Arroyo Colorado Riverblog

and the Winner Is...

2012-01-01T09:34:00.007-06:00

Drumroll, please: . . . First Yard Bird of the Year Honors for 2012 go to . . .

a Rufous Hummingbird!

The weather was warm, humid, and overcast at 7:30 this morning when I stepped onto the front deck to snap a picture of this little guy, using a flash because the light was still dim. It was making a racket, as Rufous hummers do, and fending off a Buff-bellied Hummingbird (last year's winner) from both the sugar-water and the first-bird accolades.

A challenge is possible from the neighborhood Great Horned Owls who WHO-WHOOed their way through the night starting at midnight as fireworks and gun shots (remember this is Texas) announced the new year. So I guess I'll qualify my announcement by saying this is the first bird SEEN in the yard this year.

A front has arrived in the last hour bringing north winds. Though temperatures are still near 70, they'll drop a bit before too long. Even if the birds start hiding out from a blustery wind, I've already marked 30 species for 2012 and my first day goal of 50 is possible. I'll post the official 2011 list, as promised, later in the day--after I watch the yard awhile. I love new years and new beginnings when every bird can be ticked off the list. It's not that I'm only interested in the tick, of course. I'm much more a backyard birdwatcher than a bird lister. But games and competition with myself are still fun.

214 Yard Birds in a year isn't bad, but I'm aiming higher and checking my list already. Who knows what a new day and new year might bring?

Goodbye to 2011, a very good year!

2011-12-31T23:09:00.007-06:00

I'm alternately watching the New Year's celebrations on television and watching the Arroyo out my window. It's another half-hour until midnight, and I don't want to miss the last bird of the year--or the first of 2012.

Just now two Black Skimmers flew by, close to the water near the opposite bank (skimming, of course), their white breasts and underwings reflecting in the water that is lit by fishing lights. I'm trying to decide if I'll wait until daylight to look for the first bird of the year so that I can take a photo of it. Last year a Buff-bellied Hummingbird had the honors and a Yellow-throated Warbler was a close second. On January 1, 2010 (my first day of blogging) an Altamira Oriole was the first bird of the year with a Great Kiskadee its runner-up.

I've been checking my 2011 Yard List and unless I've left something out, I count 214 birds seen in/from the yard this year. That's 29 more than last year! I'll double check tomorrow and post the results then.

This has indeed been a great year of birding in the yard. A spectacular spring migration (29 species of warblers!) and an unusual number of first-time-ever birds boosted the list. This fall/winter we've seen Northern Flickers, Sage Thrashers, a Brown Thrasher, and more Anna's Hummingbirds, all species that seldom migrate or winter here.

This bird, a Common Grackle, is anything but common here. It was one more first-ever-yard-bird in this unusual winter. Smaller than our Great-tailed Grackles, three of these guys showed up at the feeder in early December.

White-crowned Sparrows are among the birds here in larger than usual numbers this winter.

Conversely, the familiar wintering Lincoln's and Savannah Sparrows are not.

I'm especially happy that American Robins have stopped by this winter. Growing up in Oklahoma, I thought this cheerful bird must be the most common yard bird everywhere--but here in South Texas it's a bird that often doesn't make the year's yard list.

The most welcome visitors to our home on the Arroyo this winter are of course our family who were here for the holidays--our son and daughter and their families. I'm going to replace the usual bird photos in this post with family ones. Some of them were taken by my granddaughter Sadie.

Everyone likes the chair by the window. More eyes on binoculars (how many pairs of the latter do you see in this picture?) means more birds are possible. A few years ago our son spotted a Golden Eagle from the window. This visit's raptors were limited to kites, hawks, and ospreys--but who can complain about that?

It's never too early to start viewing birds from the window. Jacey is the youngest at not quite two. She follows the lead of her siblings, uncle, and grandmother as she looks out on the yard and river. (I'm not sure if her eyes are open or not!)

Our mild weather means the middle generation can teach grandchildren to fish from the dock even in the depth of winter. Little Jacey Joy is a first time fisherman; Lily is getting really good at casting. )

Sadie continues to take photos of birds, cousins, and neighborhood cats

and Papa continues to take Sadie and the twins (and everyone else) for boat rides on the river.

Among Sadie's best pictures are those of Katie and Mitchell standing by to throw life buoys if needed.

Oldest grandson Caleb paddles a kayak while his younger siblings and cousins are out with Papa.

Second grandson Spencer usually catches the most fish and is proud of them all--no matter the size or attractiveness (or lack thereof). This, I think, is a sheepshead that hangs around the pilings of the dock.

Picking up grapefruit from the yard instead of at the grocery store is a special treat to girls from Missouri.

Night fishing from the dock is especially fun when the underwater lights draw in speckled trout.

Holidays are fun but exhausting if you try to fit boating, fishing, and playing with cousins into short winter days.

So we are waving goodbye to 2011, a very good year. As minutes count down, I count our blessings--and the birds and grandchildren we welcomed into our yard and the Arroyo Colorado.

Postscript: Here's the promised Yard List. In 2011 we added eight birds (Anna's Hummingbird, Bonaparte's Gull, Townsend's Warbler, Cape May Warbler, White-crowned Sparrow, Northern Flicker, Sage Thrasher, Common Grackle) to the total yard list (1996-present), making the count 274! (Our 2010 list can be found in a December '10 post here.) The 2012 list will be in the sidebar and I’ll update it during the year.

Baughman Yard List: 2011

Arroyo City, Texas

214 Species of Birds

Black-bellied Whistling Duck, Greater White-fronted Goose, Canada Goose, Mottled Duck, Blue-winged Teal, Northern Shoveler, Lesser Scaup, Ruddy Duck, Plain Chachalaca, Wild Turkey, Northern Bobwhite Quail, Pied-billed Grebe, American White Pelican, Brown Pelican, Neotropic Cormorant, Double-crested Cormorant, Anhinga, Great Blue Heron, Great Egret, Snowy Egret, Little Blue Heron, Tricolored Heron, Reddish Egret, Cattle Egret, Green Heron, Black-crowned Night-Heron, Yellow-crowned Night-Heron, White Ibis, White-faced Ibis, Roseate Spoonbill, Wood Stork, Black Vulture, Turkey Vulture, Osprey, White-tailed Kite, Northern Harrier, Sharp-shinned Hawk, Cooper's Hawk, Harris's Hawk, Red-shouldered Hawk, Broad-winged Hawk, White-tailed Hawk, Red-tailed Hawk, Crested Caracara, American Kestrel, Merlin, Aplomado Falcon, American Coot, Sandhill Crane, Semipalmated Plover, Killdeer, Black-necked Stilt, American Avocet, Lesser Yellowlegs, Willet, Spotted Sandpiper, Upland Sandpiper, Long-billed Curlew, Laughing Gull, Franklin's Gull, Bonaparte’s Gull, Ring-billed Gull, Herring Gull, Gull-billed Tern, Caspian Tern, Royal Tern, Forster's Tern, Sandwich Tern, Least Tern, Black Tern, Black Skimmer, Eurasian Collared-Dove, White-winged Dove, Mourning Dove, Inca Dove, Common Ground-dove, White-tipped Dove, Yellow-billed Cuckoo, Greater Roadrunner, Groove-billed Ani, Barn Owl, Eastern Screech-Owl, Great Horned Owl, Common Nighthawk, Common Pauraque, Chuck-will's-widow, Chimney Swift, Buff-bellied Hummingbird, Ruby-throated Hummingbird, Black-chinned Hummingbird, Anna's Hummingbird, Rufous Hummingbird, Ringed Kingfisher, Belted Kingfisher, Green Kingfisher, Golden-fronted Woodpecker, Ladder-backed Woodpecker, Yellow-bellied Sapsucker, Northern Flicker, Eastern Wood-Pewee, Yellow-bellied Flycatcher, Acadian Flycatcher, Willow Flycatcher, Least Flycatcher, Eastern Phoebe, Great-crested Flycatcher, Brown-crested Flycatcher, Great Kiskadee, Tropical Kingbird, Couch's Kingbird, Western Kingbird, Eastern Kingbird, Scissor-tailed Flycatcher, Loggerhead Shrike, Purple Martin, Tree Swallow, Northern Rough-winged Swallow, Bank Swallow, Cliff Swallow, Cave Swallow, Barn Swallow, White-eyed Vireo, Yellow-throated Vireo, Blue-headed Vireo, Philadelphia Vireo, Warbling Vireo , Red-eyed Vireo, Green Jay, Horned Lark, Black-crested Titmouse, Carolina Wren, Bewick's Wren, House Wren, Ruby-crowned Kinglet, Blue-gray Gnatcatcher, Veery, Gray-cheeked Thrush, Swainson's Thrush, Hermit Thrush, Clay-colored Thrush, American Robin, Gray Catbird, Northern Mockingbird, Brown Thrasher, Long-billed Thrasher, Curve-billed Thrasher, Sage Thrasher, European Starling, Cedar Waxwing, Tennessee Warbler, Orange-crowned Warbler, Nashville Warbler, Northern Parula, Yellow Warbler, Chestnut-sided Warbler, Magnolia Warbler, Cape May Warbler, Yellow-rumped Warbler, Black-throated Green Warbler, Townsend's Warbler, Blackburnian Warbler, Yellow-throated Warbler, Pine Warbler, Bay-breasted Warbler, Blackpoll Warbler, Cerulean Warbler, Black-and-white Warbler, Prothonotary Warbler, American Redstart, Worm-eating Warbler, Northern Waterthrush, Louisiana Waterthrush, Kentucky Warbler, Mourning Warbler, Common Yellowthrush, Hooded Warbler, Wilson's Warbler, Canada Warbler, Summer Tanager, Scarlet Tanager, Olive Sparrow, Chipping Sparrow, Clay-colored Sparrow, Field Sparrow, Lark Sparrow, Savannah Sparrow, Song Sparrow, Lincoln's Sparrow, White-throated Sparrow, White-crowned Sparrow, Northern Cardinal, Pyrrhuloxia, Rose-breasted Grosbeak, Black-headed Grosbeak, Blue Grosbeak, Indigo Bunting, Painted Bunting, Dickcissel, Red-winged Blackbird, Yellow-headed Blackbird, Eastern Meadowlark, Western Meadowlark, Common Grackle, Great-tailed Grackle, Bronzed Cowbird, Brown-headed Cowbird, Orchard Oriole, Hooded Oriole, Bullock's Oriole, Altamira Oriole, Baltimore Oriole, Lesser Goldfinch, American Goldfinch, House Sparrow.

Merry Christmas from the Arroyo Colorado

2011-12-25T22:50:00.002-06:00

We may not have snowy Christmases in South Texas, but our holiday season brings its own joys.

Bougainvillea is at its most beautiful.

White-tailed Kites bask in the winter sun.

Green Jays stop by feeders to eat peanuts and citrus.

Monarch butterflies and colorful bougainvillea are as bright as holiday ornaments.

While we enjoy family and food and holiday traditions, we continue to marvel at the beauty around us.

May your holidays be warm and wonderful!

Good Morning, December!

2011-12-01T11:17:00.003-06:00

Sometimes I'm lucky enough to get a photo that captures a special moment just right. This morning I was up at dawn doing a little window birding. As the sun rose, bathing the river in a pinkish-golden glow, a gull landed right in front of the dock and quickly scooped up a mullet. As it struggled to eat its prey, captured sunlight gleamed from the underside of the gull's wings, reflecting the morning's light onto the ripples of its landing.

I didn't post to the blog during all of November, not because there wasn't fabulous birding here in the yard and elsewhere. In fact, it was probably because there was. We've added new yard birds for the year and for the life of the yard. We experienced another great Rio Grande Birding Festival. We saw life birds on short trips up the Valley.

I'll blog about all those this weekend in a November retrospective. But for now, enjoy this December morning's photos that capture sunrise on the Arroyo Colorado as viewed from my window.

Autumn in South Texas

2011-10-25T19:54:00.002-05:00

Sometimes I take a picture that isn't really good photographically-speaking, but that I like so much I keep looking at it. This is one of those. It's of a late-season warbler--Yellow, I suppose, but in autumn Peterson's references to "Confusing Fall Warblers" still paralyze me.

I was adjusting a hose that dripped into a new water feature I had pieced together out of spare parts when this little guy flittered into the water about six feet from me. I sat down and watched, snapping pictures.

What I like about the photo above is what makes it less than perfect--the focus is fuzzy, especially on the wings. But when the bird was in the water, my eyes certainly couldn't focus on such fast-moving, flittery wings. One foot is focused and one is not: he was shifting his weight like an excited child playing in a fountain. So that is the wallpaper on my laptop right now: a warbler looking precisely like it did for a while to my aging eyes on a really nice autumn afternoon.

Although it is still hot in the afternoons, temperatures usually reaching 90 or above, the birds finally know it's autumn even if we have trouble remembering this far south what autumn means to most of the country.

Wintering warblers such as Yellow-throated, Orange-crowned, and Black-throated Green (above) have arrived. An early (and rarer) Townsend's spent a couple of days.

Ruby-crowned Kinglets (cheerfully busy little winter birds that, like warblers, don't generally pose for pictures) seemed to fill the oak trees after a mild front blew in last week.

Indigo Buntings (which have been a little late showing up, not even appearing for the Big Sit) are here in fairly large numbers. Some will stay the winter but most are already moving on.

Wintering sparrows have returned as well.

A Lincoln's sparrow enjoyed the new solar fountain.

Another sign of autumn here in the Rio Grande Valley are migrating Monarch butterflies, a few of which are passing through now on their way to Mexico. This picture, like the one of the Yellow Warbler in the bath, shows unfocused wings that are fluttering too fast for my point-and-shoot camera. I like the way the motion shows in the photographs.

But the surest sign of autumn is the music that filled the air early yesterday morning, and again today, a rolling, liquid sound that I could hear even inside, even when the windows were shut and the air-conditioner was on--Sandhill Cranes in the hundreds calling as they returned to the warmth of south Texas, calling me outside to enjoy our version of autumn.

This photo is also less than perfect--much less--but that's okay. The sun was just lighting a perfect fall morning, south Texas style, and hundreds of Sandhills filled the skies in waves of V's that just kept coming. We may not have autumn leaves or even cool temperatures, but we do have subtle changes that are just as cherished.

Postscript: Next Morning-- Again the waves of Sandhills called me outside. This time I made a video.

Sitting Pretty in the Rio Grande Valley

2011-10-14T11:38:00.006-05:00

Midnight on the Arroyo: night-hawks swooping, pauraques calling,

Eastern Screech-owls, Barn Owls, and Great Horned Owls
can be heard and sometimes seen in the night yard.

skimmers skimming; three species of owls, two of night-herons. Our Big Sit day was still night when I started tallying species from the upstairs back porch that was within our 17-foot circle. The river glowed from full-moonlight and fishing lights focused on its almost-still surface, providing just enough illumination to begin the count.

Every October, teams of birders gather at favorite birding spots to count the number of species seen or heard from a 17-foot circle in a 24-hour period, midnight to midnight. Most wait for daylight, but I always like to get a headstart since I'm sitting at my own window.

Rules for a Big Sit are easy: sit or stand in a 17-foot circle and count the different bird species you see. You can leave the circle and come back, but you count only those birds you see from the circle. The trick to a high count is to draw your circle near a variety of habitats, where you have clear view of sky, brush, and water and where man-made or natural habitats draw birds close enough to identify and mark on your list.
The Arroyo Colorado Audubon Society team tallied species again this year in my favorite place, our yard on the Arroyo Colorado. We were hoping to beat last year’s count of 86 species. (I know the Sit, sponsored by Birder's Digest, is billed as “noncompetitive,” but you really can’t take the competition out of birding, even if you’re only competing with yourself. Or with the birding group 40 miles upriver at Estero Llano Grande State Park—who beat us last year by one bird.)

I like to start a Big Sit at midnight, not just because I’m competitive (really, I’m not) but also because it’s one of the loveliest times for birding along the Arroyo. As soon as I step onto the porch, I hear Great Horned Owls hoo hoo-ing from one side of the yard to the other. I hear Screech Owls trill and Pauraques pu-wheeer!-- a circle of sound that seems visible.

As I watched the night river, Black Skimmers flew buoyantly just over the water’s surface, wingbeats steady, dipping down to skim the surface with a long lower mandible. The glow of the river illuminated the birds' silver-white breasts and underwing while the dark back and upper wings faded into the dark.

Across the river, barely visible unless I use binoculars to gather what light there is, a juvenile Yellow-crowned Night-heron peered from a low branch at the river’s edge. Longish legs and neck stretched toward the water, distinguishing it from the more numerous juvenile Black-crowned Night Herons that fished nearby. The crisp black and white of adult Black-crowned Night Herons stood out starkly against the shades of gray that blurred the river and bank.

Black-crowned Night Heron

Not far from a wading Great Blue Heron, a small white heron fished alone, a juvenile Little Blue: its feet not the gold of a Snowy Egret’s (which even in this gray world of the nighttime river bank would appear a lighter shade against the dark legs), but the same grayish green as its legs. Its beak was slim and pointed. I'd been looking for this Little Blue Heron, which for a week had been fishing right there, usually just before and just after dark. I never know if the birds I see everyday before a Big Sit will appear on Big Sit day, but right on schedule this one showed.

By dawn, several other Arroyo Colorado Audubon Society members had arrived to join the Big Sit at the house, parking on the road and walking up the driveway past the bird baths and feeders that could be seen from the circle through the open garage door. (No, I didn't stay up all night watching and listening, but I was up by 6:30 to greet more sitters and morning birds.)

Looking opposite the drive to the back yard, some of the Big Sitters kept an eye on the fence line across the river, a favorite perching place for many kinds of birds. Among the avian sitters were a Blue Grosbeak, Lark Sparrow, Groove-billed Anis, Red-Shouldered Hawk, Turkey Vultures, and a Ringed Kingfisher.

