Tag Archive for 'Great Blue Heron'

Commute

Published on April 11, 2011 in Uncategorized. 0 Comments Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , .

The best commute in the world just got better. I walk three miles to work and back from my home in Ballard to Discovery Park each day. The winter walk can be cold, dark, and wet – but spring has come at last! My commute, formerly cloaked in darkness, is now bathed in light each morning and evening. The light reveals the surge of the season, with color and sound suddenly bursting forth. Daffodils glow yellow under the flowering fruit trees of tiny urban yards. Through the dense Ballard neighborhood I stroll, listening and watching for the Bewick’s Wrens staking out their territorial claim on each block. The Bushtits drip off of weeping birches along the parking strips. Black-capped Chickadees keep me company on the tiny trees planted in front of the ever-increasing townhouses. Even the Rock Pigeon’s iridescence is at its peak, as they coo and puff at one another near the play field.

Leaving the raucous crows, chattering starlings, and traffic behind, I enter the Carl English gardens bordering the Ballard Locks. The first to greet me (or perhaps the new found sun) is a male Anna’s Hummingbird. He guards the blooming starry magnolia tree with a fierceness belying his diminutive size. A late-departing Pacific Wren trills his long song, accompanying the Varied Thrush singing in the underbrush. They must wait for the winter snows to retreat before heading to their spring homes.

Approaching the confluence of salt and freshwater at the locks themselves, I peer about in hopes that winter has left some other late migrants. Sure enough, the Barrow’s Goldeneyes gleam black and white as they feed on the mussels and barnacles lining the walls of the ship locks. Double-crested Cormorants, who hold a winter roost in the trees lining the water, are busy fishing each morning after awakening and each evening before they retire. They, too, will leave soon for the protection of offshore islands to raise their young. If I’m really lucky, I can spy the bobbing head of a Harbor Seal, checking out the “catch of the day.” I have even been fortunate enough to have my morning reverie interrupted by the passage of a family of River Otters, scampering out of the water to cross my path on their way into a burrow tucked under the banks of salal.

Truly a sign of spring are the Great Blue Herons who have returned to the locks and the adjacent ravine where they have a large rookery. The light reveals sentinels at each nest standing patiently on guard, protecting the site while waiting for their mate to bring home a stick, painstakingly stalked and captured from a nearby woods. The lack of leaves in this early spring allows close visual contact with the enormous dignified birds. And nothing shields the ear from their dinosaur croaks and kraucks as they warn off intruders.

The path winds uphill through the woodlot containing the rookery. But the herons aren’t the only nesting residents. Black-capped Chickadees pound diligently at the rotting wood of the alders, excavating a home for their young. Spotted Towhees give cat calls and double scratch amongst the underbrush. Robins filled with the surge of spring hormones violently chase each other through the trees, alarm calls ricocheting off of the bare trunks. A gentler sound is the tiny calls of Golden-crowned Kinglets and the teeter totter song of the Ruby-crowned Kinglets, still clinging to winter territories before migrating to their own nesting grounds.

Leaving the ravine behind, I approach the busy street leading to the park. But the last house on the left has a feeder and I can enjoy the sight of Dark-eyed Juncos flashing their white outer tail feathers as they feed and chase one another. But I can’t linger long; the sharp drumming of a Northern Flicker on the metal flashing of a home echoes over the traffic noise, signaling that I am once again late for work. Picking up the pace brings me out of the cacophony of bus, car, and city noises into the green respite of Discovery Park. On my way to the office, I am washed by the spring frenzy of song. Red-breasted Nuthatches yank, Chestnut-backed Chickadees give their tiny soprano dee, dee, dee, Pileated Woodpeckers bellow from deep in the woods, and Yellow-rumped Warblers whit from tree to tree.

My morning commute complete, I look forward to treasures I may see on the return home now that spring has provided light at the end of the day.

The Tangle of the Seasons

Published on February 24, 2011 in Uncategorized. 0 Comments Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , .

February in the Pacific Northwest is a time when the seasons mingle like dandelion seeds twirling in a gentle breeze. Spring bumps into winter and together they land on the fertile ground of our minds eye. Taking advantage of the season’s wonder, a Ramblin Rose tour heads north to the river flats of the Stillaguamish, Skagit, and Samish. Here the birds and rich land spread their wealth for us to enjoy.

