If it’s one thing we at FatherSonBirding hammer over and over again, it is the 3 Ps: Planning, Persistence, and Preparation.
Okay, actually, we have never talked much about this, but it’s a catchy concept, isn’t it? The 3 Ps, in fact, came very much into play recently when, after our rather disappointing birding in Boston, Braden and I headed up the coast to a place Braden had carefully researched (P Number 1) ahead of time: the Parker River National Wildlife Refuge.
One of the gems of the New England coast, Parker River NWR turned out to be our favorite birding spot of our week-long sojourn.
I had actually never heard of Parker River before, but Braden learned about it from some online birding buddies and checked it out to see if it was “visit-worthy”. His verdict? Definitely. Not only might we collect a handful of Life Birds there, the refuge protected one of his top ABA target birds: Saltmarsh Sparrow.
Now, I have to say that when we visit a National Wildlife Refuge, I generally expect a pretty low-key, rarely visited location. Imagine my surprise when we encountered a mini traffic jam waiting to get in. In fact, it became evident that the refuge served not only to protect wildlife, but as a critical outdoor outlet for congested coastal Massachusetts. Our visit started auspiciously with a stop at Lot 1, where we got a quick fly-over of a Baltimore Oriole—the only one we would see on our trip. Crossing the highway, we encountered an even cooler surprise: the closest looks we’d ever had of Semipalmated and Least Sandpipers! This was especially useful after the ID struggles we’d had with birds in eastern Washington only weeks before, and it really helped us examine the unique properties of each.
Having both Semipalmated (left) and Least Sandpipers right in front of us really helped Braden and me visually imprint these hard-to-ID species in our brains. Note especially the darker, browner overall appearance of the Least. Its yellow legs are a giveaway, too—but only when they aren’t covered in mud!
As we moved on, though, Braden felt pessimistic about seeing Saltmarsh Sparrows. He had Planned. He had Prepared himself with knowledge. But Boston had put an “unlucky” vibe in his head. As we made our second stop along the refuge’s main road, however, he suddenly shouted, “I see them!” Indeed, not thirty feet from us, at least four or five fairly nondescript little birds bumbled about in some tall marsh grass, seemingly not knowing what they were doing. “They seem like juveniles,” Braden surmised, and having studied this species quite a bit, he would know.
Saltmarsh Sparrows used to be lumped with Nelson’s Sparrows as one species, the Sharp-tailed Sparrow. As its own species, however, the Saltmarsh Sparrow occupies a narrow range of saltmarsh habitat along the East Coast and, in fact, requires this habitat for nesting. Because of this, it is at extreme risk from higher sea levels caused by climate change, and its population has been steadily declining. This makes protecting places like Parker River NWR even more important—and made us feel especially privileged to have such a close experience with them.
Our amazing experience with Saltmarsh Sparrows proved once again that persistence just may be the most important attribute of a successful birder.
Leaving the Saltmarsh Sparrows, we continued to hit other places in the refuge and were rewarded with a host of Year Birds, and two more Life Birds: Purple Finch and Great Crested Flycatcher—our number one ABA need to that point. Which all demonstrates the third P of birding: Persistence. Sure, luck plays a role, but just getting out there again and again will eventually take luck out of the equation, something we learned for the thousandth time at Parker River.
As some of you may have surmised, the recent spate of cooler, rainy weather put an end to my “Truck Birding” goal of 100 species, but I don’t hold a grudge. In fact, I have conjured up a new goal to replace it—breaking my all-time ABA Big Year Record of 336 species. More on that later.
In bigger news, I recently took Braden back to Orono, Maine to begin his college career at the University of Maine. As you can imagine, it was an emotional experience, but a good one. Because of COVID, we had not even had a chance to visit the campus so we decided to go a week early to explore the area, get him settled—and of course—bird our butts off. First up? A three-night stay in Boston to catch a Red Sox game (they won 6-0!) and see what kind of birding blessed Beantown.
