“To Kill a Mockingbird”

April 11, 2024brighamstephen 8 Comments

Northern Mockingbird, *Mimus polyglottos*

I have tickets to see this famous play tomorrow. As a birder and long time admirer of this melodious bird I have very mixed feelings about the title, but will watch the show with an open mind. I suspect the title is a metaphor for the loss of innocence, but why pick on this bird? Our language is replete with bird idioms, some of which are easy to understand while others leave one dumbstruck.

Florida Scrub Jay, *Aphelocoma coerulescens*

Take for instance, “naked as a jay bird”. It is true that jays are naked, but aren’t all birds? You could say naked as a sparrow or pelican, but I suspect you would just receive blank stares. The nude jay bird expression has somehow become ingrained in our lingo and is understood by all.

Some of these idioms are derogatory toward birds and were not likely initiated by a true birder. Take for example “ugly duckling” or “bird brain”. In my experience a duckling can appear somewhat bland but I have yet to see one I considered to be ugly. Jennifer Ackerman, in her recent great book, “The Genius of Birds” should once and for all put the use of “bird brain” to rest, perhaps even turning it into a complimentary expression. Incidentally, she put a picture of a naked Scrub Jay on her cover.

“A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush”. Have you ever held a bird? I have twice, one time at a banding station where we netted and banded a tiny hummingbird. Feeling its racing heart, even faster than my atrial fibrillation, was a thrill. The other time was when I rescued a Carolina Wren from my garage after it knocked itself senseless against the window once too often. I would say that a bird in the hand is worth at least six or eight birds in the bush.

Carolina Wren, *Thryothorus ludovicianus*

“Birds of a feather flock together”. Well, yes and no. One of a birders’ cherished moments is seeing a mixed, or should I say diverse, feeding flock of small passerines pass through the woods. You don’t know where to aim your binoculars or camera first, and by the time you figure that out they have moved on. But the brief feeding frenzy of warblers, tits, and wrens makes your day. I suspect that when the feeding is over they return to own kind.

Back in the 1950s, at least in my elementary school, being “goosed” or “goosing” another unsuspecting kid was great sport. I think this has fallen out of favor. Likely the expression stems from the domestic geese that occasionally peck at you in the barnyard. I can’t imagine a Canada Goose getting close enough to pull that off.

“A little bird told me”. I think my mother used that expression to stop the incessant why’s from an inquisitive young boy, or perhaps to protect the identity of the bearer of some juicy gossip. Blaming it on a bird might have been convenient, but was a real put down for the innocent bird.

So you get the idea, and I’m sure you can think of countless more. It makes for a good topic for a blog post when you don’t have something more significant to pass on. I have a couple more weeks down here in Florida before joining the other “snow birds” in the northward migration. Another bird idiom–you just can’t avoid them.

The Best Birding Sites in SW Florida

February 8, 2024brighamstephen 15 Comments

After the usual cordial greetings on the trail, and after you eye the binoculars, camera, and lens of the encountered birder, several queries quickly work their way into the conversation. They are often equipment oriented, but frequently are also about ones favorite sites to see and photograph birds. Since there are many snowbirds and first-time visitors to Florida I thought I would list for them my favorite sites which we have visited many times over the last 20 years.

In an earlier post I have trumpeted the advantages of having a personal, local patch right outside your backdoor, and one that becomes familiar over years of frequent observation. This post, however, is about public sites in Southwest Florida.

I’m putting them in the order of my preference, but none are bad sites. In fact any day of birding at any location is enjoyable in my book. One’s choice of birding destination for the day often depends on target birds or rarities reported on eBird. The weather may factor in since some locations involve hiking, while others allow birding by auto. Here they are with a short note about each.

Dinner Island Ranch
Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary
Eagle Lake Community Park
Bird Rookery Swamp
Turner River Road
Ding Darling NWR on Sanibel Island
Clam Pass
Ten Thousand Islands Marsh Trail
Harnes Marsh
Tigertail Beach on Marco Island

I got a little push back from one of my birding companions about the first choice, since it is a 60 mile drive from Naples, way out in the old Florida hinterlands. It is so different from the other more frequented sites, but that is exactly why I love going there. This must be what our state looked like 100 years ago. The huge ranch has unfettered public access and numerous gravel roads traversing miles of flat grasslands, peppered with ponds and pine hummocks. There are grazing cattle with riding egrets, old corrals, and rarely another birder in sight. It’s my best chance to tick meadowlarks, kestrels, caracara, or an occasional Snail Kite. Pack a lunch and water. My life list there measures 62 species.

Corkscrew is famous, and for good reason. Instead of the big sky and prairie of Dinner Island you’ll find a boardwalk through the cypress swamp, again a vestige of prior times. But this is a more civilized site with bookstore and gift shop, bathroom facilities, etc. You’ll share the boardwalk with many, but that is okay and a reflection of its beauty. Our recent trip was highlighted with good looks at 5 warblers, both buntings, 2 vireos and of course, several gigantic alligators.

Eagle Lake is just a short hop down Route 41, southeast of Naples. When you pull in you will wonder why such a site made my list, but be patient. Just past the parking lot, tennis courts, ball fields, and public restrooms you’ll find asphalt trails around several large collection ponds. The birds seem to love this suburban setting. Amongst the bikers and joggers we’ve seen several vagrants and rarities there. Whenever I have a new guest to Florida who wants to see birds, I take them to Eagle Lake. My life list there stands at 87 species, the greatest of all these sites.

