The Hummingbird Saga Continues

Wanna see how big those little hummingbird mites are now? Take a long at these photos. They are fluttering their wings, standing on the edge of the nest, sometimes with one foot on the branch to the right! When not practicing the-flying-to-come, they nit and pick at their plumage (sometimes their nest mates plumage). This may be more than just grooming. I suspect they are picking at (real) nest mites which are biting but now also supply a little additional protein. When mama hummingbird comes in to deliver dinner, she  sometimes has to nudge their beaks to make them open up so she can deliver the take-out.

Notice the nearly adult plumage as well as the size of the babies. They'll be flying soon

 Here is a brief Paul Adams video showing mama's arrival at the nest:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4eHiwBH6Euc&feature=youtu.be

Wow, can she fly!

Eric Salzman

another hummingbird morning

The young hummingbirds are growing fast. Both of their heads are now above the edge of the nest which is getting crowded. The bigger of the two is even fluttering his wings in anticipation of lift-off and both are furiously preening their fast-growing plumage. There is a white crescent behind their eyes, a black mask under the eye, a sparkling green plumage on the head, some light streaking on the throat and a black undertail with white tips, features that are starting to resemble their mother's plumage. When mama comes in to feed them, I can often hear her soft twittering before I see her and she seems to be getting somewhat adjusted to seeing me and my camera-man partner as she is much less nervous, perching on dead stubs and generally hesitating a lot less before coming in. She was however not so happy when a small flock of B-c Chickadees came into the Red Cedar (to work the branches for insects). This got her dander up and she immediately appeared out of nowhere to attack them fearlessly and ferociously in order to drive them away.

Did I say cameraman? Yes, Professor Paul Adams, he of the Baiting Hollow Hommingbird Sanctuary (and the Stony Brook biology department) was back with a different camera. Here are two videos, one showing a feeding, the other. the much greater activity of the chicks in the nest.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zikv9w3_Gdw

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=psmfKJyyu2w

Watch this space for further postings of The Great Hummingbird Nest Adventure.

Eric Salzman

a foggy morning in East Quogue Town

A foggy morning.

The American Goldfinches have discovered our thistle thicket which is in full bloom and starting to go to seed. Goldfinches are known for their predilection for thistle seed. They are also notoriously late nesters, probably because of the higher availability of seeds in mid and late summer. The birds that I spook from the thistles seem to be a male-female pair so they may be getting ready to nest (or perhaps already feeding young on the small thistle seeds}.

The Ruby-throated Hummingbird on our Red Cedar nest is another late nester but her babies are growing very quickly. I check it every morning and hope to have more videos soon.

The Blue Jays have suddenly become raucous after weeks of quiet. One early morning squawking session was serious enough to attract at least four Flickers, some Chickadees.
Robins and other birds. I spent a lot of time searching for an owl in the adjacent pine and oak trees towards which their anger seemed to be displayed but without finding anything. If, as is likely, the Jays have fledgling young, they are probably being defensive but against what I cannot say. There were no Crows in the neighborhood (Blue Jays don't like marauding crows for good reasons) so that wasn't it. Perhaps a ground predator (cat or fox) invisible to me. Or maybe just a falling out of some sort among the Jays themselves. 

Speaking of ground predators, I saw one this morning. The advent of dawn was barely visible this morning due to the heavy fog and a Northern Short-tailed Shrew -- a.k.a. Blarina brevicauda -- was scurrying about, briefly above ground before disappearing into a hole. Shrews are highly active and voracious little animals with a long snout; they look and act a bit like moles (to which they are related) but a lot faster and without the tunnel digging mitts. Around here we rarely see live shrews although we occasionally find dead ones. They seem to be nocturnal and they spend a lot of time underground or burrowing through leaf litter. I see holes in the ground not obviously connected to mole burrowings and I suspect that they are made by shrews.

I saw another curious animal while driving home at night: a Virginia or North American Opossum hightailing it across Montauk Highway (and, thankfully, not getting smashed by traffic). This is our only native marsupial and the female carries her undeveloped young in a pouch just like a kangaroo. My favorite 'possum story concerns the time, many years ago when someone mistakenly let our dog out at night and she got in a scrap with a 'possum in the middle of the woods. I ran outside only to find a dead 'possum -- possum blood and all. I got the dog back inside the house. But of course I had to show everyone the awful sight. Grabbing a flashlight, I made two or three trips out to view the carnage wrought by our dog. Except that on the third trip into the woods there was no 'possum! I shone the light into the underbrush and there, lo and behold, was the 'possum trotting off with its head turned in a 'possum smile (or sneer). It had been, of course, 'playing possum'.
 
Eric Salzman

blackbirds, hummingbirds & lepids

The young Red-winged Blackbirds (and there are a lot of them hereabouts) make a kind of chuckling or clucking sound and, as they escape (or are ejected) from their parental bonds, they seem to associate with others of their age and kind; the sound itself may be a flocking signal. The young Flickers continue to remain together -- with or without the adults -- and they also have a distinctive sound by which they seem to be signaling their location. Young Yellowthroats are becoming more and more visible as they gain strength and flying ability but their parents are still nearby and still providing some of their food; Yellowthroats have two or three different chips and I think the differences are between the male, female and young.

The young hummingbirds are growing at astonishing speed. Both of their heads are now visible above the edge of the nest and they are being fed regularly. A neighbor on Randall Lane has seen a female hummer at his neighbor's flowers but it's a distance away and it is not clear if it's the same bird. Hope to have more videos soon to add to the three already on Youtube (look for 'Quogue nest').

This has not been a good year for butterflies with the exception of Tiger Swallowtails which seem to flourish in the heat. The other common lepid (lepidopteran?) is the Gypsy Moth which peaked a couple of weeks ago but is still flying in smaller numbers.