We did not see a single bird during the Red Sox’s decisive victory over the Texas Rangers, but did get an up-close view of a home run by Xander Bogaerts as it sailed over the Green Monster. (Note: let’s see if MLB or the Sox forces me to take down this image. They are notorious about controlling baseball images.)
Our plans were stymied by heavy rain our first morning, so we tested ourselves against the stuffed bird specimens at the Boston Science Museum and managed to pick up Double-crested Cormorant, Herring Gull, and Great Black-backed Gull out the rain-drenched window on the Charles River. Afterward, we walked to Boston Common, hoping to find some great city birds. We were sadly disappointed. The problem? The world-famous downtown park has almost no understory layer—no bushes, hedges, and shrubs to offer cover to songbirds. As a result, Common Grackles, Canada Geese, starlings and other “trash birds” dominate. A progressive city such as Boston should fix this situation right away, don’t you think? With a lot of searching, we did manage to spot two Eastern Phoebes and coax in a couple of Black-capped Chickadees, but ended with only nine species, a dismal showing.
Our next morning also began badly. Thanks to our loyal FatherSonBirding reader, Roger Kohn, we bee-lined to Belle Isle Marsh, and were immediately driven back into the car by bloodthirsty waves of mosquitoes, forcing us to seek out a nearby drugstore for insect repellent. Upon our return, we still lost several pints of blood, but were able to chalk up 27 species. Alas, we missed our main target bird, Saltmarsh Sparrow, and saw nothing else to write home about. Feeling a little blue, we headed to our next destination, Deer Island.
Being an energy nut, I was interested in the how the giant sludge digesters (and windmills, only partly visible) at Deer Island produce energy for the rest of the plant. You can also see the bits of prairie habitat next to them above.
Deer Island is home to a fascinating wastewater treatment plant that serves 43 cities in the Boston area, and its giant egg-shaped sludge digesters have become famous and intriguing landmarks. We decided to embark on a three-mile circumnavigation of the treatment plant, especially hoping to glimpse some pelagic birds in the surrounding waters. We saw none, and not too much else very interesting for most of the walk. We did console ourselves by learning the differences between juvenile Herring and Black-backed Gulls, and Braden found me some Lifer Common Eiders floating offshore, but one of the most interesting things was that some great prairie habitat exists along the trail and we saw mating Monarch Butterflies and individual Black Swallowtails on our hike.
Having heard grim reports of Monarch Butterfly declines across the U.S., we were glad to find at least one or two individuals in almost every location we visited—including in the shadows of the Deer Island Wastewater Treatment Plant!
Finally, close to the end of our walk, two terrific birds showed themselves. One is a bird we especially hoped to see: our first ABA American Oystercatcher. We had seen one in the Galapagos in 2017, but never on U.S. shores! As we rounded a bend near a rock jetty, though, we were scanning dozens of Double-crested Cormorants when I caught the distinctive red-and-white flash of an AMOY. Even better, it soon flew over to forage on the pebbly beach below us!
This American Oystercatcher—the first we’d ever seen in the U.S.—garnered Boston Bird of the Day honors!
After enjoying the oystercatcher for a full ten minutes, we had just resumed walking when a large dark bird flashed by like an F-18. “Peregrine Falcon!” Braden shouted. We couldn’t believe it. We had hoped to see one there, but didn’t think it was possible. It provided a great testament to the value of conservation efforts and why we need to keep protecting nature. It also happened to be great timing to head to Belle Isle Seafood for lunch!
