birds – Page 2 – Roadkill Crossing

Ready. Set. Go!

It was ready, set, go for these two birds perched on a withered sunflower stalk.

Just as I hit the shutter button on my camera, the female Purple Finch decided to lung for the birdfeeder a few feet away. The American Goldfinch in the foreground soon followed.

I still liked the photo even though the Purple Finch is a bit blurry.

The Perfect Pose

American Goldfinch. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh

My wife and I did our fall cleanup around our house before the colder weather set in. The one item we left in place was a dried-up sunflower stalk near a hanging birdfeeder in our backyard flowerbed.

I hoped that the stalk would serve as a perch for the birds wanting to approach the birdfeeder. That’s precisely what has happened.

Several species of birds use the stalk either before or after going to the feeder filled with chipped and whole black oil sunflower seeds. So far, Northern Cardinals, House Finches, American Goldfinches, Blue Jays, and Carolina Wrens are some of the birds that use the withered stalk to perch.

The stalk is only a few feet from the house and near a window, giving me an excellent view of the stalk. The only drawback is that I have to photograph through the double-paned window with white grids. So, I have to get the right angle to avoid reflections from inside or from the white panes.

I happened to have my camera at the ready when this handsome American Goldfinch in winter plumage landed on the curve of the stalk and posed for several minutes. When the bird looked back at the feeder, I captured its perfect pose..

The Magnificent Northern Flicker

A peanut butter suet feeder hangs from the limb of the red maple tree in our front yard. I have a perfect view of it from my desk in the study.

Since the feeder is midway between our home and the street, the birds that visit the feeder are often cautious. People walking dogs, runners, and passing vehicles frighten the birds.

The neighborhood Cooper’s Hawk and Sharp-shinned Hawk also pose threats with stealth-like swoops at unsuspecting birds at the other nearby feeders. So, all the avian species remain on high alert.

On one recent afternoon, a striking male Northern Flicker was the lone bird at the suet feeder. First, however, it approached carefully. Male flickers have a prominent black mustache on both sides of their bills. It landed on a limb near the feeder and sat perched before it shimmied down the shady side of the tree trunk.

Soon, it moved closer, with part of its lovely, patterned body in the sun. It turned its head toward the feeder and quickly flitted onto it. The magnificent bird only took a few pecks of the suet before a car spooked it, and off it flew.

What’s It Like to Go Birding?

A Red-headed Woodpecker. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh

There’s a certain intangible satisfaction in birdwatching. That’s especially true when I venture out into the hills and valleys of Rockingham County, Virginia, the third-largest county in the Commonwealth.

That contentment only escalates when I have the opportunity to bird with others. My experience with birding in small groups has consistently found a friendly camaraderie.

I recently participated in an outing on a certified wildflower farm in the western part of the county. The ages of the 16 members in the bird walk ranged from teenage to octogenarian. Among them were both novice and expert birders, which always enhances the quality of the field trip.

Most birders are patient and obey the unwritten rules of the sport. Conversations, usually about birds, are hushed so the chatting doesn’t interfere with the overall birding experience.

Birders help others find the bird. That is not always easy, so patience and communication are essential.

The day started in the 30s as we walked down the farmer’s recently graded half-mile lane towards the creek that splits his acreage. With two consecutive dry seasons, the native Indian grass had overtaken the native seeded wildflowers.

The farm entrance
Birding at the creek
Up the drive we go
Beautiful sky
Through the tree line
Looking to the meadow
The creek
North Mountain
Along the property line
Varied habitat
Atop the ridge
Into the woods
The meadow

However, the grass provided excellent cover for the birds who use the dense grassy clumps for habitat. I was the last one to spot a field sparrow perched high on the six-foot-tall perennial. The birds feed on the rich seeds that form at the top of the grass’s yellow blades.

I only saw the bird that blended in with the tall prairie grass with the help of another birder, who was younger and had better eyes than I did. Using a tree in the far background, he lined me up and told me to follow the trunk down to just below the crest of the grass. Bingo. The bird was still there, posing.

