Category Archives: Listing

Swift-ecta!

In an earlier post, we may have let slip that both Braden and I are on a tear for our 2025 global species lists (see our post In Search of the Green-tailed Towhee). That’s due to a variety of factors. Braden not only drove across the country from Maine to Montana this past spring (see last post), he embarked on intense birding trips to Oaxaca, Mexico (see post Birding in Oaxaca, Mexico) and Costa Rica. As for me, I received delightful last-minute invitations to Colombia (post Antpittas and Tody-Flycatchers), thanks to FSB contributor Roger Kohn, and to Texas, where I spoke about my book Birding for Boomers. The upshot of all this is that Braden has seen almost 800 species of birds this year, while I am within twenty birds of breaking my all-time record of 527.

The thing is, twenty birds in Montana in late July is more challenging than it sounds. Birds common in May or June become increasingly difficult to detect and find, so if you don’t have them by August you may not get them at all. That means you’ll have to rely on migrants—which are notoriously unpredictable—or winter arrivals that you probably got earlier in the year. As a result, I’ve recently been focused on picking up the remaining common birds that I so far haven’t seen. Top on my list? Say’s Phoebe.

**Last year, I saw a Say’s Phoebe near the base of Missoula’s Pattee Canyon. Alas, that one eluded me this year, forcing me to search farther afield!**

Say’s Phoebes are cool little flycatchers that love to nest on human-made structures such as barns, covered porches, and utility buildings. While not rare, they seem to be pretty picky about their accommodations, and we run into them only infrequently in Montana. As I write this, for example, only four sightings have been reported in Missoula County in the past month. While scouring eBird, though, I did note regular sightings up at Kerr Dam below Flathead Lake. Braden and I had discussed doing a birding day trip, so two Tuesdays ago we set out early, Say’s Phoebes our Number One goal.

Before leaving Missoula, Braden asked if we could stop at Greenough Park. He had been pursuing a birding challenge with friends back East to see how many species they could find every day for seven days in a row. “I want to pick up Lazuli Bunting and Swainson’s Thrush,” he told me. This search happened to lead to the first delightful surprise of the day. As we were walking up a dirt trail, we approached a cottonwood tree where Braden had found a Western Screech Owl two days before. Today, he suddenly exclaimed, “Oh my god! It’s a baby!” Sure enough, a WSOW baby sat only a yard from its parent about twenty feet up the tree. Here, our day had just begun and already it had been a wonderful outing!

**This adorable little guy was the first baby Western Screech-Owl Braden and I had ever seen!**

Still, we had a lot of ground to cover. After a fortifying meal at our favorite French restaurant, McDaniels (in honor of Rogére), we headed up to Ninepipe NWR. We didn’t have any major agenda there except perhaps to snag some shorebirds. For July, it was an unusually cool, overcast day and we joked that we might see some Black Swifts. For those unfamiliar with Black Swifts, they are one of the most elusive and rare birds in the US. They nest mainly behind waterfalls and, especially with climate change, are highly vulnerable throughout their range. In Montana, I had never seen one outside of Glacier National Park, and it was pie-in-the-sky logic to even hope we might see one here out in the valley.

**Braden poring through intermolt ducks at Ninepipe.**

Anyway, we stopped at one Ninepipe pullout just off Hwy 93. The ducks were in their almost-impossible-to-identify intermolt plumages, but we still saw a nice variety of them plus Trumpeter Swans, American White Pelicans, Double-crested Cormorants, and Great Blue Herons. “Where are the Black Swifts?” I pressed Braden, but he shrugged off my flippant remark.

**Though we hadn’t seen any Black Swifts, the low cloud cover at least admitted the possibility that they would venture down into the valleys from their mountain waterfall hideaways.**

The phoebes on our minds, we didn’t want to spend too much time at Ninepipe, but decided to stop at one more pullout and, again, found the usual suspects. We both searched the skies for Black Swifts just in case, but didn’t see any. “I have to go to the bathroom,” Braden said, and I kept looking around for various birds. As soon as Braden emerged from the outhouse, however, he shouted, “Black Swifts!” Huh? My eyes darted back toward the low clouds, and there they were—four unmistakable dark shapes scything through the air!

