Category Archives: eBird

Birding Barcelona, Part 2: In Search of the Greater Flamingo

Braden and I write FatherSonBirding in the hopes of sharing the wonders of birds and birding, and the urgency to protect them. We do not accept advertising or donations, but if you’d like to support our work, please consider buying *NEW* copies of some of Sneed’s books—First-Time Japan, for instance, or my recent Orbis Pictus Award winner, Border Crossings. We appreciate your interest and hope you will keep reading!

When birding big cities I’ve discovered that it often requires a bit of extra effort to reach even a highly modified natural area. That proved true last year when my daughter and I visited Japan (see “Birding Japan: Kanazawa”), and it once again proved to be the case when my wife and I recently visited Barcelona. After birding city parks and tourist sites all week, I had barely breached 30 bird species total—far short of my goal of 50 or 60 species (see “Birding Barcelona, Part 1: The Urban Core”). I had a plan to help rectify the situation—but it was going to take that extra bit of effort to realize it.

On the last full day of our trip, I rose early, wolfed down some yoghurt, and hailed a cab in front of our hotel. In my mediocre Spanish, I explained to Isabella, my driver, where I wanted to go and even showed her the place on Google Maps. She knew about the area and had even been there, so we set out toward the airport in a light drizzle.

When visiting Barcelona, the best chance for a birder to enjoy some natural habitat—and an abundance of birds—is to take a taxi out to the Espais Naturals del Delta del Llobregat near the Barcelona Airport.

My destination was the “Espais Naturals del Delta del Llobregat,” which I’ll just call “Llobregat” for simplicity. Llobregat was a wetland divided into two parts, one on either side of the Barcelona airport, and the reason it existed at all was no doubt due to the fact that you can’t build huge buildings where giant aircraft can run into them. I thank the travel gods for that because these wetlands were the only orange-colored (high species count) hotspots anywhere near the city of Barcelona.

I asked Isabella to drop me off at the area on the far (western) side of the airport, and twenty minutes later found myself standing utterly alone on a road that appeared to lead into the natural area. Turns out, Isabella could have driven me another mile closer to the main action, but that error turned out to be a good thing. As I walked down the road, I began hearing all kinds of bird vocalizations and soon Merlin’s Sound ID picked up a new lifer for me, Cetti’s Warbler, calling from the thick reeds on both sides of the road. Sound ID also picked up Green Sandpiper, which got me really excited because shorebirds were at the top of my list to see on this, my sole real birding outing, of the trip. As I walked, I also saw what would be my only raptors of the trip—three Western Marsh-Harriers—and some high-flying swallow-type birds that turned out to be Eurasian Crag-Martins. I got occasional glimpses at a canal to my left, but saw only Mallards, a pair of Gadwalls, and a Gray Heron in it.

Half an hour later, I arrived at Llobregat’s official entrance and was relieved to see a series of established trails that led to various bird blinds around the reserve. As I followed the first trail, Common Chiffchaffs, Black Redstarts, European Robins, European Serins, and White Wagtails hopped and fluttered around me, but my excitement didn’t spike until I entered the first birding blind.

**I had worried that I might miss Greater Flamingos in Spain, but a couple of dozen greeted me at Llobregat. Note how pale they are. Evidently, they are not getting enough crustaceans in their diets!**

It took me about five seconds to locate the birds I most wanted to see—Greater Flamingos. But they just formed the tasty appetizer to the huge variety of waterfowl before me. This included many familiar ducks familiar from back home: Northern Shovelers, Gadwalls, Mallards, and the Eurasian variety of Green-winged Teal (which may eventually get split into a new species).

I just love the unique looks of Eurasia’s Green-winged Teals, which have a distinctively different appearance than our North American versions. I hope the taxonomic splitters pounce on them and declare them a distinct species.

The ducks that really got me going, though, were new for my life list: Common Shelducks and a pair of Red-crested Pochards that was doing its best to avoid eye contact on a distant island! I had hoped to see both of these, but had tempered my expectations. No worries—there they were, and in company of a lone Eurasian Wigeon.

