The Blue-headed Vireo

In a few short months, the woods will be filled with the color and song of newly-arrived migrants: warblers, gnatcatchers, tanagers, and vireos, among others.  The Yellow-throated Vireo is one of our earliest migrants, and Red-eyed and White-eyed Vireos are some of the most numerous spring and summer forest birds, but even in the late days of winter there is a species of vireo living secretively in woods of the Southeast: the Blue-headed Vireo.

Blue-headed Vireos are hardy winter residents in the southern states.  They can be found in both upland and lowland habitats, in mixed or coniferous forests, where they feed on insects gleaned from bark, and also a few small fruits.  Like most vireos, they have a loud, scolding call, and their song is a series of short, whistled phrases.  Although they are usually silent in the winter, on warm days they can sometimes be heard singing.

The Blue-headed Vireo was originally grouped with two other species, the Plumbeous and Cassin’s Vireos—both of which occur in western North America—as one species, the Solitary Vireo.  It may be not be used anymore, but this name is still descriptive; outside of the breeding season, Blue-headed Vireos are rarely seen with other members of their species, preferring instead to forage with chickadees, titmice, warblers, and kinglets.  In fact, one of the best ways to locate one is to search through these flocks of small, jittery songbirds, until the slower, more deliberate movements of this reclusive bird catch your eye.

Once you find a Blue-headed Vireo, take the time to appreciate the colors of its plumage.  The namesake bluish-gray head contrasts with the bold white “spectacle” marks around the bird’s eyes.  The back is bright olive, and the wings have prominent yellowish wing bars.  The underparts are white, with yellow flanks.  The heavy, slightly hooked bill is very different from the thin, almost straight bills of the warblers and kinglets that the vireo feeds with.

This songbird arrives for the winter in October and departs for more northerly regions in mid-April.  Be sure to get out into the field to spot the colorful Blue-headed Vireo and other wintering songbirds this January!

Beach Sunset

I love walking on the beach near sunset, especially when the weather isn’t too warm.  The sand feels delightfully soft and cool, the clouds stretch across the sky in gorgeous pastel shades, and waves provide a relaxing soundtrack as they steadily lap the shoreline.

The seashore birds’ calls—some raucous, some guttural, and some piping—punctuate the sounds of the water and wind.  Black-bellied Plovers may look fairly drab in their winter plumage, but their plaintive, whistling notes are anything but dull.  These close relatives of the familiar, pasture-loving Killdeer remain on the Gulf Coast through the winter, but migrate north in the spring.  It amuses me that this bird doesn’t have a black belly at all during this time of year.

Black-bellied Plover at the shoreline

Like most egrets and herons, the Snowy Egret has a very unmelodious—even grating—call.  But few people would deny its elegance as it gracefully strides through the tide pools, hunting for small fish and invertebrates.  Although the water is a bit too cold for me, the Snowy Egret appears to pay it no mind.  Black legs ending in bright yellow feet are one of its identifying features.

Snowy Egret striding

While the egret moves off, the small, browinish Dunlin comes forward to prod the mud near the edge of the pool with its pointed beak.  The Dunlin is a common winter visitor and migrant on the Gulf Coast, and, on most beaches, only the grayish but equally small Sanderling outnumbers it.  These species may mingle with each other, but the Dunlin tends to feed in somewhat deeper water, as the slightly greater length of its bill would suggest.

Snowy Egret and Dunlin foraging

As I look up and slightly to the right, I see several more species of shorebirds, including Marbled Godwit, Willet, and Semipalmated Plover.  The larger individuals, such as the godwits and the willets, forage in the deeper water, while the smaller plovers and dunlins stay in the shallower sections.  The names godwit and willet may seem strange, but they were intended as transcriptions of the birds’ calls.  I hear neither of these species calling at the time, but the persistent chirps and whistles of the others more than make up for that.

