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.

Semilocal Birding - Love, Contempt, a Prairie Falcon and a Falcon of the Prairie

Common as they may be, I've never been ungrateful for Common Loons...they have one of the best bird calls in the world, forage for crabs excellently and dive righteously. They are better-looking than Red-throated Loons, more approachable than Pacifics/Arctics, and only occasionally resemble Yellow-billed Loons...which are probably a more interesting bird, but I've only seen a couple. Emeryville Marina, Emeryville (duh), California (duh duh duh).

In recent years it has been a struggle to keep up with my formerly furious pace of blogging that once went hand-in-hand with The Perpetual Weekend...what is dead may never die. This is not due to a decreased interest in the Birdosphere or even laziness (!), but due to the horrible reality of having a permanent, full-time job...and now a full-time baby. Looking at my recent posts, I am happy to see a wide range of subjects being covered...Puerto Rico, eBird, Humboldt County, Ventura County, the "internet" (whatever that is), and best of all, Cass' Swainson's Thrush post...but one topic is noticeably absent. Where the fuck is the local birding?

Somehow, the bread and butter of almost all bird blogs has gone woefully unblogged in the past couple months. This blog glitch will now be fixed.

Pick your jaw up off the floor, dear reader...yes, this really is a SPOTTED SANDPIPER.

Fascinating that so many sandpiper and plover species can cram into so many different habitats, but the Spotted Sandpiper alone (in North America anyway) is willing to breed along rivers, creeks and mountain lakes. An ingenious move, as far as avoiding competition. Maybe this explains why they are so undiscerning about habitat selection outside of the breeding season...once they've mastered habitats that no other shorebird would dare to breed in, they can live anywhere.

Sadly, living in California does come with birding disadvantages, and the lack of sea duck diversity is one that stings every winter. Sure there are a couple Black Scoters here and a Harlequin Duck there, but Surf Scoter is the only common one. Keeping in line with this trend, Long-tailed Duck is a nice low-level rarity, and two in one place is a lot in California. These were the only Long-tailed Ducks I saw last year 😥. By the way, the caption in the Blogger toolbar for that emoji reads "Disappointed but relieved face."

San Francisco isn't that far from the east bay, but I've yet to bird it in 2017. I've caught a couple good shows there at least.

In January, very soon before Annabelle was born, I convinced Billy that going to see a Black-tailed Gull in Monterey was important for some reason. I thought I would dip...my luck with chasing Vague Runts had been exceptionally good for almost a year, and I was due to miss out on a lifer...and miss it we did! There were hardly any gulls to look through, and the bonus Slaty-backed Gull that had been hanging around was also absent. The lone birding highlight of the day was noticing a pair of Tundra Swans in a small slough as we ripped through the sky drove above them on an overpass.  Ah, what a relief...a sweet sweet self-found rarity, and a bird I missed entirely in 2016. Photographed south of Castroville.

After dipping on the Black-tailed Gull, I figured it was time I dip on something closer to home...the Harris's Sparrow at the Las Gallinas Ponds in Marin. This highly desirable bird had been present for several weeks, and it was high time I unsuccessfully searched for it. Despite putting in a great deal of time loitering around the parking lot waiting for the bird to show, I failed. Fortunately, this is a very birdy site in winter, so all was not lost. Lincoln's Sparrows are usually on the retiring side, but this one was bolder than most.

Song Sparrows are a great deal more common and confiding. Unlike their Lincoln's brethren, who swear a vow of silence every winter, Song Sparrows happily sing year-round.

Since we are on the topic of common birds that some of you are probably wincing at, this Common Yellowthroat should not surprise you. Sadly, California has just four common warbler species that overwinter - Yellow-rumped, Townsend's, Orange-crowned and yellowthroats. This is not an ideal situation. Hopefully a certain proposed split will pass, and we will have five species of warblers instead. Speaking of which...

Large numbers of Audubon's (above) and Myrtle Yellow-rumped Warblers both winter in the area. Perhaps no bird more personifies the phrase "familiarity breeds contempt". There is nothing at all about them that is not likable, they are just so fucking common that by the time you have been birding in this state a few years you have said or thought the phrase "Just a Yellow-rump" more than any other phrase you've said or thought in your life.

Here is a Myrtle, for your edification. I'm a bit more partial to Myrtles than Audubon's, partially because they have a more interesting face pattern and partially because they are kinda rare down Ventura way, which is where I started birding. Unfamiliarity breeds love. The vast majority of Audubon's and Myrtle alike will be gone within a month, but we will see the likes of them again.

