tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50182209385567715882024-03-13T22:44:17.859-07:00Birding Bros. BlogUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger192125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5018220938556771588.post-59243170099519895592013-03-11T14:26:00.000-07:002013-03-11T14:26:28.491-07:00The Vanellus Icing on the Cake<br />
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You know that feeling you get when you turn on the radio and
hear “Bum bum bum bada bumbum!” and you’re like “Heck yeah, Under Pressure is
my jams!” But then instead of hearing Queen and David Bowie it ends up being “Ice
Ice Baby”? Multiply that exact feeling of disappointment by several magnitudes,
and you’ll know what it’s like to miss a mega rarity.</div>
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Although I saw it on the first day it showed up, James had
never seen a <b>Northern Lapwing</b>. This particularly reliable individual had
been hanging out next to a pond in rural <st1:place><st1:placename>Person</st1:placename>
<st1:placetype>County</st1:placetype></st1:place>, and as soon as James came
home for Spring Break, we headed out to see it. We arrived to see a half dozen
birders milling around their scopes, and it soon became clear the bird hadn’t
been seen since that morning, when a bold photographer ventured to close and
flushed it from its favorite field. It was a tough loss.</div>
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So instead we turned our minds to herping. Even though it’s
been quite frigid outside, the herping season kicked off with a bang. Salamanders
prefer to do their breeding in the moist and cold weather of late February and
early March, as the summer months prove a little sweltering for them. James and
I visited a couple sites in <st1:place><st1:placename>Duke</st1:placename> <st1:placetype>Forest</st1:placetype></st1:place>
and after turning a couple logs, we found our lifer <b>Spotted Salamanders</b>.</div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BgbyI1cwk2U/UT5K-WiSNlI/AAAAAAAAEhI/KMiC4ZDOcBU/s1600/spottedsalamander.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="363" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BgbyI1cwk2U/UT5K-WiSNlI/AAAAAAAAEhI/KMiC4ZDOcBU/s640/spottedsalamander.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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It’s a species I’ve been wanting to see for quite some time,
and these large salamanders have the typical <i>Ambystoma </i>temperament. They
are extremely docile and slow-moving, probably a side effect of having to breed
in 40-degree temperatures. However, our next quarry couldn’t have been
different. In a different part of the forest, we found a ton of <b>Red-backed
Salamanders</b>, including one log that had seven individuals under it!</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-h6CPHIG5oDc/UT5L12Kj6yI/AAAAAAAAEhQ/BboVUx4W0eM/s1600/red-backed+salamander.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="356" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-h6CPHIG5oDc/UT5L12Kj6yI/AAAAAAAAEhQ/BboVUx4W0eM/s640/red-backed+salamander.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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They’re the complete opposite of <b>Spotted Salamanders</b>.
Small, lithe, and quick moving, the <b>Red-backed Salamanders </b>were
extremely difficult to photograph, and would often scurry off the log before we
could photograph them. There are two color morphs of these guys – one dull and
gray (the “lead-backed” kind), and one much more vibrant (the nominate “red-backed”).
Of course, we wanted to photograph the more colorful type, which we soon
achieved with a little luck.</div>
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But James was still left without his lifer <b>Northern
Lapwing</b>. After a report that the bird had returned to its field the day
after we missed it, James planned another trip without me (who knew work could
be so lame). Again, James found himself in the same situation we faced the
first time: he was at the field; the bird was not. After several birders came
and went, the bird magically appeared in a far corner of the field, and he was
able to snap this long-distance photo.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MswFIm2CnPs/UT5KuLdABsI/AAAAAAAAEhA/7LOoFfGhrFY/s1600/lapwing2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="315" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MswFIm2CnPs/UT5KuLdABsI/AAAAAAAAEhA/7LOoFfGhrFY/s640/lapwing2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Vanellus vanellus </i>- the lapwing so nice they named it twice.</td></tr>
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Normally, just seeing a European mega-rarity is treat
enough. It’s especially relieving for James, because he went to <st1:place>Europe</st1:place>
and still missed this great shorebird. But to photograph what constitutes the
third record of <b>Northern Lapwing </b>for <st1:state>North
Carolina</st1:state>, the first one that’s even been chaseable?
That my friends, is the <i>Vanellus </i>icing on the cake. <o:p></o:p></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5018220938556771588.post-88656588528815130422013-03-07T13:34:00.002-08:002013-03-07T13:45:37.736-08:00So Long, "Crap"-tree<br />
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Out by <st1:place><st1:placename>RDU</st1:placename> <st1:placetype>Airport</st1:placetype></st1:place>
there’s this local reservoir called <st1:place><st1:placetype>Lake</st1:placetype>
<st1:placename>Crabtree</st1:placename></st1:place>, and it’s supposed to be this
great birding spot with loads of ducks in the winter with the occasional rarity
mixed in. But there aren't many accessible points to view the lake from, and the
birds always seem to be out of scope range. Add to that the cold and wind that
seem to accompany our outings there, and it all adds up to one relatively
miserable time. So James and I have given it a nickname: <st1:place>Lake</st1:place>
“Crap”-tree. And each time I visit, I swear I’ll never go again.</div>
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That is, until James and I had to pick our sister up at the
airport. We were in the area, so we figured why not get a little birding in?
The best place to check out the lake is the dam on its back side, and as soon as
we got out of the car, we saw a nice raft of <b>Hooded Mergansers </b>with some
<b>Red-breasted Mergansers </b>and <b>Redheads </b>mixed in. A nice <b>Eastern
Meadowlark </b>called down-slope from us and our second <b>Osprey </b>of the year
flew overhead – a much better start than we usually get from birding Crabtree!</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7hMIdfahF3I/UTkGl7EKUOI/AAAAAAAAEgY/bfjjybEGsi0/s1600/osprey.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="328" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7hMIdfahF3I/UTkGl7EKUOI/AAAAAAAAEgY/bfjjybEGsi0/s640/osprey.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ospreys are back, Fish Crows are back - it's 40 degrees outside and it feels like spring!</td></tr>
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Of course, there was a reason we’d come down to the lake
that day. A lone <b>White-winged Scoter </b>had been sighted associating with a
flock of scaup, and as we’ve gotten only distant views of this species in the
past, we were keen to get better looks. The raft of scaup proved elusive at
first, but I soon spotted them amassed along the mouth of Black Creek: hundreds
of <b>Lesser Scaup</b>, more than I’ve ever seen at once! The obligatory sweep
of the flock turned up several dozen round-headed <b>Greater Scaup</b>, a
slightly larger species that kept themselves along the edges of the flock.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zC9JhL0nw8k/UTkG1e4wlWI/AAAAAAAAEgg/slRUJqgOqiA/s1600/Greater+Scaup.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="256" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zC9JhL0nw8k/UTkG1e4wlWI/AAAAAAAAEgg/slRUJqgOqiA/s640/Greater+Scaup.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not a bad shot from almost 1000'! Plus there's a Lesser Scaup on the left side for comparison.</td></tr>
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But we had a mission, so I continued to scan the raft of ducks.
I scanned right past a small group of <b>American Wigeon</b>, and I ignored a
couple of <b>Ring-necked Ducks</b>. And then I saw it – a large, dark duck with
its head tucked under its wing. Our <b>White-winged Scoter</b>! Before long,
the raft of ducks started drifting towards the middle of the lake, and the <b>White-winged
Scoter </b>stretched itself out and started preening, giving us great looks at
its namesake white wings.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eKjz_jYegx8/UTkHWlP-jwI/AAAAAAAAEgo/CXS2b9_wxCk/s1600/White-winged+Scoter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="284" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eKjz_jYegx8/UTkHWlP-jwI/AAAAAAAAEgo/CXS2b9_wxCk/s640/White-winged+Scoter.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I've seen this species in the Triangle more than the other two scoter sp. combined! Definitely my best looks ever.</td></tr>
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While we were busy checking out the scoter, who by this
point was diving and coming up with something apparently edible, a small raft
of <b>Lesser Scaup </b>broke off from the main group and made its way towards
our viewing platform. We were able to note their peaked head feathers, a far
cry from the rounded heads of the distant <b>Greater Scaup</b>. Plus they
showed a purple sheen to their feathers, while the <b>Greaters’ </b>were green.
This is supposed to be an incredibly variable field mark, quite dependant on
the sun’s angle, but I mean – peaked, purple-headed birds and round,
green-headed ones? It doesn’t get more cut and dry than that.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YxcfQkUjsCY/UTkHoHyziUI/AAAAAAAAEgw/7P6sb_TxldI/s1600/Lesser+Scaup.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="294" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YxcfQkUjsCY/UTkHoHyziUI/AAAAAAAAEgw/7P6sb_TxldI/s640/Lesser+Scaup.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I wish more ducks would be as confiding as these Lesser Scaup.</td></tr>
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We enjoyed the antics of the scoter just once more before heading
back to the car. The <b>Osprey </b>was back soaring overhead, this time joined
by a beautiful adult <b>Bald Eagle</b>. We gazed up at the majestic birds while
bikers and runners zoomed past, completely ignorant of what they were missing.
Their loss, I guess. But we had a better than great day birding at a lake that
I don’t visit often. Good enough that I’m going to start calling it by its real
name! So long, <st1:place>Lake</st1:place> “Crap”-tree. Hello, <st1:place><st1:placetype>Lake</st1:placetype>
<st1:placename>Crabtree</st1:placename></st1:place>.<o:p></o:p></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5018220938556771588.post-72557899964283601342013-02-02T16:23:00.001-08:002013-02-02T16:23:59.484-08:00Spanish Bird of the Week #16: Eurasian Wryneck<b>By James</b><br />
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As much as I’ve enjoyed blogging about the many lifers I
found in <st1:country-region>Spain</st1:country-region>,
I’ve struggled to remember the story behind every bird. I remember the first
time I saw a <b>Rose-ringed Parakeet</b>, preening in a knot of a tall tree in
Parque Maria Alvarez. I remember the first time I found a <b>Great Tit</b>,
feeding on a low branch at Parque Alamillo. However, I don’t remember exactly
how I found them, or whether I was able to instantaneously identify them, and
writing up the story of my experiences with them has been difficult. That said,
there are a few species where I clearly remember the first time I laid eyes on
the bird, where my memory goes well beyond the picture I have in the “Birds” folder
on my computer. The <b>Eurasian Wryneck</b> is one of those birds.</div>
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At this point in my semester, Spring migration in <st1:country-region>Spain</st1:country-region>
finally began to pick up. This really started to test my ability to identify
birds by myself. During very previous migration of my career, Robert birded with
me, picking out calls while the two of us worked together to figure out the
source, sometimes a nice warbler flitting in some low trees. But in <st1:country-region>Spain</st1:country-region>,
I had no clue what I was listening to. I trained myself to ignore the constant
calling of <b>Serins</b> and <b>Eurasian Blackbirds</b>, and would instead
listen for something unique. </div>
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As I walked up and down the reeds that lined the large pond
of Parque Alamillo, my ears heard something they hadn’t before. An odd song
that I knew was a bird I’d never found, and it was close. It kept calling, and
I tracked it to a small but dense tree. I tried some “pishing” that is so
effective in the States, not knowing if it would work as well across the pond.
Suddenly, a small passerine shot out of the tree. For whatever reason, I had a
feeling that this was not the mystery caller, and I did not pursue. Another 15
seconds passed, all of the sudden a second bird flew out, and landed on an open
branch not more than twenty feet from his original perch. </div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BfnGWAlhaIE/UQ2tj-8S7uI/AAAAAAAAEeA/hak8q2w7Qys/s1600/Eurasian+Wryneck.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="416" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BfnGWAlhaIE/UQ2tj-8S7uI/AAAAAAAAEeA/hak8q2w7Qys/s640/Eurasian+Wryneck.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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The second the odd woodpecker landed I knew exactly what I
had: a <b>Eurasian Wryneck</b>. I’d thankfully taken a long look at the field
guide for Parque Alamillo, which suggested that the wryneck is a very good bird
for the park, listing it as <i>escaso </i>(scarce)
for the park, for Andalucía and for <st1:country-region>Spain</st1:country-region>
in general. eBird confirmed that this was an unusual find, with no reports for Andalucía
outside of the coastal <st1:place><st1:placetype>park</st1:placetype> of <st1:placename>Donana</st1:placename></st1:place>.
I was lucky enough to get several excellent shots of my lifer before it flew
back into dense foliage.</div>
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While I had over 120 lifers in my time in <st1:place>Europe</st1:place>,
this is undoubtedly in the top five. The second I heard the distinct call I
knew I had something unique. I still remember being in a state of shock for a
little over a second as one of the weirder birds I have ever seen landed out in
the open, seemingly asking me to photograph him. I wish I had as crisp a memory
of every lifer I’ve gotten, but not every bird is as rare, as awesome or as
cooperative as that one <b>Eurasian Wryneck</b>.<o:p></o:p></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5018220938556771588.post-76048495337529680522013-01-18T15:05:00.003-08:002013-01-18T15:10:57.027-08:00Spanish Bird of the Week #15: Lesser Kestrel<b>By James</b><br />
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I mentioned in an earlier Spanish Bird of the Week that the <b>Common Kestrel</b> became a bit of a nemesis bird for me. Luckily, I had a much better
experience finding and photographing the far less common <b>Lesser Kestrel</b>.
