What's So Great About That Franklin Guy, Anyway?

In order to be successful in today’s birding world, it’s important to be wired at all times. If you’re able, you can receive eBird alerts or listserv emails while you’re in the field and immediately twitch the rare birds in question. If you don’t have an iPhone or other smart device, you won’t even realize you’ve missed a life bird while you’re out birding. Or, in my case, while you’re at work, which is where I was when a would-be lifer Franklin’s Gull was reported from a random causeway over Jordan Lake.

When I got home and read that email on the local listserv, I thought I was screwed. No way would a Franklin’s Gull be anything but a one-day wonder, but I had to try. After a sleep-deprived night and early-morning shift at work, I made my way over to the causeway, and sure enough a bunch of gulls lounged around on a little jetty in the morning sun. Unfortunately, as I fumbled for my scope, a pair of kayakers decided to make a bee-line for the gulls, and as they neared the entire flock alighted. Whether or not the Franklin’s was present in the flock pre-kayakers, I’m not sure, all I am sure of is that when the flock finally settled down, my target gull was nowhere to be found. I did find a trio of juvenile Laughing Gulls and a previously-reported Sanderling, both pretty good birds for the area. If they stuck around, I remained confident the Franklin’s must be around as well, so I waited. There were other birds around to occupy my time, like these Black Vultures that would fly so close you could hear their feathers rustling!

Instead, here's a much more mundane pic of them standing around.

Periodically I would check the spit, just to see if my bird had shown up. No luck yet, but the water level began to drop, and the sandbar began to elongate. Gulls came and went, mostly Ring-billed Gulls, but also some more interesting birds, like a nice Common Tern, a good bird in the Piedmont at any time, especially so as the weather begins to grow cold around here. The trees surrounding the causeway were full of warblers, but as far as I could tell, the vast majority of them were Blackpoll Warblers, an insanely common bird at the right time of the year.

Naturally, he would jump into the light every time I put away my camera.

I watched the Blackpolls flit between that little grove of trees so many times, I now have a pretty good idea what a Blackpoll Warbler flight call sounds like. It’s important to check all the birds though, or I would’ve missed a nice flyover Peregrine Falcon earlier in the morning, or a pair of Ospreys that soared over the middle of the lake. As such, perusing the warblers finally turned up something different, a little bird with inky streaks down its sides, and a nice little pattern in the face – my first good look at a Cape May Warbler this fall.

A vast improvement over our old Cape May Warbler shot.

Suddenly, I heard an odd squawk over by the expanding sandbar. The birds were all in the air again, apparently because a pair of Caspian Terns had swooped in to cause a little trouble. Noting a little Forster’s Tern flitting around the newcomers, I noticed a smaller gull, oddly pale and with a weird mask on its face. Even without my binoculars, I knew I had finally found my bird – my lifer Franklin’s Gull had arrived!

Great success!!! Very nice, how much?! (*insert Borat quote here*!)

Immediately I was on my cell phone, texting fellow birders I knew were in the area. Lounging next to its Laughing brethren, the Franklin’s Gull was a remarkably distinct bird. It’s kind of fat, with a little round head and a tiny bill, not to mention the thick eye-arcs and white diamonds on its primaries. When it ruffled its feathers, you could even see the tail band that’s way narrower than a Laughing’s, and terminating at a pair of white outer tail feathers. Maybe if it had been alone, I would have done a double-take, but together with all the other birds, there’s no mistaking this amazing bird.

It'd walk around, swim, etc, but would not fly so we could see the tail pattern!

Other birders started showing up, hopefully because my texts had gotten through to the guys hanging out at Ebenezer point. We all marveled at the bird, surprised that it had stuck around, congratulating each other on the life, state, county, and at least year bird. On my way home, I found myself wondering who the hell the Franklin’s Gull was named for, and what he had done to deserve such an honorific. Turns out he was a British dude who tried to sail for the Northwest Passage in the mid-1800s, a fool’s errand that ended up killing him. But during some of his early expeditions, he was the first guy to take a specimen of Franklin’s Gull, which he gave to a naturalist to scientifically describe.

What's cooler than a Laughing Gull? ICE COLD! Also, Franklin's Gull.

I guess doing all that deserves getting your own bird. Still, such a mundane name as Franklin’s Gull doesn’t really capture the beauty, subtlety, and presence of the bird I viewed today on a random spit off of a random bridge over Jordan Lake. Perhaps Guy-That-Discovered-Me-Died-of-Hypothermia-in-the-High-Arctic Gull would be more fitting. At the very least, it can’t be less fitting.

