Mallard Duckling in Olympic National Park, Washington. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
Late spring and early summer can be a frustrating time for birding given the relatively low avian diversity, the bugs, and the traffic headaches/low-quality encounters as the Summer People emerge from their pods. But there are ducklings around! And ducklings are fun!
Several things always strike me about ducklings (besides how cute they are). First, they face some significant challenges . . . such as being on a lot of menus.
Muscovy Ducklings in Hermann Park, Houston, Texas. Canon EOS 7D/100-400mm f/4.5-5.6L IS. Natural light.
I remember as a child in Minnesota being horrified to learn that muskellunge (a type of large aggressive pike known to Midwesterners as “muskies”) eat ducklings. I remember standing on a dock and staring down into the water and seeing a bunch of these black and green striped killers on a stringer and thinking no more ducklings for you! Down here in Texas it’s alligators, snapping turtles, gar . . . and rat snakes. There’s no question about it, wild ducklings live in a dangerous world.
Another striking thing about wild ducklings is that many species look so much alike. Domestic ducklings, like Call Ducklings, are often all yellow, but sometimes show a variety of black markings. Apparently being yellow with black stripes and blotches makes for a perfect duckling in a wilderness setting.
A dark-colored top (with some disruptive stripes or spots) may camouflage the ducklings from predators from above, while the brightly-colored underside may not be as visible to aquatic predators viewing them from below against the sky. In any case, a counter-shaded black and yellow pattern certainly makes for a perfectly charming wild duckling.
Black-bellied Whistling-Duck Family at Elm Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
I think it would be terrific if everybody was alike.—Andy Warhol
What we observe is not nature itself, but nature exposed to our method of questioning.—Werner Heisenberg
Watching the Watcher: Yellow-crowned Night-Heron Nestlings at Brazos Bend State Park, Texas. A parent hunted crawfish about twenty yards from this nest. From time to time the adult would return to regurgitate food into the nest. The second catchlights are the reflection of the sun off the water below the nest. Natural light. All photos Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC).
Photographing nesting birds has many of the challenges of other types of bird photography–and a few of it’s own. On the technical side, nests are typically made of sticks (although not always) so nest shots often have the “stick-in-face” problem–like the image shown above. Many bird species also nest well above eye-level in trees, so, short of going to extraordinary lengths, you’re not going to get any good nest shots of many species. More significant, though, are the ethical concerns that come up in the course of nest photography.
Once you’ve found a nest, you know where to look for the action. There’s no chasing birds around in the brush! At first, this seems like this will make for getting great photographic results easily. A little consideration, however, reveals that this is decidedly not the case.
Normally when photographing birds one tries to get as close as possible. If the bird becomes annoyed it will simply fly (or run) off. Obviously nestlings can not flee, so the photographer or observer must use personal discipline to keep an ethical distance. And the duration of the observation must also be taken into account. Unless I’m somewhere like Smith Oaks where the birds are used to being observed all day long by large numbers of observers, after a few minutes of shooting, I’m on my way. Furthermore, although there is no evidence that the use of flash injures wildlife, it is logical that it should not used on nesting birds lest parents and young birds be unduly stressed.
Great Egret Feeding Young at Smith Oaks Rookery, High Island, Texas. Natural light.
One last philosophical point: We must concede that most of the time we do not really know how birds behave in their natural state. If we are observing them (and their perceptions are much sharper than ours), then they know we are watching and are likely behaving accordingly. Ironically, then, it would seem that places like Smith Oaks where many thousands of birders visit during the nesting season may provide the most “natural” viewing experience as birds simply learn to tune out the human throng completely and go about their business.
Roseate Spoonbill Tending Nest with Nestling at Smith Oaks Rookery, high Island, Texas. Natural light.
As far as I can judge, not much good can be done without disturbing something or somebody.—Edward Blake
Pure Id: Great Egret Nestlings at Smith Oaks Rookery, High Island, Texas. These guys are all about lunch. Natural light. All photos Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC).
Now that spring migration, the most exciting time of the birding year, is almost over, I have to seek adventure where I can find it. This often involves chasing waders around at Brazos Bend State Park (BBSP) as they hunt. Of course, a few of the spring (and summer) spectacles are still playing out–like the frenzy of nesting, breeding, and nurturing young observable at the coastal rookeries. Photographing this profusion of life-energy will be mosquito-bloodied interludes in my late spring and summer studies of wader feeding behaviors at BBSP.
