For several years now I have taken part in the midwinter bald eagle survey, hosted by Vermont Audubon. I have had the same route each time–the Winooski River from Waterbury to Lake Champlain. There are over a dozen spots along the river I can stop and scan for eagles, and of course I scan for them from the car when I can. I did see eagle this year, soaring over the river in Jonesville. Along the way I took photos of the river, so here is my 2025 Winooski River portrait.
Last weekend I completed my latest high elevation bird survey for the Vermont Center for Ecostudies‘ Mountain Birdwatch program. Every June people head to the highest points of the northeast to search for bird species that hang out up there. I have been doing it since 2000, so this is my 25th year participating.
I heard about this program because the Green Mountain Club put it in a newsletter or an email. I had already been volunteering for the GMC as a corridor monitor, scoping out this big piece of land next to the Long Trail in Bolton. I enjoyed getting out in the woods for that, so why not one other opportunity to explore the mountains and to help out at the same time? At the time the survey was hosted by the Vermont Institute of Natural Science (VINS). I got in touch and signed up.
My spouse and I lived up the mountain in Bolton then and I was assigned to survey Ricker Peak, between Bolton Mountain and Camel’s Hump. It isn’t on the Long Trail, but there was an old access road that went most of the way there, used by Bolton Valley Resort and whoever maintained the cell tower up there. Because it was so close I could hike right from the house, starting on the alpine ski trails, to get to that access road. It meant getting up early, since that is when the birds are active, but that was not a problem. Have you been up in the mountains when the day wakes? It is magical.
Because these birds nest up high, and because vegetation there is so dense (spruce and fir, mostly), seeing the birds was a rare thing. Mostly it required hearing them. So the training for the survey meant learning bird songs and calls. That is when I learned that birds have songs and calls, and learning both would be helpful. The training required listening to recordings to memorize them. This was 2000, before smart phones, before iPods even, so I recevied a CD in the mail. Mostly I listened in the car until I knew all those bird sounds.
When the program started there were only five focal species, the ones to pay attention to and to mark on data sheets for the study. These were Bicknell’s Thrush, Swainson’s Thrush, Blackpol Warbler, Winter Wren and White-Throated Sparrow. Plus Red Squirrel. Since squirrels will eat bird eggs, bird populations can be affected when squirrel populations jump. I knew the sound of all those critters well. Of course, they were not the only birds I heard so, using other CDs of bird songs, I eventually learned more bird songs and calls. I was too curious not to learn them.
The thing about learning all those bird songs was that it expanded my world. If I went for a hike, or a walk anywhere, I could hear birds singing, often pretty far away. Instead of just the trail in front of me and the woods beside me, I experienced what was beyond what I could see. That Black-Throated Blue Warbler was way off in those maples. It made the woods bigger. And once you start hearing it, it is hard to turn off. The world grows beyond what you can see.
I had several routes over the years, all in Vermont. At one point, however, they decided it made sense to be consistent. Rather than survey any of the peaks that might have those high elevation species, especially Bicknell’s Thrush, the long-term reliability of the data depended on surveying the same places repeatedly. Now there are fewer routes but, if possible, all the peaks in the study get surveyed each year. Ricker Peak didn’t make the cut, so I ended up with a route in the Worcester Range, incredibly beautiful if a tough hike. Now, I have two routes, one on Mount Mansfield and one on Bolton Mountain.
Another change was the timing. At first it was acceptable to do the survey at dusk, since birds are active then as well. The preference was morning, and that was when I did it, but at least dusk was an option. And the morning survey had to be completed between 6:00 and 10:00. That shifted to a 4:00 am start time and eventually each route had a specific start time. When I surveyed the route on Ricker Peak, I would wake up, grab my stuff, and hike up in time to be at the first survey point at 6:00 am. Now when I survey the Bolton Mountain route, I have to hike in the day before and get up before 4:00 am to be at the first survey point by 4:20 am. I wrap things up by 8:00.
