A Nice Refreshing Winter Dip (Or Two)

Yes! Tundra Swans. When you suddenly realize you are in the midst of abject failure, a big flock of Tundra Swans is the right salve for the wound. Photographed at Yolo Bypass Wildlife Management Area.

In the past few months, I've had the opportunity to search for two life birds. In both cases, I was searching for them less than 24 hours since the last time they were reported. In both cases, I saw neither of the desired birds. This is just how birding goes some times, you don't always see what you're looking for, but two consecutive dips on lifers? These are not paltry county birds or year birds, these are birds I have not seen before. Ever. Anywhere. And they were within driving distance. The stakes were high...those sorts of birds don't come by very often anymore, and recalling this double dip makes me wince reflexively.

The first dip was the Citrine Wagtail in Yolo. Talk about a bird that caught everyone with their pants down. So while this is an ultramega anywhere on the continent, only a total of three people ever saw it, and none the day I was there. In fact, this is a bird so rare and so unexpected that I don't even think about them, so I actually didn't come home from this dip all butthurt. Like, do you sit around and daydream about seeing White-crested Elaenia or Southern Martin? Both of those birds have made it to the ABA Area in the past. Yeah, those would be cool to see, but my mind typically drifts toward more charismatic birds like Little Curlew and Eared Quetzal instead, which may also show up again in the ABA Area one day. This Yolo wagtail was a bright, very attractive bird (more so than many other wagtails) but I still am not all torn up about it. I thought I handled it all rather maturely.

I love American Bitterns. Still have yet to find one in my no-longer-new home county. Along with the swans, this was a nice consolation bird.

The wagtail had been seen in a muddy, puddly impoundment, which was also frequented by American Pipits. I looked through a lot of pipits that day. Some of the parking lot pipits had little fear of people, so I did some opportunistic crushing.

Then this other bird had to show up. The second dip involved a bird of a very different nature...the Gyrfalcon in Monterey. Unlike Citrine Wagtail, Gyrfalcon is a bird that belongs on this continent, and has visited California many times. While up to this point in my life, I've probably only thought of Citrine Wagtails for a combined total of several minutes, I've contemplated Gyrfalcons for considerably longer. They come to mind on the regular. Perhaps this could be a new way of quantifying how much someone desires a bird...certainly, a bird dwelled on for many hours, or a bird that surfaces in one's thought repeatedly, can be considered more desired than one thought about for less than ten minutes.

Actually, let's flesh this concept out for a minute - I think it could be worth holding on to. Imma go ahead and call this the Lifer Desirability Index (LDI). It does not try to explain why a certain species we have yet to see grabs a hold of us, it just attempts to assess the effort spent contemplating it. So a species with a low score on the LDI would be some species that I forget exists, like the decidedly ununique Rusty-margined Flycatcher (it's a Social Flycatcher lookalike), or something drab, like Dusky Hummingbird. Species high on the LDI include Ivory Gull (combo of many reasons, including the worst dip of my life), Dovekie (adorable, and the last North American alcid I need to see), Snowcap (crippling and dipped on), Strong-billed Woodcreeper (giant woodcreeper of the cloud forest, seen by friends while separated in Mexico)...and of course Gyrfalcon.

I have lost track of the number of Gyrfalcons I've looked for before this one...three (?) in Humboldt County? Dipped on all of them. All of these birds had huge territories and were totally unreliable, and I stupidly did not try for the last Humboldt bird, the white one that actually was chaseable. So I knew what I was getting into and unsurprisingly spent over 7 hours dipping on the Moss Landing bird other day.

There was much fog at first, which made seeing anything impossible. After than, I saw two falcons that were too far to identify, and an obvious Peregrine. Weak. Rumors abound about rampant stringing going on...though the bird has been reported being seen on at least ten days (probably more), there are only identifiable photos of it from the first two days it was observed. That seems...unusual. I'm not going to claim that no one has actually seen it since day two (others do claim that), but let's get down to brass tacks...there was a Gyrfalcon, I looked for it, and I did not see it. Again. I tire of dipping on this grandiose bird. Well, I've heard a lot about Nome...

The birding wasn't totally awful, at least not for the entire day (it was awful most of the day though, just so we are clear). While staring at the power plant at Moss Landing (where someone had claimed to have seen in it earlier that morning), there was a flock of Red-breasted Mergansers cooperatively foraging in the shallows right beneath me.

The mergansers had to go around the large raft of sea otters. Sweet combo.

Working the shallows, scooting to catch up to the front of the flock.

