Category Archives: Woodpeckers

College Search Birding in California

If you’ve been following FatherSonBirding for any length of time, you know two things about us: we love to travel and we love to bird. Sometimes we plan dedicated birding trips, but whenever possible, we like to go easy on our carbon footprints and fold birding into travel that we were going to do anyway. In the past year, for instance, I’ve been able to bird in Japan and Spain while taking family vacation trips I’d been planning for years. Often, I get to bird while taking business trips to, say, Texas or Missouri. Right now, Braden is birding his butt off while doing a semester of study abroad in Costa Rica. As the parent of two young people, another potential “double-dipping” birding opportunity arose when my children began thinking about college. After all, it’s a good idea to visit a college you might want to attend, right? Unfortunately, covid kai-boshed that possibility with Braden—though we did get to bird in New England when I took him back east to start his college career at the University of Maine. With my second child, Tessa, I’ve been more fortunate. Last week she and I took a lightning trip out to California to visit a couple of potential schools she is considering. Even better, we went to places I’d never gotten to bird.

Cal State Chico put on a show for us in its best spring colors. Not surprisingly, I saw some great birds there, too, including Red-shouldered Hawks, California Scrub-Jays, and Acorn Woodpeckers—right on campus!

After rising at 3:30 a.m., Tessa and I landed in Sacramento at the outrageously convenient hour of 9:00 a.m. It was a glorious, sunny California morning and we made a beeline to U.C. Davis, where I’d spent my own freshman year before transferring to U.C. Berkeley to finish out my college years. Davis had changed a lot, but I still managed to find my way around—though I did drive our rental car down a dedicated bike path, much to the consternation of dozens of student bicyclists trying to get to class! After a quick tour around campus, we found a parking spot downtown and decided to have lunch at Crepeville and while waiting in line, I finally had a chance to start looking around for birds. One of the huge regrets of my life is that I’d left California before I’d become a birder because, with the possible exceptions of Texas and Alaska, there is no better state in the union to bird. To wit, within yards of Crepeville, I spotted Yellow-rumped Warblers, a Black Phoebe, and a Western Bluebird—right in downtown Davis! But my college search birding had just begun!

**Just the name phoebe can’t help but melt a birder’s heart, but these Black Phoebes truly are handsome birds.**

After a quick tour of Davis we headed north to our primary college destination, Cal State Chico, which boasts a musical theatre program of particular interest to Tessa. We arrived in Chico pretty pooped from our already extensive exertions and checked into our hotel for a rest. The prospect of some deeper California birding, however, did not let me tarry long, and after twenty minutes I left Tessa to recharge while I headed to the dubiously named Hooker Oak Park.

Any trip to California is a chance to see some of California’s specialty birds—including Yellow-billed Magpies, which only live in selected areas of central California. On Braden’s instruction, one morning I got up early to drive to Durham High School, and sure enough, found me a pair!

To be honest, the park looked a little over-developed and ragged, and I wondered whether I should move to some healthier-looking oak groves just down the road. Then I reminded myself that this was California and birds were likely to be anywhere. Almost immediately, this was confirmed when I sighted one of the targets of my trip, an Oak Titmouse singing in a sycamore tree.

**What can I say? Oak Titmice are just plain adorable.**

I set out to explore further and birds popped out from left and right—including most of the birds I had hoped to see. I got super excited to see an Acorn Woodpecker—only to discover that they were everywhere in this park. Not long after, I encountered a Nuttall’s Woodpecker, the other woodpecker at the top of my list.

You can’t beat an Acorn Woodpecker on one of its acorn storage trees! With their black masks, these cooperative birds look like banditos, and the way they aggressively mob other species, they apparently can act that way, too.

Exploring further, I encountered California and Spotted Towhees, Golden and White-crowned Sparrows, and White-breasted Nuthatches.

