Pileated Woodpecker

Pileated Woodpecker

Dryocopus pileatus

I did not think that I would get a chance to photograph this great and beautiful animal in my lifetime.  It is the largest woodpecker to be found in North America, unless of course the Ivory-billed has not yet gone extinct, which is probable.  Surely the Pileated Woodpecker is not the most rare bird on the planet, but it is incredibly shy and it is not that entirely common, at least in my neck of the woods. I have seen it a couple of times, at a distance, at Protection Farm. Twice I have seen a solitary individual flying across the far end of the meadow, two or three hundred yards out.  Five or six times I have heard it calling somewhere deep in the woods. Each of these times brings excitement to my heart. 

I am well steeped in the lore of the Ivory-billed Woodpecker and wish I had a chance to see one of those before it allegedly became extinct. There is still some hope that they are surviving somewhere in the deep swamps of the south, or in Cuba, but it is a distant hope, and many of my friends refer to the Ivory-billed as the “ghost woodpecker.” Because of the general decline of birds, and because of the extraordinary rarity of my own sightings, I have come to also refer to the Pileated as a “ghost” bird. 

Not so much today.  I have had an awesome and outstanding encounter and I had my camera with me.

In the past, I have had a couple of close encounters, one of which is described below. And I have never had an encounter in which I had a functional camera. Last Sunday, that all changed.

Sunday March 20, 2011, was the vernal equinox, the first day of spring.  It also happened to coincide with what was called the “Super Moon.”

http://science.nasa.gov/science-news/science-at-nasa/2011/16mar_supermoon/

This full moon was according to NASA, the closest to the earth in 20 years and they happen rarely.

For about two weeks, spring has been onrushing. At least the days have gotten noticeably longer after a long dark, dank, and cold winter season.  The birds have changed and in the last few days the dawn songs are different. The marsh has become home to over a hundred different birds. We have seen hooded-mergansers, common mergansers, wood ducks, black ducks, buffleheads, lots of mallards and we have had a population of about 20 Canada geese that have been talking it up with the mallards all night long in the marsh for about a week.

The temperatures have been hovering between 25-40 degrees F. Most days have been overcast. About two weeks ago I was up at dawn on what would prove to be a sunny but cold day. I was in my office and went out to my living room where there is a big picture window overlooking the yard. I noticed something moving on the big white pine tree trunk about 20 yards out.  It also noticed me. It was a Pileated and it flew away immediately. That was a real exciting moment.  I hoped it would come back, but it didn’t. Later that morning and for several days after I went out to the tree and noticed that there had been some activity as the bird had obviously been visiting the tree, and pecking a hole. Not much, but a couple of times I noticed new activity. I hoped.  But I did not see the bird again. Until Sunday.

I am up early, it is still dark. I wanted to photograph the supermoon, but it was too overcast. I went to my desk and starting working on the computer. As dawn gradually emerged and the room became slightly lighter, there was a loud thunderous roar outside my window. It was the Pileated calling. The sound literally shook the room and vibrated me to my core. I couldn’t believe what I had heard.  I grabbed my camera and changed to a long lens, hoping that the bird would go to the white pine and resume work. I snuck down the still dark hallway, brought the camera to eye level and very cautiously peaked around the edge of the window, which was still across the room from where I stood.  Slowly I moved toward a view. I inched the camera forward until I could see the edge of the tree, and there staring at me, in my dark hiding place was a huge woodpecker.  I was not near enough the window to get a perfect shot, but I took a shot, and the Pileated moved rapidly around the tree and disappeared. I could not believe that it saw me. But it did.  

a little more of a pushed view

I moved to the couch, and set up low, fairly hidden from the outdoors world. I put the camera on the back of the couch, crouched down and waited. And waited. I thought the bird might be behind the tree and might come back. But it didn’t. I waited almost 20 minutes before I finally gave up.  By now the sun had broken through the clouds and I got dressed and went out to the tree and there was no bird anywhere to be seen.

I decided to head down to the marsh where there was quite an uproar going on between the Canada Geese and the Mallards, at least.  I could hear the occasional wood duck.

