Is there a reason for today?
Is there a reason for today?
Do you remember? –Gail Collins/Felix Pappalardi, “World of Pain” (as recorded by Cream)
As I write this, I have less than a week remaining of my summer vacation. As a teacher, I, of course, look forward to summer every year. The two-and-a-half months off give us a chance to travel, and me a chance to get caught up on house repairs and maintenance. I usually go into summer with a long list of things to accomplish, and I’m lucky if half gets done. The prospect of being able to go out every day photographing plants and animals is exciting. But usually after about a month or so of shooting frequently, the grind of the Texas heat starts to take the edge off the enthusiasm at bit, productivity trails off, and I start to long for the first blue norther of fall.
Summers off for students and teachers is a holdover from an agrarian past. Objectively, summer off is obsolete, and I would love to see the school calendar changed. Nine months of instruction is fine (unless you want to expand content, but no one but the most hard-core AP teachers want that), but summer vacation should be at most a month long lest student knowledge and skills tank. The additional time should be distributed throughout the year—longer mini-vacations in fall, winter, and spring. Of course, as a birder it would be wonderful to be able to travel to see major birding hotspots at the proper time of the year. Big Bend for Colima Warblers in May, anyone? Cape May for waterfowl in November? Anyone? Remember: The birds always decide when it’s the right time to be somewhere.
During this summer, like every other one, I tried to cram as many new experiences as I could into available time. As the clock runs out, I always ask myself: Was the time as well-used as it could have been? The answer is almost always a resounding no. But as a life-long learner, that failure gives something to aspire to next time.
Where was I going? I puzzled and wondered about it til I actually enjoyed the puzzlement and wondering. –Carl Sandburg
Gulf Coast birders are fortunate in that they have great places to enjoy both Neotropical migratory songbirds and shorebirds during spring and fall migrations. Despite the nasty weather, now is definitely the time to be out to catch the earliest migrants. With a little planning, you can see migrating songbirds and shorebirds on the same outing. Bolivar Flats and Frenchtown Road, Bolivar Peninsula, and East Beach, Galveston, are great for the fall shorebird migration. Although known as a songbird mecca, Lafitte’s Cove is worth checking in the fall for shorebirds, too. We’ve seen Pectoral Sandpipers and Wilson’s Phalaropes there, for example.
Sometimes being aware of different migratory paths in spring and fall can be helpful in identification, especially for warblers. Cerulean Warblers, for example, migrate across essentially all of the Gulf Coast during spring migration. In the fall, however, they cross the Gulf of Mexico much further east. Hence, it’s possible to see Cerulean Warblers along the Upper Texas Coast in the spring, but not the fall (barring birds being blown off-course by storms, of course).
As noted in the previous post, fall migration is especially challenging as far as shorebird identification is concerned. Case in point: the Western Sandpipers above. Based on the rusty-red crown, ear-patch and wing markings, most of the birds in the above scene are clearly Western Sandpipers in breeding plumage. But notice that the in-focus bird is paler than the others. After flipping around in various books and scratching my head for a while (Is this a Semipalmated Sandpiper?), I “decided on” what I was seeing. This bird, I think, is ahead of the curve on transitioning into non-breeding plumage. Being a juvenile is also a possibility, but the markings on the heads of juvenile Western Sandpipers tend to be less distinct. I invite comments from readers who know more, though.
As similar problem faces the birder confronted with the dowitcher above: Long-billed or Short-billed? I believe this to be a Short-billed Dowitcher transitioning into non-breeding plumage. In my experience, the beaks of Long-billed Dowitchers tend to be blacker than this in non-breeding colors. Also, the few remaining feathers in breeding color on the wings appear to have orange, rather than brick-red markings—ambient light affects this, though, and identification is far from certain.
Finally, if you enjoy identification puzzlements such as these, now is the time to be at the beach along the Upper Texas Coast. A variety of dowitchers, plovers, sandpipers, terns, and others in every possible plumage (even down!) await you.
If they play dirty, then you play dirty. –Lawrence Taylor
It’s an extremely interesting time to visit the Texas Gulf Coast these days. The fall shorebird migration is in full swing, and there is still plenty of family life to observe. Identifying some birds can be a bit of a challenge, though, as some species are showing immature, breeding, and non-breeding plumages simultaneously.
