduced to this single bird who has moved in with the closest relatives he or she can find.

House Wren sexes look alike but this morning's Belted Kingfisher was a female, identified by the reddish or rust belly band. Since both male and female are appearing on the creek (I saw a male later in the day) and appear to tolerate each other, the assumption is that this is a pair possibly with young in a nest hole somewhere.

Eric Salzman

Royal Terns and a Racket of Gulls

Royal Terns appeared on Weesuck Creek and Shinnecock Bay this morning. I saw Royals a week or so ago at Cupsogue but today's were the first 2012 birds heard and seen around here. As usual, I heard them before I saw them. These big terns are one of our signs of mid-summer along with the appearances of Spotted Sandpipers and Great Blue Herons -- both also seen today.

Another sign of the season: a big gathering of blackbirds -- mostly young Red-wings but also including Common Grackles and Starlings -- in the bushes and trees all along the edge of the pond and marsh.

The Common Yellowthroat family moved down the edge of the marsh for a day or two and then retreated back up into the brush and woods around the head of the marsh where they are still hanging out. It continues to be difficult to see the young birds who stay deep in the brush but they call for attention as the adults hunt nearby for food.

A Herring Gull holding what looked like a Spider Crab flew overhead chased by two two other gulls making a lot of noise. But the biggest racket was created by Ring-billed Gulls sitting on the water in the creek below and calling like hungry young birds demanding to be fed. But these were not young birds; they were in full adult plumage and one had the feeling that they were making a racket just for the sake of making a racket. Gulls are noisy birds but figuring out their calls is not the easiest thing in the world.

Eric Salzman

in flagrante delicto

I have finally caught Seaside Dragonlets in flagrante delicto. Well, that's a manner of speaking; I didn't literally catch anything but found several pairs locked together. That may be the explanation for the continuing large numbers of these odentates which I still find all over the marsh and marsh edges -- a kind of mating swarm.

There have been plenty of butterflies flying in the heat (Tiger Swallowtails have been especially notable) but I'm still trying to pin down the skippers. There are at least two different species in the marsh grasses and phragmites. One, I'm pretty sure, is the Broad-winged Skipper but I have not yet pinned down the other (that's also a manner of speaking; I have no intention of literally pinning anything down but I am going to try to continue with butterflies -- not to mention other insects -- through binoculars).

Today's change in weather did not much affect the Osprey which continue to be active over the creek. As usual, there was one bird carrying a fish and calling loudly -- i.e. calling attention to itself as a great fisherbird. Other birds out on the pond as the tide began to drop: Spotted Sandpiper and Snowy Egret, once the most common of the white egrets but now vastly outnumbered by its Great counterpart.

Eric Salzman

a scruffy Night-Heron and a visit to the other side of the bay

This morning's walk, late and abbreviated, hit the day's heat and humidity and a fairly healthy high tide as well. In spite of all this, there an adult Yellow-crowned Night-Heron standing on the rubble of some phragmites that had recently been cut down and it was accompanied by a young, scruffy bird of the same persuasion. This latter was almost certainly a bird of the year, a true juvenile (the yearling birds, which keep the brown look, are generally in a much neater plumage). This morning's youngster was born and raised somewhere in the neighborhood and paid us a visit accompanied by one of his/her parents. Some day I'm going to locate the nest.

I just spend an hour on the bayside of Tiana Beach while my granddaughter Juliette had a swimming lesson at the Town facility there. There was a constant stream of swallows (mostly Barn but several Rough-wings as well) and peeps (mostly Least but I did see one Semipalmated). These birds gave every indication of moving along the beach, always in a northeast-to-southwest direction. If that ain't migration, I don't know what is.

Other birds included a single Killdeer, two Glossy Ibis, a number of calling yellowlegs (including at least a couple of Lessers) and two beefy jumbo-sized shorebirds flying over the distant salt marsh and showing no white in flight -- Whimbrels for sure.

