Category Archives: Texas

Getting Serious About State Birds

The following is a written version of a presentation Braden gave to the UMaine Birding Club at last Thursday’s meeting. Warning: Do Not Read unless you have a sense of humor!

In the 1920s, the General Federation of Women’s Clubs decided that every state should have a bird to represent it, a bird of its very own. A diverse array of groups, including women’s clubs, schoolchildren, and state legislatures voted on the state birds, eventually giving each state a bird (well, almost every state, and we’ll get to that). But put quite simply, most of the state bird selections are bad, and I’m not the only birder who believes this. Almost anyone with knowledge of North America’s avifauna agrees that the people who selected the state birds of the United States of America did a woefully horrible job. Let’s go over why that is.

In order to call a state bird “bad,” you must first determine what makes a state bird “good.” I designed the following set of criteria expressly for this purpose:

Each state must have a state bird.
The state bird must be a real bird.
The state bird must be wild.
The state bird must be unique to, native to, and representative of that state.
The state bird name must not be offensive or insulting to the vast majority of American citizens.

These criteria should be easy to fulfill, but after analyzing each and every state bird, I determined that a mere thirteen of the state birds qualify as “good.” Willow Ptarmigan, for example, is the state bird of Alaska. Willow Ptarmigans are real, wild birds found across the entire state. Furthermore, they represent their state in a way no other state birds could. To wit, much of Alaska in summer is brown—and so is the Willow Ptarmigan. In winter, Alaska is white—and so is Willow Ptarmigan. Finally, their name doesn’t offend anyone. This, then, is a great example of what a state bird can and should be.

**The Scissor-tailed Flycatcher is a stunning example of a great state bird. Good job Oklahoma—though how Texas overlooked it is beyond us.**

Twelve other states met my criteria, due to their well-thought-out, unique selections. These include Georgia, with the Brown Thrasher, a widespread backyard bird with a great singing voice, and Oklahoma, with the Scissor-tailed Flycatcher, a bird that only breeds in a limited part of the country that includes Oklahoma. It also sports striking colors and an impressive caboose. The other states with good state birds are: Arizona (Cactus Wren); Colorado (Lark Bunting); Hawaii (Nene); Louisiana (Brown Pelican, my dad’s favorite bird); Maryland (Baltimore Oriole); Minnesota (Common Loon); New Hampshire (Purple Finch); New Mexico (Greater Roadrunner); South Carolina (Carolina Wren); and finally, Vermont, with Hermit Thrush as its avian emblem.

**New Mexico’s Greater Roadrunner offers yet another excellent state bird example—though we saw this one behind a gas station in Tucson, Arizona.**

The bad news? THIRTY-SEVEN states fail the “good bird” criteria, which, honestly, is ridiculous. Let’s take a closer look at how various states have failed in their selections, one criterion at a time.

CRITERION #1: EACH BIRD MUST HAVE A STATE BIRD.

Now, you’d think this one would be easy, right? The General Federation of Women’s Clubs said that each state should have a bird to represent it, and so all fifty of the states should have followed suit, right? Wrong. Pennsylvania, of all places, failed this most simple of tests. I had a job in Pennsylvania last summer, and loved it. I got to know the state’s avifauna well, with its dozens of breeding warblers and melodic Wood Thrushes and goofy Scarlet Tanagers. Golden-winged Warblers have leapt to the top of my all-time favorite birds list because of what I experienced—so you can imagine my utter disappointment upon finding out that the Keystone State completely lacks a “Keystone bird.”

Now, Pennsylvania does have a state game bird. Is this the same? No. No, it is not. South Carolina’s state game bird is the Northern Bobwhite. That is different from its state bird, the Carolina Wren. Georgia’s state game bird is the Wild Turkey, while its state bird is the Brown Thrasher. State birds should represent the cultural and ecological aspects of the regions they are chosen for. State game birds, on the other hand, are birds that people most like to shoot at. So no, I don’t care how adorable a Ruffed Grouse’s neck feathers look during the breeding season. It is the state game bird of Pennsylvania, but it is not the state bird. Sigh.

**As much as we love Ruffed Grouse, we’re sorry Pennsylvania: it does not count for your state bird!**

CRITERION #2: THE STATE BIRD MUST BE A REAL BIRD.

