Category Archives: Migration

Bluebird Day at Browns Lake!

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With all of our recent posts about Costa Rica, you’re probably wondering if we ever bird in Montana anymore! Never fear, we do—a lot! Today we report on an adventure that delivered some remarkable early migration surprises. If you’d like to support our work at FSB, please consider purchasing some of Sneed’s books shown to the right—and support a group such as Birdlife International or Audubon that is working hard to protect birds against climate change and many other perils. Remember: all of our posts are written and photographed by REAL PEOPLE!

I don’t know if it’s because of our recent trip to Costa Rica, my subsequent trip to California, or just the usual spring excitement, but I’ve felt especially eager to get out birding in Montana this spring. At least part of it has to with wanting to learn more about the timing of migration, especially in a year in which Montana hardly experienced winter. How would this impact the birds? I wondered. Would we see things showing up especially early? Fortunately, our friend Susan Snetsinger has felt just as eager to explore, so the past couple of weeks Susan and I have taken all-day adventures to some of our favorite western Montana birding locations. Two weeks ago, we visited Warm Springs and the impressively “remodeled” Lexington Street Pond and wetlands in downtown Butte. We were rewarded with a great variety of waterfowl, including Snow Geese at both locations. The highlight of the day was undoubtedly a great look at a Golden Eagle on the dirt road between Racetrack Pond and Warm Springs.

Snow Geese are always something to celebrate in Montana—including this group at Butte’s fabulously restored Lexington Street wetlands area.

A few days ago, though, Susan and I had a different ambition: to post the season’s first eBird checklist for Browns Lake. This is one of Braden’s and my favorite birding locations, and I don’t think it has ever failed to disappoint. Not only is it a go-to place for breeding Red-necked Grebes and Black Terns, we have found a lot of uncommon species there including Long-tailed Ducks, Pacific Loons, and Ross’s Geese. Notably, this is where Braden made the astounding discovery of a Bay-breasted Warbler two years ago—one of just a handful of sightings ever recorded from western Montana.

Although Browns (sic) Lake is frozen for a good part of the year, it has never disappointed us as a birding destination and we were eager to see what it held so early in the spring.

One challenge with Browns Lake is that it stays frozen until relatively late in the season and I noticed on eBird that no one had yet birded it this year. I wasn’t sure if it had begun to thaw, but I asked Susan if she was game to check it out. She was—and even brought along yummy fried egg and cheese bagels to fuel our adventures.

On the drive up Highway 200, we were rewarded by two pairs of Sandhill Cranes and a glimpse of a Mountain Bluebird—perhaps a preview of things to come? We hoped so, and upon arriving at Browns Lake, were not disappointed. Right near where Braden had discovered the Bay-breasted Warbler, we got out of the car to find a delightful “finchy” mixed flock containing Red Crossbills, Pine Siskins, Evening Grosbeaks, and Cassin’s Finches.

We’re not sure why (though fish and/or animal carcasses probably have something to do with it), but Browns Lake often boasts vigorous Bald Eagle activity—and our early spring visit was no exception. Here, two youngsters contemplate the meaning of ice on this brisk sunny day.

As the lake came into view, we were relieved to see at least a third of it offered open water—and that the waterfowl were not shy about taking advantage! Within twenty minutes, we recorded fifteen species of ducks and geese, including the year’s first Montana Northern Pintails and a lone FOY Cinnamon Teal. A flock of 18-20 Snow Geese erupted out of the fields on the far side of the lake and settled in beneath a huge irrigation line. Even though a brisk wind dropped the wind chill into the teens, we looked hard through our scope for any Ross’s Geese, but came up empty.

Elk anyone? Even though they are mere mammals, this herd against the dramatic background induced us to pull over for an admiring look.

As has become my new routine, I directed Susan out the far side of the lake toward the Ovando-Helmville dirt road, and we were rewarded by two Northern Shrikes (Susan is certain they were separate birds), and a couple more Mountain Bluebirds. After turning left toward Helmville, we hadn’t gone a mile when we saw a sizeable flock of birds badly backlit by the sun.

