Category Archives: Spring Migration

Five Year Birds: Birding Therapy Day Four

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I especially looked forward to Day 4 of Birding Therapy Week because I would get to take a hike with one of my favorite Missoula people, Paul Queneau. As fellow Assistant Scoutmasters, Paul and I have shared a number of adventures including helping lead Scouts for week-long trips down the Missouri River and to Glacier National Park. Paul is an outstanding photographer, writer, and naturalist, so we always have a lot to share when we get together.

Though one of the last Montana warblers we learned, Nashvilles have quickly become one of Braden’s and my favorites.

Before meeting up with Paul Thursday morning, however, I wanted to make a quick stop at the base of Mount Jumbo because Braden had spotted his first Nashville Warbler of the year there the day before. The shining sun bode well as I hiked up a short little trail to a brushy area that often holds an assortment of great spring songbirds. In no time, I heard the calls of a Spotted Towhee and a Western Meadowlark. I also detected a song that I thought might be the Nashville and . . . it was! Nashville Warblers are one of my favorite spring Montana birds and this little guy just put a huge smile on my face. As a bonus, I scored two more Year Birds I didn’t expect: Calliope Hummingbird and Vaux’s Swift!

It’s a swallow . . . It’s a starling . . . No, it’s a Vaux’s Swift! Though easy to mistake for swallows, swifts have more rapid, stiffer wing beats and, to my mind, a more classic scythe or boomerang flying profile. As you can tell, I have never managed a good flight photo of one!

Flush with three Year Birds, I picked up Paul and he directed me to a new trail I’d never been on out near the Canyon River Golf Club in East Missoula. Though more of a mammal man, Paul has been staking out the site to photograph hummingbirds and Spotted Sandpipers. We headed down along the river hearing multiple Spotted Towhees and Song Sparrows, but didn’t see any Spotted Sandpipers. Then, a bird flew in and landed right next to the water. I assumed it was a sandpiper, but focusing in I found myself staring at an American Pipit—a total surprise for this time of year and location, at least for me. American Pipits breed in alpine and Arctic habitats, and can be found at lower elevations/latitudes during migration, but Braden and I had never seen them along a river like this. Best of all, it was another Year Bird pour moi—and not the last.

Though American Pipits are reported around Missoula this time of year, the appearance of this one right on the Clark Fork River was a delightful surprise.

As Paul and I kept walking, pleasantly chatting about birds, writing, photography, and more, we saw a sparrow fly into a bush. We’d been hearing a lot of Song Sparrows singing and thought it might be one. Closer inspection revealed yellow above the eye—a sure giveaway for Savannah Sparrow, and Year Bird Number 5 for the day! All too soon, we had to turn around so we could get back to work, but it was an exhilarating morning, and I knew I would return to this spot again and again—hopefully with both Paul and Braden.

Soccer Ball Birding: Birding Therapy Week Day Three

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Day 3 of Birding Week Therapy proved an easy task thanks to my daughter’s regular Wednesday night soccer practice out at Fort Missoula—a location that happens to sit next to what may be Missoula’s best birding location, affectionately known as “the gravel quarry.” Over the past years, Braden and I have birded the quarry dozens of times and counted about 130 different species there, including a number of rarities such as Long-tailed Duck, Pacific Loon, and Eurasian Wigeon that swing by during spring and fall migrations. This time of year, I was especially keen on finding some cool sparrows, which can also drop in for a week or two at a time. I would have preferred a morning visit, but birders can’t always be choosers, so after dropping my daughter off, our dog Lola and I set off to see what we could find.

The late-season Merlin was a real treat, especially watching it in action hunting another bird!

Few ducks graced the pond and they were too far away to ID without a scope, so we hurried on to the river to look for sparrows. Alas, the action proved pretty slow, but as I was peering into one of my favorite sparrow spots, two larger birds dived into a patch of tansy. One flew off again before I could ID it, but the other extricated itself and perched on a nearby tree. Its behavior led me to believe it was a Sharp-tailed Hawk, but on closer inspection I saw that it was a Merlin! And quite late in the year for the location! I took my time studying it since I often have difficulty identifying these in the field.

