from Perguins to Parrots -- birding Peru

On Monday, I'm giving an illustrated talk for the Eastern Long Island Audubon Society (ELIAS) at the Quogue Refuge (7:15 pm) on "Birding Manu" -- mainly about birding in the huge Peruvian park which extends from the top of the Andes near Cuzco down into the Amazon rain forest. After a day on the Peruvian coast, the trip follows a dirt road that winds down the mountains from the arid upper slopes through dense cloud and rain forest and eventually ends at the Madre de Dios -- the Mother of God River! From here on, transportation is by boat or on foot with stops at the Cock of the Rock, Amazonia and Manu Wildlife Lodges. Open to the public!

Eric Salzman

Kingbirds in a Pitch Pine

The Kingbirds are definitely focused on a branch of a tall old Pitch Pine. The tree is on a low bluff overlooking the creek just past the mouth of the pond and the branch in question is high and extends out over the water. It is the perfect, classic, quintessential E. Kingbird nest site. Because the two birds are moving freely in and out, I can say that they are either building a nest or feeding young in an existing nest. The site is a stout limb covered with needles thick enough to disguise any construction that might be there. But I'm pretty sure that the nest is under construction because (1) I didn't notice any activity here before the last few days and also (2) because of the way the birds work together -- one perched high and on guard, the other flying into the tree to work on the nest. They call to each other and indulge in some fancy fluttery flights that suggest courtship more than the simple job of making short feeding sallies from one place to another. I don't believe it is necessarily too late for a flycatcher nesting and I'm quite sure I have seen Kingbirds feeding young in Julys past; midsummer has to be the maximum time for a large aerial insectivorous bird to feed a family.

The big flycatchers have it these days: Eastern Wood-pewee and Great Crested Flycatcher have both been active in the woods.

Curiously enough, the Flickers are active in the same front row of trees as the Kingbirds but I hear them over a much wider area extending from Weesuck Avenue all the way across the woods and marsh edge almost to Bay Avenue. These are almost certainly birds that have already nested successfully and may constitute a large family with the young birds learning how to fend for themselves. I've been estimating four birds but there are probably more; Northern Flickers can have as many as nine eggs in a clutch. I think they like the areas that were thinned out by Hurricane Irene probably because there are good infestations of ants and bugs that these birds like to eat (Flickers are basically ground woodpeckers when it comes to feeding although these birds are also working some of the decaying downed wood). They appear to be staying in touch with one another with their loud songs and calls.

Eric Salzman

Fickers abounding

More rain in the night but the morning dawned clear and cool with hefty northwest winds.

A loud, cawing Murder of Crows sent me dashing out the door to see what was up (the last time the crows cried bloody murder in my hearing, it turned out to be two Bald Eagles). This time I never discovered what they were so upset about (it may have been an invisible marauding cat) but I was surprised to see and hear them joined by no less (maybe more) than four Northern Flickers. I suspected right away that this was a family with recently fledged young. Now, even as I am sitting on the porch writing this, one of the Flickers has landed on the cottage fence just outside; it flew down to the ground and then up onto a branch, offering me plenty of opportunity to study it in detail. Perhaps the most unusual thing about this bird was its head markings: a black mustache and a red patch on the nape but also quite a bit of red on the forehead and top of the head. This is a plumage that you will not find in any of the usual field guides but it must indicate an immature or juvenile male bird; I have seen young Hairy Woodpeckers poking their heads out of the nest with red foreheads and I suspect something similar can appear on a young male Flicker! However a loud wick-a-wick-a-wick call suggest that there is at least one adult male in the company.

Eastern Kingbirds continue to operate along the front edge of the woods bordering the pond and creek. One bird seems to take a sentry post calling from the top of a pine, oak or cedar while another bird works lower down, perhaps finding insects on or near the ground. I suspect that the sentry is an adult supervising one or more youngsters who are learning to find food on their own.

I thought that one of the medium-sized terns coming up the creek this morning was an adult Forster's and not a Common Tern. The light wasn't good -- I was up against the bright rising sun -- but this bird has very white primaries and a different silhouette and flight style. Best of all, when it flew past a Common Tern, it looked distinctly larger. What might have been the same bird came flying directly back down the creek with a fish in its mouth, suggesting that it has a breeding site somewhere on the opposite side of the bay. We see Forster's Terns in the late summer and fall but an early summer bird carrying food back across the bay is likely to be nester.