Ka-ching! **Life Bird #1007!** **Common Shelduck in the company of a pretty fetching Mallard!**

As I sat enjoying the duck show, I also noted Eurasian Coots and Moorhens, along with a delightful pair of Little Grebes, all of which I had seen in Japan almost a year earlier. As I scanned the pond, I also saw something quickly dive into the reeds at the edge of the pond. I strongly suspect that this was a Water Rail, but reacted just a moment too slow to get my binoculars on it.

If you look at this photo carefully, you will see a number of charismatic Spanish species: Graylag Goose, Eurasian Wigeon, and my lifer Red-crested Pochards. The latter two are reported infrequently this time of year.

After about thirty minutes, I continued onto another viewing area. On the way, I passed a plywood wall with a few viewing windows cut into it and happened to take a quick peek. A largish purplish bird stuck out and my first thought was “Eurasian Moorhen.” Then, I did a double-take. “Hold on. Moorhens aren’t that blue—nor do they have bright red bills and legs!” The bird before me was one I had been studying on eBird quizzes, but darned if I could remember the name of it. Scrolling through eBird, I quickly found it: Western Swamphen! Even better, it had two adorable fuzzy black chicks with it!

I had not expected to see such a bird in my wildest dreams and it didn’t stay visible for long—just long enough for me to take a couple of modest photos—before disappearing into the reeds. And that, apparently, is typical for this bird, a species that rarely makes an appearance even where it might be fairly common. It immediately leaped to the top of my Trip Bird list, where it would remain for the rest of our vacation and beyond.

**Earning Bird of the Trip honors, this rare sighting of a Western Swamphen put a lasting grin on my face. That black “shadow” to its left is actually one of two chicks accompanying it.**

After more bird blind fun, I walked out to the beach in the hopes of seeing shorebirds. No dice. In fact, I didn’t see a single shorebird my entire morning, one of the trip’s big disappointments. I asked the interpreter about it and he confirmed that there hadn’t been many shorebirds around the entire year. Alas, I later discovered that the other section of the wetlands, on the east side of the airport, had been getting some. Nonetheless, I sat down on a jetty, breathed in the salt air of the Mediterranean, and enjoyed some bread and cheese while watching the giant jets taking off to almost every continent in the world. Then, I began making my way back down the long access road, happy with the day despite the shorebird miss.

My morning at Llobregat nabbed me 33 species—as many as I’d seen in the previous five days in Barcelona. It pushed my world life list to 1011 species. It also pushed my trip list to 49 species—one short of my goal of 50 species. “Shoot,” I thought, riding a taxi back downtown. “Where can I go near our hotel to pick up one more species?” I hadn’t a clue, and quietly resigned myself to this epic failure that would mar my reputation and confidence the rest of my life and cast shame upon my friends and family.

**More Flamingo fun. These birds sat atop my list of birds I wanted to see in Barcelona and at Llobregat, they did not disappoint.**

That evening, Amy—who had spent the day shopping and visiting the Picasso Museum—and I decided to take a walk before our last Barcelona supper. She hadn’t yet visited Parc de la Ciutadella (see my previous post “Birding Barcelona, Part 1: The Urban Core”), so we strolled over there. We reached the pond where they rented rowboats and decided to go for it. I handed over six Euros and we climbed in, joining a huge assortment of merry locals and tourists. Black-headed and Yellow-legged Gulls, Graylag Geese, Gray Herons, and Mallards surrounded us. Monk and Rose-ringed Parakeets squawked overhead. I smiled. This was a perfect way to wrap up the trip.

Then, I spotted a small bird sally out from the edge of the pond and return to land on a rock. From similar sightings in Taiwan, Israel, and Japan, I knew immediately what it was. “Gray Wagtail!” I exclaimed! Just as in Japan, it was the only GRWA I had seen, and it pushed my trip list to 50 species.

I swear, you can’t make this guano up.

