It’s groundhog day at our place

Living on the edge of a golf course, we see a daily parade of birds and other critters, more than we would if we had a row of houses behind our lot. Among those critters are groundhogs, and they entertain us as they comb the ground for good things to eat.

Groundhogs are surprisingly fast, their land beaver bodies bolting across yards and fairways near our home. In a sprint, they’d give squirrels a good challenge, although they don’t seem built for anything beyond a 100-meter dash.

This is prime groundhog time, as these cousins of Punxsutawney Phil are long removed from hibernation and bringing their young ones out into the world. The groundhog atop this post has been hanging around the edge of our yard the past several days.

We have dubbed this presumed male of the species Alejandro and we call presumed females Esperanza, inspired by characters in the Antonio Banderas movie “Mask of Zorro.” (I know, I know. Zorro means fox. More on foxes later.)

We saw a mother leading a few babies along our property line the other day. I didn’t have my camera at the ready, so I’m offering a shot I took a couple of years ago.

A mother groundhog and three pups look ahead from the grass.
Mamma (we presume) and babies on an outing in our yard.

We’re glad these animals are thriving. We’re also grateful that none of them ever invaded our garden patch, which we paved over this spring in favor of raised plant beds. We hope that the groundhogs (or woodchucks, as they are known elsewhere) remain plentiful. That assures a good balance of nature in our environs and brightens our days with rodential antics. 🦅

A couple of yellowthroats. But are they a couple?

One of the joys of birding in my area is hearing and seeing common yellowthroats. My sightings of the males vastly outnumbered those of the females, and days when I get photos of both sexes are rare.

I’ve given the female yellowthroat top billing on this post. I spotted her amid the tall grasses near the observation deck on the Reed-Bryan Farm side of Mercer Meadows on Wednesday morning. Close by was a male yellowthroat, and I wondered if they were mates.

I’ll never know. I imagine they are doing their best to propagate their species, and I salute them for it. 🦅

Male common yellowthroat with an insect squished in its beak.
Male common yellowthroat with a bug squished in its beak.

I like small birds and I cannot lie

Get a good look at the willow flycatcher topping this post. What a sweet bird! He or she was flitting about the grasses on the Reed Bryan section of Mercer Meadows this morning. The bird paused between sorties for bugs to afford me a chance to catch its portrait.

I am smitten by these wee creatures with their buzzy calls. As with many birds, you hear them many more times than you see them. This time of year, I hear willow flycatchers most days at the Mercer Meadows Pole Farm. Occasionally, I’ll see one.

I hear and see fewer of them on the Reed Bryan side of the park, which makes this photo extra special to me. I hope you feel at least a smidge of the joy I feel from it. 🦅

Another yellow warbler brightens a gray day

For the past few years, yellow warblers have made a home in a group of trees about 100 yards up from the Cold Soil Road parking lot at the Mercer Meadows Pole Farm. From their arrival during Spring migration until their departure in Fall, I can count on hearing one of them in this same spot virtually every morning I visit the park.

Most often, though, they’re obscured by the leaves of the trees. If I’m lucky, sometimes they pop into view. I got lucky Friday.

A yellow warbler was singing repeatedly as I turned onto the path through the alley of trees. The bird was so close that I thought it was worth waiting a few minutes in the hope of spotting it.

Soon, under a heavy overcast gray sky, the bird emerged, clinging to a vertical branch sticking up from the top of one of the trees. The bird was backlit and appeared nearly black through my viewfinder. I took several shots, figuring that my Adobe Lightroom software would be able to bring up the yellow.

Indeed, Lightroom came through, as you can see from the photo topping this post. As I’ve noted here before, my photographic approach is journalistic, hoping to replicate through my photos what I saw in real life. That’s appropriate for car wrecks and other spot photos for a news organization, but over time I’ve come to rely more on editing software to bring out the highlights of birds and other critters that I encounter, especially when lighting conditions are unforgiving in the field.

Amidst a period of dreary weather, I consider that yellow warbler’s appearance a gift, one I’m happy to share with my readers.

