The Jersey Birder

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!”

Birds large and small, I like photographing them all

I don’t know what the numbers are, but a high percentage of birders are photographers. And among birding photographers, a certain percentage focus exclusively or primarily on the largest birds, mostly raptors — eagles, hawks and the bigger owls.

I’ve done field studies of a sort, in that I often talk photography with birders I meet on the trail. Several of them have told me they go for the big birds, like the Northern harrier topping this post that I caught in flight this morning at the Mercer Meadows Pole Farm. Getting a shot of fast-flying raptors is a unique challenge, and I suppose it’s not unlike the challenge that big game animals present hunters.

I do enjoy getting photos of the big birds of prey, but I also have a soft spot for getting photos of warblers, sparrows and other “little brown jobs.” Today, I experienced both ends of the bird-size spectrum, getting shots like that of the harrier and one of a savannah sparrow perched in a small tree amid the tall grasses.

One of the great pleasures of the Pole Farm is that it attracts birds of all sizes. It’s not unusual to see dark-eyed juncos in one area and then see a bald eagle soaring overhead, with many mid-size blue jays and cardinals appearing as well.

The one thing I wish the Pole Farm had was a lake large enough to attract waterbirds. We get flyovers of geese and herons, but if the Pole Farm has a flaw, it’s a lack of a sizeable body of water. A small complaint.

For those you photographers who like the big birds, I say, “Have at it.” For those of us photography “omnivores,” I stand and shoot with you. To each our own!

The irony of wildlife photography

“Don’t look back” may be good psychological advice for putting the past behind you, but for wildlife photographers in the field, it’s advice to be ignored.

Shortly after I arrived at the Mercer Meadows Pole Farm yesterday, I looked ahead and saw a photographer I didn’t recognize pointing a camera with a long, tripod-mounted lens into one of the main fields. He must be looking for Northern harriers, I thought, or maybe a late appearing short-eared owl.

With warm, golden light streaming down not long after dawn, conditions were excellent for catching a photo of a bird flying on the western side of the big fields. But that’s not where the action was.

As I continued up the trail, a deer suddenly poked its way through the brush and crossed the path roughly 10 yards behind the photographer. Not noticing the deer, he kept looking westward. Nor did he notice the five deer that followed, each crossing the paved path into the big field to our left.

Suppressing a chuckle, I snapped a couple of frames, including the one topping this post. The photographer never did turn around and see the deer. He moved off to the right and I headed straight, and we weren’t close enough to exchange even a hello.

That little episode of wildlife irony made me wonder how many times the birds and other critters inhabiting the woods have snuck behind me as I’m fixated on a point ahead. Did they suppress a chuckle at my expense?

This episode is a good reminder for us to look up, down and all around as we make our way through the wilds. It also prompts me to salute the wildlife, whose habitat we have relentlessly trampled, for pulling a clever trick on us camera-wielding humans.

Harlequin romance: a rare visitor on the Delaware River

Rarely has a Jersey girl caused such a fuss. Since she was first spotted in the Delaware River on Thursday, a harlequin duck — believed to be the first ever recorded on e-Bird in Mercer Counry — has had birders flocking to observation points on the river banks in Trenton and Morrisville, Pennsylvania.

While I was out for a solo walk this morning at Reed Bryan Farm, my friend Laura texted, asking if I’d like to chase after the harlequin. Laura and I had gone harlequin-chasing two years ago at Barnegat Lighthouse State Park on the New Jersey shore. This was an unusual opportunity to drive only a few miles to see one.

And see one we did. Following locating tips from other birders, we headed south along New Jersey 29 in Trenton, only to overshoot a construction area pulloff and instead end up on a toll bridge that took us over the river into Pennsylvania. Knowing that other birders had spotted Ms. Harlequin from the Morrisville levee, we headed there and immediately spotted several birders up on its walkway.

The first birder we encountered confirmed that the harlequin was present, and he pointed us down the path toward a couple of other birders who he said were at a better vantage point. A short while later, one of those birders pointed exactly to where the bird was floating and diving. He fixed his scope on her so we could get a better look than what our binoculars could give.

