a May migrant morning

May 2nd is an early date for May migrants in these parts but there was a strong movement last night and quite a few birds, many of them new for the season, hit the deck this morning. Among the notables were a pair of Baltimore Orioles (male & female), a pair of Orchard Orioles (adult male and a first-year male which I at first mistook for a female), a female Rose-breasted Grosbeak, and a dazzling male Scarlet Tanager. Also Great Crested Flycatcher, Gray Catbird, Red-eyed Vireo, Warbling Vireo and a number of warblers, not all identified (most were in the canopy in the emerging oak leaves and tassels, silhouetted against the glare of an overcast sky). Among those which I could pick out (or identify by sound) were a handsome Blackburnian, several Yellow-rumped Warblers, a Yellow, a Parula and a Pine.

A new Osprey platform has been erected on the Pine Neck shore directly opposite us but it is not yet occupied (the huge old nest is still visible in the distance where it stands in the Pine Neck marsh). There was at least one Osprey soaring overhead and a Red-tail Hawk--presumably the same one seen yesterday--was still in the neighborhood. The Purple Martins are beginning to claim their nesting sites and pair off (if they are not actually already paired) and there are a couple of swallows about (Tree and, I think, one or two Barns). Water birds included calling Willets, a number of Great Egrets, a Belted Kingfisher, and a small Greater Yellowlegs.

Eric Salzman

The Flowers that bloom in the summer, tra-la

Late June but officially summer and flowers are blooming in great numbers. Although my post on Saturday's Linnaean trip was focused on birds (with a few mammals thrown in), there also was a long list of flowering plants. The most spectacular were the flowering cactus off Dune Road by the Ponquogue Bridge. This is a native prickly-pear (Opuntia) that seems to regard beach sand as the same habitat as desert sand. These creatures have large and beautiful lemony yellow flowers which all bloom at once. Quite a display.

There were lots of other flowers at the beach and in the upland grasslands including Coreopsis or Tickseed, Rudbeckia or Black-eyed Susans, St. John's Wort, Butter-and-Eggs, Deptford Pink, Blue Toadflax, Common Mullein, Moth Mullein, Rabbit-foot Clover, Venus' Looking Glass, various Hawkweeds and other plants too numerous to mention or which, more honestly, I have forgotten. In addition to Wild Rose both Rugosa and Rambler Roses are in full bloom. Many (if not most) of these flowers are introduced species, garden escapes or 'near natives' but Tickseed (an ugly name for a beautiful flower), Black-eyed Susan, Wild or Virginia Rose and, believe it or not, Prickly-pear Cactus are native to the American northeast.

One previously unmentioned incident from Saturday that I did not forget was the singing Vesper Sparrow at Gabreski. There are at least four different sparrow species here: Grasshopper (the rarest), Chipping (the most common), Vesper (the most sought-after) and Field (formerly common, now much less so). The song was coming from a nearby fence so I hopped over in that direction and spotted the bird, first on an emergent Pitch Pine and then perched nicely on the fence. "There it is", I shouted bringing over the crowd of Linnaean birdwatchers. "But isn't that a Field Sparrow?" asked one perspicacious birder. So I decided to actually look at the bird through my binoculars and it was indeed a Field Sparrow singing something very un-Field Sparrow-like (no bouncing ball) and close to a typical Vesper Song. I had boldly called the bird on what I thought was a sure identification of the song. The double moral of the story: (1) some species can actually sing like other species, and (2) can't win 'em all.

Eric Salzman

a short blog for Tuesday

Tuesday, May 3. A cloudy morning giving way to hazy sunshine. Wind from the south with the sound of surf coming across the bay from the ocean. The southern breezes did not, however, bring in new birds although some birds may have left. The morning chorus was more subdued with no Rose-breasted Grosbeak and no Orchard Oriole. However there was a notable replacement in the form of a singing Scarlet Tanager -- not quite as beautiful vocally, but equally persistent. Didn't actually see this glamour bird but I did get a good look at a female. The Baltimore Orioles and Catbirds were also in good voice; like many other birds, they are starting to set up territories, court, etc.