As you, our loyal readers, know, I (Sneed) have set a 100-species challenge for myself while undertaking my new temporary job driving truck for the Missoula Fire Cache (which vehemently regrets all association with me and will deny knowing me in any way if asked). As you’ll recall, 100 species may not sound like a lot, but in August—arguably one of the year’s worst birding months—and given the limitations of where I can go, it’s actually quite a lofty ambition pour moi. After all, my birding must be limited to what I can see while driving or during quick rest breaks just off my routes. As of two weeks ago (see Birding by 5-Ton Truck: a 100-Bird Quest), I had reached 59 species, but had picked off most of my easy targets and was desperately in need of large numbers of “watery” birds if I even dreamed of getting close to 100. It didn’t seem likely, but Lo! I have recently happened into some luck!
One happy circumstance is that I have been sent to several locations that take me by Warm Springs, one of Montana’s most famous birding locales. I can’t explore much of it during a quick break, but one nice pond sits just off the interstate offramp and I’ve been checking it out. The pond has yielded consistent Wilson’s Phalaropes, but also a few nice ducks such as Wood Ducks and Common Goldeneyes. On my last trip, though, I decided to forgo Warm Springs and instead try Racetrack Pond just up the road. The place often doesn’t yield a lot of birds, but at the far, northern end I pulled over and was delighted to find some suspicious wading birds—Greater Yellowlegs! Yeah! Then, a Black-necked Stilt flew in! Searching harder, I found more than twenty of this unreported species. Shorebird season has begun!
I was totally delighted to find not only Greater Yellowlegs, but Black-necked Stilts at this seldom-birded pond near Warm Springs.
This week, I ran a delivery to the Wenatchee (Washington) fire cache. Having scoured eBird ahead of time for possible quick bird stops, I pulled over at a place called Reardan Ponds north of Spokane. I quickly added Eared Grebes and American Coots to my 100-bird list, but was a bit underwhelmed by other birds. On a whim, I crossed the road to discover a little mudflat—and even better, some kind of shorebird in it! Unfortunately, it quickly scooted into the reeds before I could identify it. Argh!
Patience can pay off, as this great look at a Solitary Sandpiper proved.
I decided to give it five minutes, and to my delight a Solitary Sandpiper suddenly appeared in front of me—perhaps the best look ever I’ve had of these awesome birds. “But that’s not what I saw earlier, was it?” I asked myself. Then, I spotted not one, but two, small birds in the “peeps” category—small sandpipers of several different varieties. Peeps are very hard to ID, but these two gave me a nice long look, and even more important, some good photos. Later that night, I determined that they were Semipalmated Sandpipers! Not only a GREAT bird for my list, but a Year Bird to boot! However, still not sure of my ID, I posted a photo to the Montana Bird Discussioin Group and talked it over with Braden. Turns out, they weren’t Semis at all, but Least Sandpipers, with mud on their legs covering up their diagnostic yellow colors. I tell you, those peeps are tough, but I was still delighted with the discovery—and learned a lot to boot! UPDATE: So, this still isn’t 100% resolved. Another highly-respected MT birder makes some good points that the birds below are Semis after all! What do YOU think?
Peeps are notoriously difficult to ID, but thanks to some decent photos and help from other birders, I eventually determined that these were Least Sandpipers—or maybe not! Other experts are weighing in that my original ID of Semipalmated Sandpipers may be correct after all!
As a bonus, the next day, returning to Missoula, I added several new songbirds—a category I’d about given up on for my goal. At a little park in St. Regis, I not only got Cordilleran Flycatcher, but Red Crossbills, and a Red-eyed Vireo, a bird I hadn’t dared hope for. So where does that leave me? Well, as of today, I have reached exactly 80, count ‘em, EIGHTY species! Will I make it to 100? It’s still going to be tough. Not only am I running out of likely birds, I won’t be able to drive for the next couple of weeks, and the season may be over when I get back. Never fear, though, I will let you, our loyal readers, know of any further success! Keep on birding!
Red-eyed Vireos have become one of our favorite songbirds, but seeing one takes some persistence and, it seems, the presence of cottonwood trees.
