The Usual Suspects, Part I

Now that we’ve started a photo gallery here at the Birding Bros., I’ve noticed it’s got some pretty substantial holes, birds that should be present and accounted for but aren’t. For the most part, it’s because they’re just so common that we’ve already had amazing point-blank looks that we’ll never be able to top. So this post aims to showcase those birds that are impossible to miss while birding in central North Carolina. These are The Usual Suspects.

Anywhere you go, the first sound you hear is almost certainly the incessant raspy din of Carolina Chickadees and Tufted Titmice. For whatever reason, these are some of the most common birds on the East Coast, and they feel the need to call at anything that seems remotely abnormal, be it an owl, a snake, or nothing at all.

Lucky for us, these southern chickadees sing a lot prettier than their Black-capped cousins!

Lucky for us birders, we can put this to use. By imitating the rasping alarm call of these Parids, a technique called “pishing”, we can occasionally get the birds going, and sometimes a better bird will pop out to see what all the commotion’s about. In the fall, when warblers associate with large flocks of these “chickamice,” it’s a great way to figure out just who’s migrating through on a given day.

Believe it or not, they have some of the most varied songs in the bird world. I'm always astounded
with the sounds they come up with!

Now, I’ve heard people say that we’ve got it pretty good bird-wise here in the southeast. I don’t really know what they’re talking about, because none of the birds we’ve got can truly compensate for the pain of a 98-degree day with 100% humidity. But, I suppose we do have birds that are far more common here than in other parts of the country. For example, as long as there’s a pine tree in eyesight, you’re sure to hear the pleasant trill of the Pine Warbler, the only warbler species that sticks around all year long.

During most of the year, they stick to the treetops; but during the winter, it's not uncommon
 to see them on the ground feeding with a mixed flock.

Another common resident of our southeastern pine forests is the Brown-headed Nuthatch, a bird that I honestly take for granted. They just don’t get these pint-sized birds in other parts of the United States, but around here they’re a dime a dozen, and extremely entertaining to boot. You’d be hard pressed to watch a bird feeder for five minutes before hearing their squeaky-toy call and watching one swoop in for a seed or two.

I once found one of their nest when I looked into a hole and one flew out into my face!

Of course this all hardly scratches the surface of our common bird life, so we’ll have a continuation of this article next week. Until then, the Birding Bros. are going to head down to Carolina Beach and hopefully pick up some sweet coastal species, including a lifer or two if all goes well. We’ll let you know how it goes!

Sunday Spain Bird of the Week #1: Common Kestrel

ROBERT'S NOTE: Early last year, James got to visit Spain as part of his study abroad program, and boy did he see some great birds! So, every week he's decided to write up a different European species as part of an ongoing series we're calling the Sunday Spain Spectacular: Los Aves del Espagna - The Birds of Spain! ... it's a working title.

In January of 2011 I was fortunate enough to spend a semester abroad in the awesome Andalucían city of Seville. While it was an absolutely amazing experience, getting to travel through Europe and experiencing an incredible city, it also provided with some pretty sweet birding. Spain is in a bit of a butter zone for birds, getting both African species, common European species and some really cool migrants. In the four months that I was abroad I managed to get 115 life birds, including 58 within the extremely urban city of Seville. The first bird I saw was a Common Kestrel, which flew about in the fairly large city parkland, Parque Maria Luisa. 

Unfortunately this distant look from atop some sort of giant scaffolding was the best picture I ever got of this awesome bird, and it became a bit of a nemesis. I certainly had my chances. I may have gotten another shot of a bird circling the massive Seville Cathedral, but it is impossible to determine whether it is a Common Kestrel or the threatened Lesser Kestrel. Luckily I got a much better shot the Lesser Kestrel a few weeks later, but we’ll get there. 

I had a third chance when I encountered a Common Kestrel feeding on the ground in the Parque Alamillo. Unfortunately he was facing away from me and as I moved to get a good shot, that arch-nemesis of birders, a runner, scared him off. This left me out of luck, and the distant shot you see at the top of the page is the best one I got of the Common Kestrel. Don’t worry though, almost all of the other 114 bird pictures are a lot better! I swear!

