Proclamation

This past third Sunday of the month started out like so many over the last twenty years at Halibut Point with an early morning birding walk led by Peter Van Demark. But it was a special occasion in that Peter is departing on a five-month sabbatical and the Park staff had a surprise for him.

The birding flock, November 19
Peter Van Demark fourth from left

A Proclamation from the Department of Conservation and Recreation Commissioner Brian Arrigo was waiting at the Visitors' Center, along with coffee and cake for a gathering on the deck. The outdoor setting was just fine for the many well-wishers who had been bundled up for the two-hour bird-watching excursion.

An excerpt from the Proclamation

Ramona Latham reading the Proclamation

State Park Visitor Experience Supervisor Ramona Latham organized the tribute to Peter based, she said, on the "Birding and Brownies" program held on their first meeting in 2003. She commended his 'Leadership Extraordinaire'  in every kind of weather no matter how many or few show up. "He is popular," Ramona noted, "for sharing his knowledge, passion, and joy. He is a natural educator and our visitors have expressed their gratitude over the years."

A longtime friend zeroed in on Peter's special gift to the participants. "Thank you for being the antithesis of the competitive birder, for always being  more interested in the mysteries of nature than in the number on your life list. 

"And for patiently explaining the Abc’s of birding to all of us beginning and more experienced birders, month after month, year after year.  We’ve all learned from you, about birds, and about what happens when you just show up.

"For the past twenty years, Peter has been the mailman of Halibut Point, delivering the good news about nature to all who would listen."

A Mini-Arboretum

The Halibut Point parking lot has developed into one of the Park's more fascinating areas during fall foliage season. Many of the woody plants in the traffic islands are looking particularly handsome right now. It's something of a compensatory grace after the destruction of so many tree and shrub specimens a few years ago during the landscape renovation.

Silver maple

The backbone of these plantings are silver maples, fast-growing trees originally from moist environments that also tolerate urban conditions. They were once regarded as a replacement for the majestic, blighted American elm but fell out of favor because of their brittle wood.

Silver maple

Silver maples and their close relative red maples, which are common  elsewhere at Halibut Point, are the only maple species that produce fruit crops in the spring instead of autumn. Presently they are adorned with brilliant and variable fall foliage.

Fothergilla

Fothergilla shrubs have been used extensively in the renovated traffic islands. Their leaves turn a seemingly rainbow combination of bright yellow, vibrant orange, and wine red. This member of the witch-hazel family also produces showy white bottle-brush shaped flowers in the spring.

Sweet fern

Sweet fern has been liberally planted in such a way as to colonize the traffic islands with lustrous foliage on 2-4' high woody plants with no botanic relation to herbaceous ferns but sharing the name because of the deeply lobed pinnate leaves that give off a sweet fragrance when crushed. This member of the bayberry family is quite tolerant of poor dry soils and successfully occupies parts of the granite landscape elsewhere in the Park.

Tupelo

Tupelo trees thrive indigenously in Park lowlands and along the edge of quarry ponds. The ones pictured here around the parking lot are prospering in moist grassy areas, as distinct from the traffic islands. They are among the most vividly colored of woodland plants in the fall.

Witch-hazel

Native witch-hazels are the last shrubs to flower. They produce exquisite strap-like petals in October and November at the same time that the nut-like fruit from last year's flowers are maturing on the branches.

White oak

White oaks make up one of the preeminent hardwood components of eastern North America. The foliage of this sapling is not as colorful as many others of its type scattered through the Park, but itshighly textured bark makes an interesting feature. Given open space on the outer perimeter of the parking area it should develop into a massive broad-topped specimen.

All these plants originate in East Coast ecologies, although not necessarily in Essex County. They have been well chosen to link the arrival area with its surroundings and provide enduring interest to visitors.

The Big Sit, Part 4

A woodland curtain surrounds the meadow. Where they meet makes an interface between two environments. Such places provide rich bird-watching opportunities. The little mown path leading along this border hosts my Big Sit. That's where I try to keep an eye out for quick movements in both venues.

Eastern Phoebe

Some birds like this Phoebe, a type of flycatcher, use the fringe as a survey and launch station for pursuing insects over the meadow.

Least Flycatcher

Its relative the Least Flycatcher is more at home hunting mid-canopy through the trees.

