winter flocks

With the temperature dropping into the '30s, there was a noticeable increase in what I would describe as winter foraging flocks with a diverse and changing line-up of species. Although the dominant birds in these loose flocks continued to be the familiar ones -- Common Grackles, Am Robins, Chickadees and Titmice -- there were others, more generic to the season: White-throated Sparrows, White-breasted Nuthatch, Yellow-rumped Warblers, Golden-crowned Kinglet and some half a dozen Dark-eyed Juncos -- the first of the season that I have seen. In and among these birds were a couple of Starlings, House Finches and American Goldfinches . There were four species of woodpeckers active including two or three Yellow-bellied Sapsuckers -- a handsome male and one or two juveniles. The objects of desire for most of these birds were the white Red Cedar berries and the red Euonymus berries but the Juncos were also feeding in the open grassy areas next to the house -- on what I have no idea.

A single lost juvenile Cedar Waxwing was seen high in the Tupelo at the head of the marsh where there had been a flock of two dozen a couple of days ago. The marsh itself was singularly unproductive. No rail calls and the only bird seen, working its way around the mud in the middle, was a solitary Song Sparrow! I did hear the unmistakeable call of a Royal Tern coming from the creek so these southern visitors have not deserted us yet.

Eric Salzman

'Rumps' not 'Throats'

Please note: my last post should have been titled "A Blizzard of Yellow-rumps" not "A Blizzard of Yellow-throats"! In fact, Yellow-throats, our most common warbler in breeding season and migration have almost entirely disappeared for the season.

Eric Salzman

Barcelona

To most people, Barcelona is a city in northeastern Spain, the principal town in the province of Catalonia. But to East Enders Barcelona is also the curiously named neck of glacial moraine that juts out into Gardiner's Bay just southeast of Sag Harbor. On one side is Northwest Harbor, on the other side the water passage between Shelter Island and the South Fork. Barcelona, along with most of the perimeter of Northwest Harbor, is one of the most pristine areas of the East End (if you can overlook the golf course at its base) and I was privileged to have been asked by SOFO (South Fork Natural History Society) to 'lead' a bird walk this morning with fall migration as its theme.

I put 'lead' in parentheses as I had never before ventured into the interior precincts of Barcelona. Fortunately, Barbara Blaisdell -- an old friend from SOFO, an excellent birder, and a frequenter of Barcelona -- knew exactly where to go! We started at the golf course, headed for the Northwest Harbor side and then followed an old woods road north, a side trail over the moraine and then back on the opposite shore. The walk itself is picturesque with beautiful views of Cedar Point and the Mashomack Preserve from the higher points (including several strange sand hill formations) on the second half of this route.

But we are here to talk about birds and the birds were good. The change in weather was certainly in our favor with cool temperatures on a northwest wind. We ran into several pods of migrants with a number of species of warblers sharing the leafy precincts with many Red-eyed Vireos and the usual B-c Chickadees and Tufted Titmice.

For my money, the most interesting warbler was a very well seen, fall-plumaged Bay-breasted Warbler, distinguished from the very similar fall Blackpoll by the following: bright green above, buffy below (I called it a striking mustardy yellow and it extended to the vent), no streaks below, dark legs, very bright wide white wing-bars, a very noticeable eye ring (or, rather, arcs broken by a black line extending back from the bill. Any one of these features might not be decisive in itself but the totality was definitive. I should add that the Bay-breasted jizz was particularly noticeable, not only in the structure of the bird but also in its green-above/buff-below coloration and bright wide wing-bars. This was probably a first-winter female and a good-looking one it was too.

There were no Blackpolls (at least none seen or ID'd) but, for contrast, there were several Pine Warblers, much lighter in color (more grayish on the back and a lighter yellow on the breast) with blurry streaking at the sides, no streaking on the back and thin wing bars. A very different-looking bird.

