Category Archives: Travel

Books for the Happy Holiday Birder (FSB Shopping Guide, Part 2)

If you’re like me, you never read quite as many books as you’d like. This year, though, I was very fortunate to read and review some outstanding bird-related titles that you’re going to want to consider for your holiday buying. Most—but not all—of these were published in 2025 or late 2024. I’ve also included a few books that aren’t solely about birds—but give great insights into how to protect them. Of course, you will want to begin your shopping with eight or ten copies of my book Birding for Boomers—And Everyone Else Brave Enough to Embrace the World’s Most Rewarding and Frustrating Activity. This popular gift book has received half a dozen awards and even made a couple of bestseller’s lists. Once you’ve placed that order, however, you’ll want to check out the titles below. Please note: we receive no compensation for any of these recommendations (other than a free review copy or two), so the thoughts are all our own. Enjoy!

Purely Enjoyable Bird Storytelling

Let’s start with the “most fun” category of reading—great storytelling that just happens to be about birds. In the past, I’ve recommended such titles as Christopher Skaife’s The Ravenmaster, Joshua Hammer’s The Falcon Thief, and Tim Gallagher’s classic, Imperial Dreams. My favorite title from this year’s reading is Tim Birkhead’s The Great Auk: Its Extraordinary Life, Hideous Death and Mysterious Afterlife. This wonderful, often whimsical tale focuses on an extinct species most of us have heard of, but know little about. Birkhead gets totally into Bird Nerd mode by both explaining the biology and history of the Great Auk, and tracing some of the antics of egg collectors who were totally obsessed with obtaining Great Auk eggs. You’ll love this! See our full review here.

The Great Auk by Tim Birkhead (Bloomsbury, 2025)

Also on the short list for this category is Bruce M. Beehler’s Flight of the Godwit, a must-read for anyone interested in the remarkable lives of shorebirds—and who isn’t? Through the tales of his own peregrinations, Beehler follows the migrations of many of North America’s most charismatic shorebirds, telling us all kinds of cool things that I certainly never knew before. See our full review here.

Birding Memoirs

My top pick for this category is Christian Cooper’s 2023 book, Better Living Through Birding: Notes from a Black Man in the Natural World. I admit that I put off reading this book for a couple of years after it came out. It’s sheer popularity made me insanely jealous as an author, but once I picked it up, I was captivated. Cooper’s down-to-earth honesty about his life and passion for birds sucked me right in, both with its engaging storytelling and how it broadened my perspective on birding in our culture.

My second pick for this category is Richard L. Hutto’s new book, A Beautifully Burned Forest: Learning to Celebrate Severe Forest Fire. This book is half memoir and half science book and I enjoyed both parts equally. Perhaps as a fellow Southern Californian, I especially related to Hutto’s boyhood experiences exploring the chaparral ecosystem, but I also appreciated Hutto’s impassioned plea to bring common sense to fire management, especially when it comes to protecting burned forests from the ravages of so-called “salvage” logging. See our full review here.

Oh, and if you’re wanting to learn all about Braden’s and my early years of birding, don’t miss my classic first adult book, Warblers and Woodpeckers: A Father-Son Big Year of Birding!

In-Depth Group Guides

Advanced Bird Nerds will definitely want to add Amar Ayyash’s The Gull Guide: North America to their holiday shopping lists this year. Like most birders, I have been—and remain—incredibly intimidated by gulls. Sure, I recognize the adult plumages of many species, but when you start getting into hybrid gulls and first-, second-, and third-year plumage variations, my brain and confidence begin to melt. The Gull Guide does not solve this problem, but it does accomplish two important things. First, it gives great insight into gulls for the casual birder. Second, it offers myriad minute details for those who are bound and determined to become experts on everything gull. Both of these things are accomplished with an extensive, remarkable collection of photos that serve to educate and guide. See our full review here.

