It’s good to be back home and welcoming warblers

With the sun fully out and the temperature a cool 51 degrees, I headed to the Mercer Meadows Pole Farm this morning for my first home outing since returning from Maine.

A bobolink, framed by grasses perches on a branch.
Bobolink

I had checked Birdcast to find that warblers are returning to Mercer County on their fall migration, and I hoped I’d chance upon a few. I stretched my neck muscles, anticipating some upward glances with my binoculars and, if lucky, my camera.

Walking the central path, I spotted a bobolink framed by grasses and heard one more farther up. Reaching the woods, I was ready for warblers.

As I turned toward the AT&T Building One site, I noticed several birders training their binoculars into the trees to the left, an area I call the “warbler wall.” Most springs and falls, that stretch of trees has been a magnet for northbound and southbound travelers.

Four birders looking up into the trees.
Birders facing the “warbler wall.” The AT&T Building One red arches are to the right, just out of the frame.

One of the birders had spotted a Canada warbler, and with a laser pointer she circled the leaves where she believed it was visiting. Some minutes later, she announced it was at the bottom of that tree, and I was able to watch the bird fly off.

We spent about 20 minutes watching the activity in the trees, and there was plenty. At least one black-throated green warbler was zipping about, as were blue-gray gnatcatchers, Eastern pewees, a ruby-throated hummingbird and an American redstart. A Carolina chickadee came by, and a Northern flicker and hairy and downy woodpeckers put in appearances.

I didn’t realize one of the birds I shot was the redstart, a female as I would learn at home when looking at my photos.

A female American redstart, with a gray head and yellow breast, spreads its wings and flies out of a tree.
I didn’t realize what I was shooting was a redstart. I’m glad to have caught her in flight.

While most of the birders moved on, I hung back with one of them and another walked in to join us. We had a nice chat about birding hotspots in New Jersey and Delaware. Suddenly, one of them spotted a red bird on a tree branch. His first thought was Northern cardinal but then blurted out, “scarlet tanager!”

Highlighted by the sun, the bird was a male with dark black wings and scarlet body. But there was a patch of yellow on its flank, signaling the change to winter plumage had begun.

It’s good to be home, and I hope all the southbound travelers make it home, too. 🦅

A little birding in Downeast Maine

My wife and I headed to New England for a few days, with a stop in the Berkshires of Massachusetts on our way to Bar Harbor. On the 1,500-mile roundtrip, I didn’t have a lot of time for birding. But at Acadia National Park, we had some lovely close encounters with ruby-throated hummingbirds, and I added a lifer that had eluded me for years.

Acadia National Park, which spreads over nearly 50,000 acres on Mount Desert Island, is a place of wonder and one I’ve always wanted to visit. We spent the better part of one day there. The drive under the magnificent canopy of trees on the Park Loop road was delightful, and the views down to the shore studded with massive boulders were spectacular.

A hummingbird hovers just above the top of a stalk of cardinal flowers, poised to poke its long beak into one of the blossoms.

The highlight at the park came at the Wild Gardens of Acadia at the Sieur de Monts nature center. The garden has trails sluicing through all sorts of native plants, and we marveled at the variety. When we reached a section with plentiful cardinal flowers, my wife spotted a hummingbird on a tree branch just above me. The bird zipped off before I could swing my camera up, but we figured with all the cardinal flowers nearby, it would come back.

It did, flying in with two others. One of them spent a couple of minutes probing the blossoms on one section of the cardinal flowers, and I had plenty of time to catch some nice shots. A couple of the photos, like the one topping this post, show drops of nectar in the air after the hummer plucked it from a blossom. There’s also a droplet on the lower portion of the bird’s beak.

Then came a surprise. “What’s that bird behind those leaves?” my wife asked, pointing into some ferns. I strained to see what she was seeing through the green leaves, but then I saw it — an American woodcock was preening itself just off the trail about 10 feet from me.

An American woodcock is seen through green leaves, its long beak mostly obscured by a fern frond.
The woodcock plays peekaboo with me from amid the leaves. This shot shows only the back end of its long beak.

A park employee soon came by and told us the woodcock had been hanging around the garden for a few days. I was elated to see the woodcock, as it was a long-awaited lifer for me. I had my 150-600 mm zoom on my camera, and my shot selection was limited. I got peekaboo looks at the bird and I’m happy with my photos.

