The Right Side of History...Amateurs of Skulk...A Fowl of Mystery

This mama harrier was being followed around by a gaggle of needy juveniles. Nesting season has about run its course, and now thousands of birds are getting ready to fly the wrong direction and vagrate their way to California.  Coyote Hills Regional Park, Fremont, CA.

Before I start rambling about recent bird sightings, I need to talk about the last post...I couldn't believe the response that it elicited. That post rapidly rocketed to the second most popular post BB&B has ever put out, and really it is the most popular post among birders (Reddit traffic accounted for the higher popularity of another post).

This took me completely by surprise...but I think it captured something that no one had bothered to really explain before, at least not in depth. And the people were ready for it. Birders were coming out of the woodwork to congratulate me on that one, and amazingly I have yet to be trolled. Maybe it's because I have birding history on my side?  Or maybe the birders who prefer asking the internet for bird identification rather than opening a field guide don't read BB&B?  I don't think anyone read that post and thought "Things will never be the same...", but as #7 I have no choice but to bellow my trendsetting voice into the Birdosphere and hope the people will hear me.

And now, on to birds.

It's always deeply unsettling for birders to see harriers soaring high above them. Maybe because we are not used to it? Or maybe because this is the last thing millions of birds and rodents have seen over the years before they met their demise? This must be a terrifying angle of harrier-viewing for many creatures.

Big flocks of American White Pelicans wheeling around in the sky is never an unsettling sight. I can still remember how remarkable I thought it was the first few times I ran into some some big migrant flocks. Though no longer remarkable, I still find it difficult to look away. Photographed at Coyote Hills.

Lesser Goldfinches don't make it onto BB&B very often, mostly because I see them constantly. Familiarity breeds contempt. I don't despise them, it just doesn't occur to me to put them on here...and I don't know why I'm still trying to explain all of this to you. Lesser Goldfinches are late nesters, as evidenced by this female enthusiastically gathering nesting material. Photographed at Coyote Hills.

You know what they say...if you are going to put up pictures of absurdly common birds, you better crush them. This is for all of you out east who live a lonely, single-goldfinch-species-life.

Monarchs are suckers for milkweed, aren't they?  This one was busy laying eggs, not something I see very often with any butterfly. Photographed at Coyote Hills.

Not long ago one Flycatcher Jen graced the bay area with her brownish presence, but it was a bit of a struggle to figure out where we should go birding. Finally we settled on chasing a bizarre rarity...of sorts...with a stop for Least Bitterns on the way. The bitterns were not hard to find (a luxury when looking for Least Bittern, trust me) and we got solid looks at this mostly-grown chick. Photographed at the Las Gallinas Ponds, Marin County, CA.

There were two chicks doing a mediocre job of hiding in the reeds, with at least one adult flying around foraging for the chicks. I did not expect to be seeing Least Bittern chicks...they are masters of skulk, but I guess the young ones were still working on their mastery. This was a sweet sweet lifer for FJ, and a savory Marin County bird for me.

There were hordes of Common Gallinules out that day, with HY birds and chicks everywhere. I was dumbfounded when I saw this HY gallinule feeding a chick, which is obviously not its own (too young to breed). Maybe a sibling from a different brood? Anyone seen this before? One of the parent birds was very nearby and seemed ok with it. Photographed at the Las Gallinas Ponds.

This Cinnamon Teal hen was loafing in the sun with a few ducklings. The lighting was rough but it was too cute to not try for photos.  Photographed at the Las Gallinas Ponds.

We also saw this creature. Do you recognize it bellowing?

You probably recognize it, good for you. This Black-bellied Whistling-Duck was seen by birders for about a week on the east side of Santa Rosa before it disappeared. It is a troublesome bird, not because it was hard to find or because it attacked people with incapacitating whistles (I heard it whistle hella, and I remained capacitated), but because it is difficult to know where it came from.  It had no bands, no missing hallux. Could it be a natural vagrant? Maybe. Could it be an escaped bird? Maybe, but my source says it definitely did not come from Safari West, which houses myriad exotic animals. Photographed at Lake Ralphine, Santa Rosa.

