The Return of the Missing Bird

All is forgiven; the Green Heron must have seen my post yesterday! I reported it as a 'missing species' but this morning it was in one of the dead trees just back of the pond and it flushed with its typical loud raucous protests. I suspect it was waiting for the tide to drop. Maybe it's nesting somewhere else in the area (Pine Neck?) or planning a late nesting around here (we have had young in a woodland nest near the house as late as September).

Gorgeous morning with sky-blue sky (not a cloud in sight). Out in the marsh I flushed a Black-crowned Night Heron and watched a Flicker streak across -- easily recognizable as a woodpecker and confirmed as to species by its white rump easily visible as it crossed in front of me and headed for the other side. A liitle further along, I had three more woodpeckers in the dead trees that surround the head of the marsh: Red-bellied, Downy and the uncommon (at least around here) Hairy, identified by its characteristic tapping, its loud, explosive, repeated 'peek' and its substantial bill, grander than that of its look-alike cousin. Also, that honorary woodpecker, the White-breased Nuthatch was in several locations; now that the family group is broken up, there seem to be nuthatches all over the place.

A brief list of some relatively new arrivals in the flower department: Deptford Pink, Queen Anne's Lace (just starting) and Sheep's Bit (try saying that name very quickly a few times in succession). This last-named, rather common in open sandy areas, is not found in my old Peterson guide and it took me quite a while to figure out what it was. Even so, I am not completely sure of the ID. Jasione montana is native to Eurasia where, as its name suggests, it is considered a plant of high places. But our plant seems to grow in a very different habitat. It turns out that there are something like 14 different species of Jasione and some of them, at least have quite similar flowers.              

Eric Salzman

Brown Thrasher off the missing list

Although I usually write about what turns up around, sometimes it is necessary to recognize what didn't show up. On Monday, it was the Seaside Sparrow, missing from some of its former haunts in the marshes off Dune Road. For our Weesuck Creek property on the opposite side of Shinnecock Bay, the missing bird has been the Green Heron. Butorides virescens has been a presence for many years, nesting on the property or somewhere in the vicinity. Its distinctive calls were part of the soundscape here and young birds-of-the-year could often be found on the muddy edges of the pond. But this year, apart from one brief visit earlier in the spring, this species has been notable for its absence.

One bird that did turn up this morning was the Brown Thrasher. I heard him singing briefly yesterday but couldn't locate him. This morning this dapper third mimid (along with the Northern Mockingbird and Gray Catbird) was perched high in a dead tree at the head of the marsh and singing away at his double-tune anthem. As I've mentioned before, Toxostoma rufum has the reputation of being the world's best songbird, not because the song is so transcendentally beautiful (it's not; its rather throaty tone is pleasant but not gorgeous) but because each phrase in his thrasher repertory is freshly invented (not imitated like the Mocker), then immediately repeated and then never (or hardly ever) heard again; in other words, it keeps on inventing new phrases as it goes along.

The most vocal birds these days are the two big flycatchers: Great Crested and Eastern Phoebe. The latter, a young bird accompanied by a buzzy fee-beeing adult has been around the house all day.

Forster's Terns are still common on the creek, many of them in non-breeding plumage (young birds? adults that have already shed their spring plumage?). As I watch the terns flying on the creek, it becomes easier to recognize the difference between the Forster's and Common Terns in flight, mostly because Forster's looks whiter overall and seems to have a slightly rounder head shape.

And now a mystery: Several loud bell-like calls in pairs ringing around the house, resembling no bird vocalization that I could identify. Perhaps it was an unfamiliar Blue Jay call but there was nothing jay-like about it. Jays and crows (both in the corvid family) are song-less song birds but they have a big variety of vocalizations for various purposes.

Eric Salzman

many shades of white

Why are so many of the birds on the creek so resplendent in various shades of white? This morning I saw Common, Forster's and Least Terns, one more white than the other. And, of course, both Great abd Snowy Egrets are white, white, white. All the terns specialize in whiteness; the gulls less so but both Herring and Black-backed Gulls are mostly white underneath. Although there are notable exceptions (the Double-crested Cormorant is an obvious one), there must be an evolutionary advantage to the color white in fish-eating water birds that has resulted in so many having adopted the color white, at least underneath if not more extensively. Perhaps, in some way, it dazzles the underwater prey and prevents them from seeing the doom that awaits them from above.

The continuing presence of Forster's Terns is notable. I recognize the adults by the white flash of the primaries that these birds show in flight on their two-tone upper wings. Today there was a young bird showing a bit of brown, a lot of white and, in particular, a white dove-like head, with a black cheek patch. Could this bird have fledged around here or did it come -- with an adult in a manner similar to the Royal Terns -- from further west or south?

Speaking of young birds, a young Eastern Phoebe (it had the smile line at the of its bill, a sure sign of a fledgling bird -- was hunting in the woods back of the house. This youngster was almost certainly born around here although he/she had clearly graduated to some level of self-sufficiency.

One observation that I omitted from yesterday's account of birding on Dune Road with John Leo and Eileen Schwinn: a female Black Duck leading half a dozen chicks across an open muddy area between two islands of Spartina marsh. Good to know that the native Black Duck has not been totally wiped out by the introduced Mallard.

Eric Salzman

a birding visitor

John Leo came over from Mecox early this morning and we birded briefly on our marsh (Ruby-throated Hummingbird by the pond; Black-crowned Night Herons on the dead cedar by the pond and flying over the marsh). Shortly thereafter we were joined by Eileen Schwinn for a trip in Eileen's Jeep to Shinnecock Inlet and a birding ride west on Dune Road. Dune Road early on a weekday morning is very pleasant (and uncrowded) and the weather was very cooperative: sunny with a light breeze to freshen things up. Although the visit was very low on shorebirds (with only the breeding Willets, Piping Plovers and American Oystercatchers in evidence), we had very nice looks at some good birds; Clapper Rail, Black-crowned Night Heron, Glossy Ibis, Willow Flycatcher, Saltmarsh Sparrow and Boat-tailed Grackle were the standouts. Other birds seen included Common Yellowthroat, Yellow Warbler, many egrets of both flavors, plus the usual gulls, Least and Common Terns, Red-wings, Common Grackles, etc. An Eastern Towhee at the little Quogue Refuge boardwalk was a bit of a surprise (we tend to think of the Towhee as a woodland bird). Ditto a Brown Thrasher in the vegetation between Dune Road and the bay. No Royal Terns and no Seaside Sparrow, a 'marsh sparrow" that was one of our special breeding birds but that I fear has been extirpated from our area.

