Diaspora Done

Costa's Hummingbirds make everything better. Fort Rosecrans National Cemetary, San Diego, CA.

As you know, migration is winding down, and its no longer easy to head out and get a bunch of year birds whenever you go birding. Here in SoCal its a great time of year for vagrants, but that too will soon pass. The Birder's Summer is about to set in.

As I do most springs, I've been working feverishly and have been unable to get to many destinations that get a lot of colorful migrants...once again, places like High Island, the Dry Tortugas and Magee Marsh will have to wait, and my life list remains without a Cerulean Warbler. There's always next year I guess.

Some California birders loathe March, June and July in general, although July can be decent for shorebirds and seabirds. I'm not sure how I'll cope this year. I suspect beer will help.

Western Wood-Pewees are still moving through California in late May, but it's more of a dribble than a stream. Fort Rosecrans.


Bostick has had a successful trip to Maine, and has a significant lead on me in our half-assed big year competition. That bastard. You know it's really hard to win a big year competition when part of your big year strategy is deliberately avoiding going way out of your way just for year birds. Sigh.

Right. Well here's some birds to look at, a mix of local summer residents and some of the more fleeting spring migrants. Time to buckle down for summer.

Hooded Oriole. Common in San Diego. Still great to look at. Fort Rosecrans.

This is an extremely familiar bird to a lot of you reading this, but it is not a bird to scoff at in California. This teenaged male Baltimore Oriole was one of the rarer birds I saw this month. Fort Rosecrans National Cemetary.

Behold the massive intellect of the Baltimore at work. It's prying open that Eucalyptus with its bill. Why?

To obtain a giant, extremely flat bug of course. When in doubt, pry.

Beginning birdwatchers who bitch about their impotence at sparrow identification have never laid eyes on a Black-chinned Sparrow, who are attired somewhere in between the exotic realms of Facemelt and the simple but chic Economy of Style. Kitchen Creek Road.

The first time I ever heard a Field Sparrow I was floored...they sound exactly like these guys.

Another black-faced bird with a chestnut back...but with the gray swapped for something more extravagant. Blue Grosbeak. Tijuana River Valley, CA.

Olive-sided Flycatcher. It was foraging for three beers. Stonewall Mine, Cuyamaca Rancho State Park.

I never realized how wide their bills are...surely an adaptation for efficiently consuming three beers. Stonewall Mine.

Looking at this makes me sleepy. White-winged Dove. Agua Caliente County Park, CA.

Calliope Hummingbirds were easy to see this year at Point Loma...maybe there is a god. Fort Rosecrans.

Another rare bird, but not something that fits in very well on a checklist. This is an Audubon's X Myrtle Yellow-rumped Warbler, full of hybrid vigor. Old Mission Dam, San Diego, CA.

The Brown Wonder: South Polar Skua

A South Polar Skua never fails to get birder adrenaline pumping on a pelagic trip...this is odd, considering it rather closely resembles a juvenile Western Gull, a bird that always fails to get the adrenaline pumping.

Why is this? What's the big deal? Perhaps because they are never a common bird in North American waters. To be able to see one from shore is a cause for much fanfare...most birders who have seen one from land immediately go out and procure themselves a bottle of champagne and a cake.

Or it could be that people are really partial to the color brown. Yeah?

Or maybe their celebrity status is derived from preying on penguin chicks on their southerly breeding grounds.

It's likely that their status as an uberjager wins them much respect. What other bird has the balls to go after a full-grown Western Gull?

Skua don't give a fuck.

Every birder probably has their own reason for their south polar passions.

This aloof South Polar Skua was photographed off the coast of San Diego, CA.

Pic Of The Week: Nike Blackpoll

This Blackpoll Warbler is swooshing. I am not at liberty to discuss what exactly "swooshing" is, or what it accomplishes, but this is definitely what it looks like. In fact, this Blackpoll is fully swooshed...not something to take lightly. Lostwood National Wildlife Refuge, North Dakota.

Beloved Immigrants...Phalarope Fetishists...Treachery At Sea

This is a Xantus' Murrelet family. Ain't they cute? They were born in the Coronado Islands in Mexico, and immigrated to U.S. waters to forage. No one on board the boat expressed an urge to deport them, despite them depleting our precious resources.

I went on a well-attended pelagic trip over the weekend out of San Diego. Birds were often in low numbers, and so we were forced to pay attention to marine mammals, or worse, birders themselves. It made for an entertaining day, considering I knew a lot of people on the boat.

Anyone who has been on a pelagic knows that people invariably end up seasick or passed out, or both. I passed out in some random person's chair for an hour (thanks!), waking only to see the one and only Pomarine Jaeger of the day fly by (nice spoons!). The seasickness is self explanatory, the sleepiness a biproduct of various motion-sickness remedies and getting up insanely early in the morning. A European girl barfed a lot. One dude (a leader) was sleeping all over the back of the boat, and ended up using one of the giant bags of chum popcorn as a pillow. He was ridiculed mercilessly but took it in stride (meaning he was asleep for most of it).

Some people hardly moved at all, the entire time, and I don't think they were even seasick. I fail to see why you would bother to even go on a bird boat if you are not interested in seeing birds. There were some impressive feats of laziness. Maybe some people just really like to have lots of strangers look at them sleep...a strange fetish, but who am I to judge?

In U.S. waters, Black Storm-Petrels are confined to California (as are the murrelets above). Luckily they were with the boat regularly throughout the day, and a few swooped in close enough for photographs.

A friend who will remain safely anonymous provided great entertainment by loudly pointing attention to certain birds and blatantly misidentifying them. This deserves further discussion....let us refer to him, from now on, as Red Phalarope Man.

For one, people (non-leaders) really should be calling out birds. You will frequently find yourself getting on interesting-looking birds before the leaders do, so you should point them out, no question about it, even if you're not sure what they are. Good examples of this would be "a black and white shearwater" or "a storm-petrel with a white rump". The problem arises when you completely slaughter an identification. That is when the shame and embarrassment sinks deep into the marrow of your bones, and you feel like you are rotting from the inside out, particularly when you appear to be stringing a common bird into a rarer one.

Relatively early in the day Red Phalarope Man called out a Northern Fulmar, which quickly morphed back into a Sooty Shearwater. I could understand how that Sooty Shearwater may have looked like a fulmar...it was in heavy molt, and flying directly away. In fact, I have made that same mistake on a boat....but corrected myself, of course. Not this time...it took a phlanx of other birders, including a leader, to coax this confused Red Phalarope Man down from his fulmarrish high. Still, this innocent act is quite forgivable, at least on its own.

Red-necked Phalaropes. They are not similar to Red Phalaropes, particularly in the middle of May.

Later in the day, someone spotted a very distant flock of phalaropes sitting on the water in horrible light. Not realizing that they were impossible to identify at such a distance, a phalarope-crazed birder exclaimed, "What are they?! What kind of phalaropes?!" The appropriate reaction to such an outburst would be awkward silence, so I was shocked to hear Red Phalarope Man exclaim loudly, to the whole boat, "RED PHALAROPES! RED PHALAROPES!"

This confused me. I had previously trusted Red Phalarope Man's identification skills. He is (was?) a friend of mine. Being the Number 7 birder in the nation, it was clear to me immediately that this was a baseless claim, even though it was possible he was correct. We had seen many Red-necked Phalaropes that day, but no Reds. The distance between us and the birds was staggering. The only thing that was discernible about these fantastically far birds was a sort of grayish tint, and that itself bordered on a hallucination. And although I wanted him to be right, I was utterly unsurprised when we motored up to the flock and they were all Red-necked Phalaropes, the commoner and less facemelty species.

When the true identify of the flock became known, the fallen birder had slunk from the bow of the ship, avoiding eye contact at all costs. He did not appear again until many hours later, and it was obvious to everyone that the light had gone out of his eyes. His cheeks were stained with dry tears, and he walked as if he was heavily burdened. Of course, other birders smelled the blood in the water, and Red Phalarope Man was mercilessly chastised throughout the rest of the trip for his very public lapse in judgement. It was relentless, and is probably what kept our sanity for the rest of the day, because we hardly saw anything else in the way of birds. Feeling backed into a corner, he even claimed that I had no right to talk shit because I wasn't calling out birds! That son of a bitch! I had been calling out birds like there was no tomorrow (all correctly, thanks)...it was a true stab in the back, and I do not intend to ever forgive this amateur birdwatcher for his treachery.

In reality (where nonbirders live), we were just taking the piss out of him, and we all raged together happily at the end of the day. The primary leader of the trip botched a few calls himself...they say shit happens, but so do blown calls. Red Phalarope Man did correctly identify a giant bail of marijuana floating in the water, and why we passed by hundreds of thousands of dollars bobbing around in the sea was a mystery to him.

Pink-footed Shearwaters were one of the few common species offshore. The economy of style reigns supreme in these waters.

This South Polar Skua was the only major highlight of the day. It spent a lot of time closely circling the boat, triggering a number of strokes among the more sensitive birders. I've never seen one this early in the year before, and never such a curious one....so not a bad bird, by any means. Many more photos of this penguin-slayer to come.

Phalaropes were the basis of another humorous moment, when possibly the same phalarope-crazed woman from earlier was demanding the identity of another incredibly distant phalarope flock. "Can someone tell what they are?", she pleaded. "Isn't there a leader nearby to tell us? WHERE IS A LEADER?"

