Juvenile Caspian Tern Begging for Food at East Beach, Galveston Island, Texas in February. Note the dark flecks on the youngster’s wings. Identical scenes involving other tern species are common at East Beach. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.
I find that it’s always a good idea to carefully scrutinize flocks of shorebirds for the rarity who may be trying pass unnoticed among the hoi polloi. When I do spot an unfamiliar shorebird, I snap a few images for future research. Terns and gulls most commonly are the cause of these identification puzzlements.
Juvenile Ring-billed Gull at East Beach, Galveston Island, Texas in February. The pink bill indicates that this is a first-winter bird. By next year, the base of the bill will be yellow, but the plumage will not yet be the spectacular snowy white, pearl gray, and black of the adult. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.
Usually the mystery bird is not a rarity at all, but rather a youngster of a common species. Perhaps the most common gulls at East Beach are Laughing Gulls, Herring Gulls, and Ring-billed Gulls. All of these species have distinct breeding and non-breeding plumages as well as juvenile colors significantly different from those of the adult birds.
Juvenile Herring Gull in Flight at East Beach, Galveston Island, Texas in February. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
This great seasonal and developmental variation in appearance within a singles species is one of the challenges of birding. And one that keeps me, at least, heading back to the reference books after just about every trip to the beach.
Herring Gull in Breeding Plumage, South Shore, Lake Superior, Wisconsin. Photo taken in June. In full breeding colors, many gulls are simply glorious. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
Hunting Western Sandpiper(Calidris mauri)on a Beautifully Rippled Surface at East Beach, Galveston Island, Texas. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.
East Beach, Galveston Island, Texas at low tide is a magical place: a place equally suited for a biology or geology field trip. Gorgeous bedforms of a dozen kinds—those structures formed by the action of water on sediments like ripple marks and dunes—bring back memories of sedimentology classes many moons ago. Running around on theses surfaces (or occasionally trying to pry a recalcitrant worm from the sand and mud) are the sandpipers.
Dunlin(Calidris alpina) at East Beach, Galveston Island Texas. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
In their winter colors, the smallest ones, Sanderlings, Dunlins, Least Sandpipers, and Western Sandpipers sometimes test the birder’s ability to distinguish one species from another. In this endeavor, behavior is often just as good a guide to identification as are the details of appearance.
Sanderlings are perhaps the most charming and easiest to identify of the sandpiper clan as they chase the waves as they drain back out to sea, plucking stranded invertebrates and detritus as they go. Dunlins typically poke about at the strand line, and Western Sandpipers often explore the puddles of the intertidal zone. Least Sandpipers tend to probe for food along the margins of vegetation.
Sanderling(Calidris alba)in Frosty Winter Colors at East Beach, Galveston Island, Texas. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
Although I tend to notice sandpipers most often in intertidal habitats, all of these birds can also be found in freshwater and terrestrial environments such as the margins of lakes, flooded fields, and freshwater marshes. All birds mentioned in this post are still common, but Dunlin and Sanderlings are declining in numbers, mainly due to human use (and misuse) of beaches and other coastal habitats . . . yet another tragic tale of our time.
Least Sandpiper (Calidris minutilla) in a freshwater marsh, Pilant Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Thanks to TE for pointing out these little fellows. High-speed synchronized flash.
Someday, after mastering the winds, the waves, the tides and gravity, we shall harness for God the energies of love, and then, for a second time in the history of the world, man will have discovered fire.—Pierre Teilhard de Chardin
Great Egret Preening over Nest with Eggs at Smith Oaks Rookery, High Island, Texas. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural Light.
Being from Minnesota, I am usually only reluctantly looking forward to spring in Texas—mainly because the summer swelter soon follows. But this winter, the weather (mostly drizzle, fog, mist, clouds; rain) has been so appalling that I am definitely looking forward to spring more than most years. In addition to watching out for migrants, primarily at the migrant traps like Lafitte’s Cove, High Island, Sabine Woods, etc., we’ll be on the lookout for nesting birds, eggs and babies. And the Texas Gulf Coast is a great place for rookeries . . .
Roseate Spoonbill on Nest at Smith Oaks Rookery, High Island, Texas. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
One of the best rookeries for observation and photography, of course, is the Smith Oaks Rookery on High Island. I have not been there since buying our 600mm f/4L, though. Some of the nests at Smith Oaks are just a little too far for optimum results with a 500mm lens, so I am looking forward to what can be gained with the extra focal length.
