Migrating Songbird Fallout On Machias Seal Island (Guest Post By Lighthouse Keeper Ralph Eldridge)

I asked Ralph Eldridge if he would share some of the migrating-songbird photos he has taken as a lighthouse keeper. He tends the Canadian lighthouse on tiny, treeless Machias Seal Island, which sits on the Atlantic Flyway migration route about 12 miles from the nearest points of land in Maine and Canada (Grand Manan Island). I was especially interested in a May 24, 2011, nighttime fallout of migrating birds at the lighthouse. Pamelia and I had seen a few shots Ralph took that night and were slack-jaw amazed by the sight of so many types of songbirds—especially the variety of warblers—together. The birds were exhausted and in desperate need of rest after flying for untold hours and miles on their journey from wintering grounds as far south as the Caribbean and South America. 

Migrating songbirds (including what appear to be yellow, Blackburnian, black-and-white and common-yellowthroat warblers, American redstarts and ovenbirds, among others) on the lighthouse at Machias Seal Island. (photo by Ralph Eldridge)

Imagine what it must have been like to see the variety and number of birds that were on the ground, on the stairs and raining down in the May 24, 2011, bird fallout on Machias Seal Island. (photo by Ralph Eldridge)

Ralph sees an extraordinary mix of birds. Machias Seal Island and its surrounding waters are protected under Canadian law as a bird sanctuary. The island is not only a crucial migratory resting point, but also an important seabird nesting site. It is home to one of the southernmost colonies of Atlantic puffins. Songbirds drop onto the island day and night during migration season, Ralph says. "Some stay for a few hours while a few will hang around for several days," he notes on his web page. "Many of these birds congregate around the lighthouse and the lightkeeper's dwelling at night. During the night flights the house would fill with birds if the windows were left open." 

Machias Seal Island

Ralph agreed to write a few paragraphs about bird fallout based on his decades of watching it happen. Here's his description of fallout and what to do (or not do) if you ever encounter it: 

"Fallout is a term for the frequent, sometimes spectacular grounding of migrant songbirds. These fallouts are sometimes confused with incidents involving birds being confused, lured and trapped by lights. However, they are distinctly different events.

"Perhaps a word of caution is appropriate to anyone fortunate enough to witness a big fallout, especially when birds have been flying over water. Regardless of appearances, the birds are utterly exhausted and everyone should resist the temptation to get close or otherwise disturb them. They desperately need to sleep, rest and feed, not waste energy avoiding people. That 'just one close-up' could well cost the bird its life. 

During a fallout, Ralph says, "you don't grab your camera and charge outside. That's how you kill birds. You avoid contact as much as possible. And that's why I don't have decent photos of any fallout." His images of the May 2011 fallout are nevertheless stunning. (photo by Ralph Eldridge)

Another amazing mix of migrating birds on the Machias Seal Island lighthouse. (photo by Ralph Eldridge)

Again, the May 2011 bird fallout on Machias Seal Island. (photo by Ralph Eldridge)

Wow—this looks like an image a graphic artist would create for a bird guidebook to show a comparison among different species. (photo by Ralph Eldridge)

How many of these can you identify? (photo by Ralph Eldridge)

You can see why Ralph is careful during a fallout not to disturb the resting birds, which cover nearly every available surface. (photo by Ralph Eldridge)

Ralph continues: "With normal weather, millions of songbirds migrate through the night. They land early in the morning, rest and feed through the day and resume their travel the following night. While over land, the birds can disperse over a wide area and the daily 'fallout' goes mostly unobserved.

"Here's a link to an article about research into migrant use of coastal islands: http://umainetoday.umaine.edu/archives/spring-2011/songbird-superhighway/

"Birds get pushed close to their limits of exhaustion when they have to cross open water, so the birds tend to come down soon after making landfall. Adverse wind, fog, rain and cold further tax the birds' reserves and force them to land at the first opportunity.

"Also, the further along the route, the lower the birds' energy reserves. Our songbirds are little more than feathers and skeletons by the time they hit 45 degrees north latitude. They can't waste energy looking around for good habitat. It's more a matter of grabbing 40 winks and a quick mouthful anywhere they can, just to survive. 

Ralph says that on some nights large groups of just one or two migrating species will land at the Machias Seal Island lighthouse, but this fallout flock was very much a potpourri. (photo by Ralph Eldridge)

Ralph goes on: "An adverse weather system may completely stall the migration for days, so when the migration does resume there's a huge pulse of birds concentrated along the migration front.  Any morning after a surge, big fallouts can be seen. It helps to have relatively open, barren habitat, like a treeless island or shoreline, to aid viewing.

