Category Archives: California

Braden’s Tales from the High Sierras, Episode 2: Bearly Birding

We hope everyone had a nice 4th of July weekend. To help you get back into the usual routine, we’re delighted to present Braden’s second report from his job looking for Northern Goshawks in the California Sierras. So far, the goshawks are few, but the other animals abound! To see his first post, click here. Will there be more goshawks? What other surprises will greet his intrepid crew? Be sure to check in on upcoming posts to find out!

The Brushy Hollow PAC lay about forty-five minutes from Beardsley Lake, a man-made reservoir in the Stanislaus National Forest where we’d be spending the next two nights camping. After waking up at the crack of dawn and unsuccessfully trying to snag some good photos of the Black-throated Gray Warblers around camp, our crew began driving the cliffside road up to Brushy Hollow. As we neared the PAC, my peripheral vision caught a large brown animal absolutely booking it away from the car. Stanislaus National Forest was (unfortunately) filled to the brim with cattle–we either saw them or heard the bells hanging from their necks every time we went out. No cow had ever fled from the car this quickly, though, and as I snapped my head back to look I spotted paws, not hooves, trampling the brush before the mammal disappeared into the forest.

“Bear!” I shouted, but it was too late. The bear wanted nothing to do with us.

**Our crew prepares to tackle another PAC in search of Northern Goshawks. But would mammals intervene?**

Again, the rest of the crew missed it, so a slightly disappointed car arrived at the parking lot for Brushy Hollow. The parking lot consisted of a small patch of grass off to the side of the dirt road, and we were greeted by an army of mosquitoes as we stepped outside of our brand new, cherry-red Nissan rental truck that the rental car company had decided to give us for the summer. We set off into the forest, which was only somewhat brushy and somewhat a hollow, despite the name of the PAC. Many of the usual birds greeted us, including calling Mountain Quail, Olive-sided Flycatcher and pairs of White-headed Woodpeckers flying between the pines. As far as ease of travel, the PAC turned out to be one of our best. Mountain Misery—a native, ground-hugging plant also called “bear clover” (foreshadowing warning)—covered much of the ground, meaning we barely had to lift our feet as we followed our transects. Sam and I met up and began walking up a hill towards Miles where we would enjoy lunch. As soon as we spotted Miles, he stood up and pointed frantically behind us.

“Bear!”

“Bear, bear, bear!!” We echoed as we whirled around to spot another bear sprinting away from us down a nearby road. Ivara followed suit, and we all yelled at the animal for a little while as was protocol before sitting down for lunch.

Adrenaline filling our veins, we sat down in the Mountain Misery, slapping mosquitoes and talking about what we’d just seen. Two bears in one day! And then, our eyes darted again to the same road, where two MORE brown bears ambled by, as if on their way to work!

We finished our lunch quickly, heading towards the other side of the PAC. I proceeded to get very lost, then eventually found, and we took one last break on a log before finishing up our transects for the day. As we scarfed down our last snacks, a crack echoed behind us. The sound of a branch breaking. We turned around, and the response was immediate.

**Five bears in one day was a record for all of us. We were too excited to remember to take any photos, but here’s a mama bear staring suspiciously at my dad in our backyard in Missoula.**

“Bear! Bear!”

This time the brown bear just watched us for several minutes, wondering why four humans had suddenly started yelling at it during its afternoon walk. Eventually, though, this bear did turn tail, but not after my adrenaline hit new levels! Five bears was enough, and Ivara called it for the day.

Bear Note: All bears in California today are black bears. Black bears vary widely in color from black and cinnamon to the “brown black bears” that Braden observed. The bear on the California state flag, however, is a subspecies of the much larger grizzly bear. Apparently, about 10,000 grizzlies once roamed California. Large carnivores such as the grizzly, however, were not welcome by cattle ranchers and the influx of settlers following the gold rush, and the California grizzly was shot, trapped, and poisoned to extinction by the mid-1920s. Some efforts have been made to reintroduce grizzlies to the state, but so far, all proposals have been rejected. To read a nice article about the situation, click here.

