Month: March 2021

It’s Scaup Time

It’s finally showing signs of Spring in our garden, 

but, more importantly, the weather is improving and I’m able to get out and witness the early signs of Spring migrations on their way to their breeding sites in the Tundra.  I first sighted a large flock of Scaup in the bay outside Margaret’s house, but it was impossible to get a good shot of them because they paddled away as soon as I pointed my camera at them.

Luckily, there was a single Lesser Scaup at Port Orchard and it seemed indifferent to the camera and swam closer 

and closer.

I was a little surprised when I was at Westport a few days later to see another flock of Scaup. They, too, were pretty shy, but I liked this shot of a female Scaup as she looked back to see what I was up to.

Though my birding guide says they’re winter residents in the Puget Sound, I’ve only seen them in late Winter when they start gathering and moving North to their nesting area.

Odds and Ends

With all the rain we’ve had lately, I have only managed a few walks and there were so many people out taking advantage of the brief sunshine that there weren’t any birds near enough to get pictures of.  So, I decided to use some shots from previous trips that I haven’t posted previously.  

Although I’m well aware that Great Blue Herons nest in trees, I’m still surprised when I actually see one in a tree while not nesting.

I see a lot of Spotted Towhees on my walks, and in my backyard, but they’re usually seen skittering through the underbrush, not sitting on a branch looking down at me.

I don’t see many Red-Breasted Nuthatches, but I spotted this one on two different trips to Pt. Defiance Park so I was ready to get a shot of it before it could flit away like it did the first time I tried to get a shot.

We get quite a few Black-Capped Chickadees in our yard, but this Chestnut-Backed Chickadee, which had just emerged from a very enthusiastic bath, isn’t as common.

I would have offered it a towel, but I knew it wouldn’t stick around once I opened the patio door.

Bluebird of Happiness?

Our last trip to Theler proved once again that two pairs of eyes are better than one.  As I was busy talking to John, Leslie spotted a small flock of Western Bluebirds in the distance (it probably didn’t hurt that she had the binoculars).  They were so far away that the pictures I took with my 600m lens had to be heavily cropped to get the pictures posted below. Blown up like this, they were so grainy that I finally relented and upgraded to the latest version of Topaz Denoise.  This app does an amazing job of removing grain, which, in turn, makes it possible to sharpen the main subjects without increasing background grain.

None of these shots are quite as good as the ones I’ve taken in previous years, but we so seldom see Western Bluebirds that I was delighted to see them.  I’ll have to admit that I was having a hard time focusing on the birds themselves and focuses, instead, on the birdhouse.  Here’s a shot of two female Western Bluebirds without cropping.

Here’s the same shot cropped, denoised, and slightly sharpened.

I was trying to focus on the bright blue male in this shot.

Not surprisingly, in the sharpest picture of the sequence the male was looking away from the camera. 

Hopefully we will see the bluebirds on the boardwalk railing where we can get better shots on our next visit.  

Spring Approacheth Slowly

There are signs that Spring might actually be on the way and we can soon expect migration sightings, but for now our world (with the exception of Evergreen trees) remains largely browns and grays.  

So, it seemed appropriate that my first sighting on our latest trip to Theler Wetlands was of a Song Sparrow foraging on a pile of snow leftover from a recent snowstorm.

The sound of male Red-Wing Blackbirds trying to attract  mates echoed across the refuge, but all I actually saw was a single, female Red-Wing Blackbird.

Didn’t see any Bald Eagles, like we often do, but we did catch sight of a Red-Tailed Hawk.

The clearest sign that Spring is coming, though, was the sound of Canada Geese pairs claiming their nesting ground when another pair dared to fly over.