Be sure to catch Sneed at the Montana Festival of the Book on Friday, September 8. He will be on a panel at 11:30, followed by his own session about his recent books Waiting for a Warbler and Border Crossings at 1:15. The following Monday, Flathead Audubon will be hosting Sneed for a presentation. Hope to see you there!
This past Friday, Braden and I set out on a quest for a bird that has steadfastly evaded my life list: Spruce Grouse. In truth, I’ve probably seen one of these birds before—but long before I became a birder—and Braden wanted to help me officially nail it down before he headed back to Maine for his junior year of college. To try to find it we decided to explore a road we’d never before birded—the road up to Garnet Ghost Town, a once thriving mining community about ten miles off of Highway 200. Spoiler alert: we didn’t find a Spruce Grouse. What we did find proved to be a lot more interesting.
As I’ve mentioned before, Braden and I used to pretty much write off August as a good birding month. In recent years, shorebirds especially have shown us that this was an egregious mistake. As far as passerines are concerned, however, we retained our bad August attitude. After all, our typical birding areas around Missoula get eerily quiet in August—almost as if all of the birds have gone on vacation. Turns out they aren’t on vacation. They’re working hard—at a little bit different elevation.
As we turned off of the highway, the road to Garnet began climbing in elevation. We saw a few robins and flickers from our car, but in these kinds of situations, you really don’t know what’s around unless you stop, get out, and listen. After a few miles, we did exactly that—and were amazed by what we found. In what is always a good sign, Mountain Chickadees were sounding off, and as we always hope, a lot of other species accompanied them. We quickly spotted MacGillivray’s, Yellow-rumped, and Orange-crowned Warblers—and a warbler that had stubbornly eluded my crummy ears all year, Townsend’s Warbler!
While I failed to capture a nice photo, I was thrilled to actually see my first Townsend’s Warbler of 2023.
Along with the warblers, Williamson’s Sapsuckers and a Hairy Woodpecker put on a good show, along with Evening Grosbeaks, Canada Jays, Warbling and Cassin’s Vireos, Pine Siskins, and a whole slew of Chipping Sparrows, Western Tanagers, and Ruby-crowned Kinglets. Braden’s excellent ears also detected Golden-crowned Kinglets and a Brown Creeper—the first I’d managed to see all year.
Scads of “Rickies” (Ruby-crowned Kinglets) swarmed the forest edges near Garnet—which explains why they haven’t been in our yard lately!
Our next stop a mile or two later gave up an even greater encounter. We saw a bunch of birds heading away from the road so decided to follow them. As a trio of Canada Jays entertained us, we heard a woodpecker methodically pecking away and Braden went to search for it. “Three-toed!” he excitedly called, looking up at a backlit bird high in a tree. Though the yellow head marking was clearly visible, it actually turned out to be an even more surprising bird—a Black-backed Woodpecker, the first I’d ever seen outside a burn area! The habitat made sense, though, as burns weren’t too far away and a lot of dead trees seemed ready to give up beetle grubs.
This Black-backed Woodpecker both delighted and surprised us with its unexpected location outside of a burn area.
Thrilled with this discovery, we continued onto Garnet Ghost Town. Like most ghost towns, this one has an interesting story. It went from gold boom to bust between approximately 1895 to 1905, and at its peak was home to about a thousand people. By around 1948, the last hangers-on abandoned the town. Thanks to dedicated preservation efforts, however, Garnet today boasts that it is “Montana’s Best-Preserved Ghost Town” and, indeed, the remaining buildings seem in remarkably good shape. Even better, the town sits in a stunning location, surrounded by forests and, even at this time of year, green meadows.
In addition to having a fascinating history, Garnet Ghost Town sits in one of the loveliest spots in Montana.
After exploring the town for a few minutes, Braden and I decided to walk a loop trail in a last effort to find a Spruce Grouse. Again, no grouse. We did walk by plenty of caved-in mine shafts, however, and encountered even more cool birds. These included another Williamson’s Sapsucker, a Vaux’s Swift, and two Olive-sided Flycatchers! Then, a Common Night-hawk called above us and we spotted a second one perched in a tree. Garnet, though, had one more treasure for us.
One of four Williamson’s Sapsuckers we observed near Garnet Ghost Town.
As we neared the end of the loop trail, we saw a bird flitting about on a log. I didn’t at first recognize it, but Braden’s many hours of study paid off. “It’s a Townsend’s Solitaire—and in its ‘pine cone’ plumage!” he exclaimed. I had never heard of the pine cone plumage, but sure enough, this juvenile bird sported a pattern distinctly different from the smoother coloration of the adults. I can best describe it as, well, uh . . . a pine cone!
