We're not in California any more

Yo!

Salutations in your general direction! This communiqué is being crafted from Emporia, KS, about 100 miles southwest of Kansas City, and home of the great Emporia State University and their Lady Hornets, winners of the 2010 Division II Women's Basketball Championship, or so signs around town proclaim.

Why are we in Emporia? I'll get to that in a minute.

The theme of this week has been, "Get up freaking early". Wednesday, we got up early for a chase of the Copper Bird:

This is actually a Lewis's Woodpecker, but I think old Meriwether was a little full of himself.

Their chest is actually pink, but when you shine early morning rays of very red light on them, they change to copper!

We easily found them over in Vacaville thanks to reports submitted to eBird. In fact, we literally drove up to the tree in which they were sitting (the Brambling should take a few tips on proper bird etiquette from them).

Thursday, we rose at 4AM for our flight to Kansas City. We're in Kansas for the next few days to find birds that winter down here, but spend their summers in remote parts of the far north (like, Artic Tundra/Polar Bear/Midnight Sun north). While Kansas in the winter might feel like the Arctic to those of us from California, it's presumably a little easier to get to than Nome, AK.

Thanks again to eBird, after leaving the airport, we headed straight to a remote field where they had been reported recently. After only a few minutes of looking...success! Lapland Longspurs!

Looking slightly confused, probably about why she's in a remote, barren field in Kansas

Girl on the left, boy on the right

Is it cheating to use eBird? Well, I will admit it makes things a whole lot easier!

TTYL,
Me

Are You Experienced? Part 1

Dear friends,

The sickly-sweet stench of failure was in the air this weekend, as the Brambling evaded our scrutiny (probably by being hundreds of miles away), as did several other birds we were chasing. But, at least we weren’t the only ones stinking up the joint; at least three others missed it, too, including birders from San Diego and the South Bay. Misery does love company.

As intrepid adventurers, however, we were undeterred. We glided over to the Humboldt Bay Jetty for a gander at sea birds.

At this point, you might be wondering what “going birding” is about. Allow me to describe to you what our morning was like, in the first of a presumably many-parted series, “Are You Experienced?”:

Ocean Birding Experienced
While the sun beat down like police batons at a protest march, we trudged half a mile through the powdery beach sand toward the distant jetty. The sand filled our boots, providing free pedicures.

Most of the wood beams were missing from the jetty, evidence of abuse by countless storms. The remaining concrete platforms were rutted and algae-covered, leaving them as slick as the snot on a sick kid’s nose.

For the next half mile, we hopped and slipped and trode lightly down the jetty, mostly avoiding puddles and the effects of gravity, out past the seals and surfers.

Our reward at the end of the jetty was standing for 90 minutes, squinting through our scope, searching for white or black dots on the ocean. Of course, both the dots and the ocean are moving up and down, left and right, at different speeds. So, a dot might come into view, then a half-second later be obscured by a wave. And, of course, while doing this, the scope is misting over, and the foghorn overhead is bleating every minute.

Doesn’t birding sound fun?!?! Are you experienced? Do you want to be experienced?

For our efforts, we picked up 3 new birds, the stern Rock Sandpiper, the dour Black-Legged Kittiwake, and the evasive Marbled Murrelet. The MM was an especially nice find, as their numbers are declining due to habitat loss; not realizing the folly of their ways, they evolved to nest in old-growth trees, something researchers didn't confirm until the ‘70s.

Sunday ended near Fort Bragg, camping in our trailer at MacKerricher State Park. Then, a quick run home the next day, in time to knock out some chores this afternoon (you probably saw me pruning the grapes).

If the above sounds slightly insane, just wait… our plans for the next few weeks include trips to Kansas, Texas, and Minnesota, as well as an ocean trip out of Bodega Bay and run down to the bizarre Salton Sea. But, more on all that later.

Intrepidly,
Me

To Live and Die in Arcata

Cato & Co,

Settle in for a tale that will ruffle your feathers! Our goal for the day was finding the locally rare Brambling that's been reported in Arcata, CA for the past several weeks.

After driving 5 hours to get we were dismayed to realize that nobody had reported seeing the bird for a week (yay, planning!). So, after 2 fruitless hours of searching the residential neighborhood where it had been reported consistently until we decided to chase it, we gave up.

Instead, we drove to nearby Arcata Marsh, a nearby hotspot with ponds, marsh, bay, and the requisite sewage treatment plant that birds love so much.

We spied this guy lurking along the marsh edges. Can you find him?

Here's a closer view:

Our first-of-year American Bittern gave us a brief glimpse before diving back into the reeds. You may not have heard yet, but I have been lobbying to have the Bittern formally renamed to "Marsh Zebra", or "American Marsh Zebra" (for the patriots out there). Much more appropriate, don't you think?

