Since we arrived in Massachusetts a couple of days ago, one thing has been abundantly clear: Northeasterners like their beaches! Holy moly, are the beaches crowded and traffic terrible on weekends near the coast. Massachusetts isn't even that populated of a state, and yet people are packed like sardines on every stretch of sand or sand-like substance they can find. Remind me to avoid this in the future...
Another thing we've noticed is that it's that time of the year again. This year's chicks are all grown up and ready to go out on their own, and their parents are ready to relax somewhere further south for the winter. This is great for the birds, but bad for us. We're finally hitting that time of the year where, if we don't get a bird now, we likely aren't going to have another shot. This S-U-C-K-S, sucks!!
For instance, we had Atlantic Puffin on our target list when we came out here, only to discover that the boat trip we were going to take to find said puffin stopped sailing about a week ago because puffin numbers have dropped so low. C-R-A-P, whatever that spells!! But, to catch you up on the past few days...
Friday morning, we took a quick trip to a St. Louis park to chase a reported Yellow-bellied Flycatcher. After wandering around a huge but beautiful park for an hour, we took avail of the Internet and a few local birders. With that help and only 15 minutes before we had to leave for the airport, we managed a brief but satisfying glimpse of the flycatcher and were on our way to Boston.
Saturday morning, we made our way up the East coast from Boston, starting at Plum Island/Parker River National Wildlife Refuge. Between finding three of our targets before lunch and a huge Lobster Roll, we were feeling pretty good. But then, the pitchers started throwing strikes.
We decided to chase one of the last Black-billed Cuckoos reported recently, about 90 minutes' drive inland. Upon reaching the report area, we even randomly ran into the people who had reported it! But even with their help, we could not track it down.
Sunday, we intended to drive up into the White Mountains to chase Bicknell's Thrush. However, both of us were coming down with a cold, so we decided that a 5-mile hike with a 2,000' elevation gain for a slim chance of a glimpse of the bird probably wasn't prudent.
So, we drove back toward the coast, to a preserve where we'd seen Black-billed Cuckoos before. But, nearly an hour of searching didn't turn up even a sniff of a cuckoo,
Then, we proceeded toward Scarborough Marsh, near Portland, ME, due to many reports of Nelson's Sparrow from there. But, following our chain of luck, it turned out that a TRIATHLON was being run that day, and the path where the sparrows had been reported was part of the running route. We gave it the Ol' College Try but there was just too much activity to find anything.
Next, north about 20 miles to a marsh where several Nelson's had been reported THAT MORNING! But, we got there around noon, and with the heat of the day, the sparrows were quiet.
So, in lieu of a birding trip, we tried to schedule a whale watch out of Bar Harbor on Monday to get out into the ocean a ways, but their boat was booked solid. They were open on Tuesday, so we booked that, and then hunted for something to do on Monday.
Turns out, many of the birds we wanted to see were reported from the ferry that sails from Blacks Harbour, New Brunswick, Canada, to Grand Manan Island, about 20 miles off the mainland. Given that we love boats (not!) and adventure (well, ok), we decided to make that our destination.
So, we embarked on a 3-hour drive to a tiny village in the northeast corner of Maine called Lubec. It was near a ferry that would take us across the harbor into mainland Canada in relatively short time, so seemed like a good route. Plus, we had time to visit Quoddy Head State Park, the easternmost park in North America! Lubec is also home to the Easternmost pub, grocery, laundromat, and, it turns out, every business in town is the Easternmost of its kind.
After getting up at 530AM Eastern, we drove across the border (Hi, Canada!) to the ferry, only to find that THE FERRY DIDN'T RUN UNTIL 9AM and we would miss our boat to Manan!!! Whoops! So, we did a U-turn, went back across the border, and drove 60 miles around the bay to enter Canada from the mainland (Hi again, Canada! Long time, no see!), and then drive 30 miles to the ferry. We made it with 5 minutes to spare!
The ferry trip was fantastic, especially since they only charge for the return trip (You're awesome, Canada!). We found three target birds, including our first-ever sighting of Atlantic Puffin, despite what all the haters said!
So, maybe we struck out on the cuckoo, American Woodcock, and a few other birds. But, we're now at 650 for the year, which ain't bad!
Tomorrow, we do our Whale Watch trip to hopefully find a storm-petrel or some other rarity, and then start heading south toward Nelson's Sparrow land again. We return home on Wednesday, at which point we'll re-evaluate our plans in light of current list and migration being well underway.
Man, this Big Year is complicated to plan!
Are Lobster Rolls that special when even McDonalds here offers a Lobster Roll?
Me
Monday, August 31, 2015
Thursday, August 27, 2015
The Layover: St. Louis
¡Bienvenidos!