The early morning hours on the Stillaguamish river flats presented us with a vast mixed feeding flock in the scrubby growth of a cut over poplar plantation. This winter morning finds hundreds of these migrants feeding together – American Robins from Canada and Alaska, Dark-eyed Juncos from high altitudes, Lincoln and Fox Sparrows from distant habitats. Today they are frantically feeding and filling the air with their songs, practicing their chorus for a breeding season just moments away. Arriving at Port Susan, we are astonished and delighted to discover four Barn Swallows winging their way around the flat brown lands next to the tidal flats. Harbingers of spring, they have arrived in the rains and cruise through the air undisturbed by the winter landscape surrounding them.

As we wound our way through the farm lands of the Stillaguamish River we marveled at the huge numbers of waterfowl – countless parades of Mallards, Northern Pintail and American Widgeon. Deeper pockets of water revealed Bufflehead and an occasional Common Goldeneye.

Viewing the flooded landscape outside of Stanwood revealed a gathering of a dozen Bald Eagles hunched on the muddy field alongside no less than seventeen Great Blue Herons. The eagles have descended from their wintering grounds on the upper rivers where they had gorged on spawning salmon. Along the deltas, flood plains, and river flats, eagles had gathered for the last hunt before returning to their nesting grounds. The plethora of waterfowl attracted by the open fields would be enough sustenance for the eagles to complete the winter cycle. The Great Blue Herons were taking advantage of the receding winter flood waters to glean easy pickings of fish and voles concentrated in an easy dip bowl.As we watched the predators fill their winter needs in anticipation of spring, we were accompanied by the joyous fussing of competing Marsh Wrens. The wrens were staking out early territories; each male proclaiming his bit of dried grasses and sedges. Despite the limited cover these little brown “mice” were still difficult to see but lovely to listen to.

Arriving on Fir Island, we ventured to the Skagit Game Range. The sun had broken out and revealed a pair of Red-tailed Hawks perched together in courtship. Their bonds formed in anticipation of another nesting season. They were close together and their deep reds and browns blended with the red alder catkins drooping from the bare deciduous branches. High above, early Violet-green Swallows and more Barn Swallows danced across the blue sky. While Yellow-rumped Warblers – our wintering warblers – whitted below them in the barren trees. A Spotted Towhee trilled his first territorial cheeet cheeet song from the thorns of a blackberry bush.

We journeyed further north of the Skagit River where our picnic lunch was taken at the Padilla Bay Nature Reserve where despite the brief sun breaks, the wicked damp wind reminded us that winter clings on. But we enjoy our repast accompanied by several Bald Eagles, one scruffy coyote molting out of its winter coat, and a nearby singing Song Sparrow below a hunting Red-tailed Hawk. After lunch we continued to head north to the rich river flats of the Samish. Pausing at the West 90, we were overwhelmed with the sheer numbers of wintering raptors that abound in this area. Northern Harriers, Rough-legged Hawks, Bald Eagles, Red-tailed Hawks all in evidence throughout this confluence of Puget Sound, the Samish River and the rich delta. Was it 14 Harriers? or 18 Harriers? Certainly the Bald Eagles numbered in the 30s and the rarer Rough-legged Hawk numbers stopped at seven.

Exhausted by the wealth, we stopped at Edison to refresh at a bakery. But even coffee and pastry was no respite from raptors. Easily visible from the bakery’s deck was a Merlin perched high atop a conifer less than a block away. We watched his hunting exploits, scattering Eurasian Collared Doves to and fro as we preyed upon our cookies and brownies.

Before leaving the Samish Flats it would pay to stop and gaze closely at the abundance of Trumpeter Swans that had delighted us throughout all of the day – we listened with delight to their honking cries. Their glorious pristine white silhouetted against the gray sky. Landing by the dozens, the sharp contrast of brilliant new green grasses against the swan’s pale plumage, filled our binoculars with light. We panned the multitudes, enjoying the elegance of the white adults; noting the plumage change that was already occurring for the young of last year. Their drab gray was peppered with sparkling new white adult feathers. As we watched the elegant swans, the sound of Horned Larks twinkled through the air – foretelling of spring adventures in the mountains.

The afternoon was waning, so with one more long look at the winter gift of swans we headed out on to the highway – reaching 45 mph before skidding to an instant stop, for there amongst the next flock of swans was a singular Sand Hill Crane. The gray elegance reflected in the mass of white surrounding it. Was it overwintering with this flock or stopping by on its way north for breeding season?

