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"Let's celebrate," said one Sulphur to another. "We've got the place to ourselves!" But the reply came back - "Not now, farmer boy, you're too late." Or so I can imagine.

Bren looked at the two butterflies above as they fluttered skyward near the south beach and assumed they were Monarchs – and with good reason. They do give off a significant tint of orange and black.  But if you click on the image and look closely you will see they are Sulphurs and the orange tint is a sign that they are probably Alfalfa Sulphurs, not the Clouded Sulphur I had assumed they were. (The Alfalfa Sulphur is also known as the Orange Sulphur.) I believe the top one is a female and the other is a male and I think she is trying to get away from him, but it is pure assumption on my part that it is because it is too late in the season to mate.

On amore general note, it looks like the summer visitors have left and the place belongs to the natives once again. At least, that’s the way it seems. Truth is, the campers have pretty much abandoned the Horseneck camp ground – hmmm . . . maybe it’s closed now?  The shore bird populations certainly seems to be changing, though I really don’t know for sure yet who’s a transient and who stays on, but I am pretty sure about the Monarchs – they’re all but gone.

What I consider Monarch Haven – the goldenrod  in the patch of ground between the marsh and the south beach, didn’t have a single Monarch on it Tuesday afternoon when Bren and I and Eliza and Higgins passed through – but it had a wealth of Sulphurs.  They’re the ubiquitous yellow butterfly that we frequently see just about anywhere on Gooseberry, basking in the Sun with their wings folded . Only, I never really took note of the patterns on their unfolded wings – quite glorious – and not only that, it turns out there are three different varities that I may have been seeing all along and didn’t know it.

But before getting to the Sulphurs – and they’re quite a clan – I wanted to  share a few shots of the last stand – or last hang out – of the Monarchs. It really is incredible to see these guys on a cool October morning before they have had a chance to heat up their little engines.  I was out there October 7  with my friend Don Douglas – it was about 45-50 degrees –  and here’s what we saw.

Count 'em - there were a baker's dozen jammed on the top of one Goldenrod plant - and there were several batches like this, plus some in pairs and singles. In the space of 10 minutes we easily saw 50, though that was about half what I had seen a day or two before.

More Monarchs hanging out in the cool morning air.

They seemed oblivious to visitors walkingup for a close look - but then, most of them couldn't fly. Their bodies simply weren't warm enough yet.

OK – so the monarch will still be out here as a few stragglers head south, but I think the big wave has passed. Still, the more-or-less permanent residents – which includes some of the Sulphurs – seemed to be in greater numbers than usual. Maybe it was simply the time of day and the temperature – and maybe I just didn’t pay them enough attention when the Monarchs were here. But there were over a dozen seen in about 10 minutes and that was downright pretty. Their flight is a little easier to follow, though I had never gotten a close look – or a picture – of their spread wings before and  at first it threw me a bit.  Here’s what I’m used to seeing when it comes to the Clouded Sulphur.

This is the underside of the Clouded Sulphur wings - the way we frequently see them. They're quite distinctive and can be white, a pale yellow, or have an orange or greenish tinge. Notice this one is competing with a bee for the Goldenrod nectar.

Looking at the underside of the wing there is only the faintest hint of what’s topside.  But I was lucky and caught a few in flight, including this one. (The yellow ones can be either sex – the Clouded Sulphur that tends more to white is a female, but females can be yellow as well. )

Clouded Suphur in flight. Notice the black trim on the wings with spots in it? That indicates a female, male's black trim is solid. It's quite a beautiful beastie!

OK, back to that first picture.  The Stokes butterfly book says that when you see a pair in rising flight it is usually a male trying to seduce a female and the female is saying no by going higher.  In this case the topside utterfly has black trim with spots, so I would say it is the female,w hile the one below it has black trim that is solid,s o it’s a male.

But what get’s really interesting is the way the Clouded Sulphur female can reject a suitor of a slightly different variety – the Alfalafa or Orange Sukphur.  Butterflies can see ultraviolet light – we can’t. And the male Alfalfa Sulphur reflects much more ultraviolet light then the male Clouded Sulphur does.  Yes, they could mate – and that’s what can make identifying butterflies complicated!  The more I look at the pictures of the Clouded Sulphur vs the Alfalfa the more ocnfused I get The third one that might be up here, but is far more common in the South, is the Dog Face Sukphur and that has a distinctive black pattern on the wing that outlines what some see as a dog face.   (Thanks to “The Butterfly Book” by Donald and Lillian Stokes/Ernest Williams for this explanation!)

Radiating in ultraviolet, a male Alfalfa Sulphur pursues a female .

Here’s a closer look at the Alfalfa Sulphu – I think. This is a male and to me has an orange tint.

Male Alfalfa Sulphur - note the solid black trim on the wings.

Ruff! Ruff! Eliza and Higgins, our Cockapoos, would  like this next butterfly the best!

OK, and here are a couple more Sulphurs - but which?

I thought the top butterfly pictured abovc might be the Dog Face Sulphur because the black wing pattern seems more complex than I expect in the Clouded or Alfalfa Sukphur – but I am not at all sure. The Dog Face really does have a distinctive pattern and this just doesn’t quite make it. Maybe it’s a hybrid?  Well, there are two here – enlarge the picture by clicking on it for a better look. The lower one is a male and there my certainty ends. And here’s a second picture of the same two.

