I recently had a discussion with someone about sitting quietly in nature and just observing your surroundings as a way to relax, increase your observation skills, and just get in tune with a natural place. It reminded me of a project I had heard about several years ago called The Sit Spot. There are various iterations of the idea, but, basically you just go outside some place that is close enough to visit frequently, and you sit. That’s right, sit, for 15 – 30 minutes, or however long you can. It is a place to commune with your surroundings, ideally with no distractions (no phones or cameras, although I do take binoculars). And you observe, listen, think about what you are seeing. When you sit quietly, the world starts to come alive around you. So, Melissa and I have been trying to go out whenever we can and sit in the woods and watch. On a recent weekend, when I was leading a tour down east, she sat and observed some of the goings-on of some of the birds that call these woods home. She later wrote a poem about what she saw. Here it is, with some photos of the birds taken at other times and in other places.
Following the Nuthatch
by Melissa Dowland
When searching for a bird of prey On a fall or winter’s day Never trust the noisy titmice Only the nuthatch will suffice.
The titmouse is a busy soul Forever making a dreadful scold. He flits about the whole day long, Rarely pausing in singing his song.
Tufted titmouse
The busy wren, he too will cry So loud, he calls, though small in size. But he is easily distracted by The lonely squirrel who wanders by.
Carolina wren
So would you like to spot a hawk On your winter hike or walk? Then heed the nuthatch’s nasal cry. For when the hawk his eye does spy
Out rolls his nasal, cranky ‘yank’ Heard over hill and down the bank. The nuthatch is a wise old bird So listen closely to his words.
“There goes the hawk, warn one and all! Oh forest, listen to our call!”
White-breasted nuthatch
So look, oh wanderer, for the source of that sound Up in the trees and on the ground. If you’re lucky you might be blessed If the nuthatch and hawk make you their guest.
Life wants you to have gratitude for the gift of living. Treasure every second.
~ Bryant McGill
The season is about over. It is hard to believe I just finished what is probably my last tour for this winter season at Mattamuskeet and Pocosin Lakes. But, if it is to be the last, at least it was a spectacular one. I was with a wonderful couple from Raleigh that were excited to see everything and learn about the incredible diversity of wildlife in the area. And we got great looks at a lot of species, including a couple of rarities.
Ice on reeds at Lake Mattamuskeet (click photos to enlarge)
We moved up our scheduled time one day to Sunday morning, due to the predicted wintry weather moving into the state on Monday. To be honest, it was wintry already, with low temperatures in the 20’s when we arrived at Mattamuskeet National Wildlife Refuge. And that means ice. It also means active birds, so we were in for a treat.
American bittern in its usual spot
As has been the case most of the winter, there were few birds were along the causeway, probably due to the extremely high water making it too deep for effective feeding by most waterfowl. As we turned into the refuge, things picked up. Right away, I spotted the faithful American bittern hunting in its usual spot next to Wildlife Drive.
Admiring his reflection?
With the high water, the bittern was a bit more exposed as it fed along the edge of the water. That gave us a chance to really admire this beauty.
The bittern’s streaked plumage helps it blend in with its surroundings
I put the scope on it to really be able to see the subtle colors, piercing eye, and greenish-yellow legs of this usually incredibly well-camouflaged marsh inhabitant.
Blonde nutria
A little farther down the road we spied an unusual-looking mammal, a very light-colored nutria. A few other, darker nutria, had greeted us when we first arrived, looking somewhat stunned in the cold weather (these South American imports don’t seem to do well when ice appears). But this little blonde guy had been feeding on the bank in the sunlight, and seemed now to be waiting for us to move on so he could get back to his lunch break. This is the first nutria I have seen with this coat color.
American coot skating on the marsh
Flocks of American coot dotted the canal banks and patches of open water, while others skated on the skim of ice out in the impoundment. You can really appreciate their lobed toes when you see them up on ice.
Common gallinule
A common gallinule was mixed in with the coot near the observation platform. These relatives of rails look similar to coots (especially this juvenile) but can be distinguished by the white stripe along each side, their habit of flicking their tail, and the lack of lobes on their especially long toes. Known to breed in isolated locations in our state, the common gallinule is fairly rare in winter, and this is the first I have seen at Mattamuskeet this year.
Great egret showing off its plumesWhite-tailed deer were out browsing along the edge of the road
The high water had closed the far end of Wildlife Drive, but we got great views of a showy great egret and several deer before turning back.
New Holland Trail partially submerged due to high waterSkim of ice in the swamp along New Holland Trail
We stopped for a short hike along New Holland Trail, one of my favorite spots at Mattamuskeet. Extremely high water and a skim of ice gave the swamp a very different look from my last visit a week ago. I love it when there is ice down here…a different world with new artistry everywhere you look.
Tundra swan lounging in the impoundment
Driving along the back side of the impoundment we watched thousands of ducks lift off when an eagle flew overhead. Another American bittern was standing along the edge of the marsh, and swans, coot, and ducks were feeding in the shallows as the sun started to dip toward the horizon. Then my phone chirped that sound it makes when I get a text message. I glanced at it…a local number, but I didn’t know who…it read least bittern on entrance road!! Whoa, I said, let’s go….but there were cars in front of us, stopping to look at swans and ducks…we waited…another text…where are you? Our volunteers told me you were around. Now I knew, it was my friend, Keith, who works at the refuge. One of the volunteers from the office had apparently spotted the bird, told Keith, and then mentioned that I was at the refuge (we spoke at the visitor center earlier in the day). Keith knew I would be interested in this bird because we had talked about it when someone saw one a few weeks ago. So, thankfully, he texted me with this news while he was photographing it on the other side of Wildlife Drive. A least bittern is not something I see very often. In fact, I have only seen two in all my years of wildlife watching.
