Category Archives: Game Birds

Braden’s Maine to Montana Birdventure, Part 1: A Day in “The County”

Today, FSB kicks off Braden’s accounts of his truly remarkable spring birding trip from Maine to Montana. This adventure would take him to an astonishing variety of habitats most of us never get to experience. Along the way, he would drive 5,000 miles, visit nine states and provinces, and record 264 bird species, seven of them lifers. He begins this series with a visit to Maine’s arguably wildest and most inaccessible county: Aroostook.

Twenty-four hours after walking across the stage of the Cross Insurance Center in Bangor and receiving my college diploma, I was alone in a tent in Northern Maine. I’d gone to school in the state for four years, but never experienced it in the summertime, those three months when Maine is at its best. Now, with an abundance of time, I could leisurely make my way back to Montana instead of the six-day dash I’d done across the country last August. Because of this distant deadline, I’d arranged to spend a week in Maine birding and exploring following my graduation, and there was no better place to start than with one of the two counties I’d never visited: Aroostook County.

**A Cedar Bog up in Aroostook County! This one shimmied with Palm and Magnolia Warblers.**

Known simply as “The County” to locals, Aroostook is by far the largest and least populated part of Maine. The County contains a large portion of the state’s agriculture, mostly located on its eastern flank, whereas the rest is coniferous forest. Aroostook’s high latitude and cooler climate create a haven for many boreal species of birds that have receded from their more southerly haunts because of warming and excessive logging that promotes regrowth of a different, unsuitable habitat. This northern conifer forest is also a hotspot for the primary topic of my dad’s previous post: warblers.

Warblers, in fact, were a major factor in my decision about where to go to school. I wanted to go to college somewhere where I could see as many warblers as possible, and Maine fit that bill perfectly. With almost thirty species of breeding warblers (nearly triple what Montana, a state twice the size, has) there is no better place to be, and that is especially true of Aroostook County, where most of them could be found. Lying in bed the night of Monday, May 12th, I felt nervous. It was still fairly early as far as migration goes. What if the birds weren’t here yet?

**This was my camping spot in Aroostook County, on a backroad in northern Maine!**

On Tuesday, May 13th, my worries were settled when I woke up to the sound of a Nashville Warbler singing above my tent. I dressed as quickly as I could and set off down the logging road I’d driven in on, my ears receptive to any and all of the birds sounding off in the surrounding woods. Every level of the forest had songsters belting out their tunes: Ovenbirds from the ground, Black-and-white Warblers from spruce trunks, Magnolia Warblers from ten-year-old firs and Yellow-rumped Warblers from high in the canopy. Present in lower numbers were species like Blackburnian Warblers, Black-throated Blue Warblers, and American Redstarts, all likely early representatives of their species, most of which were still farther south, booking it north.

I was especially excited about the two Cape May Warblers. While I’d seen a fair number of Cape Mays before, I’d rarely seen them in their breeding colors and I’d never heard them sing before. This is because of their distributions. While I’d encountered many of the East Coast warblers on their breeding grounds during my time in Pennsylvania, I was hundreds of miles too far south for Cape Mays, which use contiguous spruce-fir forest and are mostly confined to Canada. These warblers (which are named after Cape May, New Jersey, where they neither breed nor spend the winter) are particularly dependent on an insect known as spruce budworm. Budworms are spruce parasites, and their populations are cyclical. During outbreak years the insect infects and ravages thousands of acres of spruce trees before the population crashes. Cape May Warblers, Bay-breasted Warblers, and Evening Grosbeaks, therefore, all have populations that rise and fall with the populations of this insect.

**A “Myrtle” Yellow-rumped Warbler, which is the subspecies that lives on the East Coast!**

Besides agriculture, the main industry in Aroostook County is logging, and understandably, the logging industry is not the biggest fan of an insect that defoliates thousands of acres of their crop. Unfortunately, the industry’s historical response to spruce budworm outbreaks (which, remember, are ecologically “normal” and important for the birds dependent on them) has been to clear-cut hundreds of hectares of infected forest. Spruce-fir forest is a mature ecosystem that takes centuries to develop, however, and the forest that grows back after these clearcuts is not coniferous but deciduous. This is a major reason why many spruce budworm-specialists, like Cape May Warbler, and many other birds found in boreal forests, like Canada Jays and Black-backed Woodpeckers, have retreated from much of southern Maine in the last hundred or so years. Their habitat has simply disappeared.

