The Great Backyard Bird Count

A blue-gray gnatcatcher

The 2011 Great Backyard Bird Count is taking place this weekend, and everyone in North America is invited to participate, even if it's only for 15 minutes. All you need is pen and paper, and you've got today and tomorrow's holiday to participate.

For me, of course, it's just another excuse to be outside on this glorious day. But instead of gardening tools I've got binoculars, camera and bird books .

I logged 12 species in the hour from 11:30 to 12:30, although I suspect if I'd started in the early morning, I would have seen more. Maybe I'll get up early tomorrow. Maybe ...

Fall migration

Credit: Mark Jones, Painted Bunting Observation Team

Realizing that the migration must be well under way, and also being located under a major flyway, I Googled for information about what I could expect to see at my feeders.

I came across the website of the North Carolina based Painted Buntings Observer Team. It's latest blog entry, dated Aug. 31, said that the buntings had already been spotted in north Florida, which is quite a bit earlier than usual. (The redstarts appeared in my garden in August, which is also way earlier than usual; I wonder what they know that we don't?) Anyway, it means that painted buntings should be arriving in South Florida any day, if they're not already here. Time to make sure there's plenty of white millet in the feeders.

(For those who are not familiar with it, the painted bunting, Passerina ciris, is one of the continent's most colorful birds.)

I'd also read somewhere that migrating birds show up on radar, so I asked a friend, a meteorologist at the Miami National Weather Service office, if the NWS ever tracked migrations. His answer was no, however he did say:

"... the Doppler Radar imagery right around sunrise can give you an idea if there's an increase in bird population. There is usually a small ring or circle that expands outward in the area of the Everglades which occurs for about 10-20 minutes in the early morning. If you play a movie or loop of the base reflectivity radar imagery, you'll probably see it."

I got up too late this morning to catch it, but if you are an early bird, pardon the pun, please let me know if you see anything. Don't forget to hit the "refresh" button on the lower right.

A white-crowned pigeon visits

Actually, they're quite common in my neck of the woods, but they are considered "near threatened" throughout its range, which consists of the Caribbean islands and parts of coastal Central America. For once, habitat loss isn't the problem; it's hunting. At least they're protected now in the U.S. where  they're only found in Florida south of Lake Okeechobee and through the Keys.

This one's a juvenile; an adult is easily recognized by its bright white pate. If you click on the top image, the enlarged photo will show you where its white crown is starting to appear.

It hadn't quite got flying down, and was having a hard time landing on the bird bath. A smaller blue jay arrived, but the pigeon successfully shooed him off.

Bird dialects

While I was in Atlanta, I read a New York Times story about birding apps for iPhones and the like. (Until I get another job, I can't afford an iPhone but I'm lusting after one.) The article says that developing an app that identifies birdsong is problematic because birds have regional "dialects."

That was a coincidence because I'd been listening to the breeding song of the cardinals in Atlanta and it was noticeably different from those in Miami, 700 miles to the south. The song in Miami has a higher pitch and is faster.

Has anyone else noticed the same thing with cardinals or other birds?

Return of the swallow- tailed kites

I saw the first swallow-tailed kite of the year, today. (Click on the link if you're not familiar with them.) I reckon they are the most beautiful birds of prey on the planet. Once seen, not forgotten.

They're such graceful, acrobatic fliers, too, rarely flapping their wings as they wheel around in tight circles, controlling their flight by simply twisting their tails.

Prior to Hurricanes Katrina and Wilma, which, in 2005, took out so many of our trees and birds' nesting places, I would see as many as two dozen circling overhead. I'm not sure where they nest now, but I haven't seen those numbers since.

Until a few years ago, nobody was sure where they spent the winter. Eventually, they were tracked to the Brazilian/Paraguayan border, a journey of some 4,000 miles.

(The photo is from the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service and is in the public domain.)

Karma and gardening

Once a week I go to a Tibetan Buddhist dharma center to work in the garden. Considering its location, just a few miles north of downtown Miami, it's a surprisingly big garden. At the moment, I'm the only person volunteering there, so until others get the gardening bug, things only just stay tamed.

I was there last Thursday. It was one of those days that make us remember why we live in South Florida: warm and sunny with the slightest chill on the breeze. I found a shady chair at the end of the garden, which has become totally wild, and gave myself up to the day. Butterflies, damsel flies, bees, citrus blossom, wild flowers. Even the city noise dimmed. And all the while, a mockingbird sang his heart out above me.

Buddhists say that experiencing moments like this is the karmic consequence of previous positive actions. Upon recognizing that, one immediately pays forward such "merit," asking that all sentient beings may, in turn, experience such peace.

