The dog and I went out into the woods on a photo mission this afternoon, using the self-timer to shoot a couple of avatar-images for a new Twitter background. I worked in Photoshop to put together a custom background. Not a great idea to update on a Friday afternoon before big storm — slow slow page loads. The first draft looks like this:
Come visit me on Twitter.
A wonderful hour-long video of Snowy Owls is now available online or through your PBS station. I set my DVR for 5:00 AM tomorrow morning — check your local listing.
Watch Magic of the Snowy Owl Preview on PBS. See more from Nature.
Throughout the long months of the Arctic’s frozen winter, the sun remains below the horizon. The cold is intensified by the darkness, making life difficult, if not impossible, for all but the toughest and most experienced of animals. Snowy owls are built for the challenge, their every sense and skill honed to take on the eerie, bleak world. When the brief Arctic summer approaches, bringing light back to the tundra, snowy owls embark on an even more daunting challenge than keeping themselves alive. They breed and attempt to raise young in one of the harshest environments on the planet. Once summer arrives, they will have just 82 days of sunlight to successfully raise a family of helpless owlets until they are ready and able to fly. Documenting the degree of difficulty involved in those efforts, a team of filmmakers must face some challenges of their own as they set out to record the rarely observed daily lives of a breeding pair of snowy owls.
You can watch the full video here.
I try to make it over to Parker River NWR every time we visit this area and today I grabbed a few hours to check things out and practice some digiscoping. There were few tourists and birders and lots of ducks. Most of the ducks were feeding heavily so I gave up after taking way too many “duck butt” shots. I saw Gadwalls, Mallards, Teals, Pintails, Wigeons, Ruddy Ducks, Black Ducks, and a probably a few more. Four Mute Swans were in the Salt Pannes –here’s a shot of one preening.
We always check Mute Swans hoping for a Tundra…. some day.
Some of the highlights of the day were the hundreds of Double-crested Cormorants (with probably a Great or two in there) heading southward. I enjoyed watching two Northern Harriers hunting, using the northwest wind to hover and swoop. They are perhaps my favorite hawk.
Lots of sparrows still hanging out — Swamp, White-crowned, Savannah, Song, and several others too vague for me to identify. I need a sparrow guru with me on Plum Island. One Song Sparrow posed for some digiscoping:
On the way out, about a dozen Yellowlegs were resting. Here is one that was up and about and looking good.
In addition to good weather and good birds, it was nice to be at Parker River between hunting seasons. The adjacent waters are hunted heavily and it’s nice to have some peace and quiet — for us and for the ducks and geese.
Every fall and winter, harbor seals come into the Merrimack River. They congregate just opposite to the campground -they are very much a local attraction — to campers and day visitors to Salisbury State Park Reservation. Mary and I drove over today to see them as the tide was receding.
Named common seal throughout Europe, this seal frequently observed around Long Island lives along the shores of eastern Canada, New England and in the winter, as far south as the Carolinas in a variety of habitats. Their scientific name loosely means “sea calf” or “sea dog.” This latter nickname is well suited as these seals closely resemble a dog when their head is viewed at the surface of the water.
“Hey Guys, stop loafing and get to work. The fish are running.”
They were out on the rocks, lying with their heads and hind flippers elevated in a “banana-like” position. They were “talking” to one another and enjoying the fall cloud-filtered sunlight.
A Great Black-backed Gull posed as we watched the seals.
While harbor seals don’t do the tricks of the seals at Sea World, it was delightful to see them in their natural habitat, feeding, playing, and resting. Nice images to take back to a pending Vermont winter.
“Ah, just a couple of Mallards.” How many times have we said that when scanning through a group of waterfowl, looking for the rock stars: the Teals, the Hoodies, the Redheads … anything but plain vanilla Mallards. Like Black-capped Chickadees or American Robins, or even Blue Jays, it’s easy to take a “just another” attitude toward the feathered friends we see quite often.
But, there’s a lot to be said for bird watching, rather than birding from time to time: taking the time to observe, to admire, to just be present with … some call it slow birding. Here is one online description of the differences:
One person can be both a birdwatcher and a birder. Many bird lovers change their style of birding from day to day, some days more casually enjoying their familiar backyard birds, while other days focusing on chasing that new lifer or identifying a unique visitor. What both types have in common, however, is a love of birds that withstands any name rivalry.
The other day, I watched two pairs of Mallards feeding in the morning sun, oblivious to me scoping them from across the inlet. They just dabbled and preened and had a great time — it reminded me of hanging out in a great coffee shop, nibbling and sipping, just having a leisurely breakfast.
I watched a couple of Mallards leisurely feeding and dabbling, partly hidden by the foliage, enjoying the morning sun.
I’m usually not the most patient of birders — I have to consciously slow down and observe rather than just ticking the bird off on my iPhone and moving on. There’s a time and a place for that, but it’s also fun to make time to not only study the details of plumage but to learn more about what the birds that we see and hear are doing. It’s a work in progress for me. So Mallards, if I have maligned you in the past, remember deep down I think you’re cool-looking and acting ducks. Dabble on!