**Ciutadella’s popular rowing pond—and site of the trip’s sole Gray Wagtail.**

Gambling on a Grouse-fecta

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FatherSonBirding is a totally free, non-commercial blog that Braden and I write to share our passion for birds and birding, and to help educate others about birds and bird conservation. We do not accept donations, but if you would like to support us in our endeavors, please consider purchasing *new copies* of one or more of Sneed’s books—the new picture book Border Crossings, for example. These books are widely available online or can be ordered from your local independent bookstore. Oh, and they make great holiday gifts! Thank you for your support.

Many of you have followed my woeful failure to see a Spruce Grouse since I began birding ten years ago. This has brought endless shame to my family and led me to self-medicate with copious quantities of chocolate, exploding my waistline and making it difficult to hold up my head (and pants) in the Montana birding community (see our post “Fall Birding in Glacier National Park”).

I have rendered myself such a pitiful specimen of a birder that several of you have kindly reached out with compassionate suggestions of where I might finally find a Spruce Grouse so that I could regain a shred of self-esteem. I had dutifully begun making plans to pursue these suggestions—when I saw that accomplished Lake County birder Braydon Luikart (not to be confused with my son, Braden) had sighted some SPGRs relatively close to me. I contacted Braydon to see if he might be up for a Spruce Grouse expedition, and he cautiously accepted, no doubt wondering if it might damage his birding career to be associated with such a “grouse failure” as myself.

**Though he could at first be confused with my own son, Braydon Luikart is no relation—but generously agreed to lend his terrific birding skills to my search for a Spruce Grouse.**

I picked up Braydon at his house at 8 a.m. as a crescent moon rose into a growing dawn, and he led me to a logging road across from Finley Point on Flathead Lake. In no time, we were climbing up the breathtaking face of the Mission Mountains. Finding a Spruce Grouse sat foremost in our minds, but we began musing that if fortune shined down on us, we might find all three possible grouse: Ruffed, Dusky, and Spruce! This especially appealed to me because—and I don’t know if I should even admit this—I hadn’t seen ANY of them in 2023. I’d spotted almost all of the other game birds in Montana including Greater Sage-Grouse, Sharp-tailed Grouse, and even White-tailed Ptarmigan, but the three in my own backyard? Nada. Zilch. Rien. Shum davar.

Our idea to win the “grouse-fecta” got off to a great start when, after the first five miles, Braydon hollered “Stop! Dusky Grouse!” I hit the brakes of my wife’s CRV which, on Braydon’s sage advice, I’d borrowed in favor of the minivan. “Where?” I asked, already reaching for my camera. Braydon pointed at five chicken-sized birds scurrying up into the brush.

**This female Dusky Grouse kicked off our potential “grouse-fecta” in fine style. Note the color and pattern differences from the female Spruce Grouse below.**

Fortunately, grouse tend to be pretty unreactive, placing far too much faith on their amazing camouflage to escape detection. Four of the grouse made their way into photo-unfriendly territory, but the fifth, a female, posed attractively on a stump. This allowed me to capture one of my best Dusky Grouse photos ever, and afterward, I happily climbed back into the car.

“One down, two to go,” I said.

We continued climbing switchbacks past smoldering stumps and log piles—efforts to reduce slash after recent logging and a forest fire several years ago. At around 5,700 feet, Braydon said, “I hear a Boreal Chickadee.” To be honest, this was almost as exciting as a possible Spruce Grouse. Only the week before, Braydon had been the first person ever to confirm and photograph Boreal Chickadees in Lake County! As for me, I had never seen one outside of Glacier National Park. (See our post “Are You Ready for . . . the QUACH?”)

**The week before our expedition, Braydon became the first person to confirm and photograph Boreal Chickadees in Lake County, Montana. Fortunately, we saw them again on our outing!** **(Photo courtesy of Braydon Luikart)**

We scrambled out of the car and quickly found ourselves in a wonderful mixed flock of both Boreal and Mountain Chickadees, Golden-crowned Kinglets, Red-breasted Nuthatches, Canada Jays, and one of my favorite mixed-flock birds—the secretive Brown Creeper. With my new hearing aids (more on that in another post), I could pick up more call details than I’d heard in years, and Braydon managed a great photo of a BOCH that briefly alighted on the end of a branch. “But where are the Spruce Grouse?” Braydon lamented as we continued picking our way around rocks and slash down the muddy road. “They were all over here last week.”

