Category Archives: Urban Birding

Crossbill Sunday: the Final Day of Birding Therapy Week

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To wrap up Birding Therapy Week, I leaped onto my bike Sunday morning and pedaled to a spot I’d been sorely neglecting this year: the Missoula Cemetery. One thing that got me through the first year of the pandemic was cycling out there on a regular basis just to see what was flitting around. I’d ended 2020 with a total of 50 species, firmly cementing my position of Cemetery King, and seeing many surprising birds as a result. Braden and I had ventured out there once this winter and been rewarded with a flock of Common Redpolls, but I needed to get out there again before the trees fully leafed out, making it difficult to spot passerines.

As usual, I parked near the entrance to put in my hearing aids, grab a drink of water, and stretch out before beginning my tour. As I tried to loosen my hamstrings, however, I was already hearing some interesting sounds. “Hm . . . maybe Pine Siskins?” That’s when I looked up to see a flock of 20+ Red Crossbills! Not only was this a new sight for the cemetery, just that morning we’d seen our first ever crossbills at our backyard feeder. In fact, this was shaping up to be our best crossbill year yet, and I spent a solid 15 minutes enjoying the cemetery flock, which also contained liberal doses of Pine Siskins and a Yellow-rumped Warbler.

The wonky bills of Red Crossbills have evolved to pry open cone scales, allowing the birds’ long tongues to extract the hidden seeds.

Setting off through the tombstones on my bicycle, I wasn’t sure what else I’d find, but encountered other common cemetery birds such as robins, ravens, and flickers, but it was a weird morning, a bit cool and breezy and I began to lose hope that I’d see the unusual passerines I really craved. Turning on to the last access road, however, I stopped to investigate a couple of little birds that turned out to be House Finches. But among them, I spotted a flash of yellow—a Nashville Warbler!  

Two (Yellow-rumped and Nashville) warblers were better than none, but I always can’t help feeling a large place like the Missoula Cemetery should attract many more of the “delicate” species than it does.

Alas, I failed to find any sparrows in the spot I’d seen both Song and White-throated Sparrows before, but I did get my Year Brewer’s Blackbird and a new “location bird”—Turkey Vulture—while racking up a total of 17 species. All of which left me satisfied—but not really.

One thing Braden and I have noticed during the past seven years of birding is how much better many of our public open spaces could be for birds, insects, and other wildlife. The Missoula Cemetery is a great example. I mean, it potentially has everything: lots of land, trees, even a fountain, and the dedicated staff obviously works hard to keep it looking nice. Unfortunately, the place is groomed to death—literally. Dead limbs and trees that could provide insect food for birds are meticulously removed. Messy brush—the stuff many songbirds love—is absolutely not tolerated. I could smell some kind of chemical—weed killer, I’m guessing—emanating from the lawns. Even the fountain where birds could drink is blue from some kind of bleach or detergent in it.

American Robins seem to thrive in almost any urban environment, but many more sensitive species need more habitat—and fewer herbicides & pesticides—than many parks and other open spaces provide.

Sadly, this is a situation that repeats itself over and over across America. Our vision of what is nice, neat, and orderly actually represents an extremely unhealthy environment, one that is undoubtedly harmful to wildlife and perhaps humans as well. No one really is to blame. It’s in our nature to want to make things neat and orderly. However as our knowledge has improved, this is something we as citizens can change. As I wrapped up Birding Therapy Week, I promised myself that I would redouble my efforts both to educate others and perhaps change some of our outdated thinking about both our personal and public open spaces.

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!

Winter Birding in Israel, Part 1: Neighborhood Birding

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Alert: the hackers are back. We’ve had a number of suspicious sign ups recently so if you really have subscribed in the last three months, please shoot Sneed a confirmation email at collard@bigsky.net and I will make sure that you stay subscribed. Meanwhile, feel free to share this post with all the wonderful birders in your lives. Thanks!

If you are an avid fan of FatherSonBirding—and let’s face it, who isn’t?—you’ll know that Braden and I recently had an adventure of a lifetime in Israel and Jordan. Over the next few posts, we’d like to share that adventure, starting with ordinary neighborhood birding, and what any casual visitor might expect to see in Israel in January.

The Hooded Crow not only was our first Israeli bird, it was one that would provide constant entertainment and companionship throughout our trip.