Eric Salzman

hummers on screen

Paul Adams, has posted three excellent videos of our hummingbird nest on Youtube.

The links are IE7YmJFZrdg (Quogue Nest 1),  W8B5AfQ9soc (Quogue Nest 2), and stgGCOx8lAY (Quogue Nest Poop). If you can't get these to work by simply clicking on them, you can copy the links and put them in the address line in your browser.

Quogue Nest 1 shows the female coming to the nest and after looking around, she feeds both chicks by jabbing her long beak down their open bills to feed them with a pre-digested slurry of food (insects mainly) that she has gathered: chick #1 once, chick #2 twice and then chick #1 again before she looks around and flies off. Quogue Nest 2 features another feeding; as before she checks the environment nervously before every move (there are two of us watching plus the camera on a tripod) and the video shows a little more of her astounding flying ability before she takes off. The third video (Quogue nest poop) has one of the chicks sticking his tail up and rear end over the edge of the nest in order to project his packet of white poop clear of the nest rim. This amazing bit of genetically inbred behavior keeps the nest clean and sanitary. Taking in the food involves nothing much more difficult for these tiny chicks than lifting up their heads and opening their beaks. Pooping out the waste is a little more complicated as it requires getting the backside well over the edge of the nest in order to void in the clear. And they don't get any practice at it either; they just do it!

Another way to access these three videos is to go to Paul Adams' Hummingbird Sanctuary blog at http://bhhummer.blogspot.com/. All three videos are posted here and are easy of access (Quogue Nest 2 and Quogue Nest Poop are near the beginning of today's blog entry but you have to scroll down a bit to find Quogue Nest 1 which was posted yesterday). The site also comes with a somewhat more detailed explanation of what you're seeing and how it was obtained. It also includes information on the Sanctuary including how and when to visit.

I managed to post two of three videos on this blog site but I'm not sure how well they work (and I couldn't post the poop video at all!). Apparently too raunchy for Youtube!




Whatever method you use to view the videos, I highly recommend going to full screen which will give you a wonderful, life-size (maybe larger than life) view of one of nature's miracles! It also places the events in their environment: the lilliputian lichen-covered cup nest almost invisible amidst the branches of a battered (and slightly wind-blown) Red Cedar, a tree that has a lot of lichen to serve all of Ms Hummingbird's decorating (and camouflaging) needs!

Thanks, Paul.

Eric Salzman

Ruby and rafter

Paul Adams came over this morning to video our Ruby-throated Hummingbird nest. He is a Professor of Biology at Stony Brook and operates a locally famous "hummingbird sanctuary" on the north shore. I think he got some good material from our birds and, if he posts it, I'll let everyone on this list know about it.

The Purple Martin colony has been especially active in the past few days starting early in the morning and continuing well into the evening. Many of these birds seem to be making short flights and then landing on the tops of trees, dead or alive. I think these are young birds still in flight training and being fussed over by their parents in the sweet burbly accents that martins favor. Also the young from the Osprey nest at the tip of Pine Neck are starting to fly. I saw one bird make a short round trip from the nest, by and over the woods behind and back to the nest. A good practice flight. Not sure if the other young one has started to fly but I'll keep checking it.

There are several Spotted Sandpipers in the vicinity, many of them young birds of he year (and possibly locally born and bred). The rafter of Wild Turkeys is still here and they parade up and back through the woods, making quite a spectacle of themselves. Yes, 'rafter' is the technical term for a flock (a gaggle, a gang) of turkeys and these 17 or 18 birds certainly fit that description (except that I would have said 'a raft of turkeys' rather than 'a rafter of turkeys' but, hey, I'm not exactly an arbiter of obscure language usages).

Eric Salzman

merging of the broods

I often take a break on our front deck (where there are chairs and a table) before completing the last leg of my morning walk. As the hot sun was about to hit and I was getting ready to get up and move on, a large 'animal' emerged from the woods followed by a whole crowd of smaller ones. To my astonishment, it is a bevy (or, as some would have it, a rafter) of Wild Turkeys: two adult hens and a dozen or more half-grown young ones. Wild Turkeys are not a rarity on Eastern Long Island any longer but this was only the second time I've seen them down here (they mostly stick north of the highway) and the first ones were males in the fall. This was therefore the first time I've seen the hens here with a brood (probably two broods foraging together) in midsummer. The birds started across the open meadow in front of the house and then, seeing me, thought the better of it and turned toward toward the bushy marsh edge. With all the young birds following, they crossed the path to the pond and disappeared into the woods on the other side, later reappearing briefly in the woods just north of the porch where I am writing this.

Earlier in the morning, I went to check out the hummingbird nest and, possibly due to the chicks' fast growth, I could now see both of their heads visible above the rim of the nest. The female briefly appeared, chasing another hummingbird -- possibly the male --  and then disappearing as four young American Crows took over the area. Eventually, after several rounds of cawing and croaking, the crows took off and the hummer returned, landing on her familiar stick perch, an excellent spot for me to observe her and her to observe me. After a couple of circuits around my head -- at one point she hovered and landed briefly just over my head -- she went back to her favorite lookout and eventually decided it was safe to come in. Again she fed the two chicks alternately with her jabs -- not deadly but life-giving -- and then quickly took off. And so did I.

Wild Turkey update: the rafter of turkeys reappeared right outside our porch window and worked its way around the meadow to the woods where it first appeared. This was easier to count; there were three adult hens and at least 14 half-grown chicks. The merging of two or three Turkey broods is a well-known trait of this once rare species!

