For the Birds: Big animals highlight trip out west

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Photo by Chris Bosak
Bull moose in Grand Teton National Park, fall 2026.

If the trip took place somewhere in New England, I would get a year’s worth of columns out. But, since the trip took place far from New England, I’ll jam it all into one column.

I took a trip early this fall to Montana, Grand Teton National Park and Yellowstone National Park. The goal was to see and photograph moose, elk, bison, pronghorn and bighorn sheep. I was fairly confident about getting elk, bison and pronghorn. My recent lack of luck finding moose in New England made me uncertain about seeing moose out there. I also thought bighorn sheep may be a stretch.

At the end of the trip, I got better moose photos than I ever thought I would, many solid elk photos, a few bison photos but far less than I had thought, a few pronghorn and no bighorn sheep.

The moose photos, of course, were the most exhilarating. I met a group of professional wildlife photographers, and they allowed me to tag along to their secret moose locations. At one point, we watched a bull moose and two cow moose bedded down for more than two hours. We kept a safe and respectable distance away and did not alter the animals’ behavior.

Prior to meeting the professionals, my photo opportunities had been limited to subjects far away and sharing the space with 100 or more other people who had pulled off to the side of the road to see what people were looking at. It was after the summer season, but the parks were still crowded. The campgrounds were full (I had made reservations ahead of time), and the parking lots for popular hikes were overflowing to the point of people parking on the side of the road for nearly a mile in each direction.

Keeping up with the professional photographers was not easy as we hit the woods well before first light, crossed swift-moving streams, bushwhacked through the brush and tried to find each other by following a GPS pin on our phones. The scout of the group was in the woods at 4:30 a.m. with infrared binoculars. It was worth it though. One morning, we watched three cows, three calves and one bull walking in a field. Bulls are notorious for fighting during the rut (fall breeding season), but we saw two cows with their calves cross paths and square off. The altercation lasted about two seconds and consisted of each cow raising onto their hind legs, kind of like when a horse rears, and moving on their way.

It was great to be among moose again. The New England moose population has taken a serious hit from winter ticks and brainworm and they are becoming more difficult to find. For me anyway, a trip to northern New England in the late 1990s would yield a dozen or more moose sightings. Now, it’s been years since I’ve seen a single moose on my trips up north.

The other wildlife highlights in Grand Teton were a coyote hunting in a field and a grizzly bear mother and cub. The bear sighting was nice, of course, but park rangers kept visitors quite a distance away. There was also a huge crowd of people clamoring for a peek.

Then it was northward into Yellowstone on my way to Mammoth with a quick stop to see Old Faithful do its thing. It was around Old Faithful where I had my only bison sightings. I thought I’d see great herds of bison and eventually get tired of seeing them, but I saw only about five lone bulls in total. I did get one photo of a bison with the hot springs near Old Faithful steaming in the background.

Mammoth Campground, on the other hand, was filled with elk. One bull lorded over his harem, which consisted of 30 or more cows and calves. The cows and calves walked among the campground as if it were the most normal thing in the world. They had no fear of humans and were just part of the landscape. At one point, I sat at the picnic table at my site and six elk walked around me like I wasn’t even there. In the evening, the bull started bugling, and everyone (including me) grabbed their cameras and rushed toward the noise.

I saw several pronghorns along the side of the highways, particularly on the drive from Montana to Idaho. Pronghorns are commonly called pronghorn antelope, but they are not officially antelope and are their own distinct species. They are the fastest land animal in North America, reaching speeds of up to 60 miles per hour. They also look completely different than any other animal in the U.S. and look as if they belong on the African savanna instead.

Oh yeah. There were some birds to be seen as well. Among the notable birds were bald eagles, mountain bluebirds, tons of yellow-rumped warblers, yellow-headed blackbirds, redheads, American coots, horned grebes, sandhill cranes, white pelicans, and magpies–lots and lots of magpies.

