Burned But Never Burnt Out

Ah, the joys and pains of the beach...

Perhaps for an Arizonan or desert dweller, it holds a special allure. We experience the heat and the sun, unrelenting and beating in their power, but do not enjoy the cool salty breezes or the undulating reprieve of the tides, nor for that matter do we get particularly good seafood. Despite the Florida beaches fulfilling everything one needs is a nice beach, except maybe for seclusion, I was horribly cut on the double-edged sword that is beaching and beach birding.

Despite the plethora of great birding that beaches provide, they also have an enervating effect. After a few hours of chasing peeps along the shoreline and making all manner of muscular poses, the soporific effect of sun and sea cannot be denied. But on the beach too much of this:

Leaves one with this (serious erythema solera):

Which prompts days of this:

Followed by a humiliating week of this: (his feathers are molting/peeling off)

Such was the case on the second day into our Florida trip, when I sustained massive sunburn of the torso from a combination of photographing Sanderlings, Gulls, and White Ibis, and then injudiciously mooching off a reclining beach chair form the nearby Ritz Carlton resort and falling asleep without any protection.
Oh, the crippling pain, and then oh, the crippling peeling. Everywhere I walked afterwards, my skin left behind a lovely trail of snowy dermis. Anyway, the sunburn faded, but the bird sightings and photos remain, so it was a long term victory.

Despite their very variable stages of molt, Sanderlings are one of the most recognizable and beloved sights of a proper beach, even by non-birders. Their anxious antics provide endless angst and amusement to passersby. While all of the other creatures come to the beach and indulge in the water, Sanderlings will never fully commit.
Surely, no bird feels as though it walks the narrow line between life and death as the Sanderling.

Though many of the Sanderlings had left for their high tundra breeding grounds, We still saw dozens at all of the different beaches we visited in early May. I suspect many of these birds won't even bother to make the trip this year. It's just...so much work, and after all you're supposed to go to Florida to retire.

What do you think? Does this look like a bird that's about to leave of a 6,000 mile migration? Nah, they'll just nap it out. Breeding can wait.

One of the top Florida Goal Birds was the White Ibis. It sounds like a superhero or something, and they are a pretty spectacular bird even without any super powers. A curious creature, it's a pretty big deal when they turn up outside of the Gulf coast/Florida area, but within that locale they turn up in parking lots, golf courses, backyard irrigation ditches, and any marshy areas in between. They really live up to the designation of 'locally' common.'

As such, they're not always in the most photogenic places, but they can be found on the beaches as well, inspiring the Sanderlings with their stalwart immersion in the ravenous tide.

Although I saw several dozen White Ibis around the Naples area, none were so accommodating as this bird. We spent significant time together, during which it foraged quite contentedly and I received a strong blasting of ultraviolet light. When we began the shoot, my complexion matched the White Ibis's alabaster body, but by the end I more closely matched to hue of its face and legs.

It was a very meticulous forager, wielding that large beak with great precision, even as waves broke all around it, showing the Sanderlings how it's done:

Salty spray, it's invigorating!

Did you know that White Ibises have a matching white eyelid? I did not.

To be fair, the White Ibis wasn't the only bird bravely foraging within the water's break line.
With the sand being so fine, the few Ruddy Turnstones had a hard time finding ruddy stones to turn, but they gulped down the many tiny bivalves that were exposed with every wave.

Before my wife and I headed out to the Pelican Beach area, I spent several hours at the famous Corkscrew Swamp observatory. Look forward to that post later this week.

Happy Memorial Weekend.

Gull-ible at Barnegat Bay

As a part of my Pennsylvania trip earlier this June, I made a rare visit to the east coast. The prospect of doing some birding along  the New Jersey shore was very exciting, even if we weren't heading to Cape May or some of those other famous sites. We set our sights on lovely Barnegat Bay, a strip of beach with beautiful scenery and, as it turned out, a few birding treasures of its own. Since I had only been to the Atlantic coast a few times, the prospects of seeing some new and cool birds were great. The Jersey shore did not disappoint, and in fact it exceeded my expectations. Even before I arrived at the beach, we started to see new birds, with sentinels such as this handsome Laughing Gull dotting utility poles along the road.

