Smith Oaks, Hooks Woods, Eubanks Woods Sanctuaries

Smith Oaks was extremely productive for us on multiple days and hella fun to bird, generally better than Boy Scout overall. Smith was consistently somewhere between "moderately birdy" and "guhhhhhh birds everywhere" throughout the week...eBird checklists were best characterized as "corpulent". Here are a few of the hundreds of migrants we met there, starting with this Chestnut-sided Warbler.

As expected, the always becoming CSWA was a fairly common migrant throughout the week at all the migrant traps we visited.

A female Blackburnian Warbler with a trophy-sized worm of inches.

This is the same male Blackburnian that was hanging out next to the egret rookery in the last post. I'm still suffering from heart palpitations from seeing so many of these crippling heart-stoppers that week, which were one of the most common warbler species. So many glowing Blackburnians everywhere were difficult to cope with, physically, emotionally and spiritually.

Another crippling gasper, Golden-winged Warbler was certainly not a common migrant, but we did connect with more than I thought we would. We didn't come across any particularly confiding birds unfortunately, but who is complaining? Not me. A couple of them were singing, which is the first time I've ever heard them.

Though not a lifer, Cerulean Warbler was one of the main target birds of the trip for Yours Truly, #7. We had great success, and pleasantly saw a modest number of them.

Also like Golden-wingeds, they were hard as fuck to photograph/see well. Fitting, I suppose, for such a sought-after gem of a bird.

Female Cerulean, showing off her distinct long undertail coverts and almost stub-like tail.

Hella Wood Thrushes that week; we saw hundreds of them. This is not something I expected or have experienced before. Stoked.

When one encounters This Machine Nate on a trail, only one thing can be said for sure: you are in for a treat.

Nate's treat was met by a mix of intrigue and revulsion.

We also spent a lot of time at Hooks Woods. It's a lot smaller than Boy Scout and Smith, but it's the closest patch of trees to the coast, the habitat is good, and the concentrations of Geri there seem to vary between "low" and "bearable". This was the first Blue-headed Vireo of the trip; we would go on to see a handful spread out over the week.

I should mention that birding the road in front of the sanctuary can also be productive; this is where This Machine lifered Black-billed Cuckoo.

Here it is, your friend and mine, SWAINSON'S WARBLER, THE BROWN WONDER. This one was Dipper Dan's lifer. This was a good spring for these skulkers on the UTC apparently.

A surprise to one, Eastern Wood-Pewees adorned the migrant traps in large numbers. Lord knows how many of them were misidentified by Geri and friends.

Veeries were uncommon but dependable throughout our trip. Hooks Woods, and the lawn directly across the street from the entrance, was spilling over with Catharus the entire week. Thrushes were just littering the ground. We even saw some poor completely black thrush that had clearly just taken a bath in an oil pan someone had left out.

What a fucking bummer.

Where there are mulberries, there are Rose-breasted Grosbeaks. Mulberry trees are magic.

On our last day of birding the coast (April 27), Officer Shaw picked out this Olive-sided Flycatcher up in the canopy at Smith Oaks. Though not a late migrant on the west coast, it is in the eastern half of the country. It would be the only classic "late" migrant we would end up seeing; we did not connect with Alder, Willow or Yellow-bellied Flycatchers, or Mourning Warbler. We somehow dipped on Least Flycatcher as well, which seemed bizarre to me. I don't know if they are just not abundant on the UTC, or if they simply weren't moving through the area that week for whatever reason. We had several days with tons of Acadians...migration is weird.

Wrapping up High Island...Dipper Dan and I birded the High Island Historical Park (walking back to Guirdy Road) during the one very brief "slow" period we encountered....it was predictably slow, but I could see it being good when there are migrants around. We checked out Eubanks Sanctuary (mostly because we kept driving by it) on a birdy day and found it to be rewarding, although the habitat is overgrown and pretty much the same throughout the patch. Here is our eBird checklist; of note were Cerulean, Golden-winged and Canada Warblers (a new bird for the trip at the time). There is a pond in the back of the sanctuary that attracts a lot of birds, it is worth loitering around there for a bit. And amazingly, there were no other birders there! So if there are birds around and you want to take shelter from Geri, it is worth taking a look. We never did make it to the Crawford or Gast sanctuaries.

That wraps up our High Island coverage; in summary, it was as advertised. Absolutely ace birding, hordes of Geri, rampant misidentifications, and worthy of revisiting repeatedly.

Anahuac is up next!

Y2K14: Fall Of The Nemeses

Xantus's Hummingbird was one of my first life birds of 2014. Hopefully we will get another one in California someday, but without the drama and dissolving of friendships that the British Columbia bird caused. Todos Santos, MX. 

