Eat More Birds
I need a new marketing slogan. And I think it might be “Eat More Birds.”
I guide birdwatching trips. No, we don’t eat birds on my outings. We watch birds. You know, ecotourism. But I’m considering the new slogan because Chick-fil-A, whose slogan is EAT MOR CHIKIN, is threatening another Vermonter like me.
Bo Muller-Moore has built a tiny business around the slogan Eat More Kale. Bo prints T-shirts by hand that say, Eat More Kale. He also puts the slogan on little green stickers. Chick-fil-A wants to put Bo out of business.
Kale versus chicken. I guess Chick-fil-A can’t tell the difference between its paltry poultry and a nutritious, leafy plant. My slogan would be easier to confuse with chicken. But that’s the point – and why I like Eat More Birds. read more…
Snowy Owl Alert
If you live in the north, you’re probably not too far from a Snowy Owl right now. An arctic invasion has reached northern states. And with the snow all gone, white owls should stand out in the barren hinterlands. Look for them in open habitat: farm fields, airports, oceanside dunes and islands, for example, and expect them to sit slightly higher than grade, on fence posts, hay bales, farm buildings and as high as utility poles. I’ve even seen one atop a lamp post in a shopping center.
Conventional wisdom holds that Snowy Owls, particularly the young birds, move south when lemming populations crash. Food supply does motiviate birds (as it does people). But some new field work, ably reported by my pal and colleague Kent McFarland, suggests that Snowy Owls can show up in the US when food supplies to the north are actually abundant. Lots of food may mean that lots of owls, particularly young owls, survive until winter, at which point the adults chase them from arctic feeding areas to fend for themselves. Those young birds often land in northern states.
I’ve included a few maps here – from eBird – with Snowy Owl sightings during November. Note how “coastal” their distribution seems (or at least that many are being discovered on shorelines, where birders tend to go). So here in Vermont, Lake Champlain is certainly in play. Here’s an interactive eBird map with Snowy sightings. (When you view this map click the “Show Points Sooner” box on the right for a better view of sites.) It’s a safe assumption that many more Snowy Owls are yet to be found. Post your discoveries in the comments section below. Happy hunting!
Give me two hours and I’ll give you photography enlightenment. Well, OK, at the very least I’ll give you the gift of better photos (in time for the holidays). I’ve distilled 11 hours of my digital photography workshops into a single, two-hour session on the essentials.
Friday, December 2, 7-9pm at First Baptist Church of Montpelier
Fee: $10
You’ll learn vital principles of photography (shutter speed, aperture and metering) and why they’re critical to getting good photos. You’ll finally understand and put to use the dials and buttons on your point-and-shoot camera. You’ll get refreshments, a handout and wisdom for capturing beauty in your world. Here are directions to the First Baptist Church, which is down the street from Kellogg-Hubbard Library and has plenty of on-street parking. No need to register. Just bring your camera!
Counting Geese
Birders give or take a few thousand when we count Snow Geese at Dead Creek Wildlife Management Area in Addison, Vermont. Back in the day, Dead Creek was a critical stopover for tens of thousands of Greater Snow Geese migrating from breeding grounds in eastern eastern arctic (even into northwestern Greenland) to the mid Atlantic Coast (and points inland) from roughly New Jersey to North Carolina. Now, not so much.
But Snow Geese still stop. Counts have reached roughly 5000 at various points this fall. On November 26 the count was 3693. On November 1 it was 4641. How do we know? Ian Worley flew with them … well, sort of. Dr. Worley, Professor Emeritus and Former Director of the Environmental Program at the University of Vermont (and a pilot), took an aerial shot of the geese in flight on Saturday. He does that now and then. Ian lands the plane, comes home, prints the image, sits down with a fine-tipped pen and methodically counts those little white specks.
Ian’s most recent image also illustrates a point about Snow Goose flight formations. Birds in migration or during regional movements often travel in diagonal lines or V-shaped flocks. But Ian points out a different formation during short flights, such as here above their stopover spot in the Champlain Valley. He writes:
By the way, most people think all geese form Vs when they fly. As you probably know, Snow Geese fly in bows, especially the leading edge. This picture shows it well, and definitely shows the flight is towards the top left. There are many bows all the way to the rear of the flock.
See it for yourself! Thanks, Ian!
Thanksgiving Birds
Sorry, no turkey. Here are Purple Sandpiper and Harlequin Duck, both of which I encountered during a pleasant day of birding at Cape Ann in Massachusetts last weekend. They breed in the Arctic. Harlequin Ducks nest along rushing rivers, which is probably why they do fine in surf crashing along rocky shorelines while wintering in the north Pacific and Atlantic. Purple Sandpiper winters farther north than any shorebird; they’re here now along the north Atlantic coast. Most shorebirds by now are in South America.
