The rain did quit by morning, and the sun even came out around noon, but man-oh-man it sure was cold in the breeze before then. After a couple of hours outside, I had to go back to my apartment, get warmed up, and put on more layers before going out again.

When the sun was out, however, and especially if you could get out of the breeze, it sure was nice. So nice, in fact, that I saw my first butterfly of the season, this skittish peacock (Aglais io), whom we haven’t seen since September. I read that they hibernate instead of migrating, same as the mourning cloaks in Estabrook Park, so they can be the first on the scene as soon as the weather is warm enough.

The graylag geese goslings we first saw just yesterday were also enjoying the warm sun after lunch.

As was this chiffchaff, one of the first birds I ever photographed here.

And this willow warbler, whom we also saw last summer.

The main event, for me anyway, was this kestrel hunting.

Here it is again after collecting a very plump-looking rodent.

And here’s a closer shot from later in the day when the clouds had mostly cleared out.

Finally, here’s a patch of butterbur blossoms (Petasites hybridus), that have sprung up all over the place in the past two weeks.

And that concludes the Dutch portion of our program, at least for now. I fly back home on Tuesday, and I hope to have something pretty from Estabrook Park to show you when I write again.

Despite flipping to a new page in the calendar, the wet weather continues unabated here in South Holland. Happily, the birds just keep singing, and new ones keep arriving, so here’s who I could get a picture of this morning.

The wrens have been loud and proud for a few weeks now, but usually from good cover, so this bold little cutie really caught my eye.

Here’s another one you’ve seen before, but can you guess who it is?

Ta da! It’s a bluethroat, whom we’ve only first seen a couple of weeks ago showing off the band of orange on his tail feathers.

The graylag geese have joined the Egyptian geese and are now also leading little flocks of goslings.

While I was checking out the geese, I was stunned to see a flash of bright yellow, but not too stunned to track it into these reeds.

Even better, the little sweetheart crept back out of the reeds so that we could get a good look. This is the first western yellow wagtail (Motacilla flava) I’ve ever seen and a close cousin of the white wagtail (Motacilla alba) we saw just last weekend.

There are still more shovelers than I wanted to count, and here are two drakes putting their big bills to work.

Speaking of big bills, the spoonbills have been back for a few weeks, but this is the first time one has given me a chance to take a picture.

Finally, even though the Egyptian goose goslings near campus are already starting to look nearly grown, here’s a trio out on the polder that look quite a bit fresher.

The rain is forecast to dry up a bit overnight, so here’s hoping we get some blue sky tomorrow.

Oof, what a morning. It wasn’t raining or particularly cold, but the unrelenting wind was whipping at a constant 27 mph, and I can still feel it on my skin after a nice lunch, shower, and nap. The birds were abundant, however, and I even spotted a few hares, but everyone was hunkered down and not very photogenic today, I’m afraid.

Nevertheless, a few found themselves in range of my camera, if only briefly, and this first one is a white wagtail, whom we haven’t seen since last fall.

The green-winged teals are still here, and quite shy, but this dapper fellow was willing to endure my presence for a moment rather than give up his cozy nook out of the wind.

Right by the teal, this handsome couple of gadwalls, were also keeping low and out of the wind.

Finally, I was able to get close enough for a picture to this dashing pair of barnacle geese, whom I’ve only shown you once before, and that was from a bike ride to the coast last summer. I’ve seen them here, just south of Delft a few times this spring, but always far off in the distance.

That’s the show for today, folks, but the forecast is for the winds to die down to a pleasant 4 mph by morning, so keep your fingers crossed.

Happy belated vernal equinox. I read that it occurred sometime last evening, depending on your time zone. Anyway, I’ve got some pictures left over from the weekend that “didn’t fit the narrative,” so I thought I’d use them to help celebrate this special occasion.

First up, here’s a handsome tufted duck drake from Saturday, when the sun was out.

And here’s a common shelduck, from Sunday, when the clouds were thick and threatening drizzle. He’s probably a male, by the looks of his “particularly crisp” coloring, “bright red” bill, and “prominent knob at the forehead.”

Here’s a northern lapwing, and his “long crest and a black crown, throat and breast contrasting with an otherwise white face” all suggest that he is also a male. They are making an incredible sound lately, which I didn’t hear last summer, that sounds for all the world like a kid playing with an electronic toy.

Here’s another ring-necked pheasant cock strutting his stuff in the morning sun…

And here’s the bevy of hens he’s trying to impress. Don’t they just look enthralled?

Here’s yet another grey heron picture just because they seem to let me take these portraits if I’m quick about it.

Finally, here’s another look at the singing robin from Saturday, but deep in the shade.

Lastly, here’s another look at the singing bluethroat, also from Sunday. I read that you can also spot these in northern Alaska, in case you ever happen to be there. Keep an eye out.

I spoke too soon about the spring weather, I guess, because the cool breeze this morning cut right to my bones even with another layer on, but I should thank my lucky stars that at least it wasn’t also raining.

