Island Beach SP 3/27--Lesser Yellowlegs, Laughing Gull, Forster's Tern, Little Blue Heron, Snowy Egret

Laughing Gull, Marina

The theme for today's excursion to Island Beach SP was "Birds You're Going to See, But Let's See Them, Already!" Laughing Gull, for example. Reports started to trickle in earlier in the month when they were still flagged as 'rare' but now they're no big deal. However, the first one is always welcome and my first of the year flying over Barnegat Bay, was pointed out to me by Steve as we stood at the end of Reed's Road. 

Lesser Yellowlegs (left), Greater Yellowlegs, Spizzle

We stayed in touch by text as we explored the bayside trails. I headed down to Spizzle Creek because I wanted to find the Tricolored Heron reported there of late. I thought I saw it in the marsh, sticking it's head out of the high grass, but something about it didn't strike me as correct. Then, I couldn't refind it, so I was a little disappointed. Walking on the blind trail I came across a small flock of Greater Yellowlegs and then looking a little farther out, came upon my first two Snowy Egrets of the year. I texted Steve, then took another look and right next to them was an adult Little Blue Heron. No hemming and hawing about whether it was a juvenile. And that, I surmised, was the bird I mistook for a Tricolored Heron.

Snowy Egrets, Little Blue Heron, Spizzle

Steve had alerted me earlier, on Reed's, that the marina, just outside the park, had a couple of Forster's Terns, along with more Laughing Gulls, so I stopped there on the way back home and checked them off the list. Meanwhile, Steve told me he'd seen the Little Blue but only two yellowlegs were there, one of each variety. I hadn't examined the flock all that closely, so it made me wonder if I'd overlooked the Lesser Yellowlegs. I had. Examining the photos I took of the flock, there, at the end, was a Lesser Yellowlegs. My fifth new species of the year. It reminded me of the Marbled Godwit I photographed on Holgate in January--I saw it but didn't know I was seeing it. It's an existential problem for those of you who are philosophically inclined. 

Forster's Tern with Herring Gull, Marina

46 species for the day, all in all, a productive outing. 

Brant   Spizzle Creek
Canada Goose   Spizzle Creek
Mute Swan   Reed’s Road
Mallard   Spizzle Creek
American Black Duck   Spizzle Creek
Black Scoter   Northern Natural Area
Bufflehead   Reed’s Road
Red-breasted Merganser   Spizzle Creek
Mourning Dove   Reed’s Road
Greater Yellowlegs   Spizzle Creek
Lesser Yellowlegs   Spizzle Creek
Laughing Gull   Reed’s Road
Herring Gull   Northern Natural Area
Lesser Black-backed Gull   Northern Natural Area
Great Black-backed Gull   Reed’s Road
Forster's Tern   IBSP Marina
Common Loon   Northern Natural Area
Northern Gannet   Northern Natural Area
Double-crested Cormorant   Spizzle Creek
Great Egret   Reed’s Road
Snowy Egret   Spizzle Creek
Little Blue Heron   Spizzle Creek
Osprey   Spizzle Creek
Yellow-bellied Sapsucker   Reed’s Road
Northern Flicker   Reed’s Road
Eastern Phoebe   Reed’s Road
Blue Jay   Reed’s Road
Fish Crow   Spizzle Creek
Common Raven   IBSP Marina
Carolina Chickadee   Reed’s Road
Tree Swallow   Reed’s Road
Golden-crowned Kinglet   Reed’s Road
Red-breasted Nuthatch   Reed’s Road
Carolina Wren   Reed’s Road
Gray Catbird   Reed’s Road
Northern Mockingbird   Northern Natural Area
American Robin   Northern Natural Area
House Finch   Spizzle Creek
White-throated Sparrow   Reed’s Road
Song Sparrow   Northern Natural Area
Red-winged Blackbird   Northern Natural Area
Brown-headed Cowbird   Reed’s Road
Common Grackle   Northern Natural Area
Boat-tailed Grackle   Spizzle Creek
Yellow-rumped Warbler   Northern Natural Area
Northern Cardinal   Northern Natural Area

Cattus Island CP 3/21--Osprey

I was standing on the trail of Cattus Island where it goes between the marshes this morning, listening to a woodpecker hammering back in the woods, thinking what baloney it was that some people claim they can tell the species of woodpecker by the sound of it battering a tree, when I realized that I was also hearing an annoying "cheep cheep" from behind me.  Osprey. Ever since my summers on Martha's Vineyard where an Osprey nest was across the pond from my rented cottage, the incessant calling of that raptor has been like fingernails on a blackboard to me (aside: there's a phrase probably no one under 50 has ever experienced).(Further aside: same with "broken record.")