Eric Salzman

The Big Sit

I was up early enough this morning to beat the heat and, after wandering around a little, I returned to my chair in the shade -- back to the pond -- to watch the hummingbird nest. I could still see the thorn-like beaks of the two hummer young still sticking up above the rim of the nest but no sign of mama. After a good long wait -- it was getting hotter and hotter and I was starting to worry -- she appeared perched on a bare twig where I could see her perfectly and she could see me. She seemed more suspicious than she was yesterday and would not come in for a long time. At least twice, she circled around the nest tree, perching on the other side and also checking me out in flight; she was clearly trying to assess how big a threat I might be. I tried to sit as low in the chair as I could and to move as little as possible but I couldn't avoid lifting my binoculars up to my eyes to get a better look at what was going on. I had almost decided to leave Ms Hummer and her chicks in peace when she suddenly vanished behind the tree and then came in as inconspicuously as possible on the opposite side of the nest tree. In a flash, she was on the edge of the nest and feeding both offspring with jabs of her long beak into their now open bills and regurgitating their sustenance down their throats. That was my signal to leave and leave I did.   

During the time I was waiting for her to arrive, there was actually a lot of activity in the vicinity. Some of the local Purple Martins were actually perching on the top of the live and dead trees that surround the spot and there was a lot of chirping martin dialogue going on. Although, I couldn't get up to have a better look, I am pretty certain that the perching birds were fledglings, barely out of one of the nests across the marsh and still uncertain in their flying capabilities while the circling adults were encouraging them to continue to exercise their newly discovered flight abilities. Other birds noted from my seated position included Flickers, Eastern Phoebe, Barn Swallow, a smaller swallow with white underparts (a Roughwinged Swallow I believe), Black-capped Chickadees, American Goldfinch, American Robin and Carolina Wren. Even though my back was to the water I could hear a Royal Tern, several Common Terns and the usual gulls (Herring and Black-backed). Sort of what birdwatchers call The Big Sit.

Eric Salzman

domesticity a la hummingbird

I sat in the shade in my chair near the pond facing the hummingbird nest and waited patiently to see if something would happen. And it did. Mama Colubris came darting in and, after a little hesitation (undoubtedly due to her seeing me), she snuck around the back way and into the nest where she energetically fed her babies. She fed them alternately, two times each. One of them, possibly slightly bigger than the other, lifted itself up so that its entire head could be seen as mama pumped her bill down his beak and regurgitated the precious, life-giving meal. It almost looks as though she would impale the babies but, hey, let's grant the fact that she knows what she's doing!

It was a warm sunny morning with strong winds from the south whipping up the creek water which was already in the reverse flow of a rising tide. Purple Martins were feeding low on the creek flying with and even among Common and Least Terns; they were virtually skimming across the water but of course not diving. Apparently, even in the strong wind gusts, there were flying insects to be nabbed. Even more surprisingly a hummingbird came zipping across the creek (at a slightly higher altitude). Could Mama Hummingbird be feeding somewhere on Pine Neck on the other side of the creek? It might seem like quite a stretch for a tiny mite of a bird but if they can make it across the Gulf of Mexico in migration, I suppose there's no reason they couldn't commute across Weesuck Creek.

Eric Salzman

Surprise!

My worst fears were not realized: there are two young in the hummingbird nest!

How do I know? The nest is not that far above eye level but there is no way that I can look inside without causing havoc. But I could see two tiny beaks that weren't there before, both aimed skyward and sticking up just high enough above the edge of the tiny hummingbird nest.

Mama stopped sitting because her eggs hatched. And she stayed out of sight as long as my threatening presence was still in view. When she was incubating she was much bolder -- probably because she had to insure that the eggs were properly covered. Now that the young are out of their shells, she has become much more skittish about giving away the nest location. I pulled a chair from the nearby pond edge and situated it in a shady and somewhat more distant spot thinking that if I hunkered down and presented a lower, less threatening image, she might come in. She did indeed show up on a dead branch in the neighorhood but refused to go to the nest. Even more remarkably, a ruby-throated male showed up and perched quite visibly on a higher, more distant dead branch, allowing the morning sun to show off his glittering t ruby-red gorget. Papa? No way to know. The male hummer is notorious for having nothing to do with the nesting process and this fellow even seemed to swipe the female as he took off. Nothing daunted, she ignored him and flew to another conspicuous spot to wait for my departure. And depart I did with the assurance -- mine and hers -- that her babies were doing all right for now!

Having had luck with the hummingbird nest, I went out into the marsh to check on the Clapper Rail situation. The tide was low and the open area in the middle of the marsh had very little water. And sure enough, there was a Clapper at the near side edge doing her or his toilette in the morning sunshine. This was an elaborate process and, although I'm sure the bird saw me, it continued to spread its wings to dry and operate on straightening out its numerous feathers with that strange implement, its heavy, curved, yellow-and-black beak. No sign of any other rails, young or old.

The three Flickers that I described in a recent post are still in the area and, if I was puzzled before why there were two males without any sign of competition for the one female, I was even more astonished to see one male feeding the other! The obvious explanation was that the second male was a fledgling flying with his parents, learning flicker ways but still being fed. I could now see that the youngster was slightly smaller than his father but otherwise looked almost identical. Apparently there is no obvious juvenile plumage for young flickers. I'm not even sure that the apparent female was not simply another offspring from the same flicker brood.      

Eric Salzman

wrong family

Bob McGrath calls me to task for having described Indian Pipe as a member of the daisy or composite family. It's a flowering plant but not a weird kind of daisy. Monotropa uniflora was never even an honorary daisy. It used to be in the Monotropaceae family along with Spotted Wintergreen and Pyrola. But now the Monotropaceae have been demoted to a subfamily or tribe of the Ericacaea, which was not named for me but is rather the heath or blueberry family! So Indian Pipe is an honorary blueberry!

