Category Archives: Listing

Lost in Owls

As 2023 winds down, we hope you enjoy our penultimate post on one of everyone’s favorite subjects. Before that, we have some great news to share. Sneed’s picture book Border Crossings has received NCTE’s prestigious Orbis Pictus Award for nonfiction! This is one of the literary world’s top children’s book awards and was inspired by, you guessed it, Braden’s and Sneed’s birding adventures along the US Mexico border. Learn more and order by clicking here!

**Border Crossings—winner of the 2024 Orbis Pictus Award!**

Owls consistently rank among the favorite bird groups of birders, and Braden and I are no exceptions. We’ve had a pretty good year for owls in 2023. It got off to a roaring start with wonderful encounters with Long-eared Owls, Northern Pygmy-Owls, and Saw-whet Owls the first days of the year, and continued with the now-famous Northern Hawk-Owl in Wise River. Unfortunately, after that, our owl experiences stalled. We failed to see both Great Gray Owls and Snowy Owls last winter, nor even a Barred Owl. We also missed both Western and Eastern Screech Owls, though did pick up Burrowing Owls near Great Falls. When Braden got home from college a few days ago, however, we decided we would make one last effort to see perhaps our biggest miss of the year: Short-eared Owl.

**Short-eared Owls are one of our favorite Montana birds—but so far in 2023, they had totally skunked us!**

We had looked for Short-eareds multiple times in 2023, both at Ninepipe National Wildlife Refuge, and on our forays into eastern Montana. In fact, I had never gone to eastern Montana without seeing one of these spectacular creatures, but this year? Zip. Ditto at Ninepipe, where we can almost always count on at least one SEOW during the year. What was going on? Joni Mitchell’s prophetic lines haunted me:

“I’ve looked at owls from both sides now

From up and down, and still somehow

It’s owl illusions I recall

I guess I don’t know owls at all.”

Why does Joni always have to be so darned depressing? Nonetheless, when our neighbor Tim told me he’d been encountering gobs of Short-eared Owls while out hunting in the Mission Valley, Braden and I were determined to give SEOWs one last try. We parked at Tim’s spot amidst a winter wonderland of frosted fields created by low fog and freezing temperatures that have been blanketing the area for the past couple of weeks. A sign invited pedestrians into the property so unlike our other searches for SEOWs, which relied on driving rural roads for miles and miles, we zipped up our jackets, slung our optics over our shoulders, and followed a frozen dirt path out into a field.

Almost immediately, rodents (voles?) scurried in front of us while Northern Harriers circled the perimeter.

“There have got to be owls here,” I said. “Look at all this prey!”

Well, not so fast. We kept walking, expecting an owl to fly up at any moment, but no dice. We heard Canada Geese, saw magpies and a hawk or two, but no owl. As the road curved left, I decided to crunch my way over to a big group of cattails. As I paused to study it, I suddenly heard Braden shout, and spun around to see a Short-eared Owl quickly flying away!

**More often than not, we observe the rear end of a SEOW, and this one was no exception!**

For those who haven’t seen these creatures, they truly are marvels of engineering. While perched, they appear only medium-sized. Once they take off, they unfurl impossibly long, flexible wings that leave an observer breathless. Like Northern Harriers, which also hunt low over fields and marshes, listening for prey, Short-eared Owls hunt by both sight and sound, moving low and slow, their long wings giving them plenty of lift with minimal flapping. We watched, elated as this one flew in a lazy arc away from us—but it was so much fun to be out alone in the middle of this giant field that we decided to keep walking.

When a fence blocked our way, we turned right and followed an embankment along an irrigation ditch. Braden heard Marsh Wrens, and then we encountered another fence. I pride myself on having good directional sense, so I said, “Let’s head this way back toward the road.”

One advantage to the frozen ground is we could walk across normally wet places without plunging into cold water. We walked in parallel, forty or fifty feet apart, and at one point I saw Braden pause to study another group of cattails. He motioned me over, and I was stunned to see a white face with beady eyes pop out to look at me. A weasel! The mammal was in full winter “plumage,” and it was only the second one we’d ever seen in Montana, so it quickly grabbed “Bird of the Day” honors!