Of course, a leader happened to be standing right next to her, and for his own reasons thought it best to completely ignore her, for good or ill. I do not condemn this act, although its not exactly good business...I eventually stepped in and kept it real with her.

And so it goes. Another day on the boat. I seem to be developing an unlucky boat streak....my last really good day at sea was back in 2010, when I finished finished the afternoon with hundreds of Short-tailed Shearwaters, dozens of Laysan Albatross, a Short-tailed Albatross, and friendly flocks of Horned and Tufted Puffins as we pulled into the harbor....of course, I was getting paid to see all of that, but that was another time.

Elegant Terns frequently bummed out the boat by suddenly appearing overhead far out at sea. Normally this would not be an unfortunate event, but most people were hoping for Common and Arctic Terns instead. They are still great though.

Sooty Shearwater; a bird unlike a Northern Fulmar.

A (Hella) Different Kind of Spring

The Great Ornithologist Felonious Jive and I had a Mexican collaboration for this month's 10,000 Birds post. By all means, read it here.

Pic of the Week: Proto-terns

Bird nests, or lack thereof, fascinate me. As you can see, Least Terns don't work very hard.

Monumental Laziness

What House Wrens lack in color they make up for in enthusiasm...not that you can really see that here, but you know what I'm saying. I dig the fine barring on the wings and tail, that's a nice touch. Mission Trails Regional Park, San Diego, CA.

I still wonder why, after a few years of using SLRs, it takes me so damn long to absorb any information about how to get the best use out of them. My lack of patience is astounding, and my laziness is monumental. When I look at what people like Walter and Mia do...well, it's pretty motivating. I imagine they might have better gear than me, but in the digital age, that's not as big of a factor as it used to be. I guess I just need to get better at stuff.

I've been hella busy lately, mostly with long (work) days on the beach. Sorry for the lack of output, but there are lots of other blogs swirling around the Birdosphere to keep you busy for the time being. Tomorrow my house will be invaded by hoardes of nerds, all of whom will be going on a pelagic trip with me on Saturday. The realistic me knows to only expect the expected birds (an attitude that served me well on my last pelagic), but the optimistic me has been praying to the bird gods night and day for something pants-shittingly rare. More on that soon.

Since TPAD Dan will be showing up as well, you are stuck with two pictures today.

Lark Sparrows are just as bewildered by UFOs as the rest of us. East San Diego County, CA.

Elegants/Elegance

Among the ranks of the "specialty" birds found in California is the Elegant Tern. They don't get as much attention as that other "elegant" bird over in Arizona...you know what I'm talking about here, nerds...but they are loveable nonetheless.

Elegant Terns come in relative abundance for most of the year, and they bring a lot of life (and noise) to the south coast in spring and summer, where they have a few breeding colonies in San Diego and Orange Counties. Indeed, I owe the Elegant colony of Bolsa Chica a lot, for they hosted the only Sooty and Sandwich Terns I have ever seen in California (which I saw on the same day, no less). In fall they move northward (as many Mexican birds are prone to do), but go south of the border when winter comes.

Being a seabird, terns take to the air in order to win the hearts and cloacas of the opposite sex. For much of the spring you could see them doing their tear-jerkingly graceful courtship flights over places like the mouth of the Tijuana River and the J Street Mudflats.

Some of their mid-air moves are quite impressive.

Fact: I have seen Elegant Terns having sex more than any other species of bird. Take from that what you will. I like what's happening over there on the right.

It is easy forget that the total population of Elegant Terns is relatively small (<100,000 individuals) and that they only nest at a handful of colonies, the vast majority of which is on Isla Rasa in the Gulf of California.

Elegants lack the legal status of Least Terns, the celebrity of Arctic Terns and the massive bulk of Caspian Terns, and they look appallingly similar to Royal Terns, but....and this will make sense to some of you...and by all means read this next part with a deliberate, but overly enthusiastic Tennessee accent...they are another shining example of California's Gold.

Pic Of The Week: Little Blueness

Little Blue Heron. I like how everything in the photo is a variation on the same few shades of color, aside from the sculpin-thing that is being destroyed. NO MERCY. San Diego River, San Diego, CA.

What Have I Done?

Olive-sided Flycatchers win universal praise and admiration from all of the continent's birders. A high-elevation alcoholic, I have always considered their beer-craving cry to be synonomous with thin air and the smell of Ponderosa and Jeffrey Pines. Stonewall Mine, Cuyamaca Rancho State Park, CA.

Indeed...what have I done? It seems that I have locked myself into a terrible big year competition with someone who I feel is best referred to as a Kenny Bostick-type character. What's worse is that we plan on birding a lot of the same areas this year, and he will be making an east coast trip soon...which puts me at a severe disadvantage. While I toil in a tern colony, he will be face-to-face with Atlantic Puffins, Razorbills, and lord-knows what kind of warblers that may make their way to Matinicus Rock.

