Category Archives: Nick Ramsey

Birding in Oaxaca, Mexico (report by Braden Collard)

As our final post for February, we feature a glimpse of Braden’s amazing winter break trip to Oaxaca (pronounced “wah-HA-kah”), Mexico with our friend, and now birding guide, Nick Ramsey. If you like tropical birds, we’ve got more treats coming your way—but we won’t spill the bird seed just yet. Meanwhile, if you’d like to support FatherSonBirding, please consider buying some of Sneed’s books—or supporting a bird conservation group of your choice (see our post “Saving Birds. It’s Time.”).

No words can capture the feelings of shock and disbelief that Nick Ramsey, Garrett Rhyne, Eugene Huryn and I felt when an adult male Red Warbler materialized in a bush in front of us. We’d originally pulled over to admire the view of Oaxaca City from several thousand feet up and, no surprise, had begun to notice birds the instant we got out of our rental car. Nick, who had been birding and traveling around northern Central America and Mexico for the last few weeks, pointed out the distinct high-pitched call of a Mexican Violetear, hidden somewhere in the foliage below us. Downslope, a large mixed flock of warblers was passing through, and we started to pick out species as they foraged on the ends of conifer branches—Hermit Warblers, Townsend’s Warblers, Olive Warblers, a Mexican Chickadee—species that birders could find in the western United States. Then the Red Warbler appeared, and we all lost our minds as we scrambled to take pictures of it against its light green backdrop.

One look at a Red Warbler and you know why we lost our minds seeing it!

Camino la Cumbre, the road we’d turned onto ten minutes earlier, is one of Oaxaca’s more famous birding locations, and for good reason. As we continued driving up the road, which featured tall pine trees growing alongside ten-foot tall century plants, we stopped any time we heard or saw birds, which was often. Collared Towhees, White-eared Hummingbirds, Brown-backed Solitaires and more species we had on our target lists made appearances alongside the road, in habitat not all that different from what you might see in the middle elevations of California’s Sierra Nevada. Besides the Red Warblers, though, our biggest targets were a pair of species known for traveling together—one of the world’s largest wrens and one of the world’s smallest jays. The Gray-barred Wrens didn’t take long to find, and we bumped into several flocks of them, not skulking close to the ground like many US wrens do, but fifteen feet up in oak trees, picking through epiphytes in search of insects.

One of our biggest first-day targets, Gray-barred Wrens, proved easy to find. One of the world’s largest wrens, they are surprisingly visible at mid-tree level.

As we wound higher and higher up the road, the birds improved—as did the view of Oaxaca City below us. We’d flown in the previous day, and spent that evening and the following morning stalking through the scrubby, lowland habitat in search of other specialty birds, endemic only to dry valleys in south-central Mexico: Dwarf Vireo, Ocellated Thrasher, Bridled Sparrow. We’d been planning the six-day trip, which fell perfectly into my winter break, for several months, but only at the Dallas Fort-Worth Airport had I met Garrett and Eugene for the first time. Nick knew them from his time at LSU, and had brought us all together to see a small portion of the birds Mexico had to offer. And boy, did Mexico have a lot of birds to offer.

Bridled Sparrows remind one of the Five-striped and Black-throated Sparrows many US birders eagerly chase through Arizona.

The Mexican state of Oaxaca is positioned so that it includes both the dry tropical forest of the Pacific and the rainforests of the Caribbean. More importantly, it is home to a variety of mountain ranges and dry valleys, each far enough apart so that different bird species can be found in each area. This diverse array of habitats means that Oaxaca is one of the most diverse areas in Mexico, and we planned to see the full extent of this diversity on our intense six-day itinerary.

We at FatherSonBirding always feel gratified that so many birds are named after us, including this Collard, I mean, Collared Towhee.

Camino la Cumbre was a major target area, and after an hour or so, we rounded a particularly foggy bend in the road, got out of the car, and laid eyes on our other major target: Dwarf Jays. Dwarf Jays are only known from the pine-oak woodland in the mountains north of Oaxaca, and thus the species was quite high on our target list. These tiny blue corvids were in the company of several Gray-barred Wrens as well as a Chestnut-sided Shrike-Vireo, a vireo that has evolved incredibly similar plumage to a Chestnut-sided Warbler, and we watched the mixed flock forage for a while, in awe of these birds we’d only seen in books before. We snagged a few more pine-oak species, including a beautiful male Bumblebee Hummingbird and a pair of particularly skulky Golden-browed Warblers, then continued north to our next birding location. In the following days, we would be driving down and then up the side of another mountain range into the cloud forest, then down into the rainforests of the Caribbean slope.

