Weather changes quickly this time of year. When venturing out, we need to be prepared. Imagine if you live out in it all winter. While snow is relatively rare in our eastern wildlife refuges, ice is common. A sudden drop in temperature on a still January night can lead to quick freezes in all the puddles, ditches and other waterways.
Ice formed overnight in puddles and the edges of open water (click photos to enlarge)
Such was the case last week at the Pungo Unit when an overnight cold snap turned what had been a wet field full of hungry Wilson’s Snipe and Killdeer the previous afternoon, into a skating rink the next morning.
Wilson’s Snipe are difficult to see in grassy areas
The day before I had counted 18 Wilson’s Snipe in this flooded portion of an old soybean field. The next morning, the pool was frozen and, at first, I didn’t see a singe bird. Then, as I opened the car door, a snipe stood up and ran. So, I got back in the car and waited.
Wilson’s Snipe hidden in grass
Soon, I started seeing lots of lumps in the grass – snipe lumps. The key was to look for dark clumps of “grass” and then check them out with binoculars. Most turned out to be Wilson’s Snipe, apparently waiting for a little warmth before venturing out to feed.
A cautious Wilson’s Snipe ventures out onto the frozen puddle
I watched the first snipe approach the ice rink. It moved out across the frozen surface slowly, much more slowly than their usual walking pace.
Wilson’s Snipe slipping on ice
The first few steps were almost graceful. But that quickly turned comical as almost every snipe that attempted to cross the ice found itself slip-sliding away. There was usually a quick wing assist to try to stay upright. A few even abandoned the attempt altogether and flew over the ice to the grassy area on the other side.
The snipe slip and squat pose
One bird did a butt flop on the ice with both legs shooting out in opposite directions.
Better to sit in the grass than try to skate on a frozen puddle
When that bird finally made it across, it seemed to express the embarrassment for itself and the rest of its clan with a slight look of disgust, or maybe it was contemplating another use for that long bill besides just probing the mud for worms.
A Tundra Swan stands on the frozen edge of the impoundment
After several good laughs, I drove over to the impoundment that has been so productive this season for swan watching. Most of the water was open out in the middle of the impoundment, but I noticed some swans along the edge that seemed to be standing.
No problems walking on ice
I moved to an open spot with a good view and could see several Tundra Swans were gingerly walking on the skim of ice along the marsh edge. Their broad webbed feet have distinctive claws at the the tips of each toe. Perhaps this combination provides greater surface area contact with the slippery substrate and allows the seemingly always elegant Tundra Swan to walk gracefully atop the ice.
Check this out, Mr. Snipe
As if to reinforce their one-upmanship of the snipe in their ice skating abilities, one swan performed a regal wing flap at the conclusion of a short session of preening, leaving no doubt which species would receive the higher score in the marsh bird ice capades.
Tundra Swan elegance
And, if there was any doubt of who is the most graceful and artistic of the birds of Pungo, a lone swan flew by the rising moon that afternoon, reminding me one more time of why these beautiful animals are my favorite bird of winter.
When I saw this quote, I said, yup, they nailed it. On almost any day from mid-December through early February, you have a good chance of seeing large flocks of Snow Geese as they fly to and from various roosting areas (usually Pungo Lake) and the fields where they feed. But what you want is to be standing next to the field they choose to land in, especially after sunrise or close to sunset. Then you have a chance to experience what I call, The Show.
Snow Geese flying high overhead (click photos to enlarge)
Last weekend I had two groups, one in the rain and clouds on Saturday, and one on a beautiful sunny day on Sunday. It truly was weather fit for ducks on Saturday, and, true to its name, the birds were very active all day. Based on the number of gunshots heard just off the refuge, the local hunters were having a good day as well. The Snow Geese came in to a field later than usual that morning and stayed a long time before heading back to the lake. Sunday was very different – after an early morning departure, the Snow Geese returned after about an hour and spent much of the day on the lake.
Tundra Swans in corn field
The swans, meanwhile, took their time getting out to the fields to feed, and by late afternoon when we returned from Mattamuskeet, there were a few thousand Tundra Swans in some corn fields near one of the refuge roads. This is always a good sign. Snow Geese seem to like to land in fields where there are a lot of swans feeding, but this was not the field they had been in the evening before. It has been a little harder this year to predict where The Show will be as the fickle Snow Geese have been splitting up in smaller flocks and moving around a lot more than in years past. But, as we watched the swans, I saw the thin, wavy lines of Snow Geese on the horizon. So, we waited. After circling a bit over the lake, it looked as though they were headed our way.