Eric Salzman

two old friends

I was at the head of the marsh this morning and decided to try and pish up the young Yellowthroats that have been hanging out there ('pishing' is a technical term that birders use for the little sounds they make to coax small birds out of hiding) There was some response from the Yellowthroats although the only one I actually saw was the adult male. But an entire family of Carolina Wrens popped out almost immediately followed by -- surprise! -- a singing House Wren followed by -- surprise! surprise! -- two Yellow Warblers, at least one of which looked like a young bird. House Wren and Yellow Warbler are old friends that have not been in evidence recently although I suspect that they must be breeding somewhere in the neighborhood; I typically see and hear them in early May and then again around now -- mid July.

There is a lot of Osprey activity and I suspect that a second Weesuck Creek pair may be forming. I'm also seeing a single Green Heron almost every morning but the bird generally disappears by flying into the woods. Saw a Yellow-crowned Night-Heron flying over but the morning tide in the pond is high these days and there are no congenial mud banks. Yellow-crowned Night Heron probably also nests somewhere in the neighborhood

Eric Salzman

Murder of Blue Jays?

This morning's racket down at the pond was a Murder of Blue Jays rather than a Murder of Crows and it was noisy enough that I finally went out to investigate. I expected to see the fox but instead an accipiter popped out of the trees and headed straight across the creek. It was big enough to be a young (probably female) Cooper's Hawk.

Now that we're past mid-July almost anything can turn up. This morning's other 'new' bird was a Brown Thrasher -- a species that, like the Cooper's, breeds in the woods north of us. The continued presence of Green Herons in and around the marsh suggests that they may be breeding nearby; earlier there were two birds seen, now mostly one suggesting that the other may be sitting on a nest not far away. Two or three active good-sized flycatchers in the canopy at the edge of the woods facing the water turned out to be, not Eastern Kingbirds as I first thought but Eastern Phoebes.

On the flower front, Wild Geraniums and Venus' Looking-Glass are starting to show their showy blossoms and the mysterious Enchanter's Nightshade has its full complement of small white flowers. Seaside Dragonlets are still all over the marsh but the mud snails that cover the muddy spots and crawl up the stems of the phragmites and other marsh plants are definitely down in numbers.

Eric Salzman

King Stag

A male White-tailed Deer has appeared with the biggest multi-point rack of antlers that I have ever seen. He seems to have a girl friend as well (not exactly surprising considering how well endowed he is!). There has been no sign of the doe (a different female I am sure) and her two fauns since the fox started coming round but King Stag is probably well equipped to take on a pesky fox.

Ring-billed Gulls have appeared in some numbers. They were all over the sand flats at low tide yesterday at Cupsogue and have also appeared here on Weesuck Creek. Although we think of Ring-bills as a common local species, they don't breed here and are actually scarce in the spring and early summer; like the Great Blue Heron and Royal Tern, they appear here in some numbers only in mid-summer. There was a beautiful specimen sitting on a post at a neighbor's dock this morning. I would guess that these birds have a post-breeding molt as this one was in snow-white plumage with dipped-in-ink wing tips, a startling ring of red skin around a pale eye and, of course, bright yellow legs and bill with the eponymous black ring around the bill.

I forgot to mention the loon in non-breeding plumage that was sitting in the ocean near the shore at Cupsogue beach yesterday morning. Alas, it looked much too big to be the Pacific Loon that was recently reported flying by in the area so we'll have to put it down as a summering Common Loon.

I may have finally have figured out one of the skippers. This was a fairly good-sized butterfly flying and perching in the phragmites on the trail up to the head of the marsh. It had a very distinctive orange pattern on the hindwing (a longer orange dash with shorter dashes on each side), whitish spots on the forewing and pale yellowish bars on a dirty yellowish underwing. I think this was a female Broad-winged Skipper, a butterfly that occurs in our area and uses phragmites as a food plant for its larvae.

