The Blue Moon rose above the Blue Ridge Mountains on May 30, 2026. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
The only Blue Moon of 2026 was set to rise near Harrisonburg, Virginia, at about 8:30 p.m. Saturday, May 30. Officially, it wouldn’t be 100 percent full until 3:45 a.m. Sunday morning.
So, I chose to try to shoot the moon, so to speak, Saturday evening. I wasn’t getting up at 3 in the morning to take a photo of the full moon. I have a hard enough time sleeping as it is. You’ll understand when you hit 78.
Old as I am, I still thrill at the sight of a full moon peeking over the horizon, whether it’s on the land or at sea. Perhaps the only difference is that a moon rising over the ocean casts a spectacular reflection if the water is calm.
A January full moon rising over the Atlantic Ocean left an hourglass reflection. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
Since we moved to Virginia’s picturesque Shenandoah Valley from Ohio nine years ago, I’ve learned that the moon evokes just as much magic as it sneaks over the Blue Ridge Mountains, which, in our area, is also Shenandoah National Park.
I checked a website that shows the time and direction of moonrise for any given area. It showed the moon rising in the southeast sky, which made sense as I thought about it. The sun and moon work in tandem. So, with the sun now setting in the northwest, the full moon would rise directly opposite at the same time.
That meant I needed to find a spot with a clear view to the southeast. With all the hills in the valley, that wouldn’t be too hard. However, I also had to account for power lines and cell phone towers. In Virginia, that’s easier said than done.
Unfortunately, I underestimated how far southeast the moon would rise. So, when I spotted its first glow over the park, I needed to drive to a better spot. Even then, I wasn’t clear of the infernal towers and strings of lines.
Nevertheless, I still managed to capture a few frames of the smallest full moon of the year rising above the bucolic valley. Not only was this full moon the only blue moon of the year, but it was also the farthest from the sun, which is appropriately called a micromoon.
As the moon edges over the horizon, whether at sea or on land, it appears bigger than when it is high in the night sky. That is merely an illusion; ironically, science has yet to explain why it occurs.
Dusk is not exactly the best time to photograph objects, especially moving ones. Still, I snap away and enjoy sharing the results with others.
A recently fledged American Robin. Photo Bruce Stambaugh
I knew American Robins were nesting in shrubs and trees around our suburban home in Virginia’s Shenandoah Valley.
Early on, I saw them gathering dried grass for nesting, and dipping it into one of the birdbaths I have set out. This softens the material, making it more pliable. Sometimes, during the same trip, they would sweep the wet grass into the soil around the birdbath and fly off to build their nests.
I never followed them for fear of discouraging them from nesting in the giant holly bush or concolor pine tree. Neither did I want the neighborhood cats, who too often roam my yard, to follow my scent to the trees. I learned the hard way.
An American Robin. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
When we lived in Ohio’s Amish country, American Robins, Northern Cardinals, and other songbirds would nest in the many shrubs and trees I had planted on our acre and a half. I would often check the nests I could reach to see the progress from eggs to fledglings.
I stopped doing that when I was on my third or fourth round of curiosity. I discovered the eggs or hatchlings were gone. Everything was fine before, so I wondered if my frequent visits allowed feral cats, raccoons, or other animals to follow my tracks to their lunch.
Consequently, I am more than happy to know that the birds are using the greenery around our property without prying into the state of the incubation. I think that strategy is working.
While doing yardwork, I can sneak a peek at the progress without getting too close. In a matter of days, babyblue eggs transform into fuzzballs with begging beaks, and then into chubby babies, and finally into fledglings.
One of the fledglings foraged for food beneath a birdfeeder. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
In the case of the robins, that’s when the show begins. Mom brings her surviving babies to the birdbath with the mini-waterfall or to feed beneath the seed-filled feeders for the seeds that sloppy eaters like the Common Grackles drop.
Mother robin shows the pair of juveniles how to peck and scratch for food. She sometimes jabs and overturns the mulch around the flowers and shrubs to uncover insects that provide her youngsters with needed protein.
