Anna’s Hummingbird

Anna’s Hummingbird is common in the farm country west of Portland Oregon. Unlike the Ruby-throated Hummingbirds we see here in the Adirondacks they overwinter; going into a hibernation-like state of torpor when it gets cold.

With the assistance of the Merlin Bird ID app on my phone I was able to see over 60 bird species during the visit. My old ears don’t hear bird songs and pips as well as they used to, but Merlin hears them. And knowing which species are around makes it possible to find birds I would otherwise miss. The ability to recognize bird calls and songs is the super power that expert birders rely on, and Merlin makes that available to everyone.

Bewick’s Wren

Much like the House Wrens we see here in the Adirondacks the Bewick’s Wren has a complex and melodic song. Hearing a wren trilling away in the underbrush is a sure sign of spring.

Lesser Goldfinch

Despite the name, the Lesser Goldfinch may be even more distinctive than the American Goldfinches we see here.

As for the lessons learned, watching a bird closely, hearing it, seeing the identifying marks and the way it moves builds familiarity. This makes it much easier to recognize that species in the future.

Bushtit

These tiny birds are easily recognized by their size and behavior. If you see very small birds foraging in flocks of from five to 20 birds, you are almost certainly looking at Bushtits. Bushtits are difficult to photograph because they never stop moving. Probably a good idea for a bird only slightly larger than a hummingbird.

Two species of Kinglets, the Ruby-crowned and Golden-crowned, are both present in the Adirondacks and I see them here from time to time. But after an hour watching a Ruby-crowned stake out its nesting territory I gained a new appreciation for this tiny bird. And seeing the bright red crown sealed the deal. I had never actually seen this bird’s name-sake ruby-crown before this trip.

Golden-crowned kinglets are more distinctive, and easy to recognize if you get a good look, but they tend to stay up in the tree tops making that difficult. However, the Merlin app’s identification of the faint calls while I was able to see the bird singing high above made for a confident ID.

Ruby-crowned Kinglet

When this bird is really worked up the crown can be even more prominent, but at least I glimpse of the red.

It was also fun to see Chestnut-Backed Chickadees. If the Adirondacks were to have a bird mascot I would vote for the Black-capped Chickadee. Chickadees are outgoing and fearless and the black-capped variety is ubiquitous. A second chickadee species, the Boreal Chickadee, is also present in the Adirondacks, though it is increasingly rare. This has made the Boreal Chickadee my nemesis. I’ve traveled to likely places several times to try and see this specific bird but, so far, no luck. Seeing the Chestnut-backed variety in Oregon gave me hope, and reinforced my rule; never let a chickadee pass without taking a closer look.

Chestnut-backed Chickadee

Northern Shoveler

A bill that only a mother could love

Green-winged Teal

The central Adirondacks is not a great place to see the water fowl and shorebirds. In summer we have loons, geese, ducks, herons, bitterns and a single wader; the spotted sandpiper. But the vast array of water birds seen in Oregon is enough to make your head spin. Looking out over a small pond filled with Northern shovelers, Cinnamon and Green-winged Teal, Coots, Widgeons, Hooded Mergansers, Wood Ducks and a half dozen species of long legged wading birds had me searching through my bird books for IDs. Among the waders, the Lesser and Greater Yellowlegs are distinctive, making it easy to say, “it’s a yellowlegs”. The trouble comes in telling the two species apart. The Greater variety is a bit larger, but that is only obvious when you see both species side-by-side. We have a similar difficulty separating Downy and Hairy Woodpeckers. The size and shape of their bills is a distinguishing feature but you need familiarity to be able to recognize that.

In the case of the yellowlegs the best differentiator is the call. At the Wapto Lake National Wildlife refuge I found myself standing alongside a couple of birders debating whether the bird in front of us was a Greater or Lesser Yellowlegs. I commented that Merlin identified it as a Lesser. Their disappointed expressions provided yet another learning opportunity. It might be okay to use Merlin for casual IDs, but real birders were not going to stoop so low. Oops.

American Coot

Common and unmistakeable

Cinnamon Teal

Greater Yellowlegs

(at least that is what Merlin thought it was)

This trip also reinforced something I’ve long known about bird photography. The key to getting good bird pictures is patience, watching and waiting for the right opportunity. Especially when you are trying to photograph small birds lurking in dim places. It’s tempting to wander around trying to get pictures of whatever appears in front of you, but the better approach is to identify a place where the bird might land, with the lighting and background you want . Then be ready to get the photo if the bird cooperates.

Red-breasted Sapsucker

Sapsuckers had worked this tree over pretty hard

naturalist: a person motivated by curiosity to learn about nature

If, like me, you’re motivated by curiosity to learn more about nature, the warmer months can overwhelm the senses. The biodiversity of the Adirondacks is not huge but in July, when everything that lives is working to secure the future, there’s a lot going on.

Winter simplifies things. Some mammals are hibernating and the ones that aren’t leave helpful tracks in the snow. Many of the birds we see in summer have fled south, only about 30 species live year round in the central Adirondacks. Plants are buried under the snow and, best of all, the insects are laying low.

It’s easier to focus, which may be why I’ve noticed the Blue Jays.

What’s up with the Blue Jays

We have several bird feeders around the house and as winter 2025 has settled in Blue Jays have been ruling over the feeders. Blue Jays are a common and highly visible species and their presence stands in contrast with last year when we saw no Blue Jays in our area from November thru mid-April. And it’s not just that they have suddenly found our feeders. Over the past two weeks I’ve seen Blue Jays along the Sabattis road and squawking overhead while I skied the Cedarlands trail.

