Posts Tagged ‘birds’

The Galapagos Islands

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Wednesday, April 25th, 2012

Gene with a statue of Charles Darwin

The Galapagos, an archipelago over a thousand miles from the west coast of Ecuador, is a strange, contradictory place. Extensive lava formations and exotic plants contrast with beautiful, quiet, sandy beaches and harbors full of yachts. Snorkeling and scuba diving attract young adventurers. For others it’s a more mythic place – with huge land-tortoises, creepy black iguanas, misplaced penguins, stinky seals, porpoises, and schools of rays. Limited numbers of unique birds are a bonus.

Two “celebrities” dominate Galapagos publicity: Charlie Darwin and Lonesome George.

Lonesome George is a huge Galapagos Tortoise who is suspected to be the last surviving member of his subspecies and “the world’s rarest creature”. But he was in a dark corner of his zoo enclosure, as uninterested in me as he is, evidently, in sex. His near relatives crawl freely if slowly in meadows and cow pastures. They also engage in extremely slow-motion tortoise sex, complete with guttural wheezes and moans.

Large Tree-Finch © Renato Espinosa

Darwin visited the Galapagos Islands in 1835; there’s a large statue of him, splattered with guano from boobies and frigate birds, near where he first set foot. From his observations of four different kinds of mockingbirds on separate islands, he is said to have first devised his theory of evolution. All four mockers originated from an Ur-mockingbird couple and evolved differently.

More interesting are the 13 (or 14, depending on how you split them) finches that are now the islands’ main birding attractions. These “Darwin’s finches” also evolved, i.e., changed their shapes and behavior as necessity dictated. Ground Finches, Tree Finches, Warbler Finches, Cactus Finches, and Woodpecker Finches: they’re all just slightly different. Even though they’re as tame as chickens, coming fearlessly with arm’s reach, accurately identifying some of them drove me nuts!

Woodpecker Finch © Renato Espinosa

Fewer than 150 species are on the checklist for Galapagos birds. Of these, only 23 are endemic – birds you can’t see anywhere else. Put “Galapagos” in front of the following species names, and you’ll get some idea of the variety of endemics: Penguin, Dove, Hawk, Flycatcher, Mockingbird, Rail, Martin. All are stuck on the Galapagos and worth stalking and ticking.

But some of the birds you can see elsewhere (Yellow Warbler, Barn Owl and Short-eared Owls, for instance) are slightly different from their continental cousins. They’re stuck here too, and better off because of it. Unable to migrate, Yellow Warblers on Galapagos, for instance, are slightly bigger, more colorful, and more robust in their singing than the ones that expend vast amounts of energy getting to North America.

Barn Owl © Renato Espinosa

Perhaps they’ll continue to evolve. If so, I’ll be able to add Galapagos Yellow Warbler and a dozen or so other species to my life list some day – provided I live to be 10,000 years old. Wait; maybe global warming will make evolution speed up a bit.

European Starling

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Tuesday, April 24th, 2012

European Starling by Lisa Densmore

Location: Red Lodge, MT

They sat like a line of loiters on a very long bench in a city park. Except they were in Montana, 30 feet up in the air on a telephone wire. They could have been in Florida (where I took this photo), Kansas or Oregon. European Starlings (Stumus vulgaris) are common wherever people live in North America. When they’re not hanging out on a high wire, tree or rooftop, they fly around in large noisy flocks, descending onto fields and parking lots alike, eating everything from bugs to berries, grains to garbage.

If birds are judged by the company they keep, European Starlings are the street gangs of the bird world, hanging out with aggressive birds such as Grackles and Crows and chasing other cavity nesters, even birds that are much larger such as Wood Ducks, from their abodes. Sometimes a European Starling will lay an egg in the nest of another starling or a different species of bird, leaving the childrearing to a stranger. No wonder European Starlings were dubbed “vulgaris”, though they weren’t always considered so lowbrow.

