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Christmas Bird Count

Published on January 24, 2011 in Uncategorized. 0 Comments Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , .

New Year’s day dawned bright and cold – a gift wrapped in sunshine, decorated with snow-clad mountains in the distance. This was the morning of Audubon’s Christmas Bird Count. What better way to spend the first day of the year than birding for the cause of citizen science? The stress of determining which bird would be the first bird of the year passed quickly, as there was no avoiding seeing Glaucous-winged Gulls wheeling over the urban streets at pre-dawn as we made our way to Discovery Park to participate in the CBC.

Upon our arrival at the Environmental Learning Center, we were assigned to the beach route while other Discovery Park teams would cover the forests, meadows, ponds, thickets, and one intrepid team would survey the neighborhood surrounding the park. After all, someone needed to count European Starlings and English Sparrows. The Christmas Bird Count is the great equalizer; every bird counts, no matter what the species.

Quickly, we loaded up into the van and headed to the beach. At first it was difficult to focus on the birds as the sun sparkled off the flat, calm waters of Puget Sound while, in the distance, fresh snow on the Olympic peaks provided a stunning backdrop to the entire scene. This veteran team felt blessed to experience such a sunny count, as tales were shared of years gone by with torrential downpours, winds unceasingly ripping at all-weather gear, binoculars and scopes useless from the deluge. But soon we got to work, as a Red-throated Loon surfaced just off shore, grabbing our attention immediately. Scans of the water revealed several more loons on the Sound. Slowly we headed south along the beach needing to put the sun at our back in order to see anything. “Mole people” of Seattle have a tremendous amount of adjusting to do in order to see well during bright days.

The calm waters of Puget Sound were good for visibility, but due to the lack of wind most of the birds were far off shore instead of pushed into the protection of Discovery’s bluffs. But scopes are great friends in these situations, and we soon picked up Scoters, Scaups, Rhino Auklets, and a plethora of Double-crested Cormorants. Closer inspection revealed one Brandt’s Cormorant and a Pelagic Cormorant as well. The fast flight of a Harlequin Duck revealed yet another species. Slowly we made our way back north toward the light station at West Point. There, a single Common Murre waited to be counted.

The bird count paused momentarily as we all enjoyed the antics of a family of River Otters frolicking together, far out in the Sound. Heads of Harbor Seals and the outline of California Sea Lions swimming by gave us more mammal delights.

The South Beach count completed, we made our way around to the North Beach. The sun only penetrated one third of the way down the beach. The low winter sun would not reach here till much later in the day and then only briefly. We stopped at the demarkation line of sun and bitterly cold shade to do our last comfortable counting. Peering through the gull flock loafing on the beach near the wetlands – California, Mew, and Ring-billed gulls dominated the scene but close inspection produced a Thayers and one Herring Gull. We plunged into the shade and approached the North Beach wetlands normally filled with Bufflehead, Gadwall, Northern Shovelers, and an occasional Coot. But not today – the low temperatures of the last few days had left the wetlands frozen solid. As we counted each Song Sparrow picking seeds off the surface of the ice a cracking sound from the edge of the ice riveted the team. Who was diligently breaking the ice on the other side? Our otter family of course! No time to stop and enjoy their activities – the morning was going fast and we still needed to get to the end of North Beach.

The rest of the walk was unremarkable and cold; a few Ruby-crowned Kinglets fussed as we went by and finally one Robin appeared. On our return walk, the pace picked up considerably as we attempted to get blood flowing back through our frozen veins. As we sped along a movement on the rocky levy caught my eye. Scrambling out over the ice clad rocks, teetering on the edge, we were rewarded with sight of five Surfbirds flitting about the levy.

After a quick lunch, it was back to the beach; not for stunning scenery this time but for the drudgery of counting all of the gulls inside the King County Wastewater Treatment Plant. A difficult task but with its own rewards. The air sparkled with Yellow-rumped Warblers flitting and whitting from shrub to tree and back again. An Audubon’s here, a Myrtle there. The sunlight caught a Varied Thrush perched on a wax myrtle. So brilliant and colorful in the afternoon light, at first glance I was sure it must be a Bullock’s Oriole or some tropical rarity. The count, with a total of 75 species for Discovery Park, ended soon after this flame shot bird appeared – a fitting ending to the gift of a sunny Christmas Bird Count.

Falcons to Voles

Published on January 3, 2011 in Uncategorized. 0 Comments Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , .

Peregrine Falcon! The gentle gray dawn has revealed our first bird of the day. A majestic adult female perched on a cottonwood at the Nisqually Wildlife Refuge. The Ramblin’ Rose tour had stopped for a brief break on our way south to the Ridgefield Wildlife Refuge, only to be drawn into the wonders of Nisqually. After admiring the falcon surveying the wetlands, we were surprised and delighted to discover an American Bittern just feet away from the overlook. We marveled as it slowly made its way through the cattails, pausing to “do the reed”, and disappeared right before our eyes. The lovely browns and golds of its feathers filled the viewfinder of the scope. Reluctantly, we pulled ourselves away from the splendor of the Wood Ducks, the Pied-billed Grebes diving below, the Marsh Wrens fussing, and a myriad of other delightful species. Walking slowly back to the van, we were startled by yet another Peregrine screaming at the first as they cut the gray sky in an all-out aerial battle for territory.

