Winter Mexican Tour Y2K16, Days 13-14: "Volcan de Fuego", Laguna La Maria

This Gray Silky-Flycatcher accompanied a mixed flock we blew by early that morning. Alas, we were too low for Dwarf Vireos, and could not loiter with this recent lifer and its Lincoln's Sparrow comrades.

On the morning of Day 13, we ditched shitty Ciudad Guzman for good and headed up the road to "Volcan de Fuego", as Howell calls it...I have not found another resource that calls it that. We barged it in our Minivan de Oro, which was no small feat...the road was burly in a number of places, and we definitely put some dings into the van. I would not recommend taking a minivan or sedan up this road, at least for the higher reaches, unless you have Don Francisco at the helm or you are willing to fuck up your rental. 4x4 is not necessary though, just high clearance. Though the road is shitty it does look like it is kept clear, so despite it being almost washed out in places no fallen trees will block your way until you get way up high.

The birding was good...really, really good. Huge flocks abounded. Taking a wrong turn rewarded us with close-up looks at Slaty Vireos, a group lifer that left me reeling. We never did find a Dwarf, but I'll totally take a Slaty over a Dwarf.  In fact, there were so many birds it was difficult to make much progress as far as elevation gains. Stopping at the turnoff to the microondas was birdy (shocker), with the highlight being calling Long-tailed Wood-Partridges...we never did see them, but that is a hell of heard-only bird.

We ran into a handful of Calliope Hummingbirds while birding higher elevations during this trip. I'm a big proponent of Calliope Hummingbirds, but they were not the hummingbirds we were looking for. Do you know what we did not run into? Bumblebee Hummingbirds, Mexican Hermits, Sparkling-tailed Hummingbirds. Pain, pain, pain.

The volcano slumbers, or so we thought.

The hills and mountains of western Mexico are rife with Tufted Flycatchers. At the appropriate elevation, they always seem to be one of the most abundant and conspicuous birds. They are charming and mellow, and comforting in their orangeness.

Slate-throated Redstarts are also thick at these elevations. These are flashy birds, whipping about and splaying their tails constantly.

When crippling birds are conspicuous, even a mini-crippler such as this, birders are happy.

In the early afternoon we finally reached a zone that was rotten...rotten with the stench of potential lifers. There is some incredible habitat on this road if you can make it far enough. This is where Howell references species like Thick-billed Parrot and flock of 100+ of Aztec Thrush. Guess what we did not see? We did have a Colima Warbler scare, but fortunately the frightful bird was just a Virginia's Warbler. What a relief!

Not especially frightful was this Russet Nightingale-Thrush, which we had been seeing but I did not realize until this day was a life bird...how embarrassing! Russet Nightingale-Thrush is endemic to Mexico and has the unfortunate distinction of having a name similar to Ruddy-capped Nightingale-Thrush, which it does resemble. Anyhow, we had a couple Russet Nightingale-Thrush on this road and in previous days, I wouldn't say it is a tough bird to come by up on the volcanoes.

Shortly after I got my lifer Rufous-capped Brush-Finch (and narrowly avoiding yet another grip off...fuuuuuuuccccckkkkkkk yesssssssssssssssss!!!!!!!!) we turned around and called it quits for the day. On the way back I noticed something strange...an erupting volcano...you don't see that every day. This was not totally unexpected (Bonnie back at Rancho Primavera said it was active), but it was still intense, to put it lightly. I told my nerd crew earlier in the morning that if the volcano wanted us dead, we would certainly die that day.  When this suddenly became a very realistic possbility, the nerds could not handle it, since the most exciting thing they typically experience is watching their list totals increase in eBird. Dipper Dan let out an eerie wail and promptly shat himself (loudly and horrifically), others lay in the road, curled in the fetal position and sobbing loudly. Frank moaned about all the money he wouldn't be able to save for the rest of his life, Stilt tried to revise her entire life up to the very moment, and (White-throated) Flycatcher Jen awkwardly continued to try to be the center of attention while most of the other nerds were busy dying.

