December 18, 2011
Salmon River Christmas Bird Count

Thirty-eight brave souls tallied 71 species in cold raw conditions. Some species were down, while there were also a few surprises. Birds that rely heavily on berries were hard to find and in some usual haunts they were non-existent, and so were the berries. Seed crops were, for the most part, fine and so seed-eaters like sparrows, finches, doves, etc., were found in normal numbers. It was difficult locating ducks and other water species because they were dispersed over a greater area due to the vast amount of open water.
Notable records this year were:
4 Pied Billed Grebes in 3 distinct locations
3 Chipping Sparrows
2 Common Loons
3 groups had Ring Neck Ducks
4 Turkey Vultures
2 Saw whet Owls
2 Pine Siskins spied at a feeder on Wapowaug Road in East Hampton.

See Christmas Count Tally page. Thanks to all who participated. Mark your calendar: next year’s count is December 16th.
Joe Morin

November 12 and November 19, 2011
Owl Prowls

I am not sure if it was the change from Friday to Saturday or the trips being held a week later than usual, or some other factor, but attendance was poor. The owls did not want to participate either—no owl at Ravine Park. Other locales did not turn up anything either, until we arrived at Laurel Brook Road, near the brook that comes from the reservoir. We had a brief encounter with a Northern Saw Whet Owl, and near Lyman Orchard, a Screech Owl was heard.
The Owl trip on November 19th had a few more people, but the owls were still being stubborn. No owls again at Ravine Park. Never, in 30 years, had this happened. A lot of the large trees in the park had come down during the snow event on the October 29th. On Lyceum Road in Middletown, we finally did have an owl come in, with persistent calling. It delighted everyone by flying 4 or 5 feet above the road. The participants who hung tough on that cold night also heard the chatter-type call of a Saw Whet owl on River Road in Maromas.
Look for these trips earlier next year and possibly one in the spring.
Joe Morin

August 20, 2011 Canoe, Kayak Trip: Shore Birds at Griswold Point

They slid their crafts silently into the tidal creek as the unseen orbiting moon slurped the green waters back into Long Island Sound. Osprey uneasily chirped at the passage of the three naturalists as they paddled past bristling banks of smooth cordgrass. They soon bottomed out in paper thin waters. Glistening mud flats on either side of their crafts harbored numerous shore birds: Lesser yellowlegs; Semipalmated sandpipers and Semi-palmated plovers; Black-bellied plovers; Snowy egrets; Great egrets. A Willet flexed its wings and bolted with a familiar staccato cry. Dunlin slept with heads folded under their wings. Least sandpipers probed the mud like nervous, twitching facial muscles.

Turning back towards a deeper channel the naturalists felt a fresh wind wafting off the Sound. The sun warmed as the morning progressed. Beaching along Griswald Point, the three strolled the rack line, noting the plentitude of mollusks and gastropods, the variety of algae and other life forms that evolved and poured into the vacuum that nature created. More Semi-palmated sandpipers; a Ruddy turnstone; the sharp, diving silhouettes of Least terns and the slower, undulating flight of Common terns; the wary, combative gulls: Herring; Laughing; Ring bill.

Walking past the cages that sheltered the nurseries of Piping plovers, Monarch butterflies were seen hovering around Seaside goldenrod. The exposed black mud of buried former salt marsh bristling with truncated spikes of Phragmites gaped in the shallow tide. Tide pools of tepid water harbored shrimp, crabs, and numerous minnows awaiting the return of the waters of the Sound. The skeletal remains of huge trees, formerly the “Plantagenets of the woods”, lay buried helplessly in the sand.
Culminating the trip on the blonde, sandy fringe of Great Island, adjacent to Griswold Point, facing the Connecticut River as it kissed the Sound with the waters of four states and Canada, the naturalists absorbed wind and sun, both redeemed and resigned to the impermanence of all, and the migration of bird and soul.

September 17, 2011 Wangunk Meadows Trip was cancelled

because of flooding from Hurricane Irene

October 2, 2011 Wangunk Meadows

Seven birders met at the Portland Middle School parking lot in the pouring rain. Fortunately, the showers had ended by the time we reached our first stop at the Portland fairgrounds. Conditions were too muddy to walk deep into Wangunk Meadows so we decided to concentrate on the area around the fairgrounds and skating pond. Our day started with a sighting of four Great Egrets and a Great Blue Heron feeding at the far end of the skating pond. As we walked around the edge of the pond we found Solitary Sandpipers and a Wilson’s Snipe. Behind the fairgrounds was another shorebird whose identity we were unsure of. A photo identification showed it to be a Stilt Sandpiper. There were a dozen Eastern Bluebirds that were putting on a nice show for us. There were juvenile and adult birds landing on the power lines and fence posts bordering the fairgrounds. Some were seen with mouthfuls of food. We found a Yellow-rumped Warbler and Palm Warblers in the same area. We drove to the north entrance of Wangunk Meadows where we saw a good number of Savannah and Swamp Sparrows. Other sparrows for the day included White-throated, Song and Chipping Sparrows. Some of us continued on to The Helen Carlson Sanctuary where we had a close-up view of two Green Herons. Other birds viewed there included a Wood Duck flyover Pileated Woodpecker and someone’s pet Muscovy Duck. We ended the day with a brief stop at an undeveloped portion of the Airline Rail Trail where we added a Red-tailed Hawk, Red-eyed Vireo, and Common Yellowthroat to the list.

Total species for the day 38: Great Blue Heron, Great Egret, Green heron, Canada Goose, Wood Duck, Mallard, Red-tailed Hawk, Kildeer, Solitary Sandpiper, Stilt Sandpiper, Wilson’s Snipe, Red-bellied Woodpecker, Downy Woodpecker, Northern Flicker, Pileated Woodpecker, Eastern Phoebe, Red-eyed vireo, Blue Jay, American Crow, Tree Swallow, Black-capped Chickadee, Tufted Titmouse, White-breasted Nuthatch, Carolina Wren, Eastern Bluebird, American Robin, Gray Catbird, European Starling, Yellow-rumped Warbler, Palm Warbler, Common yellowthroat, Chipping Sparrow, Savannah Sparrow, Song Sparrow, Swamp Sparrow, White-throated Sparrow, Northern Cardinal, Red-winged Blackbird.
Larry Nichols

April 16, 2011, Wildflower Walk

There were four of them, adults that is, and one child, precocious, preoccupied and demanding a lift rather than walking the heavily rooted path in her pink rubber boots—the father, so tall, from where the little girl could see far out onto the chill April waters of the reservoir with the mallards, geese and mergansers sailing thereon. She fidgeted while the leader of the trip in his brown felt hat pointed out the early arriving migrants, pine warblers, calling from the tops of the dense, thin-needled trees.
The first encounter with wild flowers was the nodding trilliums, swollen buds not yet in bloom. Down on the earth the father put the little girl; two steps and back up to his stalwart shoulders. Around his back she twisted, smiling, cognizant of a father’s forbearance.