If you know my farm, the path to the marsh is about half a mile from my front door and you have to go by the barn to get to it. Usually it is difficult to sneak up on any waterfowl in the marsh because the last 30 or so yards is down a slippery steep and very exposed hillside path. They see you coming and the guard birds let the others know as soon as they notice anyone, and usually, especially at this time of the year they are all off before you can get close. Sometimes you can set up  in a camouflaged or hidden position and if you are patient, they all come back.

Today, the marsh is very flooded and in fact a large pond has been created that covers much of he lowlands from the hill behind the house all the way down past the hill by the barn and into the marsh. As I went from behind the house to the yard between the barn and the house, all of the Canada Geese and the mallards instantly shut up. I knew that they had seen me.  By the time I had gotten to the barn, two crows had flown over me and cawed loudly. This alert set the marsh on fire and the Geese began alert calls and before I got half way to the marsh trail, the entire marsh had emptied of waterfowl. 

Just as I passed the barn I heard two bluebirds. They flew over me, close to me, and perched on the fence line near where the nest boxes are. I have been seeing and hearing bluebirds for the better part of three weeks, but this is the closest encounter so far this late winter early spring. I stopped and watched for a few moments, and took a few photos. They moved toward one of he nest boxes and the female actually checked it out.  These are possibly the same family that has been nesting here for the last few years.  In any case it was a friendly and extremely pleasant encounter. So far the first day of spring was spectacular.

I worked my way down to the now quiet marsh. I stood near the edge and saw nothing. And then a couple of mallards hopped out from some of the underbrush across the way and swam up stream and away from me, quaking like crazy. A flight of woodies came in, circled just above, saw me and flew away rapidly.  Next came a flight of mallards. One of them looked different. I snapped a photo. They saw me and moved on.

I sat down and the sun gradually warmed the marsh and me. I edged in closer under some scrub branches hoping I could disappear, but virtually every bird that came into the scene in the next half hour- chickadee’s, blue jays, robins, crows, red-wings, junco’s all spotted me immediately. Some came over for a closer look, but most just flew through.  I was about to give up and go back inside and have some breakfast. By this point I had pushed myself back into the leafless branches of the sumac and osier that bordered the marsh. And I heard it. The Pileated was calling and it was flying in from near my house. Maybe it had been up there all along, hiding in the trees by the white pine?

It flew in and landed on a tall dead single trunk, about 100 yards across the marsh.  I looked at it for a few seconds trying to decide if I should try to get a photo, or just stay still and watch.  It was a long way away, and as yet it hadn’t seen me. I have a 250 mm lens. I decided to take a picture.  As I slowly raised the camera it saw me. Snap. Snap. It flew. Snap. And it was gone. Wowowowo!

Looking right at me!

Pileateds are very shy and usually solitary birds. They each have a fairly large territory and are in decline because of deforestation. They are huge birds with enormously long tongues.

Description

http://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Pileated_Woodpecker/id

Life History

http://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Pileated_Woodpecker/lifehistory

Listen

http://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Pileated_Woodpecker/sounds

Long Ago, another encounter!

The supermoons happen as rarely it seems as my having a close encounter with a Pleated.  Coincidentally the previous close encounter with a pileated happened in 1983, a year when there was also a Supermoon.

That year Jonna and I were living at Hobbit Hollow, in a rustic cabin on a rustic lake in Java N.Y. Our first child, Jajean who was born in April.  For the few years that we lived there we had fantastic outdoor adventures. Jajean was a wide-eyed naturalist from the beginning. We would take long hikes, or ski’s in the several hundred acres of woodland, meadow and wetlands that surrounded us. Jajean would ride in a backpack on my back, or in some other combination in my or his mothers loving arms.  In the winter I made a kind of sled where he could sit inside comfortably and warm. We were outdoors constantly day and night, seeing, listening, smelling and feeling. Wildlife was abundant and friendly. A family of wild Canada Geese that lived on our pond treated us as if we were part of their family. The would follow us in the canoes, swim with us, and we helped the young ones learn to fly by running along our long dock and jumping into the water. They would follow and leap into the air, eventually learning to fly. They would even sit around the campfires with us and chatter endlessly. I am quite sure that the young geese felt that Jajean was one of them.

