Category Archives: Spring Migration

In Search of the Green-tailed Towhee

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Confession: Despite the title of this blog, the the main purpose of last weekend was not to find Green-tailed Towhees; it was to learn about a wonderful study of Gray Flycatchers with biologists Jeff Marks and Nate Kohler. However, as I set out Saturday morning, defiant of the grim weather forecast for the next day, I did have a secondary mission in mind—to find and visit with some of the birds in the arid southwest corner of the state. Over the years, these sagebrush areas, from Bear Canyon (see Bear Canyon—Montana’s “Tropical Birding” Paradise) all the way west to Beaverhead County, had become some of my favorite parts of Montana. I credit that partly to my own childhood living in the dry chaparral country of southern California, but I also just love the ecosystems and birds in this part of Montana. I’d have trouble calling myself a real birder if I didn’t get down there at least once each year.

Since you’re pressing me on the issue, I also had a third objective for this trip—to move closer to breaking my all-time one-year species record. The record belonged to 2017, when our family traveled to Ecuador and Peru and I recorded a total of 527 species for the year. This year, thanks to last-minute invitations to Colombia (see THIS POST) and Texas (see THAT POST) I unexpectedly found myself at 498 species—perilously close to setting a new record. That task loomed more difficult than it might appear since once spring migration has passed and breeding season gets underway, it becomes much more difficult to find new species. Still, a trip to the southwest part of Montana promised to nudge me closer to this new goal, and my first target was one of the state’s coolest birds: Green-tailed Towhee.

**On Braden’s advice, my first real birding stops of the trip were along the Jefferson River before Lewis & Clark Caverns.**

Green-tailed Towhees winter in the American Southwest and Mexico, but generally breed in the the Great Basin region of the West, including southern Montana. Though the birds are not strictly rare, I could count the number of times I had ever seen one, and I felt eager for another GTTO encounter. To find this bizarre, poorly understood beauty, I hit I-90 at dawn and steered toward Lewis and Clark Caverns, two-and-a-half hours to the east. To entertain me along the way, I had checked out an audio version of Eat, Pray, Love, a book that invites all kinds of snarky comments but, I found, actually proved moderately amusing. On Braden’s advice, I pulled over alongside the road leading to the caverns and was rewarded with a wonderful assortment of river and cliff birds including Rock Wren, Lazuli Buntings, and White-throated Swifts. Once inside Lewis and Clark Caverns State Park itself, I focused on finding Green-tailed Towhees.

While Lewis & Clark Caverns did not give up its Green-tailed Towhees, I did get nice looks at a Rock Wren and Lark Sparrow.

I struck out. I spent a good hour and a half checking along the road, up around the main parking area, and in the campground. Merlin’s Sound ID picked up a putative GTTO song at one point, but I neither heard nor saw a trace of the bird.

I have to admit that this made me feel like a total failure. I mean, here was my first target bird of the trip, and one that shouldn’t be that hard to find, and I totally “whiffed” on it, as Braden might say. I didn’t plunge into despair exactly, but it definitely put a damper on my mood as I began questioning just what I thought I was doing out here pretending to be a birder! Well, I thought, maybe I’ll have better luck at my next destination.

Which happened to be Birch Creek Road north of Dillon in Beaverhead County. Several years before, Braden and I had found our lifer Thick-billed (formerly McCown’s) Longspur on this road, and once again, the road delivered. I’d driven only a mile before I saw a suspicious dark shape on a fence. I actually didn’t think it was a Thick-billed, but my binoculars revealed otherwise. “Yay!” I exclaimed, feeling the weight of my earlier “whiff” lifting slightly. A few minutes later, I was examining another TBLO when I noticed a large shape sitting in a field about one hundred yards away. “Clearly a hawk,” I thought, “but what kind?” The answer: the best kind, at least for my goals for the trip—a ferruginous hawk. This was another bird I needed for the year and one that isn’t always easy to find in the state.

A desperate flight photo of the Ferruginous Hawk as it flew away.

Digging out the peanut butter sandwich I’d made earlier, I tooled down I-15 for my next destination, Clark Canyon Reservoir. Braden and I had only ever birded here once before, and as near as I recall, we hadn’t found much, so I kept my expectations low. I stopped at one overlook and was surprised to see a Common Loon on the water below, along with a Double-crested Cormorant and a couple of Ring-billed Gulls. Violet-green swallows swirled around me and, as always, they brought a smile.