Least bittern stands like a statue along the water’s edge
When we finally got over there, I saw Keith out with his camera. We got out, and there it was, in perfect light, standing right next to the road, motionless, like a piece of yard art. What a beautiful bird! I am guessing this is a male because of the dark head and back.
Like their larger cousins, least bitterns have an intense, piercing gaze
Least bitterns are one of the smallest herons in the world, standing only a little over 12 inches tall when stretched out, much smaller than its bulky cousin, the American bittern. The least bittern is usually more difficult to see, because of its small size and its preference for thick vegetation. These diminutive herons often walk through thick marsh vegetation (like cattails), not by wading, but by grasping the grasses with their long toes and striding through the narrow openings between the upright blades, literally sneaking through the grass above the water. This little guy was not bothering with stilt-walking, but was instead on the ground next to some standing water.
It grabs a small killifish
Keith and I crawled around on the edge of the road trying to get a good angle for some photos, while the bittern stood still. It finally moved its head, then went into classic bittern feeding mode. Within a minute of staring at the water, and slowly stretching out and downward, it struck and grabbed a small fish, gulping it down with a quick snap of its beak.
A fine way to wrap up a winter season
I would love it of this bird decides to stick around and nest somewhere in the vicinity. The young bitterns, like many young herons, are fine examples of punk feather-do birds, and I would enjoy a chance to photograph them. Odds are slim though, as they usually hide their nests fairly well in thick marsh vegetation.
The trip ended the next day with icy conditions, muddy roads at Pungo (including a large section closed due to flooding), and relatively few sightings at Pungo (although we did manage some species we did not see at Mattamuskeet – wild turkeys, a snipe, two cooper’s hawks, a sharp-shinned hawk, and a great horned owl).
It has been another very good winter season. While I am sorry to see the swans and snow geese starting to depart, I have many memories to fall back on. And the shifting season means new life just around the corner…spring wildflowers, calling frogs, migrating warblers, and so much more. I can’t wait…and I will back to the wildlife refuges to see what they offer this spring and summer, so, if you are interested in a trip, just contact me.
Over the unlucky school of fish is a bewildering maze of soaring, circling birds, pouring down out of the sky in rapid succession, plunging into the water like so many projectiles and sending columns of water and spray many feet into the air like the spouting of a school of whales.
~Arthur Cleveland Bent, 1922, describing a flock of northern gannets feeding on a school of herring
Last Saturday was one of those days when it all seems to come together. I had a chance to really observe a species that I have wanted to see up close for a long time. What made it all possible was a pelagic birding trip aboard the Stormy Petrel II out of Hatteras. One of my goals for the trip was to observe northern gannets (Morus bassanus) up close and personal. For decades, I have seen them flying and diving off the beach. Over 30 years ago, while working as the East District Naturalist for NC State Parks, I found one dead on Hammocks Beach. I remember being stunned by the beauty and size of the bird I had previously only seen through binoculars. I have since watched them plunge-diving by the hundreds from places like Bald Head Island, and seen some flying nearby while offshore on various boats. But here was a chance, from what I had heard, to spend several hours watching them close to a boat while trying to photograph their flight and dives. I was not disappointed!
Northern gannet at sunrise (click photos to enlarge)
It didn’t take long for a couple of northern gannets to start following our boat as we passed through the inlet just after sunrise. As always, I was struck by their graceful, strong flight, and their striking head colors.
Northern gannets have a distinctive shape and can be identified at great distances
When you see a northern gannet adult from afar, you see a white cross with black wing tips. It is a distinctive shape – pointed at both ends with long, narrow wings. The Peterson Guide to Seawatching pointed out something that surprised me – northern gannets have a wingspan slightly shorter than that of a brown pelican, but longer than a tundra swan! That makes them the largest bird, other than a pelican, you are likely to see off our coast.
Immatures are varying shades of dark brown with lighter splotches and speckling
Of the hundreds of gannets seen, we only had two sightings of the darker-colored immature birds during the trip. Once they leave the nest, these young gannets are believed to stay at sea for at least 3 years before returning to land.
Almost all of the northern gannets off our coast in winter are adult males
One interesting factoid that came up was that field studies the past couple of decades (largely by the late Dave Lee at the NC Museum of Natural Sciences, as reported in his book, Gulf Stream Chronicles) have revealed that almost all of the northern gannets wintering off the Carolina coast are adult males. This was determined by collecting and examining specimens, since the adult plumage of both sexes is basically identical. This has huge implications for conservation and management of this species. Since northern gannets off the Outer Banks in winter can number in the thousands, any ecological disaster in the area, such as an oil spill, could impact a disproportionately large percentage of the breeding population of this species. This is especially true since this species takes 4 to 6 years before reaching breeding age, and they typically lay only one egg per year.
You can only appreciate the blues on their face when you see one up close
One of the great highlights of the trip for me was being able to observe the gannets up close. It is only then that you can clearly see and appreciate the subtle colors of the adult bird’s head. The piercing eyes are lined with a light blue. The large, pointed bill is a blueish-gray color with black lines that outline it, the eye, and extend beyond the gape of the bill onto the neck. The head is tinged in a buff or gold color that varies among individual birds. Gannets have no external nostrils. Close inspection shows a slit-like opening near the base of the bill covered by a flap, which is forced shut over the opening when the bird plunges into the water.
Eye placement presumably gives them binocular vision
The eyes look forward, presumably giving them good binocular vision, an important aid in accurately determining distances when diving after their prey.
Gannet croaking as it flies behind the boat at sunrise
Although believed to be generally silent at sea, many of the birds coming into the chum gave a grating, guttural croak as they maneuvered for position among the other birds.
Two gannets with heads underwater attract a curious pelican
Most of the gannets we observed were diving after the chum being tossed off the stern of the boat, but we did witness them feeding on something different at one point. We passed by two gannets huddled together, heads underwater. They were soon joined by a pelican, who soon stuck his beak into the action.
The pelican joins the fray
I couldn’t quite tell what was going on until one gannet gave up, and the other emerged victorious.
