TREE SWALLOWS

   

Tree swallows

Photo courtesy of Sharon Milligan

(If you would like to learn more about Judy, read previous articles and see more of Sharon's photos, click on the blue title.)

Tree swallows are ubiquitous winter birds along the Gulf Coast. Here they dance a frenzied tarantella above the marshes and the beaches in a daylight-to-dusk effort at staying alive until Spring.

When most other insect-eating species are following the sun to more hospitable places, Tree swallows elect to joust with fractious north winds, biting cold, and demoralizing rains, from the coasts of lower New England to the coasts of California. Disaster in proportion to winter weather often results. Those swallows that survive will be gone with the first beckoning glance of Spring.

Before the martins arrive, Tree swallows are the only swallows likely to be seen along the coast in winter. Know them by their white undersides sharply contrasted against iridescent plumage above, which, depending upon light, may appear as metallic green or electric blue.

They are five-inch minimasters of the air as they hawk for insects. As a rule of thumb, Tree swallows fly higher in moderate to good weather when insects are plentiful. In periods of inclement or cold weather, they lower their sights and most often are found just above the salt marshes and above the surface of the water. At such times they often fly below eye level, so intent on the chase that their collision course with the bystander is altered with only inches to spare.

When insect life is diminished, we may see another example of the spectacular aerodynamics of the Tree swallow, at times involving as many as 2,000 or more birds.  This spectacle prompted a number of calls to me last week (this was in 1979) , and was probably the result of the inclement weather with which we are getting so familiar.

It concerns the behavior of Tree swallows at their secondary food source here on the coast – the berries of the Wax myrtle; I have witnessed this flying phenomenon several times, but can find no descriptions of it in the literature.

There are brief references to Bayberry and Wax myrtle as a winter food source for Tree swallows, but incredibly, no mention is made of the nearly poetic manner in which it is obtained. I’d like to take you back to the morning of January 27^th (1979), to a road along Bellefontaine Beach, to describe a sight which my companion that day, Mary Welles of Elmira, N.Y., had never seen in her lifetime of watching birds.

It was very cold and, for the moment, the rain had stopped. Above the large oak under which we stood, a rush of wings filled the air with sounds that could have come from the soundtrack of a science fiction movie. Looking up, we saw that the sky above was thick with Tree swallows massing just overhead. They moved in a concert of whooshing wings, gathering in numbers, (we estimated nearly a thousand) fanning the air above us, and then seconds later they flew as if on signal to form a cloud above a Wax myrtle bush.

Again, they took another cue from some unknown source and funneled down to alight by the hundreds amidst the leaves and branches of the Wax myrtle. Through binoculars, we could see them eating the hard gray berries that grow in clusters. Seconds later they lifted off again so synchronized in movements they were almost as one bird, they swirled into the sky above and returned to the bush in the same funnel-like formation.

We watched this activity for 20 minutes, during which the cloud of swallows in unison, repeated the close order drill in and out of the myrtle until suddenly they dispersed, leaving us filled with awe. Such a sight can be likened only to the movements of small sandpipers, but made more dramatic by its unexpectedness.

This article appeared in the Sun Herald in 1979. Since then, what Judy describes so well has been given a name - “a Tree swallow tornado” –  Many videos have been posted of this phenomenon on YouTube.

GETTING TO KNOW THE GULLS

Ring-Billed Gull

Photo courtesy of Sharon Milligan

The family Laridae, to which gulls and terns are assigned can be difficult for the beginning birder to separate and identify. There is a sameness in coloration which seems to imply that one gull or tern cannot be told from another.

If you have been procrastinating that trip to the beach because these birds confound your identification techniques, I hope that this column will at least simplify the gull population along the coast for you.

There are certain features that have made the gulls somewhat easier for me… though it may be a departure from accepted birding techniques… which I’d like to pass along.

While it is true that gulls, terns and other birds whose habitat is comprised mostly of sea and sand, are of similar plumages; (mostly white, with shades of gray, brown, and black) and have some identical behavioral patterns, each species, like every individual on earth, has a distinctive difference that sets it apart from all the others and.. VIVE LE DIFFERENCE!

