Off The Porch with Judy and Don Self

For a variety of habitats in a compact area, it's hard to beat the US Corps of Engineers Haines Island Park. Whether you're inclined to drive, hike, canoe or kayak, Haines Island offers a fantastic opportunity to observe nature in a unique setting.  Birding can be spectacular in April and May as Neotropical migrants pause to refuel in the luxuriant hardwoods of the park.  The summer months offer over 100 species of breeding birds. Fall again funnels large numbers of migrants through the park.  And the thick undergrowth along the lake margins shelter large flocks of finches and sparrows in winter.

Directions: From the intersection of US Highway 84 (mile marker 64.2) and Monroe County Road 39 at Claiborne, take Monroe 39 north 8.0 miles, then north on Alabama 41 for 9.2 miles, then left (west) on Monroe 17 for 2.8 miles, then right on unpaved Monroe County Road 49 to Haines Island Park and Davis Ferry and go about 1.0 miles to the park entrance.

Above: View from the overlook atop the Buhrstone Questa across the Alabama River flood plain

Above: A trailhead in the park

Above: Lake between the riverside road and the base of the Buhrstone Questa

Above: Davis Ferry in operation

Description: The entrance to this 480-acre park is located in a pine dominated forest atop the Buhrstone Questa (an escarpment that rises over 350 feet above the surrounding area and extends from Mississippi across western Alabama), park at the playground and picnic pavilion.  From the overlook, scan the Alabama River Valley to the north for soaring Red-shouldered and Broad-winged Hawks and tree tops below for a variety of passerines.

Continue 0.5 miles northwest down the face of the questa through hardwood forest to the public boat ramp and ferry and park.

Trailheads for three hiking trails are located on either side of the elevated restroom.  The Big-Leaf Magnolia Nature Trail (±0.8 miles) extends across the base of the Buhrstone Questa in the habitat of the threatened Red Hills Salamander (Alabama's State Amphibian).  The Upper Ironwood Trail branches off the Big-Leaf Magnolia trail and provides an additional ±1.1 mile of hiking and birding in mature hardwoods along the questa.  The Lower Ironwood Trail is of similar length and extends down the east side of the lake.  Mosquitoes and tics are common, so precautions should be taken.  Red-eyed Vireo, Wood Thrush, Gray Catbird and Northern Parula are summer residents.

The riverside road that extends west from the ferry and boat ramp through the primitive camping and picnic area in the lower part of the Park occupies a narrow strip of hardwoods between the Alabama River on the northwest and a marsh and lake on the southeast.  Watch for Wood Ducks, Little Blue and Great Blue Herons, Snowy and Great Egrets and White Ibis around the margin of the lake.   Anhingas may be seen sunning on perches in the lake or soaring overhead.  Red-headed Woodpeckers, Yellow-throated Vireos and Summer Tanagers frequent the picnic area in the summer.  In winter, Carolina Wrens, American Goldfinches and Song, Swamp and White-throated Sparrows are found in the underbrush along the road.  Barred owls are common at all seasons; listen in early morning and late afternoon for their "who cooks for you, who cooks for you all!"

Nutrias, large aquatic rodents introduced from South America, have invaded the lake and are a common sight.

Haines Island Park boat ramp makes an excellent put-in/take-out for paddles on the Alabama River, especially in the spring.  Paddling south to Silver Creek Park (8.3 miles) or Claiborne Lake Dam Site East (10.7 miles), provides birders with the opportunity of observing wildlife along the river and in the backwaters associated with Haines Island, Camp Creek, Cane Creek, Silver Creek and Isaac Creek.  It also makes an excellent take-out for paddlers coming downstream from Bells Landing Park.  Ospreys, Mississippi Kites, Belted Kingfishers and Spotted Sandpipers are birds to look for on these paddles.

Davis Ferry is operated by the State of Alabama and runs on weekdays only from 6:30 am until noon and from 1:00 until 4:10 pm.  It is free and can provide a shortcut to Thomasville and US Highway 43, but mechanical difficulties do sometimes arise.

Site Access: Free; please note that those parts of the park that are more than 300 feet from park facilities are open to hunting during hunting seasons.