I saw evidence of this as I birded The County. Sure, there was a lot of seemingly healthy spruce habitat. There were also massive empty lots, covered in nothing but slash and debris. The forests were filled with birds, while the lots had almost none. It almost seemed apocalyptic. At least the empty lots provided good views of Mt. Katahdin, Maine’s highest peak, rising in the distance.

Again, though, the forests DID have birds, and not just warblers. Many migrants had not yet arrived (namely the flycatchers, of which I saw very few), but I recorded dozens of Ruby- and Golden-crowned Kinglets, Blue-headed Vireos, and Winter Wrens. Ruffed Grouse drummed from wet thickets, Hermit Thrushes foraged in the road, and I even got to see an American Goshawk bomb overhead at a million miles per hour, chasing something or perhaps just trying to give me as least satisfying a look as possible. In the evening, a walk along a side road yielded incredible, up-close views of Canada Jays, or “Whiskeyjacks” as they are known colloquially. These subtle, white-and-gray corvids landed in the trees less than five feet from me, curiously searching for insects while paying me no mind.

**A photo of a Canada Jay that I took with my phone!**

After a night and a day spent in The County, I headed back south to investigate the other corners of Maine I had yet to explore. Stay tuned!

**What the forest looked like in Aroostook!**

Birding the Burn 2025

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In many ways, my own birding journey began with my book Fire Birds: Valuing Natural Wildfires and Burned Forests. That’s when my birding mentor, UM Professor Dick Hutto, showed me the critical importance of burned forests and the spectacular birds that colonize them. It’s also when Braden and I began birding avidly. Since then, we have explored burned forests many times and they have become some of our favorite places to bird. Last week, we were excited to check out one of our area’s newest burns, last year’s Miller Creek fire area, about an hour from our house. To reach it, we headed all the way out Miller Creek and then wound our way up dirt roads until we reached the burn at Holloman Saddle. On the drive, we passed through terrific riparian and conifer habitat, and Braden could pick out Yellow and Orange-crowned Warblers, Swainson’s Thrushes, and Willow Flycatchers through the car window. At about 6,300 feet elevation, we reached the burn, parked, and began exploring.

Researching and writing Fire Birds: Valuing Natural Wildfires and Burned Forests set me firmly on my birding journey—and propelled Braden and me to start birding burned forests. The multiple award-winning book is a great primer for kids and adults on many little-known aspects of forest ecology. To order a copy, click anywhere on this block!

Thanks to Dick’s tutoring, I had some experience sizing up burns and at first, this one didn’t seem ideal. Three birds essential to “opening up” a burned forest are Black-backed, American Three-toed, and Hairy Woodpeckers. These birds hunt wood-boring beetle grubs in the newly-charred forest and along the way, drill out cavities essential for other cavity-nesting birds. But Dick’s research had shown that Black-backed Woodpeckers need larger-diameter trees to nest in, and the forest that greeted us now mainly seemed full of smaller-diameter trees. I also saw stumps where larger trees had already been removed—another huge problem in human (mis)management of burns.

**Braden trying to locate a promising bird call in the Miller Creek Burn.**

Through decades of well-intentioned Smokey Bear messaging, we have all been taught that all fires are bad, bad, bad. Even when a natural fire does occur, the forestry Powers That Be have taught us that humans must somehow “save” a burn by salvage logging it. For those unfamiliar with it, salvage logging involves going into a burn and removing trees that retain commercial value. The problem? These trees are exactly the larger-diameter trees that woodpeckers need to drill out their homes and, in the process, provide homes for dozens of other animal species. Salvage logging also often severely compacts forest soils and removes the seed sources (cones of burned trees) needed for the forest to regrow. This means that we now have to pay people to replant the burn site—when the forest was already perfectly equipped to replant itself.

