Readers’ wildlife photos

July 11, 2026 • 8:15 am

Please send in good wildlife photos if you got ’em. The bad news is that I’ve run out of contributions. The good news is that Scott Ritchie of Cairns, Oz, gave me permission to steal photos from his Facebook page, and he’s a superb photographer.  This one shows a visit to an area that has black swans. Scott’s captions and IDs are indented, and you can enlarge his photos by clicking on them.

I went to Melbourne during the middle of January to visit friends. Of course, birds are my feathered friends. This report cover a visit to the WTP, Western Treatment Plant, at Werribee, Victoria. These names pass mythically from the lips of Australian birders. I’ve been there before and really enjoyed it, but this past trip was wild. WTP is a series of quite large, secondary sewage treatment ponds, and lagoons. These abut along the great Southern Ocean and you get this wonderful interaction of freshwater and saltwater wetlands and associated birds. These are used, particularly in our summer, as overwintering sites for migratory shorebirds. But there’s a lot of resident waterfowl and waders there too. The WTP is so valued that you have to have a key to the gate for access to the site. Fortunately, my friend David was a key-carrying twitcher.

The weather was crazy, with 45 KPH winds. One of the first things I discovered was that strong winds can really mess with a telephone lens. My lens was being buffeted by the gusty, easterly winds to the point where I had to remove the lens hood to stabilise the camera. But a few interesting things happen because of the wind. It was a great opportunity for BIF shots; birds in flight. Birds generally take-off and land into the wind, and because it was so strong, they were moving quite slowly. So I got nice shots of normally very fast birds such as terns and sandpipers as they came into land. Attached are some fun pics.

The next day I did a short walk through Banyule Flats Reserve, an urban Melbourne wetland. The highlight was to see the oh so cute Owlet Nightjar, as well as a family of Tawny Frogmouths. Shout out to Lyn Easton for leading the tour

A Black Swan (Cygnus atratus) Beach. The high winds packed the east facing beach with seagrass. And the Black Swans made for the buffet:

A beach of Blacks Swans, necks writhing like snakes.

Amazing!:

“Ahh, now that feels good.” An Australian Spotted Crake (Porzana fluminea) enjoys the breeze up its bum:

“Bugger off!” But is not happy with the hordes of shore flies:

An immature Black-shouldered Kite (Elanus axillaris) gives us the eye:

Whiskered Terns (Chlidonias hybrida) cruised flew slowly against the wind, providing good views for the camera:

. . . and another:

A Black Kite (Milvus migrans) swings down to pick up a dead little bird that was hit by a car:

A large flock of Australian shelducks (Tadorna tadornoides) fly into the WTP. It was great to see large numbers of waterfowl darken the skies:

I had fun shooting, small short birds they say, came into land against the wind at adjacent pool. This is a Red-necked Stint (Calidris ruficollis):

And here comes a Sharp-tailed Sandpiper (Calidris acuminata):

A family of Tawny Frogmouths (Podargus strigoides) greet the day at Banyule Flats Reserve:

But he poses stoically, “You can’t see me!”  Frogmouths sit still, imitating dead branches and stumps:

A bit of a loose feather gives him away:

An Owlet Nightjar (Aegotheles sp.) peeks out of his hole hollow. He stared at all the photographers down below. We must’ve started him because then he just disappeared. But we waited and waited:

“Come on, take your pictures!” He suddenly popped up, posing nicely:

Readers’ wildlife photos

July 8, 2026 • 8:15 am

Ecologist Susan Harrison is back with some bird photos from California featuring rookeries (there are some lovely shots of chicks and juveniles).  Susan’s notes and IDs are indented, and you can enlarge her photos by clicking on them.

Rookery Scenes

Recently I visited two local rookeries where colonies of large wading birds breed in early- to midsummer.   It was fun to watch the nest building, egg tending, and varied interactions among adults and young birds of mixed ages.   In some cases (like the Cattle Egrets), it appeared that young birds were competing with each other to be at the head of the feeding line.

