Thursday, June 02, 2011

Plovers, now

I'm counting on you all not getting too tired of these fuzzy snapshots of Piping Plovers...

; )

I've been "occasionally" volunteering as a plover warden at Seven President's Park in Long Branch for a little over a month now... meaning I show up there when the mood strikes me and walk the wrack line and look officious with my badge and binoculars and big camera lens...

: )

Until this past weekend, I was monitoring nothing beyond a space set aside for the hope of nesting Piping Plovers. A pair had made an attempt in late April, but hadn't been seen since... I kept showing up anyway when I needed an ocean fix, but really had started to wonder if my time there made any sense.

These birds are notoriously hard to see and survive mostly by being invisible, so I kept telling myself that I just wasn't looking hard enough, you know?

The Least Terns showed up and they were enough of a distraction for a while that I was able to feel like my presence there was important enough. But...

I heard just today that there are two nesting pairs with eggs(!) and those nests have been protected with exclosures...

: )

So now the serious business begins... where's my whistle?

Tuesday, May 31, 2011

A spectacle, subdued

Reed's Beach is a tiny bayshore community located about 10 miles north of Cape May. It and other similarly sleepy and bug-infested places along the shores of Delaware Bay find themselves, for a couple weeks each year in late May/early June, at the convergence of diverse and, often, conflicting interests.

Firstly, there is the time-honored claim made by the horseshoe crab. The spring tides attract them to the calm bay shores to spawn and lay their eggs, by the billions.

Drawn specifically to the horseshoe crabs themselves, rather than their eggs, are commercial fishermen. Their value to the biomedical industry and as bait for eel and conch has led to a severe decline in the horseshoe crab population recently.

Next there are the birds that are lured to the bonanza of food presented by the spawning horseshoe crabs... all the seaside regulars show up to eat... gulls, grackles, shorebirds, crows... the beach is a living (and loud!) mosaic of birdlife.

Add the occasional predator to the scene, in this case a Peregrine, and you have the perfect recipe for a birder orgy. Birders love to see such drama and spectacle.

Our claim to this extravaganza, as birders, is a relatively recent one. Crabs and shorebirds were converging here on the Delaware Bay for any number of years without anyone really being aware of it. No sooner had the birding community come to know of it, than it almost disappeared.

Almost!

The star species in this spectacle of birds and crabs is the Red Knot. A robin-sized shorebird that undertakes a world-class migration and stops, midpoint, at Delaware Bay to refuel on its journey to the Arctic to breed.

Scientists and the birding community have watched their numbers plummet year after year. This year, on the lucky day we were there to witness it, some 5,000 had just arrived from Tierra del Fuego. 5,000 sounds like an impressive number until you understand that you're looking at approx. half the Eastern population of a species.

Half of all the Red Knots in my world were spread there on the beach in front of us and still the shoreline looked mostly empty. A Peregrine appeared on the horizon and cut through the panicked flock, reducing it by one, perhaps. One less than half the population landed again, only to be panicked from their feeding, yet again, by a photographer or a fisherman intent on the jetty.

We all stake our claims...

One of the finest and most informative videos I've yet found is available at this link from PBS.

Saturday, May 28, 2011

Birds in weird places #1

Willet on telephone pole...

Tuesday, May 24, 2011

So I saw a couple shorebirds...

I haven't had the heart to visit Cape May for the spring shorebird migration for a while now; probably it's been almost 10 years, in fact.

However, the chance to share the spectacle with someone who hadn't ever witnessed it motivated me enough to bear the chance of a broken heart for what's been lost on the Delaware Bayshore in recent years.

I was so hoping to find more than a memory there. And we were lucky to be there on a day when the moon and the tides were in our favor... and there were thousands and thousands of shorebirds!

These first couple pics are mostly Semipalmated Sandpipers, I think. I could spend the next couple weeks trying to separate them from the Sanderlings I think I know so well.

What I hope you'll take away from these pics is the sheer abundance of birds gathered there to feed and rest.

For all the denying I like to do about shorebirds, their beauty is hard to counter. Conveniently, in spring, they're all decked out in their finest and mostly like to huddle together with their own kind, making ID easier. These are Dunlin. Aren't they beautiful?

: )

And we found Red Knots, thank goodness! Counters estimated 5,000 in the area of Reed's Beach that day and while I was glad for our good timing in being there on the day that they were finally "in", the truth behind that 5,000 is not so heartening as it might seem...

More another day.