The “pine cone bird”—our first juvenile Townsend’s Solitaire! What a beauty, huh?
We admired the bird for many minutes and then headed back to our trusty minivan. It had been an outing that far exceeded our expectations, and had proved highly educational. I had heard from Dick Hutto and other biologists that many birds head up to higher elevations to hunt and forage after their babies have fledged, but this was the first time I could remember coming face to face with them—and in such numbers! Though we knew birds continue to face many threats, our experience today made Braden and I both feel better about the state of Montana’s birds, and we excitedly added the Garnet area to our permanent August “must do” birding locations.
I had thought about everything I needed for the two-day trip to Cape May, New Jersey. Tent and sleeping supplies, check. Food and water, check. Cash for toll roads, check. Nothing could go wrong, right? And then, I turned on the field vehicle and promptly backed it into a fence post.
Thankfully, as my crew leader Tyler Hodges assured me later, the damage was limited to some paint marks and a small crack on the plastic on the end of the Jeep, and I was soon on my way, navigating Pennsylvania and New Jersey highways as I headed east, then south. My days off this summer would be limited to one per week, which meant any and all birding trips would have to be quick, even more so than last summer. This one, my first of the summer, was just about as quick as possible, as I planned to spend the night in southern New Jersey and drive back to the Pocono Mountains of northeastern Pennsylvania the following afternoon. I had rarely driven this far on my own, so I made sure to take as many breaks as necessary as I drove south. One of these included a fifteen-minute rest at a place called Cheesequake State Park in northern New Jersey, which produced a very cooperative Great Crested Flycatcher, calling on top of an exposed branch as I walked into the park bathroom. Good birds already!
Edwin B. Forsythe National Wildlife Refuge with “America’s Playground”, Atlantic City, on the horizon.
At around 2 p.m., I pulled into Edwin B. Forsythe National Wildlife Refuge, the birding hotspot that had originally caught my eye and led me to take this trip. The primary target birds I had here were Gull-billed Terns, one of the last common North American terns I had yet to see. These odd-looking terns lived on coasts all over the world, and this wildlife refuge was their most northern colony in North America. As I paid my entry fee and started the loop drive around the refuge, I could quickly see why the terns loved it here. An expansive saltmarsh sprawled before me, interspersed with patches of open water and exposed mudflats. I could see both the skyscrapers of Atlantic City and the blue horizon of the Atlantic Ocean in the distance. I had timed my visit so that I would arrive during the low tide, targeting a group of birds that my dad and I always seem to be chasing: shorebirds. Sure enough, the mudflats in front of me were covered in them. Hundreds of tiny Semipalmated Sandpipers probed the mud, extracting invertebrates with their bills. A buzzy song came from the grasses on the opposite bank from me, and I lifted my binoculars to reveal a male Seaside Sparrow, belting his little heart out. I’d gotten my lifer Seaside Sparrow last year in Florida, but these were far better views, which would continue to improve throughout the day.
A banded American Oystercatcher.
As I continued driving, the birds just kept coming. Semipalmated Sandpipers were not the only shorebirds taking advantage of the exposed mud, although they were by far the most numerous. I was granted close views of Short-billed Dowitchers, Dunlin, Ruddy Turnstones and Black-bellied and Semipalmated Plovers, all in their sharp breeding plumages. I spotted a Black-necked Stilt in one pond, an apparently rare bird here, and was treated to a few looks at a Whimbrel flock as it lifted from a field and flew over me. Later on during the drive, I added Least Sandpiper and both yellowlegs to my list. Almost all of these birds were on the move, having stopped here to refuel on their way to their arctic breeding grounds. There were a few resident shorebirds around, too, including the “Saltmarsh” Willet (a subspecies I had never seen before) and a single, banded American Oystercatcher in a ditch on the side of the road.
Apparently I had hit Edwin B. Forsythe at the perfect time, because all of the saltmarsh birds were out to play. Along with the Seaside Sparrows, I also glimpsed a few Saltmarsh Sparrows, a bird that I’d last seen with my dad in Massachusetts two summers prior. I had also spent my spring semester at the University of Maine working for Dr. Kate Ruskin, a Saltmarsh Sparrow researcher, so it was really cool to see the species that much of my work had revolved around! Unfortunately, this species is expected to go extinct by 2060 due to climate change-induced sea level rise, which would wipe out its entire nesting habitat. Lots of work is being done on the species, however, and hopefully some solutions arise to combat their disappearance. Along with the sparrows, I also was treated to fabulous looks at a Clapper Rail out in the open, and nearly double-digit numbers of Ospreys.
