Spring Spectacular

My favorite azalea at the Jenkins Arboretum

What a great spring weekend!  I accompanied the dedicated group of birders that frequents my preserve for their annual Spring Bird Count on Saturday morning.  We were out in the field for 4-1/2 hours, during which time we tallied 65 species (and I got a bit of a sunburn when the sun came out from behind the clouds during the last two hours).  Included in the list were 13 species of warblers; they were the main reason that I went on the bird walk because the warblers are only here for a few days each spring and fall during migration, and I get "rusty" on my identification skills.  The birders all proclaimed this year to be one of the best years for spotting warblers in decades.

Actually, the great "weekend" began one day earlier.  As I was scooping birdseed from my storage can in preparation for filling my feeder early on Friday morning, I heard a terrific "thwump" on the window behind me and knew instantly from that sickening sound that a bird had flown into the window.  I thought it was probably one of the Blue Jays that had been at the feeder a minute earlier fleeing from a hawk. But no, it was an Ovenbird, an aberrant warbler that looks like a tiny thrush.  Fortunately, the bird was just stunned (and not killed) from the impact, which allowed me to gently lift it off the ground and give it a good inspection - including the orange cap that is almost never visible in the field.  I placed the bird back on the ground and 15 minutes later, when I went outside again, it flew off.

Ovenbird (Seiurus aurocapillus) Image courtesy of Audubon

On Sunday (Mother's Day), Kali and I invited our friend Greta to join us on a visit to the Jenkins Arboretum, a 20-acre gem embedded in the Philadelphia suburbs.  Formerly a private estate, Jenkins is now a public garden featuring a native woodland planted extensively with azaleas and rhododendrons.  We chose Mother's Day because the azaleas were at their floriferous peak, and the native woodland wildflowers cultivated throughout the gardens were also at their best.  In two weeks, the whole spring "show" will be over.

Azalea and Virginia Bluebells (Mertensia virginica)

I liked the contrast of the delicate  young maidenhair ferns over the strap-like trout-lily leaves

Along a path

Trillium grandiflorum (Large-flowered Trillium)

I am so jealous of Jenkins.  We saw only one miniscule stand of garlic-mustard (Alliaria petiolata) that the gardeners had missed in their quest to rid the garden of non-native invasive plants, and the entire property is surrounded by deer fencing.  So, Jenkins can support luscious population of several species of trilliums about which I can only dream (because trilliums are "deer candy").

Pinxter-bloom azalea

Our stroll ended along a path winding through a dense planting of native azaleas (Rhododendron periclymenoides).  These sweet-smelling azaleas have the common name of pinxter-bloom or election pink (because of the color of their flowers and the time of year in which they bloom).

I liked the contrast between the dark, coarse bark and the delicate pink flowers

Winter Traffic Jam at the Beach for an Owl

A traffic jam on Wildlife Drive; the white specks in the water are overwintering Snow Geese (Chen caerulescens)

Kali and I enjoy visiting the Edwin B. Forsythe National Wildlife Refuge just north of Atlantic City, New Jersey during the winter to observe the overwintering waterfowl; we've paid a visit on or around New Year's Day for three years now - looks like we've got a tradition going.  Because the forecast showed last Saturday (December 29) would be the best day for a week, we took advantage of the sunny skies and temperatures in the low 50s F to make our annual migration. 

Forsythe is always a great place to visit but, this year there's a special "draw": two of the large number of Snowy Owls (Nyctea scandiaca) that have erupted from the Arctic and which are spending the winter in the eastern United States have decided that Forsythe is good overwintering habitat.  We hoped we would be lucky, but we knew we'd enjoy the day regardless.

Upon reaching the refuge, we knew we were in for an unusual day.  First, the parking lot where people stop to register and pay their entrance fee was filled to capacity (usually, there are one or two cars when we visit).  Then, as we started on the 8-mile Wildlife Drive through the refuge, we could see cars everywhere.

Our first stop was a lone tree crowded by birdwatchers alongside the drive.  Sitting calmly about 15 feet off the ground was a Red-tailed Hawk (Buteo jamaicensis), probably wondering what all the fuss was about.

Male Northern Pintail (Anas acuta)

Another handsome Northern Pintail (slightly pixelated from being digitally enlarged)

Our second stop was alongside the drive were a large group of birdwatchers had gathered and were looking down the embankment into high grass and weeds.  I couldn't see what they were observing until one of the birdwatchers pointed out an American Bittern (Botarus lentiginosus) stalking mice.  Bitterns are so perfectly camouflaged that they all but blend into the grass and weeds they inhabit, so they are rarely observed on the ground.  I have no idea how these people found this bird (unless it flew in) because I could hardly see it even when they pointed it out to me.  This was only my second bittern ever, so I was excited.