I had birded once before with John many years ago when we trespassed on the Ron Lauder property in Amagansett in order to find nesting Bobolinks (we found young birds not long out of the nest) and did a late evening watch for nesting Barn Owls at a farm north of the highway in Bridgehampton (we never saw the owl). Our birding companion on that far-away jaunt was Nora Ephron!

Eric Salzman

nesters?

I was down at the pond and into the marsh at an early hour this morning and as I was scanning the open water area in the middle, I saw what looked like a strange duck swimming across. As it reached a shallow area and started to walk, I realized that it was no duck but something even better: a Clapper Rail. After some desultory picking -- catching insects I assume -- it crossed to an open mud bank where it sunned itself for a few minutes and then proceeded to do its toilette for 20" or so before it suddenly disappeared after I turned head for a moment. A Clapper Rail in the last week of June and considering previous sightings and sounds -- at one point I saw two rails -- makes the likelihood of nesting extremely high. We had a Virginia Rail nesting that produced a single chick some years back and Clappers nested in the Pine Neck marsh last year but, if it is really happening, this is a new record for our side.

A young Eastern Phoebe accompanied by an adult was at its previous location near a neighbor's house (where I think it nested somewhere under the building's multiple eaves). The Phoebe and the White-breasted Nuthatch are, as far as I know, both new nesters in our area.

Royal Terns were on the creek this morning and they are being reported from many areas all the way from Brooklyn to Great Gull Island in the Sound off Orient Point. Something is going on here and I would expect nesting evidence from somewhere in the very near future. Ditto Forster's Terns, also part of the expansion of southern species into our area.

Eric Salzman

law'n'order

I think I'm about due to write my anti-lawn diatribe so here it is. The problems with lawns are as follows:

1) they replace natural vegetation with a manufactured landscape made out of artificially cultivated grasses from lord knows where

2) they are inimical to most wildlife for a host of reasons (see below)

3) they are often terrible polluters, largely because of the amounts of chemicals that are employed; the chemicals destroy everything on the surface except the grass and then leach down into the water table, severely polluting our tap water but also our bays and wetlands.

4) they are also noise polluting to an extraordinary degree, especially when the landscape crews arrive at 7 am with their loud lawn mowers and leaf blowers

5) they are expensive to maintain and potential health hazards (see No. 3 above)

6) they need inordinate amounts of water (to compensate for dry seasons and sandy soils that let any surface water right right through) and the water is extracted from our sole source aquifer

7) In my opinion, they are not attractive (a sort of slice and dice approach to landscaping) and they are not really suitable to our climate and soils (which is partly why they are expensive, hard to maintain and inimical to native plants and wildlife). Lawns were invented in Britain where the climate is perpetually wet and where sheep and other livestock were used to keep the grass short. American lawns are a pathetic attempt to emulate the great British estates on a suburban lot and in a drastically unsuitable environment.

There, I got that off my chest!

Eric Salzman

en garde!

We have a number of noisy Willets on the creek as well as in and around our marsh. They are certainly breeding in the area but I am not sure where (I have found a Willet nest on Dune Road but never on our side of the bay). These big sandpipers seem to me to be semi-colonial and they defend a territory -- a marsh for instance -- as a cooperative venture with more than one bird shrieking and diving at the intruder. Another feature of Willet territory is that they post a sentinel to survey the area and warn of potential trouble. I have seen Willets rout an accipiter from our marsh. On Dune Road, the guard Willets will perch precariously on the phone/electric wires to perform this service, something that seems to me to be rather extraordinary (I've never heard of it anywhere else) We don't have any wires so a dead Red Cedar on the far side of the pond serves the purpose (see attached photo). I don't know if the bird that is inevitably at this post is always the same one or if several different Willets share the duties. What I have noticed is that this sentinel no longer regards me as a threat and remains at his post quietly in my presence whether I am walking, standing or sitting (I keep a chair by the pond directly opposite the dead tree).
Yesterday I was sitting on the chair waiting for a friend who had crossed over to explore the creek shore while the Willet on guard sat quietly, apparently surveying the scene. Suddenly she or he dropped down into the pond and, after dipping in the water a few times, managed to catch a fairly decent sized fish which he/she then wrestled to devour with his longish but relatively thin beak. Willet beaks are substantial for an oversize sandpiper but they are not Osprey beaks so he/she had to swallow that fish whole. A most serious challenge. After dropping the fish a few times and recapturing it, he managed to juggle it and chomp on it in such a way that it went down his/her gullet.

Here is a short list of some of the flowers that are coming into bloom: Catalpa, roses (Pasture Rose and Rambler Rose; Multiflora Roses are almost finished), Day Lilies, Vine Honeysuckle, Venus' Looking-glass, Blue Toadflax, at least two kinds of thistle (only one beginning to flower), several kinds of clover, Daisy Fleabane and more than one kind of hawkweed.

Eric Salzman

Swifts, turtles & deer

There are four Chimney Swifts flying above and around an extensively be-chimneyed house on Bay Avenue which backs up onto the upper part of our marsh. I watched the Swifts in action this morning with their fluttery bat-like flight and extensive glides as they hunted for insects. I was hoping to see at least one of them dropping into a the chimney to feed young on a nest but no luck; it didn't happen on my watch and, after waiting patiently for fifteen minutes or so, I gave up.

In the aftermath of the recent thunderstorms, I found yet another Box Turtle, this one easily recognizable by its big size and overwhelmingly yellow carapace with only reduced black markings. We have two deer families on the place (a deer family consists of a doe and its offspring): one with two spotted fauns, the other with a single. There is also a mature male with a full rack of antlers and a younger one (the one that followed me around for a couple of days) just now growing its horns. The males don't generally hang out with the females and young, which form little groups on their own.

Eric Salzman

first day of summer

A beautiful first day of summer followed by a clear evening with fireflies a-flitting and glowing beneath the Strawberry Moon rising above the bay (looked a little reddish to me but apparently the name has to do with the season not the color). The first night of summer did not stay clear as thunderstorms rolled in and intermittent showers continued into the morning, forcing me to cut short my usual morning walk.

Tom Campanella, a distinguished author and urbanist, came to visit us yesterday and it turned out that he also has a keen interest in the natural world (he teaches at Cornell which is also the home of the famous Laboratory of Ornithology). We walked down to the pond in the late morning at a time when I would have thought everything would be quiet but there was some striking activity beyond the expected swallows, egrets, Willets and Osprey. The tide was low and, to my surprise, a Yellow-crowned Night Heron came zipping in across the marsh, landing on a mudbank right in front of us; it was the first of the year for me. The bird stood stock still, showing no sign of anxiety at our presence, as if it were calmly awaiting our departure before getting to its important heron business. You don't often get such a close-up look at this bird, a night heron in the middle of the day no less; its crown was barely tinged with yellow and still sported the remains of two nuptial plumes.

