The Jersey Birder

The outdoor avian portrait studio

Like life, birds move pretty fast. But every so often they park in place, giving us photographers an opportunity to compose and take their portraits. I had two cracks at it today, this first day of December.

As I was making my way back to my car this morning at the Mercer Meadows Pole Farm, I spotted a blob in a tree at the AT&T historical exhibit. The blob was a bird, a hawk no doubt, but which variety?

As I got closer, it was plain to see from the patterned feathers on its chest that this was a red-shouldered hawk. It was calmly perched, swiveling its head every now and then. Two other photographers were parked nearby. I changed positions a few times, aiming to get a better angle clear of branches and with the bird lit up a bit more by what little sunlight was piercing the clouds.

One of my last shots produced the shot atop this post. It’s cropped from a wider image that shows the bird from the chest up. If birds had yearbook photos, this one might do well for the hawk.

Running an errand in the afternoon, I stopped by the Millstone River Impoundment in Princeton. By then, the sun was plentiful. I counted 30 double-crested cormorants floating in the water, the largest number I’ve ever seen at this spot.

Ring-billed gulls were swarming over the bridges that cross the water and a few were sitting on the sides of one of them. That’s where I found the gull immediately below.

Ring-billed gull in Princeton.

That bird and a couple of others perched nearby flew off once I started walking forward, and I soon spotted a great blue heron just off the bridge. I’m fairly certain it is the same blue heron I’ve seen in that area virtually time I’ve visited. The heron paid me no heed, and I got several nice shots. I chose the one below. With that fabulous chest plumage and the bird’s intent stare down the long beak, I didn’t want to crop any closer.

Great blue heron gazing intently. — Great blue heron, who I’ve decided to call Clyde, after former NBA star Clyde “The Glide” Drexler.

I have no clue whether this heron is male or female, but I’m guessing it’s a male. I thank him and the other birds I saw today for posing in my plein air studio. 🦅

Savannah sparrows speak to me (and I am corrected)

The grasslands in the fields at the Mercer Meadows Pole Farm are prime habitat for Savannah sparrows, and I never tire of taking photos of them. This morning, I found the one topping this post in a tree at the history exhibit for the AT&T radio telephone years that spanned much of the 20th century.

A few days ago, I got what I consider one of my best shots of the species. The light was golden that morning, bringing out the yellow marking just above the bird’s eye. The sunlight warmed the grasses around the bird, too. I thought a vertical crop most effectively displayed it.

A Savannah sparrow clings to a stalk of brown grass. — Savannah sparrow in the tall grass.

I’ve always figured that Savannah sparrows were named for the savannah-like grasslands that they frequent. I typically have kept the “s” in savannah lower case in most of my posts. But there are some cases in which I capitalized that “s,” and not just when beginning a sentence with the word.

This evening, I looked it up. The “s” should be capitalized, because the bird is named for Savannah, Georgia, where it was cataloged years ago. So to those Savannahs to which I referred in the lower case, I apologize.

I saw another Savannah late this afternoon when I went back to the Pole Farm in hopes of spotting a short-eared owl shortly after sunset. I didn’t bother taking my camera, because, owl or no owl, the light would be poor.

To my surprise, a Savannah sparrow flew in front of me shortly after I arrived and briefly foraged on the ground, not far from where I’d photographed the Savannah earlier in the day. I suggested to the little guy or gal to settle down for the night.

Northern harriers (I counted five) were doing their sunset flights for their final mouse morsels of the day. Two other birders with big camera lenses came down the central path about 15 minutes after sunset. A few minutes later, one of them cried out — a short-eared owl was flying not far from us.

The owl disappeared, then a few minutes later turned up across the field, jousting briefly with another shortie. It was a thrill to see them, our first of the season. We watched them intermittently for a few minutes as we made our way to the parking lot.

The owls are relatively rare and dramatic. I revel equally in the sight of the Savannah sparrow — a capital bird, one might say. 🦅

Winter residents return to Trenton

It always seems I’m short on seeing water birds, so this morning I headed to John A. Roebling Park, commonly referred to as Trenton marsh.

