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.

Blast from the Past: Gulf Coast Edition

I recently came across this piece of mine from nearly two decades ago.  Interesting how the coast has changed since then!

It has been something of a tradition among my mom, sisters and me to spend a few days each year on vacation on the Alabama gulf coast.  Due to the severe hurricane damages it sustained over the past couple of years, however, we chose not to attempt this custom again for a while.  This year, though, we received feedback from some relatives of ours (who had actually camped in Gulf Shores State Park a few months after Katrina and the flooding that it brought with it) on the actual condition of the area, and because the news seemed pretty good, we decided last month to get a hotel room and spend some time enjoying --- if nothing else --- the gorgeous beaches.  I naturally also wanted to see to what extent the region’s ecosystems had been altered by the storms.  Fortunately, although there were places that still seemed barren and deserted, stripped somewhat of their distinctive character, the experience in general was very pleasant and indicative of nature’s resilience.

One of the first differences we noticed as we made our way around the Gulf Shores/Orange Beach area was the greatly reduced number of buildings and tourist attractions near the beach (in a way, not really a bad thing).  The absence of familiar landmarks was oddly unsettling, though; you’re so accustomed to seeing them as a tourist that you hardly notice them, and when they’re gone, you know that the landscape seems bereft of something, but exactly what it is you can’t tell immediately.  It takes a while for the feeling to sink in.  One thing we did easily notice, however, was that the sand dunes were practically gone --- they were in the process of being built up again, a job that nature will have to finish.  Park Service experts had heroically planted back the sea oats and other plants along many sections of shoreline, in an effort to accelerate the recovery.  In our frequent excursions to the beaches, I didn’t notice a major difference in the numbers of birds inhabiting the area.  Ruddy Turnstones and cryptically-colored Sanderlings skittered around at the edges of the waves, with the larger Willet occasionally showing up to utilize the deeper waters.  There were Least Terns by the dozens, diving in midair and slicing through the water to come back up with silvery fish in their beaks.  Actually, the fish were far from the only live creatures we saw in the waves --- this is where conditions seemed a little different from the other times we spent on the coast; coquinas (the little rainbow-hued clamlike mollusks) were everywhere, but there were also augers (sharp cone-shaped mollusks) and olives that were alive and burrowing into the wet sand.  My sister Deanna even discovered a hermit crab in a shell she picked up from the waves, thinking it was empty.  We all saw other sorts of crabs as we waded in the shallows, but thankfully no jellyfish.  I’m not sure whether these animals were evident simply because we were more observant this time, but I don’t remember seeing this many live seashore creatures during any of our other coastal trips, and I suspect that they may have had more opportunity (i.e., fewer human developments) to re-colonize.

Sanderlings

As far as seashore birds go, the gatherings of Brown Pelicans and Laughing Gulls, with small groups of Black Skimmers, Royal Terns, and the occasional Osprey didn’t appear diminished.  The shore may have taken a hard hit, but the swaths of coastal scrub farther inland were damaged more severely.  Most of the trees fared pretty well, I guess, with some inevitable wind and salt damage to the weaker ones such as the pines (the ancient Live Oaks were fine), but the change that made the whole area look like a dead zone was the understory of shrubs, a gray, water-damaged, skeleton-like mass stretching as far as we could see.  It might have just been our heightened discernment of changes here, but the numbers of forest birds seemed down.  On the other hand, a few woodpeckers were busy at work on some of the damaged wood, so the devastation clearly wasn’t detrimental to everyone.  A change that was upsetting to us was the state park, bereft of shade with the absence of most of the trees, and the areas between campsites open and bare of shrubbery.  We’ve spent several vacations in this park, and one of the things we most enjoyed about it was the pleasant shade and privacy afforded by the thick vegetation it once had, but in the long run these changes are probably not really a big deal.

We decided on our second day in at the coast to go on a chartered sailboat ride, something we’d never done before but figured would be enjoyable.  After making our reservations, we traveled to the boat dock, met our captain, and finally set off with a good-sized group of other like-minded people in the comfortable sailboat.  The weather was great, and the boat went smoothly with the motion of the waves out on the bay.  Pelicans soared in and landed on the water, gulls flew past on the breezes, and at several times during the expedition, pods of dolphins surfaced, some of the animals making brief leaps over the waves.  As I stood looking over the rail of the boat, watching the calmly rolling bay waters and listening to the calls of gulls in the distance, I thought that this was a most fitting way to stop and reflect on the recent changes on the gulf coast --- in the midst of this ecosystem that seems the most changeable of all, but in some ways is the most stable, as it constantly refreshes and renews itself.  In the same way, the natural environments of the gulf coast can and will refresh themselves in their own way and time, if we just allow them the opportunity.

Sights of Summer

It has been a hectic and strange summer, as well as a hot one.  I've been getting out whenever I can, and, fortunately, there are always plenty of interesting birds and other wildlife to see.  Here are some sightings from the last few months!

Sanderlings generally depart from their wintering grounds for the Arctic by the end of spring, and that was technically still the season when I saw this bird foraging along the shore.  If you compare the plumage of this bird to Sanderlings in some of my other posts, you’ll see how much richer and redder it is: breeding plumage.

Sanderling

Ruddy Turnstones easily beat it in flashiness, though: caramel brown, black, and white.  A palette like turtle ice cream, maybe, but it stands out against the beige and gray of the sand and mud.

Ruddy Turnstone

A lone Reddish Egret has a fierce appearance, which befits its predatory nature.  Imagine being a fish and that yellow eye being one of the last things you see before going down the egret's gullet!  

