2016's Biggest Misses

I saw many species of birds in 2016, but Common Eider was not one of them. Not birding within a species' normal range tends to lead to stuff like that happening. Though I mourned the absence of this eider in my life last year, and grieved for the eiders I have never seen, this was not a species I had any expectations for in 2016. Despite myself I had a whole lot of other expectations around some other birds, which didn't always pan out. Photographed in Biddeford, ME.

Full disclosure...I like keeping year lists. I'm not a county birding fiend (well...in most counties), so while many birders use county listing as a form of twisted, embarrassing motivation to get them out and about, I will occasionally sip the nectar from my inner year listing well and use that as birding fuel. I've only done one Big Year of any sort ever, when I set the Ventura County record as a teenager...the record was obliterated the following year but it was fun at the time and (unusually for a birder) I was not at all butthurt about losing my place at the top when my record fell. It would be fun to do again someday, someplace, though the thought of doing it on an ABA scale leaves a bad taste in my mouth, and causes my testicles to retreat into my body.

But we are not here to talk about big years, at least not today, just year birding. I am lucky enough to have done a lot of birding in Y2K16. I did exceedingly well in the rare bird department in California, even finding a couple highly sought-after birds myself, got some summer birding done in Colorado (awesome), and completed wildly successful nerd trips to West Mexico and Puerto Rico. As far as I know, in only one or two other years have I ever seen more birds.

But instead of humblebragging about all that shit, I thought I would run through the most surprising and most torturous birds I could not find last year. There were some truly painful misses, and a number of species I really thought I would just run into somehow never materialized. So in no particular order, here are some birds that gave me the slip and/or finger in Y2K16.

White-winged Scoter. I really, truly thought I would see these more than once, but it just never happened. I spent quite a bit of time birding the right places, but they just never appeared. How embarrassing. This is an uncommon and somewhat local species in the state, and the subspecies we get here on the west coast is known to be in decline. Photographed at the San Leando Marina, San Leandro, CA.

Collared Plover. What is the deal with Collared Plover? I've never seen one, so I wouldn't know. Despite immersing ourselves in great coastal shorebird habitat and putting a great many hours toward trying to find this fucking bird, we had no glory. I am excellent at not seeing Collared Plovers, both in Costa Rica and Mexico. I expect I am just as adept at avoiding them in other countries. If you do not want to have to look at a Collared Plover, come hang out with me. To make my drawn-out discomfort with this bird even worse, Dipper Dan recently reminded me that he saw Collared Plover in Costa Rica, while on a trip with me, presumably while I was passed out in the car with food poisoning. Great.

Prairie Falcon. I missed Prairie Falcons and I miss Prairie Falcons. This is a very good bird along the coast (where I usually bird) but I thought I would get them in Colorado or the Mono Lake area. Napes. Maybe I need to bird the Central Valley more often. Photographed on the Carrizo Plain, California, where they are very dependable.

Glaucous Gull. While a definite rarity in the state, they are not terribly hard to see or find yourself if you look at gull flocks enough...at least that's what I used to think. Not only did I not see a Glaucous Gull in 2016, I have somehow not seen one since 2012. I have no idea how I have accomplished this incredible feat. This bird is turning into a sort of nemesis for me somehow, and I've still never seen an adult.

Masked Duck. What the fuck does a guy have to do to see a Masked Duck? Sell my soul to the devil? At this rate, that actually seems like a very reasonable proposition. While I assumed we would miss them in Nayarit/Jalisco/Colima (relatively rare there), we had a great chance to get them in Puerto Rico...that is until Officer Searcy assured Dipper Dan and I that we would see one. That predictably fucked everything up, and I continue on course to go to my grave without ever seeing one.

Red-breasted Chat. This is my new Mexican nemesis bird, and I don't say that lightly. I believe everyone who went on the trip got to see one except me...actually that's a lie. I saw one, but it was such a shit look I won't even consider counting this very unique and utterly crippling bird. At least, they seem utterly crippling in photographs, I wouldn't really know since I haven't seen one in real life. Nerds saw them at multiple sites while in Mexico but I just could not ever get on one. I blocked out the pain for a while but I can still feel it in the depths of my nerdbrain. Photographed by Dipper Dan at Microondas San Francisco, Jalisco, Mexico.