Eric Salzman

a dry intermission

Between last night's rain and this morning's thundering, drenching thunder storms there was a dry intermission that was long enough for me to do a full morning walk. As I left the pond and headed into the marsh, I heard a sound that I can only describe as a cross between an odd-ball crow and a Green Heron. Two good-sized squawking herons came low overhead. I thought they would drop into the pond but instead they veered left heading into the trees on the west side of the pond. I reversed direction, heading back to the pond and, moving cautiously, I was able to get a view of two adult Yellow-crowned Night-Herons perched elegantly on the top of a low Red Cedar. My neighbor, Mike Higgiston, had expressed a serious interest in this species but before I could call him and let him know the two birds took off. Sorry, Mike.

Not long after and more or less in the same area, two or three Eastern Kingbirds, calling to one another, showed up. My first impression was that there was a adult and a young bird, the adult perched at the tip of an oak and the supposed young bird slithering through the lower branches of a Pitch Pine. Later I saw two adults perched high so there may have been three birds in all. Another possibility is that what I thought was a young bird was a female on a late-season reconnoiter for a nest site. As I've mentioned before, Kingbirds have nested at the edge of the marsh in the past and might do so again.

At Saturday's Linnaean Field Trip, there were a number of interesting insects which I neglected to mention in my trip report. The butterfly list included American Copper and Eastern Tailed Blue and there were Halloween Pennant dragonflies at Calverton. Also, the same stocky medium-sized reddish-brown dragonfly that I have been seeing here was also present at Cupsogue and I am more convinced than ever that this is the Spot-winged Glider. It is a sustained flyer that rarely perches and it migrates 'in swarms' from the south so it is logical that it would appear in numbers on the barrier beach as well as at our place on the north side of the bay.

Eric Salzman

June bug blues?

The hot weather may be uncomfortable for some but insects and reptiles and many of the birds seem to relish it. Spicebush Swallows and Pearl Crescents have appeared along with some of the skippers. The Silver-spotted Skipper on the marsh edge is the easiest but most of the others are maddeningly unidentifiable (Delaware Skipper perhaps; in the grass outside the house). Common Green Darner has appeared with Seaside Dragonlet in the marsh along with those stocky medium-sized dark reddish-brown dragonflies that refuse to perch (a feature that might constitute a field mark; they could be Spot-winged Gliders which are known for their propensity to stay in the air). Box Turtles are active and a Ribbon or Garter Snake type put in a brief appearance. And it's not too early for June bugs (which are traditionally more like July bugs in this neck of the woods).

Yesterday's Red-eyed Vireo sang non-stop (with pauses between choruses but otherwise in a continuous series of vireo question-and-answer phrases) right up until the early evening when I went out. The bird seem to be with a troupe of Black-capped Chickadees that were working the oaks and hickories all around. There are Carolina Wren young out of the nest -- this may be a second brood -- and, by and large, the males have stopped singing. I hear only an occasional burst of the usual loud stereotypical Carolina triplets but also a kind of oddball variation in which the song keeps changing. My guess is that this oddball song is used by unattached males trying to attract a female or secure a territory while the stereotypical triplets come from a territorial male with a mate.

An immature Yellow-crowned Night-Heron was on the pond edge at low tide. This appears to be a second-year bird, class of 2011, but it still supports the idea that Yellow-crowns are nesting somewhere in the vicinity. Green Herons have been active; they definitely nest in the area, maybe even in our own home woods.

Eric Salzman

Red-eye Q&A

This is the time of year for wandering summer visitors and there were a few here this morning: Eastern Kingbird by the pond, Red-eyed Vireo singing in the oaks, a loudly calling Northern Flicker from somewhere. All these birds have some local history. The Flicker was formerly our common breeding woodpecker when we had a larger open area in front of the house where this woodpecker turned into a sandpecker as it dug into the ground to suck up its favorite food, ants; it now seems to have been largely replaced by the Red-bellied Woodpecker which arrived on Long Island in the '70s and is more of a woodland bird. Eastern Kingbird bred for a few years on the rim of the marsh here and might do so again. The Vireo is a common breeder in the near oak woods and, although I have never had the evidence, it could certainly breed here; I have been hearing it on and off all this spring and today's bird has been doing the Red-eye Q&A -- its persistent question-and-answer song -- non-stop all day.