The beginning of The End.

This is what The End looks like.

The Grim Reaper is in there, we could see him.

Obviously no one died, and the volcano erupting is a regular occurrence. Here you can see the moon next to the ash cloud, which calms everyone from turnstones to (White-throated) Flycatcher Jen.

Everyone agreed that this was the best birding of the whole trip, despite the number of target birds we missed. I would strongly recommend birding this road more than once if you are in the area; it would be easy to camp next to higher up, and we did not encounter a single vehicle above the ag fields. Our checklist for the day is here.

That night we lurked down to Colima, where I don't quite remember where we stayed for the night (I'm drinking whisky right now, you see). We did not stay at Los Candiles, a favorite birding hotel, as it was too bloody expensi. Oh, just remembered! We stayed at someplace on the zocalo. It was acceptable, and not expensi! There isn't a lot of food around there, but there was a veggie place that FJ was quite chuffed about.

The next day was the single worst day of birding we had on the trip...and it wasn't bad! Just not great. I mean, we got another Slaty Vireo (on the highway in front of El Jacal de San Antonio), and a pretty good day list, but most of us did not lifer that day. We had some good random roadside birding, but the most interesting stop of the morning was Laguna La Maria.

As soon as we entered the park at Laguna La Maria, we were welcomed by an absolutely massive flock of Lilac-crowned Parrots, far more than we saw on the entire trip combined. They were loud and highly visible. After Stilt caught a goose for fondling purposes, we lurked down to the lake to try to pick up some weird birds. Not many weird birds were to be found, though the area was birdy. After a Red-crowned Ant-Tanager departed, an Olivaceous Woodcreeper gave us very good lucks, which was a relief as I had missed all the previous OLWOs that had been seen earlier in the trip.

This Ivory-crowned Woodcreeper was very confiding, which is how I prefer my woodcreepers, abundance be damned.

Could this be a bird that will show up in the Rio Grande Valley someday? I think that is a reasonable question to ask. But the wait could be a bitch, so cross the border and go birding already.

You know what these are...these are nerds. Don't worry, they are not looking at anything interesting...probably a Great Egret and some coots. You can see the nice, lush habitat that is around the lake though.

Black-throated Green Warblers were uncommon in most of the places we birded during the trip, but as you know, they will always come in for good looks, be it in the state of Texas or the state of Colima.

More from Laguna La Maria, Playa del Oro and Rancho Primavera up next!

#MAYNERAYGE

Black-throated Green Warbler is a common bird in many places, and those places are not places I bird commonly, at least not for the last year.  Soon, I will reunite with this bird, though this time it will not be in the company of Roseate Spoonbills and Green Jays...birds like Razorbills and Spruce Grouse will be much, much closer.  Photographed at South Padre Island, TX.

Kelp Gull?  Nazca Booby?  Yuck.  Those are not birds I want to see, especially not in California. Tomorrow I leave for Maine, where I will join other nerds for whiskey and lifers (as opposed wooski and Vague Runts, as some nerds I know will be attempting to drink in) and competitive bird blog coverage.  There will be migrants.  There will be seabirds.  There will be boreal birds.  There will probably be lobster, although I'd much rather be eating crab.  We won't even be looking for vagrants, but if another Little Egret decided to drop into Scarborough Marsh right about now I won't be complaining. There are ten (10) target birds I need as lifers, and a whole host of other shit that I haven't seen in years...American Woodcock, Saltmarsh Sparrow, etc. Stoked.

BB&B will be back in June.  Stay thirsty, my friends.

Your Mom Is Ship Assisted

It was recently brought to my attention that a very well-known birder asked (proclaimed) the following question: "Does anyone really still believe in "natural" trans-oceanic vagrancy?"  Yes...he seemed to be serious, but perhaps he was just making a point. However, birding is rife with poorly-conceived theories backed with little or no evidence, and I think it is best we tackle this idea head on...before it is too late. As the Global Birder Ranking System's #7 U.S. birder, I feel it is my duty to respond to these contentious allegations in the name of the Birding Good, not to mention Good Birding.

