|
Willard Bay State Park will have to be
re-named Yellow-rumped Warbler State Park based on what I saw there from 10:00
to 4:00 yesterday. I counted the warblers and came up with a gazillion and
a half. But good news--I saw a few other species as well. It's a
great place to bird because of the diversity of habitats the location
offers--brush, open water, mud flats, and riparian deciduous woods. I'm
glad to report I saw nice birds in all areas.
Along the north dike I saw a pair of Blue-Gray
Gnatcatchers, American Goldfinches, House Finches, White-Crowned Sparrows,
Yellow-rumped Warblers, a Ring-necked Pheasant both clanking away in brush and
strutting across an open area with tail cocked, and a Great Egret. Except
for the egret, I saved studying south into the bay because I expected
to cross the mud flats later to the ever-decreasing water.
The marina has become mud flat habitat also and I
saw lots of Killdeer, a few American Avocets, a Solitary Sandpiper, and a
handful of peeps. I heard a Downy Woodpecker in the Russian Olive trees
along the interstate. I saw another Blue-gray Gnatcatcher that alerted me
with its insect-like "Beeeee! Beeeee!" call, on the dike west of the
marina. I crossed the mudflats west of the
marina and generally headed toward a group of about 30 Forster's
Terns. The numbers of terns now at Willard Bay is amazing. There
were many, many more terns in the extreme northeastern curve of the bay and
flying over the water. Based on Julie VanMoorhem's report from 2 weeks
ago, I bet Common Terns were there too. I didn't get up to that
group to investigate and I should have! I was able to approach the
Forster's to a distance of about 100 feet to study them. I also saw a
Bonaparte's Gull with the terns that looked delicate and diminutive compared to
the ever-present Ring-billed Gulls.
When an American Pelican flew through my binoculars
view I decided to count the string that followed. They're easy to
count because they fly in follow-the-leader fashion. When I got to about
80 I put my binocs down and looked south...and saw, literally, hundreds
still coming. Joke was on me. I stopped counting. Maybe
they're not so easy to count. Lots of Western and Clark's Grebes
punctuated the open water. I also saw Snowy Egrets, Great-blue Herons,
Double-crested Cormorants, and peeps that I didn't take the time to ID.
Along the Nature Trail, I participated in an
impromptu event I'll call "The Small Sit". I sat down on a culvert
pipe that channels a hidden east-west stream under a road between the
Nature Trail parking area and Eagle campground. I watched. The first
thirsty bird was a Black-capped Chickadee. It clung sideways and low on a
willow sapling growing out of the water. This moment was the
Paridae pause that refreshes. After the drinks the chickadee
continued to forage through the tangle of undergrowth with an energetic
"Chickadee-dee-dee!" bursting forth. A robin landed on a fallen branch,
dipped into the stream, and bowed deeply with beak pointed toward the sky to get
that gravity thing going. An Orange-crowned Warbler landed on the rusty,
dead leaves of the same branch, but didn't stay for a drink. The robin
quickly turned and chortled something that distinctly sounded like,
"Hey! You! Get offa my branch!" And the warbler left.
Far down the stream, I saw motion in a leafy green tree and a broad yellow
supercillium on the move. The yellow flashed out again, and then the
owner, a female Townsend's Warbler, flitted down and landed on the mat of
vegetation in the middle of the stream for her drink. I also saw many
Yellow-rumped Warblers and a few Song Sparrows taking their turn at the
stream. I heard a Gray Catbird in thick willows that choked the
stream behind me and a Northern Flicker.
If a bird dog is a dog that leads the way to birds,
a bird bird must be a bird that leads the way to birds. Yesterday's bird
bird was an American Robin, that publicized the presence of a Great
Horned Owl in a Cottonwood Tree with agitated and strident tones until I paid
attention. The Yellow-rumped Warblers also insisted, vocally, that I take
a look. A Northern Flicker hopped along branches adjacent to the
owl calling, "Kleer! Kleer!". The owl didn't pay much attention
to any of them, but it paid attention to me as I strolled across the campgrounds
and took a seat at a picnic table to watch. The owl riveted a
wide-eyed, direct and Halloween-like gaze on me. Superman's x-ray
vision couldn't possibly be more intense than the gaze I sustained. The
owl gradually relaxed a bit and finally swiveled its head away. When
it turned back to check on me again, it blinked, heavy-lidded and
languorous. I pretty much ended that moment when I tried to approach
the tree to within 50 feet or so. The owl deployed to another nearby
cottonwood. I did not approach it again; instead, I inspected the ground
beneath the original perch hoping to find pellets that would indicate the tree
was a favorite--it's not.
At other times during the day I saw a Ruby-crowned
Kinglet, surprisingly quiet American Magpies, an unidentified accipiter that was
probably a Sharpie, an American Kestrel, and a Spotted Towhee. Whatever
that total of species is I regard it as pretty darn good for one
location--Yellow-rumped Warbler State Park. Good birding,
everyone!
Kris
|