That's the one with the more complicated wing pattern on the lam off to the left.

There are other Sulphurs as well, but these two – or three – seems to be the ones we would expect to see here. As I do a web search and find all the variations and confusing pictures – and perhaps erroneous designations – I start to question my own sanity. Why not just sit back and enjoy them. Not everything has to be labelled to be appreciated!

So check out this last sequence, taken near the towers. In it we get a white variation and I think it’s another female/male “hit the road Jack”  encounter. But you decide.

Sulphur

Sulphur - note how white it gets as wings open.

Sulphur encounter.

No date!

Sulphur - so much to know, so much more to experience! What a planet!

]]> http://gooseberryjournal.wordpress.com/2011/10/14/change-of-command-summer-visitors-give-way-to-natives-monarch-to-sulphur/feed/ 2 Greg Stone IMG_2392 IMG_1873 IMG_1887 IMG_1891 IMG_2421 IMG_2380 IMG_2392 IMG_2394 IMG_2395 IMG_2396 IMG_2422 IMG_2423 IMG_2424 IMG_2425 IMG_2426 http://gooseberryjournal.wordpress.com/2011/10/06/now-thats-a-monarchy/ http://gooseberryjournal.wordpress.com/2011/10/06/now-thats-a-monarchy/#comments Thu, 06 Oct 2011 16:16:28 +0000 Greg Stone http://gooseberryjournal.wordpress.com/?p=1347 ]]> Only who’s in charge?

This was my favorite scene on Gooseberry this morning – eight beautiful Monarchs sharing a small area of Goldenrod as they fueled up during their long trek to Mexico.

Monarchs on Gooseberry path near south point. Click image for a larger view.

Same Monarchs - just a little different arrangement

At first I thought the top guy was flying upside down - but if that were the case his wings would be paler - I think this is just the down stroke and he has his body bent upward. (For the underside of the wings look closely at the the first two pictures - there are at least two Monarch in those with their wings folded.)

OK - what I saw most of the time was a lovely combination of beach, ocean, blue sky, and Monarch.

As i walked the path they kept popping up and flitting away in all directions.

And you just couldn't count them because you were never sure if you were counting the same one, two or three times - but I would guess I saw 50 in a 10 minute stretch - though during most of my hour-long walk there were far fewer.

They were concentrated at the south end - probably, as a friend suggested - because of the north wind.

Oh - and they weren't entirely alone. I did see this beautiful Clouded Sulfur.

And you might encounter then anywhere - but just one at a time - including on the causeway.

But first, this Northern Flicker which came barrelling down the causeway as I headed out. The morning Sun caught him beautifully.  I say “him” because of the black mustache – the females doesn’t have this, of course.  (Click any image for a larger version.)

Northern Flicker - They come in two flavors - yellow shafted and red shafted - guess which one this is!

In typical woodpecker fashion, he flaps, then glides, making his flight easy to spot by it’s series of dips. When gliding he looks downright bullet-like.

Northern Flicker - or speeding artillery shell!

OK – my surprise of the morning was when this Merlin (I think) popped out of the brush as I walked down the central road near the towers. I had only a rough sense of something big and falcon-like and I was lucky to grab this first shot.  If you’re like me, you don’t want to know this, but yes, Merlin’s have to eat too and the reason he only flew a realtively short distance down the road was he was carrying his breakfast with him. So you can zip past this next photo if it bothers you – the remaining ones may be helpful if you’re interested in trying your hand at  Merlin identification.

Merlin

Why do I think it’s a Merlin?  Because he gave me two more chances to take pictures – the second chance was a complete disaster. The auto-focus was fooled by the brush as he skimmed and weaved just above it.  It was still fooled in the third series, but while the focus is soft, the identifying features are clear.

Merlin - look carefully and you'll see the heavy speckling on the breast - especially if you click on the image and view the larger version. There's also a hint of buffiness near the tail.

Merlin - note the scallop pattern on the underside of the right wing and the terminal white stripe on the tail.

This view stuck in my mind as I continued walking, for the pointed wings screamed "falcon." When comparing the Merlin and Kestrel, Dunne says the Merlin's wing is "shaped more like an isosceles triangle." That sure seems to fit the wings we see here.

OK, here's what gets me, though. Sibley shows a black tail with thin white stripes. This seems like a buff-colored tail with black stripes - more like the Peregrine. So you need to look closely at the two preceding photos. Look alittle different? I guess it depends on how the light ctaches it because this is the same bird, I'm sure.

Two things have me puzzled. First is the tail pattern that shows in the pictures.  The second is a sense at the time of this being larger than what I expect a Merlin to be – more Peregrine size. I have seen both the Merlin and Peregrine on Gooseberry, but this does seem to fit the description in Pete Dunne’s book – “large head, stocky body, and shortish tail.”  Dunne also says that the Merlin “often allows closer approach before retreating.”  That fit this bird’s behavior. I was surprised it didn’t just leave – especially the second time it flew.

Bottom line – my vote remains in favor of the Merlin, but if anyone can shed some light on this for me, please feel free to use the comments form at the end of this post!