GPS Coordinates: N 31° 43.248' / W 87° 27.791' (Park entrance); N 31° 43.473' / W 87° 28.158' (Trailheads)

Contact: US Army Corps of Engineers
1226 Power House Road
Camden, AL 36726

Phone: 334-682-4244

Amenities: Restrooms, Handicap access, Parking, Camping, Canoeing, Boat access, Picnic area, Hiking

Off The Porch with Judy and Don Self

Birding Old St. Stephens

Old St. Stephens Historical Park in northeastern Washington County, Alabama is one of our favorite locales to bird.  No matter what the season, the park always produces at least one avian surprise.

Marsh at the west end of the old limestone quarry, the main lake is in the background

Directions: From US Highway 43 at Leroy, go west on Washington County Road 34 for 6.2 miles, then right on St. Stephens Fork Road for 0.1 mile, then right on Cement Plant Road for 0.6 miles, then right on St. Stephens Park Road for 0.2 miles to the Old St. Stephens Historical Park gate house, then continue on St. Stephens Park Road for 1.1 miles to the entrance to the historical site is on the right and picnic pavilions and parking are immediately ahead.

Description: A variety of habitats are contained in this +600-acre park.  Mixed loblolly pine and hardwood forest occurs on hills west of the old quarry and within the archaeological site. Park at the picnic pavilion and bird this upland habitat.  Then descend toward the old quarry floor, but be sure to check the mature hardwoods around the Indian Baths on the way.  When you reach the old quarry floor, park at the store.  Eastern red cedar covers parts of the old quarry site and there are large areas of lawn around the store and camping facilities.  Extensive marsh in the east and southwest parts of the old quarry, now lake, and cypress swamp southwest of the old quarry will be of particular interest to birders.  Shore birds observed on the margins of the lake include Least Bittern, Sora, Common Moorhen, Least and Spotted Sandpiper, Greater Yellowlegs, and Killdeer.  Osprey, Mississippi Kite, and Red-shouldered Hawk are frequently observed around the quarry lake and Loggerhead Shrike, Northern Parula, Yellow-throated, Pine, Prothonotary, and Hooded Warblers, American Redstart and Common Yellowthroat breed within the park.  Spring and fall bring a wide variety of Neotropical migrants and occasional flocks of American White Pelicans.  Ruby-crowned Kinglet, and Chipping, Savannah, Song, Swamp, and White-throated Sparrows are common winter residents.

The park is also home to White-tailed Deer and the Gopher Tortoise.

Site 1 Access: $2 for adults, $1 for children over 5, $8/night tent camping, $16/night RV
GPS Coordinates: N 31° 33.068' / W 88° 03.058' (Gate house), N 31° 33.573' / W88° 02.072' (Camp store)
Contact: St. Stephens State Historical Site
2056 Old St. Stephens Rd.
St. Stephens, AL 36569
Phone: 251-247-2622 (Camp Store)
Amenities: Restrooms, Handicap access, Potable water, Food (store), Parking, Camping (RV hook-ups), Canoeing (kayak rentals), Boat access (public boat ramp on Tombigbee River), Fishing, Picnic areas, Hiking Trails, Horseback riding.

with Judy and Don Self

No, not the 4-wheeled kind, the winged, 1/10^th ounce, southbound kind.

 

Fall migration of the Ruby-throated Hummingbirds is in full swing.  It began back in late July, but peaks here at Almosta Farm in mid-September.  But those of you who enjoy feeding them are already well aware of this.  Just check how many pounds of sugar you've purchased this month!  Remember, one part sugar to four parts water and avoid the expensive "nectar" mixes and food coloring.

 

Although hummers don't migrate in flocks, there is a well defined, southward movement and, at this time of year, there is a constant turnover of hummers in our yard.  We enjoy watching each wave of migrants arrive, so sleek and slim.  Then in short order they become so plump that they can hardly fly.  In fact last year, one male overdid and, when he tried to takeoff from a low-hanging feeder, crashed on the ground and could not get airborne from that low spot in the grass.  Concerned about fire ants, we gave him a lift up to a nearby limb and with the increased height; this winged butterball was able to resume flight operations.

 

Retrieving an empty feeder is always a bit of an adventure and can be a little scary, especially late in the day when close encounters of the hummer kind are the rule, not the exception.    You find yourself ducking those chattering, squeaky little dive bombers as they pass mere inches from your face!  Then you hear one hovering . . . right beside your ear, peeking over your shoulder to see what you're doing with their feeder.  For the short period of time that the full rack of feeders isn't hanging out, the hummers swarm around the remaining few like bees.  That's when we often see two hummers feeding from each feeder flower!

