I was hoping to spend today happily watching ducks but several factors argue against it.

• My favorite lakes are still frozen according to reports on PABIRDS. 
• Pittsburgh’s rivers are flooded, debris-filled and swift.  Fortunately the flood isn’t major, but conditions aren’t good for waterfowl.
• Yesterday’s rainstorm was windy.  Not a good time for ducks to fly into our area.
• And it will rain more today, which is unpleasant for me though not for ducks.

I hear there are ducks at Shenango River Lake, 1.5 hours north.  They’re coming soon to a lake near me.  The only question is… When?

Update, 6:00pm:  Well!  I made the trip to Shenango and found ten species of ducks, including green-winged teal and canvasbacks.  There weren’t any buffleheads yet.  Wait until next weekend.

(photo of a male bufflehead by Brian Herman)

It’s all of the above.

The anhinga has many names because it’s such a strange bird.  It has a large fan tail like a turkey and a long thin neck like a snake.  It darts underwater and impales fish with its bill.  Its Latin name came from its common name which came from a South American (Tupi) word for forest demon.

The anhinga genus are tropical birds that occur worldwide, anywhere there’s warm water, lots of sun, sticks to stand on and plenty of fish.  Those in the Western Hemisphere are called “anhinga.”  The rest are called darters.

Anhingas eat fish and they swim to catch them.  Their hunting technique is to lurk and dart so they’re specially adapted to neither float nor sink.  Often they swim with only their heads and necks visible.  To achieve this neutral buoyancy they have dense bones and un-oiled feathers.  When their feathers get wet, they get cold and must haul themselves out of the water and spread their wings to dry.  That’s why they need lots of sun and sticks to stand on.

This, of course, means anhingas are practically unheard of in Pennsylvania.  I don’t know of a sighting in southwestern Pennsylvania but anhingas do wander and occasionally appear in spring or fall along eastern Pennsylvania migration routes.  When found, the bird is soaring and on the move.  One or two lucky birders notice it … and then it’s gone.

But they seem to be everywhere in Florida, drying their wings.  That’s where Kim Steininger photographed this one.

(photo by Kim Steininger)

This level of faithfulness is rare. Humans strive for it but we and many other species tend to practice serial monogamy: pairing with one mate, then breaking up and pairing with another. 

For tundra swans (whose subspecies include Bewick’s swans) their pairings are truly “Til death do us part.”  Swans are so wedded to their one mate that a widowed swan may not choose a new mate for a very long time — if ever.

So it was with great surprise that staff at the Wildfowl and Wetlands Trust Centre at Slimbridge, UK noticed that a pair of Bewick’s swans had apparently divorced.

Bewick’s swans nest in Siberia.  The western group spends the winter in Denmark, the Netherlands and the British Isles, returning to the same site year after year.  Because each Bewick’s swan has a unique yellow and black bill pattern, naturalists at Slimbridge are able to identify the individual swans who come to their refuge.

That’s how they found out that Sarindi and Saruni had split. 

This fall Sarindi came back to Slimbridge with a new mate so naturalists feared the worst - Saruni was dead.  But then she arrived with her new mate and there they were, all four birds on the same lake and the former couple not acknowledging each other. 

No one knows why this pair went their separate ways but it’s such a rare occurrence – only the second time in over 40 years – that it rated its own headline in the BBC News.  Swan divorce.

(photo of Bewick’s Swan showing its distinctively marked bill, by Adrian Pingstone, from Wikipedia in the public domain)

How about this roseate spoonbill!  

(photo by Chuck Tague.  He took this picture a few weeks ago.)

These royal terns are common on our southern coasts and found year-round on the coast of Florida.  Wherever they occur they’re hard to miss because they’re very noisy and highly social.  They always have something to say and someone to say it to.

Both of their given names are a puzzle to me.  Why are they called Sterna maxima (largest tern) when Caspian terns are larger?  According to Cornell’s Birds of North America, these are the largest crested terns though to my eye Caspians have crests too, they’re just shorter.  

And why are they called “royal?”  Perhaps because their crests suggest a royal crown.  The royal theme carries through to their collective name.  A group of royal terns is called a “highness of terns.”

So here they are, a royal highness.  I can’t tell which one is king and which the queen, they look too much alike.

(photo by Kim Steininger)

This is a ruddy turnstone in breeding plumage.  By his color you can see why he’s called “ruddy.”  ”Turnstone” comes from his behavior.  This shorebird eats insects, beetles and crustaceans and literally turns stones to find them.  Of course he prefers stony, not sandy, beaches.

Ruddy turnstones breed in the Arctic and winter along our Atlantic, Pacific and Gulf coasts.  This keeps them beyond the bounds of southwestern Pennsylvania but during migration they sometimes stop on the shores of Lake Erie.  If you drive a couple of hours to the lake in August you may see one there.  Bobby Greene photographed this one at Conneaut, Ohio.