**Black Swifts were a stunning find on a day for which we had almost no expectations.**

Though I’d seen Black Swifts before, this was my first time really getting to study them, and I noticed both similarities and differences between other swifts. Like other swifts, BLSWs have distinctive almost sickle-like shapes when they fly. With a wingspan of eighteen inches, however, they are significantly larger than Montana’s other swifts, and this shows in their flight. While Vaux’s Swifts zip around with almost mechanically stiff rapid wingbeats, Black Swift wings bend more noticeably. They still look like advanced jet fighters as they zoom through the sky, but with more flexible bodies. Braden also pointed out that Black Swifts show noticeable forks in their tails compared to Vaux’s Swifts, which look like their tails have been chopped off with a cleaver.

Swifts can usually be distinguished from swallows by their stiff-winged, scythe-like silhouette. Note the prominent fork in the tail of this BLSW that distinguishes it from Vaux’s Swifts—though White-throated Swifts can also show a fork.

We watched these rare beauties for a full five minutes before they drifted away across the lake and I even managed some cool photos. After they had gone, Braden and I just looked at each other. “Black Swifts,” he said, and we gave each other a hug.

**Swifts always remind me of fighter jets—captured here doing an F-35 impersonation.**

Remarkably, it was still only 8:30 and we had a ton of birding ahead of us. Our next stop was the roadside rest stop just south of Ronan where we picked up lone Semipalmated, Spotted, and Solitary Sandpipers, along with a pair of Long-billed Dowitchers, all undoubtedly in migration. After that, we headed to Pablo NWR in hopes of some interesting water birds. We struck out on those—but were amazed to see more than 300 Bank Swallows resting on the dirt road. “They must be migrating, too,” Braden marveled, and I agreed. In fact, it has been a very lucky swallow year for both of us with, for example, great looks at large numbers of migrating Tree Swallows and Cliff Swallows. This was the first time we’d ever seen Bank Swallows in such numbers, though. From there, it was on to our primary destination: Kerr Dam.

Braden had never been to Kerr Dam before, and I’d just gone to the overlook, but the entire site reminded me of a throwback to gentler, more civic times, when people shared more of a vision for the common good. From the overlook, we looked down on the dam itself with the Flathead River backing up into Flathead Lake beyond. Below the dam, dramatic, highly eroded cliffs framed a dramatic canyon full of promising riparian habitat.

**Braden and I both wondered what secrets the dramatic cliffs below Kerr Dam might be hiding!**

From the overlook, we watched Ospreys and Braden said, “Look, there are some Violet-green Swallows. White-throated Swifts should be here, too.” Not two minutes later, he spotted a pair flying overhead, their sickle-shaped wings and white breasts clearly visible against the blue sky. “Uh-oh,” I said. “That means that we might have to go for the Swift Trifecta and find some Vaux’s Swifts.” Braden sighed in agreement. Darn those swifts!

But we had not forgotten our main target, Say’s Phoebes. “I’m guessing they are down there at the power station below the dam,” I said. “You up for going down there?”

“Sure.”

**Squinting into the sun at the overlook to Kerr Dam, the Flathead River running south below the dam in the distance.**

Winding our way down to the power station, we were greeted by a cluster of neatly-kept houses and a fenced-in area full of transformers and other “power stuff.” All of this was surrounded by an open, pleasant park-like setting that reminded me of my days working on the Pitt River dam network in northern California just after college. We decided to get out and walk around and immediately started seeing and hearing Western Wood-Pewees, American Goldfinches, robins, Eastern Kingbirds, and other songbirds. We hadn’t walked ten minutes when suddenly, some kind of flycatcher darted out in front of us to snag an insect.

