De Cranes! De Cranes!

 Phyllis Haehnle cont:

Whew! Sorry about the delay in finishing the crane posts. We had our open house this past weekend and it is an amazing amount of work to get ready for. There was more work than usual for this one as we redid some of our road signs and I redesigned our note cards. Add in all the usual stuff, like cleaning the house and yard, hanging and tagging the show, creating advertising, blah blah, and I spent the better part of the past 10 days doing little but open house stuff. In addition I had a commission to finish to deliver today up in Traverse City, so I've been busting my tail. The work was well worth it but I am glad it's over!

So back to Phyllis Haehnle....

I settled down on a bench after chasing the kinglet around the apple trees, and waited for the cranes to arrive. I didn't have to wait long. Around 5:45 I heard some calling beyond the trees to the southwest. A group of about 50 cranes flew in right overhead, and deposited themselves in the marsh.

A few minutes later another group of about 50 birds joined them.

There was a lull, and then I could hear them, farther off than the first two groups, coming in from the northwest into the northern section of the marsh. Even at this distance, I could tell there were a lot.

"A lot" is an understatement.

They came streaming in, dozens, hundreds, of cranes, to the northern end of the marsh. Flying with them were huge flocks of blackbirds.

It seemed to go on forever. Finally a short break, and the cacophony coming from the marsh was incredible as the cranes jostled for a spot to spend the night.

Then it started again, hundreds of cranes and blackbirds pouring in, flying over the prairie where earlier I'd seen the buckeye butterfly.

I was dumbfounded. I must have witnessed nearly 2000 cranes flying in to roost. It was one of the most spectacular things I've ever seen. I can't imagine what it's like in Nebraska at the Platte River, or what the snow goose migration is like, where there are tens of thousands of birds.

I imagine by now the bulk of the cranes have gone south. I know there are some still hanging around--I heard a pair just yesterday morning, flying past the house. This is definitely going on the calendar for next year, as this was something I want to experience again!

Haehnle Prairie, and a Ruby Crowned Kinglet

Phyllis Haehnle Sanctuary cont:

I had arrived at the sanctuary with enough time to walk the short trail that loops around the western edge of the 900 acre site. Leaving the marsh and prairie the trail first enters a mixed hardwood forest. The oaks were in their glory, most of the other trees having already shed their leaves.  There is something so inviting about a leaf-lined path, like it's paved in gold.

Upland forest at Haehnle.

The path passes Eagle lake on the left. A shallow-looking lake, it appeared to be quite low. We had a very hot, dry summer but had received over five inches of rain in October (at least at home). It has filled many empty ponds around my place, so I was surprised to see this lake still so low.

The path eventually leads to the second prairie in the sanctuary. I entered from the southwest, just as the sun broke through the thick gray clouds.

Most of the flowers were done, but here and there goldenrod was still in bloom. They were all covered with insects searching for one last meal.

I chased butterflies in the afternoon sun.

Buckeye butterfly.

The path looped around and turned to the southeast. The prairie was now back-lit with hazy sunshine.

Re-entering the woods I nearly stepped on this eastern garter snake. It was not a particularly warm day, and he was slow to move.

Back at the marsh I deposited my stuff on a bench near a cluster of old apple trees. I had heard a few small flocks of cranes fly in while I was in the prairie, but the sky was still very quiet. I thought I might find someone interesting in the apple trees, something to do to fill the time waiting for the arrival of the cranes.

I was right--staring into the trees from my spot on the bench I finally detected some movement.

Most of my shots look something like this!

I went over to investigate and found a ruby-crowned kinglet gleaning insects in the tangled branches of the trees. Occasionally she paused long enough for me to get a clear shot. I don't think I have attempted anything more difficult than trying to get pictures of a bird actively feeding in a tree on a cloudy evening.

Sweet face! Love the orange feet on black legs.

A nice look at her lemon-edged feathers.

  I am assuming this is a female. If it was a male, his red crown was very well concealed.

The best for last!

As the light dimmed I gave up on the kinglet and went back to my bench. Within minutes, the calls of the cranes could be heard beyond the trees at my back.