I turned around and there were two Osprey flying around, maybe a pair looking to set up housekeeping. One briefly landed on a nesting platform in the marsh, then took off. Although there has been at least one Osprey visiting Point Pleasant all winter, mid-March is the usual time they reappear in these parts. Eventually, on my way out, one of the Osprey was sitting on a different platform about a mile away. I took the obligatory (not-very-good) photo.

And so, photographers, stake out those Osprey nests. You too can add to the billions of photos of Ospreys, all of which look pretty much alike in these 3 categories: Osprey(s) sitting on nest. Osprey in flight, carrying fish. Osprey diving to catch fish (oooh).  I used to take one good photo of an Osprey at Brig and publish it on this blog as a public service, so that no one would have to waste their time waiting for the light to be just right, but it didn't seem to have any effect--the mystifying photographic fascination never abates. 

Actually, I happen to have taken the best picture of an Osprey. 

One year at Brig, I was going around the drive by myself when an Osprey was standing on the road in the path of my car. It wasn't sick. It didn't have a fish to eat. It just felt like being there, I guess. I waited and it stood there. I took a few photos to kill time, and it still stood there. I got back in the car and drove up, figuring it would fly away. It just stood there. I pulled up beside it and took a picture. It stood there. I leaned out of the car window and put the lens in its face. It didn't care. It stood there. And this is the picture I took:

Tell me it isn't the best photo of an Osprey you ever saw. 

Island Beach SP 3/16--Cedar Waxwing

Cedar Waxwing, Reed's Road

My favorite bird. And somehow I'd cruised past the Ides of March without seeing a Cedar Waxwing. I'd tried all the likely spots around here--Colliers Mills, Jumping Brook, Double Trouble, Whitesbog without finding one, never mind the flocks that you usually see. Waxwings are notorious for wandering, looking for berries or fruits, so just because they were in one place yesterday doesn't mean they will be there today. 

However, I hadn't been to Island Beach in a while and I'd seen them reported at a few of the bayside trails, so I gave that a whack this morning. I started out, as usual, on Reed's Road, which was quiet, as I expected--it is probably about a month before migration gets going--and while a close Horned Grebe in the bay was good to see, I thought I'd have to go a little further south to find what I was looking for. On the way out, though, robins suddenly started flying from one side of the trail to the other and when I looked up into the trees to follow them I saw smaller birds with the look of what I always think of as space cadets--masks over their eyes, and helmet of feathers. There were about 10 of them, going by, not staying very long in any one spot. With the overcast and the distance, I managed a couple of very poor photos. 

The rest of the morning I hit a lot of the bayside trails and made one walk over the dunes to look at the ocean (Long-tailed Ducks, Surf Scoters, a single gannet). Big flocks of Brants were at almost every stop as were Buffleheads. As to land birds, not much, though at the kayak access (A-15), I did find one Fox Sparrow and had two Common Ravens fly over me, croaking. An impressive corvid when you see them that low. 

No shorebirds and the only raptor I saw was an eagle flying over Reed's Road. Altogether, a paltry 32 species for the 8 miles strip of park that I covered, walking 5 miles on the various trails. 