This birder was speaking, of course, about ship assisted birds. His point was that there are so many ships at sea at any given time, transiting between countries and continents, that this could be the explanation for how and why all Old World birds show up in the U.S. and Canada. So how could this public birding figure, say something so...how can I put this nicely....profoundly baseless? Devoid of logic? Wrong? It suggests a fundamental lack of understanding of what birds are capable of, and what they do. Keep in mind that he is not suggesting that some trans-oceanic vagrants are ship assisted, he is suggesting that all of them are. To be truthful, I've been wanting to do a ship assisted post for years, but this gaping breach of reasoning is finally making it happen.

Millions of songbirds, like this Eastern Wood-Pewee, travel many air miles over open ocean every year. These flights can be quite protracted, depending on weather conditions...a number of northeastern species are thought to migrate south from the eastern Atlantic seaboard straight to Caribbean islands and South America. When birds can cover vast distances over the ocean, that gives them ability to turn up far off course if something goes "wrong". Photographed at Dry Tortugas National Park, FL.

So, some quick background. There are a lot of ships in the ocean. They travel places. Migrating birds traveling overseas will occasionally land on them to rest. Sometimes they will only land for a few seconds, but some may ride a ship for days, and even longer. These birds are known as "ship assisted". This phenomenon really bothers some birders. They get the notion in their head that any "lost" bird that would have had to cross part of an ocean to get here must have arrived via ship, rather than under its own power. They then blather their bizarre and ridiculous conspiracy theories about ship assisted birds to anyone who will listen. Unless you buy into this (and thus perpetuate the horrible cycle), it's a major bummer to have to listen to or read about.

Let's get into this thing then. Birds land on ships, for sure. Birds have been known to ride to other continents on ships, disembark at their new home, and be located by birders. In some instances, it seems quite obvious what is going on...for example, all of Hawaii's Great-tailed Grackle records are thought to involve ship assisted birds, and I am completely on board (HA! HAHA!) with that theory.

Now lets look at the other side of the conspiracy coin...my apologies if this gets lengthy, but there is no shortage of evidence (not all of which I will even get into....I am only human) to dispute this bizarre claim. Remember, I'm simply dealing with this question: Does anyone really still believe in "natural" trans-oceanic vagrancy?

If a Black-throated Green Warbler leaves Mexico's Yucatan Peninsula for the Louisiana coast but encounters unfavorable weather, it may wind up making landfall hundreds of miles east or west from its intended destination. Weather conditions over the open ocean often dictate where overwater migrants end up, and is a plausible explanation behind the placement and timing of many (certainly not all) vagrant records. Photographed at South Padre Island, TX. 

- Birds can migrate staggering distances. Obviously. Ships/trains/planes are not necessary for birds to accomplish this, for vagrants or otherwise.

- Birds find themselves where we do not expect them to be, whether they are migrating over a forest, a desert, or an ocean. This is basic knowledge...I'm not going to use an example for this. Combine a bird's ability to cover vast distances during migration and the inevitable fact that some of them get misoriented or blown off course due to weather, and you end up with a recipe for all sorts of vagrancy. Again, this is really basic stuff.

- There are hundreds of bird species that cross stretches of ocean as part of annual migrations, often between two continents...and I'm not talking about seabirds. It is absolutely normal. How can one possibly reason that a bird that crosses nothing but land can be a "natural" vagrant (i.e. a Black-throated Blue Warbler in California), but a bird that has to fly over the ocean is automatically ship assisted? I suppose the hundreds of Red-throated Pipits that have showed up in California and Baja California must relish spending their autumn weeks in the excellent bird habitat and feeding grounds that are transiting cargo ships. If this is true, we should be birding offshore container ships, not wasting our time in places like Attu, St. Paul, or Gambell.