Early morning and late afternoon are the best times to take a chair and a cup of coffee and have a seat among the feeders.  Hummers are such trusting souls.  We've often been used as a perch.  And when that happens, you learn the real meaning of light as a feather. 

 

In addition to the hummers, this year Judy has made friends with a cute little bumblebee who is always on the feeders and is very reluctant to get off for feeder refilling.  He's even followed her half way to the house trying to get back on the feeder.

 

Soon the number of birds will begin to decline and by the end of October, our last hummer will depart for Mexico.  He'll return in mid-March.

 

But wait!  An increasing number of Ruby-throated Hummingbirds are overwintering in the southeast!  And researchers from the Hummer/Bird Study Group reported banding small numbers of seven species of western hummingbird here in the southeast last winter!  So, keep at least one full, clean feeder in your yard all winter.  And if you receive a visit from one of these wanderers, contact the Hummer/Bird Study Group to arrange for one of their researchers to come and you're your bird.

By Jon Braun

There's a story or stories of a man that are becoming less of a legend outside of Washington County.   I was fortunate enough to have personally known this legend when I was younger because my father and he were very close friends, but he was widely known throughout the south.  His story is more like many stories, some told by him, and others by the people that were around him.  I'll try my best to tell a few of these stories without rambling like the town drunk, so bear with me.

I knew Mr. Roy as old man in his late eighties and early nineties, but he helped raise my father.  Mr. Roy, as everyone knew him, was born in Ellisville, MS in 1903.  One of his favorite stories to tell was how he put out a major fire at the Hercules Powder factory in Hattiesburg, MS.  According to Mr. Roy had the fire spread any further it would have blown up the entire south.  Another famous story was his first job where he was working as a painter.  Somehow he got the job to paint the hangars for the Tuskegee Airmen.  As he was painting one of the roofs, he spilled the paint and ran from side to side mopping the paint until he had painted the entire roof without spilling a drop.  He took more pride in the fact that he hadn't spilled a drop rather than he had painted a part of Alabama's history.  He also took pride in the fact that, even in his old age, could lift a nine pound sledge hammer from his foot and hold it out from his shoulder parallel to the ground.  This is a feat that I have never been able to master, and I've never seen anyone else do it.

Mr. Roy settled down in Frankville, Al around the late 1940's and took on the profession as a gunsmith.  Mr. Roy enjoyed hunting and fishing.  He also had a great sense of humor.  One day there was a stir in church when Mr. Roy walked through the door with a hat on.  The laughter broke out when everyone noticed the writing on his hat that read "I'd rather be fishing".  While working as a gunsmith, he had become an excellent marksman.  His profession had also damaged his hearing to the point of having to wear a hearing aide.  When he would come to visit he would usually spend the day with my dad, therefore his wife would always call to check in on him.  This bothered Mr. Roy because he felt like he was being treated like a child.  One day after Sunday lunch, Mr. Roy had a call from his wife.  After the phone call he took his seat in our den and continued talking with my father.  We heard this strange beeping noise coming from our kitchen.  My mother noticed that when Mr. Roy had answered his wife's call, he had taken out his hearing aide.  When asked about taking it out he replied, "I listen to it at home, I shouldn't have to listen to it here".  He also said if he ever wanted to get rid of his wife, he would, "push her off in a boat, with the paddle  because she was the worst paddler he'd ever seen".

Making a living as a gunsmith in the late 1900's was remarkable, but it was what he enjoyed and what he knew.  He hand made the rifle my father hunted with while he was growing up.  It is also the same rifle that I hunted with while I was growing up.  My father passed the rifle down to me and was asking Mr. Roy's advice on what he should buy for my two brothers.  Mr. Roy told my father to let him do a little research on the matter.  Within weeks, this man in his late eighties had molded the barrels, hand carved the stocks, and purchased two scopes to complete two more rifles for my brothers.  When asked why he had done this, he told my father that, "there was no need to pay for something that wouldn't shoot true".  People from all over the south would have him site their guns before hunting season opened.  It was an art he had perfected.  According to him, a gun wasn't sited properly until he could pull the trigger three times and make one hole in the target.  When he shot a deer, he would shoot the deer in the eye or when he would shoot a turkey he would use a rifle and shoot them in the neck, as if he had to prove his shooting abilities.  There's one story that comes to mind about one of our annual hunting trips that he was a part of.  Ten men had gone turkey hunting and nine came back empty handed.  When Mr. Roy returned, he had two giant gobblers on the back of his 1942 army truck.  Everyone gathered around and asked what his secret was.  Mr. Roy calmly replied, "you just have to know what you're doing".  That was also about the time that my father noticed the corn that had spilled from the turkey's beak as well as the two empty corn buckets on the back of his truck.  Anyone that hunts knows that it's highly illegal to hunt over feed, but no one ever told him that we knew his secret.
              