**Left to their own devices—i.e. without “salvage logging”—most burned forests recover quickly—and with a much greater variety of plant and animal life than before.**

Nonetheless, shortly after Braden and I began walking, we heard the distinctive drumming of either an American Three-toed or Black-backed Woodpecker. These can be distinguished from other woodpeckers because the drumming noticeably slows at the end. To find out which bird was drumming now, we began making our way down a steep hillside toward some larger trees, but the burned ground proved very crunchy and we may have spooked our quarry before we got eyes on it. Disappointed, we climbed back up to the road, and continued walking. Fortunately, the forest around us sang and flitted with bird life.

Almost immediately, we began seeing Mountain Bluebirds, one of Montana’s most spectacular species. MOBLs are well-known “fire birds” and their vivid blue plumage looks especially striking against the blackened trunks of a burned forest. Today, we saw these birds everywhere. During our three-mile walk, Braden recorded seven of them, but we both agreed we probably undercounted.

**By popular consensus, Mountain Bluebirds are the most stunning “fire birds” you’ll find in burned forests.** **However, another common fire bird, Western Tanager, might challenge that opinion.** **Did you know that bluebirds are thrushes?** **They are relatives of at least four other popular Montana thrushes: American Robin, Swainson’s Thrush, Varied Thrush, and Townsend’s Solitaire.**

Suddenly, a large shape took off from beside the road and spread its wings as it glided down into the woods. “Dusky Grouse!” Braden exclaimed. It was one of the birds he most wanted to see since arriving back in Montana the previous week. Hoping for a better look, we crept down after the bird and, sure enough, espied it sitting quietly in the shadows. We enjoyed it through our binoculars for five minutes and then slipped away, leaving it in peace.

**Before heading out, Braden told me, “I really want to see a Dusky Grouse.” This one obliged perfectly—and it was the first we’d ever seen in a burned forest.**

Except for the mystery woodpecker that had drummed earlier, we had not heard a trace of other woodpeckers, but what we did hear was astonishing: wood-boring beetle larvae actually munching away inside of the dead tree trunks! I’d been told that one could hear these, but with my crummy hearing, I didn’t believe that I ever would. Sure enough, in several places, we listened to these big juicy grubs take noisy bites out of the wood!

**Score! While we watched, this Hairy Woodpecker extracted a juicy beetle grub from a dead tree.**

Finally, we also heard tapping on a large tree ahead. Braden got his eyes on it first. “It’s an American Three-toed,” he exulted. We could tell it was a female by the lack of a yellow crown, and we settled in to watch this amazing bird. It was working its way down the trunk, flaking away burned bark, presumably to check for insects hiding underneath. Once in a while, it stopped and really began pounding away after a beetle deeper inside the wood. It sounded like someone driving nails into cement!

Even female American Three-toed Woodpeckers can be distinguished from Black-backed Woodpeckers by having some streaky white on their backs—though not as much as on Hairy Woodpeckers (compare with previous photo).

As we continued our walk, we also saw Hairy Woodpeckers and another three-toed, this one a male. Woodpeckers, though, were just some of the birds making use of the burn. We got great looks at Townsend’s Solitaires, Red Crossbills, American Robins, Dark-eyed Juncos, Yellow-rumped Warblers, and Chipping Sparrows, and heard both Red- and White-breasted Nuthatches. Most of these are classic “burn birds” and we felt exhilarated to see them.

**Though we didn’t get eyes on one in the burn, we did hear a White-breasted Nuthatch—and saw this one the day before up nearby Pattee Canyon.**

At a couple of places, unburned green scrubby areas abutted the fire boundary, and it was fun to see birds dash from these green protected areas into the burn for quick meals or nesting materials before dashing back to safety. Many birds, in fact, love to “set up shop” at the boundaries of such two contrasting habitats.

We never did find a Black-backed Woodpecker, but that did little to detract from yet another great birding outing. We vowed to return to this spot the next few years, hoping that no one would move in to “save” this precious forest that didn’t need saving. On the drive down, we also stopped at some of the lower riparian areas for great “listens” at MacGillivray’s, Orange-crowned, and Yellow Warblers along with our favorite empid species, Willow Flycatchers. Amid the current chaos of the world, our burn bird outing offered a fun, revitalizing—and yes, inspiring—break. If you’re lucky enough to have a burned forest near you, we hope you’ll check it out.

**We can’t prove it, but it seems to be a really good year for Orange-crowned Warblers—not always the easiest birds to see in Montana.**

Plenty of Partridges: Braden & I Kick Off Another Year of Birding!