“Are they some kind of blackbirds?” Susan wondered, and they did look black because of the sun, but I didn’t know. Then, she said, “There are more bluebirds over here.” “There’s a couple over here, too,” I added, still thinking they had nothing to do with the flock we’d just seen.

The bottom line? The flock we had just observed consisted entirely of Mountain Bluebirds!

At first, we weren’t sure what these flocking birds might be, backlit against the sun, but this photo reveals the truth.

This blew both Susan and I away. Neither of us had ever seen more than three or four Mountain Bluebirds at a time, and had no inkling that they ever formed large flocks. Yet here was the evidence in front of us, and we spent a good fifteen minutes watching them forage and swirl around us. Once, a group of at least sixty took to the sky together, only to settle back into the grass a few moments later. Meanwhile, others kept crossing the road in front and back of us, occasionally landing on the fence next to our car.

The Mountain Bluebirds were so active around us that I dared not hope to get a photo of one—until this guy perched 15 feet away from the car window!

We finally pulled ourselves away, wondering if local ranchers observed this kind of grouping every year. I later read up on MOBLs and found one or two mentions of them forming flocks in winter, but it didn’t seem like a well-known phenomenon. Susan and I both agreed that these cavity-nesting birds must be migrating. From here would they spread out into the surrounding mountains? Or did they still have a long way to go before trying to find their own breeding territories? As biologist Dick Hutto had taught me, Mountain Bluebirds especially love recent burn areas where woodpeckers carve out plenty of “condos” in the dead trees (see my book Fire Birds: Valuing Natural Wildfires and Burned Forests). I wondered if, as a flock, they might be better at finding recent burn areas—or did flocking impart other benefits such as greater predator or food detection?

After the Browns Lake area, we headed toward Helena, hoping to find a recently reported Lesser Black-backed Gull. Though I’d seen this species in Israel and again in Oregon, this would be a Montana lifer for me and an outright lifer for Susan.

It was not to be.

At the Helena Regulating Reservoir, we saw plenty of gulls, but many were too far away for our scope, and the ones we did see did not have the dark wings we were looking for. The trip wasn’t a waste, however, as we observed more than sixty Common Mergansers and at least ten Red-breasted Mergansers, also clearly in migration. In fact, the window to see RBMEs is quite tight in Montana, so it was nice to pick them up for 2026.

Though we missed the Lesser Black-backed Gull, the Helena Regulating Reservoir was hosting a “regulating” merganser-pa-looza!

Speaking of 2026, both Braden and I have excellent chances to accidentally break our world Big Year records. My record, set last year, is 552, and only a quarter of the way into this year, I’m at 422. This is not as much of a gimme as it sounds since many of the birds I’ve seen in Costa Rica and California are birds I would normally check off in Montana, but with a little luck and persistence, I feel I will get there. Braden’s record, meanwhile, is 867 and he is already at 546, with hopes to bird abroad at least one more time this year. We no longer put a lot of stock into numbers like these, but they’re a fun thing to keep an eye on.

After saying goodbye to the Helena Regulating Reservoir, Susan and I did a little more birding and then got lunch in downtown Helena. I only mention it because we ate at an excellent little crepe place called—what else?—The Creperie. It featured outstanding food and reasonable prices. It’s open until 3 p.m. most days and is located right next to the lower entrance of the walking part of Last Chance Gulch. If you’ve got the post-birding munchies, check it out!

Our first-of-the-year Browns Lake checklist: https://ebird.org/checklist/S313329879

A World on the Wing (Book Review)

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With fewer birds around, winter is an excellent chance to catch up on bird-related reading, both for enjoyment and education. I find this a perfect time to check out both new bird-related titles, and older books that I have somehow overlooked. Speaking of the latter, during the December holiday my father-in-law handed me Scott Weidensaul’s remarkable 2021 release, A World on the Wing: The Global Odyssey of Migratory Birds (W. W. Norton). I’m so glad that he did!

An easy reading style, engaging storytelling, and fascinating information render A WORLD ON THE WING one of a handful of required reading books for birders. (Click on the image for ordering information.)

