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Abbotts Lagoon, Point Reyes National Seashore (or Chasing Migrants, Part II)

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After our amazing encounter with Vaux’s Swifts and shorebirds (see our last post), Scott and I had another productive session the next morning at the Ellis Creek water recycling facility and Tubbs Island, both in Sonoma County. As an added bonus, we got to bird with two of Scott’s pals, Steve and Sean. Steve and Scott began birding about the same time and were still in the beginning phases of their birding careers, but Sean grew up birding and taught us all some cool ID features. Most important, he confirmed that the peeps Scott and I saw the day before were indeed Least Sandpipers. With his help, we were also able to identify a couple of sneaky Western Sandpipers that were comingling with the approximately 400 Least Sandpipers in front of us. As much as we enjoyed these sessions, what Scott, Steve, and I looked forward to the next day even more. That’s when we planned to bird legendary Abbotts Lagoon.

(L to R) Sean, Steve, and Scott investigating the wilds of the Ellis Water recyling plant!

Abbotts Lagoon sits within Point Reyes National Seashore, and none of us had ever before birded it. However, Braden and our occasional guest contributor, Roger Kohn, had both been there and given it high marks. As we crested the mountains at Point Reyes and drove down toward the coast, I didn’t know what we would find, but held my hopes high.

Reaching the beginning of the lagoon requires a mile or so hike through remarkable dwarf-like vegetation that reminded me of steppe or tundra, probably because fog enshrouded the lands around us. I hadn’t realized we would have to hoof it so far, but I was grateful because we got great looks at many California residents: California Quail, California Scrub-Jays, White-crowned Sparrows, and most exciting, Wrentits. One of these, in fact, popped up no more than fifteen feet from us—unusual for a generally secretive bird. Nontheless, it was the lagoon and beach beyond that propelled us forward and when we reached the lagoon we found . . .

Though a bit of a hike, the mile-long walk to the lagoon offered a nice variety of songbirds and raptors, including this banded White-crowned Sparrow.

Nothing.

Well, almost. Instead of vast rafts of shorebirds ripping up the mud, only a couple of wading birds and American White Pelicans could be made out as far as the eye could see. Darn, I thought to myself. But if there’s an, ahem, cardinal rule to birding it is this: You Never Know. So we plowed ahead, following the harder beach sand, and soon came to a little bend where we got great close-ups of three Red-necked Phalaropes and a Pectoral Sandpiper—a bird I recognized only from my hours studying them in Montana. This bird, in fact, was quite interesting because PESAs show up only in small numbers on the West Coast, and generally only in fall. A lifer for Scott and Steve!

These Red-necked Phalaropes and a lone Pectoral Sandpiper were the highlights of our walk around the lagoon to the beach.
Pectoral Sandpiper.

Continuing toward the ocean, we spotted two Black-bellied Plovers and a flight of shorebirds in the distance, but it wasn’t until we reached the ocean that we got some real action.

I was just as excited by pelagic bird possibilities as I was by shorebirds, and once on the beach I immediately set up the spotting scope we’d lugged the two miles out there. Like shorbs, I rarely have a chance to observe pelagic birds, and I felt determined to make the most of this rare opportunity. Right away, I saw a number of dark shapes out on the water—shapes that appeared and disappeared on the four-foot swell. Oh man, I thought to myself, I’m never going to be able to figure out what those are. In such situations, I have learned to relax and just hang in there, and that’s what I did now.

From studying before the trip, I came up with several likely possibilities of species that could be out there. These included Common Murres, Pigeon Guillemots, various storm-petrels, and Sooty Shearwaters. In fact, as we arrived, I noticed at least eight medium-sized dark birds swooping low over the water. When they turned, I spotted light patches under the wings. First victory: Sooty Shearwaters.

Then, I saw a larger bird floating a couple of hundred yards offshore. The shape shouted “Loon” and I thought, “Hm, that looks like it has a silvery sheen on its head.” Victory #2: Pacific Loon!