Many miles passed on our way south as we tried and failed to count the plethora of Red-tailed Hawks perched on poles along the freeway. Our arrival at the northern unit of Ridgefield was greeted by the raucous corvid chattering of Stellar’s Jays and Western Scrub-jays. The majestic Garry Oaks provided cover for these bright and bold birds. Barely had we made our way to the top of the pedestrian bridge when our collective breath was taken away by a glowing white light in the distance. A large flock of Tundra Swans were punctuated by the regal brilliance of a Great Egret standing guard. The purity of the white scene beckoned us forward only to be stopped in our tracks once again as we were engulfed with a feeding flock. Carefully we searched the band of Bushtits looking for the gold in the females eyes. Picking through the chips, pssts, and ticks we discovered Fox Sparrows, Golden-crowned Sparrows, White-crowned Sparrows, and the constant talking of the Song Sparrows. Spotted Towhees mewed and Ruby-crowned Kinglets mocked the wrens with their fussing. Eventually we made it down to the bottom of the hill, lured there by the cries of Bald Eagles in the distance. The pair of eagles preened and posed together on a bare tree against the skyline. Our forward momentum eventually ceased upon the realization that our presence was frightening hundreds of waterfowl. The teal, mallards, pintails and others are very nervous during hunting season and they were attempting to allude the danger we humans symbolized by flying away. The distant booming of guns reminded us that their flight away from birders may be putting them in harm’s way. So we respectfully turned back.

Not that it was a sacrifice on our part – the main portion of our trip still awaited us at the southern portion of the refuge. Safely ensconced in our van, we began a slow tour of the refuge; using the vehicle as a blind, no birds flushed in our presence. We gazed over wetlands filled with Northern Shovelers, Northern Pintail, dainty Green-winged Teal, and graceful Ring-necked Ducks. Close surveillance through the binoculars revealed Long-billed Dowitchers and a previously hidden Wilson’s Snipe. The road was flanked by two very wet raptors, an American Kestrel to the east and a rather rumpled Red-tailed Hawk to the west. As they waited patiently for their next meal, we were reminded that it was lunchtime. We paused to enjoy a Northwest picnic complete with drizzle and the company of a mixed feeding flock. The Oregon ash trees surrounding our repast were filled with Brown Creepers, Golden and Ruby-crowned Kinglets, Black-capped Chickadees, and – best of all – the very rare White-breasted Nuthatch. Relatively common in eastern Washington this delightful nuthatch’s western range only exists in this refuge.

Throughout the morning and during the lunch I continued to hear Sandhill Cranes crooning in the distance – yet we had seen none. Beginning to doubt what my ear was telling me, I was more than delighted to discover a family group of cranes just around the bend from our lunch stop. They stood head and shoulders and legs above the nearby diminutive Dusky Geese. These tiny burgundy-breasted geese were the reason the refuge had been created. This sanctuary provided a winter respite for their diminishing numbers. The beauty of these statuesque cranes and dainty geese were in sharp contrast to the frighteningly “ugly” nutria swimming about in the deeper waters. These invasive rodents escaped from the fur trade and have proliferated with abandon. Fortunately while watching a family of these pinched-faced “muskrats on steroids,” we were delighted to spot yet another Bittern! So difficult to detect, and yet now we were gazing at our second one of the day.

As difficult as it was, we needed to tear ourselves away from these wonderful wetlands and head back to Seattle. Fondly gazing at hundreds of Tundra Swans, their distinctive yellow spot glowing in the gray, we slowly headed into the final turns. But wait! In the grasslands, very close to the road, undeterred by our presence was a Great Blue Heron in full hunting mode. It slowly and stealthily leaned forward. A silent jab into the grasses and an instant later a vole was dangling from its beak. EEEEEeeeeeeh! cried the vole just before it disappeared down the heron’s throat. Blahhh… nature is not always pretty. A bit shaken by the “eating alive” scenario, we nervously looked about for a bit of beauty for our last visual of the day. The plethora of voles in these grasslands produced just what we needed. A coyote, healthy and vibrant, pounced nearby and a male Northern Harrier – a gray ghost in the mist – coursed low over the field. Holding tightly to these images and many other memories of the day; we turned north toward Seattle.

Tropical Sharing

Published on December 2, 2010 in Uncategorized. 0 Comments Tags: , , , , , , , , .

