Winter Mexico Tour Y2K16, The Final Days: Laguna La Maria, Playa del Oro, Rancho Primavera

Ahhh, the final Mexico post. Let's push through! Laguna La Maria is known for its picnic tables. This is because Orange-billed Nightingale-Thrushes (trip bird!) like to forage near them.

This is the same Black-throated Green Warbler from my last Mexico post. I don't know if I'll see any more this year, so here is another photo. Farewell, Black-throated Green Warbler.

There's a lot of Solitary Vireos in Nayarit, Jalisco and Colima. Most are Plumbeous, but Cassin's (like this one) are fairly common. This is isn't a crush obviously, but Cassin's Vireo has never graced BB&B before, so there it is and here we are.

Dipper Dan was fuming from the lack of lifers that morning. Can't say I blame him.

After making our way west to the coast and north past Manzanillo, we took a detour to check the Manzanillo airport marshes, mentioned in Howell's guide...it was awful. Definitively the worst birding spot of the trip...the marsh is not what it used to be, and I don't recommend setting aside any time to bird here. Only bird of interest was an adult male Snail Kite soaring over the road.

That night we stayed in Barra de Navidad, which is full of gringos but small - legit seafood though. Sweet, luscious concha was had. We randomly found the place that was listed as the cheapest in town according to my Mexi travel guide, and I'm pretty sure that title was not awarded unjustly. Don Francisco was giddy, it cost so little money. Lucky for us, we got a room on the roof, which overlooks a little lagoon, which turned out to be a great place to drink and bird simultaneously. Unexpectedly, Barra de Navidad happens to be home to an absolutely enormous Barn Swallow roost, which was located just a couple of blocks away.

Don Francisco, Stilt and Flycatcher Jen gaze upward into the swallow swarm directly above us, getting ready to land on things like windowsills for the night.

We stayed in Barra de Navidad in order to bird the Playa Del Oro road the next morning. The birding was good! The major highlight was a Golden-crowned Emerald that Dipper Dan found, which was the last lifer of the trip for me. After so many hummingbird failures and the stress of being gripped off on yet another target species, this was truly satisfying. We dipped on Flammulated Flycatcher, but had lots of Orange-breasted Buntings, White-bellied Wrens (new trip bird, common here), and an absurd number of Red-billed Tropicbirds scoped from the beach.

Looking southward along the beach at Playa del Oro. See that big offshore rock on the right? It is surrounded by tropicbirds. We had some Black Terns offshore as well (trip bird!). The eBird checklist from the morning can be perused here.

After Don Francisco frolicked in the water and promptly lost his glasses (which gave birth to "Hank", whom we all love and miss dearly) and lunching in Barra de Navidad, we lurked north up the coast, stopping at the same random wetlands that we birded on the way south, in order to dip on Collared Plover yet again. The dip was a success!

This Yellow-crowned Night-Heron is not a Collared Plover.

Neither is this Roseate Spoonbill.

Flycatcher Jen and Stilt ensure that no Collared Plovers are nearby.

That afternoon we made our triumphant return to Rancho Primavera. Bonnie informed us that a Sparkling-tailed Hummingbird had appeared while we were gone, which enraged Dipper Dan. We did not see it. But we did have a mellow morning of birding the property on the final day, which was a good way to end the trip.

Streak-backed Orioles came in for the crushiest encounters.

We saw a lot of dingy Streak-backed Orioles on the trip, but this one brought the facemelt.

Before this trip, I had only seen one Plain-capped Starthroat...for about 5 seconds. It was not a pleasant experience. Rancho Primavera provided many superior viewing opportunities.

This is a good bird...large hummingbirds have a certain allure to them. I'll have to look at one in Arizona sometime. According to Bonnie, the property doesn't get the number or diversity of hummingbirds that they used to get, but I reckon that could change at any time.

Goodbye Yellow-winged Caciques. You are a weird endemic.

So long Masked Tityra. In what country will I see you next?

Adios, Orange-fronted Parakeet. May you remain plentiful.

Vaya con dios, Black-throated Magpie-Jay. I still do not quite comprehend how you exist.

After dropping Stilt off at the Puerto Vallarta airport, the remaining nerds made one last desperate try for Collared Plover (a bird that I hate) at a river mouth at the edge of town, which of course was unsuccessful but it was very birdy and seems like a good spot for them. After that, we drank some mezcal in the airport and went our separate ways...except I sat next to Flycatcher Jen on the plane (Mexican Miracle) and got a ride home from Don Francisco's family from the airport in San Francisco.