Hot summer weather has brought out a few butterflies (there haven't been many around since the big influx at the beginning of May) and dragonflies (which have been notably absent this spring). Except for a perched Seaside Dragonlet, I haven't identified any of the odentata so far but I'm working on it. There's a definite influx (or hatch) of stocky medium-sized red dragonflies but I haven't succeeded yet in getting a good look at any of them perched.

Eric Salzman

fledglings

I have been under the impression for some time now that I own this place but the crows have a different opinion. As I walk the trails around the place I am pursued by loud, angry corvids who dispute me every step of the way and in the loudest, angriest possible manner. I know that the real reason for all this brouhaha is that there are two or three broods of crow fledglings out there and that the adults are calling attention to themselves only to distract me, to let all crows in the vicinity know that a dangerous predator is lumbering through, and of course to warn their young to take care. Not that the young birds seem very concerned. They hang out in twos and threes high up in the Pitch Pines but quite in the open. How long will all this go on? Probably until the young crows start to disperse.

The crows are not the only birds to have hatched out their broods. A troupe of Black-capped Chickadees almost certainly represents a new family. The Chickadees are also noisy but their buzz-buzz-a-buzz is a minor matter compared to the raucous sound of a murder of crows. However these Chickadees are certainly feisty enough. Three of them separated themselves from the group and two of these were suddenly caught up in a series of whirlwind aerial tangles while the other watched. What was that all about? Two males fighting over a female? Or perhaps just sibling rivalry?

Their relatives, the Tufted Titmice, have been very vocal right through June but I haven't seen any evidence yet of a titmice brood. The Purple Martins, after several times of disturbing quiet, have started to move around again and I can hear their cheery chirping as they hunt insects high over the marsh and, somewhat unusually, I've seen some of them landing on the tops of trees. I had strongly suspected that the Martins may have lost young in the nest colony during the days of heavy rain earlier in the month but now I think that some of the birds I am seeing -- whitish underneath and smudgy on the upper breast and chin -- are newly fledged young ones!

Eric Salzman

flower power and a revisit with Curly the Sandpiper

Most of the early summer flowers now coming into bloom are garden escapes or introduced species: Day Lily (from Asia), Rambler Rose (traditional garden flower), White Clover (popped out everywhere after the rain replacing the tiny yellow Little Hop Clover which bloomed earlier), Privet (ugh; not my favorite) and probably a number of others. The most spectacular current bloomer, with big orchid-like flowers that are already started to fall, is the Catalpa Tree which I consider a 'near native'; it's a American southerner in the pea family which, like the Honey Locust and a few others, got here with a human assist but which, like the 'Northern' Cardinal or the 'Northern' Mockingbird, has become a conspicuous part of our flora. I could argue that the Cardinal and the Mockingbird, both typical southern birds, also got here with a human assist (of course, unlike birds, flowering plants don't fly -- although their seeds do on occasion). An indisputably native flower in full bloom right now in gardens and around the edges of the woods is/are the Sundrops, the daytime relative of the Evening Primrose, a brilliant low yellow inflorescence with four petals instead of the more usual five.

The bird pictured here is Curly, the Pike's Beach Curlew Sandpiper. I know it's the same one I saw because Tom Lambertson, who generously allowed me to use his pictures, was standing right next to me when he took them. I especially like the one where a feisty Sanderling is trying to eject the interloper -- unsuccessfully, I am happy to add.

Eric Salzman

that Curlew Sandpiper

Curlew Sandpiper, our distinguished shorebird visitor, is a Siberian breeding bird that winters in Africa. In Europe, it's a common fall migrant but mostly in the fall when great numbers migrate in a southwesterly direction -- and in a dull non-breeding plumage. None of that explains how they end up on the Atlantic -- perhaps more commonly than on the Pacific coast (although 'common' is a relative term for this Eurasian vagarant). The mystery of the current bird is even greater in that this is breeding-plumaged male who, in theory, should be heading north to his breeding grounds in Siberia.

