Sapsucker Woods Heron Nest Progress: They Fledged!

From the photo files of 28 July 2009 . . .
Hint: click images for larger versions.

An adult Great Blue stalking along the pond's edge.

We knew it would happen one way or another: eventually, the Great Blue Heron nest would empty out. We all hoped for a successful fledging, but as anyone who observes the natural world knows it doesn't always turn out the way you wished. This was the first nesting attempt by Great Blues in Sapsucker Woods, so it's understandable there was a bit of trepidation underlying our excitement. We tracked the progress ever since the first stick was laid back in April, and now I'm happy to report a successful fledging. As of 9:00 AM this morning the nest was empty after the fourth bird took flight, the other three left ten minutes earlier.

On Tuesday all four, appearing fairly comfortable in their now-tight-fitting nest.

This was to be an update post with some photos I took two days ago, but instead of marking progress the images serve as a reminder. Ah, the memories. Remember when the young were still in the nest? That was cool.

Or is it too early?

Recently the young ones have spent time spreading out among the snag's branches.

More and more they exercised their wings, readying for that first flight.

I suspect the new fledglings will stick around, if I find them on my walks I hope to capture instances of them learning to behave like adult herons. Remember that first meal you had to cook by yourself in your first apartment? They're going through the same thing, but likely without the visit from the fire department.

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Elbow Room

More from the photo files of 17 July 2009 . . .

After taking some time to photograph a pair of fledgling sapsuckers and a fledgie Great Crested Flycatcher, displayed in yesterday's post, I finally made it to the shore of the pond, my initial goal. Now I could spend some time shooting images of the still-occupied heron nest. They're awfully big, you'd think too large to all fit into the nest.

All four juvenile herons are still living at home.

But they do still fit. I'm told that earlier in the week, when storms were passing through with some high winds, they hunkered down while one of the adults crouched on top of them, shielding them from the weather. I kept thinking of some old commercial where the mechanic, holding some monstrosity of a muffler, assures the unbelieving customer, "we'll make it fit."

I get mixed messages from this pose. Some seem so bored they
just sit and stare at one another, others turn their back.
I assume because they're sick of each other.

Reina and I have been watching some Schoolhouse Rock videos on YouTube. If you remember them, they're some of the catchiest tunes around. As my mind is wont to do I started humming one as I watched them stretch and flap their wings, bobbling around one another:

One thing you will discover
When you get next to one another
Is everybody needs some elbow room, elbow room.

It's nice when you're kinda cozy, but
Not when you're tangled nose to nosey, oh,
Everybody needs some elbow, needs a little elbow room.

(Author's note: It's worth watching so it'll be stuck in your head, too. Damn you, catchy songwriters!)

Seems apropos, especially when they exercise their wings. There's not much room to really stretch without whacking a brother or sister, and they often seem to tangle their nosey-noseys.


I'm hoping for a huge coincidence, that one of my irregular walks will coincide with one of the birds leaving the nest for the first time. Really leaving the nest, a full-blown launch off the platform to fly to parts unknown. Or at least to gracefully soar to the pond's edge. Or, more likely and more fun to photograph, clumsily bomb their way to the earth's surface.


There was a false alarm on Monday, 13 July. I was catching up on my work email and I came across two posts announcing one bird had fledged. Turns out the bird had left the nest, fluttered to a different branch or two, but then return to the nest a little while later.

I know it's a tough economy, but c'mon, kids! At one point you gotta strike out on your own!

For more images, and more impressive images, check out Laura Erickson's Flickr site. Laura occasionally posts about the heron family, too.


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The Young Ones, or A July Walk in the Woods

From the photo files from 17 July 2009 . . .

I complain, quite a bit, that I don't get out enough to look at birds, that all my birding is "yard watching." Which is ridiculous! I mean, I work at a world-class ornithological institution that sits in a 220+ acre wildlife sanctuary. You'd think it would be as easy as walking outside.

Well, it is. But I often get wrapped up enough, or fall far behind enough, in work-related "things" and the end of the day arrives before I've made it outside. So much for my time management skills, such that they exist.

Last Friday my camera and my binoculars found their way into my peripheral vision during my working lunch. I didn't hesitate. I grabbed my camera, left my binoculars, and embarked on a brief photo safari.

