August

August, a month of hot and dry.  Rice is being cut, fields are starting to flower, and the woods and wires are starting to attract migrants.  The resident birds have largely finished nesting, and large groups of local blackbirds and waterbirds are starting to build. 

As the month started, I spent some time drifting around the prairie.  There wasn't a lot of wet habitat, so what ponds were there held a lot of birds.  The scene below is typical of what one might see in such a pond, although what you can't see is the cloud of birds that were behind the levees.  I didn't see them until a farmer pulled up next to me and told me he was going to scare them so they didn't eat all of the feed he'd just put in for the crawfish, "But I'm just shooting in the air."  He proceeded to drive the complex of levees, firing a pistol into the air, and everything got up.  Of course, it all just moved over a pond, again and again, staying one step ahead of the noise.  There was a good mix of species, including a lot of ibis, many shorebirds, and a bunch of ducks.  The Black-bellied Whistling Ducks in the photos are part of a recent huge increase and expansion of the species. 

 

 

 

Nowadays, when we talk of the SWLA prairie, we pretty much just mean the flat ground.  If you want to find real prairie here, there's not much option.  Most of the prairie ecosystem was plowed up in the late 1800s by homesteaders like my great-grandfather.  Today, there are only a few patches left, mostly along railroad rights-of-way, and most are disappearing quickly.  I find it pretty depressing to visit these sites, but one day a few weeks ago Dave Patton was going and I tagged along.  Look at these stands of Blazing Star, imagine 2.5 million acres of land that looked like this, as well as the Rattlesnake Master, Greater Prairie Chickens, Louisiana Prairie Voles, and Lord knows what else disappeared to build Acadiana, and try not to be melancholy.  I can't.  If only we had set a little aside!

 

 

 



Over the past couple of weekends, I've made trips to the coast to watch the slow buildup of migration.  Ragweed is starting to flower, the sun is sliding south, and we even had a few days of pleasant north wind.  The table is spread, but only a few visitors have arrived yet. 

Some of the earliest migrants are warblers and flycatchers.  Prairie Warblers start showing up by early August. 

 

 

 

Migrant Yellow-bellied Flycatchers arrive soon after, as do Great-crested Flycatchers and Eastern Kingbirds.

 

Some prickly pear cactus are flowering, but many are filled with slowly purpling fruit. These fruit are the tunas that shipwrecked and starving Cabeza de Vaca and his native hosts waited all summer to gorge and fatten on, not too far away on the Texas coast.  I can only imagine what it must have been like to live out among the mosquitoes and heat all year around.  A day afield at this time of year, even with AC waiting in my car, is enough for me. 

Birds like the Downy Woodpecker and Common Nighthawk know what the coastal summer feels like, though.  They can be found nesting right up to the Gulf beach where proper habitat can be found.  The nighthawks will be pulling out soon, but the Downy will enjoy our cool winter that's only a couple of months away. 

 

 

August is a great time for insects, too.  Some, like mosquitoes and deerflies, make life hard for birders.  Others, like dragonflies, make life hard on mosquitoes and deerflies--and are easy on the eyes, too. 

 

 

 

On the beach, there are signs of the season changing, as well.  Laughing Gulls are losing their black caps.

 

 

 

Wilson's Plovers are ready to head south, while Piping Plovers find August a good month to head to Louisiana. 

 

 

 

Some birds that have over-summered, like this group of three Lesser Black-backed Gulls that's been around on Holly Beach since at least May, may be regretting having vacationed here with their Laughing Gull cousins, but they're starting to slowly look a little less scraggly, and fall is almost here.

 

 

 

The skies are also starting to change.  Broad-winged Hawks start arriving along the immediate coast in good numbers in August, and will build into huge flocks passing through on their way south in September and October.  Swallows, such as the Cave Swallow below, are prone to wander at this time.  Although some swallows are already on the wing to their winter homes, others are drifting away from their nest sites and wandering around the countryside, with many finding themselves along the coast. 

 

 

 

Some birds are best seen at this time of year.  While the pewee at the top is a regular migrant in both spring and fall, the Olive-sided Flycatcher below is much easier to find in fall.   

 

 

 

 

While the two species look a bit alike, differences in their habits are usually a good clue to their identity.  Take a look at the following pictures of Olive-sided Flycatchers and see if you can guess where to look for them. 

 

 

 

Luckily, dead snags are in good number in Cameron Parish at the moment following two big hurricanes in the past decade, so Olive-sideds can almost take their pick.  They are the flycatcher most likely to use this type of perch here, although the scene below shows that sometimes Eastern Kingbirds (bird on right) keep them company there. 

 

For birders that don't mind this kind of weather there's some good stuff to see right now, but some of it we'll have to see soon. 

Take care, enjoy the last few days of August, and be sure to celebrate the common birds! 

 

 

 

Change

We're in the early stages of an addition project here at our home in Lafayette.  When we bought our house in 1995 from the Vermillion family, we figured that someday after the stork came we'd need to expand.  Well, our child is approaching teenhood, and the time has come to add on.  The wheels are rolling on the project, in which our breezeway and garage will be demolished and replaced by living space. 

