Category Archives: Migration

Meditating with Loons: Spontaneous Birding Spectacular, Part II

Braden and I write FatherSonBirding in the hopes of sharing the wonders of birds and birding, and the urgency to protect them. We do not accept advertising or donations, but if you’d like to support our work, please consider buying *NEW* copies of some of Sneed’s books—First-Time Japan: A Step-by-Step Guide for the Independent Traveler, for instance, or the best kids’ woodpecker book ever, Woodpeckers: Drilling Holes & Bagging Bugs. Here, we are pleased to continue last week’s “spontaneous” narrative. For Part I, see our last post. Enjoy!

After giving my keynote talk to the Montana Library Association (and yes, it went well, thank you!), I changed out of my good clothes, checked out of my room and hit the road—but not too far. It was early afternoon by now, but before heading home I thought I’d better take advantage of the opportunity to visit Warm Springs Wildlife Management Area, one of Montana’s top birding destinations. It being migration season, the possibilities were almost endless of what I might find, but I kept my expectations low. Why? Primarily because much of Warm Springs is not easily accessible. The refuge consists mainly of several very large reservoirs designed to help clean toxic chemicals from the waters pouring out of the world famous Berkeley Pit copper mine in Butte. The road, however, only gets close to these bodies of water in certain places, so it’s easy to miss rarities that might show up. Nonetheless, I took the “back entrance” into the refuge and soon found myself at the bottom of the large, southernmost reservoir. The scene before me immediately put me in a happy place.

**This photo doesn’t capture the size and scope of the Warm Springs ponds—or how amazing they look filled with waterfowl!**

Stretching across the water were hundreds, no, thousands of ducks and other water birds, and I quickly set up my scope for a proper look. I usually try to estimate bird numbers wherever I am, but as I searched across the reservoir with the scope, I quickly abandoned that effort. I recorded 5000 coots, but that could easily be low. I also saw hundreds of Northern Shovelers and Ruddy Ducks, and noted plenty of Buffleheads, Ring-necked Ducks, Lesser Scaups, Gadwalls, American Wigeons, and more. A duck party!

**Just a few of the birds stretching out before me at Warm Springs. Pop quiz: can you identify three species?**

When scoping such a vast array of birds, it’s a natural instinct to look for the unusual or rare species, and after a few minutes, I landed on a pair of Red-necked Grebes—my first of the year. My biggest find, however, was the year’s first Yellow-rumped Warbler (Audubon’s) in the trees next to me! After making an inadequate attempt to eBird what I saw before me, I jumped back in the minivan and continued up the road. I passed a resident pair of Bald Eagles, and then pulled over at a small fishing access next to a long dike that separated this reservoir from the next. I grabbed my binoculars and ventured out onto the dike, and right away saw another Red-necked Grebe. Then, I recognized a bird that made me rush back to the minivan for my camera. I hurried back out onto the dike and trained my lens on it—a Common Loon!

During breeding season, Red-necked Grebes have a circumpolar distribution, but in the US they breed only in a few areas along our northern border. Fortunately, Montana is one of those places—though this guy/gal may well have been heading to Canada or Alaska.

Now, loons are not exactly rare in Montana, but they aren’t gimmes, either (for instance, see post “Rare Bird Hat Trick”). Last year, I saw only one—a quick fly-over at Glacier National Park. If you don’t visit one of the lakes where they breed in summer, you have to catch them during migration. Braden and I have seen a number of COLOs during fall migration, but this was the first I could remember in spring. But wait. As I was trying to get a decent photo of this loon, another one popped up nearby. “No way!” I muttered out loud. But wait, then I spotted a third, and eventually, a fourth! (I think I saw a fifth, but these ‘torpedoes’ can travel so far under water that I can’t be sure.)