There's not a whole lot I would have done differently on this trip...a second day birding "Voclan de Fuego" would have been great, and we should have birded Microondas La Cumbre instead of birding north of Colima (toward Laguna La Maria). A second day of birding Tecuitata (Nayarit) would have been good as well. There are some additional locations near San Blas that we did not get to, but I feel like we did quite well with our target birds there.

But, of course, we did not get everything. I got gripped off on Amethyst-throated Hummingbird and Red-breasted Chat (repeatedly and hurtfully). We did not get Banded Quail, Collared Plover, Mexican Hermit, Sparkling-tailed Hummingbird, Bee Hummingbird, any interesting swifts (ugh...major failure), Eared Poorwill, Bare-shanked Screech-Owl (not that we looked, they are at Microondas La Cumbre), Thick-billed Parrot, Flammulated Flycatcher, Mangrove Vireo, Aztec Thrush, Colima Warbler, and Ruddy-breasted Seedeater. I think that covers most of the dipped-on birds we could have reasonably seen.

But you know what? Fuck those birds I didn't see. I got 47 lifers on this trip (!) and had a hell of a time. I saw 350 species or so in less than two and a half weeks, and I only had food poisoning for one day! Thanks to Flycatcher Jen (who gets listed first because she craves notoriety), Don Francisco, Stilt and Dipper Dan for joining me on another very fucking nerdy and very fucking successful birding trip.

HBP Presents: Hybrid Theory Revisited

As the #7 birder in the U.S., I am a public figure. Even my nonbirder friends introduce me to others as #7, inevitably leading to wide eyes and gaping mouths. It's a ranking that should not be taken with nonchalance, and rest assured I do not take it lightly. I have no choice but to wear many hats...teacher, mentor, arbiter, birding tastemaker, identification wizard, dispenser of wisdom to all. Periodically I am compelled to call out to the dark and huddled birding masses when I can no longer bear their confusion and pain. I am nothing if not compassionate. From Mount Olympus (where the Global Birder Ranking System's Top Ten reside), I will hurl mighty thunderbolts of knowledge down to my people far below. I do it not for myself, but for them....and only when the very future of birding is at stake.

Long-time readers of BB&B are familiar with these disgruntled screeds of mine, and readers usually agree with me...if they are not blinded by rage or butthurt, which any discussion of The Bird Police tends to invoke. In fact, shortly after I admonished birderdom for overusing the cringe-inducing phase, "Birds have wings. They use them.", almost every birder in the entire world cut it from their vocabulary in a matter of months. The birder pandemic was stopped cold in its tracks. What a relief! So if you are wondering what happened with that, now you know. However, there is another topic where I have not had such success. In fact, the problem has grown steadily worse...hybrid theory.

If I posted this booby photo somewhere on the internets today and presented it as a Brown X Red-footed Booby hybrid, a lot of people would be inclined to believe me...despite this hybrid never being documented before. If this were 1996, birders would universally snort and laugh. I miss 1996. This Brown Booby was photographed at the Farallon Islands, CA.

More and more, birders rely on the poorly-constructed crutch of identifying birds as hybrids whenever they look at all atypical. For those who do not drop h-bombs to explain away anything unusual about a bird's appearance, this has become very frustrating. For some leading birders, it is considered one of the biggest problems our people face. Although I cannot speak freely of what goes on in these inner circles, I will admit that Mount Olympus is a pretty sad place to be these days. It's not the Mountain of Glory it used to be...#4 has even started calling it the Mountain of Shame. So what are we to do?

I'm not sure. There is little new to discuss...but the first step in tackling any problem of this magnitude is public awareness. Hybrid theory is here, it is happening now, and no one is safe. If all I can do is talk about it, then that is what I shall do.

The problem remains the same: birders will default to calling a bird a hybrid if it does not fit their rigidly constructed confines for how a species is allowed to appear. The problem becomes particularly pronounced in regard to examining birds in digital photos. It simply is not constructive...in fact it drags down meaningful conversation about bird identification and how a species may appear. What is new is the increasing tendency for birders to go the hybrid route; a number of birders even fixate on hybrids, mistakenly believing that mixed blood is the answer for anything and everything that can explain a mildly bizarre field mark or two. In fact, proponents of hybrid theory can often get going (get off?) just by seeing photos of a bird that feature unusual lighting or just overall poor quality. It frightens me. Is this what birding has become?