Hudsonian Godwit? Yes!

Went out to Cupsogue this afternoon with Eileen Schwinn and Mike Higgiston (the East Quogue bird mafia) to look for the HUDSONIAN GODWIT that was reported earlier by Pat Lindsay and Shai Mitra and seen yesterday by Eileen. The bird was right were it was supposed to be: on a sand flat directly in front of the westernmost of the Moriches Inlet islands and easily visible (with a scope) from the bay shore in front of the country park dunes.

Hudsonian Godwit is one of the most spectacular of the North American shorebirds. It is about the same size as a Willet, with long knobby legs and a longish somewhat upturned two-tone bill. This bird was seen in the afternoon at low tide when the flats are exposed and it was feeding on a sand bar and in the adjacent shallow water. It showed a rufous breast; that and the rather gentle curve of the bill suggest that it is a breeding-plumage male (the females have barred breasts and distinctly longer upturned bills). It also has something of an eye stripe (supercilium if you prefer) as well as a black tail and white rump, visible only when the bird shook its butt hard enough for the tail and rump to show. Since it didn't fly, the wings were not well seen although the wing tips appeared black with a trace of white occasionally visible. It was seen to catch some kinds of small crustaceans and to extract long slinky worms out of their deep coverts in the sand -- a good use for that long bill no doubt. Apparently for good reason, the bird is faithful to this spot and, if it hangs out for a while, this would be the first place to look (check for a good low tide).

Hudsonian is by far the rarer of the two native godwits and it has not been much in evidence out here in recent decades. Ironically, in recent years, we've had visits from both Eurasian godwits -- the Bar-tailed (which actually crosses the Bering Strait to nest on the shores of Western Alaska) and the Black-tailed -- as well as the more common Marbled Godwit. But Hudsonian has been hard to find. The consensus is that this bird was badly reduced in numbers during the days when shorebird hunting was a major sport as well as source of food and, for reasons that are not well understood, it has never really recovered. When I started birding in the '70s and '80s of the last century, it turned up with some regularity but since then it has become a real rarity on the East End. So it was a pleasure to see it among the other early shorebird migrants: Short-billed Dowitchers, Least Sandpipers, Black-bellied Plovers, the usual Willets and Oystercatchers and, yes, a real live Hudsonian Godwit.

Eric Salzman

Autumn in July?

It's hard to imagine, but fall migration begins in July!

There are even a few birds that show up in late June (notably Short-billed Dowitchers; I've seen 'em myself). But a more general migration usually gets underway by mid-July when warblers, shore birds and some others start to move. Unlike spring migration (when birds are in a hurry to get to the nesting grounds), the fall migration is leisurely and somewhat protracted -- mid-July to mid-October and later -- as birds seek out good feeding grounds to fatten up and get ready for the long haul.

I have mentioned the flocking up of Common Grackles as an extra-early sign of fall but this morning I had a better one: a Least Sandpiper that popped up peeping right out of the marsh. Leasts are very easy to recognize from their calls (don't call 'em 'peeps' for nothing) but they also have a very distinctive hunched flight silhouette and mode of flying with stiff wingbeats. The effect is a little like that of a Spotted Sandpiper but, unlike their Spotted counterparts, they are much smaller and rather uniformly brown. If there's a peep on this side of the bay, there will be a lot more down by the ocean.

