Tree Swallows are back! They are usually the first of the swallow family to return north.
With the spring migration in full swing, it’s a joy to see these beautiful, acrobatic birds once again coursing over fields and ponds in Virginia.
Tree Swallows benefit humankind by devouring thousands of insects as they dive and dart over farm fields and wetlands alike. Not only that, their iridescent deep-blue backs and clean, creamy front and undersides make them gorgeous to look at.
These aerolists twist and turn, chasing flying insects. They nest in tree hollows and nest boxes usually meant for Eastern Bluebirds.
Don’t let their beauty or their sweet, chirping sound deceive you. When nesting, Tree Swallows will divebomb anyone who comes close to a box where they are nesting. I can speak from experience.
While searching a local marsh with bluebird boxes fixed to roadside fence posts, I unintentionally got too close to one. Soon, a pair of Tree Swallows took turns buzzing my head. I quickly realized my mistake and moved away.
Photos by Bruce Stambaugh
Tree Swallows are fiercely competitive, too. I once saw a pair of males battling over a hole in an old snag by a canal. The two birds faced off, screeching noisily as their wings flapped frantically.
Soon, one bird forced the other one down toward the canal’s surface, but didn’t stop there. The bird on top forced the upside-down bird underwater, drowning it in less than a minute.
Tree Swallows perch in small to large groups on telephone wires and fence wires. From that perch, they launch into an attack on unseen prey.
During haymaking times, Tree Swallows join Barn Swallows in swooping high and low in circles around the farmer’s mowing machine. They feast on the fleeing insects as the farmer cuts the alfalfa or mows a pasture field.
Come June, Tree Swallows will have taken up nesting from the midsouthern states to near the Arctic tundras. They winter along the southern and western coastlines in the United States and throughout Central America.
So, take heart. If the flashy Tree Swallows haven’t reached your area yet, be patient. Migration continues through early June.
It was a foggy morning to go birding. But this wasn’t any bird I sought.
For several weeks, a Crested Caracara, a bird common in Florida and Texas, had been seen off and on in the Broadway, Virginia, area. That was only a dozen miles from my home.
It wasn’t the first time I had tried for the bird. Then, it had flown off shortly before I arrived, where the Caracara had been spotted on more than one occasion.
I waited and waited, thinking the bird would return after the fog lifted. But it wasn’t to be.
While I had waited, however, I took a few photos of the landscape enveloped by the morning mist. The photo above shows both the fog and where the Caracara liked to perch.
The roadside fencerow in the foreground gave depth to the fog-enshrouded treeline in the background. I was happy with the image, even without my target bird.
My wife and I enjoy visiting her cousin and spouse in the Piedmont of North Carolina. They return the favor by visiting us in Virginia’s Shenandoah Valley.
We all enjoy many of the same types of retirement excursions, including the local history of areas we visit. We like antiques and thrift stores. And we all enjoy watching birds.
We ventured out to a state park a few miles from their home. While looking for early songbird migrants, we walked a short loop through a woods with moslty second growth trees.
Sprinkled in among the woods were remnants of former residences and farm buildings. Near them, this clump of daffodils had sprouted up, a spontaneous memorial to the people who planted them.
After all the snow we had, it was a pleasure to find a single blossom in full bloom.
The daytime temperatures in Virginia’s Shenandoah Valley have been above freezing for the last few days. Consequently, the melting of several inches of snow that fell three weeks ago has begun.
I ventured out in the late morning recently to do some birding. However, I ended up taking more landscape photos because the birds weren’t as active as I’d expected.
I found the topography southwest of Staunton especially captivating, with its rolling landscape, country estates along winding, narrow roads, and the snow-covered North Mountain range as a backdrop to the west. Beauty surrounded me in every direction.
In one location, a Red-tailed Hawk perched on a limb, posture focused downward in hopes of spotting an unsuspecting rabbit, squirrel, or field mouse. In another, a light-phase Red-tailed Hawk soared in the afternoon sunshine, sailing on thermals rising from the warming farm fields below.
