Category Archives: Seabirds

A Tornado of Warblers (Braden’s first report from Maine)

My dad and I were hungry. Not for food; we’d already eaten at a fabulous breakfast place in Bar Harbor following the cancellation of our whale-watching trip (which we weren’t all that disappointed by). No, my dad and I wanted warblers.

Earlier that week we’d gotten a taste of the eastern warblers we’d heard so much about, nabbing Common Yellowthroat, Yellow, and a nice Black-and-White Warbler in Massachusetts. The day before today we’d gone to Taylor Bait Farm, a well-known hotspot in Orono, Maine, where the University of Maine (my new home for the next few years) was located. The farm was fairly productive, nabbing us a few cool county birds like Solitary Sandpiper and some Great Egrets. The best part about Taylor Bait Farm, however, was the warblers—specifically, a bright, nonbreeding male Chestnut-sided Warbler that posed for us below eye level for thirty seconds before diving back into the bushes! It was a first lifer warbler in several years, and probably the best-looking one in terms of nonbreeding plumage. During our whole outing at Taylor Bait Farm, we saw a few more Chestnut-sided Warblers and Northern Parulas, and got a really poor look at a Palm Warbler, another lifer, in a tree above us.

**Chestnut-sided Warbler proved our Bird of the Day when my dad and I visited the Taylor Bait Farm in Orono.**

But it wasn’t enough. Furthermore, we had ended up at Acadia National Park, which was known for its beautiful views and seabirds, not its warblers. My dad and I started driving around the main park loop, stopping at parking lots to try to pick up some of the eastern seabirds that we needed. After a few stops with nothing but eiders and Great Black-backed Gulls, we finally got our dose of Atlantic birds with a few Black Guillemots floating offshore and a distant Northern Gannet flying through the sea fog, both lifers for my dad. Unfortunately, it looked like that very fog was going to limit our chances of seeing things like shearwaters and storm-petrels from shore.

At the third parking lot, as we piled out to scope the beach, I happened to look up at a tree just beginning to turn yellow and I spotted a small yellow bird foraging in it. I brought my binoculars to my eyes and yelled, “Daddy! There’s a Blackburnian Warbler above you!” As he looked up, I started to see that the Blackburnian Warbler, a species we hadn’t seen since 2016, was not the only bird above us. There were passerines flying between and feeding in trees all around us.

We started calling out names as we followed the mixed flock.

“Red-eyed Vireo! Black-and-White Warbler! American Redstart!”

**One of our favorite songbirds, Black-and-White Warblers have become almost commonplace for me since moving East.**

As the flock moved into a group of conifers I glimpsed one of our target species for the trip feeding on the left side of a spruce. “Magnolia Warbler, get your eyes on it!”

We left the parking lot (and the people wondering what we were gawking at) and walked into the woods, continuing to see if we could pull more warblers out of the already insane mixed flock. I spotted several “Baypoll” warblers at one point, a group that includes Blackpoll and Bay-breasted Warblers that look notoriously similar in fall. Finally, I watched one long enough to see a hint of a bay-colored side, identifying it as a Bay-breasted. The mixed flock, in total, had 14 species including 8 species of warblers—more than we’d ever seen in any flock in Montana!

https://ebird.org/checklist/S93635091

Unfortunately my dad had to fly home a few days later, but the warblers weren’t done with me yet. September, the best birding month in much of the east, had just begun, and the University of Maine campus happened to be located next to some perfect habitat for warblers during fall migration. I began birding a trail near my dorm, called the Cornfield Loop, several times a week to search for my other eastern target species: Canada Warbler, Cape May Warbler and Philadelphia Vireo.

The hits came fast. After about a week of scoping the area out, I started seeing large mixed flocks of migrating warblers coming through and in one spot had both of my first two targets within a few trees of one another! My reaction for both of them was the same: I can’t believe this bird actually exists! Warblers became the norm, and I got used to listening for chickadees in order to tell me if there might be something else nearby. Red-eyed and Blue-headed Vireos, Northern Parulas, American Redstarts and Common Yellowthroats popped out of every piece of plant life available, and one marsh yielded huge flocks of sparrows every time I walked through it. Seeing familiar warblers was also a treat: I found both Nashville and Wilson’s during my walks, the latter of which isn’t the easiest to find in the east. Here is one of my lists:

https://ebird.org/checklist/S94686023

**It is odd seeing warblers, such as this Wilson’s Warbler that my dad and I see fairly frequently in Montana, back here in Maine—especially since they are more difficult to see here.**