No King Eider out there … yet. But we’ll look for them while enjoying Harlequin Duck, Purple Sandpiper and many other classic winter species, perhaps even the Dovekie pictured there to the far right, during my Vermont Bird Tours coastal outing on January 9. See you when the Eiders fly!
Winter Finch Preview – Pine Grosbeak
Pine Grosbeaks could be in your future this winter. These finches of the boreal forest occasionally drift south in winter in search of food. The fruit supply in their breeding range to the north may not be so, well, OK, “fruitful.” But at least here in the New England, the table is set with an abundant crop of mountain ash and crab apple. That’s the report from the annual winter finch forecast from the Ontario Field Ornithologists. Your best bet for Pine Grosbeak is to watch the flowering (now fruiting) crab apples in your favorite city or town. Keep me posted!
Blue Fuzzy-Butt Alert
They float in hardwood forests on calm November days, like tiny wisps of powder-blue lint. If you’re not careful, you might dismiss them as the floating seeds from goldenrod, aster or some other composite plant. But watch for the hint of blue and the powered flight of a determined insect. Watch carefully; these are tiny, I mean really tiny.
Now flying somewhere near you, this is the adult form of Wooly Aphid. Most of us see these insects as clumps on Speckled Alder (two photos below). In this form they thrive by sucking plant fluids and covering themselves with a waxy white layer resembling cotton or wool.
The fuzzy, flying adults are more cosmopolitan; I’ve seen them on the wing in downtown Montpelier. That’s the thing about wings — insects do use them to get around. read more…
Mainly Birding
A Lapland Longspur nearly in our laps. A Lark Sparrow out East on a lark. And Harlequin Ducks having us shouting out in joy. So it went on the Vermont Bird Tours annual trip to Coastal Maine.
Out here you need not go to the high arctic to see those longspurs. (Yeah, their hind toe is long.) In winter they move south, often dropping in along the coast, like that one pictured here at Dyer Point in Cape Elizabeth, Maine. Joining it was an Ipswitch Sparrow (drat, no photo). It’s a pure Easterner, a race of the widespread Savannah Sparrow that breeds only on Sable Island, Nova Scotia. It’s pale and big. And it’s always a nice find on the coast.
Meanwhile, from the coast of Maine, the nearest nesting Lark Sparrow population is in Ohio. So it was with some surprise when a Lark Sparrow, darting by, narrowly escaped my windshield. I slammed on the brakes. The sparrow took off. But we relocated him around the corner. 
Lark Sparrows (over there to the right) breed in prairies and other openings across the continent’s Plains and portions of the West. But the species has a thing for the East coast in fall. We routinely see them on the Monhegan Island trip, for example. So it was only with “some surprise” that we bumped into one (almost literally).
Yet we were there for coastal birds. They obliged: Black Guillemots, all three scoter species, quality time with shorebirds, knee-weakening looks at those Harlequin Ducks and Northern Gannets. Here we are below practicing my favorite pastime in early November, watching birds at dawn on the Atlantic Ocean, this particular morning at Dyer Point south of Portland.
For our complete trip list read more…
Ten Tips for Winter Birders
Yeah, it’s stick season. But out there in icy waters, cavorting and splashing, the Common Goldeneyes will soon begin kinky duck dating. The male is on the make. His signature move is called the “head-throw-kick.”
First the head: while paddling around various females, he’ll thrust his head forward, then whiplash it back so that the nape of his neck touches his rump and his bill points skyward. He’s now poised for the throw: he utters a weird, grating call and then, like a slingshot released, rockets his head forward. Finally, the kick: he enhances the head gyrations by kicking water outward with his feet. The entire act is a turn-on for female goldeneyes (do try this at home; let me know).
It turns out that ducks get hot even when it’s cold. They begin courting long before spring. And duck courtship alone is reason enough to watch birds in winter.
Oh, sure, the rainbow warblers have dumped us for the tropics. Common Loons have left our ponds for the ocean. No more does the Hermit Thrush tender his fluty, rising serenade. But do not despair. Those same open waters, those winter woods and frigid fields, hold delights to the bundled-up birder. So here are 10 suggestions (in no particular order) for the casual and advancing winter birdwatcher: read more…
Halloween on Wings
Here’s a Halloween Pennant (Celithemis eponina). Few North American dragonflies have wings as ornate as members of this genus. Pennants tend to perch at the tips of vegetation and blow around in the breezes like flags.