The only other birding I got to do in Maine was at Hadley Point, near our motel a couple of miles up from Bar Harbor on Highway 3. The tide was out when I arrived around 7 a.m., and all I was able to spot were some herring gulls, double-crested cormorants, a great black-backed gull and a great blue heron. American goldfinches were chirping from the trees on the edge of the beach.

A seagull stands on rocky ground.
An American herring gull stands on ground that was accessible once the tide went out.

All in all, the visit to Maine was thoroughly enjoyable. I want to go back and explore more of the coast and also get inland a bit. If and when I go back to Acadia, I’ll aim to do it off-season. On the day of our visit, Aug. 26, the parking lots and roadside parking spots were jammed to near full. We left the park with much unseen, and that beckons us back. 🦅

The Dinky Line Trail: Gem or joke

While I dearly love the parks and trails I regularly traverse, I am always on the lookout for something new. By fiddling with the explore function in e-Bird yesterday, I clicked a map pin on a nearby trail I never knew existed.

It’s the Dinky Line Trail, a short path near the Princeton Junction train station. That’s where riders on the Northeast corridor transfer to catch the “Dinky,” the two-car, short-line train to the Princeton University campus and the municipality of Princeton.

I had a bit of trouble finding the trailhead, which is behind a couple of glass box office buildings off Alexander Road in West Windsor, roughly across from the Princeton Federal Credit Union. I parked nearby in another lot and entered the trail after half-circling a pond behind another office building closer to the train station.

I followed a narrow path through some woods that was major catbird territory. Eventually I came to a wooden footbridge that revealed a lush marsh studded with reeds. I spotted a great blue heron perching not far away.

A great blue heron perches on a small tree.
The great blue heron perching in the middle of the marsh.

After stopping on the bridge for a while, I continued through the woods and a few minutes later emerged onto a paved path winding its way at the back of a corporate park parking lot. The train line was to the right, up a wooded embankment. I walked maybe a quarter of a mile before deciding to turn back. Few birds were about, and I headed to my car.

My initial thought was the trip was a bust. As short as it was, however, the trail has its charms, including wildflowers. For those with little kids, the trail makes for a great introduction to the natural world. The view from the footbridge was worth the trip, providing a gem of a view of the marsh.

Yes, I’ll be back. 🦅

Some days, one bird is enough

It turned out that I aimed my camera at only one bird today, and it happened early in my walk at the Mercer Meadows Pole Farm. This Cooper’s hawk surprised me when I spotted it roughly 100 feet ahead of me.

The sky was overcast and the sun was muted, but I was able to note the bird’s telltale banded tail. I took a few shots, hoping that I caught a time when the bird — its back to me — turned its head.

I was fortunate to catch moments when it looked side to side. I chanced a few steps to get closer, and the bird few up the trail, eventually to be spooked by a woman coming toward it from the opposite direction.

While red-tailed hawks are the most common at the Pole Farm and in the surrounding area, Cooper’s hawks also appear somewhat regularly. I’ve taken shots of them perched in tree branches. This was the first time I spotted one on the ground and was able to approach fairly close. I’m happy with the results. 🦅

A Cooper's hawk looks back over its right shoulder while standing on a grassy trail. A small green weed is in the background.
The hawk looks back toward me as I snap the shutter of my camera.

The (bird) dog days of summer

We are in the “dog days” of summer. The dog star, Sirius, dips low on the horizon, and our canine companions, sapped by the heat, are low on energy.

For birders, this time of year brings a lull in species sightings. The migrant warblers are in their northern breeding grounds, many weeks off from when southerly instincts stir their souls.

In my part of the world, even the visitors remaining are hard to find. I have not heard a common yellowthroat calling for a week or more, although I did briefly spot two of them this morning at the Pole Farm.

While I regularly heard and spotted indigo buntings a month ago, I’ve been hearing but not seeing them on almost every outing. This morning, I’d heard at least four of them at the Pole Farm before finally spotting one high up in a tree where the woods meet the main meadows. I have paid the bunting the honor of placing the one fair photo I got of it atop this post.

On the trail back to my car, I heard three blue grosbeaks singing. But they refused to show themselves. While other birding friends have gotten photos, I’ve been shut out to the point that I wonder if the grosbeaks are taunting me.

A bit later in the morning, I headed to a driving range in Morrisville, Pennsylvania, to tune up for the nine holes of golf I’m scheduled to play at mid-week. On the way, I took the “Trenton Makes” bridge to make a birding stop at the Morrisville levee along the Delaware River.

