Believe it or not, I just returned from my first actual birding festival in two years—and it was worth the wait! I was invited to speak at the 33rdannual HummerBird Celebration in Rockport-Fulton, Texas last year when, for covid—not corvid—reasons, organizers were forced to cancel the event. Even as I flew down this year, however, I had little idea what the celebration would be like. I was in for a treat.
One advantage of having mainly one kind of hummingbird in a region is that it greatly simplifies the almost impossible task of distinguishing female Ruby-throated from female Black-chinned hummingbirds!
The festival is organized by dedicated staff and volunteers at the Rockport-Fulton Chamber of Commerce and the event, as its name suggests, celebrates hummingbirds. “Wait a minute,” some of you may be asking, “aren’t there only three or four species of hummingbirds in eastern Texas in the fall?” Correct. But the event doesn’t focus only on diversity. It celebrates raw numbers, mainly of one species: Ruby-throated Hummingbirds. The entire community joins in, and one of the coolest things about HummerBird is the self-guided tour of houses full of feeders and backyard habitats where participants are encouraged to feast their eyes on a plethora of Ruby-throateds. The festival, though, offers much more.
One of my duties as a speaker was to co-lead a four-hour field trip of 40 birders out to Fennessey Ranch, a working ranch that also focuses on conservation and research. After struggling a bit to find the place, we split into two groups and began “hay rides” around the property, looking for as many birds as we could find. Coming from Montana, I discovered that almost every species was a Year Bird for me, but Braden has coached me well over the years, and together with my co-leader, ranch naturalist Sally Crofutt, we identified almost everything we heard and saw. They included some real surprises, including my Lifer Broad-winged Hawk, migrating Anhingas (I didn’t even realize they migrated!), and my find of the day—only my second-ever Blue Grosbeak.
Green Jay was our Fennessey group’s Most Wanted Bird, and this fellow obligingly complied with our wishes!
But the celebration offered much, much more, including:
a fabulous Hummer Mall packed with all kinds of bird-related vendors and demonstrations
a host of interesting speakers
great birding all along the area’s waterfront
One great thing about HummerBird is that terrific birding surrounded us. I found this cooperative Crested Caracara—along with numerous other species—along the shore just down from my hotel.
Speaking of speakers, I spoke to two enthusiastic audiences about Braden’s and my 2016 Big Year and other adventures, and before one of my talks I had the pleasure of listening to Dawn Hewitt, editor of Bird Watcher’s Digest. She gave wonderful hints on learning bird calls—something I would use almost immediately. I was surprised how well-attended the entire celebration turned out to be, and I headed back north feeling full of positive bird vibes as I prepared to spend a couple of days birding High Island and the Bolivar Peninsula—the subject of my next post(s)!
If it’s one thing we at FatherSonBirding hammer over and over again, it is the 3 Ps: Planning, Persistence, and Preparation.
Okay, actually, we have never talked much about this, but it’s a catchy concept, isn’t it? The 3 Ps, in fact, came very much into play recently when, after our rather disappointing birding in Boston, Braden and I headed up the coast to a place Braden had carefully researched (P Number 1) ahead of time: the Parker River National Wildlife Refuge.
One of the gems of the New England coast, Parker River NWR turned out to be our favorite birding spot of our week-long sojourn.
I had actually never heard of Parker River before, but Braden learned about it from some online birding buddies and checked it out to see if it was “visit-worthy”. His verdict? Definitely. Not only might we collect a handful of Life Birds there, the refuge protected one of his top ABA target birds: Saltmarsh Sparrow.
Now, I have to say that when we visit a National Wildlife Refuge, I generally expect a pretty low-key, rarely visited location. Imagine my surprise when we encountered a mini traffic jam waiting to get in. In fact, it became evident that the refuge served not only to protect wildlife, but as a critical outdoor outlet for congested coastal Massachusetts. Our visit started auspiciously with a stop at Lot 1, where we got a quick fly-over of a Baltimore Oriole—the only one we would see on our trip. Crossing the highway, we encountered an even cooler surprise: the closest looks we’d ever had of Semipalmated and Least Sandpipers! This was especially useful after the ID struggles we’d had with birds in eastern Washington only weeks before, and it really helped us examine the unique properties of each.
Having both Semipalmated (left) and Least Sandpipers right in front of us really helped Braden and me visually imprint these hard-to-ID species in our brains. Note especially the darker, browner overall appearance of the Least. Its yellow legs are a giveaway, too—but only when they aren’t covered in mud!
