Of all the passions of mankind, the love of novelty most rules the mind. In search of this, from realm to realm we roam. Our fleets come loaded with every folly home.—Foote, in Treasury of Wisdom, Wit, and Humor by Adam Wooléver (1891, 5th ed., p.301)
Female Green Kingfisher, World Birding Center, Edinburg, Texas. Although cagey and suspicious, kingfishers are among my favorite birds. Whenever I hear their clicking (or clattering, depending on species), I hope for a photo-op . . . but they rarely oblige. This was my first quality encounter with a Green Kingfisher. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
As one tied to the work-a-day world most of the time, finding new things in the field is always exciting. First (quality) encounters with species are my favorites, but observing new behaviors by familiar ones often must suffice. Last weekend, for example, a naturalist friend (RD) pointed out the barn spider below apparently eating her own web—something I’d not seen a spider do before. It is widely held that spiders do eat webs to re-utilize protein, and the one below appeared to be doing just that.
A Barn Spider Consumes Her Own Web, Pilant Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas. Eventually the spider ate the entire strand to the upper right. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS. Natural light.
But based on the severe limitations of time and money, I usually have to find “novelty” where I can. For example, the recent shot below of a newly-returned-from-the-Arctic-for-the-winter Black-bellied Plover may reflect my closest contact with this species.
Admittedly the self-imposed pressure of always looking for new things can sometimes defeat the purposes of amateur nature photography: learning about nature and relieving the stress and strain of daily life and possibly extending life itself. Elisa is clearly better at simply getting out there and enjoying the sights and sounds and sensations. I have to (paradoxically) work on not working so hard.
Portrait: Black-bellied Plover, East Beach, Galveston Island, Texas. By October, many shorebirds have returned to the Texas Gulf Coast for winter. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
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
Tsveet tsveet tsveet . . . Singing Male Golden Swamp Warbler, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas. This fellow is nesting in Nest Box 24. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
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.
Immature Male Summer Tanager, Lafitte’s Cove, Galveston Island, Texas. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.
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.
Eastern Wood-pewee at Lafitte’s Cove, Galveston Island, Texas. Many flycatchers are like peas in a pod, but Eastern Wood-pewees can be identified by their weak, partial posterior eye-ring, two weak wing bars, and yellow lower beak. Eastern Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.
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.
Short-billed Dowitcher, East Beach, Galveston Island, Texas. Short-billed Dowitchers winter along the Texas Gulf Coast and breed across Canada and Alaska at the latitude of Hudson Bay. Short-billed Dowitchers and Long-billed Dowitchers are very hard to tell apart. In breeding plumage, Short-bills are orangish and Long-bills are brick-reddish, but light can play tricks. I always measure the proportions of the bird’s head in my images to be sure. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May . . . . –William Shakespeare
Last weekend the weather was spectacular, and Elisa and I took full advantage. East Beach, Galveston Island, Texas was our first stop of the weekend. We were surprised to find a large flock (100+) of American Avocets, mostly in breeding color (rusty-red/cinnamon head, neck, and breast) in the main lagoon just south of the parking area.
The main breeding range of the American Avocet is from the Texas Panhandle to south-central Canada, west to the Pacific Coast. American Avocets also breed along the South Texas Gulf Coast. There is a wintering population of Avocets all along the Gulf Coast, but we don’t typically see them in breeding colors this far north.
As we watched the ruddy-faced flock, we soon we noticed that some pairs were engaged in their charming and elegant courtship and mating behaviors. All images in this post taken with a Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC) under natural light.
Mating American Avocets 1: The Female Presents.
After photographing birds in the lagoon for a time, I walked south along the strand line of the Gulf. On the return hike, about a dozen Avocets flew from the lagoon and landed right in front of me in a few inches of Gulf water. One pair began courtship behavior almost immediately, as shown in this sequence of images. First, the female presented herself to the flapping and splashing male by holding her body parallel to the ground.
Mating American Avocets 2: Mounting. Note the more strongly upturned beak of the female.
The male soon mounted the female and copulation began. In about a minute, the act was complete, and the elegant post-mating dance began . . . .
