Category Archives: Shorebirds

Meditating with Loons: Spontaneous Birding Spectacular, Part II

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

4 Replies

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Birding Barcelona, Part 2: In Search of the Greater Flamingo

4 Replies

Braden and I write FatherSonBirding in the hopes of sharing the wonders of birds and birding, and the urgency to protect them. We do not accept advertising or donations, but if you’d like to support our work, please consider buying *NEW* copies of some of Sneed’s books—First-Time Japan, for instance, or my recent Orbis Pictus Award winner, Border Crossings. We appreciate your interest and hope you will keep reading!

When birding big cities I’ve discovered that it often requires a bit of extra effort to reach even a highly modified natural area. That proved true last year when my daughter and I visited Japan (see “Birding Japan: Kanazawa”), and it once again proved to be the case when my wife and I recently visited Barcelona. After birding city parks and tourist sites all week, I had barely breached 30 bird species total—far short of my goal of 50 or 60 species (see “Birding Barcelona, Part 1: The Urban Core”). I had a plan to help rectify the situation—but it was going to take that extra bit of effort to realize it.

On the last full day of our trip, I rose early, wolfed down some yoghurt, and hailed a cab in front of our hotel. In my mediocre Spanish, I explained to Isabella, my driver, where I wanted to go and even showed her the place on Google Maps. She knew about the area and had even been there, so we set out toward the airport in a light drizzle.

When visiting Barcelona, the best chance for a birder to enjoy some natural habitat—and an abundance of birds—is to take a taxi out to the Espais Naturals del Delta del Llobregat near the Barcelona Airport.

My destination was the “Espais Naturals del Delta del Llobregat,” which I’ll just call “Llobregat” for simplicity. Llobregat was a wetland divided into two parts, one on either side of the Barcelona airport, and the reason it existed at all was no doubt due to the fact that you can’t build huge buildings where giant aircraft can run into them. I thank the travel gods for that because these wetlands were the only orange-colored (high species count) hotspots anywhere near the city of Barcelona.

I asked Isabella to drop me off at the area on the far (western) side of the airport, and twenty minutes later found myself standing utterly alone on a road that appeared to lead into the natural area. Turns out, Isabella could have driven me another mile closer to the main action, but that error turned out to be a good thing. As I walked down the road, I began hearing all kinds of bird vocalizations and soon Merlin’s Sound ID picked up a new lifer for me, Cetti’s Warbler, calling from the thick reeds on both sides of the road. Sound ID also picked up Green Sandpiper, which got me really excited because shorebirds were at the top of my list to see on this, my sole real birding outing, of the trip. As I walked, I also saw what would be my only raptors of the trip—three Western Marsh-Harriers—and some high-flying swallow-type birds that turned out to be Eurasian Crag-Martins. I got occasional glimpses at a canal to my left, but saw only Mallards, a pair of Gadwalls, and a Gray Heron in it.

Half an hour later, I arrived at Llobregat’s official entrance and was relieved to see a series of established trails that led to various bird blinds around the reserve. As I followed the first trail, Common Chiffchaffs, Black Redstarts, European Robins, European Serins, and White Wagtails hopped and fluttered around me, but my excitement didn’t spike until I entered the first birding blind.

**I had worried that I might miss Greater Flamingos in Spain, but a couple of dozen greeted me at Llobregat. Note how pale they are. Evidently, they are not getting enough crustaceans in their diets!**

It took me about five seconds to locate the birds I most wanted to see—Greater Flamingos. But they just formed the tasty appetizer to the huge variety of waterfowl before me. This included many familiar ducks familiar from back home: Northern Shovelers, Gadwalls, Mallards, and the Eurasian variety of Green-winged Teal (which may eventually get split into a new species).

I just love the unique looks of Eurasia’s Green-winged Teals, which have a distinctively different appearance than our North American versions. I hope the taxonomic splitters pounce on them and declare them a distinct species.

The ducks that really got me going, though, were new for my life list: Common Shelducks and a pair of Red-crested Pochards that was doing its best to avoid eye contact on a distant island! I had hoped to see both of these, but had tempered my expectations. No worries—there they were, and in company of a lone Eurasian Wigeon.

Ka-ching! **Life Bird #1007!** **Common Shelduck in the company of a pretty fetching Mallard!**

As I sat enjoying the duck show, I also noted Eurasian Coots and Moorhens, along with a delightful pair of Little Grebes, all of which I had seen in Japan almost a year earlier. As I scanned the pond, I also saw something quickly dive into the reeds at the edge of the pond. I strongly suspect that this was a Water Rail, but reacted just a moment too slow to get my binoculars on it.