Not only did <b>Lesser Kestrels</b> frequent the massive Seville Cathedral (the
third largest cathedral in the world) but they also made their homes in some of
the smaller churches throughout the city. Fortunately for me, one of these
smaller cathedrals could be found just four short blocks from my apartment. I
typically just saw the small falcon, which is actually considerably larger than
our <b>American Kestrels</b>, flying over the cathedral or city square, but on
one occasion I was fortunate enough to find them perched on a low overhang.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-or3hvNIgfCk/UPnVFBCw2gI/AAAAAAAAEbM/dn2q5i1nlGM/s1600/lesserkest.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="436" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-or3hvNIgfCk/UPnVFBCw2gI/AAAAAAAAEbM/dn2q5i1nlGM/s640/lesserkest.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Not only was this by far the closest to the ground I had
ever seen these birds, but it was also my first time seeing a male. These birds
became one of my favorite parts of my city walks, and I saw them almost daily as
the church they frequented was right along my path to the Parque del Alamillo.
But I never got better looks at these dapper birds than that time I found them
perched on my local cathedral.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5018220938556771588.post-47475191849236852013-01-14T11:35:00.002-08:002013-01-18T15:13:25.543-08:00The Quasi-Lifer<br />
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As often happens in birding, sometimes you get a perfectly
serviceable and identifiable view of a bird you’ve never seen before. This bird
is a lifer, beyond a shadow of a doubt, yet your views are far too fleeting and
you’re left with a tick on your life-list that is little more than a name. For
me, this bird was the <b>Razorbill</b>, an alcid that breeds in the northern
reaches of our hemisphere. I’ve seen several, but always a mile or so out in
the distant surf, little more than a speeding football with wings. This Sunday,
James and I headed to the southeast corner of the state to try for his lifer <b>Razorbill</b>,
with little more than a sliver of hope that his lifer photo would be
identifiable.</div>
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I’d always heard that Johnnie Mercer’s pier in <st1:place><st1:placename>Wrightsville</st1:placename>
<st1:placetype>Beach</st1:placetype></st1:place> was the place to go for these
so-called “flying penguins”, but every time I visit they’re nowhere to be
found. At least, I told myself, I could occupy my time trying to pick out the Pacific
Loon<b> </b>that was said to frequent the structure. We arrived at first light,
with the sun blazing over the horizon, and the flock of loons already far out
to sea and situated in the sun’s glare. I glanced away from my scope just long
enough to see a view I’d find increasingly frequent as the day wore on.</div>
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It was a <b>Razorbill</b>, less than ten feet away! James snapped his lifer photo but with a tip and a quick flap of
its wings, the bird dove far underwater. As I scoped around the ocean, I found <b>Razorbills
</b>everywhere I looked – some close, diving just off the pier, other dotted
amongst the loons, and still more flying past in long lines of southbound
birds. While we enjoyed their antics, the <b>Razorbills </b>dove and surfaced a
little too quickly for a decent picture, and James instead had to settle for his
second lifer that day – a tight flock of <b>Black Scoter </b>that buzzed the
end of the pier.</div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jzNdocP9tKw/UPRc2BTcvzI/AAAAAAAAEU4/Eo2UkpbeaTg/s1600/blackscoter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jzNdocP9tKw/UPRc2BTcvzI/AAAAAAAAEU4/Eo2UkpbeaTg/s400/blackscoter.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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From there, we decided to visit <st1:place><st1:placename>Carolina</st1:placename>
<st1:placetype>Beach</st1:placetype> <st1:placetype>Lake</st1:placetype></st1:place>
to try and find the drake Long-tailed Duck that had been frequenting its shores.
Unfortunately, the lake was drained when we got there, its high waters giving
way to mudflats. <b>Boat-tailed Grackles </b>and <b>White Ibis </b>fed along
the mud, and our only consolation was this beautiful <b>Tricolored Heron </b>roosting
just offshore.</div>
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In a tree above the lake, I found this little <b>Yellow-rumped
Warbler </b>chipping in some of the lower hanging branches. These “butter-butts”
have to be the most common bird along coastal <st1:state>North
Carolina</st1:state> – it’s hard to go anywhere without hearing
their familiar call-note. If you can find a grove of wax myrtles, it’s not
uncommon to have a decent sized flock foraging on berries. This little guy
responded to my pishing, and decided to investigate, giving me great looks of
this surprisingly common bird.</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-M-ZIytoDbGo/UPRdcGw_sBI/AAAAAAAAEVI/OuJ5x4j_mt4/s1600/yellowrump.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="417" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-M-ZIytoDbGo/UPRdcGw_sBI/AAAAAAAAEVI/OuJ5x4j_mt4/s640/yellowrump.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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So the lake was a bust. C’est la birding as James would say.
Our next stop was the old Civil War museum at <st1:place><st1:placetype>Fort</st1:placetype>
<st1:placename>Fisher</st1:placename></st1:place>, a great place to find some
otherwise hard to see birds. As we pulled up, I noted a tree that last time I
was a here housed a pair of <b>Loggerhead Shrikes</b>. I asked James to check
the tree as we drove past, and sure enough, a <b>Loggerhead Shrike </b>watched
his territory from atop a leafy throne.</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VYFW1VBsgbE/UPRdllCjKjI/AAAAAAAAEVQ/gOG00LO1HD4/s1600/shrike.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="432" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VYFW1VBsgbE/UPRdllCjKjI/AAAAAAAAEVQ/gOG00LO1HD4/s640/shrike.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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I love shrike vocalizations – so metallic, like it shouldn’t
belong in nature. The bird flew from his perch to another just across the
street, which happened to be my go-to spot for another hard-to-see species: <b>Sedge
Wren</b>. In this random little section of <st1:place><st1:placetype>Fort</st1:placetype>
<st1:placename>Fisher</st1:placename></st1:place> where a mowed field abuts marsh
reeds, I can always get these secretive little birds to show up with a little
playback. Sure enough, this little guy decided to poke his head out and see
what was going on.</div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6AAvUJ7wpG4/UPRdtHbtxOI/AAAAAAAAEVY/i_dLTd2Gi58/s1600/sedgewren.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6AAvUJ7wpG4/UPRdtHbtxOI/AAAAAAAAEVY/i_dLTd2Gi58/s400/sedgewren.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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If you’re at the Civil War Museum, you’ve got to check out
the old gazebo across the street. A wall of gigantic rocks lines the beach
here, which for whatever reason make perfectly suitable habitat for several
sparrow species. <b>Song Sparrows </b>will flit in and out of the crevices, and
you’re hard pressed to walk past without hearing the reedy whistle of a <st1:city><st1:place><b>Savannah</b></st1:place></st1:city><b>
Sparrow.</b> This particularly bright individual sat up on the rocks giving us
fantastic looks.</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-66K-j2wSWco/UPRd01Z2rWI/AAAAAAAAEVg/NjbWbCocVKM/s1600/savannahsparrow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="417" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-66K-j2wSWco/UPRd01Z2rWI/AAAAAAAAEVg/NjbWbCocVKM/s640/savannahsparrow.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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At high tide, waves crash against the protective rocks,
and many jetty-loving species that usually stay far out to sea will come in to
feed. Immediately, we found a small flock of <b>Buffleheads</b>, and a little
scoping revealed a pair of female <b>Black Scoters </b>quite close by. As I
looked up from my scope, I barely glimpsed that which I’d become so familiar
with earlier in the morning. James leapt onto the rocks to ready himself when the
bird surfaced. Sure enough…</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oTjxmnEkKVI/UPRd74cxS3I/AAAAAAAAEVo/3ysxnJ_sQ6Y/s1600/razorbill.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oTjxmnEkKVI/UPRd74cxS3I/AAAAAAAAEVo/3ysxnJ_sQ6Y/s640/razorbill.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Another <b>Razorbill</b>! This one swam calmly just off the
rocks and didn’t dive like the others had. Finally, after all the stories I’d
heard, I was able to view this species close up and for a good amount of time.
No longer will I remember <b>Razorbills </b>as that winged dot zooming across
the horizon. Now I’ll always think of that ‘flying penguin’ bobbing up and down
in the waves just off <st1:place><st1:placetype>Fort</st1:placetype> <st1:placename>Fisher</st1:placename></st1:place>.
It may have been on my life list already, but these were definitely my
life-views. My quasi-lifer.<o:p></o:p></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5018220938556771588.post-73276203707376503462012-11-23T20:49:00.001-08:002012-11-23T20:49:17.861-08:00A Special Broccasion<br />
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Thanks to President Franklin D. Roosevelt somewhat
arbitrarily assigning Thanksgiving to the fourth Thursday in November, James
was able to come home during his break. We decided to celebrate the occasion by
trying to find James his lifer <b>Iceland Gull</b> on <st1:place><st1:placetype>Falls</st1:placetype>
<st1:placetype>Lake</st1:placetype></st1:place>. Though I’d seen it a couple
days earlier, we were unable to relocate this bird amongst the large flock of
gulls and cormorants. Instead, we made do with a trio of immature <b>Bald
Eagles </b>that graciously circled overhead.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-i8cVyLptVvo/ULBQK6EIwsI/AAAAAAAAESs/KjN7AAhrlgA/s1600/baldeagle3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="272" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-i8cVyLptVvo/ULBQK6EIwsI/AAAAAAAAESs/KjN7AAhrlgA/s400/baldeagle3.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There was also a fourth-year individual that was starting to grow in its white head and tail.<br /></td></tr>
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That’s when James noticed something white high up in the
clouds. I assumed it was a gull, but after getting it in my scope, I was
surprised to see an <b>American White Pelican </b>riding the very thermals the
eagles were enjoying. It’s another bird I’d seen recently at the location, but
because the bird hadn’t been reported in days, I thought it’d left. We watched
as a small Cessna from the nearby airfield appeared to come dangerously close
to the large bird, though I’m sure it was an optical illusion. Still not
something you see everyday around here!</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-p5G8-0YySTg/ULBQX5vJF8I/AAAAAAAAES0/WFS8RzzA75I/s1600/amwhitepelican.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="263" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-p5G8-0YySTg/ULBQX5vJF8I/AAAAAAAAES0/WFS8RzzA75I/s400/amwhitepelican.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Honestly, from this distance, the pelican looked as big as the Cessna!</td></tr>
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Because he had a couple days left in town, we decided to hit
up our old standby of Mason Farm, where we can always expect good birding. We
weren’t disappointed – as soon as I stepped out of the car, I heard the perky
chirps of a flock of <b>Pine Siskins</b>. This is supposed to be a great winter
for irruptive finches, and though we haven’t heard hide or feather of grosbeaks
and crossbills, seeing the siskins again is good enough for me.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VuIDBmi5neA/ULBQiwpm4fI/AAAAAAAAES8/c8nDARGd7q8/s1600/pinesiskin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="275" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VuIDBmi5neA/ULBQiwpm4fI/AAAAAAAAES8/c8nDARGd7q8/s400/pinesiskin.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I never get tired of hearing their rip-cord calls. Look forward to it every winter!</td></tr>
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But the finch party didn’t stop there – we spotted a couple
of <b>Purple Finches </b>along the old canal. While one of them was clearly a
female, the other had flecks and hues of raspberry coloring in its plumage,
like it had just bathed in a puddle of red wine. Either it’s a young male just
starting to attain his adult feathers, or it’s an extremely mature female
individual. The former is probably more likely, but either way we only got a
good shot of the undeniably female bird.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3VDWXuaF0RA/ULBQz4SI7WI/AAAAAAAAETE/E6OA8nBpwEA/s1600/purplefinch2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="275" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3VDWXuaF0RA/ULBQz4SI7WI/AAAAAAAAETE/E6OA8nBpwEA/s400/purplefinch2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I honestly don't get to see a whole lot of <b>Purple Finches </b>- this is by far my best view ever.</td></tr>
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Along the fields, we noticed large flocks of <b>Field
Sparrows </b>moving through the hedges. Normally a pretty skittish species,
several of the birds popped into an open view, even responding to some tapes,
something I’m not used to with this species in winter. We got such good looks
that I was able to appreciate the subtle plumage of these tiny birds, complete
with their bubblegum pink bills and their wide white eye-rings. These have got
to be the one of the most adorable birds in the state!</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CokXK34RXqg/ULBRCVj3O4I/AAAAAAAAETM/sbDPmTfEzNg/s1600/fieldsparrow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CokXK34RXqg/ULBRCVj3O4I/AAAAAAAAETM/sbDPmTfEzNg/s400/fieldsparrow.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Except for maybe <b>Winter Wrens </b>- they might take the cake in the cuteness category.</td></tr>
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Not to be outdone, a nearby <b>Northern Mockingbird </b>stopped
skulking in one of the bushes and perched out in the open. James froze because
he was quite close to the bird, easily within five feet. He tried to take a
picture, but against all odds, the mockingbird moved <i>even closer </i>to him.
The bird ended up within the camera’s minimum focal distance, so James actually
had to step back to take the shot you see below. But oh what a shot!</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ihAHV-Wbsuc/ULBRZ-SDUZI/AAAAAAAAETU/wvEObFqlmIo/s1600/mockingbird4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="282" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ihAHV-Wbsuc/ULBRZ-SDUZI/AAAAAAAAETU/wvEObFqlmIo/s400/mockingbird4.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You can see every damn feather on this bad boy, from it's slightly-worn primaries to the bristles 'round it's bill!</td></tr>
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Now when we showed up to Mason Farm, it was cold. Not like
real cold, but certainly <st1:state>North Carolina</st1:state>
cold – somewhere in the high forties or so. James and I both had our
sweatshirts on, and I even opted to wear gloves. Even the birds seemed to be
feeling it, some of them puffing up their feathers to retain heat. So herping
was the last thing on my mind, but even so, James and I decided to flip our “Magic
Snake Log” (actually a 6x6 wooden beam) to try our luck. And sure enough…</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fJktUa640Ns/ULBRqCBfe0I/AAAAAAAAETg/DJm87FSujyw/s1600/gartersnake2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="242" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fJktUa640Ns/ULBRqCBfe0I/AAAAAAAAETg/DJm87FSujyw/s400/gartersnake2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is the third species of snake we've found under "Magic Snake Log" - it's living up to its reputation!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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This small <b>Eastern Garter Snake </b>lay underneath,
curled up against the winter weather. When I picked him up, he was quite cold,
a tribute to their ectothermic habits. While I held and posed him, the
exquisite snake started to warm up, even taking a strike at me. This is the
garter snake I know, a cantankerous musking snake that doesn’t like to be held.
