In the northeastern United States, October typically features some the greatest diversity and most impressive numbers of the entire fall migration season. This is a wonderful time of year to get out and explore the natural world, provided one can find the time to do so. A densely packed calendar of celebrations and social events kept me plenty busy over the course of this month, but I still managed to collect an impressive grab bag of autumnal goodies in recent weeks. Indeed, some of those scheduled obligations turned out to provide their own unexpected viewing opportunities for wildlife or natural phenomena. From my own backyard to the opposite corner of the country, from the forest floor to the skies above, there was no shortage of surprises to be enjoyed this October.Â
The first few days of the month offered multiple chances for me to connect with a number of migrants that I still needed for my year list. A truncated work week was highlighted by an afternoon jaunt to Central Park, which delivered my overdue first White-eyed Vireo for 2024. Over the long weekend, I made multiple forays to the southern reaches of Queens, where I was able to pick up Common Gallinule at Baisley Pond Park, Nelson’s Sparrow at Big Egg Marsh, and American Golden-Plover at Jamaica Bay’s East Pond. The latter location also hosted a pair of noteworthy ongoing rarities in the form of American Avocet and American White Pelican, as well as a delightful array of other waterbirds. My patch birding efforts at Randall’s Island during this time period were were equally pleasant, featuring impressive squadrons of Chimney Swifts migrating over the ballfields at dawn and a decent spread of lingering warblers and newly arrived sparrows. Knowing that any given encounter with a southbound bird could be the last observation of that species for several months to come is always a bit bittersweet, but that reality is an inextricable component of the seasonal cycle that makes birding such a compelling pastime.
In keeping with 2024’s fantastic track record for celestial spectacles, October proved to be a singularly productive month for observing noteworthy astronomical events. News of a major Earth-directed solar flare and the potential for a strong geomagnetic storm had all eyes turned towards the northern skies on October 10th, hoping for a repeat of May’s widespread aurora borealis show. Fortuitously, the bar trivia challenge that my friends and I attended that evening happened to be held outdoors on the back patio of our local beer hall. Less than an hour after sunset, we were stunned to see a vibrant purple hue shining through the haze of the ambient artificial lights: a faintly discernible but unmistakable aurora, right in the heart of New York City! Before turning in for the night a few hours later, I made my way up to the roof of my building for an encore performance, noting subtly glowing curtains of red and green shimmering across the distant horizon. The next week, my beloved rooftop served as the stage for yet another wonder of the heavens, as the comet Tsuchinshan-ATLAS briefly peeked through a break in the clouds over the Manhattan skyline. When I first moved into my apartment, I never would have dreamed that I would witness both the northern lights and a new bird for New York State from this address within a few weeks of each other, but this world we inhabit is full of wonders!
October’s next adventure was made possible by a long-awaited wedding. Jacqi and I were honored to attend the marriage of my friends Nicole and Eric in Tucson, and we elected to delay our flight home by an extra day so we could make the most of our time in Arizona. Our extended weekend in the desert served as a marvelous mini-vacation, highlighted by a number of reunions with old pals, both human and otherwise. The ceremony itself was positively lovely, and I was grateful for the opportunity to party with fellow Cornellians as only alumni of the Big Red Marching Band know how. The grounds of the lodge at Ventana Canyon turned out to be home to a number of southwestern avian icons, including Phainopepla, Curve-billed Thrasher, and Cactus Wren. Jacqi was positively thrilled to finally make the acquaintance of the celebrated Greater Roadrunner, and we enjoyed repeated close encounters with these charismatic ground-cuckoos as we they scrounged for morsels around the periphery of the restaurant’s outdoor seating area. My wife checked off yet another first with a trip to Saguaro National Park, and the hillside forests of towering cacti were every bit as magnificent and otherworldly as I remembered them to be. An impromptu side quest to Madera Canyon proved to be well-worth the drive, and we spent most of the afternoon relaxing in the shade and watching the feeders at the Santa Rita Lodge. It had been more than half a decade since my last visit to the famous sky islands of the Grand Canyon State, and I was delighted to reconnect with local specialty species like Mexican Jay, Bridled Titmouse, and Hepatic Tanager. Jacqi was particularly taken with the diversity of cooperative hummingbirds, including Broad-billed, Rivoli’s, Black-chinned, Anna’s, Rufous, Broad-tailed, and Calliope. We managed to squeeze quite a bit of excitement into a few short days, and although it was difficult to leave it helped knowing that we will be returning to Arizona for my brother’s wedding next spring!