“Say’s Phoebe!” I exulted, and Braden gave me a high five. There weren’t just one, but two, working the area around the fenced-in transformer area. “This is perfect for them,” I said. “Lots of insects and plenty of structures to nest on.” Alas, they didn’t care for our attentions and kept flying away as we approached, but they and the Black Swifts brought my global year total to 509 species—just nineteen shy of breaking my record of 527. Braden already had the phoebe for the year, but the Black Swifts took his global 2025 total to an astonishing 776 species! BUT . . .

**This elusive Say’s Phoebe finally cooperated with me for 2025!**

There was still that little matter of a swift trifecta on our minds. After a cultural stop at Richwines Burgerville in Polson, we made our way slowly back to Missoula. Nowhere did we see the third Western Montana swift, Vaux’s Swift. “Let’s go to Caras Park,” Braden suggested as we reached Missoula. “I see them there pretty regularly.”

We parked near the iconic metal salmon sculpture and walked out onto the grass below the Higgin’s Street Bridge. The sun was out by now and things were warming up. Cliff Swallows flew to and from their mud nests on the side of the bridge, but I didn’t expect to see any swifts. “There’s one!” Braden suddenly shouted. Sure enough, several birds with fast, mechanical wingbeats darted back and forth after insects above the Cliff Swallows. It was a final satisfying sighting on a totally surprising, remarkable July day in Montana.

Our Day’s Trip Report: https://ebird.org/tripreport/396651?welcome=true

The small size and “chopped off” tails of Vaux’s Swifts are solid ID features to distinguish them from both Black and White-throated Swifts. These wonderful little birds completed our Western Montana “Swift-ecta” and wrapped up one of our best birding days ever.

In Search of the Green-tailed Towhee

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Please support our efforts at FatherSonBirding by buying a *New* copy of Birding for Boomers or one of Sneed’s other books shown to the right—and by donating to Montana Bird Advocacy, a wonderful grassroots scientific organization doing novel and unique research on Montana birds.

Confession: Despite the title of this blog, the the main purpose of last weekend was not to find Green-tailed Towhees; it was to learn about a wonderful study of Gray Flycatchers with biologists Jeff Marks and Nate Kohler. However, as I set out Saturday morning, defiant of the grim weather forecast for the next day, I did have a secondary mission in mind—to find and visit with some of the birds in the arid southwest corner of the state. Over the years, these sagebrush areas, from Bear Canyon (see Bear Canyon—Montana’s “Tropical Birding” Paradise) all the way west to Beaverhead County, had become some of my favorite parts of Montana. I credit that partly to my own childhood living in the dry chaparral country of southern California, but I also just love the ecosystems and birds in this part of Montana. I’d have trouble calling myself a real birder if I didn’t get down there at least once each year.

Since you’re pressing me on the issue, I also had a third objective for this trip—to move closer to breaking my all-time one-year species record. The record belonged to 2017, when our family traveled to Ecuador and Peru and I recorded a total of 527 species for the year. This year, thanks to last-minute invitations to Colombia (see THIS POST) and Texas (see THAT POST) I unexpectedly found myself at 498 species—perilously close to setting a new record. That task loomed more difficult than it might appear since once spring migration has passed and breeding season gets underway, it becomes much more difficult to find new species. Still, a trip to the southwest part of Montana promised to nudge me closer to this new goal, and my first target was one of the state’s coolest birds: Green-tailed Towhee.

**On Braden’s advice, my first real birding stops of the trip were along the Jefferson River before Lewis & Clark Caverns.**

Green-tailed Towhees winter in the American Southwest and Mexico, but generally breed in the the Great Basin region of the West, including southern Montana. Though the birds are not strictly rare, I could count the number of times I had ever seen one, and I felt eager for another GTTO encounter. To find this bizarre, poorly understood beauty, I hit I-90 at dawn and steered toward Lewis and Clark Caverns, two-and-a-half hours to the east. To entertain me along the way, I had checked out an audio version of Eat, Pray, Love, a book that invites all kinds of snarky comments but, I found, actually proved moderately amusing. On Braden’s advice, I pulled over alongside the road leading to the caverns and was rewarded with a wonderful assortment of river and cliff birds including Rock Wren, Lazuli Buntings, and White-throated Swifts. Once inside Lewis and Clark Caverns State Park itself, I focused on finding Green-tailed Towhees.

While Lewis & Clark Caverns did not give up its Green-tailed Towhees, I did get nice looks at a Rock Wren and Lark Sparrow.

I struck out. I spent a good hour and a half checking along the road, up around the main parking area, and in the campground. Merlin’s Sound ID picked up a putative GTTO song at one point, but I neither heard nor saw a trace of the bird.

I have to admit that this made me feel like a total failure. I mean, here was my first target bird of the trip, and one that shouldn’t be that hard to find, and I totally “whiffed” on it, as Braden might say. I didn’t plunge into despair exactly, but it definitely put a damper on my mood as I began questioning just what I thought I was doing out here pretending to be a birder! Well, I thought, maybe I’ll have better luck at my next destination.

Which happened to be Birch Creek Road north of Dillon in Beaverhead County. Several years before, Braden and I had found our lifer Thick-billed (formerly McCown’s) Longspur on this road, and once again, the road delivered. I’d driven only a mile before I saw a suspicious dark shape on a fence. I actually didn’t think it was a Thick-billed, but my binoculars revealed otherwise. “Yay!” I exclaimed, feeling the weight of my earlier “whiff” lifting slightly. A few minutes later, I was examining another TBLO when I noticed a large shape sitting in a field about one hundred yards away. “Clearly a hawk,” I thought, “but what kind?” The answer: the best kind, at least for my goals for the trip—a ferruginous hawk. This was another bird I needed for the year and one that isn’t always easy to find in the state.

A desperate flight photo of the Ferruginous Hawk as it flew away.

Digging out the peanut butter sandwich I’d made earlier, I tooled down I-15 for my next destination, Clark Canyon Reservoir. Braden and I had only ever birded here once before, and as near as I recall, we hadn’t found much, so I kept my expectations low. I stopped at one overlook and was surprised to see a Common Loon on the water below, along with a Double-crested Cormorant and a couple of Ring-billed Gulls. Violet-green swallows swirled around me and, as always, they brought a smile.

Snaking around the reservoir, I approached a sign for Horse Prairie Campground and spontaneously swerved left onto a dirt access road. The reason? Tall, healthy-looking sagebrush! Hm, this just might have one of my other target birds for the day. Almost immediately, I saw a really cool bird that had not been on my target list—a Common Nighthawk peacefully chillin’ on the split-rail fence. The bird barely blinked as I fired away with my camera through the car window from only thirty feet away.

**The first of three Common Nighthawks I spotted chilling on the wooden fence leading down to Horse Prairie Campground.**

Creeping slowly forward, I heard a song I didn’t recognize—which was no great surprise in itself, but I did have a guess of what it was. Sound ID confirmed it: Brewer’s Sparrow! This bird loves healthy sagebrush and makes up for the world’s dullest plumage with a vigorous song that bewitches any birdwatcher who hears it. A few moments later, one even sat still long enough for a decent photo. Check. Another target bird—but not the one I expected to find here!

**One of Montana’s drabbest birds, the Brewer’s Sparrow has an enchanting song.**

I kept driving slowly toward the campground and spotted a medium-sized, slender bird up ahead. Wishfully, I thought it might be a Say’s Phoebe—another bird I happened to need for my year list—but it flew off before I got close. As I pulled into the campground, though, two brownish birds were chasing each other around. I assumed they were robins, but when one landed on a “Day Use Only” sign, I realized with a start that it was exactly the bird I had hoped to find here—a Sage Thrasher!

