The entrance to our wetlands is only a few doors from our home:
On many mornings for the past two weeks the humidity has been high and the temperature close to the dew point, so we have been greeted by fog, especially thick over the lake.
Too often I strive to depict the birds in side-on "field guide" poses. A feather in disarray or an errant bit of foliage can spoil such images. Fog smooths out these defects and provides a natural filter for photo effects, obliterates the background and focuses attention on the subject and its immediate surroundings.
Composition and action seem more important than the plumage details of this Great Egret:
Images such as these of a Little Blue Heron are soft and lack detail, but I find them especially pleasing to the eye:
A pair of Mottled Ducks are barely identifiable:
Poor light muddles the image of a Belted Kingfisher but makes the setting almost look like an oil painting:
Street lights, still on almost two miles to the north, burn through the fog at sunrise
Just as the fog is lifting, the sun's glare is restrained and shadows are muted. The warm color temperature permits better display of plumage details, especially that of white birds such as the White Ibis and Great Egret:
I did not see these two Red-breasted Mergansers swimming away from me until they were too far away for a decent photo, but I loved the warmth of the sun playing on the grasses of the wet meadow:
A patch of sunlight pierces the fog next to these White Ibises:
Everything is coated with dew as the fog breaks up and droplets fill the air. I don't know what kind of composite flower this may be, but it is very tiny, only about 3/4 inch (2 cm) wide:
The spiders' webs are weighed down by dewdrops:
A necklace of silk and dewdrops:
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = Linking to Misty's CAMERA CRITTERS,
Our stay in northeastern Illinois began near the end of warbler migration, so we were mostly in the "shoulder season" of birding, a more quiet time before the northern bird species start to arrive. The pair of Bald Eagles that nested last year near our Illinois home will not lay their eggs until early spring, but they were roosting in their nest tree: By the time we were ready to return home to Florida at the end of October, the winter sparrows began showing up in fresh plumage. White-throated Sparrows sported their golden lores; White-crowned Sparrows are notably larger than their white-throated relatives and breed on the Canadian tundra. This one suddenly appeared on the deck of our daughter's home and posed very cooperatively: The immature White-crowned Sparrow has a buffy crown but this does not detract from its beauty: Song Sparrows are seen all year, but the local breeders fly south in the winter and are replaced by migrants from the north: Larger and more richly colored Fox Sparrows followed: Ruby-crowned Kinglets move through after most of the warblers have departed, and will linger until cold weather sets in: Kinglets are active feeders, "hover-gleaning" for insects in the tips of branches: Hardy (Slate-colored) Dark-eyed Juncos, commonly called "Snow Birds," will remain all winter: Canada Geese arrived by the thousands in V-formation flocks, joining the permanent resident population. This video captures the sense of being immersed in the wild echoing calls of flocks of geese as they fly overhead. Many settled into the small pond in Jones Meadow Park, very close to our condo. Try to ignore the passing airliner! (If video does not display in the space below, please visit this link.)
These migrating geese come in two distinctly recognizable sizes. The smaller ones actually represent a separate species, the Cackling Goose, which breeds high in the arctic tundra and spends winter more to the south. The four in the foreground exhibit not only smaller size, but short necks, rounder heads and stubbier bills:Three Canada Geese are joined by a Pied-billed Grebe:The number and variety of birds was down, but in contrast to their muted plumage, the fall colors were superb. This is something that we really miss in Florida, where the Wet Season simply transitions into the Dry Season without fanfare around the middle of October. At Hawk's Bluff Park near our daughter's home in Batavia, Illinois this magnificent Oak provided copper highlights:The Cottonwoods along Mill Creek added gold to the palette:In early October we had already experienced a few snow flurries, so we were a bit apprehensive about our daughter's invitation to join her family for a long mid-October weekend over 200 miles to the north in Sturgeon Bay, Wisconsin. The city straddles the namesake inlet and bay that connects Lake Michigan with Green Bay. We were pleasantly surprised to find cloudless skies and fair temperatures. From the lawn of our condo on the bay, sunset was serene and colorful despite the clear sky:At a local farm, Sugar Maples were in fine color:Large flocks of migrating ducks followed Sturgeon Bay southward. This flock consisted of over 20 Redheads with a Red-breasted Merganser taking up the lead position.Hundreds of Horned Grebes foraged just offshore. This was the first time I ever was able to photograph this species, though the images suffered because the sun was behind the birds:These two Mallard drakes, though seen at a distance, were in better light:
On Saturday morning, November 24 we departed Chicago Midway Airport where the temperature was 20 degrees (F), and at noon we were treated to a balmy 74 degrees at Fort Lauderdale Airport. Put away the fleece and back into T-shirts and shorts! Now is when I love living in Florida!
