Monthly Archives: June 2021

Saving Birds. It’s Time.

In just the past year, protecting birds has reached a new level of urgency. Please read and share this post with as many people as possible. Thank you!

First off, I want to announce that thanks to all of you, Braden’s last post about the QUACH shattered records for number of views and is already SECOND all-time for our posts, trailing only Birding San Antonio’s River Walk? Are You Nuts? which we posted two-and-a-half years ago! Taylor Swift, can you feel us breathing down your popularity neck?

Probably not. The truth is, FatherSonBirding will never be as popular as Taylor Swift and other celebrities, but birds SHOULD be! As we all know, they provide millions of us a steady source of fun, interest, inspiration, and connection. Unfortunately, we also know that birds are in big trouble, not only from traditional threats such as poaching, invasive species, pesticides, and habitat loss, but from the GIANT SHADOW looming over all of us: climate change. I just read an article about the recent heat wave in the American Southwest and how it might devastate food supplies for millions of migrating birds. This is the very definition of depressing news!

How, as bird-loving, sensitive beings, do we handle what’s happening to birds and other species? It’s not easy—but it is easy to feel overwhelmed and hopeless about the world situation. If we want to save our planet’s incredible biodiversity for our children and grandchildren, however, we have to turn our worry into action. Braden and I have four strategies for doing this that we’d like to share with you.

**Swallows and other migrating songbirds have been particularly hard-hit in the last year due to climatic chaos that has most likely impacted their food supplies.** **(Shown: Northern Rough-winged Swallow)**

Strategy #1: Education. We don’t know about you, but we feel that education is the key to every problem that needs to be fixed, and birds offer almost unlimited ways to further education. Just taking a friend out birding and showing her what you know helps raise awareness and concern about what’s happening to birds and the importance of protecting and creating habitat. Taking a school class or group of seniors out magnifies that effect—and gives you a chance to correct harmful misinformation out there such as “Climate change is a plot by radicals to harm oil companies” or “Climate change is happening, but is not caused by humans”. If you want to show people just how dramatically our planet is heating up, you can go a step further and share this rock-solid website: NOAA Global Temperature Increase by Year. Our blog, we hope, helps further bird education, too. That doesn’t mean that people will always do the right thing once they have accurate information, but if we leave education up to Fox News or Breitbart, let’s face it, we’re sunk!

Grebes, ducks, and many other birds depend on “watery” refuges to survive—refuges that are coming under increasing pressure as the American West and other parts of the globe become more arid from climate change. (Shown: Eared Grebe)

Strategy #2: Money. We’re always surprised how reluctant many people are to donate money to groups working for causes they believe in. Sure, some people don’t have funds to spare, but let’s be honest, most birders do. If you find it hard to open your bank account, just ask yourself, “What kind of world will I or my children live in if I don’t help solve climate change, habitat loss, and other problems? What will my money be worth then?” The answer isn’t pretty, and yet for the price of a dinner out, we can all make a significant contribution to a group working for birds. Following is a short list of Braden’s and my favorite groups that are helping birds. Check ’em out, then crack open that wallet!

Cornell Lab of Ornithology—the maker of eBird and Merlin makes huge investments in science and education to raise awareness of birds and promote conservation.

Bird Life International—Braden’s favorite group works on the entire international spectrum of bird threats, and also works with local communities to help protect birds and habitats.

Audubon—still the biggest name in birding, Audubon promotes bird conservation and education, and works on legislation to protect birds. (Note: the national, state, and local chapters are all independent entities. Donations to national don’t trickle down, so consider donating to all three.)

American Bird Conservancy—also works on a wide range of bird-related issues including the urgent problem of outdoor cats.

Houston Audubon Society —a regional bird powerhouse, promoting bird education and conservation, and protection of vital habitats, especially for migrating birds. Think High Island from the movie The Big Year!

Union of Concerned Scientists—one of Sneed’s favorite groups, we make monthly contributions to this group working to fight rampant disinformation and promote rational, scientific solutions to a host of problems facing us.