The thin man knelt down to examine the not yet blooming dog tooth violet. Where are the blossoms? Was the winter that severe? Finally the man adjusted his brown hat and pointed to a lush blanket of Dutch-man’s breeches. Then the child clambered to the ground and Mother, with a guidebook in her hand, said “Look, look at the tiny pantaloon’s.”

So brief a study and then back on father’s shoulders and the smile and the swinging feet. An ascent up a moist rocky slope, where Bloodroot and Hepatica were found. Ramps were interspersed between the basalt, Rue anemones unfolded and she of the swinging feet put her fingers to her lips and glanced to the side.

Descending slightly towards the waters edge, the trap rock rolling and probing the bottoms of the feet—the girl twisted and her father became momentarily exasperated: “You must learn to walk”. But he shouldered her again, smiling nevertheless.

“Ginger, Spring beauty and two species of trillium, all finally in spring glory,” the thin man, the angular one with the brown hat declaimed.

But it was time for the little one to turn back , to get on with the importance of her day. She waved goodbye. Years hence, somewhere in the hidden dust of time a memory might stir, if only for a moment, in the space of the few seconds it takes for a petal to fall from a flowering tree, about the time she looked at wild flowers with a man in a brown hat.

LC

May 7, David Titus Memorial Annual Warbler Walk

Dawn at last and I’ve made it through another evening. My perch was much better chosen; that owl never even saw me, and they’re pretty good at what they do, the demons. Still, I’ll take my chances with them rather than a cat any day. Those devious, over-fed charlatans, getting their masters to think how cute and innocent they are, lazing about the couch all day. Without their fishy snacks and kitty litter, they’re nothing. Well, I’ll tell you, I’d like to see them cross the Gulf of Mexico at night in one fell swoop. Heck, I weigh less than a twenty-five cent piece and I make the trip twice a year.

Oh, what have we here? Wait a minute, let me adjust my perch for a better look. And forgive me if I eat my breakfast in front of you, I see an inchworm on that oak leaf over there. Hmm, good. Now, there’s a bunch for you. Must be ten of ‘em with binoculars. The peeping Toms, craning their silly little necks trying to invade my privacy. I’m not cooperating. Go find some other suckers. You can pish, pish all you want, people, I ain’t fallin’ for it.

There goes a catbird…you dummy, it’s just them, those what-do-you-call-its? Birders? What an insult, calling themselves that. Well, nobody ever said catbirds have brains, just look at their moniker.

Hey, Rose-breasted grosbeak, don’t warble for them. I love your voice too, (although my call isn’t so bad either, just more subtle) but why satisfy ‘em? What did they ever do for you, except to have too many children and then strip the earth of all our hiding places?

Well, I’m uncomfortable, I have to move to another branch and...Oh, hades, that little narrow-eyed bugger with the expensive binoculars must have seen me, they’ve stopped and are all looking my way. No, thank goodness, its just that Oriole sitting out in full view. They’re just a bunch of egotists anyway, those Orioles, with that orange and all. Hey, you want to be seen, buster? Go ahead and show off. Lucky you don’t get your head blown off one of these days

All right, now they’re moving down the old railroad bed, chattering like a bunch of magpies. Never figure ’em out, those people. I’ll just go about my business now, the real business of life, as a tropical migrant.

10 participants; 42 species seen.

LC

May 14, Spring Migrants, Rt. 17, Portland

Four of us met at the commuter lot in Glastonbury. Our first stop-Great Pond Preserve Glastonbury. We heard plenty of birds here but had difficulty finding them. Best views here were of a Hairy Woodpecker and an Eastern Phoebe. Scarlet Tanager and Great-crested Flycatcher were heard but not seen. We spent time trying to track down a Common Yellowthroat but it wasn’t long before we were chased out of the area by hungry mosquitoes.

Our next stop at the Old Marlboro Turnpike powerlines. We had better luck here with nice views of Eastern Towhee, Rose-breasted Grosbeak, and an Indigo Bunting. Blue-winged Warblers could be heard but not seen. We had excellent views of Prairie Warblers from just a few feet away.

Next we moved on to the reservoir area. We had a nice look at some Baltimore Orioles, saw Osprey flying over the area, and found a Least Flycatcher. We had several more species of warbler here including: Yellow, Common Yellowthroat, Black-throated Blue, Northern Parula, Black & White, Pine, American Redstart, and Black-throated Green. Then we saw two Canada Warblers flying back and forth across a gated path. We all had a terrific view of them! We ended the day with a quick check of the fairgrounds were we found some Least Sandpipers and Killdeer. Total species would exceed 50 if you counted everything heard or seen but the real highlight of the trip was the great views we had of the Prairie and Canada Warblers.

Larry Nichols

May 28, Breeding Birds of Wangunk Meadows

… then the two of us and the neophyte, bright with anticipation, walked to a rise in an abandoned gravel pit. Pioneer species ringed the cinnamon-colored gravel excavation and sprouted underfoot: black locust trees, multiflora rose, bittersweet, dandelions and grasses. The neophyte wore sneakers suitable for the tennis court and carried opera-sized binoculars but her enthusiasm was great. Our insouciant cataloguing of Indigo buntings quickly turned into grateful mentoring under her influence.

As we descended along the gravel path warblers blinked yellow amongst the green foliage. Where the way leveled out, standing vulnerably in the warm sun like the dark stump of a fallen tree was “Old Mrs. Mudbottom”, a female Snapping turtle. She was ambling off, having just deposited her load of immortality, a dozen or so of pure white eggs. She blinked cautiously as we bid her good-morning and went on our way.

