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The western
part of Palm County has some great birding spots. All are accessible
within an hour's drive of our home in western Broward County. This past
weekend, two of my grammar school classmates, Ron and Jack, and their
spouses were visiting Florida, and Mary Lou and I had the opportunity to
get together with them for a leisurly dinner at Outback Steak House in
West Palm Beach. It's hard to believe that seventy years ago, Ron and I
were in kindergarten together, and Jack joined us in first grade. We
were together all the way through graduation from St Mary High School in
Rutherford, New Jersey. We had a grand time swapping stories. We stayed
overnight in a Lake Worth motel, and used their visit as an excuse to
bird all day on the way up, and all morning on the way back home. Our
first objective was Loxahatchee National Wildlife Refuge. This is where
both Mary Lou and I saw our lifer Snail Kite and Limpkin on our first
visit, in 2002.
Mary
Lou and I observed our local Bald Eagle nest from about 8:00 to 8:45 AM
this morning. The female was feeding the eaglets when we arrived. She
flew off the nest after about 10 minutes and roosted in the melaleucas
for the rest of the time we observed them.The chicks were up and alert
for a minute or so, then rested down low in the nest. It’s getting hard
to tell the two largest apart– I thought they were arranged (left to
right) from oldest to youngest, but now I’m not sure. The middle
appears taller, but the left one seems to have less down on its head.
If the second is a female, she will be larger than an older male before
fledging. I will use this photo on the “Name the Baby Eagles” poll page
unless someone comes up with a better one and will give me permission
to post it there.Only about 5 minutes later, the male adult (his
distinguishing brown feather tail tip was better seen on another photo)
flew to the nest. Upon arriving, he either dropped the prey as he began
to land, or saw that there was no food in the nest, as he never entered
the nest and quickly dropped down and away. He returned only about 5
minutes later with prey.
Birds
and birders flock to water treatment plants. My first experience with
one was the sewage pond at Fort Bliss in El Paso, Texas. It was a green
oasis in the otherwise arid desert, chock full of shorebirds. It
smelled to high heaven! This one has a modest name, Stormwater
Treatment Area Number 5, STA-5 for short, managed by the South Florida
Water Management District, and located south of Lake Okeechobee in
no-man’s-land of Hendry County. In the middle of the sugar cane fields,
STA-5 consists of four large shallow ponds that occupy an area of eight
square miles. Audubon of Southwest Florida calls it one of the best birding spots in all of Florida.
Similar
to domestic sewage settling ponds, STA-5 receives waste water and
allows impurities to precipitate out and serve as food for millions and
billions of trillions of microorganisms, algae and water plants. But
unlike urban sewer plants, the source of the water is runoff from
Florida’s generous summer rains, and the waste is agricultural effluent
from the many farms upstream. Fertilizers, pesticides and herbicides
dissolved in the runoff are captured and stored before purified water
is released into the Everglades. Phosphorus is the main culprit. The
Everglades are historically poor in nutrients, and phosphorus
stimulates the growth of cattails that overrun the sawgrass that
normally carpets the River of Grass.
When walking in wild places, it is best to expect the unexpected.
More often than not, whether searching for a goshawk in the mountains
of New Mexico, the Red-headed Woodpecker in my favorite birding patch
in Illinois, or a Cottonmouth in the wetlands next to my Florida home,
my quest eludes me. Therefore, I keep an open mind and just wait for
each new day’s surprise. By South Florida standards, yesterday
morning was another in a string of unusually cold days. The temperature
was in the low forties, and a brisk breeze blew in from the north.
Insects were inactive in the cold. Tree leaves and grasses were
swaying, making it difficult to detect subtle movements that might
betray small creatures hiding in the foliage. Not a good day for
finding birds and butterflies.