But when the temperatures are this low, snakes don’t really have much of a
choice. So I’ll choose to enjoy calm garter snakes and confiding birds for as
long as I can – however long that may last.<o:p></o:p></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5018220938556771588.post-90075601172170343812012-11-04T21:44:00.001-08:002012-11-04T21:44:20.101-08:00#55: Bushtit - Famosa Slough, CA<br />
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Before I headed out to <st1:state>California</st1:state>
during the summer of 2010, I had a short-list of birds I wanted to see. On that
list was the miniscule <b>Bushtit</b>, the only North American representative of
the largely Eurasian family called Aegithalidae, or the long-tailed tits. I
looked forward to seeing these birds all summer, but when I arrived in <st1:city>San
Diego</st1:city>, I was surprised to that they were one of the
first birds I saw.</div>
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<b>Bushtits </b>are wholly unique among North American
birds. For one, they fly in tightly-knit flocks numbering between 20-40 birds,
moving through low shrubs and bushes even in suburban habitat. I say “flock”,
but these birds skillfully move between dense branches, flitting in and out
more like a swarm of flies over roadkill. Additionally, the sexes look quite
similar except for one key difference: female <b>Bushtits </b>have light-colored
eyes, while those of the male are pure black, like shark’s eyes.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VFddH8EHpPM/UJdSFDEmXfI/AAAAAAAAERk/2kJtBB0eue8/s1600/Bushtit2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="275" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VFddH8EHpPM/UJdSFDEmXfI/AAAAAAAAERk/2kJtBB0eue8/s400/Bushtit2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Which would make this one a male <b>Bushtit</b>.</td></tr>
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During our time in <st1:city>San Diego</st1:city>,
James and I found that <b>Bushtits </b>are particularly responsive to taped
calls. Merely playing the tape in their general vicinity would lead to a swarm
of these tiny birds in the nearest shrub. As such, we had fantastic views of
these birds at close range, and got equally fantastic photos. I can’t wait til
I can head out that way again, and get to enjoy these birds in all their
miniscule glory.<o:p></o:p></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5018220938556771588.post-18038906169274158212012-11-02T13:22:00.000-07:002012-11-02T13:57:58.131-07:00Spanish Bird of the Week #14: Sardinian Warbler<b>By James</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
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Previously, I’ve mentioned why I enjoy bird photography so
much. The challenge, the frequent failure and the eventual rewards all make it
an incredibly enjoyable hobby. A fortuitous byproduct of photography is that is
really helps out with identification. This doesn’t happen as often anymore, but
when I was a traveling novice birder, I would often identify birds by
scrutinizing the photos on my computer. Usually I have my hunches and am able
to confirm them in the field, but from time to time I completely misidentify a
bird. </div>
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For instance, I have no real memory of seeing my lifer <b>Purple
Finch</b>. Robert and I made a stop at <st1:street>Dairyland Road</st1:street>
two winters ago to look for <b>White-crowned Sparrows</b>. I snapped a picture
of a bird that I must have written off as a <b>House Finch </b>at the time, but
when I got back to the computer I saw the picture and realized I had made a
mistake. But hey – free lifer! </div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ro80FXdUBeU/UJQo4hxciaI/AAAAAAAAEQE/s9xCnRlNvas/s1600/purplefinch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="286" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ro80FXdUBeU/UJQo4hxciaI/AAAAAAAAEQE/s9xCnRlNvas/s400/purplefinch.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Upon further review - much more different!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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An even more unusual situation is when I have a similar
realization while viewing my photos on the computer, but it comes months or
even years after I snap the picture. This has taken place only twice: once in <st1:country-region>Nicaragua</st1:country-region>
with an <b>Orange-chinned Parakeet</b> (which I originally assumed was a more
common <b>Crimson-fronted Parakeet</b>) and once in the mountain town of <st1:city>Ronda</st1:city>
in <st1:country-region>Spain</st1:country-region> where
I got my lifer Sardinian Warbler.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PvQ2pAz6a3Q/UJQpI2qGLqI/AAAAAAAAEQM/JH7usV7pESA/s1600/ocparakeet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="243" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PvQ2pAz6a3Q/UJQpI2qGLqI/AAAAAAAAEQM/JH7usV7pESA/s400/ocparakeet.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">To be fair, it would have been easier to ID if we had a good Nicaragua bird guide.</td></tr>
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Fortunately I have a much clearer memory of finding the <b>Sardinian
Warbler</b> than the <b>Purple Finch</b> or the parakeet. The town of <st1:city>Ronda</st1:city>
has one major tourist attraction – a gigantic stone bridge spanning a chasm
nearly <st1:metricconverter productid="400 feet">400 feet</st1:metricconverter>
deep. I was hiking down into said chasm and, of course, birding along the way. Spring
was right around the corner, which meant the birds were quite active, and I ran
into <b>European Goldfinches</b>, <b>Red-billed Choughs</b> and a <b>Common
Raven</b>.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qVzMUWBiN5E/UJQrUZd4LPI/AAAAAAAAEQc/z-igfDzuwhI/s1600/ronda.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="260" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qVzMUWBiN5E/UJQrUZd4LPI/AAAAAAAAEQc/z-igfDzuwhI/s400/ronda.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looks like something out of <i>Lord of the Rings</i>!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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I came around a bend and saw this small black bird sitting
on a branch. Unfortunately I only got one shot of the back of the bird, hiding
(for the most part) the bright red eye ring that would have been a dead give
away. I assumed it was one the very common <b>Blackcaps</b>, which is a pretty
embarrassing misidentification as there would be no white throat, and the back
would be grey.</div>
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<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7U92Jch0TDU/UJQrJ8pjI7I/AAAAAAAAEQU/KIm1DE4sb5Q/s1600/sardinianwarbler.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="281" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7U92Jch0TDU/UJQrJ8pjI7I/AAAAAAAAEQU/KIm1DE4sb5Q/s400/sardinianwarbler.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A lifer is a lifer!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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That remained my identification until last July, almost a
year and a half after the picture was taken, when a random bout of nostalgia
led me to flip through some of the pictures from my semester abroad. After
gaining more experience with <b>Blackcaps</b> during the course of my stay, I instantly
realized I had made a mistake in my first month of Spanish birding and that I’d
actually seen a <b>Sardinian Warbler</b>! And that is why I will continue to
take pictures first and ask questions later… even if it’s sometimes much later.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5018220938556771588.post-24112136814058933082012-10-24T14:12:00.001-07:002012-10-24T14:12:17.618-07:00Scouting for Scoters<br />
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For the past few days, a <b>Surf Scoter </b>has been
reported on and off from the Hickory Hills Boat Ramp on <st1:place><st1:placetype>Falls</st1:placetype>
<st1:placetype>Lake</st1:placetype></st1:place>. This part of the lake falling
in <st1:city>Durham</st1:city>, I needed the bird for my
county list, and headed out yesterday morning to chase it. Unfortunately, after
about an hour of scanning the lake, I packed up and left. No way was this scoter
still around, I thought. The lake seemed totally devoid of birds! Later that same day, however, the bird
was refound.</div>
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<br /></div>
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So today I tried again, this time opting to check the lake
later in the afternoon, when the light was better. But after another hour, still
no luck. A local fisherman looked intrigued by my scope setup, so I showed him
a flock of cormorants roosting a half mile away near the interstate. He was
pretty impressed. My first <b>Pine Siskin </b>of the winter flew over and I
told him how I identified the bird by its flight call. That started a
conversation about all the birds you could find on the lake, and I pointed out
crows, egrets, and herons. I was starting to explain ways you could identify
birds by flight when I saw an odd dark bird rocket into a nearby cove. It wasn’t
elongate like a cormorant, but more like a football with wings. I swung my
scope over and sure enough – <b>Surf Scoter</b>! </div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ameQTQ-6Qi4/UIhXrIwu4QI/AAAAAAAAEPE/2Lo35y3uL0U/s1600/susc2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="255" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ameQTQ-6Qi4/UIhXrIwu4QI/AAAAAAAAEPE/2Lo35y3uL0U/s400/susc2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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I showed the fisherman, and although he was still impressed
by the optical range of my scope, he was less impressed by the dingy first-year
bird in front of him. A birder’s bird I guess. I raced down the clay hillside
and made my way towards the cove, but got stopped a hundred feet away when the
route became impassable. Still, I was close enough to snap a couple pics of the
bird foraging along lake’s edge. It’s not as pretty as the clown-faced males I
can find along the coast, but it’s good enough for <st1:city><st1:place><b>Durham</b></st1:place></st1:city><b>
county bird #214!</b></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GOyZk8x9QjM/UIhXxxI_MOI/AAAAAAAAEPM/5nzYjrlpLmc/s1600/susc1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="263" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GOyZk8x9QjM/UIhXxxI_MOI/AAAAAAAAEPM/5nzYjrlpLmc/s400/susc1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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On my way back I stopped by the artificial wetland were I’d
gotten my 213<sup>th</sup> county bird earlier this week. Sure enough the <b>American
Bittern </b>was sitting just in front of the bird blind, neck outstretched as a
form of camouflage. Clearly the bittern thought it was doing a good job,
because it barely flinched as I sat there photographing it!</div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GGCUjjSpK94/UIhYG32ENAI/AAAAAAAAEPU/Pf746zwmz5Q/s1600/americanbittern2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GGCUjjSpK94/UIhYG32ENAI/AAAAAAAAEPU/Pf746zwmz5Q/s400/americanbittern2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Eventually the bittern got bored, or hungry, or some
combination of the two, and started making its way around the wetland, doing
this odd kind of shuffle with its feet, presumably to scare up a meal. I watched
it spear at crayfish and frogs, as a school of tiny minnows tried to flee from
its gigantic feet. I’ve never seen a bittern this active, it’s a heck of an
experience. But don’t take my word for it: check out the video!</div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/nSDbFn-n-to?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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So it’s been a good week. Two awesome county birds, some
early winter visitors, and absolutely beautiful weather. If this is how the
vagrant season is shaping up and it’s only October, it’s gonna be one hell of a
winter! <o:p></o:p></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5018220938556771588.post-73570392576189930122012-10-21T21:44:00.002-07:002012-10-21T21:44:38.612-07:00Goes Down Easy Like Vermouth and Bitterns<br />
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When you’ve found over 200 birds in your county, it becomes
difficult to add ticks to your county list. One of the birds I’ve been dreading
is the <b>American Bittern</b> because it usually involves waking up before
dawn in early Spring and heading out to rural Durham county, just hoping you’ll
flush one from the local waterfowl impoundments. So when I heard that same
bittern could be found at a spot that’s been one of my birding haunts since I
first took up the activity, I jumped at the opportunity.</div>
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<br /></div>
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I got off work late and raced over to the running trails
that lay alongside the Washington-Duke golf course. The gravel parking lots
were full, so I ended up starting my journey from the neighborhood that I grew
up in – a little far away for my comfort, given how quickly the sun was
descending in the sky. I was afraid that it would be too dark to photograph the
bird were it still present, so I decided to do something I’ve not done in a
long time – I ran. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Out of breath, I paused on the bridge that stretched across
the artificial wetland. I put my binoculars up to my face, and I saw it. The <b>American
Bittern </b>was a couple hundred feet away, motionless in front of a wooden
walkway. I had my county bird, but I wanted more. So I ran over to the walkway,
tiptoeing once I got there so I wouldn’t frighten the bird. I looked out of the
viewing platform and… I couldn’t find it.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Frantically I searched. I’d just seen it, I know I had.
There’s the little peninsula of pond weed I saw from the bridge, a couple of
willows, the creek. The bittern was nowhere to be seen. I casually glanced to
my right, and immediately realized my mistake. I’d been looking about twenty
feet too far away. The <b>American Bittern </b>stood just six feet off the
viewing platform, looking right at me. I pulled out my camera, but couldn’t see
through the viewfinder because my glasses were fogged up from all the running.