Species   Location
Brant   Tidal Pond Trail
Canada Goose   Kayak access
Mute Swan   Winter Anchorage
Mallard   Reed’s Road
American Black Duck   Tidal Pond Trail
Green-winged Teal   Kayak access
Greater Scaup   Johnny Allen's Cove Trail
Surf Scoter   Interpretive Ctr Trail
Long-tailed Duck   Interpretive Ctr Trail
Bufflehead   Reed’s Road
Red-breasted Merganser   Reed’s Road
Horned Grebe   Reed’s Road
Mourning Dove   Reed’s Road
Herring Gull   Reed’s Road
Great Black-backed Gull   Reed’s Road
Northern Gannet   Interpretive Ctr Trail
Great Blue Heron   Winter Anchorage
Bald Eagle   Reed’s Road
Northern Flicker   Spizzle Creek Blind Trail
Common Raven   Kayak access
Carolina Chickadee   Reed’s Road
Carolina Wren   Reed’s Road
Northern Mockingbird   Spizzle Creek Blind Trail
American Robin   Reed’s Road
Cedar Waxwing   Reed’s Road
House Finch   Reed’s Road
Fox Sparrow   Kayak access
White-throated Sparrow   Kayak access
Song Sparrow   Kayak access
Red-winged Blackbird   Reed’s Road
Yellow-rumped Warbler   Tidal Pond Trail
Northern Cardinal   Reed’s Road

Horned Grebe, Spizzle Creek

Stafford Forge WMA 3/9--Red Crossbill

I birded Great Bay Blvd with Mike this morning and still had energy left over, so I stopped at Stafford Forge WMA, which is on my way home. I figured to get some walking in. The lake had a variety of waterfowl, and the grassy areas had robins and sparrows, but then, after that, the walk back into the woods was quiet. And for once, quiet was to my advantage.

I usually walk to a road that takes me to a backwater area. Just where I make the turn is a sandy area surrounded by pines. I heard one "jeep" from there and decided to take a look before heading for the water. Then the "jeep" repeated rapidly to "jip, jip, jip," and I had a funny feeling I knew what they were, even though I may go years without hearing them. I held up my phone with the Cornell's Merlin app open and bingo! I was hearing Red Crossbill over head.

Good. 

Then I heard more. Looking up, I saw a small flock fly over me, all calling "Jip, jip, jip." 

Better. 

And unlike most every time I've had crossbills fly over me, these stopped. I could see them in a dead tree directly ahead of me.   

Best.

And, amazingly, they just sat quietly in that tree, for what seemed like a very long time, but was, judging from the time stamps on my photos, about 6 minutes. I guess for an elusive bird like crossbills, that is a very long time. Long enough for me, with my ultra-slow-focusing camera, to get some decent shots of boths males and the yellowish females. My count was 7 crossbills in that tree. 

Bestest. 

And then, my camera battery died. And then, when I looked up again, they were gone. 

I made two recordings of their calls, only one of which I was able to upload to eBird. The other one, which is actually better quality, unfortunately caught me exclaiming an expletive in wonderment at my luck to run into these birds, all because I still needed exercise for the day. 

Male & female

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 

Cranberry Bogs 3/6--Eastern Phoebe, Tree Swallow

Eastern Phoebe

Precursor of spring: The Eastern Phoebe? 

I looked up the dictionary definition of "precursor" to see if the modifier "early" was redundant. It isn't, though "late" would be nonsensical. The usage example cited was "The first robin is a precursor of spring." Of course, it isn't, but accuracy isn't necessary when showing usage. Maybe in Maine it's true. 

Phoebes aren't all that unusual in winter either--I remember that the January day after Shari & I found the lapwings in New Egypt, I had a phoebe at Double Trouble. There's been one at Wells Mills Park this year reported off and on all winter. I didn't bother to go there; I figured I'd get a phoebe this year or else I had much bigger problems. But the cranberry bogs (the undeveloped section of Double Trouble, I'd like to know the history, whether it was part of the original Double Trouble cranberry operation or a separate entity) are only about 15 minutes away from here, so I've been traipsing around there a lot this season. 

Sunrise this morning was 6:23 and that is the precise time that my eBird list starts. It was very spring-like in terms of bird song. It seemed like everybody was singing at the proverbial crack of dawn. As soon as I got over the entrance hump, I could hear, among the cacophony of birds calling, the aggressive FEEBEE! from which the bird takes its name. The bird, however, was a good distance away, over by the buildings (a barracks, a storage shed, some kind of the cinderblock construction) and I walked over there to look for it. Normally, I wouldn't bother, but since this was FOY, I wanted to actually see it, and if possible, get some kind of photo to document it, as it is still flagged as "rare" for this time of year. 