With my lousy hearing and dearth of knowledge about California bird calls, Merlin’s Sound ID feature proved especially useful and helped me find several species, including California Quail. My biggest surprise of the outing were two Hermit Thrushes, which hadn’t been on my radar at all but do winter in the Central Valley.

One disappointment was that I didn’t hear or see any Red-shouldered Hawks, a particularly abundant species in California. As I was about to climb back into my rental car, however, I heard a familiar “Kee-a, kee-a, kee-a, kee-a!” and spotted a large reddish bird flying straight toward me. As it passed overhead and landed on a branch, I saw that it held a tasty mammalian morsel in its talons. Almost immediately, another Red-shouldered Hawk plowed in and displaced the first one, stealing its meal. I grinned. Not only did I get to see a RSHA, I got to see hawk behavior, too!

**This Red-shouldered Hawk drove another RSHA off its prey, which it now holds firmly in its grasp.**

The next two days, Tessa and I visited with some of my most cherished friends, who had happened to move to Chico decades before, and, oh yeah, we took a great tour of the Chico campus. The campus, I gotta say, mightily impressed both Tessa and me. Chico is part of the WUE college exchange program, meaning that if any of you Montana parents are also contemplating schools, you can get big discounts on out-of-state tuition. But back to the birds, I continued to see awesome birds everywhere we went. I did want to get in a visit to another bona fide natural area, though, so the day of our campus tours, I woke early and drove out to Bidwell-Sacramento River State Park, about fifteen minutes out of town.

**In the parking lot of Bidwell-Sacramento River State Park, I got my best looks ever at another California specialty, Nuttall’s Woodpecker.**

I arrived before dawn—actually a bit early for the birds—but a group of 55 Wild Turkeys greeted me, so I went ahead and set off on dew-soaked trails paralleling the river. I had set a goal of 50 bird species for this California trip and began the day at about 45—but quickly blew past that. Almost immediately, I saw Wood Ducks hanging out in the trees and spotted two pairs of kingfishers bickering over the river. As the day warmed, more species kept appearing: a Great Egret and Great Blue Herons, tons of flickers and Tree Swallows, Ruby-crowned Kinglets and White-breasted Nuthatches, a pair of Turkey Vultures trying to get their engines started.

**It’s easy to forget that Wood Ducks nest in trees—something I was quickly reminded of at Bidwell-Sacramento River State Park!**

After an hour, I began making my way back to the parking lot and spotted a group of Dark-eyed Juncos and White-crowned Sparrows ahead. Then, I saw something that really got me going: a small, brownish bird with short, vertical lines at the top of its breast and a yellowish wash. Lincoln’s Sparrow! And not one, but two of them! I managed only lousy photos, but was thrilled to see one of Braden’s and my favorite Montana birds hanging out in its winter habitat—and just before migration. Is it possible I will see these exact same birds in Montana in a few short weeks???

**Yay! Lincoln’s Sparrow—in its winter habitat. This, btw, was one of only two species I added to my California life list, which now stands at 226 species.** **The other was Common Merganser.**

That evening, after our tour and our drive back to Sacramento, I rallied myself for one more birding mission. After checking into our hotel in Woodland, I drove about five miles to where I-5 crosses the Sacramento River. I got off on some small side roads and began scouring fields and places with standing water. I found a few Northern Shovelers and a trio of Black-necked Stilts, but not what I was looking for. Then, I parked and began walking on a path that led back toward the interstate. Almost immediately, I saw a group of about 200 geese in a verdant field. I raised my binoculars and grinned. Yes! Greater White-fronted Geese! The last species I had really hoped to see on the trip. I stood and watched them for about ten minutes, as other geese flew over, circled around, and joined the throng. It was a perfect ending for what turned out to be a perfect college—and birding—trip.

