waders

Photo-birding Serendipity

Dans les champs de l’observation le hasard ne favorise que les esprits préparés.—Louis Pasteur

Photo-birding Rufous Hummingbird in Flight
Rufous Hummingbird in Flight, Franklin Mountains State Park, Texas. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4c TC). High-speed synchronized flash.

Pasteur’s brilliant and famous expression above (“Chance favors the prepared mind” in streamlined English translation) is undoubtably one of life’s great truths. Ultimately, seeing a particular bird species or avian behavior is a matter of chance. In all the singular sightings of difficult-to-see species (Tropical Parula, Red-faced Warbler, Clay-colored Robin, Black Rail, etc) that I’ve made, I realize that had I been looking in a slightly different direction for a fraction of a second, I would have missed the bird entirely. But being in the right place at the right time to even have a possibility of making the observation in the first place is decidedly a matter of preparation (and effort), not chance.

Photo-birding Immature Golden-fronted Woodpecker with Giant Walkingstick, Estero Llano Grande State Park, Texas
Immature Golden-fronted Woodpecker Tearing Apart a Giant Walkingstick (Megaphasma dentricus), Estero Llano Grande State Park, Rio Grande Valley, Texas. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.

Photographing birds is even more subject to the vagaries of chance than simply seeing birds. A passing cloud, a wind gust, a stray blade of grass in front of the subject, stepping in a hole or ant nest, or getting stung in face by a nasty bug at the precise moment a shutter should have been activated can all doom a photo that, a fraction of a second before, held great promise. The fact that rare, unpredictable natural events can be captured at all is sometimes a matter of some amazement to me given the difficulty of the problem. I think, for example, that after thousands of hours of photo-birding I’ve seen birds eating walkingsticks a total of three times in my life, and, incredibly, I was able to photograph it each time! On the other hand, I’ve never captured a single decent image of some species of birds I’ve seen dozens of times!

Photo-birding Reddish Egret, Bryan Beach, Texas
Double Wing-fishing Reddish Egret with Beak Breaking the Surface, lagoon behind Bryan Beach, Texas. Surprisingly, to me at least, Reddish Egrets keep their eyes open during the impact with water. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

From time-to-time, I talk with photographers who have quit trying to photograph birds, or are at least considering quitting. They cite the difficulty and not getting any good results. What they seem to be hoping for is serendipity, or at least great good fortune. But after slogging through swamps and jungles, being pelted by rain and blasted by the sun from deserts to plains and mountain-tops, and shooting tens of thousands of images, I’ve started to doubt that serendipity or even good luck is much of a factor in photo-birding. I think that there are only drive and statistics. If you want some bird photos, then clear your calendar, break out the sunscreen and bug repellent, and get out there and photograph some birds (and enjoy the process)!

Photo-birding Gull with Needlefish, Hans and Pat Suter City Wildlife Park, Corpus Christi, Texas
Laughing Gull (Nonbreeding) with Needlefish, Hans and Pat Suter City Wildlife Park, Corpus Christi, Texas. Elisa recorded this interaction at dusk one Thanksgiving. I’ve never seen one of its kind again. I’ll keep looking. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

©2016 Christopher R. Cunningham and Elisa D. Lewis. All rights reserved. No text or images may be duplicated or distributed without permission.

Lean to Bountiful: Birding Late Winter into Spring

After months of want and hunger, we suddenly found ourselves able to have meals fit for the gods, and with appetites the gods might have envied.–Ernest Shackleton

Immature Red-shouldered Hawk with Common Moorhen, Pilant Slough, BBSP
Rough Day on the Slough: Immature Red-shouldered Hawk with Common Moorhen, Pilant Slough, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas. This young raptor has an injured or infected eye. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

The current seasonal transition got me thinking about the life struggles of birds. As a birder, I look forward to the coming spring and summer with a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. Yes, there will be be many interesting sights and sounds to experience. But the return to the sweltering heat, blistering sun, and the ubiquitous biting insects (Zika, anyone? Chikungunya?) can and will put a damper on many a trip. The loveliness of the Texas winter for the birder disguises the fact that for birds, these are hard times. Food is in short supply and a hard freeze out of the blue can spell death subtropical species that wander just a little too far north.