We then discussed with the birder whether it was proper to report the bird from the Morrisville hotspot when the bird was far across the river, much closer to New Jersey than Pennsylvania. Laura and I agreed with him that the report should come from the area where the bird was, not where the observers were.

So we walked back to my car and returned to New Jersey, drove North on highway 29 and turned around to find the construction pulloff on the southbound side. We pulled in, and the bird was practically right in front of us, albeit a couple of hundred yards out in the water.

We could see the bird and her markings clearly through Laura’s scope, and I was able to get a few photos to back up the observation. Although we could see a couple hundred gulls across the river, we saw no other birds near the duck. She was floating solo. A few Canada geese were up the path on our side of the river, so we noted them in what turned out to be a mere 2-species e-Bird report.

We had no complaints.

A trip to Trenton on ‘Black Duck Friday’

While many Americans were hitting the mall this morning, my friend Laura and I drove down to the Tulpehaking Nature Center, one of the gateways to Abbot Marshlands. We joined a group of about 10 birders for a “Black Duck Friday” birding walk.

Gathering in the parking lot, we were treated to a through-the-scope view of a peregrine falcon perched atop a power tower in the distance. That was the first of its kind on my life list, a nice start to the outing.

Group leader Tim took the group down a hill toward the marsh, and we turned onto a path pointing us toward Spring Lake. I often visit the lake from the Sewell Avenue entrance to John A. Roebling Park.

The roughly half-mile walk to the lake was surprisingly devoid of ducks but was highlighted by the singing of a winter wren and sightings of couple of golden-crowned kinglets. Our count built slowly, at last kicking into gear when we reached the outskirts of Spring Lake.

On it, we saw dozens of ring-necked ducks (Laura put the official account at 88) and a couple of distant gadwalls. A belted kingfisher and a pair of yellow-bellied sapsuckers appeared nearby.

The trail brought us to the newly resurfaced (and still closed) Roebling Park parking lot. We paused a while there, the highlight being, weirdly, a house sparrow, one that probably was taking a break from the neighborhood adjacent to the park.

We skirted the lot and walked to the marsh that’s separated from Spring Lake by the path that encircles it. I finally had reason to start shooting some photos as a flock of Northern pintails took flight. Also on the water were mallards, green-winged teals and Northern shovelers.

Keeping an eye on the clock, Laura and I walked up the path with the group for a short while before bidding them adieu to walk back to her car. Another yellow-bellied sapsucker appeared on a nearby tree, and I kept shooting until I got a couple of profile shots of it.

On the way back to the parking lot, the section of the marsh that had been bird-barren on our first pass was now teeming with waterfowl. Although I didn’t get any worthwhile photos of them, many American black ducks were plying the waters.

All told, we logged 31 species in the two hours we spent at the marsh — another reason to celebrate on this Thanksgiving weekend.

Happy Thanksgiving to all birders!

It’s Thanksgiving Day here in the United States, and I’m thankful for all the times I get to go birding and for all the other birders I’ve met in the field and those of you have been kind enough to read my site.

I started my day at the Mercer Meadows Pole Farm, and it appears most birds decided to sleep in on such a cold, breezy morning. I took a few distant shots of a Northern harrier that was out by the observation deck.

The harrier perched on a stalk out in the tall grasses, and I watched her from the top deck (see photo above) for a while, hoping in vain she’d take off again. She did not, and I headed back to the car.

The only bird photo that I saved from the 51-minute outing was of a field sparrow, whom I spotted flitting about in some bushes. I wasn’t sure of the ID until I got the image up on screen at home.

Field sparrow stopping just long enough for me to catch a shot.

So another day, another surprise, compliments of Mother Nature.

My Thanksgiving Day was a good one, and I’m looking forward to tomorrow: It’s Black Duck Friday, as a group outing planned in Trenton is being called.

I hope all have had a splendid day and can reflect thankfully on all we are given in life.