One theory is that the bird got somehow mixed up with the flock of Red Knots or with the closely related Dunlin, birds that seem to be short-stopped in Westhampton instead of continuing on to their Arctic breeding grounds. Well, maybe. When I saw the Curlew Sandpiper yesterday, it was hanging out with Sanderlings, Semipalmated Sandpipers and other very different types of shorebirds. In fact, the presence of so many and so various a group of shorebirds in the Cupsogue/Pike's Beach area is remarkable; leaving out the local breeding birds there are at least half a dozen species that should have left a long time ago for their breeding grounds in the far north but, for reasons best known to them, are still here.

I should add that this whole area (and Pike's Beach in particular) has the best shorebirding area on the East End, not only for the variety that can be seen (and often up close) but also for the appearance of the rarer species. I've seen American Avocet, Wilson's Plover, Marbled and Hudsonian Godwits, Red-necked and Little Stints (at the same time!), Wilson's and Red-necked Phalarope! This is also a good place for terns including Black Tern, Forster's Tern (which probably breeds in the area), Roseate Tern, Arctic Tern and, in season, Royal and Caspian Terns; also that pseudo-tern, Black Skimmer. On the same day that I saw the two stints, I also saw a Cayenne Tern which is the South American version of Sandwich Tern!

One of the things that makes this area so attractive to birds of both the nesting and migratory persuasions is that it is our best remaining area for Horseshoe Crabs, especially now that the great breeding conglomerations at Shinnecock have been decimated by the outrageous collection of these ancient animals by the invasion of baymen from neighborhood states (where it is illegal to harvest them). If New York State doesn't act to ban the collection of Horseshoe Crabs, they will disappear from our waters along with the beautiful birds that feed on their eggs.

Eric Salzman

a rare bird

I couldn't go look for the Curlew Sandpiper yesterday because I had an eye exam and the darn doctor dilated my eyes making driving and birding impossible! I went out very early this morning, not long after dawn, to the Westhampton Dunes platform overlooking the bay island at Pike's Beach where the bird had been seen yesterday (it had in fact been found at Cupsogue the day before but it was known to frequent this island and, with a spotting scope, the platform was, if you ignored the mosquitos, an excellent place to see it).

The tide was quite high and the island was reduced to a mere sliver. The raft of shorebirds still there included several different species busily working the sand and salt water for whatever it is that nourishes these creatures of the sand and salt in mid-June: a dozen or so Red Knots (with which the Curlew Sand was reportedly hanging out) plus American Oystercatcher, a Black-bellied Plover, many Willets (including a Western Willet, noticeably lighter and bigger than the locals), Sanderlings, Ruddy Turnstones, Semipalmated Sandpipers, dowitchers...but no Curlew Sandpiper. Finally, the rising tide covered what was left of the island, most of the birds departed and so did I.

Ah, but was I ready to give up so easily? No, indeed. A couple of hours later, as the tide began to drop, I was back at the overlook but overlooking many of the same birds. The supporting cast without the star. After hanging out for a while on the chance that the bird would show up, I became aware of a group of birders a ways to the east on the other side of Pike's Beach; I could see that they were working their way over the top of the peninsula which had been formed, lo these many years ago, by The Perfect Storm (the 1991 hurricane/nor'easter that isolated Westhampton dunes from the rest of the world for a while and created the best shorebird habitat on the East End).

I drove over to the Pike's Beach parking lot and, shouldering my spotting scope, headed east along the bay front and then over the top of the peninsula, being careful to take a circular route to avoid flushing any birds on the east side of the peninsula. Bingo! Along with a supporting cast of birds and quite a few birders, some of them old friends, was our featured performer. He was hanging, not with Knots, but with a small group of Sanderlings, Ruddy Turnstones, Semipalmated Sandpipers and, oddly enough, a Piping Plover. Amidst this group of rather modest and rather modestly attired citizens of the sand, the big, flamboyant Curlew Sandpiper, in full breeding plumage, stood out like the star attraction that he was: a good-sized bird with a strong black curved bill (hence his name), dark intense rufous body color, a striking white eye ring, something of an eye stripe and a ring of white at the base of the bill, a black-and-red marbled back, grayish upper wing with black-and-white wings which, when seen in flight, are almost as striking at the Willet's; also an all- white underwing, white rump and white lower underparts with long, black legs. This elegant Eurasian sandpiper nests in Siberia and is only a vagrant in North America. Even so, it is usually seen in non-breeding plumage. This male in top breeding plumage is a truly distinguished visitor.

