The Best Birding

Prairie birds have left a lasting, indelible mark on my soul. It didn't make the list today, but I highly recommend birding the prairies and wetlands of eastern Montana and western North Dakota during the warm months. This friendly Chestnut-collared Longspur was at Medicine Lake National Wildlife Refuge, Montana.

Great birding. Don't you love it? Is that question even necessary? I would argue that with all the different ways birders get their kicks now, it is. Now I'm not talking about watching a Black-backed Oriole of dubious origins at a Pennsylvania bird feeder, or driving 7 hours to chase a Northern Parula because it is in a county you have not seen one in before, or the time you had to elbow your way through a crowd of crazed photographers to see your first Snowy Owl...I'm talking about actual great birding. Birding that sticks with you for a lifetime, and the birding that will surface in your mind while you lie on your deathbed, if only for an instant. While some perpetually chase the rarity dragon (or the bizarre County Bird Dragon) without reprieve, others have seen the light and set aside time and resources in search of great birding. Truly great birding often means travel to faraway places and getting drenched in bucketloads of lifers, but not always! Just because familiarity breeds contempt doesn't mean some of the most monumental birding you've ever experienced could not have happened in your own state, or (if you are really lucky) your own county.

Every now and then I get asked about the best places I've birded, and that question is blog fodder without doubt. I've finally given it enough consideration, and so this post is birthed into the Birdosphere. Below, in no particular order, are the places where I've had the best birding experiences. I won't claim they are actually the best places in the world to bird or anything, but these are the places where I've had my greatest successes. It's a bit heavy on California (what do you expect?) and a bit light on Ecuador (never been there), but I had a lot of fun putting this list together. Lots of memories of good times, some bad, but without exception, fantastic birding.

El Cielo Biosphere Preserve (and environs), Mexico - Just like Justyn ("JUH-STEEN") did before me, I had my first taste of tropical birding at El Cielo Biosphere Preserve and surrounding areas in the state of Tamaulipas. The quality of the birding there was unlike anything I'd ever encountered north of the border...Singing Quail, Blue-crowned (now Blue-capped) Motmots, Blue Mockingbirds, Crimson-collared and Hooded Grosbeaks, tanagers galore, Crescent-chested and Fan-tailed Warblers, rampaging mixed flocks the size of Rhode Island, etc. Oh yeah, and this is all less than a day's drive from Texas! That's right, you can wake up in the United States, drive for a while, and be looking at Bat Falcons and Squirrel Cuckoos before the sun begins to set...for you birders wholly focused on the ABA Area, the birds of the Lower Rio Grande Valley are just the tip of the avian iceburg, if you know what I'm saying. Anyways, at some point while we were there I think my face completely melted off my head and dripped into the leaf litter; fragments were carried off into the underbrush by enterprising Spot-breasted Wrens and Gray-breasted Wood-Wrens. Birding there really messed with my priorities in life, and things have never been the same.

The ongoing war with the cartels in Tamaulipas is a huge bummer on many levels...birders essentially no longer having access to the entire state (for safety reasons) is a minor one compared to people dying and families being torn apart, but since we are birders it still sucks. I believe there are currently three cartels in the state currently warring with one another, not to mention warring with the Mexican government. I have no photos from here because one of the cartels relieved me of my camera later in the trip (not near the preserve). I'd absolutely love to come back to this place someday though, if and when things ever settle down.

Red-footed Boobies cuddle at their nest in a Naupaka bush on Eastern Island at Midway Atoll. How can you describe such faces? I suggest that they are "dreamy".

Midway Atoll -  I've blogged extensively about Midway here, so I'll keep this short and sweet. Being among the seabirds at Midway is amazing, and that is not hyperbole. The other birds there ain't bad either (i.e. Laysan Ducks, piles of Pacific Golden-Plovers, Bristle-thighed Curlews). The birding here is quality over quantity for sure - you will never rack up a huge species list, but your experiences with the birds that are here will stay with you forever. Nothing I can say really does it justice. I do hope I can go back someday, but in case I don't at least I won't miss the horrible centipedes. I hate them.