Saltmarsh Sparrows are some of the birds most threatened by rising sea levels due to climate change.
But the real treat at Edwin B. Forsythe was the terns. Forster’s Terns seemed to be in charge around here, and I saw dozens of them, plunge-diving into the shallow water for fish and resting on mudflats. There were also Least Terns, the smallest terns in the world, and one Caspian Tern, the world’s largest tern, providing great looks. One crowd of birders revealed a large flock of roosting Black Skimmers, also in the tern family, and always a joy to see. And, as I rounded a bend about halfway through the drive, I got my first lifer of the trip: three Gull-billed Terns, lounging on the mudflats! I stared at them for a while, admiring their blunt, black beaks. Unlike the other terns mentioned, Gull-billeds apparently never plunge-dive, instead preferring to eat crabs and other invertebrates. That likely explains the unique bill shape!
A quick glance at these birds reveals how they got their name, Gull-billed Terns.
The sun began to hang low as I pulled out of Edwin B. Forsythe, and I headed for my next birding location, where I’d be staying for the night. Belleplain State Forest was located pretty far south in New Jersey, smack dab in the middle of the largest tract of Atlantic coastal pine barrens left in the world. This unique ecosystem was full of pine trees as well as a diverse assemblage of plants and animals, partially thanks to the area’s sandy soil. As I drove up to my campsite, I was reminded of the southeastern Longleaf Pine forests, the same ones that host Red-cockaded Woodpeckers and Brown-headed Nuthatches. While neither of those birds make it this far north, several southerners do, and I quickly set up my tent so I could get out and look for them. The campground bordered Nummy Lake, and I chose this as my focus, noting the tall pine trees and swampy terrain surrounding it. Within seconds, I heard my first target bird: a Yellow-throated Warbler. A little bit of pishing soon brought the bird into view: a beautiful gray, black and white warbler with a splash of yellow on the throat. My lifer Yellow-throated had been in a very similar habitat down at St. Marks National Wildlife Refuge in northern Florida the previous spring, though not quite as confiding as this individual. After checking me out, the bird returned to the tops of the trees, where it continued to belt out its song.
My second Yellow-throated Warbler proved much more cooperative than my first with my friend Nick at St. Marks NWR in 2022.
I picked up White-eyed Vireo, another more-southerly bird, as I kept walking, searching the trees for my second target at Belleplain. Then, in the distance, I heard a song that matched the recording on Merlin almost exactly, and made a beeline straight for that location. Once there, I played for the bird twice. No dice. I sighed. “I was really hoping to get this one. Oh well.” Suddenly, I heard a flutter of wings right above me. I looked up, to see a Prothonotary Warbler staring down at me from a branch no higher than two feet above my head. Even in the dying sunlight, it’s brilliant golden feathers stuck out against everything else. My jaw dropped. The Prothonotary flew over to a bush beside me, staring at me with curiosity and searching for the rival bird it had just heard. While I’d seen a lot of birds in the last few weeks, including a fair number of life birds, no bird had made my heart thump this hard inside my chest. A few incredibly special moments passed, and then the bird fluttered away, probably headed for bed, as I would be soon. The last time I had seen this bird was seven years ago, at High Island Texas, during my dad’s and my first big year. It had been the first bird on that trip to blow our minds, and represented the first year that I’d really begun to take birding seriously. Prothonotary Warbler had helped kick off my passion, and here I was seven years later, sharing a moment with another one, more than a thousand miles from that first encounter. I had no idea I would feel this way when I’d set my sights on one during this trip.
This was my first Prothonotary Warbler in seven years since my Dad and I had one of our first big birding adventures, in Houston, Texas.
The sun was setting, but the day wasn’t done. I plugged a Google Maps pin into my phone for another bird that loved southeastern pine forests. As I headed towards the spot, I took a brief stop at the Belleplain State Forest visitor center to go to the bathroom and brush my teeth. As I stepped out of the car, the songs of three flycatchers greeted me—two Eastern Phoebes and an Acadian Flycatcher, the latter a lifer! After missing that one at Nummy Lake, I certainly had not expected to get one singing at dusk along the side of the road, but then again, there is something special about parking lots! I listened to its “pizza” calls for a bit, then hopped back into the Jeep. Five minutes later, I pulled over on the side of the road and was immediately rewarded with my next target bird: Chuck-will’s-widow. Four of them called from the trees surrounding this random, rural dirt road, and I was reminded of my lifer last March in the Everglades.
