birding

Even’ Star Organic Farm party

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Rhubarb Ginger Galette, round two.

We celebrated Memorial Day by attending a party at ‘our’ farm: Even’ Star Organic Farm, where we’re members of the CSA. We’d had a fun time at the autumn party and enjoyed the drive down, which included stopping on the way for pumpkins and honey at a farm stand in Dunkirk. This time we drove straight through, and arrived for a gorgeous afternoon.

Having taken the farm tour last autumn, we opted for eating the delicious food, drinking the tasty Weiss beer, and lounging around. My contribution to the desserts was a Rhubarb Ginger Galette with a half-whole-wheat crust; it was meant to be all whole wheat, but I mistook the bags of flour and dumped the remaining white flour into the bin by mistake. I was glad that I had planned to make and bring two galettes, as that meant I already had a backup plan in place when the first one wasn’t ready for prime time: I forgot to strain out the excess liquid from the fruit and inadvertently omitted the butter that would have thickened the filling, which combined with a small tear in the crust to create a gooey puddle around one half of the pan. This first round also helped make clear that the galette needed to cool on the sheet; once we’d let it cool that way overnight it slid off onto a board without a problem. Probably the French have some large flat galette-removing spatula-type implement, but I certainly don’t.

Having an afternoon party meant no bonfire, but it did mean that we could explore the woods a bit more. Once we’d eaten, we trooped off in search of new birds. As promised, we sighted several Indigo Buntings in the fallow fields near the house. Buntings, like bluebirds, are common in the right habitat in this region, but I’d yet to see one. I still haven’t gotten over the surprise of seeing such blue birds, so it was a thrill to see them popping up over the grasses. On the drive in we’d seen a true Black Vulture in a group that was devouring something on the grassy median of the road. It was unmistakable with its deep black plumage, gray face and white beak, and it was a thrill to get such a good look at it on the ground after years of peering into the skies hoping not to see the flash of red on the faces of what always turned out to be Turkey Vultures. In addition to those long sought after life birds, we lucked out and spotted a mature Bald Eagle circling over the treeline. It was only the second time I’ve seen an eagle in adult plumage, and the first for my partner, so that was a great treat. No trip to a farm is complete for me without sighting a few amphibians, and the best part of the day was seeing a juvenile salamander that the kids had collected from the stream. The frogs and tadpoles were lovely, of course, but the little guy with gills still on was particularly nice.

On the way back home we stopped to check on Solomon’s Island Winery, which is quite small and run by a couple basically out of their home. The property is smaller than my family’s blueberry farm, which means that it would be virtually impossible for them to grow their own grapes. The wines were largely low alcohol fruit-flavored varieties—coolers in a bottle seem to be a popular item in Maryland—with only a couple of serious labels. The Meritage was decent and tasted like a Bordeaux, as advertised. The Icewine was also a fine dessert wine; we bought a bottle, and it made me regret not tasting the Eisling when we were at Boordy Vineyards earlier in the weekend. Overall, though, I would recommend sticking with wines by actual vineyards, from regions where the terrain is more suitable to growing grapes.

Having fulfilled our farm-related duties for the season—sent in our check, attended the party—we now sit back and let the food come to us. Not too shabby!

Even’ Star Organic Farm party

new life birds on the Delaware Bay

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This week we got up early on Saturday to travel to Delaware for the Migratory Bird Festival at Bombay Hook. Our goal was to see new shorebirds, and we were successful, even with the high water remaining from last week’s storms. After getting up at 4:30am, we were on the road at 5:20am. This was the first time I’d gotten on the road before dawn in order to see birds, another small milestone in the evolution of my birding hobby. Most organized birding events start at such ungodly hours, so I expect I’ll be doing more of that in the future. The first time around, though, I was grateful to not have to drive myself or interact with strangers before my morning coffee.

The drive was mostly uneventful; the weather was clear and we made good time. On the Bay Bridge I made the mistake of looking out at the water with binoculars: I’ve never gotten nauseous so quickly in my entire life. The remaining hour drive with the windows down restored me mostly to normal, but I now understand the warnings about going on pelagic birding tours. At the refuge we doused ourselves from head to toe in DEET and gathered outside the visitors’ center for our boat ride through the salt marsh (the reason we’d planned to arrive so early). The ride was fun, although it didn’t yield as many bird sightings as we’d hoped as a result of the recent flooding. We heard the distinctive Clapper Rail in the grasses, flushed a Spotted Sandpiper, which then made its jerky-winged way down the channel in front of us for a fair stretch, and saw groups of Dowitchers and smaller birds winging their way overhead. The small number of birds was less of a disappointment than losing my hat to the wind and water; I was able to replace it with a new one from the gift shop, but it won’t be the same as my old smiling-girl-on-a-bike one that I’d had since doing the AIDS ride five years ago.