Before flying to the Holy Land, Braden and I had already learned the value of studying up on birds of a new area, so when our flight touched down in Tel Aviv at 2 a.m., we hit the ground running. Well, sort of. First, we got on a train and traveled to our friends’ house in the pleasant coastal town of Binyamina. As soon as we’d showered and eaten breakfast, our hosts’ 14-year-old son, Noam, led us out on a tour of the neighborhood.

Now, I have to preface this by saying that Israel is the only place I know where if you go out birding, you not only have a chance of encountering some amazing historic site, you are almost guaranteed it. Only a block from his house, Noam led us to a remarkable Ottoman well that was 400-plus years old. Braden and I would have been more in awe if we weren’t already mesmerized by the variety of birds we were seeing! Our first Israeli bird? Hooded Crow, a handsome and charismatic corvid that would become a regular companion on our trip. This was soon followed by other delights including Great Tits, White-spectacled Bulbuls, Graceful Prinias, and Common Chiffchaffs, none of which we really expected to see! The most “crowd-pleasing?” The Palestinian Sunbird, an analog to American hummingbirds. We saw several, in fact, hovering to slurp up the nectar of some bright red flowers.

The Middle East’s “hummingbird”, the Palestinian Sunbird. The convergence of both habits and appearance of these guys with our own hummers is remarkable.

Once we passed the Ottoman well, we headed out to open farmland where we encountered a totally different suite of birds, starting with the same Rose-ringed Parakeets we’d seen in Amsterdam literally hours before (see our post “Layover Birding in Amsterdam”). Here we also encountered a charming little flycatcher called the European Stonechat—another frequent companion for our next two weeks. In the distance, we saw our first Black-winged Kite and Common Buzzard—Europe’s “Red-tailed Hawk.” Near a pond, we spotted several Glossy Ibis in flight and then came the punctuation of our first birding experience: a flight of four Great White Pelicans that flew right over us.

Besides having a great name, the European Stonechat is a great behavioral study as it behaves very similarly to American flycatchers.

Our first bird list totaled a satisfying twenty-one species, many of which we wouldn’t have recognized if we hadn’t done our homework ahead of time. Best of all, there was much, much more to come! Stay tuned . . .

The appearance of pelicans overhead both floored and delighted us!

Layover Birding in Amsterdam

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Happy 2020 Fellow Birders! It’s been a while since our last post but that doesn’t mean we’ve been idle. In fact, we just arrived back in the country after a month-long adventure to the Middle East—something which will occupy at least our next four or five posts. Before we get to the Levant, however, we want to share some birds on the way—in, you guessed it, Amsterdam!

Birding Amsterdam’s Vondelpark was the perfect way to kick off our Middle East adventure!

Our flights were set up so that we got an eight-hour layover in the Netherlands, and you can bet we took advantage of it. As soon as our plane landed, we raced through immigration and customs, caught a train to Amsterdam’s Central Station and then a trolley out to what looked like our best birding opportunity, Vondelpark. As we entered the enormous urban landscape, clouds and chilly temperatures greeted us, but no rain, so we were in birding business. As fast as you can say “Common Wood-Pigeon”, our Life Lists exploded.

Rose-ringed Parakeets? In Amsterdam? Hard to believe, but yes–in abundance!

Braden and I had done our due diligence by studying eBird lists for Amsterdam prior to the trip, but we were still blown away by how many of the birds actually appeared in front of us. They included the European versions of some of America’s common birds—Eurasian Moorhen, Eurasian Coot, Gray Heron, and Eurasian Magpie—but soon we also saw the more specialized residents. The first was a big surprise: European Greenfinch. These were followed by Eurasian Blackbirds, Eurasian Jackdaws, Eurasian Jays, Carrion Crows, and a prized trio of tits: Great, Blue, and Long-tailed.

Tits are basically the Euro versions of our chickadees—and every bit as cute, as these Blue and Long-tailed Tits demonstrate!

But you know me. At the top of my “To See” list was the Great Spotted Woodpecker, the only possible woodpecker in the vicinity. After an hour, we still hadn’t seen one when Braden suddenly swiveled and pointed. “Woodpecker!” Unfortunately, the bird was high-tailing it away from us, but we saw it land in a tree at the far side of the park. “After it!” I shouted and we raced across the park. The lighting was terrible, but the bird stayed just long enough for some decent looks. BOO-YAH!

This Great Cormorant was a real surprise in Vondelpark.