Braden’s Tales from the High Sierras, Episode 1: Stumbling into Saw-whets

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We want to thank all of you for making June our biggest month ever at FatherSonBirding! The number of you viewing our posts absolutely demolished all previous records with more than 1300 visits to our site. We kick off July with the first of a series of posts from Braden. Since early June, he has been working as a field intern for The Institute for Bird Populations. His job? Monitoring Northern Goshawks on the west slope of California’s Sierras. While searching for the elusive accipiters, he and his four-person team are having birding adventures most of us only dream about. Here is his first field report: an encounter with Northern Saw-whet Owls.

Northern Saw-whet Owl

In our first week on the job my team leader, Ivara, decided that we would get the Black Oak PAC over with. A PAC is basically an area of land chosen kind of arbitrarily based on goshawk habitat, territory size and private land boundaries that we survey, and we usually try to complete a PAC every two days. Black Oak was by far the toughest PAC, but we dove right in, bushwhacking through brush in search of any signs of Northern Goshawks. Unfortunately, we couldn’t really focus on scanning the trees above us for nests given the sheer density of the vegetation growing on the slope in front of us. While birds certainly loved all of the brush, with Fox Sparrows and Nashville Warblers singing from exposed perches around me, the foliage did not welcome me as it did them. After about thirty minutes, I found myself wildly off my compass bearing, following the edge of an intimidating thicket in an attempt to get back to my correct line. We considered being five degrees off as “off course”. I was off by thirty!

**Some of the typical Sierras terrain where we conduct our Northern Goshawk Surveys.**

I took a deep breath, plunging into the vegetation in the direction of my coworkers and my correct bearing. I bent to avoid spiderwebs stretching between branches, jumping on top of decaying logs at any chance I got to relieve myself from the sticks that drew blood from my legs. After about fifty meters, the brush somehow worsened. I couldn’t see three feet in front of me, but I pressed on. And suddenly, I flushed a bird.

At first, my mind went to American Robin. It was a medium-sized, brown species, and it darted away from me as if planning to disappear into the impossible maze ahead. Instead, it landed on a nearby tree branch. I lifted my binoculars, peering through a small gap in the leaves, and exhaled in shock. My voice quavered as I spoke into my radio.

“Holy cow. I just found a baby Saw-whet Owl.”

I’d only seen pictures of juvenile Saw-whets once before, on a checklist from Missoula that I’d stared at with jealousy. This bird stared right back at me, its curious, unmoving eyes gazing at the beast that had just disturbed it. The bird’s back was a creamy brown color, adorned with a few spots, and a bushy unibrow accented golden eyes. I could barely see its tiny talons clutching the branch, complemented by buffy feathers that coated its legs.

Unfortunately, I was too lost to direct my coworkers to come see the owls, but I was in no hurry to continue the goshawk search. Our rule: looking for goshawks is important, but so is watching cool wildlife that happens to pop up! On cue, in fact, a second bird flew to a lower branch on the same tree. It was another juvenile owl! My brain registered that it must have just abandoned its day roost mere feet from where I stood. That meant—

My eyes scanned the foliage immediately around me and I saw it: a third baby owl who had not yet flushed in a young pine tree two feet from my face. Staring intensely at me. I didn’t dare move, shifting my gaze between this third, most fearless owl and its siblings in the mature tree behind it. I’d left my camera behind in anticipation of the tough bushwhacking, but slowly snapped a few photos with my phone. I’d never found a roosting owl all on my own before, and here I’d just blundered into three!

**This third, and most fearless, of the three baby Saw-whet Owls I discovered will forever be one of my most memorable birding encounters.**

After about twenty minutes of staring contests with the cutest birds I’ve ever seen, I slowly backed out the way I had come, taking a left into more brush. Soon, I was on my stomach, army-crawling through somehow-worse vegetation, but I couldn’t be happier. Little did I know that this would mark only the first of many unforgettable wildlife encounters I would experience in the coming weeks . . .