Little Blue Heron with Little Crawfish at Pilant Lake, BBSP, Texas. High-speed synchronized fill-flash.
Although I’ve only been out to BBSP a few times recently, one thing already seems evident: 2014 is shaping up as the Year of the Crawfish. Despite hearing lots of frog song and even seeing lots of frogs jump when alligators move around, I haven’t been seeing waders eating frogs. But crawfish are being gobbled down left and right! Why are frogs not on the menu? Have I just missed them being eaten? Will wader tastes change with the summer?
White Ibis in Breeding Color with Big Juicy Crawfish at Pilant Lake, BBSP, Texas. Natural light.
This is one of the eternal joys of birding: new observations that lead to questions and more questions. Sorting out (or at least attempting to) why some types of prey proliferate some years while others are scarce is an ongoing research problem. Some years there are spiders (terrestrial or aquatic) everywhere and are eaten by hungry birds, and some years there are frogs and tadpoles everywhere and are grabbed, but sometimes rejected. But if you travel this path beware: you may find yourself reading articles about fungal infections of spiderlings or how winter water temperatures affect crawfish populations or . . . you get the idea.
Yellow-crowned Night-Heron with Little Crawfish at Pilant Lake, BBSP, Texas. Natural light.
Familiar things happen, and mankind does not bother about them. It requires a very unusual mind to undertake the analysis of the obvious.—Alfred North Whitehead
Juvenile Red Knot at Frenchtown Road, Bolivar Peninsula, Texas. According to the TOS Handbook of Texas Birds, large numbers of migrating Red Knots on the Bolivar Peninsula are, like many avian spectacles, “a thing of the past.” Red Knots breed on flat, desolate coastal areas of the High Arctic. Natural light. All photos Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC).
Now that May is almost over, it’s time to reflect on spring migration 2014 and plan for fall 2014 and spring 2015. This spring I had less success with songbirds and more success with shorebirds than I did last year. This was in part a function of taking special care to include shorebird localities (some new to us) in our travel plans along the Texas Gulf Coast, and in part simple luck. The results were shorebird species new to us and familiar species in different plumage colors than we’d seen before.
Baird’s Sandpiper(?) at the north pond, Lafitte’s Cove, Galveston Island, Texas. This bird was trying to pass unnoticed among a small group of Pectoral Sandpipers. Based on the bright white underparts, black legs, dark spot between eye and bill, silvery feather edges on upperparts, buff-colored upper breast with fine streaks, and wing tips that extend past the tail, I tentatively identified this bird as a Baird’s Sandpiper. I invite comments from anyone who knows better, however. High-speed synchronized fill-flash.
Of course, more time devoted to one arena of birding means less time for others. This year that didn’t fill me with too much regret as I often found the songbird hotspots to be really overcrowded, in some cases to the point where it was impossible to work. Many times shortly after arriving at a migrant songbird trap I’d find myself seeking a remote stretch of beach.
Muddy Whimbrel at Frenchtown Road, Bolivar Peninsula, Texas. This bird was fishing for crabs in the soupy sediment. Hand-held. Natural light.
Birding for shorebirds has it’s own challenges, of course. Let’s face it: identifying peeps (small sandpipers) can be tough. But I don’t mind a steep learning curve. My hope is that with after a little struggle and effort for a few years, I’ll be able to ID shorebirds easily in the future. The crowding at songbird localities is not a problem that’s going away, though.
As a partial solution (I hope) we’re looking into exploring some migrant traps further east, perhaps Grand Isle, Louisiana and Dauphin Island, Alabama. I know these are famous places, too, but it’s hard to believe that they will be as crowded as High Island or Lafitte’s Cove in mid-April, given that the metropolitan areas near them are much smaller than Houston. We’ll see.
Eastern Willet in Breeding Colors at Sportsman Road, Galveston Island, Texas. Note the pink base of the bill. The eastern subspecies of the Willet (Tringa semipalmata semipalmatus) winters in Central and South America and breeds along the Texas Gulf Coast. Hand-held, from vehicle. Natural light.
So it’s like starting over again, but I look forward to the challenge.—Lee Majors
Singing Male Prothonotary Warbler at Brazos Bend State Park, Texas. These warblers generally sing in shaded areas within fifty yards of the nest. Photo taken near Pilant Lake. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.