**This pair of Common Loons defines the word serenity.**

Needless to say, I felt “loonstatic.” My only problem? Every bird was backlit, making a good photo impossible. To try to rectify this, I walked around to the parking area where I could get “up-light” of the birds, hoping they wouldn’t depart before I reached a good spot. They didn’t. I took enough photos that I finally got a really nice one (see below). My other problem, though, is that . . . I needed to relax.

**After capturing my best COLO shot ever, it was time to Zen out with some quiet loon time.**

More and more, recently, Braden and I have discussed the obsession to rack up species and get good photos without pausing to really appreciate them. Both of us, in fact, have been making an effort just to be still in the moment, and with four stunningly gorgeous loons diving for food in front of me, this seemed like a perfect time. I sat down on a rock and set my camera and binoculars on the ground next to me. I watched the loons for a few moments and then just closed my eyes. I thanked the universe for this special moment and tried to breathe deeply, focusing on the now for a few minutes.

Alas, I did not attain “loon-lightenment,” but when I opened my eyes, the loons were still floating, preening, and diving in front of me. Several times, I watched them surface with crayfish in their bills. I’m not sure if the loons did anything special to them, such as knocking loose their exoskeletons, but down the hatch they went. It was beautiful.

**A little “crawfish loon-touffée” for lunch!**

My birding had not finished, either. After Warm Springs, I tooled up the road a few miles to another spot that many birders don’t take time to check out—Racetrack Pond. Often, there’s not much to see at Racetrack, but I had occasionally stumbled into some treats. Again, it was migration season, so you just never knew. As I pulled off the interstate and turned right, I immediately saw a couple of hundred gulls out on small islands in the pond. “Hm,” I thought. “Maybe I can pick up some California Gulls there.” As I drove closer, however, I realized that they weren’t gulls. They were Snow Geese!

I pulled over and again set up the spotting scope—and not just to see the Snow Geese. I had an ulterior motive. Almost exactly a year earlier, at Browns Lake, I had stumbled into some migrating Ross’s Geese mixed in with a large Snow Geese flock. “Maybe there are some Ross’s hiding in this one,” I thought with an evil grin. I diligently scanned the flock for several minutes, mainly looking for any geese with stubby pink bills. Ross’s, though, also are a bit smaller than SNGO and tend to have a cleaner, whiter appearance. I thought I was going to strike out when I glimpsed two geese that fit the, ahem, bill. I watched them for at least ten minutes before discarding any doubts. Yay! This was only my third time ever seeing Ross’s Geese, and to get them two years in a row felt like an accomplishment. By the way, ROGOs are also a wonderful conservation success story. Their numbers had dropped to just a few thousand by the 1950s. Today, it is estimated that there are more than two million! Let’s hear it for conservation!

**Can you pick out the two Ross’s Geese in this photo? Once you know what you’re looking for, they stand out like, well, um, Ross’s Geese.** **The prominent, clean white goose just right of center is one of them. The other is swimming toward it from about 10 o’clock.**

My discoveries weren’t over. At the north end of the pond, I again pulled out the scope to discover a Greater Yellowlegs, a Killdeer, and two real surprises—an American Avocet and five, count ‘em, FIVE Marbled Godwits. “Perhaps they’re heading to the same place as yesterday’s Willets,” I wondered (see our last post). I later learned that large flocks of avocets had been rampaging through the state, so this one was right on schedule.

**With the help of my spotting scope, I was able to pick out the American Avocet (far left) and Marbled Godwits (far right) along the far shore of Racetrack Pond.**

With another wonderful day of birding under my belt, it was time to head home, but really, these days just primed my birding pump. Many adventures lie ahead—especially when Braden returns home from Costa Rica in a couple of weeks. Be prepared for plenty of posts this summer!

Owls, Curlews, Mergansers, and Willets: Spontaneous Birding Spectacular, Part I

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Today, Braden and I would like to especially welcome our increasing number of international readers. Our posts are now regularly viewed by birders from more than a dozen different countries, and new countries seem to pop up every week. Thank you for your interest and we invite you to comment and share your own birding interests and experiences! Oh, and check out the quiz in the last photo caption!

