The Associated Press has a terrific story out today on the resurgence of the bald eagle, and I’m quoted in it. Having headed several AP bureaus and served as a university spokesperson, I’m accustomed to speaking with reporters.
But this is the first time I can recall being quoted as an individual, in this case as a birder familiar with bald eagles in New Jersey.
Trenton-based AP reporter Mike Catalini found this blog and contacted me by email several days ago, looking for a birder to comment on the improving fortunes of our national bird. We had a nice conversation by telephone.
Riffing off the Philadelphia Eagles’ Super Bowl appearance this weekend, Mike wrote a fine story that includes a concise history of how bald eagles, nearly wiped out by DDT, have rallied in the last few decades to shed their endangered status.
Here’s hoping the Eagles will follow with a few rallies of their own this weekend. 🦅
Sometimes it takes a while for the bird recognition neurons in my brain to kick in. That happened this morning as I was looking out the windows toward our backyard feeders.
I’d watched a female downy woodpecker fly onto the suet feeder and munch a while before flitting off. A few minutes later, another woodpecker arrived, this one with the red cap at the back of its head. Ah, that must be the male, I reckoned.
I watched the bird peck away for a minute or so when it dawned on me that the bird was about as tall as the suet cake, much larger than the female that preceded it. Then I took a hard look at the bird’s bill. It wasn’t the stubby bill of a downy but longer and proportionally larger relative to the bird’s head.
Then the neuron fired — hairy woodpecker!
I popped over to my camera and blasted off several shots of Mr. Hairy. To help others and to reinforce the identifying cues in my brain, I’m posting below a shot I took last January of a downy woodpecker on the suet feeder. Note how it’s not as tall as the suet cake or the cage. In contrast, the head of the hairy woodpecker in the photo atop this post is even with the top of the cage, and its tail extends below the cage.
Male downy woodpecker at the suet cage, January 2024.
Here’s another shot of the hairy woodpecker for comparison purposes. 🦅
Last week I had knee replacement surgery, and it will be a few if not several weeks before I can get back out into the fields. Even though I’m largely homebound, I can still partake of the pleasure of watching the birds through the windows that frame our backyard and the golf course beyond it.
Yesterday was sunny, and a Carolina wren that was snacking at our suet feeder was my cue to pick up my camera and stake out a spot on a chair near the back door.
I blasted off several shots of the wren and also aimed at a few dark-eyed juncos, mourning doves, house sparrows, a downy woodpecker and a squirrel. Some were photogenic than others, and I have chosen accordingly for this post. 🦅
Even if you aren’t a birder, you very likely will like Wingspan, a popular board game released in 2019 that challenges players to develop bird populations in forest, grassland and wetland habitats.
If you are a birder and haven’t yet played Wingspan, you probably will soon, either at the invitation of a friend who has it or you decide to buy it yourself.
I first played it with my daughter and her family last year. One of my sons sent us our own game ahead of a recent visit to help out while I recover from knee surgery.
From a birder’s perspective, the game is a delight. Cards for 170 birds in the main edition are beautifully drawn and list details about each bird’s characteristics such as diet and habitat.
The object of the game is to score more points than your opponents, and you do so by accumulating and placing on the board birds with varying values. Some birds can be placed in multiple habitats while others are limited to one.
To get the birds onto the board, you have to provide their proper foods — berries, grain, rodents, etc. Bonus cards get you extra points. For example, one time I played I got extra points for birds with geographical references in their names, as in Canada Goose or American tree sparrow.
You can also score points by laying and accumulating eggs placed in multiple nest styles.
Over four rounds, your fortunes shift. As with many modern board games, the play is complicated, and it can take you a few rounds to get the hang of strategy.
As each bird card is revealed, I get a small rush of recognition — “I have photos of that one!” or “Ooh, I’d love to see one of those!”
There a couple of international editions of Wingspan if you’re looking for additional challenges.
Win or lose, you pick up new facts about our feathered friends each time you play. You might also get a friend or family member interested in doing some birding. 🦅
We’re at the front end of a cold snap that will bring temperatures down into the single digits Fahrenheit for a few days. We had two to three inches of snow fall yesterday, and I pulled on my Muck boots to head to the Mercer Meadows Pole Farm.
It was slim pickings for birds. I saw a couple of sparrows flash past me as I started up the trail. Without a cloud in the sky, the sunshine nearly blinded me as I tried to focus on one of the sparrows perched on a stalk of grass.