I don’t want to tempt the Merlin, but this was a good day for small birds as well and I’m quite sure there were some good ones I couldn’t identify, but my favorite is an old friend, the Yellow-rumped Warbler. Now that I can identify!

Yellow-rumped Warbler.

Yeah, it's yellow, but you don't have to get too personal about it!

Another familiar friend caught in an unfamiliar pose – flying – was this Eastern Phoebe. The Phoebe is easy to spot sitting on a low branch, then suddenly darting out to catch flying insects – but I’ve had a hard time up until now in getting an inflight photo because the flights are quick and irregular.

Phying Phoebe - sorry, couldn't resist Quite good form, though, and I love that pale, yellow underbelly.

The White-throated Sparrow is an old friend I’m used to seeing in winter.  This is one of the tan variety – that is some stripes that are normally white are tan.

White-throated Sparrow.

White-throated Sparrow.- shows it's flying form - and maybe something about the lack of depth of field at this lens setting! Hmmm . . . it was F8 and the shutter speed was 1/640th of a second - so are his wings moving that fast?

Meanwhile, there were several more flickers in the area near the parking lot, so I got some more pictures of their flap-flap-flap — coast-down-hill flying style. After one of those dives they do seem to have a bit of trouble suddenly jamming on the brakes. Need some reverse thusters!

Flicker - note the white rump.

Flicker, banking and turning with an eye towards a landing twig.

Flicker - you suppose the name somehow comes from this flying form - sort of like flicking something? I'd give this a 10 for style!

But he really didn't stick the landing - he closed up for a moment right after this picture was taken, then almost immediately repeated this.

Looks quite proud of himself, though, once he found his twig.

And who is here to be “King of the Road” today? Why the Monarch, of course. Saw five or six in the course of an hour’s walk, I hope we’ll get a whole lot more over the next four or five days.

Yeah, that's the road at the north end of the causeway and that's the Monarch - not really a great place to be warming his engines, but it was a chilly morning.

Actually, I saw the most Monarchs out on the path to the east of the towers – that is, take the central road and don’t take the fork to the right that  goes to the towers – keep going straight – out that way I’ve seen the bulk of the Monarchs.  Here’s a shot of one out there this morning.

Monarch showing the form that will take him to Mexico by November - we hope!

First, the Monarchs are starting to arrive on their incredible trip to Mexico and I was able to catch this one in midflight and morning sun.

Second, here was a little puzzle for me  - who’s the guy leading these three Ruddy Turnstones through a wave? As it is, they’re in a pretty good finger four formation as used by fighter planes. If this were a scene from a WWII movie we’d probably call him “Red One,”  as in “hey Red One, do you see that wave ahead?”

Pete Dunne and Sibley came to my rescue here. He’s not Red One, he is a Red Knot!  (My apology for the bad pun in the headline, but what’s with that name “knot?” Anyone know?) This puzzle actually started a little earlier when I snapped several shots of what I assumed at the time was a juvenile Black-bellied Plover.  But when I looked at the shots at home I discovered I had a pretty plain bird with a bill significantly larger than the Black-bellied Plover’s.  That was yesterday afternoon and I was  wandering out near the southwest point. Here’s what I saw. Quotes about the Red Knot are from “Pete Dunne’s Essential Field Guide Companion,” my favorite bird book because somehow Dunne manages to give me more assistance using words than even Sibley does with his wonderful illustrations.

"Body is elliptical and held horizontal making a distinctly humpbacked profile."

"Where Sanderling retreat before the oncoming wave, Red Knot commonly lets the wash roll up to its belly . . ."

So yes, that is a Red Knot leading three Ruddy Turnstones in the intial flight pictures over the waves. Dunne mentions that turnstones are one of the birds the Knots socialize with, but appearing to lead a flight? Seems a bit above and beyond socialization.

And while many of the shorebirds breed in the arctic and come by here on their way to and from the breeding grounds,  the Red Knot can stay the winter, though most of them, according to Dunne, “winter in extreme S. South America . . .”  So this little dude really does travel from one end of the Earth to the other. Simply incredible.

Monarch over northeast beach.

Yet, the Red Knots travels don’t leave me in as much awe as the  Monarch butterflies’.  As I understand it, these frail and goregeous creatures have an amazing cycle of four generations a year. The fourth generation winters in Mexico and when it comes out of a sort of hibernation, it flies north briefly and lays eggs and so generation one is hatched, frequently in our southern states. Generations two and three may get born farther north. Each of these generations lives about 8 weeks – from egg to caterpillar to adult butterfly – and it is the fourth generation that amazes.  That generation, born in the fall, makes the journey south to Mexico – feeding and getting much fatter enroute. They live off this fat during the winter, then emerge to go a bit north, lay eggs, and die. So one generation out of four lives much longer than the others and follows a complex behavior that is somehow packed into that butterfly brain!

This fourth generation is what is starting to arrive at Gooseberry now and should peak about the first or second week of October when I’ve counted more than 100 in a 45 minute walk. By November they’ll be on their wintering ground. Yesterday I saw 15 – and what surprised me is they all seemed to be flying north – away from the island – despite a pretty brisk northwest wind.  Then this morning I photographed another  - and that was a surprise because the temperature was 48 – technically too cold for them to fly. At such times you usually see them hanging on plants, frequently with their wings spread. This one, however, was hanging on the end of the house right at the start of the causeway – obviously soaking up solar energy to warm  its little engine.

