Category Archives: In the neighborhood

On learning that crossbills were still in the neighborhood

In Long Branch, we stand beside a maintenance shed
of the county park service,
with its four-wheel drive pickup trucks
its piles of road salt
and its border of Japanese black pines.
We spend frigid minutes
shivering in the wind,
the sun warming our faces
and the hint of a warbled song
drifting down in a shower of winged scales.

With tear-stained cheeks and icy fingers
we point past the chain-link fence
to a pile of dirty snow
and a small reddish bird with crossed bill,
quenching its thirst.

Beyond the small group of latecomers, I watch
the green expanse of the Atlantic,
the gray gull, small and perfect as a toy,
that glides across the horizon.
We head back to the warm car;
our pursuit complete,
the promise of cocoa
or an overpriced Windmill hotdog,
with chili and cheese.

– – – – – – – – – – –

I can’t say anything about the Red and White-Winged Crossbills here at the Jersey Shore that hasn’t already been said, other than that they’re still in their expected place at Seven President’s Park. For whatever reason, I waited until the coldest day ever to go see them. Neat birds… certainly worth the frigid temperatures.

Crossbills are the only family of birds that have crossed mandibles; what might look like a deformity is, in fact, an adaptation for the bird’s feeding habits. Crossbills insert their closed bill into the side of a pine cone and then open it, tearing out the scale and exposing the seed within, which is then scooped out by their odd-shaped tongue. Aside from the quiet trilling, it was the sound of pine cones being torn open that gave away the Crossbills’ presence and allowed us to spot them in the shadowed pine trees.

These birds have been present at the park for nearly a month and those of us that venture over to see them must present something of a curiosity to people in the neighborhood… enough that they drive by to ask what in the world we’re looking at.

: )

Crossbills wander widely in the winter months, as do birders looking for rarities.

Invisibird

Brown Creeper, disappearing.

Were it not for their predictable habit of hanging out in the trees surrounding the Sandy Hook Bird Observatory and climbing upwards (but only partway!) before swooping down to the base of a nearby tree and starting their ascent all over again, I’d probably never notice them.

I did spend all that time watching kinglets yesterday tho, so my eyes had plenty of time to wander to the other birds who keep company with them.

Brown Creepers don’t look like much, but they’re a treat anyway and their song is sweet beyond words.

Where must a person live to hear Creepers sing regularly?

Petty kings

If only I’d gotten this hairdo…

combined with this expression!

: )

(I can’t stop giggling at this pic!)

I wandered around Sandy Hook hoping for my first Brant of the season, but found none, despite they’re being “in” already. Instead I spent the afternoon kicking up Golden Crowned Kinglets from the grass at my feet… such endearing little birds once you get eye level with them.

Eye level to a kinglet today meant parking myself in a sunny spot in the grass where they were feeding and waiting for them to come close enough… which garnered many a curious glance as I focused my lens at nothing very obvious to most people passing by.

It strikes me that bird photography, by necessity, is a solitary pursuit…

The post title refers to a translation of the genus name Regulus to which the kinglets belong; historical names include Flame-crest and Fiery-crowned Wren. The orange patch is only visible when a bird is excited or challenged by another. I think that’s what the show was about in that top photo, as two birds were feeding very close together at the base of the tree.

Some Sandy Hook birds

I wandered out the fisherman’s trail at Sandy Hook late this afternoon, mainly to see the flock of Black Skimmers that nested there – for the first time in 25 years – but also just to enjoy some time alone. The day was perfect; warm and breezy and the throngs of beach-goers were heading in the opposite direction from me. I had the beach to myself, save for the fishermen and a couple other birders.

A couple Ruddy Turnstones wandered by and had a bath as the tide rose around us. Turnstones seem nearly as tame as the Sanderlings, yet they’re much more gregarious.

Funny that I’m slowly learning the temperaments of shorebirds, even if I can’t identify them most of the time!

The terns here at Sandy Hook seem like they’re mostly done with feeding young, but still are spending a lot of time flying around, calling, with fish in their bills. Maybe parenthood is a hard habit to break. Maybe this fish was a bit too big and it was calling as an invitation to share.

A mystery for another summer, I guess.

The Black Skimmer colony is a joy… a finely choreographed chaos of long-winged birds and enough barking to drown out the sounds of the surf. Just amazing!