Eventually we left this magnificent creature to its own devices and took a walk into the marsh. Another surprise. A Clapper Rail was calling from opposite side of the marsh. It called at least three or four times but as much as I scanned the now fast-growing Spartina and the thin stand of Phragmites beyond, I could not find the bird. Clappers were present here earlier in the spring (I even caught two birds sunning themselves early one morning) and I had hopes that they might breed but this was the first evidence of their continuing presence.

A footnote: in the mid-morning as I was driving east on Montauk Highway just past upper Weesuck Creek, I saw a Turkey Vulture soaring overhead. The wings and tail were in bad shape with many missing or broken feathers but this TV could still fly in classic vulture style with uptilted wings. The damage to this bird's plumage could very likely have been due to the rigors of nesting, especially as Turkey Vultures tend to nest in confined spaces. Could there be a nest somewhere in the vicinity? Cathartes aura has started to breed on Long Island in recent years but the question remains open as to how far the big birds will travel from their nest site in search of food.

Eric Salzman

flycatcher, flubs & terrapins

All three of our larger flycatchers were active here in the past couple of days. Great Crested Flycatcher is still moving around the place; this morning, it was on the far side of the marsh with a second bird -- a young one? -- nearby. Similarly, the Eastern Phoebe was hunting in the area between a neighbor's house and a right-of-way just off the property. There were at least two birds -- one adult and one probable young bird hunting in the understory and findable by their typical soft cheeps and regular sallies through the lower limbs and leaves. The third flycatcher was the Eastern Kingbird who paid us a brief visit and then disappeared. Kingbirds have nested here in the past and the hope is that they might do so again.

Other birds of the morning: Red-eyed Vireo in canopy of the woods next to the house; Yellow Warbler back again at the nead of the marsh along with the two Yellowthroats; a curiously yellow-and-black Baltimore Oriole (only the upper breast tending towards orange).

Some corrections and additions to recent posts:

--I made an absurd mistake in a recent post. The plant that has taken over part of the old-right-of-way is not a cactus but a thistle. Well, both are rather prickly!

--Eileen tells me that Horned Lark should have been added to Saturday's Linnaean trip day list. The bird was a flyover at EPCAL but indubitably an individual of our only native lark species (which breeds at EPCAL).

--Also, I should mention that the highlight of Saturday's trip was, in many ways, not a bird but two -- not one but two -- Diamondback Terrapins trying to cross Dune Road. The first one was headed from the bay side to the ocean side and was in real danger of being run over. After ascertaining that it was not a Snapping Turtle, one of our hardy crew picked it up and delivered it to the base of the dunes where it will, no doubt, lay its eggs well beyond the dangerous road (we can only hope that it makes it back into the bay). As if that were not excitement enough, a short distance further west there was another Terrapin crossing the road, this time in the opposite lane and heading towards the bay (perhaps it had already laid its eggs). As there was a car barreling down the road (an amazing number of drivers use Dune Road as their personal Nascar speedway), there was nothing to do but wait and hold our breath. The car managed to straddle the turtle, leaving it completely unharmed. Everybody breathed a sigh of relief while the turtle, now really freaked, literally raced across the road to safety, letting us breathe again and continue our trip without further fear of terrapin tragedy.

Happy Summer!
 
Eric Salzman

Linnaean Society trip

Yesterday was Linnaean Day. Every year at about this time, I lead a trip for members of the Linnaean Society, a natural history organization (the second oldest in this country) affiliated with the American Museum of Natural History. This trip is usually concerned with the specialties of our area and so it begins, naturally enough, at the Shinnecock Inlet watching terns and gulls and looking for the odd late wintering duck or off-shore oceanic species. It then proceeds along Dune Road with appropriate stops at some of the bay pullouts looking for birds of marsh and bay. This part of the trip ends up in the Westhampton Dunes area (Pike's Beach and/or the Overlook and/or Cupsogue County Park. The afternoon is spent upland looking for grassland and allied species. We were joined by Eileen Schwinn and, since I had to cut out shortly before noon, I left the upland part of the trip to her.

Here's a trip list that includes all the of the birds that we saw down at the shore and the birds that Eileen reports were seen at Westhampton (Gabreski) Airport and EPCAL (ex-Grumman). The latter locale had been taken over by some kind of fund-raiser so, although they were able to get access to the western runway (where much of the good remaining grassland can be found), they had somewhat limited success battling the crowds and loud music. Some target birds were missed, notably Horned Lark, Blue Grosbeak and Seaside Sparrow (reported to be way down in numbers) as well as Vesper & Savannah Sparrows, Next time!

Double-crested Cormorant
Great Egret
Snowy Egret
Black-crowned Night Heron
Glossy Ibis
Mute Swan
Mallard
Osprey
Wild Turkey (seen by me on my way out)
Black-bellied Plover (all birds in non-breeding plumage)
Piping Plover (at least two different birds)
American Oystercatcher (several at different locations)
Willet (common every in bay marshes0
Ruddy Turnstone (two or three at Tiana)
Dunlin (single bird in breeding plumage at Tiana)
Least Sandpiper (4 birds at Tiana)
Black-backed Gull
Herring Gull
Common Tern
Forster's Tern
Least Tern
Mourning Dove
Willow Flycatcher (singing bird near Shinnecock Inlet)
Great Crested Flycatcher (EPCAL)
Eastern Kingbird (EPCAL)
American Crow
Fish Crow (by sound)
Barn Swallow
Tree Swallow
American Robin
Gray Catbird
Northern Mockingbird
Brown Thrasher
European Starling
Yellow Warbler
Praire Warbler (heard at EPCAL)
Pine Warbler (EPCAL)
Common Yellowthroat
Northern Cardinal
Song Sparrow
Chipping Sparrow (heard on Dune Road)
Grasshopper Sparrow (EPCAL)
Saltmarsh Sparrow (see at two locations)
Song Sparrow
Eastern Meadowlark (heard only at EPCAL)
Brown-headed Cowbird (EPCAL)
Red-winged Blackbird
Common Grackle
Boat-tailed Grackle
House Finch
American Goldfinch
House Sparrow

If there's anything missing, perhaps someone who was there (particularly at EPCAL) can let me know.

