Category Archives: Spring Migration

Presume Not the Common Robin

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!

Pocatello or Bust

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In our last post, I gave the background story of my newest book, Waiting for a Warbler. The irony is that even as I posted it, Braden and I, like many of you, were impatiently waiting for warblers and other spring migrants to show up—so much so that we jumped the gun and leaped into our intrepid minivan for a 1,000-mile road trip. The trip’s main impetus was to hear Boreal Owls after dusk at Lost Trail Pass on the Montana/Idaho border, and things started well as we picked up an uncommon Eurasian Wigeon near Lee Metcalf NWR on the way down. Alas, despite spending two hours hitting the ski area parking lot and various locations along highway 43, we heard not a single bird—this, despite our friend Nick hearing FIVE Boreal Owls several years ago. Disappointed, but not shocked, we proceeded to Wisdom to spend the night at the comfortable Pioneer Mountain Lodge.

**Totally unexpected, this was perhaps our closest look ever at one of our favorite winter birds, American Tree Sparrows, right alongside the road in Wisdom, MT.**

Before heading south the next morning, we decided to do a quick tour of Wisdom and were fortunate to spot American Tree Sparrows and a Northern Shrike. Along the highway, our luck continued with great raptor looks, including a ginormous Great Horned Owl sitting on a mile marker next to the road! At the ghost town of Bannack, however, we struck out on Sagebrush Sparrows and Sage Thrashers (still too early) and, after “dipping” on Chukars in Dillon as well, decided to head to Idaho for our first interstate birding in months.

We were especially excited to visit Camas National Wildlife Refuge, but when we arrived, instead of ponds overflowing with waterfowl, we found depressing drying mud with a few determined Canada Geese and Mallards wondering what the heck was going on. We wondered, too, and a little research pointed both to a dry year and, more crucially, a lowered water table caused by over-pumping of groundwater by agricultural interests. This is a situation faced by more and more places in the West and national wildlife refuges seem to be particularly at risk as their budgets for new wells, staff, and infrastructure haven’t nearly kept up with their needs (see the Audubon article “Overwhelmed and Understaffed, Our National Wildlife Refuges Need Help”).

**The kind of depressing scenes we found at Camas National Wildlife Refuge are playing out all over the West as human demand for water robs wildlife of essential habitat and resources.**

Determined to redeem our day, we pushed on to Pocatello, where we had a delightful hike through juniper forest and saw our Lifer Juniper Titmice. In fact, these wonderful little birds may have ended up being the highlight of our trip as we got to watch them sing, bicker at each other, feed on berries, and generally make the most of life.

**Both Braden and I fell in love with Juniper Titmice, described by eBird as “Possibly the plainest bird in North America.”**

The next morning we decided to heed Supertramp’s advice and take the long way home through Craters of the Moon National Monument (closed) and Sun Valley. We had a special interest in Sun Valley because another Lifer, Black Rosy-Finch, had been reported there, and as we drove up a long canyon road we wondered if we would again be disappointed as this was the year’s fourth attempt to find this elusive bird. We arrived and . . . no birds. We hung out for several minutes, though, and suddenly heard finchy chirps above us. The rosy-finches! And not just Black, but Gray-crowned, too. It was particularly gratifying to find these gorgeous little passerines both because we’d looked for them many times and because this might well be Braden’s last chance to see them before he heads east for college this summer. The rosy-finches and titmice made the scenic drive home through the Sawtooths especially enjoyable—and a surprise find of a Ruffed Grouse along the highway extra sweet.

**Hard to find at best, Black Rosy-Finches are some of North America’s most beautiful passerines. They nest at high altitudes and, not surprisingly, are some of America’s least-studied birds.**

Birds and Books

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As always, we’d be delighted if you share this post with anyone you think might be interested.

*Waiting for a Warbler* (Tilbury House, 2021) is my first illustrated picture book in more than a decade. It tells the charming stories of a migrating Cerulean Warbler, and a family that has been improving its backyard habitat for birds. You can order it now by clicking on the image or, better yet, placing a call to your local independent bookstore.

As a writer, birding gives me much more than inspiration. It has granted me a second lease on my career. When Braden and I dived into birding, it was the heart of the Great Recession and, like now, publishers were buying zilch. I was trying different things with mixed results, but felt more or less directionless. Birding changed all that. The more we saw and learned about birds, the more ideas I had to write—ideas that have resulted in adult books and magazine articles, and in my children’s books Fire Birds; Woodpeckers: Drilling Holes & Bagging Bugs; and Birds of Every Color. My newest title, Waiting for a Warbler, has a special history I’d like to share.

