Around Town

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Osprey Carrying Nesting Material On The Potomac River

Ring-billed Gull @ Belle Haven Marina

Dark-eyed Junco @ Monticello Park

Song Sparrow @ Monticello Park

Spent the last couple of days bombing around Northern Virginia venues, visiting George Washington Memorial Parkway, Green Spring Park, Jackson Abbott Wetlands, and Monticello Park.

At Green Spring Park, I look in on a pair of breeding Red-shouldered Hawks. At Jackson Abbott, while trying to photograph Gadwall and Northern Shoveler, I watch a pair of Red-tail Hawks soaring together.

On the Potomac River, along the George Washington Memorial Parkway, I photograph Osprey carrying nesting material and a Ring-billed Gull at the Belle Haven Marina. At Monticello Park, I photograph a couple of sparrows.

Sky Meadows State Park

Red-headed Woodpecker

Wing-stretching

Photographing Red-headed Woodpecker's (RHWP) in the park's Walnut Grove, again. Such a treat. A couple of very obliging RHWPs around. Been out to Sky Meadows State Park often enough this winter to be able to recognize a few of the Walnut Grove's RHWPs due to some discernible plumage variation.

Besides the Red-headed Woodpecker (RHWP), a couple of Downy Woodpeckers, Northern Flicker, and Yellow-bellied Sapsucker around. RHWP busy doing RHWP stuff. Chasing other woodpeckers. Bumping some of these out of the Walnut Grove altogether. Carrying, caching acorns.

Caught a glimpse of an Accipiter (perhaps, a Sharp-shinned Hawk) and an immature Red-shouldered Hawk transiting. A couple of Red-tailed Hawks are soaring above. An immature American Kestrel makes a brief appearance in the Walnut Grove. Three crows are mobbing a Common Raven. Nice opportunity to photograph a Brown Creeper.

Steady stream of Ring-billed Gulls transiting and three Tundra Swan on the small pond across from the park's Bridle Trail suggests that spring is definitely in the air (think migration).

Another Red-tailed Hawk

Yesterday, I caught up with this immature Red-tailed Hawk while it was doing some perch hunting along the George Washington Memorial Parkway.

Huntley Meadows Park

Red-tailed Hawk

The Fairfax County Park Authority describes Huntley Meadows Park this way: 1,425 acres; majestic forests; wildflower speckled meadows; and vast wetlands, bursting with life.

Kind of an over the top description for my taste, but nevertheless; what a park! I learned to bird at a handful of Northern Virginia Parks. Huntley Meadows easily makes this short list. I can write for a long time without properly describing things I have seen, learned, and done at this park.

Truthfully, birding has nothing much to do with listing. Instead, birding is about the people you meet; venues visited; whatever it is that we manage to learn about birds, birding, and birders; and, of course, conservation.

Then, I was a baby-birder. A rube's rube, someone who has just fallen off the birding potato truck. I have my new binoculars and a field guide. And, I am on the boardwalk, birding at Huntley Meadows. No idea what I am doing, but I am in the field, birding.

Out past the park's observation platform, I find myself looking at a bird. I am trying to decide: Eastern Blue Bird or Blue Gray Gnatcatcher. LOL! Try as I might, I just can't decide.

Heading back to the Visitor's Center, but still on the boardwalk, I walk past a couple of birders who are sitting on a park bench. I do not know these birders by name, but I know enough about them to believe that these are veteran birders.

Shortly, I come across my mystery bird once gain. I look a the bird and my field guide. I am thinking Eastern Bluebird, but I just don't know. My dilemma: Being undecided, again.

I walk over to the veteran birders. When I can, I ask for help with the ID. One of these birders waves me off. The other actually laughs at me. Dammed if these veteran birders were going to waste any of their very valuable time helping a new birder out, especially one dumb enough not to be able to tell the difference between an Eastern Bluebird and a Blue Gray Gnatcatcher with binoculars and a field guide in hand.

