Category Archives: Shorebirds

Birding Victoria, BC

For my birthday, my wife Amy surprised me with a week-long trip to Vancouver Island, including a three-night stay in Victoria and three more nights at a little cabin overlooking the majestic Pacific Ocean and the Olympic Peninsula across the Salish Sea (or Strait of Juan de Fuca). Amy’s surprising plans delighted me, especially since this was where we honeymooned a couple of decades before, and we’d always wanted to return. I was puzzled, however, when she said, “It’s supposed to be a good place to go birding.” What? Birding? On Vancouver Island? In January? After doing a little research on eBird, however, I concluded that she might just be right. For winter, the area seemed to have a good variety of songbirds, but I got even more excited about the possibility of ocean birds.

While at McMicking Point, this American Crow kindly kept a close watch on my backpack—I’m sure with purely altruistic motives!

Our first morning there, I awoke before dawn, walked to a nearby convenience store to grab nourishment, and then drove our rental car out to McMicking Point just as light seeped across the sky. I was super excited about this spot because someone had reported sixty species there only days before, including several birds that would be lifers pour moi. I had even dragged my large, awkward spotting scope and tripod out from Montana specifically for such opportunities. Alas, I later learned that the “mega lists” I had found on eBird had been compiled by one of the region’s top birders—a guy who apparently could ID a bird miles away just by the way it flew. My experience would prove far different.

Though the bird action seemed at first a bit slow, McMicking Point offered the most scenic vistas you could imagine.

As I set up my scope, my first thought was, “Where are all the birds?” A couple of cormorants—too far away to identify—skimmed the water, along with a few Glaucous-winged Gulls, and I could hear a raven in the neighborhood behind me, but that was it. In such situations, I have learned that it’s important to calm down and be patient—something I am horrible at (just ask Amy), but nonetheless have learned to do. Sure enough, as I trained the scope on some nearby surge channels, I spotted a few Buffleheads and then, to my delight, the trip’s first Harlequin Ducks! In Montana, we have only a narrow window to find HADUs as they breed mainly in a handful of whitewater streams in Glacier and Yellowstone (see our post “In Glacier National Park, When It Rains, It Pours—Animals.”). Because of this, I took extra time to enjoy them.

This trip could be dubbed the “Harlequin Duck Adventure” as I would see far more HADUs this week than in the entire rest of my life!

Through my brand new binoculars (more about these in the next post), I also could see interesting action stirring out on the Trial Islands about a quarter mile offshore. I trained my scope out there and immediately picked up Black Turnstones, Black Oystercatchers, and Dunlins working the rocky shore. Then, I got even more excited as I noted several larger, pale, medium-sized shorebirds. Yay! Black-bellied Plovers! This especially reinforced the value of preparing for any birding trip—especially with birds that are far away. The Dunlins, for instance, would have been more difficult for me to pin down if I had not learned that they were the most likely small shorebirds in the area this time of year. I also had noted Black-bellied Plovers on recent eBird lists for the site, and so was primed to recognize them.

I almost always undercount shorebirds. When I first trained the scope on the Trial Islands, I counted about six Black-bellied Plovers. When they flew, the number exploded to forty! Once again, the black armpits in flight give these away (see our post “Chasing Migrants, Part I: Swifts, Peeps, and Plovers”). For bonus points, can you ID the flying birds on the far left?

After picking up a few more species, I departed McMicking Point with, I should emphasize, a grand total of sixteen species—not the sixty-plus I had been dreaming about. Still, my next stop, Clover Point, would add a few more good ones for the day. Unlike McMicking Point, where I birded alone, Clover Point was well-trodden by walkers, dog owners and, it turns out, a few other birders. Here, I got closer looks at Dunlins, Harlequin Ducks, and oystercatchers, but also picked up both Red-necked and Horned Grebes and Surf Scoters. A friendly birder named John also joined me and pointed out a group of White-winged Scoters in the distance along with what he said was a Red-throated Loon, which Braden and I had seen recently on Cape Cod (see our post “Birding Race Point: Cape Cod’s Pelagic Playground“). I couldn’t convince myself of that ID, but we did spot a Pigeon Guillemot about a quarter mile distant.

Clover Point offered a great chance to watch Dunlins probe the rocky shore for invertebrate morsels.