White-throated Sparrows and Song Sparrows fed along the exposed roadside grasses and road grit, but scurried for fencerow brambles as my SUV rolled by at pedestrian speed. In the rural areas, traffic was scarce, allowing me to take my time and enjoy the scenery all around me. I stopped several times in the space of a quarter mile to inhale the fresh air, absorb the warm sunshine, and scout for any birds.
I marveled at the patterns in the diminishing snow. Polka dots of grasses surrounded by inches of snowy white speckled south-facing hillsides. Tractor tracks among corn stubble created abstract paintings. Farmsteads stood silent, as if in awe of the February thaw, painting their own Currier and Ives.
A Northern Mockingbird played hide and seek with me, playing hard to get. Darting in and out of roadside thickets, I managed a few photos of the tricky bird. American Robins launched from treelines to forage in the high grasses of pastures still dotted with snow.
Canada Geese gleaned for food in a wide-open pasture as the ice on a bordering creek gave way to the welcome warmth. I spooked a pair of Mallards enjoying pockets of open water when I stepped out of my vehicle. The geese ignored their quacking.
On the way home, I stopped at a city park along the North River where Long-tailed ducks had been reported. Instead, I found a few humans less interested in patterns in snow or waterfowl than me.
I walked across a footbridge to approach the riverside. At the other end, three seniors my age laughed and shrieked with one another, ignorant of the flock of Common Merganzers floating nearby. The birds quickly took flight.
On the way to my SUV, a trio of young boys threw sticks and pinecones at a small flock of Mallards foraging in the river’s shallows. I advised the youngsters that it’s wrong to disturb wildlife. They hung their heads until I passed by, and then continued their barrage. However, they fled when I turned around and stared at them.
Ironically, the best birds were the closest to home. The thaw substantially diminished the ice on Silver Lake, and the waterfowl basked in the afternoon sunshine. Redheads, Canvasbacks, Buffleheads, and Pied-billed Grebes swam and dove for food.
Best of all, six Tundra Swans stood on the thinning ice, preening in the sun’s warmth. It was a glorious six hours spent in communion with Nature and all her blessings.
This is an adult Tundra Swan. Tundra Swans can easily be confused with the larger Trumpeter Swans, especially since they often overlap in the winter migration locations.
Unless the two species appear together, it is hard to tell them apart. Adult birds are both white and have black bills. However, the bills of Trumpeter Swans are much larger, as are their bodies. Trumpeter Swans are the heaviest native North American bird.
There is one distinctive way to tell the difference between the two impressive birds. Tundra Swans sometimes have a small yellow spot at the base of the bill below the eye.
Note the small yellow spot just below the swan’s eye.
The problem is that not all Tundra Swans have this identifying mark. So, relying on expert birders to help make a defining identification is recommended. Using a reliable birding field guide should also help.
I hope you get to see both Tundra and Trumpeter Swans. If you do, I also hope they are together so you can tell them apart more easily.
The trio of graceful Tundra Swans on Silver Lake. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
We were about ready for dinner when a text from a birding group reported three Tundra Swans at Silver Lake. My wife turned off the stove burner, we dressed for the super cold weather, and out the door we went.
Located on the north edge of the small town of Dayton, Virginia, Silver Lake is a few minutes’ drive from our home. I approached the drive from the north, which afforded a full view of the lake.
A flock of dark colored ducks floated near the lake’s shallow north end. Fortunately, no vehicles approached from either direction. I slowed and soon spotted the large white swans in the middle of the lake.
Because it has been so cold for so long after the six inches of snow and sleet, there was little room to pull over for photos. However, I managed to pull on the ridge of plowed snow along the road so I wasn’t blocking the southbound lane.
The Tundra Swans were about 30 yards away. The two adults and one juvenile swam gracefully on the placid water. The young one kept feeding by tipping its head into the water and foraging on the underwater vegetation.
Their closeness let me capture a few decent photos with both my camera and my iPhone before the light faded further. Given the precarious position of my SUV, I didn’t want to linger long.
Satisfied with the photos, we headed home, turned on the stove’s burner, and enjoyed a steaming bowl of soup. It completed a satisfying evening.
