Category Archives: Rare Vagrants

“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 “1st 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.)

Our Accidental Big Year: Final Tally, Part 2

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Happy New Year Everyone! Thanks for reading, and may the birds be with all of us in 2022!

After zooming past my former Big Year record, as highlighted in our last post, Braden and I woke the next morning with the promise of a mostly rainless day—and therefore a chance to bird some exciting new places we’d never birded before. Armed with recommendations Braden had gleaned from Oregon native Miles Scheuering (see “When Montana Birders Collide”), we first hit a place just north of Cannon Beach called Seaside Cove, hoping to see Braden’s Number One Target Bird for the entire trip: Rock Sandpiper.

I didn’t know much about Rock Sandpipers except that they breed in far north Alaska and the Aleutians, with a similar coastal distribution in eastern Asia. They can be found in small numbers along the West Coast to Northern California on rocky shores, and are basically the West Coast equivalent of Purple Sandpiper. Unfortunately, they are decidedly uncommon, and when we pulled up to Seaside Cove we saw nothing but a few surfers braving the roaring, messy waves. We walked along the beach anyway, though, and began scanning the rocks, and soon movement caught our eyes: a couple of dozen Surfbirds scattered along the shore, together with a Black Turnstone here and there. As we were walking back toward the car, though, Braden suddenly shouted, “I’ve got him!” Sure enough, next to a Black Turnstone, a bird that looked a lot like a Surfbird—but with a longer, curved bill similar to that of a Dunlin—picked barnacles off the rocks!

This Rock Sandpiper proved to be the “Bird of the Trip” for Braden and me—and just happened to be my 500th All-time ABA Life Bird, a milestone Braden passed earlier in the year. Note the larger, darker—and equally handsome—Black Turnstone behind the sandpiper. Watch the video here!

Thrilled, we watched the ROSA for a good fifteen minutes, just enjoying this rare bird that we were unlikely to see again anytime soon. After finding this Lifer for both of us, we climbed back into the trusty minivan feeling like the rest of the day would be gravy. And what gravy it turned out to be!

NOTE: To watch a live-action video of our Rock Sandpiper discovery, check out our YouTube video here: https://youtu.be/oFaNC3aR8CQ

After a couple of stops at Necanicum River Estuary to look at distant Dunlins and Sanderlings, and less distant Surf Scoters, we drove Del Rey Beach in an unsuccessful bid for endangered Snowy Plovers, though we may have run over six or ten while speeding along the sand. Oh well.

Though our beach drive in search of Snowy Plovers proved a bust—our only miss of the day—nearby Necanicum River Estuary gave us the trip’s closest look at Surf Scoters.

Then, we moved on to Sunset Beach Recreation Area. Starting down the trail, I didn’t expect much, but soon, WHOA! Songbirds started popping up everywhere: Fox Sparrows (hard to observe in Montana), Yellow-rumped Warblers, Spotted Towhees, Black-capped and Chestnut-backed Chickadees—even a Bewick’s Wren made an appearance. Two species were stars of the show: at least ten spectacularly-plumed Varied Thrushes that flew and perched around us, and a pair of Wrentits, birds that had been high on my target list, but seemed like an uncertain possibility. Both species are some of our favorite birds, and this was by far our best, most intimate look at the thrushes, and one of the best of the Wrentits, which were noticeably darker than those we’d observed in California. Incredibly, our day was far from finished!

  • Varied Thrushes are not only some of our favorite ABA birds, they are without a doubt some of the most stunning visually!
  • We also love Wrentits–and noticed that those in Oregon are significantly darker than the ones we’d seen in California.

As the morning zoomed on, we continued to pick up species, grabbing Braden’s FOY (First Of Year) Cackling Geese, and breaking another of his trip goals, exceeding 100 species on his Oregon Life List. BOO-YA! Minutes later, at another spot Miles had recommended, Wireless Rd. near Astoria, we found more than 60 Short-billed (formerly Mew) Gulls in a cow pasture, along with yet ANOTHER ABA LIFER, Lesser Black-backed Gull. Then, looking the other direction, Braden watched a large flock of American Wigeon take off and shouted, “I think I see orange!” We spun the scope around, and sure enough, located a Eurasian Wigeon and an American-Eurasian Wigeon hybrid.

Not until we posted this uncommon West Coast visitor, a Lesser Black-backed Gull, did Braden and I realize that we had also seen them in Israel right before the pandemic. Note the dainty Short-billed Gulls (formerly Mew Gulls) and, perhaps, a large juvenile Western Gull surrounding it in this cow pasture.

The rest of our trip, we added County, State, and Year Birds, reaching almost every goal that we had set for ourselves. For Braden that included seeing the Rock Sandpiper, breaking 100 in Oregon, and yes, ALSO breaking his Big Year Record, coming in at 335 species! For myself, I shattered every expectation, reaching 352 Accidental Big Year Birds, nudging Oregon past Idaho into the fifth spot of states with my highest totals, and scoring two unlikely Lifers, Black-legged Kittiwake and Rock Sandpiper. In fact, Rock Sandpiper, proved special for another reason. It became my 500th ABA Life Bird, a milestone long in the making.