Strategy #3: Reducing Consumption. As birders, we need to acknowledge that we use the planet’s resources by driving around looking for birds. This makes it especially important that we reduce our consumption of fuel and other resources in other ways. There are myriad ways to do this, from turning out lights to making sure we eat our leftovers to letting our grass grow a bit longer before cutting it. Braden’s and my biggest reason for avoiding fast food restaurants these days isn’t the food quality, it’s the amount of waste they generate. We know many families that have cut down on Christmas gift-buying in favor of donating to worthy causes, and that’s a trend we wholeheartedly endorse. After all, is your uncle really going to miss that singing trout on the wall? The possibilities to reduce our footprint by reducing consumption are almost endless. Please note: the idea of plastic recycling sounds good but is basically wishful thinking. According to the EPA, less than 10% of plastic is recycled. The vast majority of it ends up in landfills, where it will persist for hundreds or thousands of years—hopefully, but not necessarily, before it strangles or gets ingested by a bird. One solution: encourage your stores to carry products packaged in truly recyclable or reusable paper-based, metal, or glass containers and whenever possible, choose appropriately. Of course, always bring your own reusable bags when shopping!

**Plastic waste may be killing millions of birds that ingest it. It’s also a major source of mortality for birds who, like this pelican I encountered in Texas, get tangled up in it.**

Strategy #4: Let Your Politicians Know! Okay, voting for politicians who support environmental causes is a no-brainer, and let’s face it, that means voting for Democrats these days (check out this scorecard from the League of Conservation Voters). We find this partisanship mystifying since we know that millions of Republicans love birds and two presidents who enacted some of the most important environmental legislation—Teddy Roosevelt and Richard Nixon—were Republicans. (Note there are a very few current Republican officeholders with strong environmental records such as PA’s Brian Fitzpatrick. Again, see the scorecard.) Nevertheless, it’s important to let ALL of your representatives know that you support taking steps to replace carbon-emitting fuels with renewable energy, support mass transit, protect habitats, and do other things that safeguard birds and other wildlife. We write, email, and call our state and US representatives on a regular basis, and also write letters to the editor of our local paper about key issues. Don’t know who your representatives are? No need for embarrassment. Here’s a handy website for looking up your federal reps: Congress.gov Similar sites exist for each state. Just do a search on “find my representative”. Audubon, the Union of Concerned Scientists, and other groups on our list above also do an excellent job keeping us informed about important legislation and issues.

You undoubtedly can think of other strategies for helping birds, from picking up plastic litter to running for office yourself. But here’s a closing thought: by saving birds, we are saving ourselves. Some may disagree, but we feel that if the majority of bird species don’t survive, humans probably won’t either, and really, it’s time to get serious about it. If we can cultivate an attitude among birders that each time we go out birding, we will also do something to help birds, there’s going to be no stopping us. Thanks for taking action.

**In saving birds, little actions lead to big results.** **Thank you for taking the first steps!**

Are you ready for . . . the QUACH?

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My dad walked back to the car, frowning. “Well, unfortunately it looks like we’re gonna have to go birding somewhere else today.”

I sighed, frustrated. We’d been trying to bird Swiftcurrent, in east Glacier National Park, for years, and we’d still never gotten a normal birding session there. Most years it had been closed, like it was today, because of COVID-19 or construction. The year we had gotten to bird, it had been pouring down rain, and while we scored an incredible experience with a pair of Harlequin Ducks in Lake Swiftcurrent, those were basically the only birds was saw. Now, not birding Swiftcurrent drastically decreased our chances at Boreal Chickadee, a bird we’d been wanting to find for as long as I could remember.

Reviewing our options, we could just immediately head south and hope to bird Two Medicine, and possibly arrive in West Glacier earlier than expected to look for Black Swift and Harlequin Duck. I wanted to go somewhere new, however, so we headed north towards the closed Canadian border crossing. Hopefully we could find some cool habitat, possibly with Boreal Chickadees, though that species had rarely been reported from that area of the park. Along with it being a cool bird, the main reason my dad and I wanted the chickadee so badly is because in terms of Montana lifers we’d been completely skunked during the rest of our trip, missing American Golden-Plover, Broad-winged Hawk, Magnolia Warbler and more. We’d gotten cool birds, like Sprague’s Pipit, but none of them had been new species for us.

