Tag Archive for 'Belted Kingfisher'

The day was a culmination of a long and intense week. Frustrating medical news for my partner Scott had preceded my arrival at the Washington Ornithological Society’s annual conference in Port Angeles. The stress-filled week had been accompanied by many sleepless nights and anxiety-filled days. Today I was up at 4 a.m. preparing to lead a field trip for members of the WOS. The cries of Common Nighthawks joined my pinballing thoughts as I packed my car with field guides, scope, and binoculars. As is my usual style, I was punishing myself with unnecessary pressure.

As the first woman Vice-President of the WOS, I always feel undue weight of expectations and the crushing weight of cultural prejudice. WOS is resplendent with male ornithologists who have proven their mettle in the field, and today I was going to lead a birding trip for them, including the president of the organization. Doubts haunted the predawn light – would I be able to identify all of the gulls, what if a rare shorebird landed nearby, would I recognize it, what if I, in a moment of panic, turned a Northern Flicker into something ludicrous like a Purple Martin?

As we gathered in the parking lot it quickly became apparent that the field trip participants were birders like myself. None were armed, or sporting horns on their head, or spitting fire in my general direction. Perhaps I could survive the day unscathed. As we arrived at the first destination at the mouth of the Elwha River I congratulated myself that I had not gotten lost along the way, or dropped any of the other cars. Blinded by doubt, misgivings, and terror, one is likely to drive anywhere.

As we slowly made our way on foot toward the Strait of Juan de Fuca and the mouth of the Elwha River, I slipped easily into my bird leader role calling out birds that I could hear flitting through the riparian zone. Chestnut-backed Chickadee, Song Sparrow, and White-crowned Sparrow rolled out of my mouth as they had a thousand times before for hundreds of different audiences. “Notice the high call of the Brown Creeper, the cat call of the Spotted Towhee, see there, perched in the alders, a flock of Cedar Waxwings.” One participant called out “Bewick’s Wren.” Stopping to listen, I gently said “No – listen carefully – those are Red Crossbills and they’re coming this way – look up against the clouds.” Sure enough a dozen crossbills coursed across the sky flashing in the sunlight.

By the time we reached the water, I had shed much of the anxiety and worry and was again enjoying the time with birds and people who love birds. Together we scoped the waters. I helped everyone distinguish Pelagic from Brandt’s Cormorants, squealed with joy as I pulled out three Red-throated Loons still sporting their breeding plumage, compared the brown of the Marbled Murrelets with the gray of the Rhinoceros Auklets, and shared the group’s disappointment that only California Gulls and a few Heermann’s Gulls were present.

By our next stop at Tongue Point/Salt Creek County Park, I had relaxed into my usual democratic style of leadership – polling the members of the group on interest and focus. Forest birding was thin but enjoyable, but the real treats were held at the waters edge. Three Black Oystercatchers were picking their way along the exposed rocks of the intertidal zone – “catching” California Mussels. The sun glowed off of their brilliant red legs, beak, and even their orbital ring was brilliant. The group was ecstatic with the joy of discovery. Their attention wasn’t budged till a nearby Belted Kingfisher caught a flatfish. I pulled the group along with my shouts of amazement so we could all watch together as he pummeled the fish on a madrone branch, tenderizing his breakfast. How delightful; this group of true birders were interested and excited to watch behavior of a fairly common bird rather than twitch for the rarities.

The field trip was over all too soon. We had extended it to a nearby wetland area to pick up four species of swallows and Least, as well as some Western Sandpipers. But by now I was relaxed and ready to continue birding. The group agreed that they, too, wanted to continue, so off to Ediz Hook we went. Black and Ruddy Turnstones, Black-bellied Plovers and more Oystercatchers, alcids and yet one more loon species were rounding out our day. Eventually staring into a scope at yet the 300th Common Murre, straining into the sun to see something other than a California Gull was beginning to take its toll. I thanked everyone for the delightful day as we headed back to the hotel.

I needed a little time to myself to regroup and check in with Scott. News from home is good as he is feeling better, so I headed out to the waterfront trail along the Strait. Crouched on the pebbly shore line I emptied my mind; allowing the heat of the sun to soak into my shoulders as I watched through the clear waters of the strait a tiny hermit crab skitter along the rocks. Anxiety, worry, and stress melted away with the gentle breeze, warmth of the sun and the presence of a simple crab. Glancing up, I discovered two Common Loons in full breeding plumage floating on the water just a heart beat away, close enough that I could clearly see their jewel like eyes glowing red in the sunlight. I accepted their presence as a gift. I was filled with the joy of the moment; thankful that Scott will be well and I will continue to lead successful birding trips in the future.