We continued down to the creek, where small flocks of Cedar Waxwings, Eastern Bluebirds, and several sparrow species gathered nervously in the large creek-side sycamore trees. Another birder speculated that the waxwings must be thirsty from devouring all of the cedar tree berries.

Nearby, a Red-headed Woodpecker, one of the birds I had hoped to see, flew to an old standing dead snag punctuated with multiple holes. It was clear that the Red-headed Woodpeckers preferred this tree for nesting.

The bird landed in the morning sun on the east side of the snag and quickly disappeared. Good birders are patient. In a matter of seconds, the regal bird appeared at the very top of the dead tree, and just like the Field Sparrow, posed for a photo op. I couldn’t have been happier.

I turned around and a pair of Purple Finches perched on branches of the forested slope west of the Indian grass. They didn’t sit long enough for a photo, however.

Please click on the photographs to view them in full size.

We crossed the footbridge over the creek and trudged up hill and down, along the southern property fenceline. The wind had picked up, and the strong southerly flow kept the birds low and out of sight.

A few vultures, both Black and Turkey, took advantage of the strong winds and sailed overhead. A pair of Red-tailed Hawks joined them in the kettling, the gliding on the thermals around and around like an avian tornado.

At the top of the ridge, some of the birders broke off to return home or head to their workplace. The rest of us walked on, admiring the varying landscape, vegetation, and mix of deciduous and evergreen trees.

In less than a quarter of a mile, we had traversed through prairie grass, a few late-blooming flowers, grassy fields, and then into a second-growth woods. A Pileated Woodpecker’s deep-throated call echoed against the base of North Mountain.

After nearly three hours, we arrived back at the meeting place, tired but thrilled to be in the outdoors with gracious hosts and an excellent guide. In that time, we had seen or heard 33 species.

We were all pleased with that number for a chilly, windy day in Virginia’s Shenandoah Valley. Additionally, it was an excellent way to connect with nature and get some much-needed exercise, especially for those of us who are older.

Our birder group and the landscape we explored. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh

Birds of Autumn So Far

Brown Thrasher. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh

I have had only a few opportunities to go birding this autumn. Here are a few of the birds I’ve seen so far as the fall migration nears its end.

Click on the photos to enlarge and ID them.

Anatomy of a Sunset

I enjoy the progression of a sunset as much as the finale itself. I usually try to arrive well ahead of time, but I occasionally slip up. Like last Saturday, which was a busy one for us, I had settled in to watch a college football game.

I glanced out the front window, which faces north, and noticed a pinkish tinge in the broken clouds to the north. I grabbed my cameras and headed for one of my favorite sunset spots, Silver Lake in the burg of Dayton, Virginia.

A layer of clouds was slowly moving southeast, opening the western sky to the setting sun. The chances for a decent sunset seemed bright. The sun had already dropped below the rippling horizon of the Allegheny Mountains that mark the western boundary of Virginia and West Virginia.

Still, the sky was bright where the sun had disappeared. Areas north and south of that spot showed warmer colors. The shallow lake was its usual calm self, broken only by a few patches of lily pads, seaweed, and miscellaneous debris.

The reflections on the water doubled the beauty. At the south end is the old mill, which now houses a lovely quilt museum. Across the narrow country road stands an old white-washed farmstead, its barn duplicated on the quiet water.

The road turns west around an Old Order Mennonite family’s red brick home, and continues up the hill to another farm, where it bends due north across the ridge. The staggared trees along its edge provide a perspective of depth to each photo.

The road disappears over the hill and behind the old white farmhouse at the lake’s northwest corner. The house and outbuildings, all mirrored on the water, serve as icons in scores of photographs of the landmark lake.

As minutes pass, the tones of the sky grow deeper orange and red as they tint the underbellies of the clouds and brighten the water’s surface. The western sky turns golden with ruby crowns, all reflected on Silver Lake.

Every hilltop object, animate and inanimate, becomes a row of silhouettes against the blazing background. As if brushed by an artist, the clouds display an autumn color palette of browns, grays, and oranges with patches of reds and pinks, their twins staring back at them.