Shorebirds foraging in the tide pools

The sun starts to drop below the horizon, signaling that it’s time for me to leave.  I will miss the sights, sounds, and sensations of the beach, and I hope that I can re-experience them soon.

Nature Viewing

The fall bird migration is starting to wind down in most places, but that doesn’t mean that there aren’t many birds to observe.  If you know where to look, you may find a wider variety of species than you would have guessed would be present.  Come along and see!

Cattle Egrets, ubiquitous in fields and pastures across the southeastern U.S. during the summer months, have mostly made their way south to the Gulf Coast, Florida, Mexico, and Central America.  However, you can still find some stragglers here and there, mainly around large bodies of water.  In the photo below, a small flock of Cattle Egrets congregate in a shrubby cypress tree at Bluff Lake.  In a month or so, they will most likely have departed for warmer territories where insects are abundant.

Cattle Egrets roosting at Noxubee National Wildife Refuge

Anhingas, the long-necked “snakebirds” of southern swamps, seem to be increasingly common on inland bodies of water during the winter months.  This may be due to climate change, but, regardless of the cause, checking for these birds in the field right now is well worth the effort.  Watch for their long, snake-like necks that they hold above the water as they swim, or scan the trees for perched birds that are busy airing out their wet wings.  These seemingly odd habits stem from the fact that Anhingas lack the oily plumage that provides ducks and geese with waterproofing and improved buoyancy.  Instead of bobbing on the surface, they dive for fish under the water.

Anhinga at Noxubee NWR

Another species that you can still find in some numbers on lakes and ponds is the Common Gallinule, a close relative of the abundant American Coot.  Gallinules tend to be slightly more secretive and retiring than coots, generally staying close to the shorelines or swimming among floating vegetation.  Their vividly-colored bills and the white streaks of feathers across their flanks make them easy to identify.  You can also listen for their loud, squawking calls carrying across the marsh.

Common Gallinules swimming at Noxubee NWR

Some birds that are usually common year-round, such as Eastern Phoebes, may still come as pleasant surprises in the field.  The ice storm of February 2021 killed many of the flying insects that phoebes, warblers, and certain other insectivorous bird species rely on for food, so some of these birds starved to death.  Phoebe numbers, in particular, seemed remarkably low this spring and summer.  Recently, though, I’ve noticed phoebes returning to areas from which they had apparently disappeared—an encouraging example of nature’s resilience.

Eastern Phoebe perched in cypress tree

These are all just my observations, though.  If you’re a birder, the most rewarding thing to do is to make your own discoveries in the field.  You never know what you might find!

"Fall" in Love with the Refuge

On a warm day in late October, well over a decade ago, my mom and I drove to the Noxubee Refuge to spend some time birding and just winding down from a busy week.  It was a beautiful day, although humid.  Of course, the humidity might have had an effect on us, but it seemed to have very little effect on the wildlife at the Noxubee National Wildlife Refuge--birds, mammals, butterflies.  

Butterflies were everywhere at Morgan Hill, our first stop.  The bright sunlight was drawing them out along the trail leading through the Black Belt prairie.  Most of the butterflies of the fall season are rusty-tinted, and these were no exception.  Gulf Fritillaries, bright orange with nearly three-inch wingspans, were very abundant.  Orange Sulphurs, less intense in color, were also common.  Angle-winged Question Marks and Commas showed up, also, along with a few Painted Ladys, Monarchs and one Red Admiral, dark brown with red-orange bars on its wings.  Cloudless Sulphurs brought touches of yellow to the scene.  They were not confined to the prairie, though; they had flitted in front of our vehicle as we had made our way down the road earlier.

Grasshoppers scattered as we walked, some of them unfurling delicate wings as colorful as some of the butterflies.  On the gravel-covered path, Buckeyes, little butterflies sporting peacock-like eyespots and red and white “paint” on their brown wings, were surprisingly numerous, and I saw one Variegated Fritillary.  Smaller than the Gulf Fritillary, this species has paler but more intricately patterned wings.  By looking closely at a small passionflower (also known as maypop) plant growing on the trail, I spotted two tiny Gulf Fritillary caterpillars.