Snaking around the reservoir, I approached a sign for Horse Prairie Campground and spontaneously swerved left onto a dirt access road. The reason? Tall, healthy-looking sagebrush! Hm, this just might have one of my other target birds for the day. Almost immediately, I saw a really cool bird that had not been on my target list—a Common Nighthawk peacefully chillin’ on the split-rail fence. The bird barely blinked as I fired away with my camera through the car window from only thirty feet away.

**The first of three Common Nighthawks I spotted chilling on the wooden fence leading down to Horse Prairie Campground.**

Creeping slowly forward, I heard a song I didn’t recognize—which was no great surprise in itself, but I did have a guess of what it was. Sound ID confirmed it: Brewer’s Sparrow! This bird loves healthy sagebrush and makes up for the world’s dullest plumage with a vigorous song that bewitches any birdwatcher who hears it. A few moments later, one even sat still long enough for a decent photo. Check. Another target bird—but not the one I expected to find here!

**One of Montana’s drabbest birds, the Brewer’s Sparrow has an enchanting song.**

I kept driving slowly toward the campground and spotted a medium-sized, slender bird up ahead. Wishfully, I thought it might be a Say’s Phoebe—another bird I happened to need for my year list—but it flew off before I got close. As I pulled into the campground, though, two brownish birds were chasing each other around. I assumed they were robins, but when one landed on a “Day Use Only” sign, I realized with a start that it was exactly the bird I had hoped to find here—a Sage Thrasher!

**Sage Thrashers are so flighty that seeing one on a sign was about the last thing I expected!**

Braden and I have never met a thrasher we didn’t like, but Sage Thrashers hold a special place in our birding hearts. For one, they’re the world’s smallest thrashers—which is why I mistook them for robins or phoebes. For another, they are charismatic songsters and often are the most common bird you see in sage country. As I sat in the car, in fact, I counted three more Sage Thrashers around me. Whoo-Hoo!

**One of our favorite Montana birds, Sage Thrashers seemed to be everywhere I looked this afternoon.**

Later, on the road where I was to meet up with Jeff Marks and Nate Kohler, I encountered seven more Sage Thrashers! It was a veritable thrasher party—by far the best experience I had ever had with these good-looking birds.

Unfortunately, the next morning, heavy rain and spitting snow kept me from seeing Gray Flycatchers with Jeff and Nate. More on that in another post. Almost as bad, I began the drive home without a Green-tailed Towhee under my belt and no expectations of seeing one. But bless Nate Kohler’s heart. He told me about a canyon I should check out on the way home. It was still raining when I got there, but I drove slowly and stopped frequently, listening and watching. Lazuli Buntings chattered everywhere and I saw a good variety of birds—but no towhee. Finally, I put on my raincoat, got out of the car and played a Green-tailed Towhee song. Almost immediately, a small shape darted up out of the sagebrush—the bird I was looking for! Not only that, it held still long enough for a photo—but the story hadn’t quite finished.

**I worked hard for this Green-tailed Towhee—only to find that it wasn’t a year bird after all!**

Once I got home and posted all of my checklists for the trip, I was surprised that eBird hadn’t added GTTO to my year list. What’s going on? I thought, and did a quick search to see if I had somehow seen one down in Texas and forgotten about it. Nope. What I did forget was the rare vagrant GTTO I had seen in Victoria, BC during Amy’s and my January trip (see Birding Victoria, BC)! So this one was not a year bird after all, but still a lot of fun to see. Meanwhile, my year list swelled to 503 species thanks to the Thick-billed Longspur, Ferruginous Hawk, Brewer’s Sparrow, Sage Thrasher, and a Prairie Falcon I had spotted the afternoon before. Not exactly the trip I expected, but one I already cherished.

