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). 

Grab a Corkscrew and Drink It Up!

Florida is a super birdy place, like unfairly birdy. It's the only state with records of all the North American herons and egrets, it gets plenty of the east coast warbler migrations, it has its own endemics, plenty of cool raptors, vireos, solid sparrows, terrific terns, and Masked Duck. 

Located on the southern half of the gulf coast, the Naples area isn't the birdiest in Florida, but it still has some hot spots, and one of the most well known is the Corkscrew Swamp Audubon Sanctuary. 

This lovely preserve hosts several different habitats, including cedar forests--a diminishing habitat--that host breeding pairs of Wood Stork earlier in the winter. The cedar woods grow adjacent to pine woods, something that, as an Arizonan, it's weird to see when not above 5,000 feet elevation, and of course there's plenty of marshy mush all around.

The pristine foliage at this preserve was remarkable, but that didn't make it easy birding. When I arrived around 7am, the woods were echoing with calls, but many of them were unsurprisingly foreign. High canopies, adverse lighting, and continual cloud cover exacerbated the difficulties of looking for little birds in big woods, though I must admit that birding in the shade was a nice change.

The most dominant sound of all, by far, was that of the Carolina Wren. With so many of the other birds staying high in the canopies, they were also, somewhat oddly, the most visible birds and were consequently the most numerous species I counted during my time at Corkscrew. Photographing the flighty buggers was tricky in the shade, but their numbers meant the odds were in my favor and eventually one perched in a sunnier spots, and did so very nicely.

That particular Carolina Wren just happened to fly in and land only a few feet away from me. It was a welcome relief to my eyes, which were otherwise being tasked to discern the small birds in this mess. I know I must be sounding pretty meek here, but birding in the thick forest really is a different skill, and one with which I have precious little practice.

Audio birding was terrific for getting ticks, but coming to a new place is only satisfying with some solid sightings too. In the hopes of seeing Barred Owl, I was constantly scanning the mossy overhangs above me, never turning up the Owls but seeing several of the handsome and Arizona-uncommon Red-shouldered Hawks. The tales that people bring back from birding in Costa Rica or Peru are marvelous, and maybe the absurdly high amounts of absurdly colorful birds there breaks through the jungle, but honestly my confidence in birding those sorts of places is shot after struggling in the Corkscrew cedar.

The twisting boardwalk teemed with other life, as many insects (non-biting for the most part), reptiles, and amphibians all made their presence known. Scurrying anole lizards and clinging tree frogs were lovely decoration during the trip, and some larger aquatic lizards attentively loomed in the duckweed off the boardwalk. How many wee gators do you see?

While taking a break in the gatorhood, I was able to snap off the only Warbler shot I came away with during the trip (crushing disappointment!). Of course, it had to be a Warbler I've seen and photographed in Arizona already. There isn't any avoiding it; I'll just have to go to Ohio some May and do the warblering right.

One section of the Corkscrew boardwalk leads out of the dense cedar marsh and into the thinner Florida pines. Of course, this different habitat supported different birds, and here I was able to pick up some lifers with relative ease. A calling Great-crested Flycatcher was a great start. 

Chittering Pine Warblers and Brown-headed Nuthatches were great continuations, particularly because the brown-helmet pygmy completed my North American Nuthatch section.

The Red-shouldered Hawks were second only to Osprey as the most common raptor in the Naples area, and at Corkscrew Swamp they were the most numerous. Seeing some fly-over Swallow-tailed Kites was a one-off treat, but being up close to the Red-shouldereds was really enjoying the home-feild advantage that birding in Florida brings.
--Home Field Advantage: noun; seeing a bird in it's preferred/best/most usual habitat, such that one gets more and better views (and photos) than one gets seeing the same species of bird as a vagrant in other areas. Example: "Traveling to Florida gives the Arizonan a great Home Field Advantage for Red-shouldered Hawks and Northern Parula, which turn up in Arizona but are often skittish and a total pain to pursue.  

A full day's agenda necessitated a relatively short visit to Corkscrew, but on the way out there were plenty of birds to see and shoot in the parking lots spaces, where the thick palm and elm groves gave way to green lawns. Here the Black Vultures did Vulture things.

And Common Grackles did Grackle things. I know, it's in bad taste to include a Common Grackle in a bird post, but it was a lifer for me okay so, like, leave it alone!

Do you recognize these primaries?



A young Loggerhead Shrike was the last bit of icing on the swamp cake.

Coincidentally enough, there were a few Woodstorks feeding in one of the many road-side drainage canals while driving to Corkscrew Swamp, but it was too late in the year to expect any in their roosts. Despite the sore neck and lack of Storks, it was a solid tally for Corkscrew Swamp (unsurprisingly) and a great lesson in practice and adaptation for an outsider like myself.