31 Aug 2013 - Flamingo report

When Robin came out to house and cat sit for me in late July to early August, we made a trip down to Tracy Aviary to see the baby flamingos. 

 Here is the baby as of July 27. I was wondering how big it had grown, if the legs were still black and if he was still in fuzzy gray down.

I stopped by the aviary on the way home from my birdy birdy day to check up on him. 

He has certainly grown. Still gray and black. 

This is an odd way to sit, but when your knees bend backwards and your legs are so long, this is probably the only option. 

He is definitely cute. Still fuzzy. I will be revisiting him from time to time. Wonder how old he'll be before the real feathers start coming in and the color change starts. 

So many questions, so few answers. Stay tuned. 

31 August 2013 - A Birdy Birdy Day

It has been some time since I got out to go look for birds. This morning I left the house well before sunrise and started a tour of the Great Salt Lake shoreline.  I started 78 miles north at the Bear River Migratory Bird Refuge. It was hard to believe how much it had changed since the last time I was there.  It has been so hot that many of the channels are totally dry, and some of the wetland areas are parched and cracked mudflats. Even so, I had a great time and added new birds to my list.  

As dry as it was, the Bear River still flows into these 100s of acres. 

One (of the many) hard things for beginning birders such as myself, is the change in coloration: winter plumage, breeding plumage, juvenile coloration. 

All different for the same darn bird. I think I've found something new, but no, only the seasonal color change. 

Makes for some frustration in the identification process. Here is an example. This is an avocet in the winter plumage. First I've seen. 

The avocets I've been watching all summer have a rich cinnamon color. Thought I'd found a new bird. Learning more every day. 

 But speaking of new birds, these are Solitary Sandpipers. 

A new bird for me. There are so many varieties of sandpipers, identifying this one took three books and some googling. 


Another new bird was a Northern Harrier. Big! 

Nearly had a heart attack when it rose out of the rushes right in front of me. He would float just above the tops of all the grasses then dive into them and come flapping back up. I didn't see him catch anything. According to Sibley, my bird bible, this brown is a juvenile coloration. 


I thought I'd see hundreds of white-faced ibis again, but the shallow wetlands where I'd seen them before were dry. Guess they've moved somewhere else. I did get close to a few individuals scattered through the refuge, but the sky was full of them. 


There is something about the ibis, all the colors in their feathers are just beautiful and change depending on the light. They are magnificent. 

Moving from birds to fish for a moment. Carp are a problem. They are not native and they get huge. There is at least one good thing that comes from the wetlands drying out. As the water disappears carp become exposed,and then die. Many of these carp are up to three feet long. 

As I was driving past one of the dried areas I was vaguely wondering where all the driftwood came from when I realized it was dead carp. The dying carp create food for foxes, coyotes, raptors and seagulls. 

You can see how the wetlands are turning brown as fall comes. 

The highlight of my time here was finding baby grebes. I spent quite a bit of time with binoculars watching the little guys. They'd be bobbing along beside a parent then a frantic peeping would start as the baby would scrabble up into the parent's feathers. 

This is a Clark's Grebe.

This large baby is a Western Grebe. Wonder how big they get before mom says no more rides? 

I ran into a pair of pheasants and two babies. The parents flew as soon as they saw me, leaving their babies to disappear into a stand of tall grass. All I captured was one of the babies. 

Of course there were all the usual suspects, great blue herons in abundance, pelicans, snowy egrets, ravens, crows, cormorants, franklin's gulls, california gulls, black-necked stilts, coots, barn swallows, bank swallows and tree swallows, lesser yellowlegs, long-billed curlews, red wing blackbirds, eared grebes. Probably more I'm forgetting. 

My plan was to start at the north-most point and work my way back home. Next on my list was a wildfowl management area near the south part of Willard Bay. Best laid plans. Ha. I was excited about this, because many of the bird habitats are closed for viewing between April and September. I had it in my head that today was September 1. So the Willard Bay management area was still closed. Darn! 

But I did see some country I had not been to before. Willard Bay is a diked-off area of the GSL where the water is fresh and people can take their motor boats without the salt eating the metal alive. Here you can see part of the dike. 

A channel from the Weber River feeds the wetland preserve. Considering how dry the surrounding area is, you'd think it would be full of ducks or something. Didn't see anything. 

My next stop was going to be the Farmington Bay wetlands. They have changed the freeway exit signs from Gentile Road to Kaysville. When did they do that?  So I missed the exit. Geeze. My next stop was Antelope Island. 

Once again I was stunned at how far the water has receded. The causeway is usually a great place to spot lots of wading birds. This should be water all the way to the far mountains. Nothing.

It was so dry there were no birds, until about two-thirds across the causeway. I was looking out thinking the wind was kicking up a froth on the lake when I realized it was thousands of birds. Good thing no one was behind me. I screeched to a stop--may even have left rubber on the road. 

All the darker areas on the water are birds. I am pretty sure they are Wilson's Phalaropes, in their winter coloration. 

 

This is the first time I have ever seen such a huge flock of a single variety of birds. These pictures are just one little piece of the flock.

They were all talking. It wasn't loud, but thousands of birds making soft little ket-ket sounds. 