After the boat ride, the new hat, an early lunch, and the receipt of a free native Summersweet cutting for our home garden, we set out to bird the auto tour. As hoped, we soon discovered shorebirds aplenty, almost all of them new. At the first pond, we came across the flock of American Avocets, beautiful large graceful birds. They flew off before we could get a close look at them, however we saw them in flight several times through the afternoon and caught up with them at a later point on the tour. It took us a while to get into the habit of seeing the smaller brown birds, but eventually we got better: we would simply scan the landscape two or three times until their shapes jumped out at us from the same patches of reeds we’d previously passed over, much like those brain teasing posters at the mall. In this way we were able to identify the enormous flocks of Semipalmated Sandpipers and Black-bellied Plovers that were flying in and landing in large clusters as the tide rose in the outer parts of the refuge. In with this group was a single Semipalmated Plover; near but not intermingled we tracked a small group of Least Sandpipers and a couple of beautiful light gray Baird’s Sandpipers foraging along the water’s edge.

Once we’d had our fill of the refuge we decided to try our luck at the beaches down the coast a bit. Because Bombay Hook is predominantly salt marsh, it’s hard to spot those birds that don’t like to travel inland. We were hoping to get a look at some of the legendary long-distance migrants that stopped at this stretch of shore to gorge on horseshoe crab eggs before continuing north. Our first two attempts to make it to a beach ended in ‘road closed’ signs, an artifact of the earlier flooding. Pickering Beach Road was open, though, and we headed to the beach, dutifully following the marked public access route. On the beach, serendipity took over: we followed a large shorebird down the beach to the right, successfully identifying it as a Willet before it flew off. It led us to a stretch of sand that looked out onto what appeared to be a heap of old tires; I eventually concluded that it must have been a purposefully created outcrop designed to make up for the lack of large rocks along that part of the shore. At first glance the tires yielded only a single enormous gull, which neither my partner nor I found worthy of comment. Finding nothing else of interest on the beach to train the binoculars on, we both returned to the large gull only to discover that the tires were completely covered with medium-sized shorebirds after all: the very birds we’d traveled to the beach to try to see! A group of twenty or thirty Ruddy Turnstones were hanging out there — resting, no doubt, after their journey from South America — and a single pair of Red Knots was keeping us company. The decent size of the birds in combination with their distinctive markings — it’s hard to confuse the rusty back and stark head pattern of the Ruddy Turnstone or the salmon and gray combination of the Red Knot — allowed us to identify them conclusively, even with our minimalist binoculars.

The sighting of these two birds was the perfect end to the day, allowing us to return home on a high note of success rather than continuing to head down the shore getting ever more tired and frustrated. I was proud of myself for sighting seven new life birds, most of them painstakingly identified by the two of us without outside assistance. And, I have another free plant for the garden!

new life birds on the Delaware Bay

new life birds at Bombay Hook

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This past weekend we took advantage of nice weather and an unscheduled day to drive to the wildlife refuge at Bombay Hook in search of new shorebirds. Shorebirds are the other glaring weak spot in my birding — warblers being the first — and I’ve vowed that this year I will improve my skills. Our trip revealed that I’m getting better, but for little brown birds running around on mudflats at a distance, I really could use a stronger pair of binoculars. The ones I have do fine for large birds at a distance and small birds in the woods, but sandpipers and waterfowl across the marsh at dusk all blur together.

Technological limitations aside, we spotted about thirty species on our trip, with seven new life birds among them. The first birds of the trip were two birds of prey along the road into the refuge: a Rough-Legged Hawk hovering over a field and a Northern Harrier taking off from a telephone wire. The harrier was also the first life bird of the day; it felt like an auspicious beginning to see something new before even reaching our destination. Just inside the gate we promptly spotted some familiar friends: Eastern Bluebirds, grackles, robins, starlings and mockingbirds. At the nesting houses outside the visitors’ centre were the first Purple Martins of the year; we got a nice good look at them as they staked out their ground against the starlings. Although shorebirds were the goal, I couldn’t make myself drive quickly past the other habitat on the way to the flats, and as a result we caught sight of the second life bird of the day, a Ring-Necked Pheasant making its merry way along the edge of the field just at the start of the driving loop. I know these are common birds, somewhat disdained for being introduced and descendants of domestic escapees to boot, but I hadn’t seen one in North America before. In the same stretch of fields I spotted a couple of Horned Larks mixed in with the hordes of Red-Winged Blackbirds, starlings and robins, and in the pond beyond we found a handful of gulls, including our old Chincoteague nemesis, the Laughing Gull.

