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The Big Weekend, Version 3.0, Part Two

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Clay-colored Sparrow.

 

Braden here again, to continue our birding trip to Malta.

The next morning, after a brief detour at Malta’s Trafton Park, we thought up our slogan, “Bowdoin or Bust”. Last June, when we had visited Bowdoin National Wildlife Refuge last, it had taken us at least forty five minutes to get there from Malta thanks to heavy construction on the way there. This time, thankfully, the road seemed all right, and we made it in about 20 minutes. We parked at the visitor center, shot bug-killing chemicals all over our exposed skin, and hit the pond loop.

The cottonwoods surrounding the small pond were alive with calls; some I knew, like the che-bek of the Least Flycatcher. Others were foreign to my ears. Our target bird for this area was Baltimore Oriole, an uncommon Montana migrant. We had searched for them at Trafton Park last night, with no luck, and now hoped to see the one that had been reported here recently. No oriole. There was also a surprising lack of Great Horned Owls; we had seen four here last summer.

Next we entered the Auto Tour Loop, a 15-mile drive around the huge lake that Bowdoin was famous for. The American White Pelican, Bowdoin’s biggest celebrity, nested here in huge numbers. As we began the drive around the lake, I called stop so we could identify a small sparrow perched on a shrub to the left of the road. This was the first, but definitely not the last “sparrow stop” of the day.

We continued up the road, identifying Clay-colored, Savannah and Grasshopper Sparrows every few minutes. At one stop, we met some fellow birders from Bigfork, near Flathead Lake, and they pointed out the strangely-metallic song of the grassland-dependent Baird’s Sparrow.

The drive was great, better than we expected. We saw grebes, ducks and shorebirds(including a Black-bellied plover) in large numbers on the lake, and ear-birded the surrounding prairie. At the end of the loop, as we began entering widely-spaced trees, a bird on the wing caught our attention.

Eared Grebe on nest.

“Turkey Vulture!” I said, watching the large raptor try to stabilize in the wind. Suddenly, though, another bird took off below it. The bird flew like a flicker, but had a very unusual black and white pattern on its back and wings. We could not see the head.

At the same time, my dad and I turned towards each other and said, “Red-headed Woodpecker!” My dad gunned the engine and we chased it. As it crested the hill, though, we lost it and couldn’t relocate it again.

Bewildered and sad, we took another walk around the visitor center pond. Nothing new showed itself—the day grew hot and the birds started settling down. As we finished, though, I spotted a tangerine-colored bird swoop down from a cottonwood into some distant trees.

“Daddy! Oriole!”

I didn’t want to get too excited, as both Bullock’s and Orchard were also possible, but I hoped for our target, the Baltimore. And as it popped back up into view, the neon orange body and black head confirmed it. We saw a Baltimore Oriole!

Bowdoin had not disappointed.

Baltimore Oriole, Bowdoin NWR. Bad Photo, great experience.

The Big Weekend, Version 3.0, Part One

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Townsend’s Warbler, Glacier National Park.

 

Braden present.

Ever since 2016, the year we did our Big Year, my dad and I have had a tradition of going all out on Memorial Day weekend. That year, with our friend Nick Ramsey guiding us, we raced from Lee Metcalf Widlife Refuge south of Missoula to the Seeley-Swan Valley close to Glacier National Park, picking up a variety of great birds: Black-backed Woodpecker, Ruffed Grouse, American Redstart (not as common for us as for you Easterners), and one of my favorite birds: Common Yellowthroat. The following year, we again focused on our area and racked up 56 species in 3 hours, including a stunning pair of Red-naped Sapsuckers.

This year, when I first heard that I had to go up to go to a Boy Scout camp called Grizzly Base on Memorial Day weekend, I was disappointed. As we grew closer to the date, though, I began realizing two things: Grizzly Base itself could be good birding, and we were only there for a day and a half, leaving almost three more days to bird. For the latter idea, I was thinking we could get up to Glacier National Park; it was pretty close and convenient to where we would be staying. Fortunately, we did even better than that.

The camp was really fun. I learned a lot of things, and got to know the people and place I would be working with this summer. Grizzly Base’s birds were nothing to look down upon either as we spotted more than twenty species including a Bufflehead nest, Townsend’s Solitaires, a Pileated Woodpecker, a Western Tanager and a pair of Wood Ducks.

Early Saturday afternoon, though, my dad and I packed up and set out to bird in earnest.

We followed Highway 2 around the southern border of Glacier National Park. We stopped at a spot for my dad to take a nap, and I was surprised to see and hear several Townsend’s Warblers, along with lots of Yellow-rumpeds and a pair of Rufous Hummingbirds. As we crossed the continental divide, things got drier. First, it was just drier forest; soon we were on the dry northern part of Montana known as the High Line, prairie pothole country. We stopped to photograph a Ferruginous Hawk nest right off the road, and spotted American Avocets, Wilson’s Phalaropes and dozens of ducks in the small ponds we passed.

