The Jersey Birder

Chasing the rarest of Jersey birds: the red-flanked bluetail

On this last day of holiday break, I could not resist the siren song of the red-flanked bluetail, a Eurasian native that has, curiously, been hanging out in a residential neighborhood in South Jersey since early December. It’s the first bird of its kind to be reported in the Eastern states.

My friend Laura texted me this morning to ask if I wanted to go birding. The answer, unhesitatingly, was “yes.”

Laura asked if we should take a shot at finding the red-flanked bluetail about 40 miles from our homes. Why not? How many chances in life will we get to find a bird in New Jersey that is visiting from its normal range between Japan and Finland?

Laura drove us down to Whiting, New Jersey, where we joined a scrum of a dozen other birders standing, squatting and sitting in the side yard of a duplex in a residential development in Ocean County.

We waited about 15 minutes before the bird popped out of the holly and onto a low branch at the edge of the backyard. I squeezed off a few hectic frames, and I submit the better of two fuzzy images herein.

The bird returned to the holly and emerged a short time later to land briefly on the ground. I whiffed on that photo opp, but I was later able to spot the bird through a scope trained on her by a kind fellow birder.

Why the wayward bluetail chose this particular yard about 30 miles inland from the Atlantic coast is a mystery. The bird must have sensed that the residents of the house were bird-friendly. They have several bird feeders and a seed bell hanging from a small tree beside the house, which you can see in the photo topping this post.

Their instructions, posted on their patio, were clear: don’t go past the feeders. The stakeout crowd respected that limit, keeping about 20 feet away from the holly tree in which the bird has been living.

Laura spotted the bluetail through her binoculars and patiently talked me through finding her deep in the holly.

After half an hour or so, Laura and I headed back north, hoping to find another rarity: a black-headed gull that has been palling around with the geese at the Mercer Corporate Park in Allentown, New Jersey.

The lakes there were hosting hundreds of Canada geese plus hooded mergansers and American wigeons. No sign of the rare gull — like the bluetail miles from its normal range — but we did not complain.

We’d seen the bluetail, possibly the only chance we’ll ever have to see one. We were happy.

Birding 2024: What lies ahead?

Happy New Year, everyone! I started the year with a good walk at the Mercer Meadows Pole Farm (above), excited to begin another year of birding adventures.

The first birds I heard were, predictably, European starlings screeching from the trees across from the entrance to the park. Then a chatty American crow started squawking from another tree just beyond the park’s border.

Turning my gaze and attention to the trail ahead, I was soon greeted by a Northern harrier squeaking from atop a post to my right. She was my first official photo capture for 2024, and she gave several fly-by passes for a few minutes. There was little sunlight slanting through the clouds, so the light was not ideal for a crisp in-flight shot. But I am grateful to have gotten this next photo.

A Northern harrier flies above me Jan. 1, 2024.

Eastern bluebirds came out in force once I reached the tree line on the central path, and there were even more as I looped back to the parking lot on the paved Lawrence-Hopewell Trail portion of the park. It’s always good to see them (and other regulars at the park, like the downy woodpecker and savannah sparrow).

By the end of this year, my goal is to be able to say I’ve gone birding in all 21 counties in New Jersey. I’ve done 10 to date, so I have 11 to go, eight of them in the upper third of the state. I’ll be migrating north several times, as well as making a few forays to the south.

Trips west to visit family are in the offing, so I hope to chalk up a few more counties (and lifers) that way. Whether you’re birding at home, abroad or somewhere in between, may 2024 bring you good luck and joy.

2023 in review: counting birds, blessings and friends

As 2023 fades into history, I am reflecting on what this odd, odd-numbered year has meant to me. Most of all, I am grateful for the friends I’ve encountered in my birding excursions.

They include my steady friends, Jim and Andy, regulars at the Mercer Meadows Pole Farm, who share their joy in spotting birds and getting their photographs, overcoming the vagaries of weather and sunlight winter, spring, summer and fall. Andy supplied the photo topping the post, a Northern harrier sweeping across the trail as I, slightly blurry at back left, trudge along with my cane.

The pseudononymous Old Sam Peabody and Blonde-Crested Warbler are always a pleasure to see, no matter where we happen to converge.

Other friends include the Mikes (two with dogs) and Ginger and Nancy, whom I see periodically and with whom we trade hopeful notes on where to spot this or that species that catches our fancy.

And they include Jeanne and her friend whose name I did not get, visitors from Long Island stopping by the Pole Farm today in hopes of spotting the elusive owls that pay us a call seasonally, although not daily, at least not every time we’re we’re stalking the trails.