Of course, there were birds to be seen in addition to the insects.  The sparrows had arrived in flocks, and Savannah, Swamp, Song, and White-throated Sparrows and Dark-eyed Juncos flew out of the grasses at every step we took.  Eastern Bluebirds eyed us from their perches atop the few small trees dotting the hill.  Zhip!  With a sharp call and a flick of its tail, an Eastern Phoebe joined them. 

When my mom and I arrived back at the parking area, a big Woolly Bear caterpillar lurched its way across the gravel and over to some leaf litter in the nearby thicket where it would be safe.  As we left the prairie, a female American Kestrel gave us a great show as it hovered over the field and then landed in a huge oak tree.  A group of eleven Wild Turkeys was foraging in the same area.

Next we headed to Goose Overlook for more watching.  The water was nice and clear at Bluff Lake, where the observation point is located.  It was a little early for ducks, but there were plenty of Canada Geese wading in the shallows.  Chickadees, titmice, woodpeckers and wrens chattered in the surrounding woods.  A flock of Yellow-rumped Warblers landed in a cypress tree, flicking their wings and scrambling over the branches for insects.  We were amused by these antics but soon decided to walk down Woodpecker Trail, a path cutting through areas of both pine and mixed woods.  There were lots of small birds and several small dusty-brown Carolina Satyr butterflies.  Our shoes and socks soon became spotted with clinging Beggar’s Lice from the many plants growing on the edges of the trail. 

After spending time at Goose Overlook, we headed back to Morgan Hill Prairie.  It didn’t take long for me to spot some species I hadn’t seen on the prairie earlier.  A small butterfly alighted on a twig, and from the orange, brown and white wings and long, beak-like extension of the head, it was evident that this was a Snout Butterfly.  Several birds suddenly flew up in front of us and landed in the small trees and shrubs—bluebirds, Savannah Sparrow, juncos—but there was something else:  a Palm Warbler.  This brown-streaked little bird with the yellow undertail was only a few feet away from us.  A small bright-green caterpillar was clasped in its bill, and at first it seemed that the bird would soon eat it.  But the caterpillar was still very much alive; and as we watched, it reached down and grabbed the branch that the warbler was perched on.  The bird jerked its head up, pulling the caterpillar off the branch, but the insect was not ready to give up.  Suspended from the warbler’s bill, it suddenly curled into a tight ball, and the bird dropped it.  Oops!  The bird was probably pretty upset about losing this meal, and it dived down into the shrub to search for it.  We didn’t hang around long enough to see what finally happened, but I can imagine the caterpillar crawling off with a great battle story to retell all of its short life.

It was time to head out of the refuge, so we left, reflecting that the relaxing yet entertaining day there had definitely been worth the bother of going.

The Field Sparrow: A Life History

The Field Sparrow (Spizella pusilla) is a small songbird in the family Emberizidae (Order Passeriformes) that occurs throughout most of eastern North America.  It is one of the relatively few sparrows that commonly breed in the Southeast. 

Field Sparrow in summer

Distinguishing characteristics of the Field Sparrow include a short, pink bill; white eye-rings; white outer tail feathers; and a plain, unmarked breast.  The species is found in a variety of old fields, woodland edges, fencerows, and agricultural areas.  It begins courtship and mating in early spring, with males chasing females and defending territory from other males.  Males maintain and defend their territories through physical altercations between males as well as by their song, which is a warbling trill.  In addition to this song, the Field Sparrow has several alarm and flight calls that are used in a variety of contexts. 