Snow Geese coming into field at sunset
As we watched, the leading edge of the flock streamed our way and started to circle the field, the late afternoon light casting a golden glow on the underside of the birds. Looking back at the horizon, I could see thousands of Snow Geese headed our way, and we seemed to be in just the right place….let The Show begin.
The sights and sounds change as the birds swirl down into the fieldThe flock continued to swirl around us in the golden light
For the next 30 minutes, we stood there, mesmerized by thousands of birds flying around us and feeding in the field right next to the road. Every now and then a car would drive by, pushing the birds farther back into the field or causing large numbers to lift off and circle over us again before settling back down to their dinner of corn kernels.
Can you spot the Ross’s Goose in the flock?
I wanted the group to see some of the smaller Ross’s Geese and we soon found several on the front edge of the flock in the field next to us. We also tried to spot their smaller size in the birds flying low over our heads. Look at the photo above (best to click on it and enlarge) and see if you can find at least one Ross’s Goose – it is smaller in size, lacking the “black grin lines” found on a Snow Goose bill, and has a shorter, stubbier bill.
The flock finally blasted off to fly back to the lake for the night
As darkness approached, small groups of Snow Geese began to head back to the lake along with an increasingly steady stream of swans. Finally, a car came by with its headlights on, and the rest of the Snow Geese blasted off in a blur of wings. It had been a phenomenal afternoon and The Show had been superb, with thousands of birds right on top of us. There really is nothing else like it anywhere in our region. The Snow Geese should be around a couple of more weeks before they start their long migration back to their breeding areas. One Snow Goose we reported this year had a neck collar with the code TC84. We heard back from a USFWS biologist that it was banded on its breeding area on 8/15/2011 at the South Plain of Bylot Island, Nunavut, Canada…a long way from this corn field in eastern North Carolina.
I have tours this weekend and have some availability next weekend. Contact me if you are interested in trying to get seats to The Show before the curtain closes for this year. As Chris Early writes in his excellent field guide, Waterfowl of Eastern North America…
Hundreds of these geese flying together really convey why their name is so appropriate – they look like a flurry of snowflakes. But they’re very noisy snowflakes; the sound that these flocks make is an experience in itself. A huge flight of Snow Geese is something that everyone should see (and hear) at least once in their lifetime.
…for many of us the world would be a poorer place without bears. We keep bears because they are a part of nature and because of what they do for the human mind, body, and soul.
~Steve Herrero
Young Black Bear in large Bald Cypress tree (click photos to enlarge)
I have seen several bears in trees this winter, even a couple with my groups, which is always a thrill. A couple of weeks ago, I went down to Pocosin Lakes NWR the day before one of my tours and just spent some time wandering and looking. It was a beautiful afternoon and much of the wildlife seemed to be taking it easy, and even I was contemplating a nap in the sun. As I walked, I just happened to look up and I discovered a young Black Bear about forty feet up in a Bald Cypress tree. The bear’s silhouette was hidden from view as I approached the tree and without a glance over my shoulder, I might have missed it. Makes me wonder how many I have walked by in the past.
The bear turned and looked down at me
I walked around the tree to get some better light on the bear and it turned and looked down at me.
We watched each other for several minutes. I was intent on watching every movement it made, but the bear took its eyes off me frequently to look around and occasionally groom itself.
Bears have short, curved claws for climbing
The bear then decided to climb a bit higher. Black Bears have curved claws about two inches long which allow them to easily climb trees. Their stocky stature and incredible strength also aid their climbing skills.
Bear checking on my position after climbing to a large limb
The bear seemed more comfortable on the larger limb, and, after checking on my whereabouts, sat down against the trunk and soaked in some of that warm afternoon sun.
Relaxing in the sun
I envy the bear the view from up there. I imagine it must be fun to be in the trees with the birds. This young bear (I am guessing it was less than 100 pounds) may have climbed for a degree of protection from some of the larger bears (and humans) in the area, or it may just be nice to have that penthouse view.
Making its way down the trunk
Finally, after about fifteen minutes, the young bear decided to head down the trunk. It went around to the back side of the tree and began its descent. I stayed where I was so as to not spook it.
Sniffing the air from the base of the treeA parting glance
Once on the ground, the bear came around the trunk, sniffing the air, sizing up the surroundings. It gave me one glance, and then slowly turned and ambled off into the woods. I watched it through the thick vegetation for a few minutes as it nosed the ground, occasionally digging in the soft earth, and then disappeared into a wall of River Cane, tree saplings, and vines. I’m not sure what impact I had on the bear in the time we spent together, but I know it left a lasting impression on me.
