December 19: Christmas Bird Count

We saw some rare birds today during our annual Christmas Bird Count in the Rockland (ME) area (errant Yellow-throated Warbler, Yellow-breasted Chat, possible Pacific Loon--check the range maps to understand our excitement), but to me the coolest spectacle of the day was coming upon a crow roost just before sunset.

Swirling masses of crows
gather at their evening roost--
thus darkness falls.

December 20: Christmas Bird Count

My husband and I spent the day birding "our" section of the Thomaston-Rockland Christmas Bird Count, a Christmas season tradition which we've been sharing together for 17 years--14 of them in this section.

Flock of bluebirds--
of course they bring happiness
Winter Solstice eve

December 15: December sunrise

Spent the day birding the beaches, salt marshes, and nearby neighborhoods of Ogunquit and Wells for the York County Christmas Bird Count. We began the day with a beautiful sunrise over the ocean at Moody Point, where dozens of sandpipers twinkled at the edge of the chilly surf...

 

Sunrise over the beach--

at the sandy edge

one frozen raspberry.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted with Blogsy

January 2: Cancelled trip

Two below. Snow falls
all day. I imagine
being on that boat.

December 28: Ducks on the Passy

Counting birds on some of Coastal Mountains Land Trust's Passy Greenway preserves in Belfast for part of the day, for the N. Penobscot Bay Christmas Bird Count, was more of a challenge than I'd anticipated. The effects of the recent ice storm are still quite visible, thanks to persistent cold temperatures. Everywhere, trees remain coated and bent to the ground with their burden of ice. It was as if entire forests were bowing down in severe obeisance to Skadi, the Norse goddess of winter.

It took me hours to clamber around one trail on snowshoes on the partially crusted snow. The second trail I'd planned to hike was impassable--too many frozen trees in the way. The third trail was too steep and icy for me to get far. So in the end, I gave up: I shucked my snowshoes, drove to Belfast harbor, and walked out on the Footbridge to watch ducks bobbing in the falling tide.

In the chilled harbor
ducks posture for mates.
When you feel it, you feel it.

Entrance to the Stover Preserve.
See why I didn't get far?

The icy forest of the Stephenson Preserve

December 21: Winter Solstice

Participated today in the Thomaston-Rockland Christmas Bird Count. For the first time we found a Snowy Owl in our count area, on the Samoset golf course. The heavily barred bird looked like a rock until it moved. And then we found another, paler one, perched atop a church. Crows harassed it until it flew off over Rockland Harbor, a flurry of white wings and black in the bleak sky. The owl's yellow eyes shone pure and cold; the length and scimitar curve of its talons made me shiver. Such beauty, such deadly beauty. Like winter itself. 

We welcome winter

in the form of

two Snowy Owls.

One of today's owls, courtesy of Brian Willson (c), maineseasons.com

December 22: Grosbeaks to start

Our local Christmas Bird Count--the Thomaston-Rockland Count--is held on the last Saturday before Christmas, so today was the day! My husband and I have been the coordinators of our section of the count circle for something like ten years now, and every year we feel a similar excited anticipation of what we'll turn up this time around.

We knew today was going to go well when we pulled in a little late to the initial meeting spot, and our fellow birders had already spotted a flock of Pine Grosbeaks feeding in a nearby crabapple. Pine Grosbeak is an irruptive species; it prefers the northern boreal forest but occasionally pops down to New England during winters when the fruit and spruce cone crops up north are poor. I'm not sure we've ever even had Pine Grosbeaks in our count section, so it seemed a good omen to see them at the beginning of our long day of counting every bird we find in our section.

We ended the day with a possible section-high total of 51 species, including lots of ducks (for the first time we can remember, all water was ice-free), more grosbeaks, Purple Sandpipers on the breakwater, Razorbills in outer Rockland Harbor, and a flicker (which should have migrated south by now). We even spotted a Gray Seal checking us out as we walked on the breakwater.