The bird was hella tame, which some birders thought was indicative of a captive origin, though these birds are about as wary as your average park-dwelling coot or Mallard down in Texas.  I didn't find that very concerning. As the old saying goes, waterfowl can be wary or not depending on their location...my old Tufted Duck friend from Lake Merritt probably spent most of the year fleeing people on sight and the rest of the year swimming a couple feet away from horrible children hoping to be tossed a bread crumb. On one hand BBWD are notorious for being found far north of their normal range (mid-spring through early fall, generally), but on the other hand they don't have much of a pattern of occurrence for doing that in California. It's a tricky bird, more so (in my opinion) than the Gray Thrasher found in San Diego the same day, but a betting man would not put money on this bird getting a stamp of approval from The Bird Police. Such is birding.

A Breast of Bay...Where is the DICK?...#failurethrush

Many years ago, as a young and stupid birder (not #7), I went out to California's Kern County to check the desert oases for migrants. We ran into some birders who directed us to a singing male Black-throated Blue Warbler. That was pretty sick. Then we were told there was a male Bay-breasted Warbler over at Butterbredt Springs, so we cruised over there. And there it was, hopping around the shore of a pond like a goddamn Song Sparrow. And then someone found a Prairie Warbler, which was easy to relocate. How fucked up is that?

That was my introduction to spring vagrant hunting in California; it was an accidental discovery. No one really understands why we get almost all our spring vagrants at the end of May and beginning of June, but that is when they decide to come through. But that is not the point...the point is that I have not seen a breeding plumage Bay-breasted again until this spring, when a handful could be found on South Padre Island, Texas. Stoked.

Acadian Flycatcher was a bird I had only met briefly, on a nest somewhere in Missouri back in 2009. I was only able to find one this spring, but one is all it takes. It was confiding as fuck, and didn't even bother me with demands of pizza.

It's a pretty distinctive bird, if you ask me, and I am ready to find one in California. We are overdue. Photographed on South Padre Island, TX.

Dickcissel is a fun name. It's a name people can get behind. I think "dickcissel" is a horrible way to describe it's song, but it's a great name. For all those people who are thinking about making shirts or stickers that consist of simply a bird's banding code, I can't fathom why I haven't seen any DICK in production yet. It's the best. Photographed at South Padre Island, TX.

After seeing hundreds this spring, the plumage of an adult male in spring still doesn't make any sense to me. There is nothing like it north of Mexico. Hidalgo County, TX.

I don't think I've posted any Magnolia Warblers this year. Birders would be more aware of their facemelt abilities if they weren't hella common in a lot of places. This fully black-backed bird has reached a crippling peak of spring finery. South Padre Island, TX.

This one has the facemelt turned down a notch, but is ultimately a gratifying bird to be around.

This horrible, haggard thing that bears a faint resemblance to a Magnolia Warbler is not at all gratifying to be near. Sorry. South Padre Island, TX.

Bell's Vireo was one of the "best" self-found birds I had at South Padre Island this year. Unfortunately, when I posted it on eBird, I found out that someone had found it earlier that day. Don't you hate it when that happens? Oh well, it was a nice year bird and the only one reported from the region this spring.

And now we come to The Thrush of Failure. This Hermit Thrush spent a couple weeks at the convention center on South Padre Island. Hundreds of people saw it. It was quite comfortable foraging on a small stretch of lawn, and was not shy. The number of people I watched misidentify it was staggering. Many birders suffered a blow to their Global Birder Ranking System scores when confronted with this very typical member of it's species.

Granted, the other Catharus species are all more common here at this time of year, but this bird was practically begging to be identified correctly. The complete eye ring, extensive spotting, and a red tail all scream Hermit Thrush, and there were often Veery, Swainson's and Gray-cheeked Thrush all present at the same site to provide convenient comparisons. Does this thrush stand as a hopeful monument for the number of new (aka inexperienced) birders out there? Or is it a testament to the dismal future of birding?

Much has been said about female warblers....mostly stuff along the lines of "males are better looking, but females are ok". I don't have much to add to that conversation right now. Obviously, there is no species of warbler with distinct sexual dimorphism where one would actually prefer to observe a female over a male. Here is a female (perhaps first spring) Black-throated Green Warbler. South Padre Island, TX.

A male Black-throated Green Warbler is almost obscenely attractive, in comparison. South Padre Island, TX.

Let's face it...Empids are a bitch. It's not their fault...but it kind of is. Here is an unassuming Least Flycatcher, the most abundant Empidonax that migrates through south Texas (Traill's and Yellow-bellied were also easy to find this spring). South Padre Island, TX.

Here is the same bird, doing something that approaches an Alder Flycatcher imitation. Pardon my grain.

