5MR Month II: February Schmebruary

Several weeks ago I had an interesting exchange with a long-haul grain trucker. I was helping him unload fifty thousand pounds of wheat middlings out of a dump trailer in the rain (sucks), and inevitably we shot the breeze while working. He was a big guy, surly looking with only 3 or 4 of organic teeth left in his head after 40 years of dip, but still nice enough. As one does with itinerant strangers, we talked of traffic, local flavor, and, of course, the weather. 

'Chilly and often rainy' pretty much sums up winters here in east NC, not the worst if not the best seasonal dichotomy. It was here that the fellow threw me a curveball, stating matter-of-factly, "Yeah, it's been a weird winter...'course the government is controlling the weather you know."

This fellow was a chem-trailer.

Rain, wind or snow...Chipping Sparrows seem impervious to it all, much like mailmen

We've probably all been in this situation before, when somebody shatters the conventional window of discourse and in an awkward flash you have to recalibrate: Did they say that on purpose? Do they think I will be a sympathetic audience? Did they say it half seriously and are gauging reaction before commiting? How much longer am I stuck here? Is The Thing actually destroyed at the end of the movie, or has it just absorbed and transmogrified into Kurt Russell?

It's hard to unravel the 'how' and 'why' of something like ChemTrails (or The Thing). If the government is controlling the weather, why is it making the weather bad? Grange Man said it was to hurt farmers. Why? He wasn't sure about that part. Is it to increase support for environmental legislation that will increase federal powers? So Monsanto can eventually monopolize weather-proof seed production? Maybe the most practical question should be, "Do you really think that our government could orchestrate and execute something of this scale, in plain sight, without verified whistleblowers, when it spends 1 or 2 months each year straight-up shut down from budget gridlock?"

Creating artificial clouds or not...it'd be awful hard to keep so many in the dark.

Why bring all of this up now? What has this got to do with bird-blogging?
Because despite all my dismissal, all the evidence and common sense to the contrary...I dunno, maybe the Grain Truck Philosopher was onto something. How else does one explain seven SIX weekends in a row of steady rain and wind??? The Government (Deep State) doesn't want me to win 5MR is why.

Look at this nonsense. So foggy it looks like an impressionist painting.

After a birdy January surpassing expectations, February has been a kick in the binoculars. I guess the universe abhors a vacuum--or maybe that's Big Gov. too. To be fair, I did get one day in February when it was only overcast and not rainy, and the birding was good. Very good.
The birds were eager to be birded, I was happy to oblige. This February wrap up shall be almost exclusively about that day.

Here is pleasant image of pines and vines almost ruined buy a coincidental YB Blurry-headed Vireo.

There have still been some ticks here and there, mostly from incidental driving, but it seems like for the season most of my little 5MR patches have peaked. However, the one where I saw the most potential for spring and summer has continued to grow and now surpassed the others in its own winter right. It helps that I pass through some farmland on the way and have picked up birds like Merlin, Harrier, Am. Pipit that I wouldn't otherwise know where or how to chase; you just happen upon them with time and luck.
The grassy tangles along the Bear Creek are great for sparrows, and the open woods have great promise for breeding passerines, maybe even Bobwhite or Woodcock. I dream of Woodcock. And in the jumbled mess of vines and younger growth between, there's usually something good hiding.



The first Black-and-White Warbler, fresh of its shift at The Footlocker was not just a 5MR bird, but also a county and even --eek-- a State bird. Another score for birding local. This is the only 5MR site where I've been enveloped in a good mixed flock. And in case you have not yet experienced this orgy of ornithological euphoria, being engulfed in the teeming swarm of a feeding mixed flock is one of birding's greatest and most important experiences. The BWWA was joined by both Kinglets, the Chickadee/Titmouse Hivemind complex, Downies & Redbellies, Pine Warblers, Jays, Cards, Towhees, and the Vireo. Eyes on the prize though.

And then there was another. And another. After seeing no Black-and-whites in Carolina before, I had 4 in about 2 hours. I also have not seen any since. I highly recommend watching these birds do their thing; the energetic foraging and beeping with their crisp black and white against all the ecru colors of lower canopy is, how you say, C'est Magnifique!? Plus it's A Warbler in Winter--much better than a lion.

Something I did not really consider until reviewing my 5MR species found vs. missing and expected (a steamy Saturday night, lemme tell ya), is how few woodpeckers are migratory. There is the Sapsucker group (4), then Red-headed and Lewis's. Some ranges expand or contract a bit with the seasons, but none of the picoides and only those two melanerpes migrate. I assume the Sapsuckers move because their diet and habits require warmer temps, whereas the larger genuses are more flexible with their diets. But what about those outliers then? 

Anyway, this all came up because I am waiting on Red-headed Woodpecker to complete my 5MR Woodpeckering. My first few visits to Bear Creek yielded little by way of the timber splitters, but now 3-4 species are reliable, and notably with PIWOs. 

