September in Mono County

The Grub directed us to camp at the Lundy Canyon Campground, operated by Mono County. We had a great site and it was nice and quiet EXCEPT for the first night, when some woman at the edge of the campground made terrifying shrieks and screams at the top of her lungs...she sounded like she had just come upon a grisly murder scene, or was getting stabbed over and over again. It really sounded animalistic and was very unnerving. Grub and I investigated but did not actually go knock on her camper as things still seemed very weird, but at least we discerned that no one had been stabbed to death (or stabbed at all). I think she was having a bad trip on something - Grub pointed out it was Burning Man season, and this location was in the post-burn dispersal path - but who knows what the truth is? Anyways, lots of Mountain Chickadees at the campsite...unlike hallucinogens, Mountain Chickadees are always pleasant.

How is that for an opening caption? Some more explanation is required...in September we took a family trip to the east side of the Sierras to hang out in one of my favorite parts of the state, Mono County. It's a weird place (see above, for example). There is good birding, facemelting scenery, and aside from a few places, not a whole lot of people. We met up with a couple friends of the blog: Alexis (Arexis), who is responsible for entirely shaping my fate, and famed east side financer, The Grub, who BB&B has spoken with at length (most recently here). Mono County is the part time home of The Grub, everyone's favorite venture capitalist and bitcoin miner, who lives in a junkyard there during the warm months. I don't mean to say he has a shitty house there (his house is in Nevada), I mean he lives in an actual junkyard. The Grub is, of course, the richest person you and I know, but he shuns the mansion and the Mercedes for a tent and Pinyon Jays. He is, after all, an artist, and that just complicates things further.

Despite all of The Grub's financial success, he would be nowhere without The Great Ornithologist Felonious Jive, which at least he readily acknowledges. Knowing how close I am with Felonious, Grub was more than happy to help us track down a Black-backed Woodpecker, so he took us to Inyo Craters, where they have reliably seen most of the year. It was my first time there, and was a fruitful stop.

The White-breasted Nuthatches at Inyo Craters are the interior subspecies (Sitta carolinensis tenuissima), which sound very different from my backyard birds here in San Jose (S. c. aculeata). You may recall that it wasn't long ago when the AOS considered splitting WBNU three different ways, these two subspecies and the eastern birds...I suspect that this potential split may be revisited at some point. In the meantime, for a nice breakdown of the distribution of S. c. tenuissima and S. c. aculeata in California, look here.

Here in California, it's a Red-breasted Nuthatch invasion year! What a relief, it has been a while. I've only had a few in my 5MR but they were very common at many sites in Mono County during our visit.

Williamson's Sapsuckers are a true high elevation specialty bird and just too great to ever really get accustomed to. They are more distinct than the other sapsuckers in plumage, genetics (they don't hybridize willy-nilly), and habitat preferences. This one was more cooperative than most.

After not seeing one in about a decade, it was relief to not wait very long to find a Black-backed Woodpecker near the parking lot. We would go on to see a total of three, and heard two more! My personal Black-backed dam that has been building for the last decade has finally burst. I thought it was interesting that this area has so many Black-backeds, as there is no sign of any fire, and these birds are known fire followers. Other birds of note here included Red Crossbills and a Band-tailed Pigeon.

See? Scenic. Not that phone photos really do the place justice. This is Minaret Vista, just outside the entrance to Devil's Postpile National Monument.

Green-tailed Towhees were abundant...which is ideal, considering they are the best towhee and one of the few green birds in the west. Still hoping to get the ultimate crush of one of these, maybe next time.

We were too late for most wildflower species, although rabbitbrush was blooming all over the place. Here is one of the year's last blazing star blossoms, somewhere in the sage flats near Mono Lake.

This aquatic thing was blooming mightily up in a few patches at the Lundy Canyon beaver ponds. Nerds, tell me what this is please.

Annie had her Mono Lake baptism, which she really enjoyed. Once she realized all the black stuff was a mass of flies she was slightly put off but was happy to wade around nonetheless. She did appreciate the brine shrimp.

Other than Black-backed Woodpecker, this is the bird I had my heart set on seeing. Like the woodpecker, I had only seen Greater Sage-Grouse once before, about a decade ago. After dipping hard on Gunnison Sage-Grouse earlier this year, I had a serious grouse itch (grouse-itch) that just had to be scratched. Luckily, Arexis found a flock for us at Bodie, which allowed for great looks.

So, so sick. Behold the majestic grouse surveying its domain. A supremely satisfying birdwatching experience.