As we moved on, though, Braden felt pessimistic about seeing Saltmarsh Sparrows. He had Planned. He had Prepared himself with knowledge. But Boston had put an “unlucky” vibe in his head. As we made our second stop along the refuge’s main road, however, he suddenly shouted, “I see them!” Indeed, not thirty feet from us, at least four or five fairly nondescript little birds bumbled about in some tall marsh grass, seemingly not knowing what they were doing. “They seem like juveniles,” Braden surmised, and having studied this species quite a bit, he would know.
Saltmarsh Sparrows used to be lumped with Nelson’s Sparrows as one species, the Sharp-tailed Sparrow. As its own species, however, the Saltmarsh Sparrow occupies a narrow range of saltmarsh habitat along the East Coast and, in fact, requires this habitat for nesting. Because of this, it is at extreme risk from higher sea levels caused by climate change, and its population has been steadily declining. This makes protecting places like Parker River NWR even more important—and made us feel especially privileged to have such a close experience with them.
Our amazing experience with Saltmarsh Sparrows proved once again that persistence just may be the most important attribute of a successful birder.
Leaving the Saltmarsh Sparrows, we continued to hit other places in the refuge and were rewarded with a host of Year Birds, and two more Life Birds: Purple Finch and Great Crested Flycatcher—our number one ABA need to that point. Which all demonstrates the third P of birding: Persistence. Sure, luck plays a role, but just getting out there again and again will eventually take luck out of the equation, something we learned for the thousandth time at Parker River.
As you, our loyal readers, know, I (Sneed) have set a 100-species challenge for myself while undertaking my new temporary job driving truck for the Missoula Fire Cache (which vehemently regrets all association with me and will deny knowing me in any way if asked). As you’ll recall, 100 species may not sound like a lot, but in August—arguably one of the year’s worst birding months—and given the limitations of where I can go, it’s actually quite a lofty ambition pour moi. After all, my birding must be limited to what I can see while driving or during quick rest breaks just off my routes. As of two weeks ago (see Birding by 5-Ton Truck: a 100-Bird Quest), I had reached 59 species, but had picked off most of my easy targets and was desperately in need of large numbers of “watery” birds if I even dreamed of getting close to 100. It didn’t seem likely, but Lo! I have recently happened into some luck!
One happy circumstance is that I have been sent to several locations that take me by Warm Springs, one of Montana’s most famous birding locales. I can’t explore much of it during a quick break, but one nice pond sits just off the interstate offramp and I’ve been checking it out. The pond has yielded consistent Wilson’s Phalaropes, but also a few nice ducks such as Wood Ducks and Common Goldeneyes. On my last trip, though, I decided to forgo Warm Springs and instead try Racetrack Pond just up the road. The place often doesn’t yield a lot of birds, but at the far, northern end I pulled over and was delighted to find some suspicious wading birds—Greater Yellowlegs! Yeah! Then, a Black-necked Stilt flew in! Searching harder, I found more than twenty of this unreported species. Shorebird season has begun!
I was totally delighted to find not only Greater Yellowlegs, but Black-necked Stilts at this seldom-birded pond near Warm Springs.
This week, I ran a delivery to the Wenatchee (Washington) fire cache. Having scoured eBird ahead of time for possible quick bird stops, I pulled over at a place called Reardan Ponds north of Spokane. I quickly added Eared Grebes and American Coots to my 100-bird list, but was a bit underwhelmed by other birds. On a whim, I crossed the road to discover a little mudflat—and even better, some kind of shorebird in it! Unfortunately, it quickly scooted into the reeds before I could identify it. Argh!
Patience can pay off, as this great look at a Solitary Sandpiper proved.
I decided to give it five minutes, and to my delight a Solitary Sandpiper suddenly appeared in front of me—perhaps the best look ever I’ve had of these awesome birds. “But that’s not what I saw earlier, was it?” I asked myself. Then, I spotted not one, but two, small birds in the “peeps” category—small sandpipers of several different varieties. Peeps are very hard to ID, but these two gave me a nice long look, and even more important, some good photos. Later that night, I determined that they were Semipalmated Sandpipers! Not only a GREAT bird for my list, but a Year Bird to boot! However, still not sure of my ID, I posted a photo to the Montana Bird Discussioin Group and talked it over with Braden. Turns out, they weren’t Semis at all, but Least Sandpipers, with mud on their legs covering up their diagnostic yellow colors. I tell you, those peeps are tough, but I was still delighted with the discovery—and learned a lot to boot! UPDATE: So, this still isn’t 100% resolved. Another highly-respected MT birder makes some good points that the birds below are Semis after all! What do YOU think?
Peeps are notoriously difficult to ID, but thanks to some decent photos and help from other birders, I eventually determined that these were Least Sandpipers—or maybe not! Other experts are weighing in that my original ID of Semipalmated Sandpipers may be correct after all!
As a bonus, the next day, returning to Missoula, I added several new songbirds—a category I’d about given up on for my goal. At a little park in St. Regis, I not only got Cordilleran Flycatcher, but Red Crossbills, and a Red-eyed Vireo, a bird I hadn’t dared hope for. So where does that leave me? Well, as of today, I have reached exactly 80, count ‘em, EIGHTY species! Will I make it to 100? It’s still going to be tough. Not only am I running out of likely birds, I won’t be able to drive for the next couple of weeks, and the season may be over when I get back. Never fear, though, I will let you, our loyal readers, know of any further success! Keep on birding!
Red-eyed Vireos have become one of our favorite songbirds, but seeing one takes some persistence and, it seems, the presence of cottonwood trees.
After a couple of slightly disappointing birding outings in a row, Braden and I were feeling a little down, especially because we felt like we’d missed our chances to see some uncommon fall migrants as they make their all-too-brief passages through Montana. Nonetheless, I continued taking my binoculars with me on my morning dog walks just to keep an eye on things and learn more about how fall birds behave. Early last Sunday, I decided to take Lola on one of our Top Secret routes—places we can’t tell you about or we’d have to kill you—and had just started down a street near Pineview Park when I saw activity in weird poplar-type trees up ahead. I unslung my binocs and focused.
You Californians are probably used to this, but sixty Yellow-rumped Warblers in Montana? Almost unheard of!
I saw about eight or ten little birds, and the first two I identified happened to be Ruby-crowned Kinglets, so I at first assumed they were all kinglets. Rookie mistake. Upon further study, I realized that many of them were Yellow-rumped Warblers (Banding Code: YRWA). What’s more, many more birds filled the surrounding trees. “Hm . . . This could be serious,” I thought and settled in for a better look. For the next twenty minutes, I did my best to identify the frantically-moving targets, finding Red-breasted Nuthatches, Black-capped Chickadees, Evening Grosbeaks—and about twenty Yellow-rumped Warblers. As I was looking at the top of a spruce tree, however, a shocking black-and-yellow face suddenly popped up: a Townsend’s Warbler! By now, TOWAs were supposed to be long gone and when I punched it into eBird, well, the app flagged it as RARE.
Anyone know what this tree is? Whatever it is, it apparently hosted a lot of insects because the birds loved it!
Lola and I hurried home and woke Braden. “You don’t have to come,” I told him, “but there’s an amazing mixed-species flock down by Pineview, including a Townsend’s Warbler.” Five minutes later, cameras and binoculars in hand, we zoomed down there in our ’86 4-Runner. To our relief, the birds hadn’t left, and we spent the next seventy minutes following them. My major goal was for Braden to see the Townsend’s, but together, we soon began making other discoveries. For one thing, there weren’t just twenty YRWAs. There were at least sixty of them, along with at least ten Ruby-crowned Kinglets. It wasn’t long before Braden found a Wilson’s Warbler and we both began detecting an occasional Orange-crowned in the crowd. Thanks to Braden’s ears, we also heard Pine Siskins, Red Crossbills, a Song Sparrow—even a pair of Sandhill Cranes in the distance!
Full Disclosure: I still confuse Cassin’s Vireos with Ruby-crowned Kinglets. The white “spectacles” are the key to IDing the Cassin’s.
Not to be outdone, vireos made an appearance. Braden spotted a pair of one of our favorite songbirds, Cassin’s Vireo, while I saw another surprise bird face, that of a Warbling Vireo—also flagged as RARE for this time of year.
The species kept piling up with Hairy Woodpecker, flickers, and another surprise, Red-naped Sapsucker. But where was that sneaky Townsend’s Warbler? Had I been imagining it? Had it struck out on its own? Finally, after almost an hour, Braden shouted, “I’ve got the Townsend’s!” I hurried over and sure enough, there it was. I even managed a poor, but unmistakable, photo of it. As the flock made its way slowly down Rattlesnake Creek, Braden and I climbed back into the 4-Runner. “Wow,” I said, “I think that’s the best mixed-species flock we’ve ever seen in Montana!” After some thought, Braden agreed. It hadn’t provided us any Year Birds or Lifers, but had been something we would never forget—and almost in our back yard. Birding doesn’t get better than that.
The sun was still asleep as the Collard minivan circled the roundabout, turning off on the road leading to MPG Ranch. Thirteen months ago, we had had our first banding experience with the University of Montana Bird Ecology Lab on Upper Miller Creek road, and now we were back for more—Erick Greene, a UM professor working with my dad on an article, had invited us to join the Ranch team. We pulled up to the gate, and soon enough the banders arrived. We followed them through the gate and onto MPG Ranch, a place neither my dad nor I had been in at least two years. A brand new sign pointed directions to familiar places, and we followed the truck towards the Orchard House, where Nick Ramsey and I had spent many days watching the feeder birds. We passed the Duck Mahal, a seasonally-flooded building, located adjacent to a slough that provided habitat for the first Bullock’s Orioles, Gray Catbirds, Wood Ducks and Red-naped Sapsucker I had ever seen.
While we hoped that the wind would die down, UMBEL’s Mike Krzywicki gave us a tour of their MPG banding site. Just the week before, they’d caught a rare Gray Flycatcher here.The research carried out at MPG Ranch grows more and more important as climate change worsens and we grapple with how to protect and restore fragile Western ecosystems.
The vehicles parked in a lot north of the Duck Mahal, and from there we followed Mike, the lead bander, down into a shrubby riparian area. The rising sun brought with it constant gusts of wind, and the gray sky threatened us with rain.
“Well,” said Mike, “It looks like we won’t be banding for a while, so why not go birding?”
As we walked around the floodplain, we learned about what projects UMBEL and each of the individual banders and students were working on. The birds, for the most part, were completely hunkered down, and most of the songbirds we recorded as flyovers. One group of birds was out in full force, however; it was peak raptor migration.
Pairs of Red-tailed Hawks performed acrobatics in the sky as the wind sprinkled rain around us. A golden-bellied female Northern Harrier passed right in front of us as we scanned the brush for warblers, and several accipiters made close passes (including one that sat on a bare log that we puzzled over for several minutes).
It is definitely raptor migration season as we are seeing large numbers of birds riding mountain ridges and, when we’re lucky, coming close to the ground.(Red-tailed Hawk)
The weather did not lighten, and so, for the safety of the birds, the banding session closed before it opened. My dad and I, still thirsty for species, said our thanks and drove back across MPG’s windswept plain towards another old friend: Lee Metcalf National Wildlife Refuge.
What we discovered upon arriving at the main ponds by the Refuge visitor center is that the season of brown, unidentifiable ducks was wrapping up, and the open water produced great looks at breeding-plumaged American Wigeon, Northern Pintail and Gadwall alongside prehistoric white pelicans. We hadn’t seen this much waterfowl in a long time, yet, again, our eyes turned to the sky. Raptors continued to stream over the Bitterroot Valley, and we studied each Red-tailed carefully, hoping to spot a Broad-winged Hawk, a rare but regular migrant this time of year. No Broad-wingeds appeared, but rafts of Turkey Vultures did. On our way out of the refuge, we spotted yet another raptor, one we had just begun to get familiar with: a crisply-patterned Peregrine devouring a blackbird on a fencepost.
Most people still think of the Bitterroot Valley as relatively untrammeled. As this photo shows, the valley is filling up fast, and we need careful planning to protect the wildlife that all Montanans cherish. (American White Pelicans at Lee Metcalf NWR)
Next, my dad and I headed to Kootenai Creek Road—not the road leading to the trailhead, but the one I’d accidentally driven earlier this summer. Why? California Quail, an introduced resident of the Bitterroot Valley, had been abundant the last time I’d been here, and this was the first time my dad had gotten his butt down here to add them to his year list. Nabbing quail was a necessity. Thankfully, we spied a lone male on our way back down the road, adding another year bird to at least one of our lists after a two-week drought.
Okay, we admit it. A lone California Quail isn’t likely to make the cover of “Hollywood Birds Tonight”, but when it’s a Year Bird? Heck ya, we’ll take it!
Finally, we hit the Fort Missoula Gravel Quarry, a birding classic, before heading home. Upon entry, we were hit with a large flock of robins feeding on berries, and soon began pulling other species from the flock. Butterbutts (Yellow-rumped Warblers) flycaught above leaf-gleaning Orange-crowned Warblers, and we spotted a pair of Cassin’s Vireos, adorned in yellow vests and white eyeglasses. As we made our way towards the water, I heard a high, metallic “chip” coming from a bush behind us. After about a half hour of pishing, using playback and circling the bush multiple times, an adult “tan-striped” White-throated Sparrow popped into view for a second, adding another species to my dad’s year list (I’d found one at the Rocky Mountain Elk Foundation a few weeks prior). Like at MPG and Lee Metcalf, raptor silhouettes lined the horizon, and we continued scouring the sky for Broad-wingeds. Unfortunately, we didn’t find any, but there would be other days.
On the way home we hit another old favorite: Taco Bell. It had been a day of new experiences and old memories. We had no choice but to feel fulfilled.