Of course, you all know the best part of the whole deal: getting to bird with Braden again after a three-month absence. As 2022 kicks in, we look forward to a lot more birding together and apart, and wish you all wonderful, satisfying birding in the company of those you love. Sneed and Braden

When Montana Birders Collide, Great Birds Can Happen (Report from Braden)

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There was no Snowy Owl in the field. Someone had reported the owl from the field this morning, but there was nothing white in sight aside from the post office where we’d parked—not even a plastic bag pretending to be a Snowy Owl! I turned to Miles. “I thought Snowy Owls were supposed to be easy in Maine. What do you wanna do now? There was a Gray Kingbird reported from York County, Maine, yesterday. Although that’s a three hour drive…” I suggested, sure that was out of the question.

To my surprise, Miles looked at me. “Well, we missed the owl. Might as well go big or go home!” We piled into the car and headed south!

Miles Scheuering had contacted me a few weeks ago about the fact that he would be in Maine as part of a going-on-three-month road trip he’d been on this fall. I’d run into him a few times in Missoula when he’d attended the University of Montana, but never really gotten the chance to talk to him, so I jumped at the chance of birding together! He’d picked me up at my dorm that morning, neither of us with specific birding targets in mind. Now we were driving towards southern Maine on a whim, hoping that the Caribbean bird that had randomly showed up in a coastal neighborhood would still be there when we arrived. Along the drive, we began filling in our lists for the counties we passed through as I learned about how Miles’s road trip had gone. He’d struck out from Portland, Oregon in September, driving through Colorado up to Montana, and then straight down to the Salton Sea in southern California. He then had shot east through the Lower Rio Grande Valley in Texas, around the Gulf of Mexico, and up through New England until arriving in Orono to pick me up. 

Having fellow Montana birder Miles Scheuering show up in Maine was a welcome surprise—and led to some BIG BIRDING! Thank you Miles!

And now he found himself again driving south with me in tow to chase what appeared to be only Maine’s fourth ever eBird record of a Gray Kingbird, a Caribbean bird that shouldn’t have been within 1500 miles of Maine but had an unusual habit of straying north in late fall. Ironically, I had been in Florida a few weeks ago for Thanksgiving but had not even dreamed of seeing this bird then.

Driving south, we passed small, coastal towns including Biddeford and Kennebunk that had become familiar to me during the last few months, especially because I’d made friends who lived there. A few miles south of Biddeford, we hung a left, and the Atlantic Ocean soon came into view. So, too, did a large number of cars and people wearing binoculars and cameras walking along a single road bordered by a rocky breakwater. We parked, then headed toward the commotion. Almost immediately, someone pointed a small bird out to us several dozen meters away. It was actively flycatching and landing on the rocks, stopping periodically to admire the large crowd that had gathered to watch it. The flycatcher was slate gray, with a dark, raccoon-like mask and a hefty, Eastern Kingbird-esque bill. It was definitely a Gray Kingbird!

Maine is the last place I expected to nab my lifer Gray Kingbird—a bird that shouldn’t have been within 1,500 miles of Maine!

As Miles and I watched the flycatcher sally back and forth across the breakwater, a lady approached us.

“Hey, I know that it’s not the star of the show, but there’s a Snowy Owl on that roof over there.”

I looked up, and sure enough, spotted a large white ball perched on a chimney several hundred meters behind the Gray Kingbird. “No way! I wonder if anyone has ever had Gray Kingbird and Snowy Owl on the same list before today?” I said to Miles as he began scoping the ocean for sea ducks.

It wasn’t the Snowy Owl we’d set out to find, but we’d take it!

“I doubt it…got some Black Scoters though!”

Soon enough we’d picked up all three scoter species (my second time doing that in a day in Maine and my first time doing it in one spot) and Long-tailed Duck. After snapping photos of both the kingbird and the owl, which were both incredibly cooperative, and scanning a large gull flock for anything interesting, we headed out. We probably should have turned around to begin the long drive north again, but instead we continued south to investigate a report of a Black-headed Gull in the town of York, half an hour away. We pulled up at a large sandy beach—a rare sight in Maine—and immediately picked out several flocks of gulls standing beside the rolling tide. Sure enough, I soon observed a dainty gull with bright red legs, a red bill and a dusky ear spot hiding among the larger Ring-billed and Herring Gulls. Black-headed Gull was a lifer for Miles and an ABA lifer for me, and we watched it loiter on the beach as its American counterpart, a Bonaparte’s Gull, dove into the surf behind it.

Can you find the Black-headed Gull here?

Hungry for more, we drove to a nearby lighthouse to check for Purple Sandpipers and Harlequin Ducks. No sandpipers showed themselves but Miles quickly found two groups of mostly male Harlequins hugging the rocky coastline. It was really cool to see these in their wintering habitat as compared to the fast-flowing streams I’d usually seen them in in Glacier National Park.

Not the best photo, but this was the first time I’d ever seen Harlequin Ducks outside of Montana!

We decided to head back towards Orono, briefly stopping to look for a Clay-colored Sparrow in a cemetery in Portland to no avail. Miles dropped me back at UMaine at around 5 pm, and we made sure to exchange information about birding Maine and Oregon. In fact, Miles will be back in Oregon when my family heads over there for Christmas, so you may see his name pop up on another blog in the near future! It had been an epic, rarity-filled day, and I went to bed dreaming of owls on rooftops and flycatchers by the sea.