It wasn’t just the Cornfield Loop that had warblers; campus was covered in them. Several mornings I left my dorm for breakfast to be greeted by Black-throated Green Warblers foraging in my face. One night as I walked back from a movie with friends, I began to wonder what all of the high-pitched chips I was hearing were. Could they be sleeping chickadees? No, that doesn’t sound right…and then it hit me. The east was known for its nocturnal migration, and the University of Maine sat right in the middle of the Atlantic Flyway. This meant that the chips I was hearing were the nocturnal flight calls of hundreds, maybe thousands of birds passing over in the dark on their way south to Texas, Florida and beyond! I stared up at the stars, hoping to catch a glimpse of a silhouette as one of these migrating champions flew over.

I got my Philadelphia Vireo by mid-September, pointed out to me by a non-birder friend.

“Hey,” he asked, “What kind of warbler’s that?”

Before I even had my binoculars up I could see the yellow breast, dark eyeline and cute demeanor of a species I’d been dreaming about finding in Montana ever since my friend Nick first alerted me to it. “Philadelphia Vireo, nice find!”

**Philadelphia Vireo has definitely been one of my favorite new eastern birds, and I’ve seen them multiple times right on the Cornfield Loop right across from my dorm!**

On one walk about a week ago, I was running through the options in my head as to what warblers I still needed for Maine. I had not yet found a Tennessee or Blackpoll Warbler, which was kind of funny considering those were two species my dad and I have found the last few springs in eastern Montana. I was also somehow missing Black-throated Blue, a supposedly common bird that I still needed for my life list.

Suddenly, I spotted a skulky, heavyset passerine fly into a bush near me, making heavy calls. It was acting a lot like a Common Yellowthroat, by far the most common warbler on campus, but I continued to watch it just in case it was one of the rarer species. Sure enough, it briefly popped into view before flying over the trail and out of sight. It flashed me a very dark chest spot contrasting with a complete gray hood as it flew, what I would have called a MacGillivray’s out west. That meant that I’d just scored a Mourning Warbler—MacGillivray’s eastern counterpart and a supposedly much more difficult bird to find. No way!! While Mourning had been on my radar, I hadn’t expected to get it or any of the rarer warblers given that I’d just gotten to Maine less than a month before and was still very content with the common birds.

**Though not as flashy as many other species, Palm Warbler surprised me and my dad, and was a welcome addition to our Life Lists.**

This past week I’ve gotten both Blackpoll and Tennessee Warbler on the Cornfield Loop, bringing the total number of warbler species of seen in Maine to 20, all of which I’d seen in a month compared to the sixteen species of warblers I’d seen in Montana across seven years of birding. I still don’t have Black-throated Blue (though it is definitely still possible), but unfortunately warbler migration is beginning to die down here. Just yesterday eBird marked my report of American Redstart as rare, meaning that a few species are beginning to leave for good. The warblers are now moving through much of the southern United States, including Texas, which you may get to hear about soon from my dad!

Winter Birding in Israel, Part 1: Neighborhood Birding

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If you are an avid fan of FatherSonBirding—and let’s face it, who isn’t?—you’ll know that Braden and I recently had an adventure of a lifetime in Israel and Jordan. Over the next few posts, we’d like to share that adventure, starting with ordinary neighborhood birding, and what any casual visitor might expect to see in Israel in January.

**The Hooded Crow not only was our first Israeli bird, it was one that would provide constant entertainment and companionship throughout our trip.**

Before flying to the Holy Land, Braden and I had already learned the value of studying up on birds of a new area, so when our flight touched down in Tel Aviv at 2 a.m., we hit the ground running. Well, sort of. First, we got on a train and traveled to our friends’ house in the pleasant coastal town of Binyamina. As soon as we’d showered and eaten breakfast, our hosts’ 14-year-old son, Noam, led us out on a tour of the neighborhood.

