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.

BB&B Presents: Sanderling

Today's post is brought to you by BB&B's writer in residence, Cassidy Grattan. His skill of unifying the myriad worlds of the intertidal and littoral zone, both in the written word and in philosophy, has not been matched since the days when Ricketts and Steinbeck roamed the Great Tide Pool. - Felonious Jive

they are stitching the sand together. their beaks the needles, weaving together the endless worms. a great golden rug growing and unraveling is the coastline. bill bottomed out, their eye balls leaving faint, ephemeral dents in the sand. are their eyelids closed at moment of whisper impact? to violently stab with your face, forever.

so we went running across the constellations in the sand, some avifaunal braille the cluster of birds had made.

a group of eight pelicans stiff winged above the dunes, passing us every so often. 'they are tethered to the sun' Sandman says. lips wet with pear juice. Sandman, those pears, youreallyknohowtopickem

so many dead birds. strange fruit these auklets, small burnt eggplant along the wrack. seal skull, wrapped in bloodied parchment. pelican jaw, we stretched the pouch out. Skyguy feeds it an ice plant flower. rolled some logs looking for legless lizards. found none but buglife.

awhile back, a bit further south from here, perched on a jetty, we watched humpacks gulping and breaching not one hundred feet away. grown ass men shrieking. elderly women cooing. children unable to move, enchanted by the monsters. i couldn't stop watching the folds of its throat, flesh obsessed. encrusted with massive barnacles, nudibranchs somewhere in there. the water streaming down through the troughs. thousands of skeleton shrimps on its head, genitals, wounds. its face wrapped in these algae eaters. dead skin eaters. sometimes picking at the whale wounds.

further back, north of here, at the mouth of the pajaro, skimmers and snowman plovers. an enormous whale vertebrate. it made a good seat. my own spine terminating in a massive final lumbar. thought of Ahab and his narwhal stool. poor Ahab. flesh obsessed. perched upon tusks. perched upon teeth. of course he ends up in the mouth of the whale. I escapes by coffin. doomed ark floating upon the sea. before he is fed upon by frigatebirds, I sings the entire tale to the wind, the water, the glowing plankton. Melville hears it from them.

Winter Shorebirds

Long-billed Dowitcher, not a species I usually get to see close up. I'm surprised the bird could tolerate the giddy, astoundingly annoying photographer flailing around in the mud next to me flushing birds while he tried to get down on his belly. Typical. Radio Road, Redwood Shores, CA.

Shorebirds get more attention during warmer times of the year, but in winter here in California we get close to 30 shorebird species that are expected (untouchable compared to any other state), although some are obviously more rare than others. I think it's actually surprising how infrequently we get a rare shorebird in the winter, considering the size of the state and amount of habitat we have (Ruff is the rarest "expected" winter shorebird). A Sharp-tailed Sandpiper that wintered at Bolsa Chica in Orange County years ago is my personal best...I dipped on the damn Greater Sand-Plover.

Which is irrelevant, for the time being. Here's a sample platter of some of California's wintering shorebirds, hopefully you will find them visually delicious. A flock of winter shorebirds may not have as much potential goodness as a big flock of gulls, warblers or sparrows, but they shouldn't be overlooked unless you are a real bottom of the barrel lister.

Marbled Godwits are abundant up and down the coast, although you get lucky to run into a big roosting flock like this. Do you see the one with the white breast and belly? Not a Bar-tailed, in case you were wondering. Radio Road.

Long-billed Curlew is one of my favorite shorebirds...they breed on the prairie, winter on the coast, have crazy proportions while being huge, kill large crustaceans, and have some cool vocals too. What's not to love? Photographed at San Leandro Marina, San Leandro, CA.

Whimbrel is the understated curlew that doesn't get as much attention. We would probably look closer at them if a similar-looking relative (Bristle-thighed Curlew, I'm looking at you) were more prone to vagrancy. When I lived on Midway, I (successfully) had to scan flocks of Bristle-thighed Curlews to find vagrant Whimbrels, heh. Carpinteria, CA

I have countless better pictures of Willets, I just think this is a funny mixed flock. San Leandro Marina.