Hi-Line Report: Bad Weather Can Bring Good Birds

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Most serious Montana birders try to make it up to the Hi-Line every year. If you’ve never heard of the Hi-Line, it is the northern region of the state that basically follows Highway 2 from East Glacier National Park all the way to the North Dakota Border. It’s an area full of rolling hills, badlands, farms and ranches—and a whole lotta birds. For Braden and me, the region is best represented by the Bowdoin National Wildlife Refuge, a sprawling 15,551-acre refuge near Malta that encompasses a rich variety of wet and dry habitats. We don’t make it up to Bowdoin every year, but this year I was fortunate enough to get invited to visit a school in nearby Chinook. Even better, I timed the visit for spring migration and breeding. I booked an Airbnb in Malta and drove up two days early to give me a full day at Bowdoin. The bad news? The forecast called for rain.

Indeed, when I arrived at the refuge at 6:00 a.m., rain pelted the car, propelled by a cold wind. Geez, I thought. I’m not going to see anything today. It was so cold and wet that I skipped my usual stop at the visitor center and instead headed straight out onto the first, five-mile section of the fifteen-mile loop around the lake. I noted that water levels, although not great, were better than I’d seen them two years before, but the first five-mile section was a time to focus not on water birds, but on denizens of the grass. Normally, in fact, Braden and I spend the most time in this section, stopping frequently to listen for Grasshopper Sparrows, Baird’s Sparrows, Chestnut-collared Longspurs, and other grassland favorites (see our post “Great Grassland Birding”). Today, that proved impossible. Every time I opened the window, wind and rain cascaded in and made it almost impossible to hear calls beyond the heavy-metal songs of Western Meadowlarks.

**Steady rain and wind limited my ability to find grassland birds!**

Mercifully, a few species took pity on me. Right off the bat, I espied one of our favorite birds, a Bobolink—the only one I would see the entire trip. Then, I spotted a drenched Grasshopper Sparrow perched on a small bush—the lone GRSP I would see that day. Lark Buntings also put in an appearance, along with Horned Larks and Savannah Sparrows. I also was pleased to see shorebirds, but on this section of the drive, they were far away. At one point, I leaped out to set up the scope I was testing out (see our next post), but immediately got drenched and was unable to ID much except for Wilson’s Phalaropes, American Avocets, and a Willet.

**Lark Buntings were the most cooperative grassland birds I managed to see on this cold, wet, windy day. Thank you, Lark Buntings!**

As I kept driving, however, conditions steadily improved and I got better looks at shorebirds. The phalaropes were especially impressive and I estimated at least a thousand out on the water and working the shore. The vast majority were Wilson’s, but with patience, I found a group of four Red-necked Phalaropes—most clearly identified by their smaller size, overall darker appearance, and distinct light lines running down their dark backs. Ducks were not super abundant, but plentiful and I counted at least ten species, including my first-of-the-year Canvasbacks!

Twice, I drove down to some boat ramps and, despite the rain, nabbed a good “harvest” of shorebirds. I found about half a dozen Semipalmated Sandpipers and one Western Sandpiper. The real surprises, which I confirmed later with Braden’s help, were a Baird’s Sandpiper and a White-rumped Sandpiper! The latter was especially difficult to figure out because it didn’t readily show the diagnostic, thin lines of spots extending from the neck down to below the wings, but the overall appearance and body size fit. I was thrilled to find these birds as we’d never found them at Bowdoin before. Then again, we’d never birded Bowdoin this early in the season, so they were all part of my continuing Montana birding education.

**Both this Baird’s (left) and several Semipalmated Sandpipers (right) proved early season surprises on this cold, rainy Bowdoin day.** **The larger size, long wing tips extending beyond the tail, and “medallion” appearance on the wings help distinguish Baird’s from the smaller peeps.**

As I was leaving the second boat ramp, I noticed a Marbled Godwit in the parking area. Godwits, like Willets and Long-billed Curlews, are shorebirds and grassland birds. They nest in grasslands, usually near water, so seeing one here didn’t surprise me. I was about to drive off when the godwit suddenly launched itself. As I watched, it flew a hundred yards or so to the shore—and landed next to two birds I had especially hoped to see: Black-bellied Plovers! Loyal FSB readers will note that I’ve written about these fine birds a lot in the past couple of years (see, for instance, this post), and so it was with special pleasure I observed them now—and in their best black-bellied breeding plumage. Thank you, Mr. Godwit, for pointing them out!