  

Man, what a cool bird! The jealousy doesn't stop there - check back every week for a new Spanish bird and more awesome European birding adventures!

A Warbler-iffic Day

After Wednesday’s intense storms, I woke up yesterday morning to a cloudless sky and sun shining through my windows. I have to admit I was mostly asleep when James called me, but the prospect of birding on this gorgeous day got me out and about, and we headed for Mason Farm. The day started out slowly, with little singing and even less showing. A pair of beautiful Prothonotary Warblers positively glowed in the early morning light, giving me my best look at the species this year.

Apparently they call them "swamp canaries" across much of the south - not a great name, but not inaccurate either.

A short walk through the woods gave us great looks at an Ovenbird catching food for its young, but we didn’t see anything great until the next field over. While we surveyed the five or so Indigo Buntings singing in the field, James saw one that seemed quite a bit larger, and when I put my binocs on it, I saw a brilliant Blue Grosbeak chilling in some low hanging brambles. We tried to get it closer, but they’re not really the type to stick around and suffer humans, so we had to move on.

Another species we haven't yet gotten that perfect shot of... still working on it!

Just around the corner, James noticed a small bird flitting through the braches that hung over the trail. I couldn’t tell what it was at first, but upon looking through my binoculars I saw a beautiful male Canada Warbler making his way through the trees, presumably for small insects and other prey. Every once in a while, he’d give snippets from his song, and I didn’t realize what it was at first. I sat there for almost five minutes trying to figure out what this odd song was before finally realizing it was the Canada Warbler singing overhead.

My first in the Triangle for spring, and a totally unexpected bird this time of year.

Back along the canal, we tried to find migrant warblers, and though American Redstarts and White-eyed Vireos put on good shows, we couldn’t find what we were looking for. We walked back and forth for a good half hour, and during one pass we realized there was a snake sitting in the path. It seemed obvious, but I don’t know how we missed it before. It froze while James shot this picture, but bolted as soon as I made the move to catch it. Typical Black Racer behavior.

Apparently I'm still not a fast enough herper to catch a Black Racer, which is a huge disappointment to me.

While the Black Racer was exciting, we had birds to see. James noticed an odd bird with a yellow belly flitting through a nearby tulip poplar, and I tried to get on it, but every time I put my glass up the bird disappeared deeper into the foliage. Finally, I got the briefest of glimpses, and I got my one and only look at a breeding-plumaged Magnolia Warbler. Knowing its identity, we played the song to draw it in, but it didn’t respond – instead, randomly, this Common Yellowthroat flew in and gave us a hell of a show.

Responds to Magnolia song, ignores Yellowthroat calls - that's what I'd call a Scumbag Yellowthroat!

Still, a Magnolia Warbler would have been a lifer for James, so we moved up and down the path to try and get a look at it. Every once in a while we’d see something flitting, just briefly, and we’d look again and it was gone. It didn’t help that every other bird decided to come out into the open while we were searching, and we ended up with great looks at American Redstart and White-eyed Vireo. But we didn’t have our target. Back at home, James looked through his pictures, and realized that one of them did indeed show a blurry but identifiable shot of the bird we were searching for – his lifer Magnolia Warbler!

Oh Maggie we couldn't have tried any more... you're so hard to photograph!

It’s a great-looking bird by anybody’s standards, but it’s starting to get late in the year. Pretty soon our migrants will be gone, and I’ll have to spend all summer trying to get that one perfect shot of an Indigo Bunting or Prairie Warbler. For now, I’ll enjoy the migrants I have. James is enjoying them too, and as soon as he got home, he emailed me some shots of a bird he found flitting around our feeders.

Not a great pic, but it's enough to make me suuuper jealous!

Turns out, it’s a Worm-eating Warbler, a lifer for James, and a bird I’ve never seen in Durham county! I’m going to try and pick it up tomorrow, and hopefully it’ll stick around, but I’m not feeling too confident. I have terrible luck with these bird, but the thought of a new county bird would get me going any day of the week. Hopefully it’ll end up in my favor!