Clapper Rail with fish, Anahuac National Wildlife Refuge, Texas
Clapper Rail with Fish, Anahuac National Wildlife Refuge, Texas. This lucky bird found a rich patch of habitat and snapped up fish after fish! Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

Birds that would prefer a juicy arthropod, may now have settle to settle for a dried out seed or two. But change is coming! Buds are appearing, and flowers are starting to buzz with insects. Once the spring really gets rolling and winter moves out, the birds here in North America now will have a brief stretch of time to dine with little competition. Soon, though, hundreds of millions of hungry avian Neotropical migrant mouths will arrive, and the hardscrabble competition for food will begin again!

White-faced Ibis with Bulb, Elm Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas
White-faced Ibis (Nonbreeding) with Bulb, Elm Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas. This bird would prefer a juicy dragonfly naiad or frog, but may have to settle for a marsh plant bulb today. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.

©2016 Christopher R. Cunningham. All rights reserved. No text or images may be duplicated or distributed without permission.

A Birding Comedy of Errors

Until I know this sure uncertainty, I’ll entertain the offered fallacy.–William Shakespeare, The Comedy of Errors

Female Boat-tailed Grackle with Orthopteran, Piland Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas
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) placking seeds, Pilant Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas
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, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas
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.

©2016 Christopher R. Cunningham. All rights reserved. No text or images may be duplicated or distributed without permission.

Birds Fishing at Low Tide

If the earth should cease to attract its waters to itself all the waters of the sea would be raised and would flow to the body of the moon.—Johannes Kepler, Astronomia nova (1609)

Among all the great men who have philosophized about this remarkable effect, I am more astonished at Kepler than at any other. Despite his open and acute mind, and though he has at his fingertips the motions attributed to the earth, he nevertheless lent his ear and his assent to the moon’s dominion over the waters, to occult properties, and to such puerilities.–Galileo Galilei, Dialogue Concerning the Two Chief World Systems (1632)

Great Blue Heron with fish, Frenchtown Road, Bolivar Peninsula, Texas
Great Blue Heron with Killifish, tidal channel near Frenchtown Road, Bolivar Peninsula, Texas. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

Last weekend offered up the most spectacular weather imaginable, and we headed to East Beach, Galveston and Frenchtown Road, Bolivar. Arriving at low tide, our timing was perfect. Both these localities present exceptional naturalist experiences, especially at low tide. Where else is there evident a more elegant connection between the astrophysical, geological, and biological worlds than in an intertidal zone?

Cormorant with fish, Frenchtown Road, Bolivar Peninsula, Texas
Neotropic Cormorant with Killifish, tidal channel near Frenchtown Road, Bolivar Peninsula, Texas. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

At East Beach we watched Greater and Lesser Yellowlegs hunt among the ripple marks, tidal channels, and pools abandoned by the retreating tides. Vast flocks of Black Skimmers whirled overhead and large numbers of gulls, terns, and American White Pelicans gathered on emergent sand bars.

Near Frenchtown Road, low tide means that oyster patch reefs are exposed, and Red-breasted Mergansers, cormorants, and waders fished in the tidal channels between the reefs. Shorebirds like American Avocets, Willets, and dowitchers hunted among the exposed clusters of oysters. Forster’s Terns were plucking small fish from the surface waters of the channels. I was surprised to observe the Willet below catching fish in the shallows between patch reefs—usually these birds are grabbing crabs from among the oysters.

Frustratingly, I realized that (being a landlubber from Minnesota) I do not know my Gulf Coast tidal zone fishes, so I could not identify any of the birds’ menu items. To remedy this situation, this week I ordered a copy of Fishes of the Gulf of Mexico: Texas, Louisiana, and Adjacent Waters by Hoese and Moore. It will sit next to my Peterson Field Guide to Freshwater Fishes of North America North of Mexico—so soon I’ll at least have a shot at identifying piscine prey, no matter the salinity.

Willet with fish, Frenchtown Road, Bolivar Peninsula, Texas
Willet with Blenny, oyster reef near Frenchtown Road, Bolivar Peninsula, Texas. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

©2016 Christopher R. Cunningham. All rights reserved. No text or images may be duplicated or distributed without permission.