Wood Duck, adult male © Glenn Bartley/VIREO

In the 1890’s, a group of Shakespeare lovers brought every species of bird mentioned in Shakespeare’s plays to New York City, including 100 European Starlings, and released them in Central Park. Those 100 birds have now grown to 200 million. The fact that they can fly fast, up to 48 miles per hour, and live long, the oldest recorded wild starling lived almost 16 years, has helped them proliferate so profusely.

European Starlings can be rather attractive in the right light, with their winter spots and glossy iridescent feathers. Interestingly, they lose their spots in the spring through a process called “wear molting”. Their feathers don’t fall out. The white wears off. Each fall, the new feathers that grow in have white tips giving the bird spots again. European Starlings resemble stocky blackbirds with short tails. They are easier to identify by sight rather than by sound as they can mimic up to 20 different species of birds. Have you ever heard a starling and thought it was something else?

Mysterious Migration

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Thursday, April 19th, 2012

Cooper's Hawk, adult © Rick and Nora Bowers/VIREO

Raptors usually start to return to Manitoba in February and continue to arrive in waves right through April. I was in Ecuador for much of this period; so, when I returned I couldn’t wait to get out and enjoy the show. When a clear, sunny day with south winds arrived, I dropped everything and headed for the St. Adolphe Bridge. At this site south of Winnipeg I can often see as many as a thousand or more hawks and eagles on a good day. This day was almost a complete bust. Six Bald Eagles, a Cooper’s Hawk, and a couple of Sharpies and Kestrels. Big whoop!

This, I discovered, was not unusual. The entire 2012 raptor migration season has been a bust in Manitoba. Far fewer Red-tailed Hawks, for instance, have passed over the St. Adolphe Bridge than ever before. At Windygates, in the Pembina River valley south of Morden and near the American border, the situation is more carefully monitored. Rigorous daily tallies from February through April indicate that 9,000 fewer raptors passed the observation points this year than in 2011.

Red-tailed Hawk adult, Western, dark morph © Greg Lasley/VIREO

These diminished figures have led to all sorts of speculation.

An unusually mild winter, with almost no snow accumulation, and an early onset of spring probably minimized the thermals that raptors rely on. Perhaps higher winds blew much of the straw and chaff off farm fields, resulting in fewer places for rodents to hide and a dearth of the usual stopover, refueling points for the raptors. Drought in the southern US, especially Texas, could also have affected migration.

American Kestrel adult female © Richard Crossley/VIREO

Whatever the causes, our raptors may have been hit by a triple whammy — displaced on their wintering grounds, contending with troublesome weather systems on their routes north, and spread out because of the lack of snow cover here, they may have altered their migratory routes or patterns or styles. They may be here and gone, having used non-traditional ways of getting into the province and farther north.

Or they may not be here yet. Or their numbers may have been dramatically reduced.

Only time will tell. What’s happened to the raptors in your area?

The Bluebird Bully

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Tuesday, April 17th, 2012

Mountain Bluebird by Jack Ballard

In late October I moved out of the condo I’d been renting and into a house. Situated next to a couple of vacant lots with the backyard adjacent to a golf course, I was happy to find a nest box hung on a post near the fairway. Much of the winter was spent in speculation regarding what occupants (if any) might claim the box. Yesterday I found out.

While sitting in a favorite chair writing, I glanced outside to see a flutter of blue. The flutterer hovered over the nest box, then perched on its roof. As blue as the big blue-sky overhead, this male Mountain Bluebird was as pretty and energetic as any I’ve seen previously. He ducked inside the box, and then poked his head out the hole, like a prospective homebuyer appraising the front yard from the entryway of a house. He dropped to the ground to snatch a bug, and then winged up to perch happily on the top of the post to which the nest box is attached. How wonderful, I thought, to have such a beautiful bird for a neighbor.

Pine Siskin, adult male © Rob Curtis/VIREO

It turns out the other birds don’t like him. This bluebird is a bully. After a day of watching him harass Pine Siskins, Chickadees and House Finches from my feeders, I moved them to a tree further from the nest box. That’s spared the little guys, but the bully also shoves bigger boys around. A male Robin hunting for worms beneath the bluebird’s perch was promptly attacked and driven away. Ravens occasionally visit my neighborhood. Will he take them on as well?