**I don’t think I’ve ever gotten a good photo of a Brown Creeper—but am always delighted to find one! They commonly accompany mixed-species flocks, but are often overlooked.**

I tried to be philosophical. “I probably just haven’t put in enough time looking for them,” I said. “The grouse gods have not yet deemed me worthy.” Unfortunately, the road continued to deteriorate, with puddles the size of small lakes appearing in front of us. I powered through several of these, but about 18 miles in, I finally began fearing the wrath of my wife Amy if I had to abandon her car in a deep muddy lake in the middle of the mountains. Reluctantly, I performed a five-point turn and we headed back toward civilization. “We’re going to see Spruce Grouse on the way back,” I said, but didn’t really believe it.

We continued to keep our eyes out, but relaxed into conversation about birds, careers, and life. I learned that Braydon is taking a gap semester after high school and plans to pursue a career in wildlife, probably after a degree from the University of Montana. In fact, Braydon asked a number of questions about my son Braden’s plans and what made him choose the University of Maine. As we were chatting amiably, however, I rounded a corner—and saw three shapes fifty yards ahead of us.

I slammed the brakes. “Grouse!”

“Spruce Grouse!” Braydon confirmed.

**As spectacular as male Spruce Grouse are, I gotta say I just love the patterns on this female.**

Sure enough, two females and a male lifted their heads in surprise as we stopped. Unfortunately, as we cautiously got out of the car with our cameras and binoculars, the male and a female ambled into the scrub—but the other female seemed completely unperturbed by our presence. In fact, as we crept forward, the other female joined her, allowing us great photos of both birds. I was especially glad of that because I hadn’t realized how gorgeous the females truly are. As usual, most attention goes to the males, but these females displayed striking stripes and almost golden rufous patterning. True, I would have liked to see a breeding male, but I felt exultant. Not only had The Curse of the Spruce Grouse been vanquished forever, this bird was 998 on my Life List—only two birds away from that magical number 1,000. (See our recent post “From One Nemesis Bird to Another.”)

Elated, we again lapsed into lively conversation as we continued down the road. Only a couple of miles later, however, Braydon again exclaimed, “Stop!” I saw immediately what he was looking at, but it looked suspiciously like a rock.

It wasn’t.

**Strike a pose! This handsome, if overdressed, male Spruce Grouse—my first ever—evidently mistook me for the casting agent of Project Grouse-way.**

There, in the middle of the road, sat another Spruce Grouse—a resplendent male. Even better, this one didn’t flee as we climbed out of the car, and we were able to walk to within twenty yards of it, getting some great photos. After a few minutes, the bird decided it would rather view us from above, so with a few quick flaps of its wings, it skedaddled into a space between two spruce trees. There it stayed, giving us more decent photos before we left it in peace and headed back down the mountain.

**After flying up into the trees, this male Spruce Grouse kept a curious eye on us.**

Alas, we were still one grouse short of our “grouse-fecta”—a Ruffed Grouse. Still, I felt optimistic. Ruffies live down at lower elevations, often in riparian areas, so our chances would improve as we made our way back down to Flathead Lake. We rounded corner after corner expecting to see one—alas to no avail. Our bookie walked away with our fat grouse-fecta bets, an important lesson in getting too grouse-timistic. Braydon, though, redeemed this minor setback by locating one of the first Pacific Loons of the year on nearby Flathead Lake. The bird preened far out on the water, but its gray head clearly showed itself—a wonderful bonus in a day I would long remember.

Fall Birding in Glacier National Park

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Last week, after speaking at the monthly meeting of Flathead Audubon (see post “Birding with the President”), I spent the night with my gracious hosts, Darcy and Rob Thomas, and rose at 5 a.m. for a birding excursion to Glacier National Park. Powered by an egg and sausage burrito from City Brew, I made it to the park by 7:00 and rumbled and bumped my way up Inner North Fork Road. Braden, Nick Ramsey, and I had been here only five weeks before on a quest to find me a Lifer Spruce Grouse, and guess what? I was still on that quest! Today, though, I decided to try a different route, the Camas Creek Trail that leads east toward the heart of the park. I arrived to find the little parking area totally empty and, after strapping on my fanny pack, and slinging my camera and binoculars over my shoulders, set out under a dawn sky.