I unfortunately did not get a photo of a Dwarf Jay, so this Unicolor Jay will have to do!

Almost as exciting as the number of life birds all four of us were getting were the huge quantities of North American birds we saw at every stop! When I’d been in Costa Rica (see Braden’s post on El Copal and his other Costa Rica posts), the common neotropical migrants were eastern birds like Chestnut-sided Warbler and Wood Thrush, species that I’d gotten to know the summer before in Pennsylvania. But in southern and western Oaxaca? Half the birds were Montana species! In several locations we came across triple-digit numbers of Violet-green Swallows, as well as roving mixed flocks of orioles and Western Tanagers.  Our first morning of birding yielded a group of more than a hundred Cassin’s Kingbirds, and we found MacGillivray’s, Wilson’s, and Orange-crowned Warblers foraging low in bushes while Townsend’s and Hermit Warblers hunted higher up, near the tops of pine trees.

A Brown-backed Solitaire.

These species reminded us that Mexico is, after all, a part of North America, even though American birders and citizens seem to forget that frequently. The birds and habitats in parts of Oaxaca mirror what you might encounter on a warm February day in southeastern Arizona. Plus, ABA birders spend hundreds and thousands of dollars driving and flying across the country to see rarities like Slate-throated Redstart or southern Texas specialties like Altamira Oriole . . . and yet, for a similar amount of money, they can fly just a little bit farther to where these birds are not only common but joined by hundreds of other spectacular tropical species. If there’s one thing I was sure of, even on Day One of our Oaxaca trip, it’s that I would be coming back to Mexico.

Our Oaxacan Birding Crew (left to right: Eugene, Garrett, Nick, and Braden) on Camino la Cumbre.

This post is written, photographed, and edited by human beings!

In Montana, Some Real October Surprises

For birders, October is an odd month—especially in Montana. Our resident birds have left. Winter residents are just arriving. Most migrating birds have passed through the state—but not quite all. The month poses a special dilemma for those trying to set any kind of Big Year milestone, because time for new birds is running out. This year, for instance, I have found myself tantalizingly close to making 2024 my second best Montana birding year ever. 2020 was Braden’s and my best year, when we put a ton of effort into it, and I recorded 266 species on my list (see our post “2020 Wraps, 2021 Underway”). Last year, thanks in part to an Eastern Montana trip with my pal Scott, I notched my second best year with 253 species. As October wound down this year, however, I found myself with 247 species—seemingly within striking distance of breaking that 253 mark. Or was it?

The Fort Missoula gravel quarry delivered our first American Tree Sparrows of the season—a bird that, unbeknownst to me, I had failed to see earlier in the year! This, dear readers, is also where Braden and I got our lifer ATSPs years ago.

A mere seven species might seem like an easy task with three months to go in the year, but that small number is deceiving. As mentioned above, very few new birds arrive this time of year. As for winter arrivals, most birders (myself included) already saw those in January and February. Bottom Line: By October, birders hoping to set a mark need to track down some rarities.

Braden and I have chased plenty of rarities in the past, but I am more reluctant to do so these days. The main reason? Unless I really, really want to see a particular bird, I can’t justify burning up gasoline just to notch another species on my list—especially to break a rather arbitrary record. After all, climate change—powered in large part by burning fossil fuels—is one of the major threats to birds, not to mention to all other species, and my desire to make 2024 my second best year doesn’t rate as a worthy enough goal to place the planet in even greater peril. With Braden gone, chasing rarities also isn’t as much fun.

Still, last week, with the end of the month in sight, I felt like I could use a good birding session to take advantage of our last warm weather and improve my mental health, made particularly jittery by the craziness of the upcoming elections. And then, out of the blue, I got a text from Nick Ramsey: “Hey! Are you in Missoula? And any shot you want to go birding tomorrow?” I didn’t hesitate. “Yes and yes!” I shot back.

With only hours to spend in Missoula, Nick picked me up for a quick trip to the Fort Missoula gravel quarry and Lee Metcalf NWR, showed above.