Amethyst-throated Hummingbird. As I've said before, getting our hummingbird targets in Mexico was very frustrating. Even more frustrating was other nerds in the group lifering this bird, which I sorely wanted to see. At least I can say I was busy getting my face melted off by one of the best mixed flocks in my life while they were on the hummingbirds. Mixed flock aside, I saw what were likely multiple individuals of this species zooming by, but never got the conclusive looks everyone else had. Butt. Hurt. Other dishonorable misses on the trip, aside from hummingbirds, include Banded Quail, Greater Swallow-tailed Swift, Thick-billed Parrot, Mangrove Vireo, Aztec Thrush and Colima Warbler. Not that those are necessarily easy birds, but they all would have changed my life forever. Well, maybe not the vireo...

Sandhill Crane and Tundra Swan. These are both common in the Central Valley in winter. These are both species that birders really get off on seeing, and I am not above that. They are both steeped in majesty and make sounds that make you feel good inside. Does it really take a Falcated Duck for me to get deep into the valley? Apparently so. I had to dig deep into the archives for a passable crane shot...this is from Camas National Wildlife Refuge in Idaho, in the spring of 2011.

Blackpoll Warbler. There is perhaps no better place west of Texas to see this bird than Point Reyes (where in the past I have seen six in one day), which I birded a lot last fall. In fact, I birded the point better and harder and more than any other year. For whatever reason there just weren't many in the bay area last fall. This was a bit of a freakish miss, but those things happen. Photographed at Point Reyes, CA.

Hawaiian Petrel. Another potential lifer that has abstained from lifering with me. Ever since seeing a couple Mottled Petrels (and even those were seen poorly/all too briefly) while cruising through the Aleutians in 2010, I have been on a solid petrel shut out. I have put in a lot of boat hours since then and have still never (fully) connected with this bird. During a chaotic episode on a boat last fall I was both utterly convinced I saw one and utterly convinced that I did not see one. Now...I just don't know, but I sure as shit do not have identifiable pictures of one from that day, so this remains a species I need to see, very badly.

Other standout misses from 2016 include Flesh-footed Shearwater. Harlequin Duck, Pectoral Sandpiper, Black-legged Kittiwake, Short-eared Owl, Lewis's Woodpecker and California Thrasher.

I have no idea what 2017 will bring as far as birding goes...I have no trips planned at all, and I compulsively am almost always planning birding trips. Hell, I might not even get 300 species this year, a number I've not failed to meet in a long time...a long time. Being a bird junkie and a new father will be an interesting juggling act, as most people are under the impression that addicts and junkies typically aren't the best parents. But whatever happens, make no mistake...there will be birds, though my "worst misses of 2017" post might be more embarrassing than this one*.

* = I haven't seen Great Blue Heron yet...time to panic????

People Are Going To Work While We're Getting Cock-Eyed

Upland Sandpiper. Medicine Lake National Wildlife Refuge, Montana

In the spirit of Unemployment, I am beginning my morning with some Jim Beam Rye in my coffee. This seems like a proper way to celebrate Thursday.

Today, I offer you no cohesive theme whatsoever, but I do like all of these photos. The sandpiper was one of only 2 out of god-knows-how-many that I saw over the summer (love that prairie) that allowed for close approach. They are life-enhancing birds.

Yellow-winged Tanger. Chavarrillo, Mexico.

This is one of the many Yellow-winged Tanagers that dropped by our hawk counting tower and provided some extra entertainment. They seem well adapted to towns and are easy to come by...maybe one will pop into Texas some day.

Great Blue Heron. San Francisco, CA.

This bird was foraging at the Sutro Baths, ruins of an old bathhouse right on the beach.

TOAD. Chavarrillo, Mexico.

A toadular creature. I have no idea what sort (TELL ME). There were a few living in a little watering hole for livestock outside of town.

Sandhill Crane. Camas National Wildlife Refuge, ID.

I stopped at Camas last May on my way to North Dakota. I had never heard of the place before, but it was full of birds that wanted me to observe the crap out of them. A few cranes were hanging around, including one on a nest.

That's all for today....I've got to finish my 10,000 Birds post and get the rest of Cassowary's interview up...no rest for the wickedly nerdy.

Perfect Death Trigger Happy Patriots

Western Kingbird. Photographed Somewhere In Nevada. It yellowy.

People are still abuzz from Felonious Jive's scandalous interview from earlier this week. I can understand why...he has a strange, magnetic energy about him that somehow reaches out to everyone, feathered and otherwise. Not anyone can be a Great Ornithologist. It was good to get the Human Birdwatcher Project back on track as well...the truth behind birding will be revealed, its just a matter of time. Then, and only then, will everything make sense.