The following weekend saw us back out on Long Island, joining my entire family for back-to-back celebrations of my father’s 60th birthday and my soon-to-be sister-in-law’s bridal shower. I managed to slip away for a few brief expeditions in between all the merriment, including a pleasant morning of fall birding along the barrier island at Jones Beach. Scarce migrants like Red-headed Woodpecker and Dickcissel headlined the outing, but perhaps the biggest surprise of the day was a massive flock of Common Ravens moving along the shore, totaling no less than 33 individuals in all! This was by far the largest congregation of these impressive corvids that I have ever observed in one place, a far cry from the wayward singles and prospecting breeding pairs that were considered genuine rarities in this corner of New York State just over a decade ago. It is nothing short of incredible how many changes in the natural world I have personally witnessed, for better and for worse, over the course of my relatively brief lifetime. The triumphant return of the raven to NYC and its surrounding neighborhoods is certainly one of the more positive examples of such shifts, underscoring the importance of citizen science initiatives that monitor and document how the environment around us evolves.
I rarely go out of my way to visit Staten Island, but I was unable to resist making a journey to check in on one of the more cooperative vagrants so far this season, a young Wood Stork hanging out at North Mount Loretto State Forest. 2024 has proven to be an exceptional year for extralimital records of this southerly species, with sightings of the towering, bald-headed birds cropping up all over the northeast since late summer. New York has documented individuals, and sometimes small flocks, at half a dozen sites between August and October, which is especially impressive considering there are only about a dozen accepted prior occurrences of Wood Storks in the entire state. Following the helpful directions shared by local birders, I quickly found the stork resting on the shoreline of a swampy pool right along the trail. Its contrasting monochrome plumage, scythe-like bill, and somewhat ghoulish countenance added up to an oddly fitting aesthetic for the late October season, matching the autumnal vibe of its surroundings despite being many miles from the subtropical wetlands it calls home. Satisfied with the fruits of my excursion to the City’s most isolated borough, I bid the stork farewell and made my way back to the car, with the local resident Bald Eagle pair overseeing my departure as I headed out to face the traffic on the road back to Nassau.
While migratory birds may be the most high profile wildlife of note during the fall season, there are plenty of other exciting critters to be found at this time of year if one knows where to look. My Long Island weekend saw me making good on a promise I made to myself several months back, putting in some intentional effort to seek out our one and only species of salamander that breeds in autumn rather than in spring. While most of its kin deposit their eggs in vernal pools freshly filled by snowmelt and late winter rains, the Marbled Salamander instead makes its annual pilgrimage to these ephemeral wetlands when they are still bone dry. Rather than abandon their clutch, females establish a nest under leaf litter, logs, or other protective debris and remain with the eggs for several weeks, guarding their offspring until the pool basin floods and the larvae hatch out. Though I had encountered my lifer Marbled upstate in late May, I was hoping to complete my Region 10 salamander life list with a breeding season observation of this secretive species. A targeted sally out to Suffolk County delivered the goods when I discovered one of these boldly patterned amphibians curled up under a fallen log, looking like a seasonally appropriate cartoon skeleton with its bony black-and-white markings. As winter’s chill draws nearer, herpetological observations are certain to be fewer and further between, but I am already eagerly looking forward to revisiting this hidden world with next year’s spring thaw!
The end of October brought a rare weekend largely devoid of major commitments or responsibilities, which afforded me the opportunity to enjoy some casual local birding. I spent much of Saturday atop the roof, watching kettles of raptors and skeins of geese working their way southwards. Highlights from this lazy day effort included a high-flying pair of Black Vultures and my first flock of Northern Shovelers for the apartment list. Sunday morning ended up being a major arrival day in our region, and a careful circuit at Randall’s Island revealed half a dozen American Woodcocks lurking amidst the fallen leaves, flyby migrants like Rusty Blackbird, Purple Finch, and American Pipit, and an impressive triple digit count of Song Sparrows foraging along the brushy edges of the fields. Fall is the season when my favored patch reaches the peak of its power, and even outings without any red-letter rarities invariably prove to be delightful experiences, rich in terms of abundance and variety both.
As October draws to a close, there is a palpable air of anticipation within the birding community at large. Late fall, and November in particular, traditionally ushers in a surfeit of bizarre and exciting rarities scattered across the continent. Everyone hopes for a major surprise to turn up somewhere within their chase radius, and there is no telling what shocking avian news will make the next big headline. Migration is still far from over, and there are undoubtedly exciting unknown vagrants out there awaiting discovery at this very moment. It remains to be seen what the final act of 2024 has on offer for the bird world, but I, for one, am grateful for the treats that October was already kind enough to send our way! Onwards to November!