Category Archives: Ducks and Geese

The Duck Capital of Europe

Braden here.

Lake Myvatn, Iceland, is the Waterfowl Capital of Europe, and maybe the world. Its rich wetlands and nutrient waters provide habitat for more than 15 breeding species of ducks, more than anywhere else on the continent (well, the European Continent. Technically Iceland is on two continental plates, but whatever).

Our tour was not for the waterfowl, however. Myvatn is also famous for its geology—the place is a geologist’s playground. We had just come from Godafoss, the waterfall of the gods, where I’d scored a family of 13 Rock Ptarmigans along with the stunning landscape.

We pulled up at our first and only stop close to the lake. This area was known for its pseudocraters, or fake craters, created by lava running over areas of water. To be honest, though, the “famous” craters were not much to look at. They were just dips in the ground, surrounded by farmland. The bird numbers, however, were incredible.

When I first glimpsed the lake, I found myself staring at hundreds, possibly thousands, of white speckles scattered around the shorelines: Whooper Swans! In mid-summer, apparently, these swans congregated in large numbers in sheltered areas of freshwater, and Myvatn was perfect! Huge rafts of ducks also decorated the surface—closer looks told me that these were mostly Tufted Duck, Eurasian Wigeon, and Greater Scaup, the males transforming into their drab summer or “eclipse” plumages.

Pairs of Whooper Swans dominated the lake, more swans than I’d seen anywhere else at one time. (Photo by Braden Collard)

And another, less obvious species was on the lake in numbers—Red-necked Phalaropes! These tiny shorebirds were barely half the size of the nearest duck, and spun in rapid circles to stir up food from the bottom.

This farmland was not a desert of biodiversity like some—it also had a great number of birds around. In the hedge rows, Common Snipe hid with their newborn young, hoping to avoid their human, camera-carrying “predators.”. Alas, they did not succeed—I got great shots!

The short grass of the fields was a shorebird and songbird’s feast—Common Redshanks, Dunlins, Red-necked Phalaropes, Whimbrels, Redwings, White Wagtails, Meadow Pipits and Snow Buntings nibbled at the seeds.

Red-necked Phalaropes are one of the few species of birds in which females are brighter than males. (Photo by Braden Collard)

Along one side of the trail, I suddenly heard a haunting, ghostly call echo across the lake—a Common Loon! Known as the “Great Northern Diver” to the Brits, a pair and baby sat amidst a flock of swans, about 100 meters offshore. I spotted another prize, too—Horned (“Slovenian”) Grebes, much closer to shore. They were another reason European birders loved Lake Myvatn, as they were another specialty of the region. Other Iceland-exclusive birds occurring at Myvatn were Harlequin Ducks (which I did not see) and Barrow’s Goldeneye (which I did). However, the loons, grebes and ducks all occurred much more commonly in the United States, so I was more excited about what the Europeans would consider “common” birds—the snipe, redwings, wagtails, phalaropes, etc.

This baby snipe was less than a foot off of the trail! (Photo by Braden Collard)

Warblers Across Montana

We heard more Northern Waterthrushes than saw them, but did manage an occasional glimpse. (photo by Sneed B. Collard III)

During our 2016 Big Year, Braden and I were fortunate to attend the Monterey Bay Birding Festival. Our all-day “California Specialties” field trip was one of the most exhilarating days of birding we’d had to that point and ever since, we’d wanted to attend a similar event. Last weekend, we finally got our chance by going to Wings Across the Big Sky, held in Kalispell, Montana. As you might imagine, the event was loaded with terrific speakers, good food, and amazing field trips.

Picking our field trips proved a challenge, but on Saturday Braden and I opted to bird in Glacier National Park. Our top target species? Varied Thrush, Chestnut-backed or Boreal Chickadees, Harlequin Duck, and a pie-in-the-sky possibility, the endangered Black Swift. Shortly after 6 a.m., we followed our intrepid leader, Steve Gniadek, out of Kalispell and by 7:30 were birding the woods around Apgar. Almost immediately, we picked up one of our target birds, Chestnut-backed Chickadee, but what really stunned us was the profusion of warblers. In the thick, damp woods, seeing the birds proved a challenge, but their calls rang out all around us and, under Steve’s tutelage, we did our best to start learning them. Over the next two hours, we heard (and eventually saw) eight species—Yellow, Yellow-rumped, Townsend’s, American Redstart, Northern Waterthrush, Orange-crowned, Common Yellowthroat and MacGillivray’s. For Montana, it was an astounding total and almost a quarter of the 33 species we recorded.