The next morning, pounding rain on my tent woke me. While I’d been hoping for a better forecast, I had prepared for it and didn’t expect to see many birds today. However, what I would see was almost as cool. Forty minutes after leaving Belleplain State Forest, I got off at the last exit on the Garden State Parkway and entered the town of Cape May, New Jersey, one of the best birding spots on the continent. I joined several birders who already had their scopes trained on the waters of Delaware Bay at a hotspot called the Coral Avenue Dune Crossing, which consisted of a large wooden standing area overlooking a sandy beach and the ocean. While there weren’t many birds flying around (although the Forster’s Terns were again putting on a show), a tour group showed up after about half an hour, and I eavesdropped to learn a little bit about the famous birding location. The tour, it turns out, was being led by Tom Reed, the top eBirder for the hotspot location and one of the people who started many of the projects happening at Cape May. While Cape May, a peninsula at the bottom of New Jersey, certainly held plenty of potential during spring migration, it really outshined anywhere else on the eastern seaboard in fall. Because of its shape, thousands of migrating birds following the Atlantic coast would be funneled into it every autumn, halted by the daunting flight across the mouth of Delaware Bay. The migrants all stopped here, in mind-boggling numbers—Tom spoke of kettles of thousands of raptors circling above the platform on which I stood, trying to gain enough height to make it across the water crossing.
Coral Avenue Dune Crossing, one of Cape May’s most famous hotspots.
At the recommendation of some of the birders at the Coral Avenue Dune Crossing, I headed to Higbee Beach WMA. In the pouring rain, I did not see many birds, and I definitely didn’t see the migrating warblers I’d been hoping for. I did spot some Horseshoe Crabs on the beach, however, as well as a few Prairie Warblers and Indigo Buntings on territory in the subtropical dune scrub. Following that, I hopped in the car to dry off, and turned back north, heading for the Poconos. While I hadn’t seen many birds today, I hadn’t really had many targets any way, and I had seen Cape May. On top of that, the day before I had gotten two lifers and knocked all of my targets out of the park. Coastal New Jersey, you can bet I’ll be back.
Among my last “birds” of the trip, horseshoe crabs are a vital resource for migrating Red Knots, who feast on the crabs’ eggs.
We are delighted this week to present only our second ever guest post, by long-time reader of FatherSonBirding, Roger Kohn. Roger and I met at UC Berkeley and roomed together for a time at Cloyne Court Co-op. Since retiring from a distinguished career with the EPA, he and his wife Claudia have settled in Bend and have pursued birding with a passion. Recently, they embarked on their first Arizona birding adventure, kicking it off with a place Braden and I have never birded, Sedona. I asked if he would give FatherSonBirding readers a taste of what it’s like to bird one of the world’s most beautiful places!
Inspired by Sneed and Braden’s adventures in southeastern Arizona last year, and eager to see more bird species and beautiful southwestern landscapes, my wife Claudia and I hopped a flight to Phoenix this past April to start a two-week birding vacation. Our plan was to focus on southeast Arizona. Before heading south, however, we visited Sedona to revel in its awe-inspiring landscapes. Although not known as a birding destination, I was confident we would see some good birds. After all, it was spring in Arizona.
Rising early on our first day, I stepped out onto our deck, which faced a large yard with bird feeders and had more green space beyond. I quickly spotted nine species, including two Lifers: an Inca Dove and a Northern Cardinal (a male, in all its bright red glory), a species I had wanted to see for a long time. Welcome to Arizona! The trip was off to a fine start.
After breakfast we drove a short distance to the location we selected for Day 1 birding: Red Rock State Park, known for its stunning vistas. At the Visitor Center viewing platform, we saw a Turkey Vulture, followed by two dark raptors with white bands on their tails circling above us. “Hawks!,” I exclaimed. I wasn’t sure what species they were, but I knew it was one we hadn’t seen before. The answer came quickly from a park ranger who was standing nearby: Common Black Hawk. Lifer! And who doesn’t love raptors? What a great way to begin our park visit.
A Lifer Common Black Hawk soars above Red Rock State Park.
After getting looks at another Northern Cardinal, as well as Lesser Goldfinches, House Finches, Red-wing Blackbirds, and White-crowned Sparrows, we followed the Bunkhouse Trail a short distance downhill to Kingfisher Bridge, which spans Oak Creek. The creek was wide and gushed with fast-moving water. This would prove to be a surprising theme of the trip: plenty of water and lush landscapes–not what one thinks of in a state known for its desert landscapes! Tall, bare trees grew right out of the creek, giving a bizarre, otherworldly quality to this striking scene.