I was exploring the back roads of west Washington County when I remembered that right around the corner was one of the most influential people I'd ever met.  One influence being his knowledge of the Bible and the other being he is the reason for my appreciation of the arts.

He was my literature professor in junior college.  I'd heard about how hard his class was and wanted to change, but it was the only one available for my schedule.  The best thing that happened to me that semester was not missing out on that class.  Often throwing in his great sense of humor, he would read some of the more difficult plays aloud so we could get a better understanding of what was going on as well as get a good laugh.  Most memorable was his performance of Moliere's Tartuffe.  The way he got into character when he read has lead me to watch the play numerous times including a wonderful performance by The Alabama Shakespeare Festival.  

I called to make sure he would be at his house and he jokingly replied, "Yes, I'll be at my house, not my wife's house."  Meaning he would be in his sound proof, music shed he'd built behind his house.  He also calls it his "pouting house", where he goes to pout when he's in trouble.  It was filled with guitars, cellos, fiddles, and recording hardware and software.  He invited me in and we quickly caught up on the past eight years.  Most of mine being college and working life and his was his many travels(including how he introduced the skunk to Chicago), recent composures, and some minor health issues that you couldn't pity because of his humorous asides.  He showed me pictures and told me about his book that he's been writing for the past ten or more years; we went through his knife collection and talked about wood working.  When we got off on wood working, he asked me to pick up the fiddle case behind me.  When I opened it there was this beautiful violin that you could still smell the varnish drying.  This was his prize possession.  He went through the entire process of fiddle making including what kind of wood he used as well as where he got it.  He had made his own jig to hold the plates while he fitted his purfling and carved his own tuning pegs.  It was an extraordinary piece but even more extraordinary was the sound that it made.  He played classical, gospel, and even bluegrass without missing a note.  It was one of those moments where you say, "wow, I wish I could do that".  As if I wasn't impressed enough he showed me his recording software.  He had recorded the percussion, bass, lead guitar, lead vocals, backup vocals, and of course the fiddle.  Then he showed me how he had put it all together.  If he wouldn't have told me that, I would have thought it was his band.  I couldn't talk him into burning me a CD because he said he "hadn't perfected it", but trust me it was remarkable.  We listened and talked for another hour or so and the he remembered he had somewhere to be, so we parted ways.    

The whole experience was great.  I was impressed with everything he showed me but most of all I enjoyed the laughing and the music.  Once again our interactions left me with great influence.   It was the best five or more hours of the day.  I left with inspired and with that down home feeling you get when you've just had a few glasses of lemonade with one of the elders of rural Alabama.                 

As I travel around rural Alabama I'm always looking for an adventure.  Not the type of adventure where you would find yourself swinging from your leather, side whip to outrun a boulder, but an adventure more along the lines of a late afternoon fishing trip or a hike across the pasture to take a few pictures of an old barn.  Well, in my recent travels I wasn't exactly racing boulders, but somehow I managed to be face to face with one of natures most feared animals.

I ran into an old friend the other day and he asked if I would like to spend the rest of the afternoon in his twelve acre pond.  Having a passion for fishing of all sorts, I couldn't turn him down.  We set out from his shed where he keeps his 1991 Nissan Pathfinder reserved for fishing and fishing only.  If by some chance you forget any of your gear, you can probably find what you need in the side pockets of the door.  We took the old dirt road from his house through an overgrown pasture, where the grass is waiting to be cut for hay.  The sun was beginning to duck behind the hard wood trees bordering the field, which made it more comfortable to be outside.  The sweet smell of summer was in the air making the perfect setting for a great fishing trip.