Getting a good count on Big Sit day sometimes depends on the weather, both on that day and for the previous week or so. For example, last year ducks, geese, Sandhill Cranes, and White Pelicans were already flying over the yard by the 2nd week of October. This year the hot weather seems to have delayed them a bit. Only the resident Black-bellied Whistling Ducks and a small group of Blue-winged Teal showed up. (A week later, however, I can hear geese flying over as I write this blog.)

On the day of this year's Big Sit the weather was varied, to say the least. It started out clear, but by mid-morning brief rain showers began alternating with sunny skies. Despite intermittent rain, afternoon temps climbed into the mid 90's, where the thermometer had been every afternoon for weeks. We were a little discouraged by then that our bird count was not climbing as well.

Rain didn't keep migrating hummingbirds away from the feeder that hung just inside the circle. Ruby-throated Hummingbirds (as well as a Rufous and Black-chinned) found the feeders even when it was raining. When skies turned blue again, the swarm just increased.

Buff-bellied hummers preferred native Turk's Cap.

A berrying Fiddlewood just outside the circle was a magnet for warring Northern Kiskadees, mockingbirds, and kingbirds. (These birds have not learned to share.) Both Long-billed and Curve-billed thrashers thrashed in the underbrush and sang from the trees.

Our most cooperative bird of the day was a Yellow-billed Cuckoo that posed and preened in a backyard Ash tree, spreading wings out to dry after a shower. (photo by Cheryle Beck)

A mid-afternoon thunderstorm cooled us down, but made it a little harder to see from the windows. By the time skies were blue again, the wind from the north, and temperatures in the high 70's, most sitters had gone home or on to another Big Sit.

Sitters left, but even more birds came out to enjoy the sun. This Ringed Kingfisher, sitting in a tree across the Arroyo, is just one of the three species of kingfishers that fished the river in the late afternoon after everyone else had gone home. Though this isn't a good photograph it is representative of the views we have on a big sit--far away but still exciting as we chase and twitch in the confines of a 17-foot circle.

I sat in the rocking chair and watched the river and sky til dark and beyond. What had started out a slow day ended with a higher count than any of our other years. At the stroke of midnight our list had 91 species of birds. The results are not all posted, but I think we'll be in the top ten again. Even without a Roseate Spoonbill or a Painted Bunting or some of the other birds we missed for the first time, we had a great time and ended with a good list. If I'd never seen or heard another bird after the owls at midnight, those would be enough for me.

The Arroyo Colorado Audubon Society birders have had our Big Sit in our yard three times previously: in 2001 (82 species); 2002 (89 species); and last year (86). All three years we have been among the top ten sites in the nation. We keep hoping to exceed 100 species--I know on a perfect day we could. Some years we have ducks and shorebirds; some years more warblers. Some years we have birders who are good at swallows or far-away fast-moving shorebirds headed for the bay; some years those seem to be nobody's specialties. This year we ended with 91 species even without some common ones like Indigo Buntings or Tri-colored Herons or Pyrrhuloxias (all of those were here on the following day, of course). Next year I'll brush up on far away ducks and faster-than-the-eye-can-see swallows. 100 species isn't impossible.

The "Weslaco Red Crowns" team of Big Sitters who were sitting up the Valley at Estero Llano Grande State Park (a World Birding Center site in Weslaco, Texas), are our friendly rivals. In fact, our teams overlap as birders take part in both counts. This year they beat us (in this noncompetitive competition) by eight for 99 species. 100 eluded them, too, but not by much. Way to go, Red Crowns! If we could combine our lists, we'd beat 100 by at least a couple of dozen.

To me this proves what I already think: the Lower Rio Grande Valley in Texas is the place to be if you love birds, birding, birders. Whether you are at Estero Llano Grande or another state park, a city park, a national wildlife refuge, a World Birding Center satellite site, or someone's backyard--whether you are here in the morning, at noon, or at midnight--you will have a memorable trip if you come to the Valley.

Harlingen's Rio Grande Valley Birding Festival is now less than a month away. Chair Marci Fuller, President Danny Hoehne, and all the other leaders and workers of the RGV Bird Fest are working hard to make this 18th Annual event the best ever. At this week's festival meeting we learned that registrations already exceed those of last year. That's not surprising--the field trips, the seminars, the trade show, the speakers are almost as great as our birds.

I attended the very first RGVBF eighteen ago and can't wait for this one. (The theme for this year's festival is The Big Year. You'll see why if you scope out the website here. )

It's not too late to register for the festival or to make travel arrangements. Anyone who loves birds or nature (or just great Tex-Mex food for that matter!) would love the Rio Grande Valley. Day or night, standing or sitting, the birding is great and the listing is easy. If the weather is not sunny just wait awhile--and in the meanwhile you could sit by my window by the Arroyo Colorado.

Fall Migration, Summer Heat

2011-09-05T23:41:00.001-05:00

A hot south wind ruffled the feathers of the Osprey that perched on the rail of our dock yesterday morning. The day started out hot and just got hotter, 106.9 degrees by mid afternoon.

Still, it was a lovely day for yard birding. Determined to get out there and find some birds despite the heat, I moved my lawn chair to the shade under a cedar elm and waited to see what would show up at the water drippers.

I was rewarded with a two-vireo, four-warbler day, not bad for the hottest day of the summer. This bright yellow beauty is a migrating Prothonotary Warbler. We also had a couple of Kentucky Warblers, several Black and White Warblers, and one or two Canada Warblers.

This Red-eyed Vireo is probably a migrant, too. I almost called it a Yellow-Green Vireo but the dark line at the edge of the gray cap made me say red-eyed though its eye didn't appear red. Yellow-Greens do nest in the Valley, but although this is a bright one, with quite a bit of yellow, I still think that dark edge on the cap is distinctive. I could be wrong.

I heard the White-eyed Vireo several times before this one came to the oak tree just above the bath. It could be a migrant, but I am pretty sure they nest in the area. I had one late in the spring and I have found small nests after breeding season that I am pretty sure are WEVI nests though I haven't seen any birds near them.

Butterflies are still a star attraction in the yard. Yesterday morning I took a photo of this Pipevine Swallowtail visiting a milkweed vine.

Less than a minute after I took the photo above, a Couch's Kingbird alit on a wire overhead. I quickly focused my binocs on his prize. A closer look let me know what he was having for breakfast.

The yard is filled with drama, even early in the morning. Some of its inhabitants are not as lucky as others. I don't know why this kingbird is not repelled by the reported bitter taste of the butterfly, but if you click to enlarge the picture, you can see that it is indeed the swallowtail. I missed a picture of the capture by a few seconds--but the before-and-after photos tell the story.

A cool front this morning changed the wind from south to north and brought in relief from humidity. Today's temperature was a "cool" 95. It's still hot but our autumn birds seem to pay more attention to the calendar than the thermometer. Migration has indeed started.

Slow

2011-09-04T00:41:00.002-05:00

Blogging has slowed down here on the Arroyo Colorado. I'm not taking as many photos. I'm not seeing as many birds. Maybe it's the heat.

This morning I thought I detected a milder morning. The humidity seemed lower. But by about 2:00 this afternoon, I looked at the thermometer and saw it was 101 degrees again. Going outside for awhile to check for migrants, I found a waterthrush that tottered under the brush and then out of sight before I had decided whether it was a Northern or a Louisiana Waterthrush.

Several Eastern Kingbirds, also migrants, perched in the top of a live oak tree next door.

Kingbirds are among my favorite species, especially the Couch's and Tropicals that are here all year. I can't reliably tell them apart unless I hear them -- though the really bright yellow ones seem to be the Couch's which I see most frequently. The crisp black and white of the Eastern Kingbird makes it distinctive and cool-looking even in the heat.

Doves are always numerous at this time of year, but I think perhap this year there are fewer than usual. The drought has probably taken its toll. Today I heard gunshot and the driveway was sprinkled with hunter's pellets when I was out. I hate that. The houses are close together here along the river, and when a neighbor several houses to our east shoots doves from his yard, it rains birdshot here. I can hear it bouncing off our pickup and the next door neighbor's carport. I've even felt it on my arms and legs as I sit on the deck. (If you are thinking this sounds really strange, remember we live in Texas. One year at the start of dove season I complained to the sheriff, but he just told me to stay inside my house until sunset when the shooting would stop.)

White-winged Doves, the hunter's favorite, is also mine--for very different reasons, of course. I love the blue orbital ring and bright pink legs. This photo was taken in the spring when the white-wing's colors are especially bright. At least two pairs nested in our yard this year. Perhaps more as they seem to nest close together in groups.

Inca Doves are also common in the yard. Their soft whirl-pool! whirl-pool! call is the music of summer. My granddaughter Sadie took this photo of an Inca Dove for me to use in my blog. I think she did an especially good job of capturing its soft beauty.

Mourning doves are hunted here as well as the white-wings. Their soft cooing is a haunted, sad song, thus their name. (Some in the area also call the Inca dove a "mourning dove" because they think its song is mournful as well.) I'm always glad, on days when guns mar the natural sounds of a summer afternoon, to see these gentle birds enjoying the water saucers under our live oaks.

The large dove seen frequently waddling up the driveway is the White-tipped dove, another of my favorite yard birds. Its call sounds like the hollow whistling made when you blow over the top of a soda pop bottle. (I realize youngsters like my grandchildren seldom have a chance to make "music" in this way, but I remember the sound from my childhood.)

The sounds of doves, a slow sad song, punctuates the heat of a summer afternoon in a somehow fitting way, but not everything about a summer afternoon is slow-paced. Butterflies abound, flittering with agility and speed that belie the otherwise lazy day.

The blooms of butterfly weed and other milkweed plants attract many kinds of butterflies such as the Black Swallowtail above. Its attraction to the plant is for the nectar, not for its use as a host plant, for this butterfly lays its eggs on parsley or fennel or native wildflowers in that family.

A Black Swallowtail caterpillar munching on parsley

Milkweed is host plant, though, for migrating Monarchs and resident Queen butterflies who lay their eggs on the plants. We had so many Queens this year that a virtual veil of them hovered over the flower beds and fluttered in front of me when I walked by. Caterpillars were so thick on the plants that they stripped the leaves at an alarming rate. (See if you can spot the "hungry, hungry caterpillar" in the photo below, and notice the nubs where leaves used to be. If you look very closely you can see a few eggs on one of the leaves--eggs that never had a chance to hatch. For a better look at a pearly-white, grooved Queen egg, see this post from last year.)

I bought several new large milkweed plants to accommodate the hungry critters, but even those new plants were leafless in a couple of days. Fortunately the leaves grew back quicklyafter I watered several times a day. Now there are fewer caterpillars and butterflies, more of a normal quantity I'd say, and the supply is keeping up with demand, if just barely.

Queen butterflies feed on the nectar of native mistflower. The pink tropical sage is also a favorite food.

I'm wondering if the increase in butterflies corresponds with the increase in mist flower. It certainly seems to be a favorite nectar plant of the Queens. I planted several more of a small native blue mistflower this spring, a kind that blooms all summer. A taller kind is fall-blooming. Though it is already about four feet tall, it is not yet blooming. I never plant it specifically, but there is plenty around. Its tiny seeds are easily scattered by the wind. One waist-high patch has completely taken over a new flower bed that I planted with herbs and perennials this spring. It's now a messy jumble, but I don't mind. Butterflies and birds seem to like my gardens the way they are, though they would probably get me kicked out of any respectable garden club.

I leave the mistflower seed to be scattered about by the wind.

It's dark outside now--and still hot. A heavy humid hot that makes us move slowly even after dark. We just watched snook and catfish slowly circling the underwater fishing lights by the dock. A large shrimp swam by and they didn't even look at it. Even underwater it must feel too hot for moving around much!

I'm hoping for migration activity to pick up soon. I'm not sure if the birds are really slow to come back through on their way south this year or if it's just me being too lazy to go outside. I did start a part-time job last week, teaching a couple of classes at a nearby university, so I'm not getting out there to look at the yard quite as much. Yesterday as I pulled out of the driveway, a flash of gold near the bird baths --a year-round Lesser Goldfinch? A migrating Prothonotary or Yellow Warbler?--made me wish I could stay and watch. But then I got to campus and a small flock of Green Parakeets flying overhead made me glad I was there to hear them.

No matter where you are in the Rio Grande Valley, you'll find the birds--or they'll find you. Slow is relative.

Home and Family

2011-08-07T01:02:00.005-05:00

I feel as if I, like this Green Jay, have been more or less hiding out for the last month or two. She is nesting less than twenty feet from my front deck but so stealthily I didn't even notice the nest until a few days ago--and by then at least two hungry nestlings were stretching their necks out of a nest of intertwined thorny twigs.

The nest is much more flimsy than I would have expected. When looking at it against the late afternoon sun, you can see all the way through it, but it supports at least two chicks and the mother is in it part of the time. I'm not worried that it will fall apart, though, because it is constructed of twigs from native thornscrub that can't be easily dislodged. I've read that Green Jays make rather bulky nests, but this one certainly isn't. I wonder if the thin construction has anything to do with the heat.

The morning before I discovered the nest, these two jays were bobbing up and down on a nearby branch, behaving as young Green Jays often do (though adults do, too--it's just sort of their dance of joy). Two other Green Jays were also flying around in the yard, probably juveniles from an earlier brood. I'm pretty sure the new nest is the summer's second. It was May when I observed nest-building activity with birds carrying twigs toward the neighbor's yard.

Green Jays never seem to do anything quietly, which is why I was surprised to see them nesting undetected so close to the house. I am reminded of the last stanza of an Emily Dickinson poem about robins that sing so insistently in March and April and then seem to disappear on the nest:

The Robin is the One
That interrupt the Morn
With hurried -- few -- express Reports
When March is scarcely on --

The Robin is the One
That overflow the Noon
With her cherubic quantity --
An April but begun --

The Robin is the One
That speechless from her Nest
Submit that Home -- and Certainty
And Sanctity, are best

I took a break from blogging for the last month or so while we were busy with family. We've had a great time with children and grandchildren. The whole family was together at our son's in Missouri in late June and early July, which seems to me kind of like the extended Green Jay family hanging out together. After that about half the family came here for some fishing and trips to the beach. Finally, we headed north again to do a little babysitting with the Texas portion of the clan. Though we weren't watching the arroyo during the time we were away from home, watching our flock was not so different from our usual pursuits.

To stay cool in the summer heat, for example, these two families of grandchildren were as attracted to our son's pool

as this summer's Black-crested Titmice are to the front yard bird bath at home.

A grassy lawn welcomed children playing badminton

and juvenile American Robins,

and a young Cottontail Rabbit.

Watching the antics of the youngest chick was fun for us all. Jacey Joy, with her red hair and bright bathing suit, is at least as colorful as a young Green Jay--and a plastic starfish on her head makes a pretty good crest.

When she tired of badminton,

she could always look through grammy's binoculars.

American Robin

Gray Catbird

(She's not quite able to find a bird through binocs but she's close.)

I especially liked watching Gray Catbirds and American Robins in Missouri when I wasn't watching kids on the lawn or in the pool -- a special treat since those are winter birds for us in South Texas.

Right behind the house we stay in (a hundred-year-old former dairy barn that's been renovated for a guest house) is a lovely patch of native dogwoods and redbuds, a perfect nursery for the just-fledged birds.

It takes a lot to lure us away from home and birds in south Texas, but you can see from these pictures that our grandchildren are an effective lure. We are lucky to have five of them only about six hours away in south central Texas. (They have interesting birds, too. We babysat there for a few days and watched Mississippi Kites soar over the house. I tried to photograph them but never got more than a gray blur.)

Returning home, having to leave children and grandchildren behind in their own nests, is hard on a grandparent. But returning to find a thorny bowl of new Green Jays in our own yard is a treat. I'll watch those little chicks grow each day and think of a great summer visit with my own chicks.

Beyond the Patch: a Boat Trip

2011-06-17T18:11:00.035-05:00

I don't spend every day hanging around my yard. Some days we leave our patch of birds on the banks of the Arroyo and take the boat out on the river to the Laguna Madre. At dawn we leave the dock and ride for about 20 minutes until we get to the bay.

On the way out, we see Roseate Spoonbills, Tricolored Herons, Reddish Egrets and Brown Pelicans flying from rookeries on small islands to their feeding grounds in inlets and along the shores. We smell salty air and meet fishermen returning from overnight trips. Dolphins jump in front of our boat or ride in our wake.

Leaving the mouth of the Arroyo Colorado and crossing the Intercoastal Waterway, we enter shallow water, hoping to find red fish tailing in the "skinny" waters. When we get close to herons stalking prey in water below their bellies, we know it's time to stop the boat and wade. Or at least Brad wades and I stay in the boat unless I've brought my kayak along.

When the sun is still low over the horizon, its brilliant red reminds me of lines from Coleridge's Rime of the Ancient Mariner: "nor dim, nor red, like God's own head, the glorious sun uprist."

On this day we saw no fish in the shallow waters, or at least we didn't catch any, but the beauty of the sunrise made the trip worth it. After exploring other fishing holes briefly, we decided to return to the Arroyo and go upriver looking for tarpon and snook.

I love a sunrise in the Laguna Madre, but the Arroyo is home. If my birding "patch" is my yard, the Arroyo is an extended patch. We boated back toward the west, past Adolph Thomae park, past Arroyo City, past our house.

Roseate Spoonbills flew above us.

Willets fished along the edge of the Arroyo.

A Crested Caracara looked on from his perch in a dead mesquite.

Passing by our house and all the other houses that line the south side of the river, we reach an area where houses disappear and both sides are lined with habitat referred to as "Arroyo Colorado Brush" where dominant trees are Ebony, Coma, and Adelia and brush is thick and thorny. It is really only remnants of such habitat, however, as the land has been cleared for agriculture just beyond the brush along the banks.

But I like boating along the river and imagining a land where nothing has been cleared. The state of Texas protects a portion of it as the Las Palomas Wildlife Management Area where native brush is relatively undisturbed.