Eric Salzman

young birds

This is the season of young birds: the young of the year, out of the nest, flying a bit unsteadily and moving around in groups, usually with the adults nearby to help out as they learn to find food for themselves. The biggest numbers are in the flocks of Common Grackles that move considerable distances and drop in unexpectedly, often combing through the woodland floor or semi-open fields for sustenance. At the other end of the spectrum are the young orioles which are easy to identify by sound but hard to spot in the tree canopy. The traveling groups of chickadees and titmice consist of 2/3rds young birds moving around with their brethren and sistern and an adult or two. Yesterday there were three Downy Woodpecker young chasing each other around a bare tree limb -- whether for play or in serious competition I couldn't tell. There has also been a young Red-bellied Woodpecker calling forlornly -- perhaps looking for a handout from its parents which were nowhere in sight. Northern Flicker has been calling rather consistently and Great Crested Flycatcher is also in the area but I haven't seen any evidence of successful reproduction in either species (also the Eastern Kingbirds have apparently disappeared; perhaps their nesting attempt was unsuccessful). A young N Cardinal, seemingly attended by both parents, was easy to identify with his black bill and rather dazed look. Some of the local Song Sparrows are also almost certainly young birds although they very quickly look like the adults (but something about their behavior and appearance usually gives them away).

In the flocks of swallows and martins that feed over the marsh there are now also a high percentage of flying young although it is not always easy to pick them out in flight. However I did see a couple of young Barn Swallows seemingly leapfrogging over each other just across the tops of shrubs along the water's edge; it certainly looked like a game. If Tree Swallows can play games with feathers why can't teen-aged Barn Swallows play leap frog?

In my recent enumeration of flowering plants, I neglected a remarkable local plant which is in flower right now. This is poke or pokeweed which has rather unprepossessing greenish white flowers that will later turn into those purple poke berries.

Eric Salzman

flowers

Germander has started to bloom. Its delicate and somewhat exotic pink flowers sprout from a spike that emerges from a low cluster of pointy, smoky, lightly notched green leaves that sprout from moist soil just back of the marsh in an open area at the edge of the woods. Germander, also known as Wood Sage (the scientific name is Teucrium canadense) is in the mint family and like other members of the family, has a rather striking little flower with projecting stamens from where the upper lip ought to be and a broad extended lower lip which perhaps offers a landing pad for fertilizing insects. This is the narrow-leafed variety known as littorale; it is certainly one of our more unusual wildflowers.

Another strange wildflower currently in bloom is easily overlooked as it is an unpossessing green plant with only the tiniest of tiny white flowers. But it has a whopper of a name -- Enchanter's Nightshade -- that gives this modest-looking botanical specimen more than a touch of mystery. To add to the strangeness, it's not a nightshade at all and the enchantment is elusive. The tiny white flowers are on longish stalks or racemes and each petal has two tiny little lobes (which makes it appear -- if you look through a magnifying glass -- as though each flower has four petals). and long stamens. The seedpods are tiny little flat paddles with a curious fringe on each paddle; apparently these pods will stick to clothes or fur. This plant is in the Evening Primrose family although it looks nothing like the familiar Evening Primrose. Its Latin name, Circaea, obviously refers to the fabled enchantress Circe. But why is this plant associated with magic? What magic? How did Circe get a hold of a presumably New World plant many centuries before Columbus? Apparently Circe seduced sailors like Odysseus into sticking with her just like the seed pods of her magic plant which she magically obtained from far-off America.

Another striking local plant currently in bloom is Spotted Wintergreen which, with its two-toned leaves, looks like a hot-house plant recently removed from the rain forest. The flower is a nodding, white, waxy affair that look positively unreal. Spotted Wintergreen grows in the mixed duff of pine and oak trees in sandy, pine-barrens soils. The fact that it grows in our woods tells me that these woods are an extension of, not the rainforest, but the pine barrens.

Other flowers of early summer: Yucca, Queen Anne's Lace, Black-eyed Susan (Rudbeckia), Rambler Rose (on its last legs) and the oddly named, blue-flowered Sheep's Bit (try saying that name several times quickly). Most of these are flowers of open areas and to find them I have to go to the edges of the property. The open area in front of the house is now too reduced by the encroaching woodland and too shaded during much of the day for most of these open-field plants to flourish.

