All the revision in the world will not save a bad first draft: for the architecture of the thing comes, or fails to come, in the first conception, and revision only affects the detail and ornament, alas!–T. E. Lawrence
And I, what fountain of fire am I among
This leaping combustion of spring? My spirit is tossed
About like a shadow buffeted in the throng
Of flames, a shadow that’s gone astray, and is lost.
—Enkindled Spring, D.H. Lawrence
The primaveral combustion of brilliantly colored Neotropical migrant songbirds and shorebirds molting into breeding plumage is giving way to the vernal, thermal Texas combustion. But every spring migration is a bit different. It seems that we saw less than last year, and certainly far less than the previous one—but not for want of trying. And I’ve got the bites, scratches, and poison ivy blisters to prove it.
This was the year of seeing Tanagers (Summer and Scarlet), Eastern Wood-pewees, and Bay-breasted Warblers. Of the Pewees, we heard even more than we saw. Everywhere we went in April and May the pee-ah-wee or wee-ooo could be heard. But luck would have it that we saw far fewer warblers and other songbirds than usual—no swarms of Hooded, Yellow, or Magnolia Warblers, just the odd bird here and there poking around in the woods.
So, as the migration tapers off, it’s time to transition into summer birding mode. My time and mind will soon be filled by planning for the upcoming big birding trips (Yea, mountains!) and stalking waders around the swamps and marshes as they hunt and fish their way through the broiling Texas summer.
Let me recommend the best medicine in the world: a long journey, at a mild season, through a pleasant country, in easy stages.—James Madison
This is the time of year for visiting migrant songbird traps! In these special places it’s easy to see what migration is all about—chasing the warming rays of the sun north as they bring their bounty of flowers, nectar, pollen, fruit, and succulent bugs!
Although it will probably have to wait for retirement, I dream of an April road trip, drifting slowly down the Gulf Coast from Dauphin Island, Alabama to Grand Isle, Louisiana to Sabine Woods, High Island, Pelican Island, Lafitte’s Cove, Quintana, perhaps ending at Paradise Pond, Mustang Island, Texas.
Many of these classic migrant traps are oak mottes, slightly elevated patches of woods, on the very edge of the land and provide desperately needed food, water, and shelter after an exhausting flight across the Gulf of Mexico. One of the most exciting parts of being out in these migrant traps during spring is observing and photographing Neotropical migrants hunting and gorging on fruits and other botanical goodies.
In the oak mottes, birds are often covered in pollen as they poke around flowers. Sometimes novice birders, field guides clutched in hand, are puzzled by a bird that looks somehow familiar—but it has a yellow face! There’s usually an old-timer around, though, who explains kindly how the birds are sometimes painted with pollen at this magical and all-too-short time of the year.
Most birds are enthusiastic bathers. They bathe in standing water, rain, dew, wet leaves—even dust. This bathing keeps feathers in optimal condition for flight and thermoregulation. Excess oil and bits of detritus that can clog or dishevel the fine structure of feathers (barbules and barbicels) can be removed by a good rinse. After a flight across (or around) the Gulf of Mexico, it probably feels pretty good, too. Many birds wade out into to shallow water and splash around a bit, usually producing a spectacular shower of droplets. The salinity seems not to matter much, as birds bathe in fresh, brackish, and salt water with equal gusto. For a discussion of bird bathing in gory detail see that monumental tome, Terres (1991).
The best place that I knew of to watch bathing Neotropical migrant songbirds was the main dripper at Lafitte’s Cove, Galveston Island, Texas. During past migrations it was commonplace to observe Northern Parulas, Tennessee, Black-throated Green, Magnolia, Yellow, Hooded, Yellow-rumped, Black and White, and sometimes other less common warblers, plus vireos, cardinals, catbirds, grosbeaks, tanagers, and orioles bathing in the shallow water. Typically after bathing, birds would fly up to a low branch to fluff and preen—thus avoiding the snakes and cats that prey on drinking and bathing birds in the sanctuary.
A visit to the site this week, though, revealed that the dripper area has been (Gasp!) remodeled! A Wooden table-like platform now sits where the main pool used to be. This new arrangement seems much less conducive to bathing, but further observation is required to make a final pronouncement. (Sidebar: for anyone thinking of visiting Lafitte’s Cove, as of last Sunday, Hooded and Black and White Warblers and Yellow-throated Vireos were about—but, the flood of migrants hadn’t yet started.).
Birds display a wonderful range of behavior to be observed and photographed. Much of it involves water, including drinking, bathing and fishing. Waders will even dip prey items into water before swallowing to rinse off grit and provide lubrication. Clearly the best places to go birding are around water. Although I enjoy observing all types of bird behavior, my favorite type of bird photography is still documenting hunting and fishing strategies (and predator-prey interactions—you knew I had to sneak one of those in!).
Reference
Terres, John K. 1991. The Audubon Society Encyclopedia of North American Birds. Wings Books. New York. 1109 p.
