Creepy

He's out there again. It was around four-thirty when I took the dog out this morning. I happened to glance up and there he was, strutting around like he owned the sky and glaring down his nose at me. He is worse than a Kilroy peering over a fence!

Oh, he's pretty enough and during his season the sky is often so clear as to spotlight his stardom out there in the sky. However, he has nothing to say that I want to hear. It is already cold enough to remind both me and the boss of Labor Days when we were kids and first frost came at fair time and corn chopping was going strong already. 

I have the best crop of tomatoes I have managed in years out there in the garden and I really, really, really want to get to eat them.

I hope that old devil, Orion, can keep his sights on the sky and save his wintery mischief for later.

Meanwhile, what a weekend... Got to visit the best of all aunties, not once, but twice. Got to go the fair with all of both our kids, all the grandkids, assorted ponies, and other livestock and a good time was had by all. Got to watch the ponies in their halter class and meet the kids' goats and Liz's goat, which is spoiled beyond all imagining, and walked 15000 steps, which is half again my normal count. I think there was a sheep involved as well.

A Baldy Jay

Had the unrivaled experience of following Alan through the poultry barn. He can imitate turkey calls with no aids, no scratch box, or mouth call, nothing but his voice...and he can fool anyone...including the turkeys. A few little hen clucks as he walked along and all the toms were strutting and calling and shuffling. It was pretty funny. I do believe he used to do the same thing in the crowded stairwell at college when he was studying fisheries and wildlife. I don't think anyone every figured out where the turkey was....

Anyhow, welcome to Fall...

Diamond, photo by Becky

Birding Mongolia

 

Well not really, but rather the top of a mountain my brother was kind enough to take me to visit. While atop that mighty peak my Merlin app decided that I should identify birds in MOHRON which is evidently the language of Mongolia.

This was somewhat interesting, but because I spend so much of my time birding and know the app well, I could actually make it work, a good thing, as I didn't get it fixed until after I was home.

See, I had mentioned to my brother that I really wanted to go up Whiteface Mountain high in the top of the Adirondacks. This was partly because I hoped to experience a Bicknell's Thrush, but mostly because I had never been and I have a gleeful heart for the 'Dacks.

The ride up was worth the trip. Routes 8 and 9N abound with breath-catching vistas that come so fast you can barely keep up.

The mountain defies description. It is high, wild, and mighty. I even delighted in the elevator to the tippy top. I had hoped to climb the trail to the summit from the parking area, but about twelve steps up I decided discretion was the better part of valor...or in other words, I am too old for that stuff. 

The "easy" part of the trail to the summit, a resounding NOPE for me

Mike boldly went where sisters fear to go, while I was grateful to take the somewhat tamer route. But then again, just how tame is a tunnel that goes deep into a mountain with a 50.149 smoot high elevator at the end? (Since I visually estimate small distances in units of Ralph, I was tickled to discover smoots. 

The tunnel

I was thrilled by the top of the mountain, the sides of the mountain, the inside, outside and all sides of the mountain, but Mike had even more excitement in store for me.

The gondola ride at Little Whiteface was just down the road. As a kid I was terrified of fast, high, spinny, bouncy, scary carnival rides. I would go on the merry-go-round and that was about it. However, there must be some compensation for becoming ancient. I enjoyed that gondola ride insanely. I am sorry to say my video of same failed for some reason, but the sensation of soaring up sheer cliff faces on the way up, then gliding down into the valleys and ravines on the way down made me feel like an eagle slip-sliding through the sky. I hope I dream about it.

Boreal Chickadee

Then at the top, as I merrily explained to a lady who was asking about the birds we were hearing...Black-capped Chickadees and what I thought were Tufted Titmice...I pulled out my Mongolian Merlin to check out something else I was hearing, (probably a Golden-crowned Kinglet). However in my wild excitement I forgot to further pursue it. The "titmice" were Boreal Chickadees. We have spent the past several years chasing after them and there they were, a gift from the sky and my next younger brother. Life bird number 276.

So thanks Michael, thank-you mountain, and thank-you Maker of the Mountains.

It was a great day that I won't forget any time soon. I love Mongolia. Who knew?

Taking Pishing to a New Level

Blue-winged Warbler

 I have recently graduated to the level of pishing...making funny noises so birds come out to see what new mischief is afoot...where birds sometimes actually emerge to investigate, although not always. (Not even the majority of the time.)

However the weird sounds I can make have been known to get Barred Owls hooting way off the in the woods, and even to sometimes come floating up to the roadside to check me out. And I can almost always "get" a Song Sparrow or two. Plus Common Yellowthroats, the nosiest warblers in the bushes.

Ruby-throated Hummingbird in our garden

Today, I topped my ultimate best ever pishing effort and I am here to tell you I will never forget about it.

Ralph suggested that since the warblers are beginning to disperse and even to migrate  we go out to Lost Valley State Forest. He would wait in the car and I would walk the wild walk.

It was fun. I was able to tease out a couple of Blue-winged Warblers and almost got a woodpecker six-pack (no Pileated this time). 

The pond at Burbine Forest

About ninety minutes in I topped the big hill almost at the end and after catching my breath noticed a little rustle in the brush about four or five Ralph-lengths away from me. (I have long used the mental image of the length of multiples of Ralph stretched end-to-end to measure short distances in my head. Thus it was about four or maybe five times just under six feet....don't laugh...it works.)