A less technical book that may be more to the taste of the casual birder is The Shorebirds of North America: A Natural History and Photographic Celebration by Pete Dunne and Kevin T. Karlson. This beautiful book strikes a nice balance between detail and readability. A lot, but not all, of the information is fairly general, but the photos are wonderful and if you’re a shorb fan, you will enjoy it. See our full review here.

Three More for the Planet

I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention three more titles that made a big impact on me this year. The first is Sea of Grass: The Conquest, Ruin, and Redemption of Nature on the American Prairie by Dave Hage and Josephine Marcotty. I thought I knew all about the tragic history of the destruction of America’s grasslands. I did not. This highly readable book provides astonishing insights into how we lost most of our grasslands—and why that destruction continues today. Grassland birds are our most imperiled group of birds, losing at least forty percent of their collective populations in just the last fifty years. If you care about these animals and want to know what we can do to slow their precipitous demise, please read this one!

Similarly, Jordan Thomas’s When It All Burns: Fighting Fire in a Transformed World, gives us an inside look at the often counterproductive politics and decision-making behind today’s “fire fighting industrial complex.” With riveting storytelling and astonishing revelations, this is a perfect companion to Hutto’s A Beautifully Burned Forest.

And if you’re wrestling with how to keep from being overwhelmed in today’s world, where we are confronted by one environmental threat after another, I highly recommend the late Thich Nhat Hanh’s Zen and the Art of Saving the Planet. I read a few pages of this every morning and I gotta say that it helps keep me sane in our complicated, highly imperiled world. Not only does it raise serious questions about how we all live, it provides approaches and encouragement for how each of us can truly make a difference.

Don’t miss our holiday guides to birding equipment and, in our next post, charitable giving!

World Series Birds in the Golden State

A happy by-product of our second child going to school in California is that Amy and I have the perfect excuse to go visit the Golden State. Not that I would ever do any birding during a family trip, but you know, it’s hard not to see some great birds when you just happen to stop at a wildlife refuge or stumble into a local park that happens to be a bright red eBird hotspot!

I was especially excited to head to California a couple of weeks ago because, as previously reported, I was perilously close to breaking my all-time single year species record of 527 birds. In fact, when Amy and I landed in Sacramento and headed up to Chico, I needed only one bird to hit 528 species for the year. What would my “go ahead bird” be? (And yes, that is an homage to the upcoming World Series, which happens to feature a team named after birds!)

Visiting our youngest in California has given me a great opportunity to see friends and get in some bonus birding!

When we arrived, I quickly finagled a couple of birding opportunities, but saw only species I had seen on our last trip to California in August: California Scrub-Jays, Acorn Woodpeckers, Yellow-rumped Warblers and the like. My biggest discovery was a White-winged Dove at the Panera’s near the hotel! It was a rare bird so far north in California’s Central Valley, but not unheard of. Still, I felt proud to have spotted the distinct white stripe across each wing as it flew—undoubtedly hoping to score one of Panera’s kitchen sink cookies!

The next morning, I headed out to the home of a close childhood friend who just happens to live outside of Chico in an agricultural area. I had almost reached her place, when I noticed birds feeding on a coyote carcass on the side of the road. I saw Turkey Vultures and ravens. Then, I saw something that got my heart racing: magpies!

My All-Time Best Year Record Breaker: Yellow-Billed Magpie! Whoo-Hoo! (Photo from earlier trip.)

Not just any magpies. I knew that the Black-billed Magpies we had back home in Montana were unlikely in this part of California. No, these were Yellow-billed Magpies—a bird I had failed to see on our last trip in August! Ka-ching! My record shattered like falling glass! And with a California endemic species no less! Personally, I couldn’t have been happier. YBMAs are some of my favorite birds, and hold an interesting history, too:

“This species was named by John James Audubon in 1837 (as Corvus nutallii, corrected the following year to nuttalli) in honor of the ornithologist Thomas Nuttall, who collected the first specimen near Santa Barbara, California. Nuttall was a prodigious botanical collector and ornithologist who authored a Manual of the Ornithology of the United States and of Canada.”Birds of the World database by Cornell Lab of Ornithology (accessed Oct. 19, 2025)

Later that day, I picked up an “insurance bird” at the Llano Seco refuge just southwest of Chico, where Amy and I delighted in Sandhill Cranes, Black-necked Stilts, and my 529th bird of the year, Greater White-fronted Goose.