Nick, it turns out, had a brief layover in Missoula between a summer field job in Alaska and guiding gigs in Louisiana. Regular readers of FatherSonBirding (or of my new book Birding for Boomers) will recognize Nick both as a member of our extended family, and as our most important mentor when Braden and I first started to bird. We’ve had countless birding adventures together including our first expedition to eastern Montana and Braden’s and Nick’s epic Florida birding trip in 2022. I was thrilled that Nick, who recently graduated from LSU, reached out to me—especially because he had only hours to spare before hitting the road for a 30-hour drive to Louisiana. I asked him what he’d like to do and he suggested visiting the Fort Missoula gravel quarry and Lee Metcalf National Wildlife Refuge. That sounded great to me, and just by coincidence, a Northern Parula had just been sighted at Lee Metcalf.

Decidedly eastern birds, Northern Parulas are almost unheard of in Western Montana. Although chances were low that it would still be there when Nick and I got there the following day, I couldn’t help thinking this could move me closer to tying my “second place” record of 253. For his part, Nick especially wanted to see a Swamp Sparrow, another uncommon bird for Montana. I figured we had almost no hope of finding one of those, but if anyone could, it was Nick.

Nick picked me up at eight the next morning, in the company of his adorable diminutive companion, a chihuahua mix named Dixie, who decided that my lap would be her domain for the rest of the day. Our first stop? The gravel quarry. Nick hoped for a Swamp Sparrow here and we both thought it might be a good chance to see scoters, Long-tailed Ducks, or other laggards passing through the area. Unfortunately, a guy flying a drone was most likely scaring off any interesting water birds. Still, we had a nice sparrow session, finding a ton ‘o Song Sparrows, along with White-crowned Sparrows, and the season’s first American Tree Sparrows—which, I didn’t realize I had failed to find earlier in the year! By the time we headed back to the car, the drone flier also had departed, giving us a look at a few Hooded Mergansers. “Hey, there’s also a Horned Grebe!” I told Nick. That was a nice surprise since I’d managed to miss them in Montana the entire year. Click. With the American Tree Sparrows and Horned Grebe, my Montana Year List had leaped from 247 to 249!

I had given up on Horned Grebes for my 2024 Montana list when this one showed itself at the Fort Missoula gravel quarry.

Continuing on to Lee Metcalf, Dixie keeping me warm, Nick and I caught up on the rest of our lives. This, I realized, was the first time Nick and I had ever birded together without Braden along, and though we both missed him, it was a great chance to share our adventures and discuss future birding dreams, plans, and possibilities. In no time, Nick was pulling into the Lee Metcalf visitor’s center parking lot. Several birders had arrived before us, but none seemed aware of the Northern Parula sighting the previous day. The bird had supposedly been seen in the elm trees next to the closest pond, but as we headed over there, what first caught our attention were two shorebirds pumping for food in the mud.

A pair of Long-billed Dowitchers presented our first surprise at Lee Metcalf. More surprises would follow!

“Are those Long-billed Dowitchers?” I asked Nick. “What are they doing here?” So late in the season, they surprised both of us and immediately made our trip down here worthwhile. While we were studying them, however, Nick’s sharp ears caught something else and he began walking over toward the south edge of the pond. I thought he had heard the Northern Parula, but when I caught up, I found him studying the cattails below us. “I thought I might have heard a Swamp Sparrow,” he explained. Then we saw movement. “There!”

Nick’s Montana lifer Swamp Sparrow was too quick for me to catch in full sunlight, but did pause briefly behind this fence.

Several other birders joined us and it took several minutes for us to get clean looks at the bird. “Furtive” is a good word to describe Swamp Sparrows as they like to stay hidden in reeds along the water’s edge, but finally, the bird gave us full, if brief, views. I was astounded. While only about fifty records exist for Montana, Nick explained that the birds definitely move through the state every year, and Birds of Montana lists several cases where the birds have overwintered. I’d only ever seen one in Montana—in the Shiloh recreation area in Billings—so for me, this was a big deal. Click. 250.

As we moved slowly, following the sparrow to a small brush pile, Nick almost casually said, “The parula’s right behind us.”

What?

It being fall, I expected that if we saw the Northern Parula, it would be a drab specimen. The gorgeous bird, however, delivered a real October surprise.