"Now put all the adverse stuff together: migration stalled for days, an big open-water crossing, no favorable wind, precipitation and thick fog and poor visibility. The stage is set for a spectacular fallout.

I love the black mask on that male common-yellowthroat warbler on the far left. (photo by Ralph Eldridge)

"Taxed to their limits, many birds can barely reach the intended landfall. Many birds will not reach their landfall and are forced to alight anywhere that they can. Often that's into the water. Sometimes it's aboard a boat. And sometimes it's on an island along the route, like Machias Seal Island.

"The May 2011 fallout was just one event which I happened to post. Fallouts happen to lesser and greater extent every migration. Just like tornados or snow storms, they are somewhat predictable, but the size, intensity, timing, makeup and duration are subject to a host of variables.

"The May 2011 fallout was fairly typical. The weather was not stormy, but there was fog, drizzle and reduced visibility.

"I expect some birds every night during the migration, usually showing up around the lighthouse a few hours after dark through to the pre-dawn. In this case the adverse flight conditions, especially the low visibility, produced more than usual.

With its distinctive black cap, the yellow bird on the lighthouse windowsill appears to be a Wilson's warbler. (photo by Ralph Eldridge)

With its distinctive black cap, the yellow bird on the lighthouse windowsill appears to be a Wilson's warbler. (photo by Ralph Eldridge)

"Type and numbers in the 2011 fallout? No real idea. Certainly tens of thousands passing with lots dropping down, many milling about, lots trying to find a perch and some simply sitting on the ground and sleeping. This particular flight was well mixed, so there were dozens of species. Some flights are dominated by just a handful of species."

Two blackpoll warblers share a potentially lifesaving midnight snack—a reminder of how important insects are to the survival of birds. (photo by Ralph Eldridge)

Many thanks, Ralph, for giving us a clearer picture of bird fallout and a glimpse of the remarkable species that visit the lighthouse on Machias Seal Island in the Gulf of Maine. For anyone who would like to see more of Ralph's stunning bird photos from the island, check out his web page at http://www.pbase.com/lightrae/image/135054460

 —Craig Neff and Pamelia Markwood

What Does Catastrophic Molt Look Like on Elephant Seals and Penguins?

These fascinating photos show what's known as a "catastrophic molt." It's a dramatic variation on the more gradual molting process that some animals undergo to replace old feathers, fur, hair or skin. The first two photos, taken by our friend Jenny Varley, a British photographer and conservationist, on the Islas San Benito off Baja, show Northern elephant seals losing their old skin and fur. This is happening with the females right now. The seals must haul out and stay ashore for nearly a month, unable to enter the water to feed because of temporary sensitivity to temperature change. (Elephant seals are unusual in this way; most other seal species can replace their skin and fur gradually while in the water.)

Northern elephant seal molting on the Islas San Bonito. (photo by Jenny Varley)

Photo by Jenny Varley

Pamelia and I were amazed to see thousands of king penguins undergoing a catastrophic molt (third photo) on our awe-inspiring recent trip to Antarctica (http://www.thenaturalistsnotebook.com/our-blog/on-a-beach-with-200000-king-penguins-and-thousands-of-elephant-seals). They too had to stay out of the water, unable to feed, for weeks.

King penguin molting at St. Andrews Bay on South Georgia Island. (photo by Craig Neff)

King penguin molting at St. Andrews Bay on South Georgia Island. (photo by Craig Neff)

Molting animals can look unusual—feel free to share with us any shots you take of interesting ones. And if you want to see more of Jenny's wonderful wildlife photography, check out http://www.jennymvarley.co.uk/ Thanks, Jenny!  —Craig Neff and Pamelia Markwood

How a Pileated Woodpecker Works

Pamelia photographed this majestic pileated woodpecker (a male—see the red cheek patch?) jack-hammering a tree 20 times a second, his bill pounding the wood at a head-rattling 15 mph, his eyelid closing...sideways?

Photo by Pamelia Markwood

Photo by Pamelia Markwood

Photo by Pamelia Markwood

Yup. Woodpeckers (and some other birds, reptiles and sharks) have not only upper and lower eyelids but also a thick inner eyelid called the "nictitating membrane" that's clear or translucent and closes horizontally. It lubricates the eyeball without blocking the bird's vision (especially important during flight) and helps hold the eyeball in place when the woodpecker pummels a tree. "Nictitating" comes from a Latin word meaning "blink."

