Pawnee National Grasslands Part I

Colorado. That's what I had been blogging about before my computer died. Now that I have a new one, blogging can resume! Of course it's September now, so there is a great deal to catch up on, but BB&B does not quit. Especially now that there are so few of us left, and very few of us remain to carry the blogging torch, we must persevere...

Which is not important for our purposes...not today at least. So back in July, after a great victory with the White-tailed Ptarmigan, we quit the Rockies for flatter ground. I had heard about the expansive prairies of Pawnee National Grassland for my entire birding life, and I finally got to bird it. After assisting a jackrabbit with its suicide (second lagomorph species I killed on this trip, the first without using a rock) with the wheel of our rental car, we were out on the auto tour route of the grasslands. Billy immediately found this Solitary Sandpiper, one of the few shorebirds we saw on the whole trip.

The first prairie dog town we came up on had a number of Burrowing Owls, which were pleasantly common on this day. Here are a couple of juveniles checking us out from the safety of a burrow entrance. I've heard much about how Burrowing Owls love prairie dog towns, so it was pretty cool to finally see this relationship in action.

Slowly we began to see more and more birds along the road. In many parts of the Grasshopper Sparrow's range, it requires much effort to actually see them. That is not true at Pawnee, where they were also pleasantly common. Here is a streaky (by Grasshopper Sparrow standards) juvenile.

Another juvenile, though it looks a bit older than the above bird.

The abundance of Grasshopper Sparrows was definitely due, in part, to the crop of juvenile birds littering the roadsides. Here is an adult bird, with bright yellow lores.

It did not take long for Lark Buntings to start popping up. Lark Bunting is Colorado's state bird, and a very good one at that. Adult females like this one can be very striking, though they lack the crippling effect adult males can often have on an observer.

Juvenile Lark Bunting, a life plumage. Pink legs...I didn't know that color belonged on a Lark Bunting...but even the #7 U.S. birder may be surprised. The birder who is no longer surprised is not an experienced birder, no...it is a dead birder.

Though it was late July and juvenile birds were out in force, we did see plenty of males owning the Economy of Style. A couple were even doing display flights, which I had only seen once before. Prairie birding is so fucking good...

This Common Nighthawk chose a photogenic roosting site. Thank you, nighthawk.

All these other birds were great, but I was frothing at the mouth to see some longspurs. Longspurs, lonspurs, longspurs...as a Californian, we get a taste of them, but all too often it is just a tease. Laplands are always a good bird, albeit expected in certain areas, but Chestnut-collareds are extremely erratic, McCown's is a great bird, and Smith's is a MEGUH. Even if we do get to see 'spurs here, all too often we are forced to settle with absolute bullshit looks. I hadn't seen a McCown's in years, and never outside of California, so this was pretty much my main target bird of the day, even though they are relatively common at Pawnee. Eventually we found an area thick with them, and had a flock on the road next to the car, with a couple females (above) and a bunch of juveniles.

Juvenile longspurs are not a strong suit for most birders. The first time I saw a juvenile Lapland (in the western Aleutians), it caused complete and total brainfreeze. If someone would have asked me what it was right after I got on the bird, I probably would have responded with "Durrrrrrrr". A couple of these juveniles brought that Durrrrrr feeling back, but this is indeed a juvenile McCown's, another life plumage.

Seeing a flock of these charismatic (and probably rapidly declining) birds flopping around in the road in front of me was like plunging a syringe full of heroin into my arm for the first time really cool. The birding gods smiled upon me. But the day was not over yet...more to come in the next post.

Apalling Postage Rates...A Detour For Cripple...Confronting and Lurking

That's it. Fall is over. Birds like Prothonotary Warblers are a thing of the past. High vagrant season is dead in much of the country. How was it for you? It was mighty fine for myself, thanks for asking. Sure I couldn't chase the Groove-billed Ani, and no I didn't skip work for the White Wagtail, and yes I hate the Northern Gannet...but at least there wasn't an Olive-backed Pipit taunting me down in Irvine. Lifers were had, a state bird was enjoyed, and rare birds found themselves in my binoculars on the regular.

That all said, I find my frequency/infrequency of blog posts appalling. What I've been doing...it's just not enough. This 40 hour workweek stuff...it's horseshit. Talk about a blogging obstacle. The Perpetual Weekend certainly seems like a thing of the past now...can you believe people actually like doing this prolonged and sustained wage slavery? Sure it can be great if you can get outside enough, but that is not what I'm doing. Anyways, I feel guilty about the blogging apathy so I had to get that out. I guess I just have to relax and think about Prothonotary Warblers.

Prothonotary Warbler is a nice thing to think about, but an even better thing to be looking at. This was an excellent bonus bird. I woke up in Oakland one morning, took BART to San Francisco, looked at a Mourning Warbler, took BART back to Oakland, then drove down to Santa Barbara for the night. This crippler was just a few miles off the freeway in Goleta, and cripple it did. Detours are best when your face is left melted off.

Look. It's devouring something.