Eric Salzman

delights of the marsh

Eileen Schwinn and I were heading west on Dune Road this morning when we decided to turn into the Shinnecock marshes on an old baymen's road -- a spot that has traditionally been good for our two marsh sparrows, Saltmarsh and Seaside. But I had barely stepped out of the vehicle when a big bird exploded out of the vegetation: a barrel-chested stripy heron with a long heavy yellow beak and wide somewhat pointy wings. It flapped and soared low over the marsh until it dropped out of sight and out of reach. An American Bittern would not be a surprise in mid-winter but it has been a long time since it was a common sight in these marshes in mid-summer. This bird was somewhat bedraggled and we first thought it might be an immature but on reflection I think it could have just as easily been an adult in post-breeding or early molt mode. American Bitterns once bred in these marshes but this was long before the establishment of the Shinnecock Inlet introduced ocean tides into the bay. Could this bird have been involved in a local breeding attempt? Or are we looking at an early migrant from somewhere else?

Although the Bittern was the morning's highlight, we saw many good birds between the two inlets: Shinnecock to Moriches. Perhaps the most striking sight was at our first stop on the road leading to the bay between Ponquogue Beach and Shinnecock Inlet (Road L?). A tidal pond had been left behind by the falling tide and it must have trapped hundreds of bait fish in the shallow pond. Least Terns, both Egrets, Willets, one or two Yellowlegs and a number of Boat-tailed Grackles were having a field day fishing in the pond. There were Saltmarsh Sparrows, Common Yellowthroats and Willow Flycatcher active in the surrounding marsh. It was, all in all, a striking, not to say awesome sight that even caught the attention of a local fisherman who sounded like he was about to tern . . . uh, turn into a birdwatcher (Eileen even managed to leave him with a copy of the East End Audubon newsletter).

Also on the Shinnecock side there were Clapper Rails in their usual spot near Triton Lane. At Cupsogue we saw Black Terns (at least two), Royal Terns (at least two), Forster's Tern (also two), many Black Skimmers and many Piping Plovers. Short-billed Dowitchers have begun their fall migration and they were there in numbers along with a few Semipalmated Plovers and other shorebirds: Black-billed Plovers, Least Sandpipers, Greater Yellowlegs and all the locals: Willets in big numbers (including at least one big pale Western Willet) and American Oystercatchers. There were Boat-tailed Grackles of all sizes and flavors all the way from Ponquogue to Cupsogue. And there was one Glossy Ibis flying overhead. At Cupsogue, I always see exactly one Glossy Ibis flying overhead.

Common Terns appear to be doing well but Least Tern numbers are down and few of their beachside breeding areas seem to be occupied. Eileen had an awful story about running into someone charging through a clearly marked Least Tern colony with a stick, swiping at the birds who were diving at him and apparently intentionally trying to drive them off. He was very threatening to her when she tried to tell him that what he was doing was wrong and illegal. In general, there is very little care or regard taken for nesting birds on the barrier beach or on the many bay islands. There is no real fencing (only some string), just a few ineffectual signs on the beach and nothing at all on the islands.

Oh yes, we did see Saltmarsh (a.k.a. Sharp-tailed) Sparrows at the Bittern site but no sign of Seaside Sparrow.

Eric Salzman

not-so-reluctant dragonlets

There was a major influx of Seaside Dragonlets this morning. I have been seeing this miniature dragonfly regularly this spring and summer in small numbers in and around the wetlands but this morning they were everywhere. My first thought was that this was a hatch but many, perhaps most of these individuals were all black which is, if I am not mistaken, the 'plumage' of the mature male. There was also a good mix of brightly colored individuals, some with yellow on the upper side of their abdominal segments and more than a few with yellow-and-black striped thoraxes (thoraces?). All with beautifully venated clear wings and a black patch on the upper edge of each wing. A migration? Or some kind of mating assemblage? This last might be seem to be the most likely explanation but I didn't see any actual mating.

Skippers are starting to appear and, as usual, I have had a lot of trouble figuring out what they are. This morning's example was darting around in the phragmites often stopping to perch: a classic medium-sized skipper whose dark upper wings had orange edging on top and an orange stripe coming in through the middle. Maybe Dion's Skipper or something similar.