One gannet pulls away with the prize
It turned out one of the gannets had caught a houndfish, a long, skinny member of the needlefish family.
Going…going…gone!
The bird finally won the struggle with its writhing prey and gulped it down.
Northern gannet plunge-diving
To catch their prey, northern gannets perform extraordinary plunge-dives from heights of as much as 100 feet above the ocean. From the shore, I have seen large flocks pelleting the ocean surface after fish in what one person has described as birds machine-gunning into the sea. These birds have special air sacs just under their skin, which one reference likened to bubble wrap under their feathers. This supposedly helps cushion the impact of the striking dives.
Cruising, scanning the water below for preyIf something is spotted, sharp turns or other maneuvers, using the tail and wings, may be necessaryZeroing in on the target at speeds that can approach 54 miles per hourWings folded back against body as the bird hits the water like a feathered spear thrown by the clouds
The anatomy of a typical low altitude dive is presented in the 4 photos above.
I mentioned in my last post that I took more photos on this trip than I ever have in any one day. Part of the reason is the fast frame rate of my camera (10 frames per second) coupled with my desire to capture a sequence of images of a northern gannet plunge dive. So, I took hundreds of images of these birds torpedoing into the water around the boat. Here are just a few more…
I think my favorite is this last one, just before the moment of impact. I observed that many of the divers entered the water at a slight angle, rather than straight down, probably due to the low altitude from which they were spotting the chum, and the abundance of other birds in the air directly above the food. Northern gannets usually dive to relatively shallow depths (10 feet), but can, if needed, dive much deeper (75 feet or so).
Gannet landing on the ocean surface
When not plunging down like arrows shot into the water, the gannets often employed another type of shallow dive. They hover just above the water surface, touch down, and then stick their head and neck underwater.
Gannet doing a shallow dive while landing on the water
Maybe they can’t help themselves and they just have to at least take a look underwater when they land on it.
The gannets took turns diving, then briefly resting on the surfaceTheir lift-off is rather clumsy
As the afternoon continued, the gannets began to alternate between bouts of diving and brief spells of landing on the water. This is how they also often behave during migrations, slowly making their way from the breeding grounds in the far north to feeding areas along the east coast. Now that I have spent a day with the divers, I really want to travel north to see their breeding colonies. There are an estimated 60,000 breeding pairs on Bonaventure Island in Canada, one of the six main breeding sites for North Atlantic northern gannets. What a sight that must be! Until then, I will seek out time with these amazing arrows of the sea anytime I can get it.
You may know the true observer, not by the big things he sees, but by the little things; and then not by the things he sees with effort and premeditation, but by his effortless, unpremeditated seeing—the quick, spontaneous action of his mind in the presence of natural objects.
John Burroughs, 1905
I had the good fortune to do something this past weekend that I have never done – go on a pelagic birding trip off the coast of North Carolina. I went with a group organized by the North Carolina Museum of Natural Sciences that included some museum staff, educators, and some members of the public interested in birds. The trip was aboard the Stormy Petrel II, a 61 foot charter boat run by Brian Patteson of Seabirding. Though I have been to sea several times on a variety of vessels, this is the first time I have gone off the Outer Banks, and the first time with the primary purpose of seeing birds and other marine life.
A beautiful sunrise to start the day (click photos to enlarge)
The day started early with a gorgeous sunrise, which is a good sign if you are heading offshore in winter. It was cold, and I had put on everything I brought with me, just in case.
Large numbers of double-crested cormorants were starting their day as we headed out
Birds made their presence known even before we left the dock with a sharp-shinned hawk gliding over us as we listened to our orientation for the charter. I was reminded of the incredible abundance of life on our coast as huge numbers (many thousands) of double-crested cormorants began leaving their evening roosts as we departed the dock.
Adult brown pelican in early morning light
A beautiful golden light flooded the scene when the sun cleared the low clouds, making everything glow. Brown pelicans were among the first birds to accompany us as we headed through Hatteras Inlet.
First mate, and birder extraordinaire, Kate, throwing out some chum behind the boat
It didn’t take long to realize that the excellent reputation I had heard for the birding (and other) knowledge of Brian and his crew are well deserved. Brian and his first mate, Kate, both have extensive knowledge of the area and its abundant wildlife. They quickly picked out rarities among the hundreds of birds surrounding us and could do so at incredible distances (on a boat that was rocking fairly significantly at times). The John Burroughs quote above is for the museum staff, and some of the birders aboard, but especially for Brian and Kate. It is always a joy to be out in the field with people that are both knowledgeable about the area, and passionate about what they do.
Birds following the boat
As we got offshore and began to throw chum off the stern, the bird assemblage grew in numbers and diversity. At first it was mainly several species of common gulls, some pelicans, and northern gannets, then some rarities, that are seldom seen from shore, started to accompany us.
Glaucous gull is a new species for me
One of the first was a new species for me, an incredibly beautiful glaucous gull. This large white gull is an immature bird with some faint mottling and a black-tipped bill.
Northern fulmar rocketing by the boat on outstretched wings
Next was a species I had seen a decade ago when I was lucky enough to spend time in the Arctic aboard a Russian icebreaker on a climate research and education mission. Northern fulmars are somewhat gull-like in appearance. They have thicker necks and can be recognized at great distances because of their flight pattern – rapid, stiff wing beats, or long periods of soaring, often in an undulating pattern above the waves, with stiff wings, and often turning with wings held perpendicular to the ocean. They are fast, efficient fliers, built for taking advantage of the uplift from ocean waves. They can be variable in color, but we mainly observed the lighter color form.
