The Jersey Birder

A magnificent surprise: a great horned owl

As we headed up the trail this morning at the Mercer Meadows Pole Farm, my friends Jim and Andy and I had no clue of the wonderful surprise awaiting us in the woods.

We were hoping we’d see a few of the warblers that have been trickling into the park this week. The weather was cool and breezy, which was likely responsible for the relatively few birds we saw in the fields as we walked up from the parking lot,

As we entered the woods, we spotted a blue-gray gnatcher and heard a couple of towhees. A little farther ahead, we heard an ovenbird (my first for the year), a couple of Eastern towhees and some white-throated sparrows. A Northern flicker called from far off.

Jim wandered ahead of Andy and me, then suddenly turned around and blurted out excitedly: “Holy sh**! It’s a great-horned owl!”

Great horned owl sitting on a branch. — A photo from our second pass.

Yes, it was. Nestled into a thick branch jutting out from a large tree, the owl was not obvious at first but plain to see once my eyes locked onto it, The owl was probably at least 50 yards away, and we were in no danger of spooking it, even after we pointed our cameras at it.

We admired the bird and our good fortune for five minutes or so, then moved on in search of common yellowthroats and whatever else we might find. We circled back to the owl and took a few more shots before wishing it well and turning toward our cars.

While I had heard great horned owls a few times at home, I had never seen one until today. I’m grateful to the birding gods for giving me such a privilege. 🦅

Great horned owl sitting on a branch in a big tree. — Wider view of the owl in tree.

An unexpected milestone: 1,000 Mercer County checklists

I reached a birding milestone today, submitting my 1,000th e-Bird checklist in Mercer County, New Jersey. By happenstance the day before I discovered I had completed 998 checklists, and I added No. 999 yesterday afternoon with a short visit to Colonial Lake Park in Lawrence Township.

It was an easy decision on where to go for No. 1,000: the Mercer Meadows Pole Farm, where I’ve done nearly the majority of my birding since taking up the hobby — 492 checklists on e-Bird since I filed my first report there Feb. 17, 2019.

American robin in a small tree. — American rovin

I hoped I might find something special today, but I didn’t get anything I hadn’t seen before. But in a sense, all birds I observe are special, be it a common one like the American robin or a seasonal visitor like the Eastern towhee.

Having seen my friend Andy at Colonial Lake yesterday, I knew he would be at the Pole Farm this morning. He arrived shortly after I did, and I missed him waving at me to draw my attention to the American kestrel that’s been perching in a tree next to the Cold Soil Road parking lot.

We saw a couple of kestrels perched on far off bird boxes, and we hoped we might find a yellow warbler as Andy had seen the day before. We had some nice bluebird encounters, and their predominant color seemed a deeper blue today under the overcast sky.

Eastern bluebird perched on a branch — Eastern bluebird

On our way back to our cars, we came upon the delightful birding couple of Old Sam Peabody and Blonde-Crested Warbler, who have taught me much about birding these past few years.

Jim Parris, the top birder at the Pole Farm, was, like the yellow warbler, not to be seen. But as Andy and I returned to our cars another Pole Farm regular, Nancy, was aiming her lens at a hole in the maintenance barn. Kestrels have moved in, and one was peeking out at us.

American kestrel peeking out of the round opening on a barn. — American kestrel in the barn.

Another kestrel, Andy and Nancy alerted me, was perched on a branch of one of the big trees at the trailhead. The light wasn’t great, so my photos aren’t anything special. But outing No. 1,000 at the Pole Farm sure was.

American kestrel perched on a tree branch. — Kestrel perched near the parking lot.

Awaiting the warblers but still having plenty to see

While my social media feeds are awash in warblers, I have been waiting to see them in my neck of the woods. I went to the Mercer Meadows Pole Farm today with high hopes to spot one.

My friend Andy caught up with me shortly after I arrived, and — to relieve you of the suspense — I’ll say right now that we did not see or hear or any warblers. But it was a fine day nonetheless.

I was greeted by an Eastern meadowlark singing from the top of a tree just up from the Cold Soil Road parking lot. The sun was spotlighting the bird, and I was delighted to get clear shots (one tops the post) through the branches, which are beginning to leaf out.