I could tell my parents hated me. My bath toys were a toaster and a radio.—Rodney Dangerfield
Mid-March, while still technically winter, shows the stirrings of spring. From a birder’s perspective, this time of year along the Upper Texas Gulf Coast has much to offer. Although crane flies abound and provide snacks for songbirds, mosquitos have not yet hatched in significant numbers. Also, many wintering bird species remain, and early spring migrants are starting to appear. Of course, year-round residents continue to go about their business as always. All photos in this post were taken in March.
Also on the plus-side, March nests are easier to find than April ones because leaves are just beginning to fill out. So far, I’ve spotted an active Great Horned Owl nest at Brazos Bend, a Pileated Woodpecker cavity nest at the Edith L. Moore Nature Sanctuary, and a Red-headed Woodpecker cavity nest at Stephen F. Austin State Park. Red-shouldered Hawks are also nesting in the west Houston area. Obtaining good images of the occupants of these nests has so far remained elusive, though. Persistent cloudiness, rain, and blown-out white skies have doomed several attempts. Maybe next week!
Spring won’t let me stay in this house any longer! I must get out and breathe the air deeply again.—Gustav Mahler
Nothing beats being able to sneak up so close to a wild bird that it fills a significant fraction of the frame. And the crisp, fine detail of structure in feathers, scales, and eyes that is the gold standard of bird photography is hard to achieve unless you are very close. But often getting close is not possible. Birds are rightly suspicious of humans and their treachery and will bolt once the minimum approach distance is breached. Lemonade can be made from the lemons of avian suspiciousness, though.
Staying back a bit can allow the photographer to include a little more of the bird’s habitat. This context provides information on ecology and behavior. Details of background can provide the attentive viewer with information on habitat type and season. In contrast to the classic bird-on-branch shot, though, such images may require a tolerance for minor imperfections such as shadows and sticks and blades of grass that cut across the bird. Such things are hard to avoid when the bird is in habitat doing its thing. Often the insight gained by documenting birds in habitat can more than make up for some aesthetic shortcomings.
Unseasonably warm weather over the past week has has made me think about migration: Last weekend felt more like April (complete with mosquitos) than mid-December. Even in winter I like to review my Neotropical migrant songbird field marks lest I grow too rusty. The songbird return is only a few months away, after all.
One of the trickier points of identification that I hear birders argue about in the field is how to distinguish Louisiana from Northern Waterthrushes. Both waterthrush species are (rather strangely) wood warblers. Both are large-bodied, primarily ground foragers, and display a peculiar fore-and-aft rocking motion and tail-pumping behavior (not unlike Spotted Sandpipers!). But waterthrush species have very different biogeographic distributions. Northern Waterthrushes are much more wide-ranging birds than their Louisiana cousins. Northern Waterthrushes summer across Canada and Alaska and winter from the Mexican border to northern South America (with small pockets in Louisiana and Florida). The Northern Waterthrush is even listed in Birds of Peru as a vagrant. Louisiana Waterthrushes summer in the eastern U.S. and winter in Mexico and Central America (and just barely into the northern tip of South America). Texas Gulf Coast birders typically only see waterthrushes during migration, though.
Several reliable field marks distinguish waterthrush species. Throat color is probably the easiest single feature to check. Louisiana Waterthrushes have a predominantly white throat, and Northern Waterthrushes have strong brown stripes, becoming flecks, on a white background up to just beneath the mandible. The supercilium (eyebrow) in the Northern tapers to a point behind the eye, whereas in the Louisiana it tends to flair before termination. The feet of the Louisiana also tend to be a brighter shade of pink. Despite these field marks, though, I feel the overall look of these birds is the best path to identification. The Northern has crisper, sharper, and more contrasting markings. The Louisiana tends to look smoother and softer, with more blended transitions between patches of color over the entire body.
Well, now that we have identification issues sorted out for these two warbler species . . . there are only forty-seven more to go!
I know you’ve heard it a thousand times before. But it’s true – hard work pays off. If you want to be good, you have to practice, practice, practice. If you don’t love something, then don’t do it.—Ray Bradbury
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.
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.
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?
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 . . . .
The invariable mark of wisdom is to see the miraculous in the common.—Ralph Waldo Emerson
Last weekend Texas got its first real fall blast from the North. Saturday was especially lovely, and we spent the day on the Gulf Coast. Of course, by Monday the hot, humid, sweltering stuff returned and remained for the rest of the week.
Our usual coastal road trip runs from High Island down the Bolivar Peninsula, across the ferry to Galveston (where we often visit Pelican Island and Lafitte’s Cove), and then back to Houston. This time we started at Bryan Beach, visited the Quintana Neotropical Bird Sanctuary, traveled up Follett’s island, crossed the bridge to Galveston, visited Lafitte’s Cove, and returned to Houston.