Now, I have to preface this by saying that Israel is the only place I know where if you go out birding, you not only have a chance of encountering some amazing historic site, you are almost guaranteed it. Only a block from his house, Noam led us to a remarkable Ottoman well that was 400-plus years old. Braden and I would have been more in awe if we weren’t already mesmerized by the variety of birds we were seeing! Our first Israeli bird? Hooded Crow, a handsome and charismatic corvid that would become a regular companion on our trip. This was soon followed by other delights including Great Tits, White-spectacled Bulbuls, Graceful Prinias, and Common Chiffchaffs, none of which we really expected to see! The most “crowd-pleasing?” The Palestinian Sunbird, an analog to American hummingbirds. We saw several, in fact, hovering to slurp up the nectar of some bright red flowers.

**The Middle East’s “hummingbird”, the Palestinian Sunbird. The convergence of both habits and appearance of these guys with our own hummers is remarkable.**

Once we passed the Ottoman well, we headed out to open farmland where we encountered a totally different suite of birds, starting with the same Rose-ringed Parakeets we’d seen in Amsterdam literally hours before (see our post “Layover Birding in Amsterdam”). Here we also encountered a charming little flycatcher called the European Stonechat—another frequent companion for our next two weeks. In the distance, we saw our first Black-winged Kite and Common Buzzard—Europe’s “Red-tailed Hawk.” Near a pond, we spotted several Glossy Ibis in flight and then came the punctuation of our first birding experience: a flight of four Great White Pelicans that flew right over us.

**Besides having a great name, the European Stonechat is a great behavioral study as it behaves very similarly to American flycatchers.**

Our first bird list totaled a satisfying twenty-one species, many of which we wouldn’t have recognized if we hadn’t done our homework ahead of time. Best of all, there was much, much more to come! Stay tuned . . .

**The appearance of pelicans overhead both floored and delighted us!**

Incredible Birthday Birding

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On Tuesday, February 4th, my dad woke me up at 7 o’clock, a restful relief from the 4:45 wake-up time I’d adapted to being on the Hellgate High School Swim Team. Despite an increasingly significant school workload, I’d decided (with parental permission, of course) to take my birthday off and head north to bird with my dad. Aside from the obvious perks of birding places like Ninepipe National Wildlife Refuge and Flathead Lake, we had several goals in mind. A few days earlier, an Ivory Gull, an incredibly rare arctic species, had been sighted at Blue Bay on Flathead. There was also supposedly a Northern Hawk Owl, a boreal species that rarely visited the United States, at Swan River National Wildlife Refuge in the valley just to the east of the lake. We set out at eight o clock, fifteen minutes after the bell for my school rang, heading north with visions of rare birds soaring through our minds.

Though the gull, being the rarest of the possibilities today, was our priority, we had to make several stops. First, we made a speed-run of Ninepipe, visiting both the frozen lake itself and a nearby road that supposedly had been supporting a Ferruginous Hawk all winter. The hawk wasn’t quite as rare as the other species we were chasing, but raptors proved hard to find even in their regular, summer habitat in the eastern prairies. Today, we found the white-breasted bird fairly easily, along with several Red-taileds, Bald Eagles, Rough-leggeds and a Prairie Falcon flashing its dark armpits as it fled from a telephone pole. At Ninepipe itself, we almost collided with an airborne Ring-necked Pheasant, and crept down a dirt drive to snap photos of a possible Ross’s-Snow Goose hybrid.

We grabbed a delicious breakfast at the Ronan Cafe, then drove north through Polson, stopping at a fishing access on Flathead to check for gulls. The Ivory had last been seen heading south, and this hotspot, known as the Ducharme Fishing Access, also reliably held uncommon arctic and seafaring gulls like Iceland, Herring and Mew. In fact, due to the lake’s size, seabirds showed up on an annual basis, confusing it with an inland sea. The Ivory Gull was just the most recent, and possibly rarest, of these visitors. Today, however, we glimpsed only a few Ringed-billeds in the distance.

**When the gull took flight, we thought it might be leaving. Instead it landed on a dock only about fifteen feet from us. Wish we’d had some krill in our pockets!**

Normally, my dad and I don’t have the best luck chasing rarities. We’ve successfully found a few, usually by accident or thanks to excessive diligence of Nick Ramsey. Last summer, for instance, we chased an Indigo Bunting, Virginia’s Warbler, Black-throated Gray Warblers and Blue-gray Gnatcatchers in central Montana, only finding the bunting, which was difficult to miss in its neon blue plumage. When we pulled up to Blue Bay, though, we found two birders and one bird. That bird was the Ivory Gull, dressed in blank plumage dotted with black. At first we thought it was a plastic bag, due to its immobility, and proceeded to freak out immediately after raising our binoculars. The other birders, who had travelled from Washington to see this bird that normally dwells among the pack ice with polar bears, left fairly quickly after our arrival, leaving us alone on the beach to bask in the bird’s rarity and fill up our camera memory cards. The gull was incredibly tame, at one point landing five feet from us on a dry dock!