Late in the summer, one morning I looked out our bedroom window. Just 20 feet away was a large Norway Spruce with a thick dark trunk that rose about 40 feet above our heads.  There on the trunk at eye level was not one Pileated, but four. Two adults, and two young. They were moving along and around the trunk, poking at crevices and crannies.  I awoke Jonna and Jajean and we sat for about an hour watching. They did not see us and it was just an astounding time. Jajean stared and occasionally cooed, or giggled.  Over the next few weeks we saw them once or twice again, but never so intimately.

Baby Jajean on my hand made sled

Coming soon, more photos from Hobbit Hollow

Edward M. Cotter

A cold and bitter February has now turned to a still cold, but warming March.  The last few days have been perfect for the Maple Syrup makers, down below freezing at night, and above freezing, and sunny, now for almost a week.

Sunday we went for breakfast at the Arcade Pancake House, operated by our friends and maple syrup makers Ray and Sandy Milks who also operate a deliciously smelling wood fired maple syrup evaporator at the sugar shack adjacent to the seasonal restaurant. I will blog about them in an upcoming story.

Before it gets away from me I want to post this really neat adventure story about a recent Buffalo River expedition on the Edward M. Cotter, Buffalo’s historic fireboat and winter icebreaker. It is the oldest continuously operating Fireboat/Icebreaker anywhere and it has a really neat story.

Wikipedia:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Edward_M._Cotter_(fireboat)

My friend Bob Gallivan is a volunteer on this vessel, and a retired fireman. He had extended an open invitation to come with him and bring my cameras.  I have been shooting a lot of bird footage on the lakeshore and I know that the ice filled but open waters near the Buffalo water intake is full of birds now. So full it looks sounds and lot like a National Geographic presentation on Antarctica. There are thousands of birds, waterfowl and gulls mostly, feeding in the open waters. I was anxious to get closer to them with a lens, and I eagerly accepted the invite.

I was also able to invite two friends to complete the photographic team. I invited my friends and videographers Jim Grimaldi and Jon Ross Fricano.

We were originally scheduled to set out on a daylong adventure on Feb 19. The day before it began to thaw and that meant that the Buffalo River which runs into the Buffalo Harbor and past the berth of the Cotter would be both rising and be subject to ice damming, something that the Cotter is designed to break up. I knew from news reports that the Cotter was out that day working hard to prevent flooding by breaking big sections of ice in the river.  At about midnight I got a phone call from Bob and his son Seamus. “Tomorrow might not work out so well”, Seamus said. “Why” I asked? I could hear Bob in the background “Well it probably will be ok but we put a hole in the hull today”. Silence. I didn’t know exactly where to go with that. Finally I said “A hole?”  More silence on the other end, and then “Yes, a hole”.  After another long pause on my end I said, “In the hull?” Another silence.  “We will be ok” I could hear Bob say.  And then I asked, “What happens if we have a problem”. Bob replied, “Well the Sheriff’s helicopter is always nearby…. “And don’t worry we will be ok.” As I drifted off to sleep I told Jonna that if anything happened I would try to at least tape the electronic photo card for my camera in a waterproof container to the back of my neck so that if my body was recovered she would at least have a photo record of the event. She did not appreciate my gallows humor.

The next morning I was up early, picked up my friend Jim and as we pulled into the Swan Street berth of the Cotter my phone rang. “No go today” was the message.  “Too dangerous. The ice dam on the river will break and the water will surge and we will get caught up and sunk in the mess so we are not going out”.  I pulled in and went inside and was greeting by a bunch of friendly but disappointed firemen.  They went on at length about how the ice damn up on Cazenovia Creek near the Stevenson Street Bridge had built up and was expected to bust loose sometime this morning. We didn’t want to be caught up in that mess I was told emphatically. “The water could surge 6-7 feet in the worst of circumstances and the ice and wave would flip the Cotter over like a dog with a rag doll”.  I had to agree. Emphatically. No need to go out today. And then one of the firemen said, “Besides we have that big hole in the hull.” Again, the room became palpably silent.  I looked around. One of the fireman said “We aren’t supposed to mention that”. Since you did, I said less than casually, how did you happen to put a hole in the hull? “Damned ice is too hard said the Captain” laughing, kind of. We are getting it fixed.  We will get you out next week. And indeed as we departed the berth I noticed a work crew hauling a metal plate and welding equipment below deck.