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Braden and I kicked off our 2025 at one of our favorite western Montana birding spots: Ninepipe National Wildlife Refuge. While mainly envisioned as a duck factory, the surrounding farms and grasslands provide plenty of grassland bird habitat and raptor hunting grounds, so in winter that’s what we mainly search for. We began the day by looking for Short-eared Owls at a “vole-opolis” our neighbor Tim, a game bird hunter, told us about last year (see our post “Lost in Owls”). Sure enough, we got distant looks at three of these mesmerizing, long-winged raptors as they cruised low over a tapestry of grass and cattails. They were joined by a trio of Northern Harriers, birds that are so similar to Short-eared Owls in appearance and habits that they offer an almost perfect lesson in convergent evolution—the incidence of two unrelated species being shaped in similar ways by natural selection.

Braden celebrating seeing Short-eared Owls in 2025!

After our time with the owls and harriers, we set out on a leisurely cruise northward on dirt roads with the spectacular snow-capped Mission Mountains majestically gazing down on us. The raptors continued to please, with great close-up looks at our first Golden Eagle of the year, three or four Rough-legged Hawks, a couple of American Kestrels, two Merlins, plenty of Red-tailed Hawks, and no fewer than a dozen Bald Eagles.

**This Northern Harrier is seriously eye-balling a group of Gray Partridges below, but decided not to go for it.**

I’ve been worried about a dearth of small song birds all year, and that continued today. Usually, we at least see some waxwings or American Tree Sparrows at Ninepipe, but not today. I’m hoping the warmer winter somehow explains it, but I am especially concerned about the pervasive use of neonicotinoid pesticides and their deadly effects on birds. A future blog post, perhaps.

While songbirds were few and far between, we encountered a veritable population explosion of a bird we usually see only once or thrice a year: Gray Partridges! In the space of an hour or two, we saw these birds at least half a dozen times in groups ranging from four to more than a dozen. “I think I’ve seen more Gray Partridges today than in the rest of my life,” I told Braden, and it might have been true, as we totaled almost seventy of these birds. As with the rest of the day, I managed only lousy photos, but we delighted in watching these introduced, but charming, orange-faced critters.

Another fuzzy shot, but entertaining just the same—a Gray Partridge zooming toward us. These birds are unusually difficult to photograph, and I doubt I’ve ever gotten a good shot of them.

We finished the day scouring the southern shore of Flathead Lake near Polson. We had to look pretty hard, but finally found good numbers of waterfowl and gulls at Ducharme fishing access. Here we were rewarded by more than five hundred Common Mergansers, and much smaller numbers of wigeons, Mallards, Buffleheads, Green-winged Teal, Northern Pintails—and a lone Redhead. Braden also picked out several Tundra Swans from the more numerous Trumpeters.

Tundra Swans on Flathead Lake. These birds can be hard to distinguish from Trumpeter Swans, but they have small yellow patches forward of their eyes, and often have overall whiter heads and necks than Trumpeters.

Perhaps my favorite part of this last big session was focusing in on a group of seventy or eighty gulls out on a frozen edge of the lake. Part of my enthusiasm was having just received a review copy of Amar Ayyash’s epic new book, The Gull Guide: North America. I plan to write a full review of this remarkable book soon, but my first perusals have gotten me super excited to learn more about gulls. Even better, as Braden and I studied the group in front of us through our scope, we picked out both Ring-billed and Herring Gulls. Then, I paused on a gull that looked unlike any others. It had pink legs, medium gray wings, dark eyes, light head streaking, and a single red spot on the bill. It also was noticeably smaller than the Herring Gull next to it. Braden suggested a Thayer’s Iceland Gull and I have to say that I agree with him. Unfortunately, I couldn’t get decent photos and gulls are notoriously hard to ID, so we didn’t record it. Still, I’m thinking Thayer’s is what we saw.

**Ring-billed and Herring Gulls on Flathead Lake. It’s easy to pick out the Herring Gulls by their large sizes. Maybe I’ll even find some other species after studying The Gull Guide in depth!**

And so it begins . . . a great new year of birding! I hope you’ve all been able to get out and enjoy the remarkable avian wildlife our planet is blessed with. In fact, if you haven’t already done so, I urge you to support one or more of the terrific conservation groups working to make sure birds are always with us. For more info, see our post “Saving Birds. It’s Time.” Thanks for reading and I hope to see some of you out there birding soon!

