Category Archives: Ducks and Geese

Birding Glacier National Park in “The Hot, Dry Winter” of 2024

Our thoughts go to all of the Californians getting hammered by unprecedented rains right now, and we hope that you are all staying safe—and preferably indoors. While the Southwest is getting one historic climate event, Montana has been getting another: record heat and dryness. Both of these add a heightened sense of urgency to tackling climate change by reducing greenhouse emissions and promoting renewable energy. And, of course, these events are certainly impacting birds. Last week, I had a chance to explore one of our nation’s most pristine areas to see what the birds are doing.

Even before I moved to Montana in 1996, I had visions of visiting the Many Glacier Valley in the depths of winter. In college, I had spent the best summer of my life working as a cook at Swiftcurrent Motor Lodge, and had returned to the valley many times since then—but never in our darkest, coldest season. What would this wonderland be like covered in snow and ice? Last week, almost fifty years after working there, I got a chance to find out. The only thing missing? Winter itself.

I had been invited to spend four days visiting with pre-K through grade 1 students in Browning, Montana, a trip I looked forward to for many reasons, including the chance to learn more about Blackfeet culture and explore the area. As a bonus, I would be working mainly in the afternoons, freeing up the mornings for birding and other activities. As the librarian and I put together the trip, however, I never imagined that I would be visiting during an unprecedentedly warm winter in which temperatures were breaking records daily and the landscape stood almost devoid of snow.

On the drive to Browning, I stopped at the Freezeout Lake wetlands complex near Great Falls and counted several thousand Canada Geese and Mallards. To my surprise, the geese were flagged as rare on eBird for this time of year. Why? Because the lakes are almost always frozen in January and February, but this year large areas of open water shimmered, inviting both geese and ducks.

**The disturbing presence of open water at Freezeout Lake is attracting its share of Canada Geese and Mallards this “non-winter.”**

Reaching the outskirts of Browning, I turned right for a side trip to Cut Bank. In a normal winter, this entire area would be covered in snow, providing a chance to find Snowy Owls, Snow Buntings, and other typical winter birds. Not today. Driving mud and gravel back roads, I was lucky to find a solitary Rough-legged Hawk on a telephone pole. I did flush one group of 15 smaller birds that I assume were Horned Larks, but nothing else of note. In fact, the main birds I was seeing were the stalwart ravens, magpies, House Sparrows, starlings, and pigeons.

When Thursday rolled around, my birding hopes rose as I got up early and drove toward Babb, the entrance to the Many Glacier Valley on the east side of Glacier National Park. I had no idea how much of the road was open, but made it to the park boundary at Lake (reservoir) Sherburne dam. There, I parked and donned my camera and binoculars.

**The Lake Sherburne Reservoir at the Glacier National Park boundary, where I began my jaunt into the Many Glacier Valley.**

I couldn’t have asked for a more astonishing day. By 9:00 a.m., temps had reached into the mid-30s and were rising rapidly. Despite an extremely dry winter, a thin layer of snow covered the spectacular peaks of the continental divide and full sunlight created an unparalleled, dazzling landscape. As an extra “cherry,” a waning gibbous moon slowly sank toward 9,300-foot Mount Allen. I paused to take a deep breath and appreciate that I was probably the only person on earth observing this incredible scene. Then, I set out.

A raven greeted me as I stepped into the park, but I wondered if I would see any other animals. Would a grizzly bear be taking a mid-winter stroll on a day this warm? I didn’t know, but spotted no other critter as I walked half a mile along the reservoir. I didn’t have a great deal of time, so I turned around after 20 minutes, and as the day continued to warm, a few birds made an appearance. I heard Black-capped Chickadees and a woodpecker drumming in the distance. Then, a grouse burst out of some stunted aspen trees to my left. I desperately watched it flying away, looking for any ID clues, but alas, I just don’t know grouse well enough to be sure. The bird was gray, however, and the habitat was wrong for Ruffed and Spruce Grouse, rendering a 95% probability of Dusky Grouse, but since I wasn’t sure, I didn’t record it on eBird.