…this harsh sound softened and modulated by distance, and issuing from the immense void above, assumes a supernatural character of tone and impression, that excites, the first time heard, a strangely peculiar feeling.
~Dr. Sharpless, 1844, on the sound made by Tundra Swans during flight
Tundra Swan calling as it flies out of Pungo Lake (click photos to enlarge)
It is a magical sound, that first haunting note of a Tundra Swan each season. This year, I heard my first call on a November trip down to Pocosin Lakes National Wildlife Refuge. In subsequent trips, I have listened to it countless times, always a mesmerizing call – often a soft honking sound, reminiscent of the baying of hounds in the distance.
Other sounds include a mellow hoot, with an occasional squeak or a whistle thrown in for good measure.
Swans flying in tight formation against a gray sky
And then there is the sound of the wings overhead, one of my favorite swan sounds.
Swans must run across the water to take off
If you are reasonably close, you can also hear the slapping sound made by their huge webbed feet as they they run across the water to take off.
Swan coming in with landing gear downSwans ready for touch downThe gentle splash as a Tundra Swan lands
You have to be much closer to hear the gentle, prolonged splash as these graceful birds come in for a landing.
Tundra Swans feeding in a corn field on the refuge
The season of the swan is a magical time in Eastern North Carolina. Tundra Swans occur in two population groups, a western population (WP) and an eastern one (EP). The EP is estimated to be about 107,000 birds as of mid-winter, 2013 (the WP is lower at about 75,000 birds). An estimated 70-80% of the EP overwinter in North Carolina, making the refuges and fields of eastern North Carolina a critical habitat for a large portion of the Tundra Swans in the world.
Swans bunched together in corn field
When I am leading groups to view swans, we often see other groups that are hunting swans. North Carolina is one of eight states that allow swan hunting. Swan meat is supposedly good to eat, and Dr. Sharpless commented that if less than six years old swans are very tender and delicious eating. Federal rules dictate that states limit the number of permits issued and generally limit the annual harvest to one bird per permittee. In our state, 5000 permits are issued each winter, by far the most of any other state. In a typical winter, about half result in a kill. A quick check online revealed prices of about $400 to $450 per hunter per day for a swan hunt in eastern NC, which obviously brings income into this area. And, of course, there is the income brought in by ecotourism – bird watchers, wildlife watchers, and others that just want to get out and enjoy the sights and sounds of the winter wildlife.
A sunset cloud of dust created by wind and the presence of thousands of feeding Tundra Swans and Snow Geese
Our group was interviewed this past weekend by a graduate student looking at possible economic impacts to the region due to the presence of large numbers of swans each winter. I know that the hotel we stay at in Plymouth is often crowded on weekends with a combination of swan hunters and swan watchers, so there must be a considerable impact on local economies to the presence of so many wintering birds in this region.
Tundra Swan adults and young
Tundra Swans are often seen in family groups on the wintering grounds. Adults are all white (although they sometimes have rust-colored stains on their head and upper necks from the ferrous minerals in the soils where they feed). Immature birds are dirty white or grayish, especially on the head and neck, and often have a pinkish bill. These juveniles will be all white by the time they come back next winter.
On an earlier trip this year we observed a swan sporting a different color – a neck collar similar to the ones I had assisted the refuge in putting on birds they banded several years ago. This one also had what appeared to be a microwave transmitter on the collar which would have provided even more information on the movements of this particular bird, T311. The advantage of neck collars is that observers can report the whereabouts of a collared bird using just binoculars or a spotting scope, whereas to get data from the traditional leg bands requires that the bird be in hand, usually as the result of being shot in a hunt. After turning in the observation of T311 to a USFWS biologist in the region, the preliminary information indicates that this number series corresponds to birds that were collared on their nesting grounds on the North Slope of Alaska in 2006. I hope to get more definitive information on this bird soon.
Tundra Swan getting a drink of water
In between groups on a recent trip, I spent some quality time observing swans in one of the impoundments at the Pungo Unit of Pocosin Lakes National Wildlife Refuge. This area has contained many swans this winter and they seem to tolerate cars stopping to observe and photograph them.
With more than 25,000 feathers on a swan’s body, it makes sense that these birds spend a lot of time each day preening. One of my favorite scenes is when the shadow of one bird is cast upon the body of another bird.