After lunch, though, is when things got exciting.

We arrived on the bay's edge, and were amazed by a humongous flock of shorebirds:

Video! A little shaky because hand-held but cool: 

Closer view:

How is it that people can't drive on a straight road with painted lines without colliding, yet these birds can fly in a tight group without whacking each other?

They would sit on the bay edge for several minutes at a time, then get spooked and all take off in a fling of shorebirds, then land again.

After several minutes of watching their act repeat, we saw a small, dark shape swoop through the sky -- a Peregrine Falcon! Yo, birdies, this is not a drill!

The birds noticed the falcon, and took off even more wildly than before. The falcon circled above the flock, dove straight down through the middle of the flock in the blink of an eye, and pulled up before it hit the water. We thought it might have missed, but we were wrong... it swooped down and landed in the shallow water, then took off again with something in its talons. Not a great picture, but you can kind of see two tiny legs trailing behind him:

He landed in a distant tree for a well-earned meal. Meanwhile, the entire shorebird flock departed for another part of the bay, and we didn't see them again the rest of the afternoon. They must have put up a virtual "There Be Dragons" sign.

Tomorrow, we're taking another run at the Brambling, then down to Fort Bragg for some more coastal birding. Keep an eye to the sky, and may you never meet the falcon's talon.

Grimly,
Me

A Fishy Sunday Brunch

Friends,

We have safely returned from our coastal sortie, which the authorities have declared, "A fair success". This is a reasonable analysis, presumably because I am the Authority, and I have declared it as such.

The highlight of our last day was a feeding "frenzy" -- thousands of birds gathered on Santa Cruz bay, methodically decimating an unseen school of fish:

Unfortunately, the birds refused to respond to my calls to move closer together, so you only get a small part of the flock.

Technically, it was more of a "mellow frenzy", in that the birds were constantly feedly but not going berzerk. I attribute this to the not insignificant quantities of pot smoke wafting through the city that morning. Seriously, Santa Cruz, we need to blaze at 8AM on a Sunday?

Birds were diving under the water to catch fish, and then coming to the surface to enjoy their snack. However, some bird's eyes were a little bigger than their bellies, like this Horned Grebe...

Dude, are you really going to eat that? It's as big as your head.

I see you're going to try...

Fail! We watched him play with this fish, but never saw him successfully swallow it. Pick a smaller fish next time!

The most vigorous action of the day was turned in by the Pelican division.

Gliding, cool as the other side of the pillow

We watched their precision maneuvering, as they drifted over the bay watching for the right moment, and then diving headlong into the ocean:

This was best described by the gentleman next to me on the pier: "Wow! Look at them dive! Splash! And another one! Splash! Whoa! There goes that one! Boom!"

Well said, my friend, well said.

Go Seattle Ospreys!
Me

Rhinoceroses in the Mist

Cato, et al,

Subtly slipping from the house on Friday morning, we sprinted to Monterey with a detour to Don Edwards NWR near Santa Clara to pick up some ocean birds and a few common things we were missing. 

Yesterday was fairly successful, adding 18 new birds for the year. Our highlight was a few Snowy Plover, a small, rare shorebird that runs around the beach and likes to hide in footprints. I didn't get a picture, but this will give you an idea:

Snowy Plover by Len Blumin, from Flickr

It's somewhat rare, as the Pacific population is currently listed as Threatened under the Endangered Species Act, so they're a fun find. And, this photo doesn't do its cuteness justice... imagine a large puff of cotton running around a beach on little stick legs, then running some more, then running some more, then nestling down into a shallow and dozing off.

This morning, we left the hotel early to watch the sea. It wasn't going anywhere, but we wanted to get there early to avoid crowds and maximize bird watching time.

It was misty from wind blowing sea spray onto us, and we end up being somewhat sticky with salt spray (so much for washing the car). But after multiple hours of driving to a spot, getting into the brisk wind, wiping the spray off the lenses, and striking out yet again, we finally found one of our targets: the adorable Rhinoceros Auklet!  Again, I didn't get photo, but here are a couple from Wikipedia:

Thanks again, Wikipedia! This is not the last time I'll be sipping from your font of content.

Later in the day, we used reports from the InterWebs to locate a Swamp Sparrow in a small city park in Seaside, CA, just north of Monterey. Cato, you would have liked him, as he skulked through swampy reeds, popping out for few milliseconds now and again to say Hi. Again, no photos, but this is the gist:

One Swamp Sparrow, courtesy of Wikipedia.

All totaled, 11 new birds for the day, so we're up to 159 for the year.

Now, it's shower/dinner/sleep, in approximately that order. Home tomorrow after some birding, so we'll see you then.