Other warblers included several Black-throated Green, a Black-throated Blue, a Chestnut-sided, several Black-and-white, and at least one American Redstart. Also seen were a fall Baltimore Oriole, several fall Scarlet Tanagers (male and female), two or three White-breasted Nuthatches, a Great Crested Flycatcher, a flock of Cedar Waxwings, several Eastern Towhees, and large number of American Robins almost everywhere. Strangely enough, only a few Gray Catbirds and no Common Yellowthroats at all were located. All three of our common woodpeckers (Downy, Red-bellied and Flicker) were present. The golf course was covered by the nasal caws of crows which I judged to be a coterie of young American Crows although some of them sounded a lot like Fish Crows. There was a Greater Yellowlegs in one of the fringing marshes and what looked like Forster's Terns with the D-c Cormorants on a fishing weir out in the bay.

The only mammals were a dead Short-tailed Shrew and a few squirrels. What happened to the deer? Munching on the neighbors' gardens, no doubt.

Eric Salzman

Confused? Who's confused?

I received two interesting explanations for yesterday's apparent mobbing of nothing by a group of Tufted Titmice. One idea came from Bob McGrath who suggested that the titmice may have been mobbing a spot where an owl had been seen recently -- a kind of "just-in-case" mobbing by memory. But this morning I observed another such mobbing incident in a completely different spot where the titmice were focused on the base of a dead tree which was overgrown and covered with debris from Irene; not a likely place for an owl (and no sign of a cat). This time they had more company including several B-c Chickadees, a House Wren, a Black-and-white Warbler and Song Sparrows. I'm leaning to Bob Adamo's suggestion that they were not confused at all but were mobbing a snake -- invisible to me but certainly an object of interest to a titmouse or, for that matter, any bird!

This morning dawned warm, wet and clear. The wet was, of course, dew which condenses in copious amounts on this early fall mornings when a cool overnight is succeeded by a warm humid day. As the sun comes up, the moisture condenses out of the air and covers everything. Not much showed up in this warm wet early environment but there was more activity as the sun rose higher. Aside from mobbing titmice, there were at least two excellent B+ birds: a Clapper Rail running around the open area in the middle of the marsh and a medium-size, very swift falcon, almost certainly a Merlin, that flew into and then out of the trees. Curiously enough, the Crows and Blue Jays that normally mob raptors, did not even notice this swift bird whose long, thin, knife-like wings sliced the air as the bird went one way and then, after perching for a few moments, up the head of the marsh before disappearing into the trees beyond.

As the day warmed up (and dried up), another small flurry produced a Northern Waterthrush and a tail-flicking empid in damp disarray: no visible eye-ring, buffy wing-bars and a lot of white-edging on the flight feathers. Either a Willow or, more likely, a young Alder Flycatcher. I have my eyes out for a Yellow-bellied, the only one of the Eastern empids that I haven't seen so far this season.

Eric Salzman

more hurricane birds

A report of a White Ibis (found by Jim Ash, the former director of SOFO) in Sagaponack sent Lorna, Eileen and myself scurrying to Bridgehampton early this morning to look for it. We didn't find it at the reported location although we did see a handsome nonbreeding-plumaged Boboblink (striking mustard yellow plumage, heavily striped) hanging with the Redwings in the reeds at the edge of Sagg Pond, and a young Brown Pelican at the southern edge of the pond. After riding around Sagaponack and Wainscott looking at open fields, we headed back to the original spot where a young man (Michael McBrien?) had his scope fixed on, yes, a juvenile White Ibis. The bird was at the far end of a plowed field just east of Sagg Pond (near the Bridgehampton bridge at Bridge Lane) with several Great Blue Herons. This bird had a yellow/orange bill and legs, and a dark back with a white rump. Here's one hurricane bird that did not hurry back home but hung around (see small pictures: one with a preening Great Blue Heron and an enlargement of same).

The Wildlife Rescue Center of the Hamptons at Munn's Pond in Hampton Bays, a major rehab wildlife hospice in our midst, is overwhelmed with casualties from Irene, with an inordinate number of young Gray Squirrels that came out of downed trees or limbs. Two somewhat more special guests were pelagics or oceanic birds that were found -- one on the beach, the other inland -- in East Quogue. One was described as a skua (species unknown) but turned out be a jaeger (a predatory group of larids which the English also call skua). Its small size, proportions and weight and its blunt-tipped tail feathers indicate that it is, almost certainly, a Long-tailed Jaeger, the most sought-after of the three Jaegers. And, in the very next cage, there was a big Cory's Shearwater, a very different bird and a very striking member of the tubenose family (the tubenose sits over the regular bill; it helps the bird's sense of smell and is also used to eject salt). Both of these species migrate offshore and were swept in by the storm. The Jaeger has a broken wing (the red is a splint on the wing) and its prospects are not great; the Shearwater is in better shape and has a better chance. All photos are by Eileen Schwinn (by the way, the relative size of the two seabirds in the pictures is deceiving; the Shearwater is much the bigger bird).