Unfortunately, two problems exist at Smith Oaks: crowding and mosquitos. Although not quite as bad as a shopping mall the day before Christmas, High Island can be quite crowded and not all birders are quite civilized. Some birders seem insistent that photographers stay in the “designated tripod photography areas, ” while some others feel free to stand around in those areas without taking pictures. In any case, listening to the snarky comments while swatting mosquitos may be amusing. Or not.
Juvenile Reddish Egret near Brazoria National Wildlife Refuge, Texas. By early summer, there are generally lots of young birds out and about near the many coastal rookeries. Photo taken from a boat. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
We must let go of the life we have planned, so as to accept the one that is waiting for us.—Joseph Campbell
White-faced Ibis With Bulb or Tuber Being Shadowed by Common Moorhen at Pilant Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas. These tubers or bulbs are apparently worth fighting over. This sneaky little Common Moorhen stole the poor Ibis’s snack! Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
Despite often gloomy and dismal weather and optical conditions, the marshy south flank of Pilant Lake near the observation tower at Brazos Bend State Park, Texas has been an exciting place for birders this winter. In addition to the usual suspects present during winter, American Pipits, Wilson’s Snipes, American Bitterns, Song Sparrows, Least Sandpipers, and a Solitary Sandpiper have been spotted in the vicinity. What’s more, interesting bird behavior and interactions have been common lately, and I’ve made inter- and intra-species conflicts and confrontations the theme of my photos for this post. There are, for example, so many Wilson’s Snipes around that they’re getting into each other’s business: violations of personal space result in displays as shown below.
Shall We Dance? Wilson’s Snipe Confrontation at Pilant Lake, Brazos Bend State Park. Canon 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
The south side of Pilant Lake is also one of the best spots to photograph wader hunting behavior that I know. This winter has been no exception. Two weeks ago a Great Blue Heron is reported to have taken a large siren (Siren intermedia), a very large salamander, from immediately north of the observation tower. As a result, I spent a few hours stalking a Great Blue in that area the day after the report, but I only saw the bird catch frogs. Maybe next time.
Great Blue Heron With Frog at Pilant Lake, Brazos Bend State park, Texas. After repeatedly pecking this unfortunate frog, the heron ultimately rejected it and walked off. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.
The passions are the same in every conflict, large or small.—Mason Cooley
Least Bittern with Fish (Darter?) at McFaddin National Wildlife Refuge, Texas. A prized sighting not because Least Bitterns are rare, but because they are secretive. They may be quite common . . . it’s hard to tell. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
Of the heron, egret and bittern family, the two species of North American bitterns are the most secretive. When spotted, their slow, precise, almost machine-like stalking behavior is mesmerizing to watch. Sometimes bitterns seem acutely aware of the photographer’s every breath and muscle-twitch, and sometimes they are completely oblivious to observers and go about their hunting as if they alone occupied the planet.
Least Bitterns summer in the eastern U.S., including the Gulf Coast, and American Bitterns winter along the Gulf Coast—so for the Texas birder, the possibility (at least) exists for seeing bitterns throughout much of the year.
Beauty Shot: Least Bittern at McFaddin National Wildlife Refuge, Texas. Sometimes even the most secretive birds cooperate. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
Of the two bittern species, the American Bittern has the more cryptic coloration, I think. Many times I have had to double-take when I first noticed one–especially if the bird had adopted its neck-straight-up “I’m-a-clump-of-marsh-vegetation pose.” Least Bitterns are also difficult to see among marsh vegetation and have been known to sway back and forth to mimic the gentle motion of vegetation tussled by the wind. These are clearly creatures that do not want to be noticed.
American Bittern Out in the Open at Pilant Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
It’s hard to recommend a place to see bitterns in the Houston area. The south side of Pilant Lake at Brazos Bend State Park is the most reliable spot to see American Bitterns I know. But in many visits to that area, I’ve only seen a Least Bittern once. And that’s how I would characterize my experience with Least Bitterns: I’ve seen them many places once.
Calls of both species of bitterns are distinctive enough to know when they’re around, even if they are invisible, especially the Least Bittern’s rather monkey-like (to my ear) coo-coo-coo. Least Bitterns are also easy to spot in flight, given their heron-style of flight and rufous markings—but once they’re back in the reeds, it’s good-bye, Charlie!
Move along! Move along—nothing to see here! What you normally get in the way of bittern photos: cryptic American Bittern at Brazos Bend State Park, Texas. This bird soon slowly turned and skulked off into the marsh. Canon EOS 7D/500mm F/4L IS (+1/4x TC). Natural light.