Western Cattle Egrets (Ardea ibis), Black-crowned Night Herons (Nycticorax nycticorax), and Snowy Egrets (Egretta thula) were breeding at Sacramento’s North Natomas Regional Park.

White-faced Ibis (Plegadis chihi) were rearing their young at the Woodland-Davis water treatment ponds, which in spite of their unprepossessing title, are our county’s top eBird hotspot and the subject of much ecological enhancement for migratory birds and other wildlife.

Cattle Egrets:

White-faced Ibis:

Black-crowned Night Herons:

Snowy Egrets:

Readers’ wildlife photos

July 3, 2026 • 8:15 am

Today’s batch of photos comes from Kevin Krebs, who’s been busy banding birds in south-central British Columbia. Kevin’s captions and IDs are indented, and, as always, you can enlarge the photos by clicking on them.

Since 2018, the Vancouver Avian Research Centre (VARC) has been involved in Bluebird Box Monitoring around the city of Merritt in south-central British Columbia.

Like almost all birds, bluebird numbers have been declining, and we’ve recruited many volunteers to maintain and monitor over 400 nest boxes.

A few weeks ago, I had the opportunity to join some compatriots checking nest boxes and banding bluebird nestlings.

Mountain Bluebird (Sialia currucoides)

Mountain Bluebirds (Sialia currucoides) are found throughout Western and Central North America. The males are a brilliant cerulean blue that is almost impossible to capture in a photograph. Imagine a small piece of the most vibrant blue sky you’ve ever seen growing wings and flying free.

They’re medium-distance migrants, with some breeding into Alaska, and wintering down into Northern Mexico. They are cavity nesters and rely heavily on old woodpecker holes, often facing significant competition. North American Breeding Bird Survey (BBS) data from 1970–2014 shows an estimated overall population decline of 21%. Recent research suggests a more complex picture, with some populations declining, some stable, and some increasing.

Next box and Mountain Bluebird eggs

On the left, an example of our nest boxes. Most are located on fenceposts, while a handful are placed on trees and stumps.

On the right, an active Mountain Bluebird nest with four eggs. Their nests are made of dried grasses beautifully woven into a cup, with a few feathers often mixed in. Their eggs are pale blue and slightly glossy.

Tree Swallow (Tachycineta bicolor) eggs and young nestlings

In addition to Mountain Bluebirds (and rarely Western Bluebirds (Sialia mexicana)), these nest boxes are frequently used by Tree Swallows (Tachycineta bicolor).

Somewhat similar to bluebird nests, Tree Swallow nests feature significantly more feathers in their construction. On the left is a nest with eight eggs — matte white and much smaller than the bluebird eggs (my fingers give a sense of scale).

On the right: a nest with six very young Tree Swallow nestlings.

Tree Swallow nestlings

Another Tree Swallow nest with at least six older nestlings. Their eyes have yet to open, so they’re probably only a few days older than those pictured above. The comically large and bright mouths are selected to draw as much attention from their parents as possible, ensuring they get fed.

Adult Tree Swallow

An adult male Tree Swallow (Tachycineta bicolor) who started out as one of those little eggs.

Northern House Wren (Troglodytes aedon)

Another bird that occasionally uses these nest boxes is the Northern House Wren (Troglodytes aedon). There’s no mistaking their nests as they have a profoundly different style of nest-building, packing nearly the entire box with dozens of twigs.

On the right, a peek into the nest revealing the feather-lined cup with seven mottled eggs.

Mountain Bluebird nestlings

This is what we were looking for: Mountain Bluebird nestlings. These birds are 9-10 days old, making them old enough to band. We can’t band them when they’re much younger as they store fat in their legs, making them too large for the metal bands we use.

Banded Mountain Bluebird nestlings

Two Mountain Bluebird nestlings in the hand.