I couldn’t get anywhere near as close as to those in yesterday’s post (of the flock at the 2nd Ave. jetty in Cape May) but this is an active colony, with young birds not yet able to fly. By mistake I scared a couple fuzzy chicks out from their hiding spots behind bits of driftwood… that was enough to stop me in my tracks.

This pic is sweet, I think, because it shows the way that improbable bill of theirs lengthens and develops color as they age. The oldest bird, on the far left, was able to fly… the others not. I saw a couple that looked younger than even that one on the far right.

I feel very blessed that we have them breeding so close to home and hope they’ll be back at Sandy Hook next summer…

Always there’s one little Sanderling and I; this one almost too close for my camera.

: )

Here’s hoping your Labor Day was filled with similar pleasures.

Tern, tern, tern

The birds shrug off
the slant air,
they plunge into the sea
and vanish
under the glassy edges
of the water,

and then come back,
as white as snow,
shaking themselves,
shaking the little silver fish,
crying out
in their own language,
voices like rough bells–

it’s wonderful
and it happens whenever
the tide starts its gushing
journey back, every morning
or afternoon.

This is a poem
about death,
about the heart blanching
in its folds of shadows
because it knows
someday it will be
the fish and the wave
and no longer itself–
it will be those white wings,
flying in and out
of the darkness
but not knowing it–
this is a poem about loving
the world and everything in it:
the self, the perpetual muscle,
the passage in and out, the bristling
swing of the sea.

–The Terns by Mary Oliver from House of Light, 1990

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

All Commons, I guess. The Leasts are just too quick to photograph in the air. They’re still feeding babies on my favorite sandbar at Horseshoe Cove on Sandy Hook, but today there were far fewer loafing around. Maybe it’s just that the tide was higher this time.

I’m collecting tern poems if anyone has any to share…

Sea swallows

Field guides will tell you that terns are closely related to gulls and suggest that, because of similar feeding habits and a shared gregariousness, one might find all members of the Laridae family of birds equally deserving of our admiration.

That might be true for you, but I mostly ignore gulls in favor of terns. Exceptions to that are the handsome summer presence of Laughing Gulls and the dainty Bonaparte’s in winter.

In terns I see long fast wings that dance over the sun-dappled sea as it heaves at my feet…

and

the hover-and-plunge feeding technique so suited to little waves and the little fish they pluck from the shadows…

and

the dark eyes and sharp downward-pointed bills, the rising cloud of white birds and the storm of their cries all around me…

A particular joy at this time of the season, late July, when young terns and young osprey at Sandy Hook are learning to fish and to make their way in the world is to place myself among them on the bay near to sunset: behind every shell or pebble or bit of sea-drift is the possibility of a young bird waiting for its next meal delivery; a feathered army of birds marching ahead of me until finally I settle myself amongst them, drenched and soggy in the tide, sand-covered and happy.

: )

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Photos:

#1: Common or Forster’s? I’m thinking Common, but would welcome hints!

#2: Young Least Tern, begging (and squealing, almost!)

A bird in the hand

brings a quick smile to the face!

I wandered away for a bit on World Series Day to spend a couple minutes with Tom while he banded birds. This is his second spring at Sandy Hook and Saturday found his nets overflowing with migrants! Canadas, like this one, were everywhere… as were Magnolias and Wilson’s.

I hung around taking photos and waiting for the rest of the crowd to amble away… finally Tom asked me if I’d like to hold a Magnolia that he’d just finished processing.

Gasp!

I felt strangely hesitant and scared… I’d held birds before, hawks, even tiny hummingbirds, but only injured or window-strike dazed birds. These wide-awake and eager-to-go warblers frightened me with their flutterings and protests.

Silly me… it’s just a little bird!

I’m sure my face was as giddy as this lady’s was… to feel those feathers in my hand, that tiny beating heart beneath my fingers and its trembling…

A sweet unexpected gift.

: )

World Series 2010

They were almost delirious enough around 7 pm to smile at my camera without much prodding beyond, “Time for the obligatory group photo everyone!”

😉

We’d been out for better than 12 hours at that point and had just about tallied our total for the day, save for the odd swallow and a bittern that never materialized. It was a fabulous day for birds… the kind of day where you just want to plant yourself in one spot and watch wave after wave of migrants come to you; it was that good! Sandy Hook can be spectacular under the right conditions and this year’s World Series of Birding was just such a day. We ended with a record-setting (for us) 143 species!

And to think some birders go midnight to midnight and traipse across the whole state for less.

😉

Bad bird pics to follow, shortly. Previous posts about WSB are gathered here.