We saw Gulls high atop the famous old Barnegat Lighthouse and soaring along the coastal thermals. We also saw them along the lowest points of the Barnegat wharf and shoreline, sometimes in very compromising positions. Gulls can live high and they can live low. You don't become one of the most successful avian groups without making a few compromises.

The Seagull is often used as a symbol for freedom and versatility in literature. Most appropriately for birders, it can represent the unattainable ideal, something you want but can never possess. Keeping in mind the different plumages and vast ranges many Gulls have, as well as the propensity for many Gulls to turn up in unexpected places, I think Gulls embody the frustration and excitement of an unattainable ideal very well.  Especially for a non-coastal person like me, almost every Gull is a potential new bird, but they're so often ambiguous and identifying them is seldom a certain thing. Here, to make the point, are some mid-cycle Ring-billed Gulls. Or at least I think. Maybe Herring Gulls? Maybe not. They could also be space aliens.

Maria and I counted four different species of Gull along the Barnegat shore. The Laughing Gulls were by far the most visually striking and the most graceful of the bunch. Seagulls are pretty talented aviators, but the way that the Laughing Gulls rose and cut and dove almost put them in the Tern and Kite class of flyers. They had serious skills.

The Laughing Gulls were most comfortable in the air, and unlike the other Gulls, I never saw them on the ground. Conversely this third/fourth year Herring Gull seemed to abhor the very idea of flight. Even as I approached it, the bird started to walk out into the ocean instead of taking to its wings. I've seen some impressive flight displays from Herring Gulls and Ring-bills before, so this one must've just been pretty tuckered, or else it was just really wanted to soak its feet.

The Herring Gulls were the most numerous on our stretch of the Jersey beach, and they were visible in the air on the ground, floating atop the water, and popping into trash cans along the peer. Bulky, large, noisy, common, versatile, and semi-indestructible...surely this is the quintessential 'Seagull'.

It is often said that cockroaches and rodents would be the sole survivors of a nuclear holocaust. I'm putting my money on the Herring Gull. This is the cold calculating stare of a bird that can be caught at the epicenter of an atomic explosion and fly away wondering what's for dinner.

The most impressive Gull on the beach was, by far, the Great Black-backed. Their range in North America may be only a tiny fraction of the Herring or Ring-billed Gulls' range, but with a wingspan well over five feet, this bird more than compensates.

The Great Black-backed is the largest Gull in the world. The few that we saw at Barnegat Bay cruised low and slow along the beach, confident in their size and the proper awe they inspired in all whom they passed.

Folding in those wings must be a bit of a chore (I can sympathize too). This Gull held its pose for a little while, so maybe they were just telling me that they were tired of being spied on, and were pointing me in the direction of other cool stuff to see. 

"Go bother those Oystercatchers over there"

As I moved beyond the shoreline and out onto the rocky wharf around the bay, I realized that the awesome birding was just beginning. I already related the story of the Purple Sandpipers, and there are still many cool birds to come! 

A Dilly-Dally in Dallas

I spent this past weekend in Dallas, Texas. While the express purpose of this trip was not birding, I was certainly hoping to fit some in on Saturday. I had all my gear together and my routes planned out and my extra pair of socks and then...I remembered to check the weather. Dallas weather has a love-hate relationship with me, in that it loves to make me hate it. I was pretty dismayed to check the weather and see that Dallas would be getting it's Thor on, with thunderstorms predicted for most of Saturday. Even so, I grabbed an old buddy from college, Taylor Butler (how appropriate) Posey, and made him drive me out to Cedar Hill State Park for some overcast observing.

I logged seven new bird species for my life list, though to be fair most of the species were birds I had previously observed--Common Grackles, Chimney Swifts, American Crows, Ruby-Throated Hummingbirds--stuff that, statistically, I must've seen, but wasn't recording at the time. These common birds were just the tip of the iceberg, and even though we were forced back into the car during a typical twenty-minute Dallas downpour, we had a lot of other great sightings.

The trip down to Cedar Hill State Park is a nifty drive, and along the Hwy 408 roadside we encountered one of the first signs that we weren't in Arizona anymore (other than the gratuitous rain). There were three cattle grazing in an adjacent field, and three Cattle Egrets grazing next to them. I'd seen Cattle Egrets in Texas before, but never next to cattle. It's great when a bird lives up to its namesake. I was hoping one would perch on the cow, but that would've been too much.

