birdspot

Yesterday was a 16-warbler day. This is very normal for a pretty good day during Spring bird migration. It is not a particularly amazing number (20 warbler species and up is rather nice), but there were good pockets of birds throughout the park, with some coveted FOY’s (First of Year’s) such as Prairie and Kentucky Warblers. Normal. A nice, normal day.

The morning dawned bright and beautiful, I was going to bird with Starr and Lenore & group, and was starting at the leisurely hour of 9 am. My train up the park was on time; I was eagerly and properly caffeinated.

The North Woods of Central Park do not have the best reputation for safety and comfort, but they are incredibly beautiful, and I like to bird with a group now and again so I can really scour the dirt paths and ravines that comprise the top end of the park. These trails often end at a man standing in the shadows, and are called “desire lines” or “love lines.” Other than this, it really does not feel like you are in the city, once you tune out the urban noises. You can’t even see buildings most of the time. Yesterday, however, Starr’s group must have numbered more than thirty people. Translated: many tiny birds + many birders of differing abilities = chaos. Oh, and the film guys were there too, filming the insanity.

By 9:15 a wild-eyed, wild grey-haired man had confronted the group and yelled about a 911 conspiracy involving the similarity of two phone numbers involving high and low levels of government involving the media. By 9:18 the soliloquy was over and birding began in earnest.

At about 10:30 we noticed a fair amount of smoke billowing from behind a small ridge and a couple of us ran over to investigate. “I’m sure it’s just a controlled burn,” I joked. What we found was a small brush fire, undoubtedly set by someone-smoking-something, that was moving through a good-sized area of black, smoldering leaf litter. We called 911 and film-guy Jed tried to stamp some of it out, losing leg hair in the process.

So as we listened to sirens moving away rather than towards us, along came a savior in the form of a crack-hyped, tight-t-shirted fellow who first became absorbed with watching the flames and then started jumping up and down yelling “Take some pretty pictures take some pretty pictures!” He poked at the leaves with a stick until I pointed out that he was only feeding the fire. At this point he became joyously fixated on stamping out the flames, and I left to help guide the firemen up the paths. When an entire truck’s worth of fire fighters finally reached the spot, crack guy had single-handedly extinguished a couple hundred square feet of fire.

And then I birded for a few more hours and made some calls while looking through binoculars and met a bunch of art people for dinner/drinks at the Harrison and then went to a premiere at the Tribeca Film Festival and walked down a red carpet and and sat behind an adult film star and went to their after-party and wore these shoes and watched minor celebrities and stayed up too late and if Swarovski wants to pay me I think that would be just fine and I’m totally wrecked today. The End.

A bird list from yesterday: (more…)

The weather yesterday was incredible, and Central Park was mobbed with people. I had to push through tourists at Strawberry Fields and fight my way over the Bow Bridge, but once in the wooded Ramble it was a little more manageable, and I looked for birds. It is amazing how much you can see there, even when the paths are crowded. There were two Black-crowned Night Herons sitting on the path at the Riviera, about twenty feet over a boat with two teenage boys who were pulling at the branches and trying to push each other overboard. I assumed the fracas would flush the herons, but this guy just opened one eye, looked down, scratched his cheek and let out a huge yawn.


There were sparrows and finches for all seasons: many of the winter birds are still here, and are temporarily joined by migrants and summer residents. The feeders are pretty maniacal right about now. There was proof positive that Juncos and Chipping Sparrows are not weird metamorphoses of the same specie because they were both present at the same time. There were a number of Swamp (top photo) and Song (bottom) Sparrows acting like feeder trash birds at both Evodia Field and Willow Rock. For sparrows: Eastern Towhee, Chipping, Fox, Song, Swamp, White-throated, and Dark-eyed Junco. For finches: Purple, House, Pine Siskin, and American Goldfinch.


And finally, I found a quiet spot where I followed a Ruby-crowned Kinglet around and amused myself with tangles for a while.

I know that it is Spring. I know this, despite the fact that it is freezing and I am wearing long underwear as it snows on me in Central Park, because I spotted a Louisiana Waterthrush and a Blue-grey Gnatcatcher and a couple of Yellow-rumped & Pine Warblers and numerous Eastern Phoebes AND a gazillion Chipping Sparrows. None of whom have been here all this long winter and many of whom were not here two days ago. So as I shiver and point my binoculars past a sleeping man on a park bench and see the Gnatcatcher zipping along a stream in the Ramble, I feel a little happier, if not warmer. There is a Black-crowned Night Heron in a willow on the lake, hunched over with his bill buried deep into the feathers on its back, and I sympathize, but it’s got to get better soon.

This morning the park was notable for an unusual number of Springer Spaniels (6), most with owners. One had forsaken its master and was swimming in Turtle Pond for a good half hour, intently going after ducks and geese. Other birders were none too pleased with this. The ducks and geese, while harassed, were not especially worried, and would fly just enough to be out of reach. Over and over again. The dog, driven by man-manipulated genetics to the verge of insanity, would not give up. We left as the owner gave up cajoling and progressed to howling.

For a full list of the birds I saw today, click “more” at the end of the post.

Oh, and there is some of that amazing new-green color coming up in the park, on the heels of the blooming Forsythia. Magnolia flowers are also opening. And, after getting so used to being filmed that I forget the “film guys” Jeff and Jed are there, I finally turned on Jeff while he was filming me and surprised him by shooting a photo of him.
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1975 cadillac, princeton, nj

There are some things to be found on the campus of Princeton University. For one, the Spring peepers are calling like crazy. There are also birds, and a bird sanctuary. There are overabundant, overly complacent deer, everywhere. There are parties in faculty houses that somehow meld astrophysicists with sleight-of-hand magicians and Middle East specialists and journalists, where astonishingly clear sound systems broadcast the likes of Jackie McLean and Cannonball Adderley over decanters of sherry and port in wood-paneled libraries, and where, when dinner is served, the food is all Lebanese mezza of astonishing variety. I have developed a sudden interest in Arak, cut with water and served with food. Last night was a very, very, interesting evening.