Fulmars are one of the tubenoses, recognized by a hollow ridge on top of their bill
Fulmars belong to a group known as tubenoses along with albatrosses, petrels, and storm-petrels. These pelagic species must drink sea water, and therefore are adapted to rid themselves of excess salt via active salt glands. The tubular structures on top of the bill are thought to help direct the excretions from the salt glands away from the eyes. The tubes also play a role in the well-developed sense of smell that these birds use to find food in their vast ocean habitat. A keen olfactory sense is rare among birds, but tubenoses use both sight and smell to locate food. They are known to fly back and forth into the wind tracing the source of a food smell.
Northern fulmars are a long-lived species
Many pelagic species are long-lived and take years to reach breeding age. Northern fulmars may be one of the champions in this regard. They generally do not breed until they are 8-10 years old, and may live 40 or more years. One reason they may live so long is that both chicks and adults have what seems like a very effective deterrent to predators – they can eject a foul-smelling stomach oil up to several feet. This can be particularly effective against avian predators as the oil can mat the feathers together, causing the death of the predatory birds.
At “the change”, where warm waters (bottom) meet colder waters
Not far offshore we reached what the captain called, “the change”, a zone where two water bodies of different temperatures converge. It was immediately noticeable by a distinct line between water of two colors – a brownish tint to the colder inshore waters of about 50+ degrees F, and the clear, blueish-green waters with temperatures around 70 degrees F. This zone creates a concentration of sea life and sea birds.
A flock of razorbills
In addition to the fulmars, we started seeing scattered small flocks of razorbills streaking just above the waves. Razorbills are in the group known as alcids that also includes Atlantic species such as puffins, murres, and dovekies. This group, also known as the auks, all have short, somewhat stiff wings that they use in pursuit diving for their oceanic prey of small fish and marine invertebrates. They tend to fly low over the water with rapid wing beats.
An Atlantic puffin
We did see a few Atlantic puffins, although most at a bit of a distance. A few kept leaping out of the water, flying low for a short distance, and then plunging back into the waves. The abundance of gulls, especially larger predatory species such as great black-backed gulls, was apparently enough to make these small birds very nervous about being exposed on the surface.
Black-capped petrel
At one point a shout went out from the bridge – “black-capped petrel off starboard”. This is a species not often seen this close to shore, so it was a great find on our cruise.
Sooty shearwater
We also saw a couple of shearwaters, another type of tubenose. A manx shearwater made a quick pass and a sooty shearwater stayed with us for several minutes, joining the feeding flock behind the boat. They exhibit what is called dynamic soaring, alternating between arcing above the water and dipping and soaring just above the wave tops (“shearing” off the top of the water).
One of several loggerhead sea turtles we saw
The abundance of life in this zone included many species other than birds. We saw several sharks, including a couple of very large hammerheads, plus a number of sea turtles.
Ocean sunfish fin sticking out of the water
A highlight for many was the appearance of a huge ocean sunfish, Mola mola. These bizarre-looking fish are the largest of bony fishes in the sea, reaching up to ten feet in length and 5000 pounds.
Atlantic spotted dolphin next to the boatThe dolphins enjoyed riding the bow wave
While cruising back and forth within sight of the Diamond Shoals Light, we were entertained by a pod of Atlantic spotted dolphins, Stenella frontalis. These beautiful creatures of the Gulf Stream frolicked next to the boat for many minutes, riding the bow wave and occasionally leaping out of the water to the excited shouts of everyone (even those that were experiencing the scourge of rough waters, seasickness).
Look who is coming aboard!
We also had a close encounter of the pouched kind…a juvenile brown pelican landed on the top deck of the boat and sat up there for quite some time before flopping down on the head of someone trying to recover from her queasiness on the rocking boat.
This pelican hitched ride with us for a couple of hours
Kate helped the bird off the boat not once, but twice before it got the message that this cruise was for paying passengers only. It was an incredible adventure for everyone. The museum staff had prepared everyone well for the journey with information on hat to bring and how to best avoid seasickness. They also had given great information on some of the species we might expect to see. I ended up taking more photographs than I ever have in one day, many taken while trying to capture the amazing dives of the elegant northern gannets that accompanied us all day (more on that in the next post). For more information on the trip, including a species list, you can visit Brian’s blog. For a good overview of the importance of this area to marine life, I highly recommend the book, Gulf Stream Chronicles, by the late Dave Lee, an ornithologist at the NC Museum of Natural Sciences. Dave worked for years helping to document the bird life and other marine species found off the Outer Banks and helping reveal how rich this ecosystem is in ocean life. Below are just a few more images from an amazing day in the critically important waters off our coast.
Juvenile brown pelican landing behind boatBrown pelican in the golden glow of sunriseCommon loonA dolphin surfaces next to the boatThis glaucous gull followed us most of the dayNorthern fulmar riding the wind above the wavesBlack-legged kittiwakeMass of birds feeding on chum behind the boatNorthern gannet (more on this species in my next post)
He prefers solitude, and leads the eccentric life of a recluse, “forgetting the world, and by the world forgot.” To see him at his ordinary occupation, one might fancy him shouldering some heavy responsibility, oppressed with a secret, or laboring in the solution of a problem of vital consequence. He stands motionless, with his head drawn in upon his shoulders, and half-closed eyes, in profound meditation, or steps about in a devious way,
~Elliott Coues, describing an American Bittern,1874
One of my highlights of any winter trip to Mattamuskeet NWR is the sighting of a most unusual denizen of the marsh, the American bittern, Botaurus lentiginosus. This is a bird ideally adapted to its surroundings.
American bittern out in the open at Mattamuskeet (click photos to enlarge)
They can be fairly reliable at the refuge this time of year if you look long enough in the right places. This past trip we managed to see at least 5 individuals, including a couple that flushed from grasses along a canal at Pungo, where they are generally much harder to locate. They are easiest to see when they are feeding right along the edge of the marsh next to the road. I think most people are looking farther out at the numerous waterfowl in the impoundment, and manage to drive by the secretive bitterns without ever seeing one.