Braulio Carillo National Park (Quebrada Gonzales), Costa Rica - On my lone trip to Costa Rica (seems like it's time for another) I was able to cover a large part of the country, lifering constantly and finding great birding more days than not. With that said, the birding at this particular site really stands out in my mind still. Some of the best mixed flocks I've seen in my life have been here - they were nothing short of spectacular. I'm not even going to tell you what we saw, it won't come close to capturing the size and diversity of the flocks here. I didn't even bother trying to take photos of birds here - that's right, the birding was too good to even bother with photography. If you are going to find yourself birding the Sarapiqui region at any point, DO NOT miss this site.

Also, we totally dipped on Snowcap and Black-crested Coquette at a reliable site just down the road from there, and I'm still pretty torn up about it. Redemption and vindication on this front are much desired.

Almost everyone who has seen Buller's Shearwater well has become enamored with them, and I am no different. Can't wait to see more of these squid-fiends this year. Photographed somewhere west of Half Moon Bay.

Pelagic Trips out of Half Moon Bay, California - I've done more of these than I can remember, and some of them were pretty poor, but there have been so many good ones! We have had some truly great days out there. The seabird diversity can be fantastic, and it is one of the best places in the country to see large numbers of storm-petrels, which includes four regularly-occurring species. I've seen five murrelet species on those trips, and had the honor to be out on the water the day of the Salvin's Albatross. Looking forward to getting back out there.

Blackburnian Warbler is a big deal to a lot of people. This is totally justified. Photographed at the community center on South Padre Island.

South Padre Island, Texas - I've harped on this a lot over the years, but I cannot emphasize enough how different migration is in the western U.S. than it is in the east. There is a reason that California birders are like "oh spring will be here soon, I guess that's cool, some year birds are coming, Lazuli Buntings are pretty" and eastern birders are like "FUCK YES SPRING YES YES YES YES PLUNGE THE WARBLER SYRINGE INTO MY CHEST". Hell, the last BB&B post (RETURN OF THE GERI) was all about birding the Texas coast. Anyways, this is a great migrant trap and I got really addicted to birding there during spring migration, but it's all done in a pretty strange setting.

Yellow-throated Warbler was one of many migrants that had a layover at Garden Key in Dry Tortugas National Park. I can see why everyone goes in spring, but I was pleasantly surprised at the diversity of species recorded on a multi-day October trip.

Dry Tortugas National Park, Florida - I was there in October for several days (we camped)...a great time was had by all, and though some days were better than others, the birding was generally very satisfying. No one really birds it in fall, so I didn't know what to expect, but I left with a full heart and a sizable island list. Talk about a scenic migrant trap, goddamn! What a fun place to bird. Some of the newly arrived migrants were really tame, such as the Black-throated Blue Warbler that landed on our picnic table and the Ovenbird that foraged beneath it. There weren't even any Sooty Terns or noddies around (we were too late in the season) and the drip wasn't even running (I overheard some poorly uninformed woman who worked there claim it would prevent birds from migrating south for the winter...astounding), and it was still pretty sick. Need to go back in spring.

A Black Skimmer pulls up after slicing through the waters of Sonny Bono National Wildlife Refuge (Wister Unit) at the Salton Sea.

The Salton Sea, California - The Salton Sea has a special place in the hearts of many. There is nowhere else like it, especially when you consider the human aspects, landscape, habitats, smells and birds as a whole. Birding the sea used to be, well, phenomenal. The sheer numbers of birds was staggering. It's still pretty good, but water levels have declined greatly over the last 20 years and a lot of formerly great spots are high and dry, and the salt and the pollution in what's left is even more concentrated; it's been some years since I birded it but those seemingly unending flocks of birds that used to be such a constant are getting harder and harder to come by. Sadly, Fulvous Whistling-Ducks have disappeared entirely and no Wood Storks have been seen since 2015. Yellow-footed Gulls continue to be dependable at least. The future of the sea is completely uncertain at this point, and it's anyone's guess what the birding will be like in a few decades...but it was glorious.

I try to reacquaint myself with Flame-colored Tanagers every couple of years; the mountains of Nayarit and Jalisco are a great place to do this. This one was parked above an army ant swarm at Sierra de San Juan in Nayarit.

