Philosophical Musings

Birding from Lodges

Posted July 4, 2015 by Chris Cunningham

Laugh? I though I’d never start . . .

Northern Flicker (Red-shafted), MacGregor Mountain Lodge, Colorado — *Female Northern Flicker (Red-shafted Form),* MacGregor Mountain Lodge, Colorado. Elisa has visited this wonderful lodge before, but this was my first stay. The surrounding grounds are a wonderland of cavity-nesting. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

For me, birding has been a refuge and salvation from the trials and tribulations of life. In today’s world, though, a simple commercial flight to a birding destination can be a trial, too. On the return flight from our last birding trip to Colorado, for example, United Airlines temporarily lost one of our big suitcases . . . .

Now, normally a lost suitcase would not be a big deal, but in this particular case the bag contained two carbon fiber tripods and gimbal mounts, and pair of binoculars–about $3500 worth of equipment that we use all the time and couldn’t just replace at Walmart. The quest to retrieve the bag started out ominously: The United Airlines guy who is in charge of finding lost suitcases at the Houston International Airport told me it was “pointless” to look for our suitcase! Pointless!

Getting the suitcase back turned out to be even more of a headache that one would imagine because United Airlines handed the recovery of the bag over to another company (WheresMySuitcase.com), that in turn handed it over to yet another company!

Neither of these other two companies had working telephone numbers, or (apparently) any employees who could read, write, tell time, or operate a telephone or computer. One of the people we had to talk to in the course of this adventure was in India! One of the phone numbers we were given by United to reach one of the other companies (who can remember which?) turned out to belong to a scooter store! I couldn’t make this stuff up!

After navigating a web of nuttiness we eventually got the bag back–with a TSA inspection tag inside . . . Now, what does any of this diatribe have to do with birding from lodges?

Curve-billed Thrasher, Cave Creek Ranch, Portal, Arizona — *Curve-billed Thrasher,* Cave Creek Ranch, Portal, Arizona. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.

Simple. The lodges from which we bird tend to be owned and operated by individuals, mom and pop teams, or at worst, small companies. The owners/operators live in the area, and many of them really know the local birds and where to find them. They care if you come back! They care about what you say to your friends about the place! It’s nothing short of great and a huge break from corporate America and its legions of know-nothings.

Over the years we have found a few really neat, highly recommendable lodges. The three that spring to mind are Cave Creek Ranch (Arizona), Casa Santa Ana (Rio Grande Valley), and my new discovery, MacGregor Mountain Lodge. What they all have in common is extensive grounds to bird and proximity to fabulous parks. Sometimes you have to stay in the run-of-the-mill corporate-owned accommodations (unless the global economy collapses, my camping days are over!), but it’s usually really worth the extra effort to seek out a lodge from which to bird.

Although the whole missing bag thing really stressed me out, I’m trying hard to take something positive from the story. Perhaps a deeper consideration of the problem of supertelephoto lenses and airlines that continues to plague wildlife photographers will lead to a solution. One possibility I’ve been considering it shipping the tripods and mounts to the lodges. Statistically, UPS and Fedex are far more dependable than the airlines at handling packages. I know that many photo-birders have simply given up on airline travel with big glass, but If any readers have solved the airline problem, I and many others, would love to hear about it!

Hooded Oriole, Casa Santa Ana, Rio Grande Valley, South Texas — *Hooded Oriole,* Casa Santa Ana, Rio Grande Valley, South Texas. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.

Of Quails and Men

Posted June 13, 2015 by Chris Cunningham

These are the good old days. In a situation that’s constantly deteriorating, it’s always the good old days.—Chris Cunningham (paraphrase of J. Phillips)

Young Scaled Quail Pair, Franklin Mountains State Park, West Texas — *Young Scaled Quail Pair,* Franklin Mountains State Park, West Texas. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

As I look out my front window at the giant piles of uncollected debris from the recent flood in southwest Houston, I got to thinking about quails . . . .