Greater White-fronted Goose was a great “insurance bird” for my record-breaking year—just in case the Birding Powers That Be decided to lump a couple of species together or I found a mistake in my earlier checklists!

But my fall California birding adventures had just begun!

After a few wonderful days with our child, Amy flew home from Sacramento, and my high school buddy Scott (see Scott’s Guest Post about the Morro Bay Bird Festival), picked me up for an additional four days of exploration. As I’ve mentioned, my emphasis lately has not been so much chasing target species, but exploring places I’ve never before birded, and Scott indulged me to the hilt. After he collected me in Sacramento we explored the Sacramento River delta, hitting Cosumnes River Preserve, where we got a little shorebird action—and a LOT more Sandhill Cranes and Greater White-fronted Geese. On the following days, we hit a huge variety of habitats as we hiked through oak woodlands, explored the large abandoned—and very birdy—grounds of the Sonoma Developmental Center, and scoured rocky shores and intertidal areas in American Canyon, Golden Gate National Recreational Area, Bolinas, and Bodega Bay. I loved every location and, not surprisingly, my “insurance bird” list grew.

Scott and I enjoyed a wet hike through Sugarloaf Ridge State Park in Sonoma County and fortunately, the rain did not dissuade the birds as we sighted a host of classic oak woodland species including Oak Titmouse, Golden-crowned Sparrow, and Nuttall’s Woodpecker.

I picked up Mute Swan in American Canyon as Scott and I gleefully observed thousands of shorebirds including Western and Least Sandpipers, Long-billed Dowitchers, Marbled Godwits, and Black-bellied Plovers. That afternoon, we saw my FOY (First Of Year) White-tailed Kites at a place called Buchli Station Road.

Our adventures gave us plenty of time to learn more about peeps as we picked out the subtle details of Least and these Western Sandpipers. Note the rufous shoulder patch (not always present), black legs, and longer, curving bill that distinguishes these Westerns from Least’s.

Our favorite—and most productive—day happened October 15th. With a visit to Rodeo Lagoon, we found one of my favorite California birds, Wrentits, along with Western Gulls, which I had somehow managed not to see the entire year! At the nearby Bolinas Lagoon, we also observed hundreds of Elegant Terns and my trip MVB (Most Valuable Bird), a Whimbrel.

This Whimbrel at Bolinas Lagoon nabbed Bird of the Trip honors as it was the first WHIM I’d seen in more than six years.

Another bird I had somehow failed to see all year was Red-shouldered Hawk, but as we made our way north toward Point Reyes, Scott suddenly shouted, “Red-shouldered!” We pulled over to look at this handsome creature perched on a power line and even got to see it nab some kind of morsel from roadside weeds. The funny part? We saw four more Red-shouldered Hawks on our drive back to Scott’s house in Glen Ellen! I call that a Grand Slam!

I don’t know that I’ve ever appreciated Red-shouldered Hawks more than I did this one—especially when it launched after some prey!

One thing that made the trip so fun was eating lots of great food and kicking back to watch the MLB playoffs with Scott each evening. I hadn’t seriously watched baseball since Amy and I were still childless more than twenty years before, and it was wonderful to lean back, relax, and watch grown adults try to hit balls with sticks. Goooo Ohtani!

For our final day of birding, Scott drove me to Bodega Bay, one of my favorite places in California. While studying at Cal I had taken an ichthyology course here one summer, and now that I was a birder, the place held even more charm. On the rocks below Bodega Head, Scott and I were astonished to see a group of sixteen Surfbirds—far more than I had ever seen in one place! We also got great looks at both Brandt’s and Pelagic Cormorants, and spotted a Pigeon Guillemot in the far distance.