**This Short-tailed Weasel (we think) grabbed Bird of the Day honors as we searched for Short-eared Owls.**

But our owling, it turns out, had just begun. As we headed back toward our car, Short-eared Owls started popping up like jack-in-the-boxes! We tried to spot them on the ground so we could steer around them, but they were so well hidden in the grass and cattails that we never saw one until it took flight. Then we just stood in awe, watching it navigate on their incredible wings until they settled a couple of hundred meters away. One owl even had a little tête-à-tête with a Northern Harrier, exchanging some words neither Braden nor I could make out.

**I had the ISO of my camera cranked too high, so my owl shots are all grainy, but this photo still captures the magnificence of SEOWs.**

One thing we wondered was why the birds weren’t actively hunting. Prey scurried everywhere, and the cold air shouldn’t have been a problem for such masterful fliers. In fact, Braden and I have seen them active in all seasons and at all times of day, though they do tend to be crepuscular—most active at dawn and dusk—especially in winter. Beyond this, I am guessing that the birds were so stuffed with voles that they could afford to chill out—literally. (But see my earlier comments on my understanding of owls re: Joni Mitchell.)

After observing at least half a dozen of these glorious creatures, we finally made it back to the road. Alarmingly, our minivan had disappeared!

“Geez, where is it?” I asked. “Did someone tow it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Wait a minute,” I said. “This road is paved. Didn’t we park on a dirt road?”

“Oh, yeah,” Braden confirmed.

So much for my infallible sense of direction! As we wandered across fields, we had veered at least 90-degrees off course and ended up in a totally different place than we’d intended. Fortunately, Braden was able to use our eBird track to quickly figure out where our car was actually located. After a short hike down the paved road, and a turn right, we reunited with our faithful birding-mobile.

Seeing one of our favorite birds was a great way to wrap up our Montana birding adventures for the year and made us feel good knowing that great habitat and plenty of food still abounded for this wonderful species. The weasel (probably a Short-tailed Weasel) was also a great bonus. The Short-eared Owl pushed my Montana Year Bird list to 252 species, my second highest total ever. That number would tick over to 253 species an hour later when Braden and I saw a Northern Shrike up near Polson. Braden’s 2023 Montana total reached 198—pretty darned good considering he spent only five or six weeks in the state. None of us can predict the future, but if we all keep getting out there, we can guarantee that 2024 will bring plenty more birding adventures. What are we all waiting for?

**Braden and I hope that 2024 brings you owls—and lots of other cool birds!**

“Zoning Out” on Zonotrichia Sparrows

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You may have noticed that many of my recent posts have centered on a) sparrows and b) nemesis birds. This post will combine those topics in a way that I hope will elicit six-figure offers for film rights along with invitations to various network morning shows. Strap in, because it promises to be a thrilling ride. Or mildly entertaining. Or at least more interesting than scrubbing the bathroom sink. Here goes.

**Do you see the Golden-crowned Sparrow in this roadside pullout? I didn’t either.**

In my recent pursuits of nemesis birds (see From One Nemesis Bird to Another and Gambling on a Grouse-fecta), one bird that I have sorely neglected is the Golden-crowned Sparrow. In fact, it may have been the most common species still missing from my Montana life list. Braden and I first beheld one of these gorgeous birds at the Moonglow Dairy outside of Monterey, California while we were pursuing our first Big Year back in 2016. Since then, we’ve seen them several times in California and Oregon—which is probably why they never became a top priority for us in Montana. Nonetheless, stray GCSPs show up in Montana often enough that they should have been beeping more loudly on our radars. Last week, when Braydon Luikart (see Gambling on a Grouse-fecta) notified me that a Golden-crowned had been spotted in Missoula, well, I guess I was finally alert enough to seize the opportunity. I threw Lola into our trusty minivan and headed out to LaValle Creek Road near the airport.

As I turned onto the muddy track, it was clear that word had gotten out when I began passing a veritable Who’s Who of Missoula birding. These included avian biologist William Blake (formerly of MPG Ranch, now with the American Bird Conservancy), and veteran birders Adam Mitchell, Thomas Kallmeyer, and Di Litz. William and Adam gave me directions to the sparrow spot, and a mile or so later, I pulled over onto a muck-filled turnout.

“It should be right there,” William had told me, but when I climbed out of the car with my binoculars and camera, I didn’t see a thing. Figures, I thought. I’m going to be the only birder in Missoula who doesn’t see this bird.