Falcated Duck with Cackling Geese. This duck has been wintering in California for a number of years now; it must somehow have all the North Pacific shipping routes memorized in order to come back to the same place year after year...right? Photographed at Colusa National Wildlife Refuge, CA.

- Countless islands were settled by trans-oceanic vagrants, before ships (and human beings) existed. Did the ancestors of the Galapagos finches and Hawaiian honeycreepers ride out there at the bottom of a Polynesian canoe? No. Birds getting "lost" over the ocean has been happening for eons, and there is absolutely no reason why that phenomenon would suddenly disappear across hundreds of species.

- Shorebirds, ducks, and many other species rarely, if ever, land on ships at sea. If you think that all the stints that show up in the U.S. every year only got here by hitching a ride on a container ship, then you have my pity. A vagrant flamingo, banded as a chick on Mexico's Yucatan Peninsula, is currently living on the Texas coast. Can you picture it spending a week on someone's yacht in the Caribbean in order to get there? If you can, I applaud your imagination.

The Common Rosefinch...is this a ruthless, ship-hopping pirate? Or merely a spring overshoot? Photographed on Buldir Island, AK.

- Think of the masses of Siberian/Russian/East Asian species found on Alaskan islands over the last few decades...now imagine that every single one of those birds spent a few days on a ship prior to making landfall. I know its hard, but just try. Are you doing it? No? Well, I can't either. In fact, it is impossible.

- Huge numbers of birds migrate over the ocean. Now we may think that a bird landing on a ship at sea is not a rare or unusual event, but think about it...considering the numbers of birds that overfly ships every day and night...if even half of those birds took a rest stop on a ship every time they had to make a flight over an ocean, ships would likely be completely coated in birds whenever they were anywhere near a flyway. Sure this happens in major fallout events, but in the big picture, only a tiny minority of birds flying over the ocean ever land on ships in the first place. This does not bode well for those enthralled by the notion that ship assists are the explanation for all ocean-jumping vagrants.

- Here in California, close to 100% of the birds that dredge up the ship-assisted conversation involve migratory species that breed/regularly occur in Russia and have previously occurred in Alaska (and other states/provinces) that could reasonably arrive here. This appears to be accomplished via a bad internal compass (which seems to be how many eastern North American species show up here), strong winds in the North Pacific out of the west, or some combination of both. The much-ballyhooed "pattern of occurrence" is readily visible. How come there are seemingly no birds riding into the port of Oakland or San Pedro (allegedly) from anywhere else?

A Little Bunting. Of course, no one can know exactly how this bird wound up where it did (although I guarantee it was interesting), but if you just assume it was a ship assist, you might as well assume the thousands of Aleutian Cackling Geese in the neighboring field were ship assists; they probably came about just as far as the bunting. In fact, you could go ahead and assume it rode on the back of a goose all the way from offshore Alaska, for the classic "goose assist". In this case, the goose assist and ship assist are equally provable...so why not? Photographed in Mckinleyville, CA.

- Ah yes, there is little more that the birder appreciates than a good pattern of occurrence...including sex. But I digress...if ships are just taking birds willy-nilly across oceans, why do so many trans-oceanic vagrants have such predictable patterns? With all the North American records of Fieldfares and Redwings, why are there no records of European Blackbird? European Robin? If ship assisted vagrants are indeed so rampant, I would expect a lot more fun and wacky birds from other continents being seen on our shores, with much murkier and confusing patterns of occurrence.

- The appearance of many vagrant birds in North America, particularly on the west and east coasts, frequently coincides with significant winds and storm systems over the North Pacific and the North Atlantic. Sure some folks are still trying to attribute rare birds to Hurricane Sandy (please stop), but you get my drift. Birds do not enjoy migrating in strong headwinds; in fact, if a bird meets too strong headwinds or other inclement weather over the open ocean, that could lead to their demise. Following tailwinds (or getting caught up in them) to the closest point of land might be a migrant's only chance for survival, even if it takes them to the wrong continent.