Yellow-bellied Sapsucker, totem bird of Sapsucker Woods.

The first bird I stumbled across as I entered the woods was the sanctuary's namesake. In the most recent Living Bird John Fitzpatrick writes that exactly one hundred years ago, when Yellow-bellied Sapsuckers were "unheard of in the wide-open, glaciated farmlands around the Finger Lakes," Arthur Allen and Louis Agassiz Fuertes discovered a pair nesting in an isolated woodlot a few miles from Cornell University. Fitz continues, "this was a prize find, because this migratory woodpecker bred mainly in the aspen and birch forests of Canada. This was the first documented breeding in New York's southern tier."

Today, they are common. So common, in fact, the single bird was almost immediately joined by another.

Not as cryptic as a Brown Creeper, but their mottled back
and barred tail camouflage them against the tree trunk.

OK, it's not like the woods are swarming with sapsuckers on every tree. I'd crossed paths with two juvenile birds, likely siblings from the same nest cavity. Though they showed the classic marks you'd expect from a YB Sapsucker -- the face pattern, the white wing patch, the overall mottling - these birds wore more subdued plumage. They were overall darker, brownish rather than black in the facial markings. Also missing were patches of red on the throat and cap, sported by adult males, or solely on the cap (at least to some extent) as an adult female would show. The first bird did have reddish tinging on both the cap and throat, indicating he was a juvenile male. I didn't note any such tinging on the second bird, perhaps a female.

They were moving quickly, the blurriness in my photos wasn't only from hand-shake, and soon left me far behind. I watched as they scrambled around one tree trunk, flew awkwardly to another, scrambled again, fluttered to yet another trunk, then another.

No time to dwell on them, I was already faced with my next bird, one perched not too far off the trail. It sat with its back to me but head craned to the side to watch what I was doing. It was agitated, turning right, then left, then right again, in rapid succession. It was so agitated it bounced, as though it was launching itself into flight but forgetting to release its grip on the branch.


One of my favorites, a Great Crested Flycatcher, and this one appeared to also be a juvenile. I say that based on the broad edging to the primaries and the greater and median wing coverts (your thoughtful analysis welcomed!). What convinced me it was a recent fledgling, later when I blew up the images, was the gape, clearly visible at the back of the mouth, something that young birds show but isn't visible on adults.

Somewhere nearby was a parental flycatcher, which made its presence known through near-constant wheee-eep calls, a sign of excitement. I wondered if the fledgling in front of me was agitated because of me, or if it was feeding off the parent's intruder warning, the avian "Danger, Will Robinson, danger!"

The bird appeared torn between wanting to flee and wanting to stay its ground. Eventually it successfully launched itself deeper into the woods where I lost sight of it; abruptly the parent's panicked calls stopped.

Young ones. That's what July birding is all about here in the southern tier of NY. A brief period where we can watch fledglings explore their new world, with or without their care givers. I started humming the theme song of The Young Ones, a British comedy from the early '80's. While I doubt lyricist Cliff Richard was thinking of birds (but who knows, I'm starting to think everyone in England is a birder to some extent), his lyrics were appropros.

We're young ones,
Darling we're the young ones,
And young ones shouldnt be afraid.

Love, me,
Theres a song to be sung
And the best time is to sing while were young.

To live, love
While the flame is strong,
For we wont be the young ones very long.

Very birdy, yes? Enjoy your summer birding!

UPDATED to announce: if you're interested in nestlings, four to be exact, the trip continues here.

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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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Collecting vs. Reporting

The theme in my life, both at work and on the homefront, is that collecting always outpaces processing. Does anyone find themselves finished with everything and nothing left to work with? At work we're extremely proficient at collecting sound recordings, but we lag behind in our ability to analyze and interpret those recordings (something we're working on).

At home, I'm extremely proficient at collecting experiences with birds and nature along with photos, but I lag way behind in processing and contextualizing them into blogworthy accounts. (Twitter seems like a world I should adopt, as it takes way less than 148 seconds to post a 148 character tweet. Alas, brevity is not my strong suite.).

So, I owe, I owe, I'll be blogging soon again I know. In the meantime, here are a few shots I've collected from the past few weeks. Oh, and check out a guest post I wrote for "Puerto Rico Month" on 10000Birds.com. (Note to self: quite giving away blog posts to other sites . . . ).

