It was another beautiful blue-sky morning in Estabrook, and the low sun gave these mallards a gorgeous golden glow.
This downy woodpecker caught some of that same glow just a bit upstream.
And so did this blue heron, who has been in that same spot for three days in a row now.
As I approached the boardwalk below the falls, I finally found someone willing to brave the cool shade in search of breakfast, this well-insulated looking little junco.
This chickadee nearby was probably warm enough from all its acrobatics that it didn’t need the sun either.
Things quieted back down until I reached the north end, where I found a bufflehead dawdling near another bunch of mallards. Once again, I managed to be on the other side of a nice screen provided by a fallen willow tree, and so the bird seemed not to notice me, and I was able to sit and wait for it to pass in front of a gap in the screen as it drifted back and forth.
Finally, on my way back south, I spotted a red squirrel who first did its classic “you lookin’ at me” pose.
And then, perhaps, it didn’t like the fact that I clearly was looking at it, so it sounded the alarm, which I’ve never seen a red squirrel do before.
I’ve gotta got to school tomorrow for the last day of classes, so I saved some pictures, and I’ll share them with you then.
It was a beautiful morning in Estabrook with blue skies, bright sun, a light breeze, and seasonal temperatures. I was surprised, however, that I barely saw a little bird. Sure, I could hear cardinals, chickadees, nuthatches, and juncos, but everyone must have been too busy to sit for a picture today.
Instead, we’re left with a few of the larger critters, starting with this doe and her youngster by the southern parking lot. A second youngster had slipped through that wall of buckthorn behind them before I could aim my camera.
Down at the river, the water had subsided quite a bit since yesterday, and some ice was back along with a few mallards. As I scanned a bunch along the far shore to see if there was a new visitor hiding amongst them, look who I saw.
Sure enough, a beaver was having one last snack before heading off to bed, and yes, that’s ice floating in the foreground. Once it finished with that little stick, it swam across the river…
and continued north along the eastern shore before I lost track of it. Sweet dreams!
By then the sun was peeking into the river valley and creating this scene for us.
As usual, I continued to the north end, but I only spotted this little cutie on the way enjoying its breakfast.
I was a little disappointed that I didn’t spot the coyote again this morning, but not very surprised. They didn’t earn the nickname of “Wily” for nothing, I suppose.
I wasn’t even sure I wanted to bother heading out this morning with the way the wind was howling, so I didn’t expect to see much when I did go, but you never know, right?
Wonders never cease, however, and look who finally decided to make an appearance! I first spotted it right on the trail along the river, but Icouldn’t get my camera on it before it scampered up the bank. Luckily, as I continued north, it gave me another chance and looked down upon me from the top of the bluff. As you can see, I couldn’t get my autofocus to pick a path through the twigs between us, but I believe you can still clearly recognize a coyote (Canis latrans) when you see one. Somewhere, Mike De Sisti is laughing out loud, I’m sure.
I know these are commonly sighted in Shorewood, and I have heard many reports of sightings in the park, but this is the first photographic evidence I’ve been able to produce, and not for lack of trying.
After it opted to continue east and out of sight, I continued north and only saw mallards, geese, and a few gulls. With all the rain we had last night, the river was up at least a foot, and most of the ice was either melted or washed downstream.
I kept my eyes peeled, nevertheless, and was finally rewarded on my way back south, soon after the abandoned bridge abutments, when I glimpsed this blue heron fishing just off our side of the river. The snow was coming down pretty good at that point, as you can see, so my autofocus was even more useless than before, and I finally reverted to manual focus. Oh, the humanity, I know, but a crutch is hard to let go once you get used to it. At least I’ll be better prepared for my next coyote sighting, which I hope doesn’t take another 20 months to materialize.
Anyway, this brings our list of mammals photographed up to 12, at long last. I think all that’s left that we might expect to see are foxes, possums, mice, bats, and maybe even a skunk, if we’re lucky. How great would that be, eh?