Phyllis Haehnle Memorial Sanctuary

Every Tuesday now I try to take a "me" day. This is a day when I go and do whatever I want--go for a hike, a drive, see a movie, sit in a cafe, stay home even. Kind of like my weekend, this is a solo endeavor, a chance to get some alone time. No meal planning, no house work, no running a business. Just me, free.

A few weeks ago I decided to visit the Phyllis Haehnle Memorial Sanctuary. Located near the Waterloo Recreation Area and operated by the Jackson Audubon Society, it's in a pretty rural, undeveloped area north of Jackson, Michigan. It is a staging area for the greater sandhill crane, who amass there by the thousands before they fly south for the winter. I had been there only one time before, and had gotten there late, missing the bulk of the fly-in. This time I arrived around 3pm, planning to hike the short trail and then find a bench and watch the cranes come in.

Phyllis Haehnle Sanctuary from the observation area. Restored prairie in the foreground, Mud Lake Marsh in the background.

When I arrived no one else was there yet. I wandered over to the kiosk to read about the preserve and pick up some pamphlets.  According to the literature the sanctuary is over 900 acres and includes Beech and Oak forests, a hardwood swamp, a fen, and two restored prairie areas. Thanks to the varied habitat it is a great place to see lots of different kinds of birds. Over 200 bird species have been recorded there, as well as over 35 species of butterflies.

I saw a flock of cedar waxwings in the trees around the observation area but they were up at the tippy tops and impossible to photograph. I noticed movement closer to eye-level and found a sparrow with a yummy morsel in the lower branches of the trees.

White-crowned sparrow, female or immature.

When I saw this bird and the one that follows I thought they were field sparrows. Goes to show how well I do field ID's!

The bird left the tree and I followed it to some better light in the grass at the edge of the marsh.

Stretching out for a nibble.

After getting home and looking at the images I could see this was not a field sparrow but a white-crowned sparrow. The give-away for the ID were the white wing bars, plus the pale pink bill and partial eye ring. I don't know if this is a female or immature, but if I had to guess I'd say a female.

There were no cranes to be heard yet so I set foot on the trail that leads into the woods to see who else might be about, but that is for next time.

Of Turkeys and Eagles

SLBD continued:

After a walk to the beach and a shower I drove back to my campsite. Boy was I ready for dinner and a book! But as I pulled into the campground I saw three wild turkey hens, who were hanging out near the campground host's site. I was excited and yet not--I really was tired, but I knew I could not ignore these beautiful birds, so near at hand. I parked the van and went back to an empty site with my camera to get some photos.

Wild turkey hen in the Platte River campground.

They moved steadily through the campground, poking around in the duff looking for yummy bits to eat.

They came within six or seven feet of me. Obviously they were quite used to people.

Such gaudy plumage! I think they look like a five year-old put them together.

Such sweet faces and expressive eyes--they look vulnerable with their bare heads. How do they handle winter?

I eventually went back to camp and made dinner. While I ate they walked right through my site and past my table. What a gift!

The next morning, Friday, I left Sleeping Bear Dunes. My plan was to drive to Grayling, in the middle of the state, and drop off some artwork at a gallery that is carrying our work, then drive up to Hartwick Pines State Park, a few minutes north of town. I was going to hike along the Au Sable River and stay Friday night at the park, then go home Saturday. But once I was on the road I felt more like heading home instead of camping another night. I decided to just go to Grayling and then go home.

The GPS took me to Grayling by way of Traverse City on M-72, which skirts the southern shores of the west and east arms of Grand Traverse Bay. I wasn't real excited to be in Traverse City during morning rush hour. But as M-72 rounded the east bay and began to head north I happened to look out at the water. There, standing on a sand bar, where two bald eagles. I whipped off the road into the parking lot of a defunct hotel, grabbed my gear and sprinted across the road. I noticed a few other folks with cameras down the shore.

A pair of bald eagles in the east arm of Grand Traverse Bay.

The morning light was soft on them but they were a ways away--these images are all cropped quite a bit. It was not warm--low 40's at best--and a stiff breeze was blowing from the south. I hadn't bothered to throw a coat on and it wasn't long before I was shivering.