Before anyone panics: yes, I am trained to do this and am operating under a permit! I don’t think I need to tell any of you not to try this yourself.

The bird on the left is around 12 days old, while the one on the right is approximately 15 days old — probably within a few days of leaving the nest.

Note that we use federally numbered bands, anodized with a different colour for each year. This allows us to identify adult birds to the year they were banded, even if we can’t get the band number.

Banding in progress

A photo of me in the process of banding some nestlings. The bags on my lap contain birds to be banded and that have been banded. Once they’re all completed, we carefully and quietly place them back in the nest box.

Not pictured is when I sat directly on top of an ant nest while getting ready to band…

Readers’ wildlife photos

July 2, 2026 • 8:30 am

Send in your photos if you got ’em, please!

Today’s photos continue the series taken by reader Ephraim Heller in Namibia. His captions and IDs are indented, and you can enlarge the photos by clicking on them.

Today I continue my series on a May-June 2026 visit to Namibia. I’m organizing the posts by habitat, in the order of our visits, so that you get a sense of the ecosystems. Today’s post features Damaraland, a 48,000 km² region in the northwest of the country.

Damaraland is not a formal administrative region, but a geographic and cultural designation. It is a jumble of granite kopjes, basalt plateaus, flat-topped mountains, broad gravel plains, and eroded canyon systems. Like much of Namibia, it is desert. Here is an aerial view, taken from the window of a small airplane:

Life is sparse here. A handful of ephemeral rivers cross Damaraland, cutting westward from the interior highlands to the Skeleton Coast along the Atlantic Ocean. These rivers flow above ground for only a few days per year following significant inland rainfall, but each bed sits atop an alluvial aquifer that retains water from flood events for months to years. This subsurface water sustains a few trees, shrubs, and animals along the riverbeds. Here’s another aerial view showing the path of an ephemeral river:

By far the coolest critter I found was the longleg armoured corncricket (Acanthoplus longipes), which has superpowers. It is a large, flightless katydid brandishing big, spiny legs and a heavily armored (American spelling) pronotum. When attacked, individuals autohaemorrhage, shooting a jet of toxic hemolymph from the leg joints toward attackers. I wish I had a superpower like that:

Naturally, any creature with such a magnificent superpower fluoresces under UV light:

Frankly, the rest of this post is anticlimactic. What could possibly beat a longleg armoured corncricket? Not a pretty brush jewel beetle (Julodis humeralis):

A Namib rock agama (Agama planiceps) doesn’t beat a longleg armoured corncricket, not even when it is chowing down on a bug:

One night I went on a walk to see what would fluoresce under my UV light. I found this gecko. Sure, fluorescence is cool and I wish I could do it, but does this gecko autohaemorrhage? No, it does not. The folks at iNaturalist couldn’t identify it – apparently one needs the visible spectrum to make a positive ID:

This is tentatively identified as an orange lesser-thicktail scorpion (Uroplectes planimanus), another critter with the minor UV-fluorescence superpower. Interestingly, researchers do not know why scorpions evolved fluorescence.

Now for the birds. Sadly, they have no superpowers at all. Our lodge had a water feature that was the only surface water for miles around. I spent hours watching the birds bathe and drink.

A violet-backed starling (Cinnyricinclus leucogaster). The color is produced not by pigment but by thin-film interference: stacks of hollow melanosomes in the feather barbules refract light at specific wavelengths. The male can modulate its apparent coloration through posture:

A black-fronted bulbul (Pycnonotus nigricans):

A Namaqua dove (Oena capensis):

A red-headed finch (Amadina erythrocephala):

The southern masked weaver (Ploceus velatus). Egg color varies among females, allegedly as a defense against brood parasitism by the Diederik cuckoo. Because the cuckoo cannot know egg color before entering the nest, color polymorphism in the weaver population raises the probability of parasite detection and egg ejection. Not a superpower, but cool nonetheless. I just like the bokeh in this photo:

Finally, the requisite Namibian desert night sky photos:

Readers’ wildlife photos

June 30, 2026 • 8:15 am

Please send in your good wildlife photos if you have any.