It was with much trepidation and excitement that I picked up Guido Berguido, of Advantage Tours Panama, early in the morning to take him birding in Discovery Park. Excitement and pleasure to be able to share the park that I love with a fellow birder. Trepidation of showing a birdwatcher from the tropics the best of the winter Pacific Northwest. How would our paltry number of brown birds compare to the brilliant diversity and rainbow of colors available in his own country?
The day dawned bright, cold, and clear as the sun made a rare November appearance. Not a moment after we stepped out of the car, a Pileated Woodpecker swooped over our heads. A very good sign indeed. Strapping on binocular, we slowly made our way along the trail toward the old alder grove in the south end of the park. Guido had expressed a desire to see a Varied Thrush and the hunt was on. The thrush’s monotone whistle echoed through the forests, but they were nowhere to be seen. As we waited for them to make an appearance, a Sharp-shinned Hawk flew through the bare branches and alighted next to ANOTHER Pileated Woodpecker. As I was feebly trying to explain that sightings of these large woodpeckers are very rare, the hawk began harassing and chasing the Pileated around the tree trunks. The small male was dwarfed by the magnificent black and white woodpecker, but did not hesitate to chase and harangue the annoyed bird. Once again, the whistle of the thrush called us back to our goal.

As we sought visual contact with this iconic Northwest species, we were distracted yet again by two Brown Creepers dancing on the trunks of nearby Bigleaf Maples. Their high, thin calls added to the morning chorus. They paused, posed, and jigged about on the old bark reminding Guido of birds of home. Moments of enjoyment were interrupted yet again with the invitation from the Varied Thrush – come see us, we’re hidden over here!

Walking along the edge of the old forests, a flash of movement caught my eye – Guido! Here you go! A stunning male Varied Thrush jumped up to an eye level branch, frozen in a pool of bright sun. His deep orange and black shone brilliantly in the thin sunshine. A moment later he was joined by a female posing with her muted shades of rich color. After long looks and muttered joy, Guido turned and with a huge smile gave me a high five. This was the satisfaction of a six-year search coming to an end.

Relieved and energized, we continued on our exploration of the park, enjoying the white flashes of a flock of Dark-eyed Juncos, the ticking of a Fox Sparrow, and the scolding of a Bewick’s Wren. The cat call of a Spotted Towhee brought us to a halt. As we watched, the male worked his way to the top of a bramble. Turning this way and that to show off his rufous, black-and-white plumage in the brilliant light. WOW! Guido was stunned by the shimmering orange/red of the towhee’s eye. Nice to know there is a little bit of color in our dark northwest.

Guido continued to heap praise upon the showing of birds as we crested the hill overlooking the meadow. The brisk wind easily cut through his tropical clothing, but his mind was not on the cold – rather it was on the magnificent Bald Eagle soaring overhead. An adult hanging gracefully in the wind over the bluff. Soon the eagle was joined by a Red-tailed Hawk laying motionless in the air. Full lift from the wind held the raptors aloft as long as we needed to drink in every detail.

Finally I surrendered to the cold and led Guido to the northern forest in the shelter of the trees. Our arrival was greeted by the “mouse of the forest,” the Pacific Wren. Again, its skulking attitude reminded Guido of tough birds to see in Panama. Soon we were surrounded by a large mixed feeding flock. Tiny feathered bodies flitted about the trees giving us a variety of views of the warm rufous of the Chestnut-backed Chickadee, the stunning crowns of the Golden-crowned Kinglets, a red flash from the Ruby-crowned Kinglets, and the joy of listening to the incessant dee, dee, dee of the Black-capped Chickadees. We only stopped craning our necks long enough to look at yet a THIRD Pileated Woodpecker hammering away at a nearby snag.

The morning was wearing down as we strolled through the gold of the fallen maple leaves. We remembered with joy the pink of the Anna’s Hummingbird’s gorget, the orange of the Spotted Towhees eye, and the excitement of seeing floating raptors, hammering woodpeckers and best of all – the stunning Varied Thrush. Trepidation had been replaced with gratitude for the wealth the Northwest has to offer, even for birders from the tropics.

The Healing Power of Birds

Published on November 11, 2010 in Uncategorized. 0 Comments Tags: , , , , , , .

Arggh… the agony and misery I am swamped with. I am in-between surgical procedures removing skin cancer from my face. I must wait patiently while the lab determines whether the surgeon has excavated it all. Wallowing in self-pity and a new-found vanity that is screaming for sympathy, I fear my face will be scarred for life! But a sudden movement outside the sunlit windows of the waiting room pulls me out of my self-inflicted dark space. A Cooper’s Hawk! An adult Cooper’s ripping through the open air, scattering pigeons in its wake. Suddenly my mind is filled with questions – is she a resident?, is she migrating through?, did she catch a pigeon on the other side of the hospital?, is she hungry and tired or filled with energy from a recent meal? While I ponder these questions I forget myself and the misery of moments before – until the nurse appears, and pronounces my cancer cleared. Once back in surgery for the closure of the wound, the blackness and pity begin again.

