Still S.E.V.E.N./Breaking Rad(ius)

How long has it been since the last post? I'm really dropping the ball over here. Well, I've been doing a lot of crud, and quite a bit of stuff too, so it's not like I've had ample opportunities to fire up the blogerator...but still. Even though it has not been sheer, bottomless laziness that is to blame, I have let you down all the same.

I have failed you.

But I am here now. BB&B languishes no longer. Withering away into oblivion is not fait accompli...at least, not yet. Before BB&B fades away, I must pass on all that I know. A thousand blog posts will live in you. Someday, this will be your fight.

And what a fight it will be. The truth about birders must be told, even after I am gone. Although our rate of posting has dwindled, BB&B is constantly taking the temperature of the birding community, and our recent findings are disconcerting at best. Birders are still as nonsensical, annoying, petty, anal and pedantic as ever...perhaps now more than ever. They still fail to apply basic concepts of science to their bizarre, baseless theories while claiming to embrace science. They are still obsessed with making everything into a hybrids. They still spew vicious, evil lies like "there is no such thing as a bad day of birding".

Unbelievable.

Someday, dear reader, you will construct your own lightsaber and your skills will be complete. Indeed, you will be powerful. But that day has not come yet...I am still here, and my journey is not yet over. I am still here, still the Global Birder Ranking System's #7 U.S. birder, still a birding master, still capturing the birding Zeitgeist like no blog ever has.

Still rock my khakis with a cuff and a crease.

Chances are most of you readers are too old or too young to know what that means, but for the rest of you, enjoy that easter egg. Now that we have reestablished my blog wizardry, I feel comfortable admitting to you a deeply shameful fact...September was an utter failure in terms of seeing rare birds. I didn't really chase very much (going to take this opportunity to pat myself on the back here), and while that may be admirable, I also didn't find jack shit locally. I can't remember the last time I went through September without seeing a single vague runt somewhere in the bay area...how embarrassing!

Apparently, I no longer see vagrants. I no longer see uncommon birds. What has happened to me? Can I just go #FULLGERI and retire so I can go bird all the time? If only there were a way...

No, this is not where I direct you to my gofundme page so you can pay for my birding trips. You're welcome.

No matter. The rarities will return, though they may or not be within my 5MR. It hasn't been too difficult to stay in the friendly confines of the 5MR for most of the year though. I've gotten a lot of new radius birds, seen some rarities, and found a couple really good ones of my own. However, that strategy has been backfiring a bit lately, and I think one of the best ways to maintain a good relationship with your radius is to know when to break free of your radial shackles!

So with that in mind, here is some non-radial stuff from earlier this year.

Countless birders went to see this Eastern Bell's Vireo when it set up a territory for a couple of weeks in late spring. Not only was this my first Bell's Vireo of any subspecies in Santa Clara County, this was my first Eastern seen in the state. Easterns are exceptionally rare in California and practically unheard of in spring...it's worth wondering if this split will be revisited again. I've only seen one or two of these before, so this relatively cooperative vague runt gets FIVE STARS. Photographed at Don Edwards National Wildlife Refuge, Santa Clara County.

A day later, I hiked out on a trail I had previously not heard of for another county bird, an Indigo Bunting. While it wasn't very cooperative, I did appreciate that it dispensed with the suspense and appeared almost immediately upon my arrival. Photographed on the Stanford Dish Trail, Santa Clara County.

Dark-eyed Juncos isn't the slightest bit rare, but I appreciate friendly ones like this. This was photograped at New Brighton State Beach in Santa Cruz County, where I also got my lifer great white sharks! Standing on a fairly crowded beach while a bunch of (mostly small) sharks swim offshore is quite the spectacle, very Jawsish in a low intensity kind of way. Best moment: despite everyone on the beach knowing there were sharks visible just offshore, a dude on a stand up paddleboard tried to be all nonchalant and paddle around anyway, but had to frantically turn around and paddle to shore when a shark came up next to him. Golden!

The easiest, most reliable Red-footed Booby in the Lower 48 has made its home roost at the end of the Seacliff Pier in Capitola for spans of 2018 and 2019. It's still there, being awesome. Of all the booby species, this one has been the hardest to chase in California until very recently, as they had a penchant of dying immediately after being found. This one is holding it down though.

Here it is back in 2018. Back then, it looked a bit more blonde-headed and pink-billed.

I live near sea otters. They are very east to see down at Moss Landing (where this one was) and in the Monterey area. This proximity has enriched my life. Everyone would be a lot happier if they had access to sea otters. Alas, most of the world is a sea otter desert.

And so the world burns.

