Spring comes on the World –
I sight the Aprils –
Hueless to me until thou come
As, till the Bee
Blossoms stand negative,
Touched to Conditions
By a Hum.—Spring comes on the world, Emily Dickinson
Let ’em Have it, Stan! Battling Common Moorhens, Pilant Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas. February through March is the time see Common Moorhens fight it out for territorial dominance in Texas marshes. Photo taken during the first week of February. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
Even though it’s the middle of winter, signs of the drive toward life and impending spring are all around, hinting at much greater changes to come.
Some herons, night-herons, egrets, and Double-crested Cormorants are sporting breeding plumes, some of the early bloomers like redbuds and Mexican plums are starting to pop, and there are splashes of color everywhere. Soon, the most exciting time of the year begins with the return of the spring migrants . . . .
A Snowy Egret Chick Stretches its Wings, Smith Oaks Rookery, High Island, Texas. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
Territorial displays and fights, singing, courtship and nesting behavior will be all around shortly, also. Baby birds will quickly follow. But, after a few months of chasing birds around in the Texas heat a new longing will begin . . . a longing for the first blue norther of fall . . . .
Monarch Butterfly,in Early Winter, South Padre Island, Texas. Canon EOS 7D/100mm f/2.8L IS Macro. High-speed synchronized ring-flash.
Until I know this sure uncertainty, I’ll entertain the offered fallacy.–William Shakespeare, The Comedy of Errors
Female Boat-tailed Grackle with Orthopteran (Conehead Katydid), Pilant Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
Birding is something I do alone, with Elisa, or with very small groups of people—so the impact and embarrassment of personal screw-ups has been limited. Field blunders have ranged from the minor (like calling a female Orchard Oriole a Prothonotary Warbler in front of the late Steve Gross) to silly, like hustling out the woods in grizzly country feeling like I was being hunted only to decide that it was all in my head! Probably.
In the imagination-getting-the-better-of-oneself scenario, a week or so ago I was on the levee between 40-acre and Pilant Lake when I heard a loud rustling coming from the rice on the edge of Pilant Lake. Whatever it was sounded big—and it sounded like there were several somethings. Would I see a row of feral pigs? Otters? Raccoons? Otters would be great! This could be exciting! A similar thing had happened before and a bobcat had poked its head out less than five yards in front of me!
So I fiddled with my gear in eager anticipation . . . when who popped out? A group of the noisiest grackles on the planet emerged from the vegetation, and they had nesting materials in their beaks. At least I got a few shots of that, I thought disappointedly. Later, while reviewing the images, I realized that it was not nesting materials that they had, but straw-colored katydids! The birds must have been in a line to flush out the insects. Without knowing it, I had likely observed avian cooperative hunting. I have seen Cattle Egrets doing much the same thing. So much for otters.
Male American Goldfinch (Nonbreeding) Plucking Seeds, Pilant Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm F/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
In the not-knowing-what-you’re-looking-at scenario, last week I was watching American Goldfinches chiseling into stems of an unidentified plant and plucking out tiny somethings. That’s weird, I thought, what could these birds be getting out of stems? Later, I brought up the question to a naturalist friend, and he quickly offered that insects had possibly infested the stems and the birds were simply fishing them out. But later while reviewing the images trying to identify the “insects,” I realized that the stems were not stems at all, but rather dried-out elongated seed pods, and the birds were (unsurprisingly) simply eating seeds! The whole conversation about insects in stems was like the Peanuts episode when Lucy and Linus wonder about how potato chips could migrate from Brazil (after misidentifying a potato chip as a beautiful yellow butterfly).
In my own defense, once in a while I see something unusual enough that I don’t feel silly when I misinterpret it. I remember photographing the Yellow-crowned Night-Heron below and feeling sorry that the poor animal had a growth on its lower bill. A few years later, while sifting through the archives I noted that it was not a growth, but rather a gar tooth that was protruding from the bill. The bird must have been hunting in the water when a gar bit it through the lower jaw. In the ensuing struggle, the tooth must have broken off.