Before you come to Corkscrew on Immokalee Road you’ll see an unassuming turnoff on the left called Shady Hollow Blvd. At the end of this road is the parking lot to the Bird Rookery Swamp, but slow down. There’s a lot to see on the approach road as it becomes a gravel drive and leaves the new houses behind. We often get great, close-up views or photos of 15+ species in the roadside ditch before we even get out of the car. This is a free site, less visited than the nearby Corkscrew, but similar in flora and fauna. You will first traverse a gravel path, then a boardwalk, and lastly a dirt trail with swamp on either side. A gator often lies across the trail–remember, they can move quickly if hungry. It’s a great spot for a Purple Gallinule and all the Florida waders.

Turner River Road (route 839) as the name suggests, is not a simple site, but instead a long road heading north through the unpopulated Big Cypress National Preserve. You’ll find it about 25 miles east of Naples on route 41. If you like to bird-by-auto and cover some miles this one’s for you. It makes sense on a day of iffy weather or when your hips are acting up. You can stop and get out for short walks and better photos along the way. There will be no traffic.

Ding Darling on Sanibel Island is a nationally known hotspot. We were just there this week, our first trip since the devastating hurricane. Repairs and rebuilding are underway, but the sanctuary is open and its waders and shorebirds still abound. Bring a scope. It’s my best site for the prancing Reddish Egret and where I finally found a Mangrove Cuckoo.

Beach birding a Clam Pass is a treat. The pass is the inlet and outlet for the tidal mangrove swamp of North Naples. The fish must love the mixing of fresh and salt water and they, in turn attract the beach birds. I’ll often pull a chair among the lounging Black Skimmers and photograph the diving pelicans and terns, hoping for a shot just when the hit the water. Access from the south side of the pass is private, but the north side is a public, with just as good of view. You get to it from the end of Seagate Drive.

If you want to admire the endless vista of unspoiled Florida swamp, check out the tower at Ten Thousand Islands Park, again off route 41 east of Naples. The birds are generally at a distance, but you’re there for the sheer beauty of this unique habitat. Marjory Stoneman Douglas referred to it as the “River of Grass” in her classic book from 1947.

Southwest Florida is all about water and water management. Canals, holding ponds, roadside ditches, and dikes are everywhere trying to control nature and make this area inhabitable. The Harnes Marsh, just east of Fort Myers is such a site, and a very bird friendly location. It’s great for a close up shot of Sandhill Cranes, Swamphens, and perhaps a flyover of a Snail Kite, Limpkin, or Northern Harrier if you’re lucky.

Lastly there is Tigertail Beach on Marco Island. As you drive through Marco look out for the stakes marking the location of the Burrowing Owls nesting on the vacant lots. It’s a great chance for a close up shot of the small photogenic birds. At the beach you will note several habitats. Trees around the parking lot host many passerines. On the first beach at the tidal estuary you’ll often see various peeps and waders. If you’re brave, roll up your pants and carry your expensive camera across the shallow tidal pool to the dunes where you’ll find the real ocean beach and its gulls, terns, and more shorebirds.

This post could go on forever since we are blessed with a birdy region, but I’ll spare you. Happy birding for now and let me know if I’ve omitted your favorite site.

The Re-Tern of the Blogger

November 9, 2023November 9, 2023brighamstephen 16 Comments

Sandwich Tern, *Thalasseus sandvicensis*

What was this bird thinking, leaving its familiar year-round home east of the Andes in South America, and flying all the way across the Gulf of Mexico to Southwest Florida? Was its internal compass whacky, or perhaps it just was tired of the same-old, same-old of Brazil? Just outside Naples, Florida it has become a celebrity bird, attracting hard-core birders from far and wide hoping for a look and lucky photo.

The Large-billed Tern, Phaetusa simplex, is the only member of its genus and clearly an odd-looking tern. A yellow, Jimmy Durante bill and the distinct black primaries and white secondaries, along with the gray back are quite distinctive.

Greater Yellowlegs, *Tringa melanoleuca*

This rarity in Florida was not an easy “get” for Andy and me, despite it being reported in eBird at the same general location nearly everyday since June. Andy, in Massachusetts and I in Maryland were locked into our summer routines, and not quite fervent-enough chasers and listers to hop on a plane and enter the Florida heat and humidity for one life bird. Perhaps two would have been enough, though.

But as soon as we arrived this fall it was on to Eagle Lake Community Park and Lely Resort just south of Naples on the Tamiami Trail. This is not a Florida wilderness with its water park, tennis courts, soccer and baseball fields, and gaudy giant horses guarding the entrance to the resort, but apparently the birds love it. The runoff drainage lakes and surrounding mixed habitat of slash pines and shrubs attracts a great collection of song and water birds, and some hunting raptors. The tern had stumbled onto the location, liked what it saw, and settled in for the long haul, cavorting with the Royal Terns and an occasional Black Skimmer.

Our first visit to the site was a dud. I saw a tern that seemed a little darker than the other Royals and maybe had a yellowish bill, but Andy was a skeptic. It was wishful thinking of a rarity chaser on my part. A passing birder who had seen the bird earlier weighed in with Andy and we went home empty handed. I did see a Painted Bunting and a juvenile Bald Eagle along with the usual water birds. There is never a bad day birding. Alas, eBird reported the target tern at our location just 30 minutes after we left.