In A World on the Wing, Weidensaul manages to take an overwhelming body of global information about bird migration and distill it into a series of stories that give the reader a captivating picture of what’s going on out there. The book’s first chapter hooked me immediately with the author’s visit to one of the world’s most vital shorebird stopover sites—and one I knew almost nothing about—the mudflats surrounding the Yellow Sea. These mudflats are nothing less than the linchpin to the East Asian-Australasian Flyway (EAAF), a vast, complicated series of routes used by millions of birds migrating from the Southern Hemisphere to breeding grounds in the far north. According to an online UNESCO article, about ten percent of all migrating birds on the EAAF depend on the Yellow Sea stopover area. They include two of the planet’s rarest shorebirds, the “Spoonie”, or Spoon-billed Sandpiper, with a population estimate of about 500 or fewer, and Nordman’s Greenshank with fewer than 2,000 individuals. Beyond that, the area provides critical support to 400 other bird species, including 45 considered threatened.

My 2023 visit to Japan highlighted how extensively crucial habitats for migrating birds have been gobbled up and polluted by development across the globe.
These two Little Ringed Plovers were the only shorebirds I saw on this beach visit to Kanazawa, Japan. I suspect severe habitat degratdation had at least something to do with it.

This first chapter sets the tone for a global, diverse journey through myriad aspects of bird migration. One chapter focuses on the incredible physiological adaptations of migrating birds, including their abilities to sleep on the wing, reduce or increase the size of internal organs to optimize weight and function, and navigate by taking advantage of quantum physics. Other chapters focus on species or groups of migrating birds across the globe. Some of these birds, such as the Kirtland’s Warbler and Snowy Owl, will be familiar to many readers while others, such as Bar-tailed Godwits and Amur Falcons, are less so. Every chapter, though, is filled not only with revelations, but personal anecdotes and experiences that make the stories come alive.

While many key stopover sites have been protected in North America, our own migrating bird numbers continue to plummet. Shorebird species have been especially hard-hit. (Shown here: Dunlins at Fort Stevens State Park, Oregon.)

Taken as a whole, the book serves as an impassioned plea to protect migratory birds and, well, just do things better on this planet. The crucial mudflats of the Yellow Sea, for instance, are critically imperiled by industrial development, pollution, and interruption of sediment flow caused by thousands of dams across China’s rivers. It’s not that the loss of these mudflats would put a dent in bird populations. It could wipe them out. The author quotes one scientist as saying, “There is no more buffer. There is no more ‘somewhere else’ for these migrants.” The threats to migrating birds are multiple and widespread, varying only in their particulars. In some places, pesticides take terrible tolls. In other places, it’s illegal hunting for local culinary specialties. Almost everywhere, habitat loss and climate change loom large.

In Cyprus, Italy, France, and other countries, millions of migrating songbirds are needlessly and illegally slaughtered to satisfy traditional and/or eccentric culinary tastes. According to an Audubon article, at least 157 species are caught, including 90 species of conservation concern. (Shown here: European Robin.)

Somehow, the author manages to balance these threats with the overarching wonder of bird migration and leaves the reader feeling hopeful—or at least determined—along with being much better informed. This balance, along with the engaging writing style and storytelling make this one of a handful of bird-related books that I consider required reading for anyone interested in birds and conservation.

Order this book at your local independent bookstore!

Books for the Happy Holiday Birder (FSB Shopping Guide, Part 2)

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If you’re like me, you never read quite as many books as you’d like. This year, though, I was very fortunate to read and review some outstanding bird-related titles that you’re going to want to consider for your holiday buying. Most—but not all—of these were published in 2025 or late 2024. I’ve also included a few books that aren’t solely about birds—but give great insights into how to protect them. Of course, you will want to begin your shopping with eight or ten copies of my book Birding for Boomers—And Everyone Else Brave Enough to Embrace the World’s Most Rewarding and Frustrating Activity. This popular gift book has received half a dozen awards and even made a couple of bestseller’s lists. Once you’ve placed that order, however, you’ll want to check out the titles below. Please note: we receive no compensation for any of these recommendations (other than a free review copy or two), so the thoughts are all our own. Enjoy!