California Trip Report: https://ebird.org/tripreport/214105

**My last target bird of the trip, Greater White-fronted Geese, captured just as the sun was setting on Sacramento.**

Avian Reveal: Our Five Picks for New Bird Names

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We had planned to publish this post on Thanksgiving, but were in Minnesota and the “auto publish” tool failed—and not for the first time. Still, we hope you enjoy this post-Thanksgiving post, and even more, we hope you all had a lovely long weekend with friends and family. Braden and I have much to be grateful for—including you, our faithful readers—and thank you for your interest and enthusiasm over the years. Now get out there and bird!

Lest you think the birding community is immune from internecine disputes, I present to you two issues that have been roiling birders for the past decade: the woeful situation of horrible state bird choices, and the more recent—and contentious—decision by the American Ornithological Society to begin changing English language common names of all birds named after people. Braden recently addressed the disgraceful situation surrounding our state birds in his post “Getting Serious About State Birds”. Today, I’d like to tackle the AOS’s earth-shaking naming decision.

If you’re a birder, you pretty much have to be living under a rock not to know about this recent shocker. A complete, explanatory news release can be found here, but basically, the American Ornithological Society has long assumed responsibility for the English language common names of all American birds. After years of debate, it has decided to axe all eponymous bird names—those honoring specific individuals. This decision has triggered several immediate results. One is to improve the vocabulary of millions of Americans (myself included) who have had to look up the word “eponymous” in the dictionary. The second is to unleash a foaming volcano of vitriol as birders across America—nay, the world—have vigorously defended and attacked the new policy.

I’ll just come out and say that both Braden and I generally support the AOS decision, but as with most things, the matter is more nuanced than passionate social media posts lead you to believe. There’s no question that certain eponymous names can be deemed offensive, but there are plenty of others that you have to try really hard to be offended by—and it’s a shame we have to chuck the baby out with the (bird) bath water. Unfortunately, failing to do so would ignite endless, often pointless debate about each and every eponymous bird name that exists. All of that time, energy, and money is better spent protecting birds rather than debating their names, and so the AOS wisely decided to wipe the slate clean.

Rather than add to the already burdensome body of opinion flooding the media, Braden and I decided it would be fun simply to pick five of our favorite Rocky Mountains birds that will be impacted by this decision—and try to come up with the perfect new names for each. We hope you will weigh in with your own (non-offensive) thoughts about our choices, as well as your own (non-offensive) alternatives. We will start with perhaps our favorite North American warbler—and perhaps the most difficult to rename.

MACGILLIVRAY’S WARBLER

One of the ironies of MacGillivray’s Warbler is that it was named after an 18^th-century Scottish ornithologist who devoted much of his life to, you guessed it, coming up with better names for British birds! Names such as Red-throated Thistlefinch, Quaketail, and Provence Furzeling—none of which survived the test of time. MacGillivray was a controversial figure and apparently offended almost everyone during his lifetime, but that didn’t stop John James Audubon from naming one of our most spectacular American warblers after him. I mean, just look at this bird. He’s not as showy as some others, but his colors are refined, sophisticated. Any lady of quality will recognize it—and if his looks don’t do it, his sweet sophisticated song will clinch the deal. Braden and I always stop when a MGWA pops out of a bush, and we’re not the only ones. But what should the AOS call it?

The bird breeds in shrubby places, often near streams or in recent burn areas, but somehow Shrubby Warbler or Second-growth Warbler don’t seem deserving of this special bird. As far as its looks, Hooded Warbler and Mourning Warbler are already taken—and honestly, aren’t all that great anyway. The partial white eye rings stand out, and are an identification key, so perhaps Crescent-Eyed Warbler? Its hood also gives off a velvet or satiny sheen, so Velvet-hooded Warbler? Quicksilver Warbler? Silver-headed Warbler? After much agonizing, we have landed on Satin Crescent-Eye. Of the five birds included here, this one poses the toughest challenge, so we’d love to hear your suggestions!