Ferruginous Hawks are a generally a rare sighting–so finding a nest was amazing!

We also made a list of goal year birds. The three we had just seen were on there, along with as many small birds as possible: Lark Sparrow, Lark Bunting, Clay-colored Sparrow, Brewer’s Sparrow, Chestnut-collared Longspur, Grasshopper Sparrow, Baird’s Sparrow, Sprague’s Pipit. Baltimore Oriole topped our list, as it was on my Top Ten ABA Life needs list, and several had been reported around Malta the last couple days.

As we reached Havre, a large-ish city about halfway through Montana, the long drive was starting to get to us. Not helping was the fact that the road signs kept displaying Malta as at least 80 miles away, and we weren’t sure if we could make it. My dad kept driving, determined as ever.

As we headed east from Havre, the ranches that had been lining the road transformed into crop farms instead; particularly irrigated fields. Red-winged Blackbirds lined the fences and gates, and I casually glanced at every one to verify its identity. Once, as we passed another one, the bird turned away from highway. The back of its head was a large patch of cream, and its back was a brilliant pattern of white.

“Bobolink!! Turn around!!” I shouted as we screamed by.

“What?! Do we have to?”

“Yes!” So we did. That Bobolink, a rare sighting for us, got us to Malta, where our intensive birding would begin.

As more prairie has been converted to farmland, Bobolinks have switched their habitat from tallgrass prairie to irrigated fields.

 

Birding the Galapagos

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As we watched these male frigate birds ardently advertising for a mate, a female landed next to one of them. Let the family begin! (photo by Sneed B. Collard III)

Almost exactly two years ago, our family was fortunate to visit the Galapagos Islands. Braden and I eagerly anticipated the birds we might see, but weren’t sure what birding might be like in one of the world’s most famous places. Our findings? That while the Galapagos is full of fascinating birds to see, it is one of the world’s best places to think more deeply about birds, their evolution, and behavior.

Upon arriving, the first thing we noticed is how tame Galapagos birds are. Many, after all, evolved with few predators to worry about, and this was clearly demonstrated as we hiked within a few feet of nesting Blue- and Red-footed Boobies, Magnificent Frigatebirds, and a sublime Galapagos Dove. Even Yellow Warblers hopped around our feet seemingly without fear. Just try getting close to one in Montana! This close proximity, of course, was great for photography, but also for watching bird behaviors up-close.

Watching these flightless (Galapagos) cormorants perform their intricate mating dance was one of many unexpected, delightful birding surprises we experienced in the islands. (photo by Sneed B. Collard III)

One time, we stood thirty feet from four or five male frigatebirds sitting in stick nests that they had built. When a female flew over, the males all spread their wings, puffed out their gular pouches, and “rattled” their beaks. It was their way of shouting “Choose me!” It worked too! As we watched, a female landed next to one of the males to begin the “dating” rituals.

The most interesting Galapagos birds were the finches. Perhaps the drabbest, least noticeable birds in the islands, the finches played a key role in helping Charles Darwin tease out the basics of evolution by natural selection. How? When he visited the islands in 1835, he collected many animal specimens—including finches—from the different islands. Back in England, a colleague informed him that the finches actually included many different species. This, along with observations he’d made on Galapagos tortoises and other species, helped Darwin realize how different habitats and conditions can shape animals and create new species.

One Galapagos finch that Darwin missed is the Coke-swilling Finch—a rare species we were lucky enough to see in action! (photo by Sneed B. Collard III)

During our visit to the islands, Braden and I barely got started learning to identify the different finches, but we soon began to distinguish between larger and smaller species. Evolution has especially acted on the birds’ beaks, both in size and shape, as the beaks are a key to what size seeds and other foods the birds can eat. Not surprisingly, the beaks have formed the basis of long-term studies by modern scientists, as documented in one of my favorite books, Jonathan Weiner’s excellent The Beak of the Finch: A Story of Evolution in Our Time. Check it out—and if you ever get a chance to visit the Galapagos, jump on it. It will permanently alter your perspective on birds and life on our amazing planet.

Braden and I never had any doubt about our Bird of the Trip. Every day, Blue-footed Boobies delighted us with their incredible flying and fascinating behaviors! (photo by Sneed B. Collard III)

Irruption!

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This year, there are more Evening Grosbeaks than ever at our feeder–but still nowhere near the amount we saw our first year of birding. (photo by Braden Collard)

Braden here.