Bodie State Park is an isolated ghost town, way out in the sagebrush north of Mono Lake and not far from Nevada. It was my first time there, and pretty fun to walk around in despite all the tourists. We also saw another distant group of grouse.

The cloudscapes were brilliant during out shortish visit.

It was pretty windy too, but some birds were still out making the best of it. The "town" was littered with not only Europeans, but also Mountain Bluebirds.

Brewer's Sparrows were the most abundant Bodie bird other than Mountain Bluebirds. I assume this very fresh looking, warmly colored individual is a Hotel Yankee.

Other birding highlights included Pinyon Jay flocks, a Mountain Quail loitering in the road, and a huge crossbill flock at June Lake. The water level of Mono Lake was extremely high at the time, which is generally a good thing except it made for poor conditions for shorebirds and the such - consequently, the number of species we actually saw using Mono Lake was pretty pathetic.

But with GRSG and BBWO in the proverbial bag, the trip was Great Success! Hopefully we will go back next year, maybe getting into the White Mountains...who doesn't want to camp in the bristlecones?

Return to Blogorado: Gunnison

Samantha found this Horned Lark. It's a good thing she did, because it was a TRIP BIRD.

Colorado is home to a few species I've still never seen, the most notable and arguably best of which is Gunnison Sage-Grouse, almost endemic to the state. Dipper Dan, Sultry Sam and myself had a wedding to attend in Denver, but after raging with many old friends, the old tribes of Sunnybrae and San Francisco disbanded and the three of us made the trip out to Gunnison, which if you are unfamiliar is actually a good area to see Gunnison Sage-Grouse. We knew we would require some luck and there was a decent chance we would dip on them...and we did! No need to build up any suspense over our fail, or go into excruciating detail about hours and hours of driving through sagebrush really slowly and constantly stopping to look at grouse-shaped rocks or grouseless patches of habitat...it was shitty. Fortunately, it was a pretty sweet area to explore so it was still a good time - here's a few photos.

We did a whole lot of not seeing grouse in very scenic places. Here is Danmantha not seeing grouse near Tomichi Dome.

Brewer's Sparrow was one of the most abundant birds in the area, though that didn't prevent me from failing to crush, as you can see. This is as good a place as any to confess that we didn't even see Sagebrush Sparrow, which mystifies me considering the habitat we were birding in.

Our Airbnb on the west edge of town was Great Success, as it turned out to be a serious geri birding situation - feeders galore! Here is a Sage Thrasher on a yard bench as geri birding evidence. Other feeder birds included Vesper Sparrow, Green-tailed Towhee, and Cassin's Finch. A side benefit of staying here was finding a male Lark Bunting on the road into town one morning (a flagged rarity in eBird), while on our way to toil in the grouse fields.

One of the Airbnb Vesper Sparrows chants a dawn curse, making grouse completely invisible to us despite our efforts. By this point in the trip, Dan and Sam's marriage had come under incredible strain, partially due to some lingering angst from partner-swapping with other wedding guests back in Denver (hey, it's 2019) and partially because we hadn't seen any grouse. Luckily, they had me to help keep the ship afloat. If anyone needs a marriage counselor or some couples therapy, hit me up, I'm cheap...and a great listener.

Empidonax for the trip were represented by a modest number of Dusky Flycatchers (above) and a Willow Flycatcher at the McCabe Lane Wetlands.

We here at BB&B have a long and storied tradition of taking meh/mediocre (mehdiocre????) photos of Townsend's Solitaires. I admittedly am ready to move on to straight crushing, but the solitaires are not.

The photog opportunities were not many, but I did manage a Mountain Bluebird crush, which I had been hoping for. This crush came at the cost of some fresh facemelt, which will only add to the disfigurement I have previously endured from seeing other Mountain Bluebirds.

Another view of the big sage basin near Tomichi Dome. There must be many grouse here. So close, yet so far...

I did not expect the wildflower scene to be so good...really should have brought my macro lens, but here are a few token shots. Here is some kind of penstemony/beardtonguey thing.

This white phlox was everywhere. Mellowing.

There were some great patches of larkspur (Delphinium nuttallianum) around. These were a bit too stunning to be mellowing.

This part of the continent is laden with mammals. Well, almost every part is, but it seems like you see a lot more of them in places like Colorado and Wyoming. We got elked on the reg.

I guess this is a Wyoming ground squirrel? It may have been a lifer squirrel. They were very, very common. They look like several other ground squirrel species I've seen before, so I only now realized they were something else.

