Crossing the frozen Delaware River for a lifer

We’re in a long stretch of frigid weather, and it was 6 degrees when I headed off yesterday morning for a birding jaunt with my ace birding pal Jim. Our first stop was a new one for me: the Trenton sewage ponds.

Yes, the cement-framed pools at the Trenton sewage treatment plant near the edge of the Delaware River are a birding hotspot. As Jim explained, the ponds are warm year round and attract bugs, which in turn attract birds. As we walked up the driveway to the plant, through the gated fence we immediately saw a couple of swallows (ID undetermined) fly up and then back down toward the dark water in one of the pools.

Lovely setting for birding, no? The sewage ponds as photographed through a gated entrance to the plant.

It wasn’t a busy morning for birds. We saw a handful of yellow-rumped warblers and watched as a Merlin flew overhead with something in its claws. We trudged back to the car and took a look at the Delaware, which at this spot appeared frozen solid. There were even drifts of snow atop the ice.

We took the “Trenton Makes, The World Takes” bridge over to Morrisville, Pennsylvania, and drove to the north end of the levee along the Delaware. There we spotted two female goldeneyes swimming with a female common merganser in a small channel of open water. About 100 Canada geese snoozed nearby.

After a short stop, we drove up to Patterson Farm in nearby Yardley, hoping to catch site of the Lapland longspurs that have been hanging out near some humpback piles of mulch. As we approached the mounds, we saw cars parked on a curve, which was where the stakeout was.

While we spent close to an hour at the spot, we never spotted a longspur. That was a small disappointment, because I was able to see my first horned larks. I estimate there was a flock of 50 of them feeding on the snow-covered fields.

The birds were close to where we parked, feeding in one spot for a few minutes and then taking off to another. The larks kept returning to where we were, no doubt because somebody or somebodies had strewn seed out on the snow (as seen in the photo topping this post).

At one point, a peregrine falcon swooped in over the fields and spooked the larks. The peregrine made a big banking turn and headed off, flying so quickly I didn’t even think about taking a photo. I did take a lot of photos of the horned larks and kept a few favorites, including this one.

A horned lark stands next to a chunk of icy snow on a snow-covered field.
Horned lark stopping on the snowy fields of Patterson Farm.

Even with the cold weather, it was fine day of birding. How often do you get to say you went to a sewage treatment plant, crossed the Delaware and recorded a lifer? 🦅

The juncos and sparrows performed in the storm

The big storm that cut a wide swath across the country left about 8 inches of new snow on the ground at our home. The storm didn’t seem to bother the dark-eyed juncos and three varieties of sparrows that fed virtually all-day long at the feeders.

I expected the house sparrows and wasn’t surprised to see a couple of white-throated sparrows and a few song sparrows chowing down. What did surprise me was the number of juncos that swarmed our yard. I estimate that at least 20 of them were visiting at their peak, many more than the handful we normally see.

The juncos and sparrows seem to be in cahoots when it comes to feeding at our place. The house sparrows take the lead in perching at the main feeder, stuffing themselves and sloppily dropping seeds to the snow below. That’s where the juncos and white-throated sparrows hang out, plucking seeds off the snow. Song sparrows occasionally appeared on the perch but mostly stuck to ground feeding.

On the nyjer tube feeder, I often saw a single junco clinging to the side while four or five of its mates were eagerly plucking at however many of the little black seeds the one up top scattered on the ground.

Snow fell most of the day, flakes for the first several hours and then pellets in the afternoon and evening.

Every time I opened the front door, I flushed two or three juncos that were on the porch, evidently taking a break from the storm.

As I was shoveling snow and using my light-duty electric snowblower, the juncos kept feeding from the small cage feeder we have in our front yard. As I looked up at the feeder, I was struck by how much one of the juncos’ two tailfeathers (white underneath) resembled icicles.

I’d like to think that because I talked to the juncos (everybody talks to birds, right?), they relaxed and didn’t worry about the man in the Princeton parka with the noisy blue machine belching white powder. Even when I pushed the blower only a few feet from the shepherd’s hook holding the feeder, the juncos stood firm and munched.