Though they are nearly the size of their mother, the little buggers beg for food. So, mom obliges until she tires, and flies off to a dense row of evergreens, leaving the young birds to fend for themselves.
A young American Robin eyes the birdbath. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
They soon learn. I spot them standing in the birdbath, still as a statue, as if they are listening to the musical sound of water upon water. When a grackle suddenly appears, the young robins scamper for cover beneath the thriving peonies until it’s safe to return.
Though they call and call, neither mother nor father answers. The baby robins get the hint and peck away under the feeders or in the flowerbeds, just as their mother had modeled.
Once they complete their growth to adulthood, the spots on their chests will disappear, and they will begin the cycle all over again.
A pair of juvenile American Robins. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
According to Cornell University’s Ornithology Lab, an American Robin can produce three successful broods in one year. On average, though, only 40 percent of nests successfully produce young. Only 25 percent of those fledged young survive to November.
From that point on, about half of the robins alive in any year will make it to the next. Even though a lucky robin can live to be 14 years old, the entire population turns over on average every six years.
I hope the two young robins in my backyard beat the odds and have long, productive lives.
I always take my camera along on my morning walks in our neighborhood. This time of year, I never know what beauty I will encounter.
The morning sunshine brings out the truest colors of the various flowers grown in our housing development. These curbside Phlox caught my attention with the lavender glow.
Then I spotted the yellow spot, which I thought was a Sulphur butterfly hiding in plain sight. Upon closer inspection, the out-of-place color was the winded end of a fallen maple seed.
They are referred to locally as helicopter seeds. Even the slightest breeze propels the twirling seeds across the neighborhood landscape. It’s nature’s way of propagating maple trees and providing fresh, nourishing food for squirrels and other critters.
Hiding in plain sight. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
This particular seed happened to land in a bed of lovely spring flowers that nicely contrasted with the seed’s mode of mobility in the sunlit space.
Sunsets are a favorite subject for my photo shoots. I am mesmerized by the ever-changing colors, the illumination of pinks and blues on clouds from the north, south, east, and west. As the colors transform, so do the shapes and the clouds’ hues.
Living in Virginia’s bucolic Shenandoah Valley gives me plenty of opportunities for sunset shots in all four seasons. I try to capture as many sunsets as I can.
I stopped as soon as I saw this one at the bend of a country road, not a mile from my home. The silhouetted, bare walnut tree stood on the left, its arms reaching out in pure awe and appreciation of the unfolding beauty bathing the northwest sky.
It’s been a week since I took this photo. I participated in a group bird walk, and when I came upon this serene scene, it stopped me in my tracks.
The morning sun highlighted the tall hardwood trees elevated above a bend in the North River. Their leaves were still unfolding. The combination of the green grass and the fresh and tender leaves shouted “greening up,” a term used especially in springtime when landscapes come alive with new growth.
Clearly, in this photo, green is the dominant color, especially in the reflections on the river’s calm water. This is even though this area of Virginia is listed as being in extreme drought.
Now, a week later, all those leaves are completely unfurled. Is it my imagination, or is the “greening up” unfolding more quickly than in the past? In a little more than a week, the landscape has gone from mostly bare trees to full canopies, which seems a bit short.
Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
Regardless, nature does her thing, and we reap the eye-catching rewards.
You know it’s spring when farmers make their first cutting of hay. However, making hay at the end of April is unusual, even for Virginia’s Shenandoah Valley.
After a recent overnight rain, the warm temperatures and days of clear weather allowed farmers across the valley to make their first cutting of hay. The windrows of mown alfalfa created the intriguing patterns in the foreground, with Massanutten Mountain looming in the distance.
A Northern Flicker and an American Robin at the backyard birdbath. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
The key to attracting birds to your backyard is more than providing the food the various species need. Birds also require cover for protection and water to survive.
Choosing what to feed birds is easy. Wildlife stores, hardware stores, and businesses that cater to farming and other agricultural folks sell a variety of seeds, suet, and feeders needed for our feathered friends.