I walked down the causeway to the water's edge (big mistake - brine flies) but I couldn't leave. 

I'm estimating between 700 and 1000 birds in this tiny piece of the swirl.

Every now and then a couple hundred would rise up circle around then settle back down. I understand this behavior is called murmuration. It is fascinating to watch the clouds of birds as they ripple and swirl around each other.

I think I spent more time on the causeway than I did on the island. 

Once on the island I took a short hike on the Lady Finger Trail. Great views of Bridger Bay. Again, you can see how low the lake is. The water should be up to the line of green vegetation.

The trail was really pretty, winding through beautiful rock formations. The rocks were often a yellowy-orange color that was enhanced by orange lichens.

 

It was 96 degrees today. By now it was late afternoon and I was hot and tired. Decided it was time to head home. Just another fabulous day.

 

30 August 2013 - Sunset on the Great Salt Lake

I've had a busy schedule. Lots of travel in August, this last week saw a whirlwind trip to Maine for a meeting. One of the best meetings I've had in a while. The office is in Waterville and sits right on the Kennebec River. The views from the office are wonderful. I can't imagine having a bad day at work when you can look out at a view like this and be calm. 

  I was feeling like I'd been tied to the house for a while so decided to drive out to the Great Salt Lake and watch the sun set. I took the long way, driving the two lane access road instead of using the freeway. This of course, resulted in stops to look at interesting things. 

My first stop was at the International Center. It is a magnet for migratory birds, so I thought I'd give it a quick look. Didn't see anything out of the ordinary. 

Found this feather floating on a pond. 

The edges of the pond were full of damselflies mating and laying eggs. I was hard put to find a single damselfly as they were flying in tamdem. 

I thought it was interesting that blues were mating with greens. I don't know much about damselflies--guess I thought males and females came in the same colors.

 

I was also bemused to see just where they are connected. Not where I would have expected, but I don't know much about their anatomy either. 

There are several really large ponds on the International Center's campus, mostly to make up for building on a wetlands area. 

 I particularly like this sculpture. The world is about three feet in diameter.

 










 


The other sculpture I liked was a natural phenomenon.  I can only image the process as this now tiny bamboo grows, splits the rock and the rock degrades tiny pieces. 














As I was leaving I turned around and looked back over the valley to the east. It was a gorgeous view. 

I continued down the road to my sunset destination. The world is changing into its fall attire. 

 
I found more fun on my way. But-- because of the dusky light, the pictures aren't the best, but you'll get the idea. 

First I watched this guy come in for a landing. He was sitting in what looked like a large version of a kid's trike, with a big fan behind him. 

Almost makes me want to try it.  Almost. 

Next I stumbled on a couple of photo shoots. 

The first one involved four models in black dresses. The results will probably be stunning with the background of the lake's shining white sand. I pulled over to watch for a minute. They were so far away, the camera could hardly focus on them. 

This next one made me laugh. Why is suddenly de rigueur to shoot models jumping in the air. She was having a hard time getting very high.

Further down the beach there was a photographer getting pictures of a bride and groom. 

It wasn't the most spectacular of GSL sunsets, but I had a wonderful time. It was good to get out and do nothing, more or less.

21 August 2013 - Fall with a thud

Ever thought about just when or how you know fall starts? It might be when the leaves turn, or maybe when the air gets crisp. For some people, I suppose, the big signal is when kids go back to school, or maybe even the big Labor Day sales. Most likely it is different for everyone. 

This year the fall equinox is on September 22. Sure, that's when all the planets line up and night and day are equal, but I have my own baraometer- a series of events that point me to fall--or maybe not full fledged fall, but the end of summer beginning of fall.  Crickets, for example. While they start chirping in July, by late August the chorus has swelled to an amazing din. And after full dark, the sound changes from being in perfect sync to a new cadence. I don't know why that happens, but it signals the change to fall for me. 

Another big sign for me are the plums and crab apples. We have one of each of these trees and our aluminum canoe is stored underneath them. 

As the fruit ripens, it falls with a distinct thud onto the canoe. In the evening when the canyon winds swirl down, the thudding is unmistakeable. It calls for some domestic goddess activity such as jamming or jelly.  This year it was plum jam. Last year? Crab apple jelly. 

These plums turn the most gorgeous magenta when cooked. 

The pear tree is loaded this year, and even though many are falling, they swish gently into the myrtle, rather than landing with a thud. 

The beginning of fall is quite sneaky. You'll notice a couple yellow leaves  in a tree, or a fallen leaf full of red. 

You look up and wonder why just this one leaf has color when the rest of the leaves are still bright green. 

Or like today, the sun was low in the west and the light hit the pyracantha in a way that made the berries glow. When did they turn orange?  Just a couple days ago the shrubs were full of grosbeak kids eating the still greenish berries. Sneaky. 

Tomatoes. The start of fall is when we get overwhelmed with tomatoes. I am currently eating thick slices of tomato on toast for breakfast, lunch and dinner. And sometimes with a slice of melted cheese for a snack in between meals. Am I keeping up?  Uh, no. This is the bottom eight inches of a 6 foot tall plant. The entire six feet is covered with tomatoes like this.  I should mention there are 12 tomato plants out there. Where is my canning buddy when I need him?