Field Sparrow in winter

Nest construction begins in late April and extends through mid-May.  The nest, which is placed at a height of 9-300 centimeters in vegetation, is built solely by the female, and is composed of grasses, roots, hair, and other fine materials woven into a cup shape.  The eggs have a cream or white ground color, are marked with spots in various shades of brown, and have a smooth surface.  There are usually two to five eggs laid in a brood, and the female incubates for approximately twelve days.  The mostly naked, altricial nestlings are fed in the nest by both male and female parents for a period of about seven to eight days. 

The most frequent foods offered to the nestlings include many insects in both the adult and nymph stages, and various species of spiders.  After the young birds fledge, the parents will care for them until they reach independence at about one month of age.  The adult diet consists mainly of seeds, but some insects are taken, too.  

The Field Sparrow is a widespread species, ranging from southeast and northwest Montana, central Minnesota, southern Ontario, southern Maine, and southern New Brunswick; south to northeast Colorado, western Oklahoma and Kansas, central Texas and northern Mexico, and through the Gulf Coast to central Florida.  Some populations of the Field Sparrow are migratory, although most are not.  In the northernmost regions of its range, it is present only during the breeding season, and in the southernmost regions (such as the Gulf Coast and much of Florida), it is present only as a winter resident.  Be on the lookout for Field Sparrows in grassland and forest-edge habitats as the summer wanes and the fall season approaches!

Source:

Best, L. B.  1977.  Nesting biology of the Field Sparrow.  Auk 94(2):308-319.

The Red-cockaded Woodpecker: A Life History

It occurs to me from time to time that I am privileged to live in an area where I can regularly see a federally Endangered bird species—the Red-cockaded Woodpecker—if I choose.  These woodpeckers have small colonies at several locations in and around Noxubee National Wildlife Refuge, and they are relatively easy to detect—all a birder has to do is listen carefully for the raspy, nasal calls in the refuge’s pine woods.  If one of these medium-sized, black-and-white woodpeckers comes into view, it can be distinguished from the far more common Downy and Hairy Woodpeckers by its white cheek patches and completely barred back.  (Downy and Hairy Woodpeckers, in contrast, have striped faces and white backs.)  Males of the species have red feathers—the “cockades”—on the sides of the crown, but, because these are tiny and seldom displayed, they are not a particularly important field mark.

Note the barred back and the white cheeks

This endangered woodpecker is restricted to open pine forests with sparse understories of palmettos, grasses, shrubs, and other plants.  The open nature of the habitat is a consequence of natural fires, which restrict understory growth and possibly leave younger trees more susceptible to Phellinus pini, or red heart, a fungal disease that damages the heartwood of infected pines.  The softened, diseased wood can then be more easily excavated by Red-cockaded Woodpeckers, which will dig cavities 5-50 feet high in living trees infected with red heart.  Many of these infected trees are well over 40 years in age.  The birds peck into the sapwood above and below the cavities that they create, which results in a flow of sap that deters predators (such as rat snakes) and other animals from accessing the roost or nest holes.

Open pine habitat in early spring

Like most woodpeckers, Red-cockaded woodpeckers make various vocalizations at the nest and during courtship and other encounters.  Drumming on trees—usually pines—is another common means of communication, as are wing-fluttering, open-winged displays, and crest-raising.  The spread-winged display is used to reinforce the pair bond between a male and female.  Eggs are laid from late April to early June in a pre-existing cavity, rather than one that is excavated specifically for a nest.  The eggs are white in color, and become stained with pine resin over the course of the incubation period.  The female of the pair lays one egg per day, with one to six eggs comprising a clutch.  Incubation, which lasts about ten days, is performed by both parents, with the male incubating overnight.  Both parents feed and tend the altricial, pink-skinned, featherless nestlings.  Although the young birds fledge after about 26-29 days, they are at least partially dependent on their parents for up to six months afterward.  The Red-cockaded Woodpecker’s propensity for living in loose colonies or family groups benefits it during the nesting period, as unmated “helper” birds may aid breeding pairs in feeding nestlings and fledglings.  Usually, a pair has only one brood per year.

