Category Archives: Birding

My Big Silly January

Setting and surpassing goals plays a big role for many of us birders. Big Years, Big Months, Big Days, State Big Years, Bicycle Big Days, Global Big Days—the list of ways we challenge ourselves are endless. And while I’m no longer a big fan of Big Years that require burning up a ton of fossil fuels, Braden and I still partake in local challenges, or those that unfold seemingly on their own. Such was the situation I found myself in late January.

Thanks mainly to a vigorous day of birding with Braden on January 2^nd, in which I found 47 species here in western Montana, and the surprise trip to Victoria that Amy planned for my 65^th birthday (38 more species), by January 20th I found that I had seen 88 bird species for the month. They were awesome birds, too, ranging from Short-eared Owls and Golden Eagles here in Montana to Pacific Loons, Harlequin Ducks, and a Marbled Murrelet in Canada (click here). Interestingly, I realized that with ten days to go, I needed to see only four more species to make this my best January of birding ever! Even so, I had a lot of writing to catch up on and I wasn’t sure that I wanted to intentionally make the effort. A couple of things convinced me to go for it.

**Lola played an instrumental role in advancing my Big January goals!**

The first was that while walking our dog Lola in the neighborhood, I found my first Northern Pygmy-Owl of the year—a delightful little guy soaking up the last rays of sun high in a Ponderosa Pine. The next day—also while walking Lola, through Greenough Park—I espied my first American Dippers of the year. Three days after that, the year’s first White-breasted Nuthatch visited our backyard feeder, the first I’d seen there in a couple of years. Suddenly, just like that, I was one bird away from breaking my record. What, oh what, to do? Too much sittin’ on my butt and a forecast for a beautiful winter day answered the question. I called our friend Susan, who has been getting into birding more and more the past couple of years. I told her, “You know, there’s a Rusty Blackbird over near Deer Lodge, and we may be able to find some Snow Buntings. Do you want to go see if we can find them?” She also needed a birding break, so the next morning, we headed east.

**Though we didn’t find Snow Buntings or the Rusty Blackbird, Susan was especially excited to get to know Rough-legged Hawks better.**

We spent a delightful morning driving the roads between Deer Lodge and Anaconda. We may have seen a Snow Bunting, but it flew away before we could make a definite ID. We also saw the Rusty Blackbird—right as a couple of other birders scared it away. Since we couldn’t ID it ourselves, we didn’t put it on the list, either. Fortunately, in the parking lot that led to the Rusty Blackbird, we found four Horned Larks! Yay! I had it! A new January record!

**Susan and I failed to get an ID-able look at a rare Rusty Blackbird. But note the famous Anaconda smelter stack in the distance!**

But here’s the problem. Once you break one record, and realize that you are perilously close to another landmark—in this case, 100 birds for the month—it’s virtually impossible not to go for it. By now, I had revealed my January ambitions to Susan, and not only did she get as excited as I did about them, she was all in on getting me to 100 species for the month. As we pulled away from the Horned Larks, I said, “Are you up for driving by Discovery Ski Area on the way home?” “Let’s do it.”

**Employees at Discovery kindly put out bird feeders that keep Pine Grosbeaks, Mountain Chickadees, and other higher-altitude birds nurtured during cold winter days.**

Loyal readers of FatherSonBirding will recognize that in years past, Discovery Ski Area has been a go-to place for Braden and me to pick up several challenging species, and as Susan and I approached the parking area, we saw our first of these: Canada Jay. After parking, we visited the bird feeders and had a fun time picking up two others: Mountain Chickadee and Pine Grosbeak. Clark’s Nutcracker was the only bird that didn’t cooperate with my 100-species plans, but still, I left the ski area with 96 species. Could I really get four more species before the month ran out? Did I want to? No, I decided. I didn’t need to drive around burning up gas just trying to break a silly record. However, the Universe seemed to have other plans.

**Portrait of a Canada Jay. See them while you can. Canada has announced that it will no longer allow these birds to be in the US if President Trump does indeed impose tariffs on our northern neighbor.**

The afternoon of January 29^th, I was again walking Lola in the neighborhood when I saw two more birds I needed for the month and year: Hairy Woodpecker and Cedar Waxwing, both of which I thought I’d already seen! Then, a Greater White-fronted Goose was sighted out beyond the Missoula Airport. I had never seen one of these birds in Montana, and it was a rare opportunity to do so, so on January 31^st, I loaded my spotting scope and camera into the car and headed out to the site. My January and Year lists now stood at 98 species.

Long-story short: I did not find the Greater White-fronted Goose among the Canada Geese that were out there. As I was watching other CAGOs fly in, however, I was stunned to see a white goose flying with them! Stupidly, I did not try to gauge the size of this surprising arrival. If it were a bit larger it would be a Snow Goose; a bit smaller, Ross’s Goose. Either one would get me to 99 species—but not if I couldn’t identify it! Sighing and simply putting down “white goose” on my list, I resigned myself to not breaking that magical 100 number.