Nayarit and Jalisco, Mexico - This one is really cheating. I can't just throw in two entire states can I? But I did. There are birding sites galore. There is a vast menu of mouth-watering species possible, including regional endemics. There is a lot of variety in elevation, and thus a lot of different habitats. The river trip with Chencho up Rio Lo Tovara is not to be missed! And unlike other parts of the country, there is a lot of high-quality, accessible habitat in these states, and you aren't forced in to birding from the side of a highway very much. I think these states often get overlooked by gringo birders in favor of Oaxaca, Chiapas or the Yucatan Peninsula, but they require your attention, I assure you.

I have no memory of taking this photo, but stoked I unearthed it...an Olive-sided Flycatcher with a tarantula hawk! If this was a female (who possess the famously potent stinger), this is a seriously badass prey item. Photographed at Galileo Hill.

Kern County California oases - Some of the rarities southern California gets really grip me off (Olive-backed Pipit quickly comes to mind), but I really miss birding the desert in late spring and fall, especially the Kern County sites. Galileo Hill might as well have been built by birders for the sole reason to make a giant migrant trap in the middle of the desert - that's not what it is meant for, but that is what it is. In the last few years, state megas like Buff-breasted Flycatcher (the state's first), Gray-cheeked Thrush and Red-faced Warbler have turned up here. California City is not really what it used to be, but Butterbredt Springs is still legendary. Lots of birds, lots of variety, lots of rarities and some distinct weirdness at these sites, and I wish they weren't so far away.

Did you know that Crested and Least Auklets form giant murmurations that rival any flock of sandpipers, blackbirds or starlings? I didn't either, until I got to the Aleutians. It's really something to behold...a magical experience even, particularly when you have the privilege of having these flocks zooming by a few feet overhead. This is an uncropped, unshrunken photo by the way, feel free to double click for a better look at the birds.

Buldir Island, Alaska. Working and living on Buldir was more like being a part of a wildlife spectacle than birding, though we certainly put in our time searching for Sibes and found a modest number of them. By Buldir standards, I was there on a relatively poor year for vague runts (in the next couple of years after I was there, Eurasian Bittern and Eurasian Oystercatcher were recorded!), but I can't complain very much. The seabirds though....wow. Both the numbers and diversity that nest there are on a whole other level, the likes of which I may not see again. You end up getting attached to birds like Whiskered Auklets and Red-legged Kittwakes, especially if you have to handle them, which is a trip in and of itself.

Honorable mentions of areas that didn't quite make this post go to southeast Arizona, large chunks of Costa Rica, the prairies of Montana and North Dakota, Point Reyes (CA), and the good old Oxnard Plain (CA), which is what I was reared on. And yes yes yes I know how great [insert country here] can be, but chances are I haven't been there yet, no need to convince me. Obviously, a great deal of birding needs to be done in places I've never been before, and just exploring the lands (and seas!) of this continent will take many more years to come.

But I have to ask...what would you put on your list? Anywhere that people wouldn't immediately think of? Light up those comments nerds.

Trembling and Giddiness, Globetrotters, Winning Hearts and Minds with Weird

Shorebirds.  Gotta love 'em. I've always loved shorebirds...the first rare birds I ever saw, on the same day, were a god damned Mountain Plover and a fucking Ruff.  So an affection shorebirds is deeply ingrained in me.

I recently went out to Alameda in order to track down my county Baird's Sandpiper, something I used to see on the regular...but for some reason it has not been a forthcoming bird for me in recent years, at least here in the bay area. The juvenile Baird's was easy to find, and quickly the outing devolved from a noble chase into a gluttonous crush fest of small shorebirds. This Baird's was the most cooperative of its species I have ever met, and its proximity caused much trembling and giddiness.

The birds were feeding on a big mat of algae that had piled up along a breakwater at the north end of the Elsie Roemer Bird Sanctuary, which can be a great shorebirding spot at the right tide...considering the number of birds that pile up there, the place is overdue for a solid rarity I reckon. The number of flies feeding on the algae was staggering, and the peeps were loving it.