‘Today’s batch comes from UC Davis ecologist Susan Harrison, who’s been birding in Scandinavia. Her captions and IDs are indented, and you can enlarge the photos by clicking on them,.

Further Finnish Fowl

Just after I sent Jerry the recent post titled “Midsummer in the Åland Islands,” a few more scenes of waterfowl families brightened my trip to Finland.

The first three are from Lake Kallavesi, near the town of Kuopio in the heart of Finnish Lakeland.   My friend’s family has a classic lake cabin here, tiny and perfectly built, complete with flower garden, sauna, and dock.  Once my kind hosts had settled me in, I hopped in their rowboat in search of birds.

Whooper Swans (Cygnus cygnus) are Finland’s national bird and are featured on the country’s Euro coin.  With wingspans up to 9’ (2.75 m) and weighing up to 30 lb (14 kg), they are the world’s second largest waterfowl (right after their close North American relative the Trumpeter Swan, Cygnus buccinator). Even the cygnets in these photos are the size of Thanksgiving turkeys!

Whooper Swan parent and cygnets:

Arctic Loons, aka Black-throated Loons or Black-throated Divers (Gavia arctica) can often be heard making their musical calls, but are less often seen as they are shy and tend to vanish underwater.  These two adults were slowed down enough by their youngster that I managed a distant photo.

Arctic Loons:

Red-necked Grebes (Podiceps grisigena), like other grebes, carry stripey black-and-white chicks on their backs (see, for comparison, the Great Crested Grebes in the recent post). This little passenger was so tiny that I noticed it only when processing the photos.

Red-necked Grebes:

Back in Helsinki on my way home, various geese and ducks were abundant along the shore in  Kaivopuisto city park. Most enjoyable was a family of Common Mergansers, aka Goosanders (Mergus merganser), in which the young foraged for themselves under a parent’s supervision.

Common Mergansers:

Readers’ wildlife photos

June 29, 2026 • 8:15 am

Today we have photos from Jan Malik taken at Cape May, New Jersey emphasizing the bizarre horseshoe crabs, which are not crustaceans but chelicerates, more closely related to spiders and scorpions than to real crabs.  Jan’s captions and IDs are indented, and you can click on the photos to enlarge them.

People visit Cape May, NJ, in spring, mostly to see the migrating birds, but what makes the high density of animal migrants and residents possible in that area is in large part hidden in the water. Delaware Bay is home to a large population of the Atlantic horseshoe crab (Limulus polyphemus) which spawn around the time the migrating birds pass through. Horseshoe crabs’ eggs, along with crabs themselves, are an important link in the food chain that fuels the spring migration.

Early morning visitors to the Delaware Bay side of Cape May are welcomed by the ruckus made by Laughing Gulls (Leucophaeus atricilla). These birds nest locally but also depend on the crabs as a major food source:

Walking onto the beach in the morning after a high tide, a visitor will see these animals stranded helplessly on their backs, flipped by the waves:

Here is a larger female with a male still attached. All three parts of a crab are visible: the main body (prosoma) with mouth and legs, an abdomen (opisthosoma) with book gills and a tail (telson). What can be also seen here are male’s pincers, modified forelegs used to grasp the carapace of the female:

The crabs are not blind thanks to their pair of compound eyes. They also have 8 other simple eyes and ocelli distributed on top of their carapace and additional photosensors underneath and on the telson. These organs are sensitive to UV and visible light and are used to detect phases of the lunar cycle and determine when to come out of water onto the sand to mate and lay eggs:

The primary function of a telson is to help the animal steer and to right itself in water. On dry land, however, it is of little help and a flipped crab, if left on its own, usually succumbs to desiccation or is preyed upon by other animals:

 A human visitor to the beach has to decide whether to save the crab or leave it to die and let birds have their fill. In my case I usually flip them back on, giving them a chance to live another day. They are used by the medical industry to develop a test for the presence of bacteria in medical devices, which involves catching them, drawing about a quarter of their blood and then releasing them, but such a crab is then greatly weakened and mortality is high:

A Sanderling (Calidris alba) eating a horseshoe crab egg. For some evolutionary reason, these marine arthropods must leave the water in order to lay eggs. They prefer to do the laying at high tide, hence the lunar phase detection. The eggs may be then uncovered by waves and spread far and wide on the beach:

The waves may also uncover a whole cluster of eggs which is then found by shorebirds patrolling the ecotone between the sea and the land:

This is what the washed up eggs look like; eggs are 1.5 mm to 2 mm in diameter and they grow as the embryos inside them grow. This is the main fuel for the thousands of plovers, sanderlings, turnstones, red knots and others on their way toward the Arctic:

Using a macro lens, one can make out an embryo inside, complete with legs, telson and tiny eyes:

I think it was only at the beginning of this century that the significance of these “crabs” (which have a common ancestor with spiders and scorpions) for migrating birds was properly recognized and some harvesting bans were put in place in NJ and Delaware. Before, they would be harvested in excess as crab bait or just for fertilizer. This picture shows how they can be a host to barnacles and limpets:

Even though they can and do come onshore during daytime, they prefer nighttime at high tide, at new or full moon. In the Delaware Bay, many thousands of them come out then, males crowding around the females to claim the best spot and be first to fertilize eggs. They must have been doing similar things for many millions of years – earliest fossils with similar body plans date back to Paleozoic era, 450 mya, which was well before the dinosaurs. Fossils quite similar to the Atlantic crab date back 200 mya. There were many species but now only four are left, this site presents a neat diagram illustrating their evolutionary history:

Just to give a sense of scale, here is a “scrum” of crabs around human feet:

Spring migration attracts many visitors to Cape May, benefiting local businesses. I think it is just to also count humans as dependent on these “crabs”, to an extent. Note that the forefront crab has a tag from the US Fish and Wildlife Services, allowing it to track the animal:

 

 

Readers’ wildlife photos and videos

June 27, 2026 • 8:30 am

Today’s photos and videos come from reader/physicist/origami master Robert Lang in California. Robert’s captions are indented, and you can enlarge the two DUCK photographs by clicking on them.

The creek named Arroyo Seco runs from Red Box Saddle in the San Gabriel mountains down past the Jet Propulsion Laboratory (JPL), through western Altadena and Pasadena, and then on to Los Angeles, joining the Los Angeles river near downtown L.A.; the historic Pasadena Freeway (now State Highway 110) follows its channel much of the way. True to its name, it’s dry much of the year, but above JPL, it runs year-round, providing lush, verdant and shady hiking any time of year. Since the Eaton Fire resulted in the closure of much of the front range of the San Gabriels, the still open Arroyo Seco and its Gabrielino Trail have been my go-to spot for a quick, regular getaway.

It’s also been a regular source of wildlife sightings, some of which have made it to RWP (for example, here,  here, and here), but today I have an offering particularly near and dear to our host: ducklings and their momma!

This was at Brown Mountain Dam falls, which is about 3.5 miles up the trail from JPL. The dam was built in the 1940s, and quickly filled up its basin with sediment (there is now a forest of full-grown trees at the level of the top of the dam), but it provides a 40’ waterfall with a deep pool at the base and is a popular destination for bikers, hikers, and runners, especially on a hot day. Today, it had some unusual visitors: a momma mallard (Anas platyrhynchos) and her seven ducklings, who followed her up the creekbed to the pool where they then proceeded to feed, play, and shower under the falls.

Brown Mountain Dam Falls:

Momma and ducklings, crossing the pool:

And two videos:

The family crossing the falls: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TOYWkssr7y4

 

Momma and the babies showering under the falls. (The babies seem less enthusiastic about the shower than momma.)