Black-capped Chickadees nesting in an American White Birch (Betula papyrifera) snag.

A Grasshopper Sparrow surveys his territory, if he can hold on to it.

A male Common Yellowthroat attempts to attract a mate.

A Dark-eyed Junco taking a break from feeding nestlings.

A Cedar Waxwing keeps a wary eye on an intruder (me).

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The Broad-wings of Spencer Crest

Happy Earth Day! I can't think of a better day to post about a pivotal moment on my birding calendar that occurs each spring.

Spencer Crest Nature Center hosts a breeding pair of one of my favorite raptors, the Broad-winged Hawk. While many birders in the northeast count May as the prima donna of the birding calendar I side with April when Broad-wings, specifically that pair, return to Spencer Crest.

They were the birds I was most hoping to encounter during my visit last Saturday. Sometimes you see them on the drive in, perched on a large snag that stands on the west side of Amelia Pond. Sometimes you hear their high-pitched call as you step out of your car. Sometimes you watch one flush overhead as you walk the trails through the woods, and sometimes you miss them altogether.

About thirty-five minutes into my walk I was just entering the woods when I heard a single cry of a Broad-winged coming from a stand of White Pines. Scanning those tall trees didn't help, as I continued down the trail a bird suddenly flushed and disappeared. Not a great look, but at least one was back. That confirmation is what I was hoping for.

An hour later I finally saw one as I stood at the intersection of two trails, about quarter-mile from where I first heard the hawk. A largish bird, at least compared to the woodpeckers and creepers I'd been watching, landed on a large branch high above me, but in plain view.


I moved quietly, stealthily shooting a series of pictures, at least in my mind. I was probably like a lumbering elephant in the bird's eyes, but it was kind enough to stay for a bit. I checked how much space remained on the card, discovering I only had space for eleven more images. Typical. If I tried to swap out the old card for the empty one in my pocket it would flush. So, with a handful of perched shots already completed I waited patiently for an action shot.


After several minutes it flew, but only a short distance to a neighboring tree. Just what I was hoping for - a chance at a flight shot. Unfortunately, only one of my shots came reasonably close to being in focus. No National Geographic cover, but the details allowing identification are there - the broad, alternating black-and-white banding on the tail, the dark trailing edge on the upper wings. Small consolation considering the head is completely absent.

It only stayed in the new spot for a minute, then bolted to parts unknown. One of the last images before the card filled shows the bird energetically launching from the branch in a crazy, sideways posture. Obviously one that it didn't hold for long.


It is something to see a kettle of these small buteos as they ride thermal to thermal on migration, and seeing a river of them moving over Corpus Christi or another fall hawkwatch must be an unparalleled event. But the two individuals who call Spencer Crest their home is my tipping point in my time line of spring migration - now the floodgates can open. I'm now primed for the vireos, warblers, thrushes, and others to make their appearance.

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The Trickle Continues

Most of Spencer Crest Nature Center's property is wooded, but it's that time of year where sunscreen would have been appropriate for a walk in those woods. It got warm quick, enough so I had stripped down to short-sleeves for most of my walk. That may sound quaint to more-southerly readers but around here it's a "first of the year."

That said, back to my point. In my previous post I mentioned woodpeckers were hammering on nearly every tree, the most numerous was the Yellow-bellied Sapsucker. I readily and happily admit they are my favorite woodpecker - the one I'm most confident in identifying by their unique drumming pattern. They have that slow, uncertain tapping that peters out at the end, exactly like they've run out of energy. "Whew," I imagine they say, "I'm winded."

One of many male Yellow-bellied Sapsucker hammering
on his tree. Each drum garnered a handful of responses -
either auditory or, in some cases, a physical encounter.

Sapsuckers, the only completely migratory woodpecker in the east, are back in force. They were drumming from every direction, vocalizing quite often, several times ending in chases involving both males and females. Exciting to watch, but I'm not sure the birds were enjoying themselves. While that bout of drumming clearly has a pay off, at this point in the season it seemed to attract the physical presence of another sapsucker that chased it away.

Tree trunks that weren't claimed by a woodpecker were used by other species. Can you find the bird in this photograph?