Reddish Egret

Although far from rare, the Gull-billed Tern is generally one of the less commonly seen resident tern species around here.  It has a distinctively thick, black bill and narrow, pale wings.  This one went through an entire preening session as I watched it.

Gull-billed Tern

Avian migration seems never to end on the coast, and it could be argued that it truly doesn't.  Even in late June, the middle of summer for the Southeast, it's not uncommon to find migratory shorebirds, such as the boldy patterned American Avocets.  These three individuals appeared to be striking poses against the waves as the sun set that evening.

American Avocets

Of course, beaches attract more than just seashore species.  Eurasian Collared-Doves drop down on occasion to scavenge what they can from the sand and debris.

Eurasian Collared-Doves

Fish Crows are far better adapted to wetland habitats than the Collared-Doves are, so it's less of a surprise to see them walking there.  This individual crow examined the seashore debris closely and methodically before flying back in the direction of the city.

Fish Crow

Away from the shore, in the brackish bayous and marshes, a different species community exists.  This is where I sometimes hear and see secretive Clapper Rails.  This one had temporarily left the dense cover of the marsh grasses to wade in the shallows in a small clearing.

Clapper Rail

The usual wariness of these birds (and many other animals in the area) makes sense when you consider the predators that they need to evade in order to eke out a living in their marshy home.  This means that the alligators, too, have to operate through stealth.  When summer is over and late autumn's cooler weather eventually rolls in (if it ever does), these gators may become dormant, emerging only on warmer days.

American alligator

Regardless of the weather, it's a joy to be out in nature.  Hopefully, the conditions will improve a bit as we transition into August.

Reporting from the Coast

How about a nice, long walk?  I find that strolling up and down a stretch of seashore helps me to decompress.  Any time of the year can be good, but springtime is surely one of the most interesting seasons for avian life—especially on the Mississippi coast.

It is late afternoon.  A lone Reddish Egret stalks fish in the cobalt waters.  Its blue-gray body—with touches of white—and rust-colored head and neck echo the tints of the waves.  Found almost exclusively in coastal regions, this species occurs in a white form as well as the more familiar “reddish” morph.  This individual appears almost stately—perhaps it is wary of beach walkers—but Reddish Egrets are frequently very lively foragers, darting back and forth and flicking their wings outward to startle their prey. 

Reddish Egret

The egret isn’t the only wading bird braving the waves: a trio of Marbled Godwits—migratory transients on the Gulf Coast—also feeds in the surf.  They’ll likely have moved on, northward, in a month or two.

Marbled Godwits

The same cannot be said for the ubiquitous Laughing Gulls.  These coastal residents remain here all year long, and are as opportunistic as they are common.  Many people view Laughing Gulls as nothing more than nuisances, but I think this is an unfair assessment of these long-lived and clever birds.  Like crows, raccoons, and black bears, they have figured out how to exploit human resources, and we hate them for it!  I don’t think the gulls are too concerned about this, however.

Laughing Gulls

The Reddish Egret from earlier paces in front of the group of gulls.  Are the pickings better over this way?  Maybe, maybe not.

Reddish Egret and Laughing Gulls

A Snowy Egret shows up to survey the surf for small fish.  As you can probably tell from the photo, this species is considerably smaller than the Reddish Egret.  Like its larger relative, it often displays a particularly active foraging style, with lots of “dancing” in and out of the waves.  The larger wading birds, such as Great Blue Herons and Great Egrets, tend to be more sedate in their hunting behavior.  This Snowy, however, mostly stands still and makes itself compact, probably as protection from the wind.

Snowy Egret and Laughing Gulls

Farther up the beach, a Ruddy Turnstone turns over … not a stone, but a leaf.  What is it finding in the sand?  Tiny insects?  Possibly so—this is a fairly opportunistic hunter.  Like the Marbled Godwit, it’s a species that breeds farther north.  It will probably migrate soon, but, in the meantime, it frequents the beaches with other migratory shorebirds, flashing its stunning black-and-white wing patterns whenever it flies up the shoreline in search of prey.

Ruddy Turnstone

Tire tracks show where someone has driven an ATV up the beach.  Laughing Gulls, Black Skimmers, and a few Sanderlings congregate just past these markings, while Dunlin rest closer to the dunes.  They remind me of cattle, with their (tucked-in) heads all turned in the same direction. 

Beach birds

Laughing Gulls and Sanderling

Dunlin

A close-up of snoozing Dunlin reveals subtle markings, which would help to camouflage these birds in the sand and mud.

Dunlin markings

Other migratory shorebird species on the beach sands are Black-bellied Plovers and Willets.  The plovers are still mostly in drab winter plumage, but they’re showing signs of molting into breeding plumage, in which they will have black bellies.  The Willets are similarly dull and gray, since they haven’t finished molting into their barred-and-mottled breeding plumage.  Willets are common all over the beaches at this time of year.

Black-bellied Plovers and Sanderlings

Black-bellied Plover and Dunlin

Willets and Laughing Gull

Rounding out the beach bird community are Black Skimmers.  It’s still early enough in the day that these crepuscular birds probably haven't made too many trips away from the shore.  They will head out in larger numbers closer to evening, when they fly low over the water and drag their ultra-long, red-and-black bills along the surface to find fish to snap up.  Right now, resting along the beach, they look a bit odd and awkward, propped up on their stumpy legs and with their colossal bills slanting downward.  At evening, however, their unusual adaptations will serve them well, making them highly efficient hunters.

Black Skimmers, Laughing Gulls, and Dunlin

For a diurnal mammal like me, though, it’s about time to turn in for the night.  Since this is spring, coming back to the beach later will likely mean reporting on a slightly different group of birds—a unique mixture of resident species and transients—as migration continues.

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.

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