I studied the surrounding bushes and road without spotting anything, then took a couple of steps forward. Suddenly, I saw movement at my feet. The Golden-crowned! It was so perfectly camouflaged with the muddy ground that my eyes scanned over it two or three times without detecting it! Talk about your easy nemesis birds! I had a nice long visit with this fellow, admiring its subtle yellow lores and crown, boldly striped back, and finely striped breast. Its gray bill indicated it was a “1^st winter bird,” fledged this past summer. Whoo-Hoo! Montana Lifer #303!

**Golden-crowned Sparrows breed in western Canada and Alaska, but a few clip Montana every year on their way to their wintering grounds along the West Coast.**

William and Adam had told me they’d seen Pine Grosbeaks and Gray-crowned Rosy-finches further up the road, so I continued on to a place locally known as “the corral.” There, I found UM grad student Tim Forrester also looking for the birds. Tim’s been all over the U.S. and many places abroad studying birds, and we had a nice conversation while waiting for other birds to show up. Alas, I guess I’d hit my limit for great birds for the day—though I did see a nice pair of American Tree Sparrows on the drive out.

As I always do after a great find, I called Braden to share the news. After congratulating me, he asked, “You know what this means, don’t you?” “Uh, no.”

“It means,” he said, “that you’ve seen all four of Montana’s Zonotrichia sparrow species!” He recounted the four species for me, and I realized that they were four of my favorite sparrows: White-crowned, White-throated, Harris’s, and now Golden-crowned. What’s more, I’d seen all but Harris’s Sparrow this year.

**Braden and I find White-throated Sparrows almost every fall in Missoula—but we have to work hard for them.**

“But what exactly are Zonotrichia sparrows?” you may be asking. Good question!

Birds in the genus Zonotrichia are among our largest sparrows. They all have heavily-streaked backs and are ground-feeders, snagging seeds, grain, insects, and spiders. At first, their bold head markings look quite different from each other, but if you compare the four species side-by-side, you will see that they bear strong similarities. White-crowned Sparrows (see Welcoming White-crowned Sparrows—with Observer Bias) and White-throated Sparrows (see March Madness Birding in Missouri) have the widest distributions and are probably the “Zones” that people are most familiar with. In Montana, Harris’s probably have the greatest cool factor. Braden and I have seen them only once together (see A Quest for Snowy Owls), and I saw them once more a couple of years ago. No two ways about it, though, adding Golden-crowned to my Montana list made my day.

**Only the second Harris’s Sparrow I’d ever found—while looking for loons with Amy at Seeley Lake. And no, we didn’t find the loons!**

I’m not quite finished zoning out, however. So far, I’ve mentioned four species of Zonotrichia, but there’s a fifth, and it’s one almost anyone visiting Latin America will recognize: the Rufous-collared Sparrow. Braden and I first encountered these handsome critters during our 2017 family trip to Ecuador and Peru, though I’m sure I saw them in Costa Rica before I became a birder. In fact, this is probably the most common bird we saw in urban and suburban settings—so common, that we soon began taking them for granted. I hereby pledge not to ever do that again. Meanwhile, wherever you are, I invite you to zone out for yourself. Especially if you live in the southern half of the U.S., the West Coast, and much of the Atlantic seaboard, I guarantee there’s some Zonotrichia near you. Braden and I will be waiting for your reports!

White-crowned Update: In writing my recent post “Welcoming White-Crowneds,” published October 1st, I felt pretty sure that I had seen my last White-crowned for the season. However, just yesterday, October 31st, I saw yet another one out at the Fort Missoula Gravel Quarry, reinforcing my feeling that these “Zoned-Out” birds are having a very good year!

**The “Fifth Zone,” Rufous-collared Sparrows were our constant companions during our 2017 family trip to Ecuador and Peru.** **(Photo by Braden Collard—no relation to Rufous Collard.)**

Gambling on a Grouse-fecta

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“One down, two to go,” I said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

I slammed the brakes. “Grouse!”

“Spruce Grouse!” Braydon confirmed.

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

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

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

It wasn’t.