Baird's Sandpipers have longs wings!  So majestic.

Sorry if you thought that last shot was too far away. Here is a closer one.

Most Western Sandpipers I've seen lately have been juveniles, only a few months old.  I can't fathom how these birds (and many other species) hatch on the tundra and then migrate thousands of miles away in the correct direction a few months later. Well, I can fathom it, but it's still a difficult thing to accept.  A human being is essentially worthless at three months of age, and a peep is a globetrotter.

There are a lot of juvenile Least Sandpipers around now as well. Some of these birds are very bright...too bad their reward for making it through their first year will be looking incredibly drab for the rest of their lives.

These tiny flies must look enormous and juicy if you are the size of a Least Sandpiper.

Black Turnstones will abandon their rocky strongholds if there is enough food to attempt them.

There are a lot of crisp juvenile Sanderlings around now as well. While they do have a distinct preference for wintering in saltwater/brackish habitats, they can do it about anywhere. This bird could decide to drop anchor here in San Francisco Bay for the winter or keep going all the way down to Chile or Argentina.

Black Oystercatchers hold down the breakwater with bigger breakwater buddies.

I haven't been to Radio Road in days. By days, I mean hella days, like hundreds of them. They had some avian cholera popping off in the ponds last year so they had them all drained for a while. Eventually they refilled the ponds and it is essentially back to the good birding spot it once was. A bunch of Forster's Terns bred there this year, so I thought I would lurk down to check out the tern scene and see if any interesting shorebirds could be parsed out from the masses.

There were terns of all ages present...tiny downy chicks, recently fledged juveniles (like this one), and somewhat haggard looking adults.

Whenever an adult tern would fly by, all the juveniles would start begging in unison.

Even the juveniles have some burgeoning elegance in them, although it is mostly buried under young awkwardness.

A pair of Black Skimmers were also present, looking weird as usual and being generally enjoyable to look at. Skimmers never fail to make a mark on someone who has not seen one before. Most birds that are so good at leaving an impression are either majestic, facemelting...or an owl. People really like owls. Skimmers win over hearts and minds by just being weird.

Radio Road is the best spot in northern California to see skimmers, which are irregular north of Santa Barbara County. The birds are pretty reliable for a good chunk of the year and do not require any sort of scoping to get a decent look at.

Hella shorebirds at Radio Road, as usual, but nothing weird outside of a couple Lesser Yellowlegs. Here is an s-shaped roost for the hell of it.

No, I'm not going to do a "why did the tern cross the street" joke, that would be highly regrettable and ultimately tragic. Radio Road is in Redwood Shores and is a good place shorebirds, waterfowl (Eurasian Wigeon in winter) and crushing in general, it's a good spot to check out if you're visiting the bay or want to take a beginner out birding.

HBP Presents: Lazy Birders And The Hybrid Theory

Someone recently suggested that this Tufted Duck was a hybrid because of the tiny gray patch at the rear of the bird's flank, which came across as a real facepalm moment. This is part of a disturbing trend, and it must be stopped. Photographed at Lake Merritt, Oakland, CA.

Hybrid Theory: The assertion that an identification cannot be made because the bird in question does not conform to readily available field guides. Therefore, said bird must be a hybrid. Proponents of hybrid theory often do not take into account natural variations in plumage, leucism, pollen stains, etc. that could render a bird to appear differently than in field guides.

Birders are in to birding for many reasons, some of which rank higher on the moral and spiritual scale than others. But one thing all of us can agree on, whether you are the nation's #7 birder or a noob, is that we enjoy being correct...specifically, correctly identifying a bird.

Correctly identifying a bird, be it by eye or by ear (and for some bird-wizards, by smell), serves two purposes. One is that bird identification is a skill we all want to be good at, and we can't enjoy new and unusual (or old and ordinary) birds if we don't know them when they are right in front of us. Two, since birders are rooted deeply in nerddom, we really, really just want to be right. The latter tendency frequently manifests itself in the forms of petty fights on forums and listservs, which you are all familiar with, for good or ill.

