May 2020: Still About the Birds

Highlights from this month included the following -- if you look back at the month of May historically at Standing Rush, it has been dominated by birds; 2020 was no exception . . .

I am always struck at how slowly coastal wetlands transition to green in the spring. But don't let
the drab tans and browns fool you: there is a mind-boggling pulse of new life and nearly constant change in the marsh -- particularly this time of year.

If eagles nesting on or adjacent to Standing Rush are "our eagles," than this is a pair of "our swans" from 2020, just setting up fresh quarters for a new brood.

Roy was embarrassed by his use of a Gatorade bottle for scale,
but it demonstrates the point: those are five big trumpeter eggs
that hopefully fledged as five more healthy cygnets.
The ecological success story continues at Standing Rush.

Another regular in springtime at Standing Rush:
a Bonaparte's Gull.

This juvenile seems content to be taking in some
welcomed sun & warmth.

Chalk another one up to the motion cameras . . .
The following are excerpts from literally dozens of trail camera images taken over an eight day
period on the southern fringe of the West Marsh. The mother Great Horned Owl (above)
accompanied what seemed to be three owlets individually on regular test flights -- day and night --
to a nearby, downed willow branch.

The last day on camera, the owlets were taking their test flights together.
Based on the timing of these repeated short flights, it is
likely the eggs were laid in early to mid-February
and the owlets were born in mid-March.

Despite the unprecedented cancellation of The Biggest Week in American Birding, and even 
amidst a global pandemic, the neotropical birds still made their annual pilgrimage.
Sadly, there were just precious few birders on site to observe their passage in 2020.

A warm May thunderstorm atop a fertile wetland is the recipe to fully break the bottled-up
relative dormancy of spring and launch into the lush green of summer.

Two Hours of Walking

Even though mink are a relatively common sight at the marsh,
seeing them through a camera, in focus (without Phrag right
in their face) has proven to be another humbling pursuit

Temperatures climbed well beyond the forecasted high yesterday afternoon (probably approaching 70 degrees), but unfortunately, so did the wind velocity (sustained 25+ mph out of the west with gusts probably well over 40). I scrapped plans for an inaugural paddle in new kayaks (more on that to come) and decided to scout for drain tiles to better understand runoff coming from the farm fields to our south. This audible offered the opportunity to carry the camera for a couple hours.

After clicking a few landscape shots for future reference, I got my first chance at wildlife images as one of the parent bald eagles from one of our nests made its presence known. Its shrill call was enough to get my attention -- even over the howling wind -- so I knew it was close. I spent 15 minutes chasing it in the air with the camera, a humbling experience for sure. It then maneuvered itself through bud-laden cottonwood branches before perching back on its two-year-old nest.

The unrelenting wind constantly tested the huge bird's balance. The feathers on its head and back pulsed "against the grain" every time the wind surged, making him look a little like my boys when they get out of the bed in the morning. While I was 50 yards or more away from the base of the tree, he (or she? -- hard to tell without a mate for comparison) seemed unaffected by my presence. But the shot below was the only time the bird presented its head for a photo. (I could have taken dozens of images of its posterior, however.) This again got me thinking about how everything has to work out just right for photography of wildlife to work out.

The eagle certainly had an easier time balancing itself than I did the camera in 25-40 mph winds

Three decent shots among three dozen bad ones -- gotta love digital technology; most of my images were out of focus,
very poorly framed, or both (click to enlarge)

My not-too-unusual finished product when attempting to take close-up photos of eagles (or any bird) in flight;
yesterday's wind actually helped because my subject tended to hold steady in one place longer than is typical
(not that you'd know it from this shot) . . . I just need to get a better monopod to help steady the camera

Bonaparte's Gull on the bayfront, taking on the black cap that is characteristic of spring breeding

Palm Warbler -- again in spring breeding plumage -- in a tangle of dogwood

One of dozens of Red Admiral butterflies that I witnessed either sipping early nectar or probing for minerals
(as this one is) in moist spring soil

I purposefully focused this shot on this Garter Snake's midsection; a recent meal made
for the easiest subject of the day -- dark soil, warming sunshine, and serious digestion
kept this typically slithery subject essentially motionless and clearly content

Birds Abound

Ring-necked Duck (background) and Lesser Scaup, or "bluebill" (foreground)

I'm finding it's easy to get spoiled working in my "field office." None of the critters I witnessed over the last couple days in the marsh are particularly rare. Thankfully in fact, they are all actually pretty common in and around Lake Erie marsh country depending on the season. That said these aren't ducks you witness waddling across the putting green or seagulls you see bickering over a French fry in a strip mall parking lot. For that reason alone, they are worth a share.

The two duck species above are both considered "divers," meaning they are heavily reliant on diving below the surface of the water to pursue and gather food -- most often fish. As opposed to "dabbling" ducks which tip and bob in shallow water (think mallards), the Ring-necked Duck and the Lesser Scaup are among those most comfortable in deeper, open water. Spring is our best opportunity for visits from these and similar species, as they migrate back into Canada (and beyond) to breed. These and another commonly confused Greater Scaup are great examples of the subtlety of nature. Ironically, it's the ringed bill of the "Ring-neck" that sets it most apart from the other two "bluebills." We'll get more into these specific species and divers in general as the waterfowl season approaches.

Greater Yellowlegs

If we have freshly exposed mud with intermittent puddles of skim water (e.g. "mudflats") in the marsh in spring or fall -- for example due to a managed draw down of water through pumping or a prolonged drought -- we are going to have Greater Yellowlegs. As with its shorter-billed relative of a shorter stature (the Lesser Yellowlegs), this energetic shorebird (another informal grouping like diving ducks) is a pleasure to watch.

Yellowlegs are known both for seeking food in the mud at an almost frantic pace, and their shrill call is equally recognizable. They typically probe the shallows using their long bill to catch insects and crustaceans of many makes and models, but it appears the one on the right may have stumbled into a finned friend. Call him an opportunist, I guess.

One of my recent memories of this bird ties back to the dike rehab project we did last summer. Shorebirds were making their way back to us, and I got a major kick out of watching my then 10-year-old daughter patiently chase a Yellowlegs down the newly graded dike. At over 5' tall, my daughter may have found a kindred spirit.

These Bonaparte's Gulls are another species that can congregate in huge numbers at certain times of the year on and around Lake Erie. It's not unheard of to see 100,000+ of these elegant fliers all at once in November. (Think in terms of a packed "Big House" in Ann Arbor or "Horseshoe" in Columbus . . . that's a lot of gulls!)

Spring groupings are typically considerably smaller. I peeked in on 10-15 still in their winter plumage. I loved that they were happy to loaf on old, decaying loosestrife root balls. Their dark ear spot is replaced by an all-black head by summer, so it's easy to mistake the two color phases as separate species. Either way, they are striking.