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. 🦅
Ranking one’s favorite photos is a difficult task, akin to ranking one’s favorite desserts, cars or children. While over the span of a year I take scores of clunkers, I also look back fondly on the keepers.
My list of favorites is a mish-mash: some make the list for their technical quality, others rate because I find the birds appealing.
My top image is, appropriately, at the top of this post. It shows a red-tailed hawk swooping across a field at the Mercer Meadows Pole Farm, which itself is my favorite birding location. I took the photo on April 27 while birding with my friend Andy, and that day was probably my single best day for birds and photography combined this year. The photo, taken on my Canon SL2, is clear and sharp, thanks to plentiful sunshine. Give credit to the bird, too: it cooperated by flying in and out of a tree near the parking lot.
While that shot shows a bird in flight, my No. 2 favorite features a great blue heron standing still at the Millstone River impoundment in Princeton on Oct. 19. With my SL2 starting to fail, I brought my old Canon XT out of mothballs and used it to capture the heron framed by branches.
2. Great blue heron
Most of my shots tend to zero in on the birds, but my No. 3 favorite is a wide shot I snapped of an Eastern meadowlark at the Pole Farm on Oct. 12. It was the last best shot I got out of the SL2. I have since upgraded to a Canon R7.
3. Meadowlark in a meadow.
I was going to switch to a gallery for the remaining shots, but WordPress isn’t cooperating (i.e., I messed something up). So here are the others. Apologies for the different caption styles — and happy new year! 🦅
4. Female common merganser in flight.5. Red-shouldered hawk close up.6. American kestrels, newly fledged.7. Swainson’s thrush.8. Yellow-bellied flycatcher, a lifer.9. Belted kingfisher.10. Long-eared owl.
A few weeks ago, we noticed that there were holes bored into the trunk of the maple tree in our back yard. That has to be the work of woodpeckers, I figured. Some of the holes seemed large enough to swallow any of the downy woodpeckers that visit our suet feeder daily.
The holes also seemed larger than what red-bellied woodpeckers could fashion, unless they worked long and hard. Could it be the work of a pileated woodpecker?
We’ve had those big fellas in our yard two or three times that we’ve observed in the eight plus years we’ve lived here. Friends were visiting at lunch yesterday when I looked out the dining room windows and spotted a pileated woodpecker hammering at the maple tree that holds up one end of our hammock.
Not making the connection to the holes in the tree, I thought only of excusing myself from the table, grabbing my camera and trying to get a few shots of the bird.
The bird flew to another tree, then headed off to our neighbor’s yard. The woodpecker flew back to our maple, pounding on a large side branch. Smaller branches partially obscured the bird on both opportunities, and the only relatively unobstructed shot I got is the one topping this post.
The photo, I discovered, shows the cavity into which the bird’s beak is attacking. I now can state with certainty that a pileated woodpecker, maybe more than one, is the culprit behind the holes.
I gladly accept those cavities and more if they continue attract such a magnificent creature as the pileated woodpecker.
As an aside, I’ve switched from pronouncing pileated as “py-lee-ate-ed” to “pill-ee-ate-ed.” The sources I’ve consulted say you can go either way. The word’s root is the Latin word for the pileus, the red cap given to freed slaves. Thinking back to the eight years of Latin that I studied in high school and college, I decided to go with the short i, just as I would pronounce pileus in Latin. 🦅
Merry Christmas to all! I hope your holiday is a happy one.
After wrapping a few gifts yesterday afternoon, I went to the Mercer Meadows Pole Farm and joined a few other photographers on an owl stakeout. I spent 90 minutes awaiting the arrival of short-eared owls. They didn’t show.
But amusingly, as I was standing in the cold, I noticed a few song sparrows foraging on the ground. One was almost underfoot. I marveled at what either was its fearlessness or its obliviousness to this homo sapiens a yardstick away.
I had to back up a step and pull my Zoom back to its 150mm setting to get the bird wholly in the viewfinder. The sparrow stuck around long enough that I had the presence of mind to shoot a bit of video.
The other photographers seemed to pay the sparrows no heed and they may not even have noticed them. I’m glad I did.
Today, I made a short trip to Veterans Park in Hamilton, where the lake is mostly frozen and snow covered. I saw some gulls and the gaggle of domestic geese who live at the park year-round. The one memorable sight was a bald eagle perched in a tree across the lake. I’m not sure its stern gaze was directed at me. I’ll give the bird the benefit of the doubt. 🦅
While we have yet to experience the packed-parking-lot frenzy of last winter, short-eared owls are back at the Mercer Meadows Pole Farm and starting to show themselves before the sun goes down.
The “shorties” have been in the park for several weeks. Birders have reported seeing them before dawn and after sunset. We’ve been waiting for them to start flying ahead of sunset, and it seems we’re getting to that point.
On Sunday afternoon, I went out to the park about 45 minutes before sunset. I joined about 10 more photographers near the big curve where the paved Lawrence-Hopwell Trail starts its gentle slope up to the woods in the center of the park.
The owl in the field, far off.
One short-eared owl was sitting at the bottom of a spindly tree on the far side of the field that runs between the trail and Cold Soil Road. Other birders noted that the owl had been perched closer to the trail when they arrived around 3:30. A few of them got a good view and presumably some good photos of it.
Around 4:30, the bird took off to our left, sailing and dipping over the field. Eventually it flew back toward and beyond us. In the dwindling light, I was able to capture the shot topping this post. I can’t recall if the owl was landing or taking off.
Meanwhile, two other short-eared owls appeared over the field behind us. At one point, they were high and almost directly overhead when one of them charged the other.
Word will get around that the owls are back. I reckon more people wearing camouflage jackets and bearing long lenses will start showing up. Here’s hoping they behave themselves and stay on the trails.
Rangers are patrolling, and one showed up about 4:45 Sunday evening. A few of us photographers were nearly back to our cars when the ranger started rolling up the trail, telling people the park was closing.
If you’re hoping to see the owls yourself, please know that these magnificent wild creatures have their own schedules that may or may not correspond to yours. Hope you get lucky and come on a day when they come out. And dress for a cold wait.
With the mercury at a frigid 11 degrees Fahrenheit, I scraped the ice off the windshield of our Subaru this morning and drove to the Millstone River Impoundment in Princeton.
The adults are top and bottom, the immature in the middle.
To my delight, a few minutes after I stepped out of my car I spotted three bald eagles circling overhead. Two of them were mature and one was a juvenile, and they chased each other in the sky within easy view as I crossed the footbridge that spans what I believe was once a lock on the Delaware and Raritan Canal.
I was so surprised at the sight that I fumbled with my camera, eventually swinging it up to snap several shots as the birds headed off over Lake Carnegie.
The adults then settled on the opposite side of the lake, perched in a tree. What became of the juvenile, I don’t know. 🦅
The Jersey Birder 