Humboldting: Rarities From Far and Near (?)

In birding, one of the few certainties we can cling to is that little is certain. I will now provide you with one of these rare certainties...

Every winter, an extremely rare bird will show up in Humboldt County.

Don't believe me? Since 2013...

Little Bunting (2013)
Gyrfalcon (2013-2014)
King Eider (2014)
Brambring (2014-2015)
Snowy Owl (2016)
Great Gray Owl (2015-2016, 2016-2017)

Oh, and these were just the chaseable birds...in winter. Never mind the rest of the year. Oh wait, I forgot one...

Common Pochard (2016-2017)

Common fucking Pochard. Until this bird was found, this was one of the biggest blockers in California...there has only been one chaseable bird in the state ever...oh, and other than Alaska, there has also never been one in any other states or provinces. Talk about a MEGUHHH!!! Sweet, sweet, Siberian action...it doesn't get much better than this bird, and I am still trying to get out the stains in my pants from when I first learned about this bird.

Of course, not only would this bird be a lifer for me, it is a totally bizarre bird in some respects, something good to look at and ponder...a bird that seems to perfectly fit in the center of the Canvasback-Redhead spectrum. Since the Old World has neither Canvasbacks or Redheads, this somehow makes sense.

However, Billy was about to have a baby...my baby, in fact...so when the pochard news initially broke, I did not actually think I would see the bird. Going to Humboldt at this time would be absurd. But Billy knew my severe gripoff pain and we went north, and we got the bird at a most frigid dawn at the Redwood Creek Oxbow without difficulty. Though I spotted the bird before she did, it is safe to say that I owe Billy a luxurious HJ.

Distant but good looks at this lifer with Redheads and Ring-necked Ducks were had, and after chatting with Officer Fowler of Fowlerope Birding Tours, we took a walk through the facemelting old growth at Prairie Creek Redwoods State Park. No Gray Jays or Pileated Woodpeckers appeared, but the forest was as ridiculous and grandiose as ever.

I couldn't help but give a Steller's Jay a mild crushing on our way out. Sure they are abundant and eat Marbled Murrelet eggs, but think back on the first one you laid your squinty nerd eyes on...crippling, eh?

There was plenty of daylight left, so we lurked down to Arcata Marsh, since that is always the default place to bird if you have nothing to do. This time it was hosting a couple rarities to provide extra motivation for a visit.

Billy came up with a nice group of Redheads feeding close to the trail. It's hard to see these birds up close in California, so I was chuffed. Not pochard chuffed, but chuffed nonetheless.

Ahh, sweet, succulent and locally uncommon Redhead, it is much better to observe you up close. Remember, if you meet any pochards in your travels, try to convince them to stay on this continent. It is the flyway less travelled...if you are a pochard.

Those Redheads will probably never meet a pochard, but they were acquainted with another Sibe. While I was staring at the Redheads, Billy got on the most popular bird at the marsh, a totally incognito female Tufted Duck. I've seen a handful of female Tufteds before, and this was by far the most indistinct individual I have seen, though she had the classic small, dusky white spot at the base of the bill. She really looked quite scaup-like though, and would not be eye-grabbing at all from a distance.

I'm no Tom Johnson when it comes to flight shots (in fact only Tom Johnson is Tom Johnson in that regard) but I was pleased to collect this girl's soul as she took wing on her way to Allen Marsh. I did not expect her to have the head shape of a Rhinoceros Auklet, but there it is.

Most of you know I lived in Humboldt for a long time...a long time. It has a special place in my heart, so much so that I am all about county listing there. Some years ago, while getting things up to speed in eBird, I actually had to reconstruct my Humboldt list using actual checklists, which is just about as novel as it can fucking get. Amazingly to me, I could never find any record of seeing Blue-gray Gnatcatcher in the county...which was finally rectified when some rando birders got me on the one wintering at the marsh. Local rarity! County bird! Victory!

A life bird...in Humboldt County...and another Humboldt County bird in the same day...with a bonus Tufted Duck. What a fucking day! But we weren't finished yet...

Next to Arcata Marsh is the infamous V Street Loop, a classic car-birding site. Short-eared Owl used to be a gimme here, but with much of the former grassland now converted to tidal wetland, they aren't nearly as dependable. Northern Harriers are still abundant though.

This hell of gray Savannah Sparrow caught my eye next to the road; I don't see birds like this very often. I wonder where it's from...any ideas? It was accompanied by 1-2 similar individuals.