Swan flapping after preening
After a good bout of preening, a swan will often raise up and flap its wings a couple of times as if to get all those feathers in working order again. Late afternoon is a great time to watch and photograph swans as they are relaxed and the low angle light starts getting that golden hue that makes these majestic birds even more beautiful.
Swan in flightSwan gaining altitude after take-off
The flight of Tundra Swans is a magical thing to witness. Their long necks and strong wing beats on a wing span of almost 6 feet gives them an appearance of grace and power. Average flight speeds are in the neighborhood of 30 mph. This serves them well on their incredibly long migrations between their breeding grounds on the tundra of western Canada and Alaska to their wintering grounds here in North Carolina, a distance of over 3500 miles. Satellite tracking has shown that although they could fly that distance in a little over 100 hours straight, it actually takes much longer since they use so-called staging areas along the route as they migrate to feed and rest. The spring migration is usually longer than the fall one, lasting about 100 days. In a typical year, Tundra Swans spend about 20% of the year on the wintering grounds, 29% on the breeding grounds, and the rest in migration on the staging areas (with spring migration lasting longer than fall). This shows how important it is to identify and protect all components of a migratory bird’s habitats throughout its annual cycle.
In a little over a month, the Tundra Swans and most of the other waterfowl will be headed north to their breeding grounds. The refuges in eastern North Carolina will seem silent and empty, although they are really anything but, since a new set of migrants will arrive to breed and raise their young along with all of our resident wildlife. But I will still look forward to next year, when there is a chill in the air and a sound I love that will signal the beginning of a new season of the swan.
I go to nature to be soothed and healed, and to have my senses put in order.
~John Burroughs
It has been a great winter of experiences in nature. I have had the pleasure of sharing many special sights and sounds with a number of special people, as well as having moments of solitude in the presence of incredible beauty and awe. Friday evening was one of those special moments, with two of us going to the refuge a day early to prepare for a trip with a wonderful group of educators the next day. The birds continue their elusive and somewhat unpredictable ways but we found them and managed to place ourselves in their path back to the safety of Pungo Lake as the sunlight faded. I only had the iPhone out, and it did an adequate job of trying to share the moment, in spite of my crooked horizon:)
I just let it run while my senses tried to take it all in as they were put in order.
Plans to protect air and water, wilderness and wildlife, are, in fact, plans to protect man.
If alarmed it squats for concealment…;the longitudinal stripes on its back and head so closely resemble prostrate stems of dead grass that the bird is difficult to distinguish.
~Arthur Cleveland Bent, 1927
People often react with a bit of disbelief when I mention seeking snipe. After all, many have heard of the proverbial prank called a snipe hunt, wherein an unsuspecting city slicker is told to go out into the woods at night holding a bag with which to capture snipe, and is left there all night by the local folks. So, when I try to find a snipe for people, they are often surprised that there really is such a bird. Ours is now called the Wilson’s Snipe, Gallinago delicata. This widespread shorebird has undergone some common name changes from Wilson’s Snipe to Common Snipe, and now back to Wilson’s. They are a common winter resident in much of the Coastal Plain (and portions of the rest of our state), but are often a difficult bird for the average birder to spot, due to their habitat and camouflaged feather pattern.
Snipe habitat – a wet field at Pungo (click photos to enlarge)
Snipe prefer wet areas like marsh edges, roadside ditches, and wet puddles in farm fields. When alarmed or sitting tight, they can be very difficult to spot.
A Wilson’s Snipe can be difficult to see in a field or along a wetland edge
In fact, when I stop at a likely-looking spot and tell folks to look for snipe, I suggest they look for something that looks like a clump of grass stems with a long bill.
Snipe are well camouflaged and have an extraordinarily long bill
Indeed, a very long bill, measuring about one fourth the bird’s body length. They use this bill to probe for worms and other invertebrates in the soft ground and mud at wetland edges. Their feeding motion resembles that of a sewing machine in its rapid up and down movement, with their head often going into the water almost up to their eyes before pulling back up. They seem to feed for long periods of time without pulling their beak out of the substrate, leading some observers to wonder how they are swallowing their food. It appears that they move the prey up the backward-projecting serrations on the inside of the bill with their tongue and are thus able to swallow while the bill is still in the muck.
A short video clip shows this feeding behavior.
American Robin feeding in field
There were about six snipe feeding in this field puddle, along with a couple of Killdeer, and several American Robins.The low afternoon light enhanced the rust colors of the robins, making them, and the light-colored Killdeer, the most obvious birds in front of my camera when a car pulled up behind me. I can only imagine what the driver was thinking as he studied me taking pictures of such common species. I am also betting they may have totally missed my primary quarry, camouflaged amongst the soybean stubble.