Identifying pelagic birds at great distance can take great patience and not a little skill, but in time, many species reveal themselves. The keys to this Pacific Loon? A silvery sheen on its head, a thinner bill than found on Common Loons, and a thin black “chin strap” or collar around the neck.

After that, it got harder, but I did manage to ID some distant Common Murres by the white around the face and neck, thinner “up-pointed” bills, and longer body lengths. A seabird expert undoubtedly would have found additional species, but as a seabird novice, I felt satisfied. Humorously, as I was looking through the scope, I suddenly saw a whale’s tail emerge behind several of the birds. Did I look up? Of course not! Who has time for pesky mammals when there are ocean birds to be seen!

But let us not ignore the beach itself. As Scott, Steve, and I enjoyed the waves and emerging sun, the shorebirds decided to put on a show. On one side of us, a flock of at least 150 Least Sandpipers landed only a hundred yards away. On the other side, a couple of hundred Western Sandpipers settled down. Talk about your perfect conditions for comparison! In fact, this was my first chance ever to get good, leisurely looks at Westerns and I took full advantage of it.

The beach at Abbotts Lagoon offered by far my best opportunity ever to study Western Sandpipers. Note (if you can) the overall pale appearance and the reddish “shoulder blades” typical of juveniles this time of year. WESAs also tend to have longer, more curved bills than other peeps.

You remember that Sesame Street song “One of these things is not like the other?” Studying the Least Sandpipers, I spotted a much paler bird with a thick black bill and black legs. Another peep: Sanderling!

Meanwhile, among the Western Sandpipers, I espied smaller birds with shorter bills and dark collars around their necks—Semipalmated Plovers!

I was especially tickled to find half a dozen Semipalmated Plovers among the Western Sandpipers. Go plovers!

To add to the show, a Peregrine Falcon landed on the sand behind us, and on the way back we saw several other raptors including a White-tailed Kite. After Abbotts, we got a delicious lunch at Inverness Park Market, and then headed to Limantour Beach for great looks at Surf Scoters. All in all, it was an awesome day chasing migrants, featuring good birds, good food, and best of all, great company.

Trip Report: https://ebird.org/tripreport/276917

Compared to the Abbotts Lagoon Beach, Limantour Beach was a bit of a desert, but did offer up three nice Surf Scoters.

Chasing Migrants, Part I: Swifts, Peeps, and Plovers

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In case you missed our last post, be sure to check out my new book, Birding for Boomers. It’s a great gift for anyone you know of any age or background who might be interested in getting into birds. It’s also a great way to support our efforts here at FatherSonBirding! Why not order one or two copies—or even a dozen—right now?

I’ve had little time to catch up on our birding adventures this time of year. With new books to promote, house guests to entertain, seeing Braden off to his senior year at UMaine, and more, life has been a juggling act through August and September. I did manage two lovely trips to Freezeout Lake in August, one with my occasional birding buddy Steve Flood, the other with Braden right before he headed East. In mid-September, I also rewarded myself with a personal trip to the Bay Area to visit friends and relatives—and, of course, see as many birds as possible. Like the recent trips to Freezeout, my primary objective was to find and study as many migrating shorebirds as possible.

Despite birding for more than a decade, I still feel like a beginner when it comes to shorebirds. My recent trips to Freezeout were “study sessions” more than birding excursions, and I was grateful that Baird’s Sandpipers, Red-necked Phalaropes, Semipalmated Sandpipers and other species offered hours of observation and ID practice on each trip. I hoped for similar sessions in California. After I spent a few days with relatives in Oakland and reconnected with the delightful birds of oak woodlands, my friend Scott (see Eastern Odyssey 24: Return to Westby) whisked me off to the North Bay, where serious birding adventures commenced.

Before heading across the Richmond Bridge, we gave McLaughlin Eastshore State Park in Berkeley a try, but our timing was off as high tide covered the mudflats. Next, we visited the Las Gallinas Valley Sanitary District in Marin County. I enjoyed that, but again, we saw nothing spectacular. I was surprised to spot a lone Vaux’s Swift—a lifer for Scott—and eight or nine Black Phoebes put on a show, but it was a slow start to meeting our birding ambitions. Fortunately, things would pick up—dramatically.