I was at the martin colony the other day and I could see the young martins sticking their heads out the opening of their nest gourds. In spite of my earlier concerns, the colony seems to be doing okay and a few of the young martins appear to be ready to fly (perhaps some of them are already on the wing).

An Eastern Phoebe has been hanging around the house; the screens, windows and clapboard as well as the pebbly/sandy 'lawn' outside provide some good hunting grounds for insectivorous birds from jays to catbirds to flycatchers to sparrows. They nab spiders (or perhaps spider prey) from the webs that appear in the windows or against the eaves; I don't know what they're getting on the ground

Eric Salzman

smart as a fox

The latest Murder of Crows sent me down to the pond to find the Red Fox once again. In spite of the fact that the little Fox (I am pretty sure it's the same one) was surrounded by screaming Crows, he (she?) was sitting placidly and not moving -- not even running away at my approach. The Crows however scattered and, as soon as they were gone, the Fox stood up and, to my surprise, began to trot towards me! Just before we would have collided on the path, he/she turned suddenly into a rather dense bush and pulled out a carcass and proceeded to devour it! As long as the crows were there, the smart-as-a-fox Fox was unwilling to give away the location of crow-edible prey but after my arrival chased them all away he was content to retrieve his catch right in front of an onlooker who he somehow knew had no interest in stealing his dinner.

What constitutes dinner? I suspect that our Fox has discovered fox heaven in the form of a Muskrat den in the banks of the pond. I hope he is not going to wipe out our Muskrats! But these very beat-up rodent carcasses could also be squirrels -- hard to tell.

Common Yellowthroats are still feeding young at the head of the pond and my arrival still produces a lot of agitata. I spent a little time trying to find the youngsters but, except for the momentary flight of two warbler-sized birds just above bush level, I could not find them (the adults were, of course, as conspicuous as could be).

Not all young birds are so inconspicuous. A Downy Woodpecker with a red cap was a juvenile bird not long out of the nest; adult Downies don't have red caps (the male has a red patch on the back of his head). It does seem odd that a young bird would be more strikingly marked than his elders.

I forgot to mention it but I heard my first cicada of the season this past Saturday during our Grace Estate walk. And I heard what I believe was a different cicada call yesterday afternoon in the woods here just back of the house. But which cicadas were they? Identifying cicada species by their calls is, to say the least, a challenge!

Eric Salzman

oh those flycatchers!

A soft, short trill and a double-note call in the woods near the porch caught my attention yesterday afternoon and I scooted outside to find three small tail-twitching flycatchers hunting in the open understory. These rather plain birds, darting from perch to perch, had wing bars but no visible eye ring and the double-note call was a soft version of the Willow Flycatcher song. AlthoughI have seen all the other Eastern empidonaces in migration, I have never been sure about the Willow; all the 'Traill's' types have always appeared to me to be Alders passing through. The most difficult empid has always been our one local breeding type. This time, I am quite sure these were Willows: a flycatcher family with an adult and young birds. The call was not the full-out 'fitz-bew' that we hear from this bird on the breeding grounds but a softer version of the same, probably used for communication purposes.

Incidentally, most Alders that I see have a narrow but noticeable eye-ring while most local Willows have no visible eye-ring at all. In fact, the confusion species around here is Eastern Wood-Pewee which is only about half an inch larger than a Willow and somewhat similar in structure. But Pewees don't have that two-note call and they don't flick their tails. For some people, empids may be just LBJs (Little Brown Jobs) but, as I suggested in a recent post, flycatchers are actually the most exotic birds around -- true visitors from the tropics! And a challenge to figure out!

Speaking of flycatchers, Great Crested Flycatcher is still active and occasionally calls from the same woodland but there is no visual or audible sign of the Eastern Kingbirds which may have abandoned their attempted nesting in a big old Pitch Pine down at the shore.