The marsh had plenty of activity when I arrived about 7:45 a.m. Canada geese and mallards were plying the water — no surprise — and adjoining Spring Lake was suddenly clear of its summer vegetation. Ring-necked ducks were out there, out of range from my camera, so I concentrated on the marsh.

The Northern pintail I saw take off was a harbinger of more seasonal visitors to come. The main trail has a few cutout paths that bring you to the edge of the marsh, and I quickly spotted a few Northern shovelers, including the one atop this post floating past two mallards. With their oversized bills, shovelers make me think evolution has a sense of humor.

Two Northern pintails swim along the edge of some grasses poking out of the marsh. — Northern pintails float along the marsh.

More pintails appeared as I walked toward the footbridge to take me to onto the island and the back part of the marsh, White-throated sparrows were around me in abundance, and my best photo of the day was of one of them. (You’ll see that one in a later post.)

Male hooded merganser floats away from the photographer. — Mr. Hooded Merganser heads away.

As I reached the back marsh, I was hoping to catch a few teals. That wasn’t to be, but I got another treat instead: four hooded mergansers that skedaddled a hot moment after I started shooting. I got one sharp image of one of the males and a couple of fuzzy shots of females.

I don’t often anthropromorphize birds, but the males remind me of bespoke Pierce Brosnan and the females of the wild-haired Phyllis Diller. In a good way, of course. 🦅

A close encounter with a red-tailed hawk (and more)

My birding buddy Jim and I have walked the trails of the Mercer Meadows Pole Farm many times, but today was the first time we pulled into the parking lot almost simultaneously. Within a few minutes, a rare treat was in store.

We and other regular Pole farmers have been grousing of late about the relative scarcity of birds, but a few sparrows and juncos appeared as we left the parking lot. It was a good omen. We walked a short way up the paved trail when I looked ahead and spotted a red-tailed hawk perched on a sign post.

Jim and I each took a few shots from a distance, crept up a bit and then wondered: will the bird let us pass? As we walked along, the bird seemed unfazed, looking out into the fields and occasionally back toward the two non-avian creatures approaching.

A red-tailed hawk sits atop a sign post, looking slightly away from the photogrpaher. — The hawk was so close, it almost felt as if it were a portrait studio setting. Mr. Red-tailed never did turn directly at me when I was at my closest point to shoot.

Jim and I stayed on the grass just off the path, and at the closest point we were no more than 12 feet from the bird. It remained on that perch, even as a walker a few minutes behind us stopped to pull out a cell phone and take a photo.

As we headed up the center dirt trail, song and savannah sparrows flitted about. Jim said American tree sparrows were back, and seemingly on cue one appeared.

Two purple finches cling to bare branches at the top of a tree. — Two of the purple finches. I focused on the one on the left.

As we entered the woods and turned toward the old AT&T Building One oval, we spotted some birds in trees to our right. I immediately picked out a purple finch, which I could see clearly through my binoculars. Jim pointed out several more, and the little flock soon flew off.

Jim and I milled about for a while, then headed back down toward the parking lot. I found an accommodating savannah sparrow that paused briefly in the grasses for me to take a nice close-up.

Jim hung out a little longer, and I headed off to finish a report of 19 species in an hour and a quarter. The sunlight was gorgeous today, and my photos were the better for it. 🦅

A savannah sparrow sits on a stalk of grass, with a bit of grain in the tip of its beak. — The savannah sparrow, my best (or at least my favorite) shot of the day.

Getting a good look at a long-eared owl

Owls have long fascinated humans, as attested by the ancient Greeks, who linked the birds to the goddess of wisdom, Athena. For those of us living in the modern world, owls remain a symbol of wisdom themselves.

I’ve had few opportunities to gaze into their soulful eyes, and I recently got the opportunity to see a long-eared owl. I won’t specify where or when, following the conventions of e-Bird, which considers the species sensitive and wants to protect the birds from intrusive observation.

A year ago, long-eared owls showed up at a local park, and one day I got the slimmest peek at a portion of the head and torso of one of them nestled in a cedar tree. It was a sighting but from afar through binoculars.

On a recent morning, a encountered a small group of birders loitering near a stand of cedars, and I immediately guessed they were near an owl, as word-of-mouth reports had been circulating.