We didn’t see any kingfishers at their namesake bridge, but we did see a couple of Black Phoebes (a flycatcher species) perched on branches above the creek between breakfast-gathering forays. Crossing the bridge, we headed west on the Kisva Trail into riparian habitat next to the creek. It was very birdy here, although not always easy to see the birds. Violet-green Swallows zipped back and forth, and a couple even were cooperative enough to perch and allow me to photograph them. We could hear the harsh calls of Gila Woodpeckers reverberating all around us. The Audubon app describes their calls as “a rolling churrr.” To me, the calls had a bizarre, almost electronic, quality. We were not able to see the woodpeckers, but they are very common in Arizona and we would see them many times in a variety of different habitats on the rest of the trip. A little further on, we could see a lot of bird activity in the treetops. Benefitting from Merlin Sound ID, we knew we were looking at Lucy’s Warblers, another Lifer!
A Lifer Lucy’s Warbler in the treetops along Oak Creek in Red Rock State Park.
The Kisva Trail took us to the Eagle’s Nest Trail, which gradually ascends to a summit with a commanding 180-degree view of the surrounding red-rock country. The scenery in and around Sedona is absolutely jaw-dropping, with layers of colorful rock rising into towering formations that lend an epic, cinematic quality to the landscape. This is why we came to Sedona!
We didn’t see many birds on our way up, or as we descended on a loop trail that took us back to Oak Creek. Walking along the creek, we got good looks at a Townsend’s Solitaire and a House Wren, perched and singing a sweet and enchanting aria for all to enjoy. Later I saw a black and white bird darting back and forth among the trees. I wondered if it could be a species that I was really looking forward to seeing based on my pre-trip bird study. Could it be… yes it was… a Bridled Titmouse! Lifer! With what eBird calls a “crested head with striking black-and-white pattern unlike any other bird,” the Bridled Titmouse makes up for its lack of color with a combination of elegant form and bold contrast that give the species a big WOW factor. We loved these guys and saw them on several other occasions in the next two weeks.
A House Wren sings its heart out next to Oak Creek in Red Rock State Park.A Lifer Bridled Titmouse in all its elegant glory, Red Rock SP.
Relaxing back at our rental with a fine locally produced beverage made with barley and hops (and love), we snagged two more Lifers: Woodhouse’s Scrub-Jay and Canyon Towhee. As the sun sunk toward the horizon, we reflected on the excellent first day of our Arizona birding adventure.
A Lifer Canyon Towhee says hi at our rental.
We awoke to another gorgeous early spring morning on Day 2 of the trip. Our plan was to bird the West Fork Trail, which follows Oak Creek in the Coconino National Forest. After a pretty 30-minute drive through rugged country north of Sedona, we arrived. A pair of bright blue Steller’s Jays and a group of cackling Acorn Woodpeckers greeted us in the parking lot. As we gathered our gear to get ready to walk, a few black and red birds flew over us and landed in the trees above us. This had to be something good. Focusing our binoculars in high branches where the birds landed, we were delighted to discover that they were Painted Redstarts, a Lifer for both of us! We got great looks and absolutely loved this warbler species, with its gorgeous black, red, and white plumage. Although we would get glimpses of this species again later in the trip, this was by far our best sighting.
A show-stopping Lifer Painted Redstart in the West Fork Trail parking lot.
Starting our walk, we enjoyed views of three other warbler species near a footbridge that spanned the creek. Lucy’s Warblers were present, although hard to see as they flitted around in the treetops. We got good looks at Yellow-rumped Warblers, and a beautiful Yellow Warbler foraging in the trees.
Continuing, we passed the ruins of an old cabin and were delighted by the beauty of this place, with cliffs in hues of pink, white, and gray rising to dizzying heights above the canyon floor. We saw Ruby-crowned Kinglets, House Wrens, American Robins, and many Acorn Woodpeckers (which live in family groups), with their colorful and clownish face patterns. Soon we reached a waist-high creek crossing that we didn’t want to attempt, so we turned around. On the way back, we enjoyed views of a pair of Common Black Hawks harassing a Peregrine Falcon. The raptors flew gracefully and at high speeds, making sharp turns as the hawks pursued the falcon, all set against a dramatic background of colorful canyon walls.
We loved the beauty of the landscapes in Sedona and would love to return. As our two-day stay wrapped up, we had seen 38 species, including eight Lifers. Now southeast Arizona, which Tucson Audubon calls “one of the most fascinating areas for birding in the United States,” with over 400 bird species seen annually and approximately 500 recorded, beckoned. Early the next morning, we eagerly pointed our car south toward Tucson.