Around here, females and immatures far outnumber gaudy adult males like these most of the time. I was chuffed to get to see some close up for the first time in too long.

Birders tend to limit their descriptions of "stately" birds to big waders like herons and egrets, but I think female Long-billed Curlews are worthy of that description. This is easily one of my favorite west coast species, a laudable bird worthy of many accolades.

I was surprised to see a Western Gull wrestling with a worm (a worm of the Sea, not of the Earth) in the shallows...that's typically a more curlewian task.

So here we are...after a very productive run in late fall in terms of connecting with rarities and finding some myself, it seems I've run out of luck. The well has run dry. The birding is poor...I'm not suggesting that is the state of things for everyone, the birding is poor for me. Chasing rarities? Doesn't work. Finding my own vagues? Napes. What about seeing the expected stuff and being content with that? Can't find common birds. The last time I tried to go out, I left my binoculars at home...talk about a sign.

Right. This isn't supposed to be a pity party post, just the state of affairs. Things will turn around at some point here, as they always do. March may be an uneventful month for rarities, but unless I go blind and deaf, there will be year birds!

I love year birds.

Diver Cavalcade

The bay area is blessed (cursed??!?!!!?!?!) with an enormous diving duck population in the winter months...some of the state's biggest concentrations of divers are here, if the not the biggest. Mount Tamalpais watches over them, no doubt a knowing and powerful duck god. Miller-Knox Regional Shoreline, Richmond, CA.

Surf Scoters and Greater Scaup. Thousands of ducks convened at Miller-Knox last month to feed on the herring roe that had also brought in enormous numbers of gulls.

Herring runs are fun for ducks and gulls alike. Here they mingle in harmony...the mind reels.

Among the throngs of Surf Scoters was this lone male Black Scoter. Their preference of wintering sites in the state are generally not conducive to photography, so it was nice to finally get some photos of the yellow-knobbed enigma.

Black Scoters are rare, or at most locally uncommon in coastal California...they are probably not overly enigmatic either, although they have been less studied than other sea ducks. Population estimates and trends are imprecise at best.

Black Scoters of western North America breed entirely in tundra lakes of Alaska; the closest population of breeding eastern birds is in Hudson Bay. I wonder how genetically divergent these birds might be.

It was truly a vulgar display of fowl. The seas seethed and frothed with egg-laden ducks.

A high-density scaup flock scrambles for handouts. Nothing will churn the placid waters of the lake like a bunch of carb-loading ducks. Lake Merritt, Oakland, CA.

Aside from the coots and Canvasbacks, these are almost all Greater Scaup, with one obvious Lesser mixed in. Can you find it? If you can't, the Global Birder Ranking System will note your failure.

Is there a better place than Lake Merritt for Canvasback watching? I have yet to find it.

Red-breasted Mergansers around here are mostly females and young males...older males mostly winter to the north of us. Not sure if this is a young bird or if it's still molting out of eclipse (this was photographed a few months ago).

This Common Goldeneye is going into classic stealth mode, where they swim with their neck extended and head held just above the water. Doesn't seem particularly stealthy to me but they think it works.

Locals will recognize this female Redhead that has been wintering on Lake Merritt for the past several years. The white flecking on her head (a result of leucism, not old age) makes her easy to identify as the same returning bird.

This Jizz Fest Is Full of Jizz Bandits

Mew Gulls have a good, distinct jizz; smaller and more delicate than Ring-billed Gulls, but lacking the unique flight style of the somewhat similar but even smaller Black-legged Kittiwake. Photographed at Golden Gate Park, San Francisco, CA.

Jizz. It's a word you know, but there are two very different definitions.

In birder lexicon, jizz can be defined as "the overall impression of a bird's appearance and/or behavior". It is most often used when you get poor looks at an interesting bird, or if you're seeing a species or plumage you're not very familiar with. I'll put up some photos with examples. Birders are so fascinated by jizz (hehe) that there is even a whole paper on it, which is a good read if you are a nerd. It's very funny to hear birders describe what jizz is to less experienced people, because I'm never quite sure if anyone (the jizz-teacher or the jizz-student) is aware of the other, much more prevalent definition, which is:

Semen. Ejaculate. Sperm. You know what I mean. I think I first learned about this kind of jizz when I was in 6th grade, and it is still certainly in use. Pretty much everyone I know understands and accepts this definition...I don't think I've ever heard a nonbirder ask something like "what does being hosed down with jizz mean?".