Birders...I write you on New Year's Eve, just hours before 2014 is shat into temporal oblivion and 2015 hits us on our collective head like a giant ACME brand anvil. This NYE is guaranteed to be the worst in years...tonight there will no bourbon. No bastards. No birds. I have contracted a nasty strain of sickness from Tennessee a few days ago, and I am forced to lay low. There will be no glory for me tonight, nor revelry nor merriment...there will be only NyQuil.  Forecasts of debauchery have been cast aside, and replaced with forecasts of boredom, mediocrity, and FOMO. That said, tomorrow is a new year list! Hopefully by foregoing any raging tonight I will feel like a human being in the next day or two, and the birding (and compensatory raging) can commence.

Those of you familiar with the Birdosphere know what happens at the end of every year...the dreaded yet inevitable year in review. Since I am too wracked with illness to do any actual birding or do anything else fun, I'm going to push this post out today. Hopefully it will make a good read, and we will see you again soon.


Pinkest Lifers of the Year Y2K14: On my way to Texas last March, I made a small but very important detour in New Mexico to get a couple long-awaited lifer Rosy-finches, Brown-capped (above) and Black. Thank the bird gods this place exists. Sandia Crest Lodge, NM.

Best Birding of the Year Y2K14: Not really a shocker here...the award goes to spring in South Texas. Are the birding spots crowded? Yes. Are you surrounded by Geri? Always. Are you required to elbow rabid photogs in the ribs? Constantly.  Is there an abundance of facemelt? And you know this. The mix of "valley specialties" combined with huge numbers of migrating passerines and waterbirds (which you can often watch arrive off the Gulf, while you are birding) make for high quality birding. Hooded Warbler, South Padre Island, TX.

Most Embarrassing Nemesis Defeated Y2K14: Until this year, Eastern Screech-Owl was the most widespread and abundant U.S. bird that I needed to see. It was embarrassing, I will be the first one to admit it. I had heard them and even seen one (horribly), but had not actually had a look at one that warranted counting. That all changed in Texas this spring. Estero Llano Grande State Park, TX.

Most Nemesis Nemesis Defeated Y2K14: Cerulean Warbler was the bird I really wanted to see in Texas...or anywhere, to be honest. This is another bird that has languished on my heard-only list for many years, and I have been dying to see one for as long as I can remember. I obsessively visited South Padre Island day after bloody day in hopes of tracking one down, and was finally rewarded with a male and a female on the same day in late April. It was a memorable experience...does this ring a bell?: "Don't hurt me", he said in a feeble whimper. "I just want to see Indigo Buntings".

Texas birding was very eventful, even without any fallouts. Thanks to Nate McGowan and Tiffany Kersten for showing me around, getting me on birds, helping me drink, etc.

Crappiest Looks at a Life Bird Y2K14: Golden-cheeked Warbler
Most Crucial Inner Circle Life Bird Y2K14: Black-capped Vireo
Weirdest Life Bird Y2K14: Chuck-will's-widow
Best Heard Only Bird Y2K14: Crimson-collared Grosbeak
State With The Most Annoying Photographers Y2K14: Texas

Most Range-Restricted Nemesis Y2K14: I have spent hella time birding in southeast Arizona. I even spent a whole spring doing fieldwork there. I have heard countless Whiskered Screech-Owls...but could never see one. After years of waiting, I finally put this bird to bed (well, it was already asleep) when I saw one of the adults that would spend its days roosting in a nest cavity in Madera Canyon, across from Kubo. As nice as it was to meet this species, this was not the first life bird "Slick" would muster that day.

Weirdest Vague Runt Y2K14: After returning to the bay area from the southwest, there was some work to be done...someone from the Inner Circle had finally leaked the location of the nesting Common Black-Hawk in Sonoma County. Many Bothans died to bring us this information.  This absurdly rare bird has not only been living here for years, it has actually been nesting...with a Red-shouldered Hawk. I got to see the whole family...the hybrid offspring was truly bizarre, I would love to see it as an adult someday. Photographed at Super Secret Inner Circle Location, Sonoma County, CA. Don't check eBird or anything.

Best CA Bird Y2K14: Rustic Bunting. You all know about this bird. I don't have photos (maybe next year?), I'm just stoked that I actually saw it. The birding gods have truly smiled on me in order to keep this bird in Golden Gate Park for almost two weeks. I left the bay area the day the bird had originally been found...I almost quit birding, but luckily the bird decided to winter here. So I'm still birding.