Finally, this post reminds me of a question I often pose to myself: Do I see more when I am out photographing or when I am binocular birding? I’m pretty sure that I see more with binoculars alone because I’m not worrying about light, perspective, and so on. But then again, without images to check what I’ve been seeing, how do I really know that what I’ve been looking at it is what I thought I was looking at?
Juvenile Yellow-crowned Night-Heron with Lower Jaw Pierced by Gar Tooth, Elm Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
Shall I not have intelligence with the earth? Am I not partly leaves and vegetable mould myself.–Henry David Thoreau
A Gray Squirrel (Sciurus carolinensis) Munches Ashleaf Maple (Acer negundo) Seeds, near Elm Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas. Gray Squirrels subsist mainly on seeds and nuts, but also eat a variety of animal foods including bird eggs, amphibians, and insects. It’s fairly common to see Texas tree squirrels munching on cicadas when they’re around. Some references also report cannibalism. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
Frequent readers of this blog may know that I prize images of birds struggling with prey above all others. But sometimes the birds and mammals of the marsh and forest, either through preference or requirement, dine on plant foods—especially during the colder part of the year when insects and other arthropods are less abundant.
A Swamp Sparrow Plucks Seeds from an Unidentified Plant, Pilant Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas. Swamp Sparrows eat mostly grasshoppers during the warm months and seeds during the winter. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
It’s sometimes a challenge to identify animal prey items seized by birds and other animals. Plant foods are often even more of a challenge—unless the meal is something easy like hackberries, tallow seeds, privet fruits, maple seeds, and so on. Sometimes birds are munching seeds or buds of what I (as no botanist) consider fairly nondescript, difficult to identify plants. The fact that there are so many invasive species around these days only complicates the task. I will often make attempts at identification, but these are often frustrated by constraints of time and available references—but it’s fun to try!
An American Coot Forages for Aquatic Plants, Pilant Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas. Coots are primarily herbivores, but like many birds and small mammals, they will eat small animal prey (mostly mollusks and arthropods) and carrion. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
Charm is an intangible. Chutzpah, charm, charisma, that kind of thing, you can’t buy it. You either have it or you don’t.–Colm Feore
Tufted Titmouse, Edith L. Moore Nature Sanctuary, Houston, Texas (ELM). Image taken in February. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.
Among the most charming of the small songbirds are the titmice. Along the Upper Texas Gulf Coast, Tufted Titmice are common year-round. And they are a delight to encounter in the woods, as they peer back with those curious, yet suspicious eyes!
Tufted Titmouse Chick, ELM. Tufted Titmice nest at ELM. Image taken in March. Canon EOS 7D/100-400mm f/4.5-5.6L IS. Hand-held, natural light.
Tufted Titmice seem to prefer arthropod prey (including spiders and their egg cases), but will eat nuts, seeds, and fruit during the winter. They will also visit seed and suet feeders during the lean months, but to my eye, they never seem completely at ease in doing so, being true wild creatures of the forest.
Tufted Titmouse with Caterpillar, Tower Trail (Warbler Alley), Brazos Bend State Park. Titmice are great arthropod hunters. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
Small super-active songbirds like the titmice may be the supreme challenge for the bird photographer—especially under completely natural conditions (i.e., not baited and not near a feeder). Take a look at Elisa’s beautiful image of a singing Black-crested Titmouse from Lost Maples. We often see Bridled Titmice on our frequent trips to southeast Arizona, but I have yet to capture any really nice images (These birds are fast!).
We have seen all but two species of North American titmice: The Oak Titmouse (California), and the Juniper Titmouse (Southwest U.S., west of Texas). I have no doubt they will be just as challenging and charming as their Gulf-Coast kin!
Conversation about the weather is the last refuge of the unimaginative. –Oscar Wilde
Pine Siskin, Portal, Arizona. These birds are common across the Lower 48 in winter—except along the Gulf Coast. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
At some point during the winter, a major blue northern will, hopefully, blow through and stay. Until then we’ll check the radar and bore each other (and the ghost of Oscar Wilde) with endless conversations about the temperature, humidity, jet stream, and El Niño.