Despite the incredible scenery, I was feeling a bit thwarted bird-wise, and calculated that I had time for another hour of exploration, so I drove back out to Babb, turned left, and then left again on the road leading to the Canadian border and Waterton Lakes National Park. My mission? To find Boreal Chickadees! In fact, I was driving the very road where Braden and I had discovered our lifer BOCHs three years before (see post “Are you ready for . . . the QUACH?”). That had been during early covid days when hardly a soul traveled the road. Would I be able to find any birds today?

My first chickadee sighting along the road proved to be a mixed flock of Black-capped and Mountain Chickadees feeding on knapweed seed pods—perhaps for insect larvae. Cool, but not the object of my quest.

The road wound its way up through scenic pastures and aspen groves, climbing steadily until it reached conifers—all under the magnificent gaze of Chief Mountain. As before, I passed not a car along the way. I pulled over twice and played the calls of Boreal Chickadees, but no bird responded. Then, I actually saw a flock of chickadees up ahead and eagerly braked to a halt.

Not BOCHs. Instead, a mixed flock of Mountain and Black-capped Chickadees, with a Red-breasted Nuthatch joining them.

**One of Glacier’s most iconic mountains, Chief Mountain stands watch over the northeastern part of the park, including the road up to Waterton Lakes National Park.**

Undeterred, I continued, and soon stopped for another flock of Black-cappeds. I wondered how much exploring I had time for, but passed a Border Patrol truck and soon was forced to stop at the closed boundary of Glacier National Park. Turning around, I again parked to play a BOCH call with no luck. The Border Patrol truck approached and the agent rolled down his window for a chat. I told him what I was looking for and asked him if he saw many birds along this stretch. “Some Stellar’s Jays,” he answered, “but not a lot else.”

**I thought the road to Canada’s Waterton Lakes National Park might be open, but alas, no. Fortunately, the chickadees were on my side of the boundary!**

I wished him a good day and continued driving back toward Babb. Before the road began descending again, a large pull-out opened up on the left and I stopped one last time. Not expecting much, I played a BOCH song and made some pishing noises. Within moments, six chickadees surrounded me! Boreal Chickadees!

**With their curiosity and handsome features, Boreal Chickadees may just seize the title for Most Delightful Chickadees.**

The chickadees were much more curious about me than their congeners (animals in the same scientific genus, i.e. the Black-capped and Mountain Chickadees). The Boreal Chickadees flew back and forth above me and called from nearby branches. I even nabbed some decent photos. I spent ten or fifteen minutes with them, barely believing I was having such a great experience with these elusive, high-altitude and high-latitude songbirds. It once again renewed my appreciation for living and birding in Montana, since this region is one of the few places this species dips into the United States from its main distribution in Canada.

**This Boreal Chickadee might have been auditioning for the Chickadee Choir with how much it called to me.**

Feeling satisfied and grateful for such a marvellous morning, I headed back to Browning, spotting only a few ravens and Rough-legged Hawks along the way. No matter. The BOCHs and breathtaking views of the Many Glacier Valley had made this a day I would never forget. Now if we can only get some snow.

Oregon Birding Grandeur at Smith Rock State Park

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To help usher you into a (hopefully) fun and festive holiday week, we’re pleased to present our second guest post by FSB’s Oregon field correspondent, Roger Kohn. Roger recently retired from a storied career of government service, giving him much more time to pursue his birding passions with his birding wife, Claudia. Here, he takes us to a place Braden and I have never visited—Smith Rock State Park.

You all lead busy lives, so why not take a break to embark on a vicarious adventure with me to one of central Oregon’s most beautiful places?

Eager for some epic scenery and inspiration before the snow flies and temperatures plummet, my wife, Claudia, and I drove 40 minutes north of Bend to Smith Rock State Park last week. After snagging a parking spot (a blood sport at this uber-popular park), we were greeted by a few Black-billed Magpies — with their bold black, white, and blue markings and extra-long tails.

Walk with us to the rim of a deep canyon and take in the magnificent vista that opens up below you, where the Crooked River wends its way through a rugged landscape of sheer cliffs formed by volcanic eruptions, and hillsides dotted with western juniper trees. With temperatures in the high 40s, it is perfect walking weather as we begin a steep zigzag descent into the Realm of Peregrine Falcons and Golden Eagles. (Alas, we won’t see any today.) Keep some energy in reserve, because what goes down must go back up. Reaching the bottom, we cross the river on the brand-new pedestrian bridge that replaced its old and battered predecessor.

