Roger and I could easily write another ten or twelve posts about our recent birding adventures to Colombia, but I thought it would be fun to pack a lot of our experiences into a video featuring our main destination down there, the Araucana Lodge. The video not only introduces you to the joys of lodge birding, but features some of the famous birds and birding opportunities to be had in the mountains above Cali. Since large files don’t always work well on this blog host, we embed a YouTube link below. Let us know what you think—and enjoy the show!
Click Here to see the first of our Colombian birding post!
With spring shorebird migration coming on, we take a break from our Colombian birding series to review a new book that will help prepare you for the exciting, sometimes daunting task of identifying and enjoying some of the world’s most spectacular long-distance migrants. Bird—and read—on!
Legions of FatherSonBirding readers have probably noticed that Braden and I have increasingly become interested—nay, obsessed—by shorebirds over the years. See, for example, our posts
Our fascination may seem odd given that Montana is hardly the world’s epicenter of shorebird activity. Then again, their very rarity here renders them all the more alluring to find and learn about. A natural birding progression also is at work. When beginning one’s birding journey, we birders naturally focus on common, familiar species. As confidence, curiosity, and ambition grow, so does the desire to learn about and identify more difficult groups of birds. When we first began birding, Braden and I focused on woodpeckers, thrushes, waterfowl, waders, owls, and other easier-to-identify species. Over the years, we have plunged into increasingly challenging groups including warblers, sparrows, flycatchers (Braden), gulls, and perhaps more than anything, “shorbs.”
A flock of Western Sandpipers at Point Reyes during my September visit to California with Scott Callow.
When out scanning beaches or shallow lakes, the most common phrase Braden repeats to me is “Shorebirds are tough.” This usually happens when I am whining about the difficulty in distinguishing between off-season Least and Semipalmated Sandpipers, or White-rumped and Baird’s Sandpipers—especially at a distance. But many shorbs are relatively easy to identify, and over the years both Braden and I have come to appreciate—nay, savor—the entire breadth of these fascinating, superbly adapted critters. Imagine my joy, then, when a brand new, beautifully photographed book about shorebirds arrived on my doorstep: Pete Dunne’s and Kevin T. Karlson’s The Shorebirds of North America: A Natural History and Photographic Celebration(Princeton University Press, 2024).
To say that The Shorebirds of North America is ambitious would be like calling the 18,000-mile round-trip migration of a Red Knot “neat” instead of “epic” or “mind-blowing.” This terrific addition to birding literature not only gives a wonderful overview of the lives of shorebirds, it provides specific accounts of all the shorebirds likely to interest you. That makes this book a wonderful, highly readable reference for both beginning and advanced birders.
The bulk of the book consists of species accounts of 52 kinds of shorebirds known to breed in North America and my guess is that you, like me, will skip directly to species that happen to interest you at the present time. This is a great approach. One of the first shorebirds I looked up was Black-bellied Plover, a bird I have become more and more enthralled with the past several years. As I started to read, my understanding of this handsome creature immediately swelled. I didn’t realize, for instance, that it is one of the world’s most widely distributed shorebirds, or that it is called Grey Plover outside of North America. What really tickled me was learning how fearlessly aggressive these birds can be:
“On the high Arctic tundra breeding grounds,” the authors write, “this sturdy plover is a fierce protector of its large nest area, and it strikes fear into aerial predators as large as gulls and jaegers. Woe to any flying predator if it hears the whistled alarm call of Black-bellied Plover as it flies swift and low across the tundra before rising to spear the intruder in the belly with its strong bill . . .”
The 4-letter breeding code for Black-bellied Plovers is BBPL. After reading the entry for the bird in The Shorebirds of North America, however, I realized that BBPL could easily stand for “Bad-ass-bellied Plover”.
Who knew that one of my favorite birds is such a bad-ass? Similarly delightful “reveals” can be found in each account, many of them based on the authors’ own personal and scientific experiences with the birds.
Far from just being pretty to look at, the book’s incredible photos add real understanding of each species by showing them in a variety of plumages and situations. I enjoyed just quizzing myself on the photos as I made my way through the book, testing and expanding my knowledge as I went. I cannot imagine the effort Kevin T. Karlson and the book’s other photographers invested in creating what may be the world’s finest collection of shorebird photos.