But even with the iffy weather, late fall and early winter seem to be the times for charming and oddball little discoveries. Last weekend the first real Arctic blast swept across Texas. Optimistically we headed to the Coast. But at 8 am Sunday on East Beach, Galveston the winds were howling so we aborted our attempts at shorebird photography (a strong wind can twirl the barrel of a supertelephoto lens around and conk an inattentive bird photographer across the skull!) and headed for Lafitte’s Cove.
Hoping the oak motte would expend some wind energy, we approached the trees. But alas, it was still too windy for big glass, and so we settled for binocular birding. On the way into the motte, we heard a Northern Mockingbird imitating the clattering call of a Belted Kingfisher—a first for us. Once in the trees, I spotted a Pine Siskin among a small group of American Goldfinches. This was my first ever sighting of a Pine Siskin on Galveston. Although (according to the literature) Siskins do rarely make it down to the Coast during winter, I have to think that this bird was blown off course by the massive cold front that had just arrived, perhaps 30 hours before.
Male House Finch with Yellow on Head and Throat, Houston, Texas. Color in male House Finches is a result of the mix of plant pigments found in their almost all-vegetable diet consumed during molting, such as carotenoids, but the biochemistry is complex. Female House Finches are thought to prefer males with redder coloration. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
In late fall/winter trees are bare, and as a result we see more songbirds than at any other time of the year. This is a good time to look for statistically rare individual color variations. Sometimes in winter, for example, it’s possible to observe diet-induced House Finch color variants, namely male birds with orange or yellow on their heads and throats (rather than red). I don’t know what the proportion of yellow- and orange-headed male House finches is—but it must be only one in dozens of birds.
This is also the time to really watch waders hunting. I’ve already mentioned the treefrog hunting that goes on around the southern margin of Pilant Lake (and I saw some more of that this week), but it seems that birds are having to work harder and are tapping somewhat atypical resources. The Little Blue Heron below, for example, was hunting in a patch of water hyacinth—and catching grasshoppers. Over the years I’ve watched Little Blues eat countless small fish, frogs and crayfish, but this is the first time I’ve seen one eating grasshoppers. Usually it’s Cattle Egrets that are grabbing katydids and grasshoppers. Perhaps times are getting a little lean, and everybody is a little less picky and willing to eat anything that moves.
Finally, the strangely warm and humid weather that has dragged deep into November has had one very nasty side effect: an explosion in the population of vicious biting gnats. I’ve always been sensitive to gnat bites, but these suckers raise huge itchy welts that hurt for days. On Wednesday of this week, gnats were so thick at Brazos Bend State Park that even the birds were being dogged by clouds of these nasties. So here I sit, hoping for a hard freeze to settle the bugs’ hash once and for all—and begin the real, lovely birding season.
Little Blue Heron with Orthopteran (Grasshopper), Elm Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas. Note that this bird is speckled with gnats. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
The acrid scents of autumn,
Reminiscent of slinking beasts, make me fear.–D. H. Lawrence, Dolor of Autumn, 1916
A Flock of Starlings (Mostly) and Brewer’s Blackbirds, Fort Bend County, Texas. Imagine the horror such a horde of implacable, ravenous mouths ready to devour seeds and crops would have struck in the hearts of early farmers in the ancient Middle East . . . and everywhere ever since. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
Elisa and I made the most of last weekend’s gorgeous weather and birded Brazos Bend State Park, both Saturday and Sunday. On the way back home Sunday, we saw a massive flock of blackbirds and Starlings in an agricultural field. Shortly thereafter, tapping some primal anxiety in the face of crops being stripped to the ground, I assume, Elisa brought up Genesis 1: 26, a verse we have both lamented and puzzled over . . .
And God said, Let us make man in our image, after our likeness: and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the earth, and over every creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth.
Could its sentiment be in response to an alternative viewpoint or movement, one that emphasized Man’s place in nature, rather than his supposed dominion over it? Was a reference to God’s will intended as an argument-ender—much as the Israelite claim on the very land of Canaan itself?
