Anauhac National Wildlife Refuge

If you haven't been, one of the great things about doing a trip to the High Island area is all the other superb birding opportunities (that can be as good or better) that are there for the taking within an hour's drive. Anahuac National Wildlife Refuge is a large refuge northwest of High Island that demands attention, and I went a couple different times with This Machine Nate and Dipper Dan. Chances are you've been there or have heard about it, so I won't blast you with too many accolades about it other than saying that I think it might actually be underrated for viewing springtime Neotropical migrants - marsh birds typically get most of the attention there.

This tyrant isn't exactly newsworthy - Eastern Kingbirds are abundant at Anahuac - but I will give EAKIs the attention they deserve, especially when they are down to be crushed.

Migrants can and do appear frequently and randomly along the roadsides, like this Blue Grosbeak. This is a big refuge so a lot of migrants are dropping in throughout the area in spring, but there aren't many conspicuous wooded areas to concentrate warblers, vireos and other tree-hugging species.

Where there are trees, there can be quite a few birds. The area at the main entrance of the refuge (across from the restroom) had a smattering of migrants, although the scattered planted trees there didn't exactly scream "migrant trap"...but in this area, practically any clump of trees can hoover in spring migrants. This obliging Philadelphia Vireo gave great looks.

I've seen a lot of vireos over the years, and have come to the following conclusion: the most obliging vireo species north of Mexico are Philadelphia and Hutton's. Perhaps this behavior, what biologists describe as "not giving a fuck", lends these species species certain advantages, much as it can with Homo sapiens.

Tell your friends.

Some Scarlet Tanagers were also being obliging, giving only one or two fucks.

You know it's happening when stuff is on the ground that shouldn't be on the ground.

I may be #7, but I am not a King Rail expert. That said, I will claim that Anahuac is one of the best places to see them, and there are great numbers of them there (and Clapper Rails, and presumably intergrades too). This little King Rail chick got separated from its fam and was running around on the road and Shoveler Pond boardwalk, calling pitifully for its parents before finally leaping off the boardwalk back into the marsh. I was afraid some rednecks were going to push it all the way to the end of the boardwalk (where it most certainly would be fucked), but they were surprisingly patient with it and waited for it to go on its way. I say this because a few minutes earlier one of them tried to move a big turtle off the road, but then dropped it onto the pavement upside down, kicked it back over, then left it there.

That's not how I would have done it.

Here is an adult King Rail Officer Shaw rustled up for us in a ditch just outside the refuge. Heckof colorful, even when partially obscured. This is a bird I haven't seen in over a decade...not quite a "relifer", but close to it.

This Machine picked out this American Bittern hunting near the Shoveler Pond boardwalk. It's been some years since I had the chance to see one this well. Mellowing.

Other events that transpired on this boardwalk:

*We saw a Glossy Ibis. Twice. That's a good bird. Double good.

*One birder was totally bored and unimpressed by the above bittern because it wasn't a Least Bittern. I've never seen a birder so utterly unenthused by an American Bittern before, didn't know that was a thing.

*Another birder thought this was a Least Bittern!

*Barn Swallows were nesting under the boardwalk, offering point-blank views as they are prone to do. A pair of birders identified them as Purple Martins...unbelievable. They were from Oregon.

*At the parking area, some out of shape Geris asked us if they should even bother walking on the boardwalk. They were not joking, they really wanted to know.

The boardwalk seems to be an excellent place to document birder blunders and to take in all the beauty and grace that mankind has to offer.

The UTC is thick with Least Bitterns. This one was teed up on a shrub next to the road, which I suppose is not a weird thing there (it is in California).

To this west coast birder, Sedge Wren is a really good bird. I've never seen one in California and maybe never will...haven't seen one in years anywhere, in fact. I was surprised to find that not only are they abundant in the UTC, they remain so all the way through April, even though they don't breed in the region.

Once I locked down their song in my head, it didn't take long to realize I was surrounded by Sedge Wrens almost everywhere I went. Bizarre...I did not know they were so abundant there.

