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.
Don’t refuse to go on an occasional wild goose chase – that’s what wild geese are for.
~Henry J. Haskins
I am lucky in retirement to have more time to seek out places that provide a wildlife spectacle. There is something transformative about witnessing masses of animals in a wild place. This time of year, one of the true spectacles at many of our wildlife refuges in the East, is the concentration of waterfowl of various species on their wintering grounds. One of my favorite sights and sounds of winter is a huge flock of Snow Geese flying overhead. So, about a week ago, I went north to Chincoteague looking for waterfowl. It snowed on my second day, and the next morning I went out one last time looking for large flocks, hoping the cold and wind might concentrate them.
Snow Geese hunkered down against the cold and wind (click photos to enlarge)
The flock was there but easy to miss as they were hunkered down on an over-wash fan on the sound side of the beach parking area. There were maybe a little more than a hundred Snow Geese in this group. I pulled up to watch and not a goose moved for several minutes. With temperatures in the teens and a strong wind, I didn’t blame them.
Snow Geese on edge of marsh at Tom’s Cove in Chincoteague NWR
Finally, a few got up and walked toward the marsh to feed when another hundred or so flew in.
Snow Goose juvenile with a high fiber snack
In areas with extensive marshes, Snow Geese tend to grub up the marsh grasses, consuming almost any part of the plant from roots to stems, to leaves.
Many of the Snow Geese at Chincoteague have rust-colored heads
This grubbing behavior often leads to the white head, neck, and breast feathers having a rust-colored stained appearance due to the mineral content of the mud. I rarely see this on the Snow Geese at Pungo, as they tend to feed more on waste grain in agricultural fields.
Bloodied Snow Goose
Before leaving, I did see a goose with a different color – blood red. This goose had been injured (shot perhaps?) and had been bleeding somewhere on the head or neck. After watching the bird for several minutes, it seemed to be doing well, moving normally and feeding with the others in the marsh.
With relatively few birds at Chincoteague, and one more day to look for large flocks, I headed back to my favorite place, the Pungo Unit of Pocosin Lakes National Wildlife Refuge, to spend my last day on the road searching for snows.
Tundra Swans crowd a recently cut corn field at Pungo
I arrived at Pungo late in the afternoon. The light was gorgeous coming into a recently cut corn field adjacent to one of the main roads on the refuge. There were a few thousand Tundra Swans feeding on the corn and many more flying in. This was a good sign, as large flocks of swans often attract the Snow Geese as they search for a late day feeding. I pulled off the road, along with a couple of other cars, to take it all in. I didn’t have to wait long. At first, about 50 Snow Geese flew in, circled, and landed among their taller cousins. Then I saw them coming, a huge flock flying in from the lake. I jumped out and quickly put the camera on a tripod and started recording…
The flock did its usual thing, noisily circling the field, breaking up into a couple of white clouds, and started landing. A lot of the swans decided it was time to head back to the lake with all the commotion starting, so the scene was chaotic with birds circling, others leaving, and everyone making a lot of noise. It is tough to take it all in. I certainly can see how flocks can confuse predators, as I found myself not knowing which way to look or point the camera, since there was something happening in all directions. This was all repeated the next evening, so these photos are from two afternoon shows.
A beautiful moon added to the scene
This is what I wanted to see, the large swirls of birds in the sky, the late afternoon light tinging their bodies and wings with hints of gold. An almost full moon overhead added a touch of elegance to the scene, as did the graceful swans.
A Snow Goose hangs in the air looking for room to land
Both evenings, the sea of white moved closer to the edge of the road where I stood, getting access to the corn that remained uneaten. The geese kept coming in, streaming down among the swans, who seemed disturbed by the interlopers in their field.
A blue morph Snow Goose landing with white morphs
Noticeable among the white birds are several of the darker color morphs. Long believed to be a separate species, the Blue Goose, these are now known to be a color morph of the race of Lesser Snow Geese. This color variation is controlled by a single gene. The two color morphs can mate with each other and produce young of either or both colors.