Gulls are larger than terns, generally speaking, and are more robust, with stouter bills and stouter feet. They may often sit on the water like ducks, and unlike the terns, they will eat refuse and dead sea animals.

Let us assume that the differences between gulls and terns were resolved for you some time ago and go directly to the four species of gulls which will be dependably present and how to sort them out in almost any convocation along the beach, AT THIS TIME OF THE YEAR..

These are the Herring Gull, Ring-billed Gull, Bonaparte’s Gull and our resident Laughing Gull. By summer, all but the Laughing Gulls, (and here and there a misplaced young Herring Gull) will have departed to points north and west.

Of these four species, the Herring Gull can be told from a distance by its very large proportions of 23-26 inches, dwarfing the others. When among other gulls, the size alone can be your best field mark. The adult wears a gray mantle with black wing tips and flesh colored legs. Immatures are dusky brown and quite dark and second year birds are somewhat lighter. Learning to identify this largest of our gulls can give you a point of reference. When mention is made of the “seagull”, this is the bird that appears in our mind’s eye, an abundant and familiar gull of the eastern seaboard and the interior.

Quite similar to the Herring Gull, but noticeably smaller, is the Ring-Billed Gull (18-20 inches). Know this gull by the black ring at the tip of an otherwise yellow bill… at any age and in any plumage. In flight you can separate the Ring-billed from the Herring by its yellow or greenish legs, smaller size and more buoyant flight.

At this time of year, Laughing Gulls are developing some dusky face marks… dark streaks will have appeared on the white heads which they have worn throughout the winter. Separate them from those above by the smaller size (15-17 ½ inches), very dark mantle with darker wing tips, and a conspicuous white border that lines the hind edge of the wings.

Summer Laughing Gulls should be very familiar to even the least observant among us. Their handsome black heads, white ring nearly encircling the eye, bright red bill, and very dark mantle, with white underbody combine to make it a striking bird.

Last, but not least, look for the delicate Bonaparte’s Gull by its smallest size (12-14 inches). At this time of year, “Bony” is wearing a black spot behind the eye on an otherwise white head and that will be your best field mark. In flight, the Bony shows a distinctive wing pattern.. there is a long triangle of white on the outer part of the gray wing, the trailing edges of which are bordered in black.

If you can associate each gull with a few key words, all of a sudden you will know them.

Herring Gull  .. LARGEST

Ring Billed Gull .. BLACK RING ON YELLOW BILL

Laughing Gull.. VERY DARK MANTLE     and

Bonaparte’s Gull.. BLACK SPOT BEHIND EYE.

While all these gulls share common characteristics, these key words highlight the differences.

Your field guide will still be your best reference and this column is not meant as a substitute. In the interests of candor, it is possible, though not probable, that  **two other gulls, Franklin’s Gull or Glaucous Gull, may make an unscheduled appearance on the coast, but if you have succeeded in sorting out these four common gulls, you will be well on your way to easy identification of the others. 

**Editor's note – since this article was written, in addition to the two Judy mentions above, the status of some other gulls has changed (Lesser Black-backed Gull, for example, can be added to the rare list ). But, for the purpose of learning the most common of our winter gulls, this article is still valid, and helpful to the beginning birder.

This article was published in February 1977

A CRASH COURSE ON IDENTIFYING GREBES

                                        

Horned Grebe

Photo courtesy of Sharon Milligan

(If you would like to learn more about Judy, and see more of Sharon's photos, click on the blue title where you can read previously posted articles)

The first time I saw a grebe I sifted through 11 pages of duck illustrations before the dawn came. A grebe is not a duck! I consider it my duty to pass that on.

My mistake is common among beginning birders. Beginning birders make presumptions; in this case, that any bird that swims and dives must – ergo – be a duck. A little thoughtful attention to a field guide and we soon learn that many birds swim and dive and are not ducks: Loons, grebes, cormorants, auks, murres, puffins.

Many a novice birder has foresworn the sauce while being conned by a grebe. Grebes are charming little tricksters and to be forewarned is to be forearmed (thus making foreswearing unnecessary).

Keep an open mind when the bird you thought you saw disappear before your very eyes – without a splash, without a ripple; doesn’t dive, doesn’t fly, just leaves – and leaves you awestruck! Your eyes do not play tricks on you. It is just the magic of a water witch disguised in the thick, glossy plumage of a grebe.

