Date: 5/9/25 9:33 pm From: David M via groups.io <davidpmassa...> Subject: [hmbirds] Spring Migration Detour - Birding Marco Island
I know this forum is primarily dedicated to sightings around the Capital Region and the Mohawk–Hudson Valley area, but after recently returning from a 10-day stay on Marco Island, Florida, I felt inclined to share this slightly off-topic trip report. Over the past couple of years, I’ve learned so much from the club—skills that helped prepare me for what turned into one of the most memorable birding experiences I’ve had, even if the trip itself wasn’t planned entirely around birds.
*Tigertail Beach Highlights*
With a pair of binoculars never far from reach, I found myself drawn again and again to the legendary Tigertail Beach Nature Preserve. This spot quickly became my go-to, with three morning and three evening visits that each felt like turning the page of a live migration journal.
One evening delivered a bright Prairie Warbler, a female American Redstart, and the unmistakable peent call of a Common Nighthawk overhead. Another night, I watched a Reddish Egret dance its way through a sunset tidepool while a single Great Egret settled into the mangroves beside several Cattle Egrets perched quietly in the trees. Nearby, Snowy Egrets darted in and out of the shallows with sharp, purposeful strides, while White Ibises foraged steadily through the mudflats in small, tight groups. A pair of Mottled Ducks cruised silently along the edges of a quiet inlet. On the final evening, two Green Herons appeared—crouched low, combing the shoreline in seemingly eerie, synchronized coordination.
One morning brought a fleeting glimpse of a Whimbrel—there one moment, gone the next. Later that same day, I spotted a Swallow-tailed Kite soaring high above the preserve, carving elegant figure-eight loops across the sky. Tricolored Herons were also a regular presence, gliding between mangroves or stalking fish through shallow pools. These moments were subtle but unforgettable.
*Shorebird Spectacles*
Shorebird activity was consistently excellent. Dunlins and Short-billed Dowitchers were present in good numbers during both morning and evening visits. The Dowitchers, with their subtly shifting plumages, often sparked thoughts of Red Knots, which I was hoping to see but never confirmed.
One of the most striking scenes came while walking the eroded shoreline of the tidal lagoon. I stumbled upon a large, mixed flock of resting shorebirds—all huddled together in the midday sun. At first glance, it was a soft blur of brown and white, but once I started picking out individuals, the scene came alive: Royal Terns, Sandwich Terns, Laughing Gulls, Cormorants, Ruddy Turnstones, Black-bellied Plovers, and Short-billed Dowitchers—all packed together in a peaceful, chaotic harmony. After going back through lots of footage, I believe there were also one or two Caspian Terns mixed in with the large group of Royal Terns. It was the kind of classic shorebird gathering that feels both overwhelming and meditative, especially in such good light.
The shorebirds would often pick apart the crab legs before eating them whole—fierce, efficient, and oddly elegant. I also caught a Willet from a distance, adding to the growing list of highlights.
*Birds Beyond the Beach*
Some of the most surprising discoveries came from more urban surroundings. The condo parking lot became an accidental hotspot where I tallied lifers like Black-and-white Warbler and Cape May Warbler, plus a Brown Thrasher, Boat-tailed Grackles, and ever-present Eurasian Collared-Doves. We were leaving a restaurant in the Isles of Capri when the parking lot lit up with one of our best post-dinner finds—Black-throated Blue Warbler, Cape May Warbler, and Northern Waterthrush (a lifer) all in one unexpected flourish.
Watching Wilson’s Plovers and Semipalmated Plovers patiently stalk and devour whole Fiddler Crabs and Coquina Clams was a spectacle all its own. I also caught a Red-bellied Woodpecker returning insects to a nest cavity inside the collar of a live palm—an intimate glimpse into nesting behavior.
And of course, the island’s beloved Burrowing Owls made their mark. I found one burrow with eight owlets spilling out, chattering, hissing, and play-fighting in the sun. Watching them interact was like flipping through a chapter of Marco’s living history.
*A Moment of Stillness*
One afternoon near Caxambas Pass, I was treated to a quiet, almost timeless scene: a few Gopher Tortoises slowly emerging from their burrows and navigating the brush like miniature dinosaurs. They moved with a kind of ancient grace, as if carrying the calm wisdom of the island on their backs. It was a serene and grounding way to reflect on all the movement and energy the rest of the trip had offered.
And yes—the no-see-ums at Tigertail Beach during the evenings were relentless, lighting me up every night despite clouds of DEET. Still: worth every bite and itch.
*Final Thoughts*
It was one of those rare trips where everything clicks: the right place, the right time, and the birds to match. Marco Island, especially Tigertail Beach, reminded me why spring migration is one of the most exhilarating times to be a birder. If you haven’t been—go. And if you have—you know exactly what I’m talking about.
