by Lanny McDowell on August 2, 2010
If you want to delve into the arcane business of confidently recognizing a Long-billed Dowitcher in the midst of short-billeds this time of year, and it’s still early, please go right ahead and let me know when you have a long-billed nailed down. All the shorebird books take on this subject and, sort of like the fairly recent Gulls book, the more you read, the more confused and uncertain you are likely to become. Less can be more. Dump some of the plumage factors and go for structural comparison. If you are lucky, really lucky, you will have one species beside the other and not a single bird, bill tucked and snoozing.
The reason for bringing this ID quandary (morass) to the fore is that I saw and photographed a dowitcher on July 29th out at the flats inside the opening of Tisbury Great Pond. Its central tail feathers were rufous toward the tips, where the barring “should” have a white or light buffy color. Most references do not mention this feature, but Paulson’s Shorebirds of North America does write about the rufous in the tail being an identifier for long-billed.
Well, in this case I do not happen to believe this, because in another shot taken of the same bird, the bill droops a bit in the last third of its length, which feature is mentioned as reliable for picking out a short-billed (versus a straighter bill for long-billed). Since every set of comparisons for these two species seems to end up in the scrapheap of variability – except for voice, which all the writers embrace as distinctive – the tail feather ground color issue will be at home on the list of “may be a factor, but not reliable taken alone as a single distinguishing mark”. In my book, anyway.
We all seem to want the elements that will offer us certainty, but like so many other BIG questions, sometimes the more you look, the less you know. Not really fair, is it?
Check out the tail feather tips and the bill on this West Tisbury dow:
Dows are Cool! Lan
by Lanny McDowell on February 23, 2010
There are some simple reasons I can’t stay away from watching and photographing purples this time of year. Firstly, they are here on the Vineyard and fairly uncommon most other places. I know where to find them when I want to, usually up scouring the rocks at Squibnocket, because they are location loyal. That’s about the habitat, which is the habitat that shows up in the bird photos below. They are not always there, but they are likely to be there on a bright winter’s day.
The other factor that brings me back to find them is that they are relatively tame when feeding or resting, even with Stella at my side. Stella is very respectful and patient when it’s clear that I am trying to move slowly or I’m waiting for the sandpipers to approach me as they move among the rocks. [click to continue...]
by Lanny McDowell on January 10, 2010
Martha’s Vineyard, her rocky shores and the rich marine ecology that surrounds her, is very attractive to Common Eiders looking to winter in a place that grows and gives up enough tonnage of food resources to keep the feathered thousands alive through the coldest months. The patterns of major sea duck concentration have changed this winter, presumably moving with the food resource. There are almost always a smaller number of eiders that congregate near the jetties at Menemsha. What they were doing when I was there yesterday is what they often do at sea, just in a more confined space: riding the current and feeding, then flying back to take another pass on the current. They were riding on the incoming tide ripping south between the stone jetties, with the wind at their backs, to enter the broadening waters of the tidal pond. On cue, on a whim or reacting to an ambulatory threat they pattered into flight north against the wind between the walls of rock to settle on the sea just outside the harbor, eventually funneling back to repeat the circuit.
This show is there for anyone to watch. [click to continue...]
by Lanny McDowell on August 1, 2009
Soo and Bob and I went out to Quansoo, parking at Crab Creek and hoofing out toward the Tisbury Great Pond opening. Shorebirds of all sizes were scattered broadly over extensive exposed tidal flats inside the the cut to the sea.
Those two guys were on scopes and I was stalking feeding birds with my Canon rig. The best moments for me were hearing the Whimbrel in my sights talk to three others winging by, then lofting to meet them. [click to continue...]