August: It’s Just Weird

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August is a weird month to bird. As we’ve no doubt mentioned before, we used to just write off August. I mean, most birds have stopped singing. No songbirds are migrating. Oh, and in Montana, hot, smoky weather often sucks the motivation from every pore of our bodies. Over time, however, our “bad August attitude” has, like the current presidential race, suffered a total reversal. Now, Braden and I cautiously look forward to August birding. The only problem? We’re never sure what we’re going to find. (See, for instance, last year’s August post “Birding Treasure at Garnet Ghost Town.”)

This August has been no different, but we began the month with some clear objectives. As Braden’s summer in Montana dwindles ahead of his final year of college, he had accomplished most of his summer birding goals save one: finding a Spruce Grouse. I could relate! After all, I saw my lifer spruce grouse only last year (see our post “Gambling on a Grouse-fecta”). As for me, I too coveted another Spruce Grouse on top of other Year Birds that had so far eluded me. The latter included Olive-sided Flycatchers, and Three-toed and Black-backed Woodpeckers. We both wanted to see migrating shorebirds, but realized it might be a tad early for some of them.

Sadly, Braden and I probably had only one day left to bird together before he departed, so any strategy to accomplish our remaining goals would involve compromise. Nonetheless, we set off last Sunday morning for a place we’d never birded together—Skalkaho Pass east of Hamilton. We got on the road before seven and made a brief stop at Lee Metcalf NWR hoping for shorebirds. No luck, probably because water levels were too high, but we did see a lot of the other usual suspects. Most surprising? Vaux’s Swifts, which I myself had probably never seen at Metcalf before, and at least half a dozen Sandhill Cranes—an unusually high number for that location. “Hm,” we thought, “Maybe some birds are already on the move for their fall migrations!”

**There was something off about this Sandhill Crane at Lee Metcalf. I just can’t quite figure out what it was!**

After a quick stop in Hamilton for breakfast sandwiches, we headed toward Skalkaho, the road transitioning from a two-lane road with a painted yellow line, to a “one track” paved road, and finally to dirt. We encountered an early surprise with a herd of bighorn sheep, and then climbed through a gorgeous forest canyon that gave off moist Pacific Northwest vibes and hosted a huge variety of trees. Here, we heard Pacific Wrens and Golden-crowned Kinglets, but our real destination lay high above us.

**A great advantage of birding is that we see a huge variety of mammals during our adventures—including these bighorn sheep.**

As the road snaked upward, we entered large burn areas that looked about ten years old. If you’ve been reading this blog (or my book Fire Birds) at all you know that we love to bird in burned forests. Not only do they provide great visibility, standing dead trees attract some of Montana’s most special birds. We pulled over a couple of times to listen for woodpeckers, but didn’t hear anything. Getting out of the car for the third time, however, we were greeted by a loud “Quick! Three Beers!” Braden and I laughed.

**Though not a great photo, this is exactly the kind of pose we usually find Olive-sided Flycatchers striking in a burned forest.**

“Olive-sided!” he exclaimed. And not just one, either. We would count at least half a dozen in the next couple of hours.

When we passed 7,000 feet we at last felt we had reached proper Spruce Grouse country. I had located a promising dirt road on the map, but before we reached it, we spotted another dirt road leading to the left. “That looks good,” I told Braden. “Let’s take that.”

“Sounds good,” he answered.

**The burns near Skalkaho Pass were custom-made for finding cool birds.**

It felt like a good day to find a Spruce Grouse. As on my Spruce Grouse excursion with Braydon Luikart last year, the day was overcast and misty, and I kept expecting to see bevies of grouse sitting in the middle of the road. That didn’t happen. In fact, we drove slowly for about twenty minutes, I keeping my eye on the road while Braden searched trees and openings along the road.

“C’mon, grouse,” I urged them, but it seemed like it might end up being a grouse-less day after all.

Then, Braden said, “Stop! Back up a few feet.”

I obeyed. “There, next to that stump,” he told me. “That definitely looks like a grouse.”