A long, shaded, sinuous and moist avenue of sand, dappled on either side with robust impatiens, touch-me-nots, led past duck-weed coated pools of flood plain habitat. Ascending, descending fluting sounds of the Warbling vireos surprised our guest who recognized Robins, that was all. So energized by the newness of everything, she discounted the mosquitoes and flies, enjoying her “tough trip through paradise”.

The clucking and associated uproar emanating from over 86 nests filled with Great blue heron chicks thrilled us even before the nests came into view. Standing in a corn field, looking through the eye piece of a scope, the colony could be discerned, spread out for an eighth of a mile along a peninsula jutting into the Wangunk marsh. An uproar arose whenever an adult (swordfish who had feathers, rather than smooth skin, and flew, rather than swam) clumsily landed, flapping its wings for balance. Then it regurgitated into the mouths of clamoring progeny.

Rejuvenated by this timeless cycle of life we skirted the corn field, pointing out Yellow-throated vireos, Orioles, Yellow warblers, Catbirds and surprising Wood ducks tucked in between emergent marshland plants such as Pickerelweed and Arrow arum. Signs of beaver-chewed Spotted alder... And above, the sunny halo-fitted May sky, a saint unto itself, attended to by numerous twirling Tree swallows, as it sat on its golden throne.

3 participants, 36 species seen

LC

June 4, Canoe/Kayak Trip

A Naturalist’s Log:

0900 Put in at the confluence of the Salmon and Connecticut Rivers; ebb tide.
0915 Passing exposed tidal mud flats; Arrow-head, Arrow-leaf arum, Pickerelweed glistening in the sun.
1000 Noted the long, cylindrical flowering bodies of the Golden club, a species of special concern.
1015 Observed an Osprey nest with two adults. Could not see a chick, but adult behavior denotes they are serious about the nursery.
1033 Make landing at foot of Mt. Tom—part of Machimoodus State Park, to reconnoiter. This has been designated the year of the turtle, and we were rewarded with the discovery of an Eastern Mud turtle. Identification came later—because this turtle is not indigenous to Connecticut, could not believe what we were seeing. Did not take photos—a blunder!
1100 Identified several species of mussel, easily visible in shallow water: Tidewater mucket, Eastern elliptio, Alewife floater, Eastern pond mussel, Eastern lampmussel.
1130 Pass close by Mute swans, no incident.
1230 Tide returning, passing under Route 151 bridge encounter large Striped bass, a sea-run fish feasting on other sea-run prey.
1240 At the bend of an island at the foot of Leesville dam, downstream velocity of the water increasing. Discover and identify a submerged Wood turtle. Took photos!
1248 And landing. Examine the fish ladder and peruse above-dam habitat. Many species of Dragonflies hovering above the water. Black swallowtail butterflies drinking moisture from wet sand. Northern water snake explores the grating above the fish ladder. An Osprey retires to a large Hemlock to pick at its lunch, an unlucky Pumpkinseed.
1400 After lunch, shoving off for the return to launch site. Tide still rising. Noted absence of Barn swallow nests underneath new Rt. 151 bridge.
1545 Followed inlet leading deep into flood plain marsh. Wood duck boxes, Green ash, Sedges, Yellow and Blue Flag, Common yellowthroat warblers.
1615 Pulling out. A fine early-June expedition.

LC

June 26, Maromas Area Of Middletown

Species seen: Eastern Towhee, American Robin, Downy Woodpecker, Blue-gray Gnatcatcher, Turkey Vulture, Red-tailed Hawk, Tree Swallow, Northern Flicker, Red-bellied Woodpecker, Brown-headed Cowbird, Wood Thrush, Indigo Bunting, Ruby-throated Hummingbird, White-breasted nuthatch, Common grackle, Great Blue Heron, Gray Catbird, Eastern Wood-Pewee, Greast-crested Flycatcher, Common yellowthroat, Yellow Warbler, Worm-eating Warbler, Common Raven , Belted Kingfisher, Bald Eagle, American Redstart, Black &White Warbler,Red-eyed Vireo,Yellow-throated Vireo, Red-winged Blackbird, Tufted Titmouse, Warbling Vireo, Wood Ducks, Mallard, Canada Goose, Baltimore Oriole, and Mourning Dove.

Highlights of trip included: close-up view of Worm-eating Warbler feeding on lower branches, clear views of 3 different Indigo Buntings, young American Redstarts feeding in trees at eye level, excellent view of Ruby-throated Hummingbird in scope-also performing “U” flight, and a female Wood Duck followed by 7 ducklings.

Larry Nichols

 

Wadworth Mansion/Wadsworth Park, Feb. 2011

We met at Wadsworth Mansion Parking lot at 8:30 am. It was a mild winter morning with temperatures in the 30's and very little wind. We first explored the grounds around the mansion which has a good number of cedar and pine trees. There were birds feeding on the ground beneath the cedars including Northern Cardinals and Dark-eyed Juncos.Perched in a tree set back in the woods was a Red-shouldered Hawk.We also found a male Yellow-bellied Sapsucker in this vicinity which showed off nice ruby-red throat coloring We ventured off onto some of the trails which lead from the Wadsworth Mansion down to Wadsworth Park.the snow on the trail was sufficiently packed so we didn't have much trouble walking on them. Along the way we noted evidence of fox and deer being in the area.The birds were quiet through the deeper part of the trails but that silence was interrupted by 3 Common Ravens which were quite vocal as they passed overhead. One of the ravens was circling above with a Red-tailed Hawk for a while, the two not seeming to mind each others presence. We ended the trip by walking near the banks of the Coginchaug River within Wadsworth Park.There were not a lot of new species to add here but they were numerous and active in this area. It looks like the Wadsworth area has the type of habitat that should make for good spring birding.

Here is our list for the day:

Blue Jay,Tufted titmouse, Black-capped Chickadee, American Crow, Blue Jay, Common Raven, Ring-billed Gull, Downy Woodpecker, Red-bellied Woodpecker, Yellow-bellied Sapsucker, Northern Cardinal, Song Sparrow, White-throated Sparrow, Dark-eyed Junco, Red-tailed hawk, and Red-shouldered Hawk.

Feeder Watch, January, 2011

On a bitter cold Sat. morning in January, 10 hardy souls trekked Thompson Hill Rd. in Portland, looking for elusive birds. The walk yielded a Goldfinch and a Yellow-bellied Sapsucker. Back at the Luppi house, the following birds were tallied: Mourning Dove, Red-bellied Woodpecker, Hairy Woodpecker, Downy Woodpecker, Blue Jay, Crow, Black-capped Chickadee, Tufted Titmouse, White-breasted Nuthatch, Mockingbird, Starling, Red-winged Blackbird, Cardinal, House Finch, Dark-eyed Junco, White-throated Sparrow, and the surprise--a fat, dark Robin, probably of the Newfoundland race, feeding on holly berries. Photographers in the group got some great shots of birds at close range, taking advantage of the many feeders. The birds' need for water when most every source is frozen was illustrated by the birds' use of the heated bird bath. A variety of seeds are offered here, as well as several suet feeders. When the temperatures are this cold, birds need the calories provided by the suet. The participants also enjoyed warming up with hot beverages and goodies. A fine winter day was had by all!

Joanne Luppi

Sparrow Crawl, November, 2010

Link to Sparrow Crawl story

Larry Cyrulik

Two Very Successful Owl Prowls, Nov. 5 & 12, 2010

The first owl field trip (Nov. 5th) had our usual Screech owl at Ravine Park. There have been owls there for each and every field trip since the 1980s and prior. And, why not! This is perfect habitat for the 8" owl with its 20"–30" wing span­­—two steeply-wooded mature hillsides with a creek running at the base. An owl dream location, even with the nearby hustle and bustle of the Wesleyan University campus. That night some folks also heard a Saw Whet call ever so briefly as they often do at this time of year. It called with its typical toot toot toot whistle about 6 or 7 times and went silent. That was all that was seen or heard, but the owl at ravine park was very odd because its top half was a reddish phase coloration while the bottom half was grey. Unusual, but according to Julio De Latorre not rare and it occurs more often than we realize.

On the Nov 12th trip, we took a different route through South Farms and then Maromas. We heard a Screech Owl at Lyceum Road near the brook, and saw another screech owl about 15' above us at Hubbard Pond on Bear Hill Road in Maromas. The best was yet to come, as on the last stop I called a Saw Whet out of the woods. He not only tooted, but screamed and screeched and made bat-like sounds that I have never heard before. Most unusual, and I am still trying to locate a recording with these newly-heard calls. Sadly, there were only 5 individuals left by that hour of the cold evening. If I find the calls mentioned I will provide a link from MAS website.

Joe Morin

Wangunk Meadows, Sept. 26, 2010

Four of us spent the morning birding in the unusually dry and dusty Wangunk Meadows. We started the morning by pointing the scope to the top of a leafless tree where we saw a colorful pair of Eastern Bluebirds. Shortly after, 11 Great Egrets flew over.
A total of 5 sparrows were recorded on the trip: Song, Lincoln, White-throated, Swamp and Savannah. The Savannah gave us the best view of the sparrows we encountered. It was perched in a bare tree at a height of about 15 feet and it stayed put while we took turns viewing it through the scope. There was also an Osprey perched out in the open next to the river. It was a young Osprey which showed a lot of feather detail as the sun reflected off of it at just the right angle. A Norther Harrier was seen soaring across the field. Other raptors included Red-tailed Hawk and Red-shouldered Hawk (heard). The only warblers were Yellow-rumped and Common Yellowthroat. There were a lot of Northern Flickers around as well as downy and Red-bellied Woodpeckers.
Overall, the birds were a little shy so we had to work for them recording a total of 30 species but the few nice sightings that we had made the morning worthwhile. 

Larry Nichols

Eagles at Machimoodus Park: Feb. 6

Gently mounded slopes of glacial outwash, stratified drift, till, and bedrock outcrops of granitic schist and gneiss formed along the easter border fault; wooly-adelgid-infested eastern hemlock, mixed hardwoods of oak, beech, and hickory; disturbed areas with tree of heaven and hillocks covered with browned bunch grass; man-made depressions, some dry, some with pools of reflective water, a cold northeast wind, blizzards to the south.

Some bundled, others too lightly dressed, eight observers climbed a gentle rising dirt path and cheerily exchanged viewpoints. The winter residents made their appearance: golden-crowned kinglets, tit-mouse, chickadee, red belly woodpeckers and nuthatch, robins and juncos, crows and bluebirds. A promontory, and a silver silence down below where the convergence of three rivers formed a bowl-shaped cove. An opening in the channel to the left with a spray of white mute swans punctuated with the dark backs of black ducks, like poppies on white cake frosting. And then, like some winged Samsons set free from the binding columns of a Babylonian edifice, bald eagles on the horizon. And the cold wind along the cheeks and the napes of necks of the observers lessened or seemed to lessen; the conquerors of the world, now conquered with awe of a seven-foot wingspan.

Dryly noted in the bird log book: 16 species of birds: 3 Bald eagles, some just overhead at tree top height, all immature.

Sightings at 205 Thompson Hill Road

The early fall found Northern Cardinals bringing their somewhat mottled-looking young to the sunflower seed feeders. The Red-bellied Woodpeckers seemed to have trouble enticing their young to the feeders--the adult male flew repeatedly from feeder to a nearby branch to give the juvenile a seed. Finally, the young one got the idea, after at least 8 tries. At that stage of its growth, the “baby” was as big as the parent, but had not yet acquired the red on the head.

On Nov. 26 and again on Dec. 1, we were treated to the sight of a flock of Cedar Waxwings feeding on the berries on the dogwood trees and on the red cedar trees. These are two trees that provide wonderful winter food for birds. The eastern red cedar, in particular, offers both food and shelter to winter birds.

During the first week of Dec., a male Sharp-shinned Hawk checked out the back yard several times. The local Blue Jays gave their warning calls and the feeder birds immediately scattered.
Don’t forget to call for a spot on the Jan. 23 Backyard Birding morning. We hope to see some of the above and many more!

Christmas Count Held on Dec. 27, 2009

Because of the massive storm predicted (and received in some areas) on Dec. 20, the 35th Annual Salmon River Christmas Bird Count was postponed until Dec. 27. Stalwarts were out on the 27th, in spite of steady light rain, and mud just everywhere. Fog from warm rain hitting frozen ground reduced visibility to maybe 100 yards. The fog, rain, and mist did not lift until about noon-time, therefore, the morning yielded few birds, and our numbers, especially species numbers, were way down. Ducks were in short supply because ponds and lakes were frozen solid, with a coating of rainwater on top. Hawks, also, were not present because the weather had reduced the availability of prey.

The tally was held at the Cypress Restaurant as planned. Preliminary count at the tables was 58 species, however, several lists were yet to arrive, so the species count should rise somewhat when all captains receive and report all of the lists.
In this first preliminary count, Great-Horned Owl was missing—the first time we have not had this species in the history of the count.

Data from final tally: 19 observers logged 91 hours and 331 miles: (42°-54° 13 hours and 26 miles by foot, 78 hours 305 miles by car, 9 feeder hours, 5 night hours and 23 miles.
Count Day began in dense fog and mist, and became cloudy. Although it was above freezing, most still waters were completely frozen over, and moving waters were partly open.
Final species count: 58. Count Summary

Sparrow Crawl: October 10, 2009

I had just sat down at the bar of the Cypress Restaurant and ordered a glass of beer. Looking around me I noticed a man sitting alone nearby. He alternately glanced disinterestedly at the television or stared at his folded hands. He was slim, bearded with long hair; serious-looking or perhaps tired. Then, from the kitchen, John, the Cypress cook (he told me once he liked “cook” and not the more pretentious “chef”) came sliding over purposefully and sat down next to the “serious one”. I overheard the following:
“So, how’s Mr. Larry doing tonight,” John asked genuinely. He adjusted his glasses with a forefinger and passed another finger over his mustache. A shot glass in front of John was filled with cold Tequila. “Now, dear, don’t go away”, he commanded after he quickly imbibed the glass. Another was quickly poured.
“Surviving, just surviving,” Mr. Larry characteristically replied to John’s inquiry.
“That’s good, aren’t we all?” John chuckled slushily from the back of his throat.
“I led a field trip today,” Mr. Larry went on, warming to John’s even companionship.
“Yeah, and what did you see? Dear, I’ll have another, when you get a chance.”
While his glass was refilled a sardonic grin passed involuntarily over my lips .
Mr. Larry began: “Well, it was one of those early fall mornings; blue marbled sky, maples colored orange and yellow, dew on the lawns and fields. Four of us set off to the old pepper fields that are half-filled with gravel now, but in the corner the field is flush with goldenrod. Good cover for sparrows. We called out five species: Song, Savannah, White-throated, Chipping and Swamp.”
“Good, good,” John replied approvingly. But I had the impression that he didn’t know figs about birds or anything else outside of the kitchen. “I went out for a few minutes today myself to have me a smoke; it was a pretty day out there, sure was.”
“Over in the Nature Gardens we got four species of warbler: Palm, Yellow-rumped, Common Yellow-throat, and everyone but me saw a Black-throated Blue.”
“Oh, well,” John commiserated, stuttering just a bit. “I…I know what you feel. When everybody else gets something and you don’t get it…”
“Then we went out to Miller’s Road. We pulled a single Marsh wren out of a clump of cattails. Someone spied a Black-throated green warbler in a burst of yellow-rumps and chickadees flying through the trees. I never saw that one either. But I did spot an immature White-crowned sparrow along the hedgerow by the cornfield, and a Kestrel soaring off over the swamp maples. Those Kestrels are becoming all too rare.”
“Un, huh,” John said. His attention span seemed to be winding down as his eyes drifted over the bar room.
“Altogether, we counted forty-three species,” Mr. Larry finished.
“That’s good, that’s good,” John congratulated Mr. Larry, patting him on the shoulder as he stood up, gazing around the room. “Well-l,” he drawled. “It’s time I had me a smoke.”
He shuffled outside with a quick and deliberate gait. Mr. Larry went back to his former repose, staring at his hands or at the television, and I returned to my own business.

Canoe, Kayak Excursion: Salmon River: 6/6/09

An early morning gathering; yawns, smiles, anticipation; a warming sun spreading like butter through clouds; rays of light separating the clouds that hung suspended like soft cotton linens recently laundered and hung to dry; a brief relay to the launch site; a gravel clearing in a flood plain; brown puddles pushed aside deliberately by the tires of vehicles anxious to be unloaded; embarking and a quick exercise to determine the effectiveness of the strokes; an introduction to the flood plain, its tidal effect evident in the species of emergent vegetation, fulsome and pliable, capable of hours of exposure and a similar tenure of submersion: Arrow arum, Sagittaria, Tussock sedge, Pickerel weed. Higher up on the mudflats, Yellow flag, a garden escape, but also interspersed were native Blue flag, speckled smudges of violet painted among the verdure of the near-shore. Passage over the round, flat leaves of the Yellow-lily; the sighting, with satisfaction, of the green-yellow spikes of the Golden club, an emergent water plant of special concern to botanists; the surprise to those initiates of the fragrant Sweet flag with its distinctive, rippling sword-shaped fronds thrusting from the water in thick green swaths.

Gliding up river with the rising tide, that insinuated itself into secretive channels and woodland streams murmuring downward from steep hemlock-strewn uplands punctuated by massive outcrops of granitic gneiss and schist marbled with quartz—sea water transformed by the pressure and heat of plate tectonics; white mute swans stoically declining an offer of bread; a Red-tailed hawk swooping from bank to bank; cottages appearing, huddled like multi-colored dominoes or in isolation, surrounded by terraces planted with Hollyhocks and red Bee-balm; a narrow passage over sandy shallow stream beds; the quickening waters and frothing riffles of near-dam habitat and then a landing below the fish ladder; sandwiches, fruits and granola bars; laughter, camaraderie, and then a dreamless nap, while the gossamer clouds galloped over the verdant hill and blinded the eyes when touching the sun; a shiner caught by stealth examined and then set free; a return: the tide slackens, holds its breath, and then exhales; the sky a benign panorama caressing water and hill; the sentient beings in their blue, yellow, and brown vessels, floating like bits of origami, amazed and made cognizant: there on a blue and silver disk tumbling silently in a black, light-studded universe, they were not alone.

 

Breeding Birds of Wangunk Meadows: 5/23/09

A heron squatting, waiting for a fish:
a minnow swimming in undulating silence,
was soon to be interred
down the gullet of the bird

A chance encounter led the group to the discovery not of breeding birds but of a species of special concern nonetheless: an immature hog nose snake lying underneath some cardboard trash. How this rattlesnake imitator did lunge and strike! Had one persisted, the brown diamond-patterned reptile would simply have lain on its back, white belly exposed, and feigned death, much like an opossum does when threatened.