Many wildlife biologists are concerned about populations of all six types of North American quails. Numbers of individuals of dry-adapted species of quails such as Montezuma, Gambel’s and Scaled, rise and fall with drought and rainy years as expected, but these concerns transcend impacts due to changes in the weather.

For example, in the Southwest biologists have been noticing incursions of scrub-inhabiting quails into the suburban landscape, presumably foraging for food. The sprawl of tract housing and all that accompanies it means that the “empty” expanses of desert and scrublands are dwindling and our lovely xeric creatures are under pressure.

So, what’s the connection between giant piles of uncollected garbage and quails? Well, it seems to me that humanity can have any world it wants. Man has elected to live in a world of materialistic clutter, jammed with ephemeral consumer trash soon to be in a landfill. For this we are giving away (say exterminating) nature and paving over the land.

To alter this course will require nothing less than a new great awakening . . . .

Female Gambel's Quail, Franklin Mountains State Park, West Texas — *Female Gambel’s Quail,* Franklin Mountains State Park, West Texas. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

The Traveling Birder

Posted January 17, 2015 by Chris Cunningham

We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.—T.S. Eliot

Male Dark-eyed Junco (Oregon Race), Olympic Peninsula, Washington — *Male Dark-eyed Junco (Oregon Race),* Olympic Peninsula, Washington. This beauty was just standing around crunching sunflower seeds at a Lake Quinault Lodge feeder. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

Endless weeks of gray skies and cold, dreary rain have meant not much field work of late. The birding hobby, during these times, then, becomes one of reading and poking around in our photo archives. The reading and research, naturally, turns to travel planning . . . fantasies of birding the forests of Hawaii led to a re-reading of the heartbreaking (human-caused) decimations, extirpations, and extinctions of Hawaii’s endemic birds in The Song of the Dodo and a re-perusal of Hawaii’s Birds. Is two days on Maui time enough to find an I’iwi? What about an ‘Apapane?

Young Male Lazuli Bunting, Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming — *Young Male Lazuli Bunting in Meadow,* Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming. This colorful fellow (as well as the next two birds) was munching dandelion seeds suspiciously on a stunning meadow . . . right in front of the Old Faithful Inn. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

Besides a respite from the horrors of the Houston climate, travel allows the easy finding of new birds, especially relatively human-tolerant seed eaters. Many times I have been driving through a strange place only to be thrilled by what I’m seeing at bird feeders in people’s suburban yards! Travel has the power to make seeing new species easy . . . well, easy in one sense and difficult in others. Easy in that you are within the ranges of common birds that don’t occur at home, but difficult in that you have to get somewhere new.

Cassin's Finch, Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming — *Male Cassin’s Finch with Dandelion Seed,* Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

Travel these days is rarely a pleasant experience, especially if one has to fly commercially. Many commentators have remarked about what used to be a pleasant, civilized experience (1980’s and before) has degenerated into little more than a ride in a flying cattle car. Carrying a large amount of photographic equipment dramatically raises the stress level, too (binoculars, anyone?).

Equipment must be divvied up amongst several bags so as not run afoul of airline rules or restrictions. Normally our 500 and 600mm super telephotos live together in our Gura Gear Kiboko bag. This bag, with both lenses, weighs 31 pounds—over the carry-on weight limit for many airlines, including Hoi Polloi Airlines, the one we normally fly. I’m always apprehensive about getting bags jammed with optics and electronics through the faux airport security, and I steel myself for a possible confrontation with government apparatchiks who don’t know what the innards of a 600EX-RT are supposed to look like.

Driving isn’t much better. In 2012 over 33,000 were killed on U.S. highways (in addition to the hundreds of thousands who were merely terrorized or maimed during wrecks), but apparently no level of carnage is sufficient to make the maniacs put down their cell phones, stop boozing, and slow down. But once I’m somewhere else. . . I soon realize that the destination is worth all the fears and hassles.

