The cranes! The cranes!

A couple young Whooping Cranes arrived today at St. Marks NWR in Florida to spend the winter... led there from Wisconsin off the wings of an ultralight... how cool is that?!?

You can learn more about their incredible journey at the Operation Migration Field Journal.

I wrote some more about the Whooping Cranes at St. Mark's here.

Ternabout

For the longest time, I just didn't "get" terns. Nowadays I can't seem to get enough of them!

For the beginner, I think they're hard to separate, but the more time I get to spend with them, the clearer the contrasts become.

Distinguishing Royal (foreground) from Caspian (background) had felt so abstract until I saw them on the beach together at Sapelo... even out of focus, the Caspians are burly by comparison and there's no mistaking the red of their bill for that of a Royal.

Note: I'm catching up with posting some old photos that I hadn't yet blogged... these from the beach in October are warming my chilly bones.

Remembering warmer days

Waiting for the ferry to Sapelo

A spectacle in black and white, brown and blue

The promise of hundreds upon hundreds of Snow Geese drew me to Forsythe NWR this past weekend...

Their handsome white or shades of gray in the blue sky, the black wing feathers, pinkish bills and feet...

All delightful against the winter browns of the salt marsh.

It's difficult to watch any one, as there are so many flying across the marsh from one impoundment to the next...

An Eagle on the horizon doesn't cause the expected panic among them; they sit tight instead and travel across the marsh en masse, at their leisure and to my delight.

*The coastal marshes of NJ are a significant wintering ground for Snow Geese; their numbers will grow into the (hundreds?) of thousands before our waters freeze and they're forced further south to warmer climes. I'm glad for the spectacle of them, here, now.

: )

Here's looking at you

: )

Ducks around town

I'm lucky to live along the coast and in a place where ducks like to be in winter; each town has its' own little pond just a block in from the ocean and each seems to attract a particular variety of waterfowl...

Traveling from one pond to the next is half the fun; discovering what has shown up since last weekend is the best part. Gadwall are a nice find and under-appreciated, I think... that speckled zig-zaggeyness of their bellies is gorgeous, no?

I have trouble remembering the names of each pond or distinguishing one from the next along the circuitous route I follow by habit from town to town; I know to expect Ruddy Ducks here, but

I think of this as the Night Heron Pond (Silver Lake, I think) because there's always at least a dozen of them roosting in the shrubbery on a little island in the middle of the pond. I can sit down out of the wind and watch them materialize before my eyes. We counted 14 today without really trying and that number will increase as it gets colder.

Hooded Mergansers seem to be everywhere, on every little pond, but getting a decent pic of one is forever challenging.

Lake Takanassee is a favored spot for Ring-Necked Duck (not here last weekend!) Canvasbacks and in a good year, Red Heads. There's always gulls to sort through, if you're so inclined (I'm not) and the light in late afternoon is sweet for photos of the Mute Swans that seem to be taking over there.

(ick.)

The day ends at Sandy Hook with the wind, watching Gannets feeding over the hunched-up shoulders of some very cold-looking fishermen, Manhattan in the distance and kite surfers on the bay.

Mmm...

All the chatter at work the last few days has been about the upcoming holiday meal and who's going where and cooking what.

It's a pretty diverse crowd and I've enjoyed hearing about everyone's plans for Thanksgiving as well as their family traditions. My own family is pretty typical, I'd guess... a huge meal on the fancy china, but the star of the show is always the variety of vegetables we prepare; we always go a little overboard in that way. It's hard for me to settle on a favorite, but Brussels Sprouts certainly top my list.

Is that weird?

(It seems like most everyone I talk to hates Brussels Sprouts!)

My answer is that if you don't like 'em, you must not be cooking them properly.

; )

So tell me... what's your favorite thing to eat on Turkey Day? Mashed potatoes piled high with butter? Or mixed with whipped turnips? Creamed (yuck!) onions? Lasagna? Arroz con gandules?

Bad bird photo of the week

Cross-eyed (and beakless!)

; )

The plumes blowing in the breeze are kinda sweet, tho.

Criers of the winter to come...

Tundra Swans over Cape May - October 2010

Fishing the sky

"What a needy, desperate thing to claim what's wild for oneself..."

Can a kept hawk ever be a *happy* hawk, I wonder?