Today was clamming day and on coming back in with a bucketful, a Spotted Sandpiper -- the first of the season! -- flew in over our heads and landed on the shore of the pond. Mid-July is when we usually start seeing this bird so it was right on schedule.

There's a good-sized hawk hanging around -- probably a female Cooper's. I saw it early in the morning being chased across the marsh by a flotilla of blackbirds and the screaming murder of crows a bit later on was probably precipitated by the presence of the same raptor.

Flickers continue to be highly active with two males apparently competing for the favors of a female. A few days ago, the males appeared to be challenging one another; this morning the three bird were flying around from (mostly dead) treetop to treetop but without any seeming aggression between the males. Is this still courtship activity in mid-July? Or what?

Eric Salzman

marsh to mushrooms II

A young Night Heron, flushed from the pond edge, was probably a Black-crowned. Royal Terns on the creek yesterday and today.  Clapper Rail continues to call (clap? check?) from somewhere in the marsh. Eastern Kingbird reappeared today over the marsh, eventually landing on the dead cedar on the far side of the pond and then moving around from treetop to treetop. Young Robins and Cardinals are probably from second broods of these early nesters.

A few Indian Pipes have appeared; this curious plant has no chlorophyll so it is dead white and is sometimes confused with the mushrooms (it is actually a flowering plant in the composite or daisy family!). A few mushrooms continue to appear including chanterelles, lactarius and boletes. The most striking bolete is a big, fat and handsome grayish specimen which, alas, is far too bitter to eat; this is Tylopileus felleus or Bitter Boletus and it is most easily ID'd by the pinkish caste to its pores (the spongy part under the cap which is characteristic of all the boletes, edible or not).   

The cicadas of summer have been tuning up for several days now. There's a daytime one (Dog-day Cicada I think) and an evening singer. Also a different one in the marsh. Some day, I'll get all these buzzers sorted out.

Eric Salzman

clap-clap-clap or check-check-check?

Our resident Clapper Rail was a few feet in front of me, just across a bit of open water in the middle of the marsh, clapping away. In fact, I would never have described the sound as 'clapping' but something more like 'checking' -- i.e. "check-check-check-check-check". This bird kept up its substantial calling bouts for as long as I was standing there; at times, it seemed almost underfoot but I never caught even a glimpse or the slighest movement of the Spartina grass that would given away its actual location. Since this call is supposed to be typical during breeding season, it is still difficult to know what it indicates about nesting. I'll keep watching.

No sign of the Hummingbird. I'm really afraid that the nest has failed. A neighbor reports that he saw a hummer in his yard but he was unsure if it was a male or female. This is not very close to the nest site but it's possible that the bird could travel at least that far looking for flowers or other sustenance.

The male Pine Warbler -- a handsome bird still in its bright breeding plumage -- was trilling away as it traversed the treetops, both pine and otherwise. These birds always seem to stay up high and the nest is equally high and difficult to see. As a result, I have never been able to confirm that our local birds do indeed breed. The fact that they are quiet for a spell and then resume singing is suggestive however.

Eric Salzman

from marsh to mushroom

Not much to report. The Clapper Rail continues to clap from different locales in the marsh but no evidence of breeding yet. I'll keep looking.

The Hummingbird is now often off its nest -- at least during the times when I am looking -- but it is unclear if she is merely taking a break (in the heat) or if there is another explanation. If there are young in the nest, she should be feeding them but I would have to stand still quietly and for a decent period of time to monitor her behavior and, frankly, (to quote a favorite song-writer) it's too darn hot. In any case, I'll keep looking.

Apparently, our Squires Pond Avocet Five did indeed move over to Red Creek Pond Saturday afternoon where they were seen by a few people. No further reports this weekend.

Yucca (a.k.a. Spanish Bayonet) is in bloom (and probably past its peak in most places). Yucca, along with Butterflyweed and Prickly Pear Cactus, used to flourish on our meadow but all these plants of open areas have now been shaded out.

There have been a few mushrooms. One burst of Chanterelles went into a homemade Pizza with Chanterelle Mushrooms (the talented homemaker was granddaughter Juliette!). Other mushrooms in small numbers have included three or four species of russula (with one or two good edibles). a few boletus types (again with one or two edibles) and a few lactarius (Lacterius or Lactifluus volemus) which are excellent eating.

Eric Salzman

another hot hot morning

Another hot hot morning. Flushed a loudly protesting Great Blue Heron roosting in one of the dead trees just back of the pond. And, at the top of one of the dead trees, a Northern Flicker was sunning himself, presumably to use the scorching warmth of the rising sun to dry off the fairly heavy morning dew that had covered his wings. His wings were spread out, one after the other, reminding us of why he was once called a Yellow-shafted Flicker!

Ben Cacace posted a report on eBird about Avocets on Red Creek Pond. That must have been the same Avocet crew that we saw at Squires Pond; the two Peconic Bay coastal ponds are only a short distance apart. Unless someone has confused the names.

Speaking of ponds, the Hummingbird is still on or about her nest just back of our unnamed pond. See Eileen Schwinn's picture taken yesterday morning (the bird was also there this morning). Notice the lichen covered branch. When she is not sitting, the tiny lichen-covered cup nest becomes almost invisible.  

Eric Salzman

a disappointment followed by a hot appointment

A disappointing run down to Cupsogue on a beastly hot morning with John Leo and Eileen Schwinn produced only a few birds of interest (see below). On the way back, we got a call from Vincent Gagno (I think I have this right) who is a local policeman and also a birder (he is the one that found the Red-headed Woodpecker on Pleasure Drive a couple of months ago). This time, on his day off, he was taking a beach day at Squires Pond Beach with his family when he saw (without binoculars) a small flock of what he thought were avocets! We immediately made an appointment to hightail it over to East Landing Road where, in the midday heat, five AMERICAN AVOCETS -- adults in breeding plumage and juveniles -- were wading at low tide near the mouth of Squire's Pond (see attached photo by Eileen Schwinn). This is not a bird we see very often, and still more rarely in what is probably a family group. It certainly made our day!