Don’t wait to be hunted to hide, that was always my motto. —Samuel Beckett, Molloy
Too big? Tricolored Heron with Warmouth at Alligator Point, Myakka River State Park, Florida. Alligator Point is on an oxbow lake. After trying to swallow the fish a few times, this bird eventually gave up and walked away. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light on a dark, gloomy day.
Over the past week we were able to spend a few days at Myakka River State Park (MRSP) in western Florida near Sarasota. We were struck immediately by similarities to Brazos Bend State Park, Texas (BBSP). Both are subtropical low-relief state parks centered around rivers and lakes. The winter water bird avifaunas are also similar–with a few exceptions, Wood Storks and Double-crested Cormorants having the most conspicuously different abundances at the two parks.
Over the years I have only seen one Wood Stork at BBSP. On the other hand, Wood Storks proved to be common at MRSP during our stay, and we were able to observe them in flight overhead, underwing hunting/fishing and “wing flashing” (herding aquatic prey by waving a wing) at Alligator Point. The oxbow lake at Alligator Point provides the birder or photographer an excellent vantage point to observe bird behavior deep off the beaten track—but watch out for poison ivy! Pied-billed Grebes are present in small numbers (relative to BBSP) at MRSP, but Double-crested Cormorants are abundant and making a living the way the grebes do at BBSP, namely diving after prey in shallow freshwater lakes.
Double-crested Cormorant at Alligator Point, Myakka State Park, Florida. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
The prey are conspicuously different at these two parks, however. At this time of year at BBSP the birds seem to be consuming a mix of fish, amphibians (frogs and salamanders), and arthropods. At MRSP we only saw fish being taken–several species of gar, Tilapia, bass, and small catfish . . . although one Great Blue Heron was convinced he had a snake or Amphiuma salamander and pecked a poor stick to bits! The absence of crawfish prey struck me as remarkable, and I asked a ranger about it. He said that during the dry season, the crawfish remain in their burrows. Perhaps when the rains return and some the low-lying areas flood again, crawfish will be on the water bird menu.
In general, our time in western Florida has brought up a number of fascinating topics for thought, research, and future travel plans that will no doubt be discussed in this blog at some point in time. How are Tilapia (an invasive), for example, impacting the environment generally and wader diets in particular. Also, where are the amphibians? Could we be seeing another example of the global amphibian crisis? These questions make me want to bird this amazing park during other times of the year.
Double Wing Fishing(?) Wood Stork at Alligator Point, Myakka River State Park, Florida. By creating a shadow, the under-wing-fisher can better see through the glare and spot prey beneath the surface. Reddish Egrets are best known for this technique, but this Wood Stork appeared to be using the same approach. The Wood Stork is considered an Endangered Species by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
My parents didn’t want to move to Florida, but they turned sixty and that’s the law.–Jerry Seinfeld
Portrait: Female Mottled Duck at Rockport, Texas. Male and female Mottled Ducks are quite similar looking. Females have an orangish bill (often with varying degrees of black mottling, especially near the base), whereas males tend to have more yellowish bills without black mottles. This female’s bill is relatively free of black mottles. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized flash.Portrait: Male Mottled Duck. Male Mottled Ducks are sometimes described as having “cleaner” faces than the females. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized flash.
Over the Thanksgiving holiday we took a short road trip to Corpus Christi and environs, specifically with the hopes of seeing ducks, waders, and shorebirds. At Rockport, Texas I observed a small group of Mottled Ducks hanging around in the shadows under a dock. We see Mottled Ducks from time to time, but seeing these birds up close got me to reading more about them: they are unusual for a number of reasons. These dabblers are rather drab and show little sexual dimorphism relative to some other ducks. They are also non-migratory and reproduce in Southern marshes, rather than at higher latitudes like most other North American ducks.
Their status is of “least concern,” although their estimated numbers are only in the tens of thousands in Texas, a major part of their range. Mottled Ducks do have an unusually limited geographic range, essentially around the Gulf of Mexico, across Florida, and with an introduced population in South Carolina. There are actually two subspecies of Mottled Ducks: Anas fulvigula maculosa (Alabama to Veracruz, Mexico) and A. f. fulvigula (Florida). Numerous references suggest that Mottled Ducks, like many species, are under threat from habitat destruction such as the draining of marshes. Conventional wisdom has it that habitat destruction is more of a threat than human hunting—although seeing internet images of piles of shotgun-blast killed Mottled Ducks leads me to question that. Apparently some duck hunters collect bands, and Mottled Ducks are a heavily banded species (about 5%) thus making them a popular target.
