May I Ask You Something..?

 ...if a Blackpoll Warbler assents in a forest and nobody sees it, does it make a sound? A-si-si-si-si-si ! Obviously.

May is the best month of the year for birding. Everyone knows this. Residents are setting up their homesteads, migrants are passing through en masse, and it is pleasant to be outside. In fact, it's not just the birds in May; it's everything. Bird, bug, and bloom...the natural world swells with its infinite life cycles. Look to the canopies and the skies for the birds, yes, but also watch what might be under foot.

The Goldboro Wasterwater Ponds are in their prime in May. There Wood Ducks popping out of every reedy nook and cattail cranny while Ibis streak overhead, and shorebirds abound that one would be hard-pressed to find most anywhere else in the county.  

Adjacent from the muddy lagoons, the liminal fields host Turkey, Kingbirds, icterids, Larks, and no doubt some Grasshopper Sparrows I still need to pick up for the county list. Also those darn Bobwhites. And Nighthawks. Gah there is much to enjoy, and much to do.

The rich undergrowth and foliage around the lagoons hosts all manner of passerine, both resident breeders and interlopers. Some prefer to look at you weirdly.

White-eyed Vireo

Some prefer to look weird themselves. 

1/2 Summer Tanager

And some prefer not to look at you at all

There have been some truly excellent finds this spring at the GWWTP, most all of them by Ann "See 'em All" Stinely (currently crushing me in Wayne County and the overall leader for species seen in NC this year), including Black-billed Cuckoo and Least Tern, as well as many excellent Warblers.

Believe it or not, below is a diagnostic shot of a Blackpoll Warbler (new county bird!). Bonus points if you can tell why in the comment (also, binocular views were very good, not just going on a photo here).

For filling out the county year list, Cliffs of the Neuse and GWWTP have still been aces, but truth be told I have been most enjoying my time birding a local patch near home that I will profile soon, a little gem of semi-legal accessibility and habitat in a rural desert of agriculture (not bashing, but poor for species diversity). Alas, one thing it does not, and will not have, is mudflats. Gotta enjoy those Plovers when I can.

Where do you stand in the heated rivalry, Team Sandpiper or Team Plover??? Do you prefer the tactile, elongated feedings habits of the pipers, or the stout sturdy sprints of the plovers? Do you prefer collars and neck bands or mottled mantles and streaky breasts? Fortunately at the GWWTP you can have it all. 

Life is a series of greetings and partings, of comings and goings, sunrises and sunsets. Would that we hold all the beautiful inputs and imprints of this past month on our souls, that we live every day like it's middle of May. 

The Pilgrim's Progress - Flee to the Cleve

After a disappointing (again, only by Magee Marsh standards) Saturday, we rolled out to clearer skies on Sunday. Clear skies and 27 mph southerly winds. Dude.

When life gives you lemons, you scrounge up some sugar, squeeze hard, make a beverage, and you're good. But what about when life gives you lemons AND then 27mph sustained winds blow the sugar into your eyes AND also the lemon juice got in your eyes AND also it's still windy!?!? You gotta make like this Cooper's and chill. And I am not a chill person. I don't even like chili. 

We gave our morning to the Magee boardwalk again without anything new to show for it, and after another, even less productive swing through Metzger, decided to head east. We were both flying out of Cleveland the following morning, and figured the birding couldn't get any worse, and maybe we would get away from the Eerie weather a little bit. 

While boldly refueling at Chipotle, we picked out an en-route spot called Sheldon Marsh State Nature Preserve. This was the 5th State Park we checked out in 24 hours. Truly, kudos to OH for the well-maintained preserves. They have great accessibility, are clean, seem to be well-attended...just really excellent preservation ethos all around. East NC could take a few (hundred) notes.

The woodland trails were squishy and semi-flooded (alas, no Timberdoodles) and did not yield much, but they eventually spilled onto the paved trail through the marsh, all the way to the freshwater shoreline that hosts Common Tern and Piping Plover for breeding (at least, it might). It was a veritable swampy Eden, where the expected Egrets and Herons gamboled in the water lilies while Wood Ducks cruised the slime. 

There were also some threatened (but not threatening) Blanding's Turtles about, sporting their signature yellow throat and domed shells. These guys live 80+ years but take 15-20 years to reach sexual maturity. Basically they have human life cycles but more interesting necks (and ribs). The scraggy shrub along the marshes also hosted some accommodating Palm Warblers, which we had seen only fleetingly at Metzger Marsh.

Through the marshlands and the Erie 'inner bank', there is a rock jetty cutting out past a utility shed. Here was had some semi-pelagic flavor, or at any rate a nice reminder we were near a large body of water. Sorry you got such a blanding name, Common Tern. Red-breasted Merganser dodged a bullet there!