Just what is this water witch/grebe? It is a strong swimmer and diver, a complete and utter failure on land, a reluctant flier (except when it absolutely must do that migration thing) and, in my own defense, just a little bit like a duck.

All 20 species of grebes share certain characteristics; peculiarly lobed toes with flattened claws (which make for strong surface and underwater swimming), compact bodies with dense plumage, fairly long necks, short wings, and hardly any tail at all.

Grebes are fey, and therefore fascinating. They are fully deserving of the appellation “water witch”. They have the ability to compress air from their thickly layered feathers and thereby reduce buoyancy; enough to sink below the surface as smoothly as any high-technology submarine. Once swimming underwater, grebes can travel great distances before surfacing, generally away from prying eyes. Small wonder that grebes are called water witches. Even knowing how they do it does not destroy the magic of their act.

Of the 20 species of grebes worldwide, six of them breed in North America. Only five have occurred in Mississippi and just three of them are regular here on the coast.

So that the reader may spend less time wondering and more time in wonder, there follows a crash course on the grebes which occur (commonly/regularly) here.

PIED BILLED GREBE: It’s one of the smallest, and may be found year round, usually in still-water ponds and occasionally in bays and inlets. It is quite common in winter, when any pond may yield a couple of dozen “submerging for divers reasons and returning to the surface on sun-dry errands”. This grebe is drab and brown and has a chicken-like bill, which, during the breeding season, is adorned with a black ring. It is rare here as a breeder, but visit any still pond in winter and the rewards should include this “witchiest” of the water witches.

      

Pied Billed Grebe - sketch by Judy's son, Desmond

HORNED GREBE: Appears slightly bigger than the above due to extensive white in the plumage. We see the Horned Grebe, which is fairly common, in winter in the sound and also in sheltered bays and inlets. It rarely occurs in ponds. This grebe in winter has a clean look in black and white. The contrast of white neck and face with the black cap which is slightly “crowned” toward the rear helps to identify it. Note that the bill is thin and pointed, quite unlike that of the Pied-billed Grebe. Before this grebe departs (most will have left by the end of March) it begins its dazzling change into breeding plumage of black, chestnut and gold, and lucky are we to see him in his natty nuptials.

EARED GREBE: This fellow matches the preceding two grebes in size, but could be confused only with the Horned Grebe. Like the Horned Grebe, it appears here in winter wearing drab winter plumage, witching it up in ponds (and less likely in a bay or inlet). Eared Grebe is uncommon, but regular. A careful observer generally can find at least one Eared Grebe somewhere on the Coast each winter. There are more in evidence this winter (reader: note 1984) than in any previous winter, so there’s still a good chance to see one. Separate the Eared from the Horned by remembering that the Eared Grebe has a “dirty neck” as opposed to the “clean neck” of the Horned Grebe, and sports a dingy white “ear patch”. Notice too that the head is peaked at about the center. Shape of heads and bills is important in distinguishing one grebe from another at a distance. Before the last Eared Grebe has left for its home in the west, we could be lucky and see one wearing its golden ears and other breeding finery.

The foregoing supposes that the reader has a field guide and will use it to augment the thumbnail sketches given here. Those who really want to get to know our grebes should have no trouble finding the first two. If there is a wait for the third, it’s well worth it.

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(This article was published in the Sun Herald in February 1984)

THANK GOODNESS THERE'S MORE TO THE SPORT THAN SEEKING LIFE BIRDS

Greater Yellowlegs

Photo courtesy of Sharon Milligan

(Seaman Rd Lagoon on MCAS field trip 01/30/2016)

(If you would like to learn more about Judy, and see more of Sharon's photos, click on the blue title above where you can read previously posted articles)

A "life bird'' is one that a birder sees for the very first time. Those new to birding, if they bird with any regularity, rack up lifers very quickly. The first 200 or so species come easily, and then the law of diminishing returns sets in. A birder finds himself in familiar territory with increasingly familiar birds, and lifers grow scarcer and scarcer.