Photographing Birds in Gloomy Weather

A cloudy day or a little sunshine have as great an influence on many constitutions as the most recent blessings or misfortunes.–Joseph Addison

Reddish Egret in the Fog, South Padre Island Birding Center, Texas
Reddish Egret in the Fog, South Padre Island Birding and Nature Center, Texas. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

I am sometimes surprised by which images turn out and which don’t. Light is magic, and photography is all about light. By magic I mean inexplicable—or at least very hard to explain in the context of how a camera records light. Case in point: we were recently attempting to photograph Sandhill Cranes in a field on Galveston Island. It was a clear, beautiful day, and I had a distant but unobstructed view of the birds. I wasn’t expecting National Geographic results because the cranes were too far away, but shot after shot was utter garbage.

The humidity was low (which was good), but it was windy (which was bad). I could tell that the UV index was high (I got a sunburn through sunscreen), and I just couldn’t achieve focus using autofocus or manual focus. I first tried bracing the lens on a fence post with image stabilization turned on, then off. When that failed, I returned to best practices: tripod with cable release. But still, everything farther than about ten yards away was blurry and washed out. Was invisible (to the unaided eye) turbulence creating some sort of mirage-like effect? I turned the camera on and off—even switched bodies thinking that there was a malfunction. Somehow, conditions simply weren’t right for photography—black magic. The next day I looked like W. C. Fields with windburn, sunburn, and a bar tan.

Semipalmated Plover, South Padre Island Birding Center, Texas
What a Shorebird Sees: Mostly Mud. Semipalmated Plover, South Padre Island Birding and Nature Center, Texas. Sandpipers and plovers scurry along the tidal mudflats all day day long waiting for infaunal invertebrates to betray their positions. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

Other days, with fog or rain or lots of gray gloomy clouds, strangely, and against all odds, some nice images can be captured—white magic. I know that some photographers and viewers even prefer the look of results achieved during these dark, gloomy overcast days. All the images in this post were taken on a road trip to South Texas a few years ago. In fact, all were taken on the same day, except the kingfisher. And it was a winter like this one, with lots of rain and clouds and fog and mist and cursing by yours truly.

Female Green Kingfisher, South Texas
Female Green Kingfisher, South Texas. We found this bird at a strange little city park in South Texas. I remember the day (we sneaked up on a Harris’s Hawk that was hiding in a bush), but can’t recall the name of the town. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural gloomy light.

Of course, these dark days test your skills. To keep ISO below 800 for reasonable image quality means shooting at ridiculously slow shutter speeds (like 1/80 to 1/320) and breaking the 1/f shutter speed rule that I like to follow–even on a tripod with cable release. At these slow speeds, you’re in mirror-slap territory, especially on a tripod, and any puff of wind or contact with the gear can have deleterious effects. And patience is required to capture even the hint of a catchlight, an important aspect of wildlife photography.

Finally, because I pursue this hobby for personal growth and physical and mental health, seeing sunlight is so important. Like most Americans I suspect that I am Vitamin D deficient due to being cooped up so much at work. On these gray days, the spirits lift during an occasional sunbreak. The image of the Common Yellowthroat below was happily captured at the end of a gloomy, misty day just as the clouds parted (finally!) at dusk.

Common Yellowthroat, South Padre Island Birding Center, Texas
Common Yellowthroat among Cattails, South Padre Island Birding and Nature Center, Texas. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

©2016 Christopher R. Cunningham. All rights reserved. No text or images may be duplicated or distributed without permission.

Watching for . . . Winter Stuff

Conversation about the weather is the last refuge of the unimaginative. –Oscar Wilde

Pine Siskin, Portal, Arizona
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.

House Finch with Yellow, Houston, TX
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
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.

©2015 Christopher R. Cunningham. All rights reserved. No text or images may be duplicated or distributed without permission.

November’s Musings: Of Starlings and Treefrogs

The acrid scents of autumn,
Reminiscent of slinking beasts, make me fear.–D. H. Lawrence, Dolor of Autumn, 1916

Flock of Blackbirds and Starlings, Fort Bend County, Texas
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, Pilant Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas
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 Tree Frog, Pilant Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas
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.