Sheldon kicked up several new species for the trip. And even if a non-lifer, non-FOY Palm Warbler is not much of a prize for OH in May, can't take anything from Sheldon Marsh. Check it out if you're in the area. Look up while exiting the outhouse (just make sure you are zipped first) and you'll see the resident park ranger:

After Sheldon Marsh we completed the commute to Cleveland and checked into our airport-adjacent hotel. It was 6:15pm or so, leaving a little under 2 hours of daylight. Our luck (or skill) had not yet matched our ambition, and we figured birding until sundown would be the best way to end the weekend. Like a chicken's stomach (full of grit and bile and probably corn) we sallied forth to the nearest hotspot, simply called Tyler Field. The field itself is just as odd sort of auxiliary soccer/frisbee green off of the greenbelt, but a pedestrian trail (Valley Parkway Trail) behind it cuts through nice mixed woodlot along the Rocky River. With fading light, we birded here all of an hour and fifteen minutes and honestly...kinda wish we'd just spent the weekend here!

We had great looks at a solicitous Barred Owl, saw Black-and-White, Palm, Yellow, and Yellow-rumped Warbler (matching all but the Nashville Warbler and Waterthrush from the trip), and clocked both Oriole species for the area. The sumptuous Baltimore Oriole was heard before it was seen. Although it also wasn't too much work to see it.

 

Icterids are a superlative family. The Blackbird genus boasts handsome, crisp plumage and widespread territorial success, harbingers of spring and freshly tilled fields and dairy farm sewage ponds. Meadowlarks are the very spirit of the Grasslands with their coloration, and their beautiful songs earned them not one, but two State Bird designations. But Orioles are still the best. Their tropical, flaming plumage sets fire to the canopies. Their long, mournful, warbling songs echo long after actual warblers are out of breath. It is a great injustice that they represent fewer State Birds and sports team than Mockingbirds or Cardinals.

Kinda crazy Baltimore and Bullock's Orioles were lumped for like 20 years. Lord Baltimore stands alone. 

We were returning to the car, sated with birds and ready for real food, when we clocked another interesting call. Like the familiar song of the American Robin, but sweeter, richer...as though a Robin became a professional instead of just an enthusiastic drunk at karaoke... 

But there was no way right??? It was 7:54pm and I had made peace with missing this bird on the trip.

It was. Unbelievable. Last bird of the day, last bird of the trip, a Cutthroat, at the death. This was the spark bird for me, the one 21 years ago that caught my eye and stole my breath and left that indelible mark on the soul. 21 years ago, while walking in the woods with family in upstate NY, this bird melted my face and left my forever unable to walk in the woods (or grasslands, or marshes, or parking lots) the same way again. I had not seen Rose-breasted Grosbeak since. Here it was again, the denouement of our Ohioan foray, resplendent even in the dying light. 

Honestly at 1/80 shutter speed in the dying light I'm surprised I got anything at all. There is much to appreciate in the striking pattern on this heavy-metal finch. In addition to the bold and contrasting colors, I admire the subtle asymmetry of the bleeding breast, down the middle but blotting out here and there stochastically, a reminder of the fundamental uniqueness of each piece that makes up the whole. How often do we see plumage coloration with undefined boundaries?

So often, experience falls short of expectations. There are many things I will do differently chasing migrants in May, many mistakes I made. But we also saw some great stuff, and the weekend was a treasure all the same. Time spent out looking is never time poorly spent; there's always something good among the flowers. 

Birder Inferior Jumped the Gun

When  does a hobby become an obsession? Is there anything in between, something that sounds more balanced? Probably so. If you're getting a bit worried and starting to wonder, one sign that one is more than a mere inheritor, hobbyist, or enthusiast would be if one finds oneself embarking on a pilgrimage. 

For baseball fans it's Cooperstown. For Catholics it is maybe the Camino di Santiago. For Floridians it is Gatorland. For birders, it is Magee Marsh. This lengthy but unassuming boardwalk is world-renowned as the site of the Biggest Week in American Birding and a veritable Mecca for both birds and birders come mid-May.

In early April, I found myself eyeing a weekend getaway with Butler's Bird Sr., a birding spectacular of feathered frivolities where the only limits would be the daylight and our knee cartilage. Of course, seasoned birders and people who didn't grow up in the dessert alike will be quick to note there's another factor here, one insufficiently included in the planning. We were looking at the first weekend of May, the very beginning of the month, as it turned out. 

But which way to go, North or South? Swallows or Flickers? Either one sounds like a hot date.