If I got the species right, apparently these have had quite the range expansion in recent years and pretty much no one is excited about it...not people, not golden-mantled ground squirrels.

One of the most beloved squirrels in all the land, the one and only quasi chipmunk, the golden-mantled ground squirrel.

Least (?) chipmunks were enthusiastic attendees of the geri birding scene at the Airbnb. Mammals we saw that are not pictured include coyote, pronghorn, mule deer, white-tailed jackrabbit, marmots, and prairie dogs (east of the Rockies).

Needing a little break from driving around the sage in a futile grouse search, we decided to do a short hike and not see grouse while walking. This is the view looking north into the Gunnison Basin/the town of Gunnison from Hartman Rocks. Hecka scenic here...saw some more new plants and some trip birds, including Ash-throated Flycatcher, another eBird rarity.

Well, we failed, but the fail was more fun than not. Since I need to see the grouse someday, there is a good chance this wasn't my last visit to Gunnison.

Rocky Mountain National Park: Medicine Bow Curve, Endovalley, The Rabbit and The Rock

Our second morning in Colorado, we awoke early...destiny does not come for the late riser. This would be a fateful day, one way or another. By the end of the day I might be a birding hero, or it could all come crashing down on me. If failure was in the cards, this would be a memorable dip indeed. Following in the footsteps of probably thousands of birders before me, we would aim for arriving at Medicine Bow Curve as early as possible for the best chance of bagging a White-tailed Ptarmigan, the undisputed target bird of the trip. White-tailed Ptarmigan was one of those birds I saw in a field guide as a kid that seemed especially fascinating...though it was a bird found in the Lower 48, who knew when I would actually get to look for one? Never? Over 20 years later, I finally had my chance.

We got out of our Airbnb at Horsetooth Reservoir acceptably early, passed some Swainson's Hawks at their night roost, avoided a predawn collision with a herd of bighorn sheep crossing the road and quickly got up to Medicine Bow Curve. The park was beautiful early in the morning, and practically devoid of human life. We were the first people to arrive at the curve, the weather was sunny and calm, so I thought our chances of crossing paths with this bird was very good.

As the morning dragged on, my opinion of our chances started to fade. Back and forth I trodded along the short trail, scanning the rocky ground for a rock that would move. This went on for some time. Finally, I knew it was time to admit defeat...Billy and I were almost back to the car when I made my ceremonial last scan (As the GBRS ranked #7 birder in the U.S., I highly recommend taking a thorough last scan for interesting birds whenever you are about to leave a site. I can't tell you how many times this has resulted in lifers and rarities, whereas I would have had nothing to show for it otherwise). Wayyyyy upslope above me, I noted a rock with a protrustion that resembled a head and neck of a ptarmigan. This was not exciting, and not even really interesting...I knew, in my heart of hearts, that it was just a rock that happened to resemble a ptarmigan. What it certainly was not was an actual ptarmigan.

Then, I thought I saw the head of the rock move. Could it be? Finally, the entire rock started strolling away, with 5 golfball-sized rocks following it.

Suddenly, the air was filled with imaginary fireworks. Ticker tape rained down on us, and squadrons of F-18s flew low overhead in a show of birding patriotism. The shimmering ghost of Roger Tory Peterson stood with the spirits of Yoda and Obi-Wan Kenobi, proudly regarding the winning birders. We had done it!

The ptarmigan and her escort of tiny chicks seemed to have a particular destination in mind, which looked like it happened to be right next to the end of the trail, so we scurried back down the trail toward where I thought the birds were heading. Sure enough she reappeared above, with a vanguard of ridiculous ptarmiganlets leading the way.

While ptarmigans are reported with comforting regularity from this location, they are not by any means a sure thing. Among birds in the Lower 48, perhaps no other species has camouflage equal to that of the White-tailed Ptarmigan, made possible from the drastic molts they undergo each spring and fall, transforming from a peerless sheer white even Snowy Owls are envious of to an indescribably intricate pattern of gold, tan and black. This is a product of living in an environment of extremes, of course, the sort of place that for many years involved a major undertaking for humans to get to. There is a reason that so many cultures believe that The Creator dwells on the highest mountain top. And who does The Creator keep for company for much of the year, when all other creatures go to sleep or flee for warmer climes? The pika, and the ptarmigan.

Unlike the chicks, the hen was wearing  a lot of accessories...leg bands, a radio collar, and a big antenna that sprouted from her back. The ptarmigans here are part of a long-term study to detect changes in population density and monitor reproductive success; this species is vulnerable to climate change and may also be impacted by elk browse on alpine willows.

