After wintering at our permanent home in Florida, we flew to Illinois at the end of April. Our first foray was to Bliss Woods Forest Preserve in Sugar Grove, about a 5 mile drive from our second home. We were scheduled to participate in a spring bird count the next weekend, so it seemed to be a good idea to check out the area. Winds had been from the north for almost a week when we arrived (and continued so for the next week), discouraging migration. This is the bridge over Blackberry Creek, undergoing repair when I took this photo last October: A male Eastern Bluebird welcomed us: It was cold and windy, so we did not stay very long. However a male Yellow Warbler watched us as we walked along the path: It came out into the open: The gray sky provided a nice background for this photo: A tiny House Wren scurried along a branch: A male Northern Flicker seemed proud of his mustache: The bluebird bade us farewell from the roof of the pavilion: We returned under more favorable skies. This male Rose-breasted Grosbeak sang from overhead: The female grosbeak was more subdued but nonethless beautiful: A Red-tailed Hawk sailed above: Road construction impeded our next visit to Bliss Woods, so we entered Hannaford Woods, part of the same Kane County Forest Preserve. A photogenic barn is sited across the road from the parking lot: A couple of years ago I obtained a different perspective, and rendered the photo as an oil painting (click on photo to enlarge): Resident birds at Hannaford included this White-breasted Nuthatch, inspecting its nest hole: The highlight of our walk was this pair of Red-headed Woodpeckers. A wind storm had just broken off the top of their nest tree. Luckily their hole was just below the break:
I found no other respectable reflections for my meme, so I include this one from back in Florida, of a fisherman who was out of sight across a canal near the heron rookery:
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We enjoy two seasons, Warm (and dry) and Hot (and wet). The rainy season has most certainly arrived in south Florida. Nearly every morning we must consult the weather radar and try to guess whether it is safe to walk the 1 1/2 miles out to the far north end of the neighborhood wetlands.
Here, from our back patio, is a view of a typical sunrise in mid-June:
Keeping an eye on the weather, Mary Lou and I guessed we had at least a couple of hours before a line of storms would arrive. As usual, she made the 3 mile round trip in less than an hour.
On the way in, we encountered 3-4 pairs of Killdeer flying, calling and displaying along the gravel road. Their behavior suggested that they had nests in the low grass next to the path. This particular one stood out, as I thought its plumage appeared to be lighter than the others, as if worn or bleached. Not giving it much thought, I proceeded on my way.
As it turned out, I am quite sure I met this same bird again later that morning, under other circumstances:
There were some interesting finds, among them a pair of Great Crested Flycatchers. They persisted in a small grove near the north end our our birding patch. They may be nesting there:
One rested among the branches of a Red Maple, providing an autumn-like setting at the time of the summer solstice, making up for our lack of fall colors:
A Raccoon, seeming to pay me no heed, ambled beside the barrier fence and continued along the unpaved road:
After almost two hours the sun was beating down as clouds gathered on the horizon. I headed back home, paying little heed to the Killdeers which continued to call and display. Since it was so hot, I moved to the grass on the shady side of the roadway.
Suddenly a Killdeer startled me by screaming loudly. Thinking I might have stepped on its nest, I cautiously side-stepped to my right to get back on the clear gravel path. The bird held its ground, screeching each time I took a step.
It was a brave little creature, facing my threatening bulk from only about four feet in front of me. Then I saw a nest next to it. It contained four eggs which blended almost perfectly with the surrounding gravel:
It was necessary for me to step back to fit the entire scene in my prime telescopic lens. The nest is to the right in this photo:
As I backed away, the bird seemed to realize that I did not intend any harm, and she moved to the nest and gradually settled down to cover the eggs:
When I looked for the nest without aid of binoculars I was astounded at how well it was camouflaged, right out in plain sight!
My pocket camera has zoom, so it came in handy to illustrate how well the nest and its occupant blend into the surroundings. Try to find the bird as I expand the view, keeping the subject in the center of the image (click on photo to enlarge):
The next day I tried to remember the location of the nest. Not wanting to alarm the Killdeer I walked slowly in the middle of the road. Suddenly she gave herself away in an attempt to lead me away from the nest site. She groveled pitifully on the ground as if undergoing a painful death, her russet tail a flag begging for my attention:
I walked toward her and she suddenly recovered good health and flew a few yards ahead. When I stopped moving, her agony returned. Feigning that I had been deceived by this distraction display, I followed behind her, away from the nest. Once we had gone a safe distance, she quietly flew back to tend her eggs.
Surely this helped to relieve her intense anxiety, and I had reinforced a behavior which, over the eons, has contributed to the survival of a species.
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Due to the frequent rain, our NE Illinois second home was under a flood watch during the first part of May. The Fox River was quite high. Its flood plain provided some nice reflections: The skies were either cloud-bound or spotlessly blue. Here is the entrance to nearby Nelson Lake preserve in Batavia, on a beautiful morning in early May: The Orchard Oriole is one bird which I have had trouble locating and photographing. It often mixes in with the much more colorful Baltimore Orioles, and seems to prefer to hide amid the leaves in the treetops. Its song is fairly distinctive, and I have heard it much more often than I have seen the originator. A bit drab, the male can appear to be all black in poor light. Indeed, orioles are members of the blackbird family, but the Orchard Oriole is smaller than any of our other native blackbirds. It breeds over the eastern half of the US into central Mexico but its range generally stops short of Canada and does not include the Florida peninsula. It winters in Central America. It spends relatively little time on its breeding grounds, arriving in May, raises only one brood, and usually departs south in July. By way of comparison, here is the more conspicuous Baltimore Oriole, which is bright orange rather than chestnut brown: This was my first decent image of an adult male Orchard Oriole, obtained back in May, 2013: Last year, also in early May, another male cooperated with me: Immature males and females have yellow plumage rather than red. Younger males, up into their second year, have varying amounts of black on their face, head and upper breast. I first thought this one to be a female, but the heavy shadows on its chin and chest obscure the markings of a young male (May, 2015): This spring, on May 12, at the Japanese Garden in Fabyan Forest Preserve in Geneva, I documented an adult male in a horrible photo: To compensate for such a poor showing, here is the fenced gateway to the Japanese Garden: In late may, before returning to Florida, I heard the distinctive song of a sub-adult male Orchard Oriole coming from high in a tree along the trail in Lippold Park. It kept moving from one tree to another, usually flying away just as I brought it into focus. Mary Lou helped me track its meanderings, but continuing my run of bad luck despite my best efforts, I wasted many migapixels on blurry underbelly images and sky shots. Here is a typical shot, heavily cropped... ...and a few more:
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