The putative author of Genesis is, of course, Moses. Tradition has it that this book was written around the 15th century B.C., during the Bronze Age. Agriculture was not new at this time. Surely some had noticed the impacts agriculture had upon the land, even in antiquity. Perhaps these hypothetical romantics turned their eyes back to a more ancient lifestyle, the way of the hunter-gatherer, a way that is now all but extinct. You will search in vain for a more succinctly articulated statement of mainstream Man’s attitude toward nature, or a more impactful one, than Genesis 1:26. Over the millennia, it has certainly proved the winning position . . . .
In any case, at Brazos Bend, the sights and sounds were typical for the season. Yellow-rumped Warblers, Tufted Titmice, Carolina Chickadees, and Carolina Wrens were everywhere in the hackberry, willow, and Chinese tallow trees that line the paths surrounding 40-acre, Pilant, and Elm Lakes.
A Great Egret Hunts Green Treefrogs on Vegetation, Pilant Lake, Brazos Bend State Park (BBSP), Texas. This bird carefully inspected the vegetation for hiding treefrogs, quite oblivious to the photographer and noisy mobs of passing Boy Scouts. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC).
But I can only report one new observation from these days at BBSP: A Great Egret hunted Green Treefrogs (Hyla cinerea) among the tall vegetation (mostly rice) along the southern margin of Pilant Lake (between the tower and the bridge). I have seen Little Blue Herons, Tricolored Herons, and American Bitterns hunting treefrogs in this area on previous occasions, but this is the first time I’ve seen a Great Egret doing it.
All four species have a similar hunting technique: rather than keeping their eyes down on the ground in search of fish, crawfish and other invertebrates, and other frog species, the birds carefully inspect the stalks of vegetation from top to bottom, and around all sides, and occasionally pick off the treefrogs. The treefrog hunting behavior is also quite different from when the waders are looking for dragonflies. Dragonfly hunting can involve snatching the insects from the air, or picking them off the very top of eye-height or shorter vegetation. As always, while hunting treefrogs these birds slide their heads back and forth like Hindu dancers apparently to use their stereoscopic vision to judge the exact distance for a strike.
It seems that Brazos Bend will often reward the vigilant observer with new sights, no matter how often one visits.
Little Blue Heron With Green Treefrog, Pilant Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas. This photo was taken almost a year to the day before the Great Egret image above: apparently November is the month for hunting treefrogs! Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
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.
Admiration and familiarity are strangers.–George Sand
Ta-Dah! Sunning Yellow-crowned Night-Heron, Elm Lake, Brazos Bend State Park (BBSP), Texas. This bird was exhibiting gular fluttering while sunning. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.
Last week we finally got back into the field for a few hours. Although one of the best birding spots in the country, Brazos Bend State Park is not what we consider a fall migration hot spot. But we decided to visit the park because our photographic skills are rusty due to summer traumas, and we thought that a familiar place might make getting back into the swing of things easier.
Admittedly, it’s sometimes difficult to maintain a fever-pitch of enthusiasm for such a familiar place. At BBSP I find myself looking for subtle new details I’ve not noticed before to stay interested and energized. For example, I’ve seen Yellow-crowned Night-Herons sunning in the above fashion several times before. But when I first saw this bird at distance, it had splayed out its primaries into a spiky display. By the time I hustled into shooting distance, though, the bird had settled into the somewhat familiar pose above—although the feathers at the wingtips were still a bit splayed. Maybe some day I’ll catch one of these birds in the act of the aforementioned display, perhaps providing clues as to what they’re really up to with this sunning behavior. Are these waders just drying the morning dew from their plumage? Or perhaps they’re treating parasites or infections with the purifying rays of the sun (as I’ve seen Green Herons do), or heating up bellies to aid in digestion–or something else? Further study is needed.
Also on Elm Lake, I caught the Pied-billed Grebe below as it took an exceptionally violent bath. At times it looked like a fountain was springing forth from the lake’s surface! As in the case above, I missed the real action as moments before this tough little bird had just grabbed a fish about one-third its size and . . . . down the hatch. Perhaps this grebe felt like cleaning up after a particularly tough fight and messy meal.