This post comes at you from St. Louis, MO, as we continue our quest to visit every airport in North America. We are headed to Boston and the Northeast, but decided to stop here for a day to find one particular little bird.
Before I get into this little bird, allow me to set the stage for an analogy.
A few hundred years ago, settlers came here from England (many arrived from other places, but let's focus on the English). They came forth to this land, and they multiplied. As their population grew, it expanded across the continent, overrunning the native population and settling from coast to coast.
A little later, other settlers came here from Sweden. Instead of spreading out, those settlers created relatively small, tight-knit communities in the American Mid-west. Their population grew somewhat, but not nearly as dramatically as the English.
Got it? OK, on to birds.
Think of the House Sparrow as the English. It was introduced in North America in the 1850's, and has obviously spread widely; a city lot without a House Sparrow is like a sandwich without bread.
Who is our avian counterpart to the Swedes? That would be the Eurasian Tree Sparrow! As with Sweden, many Americans haven't heard of it and most know nothing about it. This sparrow was introduced in 1870 in the St. Louis area, and hasn't really spread outside the Midwest. You can find them in St. Louis and southern Illinois, but not too many other places.
This analogy breaks down in a few ways. For instance, Eurasian Tree Sparrows have red heads and black eyes, not blonde and blue. But, go with it! It's the spirit that counts.
We were able to find a few of them fairly easily north of St. Louis, near the confluence of the Missouri and Mississippi Rivers. The whole experience was rather a non-event; the most interesting thing was our route back to town. Google Maps took us through a clean-looking neighborhood of mostly African-American folks with rather nice-looking brick houses, but many of the homes had a sign in their lawn reading, "We've got to stop killing each other!"
Seems like a reasonable request.
Mission accomplished, so now off to the Land of Chowda and Lobsta Rolls, and Pahking Your Cahr in Hahvahd Yahd! That's wicked pissa!
This post comes at you from St. Louis, MO, as we continue our quest to visit every airport in North America. We are headed to Boston and the Northeast, but decided to stop here for a day to find one particular little bird.
Before I get into this little bird, allow me to set the stage for an analogy.
A few hundred years ago, settlers came here from England (many arrived from other places, but let's focus on the English). They came forth to this land, and they multiplied. As their population grew, it expanded across the continent, overrunning the native population and settling from coast to coast.
A little later, other settlers came here from Sweden. Instead of spreading out, those settlers created relatively small, tight-knit communities in the American Mid-west. Their population grew somewhat, but not nearly as dramatically as the English.
Got it? OK, on to birds.
Think of the House Sparrow as the English. It was introduced in North America in the 1850's, and has obviously spread widely; a city lot without a House Sparrow is like a sandwich without bread.
Who is our avian counterpart to the Swedes? That would be the Eurasian Tree Sparrow! As with Sweden, many Americans haven't heard of it and most know nothing about it. This sparrow was introduced in 1870 in the St. Louis area, and hasn't really spread outside the Midwest. You can find them in St. Louis and southern Illinois, but not too many other places.
This analogy breaks down in a few ways. For instance, Eurasian Tree Sparrows have red heads and black eyes, not blonde and blue. But, go with it! It's the spirit that counts.
We were able to find a few of them fairly easily north of St. Louis, near the confluence of the Missouri and Mississippi Rivers. The whole experience was rather a non-event; the most interesting thing was our route back to town. Google Maps took us through a clean-looking neighborhood of mostly African-American folks with rather nice-looking brick houses, but many of the homes had a sign in their lawn reading, "We've got to stop killing each other!"
Seems like a reasonable request.
Mission accomplished, so now off to the Land of Chowda and Lobsta Rolls, and Pahking Your Cahr in Hahvahd Yahd! That's wicked pissa!
From:
Saint Louis, MO, USA
Tuesday, August 25, 2015
Agony and Adventure at 12,000 feet
This weekend found us in the Rocky Mountain state, with one primary goal: to find an elusive White-tailed Ptarmigan.
Our destination? Rocky Mountain National Park, specifically the Alpine Visitor Center. Located about 25 miles west of Estes Park, the visitor center is at nearly 12,000’ elevation and is close to a trail where the Ptarmigan had been reported lately.
The beginning of the trip on Thursday boded poorly. Flight delays on both legs of the journey and a missed connection meant we arrived at the hotel at midnight instead of 6pm. We had to wrap up some projects the next morning so didn't get out of the hotel until noon, and then I nearly broke a toe walking to lunch. Fort Collins City Planners, why would you put a 4” high planter box in the middle of the sidewalk and not paint it something visible? So, both Thursday and Friday were devoid of birds.
Saturday, we arrived at the visitor’s center at 9am when it opened, interviewed rangers about where to look, then were off to trailhead just down the hill.
The trail had a few ups and downs and was only a half-mile long, so it didn't look challenging. Except, there is literally no oxygen at that elevation. A match won’t stay lit, there’s so little oxygen. For reals.