Eric Salzman

An Embassy of Empids and a Pelican

Although the weather has turned fall-ish, there has not been a big migratory movement in the wake of Irene with the exception of one group of birds: the empids. In recent days, I have seen more empids than I usually find in a whole season and some of them were even identifiable. Empids are small flycatchers of the genus Empidonax, notorious for the difficulties in separately them. They all have wing bars and most have eye rings, often quite conspicuous. They all sit upright and they mostly frequent brushy habitat. There were at least three or four Least Flycatchers, recognizable by their gray, big-headed looks and bold eye-rings. A large-ish empid with a distinct greenish tinge to its plumage was easily identified as an Acadian Flycatcher and a couple of brownish types with very narrow eye-rings were probably Alders. One missing Eastern empid was the Yellow-bellied Flycatcher which was pretty reliably reported from the Quogue Wildlife Refuge a couple of days ago.

Wednesday morning there were several empids briefly seen and not well identified. But one largish. brownish bird, well seen at eye-level, had a faintly yellowish belly, buff wing bars, white edges on the flight feathers, a short to moderate primary projection, a notably peaked cap on the rear crown and -- most significantly -- no eye-ring at all. I am all but certain that this was a Willow. This is the local breeding empid but, although it nests as near as Quogue, I have never heard its characteristic song around here. The Willow is the (relatively) common local breeding empid but, although it occurs as a breeder as near as Quogue, I have never heard its characteristic song around here and when it doesn't call, it can be very difficult to distinguish from the Alder. Not many Willows breed north of us and most of the migrant 'Traill's Flycatchers' (the old name for the Alder and Willow together before they were separated) that occur on our place are almost certainly Alders. But, unless I am very mistaken, Alders always show at least a very narrow or inconspicuous eye-ring. Even the Eastern Wood-pewee (actually the main confusion species with the Willow) has a trace of an eye-ring. But this bird, well seen close up, had absolutely none. So it goes on the property list -- right after (chronologically speaking) the Bridled Tern!

A few warblers: Black-and-white, American Redstart and our two regulars, Common Yellowthroat and Northern Waterthrush -- at least three individuals of the latter species seen at the same time this morning.

Eileen Schwinn found a Brown Pelican at Tiana Beach on Wednesday and it was still there when I dashed down for a look (see Eileen's photo attached). Dune Road suffered remarkably little damage from Irene but there was plenty of evidence of wash-over and there was still a lot of water in the road. But the most remarkable sight was the presence of literally thousands of Tree Swallows -- I would guess something like 10-15,000, perhaps more -- perched in the reeds and dune shrubs, lined up on the Dune Road wires, or swarming in the air in cyclonic form like a hurricane of swallows, most notable when flushed by a passing Kestrel or Merlin. Most of them were concentrated in the Ponquogue area but new swallows kept arriving and there were pods and flights all the way west past Tiana with many of the birds skimming low over the Spartina marshes and even seeming to enter into the now tall marsh reeds.

After I returned home, I got the idea of trying to spot the pelican with my (relatively) new spotting scope. We are exactly opposite Tiana Beach and, from the edge of our pond, I can see across Shinnecock Bay to the wooden and floating dock area where the bird has been hanging out. I was going to add Brown Pelican to the property list!!! But alas, even at the highest magnification, I couldn't locate it. Maybe I'll try again tomorrow.