With a little effort, I managed the one decent shot you see below.</div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-emxUrAgg1-o/UITM45tCs0I/AAAAAAAAEOM/GoL3cn8iIHU/s1600/americanbittern.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="257" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-emxUrAgg1-o/UITM45tCs0I/AAAAAAAAEOM/GoL3cn8iIHU/s400/americanbittern.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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The bittern was actually too close for my camera to focus. I
had to zoom out a ways just to fit it in the frame, and that still equated to
just a head-shot of the bird. The bird seemed to acknowledge my presence, and
started walking out into the marsh. Frogs and fish jumped out from in front of
its feet, but the bittern had fed enough that day and ignored the potential
meal. Then it stopped and stared at me, almost motionless.</div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/xSDKMASj9KY?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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There we were, one awesome county bird and one out-of-breath
birder. For as much as I’d been dreading picking up an <b>American Bittern </b>for
<st1:city>Durham</st1:city> county, I was glad to have
such an easy tick in front of me. My glasses finally stopped fogging up, and I
was able to glimpse the bird through my binoculars, enjoying the subtle shades
of its feathering, the same colors that made it invisible to me not five
minutes before. Though it’s not likely, I hope the bird stays around all
winter. Eventually I’ll get a chance to head out in the morning when the light
is better and fully photograph this wonderful creature. But until then, I’m
left with a feeling of relief and <b>county bird #213</b>. And man it feels
good!<o:p></o:p></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5018220938556771588.post-88849822383133154982012-10-14T22:53:00.001-07:002012-10-14T22:53:46.941-07:00Brace Yourselves...<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Winter is coming. I first noticed when I got out of my car in the
Mason Farm parking lot. The air was cool and crisp, with a clear blue sky
overhead. A flock of <b>Cedar Waxwings </b>flew in the trees above the creek,
and my first <b>White-throated Sparrows </b>of the season chipped away in the
brambles. The whole place was surprisingly birdy, perhaps because everything
was trying to fatten up before it got really cold.</div>
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<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kgJPGbnrDgI/UHuipj98o8I/AAAAAAAAEM8/16w4p3GzQDY/s1600/mockingbird3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="262" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kgJPGbnrDgI/UHuipj98o8I/AAAAAAAAEM8/16w4p3GzQDY/s400/mockingbird3.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I never give up the opportunity to watch a confiding bird, even one so common as a Mockingbird.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br /></div>
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While the winter birds began trickling in, the migrants were
trickling out. At first we couldn’t find any real migrants, and instead
contented ourselves with a lagging flock of <b>Palm Warblers </b>that flitted through
a field of Queen Anne’s lace, picking at chaff and working its way along the
tree line.</div>
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<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-djhDt37F3Z0/UHui2-50RWI/AAAAAAAAENE/wuwpm_m4XPA/s1600/palmwarbler.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="270" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-djhDt37F3Z0/UHui2-50RWI/AAAAAAAAENE/wuwpm_m4XPA/s400/palmwarbler.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If only they'd let themselves be photographed, but as with all warblers, easier said than done.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br /></div>
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Most surprising were the stragglers, those summer birds that
haven’t yet made their way south. Among the vocal <b>Yellow-rumped Warblers</b>,
we found breeding birds like <b>Red-eyed Vireo</b>, <b>Indigo Bunting</b>, and <b>Yellow-billed
Cuckoo</b>. It’s hard to imagine seeing birds like this on a day when the
temperature dips in the 50s – I’m used to seeing them in weather more than 30
degrees warmer! After picking through tons of these birds, we finally began to
see our promised migrants, highlighted by a pair of <b>Black-throated Blue
Warblers </b>that foraged right in front of us.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BF-PFNIcji8/UHujxNthxiI/AAAAAAAAENM/5OUoiQp9kWY/s1600/btbw.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BF-PFNIcji8/UHujxNthxiI/AAAAAAAAENM/5OUoiQp9kWY/s400/btbw.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No picture can do this fantastic bird justice. What a treat!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br /></div>
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As we continued along the trail, I heard the loud, sharp notes
that signaled a pair of <b>Hairy Woodpeckers </b>up ahead. As we reached the
forested area, I saw a bird fly to the right, and immediately had it in my
binocs. One of the woodpeckers was making its way up the tree. I’ve always
liked <b>Hairy Woodpeckers </b>because, despite looking extremely similar to <b>Downy
Woodpeckers </b>in field guides, they’re immediately distinguishable in the
field thanks to their size. James snapped a couple pics in the general area,
and pointed out to me an odd bird, which perhaps not coincidentally then flew
off. That was the bird I’d seen fly in, and the woodpecker was merely in the
background. Then James showed me the pic.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KIHQ4Eeuq7A/UHukQrApcTI/AAAAAAAAENU/G2uDGeZJOKY/s1600/gtthr.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="277" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KIHQ4Eeuq7A/UHukQrApcTI/AAAAAAAAENU/G2uDGeZJOKY/s400/gtthr.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Somehow, an almost unmistakable bird.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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It was a <b>Gray-cheeked Thrush</b>, a species I haven’t
seen in years. I’m still kicking myself for not being more focused and getting
a better look at the bird. Even so, I had to be happy for James. It’s a lifer
for him, which is something that’s happening less and less these days. I think he's the only birder in history to get his lifer <b>Gray-cheeked </b>before his lifer <b>Swainson's</b>!</div>
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We exited the forest, and started walking past some of the
large fields. Just when I thought I’d go all winter without finding one, I
heard a distinctive nasally call I’ve been training myself to recognize. I’ve
heard tell it’s a good year for these guys, and after getting them on my last
two outings, I’m inclined to agree. A little playback and a small bird flew
like a feathered dart into the tree next to me. It’s a species I see all too
infrequently, and one I’m hoping to get to know better this winter: a <b>Red-breasted
Nuthatch</b>.</div>
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<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PHvbF0qyFKU/UHukdzybVtI/AAAAAAAAENc/eYshGkiQnT8/s1600/rbnu.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="270" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PHvbF0qyFKU/UHukdzybVtI/AAAAAAAAENc/eYshGkiQnT8/s400/rbnu.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I've seen five nuthatch species in my life, and this is by far my favorite!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Ever since I started birding, the <st1:state>North
Carolina</st1:state> winters have seen poor numbers of <b>Red-breasted
Nuthatch</b>. But apparently the pine crop failed up north this year, which
means the birds are starting to enter the state in droves – and it’s not even
really that cold yet. Hopefully, the nuthatches are just a harbinger for large
flocks of irruptive finches, which could include <b>Evening Grosbeaks </b>and <b>Red
Crossbills </b>if we’re lucky. It’s been almost twenty years since the
grosbeaks came to the state in any numbers, but if it’s going to happen again,
it might as well be now. This winter is going to be cold as Hell on Hoth, and
the birds already know it. Brace yourselves.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5018220938556771588.post-57727210567806535672012-10-06T19:30:00.001-07:002012-10-06T19:32:10.174-07:00Spanish Bird of the Week #13: White Wagtail<br />
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<b>By James</b><br />
<br />
The <b>White Wagtail</b> is undoubtedly one of the most
common birds in Andalucia. I saw them just about everywhere. However, despite quickly becoming a bird you overlook as a result of its abundance, this
bird has a special place with me. The <b>White Wagtail</b> was actually the
first of well over 100 life birds that I got in <st1:country -region="-region">Spain</st1:country>.</div>
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<br /></div>
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As a result of some delays and flight changes, I ended up
getting stuck in the <st1:place><st1:placename>Barcelona</st1:placename> <st1:placetype>Airport</st1:placetype></st1:place>
for a six hour layover. The airport has HD-TVs everywhere and feels more like a
mall than an airport. It’s pretty nice. For the first hour. Around hour three I
completely zoned out and started staring out the window a la John Dorian.
Suddenly my eyes caught a small black and white bird skittering its way across
the tarmac. Now, I didn’t do too much bird research prior to heading across the
pond, but I had done enough to know what this bird was. I was shot the picture
through a grimy window, and the bird was probably <st1:metricconverter productid="100 feet">100 feet</st1:metricconverter> off, but a lifer is a
lifer! Thankfully that was not my final experience with these guys. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A few weeks later I finally started getting tired of the
urban birding haunts of Sevilla, and found, in the top right corner of my map
of the city, what appeared to be a large green area. A little Google research
and I had a new birding destination: Parque Alamillo. I’ve mentioned this park
several times before, but all the other species I posted about were birds I got en
route. Before I got there, I was expecting another park filled with people and
impressive, but not exactly bird-friendly gardens. What I found was a
surprisingly American and delightfully quiet park. It was simply a green-space,
and was subsequently surprisingly birdy. My Google search turned up a rather
intensive 8-year ornithological study of the park, and that they’d made <b><a href="http://www.parquedelalamillo.org/Guia_Aves_Alamillo.pdf">a park species
list</a></b> complete with seasonality, relative abundance, and even the best
places to look! </div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VdNF7DWFnHE/UHDozToYOdI/AAAAAAAAEMM/9cA-IDJpDYg/s1600/whitewagtail2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="260" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VdNF7DWFnHE/UHDozToYOdI/AAAAAAAAEMM/9cA-IDJpDYg/s400/whitewagtail2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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This park, which I completely missed for the first few weeks,
turned out to be a decent birding haunt, and my new Sevilla hotspot. In total,
Parque Alamillo yielded me 25 lifers and over 50 species over my four month
stay, including plenty of looks at <b>White Wagtails</b>. Among them was this
absolutely incredible look, as one of these handsome birds wanted to forage,
and occasionally strike a pose, right in front me!</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5018220938556771588.post-62871703491788834972012-09-23T22:50:00.003-07:002012-09-23T22:50:43.744-07:00How Not to Identify a Bird<br />
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We’re going to start this post the same way I started out my
last one. I have the afternoon off from work, I drive up to the Few’s Ford parking
lot, and I exit my car. From the woods, I can hear an odd clucking, a cuckoo. I
search for it, and before long it sits up on a bare branch allowing me to get
photos. A dark, thin bill. A dull eyering. Small size. Everything points to one
ID in my mind: <b>Black-billed Cuckoo</b>. But, as the discussion of the bird
continued, it became clear this was actually a young <b>Yellow-billed Cuckoo. </b>And
everything I know is wrong.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My mistake? Relying on field marks. On some level in one’s
birding career, they stop using field marks to identify a bird. Instead, you
rely on the overall impression of a bird, and by gestalt you immediately know
its ID. Every once in a while, a bird throws you for a loop, and you begin to
register field marks to try and find an answer to its identity. Sometimes you
have to take a step back though, and acknowledge that even with an unknown
bird, its general impression can give important clues. While many of the field
marks appear to point towards <b>Black-billed Cuckoo</b>, the overall
impression of the bird is wrong. The bill is actually a little too small, and its
vocalizations are too guttural. Plus the tail is too small.</div>
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<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rPaPxZkh30U/UF_zZ5A25ZI/AAAAAAAAELE/L0pt5v5akx4/s1600/Black-billed+Cuckoo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="271" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rPaPxZkh30U/UF_zZ5A25ZI/AAAAAAAAELE/L0pt5v5akx4/s400/Black-billed+Cuckoo.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A young <b>Yellow-billed Cuckoo</b>. Can't you tell?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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First off, why does the tail look small? It’s missing tail
feathers, which is important because that’s a sign of molting, and a heavy molt
like this would make it harder for a migrant to continue on its southerly
journey. It’s hard to see in most of the photos, but you can just make out a
pale area continuing inward from the beak towards the eyes. They aren’t
feathers – no, this bird is a fledgling, and the pale area is the gape it
retains from its time in the nest. It’s late in the year, and most field guides
indicate this plumage doesn’t continue past August, but cuckoos are apparently
notoriously late breeders. Plus, I blame global warming.</div>
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<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hHb7FwoCGiQ/UF_zl-gVMpI/AAAAAAAAELM/OjqIkZqHxts/s1600/bbcu2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="270" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hHb7FwoCGiQ/UF_zl-gVMpI/AAAAAAAAELM/OjqIkZqHxts/s400/bbcu2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You always hear about confusing fall warblers, but never confusing fall cuckoos.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br /></div>
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So why is the bill so thin and black? Turns out, some young <b>Yellow-billed
Cuckoos </b>actually have dark bills in the nest, and even fewer retain that
past fledging. In addition, young birds don’t have very large bills to begin
with, but the real kicker lies in the bird’s feathers. They’re shaggy and
fluffy, not sleek like those of most cuckoos. This bird is in juvenal plumage,
that awkward stage when a bird is just out of the nest and learning to fly. The
fluffy feathers obscure part of the beak, making it look even smaller than it
should.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ayp6bjw5xvg/UF_0QtEnYUI/AAAAAAAAELc/hpwj3m5bgkg/s1600/ybcu.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ayp6bjw5xvg/UF_0QtEnYUI/AAAAAAAAELc/hpwj3m5bgkg/s400/ybcu.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">How a <b>Yellow-billed Cuckoo </b>is supposed to look - sleek, slender, and with a big honkin' yellow bill!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /><span id="goog_821990568"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And what about those weird sounds the bird was making, that
call and response with another cuckoo in the woods? It seems this was the call
of a juvenile bird, and while it maintained the tempo of a <b>Black-billed
Cuckoo</b>, it’s growling, guttural nature is unmistakably <b>Yellow-billed</b>.