Proceeding into an abandoned gravel pit, a blue cobalt hyphen in a black locust tree trilled: tweet, tweet, tweet, sit-sit-sit-tweet! The voice of an Indigo bunting. At the base of the gravel pit we observed a female Snapping turtle lumbering back to its moist hole somewhere in the maple swamp, having just deposited a clutch of eggs.

Descending along a sandy path into the depths of the flood plain, we heard the ascending, descending notes of Warbling vireos, the kurr-ree of Red-winged blackbirds, and chattering Common yellow throats. Suddenly, frenetic clucking came washing over all other sounds. To the amazement of the novices, it was explained that the sound was the noisome begging for food of the dozens of Great blue heron chicks.

The path, wide enough for a tractor to pass, opened up into a corn field above which Tree swallow glided and swooned. A scope was quickly placed on its tripod and to the wonderment of the pilgrims, a concentrated view of some of the 140 nests was brought close to the eye. Adults were observed feeding their young, an average of two, and as many as four to a nest. Fly by day, fly by night, some squawking, some clucking, an estimated 300 birds in the rookery participating in the rites of spring…

 

Dave Titus Memorial Warbler Walk: 5/16/09

Fog and moisture clung to the tops of the oak trees the morning of the May Warbler Walk. The eight participants who gathered with anticipation in the parking lot of River Highlands State Park introduced themselves to one another and then began to slowly stalk along a railroad right of way. Walk-stop-proceed was the order of the march, all ears cocked to either side of the rail line, eyes scanning the canopies of wild cherry trees or looking down towards honeysuckle and barberry bushes. The sightings or songs of migrants began to accelerate. Rose-breasted grosbeak, Northern oriole, Oven-bird, Catbird, Towhee, all came in quick succession. And then charmingly, a hummingbird was found perching on a dead branch out in the open. Such a small and perfect expression of life! And then, another hummingbird was seen, also perching, as if to commemorate the spring, to let all and sundry notice them and become inculcated with their miniature beauty. Wood ducks flew by; a Great crested flycatcher clucked, heard but unseen from an oak treetop. House wren, Carolina wren, a Common yellowthroat were counted, yet the total number of warblers was slim: three. Not even a yellow warbler was heard. But the rail line divulged an uncommon sight: two box turtles nestled against the iron track, a bright orange male in his youthful prime and an older female whose plastron was quite scuffed up, revealing its traveling history.

On the return through the River Highlands, Worm-eating warblers were seen down slope towards the river, their preferred nesting area.

Finally, a side trip to the river flood plain gave the remaining “satyrs of spring” a close-up view of the Bald eagle nest on Gildersleeve Island with an adult and chick in evidence. Bristling vegetation made it a challenge to view the nest, but once discovered, reminded all that spring was proceeding and life continues, like an inexorable current that mankind might try to divert but never succeed in extinguishing.

Wild Flowers of Early Spring: 4/18/09

Walking beneath a grove of White pine whose arms rested in bristling akimbo, we sought out not flowers but the trills of the Pine warbler, one of the first neo-tropical migrant bird species of spring. Once satisfied with the sight of these canopy-hugging, olive-green harbingers of a new and hopeful season, we directed our gaze downward towards the pine needle and cone covered forest floor. There were the Trillium nodding their crimson heads in modest obeisance. Wild oats, not yet flowering, were interspersed throughout the terrain. Then the speckled basal leaves of the Trout lily were noted; like the yawning mouths of circus clowns their clusters of yellow blossoms opened towards the earth. Walking uphill past the still waters of a trap rock reservoir we were led into a talus slope thick with the drooping pantaloons of Dutchman’s breeches. Bloodroot unfolded its swan-like leaves and a white flower emerged, its petals radiating gracefully. Someone pointed out the dark, voluptuous green leaves of the Wild leek, or “ramp”, an edible delicacy. Climbing higher, the talus slope offered Hepatica, Spring beauty and Rue anemone. Then a downward trek along crumbled basalt led to a virtual treasure of Blue cohosh, and more Hepatica, Trillium and Trout lily. Wood anemone flourished. Columbine, shy and not ready to flower, grew upwards between the rocks. When the reclusive, bell-shaped flowers of the Ginger plant were exposed, all hummed with satisfaction. A total of 24 species of wildflowers were counted on a bright and azure morning.

A subsequent trip to the top of Lamentation mountain revealed Pale and Yellow corydalis, Early saxifrage and the Orange falcate butterfly that danced around its host plant, Lyre-leaved rock cress.

 

Echo Farm Eagle Trip, Feb. 2009
February 7, 2009, from MAS Conservation Chair, Larry Cyrulik

That February evening while the stars glistened like shed tears and winter held dominion over all, the temperature fell and ice thickened further on Salmon River Cove. Morning arrived, however, with a bright and promising yellow sunrise that rubbed the frost out of the treetops. Six participants in a quest for eagles gathered convivially for a trek to the promontory above the cove from where they hoped to see those soaring inspirations with their impressive wingspans.

They walked uphill over snow crunching like cornstarch, commenting on the natural history of glacial-influenced topography, on botany and on the changing face of Connecticut’s woodlands, due to insidious invasives.

Song Sparrows and Juncos were noted on the path as well as several species of woodpeckers. At the promontory, the group was treated to the tap-tapping of a Yellow-bellied Sapsucker. The frozen cove, looking like a grey bedsheet, was a view of quiet deception, for it was soon noted that a Bald eagle was perched in a large oak tree near the shore above the ice. And then the deer carcass was spied, surrounded by several crows but also by four immature eagles, each taking a turn at the bones of the unfortunate one. Some squabbling occurred. It was a majestic snapshot of nature and all were thrilled.

Bluebirds were seen on the return downward along the path in an open field with bunch grass-covered mounds of gravel. For several members of the group, this was equally as inspiring as the sight of the eagles. Eleven species of birds were seen.

The sun rose towards its zenith. Two young lovers cavorted and took pictures in the snow, and the more staid and world-weary merely sighed with satisfaction that the morning had gone well.

Salmon River Christmas Count, Dec. 2008

Preliminary results from the after-count gathering at the Cypress Restaurant: 73 species seen—not our lowest count total, but a ways off from our highest total. Seems like the better the weather, the lower the species count. Check back for more details to come.

Swallow Cruise
From MAS President, Alison Guinness

What an incredible night for the swallow cruise last fall. After some very bad weather the day before, the storm cleared out for an evening of utter calm on the Connecticut River. We cruised up river to Selden Island for a view of our only Bald eagle that perched in its regular spot in a large conifer south of the Deep River marina. Captain Mark said all the Osprey had gone south, but a few minutes later, one came into view heading south as if it had missed the exit of its fellow Osprey. Not long after, the folks at the back of the boat got a good look at a Gyrfalcon. There were also several Great egrets, a few Great blue herons, some Double-crested cormorants, and oh the swallows!

The swallows began flying in before we arrived at Goose Island. They were everywhere, all around the boat, on the surface of the water, in the air above us, like we’d never seen before. They poured in and formed huge clouds that swooped up and down into and out of the Phragmites over and over, funneling together into dark masses and then spreading out in a haze of dots. Captain Mark estimated that they would end their aerial dance about 7:14. He was off by only 40 seconds, but there was one large cloud high in the air that just wasn’t ready to end their evening flight. As the sky darkened, they flew higher to the point where they were nearly impossible to find. Part of the cloud funneled in, but one group still lingered. We couldn’t stop watching until the last of them flew in, and with a cheer we headed back to the dock, marveling at what we had just witnessed.

Since this cruise was so phenomenal and not easily repeated, we are taking a break and will not be cruising in 2009.

Annual David Titus Sparrow Crawl, Oct. 2008
From MAS member Larry Cyrulik

That October morning four somnambulists (for sleep walkers they were, awakened to a dream state of scarlet and auburn hues and an atmosphere like that of etched glass) exhilarated with anticipation, struck out to find those elusive Freudian-like dreams personified – sparrows in the field. Stepping forth from an edging of maple and black birch trees into what had formerly been a bean and pepper truck farm the group discerned the choking filling of gravel that, like a brown and immutable tsunami, flowed over land that once was productive with green and ruby-colored vegetables. Yet waves of goldenrod, grey with seed, foamed and sparkled in the early morning dew of autumn like a spray of glistening sea-foam. Like elusive dreams that one tries to recover after awakening, the sparrows danced among the bunch grass. Up...down...up...down; the birds almost ricocheted from bush to bush, until finally sitting up, there was a Song sparrow; then another, and another, ad infinitum. Oh, that must have been a White throat; so difficult to see. Why must we imagine that which is right before our eyes? The Mourning doves gathered in the withered branches of a black locust tree seemed to mock us. But then in a wet thicket, more cooperatively, were a Swamp sparrow; a Yellow-rump warbler; and woodpeckers: Downy, Red-bellied and Flicker. Was that a Ruby-crowned kinglet? Yes.

Across from the former bean and pepper fields, in the Middletown gardens, quiet murmurings of more Song and White throated sparrows. Yet not the surprises or frenetic activity one expected. It remained for the open fields along side Miller road in Middlefield to reward the subconscious.

Several Palm warblers enlivened the drab branches of the red-osier dogwood with their yellow jackets and thumping tails. Despite the positioning of NO TRESPASSING signs (as if to say, “You can’t dream here!”) White crowned sparrows were seen, mature and juvenile alike, along the prickly thicket punctu­ating the rows of chopped corn stalks. Field sparrows also appeared, as if condescendingly. Returning along the road someone looked skyward … a Black vulture careened in a circle as if trying to avoid a sharp, flat cloud. An automobile ripped by, its preoccupied driver nothing but a blur like grease on a pane of glass, and the enchantment fell like a curtain. The crawl was over.

Flutes, Feathers and Fine Art, Sept. 2008

The almost October of blood-red and muted purples; shards of light, yellow like panes of broken stained glass; vanilla-colored tents, their flanks flaccid in the still morning atmosphere; the purposeful movements of the workmen grappling with tables, cloths and centerpieces; the notes of a flute pensively emanating towards the azure sky marbled with globe-shaped clouds seemingly gathered to listen; and the twelve human beings who stood in anticipation before the great estuary, Long Island Sound, a green and mobile deity, surprised at themselves and self-conscious, it seemed, the young and old alike, as they prepared for their discovery of near shore evolution.

At the rack line, the crunch underfoot of infinite numbers of gastropod shells; the ascent of a glacial moraine; and then a burst of Blue jays gathering to migrate, their namesake blue and white tuxedos brilliant in the pellucid October air; a secretive Winter wren briefly showed itself out of the bayberry bush; Yellow-rump warblers, immature, delved into the brisling embrace of the Eastern red cedar; gulls: Black-back, Ring bill, Herring flocked along the shore; then a Killdeer, almost invisible on the edge of the salt marsh; someone found a necklace of Channel whelk eggs, another fingered a black, pointed egg case of a Skate; an Osprey soared and underneath it the teetering flight of Northern harrier, the hawk intent on finding marsh rodents. Song sparrows rose and fell into the protective Rosa rogosa. The path led past monolithic boulders. Looking out over the sea, groups of Cormorants sped low over the green, curling waves while a flock of Sanderlings sped at an angle towards a distant sand bar. A Black-bellied plover stood statuesquely along a spit of pebbled shore; grey marsh silt clung to its feet.

The people saw these things and what they felt was visible in their faces, transformed in appearance from the dull masks put forth as they went about their daily chores into one of vivid animation. Then they hurried to the tents and their exhibitions. And the October day matured and sighed, and the sun followed its immutable path over the horizon, taking all inexorably with it.

First Annual CT Water Trails Day, June 2008
From MAS President Alison Guinness

Eleven boats set out from Harbor Park on a beautiful morning to paddle up the Mattabesset River for the first annual CT Water Trails Day on June 14. After leaving the highway behind, the river was tranquil and peaceful with only a few other paddlers and fishermen. The water had finally gone down from the long freshet to reveal banks covered in ferns and good old poison ivy. There was also evidence of beaver activity with two lodges and some cut trees, but none allowed themselves to be viewed on this warm morning. There were several sightings of Baltimore orioles. Unfortunately, there was Eurasian watermilfoil, an escaped aquarium plant that is considered invasive, in the open part of the marsh. Many thanks to Megan Hearne from the CT River Watershed Council for doing most of the work to organize this trip.