CLARK’S NUTCRACKER

When William Clark, of the famous Lewis and Clark Expedition, first saw a Clark’s Nutcracker, he thought it was a woodpecker. However, that didn’t prevent the bird from becoming one of the most iconic species of the West. Clark’s Nutcrackers are especially known for planting high-altitude pine forests—especially those of the White-barked Pine. Each bird caches thousands of pine seeds, far more than it can use, and the overlooked seeds sprout into new forests. The birds and trees are so interconnected that the pines have actually evolved changes in the shapes of their seeds and cones that facilitate dispersal by the nutcracker. Because of this important and fascinating relationship, Braden and I hereby vote to bestow the bird with the name Whitebark Nutcracker. Long live the nutcracker!

LEWIS’S WOODPECKER

Despite the rather embarrassing ID mistake with the Clark’s Nutcracker, the Lewis & Clark Expedition did end up being honored with a woodpecker after all—the Lewis’s Woodpecker. Renaming this bird has engendered spirited debate on Facebook and elsewhere, perhaps because Lewis’s may be America’s most stunning woodpecker. With a green back that often looks black, a subtle gray collar, and an absolutely spectacular watermelon-colored breast and face, the bird has inspired a host of potential names such as Glamorous Woodpecker, Pink-and-Green Woodpecker, and Silver-scarfed Glossy Woodpecker. To us, these kinds of names seem a bit plebian and uninspired. Not only that, the decline of the species is most closely related to the loss of a particular type of tree, so why not bestow a name that involves some education as well? Because of this, we officially propose—nay, insist—that this bird henceforth be called the Cottonwood Woodpecker.

TOWNSEND’S SOLITAIRE

Both Townsend’s Solitaire and Townsend’s Warbler—not to mention at least half a dozen mammals—are named after noted 19^th-century naturalist John Kirk Townsend. Townsend came from an ardently anti-slavery Quaker family and accompanied renowned botanist Thomas Nuttall (Nuttall’s Woodpecker) on an 1834 expedition across the Rocky Mountains to the Pacific. During this time, Townsend collected numerous specimens new to Western science—including, coincidentally—MacGillivray’s Warbler! As if all that wasn’t enough to make us love Townsend’s Solitaires, this is a bird that symbolizes the onset of winter, as it descends to our neighborhood after its mountain breeding season. Add to that its lively, musical song and subtle good looks, and the bird has had no trouble flying into our hearts. The AOS decision also gives us a chance to bestow the perfect, slam-dunk name on the bird: Silver Solitaire.

LINCOLN’S SPARROW

You might think that if ever a bird deserves to keep its eponymous name, it’s got to be Lincoln’s Sparrow, right? I mean who can argue with the president that consistently sits atop the list of greatest presidents in our nation’s history? Alas, the bird isn’t named for that Lincoln. Instead, Audubon named it after the 21-year-old son of a friend, Thomas Lincoln, who accompanied him on an expedition to Labrador, Canada. Audubon had not seen a Lincoln’s Sparrow before, but when one popped up, Thomas Lincoln immediately shot it with a slingshot. Even with that fairly bittersweet story, Lincoln’s Sparrow rules our favorite sparrows list.

This bird exudes charm. It breeds in boggy habitats, usually among willows and often near taller perching trees. It sings a complex, multi-part composition that brightens any landscape, and will often pop out on a branch to give birders excellent viewing experiences. Though subtle, its colors are striking. A yellow wash on its breast and “moustache” contrast most beautifully with its gray and rufous head and white eye ring. The subtlety of its colors, however, and superficial resemblance to other sparrows, makes the bird particularly challenging to rename. Swamp Sparrow, after all, is already taken. Our friend, ornithologist Dick Hutto, suggests Willow Sparrow and that’s not half-bad, but we feel the bird deserves something more inspiring. We therefore dub it . . . Autumn Sparrow! This name not only matches its colors, but coincides with one of the two seasons when many U.S. birders have their best shot at seeing the bird since it can only be found in most states during migration.