Almost no color in the lores. So plain, but so striking. So Economy of Style. This bird gives credence to the argument against that old adage, "Life is Savannah Sparrows".

Finally, it was time to look for yet another absurd bird...a Great Gray Owl on the edge of town. Unbelievably, this was the second in Humboldt County of 2016 (and no, I do not think it is the same bird from Prairie Creek). The closest source population for these birds is not in the Sierra Nevada, it is in southern Oregon (i.e. the Ashland area, a mere 115 miles northeast as the owl flies), but obviously there is no way of knowing where Humboldt's birds originated. I presume Great Grays occur more often than we think in Humboldt, Del Norte (no records in eBird) and especially Siskiyou (no records in eBird) counties, which all have vast areas of potentially suitable habitat that get no coverage by birders. There are quite a few records in Oregon within 20 miles of the Siskyou County line. Interestingly, there are no coastal records of this species in Oregon, where there are considerably more Great Grays than there are in California...Humboldt County alone has what, four individuals now? Only in Humboldt...

More important than speculating about the One Bird Theory and source populations is seeing a Great Gray Owl. It is a spectacular bird. Photos do not do them justice, it is a bird to be seen to be truly believed.

The weather deteriorated after this ridiculously good day of birding, though we did make it out to get better looks at the owl again. On the way back south on 101, we were greeted by a fully legit snowstorm. Unfuckingbelievable. Those of you who are familiar with the San Francisco-Arcata drive can appreciate this...I have never seen anything like it. We pulled over along the Eel to take it all in, and were treated to a real fallout...of robins. Hundreds were falling out of the sky, pouring into the roadside vegetation from upslope. Too much snow for [good] photos, but it was nothing like I've ever seen.

Another great Humboldt visit in the bag. Life bird! County bird! Great Gray Owl! Bonus Sibe! Snow! Billy didn't go into labor! I couldn't ask for much more.

20 Years In The Game: Never Stop Birding...Sentimental HJs...Birds Remembered

Look at all these nerds. Although I am currently retired from bizarre field jobs, they have done a lot for me (and my life list). After the long and glorious LBJ days came to an end in Humboldt County, this was my first job...slavishly censusing Burrowing Owls for Jeff Manning (of "Two Jeffs One Cup" fame) and his mysterious dog Palouse in the Imperial Valley. Those times were good times, and things have never been the same.

As a birder, this month was special for me. Not because I achieved any sort of listing milestone or saw a particularly rare bird (groan), but because I realized that I've now been birding for 20 years. Of course there are a lot of birders out there who have been birding that long (and substantially longer), but I would wager that most of them are not 32. Let's face it...those people are old. OLD. One day I will probably be OLD as well, but other than an increasingly large beer gut and a decreasing amount of hair, I feel pretty good about myself, and I intend to enjoy the waning days of youth.  At any rate, this is truly an anniversary of an incredibly nerdy magnitude, and really, really embarrassing.

When I started birding as a stupid 12-year old, once I started it never occurred to me that I would ever stop birding. It was too good, even if I was doomed to be a nerd for the rest of my life. I became a bird addict, a depraved junkie who just cannot get enough...maybe not the kind who would give an HJ in a back alley in exchange for a life bird...ok FULL DISCLOSURE I actually invented that whole bird-hj bartering system and that is totally me. Buddies, I'm still waiting for all those HJs...

Right. Buddies. While I don't have the endless financial resources that some have to pour into their state and county lists (surely there is something better to do with that $$$...or is there?), I have made lots of friends on the way. And friends, to a birder, are worth more than any Code 5 rarity. Birders, as I'm sure you have noticed, don't have many friends, due to the weirdness in their brains and debilitating lack of social skills. Luckily somewhere between 12 and 32 I managed to trick some people into liking me and now I have many a buddy. So now when I run into an old friend at a bar, they greet me joyous cries of "Number 7!", whether they are a birder or not. I have a girlfriend, Booby Brittany, who forced us to chase a Little Bunting last winter because she knew my soul would shrivel up and die if I didn't (she also has a thing for Sibes, though). It has been an honor and a privilege to have met so many good people on this godawful, shameful journey. So to all my friends I've made while working weird jobs (birders and otherwise) that made life tolerable (birded/drank with me) and to everyone who has lent me a couch or showed me a lifer while on some fucked up birding road trip or were down to be dragged around through the Arcata Bottoms at incredibly slow speeds...you know who you are. I owe you a big fat HJ.

I guess you want to see some pictures or something. I can't share images from the 90's (although I do have slides somewhere) and from most of the 2000's, so I figured I would at least break out the old hard drives and post some random pictures chronicling some more recent Great Successes.