Mottled Ducks are part of the “Mallard complex,” a group of approximately 20 closely-related species and subspecies of ducks. As a result, Mottled Ducks face another unusual challenge: gene flow from feral introduced Mallards. These “pen-raised” released and escapee Mallards generally do not migrate to northern breeding grounds. Naturally sexually aggressive male feral Mallards are interbreeding with local Mottled Ducks, thus undermining the genetic isolation of the latter and producing infertile hybrids. This problem is most significant in Florida, leading some to fear for the extinction of the Florida subspecies, although there are reports of hybrids from other areas, including Texas.
Only time will tell if the relentless crush of human ecological trouble-making will spare these lovely creatures.
Are their best days behind them? Mated Pair of Mottled Ducks at Lafitte’s Cove, Galveston Island, Texas. Male and female Mottled Ducks are easy to tell apart at a distance. In addition to different bill color, females tend to have a darker, more distinct eye-line and sometimes a more distinct black “fleck” just behind and below the eye, which at a distance can almost resemble a tear-drop. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.
I want to interpret the natural world and our links to it. It’s driven by the belief of many world-class scientists that we’re in the midst of an extinction crisis… This time it’s us that’s doing it.–Frans Lanting
Black Skimmers in Flight at East Beach, Galveston Island, Texas. Surely one of the most otherworldly creatures in Texas. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
By late fall, most traces of punishing summer have gone, and the bird photographer can think more about birds and light and less about heat, mosquitos, chiggers, and biting flies.
Great Egret in Flight atDos Vacas Muertas, Galveston Island, Texas. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
On some seasonal days, cold weather high altitude cirrus clouds–diaphanous veils of ice crystals–act like natural diffusers, reducing glare without sacrificing vibrance of color. This cool winter light is perfect for shorebird colors: black, white, and shades of gray. Even on dreary cumulonimbus days, when light is not optimal, chill breezes keep land and sea fresh and invigorated, and this glory shall persist until . . . March.
Sanderling Showdown at East Beach, Galveston Island, Texas. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
Clouds come floating into my life, no longer to carry rain or usher storm, but to add color to my sunset sky.–Rabindranath Tagore, Stray Birds
Male Blue Dasher Dragonfly (Pachydiplax longipennis) in Obelisk Posture, Houston, Texas. Photo taken on a broiling late July afternoon. This posture has been implicated in territorial displays and thermoregulation. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.
Certain living organisms conjure scenes of the past in my paleontologist’s brain. Seeing a pelican skimming the crests of waves over Galveston Bay spark thoughts of pterosaurs gliding above the Cretaceous Niobraran Sea of western Kansas. Dragonflies bring visions of sweltering Late Paleozoic coal swamps teeming with monstrous arthropods.
Despite knowing that some insects are endothermic (“warm-blooded”) and are active over a wide range of temperatures, I was surprised to see a variety of active dragonflies on a recent chilly mid-November day at Lafitte’s Cove, Galveston Island, Texas. Perhaps this surprise was because of my bias toward thinking of dragonflies as a hot weather phenomenon.
In general, dragonflies fall into two types: “flyers” and “perchers.” Flyers like Green Darners (Anax junius)are endotherms, their elevated body temperatures largely the result of physiological processes supporting their highly active lifestyles. Perchers like Blue Dashers typically are closer to what are commonly called ectotherms, or “cold-blooded” organisms. These creatures regulate their body temperatures primarily through behavioral mechanisms like basking in the sun to raise body temperature, or conversely, as in the case of Blue Dashers, adopting the “obelisk posture.” In the obelisk posture, the abdomen is pointed toward the sun, thus decreasing the profile illuminated by the sun.
In any case, a major source of avian nutrition has stretched much deeper into the cool weather than I expected—and with it my dragonfly photography!
Female Blue Dasher Dragonfly on a Chilly Morning at Lafitte’s Cove, Galveston Island, Texas in mid-November. The temperature was in the upper 40’s ℉. I have seen these same insects acting more or less the same—alternately basking and hunting—on days when the temperature was well over 100℉. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
“I tried to discover, in the rumor of forests and waves, words that other men could not hear, and I pricked up my ears to listen to the revelation of their harmony.”—Gustave Flaubert, November
Gaping Snowy Egret at Elm Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas. This bird spent the morning on the shore shadowing Pied-billed Grebes as they hunted. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
Snowy Egrets are known for shuffling their bright yellow feet in the shallow water to scare up dinner. This summer I also caught one employing a bubble-blowing hunting technique to attract invertebrates and small fish.