Sure enough, it was a gorgeous female emanating a distinctly Spruce Grouse aura. Just to make sure, I called up my Sibley app and compared it to a female Dusky Grouse. The two looked very different. Most diagnostic were this bird’s golden-brown patina and horizontal stripes across its breast and belly. Dusky females are grayer with more vertical barring in front.

**We could have easily driven past this female Spruce Grouse as it imitated a tree stump, but Braden’s sharp eyes caught it as we rumbled by.**

“We did it!” I affirmed. “We found a Spruce Grouse!” Neither of us could quite believe it. Even better, we spotted two babies popping their heads up and down right behind mom.

We continued up the road for another ten minutes, hoping to glimpse a male, but didn’t see one, so turned around and began bumping back toward the main road. We were not finished with this promising area, though. At another burn area, I pulled over. “Let’s just walk up the slope a bit,” I suggested, grabbing my camera and binoculars. We did, scanning the forest of dead tree trunks for any sign of woodpeckers. Then, we heard drumming to our right and our eyes locked.

“Let’s go over there,” Braden said, and we began picking our way over fallen logs and slash, and through fresh, thriving young trees and shrubs. As we walked, the drumming sound was replaced by tapping, and we grew closer and closer until we felt sure it was coming from a tall tree right in front of us.

“Do you see it?” I asked peering hard at the trunk against a backlit sky. Braden shook his head, so I circled around the tree, trying to spot it from different angles. Finally, I saw movement down low behind a green branch of a living tree. “I got it,” I called to Braden.

It took some time to get a clear look at it, and the first thing I saw was a lot of white showing on its back. This led the pessimistic side of me to conclude it was a Hairy Woodpecker. After all, no yellow showed on its head—the clear sign of a male Three-toed or Black-backed. As Braden also got his eyes on it, though, we began going through its other features. Most prominent? Black barring on its breast.

“Do Hairys have those black markings?” I asked, quickly consulting Sibley. “They don’t!”

**This female American Three-toed Woodpecker provided an ideal “study bird” for teasing out the finer details of this species. We were thrilled to find it!**

“It’s a Three-toed!” Braden agreed.

Wow. On this one day we had set aside to bird at elevation, we had found almost all of the birds we longed for, missing only a Black-backed Woodpecker.

We weren’t as successful with shorebirds, but that didn’t surprise us. Making our way over to Warm Springs, we found a nice group of Long-billed Dowitchers, and Greater and Lesser Yellowlegs, but not the Baird’s or Pectoral Sandpipers or small “peeps” (Least, Semipalmated, or Western Sandpipers) we were hoping for. Still, we did discover a surprise Black-crowned Night-Heron at the main Warm Springs ponds—something totally off our radar. In fact, I had started the day hoping for maybe one or two Year Birds, and ended up with six! Our success was only dampened by the knowledge that it might be our last big day of birding together this summer. Still, that is the yin and yang of birding—and of life. You just gotta enjoy it all.

Our grouse eBird checklist: https://ebird.org/checklist/S190227269

Least Terns and Black-and-White Warblers: Birding Medicine Lake to Makoshika

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Welcome to the fifth installment of Braden’s and my remarkable 2024 Eastern Montana Odyssey. With this episode, and more than 1,000 miles under our belts, we round the halfway mark of our trip, approaching brand-new birding territory for us. Before that, however, we had some truly remarkable birding at past favorite birding sites. If you are enjoying these episodes, please share them with your birding friends and consider supporting our efforts by buying a *NEW* copy or two of one of Sneed’s books on the right.

After two fascinating, fulfilling days in Westby (see our last post), Braden and I were primed to tackle the next stage of our Eastern Montana safari. We’d already had some amazingly packed grassland birding experiences, so I have to admit I wasn’t as excited about Medicine Lake National Wildlife Refuge as I should have been. Part of that may be because last year, my pal Scott and I were turned back from the refuge by thick, slippery mud (aka “gumbo”). In any case, my bad attitude proved to be way off the mark, as Medicine Lake delivered one of our best grassland birding days ever.