This morning's catch included the season's first Spotted Sandpiper on the pond edge, a sure sign of mid-summer. I usually see this species in mid-July but July 9 is probably the earliest date yet (it was an adult bird with a full complement of spots). Also on the pond, was a handsome, breeding-plumaged adult Yellow-crowned Night-Heron; I didn't see the immature that has been here almost daily for the past week. A pair of Rough-winged Swallows has been hawking insects over the pond, calling attention to themselves with their low buzz call -- like a short-circuit. And the Common Yellowthroats are still making a fuss up at the head of the pond.

A non-bird note: I found a chicken mushroom (a beautifully plumaged fungus, not a bird) yesterday and, thanks to Lorna, we had it for dinner in a delicious cream sauce.

Eric Salzman

East Hampton and back

I had to make two round trips to East Hampton yesterday. The second trip was to go to the performance of The Choral Society of the Hamptons of music by Handel and Haydn (which I am reviewing for the E.H. Star). The first trip was to lead "Birding by Ear", a SOFO walk at the Grace Estate. There was a good people turnout for the walk and a good tick turnout as well but not such a good showing by the birds. July 6 is a bit late in the singing season as most birds have nests and/or young at this time and tend to stop singing. And, of course, we managed to pick the hottest day of the year; even by 8 am (the scheduled start of the walk), things had quieted down in the growing heat of the day. Finally, although I regret to say it, I am afraid that the Grace Estate is no longer the outstanding nesting area that it once was.

In spite of all this, we managed to hear a few songs and a fair number of calls -- alarm chips and the like, always a challenge to identify. Among the birds heard (a few were glimpsed as well) were Scarlet Tanager, American Redstart, Prairie Warbler, Common Yellowthroat, Yellow-throated Vireo, Red-eyed Vireo, Great Crested Flycatcher, Eastern Wood-pewee, Rough-winged Swallow, Tufted Titmouse, Black-capped Chickadee, Downy Woodpecker, Red-bellied Woodpecker, American Robin, Carolina Wren, House Wren, American Crow, Red-winged Blackbird, Brown Cowbird, Cedar Waxwing. When you list them like that, it doesn't seem too bad. However distinctly missing were Wood Thrush, Ovenbird, Pine Warbler, Baltimore Oriole, Blue-winged Warbler, Yellow Warbler, White-eyed Vireo, Eastern Phoebe, Blue Jay and other previously known denizens of this woodland. I heard the first three of these from my car window while driving through Northeast going to and from the walk site so some of these species are still in the area. Others may have quieted down as the nesting season advanced.

Eric Salzman

Yellowthroat agita

Yesterday morning, again at the head of the marsh, the female Common Yellowthroat came after me in a state of anxiety, chipping away and circling anxiously. Unlike yesterday, no hummingbirds appeared but Mme. Yellowthroat did get Mr. Yellowthroat's attention and he came in -- once again with a wormlet in his beak -- to join in the chivvying. He flew up and back a couple of times from what I presume would have been the location of the nest or the young birds being fed.

The young Yellow-crowned Night-Heron was on duty at the edge of the pond again and a Great Blue Heron, one of the first of the season, flew up from the side of the creek and crossed to the other side.

Osprey displays continue on the creek with five or six birds in the air at the same time. At least one of these birds carries a fish in its talons and flies high in the sky, calling all the while. He -- I'm assuming, perhaps incorrectly, that it's a he -- sometimes perches on a dead branch on one side of the creek or the other. My guess is that these are young birds and this is some kind of socializing that may eventually lead to new pairings.

Eric Salzman

chases

I have been wondering whether the Crows might have chased the Kingbirds away but the reality seems to be just the opposite. This morning. not one but two Eastern Kingbirds came out of the area where I thought they were trying to nest with the aim of chasing away a couple of corvid marauders. The enemy having been successfully repelled, the Kingbirds returned, one vanishing into the nesting tree, the other taking up a vigil at the top of the oak tree next door. It seems as though it took only a few days for the nest to be constructed and the female may be already sitting on eggs. I cannot see the nest which seems to be buried in dense pine needles on a stout branch jutting out over the creek -- a classic Kingbird nesting spot.

