a change in the weather

Last night's front marked a real change in the weather. This was the first morning in a while that I could not hear the pounding of the surf from the ocean (which is less than five miles away across the bay). By the end of the morning, the humidity had lifted, the temperature dropped and the clouds parted to reveal blue skies. In the wake of the rain, there were migrants. The flock of American Goldfinches seemed to have increased in size to several dozen -- almost all in immature or winter plumages (I saw one adult male). There were several warblers mixed in including Black-throated Green, Prairie and Ovenbird as well as American Redstart, Common Yellowthroat and Northern Waterthrush; add a Red-eyed Vireo to the list.

A pair of Northern Flickers were displaying as if in the middle of courtship. A similar anomaly involved two Belted Kingfishers at the Town Dock -- one sitting on a pole and the other on a piece of equipment nearby. They were several yards apart but literally staring each other down and one of them at least was vocalizing in a continuous low-pitched rough rattle only occasionally varied by higher pitched interjections, possibly by the other bird. The bird facing me and apparently making most of the noise was a male and I thought it was going to chase off the other bird at any moment but it didn't happen that way. When the birds finally flew, they did a kind of aerial pirouette together, landing once or twice and eventually changing places so that I could see that the second bird was a female. Not agonism or antagonism but amorism. Apparently many birds (particularly residents) start their courtship in the fall.

Over the creek, a single large tern was being crowded by a trio of smaller Laughing Gulls. This barrel-chested, short-tailed tern had pale gray upper parts, dark underneath the primaries, a complete black cap (no sign of a crest) and a heavy scarlet or coral colored bill. In short, a Caspian Tern, not a Royal. It flew up the creek a ways and then back down again and out into the bay. This is only the second or third time that I've seen this species here.

Finally, as I was making my way back to the house, I heard a kind of maniacal laugh coming from the pines over the path. It wasn't difficult to find the author of this half-comical, half-threatening sound: not a Laughing Falcon but a laughing falcon nonetheless. It was a very dark, chocolate Merlin with a flat capped head, eye stripe, dark sideburns, heavily streaked on the front with a striped tail. As I circled for a better look, the bird moved two or three times to different understory perches, continuing to call, never going very far and finally landing out in the open on the big dead stub overlooking the pond. A female or immature Taiga bird and amazingly tame.

Eric Salzman