Having missed out on Braden’s epic Glacier birding day because of, you won’t believe this, a job, I have struggled for ways to console myself. Fortunately, birding opportunities are dove-tailing nicely with my new temporary career: delivering fire-fighting equipment by truck to various fire camps around Montana and Idaho. As you’ve probably noticed, it is shaping up to be an unprecedented fire season with record, early heat and little rain in sight. Just another reason that we need to make climate change our number one priority as a species (see Saving Birds. It’s Time.).
On the personal front, however, this radical summer has provided me with an interesting, useful part-time job driving for the Forest Service, and I have to say, I’ve been impressed with their entire operation. As I began my job, though, I asked myself, “How many birds could I see just driving around Montana and Idaho through the fire season?” I decided to set a goal of 100 species for myself—a number that seemed optimistic for this time of year, especially since I would have few opportunities to venture off roads into wildlife refuges and other birding hotspots. Below is my interim report, but first I should lay out the ground rules that I have set for myself, and they are simple: every bird can be counted from the moment I leave for work until I get back. I can’t count birds at my house or on my street, but everything else is game. So how goes the quest?
Who knew I’d be drivin’ truck at my age, but as in most of my life, trying new things has led to new birding—and writing—opportunities!
Well, so far I have driven approximately 3,000 miles and seen 59 species of birds, or about one new species every 51 miles—far more than I expected at this point. Let’s start with raptors. These are birds I expected to do well with because, duh, they are big and easy to see, and they sit on telephone poles. Strangely, I have seen only one Bald Eagle since I began and no Goldens, but have been delighted with Red-tailed Hawks, Swainson’s Hawks, Northern Harriers, Osprey, and a Prairie Falcon. My best raptor? A Ferruginous Hawk that I passed three separate times on my way to Ennis before I could positively ID it at 70 mph!
I had to drive by it three separate days before I could ID a Ferruginous Hawk near Ennis (actual bird not shown), but it was a major score in my “birding by truck” goals to find one of these.
Songbirds promised to be the most difficult category because they are almost impossible to ID at high speed—and often at low speed! Still, I’ve lucked out with birds such as American Redstart and Evening Grosbeak around the ranger station in Seeley Lake, and good looks at Western Tanagers, catbirds, and other species along river roads. While my truck was being emptied down at the Goose Fire south of Ennis, I walked over to “pish” (make a fake bird sound, not doing, well, you know) some bushes and was flabbergasted to see a Lincoln’s Sparrow pop up in front of me—maybe my favorite “truck bird” so far.
Without a doubt my favorite sparrow, Lincoln’s Sparrow made my “birding by truck” list in surprising fashion while I was delivering a load to the Goose Fire crew south of Ennis.(Again, actual bird not shown—it’s hard to get bird photos while working another job!)
On my way back from the Dixie Fire camp in Idaho, I found myself at dusk crossing over Lolo Pass and needed a break, so I pulled into the visitor’s center to see if I could hear a Flammulated Owl. No luck, but White-crowned Sparrows and Swainson’s Thrushes called in the twilight, and suddenly I heard a deep sub-woofer sound. “My god,” I thought. “That’s a Ruffed Grouse!” It wasn’t. Later, after consulting with Braden, I realized I’d heard, appropriately for twilight, a Dusky Grouse. I hadn’t even known they made a similar deep-bass call. It pays to have a well-educated son!
Hearing a Dusky Grouse at, well, dusk at Lolo Pass taught me an important new bird call—and made an unlikely addition to my “truck list.”
The question remains: will I make it to 100? It’s going to take some doing, and I especially need to get into some large groups of waterfowl or migrating shorebirds or songbirds, but I remain hopefully optimistic. Stay tuned for the next installment! And yes, I would sacrifice my goal for a good, soaking rain!
(by Braden) By the time our posse of eleven reached Logan Pass at 6 in the morning, the parking lot was already full, though that did not hamper the views. Nick Ramsey and I rushed over to the bathrooms, admiring a view we had not experienced for years (despite having been to the lower-altitude parts of Glacier Park every year since 2017) and nabbing Cassin’s Finch and White-crowned Sparrow, then hopped back into Joshua Wade Covill’s car and headed for the Piegan Pass trailhead.