Grass with eyes and a beak
I usually coach my participants to look for a clump of grass with eyes and a beak – that’s your bittern. On my last trip, while driving along the road that skirts the northwest shore of Lake Mattamuskeet, I spotted a dark shape in marsh grass next to the road. I shouted, “bittern”, to my group, brought the car to a stop, looked for traffic in my rear view mirror, and then backed up about fifty feet, hoping I was right. I pulled up next to the bird, and I noticed no one said anything, so I said, “right there, next to the car”. Indeed, it was a bittern, and not a bittern-shaped log. Everyone but me ( I was watching for cars) got some great shots, as the light was perfect, and the bittern assumed its upright posture that makes it blend so well with the surrounding grasses. Driving on, we found another near the refuge entrance kiosk. I saw in the wildlife observation notebook at the Visitor Center that someone had spotted the much less common least bittern in this same area the week before. We continued along Wildlife Drive and spotted another American bittern in thick grasses next to the road. This one allowed us to exit the vehicle and watch it for about thirty minutes, as it skulked along, appearing and disappearing among the waves of wind-flattened grasses.
They stalk with a deliberate, creeping motion
They are very deliberate mash stalkers, slowly, yet smoothly, gliding through grasses looking for their favorite prey.
A bittern gulps down a killifish snack
I have seen them eat a variety of food from small fish to tadpoles, large aquatic insects, and even a baby painted turtle.
Finally out in the open
They can be a tough subject to photograph, as they usually are found in, or quickly retreat to, thick vegetation. A quick look at their feathers and you can see why – they blend very well with grass stalks in a marsh.
The bittern stare
When they think they have been discovered by a photographer (or potential predator), they often assume an upright stance, pointing their bill skyward. This behavior has given rise to a few of their other common names such as sky-gazer, look-up, and stake-bird. To complete the disguise, if a light breeze blows through the grasses, a bittern will gently sway back and forth, imitating the movement of its surroundings.
A male American bittern calling (photo taken in April, 2013)
A couple of years ago, I reported about finally hearing the strange mating call that has given this unusual bird a host of other odd-sounding names like thunder pumper, water-belcher, and stake-driver. The sound reminds me of the noise the bubbles make when someone draws a glass of water from from the office water cooler. This is accompanied by an impressive visual display that includes lots of head bobbing, neck puffing, and beak thrusting. All in all, the American bittern is a treat anytime you encounter one. Just keep looking at those marsh grasses until you see a clump staring back at you.
Watching the animals come and go, and feeling the land swell up to meet them and then feeling it grow still at their departure, I came to think of the migrations as breath, as the land breathing.
~Barry Lopez
What a difference a week makes. Less than seven days had passed between my last two groups, but things have dramatically changed at Pocosin Lakes NWR. The snow geese had arrived later than normal this year, and now have left earlier than usual. Where there had been 40,000+, we saw one. And, it seems, the tundra swans may be departing the refuge a little early as well. There still seem to be a few thousand, but their numbers are way down from what we saw back in late December, and almost none are feeding on refuge lands. The warm weather, and what appears to be less corn and winter wheat on the refuge, may be to blame. Or maybe, as Barry Lopez so eloquently puts it, the land is simply breathing and exhaling the geese northward. But, there are still things to discover and enjoy, if you look closely.
Juvenile bald eagle overhead at Pungo (click photos to enlarge)
I arrived early the day of my tour, in hopes of finding some interesting things to share later with my group. With the snow geese gone, the eagles are not as numerous as in recent trips. But, a young bald eagle (looks like a first year bird based on the plumage) still gave me a nice fly over shortly after my arrival.
Large black bear sow
I took a short walk into the forest and was rewarded with a couple of black bears, including one large sow. I took a few photos but quickly left, after requesting that she and her two youngsters hang around for another few hours.
Finally, I find the great horned owl nest
I have been hearing the great horned owls calling in a patch of woods on previous trips so I was went looking for any sign of a nest. I have found two other nests on the refuge over the years. One was in a pine in what was probably an old red-tailed hawk nest; the other atop a snag with a platform of poison ivy vines spreading out from the top. I finally spotted a large stick nest in the fork of a lone pine tree. I didn’t see anything at first, but then noticed a feather on the side of the nest blowing in the wind. When I put the spotting scope on it, it looked like an owl feather. I moved around for a different view and saw what looked like ears sticking up above the nest.
Great horned owl sitting on eggs or young (heavily cropped photo)
The scope revealed it to be the ear tufts of a great horned owl, most likely sitting on her eggs, as this species is probably the earliest breeder in our state. I stayed well away from the nest so as to not disturb her. I can check on the nest on future trips with the spotting scope without getting close. This is a good time to remind readers that almost all of the photos of wildlife in this blog are taken with a large telephoto lens, and are cropped in processing, so the animals are not as close as they sometimes appear.
Young black bear rushes across trail to cover
When my group arrived, we headed back to check on the bears and the owl nest. It seemed as though the bear had heeded my wishes and was walking toward us as we headed down the path. We stopped and she wandered off, followed by two young, both sporting a distinctive grayish coat. Then, another bear crossed the path, followed by three more bears! Quite a start to our trip.
Black bear sow and young
At least some of these same bears hung around that general area for the next day as well. We saw another group on our hike the next morning. I always try to give the bears plenty of room. We are quiet and try to stand still when we see one, and I like to let the bears take whatever path they want. I have seen people try to cut them off in order to get a closer look or a better picture, but it is best to respect their wildness, and let them be. Enjoy the experience, but keep the bears unstressed and wild.
Excellent camouflage makes these snakes difficult to see on the forest floor
The other thing I wanted to check on was the tree where I had seen the rattlesnake two weeks earlier. I carefully checked the area around the tree as I approached, knelt down and shined a light inside the base – no snake. Not too surprising as it had been a cold night and there was even ice in tire ruts on the road when we walked in. So, with all the bears in the area, I started to walk down the path, looking ahead for any signs of bears through the trees. The next thing I know, I had what can only be described as a too-close-of-an-encounter with that snake, who was luckily quite docile in the chilly air.