MacGillivray’s Warblers have become one of Braden’s and my favorite summer arrivals in Montana. (photo by Sneed B. Collard III)

Our group’s next mission: Harlequin Ducks. The iconic Going-to-the-Sun Road was still closed, but we drove to Avalanche Creek to find a mob scene of hikers and bikers taking advantage of the closed road before cars were allowed up and over Logan Pass. In the confusion, our cars got separated, but as soon as our group stepped out of our car, we heard the eerie, drawn-out call of a Varied Thrush. “Let’s find it!” Braden exclaimed, leading us into a patch of conifers and, sure enough, we caught good, brief glimpses of this spectacular bird.

No sooner had we stepped out into the open, Braden and another member of our group shouted “Black Swifts!” We looked overhead to see several large black birds zooming about 100 feet above us. “How do you know they’re not Vaux’s?” I asked. The large size and slower wing beats strongly suggested Black Swifts, but a few minutes later, we got a clear answer when a Vaux’s and a Black Swift flew right next to each other, articulating the size difference between the two.

Elated with this bonus—a Lifer for both Braden and me—we headed down to MacDonald Creek to try to locate Harlequin Ducks. We didn’t find them, but got a great look at a Fox Sparrow and heard yet more warblers. By this time our comrades had reformed and we all decided to walk up Avalanche Creek. None of us expected to find the ducks, but at our last stop along the creek, I happened to glance at a shady eddy upstream—just in time to see a large shape disappear beneath the surface!

A Lifer for me, this Harlequin Duck put an end to a two-year search. (photo by Sneed B. Collard III)

I grabbed Braden’s arm. “Braden, watch that spot!” A few seconds later, a gorgeous male Harlequin Duck popped to the surface. The duck performed for our group for twenty minutes. I can’t say I got great photos, but watching this happy, rare white-water paddler enjoy the currents is something Braden and I will never forget.

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King of the Tyrants

Braden again.

We had been in Peru almost three weeks, and birding was on our minds. Okay sure, it had been on our minds the entire trip so far, but none of the things we’d done had been birding-oriented—we’d had a homestay in Cuzco, a weekend getaway to Pisac, a week journeying the Sacred

Probably the coolest ducks at Huarcapay, these Puna Teal glided effortlessly across the mountain lake. (Photo by Braden Collard)

Valley including Machu Picchu. Don’t get me wrong, we saw tons of great birds, including the national bird of Peru and quite possibly the most stunning bird in South America (see Post: “Washout at Machu Picchu”), but nothing on our schedule was designed to see birds. It just included them. So, as our time in Peru came to a close, we decided it was time to hire a guide and really see some birds.

At 5:30 a.m., we were picked up by our guide Juan Jose Salas Falcon and his stepfather from our hotel in Cuzco. We drove in the direction of the ruins of Sacsayhuaman (“Sexy Woman”), which we had visited about a week earlier. Our planned destination was Laguna de Huacarpay, which I had researched on ebird the night before. Thanks to recent lists, my dad and I had picked our target birds: Puna Ibis, Mountain Caracara, Aplomado Falcon, any kind of duck (only five species were common here) and the Many-colored Rush-Tyrant.

Just one of a trio we saw harassing a Variable Hawk, this Mountain Caracara was another Target Bird for the day. (Photo by Braden Collard)

We stopped at a few spots first to see some endemic landbirds (including the exotic-looking Chestnut-breasted Mountain-Finch) and get close to waterfowl, then arrived at the lake. At first glance, it resembled Lee Metcalf Wildlife Refuge, our local Montana go-to spot for waterfowl, but much, much bigger. Surrounding it were polluted neighborhoods, tall chain-link fences, and scrub-covered mountains.

We pulled to the side of the road shortly upon arriving and then trudged through the reeds to an observation tower where we got great looks at a solitary Chilean Flamingo feeding in the shallows. As we were heading back to the car, Juan Jose stopped us.

“Shhh! That rattle—it’s a rush-tyrant!”

We moved towards the sound, and I thought about what he had told us about this bird on the drive up. He said the locals had a story about how this bird had stolen all of the other tyrant’s colors. Suddenly, in response to Juan Jose’s playback, a small rainbow bird popped into view! The bird had a blue face, yellow body, green back and red rump—the entire rainbow displayed on one bird. It reminded me of the Common Yellowthroats we had back home: skulkers, but beautiful. Success! The day following this great sighting was amazing; we got every single target bird, along with more endemics and surprises we could wish for.