Eric Salzman

Bank Swallows reconsidered

I got a lot of responses to my posts about Bank Swallows from people on Long Island who wanted to tell me about their local colonies of this species. Most of these colonies are on the cliffs facing LI Sound or the interior bays (Peconic & Gardiners). What I was seeing here on the South Shore was a small number of Bank Swallows on a daily basis followed by fairly large influx of them on the marsh on a single day last week. Since then I've had only a single brief glimpse of what might have been a Bank Swallow. All this leads me to the conclusion that these birds were likely not local breeders (which I would expect to see here on a regular basis) but late migrants on their way north. Bank Swallows have quite a northerly range for swallows and I suspect that the colder parts of their range hatch a lot of insects but only well into June.

To be honest, there were very few swallows of any kind over the marsh this morning after yesterday's heavy rains. I really do wonder how the martins, swallows and swifts survive a few days without insects. The rain was also hard on mid-June flowers including the Rambler Roses, Sundrops and other daytime flowers just now coming into full bloom. On the other hand, the Hawkweed, a flower that does not like the full sun and tends to flower in the morning, is in full daytime, daylong display under heavy skies.

Unfortunately, Nuttall's Lobelia did not do as well. Eric Lamont writes me that "Lobelia nuttallii is listed as a rare plant in New York" and has an S3 rating on the New York Natural Heritage Program. So it was a good find (his words)! Alas, the rain and/or the high tides seem to have done in the half dozen specimens of this rare plant in the one stand that I found. I can only hope that there are at least a few viable seeds to tide it over (no pun intended) until next year.

Eric Salzman

size matters

It's counter-intuitive but it seems as though it's the big guys who are doing well these days in the bird department. Yes, I'm thinking of American Crows and Northern Raven, both doing well and expanding their ranges. Also Turkey Vulture and, to a lesser degree, Black Vulture which have gone from rare to common around here in just three or four years. The survival and revival of Osprey, Bald Eagle and some of the big hawks -- led by Red-tailed Hawk and Peregrine Falcon -- had a human assist no doubt; we quit putting DDT into the environment and some of these A-list raptors were raised in captivity and released into the wild. Even so, their success has exceeded expectations. Other big birds of their kind that have done well include owls (Great Horned Owl, common in our back woods and expanding its range into New York City), gulls (you know), cormorants, some of the herons and egrets (Great Blue, Great Egret) and some of the larger shorebirds (American Oystercatcher, Willet). In the songbird department, the American Robin, Blue Jay, Red-winged Blackbird, Northern Mockingbird, Northern Cardinal and Common Grackle -- as well as those crows and ravens -- are the birds that we see all over the place; they are the big guys, the survivors that have learned how to live with us.

Their smaller cousins have not always done as well. The American Kestrel, the smallest of our daytime birds of prey, was once the most common raptor on Long Island both as a breeder and in migration; but its populations have fallen off dramatically and the only place that it is really successful these days is in New York City (it nests under the eaves of town houses and feeds on sparrows and cockroaches). Down at the shore, the Red Knots are in trouble and, outside of the managed colony at Great Gull Island, the terns have a never-ending battle (the most successful tern seems to be the big Royal which visits us in the summer); the Least Tern, along with its open-sand companion, the Piping Plover, struggles to maintain its foothold on our beaches. Even among the songbirds, the orioles, tanagers, towhees and thrashers are doing better than the relatively smaller warblers, vireos, finches and native sparrows. Even with the humble wrens, the bigger, bolder Carolina has become more common than the retiring House Wren.

I'm sure there are plenty of exceptions to the above observations. Relatively big birds like Wood Thrush are not doing well and small birds like the Tufted Titmouse are thriving. Still it's notable that big and bold (and often colorful) can be the better survival tactic in a tough environment where you would expect small, plain and secretive to be a more useful life strategy.

Eric Salzman

...an ill wind...

Winds from the southeast -- east and southeast are probably our least common winds -- bringing coolness and a mix of clouds and sun. I had an unpleasant experience with the wind on the trail this morning when a previous unnoticed shrub bent over in the breeze and caressed my face from an unexpected direction. I turned to see what it was and realized it was a new, energetic, supple, eye-level growth of, yes, Poison Ivy! Fortunately, I am not very susceptible to the depredations of this dreaded vegetable but then I don't usually use Poison Ivy leaves as a washcloth. We'll see what happens.