In sheer numbers, the bird of the day was the Short-billed Dowitcher. There was a flock of at least two dozen that came into Squires Pond to join the Avocets and they were the only numerous shore bird that we saw on Moriches Bay. On the Cupsogue flats there were two large, well-colored dowitchers with noticeably long bills that might well have been Long-billed Dowitchers; unfortunately, I didn't hear the calls (the only 100% means of separating these two closely related species).

There was a big roost of terns on a sand bar but we never made it across the water to check it out. We did see several Forster's Terns which are almost certainly breeding in the area. Also 8-10 Royal Terns which are probably not (yet) breeding in the area (these are southern terns whose ranges are expanding to the north)  Plus the common Common and Least Terns. Also worthy of note: several Ring-billed Gulls, the first I have noticed this summer.

Besides the dowitchers, the shorebirds were thin on the ground (or in the air): Least and Semipalmated Sandpipers, a few Black-bellied Plovers (in non-breeding plumage), a few Piping Plovers (adults and young), Greater Yellowlegs, a possible Western Sandpiper, and the usual American Oystercatchers and Willets complete our meagre shorebird roster. Maybe not so meagre if you count the Avocets and the possible (even likely) Long-billed Dowitcher.

Eric Salzman

woodpecker warfare

Northern Flickers used to be our most common large woodpecker until the Red-bellied arrived from the south. When I started birding many years ago, the Red-bellied was unknown in these parts (woodpeckers -- flickers excepted -- tend to be resident year-round and very stationary; most can expand their range only as their breeding populations expand at the edges of their range. In the 1980-85 Atlas of Breeding Birds, the Red-bellied was noted as breeding on the LI North Shore but was rare anywhere else. But by the end of the century it was the most common and easily observed woodpecker everywhere on LI including the East End. This was part of a general expansion of its range and population to the north and some people even worried that the Red-bellied was competing and adversely affecting the Flickers, even to the point of replacing them entirely. That obviously has not happened. The birds certainly differ in many ways and occupy different ecological niches (the Flicker is easily the bigger of the two). But I have the impression that our Flickers have become much shyer perhaps because they are now dividing up some of their habitat with their competitor. The Red-bellied tends to take over garden habitats and woodland edges while the Flicker, in spite of its known preference for ants (which leads it to feed often on the ground), is more restricted to woodland habitat. On our place, I often hear it in the woods, especially adjacent to the upper marsh areas where there are many dead trees and some open ground beneath the edge shrubbery. As I walk the marsh edge trail, I often flush a Flicker or two, easily identifiable as they fly away, by the white rump patch, and, presumably if it is a male. by the extended wicka-wicka-wicka call.

This morning, as I was walking up the trail to the head of the marsh, I witnessed a Flicker face-off -- not between a Flicker and a Red-bellied but between two Flickers. Both were males with the tell-tale black moustache and both were sounding the Flicker alarm. They were not physically close so their rather fearsome looking bills could not come into play but it was unmistakably a serious confrontation. What was the meaning of this encounter? The key was the behavior of one of the 'peckers -- the resident bird, in my opinion. As he called, his neck was extended with his head pointing up and tracing a kind of figure-eight pattern in the air. Quite a display. This is known as the 'fencing duel' and it usually involves both males much earlier in the spring when the birds return from their winter quarters and need to set up territories and/or attract females. In this case, I think the displaying bird was the resident and he was challenged by the appearance of a newcomer. The bird that I am calling the newcomer did not take up the challenge (except vocally) and eventually retreated. Satisfied that he had beaten back the invasion, the displaying bird then took off into the woods from I could hear his triumphant wicka-wicka-wicka a moment later.
 
Eric Salzman

feeding flock

Around this time of year we begin to see feeding flocks coming through the woods led by family groups of Chickadees and Titmice There was a very active flock that came by in mid-morning and included a singing Red-eyed Vireo, a Yellow Warbler (possibly with young), a Blue Jay, and two species of woodpeckers -- Downies and an adult male Red-bellied with a young one (no head markings). Two or three Eastern Phoebes seemed to join in but they stayed behind after the main flock moved on.

The Pokeweed is in flower -- spikes of strange little waxy flowers -- and the Bull Thistle is starting to bloom; both are in big stands along the old right-of-way. The very different Canada Thistle has no spikes on its stem and finished blooming before the Bull Thistle even started. I am not totally sure of the ID of these two plants which I never saw here before Sandy. The Bull Thistle is growing in dense evil-looking thickets that ornament the two sides of the old right-of-way and covered a big section of the middle as well before we cut it back. Although these plants en masse look like they are ready to attack, they have a very attractive reddish-purple flower head (surprisingly, they are in the composite or daisy family).

A wild flower of exceptional interest is also blooming right now; this is the Spotted Wintergreen with its exotic striped green-and-white low leaves and nodding waxy flowers on a short stem. This is a Pine Barrens specialty and we used to have a lot of it but the eruption of salt water during Sandy wiped out a lot of undergrowth and decimated this plant. Perhaps the few survivors will reseed the woodland undergrowth which is their habitat.
 
Eric Salzman

new breeders

Every spring, we have singing Yellow Warblers in or around the head of the marsh but they stop singing rather early and, during nesting time, seem to be very quiet. Until now I have never had any confirmation that they actually breed here. But this morning, an adult male Yellow was shepherding and sometimes feeding two fledgling warblers around the area back of the pond, an event that not only confirms the warbler as a local breeder but also afforded good looks at the young Yellows which might not have been so easy to identify. They have very limited yellow, mainly under the tail and a little creamy wash on the throat. They also make a series of low ticking noise, probably to let the adult know where they are.