Finally, on this trip I was also trying to get used to my new Canon EOS 7D Mark II. This was only the third time in the field for the new body. I don’t feel I’ve achieved any better results yet with the Mark II than with my old 7D’s, although the new camera certainly feels better. It’s just a ridiculously well-made object. Frankly, it’s one of the best-built cameras I’ve ever held in my hands—even nicer than my old Leica and Contax cameras, which I consider to be works of art. At this point, this lack of better results is almost certainly due to operator error, as this camera is a technological tour de force. With practice, I hope to be able to live up to the potential of this remarkable instrument.
Motor Boat: Bathing Pied-billed Grebe, Elm Lake, BBSP. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.
He that will enjoy the brightness of sunshine, must quit the coolness of the shade.–Samuel Johnson
Garden Spider (Orb-weaver), Prairie Trail, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas. Argiope aurantia typically builds webs in protected areas on the edge of open spaces. This one built her web out on the prairie. Canon EOS 7D/100mm f/2.8L IS Macro. High-speed synchronized ring-flash.
In the summer, especially after about 9:30 am, it’s generally way too bright to do much good photo-birding (except maybe with some fill-flash), so I like to wander off into a grassy area and take advantage of the fireball in the sky and shoot some macro. Shooting with apertures smaller than f/11 requires intense light, so rather than being an obstacle to overcome, the blistering summer sun is actually a help.
Male Cloudless Sulphur (Phoebis sennae), Prairie Trail, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas. Canon EOS 7D/100mm f/2.8L IS Macro. High-speed synchronized fill-flash.
Birds of the grasslands are notoriously uncooperative photographic subjects, so I am used to coming away from prairies empty-handed as far as bird photos are concerned. Further, I have learned to be satisfied with other kinds of images from this habitat. I know that some can entertain themselves by shooting wildflowers, and I can too for a while, but I need to see an animal now and again to stay interested for more than an hour or two.
Because the majority of wildflowers are yellow or white (I think), I will often times make a special effort to track down and identify plants with blooms of different colors. Purples, oranges, and reds are my favorites because of the richness of the images they can provide. The Western Wallflower below, for example, attracted my attention from the road while driving through Rocky Mountain National Park. This plant produces a spectacular multicolored bloom to which no mere photo can really do justice.
Although we can get away from the Texas Gulf Coast for a few days now and again during the summer, the harsh reality its that we are stuck here most of the time. The Texas Gulf Coast summer is a nice mix of hurricanes, blistering sun and drought, and floods. And staying happy in the field at this time of year requires flexibility, a sense of humor, and the capacity to remain interested in a wide variety of photographic subjects—many times not including birds.
Western Wallflower (Erysimum capitatum), Rocky Mountain National Park, Colorado. Canon EOS 7D/100mm f/2.8L IS Macro. High-speed synchronized ring-flash.
He was born when I was six and was, from the outset, a disappointment.―James Hurst, The Scarlet Ibis: The Collection of Wonder
White Ibis Nest with Nestlings, Pilant Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas. This nest contains two nestlings: The one on the left is much larger. In this image, the parent is feeding the smaller of the two, and the larger chick is plotting to knock the smaller one from the nest, “accidentally,” of course. Note that this ibis nest, like the spoonbill nest below, is in an invasive Chinese tallow tree. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC).
After a photo-birder friend (LM) told me about the White Ibises nesting on the the south edge of Pilant Lake, I recently spent a few hours trying to photograph nestlings. Only one nest can currently be photographed (above), but there are many others back in the swamp—and the air is filled with the weird gurgling noises ibises make.
The one nest that can be seen is still rather difficult to photograph given its distance from the trail and the profusion of vegetation. But I could see that the nest contains two nestlings, one much larger than the other. Likely the smaller chick simply hatched later, the size disparity exacerbated by the bigger chick receiving more than its fair share of food along the way. Such a disparity in nestling size often spells doom for the littlest birds. In this case, though, the little bird is a real fighter and chased mom’s beak around relentlessly hoping for a morsel or two of regurgitated crawfish. I hope it makes it, although the odds may be against.
White Ibis with Crawfish, Pilant Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas. Ibises are enthusiastic consumers of aquatic arthropods. White Ibises nesting in salty environments will travel to freshwater environments to collect crawfish for their young. Baby ibises have poorly developed salt glands and can’t handle the high salt content of marine and brackish arthropods. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.