I hadn’t intended my visit to central Montana last week to be a birding trip. Rather, I had been invited to Butte to speak at the annual conference of the Montana Library Association, and so had planned a simple, quick overnight. A few days before the conference, however, things got more complicated. Braden has heroically gone without a car during his first three years in college, but as he looked forward to his senior year, we all agreed it was time for his own wheels, and I had been doing a little “car scouting” while he finishes up his semester abroad in Costa Rica. Wouldn’t you know it, I found what looked like the perfect used vehicle in Billings. “Hm,” I thought, “if I got up early, I could drive to Billings on Thursday, look at the car, and make it back to Bozeman (most of the way to Butte) ahead of the conference.”

Long story short: I bought the car, and Friday morning, found myself with an entire morning to bird between Bozeman and Butte.

Brown Pelicans are my favorite birds, but American White Pelicans definitely make the top 100. Unlike their brown cousins, AWPEs prefer inland freshwater habitats for breeding. I’m guessing these might be heading to Bowdoin NWR near Malta, but they could be on their way farther north.

Three Forks ponds can be very hit and miss. I had actually stopped there on my way to Billings, but hadn’t found anything too notable except some American White Pelicans. This morning, though, I decided to try them again before heading up Bench Road. Was I in for a surprise! The first bird I spotted in Three Forks ponds was a bird I had never before discovered on my own: a Red-breasted Merganser! Not only that, I found seven more in the next pond over. These northern breeders pass through Montana only during migration—and not in large numbers—so I felt particularly fortunate to see them. The ponds, though, held other surprises.

**Red-breasted Mergansers can be distinguished from Common Mergansers by their spiky “punk” hair-do, gray sides (here, under water), and of course, that reddish band on their breasts.**

Beyond a much larger group of pelicans, I saw a good assortment of ducks and then spotted birds with bold black-and-white wings fly to an island in the second pond. Shorebirds, I thought excitedly, running back to the minivan for my spotting scope. Other than Killdeer and Spotted Sandpipers, I had never before seen shorebirds at Three Forks, and my pulse picked up as I focused in on a group of eight gray birds at the edge of the island. I quickly ran through all the possibilities in my head, examining their size, color, and bills. My conclusion: Willets! They were obviously migrating, and this was the first time I’d ever seen them moving through this part of Montana. Apparently, I was not alone as the birds’ timing landed them on the Montana Rare Bird alert for the day!

**This group of eight migrating Willets surprised me by making the Montana Rare Bird Alert! They also tested my powers of ID elimination.**

From the ponds, I headed up Bench Road. This was the first place Braden and I ever saw Burrowing Owls, and I hoped to see them again today—but didn’t hold out a lot of hope as I’d missed them my last couple of times here. The road, though, holds a wealth of other birds. In the lower stretch, I pulled over at the marsh to enjoy my first Yellow-headed Blackbirds, Marsh Wrens, and Cinnamon Teals of the year. It was the road’s upper stretch that most excited me, however.

**Cinnamon Teal. Most stunning duck ever? Maybe not, but definitely part of the conversation!**

As I climbed up over the first “bench,” I smiled at the many Horned Larks and Western Meadowlarks singing along the road. After a couple of miles, though, I thought I saw a larger bird landing along a side road. Could it be a Burrowing Owl? I turned the minivan down this sketchy, rutted path and after a couple of hundred meters saw a large shape in a field. It wasn’t a Burrowing Owl, but almost as exciting—my first Long-billed Curlew of the year! This greatly interested me because Braden and I had never birded this road so early in spring and I didn’t realize LBCUs would already be here. Turning the van around, though, I spotted four more calling in flight, obviously ready to get busy breeding!

