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| "BIRDING NOTES" Journal Entries By Eric Salzman, Author Reports & Thoughts from East Quogue |
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| Common Yellowthroat click for larger image & more information |
| July 2, 2008 A Wet Walk Heavy dew this morning made for a wet walk. Several species were active and singing or calling that have been recently in a state of quietude, probably indicating that their young are passing through the nestling and fledgling stages. The Green Heron, which abandoned its nest near the house earlier in the spring, may have relocated deeper in the woods from where a bird called loudly several times. Common Yellowthroat and the Catbirds have started to sing again, the Downy Woodpecker is now calling again and I believe that I also heard calling Baltimore Oriole young. The Mute Swan in our pond has gobbled up just about all of the algae and the Willets are still yapping away and circling the marsh and pond. Yesterday's calling Acadian Flycatcher was apparently a one-day wonder. Perhaps, not finding any soul mates in this neck of the woods, it went to try its luck somewhere else. Eric Salzman |
| July 3, 2008 Small mysteries of the 3rd of July A few small mysteries for July 3rd: In the past few weeks, there have been some pellets deposited on our neighbor's dock jutting out into Weesuck Creek just north of the property. These are very shapely, dry packages, tapered at one end, an inch and a half (or so) in length and perhaps 1/3 of an inch in diameter. They appear to be filled with mostly plant matter -- including many seeds -- and an occasional small pebble. I do not see animal bones as one would expect from an owl pellet. These are unlikely to be poop as they are very dry. Who or what is depositing these items? A more widespread kind of detritus are the Ribbed Mussel shells that I find all over. Ribbed Mussels live in the organic mud banks at the edges of the marsh and I often find the empty shells, cracked open, on the Spartina patens grass in the marsh. Somewhat more surprisingly, I also find them on the ground, sometimes well into the woods and at some distance from the marsh. Years ago, my family used to make clambakes on our little sandy creek shore and we would always include Quahogs from the bay and then collect these mussels to cook as well. They are perhaps not as good as Blue Mussels but we ate them with gusto. Only later did I discover that they are usually described as "inedible" in the books! They certainly are not inedible to whoever is digging them out of the mud and carrying them into the marsh or up onto the high ground to eat them. Occasionally, I also find a crab shell -- usually small -- possibly left by the same seafood gourmet. Here's another conundrum. The Silver-spotted Skipper -- which carries not so much silver spots as a brilliant irregular white patch on its wings -- is supposed to feed on plants in the pea or legume family. Why then do I see it all the time out on the marsh edge among the Groundsel and Marsh Elder (Baccharis and Iva), neither of which is in the legume family? Now here's a mystery solved. On a number of recent morning, I have almost invariably been followed into the woods by silent Blue Jays that have sometimes come so close over my head that they were within arm's reach. Not a normal Blue Jay behavior by any means. This morning, an explanation suggested itself. Two adult Blue Jays accompanied by three nearly full-grown fledglings suggested that I was near a Blue Jay nest. By coming so close in such a conspicuous manner, the adult was no doubt attempting to lead me away from the nest area. Eric Salzman |
| July 7, 2008 Wake-up Call My morning alarm clock these days is one of the local Cardinals who has become intensely vocal and who starts singing right outside my bedroom window at the first glimmer of light (he -- or another bird -- even sometimes sings in the middle of the night). The morning concert consists of this bird, an almost equally vocal Carolina Wren and a Catbird or two. These birds are either finished with their earlier brood or lost their earlier brood or are just unmated and desperately putting on the last show before the curtain comes down. Young Barn Swallows are flying on the creek. I'm less certain about the Purple Martins; there are a lot of them flying about and they are very vocal but I'm not sure if the light-bellied birds are females, young or a mixture of both. I also found a small (and therefore young) Box Turtle, the second one I've seen this year (I'm pretty sure that they are different individuals). This strongly suggests that there is indeed a younger generation of Box Turtles coming along, good news indeed. Eric Salzman |