Arizona 2022, Part 4: To Patagonia Lake, Madera Canyon and Beyond!

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This is the last installment of our four-part Arizona adventure. We’ve had a great response to these posts and want to thank you for all of your enthusiasm! Keep birding and supporting birds however you can, and we will share more adventures soon!

We departed our Nogales hotel the next morning to find a gorgeous Vermillion Flycatcher sitting on a bench outside the front door. It boded well for the day as we headed to our first destination, Patagonia Lake State Park, a place featured in the movie The Big Year, though undoubtedly not filmed there. Patagonia indeed upheld its reputation as a great birding spot, and we checked off two more Life Birds—Northern Beardless Tyrannulet and Bell’s Vireo. We also saw Summer Tanagers and got our best experience ever watching Phainopeplas, which sport the ultimate in cool with their silky black suits and blazing red eyes. Alas, we missed Braden’s top target, Varied Bunting—but picked it up at a small rest area just up the road!

**Although we missed Varied Buntings at Patagonia Lake, we got good looks at them at several more sites, including this one at Madera Canyon.**

Our Patagonia Lake checklist!

**We had seen Phainopeplas before, but got to spend about fifteen minutes watching them flycatch at Patagonia State Park—an experience that made us even more impressed with them!**

We had debated what to do with the rest of the day and had considered going for Whiskered Screech Owl in the rugged mountains west of Nogales, but with serious heat and the prospect of rough mountain roads to negotiate, we decided for the more comfortable alternative of Madera Canyon, a place we had both adored on our Big Year visit in 2016. We felt grateful for our decision after we staked out a campsite and availed ourselves of the marvelous bird feeders at Santa Rita Lodge. There we picked up Rivoli’s Hummingbird and Arizona Woodpecker for Braden’s Big Year list, and had much better looks at Varied Buntings, Hepatic Tanagers, and more.

**We feared we had missed Arizona Woodpecker for the trip, but Madera Canyon delivered. We just love the unique, brown motif of this Arizona specialty.**

As we were watching a group of Turkey Vultures, I suddenly saw one make a quick move that didn’t look right. “Braden, look at that!” We both got eyes on it and Braden shouted, “Zone-tailed Hawk!” We had seen one before, but had no idea of their close association with Turkey Vultures. In fact, it looked so much like a Turkey Vulture that it left no doubt that some kind of mimicry or convergent evolution had shaped it. Some speculate that potential prey (birds, reptiles, mammals) feel safe with Turkey Vultures overhead—giving a sneaky Zone-tailed a chance for a surprise attack!

**The “Turkey Vulture Hawk”, Zone-tailed Hawk, looks so much like a Turkey Vulture, we only ID’ed it after several double-takes.**

That afternoon we also enjoyed the company of multiple Mexican Jays and Painted Redstarts at our campsite and, later, heard the calls from the same trio of night birds we had enjoyed two nights before in Portal—along with our year’s first Common Poorwills! Oh, and did I mention Braden’s ears also scanned in the calls of Sulphur-bellied Flycatchers and Elegant Trogons? “Again,” Forrest Gump might groan.

**This curious Mexican Jay kept us company as Braden and I read aloud to each other at our campsite during the peak of the afternoon heat.**

The next morning, before aiming toward California, we had one more task. After rolling up camp, Braden guided us to a place called Montosa Canyon in the same range as Madera. Why? To find a recently-sighted, highly-coveted Five-striped Sparrow. I really didn’t know what our chances might be, but it took about thirty seconds for Braden to locate it, a handsome bird similar to Black-throated Sparrow. As an added bonus, Braden said, “Daddy, look over there.” I focused on a hummingbird and immediately recognized a species I’d read about countless times—a male Costa’s Hummingbird! The Costa’s was superb and we did a little dance, thinking it was Braden’s 400^th bird for his Big Year—the goal he had set for himself in January! We later learned, however, that we had inadvertently seen a juvenile Costa’s at Madera the day before, so 400 would have to wait for California Scrub-jay later that afternoon.