What does that have to do with birding? you might ask.  A lot, actually, unfortunately.  When we bought the place it had the foundations of a great birding yard, courtesy of esteemed omnologist Bill Vermillion.  Bill added the beginnings of a great understory to the existing plantings his grandparents had established decades before.  Bay laurel, kumquat, fig, pomegranate, Indian pink, and many other plants were tucked below live oaks, holly, camellias, and a volunteer wild cherry.  In the years since we moved in, generous plant lovers such as Dave Patton, Bill Fontenot, and Donna Dittmann have added dozens of other plants, including a dense thicket of firespike, a red buckeye, buttonbush, soap aloe, agave, and honeysuckle azalea.  We added satsuma, bromeliads, milkweed, and a variety of hummingbird and butterfly plants.  And all of that was just in one tiny corner of the yard!

The neighborhood where we live is an older one that exists in the shade of huge live oaks and magnolias.  For the most part, our neighbors subscribe to a different philosophy of landscaping than we do, with well-mowed lawns beneath the canopy.  As a result, our yard acts like a magnet for understory birds that the community canopy pulls in, and our yard list of migrants and winterers is pretty attractive.  Seven species of flycatcher, six of vireo, four wrens, thirty warblers, and eight species of hummingbird, among others, have been recorded in the yard. 

Sadly,  some of the yard needed to be cleared to in order to demolish and construct.  Yesterday, the treecutters came and did what they must.  Here are some before and after shots:

 

This side of the yard, above, had buttonbush, pomegranate, Satsuma, kumquat, bay laurel, azalea, and Abutilon. 

 

 

 

A huge holly that was a favorite of winter hummers and a cherry laurel filled the space in the pictures above, with a mixed understory of hummer plants. 

 

 

 

Another angle of the side yard, before and after. 

 

Let's hope that the cut worm forgives the plow, and that in a year or two, our new living space is hidden behind a dense new crop of green. And let's hope that in that thicket Hooded Warblers and White-eyed Vireos can find shelter when they find themselves in the neighborhood, and hummers can find a safe place to spend the winter.  For now, though, it's a new and brutal nakedness.

      

Cameron Parish, 7/17 and 7/25

We say, “Le chien qui va a la chasse perd sa place,” but I could just as easily say, “Si sa place est la chasse, le chien qui va pas a la chasse va perdre sa place.” 

No chasse for me; I’ve been in suspended animation for most of the summer--most of the year, actually-- with projects and plans.  However, I did manage a solo trip to Cameron Parish last week, and one yesterday with Mac Myers. 

In the woods last week, the only real action was the movement of Orchard Orioles and insects.  Some woodlots were so dense with mosquitoes that each step would result in hundreds of mosquitoes rising up.  

The beaches offered fewer chances to donate blood, but great looks at terns, including young Sandwich Terns with pale bills and intricate dark markings on their backs, and adults with their plain backs and yellow-tipped black bills. 

In the woods, a White-tailed Kite was conspicuous, perhaps a bit too much so for an Eastern Kingbird.

Yesterday, Mac and I stuck to the beaches.  Highlights were Wilson’s Plovers, of which we saw about 130, including this juvenile blending in with a wrack line of sargassum. 

On the way home, we lucked onto a Western Kingbird that was picking off angry wasps from a nest high on a power pole.  This species isn't expected to nest locally, so this may have been a summer wanderer. 

Hopefully my schedule will level out soon and give me more chances to head out soon.  There are good things out there right now, waiting to be seen.  

Cameron Parish, 5/19/2013

Stops:  Holly Beach, Lighthouse, Peveto.

I took a very leisurely trip to Cameron yesterday.  I know migration is slowing to a trickle, but that trickle is still a huge volume of birds, and I think the chance to see one more Bay-breasted or Blackburnian Warbler before autumn by driving to Cameron instead of Canada is worth taking.

In the town of Holly Beach, the first birds that caught my eye were these Common Nighthawks:

I really like nighthawks.  There's a lot still to learn about these birds, even on the ID front, so I take pictures like these and veg out in front of the computer studying patterns and feathers: 

Someday I hope to crack that code.  However, even from that picture, I think you can accurately age, sex, and identify this bird to species.  

At Lighthouse, one of the first birds I saw was a Tropical-type Kingbird, and I realized shortly that there were two, so I spent most of the morning standing around watching them.  

I also saw these flowers that I'd love an ID on:

And an Eastern Wood Pewee that's on its way north.  

There was also this dragonfly that I can't remember the name of:

At Hackberry Ridge, there was still a bit of water left from last week's heavy rain, and this Least Tern was by the road in a shorebird pond.  

The prickly pear was in beautiful flower, and this migrant male Ruby-throated hummer must've wondered what he was going to do with the huge blooms.

But he figured it out.  

At Jetty Woods, there was a pair of Swainson's Hawks.  I had some there during the breeding season last year, so I'd imagine nesting is likely.  

On the way back home, I flushed another nighthawk from the roadside.  It fluttered for a couple of feet, then landed, so I took a look.  

I checked the spot where it had gotten up, and saw what I'd suspected:

From here on out, birding will be getting more predictable through the summer.  However, even the predictable finds are amazing in their own right.  Our native birds are worth sweating and swatting bugs to see.  And if you're looking for something different, well, as they say, you have to do something different to see something different.  

By the way, I didn't get a Blackburnian Warbler, but I did get a very dull female Bay-breasted.