Bill Thompson III (aka Bill of the Birds) asked me to take on a rather deadline-intensive project: collecting photos from a bevy of volunteer photographers that were dispatched to all corners of the festival and organizing them on the spot into a presentation that would serve as a pleasant recap and farewell at the close of the festival Sunday morning.

As a result, I didn’t get as much sleep as I would have liked between Saturday evening, when I received well over 1300 images, and Sunday morning, when I showed just under 380 in 25 minutes. Mind you, I’m not complaining–events like this are built on sleep deprivation and I had surely among the lightest burden of any of those who helped out.

As the photographers gave me their memory cards, I downloaded their pictures to my laptop. Meanwhile, I took each photographer out to the front of Hoover Auditorium and shot a quick series of portraits of him or her in ambient light. I used the photos as a list of visual credits at the end of the presentation.

I think these photos are a reminder of one of the most basic pleasures of photography: the chance to regard the face of a fellow human at leisure. I know many people are uncomfortable being photographed, photographers often especially (and paradoxically) so, so I try really hard to present them in ways that are flattering, yet still accurate. I think they all look great. Well, Geoff Heeter is kind of in his own category, but that’s no surprise.  ;-)

Here they are, in alphabetical order.

Dana Bollin

Ernie Cornelius

Geoff Heeter

Ethan Kistler

Judy Kolo-Rose

Loopy Lewis

Bernie Master

Ric McArthur

Liz McQuaid

Deb Neidert

Renee Tressler

Of course, I owe a huge debt of gratitude to all the photographers and to the MBS staff that helped coordinate. I’m also sorry that I let Sherrie Duris get away before I got a photo of her. Looking forward to seeing you all in 2011!

In this rather tight crop, the bright white wing linings, for starters, are clearly visible.

For the latest info on location, etc, check the DE-BIRDs LISTSERV, a transcript of which can be found here.

Thanks to Andy, Anthony, Chris and all involved in the discovery and identification of this bird. Now, wish me luck!

It took me a while to get the dog home, gear up, pick up Liz, etc. But about 2 hours later, we rolled into the park, pulled into the Fort Miles area and in less than ten minutes, we were looking at a Lark Sparrow!

It might have taken even taken less time, had we not paused to admire a lovely male Cape May Warbler, plus a Blue-gray Gnatcatcher. It also took just a little sifting through a good sized flock of Chipping Sparrows (perhaps 50), with a few Field Sparrows mixed in, for us to find our quarry.

Within minutes, Forrest, who had taken a brief sabbatical from the hawk watch, and Frank Rohrbacher, secretary of the Delaware Bird Records Committee, had both arrived. It’s a measure of how infrequently this species has been detected in Delaware that this was a state bird for Frank, who is locked in a neck and neck battle with Colin Campbell for the top spot among those who carefully tend their Delaware state lists.

A rear view of the bird on the same perch. Notice the long tail tipped and edged in white, the striped back, and how much duller the crown striping is toward the rear of the head than it is on the forecrown.

Forrest soon returned to his post. Frank, Liz, and I worked our way around the Ft. Miles area, encountering the Lark Sparrow (or Lark Sparrows–at one point we were nearly convinced there were two, but couldn’t be sure) at least three times. Below, it feeds on a concrete pad which anchors a large gun. Fort Miles is a fort, after all. On the left is a Chipping Sparrow, providing a nice shape comparison.

They’re both long-tailed, but that’s about it for similarities. Not only is the Lark’s body bigger, look at the difference in the legs–the Lark looks like Foghorn Leghorn. It’s also got a huge bill, but the Chipping isn’t obliging us with a direct comparison.

Below is a map of the Fort Miles area, with 3 dots where we saw the bird. You can click on the photo to see a larger view, or even download a copy. Of course, Lark Sparrows are famous for not sticking around too long, a major reason Frank hadn’t seen one in Delaware before. But this spot is consistently one of the best along Delaware’s oceanfront for sparrows, and warrants checking throughout the fall migration. Bound to be a few Clay-coloreds in there from time to time, as well as other goodies.

Hey, whaddya know? A blog post. Holy cow!