I’d been to the levee a couple of times before, never fully comfortable walking along the path atop it. I am, frankly, terrified of heights. The levee slants steeply, and I want no part of tumbling down whatever length it is to the river that George Washington and his troops famously crossed nearby in December 1776.

Standing on the grassy side of the levee toward the town, I swept the river with my binoculars and saw a huge number of gulls sitting on rocks in the water. I heard laughing gulls and took a few photos with my telephoto lens fully extended.

A ring-billed gull soars over the Delaware River while three other gulls, at least one of them a laughing gull, are on a rock in the water.
A ring-billed gull flies over the Delaware River, with at least one laughing gull on a rock below.

I stayed on the levee about 15 minutes before heading down a steep cement stairway to the street below and walking back to my car. Rather than going to the driving range in Morrisville, I headed back over the river and made my way to the driving range closer to home — no heights involved. I leave that to the indigo buntings. 🦅

Praise the light! A nature photographer’s prayer

Photography: n. from the Greek, writing with light. I majored in the classics in college, and I’m familiar with the roots of many common words in the English language.

Anyone who is halfway serious about photography knows that good light makes for good photos. Although it wasn’t quite the “golden hour” before sunset when I stopped at the Reed Bryan Farm early this evening, the light was warm and promising for photos.

I was thinking about that as I walked the trails, lamenting that few birds were out in the 5 o’clock hour. About two dozen barn swallows were swarming overhead, doing touch-and-go’s from the antenna strands on the last remaining pole in the Pole Farm complex. Half as many purple martins gathered in nearby trees, but none of those birds are particularly photogenic, especially when high above me.

I did have one decent subject to shoot. Eureka! A willow flycatcher was perched regally atop a slender branch amid the grasses off the main trail. Until I brought the images up on screen at home, I didn’t realize how magnificent the bird looked in the early evening light.

A willow flycatcher sits in profile on a slender branch with a lush green background.
The top photo cropped.

Because the light was ideal, the green grasses behind the bird formed a lush background, enhancing the photo.

The bird emitted no buzzy call to alert me to its presence, and I’m glad I was able to spot it. Even better, I captured a portrait that I’m happy to share with my readers, to whom I wish good lighting and good writing. 🦅

A rare evening outing, and I see Elvis

Traffic on my drive home from work was remarkably light today, so I grabbed my camera and went to the Pole Farm for a pre-dinner stroll. Under a cloudy sky, few birds were flying, and I was mainly birding by ear.

Making a clockwise loop, I was well down the paved Lawrence-Hopewell Trail when I spotted a black-and-white form atop a green stalk off to my left. A quick check through the binoculars revealed an Eastern kingbird and, for once, it didn’t fly off.

For whatever reason, I always associate kingbirds with the king, Elvis Presley, and I was happy to photograph this bird, even while knowing it would be tough to pull out detail from his black feathers in less-than-ideal light.

I was surprised that even as I moved forward to seek new angles, the bird didn’t seem to notice me and stayed put. Even a passing jogger didn’t spook it. After taking several shots, I moved on.

White-tailed deer stares me down from the grasses.

I spotted a white-tailed deer looking directly at me, and then another kingbird (or at least I assumed so) appeared perched atop a tree. It was trickier to shoot than the first kingbird, and it would be my last photo opportunity on the 45-minute route.

Had I not taken a single photo, the walk would have been worth the fresh air. Encountering a couple of Flying Elvi made the trip even better. 🦅

Braving shoe-sucking mud for photos

The Dyson Tract along the Delaware and Raritan Canal has been drawing lots of birders to check out the little blue herons that have taken up residence for the last week or so. I’d stopped by a few days ago and went back Sunday afternoon.

At this time of year, the trees are thick with leaves, making it harder to see into the swamp. There are only a couple of places affording a clear vantage point, and my first decent views came from a break in the trees along the gravel trail that runs perpendicular to the canal towpath. I spotted a great egret and what I believed were two of the little blues from there, but they were distant.

I had the foresight to bring my monopod to make for steadier shots, and it also served as walking stick. I walked back toward the towpath and spotted some trampled grass leading down to the edge of the swamp. I gave it a try, steadying myself with the monopod and keeping alert for ticks. I reached the edge of the swamp, with spongy black soil below my feet.

The view was worth the mud. I startled a green heron, which flew off one log onto another maybe 50 feet from me. That’s when I made my best shot of the day, the one topping this post.

VIew into swamp, with dead trees poking out of the water, a great egret strutting at the right and two little blue herons farther back on the left.
View from the edge of the swamp, with a great egret at right and two little blue herons farther back at left.