South Florida enjoys two seasons: Hot and wet from June through September, and mild and dry from October through May. We had departed for our second home in Illinois in late October, after a period of abnormally abundant precipitation. Our lake was filled to brimming. Birding had been slow in our local birding patch next to our subdivision because because fish and other aquatic prey were diluted in the high water, dispersing the long-legged waders throughout the Everglades. Hurricane Sandy brushed by just after we departed Florida, delivering high winds and beach erosion but little moisture. After that, temperatures moderated and rainfall was scant.
Our lake has receded about two feet since our trip north, and now its margin no longer reaches up to cover part of our back lawn.
We slept with open windows, and early the next morning wasted no time getting back out on the gravel road that extends a mile from the entrance of our subdivision into the water conservation area. As usual, we started out walking briskly, Mary Lou in the lead, while I lugged my binoculars and camera gear a few paces behind her. She pointed out a nice Northern Cardinal along the path. Of course I stopped to take his picture, then struggled to keep up, feeling like a toy poodle on a jogger's leash.
Ahead, we beheld an unusual and welcome sight as we approached the Harbour Lakes mitigation impoundment (a fancy name for land set aside by the developer to compensate, rather symbolically, for the damage caused by draining and filling the historic Everglades to build our homes). The white forms of scores of ibises, egrets and (Holy Cow!) American White Pelicans circled over the lake.
Since moving here in 2004, despite our nearly daily walks, we had never encountered pelicans on our birding patch.
The pelicans fed cooperatively, driving a school of fish in front of them as they advanced in a line. Lower lake levels had concentrated their prey into a nutritious "soup."
I counted 23 pelicans. They approached closely, following the frightened fish up to the shoreline.
This brief film clip demonstrates the pelicans' cooperative fishing technique (I didn't realize that I still have a New Jersey accent after being away 50 years!)
[Trouble viewing? Go to VIMEO at this link]
Masters of flight, some of the pelicans wheeled overhead.
Wood Storks joined them.
By now I had fallen far behind Mary Lou. I barely heard her shout: "Spoonbills!" Yes! Three Roseate Spoonbills dabbled with the storks, ibises and egrets, up close and personal. (Two days later on November 27, a fourth spoonbill was present).
This video clip shows the spoonbills' feeding technique.
[Trouble viewing? Go to VIMEO at this link]
A Great Egret flew in to join an immature Great Blue Heron (note its darker plumage and black cap) that was feeding with the spoonbills and pelicans.
Like storks, spoonbills are tactile feeders-- they sweep their specialized bills and clamp down when they detect their prey, which consist mostly of fishes and other aquatic animals. The water is just the right depth to keep their eyes from being submerged. This immature Little Blue Heron is a sight feeder. It adapts the typical posture of its species while stalking for fishes, the tip of its bill just above the surface of the water.
The waders included several adult Little Blue Herons...
...and Snowy Egrets.
In this interesting shot, both a spoonbill and a pelican are demonstrating how they use their bills as strainers.
A Bald Eagle flew over and at least a hundred egrets, herons, ibises and spoonbills took flight. The pelicans seemed not to be disturbed by the predator.
Three drab Double-crested Cormorants watched a colorful spoonbill fly by. I call this photo "feather envy."
We logged 45 bird species, among them a Caspian Tern...
...a lone Mottled Duck...
...a belted Kingfisher...
...and four distant Red-breasted Mergansers.
On our second walk, clouds gathered over the impoundment. Note the grove of exotic Melaleuca trees to the right. They were treated with herbicide a couple of months ago. Two years ago, a pair of Ospreys nested there. Soon they will be cleared to make way for the highway extension that will also result in the paving of our beloved gravel road. Progress!
Our walk was cut short by a rain storm that came up suddenly. This is the view in front of me as we hurried home. The shower lasted only a few minutes.