Though they didn’t perch at the top of our target list for the day, Black Phoebes charmed us at the Las Gallinas water treatment ponds in Marin County.

After Las Gallinas (“The Hens”), Scott drove us to Reclamation Road in the San Pablo Bay National Wildlife Refuge, where we hoped—finally—for some shorebird action. Our first surprise wasn’t shorebirds, however. As soon as we got out of the car, I spotted four tiny shapes frantically flying west. “Hey, there’s more Vaux’s Swifts.” I really hadn’t expected to see these, but it did make sense. I knew they’d departed Montana in the past few weeks and that they followed the West Coast down to their wintering grounds in Mexico and Central America. Our four birds were merely a prelude, however. As Scott and I walked out toward the shore, we saw half a dozen more swifts. Then a dozen. Then, as we looked east, we witnessed a veritable river of Vaux’s Swifts flying toward us.

This photo doesn’t begin to capture the remarkable river of migrating Vaux’s Swifts that passed over our heads. Yes, those “dots” are the swifts! Swifts are a species of concern because of the loss of old growth forests and other natural roosting sites. Ironically, saving old brick chimneys should be a priority for those interested in protecting these birds.

“This is amazing,” Scott said as the birds stiff-winged it over our heads. “Have you ever seen anything like this?”

I shook my head. The most VASWs I’d ever seen at one time was perhaps a couple of dozen. Now, hundreds streamed past us—probably thousands! We learned from a passerby that they were most likely heading to the chimney of an old brick-making plant, a well-known roosting place for them. Scott and I were suitably awed by the sight. It was enough to make the whole day worthwhile, whether or not we ended up seeing shorebirds.

Nonetheless, as we walked out to the bay I was gladdened to see shallow mudflats and hundreds of dots scattered over them. “Shorebirds!” I rejoiced.

With San Francisco in the distance, you couldn’t ask for a more dramatic setting to study shorebirds! Many of those specks in the foreground are Least Sandpipers—though you’ll see a lot of other species mixed in!

As we drew closer, I set up the spotting scope, and quickly zoomed in on a dozen-plus Long-billed Curlews, at least fifty Willets, and what would turn out to be a couple of hundred Marbled Godwits. These were easily-enough identified. Not so the hundreds of small sandpipers, or “peeps,” that peppered the scene in front of us. Birders generally include four species under the “peep” category: Sanderlings, Western Sandpipers, Semipalmated Sandpipers, and Least Sandpipers. Since it was the nonbreeding season, Sanderlings should have given off a distinctive whitish vibe by now, so I ruled them out, but what of the other three? The problem with peeps is that their coloration, size, bill shape and bill length overlap to a frustrating degree, and I just didn’t have enough experience with these to make a call. Least Sandpipers can be easy to pinpoint if you can see their leg color—yellow compared to black for Westerns and “Semipalms”—but when they were feeding in the mud, determining leg color often proved impossible.

As I often do in such situations, I called Braden. I described what I was seeing and said, “I am guessing that they are Semipalmated Sandpipers, but I just don’t know.”

“Well,” he informed me, “the good news is that if there are large numbers of them, they aren’t Semis because Semipalmated Sandpipers don’t move through the West Coast.”

With Braden’s help, I narrowed down these far-away “peeps” to either Least or Western Sandpipers. Confirmation would have to wait until later, however.

Doh! This surprised me because we do see them in Montana. I never realized, though, that our Montana birds were on the western edge of their migration pathway from their northern breeding grounds to their wintering grounds in the coastal tropics.

“If I had to guess,” Braden continued, “I’d say you’re looking at Least Sandpipers. You said that they’re darker brown and Westerns give off a grayer color.”

Still, even through the scope, the birds were too far away for me to be sure, so I recorded “peep sp.” in my eBird checklist—at least for now.

