damp

The weather has certainly put a damper on things but I did get one new bird today: a Spotted Sandpiper on the muddy edge of our pond at low tide. This little teeter-totter bird is a familiar wader in fall migration (they often show up as early as mid-July) but this is the first one I've seen this spring. Parula Warbler and Red-eyed Vireo are both still here along with a Common Yellowthroat on territory. No more Yellow Warblers and no Pine Warbler. Similarly, the Great Crested Flycatcher and Eastern Phoebe are hanging in but Eastern Wood-pewee has seemingly moved on.

I found a fallen nest -- presumably from last year -- at the foot of a pine tree, probably knocked down by the fairly strong winds of the past day or so. It was a rather messy shallow cup made out of dead grasses with strips of bark on the outside and no real lining. What bird made it? My first thought was Chipping Sparrow but it's probably too shallow for a sparrow. Grackle? Probably too small. Mourning Dove makes shallow unlined nests but usually made out of sticks. Pine Warbler? Too shallow and too unlined. The best match is Scarlet Tanager -- it makes a small, shallow and somewhat messy nest -- but that's a bird that has never nested down here to my knowledge. Hmmmmm.

Eric Salzman

The mighty and the midgets

There was a Cooper's Hawk on the property this morning, sneaking around and apparently looking for its favorite prey: little birds. It first appeared over my shoulder and before I could get my binoculars up it had swooped by at a medium level and, gaining altitude, disappeared just over the treetops. Later I saw it (or another one) heading back out and around along the edge of the woods moving fast and at a good distance. I'm calling it Cooper's because it had a long tail and fairly broad wings; both were, by size, females of the species.

If the Cooper's was the mighty of my title, the midgets were the Common Yellowthroat and Yellow Warbler both of which seem to be tentatively setting up territories. The only other warbler seen was Yellow-rumped but there was a brief visit from a singing Red-eyed Vireo, a forest bird that is a regular visitor but never seems to stay and nest.

A Greater Yellowlegs accompanied by a half dozen Least Sandpipers was in the pond at low tide this afternoon, presenting yet another contrast in size, this time between sandpipers. The biggest local sandpiper is, of course, the Willet which was also in evidence.

Our two wrens -- Carolina and House -- are singing much less right now which suggests that they have just-hatched young. Or the persistently singing males have given up and are trying their luck elsewhere. The Carolina is the earliest nester around here, not counting the Great Horned Owl back in the woods.

Eric Salzman

restarting the blog

Greetings!

As spring migration begins to gather strength, I'm preparing to migrate myself -- from Brooklyn to East Quogue -- and I'm starting up my blog once again. I'll continue to file several times a week at least until the end of October!

This evening, Thursday, April 21st, at 8 pm, I'm doing a program on the "Birds of Israel" for Great South Bay Audubon at the headquarters of Connetquot River State Park Preserve in Oakdale. This is the old clubhouse, reachable from the westbound lane of Sunrise Highway.

Israel is the site of one of the world's great migrations (it is on the major migration route that goes from Africa to Europe and adjacent parts of Asia) and there are also large numbers of wintering birds plus local breeders, many of them desert species native to the Middle East. This program, similar to one I did for ELIAS (Eastern Long Island Audubon Society), derives from a visit I made last year in early spring and is illustrated by photographs, most of them taken by myself and Jonathan Merav, an outstanding Israeli birder and naturalist, who also helped organize my visit.

I was invited to Israel originally to do a presentation of my music-theater work at a conference at Hebrew University in Jerusalem and I'll preface the birding tour with some impressions of Old Jerusalem (there are a surprising number of native and migrant birds to be seen even in Jerusalem and we'll see a few of those as well).

Eric Salzman

after the storm

A gorgeous cool morning and a wet walk. The sunrise is now noticeably later (close to 5:45) and the sun now rises a good bit to the south over Pine Neck. Although the tide was fairly high, it wasn't the tide that dampened the promenade. After last night's dramatic thunder storm(s), every bit of vegetation was soaked and the fast-growing vegetation, heavy with moisture, was bending over the narrow paths around the edge of the marsh, dousing me with water at almost every step; by the time I got out of the marsh, I was dripping wet.

Wet above and below, I nevertheless made it out into the marsh fairly close to sunrise. Overhead there were numbers of Barn Swallows and Purple Martins criss-crossing in perpetual motion. It seemed as if every single Martin from the nearby colony, young and old alike, was in the air, swooping and chirping. Martins have a neat flight mode which generally consists of fast wing beats and then long glides and they like to chirp and chuckle as they hunt, generally fairly high in the sky (or, at least, at medium and medium high levels). Lower down, the Barn Swallows were in charge, often swooping just inches above the Spartina; they also make their distinctive little noises. Perched in the vegetation at the edge of the marsh were a young Catbird and a young Yellowthroat. A piping Spotted Sandpiper popped up out of the grass and flew to cover.

But the most intriguing moment of the morning came early on -- just shortly after sunrise. As I was first working my way out out towards the middle of the marsh, I became aware of some very striking sounds coming from the main channel which carries the marsh water from the mid-marsh open area over to the pond. What was it? Impossible to see in or track it any closer without sinking into the marsh mud; the Spartina alterniflora is at its peak right now and affords very few glimpses into the depths of the marsh. The sounds might best be described as high squeaks followed by lower-pitched trills. It could, I suppose, have come from a mammal but given the location, the tide and the character of the sounds, I would guess that it was a marsh bird -- most likely a rail. Which rail? Almost impossible to say. There are six species in N. America plus the Common Moorhen or Gallinule and almost any one of them could show up; except for Yellow, they are all breeders somewhere the environs of Long Island although only the Clapper is common. Virginia Rail bred here in 2004 and raised a chick and would be a good candidate.

Eric Salzman