Since Braden and I saw our first Surfbird from a distance during our first pelagic cruise in Monterey in 2016, these birds have held a special place in our hearts. Never, though, have I seen so many in one place! (Can you also find the lone Black Turnstone in this photo?)

After a lunch of fish tacos, we headed up to the beaches north of Bodega Bay and were treated to a second Whimbrel sighting and more than 120 Surf Scoters casually ducking the breakers offshore. It was a wonderful way to wrap up the trip, and I am grateful to Scott both for being such a great host and for his patience when I was experiencing a blood sugar meltdown at Bodega Head. Of course, you may be wondering where my year list stands now, and I’m happy to report that I am now at 537 species. Will there be any more? I don’t know, but 550 seems awfully tempting, so stay tuned!

Update: Just before posting this, I picked up bird #538 for the year, Lapland Longspur, in some fields northwest of Billings!

Can one ever get tired of Surf Scoters? I don’t THINK so!

Just for fun, can you name the birds and places above? Answers in the nest—I mean next—post!

Flight of the Godwit (Book Review)

Bruce M. Beehler’s Flight of the Godwit: Tracking Epic Shorebird Migrations (Smithsonian Books, 2025)

Any birder who has aspired to learn about shorebirds will find a welcome companion in Bruce M. Beehler’s new book, Flight of the Godwit: Tracking Epic Shorebird Migrations. Shorebirds, after all, can be considered somewhat mythical, mysterious beings. Not only do many of them make remarkable annual migrations covering tens of thousands of kilometers, quite a few are notoriously difficult to identify. Certainly, Braden and I realized we had entered a more advanced stage of learning when we started to search out and try to identify shorebirds and, in fact, we both often still struggle with figuring out some of the more difficult shorebird species. Yet the more we encounter and learn about these birds, the more we love them—and that same kind of passion radiates from Beehler’s words as he sets out on his own journeys to observe and learn more about these birds.

In Montana, we are lucky to host three of the “Magnificent Seven” shorebirds as breeders—including Marbled Godwits, one of the focal birds of Beehler’s new book.

In Flight of the Godwit, Beehler recounts a series of recent adventures across the US and Canada to follow and observe shorebirds as they migrate north, stop over at resting and staging sites, settle on breeding grounds, and then head south again for their long non-breeding seasons. Although Beehler discusses all of our North American shorebirds at some point, he clearly targets what he calls the Magnificent Seven: Hudsonian Godwit, Marbled Godwit, Bar-tailed Godwit, Long-billed Curlew, Whimbrel, Bristle-thighed Curlew, and Upland Sandpiper. As he shares his encounters, he sprinkles in liberal amounts of natural history and personal experiences about these birds to make the book much more than a birder’s travelogue.

This Marbled Godwit checked us out as we were scoping shorebirds in Westby last summer.

That said, the travelogue aspects of the book are a big part of what fascinated me about this tale. Even after eleven years of birding, my shorebird experiences have been much more limited than I would like. Although my home in Montana is fortunate to host a number of breeding shorebirds—including three of the Magnificent Seven—for most shorebirds, we get only brief glimpses of them as they pass through in spring and fall. Partly because of this, Braden and I have especially sought out shorebirds on our out-of-state travels to Texas, New England, and the West Coast. Sigh. It is never enough.

It always surprises new birders that some of our largest shorebirds actually breed in grasslands—including Long-billed Curlews.

As I followed Beehler up through the Midwest during spring migration and around Alaska during breeding season, his experiences filled in giant gaps in my own experience with these remarkable birds. I got a better sense of where the birds stop to refuel and rest, and my vague impressions of their nesting territories and habits were sharpened by Beehler’s actual observations and descriptions. Many times, I found myself nodding my head thinking, Yeah, I know what he’s talking about or Oh, so that’s what they’re doing. All of this felt especially satisfying since there’s a good chance I will never experience many of Beehler’s destinations for myself.