Unlike otters, summertime Long-tailed Ducks are not at all expected, as they are a good find even during winter. These two decided to pass their time going through gnarly molts in Moss Landing. 

After driving by it countless times without stopping, I finally checked out Moss Landing Wildlife Area. I'm glad I did, because there was a Snowy Plover nest hatching right next to the trail! Crazy timing. Look at that little chickie! It's still wet and has eggshell in its down. I spent less than 30 seconds next to the nest and then booked it out of there to make sure it was minimally disturbed...after all, I am not a photographer. Hey-oh!

Microfishing is all the rage now but Great Egrets have been doing it since there have been Great Egrets. Photographed at Shoreline Lake, Santa Clara County.

Can you imagine connecting with this microtrophy with hook and line? Oh, the stories you could tell. 

Shoreline Lake is also a popular fishing spot for Forster's Terns and a great place to see them up close, since they are very acclimated to fishing next to the well-trafficked footpath. I love me some acclimation. Too bad the Black Skimmers that nest there now aren't so prone to cruising by the shore.

It's not like I'm a photographer or anything, but one of my favorite things to shoot is terns in flight. Shooting many flying birds (swifts, hummingbirds, most passerines, almost anything on pelagic trips) often ends in nothing but crushed hopes, massive disappointments and some mediocre keepers, but terns have such nice lines, some tolerance for people and aren't obnoxiously small. Also, anything that feeds by plunge diving gets extra points from me.

Willets are underappreciated. Nice to see this confiding friend just returned from its breeding grounds...where their obnoxiousness is what is unappreciated. Being near a Willet nest is not a pleasant sensory experience. Photographed at Shoreline Lake.

Cliff Swallows are still occupying their wonderful ovenish nests in late summer. Photographed at the Palo Alto Baylands, Santa Clara County.

At the Casey Forebay pumphouse, I settled in to sort through the swallows that roost there. I don't get to see/study juvenile swallows as well or as often as I would like, and the flock here provides a good opportunity to see birds up close. Here is a somewhat bedraggled adult Cliff flanked by juveniles.

I was surprised to find this white faced juvenile Cliff Swallow. At first I thought it was an abnormality, but then I noticed several other white-faced juveniles in the flock.

This is a different individual. Bizarre. Well it's most likely not bizarre at all, but I did not expect it. Anyone know what's up with this whiteness? How long it is retained? Do only a minority of birds get this or is this a pretty typical part of their molt?

In the back of my mind, I had an alterior motive for standing there with the swallows. I wanted to find a Bank Swallow. They are a rarity in Santa Clara and I had never seen one here. You can imagine my surprise when one casually swooped in and landed on the railing 15 feet from me, allowing me to crush it through the chain link fence.

Uh....what? Finding rare birds usually does not work like that. Finding a rarity...a county bird...is always ace, but finding one in July is the icing on the cake. Having the bird come to you within scope and tripod hurling distance is the crushed up painkillers sprinkled on the icing on the cake. This business with betraying one's radius is not so bad after all, eh? Although they nest at a couple places on the coast, I don't often get to see Bank Swallows and this was my one and only of the year.

While the Bank Swallow was confiding, it did not stick around for long so I was left with the other swallow species. It was cool to have all the other brown swallows represent in the swallow roost, which made for a great comparison with the Bank and with one another. Here is a juvenile Tree Swallow.

And here it is bellowing.

Here is a juvenile Violet-green Swallow, showing just a tad bit of white above and behind the eye.

And last but for once not least, here is a juvenile Northern Rough-winged Swallow. Yes, typically this swallow is one of the absolute drabbest North American birds, but they are pretty cool looking as juveniles! So many rich colors...relatively speaking! A veritable rainbow of browns. I'm probably about done taking swallow pictures for the year, so I hope you enjoyed the brownbow!

Swift and Swallow Swarm, Yellow-throated Vireo, Summer Birds

Are you ready for another barrage of photos? Here goes...

One of the birding perks of being located where I am is the number of Vaux's Swifts present from April-September. This one is about to gobble its target, which you can see floating around innocently in the top left corner.

One day last spring I set out to get some Vaux's Swift photos that weren't completely horrendous for a change, which I did have some success with. I didn't have to go far...the swifts are a daily fixture at the Los Capitancillos Ponds, which are the ponds behind my backyard.

Few birds are more frustrating to photograph than swifts, but it was fun to see so many foraging down low. It turned out there was a big insect hatch in the ponds that day, and a swarm of swifts and swallows were feeding near eye level next to the trail.

My camera decided to focus on the rear bird in this photo...

...but a second later, locked on to the front bird when it suddenly banked.