**The Crooked River flows through a stunning volcanic landscape.**

As we make our way upriver, the Merlin Sound ID app (a great tool, but know its limitations) alerts us to the likely presence of Canyon Wrens. This surprised me because while I heard bird calls, I did not hear the melodic, descending call notes that I have learned to associate with this striking wren species. But Merlin was spot-on and in a few minutes we see a couple of Canyon Wrens calling and hopping among the boulders on the rugged terrain above us. With their enchanting calls, long bills, warm rufous tones and gray heads speckled with white, Canyon Wrens are always a pleasure to observe, especially when one of them poses on a rock for a perfect photo opportunity.

**I learned that the call and song repertoire of the Canyon Wren is even more varied than I had realized.**

Continuing our walk along the river, we saw no ducks—at first. But soon a group of handsome Barrow’s Goldeneyes, a reliable species here, makes their appearance, diving below the surface to find food (and perhaps worry about their pending name change, following a recent announcement by the American Ornithological Society that names associated with people are gradually being replaced). The males of this species are easy to distinguish from very similar male Common Goldeneyes because the white patch on their face is crescent-shaped, not circular. As for the females, good luck with that, though female Barrow’s usually sport more orange or yellow on their bills than their Common counterparts. Your best clue is simply the presence of a male Barrow’s nearby. Later in our walk, Claudia focuses her binoculars on one male with a circular white patch. Great catch! There was at least one Common Goldeneye among the Barrow’s.

**At Smith Rock, you always have an excellent chance to see the elegant Barrow’s Goldeneye—with an attitude!**

All around us, hordes of robins make sure we know that thrushes rule. I don’t know what makes this species so successful, but on any given birding walk we see dozens of them. In one location two years ago, we saw THOUSANDS of them. True story.

Wait — did you hear that? What’s that high-pitched ti-ti-ti sound? Looking around in the junipers close to us, we see that a flock of Golden-crowned Kinglets has suddenly appeared out of nowhere, looking all fine and dandy (and they know it), with their spectacular yellow crowns with bold black stripes. These tiny birds can tolerate temperatures well below zero, and will huddle together for warmth to survive subzero weather. They are hyperactive and often forage high in the treetops, so they’re hard to see and even harder to photograph. But today we are lucky. The kinglets flit about at eye level, and I capture a few decent photos of this gorgeous species.

**We lucked out and got unobstructed eye level views of Golden-crowned Kinglets. What a treat!**

The river bends. Colorful canyon walls in shades of pale green, pink, and gold tower above us, rising straight up to dizzying heights. Rock climbers challenge themselves on tough routes, and we see some of them standing atop the highest cliffs, where normally only raptors dare to soar.

Get ready to feel the burn, though, because it’s time to hike up out of the canyon. Pausing at the bridge before our ascent, we get great looks at Golden-crowned Sparrows in a feeding bonanza in a re-seeded grassy area (see recent post, “Zoning Out on Zonotrichia Sparrows”). The breeding habits of this species in Alaska and British Columbia are not well known.

**It’s always a pleasure to observe Golden-crowned Sparrows when migration brings them through central Oregon.**

Up, up, up we go. We stop to rest as our hearts pound, and see a raptor far away, atop one of the highest cliffs on the other side of the river. Too far to ID, but photo processing later reveals a likely Red-tailed Hawk.

No matter how many times you visit, Smith Rock will take your breath away. It is a truly magical place.

Back home, I invite you to sip an Oregon-brewed pale ale with delicious citrusy, floral hop flavors and a lovely bready malt backbone as you bask in the glow of seeing some great birds in a landscape like no other.

eBird Checklist – 10 Nov 2023 – Smith Rock SP – 20 species (+1 other taxa)

All photos and text copyright Roger Kohn.

Birding with the President

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One of the fun parts of being a birder and a writer is being invited to speak to other groups of birders. This often entails travel to fun new locations and the opportunity to meet many wonderful people. Earlier this week, I had one such exceptional experience when I was invited to go birding with the President . . . of the Flathead Audubon Society.