Due to some good luck I managed to get the route I just completed on Mount Mansfield. The first point is not far from the visitor center at the top of the toll road. Vermont Center for Ecostudies, who manages the survey, has permission to use the toll road off-hours. They do other bird studies up there as well– with mist nets and all that jazz. I benefit from access to the road. For this route I get up in the wee hours, drive to Stowe, pass through the gate and sign in, then drive up the road. I park in the visitor center lot and hike 15 minutes to the first survey point. This year I was there by 4:00 am just as it was getting light, and started soon after that.
There are some challenging points on the route, but the last three are on the ridge. This time the birds at those ridge points were much quieter than usual, but there is little better than being close to the highest point in the state as the sun comes up. The fog floats in the valleys, Lake Champlain shines, ravens soar over the hills, and it easy to forget all the garbage that is happening in the world. For the first time this year I saw several people by the time I hit my end time at the last survey point–a couple of hikers and several trail runners. Apparently I am not the only one who finds morning in the high peaks enjoyable.
So one more year in the books for this survey. I do wonder how many more years I will continue to do this. I have a couple of sweet routes so one of these days I should pass them on to someone else, someone who will enjoy it, I hope, I much as I do. I feel good about getting up on so many peaks for so many years to help out with this. Hearing a Bicknell’s Thrush sing, which you can only hear way up there, is magic every time. I hope they keep coming back for a long time, whether I am there to hear them or not.
Yesterday I volunteered to look for eagles for Vermont Audubon’s annual eagle survey. My route is the Winooski River, from Waterbury to Lake Champlain. I did see two Bald Eagles, one immature in Williston and one fully mature in Essex. There have been years when I have seen none, so this was a success. It was cold, in the twenties, with a light wind, and a recent coating of snow. I saw some remnants of flooding this fall–plastic jugs half full of oil, lots of branches and leaves, even a complete futon frame. There were a couple of locations I could not go to, closed due to flooding damage, but mostly I had a full survey. Along the way I took a portrait of the river.
It was way too mild for a while. Warm, no snow. Even rainy for several days. That is pretty lame when it comes to winter. Last week I drove to Rhode Island for a couple days. Of course it snowed then. It was not a full-on storm but it made for some slow going. Then it cleared and snowed for me again on the way home. When I got to Bolton on I-89, close enough to home to think I would be there soon, traffic slowed, then stopped. Car off the road? Some slipping and sliding? Hard to tell as it was too far beyond the long line of cars ahead. And so I waited. And kept waiting. We all inched forward a few times but mostly just sat there. A few people got out and walked around. One guy stood on his roof to try to see what was ahead. Another guy walked down the hill to take a leak.
A flatbed came up from behind and so everyone pulled to the side to let it pass. Then another came, led by a state trooper. And we waited. I have no idea how long I was there. I did get out to stretch once. Luckily I had gotten gas and some coffee back in Barre, so I was pretty set. Eventually we did get moving and I finally passed a pickup getting pulled onto one of those flatbeds. The thing was completely burnt–fire ate it right up. Another car was on the other flatbed, front end all smooshified. I found out later that no one was hurt. That could have been bad.
The weather has been seasonal since then. Yesterday and today were cold and windy, like way windy. I went to the lake both days to look for wintering ducks. There was surf at the Charlotte Beach and again today at Chimney Point, waves crashing on the shore and throwing spray. It was hard to stay out long. I was bundled but that wind sucks the heat away right quick. Taking a walk close to home was bitter too. It felt good to get out there and move but good lord that wind tugged at the cheeks. We had snow flurries most of today. More are on the way.
We may get a storm later in the week. I’ll take it. While we have a couple inches of snow on the ground, drifted in spots and bare in others, I would love to see the ground covered. Can’t beat some quality snow in January. The Snow Buntings might appreciate it. They came back today. This is about when they arrived the past two years. We watched them swirl in a flock over the field and loop around to the neighbor’s fields, little white fluffs of fluttering. I spread some seed on the ground to let them know they are welcome. I am sure they will find it, hopefully in time for the storm.
