Category Archives: Bird Behavior

Birding the Burn—Again!

If you’ve followed our blog, you’ve probably realized that some of our favorite places to bird are recent burn areas—that is, burn areas that have not been destroyed by so-called “salvage logging.” I first fell in love with burn areas while researching my book Fire Birds—Valuing Natural Wildfires and Burned Forests. The book highlighted the fascinating work of biologist Dick Hutto, who showed what vital habitat burned forests are for more than one hundred bird species. Yesterday, after dropping Braden off for a Boy Scout leadership weekend near Seeley Lake, I decided to hit a burn area we’d visited with Dick last spring—the Morrell Creek watershed.

Burn areas provide outstanding habitat to more than one hundred species of birds. Unfortunately, so-called “salvage logging” destroys the burned forest by removing the larger-diameter trees that woodpeckers and other birds most need for food and shelter.

I had two ulterior motives for going there. One was to scout out a good place to bird with some kids next month. The other was to see one of Braden’s and my favorite birds, the Black-backed Woodpecker. As I was driving in, I was dismayed to find that the “salvage loggers” had already ruined a lot of the habitat along the road, but I eventually pulled over at a likely place to explore, one with larger-diameter dead trees still left standing.

Forget bluebird boxes! If you really want bluebirds to thrive, leave burned forests alone. Untouched burned forests may be the favorite habitat of these birds, providing food, shelter, and safety from squirrels and other small predators.

Right off the bat, I encountered large numbers of two favorite burn species: Mountain Bluebirds and Dark-eyed juncos, who seem to prefer burn areas to almost any other habitat. The bluebirds especially were going crazy. Twice, I saw groups of three (two males and a female, I think) chasing and mobbing each other, sometimes driving themselves to the ground. A territorial dispute? The birding equivalent of a bar fight over a girl? I wondered.

It didn’t take too long for me to hear woodpecker drumming and my heart raced as I hurried through the trees hoping to see a Black-backed. Unfortunately, I didn’t see the woodpecker until it was too late and spooked it before I got a good ID. Curses!

While Black-backed and Three-toed Woodpeckers get more attention, Hairy Woodpeckers are also burned forest specialists. If you have any doubt, just look at how well this Hairy blends in with its burned background. Like the Black-backed and Three-toed, the Hairy Woodpecker is “hard-headed” enough to drill into the rock-hard wood of newly-killed trees for wood-boring beetle grubs and to drill out nesting and roosting holes.

I kept walking through the forest, finding a great sense of peace from the sounds of Morrell Creek splashing below and from the dark, silent sentries surrounding me. Eventually I located another woodpecker drumming, but only snatched two blurry photos of it before it, too, flew away. My photos, though, did show a yellow crown, narrowing the bird to a Black-backed or Three-toed Woodpecker. Unfortunately, it was a crummy day for light and photography and the next woodpecker I saw was too backlit for me to identify. I did see a Golden Eagle circling above and an American Dipper in the creek below. A Hairy Woodpecker also posed for a picture. Finally, as I was about to leave, I heard more drumming. I grabbed my camera from the car seat and chased it down.

Success!

On a high narrow snag sat a beautiful male Three-toed Woodpecker drumming his heart out. It wasn’t a Black-backed, but I didn’t care. Three-toed Woodpeckers, like Black-backeds, are specialists of burned forests and I was delighted to meet up with this fellow—and even more delighted that he’d found a beautiful, blackened home.

Though lighting conditions stunk, I was delighted to finally get a good look at this Three-toed Woodpecker drumming on one of many awesome “drumming posts” to be had in the burned forest.

Birding San Antonio’s River Walk? Are You Nuts?

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If you’ve ever visited the downtown River Walk area of San Antonio, you’d be forgiven if you viewed it as less than a premier birding destination. Grackles, starlings, pigeons, and freakazoid hybrid ducks that grew up too close to Chernobyl overrun the place. Still, as a birder, I felt obligated to give it a legitimate chance, so on my work trip last weekend, I determined to explore the River Walk’s distant outposts.

From our recent trips to Texas and Georgia, we are learning just how well Red-shouldered Hawks adapt to an urban lifestyle. A big thank you to my daughter for letting me steal her point-and-shoot camera for the trip!

How many margarita-wielding tourists do you suppose notice this Red-shouldered nest?

Day 1: Even before leaving the main tequila-drenched tourist loop, I caught a surprising shape flashing above the river and landing in a nearby tree. I hurried to the top of a bridge for a closer look and, sure enough, IDed a Red-shouldered Hawk surveying potential prey (tourists?) below. Its mate soon swooped by and I located their nest in a tall palm near the junction of Commerce Street. “Whoa! Good start,” I thought to myself, but more surprises awaited me.