Eric Salzman

Tupelo berries and a Short-tailed Shrew

After a bit of rain and wind Thursday night, yesterday morning was dead calm and blue-sky sunny with a hot sun and a fair amount of humidity. The calm before the storm? Most of the birds were in the Tupelo grove at the head of the marsh, taking care to stoke up while good weather prevails. There is an extraordinary symbiosis between the trees and the birds. The trees 'need' the birds to distribute their seeds so they 'offer' the birds a bounty of berries. In order to signal that the berries are getting ripe, a certain percentage of the Tupelo leaves turn bright red, well in advance of the time when the other trees start to turn. The birds recognize this signal and come in to gorge themselves -- a beautiful example of what is sometimes called 'co-evolution'. Catbirds, Robins and Cedar Waxwings are in the lead with both old and young birds at the table. Other birds in the trees possibly feeding on the harvest as well were Downy and Red-bellied Woodpeckers, Blue-gray Gnatcatcher, Starling, Black-capped Chickadee, Common Yellowthroat and American Goldfinch (two handsome males moving together in a strikingly non-competitive way). In the skies above were a couple of Chimney Swifts and Purple Martins. In the area (but not eating berries) were the usual blackbirds (Grackles and Red-wings) and corvids (Blue Jays and Crows), at least one Ruby-throated Hummingbird, a calling Northern Flicker and at least two Northern Waterthrushes, one chasing the other.

Thursday evening, a Short-tailed Shrew appeared by the entrance to the cottage that faces the driveway. This creature, immediately identifiable by its absurdly short, spikey tail, was spotted by my daughter Stephanie who recognized that it was not a rodent. We often find dead shrews but rarely see a live specimen as they tend to burrow beneath the leaves and perhaps even under the surface. These animals are reputed to have a poor sense of smell (which seems odd in view of their pointy snout) and, like their cousins, the moles, they are also said to have poor hearing and poor eyesight. This brings up the question of how they find food! But find it they do; they are reputed to be among the most common of wild animals. Shrews have the reputation of being hyperactive and this one fit the mold as it dashed up and back, under and around the little ramp leading to the door of the cottage. Shrews are not rodents. They used to be put in a category known as Insectivora, a classification that has now been abandoned as its members have been split up between several families. Our local species would be the Northern Short-tailed Shrew, Blarina brevicauda, recently split from its southern sister species.

This morning was calm and overcast, the air thick with humidity, the sound of distant surf and the hint of the huge lurking storm to come. Overhead a shorebird -- almost certainly a Lesser Yellowlegs -- came scooting across the lowering sky, its single 'tew' note call seeming to sound a storm warning. There was a Redstart working the trees at the edge of the marsh and a few Royal Terns calling out in the creek. A family of Carolina Wrens was busy in the interior underbrush and two or three Baltimore Orioles were calling from the tree tops. An ordinary morning but with the serious overlay of threat in the sullen atmosphere.

Eric Salzman

summer's here

One of my favorite wildflowers is in bloom all through the woods right now. This is Spotted Wintergreen, Chimaphila maculata, an exotic little plant with two-tone leaves (dark green with a large white strip down the middle). The flower emerges from a red stem that sprouts from the spray of leaves on the forest floor. It first takes the form of a white button and then opens out into a waxy, nodding circle of five rounded petals with a ring of anthers that stick out from a green base. It has a pleasant odor but you have to get down on your hands and knees to sniff it. It's a kind of obeisance to a plant with an air of aristocratic unreality that distinguishes it from more plebian floral forms.

Many of those plebian flowers, mostly aliens, are also in bloom. A small blue button flower long caused me ID problems as it was not shown in the old Petersen flower guide (a book I still use a lot as I know my way around in it). I have subsequently identified it as a plant known as Sheep's Bit, Jasione montana. It is a bit of a wildflower that obviously was associated with Old World sheep meadows and, if you say its name quickly, you will come up with what I fancy was it's original ungentrified name.

All the local Catbirds have decided to resume singing at the same time and the Robins are also singing again. All this adds -- for brief periods of time at least -- a pleasant musical quality to the atmosphere which has been dominated recently by the indomitable singing of the two wrens, House and Carolina. Rabbits are recovering from their recent decline; I saw three of them frisking and gamboling (isn't that what rabbits do?) yesterday while picking mushrooms. And, in the creek, impressive conglomerations of shiners or white bait (small bait fish more properly known as Silversides) can be seen whirling about in schools consisting of dozens or even hundreds of fish in the shallows of the creek at low tide. They call attention to themselves by cutting the surface of the water in synchrony but for what reason is not always apparent.

