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.

Arizona Part II: Beyond Chuffed or Lifers For Slick

Scott's Orioles are not known for being the most cooperative members of their tribe. But in Ash Canyon, they are jelly junkies, and it's easy to get quality looks.

I had come to Ash Canyon for two reasons: Lucifer Hummingbird, and geri-birding. It was hot, it was mid-afternoon, so what else is there to do but sit on your ass and let the birds come to you? Unfortunately Lucifer didn't show that day, but decent geri-birding was had.

Cooperative Lark Sparrow, with a bit of an overbite.

Acorn Woodpeckers are often described as being "clownish", which is too bad, because no one likes clowns and everyone likes Acorn Woodpeckers.

It's easy to take Acorn Woodpeckers for granted as a westerner. But just because something is easy means we should embrace it. Familiarity does breed contempt, but this is one of the great charismatic upland birds of the west, and they make everything better.

This young male Scott's Oriole is already a jelly addict. What is the world coming to?

Mexican Jays litter the mountains and hills of southeast Arizona. They are one of my favorite kinds of litter. 

After a night in Tucson, I got my shit together and rapidly lurked down to Florida Canyon, my old home from a few years ago. A Plain-capped Starthroat had been reported there recently, and it would be a solid ABA bird for me. The starthroat and residentish Black-capped Gnatcatchers didn't show, but it was a nice morning of Summer Tanagers, Varied Buntings, Gray Hawk (unusual there) and Northern Beardless-Tyrannulets.

Broad-billed Hummingbird is both crippling and common in the area. Florida Canyon, AZ.

Eventually I decided to hike up canyon, to revisit the Rufous-capped Warblers. Florida Canyon is the only place in the country where this species is reliable, and they have been here for several years now. Encountering no one on the trail was nice, because there are shitloads of birders in Arizona, and you are better off not encountering most of them. Eventually I heard a quiet, unusual song across the stream but could not locate it...I was momentarily distracted by a female Summer Tanager when she did me a solid and landed right next to the singing Rufous-capped Warbler. This is all part of being #7, you see.

It quickly skulked off, but I was happy. A few minutes later my avian company was replaced by a haggard-looking dude with a massive camera set up, his arms covered in cuts. He was sweating profusely, had a thick southern accent and kept calling me "Slick", which I'd never heard before outside of movies. He had obviously been trying really hard to see/photograph the Rufous-capped Warbler, and despite being there for hours had failed up to that point in the morning.

"It used to come into tapes," he said, with obvious disappointment in his voice.
"Well yeah. When everyone is using tapes on a bird, it will tape the bird out", I observantly pointed out to him.

I told him where I last had the bird and he stumbled over to the spot, looking forlornly at the slope that the warbler had previously occupied a few minutes earlier. Eventually he came back to me and said, "Hey Slick. I drove 3,000 miles for this, I'm going to play a tape." I responded unenthusiastically and got the fuck out of there.

There are few heartening things left in this world. One of them is watching a Black-throated Sparrow feeding a fledgling. Try it some time. Florida Canyon.

Later in the day, I rolled up to the Kubo Cabins, former home of the most dependable Flame-colored Tanager in the country. He must have passed away, but he was at those cabins for so many years that he must have had a nice, long, facemelting life...I was lucky to see him for many of those years. Good birds are still to be found there though...the guys I was geri-birding with at Ash Canyon the day before told me about an easy Whiskered Screech-Owl that sat in a cavity across the street from the cabins. It only took a couple minutes to find it, and I was a bit chuffed. In fact, before I knew it, I was beyond chuffed...I was fucking stoked.

This was my Arizona nemesis bird. I have birded the area extensively and have heard countless Whiskered Screech-Owls, but I could never actually see one...I don't count heard-only birds on my life list, so listening to them torture me at night was not going to cut it. And at long last, here it was, in broad daylight, right in front of me...sleeping.

This is one of the sleepier life birds I've gotten. Madera Canyon, AZ.

After the screech-owl success, it was time to take on Proctor Road. Proctor Road had the star attraction: a reliable, accessible Buff-collared Nightjar. Already happy with my victory over my nemesis earlier in the day, I would have been happy with just hearing the thing (I had no experience with them, aside from fondling a freshly deceased one in a shoe box in California...seriously).

