Great Glorious Gulling in San Mateo County

You knew it was coming...it was unavoidable. I don't think I've done a gull post since 2016. Is a full-blown Larid post in July appropriate? Not in the slightest, but here it is and here you are reading it. Don't worry, this should be better than a photo study of Ring-billed Gulls or some similar garbage.

The winter of 2016-2017 was quite good for California gullers. While the Ross's Gull was undoubtedly the undisputed highlight, a close second was the Black-tailed Gull that was seen in Monterey County (where Billy and I dipped the day the Ross's died) and then again in San Mateo County. That is what brought me to the mouth of Gazos Creek, where I found Terrills, Michael Park and other unidentified birders, but no Black-tailed. At least there were kittiwakes though.

Last winter was tremendous for Black-legged Kittiwakes in this part of the state, being seen from shore with regularity in many places. This was another bird I had missed entirely in 2016, but they were easy to find early this year. Seeing pelagic birds on shore really feels like cheating.

This was the second time I had dragged Billy and Annabelle (the first time in fetal form) out to dip on this Black-tailed Gull. Hopefully this event won't repeat itself again.

Luckily, kittiwakes were not the lone highlight of the day. This Lesser Black-backed Gull in Princeton Harbor (Denniston Creek Mouth) was a very nice consolation rarity. Despite their abundance in some parts of the continent, this is still a very rare bird in most of California. To give you an idea of how good the gulling was around this time, there were a minimum of 3 individual LBBGs in San Mateo County; in eBird, there is only one record in all prior years.

On another day, I lurked across the bay down to get my usual punishment at Pilarcitos Creek Mouth...this is a legendary gull spot where I have failed to see anything interesting year after year after year. This newly-arrived Allen's Humingbird was next to my car when I got out; a good omen?

I bumped into Ken Schneider, who let me know about a Glaucous Gull at the creek mouth. I arrived just as the bird peaced out to the northeast, possibly to visit one of the inland reservoirs.

I stuck around for a while, hoping something else of interest would stop in; this roost site is well-known for its high turnover of gulls. I felt the old familiar presence of rarities...but where were they? This attractive Glaucous hybrid (presumably Glaucous x Herring) dropped in to the flock, but that was not what I had on my mind.

Finally, a Vague Runt worth writing home about materialized...Laughing Gull! Like Lesser Black-backed, this is a Salton Sea specialty in California. Show me a Laughing Gull anywhere else in the state, and I will show you a damn rare bird.

Ok gull nerds...what do you think the bird in the center is? This is not a quiz, I honestly don't know. Note the bright red orbital ring, red gape, eye color, bill shape and pattern (see below as well). It superficially resembles a Herring Gull, but there are things "wrong" with it. Those are Mew Gulls in front and to the right, and a Western Gull on the left for comparison. The primaries are the typical four-year gull black with white apical spots. I did not see leg color, the bird disappeared almost immediately after I found it, flushed by wankers.

Lots of conflicting weirdness here.

You may have noticed a theme in this blog post so far...no, not the gulls, I'm talking about the shitty photos. Here is a decent kittiwake to help redeem myself. Speaking of shitty photos and redemption, let me betray a photographer's secret to all you noobs (n00bs)...if you want to convince everybody that you were born with a camera in your hand and that you are god's gift to nature photography, don't post shitty photos. Only post good ones. It's that simple. Fortunately for you and me both, I don't pretend to be a photographer, I just take photos. Some are good, most are not, but I will show it all...gross.

This kittiwake was bellowed at by an asshole Western Gull. Luckily, no harm was done.

This kittiwake demonstrated the classic pleasantness and unobtrusive nature characteristic of the species. The kittiwakes that morning were the most confiding I've seen south of Alaska.

It is also worth mentioning that at this site alone, over a couple different visits, I witnessed birders string Laughing Gull, Slaty-backed Gull, Lesser Black-backed Gull and Glaucous Gull. I appreciate that trying to identify rare gulls is an exercise in self-harm for many, but let's be careful out there friends.

After the unambiguous victory at Pilarcitos Creek (a first for me), I returned to Princeton Harbor to scour the Denniston Creek flock. Unambiguous success quickly turned into ambiguous success though when John Sterling and I got on this nice "Kumlien's" Iceland Gull. Note the lack of a tail band, which the bird was happy to display repeatedly.