We had time for one more stop on the way south. We made our way back to the North Fork of the Skagit River on Fir Island. Here, where the saltwater meets the mud of the river, a rich mixture of grasses and cover make an ideal hunting grounds for vole predators. As we exited the vehicle, the song of Western Meadowlarks rained down upon us. A quick scan with the scope revealed over twenty yellow-and-brown beauties feeding in the fields. A few meadowlarks winter in western Washington but their song reminds us of the warmth of their spring and summer homes in eastern Washington.

Climbing the dike as the sun sank low, our attention was captured by the barking of Northern Harriers. The agitated harriers swooped down on Short-eared Owls perched amongst the driftwood. Soon the Short-eared Owls took flight, floating moth-like against the backdrop of a pink and orange sunset reflecting from the fresh snow clad Olympic Mountains. Marsh Wrens continued to sing a spring duet with the Western Meadowlarks as the sky filled with the cacophony of thousands of Snow Geese flying from the fields to their night roost on Puget Sound. It truly had been a day of winter mixed with the hope and signs of spring.

Falcons to Voles

Published on January 3, 2011 in Uncategorized. 0 Comments Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , .

Peregrine Falcon! The gentle gray dawn has revealed our first bird of the day. A majestic adult female perched on a cottonwood at the Nisqually Wildlife Refuge. The Ramblin’ Rose tour had stopped for a brief break on our way south to the Ridgefield Wildlife Refuge, only to be drawn into the wonders of Nisqually. After admiring the falcon surveying the wetlands, we were surprised and delighted to discover an American Bittern just feet away from the overlook. We marveled as it slowly made its way through the cattails, pausing to “do the reed”, and disappeared right before our eyes. The lovely browns and golds of its feathers filled the viewfinder of the scope. Reluctantly, we pulled ourselves away from the splendor of the Wood Ducks, the Pied-billed Grebes diving below, the Marsh Wrens fussing, and a myriad of other delightful species. Walking slowly back to the van, we were startled by yet another Peregrine screaming at the first as they cut the gray sky in an all-out aerial battle for territory.

Many miles passed on our way south as we tried and failed to count the plethora of Red-tailed Hawks perched on poles along the freeway. Our arrival at the northern unit of Ridgefield was greeted by the raucous corvid chattering of Stellar’s Jays and Western Scrub-jays. The majestic Garry Oaks provided cover for these bright and bold birds. Barely had we made our way to the top of the pedestrian bridge when our collective breath was taken away by a glowing white light in the distance. A large flock of Tundra Swans were punctuated by the regal brilliance of a Great Egret standing guard. The purity of the white scene beckoned us forward only to be stopped in our tracks once again as we were engulfed with a feeding flock. Carefully we searched the band of Bushtits looking for the gold in the females eyes. Picking through the chips, pssts, and ticks we discovered Fox Sparrows, Golden-crowned Sparrows, White-crowned Sparrows, and the constant talking of the Song Sparrows. Spotted Towhees mewed and Ruby-crowned Kinglets mocked the wrens with their fussing. Eventually we made it down to the bottom of the hill, lured there by the cries of Bald Eagles in the distance. The pair of eagles preened and posed together on a bare tree against the skyline. Our forward momentum eventually ceased upon the realization that our presence was frightening hundreds of waterfowl. The teal, mallards, pintails and others are very nervous during hunting season and they were attempting to allude the danger we humans symbolized by flying away. The distant booming of guns reminded us that their flight away from birders may be putting them in harm’s way. So we respectfully turned back.

Not that it was a sacrifice on our part – the main portion of our trip still awaited us at the southern portion of the refuge. Safely ensconced in our van, we began a slow tour of the refuge; using the vehicle as a blind, no birds flushed in our presence. We gazed over wetlands filled with Northern Shovelers, Northern Pintail, dainty Green-winged Teal, and graceful Ring-necked Ducks. Close surveillance through the binoculars revealed Long-billed Dowitchers and a previously hidden Wilson’s Snipe. The road was flanked by two very wet raptors, an American Kestrel to the east and a rather rumpled Red-tailed Hawk to the west. As they waited patiently for their next meal, we were reminded that it was lunchtime. We paused to enjoy a Northwest picnic complete with drizzle and the company of a mixed feeding flock. The Oregon ash trees surrounding our repast were filled with Brown Creepers, Golden and Ruby-crowned Kinglets, Black-capped Chickadees, and – best of all – the very rare White-breasted Nuthatch. Relatively common in eastern Washington this delightful nuthatch’s western range only exists in this refuge.