These birders would not have given me the time of day if the three of us were standing in a clock factory. But, they have no problem mustering the nerve required to represent themselves as birders. To this day, these birders lead bird walks. One of them regularly posts to VA-Bird.

Much later, when I am no longer a baby-birder, I come to understand that this episode was my first introduction to "combat" birding. The lesson: "combat birding," in all its various forms, demonstrates a certain lack of respect for birds, birders, and birding. Another lesson: "Combat birders" are cheap imitations of the real thing.

Listen carefully: Birding at its core is about something more than trip lists. I believe that all veteran birders understand this, at least intuitively. The problem is that some get so caught up with the artifacts of birding (think listing, for instance) that they lose sight of this core birding value. Birding is all about helping others. Otherwise, why bother with the bird walks.

Forget about my Bluebird/Gnatcatcher dilemma and the outright neglect a couple of veteran birders showed me.

Friends of mine are on Possum Point Road. Veteran birders. Another veteran birder happens by and says, "Just saw a Black-and White." "Where," my friends want to know? "Right there," the veteran birder says.

My friends can't get on the Black-and-White. Instead of simply putting these birders on the bird, the birder in the know walks on, saying something like, "well, you two are just going to have to work harder."

This kind of stuff goes on all the time, but try as I might, I just can't remember the last time I read a VA-Bird post that says, "Today, I blew a couple of birders off."

Much later, I am at Huntley Meadows on a summer afternoon when it is about to rain like there will be no tomorrow. I am no longer a baby-birder. It is late in the day, a few hours before dark. I am returning to my car from the bottom of Barn Yard Run, hoping to beat the rain.

Walking back to the Visitor's Center, my feet are barely touching the ground. Barn Yard Run is one of many informal trails in the park. Near the Barn Yard Run trailhead, a sign advises park visitors that the County Park Authority does not maintain the park's informal trails.

Near the top of Barn Yard Run, I bump into two birders, guys I do not know. "Gonna rain," I say. "Looks like it," one of these birders replies in a crisp and quite proper English accent. We go our separate ways, me making for the park's parking lot, the two birders disappearing down Barn Yard Run. The guy with the English accent is wearing a yellow rain coat.

"Don't be a lemming. Learn to bird the nooks, crannies, and corners of a park," the guy with the English accent tells me, just before we part company.

Somehow, some way, the rain holds off. The sky goes from being black to some unfamiliar shade of putrid green. The wind is picking up. Still, no rain.

Maybe an hour later, I run into one of the two birders in the park's parking lot. He wants to know if I have seen his companion? The guy sporting the English accent and yellow rain coat is MIA. Still, no rain.

By this time, Mother Nature is all done screwing around. It is going to rain and rain hard. The birder is worried about his companion. The two got separated on Barn Yard Run. The birder that I am now speaking with gave up looking for his friend on Barn Yard Run, returning to the parking lot, thinking that perhaps his companion might somehow be here.

"I'm worried about David," the birder says to me. "This is his first time in the park, and I don't want to see him get stuck out there in this storm. And, I really don't want to leave the park without him."

"David have a car here? "No, I drove," the birder tells me. What are you going to do now," I want to know?"

"Guess I will wait here in the parking lot until David shows up," the birder says to me. A few minutes later, I watch this birder heading back into the park." He's going to look for his friend.

The weather continues to hold, but believe me; it's going to rain. I'm gearing down at this point, glad to be out of the park. A couple of minutes later, I am heading back into the park. I catch up with the birder who is looking for his friend. "How well do you know Barn Yard Run, I want to know?"

"Not real well. Been down as far as the power cut once or twice." Where did you and David get separated," I ask? "Down on one of the marshes," the birder tells me. "How far down," I ask. "Not sure," the birder tells me. "David went into the marsh. I stayed on the trail. We were walking pretty close to each other for a while, him in the marsh, me on the trail. Somehow, we got separated."