The Large-billed Tern generally likes freshwater lakes and their sandy beaches, so our bird had read the books. In non-breeding season they do flock up and head to the ocean beaches and mangroves of Brazil. This species was first described in the western literature by Englishman John Latham in 1785 while his country was busy losing its North American colonies to the American Revolution.

Our second attempt the next day was the charm. Andy thought a visit at exactly the time it was seen on the prior day might bear fruit. This time I was the skeptic; birds can’t tell time. The first lake just yielded the fishing Royals again, but we did meet a birder who had seen it down by the horses earlier in the day. You can always tell a “real” birder by their brand of binoculars and camera, the size of their lens, and their dress. Birders are not slaves to fashion…she looked like the real thing.

I came up with a divide and conquer strategy which bore fruit. I would stay in the shade by the first lake while Andy hiked down to the horses to check out the other two lakes. We would stay in touch by cell phone. It wasn’t long before I saw a tern with dark wings flying toward Andy over the horses and palms. He answered his phone just as he spotted the bird landing on a sandy beach next to several Blue-winged Teals. Our pictures were from 100 yards and not perfect. We never did get the coveted flight shot, but you cannot expect everything.

I realize that this is my first blog posting in over a year. Life and other pursuits have intervened, but I still have that birding bug. In the last year I’ve written a birding book, Winging It, The Musings of a Birder, and have become engrossed with a new hobby of astrophotography. I’m still looking up through a glass and taking pictures, but its after dark and the targets are out of this world. I’m not sure what the future of this blog is, but am happy that readers are still visiting it and enjoying the old posts.

Sand Castles & Seagulls on Sanibel

January 13, 2022March 9, 2024brighamstephen 8 Comments

It’s said that the avian families of Larids, along with the Corvids, are the most intelligent of the birds. I have no reason to doubt this, especially after seeing the gull standing watch over the sand castle on the beach at Sanibel Island, Florida. I may not be able to convince you that the bird built the castle, but one cannot entirely rule that out. During the same birding excursion I saw this very same bird dropping shells from great heights onto hard surfaces, making use of Newtonian Laws to obtain its meal. They’re smarter than you think.

Boat-tailed Grackle, *Quiscalus mexicanus*

I tried to convince my birding companions into a Big Day birding in Southwest Florida, but the enthusiasm was muted, and instead we headed to Sanibel Island for a more sedate session. That’s not to say it was not enjoyable or productive. Sanibel, and its companion Captiva, are barrier islands off the west coast of Florida, formed 6,000 years ago by the currents of the Gulf of Mexico. The Calusa were the first human inhabitants, but the birds predated even them on this semi-tropical gem. A causeway was built from the mainland in 1963 and extensive human development followed. Luckily, for us and the birds, more than half of these islands are protected wildlife sanctuaries.

Yellow-crowned Night Heron, *Nyctanassa violacea*

The birding started while driving the long, elevated causeway. Brown Pelicans, Osprey, and gulls flew along a eye level tempting us with flight shots out of the moving car. Forget it; it never works. Our first stop was at the Sanibel Lighthouse and beach at the far southern tip of the island. During the spring migration of 2020 we witnessed an impressive fallout of warblers in the scrub brush surrounding the lighthouse. Apparently the north-bound migrants, exhausted from their long flight over the Gulf, replenish themselves at this welcome sojourn. It was quite a show then, but this January the shrubs were empty.

Sanibel Lighthouse, *Sanibella illuminata*

The beach however was crowded with both birds and people. The latter were busy fishing, searching for shells, sunbathing, or just strolling. We three birders, ladden with cameras and binoculars were in a definite minority. Gulls, including the Lesser Black-backed, were the most common birds seen. There was a resident Reddish Egret dancing in the surf, and a nesting Osprey as well. An informed birder clued us into a recent sighting of a Snowy Plover a half mile up the beach, but we never found it.

Lesser Black-backed Gull, *Larus fuscus*

The Reddish Egret deserves a special mention. Other egrets are quiet waders and patient fishers. The Reddish, however, dances and flails in the shallow water as if it is half starving. Its impatience reminds me of fishing with my grandson who is constantly moving the pole and line, checking the bait, and generally acting like a normal pre-adolescent. Some say the antics of the bird are meant to create shadows and confusion among the fish below. It must work. If you’re on the lookout for this bird, beware that “reddish” is the correct description. It is more a dirty pink / rust / purple mix, than genuine red, and has a rare all-white morph thrown in just to keep us birders on our toes.

Then it was off to the famous Ding Darling NWR, the place where we finally found the elusive Mangrove Cuckoo last year. This is one of the places east of the Mississippi that all birders have heard of, and most have visited more than once. I place it on a short list, along with Magee Marsh in Ohio, and Cape May, New Jersey as our eastern birding Meccas. The refuge is on the inland side of the island with a long one-way road cutting through the mangroves with tidal pools on each side. Mel did the driving while Andy and I called out the stops at each wide vista. If we were doing a “big day” you could drive through without stopping and still tick off most of the birds, but we decided to take our time and enjoy the scenery, birds, and fellow birders, many of whom had birding stories to share.

We did not see the Mangrove Cuckoo this year, but did get some good shots of the more common waders. There were also a few shorebirds sighted at some distance. A flock of Dowitchers flew in, and as is inevitable, a debate ensued whether they were the short or long-billed species. This can quickly take you into the birding weeds, except for Andy who hedged by declaring that there were some of each.