The following day, while moping about the house, I remember my small lesson from the day before. With that in mind, I take my wounded ego, aching face, and bad attitude out onto the deck. Overlooking the backyard, I sit quietly and watch. The Dark-eyed Juncos are the first to appear, flitting and flashing their white outer-tail feathers at one another. They busily feed on fallen seed amongst the late-blooming sunflowers and barren raspberry bushes. The Black-capped Chickadees announce their arrival in a full-throated CHICK A DEE DEE DEE! They carefully select a single black oil sunflower seed (how do they know which is best?) and retreat to a nearby perch to pound the seed open for the protein inside. Then its off to the suet feeder for one delicate bite of suet. And then, of course, who can resist the temptation of washing it all down with a drink of hummingbird syrup. Fully satiated they dee, dee, dee at one another till its time to begin the feeding routine again: seed, suet, drink of syrup.

KATCHEE KATCHEE KATCHEE!!! Oh no – my morose attitude had plagued the memory! I had forgotten to put out peanuts for the Stellar’s Jays. Fully scolded and completely reprimanded, I quickly placed peanuts along the deck rail for the three amigos shouting their complaints. I suppress a laugh and a smile (the pain is excruciating) as the jays land on the deck and carefully weigh each and every peanut. Locating the best and heaviest they fly away to secrete the treasure in some very happy neighbor’s planters.

Soon the garden is filled with flashing orange light from the wings of the Northern Flickers. Spooky birds, flickers will fly at the least provocation, this reminds me to sit very still as they make their painstaking way to the suet feeder. I timed one male who took two minutes and forty five seconds to arrive upside down on the suet cage. While I was focusing on his arduous journey, the garden filled with the pshiting, popping sound of dozens of Bushtits. These little warm brown ping pong balls with tails were bobbing, popping, and flitting about the shrubbery, feeding on a myriad of insects, spiders, and egg sacs. Eventually, one-at-a-time, they lined up on the barren branch of an ocean spray. Eighteen brown feather bumps in perfect order, waiting in line for the flicker to vacate the suet. Oooooh, don’t smile – it HURTS! But they as so adorable!

PEEK! PEEK! Whoa, can it really be? Yes, a female Downy Woodpecker has graced our garden. They are very rare in this urban environment and each time we have a Downy it feels like a gift. She shifts her black-and-white body down the bare sycamore trunk until the suet was clear for her turn.

By late afternoon, when the immature Cooper’s Hawk screamed back into the yard in full hunting mode, I was beyond myself – moving past my vanity and unfounded misery. Birding had allowed me to overcome the pain and self-inflicted ego-stomping and  see something other than my tiny world. The birds will continue their life and death dance of foraging and fleeing from predators and I will always continue to bird.

Misery to Magic

Published on October 25, 2010 in Uncategorized. 0 Comments Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , .

Oh no! It’s a miserable wet rainy morning, and Ramblin’ Rose is off to southwest Washington for another birding adventure. It’s September, a time in the Northwest for guaranteed crisp, clear, blue days. But this year, the fall has been temperamental with record rainfalls. The weather was so horrendous, two clients had even declined to get out of bed. But the rest of us took a deep breath, loaded up, and headed south. The rains only increased; hydroplaning and peering hopelessly through the dark,  I white-knuckled the van down the highway.

Our first stop for coffee was shocking, as the darkness had lightened to a dim gray and the torrential downpour had slowed to a fine mist. Our spirits were quickly lifted with caffeine and daybreak. Entering Grayland, we were greeted by the sight of a Common Loon FLYING above the tree tops paralleling the road. We cheered for it to lift its heavy body above the trees, wires, and road as it struggled on its southern migration.

We arrived at K street, and a quick scan produced a Whimbrel, a Common Tern, several species of gulls, and oddly enough a Turkey Vulture on the beach feasting on a young gull – the victim of some unknown crime. The wind and rain were still blowing in our faces, so we continued along to Tokeland. The sight of a flock of Western Scrubjays pulled us to the side of the road. Highly unusual to see such a species in this area. Upon our arrival at the marina in Tokeland the winds had calmed and within 50 feet of our scopes and binocs was an enormous group of Marbled Godwits, their blushing rufuous plumage, glowing under the pale gray sky. We intensely scanned the group and revealed a lone Bar-tailed Godwit a few feet away from a singular Willet. The rarity of the Bar-tail encouraged everyone and the enjoyment level began to rise. We meandered about the dock, picking up a few more species till the call of the tide forced us to move back north.

Midway Beach was our next destination, and as we ventured along the small lane I rolled down the windows to enjoy the sun breaking through the leaden sky. A fortunate choice, as a cacophony of sound rolled into the van. Halting in the middle of the rarely-traveled lane, we piled out of the van. Every tree, branch, shrub, and inch of ground was covered with an immense mixed feeding flock. Flashes of color and sound filled the morning – Red-breasted Nuthatches giggled, Fox Sparrows ticked, and Pacific Wrens burst forth with liquid song. Townsend’s Warblers brightened the willows, Chestnut-backed Chickadees and Golden-crowned Kinglets were the sopranos of the choir. There was life at every level celebrating the departure of the rains. We enjoyed the repast till again the call of a high tide pushed us to move.