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

Plover news

I thought I'd take a minute to share some pix and an update on the Piping Plovers out at Sandy Hook. I got to spend some quality time with them on World Series Day when all the serious birders were sorting through the gulls and terns amassed at the end of the Fishermen's Trail.

Did I mention that we made two death marches out there that day to look at gulls?

: )

I've decided this season to volunteer as a shorebird monitor at a different site, rather than Sandy Hook. At our site, we don't yet have a pair of nesting Plovers and with each day that passes the chances of a pair nesting there decreases. It's likely that we'll have Least Terns, though, so I'll still have an excuse to hang out at the beach after work a couple days a week.

Sandy Hook is a very productive site and already this season has something like 30 nesting pairs. The dunes are decorated with electrified nest exclosures like this one pictured... each one marking the location of an active nest.

The nest exclosures take the invisible and make it very conspicuous. It'd be hard to stumble upon and destroy a nest so clearly identified in this way. The electrical shock is said to be mild and just enough to deter predators like foxes and gulls from gaining entry. I've read that foxes continue to be a problem, however, as some learn to dig under the exclosure to get at the nest within.

Sadly, a mild shock is not enough to deter malicious people from willfully destroying Plover nests. About-to-hatch eggs were removed from an electrified exclosure at Sandy Hook a couple summers ago. That sad story is available here. Of course no one will ever be caught, but the reward sign still stands at the beginning of the Fishermen's Trail.

Even though it goes against the Plover's natural defense mechanism - being invisible - I'd guess these exclosures are a good thing in that they make the nests out-of-bounds for the casual beach-walker or off-leash dog. For the occasional idiot intent on hurting them, the exclosure marks an easy target.

Working the tide lines and wet sand in wash zones, both adults and chicks will seek the shore to find worms, fly larvae, beetles, crustaceans, mollusks and other invertebrates to pluck from the sand.

On World Series Day I was lucky enough to witness a nest exchange; the male sneaking in to take over egg-warming duties from the female. Later in the day, I found the pair feeding together at the shoreline.

I'm assuming this is a pair, anyway!

How such a small and unassuming bird survives in this harsh and changeable world is an incredible story. For all their dauntless spirit, Piping Plovers always seem to live on the edge of extinction, facing every year fewer nesting beaches, increasing pollution, human development and a growing population of predators. They deserve every bit of protection we can afford them.

And as much camera time as they'll comfortably allow.

: )

Sunday, May 15, 2011

World Series of Birding 2011

Yesterday was World Series Day here in NJ; a slow migrant day, but we did find some sweet birds. Two special species are pictured here... anyone care to venture a guess at them?

We ended with 116 species for the day, far from last year's best of 143, but not so bad!

Friday, May 13, 2011

Life is old there

During some "off" time during the first day of the New River Birding and Nature Festival we wandered down a windy single-lane road to the long-forgotten railroad town of Thurmond, West Virginia.

You arrive in Thurmond by crossing the New River over a narrow bridge that doubles as a railroad bridge. It feels pretty old and rickety, but was perfectly safe. I held my breath most of the way across, just in case.

; )

A short walk from the railroad depot, lies Thurmond's old downtown, built right along the railroad tracks. Several old buildings, including a bank with an impressive facade, make up the old downtown.

According to the 2000 census, Thurmond has 7 residents. Back in Thurmond's heyday, more than 500 people lived here and the rail lines carried more than 97 thousand passengers a year, along with 3.5 million tons of freight (most of which was coal).

Making our way back to civilization, we found a small roadside waterfall that demanded a ritual toe-dunking.

: )

8/100

Late in the week at New River, Beth G. and I had separated ourselves for an hour or so from the "serious birders" in order to photograph the Glade Creek Mill at Babcock State Park. It's a very pretty setting and deserved some time of its own.

So Beth set up her tripod and we scrambled around on the rocks in the middle of the creek for a perfect view of the mill... of course I was distracted the whole time by the fishermen who station themselves along the way. I'm always on the prowl for interesting strangers to photograph, but more often than not, my shyness gets in the way of asking for a photo.

So this guy approached us, once we had given up on photography and decided to go back to birding, to ask us what we were doing there that day and where we were from, etc.

We told him we were there to look at birds and his response was, "The birds are all dead."

Huh?

And he told us about, how, as a kid up at dawn, there used to be a deafening sound of song from birds. He doesn't hear that anymore. Doesn't hear birds singing, at all. So they're all dead.

Huh?

Mind you, his accent was pretty thick, so maybe I misheard him.

; )

In my devilishly charming sort of way I suggested that maybe his hearing was just going... that birds were still singing, but his ears were just too old to hear them, maybe.