One species, however, excited me more than all the others. Almost as soon as we reached the mudflats, I spotted birds that I had especially hoped to see: Black-bellied Plovers. Black-bellied Plovers are one of the world’s largest plovers, and they have the widest distribution. Like many shorebirds, they breed mainly in the arctic regions, but in winter they disperse to coastal areas of every continent sans Antarctica.

At San Pablo Bay NWR, I was especially excited to see Black-bellied Plovers mixed in with Long-billed Curlews, peeps, Marbled Godwits, and other shorebirds.

Braden and I had only ever seen Black-bellied Plovers about twenty times—and only four times as they migrated through Montana. The birds are known to flock up in winter, but even in places such as California and Texas, we generally only saw a few at a time. Now, as I trained my scope out over the mudflats, I began picking out more and more of these birds. At first, their light color and larger size made them look kind of like gulls, but their more erect posture and stubbier dark bill gave them away. One bird they can easily be confused with are American Golden Plovers, which look almost identical except for their smaller bill, head, and overall size. Some AGPLs also show flecks of gold color even in winter, but today, I saw no AGPL suspects and counted sixty Black-bellied Plovers in front of me.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen this many before!” I effused to Scott. “This is really amazing.”

What I didn’t realize is that I vastly undercounted. I took a couple of photos of shorebirds in flight and later, going over the images, I made a startling discovery. One of the flying flocks consisted of at least 140 Black-bellied Plovers! How could I tell they were BBPLs instead of other shorebirds? In this case, it happened to be easy. Black-bellied Plovers are the only shorebirds to show distinct black armpits under their wings!

When I took this photo, I didn’t realize these birds were Black-bellied Plovers—easily the largest flock I have ever seen. The black armpits make IDing this species particularly easy in flight.

It was a great way to end the day for both me and Scott and we celebrated with a fabulous Mexican food dinner with Scott’s wife Ginny and step-daughter Hayley. I went to bed happy—but eagerly looked forward to more migrating bird opportunities ahead.

https://ebird.org/checklist/S195291789

Birding for Boomers

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I have always envied people who took up birding when young. There are just so many advantages to getting started as a youth, from having a better brain to learn with to having better ears to hear and discern the world’s vast array of birdsong. The biggest advantage? You get to spend more of your life birding! Alas, it’s a fact that most of us take up birding later in life, when one or more of our sensory systems are shot—not to mention our knees, hips, shoulders, or (you choose). Braden and I are perfect examples of this contrast. Already an outstanding birder, Braden has a full life ahead of him to see, learn, and enjoy birds. As a Baby Boomer I’m in a different boat. Though Braden and I began birding at the same time, my hearing was already well on its way to taking a dramatic crash so that even with hearing aids, I now cannot hear a lot of bird vocalizations. Most important, I just won’t have as many years to enjoy observing and learning about birds.

I was thinking about this a couple of years ago, and especially about how many fellow Boomers are in the exact same situation I am in. At the same time, I also pondered how much joy and pleasure birding has given me, even in the “short” span of a decade! That’s when the thought occurred to me: I should write a book! I am happy to share with you that that book is now a reality. It’s called Birding for Boomers—and Everyone Else Brave Enough to Embrace the World’s Most Rewarding and Frustrating Activity.

More than a decade in the making (sort of), my newest adult book, BIRDING FOR BOOMERS, is AVAILABLE NOW! Order it by clicking on the cover above!

As its subtitle implies, this is not just a book for Baby Boomers. However, the phrase “Birding for Boomers” proved so irresistible that the publisher and I decided to stick with it for the main title. What the book really is, however, is a comprehensive guide for anyone interested in taking up one of the best activities on the planet!

In Birding for Boomers, I try to cover every topic that a beginning birder might need to know—including how not to die while birding!

After briefly—and humorously—sharing my own birding history, complete with its rewards and frustrations, Birding for Boomers launches into chapters that deal with almost every conceivable aspect of birding. I talk about birding equipment, field guides, and apps. In Chapter 6, I tackle the often-daunting process of learning to identify birds, complete with strategies for what to look and listen for. Subsequent chapters discuss bird feeders, birding “action wear,” safety, and which kinds of birds to look for in different habitats.