The accidental tourist: A rufous hummingbird

Well, this was an exciting visitor. He was about 15' up in one of my oaks and is actually the first hummer I've seen in the garden all season. After watching him (he was a juvenile male), through my binoculars, flick out his long, thin tongue at (presumably) passing insects, and swaying and bobbing on the branch, it occurred to me that he was not like the regular ruby-throated visitors.

When my neck was aching too much to continue watching, I did some research, went back to confirm, and of course, he'd gone.

Since rufous hummers are native to the left coast, I submitted a report to eBird.org.

Sorry, no pictures for this post, but do check the links for images and info.

Bob, the baby Eastern screech owl

If you're on Facebook, I urge you to find, and become a fan of, "Bob." He, and possibly some siblings, lives in a cavity nest in a mango tree in friends' backyard. Since the homeowners are Miami Herald photographers, the photos are spectacular. And Bob was born to be a star!

Cardinal

A lovesick cardinal is singing its heart out in the yard. If you're not familiar with the song, I recorded this the other day at Fairchild, where they could be heard all around the garden.

I took these photos last June of a pair that visited one of my feeders. Curiously, they alternated visits, never coming to the feeder together. Perhaps that was to ensure that one parent survived an unforseen attack.

The view from my desk

Working at my computer earlier today, I looked up to see white ibis balancing on the utility lines. They really don't look stable up there, but they made me smile.

The Australian pines behind offer a perching place to an osprey. I hear it calling to its mate frequently, but there's no nest.

Despite looking onto the street, I get a nice view from here.

Death and life in the garden

I was at my potting bench this afternoon when a commotion at the top of a coconut palm caused me to turn just in time to see birds scattering and a broad-winged hawk flying off with a victim in its talons. Small, downy feathers drifted to the ground.

This morning, there was a dead Muscovy duck in the water that looked like part of it's underside had been ripped off. I'm wondering if there's a gator or a croc back in the lake. I haven't seen any ducklings for a while, which adds to my suspicions.

The effects of the long cold spell continue. The cold chilled the waters deep enough to cause a massive fish die-off, and for a while the stench of decay wafted up from the canal where dead fish -- and iguanas -- floated past.

It also stayed too cold for the iguanas to revive. I haven't seen the monster at the top of his tree since the freeze. Vultures are flying low, spoiled for choice of dinner. Much as I regret the loss of life, gardens around South Florida will benefit from the reduction in their numbers.

Coconut fronds have turned brown and continue to drop in large numbers, but I don't think that the palms themselves will die. Before a palms drops a frond, it pulls out the nutrients, leaving a dry, brown skeleton to fall. In a healthy palm, the lower fronds die first, as is the case here.  Even so, they're still heavy and they can damage the plants below. Last week, a frond split the trunk of a prized croton.

But enough of the gloomy news;  the Clerondendron quadriloculare, the starburst or shooting star clerodendron (below), is in flower, and orchids and bromeliads are about to bloom, too. Plus, I heard a mockingbird singing its heart out the other day. Twitterpating 2010 has begun!

The fastest creature on Earth

Taking the dogs for a walk this afternoon, a mourning dove, pursued by a bigger bird, flashed past just above my head in an avian dogfight. They were so fast that I barely registered their presence before both had disappeared into some trees. Given the speed, I assumed the pursuer was a peregrine falcon. That was confirmed seconds later when the falcon pulled up rapidly a few houses away, clearly showing its grey back and the distinctive wing shape of a true falcon. Whether the dove escaped, I couldn't tell, but it was an exciting moment of birding for me. (The only other falcon in S. Florida is the tiny American kestrel.)

Peregrines have been clocked at speeds of  200 mph when they dive on unsuspecting prey, thus making them the fastest creature on the planet. In pursuit of prey, as in this case, they can fly at nearly 70 mph. Doves fly fast, too, which is why both whizzed past at such speed.

(I found this photo on Wikipedia. It comes from a US government agency, the Pennsylvania Game Commission, and is thus copyright free.)

American kestrel

If you spy a bird perched on the tallest branch, pole, spire, or similar, in Florida's winter, the chances are good that it's an American kestrel. The Cornell Lab of Ornithology reckons that this little bird is about the most colorful raptor on the planet. Its call, a quick high-pitched "kee kee kee," is unmistakable once you hear it. I took this photo yesterday close to my house.

Vultures (with feathers)

A couple of turkey vultures were arguing over a possum carcass in the road a few houses along. There was a lot of commotion and clashing of wings before they sorted it out, and then a car drove one off, leaving the feast to the other. I walked over to what was left of the possum (be glad you didn't smell it), which caused me to wonder whether vultures, like raptors, have exceptional eyesight, or whether they have exceptional smell -- or both. Questions, questions.