Woodpeckers: Drilling Holes and Bagging Bugs by Sneed B. Collard III (Bucking Horse Books, 2018)

The idea to write about warbler migration blossomed in my brain only days after Braden and I visited High Island, Texas during our 2016 Big Year of birding. High Island is what’s called a migrant trap. The shelter and food it provides lures thousands of exhausted, migrating songbirds as they complete their marathon eighteen-hour flights across the Gulf of Mexico. We spent only a day at High Island, but during that time observed more than a dozen kinds of warblers along with tanagers, thrushes, vireos, and many other songbirds, and I was so inspired I quickly wrote down a story and sent it to a publisher who had expressed interest. I heard . . . nothing. No call. No feedback. No offer.

I let the idea sit for a year or so—often a useful thing to do to get perspective on a manuscript—and took another look at it. I realized it read a little stiff and impersonal, and decided to recast it as the story of one individual warbler crossing the Gulf of Mexico. I sent it to a different publisher, who wrote back within a month or two and said that he liked it, but what about working in the idea of a family waiting for the warbler to arrive? It was a great suggestion and I quickly revised the story and sent it off. Two years later, the book has been published!

Just a few of the birds we saw during our eye-opening visit to High Island in 2016. From Left to Right, Little Blue Heron, Black-throated Green Warbler, and the most cooperative Rose-breasted Grosbeak in the history of birding!

The book recounts the epic, dangerous journey of a male Cerulean Warbler that runs headlong into a storm halfway across the Gulf of Mexico, but it also focuses on a family that has been working hard to improve its backyard habitat for birds and other wildlife. The two children had glimpsed a Cerulean Warbler the year before, but the bird had not stayed, and they hope to see the bird again this year. I will leave the rest to your imagination—or, better yet, until you read the story for yourselves—but I have to say that I am extremely proud of this book both because of the adventure it shares and the positive role models it offers. The delightful illustrations by Thomas Brooks help make Waiting for a Warbler both a perfect read-aloud and a useful resource for a family or class-room conservation project. Braden and I hope that you all enjoy it, and would be grateful if you share this post with friends, teachers, and others. Bird—and write—on!

Stumbling After Sparrows

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Sparrows. A simple word that can elicit groans from the most experienced birder. Even after six years of dedicated birding, I feel like I am just beginning to grasp most sparrow identification, let alone sparrow behavior and song. With Braden’s help, I can now figure out most of Western Montana’s species, but put me in any new environment and I’m like a birding babe with a binkie.

**It’s always great to see Chipping Sparrows back in Montana—even if they add to the sparrow confusion this time of year!**

Earlier this week, I had the pleasure of speaking at the Helena public library, followed by a lively Last Chance Audubon meeting nearby. The next morning, I decided to sneak in some birding before heading back to Missoula. I first chose a local site affectionately called the “K-mart Wetlands.” This was my first time at the ponds during spring migration, and my pulse raced as I heard the haunting call of a Sora from the cattails. That was followed by my FOY (First of Year) Common Yellowthroat and a flock of more than twenty Yellow-rumped Warblers.

I was fortunate to run into a Helena birder name Jeffrey Olsson who said, “I heard a Clay-colored Sparrow down at the end there.” Though Braden had done his best to educate me about this bird, I drew a mental blank. “What does it sound like?” I asked Jeff. He repeated a buzzy sound for me. “Great. Thanks,” I said and headed off down a fenceline in pursuit. Amazingly, I heard the distinctive call, but didn’t catch sight of the bird.

**No question, Lark Sparrows are some of the most stunning sparrows of all. This was only my third sighting in Montana.**

I did run into a large number of Chipping Sparrows along with a single White-crowned. After completing a loop of the end pond, I looked out into a gravel patch and spotted a lone bird foraging for seeds. “Clay-colored?” I asked myself, quickly raising my camera. It wasn’t. Instead, it was something just as exciting—a lone Lark Sparrow. After seeing one with Braden and Nick Ramsey only a couple of weeks earlier, the Lark got my pulse racing, especially after I managed some good photos. Alas, I still didn’t glimpse a Clay-colored—or so I thought.

While taking photos of the Chipping Sparrows, I noticed some with duller brown head stripes instead of the usual bright red. I assumed these duller sparrows were females, but they also seemed suspicious. Later, back at home, Braden confirmed something I’d been pondering. The “female” Chipping Sparrows were actually Clay-coloreds! Once again, it was the struggle over identifications that inched my knowledge forward. While it’s a certainty I’ll misidentify many other sparrows in the future, each time I run into these interesting little birds, my brain connections grow. Which, of course, is what makes birding an endless adventure.

Sparrow On!

FatherSonBirding

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