The bank pictured above shows fairly thick vegetation, but you can tell it has once been cleared because of the mesquite trees that are typical of disturbed land. Nonetheless, it is perfect habitat for one of my favorite birds. We slow down when we get to this spot and use the trolling motor to move by quietly.

Can you see the excavation in the bank? Perhaps the cavity is an enlarged kingfisher hole. Or perhaps it is a hole made from collapsing dirt around tree roots.

A closer look reveals a ghostly face.

Binoculars (or a zoomed-in camera lens) reveal that tucked into the hole, high up in the bank, is a family of Barn Owls! I can see two down-covered chicks in front of the female in this nest. Others are probably there as well. Barn Owls can have large broods and the mother does a good job of herding her brood back into the cave behind her.

I've seen Barn Owls nesting in boat houses, nest boxes, and barns near the river, but I see them most frequently in these cavities in the banks. Pale and ghostly, they are hard to spot unless you know where to look.

Sometimes I see them fly at night along the river on strong silent wings. The males are lighter in color than the females and their almost white underparts make them look especially like ghosts in the night.

Barn Owls are not the only bank dwellers we saw on the trip upriver. Another favorite pair of river birds announced their presence with loud machine-gun rattling and insistent bobbing up and down from branches overhanging the water: a pair of Ringed Kingfishers courted near their nest holes on the opposite bank.

This photo shows the kingfisher with mouth open and tail cocked, loudly answering the equally loud rattling of its mate perched about 50 feet upriver. Ringed Kingfishers are one of three species of kingfishers here in the Rio Grande Valley. Green Kingfishers, also here year-round, are much smaller and green. The Belted Kingfishers that winter here (the only kingfisher in most of the US) look similar except that they are about three inches smaller and their beaks are not nearly as large.

I wasn't able to figure out for sure which of several holes in the bank belonged to the kingfishers. They seem to like to make extras.

Groove-billed Anis sang in a mesquite tree along the river. Below is a photo of an ani that was banded a week ago in the Las Palomas WMA that borders the Arroyo near where the owl and kingfishers nest. I have volunteered to help with the banding a few times.

At first glance, anis look like grackles, but the beak of course is distinctive, as is their posture and their two-note call. We've been seeing anis on the fence across the arroyo. In years past I've watched them ride on the backs of deer, eating ticks. (I know: yuck! But such interesting things to be seen from the window overlooking the river is the reason my spotting scope never leaves its spot at the back window.)

Another highlight of the trip upriver was a good look at the longest Altamira Oriole nest I have ever seen. It seemed twice as long as the nest Altamira Orioles built this year in our oak tree. Comparing the nest in this photo to the ten-inch oriole that is peering inside, I'm guessing the nest is a minimum of two feet long.

All in all, our boat trip was successful even without catching fish. We love living here on the Arroyo Colorado where a short boat ride extends our backyard beyond its narrow borders.

****************
This is an experiment: I've never posted a video before but I did take one of the Ringed Kingfishers. You can see only one bird in this wobbly movie, but you can hear both of them calling back and forth. Apologies for the poor camera work--but it's so much fun to watch these birds bobbing up and down and to listen to their loud rattling calls that I am posting it anyway. Or at least trying to. Lets hope it works.

Patchwork

2011-06-01T21:13:00.017-05:00

Sometimes it's hard to know when spring migration is over, when the birds in the yard are staying for the summer and the visitors have flown north. Take, for example, the Yellow-billed Cuckoo in the photo above. Is it a late migrant lingering for a few days into June or a summer resident setting up housekeeping? I'm pretty sure it's here to stay, but only time (a few more days) will tell.

And the buntings that took shower baths in the sprinklers yesterday -- are they already nesting close-by? Or are they the tail-end of the bunting parade that comes through the yard every spring?

Painted Buntings are the patchwork quilt of the bird world. Red, green, blue for the male and a lovely green female--I am as excited each time I spot one as I was the first time.

When I first spotted yesterday's Indigo Bunting sitting in shadows in the persimmon tree, I thought it was a female Painted, and I thought just maybe they were a nesting pair. But when I look at the photo I took, the coloring looks more like a female Indigo Bunting. If so, I would guess these to be migrants though it's late in the season.

Again, only time will tell. Sometimes I see both of these species late in the summer. According to my favorite local reference book, Tim Brush's Nesting Birds of the Tropical Frontier, Painted Buntings are uncommon breeders in the Rio Grande Valley.
I've observed young Painted Buntings coming to bird baths in late afternoons during July and August-- though I've never found a nest. Hopefully, these are here to stay for the summer, but probably they just late migrants. Anytime I see a bunting in the yard I count it a special day.

I didn't turn on the sprinkler yesterday specifically to draw the birds in--but it certainly worked to do just that.

I seldom see Brown-crested Flycatchers in the bird baths but they certainly enjoy a shower bath. This one prefers to sit in the persimmon tree letting the sprinkles refresh him.

Across the yard, a male Lesser Goldfinch catches a shower bath from his perch in the bottlebrush tree.

Drops of water from the sprinklers shine in the sun and wash the dust of drought from the butterfly garden. Lesser Goldfinches can often be seen at the baths and sprinklers on hot days when the temps climb near 100.

A Carolina Wren sings from the top of a feeder just out of reach of the water. Now that their young have fledged, they are singing more than ever, and will probably be nesting again soon.

This week, in two different contexts, I encountered a phrase I hadn't heard before: patch birding. Though I hadn't heard of patch birding, I certainly understand the concept: knowing one patch of land well, which birds are there and when to expect them, knowing their songs and their nests. That's what I do-- I'm a patch birder. Who knew there was a term out there that describes me to a "T "?

My patch, of course, is my yard. I know it well and am obsessed with knowing it better. It's not large, probably less than a third of an acre, only fifty feet across and several times as long, bordering the Arroyo Colorado on the back (and beyond that thorny scrub and then farmland) and a cotton/sorghum field across the "farm-to-market" road in the front. I bird my patch every day, walking the drive, sitting in the yard or on a deck or on the dock, peering in the trees and shrubs to see what nests have been constructed when I wasn't looking. (Those birds can be very sneaky about building a nest, even when a patch birder has been patrolling the patch.)

So what else (besides shower baths from the sprinkler in our rainless yard) is going on in my patch this week?

Northern Kiskadees are still in their nest in the Ebony tree, busily going back and forth feeding young that are getting bigger and bigger. A week or two ago I found two dead hatchlings under the nest. They looked like cowbirds to me, not kiskadees.
If so, I'm proud of the parent kiskadees for ejecting the parasites that can end up starving the rightful nesters. I see kiskadees chasing cowbirds all the time, but I've never seen an adult kiskadee feeding a just-fledged cowbird, so maybe the bothersome Bronzed and Brown-headed Cowbirds are seldom if ever successful at parasitism of kiskadee nests. (I wish I could say the same for their parisitism of Hooded Orioles and Cardinals.)

Look closely at the photo on the right and you will see the tasty morsel--a large caterpillar or fuzzy moth--that the parent Northern Kiskadee has for the hungry babies.

The baby Kiskadees are already quite large. I'm looking for first flight this weekend.

Bronzed Cowbirds can look downright demonic sometimes.

Northern Mockingbirds are not any more friendly to cowbirds than kiskadees. They are fussy with almost all birds, but cowbirds, owls, and hawks in the yard really incur their wrath. Above an irate mocker divebombs a Crested Caracara that sits across the road in a cotton field.

Ladder-backed Woodpecker

Another bird that is often scolded by other birds in the yard is the European Starling. They are beautiful birds but their tendancy to chase off other cavity nesters when competing for nest sites doesn't endear them to me. When we moved here 15 years ago there were no starlings but now two pairs have already nested in the dead cottonwood trees in the vacant lot next door. But since we already have Golden-fronted Woodpeckers mating for a second time and Ladder-backed Woodpeckers checking dead branches of the Royal Poinciana for insects, I guess we still have cavities to spare. The GF Woodpeckers are usually the excavators of the holes in dead trees and the starlings move in later.

Golden-fronted Woodpeckers

The yard is not large, but it's big enough for me. I could never get to know a larger patch as well as I want to know this one.

I'm reminded of what William Faulkner once said: "I discovered that my own little postage stamp of native soil was worth writing about and that I would never live long enough to exhaust it." Postage stamp or patch, my yard is small but filled with drama. It's a patchwork quilt of color, a crazy quilt of drama.

and the winner is....

2011-05-21T22:36:00.092-05:00

May is not only a month of migration in the yard, but also a bustling, interesting time to observe the "ordinary" year-round residents and summer nesters that are easily overlooked when so many warblers and tanagers and other bright migrants distract us.

Of course, these birds are not really ordinary at all. For example, nothing beats a Buff-bellied Hummingbird for beauty and spunk. This one, perched in a patch of sunlight, is as lovely as any bird could be. We are so lucky to have multiple buff-bellieds living here in ourTexas Rio Grande Valley yard. I've been looking for their nest--I'm certain there's one in the yard --but the nests are so tiny, I haven't found it yet.

an unfinished Altamira Oriole nest

Some of our yard nests are more obvious than others. The Altamira Orioles, for example, build a nest that cannot be ignored. It hangs down, sometimes two feet long, from a branch high on the northwest side of an oak or ash or cedar elm tree. A busy pair of the orioles might build one nest and then, because of nervousness about the Bronzed Cowbirds that wait for a chance to lay eggs in the nest, or just fickleness about where they want to live, abandon it and build another.

That's what happened again this year. A pair worked for several days and defended their nest from the cowbirds and even other Altamiras--and then left it to be blown apart by the wind. I don't know where the new nest is, but it's somewhere close by--maybe in the neighbor's Tepehuaje tree or maybe across the Arroyo. I haven't gone looking for it yet. The orioles still eat oranges and seed from the feeders many times a day, but I'm disappointed that they abandoned the nest they built in one of our oak trees.

The last day I saw the birds at their abandoned nest was the day I took the picture on the right. It was a spat between a first-year bird and one of the two older (more orange) Altamiras that had built the nest. These are not usually fussy or aggressive birds (though they do join in on the mobbing of the screech-owls), so I was surprised to see them tumbling onto the neighbor's driveway below the nest.

Brown-crested Flycatchers started a nest in a birdhouse in the butterfly garden. They put a large gray feather in the box that can be seen in the entry hole. Not all cavity-nesting birds put nesting materials in their nest cavities (the screech-owls don't; I don't think our Golden-fronted woodpeckers do--both just lay eggs on the floor that is sprinkled with wood shavings or sawdust from the excavation, if it's a natural cavity, or that we have put in there if it's a man-made box).

BC Flycatchers put all kinds of things in their nests: feathers, snakeskins, grass, bark. They usually have three broods, building a new nest in a different location each time. At least that's what they've done in our yard.

Brown-crested Flycatcher nest: note the extra-large feather!

Brown-crested Flycatchers are not year-round residents here. They arrive in March or April and raise several broods. Unfortunately, some of the eggs hatch baby cowbirds. See this post for photos of last year's feeding frenzy when they had hungry young ones.

Carolina Wrens are year-round residents. This one is grooming itself while taking a break from its nestlings that were snuggled in a hanging artificial plant on my neighbor's porch. Wrens love to nest in man-made things: pots, plants, even one time the pocket of a pair of pants another neighbor had hung on his porch railing!

My daughter's neighbors may wonder why she still has Easter decorations beside the front door. It's because behind the bunny's ears is a nest containing five newly-hatched Carolina Wrens!

I don't know where the Black-crested Titmice built their first nest this year, but four just-fledged titmice had lots of fun with their parents at the bird baths this morning.

The young ones have crests that are more gray than black, making them look like the closely-related Tufted Titmice that live further north.

These guys win the prize for strange nesting places. Last year they nested in a cow's skull that decorates the neighbor's storage house. Other times they have nested inside metal posts on the boat trailer and the satellite dish. Wherever these little guys nested this time, they are now out of the nest and all over the yard. I think they win the award for cutest babies in the yard so far this year.

A few years ago the cute baby award went hands-down to the Plain Chachalaca chicks. Precocial, they are out of the nest on the day they are born and soon are chasing around after the adults. (If a bird is altricial, it is born naked and helpless and stays in the nest for a while. By the time it is out of the nest, it's hard to tell an adult bird from a young one.)

adult Plain Chachalaca in a Wild Olive tree

I've been hearing a Chachalaca chorus every morning for a week or so, but I'm sure they won't nest in our yard since neighbors on both sides have outdoor cats that are too much of a danger to the little chicks. Before cats lived so close, these interesting birds nested in the Anacua tree beside the driveway.

Clay-colored Thrush

Award for the most exciting bird in the yard today goes to the Clay-colored Thrush that sang all morning long from the tops of several trees. We have never had a nesting pair, though we occasionally see them in the winter. Until a few years ago (when they were called Clay-colored Robins) they were very rare in the US. Now they nest in several locations in the Rio Grande Valley--but until now not in our neighborhood. The song is beautiful (similar in tone to an American Robin) and I would love to have these birds be summer nesting residents.

As long as we're handing out awards, Cutest Couple would definitely go to the Inca Doves, one of six species of doves that nest in the neighborhood. (Other doves that are year-round residents are Mourning, White-winged, White-tipped, Common Ground Dove, and Eurasian Collared-dove.)

The most endearing thing Inca Doves do while courting (in addition to snuggling, grooming, and cooing a soft whirl-pool, whirl-pool) is raise their wings to show the soft pink underneath. This guy raises his left wing;

whereupon his mate raises her right.

No spring migrating warbler, tanager, nor even Painted Bunting can rival one of our resident birds for sheer beauty: the Green Jay wins Most Beautiful no matter what the competition.

Green Jays are not building their nest in our yard this year, but they are gathering nesting material here.

Look closely (or enlarge with a click) and you'll see this Green Jay has a twig grasped in his feet. He seems to be shaping it so that it will fit the nest he is building close by.

He holds it with his feet and shapes it with his beak.

When it's to his liking he takes it in his beak and flies away to the west where his nest is. A pair of Green Jays spent one afternoon flying back and forth from our yard to one a few yards over where I presume they are building the nest in a native tree or shrub. I can't wait until they fledge a family of lively jays that will decorate the yard later in the summer. Last year's Green Jay family was unrivaled in beauty and joyous antics. (See this post from last summer for the jay family doing the Green Jay dance.)

Spring migration, which was certainly spectacular this year, is drawing to a close. The colorful parade of birds that thrill us because of the brief time we have with them may be over for the year, but the fun of watching our yard will continue as it does every summer. I can't imagine living in a better place for backyard birdwatching. Living here makes me feel as though I've won first place in the birders' sweepstakes.

Fallout

2011-05-16T22:00:00.003-05:00

Another cold front this past weekend caused another fallout of spring migrants: more warblers (Chestnut-sided, Magnolia, Blackburnian, Nashville, Tennessee, American Redstart--and FOY Canada); more vireos (Philadelphia, Red-eyed, FOY Warbling), more orioles and grosbeaks and tanagers (in far fewer numbers than last week, but still arriving). The flycatchers and their relatives were here to confuse and delight me: Scissor-tailed Flycatchers, Eastern Phoebes, Eastern Wood-Pewees, and Eastern Kingbirds started to trickle in and empidonax flycatchers in their maddening (because all so similar) variations. (Luckily, some of the empids were calling, identifying themselves as an Acadian Flycatcher and a Least. A Yellow-bellied Flycatcher had a definitive yellow throat, though its belly was not as yellow as the Acadian's.) Chimney Swifts were passing through and swooping over the river, as were a variety of swallows. A few thrushes feasted on berries of fiddlewood and anacua trees.

It was a good weekend for me to sit in our bird garden with binoculars, camera, and I-phone. It wasn't so good for our little screech-owls, however. Their fallout was of a distinctly different kind.

Yesterday I was walking up the driveway when I happened to notice a little face looking out of the owl house. It was smaller than the adult face I usually see peering at me. Before I could even stop or slow my gait, the little owl flew or fell out of the box, landing about 10 feet away. It could not fly well at all, and I wonder if it isn't too early for it to be out. The same birds that are so upset when the adult owls fly out of the box were just as upset with this baby. Mockingbirds, Hooded Orioles, Curve-billed Thrashers immediately started fussing. Green Jays and Black-crested Titmice added their calls to the cacophony.

The owl hopped/flew under an ebony tree, across the neighbor's drive and then into the yard of the vacant house next door. Northern Kiskadees were especially upset by that time because their nest is in the ebony tree. It didn't seem to matter that the little guy couldn't come close to flying up to the top of the tree. The Kiskadees were still fiercely protective.
(Enlarge this photo by clicking on it and you'll be able to find the owl among the grass and oak tree saplings.)

Northern Kiskadee nest in Ebony tree

I didn't know what to do about the situation. If I walked toward the owl, it would fly awkwardly away, further out in the open where it would continue to be mobbed. Finally it found a hiding place among low branches and the roots of a brasilian pepper tree. I decided the best thing for me to do would be to leave it there and hope things in the yard would settle down if I weren't making them worse.

I've been second-guessing myself about the wisdom of putting a nest box in our narrow yard where it would be near other nests and next to a driveway where we drive and walk past it several times a day.

Hooded Oriole nest under frond of a Sabal Palm

However, the kiskadees, thrashers, and orioles all built their nests after the owls started nesting in the box in March. The Hooded Orioles, in fact, have a nest up under the fronds of the Sabal Palm where the parent owls roost when not in the box. A nearby pine tree holds up some of the palm fronds and makes a little sheltered place for the screech-owls to rest. The woven pouch of the oriole nest (made from fibers pulled from the palm fronds) is on the opposite side of the same tree. For all their fussing at the owls, the orioles chose their own nest location. There were plenty of palm trees to choose from.