So that’s a wrap. We’ve done the heavy listing for the AOS on some of America’s favorite birds. Now, the committee will just have to roll up its sleeves and figure out the other 75 or so species on their immediate list! Braden and I wish them good luck—and if they run into trouble, they know who to call. Our rates are very reasonable.

Sifting Through Maine’s Fall Migrants

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Congratulations to Braden for having his first full-length article published, in the July/August 2023 issue of Bird Watcher’s Digest! The editor actually plucked the piece from our blog post “Montana Shorebird Surprise”! If you don’t already subscribe to BWD, I strongly encourage you to do so. It is packed with fun and interesting articles about all aspects of birds and birding—and honestly, magazines like this need our help to keep promoting bird conservation and foster our birding community. Learn more by clicking here. Meanwhile, enjoy Braden’s new fall migration report from Maine.

October, in Maine, is usually a major cutoff point for neotropical migrants. Warblers, specifically, seem to disappear from the state right around October 1st, having already moved through in large numbers in late August and September. Last year, I barely detected any warblers after the October curtain dropped, with my only species being Yellow-rumped and Palm Warblers (which are later migrants and do stick around until November) and two Tennessee Warblers that I worked my butt off to find on the first of the month.

**Oct. 1 is usually about the cutoff for seeing fall warbler migrants in Maine, leaving residents such as Downy Woodpeckers and . . .**

Because of this knowledge, I had no expectations when I hit the University of Maine Bike Path last weekend, October 7th. I had already birded the path several times this fall, once by myself (when I scored great looks at two Ovenbirds and a Canada Warbler, both of which were long gone by now) and once with the University of Maine Birding Club, which I had restarted in mid-September. This was the same path, though, that offered up American Woodcocks and American Bitterns in spring; the same place that hundreds of salamanders and frogs would migrate across on rainy nights in April. Unfortunately, none of those animals were active now, so again, I had no expectations and was pleasantly surprised to run into a flock of Yellow-rumped Warblers and other birds right off the bat.

**Ruby-crowned Kinglets are one of the “later” songbird migrants—in Maine as well as in Montana. I saw 17 of them on this outing!**

In fall, my birding strategy is to find the mixed flocks and sift through them until I’m reasonably sure I’ve identified all of the species. I did just this with the flock, finding a Palm Warbler, several Ruby-crowned Kinglets, and a Blackpoll Warbler in its drab, green winter plumage, adorned with orange feet. In terms of warblers, Blackpoll Warblers are one of the later migrants in Maine, and travel the farthest of any of the group, heading east from their boreal breeding grounds before flying south straight across the Atlantic Ocean to South America. I’d seen several in the Adirondacks this summer, in their spiffy black and white plumage, and it was nice getting to wave goodbye to them for the winter.

**Swamp Sparrows are a real find in Montana, but on my birding walk today, I counted at least 33 of them—a low estimate!**

After pishing in a few more mixed flocks, I reached one of the the bike path’s main attractions—a large, weedy field, hosting tall goldenrod and other plants that reminded me of the Fort Missoula gravel quarry back home. This, like the gravel quarry, was Sparrow Central. I waded out into the grass, flushing flocks of Song and Swamp Sparrows into the bushes, from where they watched me carefully as I checked each and every one of them. Ruby-crowned Kinglets chattered from the aspens and birches lining the perimeter of the field, and I pished at them with every chance I got, searching for anything rare. Soon, amongst a group of White-throated and Savannah Sparrows, I spotted a smaller, more crisply-patterned sparrow hop up onto a bramble: the Lincoln’s I had been hoping for! My dad and I had gotten our lifer Lincoln’s Sparrows in fall, and while I had seen and heard many this summer between the Adirondacks and the joint Western Field Ornithologists and Colorado Field Ornithologists conference I attended in alpine Colorado, I still sought out these stunning birds every time the colors on the trees began to change.

**My dad went out four times last week before he found a White-throated Sparrow migrating through Missoula. I counted 23 of them on my single outing**!