Whether we are a newly-hatched youth or a Boomer like myself, all of us face our own challenges when it comes to pursuing birds, and from the very beginning, I convey the message that no matter who you are, you’re not alone. Several chapters focus on hearing, eyesight, and physical limitations and how to accommodate them. Not all challenges are physical, however, and I discuss “birding while Black” and other issues that a typical heterosexual male white birder might not ever have to deal with. The basic message? Birding is an activity that can and should be enjoyed by everyone no matter who you are or where you come from.

My own hearing issues inspired me to pay special attention to the kinds of special challenges many birders face, both physical and situational.

Part VI, “The Advanced Birding Arsenal,” provides guidance for identifying particularly tough groups of birds—think sparrows, gulls, shorebirds, and flycatchers. It also delves into getting started on bird photography, or “how to spend your retirement savings.” It explains how to use eBird, by far the most useful birding app ever invented, and discusses uber-fun birding challenges such as doing a Big Year and participating in Christmas bird counts.

In “Boomers” I devote several chapters to finding the best places to bird—something Braden and I have written about frequently in FatherSonBirding.

I have to say that my favorite chapters discuss where to go birding. I begin by sharing tips for finding local birds right in your neighborhood, but then broaden that discussion to exploring some of America’s greatest birding destinations. I include tips for birding while on family vacations and how to study up on “foreign birds” ahead of time.

Perhaps the most important parts of the book detail what we can all do to help birds—including turning your yard, if you have one, into birding habitat. What are you waiting for?

The most important chapters are the last because here, I discuss the precarious state of many of the world’s bird species and what we can do about it. That includes supporting bird conservation groups, reducing our energy footprints, keeping cats indoors (see our post “Birding Brooklyn!”), and voting for politicians that support bird-friendly environmental policies. Those of us fortunate enough to own a house with a yard have the awesome opportunities to creating bird-friendly habitats. I myself did this when we moved into our current house (see post “Turning Useless Lawn into Vital Habitat”). Instead of filling up our plot with pointless lawn, I planted dozens of native plants that support birds. Honestly, this has been one of the most satisfying things I’ve ever done. Every year, chickadees, wrens, and/or Song Sparrows nest in our yard, and many other species visit to find fruits, nuts, and insects to eat.

Newly-fledged chickadees in our front yard are a testament that creating habitat pays bird dividends!

Birding for Boomers distills almost everything I’ve learned in my decade of intensive birding and writing about birds. I also reached out to dozens of other excellent birders—and even conducted some online polls—to augment my own knowledge and experience. I think you’ll enjoy the book’s entertaining, fast-paced style and know that I can count on you to buy dozens of copies for yourself, your family, and friends. After all, there aren’t many other hobbies that bring so much joy to the world. What have you got to lose?

You can order Birding for Boomers this very instant from your local independent bookstore. You can also order it directly from Mountaineers Books, Amazon, and other outlets.

Follow this Cerulean Warbler’s example and order a stack of “Boomers” for your friends and family! Click here!

August: It’s Just Weird

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August is a weird month to bird. As we’ve no doubt mentioned before, we used to just write off August. I mean, most birds have stopped singing. No songbirds are migrating. Oh, and in Montana, hot, smoky weather often sucks the motivation from every pore of our bodies. Over time, however, our “bad August attitude” has, like the current presidential race, suffered a total reversal. Now, Braden and I cautiously look forward to August birding. The only problem? We’re never sure what we’re going to find. (See, for instance, last year’s August post “Birding Treasure at Garnet Ghost Town.”)

This August has been no different, but we began the month with some clear objectives. As Braden’s summer in Montana dwindles ahead of his final year of college, he had accomplished most of his summer birding goals save one: finding a Spruce Grouse. I could relate! After all, I saw my lifer spruce grouse only last year (see our post “Gambling on a Grouse-fecta”). As for me, I too coveted another Spruce Grouse on top of other Year Birds that had so far eluded me. The latter included Olive-sided Flycatchers, and Three-toed and Black-backed Woodpeckers. We both wanted to see migrating shorebirds, but realized it might be a tad early for some of them.