Crows are not the only birds with fledgling young. A Carolina Wren, possibly a female, appeared on the trail in front of me calling attention to herself with a characteristic trilling sound. As I moved towards her, she stood her ground and, only at the last moment, flew a bit further ahead and then repeated the same routine. I'm sure she was leading me away from her nest or fledged young hidden in the dense shrubbery. The reappearance of calling Great Crested Flycatchers and Pine Warblers in the past two or three days undoubtedly also had to do with the emergence of young birds; while they are sitting on eggs or brooding nestlings, most birds go quiet. But when the young fledge, the adults suddenly find their voices again -- renewed song, alarm calls or both may serve as warnings to the young but also divert the attention of large threatening predators away from the babies.

Eric Salzman

Birds in Black

We don't have Men in Black (at least not around here) but we sure do have Birds in Black.

Probably the most beautiful black -- a deep and glossy true black -- belongs to male the Red-winged Blackbirds but they do have those red and yellow epaulets (and the females are not black at all). You might think of the Common Grackles as blackbirds but, in the bright sunlight, their plumage has a colorful sheen (the same is true of the big male Boat-tailed Grackles down at the shore).

The real all-black black birds are not 'blackbirds' at all but corvids: i.e. Common Raven, Fish Crow and American Crow. The Ravens are as close as Hampton Bays and Fish Crows are a regular flyover but it's the Am Crow that dominates the scene these days. There has long been a 'colony' on Pine Neck but, for many years, our Red-winged Blackbirds succeeded in keeping them on the far side of Weesuck Creek. Every time a Crow started to come across, an entire squadron of Red-wings would come up to meet it and drive it off. I used to describe it as the Battle of Britain with the RAF fighter planes driving off the Nazi bombers. But, for better or for worse, the Crows eventually made it across and established a branch office on this side of the creek with at least three or four pairs in residence. The crow nests are remarkably well hidden in our Pitch Pines but when the young hatch out the secret is out of the bog...er, bag. Some birds try to keep quiet when their young are out of the nest. Not the crows. The young crows from at least two different nests are now fledged and they make some unpleasant braying sounds while the adults keep up an even more fearful noise. What's the noise all about? Good question. Perhaps the adults have in mind distracting any meandering predators, homo sapiens included, that might stumble into the neighborhood.

I'm reading a very delightful and informative book by John Marzluff and Tony Angell -- two disciples of the great corvidolgoist Bernd Heinrich -- entitled "Gifts of the Crow" about the relationship between crows and people. They suggest that corvids and hominids have a long history of coevolution and many of their stories suggest friendly relations between these modern-day dinosaur descendants and modern-day dominant primates. Friendly Crows? Well, not around here. When I traipse the local trails these days, the Birds in Black set up a terrible racket. Have they found a couple of Bald Eagles on the premises? No, it's my approach and my nearness to their just-fledged young that causes the trouble.

Eric Salzman

Inlet Pond

I did a program on Eastern Long Island breeding birds yesterday evening for North Fork Audubon at the Red House, their headquarters at Inlet Pond County Park just north of Greenport. I had never been to this park before and, since we arrived a bit early, we were able to walk part of one of the trails down to the edge of the big pond. The park itself has a substantial shorefront on Long Island Sound but the Inlet Pond, cut off at present from the Sound, appears to be largely fresh. You can hear the chorus of frogs -- bull and green mostly I think -- and there were Wood Ducks in one of the coves both seen and heard. These upper reaches would be good breeding territory for this charismatic species; the installation of a Wood Duck nest box would be helpful.

Although much of the vegetation here consists of introduced species (as opposed to the new North Fork Reserve where there is a higher percentage of native vegetation), the place is very birdy with active, singing American Redstarts and Yellow Warblers all over the place. There were Rose-breasted Grosbeaks -- at least two males -- singing and calling (loud metallic chinks); these birds, uncommon breeders around here, are almost certainly nesting. Other residents spotted in this short visit included Hairy Woodpecker, Cedar Waxwings, House and Carolina Wrens, Blue-winged Warbler, and Eastern Towhee. All of these birds act as though they are on territory and are good candidates for helping out with the future of their kind; it made a nice introduction to the subject of local breeding birds.