A group of several Downy Woodpeckers was an unusual sight -- you usually see no more than two together and mostly only one at a time. This was, of course, a family group with one or two adults and two or three young 'uns. Two of the latter were constantly scrapping and chasing each other, a raw case of sibling rivalry in the natural world!

The Red Fox was back. The crows and jays put up a fearful racket as the fox was working the pond edge. My arrival on the scene chased the crows and the fox came up from the bank with a dead muskrat -- a hearty meal for a skinny fox. Ignoring my presence, he proceeded to devour his catch and, even when I called Juliette to come down from the house to be a witness, he preferred to ignore us. When he finished his foraging a bit later, he came trotting back up towards the house and disappeared into the woods.

Eric Salzman

P.S.: Labor/Naxos has reissued my "Civilization & Its Discontents" (with Michael Sahl) to some fantastic reviews. Also William Gibson has a major piece about "The Nude Paper Sermon" in the latest issue of 'Signal to Noise' ('The Nude Paper Sermon' and 'Wiretap' will be re-released shortly on Labor/Naxos as part of their on-going issues of my work). You can read these reviews, find links and get other information on my web site or the Labor site

a wet primate, an agitated warbler and a curious hummer

The Fourth opened with an overcast sky and light rain -- not strong enough to stop me from making my rounds through the flourishing trailside vegetation which was now soaking wet, jutting out right into the trail and dumping water on me. Okay, I'm going to get wet. A Common Yellowthroat male at the head of the marsh was very upset at the appearance of this rain-forest primate and it proceeded to chide me with his full range of soft and loud chips as he circled through the shrubs and lower tree limbs, all the while holding an insect in his beak. A sure case of a bird with nestlings or fledlings nearby since (1) the food is intended for the offspring (otherwise, he would gulp it down himself), (2) his noisy and active performance is intended to attract my attention (which it did) and distract me from looking elsewhere, and (3) the calls are a signal to the little ones to lie low. Curiously, all the fuss and feathers attracted a female Ruby-throated Hummingbird which perched quietly right over my head, apparently observing the scene. What was she doing there? This is the best place around here to find hummingbirds but I've never seen anything which would suggest that they might breed nearby.

Eric Salzman

bird vocalizations

A surprisingly long list of birds have just resumed vocalizing suggesting that either their young have fledged or their first nesting attempt failed and they are getting ready to try again. Some of the birds that rejoined the chorus in the past morning or two were Eastern Phoebe, Baltimore Oriole and Blue Jays. Blue Jays don't really sing, of course, but they are normally among the noisiest and most vocal of birds with as astonishing variety of calls, many of which are hardly recognizable as Blue Jay calls (my favorite is what my daughters used to call "the Man from Mars" call -- as in, "Beep, beep-a-deep" "Hey, Dad! The men from Mars are here!") But they are amazingly quiet and furtive in nesting season so the new burst of vocal activity probably means that their current exercise of raising young Jays is over.

Belted Kingfisher is a regular visitor but these days the bird that makes the rounds of the pond and creek is always a male. That leads me to the thought (and hope) that the female is sitting on a nest somewhere. The Yellowlegs that dropped into the pond and then noisily took off for the marsh was probably a Lesser -- by bill size and call -- but whether a he or a she I cannot tell.

Queen Anne's Lace is already in bloom along with a couple of blue guys: chicory and the little blue meadow button that sports the wonderful name of "Sheep's Bit". I had a lot of trouble IDing that one (it is not in the old Peterson "Field Guide to the Wild-Flowers) and I still find the name to be outstanding; try saying it a few times in a row very quickly.

Speaking of bird vocalizations, I'm doing a SOFO walk this Saturday at the Grace Estate on the very topic of "Birding by Ear". Hope the East Hampton birds are starting to sing and call again so we have something to hear. If you're interested call SOFO at 537-9735 or e-mail .