Nature on the Fly

Birding during the summer months is difficult, especially when one of us has a life list entirely determined by photography. This means that not only do we have to find birds, but we’ve got to find them during the day and in decent light. So when the weatherman screwed up the stormy forecast and the sun shone bright through my bedroom window yesterday morning, James gave me a call and we headed out to see what we could find.

Unfortunately, with the good weather came poor birding. Along the trail, we couldn’t find many warblers besides American Redstarts and Black-throated Blues, and even they didn’t want to come close enough for some pictures. Thankfully, a fast-moving raptor and a high-pitched screech made me look to the sky, where we found two circling Broad-winged Hawks. This is an odd species for me in that I’ve heard them call, and I’ve seen them, but never have I experienced both at the same time. The hawks flew fast, making photography difficult, but it was super cool to finally see this migrant in the Triangle.

I remember learning the call of a Broad-winged Hawk in college, but this is the first time
I've really heard it well in the field.

Checking the canal portion of the trail one last time, we came upon this friendly American Redstart hopping through the willows. When I say friendly, I mean it ventured pretty close to us, but like most warblers it seemed to stay behind a veil of leaves the whole time. Still, every once and a while it would pop out in the open and sing its song, allowing James to get some decent shots. Not quite the perfect shot we’re looking for, but we’ll keep at it!

How hard is it to sing out in the open? I mean, COME ON!

Other than that the birding at Mason Farm was unremarkable, and we headed home. That’s when Ali called and said he wanted to go herping, and I said, well, why not? James had to go home, so Ali and I headed for Duke Forest to do a little flipping. We didn’t find much, save for an active Copperhead that darted off as soon as we flipped his board. But under a random piece of tin next to an old barn, Ali spotted a small snake that piqued his interest, and he grabbed it to examine it closer.

At the time I took this photo, I'd narrowed it down to "snake sp."... still a long way to go!

It was a small snake, brown on top and pale underneath. This clearly marks it as an earth snake, but as there are several species around here, we had to be sure which one. Turning his binoculars the wrong way ‘round, we were able to use them as field glasses and check out the scaling, which turned out to be unkeeled. That, plus the random dark spots and rounded nose meant we’d found a sweet little Smooth Earth Snake, a lifer for the both of us.

They say this snake is hard to find; I wouldn't know. I tend to find such snakes rather easily!

Since I started herping earlier this year, I’ve seen this Smooth Earth Snake, countless Copperheads, my fair share of Mole Kingsnakes, and even a Pigmy Rattlesnake; but for some reason I’ve never been able to photograph the common Brown Snake, and I’m starting to think there’s something wrong with me. My herping career has been unorthodox thus far, and I’d like to keep it that way. I’d love to get rid of that nemesis herp once and for all, but for now, I’ll take all the hard-to-find snakes I can get!  

Birding Has Never Been So Black and White

Ever since James got home from college, I’ve been promising him migrant lifers. It shouldn’t be too hard – after all, I’m hearing reports from all across the state with great warbler lists, but for some reason all I can muster is a Black-throated Blue here and a Chestnut-sided there. So, yesterday morning, we made the decision to rectify our previous mistakes and go after something sure-fire. As we rounded the turn at Mapleview Farms, I could see a large flock of birds rising from the tall grass and circling back down again.

That awkward moment when you try and exit the car before it's stopped moving...

Success! I’d finally found James his lifer Bobolinks, a species of blackbird that only seems to grace our state about one week a year before heading for northern climes. Unfortunately, the Bobolinks kept their distance, and refused to venture closer than a few hundred feet. Although I was momentarily distracted by a Northern Waterthrush sounding like a Yellow Warbler doing a Lauren Bacall impression, and a pair of mating Orchard Orioles, the allure of Bobolinks and their astromech-like song kept me totally engrossed.

Between the weird light and the wheat, this shot looks like a painting - but no filters were used!

Because we’d found the Bobolinks so quickly, we had a couple hours to kill. So, we headed to Mason Farm because… why not? James was particularly interested because he’d heard there’d been tons of a certain zebra-striped warbler reported recently, and it’s kind of a nemesis bird for him. Alas, upon arrival, we couldn’t turn up much, although singing Scarlet Tanagers and Baltimore Orioles were pretty cool. True to form, the uber-friendly Yellow-breasted Chat was back at his post, although in much worse light this time.