Here is an eBird abundance map for Vaux's Swift in the region - I live in the single, darker purple cell that denotes more frequent observations than the rest of the area. For whatever reason, the ponds (and my yard!) is one of the most reliable places to see them in central California. It's no McNear Brickyard, but it suits me.

White-throated Swifts are much less common in the immediate area, but are generally much easier to find in the bay area; they will often nest under highway overpasses, and there is no shortage of those here.

Juvenile Anna's Hummingbirds can make for a challenging ID, as they typically lack any markings on the throat. This can render them into Costa's or Black-chinned imposters.

The faint rows of tiny spots this bird is displaying looks a lot different from the big dark blotch on the throat an adult female will show.

Black Phoebe production in the area is satisfactory.

Amazingly, while standing in the swift blizzard I managed a couple flight shots of a male Violet-green Swallow, often overlooked as one of the most crippling species in the west. Odd that Northern Rough-winged Swallows and Violet-green Facemelters occupy much of the same range and habitats, and aside from nest sites, they generally behave very similarly. Yet the males of one species are stunning, but poo-colored in the other.

That color on the rump is hard to fathom, and the only other ABA Area species that I can think of that has something close is Varied Bunting.

Tree Swallows, on the other hand, are significantly more fathomable. I saw them at the ponds very infrequently this year, and I spent an inordinate amount of time standing in the backyard checking swallow flocks for Bank Swallow/Purple Martin/Black Swift. Better luck next year with those, hopefully.

Late May and early June is when the window is open in California for spring vagues. These spring rarities are a different beast than the fall birds though...they can often be found by song (great!) and look their best (sick), but except at a handful of desert sites there are far fewer of them and they are much less chaseable. Always in a hurry to get someplace, they are. Other than the Black-and-white from the last post, I only managed to see this one other eastern bird last spring, but it was a great one.

Yellow-throated Vireo is a wonderful bird to see in California. Though not a Bird Police species, they are rare enough that most birders here will start grinding their teeth upon hearing about them. This is only the second individual I've ever seen in the state, and it was a hell of a lot more cooperative than the first.

This bird roamed around a few blocks at Moss Beach, adjacent to the Fitzgerald Marine Reserve. Amazingly, it stayed over a week before taking off to points unknown.

White-crowned Sparrow is one of the most abundant birds around here now, but most of these birds are migratory and leave in March and April. This is one of the year-round residents. Photographed at Half Moon Bay.

Hey! It's a Spotted Towhee! Also in Half Moon Bay.

In June we went south for Peak's wedding, which was fantastic as expected, but not good blog-fodder for nerds. I was able to get one morning of birding in with Dipper Dan. No rarity glory - finding a spring vague runt in Ventura County is like winning the lottery - but I got my 2017 Blue Grosbeaks at Canada Larga Road, where this Hooded Oriole teed up briefly. See you in March, Hooded Oriole.

A Black-headed Grosbeak did the same. We will reunite in April, Black-headed Grosbeak.

It's all about the juniper...and I do mean an actual juniper tree, not Juniper Titmouse. This is an Oak Titmouse in the backyard juniper tree. The juniper tree is crucial to what goes on here at Rancho del Bastardos - birds love it. One of these days I'm going to do another thorough yard post, and you too can share in the glory of my juniper tree. I'm also going to have to change the name of Rancho del Bastardos, as it's been pointed out to me by a couple people that my Spanish is bad and the name of my Rancho is gramatically incorrect...and you fucking bird people cannot sleep at night if you've encountered bad grammar during the day, so I will concede that something must be done.

Look at the soft complexion of this gentle titmouse. This Oak Titmouse in a juniper. Backyard birding during the summer was just slightly more surprising than watching paint dry, but we did get titmice in the yard a lot for a couple months - these days I typically only hear them calling from across the ponds.

Alright, that's enough, this was a pretty extensive post. Go birding, drinking whisky, etc.

Sierra Summer Birding Part II

Ahhh...this next batch of blogs is going to be very refreshing. Refreshing like how this Osprey feels when diving into a lake at 9,770 feet at Virginia Lakes. You see, I've largely managed to escape the "summer doldrums" this year, which is an important thing to avoid if you want to keep your birding sanity. Mountains have everything to do with it, not to mention early fall shorebirds...but that is for a later post. For now, its back to the Sierras.