A foraging Red-cockaded Woodpecker

Interestingly, male and female Red-cockaded Woodpeckers are somewhat segregated according to the types of feeding sites that they use, with males foraging on branches and high on the trunks of pines, and females preferring to forage at lower elevations and only on the trunks.  For this reason, I suspect that most of the Red-cockaded Woodpeckers that I have seen near the refuge’s Visitor Center have been females.  Both sexes eat mainly insects and other arthropods, including cerambycid beetles, larvae and grubs of various species, ants, and millipedes.  On occasion, they will also consume small fruits and seeds. 

Although the Red-cockaded Woodpecker is a fairly widespread species, it is patchily distributed due to its highly specialized niche.  It is considered an endangered species across its range, which extends from the southeastern Atlantic Coast to Oklahoma and Texas.  Habitat loss remains the most serious threat to these woodpeckers, so conservation efforts generally focus on preserving tracts of large pines and subjecting them to controlled burning to clear the understory layers.  Any birder or naturalist who is fortunate enough to live near one of the managed populations would do well to keep a sharp eye—and ear—out for these fascinating little woodpeckers during this summer and fall.

Source:

Ligon, J. D.  1970.  Behavior and breeding biology of the Red-cockaded Woodpecker.  Auk        87(2):255-278.

Fine Dining on the Gulf Coast

When I looked through my photos of Alabama birds from my springtime trip to the Gulf Coast, I thought that there was a pretty obvious theme running through most of them: food!  After all, birds eat a lot, and their efforts to find food provide birders with plenty of entertainment.

The Bald Eagle that I watched on the Ocean Springs beach may have been thwarted in its hunting attempts, but this Osprey that I saw the following day on the Alabama coast clearly hadn’t been.  It devoured its prey, a large fish, while perched in a tall slash pine.  In a way, it was lucky for the Osprey that it found this relatively secure site to enjoy its meal; Bald Eagles are known to chase after Ospreys and steal their catches.  This Osprey did appear slightly wary, but it still clung tightly to the fish that it had caught, as if it wondered if I might try to take it.

Osprey in pine -- warily looking back

Back to lunching

Such a gorgeous and impressive bird! 

Although large species like Ospreys and Eagles are the most obvious predatory birds in marshes and on beaches, some much smaller birds also make a good showing.  Boat-tailed Grackles, the coastal cousins of the abundant and familiar Common Grackles, are extremely opportunistic, feeding by preying on invertebrates and other small animals, scavenging dead creatures along the shore, and nabbing snack food from tourists.  I saw several of these large, glossy grackles strutting along the beach, mainly near the pier.

Female Boat-tailed Grackle

Male Boat-tailed Grackle with food

Male Boat-tailed Grackle

Gulls, obviously, are opportunistic, too, although sometimes this tendency is misdirected.  I spent several minutes observing a small group of gulls loitering in the drier sand, away from the waves.  Take a closer look at the immature Laughing Gull (the one without a dark hood) on the left side of the following photo.  It was attempting to eat a wrapper or some other piece of garbage that it had found on the beach. 

Laughing Gulls on the sand

The Laughing Gull eventually dropped the piece of trash, which was then picked up by a young Ring-billed Gull.  Notice the pattern?  Immature birds tend to be worse at hunting than adult birds.  It’s apparently a skill that they have to gain through experience.

Mine!

All mine.

Like the Laughing Gull, the Ring-billed Gull relinquished its “prey” and moved on. 

Gak!

In the flock of Laughing Gulls was a strange and sad sight: a gull missing part of its foot.  I had seen another disabled Laughing Gull in the same location a few years before, but that bird was missing the opposite foot.  Unfortunately, this is probably the indirect result of humans hunting for food on the beach.  Fishing line can get tangled around birds’ feet and cut off the circulation, and I suspect that this is what had happened to the two gulls.   