Things began to take an odd turn as we launched his small Jon boat and a bass jumped in the boat.  As soon as he had thrown the small bass back into the water, an even larger bass jumped in the boat.  In my twenty years of fishing, I have never seen a fish jump in a boat, much less two fish in such a small time period.  

We paddled across his pond to one of his "honey holes", where he has thrown his Christmas trees for the past thirty years to provide cover for bass.  We made a few casts and caught a few fish, but the best part was hearing his stories of past fishing trips.

The sun was going down and we were deep into conversation.  We failed to notice the curious, seven foot alligator who swam up to investigate our activities.  We decided to call it a day, so I grabbed the paddle and poked it in the water.  My sudden movement startled the alligator, and like his aquatic friends who wanted a ride, he jumped into the boat.  In my fishing experience I've seen hundreds of alligators anywhere from hatchlings to fifteen plus feel long.  We've always coexisted well together because we've always minded our own business.  In this bizarre situation, I was stumped.  I probably wouldn't have been so shocked had he jumped into the vacant, middle of the boat, but he decided he would land at my feet.   I had no idea what to do, and I'm sure alligator didn't either.  I guess it was instinct that put my left foot on his head and my right foot on his tail pinning him to the floor of the boat.  What was going on?  I can handle the fish, but AN ALLIGATOR!?!?!  My friend was as confused as I was.  How did our peaceful afternoon turn into an episode of The Twilight Zone?  I gained my composure and asked for the net.  My friend, calmly, threw me the net and I put it between the alligator and me.  I slowly lifted my left foot off of his head and my right off of his backside, and as swiftly as he belly flopped into the boat he sprung out of the boat.  The drama that lasted less than five minutes but felt like an hour was over.  My friend and I looked at one another with puzzled looks on our face for the last time before we burst into laughter.  We questioned the previous event and laughed all the way back to his shed, where we sat an additional ten minutes to reminisce.  

This is by far the craziest, most adventurous fishing trip I've ever been a part of.  It fits into the same category as when you catch a trophy fish, because you will never forget it.  As I said earlier, these are not the kind of adventures I'm looking for, but as long I can walk away safely and laugh about them, I think I can handle a few more like this.  Maybe I should start wearing an Indiana Jones whip on my side.  Not to avoid boulders, but to avoid fish, alligators, and whatever else the waters of south Alabama throws at me.        

by Jon Braun

Off The Porch with Judy and Don Self

Once a year, observers all over North America set aside a morning during the height of nesting season to travel their assigned routes identifying and counting all of the breeding birds that they encounter as part of the North American Breeding Bird Survey.  This effort is sponsored by the US Geological Survey's Patuxent Wildlife Research Center and Environment Canada and is in its 43rd year.

There are over 4400 individual routes in the U.S. and Canada; 92 of them are in Alabama.  Each 24.5-mile route consists of 50-stops spaced one-half mile apart.  The observer follows the same route each year and spends 3 minutes at each stop looking and listening for any breeding birds that are within ¼ mile of the stop. The data collected provide a measure of how our breeding bird populations are doing.

We're responsible for the Gastonburg Route and we've been surveying it for the last 8 years.  It begins in the community of Rehoboth in northwestern Wilcox County (about 3 miles north of Canton Bend on the Alabama River) and travels through Gastonburg to Consul in Marengo County and then up the southern panhandle of Perry County to a point 2 miles  south of Uniontown.  Our assigned starting time is 5:12 am and we strive to complete the route before 10:00 am when most birds take a break from singing.

It's a team effort.  Don gets out of the car and does the identification chores (looking and listening) while Judy keeps track of the time and records the species and their numbers.  We always carry our list of stop descriptions to insure we are at precisely the right place, but, the truth be known, after all these years we could run the route without it.

Over the years we think that a pattern is beginning to emerge.  Stop 2 is the "Chuck-will's-widow stop."  Stop 8 in moist woodlands is the "Acadian Flycatcher stop."  Stop 9 in Gastonburg always produces a variety of birds (10 species this year), but Stop 15 with eastern red cedar on one side and an old clear-cut on the other always produces the most (15 species this year).  At the other end of the spectrum is stop 44 in the "bird desert" (no birds this year and only a couple last year).  Stop 47 is the "Field Sparrow stop" and Stop 49 is the "Mockingbird stop."