As if on cue, three mallards take flight, their calls seemingly celebrating the day’s glorious ending. Silver Lake never looked prettier.

Portland and Heading Home

Portland, Maine, harbor at twilight. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh

We neared Portland, Maine, our last stop on the cruise itinerary, at mid-morning. Our landing in Boston the next day was simply to disembark.

I was able to take several shots of the shoreline and the many inlets as we approached docking in Portland. I spotted the Ram Island Ledge Light Station, and was able to capture some acceptable shots of it. However, I forgot that it was directly across the water from the Portland Head Lighthouse. I could easily have photographed both, but my head was a bit fuzzy from the strong pain medication I was given. I rationalized that I already had some decent shots of that iconic lighthouse from a previous visit years ago.

The day began just like yesterday, in the ship’s medical center for another pain shot. The good doctor wanted me to go ashore to a hospital for CT scans of my ribs and head, since I had hit my skull in the fall. If we did that, it would be the end of our trip.

Cracked ribs weren’t a life-threatening condition, and Neva had checked my eye responses every two hours during the night, and I showed no signs of a head injury. Besides, we had already paid for transportation from the dock to the airport to catch our flight home. So we kindly declined.

Upon docking, we had to disembark for customs in Portland anyway. For some reason, we docked on the starboard side, so we had a perfect view of the harbor and downtown Portland. I took several photos while we waited for our group to be called to pass through customs. I heard and then saw an Osprey sitting on its nest that was built on the tallest one of the old wooden dock pilings.

The weather was perfect, and I felt well enough to walk through security and head to Commercial Street along the waterfront. We found a cafe, bought our decaf mocha lattes, and enjoyed the sights and sounds of a busy port.

From our sidewalk seats, we watched people board a narrow-gauge railroad and enjoyed the sounds of the whistle and the little steam engine chugging the train along the shoreline. A few minutes later, it backed its way into its parking location and waited for the next group of passengers.

We returned to the ship and, after dinner, enjoyed the evening activity of this special day. It was the Fourth of July, and a flotilla of boats big and small had anchored in the preferred spots offshore to watch the fireworks show.

We had the perfect view as the fireworks exploded just after dark. The booming sound echoed, and sparkling colors reflected off the harbor’s quiet waters. It was the most fitting conclusion to our land and sea cruise.

The next day was a hurry-up-and-wait kind of day as we rode the bus to the airport, made our way through TSA, walked to our gate, and sat for six hours. Fortunately, one of Boston’s best seafood restaurants was near our gate, and we had a yummy seafood lunch for our flight back to Virginia.

Thanks for traveling along with us, bumps and all.

We bid Boston farewell. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh

Early Summer Colors

Summer 2025 colors have not disappointed so far. We are only a month into the summer season in the Northern Hemisphere, and there have been plenty of opportunities to photograph her vibrant palette of hues and tones.

Here are two sets of my favorite representations of this brilliant calidoscope.

Landscapes

Please click on the photos to view them in full size.

Flowers

Zinnias.
Zinnias.
Rose of Sharon
A Holly Blossom.
Summer’s Beauty for worship.
Honey Bee on Swamp Milkweed.
Summer flowergarden.
Bee Balm.

In Search of Mountain Laurel

Mountain Laurel blossoms. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh

I went for the birds and the blossoms, but forgot about the bugs. They didn’t deter me, however.

My neighbor had told me that the Mountain Laurel bushes were blooming at various locations in Shenandoah National Park, just a short drive from my home. The laurel blooms from late May into mid-June, depending on elevation.

Of course, I had to see for myself. I fixed a hiker’s lunch, packed my binoculars, camera, and a couple of jackets, and headed out. It’s often 10 degrees or more cooler in the mountains than in the Shenandoah Valley, where I live.

I didn’t need to bother with the jackets. The temperature was 70 degrees when I arrived, and it was humid, with little to no breeze. It was 79 when I left.

A small black bear cub greeted me not long after I entered the park. Fortunately, it scampered back off the old stone wall away from the road and into the forest.