**This helpful Marbled Godwit (right) made a special effort to point out two Black-bellied Plovers that I had so woefully overlooked!**

By the time I made it back to the visitor center, my stomach rumbled and, though the rain had slackened, the cold and wind remained. I debated whether I should even get out of the car to explore around the small pond there, but I knew that Braden would never forgive me if I didn’t. Marshaling my determination, I walked over to the start of the little path that circumscribes the pond. Almost immediately, a curious face popped up from behind a bush thirty feet away. “Whoa!” I whispered. At first, I thought it was a weasel, but it was much larger than the three or four weasels I’d observed in the past. Stoat? Ferret? I asked myself. Could it possibly be a mink? I’d never seen a mink and didn’t know if they even lived in Montana, but it seemed to fit the profile. Later, iNaturalist experts helped me confirm that that’s what it was. After looking at me for several moments, the long, bizarre-looking creature loped across the road and disappeared into the brush. The birds, however, were not to be outdone by a mere mammal!

**Seeing my lifer American Mink was about the last thing on my mind as I braved Bowdoin’s visitor center area for one last birding effort!**

As I began poking around the beginning of the trail, I saw shapes flitting about in the bushes. A brownish bird streaked by me giving off Swainson’s Thrush vibes, but I didn’t see it well enough to definitely identify it. Minutes later, a reddish-backed bird landed on a nearby branch below me—a Veery! Then I got a good look at another Swainson’s Thrush, this time confirming the ID. In the branches above it, an adorable little Least Flycatcher watched me, but none of these would be the stars of the show.

Empidonax flycatchers are notoriously difficult to identify by sight, but this bird’s “cute” appearance—and the fact that no other empids should have been anywhere in the area—helped clinch the ID.

Even through the wind, I could hear both Yellow Warblers and Common Yellowthroats around me, even if I couldn’t get clear looks at any of them. Then, a small songbird landed in a tree about thirty feet away. I got my binoculars up in time to recognize a species I had longed to see—a Blackpoll Warbler! Like the Swainson’s and Veery, the warbler was clearly in migration, on its way to northern breeding grounds in Canada and Alaska. Braden and I had found them three times before in Montana, but always females. Not only did a gorgeous, breeding plumage male now stare back at me, it was the first Blackpoll I had ever found on my own!

**As you can tell, the day proved tough for photography all-around, but I managed to get fuzzy ID photos of my Bird of the Trip, Blackpoll Warbler!**

You won’t be surprised to hear that the Blackpoll Warbler immediately secured Bird of the Trip honors. Even more, it cemented the notion that just because conditions are bad for birders, they can still be great for birds. In fact, storms often cause birds to hunker in place for a day or two—perhaps the reason I found some of the especially cool birds I found today. I plan to remind myself of that the next time I’m debating whether to venture out into the pelting wind and rain.

Graduation Birding Bonanza in Maine

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News Flash!

Braden graduates from the University of Maine!

Okay, we all felt confident that he would, but holy cow, where did the last four years go? After all, when we started FatherSonBirding (see our first post, “A Quest for Snowy Owls,”) Braden had just turned fifteen years old and was a mere freshman in high school. What he has accomplished in college has truly done him proud. He would no doubt say that his greatest achievement was to start the UMaine Birding Club and turn it into a powerhouse campus conservation, education, and social organization. As proud parents, however, Amy and I would point out that he also graduated with highest honors, made incredible friendships, spent a semester in Costa Rica (see post “A Glimpse of a Ghost”), got two articles published in top birding magazines, and amassed a Maine Life List of 231 bird species. Along the way, he has transformed himself into a compassionate, kind leader with a passion for meaningful connections and making the world a better place. Congratulations, Son! We couldn’t be prouder.

Amy, Tessa, and I were incredibly fortunate to be able to travel to Maine to partake in the celebration last week, accompanied by Braden’s wonderful uncle, Dennis. We got to meet Braden’s friends, get a tour of his favorite UMaine hangouts, attend the Honors College celebration—and, of course, we went out birding!

**Braden and I heard “Teacher! Teacher! Teacher!” almost constantly while I was back in Maine, but this is the only Ovenbird I got a good look at.**

Shaking off my eighteen-hour travel day, I awoke bright and early Saturday morning so that Braden could pick me up for an excursion with some of his friends and birding converts to one of their favorite local hotspots: Taylor Bait Farm. Braden and I had birded here three-and-a-half years earlier (see post “A Tornado of Warblers”) when I originally dropped him off for college, but this was my first time back since. A cold drizzle greeted us (see Equipment Notes at end of this blog), but that did nothing to dampen the bird activity. My top priority? Seeing migrating warblers—and they delivered! Almost immediately, Braden and his friends began calling out Chestnut-sided Warblers, Northern Parulas, Black-and-White Warblers, Ovenbirds, Palm Warblers, and a spectacular male Magnolia Warbler.