Since I was out there, however, I decided to swing by Council Grove State Park for a look around. The number of birds out there in the dead of winter surprised me. I was delighted to hear a Belted Kingfisher and spot Green-winged Teals and a Great Blue Heron. Then, two Killdeer flew by. As I was following a trail back around to the parking lot, however, I espied a small, soft lump on a branch out of the corner of my eye. “No way,” I muttered, and trained my new binoculars on it. It was another Northern Pygmy-Owl—the first I’d ever found all on my own. Even though it wouldn’t help with my goal of 100 birds, I was totally psyched by this find and spent ten minutes watching it before it winged away at hyper-speed.

**Even though it didn’t help me with my 100-bird goal, seeing this Northern Pygmy-Owl was an awesome way to finish out an awesome January of birding.**

So, no 100 birds. No century mark.

Or so I thought.

That evening, when I happened to glance at my bird list for the month, I was surprised to see that it stood not at 98 species as I expected, but at 99! The Killdeer I saw at Council Grove, it turned out, were also a new species for me for 2025! And then, several other birders confirmed that the white goose that I saw was indeed a Snow Goose! Ka-ching!

I’ll admit that getting to 100 wasn’t pretty, but like I said, the Universe seemed to want me to get there and, well, I’ll take it. It just shows you that a lot of great things can happen in birding—even setting silly records!

Partial FSB Reveal: We won’t be posting near the end of February and early March, but if all goes as planned, we should have some truly stunning posts for you then. Stay tuned!

Morro Bay Bird Festival report (Guest Post by Scott Callow)

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This week we are delighted to present our first guest post from Scott Callow. Scott and I (Sneed) met in the fourth grade, endured Boy Scouts together, and have spent hundreds of hours in the outdoors together. Scott majored in environmental studies and is one of the first people ever to take me birding, at Coal Oil Point in Santa Barbara. We have refreshed our friendship many times, including with several memorable recent birding adventures (see our posts “Chasing Migrants, Part I: Swifts, Peeps, and Plovers” and “Abbotts Lagoon, Point Reyes National Seashore”). We are also fortunate to have photos by Scott and his buddy Steve Rosso (the bird photos) to share. If you are enjoying FatherSonBirding, why not subscribe by filling out the “Subscribe Now” box down in the right-hand column?

(All photos copyright Steve Rosso or Scott Callow.)

My former work colleague, Steve, and I spent 2 hours deciding which walks and talks we would do at our first winter Morro Bay Bird Festival. It was just over a week since the registration opened. Everything we chose turned out to be full, even with over 263 events, 191 of them field trips. Lesson learned. (We later learned that the Pelagic Boat Trip filled within an hour.) We were able to sign up for two outings, a Big Day at the inland Santa Margarita Lake and a “Back of the Bay” walk in Los Osos. Steve also made the wise demand to stop at the Pinnacles National Monument on our way down, and convinced me to spend the extra money ($55) on a boating tour of Morro Bay itself. (Readers are encouraged to open up a map of the region.)

**On our trip down, we got good looks at a well-known California endemic, Yellow-billed Magpie (see post “College Search Birding in California”).**

Our first stop was along the lonely Highway 25 between Hollister and Pinnacles’ east entrance. We badly wanted one soaring raptor to be a California Condor but it turned out to be a Golden Eagle. Later (2-3pm), at the observation overlook a mile up the Condor Gulch Trail, more than 15 dark soaring birds suddenly appeared as a group from behind the eroded sandstone Hain’s Peak. I confidently identified four as Condors, one as a Golden Eagle (clearly seeing the difference between each’s white markings on the undersides), and many Turkey Vultures. Steve’s new camera clicked away. At the trailhead, a ranger told us that, years ago, the population was below 10 individuals when reintroduction began and now the local population had swelled to “three digits.”

**Pinnacles National Park. And yes, at least some of those black specks are California Condors!**

The next morning we embarked on our first festival field trip: a Big Day at Santa Margarita Lake. It was led by Mark Holmgren, retired curator of the natural history museum and collection at UC Santa Barbara (my alma mater and where Sneed got his master’s degree). Highlights included comparing Eared, Horned, Western, Clark’s and Pied-billed Grebes, listening to Fox’s Sparrows, California Thrashers, and Wrentits, and observing raptor behavior. Speaking of, we saw Ospreys and Bald Eagles fishing (one birder theorized the adult eagles were teaching the juvenile), two Peregrine falcons mobbing a raven, and two Peregrines (perhaps the same) apparently fighting over food in mid-air or in courtship display. I got good looks at the yellow lores of a White-throated Sparrow.

Winter is a nice time to compare Clark’s (shown here) and Western Grebes, which can sometimes be difficult to tell apart. Clark’s Grebes have more orangish bills versus greenish-yellowish on Westerns. The black also rises above the eye on Clark’s, though that’s not as clear-cut on this individual.