Ding Darling is also noted for its wintertime flocks of the American White Pelican. Apparently the birds breed inland throughout the continent but spend their winters along the coast. It is appreciably larger than its more common cousin, the Brown Pelican, and is among the heaviest of all the flying birds. Smartly, it has given up the dangerous diving antics of the Brown for a much less showy and risky bottoms-up feeding behavior, similar to the dabbling ducks.

American White Pelican, *Pelecanus erythrorhynchos*

I”m still pulling for a Big Day down here in Florida, trying to surpass our 80 species count of several years ago. But with gasoline prices rising, paling energy, and the fun of just birding slowly, it will understandably be a hard sell. The alternative is not bad.

Good-bye to the Strange Birds of Florida

May 1, 2021brighamstephen 13 Comments

They’re no longer strange to me, but to the non-Floridian this area has more than its share of unusual endemic birds. I remember my first days here, seventeen seasons ago, when I kept Kaufman’s Field guide to Birds of North America handy as I trudged through the swamps and upland savannas. Now these birds are like old friends that I’m leaving behind once again as we embark on our own spring migration to the north.

Strangeness is really a measure of familiarity, but even while I run across the Anhinga everyday in Florida, it remains a strange creature to me. The long gawky neck, bright red eye in the male and blue eye-ring of the female, and its underwater fishing, characterize this bird. You find it with its wings spread wide, drying in the hot sun–it doesn’t have the oil glands common in other water birds. And why do they soar at great altitude with the vultures when their food is underwater and invisible? Both it’s appearance and behavior are strange.

American Alligator, *Alligator mississippiensis*

That confounded calling Limpkin persists on the pond, just outside our bedroom window. Other non-birders in the condo have complained to the authorities, as if they could intervene. It is a nerve-racking chorus every night, but one I’ll soon miss hearing back in Chesapeake Bay country. The call is less frequent and energetic these nights; I think he’s giving up on attracting a mate this year.

The Florida Scrub Jay is an increasingly rare bird that is too familiar with us humans. It’s strangeness is shown by its unbridled curiosity about us, even lighting on the heads of birders as they seek out the jay to add another tick to their life lists.

Another strange one is the Roseate Spoonbill. Just start with the pink plumage. Why pink? It seems unnatural in the brown and green mud of the swamp, more suited to your baby girl’s nursery. It surely offers no camouflage for the lurking alligator. It took me several seasons down here before I realized the risk from dozing alligators, both to birds, pets, and humans. Keep a wary eye on them. And regarding those spoonbills, don’t overlook that spatula bill, an evolutionary experiment that hasn’t progressed much further.

Why would anyone choose a stork to deliver a baby, as legend teaches? At least here in south Florida our Wood Stork is a leading candidate for ugly and strangeness. Despite that, we are grateful for the bird’s resurgent population, now an easy sighting almost any day.

I’ll not forget my first sighting of a Crested Caracara. I had pulled over on the shoulder of Oil Well Road, right where an eBird report had recorded a recent bird, and sure enough, one flew over this excited birder, as if on cue. I was too unnerved to get off a shot. Now, years later, I’m completely familiar with this bird. Don’t let its debonair stature fool you. He’s a scavenger and more than holds his own with the vultures dividing the fresh roadkill.

Short-tailed Hawk (white morph), *Buteo brachyurus*

The Short-tailed Hawk taught me a valuable birding lesson that is probably obvious to most of my readers. A birder needs to keep looking up. You won’t find this raptor perched along the roadside as you commonly see our abundant Red-shouldered Hawk. Instead this bird is a soarer, often very high in the clouds. You’ll need to learn the appearances of the underside of the wings in the two variants–the dark and white morphs. It still is an unusual sighting for me, but as long as my stiff neck allows, I’ll keep looking up.

When I first came to Florida I noted a slew of female Mallards, but never saw a male. Was this the result of some pathologic scourge affecting the green-headed males? But I couldn’t explain the smaller ducklings, recently hatched–someone was mating with the females. Of course, you astute readers know the answer that I finally learned. There are no Mallards in south Florida. These are Mottled Ducks, where the male and females are a very similar mottled brown, only differentiated by the lighter yellow bill of the male. You won’t find this duck up north.

It’s a risky and strange experiment of nature for a bird to subsist solely on apple snails, but that pathway has evolved for the Snail Kite, an uncommon endemic of inland Florida. That may be why we’re having a harder time finding this bird each winter. This year we did get a good look at one flying over at Harnes Marsh, near Fort Myers. It’s always a good birding day to make that sighting.

Groove-billed Ani, *Crotophaga sulcirostris*

We’ve done a lot of rarity chasing in Florida this year; Glaucous Gull, Ash-throated Flycatcher, Groove-billed Ani, White-faced Ibis. Just yesterday I got a polite note from the eBird referee informing me that my White faced Ibis was actually a hybrid of that bird and our common Glossy Ibis. It cost me a life bird, but teaches me again that there are very smart birders out there paying attention to the details. The rest of these are birds that have become confused or blown off their normal flight patterns. But one of the rarities of the season, the Mangrove Cuckoo, is a Florida endemic that has eluded me for all these seventeen years. I finally saw one and photographed it on Sanibel Island this winter–a gratifying day. Only other birders know that particular satisfaction; its a nemesis bird no longer.

As I say good-bye to Florida and my birding colleagues here, I’ll leave them this: never, never, never give up on you quest to see your nemesis bird; for Andy that’s the Least Bittern. Your family and I understand your obsession, even when you go looking for the bird several times a day and don’t understand why everyone else is seeing it except for you. Someday you’ll likely succeed, but even if you don’t, just relish the hunt as you stand among the reeds and alligators of our beautiful and strange south Florida.