If you look at this photo carefully, you will see a number of charismatic Spanish species: Graylag Goose, Eurasian Wigeon, and my lifer Red-crested Pochards. The latter two are reported infrequently this time of year.

After about thirty minutes, I continued onto another viewing area. On the way, I passed a plywood wall with a few viewing windows cut into it and happened to take a quick peek. A largish purplish bird stuck out and my first thought was “Eurasian Moorhen.” Then, I did a double-take. “Hold on. Moorhens aren’t that blue—nor do they have bright red bills and legs!” The bird before me was one I had been studying on eBird quizzes, but darned if I could remember the name of it. Scrolling through eBird, I quickly found it: Western Swamphen! Even better, it had two adorable fuzzy black chicks with it!

I had not expected to see such a bird in my wildest dreams and it didn’t stay visible for long—just long enough for me to take a couple of modest photos—before disappearing into the reeds. And that, apparently, is typical for this bird, a species that rarely makes an appearance even where it might be fairly common. It immediately leaped to the top of my Trip Bird list, where it would remain for the rest of our vacation and beyond.

**Earning Bird of the Trip honors, this rare sighting of a Western Swamphen put a lasting grin on my face. That black “shadow” to its left is actually one of two chicks accompanying it.**

After more bird blind fun, I walked out to the beach in the hopes of seeing shorebirds. No dice. In fact, I didn’t see a single shorebird my entire morning, one of the trip’s big disappointments. I asked the interpreter about it and he confirmed that there hadn’t been many shorebirds around the entire year. Alas, I later discovered that the other section of the wetlands, on the east side of the airport, had been getting some. Nonetheless, I sat down on a jetty, breathed in the salt air of the Mediterranean, and enjoyed some bread and cheese while watching the giant jets taking off to almost every continent in the world. Then, I began making my way back down the long access road, happy with the day despite the shorebird miss.

My morning at Llobregat nabbed me 33 species—as many as I’d seen in the previous five days in Barcelona. It pushed my world life list to 1011 species. It also pushed my trip list to 49 species—one short of my goal of 50 species. “Shoot,” I thought, riding a taxi back downtown. “Where can I go near our hotel to pick up one more species?” I hadn’t a clue, and quietly resigned myself to this epic failure that would mar my reputation and confidence the rest of my life and cast shame upon my friends and family.

**More Flamingo fun. These birds sat atop my list of birds I wanted to see in Barcelona and at Llobregat, they did not disappoint.**

That evening, Amy—who had spent the day shopping and visiting the Picasso Museum—and I decided to take a walk before our last Barcelona supper. She hadn’t yet visited Parc de la Ciutadella (see my previous post “Birding Barcelona, Part 1: The Urban Core”), so we strolled over there. We reached the pond where they rented rowboats and decided to go for it. I handed over six Euros and we climbed in, joining a huge assortment of merry locals and tourists. Black-headed and Yellow-legged Gulls, Graylag Geese, Gray Herons, and Mallards surrounded us. Monk and Rose-ringed Parakeets squawked overhead. I smiled. This was a perfect way to wrap up the trip.

Then, I spotted a small bird sally out from the edge of the pond and return to land on a rock. From similar sightings in Taiwan, Israel, and Japan, I knew immediately what it was. “Gray Wagtail!” I exclaimed! Just as in Japan, it was the only GRWA I had seen, and it pushed my trip list to 50 species.

I swear, you can’t make this guano up.

**Ciutadella’s popular rowing pond—and site of the trip’s sole Gray Wagtail.**

From One Nemesis Bird to Another

2 Replies

Before sharing my recent search for nemesis birds, a quick update on our last post, “Welcoming White-crowned Sparrows—with Observer Bias”. In the post, I discussed how the apparent abundance of White-crowned Sparrows coming through western Montana this year may have to do more with my birding effort than actual sparrow numbers. Well, after I published the post, several birders around the state shared that they also have been seeing unusually high numbers of White-crowneds. This greater “sample size” of observations leads me to believe that the birds might be having an exceptional year after all. Go White-crowneds! This last Monday, in fact, I saw another WCSP feeding with some American Goldfinches. Will it be my last observation of the season?

**There’s not many better things in life than birding in the Mission Valley on a glorious fall day—even when nemesis birds are eluding you!**

In recent posts, I have shared my foiled attempts at finding one of my biggest nemesis birds, Spruce Grouse. Here in Montana, I have started to become known as “The guy who’s never seen a Spruce Grouse.” It’s not my favorite moniker, but well, I am learning to live with it. To distract me from my shame, last week I decided to look for a different nemesis bird: American Golden-Plover.