Moving on to the first pond, we unintentionally flushed a Great Egret and a Snowy Egret from the marsh opposite and caught a Great Blue Heron flying in overhead. As luck would have it, a Black-Necked Stilt landed at the edge of the pond just as we arrived and we got a good close look at it poking around. We’d seen a couple at Chincoteague during the spring migration three years ago, but this was a great second sighting. Also in the pond were Northern Pintails, Northern Shovelers, and Green-Winged Teals, birds I’d seen on my trip up last month but which were new to my partner. Circling overhead was a tern that I would swear was a Roseate were (1) they not so rare and (2) I a more confident birder. The bird had a crisp black head and nape, a black bill, and the longest outer tail feathers I’ve ever seen on a tern. Later in the day we did see Forster’s Terns, so it’s possible that the light made the bill of this one look black. I would love to know if any Roseates have been sighted along the Northeast coast recently, though, as the tail was striking enough that I retain my doubts. Even with an inconclusive identification, the tern was exciting to see!

On our way to the mudflats, we found a pair of Blue-Winged Teals mixed in with some Green-Winged Teals dabbling around in low tide. I believe they nest at Bombay Hook, but I had failed to find any on my previous visit, so they were a good surprise. The other neat surprise, after peering after Greater Yellowlegs and Lesser Yellowlegs — new to me but not particularly challenging to find or identify — and hordes of Dunlins in various stages of breeding plumage, was an American Golden-Plover running around on the flat closest to the road. Its back and head were in full breeding plumage, with the belly still filling in, but it was glowing and sharp looking nonetheless. With its white undertail coverts and white flank stripe it most resembled its European cousin, but the fact that the vast majority of North American sightings of those birds occurred in Newfoundland (thanks again, Sibley!) — and much peering through our binoculars with our elbows propped on the roof of the car — swayed us to the belief that it simply hadn’t gotten all its summer feathers yet. It was still a good catch of a less common — and good-looking! — native bird, so we were pretty pleased with ourselves.

The rest of the trip yielded nothing new, but as we made our way around the rest of the loop we spotted a Killdeer, several Black-Crowned Night Herons roosting in the trees with the Snowy Egrets and Great Egrets, and a single Cattle Egret hanging out on the edge of the marsh with a Snowy Egret. Our very last sighting of the day was a young Bald Eagle wading around in low tide, surrounded by several shorebirds that seemed not at all concerned about being eaten. I suppose in a place with an abundance of ducks, shorebirds are a little skimpy for its taste. Either way, it was funny to see such an obvious predator landed in the midst of what I would certainly have tagged as prey.

By the time we left the sun had definitely gone down, the mosquitoes were out in force, and we had to wait for the automatic gate to release us. It was a good day, though, and if I didn’t see the teeming and varied masses of sandpipers I was hoping for, there’s always next month (or year).

new life birds at Bombay Hook

new life birds at Lake Artemesia and Patuxent

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In order to try to catch sight of some of the migrating warblers coming through this area, I visited Lake Artemesia at what seemed like an unreasonably early — and cold! — hour this morning: 7:00am. When I first arrived, only the larger birds were active: Cardinals, Blue Jays, Robins, Mockingbirds, and Starlings were all making loads of noise, as well as a single male Eastern Towhee camped out at the top a tree singing its little heart out. Out on the water, a bunch of Coots, several pairs of Canada Geese, and the threesome of Wood Ducks were paddling around (there must be another male around somewhere, right?). By the time I reached the bridge to the peninsula, though, the smaller birds were starting to get going: I saw a goldfinch, loads of chickadees, and a Tufted Titmouse. Just over the bridge, I was geeked to see a Green Heron up in a tree. I know, intellectually, that they nest in trees, but it still strikes me as odd to actually see them up in the branches. I was also unduly excited to spot a Snapping Turtle in the lake near the bridge. It wasn’t as impressively large as the one I saw at the University Hills pond last year, but it was large enough to be clearly identifiable, especially with its long tail in view.