Oh, did the title of this blog lead you to believe I got to bird with President Joe Biden? If so, I had no intention of misleading you. But no offense to Joe, I probably had much more fun birding with Flathead Audubon’s president, Darcy Thomas, and her husband, Rob. Flathead Audubon is one of the most active Montana Audubon chapters, serving both as a focal point for birders and bird science and conservation in northwest Montana. It has been involved in a number of invaluable projects including the Jewel Basin Hawk Watch and vital conservation and education projects in and around Kalispell. As the chapter’s new president, Darcy is employing her great energy and enthusiasm to keeping the group flying forward. (Find out more by visiting https://flatheadaudubon.org/.)

**La Presidente, herself: Darcy Thomas of the Flathead Audubon Society.**

Darcy and I had planned for me to speak to her chapter members Monday night, so I rose early that day and headed toward Kalispell to sneak in a day of birding with Darcy before my talk. My expectations were rather low as many species had already migrated through Montana, and high water in lakes and ponds made shorebirds unlikely. Still, I welcomed the chance to bird with Darcy on her own turf, and maybe learn some great new places to visit in the Kalispell area.

**Although I arrived at Duck Road with low expectations, the Savannah Sparrows put on a sparrow show like I had never experienced.**

On my drive up, I decided to make a quick stop at Duck Road just above Ninepipe National Wildlife Refuge. Over the years, this rural gravel road has been one of Braden’s and my favorite places to bird. We’ve observed about 100 species there including Sandhill Cranes, the occasional shorebird, and tons of raptors including my personal favorite, Short-eared Owls (see our post “250 Montana Birds or Bust!”). Today, the first thing I noticed were sparrows flitting everywhere. We usually get a few here, but today I seemed to pass a mini-flock every couple hundred yards. I pulled over for a closer look and discovered that they were Savannah Sparrows, obviously in mega-migration numbers. Driving about five miles, I counted more than 200 of these delightful critters. I also was surprised to hear a pair of Sandhill Cranes in the distance along with a Western Meadowlark enjoying our late warm weather. Rounding out the list: a Lesser Yellowlegs, an American Pipit, and a pair of especially charismatic Northern Harriers.

Northern Harriers rarely perch for a snapshot, but this beauty gave me a few seconds to record just how gorgeous they are. Note the “dish” or “cup” around the eye. Like many owls, Northern Harriers often hunt by sound, and the dishes help focus the tiniest sounds to the birds’ ears as they patrol fields and marshes.

I rendezvoused with Darcy in Somers, famous for being where Braden and I saw both our Lifer Snowy Owl (see our post “A Quest for Snowy Owls”) and Lifer Gyrfalcon (see our post “Payin’ Raptor Dues, Reapin’ Raptor Rewards”). I had told Darcy I was especially keen on finding shorebirds, and we hit one spot only to find it completely dry. Next, however, Darcy took me to Split Pond, where I picked up my first Horned Grebe of the Year. After that, we took scenic backroads over to Creston Wetlands, where birders had recently seen an extremely rare Montana visitor, a Hudsonian Godwit. Alas, the godwit had moved on, but the best part of our day was yet to come . . .

**Once again, if only eBird had a place to record mammals, this rare pygmy hippo sighting would have helped make Darcy and me famous!**

After collecting my trusty minivan, I followed Darcy back to her house, where her husband Rob had made us the perfect snack—tuna sliders! That fortified the three of us as Rob drove us to a Kalispell hotspot I’d always wanted to visit, the West Valley Ponds. About half a dozen ponds actually fill the area, but the road passes three major ones, and the first thing I learned is that in fall, the place becomes Sandhill Crane Central! Darcy told me that up to 500 or more cranes gather here to feed up on grain dropped in the surrounding farmers’ fields before they migrate south. At first, we saw only a handful, but the more we focused, the more cranes we saw! It was a real treat, and by far the most Sandhill Cranes I’d ever seen in one place in Montana.

**As we kept sharpening our focus, Sandhill Cranes seemed to appear everywhere in and around West Valley Ponds.**

Ducks are tough these days as they are in their generic “intermolt plumage”, but we managed to ID all three teals and American Wigeons, along with a quartet of Trumpeter Swans. As we were rounding a curve, though, I said, “Stop. Stop. Stop”, and as Rob pulled up, Darcy and I got our binoculars on a small bird wagging its tail and playing in a nearby puddle. “American Pipit!” I exclaimed. Though I’d seen one earlier in the day at Ninepipe, that had been at a distance, and I never get enough of these birds. They breed up in high alpine meadows and, in fact, Braden and I had seen my first high-altitude pipit at Logan Pass only a month ago. It was nice to see one down in the valley before it begins its fall migration to Arizona, Mexico, or even farther south.