These days, birders seem willing to suggest that some of the most unique species, like this Black Skimmer, could be some sort of hybrid if something appears the slightest bit "off". We are here today to put this disturbing trend under the high-powered looking glass of BB&B, and put an end to the madness. Photographed at the south end of the Salton Sea, CA.

But what happens when you don't have the chops to make a tough identification? Rather than abstain from identifying the bird at all (often a very respectable decision, I might add), a birder succumbs to his/her urge to put some kind of name on bird. Alas, the confused birder calls it a hybrid.

Hybrids. Ugh. We all hate them. The spawn of two different species. Abominations against God and against our trusted field guides. Hell, they force us to question the very concept of a "species". They are hard to identify and, unless you keep a serious hybrid list, simply cannot be ticked.

Perhaps you knew all this already...but BB&B is here today to make the bold assertion that the increasing use of Hybrid Theory is not a result of increased hybridzation among birds or an increased wealth of knowledge about interbreeding...unfortunately, it is nothing but good old fashioned laziness.

This sparrow looks like a Clay-colored sparrow...but the unusual dark mark above the eye points to a mixed ancestry...right? No. Missing feathers (often caused by a close call with a predator) can significantly alter a birds appearance. Photographed at Sutro Heights Park, San Francisco, CA.

This albatross looks like a Black-footed...but the excessive amount of white on the head points to a mixed ancestry...right? No. Feather wear and sun bleach can significantly alter a bird's appearance. Photographed off of Monterey, CA.

This hummingbird looks like a Costa's...but the excessive amount of darkness on the throat points to a mixed ancestry...right? No. Immature birds are frequently in a state of molt not well-illustrated in field guides. Young male Costa's typically show a dark throat patch. Photographed at Agua Caliente County Park (in Anza Borrego State Park), CA.

Even with the HUGE caveat that yes, large gulls get it on with just about anything that has a cloaca (ducks and geese aren't exactly picky either), I am astounded by how often birders seem to go with the Hybrid Theory whenever they are faced with an unusual bird. Despite how things are now, it has not always been this way. Generally speaking, hybrid birds are pretty rare. Much more likely are birds that simply don't match the field guides for whatever reason. Think about it; field guides attempt to encapsulate species that may have populations of millions with 3 or 4 pictures or illustrations...no matter the quality, the books are bound to fail for some individuals.

Now for some real hybirds...here is well-known one, a Mallard X Gadwall. Mallards will breed with practically anything, given the chance. Let's hope that they do not begin interbreeding with gulls...then all hope for birdkind will truly be lost. Photographed at Santee Lakes, Santee, CA.

American X Black Oystercatcher, one of at least two who have made this site their home for the last couple of years. I can think of at least one well-known county lister who giddily ticked off this bird on their county list as an American Oystercatcher...but of course, that is called "stringing", not Hybrid Theory. Photographed at the Ventura Harbor, Ventura, CA.

Lazuli X Indigo Buntings turn up from time to time. This bird was photographed near Pierre, South Dakota. Photographed by Caity Reiland-Smith.

Some commoner North American hybrids aside from gulls and waterfowl: Anna's X Costa's Hummingbirds, Red-breasted X Red-naped Sapsucker, Black-capped X Carolina Chickadee (Master Sibley gives good info on this brutal intergrade here), Hermit X Townsend's Warbler, Golden-winged X Blue-winged Warbler, Tropical X Northern Parula, Eastern X Spotted Towhee and Bullock's X Baltimore Oriole. That may sound like a lot hybrids, but compared the thousands of feasible combinations of bastard bird hybrids out there, it's really not much.

My advice? Don't go with the Hybrid Theory unless the bird is clearly riddled with intermediate characters. Scrutinize the shit out of the bird. Learn about what hybrids regularly occur, and what they look like. Unless you are intimately familiar with the published literature (I'm talking scientific papers here, not run-of-the-mill field guides) regarding the appearance of hybrids and variation in the parental species, you should know you are probably on uncertain ground when going the hybrid route...but of course, if you have a high ranking on the Global Birder Ranking Scale, people will most likely believe whatever you say.