Tired from our long day, we drove to the Morro Bay Community Center downtown and attended one of the two receptions. Included in the cost of registration were free local wines (multiple pours allowed), and extensive noshing trays of cheese, meats, veggies, crackers, and artisan chocolates. The adjacent bazaar impressed with booths for 3-4 high-end binocular/gear manufacturers, book shops, authors, nature art and nature organizations. The bazaar was well attended and the noise generated rivaled that of a Spring morning chorus.

**The bird fest’s exhibit area had a nice variety of vendors and non-profits to occupy us between birding trips, talks, and meals.**

Our dinner at Morro Bay’s affordable, healthy and creative Asian fusion cafe, Chowa Bowl is recommended, as is the lunch combo Big Deal of sushi roll and ramen noodles at Baywood-Los Osos’ funky hangout, Kuma. This is important info to a birder even though food and beverages are barely mentioned in The Avian Survival Kit chapter of Birding for Boomers. Good food and libations can elevate a birding trip. (Editor’s Note: We at FSB take exception to this criticism, as we have frequently mentioned fine dining establishments such as McDonald’s, Wendy’s, and Starbucks.)

Next day’s Back of the Bay trip was not only highlighted by lunch, but by Audubon’s Sweet Springs Nature Preserve. It’s a small preserve with a spring-fed creek and excellent views from its wooden observation decks of the bay’s mudflats and its shorebirds, ducks, gulls, and terns—tons of them (which is saying a lot since birds are so light.) With Morro Rock and Morro Dunes in the background, we saw Lesser and Western Sandpipers, too many Brants to count, 30+ Green-winged Teals, 4 Blue-winged Teals, American Wigeon, Northern Shoveler, Bufflehead, Long-billed Curlew, Killdeer, Black-bellied Plover, Great Egret, and Greater Yellowlegs. We learned the Greater has three notes in its call compared to the two notes of the Lesser. Ring-billed Gulls, Belted Kingfishers, and Forster’s Terns were seen flying above the bay.

These are the ducks that inspired The Guess Who’s 1970 Number One single “American Wigeon”. Fun Fact: Sneed saw The Guess Who’s lead singer, Burton Cummings, perform this song live in Rapid City, South Dakota in 1977. **Sneed was favorably impressed by this performance—until ZZ Top took the stage and basically burned the place down.**

In the narrow woodland area between street and bay we saw both Hairy and Nuttall’s Woodpeckers, and Chestnut-backed Chickadee. Then, local guide Dean led our car caravan down the road apiece to his friend’s house which sported about six bird feeders that earned a hot spot ranking on eBird. More chickadees, the ubiquitous House Finch, the most common local warblers—Yellow-rumped, Orange-crowned, Townsend’s—and Lincoln’s, Golden-crowned and White-crowned Sparrows. We also saw our Oak Titmouse, formerly lumped with Plain Titmouse, at the bird feeders. Its range is mostly endemic to California (stretching into parts of Oregon and Mexico) and the bird shares its place with the Acorn Woodpecker as a signature species in California’s oak woodlands.

Dean also shared his mnemonic for our (Pacific Group) White-crowned Sparrow – “Awf man!, I dough-ont wanna see”. It’s a bit of a stretch but “I don’t want to see” sums up many people’s self-engineered denials of science nowadays, so I decided to add it to my mnemonic checklist.

The rarity highlight of the trip was the sole Blue-winged/Cinnamon Teal hybrid. I “put good eyes on it” but Steve left his camera in the car because he logically thought he’d get better shorebird and bay bird shots on the following day’s boating trip.

Female, juvenile, and nonbreeding Red-breasted Mergansers (above) can be difficult to distinguish from Common Mergansers, especially in winter, when they can be swimming side by side. We think this is a Red-breasted because of its a) slightly thinner, upturned bill b) indistinct transition between the brown and gray on its neck and c) its crazier “hair-do”.

Our inside-the-bay boat trip the next day also included a fellow (and local) birder, Mike, who led bird trips. Steve and I learned a lot from him. The trip was created as a photography outing and the leader focused on pointing out good shots. The captain, also a birder, put the boat in good lighting and locations for the photographers. We were inspired to overtip him. The trip started in a downtown marina and we made a loop up to Morro Rock, along the rock jetties past the bay’s opening to the ocean, and then back into the bay to the mudflats of the Morro Bay Estuary. As we returned back to the docks, we passed the Morro Bay State Park Boardwalk, the Museum of Natural History, the Morro Bay Water Access, and Heron Rookery Natural Preserve—all excellent spots to bird from the shore, and perfect for photographers from the water due to the sun’s location.