I spun around and, sure enough, spotted a spectacular yellow-and-bluish-gray warbler plucking insects from leaves in a deciduous bush not twenty feet from us. Nick called to other nearby birders, and they joined us for one of the most leisurely looks at a rare migrant ever. Much like the Black-throated Blue Warbler that appeared in Lolo last year, this bird seemed little bothered by people. We all hung back about thirty feet, trying to fill up our cameras’ memory cards while the bird fattened up on whatever it could find. Just to mix things up, it flew over to an elm tree for a while, before heading back to the bush. After a hike out to the more distant ponds (still no scoters), Nick and I hit the road back to Missoula, making only a quick nearby stop to get Nick a look at California Quail for the year. In a single outing, and at a most improbably time of year, my year list had advanced to 251 species, making me wonder if I could somehow nab three more species through December. Even better, I had enjoyed a wonderful day of birding and companionship with one of the best rare migrants possible, our friend Nick.

Two happy birders following an improbable day of October rarities.

Our Official 2023 FSB Recap: Bird Names, Bird Clubs, and Lifers

2023 proved to be another wildly surprising year for the FatherSonBirding team. Not only did Braden and I see birds we never dreamed we’d see, but birding opportunities and the enthusiasm of our loyal FSB followers exceeded every expectation. But first, some 2023 stats:

Blogs Posted: 32

FSB Views: 9,361 (easily eclipsing last year’s record of 7,185)

Most Viewed Post: Avian Reveal: Our Five Picks for New Bird Names (598 views)

In addition to the above stats, we surpassed 30,000 lifetime blog views and have now published 174 posts since we began FSB in 2018. Even though this is far short of what is required to annoy you with paid advertisements, it’s still remarkable to us. When we began FSB, Braden and I thought we might keep at it for a year or two at most. Now, almost six years later, FSB has actually generated a body of work that we are immensely proud of. It’s been a way for us to share our adventures, promote birding, and connect with other birders. It’s also been a fun vehicle for educating others about birds and bird conservation. So let’s get to 2023’s highlights for each of us.

This stunning Spruce Grouse featured greatly in Sneed’s 2023 birding highlights!

Sneed’s 2023 Birding Highlights

Japan: Without a doubt, my biggest highlight of the year was taking my daughter, Tessa, to Japan for three weeks. Together, we created a lifetime of memories in a country we loved even more than we thought we would. As you all discovered with my posts about Tokyo, Kyoto, Kanazawa, and other places, I got in plenty of birding, adding 28 species to my Life List and getting to know more than fifty species of common Japanese birds. (Note that Kanazawa is near the epicenter of this morning’s 7.5 earthquake. We are thinking of all of you over there, and hope everyone is safe!)

One of my favorite Japanese birds, a male Daurian Redstart.

Birding Eastern Montana: Thanks to assignments from Montana Outdoors magazine, I had the opportunity to drive out to Westby with my childhood buddy, Scott Callow. We not only hit hotspots such as Bowdoin NWR, Plentywood, Makoshika SP, and Bear Canyon, we had a wonderful visit with FWP biologist Heather Harris who took us on an up-close-and-personal visit to some of Montana’s healthiest short-grass prairie. There, we got my best looks ever at Sprague’s Pipits, Chestnut-collared Longspurs, and other prairie residents.

Heading to Westby with my friend Scott was not only a great way to see great Montana birds, but a rare chance to catch up with a lifelong friendship!

Adding Montana Lifers: While in Westby, Scott and I saw my first Piping Plover in Montana, but during the rest of the year—and with the help of other Montana birders—I also added three species to my all-time worldwide Life List: Sagebrush Sparrow (Bear Canyon), American Golden-plover (Mission Valley), and Spruce Grouse (Mission Mountains).

This Sagebrush Sparrow was probably my favorite new ABA Lifer of 2023–and proves that great things can come in small packages!

In addition to the above highlights, Braden and I got to bird together several times, including a breakneck trip to Glacier NP with our buddy, Nick Ramsey. I also had the pleasure of meeting a lot of other Montana birders at Wings Across the Big Sky and the meeting of Flathead Audubon. At the beginning of 2023, I had entertained visions of breaking my Montana Big Year record with my work trips to eastern Montana—but didn’t. I came close, however, racking up 253 species, including my last two: Short-eared Owl and Northern Shrike on Braden’s and my last big Montana outing. And now . . .

Despite Braden and Nick’s busy lives getting educated and building their birder resumés, we all managed to squeeze in a quick 3-day trip to Freezeout Lake and Glacier National Park last summer.