Nick and I had arrived at Josh’s house in Columbia Falls late the night before after a helping of early-summer shorebirds south of Kalispell and were greeted by not only Josh, one of Montana’s birding mammoths, but also by an assortment of the country’s top birders: Tom Forwood Jr., a southern Montana-based birder well-known for the Big Day records he had set across Montana (some of which had been with Josh) and working at Lewis and Clark Caverns State Park; Marky Mutchler, a recent graduate of Louisiana State University who had been the ABA young birder of the year a few years back and whose six-out-of-five star photos decorated every part of eBird’s website; four field techs currently studying nesting birds like Lazuli Buntings and Spotted Towhees on MPG Ranch, and two more birders, who along with Marky, currently spent their time researching grassland birds like Long-billed Curlews and Sprague’s Pipits out on the American Prairie Reserve. Several of the people I had already met through Facebook, while I was excited to meet others for the first time. I knew I was in the presence of greatness the minute I stepped out of the mini-van and onto Josh’s lawn, where I pitched my tent.
We were all here for one reason: to see Glacier National Park and its birds under the guidance of Josh, who knew the park like a Black Swift knows the underside of a waterfall, and who had, in fact, just started a Glacier-based guiding company! While several of us had been here before, others (including many of the field techs) had never seen this part of the country before, and we were prepared to assist in blowing their minds.
We woke up on Saturday morning at 5, getting into the park before the ticket period started, and were up and over Logan Pass by 6. A MacGillivray’s Warbler sang downslope of us as we bug-sprayed up in the Piegan Pass trail parking lot, and then set off into the forest of Engelmann Spruce and Subalpine Fir. Almost immediately Josh halted the group to point out several White-winged Crossbills singing from treetops, their complex trills a new sound for me. This habitat made much more sense than the cemetery in which I’d gotten my lifers earlier in the year.
My dad and I usually see Pine Grosbeaks at lower elevations during winter, so it was very special to see them at their breeding altitudes.
In a clearing several miles up the trail Josh called in a Varied Thrush for the photographers of the group (several people including Marky, had brought giant lenses) and a pair of Pine Grosbeaks, not wanting to be left out, had decided to forage in the grass and shrubs at eye-level about ten feet from us.
As we hiked, I learned about the individual research projects that each of the field techs were looking at on the APR, which included Long-billed Curlew migration patterns and parasitism on grassland birds by Brown-headed Cowbirds. We talked about top birding spots everywhere from New Mexico to Missouri and exchanged stories about how everyone had gotten into birds. It was particularly fun visiting with Tom and Josh, as they seemingly had an answer to everything I wondered about along the trail. Tom didn’t just know the birds—he identified every flower and butterfly we came across, and he and Josh pointed out the glaciers and peaks around us as we rose in altitude, many of which they had individually hiked to. They also had a wealth of knowledge of birding Latin America, specifically Costa Rica, something I was incredibly interested in.
After about three miles we rose above the stunted forest marking the end of the subalpine zone and were hiking along scree fields and across lingering snow patches. A Golden Eagle soaring high above welcomed us to the alpine zone as pikas mewed at us from their rocky burrows, and the bird community changed abruptly. Rather than crossbills and grosbeaks, Gray-crowned Rosy-finches filled the finch role up here, and all of us were shocked to encounter a Brewer’s Sparrow belting out a song from a patch of young trees! A rare subspecies of Brewer’s Sparrow, known as the Timberline Sparrow, lived above the tree line in Glacier Park and in mountain ranges farther north, a rather strange change from the normal sagebrush habitat the species used elsewhere in its range. No one in the group had ever seen one before, including Tom and Josh, which meant that everyone had gotten at least one new bird out of the hike!