Throughout the morning and during the lunch I continued to hear Sandhill Cranes crooning in the distance – yet we had seen none. Beginning to doubt what my ear was telling me, I was more than delighted to discover a family group of cranes just around the bend from our lunch stop. They stood head and shoulders and legs above the nearby diminutive Dusky Geese. These tiny burgundy-breasted geese were the reason the refuge had been created. This sanctuary provided a winter respite for their diminishing numbers. The beauty of these statuesque cranes and dainty geese were in sharp contrast to the frighteningly “ugly” nutria swimming about in the deeper waters. These invasive rodents escaped from the fur trade and have proliferated with abandon. Fortunately while watching a family of these pinched-faced “muskrats on steroids,” we were delighted to spot yet another Bittern! So difficult to detect, and yet now we were gazing at our second one of the day.

As difficult as it was, we needed to tear ourselves away from these wonderful wetlands and head back to Seattle. Fondly gazing at hundreds of Tundra Swans, their distinctive yellow spot glowing in the gray, we slowly headed into the final turns. But wait! In the grasslands, very close to the road, undeterred by our presence was a Great Blue Heron in full hunting mode. It slowly and stealthily leaned forward. A silent jab into the grasses and an instant later a vole was dangling from its beak. EEEEEeeeeeeh! cried the vole just before it disappeared down the heron’s throat. Blahhh… nature is not always pretty. A bit shaken by the “eating alive” scenario, we nervously looked about for a bit of beauty for our last visual of the day. The plethora of voles in these grasslands produced just what we needed. A coyote, healthy and vibrant, pounced nearby and a male Northern Harrier – a gray ghost in the mist – coursed low over the field. Holding tightly to these images and many other memories of the day; we turned north toward Seattle.

Birding Memories

Published on May 4, 2010 in Uncategorized. 0 Comments Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , .

I have been birding A LOT lately – every free day has been filled with trips to remarkable and amazing places filled with spectacular species. But with so much birding activity the memories has become soft like the fading of an old favorite photograph. Looking back through an opaque glass of my memories certain moments stand out clearly as if they were still happening today. The magic of discovering a sleeping Merlin in Othello, the joy of witnessing Wilson Snipes in a competing aerial display, and the agony of watching a Killdeer lure us away from her nest with the broken wing display. These birding jewels punctuate the mind but unexpected moments stand out clearly.

Dawn at Lower Crab Creek the air is filled with the calls of multiples skeins of geese and flocks of Sandhill Cranes flying into a nearby field. The soft light of the morning catches a spring wonder, a slice into a spectacular centuries old tradition – the cranes are dancing! These enormous birds leap into the air, flapping their wings, and waggling their bustles, sealing the bonds that will keep them together through the nesting season.

Driving through the sun drenched Yakima Canyon on the way to Fort Simcoe a client calls from the back seat Big! White! Tall! Big and White! – stammering her way through a description that fails her. I quickly pull off the road only to discover a group of American White Pelicans standing in the low water of the Yakima River. They are stunning in purest white with brilliant orange and yellow on their faces – full breeding plumage. These enormous birds contrast sharply with the rugged basalt canyon walls – seemingly out of place yet comfortable in their stark beauty. I am momentarily distracted from the spectacle by a memory of a Golden Eagle nest. Using the spotting scope I scan the cliff faces to see if the eagles are still in residence and am startled and overjoyed to see several small family groups of Big Horn Sheep. We all delight in the antics of the tiny newborn sheep. Death defying wobbles on the sheer cliffs keep us holding our breaths.

Scanning a flooded field north of Toppenish National Wildlife Refuge with our spotting scope we are surprised to see a Greater Yellowlegs lying down on the edge of a small island. Such a tall shore bird in deep repose with its distinctive legs tucked underneath its body is somewhat unusual. But not for long, an oblivious drake Mallard wanders in the Yellowleg’s direction and practically steps on the resting bird. Both look extremely startled when the collision occurs. The Yellowlegs too, too, toos away, while the Mallard continues to waddle on its own merry way.

Gathered together with a group of neighbors and friends we birded the Ballard Locks on an early Sunday morning. The birds were much to be expected with gleaming Barrow’s Goldeneye, and Double-crested Cormorants sporting crests and emerald green eyes glowing in the orange/yellow faces, but once we arrived at the Great Blue Heron rookery things took a turn for the exciting. While admiring the stately plumed grace of a heron adding a limb to its nest someone cried Wren! Nesting! Sure enough a pair of Bewick’s Wrens were constructing a nest less than ten feet away from the trail. And what a nest, it was! Two feet deep, less than three feet above the ground with a vast amount of nesting material packed behind the loose bark of an alder tree.