Arriving at Midway Beach, we cautiously approached two Teal dabbling in the pools of water behind the dunes. Unwilling to bump the feeding birds, I encouraged the group to slow and stop. A moment passed till we realized that in addition to the two Green-winged Teals, there were approximately two THOUSAND ducks feeding in the shallow waters a few yards south of these tiny dabblers. Talk about not seeing the forest for the trees! Northern Pintail and American Wigeon composed the bulk of the group. A lone Baird’s Sandpiper graced the landscape in front of the murmuring flock. Two Northern Harriers pulled our attention from the waterfowl and reminded us again of the incoming tide. As we were preparing to depart a flock of White-fronted Geese saluted us from on high.

Off to Westport to relax and enjoy lunch. Perched above Gray’s Harbor, our food was overshadowed by the amazing birds surrounding us. Brown Pelicans traced calligraphy against the sky, now warm and bright with sunshine. We followed their graceful flights as they rose in unison over imaginary waves. All three species of cormorant put on a show of diving, hunting, flying, and silently perching nearby. The beauty of Heerman’s Gulls was not lost on anyone. Large, dramatic Western Gulls coursed the sky above the rounded puppy dog faces of Harbor Seals peering above the waves. Polishing off the last brownie we tore ourselves away from the spectacle to head to Bottle Beach.

This new state park is usually a delight for birders, and today was no exception. As we strolled along the boardwalk, Virginia Rail, Common Yellowthroats, and Marsh Wrens called from the wetlands. Several species of sparrows sounded the alert as we neared the beach. Once on the beach we were astonished and pleased by the large rafts of waterfowl littering the shallow bay. Northern Shoveler, Black, White-winged and Surf Scoter, Gadwall, Mallard, Scaup and yes, even more Northern Pintail and American Wigeon. It did not seem possible that this many birds could find this sanctuary, but they had and so had we. Reluctantly, we tore ourselves away from the wondrous flotilla as the trip back to Seattle was long distance and the afternoon was quickly waning. Our slow pace back to the van was rewarded with large numbers of Purple Finch, a stunning Western Scrub-jay, American Goldfinch, and a gaggle of female Red-winged Blackbirds. As we paused to watch the wealth of the wetlands, the sky – which had been so warm and blue throughout our birding adventure -  quickly darkened once again and descended upon us. The returning rains reminded us of how the day began. We were promised pre-dawn misery, but the day had delivered magic, and now it was time to return home.

It’s a Ruff Life!

Published on September 20, 2010 in Uncategorized. 0 Comments Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , .

Some say birders are a bit mad, but we know the trials we face are worth it in the end. Scott and I had a rare day off together and had chosen to spend it in pursuit of the elusive Ruff. This bird is rare and unusual in Washington state, and both Scott and I desperately needed it for our life list. We have gotten to the point in our birding careers that new life birds are extremely few and far between. And a life bird together in Washington State!? Now that would be a day well spent…

So off we went, before the crack of dawn, driving for three and a half hours through pouring rain and brutal holiday traffic. After arriving at Ocean Shores, we made our way through a maze of confusing streets and finally to a slim dirt access at the Game Range. We had timed our trip so we would arrive an hour or so before high tide. Our hope was that the tide would push the shorebirds into this protected salt marsh within scoping range. We parked in the tiny gravel lot, where we encountered another birding couple. Their grim looks told us immediately that they had not had much luck down the barely discernible trail leading to the marsh.

Noting that they looked exhausted and beaten, we pressed for an update. They reported that the wind was brutal and they had not located the Ruff – or much else for that matter. Slightly discouraged but unwilling to let defeat meet us before the challenge, we carried on. Donning raingear, rubber boots, hats and gloves, we slipped into the trail past 8-foot manzanita and out to the tidal spartina marsh. Once we left the cover of the coastal vegetation the wind hit us like a wall. Bending to meet it, desperately balancing the scopes as we picked our way through the random driftwood, we arrived at the edge of a very promising looking area. We set up our scopes and quickly figured out another use for a trusty tripod. I clung to it, preventing a rogue gust of wind from pushing me backward into the mud.

Scoping left and right over the wide open area, my mind screamed with one panicked thought – “Shorebirds! They’re all shorebirds!” But slowly anxiety decreased, my mind focused, and species began to take shape. A Stilt Sandpiper appeared in the deeper water close to the two Long-billed Dowitchers. Scan to the right – hundreds of Western and Least Sandpipers flew, twisted, and turned as one before landing behind the shelter of tiny clumps of marsh grass. In the open water and in the meandering streams Red-neck Phalaropes spun and whirled about, delicately fluttering into the wind. On the open mud flats Semi-palmated Plovers sprinted and stopped, to sprint again. Scoping further to the right in the flats beyond the stream, Killdeer kept company with four, no – FIVE (!) Pectoral Sandpipers. But no Ruff…….