In the nearby Villita market area, I picked up Blue Jays, White-winged Doves, mockingbirds, and an unanticipated Orange-crowned Warbler diving into a drainage grate. Then, joining the main river, I began working my way downstream to meet a trio of Double-crested Cormorants near a small dam. “What the heck are they doing here?” I asked, astonished—but then found seven Neotropic Cormorants nearby! Before hurrying back to my conference, I rounded out my three-mile expedition by picking up Yellow-rumped Warblers, Ruby-crowned Kinglets, Northern Cardinals and my biggest prize of the day, a Lincoln’s Sparrow co-mingling with some House Sparrow hoi polloi.

Even though I saw them on the eBird checklist, the presence of cormorants on the uber-engineered San Antonio River caught me by surprise.

Day 2: After delivering a keynote address at the wonderful TCTELA conference, I had nervous energy to burn so decided to skip lunch and head directly upstream. As on the previous day, the farther I got from downtown, the better the habitat, and the better the birds. I saw some of the same species as the day before, but was delighted to flush six Inca Doves and a Yellow-rumped on the grounds of the San Antonio Museum of Art while two Black Vultures circled overhead.

I hadn’t intended to hike all the way to Brackenridge Park (about three miles each way), but am glad I did. In oaks along the trail, a Rufous Hummingbird landed next to me and I spotted an elusive songbird of some sort moving through the trees. I spent five minutes trying to get a clear view, and then . . . Blue-headed Vireo! Only my second one ever! In the marsh at the south end of Brackenridge, I added a lone Egyptian Goose, an Eastern Phoebe, and a Great Egret to my growing list. Then, I saw a startling splash of red fly to a nearby branch. Vermillion Flycatcher!

Okay, I admit it. When I saw this Egyptian Goose, I at first thought it was a Black-bellied Whistling Duck. In my defense, it was only the second time I’d seen these guys!

The lesson? Once again, that birding never fails to surprise and please, and can turn any trip into an adventure. After returning to the main tourist area, I decided to reward myself for my exploits with cheese enchiladas and a Corona, all the while gazing up at the flights of grackles and starlings above me.

Up next: my report on my first Uber ride and San Antonio’s Botanical Gardens—if Braden doesn’t come up with something even better!

Need Winter Birds? Go Skiing!

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At 6:50 a.m. on January 4, my family awoke and piled into our minivan, looking forward to the white slopes of Discovery Ski Resort near Philipsburg. After picking up my friend Eli, we took off, driving southeast towards the resort and Georgetown Lake, which coincidentally abounded with rare and spectacular birds in winter. During the CBC the week before, Gary Swant informed us that he had spotted both Great Gray Owls and Boreal Owls in the area. So, of course, before we quite arrived at Discovery, we took a short drive along a logging road running through the pine forest above the frozen lake.

Five minutes in, my dad saw birds perched on the road ahead of us, and hit the brakes. We guessed they had to be something interesting. The first two, which turned out to be Mountain Chickadees, flew away as soon as I got out of the car, but the third, a bigger passerine with a heftier beak stayed and allowed us good looks—it was a Pine Grosbeak! In the past week we had ticked off countless nemesis birds (including a Merlin in downtown Missoula on the 3^rd) and this bird proved no exception!

We arrived at Discovery, where no line awaited us, and proceeded to tackle the slopes. The fact that we lived in Montana did not mean we excelled at skiing, so we mostly stuck to the green circle (easy) and blue square (intermediate) runs, though Eli, Tessa and I did try out a very short black diamond (advanced).

At about one o’ clock, we scarfed down a quick lunch, then ran outside equipped with my camera, binoculars, lunch rolls and a bag of birdseed. Two years ago, we learned that the birds around the ski area took full nutritional advantage of their human visitors, and that the resident Mountain Chickadees actually had been trained to feed out of people’s hands! We cast bits of bread on the ground, then took turns holding birdseed out towards the stands of trees around the parking lot. Sure enough, the birds found us, and we each got to feel the tiny, reptilian-esque feet of the chickadees as they alighted on our fingers and snatched up sunflower seeds.

Nothing helps one understand the nature of “being bird” quite like having a Mountain Chickadee land on your fingertips!

Meanwhile, Gray Jays (now known as Canada Jays), Clark’s Nutcrackers and Steller’s Jays pounced on the rolls we purchased from the lodge, the braver ones landing within a meter of our feet. To top that off, we even discovered a big flock of Pine Grosbeaks flying around above us, the males’ robin-like songs weaving through the air.

Alas, this trip prioritized skiing over birding, so we had to leave the feeding fest behind. After racing down a few more runs, we packed up and drove home, with great photos and a new Life Bird under our belts, and more importantly, an unforgettable memory.

We tried to feed these guys some legitimate bird food, but the ski area corvids—including this Clark’s Nutcracker—had developed a fondness for Discovery’s baked goods.

Lucky Day at Maclay

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As we pulled out of the garage, my dad asked, “So, where to? Mt. Sentinel for rosy-finches? The Gravel Quarry?”

“How about we go look for the Great Gray Owl at Maclay Flat?” I asked.

“Well, okay, even though Maclay always disappoints me—it’s kind of empty.”