Another thing I learned from The Shorebirds of North America is that the bills of oystercatchers are laterally compressed. You can’t tell this from the typical side view, but this compression turns the bills into excellent chisels for prying limpets, snails, and chitons off of rocks.
As delightful as the species accounts are, I strongly urge readers to read the entire first section straight through. In this section, the authors provide excellent perspective on all shorebirds including their remarkable adaptations, habits, diversity, and evolution. Fascinating anecdotes abound, such as the story of B-95, a banded Red Knot known to have traveled more than 400,000 miles during his 21-year lifetime. The authors don’t bother to hide their admiration for these birds:
“Challenged to design the perfect bird, we would without hesitancy delve into ranks of shorebirds and reach down to the Scolopacidae (sandpipers), the largest of the roughly six or seven family groups in the shorebird order Charadriiformes.”
Another fascinating fact I picked up from The Shorebirds of North America is that the curved bills of Long-billed Curlews are almost perfectly designed to snatch fiddler crabs from their long, curved burrows. They’re also great for picking off grasshoppers without alerting them to their imminent doom.
I could keep singing this book’s praises, but really, if you have even the tiniest, nascent interest in shorebirds, you should order a copy yourself. Given its length and full-color format, I expected the book to sell for at least fifty or sixty bucks, but at the time of this posting it can be had for a bargain $35. That puts it within reach of most people—and makes it an investment in your birding future you won’t regret.
One-Sentence Summary: A highly-readable, indispensable resource for both beginning and advanced shorebird enthusiasts.
Overall Rating (on a scale of cool birds): Piping Plover (highest)
You can order The Shorebirds of North America from your local independent bookstore, or directly from Princeton University Press.Please tell them we sent you!
(Except for the cover image, photos in this post are copyright Sneed B. Collard III. Review copy of The Shorebirds of North America provided by the publisher.)
Setting and surpassing goals plays a big role for many of us birders. Big Years, Big Months, Big Days, State Big Years, Bicycle Big Days, Global Big Days—the list of ways we challenge ourselves are endless. And while I’m no longer a big fan of Big Years that require burning up a ton of fossil fuels, Braden and I still partake in local challenges, or those that unfold seemingly on their own. Such was the situation I found myself in late January.
Thanks mainly to a vigorous day of birding with Braden on January 2nd, in which I found 47 species here in western Montana, and the surprise trip to Victoria that Amy planned for my 65th birthday (38 more species), by January 20th I found that I had seen 88 bird species for the month. They were awesome birds, too, ranging from Short-eared Owls and Golden Eagles here in Montana to Pacific Loons, Harlequin Ducks, and a Marbled Murrelet in Canada (click here). Interestingly, I realized that with ten days to go, I needed to see only four more species to make this my best January of birding ever! Even so, I had a lot of writing to catch up on and I wasn’t sure that I wanted to intentionally make the effort. A couple of things convinced me to go for it.
Lola played an instrumental role in advancing my Big January goals!
The first was that while walking our dog Lola in the neighborhood, I found my first Northern Pygmy-Owl of the year—a delightful little guy soaking up the last rays of sun high in a Ponderosa Pine. The next day—also while walking Lola, through Greenough Park—I espied my first American Dippers of the year. Three days after that, the year’s first White-breasted Nuthatch visited our backyard feeder, the first I’d seen there in a couple of years. Suddenly, just like that, I was one bird away from breaking my record. What, oh what, to do? Too much sittin’ on my butt and a forecast for a beautiful winter day answered the question. I called our friend Susan, who has been getting into birding more and more the past couple of years. I told her, “You know, there’s a Rusty Blackbird over near Deer Lodge, and we may be able to find some Snow Buntings. Do you want to go see if we can find them?” She also needed a birding break, so the next morning, we headed east.
Though we didn’t find Snow Buntings or the Rusty Blackbird, Susan was especially excited to get to know Rough-legged Hawks better.