As much time as I try to spend with shorebirds, it is never enough. Flight of the Godwit helped fill in many of the experiences I probably will never have for myself.

Those who will appreciate Flight of the Godwit the most probably are birders who have already spent time observing shorebirds and struggling over their identifications. Those with limited shorebird experience may find themselves getting a bit lost as Beehler throws out bird names that may seem a bit abstract without solid brain images to connect them to. Still, there’s a good chance that even beginning “shorbers” will find that Beehler’s tales of adventure excite them to plunge more deeply into this remarkable set of birds. As for intermediate and advanced birders—especially those who may never get to Alaska or follow spring migration through the Midwest—I highly recommend this intriguing book that is not only a valuable educational document, but a labor of love with which many of us can relate.

You can order Flight of the Godwit from almost any outlet that sells books—but why not visit your local independent bookstore and order it there? Another easy way to do this is through the online website Bookshop.org.

Records and Road Trips

Need a good book to read? Birding for Boomers recently racked up its fifth award of the year and has been a hit at indie bookstores throughout the West. Why not help support our efforts at FatherSonBirding by picking up a new copy of “Boomers” or one of Sneed’s other books? Just click on one of the images to the right.

After a slow start, August saw the Collard family shift into hyperdrive as Braden drove to Southern California to take a job as a nature guide and camp counselor, and Amy and I saddled up the minivan to drive Tessa to her freshman year of college at Cal State Chico. Braden left a few days early so that he could bird the summer heat of Arizona before arriving at his job. It seemed like a (heat) rash thing to do, but his efforts paid off as he saw 201 species and scored 9, count ‘em, NINE Lifers! These included Montezuma and Scaled Quail, Lucifer Hummingbird, Buff-breasted Flycatcher, Gray Vireo, Cassia Crossbill, and Rufous-winged, Botteri’s, and Cassin’s Sparrow. Just listing the above stats, in fact, makes me hesitant to bring up my own relatively modest birding luck driving to California—but let’s back up a second.

Our drive to California—complete with a stop in Ashland, Oregon—promised to prove crucial to my quest to break my own one-year species record of 527 species. (Sadly, I did not pick up any Year Birds while watching this Shakespeare play!)

As mentioned in previous posts, both of us Collards are having record-breaking years. Braden’s World Species total for 2025 sits at an astonishing 833 species, thanks not only to trips to Mexico and Costa Rica, but his cross-country drives to Montana from Maine and his recent journey to California via Arizona. As for moi, when last I reported (see our post “Swift-ecta!”), I needed twenty birds to break my all-time one-year World Species total of 527. The thing is, twenty species this late in the year was looking a bit dicey. While it might be possible to pick up twenty more species here in Montana, I was counting on the drive to California to put a major dent in that number. Nonetheless, I birded hard before our departure and by the time we hit the road, my year total had crept upward to 512, leaving only sixteen species to break my record.

Normally, I would have thought, “Piece of cake,” especially since I hadn’t visited any West Coast states so far in 2025. But not so fast. Remember that little winter trip Amy planned for us last January (see post “Birding Victoria, BC”)? Well, believe it or not, in Victoria I had already nabbed Bushtits, Anna’s Hummingbirds, and Chestnut-backed Chickadees, removing three potential gimmes from the California trip. Even my Colombia trip with Roger (see post “Antpittas and Tody-Flycatchers”) had allowed me to pick up Acorn Woodpecker and Lesser Goldfinch, removing those bird potentials as well.

The birds of Colombia, including this stunning Toucan Barbet, seen on Roger’s and my trip, are one reason my single year species record has crept tantalizingly to within reach.

Nonetheless, I remained cautiously optimistic as Amy, Tessa, and I hit I-90 for our first stop of the trip, Portland, Oregon. We would spend only two nights there, but I wasted no time, getting up early the first morning to hit Broughton Beach along the Columbia River. My goal was to find cool shorebirds, and I did find both Least and Western Sandpipers—but no Year Birds. While there, though, I met a very nice birder named Ted who told me about another cool spot, Force Lake, and I decided to head over there. I was rewarded by Long-billed Dowitchers and Red-necked Phalaropes—but again, no Year Birds. In fact, the only Year Birds I nabbed in Portland were California Scrub-Jay in the backyard of my in-laws and Black Phoebe at another new spot I visited, Whitaker Ponds Nature Park. As we rolled out of Portland, I hoped that the rest of the trip would prove more productive.