The author in his natural habitat, a brewery in Tucson!
A tradition Braden and I have formed over the years is to make top birds lists after any big trip or, as this year, for our entire year of birding. This probably stems from the many hours I listened to Casey Kasem counting down the American Top 40 every weekend as a youth. Our own “Top 40” lists have diverged a bit since Braden is now on the East Coast for most of the year—but this year we still managed to have a lot of birding adventures together, and so have a lot of common birds on our list. It’s funny, though, how some birds we might have been super excited about when we first saw them often drift lower on the list. I suppose it’s like being super excited about Barry Manilow when you first heard him—and then realizing you could be listening to the likes of the Rolling Stones, Neil Young, and John Lee Hooker. Anyway, we thought you might enjoy our Top 10 birds of 2022—and hope you might share some of your own!
# 10
Coming in at Number 10 for Braden was the Florida Scrub-Jay, which is remarkably vulnerable in Florida, but Braden got to see with his birding buddy Nick Ramsey on their epic Spring Break Florida adventure. Read about it here. Sneed’s #10 was an unlikely Cape May Warbler—his Lifer—that he spotted in front of the house of his good friends Mollie and Craig Bloomsmith in Atlanta this fall.
Florida Scrub-Jays are the only bird species entirely restricted to Florida.
#9
Braden had excellent adventures with Northern Saw-whet Owls while out in California, running into some adorable juveniles while thrashing through the woods during his job with the Institute for Bird Populations. Elegant Trogon finished #9 on Sneed’s list—an exotic bird if there ever was one! And yet, both Braden and Sneed wondered why this bird didn’t finish higher on either of their lists. Probably just too much on the beaten birding path. (Photo at top of the blog.)
Non-stop birding for his job throughout the summer led Braden to a remarkable encounter with these juvenile Northern Saw-whet Owls.
Zone-tailed Hawks are well-known mimics of Turkey Vultures and often hang out with them—which is where we spotted this one at Madera Canyon, Arizona; only our second ZTHA ever.
#7
Ah, who doesn’t love a Swallow-tailed Kite—especially one that swoops right over your head? Braden obviously DOES, as yet another bird from his Florida trip snagged a Top Ten spot. Sneed, meanwhile, went with the shockingly beautiful Scott’s Oriole for Lucky Number 7. He and Braden both fell in love with these birds, and were lucky enough to see them several times on their Arizona adventures. In fact . . .
Braden never tired of seeing Swallow-tailed Kites on his and Nick’s epic Florida adventure.
#6
Scott’s Oriole grabbed Braden’s Number 6 while Sneed went with Sulphur-bellied Flycatcher, also in Arizona, in a case that he couldn’t quite explain. “There was just something mysterious and intriguing about that bird,” he was quoted as telling a New York Times reporter.
Though relatively widespread in the Southwest, Scott’s Oriole is a bird Braden and I wondered if we’d ever really get to see—or even if it really existed. It does!
#5
Unfortunately, the same New York Times reporter caught Sneed cheating for Number 5, as he listed THREE birds tied for #5: Mexican Whip-poor-will, Whiskered Screech-Owl, and Elf Owl. “How can you possibly justify this?” demanded the reporter. “Well, I only ever heard these three birds, but we listened to them on a magical night in Portal, walking down a darkened road. It’s just a night that Braden and I won’t ever forget.” Meanwhile Braden went with his many amazing experiences with Prairie Warblers this year for his #5 spot, seeing them throughout Florida, including the Everglades, in Maine, and during the Collard Family’s epic New York City trip in May.
It blew Braden’s mind to learn that Prairie Warblers breed in the mangroves of Florida.
#4
The night walk in Portal also left a big impression on Braden, giving him his Number 4 in the form of Mexican Whip-poor-will. Sneed, meanwhile, went with Red-faced Warbler, spotted just a few miles and a couple thousand feet away—the first, and still only, RFWA the father-son duo has ever seen.
Another fairly common Southwest bird that had eluded us until this trip, the Red-faced Warbler immediately captured our hearts. This is still the only we have ever seen.
#3
Number 3 is getting into some Serious Birds, and Braden selected Spotted Owl for his. Not only did Sneed and Braden both see them for the first time in the Chiricahuas, Braden got to see the California subspecies several times during his summer job. Sneed went with his recently self-found Long-tailed Duck—the first male he had ever seen—and one he discovered pretty much in his backyard near Missoula.