I wondered if I would see an American Pipit today—and was not disappointed. The birds are gracing our lowlands as they migrate from their high-altitude breeding sites to their overwintering grounds farther south. **This was my first of two for the day, on Duck Road.**

Darcy and Rob saved the best for last. As we pulled up to the final pond, we climbed out to admire a mix of waterfowl and a flock of about 300 Red-winged and (at least) 4 Yellow-headed Blackbirds in a large bunch of cattails. Suddenly, a dark streak caught the corner of my eye. “Falcon!” I yelled and the three of us watched enthralled as the bird shot straight toward the cattails. All 300 of the blackbirds frantically took flight, some in the same direction the falcon was flying. We saw the falcon twist and turn trying to nab one, but at least this time, the blackbirds got the better of it.

**West Valley Ponds are one of the Kalispell area’s most productive and scenic places to bird—but today, they were also the site of a daring Peregrine Falcon attack!**

By this time you’re probably asking, But what kind of falcon was it? Often, I am unsure in these situations. Falcons appear and fly off so quickly that it’s sometimes difficult to get any kind of look. Darcy and I agreed, however, that this bird’s dark slate wings, large size, and powerful flight left no doubt that it was a Peregrine—my 237^th Montana bird for 2023. It was a great way to wrap my birding afternoon with the President, and provided a perfect prelude to my evening visit with the fun folks at Flathead Audubon.

Crane 1: “Hey, what’s Bernie doing over there in front of that hay bale?”
Crane 2: “Think we ought to go check it out?”
**Crane 3: “Heck yeah!”**

Festival Report: Wings Across the Big Sky 2023

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In my last post, I mentioned being on my way to Montana Audubon’s 2023 Wings Across the Big Sky festival in Great Falls. After birding Freezeout Lake and Choteau, I could feel my excitement grow. Not only would I get to meet a lot of other birders at the festival, I had been invited to lead two field trips to one of my favorite Montana places to bird: Benton Lake National Wildlife Refuge. Last year, I’d had one of my best birding days ever at Benton Lake, and a couple months later, Braden and I had followed that up with perhaps our best Montana shorebird day ever. What would this wonderful spot hold for us this time?

**The sharp eyes of our intrepid Saturday Benton Lake field crew let no bird escape our detection!**

Saturday, our trip got off to a good start when one of the participants told me about a Burrowing Owl right off the road leading up to the refuge. Driving my intrepid minivan, we turned right onto a muddy track—only to drive right under the owl without seeing it! Fortunately, the two cars behind us were more observant, and we all got great looks at this rarely seen animal before heading to the refuge. Turns out, we would glimpse another BUOW at the refuge itself—but it would be only one of many stars for the day.

I’d never seen a Burrowing Owl atop a telephone pole and as a result drove right under it. Fortunately, the folks following behind us spotted it.

Birding Benton Lake NWR entails two distinct phases: a grasslands phase and a wetlands phase, and today, neither one disappointed. Driving through grasslands on our way to the start of the main loop, we were rewarded with multiple looks at Willets, Marbled Godwits, Long-billed Curlews, and Upland Sandpipers. The Willets and curlews especially put on a show for us, circling around the visitor’s center parking lot, uttering their looping, haunting calls. Thanks to recent rains, the vegetation in the prairie sections seemed especially tall and that probably suppressed one of our main targets, the Chestnut-collared Longspurs, but other birds turned out in force, especially Horned Larks and Savannah Sparrows. When we’d almost reached the turn for the wetlands section, I spotted several large-bodied birds flying low across the horizon—Sharp-tailed Grouse!

No one I know gets tired of Long-billed Curlews, and they’ve become a reliable bird for Braden and me at Benton Lake NWR.

