Typical Songbird Photograph: Identity Revealed

The Hawthorn Orchard, where I took that poor-quality photograph in last week's teaser post, is a remarkable patch during spring migration. Hawthorn flowers bring in the insects, which bring in the migrating birds. And in mid-late May there are a lot of flowering Hawthorns, a lot of insects, and therefore a lot of songbirds. Most hawthorns in the orchard are less than 30 feet tall, many only 15 - 20 feet high. The best way to avoid "warbler neck"? Don't look up, look horizontal! This is where you go for paralyzing looks at warblers that are often difficult to lay glass on - Bay-breasted, Blackburnian, Wilson's, Tennessee, and many, many more.

Luckily, the photo I presented was the last in the series. While trolling through the shrubby Hawthorns I successfully tracked down a lively weeta-weeta-weetsee.


The singer was a very handsome male Magnolia Warbler, a species Alexander Wilson originally called "Black-and-Yellow Warbler" when he collected one from a Magnolia tree in 1810. That was unfortunate, and not just for the individual he shot: he selected "magnolia" as the scientific name, Dendroica magnolia. Unfortunately, magnolia trees are not a big part of this species life history. These birds like dense, young growth; nests are usually in a conifer.

No matter, a rose by any other name still looks stunning. I had a reasonable amount of time to witness him flitting among the branches of a Hawthorn, maybe 20 feet from me. Eventually I had the presence of mind to drop the binoculars and raise the camera, capturing some foraging behavior.

Classic Magnolia Warbler foraging, scanning and probing the
undersides of leaves from below. Note the undertail pattern, as the
white patch towards the body and wide, dark band across the tips
are a very useful diagnostic feature for identifying tail-only birds.

Magnolia Warblers, or "Maggies" if you're in the hip birding crowd (a group who must all have Rod Stewart's "Maggie May" running through their head whenever someone finds one), feed primarily on caterpillars and a variety of other tree-dwelling organisms: leaf beetles, weevils, leafhoppers, spiders. This one thoroughly scanned the leaves, striking at unseen (to me) items. While they typically focus on the undersides of leaves and conifer needles, this one was checking every surface. Sometimes twice.

Any morning where you stumble across a beauty like this is an unequivocal successful trip. Enjoy this sequence of Maggie foraging - he was trying every leaf, bud, nook, and cranny. As always, click on the images for larger versions.

"Hullo, what's this?"

"Ah, yes, this looks promising indeed."

Smacks mandibles, munch, munch

"Blechh! Oooh, what's up here?"

This went on for a few minutes, until I got the parting shot. Now do you see a Maggie?

There is a bird in there, promise.
Click on the image for a larger version.

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Photo Files: Typical Songbird Photograph

From the photo files of 19 May 2009 . . .

This spring had two general highlights: I got out birding more often than the past few migrations, and I spent much more time photographing what I saw.

Well, let's be honest: trying to photograph what I saw. Here's a typical image I captured.

There is a bird in there, promise. Click on the image for a larger version.

I'm pretty sure it's not just me, I suspect many avian photographers wind up with high percentage of "missed" shots. Huh, upon a very brief further reflection I actually have two categories of "missed," those non-photos where I never even raised the camera before the moment disappeared, and those where I shot a picture but missed the subject.

This year I've seen the number of "Damn, wished I'd gotten the camera on that!" instances slowly decrease while the "Damn, I almost had it!" instances slowly increase. I take that to be a good thing in my development as a photographer (pun absolutely intended).

Hopefully I'll continue sliding towards a place where I'll get recognizable images more often than not, but the more-experienced photogs please let me know: is that even a reasonable goal? Anyway, until that day, I'll continue to take my photographic lemons and turn them into blog-post lemonade: identity quizzes!

So, here's another one. Any thoughts on what this fleeing bird might be? Image is from Ithaca, NY on May 19, 2009. For what it's worth, it's from the "Hawthorn Orchard," a wooded patch of dense Hawthorns some 15 - 30 feet tall.

