The Times, They Are A-Changin'

Oh man, it’s almost here. I can smell it on the wind – the sweet aroma of blooming flowers and fresh grass that means spring is here and migration is on its way. There’s an old adage that says robins are the first sign of spring. Now, any birder worth his salt knows that’s not true, and that American Robins are present throughout the year, weathering our coldest winters and breeding in our hottest summers. But that hasn’t stop huge flocks of robins from forming all around the Triangle recently, noisily foraging in suburban lawns and dense forest.

For being so common, it really is an awesome looking bird!

The warm temperatures are encouraging our winter birds to do strange things. Hermit Thrushes have started singing in the woods, and I’ve been hearing the ascending tunes of both kinglet species. But among them, I’ve begun to hear the songs of my familiar summer birds, finally back after this mild winter. At Mason Farm today, I heard both Blue-gray Gnatcatchers and Northern Parulas, a welcome respite from my normal roster of White-throated Sparrows and Yellow-rumped Warblers. Plus the herps have started moving too, and I managed to find several immature Five-lined Skinks with their electric blue tails.

Unfortunately I couldn't get one to sit still! Quick little buggers...

While herping, I’ve found that flipping logs is a perfectly fine way to find reptile and amphibians – just today I found my fair share of Marbled Salamanders, and last week it was the best way to find Brown Snakes. But recently, I’ve found loose bark to be even more productive, and every time I see a tree with its bark hanging off, I peek behind it to see what I might find. Mostly I’ve found Carolina Anoles and a couple adult Five-lined Skinks. But yesterday I found this beautiful adult Eastern Fence Lizard hanging out, perhaps the largest I’ve ever seen. You can even see a bit of that reflective blue underside showing from just beneath its chin!

Of course, the sun disappeared just as I took this shot. Figures.

But lizards aren’t the only thing I’ve been finding as of late. Sure, I’ve uncovered my share of termite nests and ant colonies, and immediately I’ll lay the bark back in place (I had a bad experience). But today, when I peered behind the dead bark I found the unmistakable black and gray pattern of an immature Black Ratsnake. Now, I’m far more used to seeing his larger brothers, but this little guy had some fight in him. As I dragged him off the tree, he immediately struck out and dug into my pointer finger like it was his last meal. Of course, being so small, his needle-sharp teeth barely drew blood, but it was a good experience for me – any good herper has to learn to be bitten by snakes, and this was my first step into a larger world. Eventually I got him under control, and learned how difficult it is to photograph a snake in one hand while holding the camera with the other.

He was an extremely wriggly little guy!

With my herping pretty much done for the day, I got to admire the birds, and there were a lot of them. For some reason, the White-throated and Song Sparrows took to flocking in the path looking for food. Occasionally a cardinal or mockingbird would join them, and on one occasion I saw a Hispid Cotton Rat make his way amongst the flock. While I watched one particularly large group of birds, I noticed an enormous yellow blaze hurtle to the ground and land among the sparrows. It took me a half second to realize it was a Northern Flicker, a large woodpecker that’s particularly keen on hanging out land-side. As I crept closer, the flicker ignored me for food, and I was more than happy to sit there and photograph him til he took off for a stand of trees. What a way-cool bird.

I mean, who can say no to a woodpecker with polka-dots?

Seeing as I had to get back and watch Lehigh kick some Blue Devil tail, I left the birds and herps as they were. In just a couple weeks time, the trees will be full of singing warblers, the trails full of cruising snakes, and the woods full of nature yet to be discovered. I can’t wait.

What’s Up Migration? Long Time No See!

So, I don’t know about you, but through the end of last week and over the weekend, migration kind of snuck up on me. Not shorebird migration, mind you, but rather that most coveted of birder seasons, warbler migration. I went out a couple times to see what I can find, but between bad weather and forgetting my camera, I’m going to have to recycle some shots here. Ready? Here goes!

Saturday was the first time I thought to head out specifically for migrant flocks. People throughout the region have been reporting good warbler numbers and more than a couple Empidonax species, so I was a little behind on the ball. The local greenway held a Magnolia Warbler and a vocalizing American Redstart, but not much else. At the nearby Herman G. Wilson Park, I came upon a flock of Parids that responded well to my feeble attempts at pishing, but no warblers were to be found – instead a little Ruby-crowned Kinglet flew in, my first of the season and a little early by most regards. Down near the slow moving Bolin Creek, I could hear a Northern Waterthrush vocalizing its clear familiar chips.

Except that this pic was actually taken at Mason Farm last August.

Sunday was much more fruitful. After reading a report online, I bolted down to the always-bountiful Falls Lake with Scott of Birdaholic – remember, just last week we were down at the very spot watching a rare Parasitic Jaeger, but this time we saw a different wayward bird. Just past the remains of a derelict flat-bottom boat sat a seemingly content American Oystercatcher, a bird that’s common enough on the coast but strangely scarce anywhere inland. The pied shorebird seemed completely out of place during the time of year when you’re trying to examine the minutiae of drab little peeps, but hey, I’m not complaining!

Er, just pretend that instead of Oregon Inlet, this was taken on
a random rocky island in the middle of the lake!

On a tip, Scott and I headed down to the nearby Ellerbe Creek mudflats, where we found another Magnolia Warbler hanging out along the railroad tracks and a drab little Palm Warbler perched on a dead snag. We quickly scanned the mudflats and ascertained that, aside from a mess-ton of Lesser Yellowlegs and the continuing pair of American Avocets, there wasn’t a whole lot of action on the shorebird front. But we weren’t there for the shorebirds – a large flock of Chimney Swifts and swallows flew back and forth over the grassflats, darting and diving with agility and grace, catching insects on the wing. We pegged each swallow as it flew past – Northern Rough-winged Swallow. Barn Swallow. Tree Swallow. Then Scott noticed a raptor being pursued by a crow out among the clouds, my first Northern Harrier of the year. A cool bird, but not my quarry.

But it was pretty much like this one we found at Mason Farm last winter.

The swifts and swallows began to circle closer over the railroad tracks, giving us good looks at every species except, apparently, the one we were looking for. Suddenly, Scott announced he had it, just for a second, but it flew behind a tree and vanished. With a massive push the swallows flew closer than they had ever been before, and as swifts streamed overhead I noticed a small bird flash across my view, totally unmistakable in my binoculars – our target, a Bank Swallow! It’s a life bird for me, a state bird for Scott, and a bird I totally didn't expect to find while out twitching late on a Sunday afternoon. 

And that was the end of our birding day, as we both had to head home. Honestly though, I don't think I could come up with a better way to end my first weekend of full-on fall migration!