**Strike a pose! This gull is obviously a huge Madonna fan!**

After our success with the gull, we decided to drive north, then east, to Swan River in hopes of finding the owl. The location had been given to us by Nick, and it was much less direct and accessible than the gull had been. First we pulled off the highway at a makeshift parking lot, far from civilization, then trudged a mile through snow to a huge, open field. We proceeded to check and double-check the top of every pine, fir, larch and spruce in the area, searching for the diurnal bog-dweller. After searching the entire south end of the field, where the owl was supposed to be, we took a quick glance across the other side of the field. On a particular conifer far from us, a gray smudge caught the edge of my vision. I took a distant photo, confirming that it indeed was a gray smudge, and we continued to walk towards it. Once we got close enough to determine that it was at least bird-shaped, it disappeared!

**If this isn’t an imposing, regal look, we don’t know what is. Good thing the owl couldn’t shoot lightning bolts down at us!**

We frantically began re-checking every tree in the area, eventually relocating it again and—it was the owl! This time we didn’t take our eyes off it, eventually getting to about twenty feet from the tree that it perched on top of, like a star on a Christmas Tree. It glared at us, and we stared back, taking in its broad shoulders, square head and beautifully-patterned plumage. In an attempt to get better photos, my dad crossed a ditch, filling his rain boots with ice-cold water, and after the owl got bored with us, everyone departed. We had set out and seen every bird we’d wanted to, including three rarities, one of which (the gull) would quickly become at least nationally famous! To seal the deal, on the way home we glimpsed a Northern Shrike, another uncommon winter species that we hadn’t seen in a while. All in all, an incredible bird-filled birthday!

**Me with my Birthday Gull perched behind me. Best Gift Ever!**

Going For Gulls (Part 1)

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Just returned from a fun speaking road trip, where I got to share Braden’s and my birding adventures with fellow birders at Coeur d’Alene Audubon, the Puget Sound Bird Fest, Edmonds Bookshop, and Eagle Harbor Book Co. Thank you for the great turnouts, everyone! I, of course, also hoped to get in some good birding on the trip, but weather—or perhaps bad birding karma—conspired against me. The one bright spot? Gulls!

**This Mew Gull at The Nature Conservancy’s Foulweather Bluff Preserve was a real surprise—and the first Mew Gull Braden or I had seen on the ground.**

I don’t know about you, but I find gulls vexing. I do not even try to ID immature gulls, but the adults also offer enough variation to render me apoplectic. My first birding stop was Potholes State Park, about thirty miles south of Moses Lake, Washington. I arrived at a crummy time of day, but enjoyed seeing dozens of migrating Yellow-rumped Warblers and few White-crowned Sparrows. Looking out at the reservoir, however, I noticed a black-headed gull in the distance. I tramped toward it, figuring it had to be a Bonaparte’s or Franklin’s Gull. I mean this far inland what else could it be? The problem was the bird’s weird bill, which should have been either red or black. Instead, this bill was black with a yellow tip. “Geez,” I thought. “Maybe it’s turning red.” I called Braden to ask his opinion, but he was stuck in class back in Missoula, so I snapped a few photos and moved on.

What the . . . ? A gull with a black head and half-yellow bill was about the last thing I expected to see in the interior of Washington State. I guessed it was a weird Bonaparte’s Gull—and I was wrong. Read below for the shocking conclusion!

The next day in Seattle, my friends Steve and Carol and I took the ferry to Kingston and drove to Point No Point lighthouse, which had shown a lot of great water bird activity in the past few days. Alas, except for a few Rhinocerous Auklets, very little moved on the beach or offshore so I again turned my attention to gulls. I saw what looked like a Glaucous-winged Gull except that its tail was too dark, so I decided it must be a Herring Gull, as its wings were too light for a Western. Later, however, I ran into a couple of different birders who told me that Puget Sound was awash in hybrid gulls, mostly Glaucous-winged x Herring Gull or Glaucous-winged x Western. I had heard of hybrid gulls before, but didn’t realize they were so abundant and decided the one I had looked at must be a Glaucous-winged x Herring.