They include new friends, like Julia, a visitor from Canada, an “accidental” birder whose visit was a highlight of my year. I’ve made new online friends, too, via WordPress and social media, whom I hope to meet in real life in due time.

I cannot omit the Lauras, one Princeton University colleague who is my best birding buddy and another Laura, also a Princeton colleague, with whom I’ve walked a few trails this year. Nor can I leave out faithful email correspondent Sheila, whose missives never leave me short on joy.

Due to an illness that grounded me for more than two months, my yearly totals of species spotted did not quite match that of 2022. But I still had an enriching year, part of it spent in the easy chair at home, looking out the back windows at our feeders.

Despite the setbacks, I added 14 birds to my life list, many of them from highly satisfying chases with Laura as we tracked down a rare Harris’s sparrow and a not-so-rare but nemesis cackling goose.

To my friends, old and new, I thank you for making my birding adventures so pleasurable, and I wish you all the best, in birding and in life, in the coming year.

A yellow-shafted Northern flicker perches on a tree branch. — Northern flicker, April 2, one or my favorite images of 2023.

More owls and an impressive murmuration

Back to the Pole Farm I went this afternoon, hoping to see more short-eared owls and Northern harriers flash about as the sun set. The cloud cover was heavy and the light low, not ideal for photography. Nonetheless, the Cold Soil Road parking lot was packed again (a sure sign of owl fever) as I pulled in just before 4 p.m. I had to improvise a spot on the edge of the lot.

First to appear were the Northern harriers, including two “gray ghost” males, giving me the best looks at them in a long while, even as they were flying back by the observation deck. Eventually, around 4:30 p.m., a couple of shorties emerged, darting among the harriers high in the sky, well out of the range of my camera. But I got some good views through my binoculars.

Several photographers bailed as the light dimmed, but a couple of us stayed planted. We were rewarded with views of owls and harriers that flew closer to us.

I don’t have any photos of them worth sharing, so I decided instead to top this post with a shot of the center of an impressive murmuration of hundreds of birds that flew in the distance, roughly following Keefe Road. It’s impossible to get proper IDs, but starlings, grackles and red-winged blackbirds were likely in the mix. I’d seen at least two other big flocks at the park in the last week, but this one was the largest.

While we birders spend most of our time trained on single specimens, it’s also a thrill to zoom out and get the wide view of hundreds of birds in a flock flying en masse.

Owls in action at the Pole Farm

On this Winter Solstice, I felt an obligation to do some birding at my favorite spot, the Mercer Meadows Pole Farm. It’s prime season for short-eared owls there, and I hoped I’d get a chance to see a few of them flying around sunset.

The birding gods were kind. On this, the shortest day of the year, three short-eared owls came out of the fields and put on an entertaining aerial display around 4:20 p.m., about 15 minutes ahead of sunset.

A crowd of photographers was already staking out positions along the central trail as I pulled into the Cold Soil Road parking lot shortly after 4. Every slot was taken, and I had to invent a spot near the maintenance barn.

As I walked up the trial, a Northern harrier landed on a bird box off the center trail, generating a lot of camera clicks from a cluster of photographers. Farther up the trail was an even larger gang of photographers, as seen in the photo atop this post.

A short-eared owl, flying with wings spread in a "V." — A short-eared owl flies overhead, with the about-to-set sun illuminating its face.

I soon spotted my friend Andy, one of the Pole Farm regulars and a terrific photographer who’s become a good friend. He and I stayed with the smaller group of shooters halfway up the trail, and it was a lucky choice. A short while later, ace birder Fairfax came up the path and was the first to spot a “shortie” flying at the far edge of the field to the north.

I can’t remember the sequence of things, but suddenly two shorties came flying at us, and we pulled our cameras up to catch the action. The owls passed over to the field to the west and started circling. A Northern harrier appeared and began harassing the owls, who were then joined by a third owl.

A Northern harrier pursues a short-eared owl. — Northern harrier (left) pursues a short-eared owl

The harrier buggered off at some point, leaving the three owls to thrash about. One of the other photographers reported that one of the owls had a vole in its claws, which explained why the owls were doing what appeared to be aerial combat.

By this time, the sun was slipping below the tree line, and photo possibilities dwindled. Andy was frustrated that he didn’t seem to have any decent shots, although he got a good one of that first harrier taking off. I had only glanced at a few of my early frames and figured I might have one or two fair shots.

And that’s what I had.