**At Medicine Lake, Braden counted 67, say it loud, SIXTY-SEVEN Grasshopper Sparrows!**

Our visit began promisingly when Braden IDed an Alder Flycatcher by its distinctive “free beer” call right near the (closed) visitor’s center. What unfolded afterward was nothing less than a full-on showcase of grassland birds. Over the next nine miles, Braden recorded approximately 75 Chestnut-collared Longspurs, 67 Grasshopper Sparrows, 9 Clay-colored Sparrows, 6 Baird’s Sparrows and much, much more. He detected many of these by song, of course, but longspurs and sparrows were literally flying up everywhere around our car in some sections. As Braden noted in our eBird list: “Ridiculous.”

**One of our better looks at Sharp-tailed Grouse in recent years was one of many delights at Medicine Lake NWR.**

Not to be outdone, impressive numbers of waterfowl and game birds, including three Sharp-tailed Grouse, clamored to get on our eBird list. Surprisingly, so did a number of shorebirds. Where the road threaded two ponds, four White-rumped Sandpipers landed, giving us our closest looks of the entire trip. Here, we also saw eleven birds we desperately wanted to find—Red-necked Phalaropes. It’s lucky we did, too, since they would be the only RNPHs of our expedition.

**After spending days poring through flocks of Wilson’s Phalaropes, we finally located a group of 11 Red-necked Phalaropes at Medicine Lake.** **Even better, they were in their uber-handsome breeding plumages.**

Our Medicine Lake checklist: https://ebird.org/checklist/S180177051

On our way down to Glendive, we stopped at Culbertson Bridge for a modest 21 species, and then turned right down a dirt road. “What are we doing here?” I asked Braden. “There are supposed to be Least Terns nesting on sandbars in the Missouri River,” he told me. Okay, I admit it, Least Terns were totally off my radar and, honestly, I’m not sure I realized they even nested in Montana. Sure enough, they do. There are five subspecies of Least Terns, and Montana’s belong to the “Interior” group. Unfortunately, this group is federally endangered due to its small population, habitat loss, and disturbance by recreational activities. Only about fifty are thought to live in Montana.

Several miles down the road, I pulled over at a spot overlooking several large sand islands in the river. We scanned them with our binoculars. Zippo. At that point, I was ready to move on, but Braden decided to put in the extra effort of setting up our spotting scope, even though he also thought we were out of luck.

“I see them!” he suddenly shouted.

**A distant view of some of Montana’s rarest birds, Least Terns. In the nation’s interior, these birds nest on sand islands in the middle of large rivers.**

Indeed, almost impossible to see with the naked eye or through binoculars, two were sitting there blending in perfectly with the sand. As we watched, we saw two more for a total of four—probably the rarest birds we would see on the entire trip! More excitement was yet to come.

**We were still squinting when we took this photo—after squinting at the sand island in the background to see four of Montana’s handful of Least Terns. Squint and you might be able to see them, too!**

After a great late breakfast-for-lunch at Sunny’s diner in Sidney, we made it to Glendive, where we checked into a motel. After resting up a bit, we embarked on our final bird outing of this already-packed day—to Makoshika State Park.

Scott and I had a great time in Makoshika last year watching Field Sparrows and Rock Wrens, and as we entered the park, Braden and I also picked up both species. We had another agenda, however: finding Black-and-White Warblers. Predominantly an Eastern species, these handsome little birds are known to breed in Montana, but the only other one we’d ever seen was right here in Makoshika on a trip with Nick Ramsey in 2017. Dutifully, Braden and I hiked the same trail to see if we could find another one.

**Even without birds, the badlands scenery at Makoshika State Park is some of Montana’s most dramatic.**

Nope. Worse, the hike wore me out after our extremely long day. Still, we had one more place to check—a campground way up on top of the hills with spectacular views of the surrounding badlands. We parked, got out, and began looking around. As usual, I was fairly skeptical of finding one, but then Braden’s ears perked up: “I think I hear one.”

We scrambled down a fairly steep slope until Braden stopped and looked up into a tree. “There it is!”

Elated, we both quickly got our binoculars on it, and I even took some crummy photos. After that, we just slowly followed this amazing, improbable little bird as it searched for insects on one tree, then another. By this time, the sun had started to sink low in the West, and standing there watching this bird created a sublime experience—one of those memorable moments that makes birding the best activity on earth.

FatherSonBirding

Sharing the Passion of Birds and Birding