Arguably one of America’s most stunning birds during breeding season, the AGPL has thwarted Braden and me here in Montana at least a dozen times. Every year, birders spot the plovers up in the Mission Valley north of us, and countless times we have saddled our trusty minivan and galloped up to Ninepipe National Wildlife Refuge or Pablo Reservoir—only to find no American Golden-Plovers in sight. Braden did finally find one in Maine a couple of years ago (see his post “A Montana Nemesis Bird in Maine”), but the arrival of 2023 still saw the absence of this marquis bird on my Life List, let alone my or Braden’s Montana lists. This has obviously caused us great pain and anguish, so when I saw that someone had observed six, count ‘em SIX, American Golden-Plovers up at Ninepipe last week, I had to seriously ask myself if I wanted to put myself through yet more misery.

My answer, with Braden’s encouragement: Yes.

**The second of two Peregrine Falcons I would see this day. Definitely PEFA migration season!**

As a result, last Thursday, I woke early, walked Lola, and then headed north on 93. My first stop? Ninepipe. I usually begin my explorations here with a drive down Duck Road, but today I was a man on a mission, so I entered at the bottom end of the refuge. Almost immediately, I spotted small shorebirds at the edge of a pond and pulled over to get out my spotting scope. Before I could get my eyes on them, though, a large dark shape swooped in and the shorebirds frantically flung themselves into the sky. Peregrine Falcon! my mind shouted as I excitedly watched the raptor give chase. The falcon and shorebirds circled the pond twice, but then fled toward the horizon. I had failed to get a look at the shorbs, but seeing a Peregrine was a thrilling start to the day!

**They weren’t the plovers I was looking for, but it’s always, ahem, great to see Greater Yellowlegs in Montana.**

After climbing back into the car, I continued to wind my way north, getting glances at Trumpeter Swans and several kinds of ducks. I also got great looks at a trio of American Pipits on the road. My major destination, though, was the dam on the west side of the main lake. There, I observed several Greater Yellowlegs and, driving a bit farther, a couple of other shorebirds on the muddy shore below. I quickly parked and began breaking out my spotting scope when a car pulled up containing yet another impressive trio: accomplished Montana birders Craig Hohenberger, Shawn Richmond, and Braydon Luikart! I had last met Craig all the way out in Westby this past summer so it was a nice surprise to see him here again now, and to chat with all of them.

“Are you the one who is trying to find the Spruce Grouse?” Shawn asked.

“Well, uh, yeah,” I sheepishly replied. “But today I’m looking for American Golden-Plovers.”

Shawn knows the Mission Valley like the back of her hand, and said, “They should be around.” She then gave me the name of a place she had seen them only in the past few days.

“Thanks,” I told her, “I’ll check that out.”

First, though, I wanted to scope the ground in front of me. To my surprise, the pair of shorebirds below me turned out to be Pectoral Sandpipers—Year Birds for me and, I suspect, what the Peregrine Falcon had been going after earlier. Again, though, no golden-plovers, so I packed up my scope and moved on.

**Still no golden-plovers, but it was great to see Pectoral Sandpipers for the first time this year.**

In a tradition Braden and I have followed since we began birding, I grabbed an egg biscuit at the McDonald’s in Ronan, and continued on to another well-known place for sighting AGPLs, Pablo Reservoir. Again, I began at the south end and slowly continued north on top of the dam. I was delighted to discover a pair of Baird’s Sandpipers scouring the shore in the company of half a dozen American Pipits. The gurgling calls of Sandhill Cranes ricocheted across the water as I looked out on hundreds of geese, ducks, gulls—and a lone American White Pelican. A dark shape perched on a little rock on the far mudflats, and I trained my scope on it with a strong suspicion. Yes! It was another Peregrine Falcon! I was definitely hitting migration season for those! As for the American Golden-Plovers???

Nada. Zilch. Klum.

**Though the golden-plovers again foiled me at Pablo Reservoir, I got my best look of the year at a couple of Baird’s Sandpipers!**

Normally, that would have been the end of my day—except for running into Shawn Richmond earlier. “I’m here,” I told myself. “I have plenty of iced tea. I might as well check out the spot she told me about.”