The long, curved beak of ibises is used to probe into burrows and crevices occupied by a variety of prey. The rapid up-and-down motion of the beak reminds me of a sewing machine. At BBSP, it’s common to see White and White-faced Ibises grabbing a variety of aquatic arthropods including predaceous diving beetles (larval and adult) and crawfish. Frogs and small fish are taken, too, as are the bulbs of some aquatic plants.
Roseate Spoonbill Nest with Nestlings, Smith Oaks Rookery, High Island, Texas. The chick on the far left is much smaller than the others. In Roseate Spoonbill nests that I have photographed, the smallest sibling is usually listless and helpless seeming, clearly not long for this world. The little bird above was consistently left out of the feeding frenzy initiated by the return of an adult bird. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
Spoonbills and ibises constitute the Family Threskiornithidae, the former being close relatives of the Old World Ibises. I tend to think of spoonbills simply as ibises with a specialized feeding strategy: Typically the bill is waved back and forth through the water to capture prey, vertebrate and invertebrate, which is then flipped up into the air and ingested (below).
Feeding Roseate Spoonbill, Myakka River State Park, Florida. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
We have seen all U.S. species of ibises, including the Scarlet Ibis, an exotic South American and Caribbean native that was introduced into Florida in 1961. We saw this species on Sanibel Island at the J.N. Ding Darling National Wildlife Refuge on the the west coast of Florida about seven years ago. A small group of these birds was walking along the strand line of this famously shelly beach. This sighting, dear reader, was before we were serious photo-birders, so you’ll just have to take my word that it occurred! We hope to return one day and document the behavior of these spectacular, brilliantly-colored Tropical birds.
White-faced Ibis (Non-breeding) with Predaceous Diving Beetle, Pilant Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
Scruffy-looking Molting Eastern Bluebird with Praying Mantis, W. G. Jones State Forest, Texas. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
From time to time, I’ll be going through old images when I suddenly discover something I overlooked or misinterpreted in the field. For example, I remember photographing the scruffy young Eastern Bluebird above because I had a hard time figuring out what the heck it was (until I saw another one in better plumage!).
I also remember being perplexed about why it was gathering nesting materials in November—normally that sort of thing should end around July or August. I probably just scratched my head and chalked it up to Texas and our subtropical climate. Birds here in the swelter zone can sometimes breed outside their usual temperate region breeding seasons.
But upon re-inspection of the image (I’m sure I chimped my settings in the field!) all is revealed: There are no nesting materials, but rather a twiggy-looking meal, namely a praying mantis! This has happened a few times now with mantids and phasmids, so it’s something to watch out for. Sometimes birds with sticks (apparently) actually have walking sticks!
Clapper Rail with Planarian (Flatworm), Anuhuac National Wildlife Refuge (ANWR), Texas. Note the worm’s triangular head poking out about half-way up the beak. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
Having images to study hours or months later allows for testing your notions of what you saw in the field and to even make brand new discoveries ex post facto. The Clapper Rail above, for example, was hunting along the margin of the water at ANWR last winter. I could tell that the bird was grabbing small fish and what looked like leeches. I have seen and photographed waders and other water birds eating leeches. Upon closer inspection of the images, though, it looks like this Clapper Rail has a big juicy planarian its beak—a first sighting for me.
On the other hand, I know that I see less overall in the field in the first place when I am photo-birding, rather than binocular birding. Just like the old joke where the guy is looking under the street light for his lost keys because this is where the light is best, it’s sometimes tempting to photo-bird only where the light is good. I have caught myself ignoring movement in gloomy or brushy areas simply because I knew that I couldn’t get a decent shot. So, in this case, contrary to the quote above, photography can help birders not to see.
Partridge-pea, Prairie Trail, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas. Canon EOS 7D/100mm f/2.8L IS Macro. High-speed synchronized ring-flash.
On a final note, Brazos Bend State Park re-opened July 8, and I was among the first members of the public to return post-flood. During the first half-hour there, I could feel the stress of life melt away. My general impression, though, is that there were not as many birds around as usual. I suspect that ground-nesting species of birds were drowned out. On the other hand, the mosquito and gnat populations were certainly healthy, as was the frog population. Perhaps the waders will rediscover the park and its bonanza of amphibians.