Eric Salzman

cactus vs. car

The two Great Crested Flycatchers -- I'm pretty sure it's the same two that I've seen in the last couple of days -- continue to make the rounds together, completing a circuit of the wooded areas while always flying and hunting below the canopy (which makes them easy to see). Other 'special' birds still hanging out in the neighborhood include the post-breeding White-breasted Nuthatch, American Goldfinch, Pine Warbler (always in the canopy) and  Common Yellowthroat (actually two birds, one rather quiet and the other singing constantly). The Yellow Warbler seems to have decamped for Pine Neck on the eastern side of Weesuck Creek; if the wind is right, I can hear him singing on the far shore. Cuckoo calling; couldn't find him but I'm sure it was a Yellow-billed.

A big stand of cactus is coming up in the middle of the old right-of-way. It is a magnet for insects including a spider, many ants, some kind of aphids and a handsome orange Ladybug. Alas, the main stand is going to be mowed down by my internal combustion engined vehicle as most of the fallen wood has been cleared and the track is now available for fossil fuel intervention.

Eric Salzman

one way of looking at a blackbird but not a warbler

Cloudy calm morning effectively ended the recent series of windy blue-sky days. Although the tide was high this morning it was a so-called 'neap' tide -- much lower than the high 'spring' tides of past weeks (apparently the term 'spring tide' does not necessarily refer to the season). I could still walk out onto the marsh and was again attacked by Red-winged Blackbirds, this time both male and female. The birds squawk a lot and dive at the intruder (me) but always pull up short. The female landed nearby two or three times and I could see a juicy green worm in her beak. But she would not go in to feed her offspring for fear of giving away their location. I was simultaneously trying to follow a smallish brown-and-white swallow that was feeding over the marsh with the Chimney Swift, Barn Swallows and Purple Martins; it was either a Bank or a Rough-winged Swallow but I couldn't quite figure it out and I finally gave in to the Red-wing admonishments and left the scene.

A Chipping Sparrow and a Pine Warbler were trading songs and provided an opportunity to compare these very similar sounds, both short single-note trills repeated over and over at intervals of some seconds. The Chipper seem to lead and I would say his trill was slightly longer and somewhat more mechanical. The warbler would follow almost immediately with a trill that was marginally shorter and a bit more melodious with a slight drop in pitch at the end. Not all that much of a difference. A better clue was that the Pine Warbler was singing from near the tree-tops and often moved around. The trees were generally Pitch Pine but he also sometimes picked a deciduous tree; as I mentioned in earlier posts, we lost many of our pines to heavy storms but this Setophaga pinus seemed to know exactly where to find the survivors. I actually tried to get a good look at this warbler but he remained totally hidden in the high foliage except when he decided to zip out of his hiding place and streak over to another one. This ended up as a wild warbler chase but, except for the few moments in the open air (when I could see it was no sparrow), the bird entirely defeated me. All I can say for sure is that it was a warbler singing a trilly Pine Warbler song. This species has been regular in the past few years and has probably nested somewhere out of sight at the top of a local pine; I hope that it will continue to do so!     

Eric Salzman

bird hairdos & champion songsters

Two Great Crested Flycatchers came by the house this morning, one with a lot of yellow and strikingly crested, the other with less yellow and a round, uncrested head. Perhaps one is the male and the other the female? Or an adult and a young one? Or simply one male highly agitated (e.g. the punk hairdo) at the intrusion of a rival male into his territory? Not sure how to tell.

Still with us: Eastern Phoebe, White-breasted Nuthatch, Pine Warbler and Common Yellowthroat, No sign of the Yellow Warbler for the past couple of days.

The 2016 Weesuck Song Prize goes to the House Wren. This is not a prize for melodiousness or creativity but for persistence. This bird or these birds (there are two or three of 'em) start singing at daybreak and continue their loopy bubbly song all morning without a break. After lunch, they often pick up as well, sometimes moving through the underbrush, sometimes taking a higher spot to broadcast their intentions. They never seem to sit still for more than a song length -- a second or two at their high metabolism. Carolina Wrens are loud, emphatic and moderately persistent singers but, for now at least, they have been surpassed by their wren relatives.

Eric Salzman

marauders

Another cool cloudless morning with some wind (but a bit less than yesterday's heavy gusts).

My favorite seat by the pond, with its wideview of creek, marsh and bay, has been fruitful. Yesterday's bird of the day was a hummer, picking insects off the Ivo and Baccharis bushes, almost in front of my nose. Today's featured birds were a Black-crowned Night Heron dropping into the middle of the marsh and a bird hawk flushed up from the middle of the marsh by two very angry Willets. This smallish accipiter -- it may be the same one I saw a couple of days ago being chased by Red-wings -- high-tailed it across the marsh to the south and disappeared into a clump of trees. I would normally call a sleek small hawk like this a Sharp-shinned but this species is rare on LI at this time of year (I once investigated the subject and could not find a confirmed breeding record for the island; our breeding accipiter is the Cooper's Hawk which has been increasing here for a number of years). So I have to admit the possibility that the bird is a male Cooper's (the males of many raptors are noticeably smaller than the females and the male Cooper's is not that much bigger than the female Sharp-shinned!). Both times, the bird was far and moving fast, making further ID difficult. I'll keep looking for it.

Speaking of Red-wing vs. raptor. the tailless male Red-wing at the head of the marsh that I mentioned before is not such a weak flyer as I thought. Adult crows, now with their newly launched fledglings around, have become very prominent and commonly perch on dead stubs in said Red-wing's territory. The prominence of these big black birds (we can call them honorary raptors) enrages the blackbird and, tail or not, he goes after the crows with vim and vigor. They are several times bigger than he is with large dangerous beaks but that doesn't daunt No-tail, who does his best to chase them away, His advantage is aerial dexterity which makes you wonder why these birds need tails anyway.

Eric Salzman

high wind in East Quogue

High winds came up yesterday during the day and continued all night into this morning abating somewhat only as the sun warmed things up. In this kind of weather, the usual assumption is that the big soaring birds (raptors, gulls) flourish while the little ones hunker down. But it wasn't completely true. While I was sitting by the pond (yes I put a chair out on the bank), I saw my first Ruby-throated Hummingbird of the season flitting from bush to bush -- a female, presumably nabbing insects and possibly, just possibly, feeding its babies in a nest somewhere near. Also, in spite of the damage to our pines, the Pine Warbler was working its way around, mostly in oak trees. I recently heard someone say that they have never seen a Pine Warbler except in pine trees but 'our' Pines manage to work the oaks as well when they run out of pines.