Purely Enjoyable Bird Storytelling

Let’s start with the “most fun” category of reading—great storytelling that just happens to be about birds. In the past, I’ve recommended such titles as Christopher Skaife’s The Ravenmaster, Joshua Hammer’s The Falcon Thief, and Tim Gallagher’s classic, Imperial Dreams. My favorite title from this year’s reading is Tim Birkhead’s The Great Auk: Its Extraordinary Life, Hideous Death and Mysterious Afterlife. This wonderful, often whimsical tale focuses on an extinct species most of us have heard of, but know little about. Birkhead gets totally into Bird Nerd mode by both explaining the biology and history of the Great Auk, and tracing some of the antics of egg collectors who were totally obsessed with obtaining Great Auk eggs. You’ll love this! See our full review here.

The Great Auk by Tim Birkhead (Bloomsbury, 2025)

Also on the short list for this category is Bruce M. Beehler’s Flight of the Godwit, a must-read for anyone interested in the remarkable lives of shorebirds—and who isn’t? Through the tales of his own peregrinations, Beehler follows the migrations of many of North America’s most charismatic shorebirds, telling us all kinds of cool things that I certainly never knew before. See our full review here.

Birding Memoirs

My top pick for this category is Christian Cooper’s 2023 book, Better Living Through Birding: Notes from a Black Man in the Natural World. I admit that I put off reading this book for a couple of years after it came out. It’s sheer popularity made me insanely jealous as an author, but once I picked it up, I was captivated. Cooper’s down-to-earth honesty about his life and passion for birds sucked me right in, both with its engaging storytelling and how it broadened my perspective on birding in our culture.

My second pick for this category is Richard L. Hutto’s new book, A Beautifully Burned Forest: Learning to Celebrate Severe Forest Fire. This book is half memoir and half science book and I enjoyed both parts equally. Perhaps as a fellow Southern Californian, I especially related to Hutto’s boyhood experiences exploring the chaparral ecosystem, but I also appreciated Hutto’s impassioned plea to bring common sense to fire management, especially when it comes to protecting burned forests from the ravages of so-called “salvage” logging. See our full review here.

Oh, and if you’re wanting to learn all about Braden’s and my early years of birding, don’t miss my classic first adult book, Warblers and Woodpeckers: A Father-Son Big Year of Birding!

In-Depth Group Guides

Advanced Bird Nerds will definitely want to add Amar Ayyash’s The Gull Guide: North America to their holiday shopping lists this year. Like most birders, I have been—and remain—incredibly intimidated by gulls. Sure, I recognize the adult plumages of many species, but when you start getting into hybrid gulls and first-, second-, and third-year plumage variations, my brain and confidence begin to melt. The Gull Guide does not solve this problem, but it does accomplish two important things. First, it gives great insight into gulls for the casual birder. Second, it offers myriad minute details for those who are bound and determined to become experts on everything gull. Both of these things are accomplished with an extensive, remarkable collection of photos that serve to educate and guide. See our full review here.

A less technical book that may be more to the taste of the casual birder is The Shorebirds of North America: A Natural History and Photographic Celebration by Pete Dunne and Kevin T. Karlson. This beautiful book strikes a nice balance between detail and readability. A lot, but not all, of the information is fairly general, but the photos are wonderful and if you’re a shorb fan, you will enjoy it. See our full review here.

Three More for the Planet

I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention three more titles that made a big impact on me this year. The first is Sea of Grass: The Conquest, Ruin, and Redemption of Nature on the American Prairie by Dave Hage and Josephine Marcotty. I thought I knew all about the tragic history of the destruction of America’s grasslands. I did not. This highly readable book provides astonishing insights into how we lost most of our grasslands—and why that destruction continues today. Grassland birds are our most imperiled group of birds, losing at least forty percent of their collective populations in just the last fifty years. If you care about these animals and want to know what we can do to slow their precipitous demise, please read this one!