We didn't prepare much of a bird list for this trip, but Painted Buntings were definitely at the forefront. That being said, I wasn't very optimistic about our chances. I was mostly hoping just to get some good looks at the old Dallas regulars, but the Buntings were always at the back of my mind. Before heading into the state park, we parked at the Cedar Hill Audubon Center and walked the quick loop outside the building. The very first bird we saw, singing atop a soggy tree, was this lovely male.

With the heavy cloud cover, the bird's shyness, and their preference for staying high and singing or hiding in the thick hedges, the photographic opportunities were poor, but we did see near a dozen Buntings throughout the day. Success! What a preposterously colored bird! Who do they think they are, bringing tropical style colorations into the Texas plains!? The binocular looks were much better than the photos indicate. These birds are stunning.

After checking out the Audubon center we drove down to the nearby Cedar Hill Lake. The recent rain had really filled out the foliage. There were Cardinals all over, and we also had good looks at Carolina Wrens, Carolina Chickadees, Blue Jays, and Titmice. There were more Painted Buntings too, and we chased after these bodacious beauties with reckless abandon. Alas, the viscous Dallas clay was really starting to accumulate on our shoes, and as the rain came down with gusto.

Trying to walk with this thick, congealing mud is like walking in scuba flippers: comical but ineffective. We scraped off as best we could and headed back to the car.

Even my birding buddy Taylor, a rugged mountain man by all accounts, was in awe of the energetic earth.

Luckily for us, Cedar Hill Park has a paved road running a loop around the trails and the lake. We were able to clean off our shoes, grab some Sonic lunch, and then go into safari mode, getting some excellent birding done from the car. Birds weren't the only thing on display either. This Texas Brown Tarantula (?? let me know if not) was taking its time to cross the street.

Getting out of the car to take its picture, I faced certain death from ol' shelob. Luckily, I had a little crystal bottle full of illuminating elf water that kept the spider at bay. That's good photography fundamentals 101: always have mythical creature repellent available on your person. 

As we continued our loop, stopping to observe some Spotted Sandpipers and Red-Winged Blackbirds, a single Ring-Billed Gull showing off its fishings skills.

There were lots of Franklin's Gulls and Mallards floating on the lake, but only this Ring-Billed Gull dared to fly in the adverse conditions. It was rewarded for its bravery, as were we. From afar, we watched it catch fish after fish. It didn't have quite the grace or power of an Eagle or Osprey, but hey ya can't argue with the results.

To put some icing on this seagull fish cake (eww!) this was a new bird for me. They turn up in Arizona from time to time, but it was great to add another new bird in Dallas. From the small and colorful Painted Buntings in their bramble bushes to the large and dull Ring-Billed Gull out over the water, we saw both ends of the birding spectrum.

The most iconic Texas bird for me, and one of my all-time favorites, is the Scissor-Tailed Flycatcher. This was the bird I longed to see the most. This was the bird that holds the fondest memories of Texas birding for me. Though not as numerous as the Kingbirds, they're still a fairly common sight in Dallas during spring. One of my main goals from this birding escapade was to come away with some good photos that did these awesome birds justice. I was bummed about the overcast conditions and then by the birds' initial shyness. Any sort of approach seemed to startle them away. : ::sniffle:: : it was like they didn't even recognize me. Calls of, "Hey guys! It's me, Laurence!!" didn't help at all.

But perseverance is the name of the game. While birding in 'safari mode' (from the car), we spotted a mated pair of Flycatchers near one of the fenced pull-outs by the lake's south shore. The grey weather put these usually-vivacious birds in a melancholy mood, but they were mercifully accommodating as we pulled in for a photo shoot.

Yep, his tail is pretty long. I snuck this male's picture while he stared forlornly out into the lake, perhaps with a wistful wish that his tail could actually slice things. This is just the beginning of my Scissor-Tail shots, most of which I'll save for a further post.

Logging new birds is always exciting, but the best part of this birding trip was reacquainting myself with old Texas regulars. Western Kingbirds can be commonly found anywhere west of the Mississippi, and Phoenix is no exception. In Dallas, I became very familiar with these birds in the spring time. They would adorn the trees and posts around soccer fields, parks--any open space with a bit of green--and were much more brazen than the Kingbirds in Arizona. I have more shots of the Kingbirds that I'm saving for a separate post. These regal ravagers-of-the-bugs share posts with no one...