I stayed at the edge of the swamp for about 10 minutes, shooting a pair of egrets relatively near and a couple of the little blue herons farther away. I found my monopod sinking into the mud and decided it was time to head back to firmer ground. As I turned, my left hiking shoe stuck in the muck and nearly came off before I snugged it back on my heel.

Two little blue herons point their beaks while they explore between dead trees in the swamps. Parts of their bodies are in shadow.
Two young little blue herons poke around in the swamp. Their shadows have a blue tinge, foreshadowing their adult coloring.

I decided to take another look from my initial vantage point, and I was rewarded with narrow but good looks at a couple of little blues.

As I was training my camera on the little blues, I was startled when a great blue heron flew in from the left. I didn’t get a clear shot of the big bird landing, but I got a shot showing it standing behind one of the little blue herons. It’s a good indicator of the relative size of the two species.

A great blue heron treads in the swamp water at rear while a little blue heron stands on a fallen log in foreground.
Great blue heron at back, little blue heron in front.

Other birders have reported seeing six little blue herons at the Dyson Tract. I recorded four on e-Bird. It’s possible I got a glimpse of a fifth. I couldn’t see the sixth, which may have flown off or was roosting in a tree.

Regardless, it was a treat to see so many elegant birds in one location and to have survived the mud with both shoes and no ticks attached. 🦅

Sandpipers and killdeers aplenty in Hamilton

After the excitement of seeing a pair of rare sedge wrens, for a change of pace I drove to Veterans Park in Hamilton. The park has a big lake that attracts eagles and waterfowl, and I was eager to spot a few to broaden my species count for the young month.

I walked across the dike, spotting a couple of dozen Canada geese and mallards swimming in the lake plus a few purple martins circling overhead. My objective was to reach the woods along the lake’s edge, where a fellow birder told me I had just missed seeing a bald eagle.

I turned my eyes to the mud bars just off shore and spotted plenty of birds strutting. First to reveal themselves were killdeer, and I was curious to see what other birds were nearby.

A killdeer stands on a log on a mud flat, with two smaller birds in foreground.
A killdeer makes its way along the mud, with a couple of smaller birds in foreground.

I wasn’t sure which were which, but a quick glance at the screen on my camera revealed least and solitary sandpipers (one of the latter tops this post). I had not seen those birds in many months and I was glad to see them again.

As for the eagle, I reckon I’ll spot one again soon. 🦅

Sedge wrens enliven birding in Princeton

It’s always fun when a rare visitor comes to town, and the birding buzz around Princeton the last few days has been about a pair of sedge wrens who have come calling at the Mountain Lakes Preserve.

Reports on the wrens had been coming in from e-Bird, and this morning I decided to take my chances spotting them. Although I’d visited the preserve for a unicycle ride (yes, unicycle!) when I first got to town, I had not been back and had never gone birding there.

From the parking lot, I walked up a trail hoping to get to the Seward Johnson boardwalk. I had a trail map but wasn’t sure I was heading in the right direction. At a trail intersection, a woman walking her dog pointed me properly.

Once on the boardwalk, I saw three birders looking out on the field to the right. They had just gotten good views of both sedge wrens and gave me a few pointers on spotting them. A fourth birder tipped me to where one of them was, and I saw it fly before it plunged into the grasses.

After walking back and forth for a while, I heard the rat-a-tat call of the other wren. Soon, another birder arrived, and she spotted it a few minutes later, tucked into a green-leafed plant. But the bird was barely visible and made a couple of sorties to our right. Eventually it flew back to our left and landed atop another plant, partially obscured.

There was so much green in our field of view that our cameras had difficulty focusing. I took several shots, some of them “blind,” then repositioned myself, hoping for a better angle.

That angle brought me the shot topping this post. Neither it nor the one below (taken a few minutes earlier) is tack sharp, but they leave no doubt of the bird’s identity.

Sedge wren in profile, perched in a field of green and brown grasses.
We got our first good look at the sedge wren when it was about 20 yards off the boardwalk.

I had logged a sedge wren a couple of years ago at the Pole Farm, when I got a fleeting, distant glance at one while in a scrum of birders. This time, I could see the bird — most of it, anyway — through my binoculars. I’m pleased to have gotten a couple of fair photos, too.

I headed home about 8:45 a.m., happy that I’d made a good find. I’d venture out once more into the beautiful day — sunny with a high around 75 — and I’ll report on that outing later. 🦅