I promise you there is a bird in this picture.
Click the image for a larger version.

If you're not seeing the bird against the tree trunk, here's a clue to give you a search image:

A Brown Creeper, one of many encountered on my walk,
searches for insects while working its way up a trunk.

Brown Creepers called, they sang, from all corners of the forest. I spotted them over and over as they flew from the higher reaches of one tree to the base of the next, then probed for insects as they spiraled their way towards the uppermost branches. For the record, a flushed creeper has never nearly killed me, something I can't say for the equally cryptic woodcock, snipe, or grouse. I can handle a small bird flying a dozen feet (or more) away, a game bird flushing from underfoot is truly heart-stopping. On this trip I only heard Ruffed Grouse booming from a good distance away, and two of them at that. This was one of the very few times I've encountered them at Spencer Crest.

While I was photographing the sapsuckers and creepers I noticed there was only one other species in the immediate area, a pair of White-breasted Nuthatches. They repeatedly visited the backside of a thin tree, I assumed there was a cavity on the other side. I checked but didn't find anything obvious. They appeared agitated so I quietly moved away, shooting a few images as I left. It wasn't until I reviewed the photos I noticed the male was carrying a berry of some sort. Too early for chicks, but I do wonder what type of berry it is.

White-breasted Nuthatch carrying food . . . but to whom?

Here's the full list from my trip, my counts are very conservative. I'll post the results of next weekend's trip, who knows what new migrants will arrive between now and then.

Location: Spencer Crest
Observation date: 4/18/09
Notes: Surprised no Hermit Thrush, RC Kinglet, YR Warbler . . . conditions: 66*F, 40% cloud cover, light breeze, 0 precipitation.
Number of species: 33

Canada Goose 4
Mallard 2
Ruffed Grouse 2
Broad-winged Hawk 1
Mourning Dove 2
Red-bellied Woodpecker 1
Yellow-bellied Sapsucker 6
Downy Woodpecker 5
Northern Flicker 1
Pileated Woodpecker 2
Eastern Phoebe 4
Blue Jay 6
American Crow 1
Tree Swallow 11
Black-capped Chickadee 12
Tufted Titmouse 4
White-breasted Nuthatch 6
Brown Creeper 7
Eastern Bluebird 2
American Robin 8
European Starling 2
Cedar Waxwing 4
Eastern Towhee 3
Fox Sparrow 1
Song Sparrow 14
Dark-eyed Junco (Slate-colored) 8
Northern Cardinal 4
Red-winged Blackbird 14
Common Grackle 10
Brown-headed Cowbird 10
House Finch 2
Pine Siskin 1
American Goldfinch 4

This report was generated automatically by eBird v2 (http://ebird.org)

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They're Trickling In

I did a little research this weekend. Not of the professional type, the kind I spend my weekdays focused on. This research was for a bird walk I'm leading next weekend.

I was asked to lead the bird walk for the annual conference of biology professors from two-year colleges, hosted this year at nearby Corning Community College. Coincidentally, my wife is a biology professor there . . . nepotism at its best! That, and they know I work cheap.

As the radar indicated on Friday night, and as Kenn Kaufman predicted for his corner of Ohio, short-distance migrants that winter in the southern U.S. would continue to arrive, but don't expect an influx of neotropical birds just yet.

Song Sparrow numbers swelled, so much so
that they tied for most abundant species.

Right on target: there were some new arrivals to the party, and birds that showed up earlier in the week were more numerous. Obnoxiously numerous, in some cases. There were a couple of species that I heard no matter where I stood (yeah, I said it, Song Sparrow).

Male Red-winged Blackbirds have been back for a
few weeks but they're still proclaiming territory.

Female Red-winged Blackbirds are a new arrival. Now the males aren't
just staking their turf, they're interested in catching the eye of the fairer sex.

All told, I spent nearly two hours trolling around Spencer Crest Nature Center, my old stomping grounds. Barron and I used to spend many weekend hours, and the occasional weekday morning, peering into every corner of the 220-plus acre property. But when we moved 30 minutes away I adopted a closer location -- our yard - so I haven't been back for any serious birding in a while. It was like revisiting the neighborhood where you grew up, everything looks mostly the same. In those cases you don't recognize any of the people, but happily I recognized all of the residents and spring visitors.