The peninsula yielded two new life birds, although not any of the warblers I was hoping to see. Near the restrooms I found a Field Sparrow, a bird I’d been told was around but had yet to spot. Nearby, along one of the ‘paths’ cut into the grass, I discovered a small group of Savannah Sparrows. They were neat, with their yellow head stripes and lovely streaky colors. The flash of yellow gave me hope that I had found a warbler, but I was just as pleased to find a type of sparrow I would never have been looking for. I did see some warblers in the trees along the bank of the peninsula, but only Yellow-Rumped ones. I spotted a Blue-Gray Gnatcatcher catching gnats and the male Bluebird hovering around yet another new nesting box; I suspect that he keeps getting bullied away from the boxes by the Tree Sparrows, and I’m hoping that doesn’t mean the pair will move on completely.

I wasn’t too bent out of shape about not seeing any new warblers, as I’ve already seen two new ones at Patuxent this month: a single Pine Warbler and a few Palm Warblers; the latter were traveling with a large group of Yellow-Rumped Warblers, as I was told they likely would be. In a stroke of luck, I completely lost track of time and was sitting on a bench on the lake trail after the trails were supposed to be closed, which was exactly the point in the late afternoon when all the little insect eating birds became active again. I think I also saw a Black-Throated Green Warbler, but I wasn’t able to conclusively identify it. It wasn’t until the ranger directed me to return to the parking lot, via the bullhorn on the jeep from across the lake, did I realize how late it had gotten.

The Pine Warbler sighting was the result of sheer determination, and not a little neck-crunching. I had taken my partner up to Patuxent to show him some of the birds I’d seen there that were new to him (namely the bluebirds and the loon that had been hanging out on the lake), and we doggedly tracked the noisy little bird through the woods and then he stood patiently by while I peered at the very tops of the tallest trees following the little blur of yellow. In the end, I confirmed the identification by behavior, which seems to be the case more frequently as I move out of the most common birds into the still-pretty-common-in-the-right-habitat birds. Which is why I’ve switched to using Sibley’s as my primary guide: I find the behavior, habitat, and song descriptions to be more thorough and easier to understand than in Peterson’s.

In an effort to keep adding mostly-common birds to my lifelist, we’re planning to visit Bombay Hook this weekend to try to see the shorebirds that should have returned by now. I imagine it will be quite busy on a weekend afternoon, but I’m looking forward to it.

new life birds at Lake Artemesia and Patuxent

new life birds at Patuxent and Lake Artemesia

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Since getting the car last week I’ve taken two trips up to the Patuxent Wildlife Refuge to walk the trails and look for birds. Last Monday’s visit was on a rainy day, so I didn’t expect to see much. Not much is still something at a place like Patuxent, though, and the very first birds I spotted were a pair of Wood Ducks paddling around in the creek (the trickle of water that I expect will develop into a fuller marsh if we have a rainy summer). They didn’t appreciate my arrival and left with much hooting and flapping, startling a group of snipes up out of the reeds. The snipes were a new life bird for me, and seemed to have changed names between the publication of my older Peterson’s, where they’re listed as Common Snipes, and my newer Sibley’s, where they’re called Wilson’s Snipes. At any rate: I saw a bunch of snipes! Their distinctive back stripes made them easy to identify, and I was pleased to add another tricksy marsh bird to my list.

The walk through the woods was pleasant, but relatively bird-free. I saw some titmice and a heron wading around at the shoreline. Cash Lake Pier is the endpoint of the trail, and it was nice to sit and take in the view of the lake from up there. The Tree Swallows had returned and were swooping over the lake in large flocks. When I arrived at the pier I discovered a pair of Northern Rough-Winged Swallows just hanging out on the railing. I’d only seen them once before, last year at the University Hills pond, and it had been late enough in the season that I wasn’t entirely convinced they weren’t young Tree Swallows. It was nice to have a firm identification; second sightings are still exciting in my book! On Saturday my partner and I had stopped at Lake Artemesia and discovered a young Osprey hanging around. It also wasn’t a first sighting, but it was the first time I’d seen one close enough to be able to get a good look at the head and wing markings. Other sightings had been from the highway in a moving car, so this sighting marked a more firm identification.