Eric Salzman

young birds

Young orioles showed up this morning moving through the tree foliage in a loose group -- presumably all in a family. The easiest way to find young orioles is to listen for their distinctive calls. The first time I heard the double (tew-tew) or triple (tew-tew-tew) calls, I was genuinely puzzled as it resembles no other normal bird song or call. These birds

-- they usually come in small groups -- always strike me as quite greenish perhaps because of reflected light from the leaves. If you look in the guide books, you won't find anything that quite matches this color and at first I thought I had something exotic. A closer look reveals the oriole shape and structure, wing bars, pointy bill, etc. The closest match in print is probably Orchard Oriole but our birds are Baltimores, not Orchards (Orchards turn up here only once in a while). Usually the young Baltimores travel with one or the other adult. whose presence gives the game away. The calls -- distinctive young Baltimore sounds -- seem designed to help the orioles, young and old, to stay together but are also a kind of begging: "I'm over here, dad, and I'm hungry! Additionally, these excursions seem designed to help the young birds learn how to find food for themselves.

The Congress of Young Crows has been regularly reconvening in the open area in front of the house. There are at least eight or nine birds that participate in these events so these are individuals from more than one nest. At first, I thought they might be looking for food. They occasionally peck at the ground or even fly into low bushes where they seem to be nibbling at berries or insects. Sometimes they stand quite still on the ground facing away from the others with heads tilted back and beaks open as if waiting for someone to come and fill it (as they are standing in full sunlight, perhaps they are sunbathing). As I watch these congregations, I have become convinced that they are mainly practice socialization for young birds. There is a certain amount of hopping around and even some flying up on to branches and jumping or flapping back down again. And there is an almost constant sequence of vocalizations in that nasal honking tone that is typical of young American Crows. They are, I think, sorting out their places in crow society!

Eric Salzman

P.S.: Mike Higgiston reports a White-breasted Nuthatch at his place in East Quogue which reminds me that I forgot to mention the calling (singing?) Nuthatch on yesterday's report of our Grace Estate birdsong walk.

getting around

The search for better looks (and better photos) of Tuesday's mysterious plumed egret has sent me on an exploration of the neighborhood Shinnecock shores, visiting spots that are new to me or that I haven't traversed in a long time.

This morning I varied my usual route by cutting over to Bay Avenue, walking down to the town dock and, after vainly scanning the marsh and shoreline from that vantage point, returning via the Weesuck Creek shoreline, crossing a segment of marsh to reach the 'outer' bank of our pond. The tide was very low so it was easy to wade across the narrow neck where the water from the marsh drains out into the pond (and where, in a couple of hours, the tide will push back in). The few egrets that I could see were all Greats and one or two distant possible smaller egrets were just too far away and directly in the glare of the morning sun. I did spot a pair of Cedar Waxwings coming over the marsh and heading into the trees. These birds may just be starting to nest right now.

A locale that was new to me was the boat basin at Pine Neck landing. From this spot, it is possible to work one's way along the shore and bay edge of the Pine Neck Nature Sanctuary, formerly the De Ropp Estate. This property faces us on the east bank of Weesuck Creek but most of the marsh and shoreline is hidden from view from our side. Here it was possible to see that the Osprey nest (barely visible to us) has two flying young. This marsh is also home to some very vociferous Willets and considerable numbers of Saltmarsh Sparrows.

Both locales feature close-up views of martin colonies. The principal food of these giant swallows is dragonflies -- mostly, it would seem, the Seaside Dragonlets which hatch in some numbers in the two marshes. But they also take butterflies including a surprising number of Red Admirals. You might think that the striking colors of these beautiful butterflies would signal that they are distasteful but apparently the birds do not subscribe to this theory. Below are photographs of a captured dragonlet, a Question Mark, and a Red Admiral, all being sacrificed to insure the future of the martin tribe. The shots are by Luke Ormand (note the correct spelling of his name; I misspelled it yesterday) who was also looking for plumed egrets but took time out to document these elegant Purple Martin food preferences.

Eric Salzman

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