And why do I think I’ll see a ruddy turnstone soon?   I’m on my way to Florida to visit Chuck and Joan Tague and do a lot of birding.  At some point we’ll visit a rocky jetty and perhaps find a ruddy turnstone who’s spending his winter there.

(photo by Bobby Greene)

Once upon a time, in August 2002, a snowy plover stopped at the pond at Imperial grasslands in Allegheny County.  This bird is so rare in southwestern Pennsylvania that many, many birders made the trip to see it but I procrastinated. For a short time the pond was the Mecca of Birding and then the bird was gone.  I had procrastinated too long.  I missed him — and he would have been a Life Bird (the first I’d ever seen in my life).

Snowy plovers are uncommon in North America.  Because they rely on sparsely vegetated beaches they are listed as endangered in Mississippi and threatened in Florida and along the Pacific coast.  Fortunately they also breed at inland alkaline lakes so they’re not completely dependent on the sandy coast. 

Eventually I saw my Life Bird snowy plover at Henderson, Nevada’s sewage treatment plant, also known as the Henderson Bird Viewing Preserve.  As I scanned the empty empoundments with my binoculars I stopped my gaze at a little group of shorebirds.  When I saw one that looked like this I thought, “That’s a snowy plover.”  Years of flipping through the field guide had paid off.  It felt like I’d seen him before. 

But I haven’t seen one since. 

Steve Gosser photographed this one in Florida.

(photo by Steve Gosser)

This is the wood stork, a wading bird native to the Western Hemisphere and the only stork that breeds in the U.S.

The wood stork is found year-round in South America, along the Gulf Coast in winter and in Florida, Georgia and South Carolina during the nesting season. It feeds on fish, frogs and large insects that it feels with its sensitive bill.  It also clatters its bills to communicate because, like all storks, it has no voice.

Wood storks are beyond the bounds of western Pennsylvania except for the rare lone juvenile that may show up at Presque Isle State Park in autumn.  These solo birds probably make a fatal navigational error that takes them to the shores of Lake Erie.   The loss of these youngsters is made sadder by the fact that the wood stork is endangered due to water degradation and habitat loss.  Their population has declined so dramatically that they’re now considered an indicator species for the Everglades restoration.

Storks and motherhood are often associated but this stork is not the one who brings babies.  That’s the job of the white stork of Europe, Central Asia and Africa who nests on chimneys and roofs.

(photo by Kim Steininger)

The least tern is small, beautiful, animated and often endangered.

Only the size of a starling, the least tern breeds on the open beaches of the Pacific, Atlantic and Gulf coasts, throughout the Caribbean, and on gravel flats along rivers in Texas and the Mississippi watershed including the Missouri, Platte, Arkansas, Brazos, Trinity and Rio Grande.

Their preference for beaches has led to their endangered status because their nests fail completely when competing with human development and recreation.  They are especially vulnerable along rivers where channelization and dams either flood the beach or prevent the water from scouring riverbank vegetation and forming the gravel beds these birds require.  They do better in Atlantic coastal states where their beach nesting sites are roped off to keep out people, dogs and vehicles.

And, yes, these birds are cute.

The first time I saw them it was mid-May in New Jersey and the terns were courting.  The females would stand on the sand while the males would chatter and fly out to the surf, capture a tiny fish and bring it back to their chosen mate.  If the lady was impressed she would chatter too, eat the fish and ultimately mate with him.  The carrying and presenting of the tiny fish was very cute and it was very like feeding a nestling, pictured here.

I wish I could see least terns more often but they live beyond the bounds of southwestern Pennsylvania.  Brian Herman photographed this parent and nestling in New Jersey.

(photo by Brian Herman)

Yellow-crowned night-herons are found year-round in Florida and along the Caribbean coast all the way to Brazil.  They breed as far north as coastal Connecticut and in southern Indiana and Illinois but they rarely wander to southwestern Pennsylvania.  That’s because they eat crabs, crayfish and aquatic insects in marshes and wooded swamps.  Again the Pittsburgh area strikes out on habitat. 

This heron is well named.  The crown of his head is yellow and he’s very nocturnal.  His blue-gray plumage earned him the Latin name Nyctanassa violacea and he has red eyes, perhaps an adaptation for nighttime vision.

Despite his predilection for darkness, the first time I saw a yellow-crowned night-heron was in broad daylight at Nummy Island, NJ.  It was mid-May and the herons and egrets were busy nesting.  True to their nocturnal habits, most of the night-herons were roosting in thick woody shrubs but one of them was dragging around with bleary eyes carrying sticks to her nest.  I guess she was running out of time and had to “pull an all-nighter.”

If you want to see yellow-crowned night-herons in Pennsylvania your best bet is during late spring or early summer in the lower Susquehanna and Delaware valleys.  Even then they’re rare.  You usually have to travel beyond our bounds. 

Steve Gosser photographed this one in Florida.

(photo by Steve Gosser)