- All worries about Palinian logic aside, Russia and its birdlife really are close to North America. For example, the distance between Russia's Chukchi Peninsula and Alaska's Cape Prince of Wales is a whopping 51 miles...a bird traveling west to east, as bad of an idea as that may be for the bird, could do that crossing in 2 hours or less with a tailwind, and be well on their way to migrating down the wrong continent if they did not correct their course. Oh, and 2 hours of flight time is nothing for a medium or long distance migrant, vagrant or otherwise.

At the end of the day, I am fine with the idea that some of North America's Eurasian vagrants may have spent some time on a ship in order to get here. I absolutely accept that, and want to reiterate that here. Are all of them? I think you know what I think...no. No they are not, its just not a tenable theory.

So how can you possibly demonstrate that a particular individual was ship assisted? One can speculate, sure, but speculation is not evidence.  After all, what if the bird only spent 5 seconds aboard a ship? Or 5 minutes? Should that matter? What if it was 25 minutes? How would one know? Aren't these questions annoying? It's time we put them to rest.  For many species (not all), particularly those with a pattern of occurrence, it is not possible to know if a particular bird is ship assisted or not. Discussing the semantics of it will always be fruitless; what some would describe as an atavistic endeavor.  There are highly suspicious/obvious individual birds that are found where the ship assisted argument is certainly relevant, like with the previously-mentioned grackles or the legendary Snowy Sheathbill that managed to find itself in England...but not for every bird that may have seen an ocean at some point.  There is, of course, the whole discussion about whether we should even care about ship assists....most birds utilize human-altered or entirely manmade habitats, after all...but I will let you guys sort that out.

A Breast of Bay...Where is the DICK?...#failurethrush

Many years ago, as a young and stupid birder (not #7), I went out to California's Kern County to check the desert oases for migrants. We ran into some birders who directed us to a singing male Black-throated Blue Warbler. That was pretty sick. Then we were told there was a male Bay-breasted Warbler over at Butterbredt Springs, so we cruised over there. And there it was, hopping around the shore of a pond like a goddamn Song Sparrow. And then someone found a Prairie Warbler, which was easy to relocate. How fucked up is that?

That was my introduction to spring vagrant hunting in California; it was an accidental discovery. No one really understands why we get almost all our spring vagrants at the end of May and beginning of June, but that is when they decide to come through. But that is not the point...the point is that I have not seen a breeding plumage Bay-breasted again until this spring, when a handful could be found on South Padre Island, Texas. Stoked.

Acadian Flycatcher was a bird I had only met briefly, on a nest somewhere in Missouri back in 2009. I was only able to find one this spring, but one is all it takes. It was confiding as fuck, and didn't even bother me with demands of pizza.

It's a pretty distinctive bird, if you ask me, and I am ready to find one in California. We are overdue. Photographed on South Padre Island, TX.

Dickcissel is a fun name. It's a name people can get behind. I think "dickcissel" is a horrible way to describe it's song, but it's a great name. For all those people who are thinking about making shirts or stickers that consist of simply a bird's banding code, I can't fathom why I haven't seen any DICK in production yet. It's the best. Photographed at South Padre Island, TX.

After seeing hundreds this spring, the plumage of an adult male in spring still doesn't make any sense to me. There is nothing like it north of Mexico. Hidalgo County, TX.

I don't think I've posted any Magnolia Warblers this year. Birders would be more aware of their facemelt abilities if they weren't hella common in a lot of places. This fully black-backed bird has reached a crippling peak of spring finery. South Padre Island, TX.

This one has the facemelt turned down a notch, but is ultimately a gratifying bird to be around.

This horrible, haggard thing that bears a faint resemblance to a Magnolia Warbler is not at all gratifying to be near. Sorry. South Padre Island, TX.