Rattlesnake stretched out in morning sun
We took a bunch of photos and then left the snake alone. We checked on it the next day, after seeing even more bears, and found it a little more active in the warming weather. It was slowly crawling in roughly the same area where we had seen it the day before.
A close look (and a telephoto lens) shows the beauty of this snake
This is a beautiful specimen, and apparently a tough one, as it doesn’t seem to mind being out in some pretty cool weather. Today, it chose to lie in a sunny spot, soaking in the morning warmth.
The rattler was more active than the past couple of sightings, and even flicked its tongue a few timesClose up of rattle
We took some more pictures and then left it alone. I can’t help but wonder how it will fare if a bear encounters it in this cool weather. I also can’t believe I may now need to look at the ground more carefully as I walk these winter woods, instead of constantly scanning the skies for waterfowl and other birds as I have done for over thirty five years. Strange times indeed.
We found two shed deer antlers
My first morning at Pungo I saw a buck white-tailed deer, with only one antler, running through a field. It is that time of year when male deer are dropping their antlers in preparation for starting the new growth later this spring. As it turned out, we found two different shed antlers as we walked. You are most likely to find them shortly after they are dropped and before squirrels, mice, and other animals start chewing them up to get the calcium.
Great blue heron with a nice catfish for breakfast
While watching the swans one morning, someone in the group spotted a great blue heron with something in its beak. It turned out to be a large catfish. We watched as the heron repeatedly tried to swallow the large meal. We think it finally gulped down its meal before flying off to hunt again.
Tundra swan fly over
Tundra swans flew back and forth overhead as the day progressed so we had plenty of good looks and photo opportunities.
Nutria feeding on duckweedA trio of young nutria
We split our time between the Pungo Unit of Pocosin Lakes NWR and Mattamuskeet. As the weather warmed over the weekend, we saw a lot of nutria out feeding.
Great blue heron at sunrise at Lake MattamuskeetNorthern pintails in marshGreat blue heron resting in a pineWhite ibis feeding in impoundment along Wildlife Drive
Driving along Wildlife Drive, we saw hundreds of ducks and swans, along with a variety of other birds.
Silhouette of turkey vulture (lower left) compared to black vulture (upper right)
Late Saturday afternoon we enjoyed seeing vultures come into roost in trees near the lodge. At one point I grabbed a photo of a turkey vulture alongside its smaller cousin, a black vulture. The latter looks as though someone had trimmed its tail feathers (relative to a turkey vulture). Black vultures are also smaller and tend to flap their wings more than a turkey vulture.
Great egret landing in tree top
The late hour also brought in several great egrets, white ibis, and some cattle egrets to roost in the trees across the canal from the lodge. This spot has traditionally been a roost for black-crowned night herons, but I have seen none of them in these trees this winter.
Alligator in canal at Gull Rock Game LandsClose up of smiling gator
One of the biggest eye-openers of the trip came on our last afternoon as we explored some new territory down toward Gull Rock Game Lands. In a canal bordering a wetland containing ibis, a grebe, and a double-crested cormorant, we discovered another surprising January reptile – an American alligator. It was about a 6-footer, basking in the sun, and seemingly unconcerned about the three cameras being pointed at it.
And so this month of wildlife wonders has come to a close. A strange month indeed, but an exciting one. One other critter worth mentioning that we saw on the last day of January – an orange and black butterfly near the lodge at Mattamuskeet. It was flying away from me when I spotted it out about 75 feet, but through the binoculars it looked like a monarch, not a viceroy. Either one is a big surprise for a winter day in North Carolina. It seems the land is breathing a bit oddly this season. I wonder what the coming spring will hold?
The older I get, the more I find beauty in the dazzling displays of light and clouds that form the sunrises and sunsets of my life. They remind me of the passing of time, of things seen and to be seen. They can form the book ends of a memorable experience in a wild place, or in a day simply looking out the window here in the woods. And, true to form for me, I prefer the skies (and temperatures) of winter to those of summer. This past weekend, I had a group of photographers with me on a trip to Pungo and Mattamuskeet, and we were keenly aware of the majesty in the skies as we chased the light each morning and evening, and enjoyed the subtleties of color that paint our surroundings and the life that calls this big sky country home. Later this week I will post about some of the extraordinary wildlife we observed, but, today, I just want to share some of the simple artistry we experienced at sunrise and sunset, surely the best times of day.
Sunset Friday night at Pungo…
Tundra swans flying back to the refuge at sunset (click photos to enlarge)
Sunrise Saturday at Pungo…
Canal reflections at sunriseMorning light tinting the feathers of flying swans
Sunset Saturday at Mattamuskeet…
A golden hour spotlight falls on roosting white ibisJuvenile white ibis in bald cypress treeGreat egret preening at last lightSunlight bathes the underside of a great egret coming to roost
A different angle to the sun creates very different lighting on another egretBroomsedge seeds glow in the setting sun“The tree” at sunset at Lake MattamuskeetPink clouds and tree silhouettes
Sunrise Sunday at Lake Mattamuskeet…
Sunrise at the cypress island at Lake MattamuskeetTelephoto shot of clouds on the horizonGolden lining to clouds at sunrise
Sunset Sunday at Pungo…
Swans flying in against a thickening cloud coverA surprise fiery sky as we drove back to Plymouth
These ephemeral glimpses of beauty help remind us what an amazing world we live in and how we should pause to enjoy it, to make it what we do, and to live in the moment.
Here is a moment of extravagant beauty: I drink it liquid from the shells of my hands and almost all of it runs sparkling through my fingers: but beauty is like that, it is a fraction of a second, quickness of a flash and then immediately it escapes.
I had a one day refuge tour with a wonderful couple on Monday. I went down Sunday evening, just to make sure I could get down there, given the wild weather we had over the weekend. Turns out, once I got out of the neighborhood, the roads were fine. I arrived at Pungo just in time for sunset.