As I arrived at the appointed spot, I came upon a familiar face.

"Hey Slick!", the familiar face beamed at me.

Are we in Men in Black? Are you Tommy Lee Fucking Jones? Do I look like Will Smith to you???? I wasn't surprised to see Tapey McGee there, but I was kind of bummed. Fortunately, he took off well before the time the bird was expected to begin calling (who knows why). Despite all of this, I'm glad there are still people out there calling people "Slick".

Having previously done field work in the area, I knew that I could get closer to the bird without getting too close...there was no reason to stick to the road, unless I wanted to be annoyed by other birders. So I lurked off into the bushes toward the nightjar's favored hill and waited. Eventually a birder from New York walked in to the shrubbery as well, and while we chatted the bird began calling. Great success! Shrewdly picking up on the fact that I was wallowing in the mesquite because I was trying to avoid birders, he headed back to the road. If only all birders were so adept on picking up social cues.

After he left, the bird began calling in earnest, and I could tell the bird had moved off the hill and was coming closer and closer. I drooled horribly, knowing that I had a chance of actually getting eyes on the thing. But as the suspense mounted, I heard some other birders pull up on the road behind me. They were not good birders. The nightjar was singing loudly, almost incessantly, and from the snippets of conversation I could hear it was obvious that the new birders had no clue they were listening to it (New York birder eventually pointed this out to them). New York birder later told me that they then asked if they could do playback, New York birder said "no", and they responded by saying they had driven too far and they were going to do it anyway. Sound familiar, Slick?

And so they began blasting nightjar song while the bird was still singing, and of course it immediately shut up. Heads were about to roll. But then the truly unexpected happened...the bird flew right by me, at eye level, and started singing again a couple hundred meters away before shutting up again. Holy shit!!!! It wasn't exactly a crippling view, but I quickly rocketed from chuffed to stoked to something like awe. What luck! I had almost no expectations of seeing it, and I ended up being the only person who saw the bird that night.

The playback dudes left, and I walked further down Proctor Road by myself. It was a beautiful, peaceful night. Soon other night birds began calling...Common Poorwills, a Lesser Nighthawk, an Elf owl, a Whiskered Screech-Owl. Eventually the Buff-collared Nightjar returned to the roadside and started calling, while another bird countersang in the distance. Such nightbirds! Two Buff-collared Nightjars (yes, I am positive it wasn't another birder using playback) and a whole suite of others. It was a good night. It was also my birthday...that night I camped in Bog Springs Campground in Madera Canyon and drank an impressive amount of bourbon.

These are Arizona Sisters. They look like California Sisters. But they are no more California Sisters than I am California Sisters. Madera Canyon.

The next day I hiked up Madera Canyon, all the way to the Carrie Nation Mine, where I don't think I've been before. I had some nice year birds...Red-faced Warbler, Cordilleran and Sulphur-bellied Flycatchers...and then it was time to leave. Although I prefer birding southeast Arizona during the monsoons, it was a hell of a trip, and I will be back. If you missed it, here is Arizona Part I.

Crushing songbirds can be difficult, so I recommend crushing other life forms in their stead. From time to time.

Unlike most songbirds, Yellow-eyed Juncos are eminently crushable, which pleases me. They are fearless birds, for reasons that I have only begun to grasp. I also am pleased with how closely they resemble Baird's (of Mexico) and Volcano Juncos (of Costa Rica and Panama), not to mention "red-backed" Dark-eyed Juncos. Madera Canyon.

I watched this junco thrash this lep into little bitty pieces. It was intensely violent and fun to see. Nerd points to anyone who can identify the prey.

Ever since that day, I wake up every morning and am grateful that I am not a medium-sized lepidopteran that dwells in high-elevation springs of the sky islands of southeast Arizona. Junco-bashing must be a rough way to go.

The harmful bellow of a Plumbeous Vireo is truly something to avoid. At least it is uttered more intermittently than Cassin's. Madera Canyon.

For the herpers, here is a Yarrow's Spiny Lizard (I think). Madera Canyon.