I returned to Lake Artemesia on Tuesday, and was pleased to discover a small group of Pied-Billed Grebes swimming about. Unlike at Bombay Hook, there was no mistaking them this time, and I was thrilled to see them. There’s something about the small awkwardness of grebes that I find endearing. The Osprey was still hanging about, and while I didn’t get to see it dive, it did hover directly overhead a few times, which is always neat with such a large bird. I had assumed it was just passing through on its way to the shore and didn’t expect to see it again; now I’m wondering if it will stay and nest. There are also still groups of Ruddy Ducks and American Coots out on the lake, as well as at least one pair of Ring-Necked Ducks still hanging about.

Yesterday was another beautiful day after a stormy night, so I returned to Lake Artemesia to see if anything interesting had blown in. I wasn’t the only one to have this thought: I encountered two other people with binoculars at Lake Artemesia. The first was kind enough to let me know that Palm Warblers begin to travel through in the company of Yellow-Rumped Warblers this time of year, and the second alerted me to the presence of a Horned Grebe in breeding plumage on the Lake. I had seen the Horned Grebe in winter plumage hanging around, and did see it when I arrived, but I hadn’t noticed the other in among the Ruddy Ducks. This both confirmed my identification of the one in winter plumage—still nice for me with my level of experience—and allowed me to backtrack a bit and catch sight of the grebe with a splash of gold across its head. Since Horned Grebes are migratory, it’s rare to see them in breeding plumage this far south, and I’m thankful for the opportunity. Backtracking also led me to find a single Double-Crested Cormorant out on the water; I’d only previously seen them from afar on the ocean, so getting a good look at the cheek-markings was fun as well. The final gift of the morning was a male Eastern Towhee on the path near the parking lot; I’d seen my first female Eastern Towhee on the nearby Paint Branch trail about a month before. I’d sighted male towhees out west, but this was the first male of the eastern subspecies that I’d seen.

Following such a successful trip to Lake Artemesia, I couldn’t resist the urge to head up to Patuxent and see what had landed on the lake there. I am glad I did, as I had a great time! The first bird I saw was another new life bird, a Swamp Sparrow. I suspect I’ve seen these before, at Point Pelee and the University Hills pond, but this was the first time I was able to be absolutely sure. As I was standing watching the sparrow, I became aware of an overwhelming chorus of frogs. Amphibians are my first love, and so I following a footpath—likely a deer trail—through the grass to the edge of the creek. What to my wondering eyes did appear but a horde of toads emerging from their hibernation in the mud and chasing each other around in attempts to mate. One of my housemates in Ann Arbor witnessed this spring event years ago in a park near where we used to live, and I was so jealous. So jealous! Imagine the nicest material item you’ve ever wanted it being given to the most obnoxious person you’ve ever met, and then multiply that by about a thousand: that’s how jealous I was, not because my friend was obnoxious but because frogs and toads are my first love. At any rate, all that was washed away as I got to stand and watch all these toads acting kooky. As a visual aid, I offer you this photo of one small stretch of the creek (see how many toads you can find in it):


Toads mating at Patuxent.

Following that excitement, I was happy to just walk in the woods and enjoy myself whether or not I saw any birds. Near the trailhead I saw a pair of Eastern Bluebirds hanging about a nesting box; although I know they’re common out here, this was still only my fourth sighting and their bright coloring remains startling. In the woods I encountered an Eastern Phoebe, another bird that I’ve only seen a couple of times before; it was perched above the trail bobbing its tail and singing away. Along the shore there were turtles crowding every rock and log; like the toads, they were coming out of hibernation and seeking the sun. Up at the Cash Lake Pier I found both another Double-Crested Cormorant and a fellow birder—the binoculars give it away every time. I walked over to say hello and he was kind enough to point out a Common Loon out on the lake, another new life bird for me! As with bluebirds, loons had loomed large in my imagination, birds that were never sighted yet deeply loved and exotic to someone raised inland. He also pointed out the nesting platform that the circling Osprey seemed to be using; I look forward to returning through the summer and watching for young birds. As if those sightings weren’t all enough, I saw a Hermit Thrush in the woods on the walk back to the car, another bird that I’d sighted only once before—in the backyard of our most recent house in DC—and I was happy to get a second look.

Trips like these remind me of the positive side of being a relative novice at this birding stuff: I’m almost guaranteed to see something I’ve never seen before on each trip, as many common birds are still new. It also reminds me how lucky I am to have moved to an area with such diverse habitat, within reach of so many parks and refuges. It wasn’t something we took into consideration when choosing our house location, but being on the northeast side of the District in the Chesapeake Bay and Anacostia River watersheds has yielded one pleasant surprise after the other.

new life birds at Patuxent and Lake Artemesia