We saw Peregrine Falcons above The Rock, Black Oystercatchers and Black Turnstones on the rocks, Black-crowned Night Herons in the trees, Ospreys on the masts, Common and Red-breasted Mergansers, several Eared Grebes and a Horned for comparison, and a nice collection of Brandt’s, Pelagic, and Double-crested Cormorants floating on a wooden raft. The Brandt’s Cormorants were especially striking with their iridescent coats and bright blue throat pouches. We were surprised to see some of the adults sporting very early breeding plumage marked by brilliant white “whisker” feathers around the ears and shoulders.

Cormorants put on a show under the gaze of their Western Gull overlord. Note the brilliant blue gular pouches on the Brandt’s Cormorants, along with their wispy white breeding feathers on the necks. A Double-crested with yellow markings skulks in the background.

Further inside the bay near the mudflats we saw large numbers, reaching into the hundreds, of Double-crested Cormorants, Marbled Godwits, and other shorebirds too far away to ID, plus good showings of White Pelicans, Ospreys, Ring-billed and Western Gulls, Northern Pintails, Buffleheads and Long-billed Curlews, Willets, and Greater Yellowlegs, as well as other common shorebirds not listed. Mike told us that the Pelagic Boat Trip ($160) was fantastic. If interested, check the bird list from the trip on the festival’s website.

**Our “Inside of the Bay” boat trip featured a great variety of seabirds and shorebirds. Here, American White Pelicans earn extra style points.**

The last night’s keynote speaker was Kenn Kaufman, author of Kingbird Highway, multiple nature guides, and his new The Birds that Audubon Missed: Discovery and Desire in the American Wilderness. He extolled birders to persist in their nature explorations, even beyond birds, and to pause the inclination to aggressively list in order to truly observe. He described the Morro Bay region as a “globally important ecological area” and the all-volunteer festival as top-notch and well organized, ranking it among the highest of the many he has attended.

232 species were identified collectively during the 5-day festival in mid-January. Events included typical bird walks, birding by boat, bicycle and kayak, birding for youth, beginners and advanced birders, birding with wine and olive oil tastings. Sites extended beyond the Morro Bay area including the Kern National Wildlife Refuge, the Carrizo Plains Ecological Reserve, various ranches, Atascadero, San Luis Obispo, and Pismo Beach. Check out the Long Report of the Festival Events Including Details on the website. More details than you will need to convince you to make next year’s festival are found at morrobaybirdfestival.org.

**Scott (right) and Steve (left) while birding with Sneed in Marin County last fall. (I don’t know why Scott’s head looks a bit squished. I blame climate change, not my photographic skills.)**

The Gull Guide (Book Review)

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You may have noticed more references to gulls in our recent posts (see, for instance, “Birding Race Point” and “In Search of the Marbled Murrelet”). Or maybe not. Either way, Braden’s and my interest in gulls has been on the rise in recent years, and for good reason. Gulls are fascinating, beautiful, adaptable creatures worthy of attention. “So why didn’t you pay more attention to them before?” Roger, Scott, and some of our other loyal (and snarky) readers may ask. The reason is simple: gulls are hard. Many of the adults look similar, but if that isn’t perplexing enough, most gull species go through multiple molts which make them look radically different seasonally and from year to year—and frustratingly similar to other gulls in their various molts. The bottom line: to even approach competence identifying gulls, you have to devote a LOT of time to it, and finally, after about a decade of birding, Braden and I have felt ready to dip our toes into this task. Imagine our delight, then, to discover the release of a brand new book from Amar Ayyash, The Gull Guide: North America (Princeton University Press, 2024).

As soon as I heard about The Gull Guide, Amy and I bought a copy for Braden for Christmas. I quickly realized, however, that I wanted a copy of my own, so I contacted Princeton University Press and asked if they would like me to review the book. A week later, my own fresh copy arrived. Flipping through it, I recognized that I may have taken on more than I bargained for. The Gull Guide, I saw, is no mere specialized guide to a group of birds. It is a magnum opus—or in this case, a magnum gullpus—by one of the world’s foremost authorities on a subject. But let’s get to it . . .

First Impressions: attractive design; gorgeous photographic illustrations; logically and intuitively organized; comfortable to hold in your hands (really!).

My first casual flip through The Gull Guide conjured up a deep feeling that I was holding the Rosetta Stone to an important part of the birding universe. Upon the author’s suggestion, I started by reading the introduction and, I gotta say, this alone made the book worth buying. To wit, even though I knew that gulls seem to thrive in human-created places such as garbage dumps and parking lots, I had no idea just how successful and adaptable they are. To quote the author, “No gull species is known to have gone extinct for as long as modern taxonomy has kept records (Dee 2018). In many ways, they are similar to Homo sapiens: omnivores exploiting and consuming whatever they cross paths with.”