I have not seen the owl since I left it at the base of the tree. It couldn't fly well, but I believe it could move along branches. When I looked back up at the entrance hole as I passed by the owl house, I saw another little face peering at me. I hope it stays in the box a while longer. And I hope its sibling survives outside the box.

The Eastern Screech-owl in this photograph was being mobbed by several species of birds. Usually it sits unperturbed despite the ruckus, but here a Curve-billed Thrasher gets its attention by spreading wide its wing and tail feathers in an attempt to look larger and more threatening. The owl opened its beak and hissed in return, and the encounter was a standoff.

It's always a dilemma deciding what to do about birds that fall out of nests or injured birds My son's family found three robins that had fallen out of a nest at their house a few days ago. The nest had a large hole in it. They repaired it as best they could and put it back in the tree. The baby robins were obviously not fledgling age yet. It is harder to tell if the screech-owl is old enough to fledge. I usually just move birds to the safest location I can when I find them in trouble. I don't want to make things worse by interfering. But I want to help if I can.

the little hummer traveled to see grandchildren with us

Two weeks ago I found a Ruby-throated Hummingbird that had apparently fallen into a flower bed under one of our back windows. Thinking it might be temporarily stunned by a collision with the window, I left it alone and watched it for awhile. The flower bed seemed a fairly safe and sheltered place for a short time, but when the wind changed from the north I moved it to another bed and put a nectar feeder on the ground for it. Eventually I brought it inside to keep it safe from neighborhood cats.

I know keeping a wild bird is illegal, but I have been unsuccessful in a search for a bird rehabber in the area. There's one in Houston (a six-hour drive) that I may be able to take it to later this week when we go to our daughter's house for a visit. For now, I'll put the hummer outside when I can watch it and keep it supplied with nectar and fruit flies. This is the first time I've tried to care for a wild bird. I think it's pretty obvious after two weeks that the little guy is not going to be able to fly again.

This is not the kind of fallout I wish for.

Spring Fling, Part Three

2011-05-09T20:00:00.003-05:00

Because the afternoon was too hot today for sitting outside, I stayed inside reading a book about bird migration instead. Songbird Journeys: Four Seasons in the Lives of Migratory Birds, by Miyoko Chu, mixes details from scientific research on bird migration over the last several decades with stories about birds and those who study them. It makes for especially interesting reading right now when migration over the Rio Grande Valley is at its height.

The author, Miyoko Chu, a writer and editor at the Cornell Lab of Ornithology, weaves scientific data and vivid description into a fascinating narrative. But I felt a little uneasy about the birds I might be missing outside (more warblers? rare migrants?) while I remained inside to read a book about birds. My favorite reading place is under a shade tree, but even shade today provided little relief from heat, wind, and earth blowing off the dry cotton fields.

Ironically, a poem quoted by Chu echoed my uneasiness:

Why read a book when there are birds

Printing clear and breezy words

Upon the cloud's white pages? When

A busy robin and a wren

Are syllables of ecstasy!

A line of swallows on a tree,

Or wire, is a sentence, long

And sweeping. A flying flock's a strong

Paragraph, while in the air

Is quilled elaborately and rare

Illumined manuscript in gold

And green. And say, what book can hold

More fascination and delight

Than birds in migratory flight?

(--Collete M. Burns, "Why Read a Book?")

True, few books "can hold more fascination and delight than birds in migratory flight"--or in our backyard--but Chu's is a fascinating book that I highly recommend.

I'll take a break from the book (which really is hard to put down), and finish posting photos I took last week when we had that "fallout" of migrants in the yard. (Check out the previous two posts for all the buntings and warblers that came to the party.)

First up in my photos today are the thrushes, a group of species that have been the subject of scientific study of migration over the years. Last week Veeries, Gray-cheeked Thrushes, and Swainson's Thrushes stopped over in our yard to rest and refuel. It took me a while on Tuesday to realize I was seeing three different species, as one after another thrush came to the baths. (Maybe I had been inattentive, but after all, I was busy with the 18 species of warblers that had flown in!)

When I finally sorted out spots, colors, and eye-rings, I realized I was seeing several different birds and three different species. Pictured at the top of this post and at left is the lovely Veery, not quite as spotted as the other thrushes, with a warmer, almost reddish, tint and only the hint of an eye-ring.

Gray-cheeked Thrushes are slightly heavier and larger than Veeries. Their eponymous gray cheeks were a little hard to distinguish as they moved around under the trees and shrubs, but in the sunlight this field mark helps separate them from the Swainson's.

Swainson's Thrushes have more spots, buffier cheeks, and more of an eye-ring that could in fact be called spectacles.

Here a Swainson's perches on the brush pile alongside a Gray Catbird at the terra cotta saucer bath. I wanted to get pictures of the different thrushes together, but they seemed to be playing a kind of tag, one flying off just as another arrived.

Orchard Oriole

The most noticeable migrants in the yard were probably the orioles. The oranges I put out for our resident Altamira Orioles and summering Hooded Orioles were quickly eaten by migrating Baltimore Orioles and Orchard Orioles. We replenished the supply several times a day, and when we ran out of oranges, I put grape jelly in the empty orange peels.

Baltimore Orioles occasionally winter here. Orchard Orioles historically nested in the area, but I don't know of any recently. A few years ago a Fuertes's Oriole, sometimes considered a separate species and sometimes a distinctive subspecies of the Orchard, spent the summer in our yard, singing almost constantly. It often interacted with the Hooded Orioles. If there was a female Fuertes's, I couldn't tell it from the female Hoodeds. The bird returned the next summer, also, but I haven't seen one since.

Baltimore Oriole

Although these last two orioles are both adult males, the one above is more orange. Perhaps it's an older bird. The one above is in more shadow than the lower one, however, and that may make it appear darker orange. Whatever the exact shade of gold or orange, a Baltimore Oriole is a beautiful bird. When they are in the yard to rest between legs of their long migratory journey, they adorn the trees, feeders, and baths with a richness of color than is almost unparalleled.

The smaller brick-red Orchard Oriole is also lovely. Note the black tail that also distinguishes it from the Baltimore.

Absent from the yard last week were Bullock's Orioles which we usually see in small numbers during migration. A four-oriole day is a great one, however, so I won't complain that a Bullock's didn't appear with the others.

Scarlet Tanager

Two Tanager species also graced the yard last week. Brightly colored migratory birds, Tanagers are almost always among the birds that "fall out" on the coast following cold fronts in the spring. The Scarlet Tanager is the brightest, its red color almost florescent and contrasting starkly with black wings and tail.

The Summer Tanager, which winters in Mexico, does not migrate as far as the Scarlet which winters in South America. In fact, we had a Summer Tanager that wintered here in our yard. It was here before the January freeze and I was relieved to see it after the ice storm safe and sound.

Summer Tanager

The red of the Summer Tanager is a rosier red than that of the Scarlet Tanager. Young males are yellow and become quite blotchy as they begin to get red in the spring. This one has almost finished the molt that will make it completely red.

As I look at the photo of this Summer Tanager, I can't tell what is in its beak. They were eating berries of the fiddlewood much of the time they were here, but I know they also eat insects, especially bees, and since this picture was taken in an esperanza which does not fruit, I think the bird may be eating a bee. Sometimes Summer Tanagers are called "beebirds" for their fondness of the insects.

This Summer Tanager is clearly eating a bee. I took the photo in September when the bird was migrating back from the north. As I sat on my upstairs deck the bird was literally snapping the bees with its heavy bill, producing a sound that from only about 8-10 feet away from me was surprisingly loud.

Although Orioles were quite numerous last week, even more abundant were the Rose-breasted Grosbeaks. These bright, beautiful, but slightly comical-looking birds flocked around the feeders eating striped and black sunflower seeds as well as the fiddlewood berries that were ripening just behind our largest feeder. Sometimes berries or jelly stained their large beaks dark purple.

The amount of red on each male's breast varied. The one pictured above was distinctive because of the large patch of red on its breast and the additional red on the throat. The one below is probably a younger male, its rose-breast not yet as extensive as it will later be. Younger males also have brown feathers mixed in with the black on the back and wings. An older adult male's black is so black, and its white so white, that it is a distinctively beautiful black, red, and black bird.

The brown striping of the female Rose-breasted Grosbeak can be seen in the photo below, the bird on the left. She is sparrow-colored but all-grosbeak in size, shape, and beak. When she flies you might see a flash of buffy yellow underwings. (A female grosbeak in the winter here is likely to be a Black-headed rather than a Rose-breasted. Females of the two species look similar, though the male Black-headed is a handsome black and orange. A young male visited our feeders in late winter.)

I finally updated the list of yard birds I keep in the sidebar. So far this year we have seen 155 species in the yard. Many of them were added in the last week. Not only did we have a good number of species, but we also had large numbers of single species. At one time there were 13 grosbeaks on the small feeder by the upstairs backyard window while others dined at the front feeders. At another time I counted 9 orioles on the front deck. (Today it was obvious that migration is tapering when only a single grosbeak ate at the back feeder and only Hooded and Altamira Orioles, taking a break from nest-building, tore pulp from the orange halves.)

Orioles, grosbeaks, tanagers, thrushes, buntings, warblers! The highlight of spring migration is not a single bird, incredibly beautiful as many of them are; it is the amalgamation of colors, shapes, and sometimes even the songs of these traveling winged wonders. All year long we can enjoy the singular beauty of birds. But during migration we celebrate their collective beauty, perseverance, and strength.

Spring Fling, part two

2011-05-07T23:48:00.005-05:00

Watching warblers wouldn't be nearly so much fun if it were always easy to identify each one. If they are high in the trees or flittering around too much, or if they are just one of those drab "confusing fall warblers" (as the Peterson Guides admonish), it's really--well, confusing. Even in spring when warblers are not usually drab I can be confused.

I think I'm looking carefully, in minute detail, at each field mark--but then when I consult the guide I find I have forgotten to notice if the vent is yellow or the eye-ring broken. Thank goodness now for cameras that can zoom in close and let me examine the birds at my leisure after I've left the yard and the exciting sport of backyard warbler-watching. But even then, I can't always tell if the bird really has a yellowish tint on its underparts or if that's just the sun reflecting off its whitish feathers.

I think the bird above is a Nashville warbler. No wing bars. Olive back. Eye-ring and yellowish underparts. In other photos of it, it almost looks to be an Orange-crowned, another drab warbler. But this picture was taken in late April and the wintering OCWAs were mostly gone. So I say Nashville. It's my yard.

This week Nashville Warblers and Tennessee Warblers were everywhere. Today I watched a Tennessee Warbler (small, olive-green but with an eye-line rather than an eye-ring) eat cranberry jelly from an orange half right outside the window. (The Golden-fronted Woodpeckers had cleaned out the last of the orange halves, so I just filled them with grape jelly. When the migrating Baltimore Orioles gobbled up all the grape jelly, I refilled them with cranberry jelly.) Field guides say the OCWA and TEWA are the same size, but this Tennessee looked really tiny. Even from a few inches away on my window sill. I guess it's the slimmer head makes it seems so miniscule.

Blue-headed Vireo

Warblers have sharp little beaks which distinguish them from vireos. I try to remember to look at the beak of small birds first to try to place them in categories. A Philadelphia Vireo, for example, is similar to a warbler but its larger vireo beak is a distinguishing clue.

Four vireo species joined the yard party at this week's spring fling: Philadelphia, Blue-headed, White-eyed and Red-eyed. The phillies' bar-less wings and yellowish underparts make it easy to confuse with wing-bar-less warblers, but the vireo beak, slightly bigger than a warbler's, helped me identify it.

Red-eyed Vireo

I did not see the White-eyed but I know he was here because I heard his call: quick! give me three beers, chick! (That's my favorite phonetic transcription of the White-eyed Vireo's call. Definitely more fun than chick'-a-per-weeoo-chick')

I've digressed about the vireos. Let's get back to the warblers. Most of them were anything but drab and most, if they weren't at the birdbath were in the live oak, tallest tree in the yard. A Black and White Warbler scurried up and down the trunk, a Cerulean Warbler gleaned the topmost leaves, and a Blackpoll hid in the leaves so that I almost thought it was another Black and White. All of these were in the shadows or too quick for a snapshot.

Blackburnian Warbler

I did, however, get a somewhat fuzzy photo of what's long been my favorite warbler. I had not seen one in several years, but the pattern of the bright orange and black was unmistakable.

My first Blackburnian was in the Smokey Mountains on a camping trip thirty plus years ago. I was an adult, but I'd been dreaming of Blackburnian Warblers since I was a kid pouring over the Roger Tory Peterson field guide. Living in Oklahoma, we didn't see a lot of the brightest warblers. I had hoped to see one on our trip to the east and I was thrilled when I did. That was then; this is now. Here in the Rio Grande Valley it's almost like I have the whole field guide in my own backyard.

When sorting out warblers, or just dreaming about seeing them, I always consult a variety of field guides. Peterson's guide is still the best for drawings of warblers. Though I've purchased the Peterson warbler app for my iphone, I still browse the warbler pages of the latest Peterson guide when I'm hoping for a warbler drop-day. I especially like the way the pages are organized with similar birds on the same pages. For example, Black and White, Blackpoll, and Cerulean Warblers are pictured on a page of "Warblers: Black-striped, gray, or bluish." I'm looking now at the plate titled "Warblers: Orange or chestnut patches" and just realized that on Tuesday I saw all five of the birds on this beautifully drawn page: Cape May Warbler, Chestnut-sided Warbler, Bay-breasted Warbler, Blackburnian Warbler, and American Redstart!

Roger Tory Peterson signs my old field guide.

[When Roger Tory Peterson came to the first Rio Grande Valley Birding Festival seventeen years ago, I asked him to sign my first field guide, one my father gave me when I was eight years old.

An elderly man by then, Peterson still birded the world and spoke at the festival about a recent trip to Antarctica. A world birding expert, he considered the Rio Grande Valley one of the top birding spots in the country. I agree with him. For me, the top birding spot is sitting in an easy chair in my own backyard.]

More visitors to our backyard Spring Fling:

Black-throated Gray Warblers are often in the yard in the winter. This one might have been here for a while or it might be part of the horde of travelers this Spring. It will go north along with other migrants.

The yellow-capped, chestnut-sided Chestnut-sided Warbler is cheerful looking, cocking its tail much like a wren.

Northern Parulas have a distinctive patch of yellow-green on their backs. A dark band washed with orange on the breast below a yellow throat makes this bluish colored warbler one of the loveliest.

I am assuming this Waterthrush is a Northern because of the lateness of its migration. About a month ago I supposed the waterthrushes were Louisiana which migrate in earlier spring.

Nothing says Spring better than a bright yellow Yellow Warbler. Its rusty breast streaks indicate that it is a male.

This bright guy is a Magnolia Warbler, one of the loveliest warblers of all. My Ibird Pro app tells me a group of these is known as a bouquet. How appropriate for such a spring beauty!

A male American Redstart is bright and fluttery like a butterfly. Along the driveway, where a thicket of trees and shrubs (brasil, fiddlewood, granjeno, anaqua) provide cover and berries, half a dozen American Redstarts flittered and looked at me with curiosity.

I heard the Common Yellowthroat's witchety witchety witchety witch and finally located him in the butterfly garden.

Not to be outdone by the birds, this Anole is another splash of color in the butterfly garden.

Northern Parula and Tennessee Warbler

The magic of migration and the possibilities of a spectacular fallout of warblers is alive in our small yard. The yard is quieter today but some of our Drop Day birds linger, and new ones continue to arrive. I'll post pictures of orioles, grosbeaks, and thrushes tomorrow. Look for Spring Fling, part three.

Spring Fling

2011-05-06T22:00:00.201-05:00

On spring nights, thousands and thousands of songbirds are aloft, streaming north as we sleep, miraculously migrating long distances from wintering forests, streams, and grasslands of Central and South America to their summer homes in North America. Most of these tiny travelers pass on by in the night without our ever seeing them. I've heard that if you look at the full moon with binoculars you can sometimes see them. And a few years ago an ornithologist put microphones on the roof of the local high school to record the flight calls of migrating dickcissels. But most people are unaware of the magnitude of life passing not that far above our heads as we lie in our beds.

If you are lucky enough to live in South Texas, you might wake up one morning after strong south winds have changed to the north, and find your yard alive with tired but hungry migrants that didn't just fly on by. Hundreds of warblers, buntings, tanagers, grosbeaks, and thrushes are sometimes grounded because of adverse weather. We call these occasions, when north winds or rain stop the migrating birds, "fallouts."

I don't exactly wish for fallouts, or "drop days," because their very existence mean that thousands of birds have been so stressed they must stop their travels until conditions are more favorable. But I love the visitors that drop into my yard. Early this week the wind changed, temperatures dropped to a reasonable coolness, and the migrants dropped in.

Suddenly I could find Baltimore Orioles, Rose-breasted Grosbeaks, and Scarlet Tanagers bathing all together at the saucers. Without a fallout, I would find migrants in April and May, but not in such lovely, colorful, amazing numbers, each beautiful spot of color bringing out the beauty of the others.

Early Tuesday and Wednesday mornings my birding friends headed for the World Birding Center and "warbler lots" on South Padre Island, where the birder-to-bird ratio is about twenty to one. I just walked out to the front yard and sat under a cedar elm tree.

At first I sat in my camouflaged chair-blind, but soon I realized that the birds were not at all shy and I could sit back by the shrubbery in a regular lawn chair and survey more of the yard and the birds that were flying, bathing, and feeding in it.

In the photo to the left, a resident Northern Cardinal looks slightly askance at the crowd of visitors invading his yard. On the top saucer is a Summer Tanager, probably a first year male. Splashing vigorously at mid-level are a female Baltimore Oriole and female Indigo Bunting. At the bottom a green female Painted Bunting finds shallow water.

Don't you love photos of splashing bathers? Here's a clearer view of the submerged two:

[For good measure, I'll add another image of a seriously intense solo bather, another spring migrant. Can you tell what it is?]

