Birding Daily, Almost

 

Osprey, Pandion haliaetus

 

They were loud, almost obnoxious neighbors.  When we slept with the windows open to catch the gentle summer breeze they were the last thing we heard each evening and the first raucous greeting each dawn.  But now they are gone, without even a neighborly adieu, and I admit to missing them already.

Osprey family

There are three Osprey platforms along our shore and each hosts a successful breeding pair every summer.  The parents, new fledglings, and yearlings certainly created an interesting summer on San Domingo Creek this year, learning to fly, fish, and chase away the bullying Fish Crows.  But now they’re all gone and the quiet is eerie.

Eastern Kingbird, Tyrannus tyrannus

Other quieter cast members have also left the stage, exit south.  I refer to the Eastern Kingbirds, whom the permanent resident Northern Mockingbirds allowed to breed beside the cove, and the related Barn and Tree Swallows who breed under the dock and in the Bluebird houses.  Any day now they will be replaced by large noisy flocks of migratory Canada Geese and a new cacophony will begin.  Alas, another season has passed.

Barn Swallow, Hirundo rustica

My birding has evolved, and not necessarily for the better.  It’s been a long time, since Norway in May, for me to purposely set out on a birding excursion.  You know the drill; an early AM start armed with binoculars, camera with telephoto lens, guide book or cell phone, bug spray, sun protection, etc.

Tree Swallow, Tachycineta bicolor

I may have become a victim of the eBird challenge for us to bird continuously, submitting daily lists of sightings as we go about our non-birding lives.  Their intentions at Cornell are laudable, trying to expand the world-wide data base of birds to assess population trends and birds at risk.  But I think I may have carried this all too far.

Northern Mockingbird, Mimus polyglottos

The eBird app makes it too easy (http://www.ebird.org).  We went out for a seafood dinner along the Tred Avon River with a large group and I secured a waterside seat so I could clandestinely count the cormorants and gulls between bites.  No one knew.  One of my favorite personal locations is a comfortable hammock strategically positioned in the back yard between a feeder and birdbath.  The chickadees, finches, and hummingbirds hardly notice me there unless I snore and drop the iPhone.  I even got a few ticks through a hospital window during a brief illness last January.

American Goldfinch, Carduelis tristis

eBird got serious about these daily tabulations last January when they announced the “Checklist-A-Day Challenge”.  Submit your daily sightings all year long, even if a session is as short as 3 minutes, and be eligible to win a set of Zeiss binoculars on December 31.  More importantly you contribute to a valuable growing database of birds.  I started the year on a roll, 133 straight days of sightings, but then life intervened.  Not to worry, you just need an average of 1 list per day and there are still 97 days left in 2019 to make up the deficit.

Lincoln Park, Chicago

We recently took two short non-birding trips that allowed me to squeeze in a few observations.  One was to a spectacular family wedding at Chicago, Lincoln Park.  The joy of seeing my nephew and his beautiful bride begin their lives together, and seeing the satisfaction and celebration of the supporting families and friends overshadowed even the birds.  But I did count some on the shore of Lake Michigan and during an architectural tour on the Chicago River, whose flow, by the way, was remarkably reversed by engineers in 1900.

Keuka Springs Winery

The other trip was to Upstate New York, my native stomping ground.  To the New York City crowd, anything north of the Tappan Zee Bridge is called “upstate”.  The rest of us know that the true upstate is Syracuse, Rochester, Ithaca, Watkins Glen, Skaneateles, and countless other small towns nestled among the rolling hills, wineries, and the Finger Lakes.  The residents here even sound different than the big city folks.  I don’t believe there is a more beautiful and comfortable place anywhere in the summer.  But forget the winters.

White-breasted Nuthatch, Sitta carolinensis

It was another chance for some soft core birding while we became reacquainted with family and friends.  My sister has maintained and restored the old summer cottage that my Dad and Mom bought on Keuka Lake in 1956, and my brother has recently relocated just down the road.   We had dinner with the same next door neighbors that I knew in the 1950’s, now with several generations of offspring all returning to their homestead each year, similar to those migrating Osprey.

Wood Duck, Aix sponsa

I’m the only birder in the family, so for one week the old feeder is dusted off and filled with sunflower seeds.  It only takes a few hours for the chickadees and finches, to find the cache.  I’m particularly pleased with the nuthatches climbing the trunks of the ash and pines near the back door.  We have Wood Ducks, American Black Ducks, and Common Mergansers on the lake, all new since my childhood days when we only saw Mallards.  There even was an Osprey fishing near the shore, apparently just as happy with the freshwater sunfish and bass as their more common salt water catch.

Common Merganser, Mergus merganser

The last stop in Upstate was Ithaca, the home of dear friends and also the famous Sapsucker Woods and the Cornell Lab of Ornithology.  I can “blame” them for my list-a-day craze, but Cornell and their brain child eBird have seriously revolutionized birding.