Choices: We could head to South Texas and try to catch the passerine emigrants as they on-shored from their Caribbean commute, or head north to the south shores of Lake Erie and look for those trailblazers preparing to cross into the great boreal beyond. I know what you're thinking...beginning of May? That's early dude. Make like a duck and head south. And that is totally what we should have done. 

But I don't know...the Hajj called. I wanted it to be Magee. I had never been. I had been to South TX (in July...). And Magee was meh : /

It was with fair consternation that I watched the migration and weather reports preceding our trip. A week prior, a number of potential  Lifers were reported in the area, but as the days drew nearer, the forecast looked bleak. This is not to say the birding was poor overall, but relative to opportunity costs and potential, rushing it did not pan out.  

The last week in Magee Marsh, mid to late Maye, they have had 30+ Warbler species, including the highly endangered Kirtland's Warbler, all make appearances. I think we had 5 for the trip, all of which are pretty easy in North Carolina. The week before our arrival, a respectable reporting of migrants was on the public boards, including several lifers. But when we arrived Saturday, there had been none of than Yellow reported in the last 3 days. 

Any day with sentry Wood Ducks is a good day. But if you go to Magee Marsh and the best bird of your weekend there is a Northern Waterthrush - not just yours, but the best bird reported for the weekend on the community boards - then you know something was off. 

Inclement weather throughout the Midwest in the preceding week basically grounded all northerly migration to our area. The Saturday we hit the ground say clouds, wind, and scattered showers with high temperatures in the 40s. There would be very few new arrivals, and what migrants or residents had already arrived would be hunkered down, Catbird style.

It made for some nice sunset angles at least. Almost as Glorious and the Golden-winged Warblers and Blue-winged Warblers that could hAvE YoU Know WhAt NeVeRmInD...

We patrolled that famous boardwalks like sentries on inspection, but failed to turn up much of note. Cruelly, the best bird of Saturday was a Prothonotary Warbler, which breed in the swamps around home. We did out best to help other folks get on what scattered and retiring birds we could, but by midday still had not seen anything that wasn't available down the road at home.

One of the many, many cool things about this area is how many preserves and parks are adjacent on the south shore. Just down the road from Magee Marsh in Ottawa NWR, which also boasts wonderful community spaces and accessibility - seriously inspiring stuff and beautiful grounds, all for $0 admission. They even had complimentary facemelt cream at the visitor center, an amenity provided, no doubt, after feedback from patrons about the abiding Tree Swallows.

As a quick sidenote, I just want to say that this is not a good picture of an American Goldfinch, but American Goldfinches are a special kind of yellow all the same. Kudos to Iowa for recognizing the game, and making them the state bird. Carry on, Goldfinch. Carry on, Iowa.

Drab Gray Catbird for Comparison I guess...

While the overall scene at Ottawa was encouraging from a sort of "future of birding, good of the community" perspective, the species array itself was no improvement on Magee. It was time to chop things up a bit, time to hit the "metzgerei" (butchershop, in German, if college class served me well).

Metzger Marsh was the best of the three sites for May 2nd, delivering a couple of new passerines for the trip (Black-throated Green Warbler, Nashville Warbler) and the chance to break wind without having to worry who's behind you on the boardwalk. 

The migrant trap portion of Metzger Marsh is tiny, a small hovel of trees south of the dam where someone from the Black Swamp Observatory resolutely counts the migrants every a.m. But the small space amounts to high concentrations of birds in a small area (that is also fairly human-lite). Warbling Vireos were the most vocal presence here but it was certainly the most active area we hit, and the lack of shoulder-bumping was a definite plus.  

If you made a pile of all North America's Red-bellied Woodpeckers next to all the Downy Woodpeckers, which pile would be bigger?

The real gem of Metzger Marsh is the wetland drive preceding the dike. If Trumpeter Swans are a junk bird, you are in a good spot. One could pick nits about their unbecoming brown, but why would one want to do that? Then one would just have a bunch of nits in one's hands, and what good would come of that? Best to leave those nits alone and enjoy North America's heaviest flying bird and largest waterfowl as they are.    

Also there were some Sandhills Cranes with a colt nearby. That's fine too. Once you've seen 20,000 at the Whitewater Draw in Az, you've seen them all.

Given the limited access at Metzger, once one has scope main spots there's really not much else. We tried another off-strip area (Touissant NWR) without mush to speak of other than some dead geese floating in the retention ponds. We resupplied and planned a resurgent Sunday while enjoying cocktails and tacos. The Kentucky Derby was also running, a fun and frantic 2 minutes that makes one nostalgic for home...