We spent a delightful morning driving the roads between Deer Lodge and Anaconda. We may have seen a Snow Bunting, but it flew away before we could make a definite ID. We also saw the Rusty Blackbird—right as a couple of other birders scared it away. Since we couldn’t ID it ourselves, we didn’t put it on the list, either. Fortunately, in the parking lot that led to the Rusty Blackbird, we found four Horned Larks! Yay! I had it! A new January record!
Susan and I failed to get an ID-able look at a rare Rusty Blackbird. But note the famous Anaconda smelter stack in the distance!
But here’s the problem. Once you break one record, and realize that you are perilously close to another landmark—in this case, 100 birds for the month—it’s virtually impossible not to go for it. By now, I had revealed my January ambitions to Susan, and not only did she get as excited as I did about them, she was all in on getting me to 100 species for the month. As we pulled away from the Horned Larks, I said, “Are you up for driving by Discovery Ski Area on the way home?” “Let’s do it.”
Employees at Discovery kindly put out bird feeders that keep Pine Grosbeaks, Mountain Chickadees, and other higher-altitude birds nurtured during cold winter days.
Loyal readers of FatherSonBirding will recognize that in years past, Discovery Ski Area has been a go-to place for Braden and me to pick up several challenging species, and as Susan and I approached the parking area, we saw our first of these: Canada Jay. After parking, we visited the bird feeders and had a fun time picking up two others: Mountain Chickadee and Pine Grosbeak. Clark’s Nutcracker was the only bird that didn’t cooperate with my 100-species plans, but still, I left the ski area with 96 species. Could I really get four more species before the month ran out? Did I want to? No, I decided. I didn’t need to drive around burning up gas just trying to break a silly record. However, the Universe seemed to have other plans.
Portrait of a Canada Jay. See them while you can. Canada has announced that it will no longer allow these birds to be in the US if President Trump does indeed impose tariffs on our northern neighbor.
The afternoon of January 29th, I was again walking Lola in the neighborhood when I saw two more birds I needed for the month and year: Hairy Woodpecker and Cedar Waxwing, both of which I thought I’d already seen! Then, a Greater White-fronted Goose was sighted out beyond the Missoula Airport. I had never seen one of these birds in Montana, and it was a rare opportunity to do so, so on January 31st, I loaded my spotting scope and camera into the car and headed out to the site. My January and Year lists now stood at 98 species.
Long-story short: I did not find the Greater White-fronted Goose among the Canada Geese that were out there. As I was watching other CAGOs fly in, however, I was stunned to see a white goose flying with them! Stupidly, I did not try to gauge the size of this surprising arrival. If it were a bit larger it would be a Snow Goose; a bit smaller, Ross’s Goose. Either one would get me to 99 species—but not if I couldn’t identify it! Sighing and simply putting down “white goose” on my list, I resigned myself to not breaking that magical 100 number.
Since I was out there, however, I decided to swing by Council Grove State Park for a look around. The number of birds out there in the dead of winter surprised me. I was delighted to hear a Belted Kingfisher and spot Green-winged Teals and a Great Blue Heron. Then, two Killdeer flew by. As I was following a trail back around to the parking lot, however, I espied a small, soft lump on a branch out of the corner of my eye. “No way,” I muttered, and trained my new binoculars on it. It was another Northern Pygmy-Owl—the first I’d ever found all on my own. Even though it wouldn’t help with my goal of 100 birds, I was totally psyched by this find and spent ten minutes watching it before it winged away at hyper-speed.
Even though it didn’t help me with my 100-bird goal, seeing this Northern Pygmy-Owl was an awesome way to finish out an awesome January of birding.
So, no 100 birds. No century mark.
Or so I thought.
That evening, when I happened to glance at my bird list for the month, I was surprised to see that it stood not at 98 species as I expected, but at 99! The Killdeer I saw at Council Grove, it turned out, were also a new species for me for 2025! And then, several other birders confirmed that the white goose that I saw was indeed a Snow Goose! Ka-ching!
I’ll admit that getting to 100 wasn’t pretty, but like I said, the Universe seemed to want me to get there and, well, I’ll take it. It just shows you that a lot of great things can happen in birding—even setting silly records!
Partial FSB Reveal: We won’t be posting near the end of February and early March, but if all goes as planned, we should have some truly stunning posts for you then. Stay tuned!
