Texas

Photographing Cactus Flowers (Of All Things)

Posted September 20, 2014 by Chris Cunningham

Mammillaria grahamii at Saguaro National Park, Arizona. — *Mammillaria grahamii* at Saguaro National Park, Arizona. This small cactus grows in the shadows cast by other, larger cacti and desert plants. All images Canon EOS 7D/100mm f/2.8L IS macro. Hand-held, high-speed synchronized ring flash.

In last week’s post, I noted that due to lousy weather we had been stuck indoors a lot lately contemplating future projects. One pet project I want to work on is building a collection of images of cactus flowers (and developing the skill to do it well). Currently I do shoot plants and animals other than birds when there are no birds around. Up to this point, I’ve been using our 100mm f/2.8L IS macro lens for this work, but I have purchased (after reading technical reports and moping around the house for a week or two) a used 90mm Canon tilt-shift f/2.8, primarily for botanical work. I can’t wait to use it!

Tilt-shift lenses employ the Scheimpflug Principle and convert a plane of sharp of focus into a wedge, thus increasing the apparent depth of field. Shallow depth of field in macro photography, frankly, has what has prevented me from becoming really interested in “macro” work. (Note: I put macro in quotes because much of this work is not true macro, i.e. 1: 1 or greater, but rather just fairly close up using a macro lens.) Depth of field is a function of three variables: aperture (f-stop), focal length, and object distance. Super telephoto work has its own idiosyncrasies and difficulties (like heavy, bulky and expensive lenses, inordinate susceptibility to vibration, etc.), but macro has always seemed especially fussy. Dazzlingly bright light (read bright light and flash) is usually required to capture a macro image that is close enough to present enough detail to be interesting with sufficient depth of field to not look like a child took the photo. Maybe the tilt-shift will help.

Cholla flower at Cave Creek Canyon, Arizona. — *Stale Cane(?) Cholla Flower* (Cylindropuntia sp.) at Cave Creek Canyon, Arizona. Looking for a fun time? Check out Cylinderopuntia taxonomy.

But why cactus flowers, of all things? I must confess a special affection for desert organisms, and deserts in general. The most spectacular places I’ve ever visited are in deserts. As a child, I studied the Arizona Highways magazines at the local library and by February often dreamed of moving away from the frozen wastes of Minnesota. Cactus flowers are especially beautiful–the hummingbirds of the plant world–and I have decided that I would travel just to see and photograph them. Like hummingbirds, they are native to the New World only, and I feel lucky to be able to see and photograph them in the wild.

Up to this point, I’ve only photographed the most common species encountered while chasing birds around, and I know very little about cacti other than that the flowers are pretty and the plants grow in exotic places that I love. Getting serious about cactus flower photography would mean, of course, learning the taxonomy, ecology, and biogeography of the plants. At present this seems a daunting task . . . but it would involve trips to places like Big Bend, the Painted Desert, and . . . dozens of really, really interesting places (i.e., not Houston). Are these just the fantasies of a Dog Days of Houston shut-in? We’ll see.

Prickly Pear flower with bee at Balcones — *Prickly Pear* (Opuntia robusta) *Flower with Bee* at Balcones Canyonlands National Wildlife Refuge, Central Texas.

When I write “paradise” I mean not only apple trees and golden women but also scorpions and tarantulas and flies, rattlesnakes and Gila monsters, sandstorms, volcanoes and earthquakes, bacteria and bear, cactus, yucca, bladderweed, ocotillo and mesquite, flash floods and quicksand, and yes — disease and death and the rotting of flesh.—Edward Abbey, Down the River

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

Birding the Texas Summer Swelter: More Wader Fishing Behavior

Posted August 30, 2014 by Chris Cunningham

Great Blue Heron with Bluegill in Spawning Colors at 40-Acre Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas — *Great Blue Heron with Bluegill in Spawning Colors* at 40-Acre Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas. This bird was the ruler of a string of small marshy “islands” in the northeast corner of the lake. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.

Waders are an endless source of birding pleasure for me. Their hunting and fishing strategies are highly varied, and I’m always on the lookout for techniques I’ve not seen before. This summer I spotted a number of interesting new things at Brazos Bend SP.

40-Acre Lake was a hot-bed of wader fishing behavior this summer. A Great Blue Heron with a slightly injured left wing (above) claimed the northeast corner of the lake for itself, frequently driving away lesser birds—like Little Blues, Tri-colored Herons, and Yellow-crowned Night Herons. The Great Blue, however, adhered to an uneasy peace with a Great Egret (shown below) that spent most of its time on the small islands a bit to the south. When they came face to face, they seemed to agree that the balance of powers was such that a fight would be fruitless.