I had a much briefer glimpse of a young Common Yellowthroat as I passed through Yellowthroat territory accompanied and distracted once again by the active and visible elders.

Ruby-throated Hummingbird still on the nest. I am making an effort to get a picture but so far all I have to show is a thicket and, try as I might, I can't find the nest amidst the pictorial jumble of branches and greenery. I know it's there somewhere!

This has been a good year for confirmed nestings. Besides the Yellow (a familiar presence but nesting never before proven), there is the Ruby-throated Hummingbird, White-breasted Nuthatch and Eastern Phoebe, all new as confirmed nesters. And Clapper Rail as a likely but not yet confirmed breeder in the marsh.

Eric Salzman

post-colubris or after the discovery of a hummingbird nest

The big event of the morning was an Osprey ferociously diving at a hapless Yellow-crowned Night Heron perched on the opposite bank of Weesuck Creek, right under the Osprey's nest pole. As I came down the path I could hear a bloodcurdling shriek; it was the Osprey screaming as it swooped down, forcing the defiant heron to duck or risk being seriously hurt. Eventually the heron gave up its defiance and took off while the Osprey returned to the nest where there are at least two young on the verge of learning to fly. Is the Night Heron an actual threat to the Osprey young? Probably not but Night Herons do raid seabird nests and this Osprey wasn't taking any chances.

There must be a run of bait fish on our side of Weesuck Creek. For the past couple of days, there has been a steady stream of terns -- Common and Least -- flying, hovering, diving and catching -- just off our shore (in the case of the Least Terns, sometimes in just a few inches of water right at the edge). Thid morning there was also at least two Forster's Terns in non-breeding plumage. And one or more Great Blue Herons have been present for the past few days; this majestic bird does not nest on Long Island but will become more numerous as the summer and fall roll by.

Another notable sighting from yesterday morning was the Clapper Rail sauntering along in the mud at the edge of the open water area in the middle of the marsh and sometimes, where there was deeper water, swimming like an odd duck. No sign of young as yet but I can't help hoping that a rail present through June and July must be a nesting rail.   

The Willet continues to object to my presence in the marsh but seems to have lost some of his get-up-and-go; he (if it is indeed a he) only dove at me a couple of times this morning. The two Yellowthoats, male and female, popped up right on schedule and again escorted me all the way to the end of their territory, making alarm noises all the way, apparently to make sure that I was still noticing.

A juvenile Hairy Woodpecker with a reddish forecrown was born locally, no doubt. And a rather noisy band of Black-capped Chickadees included both adults and fledglings still being fed.

The hummingbird? Yes, she was still sitting on her miniature nest. I don't know when she actually laid her eggs but hummers generally incubate for c. two weeks and the chicks are fed on the nest (by the female only) for another two-and-a-half to three weeks before they fly. I'll keep you posted.

Eric Salzman

A Hummingbird Nest? -- Part III

First thing in the morning, I went down to the hummingbird spot to see what I could see. Nothing. Nada. Nichts. Niente. Had I dreamt the whole thing?

Then, on an impulse, I took two steps towards the tree where I thought I saw it on a nest two days ago. Almost instantly, the hummingbird popped up in front of me and buzzed so close I could hear the hum of the wings. It then perched on a nearby bare branch eyeing me anxiously, took off again and, after circling around me at least twice, proceeded to repeat the whole routine. Gingerly, I stepped back to try and see where it went but it just vanished. Disappeared. Again, I took two steps forward and again Ms Hummer reappeared, perched almost in my face, circled around me and buzzed me two or three times. Still I couldn't see where she came from or where she went. I turned away and resumed my usual walk: to the pond, around the marsh, through the woods and the old right-of-way, eventually circling back onto the property and back to the pond and the hummingbird hostel. Once again, I took those two steps forward and once again she reappeared and went through her routine, with the obvious intent to chase me away or, at any rate, to distract me. Suddenly it hit me. I was standing right under the nest!!!

I looked up and there on a low branch of a Red Cedar just a few steps in front and a few feet above was the tiny hummingbird cradle -- the smallest nest in Eastern North America; it was completely covered in lichen and incredibly well camouflaged, a mere bump on an obscure branch of a bedraggled-looking Red Cedar. No one at home at the moment. But unmistakably the work of the hummer. She invariable sat tight until the very last moment when I appeared almost directly underneath. I was no longer a mere distant observer but had become a direct threat.

The nest is only a few steps from the path and the pond. While the human traffic on this path is not exceptional, we have been sauntering by that nest every day without seeing anything except the occasional glimpse of a hummingbird flit!

I backed off and ran down the path to fetch Lorna. By the time we were back, the nest was a tad easier to find because we approached it ever so slowly and could see that the bird was sitting neatly on it, with only head and tail exposed. Late nesting is probably desirable; not only are there are more insects and flowers for her to feed on (and for her to feed her young) but also the warm weather permits her to leave the nest for longer periods without risk that the eggs or chicks will get cold.

It occurs to me that what I saw on Wednesday was an intentional attempt by the bird to mislead me into thinking that the lichen-covered oak branch where I saw her sitting was the actual nest site. And yes, I was completely fooled. I wonder if this behavior has been reported in the literature; it was an amazing performance and I don't think my explanation is outside the realm of possibility.

Eric Salzman

a hummingbird nest?

