Tag: bird photography

A Visit from Rose-Breasted Grosbeaks

On a serene May morning, a small flock of Rose-breasted Grosbeaks graced the author’s yard, showcasing their vibrant plumage and bringing beauty to the tranquil scene of nature.

MichaelStephenWills11 Comments


It was a gentle May morning, the kind that seems to hush even the wind, as though nature were holding its breath for something wonderful. Through the kitchen window, just past the black iron gate entwined with the fresh green of climbing rose, I spotted them—feathered heralds of spring’s deepening promise—perched like jeweled notes on a musical staff.


The Rose-breasted Grosbeaks had arrived.

May 3, 2025 Four Male Rose Brested Grosbeaks visited our backyard bird feeder during spring cleanup.


Not one or two, but a small flock, draped in raindrops, feathered in contrast and charm. They gathered around our backyard feeder like guests invited to a familiar table. At 5:56 a.m., the camera captured the first image: two males on the feeder and one each on fence and chair, a bold bib of crimson splashed across snowy chests, huddled against the gray of the feeder, their plumage brilliant even in the diffused dawn light. I couldn’t help but smile. This was a scene of quiet splendor, a symphony for the eyes and soul.


The males, unmistakable in their attire, wore tuxedos of black and white, with the defining rose-red marking on the breast that gives the species its common name. Their scientific name, Pheucticus ludovicianus, is less poetic but equally telling. “Pheucticus” comes from the Greek pheuktikos, meaning “shy” or “avoiding,” reflecting their reclusive habits in forested nesting grounds. “Ludovicianus” refers to Louisiana, an early French colonial name for a vast region including their breeding range—a nod to their North American roots.


At 5:58 a.m., the lens captured more details: a male with slightly mottled wing feathers, suggesting he was a younger bird, still dressing up in adult finery. The trio clung to the feeder’s edge, their heavy, conical beaks—perfect for cracking seeds—clearly visible. That oversized bill gives them the name “grosbeak,” from the French gros bec, literally “large beak.” Functional beauty, you might say.

May 3, 2025 Three of the Four Male Rose Brested Grosbeaks visited our backyard bird feeder during spring cleanup.


Then, at 6:08 a.m., came the contrast—the female. Subtly adorned in warm browns, with creamy streaks and a wash of yellow near the wings, she perched beside her flamboyant mate, as if to say: elegance need not shout. The two birds looked momentarily toward each other, and I was struck by their balance—his flair and her grace. Her eyebrow stripe, called a supercilium, lent her a composed, alert expression. While the male might catch the eye, the female commands attention in her own, quieter way.

May 3, 2025 Male and Female Rose Breasted Grosbeaks visited our backyard bird feeder during spring cleanup.


Rose-breasted Grosbeaks are migratory, long-distance travelers who winter in Central and South America and return each spring to North America’s deciduous and mixed woodlands to breed. Here in upstate New York, our yard is a brief rest stop on their northward journey—or, if I’m lucky, a summer home. They often nest in dense foliage, and their song, a melodic, whistled warble—like a robin who’s taken voice lessons—is often the first clue to their presence.


This morning, no song was needed. Their silent presence was enough.


Watching them, I felt time slow, the kind of moment when the ordinary yard becomes cathedral. Watching them, I felt time slow, the kind of moment when the ordinary yard becomes cathedral. The wet fence and chair under the feeder, even the crumpled leaf bag—everything was blessed by the company of these birds. Rain softened the world, and the birds brought color to its hush.


Later that day, reviewing the photos with metadata timestamps from my iPhone—each image like a verse in a poem—I marveled at what I had witnessed. These weren’t just birds. They were stories in flight, living punctuation marks in the sentence of my morning.


Nature gives us these moments, brief as birdsong and just as sweet. You only have to be still, and ready to receive them.

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References

  1. Pheucticus ludovicianus (Rose-breasted Grosbeak). Cornell Lab of Ornithology – All About Birds.
  2. Jobling, James A. The Helm Dictionary of Scientific Bird Names. London: Christopher Helm, 2010.
  3. Merriam-Webster Dictionary: Etymology of “Grosbeak.”
  4. iPhone 14 Pro Max image metadata (May 3, 2025; 5:56 a.m. to 6:08 a.m.; Ithaca, NY).

Tuxedos on Tour: Three Majestic Mergansers

Join the escapade as you witness three majestic Mergansers, donning nature’s finest tuxedos, in a graceful ballet on the springtime stage of Cayuga Lake.

MichaelStephenWills4 Comments

As you gaze upon these three fine feathered fellows, all members of the exclusive Common Merganser men’s club, they seem to glide upon the watery stage of Cayuga Lake with all the confidence of Broadway stars on opening night. They are the aquatic equivalent of a sharply dressed barbershop quartet, minus one, in their matching tuxedos, ready to sing the springtime serenade of their species.

The chap at the forefront is Captain Black-Crest, sporting a glossy noggin that shimmers with an inner light, undoubtedly the envy of every duck on the pond. He’s streamlined and debonair, with a white body that’s as crisp as the first snowfall and a dark back that’s as sleek as a shadow in moonlight. If ducks had monocles and top hats, he’d be first in line.