Of course my walks weren’t all about Red Knots and Monarchs – they were the highlights, but it continues to  amaze me how, out of each little walk, Gooseberry opens up new sights for me – or new angles on old sights.  One of the first things that caught my eye out near the towers was this little Eastern Phoebe doing it’s fly catching routine – and there were some nasty flies out that needed some catching – but I had a heck of a time trying to catch it in action. I should have used a higher shutter speed!

OK – that leaves me a goal for another day.

At first I didn’t know what I had here, but as I lightened the shadows the underside came out and I decided it was a young Laughing Gull.

I really have to spend more time out here on the south beach – the wave action is nice and so are the birds. In fact, it was the combination (waves and cormorants) that caught my eye here. I also like the view of Cuttyhunk in the background.

Moving around to the northeast beach, I found the Semipalmated Plover which has a terminal case of the cutes!

Does this look huggable? Like a child's stuffed toy?

And with two you get a double dose of cute!

Remember what Dunne said about the Red Knot – that it’s head was a little too big for the body and its eyes a little too big for the head and the legs a little too short for the bird?  Think of those things as you look at these pictures of a lone Black-bellied Plover – not a Knot.

This morning I got to Gooseberry early and was surprised to see the Monarch butterfly whose picture tops this post. There wasn’t much action on the causeway, except my usual friend, the perky little  Semipalmated Sandpiper, scooting along just above the surf on the ocean side.

Then out at the parking lot I spotted a bird watcher who was tuned into the warblers in the brush just south of the  lot. I saw this one as I started down the central trail.  Warblers don’t stay in one place long, and they can easily get lost in the branches, though the morning sun certainly highlighted this Common Yellow Throat female very nicely.

As I walked out there wasn’t too much action, but the sky was pretty yielding a colorful Sundog to the south of the sun the required 22 degrees – the result of ice crystals in high clouds. I couldn’t see it’s partner on the north side of the Sun – just no clouds there – but as I turned to the west a beautiful waning Moon was showing above the towers.  I find that some folks who visit my backyard observatory are surprised to learn the Moon is visible during the day time.  It is – every month. It’s easiest to see in the late afternoon sky when near first quarter – and in the early morning sky during or near last quarter.

And speaking of the towers, I had a chance to speak a second time to the folks who were sealing the entrance. They confirmed – with some added details – that the person who fell recently fell about 15 feet while climbing inside the tower – not while climbing the outside as had been reported in the local paper.  The entrance way is now sealed.

On the way back I paused in the parking lot to watch the antics of  laughing Gull diving repeatedly at the water and barely skimming the surface – very tern-like. I assume there were small fish there. At times he looked like he was walking on water.  He seemed to stir up the interest of a couple Ring-billed gulls that were nearby – and near the end a Cormorant came in for one of his patented landings – honestly, these guys have the role of court jester down pat!The Laughing Gulls black wing tips, white trailing edge on wing, white tail, and grey head are good identifying marks. (During breeding season the head will be black.) The Ring-billed can look similar in the air, but is obviously a lighter gray and – of course – has a ring around its bill.

I had a Semipalmated Sandpiper scooting along near the causeway on the way out – on the way in it was this lone Semiplmated Plover scooting just above the waves.

As noted – near the end of the causeway was the Monarch butterfly and just as I neared my car this beautiful tern flew over and – well – I have to admit, I’m really not sure what kind of tern it is. I need to work on these more. Heck -please keep in mind, I am just learning as I go. I think my identifications are correct – but I welcome comments and suggestions from those who know better!

Click image for larger version - please!

How can I explain it? Yes, this is about a new camera – but much more. As I examined these pictures on my computer – the first taken with my new CAnon EOS Rebel T2i, I found myself transported to a new level. Oh don’t get me wrong. I’m not bragging about the pictures, nor trying to sell Canon cameras. In the final analysis neither is important. What’s important is they suddenly gave me one of those break-through moments – one of those quantum leaps of insight where you reach a new, and frustratingly ineffable, level.  In short, they made me appreciate these shore birds I’ve been photographing lately in ways that had escaped me before.

I have always considered myself a casual birder – one who likes to know whose environment he’s sharing at any given moment, but I don’t go out walking to see the birds, nor is taking photographs my main goal. My goal is always the same – to somehow shake the sleep-walking mode that seems to dominate my life and move to a level of much deeper awareness. I know no magic formula for achieving this and I really didn’t expect it to come through application of new technology – but it did on this trip.  What has taken me by surprise – and I suspect it has been building for a while and just broke – is that I am really, really fascinated by the birds and particularly fascinated by their flight patterns as captured by the high shutter speeds and “burst mode” of the Rebel where 3-4 high resolution pictures are taken each second.

The result is that their poetry of motion gets frozen in time and you can study it line by line – feather by feather. I suppose if you also know a little bit about the dynamics of flight – how airplanes do it – then it might help. You can see flaps, and ailerons, rudders and elevators all at work and all wonderfully controlled by what we are silly enough to call in a disparaging way, bird brains.

I had had the capability to capture this to some extent with the original Rebel – but it also had a frustrating flaw. It had great difficulty in focusing on a fast-moving bird. What happened all too often was when I aimed at a bird in flight the camera’s auto-focus just went crazy, zooming in and out and I lost sight of the bird entirely, seeing nothing but a blur in the viewfinder. I developed several work arounds but they worked around the problem sporadically.  Then the original Rebel went black and so I rushed out to get a new one, having crammed on reviews overnight.  It was a painful expenditure I really didn’t want to make. But when I came home and looked at this first batch of pictures, taken on a walk this afternoon, the pain vanished and a deep joy set in – not simply because the camera did it’s job and did it very well – but because the pictures brought me insights into the lives of these birds of Gooseberry,as well as a deep sense of awe and joy.  You can’t put a price tag on that!

I don’t say it will do the same to you. You may find them boring.  But I post them here for my own enjoyment and with the hope that some others will find them – the birds – awesome as well.

Right out of the box the first thing I wanted to try was some pictures of a bird in flight just to see how the new Rebel handled the focus issue.  Afterall, there was seven years of rapidly advancing technology between my first Rebel and this one. I’d say the new camera got an “A” on the first “quiz,” a blackbacked gull that cruised effortlessly down along the bay side of the causeway on a brisk southwest wind. I quickly grabbed several shots. Here are two. As with all images in this post, I think they are more pleasing when enlarged. Simply click on any image to get a larger version.

Great black-backed sails by.

Focus seemed to hold pretty well at different distances - and yes, I think gulls are awesome.

That was a satisfying start.  Though I didn’t examine my results at the time,  what I saw in the viewfinder seemed to indicate success. I  moved on and at the other end of the causeway I encountered  some semipalmated sandpipers crusing just above the wave line.

Semipalmated sandpipers.

And they were followed by my first encounter of the day with ruddy turnstones – though I must say it was low tide and the beach was teeming with life – unlike the day before when the tide was much higher at the time of my visit.

Ruddy Turnstone lining up a landing approach. Yes - the plumage is changing some, but still very beautiful. (And yes, this is the same picture as at the top, but it's part of a sequence, so I wanted to repeat it. )

Ruddy turnstone in glide - I think of this as flaps down mode.

Ruddy turnstone encounters a little traffic - a semipalmated plover on the runway ahead. No problem!

Ruddy turnstone - ok captain, landing gear down and locked!

You can almost here the engines straining as the thrust is reversed for slow down - aren't his markings gorgeous?!

Another safe landing - now just taxi over to the terminal . . .

What comes next? Really, this is one of those quick-draw things. I’m in one of my favorite shorebird areas – the rocky northeast beach and it is low tide and this means to expect the unexpected. In this instance out of the corner of my eye I caught something much larger than what i had been seeing suddenly taking off. These images aren’t as sharp as I like – there was really no time to focus on focusing but theys erve one of my primary purposes which is to photograph anything even a little unusual so i can later identify it.  This series does the trick. I’ll leave the answer to the end, just in case you want to test your skills.

Hmmm , , , think I’ll put a little poll at the end.  I’ll number each of the images below.  When you feel you have identified this mystery bird, note which number image sealed it for you. Then take the poll.  (Remember – you can click on any image for a larger version.)

1 - Take off of something that looked larger than the sanderlings and semipalmated plovers and sandpipers I had been seeing. Probably a bit larger than the ruddy turnstones as well.

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

The first clue to this bird was the size. The second was the mottled black on the underside – it is between breeding and non-breeding plumage. Another clue was the black in the arm pits – which remains even when completely changed to non-breeding plumage.  what I learned from examining these and “The Sibley Guide to Birds” closely was how to be sure it is not an American Golden Plover. Standing they can look much the same. In flight the white tail is a giveaway. Both top and bottom are white – with the American Golden Plover they are dark.

OK – not all birds fly well all the time. Sometimes they’re downright ungraceful. And sometimes they’re just fun.

Hey buddy - you want to see aneta way to keep your feet dry when the waves come in? Watch!

First you line up very carefully so as not to get your toes wet - timing is everything.

And you hop! That's all there is to it.

This next sequence is again of the ruddy turnstone.  These images are from behind and I believe show the wonderful pattern of the top side of their backs to good advantage. You also can watch the maneuvering of the various “control surfaces.”

Ruddy Turnstone.

Ruddy Turnstone - touch and go landing.

Ruddy Turnstone.

Ruddy Turnstone - looks like the elevator (tal) is being twisted just a little to maintain balance - something planes don't do!

Ruddy Turnstone.

Ruddy Turnstone - lowering landing gear.

Ruddy Turnstone - ooops - a bit off balance. Must have been a microburst!

Ruddy Turnstone - yipes - congestion!

Ruddy Turnstone - OK, we can handle this.

Of course the birds aren’t in the air all the time- they spend most of the time on the beach.  And I really liked this view of a young sanderling as it walked towards the sun with a spent wave lapping just behind it.

Sanderling

Sanderling

OK – here we go again with a mystery bird. We saw one like this earlier and it had me scratching my head while on the beach. I was still scratching when I got home and look at this picture, though the size comparison was clear here since the first picture includes a semipalmated plover which is about 7 inches. So – do you think you know this bird? We’re going to do the numbered picture thing again with a poll at the end. You decide at what point you know what bird this is.