This week we are delighted to present our first guest post from Scott Callow. Scott and I (Sneed) met in the fourth grade, endured Boy Scouts together, and have spent hundreds of hours in the outdoors together. Scott majored in environmental studies and is one of the first people ever to take me birding, at Coal Oil Point in Santa Barbara. We have refreshed our friendship many times, including with several memorable recent birding adventures (see our posts “Chasing Migrants, Part I: Swifts, Peeps, and Plovers” and “Abbotts Lagoon, Point Reyes National Seashore”). We are also fortunate to have photos by Scott and his buddy Steve Rosso (the bird photos) to share. If you are enjoying FatherSonBirding, why not subscribe by filling out the “Subscribe Now” box down in the right-hand column?
(All photos copyright Steve Rosso or Scott Callow.)
My former work colleague, Steve, and I spent 2 hours deciding which walks and talks we would do at our first winter Morro Bay Bird Festival. It was just over a week since the registration opened. Everything we chose turned out to be full, even with over 263 events, 191 of them field trips. Lesson learned. (We later learned that the Pelagic Boat Trip filled within an hour.) We were able to sign up for two outings, a Big Day at the inland Santa Margarita Lake and a “Back of the Bay” walk in Los Osos. Steve also made the wise demand to stop at the Pinnacles National Monument on our way down, and convinced me to spend the extra money ($55) on a boating tour of Morro Bay itself. (Readers are encouraged to open up a map of the region.)
Our first stop was along the lonely Highway 25 between Hollister and Pinnacles’ east entrance. We badly wanted one soaring raptor to be a California Condor but it turned out to be a Golden Eagle. Later (2-3pm), at the observation overlook a mile up the Condor Gulch Trail, more than 15 dark soaring birds suddenly appeared as a group from behind the eroded sandstone Hain’s Peak. I confidently identified four as Condors, one as a Golden Eagle (clearly seeing the difference between each’s white markings on the undersides), and many Turkey Vultures. Steve’s new camera clicked away. At the trailhead, a ranger told us that, years ago, the population was below 10 individuals when reintroduction began and now the local population had swelled to “three digits.”
Pinnacles National Park. And yes, at least some of those black specks are California Condors!
The next morning we embarked on our first festival field trip: a Big Day at Santa Margarita Lake. It was led by Mark Holmgren, retired curator of the natural history museum and collection at UC Santa Barbara (my alma mater and where Sneed got his master’s degree). Highlights included comparing Eared, Horned, Western, Clark’s and Pied-billed Grebes, listening to Fox’s Sparrows, California Thrashers, and Wrentits, and observing raptor behavior. Speaking of, we saw Ospreys and Bald Eagles fishing (one birder theorized the adult eagles were teaching the juvenile), two Peregrine falcons mobbing a raven, and two Peregrines (perhaps the same) apparently fighting over food in mid-air or in courtship display. I got good looks at the yellow lores of a White-throated Sparrow.
Winter is a nice time to compare Clark’s (shown here) and Western Grebes, which can sometimes be difficult to tell apart. Clark’s Grebes have more orangish bills versus greenish-yellowish on Westerns. The black also rises above the eye on Clark’s, though that’s not as clear-cut on this individual.
Tired from our long day, we drove to the Morro Bay Community Center downtown and attended one of the two receptions. Included in the cost of registration were free local wines (multiple pours allowed), and extensive noshing trays of cheese, meats, veggies, crackers, and artisan chocolates. The adjacent bazaar impressed with booths for 3-4 high-end binocular/gear manufacturers, book shops, authors, nature art and nature organizations. The bazaar was well attended and the noise generated rivaled that of a Spring morning chorus.
The bird fest’s exhibit area had a nice variety of vendors and non-profits to occupy us between birding trips, talks, and meals.
Our dinner at Morro Bay’s affordable, healthy and creative Asian fusion cafe, Chowa Bowl is recommended, as is the lunch combo Big Deal of sushi roll and ramen noodles at Baywood-Los Osos’ funky hangout, Kuma. This is important info to a birder even though food and beverages are barely mentioned in The Avian Survival Kit chapter of Birding for Boomers. Good food and libations can elevate a birding trip. (Editor’s Note: We at FSB take exception to this criticism, as we have frequently mentioned fine dining establishments such as McDonald’s, Wendy’s, and Starbucks.)