I punched up the location on Google Maps and it showed a 25-minute drive. Though an official hotspot, it definitely sat off the beaten path enough to receive fewer visitors. I parked behind an abandoned house of some sort and could see that viewing would be less than ideal. A lake lay several hundred meters away, but the near shore was obscured by vegetation while the far shore shimmered another couple of hundred meters beyond that. Nonetheless, even through my binoculars I could see that there were birds on that far shore. Even better, I felt pretty sure they were shorebirds!

I assembled my scope and began tromping across the field, hoping I wouldn’t scare any of the distant birds. I didn’t, but before I could get closer, a Northern Harrier did, and the birds on shore scattered before I had any hope of identifying them. I cursed at my luck, but then, amazingly . . . the birds came back! This spectacle, it turns out, would repeat itself quite a few times during my short visit.

**A Northern Harrier kept stirring up the shorebirds as I was trying to ID them. Don’t tell the shorebirds, but I think the harrier had its sights on other prey!**

I got my scope focused and picked out about a dozen each Greater Yellowlegs, Killdeer, and Pectoral Sandpipers—but they weren’t what got my heart beating. Among the other birds, I also saw three distinct shapes. Plover shapes. Large plover shapes. Zeroing in on them, I got even more excited. They definitely could be what I was looking for!

One problem with finding American Golden-Plovers is that in nonbreeding plumage, they are challenging to distinguish from Black-bellied Plovers. That’s not as much of a problem when Black-bellieds are in breeding plumage as they were here when Braden and I visited Benton Lake NWR near Great Falls last summer.

The problem is this: the plovers were not breeding males. Instead, they were in their much drabber juvenile or nonbreeding plumage, and that meant that they possibly could be either Black-bellied Plovers or American Golden-Plovers. I had seen nonbreeding Black-bellied Plovers several times—but didn’t have enough experience with them to say, “Those are NOT Black-bellied Plovers out there in front of me.” Still, thinking back on prior experiences, and studying my Sibley phone app, I had a hunch these might just be my nemesis Amercian Golden-Plovers. For one thing, their bodies and necks seemed slimmer than Black-bellied Plovers. They also gave off a kind of smooth, grayish sheen on their bellies whereas I remembered BBPLs as being whiter and more distinct.

**It looked like an American Golden-Plover, but was it??? I would have to wait to hear from Braden to be sure!**

Bottom line: I just wasn’t sure.

I took tons of lousy photos, and as soon as I got home, sent them to Braden. A couple of hours later, he called me from Maine. “Daddy!” he exclaimed. “You saw American Golden-Plovers!” We then proceeded to detail the various aspects of his ID. Not only was it a great learning process, it felt good to be able to share this nemesis sighting with my son from all the way across the continent. AGPL, finally, after many years, became my 301^st Montana Life Bird and the 997^th on my Life List.

I’ll bet you can guess what I hope number 998 will be!

Birding with the President

4 Replies

One of the fun parts of being a birder and a writer is being invited to speak to other groups of birders. This often entails travel to fun new locations and the opportunity to meet many wonderful people. Earlier this week, I had one such exceptional experience when I was invited to go birding with the President . . . of the Flathead Audubon Society.

Oh, did the title of this blog lead you to believe I got to bird with President Joe Biden? If so, I had no intention of misleading you. But no offense to Joe, I probably had much more fun birding with Flathead Audubon’s president, Darcy Thomas, and her husband, Rob. Flathead Audubon is one of the most active Montana Audubon chapters, serving both as a focal point for birders and bird science and conservation in northwest Montana. It has been involved in a number of invaluable projects including the Jewel Basin Hawk Watch and vital conservation and education projects in and around Kalispell. As the chapter’s new president, Darcy is employing her great energy and enthusiasm to keeping the group flying forward. (Find out more by visiting https://flatheadaudubon.org/.)

**La Presidente, herself: Darcy Thomas of the Flathead Audubon Society.**

Darcy and I had planned for me to speak to her chapter members Monday night, so I rose early that day and headed toward Kalispell to sneak in a day of birding with Darcy before my talk. My expectations were rather low as many species had already migrated through Montana, and high water in lakes and ponds made shorebirds unlikely. Still, I welcomed the chance to bird with Darcy on her own turf, and maybe learn some great new places to visit in the Kalispell area.