Falconers will say their birds are well-loved and are cared for properly. I don't doubt that.

Educators who work with non-releasable birds will say that many people who otherwise wouldn't have the chance to interact with a wild thing are touched by the lives of these captive birds. I don't doubt that, either.

But keeping wild-caught birds for falconry? Purposely fishing the sky for a healthy hawk to catch and keep as one's personal hunting partner?

How is that right?

Are captive-bred birds somehow less desirable for falconry?

Anyone know?

I'm as guilty as the next person of enjoying the "horse and pony show" offered by the opportunity to be up close with a wild bird of prey, but I can't help wondering that their souls aren't somehow diminished by the contact; by being kept.

Non-releasable birds have to be thought of in a different context, I guess, because of their potential as champions and ambassadors of a species; were it not for them most people would never have the chance to see a Bald Eagle or a Screech Owl at arm's length. Or to understand the impact we humans have on them.

But falconers and their healthy wild-caught birds?

I'm not so sure how I feel about that.

My issue is not with falconers, exactly. Falconry sounds like a very cool thing to do... there was a period of time where I read everything about falconry that I could get my hands on. Dan O'Brien's books were particularly alluring to me... his stories of hunting grouse and ducks on the prairies of South Dakota with a dog and the constant sky...

Falconers are due credit, I believe, for the role they played in saving the Peregrine Falcon, among other species. The individual falconer with a couple birds that he flies on weekends as part of a greater lifestyle does not trouble me.

My issue is with those who turn to *education* to support a habit of acquiring birds. Maybe they need an educational component on their license to increase the number of birds they're permitted to keep. I have no idea, really, but I've seen a number over the years who just don't seem to be doing the right thing by the birds in their care.

Maybe I'm just being overly sentimental.

"... to be wild means nothing you do or have done needs to be explained."

Photos: Harris' Hawk at an upstate NY *raptor center*
Quotes from "Hawk" by Stephen Dunn

Favorites

A couple more from photography boot camp...

The cold at sunup was still a novelty that weekend...

One of a hundred arhats...

A falconer's redtail...

Darn that guy for walking through my pic...

Thanks to Jayne for a bit of photoshop magic!

; )

A sweet cow with spurs...

More clouds...

A Picturesque view of Olana

This photo is mostly about the clouds for me...

(god, I love a wide-angle lens!)

But there's the whole Persian mansion thing at Olana and finding a more complete view of it was very difficult. Frederic Church designed it that way; he wanted the landscape to be experienced in *glimpses* or a particular, planned sequence of views...

The other photographers at Camp that weekend approached their work very seriously and with tripods, lining up to take (presumably) the same photo as the person before and behind.

(blech!)

I wandered around and in Gorilla-photographer mode ran down this hill with arms extended... briefly considered a child-like roll, even...

(but for the camera equipment and the embarrassment of being caught in the act!)

I turned around and found the mansion perched beside a maple tree afire...

: )

A Ming vase can be well-designed and well-made and is beautiful for that reason alone. I don't think this can be true for photography. Unless there is something a little incomplete and a little strange, it will simply look like a copy of something pretty. ~John Loengard, "Pictures Under Discussion"

Bad bird photo of the week

Hmm...

My only hint is that I've never been to Texas.

: )

Invisibird

Brown Creeper, disappearing.

Were it not for their predictable habit of hanging out in the trees surrounding the Sandy Hook Bird Observatory and climbing upwards (but only partway!) before swooping down to the base of a nearby tree and starting their ascent all over again, I'd probably never notice them.

I did spend all that time watching kinglets yesterday tho, so my eyes had plenty of time to wander to the other birds who keep company with them.

Brown Creepers don't look like much, but they're a treat anyway and their song is sweet beyond words.

Where must a person live to hear Creepers sing regularly?

Petty kings

If only I'd gotten this hairdo...

combined with this expression!

: )

(I can't stop giggling at this pic!)

I wandered around Sandy Hook hoping for my first Brant of the season, but found none, despite they're being "in" already. Instead I spent the afternoon kicking up Golden Crowned Kinglets from the grass at my feet... such endearing little birds once you get eye level with them.

Eye level to a kinglet today meant parking myself in a sunny spot in the grass where they were feeding and waiting for them to come close enough... which garnered many a curious glance as I focused my lens at nothing very obvious to most people passing by.