Snipe threat display
At one point, one of the snipe rushed another to perhaps move it form a prime feeding spot. The bird that was rushed, squatted, and erected its tail, displaying a prominent tail spot. This may be some sort of aggressive display, and it is the first time I have ever seen that distinctive feather spot.
Wilson’s Snipe and its reflection while feeding in shallow water
One reference stated that the Blackfoot Indians had a name for this bird which meant, shadow in the water, supposedly because snipe often stand in the water and admire their own reflection. Well, I know I admired it when they managed to get into the shallow puddles, but I think they were too busy probing the mud for worms.
Wilson’s Snipe from behind, showing the long bill
As it turns out, people really do hunt snipe. The daily bag limit for Wilson’s Snipe in North Carolina this year is eight birds. The season runs until the end of February. This is a far cry from the days recorded by A.C. Bent. He reported on the exploits of one particularly notorious snipe hunter, a Mr. James Pringle. He supposedly set a one day record of 366 snipe in December of 1867. He is alleged to have shot 69,087 snipe in a twenty year period from 1867 to 1887. It is no wonder that their numbers decreased during that time. And Mr. Pringle was not a market hunter, but, instead gave the birds to friends. In the days of market hunting, the most skilled hunters would often bring many birds to market earning the name “sniper” as a badge of honor for the difficulty in shooting this elusive bird. The term has evolved to now mean a skilled shooter, but one with a very different target.
Sunshine is delicious, rain is refreshing, wind braces us up, snow is exhilarating; there is really no such thing as bad weather, only different kinds of good weather.
~John Ruskin
My group last weekend certainly experienced most of these types of weather, something not that uncommon on an eastern North Carolina winter outing. I always fret about the weather for my groups, especially those interested in photography, but, I also know I can’t do anything about it. When we went down Thursday afternoon, it was beautiful, with an incredible sunset and sky full of Snow Geese. But, of course, the weather forecast for the weekend called for cold and rain, and then warming and rain, and even thunderstorms.
Sunrise at Pungo (click photos to enlarge)
Part of the group arrived Thursday night and we were out before sunrise on Friday, with what looked like an overcast sky as we headed over to the refuge. Arriving at the observation platform a few minutes before sunrise, we were greeted with a brief, but stunning display of light shining up under the cloud cover. It vanished in about ten minutes, and I thought that would be the last sun we would see for the weekend.
Bald Eagle and swans flying against a darkening morning sky
We spent the morning looking for birds and photo opportunities with an increasingly gray sky. A few breaks in the clouds made for an interesting backdrop for bird silhouettes, both in color, and black and white.
Tundra Swans flying against a dramatic sky
One of the impoundments has been full of swans much of the winter, so we lingered there watching them interact and listening to the swan music. Lots of birds were flying over us as they left the lake to head out to the fields. providing the group with plenty of practice shooting what one participant called BIF (birds in flight).
Take-off
With all the birds flying overhead, it soon prompted the swans we were watching on the water to join in, providing us with the challenge of capturing BTO (birds taking off). Waterfowl tend to take off into the wind, so, if you watch their behavior, you can often predict when they will make their move. Swans have to run across the water to gain enough speed for lift off. They often swim with the wind until they get to a place that provides a good runway of open water, then they will turn into the wind and start slowly swimming, often bobbing their heads. Then, they start running, slapping those large feet against the water, and flapping their 6 feet of wing span until they achieve lift-off.
Cypress tree in Lake Mattamuskeet
Throughout the day, the skies darkened, making the use of the long lenses more difficult. After lunch we drove over to Lake Mattamuskeet. The lake surface was glassy, mirroring the leaden sky. But the wildlife was sparse, so we headed to back to Pungo for sunset, hoping to see the flocks of Snow Geese coming into the fields for a late meal.
Tundra Swans packed into a corn field
At first, the fields contained only swans, lots of swans. I have rarely seen a flock of swans so densely packed as they were in one of the fields, heads up, necks bobbing, and squabbling with one another over the abundant corn lying on the field.
Snow Geese flying over field full of swans
Then the unmistakable sound of incoming geese, and soon the sky was filled with a swarm of birds circling over the swans, trying to find a place to land. It is still a spectacle, even without the glow of an orange sunset like the night before.
