Ferruginous Hawk x 2

Today (12/27/2010), Mac Myers and I were conducting beach surveys in Cameron Parish.  As we were traveling from Holly Beach to the Johnsons Bayou area, we saw a group of hawks soaring and kiting over the fields and marsh south of the highway.  One obviously didn't look like a Red-tailed, so we stopped and made sure.  It was indeed a Ferruginous Hawk, as we suspected: this was right across the highway from where James Beck had found a cooperative Ferruginous last October.  That bird had allowed a lot of happy birders to add this species to their state lists, but as far as I can recall, it hadn't been reported since late October or so.  Mac and I were pleased to have relocated it.  

We continued on our way, and a few minutes later we were at the end of Erbelding Road, about a mile west of where we'd seen the Ferruginous.  There was another nice group of hawks there, at least seven visible at once.  As we watched, another hawk materialized from the west, flying in fairly low.  It was a Ferruginous Hawk.

We felt it was a different bird, as we'd left the other bird soaring a mile to the east.  However, the wind was strong out of the southeast, so there was a chance it was the same bird, but had ridden downwind quickly and beaten us to the spot. 

On the way back out from the beach a few hours later, we relocated the  Ferruginous Hawk at the end of Erbelding Road.  We kept an eye on it as we got back on the highway, and we headed back east a mile, making sure this bird didn't drift back to the original hawk spot.  When we got back to the first site, we picked out a Ferruginous mixed with the redtails soaring well south of the highway, and convinced ourselves there really were two Ferruginous Hawks.  But just to make sure, we headed back to Erbelding Road, looked up, and relocated Ferruginous Hawk #2.

This is the first time that I'm aware of that two Ferruginous Hawks have been reported in a day in Louisiana.  With all of the food the hawk swarm along the coast must be finding to eat, I wouldn't be surprised if more good hawks find their way there.    

Lapland Longspurs

Last weekend, I took a ride out to a spot that's been pretty reliable for Lapland Longspurs for the past couple of winters.  These arctic nesters aren't easy to find in SW Louisiana, so it's always fun when I get a chance to look at them.  Luckily, I found two large flocks that added up to almost 500 birds.  That might make it sound like I got good looks at them, but it wasn't quite like that at first.  Often, what you see of Lapland Longspurs looks something like this:

Longspur flocks can be kind of jumpy.  They have a funny habit of getting up in a swarm, flying in huge circles, coming in low to land, and then, flying back up and making the big circles all over again.  However, the flocks I was watching finally landed pretty close, and I was able to study variations in plumage for as long as I wanted from about twenty or thirty yards. 

Oh, by the way, when they get close, they look like this:

Sprague's Pipit

Sprague's Pipit in short grass habitat.  Click once or twice to see larger image. 

When I was a kid, I used to like to walk around my uncle's farm in Kaplan.  In the winter there were muddy plowed fields, flooded fields with levees, and pastures with straw-colored grass chewed down about as short as my ankles by cattle.  The short grass pastures were my favorite.  That was partly because they were dry and easy to walk across, but mostly it was because there was a bird hiding in the grass that I could barely even find, much less identify.  

In the muddy fields, I could kick up Savannah Sparrow after Savannah Sparrow, and big flocks of Water Pipits.  On the flooded fields, there were usually dowitchers and yellowlegs.  But as I'd walk across the pastures, every now and then I'd luck across a little blonde bird that would launch itself high into the sky with a short call and fly around in circles  for minutes at a time.  Then, it would plummet back to earth and disappear into the grass again.  I might walk across tens of acres and only kick up a few of these birds.  I became an expert on how they acted, but I wasn't even really sure what I was looking at.  

I was finally pretty sure I was seeing Sprague's Pipits, and later, when I got binoculars, I was able to confirm it.  It's been one of my favorite birds ever since.  Like meadowlarks and Grasshopper Sparrow, Sprague's Pipit is a beautiful mix of brown grass colors that allow it to disappear when it holds still.  