1 - Unidentified larger bird with semipalmated plover in foreground.

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

As I said, this one had me puzzled. it could be a blackbellied plover in nonbreeding plumage. I really needed the flight shots to work this out. The give away there is the streaked breast. The black arm pit, short bill, and size (about 11.5″) all say blackbellied plover. The white rump/tail separate it fromt he American Golden Plover.

As i was walking near the parking lot I began thinking that the real test of the focus is a lone bird against a blue sky – and quite distant – so I began to look out for one. As i entered the parking lot I saw an osprey that must have been 100 yards off – maybe more. I aimed the telephoto and started clicking. The result was my favorite photo of the afternoon – favorite because it says I can now grab this kind of picture at least some of the time! (I didn’t know about the fish until I got home and looked at the picture.)

Osprey packing lunch.

Shortly after I caught this sequence over the beach near the causeway of a pair of sanderlings joining up with another.

Sanderlings.

One of the birds that has frustrated me this summer is the tern. I recognize them, but I don’t know the specific type and I haven’t – until now – been able to get some decent photos.  They appear quickly and are usually gone as quickly – and, of course, there’s the old focus problem aggravated by flight speed and size.  I got one shot near the start of the causeway on Gooseberry – then as I got in my car at the other end, a couple others appeared.

Common tern.

Common tern - note the black near wing tup.

Common tern.

And since I began this session with a gull, here’s two views of the same mature herring gull – in fact the same photo.  I just wanted to see how the flight image would stand up to zooming in the computer.

Herring gull.

See you soon at Gooseberry!

]]> http://gooseberryjournal.wordpress.com/2011/09/15/flight-ecstasy-a-new-rebel-and-a-quantum-leap-in-awareness/feed/ 0 Greg Stone IMG_0063 great_black_backed_1 great_bb_2 semipalmated_sandpipers_1 IMG_0063 IMG_0064 IMG_0065 IMG_0066 IMG_0067 IMG_0068 IMG_0083 IMG_0084 IMG_0085 IMG_0088 IMG_0090 IMG_0092 IMG_0095 IMG_0096 IMG_0098 IMG_0103 IMG_0103 IMG_0106 IMG_0118 IMG_0119 IMG_0120 IMG_0138 IMG_0139 IMG_0142 IMG_0143 IMG_0144 IMG_0145 IMG_0146 IMG_0147 IMG_0148 juvenile_sanderling_beach_1 juvenile_sanderling_close_2 IMG_0162 IMG_0163 IMG_0167 IMG_0168 IMG_0169 IMG_0170 IMG_0171 IMG_0173 IMG_0176 osprey_with_fish IMG_0216 IMG_0217 IMG_0218 IMG_0233 IMG_0234 IMG_0235 IMG_0230_2 IMG_0230 http://gooseberryjournal.wordpress.com/2011/09/14/arghhhhhh-the-rebels-death-spiral-and-just-when/ http://gooseberryjournal.wordpress.com/2011/09/14/arghhhhhh-the-rebels-death-spiral-and-just-when/#comments Wed, 14 Sep 2011 13:26:52 +0000 Greg Stone http://gooseberryjournal.wordpress.com/?p=1139 Continue reading →]]> On a muggy mid-morning walk I was feeling a bit lonely because I had seen hardly any birds or butterfies and I was nearly to the southwest point of the island! Then, about 20-feet ahead of me I noticed that all the fist-sized rocks weren’t!

Sanderlings - lick image for larger version.

Rocks don’t move. Not on their own. Sanderlings do. But never had I stumbled upon so many in one place – at least a couple hundred. And at first I didn’t even know that. I was concentrating on perhaps 50, as you can see in the  above shot.  What’s really cool is how many of them appear to be juveniles – the ones with the high contrast, black and white backs. But we also see adults  - an even, lighter grey tone. And if you look closely we appear to have some juveniles turning into adults.

A big crowds of kids with a few adults sprinkled in!

This was great. I took a few more shots hoping to get some interesting action sequences and in-flight shots eventually. As I shot I noticed that the flock was much larger than I first thought.  Then bingo – I took a picture and my viewfinder went black!

My camera is the original Canon Rebel 300D introduced in 2003 and bought by me about six months after the introduction. I guess that make s it old by digital standards and I was thinking of upgrading – some time down the road.  Well, the road just ended abruptly. I turned away from the Sanderlings and fooled with the camera turning it on and off  - a sort of kicking the tires action. And slowly the viewfinder came back. Whew. I took lots of additional photos – about 100 – not only of Sanderlings, but of lots of other things.  And when I got back, here’s what every photo taken after the blackout looked like:

Imagine 100-or-so Sanderlings in action, taking off! Arghhhhhhhh!