This is what I got the most flack about during my birding club presentation, and it was mainly due to the two club members from New Jersey. Go figure. So let’s talk about goldfinches. There are three goldfinches native to North America. One is the American Goldfinch, one of the continent’s most widespread species. Another is the Lesser Goldfinch, found in the arid southwest (and now, likely thanks to climate change, parts of Montana). The third breeds only in California and winters in the desert—the Lawrence’s Goldfinch. American, Lesser, Lawrence’s. Three goldfinches. Just three.

So why is New Jersey’s state bird the EASTERN Goldfinch? That’s not a thing! It does not exist! You might say, “Well, Braden, I’m from New Jersey and think I’m pretty cool and would like to inform you that Eastern Goldfinch is actually the subspecies of American Goldfinch found in New Jersey.” My response: “Well Mr. and/or Mrs. New Jersey, I didn’t think I had to clarify that a state bird must be a full species!” Your state bird cannot be an obscure subspecies, and beyond that, the people who picked the Eastern Goldfinch didn’t even know what subspecies are. They likely chose it because back then, American Goldfinches were known as Eastern Goldfinches in New Jersey. Well, guess what? It’s 2023 now, not 1923, so wake up and change your state bird’s name. Oh, and by the way, Iowa did the same thing! Thankfully, no western states would make this kind of ridiculous mis—

Oh, wait a minute. I forgot about Washington. Its state bird is the WILLOW Goldfinch! Did I stutter when I said there were three goldfinches in the U.S.? Eastern is not among them, and Willow most certainly is not! All this being said, these errors are mostly due to changes in bird names over the last century and states not updating those bird names. I was joking about what I said above, concerning Mr. and Mrs. New Jersey. Mostly. Let’s move on.

**Hello, New Jersey? These are Lawrence’s Goldfinches—actual, real birds. So-called “Eastern Goldfinches” are not!**

CRITERION #3: THE STATE BIRD MUST BE WILD.

Domesticated animals do not represent the unique land that each state contains. We brought them here for our own reasons, and they exist here simply to serve us. Wild birds are not like that. And so what was Rhode Island thinking when it selected a breed of chicken, the Rhode Island Red? Granted, Rhode Island doesn’t have much land to work with, but the state still has recorded more than 300 species of native, wild birds. Were all of the state legislators hungry the day they picked a chicken? Was Colonel Sanders sitting amongst these legislators, throwing feathers at them and offering to fund their next campaigns for office? Whatever the reason, Rhode Island somehow did a better job than Delaware, which not only selected a chicken, but picked the Delaware Blue Hen, something that isn’t even an officially recognized breed. Still, we’re not going to honor either selection with a photo.

CRITERION #4: THE STATE BIRD MUST BE UNIQUE TO, NATIVE TO, AND REPRESENTATIVE OF THAT STATE.

Oh, boy. Here we go. Up to this point, we’ve had a few failures per criterion—a state without a state bird here, two chickens there—but things are about to ramp up.

Let’s start with a state bird that isn’t *that* bad: California’s state bird, the California Quail. It’s found across the state, it’s familiar, it’s endearing, and it even has the state’s name embedded in it. There are seven birds named for the state of California, and I have to admit that the California Quail was a better choice than most of the others: the California Thrasher, Scrub-Jay, Gnatcatcher, Towhee and Gull. The quail is the second best California bird. But one overshadows it, one of North America’s largest birds, a critically endangered species that soars between the canyons of Big Sur State Park and over the rocky red pillars of Pinnacles National Park. This bird almost went extinct, thanks to DDT among other things, and is only still with us because of the work of Rachel Carson and hundreds of other hard-working conservationists. There’s really little to debate; the California Condor should, hands down, be California’s state bird. It may not be as widespread as the quail, but with persistent conservation efforts and luck, it may be again someday.

**During our Big Year, my dad and I were lucky enough to see California Condors—a slam-dunk for California’s state bird!**

Leaping down from that majestic image, I present to you Utah’s state bird: the California Gull. Do you see anything wrong here? Not only did Utah select a bird named after another state, it probably picked the worst of the California-named birds. The choice involves Mormons and agriculture and hordes of grasshoppers and gulls appearing like angels in the rising sun to gobble up those grasshoppers and save the day. Still, human agricultural practices and ravenous insects are no reason to pick a state bird named after another state. Utah, you can do better. Maybe a project for Mitt Romney, now that he’s retiring?