I soon reached my first destination. Just a short distance off Skyline Drive, I reached the Appalachian Trail, which crossed a fire road. I didn’t see any Mountain Laurel, but songbirds were plentiful. So were the knats and mosquitoes.

A male Eastern Towhee. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh

I strolled along the AT, swatting at the pesky bugs and trying to locate the many warblers I was hearing and recording on my smartphone’s birding app. Singing its unmistakable “drink your tea” melody, a male Eastern Towhee posed for a photo on a limb hanging right over the trail.

I met a lone through-hiker from South Carolina. She hoped to reach Mt. Kadadhin in Maine by mid-September. She told me she had passed many stands of Mountain Laurel on her hike so far, which began at the Appalachian Trail’s traditional starting point, Springer Mountain, in Georgia.

She headed north while I retraced my steps to my vehicle. The birdsong was terrific, but the forest’s full foliage made it challenging for this old guy to spot the warblers as they flitted from one branch to another, munching on their insect smorgasbord.

Besides, my main goal was to photograph the blooming Mountain Laurel. I followed my neighbor’s directions to another section of the AT, where the Mountain Laurel was so prolific that it formed a floral tunnel.

The laurels were in all stages of blooming, from tight pink buds to hexagonal flowers in full bloom. In places, the sun filtered through the forest canopy, highlighting the beauty before me.

The laurel blooms offered no fragrance, and I never saw an insect of any kind on any of the hundreds of blossoms. There was a good reason for that. As pretty as the prized flowers are, they are poisonous to any living creature. Every part of the plant is toxic.

So, if someone offers you Mountain Laurel honey, politely decline. Merely enjoy the flowers with their evergreen leaves. If you go, make sure you take your favorite bug spray.

Mountain Laurel grows along the Skyline Drive in several locations. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh

A Morning Walk in the Woods

Where I walked. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh

After an 8 a.m. doctor’s appointment, I took a long and much-needed walk in the woods. It happened that the doctor’s office was adjacent to one of my favorite places in the Shenandoah Valley.

The Edith J. Carrier Arboretum on the James Madison University campus in Harrisonburg, Virginia, is a life-giving oasis among 21st-century din. There, birdsong, blossoms, and the verdant forest provide a temporary sanctuary from life’s bustling and boisterous busyness.

To be sure, you still hear the sirens, the traffic’s hum on the interstate that cuts the campus and town in half, the train horns, even the airliners cruising into airports two hours away.

The forest canopy covers you with its sacred, healing goodness. It’s life’s true purpose. Use your senses to enjoy the rapturous unfolding.

A late-migrating Wilson’s Warbler flits and feeds on insects deep in the recesses of dense elderberry bushes. Wood Thrushes sing their multiphased cheery song in the shadows of the mixed deciduous woodlots. American Robins scold one another as they defend their nesting territory.

A Wood Thrust sheltered in the shade of a hickory tree. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh

A slight mist rises from the forest floor, beckoned by the strengthening morning light. White-breasted Nuthatches, Eastern Wood-Pewees, Tufted Titmice, Northern Cardinals, Carolina Wrens, and Song Sparrows fill the wooded ravine with glorious, variegated tunes. A Red-bellied Woodpecker’s vocalization echoes deep from the hillside woodlot while an American Crow sails through the trees, cawing from one perch to the other.

Each in their own way, joggers, birders, parents with toddlers, grandparents, and college students enjoy this preserved paradise. Time in the arboretum is an equal opportunity home with a smorgasbord of enjoyment. Some are passing through. Some are exploring the flora and fauna. Others simply sit, look, listen, and smile.

A lone rhododendron holds onto its precious purple blossoms along a wood-chipped path in the shade of the congregation of hardwoods. Here and there, morning light filters through the giants’ canopy, speckling the forest floor.

The broad leaves of huge hosta plants invite you to explore, hike, relax, reflect, listen, and admire all that nature has to offer. A well-located bench beckons you to sit a spell and breathe in the cool freshness before summer’s heat and humidity arrive.