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

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

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

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

From One Nemesis Bird to Another

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Before sharing my recent search for nemesis birds, a quick update on our last post, “Welcoming White-crowned Sparrows—with Observer Bias”. In the post, I discussed how the apparent abundance of White-crowned Sparrows coming through western Montana this year may have to do more with my birding effort than actual sparrow numbers. Well, after I published the post, several birders around the state shared that they also have been seeing unusually high numbers of White-crowneds. This greater “sample size” of observations leads me to believe that the birds might be having an exceptional year after all. Go White-crowneds! This last Monday, in fact, I saw another WCSP feeding with some American Goldfinches. Will it be my last observation of the season?

**There’s not many better things in life than birding in the Mission Valley on a glorious fall day—even when nemesis birds are eluding you!**

In recent posts, I have shared my foiled attempts at finding one of my biggest nemesis birds, Spruce Grouse. Here in Montana, I have started to become known as “The guy who’s never seen a Spruce Grouse.” It’s not my favorite moniker, but well, I am learning to live with it. To distract me from my shame, last week I decided to look for a different nemesis bird: American Golden-Plover.

Arguably one of America’s most stunning birds during breeding season, the AGPL has thwarted Braden and me here in Montana at least a dozen times. Every year, birders spot the plovers up in the Mission Valley north of us, and countless times we have saddled our trusty minivan and galloped up to Ninepipe National Wildlife Refuge or Pablo Reservoir—only to find no American Golden-Plovers in sight. Braden did finally find one in Maine a couple of years ago (see his post “A Montana Nemesis Bird in Maine”), but the arrival of 2023 still saw the absence of this marquis bird on my Life List, let alone my or Braden’s Montana lists. This has obviously caused us great pain and anguish, so when I saw that someone had observed six, count ‘em SIX, American Golden-Plovers up at Ninepipe last week, I had to seriously ask myself if I wanted to put myself through yet more misery.

My answer, with Braden’s encouragement: Yes.

**The second of two Peregrine Falcons I would see this day. Definitely PEFA migration season!**

As a result, last Thursday, I woke early, walked Lola, and then headed north on 93. My first stop? Ninepipe. I usually begin my explorations here with a drive down Duck Road, but today I was a man on a mission, so I entered at the bottom end of the refuge. Almost immediately, I spotted small shorebirds at the edge of a pond and pulled over to get out my spotting scope. Before I could get my eyes on them, though, a large dark shape swooped in and the shorebirds frantically flung themselves into the sky. Peregrine Falcon! my mind shouted as I excitedly watched the raptor give chase. The falcon and shorebirds circled the pond twice, but then fled toward the horizon. I had failed to get a look at the shorbs, but seeing a Peregrine was a thrilling start to the day!

**They weren’t the plovers I was looking for, but it’s always, ahem, great to see Greater Yellowlegs in Montana.**

After climbing back into the car, I continued to wind my way north, getting glances at Trumpeter Swans and several kinds of ducks. I also got great looks at a trio of American Pipits on the road. My major destination, though, was the dam on the west side of the main lake. There, I observed several Greater Yellowlegs and, driving a bit farther, a couple of other shorebirds on the muddy shore below. I quickly parked and began breaking out my spotting scope when a car pulled up containing yet another impressive trio: accomplished Montana birders Craig Hohenberger, Shawn Richmond, and Braydon Luikart! I had last met Craig all the way out in Westby this past summer so it was a nice surprise to see him here again now, and to chat with all of them.

“Are you the one who is trying to find the Spruce Grouse?” Shawn asked.

“Well, uh, yeah,” I sheepishly replied. “But today I’m looking for American Golden-Plovers.”

Shawn knows the Mission Valley like the back of her hand, and said, “They should be around.” She then gave me the name of a place she had seen them only in the past few days.

“Thanks,” I told her, “I’ll check that out.”

First, though, I wanted to scope the ground in front of me. To my surprise, the pair of shorebirds below me turned out to be Pectoral Sandpipers—Year Birds for me and, I suspect, what the Peregrine Falcon had been going after earlier. Again, though, no golden-plovers, so I packed up my scope and moved on.

**Still no golden-plovers, but it was great to see Pectoral Sandpipers for the first time this year.**

In a tradition Braden and I have followed since we began birding, I grabbed an egg biscuit at the McDonald’s in Ronan, and continued on to another well-known place for sighting AGPLs, Pablo Reservoir. Again, I began at the south end and slowly continued north on top of the dam. I was delighted to discover a pair of Baird’s Sandpipers scouring the shore in the company of half a dozen American Pipits. The gurgling calls of Sandhill Cranes ricocheted across the water as I looked out on hundreds of geese, ducks, gulls—and a lone American White Pelican. A dark shape perched on a little rock on the far mudflats, and I trained my scope on it with a strong suspicion. Yes! It was another Peregrine Falcon! I was definitely hitting migration season for those! As for the American Golden-Plovers???