I got turned on to Force Lake by another Portland area birder. It’s a place I’ll return to often, as it offers the best shorebird habitat I’ve found in Portland. Alas, it yielded no Year Birds on our recent trip.

Our next stop was Ashland, Oregon, where Amy had bought us tickets for the Shakespeare play The Merry Wives of Windsor and the musical Into the Woods. Both were excellent productions, but I felt so sleepy I barely made it through them without crashing to floor. Our first morning there, though, I hit another new birding spot, Emigrant Lake (South Shore). Here, I managed to nab three more Year Birds: Oak Titmouse, Bewick’s Wren, and California Towhee. My biggest surprise were a pair of Nashville Warblers. In fact, it’s been a great year for learning about these birds as I saw them migrating through Texas last April and now, making the return migration through California. (Though I must point out that this species has an unusual “bifurcated” distribution so the birds in Texas and California probably came from separate, distinct populations.)

Finding Nashville Warblers along the shore of Emigrant Lake was one of the day’s best surprises.

Chico greeted us with 104-degree temperatures, less than ideal for birding. Our major goal here, of course, was to get Tessa settled into university housing, but you know me. My first morning, I was up at dawn to explore Hooker Oak Park, a great city park I’d discovered when first bringing Tessa to check out Chico (see post “College Search Birding in California”) in 2024. This morning, the park did not disappoint. One of my favorite birds, Acorn Woodpeckers, were flying everywhere and I had a wonderful encounter with Anna’s and Rufous Hummingbirds, who put on a real show for me in a dry riverbed. As far as Year Birds go, however, my only score was a bird that happened to earn Bird of the Trip honors.

I recorded more than two dozen Acorn Woodpeckers in Chico’s Hook Oak Park. Good thing they are one of my favorite birds!

As I was leaving the hummingbirds and walking back down the dry wash, I glanced up at a medium-sized black bird landing high in the top of a pine tree. The bird showed a distinctive, tall peak on its head like it had styled its feathers with pomade, and at first I thought, “Is that a Stellar’s Jay?” Though I knew STJAs were common in the adjacent mountains, it didn’t seem likely that they’d be here on California’s Central Valley floor. However, as I stared at the bird—and three others that joined it—a wave of delight crept over me. I was looking at Phainopeplas!

I love that the orange throat patch of this Rufous Hummingbird looks like an upside-down heart! Several of the birds were aggressively chasing each other—and a few Anna’s that were around.

At first I didn’t believe it. While I knew that Phainopeplas lived in Southern California, I’d only ever seen the birds in Arizona and here in Chico they seemed wonderfully out of place. Quickly calling up Merlin on my phone, however, the range map showed a tiny, seasonal finger stretching up the Central Valley—and stopping almost exactly where I was standing!

With their surprise appearance in Chico, Phainopeplas easily nabbed Bird of the Trip honors for our sojourn to Chico.

These, of course, are the moments a birder lives for—amazing surprises in new places—and the encounter put a bounce in my step as I returned to the hotel for a day of getting Tessa ready for college. Alas, the PHAIs were the last Year Bird I managed to find on the trip. I returned to Montana at 520 species for my Year List. Since then, I’ve managed to add Clark’s Grebe to my list, but that still falls seven short of breaking my record.

Will I make it? Do I have any surprise opportunities up my sleeve to put me over the top? And what of Braden? Could he reach that magical 1,000 number for the year? Well, you know the answer: you’ll just have to keep reading to find out!

A fun visit to Emigrant Lake south of Ashland, Oregon helped nudge me closer to breaking my all-time one-year species count record—but not close enough!