Eastern bluebirds were nearby, and I was pleased to get a couple of clear looks at them.

Eastern bluebird in a tree. — Eastern bluebird

Andy and I staked out a couple of bird boxes that tree swallows call home, and we hoped to capture the iridescent beauties in flight. Andy got a nice one, and I got the fair one below.

We saw a pair of American kestrels on a bird box far across one of the fields, and Andy used his long Nikon 700mm prime lens to get some decent shots, no doubt. I need to be some yards closer before I can get a shot I’m proud to post here.

I spotted a blue-gray gnatcher in a tree near the old AT&T Building One site. The bird was too quick for my shutter finger, but I was still charmed to see it, my first of the year.

White-throated sparrows are still around, and I was fortunate to spot one just after the gnatcatcher flew off.

White-throated sparrow on a tree. — White-throated sparrow.

As we were on our way back down the trail, some passing birders spotted a brown thrasher on the ground. I was happy to get the one sharp shot I got.

All in all, it was a fine outing.

Brown thrasher standing on the ground. — Brown thrasher on the ground.

Waking up to the robins

Well before dawn, the robins in our neighborhood start singing. I don’t think they’re trying to wake me up or spur me to get out of bed, but in whatever message they’re conveying, they are persistent.

This morning, I listened to them for 5 or 10 minutes, and when I heard a cardinal start singing counterpoint in the distance, I decided it was time to rise.

After getting the coffee maker going, I settled into my easy chair that affords me a good view of our backyard feeders. A house sparrow was the first to appear, a little earlier than usual, I thought, figuring the cardinals would come next.

A moment later, a female cardinal appeared on the main feeder, and her mate soon followed, perching atop my smoker. Then, right on cue, a Carolina wren started singing. I couldn’t see the tubby little creature, but I could hear it, its usual outsized volume-to-size ratio readily apparent.

I could also hear some gentle rainfall tinkling on the metal topper on our chimney, a clue that I will have to delay my morning outing until after the showers stop and a reminder that it’s time to close the flue.

Now that the sun is up, I’m waiting for the goldfinches to start flocking to the nyjer feeder. The suet cakes need replacing in the little house that holds them, and I need to refill the main feeder. I don’t want to disappoint the those voracious sparrows or get side eye from the cardinals.

In the middle of the night, a screech owl pays a call

“What bird is that?” The question, posed by my wife, came at about 2:20 a.m.

“What bird?” i asked groggily, awakening from a deep sleep.

“THAT bird,” she said. “Can’t you hear it? It woke me up.”

“No, I can’t.,” I said, glancing at the clock. I took a few seconds to debate whether it was worth getting up to turn on the Merlin app on my iPhone, which was on the charger next to the open window a few feet away in our bedroom.

“Why not?” I said to myself. When I got to the window, I could hear the bird, which was singing distantly in a low, trilling song at steady intervals. It wasn’t the classic hoot of a great-horned owl that we had heard after sunset a few nights prior.

I listened and listened some more, wracking my brain to see if I could dredge up a memory of a song that I was virtually certain I’d never heard before. Is it even a bird? I wondered. I’d heard a fox crying the night before. No, this a bird — a cuckoo, perhaps? No, definitely not. Then I looked down at Merlin on my iPhone, and there was the ID: Eastern screech owl!

Merlin lit up “screech owl” for several series of songs of the owl, the only creature making a sound in the still of night, save for, briefly, a distant emergency vehicle siren in the distance.

As a check on the ID, I switched to the “explore” section of Merlin and went to Eastern screech owl. The first recording of one there was not a great match, but the second* — Song (Northern) — was a near dead ringer.

Excited to add the owl to my life list, I tossed and turned before falling. back to sleep. That I started this post shortly after waking up about four hours later underscores my excitement. I’m also grateful that my wife’s hearing is better than mine!

*(I listened to the recording again just now and grabbed a screen shot, which tops this post. Also, I thought I had recorded a minute or so of the owl’s song on Merlin, but it seems I forgot to save the recording, alas.)

Come a little closer, kestrel

The sun shone bright this morning, and I was optimistic for a trip to the Mercer Meadows Pole Farm. It’s still a bit early for warblers to be passing through, but the Eastern towhees are back and I spotted a couple of brown thrashers earlier in the week.