During our first year of serious birding, my dad and I thought Evening Grosbeaks were common. Every day in fall, if you just walked the block from our house to Rattlesnake School, you would be amazed at the numbers of these boisterous finches gathered there. There were hundreds, maybe even a thousand of them in their drab fall plumage, tearing apart any pinecone unlucky enough to be spotted.

Two years later, during our first major Big Year (which you can read about in my dad’s fall book Warblers and Woodpeckers: A Father-Son Big Year of Birding), we saw only two individuals: a pair we briefly glimpsed up Pattee Canyon while staking out an American Three-toed Woodpecker nest.

How is it possible that we saw tons one year and only 2 another year? Irruption.

Red Crossbills are another boreal finch that has irruption cycles. (photo by Sneed B. Collard III)

When I say irruption, I’m not talking about a misspelled version of the thing happening in Hawaii right now. An irruption is a mass migration of birds (in this case) to a different area, generally south. Finches are the main type of group that has irruption cycles, but many birds that winter in the U.S. and southern Canada, such as Snowy Owls, Rough-legged Hawks, Bohemian Waxwings and Northern Shrikes also irrupt. Irruption almost always results in large numbers of birds appearing in areas where they normally aren’t, however it isn’t historically unusual.

One of the main reasons for irruptions is food supply. For example, when there aren’t enough rodents to go around up north in winter, Snowy Owls will generally move south into Northern U.S. states. Sometimes, if the shortage is extreme enough, the northern birds will extend their ranges past their usual limits and end up in places that are unheard of. During a major Snowy Owl irruption year, for instance, Snowies were found as far as Texas and Hawaii.

Irruptions can occur due to food abundances, too. The year before we experienced the Evening Grosbeak overload probably had pairs producing higher amounts of young than usual. The next year, the young had nowhere to go, since all of the territories up north were filled, so they moved south into Missoula.

While not as big of an irruption year as before, this year’s Evening Grosbeaks are costing us plenty in bird seed! (photo by Sneed B. Collard III)

This year and last year haven’t quite met that first year’s standards yet, but it has seen crazy irruptions for tons of finches. Last winter kicked off with large numbers of grosbeaks and Pine Siskins, while this year Common Redpolls, Cassin’s Finches and (yet again) more grosbeaks are stealing the stage. Who knows what will show up next?

 

A Banner Yard-Bird Year

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Yesterday, when I returned from walking our dog, Lola, I found a mob of Evening Grosbeaks attacking our bird feeder. In the nearby bushes sat a group of nervous Cassin’s Finches waiting for a break in the action, while in various other parts of the yard, I espied Red-breasted Nuthatches, a Song Sparrow, Black-capped Chickadees, a Pygmy Nuthatch, Violet-Green Swallows, and what I believe to be our First-of-the-Year Calliope Hummingbird. I freely admit that some of these birds would have been here anyway, but in many ways, this delightful assemblage was the culmination of dedicated, determined home habitat improvement.

The last few years, Evening Grosbeaks have been regular visitors to our yard, even if they stay only a few days. (photo by Sneed B. Collard III)

We moved into our just-built house twelve years ago. Our new neighborhood had destroyed an old apple orchard that undoubtedly had provided habitat for a host of animals including birds, so one of my goals was to not only get a lot of plants in fast, but to plant as many native plants as possible. I painstakingly picked out a huge variety of annuals and perennials, imagining the native Eden that would soon blossom here.

The deer had other ideas.

This year, Cassin’s Finches have ruled the back yard—that is when the Evening Grosbeaks aren’t around! (photo by Sneed B. Collard III)

For the next ten years, I waged an annual battle with these ruthless ungulates as I planted native plants and the deer gleefully ripped them out. During that time, their tastes evolved to include both “deer delicacies” and the vast majority of so-called deer-resistant plants various experts had touted. Fortunately, a few of my hardier species survived including buffalo berry, maple sumac, mountain mahogany, and golden current—along with aspen, larch, pine, and other plants that I took pains to protect.

Over the past three or four years, our persistence has visibly paid off as we have observed an ever-greater variety of species and numbers not only feeding from but finding shelter in the habitat we have created.

Of course, the feeder that Braden faithfully refills and the two new bird houses we installed don’t hurt (more on that in a future post), but most rewarding is to just spot birds such as Ruby-crowned Kinglets, Song Sparrows, and Lazuli Buntings that find safe haven in the plants that we have nurtured.

As our vegetation cover has increased, Ruby-crowned Kinglets have become regular visitors in both fall and spring. (photo by Sneed B. Collard III)

The take home message? Creating great bird habitat takes effort and persistence, but it’s absolutely worth it. In an age when birds face an overwhelming barrage of threats from habitat destruction to global warming, it’s the best feeling to know that we are making a few birds’ lives just a little bit better.