I could go on and on, of course, but I like to keep this column focused on New England as much as possible. Feel free to visit my other posts on this site for more photos of the trip.

Comparing antlers from the deer family (with a few horns too)

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Photo by Chris Bosak
Bull moose in Grand Teton National Park, fall 2026.

Here’s a compilation of the deer family (moose, elk, mule deer) photos I got during my recent trip out west (Montana, Grand Teton, Yellowstone). It was late September, so the antlers were fully grown and velvet-free. It’s interesting to see the difference between the species–and antlers are always a source of fascination.

At the end of this post, there are two animals with horns, not antlers. Mammals with horns keep their horns permanently. Mammals with antlers shed them every year (late fall or winter) and regrow them each year.

MOOSE

Photo by Chris Bosak
Bull moose in Grand Teton National Park, fall 2026.
Photo by Chris Bosak
Bull moose in Grand Teton National Park, fall 2026.

ELK

Photo by Chris Bosak
Bull elk in Yellowstone National Park, fall 2026.
Photo by Chris Bosak
Bull elk in Yellowstone National Park, fall 2026.

MULE DEER

Mule deer, Grand Teton National Park, fall 2026.

PRONGHORN (horns, not antlers)

Photo by Chris Bosak
Pronghorn in Idaho, fall 2026.

BISON (horns, not antlers)

Photo by Chris Bosak
Bison in Yellowstone National Park, fall 2026.

A few birds I saw out west

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Photo by Chris Bosak
Great-horned owl in Grand Teton National Park, fall 2026.

I neglected to include the birds I saw during my recent trip out west in my last post. So, here they are. I was focused on the large mammals, so I didn’t get many photos of birds. The magpies were a highlight. They were all over downtown Bozeman, Montana, and very brave around my campground in Yellowstone. Kind of like the crows we have in New England.

Photo by Chris Bosak
Mountain bluebird in Grand Teton National Park, fall 2026.
Photo by Chris Bosak
Magpie in Yellowstone National Park, fall 2026.
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For the Birds: Veery and wood thrush share the title

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Photo by Chris Bosak
A veery stakes out territory in New England, spring 2025.
Photo by Chris Bosak
A wood thrush sings from a branch in New England.

I wrote back in early July that the veery had taken the lead as the Bird of Summer, my very unofficial designation that goes to the bird that I see most frequently, or at least more frequently than usual.

With summer now over, I can officially—or unofficially—name the Bird of Summer. The veery and wood thrush share the distinction. Early in the summer, I saw and heard veeries on every walk. In the middle of summer and into late summer, it was the wood thrush that stood out more. I didn’t always find the often-secretive bird, but I certainly heard the unmistakable flute-like song way more often than I usually do.

It was encouraging to hear the wood thrush so often, as they are one of the many birds that have experienced a sharp population decline in recent decades.

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More wildlife from out west

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Photo by Chris Bosak
Bison in Yellowstone National Park, fall 2026.

Here are a few animals I saw out west that aren’t moose or elk. The U.S. is a beautiful place.

Photo by Chris Bosak
First-year grizzly bear in Grand Teton National Park, fall 2026.
Photo by Chris Bosak
Coyote in Grand Teton National Park, fall 2026.
Photo by Chris Bosak
Pronghorn in Idaho, fall 2026.

More elk photos than you asked for

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Photo by Chris Bosak
Bull elk in Yellowstone National Park, fall 2026.

After three days in Grand Teton, I drove north to Mammoth Campground in Yellowstone. The resident elk herd did not disappoint with the bull bugling and cows and calves making themselves at home among the tents, RVs, picnic tables, and campers. It was definitely worth the trip to Yellowstone.

Photo by Chris Bosak
Bull elk in Yellowstone National Park, fall 2026.
Photo by Chris Bosak
Elk in Yellowstone National Park, fall 2026.
Photo by Chris Bosak
Calf elk nursing in Yellowstone National Park, fall 2026.
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A ton more moose photos from Grand Teton

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Photo by Chris Bosak
Bull moose in Grand Teton National Park, fall 2026.