Over the past week, as migration began to wind down, we birded from High Island, down the Bolivar Peninsula, to Pelican Island, and south to Lafitte’s Cove, Galveston Island, taking pains to see a variety of habitats. I also took a solo trip to Brazos Bend State Park (BBSP), hoping to capture wader hunting scenes, as well as nesting and singing birds along the trail between Elm and 40-Acre Lakes (sometimes called Observation Tower Trail), a place I call “Warbler Alley.”
Many of the songbirds that migrate through Texas do not breed along the Gulf Coast, so we are not treated to their songs. Some birds do breed here, however, and at this time of year the forests, fields, and wetlands are filled with singing males of these species.
Perhaps the most noticeable of these singers are the Northern Cardinals, Carolina Wrens, Northern Parulas, and Prothonotary Warblers. The calls and songs of flycatchers can also be heard here and there if you listen carefully. I’ve seen the songs of the Prothonotary Warbler slighted by authors as repetitive, but I am grateful for any help I can get in locating any warbler species, especially such a beautiful one that, in the great majority of cases, sings in the shaded canopy.
Calling Male Scissor-tailed Flycatcher at Pelican Island, Texas. These flycatchers prefer semi-open terrain with scattered trees—like on Pelican Island! Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.
One of the things I especially like to keep an eye out for at this time of year is cavity nesting. Two of the loud singers common at BBSP, Prothonotary Warblers and Carolina Wrens, nest in cavities, such as abandoned woodpecker holes. Northern Parulas breed in the eastern one-third of Texas among Spanish moss and other epiphytes in forested areas near water. This makes BBSP an excellent place to search for singing and nesting Parulas.
Although Scissor-tailed Flycatchers breed throughout Texas (except for the western extremities of the state) I’ve never noticed any nesting scissor-tails at BBSP, even though there are significant grassy areas bordering forest. Perhaps I’ve just missed them. In total, I’ve seen just two Scissor-tailed Flycatchers at Brazos Bend. Both were flying along Pilant Slough. All the more reason to keep looking!
Singing Male Northern Parula at Brazos Bend State Park, Texas. In Texas, Northern Parulas are closely associated with Spanish moss. Near Pilant Lake. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
The only thing better than singing is more singing.—Ella Fitzgerald
Ruddy Turnstone in Breeding Colors at Rollover Fish Pass, Bolivar Peninsula, Texas. This bird was hunting small invertebrates among the fronds of an intertidal brown alga. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.
Three years ago it was a struggle to identify many of the migrant songbirds that filter through Texas every spring. Now, after quite a bit of study and observation, we can identify most fairly easily—although every so often . . . .
Shorebird identification, on the other hand, can still often be a challenge, especially during spring migration when nonbreeding, transitional, and breeding plumages are all around. Last week, with that in mind, we decided to focus on strand line habitat, Rollover Pass and Frenchtown Road, Bolivar Peninsula, specifically, in the hopes of increasing our shorebird knowledge as well as avoiding the mobs at the songbird hotspots!
Least Sandpiper in Breeding Plumage, Frenchtown Road, Bolivar Peninsula, Texas. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.Dunlin Transitioning into Breeding Plumage at Frenchtown Road, Bolivar Peninsula, Texas. Canon EOS 7D/600mm F/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.
Light conditions varied wildly from fair to appalling, often frustratingly so. I admit to having felt a bit annoyed when a Whimbrel or Snowy Plover was standing right in front of me and the glare of a white-hot sky cooked all the color out of everything—and no amount of chimping and tinkering with settings could coax a good image.
Some of the highlights of Rollover Pass included Snowy, Wilson’s, Black-bellied, and Semipalmated Plovers, dark and white morphs of the Reddish Egret, Least and Black Terns, Ruddy Turnstones in breeding colors, and Sanderlings in transitional plumage. Frenchtown Road yielded Whimbrel, Wilson’s Phalaropes, a Clappper Rail, and Dunlins and Least Sandpipers in breeding plumage, among others. Hopefully we can get to these localities again on a few clear days before these birds are off to the arctic or sub-arctic in their new colors.
Whimbrel on One of Those White-hot Texas Days, Frenchtown Road, Bolivar Peninsula, Texas. Sepia tones are about all you can expect under these conditions. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.