**There is something magical about seeing a large, majestic shorebird setting up a breeding territory in our nation’s grassy heartland!**

I also encountered the first of three women who were birding as a team in their own cars. She said she had spotted a couple of Burrowing Owls earlier and that one of her friends was up on Baseline Road (which tees off of Bench Road) at a BUOW burrow. I decided to head there, but before I reached it, saw a medium-sized brown shape flying low to the ground across a field. I hit the brakes and raised my binoculars. “Yes!” A Burrowing Owl! Not only that, a second one hunched down next to it. I snapped a poor photo from my car, but didn’t want to disturb them by getting out. BUOWs, though, are incredibly adorable animals and these two had obviously excavated a burrow here at the edge of a field. I hoped the farmer would notice them and not unknowingly evict them!

**Come plowing time, I am hoping the owner of this field spots the burrow of this delightful Burrowing Owl couple.**

I continued up the road and sure enough found the other burrow that was staked out by the friend of the first woman I had met. The owls didn’t show right away, but soon popped up for a distant view. These appeared to be in much safer habitat than the field of the first pair. After fifteen minutes, I started the minivan back up, wishing the owls luck and hoping Bench Road would be a home for them for years to come. On my way back down the road, I stopped at the marshy area for one last treat—a great, brief glimpse at a Virginia Rail!

**Montana birding at its finest, cruising (almost) deserted prairie roads for amazing grassland birds.**

That evening in Butte, after my first talk at the conference, I paid my first visit to Butte’s Lexington Street ponds and wetlands, which were undergoing a major birder-friendly construction project. I set up my scope outside of a chain-link construction fence and saw a great variety of ducks, along with a Western Grebe—a bird that had never before been reported there! As I was packing up, I heard a familiar rattling call and turned to see two gorgeous Sandhill Cranes touching down a couple of hundred meters away. As wonderful as this all was, however, my spontaneous birding weekend had only just begun. Stay tuned for Part 2.

**A teaser for our next post: Can you tell which white geese are of special interest and why? If so, send us your answers!**

College Search Birding in California

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If you’ve been following FatherSonBirding for any length of time, you know two things about us: we love to travel and we love to bird. Sometimes we plan dedicated birding trips, but whenever possible, we like to go easy on our carbon footprints and fold birding into travel that we were going to do anyway. In the past year, for instance, I’ve been able to bird in Japan and Spain while taking family vacation trips I’d been planning for years. Often, I get to bird while taking business trips to, say, Texas or Missouri. Right now, Braden is birding his butt off while doing a semester of study abroad in Costa Rica. As the parent of two young people, another potential “double-dipping” birding opportunity arose when my children began thinking about college. After all, it’s a good idea to visit a college you might want to attend, right? Unfortunately, covid kai-boshed that possibility with Braden—though we did get to bird in New England when I took him back east to start his college career at the University of Maine. With my second child, Tessa, I’ve been more fortunate. Last week she and I took a lightning trip out to California to visit a couple of potential schools she is considering. Even better, we went to places I’d never gotten to bird.

Cal State Chico put on a show for us in its best spring colors. Not surprisingly, I saw some great birds there, too, including Red-shouldered Hawks, California Scrub-Jays, and Acorn Woodpeckers—right on campus!

After rising at 3:30 a.m., Tessa and I landed in Sacramento at the outrageously convenient hour of 9:00 a.m. It was a glorious, sunny California morning and we made a beeline to U.C. Davis, where I’d spent my own freshman year before transferring to U.C. Berkeley to finish out my college years. Davis had changed a lot, but I still managed to find my way around—though I did drive our rental car down a dedicated bike path, much to the consternation of dozens of student bicyclists trying to get to class! After a quick tour around campus, we found a parking spot downtown and decided to have lunch at Crepeville and while waiting in line, I finally had a chance to start looking around for birds. One of the huge regrets of my life is that I’d left California before I’d become a birder because, with the possible exceptions of Texas and Alaska, there is no better state in the union to bird. To wit, within yards of Crepeville, I spotted Yellow-rumped Warblers, a Black Phoebe, and a Western Bluebird—right in downtown Davis! But my college search birding had just begun!