“Is there anything special you’re looking for?” John asked me.

“I’d love to find some murrelets,” I told him with a sigh.

“Oh, we should be able to find you more alcids,” he told me, scanning the water with his binoculars. Alas, our efforts proved to no avail, and I admit that I wrapped up the morning feeling a bit of a failure. In fact, I mentioned to John the list with sixty birds on it, and he said, “Oh, that birder is a local legend. You look at his lists and you think he’s just making it up, but I’ve birded with him, and he’s the real deal. He can recognize almost anything.”

Love, love, love Black Oystercatchers. Can’t get enough—even though I got to hang out with a couple of dozen on the trip!

That did make me feel better, but even if I had not learned this, it’s important not to fall into the “failure trap.” After all, you can only see what you can see—and the whole point is to enjoy every bird you are lucky enough to encounter. Also, I reminded myself, my Victoria birding was far from over. I brought Amy back to Clover Point the next day, and while she walked along the cliffs, I enjoyed another nice session, including my only encounter with Surfbirds the entire week. These are some of Braden’s and my favorite rocky shore birds, and it was awesome to watch them foraging along with a larger group of Black Turnstones.

Watching Surfbirds (right) foraging with Black Turnstones (left) was one of the highlights of my second visit to Clover Point.

That afternoon, while Amy rested at the hotel, I decided to make the most of the season’s abbreviated daylight hours and take a stroll through Beacon Hill Park, a large park stretching almost from downtown out toward the sea near Clover Point. I intentionally left my camera in the room so I could just appreciate whatever I happened to see—which turned out to be a lot. On the grass right outside of our hotel, I was astonished to see a dozen Yellow-rumped Warblers—birds that I figured ought to be wintering much farther south (Sibley, though, shows them as all-year-round here after all). Once I reached Beacon Park, I began seeing Pine Siskins, Chestnut-backed Chickadees, Red-breasted Nuthatches, and a bird that, because of my crummy ears, always proves a challenge: Golden-crowned Kinglet.

Beacon Hill offered my best experience with land birds of the trip—including a bona fide Victoria vagrant, a Green-tailed Towhee!

After strolling for about half an hour, I stood watching a Ruby-crowned Kinglet flycatching, something I had never seen one do, when another birder approached. In a wonderfully British accent, he asked, “Do you know that within a quarter-mile of here is a great rarity?” I knew immediately what he was talking about. From looking at eBird lists, I had learned that a vagrant Green-tailed Towhee had showed up in Victoria and had set off a frenzy in the local birding community. John at Clover Point had also mentioned it, but I hadn’t realized I had wandered so close.

Victoria birders enthralled with a “rare” Green-tailed Towhee!

“I tried to see it,” my newest birding friend confided, “but you know what I heard—‘Oh, you should have been here five minutes ago.’” Nonetheless, he gave me directions in case I wanted to check it out, and with an hour or so of daylight left, I figured I might as well. I crossed the road and followed a little path up and over a hill until I came to a tall flagpole flying the maple leaf. Sure enough, in the field below, a group of four or five birders had gathered around a small thicket. I quietly approached from behind and spotted movement in a darkened space between two bushes. After a few moments, the familiar shape of the Green-tailed Towhee took the stage.

Although fairly common in Montana in summer, the Green-tailed Towhee that showed up in Victoria recently rocked local birders’ worlds! Full-disclosure: this is not THAT bird, but one I photographed in Bear Canyon several years ago.

It was weird seeing a bird that is relatively common in Montana being such a focus of attention here in Canada, but it was cool, too. It helped me appreciate the enthusiasm of birders no matter where you go in this amazing world. What’s funny, though, is that I got much more excited by the Fox Sparrow foraging a few feet away from the towhee. That is always a tough bird for me to find in Montana, so it was great to have one put in an appearance for me here. With that, I made my way back to our hotel so that Amy and I could go find a fun restaurant to dine at. What I didn’t realize is how much good Canadian birding still lay ahead of me.

The lovely mastermind behind our surprise Victoria trip, my wife Amy, enjoying high tea at the Fairmont Empress Hotel.

(To be continued.)