It strikes me that bird photography, by necessity, is a solitary pursuit...

The post title refers to a translation of the genus name Regulus to which the kinglets belong; historical names include Flame-crest and Fiery-crowned Wren. The orange patch is only visible when a bird is excited or challenged by another. I think that's what the show was about in that top photo, as two birds were feeding very close together at the base of the tree.

Ok, Southern garden ladies...

Anyone recognize it?

Wordless Wednesday - Some fall color

Daybreak

There is truth in a tree, yet it's of a different kind, now. It's not the verity born of strength and affirmation, but the peaceful quiet of fulfillment and endings.

The passing of summer is the passing of beauty; first the chicory is gone and now the goldenrod has faded. I feel winter rushing towards me in the painful blue of sky. The maples are busy making their own light; the long deep breath of Autumn has begun. 

5 ways to look at a willet

I spent a couple of happy hours stalking the willets feeding at low tide on St. Simons Island and never could figure out what it was they were eating...

: )

A week in photos

So... what have you been up to?

: )

The happiness that comes to us

Disgruntled beginning birders were the theme at Sandy Hook Bird Observatory today; my first volunteer day since, oh... June, I guess.

Sitting behind the desk in that drafty building on the bay, on any given Sunday, promises a variety of experiences. Many days we see no one, but oftentimes we have a mix of visitors, full of questions, but hesitant to spend any money to validate our presence there.

Today, Donna and I managed to sell exactly one "Butterflies of Sandy Hook" checklist.

(Exactly sixty-four cents with tax.)

A banner sales day!

; )

Donna, who's a librarian by day, is used to this sort of trading of information for the sake of visitorship. She recognizes our purpose there more readily than me, probably.

Me... I feel like I haven't earned my keep as a volunteer if I haven't sold at least one copy of the Sibley's guide...

The folks who came in today or called to complain... about the birds not being Here now... or the birds not being There yesterday, were expressing a frustration that I imagine many of us feel...

We want what we want from the natural world, when we want it.

If we show up... we expect Nature will be there waiting for us, with bells on.

Right?

I've spent the last couple weekends at Cape May or at the hawkwatch in Montclair... looking for hawks, waiting for them to show...

They never did, really, not in any spectacular way that I've come to expect. Instead there was a huge passing of Monarch butterflies at Cape May and Buckeyes in the hundreds of thousands...

And a Ruby-throated Hummingbird that amused me for hours while waiting for Broadwings to pass, near invisible, overhead...

Opportunities fly by while we sit regretting the chances we have lost, and the happiness that comes to us we heed not, because of the happiness that is gone.

~Jerome K. Jerome, The Idle Thoughts of an Idle Fellow, 1889

Cutwater

also Scissorbill, Shearwater and previously known along the Virginia coast as Storm Gull.

I'd suggest the addition of Penguin Gull.

; )

Do you see the similarity?

My 1917 edition of the Birds of America is a joy for many reasons, but I particularly enjoy it for the local or historical names; so often these names are much more evocative of a bird's spirit or some fundamental quality that we associate them with.

Peterson sort of dryly describes their call as *barking* or alternately as "kaup, kaup." To me it sounds like something between a bark and a quack. Members of a colony at rest on the beach will call anxiously to one another as people approach on foot and it sounds for all the world to me like a childhood game of "Marco Polo."

Listen for that next time!

Almost There

"Nature repeats itself in many forms. When I look at Queen Anne's Lace, I see outer space. When I look to the sky, I see flowers."

Some of you may have known Bobbie at Almost There and remember that she passed away back in late June of this year. I never met Bobbie, but we often kidded about meeting someday down at Cape May where she lived. In fact, I tried talking her into coming along on a Flock gathering many times; Bobbie was my Dad's age and I guess the thought of running around with a couple crazy-birder-types seemed like too much to her. I'd have been content to sit beside her on a bench beneath the lighthouse and listen to her stories instead.

So I went this morning to her memorial service at Leaming's Run Gardens and listened to her children tell her story, mostly by sharing excerpts from the writing she'd done through the years. Much of her family history and personal insights were included in a small memorial book... the opening quote about Queen Anne's Lace came from there... and this offered me a better appreciation of a woman I'd admired from afar for the last couple years.