Red-eyed Vireo

Red-eyed Vireos spend most of their time in the upper crown. Something unusual brought this one down to my eye level.

Blue-headed Vireo

The typical songbird plumage on the wings and body of a Blue-headed Vireo shifts into a slaty backdrop for its bizarre eye rings with a tropical touch.

Eastern Towhee

The Towhee's plumage brings that exotic look to Halibut Point all spring and summer.

Dark-eyed Junco

Juncos, on the other hand, are seen primarily early and late in the year, usually in sparrow-like flocks on the ground. Their simple feather pattern and pert yellow beak make a smile-worthy sight at close range.

Indigo Bunting

Male Indigo Buntings, one of the spectacles of the breeding season, spend the rest of the year garbed in sensible earthy hues.

Yellow-rumped Warbler

Yellow-rumped Warblers similarly tone down their appearance except for that eponymous blaze on their rear ends.

Carolina Wren

Carolina Wrens can be counted on to warm the woodlands year round with their thumb-sized flashes of color and out-sized vocalizations, "Teacher-teacher-teacher."

Hermit Thrush

The names of the preceding birds give clues about their characteristics and habits. The Hermit Thrush, a bird of dense forest understory, may be named for its retiring though not secretive ways. A few of them will stay in the area for the winter, switching their diets from insects to subsist on berries, in the manner of another cold-hardy migrant, the Yellow-rumped Warbler. This versatile adaptation gives the species a boost as well as added pleasure to the all-season ramblers of Halibut Point.

Discovering a Hermit Thrush in winter isn't as likely to come from holding to a stationary observation point. That kind of rewarding bird observation will shift to a Big Sit on the shoreline where the winter ducks are arriving.

The Big Sit, Part 3

Camped comfortably in a Big Sit I noticed a flash of orange in the meadow. I assumed it must be a migrating warbler. As is often the case, stalks of spent wildflowers prevented my camera from auto-focusing. I tipped the tripod to its side so that it functioned as a less stable but more maneuverable monopod and found the bird in the viewfinder. Amazingly I was granted a full 5 seconds to get the picture before the bird disappeared.

LeConte's Sparrow

With all that goes on in such a photographic moment I often don't have an accurate sense in the field of what the bird looks like. That comes later in reviewing the images on the computer screen. But I was pretty sure this orange creature would be interesting.

Back home I downloaded the files. The bird had a conical seed-eating sparrow beak rather than the slim pointed bill of an insectivorous warbler. It's coloration and markings weren't like anything I'd ever seen. Field guides offered a couple of possibilities associated with salt marshes‒entirely the wrong habitat‒or with Midwestern prairies. I compared the photograph to online references and consulted a local expert who deemed it "a very good bird," meaning unexpected in this area. It was a LeConte's Sparrow.

Further investigations through the internet revealed what a lucky sighting if was. Cornell University's All About Birds site poetically described its behavior. "Famously elusive and stubbornly stealthy, the pumpkin-faced LeConte’s Sparrow acts more like a mouse than a bird. This short-tailed, flat-headed sparrow breeds in marshy areas of North America's great grasslands. It spends much of its time foraging on the ground for seeds and insects, often scurrying rather than flying away from danger." My subject not only popped up visibly but maintained eye contact for several seconds. Who knows what it was doing in the neighborhood, judging by Cornell's range map.

Expected range of LeConte's Sparrow

The Cornell Lab of Ornithology website

You might say that the Big Sit approach is both challenged and vindicated in the following blog entry at the Bird Watching Academy.

The LeConte’s Sparrow is a difficult bird to see well, and almost never breaks cover. Much of the breeding range is remote, so your best opportunity to find one is on its wintering grounds. Look for them by walking through dense wet meadows...and watch for anything that flushes, or better yet, pops up on top of a piece of grass for a brief moment, before disappearing again into the vegetation.

A productive Big Sit means staying quietly alert but not passive.

 My good fortune is underscored in the "Cool Facts" section of Cornell's essay on LeConte's Sparrow.

The LeConte's Sparrow is famously elusive. It stays hidden in dense grass, often running along the ground rather than flying. They're so hard to find and track that, although the species was officially described in 1790, it took scientists nearly 100 years longer to find and describe the first nest.

Bit by bit the meadow is revealing its secrets.