Chances are he will. Bluebirds are highly territorial. Male Mountain Bluebirds can be exceptionally aggressive. With such a pugnacious personality, I’m wondering how well he’ll attract a mate.

Birding Ain’t for Wusses!

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Thursday, April 12th, 2012

Summer Tanager adult male, Western © Joe Fuhrman/VIREO

I wasn’t the least bit afraid of heights when I was young. I remember standing on the third step from the top of a 30-foot extension ladder to paint the peak of a house one summer. No problem.

I guess I’ve gotten smarter. Heights now make me very nervous.

When I decided to go to Ecuador, I knew I was going to have to deal with this. Getting up into the canopy of trees or above them via birding towers is crucial.

At the Sani Lodge on the Napo River in Ecuadorian Amazonia I got my chance to test my resolve. Early one morning we hiked out to a green, steel tower about ten or twelve stories high; I deliberately didn’t calculate the height or even look up to see how tall it was.

Scarlet Tanager adult male, breeding © Rob Curtis/VIREO

To keep myself from bailing out, I deliberately went first. Wet, mesh steps and minimal rails made it an added challenge. I put a steely grip on both handrails and willed myself up.

About two-thirds of the way up the tower I had to stop and catch my breath in the middle of a stairway. As I stood there looking straight ahead, neither up nor down nor sideways, our guide Domingo ducked under my arm and went ahead.

Within seconds he touched my arm. I was concentrating so hard, I almost jumped out of my skin. “Essnake,” he whispered in his version of English.

Ahead in a corner of the next landing was an eight-inch coil of lime green, diamond-headed snake. If I’d gone two steps further, I’d have been staring right into its small, beady eyes.

Continue up or head back down?

With instructions from Domingo, I turned sideways, grabbed the right handrail behind me with both hands, and cautiously inched past the snake.

Flame-colored Tanager adult male © Robert A. "Spike" Baker/VIREO

My knees were jelly when I got to the top of the tower. A 12-foot bridge was all that separated me from the wooden platform at the top of a giant kapok tree. I grabbed the rails with both hands, closed my eyes, and crossed it.

Once on the platform I opened my eyes and reached for a wooden support nailed to a tree limb. Domingo grabbed my arm. “Bullet ant,” he said, pointing to a huge ant about an inch and a half long. “Bullet ant?” “If eet bite you, it feel like you heet by bullet.”

We had a productive morning in the canopy. Lots of parrots and macaws and aracaris, an Ornate Hawk-eagle, and many kinds of brilliantly colored tanagers, to name just a few. The climb was sure worth it.

Going down was no easier. In fact, it was scarier. The snake was still there, and I couldn’t help but look down.

Back at the lodge we discovered that the snake was an Amazonian Palm Viper, sometimes called a two-striped forest pit-viper (Bothriechys bilineate). No one at the lodge had ever seen it on the tower before. It would have to pick my day on the tower as its first!

Hepatic Tanger adult male © Rick and Nora Bowers/VIREO

Variations in Rough-legged Hawks

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Wednesday, April 11th, 2012

Rough-legged Hawk by Lisa Densmore

Location: Lima, Montana

If you’re wondering where Lima (pronounced LI-ma, like the bean), Montana is, you are not geographically challenged. With due respect to the residents of this small ranching community in the southwestern part of the Treasure State, the only reason Lima entered my life was because we passed through it on the way home after a weekend in Idaho. I’m not apt to forget it. It took a long time to travel through Lima, not due to traffic – we might have seen two cars in two hours on the open road on which we traveled – but because we saw so many Rough-legged Hawks (Buteo lagopus).

