Texas: Part IV

Sometimes, when you've been doing a lot of "target birding," you feel like you're missing all the other great birds that are hurtling past you.  This is especially true if you're in a new and exotic locale.  Everyone's looking for the Golden-cheeked Warbler, the target bird, but you're just as captivated by the red blur of a male Summer Tanager escaping behind the foliage.  That's when it's wonderful to have a relaxing day of "general birding," an opportunity to wander, explore, and discover all the new birds at your own pace.

That's what Bill had in store for us today.  The entire afternoon would be ours to explore the varied habitats surrounding Neal's Lodge in Concan.  And the adrenaline starts pumping apace...Who knows what might turn up when nineteen eager and irrepressible birders spread out, with FRS radios in hand, to cover every square inch of territory?  Then again, I don't think birders need too much provocation to get that adrenaline pumping...a pair of binoculars and a day without work will pretty much do it.

So it was to be a day of general birding.  And Neal's Lodge has much to explore.  But wait...There was one recent report of a real rarity...sporadic sightings of a special bird over the last week or so...a Tropical Parula had been reported from the banks of the Frio River, right within the confines of Neal's Lodge!  Ok, General Birding, you'll have to wait a sec'.  Special Agent Target Birding, front and center!

Tropical Parula would be a huge find.  In New England, we get Northern Parulas in summer, but Tropical Parulas are residents of Mexico and Central America.  And they're not migratory.  But every now and then, a few individuals from south of the border get antsy.  And rarely, a few move around just enough to enter our neck of the woods, usually in extreme southern Texas.  So any chance to see a Tropical Parula would be thrilling enough.  The chance to find one near Neal's Lodge was completely unexpected!

We drove down as a group to the banks of the beautiful Frio River, from where the recent reports had been emanating.  Tall, imposingly tall mature oaks and pines lined the riverside.  Just the kind of habitat the parula prefers in his usual homeland.  How much trouble was this little bugger going to cause us this morning?  As soon as we stepped out of the car, we could hear him singing.  We have to remember times like this.  So often, birders on a chase joke to one another, "Just once, I'd love to walk up and have the bird already singing."  Sometimes, you get your wish.  On a side note, another common but forlorn refrain for weary birders is "Why can't the darn bird just land right there on the fence in front of me?"  I used to think that lament was facetious hyperbole.  We would all realize otherwise one memorable night at Rio Grand Village...but that's a story for a later time...

So now, the bird was singing.  Step 1, complete.  Step 2, find the bird.  Not so easy.  The Northern Parula is the smallest regularly occuring warbler in the U.S.  It's tiny!  And guess what?  The Tropical Parula is even smaller.  And those trees towering above us were huge!  This little mite we were chasing could just step behind an oak leaf and be completely hidden if it wanted.  Our advantage was the 38 eyes we had scouring the canopy.  In the end, though, as is often the case, the diminutive parula only became visible on his own terms, when he chose to do so, and we didn't complain at all when he finally alit on a leafless branch and sang to the heavens.

He looks almost juicy, like a ripe citrus fruit!

When a bird is feeling generous, you just accept whatever he offers, without question.  So when he then teed up atop a broken-off limb and continued to sing, we just watched in quiet admiration.

Sometimes, they make it easy on you.

That mask across his face is pretty slick...is he about to rob a bank?

Fully satisfied, we left the Tropical Parula to his singing self, and departed.  On the way out, a few people caught sight of a shorebird working the edge of the river itself, a Spotted Sandpiper.

You've been "spotted"!

And now, it was almost time for us to be left to our respective devices.  But first, Bill led us to a few of Neal's feeding stations, so we'd have choices later on where to devote our attention.  One of the feeders was located amid some arid brushy scrub with comfortable chairs and benches for viewing.  A second congregation of feeders was set within a lusher tangle of impenetrable thorny bushes and trees.  We spent some time together at this second spot, mostly listening to the intriguing calls and songs originating from just within the dense cover.  Birding in these tangles can be fun but agonizing.  You hear everything but see nothing.  Birds within poignantly painful proximity pour forth songs to their hearts' content, and you are powerless.  Mere feet away, we could identify the sporadic chuckling of a Yellow-breasted Chat, the staccato burst of a White-eyed Vireo, and even the accelerating whistle of an Olive Sparrow.  Wait...an Olive Sparrow?!  A south Texas specialty, found nowhere else in the United States, and we were just within its range....Unfortunately, it loves to feed on the ground within just such dense brush as what lay before us.  We waited patiently for an opportunity to spy the sparrow, as it sang incessantly.  Perhaps enough people walking around piqued his curiosity, for he did eventually give in and pop up to peer around.

