On Warranting Caution: Angles and Lighting

Birders have a lot of cliches. One you hear over and over again, in heated, sweaty-palmed and pained discussions on advanced bird ID (and occasionally, with regards to provenance) is "caution is warranted". What birder popularized this phrase? We may never know. One thing that is not uncertain is that it is good advice, albeit phrased in such a melodramatic and painfully nerdy manner that I wince when I try to say it.

An occasion in which a birder should not throw caution to the wind is when we don't get to see all we want of a bird, even when we think we do. Take the Black Tern above, for example. This is a pretty good look, right? It's almost a crush. But something is off...why does it have dark gray wing linings? It's not a shadow. What is wrong with it?! Call the bird police!

Oh, wait. That looks better. What happened?

What happened is angle. What happened is lighting. The effects even minute changes in angle and lighting can have on a bird's appearance is monumental. The above photo was taken less than a second after the top photo, and the tern looks like it changed wings in between frames. Sure it's hard to see birds when its dark, and obviously looking at backlit birds sucks, but I don't think birders fully appreciate how subtle changes in lighting and angle can fully transform a bird.

Cool. A quick glance at this photo may make a birder guess Caspian Tern. It's a good guess. That's a dark bill.

And here it is a second earlier. Obviously a Royal Tern. That bill is no-doubt-orange, not the slightest bit red.

Philadelphia Vireos are notorious. Notorious for being yellow. Not yellow like a Yellow-green Vireo, or a Yellow-throated Vireo...or a Thick-billed Vireo...but you know what I'm talking about. If you don't, you are probably unskilled at Philadelphia Vireo identification. Not that there is anything wrong with that...or so I'm told.

But I digress. Here is a vireo. Obviously a Philadelphia or Warbling. Yeah, the lores dark, but this thing is bland. Could it just be a funky Warbling? The head looks numbingly gray, the throat an unfathomable shade of drabness. Where is the yellow? Show me the yellow!

Oh. There it is. It obviously is saturated with yellow. That's funny. Do you see where I'm going with this? Not only am I trying to address problems of birding in the field, I'm talking about how misleading photos can be.

Of course, I can't talk about issues with lighting and bird ID without talking about gulls. Here is an ostensible Western Gull taking flight. Quite the dark mantle, eh? Looks pretty normal.

Oh. That looks pretty pale now....disturbingly so. Clearly not a pure Western Gull.

Oh wait. It's super dark. It looks like a Western Gull. What is going on? What is the real shade of its mantle? This is all the same bird, and the photos were all taken within ten seconds of each other. Questionable gulls (and even some unquestionable gulls) require a lot of study, and a large dose of caution. When you are trying to ID a gull based on someone else's photos of one (an increasingly common practice), I suggest even more caution. Huge amounts of it. You should be getting drunk on caution, because you didn't get to see all the angles and lighting on the bird in the field. This is one of the many reasons gulls suck and I hate looking at photos of "mystery gulls", addicting as they may be. And yes my nerds, the mild mottling on the nape is indicative of some Glaucous-wing ancestry.

Let us look at the gull in front (although you have the freedom to ponder the other one). It looks almost textbook for a Thayer's Gull. But why is the mantle so dark? Surely this is a dark-mantled species of some sort, or at least a hybrid of one, because look how pale the other bird's back is in comparison.

Here is the same bird. Why, it doesn't have a dark back at all. Suddenly, it becomes a pristine Thayer's Gull. The only difference is that the bird is turned a few degrees to the right, compared to the previous photo.

Despite the misleading bird-to-bird comparison I offered two photos above (that was more of a don't-ID-gulls-by-just-one-photo-sometimes kind of warning), comparing birds directly is the way to go. It can be gulls, it can be vireos, it can be various strolling Siberian ground-dwellers.

California birders still remember what happened last year...Savannah Sparrows were being misidentified time and time again as Red-throated Pipits. It was an outrage, a debacle of the highest order. GBRS ranks were in freefall all over the state. There was even a backlash counter-outrage to combat it, defending the rights of stringers everywhere. It was a sad state of affairs, and we may only be a few months away from history repeating itself. At any rate, when the two species are side by side, is it really that confusing? You can't even claim that they are both brown. The bird on the right almost looks like a fucking Prairie Warbler. This is a story of what happens when overenthusiastic birders don't bother comparing their bird of interest with what else is around...and when one Savannah Sparrow is around, there are more (that is a rule). Caution is hella warranted.

Remember my friends...angle and lighting make identification frightening. Take this to heart, and you will go far.

Fall Vague Runts

Despite their plummeting population numbers, this has been a very good fall for Rusty Blackbirds on the west coast. This bird was near the Baldwin Creek Mouth just north of Santa Cruz, CA.

Every fall, seasonal work dries up and I find myself with nothing to do but to go birding. All the time. It's really nice.

Well, not all the time. Sometimes bourbon, punk shows, general merriment and raging gets in the way of an early morning start, you know what I'm saying? And let's face it...I'm not much of a county lister. If I was, I could NEVER STOP BIRDING.