The juvenile Tundra Swan dipped into the water to feed several times. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
My wife and I planned to meet some friends for dinner at a restaurant in the town where they live, 30 minutes south of our home. On the way there, I wanted to check a birding hotspot where several nice bird species had been seen and photographed.
We veered off our route a mile and a half to drive the narrow, hilly, winding Bells Lane. The road wound up, down, and around for less than two miles. Yet, the habitat varied greatly in that short distance.
The Blue Ridge Mountains serve as the backdrop for Bells Lane. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
As we climbed the first hill lined by brushy fence rows and trees, I spotted a small flock of Canada Geese foraging on the hilltop. Pastured hillsides with tuffs of tall grasses, dotted with a few large trees, roll away on either side of the roadway.
I didn’t dare drive too fast. There was too much to see. Tucked away in the swale of two hills, cattails ringed a small pond, perfect for shorebirds and waterfowl.
Since the day had been mostly cloudy and dusk was nearly upon us, I merely wanted to check out this popular birding spot. Still, I saw a Northern Harrier coursing over a rolling field heading away from us.
Of course, I stopped a few times to take photos of this stunning landscape, even in winter’s dormancy. Amber stocks of spent weeds infiltrated the rolling tan pasture fields. Dead thistle plants painted their own fencerow portraits.
Spent thistle. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
White-crowned Sparrows and White-throated Sparrows flushed from the roadside into the safety of nearby bushes. A Red-tailed Hawk perched on a precarious limb over another fallow field.
What surprised us most were the old, plantation-like farms we found along Bell Lane. The farm lanes were so long and lined with unkempt trees and vegetation that we could hardly see the homes and outbuildings. The settings literally oozed history.
Rounding a curve, we passed a gray-haired lady walking her black lab. On the left, a small pond stood, nearly hidden by the vines threading their way through the saplings and the wire fence.
Please click on the photos to enlarge them.
We crossed a small stream and were soon at the intersection back at the main highway. I was mightily impressed with the opportunity this country lane provides for bird watchers.
Without question, I will be back to Bells Lane. I’ll search for the Sandhill Cranes, Short-earred Owls, and any other birds, big or small. I’ll see what stories this curious road reveals as well.
I had company while taking photos of the spectacular sunset at Silver Lake in Dayton, Virginia. A lone female Bufflehead repeatedly dove in the calm, shallow water for food.
The diving duck did what it was supposed to do to survive. It dove and surfaced so frequently that small ripples created a corduroy effect across the southern section of the lake. The warm light of the setting sun transformed Silver Lake into a golden pond.
A female Bufflehead floated on Silver Lake. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
After an early morning lab test at the local hospital, I drove a couple of miles to a favorite lake that often affords decent birding. I found the bird I hoped would be there, a lone Sandhill Crane, plus I got a bonus.
The small lake lay east and west, with an opening to the east where the spillway falls into a natural ravine. The Blue Ridge Mountains in Shenandoah National Park are visible in the far distance.
As I began my search for the crane, the sun broke through a layer of low clouds. It wasn’t much, and it didn’t last long, but the mauve and orange caught my eye. It was a stunning but subtle scene.
Sunrise at Lake Shenandoah, Harrisonburg, Virginia. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
Once I found the bird and pointed it out to a trio of young birders, I headed home. I kept my eye on the sky in hopes of an even prettier sunset.
With high broken clouds, I decided to visit Silver Lake in the quaint town of Dayton, just a few miles from my home. I arrived with the sun still hanging low in the southwest.
At first, I wasn’t impressed. I was fearful that the clouds that often congregate over the Allegheny Mountains to the west in the evenings might spoil any chance of a nice sunset. However, I have learned to be patient after years of chasing sunrises and sunsets.
That’s been even more true here in the Shenandoah Valley. With mountain ranges to the east and west of the county, the sun takes its time to paint the sky. That’s exactly what happened.
Things were still dull in the west, but I looked behind me, and the clouds in the eastern sky blushed in warm tones. I drove to the other side of the lake to capture the reflections.
