Category Archives: Grosbeaks

Need Winter Birds? Go Skiing!

4 Replies

To Subscribe to FatherSonBirding—and nothing else—please fill in your email address in the box down in the column to your right. Thanks!

At 6:50 a.m. on January 4, my family awoke and piled into our minivan, looking forward to the white slopes of Discovery Ski Resort near Philipsburg. After picking up my friend Eli, we took off, driving southeast towards the resort and Georgetown Lake, which coincidentally abounded with rare and spectacular birds in winter. During the CBC the week before, Gary Swant informed us that he had spotted both Great Gray Owls and Boreal Owls in the area. So, of course, before we quite arrived at Discovery, we took a short drive along a logging road running through the pine forest above the frozen lake.

Five minutes in, my dad saw birds perched on the road ahead of us, and hit the brakes. We guessed they had to be something interesting. The first two, which turned out to be Mountain Chickadees, flew away as soon as I got out of the car, but the third, a bigger passerine with a heftier beak stayed and allowed us good looks—it was a Pine Grosbeak! In the past week we had ticked off countless nemesis birds (including a Merlin in downtown Missoula on the 3rd) and this bird proved no exception!

We arrived at Discovery, where no line awaited us, and proceeded to tackle the slopes. The fact that we lived in Montana did not mean we excelled at skiing, so we mostly stuck to the green circle (easy) and blue square (intermediate) runs, though Eli, Tessa and I did try out a very short black diamond (advanced).

At about one o’ clock, we scarfed down a quick lunch, then ran outside equipped with my camera, binoculars, lunch rolls and a bag of birdseed. Two years ago, we learned that the birds around the ski area took full nutritional advantage of their human visitors, and that the resident Mountain Chickadees actually had been trained to feed out of people’s hands! We cast bits of bread on the ground, then took turns holding birdseed out towards the stands of trees around the parking lot. Sure enough, the birds found us, and we each got to feel the tiny, reptilian-esque feet of the chickadees as they alighted on our fingers and snatched up sunflower seeds.

Nothing helps one understand the nature of “being bird” quite like having a Mountain Chickadee land on your fingertips!

Meanwhile, Gray Jays (now known as Canada Jays), Clark’s Nutcrackers and Steller’s Jays pounced on the rolls we purchased from the lodge, the braver ones landing within a meter of our feet. To top that off, we even discovered a big flock of Pine Grosbeaks flying around above us, the males’ robin-like songs weaving through the air.

Alas, this trip prioritized skiing over birding, so we had to leave the feeding fest behind. After racing down a few more runs, we packed up and drove home, with great photos and a new Life Bird under our belts, and more importantly, an unforgettable memory.

We tried to feed these guys some legitimate bird food, but the ski area corvids—including this Clark’s Nutcracker—had developed a fondness for Discovery’s baked goods.

Irruption!

4 Replies

This year, there are more Evening Grosbeaks than ever at our feeder–but still nowhere near the amount we saw our first year of birding. (photo by Braden Collard)

Braden here.

During our first year of serious birding, my dad and I thought Evening Grosbeaks were common. Every day in fall, if you just walked the block from our house to Rattlesnake School, you would be amazed at the numbers of these boisterous finches gathered there. There were hundreds, maybe even a thousand of them in their drab fall plumage, tearing apart any pinecone unlucky enough to be spotted.

Two years later, during our first major Big Year (which you can read about in my dad’s fall book Warblers and Woodpeckers: A Father-Son Big Year of Birding), we saw only two individuals: a pair we briefly glimpsed up Pattee Canyon while staking out an American Three-toed Woodpecker nest.

How is it possible that we saw tons one year and only 2 another year? Irruption.

Red Crossbills are another boreal finch that has irruption cycles. (photo by Sneed B. Collard III)

When I say irruption, I’m not talking about a misspelled version of the thing happening in Hawaii right now. An irruption is a mass migration of birds (in this case) to a different area, generally south. Finches are the main type of group that has irruption cycles, but many birds that winter in the U.S. and southern Canada, such as Snowy Owls, Rough-legged Hawks, Bohemian Waxwings and Northern Shrikes also irrupt. Irruption almost always results in large numbers of birds appearing in areas where they normally aren’t, however it isn’t historically unusual.

One of the main reasons for irruptions is food supply. For example, when there aren’t enough rodents to go around up north in winter, Snowy Owls will generally move south into Northern U.S. states. Sometimes, if the shortage is extreme enough, the northern birds will extend their ranges past their usual limits and end up in places that are unheard of. During a major Snowy Owl irruption year, for instance, Snowies were found as far as Texas and Hawaii.

Irruptions can occur due to food abundances, too. The year before we experienced the Evening Grosbeak overload probably had pairs producing higher amounts of young than usual. The next year, the young had nowhere to go, since all of the territories up north were filled, so they moved south into Missoula.

While not as big of an irruption year as before, this year’s Evening Grosbeaks are costing us plenty in bird seed! (photo by Sneed B. Collard III)

This year and last year haven’t quite met that first year’s standards yet, but it has seen crazy irruptions for tons of finches. Last winter kicked off with large numbers of grosbeaks and Pine Siskins, while this year Common Redpolls, Cassin’s Finches and (yet again) more grosbeaks are stealing the stage. Who knows what will show up next?