Right! It's a male Indigo Bunting that stopped by the yard in April. The color is gorgeous. (I'm tempted to get out my Color Snap app. See this post for some more coloring fun. ) I don't know if the bunting's lighter tint is because it's earlier in the season or if the lighting makes it look different. Usually Indigo Buntings look darker blue to me. I have read that the color of Indigo Buntings is a function of light refraction on black feathers rather than the pigmentation of the feathers themselves. In other words, the feathers are not really blue but black. (I just looked this up to make sure what I was saying was right and found an article that explains it clearly here.)

All buntings are beautiful, even the less colorful females and young males. But it's the Painted Bunting that makes many people, birders or not, catch their breath. Whenever someone starts to say, "The bird I'd really like to see is...", I can usually complete the sentence for them: Painted Bunting. Like Indigo Buntings, they are mostly spring migrants here, though they occasionally breed in south Texas. (A female Painted Bunting and a brown Indigo Bunting also spent the winter with us this year. I've seen a Varied Bunting in the yard just once, in 2002 on the day of the Big Sit in October.)

Buntings are not the only Spring stunners that visited us in large numbers this week. When I think of a fallout, I think of warblers. A five-warbler day I consider exciting, but on Tuesday alone we had twelve warbler species bathing and flittering around the front yard. (Since the wind was strong and cool from the north, most birds and I avoided the back yard. )

The stunning bird at the top of this post is a Bay-breasted Warbler. I don't see them every spring, but this week we had several, bathing and drinking at the baths and eating berries of the fiddlewood and brasil trees. I like these inquisitive-looking little guys.

The most flittery of the warblers are American Redstarts. Their color and movement remind me of butterflies. The tail pattern makes these guys unmistakable whether its the black and red male or the more subtle yellow and brown female.

I have more warbler photos to show but I think I'll go ahead and post these. I'll add a postscript tomorrow morning--unless the spring migration show continues into the weekend. In that case, I'll be sitting in the yard.

Ducks in a Row

2011-05-01T22:19:00.001-05:00

I'm not particularly organized and seldom pay attention to detail, being a big-picture type of person--but no one can say I don't have my ducks in a row!

I know I said I'd get photos posted of those tanagers and grosbeaks and buntings (oh, my!), but these Black-bellied Whistling Ducks are just too cute to not post them first. Every evening they line up on the deck above our boat lift, waiting for a neighbor to put out their seed, whistling in their Black-bellied-Whistling-Duck way. I think they are adorable. They seem to be paired up now and may be looking for nesting sites again in neighborhood washingtonian palms.

I meant to put up a duck box for them this year but I just never got that done. I did buy a new screech-owl box, though, and it's occupied, though no sign yet of hatchlings. And this evening a Brown-crested Flycatcher fluttered around a new birdhouse in the backyard. So that's two new avian houses I managed to to put up in time for this spring.

I'll keep reporting on our whistling duck activities as the season goes on and I get myself better organized. That is, when I get my ducks in a row.

Christmas in April

2011-04-30T23:27:00.001-05:00

Yesterday, and again today, migrating birds decorated the yard as though for Christmas. The weather could not have been worse for people or birds (hot, dry, windy), but trees were adorned with the most colorful of spring migrants: orioles, buntings (like the bright male Painted Bunting above), grosbeaks, tanagers, warblers--we had multiple species of them all.

All day yesterday I walked the driveway snapping pictures and hid behind bushes to get closer to bird baths. I took so many photos I may never get them all posted. (I think I took almost as many pictures of birds yesterday morning as I take of my grandchildren at Christmas.)

Most photos, of course, were taken at the watering places around the yard: at drippers, baths, saucers, and fountains. The most decorated trees were ones near the water where birds in the sunshine looked like sparkling ornaments adorning branches.

Hidden among bright berries of the ripening fiddlewood at left are a Scarlet Tanager and a Rose-breasted Grosbeak. Just as I snapped the photo, a Baltimore Oriole moved out of view, dropping down to a feeder to take a bite of orange! I wish I could have gotten the trio together, but the two who remained illustrate my comparison to a Christmas tree with bright ornaments.

Stay tuned: over the next few days I'll be proving my claims with my photos--not always the best photographically speaking, but exciting for me as they recall how in awe I've been this April at the beauty of the visitors to the yard.

Water Works

2011-04-09T22:17:00.004-05:00

Whoever wrote that little ditty about April showers didn't live in South Texas. We do have the spring flowers (those that require little moisture), but we haven't had a drop of rain. And a drop is about all we had in March. Add to that temperatures already approaching 100 (and at least once this week exceeding) and winds of about 30 mph day and night (gusting to 60), and you get really dry conditions.

That's why all the avian action is staying pretty close to water sources these days--- like this Northern Kiskadee drinking from a bird bath that's just across the driveway from the Ebony tree where its nest is under construction. A copper dripping tube keeps water moving in this bath and attracts birds by sound as well as sight. (Moving water is key to busy baths. Some of our dripper systems are as simple a plastic jug with a hole in it suspended over a saucer.)

Green Jays also stay close to baths, dipping in several times a day.

I've been a little worried that the Screech-owls' nesting in a box very close to this particular bird bath might deter the bathing, but it apparently hasn't. One bird or several are almost always there.

Except for a while yesterday morning when this bather took his turn:

A Cooper's Hawk always clears baths and feeders for awhile. Not long after his drink, the hawk managed to snag a Red-winged Blackbird out of the air, leaving only a feather or two settling in the dust of the driveway.

I actually don't begrudge the hawk a blackbird or two--we still have hundreds! I know many backyard watchers up north are still awaiting the Red-winged grain-devourers as early harbingers of spring, but I am really tired of them here. One or two seem always to be scouting for the moment I fill the feeders, and before I get back to the garage, a few hundred are in the yard. Their numbers are decreasing but not quick enough for me. I love them for their beauty and I love them two at a time, but I just can't afford to keep feeding the hordes. The third bird with the two red-winged raiders in the photo to the right is a Bronzed Cowbird. They have shown up in the yard this week, ready to pester the orioles as soon as nest-building begins.

The main water feature of the backyard is of course the Arroyo Colorado, a smaller river when it flows through Harlingen and a larger dredged shipping channel when its mixture of salt water and fresh water rises and falls with the tides as it passes our back yard. Herons, egrets, terns, night-herons, gulls, ospreys, pelicans, cormorants, and many other water birds follow the arroyo, wading along the edge and resting in the trees along the banks.

One of my favorite river birds is the Black-bellied Whistling Duck, the guy in the photo on the left. Early this morning a group of eighteen Black-bellied Whistling Ducks landed on our dock and the roof of our neighbor's, waiting to share a feeder with the blackbirds. They'll do this each morning and evening for a while. Then we'll have fewer at a time until the nearest nesting pair start bringing their large families back to the feeders.

Another favorite bird that is always on the arroyo is the Night Heron, mostly Black-crowned but sometimes Yellow-crowned.

The bright red eye of the Black-crowned Night-Heron is sometimes the first thing I spot when the bird hides in the oak tree.

First year night-herons are brown with large white spots.

The long neck of this young night-heron makes me think it might be a Yellow-crowned Night-Heron rather than a Black-crowned one, though I'm not sure. It just struck me as different, I took a photo, and later it occurred to me that maybe it was different, I think the spots are a little smaller, also, another field mark of the very similar BCNH.

Last week an adult Yellow-crowned Night Heron fished across the river. Adults are easy to tell apart, even when the YCNH is scrunching its neck down in a posture more like the BCNH.

If it weren't for the water that draws in the birds, we would probably not see many birds on these hot windy days. The wind is definitely keeping migrants from stopping by, though I have seen a couple of Hooded Warblers at the baths.

Hooded Orioles have paired up and like to bathe together. Here are a male and female in a Mexican Olive tree just prior to a dip in the water-filled saucer below the tree.

So that's the news of the week from our dry, hot, windy yard. I'll keep filling up the baths and turning on the drippers in the front yard and the river will keep flowing past the back. That will bring in the birds and all of us will be happy. Unless a hungry Cooper's Hawk snags another black bird. In the natural world not everybird can live happily everafter.

Homesteading Update

2011-03-26T22:49:00.001-05:00

So much avian homesteading is going on in the yard that I'm actually posting an update only a day after yesterday's post! ( I'll add the update to the Saturday "Camera Critters" meme posted by Misty Dawn over at her blog. Be sure to check it out.)

One of the little Eastern Screech-owls above is probably the one I photographed giving the "stink eye" yesterday when I walked past the new owl box. Looks to me like it's the guy on the right. I say "guy" because in this species, as with most owls and raptors, the male is the smaller of the pair, sometimes 20% smaller than the female. (The difference in posture in this photo might make it hard for me to tell for sure which owl is actually bigger. I can tell which one is giving me a dirty look, however.) I looked up some information on screech-owls in The Eastern Screech Owl: Life history, Ecology, and Behavior in the Suburbs and Countryside, by Frederick R. Gehlbach. He says the larger size helps the female to survive while nurturing young and also to defend her nest when the male is away hunting. The male's sleeker size helps him catch the more abundant smaller prey and means he won't need as much food himself when his job is to provide food for his mate and the growing, hungry nestlings.

The owl on the right in the picture of the duo had been in the box until I walked along the driveway. When I stopped close-by to adjust a hose, it flew across the drive to a pine tree. The Sabal Palm frond in the background makes a little shelter for the owls, and it's a common place to find them resting. It's also a great background for a picture!

Because Eastern Screech-owls in South Texas can be nesting already in February, I was afraid that we might not get owls in a box that wasn't put up until March. Imagine my surprise when, in just a few days, we started seeing an owl regularly peering out of the new box. I'm still not convinced that there will actually be eggs and young. These owls seem more skittish than others that have nested in the old box in the same location, owls that would peer at us patiently all day long without flying to the safety of the trees. Perhaps these homesteaders are younger than previous residents. But the appearance today of two screech owls makes me hopeful.

I don't know where the closest nest was last year. We had removed the old one because of a bee hive, but the nest was probably close by since I was able to photograph this adorable owl in the pine tree last August. It was being mobbed by Green Jays and a Mockingbird that pecked it on the head. No wonder its feathers are ruffled! I think from the feathers this must be a fledgling, but Gehlbach's book says that molting for all Eastern Screech-owls peaks in late July--- so maybe this is an adult that is molting.

(Bragging Alert! What follows is relevant to discussion of these owl photos, perhaps, but is also unabashed boasting.

Our Arroyo Colorado Audubon Society had a photo contest open to members last November, voted on by visitors to our booth during the Rio Grande Valley Birding Festival. My little owl won 2nd place in the contest---apparently cuteness counted most! The prize of a gift certificate at a local framing store came in handy when I had my Ochre Oriole watercolor framed last month. [Check out the RGV festival, one of the first and best in the nation, by clicking the link. You can expect me to talk about it quite a bit this year since I've joined the planning committee. I helped with it in the early years and am excited to be involved again.]

Owl photos are lucky for me. Another one won a blue ribbon in last month's Laguna Vista Birding Festival amateur photo contest. It was of an owl that perched in our oak tree one night last June as I stood on the deck a few feet away. I ran back into the house to get my camera. Not sure how to take a night photo, I held a flashlight in one hand and the camera, flash on, in the other. Amazingly, the photo turned out well, capturing for my memory and blog one of several screech-owls, some of them fledglings just out of the nest, hunting and trilling in that June night.

The other photo that won a ribbon (3rd place) at the Laguna Vista festival is the one of a Cedar Waxwing with a dark blue berry in its mouth that I posted a few weeks ago, just after a small flock of the birds visited the ripening berries on the ligustrum tree. The Laguna Vista Birdfest was a really fun small festival held at the Laguna Vista golf course near South Padre Island, about 20 miles from here. A very active group of birders who live there have the small festival every year and really outdo themselves with interesting speakers and activities. It's a great example of what a small dedicated group of organizers can accomplish.)

Okay, enough about my ribbon-winning. You can tell I'm not used to winning anything. I'm just glad to be learning more about my point-and-shoot camera. I always wanted to be able to take pictures of birds and now with relatively low-cost amazing cameras (mine's a Canon SX10IS), even I can take photos I want to keep and share.

Now on with the update on nesting and pre-nesting activity in the yard:

Here's a series of photos of Eurasian Collared Doves getting to know each other on top of the boat dock. At least the male would like to get acquainted. That's him in the back (I presume), pursuing the lovely lady in the lead. She is keeping an eye on him though she continues stepping out.

She walks on--- but knowing she's aware of him behind her, he begins a kind of nodding, bowing dance.

Maybe he gets just too forward for her sense of propriety---and she flies away.

Eurasian Collared-doves are, as the name implies, not native to the United States, having been introduced from Europe---but their range here in South Texas is rapidly expanding. I had never seen one before 2002 when I saw three near the high school parking lot where I taught in Rio Hondo (about 12 miles from here). Since then, they have spread to Arroyo City and are now nesting in the neighborhood. I will keep an eye on this couple and hope to find a nest. This is just one of several species of doves that frequent the yard: Inca Doves, Common Ground Doves, White-winged Doves, Mourning Doves, and White-tipped Doves are also common and year-round residents.

One more "couple" piqued my paparazzi-like interest today. I put a few orange halves on the front deck this afternoon and immediately attracted a pair of Golden-fronted Woodpeckers. The male is on the left, distinguished by the red patch on his crown as well as gold on the nape and forehead. The female on the right lacks the red on the crown. They are similar to the Red-bellied Woodpeckers I remember from my Oklahoma childhood.

Golden-fronted Woodpeckers nest in the yard every year. They are the excavators of about a dozen holes in two dead cottonwood trees that the former next-door neighbor cut down to about fifteen-twenty feet, forming condominiums for starlings, woodpeckers, and titmice. Until the dead trees proved so enticing, the woodpeckers used to make holes in our house, pull out the insulation, and build nests in the walls. We tried to discourage this, of course, but they were persistent. For a few years we lured them to nest boxes. Finally, we patched the holes in our house, beat on the walls when we heard the birds, and hoped that they would stick to the cottonwoods. So far it has worked. Last week, for insurance, we also put up a new nest box in the back yard where an old one had, like the owl box, been taken over by bees.

Now that I am retired, I can spend all the time I wish exploring the nature in our yard and writing about what I see. The yard is not really very big, just about a third of an acre, deeper than it is wide, but it's a fascinating place. Blogging gives me a chance to keep records of my observations. Today, reading Thoreau's journals, I found this entry for April 7, 1853. It says just what I've been thinking:

"If you make the least correct observation of nature this year, you will have occasion to repeat it with illustrations the next, and the season and life itself is prolonged."

I wonder what Thoreau would think of nature blogging. He could take a laptop to his cabin at Walden pond, but I don't know where he'd plug it in.

Homecomings and Homebuilding

2011-03-25T20:44:00.001-05:00

I was almost right about the Hooded Oriole's return. He came "home" just one day later than last year. Here he is in one of the palm trees in the backyard, not far from where a pair of the birds nested last summer. Actually several pairs nested last year, as every year, in our palms and those of yards nearby. Their small beautiful nests are made of long palm fibers, like little golden purses, that are usually nestled under a palm frond. So far this spring I've seen only one male at a time and no females. It appeared first late in the day at a front yard bath, just as it did last year, and was in the Bottlebrush tree early the next morning.

Below is a photo of a similarly-colored Altamira Oriole in the Bottlebrush. Here in Texas, Hooded Orioles are orange like the Altamiras, though I think they are more yellow or gold in other locations. The two species are sometimes confused by casual observers. Note the difference in the shape of the black on the head--more like a mask on the Altamira Oriole and coming straight down just behind the eye of the Hooded, forming the orange "hood." In addition, the Altamira Oriole has an orange wing patch high on the shoulder and the Hooded does not.

When the male Hooded Orioles arrive home, they seem most interested at first in bathing and eating. When the females follow in a few days (this is the usual pattern), oriole-watching gets more interesting as the males crisscross the yard and show off from every tree. Home-building quickly follows their homecoming as they pair up and start finding nesting sites.

My favorite oriole photo from last spring is this one in which a male is spreading his tail almost as if imitating the palm frond on which he's perched (and where his mate will build a nest after his antics successfully get her attention).

Tail-fanning seems to be a popular way of attracting attention in the bird world. Here's a photo of a Long-billed Thrasher showing off to his mate a few weeks ago. I had taken a picture of what I thought was just one thrasher in the Bottlebrush tree. I hadn't even seen the dancer with the fancy tail, but there it was when I reviewed the photo. I love photos I just shoot randomly that turn out later to be really interesting.

Long-billed Thrashers

Curve-billed Thrasher

We have two species of thrashers that live year-round in the yard, both virtuoso singers. Long-billed thrashers are more musical, their phrases a little slower, but I find the Curve-billed Thrasher's song extremely interesting. The male that lives in our yard all year began singing in January, very quietly but constantly as though practicing for the "real" full-throated singing that began in February. I've written about this "whisper song" before. (I've also written about Buff-bellied Hummingbirds and Altamira Orioles singing so quietly you have to be very close to hear them.) When the thrasher sings his quiet song, he doesn't open his beak much, if at all, but his throat moves. I'll hear a song that sounds as if a singing bird is far away, and then find the persistent singer in a nearby Hackberry tree. His usual song is like the whisper song in quality and phrasing but is very much louder.

Curve-billed Thrashers seem always to be doing something interesting.

Here one is taking a sun bath on a sun-warmed stepping stone.

Here one bends low to sip water spraying from a dripper hose.

And here he looks especially distinctive perched on a post.

Curved-bill thrashers have more rounded markings on their breasts than Long-billed, and of course their color is a more muted brown. Both have a distinctive long, dark bill, and orange eyes. Our yard, a messy one with unraked leaves and brushy unkempt tangles of native shrubs, is a perfect place for them to thrash around in, throwing leaf litter and dirt all around.