Bell's Vireo was one of the "best" self-found birds I had at South Padre Island this year. Unfortunately, when I posted it on eBird, I found out that someone had found it earlier that day. Don't you hate it when that happens? Oh well, it was a nice year bird and the only one reported from the region this spring.

And now we come to The Thrush of Failure. This Hermit Thrush spent a couple weeks at the convention center on South Padre Island. Hundreds of people saw it. It was quite comfortable foraging on a small stretch of lawn, and was not shy. The number of people I watched misidentify it was staggering. Many birders suffered a blow to their Global Birder Ranking System scores when confronted with this very typical member of it's species.

Granted, the other Catharus species are all more common here at this time of year, but this bird was practically begging to be identified correctly. The complete eye ring, extensive spotting, and a red tail all scream Hermit Thrush, and there were often Veery, Swainson's and Gray-cheeked Thrush all present at the same site to provide convenient comparisons. Does this thrush stand as a hopeful monument for the number of new (aka inexperienced) birders out there? Or is it a testament to the dismal future of birding?

Much has been said about female warblers....mostly stuff along the lines of "males are better looking, but females are ok". I don't have much to add to that conversation right now. Obviously, there is no species of warbler with distinct sexual dimorphism where one would actually prefer to observe a female over a male. Here is a female (perhaps first spring) Black-throated Green Warbler. South Padre Island, TX.

A male Black-throated Green Warbler is almost obscenely attractive, in comparison. South Padre Island, TX.

Let's face it...Empids are a bitch. It's not their fault...but it kind of is. Here is an unassuming Least Flycatcher, the most abundant Empidonax that migrates through south Texas (Traill's and Yellow-bellied were also easy to find this spring). South Padre Island, TX.

Here is the same bird, doing something that approaches an Alder Flycatcher imitation. Pardon my grain.

You don't have to pardon my grain for this one. Here is a Common Nighthawk. As you may know, I have beef with animals being called "common", and this one is no exception. Yes, it is the more widespread nighthawk species in the U.S., but you know there is no such thing as "Greater Nighthawk", right? So why does Lesser Nighthawk even exist? Right...Common Nighthawk should be called Greater Nighthawk, although I admit "Bullbat" would be pretty sweet. Willacy County, TX.

There is nothing like a good Caprimulgid crush, is there? I love all the different patterns these duders sport. It seems like they would clash, but the nighthawk pulls it off.

Isn't birding funny? I can remember when I first saw Black-bellied Whistling-Ducks in southeast Arizona, back in the 90s. It was a Really Big Deal for me. They were flighty and more than happy to keep their distance from us. Now in 2014, I crush them at point blank range, and don't raise an eyebrow when I drive by one perched on a roof or a powerline. Familiarity breeds contempt. South Padre Island, TX.

Everyone loves Least Bitterns, and I am no exception. They are relatively common in parts of south Texas, and don't require much effort to find at places like the convention center and birding center on South Padre Island, where this photo was taken.

Steady Birding at South Padre Island and Suffering Through Years of Failure

Worm-eating Warblers absolutely live for dead leaf clusters. I am tempted to say something like "you show me dead leaf clusters and I will show you Worm-eating Warblers" but that's taking it a bit too far. We are getting deep into April but they are still coming through.

I'm starting to fall into a pattern you guys. When I first got here, I would go birding all over the place. This is no longer the case. Now I only really want to go birding at one place; South Padre Island. South Padre is the local migrant trap for birds coming across the gulf, and as I am a big proponent of spring migration, this is the place to go. You have probably figured this out, as every BB&B post for weeks has featured SPI. Hell, yesterday at the convention center I was confronted by three BB&B readers I've never met from Napa/Fairfield (I hope you guys slayed in Corpus), which probably speaks to how predictable I am. The birding is really picking up out there, although nothing truly epic yet.