Once back in the house, I was amused by a song sparrow waiting its turn for the main feeder out our dining room window. The bird (in photo topping this post) waited patiently while the house sparrows sparred with each other and hogged the seed ports.

The birds that come to our yard charm me each day, and I’m grateful for the performance they put on during yesterday’s storm. We’re in for an extended cold spell, and I hope they continue to come calling. 🦅

Snow and sunshine pretty up the Pole Farm

The Mercer Meadows Pole Farm is a beautiful place in all kinds of weather, but I find it extra special after a decent snowfall. We had back-to-back days of snow over the holiday weekend, and I was able to get to the park Monday.

Annoyingly, the gates at the Cold Soil Road parking lot were closed, as always seems to be the case whenever we get more than a dusting of the white stuff. With at least four inches of snow on the ground, I drove over to the ungated lot on Keefe Road and started my walk from there.

The park looked spectacular. From a clear blue sky, the sun shone brightly on the snow-covered branches of the trees. The sun was so bright that the transition lenses on my glasses darkened so deeply that I couldn’t see through the viewfinder of the camera.

Song sparrow standing on snow-covered ground, its beak poking into orangey-brown leaves.
A song sparrow foraging. Thank goodness for auto-focus, as I had taken off my glasses and aimed the best I could.

Sans glasses, I took several wing-and-a-prayer shots. Relatively few birds were making their presence known, but I did get one surprise. An Eastern towhee, usually a Spring arrival, was calling “twee!” from the woods along the trail. I couldn’t find the bird and turned back toward my car.

Throughout, I never got a clear shot of a bird amid the snowy branches. My favorite shot was of a blue jay, a long way off, on a tree top. 🦅

A blue jay perches on the topmost branch of a bare tree, against a bright blue sky. Blobs of snow are on a few of the branches below the bird.
Blue jay perched on high.

Losing track of time while tracking birds

Unexpectedly, I had a transformative experience while birding in the woods today. I had intended to drive to Trenton marsh but mistakenly took an early exit off Interstate 295 and decided to drive to Veterans Park in Hamilton.

Once there, I skirted Martin’s Lake and headed onto the trail that runs along the lake’s south end. I spotted plenty of Canada geese and a dozen common mergansers on the water, but nothing special appeared. I followed my usual path on the lake’s edge and crossed over a cement bridge at which I usually turn to the right and head back on a paved path connects with the levee path on which I entered the park from the western entrance parking lot.

I noticed a slender path beyond the bridge that I’d never taken before and decided to follow it. What a good decision that was. I didn’t realize how far back into the woods the trail would take me, and once I passed the lake I was walking along Pond Run. Several mallards were plying the waters, and although I spooked a few I managed to grab a few shots.

A drake mallard floats along the backwaters of Pond Run, his shadow reflected on the brown water.
Mallard and its shadow on the backwaters of Pond Run.

After a short while along the trail, I came to a clearing. I spotted a large number of birds flitting about the trees and foraging on the ground. A red-bellied woodpecker (depicted in the setting atop this post) drew my interest, flying from tree to tree.

A red-bellied woodpecker clings to the side of a tree.
Red-bellied woodpecker

In short order I spotted a yellow-rumped warbler, a white-throated sparrow and a couple of chickadees. There were also several tufted titmice, flitting about the smaller trees and foraging on the ground.

As common as tufted titmice are in central New Jersey, it’s rare for me to spot more than one or two in an area. But there were at least five and probably more at this spot in the woods.

I took several shots but only a few would be in focus as the birds were moving rapidly, in the air, in the trees and amid the leaves and logs on the ground. At one point, I trained my camera on a pair of titmice that flew into one of the larger trees about 50 feet away. One of the birds cooperatively came to my side of the tree at eye level, giving me my favorite shot of the day.

A tufted titmouse grasps the bark on a tree, appearing almost as if the shot were taken from overhead.
The tufted titmouse, clinging to the side of the tree.