The identification of this bird was actually not the ambiguous thing for once - it even has the dark "arrowheads" on the primaries, which don't tend to persist with a lot of wear. It was the classification that was problematic. At the time, rumor had it that Iceland Gull and Thayer's Gull were to be lumped in some fashion, a rumor which proved to be true...the AOS not only lumped them, it smashed the Kumlien's subspecies into oblivion. So, instead of this being a kumlieni Iceland Gull (a Bird Police species in California), officially this bird is now considered an intergrade between the thayeri and glaucoides subspecieseseseseseseses of Iceland Gull.

That's it on the left, showing the tail and wing pattern one would expect on a kumlieni thayeri x glaucoides intergrade. So for now I have put this bird on the shelf, no point in sending it to the Bird Police.

Here is a somewhat bleached Iceland Gull (formerly known as Thayer's...crap, this is going to take some getting used to) with a very white base color, but still showing the contrasting dark secondaries and darker primaries typical of thayeri.

Oh, and in case you are wondering, I spent a great deal of time looking for Slaty-backed Gulls in February and early March without success, but at least I had some other good birds to show for it. The San Mateo County coast offers some of the best gulling in the Lower 48, hopefully next winter can come close to matching the glory of the last. 

The Human Birdwatcher Project Presents: Big Year Fatigue

This Buller's Shearwater was photographed in 2012, off Half Moon Bay, CA. We had a great many of them that day, which I don't think has happened in a few years here. My YOHOMBSLBFTINFOLF is currently without this species.

For some reason, rabid county listing in all 58 of California counties sounds inane and empty to me. No offense, just being honest. Why anyone would want to drive hours to chase a locally uncommon bird in Amador instead of putting that time and money towards a trip to a Nome or a Oaxaca or a Cuba or a Ecuador is beyond me. I do not care if you have seen Surf Scoter in 20 inland counties, especially if none of those birds were self-found.

I have never been one to really bash county listing or any other kind of listing though. As far as I know, no one appreciates day birds and trip birds more than me. I list the hell out of things, but year birds...I can really get behind year birds. Doesn't it seem like a good idea to try and see a species once a year? It is, I assure you. I love yearbirding, even though the last time I did any sort of big year was almost 20 years ago. I set the Ventura County big year record back when I was still a minor (which was subsequently demolished the next year), so I've got a little bit of history with this.

Yearbirding, of course, goes hand in hand with full-fledged big years, and in the U.S. you can't talk about big years without bringing up ABA big years. The Great Ornithologist Felonious Jive and I were talking about this very thing the other day, and Felonious had some interesting thoughts on the subject. I suggested that he put a post up, and this is what he had to say. Remember, if you finish this post fuming and butthurt, please direct all animosity toward Felonious. - Seagull Steve

With 2016 now well in the rearview, what has also passed in birding circles is the constant chatter of what the 4 ABA big year birders were doing last year. To cut to the chase...it is somehow a relief to not be hearing about so and so flying from Alaska to Florida and back to Alaska to get a few ticks, and to not read some sort of rubbish about it being some mystical, spiritual journey. I know that I'm not the only one who has lost my appetite for this sort of thing. I've never been one to get very excited about ABA big years, but they always seemed interesting to some degree. However, by the end of 2016, I was over it entirely. I had Big Year Fatigue.

In 2013 I found myself crushing this Black-capped Flycatcher in Costa Rica's Talamancas. I can rest assured that I will not see one of these for my YOHOMBSLBFTINFOLF that I'm doing this year.

I don't care what anyone's ABA list is, be it one put together in a year or within a lifetime. Those who have really high ABA lists generally have access to wealth, or are tour guides, or both. Sure, if you have 800+ species I am going to be envious of some of your experiences, but it's not like I equate one's list size with happiness. I could actually argue that the inverse of this is true...but that is for another time.

In 2016 I found myself going back to the same topics repeatedly whenever big years came up in conversation, and Seagull Steve thought it was time I shared them with a wider audience. I present them to you now, not as birding gospel but merely birding food for birding thought.

Conservation: Birding in all its forms is great, but conservation is more important. Without conservation, there is no birding, only evil and Rock Pigeons. Personally, if I was going to spend a whole year and a great deal of money birding and burning gas, I couldn't do it without some kind of conservation tie-in. Most big year birders don't do this, though I know at least one ABA yearbirder put his money where his mouth was last year. I respect that. In other cases, it seems like conservation was given lip service and nothing more. Conversation is great, but it's not the same thing as conservation.