A Ross’s Goose feeds at the edge of the flock
Near the edge of the churning flock, I spot a diminutive Ross’s Goose. roughly half the size of a Snow Goose, but otherwise very similar. Their bill is shorter and lacks the black “grin line” of a Snow Goose, but that feature is not always easy to discern as their heads bob up and down while feeding.
A blast off of white and black
A car pulls up, and people jump out, and the birds close to them blast off with a deafening sound of squawks and wings. With a telephoto lens, I just capture a tiny window of the scene….imagine it one thousand fold for a sense of the immensity of the upward moving snow storm. They circle and land again. The wind is coming from my back, as is the sun, causing the beautifully lit birds to land facing my camera, just what you want for capturing images of winged snowflakes.
A pair of Snow Geese early in the afternoon, before the “golden hour”A slight turn as it lands reveals the entire underside of this birdSome birds looks like they are thinking ahead about foot placementIt must be tough to find the right spotA trio of blue morphs landingI caught this collared Snow Goose as it came in to the fieldI love it when the shadow of the head can be seen on the wingsThe light turns golden in the last part of the dayThe two color morphs together
Populations of Snow Geese have increased dramatically since the early 1900’s, when hunting was stopped due to low numbers. It resumed again in 1975 after populations had recovered. The numbers have continued to grow, causing some scientists and managers to think that the tundra nesting habitat of Snow Geese is beginning to suffer from such high concentrations of feeding birds in summer. They are now probably one of the most abundant waterfowl species in North America, and concentrate in huge flocks during migration. A friend recently told me that our refuges can’t justify planting corn for Snow Geese because their numbers are so high. But, we both agreed, from a refuge visitor standpoint, the Snow Geese offer a spectacle that few other species of wildlife can match.
The time will come when winter will ask what you were doing all summer.
~Henry Clay
I had some time to explore over the recent holiday weekend, but decided that my favorite place, Pungo, would probably be too crowded so I thought I should try someplace else. My original plan was to head to Florida, but, with some chores that needed attention on Friday, and uncertain weather forecasts, I opted for a closer destination. I headed north on Saturday to Chincoteague National Wildlife Refuge on the Eastern Shore of Virginia. Established in 1943, the refuge totals over 14,000 acres of ocean-side habitats including beach, dune fields, marsh, and maritime forest.
A beautiful afternoon sky greeted me along the Wildlife Loop at Chincoteague (click photos to enlarge)
I arrived just in time to drive out onto the Wildlife Loop (it opens at 3 pm to cars; you can hike or bicycle earlier in the day), which has produced some nice sightings on previous trips. The trail was packed with people, but relatively few birds.
Great Egret hunting along the marsh
I saw a handful of ducks, an eagle, and a couple of herons and egrets. The sky and afternoon light were beautiful, but clouds were quickly moving in, and the forecast had changed to an increased chance of precipitation overnight and the next day.
Sunset over the marsh at Tom’s Cove
The cloud cover thickened as I drove out toward the beach hoping to see some shorebirds or gulls. Along the way, a striking sunset began to color the sky, so I stopped to watch it progress. I spotted something out on a sliver of land (to the right of the duck blind in the photo) and when I glassed it, saw that there was a small herd of the famous Chincoteague wild ponies grazing in the marsh. I must admit, I usually don’t take many photos of wild horses, but I couldn’t help myself as the sunset grew in intensity.
I got out the 500mm with a teleconverter and took a series of shots as the horizon burst into flames of orange and red. Anytime there is a pony within sight on the refuge, crowds begin to gather, and the road was soon lined with cars enjoying a spectacular end to the day.
Wet snow the next morning
The next morning was just gray and cold. So much for the old “red sky at night, sailor’s delight” theory. By 9 a.m. a very wet snow was falling. The changed forecast called for snow all day and then bitter cold and strong winds. Florida was looking like a better choice, perhaps. But, I decided to make the best of it.