**As we learned in Glacier National Park this summer, birding the road less traveled almost always leads to great surprises.**

After taking a short loop through the most desolate plains we’d seen yet in Montana, we turned towards Glacier’s mountains again. As we drove, the habitat shifted, first to stunted aspen forest and then tall, dense spruce-fir forest. It was a habitat I’d never seen in the state, if at all: the southernmost reaches of the vast boreal forest that stretched across Canada. As we crossed back into the national park, my dad spotted what was probably a robin, but we pulled over anyway—I was excited to see what birds were singing from this new habitat.

A Northern Waterthrush echoed from the side of the car as we got out, and several Brown-headed Cowbirds whistled from the tops of trees. Every single bird was a surprise to us, since we really had no idea what to expect. And despite the fact that we hadn’t truly entered the mountains yet, my dad’s altitude app told us that we were at more than 5000 feet!

Suddenly my dad turned around. “I just heard a chickadee.” I spotted something flit to the top of a tall spruce about fifty feet away, and raised my binoculars. While it was still too far to tell what kind, I was definitely staring at a chickadee, so I grabbed my camera from the car and hurried over to where there appeared to be a pair of them. Once we drew closer, I raised my binoculars, registering salmon flanks and a brown cap.

**Finding not one, but half a dozen Boreal Chickadees in a place we never expected not only checked off a long-held goal, but laid the crucial foundation for the QUACH!**

It was one of if not the first time I’d ever said the F-word in front of my dad! It was like my brain had exploded, I’m not sure whether from the fact that the birds were Boreal Chickadees or from the fact that we’d managed to find a new Montana species at last on this trip. The chickadees bounced around the spruces for a while, then disappeared.

After recovering from the shock, my dad and I hugged and got back in the car, intent on seeing what else we could find along this paved-yet-empty road. Starting at the closed Canadian border crossing, we drove south doing five-minute point counts along the road like we’d done searching for Sprague’s Pipit the day before.

**Seeing a White-crowned Sparrow on its alpine breeding grounds gave us new appreciation for this relatively common species.**

The most common sparrows were White-crowned Sparrows belting confusing songs from every level of the trees, and while Yellow and Yellow-rumped Warblers were present, they were at least equalled in number by Wilson’s Warblers and Northern Waterthrushes, neither of which were common in Missoula. Amazingly, we picked up Boreal Chickadee at two more points, getting much better looks and photos of three more pairs. They were one of the more common species here, too, and were by far the most common chickadee, though we also picked up a lone Mountain and a possible Black-capped, the latter from a lower altitude aspen area. Canada Jay was the most common corvid, though we also saw a single Steller’s. Another treat were two boisterous Olive-sided Flycatchers, well-known boreal forest breeders, calling and posing for us.

In the wetter areas we found Fox and Lincoln’s Sparrows, Tree Swallows and Warbling Vireos. Red-breasted Nuthatches, Ruby-crowned Kinglets, Pine Siskins and Chipping Sparrows greeted us at most stops. We also got a Varied Thrush, which was a surprise as we were probably about two miles from the easternmost limit of its breeding range.

**What? A Mountain Chickadee near a Boreal Chickadee? What was this songbird madness???**

I’d recently read a book about the lack of birds in the boreal forest, and while there definitely was lower diversity than say, the wet second-growth of West Glacier, it was not as if there weren’t any birds. At most stops we picked up at least three or four species singing or calling.

After drinking our fill of the boreal forest and saying goodbye to the chickadees, we headed south along the eastern edge of Glacier National Park. We stopped at a good-looking, alder-filled riparian area for lunch, picking up new species for the day like Black-headed Grosbeak, Lazuli Bunting and our first-of-year MacGillivray’s Warbler, then got onto Highway 2 again, back in familiar territory.