Our 2024 Recap: Spain, Costa Rica, Japan (again!) and More

2024 has been a record-breaking year for FatherSonBirding—and in more ways than one. Let’s start with the stats. Number of views to our site increased by almost 50% over last year to almost 14,000, while the number of visitors increased 65% to about 10,000. Much of what is driving these increases is interest in our posts about foreign birding destinations including Japan, Costa Rica, and Spain. In fact, viewers from 104 different countries visited our site this past year. Top views from countries other than the US were:

Japan: 445

United Kingdom: 384

Canada: 352

Australia: 244

Singapore: 208

Despite being published in 2023, our birding posts from Japan dominated views this year, especially with FSB visitors from foreign countries! Here, Tessa and I visit The Great Buddha, or Daibutsu, of Kamakura—apparently the second largest Buddha in Japan, one that harkens back to about 1252.

So which of our posts received the most views? Here is our Top 10 for 2024 (plus/minus 10 views each, given the quirks of the statistics-accumulating program):

1. Birding Japan, Kyoto: 811

2. Birding Japan, Tokyo Part I: 573

3. Birding San Antonio’s Riverwalk, Are You Nuts?: 568

4. Birding Barcelona Part I, The Urban Core: 463

5. Birding Japan, Kanazawa: 332

6. Birding Glacier National Park in the “Hot Dry Winter” of 2024: 289

7. Getting Serious About State Birds: 284

8. Braden’s Costa Rica Report #3, El Copal: 249

9. Turning Useless Lawn into Vital Habitat: 196

10. Monotypic Birds, Evolution’s Survivors: 195

A couple of things become evident from this list. One is that many birders are travelers. Even though they are from 2023, our Kyoto and Tokyo posts (links above) continue to get hits every day, often from people outside the United States. Despite this stiff competition, our post about San Antonio’s Riverwalk still wears the crown of our all-time most viewed site. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that all of this is because of how many birders are out traveling the world!

If you remember this Red-shouldered Hawk, you’ve been reading FSB almost from the beginning! Our post on birding San Antonio’s River Walk still holds the title of our most viewed post ever, with almost 2,000 views.

Our top posts, though, also reveal that readers of FSB have a major interest in environmental issues, as is revealed by our Glacier National Park post and our post “Turning Useless Lawn into Vital Habitat.” We take great satisfaction in that because one of the main reasons we write FSB is to help increase awareness of the environmental plight of our planet—and birds in particular—and what we can all do to improve the situation. Planting native plants in our yards is an especially simple, effective approach to increasing vital habitat that birds and their prey depend on. We’re happy that so many people took time to read our post on this topic.

Enthusiasm for our post on the dry hot winter of 2024 revealed a strong interest in the environment among FSB readers. Good job, readers!

But the year is only a little about statistics. Braden and I both had wonderful birding adventures in 2024. Thanks to his semester abroad in Costa Rica, Braden saw a remarkable 736 species of birds in 2024. More important, he got dozens of other young people into birding by starting the wildly successful UMaine Birding Club. The club did all kinds of fun activities, from leading dozens of birding outings to hosting movie nights and launching a project to reduce bird strikes on the UMaine campus building windows. Braden and I also finally got to take the eastern Montana birding safari of our dreams, spending two weeks exploring corners of the state we’d never before visited.

Braden’s adventure-packed semester in Costa Rica led him to see a remarkable 736 species of birds for 2024.

I had my own birding adventures including my wife’s and my trip to Barcelona last February, where I picked up a dozen species for my life list and had a whole lot of fun with Amy. I had two great trips to California: one to show my youngest, Tessa, a couple of potential colleges for next year; the second a great Bay Area trip to visit family and friends, including four fab days of birding with my childhood buddy, Scott. Work travel gave me additional opportunities to bird in Oregon, Washington, and throughout Montana. The highlight of the end of my year was getting to bird Cape Cod with Braden during Thanksgiving Week. I am also elated that my newest book, Birding for Boomers, is off to such a great start, reaching #8 the Pacific Northwest Booksellers Association bestseller’s list for nonfiction paperback books!

Thanks to the year’s second trip to California, I got to spend more time than usual with friends—and coastal birds such as this Black Turnstone.