Few of California's birds spend more time on the wing than the White-throated Swift, which are often easier to see near freeway overpasses (where they will roost and nest) than traditional birding spots. The Las Gallinas Ponds are a haven for swift and swallow alike throughout the year, so they can make for a good place to get good looks and poor photos of our only expected winter swift.

Good morning old friend.

Ah, the Sora. Few birds are so humble, yet so successful. You can see a Sora in the Yukon Territories, you can see a Sora in Ecuador. They are pleasant to come across wherever you may be.

This may look like a run-of-the-mill Red-winged Blackbird to you, but this is a mellow oh-that's-nice bird for discerning bay area birders. Bicolored Blackbirds are the abundant Red-winged form here, and females are extremely drab and dark, looking eerily similar to Tricolored Blackbirds. Bright, well-marked females like this are clearly from other realms, and stand out readily from the locals.

A solid highlight of the morning was Haynoring a Prairie Falcon perched on a transmission tower a mile away for a self-found sweet-but-hearty Marin County bird. Well, checking eBird, it looks like someone else found it a couple weeks earlier, but hey I didn't know that at the time. Speaking of falcons of the prairie...

Mmm yes, a prairie falcon indeed...this "Prairie" Merlin jumped off a fence post and took a bath in a puddle. This is what some would call a "lifer situation". I only see 1-2 Prairie Merlins per winter in California, so this crisp blue-backed bastard was a very good follow-up to the Prairie Falcon.

No Harris's Sparrow, but very good birding otherwise...my Marin County Snow Goose was foraging near the access road on the way out. Two Marin birds! Billy didn't go into labor while I was birding! Great success!

ID Challenges: The Worst of The West

Birding...it's not easy. Sure, there are times when you get out of the car, walk over to a group of birders, and they wave their hand at the staggering mega that is sitting there in front of you. Some birders will chase rarities, see the bird, then ask to have the field marks explained to them by others...how easy! How great! What else is great? Harlequin Ducks, Roseate Spoonbills, Elegant Trogons, Scissor-tailed Flycatchers, Scarlet Tanagers...those are beautiful, unmistakable birds.

Most birds? Not that easy. Not that easy to find, not that easy to see well, not that easy to identify. I thought I would take the time today to run down some of the hardest families of birds in the western Lower 48...people like lists, after all, particularly birders. There is some overlap here with other parts of the country, but there are distinct differences...for example, the east coast has more terns and thrushes, but less storm-petrels and hummingbirds.

Before we get to the list, I should name some Honorable Mentions that didn't quite make the Top Ten:

- Swans. Tundra vs. Trumpeter can be extremely challenging. Luckily, we only have two swan species to really worry about (until Bewick's Swan is split). That's a Tundra Swan up top there.

- Petrels. Petrels are arguably the most difficult of our birds, period. A large suite of them can potentially show up off our coast, very few birders know them well, and they rarely cooperate with boats or come close to seawatching sites. They fly incredibly fast and all come in white, gray, black and brown. However, they are rarely encountered relative to all the other birds we are discussing today; while often seen on repositioning cruises, there are few other instances when you can realistically expect to see them.

- Hawks. Hawk ID is not exceptionally complicated west of Texas, in my opinion, though obviously there are problematic plumages out there. Of course, Accipiters will always be misidentified by everybody, so hawks are deserving of a mention (an honorable one).

- Oystercatchers. This problem is unique to Southern California...Black Oystercatchers are as distinctive as any bird we have, but Black X American Oystercatcher hybrids and our local American Oystercatcher subspecies look confoundingly similar. American Oystercatcher is one of the most overreported birds in the area.

- Plovers. Telling apart American and Pacific Golden-Plovers can be absolutely excruciating. Beginning and intermediate birders will often misidentify Black-bellied Plovers for either Golden-Plover species. The smaller plovers aren't bad though.

- Crows and Ravens. Some birders can't tell crows and ravens apart from one another...well what about Common Raven vs. Chihuahuan Raven? American Crow vs. Northwestern Crow? In some places, these ID challenges can seem almost impossible to overcome, particularly with the crow situation in Washington.

- Gnatcatchers. If you are birding someplace where Black-capped Gnatcatcher can reasonably be found, the other two southwestern species can give you a world of trouble, especially if you don't find yourself birding down there very often and don't know the calls well. They are hyper little bastards, which makes seeing already subtle field marks an extremely taxing ordeal.