For long stretches of time over a number of days, I observed the same Great Blue hunt and fish rather unsuccessfully—a bug here and there, a few muddled struggles with some snake-like sticks, but no amphibians or big fish. One morning, however, the bird swooped down from a tree top and stabbed the big bluegill in the above photo. The bird spotted the fish from at least 100 yards away, flew over, and speared the fish with a single thrust. No fuss, no muss. In a matter of minutes the fish was manipulated into swallowing position and ingested.

On another occasion, I saw the Great Blue place an insect on the surface of the water and stare at it for a few seconds. A gentle current carried the insect away from the heron. The bird suddenly snapped up and ate the bug before it got too far away. Was this bait-fishing of the type occasionally exhibited by Green Herons? Hard to say, but it’s something new to watch for.

Fishing Great Egret at 40-Acre Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas. — *Fishing Great Egret* at 40-Acre Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas. This bird ruled a steamy archipelago kingdom slightly to the south of the one ruled by the Great Blue. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.

One morning I turned my attention from the Great Blue to the Great Egret. It had its head down, and held it there. It took me a moment to realize that the bird was engaged in a type of fishing often utilized by Black-Crowned Night-Herons. The stationary bird opened and closed its beak repeatedly while keeping it in the water, perhaps hoping the gentle rythmic disturbance would attract a fish.

One might surmise that after observing waders regularly in a single park over a few years’ time, the surprises and new observations would cease. This is certainly not the case at Brazos Bend, where nearly every visit opens a new window into avian life.

Novelty has charms that our mind can hardly withstand.–William Makepeace Thackeray

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

Birds and Their Prey: Identification Challenges

Posted July 26, 2014 by Chris Cunningham

Louisiana Waterthrush with fly larva at Pilant Slough, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas — *Louisiana Waterthrush with Fly Larva* at Pilant Slough, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas. The caterpillar-like arthropod appears to be a large horse fly larva, but I invite comments from anyone who knows better. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

Photographing birds is often not easy, and getting them in the act of hunting can be a special challenge. But even after you have the image, the work may not yet be done as prey items can be difficult to identify. Vertebrate prey items (particularly fish) can be challenging, but invertebrates, especially larval forms, can be maddening when your invertebrate biology courses were twenty-plus years ago! The rewards of such research, though, are great. Identifying prey puts you in tune with the bird’s life: Now you know what they’re looking for when you see them poking around in particular habitats, at particular times of the year. For me, this is one of the more interesting aspects of birding, one made possible by the camera.

Female Hooded Oriole with Katydid at Santa Ana National Wildlife Refuge, South Texas — *Female Hooded Oriole with Katydid* at Santa Ana National Wildlife Refuge, South Texas. The insect appears to be a spoon-tailed short-winged katydid *(Dichopetala catinata)*, or related form, but I invite comments from anyone who knows better. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.

Our retinas and brains have been wired by a hundred million years of evolution to find outlines in a visually complex landscape. This helps us to recognize prey and predators.—Seth Shostak

The Adaptable Cattle Egret

Posted July 12, 2014 by Chris Cunningham

Cattle Egret with Feral Hog at Pilant Slough, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas — *In Deepest, Darkest Texas:* Cattle Egret with feral hog at Pilant Slough, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas. True pigs have been in the New World for centuries due to human introduction. Cattle Egrets commonly follow cattle around Texas pastures, but this is the first time I have seen the birds shadowing prey-flushing pigs. All photos Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC).

Cattle Egrets are among my favorite waders. They are slightly sinister in appearance and behavior as they sneak and skulk around the margins of grasslands and marshes in search of invertebrate and small vertebrate prey. And judging by their large minimum approach distance they are among the most suspicious and distrustful of birds.

Given their dislike of people, it’s ironic that the rapid expansion of Cattle Egrets across the New World in the latter half of the 20th Century has been aided by human agriculture. Not long before the 20th Century the Cattle Egret was an Old World species. The first Cattle Egret was seen in the New World in 1877; in North America in 1941, and it began breeding in Florida in 1953. Today, Cattle Egrets are widely distributed across the Americas.

A Cattle Egret in Breeding Colors at Smith Oaks Rookery, High Island, Texas — *Spectacular: A Cattle Egret in Breeding Colors* at Smith Oaks Rookery, High Island, Texas. Natural light.

Although we think that the Cattle Egret reached the New World on its own, the widespread distribution of livestock here, particularly cattle, has has greatly facilitated the bird’s spread. Today, Cattle Egrets snapping up grasshoppers and other prey flushed by cattle (or farm implements!) is a common American sight.

So in the Americas, the Cattle Egret is not a human-introduced species. Yet, I find it hard to consider it precisely a native species (over much of its range) given its close association with domesticated livestock. The Cattle Egret exists exactly at the intersection of man and the rest of nature. It is one of those species well adapted to live in a human-influenced, agricultural landscape. And, as the human population increases with its ever-increasing appetite for meat and animal products, the Cattle Egret’s future looks bright indeed.