**Sunrise at Camas Meadow. Need I say more?**

Entering a patch of woods, I walked quietly and raised my senses to full alert. I didn’t want to scare away a Spruce Grouse along the trail, but I also wanted to spot a grizzly bear before it spotted me! Of course, park officials recommend hiking noisily to alert bears to your presence, but for birders this obviously is a counterproductive strategy. Bear spray would probably have been a good idea, but as usual I forgot to bring any. Within a quarter mile of the trailhead, however, I got a good scare.

I was rounding a bend with some trees on the right when suddenly a large shape launched from a branch and spread enormous gray wings. Owl! my brain shouted as my heart hammered, but which kind? The park contained only two large-owl possibilities: Great Gray and Great Horned. I hurried forward, trying to see where it was headed, but failed miserably. Without ever facing toward me, it disappeared through some trees, never to be seen again. My gut and the length of the owl’s wings tells me it was a Great Gray Owl but I will never know. Sigh.

After that startling start, my hike settled down. I reached Camas Meadow just as the sun began peeking over the Continental Divide and savored being absolutely alone in one of the world’s most beautiful places. I got here so early that the birds were off to a slow start. I saw a few flitting around, and Merlin’s Sound ID feature informed me that they were Pine Siskins and Yellow-rumped Warblers. It also told me that the chickadees I was hearing were Mountain Chickadees. Other than that, the action languished.

**Despite this rather poor image, one of the highlights of my Camas Meadow trail hike was the abundance of Yellow-rumped Warblers fattening up for migration.**

Fortunately, that held true on the grizzly bear front, too. I passed some scat, but it looked like black bear poop (smaller, full of berries, less messy), and was old to boot. In fact, I passed few fruiting plants relative to other places I’d recently visited in western Montana—a fact that might bode poorly for possible grouse sightings.

I hiked for about two, two-and-a-half miles, before pausing for a drink of water and, reluctantly, turning around. Fortunately, as I began retracing my route, rising temperatures seemed to lead to greater bird activity. Most impressive were the number of Yellow Warblers. I tallied at least 30, but am sure I undercounted. Their chips sprung from many locations, and I also spotted a couple of Ruby-crowned Kinglets (one boldly displaying its red crown), Dark-eyed Juncos, and Pine Siskins. An occasional Northern Flicker called sharply overhead.

I was surprised to spot this Red-naped Sapsucker in Glacier. I hadn’t realized they hung around Montana quite so long!

About halfway back to the car, I saw a small brown bird flitting about in a bush. Its furtive skulking behavior distinguished it from the other birds I’d been seeing, so I stopped and raised my binoculars, waiting for a clear look. It took a few moments, but it finally showed itself—a Lincoln’s Sparrow! One day, Braden and I will have to list our Top 10 Favorite Sparrows, but for me, Lincoln’s is Number One. Not only does it display a gorgeous, subtle color palette, it seems to have a more curious, delightful nature than other sparrows. When Braden and I began birding almost a decade ago, a Lincoln’s Sparrow was the first sparrow that really made a big impression on me. We devoted several outings to the chase before finally seeing one, so maybe its uncommonness also has something to do with my ranking.

**This delightful Lincoln’s Sparrow captured “Bird of the Hike” honors for my visit to Camas Meadow.**

After spending a few minutes with Mr. Lincoln’s, I continued hiking. A Red-naped Sapsucker surprised me. Then, I heard a series of eerie whooping noises that reminded me a bit of an Osprey. “What the heck?” I muttered. Then I saw it: a Canada Jay swooping in for a landing high in a nearby tree. A couple of other CAJAs also appeared. The jays, one of my favorite corvids, always delight with their antics and these provided a great way to wrap up my hike. Yes, I had once again missed a Spruce Grouse, but I’d gotten a good sense for what’s going on with the birds in Glacier this time of year. That was invaluable knowledge in my continuing education as a birder. It also happened to make a real contribution to science in the park.