Swans on a gray morning
The next morning continued the graying trend of the previous day, and black and white images seemed like the best way to relate the mood of the refuge. But, it would turn out to be an eventful morning, in spite of the clouds and drizzle.
Bear day bed
The wet conditions made for very quiet woods-walking, so we headed into the trees, looking for signs of wildlife. And the signs were everywhere. We soon spotted a young bear, sitting against a large tree trunk. We all watched it, the bruin returning our gaze, until it finally stood up and ambled off into the thickets. We checked out its tree and found where it had been laying down. There was a nice pile of flattened, dry leaves where the bear had been laying, surrounded by wet leaves from the rain. There was also some chewing on the edges of a hollow leading under the base of the tree, as if the bear was trying to enlarge an access hole for an entryway. We continued on, noticing the abundance of bear and deer trails.
Black Bear sleeping in tree
We soon spotted other bears, and, then, something I had hoped for – a bear in a tree. This young bear seemed totally undisturbed by our small group of camera-pointing humans, as it occasionally glanced our way, in between short naps. We spent some quality time with this bear, before heading back to the cars. Once out of the woods, I could see that thick fog was beginning to roll in, making a sunset show of Snow Geese unlikely. I have been there one other time this year when the fog obscured the birds coming into the field, even though I could hear them swirling overhead. So, we headed over to nearby Lake Phelps, the second largest natural lake in the state, at a little over 16,000 acres.
Group on “the dock to nowhere” at Lake Phelps
In all my trips over the years to this lake, I have never experienced the silvery curtain we had that afternoon. The water surface was glassy, and everything seemed suspended in a gray sky. The group posed on what one dubbed “the dock to nowhere”. The grayness seemed to absorb everything, including sounds.
Silhouettes in the fogYoung Bald Cypress tree silhouettesGrasses in the grayness
It turned out to be a dramatic way to end our day – a colorless scene for the cameras and minds to record.
Surprise sunrise at Lake Mattamuskeet
I thought the next morning would be the same, but we headed out before sun-up to Mattamuskeet anyway, some in the group hoping for a shimmer of predawn light. Much to my surprise, the sky did not disappoint. We had ten minutes of a stunning sunrise before the clouds pulled the curtain down on the stage.
Swamp colors
The rains started early, at first a slow, spotty rain, then a few downpours to make me regret leaving my rain pants in my luggage. But, the ashen atmosphere enriched the colors, making the lichens and mosses on the trees pop in a way that is normally absent when sunlight paints the scene. The weather radar hinted at stronger rains headed our way, so we departed the refuge and headed west, hoping to get on the other side of what was looking like a strong storm front.
Swamp patterns on the boardwalk at Goose Creek State Park
Goose Creek State Park welcomed us with overcast skies, rapidly warming temperatures, and no serious rain. The boardwalk behind the Visitor Center is a favorite of mine, especially in spring and summer when the frogs, insects, and other small critters are so prominent. Much to our surprise, a Southern Leopard Frog greeted us within a few feet of entering the swamp. The reflections on this winter day were beautiful, allowing us to peer into another world, beneath the surface, while being suspended in the world above.
Turkey Tail fungus on fallen log
Like at Mattamuskeet, the gray skies and palpable humidity enhanced the palette of the swamp, augmenting the colors and making for an ethereal landscape.
Storm clouds along the Pamlico River
Once again, the clouds and approaching front did not dissuade the wildlife. We saw several species of woodpeckers and countless Yellow-rumped Warblers along the boardwalk, plus a total of five Bald Eagles soaring over the swamp and the Pamlico River, our last stop of the day. Weather radar again indicated an approaching front, this one with the potential for strong winds and heavy rain. We all agreed to head home, thankful for our time spent in the changing winter weather. If only it had snowed…
Snow Geese above Pungo Lake (click photos to enlarge)
I had a group tour the first few days of 2015, so I went down to Pungo on New Year’s Day to scout things out. It was a cold and beautiful afternoon. The usual groups of Tundra Swans dotted the fields and there were a few small flocks of the increasingly elusive Snow Geese flying to and fro. As the sun started getting low in the sky, I drove over to the south shore of Pungo Lake, hoping to catch the geese coming back in to roost for the evening. Instead, I spotted their characteristic undulating waves of birds flying high over the lake, as if headed out to the fields to feed. I jumped in the car and drove out toward the refuge entrance in case they were headed to the corn fields for a late snack.