The first gull I looked up in *The Gull Guide* is one of Braden’s and my favorite species, Heermann’s Gulls. I learned that these handsome rascals are known for landing on the backs of Brown Pelicans—and stealing fish right out of their pouches! **They nest primarily on a single island in the Gulf of California.**

About fifty species of gulls inhabit the planet (fewer than I would have guessed), and The Gull Guide provides coverage of thirty-two that have a presence in North America. The author divides these into three categories:

Small Tern-like and Hooded Gulls

Gulls in the genus Larus

The Herring Gull complex (which is also made up of Larus species, but stands out for the difficulty in identifying and classifying them)

This last fall, I spent a lot of time looking at Glaucous-winged Gulls, part of the “Herring Gull complex”—a large group of beefy white-headed gulls. Adult Glaucous-wingeds can usually be ID’ed by the gray-and-white wing tips. However, this entire group of gulls is especially known to hybridize with each other, often making them notoriously difficult to identify.

If I had any hope that The Gull Guide would help me learn to easily identify all of these different species, the author quickly laid that fantasy to rest. “It is important to accept that identifying every gull 100 percent of the time is an impractical undertaking,” he states early in the book. “The sooner we come to terms with this, the sooner we’re able to enjoy gulls for what they are. Struggling with an identification should be looked at as an opportunity to grow and cultivate our craft.”

Yeah, sure. Easy for him to say! For my part, I was eager to start building my skills. I therefore proceeded to read the excellent chapters on gull body parts, molts, and overall identification features. Then, I swooped into chapters on individual species.

Loyal FSB readers will recall that we got our lifer Ivory Gull on Flathead Lake on Braden’s birthday in 2020. Hundreds of birders from Montana and several other states made the pilgrimage to see this rare Montana vagrant.

As you would expect, for each species the author provides a basic overview followed by detailed information on the bird’s range, identification, molts, and hybrids—an especially important discussion since gulls are famous for hybridizing with each other in ways that are often difficult, if not impossible, to figure out. Part of what makes the book so impressive, though, is the inclusion of up to dozens of color plates for each species. These show each bird in different molts as well as geographic variation within the species, and abundant examples of hybridization as well.

Although The Gull Guide is very useful for beginning birders, it is clearly written and designed to accommodate expert birders, including those who wish to make the study of gulls one of their primary birding pursuits. As someone in between those two extremes, I have been using the book to tease out some of the gull challenges I have myself encountered—distinguishing between hybrid Glaucous-winged Gulls and Herring Gulls, for instance, or Franklin’s versus Laughing Gulls.

While it’s a treat to catch Bonaparte’s Gulls as they move through Montana, Braden and I had a great chance to observe them on the East Coast this past fall. The distinct black “dot” behind the eye is a good way to ID these widespread gulls in non-breeding plumage. In breeding, it has a totally black head. It is the only gull to nest largely in trees.

I especially pored through the gulls we have here in Montana, beginning with our most common species, the Ring-billed Gull. Here, I noticed something that could use correction, or at least more explanation. Ring-billed Gulls can be readily found in many parts of Montana throughout the year, and yet the range map for the species shows them as “year-round” only in certain Great Lakes locations. Braden confirms they are also on the eastern seaboard throughout the year, and eBird bar charts also show them as present throughout the year in many other states. I’m sure the author knows this, so in the next edition, to avoid confusion, I’d like to see his reasoning or methodology for how the range map is created.

That aside, I am sure that The Gull Guide will become a dog-eared companion for both Braden and me as our expertise and interest in this fascinating group of birds continues to grow. This isn’t the first reference book a beginning birder will want to buy, but I highly recommend it for anyone expanding birdwatching beyond their backyard feeders, or for those intrigued by gulls and their fascinating biology.

Overall Rating (on a scale of cool birds): Ross’s Gull (highest)

You can order The Gull Guide from your local independent bookstore, Buteo Books, or directly from Princeton University Press. Please tell them we sent you!

In Search of the Marbled Murrelet (Birding Victoria, Part II)

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After three nights in Victoria (see last week’s post “Birding Victoria, BC”), Amy and I headed up the Vancouver Island coast toward a spot where we had spent our first nights together as married folk—a lovely establishment called the Point No Point Resort. On the way up, I bamboozled Amy into stopping at one of the most well-known birding hotspots in the area: Whiffin Spit Park. As its rather humorous name implies, the park is a narrow spit of land stretching about a kilometer across the mouth of the bay where the town of Sooke is located, and it has recorded an impressive list of birds.

**Whiffin Spit is perhaps the most well-known place to observe ocean and shore birds between Victoria and Port Renfrew. Alas, the many free-roaming pet dogs makes it less than ideal for shorbs.**

As Amy walked ahead, I schlepped my scope, zooming in on anything promising. Over the next hour, I found Red-breasted Mergansers, more Harlequin Ducks (Yay!), Surf Scoters, Common Loons, and most exciting, a pair of Pacific Loons. Along the path, I also got excellent looks at Black Oystercatchers and Black Turnstones. Alas, the numerous unleashed dogs did not create a bird-friendly environment, and chased off the birds several times. (Our dog, Lola, by the way, informed me that she would never engage in such unruly behavior—cough, cough.)