Worst Dip Y2K14: I guess I'll give this award to San Francisco's Sulphur-bellied Flycatcher, but 100% of the birders who chased it were met only with failure, so I don't feel that bad. However, the Brambling wintering in Arcata is causing significant mental anguish...that bird showed up the day after I was last in Arcata, and it is still taunting me.

Nerdiest Birder Gathering Y2K14: This Machine Nate, Flycatcher Jen, The Laurence and Seagull Steve, all aboard the same pelagic trip. It was an unholy union of bird bloggers, and I still feel the residual shame.

Most Awkward Birding Event Y2K14: In response to mentioning some distant Swainson's Hawks, a man at a Harlingen, TX, birding site told me, "there's something else I'd like to get a closer look at", and then offered to orally pleasure me. He was really persistent about it too, talking about how skilled he was, and eventually threw his hands in the air (seriously) and gave me the "your loss" look when I kept turning him down. So if you're a dude and you're into that sort of thing, go bird Hugh Ramsey Nature Park. If your'e not into that sort of thing, don't make eye contact with anyone who isn't wearing binoculars.

Vague Runt of the Year Y2K14: Salvin's Albatross. Aside from the sheer rarity of this very majestic bird, the incredible amount of luck that went into seeing it is still difficult for me to wrap my mind around. Half Moon Bay, CA.

Hoped-for Lifer of the Year Y2K14: This is a weird category...but so what? Birding is weird. Anyways, the winner of this category is Guadalupe Murrelet. The water was very, very warm off central and northern California this year, which led to very different (and generally less birdy) conditions than the ones we encountered in 2013. That said, the warm water brought me life Craveri's and Guadalupe Murrelets, which is exactly what I asked Santa for when rumors of El Nino abounded last summer. Photographed off Bodega Bay, CA.

Honorable Crush Y2K14: Eurasian Wigeon. Eurasian Wigeons are not particularly rare here, but I have never crushed one so hard before. Photographed in Thousand Oaks, CA.

Strangest Birding Event of Y2K14: The Murrelet Incident. The murrelet continues to have believers, by the way...the Incident may yet still be unfolding.

Most Popular BB&B Post of Y2K14: Swallowgate.

Best New Birding Blog of Y2K14: The Birder's Conundrum.


Comeback Birding Blog of Y2K14: Reservoir Cats.

Honorable Vague Runt Y2K14: LeConte's Sparrow. Why hello LeConte's Sparrow! You are so brightly colored and enthusiastic...you must possess a real Positive Mental Attitude. Thank you for being so brave and confiding, unlike every other member of your species I have ever seen. Abbott's Lagoon, Marin County, CA.

From South Padre Island to The Astral Plane: A Cerulean Warbler Vision Quest

It was April in south Texas. Migration was in full swing...a glance at NEXRAD on any given day would likely show thousands of birds migrating over the area. I was going out to South Padre Island 3-4 times a week, the closest coastal migrant trap. I was checking eBird multiple times a day on days I was unable to get to the coast. I was, in fact, consumed.

One day I was birding the convention center, and was told that the bird I lusted for was hanging out down at the Sheepshead lot. Off I went. For an hour and a half I walked in circles, trying to find it. I even ignored a newly-arrived vagrant Red-headed Woodpecker, so focused I was. But birds come and go from the island all the time, and the area was so small I assumed that if I could not find it, it had already departed. I was wrong.

A quick check of eBird later that night had revealed the truth....someone had seen the bird after I had given up. It had been there the whole time. I had dipped...I was furious. I bashed my head into the wall, and blood poured from my forehead. Reeling and foaming at the mouth, I flipped over a table and howled with rage. My coworkers tried to restrain me, but were of little help. They didn't know...how could they? I could see the fear in their eyes, which only encouraged my disturbing grip-off episode. "Don't judge me you bastards!", I screamed at them, flailing my arms wildly. Eventually my anger dissolved into tears, and I fell into a catatonic depression that lasted through the night.

Cerulean Warbler was the bird I needed to meet. I had never seen one. Having done most of my birding in California, it was not an optimal state to be living in to see this bird. They show up every few years, but they are notoriously difficult to get within the state's borders. It's a major blocker for a lot of birders. Still, it was something that us vagrant-hunters hope for, but my yearnings have gone unrequited. I have had my chances elsewhere...I am no stranger to birding the east. Many years ago I heard one singing high in the treetops at Quabbin Reservoir in Massachusetts, but I could not lay eyes on it. Since then, I have had trouble sleeping, but my dreams are always vivid, and generally disturbing. I even dreamt of seeing a Cerulean Warbler once, which triggered a weeklong bout of insomnia...I had to stay awake, in case I was meant to find the Cerulean. And so the years went by, and I saw many new birds...a Baird's Sparrow here, a Whiskered Auklet there...but not the bird that has haunted me for far too long.