I only made one birding stop between Mono Lake and North Dakota, and that was Camas National Wildlife Refuge, in Idaho. I had never heard of the place but it was on my way north and had no admission charge. Nice. This random spot turned out to be pretty sweet, and I highly recommend checking out if you're ever in the area...although I have no idea you would just happen to be in Eastern Idaho. It had a little bit of everything, and provided a lot of good opportunities with the camera. Their moose did not reveal themselves, but my own Lostwood National Wildlife Refuge has not been forthcoming with its moose either.

Northern Harriers are the scourge of marshes nationwide. Combining the eyesight of a hawk with the hearing of an owl with some intense sexual dimorphism, they are unstoppable.

The flashiest marsh bird of them all, a Yellow-headed blackbird. I'm not sure what its doing exactly. Maybe it isn't either.

Right. North Dakota. It's so....North Dakotan. I don't know what else to say about it. I drove to Minot a couple days ago, which is The Big City for these parts. They have a university and various places of business. I even managed to find some hippie food finally, and made other novel purchases (a case of Schlitz and a bottle of Bullet Rye). The weather was good this week so its been a lot of hours and a lot of miles out on the prairie, circumnavigating various alkali lakes in the great plover hunt, which saps my blogging energies. I'm sorry. I know you need this people...probably more than I could ever know. 

Excuses excuses. Enjoy the Idahoan photos. Sorry that I can't provide any potato coverage, it is a special crop indeed.

A pair of Trumpeter Swans had the place to themselves. Nice view. Camas National Wildlife Refuge.

This Sandhill Cranes has its summer coating of rust. It's from gorging on the blood of the innocent. Excuse the scientific jargon.

Eared Grebes have acquired their summer ears. Can you imagine lacking ears half the year? Yeesh.

This Wookie-textured lump is actually a porcupine. Beware the Idaho-Endor Porcuwookie.

This Chapter We've Been Writing Is Getting Awful Hard To Read

Crested Auklets over Buldir's Main Talus.

So I finally got to go out in Homer for a couple of nights.  It was a lot like Arcata, except there are no street kids heckling you.  There’s even a bar called The Alibi.  One night there was a hipster 80’s cover band playing at the bar we were at, featuring a gifted keyboard player, a standup bass player who sang most of the songs and a striking Samantha Fay-esque banjo player.  The similarities were uncanny.  My camp leader from Buldir kept heckling everyone and at one point was offered $500 to go home with an old woman from Texas.  Unfortunately for everyone, she did not follow through with this.  Good times.

As you can see, we’ve made a few changes to BB&B at great effort and expense, but the rave reviews and frenzied feedback have made it all worth it.  As its been well over a year since I’ve been to Midway, its probably time to do something about our masthead….but with such an ambitious agenda on our cracked and calloused hands, its going to be difficult.  But make no mistake, we are up to the task at hand.

Many great pictures have been taken of the Tiglax over the years.  This is not one of them.  The Tiglax is the primary ship that ferries refuge personnel around the Aleutians, and was how I made it to and from Buldir.

So, back to last spring.  On May 29 we finally arrived at Buldir.  The seas were still rough, so we had to land some distance from our camp.  With the skiff parting a big raft of Parakeet Auklets, we were finally ashore.  Under a puffin-filled sky, we trudged down a cobbly beach toward camp valley.  Wandering Tattlers and Eurasian Wigeon flushed from the water’s edge, while Harlequin Ducks and Common Eiders bobbed offshore amongst auklets and puffins.  The place was brimming with birds.  Distant flocks of thousands of Crested and Least Auklets snaked through the sky, constantly changing formation and direction in order to avoid some real or imagined predator.  It was going to be a good summer, at least as far as birding was concerned.

Northern Fulmars (FOULGULLS) are common in between the islands and nested on Buldir.

Arriving in camp was done with relatively little fanfare, but throughout the day rare birds kept appearing between trips to our distant pile of gear we had to hump over to camp.  Four Sandhill Cranes, which were to stay with us for the rest of the year.  An Eastern Yellow Wagtail.  A male Rustic Bunting.  A female Bar-tailed Godwit.  I was feeling a little melty-faced, I can’t lie.

The view looking east from Northwest Ridge on a nice day.  A glut of Whiskered Auklets nest on this hillside in rock crevices.