So I’m off to upgrade ASAP, most likely to the next-to-latest version of the Rebel, the Canon EOS Rebel T2i, having spent the night reading reviews. This gets high marks as “the best digital single lens reflex under $1,000.” Which means it’s more than I want to spend, but the economy needs my help – buying is the patriotic thing to do.  Even if it wasn’t made in the USA, what is? And at least the retailer is here

It was a wonderful walk, and the early part wasn’t a total loss.  I’m discovering the Buckeye butterfly has the same habit as flying grashoppers. That is, it seems to really like the dirt road and  suddenly flys up in front of you and lands again 10 feet down the road where – at least in my experience – it frequently spereads its wings apparently gathering solar energy.  I was able to get in real close on this one and so have my best buckeye pictures to date.

Buckeye - click image for larger version.

And speaking of those flying grasshoppers, the one place I always seem to encounter them is on the path between the tower and the southwest point.

I'm sure these have a name. They've fascinated me since I was a kid. But I don't know what it is. I just call them flying grasshoppers.

Just before I got to the flock of sandelings I enocuntered a lone semipalmated plover. I think this is a juvenile – notice the completely black beak?

I also noticed where, on the east path just beyond the towers, the folks with the backhoe who were picking up that stranded boat the other day simply bulled their way through the underbrush. Not pretty – but it will heal. More curious to me were the couple of trucks that headed out to the tower just as I entered the road from the parking lot.  (The gate was still closed, but these were state workers on official business.)

Turns out someone had fallen and injured themselves in/on the highest tower a week or two ago.  So these folks were dispatched to try to seal up the entrance to the tower so it won’t happen again.

The curious thing is this news story reports that the man was climbing the outside of the tower and fell and possibly broke his leg. The state worker I talked to seemed to think he had fallen inside the tower – and, of course, that’s why they were sealing it up so others could not go inside.  Maybe some reader knows the truth? I’m not particularly trusting of the paper – it just reported that Westport was having a special town meeting the other night on two budget articles. It wasn’t. It was having a special election. Rather important mistake since the election requires going to the polls and voting during the day while the meeting requires going to the high school at night.  So was it inside or outside the tower? And does it matter?

My own preference would be to have the state invest some real money – not a whole lot – and restore the towers to something like their WWII status and allow people to walk up a spiral staircase and stand on top and get a wonderful view of the island, Horseneck beach, the ocean and bay. Would beat heck out of the ruined look now – not to mention the art display which while impressive in some parts, certainly clashes with the environment.

High and dry! Click image for larger version.

A few days after the passage of Hurricane-turned-tropical-storm Irene I was circumnavigating Gooseberry and as I rounded the southeast point and headed towards the east point I spotted a pretty large outboard-powerded boat well up on the beach. Looking down the beach I saw nothing but huge boulders, so I was surprised it got there in one piece and I wondered how in the heck they were going to get it out of there since the only way it could have gotten there was on the extreme high tide of Irene.

Well today – OK it was a couple days ago, actually – I got my answer as I walked back on the central road near the tower – here’s what I saw coming towards me.

They apparently planned to use this as an off-road vehicle - I haven't been back to see the scars yet - and pick up the boat.

And following close behind this was . . .

I didn't stay around to watch the operation - I wanted to get over to the raptor show in RI that the state Audubon folks were putting on - but the plan seemed obvious.

So that’s one question and the answer.  I had other questions. For example, just before the machinery arrived I snapped this photo  of a butterfly in the road and it had me scratching my head until I got home and loked through the Stokes’ trusted “The Butterfly Book.”

This is an American Painted Lady. Even though the wings are folded, the two large "eyes" on the underside near the back are the key marking.

Seen head-on the crescent of three blended dots near the tip of the wing and visible from either side says it's some sort of painted lady - a close examination of the whole pattern points to American Painted Lady.

Indentification over - to my satisfaction, at least - I really prefer this blurred, in-flight picture which captures the flashes of color you typically see in live action.

Now my painted lady wasn’t half the puzzler that this guy was.

This butterfly fit in so well with the brush I wasn't at all sure I was pointing the camera at it. Click image for larger view and see if you can find the butterfly. It's really pretty obvious once you know it's there.

Wings folded I was struck by what I saw as a white border on black wings.

Wings open it showed beautiful blue and mahogany coloring - but I couldn't find a basically black butterfly with white trim on the border of its wings in the book. I was about to give up, then I noticed that the mourning cloak had a light yellow border. Not only that, but they had one of the longest life spans of any butterfly - as long as 10 months as adults - and so I reasoned that what first looked white to me was really faded yellow. This was obviously an older mourning cloak - the first I had idnetified on Gooseberry!

Now came my real question mark. And at the risk of sounding like a “who’s on first routine,” that’s what it is – a question mark!

The last time I saw a question mark - yes, that's its name - it's wings were folded. I didn't know how beautiful they were! (Click to get a larger image.)

If you go to the butterflies page – it’s on a tab near the top of every page – you can scroll through the ones I’ve seen on Gooseberry which includes a picture of the underside of the wing of a question mark and thus reveals how it got its name.

And speaking of revealing how it got it’s name, how about the smipalmated sandpiper? Yeah, this little guy – which was on the rocks as I went back across the causeway on this day.

I love this little dude. And he handles these slippery rocks much better than I do. But I don't think I've ever gotten a good look at his feet. Notice they're hidden here.

He's easy enough to identify by his dark cap, short straight bill, and other markings. But. . . those feet are the key to his name. Semipalmated means they are partially webbed.