The couple we had met earlier had braved the wind and returned to the marsh. The four of us stuck out like a breaker against the gray sky, the first thing the wind hit as it roared off the Pacific Ocean. As high tide was fast approaching, hundreds of additional shorebirds arrived in our little corner of the world. Fingers numbed with cold we scanned again – two Bairds Sandpipers appeared where none had existed before. The numbers of sandpipers and plovers increased till the mudflats and shallow water appeared to be a single moving mass. Thoroughly numb and stiff by this time, our scanning took on a more urgent approach. All of these birds were wonderful- but we were trying to put our eye on the prize! With no Ruff yet in sight,  the rains began anew – a light mist, but our misery level was increasing. Couldn’t Scott and I have a warmer, more sedate hobby to share – say, cribbage by a warm hearth?

And then RUFF! There she was, meandering about on the higher ground to the east of the phalorope stream. Blithly picking and walking about, as gorgeous as any bird could be. I yelped and quickly shared my find with Scott and the frozen couple. We zoomed in on this lovely bird, her russet feathers flagging in the wind. Where she had been was a mystery as we had been in place for over two hours waiting and seeking. But now we settled down to enjoy this incredible sight. We were left alone as the other couple took in the Ruff and then took off, presumably to some place warm.

Fascinated, we enjoyed her forays along the muddy field and were rewarded with good comparative looks as the Pectoral Sandpipers passed her repeatedly. Then she did her best Virginia Rail imitation – bobbing, pecking, and squeezing through the tall reeds next to the phalorope stream. At times our scope was filled with Semipalmated Plovers, Red-necked Phaloropes, Western Sandpipers, Least Sandpipers, Killdeer, American Pipits, Pectoral Sandpipers, but the Ruff stood out above the rest. The rufuous wash on her flanks highlighting the complex tan, black, white patterning on her young feathers. We had the chance to share her with a couple of other birders who had arrived. They too looked and left – as the wind continued to howl and the rain picked up to a whole new level.

Finally, we were satiated with viewing and as I could no longer feel the tripod through my frozen fingers, we reluctantly packed up to head back to the nest. Crazy – no, passionate – yes! We both agreed, we’d suffer the traffic, wind, and rain any day of the week for such a great life bird.

Tallyho!

Published on September 10, 2010 in Uncategorized. 0 Comments Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , .

Tallyho! James Fisher had it right when he used this shout of joy to recognize the moment when a life bird is discovered. Particularly when the circumstances are fraught with challenges.

Recently, I was leading a client for a few days in the Pacific Northwest and he brought along a rather daunting list of target birds. Doable, but daunting. Hot July weather is less than ideal for discovering birds, but we ventured forth, unswayed by the season or the weather, to see what we could see. List in hand and bins at the ready, we left pre-dawn and headed for Eastern Washington. The temperatures were already in the 80’s by our first few stops. The birds proved wiser than birders, tucking down into the shade and remaining quiet, still, and cool. Slowly, we crept through the sage lands looking for a likely spot for Sage Thrasher. Stopping at the crest of a dusty country road, ignoring the American Kestrel family of four who followed our every move, we carefully scanned the sage. Fortunately one persistent Brewer’s Sparrow sang a tune for us, breaking the silence of the empty landscape. Scoping out the sparrow, we discovered a young Sage Thrasher perched high on a rabbit brush. Moments later, the Thrasher adults and one other fledgling filled our viewfinder. TALLY HO! Two lifers – sparrow and thrasher – and it is only 90 degrees.

The Ponderosa Pine forest was beckoning us with the potential of shade and Lewis’s Woodpecker. Even before we made our shady retreat, a Lewis’s appeared nearby, hawking insects in the sage and plucking berries from nearby shrubs. As we luxuriated in stunning views of this magnificent pink, glossy green woodpecker bringing food home to its young I began to suspect that my shoulders may be turning the same shade as the red on the woodpecker’s head. Undaunted by the stifling heat and increasing sunburn we headed off in search of the White-headed Woodpecker.

Moving from thin pine shade to blasting heat we racked up Pygmy Nuthatch, White-breasted Nuthatch, Hammond’s Flycatcher, and Western Tanager. We ignored the omnipresent Western Wood-Pewee, and searched in vain for the White-headed Woodpecker. Slowly, and with some feeling of dejection, we began to drag our tired hot feet back to the Jeep and TALLY HO! Perched in the side of a pine above the Jeep was an adult White-headed Woodpecker. Heat and exhaustion forgotten, we watched in excitement as it flew to a nearby grove and fed its newly fledged young. After much chatter and bouncing from pine to pine, the fledgling settled down on a trunk and preened for long moments. Fascinated we watched as the youngster fell right asleep – taking a much deserved nap in the hot afternoon.
A tremendous day – filled with success, but there were still two more birds on the wishlist for tomorrow.

After driving several hours and up to 6,000 feet on Mt. Rainier, we hastened out of the vehicle. Miles to hike and life birds to get. In less than an hour we had hiked to snow level and slowed to a mild amble. Horned Larks with begging young peppered the hillside, and American Pipits pipped across the talus slopes. But the Gray-crowned Rosy-Finch and White-tailed Ptarmigan eluded our searching eyes. But not for long – Tallyho! The lovely and elusive Gray-crowned Rosy-Finches were foraging amongst the low heather, glowing in the alpine sun. And to our delight their busy feeding forays brought them within inches of our hiking boots. After a long photo session and a full emersion of this tremendous species we turned our attention to the final wish to be fulfilled on this weekend trip – the White-tailed Ptarmigan.

Positive we had heard their quiet murmurings above us on the rocky talus slopes, we scanned and peered. We checked every rock, low shrub, and dirt patch we could find, but to no avail. But our resolve is not so easily softened – after all, we had climbed, hiked for hours and were presently donating blood to every mosquito on Mount Rainier. So we settled down on a rock to wait for movement. Feeling much like a sacrificial victim destined to provide the basis of the entire food chain, we sat as the mosquitos fed and fed and fed. What? Movement! TALLY HO! What was once a rock formed into a hen Ptarmigan quietly muttering to her five balls of fluff bouncing from rock to rock. I slowly released my breath realizing I had not inhaled sufficiently for the long agonizing moments we had waited. A glorious exhausting weekend of life birds in the sun had come to a happy ending. Tallyho, indeed!

Dog Days of Summer

Published on August 25, 2010 in Uncategorized. 0 Comments Tags: , , , , , .

What do you do when there are no birds? Seriously, NO birds! Ramblin’ Rose clients had invited me to do a tour for them at their annual campout near the base of Mt. St. Helens tucked deep in the forest along the Cispus River. Lovely area, brimming with bird life a few weeks ago – but deep in the dog days of summer, the birds have dispersed. Even the resident Pacific Wrens are skulking in the shadows rather than filling the forest with their liquid songs.

Undaunted, we arose pre-dawn and ventured to a nearby trail winding through the trees and along the edges of an old beaver pond. Surely the edge and the water combination would produce a few species. As we meandered along the silent trail a hint of panic was welling up in me. Expectations were that I would show them and teach them about birds – but there were none.

But a quick glance around revealed that the rest of nature was still in abundance. Stooping, I picked up a Yellow-spotted Millipede and encouraged everyone to smell the black multi-legged critter curled up in my hand. Immediately everyone in the group was smiling in amazement. Yes, they smell of almonds – a lovely rich scent. But why? The scent is to dissuade and warn any predator of the presence of cyanide and the danger that lurked within. The combination of warning colors and almond scent was working as hundreds of millipedes were safely enjoying the feast of newly-trimmed plants along the trail’s edge.

Next we sorted through several different species of fern for which the Northwest forest is famous. We saw the diminutive and delicate oak fern next to a robust sword fern. I explained separating the lady fern (whose fronds form the shape of a woman) from the bracken fern with its fronds growing near the top of a long singular stem. We paused to enjoy the beauty of maidenhair ferns cascading down a bank. Chosen for their strength and deeply colored beauty, their black glossy stems were used by many native groups in the northwest in basket weaving.

Whoa – what are those fantastic bright red berries? We stopped in awe of the deadly baneberry plant. Less than six of these little berry beauties will kill you. In fact every part of the plant is poisonous – including the leaves, stems, and roots.  Yet despite this fact, natives of the area discovered chewing the leaves and placing the mixture on wounds had healing powers.

Decorating all of the ferns and understory plants were dome web spiders. These amazing creatures spin a canopy of silk in the shape of a dome or upside-down bowl. Once this creation is complete, they position themselves under the ceiling of the web in anticipation of insects who – in their attempts to fly over the dome – collide with the nearly invisible trip wires above the bowl. Crashing into these traps, the insects fall to the roof of the dome to be consumed by a hungry spider.

The group was captivated looking high and low for spider webs, plants to identify and any other natural wonder. Wow, look at the size of that slug! Sure enough, the fantastic banana slug – another Northwest specialty – was sliding up a stump. We all took turns gently touching the slug to experience the magic of a natural anesthesia within the slime; another predator deterrent. We even took the opportunity to practice a little natural medicine of our own. Would the numbing slime actually stop the itch of the incessant mosquito bites? Sure enough, the itching was gone within seconds thanks to the magic of the banana slug slime.

And so it went along the trail.  A chorus frog sat camouflaged on a fern frond, ready to leave the wetlands for the long winter ahead. Red-legged frogs were hopping away to disappear in the forest duff, gently stroking the velvet leaves of the thimbleberry and hastily avoiding the nasty barbs of the devil’s club till finally FITZBEW! A Willow Flycatcher has never sounded so good! Just on the edges of the old wetlands and at the end of our time together we enjoyed the sounds of the flycatcher. Moments later, a Common Yellowthroat graced us with her presence. Now we could finally say that we have had a bird walk.

If You Could Be a Bird…

Published on August 2, 2010 in Uncategorized. 0 Comments Tags: , , , , , .

If you had the chance to be a bird – what bird would you be? When this question is posed to a variety of folks, most answers center around what we admire most about our avian friends – flight. Answers generally trend toward hawk, eagle, even vulture for their magnificent ability to soar across the skies. They represent unlimited freedom, movement and the extreme joy of space. But with a little thought other interesting answers will be forthcoming.