The photo almost seems like an overhead shot, but it was straight on. The bird tilted its head so I could pinpoint focus on its left eye, and I’m happy with the image.

American robins also flew into view, and as I walked a little farther on the trail I spotted several dark-eyed juncos. I turned around and went back to the clearing where I’d seen the titmice and decided it was time to head home.

As I returned to the lake, I checked my iPhone and realized I’d lost track of time. I’d been in the clearing probably 20 minutes, with my thoughts immersed in the presence of the birds.

I had lost all sense of the usual thoughts running through my head — work obligations, how my new knee is holding up, stuff to do at home. It all disappeared as I inhabited the birds’ space as a quiet interloper. What a treat that was. 🦅

My 10 favorite bird photos of 2025

I’ve had a lot of fun reviewing the bird photos I took in 2025, and it took me several passes to sort out the top 10. Weirdly, on my first ranking, I discovered that a few of the birds that made my 2024 top 10 were included in my ’25 list.

Was I playing favorites with Eastern meadowlarks, common mergansers and great blue herons? Not so, but I reconsidered. At the top of the list I chose the one above showing a female common yellowthroat in full-throated exclamation. It’s one I hadn’t posted here previously. I took it June 21 at Mercer Meadows, although I can’t recall precisely where.

I admit freely that common yellowthroats are among my favorite birds. I have plenty of shots of them, mostly males, in profile or three-quarter views with their beaks open in song. Looking at the female, I can’t help but interpret the bird’s seeming rage as a metaphor for the divisive political climate of the United States. I shall make no further comment on that and leave us all to the beauty, joy and occasional humor that birds bring us.

For my second choice, I’m going with a double-crested cormorant just about to ingest a fish on Oct. 4 at Veterans Park in Hamilton. This may be my best image of the year, and — not unlike the fish depicted — I flipped and flopped over whether to designate it No. 1. It is the most dramatic and wild image I took.

A double-crested cormorant on a lake grabs a fish in its beak. The fish's head is pointing directly at the bird's throat.
2. Down the hatch!

While No. 2 shows the harsher side of nature, my third choice brings out its beauty. This Savannah sparrow was perched atop a plant with wine-red berries at the Mercer Meadows Pole Farm, and the light was warm. When color and light converge, the odds of a memorable image increase.

Savannah sparrow perched a cluster of red berries.
3. Savannah sparrow on red berries.

I know you’re here for the images, so I’m going to ease off on the narrative and let the photos and captions carry you the rest of the way.

A ruby-throated hummingbird hovers just to the right of a tall stock of cardinal flower, with bright red blossoms.
4. A ruby-throated hummingbird floats by a red plant at Acadia National Park in Maine. Flecks of nectar can been seen by the bird’s back.
A bald eagle perches atop a bare tree limb, looking down toward the ground.
5. A bald eagle surveying the land from a tree top.
Eastern towhee sitting on a tree branch, turning its head to the left.
6. An Eastern towhee stands in the sun.
A green heron, feet obscured by grasses, stands on a downed log in a swamp.
A green heron perches on a log at the Dyson Tract swamp near the Delaware and Raritan Canal.
A yellow warbler takes off from a bare tree branch and flies toward a deep blue sky above.
8. A yellow-warbler takes flight at the Dyson Tract.
A blue-gray gnatcatcher clings upside down on a tree branch and pecks at a green leaf.
9. An upside-down blue-gray gnatcatcher snips at a tree branch.
A Northern harrier, its wingtips illuminated from behind by the setting sun, soars over a field and in front of bare trees in the background.
10. Northern harrier flying at sunset at the Pole Farm.

Thanks for following my blog, and I hope you enjoyed seeing these photos. (The gnatcatcher shot is also first published here.) 2026 is underway, and I’m looking forward to sharing more of my birding adventures in the months ahead. 🦅

When raptors make a house call — at your own home

I wasn’t able to leave home today to go birding, which makes what transpired this afternoon all the more remarkable. Early in the afternoon, just before my wife and I sat down for lunch, I looked out the dining room window and was astonished to see a hawk in the laurel tree that marks the border with our neighbors’ yard.