Delmarva Fox Squirrel with a pine cone
I geared up and hiked the 1.6 mile Woodland Trail, hoping to find a Screech Owl or some other wildlife holed up in one of the many cavities in the dead pines (a pine beetle outbreak has killed large numbers of pines on the refuge). Since the snow had intensified, I just carried my point-and-shoot and binoculars. Of course, with my good camera in the car, I came across a very cooperative (and wet) Delmarva Fox Squirrel chewing on a pine cone. These beautiful squirrels have just recently been taken off the Endangered Species List. They are huge, weighing up to 3 pounds, making them roughly three times the size of your typical backyard Gray Squirrel. I soon started feeling about as wet as the squirrel, so I headed back to the hotel to dry out and do a little writing. The snow continued all day, but eased up late in the afternoon. I soon headed back to the Wildlife Loop, hoping the bad weather might have created some wildlife opportunities.
Merlin on a snowy perch
There were few birds (and now almost no people) until I got almost all the way around the 3.5 mile loop. A lone snag at the edge of the marsh had a nice surprise perched up on a high branch – a Merlin. This has been a good winter for Merlin sightings and this pugnacious little falcon was very cooperative. I sat with it for 15 minutes until another person came along and spooked it. But it gave me a lot of poses as it apparently was stretching and trying to dry out its feathers.
Merlin fanning its tail in an attempt to dry outMerlin yoga
Darkness came quickly with light snow still falling. The next morning was clearing, but bitterly cold, with temperatures in the teens and a strong northerly wind.
Snow plastered on one side of tree trunks
The winds had painted one side of the trees white with the remaining snowfall overnight, but few people were out to enjoy the scene as I patrolled the refuge roads.
Horses in the marsh in front of the lighthouse
I was the only one seeing the horses as they now grazed the marsh near the historic Assateague Lighthouse, completed in 1867. It seemed as though all the wildlife was hungry and active in the cold.
Great Blue Heron strikes the water and grabs a killifish for a morning snackMallards dabbling for breakfastBald Eagle cruising for a meal
The overnight drop in temperatures froze some of the shallow pools and brought birds to the deeper channels close to the road, providing me with a better look than the previous two days.
Brilliant green head of a male MallardFemale BuffleheadMale Gadwall showing his diagnostic black tail
The morning turned out to be productive, in terms of good bird sightings, and the light was just right to highlight some of the details of the ducks. I still had another day to search for critters. Bombay Hook perhaps? While there were reportedly some good numbers of Snow Geese up there, it was another 3 hours north.
Standing watch and giving me direction
But then I saw this guardian of the marsh, and he seemed to be giving me a clue. His bill pointed back toward the south. Finally, I understood, and I convinced myself to go where I knew there would be birds…back home to North Carolina. Pungo was only a little over three hours away and I could make it in time for the evening show…
The camera is an instrument that teaches people how to see without a camera.
~ Dorothea Lange
One of my groups a week ago were all members of a photography club. I generally don’t do the classic photography workshop type of program. I am usually more interested in helping people see the natural world with a new set of eyes, learn about an area and its wildlife, and begin to see how they can improve their photography by becoming more observant. This group turned out to be interested in photographing a wide variety of subjects, not just the wildlife I am found for them, but so much more. With the weather being less than ideal, I decided to visit some areas that might offer a diversity of photographic topics given the conditions of overcast skies, occasional drizzling rain and mist. It seems they were up to the challenge of the weather and, from what I have seen online, they produced some beautiful images. And, as usual, I always learn something by being around photographers. I normally don’t take many photos when I am leading a trip, but I found that once I got this group to a location, they were very content to wander and look for subjects, with occasional help and interpretation from me. So, here are some images of things we saw, other than wildlife, on a couple of misty, gray days. Thanks to my group for giving me reason to pause, stretch myself, and appreciate some of the other beauties in our world.
Marsh scene (click photos to enlarge)Crab potsAbandoned boat in Swan QuarterScene along the boardwalk at Pettigrew State ParkLake Phelps in fogBald cypress silhouettes at Lake PhelpsWood Sorrel leavesCypress tree in Lake MattamuskeetReflections along boardwalkThose same reflections when you make a wave in the waterPungo sunsetMarbled Salamander under a log (okay, I can’t help but look for wildlife, I admit). I am not sure what is wrong with its hind leg, it looks very swollen.