**I had no idea what was making that eerie looping call—until I saw this Canada Jay fly to a nearby treetop.**

Returning home, I looked up how many eBird checklists have been posted for Camas Creek Trail in the fall. To my astonishment, mine was only the second ever checklist for September! (The other list, from later in the month, noted only three species.) A couple of lists have been posted later, but my own provides the only eBird data for this interesting time of year. Now I know this sounds like boasting, but I mention it to emphasize two important facts:

Even though birding has been around a long time, HUGE gaps remain in what we know about almost every bird species, its movements, and habits.
Your citizen science contributions matter. Sometimes it’s a pain or inconvenient to post what you see on eBird, but you just never know when you will be providing crucial information to a scientist or policy expert wanting to learn something new or make an important decision.

And really, could it get any better? Contributing to knowledge while being out having a great time? I don’t think so. Just keep an eye out for those grizzly bears.

Bear Canyon—Montana’s “Tropical Birding” Paradise

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With this post, I am officially back from Japan—and loving the spring birding around Montana. In this episode, I revisit one of our favorite Montana places to bird, Bear Canyon. As is often the case, I was hot on the heels of one of my nemesis birds, Sagebrush Sparrow. Thanks for following along—and Happy Mother’s Day and Global Big Day!

When I shared my most recent Montana birding list with my friend, Roger, he joked, “Does Montana have secret tropical zones I’m not aware of?” I answered, “It does. It’s called Bear Canyon.”

In all honesty, to call Bear Canyon tropical is a stretch, but it may be the state’s best example of the Big Basin habitat that dominates much of the interior West—and it’s probably the best place to pick up “southern leaning” species that are truly elusive elsewhere in the state. These include Blue-gray Gnatcatcher, Gray Flycatcher, Sage Thrasher, Pinyon Jay, and my nemesis bird, Sagebrush Sparrow. When I was invited for some speaking events in the Billings area in early May, in fact, Bear Canyon immediately popped to mind. Studying the eBird bar charts it looked I might be a tad early for some of the species there—but that didn’t stop me from going for it. I was on the road from Billings by 6:30 and pulled up to a rocky parking spot at the mouth of the canyon just before 8:30. Two gorgeous Lark Sparrows greeted me as I parked. A good omen.

View looking down toward the mouth of Bear Canyon—truly one of Montana’s magical places.

As I hiked up and over a small hump into the canyon, the birds wasted no time revealing themselves. A Rock Wren—my first of the year—belted out its scratchy, repetitive song from the top of a juniper tree, and almost immediately, another song caught my attention. I punched in Sound ID and pumped my fist. “Yeah! Gray Flycatcher!” Moments later, I observed the bird a hundred yards away—the first of half a dozen Gray Flycatchers I would see that morning. Sound ID also recorded Brewer’s Sparrows and Green-tailed Towhees, but since I don’t know their calls and didn’t see either one, I didn’t record them. It also picked up my nemesis, Sagebrush Sparrow—but I think that was an error since to my knowledge they are rarely reported in the canyon itself.

**Seeing Gray Flycatchers was a treat, but to have one pose a reasonably short distance away added greatly to the experience.**

A host of other birds also showed including Chipping Sparrows, Mountain Bluebirds, Mountain Chickadees, and Vesper Sparrows—but that still left some big misses including Blue-gray Gnatcatchers (too early) and Pinyon Jays (probably off in another canyon). Still, it was a spectacular morning, and Bear Canyon was about as pretty a place I could ever hope to have all to myself.

A pair of Mountain Bluebirds definitely added a splash of color to the sagebrush country.

After two hours, I returned to the car and moved onto the next phase of my day—searching for Sage Thrashers and Sagebrush Sparrows. Driving south down a dirt road from the canyon, I remembered Braden’s advice to get out and actually walk through the sagebrush if I really wanted to find the sparrow. I dutifully did this three times. The first time, a jackrabbit about scared the sagebrush out of me! However, I also was rewarded with actual looks at the Brewer’s Sparrows I had been hearing in Bear Canyon proper, which was great. In fact it was the first time I actually got to study these handsome, but subtle, birds and watch them sing.