Flowers currently in bloom: Rhododron (in flower for quite a while now and beginning to fail), irises (Yellows and Blues, the latter close to our native Blue Flag); Arrowwood (a native Viburnum) and a few other garden flowers or garden escapes.

Butterflies have been scarce but Tiger Swallowtails seem to be able to fly in the wind. Also seen: Red Admiral and at least two different skippers -- one in the marsh and the other holding a kind of territory in a sunny area between the main house and the barn.

Eric Salzman

my way

I'll take advantage of a quiet (warm but windy) day to describe the territory that I usually cover every morning, spring to fall. This 10.5 acre East Quogue property is on Weesuck Creek at the point where it opens out and empties into Shinnecock Bay; opposite is the Pine Neck sanctuary, formerly belong to the De Ropp family and now a Nature Conservancy sanctuary. Our 10.5 was acquired from the Randall family (or a subsequent real estate investor who was going bankrupt) by my parents in the 1940s and consiste of about half wetlands, half uplands that had been cleared. Over the years, the upland areas grew back into woodlands dominated by Red Cedar, Pitch Pine and various oaks. More recently, Mockernut Hickory has replaced the oaks as the dominant tree over part of the woods. Red Maple and Tupelo have flourished in wet areas or where the water table is close to the surface. All of these trees, but especially the Pitch Pines, were severely impacted by Irene and Sandy particularly where they were exposed around the edges of the marsh. The marsh itself is formed around fresh water in the form of an old stream that used to originate north of Montauk Highway but now consists mostly of underground flow. The edge is fringed by a shrub layer consisting mostly of Ivo and Baccharis and there is a fair amount of invasive Phragmites. The main marsh grass is now Spartina alterniflora with a smaller area of S. Patens. The stream flow is still obvious at the top of the marsh -- what I call the head of the marsh -- but widens out into an open water area and then narrows again, making a turn north into a stable pond which, in turn, has a narrow exit north into Weesuck Creek. This entire stretch has a two-way flow with salt water coming in on the twice-a-day high tides that flow through the main stream bed but also, at very high tides, through a couple of secondary break-throughs. The far edge of the marsh, bordering Weesuck Creek, is enclosed by a miniature dune line interrupted only by one of those tidal break-throughs. Unless you are willing to wade through water at one end of the pond or the other or brave some marsh muck, this part of the property is only easily reachable from Bay Avenue across the town park that hosts our big Purple Martin colony.

My usual morning path takes me from the house though a lightly wooded area (many dead trees) down to the pond where I can survey the creek, part of bay and most of the marsh. I then follow a path along the edge of the marsh; depending on the tide, I either head straight out to the middle of the marsh -- a great spot with a 360 degree view
-- or keep skirting the edge. This turns right (west) following the narrowing wetlands to the head of the marsh where there is a formerly wooded area now opened up by storms and dominated by a mix of live trees, dead standing wood and lots of shrubs; some of the best birds are here. The path cuts into the woodland edge and out onto the old, original right-of-way near the point where it turns west to join Randall Lane. Now I can take that old right-of-way back to the house or continue onto Randall Lane and then through another patch of woods and another right-of-way out onto Weesuck Avenue by the back lot of Aldrich Boat Yard. This is partially wooded and partially open (they use the back lot to store boats) and often has good birds! To find my way back to the property, I can go to the end of Weesuck Avenue and then work my way along the creek shore; but if the tide is too high I have to trespass across a neighbor's yard. The woods here are what I call our 'north woods' and there is a path at the property line that leads down to a neighbor's dock situated at the mouth of the outflow from our pond -- another good spot to survey the creek. The part of these woods that faces the pond is much beat up by recent storms but I make my way across to a path along the edge of the pond and then, having completed a fairly large circle, I turn back toward the house. If I have the time and the prospects are good, I make a final small circuit by cutting through the woods to go up and back on the old right-of-way, ending at our driveway which is a sort of wooded glade in back of the house. 

Eric Salzman

A Murder of Crows, Red-wings on the attack

A "murder of crows": the gathering of American Crows and the huge racket then ensues when they harass a potential enemy (especially during breeding season). When I hear it, I rush over to see what they have found. Crows are expert in the discovery of a lurking hawk or owl, hiding in dense tree foliage. Thanks to the crows, I have found many hard-to-find raptors but it's not always a rare predator that causes all the ruckus. Sometimes I see nothing and have to conclude that all the outrage is directed at me.  Unknowingly, I have passed too close to a crow nest or fledgling. This morning was even more of a letdown; it was a cat. Crow outrage at the presence of a stalking feline is however quite justified. Outdoor cats kill literally millions of birds; bird-hunting is apparently built into the DNA of Felis catus.

The irony of the moment was enhanced by the presence of several Red-winged Blackbirds dive-bombing the Crows and trying to drive them away; Crows and their Blue Jay cousins are notorious nest robbers themselves and the Red-wings know it!

Red-wings can be very intolerant of large intruders. Just yesterday, I saw one harassing a perched Osprey right near the Osprey nest platform. Osprey do not normally predate passerines or passerine nests but apparently can be mistaken for more dangerous large raptors. Usually the male Red-wings do the dive-bombing but this morning I was attacked by a squawking female as I sauntered down the edge-of-the-marsh trail; there must have been a nearby nest with young or fledglings in the dense brush that borders the trail. After a bit, the racket attracted a curious tailless male -- probably the "owner" of the plot whose territorial and amorous exertions had caused him to lose his steering mechanism; he made a halfhearted effort to chase me away before taking off. 

A Northern Mockingbird has been hanging around the place, probably a singleton from one of the nearby Mocker territories on Bay or Weesuck Avenues. A small mixed flock of males and female House Finches suggests that this species is recovering from the epidemic of disease that decimated its populations a few years ago. House Finches have a checkered history on Long Island and in the Eastern US in general. As a southwestern species, this bird was not even mentioned in the classic Peterson and other Eastern guides so local birders were calling them Purple Finches, the closest match that was illustrated in their field guides. But they were not Purple Finches which do occur here but mostly in migration and are, at best, very rare breeders in the Pine Barrens. In contrast, the new birds were suddenly numerous at feeders and in populated areas generally, nesting in garden shrubbery or even in flower pots or dense ivy. When they were finally revealed as House Finches, the speculation was that these birds, which first appeared on Long Island, stemmed from a pet dealer who released his illegal stock of the bird to avoid arrest (it is illegal to keep native birds in captivity). The birds, obviously relishing their freedom, found the inhabited habitats of LI to their liking and bred furiously, eventually colonizing the island, New York City and the whole Northeast. As the populations spread west, they eventually met up and merged with the burgeoning Western populations which were spreading north and east from their original Southwestern strongholds, forming a single coast-to-coast, Canada-to-Mexico population. However they got here, they are so well entrenched, even with their health problems, that it is hard not to think of them as native birds.