Braden’s 2023 Birding Highlights

Eastern Songbirds: A long-time goal of mine has been to learn the eastern songbirds, specifically the eastern wood-warblers, by ear. This summer, thanks to my job doing point counts in the woods of northeastern Pennsylvania, I succeeded at that goal, solidifying nearly two dozen warbler songs in my mental repertoire, including those of Magnolia, Canada, Mourning and Golden-winged Warblers. Beyond that, I got to spend all of May and June, and some of July, romping around the forests of the Appalachians, learning about the ecology of all of these species. I fell in love with Golden-winged Warblers, with their specialized habitat needs and endearing personalities, and came to know not only the species of birds in these forests, but also the trees the birds were using. Highlighted by a trip to Cape May and a trip to the Adirondacks, my summer in Pennsylvania may have taught me more about the natural world than any summer I’ve lived through yet!

Getting to know Eastern warblers—including Golden-winged Warblers—fulfilled a long-held ambition of mine.

Western Field Ornithologists Conference: In July, I said goodbye to my co-workers and the woods of Pennsylvania and flew across the country to Denver, Colorado, where I was picked up by one of the members of the board of Western Field Ornithologists (WFO). There started my week-long, high-energy stay in the alpine zone of Colorado, where I proceeded to not only see hordes of birds (including two lifers, Virginia’s Warbler and Brown-capped Rosy-finch) as well as meet a variety of people of all ages, who had converged at the WFO annual conference thanks to their passion for birds. During this conference, I got to hang out with a squadron of young birders from California and meet people like David Tonnessen, a native Coloradan guide, Nathan Pieplow, one of North America’s leading experts on bird sound, Ted Floyd, the editor of Birding magazine, Chris Wood, one of the founders of eBird, and Jesse Barry, one of the lead developers for the Merlin app. It was a whirlwind week, during which I bushwhacked through alpine tundra in search of White-tailed Ptarmigan and Dusky Grouse (only the latter of which we saw), scoped distant prairie potholes for shorebirds, and trekked through spruce-fir forest in the dark of night in an attempt for Boreal Owl. I’ll be sure to attend more of these conferences, whenever I am able to!

Starting the UMaine Birding Club: Last semester, several people told me that if the University of Maine had a Birding Club, they would join. This year, after a few MORE people told me that, I just decided to buckle down and start one. Our first meeting, which took place on September 14th, was a raging success, with more than thirty people filling the classroom I’d reserved to hear me give my elevator pitch for the club. After a ten-minute talk, we headed out across campus in search of fall migrants, which we found in the form of a Ruby-throated Hummingbird and several Cape May Warblers. The rest is history. I put on twelve meetings this year, and led twelve outings as well. I made sure that our meetings were diverse, with some days featuring guest lectures about bird jobs or indoor bird scavenger hunts and others pitting club members against each other in Bird Jeopardy. My personal favorite was a thirty-minute talk I gave on everything wrong with the state birds, and we finished out the year last Thursday with a movie night featuring The Big Year. Our outings, highlighted by one trip to Sebasticook Lake and another to the coast, tallied ninety total species, including Sandhill Cranes and an American Goshawk, which both became “Bird of the Day” on their respective trips. Overall, starting a Birding Club was one of the most meaningful things I’ve ever done and I can’t wait to jump back into it next fall—after I’ve returned from studying abroad in Costa Rica!

Quizzing the UMaine Birding Club on bird vocalizations!

So that’s a wrap, people. Braden and I want to thank you for tuning in and sharing your enthusiasm with us, and we hope that 2024 brings you a rewarding year of seeing, learning about, and protecting the animals we all love.

July Shorbs & Other Surprises

Here, as we’re about to roll into September, I finally have time to fill in a bit of the rest of our summer birding shenanigans. Those of you who have followed our blog may have gleaned that we don’t generally put much effort into our late July birding. The reasons aren’t too hard to uncover. By late July, most birds have stopped singing, rendering them much more difficult to find and identify. Meanwhile, shorebird migration season hasn’t really hit full stride. In short, there’s very little low-hanging birding fruit to draw us into the field.

A cooperative Alder Flycatcher on Bellview Road near Choteau.