Injured Laughing Gull

 

A different injured Laughing Gull in 2018

This particular bird didn’t seem to be too perturbed by its handicap, but I’m sure that foraging was much harder for it as a result of the injury.

Preening with that leg would be difficult, too.

On a lighter note, anyone who has seen my other posts on coastal birds can probably identify the species in the next photo.  The large, brownish, chunky gull on the left is an immature Herring Gull; the small, brownish birds in the center are Sanderlings; the two pale gulls to the right of the Sanderlings are Ring-billed Gulls; and the larger flock of gulls on the right are Laughing Gulls.  Happy birding!

A mix of species on the beach

Herring Gull

Sanderlings

Ring-billed Gulls

Laughing Gulls

An Afternoon at the Beach

As regular readers probably already know, I love spending time on the Gulf Coast.  This spring, I was able to spend a few days enjoying the natural sights in parts of coastal Mississippi and Alabama.  Let’s take a look at some of the avian life that I observed in an afternoon on the Mississippi coast!

It was a pleasant day at the Ocean Springs public beach, and the area was teeming with birds.  Snowy Egrets waded near the shore, darting back and forth in the shallows as they searched for fish and aquatic invertebrates.  They occasionally stopped and flew farther up the beach to find better pickings.

Snowy Egrets

Gulls, terns, cormorants, and pelicans perched on old pilings.  The size difference between the species Laughing Gull and Herring Gull is apparent in the next couple of photos.  Most of the Herring Gulls that I saw had not yet attained adult plumage—probably because it takes the birds four years to reach maturity.  Herring Gulls’ slow maturation goes hand-in-hand with their longevity, though; individuals have been known to live for several decades in the wild.  I imagine that the older ones are the wiliest of beach marauders. 

Herring Gulls, Laughing Gull (foreground), and Double-crested Cormorant (at right)

Herring Gull in middle, Laughing Gulls above and below

In addition to the Herring Gulls, there were dozens of Laughing Gulls milling around on the beach and foraging over the water.  Their raucous calls rang out in the salty air.

Laughing Gull flock

Black Skimmers, which, as their name suggests, hunt for fish by gliding low over the water and skimming the surface with their long bills, formed their own sizeable flocks on the sandbars.  They also sometimes mingled with the Laughing Gulls, but they did not fly out to hunt.  Unlike the more diurnal gulls and terns, skimmers tend to be crepuscular, foraging mainly during dawn and dusk.  I can relate; I don’t always feel so energetic during the heat of midday, either.  Skimmers actually have more rods than cones in their eyes than most birds do, which makes it easier for them to hunt in dim light. 

Gulls and Black Skimmers

A few Ring-billed and Bonaparte’s Gulls were mixed in with the enormous flocks of Laughing Gulls.  Ring-billed Gulls bear distinctive black markings on their bills, and Bonaparte’s Gulls—during winter and spring, at least—have smudgy dark spots on their heads.  Both species are common on the Gulf Coast from fall to spring, although they’re far less numerous than Laughing Gulls.

Ring-billed Gull strolling along

Bonaparte's Gull swimming

At one point, most of the roosting and foraging birds were stirred up by … something.  The flocks of gulls and skimmers simply exploded upward in a flurry of wingbeats.  What was going on? 

Stirred up!

Looking around, I deduced that the source of the consternation was an adult Bald Eagle that was perched in a giant live oak tree.  Wow!  Bald Eagles will certainly catch gulls and other shorebirds if they get the opportunity, but, given that this one had been detected already by its potential prey, I think that its chances of obtaining a poultry meal at this site were slim.

The Bald Eagle

Apparently, even a predator as fierce as a Bald Eagle is a bit less frightening to smaller birds if they can let it know that they can see it.  This is probably why a bunch of the Laughing Gulls dive-bombed the eagle—taunting it prevented it from launching a surprise attack on the flock. 

Gull flying over eagle's head

Overall, it was a great afternoon for birding on the Gulf Coast.  Stay tuned for more in later posts!