It’s something I should have noticed in the field, but the call was so strange
I pretty much dispelled the idea of <b>Yellow-billed Cuckoo </b>from my mind.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So there you have it. A mistaken ID, but one resulting from
a perfect storm of odd and poorly-known circumstances. This could have been
identified correctly in the field, but it takes an expertise much greater than
mine. You can’t look at this bird and use its field marks to ascertain its
identity. You have to know so much more – about its breeding habits, about its
growth cycle, about its social behavior. You have to understand the bird’s whole biology
to figure out its identity, and until you do, you’re just a guy looking at
pictures in a field guide. The whole thing is an experience always remember,
and for the rest of my life, I’ll never again mis-identify a fledgling <b>Yellow-billed
Cuckoo </b>with a black bill. You could say I… <i>won’t get fooled again</i>.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><b>YEEEEAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!</b><o:p></o:p></i></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5018220938556771588.post-72580990325591262942012-09-21T14:13:00.004-07:002012-09-23T22:51:56.344-07:00When It Rains, It Pours<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><i>::ROBERT'S EDIT:: Check out the post above for a discussion about the correct ID for this bird!</i></b><br />
<br />
Migration is really heating up around here, but I can’t
fully enjoy it. I’ve been stuck in the work routine recently, which means my
birding (and by extension, blogging) time is limited - something I'm trying to work on getting more of! Today, for example, I had a free
afternoon, so I decided to visit Few’s Ford on the Eno to see if I could drum
up any of the Empids that’ve been reported recently. As soon as I stepped out
of my car, I heard an odd clucking reminiscent of a farm chicken, or a turkey
with something stuck in its throat. So I pressed forward into the woods to
investigate.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I could hear the clucking up ahead, deftly dodging spider
webs and poison ivy. Twenty feet in, however, the sound changed direction – it was
coming from my right, no, wait, behind me! So I raced back to the parking lot,
and the clucking again retreated into the woods. By this time I had my
suspicions about this bird, but I had to see it to confirm. Finally, the sound
stopped moving, and I could hear it just above my head, at the top of a tree. I
ran to the parking lot and there it was.</div>
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<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KbbMZdvGkaw/UFzWRM_B14I/AAAAAAAAEJ0/du8brNiYHFc/s1600/Black-billed+Cuckoo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="271" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KbbMZdvGkaw/UFzWRM_B14I/AAAAAAAAEJ0/du8brNiYHFc/s400/Black-billed+Cuckoo.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Honestly, not a bird I thought I'd ever photograph. And certainly not in the Triangle!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A <b>Black-billed Cuckoo</b>! Actually there were two of
them, doing a little call and response routine from the woods. But this is the
only one that showed for pics. It’s a great bird anywhere in the state, but in
the Triangle it’s pretty phenomenal. How phenomenal? Well, I've actually seen them once before, on the 17 Acre Woods greenway in Durham. But most of my birding friends have never seen one! Immediately, I texted all the birders I
could think of, but half of them were going out of town and one of them already
“had” the bird on his state list by way of Nocturnal Flight Calls (you know who
you are). But Nate Swick of <a href="http://thedrinkingbirdblog.com/"><b>The Drinking Bird</b></a> needed it as a lifer, and raced
over to check them out.</div>
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<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1RwRJipd6tQ/UFzXK4GvhcI/AAAAAAAAEJ8/IR-0nP-JzS4/s1600/bbcu2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="270" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1RwRJipd6tQ/UFzXK4GvhcI/AAAAAAAAEJ8/IR-0nP-JzS4/s400/bbcu2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not a great pic, but all the field marks are there - non-contrasting tail pattern, green-gray eyering, and... <br />
what was that last one... oh yeah, the black bill!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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The bird flew from its perch well before Nate showed up, but
the birds were still vocalizing. Eventually we found it again, foraging between
the leaves of a sweet gum (or was it a sycamore? Note to self: learn trees
better). We noted how different it was from the more common <b>Yellow-billed
Cuckoos</b>: smaller, leaner, with a tiny bill that stuck out like a thorn.
Even the way it foraged was different, deftly flitting about, almost like a
large warbler.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<object class="BLOGGER-youtube-video" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0" data-thumbnail-src="http://i.ytimg.com/vi/RjPz5kqn_IQ/0.jpg" height="266" width="320"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/RjPz5kqn_IQ?version=3&f=user_uploads&c=google-webdrive-0&app=youtube_gdata" /><param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF" /><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true" /><embed width="320" height="266" src="http://www.youtube.com/v/RjPz5kqn_IQ?version=3&f=user_uploads&c=google-webdrive-0&app=youtube_gdata" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true"></embed></object></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In exchange for getting him a lifer, Nate agreed to show me
where he’d seen a couple Empid flycatchers a couple days earlier. If the
flycatchers were there, they weren’t vocalizing at this time of day, so I
decided to hike back to my car along the river. I didn’t find all that many
birds, but I did flush a pair of drake <b>Wood Ducks </b>and this nice <b>Green
Heron</b>.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-C7-y1vcV0yk/UFzXaFbZ51I/AAAAAAAAEKE/T6aakezkpNc/s1600/grhe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="263" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-C7-y1vcV0yk/UFzXaFbZ51I/AAAAAAAAEKE/T6aakezkpNc/s400/grhe.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">They may be common, but it's always awesome to sit there and watch a <b>Green Heron </b>do his thing.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I braved overgrown trails and patches of mud, and soon
lamented the effort I was giving when there weren’t birds to be found. Just as
I was about to give up, I heard chickadees up ahead, and soon found a large
flock flying back and forth across the river. Flitting between the common birds
were the warblers that make a birder’s day worth it – <st1:state><st1:place><b>Tennessees</b></st1:place></st1:state>,
<b>Redstarts</b>, and <b>Black-throated Green Warblers </b>actively foraged,
often obscured by thick foliage. I enjoyed a nice <b>Black-and-White Warbler </b>that
made his way up a trunk not ten feet away. But in my enjoyment I forgot to take
pictures, so you’ll have to make do with what is probably the biggest <b>River
Cooter </b>I’ve ever seen.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BEvKlDYBBsI/UFzXsWIVo6I/AAAAAAAAEKM/IVMmUUkPFuM/s1600/cooter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="256" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BEvKlDYBBsI/UFzXsWIVo6I/AAAAAAAAEKM/IVMmUUkPFuM/s400/cooter.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">To put it into perspective, the turtle in back was a good foot or so long.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br /></div>
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Down the trail, I heard an odd <i>spink! </i>That’s how I’d
describe it – loud, sharp and metallic. Like a <b>Northern Waterthrush </b>chip-note
on steroids. Then I realized I’d heard the sound once before, when I was in
Ornithology class. We were on a bird walk around <st1:place><st1:placename>Beaver</st1:placename>
<st1:placetype>Lake</st1:placetype></st1:place> when our professor pointed out
a black bird vocalizing from the top of a tree. It flew off, and I could see
bright crimson on its chest and armpits. The memory finished replaying in my
head and I ran after the sound, because this <b>Rose-breasted Grosbeak </b>would
be a photo-lifer for me.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-sbI0LORlhGY/UFzX5yjfnzI/AAAAAAAAEKU/nCVRTtdqzJ4/s1600/rbgr.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-sbI0LORlhGY/UFzX5yjfnzI/AAAAAAAAEKU/nCVRTtdqzJ4/s400/rbgr.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'll take what I can get, yeah I'll take what I can get... but you ain't seen nothing yet!<br />
... actually that was my last picture of the day. Sorry!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I found the bird almost instantly, but much to my chagrin it
was a female, not the brightly-colored male I was looking for. Still, a
photo-lifer is a photo-lifer, and I tried to get my camera to navigate the
thick foliage and focus on the grosbeak. I gave up pretty easily and just took a shot of the general area around where the bird was foraging. Luckily enough, one of the shots picked up the bird you see above!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I finished the loop and returned to my car. Even this late
in the afternoon, I could still hear the <b>Black-billed Cuckoos </b>calling,
albeit deeper in the woods than before. I briefly considered going in after
them, but I was sweaty, muddy, and seriously wanted a shower. But it was
totally worth it – I had my best day of migration all fall, and I didn’t even
have to wake up early. The best kind of birding!</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5018220938556771588.post-30527655340388162102012-09-08T00:06:00.005-07:002012-09-08T00:27:09.261-07:00For Those About to Twitch - WE SALUTE YOU!<div class="MsoNormal">You loyal readers may have noticed I’ve been absent lately. There’s no excuse, really, but if I had to create one – work, life, and writer’s block got in the way of my blogging. That isn’t to say that I haven’t done anything lately. Over the past couple weeks, rare birds have been reported across the Triangle, and I’ve gone to chase them. This is the tale of three twitches – one that worked, one that didn’t, and one that was so ridiculous I honestly didn’t have a chance in hell.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We’ll start with the ridiculous. Last Sunday, a <b>Magnificent Frigatebird </b>was reported flying over the local mall. But the local mall is several hundred miles inland, you say? I agree, but the prevailing theory is that the bird was blown in by Hurricane Isaac. The frigatebird made its way down <st1:place><st1:placename>Jordan</st1:placename> <st1:placename>Lake</st1:placename></st1:place>, and the whole Triangle birding community took up the chase. One other birder saw it on the way down – Ali Iyoob, lucky birder extraordinaire, found it along the lake just after it was reported. The rest of us twitchers missed it by a good hour. No other good birds were to be found, so a couple of us headed towards the local water treatment plant, only to find a single <b>Least Sandpiper </b>to console us for our disappointment.</div><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QWoai3BWBHg/UErrPCXMHuI/AAAAAAAAEIU/PhQGZQ5f_GE/s1600/leastsandpiper.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="277" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QWoai3BWBHg/UErrPCXMHuI/AAAAAAAAEIU/PhQGZQ5f_GE/s400/leastsandpiper.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">To be fair, it's a very fresh-plumaged juvenile. I've never seen a <b>Least Sandpiper </b>so rufous!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The next day, being Labor Day, many birders were out and about. And sure enough, a second rare bird was found – this time a <b>Lark Sparrow</b>, out at <st1:place><st1:placetype>Lake</st1:placetype> <st1:placename>Crabtree</st1:placename></st1:place>. Through texts and emails, the word spread, and soon enough I found myself at the parking lot of the lake, looking through the scope at a large sparrow chowing down on a huge caterpillar.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-p3NLQgtQSe8/UErsASrhsfI/AAAAAAAAEIs/5bCE4RzJwc4/s1600/larksparrow4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="272" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-p3NLQgtQSe8/UErsASrhsfI/AAAAAAAAEIs/5bCE4RzJwc4/s400/larksparrow4.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Apparently, the edge of a recreational volleyball court is the perfect habitat for hungry <b>Lark Sparrows.</b></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The bird was a lifer for me, and a welcome one – I’d missed seeing one earlier this year by just a couple minutes. But somehow the victory seemed bittersweet. The bird before me was drab, dingy, first-year – not the crisp white bird I’d always dreamed of seeing. Still, as the bird foraged for grass seeds on the edge of an unused volleyball court, I couldn’t help but enjoy it. Maybe it wasn’t the lifer I felt I deserved – but it was the lifer I needed.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vwoJ6XE0To4/UErr6MUjwaI/AAAAAAAAEIk/cBCNym5pmb4/s1600/larksparrow2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="282" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vwoJ6XE0To4/UErr6MUjwaI/AAAAAAAAEIk/cBCNym5pmb4/s400/larksparrow2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's a bird I've wanted to see for a long time... but this plumage? It's 'eh'.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">For the most part, the birders stayed far away, viewing the small bird through high-powered spotting scopes. I find this to be a very European style of birding – enjoying the bird from a distance. To me, birding is a personal experience, best had when you’re feet away from a bird and you can view its habits without the need of binoculars. I’ve only experienced this with a couple of species, and I wanted <b>Lark Sparrow </b>to be one of them, so I moved closer.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5gKnQYDiRUE/UErtOSR6M0I/AAAAAAAAEI0/p8lbkSYYNfs/s1600/larksparrow3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="280" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5gKnQYDiRUE/UErtOSR6M0I/AAAAAAAAEI0/p8lbkSYYNfs/s400/larksparrow3.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Out in the Great Plains, <b>Lark Sparrows </b>frequent the volleyball courts that abound in the prairie.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I soon found out why this bird was called a <b>Lark Sparrow</b>. As I got closer, the bird flew a short distance down the shoreline. Immediately, it’s demarcated characteristics disappeared, and all I saw was the drab, streaked back of an apparently boring bird. While this description fits the larks of <st1:place>Europe</st1:place> and <st1:place>Africa</st1:place> very well, it’s not the most telling feature of the <b>Lark Sparrow</b>. Instead, I noticed its flight – bounding, flying high and then shooting down to a much lower level. A sparrow, though one immediately reminiscent of a lark in its breeding display. A <b>Lark Sparrow</b>.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Fa8f8qd7ckc/UErrxqdVs7I/AAAAAAAAEIc/y9RDCdu3FuA/s1600/larksparrow1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="270" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Fa8f8qd7ckc/UErrxqdVs7I/AAAAAAAAEIc/y9RDCdu3FuA/s400/larksparrow1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looks pretty much like every lark I've ever seen... not that I've seen that many larks.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Giving up on the perfect picture, I opened the door of my car, and took one last look at my lifer – hundreds of feet away, still, foraging on the sides of a recreational volleyball court. I’ve no idea why the bird chose this morning to hang out at one of the local birding sites, but it wasn’t the only one. A <b>Willow Flycatcher </b>was reported in the area just a couple days later, and as our current picture of the species is quite frankly terrible, I decided to chase it. Unfortunately, the reportedly vocal individual was gone – I blame the service guy who just finished mowing the trail. Certainly the noise of his John Deere ride-on mower proved too much for the bird to handle, and it vacated its premises. This obliging <b>Eastern Cottontail </b>was a partial consolation prize. But even a rabbit can’t take away this sting of missing a bird.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OC-Z-4j_QEQ/UErt8KJz2zI/AAAAAAAAEI8/hlr1l9kws0o/s1600/easterncottontail.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="282" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OC-Z-4j_QEQ/UErt8KJz2zI/AAAAAAAAEI8/hlr1l9kws0o/s400/easterncottontail.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If you look closely, you can see a fat mosquito turgid with this rabbit's blood. I'll bet I fed many mosquitoes that day.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">But, as James says, c’est la birding. Sometimes you get want you want, sometimes you get what you need, and other times you get nothing at all and you’re super disappointed for the next couple weeks. Each time you decide to twitch a rare bird, you take on a gamble, one you’re likely to lose. Every once in a while it works out for you, but for the most part I find twitching a hostile and soul-crushing activity. That’s why I give a shout out to all you birders who seek rare birds on a whim, traveling for miles to reach your potential quarry. I know it’s hard, I’ve been there. I wish somebody were rooting for me too. So, in the slightly modified immortal words of AC/DC, I pledge: <b>For those about to twitch – WE SALUTE YOU!<o:p></o:p></b></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5018220938556771588.post-50940921995912671302012-08-19T17:51:00.008-07:002012-08-19T18:04:39.012-07:00Spanish Bird of the Week #12: Grey Wagtail<div class="MsoNormal"><b>By James</b><br />