My photo expedition crew decided to go up to the  Stevenson Street Bridge and photograph the ice bridge. As we got there the bridge was closed, and there were a number of local TV stations broadcasting live. We set up our cameras and got the most amazing footage. The TV crews did not. They used our time-lapse footage on the evening news. You can see this footage by going here: 

Ice Dam Break Time Lapse

The next week, February 26 we went out on the Cotter. It was a bright sunny day for the most part, and the Cotter hull was completely repaired. We had a delightful but long day going up the Buffalo River, back down, through several lift bridges and then out into the lake where the birds were. It was an amazing avian sight. Unfortunately, by the time we reached the lake my camera was entirely out of room for photos or video and so I got not one damned image of the amazing array of Buffleheads, Goldeneyes, Mergansers, and about a dozen other easily identifiable species consisting of tens of thousands of noisy birds on the ice flows and in the open waters. But I did see them with my own eyes and that has to count for something!

Preparing to leave the dock, camera ready. That is Bob Gallivan on the dock getting ready to climb down the "boarding ladder"

Spectacular and rarely seen winter view of downtown Buffalo from the Buffalo River

Winter Water Canyon

Jim Grimaldi

looking back over a stark landscape from the top of the wheelhouse

You are here!

Engine and pump room below deck

I did photograph a bird or two. This Herring Gull is enjoying a tasty morsel stirred up by the Cotter

This reminds me of the Colorado River, the Grand Canyon and when you sweep by, looking up at the tall walls, you would be hard pressed to disagree.

Jon Ross Fricano

Wild Turkey scramble along the shoreline. I was looking for Polar Bear or Penguins, but this is what I saw.

Yours Truly. Seriously I was trying to smile!

See this on YouTube:
56 seconds time lapse of Cotter Trip

Hockey Day at Protection Farm

Hockey Day in Canada (February 11) and Hockey Day in the United States (February 20) are celebrations of Hockey’s Birthday.  It is a really big deal.   Almost every person in Canada is celebrating. Many in the U.S. are. I am.

Part of this celebration is about heritage. A big part of the heritage of hockey is that the sport was invented out of doors. Many outdoor pond hockey tournaments are being held across both nations.  Buffalo has a huge pond tournament called the Labatts Blue tournament held in the Buffalo Harbor on Lake Erie.

Hockey has always been a big deal for us. Here, Jamie (left in the Yankees shirt and wearing a "west side" baseball cap)  and Jajean stand next to the ultimate trophy. This picture was taken in about 1997.

This is the Hart Memorial Trophy, or MVP 

For me, a retun to outdoor hockey is an exciting developments. In my youth, growing up in northern New England, hockey was exclusively an outdoor sport. On cold winter days you went to the local pond with a shovel, scraped off a playing surface, made a makeshift goal, and skated the day away with friends and family. You had to contend with cold winds and blowing snow, impossible and complicated ice surfaces, and the occasional open lead in the water. If the sun was out the ice might become soft or wet. If you did it right, there was a bench and maybe an open fire in which to cook hotdogs. A thermos of hot chocolate was a must for us kids. Adults had something else in their thermoses.

Jonna and Jajean clear the ice while I try to contain my emotions

Jonna, Jajean, and Ana clear the ice

As I grew into my teen’s indoor hockey rinks became all the rage. Gradually the game moved entirely indoors. By the time I had my own kids, no one, at least in the city of Buffalo where we lived had the slightest interest in playing hockey outdoors.

However, I thought I would give it a shot. I went to Delaware Park and with some friends and my kids and we cleared off a portion of the ice. We played for an afternoon. At one point a couple of official park workers came by and kicked us off the ice.  This didn’t sit well with me. We went back the next day with the same result. I was very irritated. I started a campaign that included letter writing to the local newspapers. Within a few weeks we had gatherings of about 20 people playing on Delaware Lake. We scraped and shoveled, set up pairs of boots as goals, and played and played. Everyone was very excited about this experience. At first my kids were totally overwhelmed by the breeze and the erratic ice conditions and the puck would leap and jump over sticks and fly recklessly and annoyingly into the snow banks around the edges. Gradually Jajean and Jamie came to really love playing outdoors. Once you got through the sometimes bitter cold conditions, we all realized how much fun we were having.