A birder I’ve seen in passing a few times gestured up into the trees, and I looked for the owl but couldn’t spot it.

With a tug on my camera strap, the other birder whispered for me to crouch and look up. There was the owl, its long ears poking up, sitting about 25 feet high on a branch. Smaller branches defied me, and getting a clear shot with my camera was difficult. But no question, I was getting a true view of a LEO.

I texted my birder friend Laura, and we made plans to visit again the next day. Her husband and their dog came along, and we headed to the site where the owl had been the day before. There it was, in roughly the same spot, slightly more visible this time.

A group of birders and photographers was on scene. One of the shooters was using flash to take photos, and I didn’t have the nerve to scold him for it. Our mere presence stressed the owl, and a flash of light every now and then was obnoxious.

Long-eared owl sitting on a tree branch, its face partially obscured by a smaller branch crossing between its eyes. — The long-eared owl, partially obscured by a branch, stares toward me.

Laura kept her dog at a distance, and we stayed only briefly to observe the owl. I managed to get a few fair shots through the branches, and I’m pleased that I was able to do so.

I hope the other birders had the good sense to wrap up their viewing quickly and leave the owl in peace. That’s the wise way to go. 🦉

Humor and humility: Birding brings both

Besides a sharp eye and patience, a birder needs a sense of humor and a sense of humility. I keep that in mind, particularly with my photography, as I tread the fields and woods on my birding outings.

The photography certainly keeps me humble, as I review my photo cards and see the shots that didn’t quite pan out, like the one of two harriers playfully charging at one another over the fields at the Reed Bryan Farm side of Mercer Meadows late this afternoon.

As for the needed sense of humor, this afternoon’s outing made me chuckle.

The Pole Farm/Reed Bryan acreage has two, two-story observation decks, one each. I usually don’t stop at them because, it seems, I rarely see birds from them.

But today I spotted the two harriers flying near the Reed Bryan observation deck, so I walked up that way, climbed to the upper deck and took a seat. I figured on waiting a bit to see if at least one of them came near.

Sure enough, one of them came flying by, and I started tracking and shooting it. The bird was maybe 50 feet away at its closest point, and I got several almost-sharp shots. But one was sharp, and I am delighted to put it atop this post.

I’m laughing at myself because I got the shot after firmly thinking, “I never get anything good from the observation decks.” And yet I got one of the best harrier shots I’ve taken in a good while.

Go figure! 🦅

The challenge of capturing birds in flight

I’ve had my new camera for a few weeks and I’m starting to get the hang of it. The burst rate for this mirrorless Canon R7 is super fast, and I’m adjusting not only to that but to the advanced autofocus capabilities of the camera.

I have the camera set to focus on the eyes of whatever animals (there’s a people setting, too) that I see through the viewfinder. The camera locks onto a bird in flight, but it will lose the focus, the bird or both as I swing my Sigma lens to keep on target.

On Sunday afternoon, I stashed the R7 in the car as I ran a few errands in town. I stopped by Colonial Lake to see if there might be some waterbirds, and I wasn’t disappointed.

An estimated 100 ring-billed gulls were scattered about the lake, and every minute or so some of them were flying one way or another.

I also heard the chattering of a belted kingfisher and finally spotted it. Typically, kingfishers zoom in on a fish and high-tail it to the opposite side of the lake.

Today, I was lucky. The bird, a female, was nearby and flew out over the lake. To my surprise, she hovered for a few seconds before diving. I had two opportunities to catch her in flight, and I was fortunate to capture a couple of clean images.

Belted kingfisher hovers in the air while acquiring a target below in the lake. — A belted kingfisher hovers above Colonial Lake.

I didn’t get her as she hit the water, so I don’t know if she caught anything. But it was quite a kick to observe her and even more delightful to get a good shot.

After the kingfisher took a break, I practiced tracking some of the gulls in flight.

Ring-billed gull drops its feet as it lowers itself to land on the lake. — Note the gull’s feet as it prepares to land on the lake.. In the photo at the top of this post, the same bird has its feet tucked in before beginning its descent.