On Saturday, July 26th, I attended a half-day photography workshop hosted by Wil & Donna Hershberger, a couple of dedicated wildlife photographers and sound recordists who live in eastern West Virginia. The workshop was held at Lilypons, a unique nursery for aquatic plants just northwest of Washington, DC. I went expecting to concentrate on water lilies, but ended up being captivated by lotuses. It’s easy to see why this huge flower is a favorite object of contemplation–its easy to lose oneself in it hues and its geometry.

Shortly after sunup, we fanned out along the dikes containing the lotus ponds. What follows is a sampling of lotuses in various stages of their bloom cycle from bud to seed. If you’re having a distracted, harried sort of day, just turn on some nice soothing music, feel your breath, relax your muscles (but not so much that you can’t use the scroll wheel) and join me for a little trip through lotus life. You can click on any image for a larger view.

Cool plant, huh? Thanks for stopping by!

Self-portrait by Matthew Sarver

Good news for all of you who enjoy well-written, thoughtful, authoritative, and nicely-illustrated blog posts (and if that’s you, what are you doing here?). My buddy Matt Sarver has been cultivating his web presence, including launching a new blog, appropriately called The Modern Naturalist.

Matt’s a great birder, naturally, but he’s also lamentably talented in just about every field of natural history. Did I say lamentably? I meant laudably. Just a little jealous here, sorry.

Being afield with Matt is a little like drinking from the proverbial fire hose. It seems like he can put a name to everything that flies, crawls, or photosynthesizes. And usually not just a name–he almost always has some interesting tidbit to share about the life history of each animal or vegetable, turning an ordinary walk into something educational and entertaining. Last Sunday, he showed me a bee which despite all appearances, was not a bumblebee. He went on to tell me that this non-bumblebee specializes in eating the pollen of hibiscus flowers. This was just one of dozens of cool critters he alerted me to that day. I was impressed.

Matt’s a hands-on kind of guy. He manages a property he owns in southwestern Pennsylvania, striving to improve the quality of the habitat there. And now that the governor of Pennsylvania has given his blessing to fire as a management tool–look out. I expect to see some pretty hot posts coming out of that. He’s also a sailor, crewing on the Kalmar Nyckel, our friendly neighborhood tall ship. Some say he got that gig in classic high-seas fashion–by sleeping with the captain–but I’ll leave that to him to confirm or deny.

Though he’s only been in Delaware for a couple of years, Matt is already making quite a mark. He and his Captain already keelhauled us in the Delaware Birdathon this year.

I’m betting that Matt will quickly become a star in the nature blogging sky. So click on over and say hello.

Approaching Fowler Beach this morning, I glanced at the interpretive sign declaring it a Horseshoe Crab sanctuary. I thought back to the height of the crab spawning in May and thought how much more placid things felt now, as the frenzied activity of spring slowly melted into the comparative quiet of midsummer. It would be almost another year before I saw many Horseshoe Crabs again.

I was yanked from this reverie by the sight of several dozen horseshoe crabs. What were they doing here in July? The short answer, it quickly became apparent, was that they were dying. We’ve just passed the full moon and I would hypothesize that there was a late-season push of attempted spawning.

Whatever was going on, it hadn’t turned out well for these individuals–they were stranded, on their backs, and the July sun was climbing into the sky even faster than the cornstalks currently erupting from the fields just inland.

I quickly commenced a round of triage by toe…gently nudging each crab to look for signs of life.

Nearly all responded with the universal Horseshoe Crab sign of sentience–they raised their telsons (the tail-like appendage that many people fear will sting them–it won’t) high into the air. This maneuver is part of their ritual for righting themselves if and when they are overturned, a calamity that seems to occur fairly frequently, at least when they are negotiating the perilous boundary between beach and bay. If they land on their backs in the wrong substrate and are isolated by the receding tide, they often die, their book gills slowly drying out as they are set upon by hungry gulls and gravid flies.

But these guys (smaller HSC I’m about to pick up) and gals (larger one in back) were in luck. I went through and carefully returned all the survivors to the cool dark waters of Delaware Bay, leaving the sliver of beach I could access HSC-free.

I didn’t keep count, but I would guess I picked up between two and three dozen of the creatures. It took the better part of an hour, to great dismay of my dog, Brecon, who silently implored me to cut the good samaritan act and get back to more important things, namely, our eternal game of fetch.