After breakfast with the rosy-finches, Billy and I rolled down to the Bodie Hills to track down Pinyon Jays and Juniper Titmice. A jay abided, the tits did not. We did get a quality wildflower show, and Billy managed to find a solitaire nest under a boulder...a lifer nest! After leaving the hills, it was north to Bridgeport Reservoir, which I hadn't birded in many years. The south end was very birdy and coughed up a few county birds, the best of which was a distant Bald Eagle. In the afternoon Lee Vining Creek Delta (just north of Lee Vining, on Mono Lake) relinquished a few more interesting birds, in the form of Whimbrel, Caspian Tern, and some Great-tailed Grackles.

The following day we birded along the south shore of the lake and the "Mono Mills" area. Navy Beach was hella birdy, but since it was early June the diversity of species was abhorrent. Bleak, but as all the local birders must know, the potential here is real.

All in all it was a solid trip. We birded, we camped, we drank, we transported Art, and I turned 34. I'll just put up some photos now.

MacGillivray's Warblers were everywhere in the mountains. This bird was vigorously singing at our campground in Lee Vining Canyon, former home of The Grub. The Grub now lives at a nearby undisclosed location, where he has hummingbird feeders up that are currently being very well attended. That's right, The Grub has become a Geribirder.

This bird had raging hormones and let me approach as close as I could while it sang away...pretty crippling looks, probably the best I'll have of the bird this year. And who was MacGillivray you ask? William MacGillivray was a Scottish ornithologist. John James Audubon was his bro (brornithologist), and named the bird after Willie Mac. The species was actually discovered by John Kirk Townsend (of solitaire and warbler fame).

This Gray Flycatcher was south of Mono Lake, just west of the big Jeffrey Pine forest, out in the sage flats. We also had another Pinyon Jay out here, which is pretty typical despite the fact that we don't associate them with treeless areas.

As the #7 U.S. birder (according to the Global Birder Ranking System), I have something to admit to you all...aside from Buff-breasted Flycatcher, Gray Flycatcher is the easiest Empidonax to identify north of Mexico. Think about it...Willows look like Alders, Leasts can look like all sorts of things, Duskies look like Hammond's, Pacific-slopes and Cordillerans are identical, Yellow-bellieds can look like Leasts and Westerns, and Acadians can resemble all manner of things if seen poorly enough. Unlike these other species, Gray Flycatchers look incredibly consistent...in my experience they display little variability in color of the lower mandible and overall plumage. The long bill, dull color, stubby primaries, and amount of orange/yellow in the bill are very dependable field marks...the most variable field mark to me is the eyering, which can be weak to moderately bold. I reckon it is a pretty easy bird to identify, even without their distinctive summer/winter habitat preferences and tail-dipping habit that a lot of birders like to key in on.

The Jeffrey Pine forest south of Mono Lake was carpeted in Dwarf Monkeyflower. It was most mellow. This is a Pinyon Jay stronghold, the most reliable place to get them that I can think of. I imagine that every Pinyon Jays knows of this place, for it is sacred to them.

Huge blankets of the stuff turned the forest floor pink. Facemelting.

I thought this was a boldly-marked Sagebrush Lizard at the time, but now am not so confident about that. Birding is hard.

The Mono Basin is filled to the brim with Sage Thrashers in spring and summer. Funny how out-of-range Sage Thrashers tend to be so approachable, but they have always kept their distance from me in the places they "belong". One thing is for certain though...they belong in my heart.

Absurd numbers of Violet-green Swallows breed around Mono Lake. Tufa towers make very good homes apparently.

They also make good perches. For crushing. This Violet-green is not only sitting on tufa...it is being framed by tufa. Does anyone want to see my exif data for this photo? This was not in Colorado. And if any of you get that joke, my work is done here.

Ok, my work is almost done here. I'll leave you today with an excerpt from William Dawson, who has no equal in the realm of birdwriting.

What shall we do for the Violet-green Swallows? Simply this: we will call them children of heaven. 

To appear to the best advantage, this child of heaven should be seen on a typical California day, burning bright, when the livid green of back and crown may reflect the ardent glances of the sun with a delicate golden sheen. The violet of upper tail-coverts and rump comes to view only in changing flashes; but one catches such visions as a beggar flung coins, and adds image to image until he has a full concept of this rainbow hue. At such a time, if one is clambering about the skirting of some rugged precipice in Yosemite, he feels as if the dwellers of Olympus had come down in appropriate guise to inquire his earth-born business. Not, however, that these lovely creatures are either meddlesome or shrewish. Even when the nest is threatened by the strange presence, the birds seem unable to form any conception of harm, and pursue their way in sunny disregard. Especially pleasing to the eye is the pure white of the bird's underparts, rising high on flanks and cheeks, and sharply contrasting with the pattern of violet and green, in such fashion that, if Nature had invited us to "remold it nearer to the heart's desire," we must have declined the task.