When looking at photos, a lot of birders (including good ones) often think they can land a solid ID without taking bad angles and poor lighting into account. The poor light, weird angle and mildly embarrassing photo quality you see here may render this something it is not. A hybrid theorist would perhaps say [in a very casual, lackadaisical voice, as if lounging in the sun wearing worn-in overalls and chewing a piece of straw] it could be, oh, say a Nashville X Yellow Warbler.  However, common sense calls for extraordinary claims to be backed by suitably impressive evidence, which certainly is absent from this photo and in many hybridcentric discussions. Are birders becoming divorced from common sense? This Mourning Warbler was photographed in San Francisco, CA.

Obviously (and I should not even have to say this, but I will) there are a not insignificant number of species that hybridize on the regular - large gulls, ducks, geese, sapsuckers, western flycatchers (is a lump on the horizon?), titmice, some warblers, etc...I know all this. You know all this. Hell, I've seen a Great Knot X Surfbird hybrid. How do you like that? Yet my foundation has not been shaken...not every single bird is fair game for being a hybrid. You can't apply the gull perspective of hybridization and poorly-defined species limits to every other bird. You cannot believe, for example, that Great Frigatebirds are secretly (under cover of darkness?) genetically swamping Magnificent Frigatebirds out of existence...that 10,000 Savannah Sparrows are all going to look like a "textbook" Savannah Sparrow. And if you truly find those ideas plausible...that is why you fail.

My god, look at this! Scaly-breasted Munias have finally started crossing cloacas with White-crowned Sparrows...right? No. This beautiful creature is, logically, a melanistic Song Sparrow. Photographed in Samoa, CA, by Rob Fowler.

Thankfully, cooler heads (generally with higher GBRS scores) usually prevail in these conversations. Usually. Sadly...that is not always the case. Good birders must consider all possibilities when confronted with avian weirdness...but some fall victim to the hybrid [conspiracy] theorists. Good birders can sometimes lose sight of what is realistic, even if there is an ample lack of evidence to shut down someone who is sold on promoting a rarely or never described hybrid as the solution to an ID problem.

If you have gotten this far into the post and are experiencing an unsettling combination of guilt, self-doubt and rage, then you surely have the tendencies that I am decrying above. Search your feelings, you know it to be true. But I say this to you: you can save yourself, quiet those who seek to put an end to the idea of any genetic purity in birds. Let go of your confusion, silence the voice inside you who whispers not of the wonders of natural variation, but of unrelated species conspiring to create unimaginable spawn in a corner of a dark and distant forest. Join me, and we can correct the thousands of hybrid theorists who are overthrowing common sense in a quest to rule the birding galaxy.

Come with me. It is the only way.

Cave Swallow

We are asked to pull to the side of the road at a checkpoint outside of El Paso. Deep nowhere in the high desert of West Texas. Big sky country with a carpet of archetypal Chihuahuan desert shimming to the horizon and back. Our rig loaded with stringed instruments, boxes of books, binoculars, various technologies for coffee making. The bone and feather talismans on our dashboard make us suspect the moment we pull up to the roadblock. At the side of the road a man with a gun instructs us to exit our cars slowly, with our hands clearly visible at all times. We do, eyes compulsively scanning sky and scrub. This is new country for us and we are hungry to meet its animals.

After 5 hours behind the wheel, I extract myself awkwardly from the car then double back into it, reaching for my binoculars behind the drivers seat. The officer nearest me swings his shouldered gun around and tightens his grip on it. Keep my hands where I can see them. But we are birders, we explain, benign naturalists who have long since traded in the fiery roach of youth and revolt for the hand lens of tranquility and natural philosophy. Blank stares and they tear our car apart. Hounds sniff the trunk and floor boards. Sage bundles and pressed desert marigolds are the closest they will find to the illegal botany they are so sure we harbor.

The officer guarding us plays good cop. ‘So, you do a little weed once in awhile? A lot of people do, its no biggie.’ I don’t really hear him. I am distracted by the halo of birds he is wearing. A great ringing has filled the structure and the sound is spilling out into the desert beyond. We are being swarmed by cave swallows.

They are nesting here, in this house of fear and suspicion, up in the corners of the open structure. Their thriving village a counterweight to the paranoia we have built here.  Birds falling in and out of their basket homes, earth worked masterpieces of clay, water and spittle, the same ingredients used to make the first woman and man. Peering over the lip of these exquisite potteries, their foreheads aflame with some ancient knowledge. Flying in the face of those who see and exploit borders and shitting upon this blasphemous house.