Next day’s Back of the Bay trip was not only highlighted by lunch, but by Audubon’s Sweet Springs Nature Preserve. It’s a small preserve with a spring-fed creek and excellent views from its wooden observation decks of the bay’s mudflats and its shorebirds, ducks, gulls, and terns—tons of them (which is saying a lot since birds are so light.) With Morro Rock and Morro Dunes in the background, we saw Lesser and Western Sandpipers, too many Brants to count, 30+ Green-winged Teals, 4 Blue-winged Teals, American Wigeon, Northern Shoveler, Bufflehead, Long-billed Curlew, Killdeer, Black-bellied Plover, Great Egret, and Greater Yellowlegs. We learned the Greater has three notes in its call compared to the two notes of the Lesser. Ring-billed Gulls, Belted Kingfishers, and Forster’s Terns were seen flying above the bay.
These are the ducks that inspired The Guess Who’s 1970 Number One single “American Wigeon”. Fun Fact: Sneed saw The Guess Who’s lead singer, Burton Cummings, perform this song live in Rapid City, South Dakota in 1977.Sneed was favorably impressed by this performance—until ZZ Top took the stage and basically burned the place down.
In the narrow woodland area between street and bay we saw both Hairy and Nuttall’s Woodpeckers, and Chestnut-backed Chickadee. Then, local guide Dean led our car caravan down the road apiece to his friend’s house which sported about six bird feeders that earned a hot spot ranking on eBird. More chickadees, the ubiquitous House Finch, the most common local warblers—Yellow-rumped, Orange-crowned, Townsend’s—and Lincoln’s, Golden-crowned and White-crowned Sparrows. We also saw our Oak Titmouse, formerly lumped with Plain Titmouse, at the bird feeders. Its range is mostly endemic to California (stretching into parts of Oregon and Mexico) and the bird shares its place with the Acorn Woodpecker as a signature species in California’s oak woodlands.
Dean also shared his mnemonic for our (Pacific Group) White-crowned Sparrow – “Awf man!, I dough-ont wanna see”. It’s a bit of a stretch but “I don’t want to see” sums up many people’s self-engineered denials of science nowadays, so I decided to add it to my mnemonic checklist.
The rarity highlight of the trip was the sole Blue-winged/Cinnamon Teal hybrid. I “put good eyes on it” but Steve left his camera in the car because he logically thought he’d get better shorebird and bay bird shots on the following day’s boating trip.
Female, juvenile, and nonbreeding Red-breasted Mergansers (above) can be difficult to distinguish from Common Mergansers, especially in winter, when they can be swimming side by side. We think this is a Red-breasted because of its a) slightly thinner, upturned bill b) indistinct transition between the brown and gray on its neck and c) its crazier “hair-do”.
Our inside-the-bay boat trip the next day also included a fellow (and local) birder, Mike, who led bird trips. Steve and I learned a lot from him. The trip was created as a photography outing and the leader focused on pointing out good shots. The captain, also a birder, put the boat in good lighting and locations for the photographers. We were inspired to overtip him. The trip started in a downtown marina and we made a loop up to Morro Rock, along the rock jetties past the bay’s opening to the ocean, and then back into the bay to the mudflats of the Morro Bay Estuary. As we returned back to the docks, we passed the Morro Bay State Park Boardwalk, the Museum of Natural History, the Morro Bay Water Access, and Heron Rookery Natural Preserve—all excellent spots to bird from the shore, and perfect for photographers from the water due to the sun’s location.
We saw Peregrine Falcons above The Rock, Black Oystercatchers and Black Turnstones on the rocks, Black-crowned Night Herons in the trees, Ospreys on the masts, Common and Red-breasted Mergansers, several Eared Grebes and a Horned for comparison, and a nice collection of Brandt’s, Pelagic, and Double-crested Cormorants floating on a wooden raft. The Brandt’s Cormorants were especially striking with their iridescent coats and bright blue throat pouches. We were surprised to see some of the adults sporting very early breeding plumage marked by brilliant white “whisker” feathers around the ears and shoulders.