Similarly, Jordan Thomas’s When It All Burns: Fighting Fire in a Transformed World, gives us an inside look at the often counterproductive politics and decision-making behind today’s “fire fighting industrial complex.” With riveting storytelling and astonishing revelations, this is a perfect companion to Hutto’s A Beautifully Burned Forest.

And if you’re wrestling with how to keep from being overwhelmed in today’s world, where we are confronted by one environmental threat after another, I highly recommend the late Thich Nhat Hanh’s Zen and the Art of Saving the Planet. I read a few pages of this every morning and I gotta say that it helps keep me sane in our complicated, highly imperiled world. Not only does it raise serious questions about how we all live, it provides approaches and encouragement for how each of us can truly make a difference.

Don’t miss our holiday guides to birding equipment and, in our next post, charitable giving!

The “Hoax” of Climate Change and Birding the Rocky Mountain Front

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It’s remarkable that as the impacts of climate change rapidly accelerate across the planet many of our leaders have doubled-down on the myth that climate change is a hoax being perpetuated by “stupid people.” Here’s the thing: To realize how quickly and dramatically warming temperatures are changing our planet, you don’t have to be a climate scientist. You simply have to look around. 100- or even 1000-year weather events are happening every few years in many places, generating catastrophic winds, storms, flooding, and drought. Even since I moved to Montana thirty years ago, summers are hotter, winters are milder, and snowpack is disappearing more quickly. Especially in eastern Montana, drought conditions seem to be setting in for the long haul. Braden and I have seen dramatic evidence of this all over the state (see, for example, my post “Birding Glacier National Park in the Hot Dry Winter of 2024”). Two weeks ago, I had a chance to again witness severe drought when I birded the Rocky Mountain front from Freezeout Lake up to the east side of Glacier National Park.

The DRY Dock of the Bay: A rapidly receding shore left this dock high and dry at Eureka Reservoir.

I left Missoula Saturday at the modest hour of 7 a.m. Days are shorter by the end of September so there was less urgency to hit the road early. Just as crucially, Highway 200, which would lead me up and over the Continental Divide, can be a notorious kill zone for deer, elk, and moose at dawn and I thought that waiting an extra hour might keep me and my minivan from ending up in a crumpled heap by the side of the road. My later departure paid off. I managed to spot the two potential deer collisions with plenty of time to brake and after a quick stop near Browns Lake, I arrived at my first destination by 9:30.

I had debated whether to visit Benton NWR near Great Falls or head straight to Freezeout, but eBird reports from the latter proved more enticing so I cast my lot there. As they always do, my excitement levels rose as I passed the refuge headquarters and then turned left to scan the southern bodies of water. It had been a while since I’d visited Freezeout this time of year, and I wasn’t sure what to expect since many birds had undoubtedly departed for their southerly wintering grounds. Rumbling along the gravel road, I did scare up a few Horned Larks and a couple of Western Meadowlarks looking faded and shabby. I also saw that the entire area was as dry and crispy as I’d ever seen it. In good years, water can be found in ditches, shallow pans next to the roads, and elsewhere, but now it was confined to the main lakes on my right. Still, I could see birds on the water.

At the very southern end of the refuge, I spotted about thirty-five American White Pelicans along with some coots, barely identifiable American Avocets, and unidentified, distant ducks. I soon backtracked, though, to where I had noted greater potential.

I parked at a pull-out camping area next to a dike/road that led out between two of the large lakes. I couldn’t drive out there, so I shouldered my camera, binoculars, and spotting scope and did what every dedicated birder does: schleps! Am I glad that I did. Almost immediately, I noticed several small birds working some mud off to my right. I ID’ed a couple as Horned Larks, but had a hunch about others so I quickly set up my scope and indeed saw that they were American Pipits! I absolutely love these guys. In Montana, they breed at high altitude, but in spring and fall you can find them migrating through the lowlands. Unfortunately, I had missed them this spring, so that made it doubly sweet to see them now. Even better, it moved me one bird closer to breaking my all-time one-year species count record!