White-tailed deer in fields (click photos to enlarge)
A large flock of swans was feeding close to the road. I drove by to turn around so I could have my side of the car close to the flock. When I stopped to turn, I noticed a large number of deer out in the corn stubble. When I scanned the field, I counted twenty four deer. As the evening progressed, I saw the most deer in one spot that I have seen in a number of years, upward of fifty.
Tundra swans feeding in field next to road
As I pulled up next to the flock, the swans scurried several feet away from the road, necks outstretched in their typical alert pose. It only took a couple of minute for the swans to return to the edge of the field where the last of the corn was most abundant. The late afternoon light was beautiful on their white feathers, giving them a golden cast.
Tundra swan with hints of gold from the setting sun
The light quickly faded to grays and birds began to fly back toward the lake, singly, and in small groups.
A few thousand swans feeding in a field
The flock was in constant motion and the sounds were mesmerizing. I was the only person watching and it was magical. But, something was missing…the loud sounds of tens of thousands of snow geese. They had been here the previous week, feeding with the swans. Tonight, there were only a handful.
Sunrise from the observation platform
The next morning we were at the platform for sunrise. Pungo Lake was partially frozen and the birds were far off on the north side. Snow geese lifted off, circled, and resettled onto the lake surface. There were only a few thousand, not the 40,000+ of a week ago. Are they already departing?
Heavy frost decorated every fallen leaf……and even a fallen feather
The cold morning air had left the leaf litter and standing weed stalks heavy with frost, a beautiful coating of crystals on everything near the ground.
Ruddy duck and reflection
The impoundment was partially frozen and we watched swans trying to push their way through the skim of ice as we slowly drove past. A cooperative ruddy duck allowed us to get out of the car and create portraits with detailed reflections. Continuing down the road we started seeing lots of ducks – gadwall, northern shovelers, mallards, and wood ducks – flush out of the swamp along the roadside canal. Suddenly, something streaked across the road in pursuit of one of the ducks. It was a Cooper’s Hawk, tying to catch a northern shoveler hen. The pair bobbed and weaved in the air down the canal and then the duck dove into the water with a huge splash in a last ditch effort to escape. The hawk swooped up to an overhanging limb. The duck surfaced and swam around nervously. We drove slowly toward them and the hawk flew back across the road. More ducks flushed out ahead of us and the hawk swooped back, and the whole scene was repeated again, and again a duck (this time a wood duck) barely escaped. Finally, the hawk gave up and moved elsewhere to find a meal. It is always amazing to witness such an event.
Northern shoveler male
Not far down the canal, we encountered another pair of northern shovelers. The stunning drake swam out into the open and the morning light made his colors pop in intensity. And that eye…that striking yellow eye.
Fur ball in a hollow tree
We continued on, hoping for snow geese. They flew out of the lake but headed beyond the refuge. Instead of waiting for the missing geese to come into the fields, I opted for a leisurely stroll through the woods. Flocks of red-winged blackbirds danced over the corn, flying back and forth to the safety of the tree tops as we headed down the edge of the field. Tiny helicopters, pine seeds, rained down on us as the hungry birds picked at pine cones high over our heads. Temperatures were warming, it was sunny, a perfect day for finding a bear napping against a tree trunk or a sleeping raccoon in a tree. A pair of pileated woodpeckers sounded the alarm as we entered the forest. Flocks of American robins were feeding on the ground in openings in the trees, probably finding worms forced to the surface by the wet conditions. I am always scanning the trees looking for anything out of place – a lump on a limb, a pair of eyes peering out of a knot hole, or a patch of fur in a hollow trunk. And then, there it was, a blob of gray fur barely visible in an open hollow in a tree trunk.
A sleepy raccoon gives us the eye
We walked closer, briefly waking the raccoon. It gave us a couple of glances like the ones you get when you awaken a sleeping spouse or child. You know, the “hey, can’t you see I’m sleeping here” sort of look, half disgust, half “I’m just too tired to do anything about it”. We apologized and walked on.
Another ball of fur
Before heading back to the car, I wanted to check the hollow tree where I had found a sleeping raccoon on a previous trip. There was no raccoon in the tree trunk this time, but it was obvious that a bear had clawed at the opening since my last visit. I suppose the raccoon had to find another bedroom after that. But, it looks like it might not have moved very far. I looked up at a hole in a nearby tree and there was another ball of raccoon fur. This time, the raccoon barely moved as we walked by. At least we weren’t scratching at his door.
American bittern
We spent the afternoon at Lake Mattamuskeet, getting great looks at a variety of waterfowl and waders. Large flocks of northern pintails jumped into the sky along Wildlife Drive anytime an eagle flew across the wetlands. And we managed to find a cooperative bittern snagging small fish along the edge of the marsh (if only they would come out into the open for their picture).
Deer were common at Mattamuskeet as well
We ended the day back at Pungo, hoping to see a show of snow geese, but they were nowhere to be found. Even the swans had largely moved onto private lands as corn supplies have apparently been picked over in most of the refuge fields. The evening ended with a spectacular sunset (and me with no camera) as we walked along a quiet roadside, soaking it all in. Great horned owls were calling. A few American woodcock zigzagged out of the swamps into the fields to feed. Then we heard something that I have never heard here – first, one howl, then another. And they were close to us, just out of sight in a thicket of river cane in the woods. The sky was on fire with a pink and red sunset, and here we are listening to two animals welcoming the approaching darkness. I must admit, the sound sent chills through me. The howls continued for a minute or so. We walked back to the car, admiring the spectacular show in the sky and wondering what we had just heard. Listening to some audio files online when I got home that night, I guess they could have been red wolves. I like to think so. Even in a place where you have intimate knowledge of its beauties, there are always new mysteries to be solved. I can’t wait to see what we find on my next trip.