Cormorants put on a show under the gaze of their Western Gull overlord. Note the brilliant blue gular pouches on the Brandt’s Cormorants, along with their wispy white breeding feathers on the necks. A Double-crested with yellow markings skulks in the background.
Further inside the bay near the mudflats we saw large numbers, reaching into the hundreds, of Double-crested Cormorants, Marbled Godwits, and other shorebirds too far away to ID, plus good showings of White Pelicans, Ospreys, Ring-billed and Western Gulls, Northern Pintails, Buffleheads and Long-billed Curlews, Willets, and Greater Yellowlegs, as well as other common shorebirds not listed. Mike told us that the Pelagic Boat Trip ($160) was fantastic. If interested, check the bird list from the trip on the festival’s website.
Our “Inside of the Bay” boat trip featured a great variety of seabirds and shorebirds. Here, American White Pelicans earn extra style points.
The last night’s keynote speaker was Kenn Kaufman, author of Kingbird Highway, multiple nature guides, and his new The Birds that Audubon Missed: Discovery and Desire in the American Wilderness. He extolled birders to persist in their nature explorations, even beyond birds, and to pause the inclination to aggressively list in order to truly observe. He described the Morro Bay region as a “globally important ecological area” and the all-volunteer festival as top-notch and well organized, ranking it among the highest of the many he has attended.
232 species were identified collectively during the 5-day festival in mid-January. Events included typical bird walks, birding by boat, bicycle and kayak, birding for youth, beginners and advanced birders, birding with wine and olive oil tastings. Sites extended beyond the Morro Bay area including the Kern National Wildlife Refuge, the Carrizo Plains Ecological Reserve, various ranches, Atascadero, San Luis Obispo, and Pismo Beach. Check out the Long Report of the Festival Events Including Details on the website. More details than you will need to convince you to make next year’s festival are found at morrobaybirdfestival.org.
Scott (right) and Steve (left) while birding with Sneed in Marin County last fall. (I don’t know why Scott’s head looks a bit squished. I blame climate change, not my photographic skills.)
You may have noticed more references to gulls in our recent posts (see, for instance, “Birding Race Point” and “In Search of the Marbled Murrelet”). Or maybe not. Either way, Braden’s and my interest in gulls has been on the rise in recent years, and for good reason. Gulls are fascinating, beautiful, adaptable creatures worthy of attention. “So why didn’t you pay more attention to them before?” Roger, Scott, and some of our other loyal (and snarky) readers may ask. The reason is simple: gulls are hard. Many of the adults look similar, but if that isn’t perplexing enough, most gull species go through multiple molts which make them look radically different seasonally and from year to year—and frustratingly similar to other gulls in their various molts. The bottom line: to even approach competence identifying gulls, you have to devote a LOT of time to it, and finally, after about a decade of birding, Braden and I have felt ready to dip our toes into this task. Imagine our delight, then, to discover the release of a brand new book from Amar Ayyash, The Gull Guide: North America (Princeton University Press, 2024).
As soon as I heard about The Gull Guide, Amy and I bought a copy for Braden for Christmas. I quickly realized, however, that I wanted a copy of my own, so I contacted Princeton University Press and asked if they would like me to review the book. A week later, my own fresh copy arrived. Flipping through it, I recognized that I may have taken on more than I bargained for. The Gull Guide, I saw, is no mere specialized guide to a group of birds. It is a magnum opus—or in this case, a magnum gullpus—by one of the world’s foremost authorities on a subject. But let’s get to it . . .
First Impressions: attractive design; gorgeous photographic illustrations; logically and intuitively organized; comfortable to hold in your hands (really!).
My first casual flip through The Gull Guide conjured up a deep feeling that I was holding the Rosetta Stone to an important part of the birding universe. Upon the author’s suggestion, I started by reading the introduction and, I gotta say, this alone made the book worth buying. To wit, even though I knew that gulls seem to thrive in human-created places such as garbage dumps and parking lots, I had no idea just how successful and adaptable they are. To quote the author, “No gull species is known to have gone extinct for as long as modern taxonomy has kept records (Dee 2018). In many ways, they are similar to Homo sapiens: omnivores exploiting and consuming whatever they cross paths with.”