Sprague's Pipits nest in the northern prairies and winter on short grass prairies and pastures in the south central part of the United States, and on into Mexico--basically, buffalo country.  Louisiana is on the edge of their main winter range, which means it's hit-or-miss finding one here.  The short grass on roadsides and cropduster landing strips can be good places to look for them.  Because they're so good at hiding, not a lot is known about this species.  One thing that everyone seems to agree on is that they seem to be decreasing in numbers.  Although 99.99% of the world has no idea that this bird even exists, it would be a sad thing if this bird were to disappear forever.           

Franklin's and Laughing Gulls

Here we have a nice flock of loafing gulls, soaking up sun on a winter day. Most of these are Laughing Gulls, but in the blue frame, which is detailed below, we have a good comparison.

Here we have two interesting birds.  One, the one in back, is interesting because it's a Franklin's Gull.  Franklin's are always fun to look for in Laughing Gull flocks, and I always feel I'll find one if I search hard enough.  For about half the year, that seems to work.  Sometimes I start to think I've got a Franklin's only to admit defeat when the bird turns its head.  At this time of year a lot of Laughers have a pseudo-Franklin's look to them, with sort of dark-capped head patterns.  The bird in front is a good representative of that look, though not as extreme as some.  I even saw a Laugher with a full but patchy hood the other day.  With a good enough look, the darker hood and smaller head of the Franklin's is obvious.  When you really see one, you know it.

Broad-winged Hawk
























This Broad-winged Hawk was at Peveto Woods in Cameron Parish today.  Broadwings are rare in winter in Louisiana, but have been pretty reliable for the past few winters in a few coastal spots.

Three Terns

Crossing the Calcasieu Ship Channel on the ferry in Cameron today, I had a good chance to compare the winter plumages of three small tern species.  The Common Tern, above, is usually hard to find at this time of year, but there were at least a couple there today.  Winter Common Terns generally look like this bird, with a darker patch on the front edge of the upperwing, and a cap that leaves the forehead white but meets around the back.

Seen from beneath, the wingtips of the Common Tern have a distinct black trailing edge.  The tail has black edges on the outside.

The real "common tern" in winter is the Forster's Tern, above. It has a black eyepatch, not a cap. Its wings can also have a thin black edge in the back, but the black cuts up as a line into the wing.

The third small tern today was a Black Tern in winter plumage, seen in the last two photos.  In summer, Black Terns really are black.  In winter, the upperparts, the cap, and a little mark that juts down onto the side near the front edge of the wing are all that are dark.  Black Terns shouldn't be here at this time of year, but they are sometimes recorded in Louisiana in late fall.

Monarch Tree

Last Saturday (December 4), down in coastal Cameron Parish, I noticed thousands of Monarch butterflies.  Most were flying around in the chill north wind, but a few were bunched up in patches of sunlight in the windblocked south side of the woods.  I've seen groups of Monarchs hanging out like this before, but I can't recall ever seeing them this late in the year.

Savannah Sparrow

If you've walked Southwest Louisiana ricefields or pastures in winter, or sat in a duck blind and watched little birds hop on the levees all around you, you've seen this bird.  Tee-grees, tee-tisses, or tee-tee birds are some of the other names people have given to Savannah Sparrows.  Savannahs are with us from October to early May.  They can be recognized by their streaky plumage, and the little yellow spot in front of their eyes. 
       Savannahs are so common that many birders get tired of seeing them, but you really have to hand it to these birds.  You don't become common by being wimpy or finicky.  These birds can handle just about anything.  You try living in the mud all winter long.   

We must, indeed, all hang together, or assuredly we shall all hang separately.

You count 'em.

Click for a closer view. 

Eastern Meadowlark

The Eastern Meadowlark is an often overlooked beauty.  Birders focus so much on the bright yellow underparts that they rarely notice the beautifully cryptic pattern of tan, browns, and black on the mantle of the bird.  Here's a view that let's you enjoy the fine grassland camouflage pattern.