And that brings us to the repeats. Maine and Massachusetts share Black-capped Chickadee as their state bird. Is Black-capped Chickadee a bad state bird? No. They’re one of North America’s most familiar birds and have adorable, curious personalities. In fact, they’re probably on my fairly long list of favorite birds. That said, a state bird should be unique. My solution? Give Mass the chickadee. Maine has a variety of excellent options, including boreal birds like Spruce Grouse and seabirds like Razorbill. And of course the Atlantic Puffin is plastered on every sign, billboard and advertisement in the coastal part of the state—why not make it the state bird?

Eastern Bluebird represents both New York and Missouri, creating the same problem. Again, there is nothing wrong with the bluebird as a state bird, but only one of these states should claim it. Idaho and Nevada both have Mountain Bluebird, and American Robin is the state bird of three states: Connecticut, Wisconsin and Michigan.

Northern Mockingbird represents five states, and it gets worse, because they include two of best birding states in the country: Texas and Florida. Both states receive a phenomenal array of species within their borders, with Florida recording more than 500 species and Texas surpassing 600. Texas is home to the endangered prairie-chickens that dance in the shortgrass prairie, an endemic warbler and vireo found in the hill country, dozens of colorful Mexican species, and just about every bird that migrates into or out of North America. Florida, meanwhile, holds two birds that feed exclusively on snails, a trio of birds found only in the endangered Longleaf Pine Savanna ecosystem, and a completely endemic corvid named after the state itself: the Florida Scrub-Jay. And yet, what did they choose? The Northern Mockingbird—along with Tennessee, Mississippi and Arkansas. As a humorous aside, I found this defense from an op-ed in a Florida newspaper arguing for the mockingbird and against the scrub-jay as the state’s bird: “The mockingbird is a well-established, independent, prolific bird that doesn’t need government protection or our tax dollars to survive.”

**Don’t get us wrong, people. We LOVE Northern Mockingbirds**, **but don’t you know you’re not supposed to copy off of other people’s exams?**

Believe it or not, Northern Mockingbird isn’t even the most commonly chosen state bird. Western Meadowlark is the state bird of six states, including Montana and Oregon, two diverse states that mean a lot to me. I’ve had a lot of fun experiencing the birdlife of these two places over the last decade (yes, my dad and I have been birding for a decade as of this January), and Western Meadowlark is an icon of the West, but again, six states do not need to have the same bird. For Montana I might suggest Black Swift, Sprague’s Pipit, or Chestnut-collared Longspur. Varied Thrush would make a stunning bird to grace Oregon’s flags and signs.

And that brings us to the Northern Cardinal, the state bird that just won’t stop. After Kentucky chose it in the early 1920s, six more states followed suit. I mean, it’s fun and red, but seriously??? With all the other great birds to choose from, the lack of creativity amongst these states is mind-boggling.

**The selection of Northern Cardinal by seven, count ’em, SEVEN states proves that a) state bird committees are lazy or b) Americans have an outsized love of Santa Claus and his red outfit.**

Oh, and as for the “native to” part of this criterion? South Dakota’s state bird is the Ring-necked Pheasant—a native of China, not the United States. Not even the same continent! Note to South Dakota politicians: you may not want to use this bird as part of your political platform. Which, finally, brings us to . . .

CRITERION #5: THE STATE BIRD MUST NOT BEAR A NAME OFFENSIVE TO LARGE GROUPS OF PEOPLE.

This is a no-brainer, and my dad will address it in an upcoming post.

For now, this post is longer than expected so I’ll wrap up swiftly. The state birds are bad, plain and simple. Most need to be changed. Do I think they ever will be? No. Meanwhile, if this post raised your blood pressure (and it should!), please let us know what you think your state bird should be!

Birding and Books: Sneed’s New Picture Book, BORDER CROSSINGS

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My new picture book, Border Crossings, was inspired by Braden’s and my amazing trips birding along the U.S.-Mexico border. Order now through your local bookstore or directly from Charlesbridge Publishing.

Watch the book trailer for Border Crossings now!