Sunset view of Snow Geese flying over fields
When I arrived, most of the geese were feeding in a wheat field several hundred yards from my position. I could see a half dozen cars of folks close to the birds, but I wanted the geese against the orange sky, so I stayed put, on the far side of all the action.
Snow Geese against sunset sky
As the sun sank low in the sky, the geese continued to circle and land on the far side of the fields, giving me those silhouette images that I sought. Suddenly, the entire flock blasted off, presumably headed to the lake for the night. Instead, the mass of birds headed across the fields and swirled all around me, filling the sky with sound and the dark shadows of beating wings. Then, the entire flock landed in a corn field near the car.
The entire flock flew to the corn field adjacent to my car
The sound of that many birds feeding in a field next to you is unbelievable. It sounds like a giant machine of some sort, perhaps a huge industrial furnace. The flock, perhaps numbering 10,000 birds, moved through the corn like a feathered combine. I just sat and watched, in awe, at the spectacle of so many living things acting as one unified eating machine. Suddenly, as if one of the birds had realized it was getting late, the flock erupted from the field, turned, and headed toward the lake for the night. I stood there for a moment as the sound faded to the north. What a magical way to start a new year.
Snow Geese landing in field at Pocosin Lakes NWR (click photos to enlarge)
For me, I suppose that quote could be altered to, I can never have enough of winter wildlife in eastern North Carolina. Okay, not as poetic for sure, but true nonetheless. Why else would I (and 6 other bird nerds and friends) spend all day out in the brutally cold wind and mud at Pocosin Lakes National Wildlife Refuge? Well, another reason is that we were one team participating in the annual ritual known as the Pettigrew State Park Christmas Bird Count. I helped start this particular bird count about 30 years ago when I worked for the state park system and I have managed to attend almost every one since.
This year is the 115th for the National Audubon Society Christmas Bird Counts. The concept was born in 1900 when Frank Chapman, a noted ornithologist, and 26 other people went out and counted birds in 25 locations, mainly in the northeast United States. The idea was to offer an alternative to the practice of Christmas “side” hunts practiced at the time, where people would go out on Christmas Day and shoot as many birds (and often other wildlife) as they could, whether they had a use for them or not. Conservationists were concerned about this, and other practices, and the general decline in bird species, and thought the counts would be a good way to bring attention to the plight of birds. From those humble beginnings, the Christmas Bird Counts are now the longest-running citizen science program, with over 71,000 people participating in over 2,300 count circles in the Western Hemisphere. Data from these counts provides scientists with all sorts of useful information on population trends, range expansions over time, and other information on a wide range of bird species.
Looking for a Ross’s Goose amidst the thousands of Snow Geese
Participants try to identify and count all the birds within a chosen 15-mile diameter circle on a assigned day during the period from December 14 to January 5 each year. The Pettigrew Count is centered on the state park and includes surrounding farmlands and forests as well as a portion of the Pungo Unit of Pocosin Lakes NWR. Teams of volunteers go out before dawn and bird their portion of the count circle all day, keeping track of everything they see and can identify by sound. Obviously, we do not record every single bird that is actually in the count circle that day (especially in areas like the refuge, where portions are closed to public entry to protect the wildlife from disturbance), and there are challenges with estimating the numbers of large flocks, and in trying to not to count birds more than once. But, one of the benefits of having some of the same people do the count each year is that the results will be somewhat consistent, enough that trends in the data over time can be seen. This year, our team consisted of three beginning birders, two experienced birders that had been on this count many times, and two young, enthusiastic, and knowledgeable birders that had never been on this particular count.
Snow Geese blasting off from field
One of our highlights on this count is the huge numbers of Snow Geese that roost on Pungo Lake and feed in nearby farm fields. The birds have been a little less predictable the past couple of years and they continued that trend this year, with the huge flock breaking up into smaller flocks and dispersing in varied directions during the day. We did find a flock of a couple of thousand feeding in the fields near the refuge entrance, and then began the sometimes long process of trying to pick out some Ross’s Geese from the flock. Ross’s Geese look like miniature Snow Geese, and can be tough to spot when there are thousands of their look-alike cousins in a field. But, with the gusty winds holding the birds up in the air longer as they landed and slowing down their flight, we were able to spot many of the smaller Ross’s Geese in in the air, and, in fact, got our highest number ever (23) for this portion of the count circle.