As drab as they are, Brewer’s Sparrows truly are gorgeous when you give them a close look. They are closely related to Clay-colored Sparrows, a species I have yet to see in 2023. Hey, that rhymes!

My second walk revealed more Brewer’s Sparrows, along with numerous Vesper Sparrows, Horned Larks, and Western Meadowlarks that inundated the area.

Which brings me to my third walk—and you’re going to guess that’s when I finally found a Sagebrush Sparrow, right? Alas, no. As I was walking back toward the car, however, a large bird suddenly burst into the air right in front of me. Its wings sounded like a helicopter. I immediately knew it was some kind of grouse, and guessed it was a Greater Sage-Grouse. Watching it fly away through binoculars, though, I just couldn’t be sure. Darn, I thought. That would have been super cool. Only a few footsteps later, though, SIX of the big birds leaped out of the sage and thundered away—and this time there was no doubt. I caught bold black and white head markings on a couple of the grouse, and even more revealing, black bellies on most of them. I was elated! This was the first time I’d seen Greater Sage-Grouse since birding with Nick and Braden six years before and to find them on my own, well, it felt like an accomplishment.

**I haven’t talked much about it much, but this was some of the best country ever for Western Meadowlarks and Vesper Sparrows—and pretty decent for Horned Larks, too.**

Disappointingly, I saw not a trace of Sage Thrasher, a bird Braden and I had seen here in numbers only three years before. According to the eBird bar charts, they should have been here, too. And the Sagebrush Sparrow? Well, to be honest, I didn’t expect to find one of those on my own. After all, it was a nemesis bird, right? Still, I clung to the memories of the Greater Sage-Grouse as I continued driving down the dirt road, and just tried to appreciate the magnificent sagebrush and snow-covered mountains around me.

Eventually, the road connected with a larger dirt road, and I turned right. I could see the highway up ahead, but coming around a corner I spotted a small bird landing on a bush fifty yards away. Better look, I told myself. I parked the car and whipped my binoculars to my eyes.

Then, I started to get excited.

The bird definitely looked like a sparrow, but with a darker head. It was partly obscured by a branch, so I took a few steps to the left, praying it wouldn’t fly away. It didn’t. And that was enough to confirm it—my first and only Sagebrush Sparrow!

**AT LAST! Right when I’d about given up hope, a gorgeous adult Sagebrush Sparrow decided I’d worked hard enough to find him! Thank you!**

The bird flew across the road to another bush and I pulled the car up a bit closer before again getting out. Now, I had a fairly distant, but wonderful view of the bird as it sang its melodious song. Nemesis no more! I thought and watched it for several minutes before it flew off. I thanked the bird and this remarkable ecosystem, and then headed back to Billings.

Birding Japan: Tokyo, Part I

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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.

Well, I warned you it would be a while before you heard from us again, but we hope you find the reasons acceptable. Braden has been chasing salamanders and frogs in Maine while I have spent the last three weeks with my daughter, Tessa, in Japan! We had dreamed of visiting the Land of the Rising Shopping Mall for many years, and the country and people delivered in every way. While birding was not the purpose of the trip, you might guess that I took advantage of every opportunity to get to know Japan’s avian wildlife—experiences I’d like to share in the next few posts, starting with the focal point of Japanese civilization, Tokyo.

**While disguised as a train station, Tokyo Station is actually a small city in itself—and the transportation hub for Birding Central HQ during our stay.**

While we planned to visit several Japanese locations, Tessa and I agreed that we wanted to spend the most time in Tokyo. Accordingly, we reserved five days there on the front end of the trip and four days to finish up our journey. Wrapping our heads around such an incredibly large and diverse city proved a challenge, but after much research I booked our first hotel near Tokyo Station. Mind you, this is no ordinary train station. Trains for hundreds of destinations come in and out of the place and the station itself is a vast, entertaining commercial complex featuring hundreds of shops and restaurants, many lined along extensive underground “streets”. The area also happened to make a pretty good headquarters to begin birding.