Every time we walk along a beach some ancient urge disturbs us so that we find ourselves shedding shoes and garments or scavenging among seaweed and whitened timbers like the homesick refugees of a long war.—Loren Eiseley
Male Scarlet Tanager in Breeding Color at Pelican Island, Texas. This dandy was feasting on bees and mulberries. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.
We recently stumbled upon a new strategy for birding the the Upper Texas Coast during spring migration: short road trips south from High Island across the Bolivar Peninsula to Galveston Island. After spending the evening birding High Island and the night in Winnie, Texas, an early morning jaunt down Highway 87 brings the birder past numerous outstanding locales. A copy of Finding birds on the Great Texas Coastal Birding Trail by Ted Lee Eubanks et al. is an excellent resource to use for planning purposes or to have at hand on the road.
Takeoff: Long-billed Dowitcher at Frenchtown Road, Bolivar Peninsula, Texas. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Hand-held, from car. Natural Light.Great Egret with Stick at Smith Oaks Rookery, High Island, Texas. Birders can currently observe Roseate Spoonbills, Great Egrets, Neotropic Cormorants, and Snowy Egrets fussing with nesting materials at Smith Oaks. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
The power of this approach to birding lies in the amazing diversity of coastal habitats and their avian inhabitants one encounters along this route, from oak motte migrant trap to beach to salt marsh to tidal lagoon. On such journeys one can truly appreciate how special this stretch of coast is, and how lucky we are to still be able to observe the incredible flow of biodiversity from the Neotropics (as well as our resident birds).
Pectoral Sandpiper at the south pond, Lafitte’s Cove, Galveston Island, Texas. This bird is en route from the Pampas of southern South America to the High Arctic. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
Travel becomes a strategy for accumulating photographs.—Susan Sontag
Snowy Egret in High Breeding Color at Smith Oaks Rookery, High Island, Texas. All images Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC).
Over the past week we’ve been visiting our favorite springtime haunts and hotspots. The Smith Oaks Rookery on High Island was an explosion of color dominated by Snowy Egrets (some in breeding, some in high breeding colors), Great Egrets, Roseate Spoonbills and Neotropic Cormorants. At Lafitte’s Cove the Hooded Warbler invasion continued, accompanied by a new invasion of Orchard Orioles and Indigo Buntings. Tennessee Warblers and White-eyed Vireos were common, too.
First Spring Male Indigo Bunting on Bottlebrush(Callistemon sp.) at Lafitte’s Cove, Galveston Island, Texas. Bottlebrush is native to Australia and is used as an ornamental in many places around the world. Stamens constitute the bulk of the visible part of flowers, which are highly attractive to insects and birds alike. Visiting birds usually come away dusted with pollen like this fellow. Indigo Buntings winter from Panama to South Texas and summer in the eastern U.S.
Lafitte’s Cove is wonderful because in one small preserve one can explore oak motte, marsh, and prairie habitat. The motte, of course, is famous for migrating songbirds, but the marshes and ponds, too, are almost always productive during migrations. This time, at the pond south of the trail we saw Solitary Sandpipers and Long-billed Dowitchers, both firsts for us at this locale. Explorations continuing . . . .
Long-billed Dowitcher at the south pond, Lafitte’s Cove, Galveston Island, Texas. This bird is fattening up for a trip to the High Arctic.
For an occurrence to become an adventure, it is necessary and sufficient for one to recount it.—Jean-Paul Sartre
Adult Male Hooded Warbler at Lafitte’s Cove, Galveston Island, Texas. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized flash.
Last weekend evidence of spring was all around Galveston and environs. The big news at Lafitte’s Cove was the Hooded Warbler invasion. With the exception of Yellow-rumped Warblers (Myrtle Race—still waiting for Audubon’s), Hooded Warblers probably outnumbered all other warbler species combined. Black and White, Louisiana Waterthrush, Common Yellowthroat, Northern Parula, and Prothonotary Warblers were also in attendance. White-eyed Vireos were profuse at Dos Vacas Muertas and Lafitte’s Cove.
Lesser Yellowlegs at East Beach, Galveston Island, Texas. Canon EOS 7D 600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.