This was true—while we had spotted excellent birds at Maclay, including Barred, Great Gray and Northern Pygmy-Owls, it generally didn’t hold up in terms of overall species. For instance, on the day we saw the Barred Owl, we only logged about five species. Dog-walkers and cross-country skiers also loved Maclay, and the number of people might have affected bird numbers.

Fortunately, when we pulled up in the parking lot with our dog Lola, it seemed barren of people—maybe people had other things to do with their holiday break. A thin, fluffy layer of snow covered the ground and trees, and a few clouds dotted the sky. We pulled on our snow boots and layers, then trudged into the forest, our eyes open for large gray shapes watching us from the upper branches.

Our year lists sat within reach of our Montana year records, with my dad and I needing two and three, respectively. I hoped we could get Merlin and Golden-crowned Kinglet today, which would buff my dad’s list. Other birds that topped our Montana needs included Ruffed Grouse, Northern Goshawk (which we had unsuccessfully chased up Pattee Canyon a few days earlier), Gray-crowned Rosy-finches (which we could hopefully nab with a hike up the “M”), Gyrfalcon and Snow Bunting (grrrrrrr). A ski trip could also get my dad Gray Jay.

Right beyond the parking lot we encountered one of Maclay’s famous mixed flocks, containing three Black-capped Chickadees, two Mountain Chickadees, Red-breasted Nuthatches and a Brown Creeper, which was a nice surprise.

My dad and I bushwhacked through the trees and slid down ditches searching for the owl, or any owl. We investigated a stand of aspen near the edge of a huge field that had cavities that should have contained screech-owls, but to no avail. From a distance, though, we did spot a handsome adult Bald Eagle perched on a huge snag.

Suddenly, we spotted a raptor zip out of the trees, chasing a collared-dove. I tore off my mittens and set my camera on overexposed, then snapped as many photos as I could. We’d had a similar experience in this same field a few years ago, but the look had been too quick for identification. This time we were ready.

Our Lifer Northern Goshawk, heading home after an unsuccessful pursuit of a Collared Dove.

The bird sported a long tail and slim wings, and was fairly large—definitely a falcon or accipiter species. Remarkably, my photos showed a slate-gray body and a black eyeline. Northern Goshawk! We’d never seen this bird before, and it was one of our long-time nemesis birds. Finally, we’d gotten to see this rare raptor in action!

Seeing the goshawk definitely made up for not spotting the Great Gray. As we walked back to the car, we finished up the birding with another great mixed flock, including two Downy Woodpeckers. Happy New Year!

Owl Opportunity

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See Sneed read from his book Woodpeckers and Warblers at River Oaks Books in Houston, November 17 at 3 p.m. and at The Well-Read Moose in Coeur d’Alene (Idaho) on November 23 at 6 p.m.

On Thursday, November 8^th, my friend Eli and I were in the middle of a heated game of “Cup of Bluff” when my phone began going off. I saw that it was Nick and answered it.

“What’s going on?”

“Shh!” He was whispering.

“What?”

“I am at the Gravel Quarry standing, like, ten feet from a Saw-whet right now! Get your dad and get down here!”

He hung up and texted me his exact location. I raced upstairs and into my dad’s dark bedroom, abruptly waking him up from a nap. I told him the news. He yawned, and said, “Well, get your stuff! Let’s go!”

We rolled out of the house 10 minutes later, when Eli started his piano lesson with my mom. Nick was waiting for us at the Quarry, and as we pondered which routes would get us there the fastest, he sent us constant updates. According to him, it seemed like every bird at the Quarry was trying to make us miss the owl:

“A shrike just flew in and scared the owl, but it’s still in the same bush.”

“A mob of chickadees is trying to attack it! No!”

“Don’t let the Merlin distract you on the way in—go straight to the owl.”
This last thing was going to be particularly hard, as my dad still did not have Merlin for the year. Fortunately (and a little unfortunately), when we finally arrived, the Merlin was nowhere to be seen. We tiptoed down the hill into the forest section, and spotted Nick and his mom staring at a tree.

Though bored-looking, this Saw-whet was actually one of the most active owls we’ve ever seen!

“Look,” he said pointing straight into the tangle of branches, “See that puffball? That’s the bird.”

We looked right through and saw what Nick was calling the Northern Saw-whet Owl. It was looking away from us, but we could still sort of identify it. The view disappointed us, though, and my dad went around back of the tree to attempt some photos.

After about five minutes, the owl suddenly cocked its head and flew closer to my dad. We quietly joined him, and saw that the owl was now wide awake and perched in full sunlight.

“This is what he was doing when I first saw him,” whispered Nick.

“Look, there must be a mouse under there,” I said.

The Saw-whet’s eyes was intently following the rustle of leaves beneath him. Suddenly, he dove and retreated back to his previous spot within the bush. He hadn’t gotten the mouse, though, and eventually came back out into full view, his warm brown streaks and adorable golden eyes highlighted by the light of the sunset.

After about a half hour of photographing and staring at this new lifer, we left him alone.

The Gravel Quarry had scored again.

Northern Saw-whet Owl–another nemesis ticked off, and another great experience!