And, as I am writing this, the first cicada of the year is sounding off. Yes, summer's here!

Eric Salzman

mailbox

One of the best things about writing a blog is getting feedback from readers.

Mike Bottini points out that my statement that Common Ravens were formerly rare in the northeast except in "rugged parts of New England and places like the Adirondacks" may be somewhat in error as most reference books state that the species was formerly widespread before the eastern forests were cut. That may be true but the sources for this common statement are obscure and, in any case, it must refer to a period before the 19th century (and there is no evidence that it ever occurred on Long Island except as a vagrant). The association with deep forest, although traditional, is also doubtful as Ravens are the most common bird in the arctic tundra and they also occur widely and commonly in areas of the west and also of Eurasia which are not heavily forested. Ravens are known as scavangers, carrion eaters and tricksters (they are highly intelligent); they also have a long history of interaction with humans (including native Americans) and they are prominent in the folklore of many peoples. None of this fits very well with the idea that they are a wilderness bird. What they do like are areas with mountains or high cliffs where they can put their nests (the Hampton Bays water tower is therefore a substitute cliff) and they appear to prefer habitat with open areas when they can search for food on the ground. In any case, the current expansion of Raven range southward is a striking exception to the overwhelming advance of southern species north in an age of climate change and warming. Mike tells me that he plans to write about the ravens in his Southampton Press column.

Carl Safina wants to know what the mis-identified chanterelles were in my story about trying to identify the mushrooms picked by a friend as described over the phone. They appeared to be chanterelles from his description but turned out to be much larger than Chanterellus cibarius when actually seen in the flesh; the one feature my friend forgot to mention was size (the edible chanterelles rarely open up to a cap size of even a few inches and are mostly less than an inch across; these mushrooms averaged considerably larger). What were they? At this late date, I am really not sure. They may well have been the infamous Jack O'Lantern, Omphalotus illudens, a bright yellow-orange mushroom that could pass for a large chanterelle (it grows on wood in clusters but can also appear on the ground). It glows in the dark (hence it's common name) and, yes, it is at least mildly poisonous. In my memory, however, they looked something more like a mushroom called Gomphus floccosus which actually IS a kind of chanterelle but not a particularly scrumptious one (it is reputed to cause stomach upset in some people). I consider the Golden or Yellow Chanterelle to be a safe mushroom, even for a beginner but as this example shows. there are some possible confusions if you are looking for chanterelles with just a mental image out of a book. Mushrooms like the chanterelle are a bit like people; if you just follow a verbal description or even see a picture, you can still make a mistake, but once you make your acquaintance in the flesh, you are unlikely to get it wrong!

Eric Salzman

The Three Ravens

I went back to see Corvus corax hamptonensis, the Common Ravens of Hampton Bays, this morning. They are hanging around the water tower in Hampton Bays where they nested and I saw three of the four of them -- two young and one of the adults -- sitting on the lawn. The water company plot consists of the tower, various buildings and out-structures, a large lawn with a few trees, a lot of open space and a water pipe or faucet which is dripping water on a non-stop basis (and attracts birds including the ravens to splash and drink). Next door is the Hampton Bays Volunteer Ambulance building surrounded by a parking lot and another wide open lawn; this seems to be on land donated by the Suffolk County Water Authority. Both buildings are surrounded by a small but fairly dense pine-and-oak woodland -- virtually a slice of the Pine Barrens right in the middle of Hampton Bays (probably also owned by the Water Authority). The area is birdy; birds like woodland backlots with interspersed open spaces. The first day I went to find the ravens, there were at least two dozen crows in and around the pine trees on the Water Authority property. They were not Common Crows but Fish Crows with their characteric nasal 'caw'. I don't think I have ever seen more than two or three Fish Crows together in one place but these birds were all over the place and not another corvid in sight. Eventually we did get a distant view of a Raven but I went back the next morning to get some better views. I also heard an unusual bird call or song by the Ambulance building that I didn't recognize. I couldn't spot the bird that was doing the vocalizing and I was anxious to find the Ravens (I found the two young ones on the tower) so I gave up the search. But this morning I spent a lot of time by the Ambulance building explaining to the volunteer ambulance people (yes, they were on duty early in the morning) what I was doing and listening for the mysterious song. No luck with the song but I did see a lot of birds including Ruby-throated Hummingbird, Eastern Phoebe, Indigo Bunting and a young or female Baltimore Oriole. Plus a lot of Fish Crows and three Ravens sitting out on the grass.