The first gull I looked up in The Gull Guide is one of Braden’s and my favorite species, Heermann’s Gulls. I learned that these handsome rascals are known for landing on the backs of Brown Pelicans—and stealing fish right out of their pouches!They nest primarily on a single island in the Gulf of California.
About fifty species of gulls inhabit the planet (fewer than I would have guessed), and The Gull Guide provides coverage of thirty-two that have a presence in North America. The author divides these into three categories:
Small Tern-like and Hooded Gulls
Gulls in the genus Larus
The Herring Gull complex (which is also made up of Larus species, but stands out for the difficulty in identifying and classifying them)
This last fall, I spent a lot of time looking at Glaucous-winged Gulls, part of the “Herring Gull complex”—a large group of beefy white-headed gulls. Adult Glaucous-wingeds can usually be ID’ed by the gray-and-white wing tips. However, this entire group of gulls is especially known to hybridize with each other, often making them notoriously difficult to identify.
If I had any hope that The Gull Guidewould help me learn to easily identify all of these different species, the author quickly laid that fantasy to rest. “It is important to accept that identifying every gull 100 percent of the time is an impractical undertaking,” he states early in the book. “The sooner we come to terms with this, the sooner we’re able to enjoy gulls for what they are. Struggling with an identification should be looked at as an opportunity to grow and cultivate our craft.”
Yeah, sure. Easy for him to say! For my part, I was eager to start building my skills. I therefore proceeded to read the excellent chapters on gull body parts, molts, and overall identification features. Then, I swooped into chapters on individual species.
Loyal FSB readers will recall that we got our lifer Ivory Gull on Flathead Lake on Braden’s birthday in 2020. Hundreds of birders from Montana and several other states made the pilgrimage to see this rare Montana vagrant.
As you would expect, for each species the author provides a basic overview followed by detailed information on the bird’s range, identification, molts, and hybrids—an especially important discussion since gulls are famous for hybridizing with each other in ways that are often difficult, if not impossible, to figure out. Part of what makes the book so impressive, though, is the inclusion of up to dozens of color plates for each species. These show each bird in different molts as well as geographic variation within the species, and abundant examples of hybridization as well.
Although The Gull Guide is very useful for beginning birders, it is clearly written and designed to accommodate expert birders, including those who wish to make the study of gulls one of their primary birding pursuits. As someone in between those two extremes, I have been using the book to tease out some of the gull challenges I have myself encountered—distinguishing between hybrid Glaucous-winged Gulls and Herring Gulls, for instance, or Franklin’s versus Laughing Gulls.
While it’s a treat to catch Bonaparte’s Gulls as they move through Montana, Braden and I had a great chance to observe them on the East Coast this past fall. The distinct black “dot” behind the eye is a good way to ID these widespread gulls in non-breeding plumage. In breeding, it has a totally black head. It is the only gull to nest largely in trees.
I especially pored through the gulls we have here in Montana, beginning with our most common species, the Ring-billed Gull. Here, I noticed something that could use correction, or at least more explanation. Ring-billed Gulls can be readily found in many parts of Montana throughout the year, and yet the range map for the species shows them as “year-round” only in certain Great Lakes locations. Braden confirms they are also on the eastern seaboard throughout the year, and eBird bar charts also show them as present throughout the year in many other states. I’m sure the author knows this, so in the next edition, to avoid confusion, I’d like to see his reasoning or methodology for how the range map is created.
That aside, I am sure that The Gull Guidewill become a dog-eared companion for both Braden and me as our expertise and interest in this fascinating group of birds continues to grow. This isn’t the first reference book a beginning birder will want to buy, but I highly recommend it for anyone expanding birdwatching beyond their backyard feeders, or for those intrigued by gulls and their fascinating biology.
Overall Rating (on a scale of cool birds): Ross’s Gull (highest)
You can order The Gull Guide from your local independent bookstore, Buteo Books, or directly from Princeton University Press.Please tell them we sent you!
