September 21, 2025: A Flock of Flickers

Tomorrow marks the autumnal equinox, and fall migration is well underway.  I was in Wilmot for a forestry class, and from one open meadow we watched a kettle of a dozen or more Broad-Winged Hawks fly over us using the warm air from the field to gain altitude on the rising thermals.  There was also a Red-tailed Hawk mixed in with them.  Another migrating species seen this week was the Northern Flicker.

Northern Flicker

There was a flock of a least a dozen birds feeding madly on some type of insect in the gravel road. 

Picking insects from the road.

They were borrowing a trick from crows which pull up chunks of sod in lawns to find grubs; the flickers were turning over small stones to find their prey.

Stones uprooted in search of insects.

That first photo was a male flicker, identified by the black "mustache" on its face.  The female is lacking that mark.

Female Flicker.

Both have a black chest mark and a red chevron on the back of their head; the eastern version, described as the "yellow-shafted" group, has yellow wing feathers, the edges of which can be seen in the above photo and the following photo.  In flight, a conspicuous white spot is visible from behind.  

Note the red chevron and yellow wing edges.

Either way, It's a handsome bird.

The Lakes Region is right at the southern limit of its breeding range (which is likely moving northward now) so this flock was probably traveling together on their way south, which for some flickers may be as near as southern New Hampshire.

This was another week of totally rain-free, warm, sunny days.  I spent one afternoon just drifting in a couple of secluded marshes watching birds and dragonflies.  The dragonflies provided the best entertainment as dozens of them darted over the water and vegetation, defending their own territory and testing the defenses of their neighbors.  Only for a moment would one hover over its claim before an intruder had to be sent away, but I was able to capture a few of them.

The next day a pretty Autumn Meadowhawk posed on a railing for me.

Male Autumn Meadowhawk

The bright red abdomen indicates it's a mature male.  Earlier I had seen a duller meadowhawk which was probably a female, or perhaps an immature male.

Floating peacefully in the late afternoon September sun, reflecting on the beauty of life, one has time to discover the smaller aspects of the world that usually go unnoticed.  On this day, low in my kayak, small white specs on fading green lily pads caught my eye.

I thought they were eggs of some sort.  But looking closely, I saw small spikes sticking out from some of them - they looked like legs.  So I plucked one of the pads and brought it home for further study. 

A macrophotograph revealed more detail.

A little digging brought me to conclude these are the shed exoskeletons of a small insect that hatched from an egg in the water into a larval stage, and when ready, climbed onto a lily pad to shed its shell and fly away as a winged insect.  My best guess is a species of midge in the family Chironomidae, which are small non-biting insects.  One study of New Hampshire lakes by Donna Frances identified 65 species of midges.  [Ref:  Distribution of Midge Remains (Diptera: Chironomidae) in Surficial Lake Sediments in New England]

I'm afraid I have to close this week on a sad note.  Rhys Bowen passed away suddenly this week.  Many readers of this journal knew Rhys from his many years of work with the Lakes Region Conservation Trust, most recently as Chair of the Board of Trustees.  In fact, the day before he passed, Rhys was with a team evaluating a property as a possible conservation opportunity.  Rhys was an expert birder; he led guided bird walks for the LRCT, and was one of my go-to experts for bird advice, whether on a bird identification, or for finding good birding spots from South Carolina to Alaska.  When I corrected a birding ID on this blog, it was usually Rhys that gently noted I may have made an error.  

Rhys was a good friend who gave so much to me and so many others in our community.  I am among the many who will miss him greatly.