The old mill
When I arrived
Colors in the east
The south bank
The reds begin
Across the lake
The farm
The long view
Silhouettes
The reds peak
I no sooner arrived there when the western horizon burst with fiery hues. I returned to my original spot and snapped away.
I was most grateful for nature’s wondrous morning and evening displays that day. It pays to keep an eye on the sky.
One of several large ponds at the Celery Fields, Sarasota, Florida. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
I love birding. It’s one of my favorite hobbies, mostly because you can bird anywhere, anytime, including on family vacations.
My wife and I recently spent a week with our daughter’s family in Sarasota, Florida. That area is a birding paradise, with many parks, beaches, wetlands, and preserves that offer birding hotspots.
I knew I had to be considerate of what the others wanted to do. With three young adults, the beach would be a priority. So, I planned my bird-watching times accordingly so I could also spend time with family.
Since I preferred to bird in the morning, none of the others in our group of seven wanted to go with me, and I had no issue with going alone. I was sure to meet other birders on my outings.
While the others sunned on the beach, I had my binoculars at hand to try to identify the gulls and shorebirds I encountered. Of course, I listened for and watched a few birds near the house we rented for the week.
The designated preserves and parks provided the best birding opportunities. I headed to the area’s best birding spot, the Celery Fields in Sarasota. The county-owned marshland got its name because 100 years ago, celery was actually cultivated in the 400+ acre plots.
Today, the Celery Fields are a multi-purpose property for residents and visitors in the Sarasota area. The Celery Fields serve as Sarasota County’s primary flood mitigation zone. The county recognized the importance of preserving wildlife habitat, and today has an Audoban Visitors Center run by a score of dedicated volunteers.
The different habitat areas of the Celery Fields.
With areas of wetlands, mudflats, canals, ponds, a wide variety of marshland vegetation, and treelines, the Celery Fields attract several species of birds and wildlife. It’s a birding magnet for people like me.
I visited the Celery Fields three times, aiming to see my spark birds, the gorgeous Painted Buntings, the social Sandhill Cranes, and the attractive Roseate Spoonbills. I got to see those and much more.
I also checked out two preserves along the coast near Bradenton. The first was small, and the other massive. Both had the kind of small trees, tropical vegetation, and wetlands that attract several species of birds.
However, rainfall in Florida has been far below normal, and many areas of wetlands have dried up, forcing birds and other wildlife into small pools of water.
Still, I was able to see and photograph several bird species, and other animals, like an alligator and a snake. I’ll share those encounters in a separate post.
The Celery Field
The Celery Fields afforded the best opportunities to see a variety of wildlife up close via boardwalks, levees, and stone paths.
The place had changed significantly since my last visit years ago. An Audoban Visitors Center had been built to provide visitors with information and maps of the many walking and birding paths.
Bird feeders were strategically placed near the center, attracting several species of birds for a closer look. This included a handsome pair of Painted Buntings.
Volunteer naturalists were also available to answer questions and explain what was being seen. Ponds, canals, trees, bushes, and natural plants provided excellent habitat and cover for the birds and wildlife.
Beaches
Since it was the holidays and the weather was sunny and warm, the beaches were crowded. Consequently, I only captured a few photos.
Great Blue HeronGreat EgretFish CrowLove BirdsLaughing Gulls and Rock DovesGreat Egret
Please click on the photos to enlarge them.
The Preserves
I discovered the Ungarelli and Robinson Preserves after dropping off my oldest grandson at a golf course. Again, due to the lack of rain, the water levels at both places were very low, and some of the mudflats had hardened.
Still, bird species were plentiful, and the people I met were friendly and inquisitive about birds they saw but couldn’t identify. The binoculars dangling around my neck over my birding vest gave me away. It was a pleasure to help them learn about Rosate Spoonbills and Red-shouldered Hawks.
Like the Celery Fields, the Robinson Preserve was a multi-use facility. Kayakers, bikers, joggers, and dog walkers far outnumbered birders like me. That didn’t deter my enjoyment of the time spent there.
The highlight was discovering a large flock of American White Pelicans. I met a couple from Germany who equally enjoyed these fantastic birds. We watched as several pelicans flew into the flock, where many of them preened in the afternoon sunshine.
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