Black Turnstone is the most abundant "rockpiper" in the state, followed by Surfbird, Ruddy Turnstone, Wandering Tattler and Rock Sandpiper, the latter of which don't care to go south of Humboldt Bay very often. Wandering Tattler can be frustrating to find at times as well. Photographed at Emeryville, CA.

While on a recent gulling trip, I was surprised by this Black Oystercatcher that let me crush it over and over and over again. This was one of the worst pictures I kept, not bad eh? Oystercatchers are a species capable of spiritually enriching any birder. Miller-Knox Regional Shoreline, Richmond, CA.

Sanderling. Although I am affected by these birds for other reasons, my favorite Sanderling field mark is the lack of hallux (hind toe). Pillar Point Harbor, CA.

I think this Dunlin is a big improvement over the last photo of one I posted. I'm looking forward to seeing them in alternate plumage, a superior garb to what they wear in the winter. San Leandro Marina.

The controversial Snowy Plover. I really enjoyed working with them last year, but it's back to seabirds in a few weeks. Photographed at Half Moon Bay, CA.

Mountain Plover. Not a bird of any shore, although they often can be found in the same places as Long-billed Curlews throughout the year. They are most easily found on the Carrizo Plain (where this bird was photographed) and the Salton Sea, although I have seen them on the Oxnard Plain and in Solano County as well.

I like that you can see the webbed feet of this American Avocet, that's not something I notice very often. An early breeder, some birds around here are already getting their summer ruddy colors. Radio Road.

This Black-necked Stilt has its mind on things other than me sitting there attempting to render it two-dimensional, but those subtle glossy highlights on its back are nice. Photographed at Radio Road.

That should provide a good sample of California's winter shorebirds, this certainly isn't a "photo study" (not sure how I feel about those, no offense). Hopefully I'll get some opportunities to shoot some birds in spring color this year, or better yet, find a spring shorebird vagrant! It can be done, but it's not easy...even for Number Seven.

Crucial Avian Linkage, and BB&B Comes to Facebook

It's been wet, gray and gloomy here in northern California lately, but that doesn't deter the mighty Sanderling. Pillar Point Harbor, CA.

I finally did it friends. BB&B readers have been frothing at the mouth for years now, begging for even more BB&B related content. I've tried my best. The Great Ornithologist Felonious Jive has even taken to writing for 10,000 Birds...but it hasn't been enough. So I finally caved and started the BB&B Facebook Page, where I will attempt to do much more than just post links straight here, which is repetitive and disturbingly circular. So, by all means, head on over there and join the ranks.

By the way, I don't think many of you have been to this website. You are really, truly missing out.

Hexed At Tijuana Slough

American Pipit in breeding colors. It was roaming the beach, chasing flies relentlessly around the mounds of kelp and algae.

One of the few places I've birded around here in the past was the mouth of the Tijuana River, when the Belcher's Gull showed up back in the 90's. There aren't any megacripplers like that hanging out there now (and yes, I saw the hell out of that bird), but I do remember it as looking like an amazing place to stare at the birdlife....so not long I ago I found myself retracing the steps of a younger, even nerdier version of Seagull Steve.

The place looks about the same as I remember it. Tijuana Slough National Wildlife Refuge (aka Tijuana River National Estuarine Research Reserve) has lots of tidal channels and saltmarsh, with a very birdy river mouth accessed from TSNWR trails, Border Field State Park or Imperial Beach. Nesting Yellow-crowned Night-Herons nearby are a nice perk as well. Offshore you can see the Coronado Islands, which lie in Mexican waters. They hold Brown Boobies and American Oystercatchers, birds I hold in high regard.

Unfortunately, on the day of my visit it was exceedingly dark and gray, which just makes me want to back there even more. It will happen soon. All photos today are from TSNWR.

Snowy Plover. This, at the moment, is the bird my life revolves around...that is, until the Least Terns start nesting as well.

One of the perks of the San Diego area is its abundance of terns. As you may know, I am a huge proponent of birds with forked tails. Forster's Terns are one of a number of tern species that breed in San Diego County.

Gull-billed Terns abound here, which is not something I remember from years ago. I'm not certain how their population over at the Salton Sea is doing, but they have been increasing in San Diego County. The Californian/West Mexican subspecies, Van Rossem's Gull-billed Tern, was recently petitioned to be listed under the Endangered Species Act, but Fish & Wildlife declined to do it (probably more for ill than good).