The spring of 2014 was meant to be my time. The Spring of Steve. It would be the first time I had ever spent an entire spring anyplace where Ceruleans can actually be expected. If I was going to meet my target warbler, it would be this year. Along the Texas coast, Ceruleans lie somewhere on the spectrum between rare and uncommon...it's not a bird you expect to see on any given day, but it's something that could show up at any time. And show up they did....but never at the right place, at the right time.

One week and twenty-six stitches later, I did my usual bedtime check of eBird. There it was...another Cerulean Warbler report from South Padre Island. It was a single observer report of a female, and had no documentation. My eyebrows were raised. South Padre Island is saturated with sketchy birders who misidentify things left and right....this was not an observer I was familiar with. I decided to sleep on it, which was an interesting experience in its own right...I had dreams of no other than a female Cerulean Warbler, bouncing around in the trees of the convention center. The dream was startling in its realness. It almost seemed that she was reaching out to me, beckoning me to gaze upon her pleasant yellowy greenness.

After work the next day, there had been no further reports....but what the hell? The birding gods, or possibly the warbler herself, had reached out to me the night before, and who was I to ignore any of them? Why not head to the coast? And I did. Puttering around the convention center did not result in any adrenaline-producing warblers, but the birding wasn't bad. I began to feel secure about an absence of Ceruleans in the area, and I should let it go and just enjoy myself. Eventually, my coworker showed up, who was a casual birder. I briefly had walked away from him to check another patch of trees when he texted me..."female Cerulean over here". I sprinted back to the spot, clotheslining several photographers along the way. They hissed and clawed at my legs viciously, but they were no match for a power birder who was on his way to meet his nemesis. One waved his gigantic 600mm lens at me in some sort of threat display, reminiscent of a fiddler crab, but with no burrow in sight he quickly fell to the ground and curled into the fetal position when I came near. "Don't hurt me", he said in a feeble whimper. "I just want to see Indigo Buntings".

It turns out that the woman who had found the Cerulean the previous evening had refound the bird, despite no one being able to locate it all day. She was decidedly not a sketchy birder. I walked up to where she and my coworker were standing, and they pointed at the tree it was in. It was surely right in front of me. We waited. And waited. Another birder said he saw it from the other side of the tree, but quickly that became suspect. I started to panic. Where was the bird? The worst-case scenario that had flashed through my head only a few minutes before was becoming true...my coworker had somehow effortlessly and nonchalantly seen the bird I had fruitlessly waited almost 20 years for. I started to get weak in the knees and moved off to vomit a strange, viscous, black oil into the shrubbery.

And in a split second, things would never be the same. The female Cerulean Warbler appeared, bouncing around above us for a good 10 minutes, sometimes coming down to eye level. A strange, high wailing sound began to become apparent, and it took more than a moment to realize that it was coming from me. Tears were streaming down my face, and for some reason my head wound had opened up as well. Nearby birders, recognizing me as United States #7, gathered around me in awe, hoping to join the spiritual experience. One woman gently touched my cheek, collecting some tears and blood, and dabbed the scarlet mixture onto her khaki shirt. The Cerulean Warbler began to glow, and for a minute it's green and blue rays elevated me to a place that I had never been before, and may never visit again.

A few minutes later, after the emotions and bodily fluids had subsided somewhat, a cry rang out from around the corner. An adult male Cerulean Warbler had arrived! The bird was not as cooperative as the female had been, but it was only a few minutes before it's crippling effects began to take hold of me. It was much, much more than what I had hoped it would be. How could such a bird, with only a simple palette of blue, black and white, be so facemelting? It made a male Black-throated Blue Warbler look like a goddamn Abert's Towhee in comparison. Fifteen minutes after I had first contact with the male, my body could not handle the observation anymore. With limbs locked and twisted, some birders eventually had to carry me to my car (a serious chore, considering all the wretched, retribution-seeking photographers we had to avoid) , and it was another hour of groaning and drooling until I recovered enough to drive off.

That night, I again dreamt of the female Cerulean. Under cover of darkness, she was surely migrating north over mainland Texas at that very moment. For a brief instant, she had left her earthly flightpath for a detour through the astral plane, where we briefly looked each other in the eye, one last time. Since then, I cannot help but wonder...what will I have to sacrifice, what part of me will I lose, in order to see that next nemesis bird? But I sleep soundly now, for I am not afraid.

I have seen the Cerulean Warbler.