American Pipits working the recently receded shoreline of one of Freezeout’s main lakes.

As I resumed walking, I suddenly spotted a large raptor flying low and erratically over fields to my left. My first guess normally would be Northern Harrier, but this was my lucky day. The bird wasn’t a harrier, but a Short-eared Owl! It had been years since I’d seen one here and I couldn’t have been more delighted. These are some of my and Braden’s favorite birds, but we never know when we’ll encounter them. To emphasize the point, the bird was listed as unreported on the eBird filter (presumably just for this time of year), showing how unpredictable the birds can be.

Another in my now-famous series of lousy Short-eared Owl photos! After all, I have a reputation to uphold!

Another couple of hundred yards brought me close enough to set up the scope on the birds I was seeing far out on the water. There were groups of ducks, but those didn’t interest me. What did was a group of about forty or fifty shorebirds. Even with the scope, I wasn’t as close as I would have liked, but their very long bills, pale superciliums (the bands above their eyes) and “oil drilling” probing of the shallows said “Long-billed Dowitchers.” Then, I began to doubt myself. Their bills were so long and from a distance, I could imagine that some of them seemed slightly upturned. “Could they be godwits?” I asked myself, suddenly thrown into confusion. I kept studying them, eventually coming back to dowitchers. What cinched it is that when they took flight I could clearly see the single white stripes running down their backs. Godwits don’t have that. When they again landed, I realized that their numbers had also doubled to about ninety.

Dowitchers always make me happy. I just hope that humans can get our act together in time to make sure they have enough water in the future.

I spent almost an hour studying the water from the dike, and in addition to the Long-billed Dowitchers, I found four sandpipers that I thought were Baird’s Sandpipers but could have been Pectoral Sandpipers—they were just a bit too far away to be sure. I did ID several distant Black-bellied Plovers, too. The rest of Freezeout didn’t offer up much. I saw three Eared Grebes and a Canvasback hidden among scads of Canada Geese and intermolt ducks that were probably mostly Mallards. A stop at Priest’s Lake, however, yielded 2,500—you read that correctly—twenty-five hundred Ruddy Ducks! Ruddies, of course, are one of the BEST ducks, but I’d never seen even close to these numbers before. During fall migration, I guess they like each other’s company!

One of my birding goals lately is to try to bird new areas and on my way up to East Glacier, where I would be spending the night, I made two more stops: Eureka Reservoir north of Choteau and Lake Frances near Valier. Neither yielded anything exceptional, but I did pick up my First-of-the-Year Snow Goose, a single specimen at Lake Frances. What both places strongly reinforced was the critical water situation in this part of the world. Both bodies of water had retreated huge distances from their historic lake shores. It’s difficult to tell what percentage of water they’ve lost, but I’d guess that both were at least three-quarters empty.

Lake Frances offered up the most visible impacts of what drought is doing to the Great Plains. I had to walk across a couple of hundred yards of former lake bottom to reach today’s shore.

As I passed through Browning and turned toward East Glacier, I saw more bad news. Braden and I had driven this route at least a dozen times and every time we saw prairie potholes full of water. On this day, every one of those potholes stood bone dry until I’d almost reached East Glacier. This has dire portents for the future of our wild birds. Sure, rainfall goes up and down year to year, but the trend for the West is to get drier and drier. What happens when migrating birds head south and find no water at all?

This lone Snow Goose at Lake Frances brought me to within three birds of breaking my all-time one-year species count record—but it was small consolation for the dire water conditions I saw everywhere.

Honestly, I don’t want to find out, but it adds an urgency to act—and makes current attacks on clean energy both unconscionable and downright reckless. Why are such attacks happening? Just follow the money to the oil and car companies that continue to make trillions in profits while our planet suffers. These corporations have invested heavily in the current administration and are grinning ear to ear as POTUS rails against solar energy and windmills while he tries to sell our fossil fuels to a world that doesn’t want them. I generally try to keep FatherSonBirding apolitical, but if we want the next generation to have half of the beauty and diversity you and I have enjoyed, we have some urgent decisions to make. None of us has to change the world all by ourselves, but we each have to do something, whether it’s donating to causes working for a better planet or taking the plunge on solar panels, an electric vehicle, or eco-friendly hot water heater. The next generation may not ever thank us “stupid people” for what we’re doing, but we’ll know that the world will be better off for our efforts.