While I had plenty of misses, several images were sharp, and I’m growing in confidence in my ability to take advantage of the R7’s autofocus capabilities. I note also that I had plenty of sunlight this afternoon, which aided tracking of the birds. 🦅

A short walk for a big bird

Most days, I go out to the birds. Some days, they come to me.

Today was a case in point. Once the sun came up, I noticed that the tube feeder outside our dining room windows was empty. A Northern cardinal perched there briefly and looked around, seemingly puzzled that his breakfast had not been set before him.

Still in my bathrobe, I slipped on a pair of shoes and headed outside to refill the feeder. When I finished, I looked up and saw a big blob of a bird in the locust tree that anchors the back corner of our lot. The bird was a hawk, and I was pretty sure it was a red-tailed.

I slipped inside, turned on my camera and went out again. The sun was slanting in from the east, so I slowly circled out onto the 12th tee of the golf course that adjoins our property. With the bird getting a bit of sun on its belly-band, the ID was confirmed: red-tailed hawk.

I fired away for a minute or so before bidding the hawk a good day. 🦅

Red-tailed hawk gazes down from a tree limb. — The hawk takes a look at me and decides he’d rather go after a squirrel. I am grateful.

Awesome: Harriers in aerial maneuvers by the setting sun

What inspired man to take flight? I had a flash of inspiration this afternoon while watching two Northern harriers joust in the golden light of the setting sun at the Mercer Meadows Pole Farm.

Watching two female Northern harriers playing on the steady breeze over the main fields brought to mind Icarus, who in Greek mythology strapped on wax wings and took to the sky.

Icarus flew too high, and the sun melted his wings, sending him to his doom. The harriers today were not beset by such. They soared and dove, twisting around one another every few minutes as I watched in awe.

I had my camera trained on them for much of the time, most of it with them flying at a distance that outstripped my ability to get a crisp, well-lit shot. But I did manage to get a few shots of the two of them in one frame. At one point, they circled above me, but for most of my half-hour visit they flew in the distance.

Two Norrhern harriers fly in close proximity to one another. — Two female harriers fly overhead.

Three other harriers were dashing about, including a “gray ghost.” I managed one mediocre shot of him, but there was no doubting that I’d ID’d the male of the species.

The harriers were the only birds I spotted. Every other critter was hunkered down, as far as I could tell. But no matter — watching the harriers at play was worth the time. I took away a few mediocre photos and stirring memories. 🦅

Northern harrier turns in the sky. — Not great, but the best I could get in the diminishing sunlight.

Eastern drought seems bad for birds

Although we had some rain overnight Sunday into Monday, we’ve had an extended drought here in the New York-Philadelphia region. Wildfires are burning here and there at a time of year when they shouldn’t be a concern.

Not a puddle is to be had at the Mercer Meadows Pole Farm or many of my other birding haunts in and around Princeton. In the Dyson Tract along the Delaware and Raritan canal, the marsh that should be luring mallards and gadwalls back for the cold months is stunningly dry.

Fortunately, there’s Abbott Marsh on the Trenton-Hamilton border. I drove down there over the weekend and was able to spot and photograph a good number of mallards and Northern pintails, such as the one floating atop this post.

Three Canada geese standing in shallow water. — Drought or no, Canada geese are always with us. Here are three in Trenton marsh, where the water level is noticeably lower than it should be.

For a change of pace, I headed on Sunday morning to the Van Nest wildlife reserve, which is tucked in behind the dam that created Mercer Lake at Mercer County Park. I didn’t spot any waterfowl in the streams that run through the heavily wooded refuge, but white-throated sparrows were singing all around me and what may have been three pileated woodpeckers were chattering away.

On my way back to my car, a ~~swamp~~ fox sparrow perched just ahead of me and gave me an opportunity to take its portrait. [Editor’s note: My friend Mark just tipped me that I misidentified the bird below as a swamp sparrow when, in fact, it was a fox sparrow. That information blows up this next, concluding paragraph, but I’d rather be accurate than clever.]

While swamps themselves are suffering these days, it’s good to know that swamp sparrows are hanging around, hoping just as we humans are for a good drenching or two to chase away the drought. 🦅