Today was a beautiful fall day to chase birds. I returned to Artichoke Reservoir which was rather calm after yesterday’s chaos. I was looking for the Greater White-fronted Goose that has been seen for several days in a row. My first pass on the various vantage points brought some nice birds: lots of Mallards, Pied-billed Grebes, a Double-crested Cormorant, a couple of Mute Swans, and about 20 Canada Geese but no target bird. I was early and knew that they had been overnighting in nearby cornfields and arriving later in the morning so I drove over to nearby Cherry Hill Reservoir.
I took a walk along the eastern edge, seeing hundreds of Ruddy Ducks, a couple of American Coots, a late Osprey, and numerous sparrows. A birder came walking up, with a dog on a leash, and asked if I’d seen the goose. When I said no, he told me that it had just flown in back at Artichoke — that he’d been there when it arrived. So, back in the car I went, stowing scope and tripod, and drove the ten minutes back. Sure enough, there was a gaggle of geese on the wind-swept water and after counting 49 and not seeing it, I went slowly back through the group and sure enough, there it was — smaller, orange bill, different coloration. Life bird 348! I took some digiscoped shots but they are for documentation — too far away and pretty windy.
A Greater White-fronted Goose on Artichoke Reservoir, West Newbury, MA.
As I was watching, a birder from New Hampshire showed up, and then another serious guy who’d driven yesterday to Rhode Island for the Wood Sandpiper. They got on the bird and then a woman arrived, mentioning that “the Great Cormorant was still at Cherry Hill Reservoir.” I asked her where and since I’d never spotted it, after watching the goose for a bit longer, I made the short trip back to Cherry Hill. I suspect that locals are used to birders by now.
I found the juvenile Great Cormorant — perhaps two — the photos look that way — on rocks way on the other side of the water. They digiscoped photo is pretty rough but the looks through the scope were good. Life bird 349!
I would have liked to see the Pink-footed Goose that someone reported a few days ago and my birder friends were really after that … but it may have been a misidentification or just left, as rare birds will do. I’m at the point in birding where I still have a number of not-so-rare birds to get for life birds. Hope to get one more this week — perhaps a Northern Gannet.
For the last several days, the MASSBIRDS listserve has had numerous reports of a White-fronted Goose spotted in a large group of Canada Geese on nearby Artichoke Reservoir. Someone also reported a Pink-footed Goose at the same location. So, I was thinking about skipping church yesterday but decided to attend and visit the reservoir afterward. Big mistake as it turned out.
I checked email after church and sure enough, two more reports reported the goose still in place so I was psyched. After a coffee stop, I drove the several miles to the turn down Turkey Hill Lane, the road that runs along the reservoir. I immediately encounted hundreds of plastic cups in the road and a few runners and thought, “Well, a local race must have just finished up.” Don’t I wish.
Soon, there were more runners, and spectators, and before I knew it, I had come to an intersection where runners were streaming in from another section of the race — and a local policeman was holding up his hand to stop me, and I had six or eight cars behind me blocking any exit. Here’s the scene, which doesn’t due justice to the number of people.
I talked to the cop who said we would just have to wait — and so I did, for about 20 minutes when finally I was able to turn around and backtrack. I decided to approach the reservoir from the south so I drove down I-95 to the next exit and found Turkey Hill Lane and it was deserted. I drove north for three or four miles and suddenly, a phalanx of runners came in from a side road and I was immersed in runners on the narrow road, I could see the reservoir, and saw a gaggle of geese, but runners were in the middle of the road, on both sides, and I was also in a convoy of vehicles. It felt like the Tour de France, albeit slower. This was the back of the pack and runners were walking, taking photos of one another, and nearly all had headphones. I crept ahead, with no other options, and pretty soon, an old tractor joined the procession. I came to an intersection clogged with runners, and who should I see but my policeman friend, vainly trying to sort things out. I snuck by, headed out and home, thinking that this was not my day. I’d got tangled up with a big half-marathon with over 2000 runners. I think I’ll try for the goose today when the roads should be calm and birder-friendly.
Mary and I drove three hours southeast to northern Massachusetts yesterday and it is like we became southerners. Not only have we changed stick season’s chilly rain and fog for mid-seventies and pretty foliage, I’m hearing and seeing birds that I thought I had seen the last of until spring. Seven Eastern Bluebirds this morning!
I have a walk from Jen’s house that I take nearly every morning I’m visiting — it’s a little over a mile down a busy road lined with oaks and often, very birdy. I got out yesterday morning early before the homeowners got their leaf blowers going, and before the traffic picked up. In spite of fog and a little drizzle, what a mix of bird noises greeted me.