**Sage Thrashers are so flighty that seeing one on a sign was about the last thing I expected!**

Braden and I have never met a thrasher we didn’t like, but Sage Thrashers hold a special place in our birding hearts. For one, they’re the world’s smallest thrashers—which is why I mistook them for robins or phoebes. For another, they are charismatic songsters and often are the most common bird you see in sage country. As I sat in the car, in fact, I counted three more Sage Thrashers around me. Whoo-Hoo!

**One of our favorite Montana birds, Sage Thrashers seemed to be everywhere I looked this afternoon.**

Later, on the road where I was to meet up with Jeff Marks and Nate Kohler, I encountered seven more Sage Thrashers! It was a veritable thrasher party—by far the best experience I had ever had with these good-looking birds.

Unfortunately, the next morning, heavy rain and spitting snow kept me from seeing Gray Flycatchers with Jeff and Nate. More on that in another post. Almost as bad, I began the drive home without a Green-tailed Towhee under my belt and no expectations of seeing one. But bless Nate Kohler’s heart. He told me about a canyon I should check out on the way home. It was still raining when I got there, but I drove slowly and stopped frequently, listening and watching. Lazuli Buntings chattered everywhere and I saw a good variety of birds—but no towhee. Finally, I put on my raincoat, got out of the car and played a Green-tailed Towhee song. Almost immediately, a small shape darted up out of the sagebrush—the bird I was looking for! Not only that, it held still long enough for a photo—but the story hadn’t quite finished.

**I worked hard for this Green-tailed Towhee—only to find that it wasn’t a year bird after all!**

Once I got home and posted all of my checklists for the trip, I was surprised that eBird hadn’t added GTTO to my year list. What’s going on? I thought, and did a quick search to see if I had somehow seen one down in Texas and forgotten about it. Nope. What I did forget was the rare vagrant GTTO I had seen in Victoria, BC during Amy’s and my January trip (see Birding Victoria, BC)! So this one was not a year bird after all, but still a lot of fun to see. Meanwhile, my year list swelled to 503 species thanks to the Thick-billed Longspur, Ferruginous Hawk, Brewer’s Sparrow, Sage Thrasher, and a Prairie Falcon I had spotted the afternoon before. Not exactly the trip I expected, but one I already cherished.

Target Birds and a Shocking Surprise in the Texas Hill Country (Texas 2025 Part 3)

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After spending two glorious birding days along the east Texas & Louisiana coasts (see “Peveto Woods, Louisiana: Spring Migration Hotspot.”), I returned to San Antonio for my four minutes—yes, you read that right—four minutes of work to promote my book Birding for Boomers. While there, I reprised my now-sort-of-famous birding route along San Antonio’s Riverwalk (see our post “Birding San Antonio’s Riverwalk—Are You Nuts?”). Once again, I found birds—but not enough to write another blog about it. As soon as I finished my speaking gig, though, I headed west into the Texas hill country. Why? To try to find two birds Braden and I had talked about our entire birding careers.

Leaving San Antonio, I drove two hours to the hot, fairly flat town of Uvalde and booked myself into a Hampton Inn. That afternoon, I picked up a few nice birds in the town’s Memorial Park including another Yellow-throated Vireo and my first—and only—Green Jay of the trip. I also grabbed an excellent Tex-Mex meal at El Herradero de Jalisco restaurant. The next morning, I hit the road before dawn.

Ah, a good Tex-Mex meal with a “dressed” cerveza is one of many rewards birding offers—one that FSB contributor Roger Kohn will especially appreciate.

One bonus to birding is that we birders invariably get to see spectacular sunrises and sunsets. As I headed north, I witnessed an unforgettable sizzling orange sunrise on one side of the car while an equally spectacular orange full moon set in the west. It boded well for what would be arguably the most important—and most demanding—birding day of my trip: my quest to find Black-capped Vireos and Golden-cheeked Warblers.