Mating American Avocets 3: Interplay of Beaks.
The pair crossed beaks as they walked along together. They then separated bills and walked together side-by-side, necks strongly inclined forward.
Mating American Avocets 4: Leaning Forward.
After a few seconds, the birds rotated their necks into a vertical position, with bills pointed strongly downward. The pair walked along together in this posture for a few paces. Necks became more vertical as the pair promenaded along together for a few paces, then separated. Soon, they were again threshing the water for prey.
Marbled Godwit in High Breeding Colors (with orange-based bill), first week in April, East Beach, Galveston Island, Texas. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
Having read a report of a sighting of a Hudsonian Godwit on Galveston several weeks ago, I recently kept an eye out for them among the flocks of Marbled Godwits on East Beach. For a few minutes I thought I had a Hudsonian Godwit in the viewfinder: The bird above has a bright orange bill base, and the back appears quite dark. The colors and barring on the underside of the bird, however, really seem to indicate that this is a Marbled Godwit. The vast majority (all but one it turns out!) of Marbled Godwits I have ever seen have had pink bill bases—even all the other Marbled Godwits I saw in the same flock on the same morning in early April (next two images) had pink-based bills. So what gives? Could this be sexual dimorphism? Breeding color? A little reading was in order.
Marbled Godwit in Breeding Colors (with pink bill base), first week in April, East Beach, Galveston Island, Texas. Note the barring on the breast and underside. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
As far as field marks are concerned, Marbled Godwits show only a hint of sexual dimorphism, females being slightly larger (by millimeters on average) than males (Ayala-Pérez et al., 2013), but no reported obvious color differences—so no help here. In Arthur Morris’ Shorebirds: Beautiful Beachcombers (1996), however, he explained that the orange-based bill in Marbled Godwits is a result of hormone level—during a time of “full breeding plumage.” I suppose that this is similar to the case of the Snowy Egret. The lores and feet are yellow in “breeding” and pinkish red in “high breeding.” I have seen Snowy Egrets sitting on nests in both breeding and high breeding color, though, so I’m not clear if there are any behavioral differences tied to these color differences, or what specific event in the reproductive cycle, if any, is tied to the appearance of high breeding color. More research and observation on my part are clearly required.
Marbled Godwit in Nonbreeding Colors (with pink bill base), first week in April, East Beach, Galveston Island, Texas. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
In spring on the Texas Coast, Marbled Godwits appear in a variety of color schemes before they depart for their breeding grounds in the Upper Midwest, Canada, and Alaska. When they return in the fall, they show up in faded breeding colors, but will be sporting (you guessed it!) pink bill bases. Given that Marbled Godwits winter along the Gulf Coast, this is probably how most Texas birders see them—but it’s fun to see them in other colors.
Marbled Godwit in Faded Breeding Colors on Wintering Grounds (with pink-based bill), late October, East Beach, Galveston Island, Texas. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light (the second, lower catchlight is from the sun’s reflection off the surface of the water).
References
Ayala-Pérez, V., Carmona, R., Baker, A.J., Farmer, A.H., Uraga, and Arce, N. 2013. Phenotypic Sexing of Marbled Godwits (Limosa fedoa): A Molecular Validation. Waterbirds36(4): 418-425.
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
Female Summer Tanager with Mulberry, Pelican Island, Texas. Tanagers love mulberries. Unfortunately a major Texas A&M building project on Pelican Island has restricted access to most of the mulberry trees that were a reliable place to see migrant tanagers, orioles, buntings, Dickcissel, and others. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
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.
Male Indigo Bunting in Breeding Colors on Mulberry Tree, Pelican Island, Texas. Indigo buntings are generalist feeders and eat buds, seeds, fruit, and insects. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.Male Scarlet Tanager with Bee, Pelican Island, Texas. Scarlet Tanagers are generalist feeders, but prefer bees, when available. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
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.
Male Orchard Oriole with Pollen on His Face, Lafitte’s Cove, Galveston Island, Texas. Orchard Orioles eat primarily insects during the breeding season, but will supplement their diets with seeds, fruits, pollen, and nectar. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.