With more water in them, the wetlands ponds sported a different mix of birds than last year. We counted 13 species of ducks, more than twice what I saw last year, but none in huge numbers. Wilson’s Phalaropes were present, but in smaller numbers than last year. While I’d counted 220 American Avocets and 20 Black-necked Stilts last year, today we saw neither species. Fortunately, the Franklin’s Gull colony appeared healthy and intact with at least 1,000 birds, as did the smaller number of White-faced Ibises. I worried when we didn’t see our dependable Black-crowned Night Heron colony—until one of our intrepid crew spotted one when we walked out to the end of the boardwalk during our early lunch break.

**Franklin’s Gulls dominate a whole section of Benton Lake—including, at times, laying claim to the roadway.**

Undoubtedly, one of the stars of the day were the Eared Grebes, who had constructed hundreds of raised nests in the “upper” pond. In fact, our little caravan stopped to break out our spotting scopes and admire this incredible sight for at least ten or fifteen minutes. On our way out, we passed the tree where Braden and I had enjoyed nesting Swainson’s Hawks multiple times over the years. Sure enough, a SWHA parent sat dutifully on a branch watching us as we slowly lumbered by.

It was a great treat to again visit the refuge the following day and I wondered how these two visits would compare. The verdict? Pretty similar. On Sunday we missed the Sharp-tailed Grouse—but again saw the Burrowing Owl, placidly sitting in the middle of the road. We missed the pair of Black Terns we’d seen the day before—but saw far more Forster’s Terns, and finally spotted a lone Black-necked Stilt along with a single Sandhill Crane.

**From a distance, I assumed all of these dark spots out on the water were ducks. Our crew was delighted to discover that most of them were Eared Grebes sitting on nests!**

We wrapped up Sunday’s visit by pulling over at a section of the road with shorter grass, and sure enough, soon spotted a couple of Chestnut-collared Longspurs, doing flight displays above their territories. But my favorite sighting came a few moments later, when we all turned our binoculars on a buteo hawk circling high overhead. The bird had unusual coloring, and we debated what it could be. Swainson’s? Red-tailed? An uncommon Broad-winged Hawk? Finally, my co-pilot for the day, Kevin Cox, called the correct ID: Ferruginous Hawk! I was thrilled. I usually see a FEHA in Montana every year, but it’s not a guarantee—and to see it out in such a glorious spot, and on such a glorious day, and in the company of so many people who appreciated it, well, that perfectly crowned a very memorable festival.

Click here for Saturday’s eBird checklist.

**This Ferruginous Hawk was the perfect bird to cap off a wonderful festival weekend!**

Note: The 2024 Wings Across the Big Sky festival will be held in Helena, Montana, which I’ve always considered to be the best home base for birding in Montana. No matter where you live, I hope you’ll plan on attending, either the first or second weekend in June. You won’t regret it!

Birding Japan: Kyoto

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Since we published them, our birding posts about Japan have been read in more than a dozen countries. If you are planning your own trip to Japan, you’re in luck! Sneed’s new book, FIRST-TIME JAPAN: A STEP-BY-STEP GUIDE FOR THE INDEPENDENT TRAVELER, tells you everything you need to know about how to plan your trip to this remarkable, yet sometimes intimidating, country. Order now by clicking here.

Welcome to Part 3 of Sneed’s recent Japan adventure. If you missed the first couple of Japan posts, start here. As always, we appreciate your interest, and please share these with anyone you think will enjoy them.

Our journey to Kyoto gave us one last chance to ride the Enoshima Electric Railway, the adorable little train Tessa and I both fell in love with during our long, rainy weekend in Kamakura. In fact, Japan’s train system is so well thought-out that we simply rode the EER to the end of the line in Fujisowa to catch the Tokaido train to Odawara. There, we boarded the shinkansen (bullet train) for the two-hour ride to Kyoto. Easy peasy. I have to say, however, that Kyoto Station was quite a bit more confusing than Tokyo or any of the other stations we’d visited, but fortunately I knew which subway to catch to our accommodation, a rather modern version of a traditional Japanese inn, or ryokan. As far as I can tell, there’s no perfect location to stay in Kyoto, but our place was only an 8-10 minute walk to two different subway stations. Even better, it was close to what turned out to be a wonderful birding spot, the Kamo River—a place that Tessa and I would return to several times.

Our first look at Kyoto’s Kamo River convinced us to return as often as possible. Kyoto’s birds felt the same way!