Female Cassin's Finch with Dandelion, Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming — *Female Cassin’s Finch with Dandelion Head,* Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

The land created me. I’m wild and lonesome. Even as I travel the cities, I’m more at home in the vacant lots.—Bob Dylan

Birding Resolutions 2015

Posted January 3, 2015 by Two Shutterbirds

It is always during a passing state of mind that we make lasting resolutions.—Marcel Proust

Singing Marsh Wren at the Freeport Wetlands, Texas — *Singing Marsh Wren in Winter* at the Freeport Wetlands Nature Trail and Bird Observatory, Texas. Male Marsh Wrens start imitating songs at 15 days old and continue learning new songs into and throughout adulthood. Could this little guy be practicing his repertoire for a return to his breeding grounds and Courtship 2015? Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

Elisa’s Resolution. I absolutely love welcoming in a New Year! I love the “fresh start” feeling—artificial though it may be. I’m also a sucker for an annual plan (I’m the first-born: It’s not my fault!), but only as a scaffold for investigation, adventure, and inspiration. I don’t really DO traditional resolutions because, well, life happens. However, in recognition of flipping the page on the ol’ Gregorian calendar, there are a few beams I’d like to add to the birding and blogging scaffold this year. In the spirit of our friend the Marsh Wren, I plan to get serious about learning more bird songs and to share my experiences in the field more often. If you’re a regular reader, you know that I am an infrequent contributor. (Frequently behind the lens, but not so much the keyboard.) Thankfully, Chris holds down an excellent fort, and hopefully, I’ll lighten his load a bit more this year.

Chris’s Resolution. With the new year comes a time of reflection and goal-setting. When I started the bird photography hobby, I thought of the camera primarily as a tool to better learn birds and document what I saw in the field. But photography, like many technical pursuits, has a way of taking on a life of it’s own. A perusal of the major digital photography blogs, for example, will show how pixel-peeping and endless hand-wringing about high-ISO noise and yadda-yadda-yadda can bleed the life right out of the birding-by-camera hobby (and which is better Canon or Nikon?). I guess gadget-talk is more amenable to the American norm of sowing insecurities to peddle a fix and turn a buck, but I want to get back to birds! I resolve to pick up the ornithology references more and the photography references less. Maybe, once and a while, I’ll leave the 600mm ball-and-chain behind and only take along the binoculars and a notebook (and most important of all—Elisa!).

Snow Geese in Formation over Freeport Wetlands, Texas — *Snow Geese in V-Formation* over Freeport Wetlands, Texas. The V shape greatly reduces drag force on the skein, making long-distance migrations energetically feasible. It’s all about turbulent flow! Note the nearly even split of white and blue phases (morphs). The ratio of color morphs varies from colony to colony. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

“I am an old man now, and when I die and go to heaven there are two matters on which I hope for enlightenment. One is quantum electrodynamics, and the other is the turbulent motion of fluids. And about the former I am rather optimistic.”–Horace Lamb

Birding the Slow Stretches

Posted November 8, 2014 by Chris Cunningham

Young Pied-billed Grebe, Elm Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas — *Young Pied-billed Grebe*, Elm Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas. Birds this young utilize different hunting techniques than fully adult birds and show vestiges of their striped juvenile plumage. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.

Things are slow now. Along the Texas Gulf Coast, we are in a time of transition within a time of transition. Most of the songbirds have moved through, but we still await the big waves of waterfowl. Some wintering shorebirds have arrived including Long-billed Curlews, and Least and Spotted Sandpipers. Sandhill Cranes can occasionally be heard and seen overhead, and there are a few ducks paddling around here and there. The numbers of Blue-winged Teal are increasing, and a few Ring-necked Ducks are about. On the big plus side, everywhere we’ve gone over the past week or so was mercifully free of biting insects.

During such slow times I have to focus on more detailed observations of familiar species. Last weekend at Brazos Bend, for example, Pied-billed Grebes were visible in unusually large numbers. Small groups of three or four birds were scattered across Elm Lake. One cluster contained three adult birds and a youngster, shown above. The youngster hunted in a different fashion than the adults. It paddled around on the surface and dunked its head and neck below the surface to search for prey (rather like a loon!). As always, the adults settled into the surface of the water and then dove, reappearing a few seconds later. But big prey was not on the menu that day. I watched for an hour or so hoping to witness an epic battle with a big fish, frog, or crawfish, but I saw only insects being consumed.