Homeowners are responsible for establishing the necessary habitat for protection, perching, and nesting. Planting a variety of native trees, shrubs, plants, and grasses helps to attract a wide variety of birds.
Too often, however, setting out water is overlooked as a necessary ingredient for birds. Water completes the avian trifecta for attracting birds.
Obviously, birds need water for hydration. And just like people, birds need water to keep themselves clean. Birds bathe often to maintain their feathers, rid themselves of dust and mites, and cool down in hot weather. Most birds prefer ground-level birdbaths, but some come to elevated ones.
A ground-based basinAn elevated birdbathA basin with a pump
Adding a small water pump, fountain, or even a small waterfall increases the likelihood of attracting birds to water, especially songbirds. Birds will hear the trickling sound and take that as an invitation to drink and bathe.
Different species have particular ways of drinking. Blue Jays gulp their water by tipping back their head and chugging it down. Mourning Doves are the opposite. They only dip the end of their beaks into the water and daintily sip until satisfied. Northern Cardinals take their time, seemingly enjoying their refreshing liquid.
Birds even use water to clean their beaks of residue, such as seed shells. American Robins bring nesting material to dampen it, making the straw or dried grass more pliable. But it is critical to keep the water and the birdbath basins filled and clean.
A gang of European Starlings can quickly empty a birdbath basin.
As larger birds like Common Grackles, American Robins, and Blue Jays bathe, they splash water out of the containers with their vigorous movements. It’s important to keep the water level full so the pump won’t burn up.
Birds tend to keep their nests neat. They carry fecal sacks containing their babies’ unwanted excrement. Unfortunately, Common Grackles are known to drop those gross sacks in the birdbaths. So, ensuring the birdbaths are clean and filled with fresh water is critical for keeping birds healthy.
Fall Cape May Warbler
Blue Jay
Gray Catbird
Female Northern Cardinal
American Robin
Chipping Sparrow
Female Purple Finch
Mourning Doves
White-throated Sparrow
White-crowned Sparrow
White-throated Sparrows
Cleaning birdbaths should be done regularly, following a few easy steps. Discard any water left in the bath. Sprinkle a powdery cleaning compound, such as Comet, around the bowl, and use a soft brush to scrub it around to remove any dirt, algae, or other residue. When finished, rinse that out, and refill the birdbath with clean water.
In addition to establishing bird feeders, providing water enhances birds’ attraction. Adding a small pump surrounded by mostly flat stones to create a gurgling sound also brings birds, both migrating and residents, to feeders and birdbaths. The stones provide perches for the smaller songbirds. If the water slows, the pump will likely need to be cleaned as well.
A Brown Thrasher cools off in the birdbath with a small waterfall. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
It’s best to remove the pump during the winter months to avoid freezing. The water can be kept from freezing by adding a birdbath heater.
Placing both feeders and birdbaths in locations easily viewed through a window lets you see the benefits of your efforts. In the end, the birds reap the rewards.
My wife and I spent the morning of our 55th wedding anniversary birding. That’s about as exciting as it gets for septegenarian celebrations.
Though spring bird migration had been ongoing for a month, the early warblers were only now beginning to be seen and heard in Virginia’s Shenandoah Valley. I wanted to see and literally hear those lovely, high-pitched songs. I know the term “literally” is overused, but this was my first bird outing with hearing aids.
I’m a very curious person, and I wanted to hear what I was missing in my latter years. Previously, I had to depend on the ears of younger birders to know, for example, that a Cape May Warbler was near. The bird’s thin, high-pitched “see, see, see, see” call was beyond my perception.
I knew March 27 was too early for the Cape May. But equipped with my hearing aids, perhaps I could catch the calls of other early-arriving warblers. So, off we went to a noted birding hotspot in Augusta County, Virginia, Bells Lane.
My wife occasionally accompanies me on my birding adventures, but she wouldn’t call herself an avid birder. I appreciate her company and enjoy showing her a particular species when I spot one.
Even though Bells Lane is in the city limits of Staunton, its geography and topography shout country. The narrow road meanders up, down, and around hills and valleys from a US highway to a state road. From its zenith, traffic buzzes north and south along I-81, though the noise barely reaches the beloved birding location.