I guess Maybe-Got-Cannabalized-By-His-Crew Gull didn't make the cut.

Oh, by the way James – if you’re reading this from college, I borrowed the camera you left behind to get pics of the gull. Sorry, bro! Thanks for letting me get these pics!

The Bros Are Back In Town!

Guess who just got back today? That wild-eyed brother that’d been away. Hadn’t changed, hadn’t much to say, but if those bros wanna bird you better let ‘em!

I mean, is Thin Lizzy not one of the greatest rock bands of all time?!

But that’s all beside the point. What’s not beside the point, however, is that James finally got around to having his Fall Break from college, and that means we had to head out birding! I decided on Falls Lake, a decent enough place for warblers and shorebirds when they’re in season, but unfortunately we were a bit on the late side of migration. Still, upon arriving at the Hickory Hills Boat Ramp, a flock of warblers flitted in and out of the willows along the shore of the lake, illuminated by the morning sun. There were handsome breeding-plumaged warblers like this nice Black-throated Blue Warbler…

Ever since I saw my first one, this has remained one of my absolute favorite birds!

…And, of course, those hallowed confusing fall warblers, like this yellow in the front, white in the back, pale legged, female-type bird. Eh, ordinarily these are hard birds to parse out, but luckily I’d been studying. I immediately pegged this one as a Blackpoll Warbler, even at fifty feet. Not to brag or anything!

Like a boss!

Next we headed across the lake and took the long march out to the mudflats south of Will Suitt Rd. Yeah, it was late, and so the mudflats were empty, but the journey made it totally worth it! Right away, James spotted a pair of birds in the middle of a little bay, and they turned out to be a Greater and Lesser Yellowlegs, which proceeded to line up and provide a sweet comparison shot.

I can't believe I ever thought this species pair made for a tough ID...

Lesser Yellowlegs turned out to be one of the most common birds of the day. Rounding a small peninsula, we found a small group of Killdeer that thankfully bailed without flushing this very confiding Lesser Yellowlegs which kept on feeding as James inched closer. I don’t think it would have flown off even if James ran into the water shouting and arms flailing, but nevertheless, we had to leave it be and continue on our journey.

When it comes to bird photography, there's no such thing as too close.

Our next bird, I feel, is one of the perks of birding in the Piedmont of North Carolina. Making a shortcut through a small grove, James and I came upon a beautiful Red-headed Woodpecker foraging low among the trees. Apparently it was collecting acorns and hoarding them for later, a behavior I’ve only seen in Acorn Woodpeckers out west, but I suppose there’s no reason the Red-headeds can’t do it too!

Merely the third closest I've ever been to one of these guys!

After making it to the flats and striking out on everything except the seemingly enumerable Palm Warblers that now inhabit the low sedges, we set out for that old standby, Ellerbe Creek. Much like Will Suitt, the Ellerbe flats were devoid of any shorebirds, save for a pair of Killdeer that screeched and flushed when a Northern Harrier made a low flyby over the grass. Making our way back, we ran into yet another warbler flock, with more Black-throated Blues, a Black-throated Green or two, and a couple of Northern Parulas.

It’d been a good day, but nothing fantastic – a few replacement shots, but nothing to write home about. So we decided to cross the old railroad bridge just to see what was out there, and upon doing so we ran into our only substantial shorebird flock of the day. Almost ten Stilt Sandpipers and a lone Lesser Yellowlegs foraged along the edge of a small pond. It’s a species that James has seen just once, and one I really can’t get enough of, so it was nice to see them at such a close distance.

Great sandpiper, or the greatest sandpiper?

And that was it. The next few days were cloudy, and James had to go back to school before we could back into the field again.

But that sparrow in the bushes is blasting out my favorite song. The nights are getting colder, it won’t be long… won’t be long ‘til winter comes, and the bros are back in town again!

Species Spotlight #7: Eastern Hognose Snake

As far back as I can remember, I never really wanted to be a herper. (*cue music*) That’s not to say I don’t like reptiles and amphibians, I think they’re really quite cool. Just, sticking my hands under fallen bark and tossing dead logs to manhandle a potentially cantankerous serpent never really appealed to me in the same way that birding did. Regardless, after hanging around a couple of passionate herpers and watching one too many episodes of Animal Planet’s The Jeff Corwin Experience, a perfect opportunity presented itself to me. So I figured, why the hell not?