<br />
Robert and I had been chasing down the Bachman’s Sparrow all afternoon. Robert heard the elusive bird deep in the shrubby forests of the Carolina Sandhills, and I decided to go in after it. I got a few distant looks as the bird flitted about on downed pine trees, but my efforts had yielded me nothing but dark, blurry, grainy shots. I was about ready to admit defeat. The <b>Red-cockaded Woodpeckers</b> we looked for earlier were nowhere to be found, and the <b>Bachman’s Sparrow</b> was proving to be quite camera shy. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Despondent, I worked my way back to the sandy road, when Robert announced that the bird seemed to be moving closer. Seconds later the subtle sparrow flew in to within a matter of feet from me, though he was backlit and obscured by pine needles. I shifted over a few feet, slowly of course to make sure not to spook the small bird. All of the sudden I had an open shot, and I got what is undoubtedly one of my favorite of the 416 bird pictures I’ve taken over my birding career. The sun lit up the pine needles, framing the <b>Bachman’s Sparrow</b> that decided this small branch was the perfect spot to burst into song. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-h1Dp8zM3ZI4/UDGHQ-DuMLI/AAAAAAAAEG8/Tphr3evqJRE/s1600/bachspblog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="251" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-h1Dp8zM3ZI4/UDGHQ-DuMLI/AAAAAAAAEG8/Tphr3evqJRE/s400/bachspblog.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A shot like this needs no caption. Except for that one... damn.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">After reviewing my pictures that day, and seeing that I got the shot, elation and relief washed over me. Moments like these are why I still love bird photography. It’s undoubtedly a frustrating and challenging hobby. To get a really great picture, you need so many things to go your way, and unfortunately most of these things are out of your control. First off, you need perfect weather. Some people like an overcast day for photography, but I prefer a cloudless sky. Only perfect sunlight really makes a bird’s color truly pop. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Mo649vxRAb8/T2AwxCBFzhI/AAAAAAAADgk/g-qK06xBpV8/s1600/rufousblog2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="235" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Mo649vxRAb8/T2AwxCBFzhI/AAAAAAAADgk/g-qK06xBpV8/s400/rufousblog2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What if he had been in the shade? Simply not as good.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Secondly, you need the bird to cooperate. I have seen <b>Blue Jays</b> countless times, but it’s a bird that simply refuses to show itself well when my camera is involved. In addition, you need your camera to cooperate. I realize that it is probably a combination of the steadiness of my hands and the amount of dust on the lens, but I swear that sometimes my camera has good days and sometimes it has bad days. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xVJpjkUE53w/UDGIyoTj8_I/AAAAAAAAEHM/IWU3nPOMY80/s1600/bluejay.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="261" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xVJpjkUE53w/UDGIyoTj8_I/AAAAAAAAEHM/IWU3nPOMY80/s400/bluejay.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of these days we'll find a <b>Blue Jay </b>that's not a total coward...</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Lastly, you, the photographer, need to be on your game. If you plan on getting a good picture of a <b>Canada Warbler</b> you need to be able to move and aim your camera just as quickly as those small Parulids can flit about. Some days everything comes together, and you get a picture like the one Robert and I got last summer when an <b>Indigo Bunting </b>sat up singing just a couple feet away from us. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WHtLv31Ffxg/UDGJZFDw0vI/AAAAAAAAEHU/T4VHLHmgDlc/s1600/Indigo+Bunting.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="261" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WHtLv31Ffxg/UDGJZFDw0vI/AAAAAAAAEHU/T4VHLHmgDlc/s400/Indigo+Bunting.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pretty much the best look I've gotten of any bird. Ever.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Unfortunately, the <b>Grey Wagtail</b> does not have such a glorious conclusion. A quick run through my checklist for perfect bird photography reveals the culprit. Weather? Sunny, not a cloud in the sky. Cooperative bird? Yep. As I walked down the river to my favorite birding haunt, I saw a bird wandering around next to the cement bank of the <st1:place><st1:placename>Guadalquivir</st1:placename> <st1:placetype>River</st1:placetype></st1:place>. I assumed it was a <b>House Sparrow</b> when I spotted it in my peripherals. However, as soon as I actually got clean look, from not more than fifteen feet off, I quickly realized the bird's true identity. <br />
<br />
So was it my own photography skills? The Crested Lark and Booted Eagle shot from the day seem to suggest that I had steady hands (da best!), and I had the bird well exposed and in the center of the frame. Which means the camera’s processor had ONE JOB TO DO.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cVykCmMV_L0/UDGJ7JaEi7I/AAAAAAAAEHc/KFDzAdrE23U/s1600/gwagtail.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="260" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cVykCmMV_L0/UDGJ7JaEi7I/AAAAAAAAEHc/KFDzAdrE23U/s400/gwagtail.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And it failed miserably...</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Unfortunately the camera elected to focus on the water behind the bird. Before I got a second opportunity, the wagtail flew off. Luckily, I managed to chase it down and get a somewhat decent shot, but it decided it no longer wanted to be photographed and flew off before I got to within fifty feet. I elected to delete the missed picture (simply too painful to keep) and not toss my camera deep into the <st1:place><st1:placename>Guadalquivir</st1:placename> <st1:placetype>River</st1:placetype></st1:place> (why can’t a $400 camera have 35x zoom <i>and</i> produce DSLR quality pics? Jeez.) Of course, if it was always that easy, it wouldn’t be any fun. C’est la bird photography.<o:p></o:p></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5018220938556771588.post-45419199978627391242012-08-14T22:39:00.002-07:002012-08-15T11:40:34.238-07:00Species Spotlight #21: Eastern Garter Snake<div class="MsoNormal">Back when I was a kid, I only knew a couple kinds of snakes. Copperhead was one. I had to be careful of Copperheads – they were poisonous, after all. But I also knew the <b>Garter Snake</b>. Back then I didn’t know better, so I thought pretty much everything was a <b>Garter Snake</b>. Brown Snake? Nope! Juvenile Garter Snake. Water Snake? Nope! <b>Garter Snake </b>in the water. It took me a long time to get over this preconception. It took even longer to find an actual <b>Garter Snake</b>.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I’ve never actually caught a <b>Garter Snake</b>. Not yet, anyway. They’re supposed to be quite nasty, and the first one I ever identified was slithering along a white picket fence at my parents house. My dog, curious as always, stuck his nose in the face of this foreign creature, and it struck at him time and time again. My dog, a rather stupid and oblivious creature, continued to sniff it.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FRnXyjfzBoE/UCs1-4iz2HI/AAAAAAAAEF8/lDf4kv2xICc/s1600/gartersnake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="253" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FRnXyjfzBoE/UCs1-4iz2HI/AAAAAAAAEF8/lDf4kv2xICc/s400/gartersnake.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">One day last summer, James and I decided to visit the Korstian Division of Duke Forest. We saw great birds that day, but also plenty of snakes – <st1:place><b>Eastern Hognose</b></st1:place><b> </b>and <b>Northern Water </b>being the highlights. But on the way down to the creek, we found this <b>Eastern Garter Snake </b>slithering across the path, and boy it didn’t want to be messed with. James took this long-distance shot, but as soon as he moved in for a macro, the snake began to ferociously strike the camera. Apparently that’s just how <b>Garter Snakes </b>are. They’re not too common, but I’ve never gotten up the courage to catch one if I see it. I’m prepared to get bitten if necessary. Next time.<o:p></o:p></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5018220938556771588.post-31392611363623060632012-08-09T22:01:00.001-07:002012-08-09T22:09:53.897-07:00Spanish Bird of the Week #11: Booted Eagle<div class="MsoNormal"><b>By James</b><br />
<br />
Even before I became a birder, I was fascinated by birds of prey. Though I didn’t know exactly what I was looking at, I’ve always been excited to see a hawk flying overhead. Now that I have become a birder, little has changed. Sure I’m able to differentiate a Red-tailed Hawks from Red-shouldered Hawk, and Cooper’s Hawk from Northern Harrier, but I still enjoy seeing large predatory birds soar across the sky. During my stay in <st1:country -region="-region">Spain</st1:country>, the most common bird of prey I saw I was the <b>Booted Eagle</b>.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-f2oCu5uCNu0/UCSVaCSNr2I/AAAAAAAAEFI/ze4W3ahH-Iw/s1600/bootedeagle1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="278" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-f2oCu5uCNu0/UCSVaCSNr2I/AAAAAAAAEFI/ze4W3ahH-Iw/s400/bootedeagle1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I found the <b>Booted Eagle</b> very interesting, especially for an eagle. Eagles are supposed to be majestic flyers, the most powerful birds in the sky. But in reality, the <b>Booted Eagle</b> is a relatively small bird, far closer in size to a Red-tailed Hawk than the large Golden and Bald Eagles that frequent this side of the pond. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nrWJg1dQHys/UCSVfy_vLQI/AAAAAAAAEFQ/ZpOneg0tZsY/s1600/bootedeagle2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nrWJg1dQHys/UCSVfy_vLQI/AAAAAAAAEFQ/ZpOneg0tZsY/s400/bootedeagle2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Just like the Red-tailed Hawk, I rarely if ever saw one perched. Instead, the small eagle simply soared directly overhead, catching thermals and circling high into the sky. Thankfully, one day I got a great look. While walking down the <st1:place>Guadalquivir</st1:place> river towards Parque Alamillo, I saw a large bird flying straight at me. Finally, instead of getting an awkward overhead shot, I got a real look at this awesome bird. </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5018220938556771588.post-41347709982023608342012-08-07T22:36:00.002-07:002012-08-07T22:45:55.322-07:00Species Spotlight #20: Green Frog<div class="MsoNormal">I hear it all the time. Every time I pass a pond rife with duckweed, or a stagnant canal, or a streamhead. A distinct sound, like the bottom string of a banjo struck by an untrained student. <i>Bonk! </i>Always once, never in succession. This is the sound of a <b>Green Frog</b>. And they are hard to find!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">A month or so ago, Ali and I found a small pool that had a <b>Green Frog </b>calling from it. There was nowhere to hide, no nooks, crannies, or thick vegetation. We found a large <b>Bullfrog </b>vocalizing from a low-hanging branch, but still the <b>Green Frog </b>called, and we couldn’t find it. That’s when we found a long tunnel dug into the earth, flooded with water until there was barely any space to rest. Still the <b>Green Frog </b>called.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We were never able to find that specific individual, but I’ve seen <b>Green Frogs </b>before. When James and I visited Howell Woods last summer, the resident park ranger spun a yarn about a <b>Bullfrog </b>that would sit at the edge of an artificial pool, waiting for hummingbirds to come and drink before striking with deadly force. Of course I didn’t believe the story, but once I looked down into the pool, I saw a very similar individual – a <b>Green Frog </b>lay among the lilies. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-K49IGdJg-BY/UCH6ughDsjI/AAAAAAAAEEc/NHuZGV3HOMc/s1600/greenfrog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-K49IGdJg-BY/UCH6ughDsjI/AAAAAAAAEEc/NHuZGV3HOMc/s400/greenfrog.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">It’s a difficult identification, and it’s no wonder the park ranger didn’t note the caudal ridges that differentiated this individual from the closely related <b>Bullfrog</b>. It’s a frog that’s often heard but rarely seen. Yet they’re always present, hidden in the pond scum or under a muddy ledge. Still the <b>Green Frog </b>lives, oblivious to all these troubles.<o:p></o:p></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5018220938556771588.post-68159579801387165172012-08-05T21:15:00.000-07:002012-08-05T21:15:55.854-07:00It Has Begun...<div class="MsoNormal">It’s getting to be that time of year – birds breeding in the north are starting to meander their way down, stopping every so often before heading for tropical climes. Included among these migrants are some of my favorite birds, the shorebirds. I look forward to shorebirding season every year once the water levels at the major reservoirs drop low enough for expansive mudflats to form. But it’s still early in the season, and the mudflats haven’t quite formed yet, so James and I decided to check out the next best thing – the drying beds at the local water treatment plant.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">After receiving permission to lift the huge metal gate, we began our drive past large vats of what I can only assume is water being treated (for what, I’ve got no idea). Despite the expanse concrete, we found plenty of birds – a <b>Blue Grosbeak </b>sang from a nearby field, and a huge mixed flock of <b>European Starlings </b>and <b>Brown-headed Cowbirds </b>of all ages whirled and whipped around as they foraged along the roadside. <b>Barn Swallows </b>and <b>Purple Martins </b>dipped low over the water hunting for various insects, but I tried to push them out of my mind. Those weren’t the birds we were looking for. Then I heard a couple of high-pitched screeches pierce the air. Shorebirds!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">At first I could only see a small flock of <b>Killdeer</b>, vocalizing loudly each time they took to the air. But then I began to notice a couple smaller birds with them, and once they landed on a nice concrete ledge, I found myself looking at my first true migrant of the season: a nice <b>Solitary Sandpiper</b>, and then a second, working their way down the line, looking for prey down below. Between them, pumping its short tail the entire way, ran a smaller <b>Spotted Sandpiper</b>, already bereft of its namesake breeding plumage.