In such intense sunlight, I had to nudge my hat into a cockeyed angle to shield the viewfinder. I wasn’t sure if I’d even get a shot fair enough to identify the bird.
After shooting several frames, I moved on and spotted a Northern harrier flying along the tree line nearly half a mile away. She would not come any closer.
Off the trail in a small tree, I spotted a plump sparrow sunning itself. In tough sun again, I was able to focus more easily than on the first sparrow. The bird in tree was a Savannah sparrow, and it’s the bird shown in the top photo on this post.
That first sparrow I shot? Of the 20 or so shots I took in its direction, half missed the bird entirely and I got one reasonably clear shot that established its identity as an American tree sparrow.
American tree sparrow, with it’s bi-colored beak and rufous cap. I’m happy that my camera was able to get this shot while I was shooting blind a good distance from the bird.
It’s a rare day when I only report three species at the Pole Farm, and I feel lucky at that because the harrier was the only ID I knew for sure.
I should add that I only walked a quarter mile up the trail and returned, a much shorter jaunt than my usual mile or two. But it was cold out, and I had to get home to shovel my sidewalk.
I’m warm now, pondering whether I should venture out again. At mid-morning, the light is awesome … 🦅
Whether it’s a single bird or one of many, I can count on seeing and photographing great blue herons at the Millstone River Impoundment in Princeton. At first this morning, I didn’t see the heron in its usual spot just off the pedestrian bridges over the Delaware and Raritan canal.
I walked on the east side of the canal and made a loop back on the west side, where I stopped on the edge of the water just before I turned back to my car. I spotted an immature bald eagle flying away from me, and I raised my camera only to get a few fleeting shots as it hurried off. But moments later a heron came flying across the water and looped back toward me.
The sky was cloudy, but I caught a break as the sun peeked out as the heron came sailing toward me. The photo topping the post was the best of those I took, and if you look closely, you can see water glistening on the bird’s feet.
Some hooded mergansers paraded by as well, backlit as they made their way from my right to my left. 🦅
With a female in the lead, three hooded mergansers float on Lake Carnegie.
One of the joys of photographing birds is the unexpected bird that shows up on your computer screen, as happened to me this morning. I was on one of my usual two-mile loops at the Mercer Meadows Pole Farm, walking the trail counterclockwise, when I spotted a couple of bluebirds in a tree with small red berries.
The bluebirds were a small surprise in that I usually see them in other parts of the park. But through my binoculars and a quick check of the first few shots I took on my camera, I could see they were definitely bluebirds. When a third bird flew into the tree, I figured it was one more bluebird.
At home, I brought up my photos on the screen and was pleased to see the image topping this post. The bird’s right wing is extended, and its beak is snatching one of the berries.
Hermit thrush.
The bird’s head, however, had what appeared to be the barest minimum of blue for an Eastern bluebird. Then I noticed the streaked breast and finally the eye ring. That’s not a bluebird, I thought, it’s a hermit thrush!
While hermit thrushes are not unknown at the Pole Farm, I sight them infrequently. To erase any lingering doubts, I put the photos into Merlin, which confirmed hermit thrush.
When I added the thrush to my e-Bird report, I was surprised again. The hermit thrush was, logically, listed under Thrushes. But so were the Eastern bluebirds, which if I’d known were thrushes I had forgotten.
Speaking of bluebirds, I was able to get a couple of photos of them in the same tree that the hermit thrush had visited. The shots were tricky because the bluebirds were most of the time perched amid small branches.
It was difficult to get a clear shot, and I was pleased that my Canon R7 had managed to focus sharply on the birds’ eyes for a few well-focused shots. They give me hope that I’m starting to improve in mastering the auto-focus capabilities of the camera.
An Eastern bluebird tucked amid the branches of a tree.
On the home stretch of my walk back to my car, I encountered another bluebird surprisingly close to me. I was able to get off a couple of over-its-shoulder shots before it flew off. A few minutes later, a Northern flicker flew into the row of trees but took off before I could raise my camera.
While I missed a flicker shot, I have the thrush and bluebirds to remember the day by. No complaints! 🦅
A morning appointment kept me from my usual swing through the Pole Farm, but I was able to get out to John A. Roebling Park and Trenton marsh this afternoon. I was rewarded with the usual assortment of ducks and geese.
I was disappointed by not spotting any Northern shovelers, but I did see a fair number of Northern pintails floating among the mallards. One of the former is shown swimming with the latter in the photo topping this post.