Our Montosa Canyon checklist!

Our first adult male Costa’s Hummingbird!

Many more birding adventures would unfold in the coming days as we made our way to San Diego to visit our cousin Laura, and then drove up to the Sierras to deliver Braden to his job monitoring Northern Goshawks for the summer. Sadly, from there I would continue home alone, hitting Modoc National Wildlife Refuge in Alturas and spending a fun three days with my friend and college roommate—not to mention avid reader of FatherSonBirding—yes, you guessed it, Roger Kohn. Roger showed me some of his favorite hotspots around his new home of Bend—and spotted a bird I especially wanted to see, White-headed Woodpecker. He also showed me the delights of Bend’s many brew pubs, but that, unfortunately, concludes this tale. Stay tuned for many more adventures including my recent fabulous birding in Billings and beyond, and Braden’s report(s) from the High Sierras. Who knows, I might even do some more truck birding this summer! Also stay tuned for more progress on Braden’s Big Year. After he hit 400 on our trip, I pushed him to reluctantly lift his target to 450—but between you and me, I think 500 has a much nicer sound to it. Will he go for it? I think he just might!

Braden’s Big Year total when I dropped him off near Sonora, California: 411 (New Goal: 450)

**On my way home to Montana, my good friend Roger Kohn and I went in search of—and found—a White-headed Woodpecker. Don’t you love this critter?**

Make 2020 a Year of Saving Birds!

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Welcome to all of our new subscribers—and thank you for your interest! Please note that Braden and I are about to embark on a once-in-a-lifetime trip to the Middle East, so won’t be posting for a few weeks. When we do, we should have some amazing stories to share!

Season’s Greetings Fellow Birders! Between school exams, swim meets, book deadlines, and the general craziness of life, Braden and I haven’t been out birding a lot in the last few months, but we wanted to wish all of you Happy Holidays and a dawning new year of birding. With your patience, we’d also like to reflect a bit on the past year, the future, and what we can all do to help the animals that we love.

**Getting to know Montana birds better—including this fabulous Harlequin Duck on McDonald Creek in Glacier National Park—has been one of the major 2019 achievements for Braden and me.**

It was another amazing year of birding for Team Collard. Without intending to, we smashed our Montana Big Year records by at least a dozen birds each, with Sneed logging 222 species in the state (15 more species than in 2017) and Braden recording 225 species—12 more than in 2017. We also broke our combined Big Year record, though we’re too lazy to figure out the total (about 340 species together). This year, Braden tallied 44 new Life Birds while I added 21.

But while statistics are fun and motivating, for us they really aren’t what birding is about. Birding brings so many benefits to our lives, it’s hard to list them all, but top of the list are a chance to get outside, explore new places, see new species, learn about our remarkable planet, educate others about birding, and most of all, spend time together. This year, our favorite experiences included:

**Perhaps our most rewarding 2020 activity? Leading birding trips for a new generation of young—and “almost young”—birders!**

1) Participating in the San Diego Bird Festival

2) Getting to know Montana birds better

3) Leading birding trips for school groups and others

That last one brings up an important point. Those of us who love birds owe it to the planet to do as much as we can to protect them. That includes educating other people about the importance of birds and what’s happening to them worldwide. Don’t short-sell yourself. If you’ve ever been birding at all, you have important knowledge to share. Most people know almost nothing about birds, so even teaching a friend how to identify a House Sparrow or an American Goldfinch could be the beginning of a long and rewarding journey.

We were thrilled this fall to observe and help participate in long-term studies of bird migrations through western Montana using banding and flight call studies. Here, a Townsend’s Warbler (I think) gets unceremoniously dunked head-first into a weighing canister. This does nothing to harm the bird, but gives scientists at MPG Ranch and the University of Montana’s Bird Ecology Lab important data for monitoring and protecting songbirds.