In the middle, there’s Sir Dapper-Diver, a mirror image of his companion, with a neck as white as the driven snow and a dignified black back that gleams like polished onyx in the dappled sunlight. He’s the quiet achiever of the group, poised and ready to make the plunge into the depths below, proving that style need not be sacrificed for substance.

And to the right, meet Admiral Feather-Finesse. His poise on the water suggests a mastery of the waves, a commander of the current. He carries his elegant attire with an air of grace that only comes with a natural pedigree. In synchronized perfection, he and his brethren form a regatta of refinement, a display of nature’s own black-tie affair.

These are male Common Merganser (Mergus merganser) in breeding plumage, characterized the body white with a variable salmon-pink tinge, the head black with an iridescent green gloss, the rump and tail grey, and the wings largely white on the inner half, black on the outer half. Like the other mergansers, these piscivorous ducks have serrated edges to their bills to help them grip their prey, so they are often known as “sawbills”. In addition to fish, they take a wide range of other aquatic prey, such as molluscs, crustaceans, worms, insect larvae, and amphibians; more rarely, small mammals and birds may be taken. As in other birds with the character, the salmon-pink tinge shown variably by males is probably diet-related, obtained from the carotenoid pigments present in some crustaceans and fish. When not diving for food, they are usually seen swimming on the water surface, or resting on rocks in midstream or hidden among riverbank vegetation, or (in winter) on the edge of floating ice.

Together, these three Common Mergansers (Mergus merganser) in their prime are a trifecta of elegance, a testament to the timeless beauty found in nature’s simplicity. They paddle forth with purpose, their matching plumage a striking contrast to the rippling blues and grays of the water, a parade of poise and plumage that delights the observant eye.

So, dear reader, as you observe this photo, take a moment to appreciate the charming uniformity and the subtle quirks that make each bird, despite their shared wardrobe, uniquely magnificent. It’s a snapshot of life at its most graceful, a picture worth far more than a mere thousand words.

Copyright 2024 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved

Avian Exploration

Join us in the tranquility of Merritt Island National Wildlife Refuge as we observed avian life, reflecting on nature’s beauty and resilience.

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As my wife, Pam, and I entered the breezy expanse of the Merritt Island National Wildlife Refuge, the world seemed to slow down, allowing us to savor every moment of my journey along Blackpoint Drive. The sky, a sprawling canvas of muted greys, reflected in the wind ruffled waters, enhancing the tranquility of this haven.

Our first encounter was with the elegant Roseate Spoonbills (Platalea ajaja), their vibrant pink feathers a stark contrast against the earthy tones of the marsh. They waded with purpose, their spoon-shaped bills sifting through the water, a dance of survival that was both methodical and beautiful.

In the company of the spoonbills were the stoic Great Egrets (Ardea alba), statuesque in their white plumage. They stood motionless, like sentinels guarding the water’s edge, only to strike with lightning speed when prey ventured too close.

We watched as the Glossy Ibises (Plegadis falcinellus) dipped their curved bills into the water, each movement a study of precision, their dark feathers glistening with an iridescent sheen when caught by the light.

Amongst these avian aristocrats, the unassuming American White Ibises (Eudocimus albus) went about their business. Their red beaks probed the shallows, unperturbed by the presence of their more colorful neighbors or by my watchful eyes.

As we ventured further, the landscape shifted, the water opening up to reveal a gathering of Spoonbills and White Ibises, a community united by the need to feed and the safety of numbers. The occasional flap of wings and contented calls created a symphony that celebrated life in these wetlands.

Isolation took on a new meaning when I spotted a solitary Roseate Spoonbill, its reflection a perfect mirror image on the water’s surface. It was a moment of quiet introspection, the bird and I alone in our thoughts.

Another scene captured my attention as a single spoonbill foraged alongside a Glossy Ibis. The two species, different in appearance and yet similar in their quest for sustenance, shared the space in harmonious coexistence.

Further along, the vista opened up, and we were greeted by a panoramic view of spoonbills dotted along the distant shoreline, the greenery forming a lush backdrop to their pink hues. The expanse of the refuge unfolded before me, a reminder of the vastness and the wild beauty that had drawn us here.

On another stretch, the spoonbills perched in the green embrace of the mangroves, their pink feathers a burst of color among the leaves. It was a scene of natural artistry, the birds blending yet standing out against their verdant stage.

In the final leg of our journey, I found spoonbills perched high in the shrubbery, a testament to the refuge’s diversity. Even in the dense foliage, life thrived, and these birds, usually seen wading, now adorned the treetops like living ornaments.

This drive along Blackpoint was more than a mere observation; it was a passage through a world where time held little sway, and nature was the sole architect. Each bird, each ripple on the water, and each whisper of the grass told a story of existence, resilience, and the intricate web of life. Here, in this secluded corner of the world, we found a connection to the earth and its inhabitants that would stay with us long after.

Copyright 2024 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved