Photo by Chris Bosak – A dark-eyed junco eats goldenrod seeds at Huntington State Park in Redding, Connecticut, November 2025.
Here are a few more photos of my experience with juncos in the goldenrod field recently. See the last “For the Birds” column for the whole story. On a side note, now you know what goldenrod looks like after the yellow flowers die off.
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Photo by Chris Bosak
Pine siskins visit a feeder in Danbury, Connecticut, March 2019.
My favorite part of winter birdwatching has always been looking for waterfowl on whatever open water remains. Searching for bald eagles in those same areas has become another favorite of mine as the population of our national bird soars, and we see them more frequently.
Winter is also arguably the best time to watch feeders in the yard, although one can easily make a case for spring being the best time when the grosbeaks, buntings and other surprises arrive. Watching the feeders in winter, particularly before a storm, is a constant treat of chickadees, titmice, nuthatches, woodpeckers, cardinals, blue jays, juncos and white-throated sparrows.
In my opinion, an underrated part of winter birding is the finch irruption, or lack thereof, depending on the year. Birds such as siskins, redpolls, purple finches, crossbills, pine grosbeaks and evening grosbeaks sometimes irrupt into our region as food supply dictates. Other birds such as red-breasted nuthatches are also lumped into the category of unpredictable winter bird visitors.
Photo by Chris Bosak
A male scarlet tanager in the fall.
It seems like just yesterday we were welcoming back the warblers and other songbirds during spring migration and here we are at fall migration already.
Many of the birds we saw in the spring heading north will look the same on their southward journey. Many others, however, will look different.
Some, like male scarlet tanagers, will bear little resemblance to what they looked like in the spring. When we saw them in May and June, they were the most brightly colored birds in the woods. A sighting always yielded a gasp of excitement as we wondered how a bird in New England could be so brilliant. After the breeding season, however, they molted and are now dull yellow with less shiny black wings. They are still awesome-looking birds but not the striking birds they were in the spring.
In addition to many adult birds molting, the fall migration includes first-year birds that haven’t attained familiar adult plumage yet. They often resemble females or a mix of male and female plumage.
Photo by Chris Bosak
Clapper rail in Milford, Connecticut, summer 2025.
I’ve written about a lot of different types of birds over the last 30 years. There are some birds I’ve likely written about hundreds of times, and some only a handful of times.
If I searched my “For the Birds” folder for chickadee, robin or woodpecker, I’d get hundreds of hits. If I searched for vireo or flycatcher, I’d get far fewer hits, but still a decent amount.
There’s one bird family found in New England I’m not sure I’ve ever written about or even mentioned within a column. It’s the rail family. Rails are small to medium-sized chicken-like birds of the marshes. The reasons I haven’t written about them before are fairly obvious: rails are not very common, live in a habitat that is difficult for humans to traverse and are extremely secretive.
New England has a few members of the rail family. Virginia rail is the most common and the one most likely to be seen in New Hampshire. Sora is the other most likely candidate in New Hampshire. Clapper rails may be found along the coastal regions of New England.
There are also yellow rails, black rails and king rails found in New England, but they are rarely seen. Virginia rail is the best bet, but even that is a chore.
Photo by Chris Bosak
Piping plover, Milford, Connecticut, summer 2025.
I’ve looked for birds in New England from top to bottom this month. At the beginning of July, I drove to Pittsburg, NH, near the Canadian border, and last week, I visited a beach/nature preserve on Long Island Sound in southern Connecticut.
Yes, technically, northern Maine would be top of New England, but let’s not split hairs here.
It was quite a contrast in habitat and birdlife between the two points, from the boreal forest up north to the marsh and shoreline down south.
Photo by Chris Bosak – A young male rose-breasted grosbeak visits a feeder in New England, summer 2025. Note the brown feathers on the wings.
I was heading to my car at work when four or five relatively large birds emerged on the ground from around the corner of a building. I didn’t immediately recognize them, as their sudden appearance surprised me and my mind was elsewhere.
I took a few more steps and quickly realized what they were: baby turkeys. By that time, I had progressed enough that the mother turkey was now visible and only a few yards away. Will she attack like a mute swan or Canada goose might? Never get between a mother and her babies, the saying goes. I wasn’t actually between them, but I was certainly close enough to some of the babies that I could be considered a threat.
Photo by Chris Bosak
American oystercatcher, Milford, Connecticut, summer 2025.
They aren’t particularly rare, especially if you know where to look, but American oystercatchers are always a thrill to see. I saw these beauties during a short birdwalk at Connecticut Audubon Society Coastal Center at Milford Point the other day. One of the coolest looking birds in New England, if you ask me. Check out the youngster below.
Photo by Chris Bosak
American oystercatcher, Milford, Connecticut, summer 2025.Photo by Chris Bosak
American oystercatcher chick, Milford, Connecticut, summer 2025.
Photo by Chris Bosak
Clapper rail in Milford, Connecticut, summer 2025.
Rails are shy birds of the marshlands. Clapper rails are usually heard before they are seen, if they are seen at all. I stood in the muck at low tide for several minutes, and finally, this clapper rail decided to come out of the vegetation and walk along the mud for a few seconds. Several rails were calling back and forth in the marsh.
Photo by Chris Bosak
Clapper rail in Milford, Connecticut, summer 2025.Photo by Chris Bosak
Clapper rail in Milford, Connecticut, summer 2025.
Photo by Chris Bosak
A pair of loons at Second Connecticut Lake in Pittsburg, NH, June 2025.
It had been several years since I had been to Pittsburg, NH, a place I used to visit three times a year or more back in the day.
My visits gradually became more infrequent as I got older, gained work and family responsibilities and grew less inclined to make the long drive. Besides, moose sightings had become increasingly rare up there, while they used to be a sure thing. Moose had always been the main attraction for me and many others who visit there.
Even so, the area has retained a special place in my heart, and I often long to be there. I just wish I could teleport there with my truck, canoe and camping equipment.