My first stop, as usual, was a
patch of mostly exotic shrubbery at the edge of our subdivision,
happily left undisturbed by the landscaping contractors. It was
decidedly “un-birdy.” Even the usually reliable mockingbirds and
gnatcatchers seemed to have shunned it. Then I saw a flash of bright
red in a weedy patch just to my left. Too small for a cardinal. It had
to be a male Painted Bunting, the only other bird I could expect to see
sporting that color. So far, I had never seen a male bunting here, and
that would be a nice find. This turned out to be the first of two
surprises.
Observers of our local Bald Eagle nest have noted some interesting
behaviors. These are personal discoveries. They gain insights into the
lives of these magnificent birds, and it matters not that their
findings are not new to science. We learned that, unlike
many other birds, the eaglets do not abandon the nest after learning to
fly. After their first flight, the adults coaxed the fledglings back to
the nest with food. The youngsters returned to be fed at the nest daily
for two full months. Sometimes one or both would follow the parent as
it carried prey back to the nest.They
witnessed interspecific competition, as, for example, when an Osprey,
probably distressed after an eagle had stolen its fish, chased the
larger raptor back to its nest. The eagle did not endanger its chicks
by allowing its pursuer to make a close approach. Instead, the eagle
flew off until it eluded the Osprey, then returned to feed the fish to
the eaglets. They saw how smaller birds will harass the eagles
that roost in their territory by “mobbing” them until they depart. For
a video and my photos of grackles ganging up on an immature eagle,
Based
upon the eagles' change in behavior, I concluded that the first egg
hatched (or began to hatch) around noon on Friday, January 22. These
changes, first documented by a veteran observer, were: 1) Incubating
adult began resting higher in the nest; 2) Increased movement and
changes of position in the incubating adult; 3) Frequent looking down
into the nest.
Earlier that day, we had found the incubating adult continuously very
low in the nest as it usually appeared since incubation began on
December 18, 2009. This was the 35th day of incubation, which is also
the average length of time it takes a Bald Eagle egg to hatch. The next
day, January 23, observers reported more movement, almost restlessness
on the part of the incubating/brooding adult, which sat higher (more of
its body visible above the nest rim) and kept looking into the nest.
Later that day, another experienced observer saw both adults together,
looking down into the nest, something we saw last year just after the
chick hatched. There is probably a second, and possibly a third egg in
the nest, yet to hatch. Since eagles begin incubating as soon as the
first egg is laid, and the eggs are deposited about 3 days apart, they
hatch out in the order they were laid. This gives the first chick a
size and strength advantage over the others. If food its scarce, it
will out-compete its nest-mates for nourishment, and they will die of
starvation, be evicted or even eaten by the oldest eaglet.
...The
recent Florida cold spell also took a heavy toll on tropical fish.
Commercial fish hatcheries that catered to the pet trade suffered huge
losses. Introduced species, particularly tilapia and other cichlids
floated to the top of canals and lakes. The ditch along the trail in
our local birding patch was littered with the corpses of such species.
I realized that this was likely the reason why there were so many
herons, storks and ibises along the ditch last week, when I walked the
"patch"... Turning to another unpleasant subject, I again saw several
Cottonmouth Moccasins. One, swimming in the ditch, particularly
intrigued me. As I watched, the snake encountered a dead fish. It
appeared to "smell" it by resting its chin on it and thrusting out its
tongue. Then, to my amazement, the moccasin took the fish into its
jaws, shook it, then disappeared briefly under the water. When it
surfaced, the snake's mouth was empty. In fact, it opened up its mouth
for a moment. Then, the snake moved away, now apparently ignoring the
dead fish. Truly, I thought I had witnessed something new to science!
Cottonmouths, with their long fangs and poison glands are so well
adapted for killing and eating live prey. Why would one display such an
interest in the partially decomposed carcass of a fish? as I
subsequently learned, the Cottonmouth's scavenging habits are well
known to science. Indeed, some populations of this species subsist
almost entirely upon fish that are dropped by colonial nesting birds
such as herons.