Eric Salzman

breeding bird program at N. Fork Audubon

I'm doing a program on breeding birds of Long Island (focusing on Eastern Long Island) at North Fork Audubon tonight, June 8, at 7 pm. The program takes place at Red House at Inlet Pond County Park in Greenport, which is located at 65275 Route 48 (the North Road). It's located on the north side of Route 48, a few hundred feet east of LI Kampgrounds. You can see the house from the road. There's a parking lot out front, and a small white sign that says "North Fork Audubon" at the beginning of the driveway.

Eric Salzman

old favorites

A lot of old favorites hanging around this morning: Black-crowned night Heron, Red-eyed Vireo, Yellow Warbler, Cedar Waxwing, American Goldfinch and Great Crested Flycatcher. Some of these birds are still singing, some are quiet. In recent days, there has been an occasional wheep from the Great Crested but not much more. I suspect that, like many of these birds, it is in nesting mode which requires that it attract a lot less attention to itself than when its in mating mode. I wonder if that's also the case with the Common Yellowthroat or whether this species -- which used to live up to its common name around here -- has just abandoned us; after a few early arrivals last month, I am not hearing the distinctive song.

I'm sure that the crows have young. I've heard young calling and the adults are in a constant state of agitation -- whether or not there is a Bald Eagle in view. In fact they seem to regard me as one degree worse than a Bald Eagle or Red-tailed Hawk.

Several people have written me about Bank Swallows. They are common nesters on Long Island but not traditionally on the South Shore. Bank Swallows, Belted Kingfishers and, to a lesser degree, Rough-winged Swallows need stable banks into which they build their nest burrows. Sand dunes on the ocean side are usually too unstable and, aside from eroded banks mostly facing north (on Long Island Sound, Peconic Bay and Gardiners Bay), the preferred locale has been old sand mines where there is vegetation holding the banks together. East Quogue Mines used to have both Bank Swallows and Kingfishers but I think the expanding operation has obliterated the sand banks where they were raising young (and they are definitely discouraging visitors who might like to investigate the situation).

Eric Salzman

Bank Swallows and . . .

The past few days have been very active over the marsh but when I went down there this morning -- after two days of northeast winds and a decided drop in the temperature -- there was nothing flying. Then, as the sun began to poke tentatively through the clouds, a dozen or so Bank Swallows suddenly appeared, zipping around like the miniature torpedos that they resemble. The classic way to tell Bank Swallows is from the picture in the book: brown on top with a paler rump, white below with a distinct breast band. But almost none of that is very easy to discern as the birds race around their air space. What is easy to see is the torpedo shape, small size with a short tail, the shallow, fast wingbeats and the darting style of flight -- aerial Browning movements.

Where do these Bank Swallows come from? In the past few days, they have even more numerous than the Barn Swallows, Purple Martins and Chimney Swifts which have been feeding on the no-see-ums and other marsh insect outbreaks. Are they local nesters? Bank Swallows nest colonially in sand banks (in Britain and elsewhere they are called Sand Martins) and, in our area, the usual place to find them is near the high, eroded banks facing the Peconic/Gardiners bay system; they also nest in the sand cliffs at Montauk. There might be sand dunes somewhere stable enough to harbor a South Shore colony or perhaps they have set up housekeeping in sand mines in the moraine. Yesterday, I was surprised to see Bank Swallows riding the wind storm and even landing on the sand flats at Mecox where I went to look for phalaropes (successfully). Maybe all these coastal Bank Swallows are late migrants moving to locations in Newfoundland and Labrador (according to most range maps, Bank and Tree Swallows seem to be the most northerly nesting swallows)?

As readers of this blog will know, two adult Bald Eagles were here on Sunday, pretty much all day. I didn't see them yesterday but this morning there was a large raptor sitting in a pine tree on Pine Neck and being hassled by crows. I couldn't see any details (such as a white head) and by the time I ran back to the house for the scope and then back down to the water to set up, both the raptor and its hasslers were gone. Then this afternoon, just before the rain started, I wandered down to the water, scanned the opposite shore and, lo and behold, found a Bald Eagle asittin' on a tree quite out in the open, white head in perfect view and not a nagging crow in sight.