Eric Salzman

the babies are out

A baby Gray Squirrel burrowing under its mother and suckling while the mother combed and groomed its backside! I've squirrels going into and coming out of a knot hole in that tree so the baby was probably born there.

Black-capped Chickadees were out in force this morning following their relatives, the titmice, by one day. Again these birds have been silent of late but now that the babies are out any flying they are free to resume their two-note whistled spring song.

There are two Yellowthroat territories. One bird, perched on a dead branch, sat right in front of me on the brushy marsh edge while the other was singing merrily along further up at the head of the marsh. These might well be the two males that were chasing each other around last month, having now settled their dispute by dividing up the territory. At least one of these birds, perhaps both, has a mate.and probably a nest hidden somewhere in the dense Ivo and Baccharis brush.

Eric Salzman

on a cool windy spring morning

I'm wondering if the mysterious Purple Martin "dawn song" isn't due to early bird Martins flying high just before dawn to feed on the insects that travel high. I think it's now well known that there is a whole insect/spider sky population-in-transit that travels at skyscraper heights -- with wings or with spider silk or maybe even just carried by the wind on a day like this (there was an article about this recently in -- I think -- the NY Times Real Estate section!). Martins often are the highest-flying of the swallows and they definitely vocalize in flight while they are doing their aerial feeding. Early-bird feeding in a habitat where they have no competition might be just the thing, especially since pre-dawn light and even dawn itself comes much sooner up there while we are still in shadow.

Picked out a lone Bank Swallow feeding over the marsh with the Martins and Barn Swallows. Got a good look at the dark breast band (not always as prominent as it appears in the field guides). First one I've seen this year.

Eastern Phoebe still in the neighborhood and calling full voice. I now think the nest may be in an abandoned structure on the back lot of the Aldrich Boatyard across Weesuck Avenue.

I spent a lot of time this morning trying to locate the source of an unfamiliar call. It was, as I suspected, a young Robin on the ground signaling its location to the parents who, would not come while I was in the vicinity. Eventually I did manage to spot the hatchling, confirmed that it was a baby Robin, and then beat a hasty retreat. The adults were in the neighborhood, repeatedly dashing around but not daring to come in until my departure.

Eric Salzman

Titmice abounding

The local Tufted Titmice (Titmouses?) came out of hiding today and could be heard all morning, starting before dawn when they joined the pre-dawn chorus of Purple Martins and House Wrens and continuing up until the rans came in the afternoon. According to the traditional bird guides, the Titmouse say "Pee-ter, pee-ter, pee-ter" but our titmice make a wide variety of sounds and rarely anything like "Pee-ter". In fact, if you hear an odd woodland sound and can't identify it, it likely comes from a Tufted Titmouse.

Where were these cute little birds hiding until now? I believe that they were attending to a nest full of eggs somewhere in a tree knot or old woodpecker hole. When birds are nest sitting, the parents tend to be quiet and sneak in and out of the nest in order to keep potential predators from finding its location. After the young are born, the adults are both free to look for food and, as the hatchlings grow, the searching and feeding activity gets more active and more frantic (the clutch can be over half a dozen so their work is cut out for them). If this scenario is accurate, the young will be out and flying with the adults in a little over two weeks.

A male Baltimore Oriole was broadcasting his orioley notes from the top of Sandy-killed Pitch Pines this morning. These were mostly two note phrases with an occasional longer melodic bit -- as if he were warming up to his full song (which, as is well known, never comes). This is probably not the oriole with a more elaborate repertoire of phrases heard earlier this spring but another bird looking for oriole love. Have not seen any females around at all (perhaps they are -- I hope -- on a nest somewhere in the vicinity).

Both Yellow Warbler and Yellowthroat singing this morning. Unlike the pre-dawners, both of these birds seem to get up and around rather late after sunrise, perhaps when the sun catches the vegetation and dries the morning dew.    

Eric Salzman

clear, dry, sky-blue

Beautiful, clear, dry, sky-blue morning. The Red-eyed Vireo is still with us -- assuming it's the same bird and not a succession of visitors. So are the White-breasted Nuthatches although the family seems to have split up. Common Yellowthroat singing away but not the Yellow. On the creek, a Mallard mom with one little duckling. I'm trying not to be sentimental about this (the Mallard isn't even an indigenous species around here; it was introduced by hunters to give them something to hunt after the Black Duck was nearly wiped out). But what happened to the other dozen ducklings?

In spite of the lack of any hint of rain, dew or humidity, there was were two Box Turtles right out in my path. I've seen more Box Turtles this spring than I usually see in a year.

I made a mistake in my last piece on flowering plants in our vicinity. I listed Multiflora Rose which may be blooming somewhere but not here just yet. The big white low loopy flowers that are all over the place -- notably at the edge of rough tangles -- are the blossoms of Rubus Blackberry and hopefully the forerunner of some lucious wild fruit.

More on flowers as soon as I can tear myself away from the birds.

Eric Salzman

terns, warblers & wrens

There were Royal Terns on the creek this morning along with Common and Forster's Terns. One of the Forster's was in some kind ofjuvenile or non-breeding plumage with a black face patch -- the way we usually see these birds in late summer and fall. It does seem unlikely that this was a bird of the year (already bred and flying out of some southern colony?). But would a yearling bird still retain this plumage? At any rate, it made it easy to distinguish it as a Forster's.

An Osprey returning to the nest with a large fish in its talons and the exertions of the terns prove that there still are finny prey to be found on the creek.

Red-eyed Vireo was back with his incessant question-and-answer song in a big oak tree back of the house. I could see it capture a worm, beat to death and then gulp it down. Red-eyes nest in many woodland areas on LI but they are usually just visitors in migration around here. As with the White-breasted Nuthatch (still around), perhaps he'll find a mate and proceed to breed. Background sound was provided by the 'screep' of the Great Crested Flycatcher who generally hangs out in our north woods and always makes his presence known by his ubiquitous calls. He is also a potential breeder.

Both Yellowthroat and Yellow Warbler were in full song at the upper edge of the marsh giving the lie to my theory that they alternate days. Another bird that's in full song right now is the American Goldfinch. It has two types of songs; short and long. At this point, it seems to favor the long song which is a fascinating medley of twitters and tweets, bells and whistles with an occasional 'potato chip' call like the one it gives in flight. This really seems like a non-stop goldfinch monologue and, unlike many bird songs, rather formless. Nevertheless it seems to be appreciated by lady Goldfinches which is what counts.