If you’ve looked outside today, you might guess from the gloomy skies that this morning got off to a slow start, and you’d be right. On the flip side, the winds were calm, the temperatures were mild, and no precipitation was falling, yet.
As I walked north along the river, several downy woodpeckers put on nice shows, but it was really still too dark, so I waited until I almost reached the falls, and this guy made it worth the wait. I almost never see them not actively foraging or flying to the next tree to continue.
There were also chickadees in the vicinity, and this one was kind enough to hold still for just long enough.
The riverbank mud is melting from the top down after the cold snap, so it was still firm enough to walk on, but the litter I’ve been wanting to collect for weeks was not frozen solid into it, and I had a bag full by the time I reached the falls. So, I climbed the stairs to the trash can at the beer garden, and this was my reward: a junco that was a lot hungrier than it was worried about me.
I took 38 pictures as I inched closer and closer until finally a squirrel with a walnut to stash inadvertently shooed it away.
As I continued north of the falls, I was surprised to find not a duck on the water. Perhaps an eagle had come through earlier, and they just haven’t returned yet. In the meantime, oak tree leaves were still drifting down onto the sliver of river ice along the riverbank, and here’s one of them.
As I approached the wide part of the river, between the two islands, I thought I heard a mallard quacking, but I couldn’t find it, and it turned out to be this blue heron, instead. They are very frugal with their flying, in my experience, and only take to the air to go fishing or when someone gets too close, but this one circled overhead for a while, croaking its distinctive, prehistoric call as it went.
I hoped it would settle down on a tree limb for a bit, so I could get a better picture, but it never did. Maybe it’s looking for another heron, and I hope they find each other.
On my way back south, the river was still empty, but I heard another familiar call, this time from a female belted kingfisher. As you know, they are crazy shy, and by some perfect luck, the downed tree between us provided enough of a screen to let her feel comfortable but left just one gap big enough for me to shoot through. I think this might be my best kingfisher picture yet.
Eventually someone came walking up the path, and our hero took off for the far shore, so I took a moment to collect a little more river trash, when suddenly there was a bunch of whistling sounds out over the water. I looked up just in time to catch the spectacle of this whole raft of mallards coming in for a landing.
They must have figured that the coast was finally clear, or maybe they were fleeing an eagle upriver, and if the eagle’s there, it won’t be here. Either way, welcome back, kids!
By now, you may have noticed that the morning was shaping up pretty nicely, especially after such a slow start, but wait, the best is still to come!
As I was walking south along the boardwalk below the beer garden, I spotted some little birds flitting between the trees along the river and the brush on the side of the bluff, as I often do there. These birds, however, didn’t behave as the usual juncos, goldfinches, or chickadees do. I got out my binoculars for a quick closer look, and I couldn’t believe my eyes.
Who could that be with the little white eye ring? Then it turned around for me, and its ID was unmistakable now, but I still couldn’t believe my eyes.
After being AWOL for the entire year, I finally found my bluebird of happiness, in the middle of December, and there were three of them!
What a pretty morning to return to Estabrook! The skies stayed gray, but the fresh snow was marvelous. I spotted another bald eagle over the river this morning, a mature one with a white tail and head this time, but it didn’t want to stick around for pictures. Don’t worry. I’ll get one for you soon enough.
Meanwhile, here’s a grey squirrel beside the river and back at its breakfast now that the eagle has safely flown back north.
This afternoon, I went for a little hike with my sister, niece, and brother in Sleeping Giant State Park, about 8 miles down the road from my mom and dad’s place. As we reached what might be described as the chin of the “sleeping giant”, my niece, Lizzy, spotted these characters perched right on the edge of the cliff.
Here’s the best close-up my phone could produce without me getting close enough to disturb them.
Just when I think I know what’s going, a situation like this comes along to remind me that I barely know a thing.
Anyway, I fly back home tomorrow, so I probably won’t be able to post anything, but I should be back in Estabrook on Wednesday morning, and I can’t wait to see who’s there.