On Saturday (11/2) at Elm Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas I noticed another Snowy Egret fishing/hunting strategy that was new to me–and one that also involves scaring up prey. The egret shown above tracked Pied-billed Grebes back and forth as they chased fish and crawfish in the shallows, perhaps 3-4 feet from the shore. Likely fish and invertebrates scatter as grebes go swimming past–and likely this egret was making use of this to pick off prey responding to the grebes. During this shadowing behavior, the egret was quite good at predicting just where the grebe would surface. Perhaps the grebes were visible, at least sometimes, from the egret’s vantage point? Or was this wader ESP? In any case, the egret would often dash to a position on the shore closest to where the Grebe would suddenly emerge from the water.
Commensalism, a symbiosis in which one organism benefits and another is largely unaffected, is likely the label an ecologist would place on the above relationship. But could it be mutalism? Did the grebes benefit from the presence of the egret? Perhaps the egret could have revealed the presence of predators lurking in the shallows or the weeds? Did the grebes have one eye out on a friend on the shore who might signal (through behavior) the presence of an alligator lurking on the shore otherwise undetected? Or a nasty old alligator gar floating, log-like in the shallows? Perhaps the egret chased prey items (like plump juicy frogs) from the shoreline into the water? Food for thought.
Pied-billed Grebe with Red Swamp Crawfish at Elm Lake, Brazos Bend State Park. Note the large blob of water frozen in mid-air by high shutter speed as this grebe engaged in an epic struggle with a crawfish one-third its size. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
Competition has been shown to be useful up to a certain point and no further, but cooperation, which is the thing we must strive for today, begins where competition leaves off.–FDR
Osprey in Flight, East Beach, Galveston Island, Texas. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC): ISO 640, 0 EV, f/9, 1/2500, tripod; IS Mode 2.
The best technique for shooting birds in flight (BIF) arguably involves spotting a bird at distance and then tracking it in the viewfinder until it fills a significant part of the frame. For this technique to be employed, the photographer must be able to predictably track the bird over a long distance without significant obstructions. A large number of birds following along a similar glide path is also helpful. Because of these requirements, getting BIF shots is highly dependent upon a special place.
Wave Skimmer: Brown Pelican in Flight at East Beach, Galveston Island, Texas. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC): ISO 500, 0 EV, f/9, 1/3200, tripod, IS Mode 2.
East Beach, Galveston is such a place. Numerous shorebirds and waders typically fly parallel to the shore. Obstructions are few–mainly ships that appear in the background. The morning sun is at your back while you shoot toward the sea. And after a blue norther, with a cold wind in your face the place is . . . paradise.
Snowy Egret in Flight, East Beach, Galveston Island, Texas. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC): ISO 500, 0 EV, f/9, 1/3200, tripod; IS Mode 2
The sea is everything. It covers seven tenths of the terrestrial globe. Its breath is pure and healthy. It is an immense desert, where man is never lonely, for he feels life stirring on all sides.–Jules Verne
Portrait: Pine Warbler. Pine Warblers were the only warblers that I saw at Lafitte’s Cove, Galveston Island last weekend (10/26). Canon EOS 7D/600 f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.
Lafitte’s Cove, Galveston Island was a-hoppin’ with half a dozen warbler species the weekend before last (10/19), but last weekend (10/26) only Pine Warblers were in attendance. Technically a “partial migrant,” Pine Warblers winter on the Upper Texas Gulf Coast–one of only a few warbler species that do so. We have, once again, arrived at a time when the Neotropical migrants are mostly back or well on their way back to the tropics.
Likewise, intracontinental migrants are still moving through or settling into their winter Texas homes. Of these North American wanderers, I most look forward to the ducks and can’t wait to hit their hot spots along the Texas Coast like Rockport, the Hans and Pat Suter Wildlife Refuge City Park (Corpus Christi), and the Birding Center on South Padre Island. Loons and grebes, too, will soon begin arriving in Galveston Bay and environs, imparting a definite northern feel to the coastal Texas waterscape.
Munching Seeds: Female Indigo Bunting at Lafitte’s Cove, Galveston Island, Texas. Indigo Buntings accompanied the latest wave of migrating warblers to hit the Texas Gulf Coast. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.
“When you’re young you prefer the vulgar months, the fullness of the seasons. As you grow older you learn to like the in-between times, the months that can’t make up their minds. Perhaps it’s a way of admitting that things can’t ever bear the same certainty again.” ― Julian Barnes, Flaubert’s Parrot