The most persistent singer in the past few days has been the House Wren whose bubbly exhortations to his fellow wrens, male and female, start well before dawn and go non-stop through the morning and even early afternoon before he lets up. There might be more than one wren involved. If it's just one bird, he covers a remarkable amount of territory in his quest for real estate and love. In the meanwhile, the Carolina Wrens, loudly vocal this spring, seem to have quieted down just  a bit.

I thought I saw my pet deer this morning but it turned to be a doe with no sign of antlers. Furthermore, she was accompanied by a handsome stag whose rack was perhaps half grown so she had no need to find a substitute mama (or lover). Wonder how many animals constitute our deer population?

Mole diggings are everywhere. Still missing are the Muskrats which seem to have been badly impacted by Sandy.

   
Eric Salzman

deer mama?

My pet deer greeted me this morning; at the very instant that I stepped out of the front door, it bounded out of the woods into the open area in front of the house as if it had been expecting me! It followed me on my walk all around the property (into the marsh, through the woods, on the old right-of-way, etc.). It only disappeared after I left the property to go out on Randall Lane and over to Bay Avenue but, as soon as I reentered the property on the bank of Weesuck Creek, it reappeared and followed me again along the bank of our pond and then back to the house! I have the feeling that someone may be feeding this animal. It seems to be a yearling male with two knobby sprouts on its forehead, presumably the beginning of antler growth. Maybe this is a mama's boy that was abandoned and is looking for a new mama to follow around. That apparently would be me.

There were both Common and Royal Terns on the creek this morning. That makes four terns this spring: Common, Royal, Forster's and Least. Royal and Forster's are southern birds that usually appear in the summer (presumably after breeding season further south) but their now-regular appearance in the spring suggests the possibility of breeding somewhere in our area!

I did a kind census of bird species a little while ago but I did not include water birds. In addition to the terns listed above (at least two of which breed on the opposite side of the bay), we have Herring and Great Black-backed Gulls (Ring-billed Gulls are here mostly in the late summer, fall and winter). The two white egrets (mostly Great but a few Snowies) are also breeding on islands in the bay. Other herons are not so common although we can expect to see Great Blue Herons, and both night herons a little later in the season. The noisy Willets are breeding somewhere in the area and are constantly on our marsh and pond, often perched on the dead Red Cedar on the opposite side of the pond or on one of the pilings of our neighbor's dock near the mouth of the pond). The only other sandpiper that appears here regularly (midsummer,fall and spring) is the Spotted. There are always at least a few Double-crested Cormorants around -- sometimes quite a few -- but I don't know of any breeding colony between Babylon and Gardiner's Island. Belted Kingfisher used to come round every day during the spring and summer but now seems to be restricted to migration periods. And of course, there are the two active Osprey nests on Pine Neck, both visible from our shore.
 
Eric Salzman

Vineyard field

When I said that "migration was over", I meant warbler/land bird migration. Although a few stragglers -- mainly warblers and flycatchers have been reported here and there, most of the long distance migrants have gone through to their breeding grounds in upper NY, New England or Canada. Shore birds and pelagics (oceanic birds) are still coming through. Of course, you have to get down to the shore to see most of 'em!

This morning's bird walk was in the Vineyard Field back of the South Fork Natural History Museum (SOFO) and was a joint effort by the Museum with ELIAS (Eastern LI Audubon Society). Most (if not all) of the birds were local breeders. This field has been known as one of the best places on Eastern LI to see and hear the spectacular Indigo Bunting (always uncommon on ELI) and walks in recent years have noted numbers of the gorgeous males and a few females (harder to see since they are sitting on the nests while the males call and show off). This morning there was only one (or possibly two) singing males but at least most people got good looks.

Variations of the color blue seem to be the theme of these walks. One of the bluebird boxes is actually occupied be a pair of Eastern Bluebirds (easy to see as they perch on their nest box). Most of the other boxes are occupied by Tree Swallows, a native bird that is steely blue above and snow white below. Then there's always the Blue Jays. A Blue Grosbeak was recently reported from this area but we did not see it and I don't think we heard it either (a similar song, heard on two occasions, was -- to my ears -- that of the Warbling Vireo).

The area around the museum is a good place to see the Orchard Oriole as well as the Baltimore. And we heard (but did not see) at least two Warbling Vireos (along with a Red-eyed Vireo). Both the Orchard and the Warbling are comeback birds in our area, now increasing after a long period when they dropped out of sight. (I should add that there is a possibility that one or both of these Warbling Vireo songs was actually a Blue Grosbeak; the songs are quite similar and the song of the Grosbeak, only recently arrived on Long Island from the south, is not something I'm overly familiar with.)

Four nesting warblers: Yellow, Common Yellowthroat, Blue-winged Warbler and Prairie. Two raptors: Red-tailed Hawk and Osprey (which refuses to nest on the nice Osprey platform erected by SOFO for the express purpose of attracting nesting Osprey) Three flycatchers: E. Kingbird, E. Phoebe and Great Crested Flycatcher.
In addition to the Purple Martin colony, the many Tree Swallows and a few Barn Swallows, there was a Chimney Swift twittering high above (not a swallow but also feeding on flying insects).

Also seen and heard: Red-winged Blackbirds, Brown-headed Cowbird, House Wren, and Mourning Dove. Did I forget anything? I don't think so but if I did perhaps someone reading this will jar my memory!

Eric Salzman

tail end of migration & tailed by a deer

A cool, overcast, quiet morning with little bird activity. I think I can say that, absent a straggler or two, spring migration 2016 is over. We didn't have a bad season (at least compared to recent years) with the following warblers seen:

Northern Parula
Tennessee Warbler
Yellow Warbler (resident)
Chestnut-sided Warbler (Western Suffolk)
Magnolia Warbler
Black-throated Blue Warbler
Cerulean Warbler (Hunters Garden)
Blackburnian Warbler
Yellow-rumped Warbler
Black-throated Green (heard only)
Prairie Warbler
Pine Warbler
Bay-breasted Warbler
Blackpoll Warbler
Black-and-white Warbler
American Redstart
Ovenbird (resident in Pine Barrens)
Common Yellowthroat (resident)
Wilson's Warbler
Canada Warbler

Nothing really exotic but that makes 20 warbler species, a high number for recent years).