If you ever doubt how inspiring birds are to people, just look at the incredible bird-related creativity writers, artists, and photographers pour forth into the world. I plead guilty to be among their ranks as birds have inspired at least half a dozen of my books and countless articles. Sometimes, though, birds themselves are not the topic. Instead, my pursuit of birds gives me another idea. Such is the case with my new picture book, Border Crossings.

**From *Border Crossings*, illustrated by Howard Gray**.

During the past seven years, Braden and I have been fortunate to be able to bird along the U.S.-Mexico border at least four times: twice in Arizona, and once each in Texas and California. These trips have been among the most inspiring of our birding lives, not only providing glimpses of hundreds of remarkable birds, but introducing us to the rich human culture that spans the border region. When our former president announced plans to build a steel barrier the full length of our border, it rang alarm bells for numerous reasons. For one thing, it seemed a giant slap in the face to Mexico, a country we depend on and take advantage of in many ways. I also worried how a wall would impact the myriad animal species that regularly cross back and forth across the border.

San Bernardino NWR is one of many places we birded in 2016 that was wall-free. Now, a giant steel barrier both prevents many animals from moving freely through their natural home—it directly endangers several officially listed endangered fishes. **To read about that click here.**

Though we humans have drawn an artificial line separating the U.S. and Mexico, the fact is that continuous ecosystems run through this remarkably biodiverse region. In these ecosystems, animals routinely cross back and forth from one country to another. Many do this in the course of their daily routines while others cross mostly during annual migrations. The steel “bollard” wall, however, has gaps only four inches wide—small enough to exclude hundreds of animal species. Even some birds—think game birds, roadrunners, and Ferruginous Pygmy-owls—probably turn back from this monstrosity. That’s not to mention javelinas, pronghorn, tortoises, hares, wolves, and dozens of other larger animals. Clearly, in their rush to build a political statement, no one in charge gave wildlife the slightest thought.

One of many Arizona border communities that was wall-free during our 2016 trip is now permanently divided by an ugly barrier—one that is doing untold damage not only to these communities but to wildlife.

Border Crossings is my attempt to raise awareness of this important issue. To illustrate the dilemma, the story follows two ocelots. These beautiful wild cats live in both Texas and Arizona as well as Mexico, and I decided to show the plight of one that is free to cross the border without obstruction—and one that is blocked by the imposing steel barrier. I was fortunate that my publisher hired the talented Howard Gray to illustrate the book. His remarkable illustrations really bring the story to life and, I hope, make readers young and old think about the often catastrophic consequences of simple-minded solutions.

One problem I had writing the story is that wall construction proceeded at breakneck speed even as we were going through the editing process. On our last trip to Arizona, in fact, Braden and I were dismayed to see this ugly barrier stretch across several regions that had been beautifully wall-free during our previous trip in 2016. Rather than trying to rewrite the story, I explain the situation in the backmatter. Realistically, I don’t see the wall coming down anytime soon, but I hope Border Crossings will help create momentum to at least build numerous wildlife crossings through it. If you’d like to make a difference, share your concerns with your U.S. Senators and Congressmen. As great men have stated in the past, only if we stay silent can tyranny—and in this case, horrible ideas—triumph.

**For humans, the border is just a problem to be solved, but for thousands of species, this region is home.** **(From *Border Crossings*, illustrated by Howard Gray.)**

FatherSonBirding’s 100th Post Video Spectacular: Counting Down Our Top 5 Most Popular Posts!

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Do you remember listening to American Top 40 as a kid? Sure you do! To celebrate our 100th post, we decided to count down FSB’s All-Time Most Popular Posts—with a video!

Yes, believe it or not, this is FatherSonBirding’s 100th post! Since we seem to be evolving toward a video world, Braden and I agreed that a video post would be a fun way to celebrate our last four years of birding and blogging. Just don’t get used to it! Videos take a lot more effort than regular blogging and, frankly, making videos eats into our birding time!

A few notes about the Top 5. They may not be technically correct since for some of our early posts, we may not have been gathering statistics on views. Also, we had not yet switched to a Payola scheme by which people pay us to make sure that certain posts are more popular. Just kidding! About the Payola, that is. I’ll always be curious just how many views our first post, A Quest for Snowy Owls (published March 13, 2018) has really received!