Rough-legged Hawk by Lisa Densmore

They perched everywhere, on the irrigation pipes, on the tops of electrical poles, on fence posts… In this hawk-rich environment, I gained a new appreciation for this rodent-eating raptor, which is on the large side for a buteos, averaging 19 to 24 inches tall. With so many of the species in one place, I realized how much variation there could be from one to another. The typical Rough-legged Hawk has a dark belly, though it may be blotchy. A black patch normally shades the carpal joint where the wing bends, but not always or it might be very small. The wings have lots of white on the underside, and its white tail has a black band near its end, but the black morph has a mostly dark tail. ID-ing a Rough-legged Hawk can be challenging if you don’t already know the bird. It’s more diverse than Grand Central Station during rush hour. Fortunately, it lives in a less populated environment than mid-town Manhattan, making it easy to spot.

I enjoyed seeing its color variations. The phenomenon is not unique to Rough-legged Hawks. While each avian on my AudubonGuides.com app has a common look, variations occur. Have you seen birds-of-a-color that really are not?

The Undiscovered Egg

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Monday, April 9th, 2012

Eggs by Jungle Pete

On Easter morning, my baby escaped from his sleeping mother’s grasp, toddled into the hallway and found a basket full of “grass” and a few starter eggs. He then proceeded to instinctively embark on an egg hunt throughout the house. He was a noisy predator and was discovered quickly, but we permitted the search to continue.

Eggs in the wild are not meant to be discovered. They are buried, camouflaged or tucked away. They are laid singularly with maximum parental protection or in multitudes with the hope that a percentage will survive. The effort that reptiles, birds, insects, amphibians (and yes the mammalian Platypus) go through to protect their potential offspring is perhaps what makes it so interesting to seek out and discover eggs.

When an egg is found, there are often plenty of clues that suggest who might emerge at the conclusion of incubation (if at all). The cotton candy-colored, spherical eggs in the top left corner are less than ¼ inch in diameter and have been deposited on a blade of cattail in a freshwater marsh. Tiny Florida Apple Snails (Pomacea paludosa) will hatch and descend to the water just several inches below.

Many birds camouflage their eggs with unique colors and markings. As the egg descends and rotates through the oviduct, fixed pigment glands color the shell and create unique works of art on the eggs of the House Sparrow (Passer domesticus) (top right corner).

The five glossy white Purple Martin (Progne subis) eggs in the bottom left corner would be conspicuous in any hanging bird nest, but in the cavity of a tree or in a bird house, color serves little purpose.

Not every nest is successful. The turtle eggs in the bottom right corner were dug up and eaten. The colorless, ping pong-sized eggs were discovered, most likely by an animal with a good sniffer.

Brown Anole by Jungle Pete

Brown Anoles (Anolis sagrei) will lay one to two eggs in soft soil or under leaf litter. Their eggs range from white to speckled brown.

I can still recall the thrill my sister experienced when she found an Easter egg at my grandmother’s when we were kids. My parents were amused. It was the day before Easter and this well hidden, well camouflaged egg had remained undiscovered for nearly a year.

The Life List of a Newcomer

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Thursday, April 5th, 2012

Bird Watching

As we birders continue adding to our many lists, time moves on and the additions become slower and slower. This can sometimes throw us into a rut of boredom with the hobby. Recently, I’ve learned a new way of listing that’s brought back all sorts of excitement!

Having a baby is one of those whirlwind experiences that everyone tries to prepare you for but until you actually experience it, there’s just no way to truly be ready. There is excitement, loss of sleep, emotions, loss of sleep, visitors, and loss of sleep. Did I mention it’s hard to get sleep? Through this, however, comes a new set of eyes to experience life and everything we as parents love about life. Little did I know how fun it would be to experience some of our favorite things through her eyes. As spring launches early in our neck of the woods, it’s a perfect time to bring our new arrival (Lillian Rose) outside to begin enjoying the sights, sounds, and smells of our favorite time of year.