It's always nice to see a local specialty.

A bit drab?  Ask a female Olive Sparrow...

He can still put on a show like the rest of 'em.

Rabbits were common, running through the open areas of grass between the bushes.  The habitat, the size of the ears, and the color of the fur lead me to believe these are Eastern Cottontails, but I'm not a "lagomorphologist," so I'm open to suggestions!

Scientifically speaking, he's adorable!

Note the bright rusty nape.

Before finally splitting up, we all took a short drive to Neal's "Wildflower Garden," a stunning and serene patch of grassy field and flowers.  Salvia was in bloom.  Grasshopper Sparrows sang from every available perch.  There would be difficult choices where to spend our time in the afternoon.

After breaking for lunch, we all separated, and now we were at our leisure to explore Neal's and see what we could turn up.  Deciding just where to concentrate your birding efforts was a nerve-wracking endeavor, but it was made easier by the fact that we all stayed in radio contact, so if something exciting were found, we would all know about it.  I headed back to my cabin for a short time to recompose, and in the trees just above my parking spot, a Brown-crested Flycatcher had contentedly decided just where he would be spending his afternoon.

His distinctive call confirmed the identification.

Once again ready for action, I decided, out of all the options available to me, that the most fun adventure would be to accompany Barbara and Gene up the "Buchanan Trail," where none of our party had yet explored.  The trail goes up a hill into juniper and oak woodlands, just where the Golden-cheeked Warblers like it.  It's a peaceful, secluded path with a gentle climb, cool in the shade of the canopy, lined with exotic looking wildflowers unknown to me.  Some of these flowers instantly grabbed my attention...And once again, I need help identifying them.  If anyone has any ideas, add them in the comments below!  Look at these mesmerizing specimens:

Looks like a face!

(Edit: Barbara has once again come through with the ID!  It's False Dayflower!)

Barbara, Gene, and I were intrigued by this unique flower along the path.

(Edit: What a relief to find out that it's native!)

Is this even real?

(Edit: Barbara has revealed in the Comments below that this is a Lantana species.)

It's looks like something out of a Dr. Seuss book!

(Edit: It's a tropical flower, and the hummingbirds love it!)

It was the height of the day, and we weren't hearing much in the way of birdsong...at first.  But after ten minutes or so of climbing, we heard the telltale wheezy song of a Golden-cheeked Warbler.  For such an endangered bird, every encounter with this warbler fills my heart with excitement and possibility.  We moved stealthily toward the source of the sound, making our way through the open woods, until the song was directly over our heads.  And not very high, at that...The bird seemed to be just on top of us!  And when we finally spotted it, we were all treated to one of those breathtaking moments that birders always remember.  The male Golden-cheeked Warbler was sitting just feet above us, wary but unperturbed, and singing, with food in his bill.

I don't mean to be finicky, but could you move your head just a bit to the side?

Ahhh, that's better!  And look, he's got a snack...for a nearby nestling?

Just how was he singing so vociferously while clenching that poor little morsel so tightly in his bill?  It was a wonderful sighting the three of us fully enjoyed.

For the rest of the afternoon, I wandered all over Neal's Lodge, visiting the feeders, walking the paths, sharing information with the other members of my team...And with no target in mind, every avian encounter was a welcome surprise.  Here were some of the highlights.

Bewick's Wrens are heard so often...but seeing one is always a treat!

Amidst our various wanderings, Art and I crossed paths, just in time for this next stunner to alight in front of us:

The Scott's Oriole is one of my favorite avian vocalists...a true flautist!

When you take the time to look closely at the crown of a Golden-fronted Woodpecker, they're really gorgeous!

It looks like he dipped his head in magic marker!

That bill looks dangerous...especially if you're a grub.

I think you can see his tongue sticking out...Click on the picture to see!

Canyon Towhees were so ubiquitous, you tended to forget about them.  But they're very charismatic.

Can you see the rusty red vent?