And now...the list!

#10 - Sparrows. The western U.S. is blessed/cursed with an impressive diversity of sparrows. The majority of them are migratory and/or have a tendency toward vagrancy, and they are all brown, brown, brown, brown, brown, brown brown...gray, and brown. However, though they are terrifying for beginners, sparrows aren't so bad once you've put some birding years in the rearview, and some of them are downright difficult to misidentify. That said, Spizella sparrows (like the Clay-colored above) can be especially vexing. Savannah Sparrows, one of the most abundant sparrows in the country, are arguably also the most misidentified of them all, as they can pass for Song, Lincoln's, Vesper and Baird's.

#9 - Sandpipers. Show me a rookie birder and I will show you someone who is going to be greatly troubled...by shorebirds, sandpipers in particular. The dowitcher duo is legendary, peep problems are relentless...to put it bluntly, almost every sandpiper species is at a high risk of being misidentified for something else. Those of us on the coast always have Siberian species on the brain, which complicates the picture even further...yikes. However, the "expected" species do become pretty familiar in time.

#8 - Warblers. Spring warblers are decidedly unproblematic, with the exception of waterthrushes (that's a whitish Northern above). However, you may not be aware that there are three other seasons. Most warblers do not have the same snappy facemelt in October that they do in April. They are referred to as "confusing fall warblers" for a reason, though I despise that tired and overused phrase. There are so many identification pitfalls here that there is no point in even starting in to them. Californians have it especially bad, since we have multiple records of almost every breeding warbler species in the country.

#7 - Vireos. Vireos make people very uncomfortable. Seen poorly enough, every single vireo species (with the exception of a vagrant White-eyed) stands a good chance of being misidentified. Just a few days ago on Facebook, I watched (seemingly in slow motion, like a car crash) in horror as a birder sought out the expertise of an expert, to identify a bird she had photographed very well. He called it an Orange-crowned Warbler...it was a Warbling Vireo. At least with a sandpiper you know it's a sandpiper...with vireos, people call them warblers (and vice versa) on the regular. The hardest vireos? Warbling vs. Philadelphia, and Blue-headed vs. Cassin's vs. Plumbeous. That's a Philadelphia above.

#6 - Longspurs. Away from the prairies of eastern Colorado, Wyoming and Montana, we don't even get to see longspurs in spring. When we get them, they always look like rubbish. Lapland (above) can look like Smith's, Smith's can look like Chesnut-collared, Chestnut-collared can look like McCown's. And 90% of the time, you are getting total garbage looks at them. They all look similar, their calls are not drastically different, and they hate being cooperative for birders. That is a recipe for pain.

#5 - Hummingbirds. Unlike sneaky longspurs and skulky warblers, you can typically get really solid looks at hummingbirds. That said, this may not be of much use to you if you are not prepared...male hummingbirds are facemelting birds, but young males (like the Costa's above) and females can be brutal. With the exceptions of Violet-crowned and maybe Berylline, I think every one of our young/female hummingbird species is at an extremely high risk of being misidentified. Don't believe me? Go geri-birding in Arizona and watch the carnage unfold.

#4 - Storm-petrels. I lead a lot of pelagic trips, and I will tell you that no group of birds strikes more fear into the heart of an inexperienced birder than these. When it comes to these birds, people seeing them for the first time completely surrender any attempt at an ID to the leaders on the boat. We could tell them whatever we wanted and get away with it (fortunately, we want to tell them the truth). Other than the lovely Fork-tailed Storm-Petrels (most of the birds above), they are either all small black birds or small black birds with white rumps. Generally, they want nothing to do with the boat you are on and you are going to be really unsatisfied looking a them if there is a big swell that day. New developments in the Leach's complex have everyone reeling. These are the birds your nightmares are made of.

#3 - Jaegers. You probably didn't see this being #3....but the difficulties of jaeger ID are legendary. Even dark Pomarines and South Polar Skuas get mixed up. Trying to ID certain individuals can lead to such circular logic and mental numbness that I am getting tired just thinking about it. Just be happy when you get to see "easy" individuals, like this Pomarine above.

#2 - Flycatchers. You know what? I haven't done a quiz in a while. What do you think this bird is? The answer is at the bottom of the post. Hint: It's a flycatcher.