You don't have to pardon my grain for this one. Here is a Common Nighthawk. As you may know, I have beef with animals being called "common", and this one is no exception. Yes, it is the more widespread nighthawk species in the U.S., but you know there is no such thing as "Greater Nighthawk", right? So why does Lesser Nighthawk even exist? Right...Common Nighthawk should be called Greater Nighthawk, although I admit "Bullbat" would be pretty sweet. Willacy County, TX.

There is nothing like a good Caprimulgid crush, is there? I love all the different patterns these duders sport. It seems like they would clash, but the nighthawk pulls it off.

Isn't birding funny? I can remember when I first saw Black-bellied Whistling-Ducks in southeast Arizona, back in the 90s. It was a Really Big Deal for me. They were flighty and more than happy to keep their distance from us. Now in 2014, I crush them at point blank range, and don't raise an eyebrow when I drive by one perched on a roof or a powerline. Familiarity breeds contempt. South Padre Island, TX.

Everyone loves Least Bitterns, and I am no exception. They are relatively common in parts of south Texas, and don't require much effort to find at places like the convention center and birding center on South Padre Island, where this photo was taken.

The Celebrity Nightjar...The Nemesis Falls...Icterid Growth Hormone

Texas has been good to me so far, despite the internationally-recognized March Doldrums being in effect (I have not chased a single rarity and seen only a handful of spring migrants), entirely too much wind, and long work days that sap all my blog-creating juices. So to keep the cobwebs off BB&B, I offer you a Texas post.

Basically, I'm working a lot, but have time to explore new places, return to spots I haven't birded in years, and point my lens at a lot of things that have not seen my lens before. I have also discovered that although almost all food is cheaper here than in California, whisky is more expensive.

This Common Pauraque at Estero Llano Grande State Park has probably seen more photographers than any other bird, which should not come as a surprise. What a goatsucker! The patterns! The subtlety! I'm pretty sure I first saw pictures of it several years ago. It sits in the same spot every day, just a few feet off a well-used trail. It doesn't give a fuck. Everyone knows about this bird...so by all means marvel at its greatness, but whenever you see a good picture of a pauraque, don't give the photographer any credit whatsoever for finding it, stalking it, etc., because it's probably this bird.

This pauraque isn't quite as popular as popular as the bird(s) at Estero Llano Grande, but I'll take it. Photographed at Santa Ana National Wildlife Refuge.

Just down the trail from the pauraque at Estero Llano Grande, I finally met my Nemesis Bird. In case you didn't know, I have horrible luck with owls...until last week my heard-only list for owls was at 4 species (U.S.), which isn't really acceptable when you have no choice but to go around informing people that you are the #7 birder in the nation. Eastern Screech-Owl was not only something I've never been able to see, it's also something I'm 99.9% sure I saw in Wisconsin once but refused to count due to the pathetic quality of the observation. Finally, I can rest easy...until I realize what the next Nemesis is.

From what I gather, Eastern Screech-Owls are fairly common in the Lower Rio Grande Valley and are not particularly difficult to see. This bird also lives on a trail...I wonder how many unwitting birders walk by without noticing.

Black-bellied Whistling-Ducks abound here. They fly over my apartment every night and every morning on their way to and from feeding sites. By day, these are easy to find in large numbers...go to any disgusting body of water and you will see them. You show me a repulsive body of water and I will show you Black-bellied Whistling-Ducks. I've yet to see any Fulvous Whistling-Ducks down here, and I yearn for them...we haven't crossed paths in about 18 years or so. Photographed next to some gross ditch in Harlingen.

The mighty bellow of a Black-bellied Whistling-Duck sounds like an amplified version of a squeaky dog toy. Dixieland Park, Harlingen.

Though they are striking birds, their feet really set them apart from everything else. They are huge, muscular, and undeniably pink. It's not unusual to see them perched on powerlines early in the morning. Photographed over some terrible ditch in Harlingen.

Altamira Oriole, like most of its cousins, is a crippler. Like the species above, this is what draws birders to this strange and otherwise obscure corner of the country. They're not hard to find here in the Lower Rio Grande Valley, especially if there are feeders out. Photographed at Santa Ana National Wildlife Refuge.

Altamira Oriole is really burly. Though they are colored like many other orioles, they are built like they are on a strict diet of Icterid Growth Hormone. They have huge feet and a bill that's almost more like a grosbeak than an oriole.

Yellow-crowned Night-Heron. It's nice to be around so many different wading birds again! I must crush them. Estero Llano Grande State Park.