Cooper’s Hawks are common at the quarry, but I wondered if this was a resident or just passing through.

Minutes later I saw another raptor circling and just assumed it was the Merlin, but no, it proved to be a Cooper’s Hawk! Braden later reminded me that raptor migration was in full swing so both sightings made sense, along with the lone Turkey Vulture I saw in the distance.

I never tire of watching Sandhill Cranes and it seems we’ve been finding them at this location more consistently the past couple of years.

Soon, I heard weird guttural calls that I have come to love—Sandhill Cranes. Three of them caught the gorgeous evening light and I am guessing they breed nearby since they’ve become a common sight out there. Alas, songbirds proved scarce but on our way back to the car, Lola and I finally dissected a White-crowned Sparrow from some brush. I’d had bigger days at the quarry—and better photos, too—but also much worse days. I knew, though, that I’d be returning for Day 6 of Birding Therapy Week—and in the morning!   

A Week of Birding Therapy: Day One

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I know it’s hard to believe but even underpaid writers living in Montana can get to feeling down sometimes. Covid certainly has not helped the situation since it and the gut-wrenching economic and societal upheavals it has triggered make the future look blurry at best. In this kind of situation, however, birders have a distinct advantage over non-birders. Why? Because we can immediately step outside for a dose of birding therapy. Last weekend, in fact, I decided I needed not one day, but a week of birding to try to set things right. I began with a return to a place that in many ways inspired my and Braden’s journey into birding: the Blue Mountain Nature Trail just south of Missoula.

It’s always a good day when you see shooting stars in the wild. We tried planting them in our garden when we moved in 15 years ago and the deer loved them. Only one highly-protected plant survives!

The nature trail takes hikers through a twenty-year-old burn that in years past has been a birders’ paradise with plenty of snags for woodpeckers and a lush resurgence of native plant growth on the newly-sunlit forest floor. The trail, in fact, is where UM biologist Dick Hutto—an expert on the value of burns to birds—took me when I began researching my book Fire Birds: Valuing Natural Wildfires and Burned Forests. At the time, Black-backed Woodpeckers still lived there, but I wondered what it would be like some eight years later. I was not disappointed.

Though the Black-backed Woodpeckers have long departed for blacker pastures, Northern Flickers still take full advantage of the burned forest twenty years after the blaze.

Though I arrived a week or two early for the crush of cavity nesters about to descend on the forest, seeing my first shooting stars and Pasque flowers of the year immediately cheered me up. And the birds, while not abundant, were of the highest quality. On my way up I saw a pair of Townsend’s Solitaires, and heard Cassin’s Finches and my year’s first Williamson’s Sapsucker, which I IDed both by its higher, forest-edge location and its almost halting, hesitant drum pattern. Moving on, I spent time with a Hairy Woodpecker and Northern Flicker, and at the forested saddle where I usually turn around, spotted my year’s first Cooper’s Hawk flying furtively and low to the ground.

Townsend’s Solitaires are hands-down one of our favorite Montana passerines and nest in the root balls of fallen trees. This makes them perfect burn birds.

I had hoped to hear an Orange-crowned Warbler, but alas, was probably a bit too early for those. Back near the road, however, I was rewarded by Red Crossbills and the year’s first look at a dazzling male Yellow-rumped Warbler. Satisfied with my thirteen species, I continued on to the car, planning my next day’s trip to the Missoula Cemetery to see what I could find. Unbeknownst to me, fate was about to deal Braden and me a radically different birding destination for Tuesday . . .

Presume Not the Common Robin

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This time of year we observe a remarkable influx of American Robins in western Montana. True, the birds are year-round residents in small numbers through much of the state, but by April, instead of spotting the occasional bird, Braden and I begin counting them by the dozens. As much as I love this “thrush flush”, I have to admit it has led to some close calls in bird IDs this past week.