Our first full day in Kyoto, I planned for us to visit Fushimi Inari Taisha, a shrine famous for its hundreds (thousands?) of red “torii” gates straddling the paths leading up the mountain. Conveniently, to catch the train to the shrine, we got to walk along the Kamo River. It was a glorious day and many others were out enjoying the sunshine and blooming sakura trees. For my part, I also couldn’t help noticing a lot of birds enjoying the relatively unkempt river bed—including a real surprise, Common Merganser, a duck that we often see in our rivers in Montana!

A pair of Common Mergansers greatly surprised me in Kyoto.

We finished Fushimi Inari Taisha early enough that we decided to go ahead and visit Kyoto’s Imperial Palace and the surrounding Kyoto Gyoen National Garden. The palace was impressively, well, palatial and I was hoping for some excellent birding in the gardens. The over-manicured park, however, once again limited its attractiveness to only the hardiest of species. I did run into a nice little mixed flock that contained a Warbling White-eye, Long-tailed Tit, and my lifer Japanese Bush Warbler, but have to say that I was disappointed overall. Nothing that a big bowl of steaming hot ramen at Ichiran Ramen didn’t cure!

As Kyoto’s Imperial Palace demonstrates, Japanese architects knew what they were doing. If only the places hadn’t burned down every 20 or 30 years!

The next morning, after hitting Kyoto Station to reserve shinkansen tickets for the upcoming legs of our trip, we rode a JR local train out to Arashiyama. Tessa had especially been wanting to visit a bamboo grove, and a large, famous one grew here. We also visited Kameyama Park, located at the mouth of the Katsura River gorge. The sakura were especially wonderful here and, well, the birds turned out to be pretty great, too! As we strolled the gorgeous grounds, I saw a Warbling White-eye and the complete triumvirate of tits: Japanese, Varied, and Long-tailed. Just saying the word “tit” provokes giggles but these birds are essentially the Old World version of chickadees. They look like chickadees. They behave like chickadees. Just as in the States, if you see a tit, chances are other interesting birds are lurking nearby, so I am always happy to spot one.

Kameyama Park is the only place I managed to convince Tessa to give the peace sign for a photo—something almost mandatory for the Japanese!

Following the trails down to the river, we encountered a nice collection of ducks and my first-ever Japanese Wagtail and House Swift! By this time, large crowds had gathered to enjoy the sunshine and sights, so after a quick bite at a local food stand, we high-tailed it back to our ryokan. Our birding in Kyoto was not quite finished, however. I managed two more sessions at Kamo River, the final one the evening before our departure. Tessa was chilling in our room after a busy day of seeing Nijo Castle and the Manga Museum, and doing some gift shopping in Teramachi-dori, one of the expansive covered street malls that seem to be popular in Japan. I had some extra energy so decided on taking one last visit to the river.

My lifer Japanese Wagtail at Kameyama Park. I actually had probably seen one at the Kamo River earlier, but it took me a while to tease out the differences in markings with White Wagtails.

It was a lovely afternoon, and hundreds of Kyoto residents were out taking advantage of it. I walked downstream, enjoying the Black Kites flying overhead and Gray Herons, Great and Little Egrets, Great Cormorants, ducks, and Japanese and White Wagtails along the river. One thing I’d sorely missed on the trip were any kind of shorebirds, but suddenly I saw a suspicious bird standing on a rock across the river. From eBird quizzes I’d taken, I immediately guessed that my shorebird drought might be at an end and that this could be a Common Sandpiper. I was too far away to get a good look at the bill, though, and it seemed too short. That was good because it forced me to call up the Merlin app and dive deeper into the Common Sandpiper’s ID features. Two things stuck out: COSAs had a prominent white “spur” at the shoulder and they often bobbed their tails like wagtails. I again focused my binoculars. “Yep,” I said out loud. “That’s a Common Sandpiper!” Just a few minutes later I saw yet another bird sitting on a rock in the river—this one a Gray Wagtail, completing the “Wagtail Trilogy” for the trip. Neither the Common Sandpiper nor Gray Wagtail were lifers for me, but they brought my Japan bird list up to 47 species. More important, they were an awesome way to finish up our time in Kyoto.

Throughout Japan, I enjoyed Black Kites, but they put on a special show along the Kamo River.

More, much more, lay in store.

Sneed’s Kameyama Park eBird checklist.

Sneed’s final Kamo River eBird checklist.

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