If you live in suburban South Florida (and assuming you even notice them), you probably like seeing vultures wheeling around the sky. Vultures, turkey vultures specifically, are harbingers of the fall; they arrive from somewhere in the Midwest or Northeast in the first week of October, bringing with them the blessed promise of cooler weather. Except in the immediate aftermath of a hurricane, I don't think it's ever cooled down before the "buzzards" show up.

The occasion used to be celebrated annually on the steps of the courthouse in downtown Miami, which is where dozens choose to roost at night. As tall buildings went up around the courthouse, the vultures roosted there, too. The Herald wrote a story about very expensive lawyers in very expensive penthouse offices not appreciating vultures resting outside and spoiling their otherwise very expensive view. Oh, the irony!

If you do look up, watch these masters of flight as they ride thermals and glide across the sky with the rarest flap of a wing. On the ground, though, it's another matter. These huge birds, ungainly as they are ugly, are positively comical as they lumber along the ground preparing for takeoff. Sadly, this is when the vultures themselves become road kill.

A tiny owl

Fairchild had its first Bird Day on Sunday, which I deemed to be a success apart from the bird walk that started at the ludicrously early 7 a.m. (I can't do anything at that hour other than sleep.) The wildlife rehab center at Miami's science museum was in attendance with a couple of of permanent residents, a red shouldered hawk and an Eastern screech owl.

I'm sure that like me, many of the day's visitors walked right past the tiny owl assuming it was a stuffed bird. You can see what I mean from the first photo. And what a treat to see the hawk up close and personal.

Little Brown Jobs (and keep your mind out of the toilet, please)

The LBJs, small brown birds -- mostly warblers, are back. The fall migration has been under way for a while, but I've only just started paying attention. The LBJs flit from branch to branch too quickly to figure out the species, but I have seen American redstarts and a male prairie warbler. I may have seen a black-and-white warbler, too, but ...

It's a colorful time of year, birdwise, in the garden. Blue jays and cardinals come to the feeders and the bright yellow spot-breasted orioles are all over the place.

Urban wildlife

The nearby Tropical Park has opened a doggy park, which my two love. It's located next to one of the lakes where I snapped this shot of a great egret.

And for the first time in several years I came across a little ring-neck snake in the garden. It was crossing a pathway and disappeared under the shed. I was in the middle of dealing with a dog who had sliced open a paw, resulting in copious bleeding, so I didn't have time to admire it. But it's nice to know it's there.

Why woodpeckers don't need helmets but footballers do

If a human hammered away with his head the way this male red-bellied woodpecker does, his brain would soon turn to mush.

According to Random Animal Facts, woodpeckers have a:

[R]elatively thick skull with relatively spongy bone to cushion the brain; there is very little cerebrospinal fluid in its small subarachnoid space; the bird contracts mandibular muscles just before impact, thus transmitting the impact past the brain and allowing its whole body to help absorb the shock; and its relatively small brain is less prone to concussion than other animals.

Incidentally, there are occasional glimpses of the red feathers on the belly, which is why it gets its name. That's not quite as much as a "duh" as you might think because it's rare to see the belly feathers.

Crows

Recently, my son and I went to Crandon Park on Key Biscayne for a short outing. He went swimming and I watched the birds. (That's a white ibis.)

I got totally absorbed in a crow v. human drama taking place at a picnic table behind me. A family had brought what looked like shrimps to barbecue for lunch but they wanted to go swimming first. It didn't take long for a couple of crows to start poking (beaking) around and getting into the food. It took the dad several trips out of the water and up the beach before he finally secured the food. I think the crows eventually would have figured out how to access even the coolers, but Nick and I left before it all played out.

Twitterpating (All's fair in love and war)

I was never overly fond of Bambi, but I love that word.

Twitterpating is in full swing, which any gardener will know. I have four bird feeders of varying sizes around the garden and right now it doesn't take long for them to empty. My favorite is attached to the kitchen window and you can hear a bird landing on it from another room. If you stand still in the kitchen, you get a lovely close up of blue jays, cardinals, redwing blackbirds (mostly the females, which are very dull), and doves.

A few years ago, Dan and I watched a pair of male redwings, in full breeding plumage, get into a fight to the death. Eventually, they locked wings above the canal and plunged straight down. The poet spoke the truth about Nature Red in Tooth and Claw because one bird held the other under water until it drowned. He flew off, triumphant, while the body of the other surfaced and floated away.