I could hear the bird as if it was on top of me, standing by the barracks, but I have hard time locating birds by sound. They always seem like they're behind me, no matter what direction I'm facing. Of course, as soon as I finally found the bird, it flew off toward one of the bogs. I kept following it, as it moved from tree to tree, getting lots of crummy photos, until it relented and flew to the top of a tree where I was able to take a mediocre photo. More effort than I would normally put into a bird, but it was early. 

Tree Swallow

I then decided to walk back towards the big reservoir, which meant wading through a flooded path that seems to be getting deeper and longer each time I go there, which is why I always put on my muck boots there. There were lots of ducks along the way, mostly Ring-necked Ducks, and the blackbirds were singing, establishing territory. I don't think I've seen a female yet this season. When I got to the reservoir, I checked out the ancient swallow box that is stuck in the middle of the water--sometimes it is still used, but not today. Then I heard twittering. (Ever notice that Twitter's logo is a stylized swallow?) Looking up I saw 3 or 4 Tree Swallows swooping around. For me, this is pretty late in the year to get Tree Swallow--one or two are usually around one of the beaches I go to, living on bayberry fruit until the bugs come out, but until today, they managed to avoid me this year. 

After about an hour, the singing died down (except for the blackbirds). When I got back to the buildings, on my way out, I could still hear the phoebe's raspy "song," and I saw a Cooper's Hawk and a Hairy Woodpecker in the same area. For the morning, I tallied 26 species

Canada Goose  6     6+
American Black Duck  35     Flushed big flock from shallow bog
Ring-necked Duck  41
Bufflehead  2
Hooded Merganser  11
Mourning Dove  2
Herring Gull  2
Cooper's Hawk  1     
Red-tailed Hawk  1
Hairy Woodpecker  1     
Northern Flicker  1     Heard
Eastern Phoebe  1     
Blue Jay  1     Heard
American Crow  5
Carolina Chickadee  3
Tree Swallow  4     
Golden-crowned Kinglet  3
Red-breasted Nuthatch  1     Heard near big pit
Carolina Wren  1     Heard
Field Sparrow  2
Dark-eyed Junco  3
White-throated Sparrow  5
Song Sparrow  15
Red-winged Blackbird  30
Yellow-rumped Warbler  1
Northern Cardinal  2

You Can Observe a Lot Just by Watching

 Also spracht Yogi Berra. 

Looking for a place to bird out of the wind this morning, I took a long walk along the trails of Bunker Hill Bogs in Jackson. The wind was hardly noticeable in the woods there, as were the birds, except for a few busy pockets. Afterwards, I decided to go over to Jackson Liberty HS, since it was a Saturday and I wouldn't be viewed as a creep with binoculars--at least by students and faculty. I wanted to see if the Horned Larks were still on the soccer fields--it's always been amusing to me to find such big numbers of larks in such a random spot. 

I parked in one of the lots and saw behind me, near the football field, a flock of Canada Geese, maybe 175, certainly not unusual. The larks, alas, were not on the field, but at least a dozen Killdeer were, and a big flock of Ring-billed Gulls plopped themselves down for a while. Going back to the car I looked at the geese again and contemplated whether I wanted to go "all the way over there" (maybe 100 yards) to look for an unlikely Cackling Goose. I figured I ought to, even though the wind was gusting around 30 mph, and I knew from past experience that as soon as the flock caught sight of me it would start walking away. 

When I got about halfway there, I put up my binoculars and said aloud, "It's still here!" There, at the end of the line of geese, was a Greater White-fronted Goose, which was all the rarity rage back at the end of January, but which hadn't been reported in over a month.

Why? Because everyone who wanted to see it saw it and the bird entered rarity limbo, passing its time with the goose flock, going unnoticed unless by high school students who might give it half a thought if they saw it. I guess this is why the really great birders stop and observe every goose, gull, duck and sparrow flock, putting into practice Berra's Dictum. Because

Ya never know

                    --Anonymous