Young female Ring-billed Duck, east pond, Lafitte's Cove, Galveston Island, Texas — *A Lone Young Female Ring-necked Duck*, east pond, Lafitte’s Cove, Galveston Island, Texas. A white ring on the bill has just started to appear. Gentle paddling produced a subtle wake of crescents. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.

A visit to the drippers and environs at Lafitte’s Cove last week yielded few avian sightings. I spotted a few Ruby-crowned Kinglets, a Pine Warbler or two, and a few Northern Mockingbirds. The ponds were nearly as unproductive. I noted Mottled Ducks and a single Ring-necked Duck, and I played hide-and-seek with a deeply distrustful Marsh Wren.

Spotted Sandpiper in nonbreeding plumage, Frenchtown Road, Bolivar Peninsula, Texas — *Spotted Sandpiper in Non-breeding Plumage*, Frenchtown Road, Bolivar Peninsula, Texas. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.

Frenchtown Road, Bolivar yielded a lone Spotted Sandpiper that strutted and posed along the remains of a floating wrecked wooden structure for an extended photo shoot. Overall, I saw the usual mix of winter waders and shorebirds, including a bathing Long-billed Curlew. Again, nothing unusual. Come on birds! Where are all you oddballs?

Widow's tears, Lafitte's Cove, Galveston Island, Texas — *Widow’s tears (*Commelina sp.), Lafitte’s Cove, Galveston Island, Texas. In fall, widow’s tears bloom only in the morning. Canon EOS 7D/100mm f/2.8L IS Macro (+25mm extension tube II). High-speed synchronized ring-flash.

When no birds were to be seen (and this was most of the time), I turned my lenses on insects and flowers. Elm Lake was ablaze with brilliant yellow Bidens aurea. I am still experimenting with my new 25mm extension tube. This week I discovered the arthropod macrophotography of Thomas Shahan, an Oklahoma artist who has been getting extraordinary results with some rather modest equipment—clearly an impetus to up my own macro game. I even ordered a few new minor gadgets to help out with macro. Overall, I am still waiting for something weird to happen . . . .

Variegated Meadowhawk, Lafitte's Cove, Galveston Island, Texas — *Variegated Meadowhawk (*Sympetrum corruptum), Lafitte’s Cove, Galveston Island, Texas. Lafitte’s Cove is almost as good for dragonflies as it is for migrating birds. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.

The invariable mark of wisdom is to see the miraculous in the common.—Ralph Waldo Emerson

Finding Those Unappreciated Sparrows (by Accident)

Posted November 1, 2014 by Chris Cunningham

Nelson's Sharp-tailed Sparrow, Frenchtown Road, Bolivar Peninsula, Texas — *Nelson’s Sharp-tailed Sparrow*, Frenchtown Road, Bolivar Peninsula, Texas. This bird was moving through seed-laden grasses with a group of Seaside Sparrows. Photo taken at about 7:30 am under a beautiful golden fall light. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4 TC).

Last weekend we birded High Island (Boy Scout Woods), Bolivar Flats, and Frenchtown Road. Frenchtown Road is an exceptional spot, and almost always the highlight of any Bolivar trip. It is a great spot for Clapper Rails, Whimbrel, and waders and shorebirds hunting prey, especially crustaceans. But, (rather unexpectedly) grass seed-head-chomping Nelson’s Sharp-tailed Sparrows were the highlight of this visit. Nelson’s Sharp-tailed Sparrows breed mostly in Canada, winter along the Gulf Coast, and are not a common sight in Texas—at least not where we usually bird.