Adios,
Me

Swan, swan, hummingbird

Lovely Cora, Cato, and Greg,

We have successfully concluded our campaign into the nearly-frozen north, having calmly stormed the borders of two states to plant the flag of birdwatching freedom, while raising the seeds of conservation awareness. Oregon and Washington are, I daresay, better states for us having been there.

And yet...Holy frozen tundra, Batman!

Our final destination was Steigerwald Lake National Wildlife Refuge, near Camas, WA. The word, "Steigerwald" is apparently German for, "an icy cold place with howling winds," and it lived up to its heritage proudly.

The objective was a recently seen Trumpeter Swan, a fairly hard-to-find bird in California. It was joined by several Tundra Swans and a nearby Anna's Hummingbird, which we found sitting forlornly on a bare branch, wondering why her DNA hadn't given her the instinct to fly south for the winter.

Now, here is the best picture I was able to secure of these swans:

Notice the fine details of the swan's plumage

These particular swans are apparently tired of paparazzi, as they refused to come over for autographs or candids, despite repeated, politely worded requests on our behalf, such as, "Dammit bird, get the hell over here, we're freezing!"

We were reduced to squinting through our scope as it shook in the afternoon gale, trying to decide if the one of the swans was somewhat bigger than the others, and whether it had a bit of yellow on its face or not. We eventually concluded that there was indeed swan matching the description of a Trumpeter, and then we concluded we were crazy and ran for the car.

Although being the largest native North American waterfowl, Trumpeter swans are hard to find because they nearly went extinct due to over-hunting, habitat destruction, and toxins including pesticides and lead shot. Trumps were declared "4th rarest bird in North America" in the 40s, with fewer than 100 individuals known (the rarest bird at the time was apparently Bette Davis or Rita Hayworth, depending on who you ask).

That said, you can hardly blame the hunters; as I read in the 1901 classic, "American Duck Shooting" by G. B. Grinnell, "The young birds are very good eating", although you should stay away from the older ones as they are "tough and hardly edible".

With years of protection and management efforts, the populations have rebounded to an estimated 35,000 individuals, so maybe we're not far away from being able to have Roast Cygnet on the Thanksgiving Day menu?

Aloha,
Me

The few, the proud

To the dear folks at home,

You probably noticed that you didn't notice me much the past few days. Unfortunately, while minding my own business earlier this week, I was sucker-punched by a nasty flu that laid me out on the couch for some otherwise perfectly fine days. However, resilient as ever, I have overcome, perservered, and risen from the couch to resume normal activities -- praise the Emergen-C!

This missive is coming to you from Tillamook, OR, as we snuck out early Satuday morning to embark upon our first long-distance trip of the year. The goal of this trip was this fellow:

Standing at attention, the majestic Tundra Bean-Goose observes the slovenly Canada Geese vainly organizing their feathers

Remember last weekend's rare duck, the one that took a left turn at the Bering Sea and ended up in California instead of Asia? Well, this Tundra Bean-Goose made a similar mistake, and ended up in a field outside of Tillamook in November, when he decided, hey, this place is pretty chill, I could hang for a while and now what do you know good grief it's already January my how the time flies.

Aside from his general regalness, he's pretty cool because he's only the second bird of his kind ever recorded in the lower 48 states. He's unusual enough that he has his own guest book at the wildlife refuge where he's lazing about, which hundreds of people from as far away as Massachusetts have signed. Greg, I'm sure you're jealous... Otherwise, he seemed very goosey, doing goosey things just like all the other gooses in the field.

Otherwise, Oregon is just like I remember it in winter: gray, drab, misty, drizzly:

Little-known fact: There is no color in Oregon in winter. 

Off to dinner, hope you're doing well and ready for us to return Monday!

Toodle-ooo,
Me

Sparrow: Harbinger of Death

Dear Cora,

You've always been a smart one, so riddle me this: why would dozens of otherwise (apparently) sane people drive 90 minutes or longer, then hike over 4 miles, half of it through soft beach sand, then stand for hours in cold wind just to see a peek of sparrow? If you guessed, "for the exercise," then you would be wrong.

The sparrow in question is a Le Conte's Sparrow. This one, in fact:

Yes, I know there are branches blocking the view. Do you think I don't know that, and it doesn't irritate the heck out of me?

And this is what they look like when they try to escape rapidly from 16 prying eyes:

Disappeared faster than a mobile home in a tornado.

So, why all the fuss? Because it turns out that there have only been a few dozen of these guys ever recorded in California. And, even in their typical ranges, they are extremely difficult to see or study since they spend most of their time hiding in thick grass. Cornell understatedly describes it as having "low detectibility" (I describe it as "f'ing annoying", but then again, I'm not a scientist).

To get an idea of how camouflage works, try to find the bird in this picture:

If you can't see it, zoom in to the very middle:

Not exactly the Kim Kardashian of birds, is it?