Today’s highlight was more about encountering my friend Andy than any particular bird. Andy and I hadn’t crossed paths for several weeks, but we arrived at the park within minutes of each other and had a great time catching up as we walked the trails.

We got to observe a bit of drama on the dirt trail that bisects the main Pole Farm fields as you walk up from the Cold Soil Road parking lot. As tree swallows whirled overhead, we spotted a couple of bluebirds perched on tall stalks. A little farther up the trail, we stopped near a couple of bird boxes and watched as a pair of bluebirds tried to fend off swallows threatening to move into their nesting box.

An Eastern bluebird lands on its bird box home, shooing away a tree swallow swooping nearby. — An Eastern bluebird defends his turf to keep a tree swallow away.

We walked a little over half a mile before turning back toward our cars. We could see a pair of kestrels on a bird box off in the distance. They were out of range for my gear, but Andy probably got a few decent shots on his Nikon with a 700mm prime lens and a 1.4x teleconverter.

As we drew closer to the parking lot, I spotted another kestrel on a stalk off the side of the trail. The bird took off and soared high over the field, then hovered in a couple of spots while Andy and I, side by side, blasted away on our cameras.

Those were the closest looks at a kestrel I’ve ever had, and I was pleased with the photo topping this post and the one below. I can’t wait to see the results Andy got, and I hope to find him again soon.

An American kestrel hovers over the Pole Farm.

Springing into Spring

After enduring three dreary days of rain, I was pleased to wake up to a clear sky this morning. Lifting my spirits higher was the sight of an Eastern bluebird perched atop one of our backyard feeders. Although bluebirds are common in parks near home, it’s a rare day when I see one in our yard. I took that as a good sign.

After completing my chores as coffee-wallah for my wife, I drove out to the Mercer Meadows Pole Farm. Within a few minutes, I heard a bird chattering loudly nearby. My first thought was that it was a Northern mockingbird, but in about half a second I realized that it was a brown thrasher.

The thrasher, in a not-quite-sharp photo.

The bird was up in a tree, partly obscured by branches. But there was no mistaking its coloring, size and song. This was my first thrasher sighting of 2024, and I wanted to memorialize it with a photo. I took a few shots, hoping for the best, although I’d later discover that optical stabilization had been switched off on my lens.

I continued walking, hoping a might spot Wilson snipes in an area where another birder had spotted them a few days ago. I walked out to that area, near the observation deck, but only saw a Northern harrier and a good number of robins.

Several white-tailed deer were grazing in the field, and at one point they got spooked and started running. I was able to catch one of them bounding across the field and I was lucky that my shot (which tops this post) was sharp.

Some of the deer hanging out at the Pole Farm this morning.

On my walk back to the car I was in for one more delight — the “twee!” call of an Eastern towhee. I heard the bird — another “FOY 2024” observation — a handful of times but never did spot it.

April is always a month when birding counts start climbing as the migrants begin passing through. I look forward to many encounters with thrashers and towhees in the months ahead.

With Ping-Pong song, field sparrows reveal themselves

When I stepped out of the car at the Pole Farm parking lot, it took only a few moments for the sound to register. There it was, the unmistakeable dropping-Ping-Pong-ball song of the field sparrow.

Field sparrows may actually hang around all year long in this part of the country, but they stop singing sometime in the fall, and I have to wait for them to crank it up again as Spring approaches.

The first field sparrows I heard this year emerged Wednesday morning. I was able to get a peekaboo photo of one of them overhead. Back at the Pole Farm this morning, I heard them again and spotted the one atop this post not far from my parking spot.

The birds in both photos are partially obscured. I look forward to many opportunities for clear shots to come.

Meantime, even if I can’t see them fully, their clear, sweet song tells me that more and more nice days lie ahead.

Field sparrow in tree with red berries. — A field sparrow sits up in a tree, its telltale salmon beak poling out from behind a limb.

A wild duck chase, and an unassisted walk

That grin on my face emerged with that gesture of triumph this morning at the Mercer Meadows Pole Farm, where for the first time in many months I went birding on my own two feet, without a cane.