My co-pilot asks the men with guns to look up at these birds. See, they are nesting here. They help raise each others young. The men are hesitant. They are used to telling people what to do, to forcing confessions, to bullying without resistance. But this woman is contagious in her conviction. They steal glances up to the corners of the building. They want to believe her. In the edges of their eyes, I can see that they want to come with us. To trade in their rifles for spotting scopes. To press flowers, their nostrils caked with pollen as they set the plants between the pages of their field guides. To stalk birds in the gathering light of the early hours, watching birdsong leave birdthroat as a vapor, as a supplication, to the backlit dawn.



This guest post was crafted by Cassidy Grattan, a birder and storyteller equal parts gifted and cursed. The Cave Swallow image was provided courtesy of Nate at This Machine Watches Birds.

Herring Run! Slaty-backed, Thayer's, Hybrids and More

Immediately after returning from Mexico, I quickly found out that I did not have the typical birding hangover I usually endure after such prolonged, lifer-filled birding. A herring run was raging at Point Richmond, where it does every winter, so following a report of THE Slaty-backed Gull, Don Francisco headed out into the rain to wage mental war with thousands of feeding gulls...ersatz birding this was not. One of the first birds of note that we picked out was this first cycle Glaucous X Glaucous-winged Gull, an uncommon hybrid combo in the bay area.

This bird was quite typical looking; first cycle GLGU X GWGU hybrids in my experience show surprisingly little variation. They are big and bulky birds, generally shaped like GWGU, but with obvious pink on the bill (blending into the black tip) and plumage that recalls a dingy GLGU.

Thayer's Gulls have not appeared in many BB&B posts so far this year. This changes everything. This is a pale-eyed individual, not unusual to find around these parts. Note the very large white apical spots, one of the things that helps differentiates this from a wee Herring Gull.

For your edification, here is a first cycle Thayer's with a lot of white on the back.

This is a darker first cycle Thayer's, still quite "fresh" looking; many Thayer's look considerably paler and worn by this time (late January).

And here is a second-cycle Thayer's showing a classic wing pattern.

Don Francisco had never experienced such an intense gull scene. He was in awe.

As everyone knows, Don Francisco has excellent luck, so I figured it was just a matter of time before the Slaty-backed Gull made an appearance. Sure enough, we were lucky to see the bird for a few minutes after waiting around for a couple hours. This bird has been coming to bay area herring runs for many years, and I was happy to get reacquainted.

The white wing covert and "clean" head makes this bird easy to identify as the same returning individual. Whenever I'm birding a herring run, I'm always looking for this particular bird (among others, obvi).

With such a bounty of food available, much more than just gulls show up to partake in the feast. Pelagic Cormorants always attend in small numbers.

Big flocks of diving ducks feast as well.

Herring runs provide some of the best gulling in the western U.S., and is a major perk to winter birding in the bay area. Hopefully a Black-tailed Gull will show up one of these days!

Winter Mexican Tour Y2K16, Days 13-14: "Volcan de Fuego", Laguna La Maria

This Gray Silky-Flycatcher accompanied a mixed flock we blew by early that morning. Alas, we were too low for Dwarf Vireos, and could not loiter with this recent lifer and its Lincoln's Sparrow comrades.

On the morning of Day 13, we ditched shitty Ciudad Guzman for good and headed up the road to "Volcan de Fuego", as Howell calls it...I have not found another resource that calls it that. We barged it in our Minivan de Oro, which was no small feat...the road was burly in a number of places, and we definitely put some dings into the van. I would not recommend taking a minivan or sedan up this road, at least for the higher reaches, unless you have Don Francisco at the helm or you are willing to fuck up your rental. 4x4 is not necessary though, just high clearance. Though the road is shitty it does look like it is kept clear, so despite it being almost washed out in places no fallen trees will block your way until you get way up high.

The birding was good...really, really good. Huge flocks abounded. Taking a wrong turn rewarded us with close-up looks at Slaty Vireos, a group lifer that left me reeling. We never did find a Dwarf, but I'll totally take a Slaty over a Dwarf.  In fact, there were so many birds it was difficult to make much progress as far as elevation gains. Stopping at the turnoff to the microondas was birdy (shocker), with the highlight being calling Long-tailed Wood-Partridges...we never did see them, but that is a hell of heard-only bird.

We ran into a handful of Calliope Hummingbirds while birding higher elevations during this trip. I'm a big proponent of Calliope Hummingbirds, but they were not the hummingbirds we were looking for. Do you know what we did not run into? Bumblebee Hummingbirds, Mexican Hermits, Sparkling-tailed Hummingbirds. Pain, pain, pain.

The volcano slumbers, or so we thought.