As usual, Braden and I have only vague ideas where 2025 will take us and what we will be moved to write about. A few destinations in the mix: Indonesia, Vancouver Island, Texas. Whatever adventures we have and end up writing about, we deeply appreciate all of you for checking in and taking an interest in the coolest group of critters on earth. We also appreciate you supporting our work by buying our books and sharing FSB with your friends, family, and colleagues.

Until next year, Happy New Year, and may 2025 bring you joy, satisfaction, closer connections and, of course, a whole lotta birds!

Sneed & Braden

Birding Race Point: Cape Cod’s Pelagic Playground

The week before Thanksgiving, my family had the opportunity to visit a place that featured prominently in my childhood—Cape Cod, Massachusetts. We headed to Boston so that I could accept a big award for my picture book, Border Crossings, but the trip provided many piggybacking opportunities. These included a chance to look at colleges for Braden’s sister, Tessa, and to meet up with Braden for Thanksgiving. After Amy, Tessa, and I spent a few days in Boston, in fact, Braden drove down from the University of Maine and whisked us off to the Cape.

I spent parts of many summers in Woods Hole on the Cape. My father did his post-doc at WHOI—the Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution. My step-father spent dozens of summers in Woods Hole doing research and teaching classes at the MBL—the Marine Biological Laboratories. I have many fond (and some not-so-fond) memories of those summers, but had not been back for (gasp) 45 years! I looked forward to revisiting old haunts and showing my family some of the places that had shaped my childhood. Naturally, Braden and I also considered the birding possibilities.

Race Point Lighthouse.

When Braden first mentioned going to Race Point near Provincetown, I hesitated. I recalled driving up there as a ten-year-old and didn’t relish spending an extra four hours of our vacation in a car. When Braden started telling me what we might find there, however, I quickly changed my mind.

Race Point, it turns out, is one of the nation’s premiere places for spotting seabirds from land. A map reveals an obvious reason: Cape Cod juts miles out into the Atlantic Ocean, and the tip—Race Point itself—is surrounded on three sides by the sea. This means that birders have an opportunity to see both regular beach-type birds and many species that only rarely show up near land. Braden and I especially hoped to see jaegers, “tube noses” such as shearwaters, and any interesting gulls or ducks that happened to be around.

After a delicious breakfast at Liz’s Café in Provincetown, Braden and I left Amy and Tessa to explore while we headed off to the parking lot near Race Point lighthouse. As soon as we approached the beach, we spotted Northern Gannets soaring above wild, wind-raked seas. I’d only ever gotten a brief look at a NOGA before, when Braden and I had visited Acadia National Park three years before, so right away the drive up to Provincetown redeemed itself!

However, the excitement was just beginning.

One of perhaps 150 Northern Gannets we saw at Race Point. Like Blue-footed Boobies, these birds torpedo straight down into schools of fish.

As wind and sand pelted us, groups of White-winged and Black Scoters, Common Eiders, and Long-tailed Ducks skimmed the waves just offshore. Some occasionally landed, but most seemed hell-bent for destinations only they knew about. All were birds I had scant experience with, so I soaked up every sighting.

This was only my second time seeing Common Eiders, and I was uber impressed by the coloration of both females and males.

“There’s a Red-throated Loon!” Braden said, pointing to a bird with an exceedingly pale, long neck reaching up from the surface. It wouldn’t be long before we saw several Common Loons, differentiated by blockier heads, chunkier bills, and more black on their faces.

Only my second Red-throated Loon ever. Note the smooth, rounded head and white “winter” face.

At the top of our To Find list were Great Shearwaters, a potential Lifer for both of us. These birds belong to the “tube noses,” the same group of birds that includes albatrosses, fulmars, and storm-petrels. These birds are truly seafarers, rarely approaching shore. Only a few weeks ago, I had caught a glimpse of Sooty Shearwaters while visiting California’s Point Reyes National Park with my friend Scott. Great Shearwaters had been sighted regularly at Race Point for the past couple of weeks, but alas, we arrived too late to see them today.

Braden fruitlessly searching the seas for Great Shearwaters and jaegers.

We still had plenty of thrilling birds to look at, however. As we trudged the mile and a half through the soft sand toward the very tip of the Cape, flocks of Dunlin and Sanderlings in their winter plumages worked the drifts of foam left on the beach by each encroaching wave. We even saw a group of six Horned Larks, birds we were used to seeing on the backroads of Montana—not here at the end of the world.