One thing that SoCal has that the bay area seems to be lacking in is lerps. Lerps are psyllids that live off Eucalyptus, which is fine because Eucs are not native and lerps attract rare birds. The psyllid nymps excrete this crud that ends up making a white, sugary capsule on a leaf, and insectivores are all about it. Maybe the weather is not lerpy enough up here, or perhaps it's just a matter of time before they arrive in force.

Gulf fritillary is an attractive (bordering facemelting, actually), common butterfly in SoCal; it is one of the first butterflies I learned to identify as a kid. Cool story, I know. Ventura, CA.

Cooper's Hawk is a common bird, but they are much appreciated when they abide. You already know this, of course. Ormond Beach, Oxnard, CA.

Here is a dead Lincoln's Sparrow. The yellow thing on its head is a yellowjacket, which is contentedly eating the sparrows face. The sparrow was out in the middle of a dry pond and looked like it was in good condition aside from the missing head flesh. What is most notable about the mysterious corpse-sparrow is that, about an hour and a half after taking this photo, I SAW A FUCKING DUSKY WARBLER. A Dusky Warbler! So rare! So Siberian! A life bird! I predictably got poor looks, but at least I saw its rare face and got to hear its Vague Runt voice over and over again. There had not been a chaseable one in the state for a number of years, so this was an immensely appreciated new bird for me...a true birder's bird. Redwood Creek, Marin County, CA.

Black-bellied Plover is a not a birder's bird, as they are loud, relatively large, and extremely common. The question is, how come I can never crush them like this when they are in alternate plumage? Do they just know to be more coy when they ditch their dingy winter suit? That's what it seems like. Arrowhead Marsh, Oakland, CA.

This Grasshopper Sparrow surprised me when it hopped up on the paved sidewalk. Hanging out a stone's throw away from San Francisco Bay is not appropriate for a Grasshopper Sparrow, but this was a very inappropriate bird. Photographed at Arrowhead Marsh.

I hella like Grasshopper Sparrows and other grassland birds in general, especially after my time in North Dakota. They really know how to work the Economy of Style visually, if not vocally (see meadowlarks, Sprague's Pipit, Upland Sandpiper, etc.).

As most birders in this half of the state know by now, Arrowhead Marsh is the place to go to see Ridgway's Rail. It's just so...easy. They saturate the place. All the loud, grunting in unison...it's just punishing.

Ridgway's Rails may like to hang in the cover of thick saltmarsh, but when they come out (which they inevitably do) they can be pretty accommodating. Being confronted with Ridway's Rails is a pleasurable experience, considering how endangered this subspecies is and the small range they occupy, which is essentially San Francisco Bay.

Lurking.

So Long North Dakota...enshrouded in Lark Buntings....The Road to Yellowstone

This Tiger Salamander was crossing the road as I was leaving Lostwood for the last time. Nice smile.

Sleepy Lark Bunting.

The moment you have been waiting for has arrived. Not only am I unemployed, I am back in San Francisco where I have nothing but time. The halcyon days of five blog posts a week (is that overkill?) are once again within reach....as is almost anything the heart desires...this is San Francisco, after all.

Right. In the spirit of catching up, I left North Dakota a couple weeks ago as my seasonal job monitoring Piping Plover productivity (i.e. numbers of nests that hatch and chicks that fledge, for you nonbirders) was finished. Since I was going back to California, I decided it was best to make my way to Yellowstone National Park...alternately known as "The American Serengheti" (according to the National Park Service) and "A Fucking Zoo" (according to a friend, referring to the tourists).

Another Lark Bunting. Not something a Californian sees much of.

Juvenile Grasshopper Sparrows are pretty striking...for a sparrow.

After living in rural North Dakota for months, I was totally ready for large mammals and not afraid of tourists...I hadn't stood in a crowd all summer. Intrepidly, I set out westward, back through Montana...

And there was not much to tell about that. I took one random road in the hope of finding some McCown's Longspurs, which I haven't seen in a few years...I think I may have flushed some with a flock of Horned Larks, but identifying birds flying directly away from you is not a terribly accurate strategy. I did run into a bunch of Lark Buntings though, which are not very common in North Dakota, and a good number of Grasshopper Sparrows to boot.

Horned Lark. They don't usually appear so shrunken-headed.

The next day I was en route to Yellowstone, heading towards the northeast entrance, going through the facemelting Gallatin National Forest en route. The scenery was phenoms. And so began my constant wishing that I had more time to bird/explore the area...

More on all that next time. Until then, perhaps you should brush up on whats happening over at 10,000 Birds or at my friend Dan Maxwell's blog right here. He is living just a few miles from me on the Farallon Islands, but will probably see, how do you say, "hella" more rare birds than me this fall because that happens to be one of the best places to bird on the West Coast. Don't let his blatant misidentification of a Blackburnian Warbler put you off, he is typically not a sketchy birder.

Day breaks above treeline. Crushing scenery northeast of Yellowstone, easily comparable with whats in the park. Gallatin National Forest, MT.

A strange creature from another kingdom. Gallatin National Forest, MT.