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bMj9oTG2CIg/UB9EnZlnneI/AAAAAAAAEDo/qZYYaNoFBAs/s1600/solitary.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="248" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bMj9oTG2CIg/UB9EnZlnneI/AAAAAAAAEDo/qZYYaNoFBAs/s400/solitary.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If they're called <b>Solitary Sandpipers</b>, how come I'm always finding them in twos and threes?</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Both of these species are easy to find during both migrations, and the seasons last so long that it seems there’s only a couple weeks out of the summer where I <i>can’t </i>find one of these sandpipers. James and I were searching for those exclusively fall migrant shorebirds, the harbingers of the year’s end. While I was getting an eyeful of an extremely cooperative <b>Solitary Sandpiper</b>, I noticed a head pop up behind tufts of grass that grew between cracks in the concrete ledge. There’s no way I could mistake it – I see hundreds, if not thousands, each shorebirding season. The <b>Pectoral Sandpipers</b> were back in town!<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-L6Q46PtJUX8/UB9E46RtlwI/AAAAAAAAEDw/Z9-uDK6zBUM/s1600/pectoral2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="277" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-L6Q46PtJUX8/UB9E46RtlwI/AAAAAAAAEDw/Z9-uDK6zBUM/s400/pectoral2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And still as aggravating to photograph as ever....</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We inched the car closer, trying to keep it in neutral so we could use it as a photography blind. But the <st1:city><st1:place><b>Pecs</b></st1:place></st1:city><b> </b>weren’t having any of it. Before we got too close, they took off with a couple of <b>Killdeer </b>and headed for one of the drying beds on the far side. You won’t find two more skittish shorebirds than these, and pretty soon they’ll be the bane of my shorebirding, taking huge flocks of birds with them when they flush a hundred feet away from you. For now though, I’m just happy the shorebirds are back. Here’s to three fruitful months of poring over peeps in worn plumage, trying to check the leg color on far-off pipers, and exploring the minutiae between specks in the distance. Here’s to shorebirding!<o:p></o:p></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5018220938556771588.post-27055514508018416042012-08-02T22:22:00.004-07:002012-08-02T22:32:11.002-07:00#55: Cooper's Hawk - Famosa Slough, CA<div class="MsoNormal">I’ve mentioned before that I found a different suite of raptors in <st1:state>California</st1:state> than I see out east. For example, <b>Turkey Vultures</b> and <b>Red-tailed Hawks</b> are extremely uncommon out there (I only found one of each). But if there’s a day in <st1:state>North Carolina</st1:state> where you don’t see at least one of these magnificent birds soaring overhead, you know something’s wrong. I also found <b>American Kestrels </b>fairly common out west, and I’d often see one hovering in overhead even in the middle of the city. But I found myself most surprised by how many times I saw <b>Cooper’s Hawks </b>in <st1:city>San Diego</st1:city>.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Not only did I find a whole bunch of <b>Cooper’s Hawks</b>, but I also got great views each time. I remember one day at <st1:place><st1:placename>Cabrillo</st1:placename> <st1:placetype>National Monument</st1:placetype></st1:place> in Point Loma when I stood on a scenic overlook that jutted out from a cliff that ran down into a chaparral valley. A stiff breeze blew from the <st1:place>Pacific Ocean</st1:place> into <st1:place><st1:placename>San Diego</st1:placename> <st1:placetype>Bay</st1:placetype></st1:place>, and an immature <b>Cooper’s Hawk </b>took this opportunity to fly into the wind, soaring at eye level as he searched for prey down below. I even got to see them perched, like this immature individual who would fly low over the reeds at Famosa Slough.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Tmo34Ou6TLY/UBtfw9sZmgI/AAAAAAAAEC8/CE4vecRf8ts/s1600/coops.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="277" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Tmo34Ou6TLY/UBtfw9sZmgI/AAAAAAAAEC8/CE4vecRf8ts/s400/coops.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Out east our <b>Cooper’s Hawks </b>are different. If you see one, it’s probably flying from one section of dense forest to another, passing over the path for a brief moment while just a couple feet off the ground. My best look at this species came while I was driving home from work one day. I saw a bird following the contours of the empty road, maybe six feet in the air. I sped up until I was going way faster than I should have been (not recommended), matching the hawk’s speed. For a split second, right outside my window, I watched an adult <b>Cooper’s Hawk </b>fly like not many people ever have. A hell of an experience, to say the least. And a hell of a bird.<o:p></o:p></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5018220938556771588.post-42633495858022737272012-07-31T22:27:00.000-07:002012-07-31T22:27:19.614-07:00A Long Awaited Lifer<div class="MsoNormal">Like I said before, the entire reason James and I headed down to <st1:place><st1:placename>Huntington Beach</st1:placename> <st1:placetype>State Park</st1:placetype></st1:place> was to find <b>Roseate Spoonbills</b>, an awesome bird that’s relatively common in the right part of its range. However, this far north the birds only show up during post-breeding dispersal, and by the time we showed up, the birds appeared to have dispersed even farther. We were really looking forward to them, but we had to make do with more common birds like this <b>Tricolored Heron </b>that hunted right off the causeway.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Hv4MUmmlRAw/UBi7-9Af3GI/AAAAAAAAEBQ/A2SXkxhG1h8/s1600/tricolor.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="242" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Hv4MUmmlRAw/UBi7-9Af3GI/AAAAAAAAEBQ/A2SXkxhG1h8/s400/tricolor.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">That morning, I watched an <b>American Alligator </b>idling in the water next to some large wooden scaffolding. Perhaps he was eyeing the <b>Snowy Egret </b>that would dart in and out of the rungs, every once in a while picking off a fish or two from the water’s surface. But the egret was skittish, and when the gator got too close it flew to the top row of the scaffolding. Luckily for me, this was about my eye level, and I enjoyed a great look at a common bird.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8QZNu3kFtJc/UBi8jqgM8oI/AAAAAAAAEBY/26JZ3DgdYMA/s1600/snowyegret.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="261" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8QZNu3kFtJc/UBi8jqgM8oI/AAAAAAAAEBY/26JZ3DgdYMA/s400/snowyegret.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Without any indication, a huge white thing flew in and scared the <b>Snowy Egret </b>off its perch. And suddenly I was staring face to face with an enormous <b>Wood Stork</b>. I’m not sure if I’ve made it clear how awesome I find <b>Wood Storks</b>, but I think they’re pretty much the coolest bird ever. Just to get the chance to see a whole flock of them was almost enough to ease the sting of missing the spoonbills, and yet here I stood not five feet from one, enjoying every crook and cranny of its knobby head.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5HyyPRc3f6M/UBi822sf2AI/AAAAAAAAEBg/tAZTIrO8enk/s1600/woodstork2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="282" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5HyyPRc3f6M/UBi822sf2AI/AAAAAAAAEBg/tAZTIrO8enk/s400/woodstork2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">Immediately, I phoned James on his cell as he was off watching <b>Common Gallinules </b>and <b>Painted Buntings</b>. This was one of the coolest things I’d ever seen; he had to be there to photograph it! Alas, by the time James showed up, the <b>Wood Stork </b>abandoned his perch in favor of a little mid-morning hunting. To be fair, the bird was still right off the causeway and our views were amazing. But they’ll never match a <b>Wood Stork </b>that I could’ve reached out and touched if I wanted to.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ih8PUuy8vqQ/UBi9LBn08RI/AAAAAAAAEBs/pBcA0UYJHNQ/s1600/woodstork1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="295" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ih8PUuy8vqQ/UBi9LBn08RI/AAAAAAAAEBs/pBcA0UYJHNQ/s400/woodstork1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">If you watch <b>Wood Storks </b>hunt for a while, you’ll notice some idiosyncrasies about them. For one, most of the time they just stand there with their bills open, hoping something will swim through slowly enough that they can clap them shut. For another, they’ll often walk around with one wing outstretched, presumably shading the water so a hapless fish will take shelter underneath. It looks prehistoric when they do it, like they’re honest to God dinosaurs feeding in a herd during the late Cretaceous. Of course, being birds, they are in fact honest to God dinosaurs, but that’s a story for another time. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OXzRuoQjxGA/UBi9eP5MuFI/AAAAAAAAEB0/fPfPRvVtjjw/s1600/woodstork3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="273" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OXzRuoQjxGA/UBi9eP5MuFI/AAAAAAAAEB0/fPfPRvVtjjw/s400/woodstork3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">At that point, we had a choice – stick around in <st1:state>South Carolina</st1:state>, watching birds we’ve already seen, or make a bee-line for <st1:place><st1:placename>Twin</st1:placename> <st1:placetype>Lakes</st1:placetype></st1:place> in <st1:state>North Carolina</st1:state>, where the very <b>Roseate Spoonbills </b>we were looking for had been roosting for the last couple weeks. Not that we needed any help in the decision, but a couple Triangle-area birders let us know that the spoonbills had been seen earlier that morning. In little more than an hour (thanks to some poor directions from the internets), James and I found ourselves looking across the lakes for any signs of birds roosting in trees. And just our luck, they were nowhere to be found.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Disappointed, we tried one last pass at the lakes, and on the way back we noticed a couple white birds perched in a tall pine. They were far off, but they were definitely <b>Wood Storks</b>, and the <b>Roseate Spoonbills </b>were reported to be associating with a <b>Wood Stork </b>flock. As we scoped the far end of the lake, none of the birds turned pink enough for us to pick them out from a distance. I even began to convince myself that a far-off <b>Snowy Egret </b>looked like a spoonbill! I was that delusional. Then, something flew out from the far tree and into the water next to an old flagpole.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hCQJ2RRC1P4/UBi9sh1y8CI/AAAAAAAAECA/HDkXp-dhxSg/s1600/mystery.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hCQJ2RRC1P4/UBi9sh1y8CI/AAAAAAAAECA/HDkXp-dhxSg/s400/mystery.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There's gotta be one in there somewhere!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I could barely see it with my naked eye, but the view through the scope confirmed it – <b>Roseate Spoonbills</b>, two of them! They fed alongside the storks and egrets like they had no idea that two birders had traveled through hell and high water to watch them. But at this distance, the views weren’t nearly satisfying enough. We drove down a side road, and sure enough there was an empty lot right next to where the spoonbills were hanging out. We raced down the hill, braving poison ivy and stinging nettles until we were right on top of the birds.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zAu-FR9A6is/UBi-DH2ns1I/AAAAAAAAECI/lAvytCxIENQ/s1600/spoonbills1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="251" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zAu-FR9A6is/UBi-DH2ns1I/AAAAAAAAECI/lAvytCxIENQ/s400/spoonbills1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">I took a second to myself. Sitting there, watching a pair of birds that I’ve wanted to see since I was a kid. The ridiculous looking bills, the muted pink just starting to grow in. I almost couldn’t believe it. Yet there they were, oblivious to my ecstatic state as birds are wont to do. Fearing we may be trespassing, we headed off before five minutes were up. But those five minutes were all I needed to fully enjoy one hell of a lifer.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-78cYOtwg67w/UBi-LIrwKTI/AAAAAAAAECQ/0lmh9_BggyM/s1600/roseatespoons.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="241" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-78cYOtwg67w/UBi-LIrwKTI/AAAAAAAAECQ/0lmh9_BggyM/s400/roseatespoons.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">On the way back to the car I noticed a <b>Broadhead Skink </b>sauntering through the leaf litter. I could have caught it were I fast enough, but I was still in a dreamlike state from seeing those two awesome birds. I don’t think there’s any life bird that I’ve wanted to see as badly as these spoonbills, and now that I’ve seen them, I honestly feel a little aimless. Like the sole purpose of my birding career to this point had been to find <b>Roseate Spoonbills</b>. I guess I’ll just have to find some other bird to hunt down so passionately, but I’m not sure what that bird will be. I suppose Snowy Owls are cool. Yeah. I choose Snowy Owls.<o:p></o:p></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5018220938556771588.post-47073850746719115672012-07-29T21:37:00.002-07:002012-07-29T21:43:51.705-07:00Spanish Bird of the Week #10: Crested Lark<div class="MsoNormal"><b>By James</b><br />
<br />