Novel Sedge Wren pose. It's hard to believe that a number of species shaped like they shouldn't be flying more than ten feet at a time are actually accomplished migrants, i.e. Sedge Wrens, Yellow Rails. Impressive...most impressive.

My worst misidentification of the trip (I think) was of this fat black water snake...it was big and girthy and sunning itself at the edge of a pond. I thought it was a cottonmouth at first.

But look at that face. That blank, vapid, round-pupiled face. That is not a cottonmouth face.

The first thing some visitors will see at the refuge is a Cliff Swallow impaled on a spike (left bird) under the veranda where folks like to get lunch. Come on refuge, dick move.

This post is running long...more from Anahuac in the next post! And Bolivar Flats!

An Unholy Union

Cliff and Tree Swallows. Part of a flock of thousands of birds that appeared to be already migrating in early July. If I had more patience I would have sat there all morning, checking each and every bird for a Cave Swallow...but I am not that lame. Finney Lake, CA.

It's great to be back in the bay area, where people are free to act human every once in a while. I just watched 2 biologists marry each other, which most people would describe describe as "An unholy union between wannabe eco-terrorist, tree-hugging communists", which sounds like a good time to me. I try to escape from birders, but it gets harder and harder every year.

I thought I'd take a break from terns and shorebirds and show a few birds of the shrub-lurking variety today.
I hope you had a crepuscular weekend.

Bell's Vireo fledgling. Least Bell's Vireos have the unfortunate distinction of being an Endangered Species, as a result of habitat loss/degradation and being a frequent host of Brown-headed Cowbirds. This one already got banded. Old Mission Dam, San Diego CA.

Bell's Vireos follow the strict rules of The Economy of Style, but still manage to be cute.

This Blue Grosbeak fledgling could not have been out of the nest for very long. It's pretty damn ugly if you ask me. Old Mission Dam, San Diego, CA.

Cassin's Kingbird. I don't go birding as often as I should in the late afternoon...the lighting is highly conducive to photography. Lindo Lake, Lakeside, CA.

Costa's Hummingbird. She chose an artistic perch. East San Diego County, CA.

Say's Phoebe. I think this picture kind of sums up the scenery around Jacumba, CA, where San Diego birders go for some migrants and desert goodness and the whole California birding community must go if they don't have Harris' Hawk on their state list yet.

It's dry. It's hot. It's August. Bird song is not what it was a couple of months ago. Even resident birds like this Bell's Sage Sparrow have shut up. Migration looms. East San Diego County, CA.

Lesser Goldfinch. Have you ever thought about what it would be like to only handle, break down, orient and eat food with your face? A strange and disturbing concept. Mission Trails Regional Park, San Diego, CA.

Diaspora Done

Costa's Hummingbirds make everything better. Fort Rosecrans National Cemetary, San Diego, CA.

As you know, migration is winding down, and its no longer easy to head out and get a bunch of year birds whenever you go birding. Here in SoCal its a great time of year for vagrants, but that too will soon pass. The Birder's Summer is about to set in.

As I do most springs, I've been working feverishly and have been unable to get to many destinations that get a lot of colorful migrants...once again, places like High Island, the Dry Tortugas and Magee Marsh will have to wait, and my life list remains without a Cerulean Warbler. There's always next year I guess.

Some California birders loathe March, June and July in general, although July can be decent for shorebirds and seabirds. I'm not sure how I'll cope this year. I suspect beer will help.

Western Wood-Pewees are still moving through California in late May, but it's more of a dribble than a stream. Fort Rosecrans.


Bostick has had a successful trip to Maine, and has a significant lead on me in our half-assed big year competition. That bastard. You know it's really hard to win a big year competition when part of your big year strategy is deliberately avoiding going way out of your way just for year birds. Sigh.

Right. Well here's some birds to look at, a mix of local summer residents and some of the more fleeting spring migrants. Time to buckle down for summer.

Hooded Oriole. Common in San Diego. Still great to look at. Fort Rosecrans.

This is an extremely familiar bird to a lot of you reading this, but it is not a bird to scoff at in California. This teenaged male Baltimore Oriole was one of the rarer birds I saw this month. Fort Rosecrans National Cemetary.