It is a wholesome and necessary thing for us to turn again to the earth and in the contemplation of her beauties to know of wonder and humility.
~Rachel Carson
I had two groups scheduled for trips over the last week, one a group of photographers, and one some friends from my museum world. The weather for the first group did not look great, but they all decided to roll the dice and give it a try. And I am glad they did, as there were some beautiful photographs taken and some wild scenes observed. The second group had much better weather, but it turned windy and much colder, which is often a good thing in terms of wildlife activity. Birds were abundant, with an estimated 40,000+ Snow Geese now on the Pungo Unit of Pocosin Lakes NWR.
Snow Geese against a gray sky (click on photos to enlarge)
The flocks are still being a little antsy, with the main flock circling the fields for quite some time before settling, and various groups breaking up and peeling off from the main aggregation. When they do swarm as a flock, they are truly magnificent to see, and hear. On the first morning with a group, we were treated to a bear wandering through the flock of Snow Geese in the field, causing a commotion as the birds parted to allow the bruin to pass (unfortunately, I had not carried my camera due to impending rain). I answered a question from one of the group about where these birds had migrated from by showing them an image on my phone of a certificate I just received from my report of a Snow Goose collar (as related in an earlier post). The two collared birds both had been caught and tagged in Nunavut, Canada, above the Arctic Circle. That is almost due north of their wintering grounds at Pungo Lake, and a distance of about 2600 miles.
Certificate from collared Snow Goose report
One thing that really surprised me was the age of one of the birds (MXO7) who was at least 11 years old. Assuming this Snow Goose has made this same trip, back and forth each year, it has flown at least 52,000 miles in its 11 years…that’s a lot of wing beats.
Snow Geese circling over corn field in early morning light
Over the next few days, we saw the flocks in the same fields, coming out in the morning early, feeding for a couple of hours, returning to the lake to rest, and repeating the pattern late in the afternoon.
Snow Geese just after blast off
As we walked along the path, the entire flock would occasionally blast off with a loud cacophony of calls and circle noisily before returning to feed.
A Bald Eagle fly-by will almost always cause the flock to blast off
If you look closely, the usual cause for these nervous lift-offs is a passing Bald Eagle, like the immature eagle in the photo above.. I imagine the eagles are testing the flock as they cruise over, looking for weak birds, or something that might cue them in on an easy meal.
Snow Goose (left) and Ross’s Goose, flying next to each other
My new game when the birds fly over is to try to pick out a smaller Ross’s Goose out of the flock of Snow Geese as they pass overhead. It is obviously much easier once the flock has stretched out in lines, rather than when they are tightly packed together.
The spectacle of the Snow Geese flying overhead is one of the reasons I love this place. While my groups were able to experience it in various ways, I had an absolutely amazing experience Sunday evening between leading trips. It was a beautiful evening and I was walking back toward the gate. My friend, Rick, was at the gate, along with a first-time visitor to Pungo, Sydney. The birds came into the field as I walked, so I stopped, then turned and walked back some distance to where I thought they might fly over on their way back to the lake. And I waited…
They did as I had hoped, taking off in one giant swoop, and spreading out over the pink-tinged sky, making an incredible sound as they winged their way to the safety of the dark waters just beyond the trees. Sydney had walked out toward me just before the bird’s departure. It was an a truly spectacular introduction to the wonders of Pungo on her first visit.
There were many other bird highlights in my 6 days at the two refuges, many not recorded by my camera, but indelibly etched in my memory. Of the latter, there was a Peregrine Falcon streaking by the corn field; a Merlin accelerating across s the tops of the corn resulting in an explosion of Red-winged Blackbirds, but no kill this time; and the high-pitched shriek of a Wood Duck as it dipped and ripped through the treetops with a raptor of some sort (probably a Peregrine or a Cooper’s Hawk) in hot pursuit.