The fam fam (pfam pfam) strolled right by us, just as I had hoped. Though extremely hard to spot (as advertised), they also were very confiding (as advertised). I couldn't believe that it had all come together like this...was it all luck? Was Frank Mayer down in the valley below, emanating beams of his notoriously excellent luck?

A baby ptarmigan is not something I thought I would ever see. I get all choked up just thinking about it. Look at those stout little legs.

After our time in the company of the ptarmigan was over, it was back down Trail Ridge Road. The Mountain Bluebird nest at the visitor's center restroom was about to explode with fledglings.

The Brown-capped Rosy-Finches again abided at Lava Cliffs. A stop at Rainbow Curve for Pine Grosbeak (which a birder had just seen there earlier that morning) and Gray Jay was met with failure, but in the light of the come-from-behind win with the ptarmigan family, that didn't matter very much. Finally we decided to visit Endovalley, which is popular with birders and surely held some more yankee bravos. It really is a pleasant place to bird and hang out; we happened to park next to a calling Hammond's Flycatcher, which would be the only one of the trip. We walked along the gurgling stream, which Billy enjoyed like a normal person but which simply frustrated me because I kept seeing dipper shit on the rocks but with no accompanying dipper. Finally we came up on an area with no dipper shit, but an actual dipper.

Eastern birders absolutely fiend for dippers, and rightly so. There is nothing like a dipper in the east...waterthrushes are cool, but they are no dipper. Western birders are very grateful for their ouzels, we do not take them lightly. We hung out a long time with this confiding juvenile, who serenaded us with some whisper singing that served as the perfect accompaniment to the babbling brook.

The dipper seemed content to do absolutely nothing for quite a while, which I can really respect. Eventually it took interest in a nub on the log, which I also respect. It's all about the little things in life you know?

This ended up being the mellowest dipper I had ever met, probably even the best dipper I had ever seen. For those of you who have not met one of these stream spirits, don't worry...your dipper is out there, waiting for you. Just don't look for one in a dried up stream, or you will find your spirit equally dried up.

After loitering with the dipper, we walked back out along the road to bird the aspen groves. It did not take long before another yankee bravo reared its sappy head...several Red-naped Sapsuckers lurked within the aspens. Though I'd seen many in California over the years, I'd never actually seen one where they breed. Aspens are an ideal place for sapsuckery.

This male is showing the classic red throat washing over the black border of the throat, and of course the reddish nape. Sharp bird.

After we finished up at RMNP, we had a "day off" in the lowlands, hanging out around Fort Collins and visiting a few spots around town. The two Airbnbs we got for this trip had really worked out well, especially the one by Horsetooth Reservoir, where one could do some decent yard birding. In fact, one of the most bizarre experiences of the trip happened there while we were talking to the owners about birds...their cat wandered outside, and came back to us a few minutes later with a live baby cottontail in its mouth, which was squealing in agony. The cat, of course, simply dropped the rabbit (which was bleeding from its neck) and walked away. For the next several minutes, the rabbit would appear to finally be dead, then kick pathetically in the air, then repeat. It was quite awkward, because the owners certainly didn't know what to do about it. Finally Billy decided enough was enough, and volunteered me to put it out of its misery...great. So I held it against a large rock, got another rock, and beat its brain in until there was nothing left of its head anymore (don't worry, I dispatched it on the first blow, I'm good at stuff). It was extremely messy. So in case you needed to be told for the millionth time...keep your shitty cats indoors people!

Since this was late July, I was fiending to find some migrant shorebirds...surprisingly, there are seemingly countless ponds and lakes in the area, but they pretty much all had too much water to support any shorebirds at all. Fossil Creek Reservoir had a couple hella distant sandpipers but these Lark Sparrows (adult and fledgling) in the parking lot were more fun to hang out with.

I don't remember my lifer Mountain Bluebird, American Dipper or Red-naped Sapsucker (was it at Galileo Hill?), but I do remember seeing Lark Sparrows for the very first time. This bird really left a mark on me...never underestimate the power of the Lark Sparrow, or suffer your father's fate you will. Whatever that is.

Both Eastern (above) and Western Kingbirds are very common in the area and happily (or bitterly?) use the same habitats, which is odd since they behave so similarly and are both famously hyperaggressive species...I guess there must be enough food to go around.

The next day we would make the drive out to the legendary Pawnee National Grasslands, where lunch would be served with a large side of longspurs. See you at the next post.