With its proximity to the city, people use Bells Lane for other reasons. With only a handful of residents along its winding two-mile stretch, the narrow pavement is a safe place to jog, bike, or walk your dog, in addition to birdwatching.
When I pulled off the main highway onto Bells Lane, I opened the moon roof and lowered the windows, and drove at a snail’s pace. The air was cool, but fresh with the scent of apple blossoms and birdsong. I smiled with great pleasure at hearing multiple birds singing, and used the popular Merlin app on my iPhone to confirm my suspicions.
Birders are happy with such technological advances that can affirm or alert you to nearby birds. However, the combination of common sense and location tempers emotions when a rare bird is indicated.
Using their amazing ability to imitate other birds, Northern Mockingbirds are notorious for setting off frenzied searches for birds that aren’t there. I almost got caught doing that this time.
In the thicket of blooming redbuds and serviceberry bushes and old-growth trees, I caught a quick glimpse of a yellow and black bird zipping through the understory. An oriole, I thought, but which one? I didn’t see it long enough to identify it.
Much later on at the summit of Bells Lane, Merlin showed a Scott’s Oriole. I had never seen one, and wondered if that’s what I saw a half hour ago. That was unlikely, since a Scott’s Oriole’s territory is the southwestern United States.
One of several Northern Mockingbirds we saw. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
Then I saw it. A Northern Mockingbird sat atop a fence post, demonstrating its wide repertoire of songs. I immediately discounted the Scott’s Oriole sighting, but wondered how in the world the mockingbird knew the oriole’s song if it had never heard it.
We saw several Northern Mockingbirds as we wound our way along the bumpy road, with horse and cattle farms dominating the rolling landscape. At one stop, I could only see the top of what appeared to be a rather large house, well situated behind a wooded hillside.
Between the road and the house, birdsongs rang out as clear as day. I stood in awe and joy at being present in that moment, finally able to hear those glorious songs so well.
The underrated Field Sparrows dominated the avian chorus. Unfortunately, I couldn’t locate even one of the birds, though they had to be close to me. That’s the disadvantage of birding alone. My wife enjoyed the bird cacophony while reading in the SUV.
The low, gray clouds made photographing birds difficult.
Several times, I parked the vehicle and walked along the roadway. I met another birder who advised me that a flock of Ruby-Crowned Kinglets was foraging for insects 50 yards ahead on the left side of the road, where the underbrush thickened.
I quickened my pace, only to be stopped by the luxurious liquid sound of an Eastern Towhee. It was a male. The black hood with rusty sides and a white streak down its chest provided protective camouflage as it kicked and scratched among the dead leaves on the forest floor. I finally got a clear shot of it.
Farther up the road, I must have found a stray of the Ruby-crowned Kinglets. The lone bird flitted from limb to limb over my head, devouring insects.
Merlin showed a Pine Warbler calling, but I couldn’t find it. Pine Warblers are often among the first of their species to migrate back north after overwintering in the warmer southern states.
The young Bald Eagle on its perch. Photos by Bruce Stambaugh
As we reached the halfway point, we were at the summit of the ridge. A line of black Angus steers lumbered away from a small red barn down the pasture toward the road.
A snag of a tree stood just beyond the barn, and at the highest perch was a subadult Bald Eagle. Patches of white feathers against black revealed its age. It wasn’t a warbler, but I was thrilled to see it. The proud bird sat perfectly still, overseeing the valleys to its east and west.
Notorious for roosting in one location for hours on end, the young Eagle seemed oblivious to the cattle, the American Crows flying in the distance, and to me. I snapped away before retreating to my SUV.
The forecasted rain began to fall, gently at first and then more steadily. Our morning of birding had come to an end with perfect timing.
We headed back into town for lunch, having heard and or seen 43 bird species in a little over two hours. I anticipated warblers, but saw an eagle instead. It was an unexpected gift on our anniversary morning.
Two curious American Robins checked out the young Bald Eagle. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
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.
Roadkill Crossing 
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