Anyone who has been birding for more than a couple of years has probably heard of these two Texas specialties. Of the near-threatened Black-capped Vireo, Braden simply says, “It’s the best vireo.” Quite a statement considering how cool other vireos are! The bird winters in Mexico, and its primary breeding range lies in central Texas—though it technically extends from far northern Mexico to southern Kansas. The endangered Golden-cheeked Warbler winters in Central America and far southern Mexico, but breeds exclusively in central Texas.

**According to eBird lists, Lost Maples State Natural Area is one of the most reliable places to find both Black-capped Vireos and Golden-cheeked Warblers.**

As usual, I felt a bit skeptical of my ability to find these birds. Call it psychological protection against failure. Nonetheless, I did have a plan. After scouring eBird hotspots, bar charts, and birding lists before the trip, I settled on Lost Maples State Natural Area as the most reliable location to find both species. Indeed, when I pulled into the parking lot, I met a couple who had staked out a bush where they had seen a Black-capped Vireo the previous day. “We saw Golden-cheeked Warblers in that tree about fifteen minutes ago,” the woman added, motioning to a nearby oak tree. I briefly pondered waiting around for either species, but the canyon before me beckoned and I reasoned I could hang around the parking lot later if need be.

**I immediately loved Lost Maples, especially since its habitat reminded me of the chaparral and oak woodland I’d grown up with in Southern California.**

I headed up the park’s East Trail and immediately felt at home in the scenic canyon’s xeric landscape full of oaks, junipers, mesquite, and other classic Western vegetation. I also realized that I had tackled some tough birding! Birdsong rang out all around me, but I got few glimpses of actual birds. Thank god for Merlin’s Sound ID, which I ran multiple times to get an idea of what might be around me: an impressive list that included Canyon and Carolina Wrens, Olive Sparrows, Yellow-breasted Chats, and at least four (other) kinds of vireos. Finally, however, “Black-capped Vireo” popped up on Sound ID and I stopped to seriously scour the nearby vegetation. Over the next five minutes, I got a brief glimpse of a Blue-headed Vireo and good looks at a White-eyed Vireo.

**I had to work hard for actual bird sightings at Lost Maples, but managed a great look at a White-eyed Vireo—one of five vireos on my checklist for the day.**

Finally, I saw the distinctive black head and white spectacles of the bird I most hoped to see: a Black-capped Vireo! Soon, I saw another. The birds definitely did not want to strike a pose and I followed them as they flitted almost frantically from bush to tree and tree to bush. I finally managed a couple of ID photos, and then just tried to relax and observe them. It was a good moment, and I felt glad I hadn’t just waited around the parking lot hoping for one to appear.

**I was so glad that I hadn’t waited around the parking lot to find my Lifer Black-capped Vireos!**

That left the Golden-cheeked Warbler. Sound ID had picked it up a couple of times as I hiked the canyon, but it wasn’t until I was back in the park next to my car that I began to figure out the bird’s song. With my imperfect hearing, it sounded like a high-pitched buzzing trill—a lot like an insect, but distinct from any other bird calls around me. Soon, I found myself standing for five minutes directly in front of an oak tree as a Golden-cheeked sang repeatedly.

I never saw it.

This frustrating experience repeated itself several times. I eventually added the bird to my eBird list (“Heard only”), but I was not a happy camper and I thought I might remove it later. As shy as they were, the Black-capped Vireos had been publicity hogs compared to the Golden-cheekeds! Knowing when I was beaten, I headed off to some bird feeders set up in the park about a mile away. There, I tried to console myself with leisurely views of Woodhouse’s Scrub-Jays and Scott’s Orioles. I also told the bird hostess about my lack of success actually seeing a Golden-cheeked Warbler. “Any suggestions?” I asked.

**While pondering my next moves, I spent a pleasant half-hour watching Woodhouse’s Scrub-Jays and Scott’s Orioles at the Lost Maples bird feeders.**

“Well,” she said, “I’d head up the East-West Trail right here until you come to the ponds about a mile on. Just keep scanning the trees as you walk.”