Sapsucker Woods Pond

Their data, even my sightings from the hammock, have documented the loss of 3 billion birds from the U.S. and Canada since the 1970’s, 30% of our total bird population.  “More than 90% of the losses are from 12 families including sparrows, finches, blackbirds, and warblers”.  But all is not doom and gloom.  The water fowl population has grown 56% and raptors are up 200% over the same period.  Those ducks and the thriving Osprey families can thank Cornell, dedicated ornithologists, and even lowly eBirders for this revival.

 

Birding Florida in August

Tricolor Heron, Egretta tricolor

 

In early August I spent a week in south Florida.  No, I’m not crazy.  I had some indoor painting to do there, and own a perfectly functioning air conditioner.  It makes one wonder what people did in the South before AC.  And more importantly, how do the birds handle this heat?  Instead of watching the paint dry I  ventured outside to do a little summertime birding and to solve this mystery.

White Ibis, Eudocimus albus

The August humidity in Florida is oppressive; just get used to being damp while doing anything outside, including birding.  We sweat in an attempt to cool our bodies through evaporation.  Remember your high school thermodynamics; water going from liquid to gaseous phases requires energy and draws heat away from your skin.  But birds don’t sweat; they do not have sweat glands.  Despite this they still like to stay wet in the hot weather to take advantage of evaporative cooling.

Fish Crow, Corvus ossifragus

Birds have also developed other behavioral and physiologic mechanisms to deal with extreme heat.  They have a much higher metabolic rate than humans and a higher baseline temperature, as high as 108F degrees for some birds.  Ninety degree days, therefore are not as critical for a bird as for us humans, however extreme temperatures can be a problem.  Their behavioral adjustments to the heat strike me as just common sense, like things your mother would tell you.  “Stay out of the hot mid-day sun, feed and play in the early morning or evening, bathe often, and drink a lot of water.”

Brown Pelicans, Pelecanus occidentalis

I understand that soaring birds soar even higher on hot days, seeking cooler air.  If all else fails, the birds can always consider an earlier fall migration or relocation to habitats at higher elevation.  Indeed the ranges of many birds are expanding northward as the climate warms.

Osprey, Pandion haliaetus

Avian physiologic adjustments to heat are interesting.  Birds can increase their respiratory rate and breathe with an open bill, just like a panting dog.  Think of the bird’s lungs as a heat exchanger, with heat passing from the hot blood to the relatively cooler air.  Some birds take this thermoregulation to a higher level, by including a rapid vibration of the moist throat to enhance evaporation.  This is called “gular fluttering” and can be seen with cormorants, night hawks, and doves.

Yellow-crowned Night Heron, Nyctanassa violacea

Feathers, such vital insulating structures for cooler weather, work against the bird in the hot summer.  Luckily birds also have some vascular featherless body parts, (legs, feet, bills, eye rings) that can also function as cooling heat exchangers.  The huge bills of the tropical Toucans are very vascular and a good example of this cooling technique.  When the temperature finally falls the blood flow to these parts decreases to maintain warmth.

Green Heron, Butorides virescens

Vultures, as you might expect, lead the way with the most disgusting cooling method.  Urohydrosis is the sophisticated term for these birds urinating on their feet and legs to foster evaporative cooling.  The drying white urate salts also better reflect the sun’s rays than the darker clean legs and feet.  I’m told that multi-colored birds perch with their lighter and more reflective plumage toward the sun in hot weather, but have not observed this pattern myself.

Black Vulture, Coragyps atratus

Some of these cooling methods were evident while birding the Pelican Bay berm along the mangroves and further inland at the Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary.  The birds were hiding from me and the heat, especially the passerines where only a few were active in the deep shade of the cypress forest.  There certainly was no shortage of water as the ditches and ponds were all full from the daily monsoons.  The Florida waders were out in force, but I only saw one shorebird; a Willet frolicking alone in the Gulf surf.

Yellow-crowned Night Heron, Nyctanassa violacea

Anhinga, a juvenile night heron, and a vulture were all seen holding their wings out, away from their bodies.  This is for drying and evaporative cooling, but also to keep the insulating wing feathers away from the body.

Corkscrew’s Lettuce Lake

Don’t forget the birder who must also adapt to the heat.  Sunscreen, hats, water bottles, etc. are obvious, but I wasn’t prepared for the severe Florida humidity.  The air temperature was similar to that of the Chesapeake region this time of year, but the humidity was brutal.

Great Blue Heron, Ardea herodias

Dripping sweat clouding glasses and lenses was a constant battle, but on the plus side, there were no throngs crowding the birding hotspots.  I made the 3 mile loop on the Corkscrew boardwalk and saw only two other birders.  There were many more guides than patrons.  The Pelican Bay berm and beach were almost empty with no joggers or bikers to dodge.  If you prefer to bird alone, Florida in August beckons.

Gulf of Mexico

August is our yearly lull on the birding calendar for more reasons than just the heat.  The excitement of breeding, nesting, and feeding hatchlings is subsiding.  Birds are lying low, molting, and building up reserves for a possible long fall migration.  For the full time residents of Florida, both avian and human, its just a time to relax, try to stay cool, and wait for the inevitable surge from the north, soon to begin.