When we reached West Glacier, though, we discovered something tragic—you had to have a permit to enter the park, a new rule they’d employed to counter the insane surges of tourists they’d had the past few years! Thankfully, we could enter without a permit after 5 p.m., but still it was sad that the days of entering Glacier easily may be over.

**Since we know them mostly from burn areas, this Olive-sided Flycatcher at a roadside pullout proved a special delight!**

We parked by the old park entrance to wait until five o’ clock, and while my dad took a nap I wandered around the healthy mountain-riparian forest along the milk-blue Middle Fork of the Flathead River. As I hiked, I suddenly heard more chickadees calling, and in a dense patch of Lodgepole Pine I found them: Chestnut-backed Chickadees!

Earlier in the day, after seeing the Boreal Chickadees, I’d mentioned to my dad: “Just you wait. We’ll somehow manage to see three of the four chickadee species and have trouble finding a Black-capped.” Black-capped, of course, is well-known for being not only the most common chickadee in Montana but also one of the most common birds here, period.

Suddenly, my fear had come true: I’d seen the three most difficult chickadees in one day, but had not yet seen a Black-capped (while again, we’d possibly heard one up by the Canadian border, it had not been a positive identification so we hadn’t counted it). I rushed back to the car to wake my dad.

“Let’s go find some cottonwoods. I need to see a Black-capped Chickadee.”

As we drove around West Glacier (the town; the park hadn’t opened yet), I rolled down my windows, straining to hear any piece of a chickadee call. We pulled into a fishing access parking lot surrounded by cottonwoods and began walking, though the birds were fairly quiet. Four in the afternoon was about as bad a time as you could go birding, yet here we were, trying to find one that we saw in our backyard every single day. I promised to myself that if we found a Black-capped, I would memorize its scientific name, Poecile Atricapillus.

After admiring a gorgeous male Rufous Hummingbird that posed for us, I heard a chickadee call from behind me. Then, a sharp-looking Black-capped flew towards us, landing mere inches from us on a branch! I’d done it! I restrained myself from hugging the chickadee and instead gave my dad a high-five in celebration of the Quad-Chickadee Day I’d had—or, as my dad officially christened it, “the Quach.”

Note: “Quach” is a registered trademark of FatherSonBirding, legally protected throughout the solar system. Anyone using it will be subject to massive fines and stern looks. Not really. But you heard it here first!

**Who would have thunk a common Black-capped Chickadee would prove the key to Braden’s epic QUACH? Only the wily chickadee, of course!**

Birding for Mammals

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“eBird really needs to add a checklist for mammals!” I tell Braden for the 58^th time. What has prompted my sudden outburst? A marmot scurrying off the road in front of us. The truth is that the past seven years of birding have led us to an amazing number of mammal sightings in Montana and beyond—mammals we wouldn’t otherwise have seen if not for birding. Sure, we’ve observed the usual pronghorn, elk, deer, and bison by the hundreds, but it’s those smaller, cooler mammals that I most remember.

**Actually, there are two moosii (plural for moose) here—the other behind that bush on the right.**

Let’s start with moose. Okay, they’re not smaller, but they are way cool—so cool that we remember every single moose location we’ve encountered, from the burn area around Lincoln to the meandering creek near Philipsburg. Coyotes rank similarly high in the mammal standings, whether they be trotting around one of our favorite birding hotspots, the Gravel Quarry, or galloping hell-bent-for-leather across the grasslands of Bowdoin National Wildlife Reserve like the one we saw last week.

**Is there a roadrunner somewhere around here???**

Some mammals, though, deserve special honors. For years, I’d been griping about never seeing a live porcupine—a fact that astounded me given how many dead ones I’d spotted over the decades. Shortly after covid hit, however, Braden and I were driving into the Lee Metcalf NWR when I noticed a suspicious shape balled up on a bare branch right above the road. “No, it isn’t. It couldn’t be . . . “ I gasped. It was. A live porcupine. Finally!

A few weeks later, I was hiking up a trail about a mile from our house looking for a Three-toed Woodpecker that Braden had found. Suddenly, a long white shape climbed up onto a rock not twenty feet from me. I stared and it stared back—though not with its mouth open like mine. It was a short-tailed weasel, by far the best look I’d ever seen! And as a bonus (and disadvantage for the weasel), it wore its mismatched winter coat against the snowless ground, demonstrating up-close-and-personal the threats animals face from global warming.

Our mammal list also includes numerous red foxes, bighorn sheep, beavers, hares, otters, mountain goats, bats, muskrats, whales, dolphins, monkeys, raccoons, black and grizzly bears, seals, prairie dogs—even a bobcat in Aransas NWR and our first-ever javelinas down in Texas. And that’s not even mentioning the beluga whales, polar bears, and walrus Braden has seen on nature trips with his grandparents. I admit that we still have never glimpsed a wolf, lynx, wolverine, or thylacine—but we hope to.

Which goes back to my original point: Can’t eBird add a basic mammal checklist, at least for the ABA area? In no time, they’d be collecting millions of invaluable data points for scientists and conservationists. Plus, it would be a lot of fun. I know. I know. Some of you are saying, “Use iNaturalist!” I hear you—but I’m never going to. One app is plenty for my curmudgeonly brain. So what say you Cornell? Are you game—and not just Big Game? I and millions of other birders are waiting!

The Road More Pipit (Grassland Birding Part 2)

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The burbling call of a Long-billed Curlew echoed across the dry fields as my dad and I stepped out of the minivan to listen. We stood on a dirt road about 20 miles west of Malta, craning our necks as we squinted at the sky, searching for a tiny dot that might be a Sprague’s Pipit. The unnamed road ran smack-dab through the middle of some of Montana’s best pipit habitat, and after missing several other prairie and marsh specialists at Bowdoin that morning (including Baird’s and Nelson’s Sparrows and Sedge Wren), we had come here for one last-ditch effort.

Even for us, it’s hard to get our head around the fact that Long-billed Curlews we’ve seen in, say, Morro Bay, California (above) fly to the grasslands of Montana to breed. We’ll take ’em, though!

Unfortunately, we had limited pipit experience to draw on. We’d only seen one before, in a thunderstorm on a road-turned-to-gumbo last July. Nick Ramsey had spotted that bird as we had frantically knocked mud off our car wheels, so we’d never even found the species by ourselves—making locating one now seem like a long shot. Thankfully, few clouds loomed on the horizon, meaning we probably wouldn’t have to deal with another thunderstorm.

Our search tactic involved conducting five-minute point counts every half mile, getting out of the car and listening for the birds. This was how most pipits had been detected on this road in the first place, and thanks to the science project I’d worked on last summer, I knew roughly how long to stay at each place before designating it “pipitless” and moving on.

The first couple of points produced good birds, but nothing of exceptional interest. Vesper and Grasshopper Sparrows sang from the tufts of grass along the fence, and a few acrobatic Franklin’s Gulls spun in the sky above us. At places with more dense shrubbery the dry, buzzy trills of Clay-colored Sparrows joined the grassland chorus.

**Our “Road More Pipit” also boasted the greatest numbers of Lark Buntings we’ve ever seen!**

Then the scenery changed. Rather than parking next to fenced-off rangeland, the habitat on the left side of the road turned into a more natural-looking swath of native shortgrass prairie. As I got out of the car, I swore that I heard what eBird describes as the sound of “a cascading waterfall of tiny pebbles.” I’d been continuously playing the song as we’d driven between points to instill it in my head, so I couldn’t tell if what I’d heard was just my own brain playing back the song of a Sprague’s Pipit or not. Then, I heard it faintly again. As my dad grabbed his camera from the car, I set off into the prairie after the sound, flushing a pair of Ring-necked Pheasant from a bush. I climbed several ridges, watching my footsteps for rattlesnakes, until it sounded like the bird flew right above me. I looked up, and suddenly saw it—a tiny speck hovering in the blue space between the clouds, singing away.