The Lincoln’s Sparrow abruptly disappeared as a small, yellow bird took its place: a Nashville Warbler, about a week after the last Nashville Warblers should have left for Central America! A few minutes later, in another horde of kinglets, I briefly spotted a Tennessee Warbler. Yay! The warblers were still here!

It wasn’t until I circled back over to the far end of the grassy field, however, that I found my real prize. As I sorted through yet another flock of kinglets and sparrows, I spotted it: a greenish, grayish warbler. Now, in Maine, in fall, this could describe just about every species of warbler since most have adopted relatively drab nonbreeding plumage. Nonetheless, I started checking off options in my head, narrowing it down.

The body was mostly green, with a green throat. That eliminated Palm, Pine, Nashville, Yellow-rumped, and any of the more colorful fall warblers. The head, meanwhile, contrasted with the green—it was slate gray, and the bird had broken eye-arcs. Those two features alone, plus a total lack of yellow or white, eliminated Blackpoll, Bay-breasted and Chestnut-sided. That left two species. Tennessee Warblers are easily identified in fall by their white vents (butt feathers)—but this bird’s vent was green. The bird I was looking at was one my dad has surely seen many times this fall and paid little attention to—an Orange-crowned Warbler!

**While migrating fall Orange-crowned Warblers are fairly common in Montana, in Maine they qualify as a genuine rarity!**

Orange-crowned Warblers are fairly common in most of the United States. They breed throughout the Rockies and are commonly seen in migration and winter across the country. They avoid Maine in migration, however, and don’t breed in the state, so this warbler is quite a rarity here! What’s more, early October is actually one of the best times to find them here, which is not the case for any other common Maine warbler. I celebrated for a moment before whipping out my camera to snap some photos of the bird, which I assumed I would need to prove that I’d actually seen it.

After the Orange-crowned Warbler moved on, I continued to walk the rest of the bike path, finding more flocks of sparrows, thrushes, and the occasional warbler. I even heard a few pipits fly over as I headed to McDonald’s for a respite from UMaine’s dining hall food. I’d had my best fall day of birding so far this year. Hopefully, more great birding was to come!

Fall Birding in Glacier National Park

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Last week, after speaking at the monthly meeting of Flathead Audubon (see post “Birding with the President”), I spent the night with my gracious hosts, Darcy and Rob Thomas, and rose at 5 a.m. for a birding excursion to Glacier National Park. Powered by an egg and sausage burrito from City Brew, I made it to the park by 7:00 and rumbled and bumped my way up Inner North Fork Road. Braden, Nick Ramsey, and I had been here only five weeks before on a quest to find me a Lifer Spruce Grouse, and guess what? I was still on that quest! Today, though, I decided to try a different route, the Camas Creek Trail that leads east toward the heart of the park. I arrived to find the little parking area totally empty and, after strapping on my fanny pack, and slinging my camera and binoculars over my shoulders, set out under a dawn sky.

**Sunrise at Camas Meadow. Need I say more?**

Entering a patch of woods, I walked quietly and raised my senses to full alert. I didn’t want to scare away a Spruce Grouse along the trail, but I also wanted to spot a grizzly bear before it spotted me! Of course, park officials recommend hiking noisily to alert bears to your presence, but for birders this obviously is a counterproductive strategy. Bear spray would probably have been a good idea, but as usual I forgot to bring any. Within a quarter mile of the trailhead, however, I got a good scare.

I was rounding a bend with some trees on the right when suddenly a large shape launched from a branch and spread enormous gray wings. Owl! my brain shouted as my heart hammered, but which kind? The park contained only two large-owl possibilities: Great Gray and Great Horned. I hurried forward, trying to see where it was headed, but failed miserably. Without ever facing toward me, it disappeared through some trees, never to be seen again. My gut and the length of the owl’s wings tells me it was a Great Gray Owl but I will never know. Sigh.