This got me wondering, do Blue Jays migrate to warmer places in the winter, or don’t they? And why some years and not others? The answer turns out to be more interesting than I had imagined. The Cornell All About Birds website notes, “Some (blue jays) are present throughout winter in all parts of their range. Young jays may be more likely to migrate than adults, but many adults also migrate. Some individual jays migrate south one year, stay north the next winter, and then migrate south again the next year. No one has worked out why they migrate when they do.”

That was unexpected. I’m familiar with irruptions and this is different. Irruptive migrations are believed to be driven by food availability and that does not appear to be what motivates the Blue Jay behavior. It also does not appear to be directly related to weather. When Blue Jays do head south they do so in mid-fall, before harsh weather could explain their departure. It seems that Blue Jays, like other members of the corvid family, move to the beat to their own drummer. This makes me appreciate them even more.

Some years we see them, some years we don’t. This picture and the next one are from 2022.

Blue Jays push the Chickadees and Nuthatches around, but they defer to Hairy Woodpeckers.

https://www.nrcm.org/blog/mysterious-migration-blue-jays/

Eventually my presence (in my canoe) started to bother them, sending them up into nearby trees. From there they watched and circled. Keeping track of me and each other.

My best guess was that there was a food source, a deer carcass maybe, in the marsh and they both wanted it. I’ve seen multiple eagles hanging around a carcass on winter ice but it appeared that in this case they were not interested in sharing. Other explanations are possible, but given the time of year and the behavior I did not get the impression that they were trying to make friends.

While working on this post I came across this interesting discussion of eagle behavior and ecology.

I previously posted a video about the Ruby-throated Hummingbird to my YouTube channel:

What do Hummingbirds do in the Rain (youtube)

I’m now working on an updated version. Some recent footage that might be included in the new video below:

The tiny Ruby-throated Hummingbird (Archilochus colubris) arrives in the Adirondacks in mid-May with a blur and a buzz. This is the only hummingbird that nests in the Eastern United States and they are approaching the northern extent of their range in the Adirondacks.

Critical to the ruby-throat's cold-weather survival is its ability to enter a state of torpor, a deep physiological inactivity akin to a temporary hibernation. When temperatures plummet, or when nectar sources dwindle, the topor state allows the hummingbird to drastically reduce its metabolic rate conserving precious energy reserves that would otherwise be rapidly depleted due to their high metabolism. This adaptation allows them to weather cold nights and lean periods, essentially hitting a pause button on their energetic demands until conditions improve.

However, torpor is not a viable solution for surviving prolonged cold. The primary strategy that enables ruby-throated hummingbirds to inhabit regions with harsh winters is their ability to migrate to warmer climates, primarily Central America. This often involves crossing the Gulf of Mexico, a testament to their endurance and navigational prowess.

During the summer breeding period, ruby-throats are fierce defenders of territories and food sources. Sitting on our porch we oftentimes see a flash and hear the high pitched whir of males chasing each other to establish dominance over the feeder in our yard. The winner then perches in nearby trees to keep an eye on things.

Paddling up the lake on my way out I noticed a group of ducks on the water. I had seen Black Ducks and Buffleheads in that same area the day before, but these birds didn't look like either of those. Unfortunately, my binoculars had been unwisely packed in the bottom of a dry bag so I couldn't get a good look. However, I had a long lens on my camera and snapped a few quick shots. Back home, after blowing up the images, I was pleasantly surprised to find that these were Horned Grebes. These small Grebes generally nest in central and northern Canada so they had a long ways to go. The only time we see them here is when they take a break on their long migration.

Horned Grebes; I couldn't make them out while I was on the water but the picture (and others that I took) leave no doubt.

The second surprise was found in a picture I snapped of a group of gulls perched on a big rock. This is a spot much beloved by herring gulls and even though I snapped a couple of shots I didn't pay close attention. Later I watched a flight of white birds circle and come in for a landing on the lake but they also were too far off for an identification. They looked like gulls, but even at a distance I knew they were too small for herring gulls. Again, I snapped a couple of quick shots. It was only later looking at the images that I realized that these were probably Bonaparte's Gulls. I still was not sure however, and it was the images of the gulls on the rock that firmed up the id. Among the herring gulls were two small gulls with jet black heads and bright red legs. No doubt about it, those are Bonaparte's Gulls.

Keeping my binoculars handy would have helped but now I'm going to feel like I should take pictures of every bird I see, even if I think I know what they are. Oh boy.

Herring Gulls with two Bonaparte's Gull bottom right.

Herring Gulls perch love this rock in the middle of Little Tupper Lake.

The loons are back on Little Tupper (and throughout the region). Based on what I heard and saw there are at least three pairs and very likely more.

A pair of Buffleheads. As far as I know these birds do not nest at Little Tupper Lake, but they are commonly seen in both spring and fall.

Eastern Phoebe, a sure sign of spring.

Meteorological spring arrives tomorrow, March 20th, but I have no illusions that winter is done with us. Even so, signs of spring are appearing everywhere. Here are a few photos from a brief visit to Buttermilk Falls and the Raquette River earlier today.

A pair of Common Mergansers resting along the Raquette near Buttermilk Falls. Common Mergansers are always one of the first of the migrating birds to reappear in the spring. In recent years there has been open water on Long Lake by this date, and groups of Mergansers have gathered waiting for the remaining ice to clear. So far this year, there is very little open water on the lakes so the birds have taken refuge where they can.

Water levels on the Raquette river are high, in keeping with the spring melting of the past 10 days.

Buttermilk Falls (near Long Lake) is spectacular at times of high water.