I don’t plan to travel too far this week, so my chances of getting stopped on the interstate are slim. If we get a big old dump of snow, I won’t mind working from home. I need to stay safe, and it is easier to watch the snow fall from my home office, not to mention the Snow Buntings.
Yesterday I participated in Vermont’s annual Bald Eagle survey, as I have for several years now. My route is the Winooski River, from Waterbury to Lake Champlain. I drive along the river, stopping at several spots to watch carefully, and watch less carefully as I drive from point to point. I did see one eagle, in Williston, and otherwise had a day of it watching a beautiful river that gets forgotten or taken for granted or often just not thought about.
The day was warm, relatively, just above freezing. In some past years I have done the survey with temperatures below zero. There was no ice at all yesterday, although there was fresh snow in the hills. The water was high and powered over the dams and ledges, less tame than last year. Here is my most recent portrait of the river.
Yesterday I participated in the annual Midwinter Bald Eagle Survey. My route was the Winooski River, from Waterbury to Lake Champlain. I have surveyed this route several years now. While I did not see even one eagle, I did get to see the river in winter.
Last year the day was warm and there was much less ice. Yesterday I started with single-digit temperatures. By the time I was finished in the early afternoon the temperature was considering hitting 20, but had not yet decided.
Here is my portrait of the Winooski River for January 2022.
I have been busy enough with work lately that I have not wanted to go birding early during the week, even though it is the season for it. So on Saturday I don’t want to give up the chance. Friday night the weather looked good for some morning exploring, so I planned to go. Saturday morning, however, brought light rain. Rain? Seriously? But I went anyway. It was bound to stop soon.
It kept raining. I turned on the windshield wipers. I went to a local nature reserve–it is fairly new and I had not seen much of it. I parked along the road where I thought a trail started. It sort of did start, in the woods, then fizzled when it opened onto a field. I went the way I thought seemed most likely, but it wasn’t much of a trail. I got to the wetland but then was stymied.
By then it was hardly raining, but it had been raining. That meant the tall grass though which I meandered was a bit wet. Dripping, really. Soggy. Soaked. In my haste to leave the house I had put on pants, to avoid ticks, but they were cotton pants. That was dumb. By the time I walked back the way I had come and got to my car, those pants were most definitely not dry.
But there had to be a better access point to this wetland. I drove up the road and found it, hidden in the trees, no parking except along the road. Yes I was soaked but it was Saturday and I did not want to give up and what’s a little cold and wet? So up the hill into the woods I headed, then down the hill in the woods I went, until it opened again in tall grass. There was a clear path but it went both left and right. I went left.
And that way was just as wet as my first attempt. I got even more wet, even though the rain had passed by now. That grass can hold some water. I had a better view of the wetland, saw some ducks, heard a gallinule calling, listened to an Alder Flycatcher and a couple of Veeries singing. I turned around again and thought I would try going right. This was was less wet but the rain started to fall again.
I did find some birds, although not as many as I might have on a clearer day. Back in the car I polished off my warm coffee, waiting for me in the cup holder. I drove home with the wipers on, those cotton pants wicking all that grass water the whole time. I arrived home wet and chilled, satisfied that I had tried and at least had a good walk in a beautiful place. After a hot shower I got some sourdough bread started. I had a day ahead of me yet.
How about this moon? Setting, nearly full, into pink clouds? That’s a good thing. Things aren’t easy these days, for anyone, whether you are facing death or facing boredom. Which degree of not-so-good are you experiencing? Things are hard here, but we are alive.
It snowed yesterday. It seems everyone who has a way to post is posting about it. We got an inch and a half of the cold white stuff. And it was beautiful. Complain if you want–yeah, snow in May. Boo hoo. It was mostly melted by the end of the day anyway. Green and yellow with bright white highlights–if you can’t appreciate that rare beauty, well, is there hope for you?