Trumpeter Swan at MattamuskeetTundra Swan head for comparison
At Mattamuskeet, there have been reports of a few Trumpeter Swans hanging out along Wildlife Drive. On my scouting trip the first day, I came across a group that I think were the Trumpeters – slightly larger, no yellow on the bill (although that can vary on Tundra Swans), and a longer, and more sloping bill. They also apparently curl their necks into more of an S-shape and rest it on their body when in a sitting or resting position.
Juvenile swan
There were a couple of juvenile swans nearby that I think were also Trumpeters as they had darker heads than most of the immature Tundra Swans I see.
A few other highlights of a great trip to two of my favorite places…I can’t wait to go back.
A good way to end a trip – 5 Black Bears between you and your carCattle Egret along the causeway at MattamuskeetBald Eagle flying across a roadside field with a small rabbitForster’s Tern at MattamuskeetBeautiful sunset at Pungo
For hibernating rodent and hidden turtle, what dreams, I wonder, come on such a day of spring in January?
~Edwin Way Teale
I just returned from several days down at Pocosin Lakes and Mattamuskeet National Wildlife Refuges. The weather started off beautiful, then wet and warm, then cold and windy – quite a variety of conditions in a 6-day span. The trend thus far this winter has been for unusually warm conditions which has lead to some strange wildlife sightings. I reported in an earlier blog on the butterflies we saw on the Christmas Bird Count, and the still active mosquitoes and biting flies. This past Sunday set a new personal record for strange winter wildlife sightings in North Carolina – a 4 species-of-snake-day in January. I have seen a few snakes out in December and January over the years (mostly Rough Green Snakes at Pungo), but never 4 species in one day.
Snakes generally seek sheltered locations when cold weather strikes, but can be seen out, even in winter, when temperatures warm to around 60 degrees Fahrenheit, or more. Last week had a string of warm days, with daytime highs reaching the mid-60’s on Saturday and Sunday. I had a group of photographers and we heard a few frogs calling as we walked around on Saturday, which was rainy and mild. Melissa was down at Pungo with a group of teachers and texted me about an amazing observation. She had walked up to a tree with a hollow base to investigate what looked like some digging at the entrance to the hole. When she looked inside, she saw what appeared to be a large snake, perhaps a Canebrake Rattlesnake, Crotalus horridus. I called her that evening and quizzed her on its location. The next day, I walked my group down the trail to where Melissa had described the tree. As I approached what I thought was the tree, I was at first disappointed, as I did not see a snake.
Canebrake Rattlesnake on tree trunk (click photos to enlarge)
But, then, I noticed something on the side of the trunk – a snake’s tail! I glanced around the trunk and there it was, a huge, beautiful rattlesnake, wedged between some vines about two feet off the ground. Needless to say, I was excited, and members of my group that had stayed on that morning were provided with a rare opportunity to photograph a winter snake. Little did I realize then that the day held many more reptile surprises.
Water Snake along the boardwalk at Goose Creek
After our walk at Pungo, we headed over to Goose Creek State Park for our final outing of the weekend. As we walked the long boardwalk behind the Visitor Center, one of the folks in the group called out…”snake”. Lying on a clump at the base of a larger tree was a water snake. At first glance, I thought it might be a Red-bellied Water Snake, Nerodia erythrogaster, due to the colors on its head and general lack of dorsal markings.
Water Snake close up
The more I looked, I thought maybe it was a Banded Water Snake, Nerodia fasciata, which can be rather dark on its dorsal surface, but can retain faint bands, like this one appeared to have. They usually have a diagnostic dark stripe from the eye to the back of the jaw line, and this one might have that, although it is hard to see. So, not quite sure, but snake species #2 for the day, nonetheless.
Someone spotted a Spotted Turtle
A few feet beyond the snake, someone glimpsed a Spotted Turtle, Clemmys guttata, basking on a log. These beautiful turtles are more active in the spring, although it is not uncommon to see them on warm winter days.