What did draw us out in late July, however, was the presence of our friend Nick Ramsey passing through Missoula for a few days. With Braden home, and Nick also in Missoula, we really had no choice but to embark on a birding adventure. We decided on a two-night/three-day trip, and headed out on Friday, July 28 curious about what we would find. Having already birded a lot this summer, I let “the boys” decide what they’d like to see, and both had been sorely missing prairie birds, so we pointed the trusty minivan toward Great Falls.

Our adventure started out promisingly when we saw Black Terns near Brown’s Lake and heard a Northern Waterthrush—along with a host of other species—next to the road past Lincoln. After hitting Benton Lake NWR at the height of breeding season in June (see post “Festival Report: Wings Across the Big Sky 2023”), I wondered what might await us there, and to my delight, almost everything I’d seen in June now presented itself almost two months later. These included Long-billed Curlews, Upland Sandpipers, Sharp-tailed Grouse, and gobs and gobs of adorable baby Eared Grebes.

https://ebird.org/checklist/S145834937

Time was a-wastin’, so after a couple of wonderful hours, we sped to our next destination, Freezeout Lake. You may recall that I saw my first Montana American Bittern there only two months ago, but today started out a little slow. As we continued driving, though, the species kept piling up. It hit its climax when we stopped at “Pond 4”, on the opposite side of the highway from the main, large ponds. Here, we stumbled into a wonderful assortment of shorebirds. “But you said shorbs hadn’t started migration yet,” I can hear you all saying. Well, guess what? I was wrong. Deal with that!

The shorbs in front of us included Baird’s and Least Sandpipers, Wilson’s and Red-necked Phalaropes, Spotted and Solitary Sandpipers, yellowlegs, and a nice bunch of dowitchers. Speaking of, Braden and Nick “liked” one or two of these for Short-billed Dowitchers, an elusive species in Montana, but notoriously hard to identify. It wasn’t until another bird flew in, scaring the flock away that the boys confirmed a “shorty” by call in the flock!

I know, lousy photo, but this Sandhill Crane family at Freezeout reminded me of camels crossing the Sahara! Franklin’s Gulls, not vultures, lurk in the background.

But wait, that’s not all. As we were admiring all of the other birds, an American Bittern flew in and settled next to the cattails only fifty yards from us! Here, Braden and I had gone almost a decade without seeing one, and this marked my second visual sighting in one summer!

But wait, that’s not all. After the AMBI flew away again, a Prairie Falcon screamed over the pond, flushing every bird out there. We got amazing looks, and with his new camera, Nick captured incredible photos! To see some of them, look at our checklist:

https://ebird.org/checklist/S145853272

Our day hadn’t finished, either. After leaving Freezeout, we trundled up Bellview Road to find Thick-billed Longspurs, Alder Flycatchers, Veerys, and more. Finally, exhausted, we made our way to East Glacier, where I’d booked a hotel for two nights. Since leaving Missoula, we’d recorded more than 110 species—and our trip was only a third over! Alas, fall is settling in as I write this so I probably won’t get around to blogging about the rest of our adventure, but if you want an idea what we did the next two days, please revisit my post “In Search of the Wily White-tailed Ptarmigan, 2022!”

On our drive home, this fire near Arlee reminded us that it was definitely fire season. This was one of three fresh blazes we saw as we headed back to Missoula from Glacier.

Bear Canyon—Montana’s “Tropical Birding” Paradise

With this post, I am officially back from Japan—and loving the spring birding around Montana. In this episode, I revisit one of our favorite Montana places to bird, Bear Canyon. As is often the case, I was hot on the heels of one of my nemesis birds, Sagebrush Sparrow. Thanks for following along—and Happy Mother’s Day and Global Big Day!

When I shared my most recent Montana birding list with my friend, Roger, he joked, “Does Montana have secret tropical zones I’m not aware of?” I answered, “It does. It’s called Bear Canyon.”

In all honesty, to call Bear Canyon tropical is a stretch, but it may be the state’s best example of the Big Basin habitat that dominates much of the interior West—and it’s probably the best place to pick up “southern leaning” species that are truly elusive elsewhere in the state. These include Blue-gray Gnatcatcher, Gray Flycatcher, Sage Thrasher, Pinyon Jay, and my nemesis bird, Sagebrush Sparrow. When I was invited for some speaking events in the Billings area in early May, in fact, Bear Canyon immediately popped to mind. Studying the eBird bar charts it looked I might be a tad early for some of the species there—but that didn’t stop me from going for it. I was on the road from Billings by 6:30 and pulled up to a rocky parking spot at the mouth of the canyon just before 8:30. Two gorgeous Lark Sparrows greeted me as I parked. A good omen.