So as we gasped along, we paused frequently to suck down as much air and scenery as we could. Ptarmigan Pterritory was very beautiful, in a way. The mountain slope was blanketed with tundra, a treeless biome consisting of low and thick mats of grass, moss, lichen, and other small plants no more than a few inches tall. We counted at least a dozen varieties of tiny wildflowers, in blues, yellows, and oranges. The plants were interspersed with small granite rocks and outcroppings, and a few marmots watched us curiously from the boulders while we wandered about.
Then, we reached the end of the trail. We were surrounded by about one square mile of steep tundra, in which, the rangers told us, were at least 1 momma ptarmigan and 3 chicks. Shouldn’t be too hard to find them, right?
Well, let me tell you this about that.
The day was sunny, but W-I-N-D-Y. Wind speed at the visitor center gusted up to 25mph, but the trail area was windier and became progressively worse as the day wore on. And this wind was cold; it was a bully of a wind, the kind that slaps you in the face until you cry, then whips the tear off your face before it even reaches your eyes.
And, about ptarmigan: because there is no cover for them to shelter in, they have to hide in plain sight. They can sit motionless for hours, and in the summer, their feathers are camouflaged to look like rocks:
As we stood, sat, wandered, and waited for the little beasts to show themselves, other birders came and went. The sun rose higher in the sky, and the wind accelerated its abuse. Still, no bird.
We returned to our car around noon for lunch, then out to the end again. As we hunted, we found plenty of ptarmigan feathers… maybe they were all eaten? How many feathers would we need to find to recreate a ptarmigan and thus be able to count it?
Back to the car for a break, then when the winds died down at 4pm , we gave the birds another shot. Note that I do not literally mean we attempted to shoot the birds, although I would have considered it at that point. I was already imagining t-shirts with slogans like, “Ptarmigan: it’s what’s for dinner” and “Ptarmigans are Ptasty”
Another 90 minutes, and nothing. So, down the mountain we went, disheveled and dismayed.
The next morning, we tried again, this time arriving at 730a. (early bird, etc, etc)
We were joined by several other birders, and also two prairie falcons swooping about. At first, this was dismaying (the falcons, not the other birders, although all of us became more depressed as the morning wore on). We were concerned they (again, the falcons) would scare the birds into remaining even more motionless. Then an idea struck me: there were 3 chicks, so if the falcon gets one, then that would give away the location and we could see the other two! I know, grim, right?
Around 9am, everybody else had given up, and we wandered back to the Visitor’s center for another consult with the rangers. We needed more details after 9 hours of searching and finding nothing…where were they seen along the trail? What time? Upslope of the trail? Downslope? What if the wind was really blowing? The ranger’s response… “Um…I’ve just seen them all over the place.” OK, thanks?
Now, we came all the way here for a ptarmigan, so we were not leaving without a damn ptarmigan. Back to the trail!
As we marched down the so, so, so familiar path, we ran into a couple we had seen earlier, hiking up from somewhere lower on the hill. (Note to Rangers: Everybody saw the signs instructing people to stay on the trails. In no way did anybody looking for a ptarmigan ever veer from the trail. Certainly not. No matter how this account makes it sound.)
“Well, we hiked all through the lower area and didn't see anything. Do with that what you will.”
They looked and sounded like competent birders, so we decided to trust them and focus on the upper area for our fifth trip out.
I was almost to the end when The Wife came into view, running down the slope as best one can when the slope is covered with ankle-catching plants and toe-stubbing rocks.
“I think I hear something!”
We gently trudged up the steep mountainside, our ears peeled. We hiked left. We hiked right. Then left again. Then, I heard something, too. To my ears, it was like… Squabbling? Arguing? Annoyance?
Scanning the rocky field below us, I saw them! At least three birds, jumping on each other and cackling as they worked through their disagreement.
Can you find the birds in this scene? (click to enlarge if you wish)
Stumped? Here's a closer look:
Victory!
The rest of the weekend consisted of driving around Colorado, chasing reports of Buff-breasted Sandpiper and other rarities. We struck out, but the jubilation of tracking down the ptarmigan made up for it. And, we got upgraded to First Class on the way home. Double Yay!
So, we have about 72 hours at home, and then we're off to our next destinations: St. Louis and then Boston. Frequent flier miles galore!
Our destination? Rocky Mountain National Park, specifically the Alpine Visitor Center. Located about 25 miles west of Estes Park, the visitor center is at nearly 12,000’ elevation and is close to a trail where the Ptarmigan had been reported lately.