Our birding expedition wrapped up with a look at a Eurasian Wren, a Redwing, and some great quality time with European Robins—both Braden’s and my “Bird of the Day.” Then it was off to get warm and take a quick tour of the Van Gogh Museum. No offense to the great artist, but it seemed oddly anticlimactic after the living art we’d seen in the park.

Some great hang time made the European Robin our Bird of the Day. Look for them in movies filmed in Europe!

Take a look at our complete checklist here:

https://ebird.org/checklist/S62703700

Hard Birding in Houston

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If you’ve been following this blog at all you know that Braden and I love birding Texas. Not only does the Lone Star State offer a delicious smorgasbord of temperate and tropical bird species, it provides an equally delicious variety of food, from Tex-Mex to BBQ. Little wonder I jumped at the chance to lead a professional development workshop for teachers there last week. I quickly learned, however, that birding in Texas in June is a far cry from birding there almost any other time of year.

I don’t know about you, but I’m getting sick of Houston’s annual “Hundred-Year Floods”, which, among other things, wreak havoc with birding plans!

I should have guessed that birding would be tough when my flight down got diverted to San Antonio for four hours because of thunderstorms over Houston, eliminating an entire afternoon of birding I had planned. Nonetheless, I scored some great Tex-Mex food at Gringo’s that night and the workshop the next day went fabulously well. The following morning, I optimistically set off early to check out Brazos Bend State Park, which I raved about in last year’s post Winter Birding at Brazos. Unfortunately, at the entrance I was greeted with a giant sign informing me that the park was closed because of recent flooding.

The flooding did afford me some close-up looks at White Ibises, including this juvenile, which was foraging on the flooded lawns of Bear Creek Pioneers Park.

“What?” I exclaimed, outraged. At least the drive there and back proved fruitful as I spotted a Crested Caracara and Scissor-tailed Flycatcher, along with an impressive display of Cliff Swallows at a bridge. Alas, I found more flooding at my next stop, Bear Creek Pioneers Park. I walked around for more than an hour and managed some great looks at White Ibises and a Red-bellied Woodpecker, but by then temperatures were edging past 90 with a heat index above 100. I wiped my brow and muttered, “I’m good for one more spot. Then it’s back to the hotel to watch HBO.”

For my last birding gasp, I chose one of Braden’s and my favorite Texas birding spots—Jesse H. Jones Park & Nature Center. I guzzled a pint of water, donned my hat and insect repellent, and set out to see if any birds could actually survive in Houston’s legendary heat and humidity. Not much stirred, but I had a fun encounter with Carolina Wrens and two separate experiences with one of my favorite Texas birds, Red-headed Woodpeckers—including a juvenile that had just fledged. The woodpeckers didn’t entirely make up for the day, but they helped—along with seafood enchiladas and a margarita at Gringo’s!

It’s hard to complain too much about a day that presented not one, but five Red-headed Woodpeckers. A former Team Collard nemesis bird, Braden and I first tallied RHWOs at this same park in 2016!

Before my flight home the next day, I had one more mission—to meet with biologist Donna Work at the W.G. Jones State Forest. The forest is the best place near Houston to learn about and observe endangered Red-cockaded Woodpeckers. Populations of these interesting birds have declined over the decades, mainly due to the destruction or replacement of the longleaf pines that they prefer to nest in. Donna met me just as dawn light reached across the sky and we chatted about all things woodpeckers while hoping to see the birds leave their roosting holes.

Biologist Donna Work was kind enough to meet me at 5:45 a.m. to observe Red-cockaded Woodpeckers at W.G. Jones State Forest and tell me about their management in a place now surrounded by suburbs. The green paint marks trees the birds use or have recently used for roosting or nesting.

We missed the birds’ exit, but did glimpse them in the trees overhead. Donna explained that the forest hosts about four RCWO family groups and that nesting success varies year to year. This year, the group we were watching had fledged only a single chick. I asked her if the birds would survive without active management. “No,” she replied, explaining that the birds were too isolated from other RCWO populations to avoid getting inbred. To make up for this, forest managers bring in woodpeckers from other areas to breed with the resident birds. The forest itself also requires active management to mimic the natural fire regime that maintains conditions conducive to the woodpeckers. Despite the tough birding, I left Texas with my belly full, and felt glad that so many people are working hard to protect Texas’s avian treasures.