Even more surprising, it was a red-shouldered hawk — one I had never spotted on our lot before. I was able to grab my camera and take several shots. The bird was mostly in the clear, although its beak was slightly obscured by a small branch. This shot was best of the lot.

Red-shouldered hawk sitting in profile on a tree branch, with smaller branches surrounding it.
Red-shouldered hawk.

I moved a few steps around our Christmas tree to try to get a shot straighter on from a window on the side of the house, but by then the bird had disappeared. I reckon that a house sparrow that had been perched stock still in one of the bushes by the house was breathing easier after that.

After lunch, I went back into the dining room and glanced onto the golf course beyond our property line. To my amazement, a mature bald eagle was sitting on the side of the 11th hole.

A mature bald eagle, with a white head, yellow beak and white tail, sits in the grass.
Bald eagle sitting in grass on the edge of the 11th hole.

I picked up the camera and shot a few frames through a window, then opened the sliding back door. The eagle either saw me move or heard the shutter click, and it took off to fly a loop close to the condominiums that parallel the 10th fairway.

I looked through the trees and picked up the bird for a few seconds, trusting autofocus and motor drive to do their duty.

With condos the background and tree branches in the foreground, a bald eagle starts turning toward its right and begins heading toward the photogrpaher.
The eagle starts turning toward me.

The camera did a decent job on a few frames, and if I had better Lightroom skills I might have offered a couple of other photos of the bird flying toward me. It eventually went between our house and the neighbors’ place and out of sight.

This wasn’t our first eagle spotting at home. Last February, a bald eagle flew a similar loop over the golf course on Super Bowl Sunday. There have been other sightings over our 10 years here.

No matter where I see a bald eagle, it’s a thrill. Seeing one so close to me on a day when a red-shouldered hawk also appeared is an experience I won’t forget. 🦅

Slip-sliding into the new year

I can’t not get out and go birding on New Year’s Day. So with a bitter wind blowing in my face, I headed up the trail at the Mercer Meadows Pole Farm, quickly realizing that underneath the half inch of snow that had fallen overnight lay a slippery layer of ice.

With that gusty wind blowing, I wasn’t able to spot a single bird in the fields. But as I reached the edge of the woods, robins started appearing. And appearing. And reappearing.

Few other birds were about, but as I reversed course and exited the woods, I spotted several house finches in the cedars at the edge of the fields. One of the males tops this post.

Seeing a report of bald eagles at Mercer County Park, at mid-morning I drove over there. The big group of eagles had skedaddled, but I did spot one swooping over the lake. I wasn’t quick enough to catch a photo of it worth saving.

I did, however, spot a blue jay and catch it on camera.

A blue jay sits on a medium tree branch, with smaller branches framing it.
Blue Jay at Mercer County Park.

As 4 p..m. approached, I made a quick run back to the Pole Farm, hoping that perhaps a short-eared owl or Northern harrier would appear at sunset. I saw three harriers, including the “gray ghost” male, but they were too far off for a decent shot.

I did shoot the moon, literally, and I’m happy to end this post with that shot. Good birding and good shooting to all in ’26.

Come to think of it, 26 is Saquon Barkley’s jersey number on the Philadelphia Eagles. Go birds! 🦅

The moon, nearly full, floats in a deep blue sky.
The nearly full moon hovering over the Mercer Meadows Pole Farm a few minutes before sunset.

A (tundra) swan song for 2025

For my last outing of 2025, I headed to John Roebling Park late this morning, hoping to catch sight of a tundra swan that was reported there yesterday. I had only to walk a short way up the trail from the parking lot to spot the bird, chilling with a few gulls in the middle of Spring Lake.