Yesterday I thought perhaps a Brown Thrasher had stopped by our yard. Once one spent a whole winter with us. Yesterday's bird appeared redder than the usual dark brown of the very similar Long-billed. But closer looks showed me the gray face and darker bill of the Long-billed after all, looking especially bright and reddish in the sun.

Both pairs of thrashers are beginning nest-building activities, though neither has settled on a specific location. I think the Long-billed pair will nest in a Cedar Elm in the front yard and the Curved-billed couple are experimenting by sticking thorny twigs in various locations in the back. Curve-billed Thrashers seem to not need such brushy locations. They have built in past years in just about every medium sized tree in the yard. Last year their first nest was in a Yucca and the second in a Brasil. One year they even built a nest in a Purple Martin house that the martins no longer liked because trees had grown too near it.

Starlings are already nesting in a cavity in the dead cottonwood. I don't begrudge these invaders a spot since there are about a half-dozen other cavities for the woodpeckers and titmice to choose from. A Screech-owl is at least roosting if not nesting in a new owl box by the drive. We put the box up just a couple of weeks ago to replace one bees had taken over last summer. It's probably too late for this guy to nest, but he sure likes sitting in the box.

He doesn't, however, like me to walk past his door. That's what my granddaughters call the stink eye.

I've added to the year's bird list (see sidebar) but I'm not sure it's accurate yet. I'm still tweeting new year birds on Twitter, but I don't always remember to tweet every one. I'll work on my list tomorrow and then keep adding more as migrants return home or pass through. I think the list is a little behind last year's at this time.

Two days ago I was very excited to see an Aplamado Falcon fly over the house. Typically, I didn't have my camera with me. This is only the second time I've seen the falcon in (or over) the yard. The first time was about ten years ago when two perched on an electric pole in September. (We live not too far from Laguna Atascosa NWR where several pairs have nested successfully after a reintroduction program by the Peregrine Fund.)

Spring arrived officially a few days ago. The moon over the arroyo on the first night of spring was a Supermoon, named because it was nearer the earth than it had been in 18 years. A moon rising over the water is always breathtaking, but this one was especially ... well, super. I wish I could have captured a picture of the Great Blue Heron that flew along the river across the moon's light.

I'll try to blog often to report on our homecomings and nest-building. Spring is super everyday in the Rio Grande Valley.

On Catching Up (and Looking Back)

2011-03-17T23:30:00.003-05:00

Sometimes I feel like the osprey in this photo--not the one with the fish, but the one chasing ineffectually. I'm not flying as gracefully as this bird, of course, but I'm trying to catch up. The last time I posted was the day before St. Valentine's Day and here it is St. Patrick's Day! This post won't have a real theme--it'll just be catch-up time.

When I started blogging at the beginning of 2010, my objective was to write something that would help me keep track of a year in the life of the yard. I had already tried that with various journals and lists, but found they were too easy to misplace--and you can't keep track of details if the list you keep them on is lost. Even though I don't post as often as I had intended, my blog is always "there" (somewhere in cyberspace) and I'm finding it really fun to look back over last year's posts. Today, as I read over last year's posts for February and March, I was reminded of some interesting observations and found myself comparing them to this year's.

For example, a couple of weeks ago, I took a photo of pelicans fishing out back in the Arroyo. One of them was the red-pouched form of the Brown Pelican, a subspecies usually found in California. As I browsed the blog's posts from a year ago, I saw that I was speculating then about how many of our Texas pelicans are this form, but I couldn't find an answer anywhere. Trying to figure it out for myself, I counted pelicans as we took a boat trip up the river. Today I read in the TOS Handbook of Texas Birds (a book I didn't have last year) that about 10-15 percent have the red gular pouch. I think that's an overestimation as far as the birds here on the South Texas coast--or at least in the Arroyo--are concerned. Last year's effort to count pelicans and note the ones with the red rather than the grayish pouch made me conclude that more like 2% were the California subspecies.

Another thing I noticed after looking at last year's posts (see the links here and here) is that there are not nearly as many Brown Pelicans on the river as there were a year ago. I hope that has nothing to do with the oil spill in the gulf. The TOS handbook says Brown Pelicans are not known to breed along the lower Texas Coast. I think they actually do breed on some of the spoil banks in the Laguna Madre. If it's not windy tomorrow maybe we can retrace the boat trip we took looking for and counting pelicans last March. It isn't scientific, but it is interesting to compare one year's observations with another, and thanks to my Arroyo Colorado Riverblog, it's easy to do that.

Continuing with my catch-up post: I'm on the lookout for our migrant Hooded Orioles. Checking the blog for the date of last year's first appearance, I see it's March 18--that's tomorrow. I can't wait! The bottlebrush tree is starting to bloom, ready for the nectar-loving birds. Today three Altamira Orioles flew across the yard and into the tree. For a second I thought maybe the Hoodeds were back. By non-scientific observation, I know that the same birds migrate back to our yard year-after-year: we once had a male Hooded Oriole with a deformed beak, easy to recognize as it returned for at least three summers. (I was especially glad to see it each spring, as I feared the deformity would make survival difficult-- but apparently it didn't, or at least not for those three years.)

A Fuertes's Oriole ( formerly Ochre Oriole) also returned to the yard two summers. I'm sure it was the same bird since it had been seen in the United States only once before (late 1800s)--and what are the chances two different Fuertes Orioles would show up in the same yard two years in a row? Every spring I look for the beautiful Ochre Oriole, but it did not return for a third year and hasn't been seen north of the Mexican border since. This year, though, I have something almost as good--a lovely watercolor by bird artist F.P. (Tony) Bennett, who saw it in our yard and has painted it for us. We just got the watercolor back from the framer's today. Tony's depiction does the bird justice--a really beautiful creature. (To see some of Tony's other paintings, see this link: http://www.fpbennett.com/ )

Speaking of orioles, I'm looking forward to the Altamira Oriole's yearly magnificent feat of nest-building. Looking back over the blog, I see it was mid April of last year that they built their first nest. Unfortunately, they abandoned that one in our Oak tree and built another in a Tepeguahee tree three doors to the west of us. That nesting was apparently successful--two first-year Altamiras joined two adults all winter in the yard, eating oranges, sipping hummingbird nectar, feeding on aloe blooms, and even eating seeds from the feeders. Above is one of the young birds. Note the pale back and tail, and contrast it with the black of the adult below. Male and female look similar in this species of oriole, unlike the Hooded Orioles whose female is much like the female Ochre Oriole in Tony's watercolor.

Since I'm trying to catch up with a whole month of yard activities, I've got lots more to show and tell. I also want to tell about a couple of really neat experiences I had away from the yard. But for now I'll close this post and continue writing tomorrow. I want to get up early in the morning for some backyard birding.

Will the Hooded Orioles show up tomorrow? I'll be watching.

Backyard Birds: This Week's "Camera Critters"

2011-02-13T02:30:00.001-06:00

The first half of February has been great for watching birds in the yard. Since a picture's worth a thousand words, I'll post photos and forgo the words for this posting of "Camera Critters." (Well, most of the words.)

I'm pretty sure that just one round blue-black berry in the Cedar Waxwing's mouth is worth 900 words.

The other hundred would be dedicated to describing the exquisiteness of feathers that look as if the ends were dipped in pots of brightly colored wax. Or the sleekness of a black mask outlined in white.

Altamira Orioles can be enthusiastic and somewhat messy eaters when slurping nectar from a hummingbird feeder (click to enlarge if you can't see the sugar water he's slinging about)

or gobbling pulp from orange halves on an icy morning.

If you think this Northern Cardinal was enjoying his dip in the saucer bath,

you should have seen this one!

And if you think the cardinals splashed a little water out of the tub,

you should have seen the Green Jays!

Before this Golden Fronted Woodpecker found two fresh orange halves on the south deck,

she had passed up the frozen ones on the north side of the house!

A year-round resident of our back yard, it's safe to say she had never before seen an ice storm in Arroyo City--and neither had we!

I'm sure this Northern Mockingbird appreciated the oranges we put out for him,

but he sure looks angry about the ice on his tail!

I'm just an amateur photographer with a point and shoot camera, but the subjects of my photographs more than makeup for my lack of professional skill. If you focus on the birds and not my fuzzy focus, I think you'll like the critters I share a yard with here on the banks of the Arroyo Colorado.

To see other "Camera Critters," check out this blog where some really fine photographers have posted their photos.

Weather is Changing--and so are the birds

2011-02-10T09:10:00.005-06:00

I just talked with my sister who still lives in our Oklahoma hometown. Last week winter slammed them with a whopping 15 inches of snow--definitely unusual weather. When we were kids we hoped for even a few inches of winter snow. But as it turns out, last week was just a beginning of their amazing winter weather. Yesterday it snowed another 15 or so inches. And this morning the thermometer at their place showed negative 29.7 degrees fahrenheit!

Texas Baby's Bonnet, one of our loveliest native
plants, had just begun to bloom before the storm.

That makes it seem downright balmy here. Our thermometer says 32. Actually, this is our second freeze for the month. February blew in with south winds and a 70 degree day--about the normal for Feb. 1--but the groundhog and a strong norther brought us real winter by Groundhog Day. Although the little furry guy didn't see his shadow, we never pay attention to his winter predictions anyway. The last week of January had seemed like spring already according to our birds and all the blooming wildflowers and flowering shrubs.

Our neighbor's mix of native and tropical
plants was beautiful before the freeze.

Kiskadees had been calling and flirting and lifting their crests. Tanagers and buntings suddenly appeared at feeders. One of our Altamira Orioles was even inspecting the nest they had built and abandoned last spring. A Curve-billed Thrasher was singing its little "whisper song" from the hackberry tree every day, a prelude perhaps to its full-throated song during courtship.

The Summer Tanager and Indigo Buntings, uncommon winter visitors, were beautiful reminders that summer was not so far off and spring migrants would be arriving before we know it. We were getting huge flocks of Red-winged Blackbirds and cowbirds that emptied feeders at a budget-breaking rate.

This female Summer Tanager apparently didn't get the memo that winter was on its way.

But here she is after the ice storm, just as lovely as before.

Then came the frigid air mass that had already slammed the rest of the country. Since we have mostly native plants, I didn't cover them. I had brought in a potted milkweed, not because it would freeze, but because of the Monarch butterfly caterpillars that were just getting fat and would need leaves of the host plant to survive. Other plants will be ugly for a while, but it won't take too long to return to normal. I'm hoping it's a very temporary setback. At least this one caterpillar stayed unfrozen, if not warm, in our garage. [I have edited this paragraph since first posting it. I originally said the caterpillar was a Queen. Now I've decided it's a Monarch. It had only two sets of antennae, not three. I read about the difference on this very good butterfly blog.]

What surprised us most was not the four nights of freezing temperatures but the ice that coated the trees, shrubs, and grass. The photo at the top of this post shows the beauty of the ice as it decorated palm trees and the river bank. All day long on Thursday, a week ago, strong winds blew down sheets of ice that looked like crystal palm fronds as the freezing drizzle coated the fronds, turned them to ice, and then were dashed to the ground by the wind. I've always loved the way moonlight can brush the palms with silver; this was a similar beauty.

On the day the wind was scattering ice on everything, I covered my head with cold arms (protected not by my winter coat which I had left in Missouri, but by layers of hoodies and sweaters) and ran out to refill the feeders. Just as I reached one of them, a Pine Warbler landed about a foot from me. I think I could have touched it if I'd wanted to.

Surprisingly, we've had several Pine Warblers here this winter. I've written about discovering the first one a couple of months ago, a new bird for our life yard list, and I also posted another photo in early January. Both of these were pale birds, possibly first winter or females. The one that almost landed on my hand was a brighter male. I have been wondering how the changes we are seeing in our climate all over the world will change our wildlife. That's impossible to know for sure but I am speculating. Will weather change bring permanent changes in bird populations? Will populations be in danger or will they merely rearrange? Of course I know that there will be permanent disastrous changes if we don't heed the warnings. But for now I am eager to see what will show up in my yard.

Here's the Pine Warbler on a warmer day last week, dining from our Oklahoma State University (ride 'em cowboys!) feeder. I was glad to see it again after that cold day when nature was hurling ice from the trees. Pine Warblers are the only warblers I've observed eating seed. Several help devour the orange slices I put out (Orange-crowned and Yellow-rumped Warblers) and regularly sip from the hummingbird feeders (Yellow-throated Warblers as well as Orange-crowned), but until this little guy all but pleaded with me on the icy day I had not seen warblers at a seed feeder.

The next two pictures are not good photographs, but I am posting them because they are also new birds for the Yard List (not just for this year but for the 15 years we have lived here). Whether because of changing weather patterns in the nation or just because birds--especially winter birds--seem to irrupt in different places in different years, these are species I haven't observed here before.

Isn't this an amazing little bird? I know it's not a good photo--I had zoomed in as far as I could, and I took the picture through a not-so-clean window that looks out on the backyard. It's an Anna's Hummingbird which I had seen before only once in California. So you can imagine my excitement. At first I thought I was seeing a Ruby-throated Hummingbird when I saw it perched in the oak tree above this patch of shrimp plant. I thought it unusual to see a male in the winter with a bright gorget. Most are young or female and can't reliably be even distinguished from the Black-chinned which are also common. Then the morning sun lit up this guy and its brilliant rosy crown and gorget were clear. What a spectacular bird! I saw it several mornings, always in the shrimp plant, but have not seen it since the freeze.

Here's what the shrimp plant looked like encrusted with ice. Hopefully the Anna's Hummingbird found another place to feed. Or maybe it'll come back. Surprisingly, the shrimp plant doesn't seem to have been too negatively affected by its days in the deep freeze. This morning's freeze redux probably wasn't enough to hurt it any further.

This next bird is just as beautiful as the hummer. My first glimpse of it was also in the live oak tree. At first glance, I thought it was the Black-throated Green Warbler I had been seeing for a few days. Then I noticed how very bright its yellow color was and how the yellow extended down to the breast. A Townsend's Warbler! What a beauty. This photo is the only one I was able to take, moving quickly to snap a shot before it flew.

I'll keep trying to get this bird in a good picture. It showed off one sunny morning quite close to the deck where I was sitting, and stayed there for a long time as if posing. But, of course, it was one of those mornings when my point-and-shoot camera and lens had frozen as it sometimes does on balmy days when the early morning humidity is so high.

So our weather is indeed a little unusual. I never thought we'd have an ice storm. But if weather change is at all responsible for new birds, I'll take a cold day now and then. That is, a morning briefly at 30 degrees--not minus 30 as they had in my hometown this morning!

May be...a Phoebe

2011-01-31T22:00:00.001-06:00

In the bird world, things are not always what they seem. Or maybe I mean that some seem what they aren’t.

The bird above is a perfect example. It’s an Eastern Phoebe. I see that clearly now.

But when I first encountered it, I wasn’t so sure. I had gone out to the mailbox by the road to pick up the mail. My camera was slung around my neck because I wanted to get a photo of the caterpillar I’d seen on the milkweed. But I didn’t have my binoculars—I was, as they say, “birding naked.” (That means without binocs: I assure you I was fully clothed!) As I turned to carry my junkmail back up the drive, I spotted a bird perched on a neighbor’s gray-green century plant.

True, it was just where a phoebe was likely to be, but it was most definitely not pumping its tail as phoebes “always” do. I know they do that, and every field guide says the same. Furthermore, it was not a dark brown bird but rather a lightish brown one. The phoebes I see around here always seem pretty dark. At least that was my impression.

I downloaded the day’s photos to my computer but didn’t look at the one of my bird on the century plant until late that night. When I finally did, I had no idea what it was. I still didn’t think “phoebe” since I had (too) quickly ruled that out. Its head looked kind of big, and the crown was flat. I considered some kind of flycatcher. The photos did show those little rictal bristles around the bill. There was no crest visible. It seemed too big for a Willow flycatcher or some other empid. The more I looked at the photos, the more I thought it was something I hadn’t seen before. Remember it was late at night. Flipping through field guides, I started looking for flycatchers but nothing looked right. Finally I saw Peterson’s illustration of a female Rose-throated Becard. My sleepy brain (it was after midnight) thought that was a match! Oh happy day (or night, or wee hour of the morning)!

Of course it wasn’t. In the light of day I looked at the illustrations in other guides and saw that the color was all wrong and the cap wasn’t dark enough. My lovely becard faded with the morning light. And with a friend who said, what about Willow Flycatcher, size is the key. I replied that it was bigger than a Willow; it was the size of a phoebe.

That’s when it hit me. Of course it was the size of a phoebe. It was a phoebe! I googled images of phoebes and saw several that were almost identical to mine. A flat-headed phoebe that didn’t pump its tail even once. An ordinary, everyday Eastern Phoebe. Not a new yard bird or a visitor from Mexico.

Still, it’s beautiful, isn’t it? Clinging to the sharp thorny end of the century plant leaf, it was motionless, perhaps posing just for me.

A few hours later my friend emailed me to say she “didn’t want to burst my bubble” but my photo was of a phoebe. I didn’t tell her I had already figured that out. Bursting bubbles is what good friends are for.

I saw a phoebe today perched in a tree in the back yard. It was dark brown and pumped its tail ferociously. I laughed. The Eastern Phoebe is beginning to be one of my favorite birds.

Camera Critters: Green Jays

2011-01-29T22:19:00.009-06:00

If I were not already a Back Yard Bird Watcher, I'd be one after seeing a Green Jay. I never tire of watching them, listening to them, or taking their pictures.

I started writing a post a couple of days ago that I have not finished. I know, I do that a lot--which you know if you follow this blog. I am wordy, perhaps too much so. Sometimes I just want to put a few of my favorite photos out there without the words, and that's what I'm doing here. I've decided to participate in a meme called "Camera Critters" to share some of my backyard visitors -- without so many words. Watch for backyard bird shots every Saturday.

This week, enjoy the Green Jays who, with a few friends, are enjoying the orange slices I put on a feeder. (If you must have words to go with the birds, I've written about the colorful birds several times. Just click the labels list in the sidebar to find other posts about them.)