Female grosbeaks
appear dull
only from a distance.

December 18: Counting ravens

I spent all my daylight hours today with two friends, Derek and Jeannette, doing a Christmas Bird Count in Jefferson, Maine. Time spent birding with friends is always good, even when it rains all day and there are few birds to be found. Before lunch, our most exciting find was four bluebirds on a utility wire. During lunch, our most exciting find was excellent grilled cheese on homemade bread at Ollie's in Jefferson village.

After lunch, despite some setbacks that limited our walking time--like a chilly wind added to the continuing rain--we had some of our best (non-food) discoveries. At a bison and red deer farm, of all places, we followed a public trail to a small covered bridge where Derek had noticed what looked like a possible raven nest when scouting the area last week. When a pair of ravens flew out upon our arrival today, his theory was confirmed.

The pair flew a short distance as we continued on. We could hear them vocalizing in their odd, quorky way nearby. Seeing ravens always thrills me--they've long been one of my favorite birds--but seeing that pair today was especially meaningful because they were the theme of my husband's and my wedding almost ten years ago; this Winter Solstice, we celebrate the non-wedding anniversary of the day on which we first considered ourselves a couple.

(For other highlights of the afternoon, we also found a flicker at the bison/deer farm, and on Damariscotta Lake, a lingering loon and a small raft of Lesser Scaups.)

Winter rain: ravens
shelter in a covered bridge.
Thinking about pair bonds.

December 17: Christmas Bird Count

We start our Count at the Rockland Breakwater

Despite heavy morning snow showers and bone-chilling cold, we enjoyed a wonderful day tromping around outside with friends old and new, counting every bird in sight for the annual Thomaston-Rockland Christmas Bird Count. 

In our count section, we ended up with 50 total species (47 by our group on land, with 3 more added by a friend coming in to Rockland on the Vinalhaven ferry). Highlights included: long-tailed ducks gobbling in Rockland Harbor, a merlin zipping past the Breakwater, purple sandpipers discovered by Paul on a solo second trip out the length of the Breakwater and back, and a lesser scaup in a pond at the Samoset Resort. A red-bellied woodpecker at a feeder was a first for our Count section, I think. A raft of over 600 coots in Chickawaukie Lake was a definite high count for that species; I'm sure we were underestimating our tally for them. A soaring bald eagle reminded us of a friend no longer with us who used to join us for the Christmas Count--she was always the one to spot an eagle. We watched crows chase a red-tailed hawk. A lingering yellow-rumped warbler chased down in a swamp thicket turned out to be the only warbler seen all day in the entire Count circle. Lots of very pretty tree sparrows turned up, a bird we only see here in winter. And in the mammal department, we came upon a basking harbor seal and a swimming muskrat. The most numerous species (besides coot, of course) was Canada goose, which flocks up in great numbers on the Samoset golf course, followed by mallard and herring gull. No surprises there, but plenty of simple delight.

Yesterday's flowers; today's snow

The best moment of the whole day for me was at the very end, when in the deepening dusk I walked a short distance alone into the woods in a last ditch attempt to find a golden-crowned kinglet. I didn't find a kinglet. Instead, off in the distance, a great horned owl called. Those low, soft notes: hoo-he-hoo hooo hooo, how they carry through the cold air through stands of pines and spruce. You almost feel them as much as hear them. I stood in the trail and just listened, feeling a little shiver run through me that had nothing to do with how cold I was. The owl was beginning its evening, announcing to the creatures of forest and field below: I'm here and soon I'll be hunting. 

One owl calls at dusk.

Alone, I hear its summons,

stand still, and shiver.

Winterberries in the snow

 

January 21: Robins

Contrary to popular belief, it's not all that unusual to see robins in the winter. Yes, all robins fly south when the seasons change, but for robins north of us--say, in Newfoundland--this is south. This winter, however, robins have been few and far between. The Thomaston-Rockland Christmas Bird Count was remarkable for its paucity of tallied robins. And although a small flock usually forages in my neighborhood each winter, I don't think I've personally seen a robin for two full months, maybe more. Until this morning. Wending my way back to the office on Camden's side streets, I almost drove into a snowbank as I caught sight of a group of a ten or so unmistakable birds scattered in the trees of a backyard, their rosy breasts bright against the backdrop of snow. Finally, some robins!