The longer we stayed on Vancouver Island, the more Pacific Loons I got to see. I have learned to identify these handsome birds by their silvery heads and neck postures, which remind me of cobras ready to strike. Up close, the dark “chin strap” is also diagnostic.

Despite these good birds, I had by now firmly set my mind on seeing alcids, a group of sea birds affectionately dubbed the penguins of the northern hemisphere. These birds include murres, guillemots, Razorbills, Dovekies, and puffins, but the ones I most wanted to see were murrelets. Two kinds frequented the area: Ancient and Marbled. My new birder friend John (see this recent post) had told me that Ancient Murrelets tended to fly around in groups while Marbled Murrelets were most often observed as loners floating on the surface. Either species would be a lifer for me, and I would have been ecstatic to find one. Alas, the task was proving much more difficult than I had hoped. I totally struck out in Victoria, and now I “whiffed” at Whiffin Spit, too.

Perhaps my best photo ever of an adult Common Merganser, hanging out on the bay side of Whiffin Spit with an equally stunning female.

The Point No Point Resort helped ease my disappointment. The cabins and rooms are all cleverly designed for privacy and each looks out over the spectacular Strait of Juan de Fuca (part of the Salish Sea). The sun was setting by the time we checked in—just time for me to set up my spotting scope and find a raft of about forty Surf Scoters floating below us. They would become regular companions of our stay. I also noted a few cormorants and other birds, but alas, no alcids.

**Our room at the Point No Point not only offered a mesmerizing view of the Olympic Peninsula across the water, but a chance to scope for more seabirds.**

Undaunted, I rose the next morning to hit two nearby spots that had been recommended as great seabird locations: Otter Point and Muir Creek. The birding gods seemed stubbornly pitted against me. I saw a few more loons, including my first Red-throated Loon, along with my first Pacific Wren and a dozen or so species I’d been seeing for the past few days, but nothing that really got my heart racing.

**At Muir Creek, I was pleased to get an actual look at a Pacific Wren. Amy and I heard them several other times, but the birds like their privacy!**

This pattern repeated itself for the next couple of days as Amy and I explored several more places between Sooke and Port Renfrew. Honestly, the birds that most excited me were Short-billed Gulls (formerly Mew Gulls)—birds that I had never seen in such numbers, and had only recently become skilled at identifying myself.

Gulls are notoriously difficult to identify—something I’ll tackle in an upcoming post—but the Short-billed Gull stands out for its smaller size, yellow legs, and overall “cuteness,” as Braden puts it. In breeding, its bill lacks any kind of marking, though as you can see in this photo, adults sport a faint ring at other times of the year.

Before we knew it, we arrived back at the Point No Point for our last luxurious evening of watching the sea and enjoying the view of the Olympic Peninsula across the water. As we prepared to soak in our private hot tub, though, I picked up my cool new binoculars (see our last post) for one final look at the ocean below us. In the rapidly fading light, I spotted our loyal raft of Surf Scoters, along with gulls and cormorants. Then, I noted a tiny speck in the breaking waves close to shore, and quickly focused in on it. I guessed it was a piece of kelp or driftwood, but then, through the lenses, the unlikely shape of a bird emerged!

My heart accelerating, I frantically set up the scope which lay at my feet and zoomed in on the shape. “No friggin’ way!” I exclaimed. Honestly, I didn’t know exactly what I was looking it, but I felt sure I hadn’t seen it before. I was also sure I needed some photos, no matter how crummy, so I switched out my scope for my camera on the tripod, and captured a few quick images through our windows before, to my disappointment, the bird drifted out of view behind some trees.

By this time, after a quick consult with my Sibley app, I felt positive that the tiny bird had indeed been a murrelet, but which kind? Studying my horrible photos and comparing them to Sibley, I noted the white patches on the shoulders and near the tail. That ruled out Ancient Murrelet. I also checked the illustrations for all the other alcids that might be in the area. Only one matched my photos: Marbled Murrelet! Even better, ten minutes later the bird reappeared below our window. By now, the light had grown truly dim, but I took my tripod and camera out onto the deck and managed some slightly better shots.

My fellow birders can imagine how that one bird pretty much made the entire trip for me. Everything else was just lovely, too, but a Marbled Murrelet? That put the icing on the cake, or for me, the chocolate chips in the cookie. It also sent my imagination racing, seeing that tiny bird deftly negotiate the waves crashing into shore. It was just so comfortable in an environment that would have snuffed me out in a matter of minutes.

Marbled Murrelets defy the imagination for another reason. Unlike other alcids, they nest not in burrows or on cliffs, but in trees! In fact, the nesting location of this bird remained a great ornithological mystery for more than a century as biologists looked everywhere (but not in the tops of trees, evidently) for a Marbled Murrelet nest. “Finally,” recounts Cornell Lab’s Birds of the World, “in 1961 and 1974, the first verified and published nests were reported in Asia and North America, respectively.”