| July 10, 2008 Purple Martins Large numbers of Purple Martins flying and calling overhead -- many of them with light underparts -- suggest that the Town Dock colony has been successful. Martins are not the only birds with flying young. The list includes almost all the common local birds: Blue Jays, B-c Chickadees and Tufted Titmice, Carolina Wren, N. Cardinal, etc. The Jays set up a huge racket and ended up chasing a small raptor from one spot to another (it was probably a Sharp-shinned Hawk but I never got a good look at it). There was action in the marsh as well. A Least Sandpiper in the open area and two Saltmarsh Sharp-tailed Sparrows are undoubtedly the harbingers of things to come. One other harbinger: the first annual or dog-day cicadas sounded off briefly a couple of times during the day. That seems very early. Last year the first cicadas (that I noticed) started to sing a couple of weeks later. Eric Salzman |
| July 11, 2008 Chasing a Mystery Bird Early this morning I flushed a dark, plump, smallish bird in the marsh which whirred low across the top of the grass and dropped down in an inaccessible spot on the other side of the main channel through the wetland. Short of trying to waddle through knee-deep mud and water, the only way to chase this bird was to leave the marsh and the property, head out to Bay Avenue towards the Town Dock and cut across -- past the Purple Martin colony -- to that inaccessible portion of our creekfront which borders the part of the marsh where the bird landed. This took me c. 10 minutes and, of course, by the time I got there, there was no sign of the bird. To put it bluntly, the mystery bird was either a Seaside Sparrow or (dare I say it) a Black Ra. . . . Okay, Seaside Sparrow. The Purple Martin colony has certainly doubled in size and many of the birds perched on the houses (there is a martin house and a collection of gourds as well, with all available cubicles in active use) were certainly young of the year. The success of this colony is a real bright spot in our local bird life! Eric Salzman |
| July 13, 2008 Chasing a Bird Yesterday morning I was back out on the marsh early in the morning and once again I had a glimpse of a dark, short-tailed sparrow-sized bird whirring across the marsh. Once again it dropped down into the Spartina before I could get my glass on it but this time it was on the near side of the open-water area in the middle of the marsh. The tide was going out and I decided I had a chance of being able to work my way over to the spot in hopes of getting another, better look. By this time of the year, the marsh grasses -- essentially the two Spartinas, patens and alterniflora -- are very high but I thought I could follow what appeared to be deer trails to get me there without too much trouble. Alas, somewhat more than half way through the grass, I stepped right into a giant, mud-filled hole and went sprawling, my right leg in mud up to my kneecap. I was, to put it mildlly, a little discombobulated but even so no bird came up to have a look so my distress went for nought and my mystery bird remained a mystery. The most striking feature of the marsh these days is the proliferation of small, dark (blackish or charcoal-gray), clear-winged, tame dragonflies. Some of them have varying amounts of yellow on the tail (abdomen) and a few have amber patches on their wings. These are undoubtedly Seaside Dragonlets (with the equally wonderful scientific name of Erythrodiplax berenice). The dark ones are the males; the ones with color are females or immature males. Least Sandpiper still present along with an "Intermediate Yellowlegs" -- probably a Greater Yellowlegs with a relatively short straight bill. On the vegetable side of things, I found (in the shade just in from the marsh) several Germander or Wood Sage plants starting to bloom. The second week of July seems early for these plants but that's the way things go these days. As I mentioned in a previous post, I've aready heard the dog-day cicadas tuning up although the worst dog days are yet to come. Eric Salzman |
| July 20, 2008 Fifteen Peeps When the tide is low, particularly in the early morning, I try to make my way out to the open area in the middle of the marsh. This is actually a temporary widening-out of a stream flow that originates at the head of the marsh (and, according to old maps, used to flow from what is now Old Country Road, north of Montauk Highway!). This is the overground flow of a large amount of water, most of which travels underground into Weesuck Creek from all sides. It cuts through right through the middle of our marsh; in fact, it created the marsh in the first place. It heads west through the Spartina but before it can get out, it is blocked by a sand bar and forced to turn north. Our pond was originally formed in the nineteenth or early twentieth-century by damning this flow to make a fish pond in which carp was raised! The water flows into the pond at a narrow neck and exits to the north again in the form of a narrow stream. This whole complex amounts to a side creek that flows into the main body of Weesuck Creek in exactly the opposite direction from the main flow of Weesuck! Of course, the