As I hiked up and over a small hump into the canyon, the birds wasted no time revealing themselves. A Rock Wren—my first of the year—belted out its scratchy, repetitive song from the top of a juniper tree, and almost immediately, another song caught my attention. I punched in Sound ID and pumped my fist. “Yeah! Gray Flycatcher!” Moments later, I observed the bird a hundred yards away—the first of half a dozen Gray Flycatchers I would see that morning. Sound ID also recorded Brewer’s Sparrows and Green-tailed Towhees, but since I don’t know their calls and didn’t see either one, I didn’t record them. It also picked up my nemesis, Sagebrush Sparrow—but I think that was an error since to my knowledge they are rarely reported in the canyon itself.

Seeing Gray Flycatchers was a treat, but to have one pose a reasonably short distance away added greatly to the experience.

A host of other birds also showed including Chipping Sparrows, Mountain Bluebirds, Mountain Chickadees, and Vesper Sparrows—but that still left some big misses including Blue-gray Gnatcatchers (too early) and Pinyon Jays (probably off in another canyon). Still, it was a spectacular morning, and Bear Canyon was about as pretty a place I could ever hope to have all to myself.

After two hours, I returned to the car and moved onto the next phase of my day—searching for Sage Thrashers and Sagebrush Sparrows. Driving south down a dirt road from the canyon, I remembered Braden’s advice to get out and actually walk through the sagebrush if I really wanted to find the sparrow. I dutifully did this three times. The first time, a jackrabbit about scared the sagebrush out of me! However, I also was rewarded with actual looks at the Brewer’s Sparrows I had been hearing in Bear Canyon proper, which was great. In fact it was the first time I actually got to study these handsome, but subtle, birds and watch them sing.

My second walk revealed more Brewer’s Sparrows, along with numerous Vesper Sparrows, Horned Larks, and Western Meadowlarks that inundated the area.

Which brings me to my third walk—and you’re going to guess that’s when I finally found a Sagebrush Sparrow, right? Alas, no. As I was walking back toward the car, however, a large bird suddenly burst into the air right in front of me. Its wings sounded like a helicopter. I immediately knew it was some kind of grouse, and guessed it was a Greater Sage-Grouse. Watching it fly away through binoculars, though, I just couldn’t be sure. Darn, I thought. That would have been super cool. Only a few footsteps later, though, SIX of the big birds leaped out of the sage and thundered away—and this time there was no doubt. I caught bold black and white head markings on a couple of the grouse, and even more revealing, black bellies on most of them. I was elated! This was the first time I’d seen Greater Sage-Grouse since birding with Nick and Braden six years before and to find them on my own, well, it felt like an accomplishment.

I haven’t talked much about it much, but this was some of the best country ever for Western Meadowlarks and Vesper Sparrows—and pretty decent for Horned Larks, too.

Disappointingly, I saw not a trace of Sage Thrasher, a bird Braden and I had seen here in numbers only three years before. According to the eBird bar charts, they should have been here, too. And the Sagebrush Sparrow? Well, to be honest, I didn’t expect to find one of those on my own. After all, it was a nemesis bird, right? Still, I clung to the memories of the Greater Sage-Grouse as I continued driving down the dirt road, and just tried to appreciate the magnificent sagebrush and snow-covered mountains around me.

Eventually, the road connected with a larger dirt road, and I turned right. I could see the highway up ahead, but coming around a corner I spotted a small bird landing on a bush fifty yards away. Better look, I told myself. I parked the car and whipped my binoculars to my eyes.

Then, I started to get excited.

The bird definitely looked like a sparrow, but with a darker head. It was partly obscured by a branch, so I took a few steps to the left, praying it wouldn’t fly away. It didn’t. And that was enough to confirm it—my first and only Sagebrush Sparrow!

AT LAST! Right when I’d about given up hope, a gorgeous adult Sagebrush Sparrow decided I’d worked hard enough to find him! Thank you!

The bird flew across the road to another bush and I pulled the car up a bit closer before again getting out. Now, I had a fairly distant, but wonderful view of the bird as it sang its melodious song. Nemesis no more! I thought and watched it for several minutes before it flew off. I thanked the bird and this remarkable ecosystem, and then headed back to Billings.