; )

This was the moment when I asked for his photo. It's one of my favorites.

This photo is #8 in my 100 strangers project. Find out more about the project and see pictures taken by other photographers at Flickr 100 Strangers or www.100Strangers.com

Tuesday, May 10, 2011

The full report












The full report on the New River Birding and Nature Festival will have to wait a bit; for now there's just these couple images... of perfect roadside wildflowers, of rivers rushing across bared toes, of ghost towns nestled in the mountains, weathered barns along the way, of impossible to photograph birds, memories of twisty country roads, lush hillsides and scenic saw mills, the laughter of an impossible-to-imagine mix of friends, graffiti as art and, finally, a hug between two beloved Flock-mates for the sake of a little bird colored blue like the spring sky.

Monday, May 02, 2011

Yesterday

I was really tempted by the fried bolony...

; )

Saturday, April 30, 2011

Today

The home team lost, but it was a beautiful day nonetheless.

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

Told you so

So I'd been almost patting myself on the back a couple weeks ago, thinking I'd earned my angel wings and all that...

That sort of thinking never turns out well, does it?

I'd managed to orchestrate a move for one of my most difficult mentally ill clients; he's been living in something like a boarding home situation for about 16 years and has wanted out of that climate for most all of that time. He'd call me multiple times a week with a new apartment he'd found or a new real estate agent he'd harassed into helping him find a place... all of which led to nothing but frustration on both our parts.

See, the thing is, he's crazy and has a hard time hiding it.

He has a small army of social workers that've been helping him to live a somewhat independent life... people that make sure he stays on his meds, washes his self and his clothes, pays his bills, doesn't piss off his landlord too much (that's my job!), etc.

We all sort of doubted that he could live on his own, but that's not our choice to make, is it?

So after years of trying and when things with his current landlord finally reached a breaking point, I located an apartment that met his annoyingly particular needs and begged him to let me do my job and get him into it.

Stay out of it! Please! Don't keep calling them with your craziness!

Instead he'd call me everyday with his questions and his rantings, trying to micromanage a process that he didn't need to be a part of. There were a lot of glitches along the way, but I got him in, got the Salvation Army to move him and donate furniture and household stuff. A success, I thought.

I'd hoped so anyway, with fingers crossed.

The ink is barely dry on our contracts with the new landlord. My phone has been eerily silent... I wanted that to mean things were going smoothly.

Today I got the call that his landlord is filing a notice to cease. This is the first legal step in the eviction process.

After just 25 days.

Can I get an, "I told you so"?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Most of my mentally ill clients are blessed with wonderful, caring and understanding landlords. The issues they deal with from their tenants are unpredictably varied. I want to be able to draw some conclusion from my experiences, but I'm not there just yet. It feels like the various support systems that are in place to support the mentally ill are not working very well.

Friday, April 15, 2011

Sandy Hook

gull wing curve of beach terns
in flocks like sheep standing one-legged
weather vanes into the wind swirls
and eddies of clam shells mussels
chaff of dune grass pebbles drifting
the gentle swells of sand white caps
bottle caps fishing skiffs sand castles
afternoon lineup of jets overhead in the wind
a plastic bag rolls over and over

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Monmouth County Audubon's bi-monthly field trip to Sandy Hook meets tomorrow at the Visitor's Center at 10 am. Laughing Gulls have arrived as have other spring migrants. Join us to welcome them back!

Sunday, April 10, 2011

The disappearing

What do the disappearing know?

Can they change fast enough
with the few genes they have left
to make themselves more seen
in the sand? Will they learn that
what hides them
has become a clever enemy?

Can we read answers in their eyes
as they lead us away from their nests, piping
between flat beach stones piping
the same smooth recorder notes they piped
when no human threat
smashed their last eggs?

Do they
in their few numbers
hide until time
brings them a safe lover
or a place where their future won't be shattered?

What can they know of a final going?

Will they continue to try
to guide us away
because it's the only way they know how?

As if any of us, any fox or truck or boisterous dog could hear that song,
that piper in its low haunt
the possible dirge
of an almost invisible bird.

Thursday, April 07, 2011

Some poems

some poems
you do not write

you wait
hushed
as the soil strains
its urgent whisper

this

listen
and remember
this

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Bloodroot is peeking through the forest floor now; stepped over and unseen by all but those who know to look for it.

The Wiki link above is worth a read for its explanation of myrmecochory that I referred to in this prior post, but which I almost believed to be a fable.

Sunday, April 03, 2011

It looked like love




Although as quickly as it happened, he might just have misjudged his landing...

; )