Pectoral Sandpiper

This Pectoral Sandpiper on November 17 at Lacassine NWR in Cameron Parish was a little late.    

Hi, I'm a cool bird.

             This Golden-crowned Kinglet was part of a big push of winter birds that landed in Louisiana over the Halloween weekend.  Golden-crowneds are tiny birds: you might be able to hide one in your hand.  Somehow, these tiny flying creatures manage to make it all the way from the northern forests to the Gulf Coast.  Impressive abilities aside, these birds are really beautiful.    

Cameron Parish Birding, LOS Fall Weekend, 10/30/2010

            It was a pretty happy day-before-Halloween. Temps were very cool in the early morning, there was a light breeze all day, and mosquitoes were bearable. Best of all, it was a good moving day for birds, especially sparrows and winter warblers. Especially abundant were Savannah Sparrows, Palm, Pine, Orange-crowned,and Yellow-rumped Warblers (including one Audubon's Warbler).

            I birded with Mac Myers. We did pretty well, managing to relocate the Ferruginous Hawk (being harassed by a Marsh Hawk, bottom) that James Beck had reported a few days earlier, and also lucking onto a Burrowing Owl (middle) and a Sage Thrasher (top).

White-tailed Hawk, Cameron Parish, 10/10/10

Ruff

Any birder would have to admit that the Ruff is one of the coolest birds out there. They come in a variety of colors, they put on as flamboyant a show as any bird on Earth, and their social system is complex to the point of being indecipherable. Oh, yeah, and they sometimes stray to Louisiana, where they're on the Review List of rare species.

On February 20, 2010, while censusing birds for the Winter Bird Atlas, Steve Cardiff, Donna Dittmann, and I had the male Ruff above in the Thornwell quad. It stuck around for quite a few others to relocate it as well, by searching among the swarms of shorebirds.

One other cool fact about these birds is that males are called Ruffs and female Reeves, although I must admit I call them all Ruffs.

Canada Goose

Up until the second half of the 1900's (remember the 1900s?), the Canada Goose was a common visitor in Louisiana in the wintertime. Then, the Canada Geese stopped coming. It's commonly believed that an increase in habitat and food to the north of us caused the birds to simply not fly as far south as they used to.

Within a few years, different Canada Geese began to show up. Unlike the bigger Canadas that had once called Louisiana their winter home, these new Canadas were small geese, sometimes not much bigger than ducks. They clearly came from a different source.

Recently, these two groups of Canadas have also been determined to be different species altogether, despite their close resemblance in pattern. The smaller birds now have the species name Cackling Goose, while the larger ones get to keep the name Canada Goose. In Louisiana, Cackling Goose is now very common in winter. However, true, wild Canadas are now considered rare.

To complicate the matter a bit more, feral Canada Geese have built populations across the state. These geese are of the "Giant" race of the Canada Goose. Birders can't count them as wild birds because...well, because they're not wild.

On February 6, 2010, Dave Patton and I were scanning a flock of about 20,000 Snow Geese just north of Wright, Louisiana (home of the sign that lets travelers know, "If you lived in Wright you'd be home now.") when we chanced upon the goose above. It seemed intermediate in size between the wild little Cacklings that winter here and the feral Giant Canadas that nest nearby in Lake Arthur. Its bill was long and straight, not short and stubby like a Cackling. It appears to be a true, wild Canada.

List of Lists

I don't travel outside of Louisiana as much as I used to, and rarely just to bird. That's OK. My way of thinking about my Life List has evolved with age. I've accepted that anybody with a tank of gas or a wallet full of plastic can travel around the continent seeing the birds that are supposed to be there. More power to 'em, and sometimes I envy them, but luckily there's no shortage of exciting birds here.


I've become much more interested in the local birds and my local lists, and the challenge of finding surprises here.


Here is a quick, rough count of the many birding lists I do care about right now and the number of species on each:


My Louisiana state list--399

Cameron Parish list--357

Lafayette Parish--292

Vermilion Parish--284

SW LA--376  

Yard list--163