After that startling start, my hike settled down. I reached Camas Meadow just as the sun began peeking over the Continental Divide and savored being absolutely alone in one of the world’s most beautiful places. I got here so early that the birds were off to a slow start. I saw a few flitting around, and Merlin’s Sound ID feature informed me that they were Pine Siskins and Yellow-rumped Warblers. It also told me that the chickadees I was hearing were Mountain Chickadees. Other than that, the action languished.

**Despite this rather poor image, one of the highlights of my Camas Meadow trail hike was the abundance of Yellow-rumped Warblers fattening up for migration.**

Fortunately, that held true on the grizzly bear front, too. I passed some scat, but it looked like black bear poop (smaller, full of berries, less messy), and was old to boot. In fact, I passed few fruiting plants relative to other places I’d recently visited in western Montana—a fact that might bode poorly for possible grouse sightings.

I hiked for about two, two-and-a-half miles, before pausing for a drink of water and, reluctantly, turning around. Fortunately, as I began retracing my route, rising temperatures seemed to lead to greater bird activity. Most impressive were the number of Yellow Warblers. I tallied at least 30, but am sure I undercounted. Their chips sprung from many locations, and I also spotted a couple of Ruby-crowned Kinglets (one boldly displaying its red crown), Dark-eyed Juncos, and Pine Siskins. An occasional Northern Flicker called sharply overhead.

I was surprised to spot this Red-naped Sapsucker in Glacier. I hadn’t realized they hung around Montana quite so long!

About halfway back to the car, I saw a small brown bird flitting about in a bush. Its furtive skulking behavior distinguished it from the other birds I’d been seeing, so I stopped and raised my binoculars, waiting for a clear look. It took a few moments, but it finally showed itself—a Lincoln’s Sparrow! One day, Braden and I will have to list our Top 10 Favorite Sparrows, but for me, Lincoln’s is Number One. Not only does it display a gorgeous, subtle color palette, it seems to have a more curious, delightful nature than other sparrows. When Braden and I began birding almost a decade ago, a Lincoln’s Sparrow was the first sparrow that really made a big impression on me. We devoted several outings to the chase before finally seeing one, so maybe its uncommonness also has something to do with my ranking.

**This delightful Lincoln’s Sparrow captured “Bird of the Hike” honors for my visit to Camas Meadow.**

After spending a few minutes with Mr. Lincoln’s, I continued hiking. A Red-naped Sapsucker surprised me. Then, I heard a series of eerie whooping noises that reminded me a bit of an Osprey. “What the heck?” I muttered. Then I saw it: a Canada Jay swooping in for a landing high in a nearby tree. A couple of other CAJAs also appeared. The jays, one of my favorite corvids, always delight with their antics and these provided a great way to wrap up my hike. Yes, I had once again missed a Spruce Grouse, but I’d gotten a good sense for what’s going on with the birds in Glacier this time of year. That was invaluable knowledge in my continuing education as a birder. It also happened to make a real contribution to science in the park.

**I had no idea what was making that eerie looping call—until I saw this Canada Jay fly to a nearby treetop.**

Returning home, I looked up how many eBird checklists have been posted for Camas Creek Trail in the fall. To my astonishment, mine was only the second ever checklist for September! (The other list, from later in the month, noted only three species.) A couple of lists have been posted later, but my own provides the only eBird data for this interesting time of year. Now I know this sounds like boasting, but I mention it to emphasize two important facts:

Even though birding has been around a long time, HUGE gaps remain in what we know about almost every bird species, its movements, and habits.
Your citizen science contributions matter. Sometimes it’s a pain or inconvenient to post what you see on eBird, but you just never know when you will be providing crucial information to a scientist or policy expert wanting to learn something new or make an important decision.

And really, could it get any better? Contributing to knowledge while being out having a great time? I don’t think so. Just keep an eye out for those grizzly bears.

Birding Treasure at Garnet Ghost Town

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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.

Our checklist for the Garnet approach road.

**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.

Our Garnet Ghost Town checklist.