There was a notable uptick of numbers of birds that winter on the Gulf Coast, but have significant parts of their ranges to the south–Lesser Yellowlegs, Ruby-crowned Kinglets, and Blue-gray Gnatcatchers, for example. Lesser Yellowlegs winter on the southern parts of the Atlantic and Pacific U.S. Coasts, as well as the Gulf Coast, but range all the way down to Tierra del Fuego. Technically, I suppose, it’s impossible to tell if individual birds have moved far, but seeing Lesser Yellowlegs at Lafitte’s Cove and East Beach suggest to me that they are part of a big wave from the south.
On the flycatcher front: In a week or so, the trees of Lafitte’s Cove will be hopping with Great-crested, Least, and Yellow-bellied Flycatchers—but last weekend I only saw Great-crested Flycatchers. Observations are continuing . . . .
Great-crested Flycatcher at Lafitte’s Cove, Galveston Island, Texas. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.
Now this is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning.—Winston Churchill
Possible Thayer’s Gull(?) at East Beach, Galveston Island, Texas. All photos: Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC); high-speed synchronized fill-flash.
In mid-March, I noticed a large, strange immature gull among a small group of Herring and Ring-billed Gulls at East Beach, Galveston gathered around a fish carcass. My first impression was that this gull had a more rounded head and relatively shorter bill than the Herring Gulls, and also tended to hold its head in a more upright posture. Tips of primaries and the tail feathers were a dark chocolate brown, rather than black. The pale yellow-gray eyes also caught my attention.
This odd gull, on the small end of the size range of typical Herring Gulls (and much larger than the Ring-billed Gulls), also acted differently from the other birds. This seemingly out-of-place gull was more curious and less suspicious than the others, slowing circling in the water as it waited for me to leave. At one point, the bird flew off, only to return a short time later. Suspecting a possible rarity, but not knowing precisely what I might have, I snapped a few images of the bird in a variety of postures for future study and moved on, leaving the birds to their breakfast.
Possible Thayer’s Gull(?) in Flight at East Beach, Galveston Island, Texas.
The Thayer’s Gull is a puzzling species. These gulls are reported rarely from the Texas Gulf Coast (and much of the eastern U.S.) during winter and early spring, although they breed in the high arctic and winter mostly on the Pacific Coast from Baja to Alaska. The winter movements of these birds are poorly understood. What are these vagrants after? Is it mere wanderlust?
Likewise problematic is the taxonomic status of the Thayer’s Gull: some authorities consider it a separate species, although others consider it a subspecies of the Iceland Gull. Because of wide individual variation, birds of this species are notoriously difficult to identify by birders (especially in areas these birds rarely frequent!) and professional ornithologists alike, disagreements over the identity of specific birds being common. Identification puzzlements are further complicated by the existence of hybridization of Thayer’s with Herring and Iceland Gulls. My suspicion is that the bird in question is a second winter Thayer’s Gull, or possibly a hybrid, but I happily invite comments from readers about the possible identity of the bird shown in these photos.
Standing Thayer’s Gull(?) at East Beach, Galveston Island, Texas.
Is there something we have forgotten? Some precious thing we have lost, wandering in strange lands?—Arna Bontemps
Winter Texan: Immature Forster’s Tern with Worm at East Beach, Galveston Island, Texas, in mid-March. A behavior I’d not seen before: Terns probing for invertebrates on an intertidal mudflat like sandpipers. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.
We’re just about there . . . just a few more days. Just a few more days until the most exciting birding of the year begins when hundreds of millions of birds begin pouring across and around the Gulf of Mexico. Sure, a few early birds are already moving through, but mostly it’s still the wintering species that I’m seeing. I also spotted some Wilson’s Plovers at East Beach. Many of these partial migrants extend their ranges north into Texas along the Gulf Coast of Mexico for the summer breeding season.
Partial Migrant: Wilson’s Plover at East Beach, Galveston Island, Texas in mid-March. Wilson’s Plovers begin arriving in Texas in mid-February. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.
On a few occasions over the past several weeks, I could have taken additional opportunities to step out (and deal with the mobs of maniac drivers) and look around and see who’s around. But then I think about the date, at the time of this writing still not quite officially spring, and think no, it’s unlikely that anybody really interesting is around, yet. In retrospect, this was probably a mistake. No matter what the time of year, Texas birding can offer up surprises and new experiences—it’s just a matter of exercising the discipline to get out and look.