Sadly, Braden and I probably had only one day left to bird together before he departed, so any strategy to accomplish our remaining goals would involve compromise. Nonetheless, we set off last Sunday morning for a place we’d never birded together—Skalkaho Pass east of Hamilton. We got on the road before seven and made a brief stop at Lee Metcalf NWR hoping for shorebirds. No luck, probably because water levels were too high, but we did see a lot of the other usual suspects. Most surprising? Vaux’s Swifts, which I myself had probably never seen at Metcalf before, and at least half a dozen Sandhill Cranes—an unusually high number for that location. “Hm,” we thought, “Maybe some birds are already on the move for their fall migrations!”

There was something off about this Sandhill Crane at Lee Metcalf. I just can’t quite figure out what it was!

After a quick stop in Hamilton for breakfast sandwiches, we headed toward Skalkaho, the road transitioning from a two-lane road with a painted yellow line, to a “one track” paved road, and finally to dirt. We encountered an early surprise with a herd of bighorn sheep, and then climbed through a gorgeous forest canyon that gave off moist Pacific Northwest vibes and hosted a huge variety of trees. Here, we heard Pacific Wrens and Golden-crowned Kinglets, but our real destination lay high above us.

A great advantage of birding is that we see a huge variety of mammals during our adventures—including these bighorn sheep.

As the road snaked upward, we entered large burn areas that looked about ten years old. If you’ve been reading this blog (or my book Fire Birds) at all you know that we love to bird in burned forests. Not only do they provide great visibility, standing dead trees attract some of Montana’s most special birds. We pulled over a couple of times to listen for woodpeckers, but didn’t hear anything. Getting out of the car for the third time, however, we were greeted by a loud “Quick! Three Beers!” Braden and I laughed.

Though not a great photo, this is exactly the kind of pose we usually find Olive-sided Flycatchers striking in a burned forest.

“Olive-sided!” he exclaimed. And not just one, either. We would count at least half a dozen in the next couple of hours.

When we passed 7,000 feet we at last felt we had reached proper Spruce Grouse country. I had located a promising dirt road on the map, but before we reached it, we spotted another dirt road leading to the left. “That looks good,” I told Braden. “Let’s take that.”

“Sounds good,” he answered.

The burns near Skalkaho Pass were custom-made for finding cool birds.

It felt like a good day to find a Spruce Grouse. As on my Spruce Grouse excursion with Braydon Luikart last year, the day was overcast and misty, and I kept expecting to see bevies of grouse sitting in the middle of the road. That didn’t happen. In fact, we drove slowly for about twenty minutes, I keeping my eye on the road while Braden searched trees and openings along the road.

“C’mon, grouse,” I urged them, but it seemed like it might end up being a grouse-less day after all.

Then, Braden said, “Stop! Back up a few feet.”

I obeyed. “There, next to that stump,” he told me. “That definitely looks like a grouse.”

Sure enough, it was a gorgeous female emanating a distinctly Spruce Grouse aura. Just to make sure, I called up my Sibley app and compared it to a female Dusky Grouse. The two looked very different. Most diagnostic were this bird’s golden-brown patina and horizontal stripes across its breast and belly. Dusky females are grayer with more vertical barring in front.

We could have easily driven past this female Spruce Grouse as it imitated a tree stump, but Braden’s sharp eyes caught it as we rumbled by.

“We did it!” I affirmed. “We found a Spruce Grouse!” Neither of us could quite believe it. Even better, we spotted two babies popping their heads up and down right behind mom.

We continued up the road for another ten minutes, hoping to glimpse a male, but didn’t see one, so turned around and began bumping back toward the main road. We were not finished with this promising area, though. At another burn area, I pulled over. “Let’s just walk up the slope a bit,” I suggested, grabbing my camera and binoculars. We did, scanning the forest of dead tree trunks for any sign of woodpeckers. Then, we heard drumming to our right and our eyes locked.