But, Judy says that birding is all about serendipity.  Bird a section of road, then turn around and bird in the opposite direction and the cast of characters always changes!  And so it did again this year.  The Morning doves, Cardinals, Indigo Buntings, Northern Mockingbirds, Blue Jays, Tufted Titmice and American Crows were plentiful as always.  But the presence of a Broad-winged Hawk who had attracted a mob of about 40 American Crows did help the crow count.  And a stray cat looking for a hand-out became a bit of a blessing when it attracted the attention of our only Brown Thrasher.  

Last year our big surprise was the male Scarlet Tanager at Stop 42 (on the fringe of the "bird desert").  This year, it was the two first-year Bald Eagles at Stop 14, perched in an old snag in the middle of a recent clear-cut, less than 100 yards from us!  Even though these two youngsters lacked the white head and tail of adults, they were still impressive.  We hope that they'll stay in the area and in another 4 years, when they reach maturity, we'll be able to count them.  And, yes we called a temporary halt to the proceedings to enjoy these two magnificent birds.

This citizen science does on occasion offer a few challenges.  The perpetual challenge is arising well before sunrise, loading all our gear and stuffing some breakfast in our faces (we usually opt for cheese crackers and diet cola).  The other problem that we've encountered lately is washed-out bridges and culverts.  Two years running, we've had a bridge or culvert disappear during the week before our count.  This year we dutifully performed our route reconnaissance a week before the date we planned to run the survey.  All was fine.  But, 3 days of heavy rains leading up to June 6, washed-out the temporary culvert next to the fallen down bridge at Gastonburg and, once again, we were forced to make a mad dash around the chasm.  Ah!  That Murphy guy never sleeps

As always, the weather was perfect and it was the typical wonderful morning birding.  We saw or heard 53 species of birds and 498 individuals (and 3 white-tailed deer, 2 coyotes, 3 cottontails, an armadillo and both fox and gray squirrels).

Off the Porch
with Judy and Don Self

There are some days when you get up and just aren't in the mood for birding.  But then, while the tea is brewing, you take a quick peek out the kitchen window to see who might be hanging around your feeders.  After all, it's the middle of spring migration and you might just pick up a new species for the yard list!  Well, the usual crowd is there: numerous cardinals, two Carolina chickadees (with recently fledged youngsters demanding to be fed), a tufted titmouse, three mourning doves, a downy and a red-bellied woodpecker, two chipping sparrows, the lone white-throated sparrow, the mockingbird who has commandeered both suet feeders, and four squirrels!

But there is blue on the tray feeder . . . two male indigo buntings and a male blue grosbeak apparently arrived early this morning!  And, yes, the rose-breasted grosbeaks are still here, but now there are more females than males, guess the fellows who were here last week have moved on to grab the best breeding territories up north.

Tea's ready.  Not a cloud in the sky and the temperature is in the mid-60's.  So we decide to spend the morning out on the golf course, not birding.

But when we arrive at the course, we're distracted by the pair of barn swallows busy renovating last year's nest under the eaves of the cart shed.   Then on our way to the first tee, we are treated to an aerobatics display by a pair of eastern kingbirds who've decided that the tee markers make a great launch pad for their pursuit of insects.  A first year male orchard oriole singing from the hackberry tree above the first tee and a couple of great crested flycatchers chasing through the tree tops further conspire to break our already fragile concentration on the game.  A par and a bogey.

A pair of blue-gray gnatcatchers over the second tee, and red-winged blackbirds building a nest in the cattails beside the lake, bogey-bogey.  Indigo buntings, eastern towhees and a brown thrasher at the third green, bogey-bogey.  More orchard orioles and a red-headed woodpecker on the fourth fairway, a bogey and a double bogey (ugh!).  At the fifth tee, is that a Mississippi kite at one o'clock?  No, a Cooper's hawk.  Sixth tee, awfully quiet, no birds, guess the Cooper's is still in the vicinity, bogey-double bogey.  Seventh green and a major question regarding proper golf etiquette has arisen.  Your partner is preparing to hit a delicate downhill putt; is it proper to interrupt his putt and direct his attention to the pair of summer tanagers that just flew into the pine tree next to the green?  Or must you remain silent and risk that they'll move on before he finishes putting?