Winter Texan: Yellow-rumped Warbler (Myrtle Race) at Lafitte’s Cove, Galveston Island, Texas. I saw bunch of these guys flitting about and thought Oh, boy warblers . . . until I got the big glass on them. Oh. It’s justyou guys.Still. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
Let’s go. We can’t. Why not? We’re waiting for Godot.—Samuel Beckett, Waiting for Godot
Female Red-winged Blackbird in winter at Myakka River State Park, Florida. Many references state that Red-winged Blackbirds are one of the most abundant birds in North America. But is this still really true? Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.
A sighting of two female Red-winged Blackbirds eating cautiously from the seed feeders at the Edith L. Moore Sanctuary in west Houston on the afternoon of February 27 reminded me of what I saw recently in the north woods of Wisconsin and Minnesota. These suspicious birds were likely hungry migrants on their way north, to perhaps the very same Great Lakes region habitats I visited last summer.
After that trip, I wrote about ecological changes I observed birding the woods of northern Wisconsin and Minnesota. One of those changes was an apparent drastic reduction in the number of Red-winged Blackbirds in a variety of habitats relative to what I remembered from childhood. Rather than large flocks in cattail marshes and around the margins of lakes and rivers, I saw only scattered small groups of fewer than ten birds.
In 2009 APHIS, part of USDA, says it poisoned 489,444 red-winged blackbirds in Texas, and 461,669 in Louisiana.—Martha Rosenberg, huffingtonpost.com
Further reading after these observations substantiated impressions of massive population losses. Ever since that time, I have kept an eye out for these birds wherever possible. I am aware, however, that reports based on anecdotal evidence will likely convince no-one, especially those with a vested interest in denial.
Singing Male Red-winged Blackbird in winter at Pilant Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.
The “famous” taxpayer-supported USDA program of mass poisoning of icterids (blackbirds, grackles, cowbirds) and other agricultural pest species like magpies and European Starlings called “Bye bye blackbird” is probably just the tip of the iceberg of officially sanctioned avian extermination. I say famous because this is a well-known program widely reported on in the blogosphere—but never (to my knowledge) in the really “big time” popular media outlets, the ABC Evening News or the PBS Newshour, for example. (Sidebar: Why is this? Why must we look only to elite publications like Audubon’s “Common Birds in Decline” or National Geographic ‘s “Last Song for Migrating Birds” for reports of the destruction of the environment and the slaughter of its innocents? I guess it would take time away from reports of Justin Bieber’s latest brush with the law and interviews with random passersby about the weather.)
Furthermore, the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service (part of the Department of the Interior) has issued a directive, a so-called depredation order, that anyone can kill any number of pest birds they suspect of causing economic damage or posing health risks (sometimes with avicides like Starlicide and administered by professional contractors in the form of poisoned brown rice baits). These private activities are perhaps more disturbing than the USDA programs because of the much larger potential scale of the killing–and the USDA kills birds by the millions! In the eyes of the federal government (and many farmers) icterids are apparently vermin of no worth whatsoever—despite detailed agricultural studies showing that as a result of insectivorous blackbirds, farmers can use 50% less pesticide.
For me, the bold, difficult to describe call of the Male Red-winged Black-bird is the sound of a marsh. Males perched atop cattails with females poking around in the brush below is what a marsh is supposed to look and sound like. Should the Red-winged Blackbird go the way of the Passenger Pigeon, marshes across North America will lose some of their most defining characteristics and aesthetic qualities—the experience of visiting a marsh will be immeasurably degraded.
Perhaps the plight of the Rusty Blackbird will focus some more attention on systematic, deliberate avian extermination. Rusty Blackbirds have suffered an estimated 85-98% reduction in population over the past 40 years likely due, in part, to agricultural poisoning by the government and private individuals. The Rusty Blackbird (along with the Mexican Crow) has been removed from the depredation order—at least taxpayers are not paying for the extermination and protection of the same species. Perhaps that’s all we can hope for in the current Age of Dysfunction—although I fail to understand how Rusty Blackbirds and Mexican Crows will be kept from eating the poisoned rice.
A Male Great-tailed Grackle Intimidates Rivals Over a Seagull Carcass at East Beach, Galveston Island, Texas. According to the federal government such birds are vermin and can be killed with impunity. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.
I value my garden more for being full of blackbirds than of cherries, and very frankly give them fruit for their songs.—Joseph Addison, The Spectator