The wind started picking up and the temperature seemed to be dropping as we drove out of the park.Not far beyond the park entrance, I saw a car stopped in the oncoming lane, flashers on. The driver was out of the car and I noticed a large, orange-ish snake right in front of the stopped vehicle. It was a Corn Snake, Elaphe guttata. The driver picked up a flat piece of wood along the road and was undoubtedly headed back to shoo the snake out of harm’s way. A good deed, indeed. But for the Sheriff’s car behind us, I would have stopped for a closer look and a photo. Species #3!
After everyone headed for home, I went back over to the Pungo Unit in hopes of getting some better photos of the rattlesnake, and seeing the Snow Geese in sunlight instead of gray skies like the previous couple of days. When I reached the tree with the hollow base, the snake was nowhere to be seen. That causes you to be extra cautious I might add….where did it go?
Rough Green Snake climbing a tree
I walked a little farther, and saw a slight movement – snake species #4 for the day, a Rough Green Snake, Opheodrys aestivus. It was on the ground when I first saw it, but quickly moved to a tree trunk and began to climb.
Rough Green Snake, flicking its tongue
I soon walked on, carefully scanning the dried leaves ahead of me for signs of a snake, while still trying to look ahead for wildlife, such as bears, and overhead for eagles and other birds. It was, needless to say, a slow pace. I found myself shining my small flashlight (I always carry one) into every tree hollow and open base, looking for more snakes.
I woke this little guy up from his nap
One of the last trees I checked had a narrow opening just above the ground. When I leaned over and turned on my light, I was surprised (as was he) to see a sleepy Racoon roll over and look up at me. I guess I’ll be checking more hollow trees in the future. I’ll share more of what happened later that afternoon in another post (it was spectacular).
The next morning I returned to Pungo while waiting on my next group to arrive from Raleigh. Overnight temperatures had dropped to 30 degrees Fahrenheit, much colder than the previous couple of days. I walked down and entered the woods again, hoping to see bears or other animals that might be active on a chilly morning. As I walked by the rattlesnake tree, I couldn’t help but check it one last time…
Canebrake Rattlesnake curled up deep in tree trunk
First glance, nothing. But shining my light into the back of the recess, I saw the snake curled up, probably close to where Melissa had first seen it two days before. Amazing! I figured it would stay put since it was so cold, so I brought my group back several hours later. After having built up the fact that we would see an amazing winter surprise, I was, indeed, surprised when I looked back into the hollow – no snake. Lesson learned…you can’t get cocky when dealing with nature’s critters and their behavior. They are on their own schedule, and do things that constantly mystify and amaze me. Where had it gone? I thought I could see most of the area inside the hollow, but maybe there is a hole in there that the snake crawls into, which would be a much better insulator that lying up on the ground. Maybe that is where it had gone the afternoon before when I came back looking for it and couldn’t find it. But, whatever the case, the entire experience was incredible, and I am happy I could share at least parts of it with others. Pungo never disappoints.
What appeals to us most in this daring little falcon is its lightness and quickness.
~Winsor Marrett Tyler
A friend told me about a pair of American Kestrels hanging out in a particular field in Raleigh. I had to run into town for an errand the other day and decided to run by the field to see if I could spot one or both. It was late in the afternoon so I only had a short while before I needed to head back to beat the “big city” traffic that I now try to avoid whenever I can.
An American Kestrel poised on a wire, a favorite perch (click photos to enlarge)
I didn’t see it at first, but then there it was, off on a wire (one of their favorite places to perch) that stretched out across a field. Luckily, there was a dirt road that roughly paralleled the wire, so I drove down for a better look.
An intense eye and a tightly hooked beak make for a formidable predator of small prey
This appeared to be a female American Kestrel, since it lacked the slate-blue wings of an adult male. These fierce little falcons (our smallest falcon), are more abundant in the Piedmont of North Carolina in the winter, where they hunt for small prey such as large insects, and small birds and mammals.
Kestrels seem to be always on alert, looking below for anything edible
A couple of quick shots was all I could manage before the tiny fighter jet lifted off and flew down over the field as if it had spotted something tasty. An abrupt turn and she flew back up to the wire, but farther out in the field. Just like the bird, my view was light and quick. But I will be back soon, I hope.
Roads End Naturalist 