We’ve enjoyed a few walks around our property as well as at the Kellogg Bird Sanctuary this spring. As spring and the birds are returning, the chorus is getting louder and louder. Spring Peepers tend to be taking over but Red-winged Blackbirds and Song Sparrows are fighting for territories awaiting the females. As we walk with Lillian, we’re always quick to point out birds and sounds of birds even though there is little hope a 4-week old understands. Having said that, it’s just plain exciting to think about what Lillian’s first true life bird will be when she’s old enough to understand. I can just picture her screaming SWAN or HAWK when in reality; it will probably be simply “birdy!” Whether our little one becomes a birder like Dad or she chooses to enjoy other things, we know she is destined to at least love being outside as this will be a major part of her life growing up. Either way, to think of experiencing all the new things through her sweet little eyes make all the sleepless nights that much more worthwhile.

The Haas Family!

Just for fun, why don’t our readers jump over to the Audubon Guides Facebook page and comment what you think Lillian’s first REAL life bird will be!!

Pine Siskin

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Wednesday, April 4th, 2012

Pine Siskin by Lisa Densmore

Location: Red Lodge, Montana

When I peered at our thistle-filled bird feeder the other day, three Pine Siskins (Spinus pinus) poked ravenously at the seeds. Another half dozen flitted from branch to branch in the dormant Quaking Aspen tree from which the swaying feeder hung. It was a nasty day, a blizzard. Dime-sized snowflakes streaked sideways by the window of our house. The wind was so strong the feeder was rarely vertical to the ground. I bundled up to get this shot, finding a modicum of shelter by pressing my body against a leeward wall of the house for the few moments I dallied outdoors.

The siskins handled the storm with much more aplomb. These little finches do not need to be upright to eat. They cling to the end of branches, sometimes upside down, to pluck a seed from a pinecone. If a larger bird finds a seed that’s too big for a siskin’s beak, such as a sunflower seed, they’ll flutter by, gleaning a scrap from the larger bird.

A Pine Siskin has a pointed bill that’s more slender than most finches. They are streaked brown, black and white with yellow on their wings, which is visible when their wings are folded.

During the winter, this little songbird often visits feeders in flocks, twittering constantly and rarely sitting still unless it’s stabbing its sharp bill into a pile of thistle seeds. I was glad a few stopped by on this blustery day. Though Pine Siskins are not considered rare – they sometimes migrate in flocks of 1,000 or more birds – they are notorious for being around one winter then gone the next. This might be my only chance to see them for a while. Have you spotted any Pine Siskins lately?

Too Warm, Too Soon

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Tuesday, April 3rd, 2012

Brown Trout by Jack Ballard

By now the record-breaking warm temperatures of March is old news. By March 22 over 6,000 record highs were toppled across the United States for the month, 710 falling in a single day. Here in the northern Rockies we didn’t see quite as dramatically hot temperatures as in the Midwest or the East. Nonetheless, daytime high temperatures ranged from 10 to 20 degrees higher than average for March.

Golfers, anglers, joggers and tennis players are loving it. Evidently migrating birds are too. By early March I’d spotted my first bluebirds and meadowlarks. Red-winged Blackbirds came even earlier.

Red-winged Blackbird, adult male© Greg Lasley/VIREO

Those birds, like humans, may be living with a false sense of security. A quick look at record low temperatures for my home town of Red Lodge, Montana, reveals it can still plunge below zero (F) well into April. Such a devastating cold snap could have dire consequences for small songbirds and the budding trees whose sap is already running freely.

But thus far, the most troubling aspect of the unseasonably warm temperatures involves the snowpack. With nights barely reaching freezing or not creating frost at all, the snow banks around town have all but disappeared. The mountain snowpack is diminishing as well, something that generally doesn’t occur for another couple of months. If the snow goes early, mid to late summer may see little water in the creeks and rivers. The rainbow, brook, brown and cutthroat trout of Montana’s rivers are particularly vulnerable to low water. Less water in the streambed means what’s left is warmer. In years of low flow, the water can become so warm as to become lethal to trout.

In reality, it’s too early to worry. April and May can bring substantial snow to the high country. Everything might turn out fine, but I’m guessing the trout have their fins crossed.