Do you see? It's like the Mercedes of terns.

This was the first time I managed to get some deec Long-billed Curlew pictures...the terns and shorebirds along the beach are somewhat acclimated to people, which is what a bird has to do to get by in these parts.

You see this clump of mussels? Whimbrel heaven. Delicious.

While California may be devoid of frigatebirds, at least we have Brown Pelicans to fill our skies.

This was the rarest sighting of the day. It's a birding church group. I have no idea what the priest is doing in this picture, maybe trying to part the slough? Put a hex on me? At any rate, it's a good thing to see.

Savannah Sparrow. When I took this picture I thought it was a Belding's (the locally common but endangered subspecies), but now I don't think it is, it's not dark enough. How embarrassing!

I never get tired of watching Sanderlings' neverending struggle to be as close to the water as possible without actually touching it. The Black-bellied Plover left for drier pastures.

There aren't many crappier looking birds than worn, first-year Western Gulls. They truly look trashy. So trashy, in fact, when they pick up an unappealing clump of mussels (maybe it was the Whimbrel's?), it makes them look better.

Winter Tour Part III: The Olympics!

Gray Jay. THE CUTENESS IS TOO MUCH. Olympic National Park, WA.


After leaving Ocean Shores behind, Stilt and I traipsed (yup, traipsed) up the east side of the Olympic Peninsula to doomy Port Angles, Washington. I ended up staying for about a week, practicing with the drinking team and getting in a few hours of birding every day. We stayed with our friends Cass and Liz, both of whom have been featured in BB&B's terrible interview series, and have somehow created a child together in an attempt to create the ultimate uberbirder. Although the verdict is still out on the young one, I did manage to get my lifer Pine Grosbeaks in her presence, not to mention a vagrant Mountain Bluebird.

Harlequin Ducks were not hard to come by. Ediz Hook, Port Angeles, WA.


Rural Western Washington seems to be a truly strange place...it is not for the faint of heart. Trying to cope with the face-wrecking scenery, crippling birds, horrible weather and the varied and bizarre locals (people, not birds) can be too much to handle all at once. I don't know what would have happened, had I needed to trek all the way out to the Okanagan Valley to find that Ross' Gull....it had disappeared by the time I arrived in Washington, which was sad.....but it also prevented me from reliving the Ivory Gull Incident once again, so it wasn't all bad.

In other news, I updated the Human Birdwatcher Project page, which is handily located above where you are reading this. Go there and catch up on all the edgy and groundbreaking research BB&B has been doing on birders all these years...you might learn something about yourself.

Right....things are happening this week....including a job interview (weird), and some inevitable birdwatching (embarrassing). But don't worry...as long as I am Funemployed, you will get the BB&B fix that you know, love and need. Mahalo.

Harlequin Duck. Have you seen one? If not, you bring great shame and dishonor to your family. Ediz Hook.

Trumpeter Swans take on a frightening and grimly realistic rendition of a fox. Sequim, WA.

A mated pair of birders with altricial young. It should be noted that this is a good place to stand to see Pine Grosbeaks. Olympic National Park, WA.

Common Raven. The snow beneath the bird really helped light it up. Olympic National Park, WA.

Barrow's Goldeneyes. The seaducks in Washington were great...a weird mix of White-winged, Black and Surf Scoters, Long-tailed and Harlequin Ducks, both goldeneyes, Buffleheads and Red-breasted Mergansers. Go there and stare at them intently. Ediz Hook, WA.

Seagull Steve flogs a beach for megas. Sequim WA.

A different look at the same beach. That's Mount Baker looming on the horizon. Sorry for all these non-bird pictures, you don't have to get your feathers all ruffled. Sequim, WA.

Gray Jay is in the running for being BB&B's official bird. Why? In some circles, people still refer to them as WHISKEY JACK. Olympic National Park, WA.

In Washington, even Sanderlings will come to bird feeders. Consequently, minds are boggled. Ediz Hook.

Cline spit in the foreground, Dungeness Spit in the distance. Sequim, WA.