On our first day there, we worked in a visit to Hamarikyu Gardens in between Tsukiji Outer Market (former home of the famous tuna auctions) and Tokyo Tower. While Tessa enjoyed a park bench in the sun, I quickly snapped up six life birds including Eastern Spot-billed Duck, Common Pochard, Tufted Duck, Oriental Goldfinch, White-cheeked Starling, and Brown-eared Bulbul. I was especially taken with the bulbul—only to find that apparently it is the most commonly observed bird in Japan! Still, I didn’t let that dampen my enthusiasm for these noisy, beautiful birds.

**My first day of Japan birding, I was so excited to see my first Brown-eared Bulbul, a bird that I’d been studying assiduously. Little did I know that it’s probably the most common bird in Japan!**

Because of the 15-hour time difference with Montana, I woke at 3 a.m. the next day, and as soon as it got light I let Tessa sleep in and walked over to the Imperial Palace a few blocks away. The grounds were still closed, but I began exploring the moat around the walls and some potentially birdy parks across the street. Right away, I saw a Little Grebe, and then the discoveries grew even more exciting. I saw a small, greenish bird flitting around some bushes—another life bird, Warbling White-eye! Continuing my prowl, I discovered two more lifers—Falcated Duck and Dusky Thrush, two species I had studied intensively before the trip. They put me in a great mood before we went to watch the Yokohama BayStars defeat the Yomiuri Giants 1-0 in the Tokyo Dome that afternoon!

I began Day 2 of my Tokyo birding with a visit to the uber-dramatic Imperial Palace. The grounds were not yet open, but I found some great life birds nearby!

I should pause at this point and say that besides wanting to see Japan’s birds, I had another ulterior motive for birding. When we left Montana, my life list stood at 968 species—perilously close to 1,000. Maybe, just maybe, I thought, I can crack 1,000 while in Japan. In fact, looking over what I might see, I felt fairly confident about meeting that goal—something that spurred me to take advantage of every opportunity.

**Falcated Ducks were a new species I studied before heading to Japan. After seeing them on Day 2, I had no idea this would be the only time I’d see them on the entire trip.**

On the third full day of our adventure, Tessa and I planned to head over to Tokyo Disney to try to score tickets. We did get some and visited the Disney Sea park—but that’s another story. More important, we stopped at perhaps Tokyo’s best birding location, Kasai Rinkai Park. As we got off the train, the reason this park is birdier than others seemed evident: it is one of the few Tokyo locations with remotely natural habitat. Tessa got some of her now-favorite milk tea from a vending machine and settled in to draw on a bench while I hurried off to see what might be living there.

I had not yet met any Japanese birders, but a couple of hundred meters down the trail, a woman with binoculars and a camera saw me looking for birds and silently pointed into reeds next to a pond. “Arigato gozaimasu,” I whispered and crept toward where she was pointing. Sure enough, a half a dozen small brown birds were gleaning seeds and once again, my study paid off. They were Reed Buntings—birds I had hoped, but not expected, to see!

I left my good camera at home for this trip, opting for a lighter “travel camera” that unfortunately didn’t produce the sharp bird images I craved, but I was still delighted to get a photo of this male Reed Bunting who is obviously shouting something important at me.

Continuing down the trails I made more discoveries including Japanese Tits and Masked Buntings, both also lifers! Then, walking along the water, I spotted two suspicious shapes about one hundred meters offshore. As I grew closer, the shapes resolved into what has to be one of Earth’s most gorgeous, elegant water birds, Great Crested Grebes!

**Despite this lousy photo, you can probably get an idea of why I was so excited to see my first Great Crested Grebes!**

As I went back to meet Tessa, I was happy with what I had found, but I also knew I had missed some important species here that I would probably not get a second shot at. These included Azure-winged Magpie and any kinds of shorebirds. No matter. I felt grateful for this look at Japanese nature and optimistic for the days to come!

Sneed’s Kasai Rinkai Park eBird checklist.