It had been years since I’d gotten to hang with Dunlins, and it was a real treat.

Not to be outdone, gulls also put on a show. This was the first time I’d ever gotten to see Great Black-backed Gulls in a natural setting. They are the world’s largest gulls, and I gotta say they looked like they belonged in this rugged, challenging environment.

“Look!” Braden suddenly shouted. “Iceland Gull!” Two of them, in fact. These gulls had until recently been split into Iceland and Thayer’s Gull, and Braden and I had seen the latter at the Helena landfill in Montana. This look was much more memorable as both a juvenile and adult landed near us. Both were gorgeous birds with subtle markings, and they quickly jumped into contention for Bird of the Day honors. Not long after seeing the Iceland Gulls, Braden also spotted a Black-legged Kittiwake. I was grateful he’d gained experience with all of these birds while on the East Coast, because I certainly would have missed a lot of them.

I don’t even want to know what this Great Black-backed Gull is eating, as our two Iceland Gulls look on.

I picked up two Lifers for the day. One was Razorbill, a kind of black-and-white alcid I had dreamed about seeing for years (see our post “All About Alcids”). During our hike to the lighthouse and back, we saw about eighty of these birds in groups, flying low or bobbing up and down in the jagged waves. My second Lifer was a pair of Purple Sandpipers that landed in front of us and shouldn’t have been anywhere near a wide sandy beach. Like its closely-related West Coast cousin the Rock Sandpiper, these are rocky shore birds.

I was especially thrilled to see my Lifer Razorbills, but it’s a tossup whether these or the Iceland Gulls grabbed Bird of the Day honors.

“They must be migrating,” I said, and Braden agreed, though we were well within their wintering latitudes.

As we trudged back toward the car, Braden spotted a fin jutting out of the water. At first we thought it might be the dorsal fin of a shark or orca, but after watching it for a few minutes, we concluded that we were looking at the tail flukes of a larger whale. I’d seen quite a few humpback whales before, and these didn’t look anything like it. “I think it’s a Right Whale,” I said. Later, we learned that Right Whales had been regularly spotted in the area. It was one more unforgettable discovery for a memorable day.

Race Point eBird Checklist: https://ebird.org/checklist/S203601766

Race Point selfie!

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.

Abbotts Lagoon, Point Reyes National Seashore (or Chasing Migrants, Part II)

After our amazing encounter with Vaux’s Swifts and shorebirds (see our last post), Scott and I had another productive session the next morning at the Ellis Creek water recycling facility and Tubbs Island, both in Sonoma County. As an added bonus, we got to bird with two of Scott’s pals, Steve and Sean. Steve and Scott began birding about the same time and were still in the beginning phases of their birding careers, but Sean grew up birding and taught us all some cool ID features. Most important, he confirmed that the peeps Scott and I saw the day before were indeed Least Sandpipers. With his help, we were also able to identify a couple of sneaky Western Sandpipers that were comingling with the approximately 400 Least Sandpipers in front of us. As much as we enjoyed these sessions, what Scott, Steve, and I looked forward to the next day even more. That’s when we planned to bird legendary Abbotts Lagoon.

(L to R) Sean, Steve, and Scott investigating the wilds of the Ellis Water recyling plant!

Abbotts Lagoon sits within Point Reyes National Seashore, and none of us had ever before birded it. However, Braden and our occasional guest contributor, Roger Kohn, had both been there and given it high marks. As we crested the mountains at Point Reyes and drove down toward the coast, I didn’t know what we would find, but held my hopes high.

Reaching the beginning of the lagoon requires a mile or so hike through remarkable dwarf-like vegetation that reminded me of steppe or tundra, probably because fog enshrouded the lands around us. I hadn’t realized we would have to hoof it so far, but I was grateful because we got great looks at many California residents: California Quail, California Scrub-Jays, White-crowned Sparrows, and most exciting, Wrentits. One of these, in fact, popped up no more than fifteen feet from us—unusual for a generally secretive bird. Nontheless, it was the lagoon and beach beyond that propelled us forward and when we reached the lagoon we found . . .