Mating Cattle Egrets at the Smith Oaks Rookery, High Island, Texas — *Mating Cattle Egrets* at the Smith Oaks Rookery, High Island, Texas. Cattle Egrets now breed in rookeries with native species such as Great Egrets, Roseate Spoonbills, Tricolored Herons, and Snowy Egrets. Natural light.

It is not the strongest or the most intelligent who will survive but those who can best manage change.—Charles Darwin

It’s Black Skimmer Nesting Season!

Posted July 5, 2014 by Chris Cunningham

A Black Skimmer Turns an Egg, at Freeport, Texas — *A Black Skimmer Turns an Egg*, at Freeport, Texas. All images Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC) unless otherwise noted. Natural light.

Elisa and I recently took the opportunity to visit the Black Skimmer nesting colony at the Dow Chemical plant in Freeport, Texas during the company’s annual open house. In addition to the Black Skimmers, Gull-billed and Least Terns were present within the colony. Defense and reproduction were foremost on the birds’ minds.

Avian nesting colonies are defense mechanisms against numerous threats to eggs and chicks: Hundreds of pairs of eyes are better than one. Also, Black Skimmers are not aggressive defenders of nests as are some other colonial nesters (Common, Gull-billed and Least Terns, for example), and will nest among these species for protection. On the day we visited, Laughing Gulls loitered like juvenile delinquents on the margins of the colony hoping for a moment of inattention or distraction to grab eggs or chicks. Rats and other mammals like raccoons, can also be expected to prey on eggs and nestlings.

Gull-billed Tern over nest at Freeport, Texas — *Vigilance: Gull-billed Tern Over Nest* at Freeport, Texas.

Another Black Skimmer defensive tactic we observed was the “broken wing act” to distract attention from nests. In the cases I observed, I did not perceive a particular threat. Perhaps the birds were simply responding to a general level of stress due to a large number of human observers.

Black Skimmer Performing Broken Wing Act at Freeport, Texas — *A Black Skimmer Performs the Broken Wing Act* at Freeport, Texas. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

In addition to defensive behaviors, we observed several instances of Black Skimmers turning eggs. In marked contrast to snake and lizard eggs, almost all bird eggs must be turned often during incubation for proper development.

One of the most charming things I observed was pair feeding as part of the skimmer courtship ritual. In this ritual, the larger male Black Skimmer presents the female with a small fish. If she accepts the fish, the pair copulates. The female skimmer then eats the fish. Interestingly, terns exhibit a similar ritual—but female terns eats the fish before copulation.

On the photographic side, a persistent Tropical weather pattern continued in which moisture flowed up onto the coast from the Gulf providing high humidity and a dazzling, cloudy white sky. The unfortunate placement of the observation areas coupled with the atmosphere meant conditions for photography were poor. Because the birds were backlit, I had to wait for instances when they would turn their heads such that raking light could reveal feather detail and provide catchlights. Sometimes shooting during the Texas summer requires a little creativity.

Laughing Gull with a fish at Freeport, Texas — *No Laughing Matter:* Laughing Gulls with a fish at Freeport, Texas. Small groups of Laughing Gulls flanked the colony waiting for opportunities to prey on eggs and young. These two gulls couldn’t decide whether to eat or abandon (or bring back to their own young?) their nearly dried-up fish carcass. They kept dropping it and hestitantly picking it up again. Were they hoping for something better? A plump, juicy tern or skimmer chick, perhaps?

I always root for the defense.—Wellington Mara

Road Trip: Birding the Rio Grande Valley in Summer

Posted June 28, 2014 by Two Shutterbirds

Buff-bellied Hummingbird at Casa Santa Ana, Rio Grande Valley, Texas — *Buff-bellied Hummingbird* *(Amazilia yucatanensis),* Casa Santa Ana, Rio Grande Valley, Texas. Four species of *Amazilia* hummingbirds occur in the U.S. Only the Buff-bellied is common. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC): f/8, ISO 640; 1/1000. High-speed synchronized fill-flash.

Chris’s Field Notes: We just returned from a three-day birding adventure in the Lower Rio Grande Valley (RGV) in the vicinity of Santa Ana National Wildlife Refuge and Estero Llano Grande State Park. We stayed at Casa Santa Ana, adjacent to the wildlife refuge—highly recommended for the hospitality and birding the extensive grounds. Although the heat, humidity, and biting insects (not to mention chiggers) tested our resolve, we saw a number of new species and obtained nice (or at least better than we had!) shots of some Valley specialities, essentially Mexican species with ranges that barely extend into South Texas in summer.