The eagle on the left is munching on a tasty morsel.  Mmmmmm....

While the eagles were pretty they weren't doing much and I soon got distracted. One eagle flew off while I was watching some ducks out on the bay. Then I got distracted my a killdeer who landed in front of me in the muddy muck near shore.

Killdeer on Grand Traverse Bay

I looked up in time to see the second eagle take to the air.  Such majesty--and to think we very nearly wiped them out. Turkeys too were hunted to dangerously low numbers. Their comeback is a testament to what good, sound regulations can do.

Ben Franklin had wanted the wild turkey to be our national symbol, but we ended up with the eagle instead. I think either would have been a great choice.

And thus ends the Sleeping Bear Dunes posts--finally!

Siskins and Plovers

SLBD continued...

After lunch at Art's Tavern in Glen Arbor, I picked up a few new books at the Cottage Book Shop and then headed back south along the coast towards the campground. My plan was to go back to the beach at Platte Bay where I'd seen the piptits and chill for the rest of the day.

I got sidetracked, however, by a small park on the western side of Glen Lake. It sits right across M-109 from the famous Dune Climb. This is not for the faint of heart. It's 206 feet to the top and the whole trail, which is 3.5 miles, takes 3 to 4 hours to hike. I think I'll pass.

Dune climb from Glen Lake.

I decided to spend my time looking for more birds, of course. I was hoping for some interesting waterfowl on Glen Lake, but all I saw were some mallards and this lone coot, hanging out with a small flock of Canada geese.

Hey, buddy, you lost?

Across the road from the park was a marshy area, pretty dried up after a dry, hot summer. This is actually why I stopped at the park--I could see some waterfowl resting on mud humps out a ways in the marsh. But they were a long way away, and I could not get any good shots. I could identify several young wood ducks by their eye ring, but the others I just couldn't tell. I did get a few shots of a bird who flew in and landed in the middle of the marsh.

Hmmmm....

I had forgotten about it until I was sorting through my photos, and when I saw it I thought well, what have we here? Even with the poor image quality, the markings on its head are pretty clear. Built like a shorebird it has a definite white eyebrow and cheek, a dark bill, and in the photo below, dark/black primaries. I decided to check Sibley's to see if anything jumped out--so many of these birds look so similar, and I was sure I would not be able to pinpoint a species. But I was surprised when one jumped out at me--the American golden plover!
 

American golden plover--fuzzy, but recognizable.

I have found the best way to get an ID on a bird is to make a guess and then do an image search online. There you are bound to find all manner of images, angles, plumage etc. that help in making a final identification. I found this image, from much the same angle as my bird, and I am 99% certain my ID is correct. Another new bird!
 

American golden plover, by Miriam Bauman

Back at the campground I parked at the trailhead instead of walking from my site. I was already getting tired, and there is a bathroom/shower facility at the trailhead, which is also where the walk-in sites are located. I figured there'd be a lot less competition for the showers there as only a few people were using this area. I would hike to the beach and back and then clean up--I was getting pretty ripe!

When I am out hiking, I almost never try to ID a bird on sight, especially if I am alone. My first objective is to photograph it--as you've seen, it's often the only way I can ID many of the birds I see. There are other factors other than my novice birding abilities that come into play, one of which is the lighting. This day, with clear skies and bright sun, the shadows were very intense, and it made detail tough to see. But I can adjust for that in Photoshop and bring out details that are hard to get in the field. That is why I didn't recognize this vesper sparrow as the same species I'd seen the day before on the dunes at Otter Creek.

Vesper sparrow checking me over. That solid eye ring is a dead giveaway.

Now, as you might recall, I had decided Thursday would be beach day as winds were forecast to be less than 5 mph. Yeah, right. I knew it was windier than predicted, but when I topped the last dune I was blasted with 15-20 mph winds off Lake Michigan. I hadn't brought gloves or ear protection, so it was going to be a short visit to the beach!