Also, below are some quick links to the posts mentioned in this blog. They are NOT IN ORDER of popularity so there’s no opportunity for cheating here! You’ll just have to watch the video to find out WHAT IS NUMBER ONE! Also, I have misspelled “Maclay Flat” as “McClay Flats” and other permutations. You’ll just have to forgive me!

Thank you for following our birding adventures. We appreciate you and hope this winter brings you plenty of birding adventures of your own!

Links to Blogs mentioned in the video (not in order of popularity):

Lucky Day at Maclay

Birding San Antonio’s River Walk? Are You Nuts?

Incredible Birthday Birding

For Birders, Every Year is a Big Year

Are You Ready for . . . the QUACH?

To view this video post on YouTube, CLICK HERE!

My Accidental Big Year

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If you’ve been a loyal fan of FatherSonBirding, you probably know about Braden’s and my 2016 Big Year in which we saw 337 species in the American Birding Association (ABA) region in a calendar year. Since then, we have never set out to topple that record even though, with our vastly improved birding skills and knowledge, it would be a relatively easy thing to do. In fact, a couple of times we have come perilously close without really trying thanks to trips to Texas, California, and in Braden’s case, a band trip to Hawaii. When I received two invitations to Texas for this fall, however, I thought to myself “You know, maybe it’s time to give this a shot.”

Mind you, it was still a long shot. When I left for The Hummerbird Celebration in September I had managed to scrape together only about 260 species in Montana, Idaho, and Washington for the year, and knew I’d have to go BIG that first trip to Texas. I did, scoring about fifty Year Birds—but still left myself more than 20 birds short in perhaps the toughest time of year to bird. “Still,” I thought, “if I can somehow get ten or twelve more species on my second Texas trip, I might get within striking distance.”

I knew I would need help.

I’ll take a blurry Lifer any day—including this beautiful Brown-headed Nuthatch. By the way, this bird brought my ABA Life List to 498 birds! Only two hours later, I got number 499, Monk Parakeet! What will be 500?

My trip last week unfolded when I was invited to give a keynote address at Houston Audubon’s (HAS) annual Avian Affair fundraising gala (more on that in my next post). As you probably know I love HAS and was honored to accept, but I brazenly asked my hosts if there was a chance anyone could take me birding when I arrived. Before I knew it, a team of expert birders, all HAS board members, had been assembled with the express goal of helping me tackle my Texas “needs” list! In fact, within twenty minutes of my arrival, Bill Matthews picked me up at the airport and whisked me off to our first stop, the W.G. Jones State Forest—home to some of the state’s most accessible Red-cockaded Woodpeckers.

To be honest, I didn’t think we’d find the RCWOs since they can forage over a large area, but I was also hoping for a Life Bird, Brown-headed Nuthatch. As we began walking around the forest, we found no woodpeckers near their roosting trees, so decided to take a longer walk down a trail. Very little stirred, leaving me feeling that maybe we wouldn’t see much—until, that is, we had walked about half a mile. Then, all of a sudden, Eastern Bluebirds were flying everywhere. Other Year Birds soon surrounded us—Carolina Chickadees, a Yellow-bellied Sapsucker, Tufted Titmice, Pine Warblers, and oh joy, Brown-headed Nuthatches!

My W.G. Jones eBird List.

Though Braden and I had seen Monk Parakeets in Israel before the pandemic, this was my first ABA Monk Parakeet. Bill Matthews mentioned that the severe freeze in Texas earlier in the year had pared down the parakeets’ numbers significantly.

We left without RCWOs, but I was elated with our finds. Bill hadn’t finished with me, though, as we stopped by a roosting Eastern Screech-Owl in a neighborhood nesting box and two Monk Parakeets behind his wife’s studio. By this time, Bill’s fellow board member and well-known bird guide Glenn Olsen joined us, so after the parakeets, we adjourned to Molina’s Cantina for some great Tex-Mex food and to plan our next day’s conquests. Unfortunately, the next day proved a lot tougher than the first, but we still were able to hear a Limpkin—a rare visitor to Texas—at Sheldon Lake, and see some incredibly cool Brown Boobies on a “tower of power” at Baytown Nature Center, accompanied by yet another great birder and HAS board member, Skip Almoney.