Eric Salzman

drama on Weesuck Creek

I was sitting on our porch mid-morning, enjoying the good weather and wondering what exactly I was going to write in today's post when a noisy row of angry crows struck up in front of the house. It wasn't exactly the really furious sound of crows attacking a hawk but rather a chorus of hoots that were almost hesitant, yet strong enough to suggest that something serious had incurred their displeasure. I tried to sneak out the porch door, moving as quietly as possible in an effort to avoid flushing up the object of all this corvid ire. As usual the effort was in vain and I could see that a very large raptor was in the air. That's funny, thought I; the crows don't usually go after Osprey. Suddenly the 'Osprey' wheeled around in mid-air showing an all-white tail. There were two birds. Wait, the other one was a . . . no, it was an actual Osprey joining the crows to chase an old traditional enemy. Who or what was this enemy? It was a very big bird with a white tail and a white head.

Bald Eagle.

As this adult Bald Eagle hightailed it across the water with crows and Osprey on its tail, I ran back to the house to get Lorna and the spotting scope. The bird had settled in a low Pitch Pine on Pine Neck, directly across the creek from where we were perched. It was half-hidden in the tree and the crows were trying, quite unsuccessfully, to flush it out. As we watched through the scope, the Eagle moved a bit out in the open as to make room for -- wait for it -- a second Eagle in even more resplendent adult plumage coming in from the right and landing right next to the first in the low Pitch Pine. Two adult Bald Eagles sat sitting side by side for a spell!

After this somewhat extended session of togetherness, the first Eagle -- possibly a sub-adult and identifiable by its slightly streaky white head -- left its companion and flew to a higher and more exposed perch on a tree somewhat further upstream. I've seen a handful of Bald Eagles here, usually in the air, never more than one at a time, not always fully adult, and always in fall migration; this was our first spring sighting and had the look of a young pair.

I reached Eileen Schwinn, one of our few East Quogue birders, to tell her about the eagles but she was looking at Mississippi Kites up in the Sterling Forest! Fortunately Mike Higgiston, another of our limited supply of East Quogue birders, turned up to verify the sighting, making it official.

Eventually Eagle #2 flew up to join Eagle #1 on its higher and more exposed perch and the two of them again sat together for a bit. Neither of the eagles was much bothered by the crows but when the Osprey came by for another visit, they visibly reacted, stretching out their necks with their massive bills upturned and wide open; perhaps they were calling but, as the Osprey soared in close, the eagles seemed to be saying in unison: "Don't come too close!". Eventually Eagle #1 took off flying down the creek and then over Pine Neck with a crow in hot pursuit. It was followed shortly thereafter by Eagle #2 and as this second bird struggled to get altitude, the Osprey came after it in hot pursuit. Only after a serious tangle or two (at one point, the Eagle flipped over to show its claws) did the Eagle break away and both birds were lost to sight.

Who should turn up a little later in the afternoon but Eileen Schwinn on her way back from Sterling Forest. Well, of course, the eagles were long gone -- except that they weren't! Both Bald Eagles were back in view soaring majestically over Weesuck Creek! Wow!

Eric Salzman

a change in the weather

The change in weather last night was dramatic with a shift from clear and dry with northeast winds to cloudy and stormy with strong southwest winds. The humidity and the rather warm temperatures suggested that we were experiencing the fallout from a tropical storm. Rain and wind helped make the morning high tide even higher than usual and both pond and marsh, including my usual marsh edge trails, were flooded forcing me to pick my way around as best I could.

There were three Osprey hanging out at Pine Neck Point on the other side of the creek. At least one had a fish and the second might have been its mate. It had been a windy, rainy, stormy night but the weather let up a bit after it became light and it's possible that both adults might have been out looking for food, not just for themselves but for their offspring (until now it has almost always been one adult at a time; presumably the other had to stay home sitting on the eggs or brooding the hatchlings). The third bird, perhaps an intruder, perhaps an offspring from a previous year, just seemed to want to horn in. Fishing in these choppy waters cannot be an easy proposition and the Osprey was lucky (or skilled) enough to score a good-sized fish. Bait fish were another story; there were no terns at all even giving it a try.

I forgot to mention it before but Arrowwood Viburnum or Southern Arrowwood (Viburnum dentatum) is a native wildflower in bloom right now; it has little bouquets of white flowers. The Big-leaf Magnolia's jurassic flower show is now over and on one tree at least, many little cones have formed which will become the pineapple-like seed bearing fruits.

Eric Salzman