This surprise Timberline Sparrow (a subspecies of Brewer’s Sparrow) was a Lifer for our entire group!
Speaking of new birds, I was here for my Montana life bird #299: White-tailed Ptarmigan. These cryptic, high-altitude game birds only lived in the northwest part of the state, and only in Glacier were they easily-accessible. As we reached Piegan Pass, Josh pointed out a large snowfield. We would be walking around the base of the field after a quick lunch, as it was perfect ptarmigan habitat: it turns out that most alpine habitat was unsuitable for ptarmigan. These picky birds require access to water, shade (i.e. low cliffs) to hide from the sun, and vegetation (i.e. moss) for food. If a site does not have one of these three things, it’s unlikely to contain ptarmigan.
After a lunch full of various mammals from Least Chipmunks to Hoary Marmots trying to steal our food, we set off in a large search line to try to find ptarmigan as an American Pipit displayed in the air high above us, an activity shared with the Sprague’s Pipits my dad and I had found earlier this year. After about fifteen minutes, Skyler Bol, one of the MPG Ranch field techs, yelled, “Got one!”. We all maneuvered across the rocks over to where he stood, and sure enough, there sat a surprisingly small game bird, half-white and half-brown, curiously staring up at us.
It had taken me more than seven years for me to finally see a White-tailed Ptarmigan, but I couldn’t have asked for a better experience—or company—in finding my 299th Montana bird species!
Everyone whipped out their cameras and settled around the fairly unconcerned bird, and soon Skyler spotted another one sitting on a small waterfall nearby! We basked in the ptarmigan glory for at least an hour, then wished the small birds good luck and cold temperatures, and headed back down the trail.
Once we were firmly in the subalpine forest again, we began stopping periodically and playing for Boreal Chickadee. It was great habitat for them, and several members of the group had never seen them before. You might call it “pushing our luck”, but hey, it worked! About two miles from the parking lot after hearing a Mountain Chickadee and several Canada Jays impersonating Yellow-throated Toucans, Josh decided to play for them and a pair of Boreal Chickadees showed up! I had not expected to see them again this year after nabbing my lifer in May and it was great to watch them from a distance as other people took photos of their very first of these boreal birds.
Though our goal was to see White-tailed Ptarmigan, the day facilitated several epic QUACHs as well!
After spying a trio of Golden Eagles again at the parking lot, we headed back to Josh’s house, stopping briefly for a Chestnut-backed Chickadee (there would be several QUACHs completed today) at Avalanche Campground. I had to head home but many of the others stayed another day, and I would soon hear stories of Black Swift, Spruce Grouse and American Three-toed Woodpecker.
As we left the Piegan Pass trailhead, Josh mentioned that he thought it had been his best day of birding in the park, and I would have to agree. And not just because of the great and cooperative birds we saw—because of the people. I had learned so much from everyone as we hiked, and had really gotten to experience what the community I would soon be immersed in would be like. Everyone was so knowledgeable, yet humble and kind, and I was honored to be a part of the first annual “Camp Montana”, even if it was only for a day.
However, seeing the ptarmigan was also a bit sad—who knew how long these alpine birds would be here? With temperatures already breaking record highs within the park, the birds living at the tops of mountains barely had anywhere to go, and snow was disappearing fast. I am very fortunate that I got to experience the birds while they are still here, and hope that somehow, they can adapt to whatever climate change throws at them.
Ptarmigan are a poster bird for how climate change is negatively impacting our planet. As permanent snow fields disappear, habitat for these birds is rapidly shrinking—a call to action to drastically and rapidly reduce the CO2 emissions we as humans produce.
Another problem was posed by seeing the ptarmigan: What will my 300th Montana bird be? Now that I’d nabbed #299, I had no choice but to get to 300, but my options were few and far between, and my days in the state are running out…stay tuned to see what it will be! (I don’t have it yet).