Immature Mute Swan (left) compared to adult Tundra Swan (right)
Other highlights included the first Cackling Geese (look like small Canada Geese) we have ever recorded on this portion of the count and an immature Mute Swan. The latter has been hanging out in one of the impoundments at Pungo for a few weeks. It is much larger than the usual Tundra Swans, and immature birds have a pink bill and lack the large knob on the bill that is diagnostic of adult Mute Swans. At first, I really wanted to make this bird an immature Trumpeter Swan, but I guess I will have to go with the consensus of it being a Mute.
Walking on a bear trail
Another highlight was walking through the woods looking for mixed species flocks, and traveling through the underbrush on a well-used bear trail. We did see seven bears along that trail, including two resting high up in trees (always a thrill to see). Added to those non-bird sightings were soaring Bald Eagles, a Cooper’s Hawk dive bombing some robins and a Wood Duck, the flash of a Merlin as it streaked overhead, and tens of thousands of Snow Geese coming into the lake at sunset, and you can see why the day was memorable, in spite of the bitter cold. One of the most memorable moments was when I asked the young birders (and these guys are both passionate and skilled) how they first got into birding. They both gave some of the credit to a trip I had helped lead to this very refuge when they were with the museum’s Junior Curator Program. They recalled walking down this same dirt road, seeing bears, and thousands of Snow Geese and Tundra Swans flying over, the vastness of the place, and the amazing sounds, as one of the things that inspired their passion. What a great way to start a new year…and to help me make a resolution to help get more people, especially young people, out into nature to discover their own passion.
December 30, 2014 data – Pungo Unit portion of annual Pettigrew State Park Christmas Bird Count (70 species for our team; 110 species for the total count circle):
The Fox of Carolina is gray…When hunted, they make a sorry Chace, because they run up Trees, when pursued.
~John Lawson, 1709
Gray Fox after waking up from a nap (click photos to enlarge)
On almost every visit to Mattamuskeet NWR these past few months, I have seen one or more Gray Foxes. I am guessing they had a den somewhere along Wildlife Drive and the adults, and their young, have stayed in that general vicinity all Summer and Fall. A few weeks ago, I was driving down the dirt road along the lake and my friend hollered, “fox”, as we drove right by one sleeping in the grass along the road. When I started to back up, it quickly got up and slipped into the thick brush (seems as though most wildlife does not like it when you back up your vehicle). As John Lawson pointed out oh-so-long-ago, Gray Foxes are the only canid in North America that can climb trees. I have seen that twice, once on the coast, where a fox was after some persimmons (a favorite Fall meal), and once on a teacher workshop at the Belize Zoo. It seems that Gray Foxes really are much more cat-like than other members of their dog clan, having semi-retractable claws, and short legs relative to their body size (ideal for climbing trees). Gray Foxes are often mistaken for Red Foxes, due to the reddish coloration that is so noticeable on portions of their body. An easy way to distinguish the two is that Gray Foxes have a dark stripe and dark tip on their tail, whereas Red Foxes have a white tail tip.
Gray Fox napping along road
On a more recent trip, I was telling my companion about the sleeping fox incident when I spotted a gray lump over in the grass on the opposite side of the road from where I had seen the fox a week before. This time, I stopped the vehicle ahead of the lump and checked it out. Sure enough, a Gray Fox napping…really napping, it turned out. We got out, hoping not to spook it. But, not to worry, it continued napping. I was surprised the fox was still hanging around this area since the annual duck hunt at Mattamuskeet had started earlier in the week and takes place at a series of blinds adjacent to this dirt road. I really thought the shotgun blasts would have spooked it from this area.
The fox finally looks up to check us out
We took a series of images, all with the fox laying there, eyes closed. It finally raised its head and gave us a look.
Gray Fox yawning
For the next several minutes, we stood there, watching the fox nap, raise its head, yawn, and then lay back down to nap again.
The fox finally raised up and looked around
After several minutes of standing there and waiting, the fox finally stood up, looked at us sleepily, and slowly walked away.
The fox finally walks away
I hated that we might have awakened the little guy, but was happy that we didn’t seem to upset it much by our presence. The fox stopped a few times, sniffing the ground, and perhaps grabbing something to snack on, as I had seen them do several times on previous visits to the refuge. Gray Foxes have an incredibly varied diet – everything from rabbits and mice to amphibians and insects, and lots of different types of fruits. Finally, the fox slipped into the thick underbrush, leaving us appreciative of our time spent with it. It is such a rare treat to be able to observe an animal going about its daily life, seemingly unconcerned by our presence. This is one more reason we should all be thankful for places like our wildlife refuges and parks, where there is adequate habitat and regulations that protect wildlife, so we can all have moments like this.
Roads End Naturalist 