Rufous-crowned Sparrow, Lost Maples State Natural Area, Texas — *Rufous-crowned Sparrow on Mountain Laurel*, Lost Maples State Natural Area, Texas. This bird was spotted on the way to find Golden-cheeked Warblers, which we found a few minutes later. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

Sparrows, in general, may be the least appreciated of birds, and I myself am often guilty of not affording them the respect they deserve. It’s rare for us to plan a trip around sparrows. This is despite their ecological importance and often beautiful earth-tone color schemes. We usually have more glamorous species in mind, like the rock stars of the birding world, the wood warblers when we plan birding trips. I spotted the the Rufous-crowned Sparrow above, for example, on a Central Texas trip centered around finding Golden-cheeked Warblers. Of course, It wouldn’t have hurt our feeling to have spotted Black-capped Vireos, too.

In my own defense, though, we do make an annual pilgrimage to Barfoot Park, in the Coronado National Forest, Arizona to see Yellow-eyed Juncos, an American Sparrow you’re not going to find by accident. Of course, it wouldn’t hurt my feelings to see a few Hepatic Tanagers while we’re there . . . .

*Not Rare, but Secretive: Grasshopper Sparrow,* Galveston Island State Park, Texas. Grasshopper Sparrows get their name from the grasshopper-like sounds they make. They’re not a sparrow one sees every day in this part of the world. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

I don’t believe in accidents. There are only encounters in history. There are no accidents.—Pablo Picasso

The Dog Days of Summer Roll On and On

Posted September 13, 2014 by Chris Cunningham

Black-necked Stilt in Late Summer at Anahuac National Wildlife Refuge, Texas — *Black-necked Stilt in Late Summer 2011* at Anahuac National Wildlife Refuge, Texas. The broiling, buggy coastal marshes where these birds summer can test the resolve of the birder. But what a cool-looking bird! Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC).

During the past few weeks we haven’t been going out into the field much due to the weather. The dog days of summer are a bit hard to stomach along the Upper Texas Gulf Coast. Patchy rain storms, interspersed with blistering sun, temperatures in the 90’s and dew points in the upper 70’s—not to mention clouds of winged bloodsuckers—can make for tough going. A sense of humor is definitely required.

Driving to High Island last week, passing the turn to Anahauc National Wildlife Refuge I just shook my my head, imagining the bugs. We visited Frenchtown Road, though, on the Bolivar Peninsula, and through the windows of the truck it looked very promising. In fact, Elisa saw a family of Clapper Rails with four young, a first for her. Recent heavy rains and high tide, though, meant everything was soaked and exuding humidity. The instant we opened the truck doors, the cab was flooded with mosquitos. The cloud stayed with the vehicle (in the bed) as we drove away, and even remained as we waited for the ferry to cross to Galveston!

Clapper Rail at McFaddin National Wildlife Refuge, Texas — *Clapper Rail* at McFaddin National Wildlife Refuge, Texas. Clapper Rails breed in Coastal Texas marshes from late February through September and produce darling fluffy, black young. Frenchtown Road is the most reliable place we know to see Clappers. But for some reason we haven’t been able to get any first-class images there, yet. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

To further dampen our enthusiasm, at East Beach, Galveston, we found astronomical amounts of reeking, rotting seaweed still (summer stuff) covering the beach. Please! A fall storm to wash all this rubbish out to sea! At East Beach we nevertheless tried for some terns in flight. The conditions were strange to say the least: sweltering on the buggy beach in a dead calm shooting at 1/4000 sec with bright sun and simultaneous rain. In early September in Texas, I fantasize about being in the field without being smeared with blood, sweat, and bug parts! Ha!

A close friend and native Houstonian who recently retired to the hills of East Tennessee characterized the close of the Texas dog days best: during September one watches the weather reports from around the country with envious eyes and sees temperatures falling into the 70’s, then 60’s, then 50’s all the while Texas cooks on into month five. But things are changing in subtle ways. The days are decidedly shorter. There is some avian movement: We saw some Spotted Sandpipers at Sea Center Texas. A pair of Cooper’s Hawks has been hanging around our yard and communicating back and forth with their whistling calls. Flycatchers are passing through.

*Great Blue Heron in Flight Over 40-Acre Lake in Late Summer* at Brazos Bend State Park, Texas. Even BBSP, my favorite birding gem, needs a breath of fresh air by September. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.