**Northern Parulas were probably the most common warblers we encountered this past week, and it was especially fun to see them after Roger and I saw Tropical Parulas in Colombia this winter.**

Braden’s friend Emmit confided to me that the UMaine Birding Club generally considered Black-throat Green Warblers to be the “worst” warbler, but we both strongly disagreed, and I said that anyone who had a problem with that should come see me. Shortly afterward, in fact, I got to see my first “BT Green” since Braden and I visited High Island, Texas more than eight years ago!

**Braden poses with friends and fellow Birding Club members Nathaniel, Emmit, and (far right), Drew. I loved meeting them after hearing so much about them the past year.**

That night, after Braden’s Honors College celebration, he took our entire family out to a place he called “the bike path” for what turned out to be one of the coolest things we have ever witnessed. As the sun set over a large field, a strange, short buzzy song interjected itself into the chorus of spring peepers, Red-winged Blackbirds, and other calls. “That’s it!” Braden excitedly told us. “American Woodcock!”

Braden had told me that we might see one, but as is my nature, I didn’t really believe him. As we all waited in the dimming light, however, a shape suddenly rose up into the sky. “There it is!” Braden exclaimed. The bird’s silhouette looked very similar to a Wilson’s Snipe, and it flew around high in the air—in fact, right over us—before diving back down to its spot in some nearby bushes. Dennis and I felt especially moved by this majestic, little-known performance. “I didn’t even know they did that,” I told Braden.

**While we waited for an American Woodcock to take flight, we all enjoyed a stunning sunset over this field near the UMaine campus.**

From there, Braden led us out onto the bike path itself in the hopes that Tessa would get to see amphibians. The path is where Braden has participated in “Big Nights”: rainy evenings when locals go out to look for—and help—frogs and salamanders that are migrating from their wintering grounds to spring breeding sites. We were a bit late in the year and the rain had stopped, but we lucked out by finding a lone spring peeper on the path. Braden showed Tessa how to wet her hands before picking it up so as not to damage the animal’s delicate skin. Then she moved it off to safety. It was the first frog Tessa ever got to hold and it pretty much made the trip for her!

**We had to really watch our step on the bike path because the spring peepers and salamanders can blend right into the pavement.**

Because of the rain and dim light, I had yet to take any bird photos, so the next morning I woke early before graduation and birded around our Airbnb at Pushaw Lake, nabbing a couple of year birds, Eastern Bluebird and Pine Warbler. Then, we all headed into Bangor to watch Braden “move his tassel.”

**After Braden and I were fortunate to see an Eastern Bluebird during last summer’s eastern Montana expedition, I loved seeing one in it’s “proper” habitat next to our Airbnb!**

Before we knew it, though, we awoke to our final morning in Maine, and Braden picked me up for another early round of birding. He had originally intended to find me my lifer Winter Wren, but I told him that I’d rather spend more time with warblers—and try to photograph them—so we headed back to Taylor Bait Farm. We are so glad that we did!

The hotspot proved even birdier today than it had two mornings earlier. The day started out great, with excellent looks at Solitary Sandpiper, Rose-breasted Grosbeak, Blue-headed Vireos, and Veery. Common Loons flew overhead and a Ruffed Grouse thumped in the distance.

Despite being present in Montana, Veerys are birds that I don’t have a lot of experience with, so I was happy to see and hear them in Maine.

The warblers had not gone anywhere, either. We saw or heard thirteen species. I captured my best-ever Chestnut-sided Warbler photos, but the highlight was finding a Bay-breasted Warbler, a bird Braden especially wanted to see before leaving Maine. It was ironic that this bird captivated us so much here after blowing us away in Montana last spring (see post “A Rare Warbler in Western Montana”). Believe it or not, it did not even end up being our bird of the day.