In February 2009, I ditched my desk job in Concord, CA, for a volunteer position with the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service on Midway Atoll. I wanted to get to know seabirds...and I got to know them quite well, particularly albatross. Truth be told, they are quite addicting. Anyways, though not really a seabird (although it does overfly vast distances of ocean), one of the birds I met on Midway was the Bristle-thighed Curlew, which is never something I had realistically thought I would ever see up to that point. This is the last North American bird to have it's breeding grounds discovered, and even there it is not very common. Saw hella on Midway though.

After Midway, I went out to Pennsylvania to work with Bat Conservation International, where I got my first taste of the wind energy industry and what it can do to birds and bats. After I finished there, I figured "Well, this is as close as I've ever been to Florida, so I might as well go". So I drove down to the Everglades, and picked up a quantity of lifers. Wood Stork was not one of them, but any place you can go where Wood Storks lurk by the roadside is a good place. Did you know they have pink feet? Ding Darling National Wildlife Refuge, FL.

In the spring of 2010, I took a job in southeast Arizona, one of my favorite places to bird. It's great getting paid to look at birds where thousands of other birders drool about visiting. We lived in Florida Canyon much of the time, and put up a bunch of hummingbird feeders; this Violet-crowned Hummingbird was one of the more unexpected birds to show up.

After Arizona, I thought it would be best to move to the Aleutian Islands for the summer. I got to meet many Asian strays and a shitload of amazing seabirds, but one of my favorite moments was finding this Ancient Murrelet chick after a night of mist-netting Whiskered Auklets. This little chick, just a few days old, was going balls-out for the water, leaping astonishing distances into the air like a goddamned kangaroo in order to get over the seemingly impenetrable boulder field on the beach. We could hear a parent calling to it from the water. I have no idea what terrain had to be conquered or how far that chick had to go to get to where I saw it, but I have no doubt that it made it to the water.

In 2011, I thought it was time to get weird. I completed a road trip through eastern Mexico, which was rad, although not after getting robbed by a cartel...which was not rad. A month after that incident I was back in Mexico because I am crazy, counting migrating raptors for the spring in Chavarrillo, one of best places on the continent for seeing birds of prey during spring migration. I was enamored with the swarms of Mississippi Kites that moved through later in the spring. Que chido.

After Mexico it was off to North Dakota to do Piping Plover monitoring for Lostwood National Wildlife Refuge. It was a weird scene (though not nearly as weird as Mexico), but the birding was great. We had field sites all over the place and some of them had good numbers of Baird's Sparrows, which worked out quite well for me since they are one of the most lusted-after sparrows in the U.S. This bird was on private property, but if you ever get out that way, look for them at Lostwood or Medicine Lake NWR over in eastern Montana. PS fuck frakking.

In January 2012 we were evicted from the Space Station, our squatter house in San Francisco, which sent me packing north for a doomy road trip. In Washington I finally got to meet the iconic Snowy Owl, one of the best birds in existence.

My most-crushed Vague Runt is this drake Tufted Duck, which has been wintering at Lake Merritt, a few minutes from my house, for years. Hopefully he comes back soon so I can crush him for the millionth time. You want to join the crush party? Come visit!

In summer of 2012 I found myself living in San Diego, toiling with Least Terns and Snowy Plovers for the San Diego Zoo, and living in a cabin in Jim and Jim's backyard. Jim and Jim were great landlords, and their backyard was an excellent place to party. Many good times back there. I managed to survive the toxic birding scene, did a lot of great birding and made a few buddies...and I still like terns and plovers. Here is a young Snowy Plover chick that hopefully is a lot bigger and more feathered now.

At the end of 2013 I migrated south to Costa Rica for a few weeks, which is still being chronicled on BB&B because I am so damn lazy...but not as lazy as Don Mastwell, who still needs to enter a bunch of eBird checklists. Anyways, the birding was facemelting. If you are contemplating taking your first trip down that way, don't let some hippie nonbirder friend of yours convince you to go to some other country down there instead where everything has been clearcut to death. Here is an Emerald (Blue-throated) Toucanet from La Cinchona.

Fast forward to this spring, when I moved to the Lower Rio Grande Valley for another couple of wind energy projects. I had ample time to bird and get to the coast, where I really got a heavy dose of migration in the eastern U.S. for the first time. I didn't really know what picture to put up to represent the birding there (a crowd of annoying/clueless photographers would have been appropriate) but I think this crushed Indigo Bunting from South Padre Island sums it up.