As a side note, I’ve discovered that the people who follow my Bluesky social media account respond very well to my bird photos. It’s not a surprise that the prettier the bird, the greater the reaction. 🦅

A lesson in allofeeding

While doing my morning reading from my easy chair Wednesday, I looked up to see a pair of house sparrows perched on a plant hanger propped against one of our dining room windows.

One bird was feeding the other, zipping back and forth to the nearby tube feeder while the other stayed put. The birds happened to be perched near an orchid that is blooming on the window sill.

I watched this feeding ritual for several minutes, figuring that a male was feeding a female mate or potential mate. I also thought I ought to fetch my camera from the back room and get a photo framing the birds under the orchid blossoms.

I was able to take several shots, then moved to get a different vantage point. But the birds flew off. Having to get ready for work, I put the camera aside and decided to hold off on getting the images into my computer.

That I did this morning, and I was surprised to find that what I had observed was not a male feeding a female but a female feeding a young bird. The size differential is clear in the photo topping this post, and the larger bird on the right is female.

I hadn’t noticed those details when looking at and photographing them.

Their behavior did lead me to look up birds feeding birds on Google. I found several references to what’s called allofeeding, and this description on Wikipedia seemed to sum things up well.

Lunch al fresco, with a birdsong soundtrack

With a pair of off-campus meetings bookending the lunch hour yesterday, I stopped at the Charles Rogers Nature Preserve in between appointments to have lunch with the birds.

I parked near the main observation platform overlooking a large pond that at this time of year is covered almost completely in rushes and reeds. As I stepped out of the car, I could hear a Baltimore oriole singing nearby.

I took the steps up to the platform and sat on a small, triangular bench in one of the corners. My view tops this post, an unusual one in that I won’t include a photo of any birds or other critters.

Although I had my binoculars with me, I didn’t have my camera. I took one photo from my iPhone, the one topping this post that shows my view into the trees on the other side of the access road from the pond.

This turned out to be an almost exclusively aural outing, as I spent most of my time sitting and walked only a short distance.

What a joyful time it was. That Baltimore oriole kept singing for many minutes, after which a rose-breasted grosbeak took over on lead vocals. Both birds struck me as jazz singers, the Baltimore with its staggered whistling and the grosbeak with its near frantic, snazzy pace.

Purple martins squawked as they circled the pond, and red-winged blackbirds shouted their raucous cries. In between, song sparrows and Northern cardinals sang prettily.

Using the Merlin app on my iPhone, I recorded several stretches of birdsong. Alas, I only saved one, a jumble of noise not worth sharing here. Sorry I have nothing to share, but I do recommend doing an occasional “ears only” birding outing. It beats eating lunch at your desk. 🦅

A yellow warbler plays coy

Having missed the prothonotary warbler Sunday, I took a quick trip to the Dyson Tract this morning hoping to spot it. Again, however, a yellow warbler stole the show.

As I stood facing the swamp from the canal towpath, a yellow warbler flew down into some leaves clustered around the bottom of a telephone pole. I trained my camera there, hoping the bird would pop up.

A few moments later, the bird reappeared, poking itself up from the leaves. My favorite image, with the bird cocking its head, tops this post.

The bird then flew up into a tree on the edge of the swamp, perching in the sun and allowing me time to get a few more shots. It’s truly a beautiful specimen.

Yellow warbler perched atop a bare tree branch.
Sitting up high for me.

Eventually, the bird flew off, and I had the good fortune to catch that takeoff.

The yellow warbler heads skyward.

I looked at my watch and decided to stay a few more minutes, in hopes of catching the prothonotary warbler singing continuously from the swamp.

After a few minutes of scanning the bare trees studding the swamp, I spotted a blob of bright yellow near the top of one of the trees in the distance. A quick look through my binoculars confirmed I was seeing the prothonotary, although it was partially obscured. I pointed my camera and hoped for the best.

Although not a clear shot, I was happy to get this, the best of the images I was able to take. It doesn’t do the bird full justice. I might go back tomorrow and aim for something better. 🦅

Prothonotary warbler perched on a tree branch, partially obscured by between bird and photographer's line of vision.
Prothonotary warbler in profile.

