Catching the Waves

Memorial Day, what many like to think of as the unofficial start of summer, will soon be here. In this age of the coronavirus it is taking on even more meaning as state officials, eager to keep their stir-crazy and/or unemployed constituents from rising up in rebellion more than they already have, are slowly reopening beaches to give the people some release and perhaps a reason to pretend everything is normal again. If only.

In my state of NJ alone, the governor has said beaches will be reopened by Memorial Day, subject to social distancing restrictions. Based on the reports I've seen, these aren't being followed much and I wish the police luck in helping the "knuckleheads" keep from infecting themselves and others.

Mexico Beach, Florida, April 2010 (RE Berg-Andersson)

I am not one to just sit on the beach. I'd rather be looking for birds there. That's why this year, at this time of year, it is particularly painful to me to be kept to my home because of the contagion that could kill me. I do not walk the streets of my town because it depresses me to have people jump out of my way, sometimes into the street with traffic, to give me distance, even though I wear a mask. MH runs the errands, masked and with the car, while I work from home.

When I have gone out this month, it has been at dawn's early light to catch a different type of wave - bird migration.

The first wave, in late April, are the earliest migrants including phoebes, ruby-crowned kinglets, pine warblers, Louisiana waterthrush and redwinged blackbirds. Ospreys are reported. Waves of sea birds including northern gannets head north along the coast.

Then come the first two weeks of May when things get interesting. The bulk of the other types of warblers pass through plus tanagers, the rose-breasted grosbeak and some of the shorebirds. This would normally be the time when MH and I would travel to some of our favorite birding locations - Old Mine Road in New Jersey, Sapsucker Woods on the campus of the Cornell Ornithology Lab in upstate New York, my brother-in-law's woodlot in rural New Hampshire. Migration will continue for another couple of weeks but by June the birds should be sitting on eggs and won't be as easy to find.

Cattus Island ospreys, Toms River, NJ, April 2019 (RE Berg-Andersson)

Things are different this year, of course. There are no facilities open for eating in or going to the bathroom, something MH and I need to do when making our long trips. So even though I have taken a week off in June, we really have nowhere to go short of day trips to areas no more than 20 miles from us.

Luckily, there are quite a few of these.

This year has been wacky not just for the pandemic but because of the weather. Two days ago it hit 84 degrees F. On May 13 and 14, at the time I left the house for different parts of Patriots Path, the temperature was in the mid-30s, The first morning I chilled myself as I ignored my discomfort to concentrate on the many, many birds I was hearing. The next morning I had more layers on, including two on my hands because holding a wooden stick in the cold can be uncomfortable after a while.

The reward was worth the discomfort. The birds I found (mostly by ear) included, of the warblers, northern parula, chestnut-sided, yellow, common yellowthroat, myrtle, black-throated blue, black-throated green, ovenbird, northern waterthrush, Blackburnian, worm-eating and hooded. Besides the robins, cardinals and catbirds I can also find in my backyard were Swainson's thrush, wood thrush and hermit thrush, which are in the wave following the warblers. So are the sparrows - swamp, vesper, savannah, chipping, Lincoln's and their relative the towhee. (The white-throated sparrows and juncos that spent the winter in my yard have moved on.) The rose-breasted grosbeak sang sweetly. Goldfinches and indigo buntings flew over the road. The Carolina wrens were joined in song by house wrens. A green heron flew along the Whippany River and was soon followed by a great blue heron. The list goes on.

Birding Old Mine Road, May 2017 (RE Berg-Andersson)

For a birder it is important to be out as the sun is rising for two reasons: First, the birds that have arrived after a night of flying are actively foraging, so there is movement, particularly important when you are looking at trees that have begun to leaf out. The birds are also singing territorial songs as the sun rises, warning others to keep out of their area. If the bird breeds in NJ, it is looking for a mate and a nest site, not necessarily in that order. Once the sun rises high enough, I've found the bird song stops. I don't know why.

The second reason to be out early if you're a birder is to keep the human traffic at a minimum. On the paved path I walked on May 13, the number of people increased as the sun rose and temperature warmed somewhat. On the unpaved path I traveled on May 14, there were only two joggers and four men on mountain bikes who might've been the park police making their rounds.

Because I can't get out as much as I did last year (when I did not have a regular job), it has taken me longer to find the warblers I used to hear in my travels. The weather had not helped. Until the strong northwest winds finally died down on the night of May 12, there had been little bird movement to my part of the country - it is harder to fly with a headwind - but, according to the radar I consult, there was a lot of traffic into the midwestern U.S.

That situation changed the night of May 14 when the winds shifted to blowing out of the southwest, bringing rain, warmer temperatures and plenty of birds to the northeast.

There are even waves within waves. The males precede the females so they can rush to the breeding territories and find just the right nesting spot. So when I was out I had a close look at a female scarlet tanager, for instance, and a female black-throated blue warbler, which are duller in color than the males so they can blend in. It took knowing their characteristics - the thicker tanager bill, the small white patch on the warbler's wing - so I could identify them.

Black-throated green warbler, Sapsucker Woods, May 2019
(RE Berg-Andersson)

That's part of the challenge and the fun and why early May is my favorite time of year as a birder. That I can't go to the places I KNOW have the birds I have yet to find is frustrating and more than a little depressing.

However, despite the exhaustion of rising early and then putting in a full day of work, thanks to the two midweek trips I took and another MH and I took Saturday I think I have caught up with the birds I can see in my area, for the most part. It's not the higher breeding terrain of Old Mine Road or Cornell or New Hampshire where there are other birds I can't find around here, but it will have to do.

It is unfortunate the enforced isolation has made me more wary of people than ever, and now the noise adults and their children and dogs make bothers me even more. I understand their need to be outside in good weather, particularly when it is warm. I feel it, too. I just don't want our times outside to coincide.

They can have the beach. For now I'm sticking closer to home.