**World’s Most Cooperative Owl? This Eastern Screech just may take the prize!**

With a total of 8 Year Birds, I was fairly satisfied as I actually did some work the following day, speaking to fifth-graders at Western Academy—and saw Year Bird #9, Scaly-breasted Munias! Glenn Olsen was not satisfied, however, so on my last morning, he picked me up early before my flight and we headed back out to W.G. Jones, meeting up with another great HAS board member, Eric Mayer, out at the site. Again, I didn’t think we’d see the woodpeckers and we didn’t. After an hour, in fact, it was time to head back to the car so Glenn could take me to the airport. As we approached the parking area, though, Glenn shouted, “Woodpecker!” I got my binoculars on a black-and-white bird landing on a pine tree and guess what? Red-cockaded Woodpecker! It was a great way to finish up a great trip, and left me with a flock of wonderful new friends—and only 11 birds to break my record. Will I make it? Good question. While in Texas, I missed four or five migrating rarities in Montana and it appears they have left the state. I will keep up my quest, however, so stay tuned!

**I was a doubter, but this Red-cockaded Woodpecker really wanted me to break my Big Year record!**

HawkWatch Spectacular!

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My recent trip to Texas offered so many rich avian experiences, I am hard-pressed to blog about them all, but one I simply must add is my first—and entirely accidental—visit to a HawkWatch site. It all began when my friend Jeanette Larson, author of the wonderful book Hummingbirds: Facts and Folklore from the Americas, suggested I bird a place I’d never heard of: Hazel Bazemore park just west of Corpus Christi. Waking up the morning after my last HummerBird Celebration event, I threw my stuff in the rental car and headed through Corpus Christi, experiencing a delay of half an hour when I encountered a shorebird-rich target area at a place called Indian Point!

Arriving at Hazel Bazemore, an unassuming park in the suburbs, I spied two people with binoculars and spotting scopes and stopped to ask them where the best places to bird might be. They suggested a couple of spots and let slip that they were there to observe migrating raptors at a platform just across from where we stood. “You can come over and hang out,” they offered, but since they weren’t set up yet, I decided to explore the rest of the park. I’m glad I did as I saw several each Couch’s Kingbirds, Baltimore Orioles, and Scissor-tailed Flycatchers, one of Braden’s and my favorite birds. Little did they prepare me for the main event!

**Braden and I have no doubt that the Scissor-tailed Flycatcher should be the Texas State Bird, but instead, their neighbor Oklahoma stole the prize designation!**

Looping back to the HawkWatch platform, I watched fascinated as the official observers picked out migrating birds from incredible distances including individual Mississippi Kites, Northern Harriers, Swainson’s Hawks, and more. Just between you and me, I have no idea how they could ID most of them, but assume that thousands of hours staring into the sky had ingrained a mastery of subtle visual and behavioral clues that betrayed each species. A few, such as a Crested Caracara, did fly close enough for me to confirm, but for most, I just had to take their word for it.

**Considering I’d just seen my Lifer Broad-winged Hawk two days before, this kettle of hundreds of Broad-wingeds pretty much gob-smacked me. Can you find the token Turkey Vulture**?

Suddenly, one of the observers shouted, “Big group of Broad-winged Hawks!” I, and several other visitors followed the direction of their scopes and, at first, I saw only clouds and blue sky. Then, I saw them—hundreds of black specks moving toward us! The hawks, accompanied by Turkey Vulture escorts, streamed directly overhead at a height of perhaps three or four thousand feet (I forgot to ask), making me forget everything except this magnificent show above me. They weren’t the last group either, as ten minutes later, another large group streamed by on the invisible river of air overhead. The second group did one better and also began circling, or “kettling”, above us, forming about as magnificent a spectacle as one can imagine. In between the two groups, a formation of about fifty Anhingas migrated by—something I didn’t even know they did, while off in the distance, more than one hundred White Pelicans also circled.

**Before this trip, I didn’t even realize that Anhingas migrated. To see a large group fly overhead was nothing short of astonishing!**

As if that weren’t enough, I also picked up my Lifer Bronzed Cowbird and ABA Lifer Buff-bellied Hummingbird at feeders next to the platform, both thanks to the keen eyes of a fellow birder who had come to join the bird spectacular. This was all enough to make me more interested in HawkWatch International activities. The organization runs or oversees dozens of sites throughout the world for scientific research purposes, including some sites in my home state of Montana, but I have never been to any. Going forward, this is something I need to change!