Last month, it was hard to decide if some of the birds were stragglers on their way north, or if they were planning on sticking around. But by now it’s clearly too late to be moving north, and many of the birds that breed here, like the Least Terns, are on their second brood. I guess I’ve exchanged one confusion for another!
Ever since reading Bill Majoros’ Secrets of Digital Bird Photography, I’ve had shooting from a ground pod in the back of my mind. A ground pod is a dish-like affair that sits right on the ground and serves as a support for your tripod mount. Using a ground pod means, for the photographer, lying down on the ground. Many prefer the look of bird photos shot from as low an angle as possible to get, ironically, a bird’s eye view. Such a low angle makes the foreground and background disappear and gives the impression of a very narrow depth of field, regardless of f-stop, thus isolating the subject. My desire to give a ground pod a try was given another nudge by a nice talk on this subject by Tim Timmis that Elisa and I saw at the Houston Audubon Nature Photography Association meeting last May.
As in all things photographic, shooting from a ground pod is a compromise. Use of a ground pod is also a highly specialized technique. This device can only work on level ground, free of any obstructions. A ground pod is therefore impractical in most of the places we normally shoot, like Brazos Bend State Park.
Ground pods will also not work well if the photographer needs to react to a birds moving around a lot or approaching from a variety of heights and directions. A stable place from which birds come and go is therefore needed. On certain beaches and tidal mudflats, then, the ground pod will work admirably for shorebirds and water birds—birds that tend to stick consistently to a choice patch of beach.
A photographer using a ground pod will also typically get filthy, and dirt, mud, and water can very easily be transferred to equipment—a big concern if you’re not using professional-grade equipment. Shooting from such a low angle also causes all the context of the bird to disappear in a dreamy haze, so you will lose all or most of the ecological information in the shot. But what context you fail to capture in the shot, you can bring back on your clothes!
My usual response to the multiple considerations and compromises on the beach is to shoot shorebird photos from my knees. A recent mishap has made ground pod shooting more likely, though. Through over-tightening, I broke the threads of the bolt that controls the stiffness of the pan control on my Wimberley II gimbal tripod mount. I soon realized that I could permanently mount the broken gimbal on our ground pod, a NatureScapes Skimmer Ground Pod II, because panning can be achieved by turning the whole apparatus.
Having to move a gimbal from a tripod to ground pod is an odious operation and not recommended in the field given that such mounts are prima donnas as regards fine adjustments of the center bolt, and you have to worry about getting grit in the threads. Now, with a new gimbal mounted on my tripod and the old, broken gimbal on the ground pod, I’m ready for action on the beach—I just have to talk myself into schlepping all those contraptions around!
Reference
Lockwood, Mark W., and Brush Freeman. 2014. The Texas Ornithological Society Handbook of Texas Birds. Texas A&M University Press. 403p.
How inappropriate to call this planet Earth when it is quite clearly Ocean. –Arthur C. Clarke
Terns are among the most beautiful and interesting birds on the planet. Few birds can match their incredible suite of behaviors. From their spectacular dives for fish, elegant mating dances, and charming nuptial feeding ritual, these birds are always a delight to watch. Luckily for Gulf Coast birders, Galveston Island is a fine place to observe several species of terns—but not all species are easy to find. Sandwich, Royal, Forster’s, and Least Terns are probably the easiest to spot and are present year-round.
The spectacular Caspian Tern, the world’s largest tern, is present on Galveston year-round, but is not as ubiquitous as the aforementioned terns. The best way to spot them is to scan U’s of Royal Terns and look for the really big birds with red, rather than orange bills. Unfortunately, Caspian Terns, like many bird species, are in decline.
The family life of terns is probably the most interesting aspect of these birds. The fact that their mating rituals and mating itself takes place right out in the open of the beach-face make terns easy pickings for birders. Among the more comical aspects of their family lives is the shocking displays of gluttony by sub-adult terns as they nag their parents mercilessly for food—even though the young are the same size as the adults. East Beach is a fine place to see this behavior exhibited by Royal and Caspian, and occasionally Forster’s Terns.