“Let’s go over there,” Braden said, and we began picking our way over fallen logs and slash, and through fresh, thriving young trees and shrubs. As we walked, the drumming sound was replaced by tapping, and we grew closer and closer until we felt sure it was coming from a tall tree right in front of us.

“Do you see it?” I asked peering hard at the trunk against a backlit sky. Braden shook his head, so I circled around the tree, trying to spot it from different angles. Finally, I saw movement down low behind a green branch of a living tree. “I got it,” I called to Braden.

It took some time to get a clear look at it, and the first thing I saw was a lot of white showing on its back. This led the pessimistic side of me to conclude it was a Hairy Woodpecker. After all, no yellow showed on its head—the clear sign of a male Three-toed or Black-backed. As Braden also got his eyes on it, though, we began going through its other features. Most prominent? Black barring on its breast.

“Do Hairys have those black markings?” I asked, quickly consulting Sibley. “They don’t!”

This female American Three-toed Woodpecker provided an ideal “study bird” for teasing out the finer details of this species. We were thrilled to find it!

“It’s a Three-toed!” Braden agreed.

Wow. On this one day we had set aside to bird at elevation, we had found almost all of the birds we longed for, missing only a Black-backed Woodpecker.

We weren’t as successful with shorebirds, but that didn’t surprise us. Making our way over to Warm Springs, we found a nice group of Long-billed Dowitchers, and Greater and Lesser Yellowlegs, but not the Baird’s or Pectoral Sandpipers or small “peeps” (Least, Semipalmated, or Western Sandpipers) we were hoping for. Still, we did discover a surprise Black-crowned Night-Heron at the main Warm Springs ponds—something totally off our radar. In fact, I had started the day hoping for maybe one or two Year Birds, and ended up with six! Our success was only dampened by the knowledge that it might be our last big day of birding together this summer. Still, that is the yin and yang of birding—and of life. You just gotta enjoy it all.

Our grouse eBird checklist: https://ebird.org/checklist/S190227269

Montana County Sweep: Our Final Eastern Montana Odyssey Post

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Just so you don’t get lost in the narrative below, be sure you catch up with our last post—or, better yet, begin with the first post in this series!

We made our way out of the Ekalaka Hills along a different road than the one we came in on—and are so glad that we did! This route paralleled the top of a dramatic rim that dropped hundreds of feet to the plains below. As we drove, we experienced a wealth of warblers, nuthatches, Mountain Bluebirds, wrens, and other songbirds. I wasn’t quite satisfied with our view, though, so I told Braden, “Pull over. I want to walk to the edge.”

I will never get tired of watching and photographing Lark Sparrows, but this one along the Ekalaka Hills rim was especially cooperative!

Even as I approached the rim, I could see White-throated Swifts and Violet-green Swallows working the cliffs, and once we got there we experienced breathtaking views, perhaps all the way to South Dakota . Then I saw the bird I especially had been hoping for. “Braden!” I called. “Prairie Falcon!”

The cliffs on the south side of the Ekalaka Hills gave us our best-ever experience watching Prairie Falcons hunting.

This was a bird we had wanted to see the entire trip, but never dreamed of seeing in such dramatic circumstances. Braden hurried over to join me and we watched as this powerful, brown-backed bird deftly cut through the skies in front of us. “Wait. There’s a second one,” I said. “You’re right,” Braden exclaimed.

We spent a full ten or fifteen minutes enjoying the prowess of these magnificent hunters, and it made both of us feel good to know that the pair was undoubtedly nesting in a perfect place for them. Alas, we still had some serious goals ahead of us that day, so we reluctantly said goodbye and continued on our way.

Braden watching the Prairie Falcons performing their acrobatic flights along the Ekalaka Hills rim.