Photo by Pamelia Markwood

The huge, nearly crow-size, pileated (you can say PILL-ee-ated or PIE-lee-ated; the word means "crested") is a thrill to see or hear, as many of you know; its loud "wuk-wuk-wuk-wuk" call sounds like something from the jungle. But its anatomy is even more amazing. To handle the force of up to 12,000 tree pecks a day, the pileated has evolved extra-dense neck muscles, a compressible skull bone and a brain that doesn't slosh around in cerebral spinal fluid in its head (as human brains do, causing concussions and worse during skull impacts). Pileateds have virtually none of that fluid in their heads.

Photo by Pamelia Markwood

Notice in Pamelia's photos how the pileated uses its powerful four-toed talons and its long tail for grip and balance when pounding away. Her picture of the woodpecker pausing to scratch his head shows how wide the talons can spread. Two toes can point forward and two backward for extra bark-gripping strength. "I felt privileged to be able to watch him for an hour working on the tree," says Pamelia. "I was filled with joy to have experienced such a rare, rich, priceless moment."

Photo by Pamelia MarkwoodPhoto by Pamelia Markwood

Photo by Pamelia Markwood

Photo by Pamelia Markwood

Photo by Pamelia Markwood

Photo by Pamelia Markwood

One more clue (besides the male's red check patch) if you're trying to identify male or female: The red crest on the female goes only two-thirds of the way forward on the crown of her head, not all the way to the bill, as it does on a male. Wuk-wuk-wuk-wuk! Happy woodpecker-watching! —Craig Neff and Pamelia Markwood

Burrowing-Owl Mural in Arizona

In response to our recent post on the challenges faced by burrowing owls, artist Teresa Dendy sent us photos of a burrowing-owl mural she painted in Phoenix, Arizona.

A tiny piece of Teresa Dendy's Phoenix mural of burrowing owls.

Teresa wrote, "My daughter and I helped relocate burrowing owls through an Audubon Society program. It has an over 90% success rate and we got to see the chicks. In honor of this program, the lovely dedicated people at Audubon, and these wonderful birds, I painted a huge burrowing owl mural along the Salt River in Phoenix. This is only part of the mural. I don't have a camera that captures all 70 feet of it."

Teresa's riverside mural isn't just beautiful; it also teaches people about burrowing owls' diet and habitat. Here are more shots that she shared.

Note the scale—it's not just 70 feet long but also almost 10 feet tall!

Teresa notes that burrowing owls have a "goofy charm" when parallaxing—that is, tilting and turning their heads to better see an object.

Burrowing owls in Arizona sometimes kill and eat sandsnakes, says Teresa, who studied the owls as part of the Audubon program.

Having lost other burrow options to human development of the land and the decline of prairie dogs (whose burrows they sometimes use), burrowing owls now sometimes nest in human-made objects like drainage pipes. Conservation groups even put those pipes (and other possible burrow replacements) out to help the owls.

Teresa included a chick in this portion of the mural.

Teresa the artist jokingly calls this owl "the critic." 

The volunteer work Teresa and her daughter did to help the owls is inspiring—an example of how all of us can find ways to help animals if we choose to. Many thanks, Teresa! —Craig Neff and Pamelia Markwood

Burrowing Owls in Florida

Thanks to Frank Garcia for this fantastic shot of a pair of burrowing owls. Frank took it at one of the busiest sports complexes in Broward County, Florida—and therein lies a tale about the fascinating but beleaguered burrowing owl.

Photo by Frank Garcia

These small birds, just 10 inches long and six ounces in weight, are longish-legged, ground-roaming owls that hunt in daylight and normally live in burrows abandoned by prairie dogs and ground squirrels, or (particularly in Florida) dug by the owls themselves. Such burrows and the the land in which to dig them are harder to find, however, in a landscape taken over by humans, which explains why as few as 10,000 breeding pairs remain and why some of the owls end up nesting in piles of PVC pipe or other human detritus (sometimes intentionally placed by conservationists to help the birds).

It's interesting to note that at breeding time, burrowing owls cover the ground near the entrance to their burrows with animal dung (which attracts dung beetles and other insects for the owls to eat) as well as human junk such as as bottle caps, cigarette butts and tin foil (which may send a signal to other owls that the burrow is occupied). According to the Cornell Lab of Ornithology, burrowing owls have an unusually high tolerance for carbon dioxide, a trait they evolved so they could survive CO2 buildup in their burrows.

I remember feeling sickened a few years ago when I read accounts of humans taking potshots at these embattled little owls (as a "sport") when the birds left their burrows. We all owe Frank our thanks for showing us how beautiful these owls are, and reminding us of their fragile status in the wild. (Burrowing owls are listed as a "species of special concern" in Florida.) Like many other amazing animals, these birds were here long before we humans came along. Let's hope they can survive us. —Craig Neff and Pamelia Markwood