As I continued to explore new paths around Neal's, more chance encounters would arise, sometimes affording me intimate opportunities to get to know the locals.  This Lark Sparrow wasn't shy at all:

"These bars can't contain me."

Looking a bit ruffled...

Recomposed once again.

Now the other side...

Ready to face the day.

For reasons unknown to me, he flew in close to say hello, and posed for what ended up being one of my favorite photographs of the trip.  This condensed version doesn't show in full detail.  Click on the photo below to see the original:

Sometimes, the birds like to take the spotlight.

One species that became extremely familiar to all of us was the Vermilion Flycatcher.  Utterly striking and aptly named, both males and females surveyed the scene from many an exposed branch, sallying forth to capture flying insects before returning to the same perch.

Impossible to miss.

And extremely handsome, too!

The female is not quite "vermilion," but her size and shape give her away.

Encircled by branches...

Calling away.

He spots his prey.

Oooh, and he snags it!  He's holding on to it, for a nestling?

Always one of the favorite common birds of the trip.

I frequently stopped by the feeders, the ones in the arid brushy zone, to get updates from the people stationed there.  A Long-billed Thrasher had come in, but I had missed it.  Black-crested Titmice were common there, and a Black-throated Sparrow had been visiting as well.  A Field Sparrow sauntered in unannounced during my brief pause:

At the western edge of their range, the Field Sparrows average grayer than in New England.

Doesn't he look pale?

Leaving the feeding station, out by one of the fields, a Scissor-tailed Flycatcher perched contentedly on some barbed wire:

Watch your toes!

Later in the afternoon, I ran into some more members of the group, and Stuart informed me that they had finally located the Bronzed Cowbird they had been tailing.  He was sitting up in some branches, hobnobbing with the Brown-headed Cowbirds.  The Bronzed, that is...not Stuart.

Hmmm...Who's the third wheel in this picture?

Perhaps the best find of the day occurred just down the path from one of the feeding stations.  As I approached, Mike told me he had spotted a Bell's Vireo coming in and out of this tree, at eye level.  We heard Bell's Vireos everywhere, but seeing them was not so easy.  And suddenly, I heard Mike exclaim, "There it is.  It's coming in...and it's building a nest!"  And sure enough, as we watched, a pair of Bell's Vireos flew in with some soft, stringy stuff in their bills, took turns sewing the raw materials into the growing nest, and flew off to collect more.

An incomprehensible feat of engineering.

A much brighter Bell's Vireo than what we find further west!

Just before dinner, I decided to make one last stop at the feeders.  A Carolina Chickadee was apparently excavating a nest hole off to the side of the chairs and benches.  That's what I thought at first, when I saw a chickadee entering and leaving the hole.  But there weren't any wood chips flying around.  Perhaps the excavation was already complete?

Oh, I see...Is that food for hungry chicks?

Time to head out and resupply.

Just then, I was lucky enough to witness some precious bird behavior.  I captured the series on camera, so you can follow the action yourself as you scroll down through the photos:

One of the pair passes its catch to the other, who holds on to it before disappearing back into the nest hole.  Such are the moments that make birding so unpredictable, and so special.

The dinner hour was upon us, but even the short walk from the parking lot to the front door of Neal's restaurant couldn't keep us from birding!  In fact, the area around the restaurant was one of the more productive areas!  The dinner special of the night seemed to be birds with yellow throats...A Yellow-throated Warbler sang constantly from the treetops, only occasionally emerging to allow satisfying looks:

Another aptly named species!

A Yellow-throated Vireo similarly sang from within the canopy, and just as seldomly begrudged us the opportunity to view him:

There you are, at last!

Finally, after dinner, we staked out a spot near the entrance to the bat cave road where Car 3 had discerned a Chuck-will's-widow calling the night before.  We lined up our cars strategically, and as dusk overtook the day, we waited.  We ended up hearing several individuals calling close by, but were unable to see them.  Just at the end of our twilight session, a big, dark, floppy silhouette swooped over our car and disappeared silently into the woods just next to us.  A Chuck-will's-widow to be sure, but just a phantom...denizen of a dark world we could not hope to penetrate.  Such nocturnal birding always impresses upon me how mysterious and unknowable fully half the day remains.  And though we struggle with moderate success to peer behind nature's curtain during the day, our weapons of perception fail after sunset, and the ghosts of night hold sway.