My first Eastern Towhee of the year, one of several that
shouted, "Drink Your Tea" as I passed through scrubby fields.

I tallied 33 species over my mile and half walk which, like any good birding trip, crossed a variety of habitats. I meandered through old fields, upland deciduous forests, wetlands, the open water of Amelia's Pond, my
expectations shifting as I crossed from one to the other. Common Yellowthroat and Field Sparrows not yet in the old field, but Song Sparrows everywhere. Woodpeckers seemed to drum from every tree in the woods, but no tanagers or warblers, not yet. I didn't find a Hairy Woodpecker, but found all other expected species: Red-bellied, Downy, Pileated, Northern Flicker, and Yellow-bellied Sapsucker.

Edges, as they always are, were productive. Between the old field and the woods I came across a song that rang familiar but unidentified. It sounded like a finch (House? Purple?) but not quite. Too sparrow like.

The "red," or eastern, form of the Fox Sparrow. These birds
always come across as a thrush x sparrow hybrid to me.

A-ha! Fox Sparrows are passing through our region now, and one was singing up a storm.

Strike a pose: Fox Sparrows are such cool looking birds, here's a second shot.

There were a couple additional interesting sightings, more from the trip tomorrow.

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A Great Evening

On a whim I stopped at Stewart Park, in Ithaca, on my way home this evening. While the portion that abuts the southern end of Cayuga Lake is mostly open grass with picnic tables and other park-like facilities, there is a patch of bottomland forest that hosts woodland birds. Among those woodland birds are a pair of Great Horned Owls who nest in a tall Cottonwood tree. If you know where to look you can often see the female snoozing while incubating the eggs.

A photo from early March, the female sits inside the crevice - a cozy nesting site.

April in NY is late in their breeding cycle. Recently I was thinking the eggs must have hatched by now, and voila! a post to the local listserve mentioned three chicks could be seen in the cavity. I wasn't in a huge rush to get home so I stopped, hoping to photograph three cute baby owls peering out of the only home they've known.

I found the tree easy enough, but didn't see anything resembling an owl. While photographing some debris at the bottom of the crevice, trying to make it into the back of an owl head, a birder approached and asked if I saw the chick.

"I'm not sure, but I think I'm looking at the back of a head, I think . . . "

"You're going to get a great picture," she cut me off. "Look there."

There was an unmistakable baby Great Horned Owl about 50 meters away from where we stood.

A branchling Great Horned Owl, likely the first day out of the nest.

We didn't stay long, it didn't move much. A slight swivel of its head, a slow blink of the eyes. After a few minutes we backed out of the woods, leaving the owl its privacy. Plus, I had one more stop to make.

Fellow Horseheads residents, bloggers, and nature enthusiasts Jan (of Scattered Seed) and George (of I Love Trucks) happened to drop by Sapsucker Woods this afternoon. We got to meet face-to-face and talk birds, birding, and about a Great Egret they found over the weekend, a good sighting for our area. They let me know it was still around, assuming it's the same bird, but not in the same expansive marsh near Watkins Glen where they originally found it. Now it was near "the Domes," the sports complex owned by Elmira College, which happens to be less than two miles from Horseheads Marsh and less than one mile from our house. Easy enough to stop for a look.

Thanks to their great directions I found the bird almost immediately. My only delay was explaining to the trooper what I was doing and why - the NY State Trooper station is less than a mile from the Domes, too.

Great Egret foraging along Catharine Creek, obscured by branches.

Great Egrets are uncommon in Chemung County, NY, something I base on eBird submissions and my own experience. In the past six years I've only recorded one, a fly-over at Horseheads Marsh in August. (Incidentally, through eBird I discovered there was another sighting, farther south, on that same date - perhaps the same bird winging it's way to an evening roost in Queen Catharine's Marsh near Watkins Glen?)

Regardless, all other observations from our area are late summer or fall sightings: post-breeding dispersers and migrating birds heading south. A spring sighting is certainly interesting, and I suppose the bird will continue on its journey as soon as the weather is conducive to migration.

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Road Kill Birding

On my Blue Highway drive to work this morning I came across a possum in the road. I was driving the way I usually do on these roads: slow, eyes flitting back and forth to both sides of the road, one hand on the wheel, the other clutching binoculars. The possum was doing what it usually does on a road: lying there, unmoving, after an unfortunate meeting with a non-birding car.