The chill was worth it, however, to catch a glimpse finally of the aptly-named bluethroat (Luscinia svecica), one of only eight birds pictured on the wall of the blind at Ackerdijkse Plassen, so I figure it’s gotta be special. I had already been searching the reeds for a while, had decided to call it a morning, and was walking back to my bicycle, when I finally spotted this brave fellow willing to let me have a peek.

Take a listen to the sweet song he sings to announce his arrival.

Bluethroats aren’t the only birds belting out a tune these days, of course, and here’s a European robin making his contribution to the cacophony.

I also finally captured an image of a male European greenfinch (Chloris chloris) making his distinctive buzzing sound that I’ve been hearing for a couple of weeks. We’ve only ever seen a female before, but that was back in July, and she was keeping quiet at the time.

Back to the reeds, here’s one of several reed buntings chiming in, whom we saw already last week, and who are a lot bolder than the bluethroats.

That’s it for the little birds today. Next up, we have another member of the family Columbidae, the doves and pigeons, who is brand new to us: a stock dove (Columba oenas). I first noticed a pair last weekend and thought they were just feral pigeons, like the ones you can see in just about any city in the world, but they were in an odd location, far from town, and much shyer than pigeons usually are, so they took off as soon as I stopped for a closer look, hence my lack of a picture until now.

There were two again this morning, and they appear to be nesting under the thatched eave of the windmill on which he is perched.

Bigger still are these great crested grebes, whom I almost caught in the middle of their courtship dance, but who quickly quit as soon as they noticed me watching.

Even bigger, are these nesting storks, who appear to be up to a little remodeling this morning.

Perhaps he’s the one remodeling, and she’s just trying to stay out of his way. In any case, I sure hope he can wrap that up before the stork arrives…..

Anyway, here at last are a couple of the biggest birds on the polder performing their courtship maneuver. I had stopped my bike beside the trail, and I heard a ruckus behind me, but by the time I could get myself turned around, this was all there was to see.

With any luck, we are finally done with snow and heavy overnight frost. Today I got away without wearing my poofy coat for the first time this season, and I mostly left my gloves in my pocket.

Another noticeable change is that the chiffchaff are back and singing up a storm. This morning it was sometimes difficult to hear other birds over the chorus of chiffchaffs busily announcing their arrival, but it’s always great to see that kind of enthusiasm.

The black-headed gulls have finally grown their black head-feathers back out.

Here’s one of the feisty little squawk-boxes suggesting to a buzzard that it soar over someone else’s pond.

Here’s a better look at that buzzard’s pretty underside.

Speaking of gulls, here’s another new one for us, a common gull (Larus canus) this time. It has grey wings and back, like a herring gull, but is almost as small as a black-headed gull, has a reddish ring on its bill almost like a ring-billed gull, and has dark eyes.

Speaking of new birds, here is yet another wading bird that I’ve never seen before, the striking pied avocet (Recurvirostra avosetta), back perhaps from wintering along the northern coast of Africa. There were three of them, and even though they flitted around a bit, they kept about a couple hundred yards away, so I’m thrilled that the pictures came out as clear as they did.

Meanwhile the Egyptian goose goslings, which we first saw just last month, have already more than doubled in size, and are even starting to get their adult plumage in.

Finally, flowers are blooming everywhere, mostly crocuses and daffodils so far, but these actually look wild, and I believe they are the same marsh marigolds (Caltha palustris) we see in Estabrook Park, but not until April. It appears that the Dutch call them spindotterbloem, which Google translates to spider marigold.

Oof, what a morning! At first, I was all excited because the rain did quit early, as I am sure you all hoped, and the radar looked nice and clear. Then, when I got out to the Ackerdijkse Plassen, I was reminded that soaking drizzle does not appear on radar, and I only dared take out my camera a couple of times.

Happily, one of those times was when this dashing sparrowhawk surprised the heck out of me and landed on a grassy berm just 10 yards in front of me. I had to shoot through a screen of tall reeds, but they were sparce enough and close enough to me that they barely degraded the image.

It didn’t take long for ol’ hawkeyes to spot me through the same reeds, however. Can you tell how I knew that my cover was blown?

And that’s it for today, I’m afraid, but luckily I still have a couple pictures from yesterday that I haven’t shown you yet. Here are a slew of curlews waiting for the ground to thaw enough for them to go foraging in it with those amazing beaks.

Here’s a passel of black-tailed godwits in a similar boat.

Here’s a common redshank, on the left, and an oyster catcher, on the right, just standing around on the ice.

And here’s a lapwing, on the left, and a redshank getting to work, on the right, after the ice finally melted.

Lastly, here’s a handsome ring-necked pheasant rustling up his own breakfast and completely unaware of all that ice.

The trip to Bavaria I mentioned last weekend didn’t pan out, so I’m still here in South Holland, and what a beautiful day it was, especially after the rain and snow we had for most of the week. It was cold, and most open water had a skin of ice, but the sun was out, the air was calm, and the day warmed up nicely. The friend I was going to visit, Christoph, is also here, so he came with me into the countryside to see what we could see.

The first big surprise was this spoonbill, which we’ve seen before, but not yet this season, circling over the Ackerdijkse Plassen. Welcome back, you big beauty!