The flashy Altamira Oriole is almost as lovely as the Green Jay. Behind them is a House Sparrow.

Whenever the bigger guys aren't around, Orange-crowned Warblers fly in for a bite.

I've had fun posting my "critters." Be sure to check out other bloggers' backyard visitors at the Camera Critter blog and the links there.

Clay-colored Thrushes, Granddaughters (and other of life's beauties)

2011-01-16T20:00:00.013-06:00

Though no longer a "robin," this Clay-colored Thrush

still looks like one. Ignore that green bill, delicate

coloring, and lack of eyering. In black and white or sepia,
you'd say "American Robin."

I've done it again, though I made a New Year's Resolution not to--let two whole weeks pass since my last post.

I really wanted to do better this year as far as frequency of posts goes. Yes, there are excuses: we spent a few days visiting grandchildren, and we've had a week since of gray drizzle, even temperatures in the 40's and 50's--but I still resolve to do better by my blog and birds!

Enough of the excuses: here's the yard news for my delinquent two weeks.

Look closely and you'll see the little red berries this
frugivorous bird is foraging for in the leaf litter under
a Brazilian Pepper tree.

The Clay-colored Thrush is making itself at home in the yard, eating berries from the Brazilian Pepper tree in the neighbor's yard and the fiddlewood berries in ours. It likes to hang out in the leaf litter along the driveway because of the little red berries that have fallen among the leaves. I suspect there are actually two of the thrushes, though I can't quite catch them together. A couple of days ago one flew into an ash tree and then another flew to the fiddlewood. But when I looked back at the ash, the first was gone.

Until a few years ago, Clay-colored Thrushes were Clay-colored "Robins." I imagine the reason the name changed is that even our American Robin is not a true robin. The red-breasted bird was called "robin" by English settlers in America after the familiar red-breasted robin of England, even though the American version is clearly a thrush, looking much more like Europe's Common Blackbird or Song Thrush than a true robin.

A European Robin perches on a
spade in Peter Rabbit's garden.

I was delighted to see the European version of a Robin when I visited England and Scotland a few years ago. A cheerful little bird in appearance as well as song, it reminded me of illustrations in my favorite children's books. When a robin perched on the window sill at Beatrix Potter's home, I was transported back in imagination to Peter Rabbit's garden. (The trip to England and Scotland was my life's dream vacation not only because of the children's books I loved, but also because I had taught English Literature for several decades before I retired.)

American Robins are so beloved of Americans that I doubt the American Ornithologists' Union (in their official checklist of birds) would ever change the name, but the rarer tropical Clay-colored Thrush, White-throated Thrush, and Rufous-backed Thrush all had name-changes a few years ago, dropping the misleading "robin" part of their names for the scientifically accurate "thrush." These are all tropical birds of Mexico and Central America; in fact, the Clay-colored Thrush is the national bird of Costa Rica. In the 90's the Clay-colored version of what we called "robin" started showing up more often north of the Mexican/US border (that's when we had our first visitor) and even nested in a few parks and refuges in the Rio GrandeValley, though not in our yard. It's one of those birds that seem to show up where the birders are--which makes me pretty sure they have been more common than we suspect. I don't think they recognize human borders. It's just not an accident that they hang out in the same parks where birders hang out. I think they are in lots of yards when no one is looking.

Last week I went with a friend to Estero Llano Grande park, about twenty minutes west of Harlingen in Weslaco, Texas, to see a White-throated Thrush that is attracting birders who want to tick this tropical thrush off their life lists. I had seen them in Belize and Mexico but this was my first in the US. It was easy to spot--we just looked for the other birders gathered under the tree where it was feeding.

The White-throated Thrush is darker and grayer than the Clay-colored, looking a little more like an American Robin to me. I really love the coloring of the Clay-colored Thrush. Its delicate brown is unique but reminds me somewhat of the shades of a female Northern Cardinal or Pyrruloxia. The latter two birds seem to be always in the vicinity of the thrush in our yard. Of course, the yard is not large, but I have been seeing these two species, along with the light brown Curve-billed Thrasher, under the neighbor's Brazilian Pepper tree and along our driveway. It's as if someone said, "Okay, all you light brown birds, line up over here!"

A Pyrrhuloxia (female) hides in a grapefruit tree

A female Northern Cardinal's delicate coloring
is to me even more beautiful than its bright mate's.

And while I'm thinking of beautiful pale-colored birds (nothing plain to me about these guys, despite the bad rap brown or gray sometimes gets), I'll put forth the White-tipped Dove, a pale gray-brown dove with a pink iridescent sheen delicately coloring its forehead and throat. Its rolling, liquid way of walking out of the shadows and across the drive is really lovely. (I also love its huoo-huoo call, sounding as if someone were blowing over the top of a soft drink bottle.)

White-tipped Dove

Finally, the best bird I've seen in the last two weeks was not in the yard at all. It was in the Art Show at my granddaughter's school. For her submission to the show, Sadie drew an Indigo Bunting that she had seen in her yard last spring.

So one of my excuses for not reporting on the yard activities for a couple of weeks is valid. Even better than watching birds is being with our grandchildren: Sadie, her look-alike baby sister Jacey, and her three older brothers drew us away from the yard and up to their home for a few days. A year ago I posted a picture of the baby who had interrupted first-week-of-the-year birding last year. See how much she's grown (and how much she loved her first birthday cake) in the photo below. I'm always ready to leave the banks of the Arroyo if I can see such beauty elsewhere. I don't even have to use binoculars!

From brown birds to red-headed granddaughters, it's been a good two weeks. Today the sun came out for the first time in a week. Its slanting rays just before sunset tinted the banks of the Arroyo Colorado a golden brown. Life is good.

Post script (Monday): Visiting our daughter's family requires us to drive north about six hours, but at least we are still in Texas where it is reasonably warm. To visit our other two beautiful twin granddaughters, we drive considerably further to Missouri where winter weather can bring cold and snow. Here's a photo I received today of their sledding fun over the weekend. They, too, are lovely enough to tempt us out of our south Texas yard for a while. At their house over Christmas holidays we watched American Robins bathe in melted snow. Now after a week of Missouri temperatures in single digits, maybe those robins are winging their way to the Rio Grande Valley to join their Clay-colored cousins. I wish our granddaughters could also migrate here for a visit.

Berry Good Birding

2011-01-02T23:00:00.002-06:00

The Buff-bellied Hummingbird that became our first bird of the New Year yesterday morning had to get up early to beat this guy: the little Yellow-throated Warbler that won the honors a few years ago. Maybe his calendar is a day off--this morning he was the first bird I saw when I went out on the front deck. The sun rose at 7:16 this morning--and this photo was taken less than four minutes later. Using the camera's flash, I was able to get a picture that shows both the bird and the interesting berries.


Black-crested Titmouse

Gleaning insects from among the ripening berries of a Queen Palm tree beside the deck, the warbler looks even more picturesque than usual. I had taken a picture of the berries by themselves yesterday, but decided not to put it in my post. It just lacked something

But today the birds were as attracted to the fruit as I was--me for the beauty of the green-turning-orange berries; the birds for little insects drawn to the sticky sweet fruits. Today's photos have the missing element--birds!

The fruit will get more orange still as it continues to ripen. Some berries attract birds for the fruit, some for the insects they lure. This one will eventually attract the Golden-fronted Woodpeckers that eat the berries and maybe Green Jays and Grackles. It'll be interesting to watch and see what other birds are drawn by the magnet.

Orange-crowned Warbler

Blue-gray Gnatcatcher

A Pine Warbler and a Ruby-crowned Kinglet lit briefly on the palm, too, but I wasn't quick enough to capture them in that pose. I did get the warbler investigating a flowerpot.

That's the kinglet on the bath with the tiny yellow feet grasping the dripper hose. I had never noticed before that they wear "golden slippers"--in a much smaller size than Snowy Egrets of course.

The most exciting bird of the day was one I didn't see in the yard at all last year. In fact, I've seen it only twice before--the Clay-colored Thrush. (The last time I saw one, it was still called the Clay-colored Robin and was considered rare enough that it was on the state's rarities list.) Though it remained in the yard, and the neighbor's yard, for quite a while this afternoon eating ripe red berries from the Brazilian Pepper tree, I didn't have my camera. (I was getting error messages and had to charge the batteries.)

[Edited on Monday morning: When I first went out to walk the driveway this morning, the Clay-colored cutie was right there on the bird bath. Too early for good light, too late to remember a tripod, too far away for a flash, but I did the best I could. The color shows fairly well--isn't it lovely? The interesting greenish bill is also apparent. I intend to continue my paparazzi-like stalking throughout the day.]

Thinking it might be a White-throated Thrush (really rare, a Mexican bird that has shown up in the upper Valley this winter), I wasn't about to run in the house, change batteries on the camera, and miss the bird. Trying to take pictures with my iphone resulted in one fuzzy blob and several pictures of leaves. I did get a recording of its sort of cat-like call. The color of a Clay-colored Thrush is a soft distinctive brown, unlike any other bird really. Its throat was whiter than I remembered and streaked, but no matter what, I couldn't turn it into the White-throated Thrush.
Tomorrow I'll be stalking the elusive bird with camera in hand and hope to have a picture of the really pretty robin.

I'll finish with one more photo of a Buff-bellied Hummingbird, the early bird that was yesterday's New Year's baby, er..birdy. This one was sitting in the same fiddlewood as yesterday making its soft little call (unusual because it has a typically loud call that I described yesterday). Notice how its green throat is bluish? Some field guides don't even mention that bluish throat. Maybe they haven't seen it in the early morning sun along the banks of the Arroyo Colorado.

Happy New Year!

2011-01-01T14:21:00.004-06:00

Happy New Year: Doin' the Green Jay dance!

It's a windy cool New Year's Day. (I realize, of course, that's relative--most parts of the country would like a day in the 60's but after 88 degrees yesterday, we were hoping for better. We got home from cold Missouri last night just before the wind switched around from the north and dropped temps a bit. Though not cold by most standards, it's windy by anyone's--at least 30 mph is my guess.

Even before helping unload the car, I turned on hoses to fill up baths as soon as we got home yesterday evening. With no rain since about July, the birds seemed delighted this morning to find saucers filled and drippers dripping. Green Jays and Kiskadees sounded like they were celebrating the New Year, loud despite the wind. No birds celebrate quite as much as Green Jays. The photo above is a favorite one from summer 2010. Those jays looked as though they were dancing--that's not wind blowing their feathers, but sheer jiggling, twisting joy! Today was also a celebration.

Just after dawn this morning I took the dogs out and looked eagerly for the first bird of 2011. I heard it rather than saw it at first--a very loud Buff-bellied Hummingbird sitting in the fiddlewood near the hummingbird feeder near the garage. Our common resident hummer, Buff-bellieds are larger than the small Ruby-throated Hummingbirds and much noisier. Males have bright red beaks and all have green backs, heads, and throats with buff breasts and bright rust-orange tails. Certainly a worthy New Year's bird.

I'm adding something to the blog today. Reviving my twitter account, I have linked tweets to this blog (right sidebar) and will try to add yard-bird updates daily. Of course in 140 characters I can't list all the birds for a day, but I can add the new ones for the year. This is mostly for my benefit since I want to keep records of first-of-season appearances and birds to remember. When I started my blog (exactly a year ago today), it was sort of on a whim when I couldn't find the journal I usually wrote nature sightings in. I wanted a misplace-proof place to record the goings-ons in the yard. I am really pleased with how it turned out, except for the fact that I ended up writing longer and more infrequent posts than I had envisioned. Adding tweets may solve the problem of not really recording enough details to help me compare the sightings from year to year.

Birds aren't all we see from the yard and I'll tweet/ list other animals as well. I'm disappointed that I wasn't able to capture photos of dolphins that swim in the Arroyo--maybe in the new year I'll be luckier. Neither did I shoot (with camera, of course) a Bobcat or Javelina. The best mammal sighting ever was an ocelot about 13 years ago. I don't even hope to see another of those severely endangered cats from my window.

Here are a couple of other mammals seen from the house. I don't know for sure what the red deer is--it's definitely not our native white-tailed deer, being much larger and redder. We saw it during the Big Sit in October (which may prove that there are all sorts of surprises to see if you are just sitting and looking. As I said a couple of days ago about the Pine Warbler, I think many birds are here that I never see. And I think anyone that spends as much time looking --and sitting--as I do would see lots more birds and other critters than they do).

The people who own the ranch land across the arroyo must import exotics for hunting. Besides this animal (Red Deer? Red Stag? Looks like the ones we saw in Scotland), we've seen Nilgai which are commonly imported to ranches around Texas. (Yesterday just before dark I heard guns and hoped the targets were running fast.)

The wind is still howling (as Winnie the Pooh would say, it's a "Blustery Day"), but the sun is shining and the temperature has climbed above 70. I'll go see what else I can see from the windows on this first day of 2011. I wish the best of days and all of nature's blessings to all of you in the New Year!

Countdown

2010-12-12T23:24:00.463-06:00

With less than three weeks remaining in 2010, the countdown has begun in earnest--at least in my yard. I had hoped to have 200 species on my current Year-in-the-Yard List by the end of the year.
I doubt we'll make that count, but it's been a great year anyway. We've even added several species to our cumulative Yard List. Among them are the Magnificent Frigate Bird that blew in with Hurricane Alex, the noisy Green Parakeet that flew squawking through the yard in October, and the tiny Cerulean Warbler that flitted in the treetops one day during spring migration.

Pine Warbler?

Yesterday another first-time visitor dropped by for a bath: a Pine Warbler in its drab winter plumage, reminding me of why Roger Tory Peterson's pages of "Confusing Fall Warblers" always intimidated me so much. (If my childhood hero, author of my first field guide, most famous birder in the country, found these birds "confusing," how could I ever be expected to sort them out?)

Orange-crowned Warbler

Sitting in my "blind spot" under the anacua tree on Saturday afternoon, hidden by the camouflage of my little tent , I carelessly assumed for a minute or so that all the drab little warblers on the pedestal bath and saucers were Orange-crowned Warblers and the ones with wing bars were the White-eyed Vireos which had been hanging out with the Carolina Wrens. I snapped photos for a while and then put down my camera. When I looked closely without the awkwardness of holding a camera, I realized that one of the birds most definitely was not an OCW or any kind of vireo. Look at the photo at the top of this post--that little drab bird has distinct wing bars. It has gray auriculars (side face area). It is definitely a warbler, I decided. No streaks on back. definitely no yellow on rump. Maybe Bay-breasted Warbler? Pine? I continued to question myself and wished I had looked as long through binoculars as through the viewfinder of the camera.

Fortunately I had three pretty good photos, from front, side and rear. After consulting field guides I concluded that it was indeed a Pine Warbler, a first-time visitor to the yard. (Well, really, I'm sure other Pine Warblers have visited, I just haven't identified them. It's no accident that unusual birds always turn up in the yards of good birders. They are the ones who have the patience and birding skills. I know I'm missing things I should be seeing.)

One valuable birding tip I've heard is not to waste time in the field looking at a field guide. Look at the bird and when you can no longer do that, consult your guide. I used to miss good views of the bird because I was flipping pages. Now I'll add this additional memo to myself: don't forget to use your binoculars as well as your camera. I may miss a few shots but I won't miss the bird.

Here's another of the bathing beauties. I like to turn the dripper up so that the sight and sound of the gurgling, plopping, bubbling water draws the birds like a magnet. Water makes the birds look interesting--details that don't always show, like the orange crown of this Orange-crowned Warbler, are sometimes made more obvious.

I began writing this entry a couple of weeks ago and then didn't post it. I got distracted with last minute preparations for a trip out of state to be with children and grandchildren for Christmas . We left town a day or so after I took the bathing-beauty photos without seeing any additional species in the yard. But that's okay. I welcome all of our visitors, even the common and always multiplying House Sparrows and Great-tailed Grackles. It doesn't have to be a new yard bird to interest me-- but the count is fun. Blogging and keeping a Year List made backyard birding even more fun this year.

I'll finish the interrupted post now by adding the rest of the bathing photos. I'll keep the original date of December 12 on the post, but confess that it is actually December 30. I'm writing the end of this in a hotel as we stop for the night on our trip from Missouri to South Texas after a lovely holiday. I'm eager to get home for the last few hours of 2010 and especially looking forward to the first bird of 2011 to start my new list.

Here are the remaining photos from earlier in month:

Altamira Oriole and Great Kiskadee

House Sparrow and male Northern Cardinal

A delicately colored female cardinal seems to be anticipating the drop of water that comes slowly from the dripper in this bath. Just before I took this photo, I had adjusted the water so that it was no longer running as fast as in the previous photo.

This female Pyrrhuloxia is similar to the Cardinal but note the pattern of red around the eye and the yellow of the beak. (If you can't see her clearly, click to enlaarge. She's worth a good look.)

A pair of Great-tailed Grackles visit a ground bird bath. The brown female lacks the blue-black glossy feathers of her mate but is still quite attractive in her own way.

This shot of the driveway shows the location of two of the bird baths. Note the Cedar Elm that is beginning to show a bit of fall color now that it is mid-December. My little blind is hidden in the brush along the right side of the drive in this photo, across from the pedestal bath.

Okay, this guy isn't bathing, but how could I pass up an opportunity for another Green Jay photo? Sometimes I fill the water holders with seed since there's never enough for the ravenous jays.

A Long-billed Thrasher spends most of the day thrashing in dead leaves, but he hops to the saucer occasionally for a quick bath.

White-eyed Vireos seem to be bright, inquisitive birds. They travel around the yard with kinglets and warblers, eating small insects and singing cheerfully. This one was awaiting its turn at the bath below the fiddlewood shrub.

Who would ever tire of seeing the Yellow-throated Warbler? When they are not gleaning insects high up in the palm trees, they enjoy a quick stop at the bird bath.