I can't believe it's gotten to the point where I can be picky about my chat shots!

Along the way, we met a pair of Dutch birders, one of whom I’d met several years prior, and distinctly remembered showing his lifer Black-throated Blue Warbler. It was really cool to show them relatively common species like Northern Waterthrush and Prairie Warbler and have them truly appreciate the birds we take for granted. I’m sure I’ll feel the same way next time I’m in Europe and gush when somebody shows me a Chaffinch or White Wagtail. While these days I force the harsh calls of Summer Tanagers into the deep recesses of my subconscious so I can listen for something more interesting, the foreign birders made a point of tracking it down and watching it in all its crimson beauty.

That's not to say I don't like Summer Tanagers, it's just they're incredibly common during the
warmer months of the year... dang, what're those called again...

After a birding with them for a bit, we split up so that James and I could focus on the more productive canal section of the trail, turning up things like Acadian Flycatcher and Blue Grosbeak. When we met up again on the other side, I asked them if they’d seen anything, and they replied positively: a Black-and-white Warbler, just after we parted ways. This is, of course, James’s number one nemesis bird, so together we headed way back on the other side of the trail to see if it still remained. That’s when I heard a distinctive squeaky undulating call coming from the stand of trees just in front of us. A nemesis awaits!

Next to the branch with the leaves on it. No, the other branch! No, wrong tree!

We ran over to the sound, and it kept calling right above us. I couldn’t see it, and James was getting frustrated – clearly there were too many leaves between us and the warbler. That’s when one of the Dutchmen shouted “I’ve got it!” and pointed it out, sitting in the crook of a branch invisible from underneath. Unlike its normal behavior, the Black-and-white Warbler sat there preening for several minutes, occasionally pausing to give a couple squeaks, but never crawling along the branches like they usually do.

Sweet relief! This is a bird James has wanted pretty much since he started birding.

James felt elated and thanked the birders for their help. “It’s funny,” one of them said in response. “After all the new birds people have shown us here, this is the first time I’ve shown an American his life bird!” Truer words were never spoken, and again we parted ways so they could bird their way back to their car.

We drove past them on the way out, and asked again if they’d seen anything. “A Wilson’s Warbler,” they said. A potential lifer for me, but we could never relocate it. I’m still reeling from missing that bird. Man, those guys are good!

The Public Lives of Private Birds

Some birds are just harder to see than others. Ask anyone who’s tromped through a marsh to find Yellow Rails, or stared intently at a thick bush to see if a Connecticut Warbler will pop out. Most of the time the views you do get are fleeting, but when you finally get that close-up, out-in-the open look, the effort it took to finally see the bird is totally worth it.

For the past couple weeks or so now, I’ve had the pleasure of watching a pair of Gray Catbirds building a nest in the bush outside my apartment’s window. Every catbird I’ve ever seen has been skittish, and refused to venture far from its leafy bastion. But because they can’t see me watching through the window, they’ve become totally comfortable running back and forth along the porch rail as they gather nesting material, hunt for insects, and occasionally, mate. The other day, I sat on the couch just outside the window with my camera poised so that when one of the birds would sit still for a second, I would be ready. After a couple failed attempts, I finally got my shot – and an amazing look at a Gray Catbird!

I wake up every morning to the sound of the male singing outside my window. There are worse ways to start the day.

Now that James is back in town, we’ve been out birding a couple times. Unfortunately, we haven’t been graced with many migrant warblers, but our breeders are out there belting out their songs. American Redstarts usually do this from a thick canopy, and they’re hard to find out in the open. I found this male flitting through the willows next to the canal, and he just wouldn’t sit still!

It's been a long time, but my arch-nemesis has once again reared his ugly head. Damn you, Stick-Through-the-Face!

Even without willow leaves through his face, I could never get my camera up in time to catch him. I was just about to give up when he shot down to eyelevel just a few yards away and started singing. This was my chance – time to take the shot! Of course, the autofocus messed up, and instead decided that focusing on the multitude of nearby foliage was definitely the right move.