Today, I’ll share a bunch more moose photos from Grand Teton National Park. Tomorrow (or sometime this week), I’ll share a slew of elk photos from Yellowstone National Park. Finally, I’ll post many, many other photos of the other animals (including birds) I saw on my recent trip out west.

Photo by Chris Bosak
Bull moose in Grand Teton National Park, fall 2026.
Photo by Chris Bosak
Cow moose in Grand Teton National Park, fall 2026.
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A few moose photos from Grand Teton

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Photo by Chris Bosak – Moose in Grand Teton National Park.

I’ll do a longer post soon, but here are a few moose photos from a recent trip I took to Grand Teton and Yellowstone. Yes, the parks are outside of New England (“extralimital” in birdwatcher speak), but why not share anyway. The moose were in Grand Teton.

Photo by Chris Bosak – Moose in Grand Teton National Park.
Photo by Chris Bosak – Moose in Grand Teton National Park.

For the Birds: Spotted lanternflies coming to your town next?

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Photo by Chris Bosak
Author Chris Bosak holds a spotted lanternfly in southern New England, summer 2026.

NOTE: This column was originally written for newspapers in New Hampshire, which has not yet been subjected to an invasion of these insects.

Coming to a town near you? Let’s hope not.

So far, the middle and northern parts of New England have largely been spared of the spotted lanternfly. Let’s hope that continues, but I have a feeling those dastardly insects may work their way up into at least the middle of New England.

My reasoning is as follows:

In the summer and fall of 2023, my son played for the St. Frances Academy high school football team in Baltimore, Maryland. I traveled back and forth from Maryland about a dozen times.

One particular beautiful early fall day in downtown Baltimore, I walked with friends to check out some sites and find a good place to eat. Out of nowhere, something bapped me right in the forehead. What the heck was that? 

The offender lay at my feet. I can’t remember if it was stunned or dead. Either way, it was a spotted lanternfly. If you are not familiar with spotted lanternflies, they are invasive insects native to Asia. They feed on the sap of a wide variety of plants, causing severe agricultural and ecological damage. They are now pervasive in ….

They are not flies, despite their name, and they are not moths, despite their resemblance. Rather, they are a planthopper-type of insect.

The bap to the forehead knocked some awareness into me, and I suddenly realized those things were all over the place. On the sidewalks, on the buildings, on the trees. Everywhere.

Baltimore was infested with them. I didn’t know much about the species at the time, but I recall that I had at least heard of them and knew they were not desirable. I also recalled that the guidance at the time was to swash them on sight.

Squashing them proved to be more difficult than I would have thought. They are surprisingly quick. My stomping foot often came up empty as the insects utilized their spring-loaded back legs to propel themselves and fly or glide to safety.

Fast forward three years, and the spotted lanternfly is now infesting parts of southern New England, namely Connecticut, Rhode Island, and Massachusetts. I was in southern Connecticut recently and spotted lanternflies were numerous. It didn’t reach the infestation levels I had observed in Baltimore, but even a short walk yielded several sightings. A glance out the window more often than not resulted in at least one sighting.

New Hampshire would be next if the lanternfly maintains its northward movement. In fact, officials in New Hampshire recorded its first sighting last month in Salem. From what I could find and as of this writing, there haven’t been any confirmed sightings in Vermont.

Are the Twin States next? I guess we’ll see in the years to come. Perhaps even next year.

This may be an unpopular opinion, but spotted lanternflies would be pretty cool to have around if they were native and beneficial instead of invasive and destructive. Adult lanternflies are about an inch long (fairly large compared to most insects in New England) with pinkish or gray wings covered in black spots. When in flight, the bright red hindwings (also adorned with black dots) offer a flash of color.

In the life stages leading up to adulthood, lanternflies are black with white spots and then red and black with white spots.