    If birding were all about life birds, it would become terribly dull. I remember a time with a large group of beginning birders for whom I was conducting what amounts to a show-and-tell session of shorebirds. I would focus my spotting scope on a particular individual, and the observers would line up to see it. I had a nice little Lesser Yellowlegs dead center in the scope, and the novices were taking turns looking at it. I was dismayed when one of the group stood aside and said, "I've already seen it.'' She did not raise her binoculars to study the "legs'' on her own, nor did she refer to a field guide to underscore what she had been told she had seen.

    In all the years I've been teaching, I've become quite good at separating novices into two categories: those who are in it just for "collecting'' purposes, and those who early on realize that seeing a bird for the first time is only the beginning. The latter want to see a species again and again until they know it well. And even then, they don't grow tired of it.

    They get their own kicks from recognizing a Lesser Yellowlegs without help. They develop skills that help to separate a "lesserlegs'' from the similar Greater Yellowlegs, on their own.

    Along with skills in identification of the birds that cooperate by staying in the open to allow for good views, this latter category of novices find themselves able to call the same bird in flight or to recognize it by its flight notes.

    Soon these novices realize that there are more of both "legs'' on the Coast during spring and fall migrations, and that finding them in winter is a crap shoot. The birders become aware that a winter yellowlegs looks different from a legs in adult summer plumage.

    They show interest in the behavior and the biology of the Lesser Yellowlegs or, for that matter, any given species. They discover the romance of birds far beyond what a bird looks like.

    As time goes on, they become aware that Lesser Yellowlegs are more sociable than Greater Yellowlegs and that the lesser, when feeding, is more of a picker than the greater, which often swishes its bill in a back-and-forth motion. They see (often without realizing how very much they are seeing) that the lesserlegs could be said to be "delicate'', a word that does not rightly apply to the greaterlegs. They learn that the lesser is much more "approachable'' (but still a wary bird) than the greater.

    After experiencing both yellowlegs throughout the course of a year or more, they take note that the Lesser Yellowlegs is more likely to shy away from open beaches than is the greater but that both are found, often side by side, in shallow ponds and impoundments and along marshy edges. And it may come as a surprise to learn that both yellowlegs eat insects along with crustaceans, small fishes and worms.

    Along the way they become aware that both yellowlegs are "head bobbers". Curiosity about other head bobbers may lead them to discover the obvious, which is that most head-bobbers are in the same genus (Tringa), and that head-bobbing is a characteristic behavior. That knowledge may help when, someday in a faraway place, they may come across a Redshank or a Greenshank or a Wood Sandpiper, all of which are closely related to the birds we birders call "legs".

    They might, having conquered the identification challenge by a combination of sight, sound, season, habitat and behavior, become taken with other aspects of the Lesser Yellowlegs (and by inference, any other bird), such as its history and its courtship rituals, mating, nesting, raising young and so forth.

    Should the birder ever come across a shorebird decoy in an antiques store, it may come as a shock, but the elegant little yellowlegs once was a popular gamebird: "at time exceedingly tame; it decoys very easily, returns again and again to the slaughter, and its little body is so small that many lives must be sacrificed to make a decent bag.''

    Imagination might be captured by knowing that the lesserlegs breeds in loose colonies in muskegs north of the lower 48, in Alaska and the central prairie provinces of Canada, even to areas north of the Arctic Circle. And that it is probable that both sexes incubate the eggs and brood the young, in a nest that is little more than a depression in the ground, lined with the dry leaves of poplars and aspens.

    One might learn that they are at times secretive (during mating and nesting) and at other times exhibitionists (giving distraction displays once young are out of the nest). And that, at a time of year when the demands of nesting are over and food is plentiful, they fight among each other, seemingly as a diversion, doing no real damage, until one surrenders by crouching down in front of the other.

    The habit of migrating south about a month ahead of its offspring is common to most species of shorebirds, including the lesserlegs. Somehow or other, the youngsters find their own way, some of them all the way to southern South America.

    That, to me, is one of the most fascinating things, but one wonders why it should be so.

    The Lesser Yellowlegs, one among several thousand species of birds in the world, is so much more than the sum of its parts and so much more than a tick on a life list. And the birder who learns that is a birder to the core.

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(This article was published in the Sun Herald in February 1995)