Answer, with better images, coming shortly.

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Great Blue Heron: Gone Fishin'

Yesterday I posted a teaser, for which I apologize. I'm no fan of cliff-hangers. I want resolution now, I don't want to carry it around for a week, something conditioned by those one-hour CSI, Law&Order, and Desperate Housewives shows. That said, I'm glad you're back to see how the Great Blue Heron went from "I'd like a fish" to "I got one!"

Heron sightings are abundant this spring in Sapsucker Woods, you only need to look at the nest they built to find one. During, or shortly after, their nest construction I found one perched on a downed log near the middle of the pond. Hoping to photograph the bird in flight, maybe delivering a stick back to the nest, I set up the camera and waited. I didn't catch a return to the nest sequence, but watch the embedded slideshow below (man, I hope this works) to watch what I captured. You can also visit the web album to view the (larger) still images.





If that worked, you will have witnessed a couple of events I found interesting. First, I won the staring contest. You can see in the first slide the intense glaring I received for about a half-minute, and then the moment of victory (second slide) when the bird was distracted by something in the water. But I had no time to savor the moment.

The second event relates to heron foraging behavior. As Great Blues are fairly common almost anywhere there's water, and they are such large, easily observable birds, I'm guessing most everyone has watched one snag a prey item at one point or another. If I'm right, you're familiar with the methodical stalking as they patiently step their way through the water or across a field, leaning forward as they sight a fish, amphibian, reptile, mammal, bird - they're really not that picky.

The actual capture takes but a second. A rapid thrust of the neck and head, and voila! Before you can blink they've got something tightly squeezed between their mandibles.

What I've never seen was a heron jump in the water from dry land, or floating log, after something, and almost fully submerge below the surface. But this one did, and, best of all, it came up with a snack. I particularly like the image of the bird returning its gaze towards me with the, "That's right, homeclown, I got the fish!"

It's always satisfying to witness a successful hunt, the food web in action, especially when it includes a new method of food capture. At least, this was a new method to me, perhaps you've seen this before?

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Photo Files: Great Blue Heron, With Snack

From the photo files of 12 May 2009 . . .

Great Blue Heron after capturing a snack.
Click on the photo for a larger image.

In early May, after/during the construction of the Great Blue Heron nest at Sapsucker Woods, I found one of the herons standing quietly, taking in its surroundings. As I sat and watched, also quietly, it captured a relatively small fish. I was lucky enough to capture the sequence, which ended with the bird flying off to the opposite shore where I lost track of it.

Next up: the full fishing sequence.

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First Day of Spring at Horseheads Marsh

There's a quiz bird below!

I drive by the Horseheads Marsh every day I head to Ithaca for work. It's an easy-in, easy-out spot that attracts a decent variety of water, land, and marsh birds, from warblers and sparrows to rails and shorebirds to waterfowl and gulls. It's small, the daily numbers and diversity don't stack up to large, expansive marshes (like Montezuma NWR), but over a season it produces a decent list of species, especially for a site bounded by unsuitable habitat.

If the conditions are right, meaning if there's enough light and there are no hunters around, it's a regular pause on my commute for a quick stationary count. Typically I simply scope the pools and cattails from a central "hump" that overlooks the northern part of marsh. Occasionally I'll walk south along the railroad tracks that run through the middle of the marsh, especially if I'm thinking more about photographing birds and less about just watching.

A reasonable walking path, though you really have to watch your step.
This shot doesn't betray that the cattails on either side of the
tracks are a narrow strip, giving way to large, open pools of water.

As I drove by Friday, the first day of spring, I was compelled to stop. Bright and sunny conditions, not another soul present, a burning desire to see what spring birds might have arrived following a long day (week, actually) of discussions and presentations at work . . . if ever there was a day for a stop, this was it. I had my camera so I was off down the railroad tracks.

Horned Grebe - not a bad first bird for the stop.