Of course, the legit unexpected hybrid does happen from time to time. This apparent Philadelphia X Red-eyed Vireo showed up on Southeast Farallon Island, CA. Photo by Matt Brady.

It helps to have excellent documentation, such as in-hand measurements, when reporting difficult birds like this. For those interested, the bird has some diffuse yellow blotches on the breast, nothing like the strong yellow wash of the typical Philadelphia. Photo by Matt Brady.

Skimming

Every bird photographer out there dreams of getting a proper Black Skimmer shot. But not just a Black Skimmer; a skimmer skimming. Preferably with calm water and a mirror-like reflection of the bird. I can now say I have joined the ranks of these people. The company is mixed, to say the least.

Many of the skimmers at the Salton Sea (where all of these pictures were taken) have skimmer bling.

Just before sunset, the skimmers were bathed in a warm, facemelting light.

Crippling views.

This is not a case of When Skimming Goes Wrong. This bird was flying along and would periodically just stop, plop down and dunk its bottom half into the water. Skimmerbath.

The moment of truth: a skimmer's neck snaps back as it's bill makes contact and clamps shut.

What a weird bird.

I wonder what the ancestor of a skimmer (a proto-skimmer) looked like. That would be an awesome fossil to find.

That's it for now. I'm still high on the Great Crested Flycatcher. See you soon.

The Owls Are Not What They Seem...A Disgusting Return To Form...Storkspeed

A Burrowing Owl lets loose a withering hate look, with the aid of a bonus eyelid. No one could feel good about themselves after being the subject of such ancient scorn. Photographed near Finney Lake, CA.

As you know, it is not easy to be the Number 7 birder of the United States. Certain things are expected of me. The Global Birder Ranking System, while shrouded in mystery and intrigue, is also very demanding. For one, I am expected to identify birds accurately over 99% of the time, with some leeway allowed for misidentification (perish the thought!) outside of the ABA Area. Of course, it is my duty to educate the masses on how to properly look at a bird, and to help them improve their impoverished identification skills. I am also expected to bird like a Number 7 should bird...which is a lot, and in the right times and the right places. To fulfill this latter obligation, I find myself preparing, yet again, for a steamy Salton Sea trip this weekend...which is where I will be when you read this.

The vanity of a Burrowing Owl is not to be underestimated. Look at those beautiful owl-whiskers.

I'm glad I was able to get a foot-freezing shot. If you are someone who likes bristly legs (not that there's anything wrong with that)....then owls are for you.

My previous Salton Sea trip was a complete success, so it will be hard to improve on getting a state bird (Neotropic Cormorant) and whole flocks of year birds, which I did last month. Of course, as Number 7...I will endeavor to do so.

August is almost done, and with that, another field season is drawing to a close. Next week is my last week as an inhabitant of the Whale's Vagina...the urge to migrate overwhelms. BB&B will once again hit the road for points north...bay area birders surely dread my disgusting return, but there is nothing they can do to stop me.

Left to right: Northern Shoveler, Snowy Egret, WOOD STORK, Great Egret. Look how hefty the stork is compared to the comparatively bulemic Great Egret, which normally passes as a large bird. Photographed from Schrimpf Road at the south end of the Salton Sea, CA.

What a weird bird. FACT: Wood Storks feed by running their open bills through the water, and clamping down on a prey item as soon as they make contact with it. The reflex of the bill closing on prey is the fastest known reflex of any vertebrate in the world. Can you believe that? Pretty fucking awesome if you ask me.

Black Skimmers also feed by simply by trolling for prey; this is a lot more fun than watching storks do the same thing, but apparently they are not up to stork speed. Photographed at the end of MacDonald Road at the south end of the Salton Sea, CA.

A juvenile Snowy Plover. What excellent posture. Poe Road, Salton Sea, CA.

Shade is in high demand along the edges of the Salton Sea, even by species (such as Osprey) who normally shun it. I once found a Wandering Tattler (a quality bird there) quivering in the shade of a flimsy piece of dead brush out on some salt flats...which makes sense if you are an ocean-loving bird, confronted with 125 degree heat and a far more putrid habitat than what you may be used to. South end of the Salton Sea, CA.