The hills and mountains of western Mexico are rife with Tufted Flycatchers. At the appropriate elevation, they always seem to be one of the most abundant and conspicuous birds. They are charming and mellow, and comforting in their orangeness.

Slate-throated Redstarts are also thick at these elevations. These are flashy birds, whipping about and splaying their tails constantly.

When crippling birds are conspicuous, even a mini-crippler such as this, birders are happy.

In the early afternoon we finally reached a zone that was rotten...rotten with the stench of potential lifers. There is some incredible habitat on this road if you can make it far enough. This is where Howell references species like Thick-billed Parrot and flock of 100+ of Aztec Thrush. Guess what we did not see? We did have a Colima Warbler scare, but fortunately the frightful bird was just a Virginia's Warbler. What a relief!

Not especially frightful was this Russet Nightingale-Thrush, which we had been seeing but I did not realize until this day was a life bird...how embarrassing! Russet Nightingale-Thrush is endemic to Mexico and has the unfortunate distinction of having a name similar to Ruddy-capped Nightingale-Thrush, which it does resemble. Anyhow, we had a couple Russet Nightingale-Thrush on this road and in previous days, I wouldn't say it is a tough bird to come by up on the volcanoes.

Shortly after I got my lifer Rufous-capped Brush-Finch (and narrowly avoiding yet another grip off...fuuuuuuuccccckkkkkkk yesssssssssssssssss!!!!!!!!) we turned around and called it quits for the day. On the way back I noticed something strange...an erupting volcano...you don't see that every day. This was not totally unexpected (Bonnie back at Rancho Primavera said it was active), but it was still intense, to put it lightly. I told my nerd crew earlier in the morning that if the volcano wanted us dead, we would certainly die that day.  When this suddenly became a very realistic possbility, the nerds could not handle it, since the most exciting thing they typically experience is watching their list totals increase in eBird. Dipper Dan let out an eerie wail and promptly shat himself (loudly and horrifically), others lay in the road, curled in the fetal position and sobbing loudly. Frank moaned about all the money he wouldn't be able to save for the rest of his life, Stilt tried to revise her entire life up to the very moment, and (White-throated) Flycatcher Jen awkwardly continued to try to be the center of attention while most of the other nerds were busy dying.

The beginning of The End.

This is what The End looks like.

The Grim Reaper is in there, we could see him.

Obviously no one died, and the volcano erupting is a regular occurrence. Here you can see the moon next to the ash cloud, which calms everyone from turnstones to (White-throated) Flycatcher Jen.

Everyone agreed that this was the best birding of the whole trip, despite the number of target birds we missed. I would strongly recommend birding this road more than once if you are in the area; it would be easy to camp next to higher up, and we did not encounter a single vehicle above the ag fields. Our checklist for the day is here.

That night we lurked down to Colima, where I don't quite remember where we stayed for the night (I'm drinking whisky right now, you see). We did not stay at Los Candiles, a favorite birding hotel, as it was too bloody expensi. Oh, just remembered! We stayed at someplace on the zocalo. It was acceptable, and not expensi! There isn't a lot of food around there, but there was a veggie place that FJ was quite chuffed about.

The next day was the single worst day of birding we had on the trip...and it wasn't bad! Just not great. I mean, we got another Slaty Vireo (on the highway in front of El Jacal de San Antonio), and a pretty good day list, but most of us did not lifer that day. We had some good random roadside birding, but the most interesting stop of the morning was Laguna La Maria.

As soon as we entered the park at Laguna La Maria, we were welcomed by an absolutely massive flock of Lilac-crowned Parrots, far more than we saw on the entire trip combined. They were loud and highly visible. After Stilt caught a goose for fondling purposes, we lurked down to the lake to try to pick up some weird birds. Not many weird birds were to be found, though the area was birdy. After a Red-crowned Ant-Tanager departed, an Olivaceous Woodcreeper gave us very good lucks, which was a relief as I had missed all the previous OLWOs that had been seen earlier in the trip.

This Ivory-crowned Woodcreeper was very confiding, which is how I prefer my woodcreepers, abundance be damned.

Could this be a bird that will show up in the Rio Grande Valley someday? I think that is a reasonable question to ask. But the wait could be a bitch, so cross the border and go birding already.

You know what these are...these are nerds. Don't worry, they are not looking at anything interesting...probably a Great Egret and some coots. You can see the nice, lush habitat that is around the lake though.

Black-throated Green Warblers were uncommon in most of the places we birded during the trip, but as you know, they will always come in for good looks, be it in the state of Texas or the state of Colima.

More from Laguna La Maria, Playa del Oro and Rancho Primavera up next!