Sorry about the radio silence. I’m on a quick trip out east for my mom’s birthday, and I thought for sure that I would have had time before now to send out an update, but clearly I thought wrong.
I haven’t been able to take any new pictures in the park, obviously, but I do have a couple of nice reader photos to share. Here’s one from my sister, Deb, a veterinarian in Connecticut. Someone brought a bird into her clinic that had been caught in a glue trap, and Deb managed to get it loose and cleaned the goo off its toes with the same stuff she uses to clean the goo left over from bandages off the toes of pets.
Our best guess is that this unlucky/very lucky little cutie is a Carolina wren (Thryothorus ludovicianus). Deb confirms that “the edges of his wings were checkered,” and reports that when released “he just flew off.” We’re all hoping it recovers fully from this traumatic experience.
Meanwhile, my sister-in-law, Mary, sent me this image of a ruffed grouse (Bonasa umbellus) she spotted in Two Rivers, Wisconsin. I have no further information at this time.
Just to round out the set, here’s a nice junco from back on October 30, 2021.
It was nice and mild this morning, but I didn’t think it was ever going to get light out. The streetlights didn’t turn off until 8am, and that’s when I finally headed out the door.
The first surprise came just above the falls where I found the hooded merganser hen taking a nap all by her lonesome.
Fortunately, the answer came soon enough, at the north end, where I found not one, but two buffleheads amongst the mallards!
Perhaps the “friendship” was all just a ruse, a relationship of convenience. Perhaps I’m just reading way too much into this.
Anyway, as I was seeing if I could get a better shot of the buffleheads, there was suddenly a commotion, with loud mallard honking, just off the southern tip of the northern island, and look who soon retired to a branch overhead.
From our breakfast table, it sure looks gorgeous out, but I gotta go to campus this morning and keep tryin’ to learn ’em something. Meanwhile, here are a few more pictures from yesterday to tide you over.
A goldfinch seems to say, “see my wings and tail are still fancy, even in my drab winter coat.”
A male cardinal seems to say, “give me a break.”
After the red squirrel picture yesterday, a grey squirrel asks, “what am I, chopped liver?” Sorry, Buddy. To red-tailed hawks maybe, but to me the better analogy is “a dime, a dozen,” I’m afraid. Now if you would just let me catch you hauling a mouthful of leaves up to your nest…
Herring gulls continue to catch fish like they are going out of style.
And this youngster stopped by to ask “if any of that fish was left over?” But no, it’s gonna hafta catch its own.
There was a trio of geese on the rapids, and it seems that one of them might have gotten used to being fed by some well-meaning but misguided soul. He paddled right over to me and waited patiently, but I tried to explain that 1. I don’t have anything for him, and 2. even if I did, it would be bad for him
Nevertheless, he followed me down the shore like a polite puppy, and it was hard to say “no”, but I really didn’t have a scrap on me.
His mate wasn’t quite so bold, but dutifully followed along, and the third wheel kept its distance out in the middle of the river.
Lastly, here’s one more ice shot before the coming warm-up melts it all.
It was a pretty nice morning in Estabrook, all-in-all. Sure, the skies were gray, but not too dark or precipitating, and the air was seasonably cool, but the winds were calm. I’ll take it!
Because of the cloud cover, I loitered over breakfast to let the skies lighten, and didn’t get out very early. Happily, my timing was just right to spot this handsome couple, taking a brief pause from stuffing their gullets with fine, river-bottom weeds, somewhere along the mild rapids on the lower river.
Also up at such a reasonable hour was this red squirrel feigning surprise that I’d want a picture of “li’l ol’ me?”
On the other hand, this foraging chickadee kept its eyes on the prize and didn’t even bother looking my way.
On my way back south, I finally managed to capture an image of one of the hairy woodpeckers who’ve been loudly announcing their presence for the last few days.
Back on the water, the herring gulls are still catching fish.
Signs of Life in Estabrook Park 