Rufous-winged Sparrow? No, no, no, the jizz is all wrong! (Rufous-crowned Sparrow, Old Mission Dam, San Diego, CA.).

Call me immature (you would be right to do so), but I cannot help but smirk whenever someone goes on some very serious rant about bird jizz. I'm sorry, it's hilarious. The people who do this fall into one of two categories:

A) They are so old they don't know the common (dare I say, "nominate"), well-established slang definition. Odd, but there's definitely nothing wrong with this.

B) They are pretending they don't know the alternative meaning of this word, which is just awkward.

It is far worse to fall into the second category. Who are you kidding?

Birder 1: "I think I've got a merganser out here....I think it's a Common."
Birder 2: "I don't know, I'm getting Red-breasted jizz off it....shaggy crest, dark breast...totes Red-breasted. You are an idiot, Birder 1."

I just can't take the word seriously, and its less offensive counterparts "giss" or "gist" are just obviously derivative of what people really want to be saying. My solution?

I just don't use the word very much, obviously...well, at least when I am birding. I crack up just thinking about it. So instead of saying "that flyby warbler from earlier had Connecticut jizz", I would say "that warbler that flew by earlier could have been a Connecticut". See how easy that is?

Phalaropes have a special brand of jizz...small but not tiny, straight bill, overall medium length, somewhat short-legged and stocky.

I am by NO MEANS suggesting that birders stop using the word. I love both toilet slang and nerd slang equally. I just wanted to be sure to set the record straight. So next time you hear someone say "Damn, I'm totally getting redshank jizz right now", it's ok to chuckle.

That's Not An Albatross Around My Neck...

No one takes pictures of female Ring-necked Ducks unless they absolutely have to....that all changes today. Santee Lakes, Santee, CA.

I forgot how working really gets in the way of one's birding...and I get paid to look at birds. Of course, most of my time now is spent staring at the ground, in an attempt to find the highly-camouflaged nest of a Snowy Plover.

So, spring on the west coast. What can I say? A lot of migrant passerines seem (predictably) a bit early, but so far its business as usual for many other northbound birds. The year birds are still coming strong (Ash-throated Flycatcher was the most recent), and I look forward to going migrant-hunting this spring...although I may be out of luck in the short term.

Why? It's because of my 1999 Honda Accord, whom I harbor a withering hatred for. This car has been cursed from the very beginning (indeed, unbeknownst to me, it had a recall out for it when I bought it) and has been sucking on my financial reserves like a giant metal lamprey ever since. It seems to be the archetypal piece of machinery for "planned obsolescence", if anyone is savvy with product jargon. It would be better off used as target practice than to drive. Perhaps it is well-suited to be dropped into the ocean, for use by marine life as some kind of artificial reef. Anyways...depending on how things go, I may find my time off in the next month spent car-shopping instead of birding, which is a giant bummer. Just thinking about it fills my heart with hate...but it will be nice to not have a Honda hanging around my neck for any longer.

Right. Well I hope you all are getting out there, binoculars in hand, popping pupils at salient spring migrants. It is, after all, what is best.

Reddish Egret is one of my favorite birds. They have style and swagger. I've also never had the opportunity to get any great pictures of them, so this will have to do for now. J Street Mudflats, Chula Vista, CA.

Red-breasted Merganser. I think it wins the award for Most Haphazard Crest. J Street Mudflats.

Orange-crowned Warbler. They are the most basic western warbler. Primitive even, in their lack of adornments, changeless plumages, and unimaginative songs. That said, I still like them. Mission Trails Regional Park, CA.

Hooded Orioles are one of the earliest spring bids to arrive here every year, and can be found holding down palm trees throughout the summer. Santee Lakes, CA.

This is the rarely seen hover-mode of the Western Bluebird. No wings required. This is their preferred mode of transport while collecting nesting material. Santee Lakes, CA.

A more traditional pose.

You know its a dark day when a Violet-green Swallow manages to have all of its color washed away. This picture makes me think of storm-petrels, for some reason. Santee Lakes.

Mysterious Parakeets of Gloom. Famosa Slough, San Diego, CA.

American Wigeon pair. Another month and they will probably be all gone. I think the female actually looks better than the male in this shot...nice edgings! Santee Lakes, CA.

A Wood Duck lets loose a half-hearted bellow. Wood Ducks are plentiful and friendly at Santee Lakes, the result of a successful reintroduction program. Unlike the wigeon, the ring-neck, and the merganser, they will be staying around to bellow all summer long.

A Cooper's Hawk catches a thermal. Mission Trails Regional Park, CA.