What can I say? Sure I could go west, up the Rio Grande, and try to hunt down some ABA birds (White-collared seedeater, Red-billed Pigeon, Muscovy Duck), but I've never prided myself on my ABA list and you just never know what you might find on the coast. And since I've never seen Swainson's or Cerulean Warblers, I have no choice but go to the coast.

It is relevant, at this point, to point that out that I would be willing to do horrific, despicable things to get my eyes on a Cerulean Warbler. The bird haunts me. I have heard one many years ago (Quabbin Reservoir, MA), but that's it. I dipped on one at Sheepshead last week, which was subsequently seen the day after. The weekend before, I went up to Corpus Christi and Port Aransas in a pathetic (but otherwise enjoyable) attempt to find this bird. In my signed copy of Dunn and Garrett's Warblers, Jon writes "find a Cerulean for your county"...talk about suffering through years of failure. I have even seen one in a dream. Maybe they are the whole reason I am here...but that is too heavy to think about on a Monday.

I suspect this may be the last Louisiana Waterthrush I will see this spring. Note the blazing supercilium, lightly-marked breast and long bill.

And here are the other desirable field marks; buffy flanks and obviously pink legs. I've found that Northern Waterthrushes are disturbingly variable in appearance, but LOWA are pretty consistent in the field marks they offer.

Having no previous experience birding the Gulf during spring migration, I knew it was going to be a learning experience in terms of how abundant (or rare) different species are. Blue-winged Warbler is pleasantly reliable to find on any given day.

The Blue-winged Warblers here have a special knack for being really easy to see but a total pain in the ass to get acceptable photos of. This is pretty typical. As you can see, some of them wield mighty facemelt, but take their privacy rights very seriously.

Yellow-throated Warbler is another early migrant (and uncommon winter resident) that are tapering off now, unfortunately. Here is a typically fantastic yellow-lored bird, which I'm told is unusual here. However, members of the white-lored group (albilora) can have yellow lores. Don't know why this isn't dominica though. Do you?

This bird is interesting. The forecrown is not solidly black, which points toward being a female or immature. There is a dull yellowish wash in the supraloral area, but when zoomed in (you'll have to trust me) it is confined to the upper half of the otherwise white stripe...I am inclined to think this is a white-lored (albilora) bird with either pollen on its face (many Tennessee Warblers here get this) or a mild yellowish wash (not unusual either), or perhaps a young yellow-lored (dominica) bird, which as I mentioned is unexpected here.

A couple other things are indicative of the bird being albilora...for one, if that is not pollen they often do have yellowish lores (per Dunn and Garrett) and the very top of the bird's chin is actually white (you'll have to trust me again). I also know how horribly dry this all is, but these are the exercises #7 must run through. 

There are many confiding migrants on South Padre on any given day. For example, yesterday I pulled up next to a male Scarlet Tanager that was lying in the middle of a street. I thought it had gotten hit by a car, because I was way too close to it for the bird to be sane. Nope, I was wrong. It had just decided to kill and dismantle a huge insect right there in the median. Anyways, most Black-throated Green Warblers I run into are similarly trusting. 

Do you see? Trust. This is the face of Trust.

I thought fruit was popular with birds in the tropics...well, put some up in a migrant trap around here and see what happens. The orioles, Orchard and Baltimore (above), devour these things with reckless abandon...not to mention Rose-breasted Grosbeaks, Tennessee Warblers, Summer and Scarlet Tanagers, and other good 'uns.

Baltimore Oriole is one of the most abundant migrants right now. About two weeks ago, they would get flagged in eBird. Things change quickly when migration is in full spring.

There is no shortage of horrible-looking young male Orchard Orioles that do their best to trick unwitting birders. Their impression of immature male Hooded Oriole is spot on. In Sibley (original version), a 1st summer male is illustrated (useful) but no identifying features are mentioned whatsoever (humorous).

People are a little more familiar and comfortable with identifying female Orchard Orioles (myself included), despite a similarly strong resemblance to their Hooded counterpart.