Black Terns can theoretically be seen on Galveston during migrations, but we’ve never seen them here. A reliable place to see them nearby during migrations, though, is Rollover Fish Pass on Bolivar Peninsula. Probably the closest place for a Texas birder to see them during the breeding season is at Cheyenne Bottoms in central Kansas. Snowy Plovers also breed at this somewhat isolated, but interesting wetland famous for migrating waterbirds.
Except for going to visit the nesting colonies of Sooty Terns along the coast just north of the Rio Grande, the only other opportunities for expanding your “Texas” tern experiences beyond those available on or around Galveston would involve taking to a boat. Bridled and Sooty Terns are pelagic and can be seen out over the open waters of the Gulf of Mexico when not breeding in the West Indies or along the Pacific coast of southern Mexico. But trying to photograph birds from boats has, for us, been a somewhat specialized (mis)adventure. Better to just bring the binoculars!
Those who live by the sea can hardly form a single thought of which the sea would not be part. –Hermann Broch
Over the past week or so, I’ve made several dawn and dusk visits (once with Elisa) to the East End/East Beach area to observe and photograph summer shorebird behavior—which abounds at this time of year. Unfortunately by 8 am the area has been a blazing inferno, making photography a challenge.
In an earlier post I mentioned the appearance of a new tidal channel near the East End Lagoon Preserve. This week I took a look-see to find out the status of the new channel and the impact it might be having on the wildlife of the area. As I expected, the channel has expanded: it is now about twenty yards wide at the mouth during high tide. A Reddish Egret patrolled the channel mouth while Laughing Gulls, Royal and Sandwich Terns, and the odd Willet mostly stood around while I photographed them. They were taking some interesting prey, though.
During the warm months, a strange, eel-like fish, the Atlantic cutlassfish (aka ribbonfish), is abundant in the bays and channels along the Texas Gulf Coast. Laughing Gulls and Royal Terns were having a field day eating them this week. Although the birds consumed them enthusiastically, both species seemed to have difficulty swallowing the fish’s long, thread-like tail. Some birds were walking around with a silver thread trailing out of their beaks!
The real story at this time of year on Texas beaches and barrier islands is, of course, breeding. The Royal Terns, Least Terns, and to a lesser extent, the Sandwich Terns, clearly had mating on their minds. Royal and Sandwich Terns were doing some dancing. Male Royal Terns and Least Terns were presenting females with a nuptial gift of small fish. A few Least Terns were nest-sitting. Some Royal Terns were copulating right out in public. Gracious! What will the drunken fishermen think?
Plovers, too, were everywhere on the East End of Galveston. Wilson’s Plovers were breeding along with Least Terns in the protected areas. Snowy Plovers were running around everywhere, but likely not nesting—their coastal nesting areas are further south in Texas. A few Black-bellied and Semipalmated Plovers were standing around trying to look innocent—as if we didn’t know that they are tardy for an appointment in the high-Arctic. Or perhaps they are among those rare birds that reside in Texas during the summer but do not breed?
Finally, lending a splash of color to the seascape were American Avocets in breeding colors. These birds are either very late spring migration stragglers or belong to scattered clusters of birds, rare summer residents, that inhabit the Texas Coast. Whatever their story, it’s nice to be able to see shorebirds in breeding (summer) and non-breeding (winter) plumage at the same locale.
Everybody needs beauty as well as bread, places to play in and pray in, where nature may heal and give strength to body and soul. –John Muir
I think of migrant traps as the first quality habitat, usually on barrier islands, visible to birds after their epic flights across the Gulf of Mexico during the spring migration. In fall, these places are the last chance to drink up and fatten up before chasing the sun south for the winter. The best migrant traps have food, water, and cover—the essentials of life for birds. Cover usually means trees, and most of the best and most famous migrant traps are mottes, slightly elevated areas with trees on an otherwise low-lying and exposed mixture of land- and sea-scape. In this new article, I discuss findings and birding adventures in some of our favorite migrant traps from Alabama to the Coastal Bend of Texas.