The day after I drafted this post and the day before I left Florida for the year, Andy, with an assist from Mel, found his nemesis Least Bittern. His tenacious search and Mel’s encouragement are marks of birders extraordinaire. I’m already looking forward to another winter of birding with these guys in south Florida or wherever strange birds are to be found.

The Crimes and Violence of Birds

March 6, 2021March 7, 2021brighamstephen 8 Comments

It’s a fairy tale or fake news to believe all is sweet and peaceful in the world of birds. We are enchanted by their melodious tweets and beautiful plumage, and are often found among them in seemingly peaceful natural settings, but don’t be fooled. Their world is one without constables or arbiters of justice. There are no rules, other than “might makes right”, “survival of the fittest”, and “it’s okay if you can get away with it”.

Their crimes range from petty theft to rape and murder. We birders are onlookers into this world which is similar to our old Wild West, and are grateful for our, albeit fragile, institutions of justice. As we bird we are witnesses to many of these crimes and often wonder what it would be like living in their world. Occasionally I’m even tempted to intervene on behalf of a victimized bird, but usually hold back and let nature take its course and toll.

Many of their crimes are mere misdemeanors. This would include the holes the Red-bellied Woodpecker is making in my sister-in-law’s cedar siding. The crows, jays, and gulls are perfecters of the art of petty theft. The former two are attracted to shiny objects, while the latter steals food, literally from the mouths of their careless victims. This usually results in a chase, sometimes resulting in a maimed fish dropped back into the ocean with no party getting any satisfaction.

Red-bellied Woodpecker, *Melanerpes carolinus*

A somewhat more onerous and significant crime is the practice of brood parasitism as I’ve discussed in prior posts. This disgusts our human sense of fairness and personal responsibility, but evolution has apparently blessed it as a successful tactic among many bird species. The initial crime is the stealthy planting of the itinerant egg in the nest of the unsuspecting parent-to-be, but the atrocity is magnified when the robust hatchling pushes the other weaker step-sibling out of the nest.

Many avian disputes are over territory and nesting rights, somewhat similar to those issues which crowd our human court dockets. The Red-winged Blackbird claims his territory with a beautiful song, but don’t let that fool you. He’ll attack any other bird, even a larger foe, that dares interlope into his nesting sphere of influence.

My friends Andy and Sam were accidental witnesses to a spectacular avian air battle between an adult Bald Eagle and Osprey. Andy was even dexterous enough to grab a camera and snap off a shot or two to document the event. Unfortunately, in cases such as that one shoots the pictures first, and checks camera settings later. It seemed like the smaller Osprey got the better of that fight. It was probably a territorial spat with the eagle getting too close to the Osprey’s nest. As you know, Bald Eagles are opportunistic scavengers, often feasting on the killings of others.

Hawks and owls, on the other hand, are merciless killers, always on the prowl to feed themselves and their offspring. Often their victims are other birds, but small mammals are also unsafe around a hungry bird-of-prey. In my yard Accipiters have become good at patrolling the bird feeders, flying in fast and low to take an innocent, unsuspecting passerine. We can take some comfort in that such killings are a necessity of life for the raptor.

In my last post I reported the rape of a Muscovy Duck. I will hazard a completely uninformed guess and venture that most sex among birds is consensual. I may be completely wrong about this, but do point out that many birds do mate for life. That lasting bond would be hard to imagine if it began with a rape, but admittedly I’m anthropomorphizing. Those ducks, however, did seem to cross a line, with no avian justice in sight.

I was recently chasing a rarity Iceland Gull on Fort Myers beach, unsuccessfully, when I snuck up on a Reddish Egret and was rewarded with my closest shots ever of the great bird. Suddenly a second egret swooped in and I witnessed a prolonged battle; or was it courtship and copulation? I find it hard to differentiate these with the birds.

So with all the violence, what is the mortality rate among birds? In this year of the pandemic our human death rates are plastered on the headlines daily. A few things are clear in the avian world. Larger birds live longer than smaller birds, but why is this so? Perhaps it’s because the larger birds are near the top of the food chain and less often preyed upon. Banding data has reported some longevity record life spans: Red-tailed Hawks and Brown Pelicans, 28 years; American Robin, 14 years; Eastern Bluebird, 10 years; and Ruby-throated Hummingbird, 9 years. Most birds, however have much shorter lives.

It’s estimated that 80-90% of birds do not live to maturity. This is a striking number, but when one remembers the numerous eggs laid and multiple broods per year created by a mating pair, it makes perfect sense. If they all survived we would be inundated with birds, just like an Alfred Hitchcock film. It’s also said that the mortality rate of birds is six times higher during spring and fall migrations. Travel is risky, as we all know.

It’s difficult to determine how many birds die at the hands or feet of other birds, or from avian diseases. Data regarding bird deaths caused by us humans is more readily available. Collisions with buildings and glass claim an astounding 600 million birds a year; collisions with vehicles, 200 million, and electric wires, 25 million. Six million birds succumb to electrocution each year and one such case was chronicled in my post of 17 November 2019. Our pesticides claim another 72 million per year, and who knows how many die from their loss of habitat. But all these numbers pale next to the 2.4 billion birds killed yearly by domestic and feral cats. That shocking number is hard to believe.

How can I conclude such a morbid post of avian crime and death? Perhaps by showing you two Great Blue Herons in love, or by simply stating that these are observations of life on our planet as it is, and not as we wish it to be. It’s merely a description of both the beautiful and fair, right along with the ugly and unjust.