As mentioned in our last few posts, we began our trip needing to bird seven Montana counties to totally fill in our Montana eBird map. In the past week we had knocked off Daniels, Prairie, Wibaux, Fallon, and Carter Counties (see our last post, “Adventures in Ekalaka”). Today we faced the final two: Powder and Treasure Counties. The first proved easy. Driving twenty or so miles south of the Ekalaka Hills, we cut SW along a well-maintained dirt road to Hwy 212 and then turned NW. Eight miles later, we crossed into Powder River County, and immediately began picking up Mourning Doves, Eastern and Western Kingbirds, meadowlarks, and other “roadside attractions.” To meet our ten-species minimum, however, we stopped at a small riverside fishing access in Broadus. There, we collected 13 species including Lark Sparrows, Lazuli Buntings, Yellow Warblers, and yet another Red-headed Woodpecker! Continuing on toward Miles City, we left Powder River County with a total of 21 species. Not bad for just passing through!

By the time we reached Miles City, our trip had taken us almost 2,000 miles, and I guess a collective fatigue had caught up with us. “Do you mind if we just find a coffee shop and chill out for a while?” I asked Braden. He was totally agreeable, so we spent an hour or so relaxing in a City Brew I’d frequented while teaching a writing workshop there several years before. It was just what we both needed. More important, it prepared us for our last lifetime Montana county!

We did it! Our very last county we birded in Montana. And it only took us 11 years!

To reach Treasure County, we tooled down I-94 to the town of Forsyth, and then paralleled the Yellowstone River, driving west. About fifteen minutes later, we reached a sign marking the county line! We, of course, got out to immortalize the moment with our phone cameras, but even posing next to the sign we could hear and see Red-winged Blackbirds, a Western Meadowlark, and four or five other birds. We continued driving until we encountered a likely dirt road leading off to the north. We intended to try to reach the Yellowstone River, but found a promising thicket right before the road crossed some railroad tracks. “Let’s stop here,” I said.

Immediately, we were rewarded with a Lazuli Bunting, American Goldfinch, Yellow Warbler, Yellow-breasted Chat and other birds. The stars? A pair of American Redstarts that landed right in front of us, posing beautifully. Unlike with the Plumbeous Vireo (see our last post), I was prepared this time and took what may be my best American Redstart photos ever! Braden and I delighted in watching these birds for more than a minute before they flitted off into the thicket. But one more Treasure County surprise lay in wait.

One of our best looks ever at American Redstarts, this warbler was our reward for completing our mission to bird every Montana county!

Driving a bit farther, looking for a place to turn around, we headed left down a dirt road. “Uh, this looks like a driveway to that farm over there,” I said, but right then we both saw it—yet another Red-headed Woodpecker! (See our last post.)

I, of course, climbed out to try to get a decent photo since none of the other RHWOs had cooperated on the trip. This one, fortunately, did—more or less—peaking out behind a telephone pole. It was a great way not only to wrap up our Treasure County list (21 species total), but to punctuate the completion of our goal of birding every county in the vastness of Montana.

This Red-headed Woodpecker both surprised and delighted us when we pulled over to pad our Treasure County list—our last Montana county to fill in our eBird map!

Our Eastern Montana adventure was far from over. It would take us on a wonderful adventure to a private ranch, back to perhaps my favorite Montana place to bird (see our post Bear Canyon—Montana’s “Tropical Birding” Paradise), and above ten thousand feet to witness the enchanting lives of Black Rosy-finches. Rather than blog about these last adventures, though, I’ve decided to write a book, so you’ll just have to be patient. Braden and I hope that you’ve enjoyed these posts, however, and rest assured, we have enjoyed sharing them with you. Please be sure to share, and if you’d like to support FatherSonBirding, consider purchasing new copies of some of Sneed’s books. Speaking of that, his long-awaited new adult book, Birding for Boomers, is now available for pre-order. Don’t be shy. Click on the cover below now!

Trip Stats:

Total Species Observed: 203 (from a goal of 185)

Total eBird checklists: 209

New Montana Life Birds: 5 + 1 (Broad-tailed Hummingbird, Broad-winged Hawk, Least Tern, Eastern Bluebird, Black Rosy-Finch plus—for Braden—Piping Plover)

Miles Driven: 2,482

Our eBird Trip Report: https://ebird.org/tripreport/246744

More than a decade in the making (sort of), my newest adult book, BIRDING FOR BOOMERS, will be available on September 1st—but you can order it now by clicking on the cover above!