Right. This year has been saturated with pelagic trips and some nice rarities, but as many NorCal birders are aware of, it's been a bit slow this fall. I admit I'm a bit jealous of the vagrant haul that Southern California has gotten in comparison (Blue-winged Warbler, Common Swift, some sort of Bean Goose, Marsh Sandpiper, Wood Thrushes, a plethora of Scarlet Tanagers, Yellow-green Vireos, etc.)...I think if there were a tangible birding competition between Northern and Southern California this year, SoCal (BroCal) would have us easily beat. How embarrassing.

This is only the second Rusty Blackbird I've seen in my life, the last one being the infamous Goleta bird that wintered in a Costco parking lot in the nineties. This is probably the closest thing to a "relifer" I've ever had...looking at it felt hella good.

But I am grateful to have the time and freedom to go birding a lot this time of year, and the birding gods have seen fit to reward me with birds like Great Shearwater, Painted Redstart, Blue-footed Boobies, American Tree Sparrow, etc. Not everyone is so lucky.

There have been dips, make no mistake. I dipped on a Rusty Blackbird in Monterey (that was before I got the redemption you see above). Dipped on a Northern Gannet in Marin. Hell, I've dipped on Lapland Longspur, which I haven't even seen this year! In fact, my year list is thirsty for all longspur species...if I do indeed fail on these birds, this would be my first longspurless year in many years. That would be fucked up.

One of the handful of self-found vagrants I can claim this fall is Red-throated Pipit...and even that is a stretch, because I found a third individual where two were already being reported. That said, before this fall I've seen all of two (2) Red-throated Pipits, and now I'm happy to say I have been acquainted with five (5) members of the species.

Savannah Sparrows are one of the most misidentified species in North America. I found out this fall that besides being classically misidentified as Vesper and Baird's Sparrows (and occasionally as other sparrows and longspurs), Savannah Sparrows can also play the role of Red-throated Pipit. Now I don't think they play the role very convincingly, but it has happened more than once in California this year. I trust you can tell which of these birds is the pipit, and which is the sparrow.

My year list now sits in the low 670's, which is a highest year list I've ever had, by a wide margin. Considering I've only birded Costa Rica and two U.S. states in 2013, it's a number I like. Of course 700 is a number I like even more...but getting there in less than a month and a half is going to be a struggle. Funds are limited, and gas must be conserved. I fear the worst...but there is always next year.

The Napa Hudsonian Godwit. This was a state bird, and only the second I've ever seen. This late in fall, there aren't many California birders out scouring the shorebird flocks for precious precious rarities...most have moved south. That said, there is probably still a Bar-tailed Godwit lingering an hour to the south of where I live, so those who exercise CONSTANT VIGILANCE are bound to be rewarded. Eventually.

Not quite a rare bird, but I'm happy I saw hella Flesh-footed Shearwaters this fall, including five in one day. Gotta put in a lot of boat time to see many of these. I got a lot better this year at plucking these birds out at great distance, which sent my GBRS score up to a roiling boil.

Brown Booby is not the rarity it used to be...the state's Bird Police took them off the review list years ago, but they are still a quality find in the northern half of the state. I found this bird on a Shearwater Journeys boat in October off of Bodega; it's only the second record for Sonoma County. We also had the bird in Marin County waters.

These are all random musings, to be sure. A big weather system has been dumping rain on the bay area since yesterday, so here I sit indoors, reflecting on how to improve on my bowling technique. In an act of sheer idiocy, I recently dropped my camera onto a sidewalk (the Blackrapid strap disconnected from the mount while I was standing there looking at a fucking Golden-crowned Sparrow) and so I'm crossing my fingers for my lens to be fixed and returned to me before heading to Modoc at the end of the month...heading into the frozen wastelands of the north without a crushing device is a dubious proposition at best.

A Birder's Guide To Rare Bird Reporting

On October 19, Juli Chamberlin and Bob Toleno found, described, photographed, received independent confirmation of, and reported a Red-throated Pipit (above) at Arrowhead Marsh in Oakland, CA. Since then, there have been up to 3 Red-throated Pipits and at least one japonicus American Pipit found there, which hundreds of birders have gotten to enjoy through tears of joy and sobs of ecstasy. A birding success story often starts with good reporting.

The moment of truth has arrived...you are in the right place at the right time, and have found a rare bird. At least, you think you have. What next?

Welcome friends, to another groundbreaking post by the Human Birdwatcher Project, who boldly asserts that "Birders are people too!", despite the mountains of evidence to the contrary. The topic of the day? Not rare birds per se, but the people who see them. One of the most frustrating things that established birders deal with are miscues in rare bird reporting made by others. If an amazing bird is rumored to be around, you want to feel good about it before you drive 3 hours to lay eyes on that Spotted Redshank, Northern Wheatear, White-cheeked Pintail, or whatever it may be. Unfortunately, complications frequently come up that (to put it mildly) frustrate others who may want to look at a bird. Every birder that is down for a good twitch has spent many, many burned hours and gallons of gasoline to hunt for birds that simply didn't pan out, for one reason or another. I don't mean a simple dip, I mean other observers are left wondering (or outright believing) that the bird they searched for never existed in the first place.