Who Saw That Bird First?

February 23, 2021brighamstephen 2 Comments

If a birding year has a theme, this one has been chasing rarities in Florida. On the surface it sounds like adventure birding, combing through alligator-infested swamps and among trees dripping with Spanish moss, all to make a discovery for “science”. Not really. With but one notable exception, these are rare birds which have been discovered here, outside their normal ranges, by others; meticulous birders tuned to the minutiae of this pursuit much more than I will ever be.

Just this week eBird reported a Cinnamon Teal just east of Fort Myers. I had previously ticked this bird in southern Arizona in its expected range, but Andy had never laid eyes on it. After getting temporarily lost in the rural steppe of Old Florida, we came upon the reported site, easily identified by two other cars on the shoulder and birders sporting the telltale scopes aiming at a roadside pond. We were kept at bay by a wire fence and several large cows. The shallow pond or watering hole was 75 yards away and a dozen dozing ducks were backlit and poorly seen. If it wasn’t for the kind birder who invited us to peer through his scope we would have never seen the teal.

This begs the question, who saw that bird first, anyhow? Someone must have pulled over along the remote road, and carefully studied the plumage of all those distant ducks. Despite the poor viewing conditions, they recognized the plumage of the vagrant bird, and properly called it a Cinnamon Teal. Now that’s a real birder. The rest of us who flock to the site of his or her discovery are just interlopers. That first intrepid birder also had to convince the skeptics at eBird of the sighting, whereas all the rest of us had to do was report a “continuing bird”.

There are many examples of my interloping tendencies. Take that recent Mangrove Cuckoo at Ding Darling, the Groove-billed Ani and Ash-throated Flycatcher at Festival Park, and the Hammond’s Flycatcher at Corkscrew and the Vermilion Flycatcher last season in the Great Cypress Swamp. Some careful birder had the thrill of the initial discovery and was willing to pass it along to the rest of us via eBird.

Back up north, a few years ago, I chased a Glaucous Gull reported way down in southern Dorchester County on the Eastern Shore of Maryland; talk about rural and off the beaten track. I amazed myself by finally seeing this white gull among many others, just as I was preparing to pack up and head home, disappointed. There it was, flying in like an apparition, allowing the perfect shot. Who saw it first among the teeming flock of similar gulls swarming around the waterman, fighting for his discarded bait?

I crossed over into Delaware and to the shore of its large bay chasing a reported Sabine’s Gull. It also seemed like a hopeless task, scoping all the birds from the deck of the Dupont Nature Center. There were thousands of shorebirds, gulls, and terns on the breakwater and opposite shore of the inlet over a hundred yards away. They periodically rose and landed in a confusing and frenzied flock. Who saw that slightly different bird with a black hood and yellow-tipped bill among the many commoners? Fortunately another birder pointed the rarity out to me and I gratefully added another tick to my life list. Just a guiltless interloper.

Andy and I did make one initial sighting of a rarity ourselves; or perhaps a semi-rarity. We were at Eagle Lake, near Naples, toward the end of our birding trek and talking more about politics than birds, when I noticed a perching black bird right off the trail. It was too large for a grackle and too small for a crow, and had a bulky bill. About the same time we both blurted out, “Ani”. We knew the bird from a prior trip to Panama, but had never seen it in Florida. It was a Smooth-billed Ani.

We posted our observation on eBird and had our fifteen minutes of fame in the birder’s world, as the initial discoverers. But our notoriety was short-lived. Another birder, posted the same bird a few days later and reported the Ani as “the continuing bird, first seen by…” He gave credit to someone else; we were robbed; our sighting was thereafter assigned to another! C’est la vie. We know who was really first, just that one time.

Don’t think for a moment that our chasing of rarities down here is universally successful. Careful observers have been reporting a small flock of Redheads, the duck I mean, down in Sugden Park, near Naples. I’ve seen the bird in Maryland, but never down here in the heat of South Florida, and Andy had never seen it anywhere. We got excited when we saw a single duck with a light back and dark head swimming off shore, but closer observation revealed a Lesser Scaup. Andy tried to convince me that the head had a reddish tinge, but that was just the wishful thinking of a frustrated birder.

I’ve made two more “empty” trips to the park to see this duck and Andy is now up to six excursions, still with no luck, even on a day when other birders had reported the target Redhead. His greater efforts reflect that urge to add a life bird, something that all birders will understand.

Those trips are really not “empty”. Birders also know that there is never a bad birding day, but rather a chance to see some antics of common birds, try a new photographic technique, or catch a bird in an unlikely pose. Those coot and gallinule shots are from the Sugden trip. The Limpkin seemed like an uncommon bird here just a few years ago, but not now. In fact one keeps us awake nightly with its ghastly call, right outside our condo window.

I ended the Sugden Pond trip witnessing the almost brutal copulation of two Muscovy Ducks. Ducks are known for their aggressive breeding habits, and now I can attest to that. The larger male chased and finally caught the female and almost drowned her in the long process. She finally did escape and survive, but barely. It was all just another sighting on an “empty” trip chasing rarities in south Florida.