The weather was spectacular at Bryan Beach. There were plenty of mosquitoes, but the brisk winds kept them off us. Having not birded on the Gulf for a couple of months we had to get over the shock (again) of just how much trash is deposited by filthy litterbugs on Texas beaches. We saw at least three white morph Reddish Egrets hunting among the rubbish on the shore face and in the lagoons. We also spent some time with a darling Piping Plover as it grabbed worms from the mudflats.
Standing on Follett’s Island, we saw a Magnificent Frigatebird sitting on a post in Christmas Bay. Before leaving Follett’s, we stopped briefly at a small nature preserve composed of salt marsh, stands of salt cedar, and beach habitat on the Gulf side of Follett’s Island within sight of San Luis Pass. I had a good laugh at one of the signs here. It noted how ranchers had planted salt cedars to provide shelter for their cattle, and now the salt cedars provide shelter for countless millions of migrating songbirds. Apparently no matter how egregious the violation of the environment, humans must be portrayed as heroes.
Lafitte’s Cove was hopping with warblers: Black and White, American Redstart, Nashville, and Wilson’s were in attendance. Here, as was often the case, flowers (some native and some non-native) were in bloom, and I spent some time working with a new toy in my bag, a 25mm extension tube. Extension tubes increase the magnification of a lens by increasing it’s image distance. After returning home I continued to turn the tube on a variety of flowers and arthropods. With continued practice, I hope to perfect my macro technique and see how the tube works with other lenses. Now, I eagerly await the next norther . . . .
The tints of autumn…a mighty flower garden blossoming under the spell of the enchanter, frost.—John Greenleaf Whittier
Over the past week we’ve been visiting our favorite springtime haunts and hotspots. The Smith Oaks Rookery on High Island was an explosion of color dominated by Snowy Egrets (some in breeding, some in high breeding colors), Great Egrets, Roseate Spoonbills and Neotropic Cormorants. At Lafitte’s Cove the Hooded Warbler invasion continued, accompanied by a new invasion of Orchard Orioles and Indigo Buntings. Tennessee Warblers and White-eyed Vireos were common, too.
Lafitte’s Cove is wonderful because in one small preserve one can explore oak motte, marsh, and prairie habitat. The motte, of course, is famous for migrating songbirds, but the marshes and ponds, too, are almost always productive during migrations. This time, at the pond south of the trail we saw Solitary Sandpipers and Long-billed Dowitchers, both firsts for us at this locale. Explorations continuing . . . .
For an occurrence to become an adventure, it is necessary and sufficient for one to recount it.—Jean-Paul Sartre
Last weekend evidence of spring was all around Galveston and environs. The big news at Lafitte’s Cove was the Hooded Warbler invasion. With the exception of Yellow-rumped Warblers (Myrtle Race—still waiting for Audubon’s), Hooded Warblers probably outnumbered all other warbler species combined. Black and White, Louisiana Waterthrush, Common Yellowthroat, Northern Parula, and Prothonotary Warblers were also in attendance. White-eyed Vireos were profuse at Dos Vacas Muertas and Lafitte’s Cove.
There was a notable uptick of numbers of birds that winter on the Gulf Coast, but have significant parts of their ranges to the south–Lesser Yellowlegs, Ruby-crowned Kinglets, and Blue-gray Gnatcatchers, for example. Lesser Yellowlegs winter on the southern parts of the Atlantic and Pacific U.S. Coasts, as well as the Gulf Coast, but range all the way down to Tierra del Fuego. Technically, I suppose, it’s impossible to tell if individual birds have moved far, but seeing Lesser Yellowlegs at Lafitte’s Cove and East Beach suggest to me that they are part of a big wave from the south.
On the flycatcher front: In a week or so, the trees of Lafitte’s Cove will be hopping with Great-crested, Least, and Yellow-bellied Flycatchers—but last weekend I only saw Great-crested Flycatchers. Observations are continuing . . . .
Now this is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning.—Winston Churchill
We’re just about there . . . just a few more days. Just a few more days until the most exciting birding of the year begins when hundreds of millions of birds begin pouring across and around the Gulf of Mexico. Sure, a few early birds are already moving through, but mostly it’s still the wintering species that I’m seeing. I also spotted some Wilson’s Plovers at East Beach. Many of these partial migrants extend their ranges north into Texas along the Gulf Coast of Mexico for the summer breeding season.
On a few occasions over the past several weeks, I could have taken additional opportunities to step out (and deal with the mobs of maniac drivers) and look around and see who’s around. But then I think about the date, at the time of this writing still not quite officially spring, and think no, it’s unlikely that anybody really interesting is around, yet. In retrospect, this was probably a mistake. No matter what the time of year, Texas birding can offer up surprises and new experiences—it’s just a matter of exercising the discipline to get out and look.
Let’s go. We can’t. Why not? We’re waiting for Godot.—Samuel Beckett, Waiting for Godot