I saw a fisher a couple mornings ago. It was up in what we call the tick zone, the snowmobile trail cut in the woods that is just a bonanza of birds in May, but that is loaded with ticks. It was a cold morning–the first of several, so there were few birds singing, except for that Black-and-White Warbler that whispered away non-stop. I was standing, quietly, hoping the birds would wake up already. The rustling in the shrubs turned into a huff of startledness that ducked away. The mystery creature slunk through the underbrush and then crossed the trail a little ways away. A giant weasel–way bigger than a mink or an ermine or a river otter. A fisher! I had never seen one.
Walking back through the tick zone, high on seeing the fisher, a white-tailed deer bounded across the trail, hopping way higher than seemed necessary. That is, apparently, just what they do.
My son made pizza for lunch today. I helped with with the dough, but mostly he handled it himself. And it was really good. Maybe it was really good in part because I was not doing the making, but mostly he just did a bang-up job.
Daffodils are blooming. Dandelions speckle the lawn. Leaves sprout from buds. And I just had a pile of M&M’s. Good things. Good things are everywhere.
Shorebirds are passing through. Most people have no idea. Maybe they see “sandpipers” if they visit the beach, but in Vermont? No beach, no sandpipers, right? Well, mostly. But when those little wading birds head south, they stop along the way.
I went to Delta Park, in Colchester, to find some shorebirds the other morning. They were there. I saw seven different species. Lake Champlain is low enough that I could walk around the point. At times the wetland bleeds into the lake, so it makes for a wet walk. But I got around the corner and found them.
Some were on a sandbar, not far from shore–close enough to see well with the right optics. There were Semipalmated Plovers, the cutest birds you’ve ever seen–plump little buggers with a mask and orange bill. There was a Dunlin, with a long curved bill, probing deep in the mud for breakfast. And there were long-legged Yellowlegs, living up to their names with long bright yellow legs.
I also saw several Great Egrets, large elegant white wading birds, resting on a log just off the beach. And an osprey soaring overhead. And in the willows, a Yellow Warbler in its drab fall plumage. And on top of all that wildlife, the place itself is just stunning. Green reeds and grasses spilling out toward the lake, and the Adirondacks strutting their stuff over in New York. When I go there I can’t help but fumble a little, I am just so in awe.
So I saw my shorebirds. I stopped for a cup of coffee to sip on my way home. I watched the morning grow into full-on day. I vowed to go again the next morning, even though it would mean another drive to get out there. But when I woke in the dark that night, it was raining.
We have not had anything but showers in months, so I didn’t think much of it. But as the light strengthened, the rain did too. And it kept coming down. I was disappointed. But we got rain. We needed rain. I stayed home most of day–baked bread, made granola, read a book, payed some bills. Shorebirds will be passing through for a little while. I will get out to Delta Park again. And I will see those shorebirds that all the bikers and joggers on the nearby bike path don’t even know are there.
I have to go when I can go. So I went up to the town forest a couple mornings ago, when I had some time to do it. If I had total flexibility I might have gone the day before, when the sky was clear. But I have to work, and I have a family and, you know, life stuff. So I went when I had time.
May is the month to find migrating birds. And, currently, it is May. So up I went to see what is passing through, or what has arrived for the summer. There was some fog down low, but as I drove up the hill, the fog got thicker. Up at the small parking area it was a bit socked in. I could see, mind you, just not very far. Tree tops were obscured, so I had to listen more than look.
When I go birding I usually listen more than look anyway, so it was natural. I have to remind myself sometimes to look up, in fact. There is just so much sound that birds make–songs and calls and drumming and chips and peeps. On this day I heard plenty of birds–Winter Wrens and American Redstarts and Veeries and Mourning Warblers. The bird of the day was the Bay Breasted Warbler–one that passes through–peeking out from a spruce tree right next to the trail at head height. Cool looking little dude.
I wandered around in the fog for a while before I had to get off to work. It was a successful and satisfying morning. The fog behind the fresh greenery was a quiet portrait of spring. I was in awe. It was awesome. I sank into the landscape and, by observing closely, discovered some of the landscape’s details. Not a bad way to start the day.
Mercury on the Move 