"All right," no point in both of us getting wet. I know my way around down there. I'll go. Stay with your car."

"David have any medical problems?" "None that I know of," I am told. "All right, you hang here. If David shows, don't come after me. If you two can't hang around, slip a twig under one of the windshield wipers on my car. Otherwise, be here when I get back." I hand the birder a slip of paper and pen. "Give me your name and phone number. David's too."

Continuing, I say, "I will not be off the Barn Yard Run Trail. Once I make the power cut, I'll stay on the power cut, heading south. Eventually, I'm going to cut an informal trial that will bring me back to the main Barn Yard Run Trail. From there, I will coming back up Barn Yard Run, returning to the parking lot; not by way of the boardwalk, but by Blue Heron Trail.

No reason why I should not be back in an hour or so. If I am not back in the parking lot in an hour and a half, send help." If the Visitor Center is closed, which will probably be the case, call 911. (This takes place long before I own a cell phone.)

"Understand my route," I want to know? "All right, sit tight."

Before I make the park's boardwalk, the rain comes, with lots of driving wind, dark thunder, and eager lighting. I give some thought to waiting the storm out, but I know what the Barn Yard Run Trail is like once its gets wet. And, if David is out there turned around, I have no idea how lost he may be, where he is, or if he needs some help. I know from experience that there are pockets of deep, wet mud at the bottom of the Coast Guard Marsh.

My plan is simple enough. No way I can avoid the rain, though I hope to avoid falling tree branches and stray lighting bolts. I could have waved these guys off. Laughed at a couple of guys' stupid enough to go birding in the teeth of a nasty summer storm. "Don't be a lemming," David told me, "as he and his buddy disappeared down Barn Yard Run.

Long story short. I get back to the parking lot. I'm washed out, and I find an equally washed out note under one my wiper blades. Haven't seen these birders since, but David's advice forever changes how I bird.

The lesson has nothing whatsoever to do with me wearing the white hat, though making the time to help others (think Bluebird/Gnatcatcher) and learning to be worthwhile birding ambassadors are lessons that apply, at least in some small way.

"Don't be a lemming," David told me. What he was saying to me, I think: Get off the trails whenever one can. Learn to bird a park's nooks and crannies.

Not to be misunderstood, it is never all right to roll around a venue like a B.B. in a box car, with no respect for park rules, sensitive habitat, and common sense. And, it is usually not a good idea to be birding in inclement weather; and yes, some venues have rules that restrict visitors to formal trails.

Instead, the lesson that I began learning that day at Huntley Meadows has everything to do with taking the time to learn how to bird a venue more carefully, within the construct of park rules, common sense, and good birding practices.

The object of the exercise is not the number of species seen; but is, instead, learning to enjoy a venue regardless of the number of species seen. After all, the longest trip list says nothing much about a venue. This same trip less says even less about birding, real birding.

Find fresh edges. Take the path less travelled. Make the time to bird formal trails that may be less well known. Where possible, and when advisable, learn to bird a venue's informal trails. Bird the edges of sensitive habitat respectfully.

Slow down. Learn how to watch birds more carefully, thoughtfully, and respectfully. Record field notes, if you wish too. Keep records of things like the early and late date a species is seen. If you are not working to support some citizen science initiative, put your trip list away.

I first tested the wisdom of this lesson at Fort Ward Park. This 57-acre neighborhood park is located near my residence. The park is hardly a listing venue. Fort Ward features a circular, tree-lined asphalt road that is .6 of a mile in length. Parking pull-offs abut the loop drive.

Park visitors, including walkers, joggers, and cyclists regularly use this park road. The loop drive is one of this park's central features. Outside the loop drive are picnic areas; an amphitheater; and open space, most of which is open to the public.

I used to only bother to bird the edges of the park's loop drive, walking around this road again and again. This road defined my understanding of the park. Inspecting the park's perimeter more closely, I find a series of informal trails that are open to the public.