Birds notable for us included: Buff-bellied Hummingbird, Groove-billed Ani, Clay-colored Robin, Northern Beardless-Tyrannulet, Altamira and Hooded Oriole, Couch’s Kingbird, Olive Sparrow, and Brown-crested Flycatcher. Nests and young birds were everywhere. I saw one adult male Black-chinned Hummingbird at Estero Llano Grande State Park (at the extreme southern extent of their summer range). Although we explored significant wetlands, including some with profuse amphibians (leopard frogs), waders were rare (strangely it seemed), compared to the Upper Texas Gulf Coast. I witnessed a display by the male Bronzed Cowbird. The bird was on a low branch overhanging a path at Santa Ana NWR when it lowered its head, roused its feathers, and flapped its wings while making whistling, buzzing, and clicking sounds. Spectacular.

The Tamaulipan mezquital ecoregion through which the Rio Grande winds is a harsh place in the summer. Scattered trees, often mesquite and “acacia” surrounded by grasses and low shrubs predominate. Shade is usually incomplete. Mosquitos were not a significant problem, but other types of biting (and bottle) flies abound. Dragonflies like Roseate Skimmer (Orthemis ferruginea) and Band-winged Dragonlet (Erythrodiplax umbrata) were profuse and offered many photographic opportunities. I didn’t see many mammals, only one Southern Plains Woodrat (Neotoma micropus). Lizards were abundant, especially the Rose-bellied Lizard (Sceloporus variabilis). White skies due to high humidity often made photography difficult. Many times I had a bead on an interesting bird only to have a dazzlingly white cloud drift in behind and ruin the shot. All in all, an amazing place, and I can’t wait to get back during cooler weather.

Groove-billed Ani at Casa Santa Ana, Rio Grande Valley, Texas. — *Groove-billed Ani* at Casa Santa Ana, Rio Grande Valley, Texas. That big heavy bill gives the impression of a seed-eater. Anis do eat fruit, nuts, and seeds, but the bulk of their diet consists of arthropods. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC): f/8, ISO 800; 1/640. Natural light.

Adult Clay-colored Robin gathering nesting material photographed by E.D. Lewis — This Clay-colored Robin made several fiber-gathering trips to this back-yard garden palm tree. Canon EOS 7D/500 mm f/4L IS USM (+1.4x TC): f/5.6, ISO 500; 1/100. Natural light.

Elisa’s Field Notes: This was our first late spring/early summer visit to the Lower RGV, and I hoped that the effort (in defiance of the heat!) would yield many observations of nesting, nestlings, fledglings, etc. I was not disappointed! With excellent summer birding in our own Gulf Coast backyard, we see quite a bit of bird family life, but mostly of the waterbird persuasion. During our short trip into Texas’ subtropical scrubland, I was able to spot White-eyed Vireo, Long-billed Thrasher, Plain Chachalaca, Golden-fronted Woodpecker, and Altamira Oriole juveniles just beginning to make it on their own. Our timing was rewarding in other ways, too. We essentially had the refuge and the park to ourselves! Our host mentioned that anyone who was “out here at this time of year is committed.” I suspect that he might have meant to say that we should be committed!

I was also charmed by the abundance of nests and nesting behavior. Oriole nests, in particular, are standouts. I saw the Altamira Oriole pictured below fly directly into the nest as it swung and bobbed in the wind. It must be somewhat like living in a small boat out at sea. Altamira Oriole nests are typically woven to a fork of a tree branch and, sometimes, to a telephone wire as we saw outside of the state park. I wonder if building the nest so far from stable branches is one way to make your nest more inaccessible to predators . . . Regardless, as an amateur fiber artist, any creature that weaves or works with fiber is OK by me!

Adult Altamira Oriole and nest photographed by E. D. Lewis — An Altimira Oriole emerges from its nest of grasses woven onto the branches of a mesquite tree at Santa Ana National Wildlife Refuge. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS USM (+1.4x TC): f/6.3, ISO 640; 1/2500. Natural light.

What dreadful hot weather we have! It keeps me in a continual state of inelegance.—Jane Austen

‘Tis the Season to be (Watching) Nesting

Posted June 7, 2014 by Chris Cunningham

What we observe is not nature itself, but nature exposed to our method of questioning.—Werner Heisenberg

Yellow-crowned Night-Heron nestlings at Brazos Bend State Park, Texas — *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 — *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 Nestling at Smith Oaks Rookery, High Island, Texas — *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

Transitioning Back into Summer Mode: Hunting Waders with a Camera

Posted May 24, 2014 by Chris Cunningham

Great Egret Nestlings at Smith Oaks Rookery, High Island, Texas — *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, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas — *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 crawfish at Pilant Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas — *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, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas — *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

Spring Shorebird Migration 2014 Wrap-up

Posted May 17, 2014 by Chris Cunningham

Immature Red Knot at Frenchtown Road, Bolivar Peninsula, Texas — *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 Lafitte's Cove, Galveston Island, Texas — *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, Frenchtown Road, Bolivar Peninsula, Texas — *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's Road, Galveston Island, Texas — *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

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