Most conversations that transpire without mentioning and contemplating PIWOs are conversations wasted. Opportunities lost. Things that should be better done.
Part of their allure is the retiring humility juxtaposed with the striking plumage, size, and grace of these birds. Theirs is not a desire for the limelight. My NC experiences with Red-shouldered Hawks are quite the opposite.



Their conspicuous perching and "help I'm being softly murdered!" calls quickly establish presence here the coastal plain around all the woods and swamps, around neighborhoods and parks, in harvested fields and one time at the Dollar General. They are very good-looking, so this behavior is permissible. They're like the Kardashians I guess.

March will be interesting. I still have not solved my waterbird dilemma and am missing the likes of Wigeon and Coot-COOT-for crying out loud. But maybe when other birds start moving up from farther south, my little retention ponds will catch something cool. Until then, mostly just hoping to have a flock of Rusty Blackbirds crash into my window (but be ok). 

On The Virtues of Boardwalks and The Parula Who Couldn't Be Bothered

It is good to have a home away from home. Who doesn't want to have more homes? A diversity of domiciles? A collection of camps? A bricolage of bases? In this day and age, with Air BnB and relatively cheap travel, Cabin Fever is a preventable disease.

Team Butler's Birds recenty spent a weekend at Chocowinity Bay, where the Pamlico River and its tributaries are leave their offerings to the broken beginnings of the Atlantic. 

The small and tidy Goose Creek State Park is a nifty nearby hotspot, where you can find quarantined graveyards for victims of early 1800s Yellow Fever, pay-phones in the woods, and pretty good birds. It should be said that I have never seen any Geese at this creek, however a Carolina Wren does live in the entrance signage. 

  

GCSP is established as having good birding, and I feel it has the potential/unconfirmed actual of great birding, but I have not yet unlocked it. The site has coastal broadleaf and pine woods, brackish shorelines and inlets, cypress swamps, a little bit of open pasture, and parking lots (nothing pads a trip list better than the Starling/House + Chipping Sparrow/Pigeon/Grackle combo).

Ovenbird is one of the reliable species at GCSP. Fond of woodlands with decent undergrowth, they're vocal and visible around every trailhead it seems.

The brackish coastal portion of the park provides the greatest sense of potential, but also disappointment so far. It seems like a great spot for Rails and Sparrows, but other than an occasional fly-by Tern I have not had any birds of note in this area. 

Partially I blame circumstances; it is the farthest corner of the park and the park doesn't open until 8am (!!!), so I'm not flogging the bushes until 8:30am, but I still can't shake the sense I am doing something wrong with this opportunity. Birders...know the feeling? 

Did you know Purple Martins will repurpose old Osprey nests? You didn't? Me either. Because they don't. They're just perched nearby. Don't jump to conclusions.

Every time I have visited the GCSP I have hustled, even bustled, to the corner of brackish inlets, like a child running downstair at Christmas, eager and excited. Like the same child whose parents pawned their respective hair and watch-bands to buy each other gifts and forgot about me entirely, I am continually disappointed and left without. However it's a quick rebound, because GCSP also provides a constant of satisfaction with its boardwalk. 

During the most recent visit, looking for my customary recovery after my customary disappointment, the boardwalk was particularly good, no Magee Marsh or Anahuac, but excellent to scale. Even without birds, the herps are great and it is surprisingly not buggy, actually less so than the woods.

A buzzy NOPA was yelling into the void right at the start where the lichenous boardwalk runs aground. Parulas are typically gregarious, but after checking me out for a minute, perhaps staring into my bird-lusting soul and sensing the emptiness, things got beyond cozy. 

This NOPA had no filters, no scruples, and no sense of personal space. It became my favorite ever individual NOPA. May the gods have mercy on my soul for the crushing I did to it this day.

                        

Portions of the boardwalk are closely hedged in with thick scrub, while others are shaded over with towering mossy oaks and cypress. In between are openings where storms raged through and snapped everything off at a certain height, leaving many convenient pedestals for swampy birds one might expect. 

Green Herons here are very sensitive, and will flush from their conspicuous perches, loudly and with great complaining, no matter how careful one is. Green Heron in NC is a bird of righteous indignation. I am still used to pond-loving Green Herons in Phoenix, which were largely inured to people and highly crushable. 

Bluebirds and Cardinals also enjoy the open perches, and apparently disregard any notions of compartmentalized aesthetics. They seemed out of place.
For shame generic passerines, you are not of the swamps, but of the yards, lawns, and fences.

 

Possessing both strong aesthetics and habitat integrity, the Prothonotary Warbler is boardwalk perfection.



There was a family group of 3 birds foraging back and forth across swamp. Too good. The GCSP boardwalk is the best place I know of for crushing Proths, and by extension it is the best place for crushing Proths that are crushing moths...or dragonflies, etc.

I was also treated to the thick and resonant percussion of a Pileated trifecta. Upon hearing the unmistakably drumming I waited with uncharacteristic patience until they worked their way closer to the boardwalk. Large, powerful, transitionally ornithischian...Pileated Woodpeckers have a powerful impact on trees and people alike. 