Birding Cape Coral, Florida

January 25, 2021brighamstephen 6 Comments

As I walk through these beautiful and lush tropical gardens of southwest Florida, I often stop and think, if I was a bird, this is exactly where I’d be. What more could I ask for, surrounded by flowering shrubs too numerous to name, orchids and bromeliads clinging to the trunks of palms, and a climate to die for. So I sit and wait with the binos at the ready, and no birds show up. I guess I don’t think like a bird and should perhaps take some comfort in that. But just remember, in terms of weight of gray matter per body weight, the birds stack up quite well against me, and unfortunately their advantage seems to be growing.

So where are all the birds hanging out down here? At least in the last several weeks, many of them, including a couple rarities, have chosen the unlikely habitat of Cape Coral, slightly west of Fort Myers. Cape Coral is another planned Florida community. In 1957 the Rosen brothers of Baltimore flew over what was then known as Redfish Point and had a vision. They purchased 103 square miles for $678,000 and sub-divided it into a grid of small, affordable lots. An extensive canal system was dug to drain the swamp, eventually measuring 400 miles in length.

The Rosens marketed this land throughout the U.S., offering free dinners and a money-backed guarantee if a buyer should change his mind when he finally examined his purchase. By 1963 2850 souls lived on Cape Coral; today there are 194,000.

There are still many empty lots available. I first saw a Burrowing Owl on a vacant lot there several years ago and recently eBird has been reporting sightings of Florida Scrub Jays, and a single Groove-billed Ani and Ash-throated Flycatcher. The temptation was just too much to resist, so Andy and I took the drive north to check it out–twice in one week.

The report said the birds were located in Festival Park, but you won’t find such a park on any map. Luckily eBird also shows you a map with latitude and longitude, and with a GPS it should be easy to find. Actually, it was not all that easy. Remember, Cape Coral is crisscrossed with canals, interrupting streets and avenues, seemingly in every direction. We got lost, even on the second visit, but eventually found the park on the corner of NW 26 Street and NW 11 Place. If you see some gas-powered model airplanes buzzing overhead, you know you are getting close.

There is no discernible park there; just more vacant lots with a somewhat larger area set aside with a barely mowed field containing a few stands of taller shrubs and wild palms. This is not the Florida landscape that would attract me, but these birds think differently–big time. On our first visit we parked the car off the dirt road when we saw the telltale group of birders, all looking in the same direction. That’s a sure sign you’re in the right place and sure makes your job easier. The Ani would occasionally poke his head out and fly 100 yards to another perch, and the flock of birders would follow. We finally got some good shots with the sun behind us. A black bird is a tough photographic challenge.

The Groove-billed Ani is a Mexican and Central American bird, rarely seen in Florida. It appeared to be alone and obviously was lost. Perhaps the sandy soil and scant vegetation reminded him of home. We’ll never know for sure. This bird should be differentiated from the Smooth-billed Ani which is much more common in the Caribbean and south Florida.

This “park” attracts many other species of birds as well. Loggerhead Shrikes perched on every telephone wire, vying for a spot with the occasional American Kestrel. Eastern Meadowlarks loved the uncut fields and led us on a merry chase as we tried to get a good flight shot. It didn’t happen. We were trudging through the short grass when we flushed a bunch of quail, scampering away upright, as they do. Andy attributed this to fate. He had never seen a Northern Bobwhite and just happened to be working on a jigsaw puzzle of quail back at home. Jigsaw puzzling is a major pastime down here in Florida. I tried to reward him by setting him up for the perfect flight shot, as perhaps Steven Spielberg might do. He got ready, feet apart, camera up and in rapid fire mode, no zoom, etc., while I inched forward to flush the Bobwhites. Usually a bird will fly away from you when you do this, but this time, in a flurry of commotion and beating wings, they flew right at Andy, He was too busy ducking to get off a shot.

For some reason, on that first visit to Festival Park we ignored the flycatcher reports. The Ash-throated Flycatcher is also way out of its usual range which is normally the Rocky Mountains, Western U.S. and Mexico. There are no mountains at Cape Coral. Since the sighting persisted on eBird we returned specifically to see it a few days later. Again we found a small group of birders led by an alpha male walking through the park. Andy hooked up with that group while I set out alone. Sure as shooting, the alpha male found the bird first. By the time I showed up, the best poses were done and the bird had spooked to the denser underbrush. I did get enough of a look to honestly tick it as my latest life bird.

Ash-throated Flycatcher, Myiarchus cinerascens (photo by A. Sternick)

Think Great-crested Flycatcher when looking for this bird. To me it’s just a slightly smaller version, with perhaps a paler throat. I’m guessing these two birds shared a common ancestor recently–perhaps ten million years ago, and one went west while the other came east on our continent. This western bird on Cape Coral is likely just searching for his long lost cousin.

Chasing the Mangrove Cuckoo

January 6, 2021January 6, 2021brighamstephen 9 Comments

On the face of it “chasing” birds seems like an impossible task. These birds are rare, they’re fast, they fly, and they hide. We never really catch one in the classic sense. A chase may end up with a fleeting glance or even just a few notes of a song, but more likely it ends with nothing. In the case of a dog chasing a car, one wonders what the dog is going to do when he catches it. For us birders, on the rare day when we “catch” our quarry, it will be time for high fives all around and a celebratory drink back at the lodge as we recount the adventure and tick off another life bird.

Blue-gray Gnatcatcher, Polioptila caerulea

It never ceases to amaze me that we actually find a reported rarity on a few occasions, sometimes even in the same tree or perched on the same fence when it was reported on an eBird alert days earlier. That’s why I was only lukewarm while accepting an invitation from Andy and Sam to chase the Mangrove Cuckoo seen off and on for a week at the famous Ding Darling NWR on Sanibel Island, Florida. With eBird and their alert system, rarities are becoming less rare.