Hmmm. Three Ravens. Isn't that an old song?

Eric Salzman

what did we see?

Did we really see a Red-necked Stint at Pike's Beach?

The second week of June is not the best time to check out the shorebirds but if they're anywhere they'll be at Pike's Beach. There have been Horseshoe Crab landings at that favored spot as recently as last night and this morning's tide was low and starting to turn. We saw Least and Common Terns, Piping Plovers and Willets -- but they all breed so there were no surprises there. Among the migrants we saw Dunlin (one), Ruddy Turnstones (a few), Black-bellied Plover (a couple), Semipalmated Plover (a few), Sanderlings (quite a few) and Semipalmated Sandpipers (dozens, maybe hundreds). With an array of birds like this, there is nothing to do but look at peeps and try to find one that is different from the others. And, lo and behold, we found one in the middle of a flock near the far end of the peninsula, that was covered, front and center, in a reddish wash. A Sanderling in breeding plumage? It looked the size of a Semipalmated Sandpiper except that it had shorter legs. The reddish wash seemed to cover the neck and upper breast and also extended onto the back. A stint? Red-necked Stint? Little Stint? The distance between us and the flock was considerable so we decided to try to creep up on it (not so easy on an open sandy shore), stopping every now and then to use our spotting scopes to get a better look. Eventually the flock scattered, reformed and landed again in another spot. Our target bird disappeared behind a sand ridge. Then we thought we re-found it but now the rediscovered bird with the reddish wash turned out to be one of those breeding plumage Sanderlings with a lot of color; there were two or three of them scattered among less colorful Sanderlings. The tide was starting to come in and the peeps were redeploying -- with or without Sanderlings.

A stint on Pike's Beach? On July 15, 2000, I found a Red-necked Stint AND a Little Stint together on the bay shore here not too far from where we saw the mystery bird today. At one point, I even had both stints in my binoculars at the same time! The presence of these two vagrants was confirmed by photographs. No wonder that a visit to Pike's Beach, even after 11 years, produces that stints-on-the-brain effect.

So what did we see this morning? Eileen took photographs including some through her scope and some through mine Alas, nothing was clear enough. Red-necked Stint is the best guess but we'll never know for sure.

This afternoon, as I was writing this post on my porch, a pair of orange butterflies was zooming around -- fighting? courting? protecting territory? -- and perching on stems just outside. They were skippers -- but which ones? Indian Skipper? Hobomok Skipper? Zabulon Skipper? Skippers are the stints, the peeps of the butterfly world.

Eric Salzman

A beautiful fall day in early June

Today was like a beautiful fall day -- on the 2nd of June! Eileen Schwinn came over, at least partly in the hope of seeing the amorous cuckoos of the day before yesterday. Alas, no cuckoos (although, before Eileen came, I did hear a distant rhythmic call that may have been a Black-billed Cuckoo). The most unexpected sound of the day was a brief double nuthatch call, probably a White-breasted Nuthatch which, however, did not show itself. House Finches, in short supply these days due to a serious eye disease that has decimated their ranks, turned up twice: once a single male, the other time a small group of four birds. The high-pitched sound of Cedar Waxwing was in evidence more than once but no waxwing flocks were seen; the birds may already be paired off and they are difficult to find poking around in the greenery.