The ghostly winter silence had given way to the great spring murmur of awakening life.—Jack London, The Call of the Wild
Last weekend we took advantage of the spectacular weather and visited a number of our favorite birding haunts, including East Beach, Lafitte’s Cove (both Galveston Island, Texas), Pelican Island, and Brazos Bend State Park (BBSP). We visited the coastal sites with an eye toward seeing migrants, but alas there were no surprises, only the usual customers for this time of year both on the beach and in the motte.
At Brazos Bend State Park, Pilant Lake was again hopping with American Bitterns. They were busy hunting, singing, and displaying. On this visit, I caught one bird singing right out in the open in beautiful morning light around 7:45 am.
The song of the American Bittern, expressed onomatopoetically as oonk-a-loonk, is sometimes described as territorial and likely has a significant infrasonic component, below the threshold of human hearing. The singing is accompanied by a labored-looking performance in which the feathers of the head, neck, and shoulders (white shoulder plumes) are repeatedly roused and flattened. The beak is snapped shut producing a click that is apparently part of the song.
A bittern’s song is clearly aimed at other bitterns in the marsh as they answer each others’ calls. What exactly is being communicated is in question as these birds are on their way to breeding grounds far north of coastal Texas, and they are not likely carving out territories at BBSP. Perhaps they are merely exercising and practicing for the important performances to come on actual breeding grounds.
The series of six images below records one song, a wavelength, if you will, within a performance that may contain many repetitions of the same. All images were taken with a Canon EOS 7D + 600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC) under natural light, and are uncropped. Something approximating 0.5 seconds separates each frame.
Singing American Bittern 1, Pilant Lake, BBSP, Texas.Singing American Bittern 2, Pilant Lake, BBSP, Texas.Singing American Bittern 3, Pilant Lake, BBSP, Texas. Note the nictitating membrane.Singing American Bittern 4, Pilant Lake, BBSP, Texas.Singing American Bittern 5, Pilant Lake, BBSP, Texas.Singing American Bittern 6, Pilant Lake, BBSP, Texas.
Gulf Coast Winterer: Cedar Waxwing, Lafitte’s Cove, Galveston Island, Texas. Berry-seeking nomads, Cedar Waxwings winter from across the southern U.S. to South America and summer from the southern U.S. to Canada south of Hudson Bay. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
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.
Year-round Resident: Inca Dove, Lafitte’s Cove, Galveston Island, Texas. Inca doves are secretive, hiding in low vegetation. Canon 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
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!
Neotropical Migrant: Male Northern Parula, Lafitte’s Cove, Galveston Island, Texas. Northern Parulas breed across the eastern U.S. and winter across the Caribbean, South Florida, and the Rio Grande Valley down to Panama. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.
Spring won’t let me stay in this house any longer! I must get out and breathe the air deeply again.—Gustav Mahler
Northern Waterthrush, Lafitte’s Cove, Galveston Island, Texas. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.
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!
Louisiana Waterthrush, Lafitte’s Cove, Galveston Island, Texas. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized flash.
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
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.
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 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 (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 (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
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 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
A Wilson’s Warbler, Lafitte’s Cove, Galveson Island, Texas. Most likely scenario: This bird summered in Canada and is on his way to Mexico or Central America—although he could remain in Texas for the winter. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.
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.
Ipomoea quamoclit (hummingbird vine), Houston, Texas. This lovely little morning glory is native to the Neotropics, but has apparently gained a foothold in Houston. I found this plant growing “wild” along a bayou among more typically encountered morning glory species. Canon EOS 7D/100mm f/2.8L IS (+25mm extension tube II). High-speed synchronized ring flash.
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 . . . .
Gastracantha cancriformis (smiley-face or spiny-backed orbweaver spider), Houston, Texas. Canon EOS 7D/100mm f/2.8L IS Macro (+25mm extension tube II). High-speed synchronized ring flash.
The tints of autumn…a mighty flower garden blossoming under the spell of the enchanter, frost.—John Greenleaf Whittier
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 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 atBrazos 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