**Just the name phoebe can’t help but melt a birder’s heart, but these Black Phoebes truly are handsome birds.**

After a quick tour of Davis we headed north to our primary college destination, Cal State Chico, which boasts a musical theatre program of particular interest to Tessa. We arrived in Chico pretty pooped from our already extensive exertions and checked into our hotel for a rest. The prospect of some deeper California birding, however, did not let me tarry long, and after twenty minutes I left Tessa to recharge while I headed to the dubiously named Hooker Oak Park.

Any trip to California is a chance to see some of California’s specialty birds—including Yellow-billed Magpies, which only live in selected areas of central California. On Braden’s instruction, one morning I got up early to drive to Durham High School, and sure enough, found me a pair!

To be honest, the park looked a little over-developed and ragged, and I wondered whether I should move to some healthier-looking oak groves just down the road. Then I reminded myself that this was California and birds were likely to be anywhere. Almost immediately, this was confirmed when I sighted one of the targets of my trip, an Oak Titmouse singing in a sycamore tree.

**What can I say? Oak Titmice are just plain adorable.**

I set out to explore further and birds popped out from left and right—including most of the birds I had hoped to see. I got super excited to see an Acorn Woodpecker—only to discover that they were everywhere in this park. Not long after, I encountered a Nuttall’s Woodpecker, the other woodpecker at the top of my list.

You can’t beat an Acorn Woodpecker on one of its acorn storage trees! With their black masks, these cooperative birds look like banditos, and the way they aggressively mob other species, they apparently can act that way, too.

Exploring further, I encountered California and Spotted Towhees, Golden and White-crowned Sparrows, and White-breasted Nuthatches.

With my lousy hearing and dearth of knowledge about California bird calls, Merlin’s Sound ID feature proved especially useful and helped me find several species, including California Quail. My biggest surprise of the outing were two Hermit Thrushes, which hadn’t been on my radar at all but do winter in the Central Valley.

One disappointment was that I didn’t hear or see any Red-shouldered Hawks, a particularly abundant species in California. As I was about to climb back into my rental car, however, I heard a familiar “Kee-a, kee-a, kee-a, kee-a!” and spotted a large reddish bird flying straight toward me. As it passed overhead and landed on a branch, I saw that it held a tasty mammalian morsel in its talons. Almost immediately, another Red-shouldered Hawk plowed in and displaced the first one, stealing its meal. I grinned. Not only did I get to see a RSHA, I got to see hawk behavior, too!

**This Red-shouldered Hawk drove another RSHA off its prey, which it now holds firmly in its grasp.**

The next two days, Tessa and I visited with some of my most cherished friends, who had happened to move to Chico decades before, and, oh yeah, we took a great tour of the Chico campus. The campus, I gotta say, mightily impressed both Tessa and me. Chico is part of the WUE college exchange program, meaning that if any of you Montana parents are also contemplating schools, you can get big discounts on out-of-state tuition. But back to the birds, I continued to see awesome birds everywhere we went. I did want to get in a visit to another bona fide natural area, though, so the day of our campus tours, I woke early and drove out to Bidwell-Sacramento River State Park, about fifteen minutes out of town.

**In the parking lot of Bidwell-Sacramento River State Park, I got my best looks ever at another California specialty, Nuttall’s Woodpecker.**

I arrived before dawn—actually a bit early for the birds—but a group of 55 Wild Turkeys greeted me, so I went ahead and set off on dew-soaked trails paralleling the river. I had set a goal of 50 bird species for this California trip and began the day at about 45—but quickly blew past that. Almost immediately, I saw Wood Ducks hanging out in the trees and spotted two pairs of kingfishers bickering over the river. As the day warmed, more species kept appearing: a Great Egret and Great Blue Herons, tons of flickers and Tree Swallows, Ruby-crowned Kinglets and White-breasted Nuthatches, a pair of Turkey Vultures trying to get their engines started.