Since I had been having White-tailed Deer stomping and barking at me since I got out of the car I tested my deer barking skills. Cough. Cough. Bark. I bark back at deer all the time. The thing began to move off...I thought it might be a bird as a few small branches were moving.

Thus I tried out my finest level of pishing. A bird did fly out and crossed the road maybe five or six Ralph lengths down the hill.

Another catbird. Dagnabbit. There must be a million of them.

 Right behind it was a Black Bear.

Yep, I was just a few husband lengths away from a bear I couldn't see.

Thankfully my incredible squeaking and hissing and barking-like-a-deer skills must have terrified it. It loped off down the hill as fast as if it were hot on the trail of a pic-a-nic basket.

I did not lope back to the car, but let me tell you, it did NOT take me an hour and a half to retrace my steps.

Oddly enough I grew up playing in the woods and have hiked many mountain trails and birded hard over our home county, plus the two adjacent ones and have only ever seen one other bear in the woods.

To my thinking that is enough.

Chestnut-sided Warbler

Camp Week

 

Common Yellowthroat at Benham Marsh

Was a mixed bag. Birding was phenomenal with 84 eventual species, a couple of great outings, one  with my BBB, Kris Harshman, and one with my favorite middle offspring, Becky.

Immature Green Heron at Cline Road Marsh

There were also the stairs from HELL.

Driveway of the same origin. It gave anything without topnotch four-wheel-drive that awful sinking feeling.

Neighbors about whom I will make no further comment.

Nearly perfect weather.

Sunrises to inspire poets to great flights of fancy.

Common Loons. One night they purred and chortled and chuckled and hooted all night long. It was a great delight to half-awaken to hear their secret conversations, then to drift off to dream of wild places remote from the real.

Car trouble, which put an end to the fun birding excursions.

Awful photo of a Canada Warbler

Canada Warblers.

Red crossbills.

Bonaparte's Gulls.

Broad-winged Hawk

We decided not to renew our reservation for next year unless they can get us into a north shore cabin with no HELL stairs. Becky and I both fell off them more than once. I am getting too old for that kind of sport. It made me sad though. We have been enjoying the lake since I was five or six...or possibly even younger, so it is a significant part of our family culture. I hope we can get into a safer, quieter cabin. Otherwise we will have to find something else to do.

Been debating whether this is a pure American
Black Duck or if there is some Mallard there. Lots of mutts on the
lake

Anyhow, back home now with the laundry all caught up and the garden beginning to give up its goodies for our suppers...fresh green beans last night with homegrown garlic and herbs and store-bought carrots and celery.

Sure good.

Many thanks to Becky for making camp possible and being the best of companions, to Ralph for taking care of our doggo and keeping the porch plants thriving...those hanging baskets can be a PIA...and to Kris for the crossbills and a really fun afternoon in the mountains. Also for super helpful camera tips, which upped my game immensely.

Grebes are Weird

A cheeky wee Pied-billed Grebe, thinking that
he is keeping his secrets from you

 I accidentally stumbled upon the fact that Western Grebe chicks have a yellow or grayish bare spot on their heads that turns bright red when they hungry and beg for food. It goes back to its normal color when crops are full.

The chicks are brooded on their parents' backs and fed there as well, rather than in the nest, which is mostly abandoned when they hatch. When one parent gets tired of "back brooding" it rises up in the water to dump the kids in the drink. They are able to swim to the other parent, which sometimes is generous enough to stick out a foot for them to use as a step to get aboard.

The parents feed feathers to the chicks right from the start.

Yum

The kids poop when they hit the water. Thus Mom and Dad flap their wings and dump them in the drink quite frequently. Can't say as I blame them. Beats changing diapers.

Red-necked Grebes on the mighty Mohawk

Late in the parenting sequence the adults often split the family and each take a portion off to feed. They get back together later. Maybe. 

I have never seen a Western Grebe and probably never will, but their sheer weirdness is a delight to me.

Which brings me to Pied-billed Grebes, which are not uncommon around here, and which I do see reasonably regularly and hear even more often. If you experience background sounds out in the marsh that make you think you are suddenly inside a Tarzan movie, there's a good chance it's Pied-billed Grebe. 

They are odd too. It is not abnormal for them to lay eggs into a cup in their nest platform that is barely at water level. Sometimes they are even laid in a puddle of water. Eggs don't care; they have a special coating. The parents gradually build the nest up and by the time they hatch the cup is no longer quite as wet.

Parents cover the incubating eggs with plant matter when they leave the nest and often stay away for prolonged periods, relying on the heat of decaying vegetation to keep the eggs warm (alligators anyone?)

My vocabulary word when reading about grebes is nidifugous. It means the little guys leave the nest soon after hatching. Once again they are back brooded. (If anyone knows how to pronounce it give me a call. I Googled it and found at least five entries on the first page...every single one of them was different. So I still don't know...)

Well-grown grebe chick

Anyhow, I love grebes. 

I have seen three species, Pied-billed, Red-Necked, and Horned. However, I have never been in a position to personally observe their babysitting (or maybe I should say baby dumping) behavior, so this information was obtained from Cornell's excellent resource, Birds of the World, which I highly recommend. It is like a college course that you study at your own speed, directed by your own interests. Personally, if I see an intriguing behavior or just wonder where a species migrates, or nests, or what they eat, or odd ways they care for chicks, I check it out. I even have a shortcut on my phone so I can learn in the field. 

You never know. I might learn useful new words like nidifugous, which might help me sound intelligent in birdy company, if only I could pronounce it.

Bye