Alas, I didn't see the hummingbird this morning and I'm no longer sure if what I saw yesterday was really a hummer on the nest. She was sitting behind a lichen-covered oak branch somewhat above eye level in an area where she had been seen several times before and in a manner that only her head and 'cocked' tail were visible, the body being obscured either by the branch or the sides of the nest. Exactly the way a hummingbird sitting on eggs or brooding her brood would look. She remained in that position for some time but was not seen yesterday evening or this morning. Do hummingbirds sometimes sit lengthwise instead of perching upright? Do they pretend to be brooding to fool would-be predators (presumably including me)? Or have the young already hatched and are waiting for mama to come back in when said potential predator (me) disappears?

If the last-named is the case, she would not be alone in her concern for her babies. For the past few days, a very angry Willet has been trying to chase me away as I approach the pond and then head down into the marsh. This bird not only shrieks (and, believe me, Willets are shriek specialists), but comes flying right at me. His dive-bombing tactic is so effective that, even though I know (or think I know) that he will veer off at the last second, I am still scared that he will hit me with his substantial beak.. He comes shrieking by so close that I can hear the whoosh of his wings.

I suspect that there must be a nest or, more likely, a young Willet or two hidden nearby. I have been hearing a repeated rhythmic call coming from the Spartina beds and I presume that it must be either a young Clapper Rail or, more likely, a young Willet.

Finally, leaving the Willet behind to savor his triumph, I reach the marsh corner where, yesterday, I saw an agitated male with a fat yellow worm in his beak. Today, he had an insect and he was just as reluctant to deliver it to his well-hidden offspring. His loud angry chips were echoed by a series of softer chips and, lo and behold, Mrs. Yellowthroat popped up very close to me but on the other side -- bright yellow throat and a white eyering but no black mask. I am certain that the male was the same bird as yesterday (Yellowthroat #2 was singing away further up the marsh) and the female was his mate. This was the first time this year that I saw a female Yellowthroat although she was obviously there all along. I have no doubt that, after remaining hidden for a couple of months, she was now willing to expose herself so dramatically in order to try and lure me away from her hidden young. I didn't take the bait at first. But when the male, perched on a dead branch opposite. gulped down the insect and then proceeded to wipe his beak on the branch, I realized that my presence was depriving the young of needed nourishment and decided to move on. Amazingly, the two adult Yellowthroats followed me right up the marsh to the invisible line that separated their domain from that of Yellowthroat #2 who promptly appeared high on a dead branch, singing loudly, to proclaim his territory while the others retreated.  

Eric Salzman

needle in a haystack

I have seen a female Ruby-throated Hummingbird working the area around the pond often enough so that Lorna thought I should look for a nest. Fat chance, thought I. The odds of finding a humingbird's nest are approximately equal to that of finding the proverbial needle in a haystack. Has anyone actually looked for a needle in a haystack? Well the hummer popped up this morning as I made my way down to the pond and I stopped to follow it as it landed just out of sight, hidden on the branch of an oak tree by a spray of leaves. As I moved around to get a better view, it jumped up again and darted away but eventually came shooting back and landed on the same branch at the point where the branch formed a kind of node (or knot) covered with lichen. Mme Colubris was not perched on the branch in the usual hummingbird fashion but was sitting just on the other side of the branch with only her head and tail sticking out. Could this be anything else but a hummingbird sitting on her nest?!

A hummingbird nest! It would be a first one for the property. And it would have been completely unoticeable (and unfindable) if I hadn't seen the mama bird actually land there and settle in, apparently to incubate or to brood. The warm weather (even at that early hour, it was obviously going to be a scorcher) was probably perfect for the bird. Since only the females build the nests, incubate the eggs and raise he nestlings, the advent of warm weather gives her a chance to go off and feed without fear that the eggs will get cold.

Trochilus colubris was not the only bird observed in its reproductive life cycle. At least two Baltimore Oriole males were circling the place with fledglings in tow -- one with a single, the other with two or three. The young birds have a very distinctive rhythmic call which signifies something like "here I am" or  "feed me" or, perhaps, "show me where I can get dinner".

There are three young Phoebes that regularly freqent the meadow in front of the house, becoming quite adept at catching insects both in the trees and on the open ground. In the meanwhile, the adult male gives his simple song -- a buzzy two-note fee-bee with variations -- a distance away in the woods and gardens on either side of Weesuck Avenue (if the young are on their own, perhaps the elders can start a second brood).

Three Yellowthroats: No. 1, at the bend of the marsh, with a juicy fat worm in its beak; No. 2 singing away in the upper marsh; and No. 3 on the other side of the property (near the pond and not far from the hummingbird).

Eric Salzman

Fourth of July: spectacles large & small

Last night, instead of lightning flashes, we had our annual Fourth of July fireworks display on the far side of Pine Neck. This modestly impressive show always has enough oomph and sparkle so that it rises above the trees of Pine Neck to be visible from our side of the creek. The strange part is that this display has been going on since my childhood (many years ago, I assure you) and I still don't know who, what or where (although I do know why). In a way, I like the fact that this spectacle is a mysterious natural emanation of our national holiday, almost as if the fireworks go off of their own accord.

On the back roads between East Quogue and the South Fork Natural History Museum, there are two Osprey nests. One of them is on a telephone pole on Scuttlehole Raod and the other is on a specially erected pole near the turnoff between Head of Pond Road and Deerfield Road. I previously reported that the telephone-pole Ospreys had been persuaded to move to the Osprey pole which they then afterwards abandoned. But as I drove by after yesterday's Birding by Ear, both nests were active and appeared to have young. These two nests are striking, not only because they are on paved roads with a fair amount of traffic, but also because they are situated upland. However, as the Osprey flies, it is probably not a big stretch for the adults to reach either the South Shore ponds (Mecox. Sagg, Georgica) or Peconic Bay for their source of fish.