I mentioned that the water froze overnight, and here is a group of curlews, the bigger bird with the curved beak, and godwits, the smaller bird with the straight beak, standing around on said ice and waiting for it to thaw so they can get to their breakfast trapped below.

If you are wondering which godwits those are, good for you, but wonder no longer because here you can plainly see that they are black-tailed godwits (Limosa limosa), a brand new species for us, and not the bar-tailed godwits I showed you last summer.

Here’s another big surprise, but in a smaller package. Long-time readers may recognize this female hooded merganser, whom we often see in Estabrook Park, but who has no business fishing on a canal in South Holland, or so I read. Where did you come from, little cutie, and how did you get here?

The northern shoveler, on the other hand, has a naturally occurring world-wide distribution, accept for Australia, so this drake is right at home.

Another new arrival I spotted today is this reed bunting, whom we haven’t seen since last summer.

And finally, here’s a great cormorant collecting nesting materials, and in case you are wondering where they nest…

…here you go. They have a whole rookery, with about a couple dozen nests, of which here are two, at the west edge of the Ackerdijkse Plassen, and to which there is a short footpath that I only discovered today. Better late than never, eh?

Those are the pictures fit to print from today, and thanks to Christoph for helping me spot so many gorgeous creatures. It is supposed to rain overnight, so keep your fingers cross that it quits by morning.

Besides all the new birds I saw yesterday or was finally able to photograph for the first time, there were plenty of old favorites around, too. While I was checking out the falcons up on the School of Architecture tower, I noticed a pair of European jays in the tree right over my head. They seemed oblivious to me, which was really odd, until I noticed a third, which suggests they were probably too busy sorting out some kind of love triangle to pay me any attention.

Out on the polder, I was happy to spot a small group of white-fronted geese, whom I haven’t seen recently, and whom I feared had all returned to the tundra already to make more .

Out on the water, I captured my best picture yet of a pintail drake and hen. This is the first time I’ve seen one sporting their namesake “pin tail”. Just last month the drake kept his pointed down toward the water.

I saw my first curlew of the season during the week, when I was just out on a bike ride without my camera, and I was sure glad it stuck around for me to come back and get this picture. Welcome back sweetie!

Here’s another picture of that amazing snipe I first showed you yesterday. I hear they are reported in Estabrook, from time to time, and know that I know where and how to look, I hope to show you some local ones in the future.

Finally, the gray herons, who have been here all winter, are as plentiful as ever, and here’s one from the southeast corner of campus.

I think that’s it from this weekend, and I doubt I’ll have anything to show you during the week, but next weekend I’ve booked a train ride down to Bavaria to visit a buddy, and he promises good alps and good marshes, so I have a hope for some good pictures. Wish me luck!

Wow! What a “morning”, and I’m using scare quotes because I didn’t get home till 1pm, even though I headed out right after sunrise, at around 7:30. I must admit that some of that time was spent waiting out rain showers, under a roof if I could find one, or just under my umbrella if not, but there was also just so much to see.

I started out on campus, as I did yesterday, and I heard the green woodpecker again, but couldn’t spot it today. Instead, here’s an oyster catcher doing its best warrior III (virabhadrasana III) yoga pose to show us its pretty black-and-white wing and even a little bit of jewelry.

The fun really started, though, when I got out into the countryside. Just as I came to the first big, open field, I heard a call that reminded me of killdeer, so I immediately stopped to look for it. Instead of a killdeer, I saw a small blue flash that I was just barely able to track. It bounced a few times farther down the canal before I could finally get my camera on it, so this picture is not so great, but it will do to identify our very first common kingfisher (Alcedo atthis). Man, they are tiny compared to the belted kingfishers we have in Estabrook. At just 34–46 grams (1³⁄₁₆–1⁵⁄₈ oz), they can easily perch on just a reed, compared to the 113–178 grams (4.0–6.3 oz) plus a belt, which definitely requires a real branch.

Then, while I was waiting out a rain shower in one of the observation blinds on the edge of Ackerdijkse Plassen, I heard another familiar call. This one was a bit more distinctive, and loud as heck, so I got it right this time. It helped that I’ve heard it many times here last fall, although I have never managed to spot the bird before, until this morning. Here’s my first ever Cetti’s warbler (Cettia cetti) picture, and this one came out not too bad.

Once the shower was done, I pressed on to see who was out on the water, and came across another big surprise in a little package, yet another new bird for us, a water pipit (Anthus spinoletta). It was about as far away as the kingfisher, so the picture is about as good, but it’ll have to do for now. Some of you might be thinking, “haven’t we just seen a couple of pipits already?” Well, you’re right. We saw an American pipit on the Rio Grande in Texas, and then a meadow pipit on the Sečovlje Saltpans in Slovenia. For whatever reason, pipits have been popping up all over lately, and no one is more surprised than me.

Right in front of the pipit was another bird with a well-deserved reputation for hiding, which I’ve glimpsed once or twice, but never managed to photograph until now. Here’s our first picture of a common snipe (Gallinago gallinago), and yes, they are quite real, despite what you may have heard in your youth.

Finally, the lapwings are back in droves!

Hundreds of them!

That’s enough excitement for one day. I’ll have some more pictures for you tomorrow.