What better way to finish than with the rarest Vague Runt I've ever seen? A beloved albatross, no less? I've lead a lot of pelagic trips the last couple years, and this has been the bird of all birds. Thank you Salvin's Albatross, you were my destiny. Half Moon Bay, CA.

So Long California

Sometimes a bird will be so used to people that it maddeningly won't acknowledge your presence. If a bird can't be bothered to look at you, then the best thing to do is to crush the rest of its body. Great Blue Heron, Marin Civic Center, San Rafael, CA.

I've noticed that most of my posts lately have had some kind of central subject or theme to them, which is very unlike me...it's high time I do a potpourri (aka diarrhea) post. I don't do a very good job at keeping BB&B in sync with current events and photos that I take, so here's some randomness from the last couple of months...it may be my last California post for a while.

I haven't done that much birding lately...my year list could be a lot higher than it is, but that is something I can live with. If it wasn't for time spent in Baja, it would be borderline pathetic. Maybe that's not something the nation's #7 birder should readily admit to, but such is life. Of course, not being able to live with this fact would be shameful...I am not just a creature of lists and ticking. Tomorrow I embark on my road trip to the Lower Rio Grande Valley, so all that will change soon. My eBird rarity alerts no longer feature counties like Alameda, San Francisco and Marin...instead they are set to unfamiliar names like Cameron, Hidalgo, and Starr. The winds of change are blowing strong.

If you missed it, The Great Ornithologist Felonious Jive posted at 10,000 Birds on his feelings about being birding's ambassador, and how you too can share the stage. I can offer my own advice on the matter...more bourbon, less bitching.

Watching birds take baths is always fun. There seems to be a tangible enjoyment that they take in it...although I have seen a couple night-herons that seemed completely dismal about it. Snowy Egret, Marin Civic Center.

More plumes. I don't think of American White Pelicans as a tufted bird, but that's because I'm an idiot. Photographed at Lake Merritt, Oakland, CA. This is a free-flying bird, not Hank (a non-flying bird).

There is more than one tufted fowl that allows crushes at Lake Merritt.

I generally don't bother photographing this bird until February every year, because it just kind of looks like shit earlier in the season. It's flanks are now pristine and it's tuft grows more voluptuous by the day. I reckon it will be around for at least a couple more weeks.

It took me a few years to get a decent open-wing shot; this one works for me.

Birds are funny. Great Egret, Lake Merritt.

I am unhappy with all the Barnacle Geese that show up in the northeast every winter now. Not because I think they are all escapees, but because thousands of birders are gripping me off. At least we have Ross's Geese. Marin Civic Center.

Why the rippley neck? One of the great mysteries of the universe.

A drake Gadwall displays his bulging, scallopy breast. It's hard to look away. Marin Civic Center.

So majestic. Soon, I will find myself beleaguered by Mottled Ducks, which has been nominated for Most Boring Native Bird. Of course, two species of whistling-duck will be providing me company as well.

If Slartibartfast designed ducks instead of continents, there is no doubt he would get an award for Northern Pintail. Golden Gate Park, San Francisco, CA.

This Yellow-bellied Sapsucker (a BB&B first) was a cripple. Not a crippler, since it's pretty shoddy looking, but a cripple; it's right wing is pretty mangled and only useful in that it can aid in fluttering to the ground so the sapsucker could make it's way to the next closest tree. Canada Larga Road, Ventura County, CA.

Hopefully the wing injury wasn't permanent; at least the bird had a good food source.

Loggerhead Shrike is a fairly common bird that I love that I just have not administered a brutal crushing to yet. I'm working on it though. Canada Larga Road.

Cropped differently than the above photo. I think I like this version better.

Shorebird enjoyment: one of the handful of "family-friendly" activities that I can also condone. Middle Harbor Shoreline Park, Oakland, CA.

Dunlin and Western Sandpipers comprise the bulk of the big sandpiper flocks in the bay area in winter. The economy of style is almost too much to handle...thankfully, most other birds don't wear such dismal attire. Middle Harbor Shoreline Park.

American Avocets were one of the first birds I was really fond of before I became a birder. Not a trigger bird per se, but a solid gateway species. Middle Harbor Shoreline Park.

I get dangerously accustomed to Heermann's Gulls sometimes. They really are striking, and we are lucky to have them. Berkeley Fishing Pier, Berkeley, CA.

This gull had put on some eyeshadow to get the cat-eyed look that's popular with the ladies these days. It will undoubtedly be participating in numerous copulations once it gets to Baja.