If a pair of summer tanagers aren't sufficient to cause an interruption in play, what about an osprey circling the water hazard or an adult bald eagle that just lit in the tree beside the lake or the swallow-tailed kite silently hawking dragonflies directly overhead?  OK, raptors are really neat and you have to interrupt play.  But what about smaller birds like brown-headed nuthatches or yellow-throated warblers?  Golf is such a complex game!
 
And so it goes for eighteen holes of golf, not birding.

Then back to Almosta Farm for a bite of lunch and a quick check the feeders, just in case.  It's the mid-day lull and only the female fox squirrel is there, lying in the bird bath, her chin on the edge and a foreleg dangling languidly over the side.  Ah, life is good when you're not birding.

The day's only half over, so why not grab a cane pole and spend some quiet time by the lake and see if the blue-gills are biting?  The fish are apparently taking a bit of a siesta and the reflections of birds flying back and forth across the lake make it difficult to keep an eye on the bobber.    Most, like the gray catbirds that nest here each year and the soaring turkey vultures, can be identified without looking up, but the orchard oriole just draws the eye up for a moment of appreciation.  The quiet time we craved is not to be.  A pair of noisy brown thrashers clucking incessantly from the bushes sees to that.  Are we near their nest?  Do they have fledglings in the thick underbrush?  And if that weren't enough, the belted kingfisher flies in for her afternoon visit and spends the next half hour moving from perch to perch scolding us for fishing in her lake!.

Yep, it's nice to spend an April day in the piney woods not birding . . . but somehow it happens anyway.

with Judy and Don Self

The 12th Annual Great Backyard Bird Count, our 4-day mid-winter avian scavenger hunt was great fun.  At last count, our species total was 70 for Gallion.  The weather was great as usual and the birds were for the most part cooperative.  Blue-headed vireos, loggerhead shrikes, and hermit thrushes were plentiful, but we had to work for greater yellowlegs and fox and white-crowned sparrows.  Bald eagles, hooded mergansers and our sharp-shinned hawk, which regularly terrorizes our feeders, chose to take a 4-day sabbatical and avoided our count (obnoxious birds!).     Check the results for your hometown at www.birdsource.org/gbbc and make plans to join us next February.

The local fish-wrapper proclaimed it to be the first day of spring!  It's early for most of our spring migrants, but with clear blue sky, gentle east breeze, and temperature at about 50°F, it seemed to appropriate to get off the porch and go birding.

Chickasaw State Park (Stop 12 on the Alabama Black Belt Nature and Heritage Trail) is located between Linden and Demopolis in central Marengo County and only a 5-minute drive from Almosta Farm, so off we went. 

The park's 520 acres is divided by US Highway 43.  The picnic area, playground, restrooms, and nature trail are all located in the ±30 acres east of the highway.  The remainder of the park lies west of the highway and is dedicated to a handicapped-accessible state-operated hunting area, so access by the public is restricted.
We chose to bird the nature trail and the margins of the playground/picnic area.  The nature trail has received minimal attention over the last few years, but the Boy Scouts of America recently volunteered to take on the project of restoring the trail!

Yellow jessamine and red buckeye were in full bloom and many of the oaks were covered with catkins.  Showers of bits of flowers and pollen dislodged by the overhead activities of squirrels and birds required frequent cleaning of our binoculars.  A slow walk along the trail revealed that most of our wintering birds were still present.  Eastern phoebes, blue-headed vireos, yellow-bellied sapsuckers, ruby-crowned kinglets, and flocks of yellow-rumped warblers and chipping sparrows quietly foraged along the forest edge.  Only the phoebes were vocalizing, but they did so incessantly.

Our resident birds were well into spring and courtship and nesting.   Female downy, hairy, and pileated woodpeckers filled the park with gentle tapping while a pair of red-bellied woodpeckers consummated their courtship.  Tufted titmice carried mustaches of nesting material. A pair of wood ducks put on an aerobatic display as they chased through the hardwoods.  Northern cardinals, pine warblers, and Carolina wrens engaged in vocal dueling as they established territories and pairs of Carolina chickadees and brown-headed nuthatches worked their way through the trees,  And there were the usual flyovers by black and turkey vultures, a red-tailed hawk, pairs of American crows, a brown-headed cowbird, and even a great blue heron.  The only spring migrants were a pair of blue-gray gnatcatchers.  Still in all, one great morning!