**Best-looking Warbler ever? The breeding Chestnut-sided Warbler makes a good claim to it. Braden called this one in close so I could get this wonderful shot!**

As we made our way back to the car so that we could meet up for a final family breakfast, Braden suggested we take a slightly different path that wound its way along one of the ponds. As we started down it, a bird flew across the sky. “Get your eyes on that!” Braden said.

I did and for a moment, felt disoriented by what I was seeing. Then my brain began to put it together. “It looks like a cuckoo!” I said.

“It’s a Black-billed Cuckoo!” Braden exulted right before the bird disappeared.

We just stared at each other, open-jawed.

“Have you seen them here before?” I asked.

“I’ve never seen one in Maine!” he emphasized. “They’re really hard to see—and you never hear of one just flying over like that! That’s a lifer for you!”

(See also our post “Going Cuckoo for Fall Warblers in Texas.”)

**Sneed and Braden on their final, terrific outing at Taylor Bait Farm.**

Indeed, but even more, it was a total shock. Like the Yellow-throated Warbler I saw in Texas only three weeks ago (see post “Target Birds and a Shocking Surprise in the Texas Hill Country”), the cuckoo hadn’t even registered as a possibility. It was a great way to cap what turned out to be Braden’s best outing at Taylor Bait Farm in three-and-a-half years birding it. I couldn’t help thinking it made a perfect graduation gift—and boded well both for birds and Braden’s future birding career.

Sneed’s Trip Report: https://ebird.org/tripreport/370034

Equipment Notes: On this trip, I took along a pair of Vortex Viper HD 8X42 binoculars, which I reviewed in this post. This, however, was my first chance to use them in rainy conditions and I have to say, they performed incredibly well. While my companions’ bins were fogging up, the Viper HDs stayed clear as a bell during our two-hour drizzly session. I also had a chance to use the Vipers in “almost night” conditions to view the American Woodcock mentioned above. Again, I was impressed with the amount of light they transmitted, allowing me to easily follow the bird’s silhouette in flight. Back at our Airbnb, I let Braden look at a distant loon on the lake and he said, “Wow, those are good binoculars!” I suspect I’ll be using these a lot more!

**A slightly ruffled-looking Black-and-White Warbler, a favorite among UMaine Birding Club members!**

Chasing Morelet’s Seedeaters—or Why You Shouldn’t Depend on Map Apps Near the Mexican Border (Texas 2025, Final Installment)

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My success finding Black-capped Vireos and Golden-cheeked Warblers (see our last post) left me a welcome gift: an extra day to pursue another bird that keenly interested me. It was a bird Braden and I had unsuccessfully tried for on our 2018 trip to the Lower Rio Grande Valley: Morelet’s Seedeater. Though not rare in its core year-round range of Central America and eastern Mexico, this adorable “finchy” songbird just barely creeps over into the US along the Rio Grande Valley.

**Catching sights such as this setting moon is one of the benefits of being an “early birder.”**

Sunday morning, I rose at four a.m. and headed south from Uvalde. As they had on the previous morning, both a spectacular sunrise and unforgettable setting full moon rewarded me. As light crept over this flat country, caracaras flew along the road and Scissor-tailed Flycatchers perched on telephone wires. I even got a glimpse of a flock of quail leaping over a fence. Scaled Quail? I could only guess! After ninety minutes, my little highway joined Interstate 35.

And that’s where the trouble began.

I-35 is a main artery for trade between Mexico, the US, and Canada. As I sped south, I kept seeing signs for Mexico, but my map app directions assured me that I should keep going and turn off at an exit called Riverbank Drive. As I kept driving, however, I saw no signs for that—or any other—exit, and I realized that the only other traffic around me consisted of huge 18-wheelers. Finally, a thought occurred to me: Uh-oh.

Soon I found myself at a dead stop, surrounded by big rigs, with no way to turn around. There are moments in life where you know you are in a fix, and there’s not a thing you can do about it. This was one of those. Still, hope springs eternal and I climbed out of the car and walked to a big rig next to me. The kind Mexican driver, undoubtedly flummoxed by what I was doing there, rolled down his window, and we had the following conversation:

Me: Uh, I think I made a mistake. I’m trying to go to Laredo.

Driver: Laredo, Mexico?

Me: Uh, no. Laredo, Texas.

Driver (looking worried for me): You’ll have to turn around.