Time: A Big Year on an ABA level, or in a big birdy state like California, requires you to be birding constantly. There are very few stretches that are not conducive to adding birds that you might not see again for the rest of the year. It's essentially a full-time job when you figure in the absurd amount of travel time it is necessary to put in, so you have to be in the envious position of being retired or unemployed, or have a job that will let you take a lot of leave for an entire year yet somehow pays well enough to finance this absurd pursuit. Most of us aren't lucky enough to have this kind of time, which is one reason why I find really ambitious big years somewhat difficult to relate to.

White-tailed Hawks were nice to see on the regular back in 2014. Though my YOHOMBSLBFTINFOLF features a modest number of hawks, this hawk is not included. Photographed in McCook, Hidalgo County, Texas.

$$$: Money is a huge factor in big years. It's a lot like politics...the more money you have to spend, the more likely it is you will have success. Think about it...for the typical ABA Big Year, you are taking dozens of flights, with destinations from Gambell to Miami, St. Johns to San Diego. The costs of flights, lodging, tours, gas, rentals must be astronomical. Even if you are doing a Big Year on a state level, you are putting a great number of miles on your car...the costs of constant frantic birding can add up in a big way, no matter what the scale. A large pool of disposal income, another thing most of us do not have access to, is highly conducive to the kind of success you can achieve, though obviously not everyone who does a big year drops in on a rarity with a golden parachute and silver spoon in hand.

Social constraints: Some birders exist in a vacuum...no sick relative to help, no significant other, no close friends nearby that would be missed. No children to raise, or they are already grown and out of the house. Some people never find themselves in a position to do a big year, even if they have the time and money. The big year birder is either very fortunate in this regard, or they have little regard for other people (a common trait in birders).

In 2015, I picked up this nice male Yellow-bellied Sapsucker early in the year. No such luck for my ongoing YOHOMBSLBFTINFOLF. Photographed at Casto Valley Regional Park, Castro Valley, CA.

Reputation: If you are going to do a serious big year, whether it be in a single county or for the entire planet, you want to have the respect of your peers. You are probably trying to set some kind of record, after all. If that is the case, you should be a good birder. I don't think that is a controversial thing to say, but there are not many people out there saying it in public...but hey, that's what BB&B is here for, right? Right. There are records and all involved here that a lot of folks actually take seriously and for this reason, stringers should not be doing big years. However, with the Dunning-Kruger effect in play, we can't exactly expect birders to be policing themselves in this matter. It is also preferable that when you are using tour guides (inevitable in a ABA big year) that you can actually identify the birds that the guides are showing you. Just because your guide saw that Willow Warbler well doesn't mean you can automatically count it. Well you totally can, but in case no one has told you yet, that is really lame.

Hype: We heard about 2016's ABA big year birders constantly from both interested folks and from some of the birders themselves, who varied in their self-promotional habits between seemingly doing none at all (a breath of fresh air) to constantly making themselves as visible as possible online. It's true that if you portray yourself as a big deal that some people will actually believe you...just look at Seagull Steve, the #7 birder in the United States. He would know.

As I said, big year birders are highly variable in the amount of attention they want to draw to themselves...it would not be fair of me at all to try to make any sweeping generalizations about that. I mean, compare the press of Noah Strycker's world big year with Arjan Dwarshuis'. Do you even know who Arjan is? If not, that illustrates my point perfectly...he saw hundreds more species than Noah did in 2016, completely demolishing Noah's impressive record set the year before. Yet there was almost no buzz around what Arjan was doing, at least not in 'murica. So you can go about your business like Arjan did, or have people create buzz for you like Noah did, or you can really make it about yourself and pull some Swallowgate tactics. I think I prefer the under the radar style, but maybe relentless attempts for attention are more your thing.

The book: Many a big year birder has gone on to write a book. This is now about as predictable as Sanderlings flying north in spring and south in fall. While everyone always welcomes a Sanderling when it arrives, the same cannot be said about another big year book. It's a cliché, let's be honest. I'm not saying that all these books are terrible or even bad at all, but it seems like behind almost every big year is a book being written. How many more of these books, which by necessity have the exact same plot, will be written? Of course, many speaking engagements will be planned as well....there's no publicity for a birder like a big year.

I've seen a modest number of green birds, and Mexican Parrotlet is by far the most leaf-like. There are two of them in this photo, you know. I have not yet seen this species for the current YOHOMBSLBFTINFOLF. Photographed in 2016 at Lower Singayta, Nayarit, Mexico.