The vulture looking the other way, "Nothing to
see here, no carrion in sight. Keep moving . . . ."

The possum was not what first attracted my attention, it was the hulking bird standing in the middle of the road. I slowed to a stop while opening the window. My hopes of watching the bird pluck at a carcass were dashed, but not before I snapped a few shots of a beautiful Turkey Vulture. In my experience it's not often you get that close to one, at least without being vomited on. In the wild they always seem skittish, keeping their distance from observers.

The bird flushed, circled once, and landed in a tangle of branches directly above the possum. Clearly, this bird was not giving up on the possum easily. I captured a few more shots before leaving the bird its morning meal.

The bright red head and yellow bill really
stand out perched on top of the brown body.

As the bird was taking its lap around the field it displayed the diagnostic wing pattern, perhaps the most recognizable field mark of any bird. You can't miss the undersides of the wings as the birds (usually several) circle above you, the leading edge of the wing dark and the trailing edge white, from body to wingtip. Usually those wings aren't flapping, they're held stiff, angled upward from the body in the characteristic dihedral. When it does flap it seems effortless, casual, efficient, and lazy, all at the same time.


This bird reminded me of the wonderment of the feather. Try this: the next time you find a flight feather of any species, preferably one of the long primaries, bend it. It seems stiff, too stiff to flex. It takes a reasonable amount of force to get it to bend, or maybe that just says something about my lack of a weight-lifting routine.



How does the bird bend them so easily? It doesn't seem that the muscles attached to the quill could do that, could the bird do it of its own volition? Or is it something external to the bird, something to do with the flapping motion? So much to learn. And that's the thing about birding, isn't it? There is beauty, wonderment, and a never-ending source of questions to engage you, even watching a bald bird with a red-skinned head stalk a dead animal on the side of the road.

I can't wait for the warblers!

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Spring Progresses at Horseheads Marsh

This post should upload as I'm on my way to the Chemung County courthouse to fulfill my civic duty. Yep, I've been summoned for jury duty so I'll be wrapped up for 30 minutes to one month, depending on the how the jury consultants respond to me.

Saturday was tied up with prepping for, hosting, and recovering from our daughter's fifth birthday party (it went well, thank you, especially when I caught one of the parents photographing the Purple Finches at the feeder instead of the kids inhaling strawberry shortcake).

One of many Song Sparrows bursting with song.

Sunday morning I took an hour-long hike at the Horseheads Marsh, strolling slowly down the Railroad tracks with camera at the ready. It was warm, vaguely misty, and completely overcast. Not great for photography, but decent activity and a few "First of the Year" birds. Expected birds were thick, with Red-winged Blackbirds, Song Sparrows, and American Robins serenading from all directions.

One of many (many, many) Red-winged
Blackbirds, staking his territory.

Several Northern Mockingbirds and a pair of American Kestrels made appearances. A few new waterfowl joined the Canada geese and Mallards, including Wood Ducks, Ring-necked Ducks, and both Blue- and Green-winged Teal. The next pool hosted American Wigeon and Hooded Mergansers, along with nearly two dozen Tree Swallows flitting across the water's surface.

Two pair of Wood Ducks flushed as soon as I arrived, circled
for several minutes, before settling in a distant pool.

Last week it was a snipe, this week a somewhat mystery bird took off from the vegetation a few feet off of the tracks. It didn't vocalize, my impression was it was a Green Heron-sized bird, but not a Green Heron. I shot photos instead of observing it, click for larger images.

Wading bird taking flight. Note the clear difference
between the darker wing tips and the paler inner wings.

I'm fairly sure it's an American Bittern, but I wonder
about the darkness on the back - it shows up pretty
dusky in these images. Possible Least Bittern?

I'm reasonably sure it's an American Bittern, which wouldn't be overly unexpected, but the color of the back seems darker than it should be. The size seemed small, too. Then again, Least Bitterns aren't expected for another month or so. American Bitterns, and Green Herons for that matter, aren't expected until mid-April, though Bull's Birds of New York State observes that "early arrivals the last week of March have occasionally been reported."

Thoughts appreciated!


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