Win or lose, come January 1....things may never be the same. The stakes have never been higher, and ever since we made The Agreement, I have found myself locked in a constant state of anxiety.

Of course, neither of us plans to travel extensively just for the sole and embarrassing purpose of a Big Year, but it is another thing to motivate us to get out. I'm not really a competitive person, but this seems like fun...my friend "Bostick" is better funded than I for this endeavor, but he is also notoriously cheap. And so, we bird on a level playing field.

Today is my last day off until the 19th, when I will hop on a boat, snort some Bonine and stare at seabirds all day. So far I have decided to regain some of my humanity by sleeping in and cleaning the cabin....so until then my eyeballs will be glued to Snowy Plovers and Least Terns.

Here's a few recent year birds.

Hermit Warblers are plentiful in San Diego County this spring. This comes as a great relief, since they are typically harder to find than their more abundant Townsend's and Black-throated Gray cousins. Like a number of other warblers, Hermits are terribly named...I could get behind something like "Golden-faced Pine Warbler." Any suggestions? Stonewall Mine.

Least Terns are the center of my life now. They are laying eggs like gangbusters, which means a lot of extra work. Bring it on, terns. Tijuana Slough National Wildlife Refuge, CA.

Calliope Hummingbird is another universally adored bird. The smallest hummingbird in the states, it is much sought-after throughout its range by legions of nerds. Yes, this is the same tree that the Prothonotary Warbler was in...it is indeed a magic tree. Fort Rosecrans National Cemetary, San Diego, California.

When "Bostick" visited last weekend, he was exposed to the shock and awe that is San Diego birding, where the birds just don't make sense. He did not understand singing Chipping Sparrows and Dark-eyed Juncos singing right on the coast, not to mention the Yellow-crowned Night-Herons, Little Blue Herons, Gull-billed Terns and multitudes of Red Knots. I don't blame him. Fort Rosecrans National Cemetary.

This will not go down in history as the best Blue Grosbeak photo ever taken, but I think it's funny. This sort of photo is typically reserved for raptors. Tijuana River Valley, CA.

Backstroking Through Knob Creek

I have forgotten that work really gets in the way of blogging. And that's on top of birding, which ironically also gets in the way of blogging. I don't think bourbon consumption really helps or impedes the blog though, it's just necessary for my well-being. Should I take a dip in good old Knob Creek* tonight?

Oh. I also should be writing my Mother's Day card. So much to do!

Birding in San Diego has, of course, been good lately. Where else can you see Black Storm-Petrel and Prothonotary Warbler in the same day? I only have a couple scattered days off in the next couple of weeks, but then its time for my first pelagic trip of the year. I fiend for seabirds, so am looking forward to it. All these bright, flashy birds leave me yearning a certain Economy of Style.

Speaking of which, BB&B offers some more subdued birds today.

* = Knob Creek is a tasty bourbon, not an obscure birding spot where bad things happen in the bushes.

Watching avocets feeding is unusually pleasing, especially when they are sync'd up. Tijuana Slough National Wildlife Refuge, CA.

Surface scum-dwellers recoil in horror at the thought of their finely upturned bills.

The spring migration shorebird medley continues to pass through the area on it's way north. This has resulted in me seeing a lot more Red Knots (whom some have variously/nerdily described as a "glut" or a "slug"), although I am still an abject failure when it comes to photographing them. Instead, I have to make do with species like Western Sandpiper, Marbled Godwit and Dunlin. Tijuana Slough National Wildlife Refuge.

Here the medley is further medlied by the addition of something that resembles a Short-billed Dowitcher. So meddlesome.

Although they don't turn any redder, blacker or whiter in spring like many shorebirds, Whimbrels are at least noticeably more common this time of year. We applaud their presence, simply because sharply-decurved bills are laudable facial features. Ocean Beach, San Diego, CA.

A few Brant still linger and yodel and bark down south with us. Many of them have made it to their Alaskan breeding areas by now. J Street Mudflats, Chula Vista, CA.

This Gadwall is particularly well-marked for a species infamous for dwelling in comparitive mediocrity. Tijuana Slough National Wildlife Refuge.

This Northern Rough-winged Swallow looks very strong. Look at those bulging breast muscles...it can probably migrate around the whole world without stopping. Tijuana Bird and Butterfly Garden, CA.

A Song Sparrow belts it out at the San Diego Zoo. You gotta sing your heart out there if you want to drown out the peacocks.

San Diego is infamous for it's exotic species...for good or ill, this kind is still confined to aviaries. This uneconomically-styled hornbill (anyone know what kind?) resides at the San Diego Zoo. Such dainty eyelashes!