We especially want to encourage everyone to give as much money—yes, cold hard CASH—as you can to organizations that are helping birds. Because of this year’s higher standard tax deduction, charitable donations have plummeted, and that has hurt a lot of nonprofit groups—especially in an era when they need support more than ever. Keep in mind, too, that if you donate to National Audubon, that doesn’t necessarily do much to support your state and local Audubon chapters. You have to give to all three. Here are some of Braden’s and my favorite groups that we give to:

National Audubon Society, and State and local Audubon chapters

The Cornell Lab of Ornithology

Owl Research Institute

BirdLife International

American Bird Conservancy

Please check out these groups and GIVE UNTIL IT HURTS. We thank you, and appreciate all you do to share your love of birds and, even more, to make sure that the next generation enjoys a bird-rich planet.

This Western Screech Owl says: “Instead of buying friends and family more junk this holiday season, why not give them a LASTING gift with a donation to the Owl Research Institute and other bird conservation organizations?”

San Diego Seabirds

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Well, it looks like we have solved our Russian hacker problems but we’re still missing half of our subscriber list. You can help by sharing this with your birding friends and urging them to resubscribe. If you have a problem doing this, please let us know at collard@bigsky.net and I’ll subscribe you. We thank you, birder to birder!

Our last day of the San Diego Bird Festival took us away from shore on the mighty birding (and perhaps fishing) vessel New Seaforth. This would be Braden’s and my third California pelagic birding cruise and in many ways it proved the most memorable. Almost immediately upon leaving the safety of Mission Bay, we began seeing dozens of Black-vented Shearwaters heading north and, of course, we followed them. They led us to a massive fish feast, where from 5-10,000 shearwaters gorged themselves on acres of anchovies. At least a thousand gulls, countless cormorants, and sea lions and common dolphins joined the fray.

Every time a shearwater surfaced stuffed with anchovies, gulls mobbed it until it regurgitated part of its catch. Note the shearwater on the far right fleeing the gang ‘o gulls!

After enjoying this spectacle for half an hour, we turned south and angled farther out to sea. Braden said, “I have three priorities today: Scripps’s Murrelets, Pomarine Jaegers, and Brown Boobies.” My own priority was simpler: I really wanted to see a Brown Booby—or any booby for that matter. It wasn’t long before our target species began showing up.

Scripps’s Murrelets were only described for science in 1859 and were heading toward extinction before efforts to rid their nesting islands of invasive rats and cats.

Undoubtedly the stars of the day were the Scripps’s Murrelets. These birds nest only in the Santa Barbara Channel Islands and on Mexico’s Coronado Islands, which loomed in the distance. The murrelets lay gigantic eggs compared to their body sizes—a full twenty percent of an adult’s weight. This advanced “in egg” development is no accident. Only two days after hatching, the chicks sneak away to the ocean to be raised by their parents almost entirely at sea. As we steamed south, we saw more and more of these adorable alcids, usually floating in pairs.

The boat “chummed” with popcorn, and that kept the gulls busy behind the boat, but also attracted brief visits from Braden’s second target, Pomarine Jaegers. Then Paul Lehman, our leader for the day, shouted over the PA, “Brown Booby at 12:00 o’clock, coming straight toward the boat!”

Braden and I had longed to see a booby in American waters since visiting the Galapagos in 2016.

I hurried to the rail in time to see the elegant “gannet shape” of the booby as it sped fifty yards off the port side. The bird even did a quick circuit around the stern, giving us all good looks at its handsome chocolate-covered head and back before speeding away again.

“Yes!” I whispered to myself.

The day wasn’t without its challenges. The steady 3-foot swell took a toll on Braden, forcing him below deck for part of the journey. Still, he agreed that the birds were worth the queasiness and, as if to drive home the point, a pod of common dolphins escorted us part of the way back to the mainland.

Hasta la vista, San Diego—until the next time!