So here they are! And the webbing really is "semi" - just barely visible even in this photo.

BTW – This was the day after Hurricane Katia had stirred up surf from a distance and so I expected to see some today. But it wasn’t there. What was there was this one loan surfer who obviously had the presence of mind to bring a paddle!

This surfless surfer was well off the west beach and calmly paddling across a calm ocean.

Screen shot showing Hurricane Katia this morning about 400 miles southeast of Gooseberry and heading out to sea. Shot is from - Living Earth HD app on my Ipad. Katia is that swirling thing off the Atlantic Coast with its outer bands of clouds obscuring Gooseberry. Click image for larger view.

I wanted to see how much surf a Category 1 Hurricane (that’s as weak as they come) could kick up on Gooseberry as it passed about 400 miles to our southeast, so I went down to Gooseberry near high tide this morning as Katia passed by us headed in the General direction of England.  What I found impressive was the slow rolling majesty of the rhythms that created one of those wonderful natural symphonies as waves crashed on the  rocks or beach and rolled small stones against one another making slightly different sounds both coming and going.

This was first apparent on the causeway. I used my little Casio Exilim to grab some video -probably more than some want – but hey, relax, stop what you’re doing, and come on down to Gooseberry – at least in spirit.  You’ll have to imagine the wonderful smells of salt air and seaweed, but here’s what it looked and sounded like. First, on the ocean side.

And then on the Buzzard’s Bay side.

As I walked out towards the west beach the tree swallows were having one of their conventions on the first little hill just past the parking lot. They have a strange rhythm of their own that served as a sort of aerial allegro passage to accent the surf symphony.

Entering the west beach I just wanted to stan quietly and absorb the majesty of it all. One thing that fascinates me is how the distant waves are breaking at one angle, the closer waves at a much different one.

Speaking of breaking – getting old does get a bit frustrating. Not only do you fall more, but you do it in a sort of slow motion. You know it’s happening, you have time to think about it as you’re going down, but you no longer can stop it. No damage here. My dignity was lost long ago and the camera lens was protected by a clear filter, so while some wet sand got on the filter, it didn’t get on the lens. And my feet stayed dry – just!

Despite it’s teasing lick at me, I still considered the ocean soothing – so here’s one more take from within Katia’s wake.

View fromt he parking lot looking north - not a nice day. Not exactly raining. Think of it more as very thick, salty fogs moving horizontally at a good clip.

My computer readout said the wind was 2 mph. When I went to my car in the driveway it was calm. And dry – which fit the image on the weather radar which showed all the rain passing to the north of us. Ten minutes later I was at Gooseberry, the flag on a nearby pole was out straight, and the bay looked as angry as I’ve ever seen it, though on the ocean side there were just gentle rollers, courtesy of Hurricane Katia a long way off and heading out to sea. Once again, I learned that conditions a few miles inland can be a lot different from those at the coast!

So I put my camera in a plastic bag, but kept it ready. On the causeway I saw an opportunity for a shot and turned my back to the wind and salty mist and spray. Wrong! Even though my Tilley hat was held down by a string around my chin, the wind got behind it and flipped it off my head and over the edge of the causeway and towards the water.  Fortunately it was just mid tide. (Hey – did you notice that neat little new tide link in the upper right of this page?! Right above the weather link that just gave me the bum steer?

So the hat didn’t make it all the way to the water. It was inches away, nuzzled between some rocks and as I got half way down I began thinking about how stupid it was for an out-of-shape , 70-year-old to be doing this because the tops of the rocks at the lower level were dark green. I had visions of cracking my head and being there ’til the tide comes in because Gooseberry wasn’t going to attract any other visitors today. The water was no problem – just wet, but at this point shallow. The rocks were wet and very hard. So I did an undignified slither over the slimy surfaces  - very slowly –  getting wet and mucked up in the process, but leaving myself little distance to fall. As the waves licked at it, I retrieved my hat and carefully retraced my path, slithering all the way.

The little episode got me thinking about the wind and Eric Sloane’s Weather Book, an old favorite  which arrived on  Christmas Day 1954 – and although a bit worn and a lot outdated now, I still trust it. (Yes, it’s still in print!)  And I remembered something in there about flags being good indicators of wind speed. So when I got home I checked.  Here’s a picture of the relevant page – plus an insert of a picture of the flag at Gooseberry this day. You be the judge!

Click image for larger view.

So what was it?

Your answers are important. I love this old seat-of-the-pants weather forecasting stuff, but doing this little exercise myself I started to lose confidence. If you can’t evaluate the flag, what chance do you have in evaluating a Wooly Bear?

I’d like to tell you that Gooseberry in the raw was special – but it wasn’t. It was just raw and forlorn. For example, here is a small group of familiar shore birds on  the east beach.

A bit blurry? You bet - and that's how I saw them looking into the wind and mist/rain/spay.

There was some advantage to going to the other shore. It put the island between you and the worst of the wind.  But the little guys were still ruffled, as were some of the larger birds.

I hate to be just a fairweather friend, but like this ruddy turnstone, conditions had me scratching my head and wondering what the heck I was doing here.

But it was better than sitting in the house all day and when I walked back across the causeway i had at least learned to keep one hand on Tilley!  ;-)