Since troubles with my knees crossed into acute territory over the summer, I’ve been trying hard to regain my normal gait and wean myself from walking with a cane. This morning was the first time I tried it at the Pole Farm, strolling a little over a mile roundtrip on one of my favorite trails, the one that goes through an alley of trees on the way to an observation deck and the stretch of woods connecting the Pole Farm and Reed Bryan Farm.

I went through the alley and thought about turning around, but the sun was shining and I decided to go a bit farther, setting my sights on edge of the woods another several hundred yards up the trail. I was rewarded with spotting an Eastern meadowlark in one of the fields and getting a fair side view of a Northern flicker, not to mention lots of robins.

An Eastern meadowlark looking to the side in a field. — Eastern meadowlark

Northern flicker, showing a bit of its yellow feathers, perched on tree branch. — Eastern meadowlark

I turned around from there and made my way back to the car, only taking one short break to sit on a bench. I’ll continue to build up my endurance, and I’m hoping warm weather in the spring — plus the allure of migrating warblers — will take me deeper into the trails in the coming months.

Scaup patrol: Round 2

If today’s birding theme was slow and steady, yesterday’s was sprint. My friend Laura texted me once we got a report of a greater scaup — unusual if not rare in these parts — spotted on the Delaware River at an overlook off Interstate 295 at Trenton.

Laura soon drove us to the overlook, and once we parked we saw nothing but wide open water. No sign of a scaup, greater or lesser, not even a single gull overhead in an area where they often swarm. After a few minutes, I spied two common mergansers diving on the far side of the river, and as we drove off I wasn’t sure I should even bother filing an eBird report.

But wait! As we rolled past the overhead pedestrian bridge, through the bare trees Laura spotted birds and stopped the car on the shoulder. Three scaup-like birds — two males and a female — were swimming along with a good number of ring-necked ducks.

We didn’t confirm a scaup ID on scene, and both of us had a lot of things to do so we turned toward home.

When I got my photos up on screen at home, sure enough, the three mystery birds were scaups, but an even tougher question arose: greater or lesser?

Lesser scaup drake swimming in the Delare River, with a tree branch floating behind him. — The best view I had of one of the lesser scaup drakes.

The birders who spotted the greater scaup shared a photo on GroupMe, and after a lot of Googling and cogitating I concluded, somewhat tentatively, that they had indeed spotted a greater scaup while ours were lessers.

This was my second go-round with scaups, and it appears I’ll need to wait until another time to add a greater to my life list.

It took me more than half a year to shed the cane. I’ll take that greater scaup in stride whenever it reveals itself.

In praise of the American tree sparrow

One of the pleasures of birding is when you suddenly realize that the bird you’re seeing isn’t what you thought it was but something surprising. American tree sparrows have that effect on me, and it happened again with my two most recent visits to the Mercer Meadows Pole Farm.

The other day, I spotted a bird above me and couldn’t quite make out what it was. Goldfinch? Sparrow? The light wasn’t great that morning, and after snapping a few photos I wandered off, figuring I’d fix the ID once I got home.

Although you can almost always see or hear song sparrows at the Pole Farm, and Savannah sparrows are around much of the year, American tree sparrows are not spotted nearly as often.

As you have probably already deduced, that mystery bird, when brought up on my laptop screen, turned out to be a tree sparrow. Instant joy, followed by an update to my eBird checklist. One of the photos tops this post.

A song sparrow sings from a branch. — A song sparrow welcomes me to the Pole Farm, or so I believe.

This morning, as I walked up the central path toward the tree line, I didn’t realize I was heading into a sparrow parfait.

First and predictably came the song sparrows, singing in the morning sun.

Fifty or so yards farther, I encountered a trio of Savannah sparrows grazing on the trail and ducking off into the brush.

As I drew closer to the tree line, I looked ahead at another cluster of sparrows on the path. Up went my binoculars and, expecting more Savannahs, I was startled to realize they were American tree sparrows. A wave of pleasure washed over me. I didn’t have to wait for the recognition to come on screen.

One of the birds flew up onto the branches of a small, bare tree, and, thanks to the ample sunlight shining on it, I got a couple of nice shots full of feather detail.

I love the American tree sparrows for their bi-colored beaks and rufous caps, a sporty look that always makes me smile.