Most interesting to me was that the Prairie Trail looked different from usual as regards summer wildflowers. A few regulars were around like widow’s tears, but what struck really me was the profusion of partridge-pea (Chamaecrista fasciculata). This common legume is native to most of the eastern U.S. and is known to thrive in disturbed areas, such as those recently burned, and apparently recently flooded. It will be interesting to document how quickly the park returns to its former glory.
I heard myself proclaimed,
And by the happy hollow of a tree
Escaped the hunt . . . . from King Lear, William Shakespeare
The Tree: Female Mountain Bluebird in Nest Cavity in Ponderosa Pine, Upper Beaver Meadows, Rocky Mountain National Park, Colorado. This bird had to bum-rush an inquisitive Northern Flicker (Red-shafted) from the cavity. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC).
One of the places we made a special point to visit while at Rocky Mountain National Park was a notable large, dead Ponderosa Pine at Upper Beaver Meadows. A birder friend from Houston Audubon (SM) first told us about The Tree when we mentioned that we were going to RMNP. We tried in vain several times to find it on our own, but finally a park ranger explained exactly where it was. The Tree turned out to be a spectacular spot to photograph cavity nesting birds. In this tree alone we saw Mountain Bluebirds, Red-naped Sapsuckers, Pygmy Nuthatches, House Wrens, and Violet-green Swallows nesting. A Northern Flicker even came by and checked out the Bluebird nest as if to say: “What are you doing in my cavity? I dug it, you squatter!”
Five species nesting in one tree beats our previous record of seeing Pileated, Downy, and Red-bellied Woodpeckers, plus Prothonotary warblers nesting in a single tree at BBSP. But The Tree likely contains even more nesting species as there were more holes and several other species of cavity nesters are very common in the area, namely Hairy Woodpeckers and American Tree Swallows (not to mention Western Wood-Peewees). The mind reels at the thought of a single tree with eight or more cavity-nesting species inside!
Rare Bird: Red-cockaded Woodpecker near cavity nest in pine tree. W. G. Jones State Forest, Texas. Note the waterfall of sticky yellow resin. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.Red-headed Woodpecker on Pine Tree, W. G. Jones State Forest, Texas. Elisa caught this bird beginning a new excavation. Canon EOS 500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
A place we’ve been meaning to spend some more time looking for cavity nesters is the W. G. Jones State Forest near Conroe, Texas. This area is home to nesting clusters of Red-cockaded Woodpeckers. This interesting and endangered species has a few tricks up its sleeves in terms of cavity nesting.
These birds drill upward through the sapwood and then downward into the heartwood of pine trees. The birds prefer to excavate into trees with a fungal infection of the heartwood called red heart. This disease softens the wood and makes excavation of the cavity easier. Interestingly, active Red-cockaded Woodpecker nests are easy to spot because of the river of resin that flows downward from around the cavity entrance. Red-cockaded Woodpeckers drill and maintain extra holes into the sapwood around the cavity (resin wells) to keep the resin flowing. The resin is a natural deterrent for nest-raiding snakes.
The Jones Forest is also home to one of my favorites, the Red-headed Woodpecker. Of all the North American woodpeckers, this bird is perhaps the most active hunter of larger prey, and one of my dreams is to capture photographically a Red-headed Woodpecker dragging a mouse or lizard into a cavity nest.
Mean ol’ Chickeree. Pine Squirrel in Cavity in Aspen Tree, MacGregor Mountain Lodge, Colorado. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
Finally, as noted in the last post, the lodge we visited in Colorado (MacGregor Mountain Lodge) was a great spot for cavity nesting. One morning I was hoping to capture some images of a Hairy Woodpecker or Red-naped Sapsucker entering or leaving a nest cavity. So I found an appropriately sized hole and waited patiently. After just about giving up, I detected movement inside the nest: Here we go! I thought. But who should appear? A lousy Pine Squirrel! A mean ol’ Chickeree spoiled my morning! Just like a nasty old Fox squirrel foiled Elisa’s attempt to capture some Wood Ducks entering or leaving a nest box at BBSP!
