Photo by Chris Bosak
A Redhead swims alongside a Ring-necked Duck in Darien in March 2014.
It’s always good to know where a little open water exists.
Whether the water doesn’t freeze during the winter because of a dam, waterfall, fountain or otherwise, these spots are great for duck watching on even the coldest of days. In fact, the coldest days may be the best time to visit these spots, as very little open water exists elsewhere, and the ducks concentrate in these little oases.
I find it interesting when different species of ducks that usually are not found together congregate in these pools of open water. I’ve seen huge rafts of scaup on Long Island Sound and some large lakes throughout the Northeast. The ducks usually stick with their own kind on these large bodies of water. But when a freeze forces them to find open water, it is not uncommon to see scaups swimming among goldeneyes, buffleheads and redheads.
Below is the press release (without edits or opinion from me) for the 2025 U.S. State of the Birds report. Commentary will come in a later post. …
The release of the 2025 U.S. State of the Birds report was announced today (Thursday, March 13, 2025) at the 90th annual North American Wildlife and Natural Resources Conference in Louisville, Kentucky. The report, produced by a coalition of leading science and conservation organizations, reveals continued widespread declines in American bird populations across all mainland and marine habitats, with 229 species requiring urgent conservation action. The report comes five years after the landmark 2019 study that documented the loss of 3 billion birds in North America over 50 years.
Key findings from the new report show that more than one-third of U.S. bird species are of high or moderate conservation concern, including 112 Tipping Point species that have lost more than 50% of their populations in the last 50 years. That includes 42 red-alert species facing perilously low populations, such as Allen’s Hummingbird, Tricolored Blackbird, and Saltmarsh Sparrow—birds that are at risk without immediate intervention.
Photo by Chris Bosak
A horned lark at a Connecticut beach, February 2025.
I came across these horned larks during a recent walk along a beach in southern Connecticut the other week. Larks and buntings are often seen during the winter along the Long Island Sound coast. I’m yet to get a quality photo of one with its “horns” raised. Until then, enjoy these photos.
Photo by Chris Bosak
A cedar waxwing eats border privet berries in New England, February 2025.
Blue jays give and blue jays take away.
During a walk in the woods the other day, I heard a bunch of blue jays squawking up a storm. It was too loud and frantic to be simple alarm calls for a potential threat. This threat had to be real. The calls and squawks reached a fever pitch as more and more blue jays appeared onto the scene from all directions.
I knew it had to be a hawk or owl that had the jays all riled up. I just had to find it.
After a minute or two of peering into the thick hemlock branches, I noticed a large bird being harassed. The blue jays may have been smaller, but it was at least 15 to 1 in their favor. From my angle, the larger bird was still well hidden. I took a few steps to change my perspective, and my suspicions were confirmed that it was a barred owl.
Photo by Chris Bosak
Black-capped chickadee perches on an icy branch, February 2025.
Every so often in New England, everything is covered in ice. I’m not talking about lakes and rivers freezing or icicles dangling from the edge of roofs. I’m talking about when literally everything outside is covered in ice. Every branch, every leaf, every pine needle, every blade of grass is sheathed in its own covering of ice.
It doesn’t happen often. Sometimes it’s once or twice a winter. Sometimes it’s once every couple of years. The conditions have to be just right.
The other week, the conditions were just right. A near-freezing rain fell hard in the evening, and, when the temperature dropped just a bit after the sun went down, it turned into freezing rain. By morning, everything was ice, including a slick covering on the remaining snow.
Photo by Chris Bosak
A red-winged blackbird rests on a perch near a feeder in New England, February 23, 2025.
This guy showed up at my feeder a few days ago, marking the first time I’ve seen a red-winged blackbird at my feeder in many years. Today, during a walk, I saw dozens and dozens of male red-winged blackbirds, mostly flying overhead. Males show up a few weeks before females to scout out territories. The familiar sounds of red-winged blackbirds are back. The spring migration is under way.
Photo by Chris Bosak
Male long-tailed ducks on Long Island Sound, February 2025.
You have to mix it up every once in a while. This goes for most things in life, but certainly for birdwatching.
The other day, I pulled into the parking lot of the state park where I do the majority of my walking and birding. I never got out of the car this time. I had a rare several-hour block to myself, and, as I pondered my options, the siren song of water kept calling me.
While I love walking at my local patch, and I know just where to look and what I might find, I was craving something different on this day. My patch is mostly woods with a few fields, like much of New England. It does have a large pond, but it has been frozen solid since December.
I backed out of the parking lot and headed to a reservoir a relatively short distance away. I knew at least some of the water would be unfrozen and undoubtedly holding some ducks. Open freshwater has been hard to come by this winter.
The reservoir, as it turned out, was mostly frozen as well. A small area near the dam was open, and that’s it. This oasis of unfrozen water was, however, a gathering place for a lot of waterfowl. Canada geese were, by far, the dominant species, along with mallards and mute swans. There were also a few buffleheads and ring-necked ducks, along with a lone male wood duck in his splendid breeding plumage. It had been a while since I had seen a wood duck, so that was the highlight of my visit to the reservoir.
Since I had gone that far already and still had time to spare, I figured I’d keep going and pay a visit to Long Island Sound. It wasn’t terribly far and, even though it’s almost always cold and windy in the winter, I knew a lot of ducks and other fowl would be there.
I arrived at the Connecticut state park, and Long Island Sound did not disappoint. I immediately spotted a huge raft of greater scaup and a few small groups of common goldeneye. The odd common loon popped up here and there as well. Common loons are a blend of dull whites and grays in their winter plumage, unlike their iconic black-and-white spotted summer plumage.
Canada geese were there in large numbers, of course, but a massive flock of brant flew past as well. There were also smaller groups of brant hugging the shoreline.
The highlight for me was the long-tailed ducks. Formerly called oldsquaw, long-tailed ducks are another species that look completely different in the winter than in the summer. Not that I’ve ever seen a long-tailed duck in the summer, as they breed well north of New England, but I’ve seen pictures. The male’s winter plumage is a mix of bright white, black and different shades of brown. The bill is dark with a pink patch in the middle. The female’s plumage is more modest with white and brown.
Many of the long-tailed ducks were relatively close to the shore, offering decent photo opportunities. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a great day for photos as it was very gray. Of course, gray can be good for photography as it eliminates harsh shadows, but this was a dull, dark, color-robbing gray. I did my best with the long-tailed ducks nonetheless.
The inland part of the park was good too, with Savannah sparrows, a northern harrier, fox sparrows and a large group of American tree sparrows.
The next day, I was right back at my patch enjoying a walk in the woods. I guess I needed a little change of pace, if only for one day.
The Atlantic coast is not terribly far for a day trip, and Long Island Sound is not that much farther. If the sea is calling your name and you have the time, pack up and go. Let me know what you see.
Birds of New England.com 