Love me or hate me, both are in my favor . . . If you love me, I’ll always be in your heart . . . If you hate me, I’ll always be in your mind.—unknown (often falsely attributed to William Shakespeare)
Despite having developed a love-hate relationship with the place, over the past month or so we’ve taken every opportunity to get down to Lafitte’s Cove for the spring migration. On a good day, this sanctuary is hard to beat, but getting there has become oppressive, and once there, the crowds can make functioning as a wildlife photographer next to impossible. Tour groups have begun to show up at Lafitte’s Cove, and with mobs of twenty-plus people ambling down narrow paths you’re not getting much work done.
The love: On April 9, we visited Lafitte’s Cove and saw American Redstart, Black and White, Hooded, Kentucky, Blue-winged, and Worm-eating Warblers along with Scarlet and Summer Tanagers, Blue and Rose-breasted Grosbeaks, Indigo Buntings, and White-eyed and Red-eyed Vireos. Thrushes were common: We saw and identified the Veery and Wood Thrush, although Swainson’s Thrushes were also likely present. These recent encounters revealed a truth: Thrushes (along with Ovenbirds) represent a photographic challenge I’ve not yet mastered. Birds of this sort hop around and probe for food in nooks and crannies of the the dark understory and, at best, appear in broken light only . . . They are tough subjects.
April 23 was a good day at the Cove. We saw many birds including Golden-winged, Blue-winged, Worm-eating, and Blackburnian Warblers. Summer and Scarlet Tanagers, and Rose-breasted Grosbeaks were also around. The following morning was a bust, though. The sky was a blown-out white, and the birds were in hiding. At one point, a Golden-winged and Blackburnian Warbler flew right over my head, but disappeared immediately into the brush and sky, respectively, never to be seen again . . . .
The hate: Construction on I-45 between Houston and Galveston has been going on at least since the early 90’s when I arrived in Texas. Construction is now permanent and creates catastrophic, hellish traffic jams from which there is no escape.
On our last trip back (April 24) from Lafitte’s Cove, I noticed a sign that read: HIGHWAY CLOSED AHEAD. It took a minute for that to sink in. It’s simply not possible to close I-45 without warning, is it? It would be apocalyptic. We had just traveled the same highway south a few hours before, and there was no indication of impending doom. In a matter of minutes we were in a sea of bumper-to-bumper traffic that stretched as far as the eye could see. Luckily we just barely managed to exit, and with Elisa deftly navigating with her smart phone we found ourselves on side streets (also jammed with cars). At one point I glanced up to find I was crossing Kobayashi Road. My mind reeled. Apparently I was about to face my own Kobayashi Maru scenario. Looking both ways for Klingon battle cruisers, I drove on . . . . .
Despite being only 45 miles from our house, the only solution to the current Lafitte’s Cove logistics nightmare, I fear, is to treat the sanctuary as if were a far-away destination. We must drive down in the wee hours, book a room for a few days (at inflated Galveston prices), and then drive back in the wee hours. Expletive deleted.
Life is a little like a message in a bottle, to be carried by the winds and the tides.–Gene Tierney
In January, while walking down the beach on the East End of Galveston Island, Texas I noticed a new tidal channel that blocked my progress south. I was annoyed because I was wearing hiking shoes and not boots as I should have been. But I noticed that the outflow (it was low tide) was attracting Lesser and Greater Yellowlegs that were picking small fish and invertebrates from the gently flowing water. I didn’t think much of where the water was coming from and pressed on south along the beach (with wet feet).
In early April, we again visited the area and found that the tidal channel had grown greatly and now penetrated a lagoon that is typically a pretty good spot to bird, although the light can be challenging. I am referring to the lagoon just south of the parking area and east (seaward side) of Bodekker Road, kitty-corner from the East End Lagoon Preserve.
With the penetration of the new tidal channel, however, the lagoon now drains at low tide. Parallel to the long axis of the lagoon, on the landward side, runs a riprap and concrete levee that crabbers frequent. As the lagoon drains, water seeps through the levee from slightly higher elevation creating little trickles and streams. This change has created a birding wonderland for one simple reason: It has produced a diversity of microenvironments within a small area. Red-breasted Mergansers now fish in the deeper parts. Avocets, yellowlegs, White Ibises, Willets, and dowitchers hunt and fish in the slightly shallower areas. Sandpipers scamper across emergent rippled surfaces. Tiny differences in water depth and flow really seem to make a difference to foraging shorebirds.