No camera, you're right, you know what to focus on better than I do. Keep doing a wonderful job! /sarcasm

I was beginning to get frustrated and thought about just leaving him to do his thing, but every time I turned to leave he kept wandering closer. Out of sheer happenstance, I’d been following him in the viewfinder when he alighted on a branch out in the open, and I took my shot. This time, the variables aligned and I finally got him in focus!

But of course he chose this moment to look the wrong direction. Always room for improvement!

Continuing down the fields, I found my spotted my first Blue Grosbeaks of the year, including a beautiful male that decided to fly off when I got close. Nearby, I saw a Prairie Warbler trilling away from the tops of short trees that punctuated the short grass. In the background, I could hear the cacophonous din that always seems to permeate this type of open habitat – the constant song of the ultimate hidden bird, a Yellow-breasted Chat.

One of these days I'll get that perfect Blue Grosbreak shot... but it is not this day!

As cool as they are, I kind of hate Yellow-breasted Chats. They’re a really weird, beautiful warbler, but for whatever reason I’ve never been able to get one out in the open less than a hundred feet away, and if one does manage to venture closer, it’s doubtless behind several yards of dense vegetation. I decided to try and play a chat call, to see what it would do. I’ve done this countless times before, and each time the bird seems to move farther off, but that day the unexpected happened. As soon as it heard the call, the Yellow-breasted Chat bounded out of the tree it was in with that odd, undulating display flight they do, and I watched as it circled around the two of us and landed out in the open, just twenty feet away.

Never again will I instinctively use playback every time I hear a chat sing!

I’ve never seen a chat that close up before, and I doubt I ever will again. Seeing a bird as secretive as this and being able to drink in these point-blank views, it’s almost as good as getting my lifer Yellow-breasted Chat all over again, except that this time, my lifer memory won’t be of some bird dashing between stands of trees off in the distance. No, instead I’ll always remember that one bold chat who couldn’t wait to show off for my brother and me that one day at Mason Farm.

And Now For Something Completely Different

A couple weeks ago, I found myself at Mason Farm looking for migrants. I heard Prairie Warblers singing in the fields and Summer Tanager calling from the trees, but I couldn’t find the truly migrant species I was looking for. On a whim, I decided to check out the back side of the large pond. Much to my delight, I found good numbers of Spotted and Solitary Sandpipers probing the mud there.

"Solitary" my ass - there were at least eight or ten of these guys swarming the mudflats!

Some of the Solitaries even started a mating dance, splaying out their tail feathers and performing intricate footwork by instinct. But that wasn’t the most exciting part about the place, nor was the Green Heron I flushed from my feet. Looking out across the flats, I noticed a bird flying and perching on whatever branch it could find sticking out of the mud.

Are you lookin' at me? Are you lookin' at me? There's no one else here, you must be lookin' at me!

It honestly threw me for a loop – at first, it was like nothing I’d seen before, but then logic set in. The bird, for whatever reason, was missing its head feathers. I’m used to this in Northern Cardinals, whose baldness causes them to look like that one Skeksis from The Dark Crystal. But this bird was entirely different from a cardinal, and looking past the odd head, I noticed it looked exactly like an Eastern Phoebe – just, of course, without the crest.

As a matter of fact, no facial feathers of any kind! Makes for a totally weird-lookin' bird...

This bird is positively amazing, and not simply because it looks different from a normal phoebe. Check out how long the bill looks – were the bird covered in feathers, it would seem much much shorter. We take for granted that birds, like this phoebe, are perfectly adapted for flight, and part of that means minimizing all other tissue in the body. Skin, muscles, and beak are extremely reduced in Passerines, and the rest – well that’s, as they say, light as a feather.

As much as I’m looking for rare warblers or flycatchers this migration, I think I’m going to chalk this bird as a lifer. Not my life bird per se, but my lifer experience with something so totally unexpected that it makes me throw out everything I know about bird identification and see it for what it really was – an oddly beautiful Eastern Phoebe.