The big year modifier: Speaking of clichés...as a leading tastemaker in birding, I officially am announcing that the phrase "little big year" has been a tired and uninteresting cliché for a long time, a long time. Just like I put an end to the phrase "Birds have wings. They use them.", it is now time that we put little big years on the proverbial shelf for a couple decades so some of their freshness may be restored. Consider some alternatives, such as shitty big year, fake big year, regular year, modest big year, kinda large year, swollen but not uncomfortably so year, or call it what it usually is...YOHOMBSLBFTINFOLF (Year Of Hopefully Observing Many Bird Species Locally Because Frequent Travel Is Not Financially Or Logistically Feasible).

I do have one resoundingly positive thing to say about the 2016 ABA big years though - the big year deathmarch did have one unique aspect to it. It was not a well-kept secret that the big year birders were not one big happy family, which two of them acknowledged repeatedly on their respective blogs. BB&B, being who we are, fully endorses this. Fear and loathing? Allegations of stringing? Bitter birding rivalries? Where?! Point the way! While some leading birders attempt to portray birdwatchers as one big happy family, BB&B has no such illusions. That's why you are here now. So thanks, 2016 ABA yearbirders, for keeping it real.

Black-legged Kittiwake was a bird I didn't get to see last year, but luckily they were readily available to gobble up for this year's YOHOMBSLBFTINFOLF! Photographed earlier this year at the Pilarcitos Creek mouth, Half Moon Bay, CA.

No need to go on forever about this, I've said my piece. I'm not against big years, I just am not really excited about them anymore, at least on the scale of the ABA Area. Perhaps there are more interesting things to be excited about, no need to get offended. Maybe the fatigue will wear off. At least there is one thing about big years we can all agree on...despite the crazy-good cast, The Big Year was a major disappointment. It sure gave birding a lot of publicity though!

Winter Birding In Humboldt: Pipers of Rock to Suckers of Sap

Winter birding in Humboldt County is always rewarding, with a little effort.  Even on days when you want to bash your own skull in with a rock because you did not see BRAMBRING, the birding is solid.  One of the spots worth checking is the North Jetty of Humboldt Bay, which is where everyone goes for seawatching and rockpipers.  The South Jetty is equally as good, but it takes a hell of a long time to get out there in comparison.  One of my favorite non-BRAMBRINGs species we saw was Rock Sandpiper, which are hella localized in California.

Even though there are always, without exception, Rock Sandpipers at the mouth of Humboldt Bay in the winter, that doesn't mean you will actually see one.  They are fickle birds...go at the wrong tide and you have a good chance of dipping.  I maintain that low tides are best, but I suspect not everyone is in agreement about that.  At any rate, not only did we see Rock Sandpipers, we saw fearless Rock Sandpipers, which were valiantly trying to take the notion of "confiding" birds to a whole new level.

I've never had such good looks at one, even in the Aleutian Islands where they are common. Confiding rockpipers are not unusual on the jetty....along with Rock Sandpipers, Surfbirds and Black Turnstones are common in winter, and a few Black Oystercatchers are often around as well.  In migration, Ruddy Turnstones and Wandering Tattlers join the party.

Here is a second individual, with more white above the eye, enjoying some salt spray.

Although not a pelagic bird, Rock Sandpipers likely go for months at a time without ever having fresh water available to drink.  While this bird looks like it is experiencing a catastrophic, possibly lethal sneeze, it's actually just expelling salt water filtered out by the salt glands in its head.

The humble Surfbird is always popular with birders who don't get to the west coast very often.  It is a basic, utilitarian bird, lacking any bells and whistles.  Birds in alternate plumage are very striking, but for much of the year Surfbirds are fiercely loyal devotees to The Economy of Style.

This sculpin is not stoked, which you can probably deduce by its horrible facial expression and the fact that it is on land...something it likely has not suffered through before.  It is experiencing a long, painful, drawn out death at the hands of this interestingly marked gull.

While much of this gull leaves the impression that it came out of the Western Gull factory (black primaries, yellow orbital ring, dark back), the amount of duskiness on the head, back, and side of the neck seems excessive for a Western...on the back, it looks like there is some horizontal barring.  I think this Western Gull has some Glaucous-winged Gull components.

For those of you distressed about the doom of the sculpin, I offer you some comfort: we will all end up this way.  That is the way of things.  The way of the sculpin.

Unlike the sculpin-gobbling beast above, this Olympic Gull is not disguising itself as a Western.

