I REALLY LOVE NY

This Place Is for the Birds

A bit of time in an interesting place

Photo of a Short-eared Owl by Phil Falconer. Same place, different time.

“We may be here at the wrong time,” said Mary.

Number two of the wildlife-watching tips on the welcome board was “Watch at dusk or dawn.” Since it was mid-afternoon, my response was, “You’re probably right, but let’s take a little walk and see what we can see.”

Phil creates wonderful bird images. In conversation at the Schenectady Curling Club (What? You don’t curl?), he mentioned that the Washington County Grasslands are great for watching and photographing birds. It contains almost 500 acres of fields preserved for wildlife management. Phil has captured many great photos there.

In fact, Phil’s fantastic photos feature fabulous flying friends frequently.

Barred Owl image by Phil Falconer

Snowy Owl image by Phil Falconer

We thought we’d take a short trip to the Grasslands to check it out. But first, we stopped at the aptly named Riverside Cemetery on the banks of the Hudson. Phil had also indicated that eagles and owls might be there.

There was no sign of any owl, but after we watched its nest for a short time, a Bald Eagle flew in, disappearing into the branches high in the large white pine.

“Where’d it go?” asked Mary.

“I don’t see it.”

A ground-level search revealed that the bird had come to rest high above and beside the nest. Quickly swinging the camera into position, I captured a few photos. Time was of the essence since being directly below any bird, particularly a large bird, is a bad policy. A change of clothing was not in the car.

The author has added this excellent eagle butt photo to his collection.

“Let’s go.”

We hopped into the car and headed off the small island between the river and the Champlain Canal.

“Look at that!” exclaimed Mary.

Mary stopped the car so the author could capture this photo.

Osprey on the nest photo by the author.

“Whaddaya lookin’ at?” photo by the author.

We were soon in the grasslands parking lot. Timing be damned, we headed down the path but returned to change into less permeable footwear. Soon, we were back on our way along the hedgerow, lugging the tripod and long lens to a more central observation platform in the preserve.

Then we waited for the birds to arrive. And waited some more. The idle time allowed us to remember not to talk about politics and realize we’d forgotten the binoculars. The birds would have to come to us.

Phil and I have similar photographic equipment and processing capabilities, and with his kind direction, we go to some of the same places. But I suspect that he has with him something I rarely carry.

“Have a little patience, Randy,” intoned Mary when I started fidgeting.

“That’s exactly what I have.”

It’s not a bird, but this Six-spotted Tiger Beetle was beautifully colored and provided the author with an alternative to fidgeting.

The house to the east must have great views. Maybe that’s Vermont beyond in this photo by the author.

“Let’s go, Mary.”

“We came all the way out here. Let’s give it 10 more minutes.”

“OK.”

It’s not an eclipse, but the author found the shadowed moon craters interesting.

Nine minutes later…

“What’s that?”

“What? Where?”

“In the trees, that away,” I said. “Looks like a hawk.”

Too far away, the author captured this image.

“There he goes!”

He’s still too far away, but the author was able to take this image of the Northern Harrier.

“At least we saw one interesting bird,” I said. But just then, we heard an unfamiliar song.

The song was so loud even the hearing-impaired author was alerted to the presence of the Meadowlark. So he took this picture.

The Meadowlark sings! The author takes another photo.

The Meadowlark had posed long enough for the author.

The author captured this flash of color as distance increased.

Not long after, Mary asked, “What’s that way over there?”

“Where?”

“On the post.”

“Oh. I don’t know. But I’ll find out.” One of the benefits of contemporary photography is the ability to enlarge the subject on the spot.

“It looks like a Kestrel,” said the author after zooming in on this photo.

“I’ll try to get a little closer.”

“Don’t walk straight at him,” said Mary. But even without a direct approach, the Kestrel flew away.

“OK, that’s pretty good. Let’s pack it up and head out. Would you mind carrying the tripod so I can keep the camera at the ready?”

“I guess.”

“Thanks. Here you go.”

“This thing is heavy. You need a cart.”

“Good idea.”

We headed uphill over mushy ground toward the parking lot.

“The cart will need large pneumatic tires.”

Mary ignored me and pointed. “There he is again.”

The Kestrel was a little more cooperative this time and allowed the author to take this picture.

But he didn’t have all day to humor the author and flew towards the blurry building.

“I can take the tripod back,” as I slung the camera over my shoulder.

“Look over there,” said Mary. “In the bushes.”

Camera unslung, I captured pictures of the bird Mary indicated.

The female Bluebird is quite lovely. Detection by Mary. Photo by the author.

Mary soon pointed out the male Bluebird. There is no mystery as to why the bird is named for its hue. And in sunlight, the already bright blue feathers are strikingly iridescent.

The photos captured by the author do no justice to the true color of the bird.

Bluebird back view by the author.

Back at the car, one more bird appeared as if to say, “Hey, don’t forget about me!”

The author took this picture as the Song Sparrow bid us farewell.

Our little adventure turned out much better than expected.

I can’t wait to tell Phil that even an impatient squirrel sometimes finds a few nuts.