Nada. Zilch. Klum.

**Though the golden-plovers again foiled me at Pablo Reservoir, I got my best look of the year at a couple of Baird’s Sandpipers!**

Normally, that would have been the end of my day—except for running into Shawn Richmond earlier. “I’m here,” I told myself. “I have plenty of iced tea. I might as well check out the spot she told me about.”

I punched up the location on Google Maps and it showed a 25-minute drive. Though an official hotspot, it definitely sat off the beaten path enough to receive fewer visitors. I parked behind an abandoned house of some sort and could see that viewing would be less than ideal. A lake lay several hundred meters away, but the near shore was obscured by vegetation while the far shore shimmered another couple of hundred meters beyond that. Nonetheless, even through my binoculars I could see that there were birds on that far shore. Even better, I felt pretty sure they were shorebirds!

I assembled my scope and began tromping across the field, hoping I wouldn’t scare any of the distant birds. I didn’t, but before I could get closer, a Northern Harrier did, and the birds on shore scattered before I had any hope of identifying them. I cursed at my luck, but then, amazingly . . . the birds came back! This spectacle, it turns out, would repeat itself quite a few times during my short visit.

**A Northern Harrier kept stirring up the shorebirds as I was trying to ID them. Don’t tell the shorebirds, but I think the harrier had its sights on other prey!**

I got my scope focused and picked out about a dozen each Greater Yellowlegs, Killdeer, and Pectoral Sandpipers—but they weren’t what got my heart beating. Among the other birds, I also saw three distinct shapes. Plover shapes. Large plover shapes. Zeroing in on them, I got even more excited. They definitely could be what I was looking for!

One problem with finding American Golden-Plovers is that in nonbreeding plumage, they are challenging to distinguish from Black-bellied Plovers. That’s not as much of a problem when Black-bellieds are in breeding plumage as they were here when Braden and I visited Benton Lake NWR near Great Falls last summer.

The problem is this: the plovers were not breeding males. Instead, they were in their much drabber juvenile or nonbreeding plumage, and that meant that they possibly could be either Black-bellied Plovers or American Golden-Plovers. I had seen nonbreeding Black-bellied Plovers several times—but didn’t have enough experience with them to say, “Those are NOT Black-bellied Plovers out there in front of me.” Still, thinking back on prior experiences, and studying my Sibley phone app, I had a hunch these might just be my nemesis Amercian Golden-Plovers. For one thing, their bodies and necks seemed slimmer than Black-bellied Plovers. They also gave off a kind of smooth, grayish sheen on their bellies whereas I remembered BBPLs as being whiter and more distinct.

**It looked like an American Golden-Plover, but was it??? I would have to wait to hear from Braden to be sure!**

Bottom line: I just wasn’t sure.

I took tons of lousy photos, and as soon as I got home, sent them to Braden. A couple of hours later, he called me from Maine. “Daddy!” he exclaimed. “You saw American Golden-Plovers!” We then proceeded to detail the various aspects of his ID. Not only was it a great learning process, it felt good to be able to share this nemesis sighting with my son from all the way across the continent. AGPL, finally, after many years, became my 301^st Montana Life Bird and the 997^th on my Life List.

I’ll bet you can guess what I hope number 998 will be!

Birding Japan: Return to Tokyo and Trip Wrap

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Since we published them, our birding posts about Japan have been read in more than a dozen countries. If you are planning your own trip to Japan, you’re in luck! Sneed’s new book, FIRST-TIME JAPAN: A STEP-BY-STEP GUIDE FOR THE INDEPENDENT TRAVELER, tells you everything you need to know about how to plan your trip to this remarkable, yet sometimes intimidating, country. Order now by clicking here.

This wraps up Sneed’s birding adventures in Japan. We hope you’ve enjoyed these posts, especially if you might be contemplating a birding or, more likely, semi-birding trip to this remarkable country. If this is your first time seeing these posts, please do start at the beginning so you can enjoy them all the way through. Thanks for tuning in!