Yesterday
provided a break from a long and record-breaking cold spell in South
Florida, with predictions that it will extend well into next week. Our
family and friends up north and in the mountains of New Mexico and
Arizona may chuckle when we complain about overnight lows in the high
30s and daytime highs that struggle to get out of the 50s. For the
first time, after living here for over five years, we finally had to
turn on the central heat. The wind chill is expected to dip to the mid
20s tonight. I took advantage of the warmth to get out into our local
birding patch. The water conservation impoundment that I call the "West
Miramar Environmentally Sensitive Area or Land (ESA or ESL)" is more
accurately described as the southeastern corner of the Broward County
Water Preserve Area, established under the Comprehensive Everglades
Restoration Program (CERP), as identified in the federal Water
Resources Development Act (WRDA) of 2000.
My
father's brother died four weeks ago. Yesterday we received a letter
from him. "Now that Father Dan is gone," our eldest daughter had
lamented. "there's no one left who will write letters to me." They were
frequent correspondents. What they wrote to each other I don't know,
but Karen felt a special bond with her great-uncle. At his funeral,
others of her generation (he had 69 grand-nieces and nephews) echoed
her sentiment-- each felt that he or she was his favorite person in the
world. I felt that way too, when, as a teenager, we exchanged
trans-oceanic air mail letters. At the very least, each of his friends
and relatives received an annual Christmas message. In the old days it
was typed out laboriously-- at first, mimoegraphed, later photocopied,
complete with strike-throughs and typos. Usually his letter included a
personal handwritten addendum. Several years ago, Dan entered the
computer world, and this increased his output.
Late
in November the New Jersey Rare Bird Alert reported the sudden
appearance of an Ivory Gull in the harbor at Cape May, New Jersey, Only
the size of a pigeon and and snow white, this little-known species
rarely ventures from the Arctic ice pack, even in winter. I had no idea
that I might have a chance to see it. This was only the fifth Ivory
Gull ever recorded in New Jersey, the last having been seen in 1986.
The Ivory Gull sighting was far from my mind when we received the sad
news of the death, in upstate New York, of my late Dad's younger
brother, Father Dan Schneider (See: Saying Goodbye . We viewed the
weather reports with apprehension, as a strong winter storm was just
moving up the northeast coast. My brother, who lives on Great Bay near
Atlantic City, New Jersey, talked us into flying into the Atlantic City
Airport to stay with him and his wife.
We
lost a dear friend and uncle this week. My late Dad's younger brother,
Father Dan Schneider, passed away peacefully at Maryknoll, New York,
where he was ordained a Catholic priest over 62 years ago. He would
have been 92 later this month. As I child, I remember visiting him at
the seminary, feeding the pigs, and, in a hedgerow next to the lawn,
finding a Chipping Sparrow nest that was constructed entirely of
horsehair. Dan was the first graduate of our High School to become a
priest, and I swelled with pride at his first Mass in our little stone
church in Rutherford, New Jersey. He spent years as a missionary in
Korea, and I wrote letters to him, addressing him as something like
"Tan-Ya Sawn Sin-Poo."
Our
mid-November spell of record hot and humid weather was broken with
passage of a cold front. This beautiful sunrise presaged a violent
thunderstorm that dumped lots of rain, followed by cooler nights and
almost cool to cold (by Florida standards) nights that dipped into the
low 50s.
The next day, three Wood Storks appeared on our back lawn, the first we
have seen in several months. Two were quite young, judging by their
still-feathered heads and dusky plumage. This morning, I might have
mistaken another white heron for an egret, but noted its bill had a
dark tip, typical of an immature Little Blue Heron. As the heron took
off, I was too late to get a nice flight shot, but did show that its legs
were dark greenish, unlike a Cattle Egret, and it did not have the
"golden slippers' of a Snowy Egret. A visit to John U Lloyd Park just
happened to coincide with the arrival, in Port Everglades, of the
world's largest cruise ship. "The Oasis of the Seas," set to make its
maiden voyage on November 28th. At the park, our little granddaughters,
visiting from the north, were delighted to find this little Green
Iguana, imbibing a Cocoplum fruit.
On
October 27, 2009, only 10 minutes after a feeder was put in place on
the Sandia Crest House deck, four rosy-finches appeared. This was the
earliest arrival since we began keeping records in 1999. Keep an eye on
the weather and road conditions before setting out on the 13 mile climb
to the top. Check out the many links in rosyfinch.com for more
information. Within the next week or two, we may expect to see
increasing numbers of all three rosy-finch species concentrating at the
deck feeder. Keep tuned for schedules of banding sessions, usually
conducted on Sunday mornings. Don't miss seeing this stunningly
beautiful local PBS documentary about the Sandias that includes a
segment on the rosy-finches. The four chapters of this film delve into
the cultural, geologic and natural history of the mountain. Chapter One
describes the ecology of the Sandias, and features the rosy-finch
banding project near the end. There are great views of the birds taken
at the Crest House, at the feeders and in the hand, not to mention
wonderful photography that makes me really miss my former mountain home!
I've
been trying unsuccessfully to get a photo of an Osprey diving for a
fish. This afternoon, Mary Lou called me to say that a Tricolored Heron
was peeking through the back patio blinds. It was probably hunting
anoles. I tried to photograph it, but the lens auto-focused on the
blinds and I just got fuzzy images of the bird's feet and neck. It flew
off to our lawn, on the shore of the lake. While I was taking its
picture I saw an Osprey overhead. I watched it fly to the opposite side
of our lake, then hover and dive. With the camera on 3 exposures per
second servo mode, I could not keep it in view. The photos were of
substandard quality, but I was pleased to capture the action. I missed
the splashdown. In the meantime, A cormorant ambled from our property
in to the water, and a Great Blue Heron looked on from a neighbor's
back yard. With the temperature above 90 degrees and the humidity very
high, Both were cooling themselves by gular flutter.
When
you live in South Florida you are never very far away from a canal.
Canals, and their smaller cousins, ditches, were the beginning of the
destruction of the Everglades. Canals and ditches lowered the water
table, shortening the hydroperiod and the amount of food for creatures
that need more water for survival. Levees are a by-product of canals
and ditches, as they provide a convenient source of fill for roads that
provided access for agriculture, mining, and development. In New
Mexico, roads had "borrow ditches" (usually pronounced "bar ditches")
along either side to provide runoff for snow melt or monsoon rains.
Most highways and through streets in South Florida have a canal that
follows them along on one side or the other. Roads further impede the
sheet flow that is so essential to the River of Grass. From the air, it
is easy to see how roads that transverse the Everglades act as dams.
Water levels are generally higher upstream to the north, and the
difference in vegetation on opposite sides of many roads bears this
out. The dry side of the road often has dense stands of shrubs and
hardwoods, while cattails and sawgrass flourish on the other side.
Canals are fed, not only by diversion of sheet flow, but by rainwater
runoff. Innumerable artificial lakes serve as reservoirs for
stormwater. Most of the lakes in developed areas are former quarries
that provided rock fill for residential lots and paved streets. My back
yard is bordered by such a lake. There is an upside to living near a
canal. Our local canal is only three blocks from our home, at the
border between developed land and protected uninhabited former
Everglades that is recovering from the effects of drainage, grazing,
and invasion by exotic vegetation. Our back yard lake communicates with
the canal by way of culverts and storm drains. A short walk brings us
to the levee that runs along its western edge...
Awaiting
the arrival of the second of a pair of "nor'easters," I write from the
comfort of my brother's home on a creek on Great Bay, which borders
Edwin Forsythe National Wildlife Refuge. The wind whistles against the
window screens. Yesterday, the storm created a tidal surge that brought
the water level within inches of the top of the bulkhead. Some
neighboring properties were flooded for a couple of hours. Continued
strong easterly winds foreboded a repeat performance today, when the
tide peaked in mid-morning, this time breaching the bulkhead and
submerging his boat dock for the first time in memory. Rain and gusty
winds have curtailed our excursions afield for the past two days, and
we do not expect the weather to clear until our return flight to
Florida on Monday. A week ago, we arrived in New Jersey from Illinois
with our daughter and her two children, to celebrate the weddding of my
younger sister's son. We spent a delightful three days, lodged in a
fourth floor oceanfront condo. The kids had their fill of wallowing in
the surf and playing in the sand. Our schedule permitted two brief
forays into Cape May Point State Park during the peak hawk-watching
season...
When
a pair of Bald Eagles decided to set up housekeeping in a tall
Australian Pine just off busy Pines Boulevard in Pembroke Pines,
Florida, they initiated an interesting chain of events. They were first
"discovered" in March of 2008 by Kelly Smith, a local Middle School
science teacher, who saw adults and a nearly full grown eaglet in the
nest. For a year or two before that, several local residents (and even
a bus driver who regularly ran the Pines Boulevard route) had seen
eagles roosting and carrying nest materials and prey in that general
location. All known Bald Eagle nests in Florida are registered by the
Fish & Wildlife Conservation Commission and their locations are
pinpointed on the FWC Web site, but the majority of South Florida
residents are unaware that, among the lower 48 states, Florida is
second only to Minnesota in the number of active eagle nests. A few
birders and local residents kept an eye on the nest site, which was in
full view only about 200 feet from the roadway. In November of 2008,
the pair of eagles started bringing sticks to the nest site. The female
settled down to incubate their eggs in mid-December. Ms. Smith's
science students engaged in a study of whether changes in traffic
density on Pines Boulevard had any adverse effect upon the eagles'
behavior. The presence of even one or two eagle watchers attracted
curious onlookers, some of whom became ardent observers as the pair
exchanged duties sitting on the eggs...
As
outdoor lovers, one of the advantages that we enjoy, by splitting our
time between South Florida and northern Illinois, is our exposure to a
a greater variety of habitats. In Florida, the autumnal equinox goes
virtually unnoticed, while here in Illinois we have seen a radical
change during the past couple of weeks. The soft greens of the prairie
have turned to golden brown, peppered by red leaves of sumac and a
final flush of yellow, white and blue wildflowers. In the woods,
falling leaves are a source of distraction as they compete with
flitting birds. On the first day of fall, we walked the eastern portion
of Nelson Lake/Dick Young Forest Preserve (See:
http://blog.rosyfinch.com/?p=261), listening for bird songs. A lone
Song Sparrow sang briefly and infrequently. A chickadee whistled a thin
"see--bee" love song as if it were spring again. Indeed, the shortening
of the days may stimulate biologic changes that cause birds to sing
snippets of their spring songs. Fernando Nottebohm studied canary song,
and in 1981, discovered that amazingly, the brains of the canaries
actually grew new nerve cells after the old ones died during the summer.
I
heartily endorse BirdChaser's advice that a healthy birder is one who
attains the Recommended Daily Allowance (RDA) of 20 bird species.
However,do not follow BirdChaser's rule blindly, as you may risk
missing your overall goal of balanced nutrition. Just as all our daily
calories should not come from M&Ms, it is healthier to adhere to
the Birder's Nutritional Pyramid (BNP). Just remember that 2 + 4 + 6 +
8 = 20, and proceed backwards up to the top of the pyramid. Start by
making a list of all the birds that you are likely to see at least once
in any ordinary week during the current season. These will be the raw
materials, the NUTRIENT LIST for your personal BNP. Then, select eight
"meat and potatoes" birds, to make up the base of the pyramid. No
substitutions are permitted!
Happily,
an expansive area of protected prairie is only a couple of miles from
our summer home in northern Illinois. Kane County's Nelson Lake/Dick
Young Marsh and Forest Preserve deserves to be renamed. Both the wooded
areas and the lake with its surrounding wetlands harbor a great
diversity of bird species at all seasons, but thanks to recent
acquisions, grasslands now predominate. Local resident Christopher
Cudworth's recent blog provides a bit of the history and feel of this
marvelous place. It's no surprise that Nelson Lake is at the top of our
list of accessible birding "patches"
In
recent weeks, at least eight Ospreys have died along a relatively small
stretch of the Florida Gulf coast in Pinellas County near Clearwater.
Food for the young appeared to be adequate this spring. According to
Barbara Walker, OspreyWatch Program Coordinator from Palm Harbor, these
birds have generally done very well. In her estimation, fledglings have
been produced in 90% of approximately 30 Osprey nests she has been
observing, all in heavily populated areas. Osprey watchers have counted
140 nests in the northern part of the county, of which 90% were on
man-made structures such as power poles, cell towers and nest
platforms. Barbara writes: "As far as we know they were all severely
emaciated...
We
listened for the elusive Henslow's Sparrows, but if any were singing,
they could not be heard above the whistling wind. To human ears, the
"song" of a Henslow's hardly deserves to be called that, as it consists
only of a single "chir-lip," delivered monotonously at intervals of
about 10 seconds. The bird seems to put its whole heart and soul into
each brief rendition, thrusting up its bill and often closing its eyes
as if enjoying the sound of its own voice. The song resembles the call
of a House Sparrow, somewhat shortened, rather loud but often muffled
by the tall grasses swaying in the breezes. It has a ventroliqual
quality, seeming to come from very nearby, but getting ever louder as
one approaches the vicinity of the songster. At one point it was so
hard to localize that it sounded as if the bird were sitting right on
top of my hat! These tiny birds, only 4 1/2 inches long and weighing
less than a half an ounce, once were very numerous on the central
plains. As has been the case with other grassland birds, the population
of Henslow's Sparrows declined sharply around the middle of the 20th
Century. In Illinois, studies suggest that the population of Henslow's
Sparrows declined as much as 94% between 1957 and 1979. Partners In
Flight designated this species as its highest priority among all
grassland birds for conservation in the midwestern United States. The
greatest decreases in songbirds have occurred among grassland species,
and the Henslow's Sparrow has been the hardest hit of all.
What
opens one's eyes to the wonders of nature? The great birder and author
Roger Tory Peterson described his "epiphany," when, as a child, he
picked up an apparently dead flicker and it sprung to life in his hands
and flew off. There was something about seeing the beauty of the bird's
intricate and colorful plumage so close at hand that ignited a passion
that was to change the world, not only for Roger, but for so many who
found, in his field guides, a portal that, once opened, would never
close. We have seen such a transformation occur among many of the
people who visited our neighborhood Bald Eagle nest in Pembroke Pines,
Florida. With a little help from the volunteer nest-watchers, "lookers"
often turned into "observers" right before our eyes. As observers, they
instantly developed an insatiable thirst for knowledge and
understanding, that may lead to greater appreciation and concern, and
spill over into a new ethic of conservation.
I
do miss visiting the local Bald Eagle nest in Pembroke Pines, Florida.
Those frequent short trips to the eagles' territory usually yielded
great views of the majestic raptors. Their first chick fledged 66 days
ago, on May 4, and the second left the nest two days later. Although
they soon flew freely and effortlessly and by now have surely developed
their hunting instincts, they continued to return to the nest for
occasional feedings from the parents-- that is, until May 22, after
which Hope, the older eaglet, suddenly disappeared. At about the same
time, the adult female disappeared, leading us to speculate that they
may have migrated together. As of this writing, it appears that
Justice, who was last observed being fed at the nest on May 30, was
last seen on June 4, along with one remaining adult.
Our
time back in Florida has sped by so quickly. Since we had a house
guest,we went sightseeing at several of the popular tourist
destinations. It rained regularly every afternoon, so there were
morning jaunts to Butterfly World, Fort Lauderdale river front and
harbor cruise, and other points along the Atlantic coast and out
Alligator Alley. There was little time for birding, though we took the
tram ride at Shark Valley in Everglades National Park, and got out very
early to visit our local Bald Eagle nest a couple of times. The two
chicks produced by the eagle pair have been flying freely for eight
weeks. We were surprised to find that the parents continued to bring
food to the nest right into this past week. The older chick, named
Hope, was last seen on Saturday, May 30, the eighteenth week after she
hatched. Her younger brother, Justice is still returning to the nest,
and was possibly fed a small meal by a lingering adult only this
morning. The feedings have been progressively smaller and infrequent.
We
arrived in Florida late on Wednesday, and got out early the next
morning to check our local Bald Eagle nest. The chicks (named Hope and
Justice in a nationwide poll) are 18 weeks old this weekend. They
fledged at 11 weeks of age, and usually spend the night in a roost
together near the nest tree. They still return to the nest for
occasional feedings. The portions brought in by the parents seem to be
smaller and are offered less frequently. Although none of the observers
has seen either of the eaglets with prey, we must assume that they are
learning to hunt for themselves. When we got to the nest at about 8:30
AM, no eagles were in sight, but within a few minutes both of the
youngsters flew in and roosted in trees right along the road. Justice,
the younger sibling, followed his older sister to the tree...
Our
daughter's family dog is a golden Tibetan Mastiff named Agramonte. He
is now 17 months old and is a wonderful companion for their two small
children. An ancient breed, Tibetan Mastiffs retain some features of
ancestral wild canids. They mature slowly, taking about 4-5 years to
attain full size. They also go into oestrus only once a year, and have
a rich undercoat that is shed all at once in the spring. This means
that they do not release dander into the air for about 11 months of the
year, so they are considered to be "hypoallergenic." This was an
important consideration, as one of the children suffered severe
allergies from their previous pet, a Dobie-Lab mix named Maceo. The sad
story of Maceo's last days is detailed here: Losing a Best Friend
So
far this spring, we have failed to see a bluebird. From the reports of
local birders, we know they are around, but family obligations have
kept us from going very far afield. Still, they were present last year
at a nest tree in Jones Meadow Park near our home, and we have tried to
squeeze in even a half hour of birding, there or at another Batavia
(Illinois) park, Hawk's Bluff Park, most mornings during the past
couple of weeks. While searching for the returning bluebirds, we saw
another member of the thrush family that has shown up in good numbers
this spring. This dull-backed species lacks the reddish tail of the
Hermit Thrush, sports buffy cheeks and a prominent eye ring. A
Swainson's Thrush posed on the turf, and then took up a perch to peer
back at us.
We
set out this morning to Lippold Park in Kane County, Illinois, hoping
to see our first Scarlet Tanager of the year. For the past week we
searched for them in vain. Today we were not disappointed, for within
15 minutes we heard its husky "robin with a sore throat" song. As it
was early and overcast, and the bird kept to the treetops, nearly all
my photos were badly backlit and showed little color or detail. We
logged 37 bird species, several heard but not seen, and obtained few
good photos because of the light conditions and the fact that many were
small guys flitting in the treetops. A pair of resident Eastern Towhees
were courting and calling loudly. They let us get quite close. Later in
the afternoon, I walked our daughter's family Tibetan Mastiff,
Agramonte, and birded Hawk's Bluff Park in Batavia. Located along the
western bank of Mill Creek, this new small park is host to varied
habitats including a tall oak woodland, grasslands, stream and marsh.
This afternoon's dog walk yielded 43 bird species. The light had
improved, so I did get a few nice photos.
Yesterday
morning we had a break from the rain and headed for one of our favorite
spring birding spots. Lippold Park hugs the east bank of the Fox River
between Batavia and Aurora. Thanks to recent rains, the river ran fast
and was barely contained within its banks. The sky was blue and the
wind had not yet picked up. The ground was still quite wet. Many trees
were in blossom, and bird songs were almost deafening. Such is spring
in the north, in strong contrast to its rainless and prolonged arrival
in Florida. It is the spring of my childhood in New Jersey, when
warblers of several species often decorated the bare tree branches. As
usual, I birded mostly by ear, and Mary Lou made most of the sightings.
Between the notes of the robins, Yellow-rumped Warblers, Song Sparrows,
and House Wrens, I was momentarily stumped by a familiar melody of
quiet chortled whistles followed by a very loud "WICHEY-WICHEY-WICHEY."
I last heard this song over five years ago in the mountains of New
Mexico, when I would have immediately recognized it as that of a
Ruby-crowned Kinglet, but now I spent a quarter of an hour tracking
down its source. It is amazing how some of the smallest birds, such as
wrens and kinglets can make such loud noises.
After
participating with a hard-core bunch who have monitored the local Bald
Eagle nest since two eggs were laid in mid-December, we must now be
content in our new role as virtual eagle-watchers. Here is Mike
Fossler's slide show depicting recent events in the lives of the two
Pembroke Pines eaglets, Hope and Justice, now 14 weeks old and flying
freely for three weeks. They still return to the nest to rest and
sometimes are fed by their parents, but they are surely learing how to
find food on their own. It had snowed in Chicagoland the day before we
arrived. To our delight, temperatures had warmed to the high 70s by
noon, and the sun was shining bright. We took our three year old
granddaughter to nearby Jones Meadow Park. While Mary Lou supervised
her at the swings and slides near the park entrance, I walked the 3/4
mile asphalt path that skirts a lake, woods and wetlands to the north,
and the back yards of homes to the south. The brown grasses and sedges
have been flattened by the weight of the past winter's generous
snowfall. Low spots in the meadows and woods are flooded in spots aptly
called "fluddles" by local birders. Various frogs and toads chirp and
croak. The trees are mostly bare, though willows at the edge of the
path are greening up.
Why
do small birds sometimes seem to put themselves at risk by harrassing
and even attacking much larger raptors? I have seen fragile little
chickadees, titmice, and nuthatches join larger robins and jays to
surround and scold a hapless Long-eared Owl or Red-tailed Hawk.
Sometimes, mammals such as chipmunks and squirrels join the birds,
calling excitedly and flicking their tails nervously. Red-winged
Blackbirds are known perch on the backs of larger hawks to pluck a few
feathers as they drive them away from their nesting grounds. In my New
Mexico back yard, I once watched several Mountain Chickadees and
Bushtits join a group of jays and Clark's Nutcrackers to take on a
Merlin that was perched out in the open. The small falcon could have
easily made a meal of even the larger birds, yet it merely held fast to
its perch and appeared to be screaming back at the annoying assembly.
Many of us have seen mockinbirds attack alley cats, actually striking
them on their backs. (In Dallas, I saw a cat actually catch and kill a
mockingbird doing just this). In Alaska, I was mobbed by Arctic Terns
when I approached too close to their nesting colony.
We
have been spending so much time with our Bald Eagle family that I have
suffered from a deficiency of my RDA, BirdChaser’s
“Recommended Daily
Allowance” of 20 bird species. Yesterday morning, the temperature
was a
crisp 68 degrees as we started our morning walk into the West Miramar
Environmentally Sensiteve Land (ESL), our local birding "patch.". As
before, we kept up a brisk pace on the way out. Near our 1 1/2 mile
turnaround point on the gravel road, I began falling back to take more
pictures. I understood when Mary Lou wanted to keep up the pace, and
watched her disappear in the distance. Photographers can really be a
bore as they retract into their own little world of composition and
exposure. An excited Killdeer flew across my path. Fluttering on the
ground and looking for all the world as if it were mortally wounded, it
was telling me that I had approached too near its nest. I applied
"reverse Kildeer logic" to quickly find the nest. If the Kildeer ran
right, I went to my left. If it ran away, I turned around. As I got
nearer the nest, the distraction display was more fervent, and its
rufous red tail and rump became all the more visible.