Amazing.

Unfortunately, the birds prefer old-growth coastal forest, forests that have experienced extreme logging pressures over the past century. The birds have also been impacted by fishing gear, forest fires, and other hazards. As a result, the bird is listed as endangered or threatened throughout its North American range. That made it all the more remarkable that one had deigned to show up right below our picture window—almost as if following some kind of cosmic movie script. I felt very fortunate.

**Yay! More Harlequin Ducks! During our last session at Clover Point, these stunning birds really put on a show, chasing each other around and posing for one visiting birder.**

The next day, Amy and I returned to Victoria and another round of birding at Clover Point—my best session there yet. Pacific Loons, Buffleheads, Harlequin Ducks, and Surf Scoters seemed to be everywhere, and I was thrilled to find a pair of immaculately-feathered Long-tailed Ducks far out on the water. Though we would not head home until the following day, it was a great way to wrap up a trip that proved delightfully unexpected in so many ways. Huge gratitude goes to my wife and partner, Amy, for giving me such a wonderful surprise. And now, it was time for us to go celebrate with stiff umbrella drinks and a plate full of chicken enchiladas.

Bird of the Day honors for our last day in Victoria went to these Long-tailed Ducks. Adult male LTDUs (left) are especially striking in full plumage, and I at first assumed that the one on the right was a female. The rich brown back and bold, well-defined white face patch, however, suggests a first-year male.

Nikon Monarch HG Binoculars: FSB’s First Equipment Review!

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Review Update (March 4, 2025): I first published the positive review of Nikon’s Monarch HG binoculars below in January, and since then have had a chance to field test them more extensively in the rainforests of Colombia. And really, I have to say that this experience really sold me on these bad boys. How? By the clarity of light that comes through them in dark, extremely low-light conditions. Even when I could hardly make out anything with my naked eye, the binoculars allowed me great views of brushfinches and other skulking birds deep in shadow. They also performed astonishingly well in the common, backlit conditions of tree tops, where I was staring up at tiny shapes in the tops of trees backlit by gray, cloudy conditions. Twice, I had them out in the rain and nary a drop penetrated the binoculars’ body. Alas, I took a rather severe tumble while down there and the binoculars hit the ground hard. This knocked the tubes out of alignment so that they would no longer line up when I was focusing. However, none of the actual optics were damaged and I was able to use them as “monoculars” just fine the rest of the trip. It was a good testament to the ruggedness of the HGs—and they are out for repair as I write this!

**Sneed using his Nikon Monarch HG binoculars to focus in on an elusive Blackish Tapaculo in the Colombian Andes.**

Original Post:

2025 ushers in a brand new year of birding, and as such, Braden and I are taking our birding paths in new directions—something you will see in our forthcoming posts. One of those new directions is to post more reviews of bird-related books and birding equipment—all in the context of our continuing birding adventures. We’ve already dabbled in reviews a bit (see our post “Our Favorite Bird Books for the Holidays”), but today are pleased to unveil our first equipment review: Nikon’s Monarch HG binoculars. We hope you find this and upcoming reviews useful. Please let us know what you think!

As recounted in last week’s—and our next—posts (“Birding in Victoria, BC”), my wife’s and my recent visit to Victoria offered a rare chance to search for and observe shorebirds and seabirds. Although Braden and I have been birding for over a decade, our opportunities to observe ocean birds have been lamentably scarce, and ahead of this trip, I asked myself the crucial question: “What equipment should I bring?”

Taking my camera was, as usual, a no-brainer, and I quickly concluded that I’d be kicking myself if I didn’t bring my spotting scope and tripod as well. After all, ocean birds tend to hang out annoyingly far from shore! Surprisingly, my binoculars gave me the biggest pause. I, of course, needed binoculars, but I had been using my trusty pair of Nikon Monarch 5s for almost nine years and, frankly, I’d beaten the crap out of them. Not only could I use a new pair, I decided that it was time for an upgrade.

Although writing is at best a questionable way to try to earn a living, one advantage is that publishers are generally happy to send me copies of books to review. I had never before requested equipment, but with the recent success of Birding for Boomers, decided to give it a shot as well. Braden and I have both had good experiences with Nikon and Vortex equipment before, and so I wrote to both companies requesting to try out their upper-range binoculars. To my astonishment, a Nikon rep wrote back the very same day with the message that he would get a pair right out to me. Even better, they arrived before our Victoria trip, providing the perfect chance to field test them.

**The Monarch HGs offer superior optics, a better build, closer focal length, and a wider field of view than most other binoculars on the market—all at a reasonable price.**

Nikon Monarch HGs are Nikon’s top-of-the-line binoculars for viewing wildlife, and as I pulled them out of the box, I immediately liked how they felt in my hands. The tubes fit just right into the arch between my thumb and forefinger, and the rubberized tube coating provided the right amount of “grippiness” for all kinds of weather. My next thought? Geez, you could run these over with a Jeep and not hurt them. I decided not to conduct that particular test, but with the HG’s magnesium alloy body, it may well be true.