outward movement of fresh water through this system is now more than matched by the inflow of the salty tides that come in from the ocean through Shinnecock Inlet, fill up the bay and eventually also Weesuck Creek and then our pond and marsh as well. The marsh produces lots of organic matter but the movement of water in and out also distributes and leaves behind more of same. At low tide the sides of the pond and the interior of the marsh (especially the open area in the middle) show mud and sand bottoms and offer feeding grounds that attract many species. It is not easy to peer into the marsh or to poke one's way through even at low tide. But, with a little care, it is possible to sneak up on the pond edges as well as the mid-marsh open area to search for birds. Low tide in low light is the best. This morning was overcast and foggy. There was a single Least Sandpiper in that central open area when suddenly a silent flock of c. 15 peeps came whirling in and ducked down low as if to land. But, even with one or two Least Sandpipers on the mud, they decided against landing (perhaps my presence nearby spooked them) and continued on their way up and over the marsh and the trees beyond. There were, I suspect, also Least Sandpipers but these peeps came in without a peep so I couldn't be sure. This was a very quiet, fog-bound morning but in the afternoon, yesterday and today, as the tide rose and fell and some sun poked through, the regular gang of Great Egrets appeared with a Snowy Egret and a Great Blue Heron. Green Heron was also active and calling; its early attempt at nesting near the house was frustrated by crows but I suspect it transferred its nesting attempt to another spot in the area. A noisy Greater Yellowlegs and more than one Spotted Sandpiper continue to frequent the area. I hear the rattle of a Belted Kingfisher now and then but it is no longer as regular as it used to be and I suspect it no longer nests in the sand mines north of us. And the noisy, ever-present Willets are suddenly gone. Have they abandoned us? Or is it just that their season is already past? Eric Salzman |
| July 22, 2008 Black Birds A warm, dank fog over everything was dispersed by a front coming through in the late morning, a front that promised heavy thunderstorms that never materialized (not around here at any rate). Temperatures dropped into the seventies -- almost a cold wave! -- followed by sunshine followed by high clouds and more threatening skies. This was a big day for some very social black birds. Troupes of Common Grackles -- not all of them black (the young are quite brown) -- have moved in and are feeding on the ground in the woods and all around the house. And the young Common Crows, carrying on with their nasal non-stop honks, are sometimes perched, sometimes in flight as they play aerial games of catch-as-catch-can. Purple Martins don't quite qualify as black birds (the adult males appear to be uniformly dark but the females and young have extensive white undernearth) but they are certainly social. Watching a small troupe of them dip in and out of the fog over the marsh is like being present at a remarkable aerial ballet. There is now almost invariably a yellowlegs on the pond edge when the tide is low. There appear to be two different birds, both with medium-length bills, very slightly upturned, and a plumage that is distinguished by a distinct white eye ring, black-and-white speckling on the back and a breast shield that also has a lot of black in it with some barring on the sides. The slight upturn of the bill and the loud ringing cries identify both birds as Greaters. Eric Salzman |
| July 25, 2008 Manu Biosphere Reserve I'm off for three weeks in the Manu Biosphere Reserve in southeastern Peru. This is a untouched area that runs down the eastern slope of the Andes into the Amazon basin in the Madre de Dios area (the Madre de Dios River is one of the principal tributaries of the Amazon and is the main artery of transportation in the area so, after a few days on a road in the higher mountains, we will be travelling mostly by boat). The total area of the park covers about 15,000 square kilometers of national park plus about another 4,000 included in "cultural" zones which are inhabited by native peoples. The upper parts are paramo and puna (open areas above tree line), lower down are many zones of cloud forest and the lower levels are Amazonian rain forest. Each level has its own flora and fauna. There are about 1000 species of birds in Manu -- more than in all of North American combined -- plus very large numbers of mammals (notably primates), reptiles, insects (many gorgeous butterflies) and plants (everything from orchids to strangler figs). Communications with the outside world from Manu are, at best, spotty so I won't be filing any reports on the trip until I get back in the third week of August. By then migration will be underway so things ought to be exciting here too! See you then! Eric Salzman |