Roebling Park encompasses the marsh and Spring Lake, which at mid-afternoon had fewer waterbirds than I usually see in these cold months. I finally got a glimpse at some ring-necked ducks swimming with mallards at the back end of the lake while I was stalking a belted kingfisher flitting across the marsh.
I didn’t capture the kingfisher on camera, but I was fortunate to spot a blob in a nearby tree that turned out to be a red-tailed hawk, my first sighting of the year.
Magnificence in feathers and talons: the red-tailed hawk.
Light snow is falling as I write just ahead of sunset, and with luck I may have a fluffy white background against which to shoot some birds tomorrow. 🦅
On this first day of 2025, I got a fast start on birding. I began the day under a beautiful cloud-dappled sky at the Mercer Meadows Pole Farm, logging 13 species in an out-and-back walk on the central trail.
Three American crows flew into a tree as I got out of my car, making them my first official sightings for 2025. A short while later I spotted an American tree sparrow close to a few song sparrows.
Curiously, I didn’t see a Northern harrier, which is unusual for this time of year. Surprisingly, I got a nice look at a field sparrow sitting before a metal fence at the AT&T Building One site. I’m always happy to get a field sparrow photo, and this bird certainly was cute.
Field sparrow at the Pole Farm.
Three Savannah sparrows were in the grasses as I made my way back down the trail but I didn’t get a clear shot.
When I got home, I watched the usual suspects show up at our feeders: house sparrows, downy and red-bellied woodpeckers, a white-breasted nuthatch and dark-eyed juncos. A white-throated sparrow poked its head out of one of the bushes at the front of our house.
A big flock of Canada geese was back on the neighboring golf course, and I figure it’s the same geese who were here yesterday. Among them was an immature snow goose, which surely must be the same one we saw yesterday.
At mid-afternoon, I drove to Trenton to see what was on the water at John A. Roebling Park. Mallards were plentiful, as were ring-necked ducks, gadwalls and Northern pintails. I didn’t spot any Northern shovelers or teals on the marsh, but a pair of mute swans were plying Spring Lake.
The swans on Spring Lake.
On the way home, I diverted briefly to Colonial Lake in Lawrence Township to see what I might see. A group of ring-billed gulls were on the water, and I was pleased to spot a male hooded merganser in the middle of the lake. While I couldn’t get a crisp shot of that bird, several mallards floated close by in nice light.
All told, I spotted 29 species today. Birding for me isn’t all about the numbers, but when I get a good daily score, I feel good about it. 🦅
“What’s that white bird out there?” my wife asked at the breakfast table this morning. “Out there, in the geese.”
As there were about 200 Canada geese on the neighboring golf course, just beyond our property line, it took me a while to pick out the white bird. I grabbed my camera, dashed outside and blasted off several shots, hoping I’d be able to get a clear ID.
The bird was the same size as most of the Canadas surrounding it. It was white but had black streaking on its back, and I couldn’t clearly make out its beak. While I wondered if I was shooting pictures of some sort of weird hybrid, my wife grabbed a bird book, stuck her head out the back door and said, “It’s a snow goose. An immature snow goose.”
Right she was.
This is our ninth winter in our house. We have seen thousands upon thousands of Canada geese out on the golf course, some of them risking my wife’s wrath by waddling into our yard. Yet until today, I’d never seen a snow goose among them. Nor have I knowingly seen a cackling goose, the odds of which have to be better than finding the snow goose.
But a snow goose it was, and I’m taking that as a good omen for 2025.
I had good karma this morning in my walk at the Mercer Meadows Pole Farm, catching a red-shouldered hawk perched on a branch in the large tree near the parking lot. There weren’t many other birds perching or flying beyond a few sparrows, but that’s how birding goes — feast or famine.
Red-shouldered hawk.
The sun was streaming beautifully later in the day, and I went back to the Pole Farm for a late afternoon walk. I spooked a Northern harrier off a post, and I think this is a fine frame with which to end the year.
Northern harrier soaring at the Pole Farm.
As for 2024, I failed at meeting my goal of birding in all the New Jersey counties in which I hadn’t previously visited. I added three counties in that ambitious goal, and I won’t delude myself into thinking I can complete the map in the coming year.
I did record 152 species worldwide this year, thanks in part to December visits to Prague and Dresden, Germany. That trip also contributed to my adding 15 species to my life list. I’m happy with that. I shall sleep contentedly tonight, likely dreaming about the adventures that lie ahead in 2025. 🦅
The Jersey Birder 