I was able to get out of the neighborhood to head to Pungo for a tour tomorrow. The roads are still icy, but the 4wd had no problem. Melissa wandered the yard after I left and sent a poem she wrote after seeing so many tracks. It makes a nice addition to the blog. I hope you enjoy it.
I walk across the white landscape
as though on pavement,
or the hardwood floor in the living room.
The ice is dusted with snow
so that the each toe of each foot
is perfectly marked.
Only the sharp hooves of the deer
cut through the ice-pavement.
I can see where the squirrel ran
from tree to tree,
and where the rabbit huddled
next to the hollow maple.
Gray squirrel tracks
I can mark the path of the neighbors cat–
visiting each site where you
so carefully laid out seed for the birds.
Domestic cat tracks
And there’s the distinctive trail of the lame crow–
dragging its right leg,
toes curled down and under.
Crow tracks – right leg is lame
I guess, if we look closely,
and see clearly,
we are able to find
the path that we have followed;
we can trace our footsteps back
to the seed-pile
or the hollow tree.
But it’s the unmarked snow ahead
that both beckons and halts us…
I’ve always loved the thrill of breaking trail–
making the first path
through a sea of white.
I would build roads through the yard as a child,
to the fence-line, and beyond.
But those childhood paths always circled
back to home
and hot chocolate.
The real courage, it seems, comes
when you don’t know what lies ahead;
when the path is hidden,
and home is out of sight.
Where is the joy, then?
Why do I not remember the siren call
of the snowy yard
when life’s choices loom large?
I guess, in the end,
though I wish it was,
life isn’t quite like
playing in the snow.
Nature has not only given us life, but can also give us reasons for living positively: Curiosity, wonderment, imagination, and knowledge are just a few of the ways Nature can beckon us.
~Mike McDowell
Between the phenomenal evening shows of snow geese last week, I had a quiet sunrise at Pungo, mostly to myself. It was a cold morning and overnight a skim of ice had formed in the waters of the managed impoundment, and in the nearby swamps. I headed for a place I knew I could see swans in the early morning light. As I neared the water, I saw first one, then two, and finally, four bald eagle silhouettes patrolling the flooded area, no doubt looking for a carcass or a weak swan.
A bald eagle surveys the marsh before dawn while a group of swans flies in the distance (click photos to enlarge)
The huge birds seemed to prefer a couple of snags along the canals as their morning perch, so I positioned my car where I had a good look at them as the sun began to creep above the horizon. Many of the trees along the canals have been pushed over by heavy equipment in recent years, perhaps due to the potential for trees along ditch banks to weaken the canal edges if they fall. But, the raptorss certainly like to use them for perches to survey their surroundings.
Snow Geese began flying off Pungo Lake just after sunrise
As daylight increased, so did the activity in the air, with swans, ducks, and snow geese beginning their morning departures. The snow geese came off in smaller groups than usual, but still flying in their characteristic wavy lines.
An eagle takes flight at first light
The eagles continued to make short flights out over the impoundment, but I didn’t see any attacks or dropping down to a possible carcass. As the sun rose above the treeline, all the eagles flew off in search of better hunting. Later that morning, I did see four bald eagles on a fresh swan carcass in a field just beyond the refuge boundary. It is that time of year when birds weaken and die or are wounded by hunters on nearby private lands. The abundance of carcasses provides a bounty for eagles, vultures, and a host of other scavengers.
Tundra swans, tinged in pinkish morning light, waking up at dawn to a frozen world
The swans in the nearby marshy area were waking up to changes in their world – parts of it had frozen overnight. I always enjoy seeing these huge birds standing on the ice. There was one small group surrounding a small open pool. The swans kept splashing and dunking their bodies in the cold water, and then would get out, preen, and flap their wings to greet the new day. I watched them for several minutes and then headed off to explore other parts of the refuge as the daylight intensified.
Double-crested cormorant perched on a post in the impoundment
I had not gone far when I spied a double-crested cormorant perched on a post out in the water. These are not common birds at Pungo, as there are not many fish here except in the canals and perhaps the impoundment. Pungo Lake, unlike nearby Lake Phelps and Mattamuskeet, is peat-based, and, therefore, too acidic and turbid to support much aquatic vegetation of fish life.
The eye of a cormorant is a beautiful green
I particularly admire the eyes of these primitive birds – a striking green under the right conditions of sunlight. This one never turned just right to have the eye color pop, but you can see hints of it here.
Northern harrier cruising the corn, looking for a meal
Driving along D-Canal Road, I saw four northern harriers buzzing a stand of flooded corn just across the canal on private land. This standing corn is a duck hunting area and is very effective in attracting ducks and other wildlife. The harriers were cruising back and forth repeatedly, so I pulled over and attempted a few passing shots with my 500 mm lens. Northern harriers are efficient fliers, using a slight dihedral wing pattern (much like a turkey vulture’s wing profile while soaring) that helps keep them aloft with little flapping of their long wings. They fly low, moving back and forth over fields, looking for small birds and mammals.
Northern harriers that are brown in color are either adult females or immature birds
Three of the four were either adult female or immature harriers. Immatures and adult females are brown, with varying degrees of brown streaks on their breast. I think this might be an adult female since the breast is primarily white with heavy streaking.
Northern harrier adult male
Adult males are ghostly in appearance – a light belly, gray upper parts with black wing tips, and the characteristic white rump patch found in all ages and sexes of harriers.
A small bird pops up in the corn after a harrier passes
I watched the hawks for about 20 minutes, constantly working the patch of corn, trying to stir up some prey. A female harrier did hover once, then dropped down into the corn, but I did not see whether it caught anything or not. My favorite moment came when a small bird popped up right after a harrier passed overhead, looked at the hawk, and flew off in the opposite direction. Such are the priceless moments of nature you can witness at a place like Pungo…reason enough to visit time and again.
Roads End Naturalist 