Finding this rare visitor from the Arctic at Abbott Marshlands bore a certain irony. Previously, visitors to the park could expect nearly every day of the year to see a pair of mute swans on the lake or on the nearby marsh. But the mute swans disappeared sometime in the spring and have not come back, to my great chagrin.

Tundra swan floating on lake turns its head to the side and gazes acros the blue water.
The tundra swan turns its head and looks across the lake.

But the tundra sighting was welcome on this cold and sunny final day of 2025, a natural point of reflection. I logged 142 species in Mercer County, seven better than last year. I’m not driven by numbers (well, maybe a little) but I’m pleased with the result. I missed several weeks of birding in the immediate weeks after undergoing knee surgeries in January and November. Still, I managed to file 316 checklists on e-Bird, filling some of the gaps by birding from home while recuperating.

I counted 11 lifers in 2025, bringing my total to 240. While I didn’t go birding in any new counties in New Jersey, I was able to get a few of those lifers in West Virginia, Maine and Pennsylvania.

For 2026, I look forward to more birding in more places and more time on the trails with birding friends. I thank all my readers for taking time to read my posts, visit my site and offer comments. I am fortunate for your friendship, from near and far. Happy New Year! 🦅

Indoor ‘birding’ at the Princeton University Art Museum

With winds gusting to 50 mph today, I was not in the mood to battle the cold when I expected few birds would be flying. Instead, I headed to the Princeton University Art Museum, intent on pursuing a weird idea: to find birds depicted in the museum’s collections.

The new museum, which opened to the public Oct. 31, was built on the same spot on campus where the previous museum was located. The new museum has a greater gallery capacity in which to show off its outstanding collections.

On this, my second visit to the new building, I spent the bulk of my time on the second floor, where the standing exhibits are based, everything from ancient sculpture to modern paintings.

At the top of the stairway that takes visitors from the lobby to the second floor, I spotted the first bird: a dove hovering between the angel and Mary in a stained-glass depiction of the Annunciation. The placard explaining the piece included commentary from Virginia Raguin, an emeritus professor at my alma mater, the College of the Holy Cross, where I minored in art history.

A white dove hovers between Mary, in a blue gown and holding her hands in prayer, and an angel, robed in red with index finger extended.
Stained-glass depiction of the Annunciation, circa 1600 from either the Netherlands or northern Italy.

As I entered a gallery that features several Impressionist paintings, I was drawn to a 1903 Monet featuring a flock of seagulls flying before the Houses of Parliament in London. A photo of that painting tops this post.

Turning a corner, I found a spectacular painting from the early 1600s, Cupid Supplicating Jupiter, credited to Willem Panneels, after Peter Paul Rubens. A huge eagle dominates the foreground of the painting. On the same wall was a painting by Rubens himself depicting Jupiter, in the guise of an eagle, abducting Ganymede, who would become cup-bearer to the god (aka Zeus to the Greeks).

A huge eagle in foreground spreads its wings. Behind, naked Cupid with angel wings approaches the god Jupiter, bare-chested and otherwise wrapped in a flowing red garment.
The eagle steals the scene in this painting of Cupid appealing to Jupiter.
Ganymede, blond-haired and naked, is grabbed by a large brown eagle.
Abduction of Ganymede.

The eagle paintings were the most spectacular depictions of birds that I found during my visit, and I make no claim that I saw every bird in the galleries. There are hundreds of objects on display, many of them small items displayed in glass cases.

One of my favorite aspects of the new museum is what I jokingly refer to as the Gallery of Useful Pots to Put Things In. It’s a splendidly lit set of cases surrounding an atrium, and the shelves are full of cups, bowls, pitchers, ewers and other items from a wide range of cultures. I’ve included a few of those items in the gallery immediately below.

A duck, perhaps?
Owl and duck, methinks.
A cool pitcher with a long beak.
L-R, a bowl with a goose-necked bird, a bowl with a bird, and an owl. Note how my hand and iPhone are reflected below the objects.

Throughout the galleries, I found several depictions of birds from up and down the centuries of human history. This gallery shows a few more.