**It’s easy to forget that Wood Ducks nest in trees—something I was quickly reminded of at Bidwell-Sacramento River State Park!**

After an hour, I began making my way back to the parking lot and spotted a group of Dark-eyed Juncos and White-crowned Sparrows ahead. Then, I saw something that really got me going: a small, brownish bird with short, vertical lines at the top of its breast and a yellowish wash. Lincoln’s Sparrow! And not one, but two of them! I managed only lousy photos, but was thrilled to see one of Braden’s and my favorite Montana birds hanging out in its winter habitat—and just before migration. Is it possible I will see these exact same birds in Montana in a few short weeks???

**Yay! Lincoln’s Sparrow—in its winter habitat. This, btw, was one of only two species I added to my California life list, which now stands at 226 species.** **The other was Common Merganser.**

That evening, after our tour and our drive back to Sacramento, I rallied myself for one more birding mission. After checking into our hotel in Woodland, I drove about five miles to where I-5 crosses the Sacramento River. I got off on some small side roads and began scouring fields and places with standing water. I found a few Northern Shovelers and a trio of Black-necked Stilts, but not what I was looking for. Then, I parked and began walking on a path that led back toward the interstate. Almost immediately, I saw a group of about 200 geese in a verdant field. I raised my binoculars and grinned. Yes! Greater White-fronted Geese! The last species I had really hoped to see on the trip. I stood and watched them for about ten minutes, as other geese flew over, circled around, and joined the throng. It was a perfect ending for what turned out to be a perfect college—and birding—trip.

California Trip Report: https://ebird.org/tripreport/214105

**My last target bird of the trip, Greater White-fronted Geese, captured just as the sun was setting on Sacramento.**

“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.)**

Sifting Through Maine’s Fall Migrants

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Congratulations to Braden for having his first full-length article published, in the July/August 2023 issue of Bird Watcher’s Digest! The editor actually plucked the piece from our blog post “Montana Shorebird Surprise”! If you don’t already subscribe to BWD, I strongly encourage you to do so. It is packed with fun and interesting articles about all aspects of birds and birding—and honestly, magazines like this need our help to keep promoting bird conservation and foster our birding community. Learn more by clicking here. Meanwhile, enjoy Braden’s new fall migration report from Maine.

October, in Maine, is usually a major cutoff point for neotropical migrants. Warblers, specifically, seem to disappear from the state right around October 1st, having already moved through in large numbers in late August and September. Last year, I barely detected any warblers after the October curtain dropped, with my only species being Yellow-rumped and Palm Warblers (which are later migrants and do stick around until November) and two Tennessee Warblers that I worked my butt off to find on the first of the month.

**Oct. 1 is usually about the cutoff for seeing fall warbler migrants in Maine, leaving residents such as Downy Woodpeckers and . . .**

Because of this knowledge, I had no expectations when I hit the University of Maine Bike Path last weekend, October 7th. I had already birded the path several times this fall, once by myself (when I scored great looks at two Ovenbirds and a Canada Warbler, both of which were long gone by now) and once with the University of Maine Birding Club, which I had restarted in mid-September. This was the same path, though, that offered up American Woodcocks and American Bitterns in spring; the same place that hundreds of salamanders and frogs would migrate across on rainy nights in April. Unfortunately, none of those animals were active now, so again, I had no expectations and was pleasantly surprised to run into a flock of Yellow-rumped Warblers and other birds right off the bat.