**Although I arrived at Duck Road with low expectations, the Savannah Sparrows put on a sparrow show like I had never experienced.**

On my drive up, I decided to make a quick stop at Duck Road just above Ninepipe National Wildlife Refuge. Over the years, this rural gravel road has been one of Braden’s and my favorite places to bird. We’ve observed about 100 species there including Sandhill Cranes, the occasional shorebird, and tons of raptors including my personal favorite, Short-eared Owls (see our post “250 Montana Birds or Bust!”). Today, the first thing I noticed were sparrows flitting everywhere. We usually get a few here, but today I seemed to pass a mini-flock every couple hundred yards. I pulled over for a closer look and discovered that they were Savannah Sparrows, obviously in mega-migration numbers. Driving about five miles, I counted more than 200 of these delightful critters. I also was surprised to hear a pair of Sandhill Cranes in the distance along with a Western Meadowlark enjoying our late warm weather. Rounding out the list: a Lesser Yellowlegs, an American Pipit, and a pair of especially charismatic Northern Harriers.

Northern Harriers rarely perch for a snapshot, but this beauty gave me a few seconds to record just how gorgeous they are. Note the “dish” or “cup” around the eye. Like many owls, Northern Harriers often hunt by sound, and the dishes help focus the tiniest sounds to the birds’ ears as they patrol fields and marshes.

I rendezvoused with Darcy in Somers, famous for being where Braden and I saw both our Lifer Snowy Owl (see our post “A Quest for Snowy Owls”) and Lifer Gyrfalcon (see our post “Payin’ Raptor Dues, Reapin’ Raptor Rewards”). I had told Darcy I was especially keen on finding shorebirds, and we hit one spot only to find it completely dry. Next, however, Darcy took me to Split Pond, where I picked up my first Horned Grebe of the Year. After that, we took scenic backroads over to Creston Wetlands, where birders had recently seen an extremely rare Montana visitor, a Hudsonian Godwit. Alas, the godwit had moved on, but the best part of our day was yet to come . . .

**Once again, if only eBird had a place to record mammals, this rare pygmy hippo sighting would have helped make Darcy and me famous!**

After collecting my trusty minivan, I followed Darcy back to her house, where her husband Rob had made us the perfect snack—tuna sliders! That fortified the three of us as Rob drove us to a Kalispell hotspot I’d always wanted to visit, the West Valley Ponds. About half a dozen ponds actually fill the area, but the road passes three major ones, and the first thing I learned is that in fall, the place becomes Sandhill Crane Central! Darcy told me that up to 500 or more cranes gather here to feed up on grain dropped in the surrounding farmers’ fields before they migrate south. At first, we saw only a handful, but the more we focused, the more cranes we saw! It was a real treat, and by far the most Sandhill Cranes I’d ever seen in one place in Montana.

**As we kept sharpening our focus, Sandhill Cranes seemed to appear everywhere in and around West Valley Ponds.**

Ducks are tough these days as they are in their generic “intermolt plumage”, but we managed to ID all three teals and American Wigeons, along with a quartet of Trumpeter Swans. As we were rounding a curve, though, I said, “Stop. Stop. Stop”, and as Rob pulled up, Darcy and I got our binoculars on a small bird wagging its tail and playing in a nearby puddle. “American Pipit!” I exclaimed. Though I’d seen one earlier in the day at Ninepipe, that had been at a distance, and I never get enough of these birds. They breed up in high alpine meadows and, in fact, Braden and I had seen my first high-altitude pipit at Logan Pass only a month ago. It was nice to see one down in the valley before it begins its fall migration to Arizona, Mexico, or even farther south.

I wondered if I would see an American Pipit today—and was not disappointed. The birds are gracing our lowlands as they migrate from their high-altitude breeding sites to their overwintering grounds farther south. **This was my first of two for the day, on Duck Road.**

Darcy and Rob saved the best for last. As we pulled up to the final pond, we climbed out to admire a mix of waterfowl and a flock of about 300 Red-winged and (at least) 4 Yellow-headed Blackbirds in a large bunch of cattails. Suddenly, a dark streak caught the corner of my eye. “Falcon!” I yelled and the three of us watched enthralled as the bird shot straight toward the cattails. All 300 of the blackbirds frantically took flight, some in the same direction the falcon was flying. We saw the falcon twist and turn trying to nab one, but at least this time, the blackbirds got the better of it.

**West Valley Ponds are one of the Kalispell area’s most productive and scenic places to bird—but today, they were also the site of a daring Peregrine Falcon attack!**

By this time you’re probably asking, But what kind of falcon was it? Often, I am unsure in these situations. Falcons appear and fly off so quickly that it’s sometimes difficult to get any kind of look. Darcy and I agreed, however, that this bird’s dark slate wings, large size, and powerful flight left no doubt that it was a Peregrine—my 237^th Montana bird for 2023. It was a great way to wrap my birding afternoon with the President, and provided a perfect prelude to my evening visit with the fun folks at Flathead Audubon.