Here’s a Sprague’s Pipit—Not! If we were to show you a photo of one, it would look like a tiny dot in the sky. This American Pipit, though, looks almost identical to its much rarer cousin, so we ask that you pretend.

After showing it to my dad we just stood there watching what would have been the most incredibly boring part of birding for many people—but not for us. The pipit never descended, and instead slowly drifted further and further away until it was out of sight. We’d found a Sprague’s Pipit on our own! Of course, we knew that they were in the area, but locating an individual bird was still no small task!

The pipit was just the beginning of the prairie species we spotted on that road. As we kept driving, we began to pass large numbers of displaying Lark Buntings, which flew up about five feet before floating down, compared to the pipit’s display hundreds of feet above the earth. We passed a cattle grate, flushing a quintuplet of Sharp-tailed Grouse, several of which posed on the side of the road for us. Some of the Lark Buntings flashed white rumps, revealing themselves to be Bobolinks instead, which had a very similar display to the buntings, and in a very short-cut grain field I spotted three Chestnut-collared Longspurs. We’d ticked off most of Montana’s prairie birds on just this one road! Thrilled and relieved by our success, we got back on Highway 2 headed west, ready for the birds of Glacier National Park.

**There’s no better reason to celebrate than finding your very own Sprague’s Pipit—though maybe graduating high school comes close!**

Great Grassland Birding

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After our Montana Big Year last year, Braden and I opted not to simply chase a high species count this year. In 2021 we decided to a) explore new places b) find some new Life Birds and c) revisit favorite birds we’d spent time with before. When we set off on our five-day central Montana trip last week, however, neither of us realized what a rich grasslands experience we would encounter.

It began with an almost mandatory annual pilgrimage to Benton Lake NWR. We both tend to think of Benton as a place full of ducks, grebes, and other waterfowl—including a dependable pair of Black-crowned Night Herons—and we found these birds in abundance. Immediately upon entering the refuge, however, I hit the brakes for an unexpected surprise: a pocket of four Upland Sandpipers! While not rare, these ungainly-looking dinosaur holdovers always delight us, and to see four together constituted a birding bonanza. What’s more, we found three more UPSAs at Benton, along with the other great grasslands shorebirds Long-billed Curlews, Willets, and a lone Marbled Godwit.

Clockwise from above: Upland Sandpiper, Long-billed Curlew, & Willet

Our day had just begun, however, as we decided to try to find Stilt Sandpipers at a fairly isolated lake north of Grass Range. Again, we found the sandpipers, which were hanging out with at least nine Bald Eagles, but it was the grassland birds along the dirt roads that most impressed us. These included four more Upland Sandpipers, Western Meadowlarks, Eastern & Western Kingbirds, Lark Buntings, and at least four other kinds of sparrows. One of these was a drab bird Braden never expected to see on our trip—Brewer’s Sparrow. Though we were well within its range, we’d never found one in this area, which just shows how much you can discover if you get off the beaten birding path!

**With their bold “pied” colors, Lark Buntings are one of our favorite grassland species—but spotty in many areas.**

As we were approaching a left turn, I suddenly stopped and whispered “Look ahead.” About twenty yards in front of the car stood a Sharp-tailed Grouse—one of six we found on this particular route. Not only that, it posed beautifully giving us by far our best looks ever at this species. This species helped compensate for our miss on Mountain Plover, an unfortunately uncommon species extirpated from most grasslands by habitat loss or modification, especially the removal of bison and prairie dogs, and the conversion of short-grass prairie to many types of agriculture. Hopefully, we’ll find one next time!

**Braden and I never turn down a grouse while birding, and this Sharp-tailed gave us one of our best looks ever.**

My second favorite grassland bird experience of the trip happened two days later at Bowdoin NWR, when we had a wonderful experience watching a Grasshopper Sparrow singing on top of a stubby cactus. With my crappy ears, I can no longer hear this bird, but this one decided to give me a break by posing in full view where we could watch and photograph it. Which may leave you wondering what our BEST grassland bird experience of the trip might be? I’ll let Braden tell you about that next time!