Pecausett Pond Canoe Trip, May 31, 2008
From MAS member Larry Cyrulik

On a glistening late spring morning we stood on the soft, gritty banks of the Connecticut River with anticipation. There were five special focus areas of the Silvio O. Conte u.s. fish and Wildlife Refuge within a mile up- or down-river of us. Our canoe patiently lay at our feet, brown and lithesome. We decided to go downstream towards Pecausett Pond, a special fresh-water tidal marsh.

The canoe tracked well against the rising tide. The tape grass undulated beneath the surface of the water. We made a brief visit to Wilcox Island, a special focus area, to investigate Arisema dracontium, the Green Dragon plant. Endemic to flood plains wherever the habitat hasn’t been too disturbed, we sought it out among the poison ivy and ostrich fern, and there it was, a population just beginning to stick out its yellow adder’s tongue, coated with pollen.

Continuing, we drifted past urban monoliths: petroleum tank farms; a curvaceous suspension bridge, a gaunt and rusty railroad swing truss. Slipping quietly past recreational boaters and remnants of tidal vegetation, we finally entered the sandy, out-fall stream leading to Pecausett Pond.

Gothic silver maples arched over the water that flowed upstream with the rising tide. The banks were steep and smooth as if colored with brown Crayola crayons. Soon the great fans of ostrich fern monocultures appeared on either bank. A beaver lodge came into view. The green shadows separated and the bright yellow atmosphere surrounding Pecausett Pond came to the forefront. Pollen-filled tidal water flowed busily around the bristling tips of pickerel weed.

Arrow arum folded large succulent leaves at their sides; arrowhead weaved along the banks and flashed bright yellow-green, characteristically-shaped foliage. A Great blue heron arose squawking angrily, while an osprey's lethal shadow glided over unsuspecting fish. Immune to fish hawk claws because of their bulk and size, carp puckered their rigid lips and blew bubbles into the mud.

The dragonflies and damselflies danced their frenetic zigzag ballet over floating shields, smartweed, and yellow lilies. Beneath these the invasive milfoil bred prolifically, gluttonous feathery denizens of turbidity.

Shadows crossed the dark green waters; turkey vultures pirouetted above the tree tops; and sunlight spread over the surface of Pecausett Pond illuminating the minds of naturalists eager to learn about this tidal corner of the earth.

Portland Reservoir Field Trip, May 17, 2008

From MAS contributor Larry Nichols

Two birders met me at the Brownstone Intermediate School parking lot at 6:30am. It was a sunny day with temperatures that reached the 70’s. The three of us started out with a quick stop at the Portland Fairgrounds where we saw a Solitary Sandpiper and Barn Swallows among other species. We then proceeded to Portland Reservoir where we saw a number of interesting species including: Green Heron, Purple Finch, Broad-winged Hawk, Veery, Baltimore Oriole, indigo Bunting, Eastern Kingbird, Belted kingfisher, and Scarlet tanager. We walked through the main part of the reservoir but also on the trails that lead around the opposite side of it. We had great views of several warbler species including: an Ovenbird perched on a low branch, Magnolia Warbler, Yellow Warbler, American Redstart, Common Yellowthroat, and Pine Warblers. Other warblers included Northern Parula, Black-throated Green (heard) and Louisiana Waterthrush (heard). We concluded our trip with a stop at the power line crossing on Old Marlborough Turnpike. Hear we heard a Blue-winged Warbler but never got a good look at one. The Chestnut-sided Warblers with their ‘please, please, pleased to meet you’ calls were taunting us for some time. We finally got a look at them. They really seemed to stay low to the ground hiding in cover. Prairie Warblers were easier to spot as they perched on the tops of fairly short cedar trees. Our last big surprise came when we were looking in some bushes across the road. We had a splendid view of a Canada Warbler which was facing us with the sun reflecting off its breast and showing off its black necklace. Total species: 59

Annual David Titus Warbler Walk, May 3, 2008

From MAS contributor Larry Nichols

On a cool and overcast morning, six participants gathered for a sacred rite of spring: the walk along Field Road in search of neo-tropical migrants. Sharp eyes and hearing are requisite tools for neo-tropical bird watching. In spite of these skills evident in members of the party, only two warblers were identified, the arrival of the main body of migrants still a week or so away. Nevertheless, six neo-tropicals were spotted and also an interesting look at wood ducks, male and female, sitting high up in an oak tree.
On a side trip to the edge of the Connecticut River, opposite Gildersleeve Island, the party was able to see a Bald Eagle sitting on its nest. This nest has produced fledglings for two successive years.

Thirty-six birds total were counted, and who is not thrilled by the song of the first wood thrush, or first Rose-breasted Grosbeak of the season?

Wildflower Walk at Giuffrida Park, April 2008
From MAS member Pat Rasch

The timing was right on this year’s trip—nearly every possible species was in bloom, (although too early for Pale Corydalis or Columbine). Notable sights were the quantity of Red Trilliums in bloom, and all 3 colors of Round-Leaved Hepatica (Pink, Lavender, and Blue), plus Yellow Corydalis just beginning to bloom. In full blossom were Spring Beauty, Dutchman’s Britches, Wood Anemone, Trout Lily, Wild Ginger, Rue Anemone, Blue Cohosh, Early Saxifrage, Pussytoes, Spicebush, Bloodroot.

A Northern Waterthrush was heard in the same location as on most of our past flower trips. Pine warblers were singing in the pines along the reservoir. Orange-tip falcate butterflies were abundant on the high ridge.

Eagle Trip at Echo Farm, Feb. 2008
From MAS member Pat Rasch

(Machimoodus Park) Feb. 2, 2008.
Nine participants gathered together in the gravel parking lot of Machimoodus Park on a clear, sunny, and tolerably seasonable morning. Bluebirds, Juncos, Song and white-throated sparrows immediately made themselves known. As the party walked up hill along a logging road both native and invasive plants and trees were identified. Tree of Heaven were particularly dense in disturbed areas. Soon after reaching the promontory over looking Salmon River cove, two immature Bald eagles hovered low over the tree tops and fanned out at eye level before the awed group of birders. Three other eagles were also seen. A good selection of woodpeckers were present; Downy, Red-Belly, and Flicker. White-Breasted Nuthatch, and the elusive Brown Creeper made an appearance. Also notable were a squawking Raven, a cooperative Hermit Thrush, and a Mockingbird. Twenty-eight species were counted.

Birders look out over Salmon River.

 

 

 

 

 

Immature Bald Eagle overhead