This time of year, it’s easy to assume that every medium-sized bird is a robin—but BIRDERS BEWARE!

Every morning I grab my binoculars when I head out to take our dog Lola for her morning tramp around our neighborhood. We follow a mile-long route around a school, down to a park, and then back up home, skirting the edges of houses, woods, and Rattlesnake Creek. Over the years, Braden and I have compiled a healthy bird list for the route, but I have to say that it rarely yields any real surprises. As a result, I become lulled into a sense of complacency about what I am looking at.

To wit, with all the robins around lately, I have naturally assumed I am looking at Turdus migratorius when I see medium-sized, nondescript birds perched in a distant tree. On my Wednesday dog walk, I again made those assumptions. I mean, there were a ton of robins about and I identified many by sight and sound. When I saw fifteen birds sitting in another tree, I thought, “More robins.” Fortunately, something made me pause—perhaps my inner birder conscience or a feather that didn’t look quite right. Ignoring Lola’s piercing eyes, which pleaded for me to throw the ball again, I raised my binoculars and found . . .

This photo sheds light—or shadow—on how easy it is to mistake other groups of birds for American Robins.

Cedar Waxwings! “Huh,” I thought. “That’s cool.” Waxwings weren’t earth-shattering, but I didn’t expect to see such a group this time of year. I threw the ball for Lola and continued walking, and a hundred yards later saw another group of birds in a tree. “More robins,” I thought, then remembered the waxwings and again raised my binoculars to find . . .

Evening Grosbeaks! Even better, it was my first good look at them for the year! Those two back-to-back sightings taught me a valuable birding lesson: never assume what you’re looking at just because certain birds are more common or you’ve seen them before. I hope it’s a lesson that will serve you well this spring—not that there’s anything wrong with robins.  

Up close, an Evening Grosbeak’s markings are distinctive, but even from medium range, light and shadow can obscure an accurate ID!

Camas National Wildlife Refuge Update

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After last week’s post on our visit to Camas National Wildlife Refuge (see Pocatello or Bust), I received a welcome call from Refuge Manager Brian Wehausen. I had left a message with him, wanting to learn more about the seemingly bleak situation at the refuge, and he generously shared half an hour with me explaining the water shortage and prospects for the future.

When the refuge was purchased in 1937, Brian began, local farmers were taking water from the nearby Henry’s Fork stream and surface irrigating their crops in such a way that loads of excess water “skipped down” to the refuge, creating ample ponds for birds and other wildlife. When farmers switched to sprinkler irrigation in the 1980s, that load of water ceased and the refuge began drying up. “Before agriculture,” Brian shared, “the refuge probably had good and bad years, but we don’t really have any way of knowing what it was like.” Even so, the current situation has been impacted by the drop in the aquifer due to overpumping by agricultural and other interests so that in bad years such as this, migrating birds meet mud instead of water on their way north.

While offering little for migrating birds now, infrastructure improvements at Camas NWR will soon allow the refuge to fill at least some of their ponds even in bad years.

The good news is that the refuge recently received money from the Great American Outdoors Act to drill new wells that will put water into areas that they know retain it better. Brian doesn’t think they can return the refuge to what it was in its heyday in the 60s and 70s, but hopes to definitely improve the situation for waterfowl. “My whole goal,” he said, “is to be efficient with the surface water and also be efficient with the well water, and most of the water we pump will go right back into the aquifer.”

Unlike in some other places, the local community supports the refuge and agrees it’s worth keeping wet. “Generally, people love to see the birds,” Brian says. “We were a mecca for hunting in the 1970s, and that’s gone away, but people still come. Photography is our Number One use today.”

Before we hung up, I was curious what happens to the snow geese and other birds who arrive to find the refuge dry. Brian told me that when Camas is dry, Dillon (just over the border in southern Montana) also tends to be dry so most of the birds head straight up to Freezeout Lake (see our post A Real Wild Goose Chase)—which is where many birders are enjoying them as I write this. It sounds, though, that we’ll all be able to add Camas to our great birding hotspot lists in the very near future!