“Well-behaved” gulls that follow ID rules are difficult enough to identify. Unfortunately, many gulls make birders’ lives more difficult by hybridizing! Is this a Glaucous-winged x Herring Gull hybrid or a Glaucous-winged x Western Gull hybrid? The lighter wings and tail push me toward the former, but if you disagree, please weigh in!

A couple of mornings later, at the Puget Sound Birding Fest in Edmonds, my dismal birding luck continued—except for the gulls! Along the waterfront, I found 400 Heermann’s Gulls—probably Braden’s and my favorite gulls. I also found my first definite California Gull of the trip and settled in to give the hybrids more study. In a later post, I will try to explain the mental flow-chart I use for gulls, but suffice to say, it was a most enjoyable morning spent sharpening my gull skills and knowledge.

**Heermann’s Gulls are not only some of the most beautiful gulls, they are among the easiest to identify. Can you tell why Braden and I love them so much?**

The best discovery awaited me when I returned to Montana, however, and was showing Braden my gull photos. We found that I had taken a photo of a Mew Gull (which I had assumed was a juvenile of another species). Then, I showed him my “mystery” black-headed gull from Potholes State Park. “You saw that?” he exclaimed. “Well, yeah. Do you know what it is?” “Yeah,” he answered, and pulled up photos of a gull that had never even been on my radar—a Sabine’s Gull! This gull breeds in the Arctic tundra and migrates offshore of the Pacific coast. According to Sibley, “migrants rarely appear on inland ponds, lakes or rivers,” and yet here I’d seen one 200 miles from the coast!

Lesson Number 1: Once again, that birds don’t read the guide books. Lesson #2: That I still have a LOT to learn about gulls—but am making progress!

San Diego Seabirds

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Our last day of the San Diego Bird Festival took us away from shore on the mighty birding (and perhaps fishing) vessel New Seaforth. This would be Braden’s and my third California pelagic birding cruise and in many ways it proved the most memorable. Almost immediately upon leaving the safety of Mission Bay, we began seeing dozens of Black-vented Shearwaters heading north and, of course, we followed them. They led us to a massive fish feast, where from 5-10,000 shearwaters gorged themselves on acres of anchovies. At least a thousand gulls, countless cormorants, and sea lions and common dolphins joined the fray.

Every time a shearwater surfaced stuffed with anchovies, gulls mobbed it until it regurgitated part of its catch. Note the shearwater on the far right fleeing the gang ‘o gulls!

After enjoying this spectacle for half an hour, we turned south and angled farther out to sea. Braden said, “I have three priorities today: Scripps’s Murrelets, Pomarine Jaegers, and Brown Boobies.” My own priority was simpler: I really wanted to see a Brown Booby—or any booby for that matter. It wasn’t long before our target species began showing up.

Scripps’s Murrelets were only described for science in 1859 and were heading toward extinction before efforts to rid their nesting islands of invasive rats and cats.

Undoubtedly the stars of the day were the Scripps’s Murrelets. These birds nest only in the Santa Barbara Channel Islands and on Mexico’s Coronado Islands, which loomed in the distance. The murrelets lay gigantic eggs compared to their body sizes—a full twenty percent of an adult’s weight. This advanced “in egg” development is no accident. Only two days after hatching, the chicks sneak away to the ocean to be raised by their parents almost entirely at sea. As we steamed south, we saw more and more of these adorable alcids, usually floating in pairs.

The boat “chummed” with popcorn, and that kept the gulls busy behind the boat, but also attracted brief visits from Braden’s second target, Pomarine Jaegers. Then Paul Lehman, our leader for the day, shouted over the PA, “Brown Booby at 12:00 o’clock, coming straight toward the boat!”

Braden and I had longed to see a booby in American waters since visiting the Galapagos in 2016.

I hurried to the rail in time to see the elegant “gannet shape” of the booby as it sped fifty yards off the port side. The bird even did a quick circuit around the stern, giving us all good looks at its handsome chocolate-covered head and back before speeding away again.

“Yes!” I whispered to myself.

The day wasn’t without its challenges. The steady 3-foot swell took a toll on Braden, forcing him below deck for part of the journey. Still, he agreed that the birds were worth the queasiness and, as if to drive home the point, a pod of common dolphins escorted us part of the way back to the mainland.

Hasta la vista, San Diego—until the next time!