One of our larger shorebirds, it has long been a favorite bird of mind. That is in part because when I first got my 800f5.6EDIF, it was the first species to let me get close and make a favorite vertical. Ever since, I’ve been a Willit connoisseur. The vast majority of the time, we experience them in their winter drab, which is OK, but they can do better. There are two locations I know of in the lower 48 where you can photograph them in their breeding plumage which is what you see here. In their breeding best, they are a spectacular bird. They have a crazy call, crazy breeding courtship flight, and are overall, charismatic. They always leave me wondering, willit?

For the last week, there has been a new crew of kids coming to the suet feeders at the hide. It’s been fun to see who will appear that day. Today, it was a Hairy Woodpecker (didn’t get a shot of it, though, yet). They are so much fun to watch, especially on their first visits. They look at their parents as if to say, “what that yellow stuff in the cage?” Even the Magpies seem to wonder (we have 15 of their kids right now!). This provides time to get glass on them and make the clicks. This is the fifth generation for all of these except the Lewis’s. This means their parents grew up with the lens watching them, a comfort level that they pass along to their kids. This means great photo possibilities for the kids being kids. We love this time of the year because, here come the kids!

A lot of bird species have elaborate displays to attract a mate. That’s not what this is all about. Nope, not one bit! Working a marsh on the Delaware coast, found this little tidal creek that was just sucking in the shorebirds. They were feasting on the eggs of the Horseshoe Crabs. Semipalmated Sandpipers are smaller than your fist, but they can pack away the food. Besides fueling up to continue their migration north, they are, pigs. Well, they seem to be a bit greedy and defensive, too. That’s what is happening here, one individual defending his small patch of eggs from another. I’ve seen and photographed this once before with Sanderlings, but never heard about it for Semipalmated Sandpipers. Who Knew?

They are one of the most challenging and funny birds to photograph! The Clapper Rail is a marsh inhabitant the size of a chicken. They can hide in nothing and have a call that carries for miles. When I first started working for them decades ago, the biologist I was working with taught me much, no more than our first time out to observe the Clapper. There I stood, looking around for a half hour, looking for one to photograph. I searched and searched, and that’s when Dick said, “Look under your feet!” We were standing on a small rise, and literally below our feet stood a clapper!

Dupont Point in Delaware is a large, extensive marsh. This marsh has a number of Clapper Rails, it’s where this photograph was taken. One doesn’t have to walk into the marsh, just haunt the tidal creek, keep your ears and eyes open, and they will appear! The best time is at high tide. Moving little is the best strategy, which means, long glass will be your best friend. Spend some time there, and you will have some laughs as you spend time with the secretive clapper.

As the sun hits the Delaware shore, the high tide is on its way out. Horseshoe Crabs scurry about to take advantage of the high waters to lay their eggs. Egg density historically was 40,000+ per square meter. Today, there is less than 5000 per square meter. This rocket fuel is so important to shroebirds migrating north in the spring, like the Rudder Turnstone. The edge of the bay where it’s foraging suffers from erosion, so man has interceded with a broad cloth to hold in the soil back. This has created a trap for the small egg of the Horseshoe Crab that the Turnstone searches for a meal. They are literally for those eggs, in search of gold.

I closed my eyes for a second to rest them, and when I opened them, there was the Long-wattled Umbrella bird. What an amazing and super cool bird! A little bit bigger than your average crow, they are resident of the Andian Highlands in Ecuador. That wacky headress is how they got part of their name. That massive pile of feathers on their head opens up, coming down to cover the sides and hiding their bill. In the breeding season, as many as fifteen males gather on a lek, open their umbrella, sway their wattle, and make a low, cow-like single note call.

We had multiple opportunities each day to be with this incredible bird! They could perch like a statue for as long as they liked. It would float in and land without making a sound. When it left, though, its wing beat are so powerful we witnessed it breaking its perch on launch. They would perch and stare right at us and then slowly, cock their head back and forth, rotating it every so slowly. I would love to know what it saw, what it was thinking as it just stared. All totalled, I’m sure we had hours with them over the week and I still was left wanting. It was the Ecuadorian forest star!