One final thing to add to this post is a list of birds seen in the yard (or from the yard or over the yard) for 2010. Starting Saturday I'll have my 2011 list in the side bar and this one will disappear from that location, so I'll put the final 2010 list here. I'm a dozen or so short of my year goal of 200--but maybe some never-before-seen species are awaiting my homecoming tomorrow (Jan. 31) when I should have a couple of hours of daylight left!

A Year in the Yard: Birds of the Baughman Yard, 2010

  As of December 12, there were 185 species on the 2010 Yard List. With the addition of the Pine Warbler to our all-time yard list, the total (1996-2010) is now 265! Here's what we've seen in 2010:

Pied-billed Grebe; American White Pelican; Brown Pelican; Double-crested Cormorant; Neotropic Cormorant; Anhinga; Magnificent Frigate Bird; Great Blue Heron; Great Egret; Snowy Egret; Little Blue Heron; Tricolored Heron; Reddish Egret; Cattle Egret; Green Heron; White-faced Ibis; Black-crowned Night Heron; White Ibis; Roseate Spoonbill; Wood Stork; Black Vulture; Turkey Vulture; Black-bellied Whistling Duck; Fulvous Whistling Duck; Greater White-fronted Goose; Snow Goose; Mottled Duck; Blue-winged Teal; Northern Shoveler; Bufflehead; Ruddy Duck; Osprey; Swallow-tailed Kite; White-tailed Kite; Northern Harrier; Sharp-shinned Hawk; Broad-winged Hawk; Cooper's Hawk; Harris' Hawk; Swainson's Hawk; White-tailed Hawk; Red-shouldered Hawk; Red-tailed Hawk; Northern Caracara; American Kestrel; Merlin; Plain Chachalaca; Wild Turkey; Northern Bobwhite; American Coot; Common Moorhen; Sandhill Crane; Killdeer; Black-necked Stilt; Willet; Spotted Sandpiper; Upland Sandpiper; Long-billed Curlew; Stilt Sandpiper; Lesser Yellow-legs; Laughing Gull; Franklin's Gull; Ring-billed Gull; Herring Gull; Gull-billed Tern; Caspian Tern; Royal Tern; Sandwich Tern; Forster's Tern; Least Tern; Black Tern; Black Skimmer; Eurasian Collared-Dove; White-winged Dove; Mourning Dove; Inca Dove; Common Ground-Dove; White-tipped Dove; Green Parakeet; Yellow-billed Cuckoo; Barn Owl; Eastern Screech-Owl; Great Horned Owl; Common Nighthawk; Lesser Nighthawk; Common Pauraque; Chimney Swift; Buff-bellied Hummingbird; Ruby-throated Hummingbird; Black-chinned Hummingbird; Rufous Hummingbird; Ringed Kingfisher; Belted Kingfisher; Green Kingfisher; Golden-fronted Woodpecker; Yellow-bellied Sapsucker; Ladder-backed Woodpecker; Willow Flycatcher; Eastern Phoebe; Great Crested Flycatcher; Brown-crested Flycatcher; Great Kiskadee; Couch's Kingbird; Tropical Kingbird; Western Kingbird; Eastern Kingbird; Scissor-tailed Flycatcher; Loggerhead Shrike; White-eyed Vireo; Yellow-throated Vireo; Warbling Vireo; Blue-headed Vireo; Philadelphia Vireo; Red-eyed Vireo; Green Jay; Purple Martin; Tree Swallow; Northern Rough-winged Swallow; Cave Swallow; Bank Swallow; Cliff Swallow; Barn Swallow; Black-crested Titmouse; Carolina Wren; Bewick's Wren; House Wren; Ruby-crowned Kinglet; Blue-gray Gnatcatcher; American Robin; Gray Catbird; Northern Mockingbird; Long-billed Thrasher; Curve-billed Thrasher; European Starling; Cedar Waxwing; Blue-winged Warbler; Orange-crowned Warbler; Nashville Warbler; Northern Parula; Yellow Warbler; Yellow-rumped Warbler; Black-throated Green Warbler; Yellow-throated Warbler; Pine Warbler; Cerulean Warbler; Black and White Warbler; American Redstart; Prothonotary Warbler; Worm-eating Warbler; Ovenbird;Kentucky Warbler; Hooded Warbler; Wilson's Warbler; Canada Warbler; Summer Tanager; Olive Sparrow; Chipping Sparrow; Clay-colored Sparrow; Lark Sparrow; Song Sparrow; Lincoln's Sparrow; White-throated Sparrow; Northern Cardinal; Pyrrhuloxia; Rose-breasted Grosbeak;Black-headed Grosbeak; Blue Grosbeak; Indigo Bunting;Painted Bunting; Dickcissel; Red-winged Blackbird; Eastern Meadowlark; Great-tailed Grackle; Bronzed Cowbird; Brown-headed Cowbird; Orchard Oriole; Hooded Oriole; Altamira Oriole; Baltimore Oriole; Bullock's Oriole;Pine Siskin; Lesser Goldfinch; American Goldfinch; House Sparrow

The best part of listing a Year-in-the-Yard is that it motivated me to begin blogging. I won't have to find scattered bits of papers and try to find misplaced journals to know what happened in 2010. And the world of blogging is a whole new way of keeping in touch and even making new friends. I never expected that when I embarked on this blogging adventure a year ago!

Blind Spot

2010-12-02T23:43:00.006-06:00

Today was so lovely that I spent much of it outside. It was just cool enough (high somewhere in the 70's) that I could sit in what is becoming one of my favorite spots: a chair blind under the anacua tree beside the driveway. It's a little folding lawn chair enclosed in a small attached tent with zip-out windows. The birds can't see me--or if they do they are not alarmed--and I can get pictures of them at the birdbaths close by. The Northern Mockingbird above was one of my first visitors. He's taking a break from defending the ripening fiddlewood berries on the shrubs near the deck.

Another bather was this stunning bird--a Yellow-throated Warbler that hung upside down on a branch of the oak tree and then flittered in to the terra cotta saucer-baths. A common yard bird for us in the winter, it's nonetheless a special guest.

Green Jays are all over the yard, having had an apparently very successful nesting season. Even noisier today than the Kiskadees, with buzzy croaks and snores and cheh-cheh-chehs, the jays ruled the yard. The bather above looked unusual with its outer yellow tail feathers being the only ones in its tail! The jay below, messily eating the orange suet cake, displays the blue/green tail that is typical.

Green Jays don't seem to fly long distances. They fly from tree to tree, landing near the bottom and hopping to higher branches. They follow one another, tails flashing yellow V's of those outer tail feathers, and make a ruckus with their odd sounds.

Black-crested Titmouse

Other birds I saw at the baths from my "blind spot" included Carolina Wrens, Black-crested Titmice , a White-throated Sparrow, a Baltimore Oriole, Orange-crowned Warblers, an Ovenbird, Great-tailed Grackles, Red-winged Blackbirds, Lesser Goldfinches, and lots and LOTS of House Sparrows.

Since the wind was relatively calm today, I could hear birds all around me as I sat in the blind. Once, as I played my Ibird Pro app to hear the call of a White-throated Sparrow, the sound of wings and feet on the camouflage tent fabric startled me. I think it was the titmouse pictured above but I was "blind" in my blind, at least to what was going on over my head.

While I was trying to get a picture of the warbler I heard loud familiar calls clattering overhead. It was a sound I knew I should know--but since it was out of place in that part of the yard, I couldn't quite figure out what it was. To get a good look at the noisy mystery birds, I would have had to climb awkwardly out of the little chair/tent contraption I was in, a move that would scare all the birds at the baths, so I remained where I was.

Later, when my neighbor told me he had seen five large Ringed Kingfishers flying over our yards south of the houses calling loudly their wild clattering rattle, I realized what I had heard. We usually see this largest of our three species of kingfishers on the north side of the yards, along the river, in ones or twos, but today they were flying high in a group over the front yards. Later from the deck I took a photo of one of them. He's just a dot above the palms, but that shape is unmistakable. I missed the parade of five of the chattering giant kingfishers, but I didn't miss their chatter!

The most contant bird sound of the day was one that might be my favorite: the resonant rolling call of the Sandhill Cranes as they fly overhead to the fields across the way.

When I wasn't in the blind, I was on the deck that overlooks the front yard, another favorite viewing spot, especially nice since it's attached to the upstairs of the house and is convenient for viewing birds before I'm even dressed for the day--pajama birding. This morning I was rewarded for putting niger thistle in the finch feeder by a visit from American Goldfinchs and Pine Siskins. The siskin is especially welcome since it is not often here and because it reminds me of bird-feeding in Oklahoma when my children were young. Whenever it snowed, and the finches were thick around the feeders, my son would stand with arms outstretched and birdseed in his upturned palms, waiting for almost-tame-with-hunger pine siskins to eat from his hands.

A Carolina Wren serenaded me from the bougainvillea nearest the deck, the reddish-brown of his breast especially bright, maybe because of the morning sun and maybe because it echoed the deep apricot of the nearby blooms.

Out by the road a small brown bird with a white eye-ring called to an echoing bird in a brasil tree. It was too far to see just what it was though its call was distinctive. I'll figure out what it is and maybe post that later. For now, I'm including its picture because the background, so different from the wren's blooming backdrop, looks almost like trees in winter in northern climates. Of course, what it's actually perching in is not winter woods, but a brush-pile of dead branches.

Our trees are still green with foliage, but the winter of my imagination (where branches are bare and snowy Pine Siskins eat from a little boy's hand) can almost be seen in this picture.

Moon River

2010-11-21T20:48:00.005-06:00

The Arroyo is so beautiful tonight, as ripples on its surface catch the silver of a full moon, that I stepped outside on the stair landing to see if I could capture it in a photograph. Of course, I couldn't. This is as close as I could get. But you can see the glittering of the river and the black bank beyond.

A few years ago I tried to capture the beauty of the arroyo and the full moon with these words:

Invitation

I want you to see the moon rise full

over the Arroyo Colorado.

At first huge and red like a distant fire
behind the line of ebony and mesquite,
it will slowly rise to a silver globe,
pouring light across the water
in broad bands of sparkling waves
that narrow to a point
at the corner of my dock.

I want you to see dolphins touched with the moon’s silver,
roll up through the surface
of wind-rippled waters
and disappear in widening circles of light.

I want you to see, above shadows at the bank’s dark edge,
a deer, head lifted high,
glowing with moonlight
caught in the silver cup
of its velvet antlers.

I want you to see shining minnows burst in circles of sparks
across the dark waters
and hear pauraques call across the fields.

I want you to see the Arroyo Colorado in moonlight.
I want you to see
my South Texas home.

(Kay Baughman, 2002)

It's hard not to wake at night and go upstairs to look outside at the river. I'm glad I'm no longer working so I can stand by the window as long as I want, as long as there are palm trees catching the silver of the moon and owls that silently glide across the river on velvet black wings. Even on moonless nights the fishing lights add glittering highlights--but my favorite nights are the ones when moonshadows and moonlight embellish the landscape. Tonight is one of those.

Kiskadees, Kids, and the Rio Grande Valley Birding Festival

2010-11-20T11:59:00.008-06:00

The Rio Grande Valley Birding Festival last weekend was, as always, a great success.

I can't imagine a better way to learn about birds if you're a backyard bird-watcher just beginning to distinguish a kiskadee from a kingbird, or to immerse yourself in the particular (I didn't say peculiar!) birding world if you're an expert birder.

Hundreds of birders, butterfliers, nature photographers and artists come to Harlingen TX every year in November for field trips, workshops, seminars, and not least of all the trade show where colorful brochures and knowledgeable enthusiasts peddle all things birding: from binoculars and books to xeroscaping plants and zoos. You can buy (or put on your dream list) scopes, feeders, and travel packages. Valley residents and world travelers alike can learn where in the Rio Grande Valley they can go to find its avian specialties such as Green Jays, Chachalacas, Northern Kiskadees, Buff-bellied Hummingbirds, Clay-colored Thrushes, and Altamira Orioles. Now, I can find all of those in my yard--but I still like to discover the dozens of locations around the valley that attract our special birds.

And it makes me especially proud to see hundreds of people from all over the country and around the world marveling at our Rio Grande Valley. When my husband decided twenty-one years ago that he wanted to come coach high school football here in the tip of Texas, I had never heard of the Rio Grande Valley. I was a birder but a stay-at-home kind. On one of the first days of school at my new teaching job, I heard the raucus call of a Kiskadee and caught a glimpse of its black and white "hat" as bright yellow and rust flashed by my open classroom door. I realized that this was more than a place to make a living. It was a birder's paradise. We spent weekends driving to the many refuges, parks, and sanctuaries in the area and finally moved outside of town to the banks of the Arroyo Colorado where the birds and all of nature were right outside our window.

Kiskadee! Kiskadee!

As education chair of Harlingen's Arroyo Colorado Audubon Society, I spent two afternoons of the RGV Birding Festival tucked away in Kiskadee Korner, the bustling area of the festival that drew kids like a magnet (or I could say like a dripping bird bath draws migrating warblers or ripe fiddlewood berries draw Kiskadees).

It was so much fun. Area refuges, clubs, and environmental groups lured the kids with crafts, critters, face-painting, a five-foot crab (or a five- foot person in a crab costume), and a lady who could imitate (loudly!) just about any bird you could name. At our ACAS corner of the Korner, with helpers from the Fun 'n Sun RV park, we made masks of Northern Kiskadees, the "official" bird of Harlingen and mascot of our Audubon group.

I'm not an artist, but I looked at photos I'd taken of Kiskadees in my yard to sketch the pattern for the masks. The kids were wonderfully creative in creating their masks, don't you think?

Most of the the kids first said they didn't know what a Kiskadee was, but when we played recordings (thanks to the I-bird Pro app on my iphone) of Great Kiskadees, most said something like, "Oh, yeah--I've heard that in my neighborhood!" Looking at photos of the birds around the table, they hoped to find a Kiskadee in their yards. The idea, of course, is to not only have fun crafting a mask, but especially to learn about a really cool bird that they can see and hear in their yards and parks.


Kiskadee Kids Korner became Kiskadee Parents.


Parents like coloring as much as kids.

Below I'll share the photos I used to decorate our craft area and to introduce the kids to the Great Kiskadee. All the photos were taken in the yard. The one where the bird is gobbling a berry made a good pattern for the mask. Lots of our little artists made a berry to put in the beak.

One little birder spies a Kiskadee

Great Kiskadees build large, messy football-shaped nests of grass, twigs, and vines in native trees such as this Ebony. The side entrance makes it easy for the parent bird to look out for pesky cowbirds that would like to lay eggs in its nest or Harris's Hawks that raid the nest and prey on nestlings.

Ripe berries from a Manzanita (Barbados Cherry) shrub is a favorite food for this Kiskadee. The feisty bird chased away a Northern Mockingbird and a Curve-billed Thrasher for its place at the feast. In addition to fruit, Great Kiskadees will eat insects, frogs, and fish. They also eat mealworms from feeders -- and Meow Mix from the Cat's dish. Omniverous is a word that describes them well.

Great Kiskadees used to be called “Derby Flycatchers,” perhaps in honor of the Earl of Derby and perhaps because they look like they’re wearing derbies or round black hats! The gold crown on the top of the head is usually hidden.

This Great Kiskadee is definitely not hiding its gold crown! Raising its crest, flapping its wings, and calling loudly from the electric wires, the bird seemed to be celebrating the New Year when this photo was taken on January 1, 2010.

Kiskadees like to visit birdbaths on hot summer days. Water dripping into the bath from a hose or plastic jug will make it especially attractive to these colorful birds.

Great Kiskadees, like this one that nested in a yard beside the Arroyo Colorado, often live near water where they can catch small fish, crawdads, or tadpoles.

Coloring page from the Arroyo Colorado Audubon Society

This photo would make a good caption contest. What do you think this guy is thinking? I'm sure he's asking a question, but I'm not sure what one.

I like that this shows the yellow edge of his beak opening and even the little whiskery feathers beside the beak. Most flycatchers seem to have those. (Ornithologists call them rictal feathers.) I've read that the purpose is unclear and even ornithologists disagree: some think they help the birds catch insects by in effect making the mouth larger; some think they augment their sense of touch; some think they keep insects away from nostrils and eyes.

For now, it's a mystery. Perhaps some of the young visitors to Kiskadee Kids' Korner at the the Rio Grande Birding Festival will grow up to become ornithologists and solve such mysteries.

Sometimes it takes just one bird (or snake or insect) to make a kid a lifelong lover of all living creatures.

Happy Halloween!

2010-10-31T22:35:00.011-05:00

In our neighborhood we seldom see Trick or Treaters knocking on doors and asking for candy. But when I look closely, I see that Nature itself has done a pretty good job of celebrating Halloween. In fact, here are quite a few spooky characters I've seen around the yard.

Can you tell what's making this scary face? It's a pomegranate hanging from a bush in the yard. (I flipped the photo upside down so that you can appreciate the Halloween mask. )

Cactus blooms can also make faces worthy of Halloween!

This Fungus Face was hiding on an old tree stump--

Talk about disguises: the Walking Sticks in the photo below came to the party as, well...walking sticks!

What's a Halloween party without a few well-dressed spiders?

Another Silver Argiope is spinning her web.

(A flash from the camera lights up this Wolf Spider's creepy eyes.)

(What's in this web--is it spider or prey? No matter, the web is a masterpiece, a fine Halloween decoration!)

(Click to enlarge: you'll see the hundreds of baby spiders creepy-crawling out of their pod.)

Other guests at the Halloween costume party: a butterfly dressed in ghostly garb...

and another appropriately named the Funereal Duskywing, just perfect for Halloween haunting...

Some little goblin (bee or butterfly?) dressed up in a Flower costume:

and a Black Witch Moth (yes, that's really its name) flew with five-inch wingspan into our house and slept on the curtains:

Last, but never least, a night-time owl prowls the neighborhood on Halloween night: