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22 December 2014. Barefoot Beach, Naples, Florida. This morning we went looking for Black Skimmers.  What a bird! They’re related to gulls and have one of the avian world’s oddest modes of feeding: in full flight, its disproportionately long lower mandible slices or skims the surface of the water to sieve and capture whatever might be there. How it distinguishes between the edible, inedible and trip-hazards I’d love to know, whatever the technique, they seem to make it okay. Below is a photo of a skimming skimmer taken near Cape May earlier this year.

We immediately found a large bunch of Black Skimmers along with a few gulls and terns loafing at the water’s edge, they were very approachable and I could have shot some great portraits had they cooperated.  Most of the skimmers were contentedly dozing, their beaks tucked under-wing, and any that looked up did so only momentarily; I was nowhere near quick enough. My morning’s pleasure though, came from the appreciation of three species of terns: Sandwich Tern, Forster’s Tern and Royal Tern.

I had never knowingly seen a Sandwich Tern before this week. Had our friend Eric not casually noted one flying past and commented on its black-with-yellow-tip bill, I probably could have easily overlooked the few that were hanging around. The books distinguish Sandwich Terns from Common and Forster’s Terns by subtle clues: their relatively slender wings, long bill, paler grey upperparts and that yellow-tipped bill; not much to go on. It’s a widespread species and apparently gets its name from the town of Sandwich, England where the first specimen was taken (shot). Still, it’s a rather distinguished looking bird even in winter plumage; in breeding plumage the head has a full jet-black cap and a rather rakish crest, a vestige of which is visible in a couple of the shots above.

On the other hand, I have seen and admired Forster’s Terns many times. There’s a large inland marsh about a two-hour drive from home and Forster’s are more or less the default tern there in the summer months. Field guides are somewhat helpful in drawing attention to what they call the breeding adults’ ‘frosty’ wingtips seen when flying. It’s true enough, once you get the hang of it; at least it helps separate them from Common Terns, which are likely to be not far away, Common Terns’ wings look overall rather dark. These photos also show how, at close quarters, the Forster’s Tern’s red feet are very distinctive; another handsome bird.

Most entertaining were Royal Terns, a few juveniles in particular. There was no shortage of Royal Terns along this stretch of coast, they look and behave very much like our more familiar Caspian Tern; they’re large, can be noisy and have a conspicuously shaggy crest. Last summer’s young are still being cared for by their parents and will remain somewhat dependent on them for another two or three months. One would think that by now they are able to fish for themselves, at least to some extent, but they obviously haven’t given up the expectation of a free handout. We watched a few chicks noisily begging their parent for food using a combination of posture and interminable pleading that few human parents would tolerate for many minutes. The series of shots on the gallery below shows, far more clearly than words can describe, the postures and attitudes of both parent and child, all that’s missing is the wretchedly endless pleading squeals of the youngster.

This post contains many photos in galleries visible only on the website, not if you’re reading this as an email. You can also view many more of my photos of shorebirds, herons and the like in Florida by clicking on this link.

December 17 2014. Turner River Florida. I’m told and willingly accept that a Short-tailed Hawk seen circling low overhead should be my Bird of the Day; it has to be. Well, I’d never seen one before in my life and until moments ago I didn’t know they were rare; actually really quite rare.

With friends we had been canoeing down a river on the edge of the Everglades in Florida. This was a canoe trip like no other that I’ve ever done (and I’ve done a few).  Under the patient direction of a park employee, we paddled at least half of our journey along a faintly defined watercourse through a mangrove swamp. Mangroves are those tropical waters-edge trees that put down arching roots to create a three-dimensional low-level waterlogged prison.

I said that I’ve done a few canoe trips and that’s neither an overly modest nor an exaggerated assessment. I’m no expert paddler but I do get the mechanics of paddling, steering and progressing along an intended course. This is infinitely more than can be said for one of the other canoeing couples in our little flotilla. I think you’ll readily appreciate that it makes no sense whatsoever for both paddlers (assuming one in front and one behind) to paddle on the same side of the vessel when the intention is go straight ahead. Similarly, should you wish to avoid an obstacle it is never a good plan to point the front of the canoe at the obstacle and paddle hard. Someone should have told Ken and Irene about this; they made me feel like an expert.

How or why anyone found our route to begin with is beyond me, much of our progress was achieved by grasping overhead branches and pulling our canoes along, we spent a lot of time bent double avoiding a skull-raking or neck-snapping obstruction. Mangrove swamps are essentially impenetrable to humans; somehow we paddled one of the few that is not, although I wouldn’t be surprised if it didn’t close in behind us after we’d gone through.

Going through the mangrove tunnel was not a birding experience, but once clear of it we found ourselves in the middle of an expanse of Florida’s wild land; and there were some interesting birds. An American Bittern standing on the river’s edge was a gasp-making sighting for most of our party, and so it should be. I’ve had the good fortune to see perhaps five or six bitterns this year, a goodly number; and I would have counted it as my Bird of he Day had I not seen a Short-tailed Hawk shortly afterwards.

Our companion Eric had earlier mentioned to always check soaring kettles of Turkey or Black Vultures lest a Short-tailed Hawk or some other oddity had somehow found its way to join them. So at lunch, standing wet-footed where the canoes had been pulled ashore, I dutifully scanned a rather low group of wheeling Turkey Vultures for just that eventuality; and there, sure enough, was a hawk that I didn’t recognise but knew by elimination had to be a Short-tailed. I nudged Eric, gestured skyward with my cheese sandwich and casually noted the Short-tailed Hawk as expected. It wasn’t a wow moment for me but it sure was for Eric; grabbing for his binoculars he almost lost his sandwich and fell back over a canoe he was so thunderstruck. This, he assured me, was a very fine bird indeed, a real rarity. And here’s the thing, I just took it as yet another new-to-me-in-this-lifetime bird; there had been several over the past 48 hours and while they were all eye-brow raising events none had yet made me choke with excitement.  Perhaps the Short-tailed Hawk will grow on me; for now it’s Bird of the Day thanks to Eric.

You can view many more of my photos of shorebirds, herons and the like in Florida by clicking on this link.

 

 

December 16 2014. Naples Florida.  This and the next few posts are about birds enjoyed on a pre-Christmas week escape to summery Florida. It’s not just poolside lolling around for us though, we’re with friends whose idea of a good day is one spent birding, scrutinising leafless trees for orchids, wading hip-deep through dark swamps in alligator country, or anything else necessary to explore the natural riches of the state.

Today, as an introduction to the state’s wonders, we walked to a long white beach where shorebirds and beach-combers share the water’s edge on equal terms. In much the same way you enter a supermarket and are beset by lettuce here, oranges straight ahead and breads and muffins to the left, so it was here with birds: Black-bellied Plovers, Ruddy Turnstones and Sanderlings in front, Willets right behind them and Snowy Egrets just a short distance away.

The beach captivated me with Sanderlings like miniature wind-up toys skittering along the advancing and retreating wave-edges, Willets oh-so-stoically letting the water wash around them, and Semi-palmated Plovers wandering up and down, sometimes hopping up onto much drier ground to pick for food wherever it may be found. Ahead of us, the Tri-colored Heron, in the gallery below, stood, sometimes washed by the waves, watchful and waiting for fish and every now and then it would thrust deep into the surf and bring up something small, silver and wriggly.

Black-bellied Plovers are anything but black-bellied at this time of year. When we see them in Ontario, usually in August or September, it’s quite clear how they get their name, but that black undersides is a breeding plumage affectation and is moulted away to leave a generally mottled and greyish-brown bird (above). Grey Plover is how the same species is known in the U.K.; both names have their time and place. Whichever name you give them, they, like most plovers, are endearing birds, they have an earnestly vulnerable look about them that makes you want to love and protect them.

Protect them we must, for a least one plover species, the Piping Plover, is in trouble and is considered an Endangered Species in the U.S.A. and Canada. It is a sparrow-sized bird of wide sandy shorelines and chooses to nest on open sand beaches where a bare scrape or hollow is all it needs by way of a nest. The big problem is that such beaches are popular with people too, some of whom bring dogs or ATVs with them or are just plain unwittingly careless; bad for Piping Plovers.

I was ready to call the Tri-colored Heron my Bird of the Day until we turned a corner and found another group of Sanderlings pottering around and with them a single Piping Plover; a wow bird to be sure. We sat quietly and it paid us no heed, gradually moving in closer. I took several pictures and then we noticed that it bore a small green flag on its right leg, a sign that it had been part of a closely studied brood somewhere and, as a chick, most likely captured, weighed, tagged and released. Reviewing my photos later, we realised that the letters on the flag were readable – E3Y, and that it had an orange band above its right knee. With a bit of on-line research I determined that researchers from Virginia Tech had originally tagged this bird, so I excitedly sent them an email. The next day I received a reply which, condensed a little, read: “Thanks for reporting this banded plover! … this bird was banded as a chick by researchers from Virginia Tech on Fire Island NS, NY in June 2014. It has been re-sighted around the Naples area for the past month. What a life!”

Above and below are a few photos of this magical little bird. Knowing just that little bit more, about one individual in a species hanging on by a thread, was really quite a thrill. That it had hatched just six months ago, grew to maturity on an Atlantic beach and subsequently migrated down the coast and across peninsular Florida was more than enough to make it my Bird of the Day.

You can view many more of my photos of shorebirds, herons and the like in Florida by clicking on this link.

 

14 December 2014. Burlington ON. I walked a long muddy creek-side trail this morning resolving to repeat the route on a regular basis and record all birds seen and heard, tallying individual numbers as well as species. I find it more rewarding doing this sort of thing, I call it project-birding, studying, observing and recording birds as part of a greater effort rather than just list-ticking or aimlessly wandering. If my resolve holds, it will be a mini-study that will not only get me out of the house, but should also shed light on changes in the winter species mix from now until spring.

The day was overcast, dank and just a touch above freezing, we’d had drizzle earlier this morning and melting snow made it soggy underfoot; a gloomy December day.

My Bird of the Day, a single Winter Wren, was found towards the end of the walk. It was poking through a thick tangle of roots, branches and dried grasses in search of food. Dense piles of debris, upturned root-balls or tiny crevices are almost the exclusive preserve of Winter Wrens; most other birds are much too large. If they have to fly they do so in short bursts from one deeply inaccessible spot to another. They’re tiny, about the size (and shape) of a golf ball, but much more interesting.

Our Winter Wren used to be found more or less right around the temperate northern hemisphere, from coast to coast across North America and straddling the entire expanse of Eurasia. Recently, skeptical scientists, doubting that one species could possibly be so widespread, took a closer look and spoiled all the fun. They have decided that henceforth there are really three separate (though virtually identical) species, so now there’s the Eurasian Wren and, in North America, the Winter Wren and Pacific Wren.

Wrens are a New World family so undoubtedly the ancestor of all of them originated in North America. But the question is, did it the precursor species spread westward into Eurasia across the Bering Straits, or did it make its way east across the Atlantic somehow; or both? There are no answers to this yet, but whatever its origins it is a very successful creature.

For the most part, my other observations this morning were pretty much as expected: Black-capped Chickadees, White-breasted Nuthatches and Mallards made up the majority of birds seen. A small group of Blue Jays became noisily agitated about something out of my line of sight and a pair of American Crows likewise started harassing the top of a White Pine, probably an an owl or hawk got them excited.

I enjoyed watching a large group of Slate-colored Juncos and American Tree Sparrows working over the seed-heads of a large expanse of faded goldenrod and a two male Northern Cardinals seemed to want to chase each other around but lacked conviction.

I’ve added a few of pictures of Winter Wrens from summer days when they were more inclined to show themselves, particularly the singing one in the gallery above. I was able to use the video feature on my camera to capture some of its exuberant song, click this link to see and hear it.

10 December 2014. Burlington ON. In past years I have offered food to our backyard birds but found that by December they’d all flown south and my urban neighbourhood became an avian wasteland; so I don’t do it much anymore. A touch paradoxical you might think, that a guy who clearly spends so much time in the study of birds doesn’t even hang up a piece of suet. Still, that’s the way it is. The upside is that my birding gets me out of the house.

But this morning, wandering into a back room, I look out to see a Sharp-shinned Hawk perched on the top rail of my back yard fence; It was certainly a wow! moment. It was looking around with quick movements, searching for food I imagine, and a few moments later it took off. Bird of the Day before the day had really got started.

I frequently hear from people that a hawk of some kind had appeared from nowhere to seize a Morning Dove from their bird feeder. As often as not it’s about the explosion of dove feathers amid the carnage, but sometimes it’s a tale of woe and rage against the vile hawk. My bet is that the hawk of some kind is a Cooper’s Hawk (which have a preference for larger birds like mourning Doves) or maybe a Sharp-shinned Hawk (which, being smaller, will usually go for smaller birds like juncos); both are ambush hunters built to fly fast through dense woodlands and grab unwitting prey. Backyards with bird feeders are nothing if not well-stocked wintering habitat.