After our tour around the southern part of Honshu, returning to Tokyo felt like coming home for Tessa and me, but our excitement for the world’s largest megalopolis remained undimmed. While we’d spent our first stint near Tokyo Station, I chose Shibuya for our second Tokyo visit of four nights. As expected, this part of town immediately seemed a lot more “swinging” than Tokyo Station, with gazillions of young people streaming between trains, malls, restaurants, and, well, you name it. Even better, Shibuya Station is home to the famous statue of Hachiko—the subject of a wonderful picture book by Pamela S. Turner and a pretty awful movie with Richard Gere. Having written my own heart-rending dog book, Shep—Our Most Loyal Dog, I naturally felt great affection for Hachiko.

Well, I tried birding Shibuya at night, but you can see there were a lot of distractions!

I felt less sure of my birding strategy from Shibuya, but several large parks beckoned. I also had left my beloved headlamp at the hotel near Tokyo Station, giving me an excuse to drag Tessa across town to what turned out to be one of our favorite Tokyo places, Ueno Park. The southern part of the park in particular has a large area of reed beds conducive to watching waterfowl, gulls, cormorants, and other birds.

I honestly hadn’t expected much from Ueno Park, but Tessa and I truly enjoyed it. Hint: as you’re traversing it, walk up (or down) the EAST side of the park to avoid getting lost in a neighborhood.

Rather than give a blow-by-blow of Tokyo, though, I’d like to use this last post to briefly reflect on my overall impressions of birding in Japan—keeping in mind that my experiences were somewhat limited by our decision to travel almost exclusively by public transport and that we didn’t go to any great lengths to reach any truly wild regions of the country. Then again, that is how most people visit Japan (unless they are shackled to tour buses), so my reflections may have some resonance for you.

A not-so-well kept secret is the observation deck in the Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building in Shinjuku. From here we got a great view of Yoyogi Park and the Meiji Jingu Shrine area.

First, I didn’t find what I consider a great diversity of birds in Japan. The country has an impressive overall total, but my guess is that many of these require travel to the extreme northern and southern points of the country. Then again, as only a modestly skilled birder, I often find that less is more. Before our trip, I learned probably 70 or 80 birds—which, to be honest, was about my capacity. Also, while I thought we might hit migration season, that did not seem to be the case. Most of the birds I saw at the end of March and beginning of April appeared to be year-round residents. A month later . . . who knows?

My last birding excursion of the trip was to Gyoen National Garden, perhaps the loveliest Tokyo park I visited on the trip–and the site of my last Japan life bird, a Pale Thrush.

Second, Japan does have very cool birds. I loved getting to know the common birds such as Black Kite, Brown-eared Bulbul, White-cheeked Starling, Japanese Tit, Dusky Thrush, and Eastern Spot-billed Duck. Added to these were some truly adrenaline-producing species such as Japanese Wagtail, Daurian Redstart, Little Ringed Plover, Japanese Pygmy Woodpecker, and Bull-headed Shrike. Bottom line: even in tourist areas, birders can reap big rewards by birding Japan.

One of the real surprises of birding Japan was seeing a Northern Goshawk—a bird I’ve seen only three or four times in Montana. This is a sensitive species in Japan, so I can’t share where I saw it, but it was a trip highlight for sure.

Third, if I am fortunate enough to return to Japan, I definitely want to explore some of the more way-out places. Tessa and I invariably loved the places we visited that were more off the beaten path such as Sendai and Kanazawa, and I can only imagine what it might be like to visit tropical southern Japan and the oft-frozen isle of Hokkaido.

Even the airports in Japan are way cool. Once we got our bags checked at Haneda, we found this delightful little restaurant for one last good Japanese meal.

Fourth . . . well there is no fourth. It was an amazing trip, and birding played a significant role in my enjoyment of this unique, friendly, accessible country. With that, here are some stats for the curious . . .

Number of eBird Checklists: 27

Number of Species Observed: 56

Number of New Life Birds: 37

Species I’ve also seen in the US: 13

Most Common Bird by Number of Individuals: Brown Eared Bulbul (194 birds, just beating out Large-billed Crow with 193)

Most Surprising Bird: Northern Goshawk!!!

Favorite Bird: (tie) Japanese Wagtail & Bull-headed Shrike

Major Lesson: Keep Birding!