Other migrants or visitors of note included the following:

Spotted Sandpiper
Least Sandpiper
Forster's Tern
Least Tern
Royal Tern
Yellow-billed Cuckoo
Black-billed Cuckoo (maybe; heard only)
Chimney Swift (migrant flock & resident birds)
Hairy Woodpecker (resident in woods; visitor here)
Belted Kingfisher (now uncommon)
Least Flycatcher (western Suffolk)
Eastern Wood-pewee (resident in woods; visitor here)
Great Crested Flycatcher (resident)
Eastern Phoebe (resident?)
Red-eyed Vireo (resident in woods; visitor here)
Fish Crow (becoming more common resident)
White-breasted Nuthatch (1st breeding recorded in these precincts)
Blue-gray Gnatcatcher (resident in woods; visitor here)
Hermit Thrust (still resident in woods; visitor here)
Brown Thrasher (resident in woods; visitor here)
Cedar Waxwing (increasingly resident)
Scarlet Tanager (resident in woods; visitor here)
Rose-breasted Grosbeak (uncommon resident on LI; visitor here)
Indigo Bunting (uncommon resident on LI; visitor here)
Eastern Towhee (resident in woods; visitor here)
Swamp Sparrow (uncommon resident on LI; visitor here)
White-throated Sparrow (winter visitor and migrant)
Eastern Meadowlark (EPCAL)
Brown-headed Cowbird (here and there)
Orchard Oriole (uncommon resident on LI; has nested here but mostly just a visitor)
American Goldfinch (resident)

Everyone knows that we are overrun with deer and that they have become completely tame. The truth of this was brought home to me yesterday and again this morning when a a young deer -- a yearling I assume -- actually followed me around for a good part of my walk both days! This creature would walk almost next to me in adjacent cover and sometimes actually come out into the open just behind me, always alerting me to its presence by loud snorting. It would bound across a large opening but then stop and face me head on to see what I was doing. On a couple of occasions, it actually circled around the house from front to back to find me and continue to follow me. It was impossible to chase away; at times it actually looked like it was expecting something from me! A handout? A few kind words? Some directions to a good feeding ground? Information on where to find a mate? Very strange indeed!

Eric Salzman

flowers, big and small

The Big-leaf Magnolia, said to have the biggest leaf of any plant in North America, also must have one of the biggest flowers. It's blooming right now with upstanding white blossoms that emerge in a sort of columnar form and then, as the petals spread, open up in a kind of messy flop (see attached photos) . We have a surprising stand of these small trees which seems to do quite well in an open woodland. It is native in the south so our stand is some kind of garden escape but it seems to be self-propagating. Oddly enough it is considered to be threatened in much of its native habitat while it flourishes in our little colony of a dozen trees or so. Another feature of this oddity is that, like all magnolias, it is a living fossil having evolved before most other flowering plants and even before the bees and other creatures that pollinate flowering plants; apparently it takes crawling bugs to creep inside the flowers and fertilize the plants so that they produce the pineapple-like cones which contain the seeds that ensure its future. Eileen Schwinn calls it a Jurassic Park plant.

If the Big-leaf Magnolia is a kind of vegetative dinosaur, what are the tiny flowering plants that have been sprouting all this spring. There's a blue flower (a Forget-me-not? a Speedwell?), a yellow one (some kind of miniature clover) and several white ones (one is a Chickweed). To really identify them as to exact species, I would need a magnifying glass.

In the meanwhile, there's a lot of other flower action, big and small. The Periwinkles have come and gone but their close neighbor, Lily-of-the-Valley, is still blooming (but winding down). Although you'd hardly notice, the Catbriar has inconspicuous greenish bell-like flowers. Much more obvious are the Black Cherry and Multiflora Rose just coming in. Also Blue Toadflax as well as Wisteria, Spiderwort and other introduced and basically garden plants.

On the avian front, the outstanding moment was provided by a calling (singing?) Yelow-billed Cuckoo -- not the steady coo (which can be confused with the Black-billed), but the gulping call which slows up at the end; both the gulping tone and the ritardando are distinctively Yellow-billed.

Great Crested Flycatcher was back but no sign of yesterday's Phoebe. These two flycatchers seem to appear on alternate days. Ditto the Yellowthroat and Yellow Warbler at the head of the marsh; today it was Yellow's turn but no sight or sound of the Yellowthroat.

Eric Salzman

marsh mist and spider web dew

Up again early in time to greet the new month of June and to see (to quote a favorite Homeric simile) a rosy-fingered June dawn. No fog this morning but a rather heavy dew and mist rising above the marsh and, to a lesser degree, over the creek. The marsh mist creates a fairyland effect along the shrub edge by coating spider webs with droplets of water and making them visible in the early morning light. What is amazing is how many of them there are; they crown the top of almost every bush that frames the wetlands. And they are all alike and very distinctive: each web has a pyramidal shape outlined by the gossamer threads and they are so similar that they must all be made by the same species. In addition the path between the bushes is criss-crossed by single threads that are like delicate spider bridges across open space. These single spans must be remade every day since I break down dozens of them merely by traipsing down the trail nearly every morning (the deer also use these paths and must cause at least as much damage). And yet, the next morning, the bridge threads are all there just as before.

After seeing Phoebes every day for the first two weeks of May, I haven't seen or heard a one since. Perhaps they weren't nesting in the neighborhood after all. There was, however, a loudly vocalizing Phoebe at the top of a tree this morning. The bird had a belly washed with yellow which is supposed to indicate a young bird. A possible offspring of an early local nesting pair? Or a yearling still in a partial juvenile plumage cruising in from somewhere else and calling for a mate?

Chimney Swifts -- now just a single one or, on occasion, two -- are pretty regular visitors, usually high over the head of the marshl; there was one twittering above this morning. Swifts used to be familiar aerial sights on the East End where they actually nested in chimneys. But cool springs and the installation of automatic heating systems have smoked them out of many chimneys and they have become much less common. A few years ago, I persuaded Jim Ash, the then director of the South Fork Natural History Museum to build a fake chimney outside the main museum building to attract swifts -- a nesting pair and, perhaps, a mumuration of swifts migrating sound in late August (they overnight in chimneys and I have seen them gather in swift clouds before going to roost in a school chimney on the South Fork). But Jim tells me that no swifts have taken up his offer so far; perhaps they will yet find his furnace-safe chimney.

And, oh yes, a flock of a dozen or more flying Cedar Waxwings. In spite of my early guess that the Waxwings were pairing up, this was apparently not completely true. When not nesting, Waxwings like to flock up and this was a migrating or nomadic ensemble still on the wing.

Eric Salzman