I had requested a 10X42 pair of HGs. This meant that they offered ten times magnification and came with 42 mm diameter objective (front) lenses—the same specs as my old Monarch M5s. However, I immediately noted several cool additional features of the HGs. One is that they offered a 25% wider field of view—something especially important when scanning for birds. They also allowed me to focus on an object only 6.6 feet away versus 8.2 feet for the M5s. Think juncos and other sparrows!

Another great feature is that the HG diopter ring could be locked in place once you adjusted the focus for your particular eyes (for details, see note below).

The Monarch HGs feature a diopter ring **(“corrugated” ring on the upper left)** that can be locked in to make sure birders get a good focus with both eyes. Note that for people who wear eye glasses, the HGs feature eye relief tubes that are sturdy, pull out smoothly, and click in place at different lengths to avoid slippage.

A fourth handy thing I noticed about the HGs is that the objective lenses are set farther back from the front edge of the tubes. This means that they are less likely to get scratched and/or wet. Finally, Nikon particularly touts their field flattening technology with these binoculars—a technology that, according to them, dramatically reduces distortion and chromatic aberration across the full field of view. But the question remained: how would the Monarch HGs perform in the field?

It turns out that during our Victoria excursion, the importance of binoculars came into play to a surprising extent. Before the trip, I figured I would just be searching through my scope for seabirds and shorebirds. What I discovered, though, is that binoculars were an even more important scanning tool than usual. Why? For one thing, they allowed me to cover a larger area more quickly than the scope. It’s true that the lower magnification didn’t reach as far out to sea, but that was mostly compensated for by the fact that the binoculars offered a much brighter image. This was because of their lower magnification that let more light through to my eyes, and because of the extremely sharp image that the HGs produced. Especially at the low light levels of dawn and dusk, I often was able to pinpoint and identify birds more easily with the binoculars than with the scope. On the first morning, for instance (see our post “Birding Victoria, BC”), I had much better luck identifying birds on a set of islands about a quarter-mile offshore by using my binoculars. In my next post, I’ll share another experience during which the HGs helped me discover an especially heart-thumping species.

**I was surprised to find that, even at distances of a quarter-mile or more, it was often easier to find and even ID birds with my new binoculars before zooming in on them with the scope.**

One thing that makes Nikon optics so good is that they use low dispersion (ED) glass elements on many of their models. This reduces common distortion and chromatic aberration—light separating into different colors—around images. Coatings on the internal prisms ensure that the maximum amount of light passes all the way through the binoculars to your eyes. The company’s less expensive M5 binoculars, also have many of these features—begging the question, “Why should I spring for the more expensive HGs?” After all, as I write this the HGs run just short of $1,000 while the M5s can be had for about a quarter of that price. Furthermore, the brightness of the two models struck me as similar.

My answer is in two parts. Part I is that if your budget lies in the $2-300 range, you will probably be perfectly happy with the M5s. Part II is that, as mentioned, the HGs have a closer focal distance and wider field of view, enhanced with Nikon’s field flattener lens technology. However, many of the HG’s advantages lie in things you can’t see, such as the quality of the build, the effectiveness of waterproofing and anti-fogging features, and basic durability. The Nikon rep neatly summarized it as “more advanced optics and tougher shell.” If you are ready to invest a bit more into your birding equipment and performance, these features make the HGs a wonderful choice—even if you don’t run them over with a Jeep!

The HGs are not perfect. As with my Monarch 5s, the front rubber flaps designed to protect the objective lenses fall out almost as soon as you snap them in, rendering them pretty useless. This is not an insurmountable technical problem to solve, and I hope that Nikon’s engineers take time to figure it out. This is a relatively minor issue, however, and did little to lessen my enthusiasm for these outstanding, well-priced binoculars.

Overall Rating (on a scale of cool birds): Harlequin Duck (highest)

The Monarch HG’s objective lenses are set more deeply into the tubes, making them less likely to get damaged or dirty. This is doubly important since the press-in flaps designed to protect them pop out with annoying regularity. Also note the threaded hole below the center knob. This can be used to attach a mount for use with tripods.

Diopter ring note: For those unfamiliar with it, the diopter ring allows one to adjust each of a binocular’s tubes for the different vision in a person’s eyes. You do this by using the central focusing knob to focus on an object while looking through the side without the diopter ring, and while keeping the other eye closed. Then, you open only the eye on the side with the diopter ring and adjust the ring until that tube also comes into focus. From then on, the central focusing knob alone will keep an image in focus for both eyes. Many cheaper binoculars, however, do not come with a diopter adjustment ring, while many of those that do won’t allow you to lock it in place for your eyes—meaning that it can easily slip. That can be a pain out in the field, and having that “dual focus” locked in can prevent a lot of frustration later on!