Black-capped chickadee. Their familiarity and ability to grace our homes and gardens with such cheeky joy makes them an endearing choice. The Northern Cardinal. The peak of popular bird culture gracing holiday cards, sweatshirts, painted plates and ornaments. A wren of any type known for their gorgeous songs and fussy attitude – reflecting a confidence few humans experience naturally. Cedar Waxwings with their elegant beauty, seemingly tranquil social life and a penchant for luscious berries. Even owls make the list – so one can stay up all night long!

Having given this question some thought my choice would be a Rufous Hummingbird – male! Considering all aspects of a bird’s life from incurable flying feats, special habitats, excellent food preference, to “lifestyle” it is definitely a male Rufous. They are a handsome, even splashy,  spectacular bird that no one can view without admiration. Brilliantly fast with the ability to fly at great heights, super maneuverability and spectacular acrobatics.

As for lifestyle and habitat, consider the fact they live where it is consistently warm and the flowers are in bloom. Summers in the northwest sipping from alpine blooms, winters in Mexico and Central America enjoying the spectacular blossoms of the tropics. An occasional insect thrown in for good protein wouldn’t be too difficult. Add in a truly heroic migratory journey, so intense that early “scientists” assumed they rode on the backs of geese to their winter and spring destinations.

Why a male hummingbird? – well, his primary job is to look good and chase away any competitors. The fierce attitude is well represented in all three inches of his compact athletic body.
If I were a female hummingbird, rather than flying about enjoying the sweet nectar and occasional insect, my hours and days of spring and summer would be spent in a constant frenzy of nesting and raising young. Gathering moss, lichen and hours of silk stealing from nearby spider webs in order to build a work of art in a tiny cup nest. But a lot of work! Once this tiny sturdy structure was done; I would have then have to incubate two jellybean size eggs all alone, while continuing to feed myself. The minute naked young were hatched, it would be a constant battle to keep them warm until they could thermoregulate on their own, coupled with an endless gathering of enough insects to fill their voracious appetites. Not I – I’d rather perch fiercely on the tip of a branch flashing my gold gorget and swirling after any presumed threat (butterfly, swallow, or another hummingbird) just because I could.

The Hazards of iPods

Published on July 16, 2010 in Uncategorized. 0 Comments Tags: , , , , , , , .

Stop! Is that a Pygmy Owl? No, it is someone playing their iPod AGAIN! iPods, iPhones, mp3 players of all kinds can be a wonderful tool for birders and they can also be a terrible hazard for birds and birders alike.

Any device that plays bird songs and calls is a tremendous tool for birders, if they are used appropriately. They can and should be used to learn the vast array of bird songs, calls and flight notes that are essential for bird identification. Their lightweight portability allows them to be used in the car, at home, at work (ok, maybe the boss would frown on this application) and while walking to do errands. But their use in the field must be considered carefully.

The majority of birds use songs to denote their territory and attract mates. The use of a playback recording device during the spring disrupts the male from his territory creating a situation where he is expending much-needed energy to respond to an unseen intruder with boundless power that he cannot compete against. Calling a bird out using an electronic device also exposes him to predation unnecessarily. In a word, it is extremely unethical to disturb a bird on its breeding grounds for the selfish pleasure of getting a better look, capturing a photograph, or for the power one feels by controlling birds’ actions.

Since the advent of such lightweight, easy-to-use devices such as iPods, we have all been tempted at one point in time to use them to elicit a response from a bird. I learned my lessons early on. As a long time birder and a new iPod owner, I was excited and intrigued to try it in the field. I knew better, but common sense was a very slow second to greed as I was leading a small birding trip in a heavily forested tract of land. Nearby the trail a Winter Wren was singing his beautiful long clear song. No one with me had ever seen a Winter Wren or could see this particular bird hidden in the deep undergrowth. Despite the fact that it was spring at the height of nesting season, I pulled out my iPod and played the Winter Wren’s song. For about 3 seconds, before the wren pummeled straight out of the underbrush right at my head. He was oblivious to any danger, predation, or people. Suddenly, he was only intent on attacking and driving away the “intruder” in his territory. Shock and the realization of my actions translated into a quick shut down of the recording and an apology and explanation to my group. Not sure I could fathom a way to apologize to the Winter Wren who’s upset chattering followed us down the trail.

Since then I have used recordings with great care to aid myself, the groups I am leading, and to minimize any adverse impact on birds. Often their best use in the field is to play them quietly for myself or a group gathered around so we know exactly what song to listen for. A quiet reminder of the tremendous music around us is a fantastic teaching tool. Blasting a Pygmy Owl recording at full volume, however, frightens birds away, blinds the ear to the surrounding music, and detracts from a natural experience. The choice is ours.

We should all honor, protect, and respect the many birds that have provided us with hours, weeks, and years of birdwatching pleasure. Limiting the use of recordings for teaching and learning will ensure allow this mutually beneficial relationship to continue. And by following the American Birding Association’s Birding Code of Ethics we can continue to do just that for many years to come.

Read the ABA’s complete Birding Code of Ethics here.