I know PIWOs inhabited/inhabit areas that Ivory-billed could not, as well as similar old swamp. It's still curious to me that Ivory-bills are all but gone entirely and Pileated are doing decently well. Is that because most swamplands now are the result of preservation since the 1960s, after it was too late for IBWOs? Did IBWOs have other reproductive difficulties? Why didn't Teddy Roosevelt save them?

With crushy Warblers, big Woodpeckers, a snapping turtle, anoles, and other goodies, the boardwalk at GCSP is it's own micro hotspot. With the exception of a few migrants, the expected species here is pretty set and limited, but until I can get the skills and strategy up to par for other habitats of potential, it's Boardwalk 4 Tha Win.

Bogged Down Birding

Kicking off the new year I went one a pilgrimage to the Sax Zim Bog, perhaps the most singular northern birding mecca in the continental U.S. This was unfamiliar territory for me, territory I did not have a lot of time to cover but territory that nonetheless held massive lifer potential. 

I'll admit, I had also fallen away from the fold a bit, with work, social, and soccer demands substantially cutting into my birding time fall of 2015. The birding gods, they notice these things, and in their caprice they will make one pay for time not spent and homage not given. That is, of course, the only explanation as to why I didn't see the big owls. Also, look at the Gray Jay photo below. See something wrong with it? Exactly, that sky is blue, and no sensible boreal Owl will be perching out in that pleasantness, and it was super pleasant all of day one.



  

The Sax Zim Bog is also huge and necessitates vehicular birding for the most part, with a few areas and feeder stations being pedestrian friendly. Spending hours in 1st gear looking for perched owls can get somewhat tiresome if the Owls aren't around (and as I mentioned before, the two days we were there no one had any reported sightings), which made the brief excursions into the cold and snow, ironically, a welcome respite.

Black-capped Chickadees were exceedingly numerous, as one would expect, with their abhorrent cuteness masking their dynamic tungsten tonka toughness. Chuck Norris really has very little in terms of tough on a BCCH and their ilk. We also caught small flock of Pine Grosbeaks on the second day, giving me second looks at this species and a first experience with the males. It was too cold for my face to regular melt, but the intense coloration of these birds caused rapid sublimation and instead most of my face transitioned straight to a gaseous state and is still suspended somewhere over Lake Superior.

Also numerous were Common Redpolls, a belated lifer, including one pretty good candidate for the existentially crisised Hoary Redpoll. Knowing this bird was likely going to disappear from lists (which I totally agree with, btw), I didn't stress about it too much. Common is good enough for me.

Snow Buntings provided another nifty lifer, arguably cooler but also less accommodating than the COREs. Mud Buntings or Gravel Buntings might be more suiting monikers for their habitat preferences. Failing to capture closer shots or flight shots of these birds was a substantial point of sadness. Despite my preferences they did not allow for approach whatsoever. Snoots.

Since we weren't picking up the vibe from the SZ Bog by midday on day two, the Iowa Voice and I headed back to the Duluth suburbs in pursuit of Bohemian Waxwings. We struck out on those nomads, but while pausing to have consolidation beers that we had to open ingeniously with a tire iron, we were treated to a Sharp-tailed Grouse clumsily feeding on sapling buds.
I got out of the car to see if this bird would be approachable and sunk to my waste in snow, so that was the end of that.

I had to catch and evening flight back to Phoenix from the Twin Cities, which left us with a few hours for birding on the last day. Given our lack of luck in the SZ Bog and the presence of Gyrfalcons and Snowies in Superior, WI, we elected to work these southern spots. We had also chased these birds the preceding evenings without luck.
We tried for White-winged Crossbills near the Park Point strip, where some pine barrens jut out into Superior. Picking up Northern Shrike was dandy, but the drive out onto this isthmus cost us more time than we anticipated.

We drove unconscionably fast back along the one-lane road, but no amount of hurry is worth passing a Pileated Woodpecker, even if it is simply getting friendly with a utility pole. This is, I am ashamed to say, the first photo I've obtained of this species.

As I mentioned in previous posts, fortified patience was lacking on my end during this trip. We resolved to wait out of the Gyrfalcon first, since Snowy-chasing was erratic. The Gyr was sighted consistently in this industrial area every day...at some point throughout the day. The distance and conditions worsened our circumstances in that we did not have a spotting scope, but after about an hour and a half we finally spied the menacing blob atop some grainery equipment.

Like Ivory Gull, this was not a bird I had been expecting to see during this trip or really in the near future at all. Maybe the universe was just keeping its equilibrium in denying us the Owls while providing these vagrants. Fortunately I can make my way back to this area with more regularity than a vagrant, and I shall have my sweet snowy satisfaction--and no I'm not exclusively talking about snow cones, but they will be a factor.
Gyrfalcon was an awesome lifer with which to wrap up this quick trip. With more time and patience, this is a trip I will make again, or one much like it. Watch your backs, boreal birds.