Redstart Rendezvous at Sears Island, Maine (Maine to Montana, Part 3)

Today, we are pleased to offer the third in Braden’s series about his adventures driving across the country from Maine to Montana. Already, it’s been an incredible birding journey—and he’s not even out of Maine! Sneed is also pleased to announce that two of his books, Birding for Boomers and Like No Other, have been named finalists for the High Plains International Book Awards. We hope some of you Montana residents will join Sneed for the celebration and to crown the winners at the awards ceremony in Billings on October 4th!

I had never seen so many American Redstarts. The birches and maples standing on the northern tip of Sears Island, at times, had more warblers on their branches than leaves. According to Wesley Hutchins, this was the norm for Sears Island during spring, and part of the reason why he’d been wanting to bring me here since we’d become friends four years ago.

I’d met Wes a month or two after arriving at the University of Maine, and thanks to the hours and days we’d spent together exploring the forests and coasts of the state, I now considered him one of my closest friends. Wes and I kept in close contact during the summers when we worked out-of-state (California and Pennsylvania for me, New York for him), keeping each other updated on all of the awesome birds we were seeing around the country. He’d graduated a year before me, but still visited UMaine every week to spend time with me and his other friends there. I had never visited his hometown of Belfast, however, despite it being only an hour away from the campus where I’d gone to college. This week, I was bent on changing that, and now here I was birding the spots that he’d fallen in love with over the last few years.

Selfie of me and Wes at one of his favorite birding spots, Sears Island, Maine.

“It’s really weird seeing you here—in the good way!” Wes admitted, and I nodded. I’m sure I would feel the same way once I finally convinced him to visit me in Montana.

We’d spent the previous evening walking around Belfast Harbor, a pleasant little cove tucked away into the side of Maine’s midcoast region and another one of Wes’s favorite birding spots. This morning, however, he’d taken me to Sears Island, Waldo County’s best birding hotspot and a prime location to see migrating warblers. Upon setting foot on the island, I began to notice warblers—redstarts, a Chestnut-sided, a Northern Waterthrush—but nothing out of the ordinary. I’d been seeing warblers like this all week. We wandered a bit, down into the forested center of the island, but things stayed eerily quiet. After about twenty minutes, Wes turned to me and said, “We should go back to the northern point. That’s usually where all the action is.”

Unlike the other warblers, Sears Island’s Ovenbirds were keeping pretty quiet on the day Wes and I visited.

I felt skeptical. I much prefer walking around to staying in one spot to bird, but Wes had the local knowledge so I followed his lead. We walked back and we immediately began to see birds we hadn’t seen just twenty minutes ago—a Blackburnian Warbler and a couple of Magnolias. Then, I looked up.

In the sky above us floated dozens of warblers, all seeping and chipping as they struggled to combat the winds rushing over the island. Many of the birds faced north, while others zoomed in from the north, landing in the trees directly to our right and left. We stationed ourselves directly in front of a flowering apple tree that seemed to be overflowing the warblers and began calling things out.

“I’ve got two Magnolias on the same branch.”

“Is that a Tenness—no, it’s just a REVI.”

“Here’s our third Wilson’s of the day, a nice male!”

“Six redstarts in this one tree alone. Scratch that, seven.”

One of approximately one hundred American Redstarts we counted at Sears Island.

What we were experiencing was a river of warblers. Every three minutes or so, the birds we’d been staring at would vacate and be replaced by new birds dropping in from above, all slowly making their way toward the causeway that connected Sears Island to the mainland. One in every three warblers was an American Redstart, and there were easily hundreds of warblers. Mixed in with the warblers were small numbers of other species: vireos, flycatchers, a couple Rose-breasted Grosbeaks. It was exactly the experience I’d hoped to have when I’d signed up to go to school on the east coast. The West doesn’t do songbird migration like the East does, especially when it comes to warblers. Montana has fourteen regularly-occurring species of warblers. On Sears Island, we’d seen fourteen species in a matter of minutes.