In search of yellow birds, with bald eagles as a bonus

For weeks, I’ve been hearing yellow warblers on my birding jaunts but until this morning I hadn’t seen one. For days, I’ve been seeing reports of a prothonotary warbler nearby, and I hoped I might spot it today on my first attempt.

I went to the Dyson Tract along the Delaware and Raritan Canal with the prothonotary as my target. As soon as I stepped out of my car, Merlin picked up the bird’s wispy song. Gazing out into the swamp, I checked every tree within sight. But the warbler, which I kept hearing as I walked the permiter of the swamp, eluded me.

Birds abounded on my walk, and I logged 29 species on e-Bird. I headed south along the canal towpath, farther than I usually go, and was rewarded with the site of two mature bald eagles in a tree. One flew off after I’d taken a few photos, and the second stuck around for a good while.

Mature bald eagle perched on a tree branch, leaning forward slightly as it looks down.
Bald eagle No. 1, a minute or so before it flew off.
A bald eagle looks to its right from its perch on a tree branch.
Bald eagle No. 2, who gave me more time to shoot.

After taking several shots of the remaining eagle, I headed back toward my car, hoping my second pass by the swamp would turn up the prothonotary warbler.

It never did show, although a yellow warbler came by and landed on a tree just off the towpath. I was glad finally to get a clear shot at one, who tops this post.

I also got some nice looks at a Northern house wren that perched high up on a barren tree. Although I see house wrens routinely in my yard, it was fun to see this one in the swamp, warmed and well lit by the sun. 🦅

House wren singing from the top of a bare tree.
Northern house wren singing.

It pays to shoot, even when in doubt

Morning broke foggy in my part of the world. A couple of days of heavy rain left us soggy and humid conditions. I dodged puddles as I headed up the central trail at the Mercer Meadows Pole Farm this morning and spotted an American goldfinch ahead of me.

It was poking in the wet dirt for I’m not sure what. Having photographed many a goldfinch, for a moment I thought, why bother? But then I raised my camera and trained it on the bird. As I pressed the shutter, it flew off to my right.

I didn’t bother to check the image until I got home, and I was surprised to find I caught the bird with wings outstretched. I’m glad I decided to shoot, and I was surprised with an unusual perspective on a familiar bird that I see almost daily in my yard. 🦅

The glorious sights and sounds of Spring migration

It’s the most wonderful time of the year. So goes a well-known Christmas carol, but the tune plays in my head during Spring bird migration. It plays, that is, when it’s not drowned out by the abundant birdsong that fills the woods and fields on my birding outings.

This morning, I went to the Reed-Bryan side of the Mercer Meadows Pole Farm, a strategic decision less for the birds and more for my wife’s Mother’s Day request for bagels from the shop near the park.

I had a delightful morning outing. One of the highlights was watching the Baltimore oriole atop this post land high up in a tree, chasing off an indigo bunting that had already staked the spot out.

Inidgo bunting perched on a tree branch.
The indigo bunting, not aware that the oriole was about to jump its claim.

A short while later, I heard a rose-breasted grosbeak singing. It was high up in another tree, and I walked as quickly as I could to get into position to take its portrait. The sun was shining, and I was grateful for that. I was also grateful for the burst capacity on my Canon R-7 camera, which enabled me to catch shots of the bird with its big bill open as it sang.

Rose-breasted grosbeak singing from a tree with green leaves and buds.
The male rose-breasted grosbeak has a song that rivals its physical beauty.

Yesterday on my walk on the Pole Farm side of the park, I pulled out my iPhone and on Merlin recorded this 41-second clip of birds singing in the woods.

It’s a virtual symphony featuring (not in order of appearance) an ovenbird, red-eyed vireo, wood thrush, tufted titmouse, gray catbird and Eastern towhee. That’s what Merlin identified, although I can’t say I can pick out each of them. But it’s a wonderful (there’s that word again!) example of what Spring migration brings.

The oriole I saw today wasn’t singing, and I was so busy shooting photos that I didn’t record the grosbeak. I’ll save that for another day of good cheer. 🦅