I saw some more piptits but otherwise the beach was pretty deserted. I sat for a while on a log, examining footprints in the sand, but my ears got cold so I got up to leave. I noticed several gulls hovering over the water to my left and put the camera up to see what was going on. A huge flock of common mergansers--I'd guess over 100 total--were feeding in an area between two sandbars. I watched and photographed as the birds moved from south to north through the rough waters.

Common mergansers

 The waves had sculpted the beach, and the blue skies on the water created a nice contrast with the sand.

On my way back through the dunes I finally managed to get a few photos of the pine siskins that were, well, eating pine nuts up in the trees. This image is not really sharp but you can see what I think is the bird's most obvious feature--the yellow on the outer edge of its primaries, which you can just see against the blue of the sky at the bottom of its wing.

Pine siskin.

Another way to tell, of course, is when you see them eating out of pine cones!

Next, I'll finish up with a few more birds, found in a few unlikely places.

Lapland Longspurs at Good Harbor Bay

SLBD continued:

My hike around Otter Creek had left me pretty beat, and after dinner at the Village Inn in Empire I went back to the campground and collapsed. I think I was asleep by 9pm. I had already decided that the next day, Thursday, would be a beach day. It wasn't supposed to be very windy and my plan was to hang out by the big water and relax.

Yeah, right.

At dawn I drove all the way up to the far north/east end of the park, past Glen Arbor and the Crystal River up to Good Harbor Bay. There I found a large parking lot with composting toilets and info kiosk. I imagine the place is pretty busy in summer, but this morning I was accompanied only by a few men fishing from shore, a woman and her beagle, and another woman who donned hip waders and who was, I think, digging for clams or crabs.

I turned west along the bay, away from the sun, and started walking. I took a few pictures of the bay, then noticed small brown blobs moving near what looked like a dead fish.

Yeah, I know, I almost didn't see them either!

I got the long lens on them for a better look.

Not much help yet!  This is not cropped to give a sense of scale.

When I finally got a decent look at one, my first off the cuff guess was a ruddy turnstone, from the dark bib under its chin. But I quickly decided this was no shore bird. It was also definitely not an American piptit, so I got all excited, sure this was another new bird for me. (Really, additions to one's life list are easy when one's list is as short as mine!)

Hmm what the heck are you?

 

I got as close as I dared (maybe 70-80 feet?) then hunkered down in the sand and started shooting. The dead thing on the beach that I thought was a fish was, I realized today when I looked at the photos, a dead gull. Had I realized that then I may have reported it to the park service--dead birds could carry botulism that can sicken other critters that eat the carcasses.

I watched and snapped away as the mystery birds went about their business.

Remember, always keep these shots--they might help with identification later on!

After several minutes, and much to my delight, the birds started moving up the shore, right at me.

How wonderfully camouflaged they are on this rocky shore--certainly a clue to their identification. They seemed pretty at ease on the open expanse of beach. I also noticed that they walked a little funny.  Hmmmm....

 
They reminded me a bit of the snow buntings that we saw last winter at Tawas State Park. Not quiet the same but maybe the same family?

 

This bird is more boldly marked than the others--a male in winter plumage?

 

Finally one came so close that I had trouble getting the camera on it, perhaps less than 15 feet away. I was afraid to move my hands to adjust the length of my monopod, so had to lean backwards to be able to tip the camera down and still see through the viewfinder.

What beautiful rufus markings on the wings!

Notice the notched tail--another clue.

Clearly, if I could not ID this bird at this close range, I was completely unfamiliar with it. Hours later, when I stopped for lunch at Art's Tavern in Glen Arbor, I did a search in iBird, and came up with lapland longspur. Later still I checked the images on the camera and found a shot of the long spur that gives them their name. No wonder they walk funny!

Very long "spur" on rear toe, blown up for a better view.

This was another fairly rare sighting at Sleeping Bear as these birds are seen only during migration. They breed high in the Arctic on the open tundra, so of course they were comfortable on the open beach, and so well camouflaged. They winter across much of the central U.S. The males are much more colorful in summer. Longspurs are indeed in the Emberizine family, along with the vesper sparrow I'd seen the day before, and the snow buntings from last winter.

What fun! Three new birds in three days!

Lapland longspur