So while the birding isn’t the best now, there is always research and planning for the future. Although I’m not much of a gear-head, I do read a lot of technical reports on photographic equipment in my spare time. I’m currently waiting to read the official specifications for the much-anticipated Canon EOS 7D Mark 2. What is available indicates not a quantum leap forward (no Foveon sensor!), but rather a series of incremental improvements in resolution, speed, etc.–which is a bit disappointing given the innovative products released during the past two years by Nikon (D800/D810) and Sony (a7R), especially as regards resolution. Perhaps I won’t be an early adopter when this new camera comes out later this year.

Finally, there’s always planning for a retirement that incorporates the seven lovely months in Texas. And they are lovely . . . and just around the corner.

“When action grows unprofitable, gather information; when information grows unprofitable, sleep.” —Ursula K. Le Guin, The Left Hand of Darkness

Birding for Tyrant Flycatchers of the Genus Tyrannus

Posted September 6, 2014 by Chris Cunningham

Scissor-tailed Flycatcher at Pelican Island, Texas — *The Most Spectacular Member of the* Tyrannus Clan: Scissor-tailed Flycatcher (T. forticatus) *on Pelican Island*, *Texas*. Exceptional in coloration and plumage, the Scissor-tailed Flycatcher is a stand-out among the relatively conservative-looking members of its genus. Scissor-tails prefer open, grassy environments with small clumps of trees from which to hunt. They also love to perch and hunt along barbed-wire fence lines and are a common sight in summer on the plains of the southern U.S. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.

The family Tyrannidae (Tyrant Flycatchers) is primarily a South American group. Of over 370 species, only 35 have ranges that extend far enough north to reach the United States. Eight genera of tyrant flycatchers occur in North America, north of Mexico. Considered by evolutionary biologists to be among the most primitive of songbirds, tyrannids are nevertheless highly successful, ranging from Patagonia, and even the Falkland and Galápagos Islands, to Canada. These birds occur across a wide variety of habitats, from bottomland forests to the high Andes.

Due to their bold personalities and active hunting behaviors, the Tyrant Flycatchers of the genus Tyrannus (kingbirds and kin) are some of the most exciting birds to watch. Exhibiting a rather limited palette of colors relative to some other songbirds, ranging primarily from browns and olives to gray on top (plus orange or red semi-concealed crown stripes for display), and a variety of shades of yellow below, species of Tyrannus may never be as popular as warblers with birders. But what they lack (usually) in terms of showy colors they make up for in personality and behavior.

Couch's Kingbird at Estero Llano Grande State Park, Texas — *Couch’s Kingbird* (Tyrannus couchii) *on Cable* at Estero Llano Grande State Park, Rio Grande Valley, Texas. This young bird showed no fear of me whatsoever, despite a close approach. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1/4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.

Other than the Great Kiskadee, perhaps, Kingbirds are the most conspicuous of the North American flycatchers. These large, aggressive birds will not tolerate being pushed around by other, larger birds like crows or even raptors. Although they will eat fruit and seeds during certain times of the year (depending on the Kingbird species), insects form an integral part of their diets.

From a perch, they will hawk large insects from the air above water or ground and also grab prey from the ground. The fact that they return again and again to a perch can make photography relatively easy and enjoyable. After locating an avian photographic subject, I often snap few frames, advance a few paces, snap a few frames, advance a few paces, and so on. Some bird species will flush as soon as they see a human. Others will hesitate until a particular distance is breeched (minimum approach distance). Tyrant flycatchers, too, eventually flee hesitantly into the air upon a close enough approach, but I can’t help feeling as though these bird are asking themselves: Do I really have to leave? Can I take this guy?

Cassin's Kingbird at Cave Creek Ranch, Arizona. — *Cassin’s Kingbird* (Tyrannus vociferans) *on Mesquite* at Cave Creek Ranch, Arizona. This bird flashed a bright orange (on top) and red (below) crown-stripe upon takeoff and could easily be confused for a Western Kingbird. Considering a number of other images together, however, the identification was based upon absence of bold white outer tail feather margins, lighter brownish wings with pale feather edges, and a crescent-shaped white patch or “mustache” below eye. In such similar species, though, there is room for uncertainty. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.

Although not as difficult to tell apart as some Empidonax Flycatchers, which are literally indistinguishable based on appearance alone, some species of Tyrannus are quite tricky to identify. Even based on a reasonably good photograph, experienced birders may disagree about the identity of a specific individual. Cassin’s and Western Kingbirds, for example, overlap in range in the West and are often confused. Likewise Couch’s, Tropical, and Western Kingbirds have overlapping ranges in the Lower Rio Grade Valley.

All these species, though, do have distinctive field marks and can in principle be distinguished. However, depending on the light and angle of view, colors can change. Vegetation can obscure minor or subtle features. In these troublesome cases, after exhausting reasonable avenues of identification, I try to live with the uncertainty–rather than decide which member of this sometimes look-a-like group I’ve spotted.

Eastern Kingbird on Hackberry at Anahuac National Wildlife Refuge, Texas — *Eastern Kingbird* (Tyrannus tyrannus) *on Hackberry* at the Skillern Tract, Anahuac National Wildlife Refuge, Texas. Kingbirds, like many other insectivorous birds, often hang around Hackberry trees. Canon EOS 7D/100-400mm f/4.5-5.6L IS. Hand-held, natural light.

The quest for certainty blocks the search for meaning. Uncertainty is the very condition to impel man to unfold his powers.—Erich Fromm

The Most Spectacular Northern Cardinal Subspecies?

Posted August 16, 2014 by Chris Cunningham

Male Arizona Cardinal at Cave Creek, Arizona — *Portrait in Red: Male Arizona Cardinal* at Cave Creek, Arizona. There are nineteen subspecies of Northern Cardinal in North and Central America. The “Arizona Cardinal,” *Cardinalis cardinals superbus,* may be the most spectacular cardinal in the U.S. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash. All images in this post were saturated 3%.

During our recent road trip to southeast Arizona we once again encountered Cardinalis cardinals superbus, a bird sometimes referred to as the “Arizona Cardinal.” I paused for a closer look and made a few comparisons with our own Cardinalis cardinals magnirostris, the Northern Cardinal subspecies that occurs throughout the eastern third of Texas.

Male Northern Cardinal at Brazos Bend State Park, Texas — *East Texas Bird*: Male Northern Cardinal *(C. c. magnirostris)* at Pilant Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

The Arizona race of cardinals occurs in southern California, Arizona, New Mexico and northern Mexico and is generally larger, taller-crested, longer-tailed, and more brightly colored (less gray on the back) than Texas Gulf Coast cardinals, or any of the other races of cardinals in the U.S. The Arizona Cardinal’s face mask also tends toward lighter shades and is smaller, often not meeting across the top of the bill. In general behavior, the Arizona subspecies was indistinguishable from our familiar Texas birds. Their songs, however, varied by a note or two here and there.

Female Arizona Cardinal at Cave Creek, Arizona. — *Female Arizona Cardinal (C. c. superbus) on Century Plant* at Cave Creek, Arizona. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

C. c. magnirostris is a beautiful bird and common bird—a bird so common that we tend to ignore it, despite its beauty. Sometimes in our travels, too, we are so taken with the new species encountered that we overlook the close relatives of familiar animals that cross our paths.

Female Northern Cardinal at the Houston Arboretum — *Female Northern Cardinal* *(C.C. magnirostris)* at the Houston Arboretum. In portrait, t’s easy to see why Northern Cardinals were referred to as “Cardinal Grosbeaks” in previous centuries. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

The Arizona Cardinal is a spectacular bird, and not easy to miss. But how many other close relatives of our less showy backyard birds are we overlooking during our far-flung birding adventures? Learning about (and keeping straight) these minor geographic variations in our native birds is yet another aspect of this incredible hobby we call birdwatching.