At first glance it had the appearance of a Brown Creeper Nest on steroids. The male and female worked diligently and failed to take note of the large group of birders admiring their work, nor the raccoon who ambled past. Now we were torn between heron and wren watching till another cry went up in the group. Turning we were amazed to see a pair of Black-capped Chickadees excavating a nest hole less that a foot away from the trail. But it wasn’t just the closeness that was so remarkable but the tree they had chosen. This snag was less that four inches around – I could have easily encircled it with both hands overlapping. Surely they weren’t going to nest there!? But excavate they did, with all the seriousness this ludicrous site could afford them.

All together each and every bird trip was an engaging wonderful experience but the unexpected will stand out in memories for years to come.

Ballard Locks- When Winter Meets Spring

Published on March 19, 2010 in Uncategorized. Closed Tags: , , , , , , , , , .

When winter meets spring – what a marvelous time of year in the Pacific Northwest and what better place to experience this junction than the Ballard Locks in Seattle? Here saltwater meets freshwater and forest meets the garden, joining multiple habitats where residents and migrants mingle in this dawn of the year. I have chosen this unique time and place to lead a Seattle Audubon Bird Tour to share the magic of the melding of seasons and habitats.

Arriving early, I am greeted with the long melodious vibrato of the resident Winter Wren clearing the air with its 300-note song. This tiny songster is joined by the migrant Varied Thrush, whose discordant monosyllabic song rings through the garden. As the Audubon group arrives, a male Anna’s Hummingbird shows off his squeaky metallic song from the top of a Wax Myrtle, attempting to impress the females who are nesting nearby.

A quick “Whit!” draws our attention to a winter resident, the Yellow-rumped Warbler, who is getting her fill of insects taking flight in the warm morning air. The warbler is powering up for the long migration back north.

Tearing ourselves away from all of this activity we continue to explore the rest of the Carl S. English Gardens. The gardens provide a lovely place of refuge for locals and
tourists alike, all of whom can enjoy the spectacular landscape all year round. Our attention is drawn away from the Starry Magnolia in full bloom to an ancient Blue Atlas Cedar. It is not the tremendous height of this tree that is alluring, but the decoration of dozens of Great Blue Herons posed in a stately manner throughout its branches. As we gaze through our binoculars and spotting scopes, the stillness of the scene is awe inspiring.

Closer examination shows all the herons are sporting lovely white breeding plumes on their necks and chest. They are gathering for their pre-nesting social. Their rookery is located in the forest just south of the Locks, and they gather here in the garden prior to starting the long, arduous nesting season.

The rattling call of a Belted Kingfisher pulls us toward the water. A chase is on between the resident male and any other kingfisher who dares enter his territory. The kingfisher’s feeding area at the locks is rich with young salmon, who are leaving the relative safety of freshwater and entering the first stages of their lives in saltwater.

Belted Kingfisher. Photo by Greg Thompson.

Other fish-feeding birds are in evidence with Doublecrested Cormorants perched high on light posts, spreading their wings to dry in the morning sun. A closer examination in my spotting scope shows some of the cormorants beginning to grow their double crests in anticipation of nesting season. Soon they will depart the locks and return to offshore islands to raise their young.

Scanning the water reveals a multitude of migrant waterfowl in full breeding plumage, feeding for the last few days before spring departure. Greater and Lesser Scaup, Bufflehead, Common Mergansers, Barrow’s and Common Goldeneye. Soon we’ll only be left with Gadwall and Mallards, tough urban species who will nest in marginal blackberry brambles.

Soon we notice the herons have left the “dance floor” of the Blue Atlas Cedar and are now gathering in the young alders lining the south side of the saltwater arena. A great deal of slow-motion posturing begins to take place. Thin branches from the alders are stalked and removed by the strong, fish-killing beaks. Rather than fly back to the rookery with the sticks (as they will in a week or so) instead they pose, manipulate, and generally show off their stick-gathering prowess.

While we are watching this ancient dance the herons are joined by a mixed feeding flock of Black-capped and Chestnutbacked Chickadees, Bushtits, and Pine Siskens- a reminder that it’s still winter for many small birds who have yet to break into pairs.

We end our rich morning in the Kiwanis Ravine, a forested area just above the Locks, to admire the Great Blue Heron rookery. Large stick nests laden the alders and maples in the ravine, quietly waiting for the spring frenzy that is soon to come.