A second Common Yellowthroat, singing 'weechity-weechity-weech' in a robust tone has commandeered one corner of the 'front range' -- the tree cover facing east across the extension of the marsh. The first Yellowthroat, singing 'weetchy-weetchy-weetch' in a thinner tone, still occupies the head of the marsh where it has been since early May (and where I have also seen a female). In another bit of bird news, the House Wren that has been singing since early May around the 'Jurassic Park Woods', has discovered our neighbor's collection of a dozen or so Hansel-and-Gretel bird houses surrounding their swimming pool and has moved over to occupy the site. You would expect a cuckoo-clock cuckoo to come popping out of one of these nest box holes but until now, no bird (not even a House Sparrow) has taken an interest. One of them would certainly make a perfect House Wren house and, judging by his persistence, this little troglodyte (Troglodytes aedon) seems to agree.

The Willet was again on his guard post on top of the dead cedar with a second Willet in the pond. Purple Martins were swarming all over the place and there were singing visits from Pine Warbler and Great Crested Flycatcher. Otherwise things were quiet. The morning chorus has dwindled to a few early morning solos as birds are distracted by nesting duties.

Eric Salzman

morning, evening & morning

Yesterday was a morning and evening affair. In the morning, I kicked up a Black-crowned Night Heron from the edge of the open water in the middle of the marsh. It flew  up to the head of the marsh and perched on some seaside wrack accumulated there. It was obviously watching me because as soon as I left the marsh, it flew back up and dropped in to the very same spot from which I had so rudely evicted it. Must be some night-heron goodies in that spot. There are two Eastern Kingbirds hanging around at the edge of the marsh and they are definitely interested in one another. They were both calling and making those slow, heads-up, breast-up, fluttering flights that surely mean courtship. 

Last night, I visited the East Quogue Chuck-will's-widow spot just north of Old Country Road and west of Lewis Road. This has been the local place to find these birds for a number of years now and, in past years, I have even been able to watch them doing courtship and display; there can be little doubt that they have bred here regularly over the years. Last night I was there at about 8:15. The male began singing some time between 8:15 and 8:30 -- there was still plenty of light -- just beside one of the dirt roads in the area. He kept it up -- with just brief pauses and an occasional movement from one singing post to another. He was still at it at 9 pm when I gave up. In spite of his closeness and some tendency to move around, I was able to get just a brief glimpse. He flies low in the denser, darker part of the forest and his flight is, like that of an owl, quite soundless.

All our local birds were singing this morning -- including Yellow Warbler, Common Yellowthroat, Pine Warbler, Great Crested Flycatcher, Eastern Kingbird, Black-capped Chickadee, Tufted Titmouse and Carolina Wren. But there was another, less familiar sound: a kind of soft, throaty song that was not very melodious but somehow kept its formal status as a real song. It was coming from the low trees and bushes at the edge of the marsh but I could not get a glimpse of the bird even as I followed it up to the head of the marsh and then across to the other side. A little later, I heard a clearer version of the same song coming from high trees at the bend of the old right of way. It was, without much doubt, a Warbling Vireo, a once common village bird on Eastern Long Island that disappeared and is now making a comeback. 

Eric Salzman

Willets on display

Willets have been very noisy in recent days and one bird -- presumably a male -- was on display this morning over the marsh. It was a fullout intense flight: a noisy fast fluttering display flight in which the bird seemed to slow up almost to the point of a stall. But he (I'm assuming it was a 'he') just kept on going following a circular path over the marsh and around again. On the third or fourth pass, another Willet joined him and the two continued the flight -- roughly in formation -- circling higher and eventually disappearing over the head of the marsh only to reappear all the way on the other side, coming over the town dock and the creek and then back up the marsh again. This went on for a while until one of the birds (or perhaps still another Willet) ended up perched on the half-dead Red Cedar that sits on the far side of the pond, eyeball to eyeball with a Red-winged Blackbird who seemed to think that the cedar was his designated perch. In the end, both left only to be replaced by a Song Sparrow who proceeded to announce his claim on the spot with a ringing Song Sparrow song.

But those Willets don't give up that easily. Even as I write this in the early afternoon, I can hear the ringing Willet cries. However their courtship and mating system actually works, it certainly does not take place under cover!

It was a morning of strenuous activity on the creek and over the marsh on the part of a number of species. A pair of Osprey circled high, calling loudly to each other and calling attention to themselves to the point that they were chased by Red-wings. Shouldn't Osprey already have eggs or young by now? This seems like a late nesting (or re-nesting?) attempt. 