The beginning of the trip on Thursday boded poorly. Flight delays on both legs of the journey and a missed connection meant we arrived at the hotel at midnight instead of 6pm. We had to wrap up some projects the next morning so didn't get out of the hotel until noon, and then I nearly broke a toe walking to lunch. Fort Collins City Planners, why would you put a 4” high planter box in the middle of the sidewalk and not paint it something visible? So, both Thursday and Friday were devoid of birds.
Saturday, we arrived at the visitor’s center at 9am when it opened, interviewed rangers about where to look, then were off to trailhead just down the hill.
The trail had a few ups and downs and was only a half-mile long, so it didn't look challenging. Except, there is literally no oxygen at that elevation. A match won’t stay lit, there’s so little oxygen. For reals.
So as we gasped along, we paused frequently to suck down as much air and scenery as we could. Ptarmigan Pterritory was very beautiful, in a way. The mountain slope was blanketed with tundra, a treeless biome consisting of low and thick mats of grass, moss, lichen, and other small plants no more than a few inches tall. We counted at least a dozen varieties of tiny wildflowers, in blues, yellows, and oranges. The plants were interspersed with small granite rocks and outcroppings, and a few marmots watched us curiously from the boulders while we wandered about.
 |
| An example of tundra. Note the lack of shrubs or trees. Oh, and some Bighorn Sheep. |
 |
| A cute, chubby little marmot on the lookout. |
Well, let me tell you this about that.
The day was sunny, but W-I-N-D-Y. Wind speed at the visitor center gusted up to 25mph, but the trail area was windier and became progressively worse as the day wore on. And this wind was cold; it was a bully of a wind, the kind that slaps you in the face until you cry, then whips the tear off your face before it even reaches your eyes.
And, about ptarmigan: because there is no cover for them to shelter in, they have to hide in plain sight. They can sit motionless for hours, and in the summer, their feathers are camouflaged to look like rocks:
 |
| From Flickr user Bryant Olsen, You can see the similarity between the rocks and the ptarmigan. No offense intended, Mr. P |
We returned to our car around noon for lunch, then out to the end again. As we hunted, we found plenty of ptarmigan feathers… maybe they were all eaten? How many feathers would we need to find to recreate a ptarmigan and thus be able to count it?
Back to the car for a break, then when the winds died down at 4pm , we gave the birds another shot. Note that I do not literally mean we attempted to shoot the birds, although I would have considered it at that point. I was already imagining t-shirts with slogans like, “Ptarmigan: it’s what’s for dinner” and “Ptarmigans are Ptasty”
Another 90 minutes, and nothing. So, down the mountain we went, disheveled and dismayed.
The next morning, we tried again, this time arriving at 730a. (early bird, etc, etc)
We were joined by several other birders, and also two prairie falcons swooping about. At first, this was dismaying (the falcons, not the other birders, although all of us became more depressed as the morning wore on). We were concerned they (again, the falcons) would scare the birds into remaining even more motionless. Then an idea struck me: there were 3 chicks, so if the falcon gets one, then that would give away the location and we could see the other two! I know, grim, right?
Around 9am, everybody else had given up, and we wandered back to the Visitor’s center for another consult with the rangers. We needed more details after 9 hours of searching and finding nothing…where were they seen along the trail? What time? Upslope of the trail? Downslope? What if the wind was really blowing? The ranger’s response… “Um…I’ve just seen them all over the place.” OK, thanks?
Now, we came all the way here for a ptarmigan, so we were not leaving without a damn ptarmigan. Back to the trail!
As we marched down the so, so, so familiar path, we ran into a couple we had seen earlier, hiking up from somewhere lower on the hill. (Note to Rangers: Everybody saw the signs instructing people to stay on the trails. In no way did anybody looking for a ptarmigan ever veer from the trail. Certainly not. No matter how this account makes it sound.)
“Well, we hiked all through the lower area and didn't see anything. Do with that what you will.”
They looked and sounded like competent birders, so we decided to trust them and focus on the upper area for our fifth trip out.
I was almost to the end when The Wife came into view, running down the slope as best one can when the slope is covered with ankle-catching plants and toe-stubbing rocks.
“I think I hear something!”
We gently trudged up the steep mountainside, our ears peeled. We hiked left. We hiked right. Then left again. Then, I heard something, too. To my ears, it was like… Squabbling? Arguing? Annoyance?
Scanning the rocky field below us, I saw them! At least three birds, jumping on each other and cackling as they worked through their disagreement.
Can you find the birds in this scene? (click to enlarge if you wish)
Stumped? Here's a closer look:
Victory!
The rest of the weekend consisted of driving around Colorado, chasing reports of Buff-breasted Sandpiper and other rarities. We struck out, but the jubilation of tracking down the ptarmigan made up for it. And, we got upgraded to First Class on the way home. Double Yay!
So, we have about 72 hours at home, and then we're off to our next destinations: St. Louis and then Boston. Frequent flier miles galore!
From:
Estes Park, CO, USA
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