The ubiquitous starling.

Sturnus vulgaris:  The European Starling

I was chatting with some young people a few weeks ago about birds, which happens to be a favourite subject of mine.  I brought up the starling in the conversation, and puzzled looks fell upon their faces.  "What's a starling?", they asked.  To me, it was like asking what a robin was, as they are common throughout much of the world.  Here, in Canada, we have loads of them; sometimes they get together in enormous flocks and fill the branches on large deciduous trees.  The sound such a gathering makes can be deafening.

So, here I was, pondering to myself if this was a common occurrence (not the large collection of starlings, but rather the lack of knowledge about them in general).  So, I have taken it on as a mission to inform any readers about this bird.

Starlings were originally native to Europe, including England.  The playwright and poet William Shakespeare (you have heard of him, I hope) included many types of birds in his writings, among them the starling.  Other mentioned species had been released into North America, but all died and none of them became established.  In 1890 a man brought to New York City 60 starlings and released them all.  It was supposed that they too would succumb to the elements as had their other avian friends.  He would be in for a surprise.

Today there are an estimated 200 million of the birds in North America alone.  They have also been introduced to Australia, New Zealand, and can be found in much of the Caribbean.  They have gone as far south as central Texas but no further as they do not do well in the heat.  It is amazing to think that a mere 60 birds have increased to a population of over 200 million in less than 130 years.

Their breeding success has come with numerous consequences.  They are considered an invasive pest because of the harm they cause to other species.  Starlings are cavity dwellers and are very aggressive; they out-compete native species such as the western bluebird for nesting sites resulting in the decline of these and other species.  Further to that is their destructive habits of consuming crops and building nests and defecating in sensitive electronic areas which they can access through fairly small holes.  They travel great distances in search of food and are excellent vectors in the transmission of weeds.

They cause millions of damage to crops every year.  They have wiped out many bird species through competition.  They cause damage to property, increase noise pollution, and leave their droppings in unwelcome places.  What amazes me in all of this was the intention to help others know what a starling in for Shakespeare's sake, and today many have no idea as to what they are.  There is some irony in that thought.

Thanks for reading.   www.ericspix.com

The grey catbird - an oxymoron?

A grey catbird; notice the chestnut coloured undertail feathers.

The grey catbird's name comes from its singular call which, to some, sounds like the meow of a cat.  You can go to this website and click on the songs and calls button to hear it for yourself, but I can't totally agree with the comparison.  However, the joining of two non-related species' names together tends to be a somewhat common practice.  Consider these combinations:  Dogfish, Lionfish, Whaleshark, Grasshopper mouse, Tigershark, Birddog, Batfish, Cowbird, and even the familiar Horsefly.  They are all oxymorons, of a sort, as they combine two common organism names into one moniker.

Some of these seem outrageous.  For example, the grasshopper mouse suggests a small rodent with kangaroo-like legs.  It projects an image of a muscle-bound hurdler which could jump to safety simply with an extension of its hind limbs.  It is, in fact, a small mouse found in Alberta which has a predilection for insects; many of them happen to be grasshoppers.  In fact, much of its diet, over 90%, is carnivorous in nature.  The name, in theory, should give some description of the habits or appearance of its host.

Consider, for a moment, some other possibilities.  What would a woodpecker shark look like or how might it behave?  How about an iguana ant or maybe even something as strange as a penguin worm.  Indeed, you can come up with any combination that you like, and then to really get things going, describe its behaviours and/or appearance based upon the cojoined title.

Let's examine the behaviours of the world famous Snapperclam.  The term snapper relates to a marine fish found on the continental shelves throughout the world.  However, the term refers, in this case, more to the snapping action of the clam when disturbed.  Equipped with tremendously strong abductor muscles that would make scallops blush, the snapperclam lies quietly in tidepools worldwide, with its shell open awaiting incoming prey.  Most clams are filter feeders, but not the snapper, which has developed a vicious feeding behaviour unique to its order.  Unfortunately, beachgoers without protective footwear (preferably steel toed boots) run the risk of having their toes amputated.  Large snapperclams have been seen detaching the entire foot off of dogs which were harmlessly at play.

Here is a real one:  The mantis shrimp.

This, of course, is all fiction.  However; it is easy enough to get carried away with similar animal names.  Consider the sawfish, carpenter ant, and hammerhead shark for example ...

Thanks for reading.   www.ericspix.com

Shooting birds in low light – Swainson’s Thrush

Photographing birds in the shadowlands of the forest has its challenges.  They are numerous because of the vegetative behemoths which dwell there.  Even on a cloud-free sunny day, light has a hard time penetrating the canopy.  White balance tends to be on the cool side.  Then there is the distance problem.

The forest is, in a way, like a high rise apartment building.  Its tenants have preferences for which floor they reside on.  This is especially true for birds, which are not limited to the forest floor, as are many of the building’s inhabitants.  Grouse and towhees are ground dwellers.  They forage on or near the bottom.  Chickadees and woodpeckers require cavities in trees to nest and are typically found mid-level.  Some, like the Swainson’s thrush and Nashville warbler, prefer the upper reaches.

During spring and summer, the Swainson’s thrush can be heard plying its distinctive song throughout its range.  It makes an escalating series of warbling notes, each bar of its melody increasing in pitch while decreasing in volume.  It is quite somber and pleasant at the same time.  You will notice that it always comes from the top of the forest hotel.  The mysterious songster is plainly heard, but not seen.

I have photographed a great many birds over the years, but have never obtained a Swainson’s thrush picture.  Early on a summer’s day, a hike through a woodland will be accompanied by this denizen’s song.  Yet the musician is rarely seen.  Yesterday I was hiking at a park along the shores of Cultus Lake, an area about two hours east of Vancouver.  A thrush-like bird had perched on a branch close to the path I was on.  It was time to bring my camera to bear.  Could this be the elusive bird I have heard so often but never photographed?

The light was abhorrent.  Even at an ISO of 400, I was only getting a shutter speed of 1/20^th of a second.  I had brought my Panasonic FZ2500 along, a bridge camera with a one-inch sensor which allows me to zoom to a relative focal length of 460 mm.  If I had a full frame camera with me I would have chosen a much higher ISO, but the noise generated by the smaller sensor camera at those values becomes quickly untenable.  The camera’s vibration mitigation system was very good though, and I had nothing to lose by trying.

I shot six or seven images.  Even at 1/20^th of a second, the bird was underexposed because of the backlighting.  However, I was shooting in RAW format and I knew there would be some latitude there.  I could also post correct the white balance easily.  The bird cooperated and hardly moved, apparently as interested in me as I was in it.  Our symbiotic fascination served me well.

When I got back to my computer I processed the photos.  I knew I would not have any great images, but as a birder, I love getting a shot good enough to facilitate identification.  And I did, the elusive Swainson’s thrush was my subject.  Most of the images suffered from camera motion blur, but there was one that was quite useable.  Again, it was not something I would print and frame, but I had finally got a shot of this amazing singer.  It was the achievement of a lifetime.