By now, the heat had built into the low 80s. Another hike did not sit high on my priority list, but darn it, I hadn’t come all the way to the Texas hill country for nothing! Slinging my camera and new Vortex Viper 8X42s over my shoulders I resolutely started marching.

Fortunately, a number of beautiful oak trees provided shade to parts of the trail. I kept stopping frequently and soon enough began hearing more Golden-cheeked Warblers. Again, they absolutely refused to be seen, even when I seemed to be standing right in front of them! As I was scouring one oak tree, though, I detected movement and a flash of yellow. My excitement rose . . . but something didn’t look quite right. Finally, I got my binoculars on the bird and I realized what it was. This wasn’t a Golden-cheeked Warbler. For me, it was even better: my lifer Yellow-throated Warbler!

**My Bird of the Day wasn’t actually the Black-capped Vireos or Golden-cheeked Warblers I’d set out to find. It ended up being my Lifer Yellow-throated Warbler—a complete surprise!**

I couldn’t have been more thrilled. On other trips, I had hoped to see one of these birds multiple times without success, but today, it hadn’t even been on my radar! The bird was every bit as beautiful as a Golden-cheeked, and a quick look at the Merlin app confirmed that I was indeed within its breeding range—but just barely. According to Cornell’s Birds of the World, it has a relatively small, disjunct breeding range in central Texas separate from its more extensive breeding range across the Southeast. While fortunately not endangered or threatened, this bird had assumed an almost mythical status in my mind and to see it now . . . well, it felt exhilarating.

**I felt both grateful and relieved to finally see a single Golden-cheeked after multiple GCWAs had taunted me all day!**

Long story short: I finally spotted a single Golden-cheeked Warbler after spending almost an hour standing in front of trees where one or another GCWA sat singing and taunting me. While I had hoped to add just the Black-capped Vireo and Golden-cheeked Warbler to my life list during my entire Texas week, I had now seen an amazing seven lifers. Even better, having tracked down the BCVI and GCWA, I now had the entire next day to pursue one more. Check out the next post for details!

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Anahuac Lifer Attack (Texas 2025 Part 2)

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After my morning exploring Peveto Woods (see last post), I had intended to visit another favorite coastal Texas location, Sabine Woods (see “Going Cuckoo for Fall Warblers in Texas”). Alas, my long previous travel day caught up with me so I decided to grab a siesta back at my hotel in Winnie. Besides, it didn’t look like the warblers and other migrants were showing up in large numbers, and I reasoned that I wasn’t likely to see much more at Sabine Woods than I’d seen at Peveto that morning. Instead, that afternoon I decided to visit another Texas favorite of Braden’s and mine: Anahuac National Wildlife Refuge.

**Braden during our first visit to Anahuac NWR in 2016.**

The refuge lies about halfway between Winnie and High Island, and Braden and I had many fond memories of it. During our Big Year in 2016, we’d seen our first Scissor-tailed Flycatcher here, along with our first Common Yellowthroat. I especially liked driving a route called the Shoveler Pond Loop. This afternoon, I didn’t expect any major surprises, but it was a pleasant way to watch Roseate Spoonbills, Common Gallinules, and a variety of other water birds. As I approached the refuge entrance, however, I got my first major surprise: the refuge had a new name! Only in the past few weeks, Anahuac had been renamed the Jocelyn Nungaray NWR. I later looked up how the name change had come about. I like to keep this blog politics-free, but I will just say that the new name resulted from both a tragic story and crass political shenanigans that apparently caught everyone off-guard. Feel free to look it up yourself and draw your own conclusions.