We planned to explore this spot again the following week, but when we arrived we noticed that yahoos had taken over so we pressed on to Lafitte’s Cove. It was clear, however, that the tidal channel had expanded, and even though it was nearly high tide, the area was very birdy. We drew up plans to visit again at low tide. We hoped to visit again on the morning of April 17, to check channel status but a storm tide was inundating the coast. The next day, of course, a series of catastrophic storms hit the Gulf Coast in general and the Houston area in particular. I hope this recent bout of stormy weather doesn’t remodel the East End area too much. At the end of April, low tides will fall in the evening, and we plan on visiting this area again for some golden hour photography.
A simple walk on the beach reveals a great truth: A diversity of habitat means a diversity of wildlife. As humans continue to pulverize and homogenize the planet, life around us disappears—half of all songbirds and many shorebirds in my lifetime, for example. One little patch of tidal zone on the end of a barrier island in the Gulf of Mexico illustrates this principle perfectly.
@2016 Christopher R. Cunningham. All rights reserved. No text or images may be duplicated or distributed without permission.
Few birds have been so well named. This warbler is black and white, just exactly that, no more, no less.—Alexander Sprunt, Jr. (1957)
I remember the first time I saw a Black and White Warbler. The bird was gleaning bugs from a black willow tree on the south shore of Pilant Lake, Brazos Bend State Park. I recall being amazed that such a striking bird could be found outside the Tropics. Although Black and White Warblers summer from the Yukon to South Texas, they winter mostly along coasts from the Carolinas to northern South America.
As noted, some Black and White Warblers do winter along the Upper Texas Gulf Coast, but during migrations is really the time you can expect to see them. In spring, their numbers peak here during the middle of the migration, namely April. This year, during our last two trips to Lafitte’s Cove in late March and early April, the number of Black and White Warblers we saw about equalled the number of other migratory songbirds combined, including Yellow-throated, Black-throated Green, Myrtle, Orange-crowned, and Hooded Warblers, Northern Parula, and White-eyed Vireos.
Rarely mistakable for any other species, the creeper-like hunting behavior alone is usually enough to recognize Black and White Warblers. And males and females are easy to tell apart. Males have black cheeks, lores, and throats. Females are pale gray in these areas. Mr. Sprunt notwithstanding, female birds will also sometimes have a wash of pale brown (“buff”) on the sides—this is a nice departure from some warbler species in which even with a good photo in hand and a stack of references, it’s tough to sex the birds.
As we get deeper into spring migration and more rare and unusual warbler species start to show up, the impact of seeing Black and White Warblers will start to fade a bit. But Black and White Warblers are definitely part of what makes migration so wonderful here along the Gulf Coast: The skies and vegetation are filled with a spectacular spattering of avian colors.
Reference
Sprunt, Alexander, Jr. 1957. Black and White Warbler, in Ludlow Grissom and Alexander Sprunt, Jr., eds., The Warblers of North America. The Devin-Adair Company, New York. 356p.
Unless you and your mate are united in purpose, dedication, and loyalty, you will not succeed to the extent you otherwise could.–Ezra Taft Benson
Pair bonded ducks are easy to see now, regardless of whether they nest locally or are about to depart for the north. Dabbling ducks typically bond as early as late fall or early winter, whereas divers often wait until as late as early spring. By this time of year, then, the vast majority of ducks still in Texas are pair bonded. Last week at Lafitte’s Cove I saw a pair of American Wigeons in the lagoon on the west side of Eckert Drive. With them were pairs of Blue- and Green-winged Teal and Gadwall. In the west pond on the other side of Eckert Drive was a lone pair of Mottled Ducks.
Mottled ducks pair bond earlier than other Mallard-complex ducks (Terres, 1991). The benefits of pair bonding to female ducks is well known: drakes protect their mates from the unwanted advances of other male ducks thus allowing their hens more time to feed and fatten up for nesting or the flight to breeding locations. Last week while watching the Mottled Ducks, I witnessed another possible advantage of pair bonding at Lafitte’s Cove.