Bronze ibis, Egypt (712-332 BCE)
Oinochoe (jug), Cypress, ca. 750-550 BCE
Owls, China, 2nd-1st century BCE
Birds top right, Snowy Morning, Japan, 1830
Crane detail, vase, Korea, 12th-13th century

One of my favorite paintings seen today was by a contemporary artist, Becky Suss. Her “August, 2016” work that takes up most of a wall includes a lamp featuring a base resembling a peregrine falcon.

Interior of a house, with love seats facing one another and a lamp with a large bird for a base.
“August 2016” by Becky Suss

What I’ve posted represents most of the birds I observed, but I’m sure there are more to discover on future visits, which will be frequent. The museum is free to all comers and is open daily, with the exception of a few major holidays. If you can’t make it to Princeton, the museum’s website has a rich trove of photos of its collections. 🦅

Eagles aplenty, and a visitor from the Arctic

My friend Jim and I crossed the Delaware River from Trenton this morning on a hunt for a rare visitor from the Arctic: a rough-legged hawk. Amazingly, we spotted the bird almost immediately, but the morning had much more in store for us.

The rough-legged hawk had been reported the previous few days hunting around the Penn Warner Club, a private fishing and recreation area at the south end of Morrisville, Pennsylvnia. The town is along the Delaware River roughly 30 miles north of Philadelphia.

View to the North from the club parking lot. We spotted the rough-legged hawk along the ridge line in the distance. Two red-tailed hawks perched on posts at the top of the hill.

As Jim and I drove into our target area on Bordentown Road, he spotted two bald eagles in a roadside tree –– a good omen. We turned to the road that would take us to a club parking lot and soon spotted a hawk-like bird perched on a pipe at the top of the ridge to our left. Pulling off to the side of the public road, we hopped out of the car and trained binoculars and cameras on the bird.

Rough-legged hawk perched atop a post with a hose connecting to it.
Rough-legged hawk.

After a minute or two, the bird flew off. We checked our camera screens and got our proof. The bird had a mostly white face with a white bib above a dark body — a rough-legged hawk.

We drove to the club parking lot a short way ahead and spotted a few more bald eagles in trees along the way. Once at the lot, we spotted four bald eagles atop a power transmission tower, and I watched as a fifth eagle harassed one of them. Both flew off.

At another point, we saw three eagles atop another tower, and there were many others alone or together in trees and on an ice sheet on a lake off the road.

The eagles were a mix of adults and juveniles, so many young ones that I was heartened for the future of the bird that once was on the precipice of extinction.

Bald eagle standing atop a power transmission tower, with icicles hanging from the crossbeam on which it was perched.
Mature bald eagle up high, atop a power tower.

A passing motorist told us there were more bald eagles down the road, and we confirmed that as we drove south. We stopped near a bridge that spanned a cove where we saw a coot, buffleheads and ruddy ducks. Farther out on the water were hundreds of common mergansers, with many others flying overhead.

Male “gray ghost” Northern harrier standing on the ground.

Toward the end of our two-hour visit, we spotted red-tailed hawks, male and female Northern harriers, and an American kestrel. Jim’s hunch that a bird we saw atop one of the power towers was a peregrine falcon turned out to be accurate once we got home and checked our photos.

We figure we saw around 30 eagles, an astonishing total and the largest number I’ve ever seen. My previous high total was 27 bald eagles I saw at Mendenhall Glacier in Juneau, Alaska, 30 years ago.

I gained a lifer in the rough-legged hawk, which we spotted a second time on our way back up the road. It flew from one post to another, so we drove a bit to see it clearly and closer on the second post. As soon as I pulled my camera out of the car, the bird flew off. I believe Jim got a shot of that, and we decided it was time for us to head off, too. 🦅

Note: the Penn Warner Club is private, members only, as signs near the gates to several sections plainly note. Jim and I parked briefly on the sides of the road and at a few pullouts. Several other birders parked with us at the parking lot by the club’s main entrance. We did not venture farther onto club land and don’t recommend it for others.