Rose-breasted Grosbeaks added further spice to an incredible wave of warblers migrating in!

My focus had been warblers the whole week, in fact, with the notable exception of the Acadia Puffin Cruise (see our recent post, Puffin Party). Just a day or two earlier, I’d spent two nights in Portland, Maine, with my good friend Hayden Page. We’d birded hard, visiting many of Maine’s famous birding hotspots like Scarborough Marsh, Laudholm Farm and Portland’s urban Capisic Park. The morning we’d hit Laudholm Farm had been incredible, with 81 species at the preserve including seventeen warbler species and a White-eyed Vireo, a rarity this far north. At an airport in Brunswick, Main, we’d also chased a Blue-winged Warbler—another southerner not supposed to be here. In the coming decades it wasn’t hard to imagine both the vireo and the warbler showing up more and more frequently in Maine thanks to warming temperatures and changes in habitat.

A Blue-winged Warbler—an unusual migrant that may become much more common in Maine as global temperatures warm.

The week had also exposed me to the diversity of Maine’s habitats. Living in Bangor during the colder months, my impressions of the state had mostly been of woods. And it is true that Maine has woods—it’s the most forested state in the country. But southern Maine, especially, holds its fair share of unique ecosystems. Kennebunk Plains Preserve, which I’d visited twice this spring, is a patch of grassland with Vesper and Grasshopper Sparrows and Eastern Meadowlarks. It is regularly burned to keep shrubs and trees from encroaching on it. Grassland used to be far more common in the state, following the intensive logging of the 1800 and 1900s, but now that the forest had grown back Kennebunk Plains was one of the only spots for certain species to be found.

Scarborough Marsh, which my dad and I had visited when we’d come out to Maine in fall of 2021 (see this post), held the largest chunk of salt marsh in the state. This habitat, which looks like a savannah floating on the edge of the sea, is also threatened, both in the state and worldwide, thanks to rising sea levels. The birds that live here include Willets and Saltmarsh Sparrows, the latter of which was the focus of my Honors Thesis Project and is one of North America’s most endangered birds. 

A Willet, one of our most common large shorebirds, at Scarborough Marsh.

Southern Maine is also a prime location for sandy beaches, and both the birds and the tourists know it. Maine’s coastal towns go from sleepy and affordable in winter to bustling and expensive during the summer, when Americans from all over flock to them to enjoy the summer. This has created problems with the wildlife that depend on sandy beaches as their homes, namely the Piping Plover and Least Tern, two species who spend their days hunting for invertebrates along the coastline and breed in the grassy dunes just upland of the beach. Thankfully, the state of Maine has put in a lot of work to close off these dunes to tourists and their destructive dogs, allowing the birds to nest in a fragile security. At Pine Point, just five minutes from Scarborough Marsh, Hayden and I got to watch a trio of Piping Plovers chasing each other around the beach at close range. It was also at Pine Point that I got to see my lifer Roseate Terns, along with the more common Least and Commons. 

Keeping Piping Plover populations going requires careful monitoring and protection from the swarms of people and dogs crowding East Coast beaches each summer.

Though I’d always joked about the cold weather, lack of mountains, and isolation of Maine, I was certainly going to miss the state I’d spent four years getting to know. The places AND the people. This was especially present in my mind after giving Wes a hug goodbye and driving away from Belfast, from the University, and from some of the best friends I’d ever made. I would make sure to see them again, though it would never quite be the same. Thankfully, I had one more night to spend in Maine before leaving, though it wouldn’t be in the comfort of a friend’s air mattress. No, I was headed for the last county I’d never visited in the state: Franklin County, the land of wind, mountains and moose. 

To learn more about Sears Island and the ongoing fight over developing it, click here: https://friendsofsearsisland.org/wind-port-fact-sheet/ 

Sears Island provided just the kind of warbler experience I’d been hoping for my past four years in Maine. (For those confused by the above photo, it is not Sears Island, but just a fun travel photo from that week in Maine.)