While feeding, the dabbling drake and hen seemed to get into a rhythmic pattern of dabbling or head dunking and watching. When one bird’s head was submerged, the other was watchful. Only during a disruption were both watchful. This type of behavior would seem to be beneficial to both birds. The submerged partner can feed (and be vigilant against underwater menaces like alligators and large predatory fish), and the partner with head above water can watch for terrestrial predators like felids and shotgun-toting primates, as well as aerial hunters like raptors.
Reference
Terres, John K. 1991. The Audubon Society Encyclopedia of North American Birds. Wings Books. New York. 1109 p.
This handsome, often hard to see, warbler is rightly connected in the minds of some with the coniferous north woods.—Alexander Sprunt, Jr. and A.E. Allin (1957)
For those of us along the Gulf Coast, the Black-throated Green Warbler is, of course, associated not with conifers, but with migration. These showy birds cross the U.S. from South Texas to Florida on their way north from the lands surrounding the Caribbean Sea to the Appalachians and the Boreal forests of Newfoundland to British Columbia.
The impending spring Neotropical songbird migration has me brushing up on my warbler field marks. Given that similar-looking species (Hermit, Golden-cheeked, and Townsend’s Warblers) follow more western migratory paths, there is rarely any doubt that one is dealing with a Black-throated Green Warbler along the Upper Texas Coast. Aging and sexing these birds, however, is another matter—especially when sightings occur at random angles in patchy, broken light within the foliage of leafed-out trees.
My go-to reference book for warblers is The Warbler Guide by Stephenson and Whittle (2013). In matters of sexing and aging, these authors suggest paying attention to streaking on the back, the amount of black in the throat, and the nature of mottling on the breast. Males tend to be more streaked on the back and have black throats and greater contrast. Note the two birds above. The female, for example, has a pale-yellow black-flecked throat, streaking is nearly absent on the mantle, and black mottles on the breast trail off into broken streaks along the sides. This bird strongly resembles the first-year female figured in Stephenson and Whittle (2013), p. 205. The male above is unmistakable in lateral view with its black throat stretching into a strong black streak along the sides. The bird below shows the least contrast of birds in this post and is likely a female.
Black-throated Green Warblers typically show up along the Gulf Coast late in the middle of the spring migration, making the first week of May the ideal time to watch for them as they glean insects from the mighty hardwoods of migrant traps. Although these charming little birds are among the most common gems of the avian treasure trove that is about to return to North America, they are well worth the effort to seek out, identify, and study.
References
Sprunt, Alexander, Jr. and Allin, A. E. 1957. Black-throated Green Warbler, in Ludlow Grissom and Alexander Sprunt, Jr., eds., The Warblers of North America. The Devin-Adair Company, New York. 356p.
Stephenson, Tom, and Whittle, Scott. 2013. The Warbler Guide. Princeton University Press. 554p.
In structural complexity, adaptation to all sorts of environments, and development of a remarkable social organization among some, the arthropods are judged to represent the peak of evolutionary advancement attained by invertebrates.—Moore, Lalicker, and Fischer, Invertebrate Fossils (1952)
It’s almost time to get back into one of our spring birding habits: A road trip to the Smith Oaks Rookery on High Island in the afternoon (for the best light), followed by the night in Winnie, and a trip down the Bolivar Peninsula the next morning. The highlight of Bolivar is usually Frenchtown Road, where shorebirds and waders can often be seen hunting for invertebrates, especially arthropods, on the tidal flats, in the shallow tidal channels, and from among the exposed oyster patch reefs.
Another spring tradition is travel to Bryan Beach (or Surfside Jetty Park or Quintana Neotropical Bird Sanctuary), followed by a trip up Follett’s Island, across to Galveston Island, ending at Lafitte’s Cove. These trips have the best of both worlds, littoral marine habitats and songbird migrant traps among mighty hardwoods.
This time of year reminds the birder of the fact that birds are governed by the never-ending search for food. As avian migrants follow the sun’s energy north, they are mostly following the the exploding biomass of terrestrial invertebrates, primarily arthropods. Birds lucky enough to be able the tap the perennial invertebrate bounty of the sea can overwinter along the coast. Those dependent on terrestrial and aquatic arthropods like insects must wait for the inevitable return of the summer swelter.