Black-legged Kittiwakes are reliable from North Jetty in the winter, and they are not unusual to see inside Humboldt Bay either.  This is a very tough bird to get from shore south of Humboldt County, so go to the jetty and enjoy them...no scope required.  There were also a handful of Ancient Murrelets further out this day, and all three species of scoter.  Not bad.  Don't go out there when the surf is big though, as you can be swept off and drown.  Not joking.

We did ok with some other local rarities, relocating a Tricolored Blackbird and Loggerhead Shrike, but the highlight for me was this Red-naped Sapsucker at College of the Redwoods.  This was a sight for sore eyes, as besides dipping on BRAMBRING we had also dipped on the 2 Red-naped Sapsuckers that were living in the same neighborhood.

This bird was easy to find and hella cooperative.  Interesting to me was how the throat pattern on the left side of the bird was classic for Red-naped (muddled black and red border), while the right side of bird featured a typical Yellow-bellied pattern...which is not suggestive of anything, I think, except that sapsuckers are variable.

It's a striking bird, no?  Even in the daze of a catastrophic dip, birding in Humboldt can always lift the spirits.  

Death To The Perpetual Weekend

An immaculate looking Ring-billed Gull. Look at that orbital ring! Lake Merritt, CA.

Well, this it...Bourbon, Bastards and Birds' final transmission from the beloved bay area. I've been here since September, living The Perpetual Weekend...but as a seasonally-employed biologist, my departure has been pre-ordained. In fact, I have not stayed ever stayed here this late into spring...so although it pains me to do so, I must go.

Here's a smattering of shots taken from the last several weeks. Have a positive weekend!

It's been a good year for Black-legged Kittiwakes in California. A lot of them have been spending time in Humboldt Bay, like this one, where they can conveniently be watched and photographed from shore. King Salmon,CA.

Tidal slough at sunset. Arcata Marsh, CA.

Hordes of Aleutian Cackling Geese are staging on the northwest coast this time of year. Strange to think that this subspecies used to be listed as endangered! Humboldt Bay National Wildlife Refuge, CA.

A Bewick's Wren assumes classic Bewick's Wren posture. Albany Bulb, CA.

Just what the blogosphere needed, another picture of an American Robin. I really like this picture for some reason, I think the catkins add a lot of depth. Humboldt Bay National Wildlife Refuge.

Shorebirds wheel, lurk and generally amass on some east bay mudflats. Albany Bulb.

Although there are many signs of spring in the air, many wintering species like this Lesser Scaup are still holding down the bay area. Lake Merritt.

Unlike the scaup, the local Canvasback population has plummeted recently...they have begun to wing their way back to the prairies for the summer. Lake Merritt.

I'm not sure if I've ever put one of these on BB&B before...it's a California Towhee. Heinously common for some readers, strange and exotic for others. Albany Bulb.

Horned Grebes in different stages of molt. Last time I went out a lot of Eared and Horned Grebes were coming into breeding plumage or, in the case of Clark's and Westerns, already doing courtship displays. Lake Merritt.

Another first for BB&B..behold the Brant. Humboldt Bay is one of their most important staging and wintering sites in California. King Salmon.

August in the Aleutians

Birders drool at the thought of seeing a Horned Puffin. Birders in the Aleutians drool because they are so common and boring. Ok thats not true...the puffins never get old, even after seeing them every day for months. They finish nesting really late in the summer so right now they are probably very busy bringing fish back to their fat fluffy chicks.

This picture is totally not from August, sorry. By now almost all the Least Auklets will be out at sea, as they finish up nesting and fledging pretty early. It's sad when you are out clambering around on Buldir Island's Main Talus and have no auklets for company...you are accompanied by a hole in your heart instead. Note the Crested Auklet and Least Auklet doing weird things in the background.

Aleutian Cackling Geese spend weeks higher up on the island while they molt their flight feathers...by August they have mysteriously reappeared near the coast. I think the front birds are juveniles.

The view from the front door of the cabin. Or, more obnoxiously, "my office".

July and August are stressful because you are just fiending for rare shorebirds (like this Red-necked stint) to appear. Rare birds, especially of the Aleutian caliber, have an addictive quality.

Some Tufted Puffins mingle above a Thick-billed Murre colony. No big deal.

Red-legged Kittiwake battle. So intense. I think those are Black-legged Kittiwake wings sticking out in back.

Black-legged Kittiwakes. Some juveniles (foreground) should be fledging by now.

Aleutian Song Sparrow. I don't know what else to say about them, except that I'm glad they were there. It's weird to not be around Song Sparrows. These are big and dark.

Scumbag.