Flycatchers are just heinous. Think about each gnarly genus we have all lumped into one jaw-clenching, teeth-grinding family...Contopus, Empidonax, Myiarchus, Tyrannus, etc. That's some heavy shit. The first three genera are especially bad. I don't even know what to tell you here, except to advise you that you can at least get close to the right species. Hammond's and Grays are not similar. Willows and Pacific-slopes are not a confusing couple. Buff-breasted do not look like pewees.

Pewees....yeah. Just identify pewees correctly (don't misidentify them for Empids) and you will command at least a small modicum of respect. Don't report an Eastern unless it's calling though, or you will be run out of your state.

#1 - Gulls. Obvi. I have nothing to say about gulls that you haven't heard before. This is a perfectly typical Herring Gull...I bet not many of you knew that.

There you have it, the list, for your edification and mine. Do you agree, or do I have it all wrong? Are ducks and geese deserving of being on the list? Are alcids alarming? Do Wrentits cause your brain to boggle? I hope not. At any rate, feel free to let us know.


p.s. The quiz bird is a Least Flycatcher. Props if you got it right. And before you descend into a nerdy rage, yes it is a flycatcher that breeds in western states. #notjustavaguerunt

Vagrants Become You

Tropical Kingbird. Manila (Humboldt County). Naked eye identification while going 55 mph. The bird wasn't even on the same street. That's why they call me "Number 7".

Unlike last fall, I have not decided to boycott birdwatching this year. This strategy has failed in getting any life birds (the one-day-wonder San Francisco Northern Wheater would have been one), and has succeeded in burning lots of money and gasoline. But most importantly (for me), I've actually been seeing a lot of good birds. Tufted Duck, Sharp-tailed Sandpiper, Red-throated Pipit, Cape May Warbler, Chestnut-sided Warbler, Red-throated Pipit, Clay-colored, Swamp and White-throated Sparrows, and Lapland Longspur are a few not pictured today. Just remembering them gives me the warm fuzzies.

"Good birds", in birder parlance, just means rare birds. Due to their obvious rarity, it's bloody hard to get pictures of rare birds, and so I find the most fitting shots of rare birds are the worst possible pictures (see Lucy's Warbler below). It's a good thing I am not a photographer, or else I would bring much Shame and Dishonor to my family.

Right. Here are a few decent birds from northern California, a veritable Shangri-la of vagrants. Bird here.

Orchard Oriole. Point Reyes. We walked up and someone pointed to this "Hooded Oriole". But the pictures tell a different story. Unfortunately for you, there is nothing in this image that would allude to either species. I just like the picture.

Tundra Swan. Pomponio State Beach. A rare bird in many parts of the state. Adults, being swans, appear very graceful, but this juvenile seems to be smiling about it's giant, pink, runny shnoz.

Yellow-throated Warbler. San Francisco. The same one as pictured a couple weeks ago. Hella rare. It's still here.

American Tree Sparrow. Point Reyes. Dan and I found this rufous-capped northern beast on the side of the road. 

The infamous Yellow-billed Loon. Sunnyvale. Many photographers got better pictures of it than me, but I never thought I would be lucky enough to get Yellow-billed Loon shots. This is the first one I've seen since the 90's...

Summer Tanager. San Francisco. The best birds to chase are the ones right down the street from your house.

Blackpoll Warbler. Arcata. Rob Fowler pished it in. Not super rare, but it was a Humboldt County bird for me.

Prairie Warbler. Point Reyes. I wonder if the disgruntled birder we ran into ever got to see it. If not, she probably went home and hurt herself. She really wanted to see it.

Ancient Murrelets. Half Moon Bay. While not insanely rare, its safe to say that this would be a life bird for many a birder out there. We were lucky enough to see over 30 birds last week, which is the most I've seen in California.

Lucy's Warbler. San Francisco. I think this is the quintessential rarity shot.

Greater White-fronted Goose. San Francisco. Not very rare, but I had to follow up the Lucy's Warbler with a better picture...

I've Become What I Hate

Good God. Look at this abomination. Two giant, jet black mutant feet. A massive, Hutt-like torso, with some sort of gull head protruding off to one side, all in a guise of angelic whiteness.



Actually, its an unseasonal Tundra Swan hanging out with a gull flock at Presque Isle.



Warblers are not easy to photograph, particularly when you are not posted up at a water source and can have them come to you. That would be too easy. Usually, the pictures you get end up looking like this Magnolia Warbler and Black-capped Chickadee.



But sometimes they come out a little bit better.





Least Flycatcher. This species, and other members of its genus, have been causing aneurysms and epilepsy among birders for as long birders have existed, due to the extreme difficulty in telling them apart.