The Purple Martins arrived much later than the Osprey and are only now getting into gear. They were noisy and active over the marsh this morning and, at one point, a female martin landed on an open area, poked a bit in the mud, appeared to walk (more walk than hop) forward to pick up a bit of reed which it then flew off with, presumably for her nest. Green Herons were calling from somewhere inside the woods; perhaps they will try to nest there again. Today's warblers were few: Magnolia, Blackpoll as well as the local Pine and Common Yellowthroats.

Eric Salzman

Orioles Agonistes

I watched oriole agonistes this morning. A real dustup between two rival males. Well almost a dustup; they weren't quite on the ground but they were swooping around and scrapping at eye level. This was serious business as one bird was persistently calling and chasing his rival who apparently was refusing to vacate the premises. At one point, the two birds confronted each other a few feet apart on a tree branch, both stretched out to full length in what I can only assume is extreme oriole threat postures: face-to-face, bills held high, both bobbing and weaving like windup toys. Eventually one of the birds seemed to be hit by the other (those oriole beaks are sharp) and the appeared to take off, seemingly together with a female. If that was really the case, who was the winner of the battle? One bird apparently got the girl while the other got the territory. 

The bird of the day was a HOODED WARBLER singing away at Maple Swamp. Other warblers seen this morning were Black-and-White and Yellow-rumped (both in East Quogue) as well as Blue-winged, Ovenbird, Pine, Yellow and Common Yellowthroat at Maple Swamp. Also at Maple Swamp: Red-eyed Vireos on territory, the year's first E Wood-Pewee, E Phoebe, Hairy Woodpecker and Fish Crows. As a reminder, I'm doing a Maple Swamp walk on Sunday, meeting at 8 am on Pleasure Drive in Flanders just south of Rt. 24. If you need directions, let me know.

A CORRECTION: In yesterday's account of a visit to Hunters Gardens, I switched the names of two friends. The Carl that accompanied us was Carl Starace not Carl Safina as I absent-mindedly typed. The slight similarity of the two names is no excuse. I'll blame Old-timer's Disease and offer apologies to both Carls.

Eric Salzman

Spent the morning in Hunters Gardens and Bald Hill Trail with Eileen Schwinn and Carl Safina. Carl, who knows the area well and showed us a couple of hidden kettlehole ponds a little ways back in the woods. It is the presence of all the ponds and wet spots that makes Hunters Gardens and a parallel area along the Bald Hill Trail richer than much of the rest of the pine barrens (and a good spot for migrants as well as local breeders). Red-eyed Vireos were singing loudly at the open area of Hunters Gardens, a bird of the season for me. Parula Warbler was the only migrant noticed; other warblers -- Ovenbird, Common Yellowthroat, Pine -- were local breeders. A furious tangle of Ovenbirds and a similar bouhaha of Eastern Towhees seemed to involve (in both cases) both males and females but the exact cause of the squabbles (fighting over a female? territory? mate-guarding?)  eluded us. Also active, occasionally singing and easy to see: male Scarlet Tanagers. A Rose-breasted Grosbeak chink was heard but the bird was not spotted. Ruby-throated Hummingbird could be a migrant passing through but is likely to be a local breeder. Ominously, a number of Brown Cowbirds were seen and heard. 

I got several responses to yesterday's report of a mystery songster. This was a bird singing from a hiding place in a tangle of vines high in a tree above a dense and impenetrable undergrowth. The song consisted of catbird-like phrases neatly and cleanly separated in short, slightly irregular bundles or bursts of song and separated by bits of chatter.  At least two correspondents suggested Yellow-breasted Chat. I didn't say it but that was my thought exactly. The understory looks like perfect chat habitat and I have seen chats in this general area on a number of occasions. One of my favorite stories concerns a Hav-a-Heart trap that someone left on a nearby trail at the edge of the woods which, when I discovered it, contained nothing less than a lively Yellow-breasted Chat trying to find his way out. Needless to say, I set it loose.

If anyone is interested in the Maple Swamp walk on Sunday and needs more detailed directions, please let me know.

Eric Salzman