A short-eared owl flying. — The best of the bunch of photos I shot.

Nothing beats getting close to the birds with a zoom lens

I debate myself on whether I more enjoy birding itself or my photography while doing so. I’ve come to realize that for me, those two aspects are the yin and yang of my excursions.

My enjoyment of birding increased considerably once I locked my Sigma 150-600 mm Contemporary zoom lens onto my Canon SL2 camera. It brought me so much closer to the birds, a huge help in making in-the-field identifications of species. I revisit the joy of the day’s birding experiences when I return home and pull up the images on my computer screen.

This morning, I photographed exactly one bird: the pileated woodpecker that tops this post. I heard it hammering along the blue trail at the Charles Rogers Preserve in Princeton. I took photos of the woodpecker from one side of a tree and then walked past it to shoot from the other side. The bird seemed unconcerned that I was nearby, likely because he’d found what he was looking for in a cavity in the tree.

On Saturday, I drove to the Dyson Tract area along the Delaware & Raritan Canal. Once I parked, I immediately spotted a red-tailed hawk perched in a tree at the edge of the lot. The sun was shining brightly, and I was able to get off several shots, one of which resulted in a tight headshot that I would never have been able to get without the zoom lens.

Red-tailed hawk head shot. — Red-tailed hawk, up close and personal.

Earlier in the week, I was lucky to spot a Northern harrier perched on a bird box relatively close to one of the main trails. She was turning her head back and forth, and my best shot was one of her seemingly staring directly at me.

Northern harrier perched atop a wooden bird box. — Northern harrier at the Mercer Meadows Pole Farm.

The unseasonably warm and sunny weather we’ve had recently is about to end, as a rainstorm coming up the East Coast is supposed to start dumping on us any hour now and last into the morning. I doubt I’ll be able to get out then before work, but at least I have these recent images to remind me how much I love birding and photography. As with one’s children, it’s impossible to pick a favorite.

Camera surprise: It’s a bald eagle!

On a walk when I found few birds other than Canada Geese, I took just six photos this morning, one of which I trashed in the camera on site.

When I got home, I almost didn’t bother to check the card because the pickings at the Millstone River Impoundment in Princeton were so slim. I had forgotten that I took two “who knows?” shots of a bird flying above the lake that’s closest to the exit off U.S. 1 that leads to the park.

Bald eagle soaring. — Bald eagle on high.

The bird was far off, and I didn’t think much about the ID, figuring it was probably just another gull and that Merlin might be able to sort it out later.

But the memory card proved otherwise: it was a bald eagle, its white head and wingtips unmistakable. The photos are noisy and grainy, and I’m only including the better of the two to prove my point.

Bald eagles are fairly common in the Delaware River Valley, and they will sometimes swoop over the Princeton University campus, just a couple of miles south of the impoundment.

Even though this wasn’t a rare sighting, it was a surprise, and I’ll happily take that any day of the year. 🦅

Getting a glimpse of long-eared owls

It has taken a few years, but I’m finally getting to log owls onto my life list. This morning, I added three long-eared owls, thanks to the kindness (and high-tech equipment) of birders I encountered at the Mercer Meadows Pole Farm.

I managed a two-mile loop on one of my favorite trail circuits, and I was about two-thirds of the way through when I spotted a gaggle of birders some yards ahead of me. One of the friendly birders with whom I’d watched the short-eared owls and harriers whizzing around yesterday spotted me and came forward, confirming my suspicion that long-eared owls had attracted the cluster of birders.

Owls are notoriously difficult to find, and in this case the sightings were technology assisted. One of the birders had used a heat sensor to find at least one of the owls.

I didn’t count the number of birders, but from memory I’d say it was roughly 10, counting myself. We kept a respectful distance from the edge of the woods in which the birds were perched.

With excellent, patient instructions and overcoming fogging glasses, I at last spotted one of the owls and then the other two. The morning started with fog, and it grew thicker as we peered into the woods for the owls. (The photo up top of a Northern harrier will give you a sense of how fuzzy the views were.)

I could see the shapes of the owls and got a fair reckoning of the coloring of their feathers, but I could not make out their faces. Birders with better looks reported the owls twitching and opening their eyes, and I made only a half-hearted attempt to take photos.

That’s OK. My priorities are sighting first, photos second. Seeing is privilege enough.

My kingdom for a cackling goose

Our wild goose chase finally came to an end today. My friend Laura and I have been obsessed with finding a cackling goose to add to our life lists. We’ve been scanning huge flocks of Canada geese to find a ride-along cackling goose, with its smaller body, stubby beak, shorter neck and lighter back.