However, city officials, notably parks officials were not happy.  The contentiousness regarding our being recreational on this most recreational of places ended up with the Buffalo Parks Commissioner, one Robert Delano, dumping a load of salt and ice solvents on the ice where we had been skating.  That ended our efforts for the year.

The next year was unusual in terms of cold. It wasn’t very and the ice hardly ever froze. A couple of times we were able to skate near the bridges that carried Lincoln Parkway up to the Scajaquada over the end of the lake, but mostly we were not able to create any outdoor hockey to speak of.

The following year there was an announcement that Buffalo was going to hold a “Winterfest” at Delaware Park Lake and I got involved in promoting the idea of an outdoor skating on the lake. It didn’t go well and ultimately I organized a bunch of folks to go to the park during Winterfest and clear off the ice and skate. It was amazing. On day one we had about 100 people skating. Day 2, about twice that.  We couldn’t play much rough and tumble hockey because a lot of families were out trying out the ice but we had fun and we skated around and with families and little children for hours and hours and hours. Every once in a while Buffalo parks workers would drive or walk around the plowed edge of the lake, give us all hard stares and angrily depart. The Buffalo Police came to watch us, but they all had big smiles.

I knew outdoor winter hockey had arrived in Buffalo when in the middle of a crowd of skating kids I was directing a forward charge up the ice when a really big fella on skates, to my left wearing a handsome and sleek fur coat and a fur Ushanka hat foot, passed me a puck which I moved up to our 10 year old center. That big fella was Alexi Zhitnik, then a defenseman of the Buffalo Sabres. Alexi was from Kiev and he had a huge smile on his face.

The next year’s festival was marked for me by the determination of the City of Buffalo not to let any ice-skating occur on Delaware Park Lake during the Winterfest or at any other time.  Next came a couple of years where the winter weather was kind of funky and warm and we lost our collective desire to engage in the outdoor skate experience at Delaware Lake. But I will never forget the scene on the day Alexi Zhitnek passed me the puck. As we drove home and drove by the park on the Scajaquada Expressway I looked across and the pond was full of skaters. I am guessing 200-300 colorful and fun loving winter loving Buffalonians. It is an image indelibly etched in my mind.

When we moved to Protection Farm our primary winter activities were cross-country skiing and outdoor skating.  After trying and failing miserably at creating an outdoor rink next to the house, my good neighbors Chuck and Judy pointed to their pond and said, its yours, enjoy. It has been wonderful.  And now, in commemoration of Hockey Day 2011, I am glad to post these photos of that pond and of our family. All of the outdoor photos taken in January of 2010, celebrating hockey at Protection Farm

Wowowo!

Now this is a hockey pond!

Left to right, Dejon, Jet, Issac, Jamie, Ben, Jajean

Jajean prepares

Ana takes a break

Al Marino's Avalanche, floor hockey team at West Side Asarese Center.
1996?
Left to right back row: Al Marino, Taylor, Jajean Burney
Middle Row: Andy Mogavero, Jeffy Bly, ?, ?, Chris Netter
Front Row: Phil Ruffino, Goalie Steve Rossi, Ricky B, Jamie Burney

Jamie and Jajean 2010

Fading light, Hockey Day Protection Farm January 2010

UPDATE -February 20, Hockey Day in America Day

I drove past Deleware Lake (Hoyt Lake) in Buffalo this past week and this is what it looks like. Rumor is that the authorities have insisted that no one skate on the pond. I don't know if they made people leave the goals and benchs on the ice, or if in fact people will return to play. this was photographed on Sunday afternoon, so I am not feeling good about it.

Last Weekend in Buffalo the Labatt's Blue Hockey Tournament played out beautifully on the inner harbor. This year the ice was great and the crowds were pretty damned fine.  Buffalo has a great winter season!