**Ruby-crowned Kinglets are one of the “later” songbird migrants—in Maine as well as in Montana. I saw 17 of them on this outing!**

In fall, my birding strategy is to find the mixed flocks and sift through them until I’m reasonably sure I’ve identified all of the species. I did just this with the flock, finding a Palm Warbler, several Ruby-crowned Kinglets, and a Blackpoll Warbler in its drab, green winter plumage, adorned with orange feet. In terms of warblers, Blackpoll Warblers are one of the later migrants in Maine, and travel the farthest of any of the group, heading east from their boreal breeding grounds before flying south straight across the Atlantic Ocean to South America. I’d seen several in the Adirondacks this summer, in their spiffy black and white plumage, and it was nice getting to wave goodbye to them for the winter.

**Swamp Sparrows are a real find in Montana, but on my birding walk today, I counted at least 33 of them—a low estimate!**

After pishing in a few more mixed flocks, I reached one of the the bike path’s main attractions—a large, weedy field, hosting tall goldenrod and other plants that reminded me of the Fort Missoula gravel quarry back home. This, like the gravel quarry, was Sparrow Central. I waded out into the grass, flushing flocks of Song and Swamp Sparrows into the bushes, from where they watched me carefully as I checked each and every one of them. Ruby-crowned Kinglets chattered from the aspens and birches lining the perimeter of the field, and I pished at them with every chance I got, searching for anything rare. Soon, amongst a group of White-throated and Savannah Sparrows, I spotted a smaller, more crisply-patterned sparrow hop up onto a bramble: the Lincoln’s I had been hoping for! My dad and I had gotten our lifer Lincoln’s Sparrows in fall, and while I had seen and heard many this summer between the Adirondacks and the joint Western Field Ornithologists and Colorado Field Ornithologists conference I attended in alpine Colorado, I still sought out these stunning birds every time the colors on the trees began to change.

**My dad went out four times last week before he found a White-throated Sparrow migrating through Missoula. I counted 23 of them on my single outing**!

The Lincoln’s Sparrow abruptly disappeared as a small, yellow bird took its place: a Nashville Warbler, about a week after the last Nashville Warblers should have left for Central America! A few minutes later, in another horde of kinglets, I briefly spotted a Tennessee Warbler. Yay! The warblers were still here!

It wasn’t until I circled back over to the far end of the grassy field, however, that I found my real prize. As I sorted through yet another flock of kinglets and sparrows, I spotted it: a greenish, grayish warbler. Now, in Maine, in fall, this could describe just about every species of warbler since most have adopted relatively drab nonbreeding plumage. Nonetheless, I started checking off options in my head, narrowing it down.

The body was mostly green, with a green throat. That eliminated Palm, Pine, Nashville, Yellow-rumped, and any of the more colorful fall warblers. The head, meanwhile, contrasted with the green—it was slate gray, and the bird had broken eye-arcs. Those two features alone, plus a total lack of yellow or white, eliminated Blackpoll, Bay-breasted and Chestnut-sided. That left two species. Tennessee Warblers are easily identified in fall by their white vents (butt feathers)—but this bird’s vent was green. The bird I was looking at was one my dad has surely seen many times this fall and paid little attention to—an Orange-crowned Warbler!

**While migrating fall Orange-crowned Warblers are fairly common in Montana, in Maine they qualify as a genuine rarity!**

Orange-crowned Warblers are fairly common in most of the United States. They breed throughout the Rockies and are commonly seen in migration and winter across the country. They avoid Maine in migration, however, and don’t breed in the state, so this warbler is quite a rarity here! What’s more, early October is actually one of the best times to find them here, which is not the case for any other common Maine warbler. I celebrated for a moment before whipping out my camera to snap some photos of the bird, which I assumed I would need to prove that I’d actually seen it.

After the Orange-crowned Warbler moved on, I continued to walk the rest of the bike path, finding more flocks of sparrows, thrushes, and the occasional warbler. I even heard a few pipits fly over as I headed to McDonald’s for a respite from UMaine’s dining hall food. I’d had my best fall day of birding so far this year. Hopefully, more great birding was to come!