I don’t know if my flipping these Horseshoe Crabs did any good, beyond providing me with a little wave of good feelings. As I’ve said here before, I reluctantly tend toward skepticism about these kinds of things, though in this case, there are many, some well informed, who say it is helpful. So that’s good. In any event, it’s hard to imagine what it could hurt. Heaven knows, we provide the gulls and flies with plenty of other dining options.

So I’ll keep flipping, whenever the opportunity presents.

A Royal Tern slices through the air near Ocean City, MD

Well, I seem to be taking one of my periodic (frequent?), unplanned absences from the blogosphere, so here, at least, is something new to look at for a while.

I went down to Ocean City, Maryland, the other evening with Kevin Fleming to photograph a Royal Tern colony just west of town. I got a few nice shots of parents and young on the ground, but so far, this is my favorite. The colony shots are all packed, chaotic, and cramped, while this one is, I hope, cleaner and perhaps more reveals more, “essence of tern.” If I were to go ahead and turn the pretentiousness dial up to 11, I would say it’s a consommé, rather than a bouillabaisse.

Actually, come to think of it, a real consommé would probably have more sky and less tern. And the tern would be cut into a julienne…

Atlantic Puffins at (Machias) Seal Island

You don’t need a fancy camera to take a puffin photo like this one–you just need to be in the right spot. I took the above shot with a compact, point & shoot stye camera. And you can, too, if you want. Or you can just enjoy one of North America’s great natural spectacles, right in front of you.

I’m looking for a couple more people to join me in August for a wonderful week-long getaway to the Bay of Fundy region, just Down East of Maine. Of course, the trip is built around a visit to Seal Island, also known as Machias Seal Island, which features the most enjoyable seabird colony experience I have ever had, with the sole exception of Antartica, a much more difficult and expensive trip, to say the least. 

It’s loaded with gawky but gorgeous Atlantic Puffins and dapper Razorbills, with the occasional Common Murre thrown in for good measure. There are also Common and Arctic terns, plus plenty of Leach’s Storm-Petrels, though these last generally remain unseen in their burrows. 

While a number of sites could boast a similar species list and some are larger, what makes Seal Island the very best is the chance to land–weather permitting, of course, but it usually does in early August–and view these birds from blinds set only feet away from the birds. It’s not uncommon to hear the pitter-pat of puffin feet as they go marching across ther blind’s roof!

Seal Island is certainly the high point, but it’s got stiff competition from the rest of the birding in the Grand Manan/Bay of Fundy region, not to mention whale watching (possibly including spectacular North Atlantic Right Whales), scenery, and local seafood. And don’t worry–if you’re one of those unfortunates who doesn’t like lobster, there’s plenty of other great food to keep you happy and healthy and enjoying the trip.

Time is of the essence here: the trip begins August 8th in Bangor, Maine and ends there on Agust 14th. If you’d like to join a small, aimiable group please contact me ASAP–we need signups by July 1.

For more information, you can e-mail me at jeffgyr@mac.com, or call or e-mail Karen Turner at the Field Guides, Inc., office (kturner@fieldguides.com / 800-728-4953). I may be a bit out-of-internet the next day or two, so Karen may be the better bet for now.

Thanks for considering the trip, or for passing the info along to anyone you know who might be.

Male Wilson’s Warbler, San Mateo County, CA

Here’s a shot I would describe as a likable miss. It’s not very sharp (light was incredibly low, requiring slow shutter speeds) and there’s too much obstructing vegetation. But that vegetation, especially the way its pink and green colors complement the yellow and black warbler, is also what makes the shot worth sharing, I think.

For the ornithologically inclined among you, I’ll pass along something my host in Central California, the estimable Alvaro Jaramillo, pointed out to me: Look how golden the forecrown is on this bird–much more so than the plain yellow frontlet shown by birds I see in the East. Cool, huh?

Hello out there!

I’m checking in, as it has been 2+ weeks since my last post. In the meantime, I’ve been madly working away on a photography project that has taken me to four states, including Oregon–a lifer for me and the 49th U.S. state in which I have set foot.

On top of that, today is my birthday–my 45th birthday. Maybe next year I can go to South Dakota for my birthday for an even 50. Or maybe I should wait 5 years. Hmmmm, 50 states–50 years. That’s got a nice ring to it.

Oh, and don’t forget: today is Flag Day in the United States. Fly ‘em if you got ‘em!