These Canadian robins are noticeably bigger and darker than their southern counterparts, making them look even more dramatic when they flock together in a snowy tree. In winter robins shift from sucking worms out of our lawns to foraging for fruit in crabapple and mountain ash trees, sumac stands, and berry bushes. In this time of year when finding a territory and a mate aren't the driving imperatives, the birds flock together--partly for the "safety in numbers" factor, but also because many eyes are better than two when looking for a food source. They aren't the only species to do this, either. Winter robins will sometimes be accompanied by bluebirds, their thrush cousins--another odd but not rare sight in these cold climes.

"Newfoundland" robin. Photo courtesy of Luke Seitz.

Although they aren't harbingers of spring just yet, they certainly brightened my morning--almost as much as seeing the first sunshine and blue sky in four days. In just a few months, however, we'll start seeing these sturdy birds gathering by the dozens on thawing fields, lawns, and golf courses. And then we'll start hearing their cheery, chirruping songs in the trees. Those robins will be "our" robins, returned for another nesting season. The hardier Canadian visitors will have headed back north once again.

Winter's festive flock:
robins eating crabapples.
No signs of spring yet.

December 19: Christmas Bird Count

The annual Christmas Bird Count (CBC) is one of those holiday season traditions that I always look forward to. The basic premise is this: a fixed Count Circle with a 15-mile radius has been divided into territories, or sections; we spend the entire designated day counting every bird we see in our section. Not just how many species we see, but every individual bird we see. All day. It's a long one, especially when temperatures are low.

The Christmas Bird Count, which has been going on for over 100 years, originated as an alternative to the Christmas "Side Hunts" in which men would compete to see who could shoot the most birds. Done in the same place at the same time over a number of years, the CBC reveals trends in bird populations. You can read more about it on the Audubon website. My husband and I have personally been involved with the local Thomaston-Rockland Count for over 15 years, and have been leading "our" section for about half that time. This morning we were joined by several birder friends who were kind enough to brave the cold to help us count. We began the day with a fly-by pair of ravens. Louisa Gerstenberger's sharp eyes found an eagle perched in a tree; later we enjoyed watching it fly over the breakwater. This was the only ocean in our section, so we spent the longest time here, trying to rack up ducks, geese, grebes, and loons. The breakwater itself was covered with a thin coating of salty ice, and scattered with gull-pecked sea urchin bodies. Usually we see purple sandpipers on the seaward side of this jetty, but not today, despite walking its length, with care, two different times.

After lunch, my husband and I were on our own in tackling the most challenging part of our section, a strange no-man's-land in Rockland's hinterlands, a marshy valley bounded by several old limestone quarries that, despite being across the street from the city dump, has also become a local dumping grounds. This year we came upon the remains of a moose head. Some years it's discarded appliances or a bag of deer guts, and always lots of beer bottles. This year, a moose head. We were also fortunate enough to come upon a flock of cedar waxwings, one of my favorite birds, as well as a group of 6 cardinals, several red-tailed hawks flying over the fields, and some attractive sparrows.

By dark, we had racked up 34 species, 753 individuals. In a "good" year we get at least 40 species, but we aren't complaining. Our list includes 7 wild turkeys, 5 downy woodpeckers, 127 Canada geese, 57 crows, 101 herring gulls, 4 horned grebes, and 23 buffleheads. And we spent the whole of a sunny winter day outside, looking for birds with good friends in this beautiful area we call home. That's the kind of holiday tradition I like to keep.

We saw 36 of these guys, including this one. Photo by Brian Willson.

Raven: two; Loon: four--

ritual of the Bird Count.

But who can count joy?