Behold the massive intellect of the Baltimore at work. It's prying open that Eucalyptus with its bill. Why?

To obtain a giant, extremely flat bug of course. When in doubt, pry.

Beginning birdwatchers who bitch about their impotence at sparrow identification have never laid eyes on a Black-chinned Sparrow, who are attired somewhere in between the exotic realms of Facemelt and the simple but chic Economy of Style. Kitchen Creek Road.

The first time I ever heard a Field Sparrow I was floored...they sound exactly like these guys.

Another black-faced bird with a chestnut back...but with the gray swapped for something more extravagant. Blue Grosbeak. Tijuana River Valley, CA.

Olive-sided Flycatcher. It was foraging for three beers. Stonewall Mine, Cuyamaca Rancho State Park.

I never realized how wide their bills are...surely an adaptation for efficiently consuming three beers. Stonewall Mine.

Looking at this makes me sleepy. White-winged Dove. Agua Caliente County Park, CA.

Calliope Hummingbirds were easy to see this year at Point Loma...maybe there is a god. Fort Rosecrans.

Another rare bird, but not something that fits in very well on a checklist. This is an Audubon's X Myrtle Yellow-rumped Warbler, full of hybrid vigor. Old Mission Dam, San Diego, CA.

What Have I Done?

Olive-sided Flycatchers win universal praise and admiration from all of the continent's birders. A high-elevation alcoholic, I have always considered their beer-craving cry to be synonomous with thin air and the smell of Ponderosa and Jeffrey Pines. Stonewall Mine, Cuyamaca Rancho State Park, CA.

Indeed...what have I done? It seems that I have locked myself into a terrible big year competition with someone who I feel is best referred to as a Kenny Bostick-type character. What's worse is that we plan on birding a lot of the same areas this year, and he will be making an east coast trip soon...which puts me at a severe disadvantage. While I toil in a tern colony, he will be face-to-face with Atlantic Puffins, Razorbills, and lord-knows what kind of warblers that may make their way to Matinicus Rock.

Win or lose, come January 1....things may never be the same. The stakes have never been higher, and ever since we made The Agreement, I have found myself locked in a constant state of anxiety.

Of course, neither of us plans to travel extensively just for the sole and embarrassing purpose of a Big Year, but it is another thing to motivate us to get out. I'm not really a competitive person, but this seems like fun...my friend "Bostick" is better funded than I for this endeavor, but he is also notoriously cheap. And so, we bird on a level playing field.

Today is my last day off until the 19th, when I will hop on a boat, snort some Bonine and stare at seabirds all day. So far I have decided to regain some of my humanity by sleeping in and cleaning the cabin....so until then my eyeballs will be glued to Snowy Plovers and Least Terns.

Here's a few recent year birds.

Hermit Warblers are plentiful in San Diego County this spring. This comes as a great relief, since they are typically harder to find than their more abundant Townsend's and Black-throated Gray cousins. Like a number of other warblers, Hermits are terribly named...I could get behind something like "Golden-faced Pine Warbler." Any suggestions? Stonewall Mine.

Least Terns are the center of my life now. They are laying eggs like gangbusters, which means a lot of extra work. Bring it on, terns. Tijuana Slough National Wildlife Refuge, CA.

Calliope Hummingbird is another universally adored bird. The smallest hummingbird in the states, it is much sought-after throughout its range by legions of nerds. Yes, this is the same tree that the Prothonotary Warbler was in...it is indeed a magic tree. Fort Rosecrans National Cemetary, San Diego, California.

When "Bostick" visited last weekend, he was exposed to the shock and awe that is San Diego birding, where the birds just don't make sense. He did not understand singing Chipping Sparrows and Dark-eyed Juncos singing right on the coast, not to mention the Yellow-crowned Night-Herons, Little Blue Herons, Gull-billed Terns and multitudes of Red Knots. I don't blame him. Fort Rosecrans National Cemetary.

This will not go down in history as the best Blue Grosbeak photo ever taken, but I think it's funny. This sort of photo is typically reserved for raptors. Tijuana River Valley, CA.