You might think, "Seagull Steve, you are a stupid elitist asshole. I wouldn't drive an hour to see a rare bird that someone else found if my life depended on it. Are you really about to dictate how people bird? Asshole.", and you may be right, but I can live with that. After all, you don't get to be the nation's #7 birder by having soft skin and not looking at rare birds. BUT, this post isn't for those who have no interest in sharing bird sightings with other people. Take heed of these words, and you may find yourself bathed in the warm glow of admiration from the birding community, instead of mildly resented and/or suspected of being a major stringer.

Brian Sullivan earned 34 GBRS points when he found, identified, documented and properly reported this Arctic Loon last winter. Photographed at the Municipal Wharf in Monterey, CA.

So let us return to our moment of truth. You found a real vagrant, lets say an out of range Smith's Longspur. Huzzah! What do you do next? Many birders may do the following:

- Before reporting the bird, fail to rule out similar species.
- Not report the bird in a timely matter, if at all.
- Report the bird solely via eBird, whom many birders don't regularly monitor or participate in.
- Leave out crucial details like specific location, directions, time of day, other birds the longspur was associating with, etc.
- Fail to provide links to photos and/or give a rudimentary description, let alone a detailed one.
- Assume that even though the bird is inaccessible on private property, no one will care about it.
- Report the bird in such a casual, flippant manner that others are left wondering if you have any idea about what you are talking about.
- Think about unintended consequences of their report: is it a species a hunter might like to bag? Is it somewhere where hunting is allowed? Is it a sensitive/protected species that could react poorly to disturbance?  Is it a bird photographers will crowd and chase around mercilessly?

Every winter I run into visiting birders at Oakland's Lake Merritt who are looking for this Tufted Duck, but they are desperately wandering all over the place because many birders fail to report minimal details about where the bird actually is being seen. For those birders who actually miss this usually cooperative bird because they are looking in the wrong places, it must be extremely frustrating.

Obviously, from time to time birders have good reason to do these things...if so-and-so happened to find this longspur in a place they were completely unfamiliar with (i.e. outside of their home state), it would make sense to just chuck the thing onto eBird instead of search for the appropriate listserv, sign up, wait to be confirmed, then hope you are not on "moderated" status when you attempt your first post. In such situations, even finding an appropriate Facebook group (this one perhaps?) can be useful in getting the word out.

To use another example, Paul Lehman, a Great Birder, recently passed along information about a Marsh Sandpiper in California that he did not even see, with no description or photo to speak of...but everyone knows Paul Lehman is a Great Birder, so no one fussed about this. That said, almost every birder in the world is certainly not Paul Lehman. Literally. And of course, when the photos were made public, it was obviously a Marsh Sandpiper (a one day wonder, unfortunately).

Right. So how does one deal with this Smith's Longspur correctly?

- Run through the field marks, photograph it, wait around to see if it vocalizes.
- Get a hold of a field guide. Make sure it's not another species of longspur, or more shamefully, a Eurasian Skylark (this infamous botch happened in California once).
- If you're unsure, use a reference to ascertain the rarity of your longspur.
- Think about the consequences of reporting the bird...hunters, private property issues, potential disturbance, etc.
- Get a message out to the appropriate listserv/rare bird alert as soon as it is convenient. Contact area birders if you know any. Put your photos up somewhere accessible online.
- If you completely crushed the bird, often your photos alone will inform others as to the validity and awesomeness of your sighting. If not, a few lines of description in your report will be very helpful, with or without a photo. I cannot stress this enough. Include time of day, directions to the spot, and other pertinent details, such as having your car broken in to by tweakers while you were in a longspur daze.
- Let the glory rain down upon you. It is birder gold.

This is a Short-tailed Hawk from the Florida Keys. If I found it in California (a first state record) and had nothing but this mediocre picture to show for it, I would probably go to Curtis Marantz-like lengths to explain the bird (not a simple feat for a mere human), even though many current and former Bird Police know me. If I did nothing but lackadaisically lob this essentially undiagnostic photo online somewhere, the bird cops would no doubt make sure my kneecaps were broken within 24 hours.

I'm not going to go into birders and private property issues (that's a huge clusterfuck situation in and of itself), but even if you see your longspur someplace with no public access, most people would be very interested to know the bird was there in the first place...we are nerds after all, and nerds crave knowledge. Without a doubt there are those who whine and complain about having to hear about these sorts of teasing sightings (why???), but they are a small minority who are used to having much scorn heaped upon them.

There you have it...that is the mental checklist I go through whenever I find a rare bird. With 19 years of experience behind me, I think it's about as refined as its going to get. I could sit here and regale you with stories of pointless and unsuccessful rarity chases, but when you walk around with a huge #7-shaped chip on your shoulder, you will find that you have enough enemies already.

I Am The World's Greatest Red-throated Pipit Photographer

It is the truth that I speak. Clearly, no superior photographs exist of Red-throated Pipits.

Here is a Red-throated Pipit bellowing, a rarely observed and aggressive behavior.

It's so streaky. And richly colored. And RARE.

This is only the second one I've ever seen. Photographed in Sunnyvale, CA.