This guy was found during a Christmas Bird Count, so it turns out that wandering around in the bushes on a cold, windy, rainy day is good...for Science!

After this, jubilant but exhausted, we drove into San Francisco to find the Rustic Bunting that had been reported for a few weeks. Now, a Rustic Bunting is extremely rare in the US, rare enough that it isn't even listed in Cornell's list of "Birds of North America". So, we had planned to make 3 different visits to the location he'd been seen in Golden Gate Park.

Fortunately, finding him was like shooting fish in a barrel... after walking to the place he had been reported, we found him in 5 minutes. In fact, the semi-mythical "Parking Space" was much harder to find than the bird. Based on this and the Falcated Duck experience, I think we have discovered an important negative correlation: the less likely the bird is to be in our area, the easier it is to see!

In case you happen to get down to Golden Gate Park soon, here's what you should look for:

"What you lookin' at, Willis?"

Now, get back to whatever you were doing,
Me

p.s. The title refers to a putative European myth. Really.

I'll see your eight maids milking, and raise you seven swans swimming

Greg!

I thought you'd especially appreciate our Adventure Du Jour, which involved a tour of the American Canyon Wetlands. You know the park -- it's the former landfill-turned-park on the west side of American Canyon, bordering the Napa River.

We brought you a picture of your friends:

Not the greatest picture, except that it shows almost the whole family of these guys:

As you probably know, these Mute Swans are fairly unusual out here on the West coast. All the Mute Swans in the country originally busted out of oppression in zoos or private collections, and they started establishing breeding populations in the 1800s (truthy fact -- groups of swans are called "communes"). Since the 1970s, their population has started to grow quickly; these birds in American Canyon started as a pair a few years ago, and now the family is 8 large.

While they look innocuous, drifting about on the lakes and bays, they're actually very territorial and aggressive--they will kick the ass of your garden variety Mallard--and so are displacing native waterfowl as they expand. So, while they're uncommon today, could they be as common as geese in the not-too-distant future? Should we let nature take its course, or should we intervene and control their growth? More importantly, does Roast Swan taste good?

Another thing we noticed is that several ducks in Colusa and here have started flirting and showing off. We didn't get video, but found this one online that shows what we saw:

We had a number of guy ducks performing the same kinds of dance moves, although the girls they were dancing around seemed to be feigning disinterest. I'm sure you can relate to the reception the guys received.

Hope you're well,
Me

Goose, goose, duck!

Hey, Gang,

Where were you guys this morning? When we left at 5-freaking-it's-so-dark-and-cold-why-are-we-doing-this-30 in the AM, you were not to be found. Actually, that was smart.

Our goal today was Colusa National Wildlife Refuge, about two hours north-ish of us. Our target was the narcissistic Falcated Duck:

See him posing in the sunshine, with his glowy green head? Show-off.

This duck is rarely found in North America, being primarily a resident of eastern Asia. However, one particular duck has found its way thousands of miles from Asia, to the exact same pond in California, for three of the past four winters.

How does he do this? Nobody knows, although it could involve anything from the Earth's magnetic field to following the stars or key landmarks. Why does he do this? Nobody knows that either. My personal suspicision is that he likes the attention (see here and here).

Now, you may say that ascribing the human condition of narcissism to an organism that we don't understand much about would be ignorant or rude at best.

However, look at the evidence: he's got gorgeous colors and flowing feathers, he comes back to the same place to adoring crowds year after year, and we watched him spend most of his morning preening to make himself even more beautiful.

Case closed.

Until next time, take care and don't get your feathers ruffled,
Me

And so it begins

Dear Cato, Greg, Cora, and the rest of the gang,

Hope you're doing well. Today, as you have reminded me on multiple occasions, was the first day of the rest of my life. This is undoubtedly sage advice, were I to pause for reflection.

It was also the first day of our "Biggish" year, This is the year we try to see as many bird species as we can...not as many as are possible, but as many as we have time and resources to find.

To kick off this year, we participated in the Audubon Christmas Bird Count for Angwin, CA. Angwin started as a resort, and is a now a small village nestled in the hills northeast of St Helena. It's surrounded by vineyards, ranches, and pockets of native landscape. Nearly 150 intrepid birders braved the cold morning and early start on New Years Day to survey the avian landscape.

Our hardy bunch located 75 species of birds over 9 hours of exploring a number of private land areas in the Pope Valley. Besides meeting some very cool ranchers who let us wander around their property, we also found Burrowing Owl, Bald Eagle, Hooded Merganser, and many more. We also partook of the celebration dinner, where Ava provided some amazing hand-made tamales and guacamole.

Tomorrow, we go in search of an exotic duck. Wish us luck!

Love and kisses,
Me

p.s. Yes, I'll take more/some pics next time!