I left the binoculars and scope in the car, expecting to primarily photograph whatever I came across. Standing on the "hump" I scanned the open water. First bird: a lone Horned Grebe. Oftentimes waterfowl take flight when they notice someone peering at them, but this bird wasn't so antsy.

A pair of Canada geese wing their way into the northern-most pool.

Canada geese, as you might expect, are resident as long as the water is exposed. They're gone in the winter months when all water is frozen solid, but I start seeing them perched on the ice in late February. They commute during these weeks, flying in from either the Chemung River, Seneca Lake, or perhaps agricultural fields in the area until mid-March when the ice has disappeared. Several pairs often nest on the railroad tracks, making passage a gamble - sometimes they yield the right of way, sometimes you do.


In direct opposition to the Horned Grebe, ducks tend to be very wary. They often burst into flight just before you spot them, circle the marsh repeatedly, eventually landing in a distant pool. I expected Ring-necked Ducks since they are usually the most numerous during spring migration. Perhaps I'd see a Wood Duck or two stealthily paddling among the cattails, maybe a few Hooded Mergansers. Not today, Mallards were the only ducks I found.

One shorebird flushed from nearly beneath my feet, a current quiz bird. No one's identified it yet, so I'm waiting to post the answer another day or two. Check my earlier post to weigh in - and check out the image, I'm pretty proud of it. It came out much better than I anticipated.

And the new quiz bird, promised earlier, is below. This bird skulked along in the vegetation, rarely allowing a satisfactory view. Finally it perched on a Multiflora rose where I "shot" it. I did get better, more-identifiable images which I'll post in the next day or two.

A headless passerine: who am I?

Post your best guesses, or laboriously deduced conclusions, in the comments.

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Freeze Frame!

"This freeze frame moment can't be wrong" goes the song. Right. As anyone who's tried to capture something that moves on film (or other media), it's hard to get a decent finished product. Couple that with being on the low end of the photography learning curve, then throw in a subject that does nothing but try not to be seen and you've got a recipe for clogging up your hard drive with pretty shoddy pictures. A lot of shoddy pictures.

At one point I decided to quit frustrating myself with little, skulky, dickey birds that hang out in the low light of a forest and go for big, well-lit, sedentary birds. That turns out to be just as frustrating, as my recent collection of hawk photos demonstrates.

A Red-tailed Hawk doing what it does best: perching
above an open field, but defying a decent photograph.

Driving around with the camera set to go is a great idea. If I see something perched alongside the road, like a raptor, I'm ready to pull over and "shoot" the bird. I figure my pulling over on a busy road is no more annoying than people pulled over talking on their phones (credit where it's due: at least they pulled over!).

This Red-tail was perched relatively close to a
cloverleaf interchange, I could see it from the highway
. . . but as soon as I aim, vamanos!

That happens way more than I expected. I mean, members of the genus Buteo are notorious sit-and-wait predators. They just sit and wait, you can look at them all day long. Except when you've got a lens that starts to move. Then, they're off!

Not moments before this bird was perched on
a road-side tree limb. At least I captured
one identifiable field mark!

Every so often on cooperates and sits still while you're re-setting your camera, which conveniently lost all of the default settings you programmed. OK, shutter-speed priority, check! ISO 80, check! Continuous shooting, check! Spot-meter . .. is the bird still there? Good! Spot-metering, check! Now, where can I go where those branches aren't in the way??

Well, clearly a Red-tail, and almost a nice shot.
Why do trees have so many tiny branches?

Solution: find a tree without any branches! Fence posts and telephone poles, it turns out, aren't necessarily an eyesore, as long as a eye-catching bird is perched on top.

Ahh, a close, non-flitty individual that's not obstructed
by branches. Now I remember why I keep trying!

Yes, sometimes it does work out. I can't wait to move on to the next group . . . maybe ducks!

• Information about birds can be found at All About Birds | Bird Guide
• Post title credit: Freeze Frame (1981), J. Geils Band.
• All images © Mike Powers.