Me: Where?
Driver (after conferring with his partner): I don’t know.

**These Big Rigs kept me company as I contemplated life as a Mexican citizen.**

It was then that I began pondering the frightening ramifications of entering Mexico without a passport. I mean, could I have picked a worse time in history for this to happen??? The only good thing was that a Scissor-tailed Flycatcher perched nearby, blissfully unconcerned by my human drama. A few minutes later, the border opened and I eased in front of my new trucker friend. For ten minutes I and the big rigs inched forward until we reached a wide No Man’s Land of pavement and there I spotted an actual border worker. I pulled up next to him and explained my mistake. Looking vaguely amused and overly patient, he said, “See my buddy back there? Turn around and he’ll keep the trucks stopped while you exit at that road on the side.” I proceeded as instructed, gratefully waving to the “buddy.” I could have burst into tears at this point, but instead, I laughed all the way to the next exit—the real exit—which led to my original destination, Father McNaboe Park.

**The Rio Grande River, aka the Mexican Border, complete with Border Patrol agents and lots of Carrizo cane, where Morelet’s Seedeaters like to hang out.**

By the time I reached the park, I had experienced a week’s worth of drama, but remember, I still had some serious birding on the agenda. In 2018, Braden and I had visited the Lower Rio Grande Valley (LRGV) and even spent a night in Laredo, but had somehow failed to find McNaboe Park. I don’t know how, as the park consisted of a wide, long swath of trails, playing fields, and other amenities right on the Rio Grande River. Today, the park was jammed with people and I felt at ease as I walked toward the river. Before I even got there, I spotted my first great birds of the day—a pair of Hooded Orioles, a species I hadn’t seen since visiting Southern California seven years before. Not long afterward, I saw another oriole, a Bullock’s Oriole—perhaps on its way to Montana?

A Bullock’s Oriole, perhaps on his way to Montana!

Over the phone the night before, Braden had told me to look for the Morelet’s Seedeaters in the “cane grass,” a tall invasive species known in Texas as Carrizo cane. Apparently, this plant can be found all along the 1,255-mile reach of the Rio Grande, and it didn’t take me long to find thick stands of it. I began walking along them looking for little black and brown birds. I covered a couple of hundred yards without seeing any and then walked down to a little sandbar right at river level. No seedeaters.

Then, I happened to glance up a side channel at another thick stand of cane. There, perched on one of the stalks was an erect little bird with a finchy bill. I didn’t get my binoculars up in time to get a good look, but I immediately knew: I had found my bird!

**I was just about to get a great photo of this Morelet’s Seedeater when a loud car rumbled up next to me. I accidentally managed this flight shot, though, which is kind of fun.**

Of course, that didn’t keep me from wanting better looks, and for the next hour or so, I walked various paths and channels. I got to know the bird’s song and it wasn’t long before I was hearing and seeing more of these cute little guys. They were pretty shy, but I managed good looks—and saw some other great birds as well. These included a pair of Black-necked Stilts, a Spotted Sandpiper, a Green Heron, and even a lone Mexican Duck in the middle of the river. Not including the seedeaters, the show stoppers, as usual, were a pair of Vermillion Flycatchers.

**Do Vermillion Flycatchers get way more attention than they deserve? Probably. Does anyone ever get tired of looking at them? I doubt it!**

After a late breakfast at the French restaurant McDaniels, I decided to hit one more park in Laredo—North Central Park. Remarkably, I had failed to find a Golden-fronted Woodpecker so far on the trip, and though the heat was comin’ on fast, the park had abundant sightings of them. It took only five minutes to hear and then see one of these handsome birds and, walking a couple of miles or so, I also added Great Kiskadees and Bell’s Vireo to my trip list. Then, before I inadvertently wandered toward Mexico again, I turned tail and headed back up I-35 for San Antonio.

Link to my Texas Trip Report: https://ebird.org/tripreport/351263

Total Number of Species for the Trip: 144

My Top 6 Trip Birds:

Least Bittern (see post “Anahuac Lifer Attack”)

Yellow-throated Warbler (see Texas Hill Country post)

Black-capped Vireo (see Texas Hill Country post)

Golden-cheeked Warbler (see Texas Hill Country post)

Morelet’s Seedeater (this post)

Yellow-throated Vireo (see Peveto Woods post)