Why hurry over beautiful things? Why not linger and enjoy them?—Clara Schumann

Road Trip! Birding the Desert Southwest in Summer (Part 2: Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum)

Posted August 9, 2014 by Two Shutterbirds

Poets say science takes away from the beauty of the stars – mere globs of gas atoms. I, too, can see the stars on a desert night, and feel them. But do I see less or more?—Richard P. Feynman

Male Costa's Hummingbird at the Arizona Sonoran Desert Museum — *Male Costa’s Hummingbird* at the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum. Aviary bird. The Tucson area is near the eastern extremity of this hummingbird’s summer breeding range. From many angles his gorget appears blackish, but during courtship the male Costa’s is sure to direct brilliant violet rays toward potential mates! Canon EOS 7D/100-400mm f/4.5-5.6L IS. Hand-held, high-speed synchronized fill-flash.

The Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum is an interesting and highly recommended institution nestled within Saguaro National Park. Composed of zoo, botanical garden, nature park, wildlife refuge, and natural history museum, the 21-acre campus blends into the surrounding Sonoran Desert. Some animals are free to come and go as they please, and others are captive.

According to museum literature, the hummingbird aviary contains up to seven species. On the day we visited it contained only four: Anna’s, Costa’s, Black-chinned, and Broad-billed. Because Black-chinned and Broad-billed are common in the areas we bird, we focused our attention primarily on Anna’s and Costa’s.

Male Anna's Hummingbird at the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum — *Male Anna’s Hummingbird* at the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum. Aviary bird. Canon EOS 7D/300mm f/4L IS. Natural light.

The covered aviary made for a weird, muted light in which it was difficult to capture the iridescent colors of male humming bird gorgets. Because these colors are the result of the physical optics of the feathers, not pigmentation, getting the colors to show well depends on the spatial relationship between light source(s), bird, and camera. On the whole, shooting hummingbirds in the aviary was a bit unsettling: We are used to hummers being will-o’-the-wisps, and free to wander.

Verdin at the Arizona Sonoran Desert Museum — *Quizzical Verdin on Desert Willow* at the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum. Wild bird. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.

We also saw a variety of wild desert birds. Cactus Wrens and White-winged Doves were the most common and were seen singing on saguaros and other plants. Verdin, Phainopepla, and Gila Woodpeckers were also about. Some Ash-throated Flycatchers and Gambel’s Quail made brief appearances.

Gila Woodpecker on Saguaro at the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum — *Gila Woodpecker on Saguaro* at the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum. Wild bird. Gila Woodpeckers nest in cavities excavated within saguaros. Many woodpeckers were raising families while we visited the Southwest, and we often saw parents bringing fruit and insects home to young. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

The Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum also boasts an impressive assortment of desert plants. A number of species were in bloom including fishhook barrel cactus, red yucca, a variety of legumes, and the spectacular red bird-of-paradise (Caesalpinia pulcherrina), a naturalized native of the Neotropics. Some saguaros were in bloom, but coming to the end of their flowering season.

Barrel Cactus flowers at the Arizona Sonoran Desert Museum — *Fishhook Barrel Cactus* *(Ferocactus* sp. ) flowers at the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum. Canon EOS 7D/100mm f/2.8L IS macro. Hand-held, high-speed synchronized ring-flash.

Our visit to the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum brought up many philosophical issues about the place of nature in a human-dominated landscape. We have hinted at some of these issues before, but Elisa hopes to explore them more deeply in future writings.

New Article: American Alligator

Posted July 19, 2014 by Chris Cunningham

A Baby American Alligator on Mom's Back, Pilant Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas — *Baby American Alligator on Mom’s Back*, Pilant Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

All this tromping around during hot weather has put alligators on my mind! Please check out the new article American Alligator: Training for the Tropics on the Texan Riviera.

Danger is cool.—Bryan Cranston

Ducklings are Fun!

Posted June 14, 2014 by Chris Cunningham

Mallard Duckling in Olympic National Park, Washington — *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 — *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 — *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

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