Birds have helped control the invasion somewhat. From what I’ve read, birds such as cardinals, blue jays, catbirds, and woodpeckers have been seen preying upon them. Interestingly, chickens seem to love them. Although spotted lanternflies damage a variety of trees and shrubs, their preferred food source is tree of heaven, another invasive native of Asia. This may make the insects bitter and undesirable to some predators.

Here’s hoping the northward march of the spotted lanternfly stops in southern New England. It will be an interesting story to follow in the years ahead.

If you find a spotted lanternfly, report the sighting at www.nhbugs.org/reporting-form.

For the Birds: Nothing like finding migrating American oystercatchers

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Photo by Chris Bosak
American oystercatcher, summer in New England.

A few weeks ago, I previewed the fall hawk watch season and encouraged anyone interested in seeing that spectacle to head to the nearest hawk watch site.

Mid-September is the prime time for hawk watches, so get out there now if you can.

There is a lot more to fall birdwatching than hawk watches, of course. Songbirds are heading south in large numbers too. Presumably, there are many more songbirds passing through New England in the fall than in the spring with all the first-year birds making their initial southward journey.

With all the excitement around hawks and songbirds, it’s easy to forget about the shorebird migration, which can be equally as fun. Shorebirds are an often underrated category of birds and it’s understandable considering most people do not live near the coast. Sure, certain shorebirds may be found along the edges of lakes, ponds and rivers, but they are usually found as individuals or pairs. On the other hand, the coasts of the ocean and Long Island Sound may hold flocks of dozens or even hundreds of shorebirds. 

I visit from time to time a preserve on Long Island Sound in southern New England. American oystercatchers, among other birds, nest there and may be seen in pairs in the spring and summer. If a pair is successful in raising young, then, of course, the family unit will swell to three or four birds.

If a visit is timed right during fall migration, however, a dozen or more oystercatchers may be seen together on the shore poking around for food to fuel their southern migration. 

Such was the case the other day when my friend Wayne and I visited the preserve. We hadn’t had a lot of luck on our previous walks in the woods looking for songbirds, but the trip to the shore more than made up for the previous birdless walks. 

The walk along the shore got off to a slow start as well. We had walked about 15 minutes before we saw our first bird, a semipalmated plover. They are small shorebirds that could easily be mistaken for a killdeer. 

As it turns out, there were three plovers foraging together, not a single bird. That happens often when looking for shorebirds. What starts out as a sighting of one bird quickly turns into several birds as they eventually all come into view as they move among the rocks, shells and sand.

Finally, as we neared the end of the out-and-back walk, we spotted the oystercatchers. It started as a lone bird flying across the scene, uttering its high-pitched, repetitive call. We followed that bird until it landed on the mudflats. Once our eyes were trained on the shallow pool, one of several pools left over from high tide, we saw the rest of the oystercatchers. There were a dozen or more of the flashy, large shorebirds.

American oystercatchers have black heads and chests, brown backs and wings, and white underparts. The interesting parts of the oystercatcher are the eyes and bill. They have yellow eyes with a black middle and noticeable red eyering. The bills are long, sturdy and bright orange. To see a dozen or more together is a magical sight. 

As we walked along the mudflats toward the oystercatchers, I was again reminded how well some shorebirds blend in with their environment. At one point, I got to within about five feet of a least sandpiper before it quickly scurried away from me. If it hadn’t moved, I probably would have walked right past it. Then, of course, five or six more least sandpipers suddenly appeared, seemingly out of nowhere.

Eventually, I got close enough to photograph the oystercatchers. The first couple photos I got were of banded birds with two coded rings around each leg. The others were not banded. A lone black-bellied plover joined the oystercatchers on the hunt, while a few snowy egrets worked the shoreline a few yards away.

American oystercatchers are one of those birds I never tire of seeing and, no matter how many times I’ve seen them before, it’s always like I’m seeing them for the first time. Loons evoke a similar emotion. To catch them during migration in large numbers is that much better.