The good news? Shoveler Pond Loop looked better than I’d ever seen it! The loop consists of a 2.5-mile road that circumnavigates a 300-acre wetlands, and the last time I’d visited, in 2021, the latter seemed clogged with vegetation. Not so today. A large area at the loop’s beginning had been cleared out to create wonderful habitat for wading and dabbling birds and as I proceeded, I noticed many other revived sections as well. In preparation to write this post, I called the refuge to make sure that I wasn’t imagining things, and Park Ranger Chris Campbell confirmed that a couple of years ago, they had drained the wetlands and taken steps to remove large areas of cane grass.

**Shoveler Pond Loop is definitely one of my Top 5 “car birding” routes in the United States.**

The results looked terrific. As I began making my way around the loop, I immediately noticed large numbers of Black-necked Stilts and dowitchers—probably Long-billed, according to Campbell. Both Greater and Lesser Yellowlegs made a good show of it, too, and it wasn’t long before I began obsessing over some smaller shorbs. I eventually IDed two of these as Dunlins, and was especially pleased to find a Least Sandpiper as well. Alligators also seemed to relish the new-and-improved loop, and I watched with amusement as Black-necked Stilts nonchalantly probed the shallows only a few feet from the six- or eight-foot crocodilians.

**Uh, Mr. Black-necked Stilt, have you looked over your shoulder lately?**

I soon found a great collection of waders including Roseate Spoonbills, Tricolored Herons, Snowy Egrets, and both White and White-faced Ibises. It was when I turned the first corner, however, that the real excitement began.

**“Uh, just where do you think you’re landing, Mr. Tricolored Heron? Us Neotropic Cormorants and the herps over there were here first.”**

First up? A kind of duck neither Braden nor I had ever seen before: Fulvous Whistling Ducks! “Wow! Lifer!” I exclaimed out loud. For some reason, it never occurred to me that I would see these ducks, but there they were—sitting only fifty feet from their compadres, Black-bellied Whistling Ducks! And the hits were just getting started.

My first lifer of the day, Fulvous Whistling Ducks.

As I rounded the second corner, a narrow canal paralleled the road to my left, and suddenly, a medium-sized, reddish-brown bird flew out from beneath the road to some reeds across the canal. Astonishingly, it was another lifer, one that I recognized immediately: a Least Bittern! One of the smallest members of the heron family, Least Bitterns apparently are not all that rare. Ranger Campbell told me that they are very common year-round at the refuge, but the thing is, they are incredibly shy. I will just tell you that I never really expected to see one, and yet here one was! Not only that, it struck a pleasing pose while I kept my camera shutter clicking.

**Seeing my lifer Least Bittern not only justified the entire trip, it captured Bird of the Trip honors!**

I had barely started again when I noticed a couple of terns flying around. Generally while I am birding, I ignore terns and gulls until I’ve identified everything else. As one of the terns zoomed by my car, however, I noticed that it had an oddly blunt thick black bill. “No way,” I said, rushing to take some ID photos. My hunch was correct. These were Gull-billed Terns—lifer Gull-billed Terns!

**Terns favor the prepared mind. If I hadn’t been birding for more than a decade, the black bill on this guy may never have caught my attention.**

Really, I could hardly believe it. I arrived at Anahuac expecting to see birds that I had seen many times before. Now, within the space of ten minutes, I added three new species to my life list! It seemed so preposterous that I laughed out loud. What’s more, this was still only my first day of birding on my Texas trip. One thing was for sure: I never would have had such success if it weren’t for the hard-working government employees we all depend on. It just shows the wisdom of investing in protecting our natural resources for the common good.

Video Post: A Visit to Araucana Lodge (Colombia Birding Part 4)

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Roger and I could easily write another ten or twelve posts about our recent birding adventures to Colombia, but I thought it would be fun to pack a lot of our experiences into a video featuring our main destination down there, the Araucana Lodge. The video not only introduces you to the joys of lodge birding, but features some of the famous birds and birding opportunities to be had in the mountains above Cali. Since large files don’t always work well on this blog host, we embed a YouTube link below. Let us know what you think—and enjoy the show!

Click Here to see the first of our Colombian birding post!