Eric Salzman

tropical birds in our backyard

If you ask someone -- even a knowledgeable birder -- to name some tropical birds that hang around our backyard they would probably start with the Scarlet Tanager and Ruby-throated Hummingbird. Not that these answers would be completely wrong. Tanagers and hummingbirds are two big groups of birds in the American tropics of which only a few species have managed to get north of the border and both of these fit the image of exotic colorful tropical birds (although it turns out that the Scarlet Tanager is probably not a tanager at all but a kind of cardinal!). In any case, there's another, much larger group of species that might seem drab and everyday but truly deserve to be called tropical.

Flycatchers are the biggest bird family in the Western hemisphere and there are almost 400 kinds. When the Panama land bridge reconnected North and South America, the flycatchers were the only native South American 'suboscines' to make it north. What are suboscines? They are a primitive category of songbird which include the many woodcreepers, ovenbirds, antibirds, antipittas and tapaculos, tityras, cotingas, manakins and other truly exotic South American specialties which still dominate the tropical forests and intrigue birders and ornithologists who venture south of the border. Why none of these guys made it north while at least three dozen flycatchers reached our borders is a mystery. But because they did, we have (for at least part of the year) our Kingbird, Phoebe, Pewee and Great Crested Flycatcher not to mention the Willow Flycatcher and its Empidonax cousins, Least, Alder, Acadian and Yellow-bellied, that come through here in migration and present some of the best and most extreme challenges to local bird-watchers. We also get the Boreal Pewee, otherwise known as Olive-sided Flycatcher, as a migrant on its way north. All of these birds go back south in the winter and some of the western and southwestern species occasionally get their compasses out of whack and end up here instead of in the tropics; Montauk is a good place to find these strays (although I once had a Scissor-tailed Flycatcher fly across my windshield while driving on the LIE!). Perhaps the most spectacular example of a flycatcher stray is the Fork-tailed Flycatcher. Birds that breed in the southern temperate zone migrate north in big numbers during the austral winter (that would be our summer) and occasionally overshoot their mark and end up in, of all places, Long Island.

Are the Eastern Kingbirds still working on their nest down at the shore? I haven't seen them for a couple of mornings so either they are quietly sitting on eggs or they have been driven away by the pesky crows who are all over the place these days. I'm hoping it's the former and not the latter.

Eric Salzman

herons & terns

Ayoung night-heron has been hanging out by the pond in the morning, perched in the trees by the water when the pond is full, presumably waiting for the tide to drop. The bird (I assume that I am seeing the same bird every morning) has the long neck and dark, thick bill, orange eye and long, yellow legs of a Yellow-crowned Night-Heron. This is a surprisingly tame bird and it lets me get quite close as it perches on a dead stump out in the open while I edge slowly down the trail; only at the last minute does it fly back into a big old Pitch Pine that offers more cover. There is no question about the ID of this bird but it does have the somewhat scraggly look of a juvenile and I do wonder if this could be a bird of the year. But June does seem very early for a newly-minted heron to be out on its own and night-herons keep their immature plumage well into their second year; so it is probably Class of 2011.

This is not the only heron around. The Great Egrets have increased in number and there are occasional Snowies to be seen. Most notable, I hear the calls of the Green Heron coming from the woods where it may have a nest. The loud calls are the familiar skee-yew alarms but the soft call, almost a coo, is very little known; it isn't mentioned in the guide books and I didn't even recognize it until last year when it took me a while to track it to its source. Nevertheless it is a persistent call, sometimes repeated for some time, and it is probably connected with mating and nesting activities. At least that's what I hope is going on.

The local appearance of mid-sized southern terns continues to be a subject of interest. These digiscoped pictures were taken by Eileen Schwinn on Friday at Cupsogue. One shows a Sandwich Tern (in non-breeding plumage) perched next to a larger Royal Tern (itself unusual this early in the season). The other, presumably of the same bird, nicely shows the yellow tip on the end of its longish narrow bill.

Eric Salzman