The Mangrove Cuckoo had no business still being present on Sanibel. True, there are plenty of mangroves there, but the cuckoo much prefers the warmer tropics this time of year. Although our Florida winter has been mild, the last few days leading up to our chase were decidedly cooler and any self-respecting Mangrove Cuckoo should have long since headed south. Despite my seventeen years in Florida I have never seen this elusive bird, even in the heat of summer. It was also a potential lifer for my two companions on the chase.

You might picture a chase as a wind-blown jaunt in an open jeep, dust flying, screeching tires, careening around trees and through mud puddles, with four-legged creatures diving out of the way. Nothing could be further from the truth. My friends picked me up in their luxury car, soft music playing, AC cranked up, GPS tracking tuned in, with plenty of snacks and water close at hand. It was birding in fine style.

Prior successful chases for me in the Sunshine State started when the Florida Scrub Jay landed on my head at the Lyonia Preserve, near Deltona in 2010 and I was able to rotate my camera upward and catch a shot of the bold life bird. In that case the bird chased me. Andy and I chased the increasingly rare Red Cockaded Woodpecker last spring at the Babcock Web preserve near Punta Gorda. That episode did involve an actual chase on foot across the wetlands, pursuing the bird for a better photo. I caught the Burrowing Owl the first time on Cape Coral, and then again, closer to home on Marco Island.

We also successfully chased the Vermilion Flycatcher in the Great Cypress Preserve where we found it perched on the same fence that the helpful eBirder described in his alert. The less colorful Hammond’s Flycatcher also surprised us last year by showing up right on schedule on the boardwalk at Corkscrew Sanctuary as dozens of birders gaped and took their photos.

Vermilion Flycatcher, Pyrocephalus rubinus

Red-cockaded Woodpecker, Picoides borealis

On the road to Sanibel I tried to dampen down our expectations. We could depend on good shots of some wading birds, and maybe get a close-up of a Reddish Egret doing its captivating dance or a snoozing Night Heron, even if we didn’t find the cuckoo. We parked in the general vicinity of prior sightings and saw and heard nothing. The Mangrove Cuckoo has a low-pitched and raspy call and is often heard, rather than seen. There were a few other birders nosing around but no one had seen or heard anything of the cuckoo. We were about to pack it in when a bird, about the right size, flashed into a mangrove very close to us right alongside Wildlife Drive.

The mangrove trees are dense, large-leafed affairs with plenty of hiding spaces for a bird, and this bird found them all. Finally he stuck his head out to check us out, and we all saw the characteristic black facial mask and curved bill with the yellow mandible. Successful chase! But we are also photographers and were not satisfied with that first meager look. An hour and 400 shots later the deceptive bird finally gave us what we all hoped for; a full frontal shot, gorgeous tail and all, perched in perfect sunlight with no obscuring branches or leafs. The bird itself was now singing, apparently tired of hiding from his pursuers.

By this time a birding crowd had gathered and some were downright giddy with happiness at the sighting. For many of them it was also a lifer, and just like us, had been sought for years. The non-birders hiking and biking through the reserve watched our reaction, shook their heads, and wondered who were the real cuckoos that day. But you birders all understand. There is a welcomed satisfaction as we tick off life birds. But there are obviously fewer of these un-ticked birds out there for each of us, and their sightings are becoming difficult, requiring more and more effort, longer birding trips, and a bit of luck. The years also keep ticking by and I still have 9,078 birds to chase worldwide, but that’s one less than I had last week.

Best Birds of 2020

December 19, 2020June 14, 2021brighamstephen 13 Comments

How can there be a best of anything in 2020, you say. To quote my young friend, “The only thing that’s open is nothing!” Isn’t this another year that will live in infamy, similar to Queen Elizabeth’s recent personal annus horribilis. It’s true that I couldn’t take any foreign birding trips and had to stick to the local patches, but even those gave up some decent shots.

It seems I have quite a number of shots of passerines, peaking out among the leaves and only partially visible. But isn’t this just the way of our birding lives; fleeting glances of beauty, here for a second and then gone forever. Sounds like there’s a sermon in there, waiting to be preached.

I’ve chosen the inevitable “F” shots, feeding, flocking, and flying. Birds just being birds while we voyeurs, aka birders, watch and shoot.

I know it’s just a Mallard, but if you put the accent on the second syllable and look very closely you’ll see some real beauty in that common puddle duck.

I try to avoid the classic poses or portrait views, however some sneak anyway by virtue of color, background, or other photographic features. I don’t usually get a clear shot of the Painted Bunting in the “wild” away from the Corkscrew Swamp bird feeder, so I’ve included that lucky view and marvel again at this spectacular bird.

The Short-tailed Hawk shot is not technically anything special, but reminds me of my first sighting of this nemesis bird. Everyone was reporting this bird in Florida, except me. Finally I learned to look up, way up and found him circling in a kettle of vultures. Looking up; you’d think that would come naturally to a true birder. Sounds like the makings of another sermon.

Lastly, there are shots that just strike my fancy because of color, texture, background, or lighting. In particular I like that dark Grackle posed on nature’s blues and greens, and that Bluebird in a similar setting.

There’s only six shopping days left before Christmas and perhaps a last chance for a few more lucky shots. Until next year, hope your Christmas and New Year’s holidays are joyful and safe, and thank you again for your interest and comments over this last annus horribilis.

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Category Florida Birding