We get a lot of Tufted Titmice here and I love their feistiness and constant chipping and singing. They are sparse in our Vermont woods but dozens were out and about, and a couple were pretty brassy, watching me at about eye level. I heard, and saw the whole woodpecker gang, missing only a Pileated. The other real noisy bird was a crew of White-breasted Nuthatches joined by a couple of Red-breasted cousins. Here’s the list from the hour-long walk:
Cooper’s Hawk 2
Red-bellied Woodpecker 2
Yellow-bellied Sapsucker 1
Downy Woodpecker 3
Hairy Woodpecker 1
Blue Jay 2
American Crow 1
Black-capped Chickadee 13
Tufted Titmouse 6
Red-breasted Nuthatch 3
White-breasted Nuthatch 6
Eastern Bluebird 6
American Robin 6
European Starling 12
Yellow-rumped Warbler 2
Dark-eyed Junco 6
Northern Cardinal 4
Later, Mary and I drove over to Cherry Hill Reservoir after doing some errands. There were lots of ducks on the water but the light was horrible. We did see a cooperative Northern Mockingbird who posed on a fence rail for quite some time, but flew off just as I got my digiscoping rig set up. We also saw a duck species I hadn’t seen since 2010 in Texas — Ruddy Duck. I took some photos through the scope but the light is not helpful other than for identification.
Ruddy Ducks are one of the “stiff-tailed” ducks.
We are going to be here for several more days so I hope to get out to Plum Island and up the Cape Ann to see what migration may be bringing in. Check back here for results.
Just about when the leaf peepers begin flocking to the roadways to observe Vermont’s spectacular autumn foliage, an equally-enthusiastic set of nature lovers is trekking up the peaks to watch a different seasonal event: the fall migration of raptors. Also known as “birds of prey,” this majestic group includes the eagles, falcons, hawks, vultures, ospreys, and the less-familiar but no-less-impressive group called the harriers, of which North America has only one (the beautiful Northern Harrier). Perched on a mountain outcropping, one can predictably see large numbers of these birds as they make their way to southern climes.
Whether you’re a veteran bird-watcher or a novice, raptor-watching (usually referred to as “hawk-watching,” even though other types of raptors are included) is a great way to spend an autumn afternoon. One of its draws is that the birds are highly visible. Unlike the diminutive songbirds, which hop around incessantly and hide in dense shrubs, raptors are large, steady, and during migration, exposed. Also, because each group of raptors flies differently and has a distinctive shape, these birds are easy to tell apart. The peregrine falcon, for example, has long, pointed wings, which it flaps continuously for its fast, powered flight. In contrast, the bald eagle rarely flaps and its broad, sturdy wings make it look like a flying plank. At the popular hawk-watching sites, you’re likely to find fellow observers on the summit to help you with identification; learn the shapes and flight patterns of the major groups and you’ll be a hawk-watching maven in no time.
So when and where is a Vermonter to begin? The peak of fall raptor migration is from mid-September to early November; try going at different times of the season to see different species. The most popular hawk-watching sites in Vermont are Mount Philo, 15 miles south of Burlington, and Putney Mountain in the southeast corner of the state. Snake Mountain in Addison and Mount Ascutney in Windsor are also decent spots, as are Coon Mountain, just beyond the ferry terminal in Essex, New York, and Mount Tom in Massachusetts, straight down the Connecticut River from Brattleboro.
In addition to being a popular place for recreational hawk-watching, Putney Mountain is also an official migration monitoring site. Because raptor migration is predictable and easy to watch, people have been counting migrating raptors and recording their numbers since 1934, when the first official count site was established at Hawk Mountain Sanctuary in Pennsylvania. Since then, numerous similar counts have been established all over the globe, from the Panama Canal to the Strait of Gibraltar. The long-term migration data collected at these sites allow scientists to monitor raptor populations; numbers vary greatly from year to year, but over long periods of time, scientists can identify trends. The decline in juvenile Bald Eagles migrating past Hawk Mountain Sanctuary in the 1970s alerted Rachel Carson to the threat of DDT to these important predators, and she wrote about this trend in Silent Spring, the influential book which led to the ban of that harmful pesticide. Visit the Putney Mountain Hawk Watch just for fun, or participate in the count to play a role in history.
(read whole article from VTDigger.com)
This piece is by Emily Brodsky, a master’s candidate in the ecological planning program at the Rubenstein School of Environment and Natural Resources at The University of Vermont.
I’ve been watching birds cache food this week. The days are shorter, and the birds are preparing for the next season. The nuthatches prefer the hulled sunflower, and they’re choosing the heavier seeds as those are the ones higher in fat content. Their activity begins very early in the day. The titmice are taking one seed at a time and seem to cache higher in the trees than the nuthatches. The chickadees are caching in the middle of the day, and their pantry of seeds is in a knothole in a maple.
This caching behavior has its advantages. They’ll retrieve the larder of seed on days when the weather isn’t suitable for them to for forage. Their warehouses are available when the long winter settles upon them and other sources are no longer abundant, and yes, their memories are sharp!
(written by Sue McGrath of Newburyport Birders)