At the time, James and I were exploring Gate 23 of Duke Forest’s Korstian Division, and after checking out a nice Louisiana Waterthrush down by the bridge, we were making our way back to the car. That’s when James noticed something rustling along the side of the gravel path. At first it looked like a Black Racer, a snake we’d already seen one of that day, but as we got closer it flattened its head, puffed up its body and let out a menacing hissing sound. We had stumbled upon an Eastern Hognose Snake.

Eastern Hognose Snake - Duke Forest, NC

Now, Eastern Hognose Snakes are interesting in that they positively will not bite you. Manhandle them a little and they’ll put on their little hissing display like this one was doing. Manhandle them a lot and they’ll play dead, flipping onto their back and letting their tongue hang out all while releasing a death-like musk. So to me, this was the perfect snake to test my capture technique on.

I pulled the snake out of the brush by its tail, and as I maneuvered it over to the gravel path, it rose up, neck flattened like a cobra’s hood and looking surprisingly intimidating. My natural human instincts took over and I dropped the thing, which I suppose was the snake’s plan all along. It slithered its way off the path and under the pine straw, and we never saw it again. Too bad, I would have liked a better picture of this amazing snake, but let’s just say, herping is not my bag, baby.

#22: Boat-tailed Grackle - Random Rest Stop, Florida

EDITOR'S NOTE: Well folks, we're getting to that point in the birding album where we're beginning to go on trips outside of North Carolina. For the next series of entries, James is going to recount the time he left the States for a far more exotic locale. Enjoy!

When you’ve been birding in one county for long enough, you eventually rack up all the normal birds for the area, and the only ways for you to get new birds are to go after any reported vagrants, or you could just take the easy route and travel. I decided to opt for the second and head down to Nicaragua just over a year ago. While I didn’t go for birding per se, it sure was a nice little bonus. My flight was out of Fort Lauderdale, which meant a nice 14-hour road trip. However, the birds in Florida are almost as foreign as the birds that I would be finding in Nicaragua. 

On the way down, I saw several new birds, including Wood Storks, a Swallow-tailed Kite and what I believe was a Sandhill Crane. However, I only managed to get off one picture, and that was of a very cooperative female Boat-tailed Grackle.

Editor's Note aka Robert: This bird appears to be sick or injured, but not
having accompanied James on his trip, I can't confirm this.

Our road trip route just happened to take us past a rest station that hosted this nice bird, meaning my first life bird of the trip! 

Species Spotlight #6: Black Racer

Here in North Carolina, we’ve got two common species of black snake. One is the Black Rat Snake, like the one I found at the Ellerbe Creek mudflats earlier this year. The other, however, is the smaller, thinner, and lither Black Racer.

When I first started out, I really thought it was impossible to separate these species in the field, but like parsing out peeps and sparrows, all it takes is experience. Now, after having found several individuals of each species, it’s really easy for me to tell which species I’ve got. Among other things, they’ve got totally different head shapes – the Black Racer has a more compact and shovel-like head than the traditionally snake-looking rat snake. Additionally, on a rat snake, even a dark one, you can see darker black stripes that run along its body, where a racer will look totally onyx. And finally, if you manage to flush them, there’s no mistaking. A Black Rat Snake will slither slowly into the undergrowth, but a Black Racer, like its name suggests, will suddenly bolt in a straight line until it’s out of sight.

Black Racer - Durham, NC; 03/22/2011

I found this Black Racer along the old railroad grade that crosses Stagecoach Road in Durham. I wouldn’t have noticed him if he hadn't flushed, making a bee-line through the forest and prompting me to give a rather ill-advised chase through the thorns and briers that riddled the forest floor. Eventually though, he stopped and stared at me as if the prickly bush between us meant he was totally invisible to me. I didn’t want to bother him, and as soon as I got my shot, I let him lie peacefully in the forest. A very cool snake, and one I can’t see often enough!

#21: Belted Kingfisher - Sandy Creek Park, NC

I don’t always see Belted Kingfishers. But when I do, I prefer to visit Sandy Creek to see them. It seems like any body of water should hold these magnificent, raucous creatures, but for some reason I tend to find them reliably at a handful of places, and yet they tend to be completely absent from others. But at Sandy Creek, I can always look forward to hearing the rattling call of a Belted Kingfisher dashing over its ponds, creeks, and trails.