This Many-colored Rush-Tyrant was just one of the birds that made our day. (Photo by Braden Collard)

Wigeons and Pigeons

Braden here again. The Fort Missoula Gravel Quarry is one of, if not the best, spot to bird in all of the city of Missoula. In the past six months or so, my dad and I have gone there at least four or five times, picking up a lifer every single time. The lifers haven’t been common, either—at least in Montana. Last fall we spotted White-throated Sparrow, Horned Grebe, and Long-tailed Duck, none of which were supposed to be here. I’ll save those stories for another time.

Can you find the Eurasian Wigeon in this photo of American Wigeons and pigeons?

As we headed out this morning, my dad confidently said, “I think we’ll get a lifer today.”

“Really?” I said. “Like what?”

“Eurasian Wigeon.”

“Huh. Aside from Ross’s Goose, which would be a lifer only for me, I guess that’s our best chance.”

On ebird there had been reports of many hundreds of American Wigeons at the quarry recently, but none of the experienced birders who had visited had reported a Eurasian. As we pulled up and exited the car, I began to set up the scope, which we still weren’t very experienced using. All of the ducks were on the close pond, thankfully, so we could view them pretty well through the scope.

Tons of wigeons floated on the pond and fed on the grass nearby with pigeons, flying back and forth randomly. We also spotted Lesser Scaup, Common Goldeneye, Mallards, Redheads, Canvasbacks and a Northern Shoveler.

I began searching for Barrow’s Goldeneye while my dad took a turn with the scope, turning it towards the feeding wigeons.

“I see something…with a red head. Not a Redhead. Could it be something cool?” he asked. My heart jumped.

“Yeah!” I said excitedly, “Lemme see!”

“Okay, its in the scope now.”

I looked through and saw the duck’s red head, yellow forehead and gray sides and back. There was no question as to what this was.

“Eurasian Wigeon! It’s a Eurasian Wigeon!”

I let my dad look again.

“That’s so cool! What did I tell you?” he said.

We watched the bird for a while, both feeding and swimming. I considered this a huge victory for us, not only getting a lifer, but finding a rare bird all on our own! We were moving up!

Even though it’s from a great distance, you can still clearly see the reddish head, gray body, and yellow crown—the field marks of a Eurasian Wigeon.

A Real Wild Goose Chase

An enormous flock of Snow Geese swirling above the Freezeout Lake area before resuming their migration north. (Photo by Sneed B. Collard III)

One of Braden’s and my favorite spring traditions is to drive three hours to a place called Freezeout Lake. Why? To watch the annual appearance of white geese that “pit-stop” on their way to northern breeding grounds.

This year we headed out Monday morning, March 26 (Spring Break), hoping to find an abundance of the white birds. We first stopped in Great Falls to observe a good variety of ducks, especially Common Goldeneyes, on the Missouri River. Making our way up to Freezeout, we also encountered 1,000 Snow Geese feeding in fields near Powers, Montana. At Freezeout itself, however, our biggest finds were about 300 Northern Pintails and a few Tundra Swans.

A “small” flock of Snow Geese hunkered on a frozen pond. (Photo by Sneed B. Collard III)

After spending the night in Choteau, we awoke before dawn and made our way back to Freezeout. We joined several other birders as a blue dawn stretched over the still-frozen ponds. 5-10,000 geese huddled on the ice—far fewer than we had hoped for—but as the sun peeked over the horizon, one flock rose into the air cackling and squawking, putting on a delightful show.

“Well,” I said, “I guess that’s about it for this year.”

Then, I glanced east.

“Look!” I shouted.

My fellow birders spun around to behold thirty to forty thousand more geese approaching. I had no idea where they’d come from, but they filled the skies! They circled around one pond and we thought they would head out to the adjacent fields to feed, but this large group of geese were on a mission to continue their migration. After checking in with the other geese, they bee-lined north in huge, dark flocks until they appeared only as smudges in the sky.

“Wow, that was great,” Braden said.

Before heading home, we observed about 300 Tundra Swans on another pond, and then drove into the neighboring countryside, where we discovered about 10,000 Snow Geese feeding in fields. It was a great way to kick off spring, and the kind of experience that will keep us coming back year after year.

Fattening up in a farmer’s field before continuing north. (Photo by Sneed B. Collard III)