Though a bit of a hike, the mile-long walk to the lagoon offered a nice variety of songbirds and raptors, including this banded White-crowned Sparrow.

Nothing.

Well, almost. Instead of vast rafts of shorebirds ripping up the mud, only a couple of wading birds and American White Pelicans could be made out as far as the eye could see. Darn, I thought to myself. But if there’s an, ahem, cardinal rule to birding it is this: You Never Know. So we plowed ahead, following the harder beach sand, and soon came to a little bend where we got great close-ups of three Red-necked Phalaropes and a Pectoral Sandpiper—a bird I recognized only from my hours studying them in Montana. This bird, in fact, was quite interesting because PESAs show up only in small numbers on the West Coast, and generally only in fall. A lifer for Scott and Steve!

Continuing toward the ocean, we spotted two Black-bellied Plovers and a flight of shorebirds in the distance, but it wasn’t until we reached the ocean that we got some real action.

I was just as excited by pelagic bird possibilities as I was by shorebirds, and once on the beach I immediately set up the spotting scope we’d lugged the two miles out there. Like shorbs, I rarely have a chance to observe pelagic birds, and I felt determined to make the most of this rare opportunity. Right away, I saw a number of dark shapes out on the water—shapes that appeared and disappeared on the four-foot swell. Oh man, I thought to myself, I’m never going to be able to figure out what those are. In such situations, I have learned to relax and just hang in there, and that’s what I did now.

From studying before the trip, I came up with several likely possibilities of species that could be out there. These included Common Murres, Pigeon Guillemots, various storm-petrels, and Sooty Shearwaters. In fact, as we arrived, I noticed at least eight medium-sized dark birds swooping low over the water. When they turned, I spotted light patches under the wings. First victory: Sooty Shearwaters.

Then, I saw a larger bird floating a couple of hundred yards offshore. The shape shouted “Loon” and I thought, “Hm, that looks like it has a silvery sheen on its head.” Victory #2: Pacific Loon!

Identifying pelagic birds at great distance can take great patience and not a little skill, but in time, many species reveal themselves. The keys to this Pacific Loon? A silvery sheen on its head, a thinner bill than found on Common Loons, and a thin black “chin strap” or collar around the neck.

After that, it got harder, but I did manage to ID some distant Common Murres by the white around the face and neck, thinner “up-pointed” bills, and longer body lengths. A seabird expert undoubtedly would have found additional species, but as a seabird novice, I felt satisfied. Humorously, as I was looking through the scope, I suddenly saw a whale’s tail emerge behind several of the birds. Did I look up? Of course not! Who has time for pesky mammals when there are ocean birds to be seen!

But let us not ignore the beach itself. As Scott, Steve, and I enjoyed the waves and emerging sun, the shorebirds decided to put on a show. On one side of us, a flock of at least 150 Least Sandpipers landed only a hundred yards away. On the other side, a couple of hundred Western Sandpipers settled down. Talk about your perfect conditions for comparison! In fact, this was my first chance ever to get good, leisurely looks at Westerns and I took full advantage of it.

The beach at Abbotts Lagoon offered by far my best opportunity ever to study Western Sandpipers. Note (if you can) the overall pale appearance and the reddish “shoulder blades” typical of juveniles this time of year. WESAs also tend to have longer, more curved bills than other peeps.

You remember that Sesame Street song “One of these things is not like the other?” Studying the Least Sandpipers, I spotted a much paler bird with a thick black bill and black legs. Another peep: Sanderling!

Meanwhile, among the Western Sandpipers, I espied smaller birds with shorter bills and dark collars around their necks—Semipalmated Plovers!

I was especially tickled to find half a dozen Semipalmated Plovers among the Western Sandpipers. Go plovers!

To add to the show, a Peregrine Falcon landed on the sand behind us, and on the way back we saw several other raptors including a White-tailed Kite. After Abbotts, we got a delicious lunch at Inverness Park Market, and then headed to Limantour Beach for great looks at Surf Scoters. All in all, it was an awesome day chasing migrants, featuring good birds, good food, and best of all, great company.

Trip Report: https://ebird.org/tripreport/276917

Compared to the Abbotts Lagoon Beach, Limantour Beach was a bit of a desert, but did offer up three nice Surf Scoters.