Getting this particular shot was pretty interesting. Usually Belted Kingfishers are quite skittish, bailing before you’re even within eyesight, and never staying in one place for very long. If a Passerine acts this way you have a failsafe – you can always try a bit of playback, and in the right season, it usually works. I’d never tried this with kingfishers, but I saw no reason why it wouldn’t work. After all, kingfishers quite obviously and rather loudly use their calls to communicate, and the call of an outsider should send them over to investigate. I have the feeling there are several unconventional species that playback would attract, such as hummingbirds and shorebirds, but that’s a discussion for another time. On this day at Sandy Creek, we watched a kingfisher fly past as it often would, and I decided it was time for action.

As I pressed the playback button on my fancy phone, the kingfisher didn’t seem to respond at all. In fact, she (as you can tell by the rusty band across the chest) seemed rather repelled by it, quickly flying to the other side of the pond. Soon after, she rattled off her call from over the nearby woods. At this point, it became obvious she’d pulled a complete 180, and was now headed for a snag near us overlooking the big pond. She clamored off her call at the invisible intruder, and James was able to snap this shot of her, at closer range than we’ve ever seen another kingfisher.

Belted Kingfisher - Sandy Creek Park, NC; 07/24/2010

After we had the shot, I turned off the call. We headed back to the parking lot, she flew off over the pond to do whatever it is kingfishers do when birders aren’t around to watch them. To this day, I can always find the kingfishers at Sandy Creek and enjoy them, playback or not. But I’ll always remember that time we had one cackling above our heads as we watched in awe not twenty feet below.

Migrants? We Don't Need No Stinkin' Migrants!

During fall migration, it’s important to pay attention to the weather. The passage of a solid cold front can bring down migrants from places north, and if you’re at the right place at the right time, you can get loads of warblers flitting through the trees, and flocks of shorebirds abounding on the flats. After this latest cold front, Mark K and I decided to plant ourselves in front of a bunch of trees and wait for the warblers to roll on in… but for some reason, it didn’t happen.

We chose Bynum Bridge, a site in Chatham County where you’re right up on top of the trees with all the birds, which would be great if there were any birds to be found. Sure the trees housed Northern Parulas and American Redstarts, and a couple of Red-eyed Vireos doing their best warbler impressions, but nowhere near the huge fallout we were hoping for. A Scarlet Tanager was nice, and close views of an Osprey made the visit worth it, but we had a mission for migrants, and we hoped the New Hope Mudflats on Jordan Lake held what we were looking for.

Sure it's picturesque, but it'd be better if there were shorebirds.

Mark and I met Nick Flanders down at the flats to try and find some shorebirds, but the rain that accompanied the cold front had disastrous results – the mud disappeared, flooded by the rains, and all that remained were grass flats. Normally this would make ideal habitat for, perhaps, some Buff-breasted Sandpipers, but it’s a little late in the year for those guys. Instead, we found a pair of Greater Yellowlegs cavorting in the tall sedges, and as we passed a small stack of sticks atop a puddle of water, Mark spotted what he thought was a frog.

Does that look like a frog to you?

Only it wasn’t a frog – it was a Marsh Wren, a pretty uncommon migrant as far inland as we are and only the second I’ve seen in the Triangle. Now, this particular Marsh Wren was far friendlier than any other I’ve ever encountered, but as anyone who’s ever seen these secretive little guys knows, that’s not really saying much.

Damn bird loved popping up in the shadows!

So we devised a plan. Mark stood on one side of the stick pile, and I stood with the sun to my back, camera in hand and still as a tree. The little guy flitted through the sticks with deft abandon, usually staying hidden but occasionally popping up to check out his surroundings. On one occasion he stood less than a foot from my shoes, but my reflexes weren’t the best. Finally, he hopped atop his wooden dome just long enough for me to snap this shot of him out in the open – a great experience with a great bird!

Cooperative, yes, but not nearly cooperative enough!

On the way back, we found a small migrant flock with our only decent warblers of the day, a non-breeding male Magnolia Warbler and a nice female-type Blackburnian Warbler. I couldn’t photograph them, as warblers that seem to be out in the open in the binocs often manage to hide behind a stick or leaf once the camera comes out. Not having anything else to do, Mark, Nick, and I decided to check out the nearby Morgan Creek mudflats and found the same situation as the one we just left – all grass and no mud! Ten individual Bald Eagles were a nice consolation prize, as was this Pickerel Frog we chased for a dozen yards before finally catching him.

If you zoom in, you can see my reflection in its eye!

Of course, only after stopping to visit the 751 causeway and returning home did I find out that local birder Ali Iyoob had stumbled upon North Carolina’s first reported Violet-green Swallow not a half mile from my apartment. I blazed a trail down to the random pond the swallow had been found at to discover that the bird hadn’t been seen since five minutes after it was first sighted. Oh well. Such is life.