Back at the ranch this morning, there were at least three Common Yellowthroat males on territory and singing away. A female Mallard duck (the expression is actually redundant since 'duck' is the work for a female waterfowl) with six ducklings in tow was swimming in the pond this morning. Up to now, I've seen only a single duckling in the area so this is a rather late nesting or perhaps even a re-nesting. And I haven't seen any cygnets (young swanlets) at all.

A small group of Phoebes -- three birds, including adults and young -- was insect catching in the small meadow in front of our house -- now considerably opened up by being mowed. The birds would dive down to the ground from a tree branch and then pop up -- tails a-wagging, with or without a catch -- on a dead stick. Repeat performances by at least two birds at a time made a charming little spectacle.

Eric Salzman

Birding by Ear

This morning's SOFO Birding by Ear was probably not scheduled on the best of days: the middle of the July 4th holiday when birders were partying and birds were nesting and falling silent. A small but enthusiastic group turned up for the walk and the birds were relatively quiet. But in spite of all this, it was a productive walk on a pleasant early summer morning with good views of many of the specialties of the Vineyard Field behind the South Fork Natural History Museum.

This field is perhaps notable, above all else, for its Indigo Buntings and both male and female buntings were seen; a few buntings were in song and one nervous male, clearly agitated by our presence; we were apparently close to a nest or, more likely, a fledgling who whose soft chips could be heard as a kind of weal counterpoint to the male's loud alarm calls.

Other observations of note included the Bluebirds using a nest box at the far end of the field; Chimney Swifts; female Orchard Oriole; Red-bellied Woodpecker with young; four species of swallows including Purple Martins, Barn, Tree and Bank.; Turkey Vultures soaring overhead (including one group of three). The only warbler songs heard were the Yellow Warbler and the Common Yellowthroat.

A stunning display of wild flowers included Common Milkweed, Butterfly Weed (another kind of milkweed), St. John's Wort, Deptford Pink, Blue Toadflax, Common Nightshade, Common Mullein, several species of daisy-like composites not to mention the plantings in the Butterfly Garden and around the buildings. A startling sight was a stand of very phallic-looking Stinkhorn mushrooms, probably Mutinus elegans with its orange stem and sticky brown cap; talk about alien species, this one looks like it invaded from another planet but it is, in fact, a native.

Along with the flowers, many butterflies including Silver-spotted Skipper, Spicebush Swallowtail, many Common Wood-Nymphs, a great many American Coppers, one of the Sulphurs (and we weren't even especially looking for butterflies)! Also several large and handsome dragonflies include the Green Darner, a Red or Carolina Saddlebags, and one of the red Skimmers.

In a less happy vein, there was evidence of Box Turtle nests that had been dug up by a raccoon or fox as well as a dead turtle that appeared to have been run over as it attempted to lay its eggs.

The complete bird list:

Double-crested Cormorant (overflights)
Turkey Vulture (soaring birds overhead)
Red-tailed Hawk (soaring while undergoing blackbird attacks)
Mourning Dove
Chimney Swift
Red-bellied Woodpecker (adult with young bird)
Eastern Phoebe (heard)
Eastern Kingbird
Blue Jay
Purple Martin
Tree Swallow
Bank Swallow
Barn Swallow
Tufted Titmouse (mostly heard)
House Wren
Eastern Bluebird
American Robin
Gray Catbird
Northern Mockingbird
Brown Thrasher
European Starling
Yellow Warbler
Common Yellowthroat
Chipping Sparrow
Song Sparrow
Northern Cardinal
Indigo Bunting
Red-winged Blackbird
Common Grackle
Orchard Oriole (female)
Baltimore Oriole (great views of active males)
American Goldfinch
    
Eric Salzman

flashes and rumbles

Last night's thunderstorms provided a magnificent spectacle. As usual, the storm came from the east in two parts. The first passed over quickly but, after a deceptive pause, the second round arrived with pounding rain and furious, dazzling lightning flashes. Instead of passing over quickly the storm seemed to stall over over the bay. I could see the actual streaks of lightning from our second floor window. Although these huge bolts seemed to be right over the bay, there was a pause between the flash and the roar of thunder so the bolts may have been streaking down from the clouds over Dune Road or over the ocean (and wind from the ocean may have caused the storm to stall).

This morning dawned bright and clear and the birds seemed very active in spite of the wet vegetation. Flocks of Titmice -- family groups no doubt -- were everywhere. Common Grackles are beginning to flock uo; they don't wait long to form those big aggregations that mark the changing of the seasons; curiously enough, unlike many other birds, they have no special markings to signal "follow me"; perhaps their raucous calls perform this function. Both flycatchers -- Great Crested and Eastern Phoebe -- were very active and very vocal.

Tomorrow: Birding By Ear starting at 8am at the South Fork Natural History Museum on the Bridgehampton/Sag Harbour Turnpike.

Eric Salzman

birding by ear

A Carolina Wren popped out of cover and, perched on a wire, began to sing his loud four-part song over and over and over again. He sang with such vehemence that I thought he would fall off the wire! It's a bit uncommon to see this bird operating totally in the open for so long; usually they sing from inside a leafy bush or tree branch. About half way through his recital, Mr. Wren unaccountably switched to another song -- same shape and rhythm but in a different melodic form. After another long session with Tune #2, he flew into a nearby tree, finished the rondelay and then flew off to resume somewhere else.

Some of the song birds around here have stopped singing, notably the Baltimore Oriole and Yellow Warbler. As I'm doing a Birding by Ear walk for SOFO on Sunday (yes, July 3rd), I can only hope that the birds in Vineyard Field back of the SOFO Museum will be vocal. We'll see.

That walk takes place at 8am on Sunday. SOFO is on the Bridgehampton/Sag Harbor Turnpike just north of the LIRR tracks. If by any chance, you plan to come, I would give SOFO a call at 631 537-9735.

Eric Salzman