Over the next couple weeks camp was set up.  Temporary, canvas-covered weatherports were erected for food storage and for Hannah and Sarah, the Canadians doing auklet studies for much of the summer.  A shower stall was erected, an outhouse set up.  The main structures were the sleeping cabin and main cabin, which included a fully-functioning kitchen (sans refrigerator) and stored a lot of work-related gear.  The camp was solar-powered for basic electricity needs (computers, ipods, camera batteries, etc.).  Heating was with kerosene.  Cooking was with propane.  Considering where we were, it was a really sweet living situation.

Wow, that is one of the most boring paragraphs I’ve ever written…but I feel it was necessary.  After a couple days we started with actual fieldwork and thus began the slow blurry smear of hiking, shivering, sweating, falling, shitting, vomiting and crippling that in its sum total can be described as summer Y2K10.

One of the Forgotten Four Sandhill Cranes that summered on the island.  They were probably heading for the Kamchatka Peninsula off eastern Russia but were forced to spend the summer with us due to bad weather.  They were bummed.

Me Looking At You, Or You Looking At Me?

I seem to have stumbled upon a kind of Sandhill Crane "Tree Of Life", which is odd, because they normally have nothing to do with trees.

Hi there bird junkies. You can't get enough, can you? That's why you keep coming back. Today's bird of choice is the Sandhill Crane, a species that has captured the eyes, ears and hearts of many a bird junkie. I would characterize Sandhills as being a kind of "downer" bird, in that they may cause a soothing effect and a mild euphoria when viewed in moderate to large numbers, particularly at sunset, sunrise, or if a high percentage happen to be vocalizing at the time.



It is the only widespread crane in the United States, occurring from coast to coast and from Canada to Mexico, with the bulk of the population being found in the interior states. Some individuals, particularly in places like Florida, are quite abiding and don't mind hanging out with people, but I haven't been fortunate to meet any of those birds. The fact that you can hunt them in some states doesn't make it any easier to get very close to them. All of these pictures were taken last November at Bosque Del Apache National Wildlife Refuge, in central New Mexico.



Whooping Cranes, the only other North American cranes, and white with black wingtips and are considerably larger than Sandhills. They are highly endangered (at one point last century there were only a few dozen), but can still be found in a couple places. I highly recommend looking at them in person....personally speaking, I found that viewing them caused a tidal wave of endorphins to be released. Aransas National Wildlife Refuge in Texas is the best place to do this.



Whether the Whooping Cranes are around or not, anyplace with Sandhills is blessed. Now go forth, and imbibe.

Mute The Sea, Stop The Clocks

I've been unemployed for a solid month and a half now. And let me tell you.....it's been great. Now that my fall tour is officially over, I don't have many expenses anymore beyond food and spirits. But since I am constantly celebrating various reunions among various friends, this can get costly.....but I'm not too worried about it. Take this to heart.



My very first blue Ross' Goose! I've looked for these for years in California's Central and Imperial Valleys, but finally found one at Bosque Del Apache NWR.

The gears are turning here in birdnerd world, and granolaheads everywhere are looking for late winter and spring work. I am in the thick of doing interviews and shooting emails at a rapid rate, and it ain't pretty boys and girls. I just might know what is next for me and the great ornithologist, Felonious Jive, by the end of next week...the ramifications could be staggering.



I got access to Whitetail Acres, which are man-made wetlands created by a wealthy conservationist in Bedford County, Pennsylvania. They provided the only real shorebird habitat for miles around, and also had Bobolinks, Eastern Kingbirds, Orchard Oriole, Swamp Sparrow, etc.

I spent some time at New Mexico's famous Bosque Del Apache National Wildlife Refuge a month ago, which I'd heard about for many years. Winter is the best time to go for thousands of cranes, geese, ducks and various raptors, so I was a little bit early.....but it did serve as a good conclusion to my long fall tour (Portland was mostly a social call, although I did squeeze in some decent birding), and certainly wasn't disappointing. To be honest, I was happy just to be listening to White-crowned Sparrows again.....that song is somehow entwined with my very core, I reckon....I've been hearing it ever since I was but a fetal birdwatcher, and its damn hard to forget.

Sparrows aside, its great to be able to spend some time with cranes and geese, especially when they know not to be terrified of you (thanks hunters)....there is something about that ridiculous cacophany that has a very calming effect on me. No rhyme intended.

Well, I'm going to see NOFX and Dead To Me tonight and it's going to kick ass. I love San Francisco!



Sandhill Cranes. Lurking. Bosque Del Apache NWR.