Flight of the Godwit (Book Review)

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Bruce M. Beehler’s Flight of the Godwit: Tracking Epic Shorebird Migrations (Smithsonian Books, 2025)

Any birder who has aspired to learn about shorebirds will find a welcome companion in Bruce M. Beehler’s new book, Flight of the Godwit: Tracking Epic Shorebird Migrations. Shorebirds, after all, can be considered somewhat mythical, mysterious beings. Not only do many of them make remarkable annual migrations covering tens of thousands of kilometers, quite a few are notoriously difficult to identify. Certainly, Braden and I realized we had entered a more advanced stage of learning when we started to search out and try to identify shorebirds and, in fact, we both often still struggle with figuring out some of the more difficult shorebird species. Yet the more we encounter and learn about these birds, the more we love them—and that same kind of passion radiates from Beehler’s words as he sets out on his own journeys to observe and learn more about these birds.

In Montana, we are lucky to host three of the “Magnificent Seven” shorebirds as breeders—including Marbled Godwits, one of the focal birds of Beehler’s new book.

In Flight of the Godwit, Beehler recounts a series of recent adventures across the US and Canada to follow and observe shorebirds as they migrate north, stop over at resting and staging sites, settle on breeding grounds, and then head south again for their long non-breeding seasons. Although Beehler discusses all of our North American shorebirds at some point, he clearly targets what he calls the Magnificent Seven: Hudsonian Godwit, Marbled Godwit, Bar-tailed Godwit, Long-billed Curlew, Whimbrel, Bristle-thighed Curlew, and Upland Sandpiper. As he shares his encounters, he sprinkles in liberal amounts of natural history and personal experiences about these birds to make the book much more than a birder’s travelogue.

This Marbled Godwit checked us out as we were scoping shorebirds in Westby last summer.

That said, the travelogue aspects of the book are a big part of what fascinated me about this tale. Even after eleven years of birding, my shorebird experiences have been much more limited than I would like. Although my home in Montana is fortunate to host a number of breeding shorebirds—including three of the Magnificent Seven—for most shorebirds, we get only brief glimpses of them as they pass through in spring and fall. Partly because of this, Braden and I have especially sought out shorebirds on our out-of-state travels to Texas, New England, and the West Coast. Sigh. It is never enough.

It always surprises new birders that some of our largest shorebirds actually breed in grasslands—including Long-billed Curlews.

As I followed Beehler up through the Midwest during spring migration and around Alaska during breeding season, his experiences filled in giant gaps in my own experience with these remarkable birds. I got a better sense of where the birds stop to refuel and rest, and my vague impressions of their nesting territories and habits were sharpened by Beehler’s actual observations and descriptions. Many times, I found myself nodding my head thinking, Yeah, I know what he’s talking about or Oh, so that’s what they’re doing. All of this felt especially satisfying since there’s a good chance I will never experience many of Beehler’s destinations for myself.

As much time as I try to spend with shorebirds, it is never enough. Flight of the Godwit helped fill in many of the experiences I probably will never have for myself.

Those who will appreciate Flight of the Godwit the most probably are birders who have already spent time observing shorebirds and struggling over their identifications. Those with limited shorebird experience may find themselves getting a bit lost as Beehler throws out bird names that may seem a bit abstract without solid brain images to connect them to. Still, there’s a good chance that even beginning “shorbers” will find that Beehler’s tales of adventure excite them to plunge more deeply into this remarkable set of birds. As for intermediate and advanced birders—especially those who may never get to Alaska or follow spring migration through the Midwest—I highly recommend this intriguing book that is not only a valuable educational document, but a labor of love with which many of us can relate.

You can order Flight of the Godwit from almost any outlet that sells books—but why not visit your local independent bookstore and order it there? Another easy way to do this is through the online website Bookshop.org.