©2015 Christopher R. Cunningham. All rights reserved. No text or images may be duplicated or distributed without permission.

Seas and Shores of the Imagination

We climb a ridge, and a shout of surprise involuntary arises from our lips as we find the waters replete with strange animals, and the sun above us darkened by the wings of great flying dragons . . . . Charles H. Sternberg (Popular Science News, December, 1898)

Pelicans Soar Above Turbulent Seas, Bryan Beach, Texas
Pelicans—or if You Squint, Pterosaurs–Soar Above Turbulent Seas, Bryan Beach, Texas. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

Last Sunday we took an excursion to Bryan Beach and the lagoons behind. On this day, the seas were rough, and I watched in awe as Brown Pelicans sailed through the troughs of a churning waterscape. I couldn’t help but think of the spectacular scenes of the Late Cretaceous Epoch painted by Charles R. Knight (at the absolute height of his powers) for the Field Museum of Natural History in Chicago in the late 1920’s—especially the oft-reprinted breaching mosasaur and turtle with Pteranodon skimming the giant swells in “turquoise, gray, and rose” (Knight’s words).

 

I like to imagine that places like Bryan Beach and environs are not unlike much of what Midcontinent North America was like when the Western Interior Seaway connected the Gulf of Mexico with the Arctic. But of course there are tremendous differences: Texas Gulf Coast bays, for example, typically have only about 15 cm of tidal variation in sea-level, but mathematical models of the Western Interior Seaway suggest that it was subject to around 0.5-1.0 m of tidal variation along the southern boundary (e.g., Erickson and Slingerland, 1990).

To my imagination, this suggests vast areas of tidal channels, mudflats, and marshes dotted with countless millions of birds hunting, fishing, and probing for prey. But except for birds like Hesperornis (and kin) and Ichthyornis what these birds were like remains largely a mystery as only fragmentary remains assigned to around twenty or so genera are known.

A mixed flock of waders hunts among a school of small fish, Bryan Beach, Texas
A Mixed Flock of Waders Fishing, behind Bryan Beach, Texas. Here a white morph Reddish Egret participates in a “drive” of small fish across a shallow lagoon. Note the dark morph Reddish Egret in the upper left corner. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

The main reason I frequent the shallow lagoons behind Bryan Beach (other than reverie) is that this area is a reliable spot to see Reddish Egrets, both dark and white morphs. On this trip, we saw both color phases. I was especially excited to see Reddish Egrets hunting alone and in mixed flocks of waders and shorebirds. At one point, a large group of White Ibises, Snowy Egrets, Lesser Yellowlegs, and Dowitchers encountered a school of small fish and swept across the lagoon together in a communal fishing “drive.” Sometimes the Reddish Egrets broke off from the flock and fished alone—although sometimes a few Snowy Egrets, Lesser Yellowlegs, or Dowitchers shadowed them.

With a little imagination it’s easy to envision such scenes occurring along the tidal mudflats and lagoons of the Western Interior Seaway. Squinting at the above scene, it might be easy to believe that you are seeing the Cretaceous cousins of today’s birds. But sorting out the taxonomic nightmare of what you are seeing would have been a bit dicier in the Late Cretaceous than it is today. Feathers, it seems, were widely distributed among dinosaurs, so many of those little feathered bipeds hunting and fishing across those mudflats were not close modern bird relatives at all, but rather dinosaurs, or perhaps even more likely, members of the strictly Mesozoic avian groups that perished at the end of the Cretaceous Period.

Reddish Egret (White Morph), near Bryan Beach, Texas
A Reddish Egret (White Morph) Fishes Alone, behind Bryan Beach, Texas. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

Finally, sometimes lost in my imaginary Cretaceous, I have to remind myself that I can stray to the waters’ edge—no fear in our time of being confused with a small dinosaur . . . and a mosasaur bolting from the shallows and dragging me kicking and screaming into the surf.

Reference

Erickson, M.C. and Slingerland, R. 1990. Numerical simulations of tidal and wind-driven circulation in the Cretaceous Interior Seaway of North America. Geological Society of America Bulletin 102 (11): 1499-1516.