When you find a bird by yourself, it naturally ranks higher in a Year List. Such was the case with this male Long-tailed Duck Sneed found near Frenchtown last fall.
#2
Braden paid for his Number 2 bird, Long-tailed Jaeger (a second cousin to former lead singer for the Rolling Stones) with repeated upchucking over the side of the boat during his summer pelagic boat trip out of Half Moon Bay. After cavorting with a bunch of Sabine’s Gulls, however, this bird took flight and then passed only ten feet above Braden’s head. He celebrated by once again barfing into the sea. Sneed opted for White-tailed Ptarmigan, just one of the coolest birds on the planet, seen during his and Braden’s stunning hike up to Piegan Pass in Glacier National Park in August.
Blurry photo notwithstanding (or puking as was the case), this Long-tailed Jaeger flew into Braden’s #2 spot for the year.
Drum Roll . . . And their Number 1s are . . .
#1
The adventure and thrill of seeking out and finally finding a LeConte’s Thrasher on the east side of the Sierras stayed with Braden strongly enough to make it his Number 1 Bird of 2022! Remarkably, Spotted Owl, which had been only #4 on Sneed’s Arizona Trip list mounted an epic comeback to grab his Number 1 spot!
Braden’s #1 for 2022: LeConte’s Thrasher!Sneed’s #1 for 2022: Spotted Owl
Thanks for tuning in as we’ve relived our top birds. Be sure to click on the links to get the full accounts, and may 2023 generate a memorable list for you, too!
Well, another great year of birding has passed for Braden and me—and we hope for you, too. Both of us had remarkable experiences the likes of which we’d never had before, and in the process once again broke our previous Big Year records—I, accidentally, and Braden with determination and grit. As you enjoy Braden’s year-end recap, we want to tell you how much we appreciate your interest in our adventures over the years. In 2022 we smashed viewership for our blog with more than 7,000 views for the first time, bringing our total to more than 21,000 views since we first began writing this blog (gasp) five years ago. We have never had any goals with the blog except to share our love of birding, provide some education about birds, and encourage a will to protect them. With that in mind, we don’t know how long we’ll continue writing it, but as long as you all keep checking in, chances are good that we’ll stay with it, too. Happy 2023 and may birds continue to grace your lives!
Roaring winds, carrying hordes of gulls and Northern Gannets with them, ripped past Schoodic Point as I stood on the wave-battered rocks. The sky was beginning to brighten, and a few other people had made an appearance, including a guy in the parking lot with a spotting scope who I’m pretty sure was counting migrating sea ducks. I had no particular need to talk to him. Instead I was content to stare at the sea, reflecting on one of the most memorable weekends I’d had in a long time.
One of the fun things about returning to Maine for fall semester was hitting the Cornfield Loop and seeing tons of fall warblers, including this Palm Warbler.(See also warbler photos below.)
I was several hours away from the end of my EES 217 class, a one-credit course completely confined to the past two and a half days. During this time, I and a group of like-minded students had designed projects relating to the ecology of the Schoodic Peninsula, a part of Acadia National Park. My group was chosen to study the impact that humans were having on Acadia’s saltmarshes, and we tackled this issue by wading out into the marshes around the peninsula and collecting data on trash, invasive species (specifically a tall grass called Phragmites) and erosion. Yesterday we had arrived back at the Schoodic Institute, our home for the weekend, to begin analyzing our data, and later today we would be presenting our project to the public, all under the guidance of the head of the University of Maine Ecology and Environmental Sciences Department, Katharine Ruskin.
The first Rusty Blackbird I’d seen in six years, also on the Cornfield Loop, was a key ingredient to hitting my Big Year goal.
The fact that I’d been doing science all weekend wasn’t the only great thing about this class. The food was great— welcome relief from dining hall food—and the people were amazing. It was the first time I had been surrounded by like-minded people in a long time, people who cared deeply about conservation and the environment. No one knew each other whatsoever on the Friday that we left, but by Sunday night I felt like I had made some really great friends. I talked to everyone I possibly could during the brief breaks we had to be social, including on Saturday night, when we all grouped together to do icebreakers for a few hours, and Sunday morning, when we all walked out to see the sunrise at Schoodic Point. It truly was an incredible experience.
I was especially proud to pick out this juvenile Iceland Gull from a flock of Herring Gulls at the UMaine campus this fall.
Now, as I stood on the rocky cliffs above the Atlantic (half an hour after everyone else had gone back to eat breakfast), I spotted a tiny gull fly by—one with a yellow bill and tiny black wingtips.
“Kittiwake!” I yelled, to no one in particular.