Golden-mantled Ground-Squirrels. Squirreling. Gallatin National Forest, MT.

This Mundane Tyranny of Mediocrity

Grasshopper Sparrow. Redmond Lakes, ND.

Congratulations, Bourbon, Bastards and Birds community, for making it through another season with me. As with much of the North Dakotan birdlife, my urge to migrate is quite strong. The Willets and godwits (marbled variety) that harassed me so much earlier in the summer have mostly left for the West Coast already, and their migration path appeals to me....so I will be triumphantly rejoining them in California by the end of the month. With less than a week left and plover work completely wrapped up, its time to sit back, try to eat all the food I have left, dip into the the beer cache, sip on some whiskey and contemplate . 

Who am I kidding? With most field jobs, I generally just want to get the hell out by the time I'm done. All of the contemplating I'll be doing consists of devious plotting for the upcoming months.

Lesser Yellowlegs. Des Lacs NWR, ND.



Now that the Grey-hooded Gull has moved along, The Birdosphere has been pretty quiet lately. People have been sticking to the the tried and true ground of going birding, taking some pictures, and writing about it. Everyone seems to be excited that shorebirds are on their way south, and that the infamous "summer doldrums" are quickly giving away to fall migration, which many consider the most crippling time of year in terms of finding vagrants. No bird scandals to speak of really, aside from low level discussions on Common Gallinule vs. Common Moorhen, both regarding how to tell the two apart and the names themselves. Personally, I think we New Worlders lucked out getting the Gallinule...it's just such a birder's name. 

North Dakota, people, North Dakota. And a bunch of ducks that cant fly.

Of course, The Great Ornithologist Felonious Jive and I have taken a brave nomenclatic (thats not a word is it? whatevs.) stand against the word "common". What does that mean? We here at BB&B are completely against any bird having the word "common" in their name. Its degrading and misleading, and about as interesting as what you flush down the toilet after your first cup of coffee in the morning. If the American Ornithologists Union had any sort of taste or tact, they would immediately strike down the adjective "common" from every North American bird...it is useless for birders and bad PR for the birds themselves.

For example...take the Northern Beardless-Tyrannulet. They are one of the most nondescript birds on the continent. Who thinks its a good idea to rename them "Common Flycatcher?" They certainly can be common in some areas. So lets do it!

No. That is a damn poor idea. I would not hesitate to bet that birders want to see this obscure bird that much more, simply because of the strange and ridiculous name.

A wee Northern Harrier. Not yet a finely-tuned killing machine. Still mostly just good at looking innocent and slightly concerned. Lostwood NWR, ND.

Most of the birds pictured today have decent, semi-accurate names. Grasshopper Sparrows do indeed sound like insects, and spend most of their lives in grasslands. Lesser Yellowlegs are the smaller of the two yellowlegs...a boring name, but an accurate description. Piping Plovers do pipe, and the name invokes their innate cuteness as well. Ruddy Ducks are ruddy colored ducks, Northern Harriers do occur in the north and they do harry. Cedar Waxwings.....well the cedar part is bullshit but it is a nice sounding tree (wait...is it because it's cedar colored???? Ahhh!!!!!!!). Anyways. Let's call that a 5/6 on names.


Now imagine all these birds with "Common" in their name. Disgusting, isn't it? "Common Sparrow"? My god, that is obscene.


So that seems to be where we are ending up today. Write your local AOU representative and give them a piece of your mind. Together we can bring an end to this mundane tyranny of mediocrity!!!!

Juvenile Piping Plovers. Redmond Lakes, ND.

Ruddy Duck with...ducklets. Near Redmond Lakes, ND.

Cedar Waxwing. Lostwood NWR, ND.

Medicine Lake, Montana

Chestnut-collared Longspur. It looks like it was created by a demented anime artist. They know how to light up a prairie.

In June I got the hell out of North Dakota for a day and hung out at Medicine Lake National Wildlife Refuge, in eastern Montana. It was a very birdy place with a lot of good access to prairie, lake and slough habitat and I was blinded more than once by some of the avian goodness there. If you get the chance, go! Here's a few of the birds there.

Grasshopper Sparrow, another grassland obligate. Grasshopper and Baird's Sparrows easily outnumber Savannah Sparrows in parts of the refuge. 

American White Pelicans have a big nesting colony at the lake, although I wonder if its not doing well this year due to high water levels.

Said pelican colony.

Brewer's Blackbird in butterfly disguise.

Medicine Lake has Lark Buntings! Yet another awesome prairie bird with a crazy flight display.

This Eastern Kingbird goes by "The MULE". He even trademarked it. What a badass.

Double-crested Cormorants nest on the lake as well. This adult was lacking any breeding plumes, but was still pretty sharp-looking.

A modest male Wilson's Phalarope upsets traditional gender-roles.

Franklin's and Ring-billed Gulls.

Birders don't pay a lot of attention to Western Meadowlarks, but between their golden voices and sweet outfits I think they're winners. They're also North Dakota's state bird, which is totes appropes.