Everywhere we’ve looked — including craning our necks above us as flocks of Canadas wedge their way overhead — we’ve whiffed on spotting a cackling goose. Veterans Park in Hamilton and Mercer Corporate Park in Robbinsville were our two most likely places to find them, but we’d struck out repeatedly.

Recent reports from the corporate park were promising, and Laura suggested that we cut out of work a bit early this afternoon to go chasing. We got to the corporate park about 3:30 p.m., initially deflated not to see any geese on the roadside lake as we approached the entrance. But as we turned in to the entrance, our hearts rose as we saw several birders, some with scopes, standing on the shore.

Within a few seconds, we saw that hundreds of birds were lining the shore. Maybe, possibly, we’d spot our first cackler!

We parked at the front of a line of cars and encountered several 20-something New Yorkers clustered around a scope. Not waiting on formalities, Laura announced that we were hoping to spot a cackling goose.

There’s one out there, the young men said, and you’re in luck: there’s a greater white-fronted goose as well!

One of the men invited us to peer into his scope, which he had trained on the cackling goose, feeding next to a couple of Canada geese. Mission accomplished!

Then we were pointed to a snow goose nestled into the grass, and to its right the greater white-fronted goose. At first, it had its beak tucked in, but soon we were able to see its white face and orange beak through the scope and with our binoculars.

I took several photos, hoping that one might do justice to these tough-to-spot birds. The distance proved too much for good images, but the sighting was what was important.

We made a quick stop nearby at Indian Lake, spotting a belted kingfisher and five female hooded mergansers along with some mallards.

After that, we had ample time to head to the Mercer Meadows Pole Farm near our homes, arriving just ahead of sunset — prime short-eared owl time. We were in for another treat.

We caught up with several other birders on the central trail, including the Pole Farm’s all-time leader, Jim Parris. Northern harriers, including the male “gray ghost,” were flying vigorously off to the west, in front of the setting sun.

Eventually, the short-eared owls emerged from the shadows. Four of them put on quite a show, wheeling over the fields. A couple of times, the owls flew close enough to us that we could hear them calling. Another first!

The light was fine for observing but poor for photos. The best shot I could get, and I use that adjective laughingly, tops this post. No matter. We saw some aerial ballet from the owls and enjoyed the spectacle with several other birders.

What a great day it was, a fine reminder of how privileged we are to have nearby windows into so many of nature’s wondrous creatures.

Can my Philadelpia Eagles cap help me find more birds?

It’s a bit of a joke, but when I’m out birding I often wear my Philadelphia Eagles cap with a vague notion in my head that it will bring out more birds, maybe even induce a bald eagle to fly by. A silly notion, yes, but I’ll seek any advantage I can to bring more of our feathered friends into view.

I didn’t see any eagles this morning, but I had a nice walk with a new friend along one of my typical routes through the fields of the Mercer Meadows Pole Farm.

Another birder spotted my Eagles cap as we emerged from our vehicles nearly simultaneously about 7:30 a.m. We struck up a conversation. Jay was making his first to the Pole Farm, and I was happy to give him a few pointers on what to find where.

We started up the path together, immediately spotting a red-shouldered hawk in a tree above us. I’m reasonably sure was the same bird I’ve been seeing in trees near the Cold Soil Road parking lot for the past week or two.

Next, as if one cue, three Northern harriers came out, swooping over the big field to the right of the central dirt path. Jay and I ended up walking together for nearly an hour, trading notes on birds and careers and family — one of the kinds of unexpected conversations I enjoy when I encounter another birder on the trails.

We walked a big loop back toward the parking lot as I was preparing to return to my car and Jay to keep exploring on an adjoining path. The red-shouldered hawk flew toward us and landed in a tree across the trail from the park’s rest rooms. I was able to get a nice shot of the bird spreading its wings.

A red-shouldered hawk spreads its wings. I forget whether it was landing or about to take off.

A few minutes later, Jay spotted a bird in the tall grasses to our right. I guessed it was a savannah sparrow, a common site in that area of the park. But I was surprised and pleased in checking my camera to find that it was an American tree sparrow, one of my favorite birds and one I had not seen in many months. That’s the bird atop this post.

My friend Andy, another daily birder at Mercer Meadows, arrived and showed me a few photos he’d taken in recent days. Jay continued his walk, and Andy and I went back to our cars together, wrapping up an outing that was as enjoyable for the company as it was for the birds we observed.

As we Eagles fans say, “Go birds!”