There are only two kinds of European birds that I never figured out how properly dfferentiate. The first is, of course, the Sylviidae – <st1:place>Europe</st1:place>’s sorry excuse for warblers. Any American who’s birded in <st1:place>Europe</st1:place> has probably experienced the near impossible task of differentiating Reed Warblers from Garden Warblers from Bonelli’s Warblers from the other ten species that look practically identical. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The second type is the subject of this post: the larks. Differentiating <b>Crested Larks</b> and Thekla Larks, the two species present in Andalucia, is akin to differentiating Gray-cheeked Thrush from Bicknell’s. That is, nearly impossible if you aren’t an experienced birder in the area.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xObA510s0vU/UBYPPMSXAvI/AAAAAAAAEAc/OcAnTLmiZSk/s1600/crested1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="261" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xObA510s0vU/UBYPPMSXAvI/AAAAAAAAEAc/OcAnTLmiZSk/s400/crested1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Which one is it? The ID is difficult even for European birders.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">For me, <b>Crested Larks</b> were infinitely common than Thekla Larks. I had twenty to thirty of the Crested variety, but never had a single one that someone could turn into a Thekla Lark. This isn’t necessarily surprising given the Thekla’s prefer dry plains, but it was still disappointing. <b>Crested Larks</b>, on the other hand seemed to enjoy just about any habitat. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gwhtjJKyJfw/UBYPYYp-kQI/AAAAAAAAEAk/SsVHk1NaD_I/s1600/crested3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="250" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gwhtjJKyJfw/UBYPYYp-kQI/AAAAAAAAEAk/SsVHk1NaD_I/s400/crested3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I frequently saw them in grassy plains, patches of dry dirt, and even along the well-traveled path that runs alongside the <st1:place><st1:placename>Guadalquivir</st1:placename> <st1:placetype>River</st1:placetype></st1:place>, which is were I got my best picture of the lark. It’s a fairly disappointing shot for such a common bird. Oh well. I guess I’ll have to go back at some point.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5018220938556771588.post-49046086478936476102012-07-27T12:49:00.000-07:002012-07-27T12:49:30.649-07:00Night of the Spadefoots<div class="MsoNormal">Well, I was gonna tell you about some awesome birds I found this past weekend, but I’ve had this one on the backburner for too long and it’s a tale I’ve got to tell. It all started that time Ali, Mark and I went down to Sandhills NWR in <st1:state>South Carolina</st1:state>, when we got the third degree from some Fish and Wildlife official and found a fledgling <b>Common Nighthawk </b>on the way out. Before we reached the exit, the skies opened up and rain poured from on high. Torrents sliced through the night so thick you couldn’t see in front of you, and Mark had to pull over lest we crash into something rather more solid than ourselves. That’s when the fun began.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Once the rains relented to a drivable level, we started cruising rural roads outside of Wildlife Refuge boundaries. From the roadsides, scores of frogs and toads began hopping into our path – mostly <b>Southern Toads</b>, but occasionally something more interesting. We found a <b>Green Frog </b>once, far away from any water, and this nice <b>Southern Leopard Frog </b>ended up being extremely photogenic.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7fgzEoqEP8c/UBLuTjpGYlI/AAAAAAAAD-o/lpiE4RCx-RM/s1600/leopard.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="261" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7fgzEoqEP8c/UBLuTjpGYlI/AAAAAAAAD-o/lpiE4RCx-RM/s400/leopard.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I have bad luck catching <b>Leopard Frogs</b> - they're so slippery!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Ali ended up being our spotter, which is good because the kid has eyes like a hawk. He was identifying frogs to species before he even got out of the car! But nobody needed help with this behemoth. A large <b>Bullfrog</b>, one of the biggest I’ve ever seen, was just hanging out on the side of the road, oblivious to the cars passing close by. He’s got some major scarring around his face – I’m not sure if that’s the result of sparring with another frog or if he somehow survived a close encounter with a water snake. But for whatever reason, this gnarly-looking guy remains the only <b>Bullfrog </b>I’ve ever had the pleasure of photographing.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mBpVoixj3rU/UBLulHUk6BI/AAAAAAAAD-w/jvHAw4TjD0M/s1600/bullfrog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="276" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mBpVoixj3rU/UBLulHUk6BI/AAAAAAAAD-w/jvHAw4TjD0M/s400/bullfrog.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not as big as the one Ali and I found a week or two earlier, but still pretty huge!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">With all the <b>Southern Toads </b>we were seeing, even I got pretty good at picking them out at forty miles per hour. So I found it pretty odd when Ali excitedly yelled “Stop the car!” and jumped out for what appeared to be nothing special. Then he ran back in with something altogether different, sucking in air and swelling like a balloon until his legs stuck out useless at his sides. To this day, it remains the coolest herp I’ve ever seen, something you can only find on summer nights when it rains enough to convince them to mate. In my hand, I was holding an <st1:place><b>Eastern Spadefoot</b></st1:place>.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8HE95fHiOiQ/UBLuxGgP_DI/AAAAAAAAD-8/1i11MGRPp2Q/s1600/spadefoot2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="263" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8HE95fHiOiQ/UBLuxGgP_DI/AAAAAAAAD-8/1i11MGRPp2Q/s400/spadefoot2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The males were a lot more colorful, with a kind of purple tint to them.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">That night, the <b>Spadefoots </b>were out in force. We ended up finding eight or nine, and each time they’d inflate themselves as some kind of defense mechanism. I expected them to be small, and while the males were pretty modestly-sized, some of the big females we found were huge – one was almost four inches long! I found it surprisingly difficult to hold them, because they’d try to dig down using their namesake spades which actually hurts a bit when you’re being kicked by a big frog. I’ll never forget that night – by far the best roadcruising we ever had.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-U9RUNTqpcL4/UBLvTXz29RI/AAAAAAAAD_E/c1yVPx_ep8w/s1600/spadefoot1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="261" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-U9RUNTqpcL4/UBLvTXz29RI/AAAAAAAAD_E/c1yVPx_ep8w/s400/spadefoot1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The big females, on the other hand, had a striking brown-and-yellow pattern to them.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We actually kept a bunch of the frogs overnight in a small Styrofoam cooler filled with water so that we could photograph them the next day. We set up shop next to a random pond which worked out well for me – this way, I could look for some new kinds of fish while Mark and Ali photographed to their heart’s content. Immediately, I pulled up something rather different than the <st1:place><b>Eastern Mosquitofish</b></st1:place><b> </b>I’d been finding all day. After a bit of research, Ali determined that this guy was a <b>Lined Topminnow</b>, and its pretty cool that I can finally put names to some of the random fish that I’ve been seeing.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IhELW6oUhB8/UBLvmOMH8CI/AAAAAAAAD_M/9WKRPs6ApIU/s1600/fishstripe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="256" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IhELW6oUhB8/UBLvmOMH8CI/AAAAAAAAD_M/9WKRPs6ApIU/s400/fishstripe.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We saw a couple of bass swimming amongst the schools of fish, but we just couldn't seem to catch them.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We released the frogs and headed back towards home. That’s when we realized that we were pretty close to Pinehurst No. 2, which if you didn’t know is the golf course where all the rich people play until they get kicked out when the US Open rolls around. In any case, I’d heard it was a great place to find <b>Fox Squirrels</b>, but since I haven’t had any luck photographing these guys, I wasn’t expected we’d find any. But sure enough, right on the side of the road and totally ignored by golfers with their sweatshirts tied around their necks, this <b>Fox Squirrel </b>chowed down on mushrooms.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dXXd06V6-As/UBLv7BJACOI/AAAAAAAAD_U/cc_Uu1klH0Y/s1600/foxsquirrel1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="276" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dXXd06V6-As/UBLv7BJACOI/AAAAAAAAD_U/cc_Uu1klH0Y/s400/foxsquirrel1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mmm... mushrooms...</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Now feeling a sense of completion, we made good on our plan to return to the Triangle. Since I had to wait a little while for my ride home, I decided to photograph one of the many <b>Mediterranean House Geckos </b>Ali and I caught that one random night. He’s been keeping them to see if he can get them to breed. No success that I know of, but at least they’re still super chill after a couple weeks in captivity.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9XEXwVoV5vg/UBLwePYd6RI/AAAAAAAAD_k/o5FIf39uWeM/s1600/House+Gecko.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="262" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9XEXwVoV5vg/UBLwePYd6RI/AAAAAAAAD_k/o5FIf39uWeM/s400/House+Gecko.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just chilling and showing off his amazing wall-climbing skills. No big deal.</td></tr>
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">I couldn’t have asked for anything more. With amazing herps, great mammals, and even a couple of fish, this lastest trip down to the Sandhills was a fantastic one that I’ll never forget. Since then, I’ve gotten distracted by birds again, so look forward to a super awesome final conclusion to our Huntington Beach trip sometime next week!<o:p></o:p></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5018220938556771588.post-57509000380315241912012-07-25T12:54:00.000-07:002012-07-25T12:54:04.500-07:00Decisions, Decisions, Decisions<div class="MsoNormal">One of the most important decisions you can make while birding is which way to go. And I’m not talking about should you take 40 or 95, or the 17 or the <st1:street>Grissom Parkway</st1:street>. More importantly, should you take a right or left at the trailhead? Should you finish the loop or double back? These decisions can alter the very course of a birding adventure. That day, James and I made two different decisions.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I decided to camp out at the <st1:city>Huntington Beach</st1:city> causeway, a legendary place that had tons of birds the day before. I’d hoped that some of the oft-reported Roseate Spoonbills would fly in, but it appears they left several days before we arrived. For the moment, I would have to be content with close looks at a pair of <b>Osprey </b>as they gracefully dove for fish over the shallow pond.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Vhjr3Edtw3M/UBBMVKDGAHI/AAAAAAAAD9o/WTGTvalTye4/s1600/osprey.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Vhjr3Edtw3M/UBBMVKDGAHI/AAAAAAAAD9o/WTGTvalTye4/s400/osprey.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Honestly he got really close, but he was flying too fast for a good picture.</td></tr>
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">James, on the other hand, chose to visit the Atalaya trail, which runs through forests and marshes before terminating at an old homestead. The only problem with this trail is that, as we’d found the day before, there aren’t a whole lot of vantage points for viewing the marsh. And any time you can find a break in the foliage, there are giant Golden Silk Orb Weavers, large spiders that build impressive webs. The whole thing is pretty precarious, but apparently it can work out. James ended up getting great views of this <b>Common Gallinule </b>bathing in the duckweed. It’s a lifer for him, as the Common Moorhens he found in <st1:country-region>Spain</st1:country-region> were recently split – I’m still not quite sure why, the two birds look fairly identical to me!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RZYcixgdarA/UBBMhNqbURI/AAAAAAAAD9w/JDbjFsPrYVo/s1600/gallinule.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RZYcixgdarA/UBBMhNqbURI/AAAAAAAAD9w/JDbjFsPrYVo/s400/gallinule.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just sayin', non-<i>Gallinula </i>species shouldn't be called gallinules... I'm lookin' at you, <i>Porphyrio martinica</i>.</td></tr>
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">Next, James decided to visit the feeders by the nature center to get better looks at the multitude of <b>Painted Buntings</b>. Turns out, he didn’t have to go very far – just a short ways down Atalaya, a nice male landed right at his feet! Apparently they do a lot of <b>Painted Bunting </b>banding at <st1:place><st1:placename>Huntington Beach</st1:placename> <st1:placetype>State Park</st1:placetype></st1:place>, because every male we saw sported colorful ankle jewelry denoting his identity. James didn’t get to enjoy the bird as long as he’d have liked to, because as seems to happen all too often, a jogger ran through and flushed the bird. Damn joggers…</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-asRcYjCeMJQ/UBBM-b1ZGII/AAAAAAAAD94/xjZu7Xj8hI4/s1600/paintedbunting2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="261" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-asRcYjCeMJQ/UBBM-b1ZGII/AAAAAAAAD94/xjZu7Xj8hI4/s400/paintedbunting2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">How dare he not stop and gaze in wonderment at such a bird? But bro, he totally did a 7:20 mile!</td></tr>
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">The boardwalk that runs north of the nature center meanders through the nearby salt marsh. On Saturday, a huge flock of <b>White Ibis </b>lined the sides, but once we showed up to photograph them, a couple of tourists bustled through and flushed them. The same happened to a couple of <b>Green Herons </b>that were chilling on the tall railings. James visited that morning at an hour too early for most people, and one of the <b>Green Herons </b>didn’t mind just one person standing around to take its picture.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lc188pX3QxU/UBBNZGHPpoI/AAAAAAAAD-A/gtYsqKkCIu8/s1600/greenheron2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="246" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lc188pX3QxU/UBBNZGHPpoI/AAAAAAAAD-A/gtYsqKkCIu8/s400/greenheron2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Around here, <b>Green Herons </b>are one of the more skittish birds you can find. But at HBSP, they don't give a damn!</td></tr>
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">Back at the causeway, the <b>Wood Storks </b>started streaming in, and some landed much closer than they had on Saturday. Just off the viewing platform, I noticed a school of fish jumping out of the water close by. I wondered if one of the many gators decided to take his chance with smaller prey when I got my answer – not a gator, but a nice <b>Anhinga </b>rose out of the water, with its breakfast impaled on its beak.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0EaLUP-o2Fw/UBBNuts4STI/AAAAAAAAD-M/DTstWKIJn6Y/s1600/anhinga1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0EaLUP-o2Fw/UBBNuts4STI/AAAAAAAAD-M/DTstWKIJn6Y/s400/anhinga1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Unbeknownst to most nature enthusiasts, but knownst to us, <b>Anhingas </b>have a hilarious derp-face.</td></tr>
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">I’ve never seen <b>Anhingas </b>this close up before, so watching it hunt and feed at point-blank range was all the more exciting. Especially when the bird gets quite animated doing so – to prevent the fish’s dorsal spines from getting stuck in its throat, the <b>Anhinga </b>has to do a juggling act in order to swallow it, tossing the fish in the air until it points the right direction. As if the <b>Anhingas </b>didn’t look like they had a long enough neck already!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CE-8Z57-nIM/UBBN9rm5hCI/AAAAAAAAD-U/9BPUDJqpT0I/s1600/anhinga2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="256" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CE-8Z57-nIM/UBBN9rm5hCI/AAAAAAAAD-U/9BPUDJqpT0I/s400/anhinga2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crazily enough, that crooked neck they have is actually the shape of their neck vertebrae.</td></tr>
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">After a hard morning’s fishing, the <b>Anhinga </b>awkwardly waddled up onto a nearby island and turned its back towards the sun, drying its feathers. Unlike most other water-going birds, <b>Anhingas </b>lack oil glands with which to waterproof their feathers, so after swimming, it gets just as wet as you or I. Not that I mind this brief evolutionary shortcoming – it just means that <b>Anhingas </b>get quite photogenic!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-27r1V7PBwXY/UBBOnfqaBaI/AAAAAAAAD-c/H_s5pIs5Lq0/s1600/anhinga3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="251" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-27r1V7PBwXY/UBBOnfqaBaI/AAAAAAAAD-c/H_s5pIs5Lq0/s400/anhinga3.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Would you just take the picture already? It's only going to be sitting there for the next hour and a half!</td></tr>
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">At this point, a really cool bird flew up next to me, so close I could have touched it. I called James, but he was of course off doing his own thing, and by the time he got there the bird flew back to the water. And then we made the decision to go find a wholly different bird. But these are all stories for another day. Like Friday, perhaps? Check back then for the exciting conclusion of our <st1:city>Huntington Beach</st1:city> adventure!<o:p></o:p></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0