We continued along the drive observing waterfowl until we came to a point at which all traffic stopped and everyone got out of their cars and crowded the verge.  Of course, we followed the crowd - and were rewarded with one of the highlights of our birdwatching careers: one of the Snowy Owls.  Jokingly, I said it looked like a soccer ball on the ground, and I immediately got some dirty looks from the other birders.  Below are the best pictures I could capture with my camera.  The first image was how the bird looked in the field; the second two images are digitally enlarged on the computer.  What a great day all around!

A Morning of Small Observations

I'm nearing the end of my annual series of censuses of the songbirds breeding in the deep woodlands of my preserve.  Using a protocol developed by the Laboratory of Ornithology at Cornell University, I spend three hours just after sunrise in the woods looking and listening for birds that have established territories.  I do this eight times each year, and have been doing it for 17 years now.  May's censuses are usually most interesting because the birds are active as they duke it out for the best nesting sites, but as the season progresses the territories are set and the woods become increasingly quiet.  The last two censuses are usually the least interesting.

This morning, the sun rising over a low ridge caught my attention.  There was a tree perfectly positioned between me and the low sun.  The tree diffused the light and illuminated the woods without blinding me--sort of a miniature solar eclipse.  The morning was calm; not a leaf rustled.  Nevertheless, there must have been an imperceptibly gentle north breeze perfusing the forest because, in the diffuse sunlight, I watched uncountable motes moving along through the air.  Some were animate, like insects and spiders, and a few insects flew counter to the tide, but generally a seemingly endless drift of dust, pollen, seeds and who knows what else wafted along through the forest with the current.  To be honest, my first thought was, "I'm breathing this!"  My second thought was, "This is a perfect example of what I tell my restoration ecology students about woodlands receiving allochtononous inputs from the surrounding countryside."  But, in the end, I mostly just marveled at the show.

Further along, I came upon a tiny opening in the forest patrolled by three hoverflies (Family Syrphidae).  Hoverflies are always a welcome bonus on bird census days, especially on slow, late-season days, because they can be endlessly fascinating--and distracting.  For the most part, the flies maintain their relative and absolute positions, getting out of formation only to make darting forays in pursuit of aerial prey and then returning to exactly the same spot.  Today, for the first time, with the woods so still, I noticed that the hoverflies' wings generated enough of an air current to cause the leaves of the spicebush shrub above which they were located to flutter.  Amazing. 

San Diego, Part 6 (final) (San Elijo Lagoon)

An attractive but exotic species of mustard at San Elijo Lagoon Ecological Reserve.

On our last full day in San Diego (March 13), my wife and I left my father's place in North County after breakfast and drove back to the city to stay with my brother-in-law. We were leaving on a very early flight the next morning, and my brother-in-law's place is a half-hour closer to the airport than my dad's. Although we got to my brother-in-law's place at 11 a.m., we really didn't have anything planned for the day, which put me in a bad mood; for me it's all about "structure." Eventually, we decided to walk the beach at Torrey Pines State Park near La Jolla, and off we went.

En route, we stopped at Los Penasquitos Estuary, just short of the beach, because I noticed large numbers of shorebirds and waterfowl. We birded the mudflats and pools for about an hour, and then my brother-in-law said, "I know a great birdwatching site just up the coast!" and off we drove to San Elijo Lagoon Ecological Reserve in Solana Beach, where we birded for the rest of the day. We never made it to the beach.

San Elijo is mostly salt marsh habitat, but there are small sections of coastal scrub, freshwater marsh, and grassy uplands as well. The diversity of habitats was great for us because we were able to see 28 species in the space of a few hours, and we were able to add several species to our life lists:

• Marbled Godwit (Limosa fedoa)
  
• American Wigeon (Anas americana)
  
• Gadwall (Anas strepera)
  
• American Avocet (Aythya americana)
  
• Costa's Hummingbird (Calypte costae)
  
• Savannah Sparrow (Belding's race) (Passerculus sandwichensis)
  
• Lark Sparrow (Chondestes grammacus)
  

The western trailhead at San Elijo Lagoon Ecological Reserve. There's a hot air balloon in the background.

After we left San Elijo, we drove out to Poway (a northeastern suburb) for some mediocre live music and pub grub at a faux British bar called Phileas Fogg's.

Here endeth my account of my 2009 spring break in San Diego.