©2015 Christopher R. Cunningham. All rights reserved. No text or images may be duplicated or distributed without permission.

Focus on Bird Behavior

Admiration and familiarity are strangers.–George Sand

Sunning Yellow-crowned Night-Heron, Elm Lake, Brazos Bend State Paark, Texas
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.

Bathing Pied-billed Grebe, Elm Lake, BBSP
Motor Boat: Bathing Pied-billed Grebe, Elm Lake, BBSP. Canon EOS 7DII/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.

©2015 Christopher R. Cunningham. All rights reserved. No text or images may be duplicated or distributed without permission.

Observing Spoonbills and Ibises

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
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 Sstate Park, Texas
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.

Spoonbill Nest with Nestlings, Smith Oaks Rookery, High Island, Texas
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 Spoonbill, Myakka Rivefr State Park, Florida
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 with Predaceous Diving Beetle, Pilant Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas
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.

©2015 Christopher R. Cunningham. All rights reserved. No text or images may be duplicated or distributed without permission.

A Green Heron in Full Breeding Glory

Portrait: Green Heron in Full Breeding Plumage, Pilant Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas
Portrait: Green Heron in Full Breeding Plumage, Pilant Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas. Note the brilliant violet-blue lore. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

Last weekend we managed to get out to Brazos Bend State Park during a sunbreak. Along the southern margin of Pilant Lake, between Elm Lake and the bridge, we noticed a pair of Green Herons fishing. Both were adult birds, but were in different stages of development of breeding colors. One (shown above and immediately below) was in full breeding color. The other was just shy of full development.

Preening Green Heron in full breeding plumage, Pilant Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas.
Preening Green Heron in Full Breeding Plumage, Pilant Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas. When you’re this good-looking, it’s important to take care of yourself! Note the “glossy orange” feet and legs. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

These birds buzzed each other a few times and generally acted as though they were squabbling. This may have been an aspect of courtship behavior or a territorial dispute. Based on the benign nature of the interactions, it seemed more likely to be the former. The bird in full breeding had brilliant violet-blue lores without a trace of yellow, and the feet were a bright orange. The beak was, more or less, a glossy jet-black. This bird is likely involved in courtship.

Green Heron with gar fingerling, Pilant Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas
Green Heron (Transitioning into Full Breeding Plumage) with Gar Fingerling, Pilant Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.

The second bird (above) had blueish lores that still showed an upper outline of yellowish green. The feet and legs were still the predominately blotchy yellow-black of nonbreeding, but patches of orange had formed. The lower bill retained a stripe of yellowish green along the lower margin. I think that this bird had just started courtship behavior.

The image below shows an adult Green Heron in nonbreeding colors during late summer. Note the stripe of greenish yellow above the lore and along the lower margin of the mandible. This is how I typically see Green Herons, which is why it’s so exciting to see them in their flamboyant, transitory breeding colors.

Green Heron in Nonbreeding Plumage on American Lotus Leaf, Elm Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas
Green Heron in Nonbreeding Plumage on an American Lotus Leaf, Elm Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas. This bird was snatching small fish from near the surface of the water while remaining hidden from below on the leaf. Image taken in late August. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). High-speed synchronized fill-flash.

Essentially what photography is is life lit up.—Sam Abell

©2015 Christopher R. Cunningham. All rights reserved. No text or images may be duplicated or distributed without permission.

American Bittern: A Song in Still Frames

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.

American Bittern Calling: Image 1
Singing American Bittern 1, Pilant Lake, BBSP, Texas.
American Bittern Call: Image 2
Singing American Bittern 2, Pilant Lake, BBSP, Texas.
American Bittern Call: Image 3
Singing American Bittern 3, Pilant Lake, BBSP, Texas. Note the nictitating membrane.
American Bittern Call: Image 4
Singing American Bittern 4, Pilant Lake, BBSP, Texas.
American Bittern Call: Image 5
Singing American Bittern 5, Pilant Lake, BBSP, Texas.
American Bittern Call: Image 6
Singing American Bittern 6, Pilant Lake, BBSP, Texas.

©2015 Christopher R. Cunningham. All rights reserved. No text or images may be duplicated or distributed without permission.