Black-legged Kittiwake was not a bird I had been expecting to see on this trip, or this year for that matter, and had the distinction of being my 498th bird species for the year.
After my dad’s and my amazing shorebirding and ptarmigan experiencein August, I had arrived back on the University of Maine’s campus with low expectations—500 birds for the yearwas within reach, but unlikely since I had only 484 species and didn’t know where 16 more could possibly come from. I took advantage of my campus’s great location during the month of September, however, circling the campus’s Cornfield Loop as often as possible to look for warblers as they migrated south from their breeding grounds in the boreal forest. During that month, I added six species of warblers to my year list: Blackburnian, Bay-breasted, Canada, Cape May, Blackpoll and Tennessee. I also saw the first Rusty Blackbirds and Scarlet Tanagers that I’d seen in six years. Suddenly, my year list passed 490. A trip to St. John, New Brunswick with my girlfriend added White-rumped Sandpiper to my ABA list, and in late October, my friend Wesley Hutchens volunteered to drive me to Lake Sebasticook to see two long-staying Hudsonian Godwits, which I got to watch through fellow Montana birder Ed Harper’s spotting scope. And then, on November 6th, I saw those Black-legged Kittiwakes, cruising by Schoodic Point, and was suddenly two birds away from 500 with two months left.
During a long weekend in New Brunswick, Canada, I encountered the largest flock of White-rumped Sandpipers I’d ever seen.
I was not to be deceived by that seemingly long amount of time remaining, however. There just weren’t that many possibilities left, and the birds were leaving. American Golden-Plovers were making brief appearances around the state, but my chances of finding one were slim. Rare wintering birds like Glaucous Gulls and King Eiders also were things I needed on my year list, but again, there was no easy way to find them. Besides, my class load had picked up significantly, and the time I had allotted for birding diminished with every day.
Thanks to Ed Harper and his spotting scope, I picked up my Lifer Hudsonian Godwits in late October at Sebasticook Lake, about an hour away from Orono.
And yet, in mid-November, a local birder reported a Snow Goose from a farmer’s field in Bangor, Maine. The next day, people went to see it, and apparently the identification had changed to Ross’s Goose. Wesley Hutchens went that morning, and reported back to me as I was getting out of my Honors Lecture: it wasn’t a Snow Goose or a Ross’s Goose. It was both. And I needed both for the year, which was ironic given that had I been in Montana, I likely would have picked them up months earlier. I couldn’t resist, but I also couldn’t get there. I didn’t have a car.
Wes solved that problem. “Dude, you’re going to get these geese. I might be late to class, but we gotta get you these geese.”
Needless to say, Wesley Hutchens had been responsible for a large chunk of the birds I’d seen this fall, and I’m very grateful to him for that. We drove the fifteen minutes from campus, pulling over near an abandoned church across the road from a large field, and there they were. Two differently-sized white geese, standing right next to each other. It was almost too easy. And yet, maybe it was a reward for all of the time I’d put into getting the other 498 birds I’d seen in 2022. I’d seen a lot of birds in 2022.
Who would have thought my 499th (Ross’s Goose) and 500th (Snow Goose) birds of the year would be standing right next to each other—and only a few miles down the road?
Tennessee Warbler, Cornfield LoopCape May Warbler, Cornfield Loop
Then, it was off to Southeastern Arizona, a region that was already wilting under ninety-degree temperatures during the middle of the day. Thoughts of Spotted Owls and Scott’s Orioles accompanied us as we crossed the border into southern California, then up the coast, across the Central Valley into the Sierras, where the town of Twain Harte became my home base for three months. It was there that I’d met Sam Darmstadt, Miles Carlile and Ivara Goulden, amazing people with whom I shared amazing experiences throughout the summer. We camped in the hottest desert in the world, we climbed one of California’s tallest peaks, we set off into the formidable Pacific Ocean in search of lifers. If you want to know what wildlife we saw during these adventures, well, there are posts about each and every one of them!
Despite all of the great adventures I’ve had this year, I never tire of being home and enjoying Montana’s birds, including the Bohemian Waxwings flying around our neighborhood.
And now, flash-forward to now, December 26th, 2022. I’m back home in Missoula for a few more weeks, then I head back to Maine to kick-off another year. My goals? I don’t have any numbers in mind, but I would like to see a Northern Pygmy-Owl while I’m still out west. Learning the Eastern wood-warblers by song would also be awesome, should I get a summer job in New England somewhere.
But what about the birds of 2022? What were my dad and I’s top ten, or top twenty? You’ll just have to stay tuned!