These informal trails opened-up the park for me in ways that radically change my understanding of Fort Ward Park. One of these trails follows a small stream. Another transits a small piece of fragmented forest. Looking more closely, another informal trail leads me to a small wetland area and a neat migrant trap. Other informal trails transit the park's grassland edges more fully. For the first time, I find small patches of herbaceous habitat that are far removed from the park's loop drive. The day that I began walking these perimeter trails marks the day that I finally learned to bird Fort Ward Park.

I have since learned to bird all of Huntley Meadows Park. I understand the park's informal trail system. I know how to walk from the park's backside to the main park; something I was once told could not physically be done. I know how to bird the edges of the park's North and Coast Guard Marshes, both of which are well removed from the park's more public central wetland.

I saw my first Eastern Bluebirds prospecting for nest cavities along Barn Yard Run. I stopped to watch for at least a half-hour. I found a small colony of breeding Red-headed Woodpeckers along the edges of both the North and Coast Guard marshes. I know where in the Coast Guard Marsh Yellow-crowned Night Herons used to breed. I saw my first copulating Red-shouldered Hawks on the edges on the North Marsh. I watched my first Red-shouldered Hawks carrying nesting material and building a nest near the North Marsh, well away from more travelled areas of the park.

At Huntley Meadows, I have my favorite American Woodcock trails that are well removed from the Woodcock fields that others visit to see displaying Woodcock. I have seen and heard scores of Barred Owls in areas of the park that are open to the public, but are off the beaten path. In part, I taught myself to bird winter sparrows in the nooks and crannies of Huntley Meadows park.

Remaining within areas that are open to the public, today, I can bird every square foot of larger venues like Manassas National Battlefield Park and Prince William Forest Park, the largest protected green space in this metropolitan area. Learning not to be "lemming" like has made me a more complete birder, not because I see more birds than others, but because I have invested the time required to learn to bird venues more fully.

I was at Huntley Meadows this past weekend, on both Saturday and Sunday. I kept no list, had no real agenda. This time of year, with leaves still off the tress, Huntley Meadows is a great place to look for and study stick nests, both old and new. I really enjoy looking for American Woodcock this time of year at the park. The opportunity to hear a Barred Owl vocalizing, perhaps see one too, always draws me to this park this time of the year. Sure, this past weekend, I visited the park's central wetland, but, as usual, I spend most of my time birding out of the way places in the park.

I photographed the Red-tailed Hawk posted here from the hike/bike trail on the park's "backside." On the way back to my car, I bump into three birders I do not know. One of these birders is carrying a spotting scope. We stop to acknowledge each other and to exchange few pleasantries.

The birder with the spotting scope wants to know what I have seen from the observation platform located at the end of the hike/bike trail. My reply, "a couple of Northern Pintail." Pointing to the spotting scope, I add "maybe some Green-winged Teal, Hooded Merganser, and Northern Shovelers, and Wood Ducks around too."

"Keeping an eye peeled for Woodcock," I ask? The birder with the scope tells me his bird club has a Woodcock trip scheduled for next weekend." "Good to know," I say to myself.

To the birder with the spotting scope, I say: "This time of year, this time of day, with the snowcap and all, I'd be keeping an eye on all the open edges all the way down to the observation platform and back. Maybe come across a Woodcock on an edge in low vegetation, today, instead of next week."

"Yeah," the birder replies. "This time of day, your suggestion makes sense. Thanks." As we go our separate ways, I hear an English accent rolling around the back of my head: "Don't be a lemming, bird the entire park." "Always, good to know," I tell myself. Thanks, David. LOL!

A small cautionary note:

Three are no substitutes fro common sense and good judgement. Make the time to pick-up a park map, if one can be had. Gear matters, including things like hats, footwear, water, and insect repellant. Whenever possible, bird with a friend, especially when birding a venue's nooks and crannies. Carry a cell phone. Be sure to put 911 on your phone's speed dial.