Tag Archives: bird behavior

Dynamic Spring Birding in Deer Lodge

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When life hands you an opportunity—especially a birding opportunity—you’d better take it. We learned that the easy way last weekend when Phil Ramsey, dad of our birding buddy Nick, offered us a two-night stay at the Clark Fork Coalition’s amazing Dry Cottonwood Creek Ranch. Phil couldn’t join us, but on Friday Nick picked Braden and me up in his truck, and off we went.

Thanks to Montana’s abundant spring daylight, we reached Deer Lodge with plenty of time to bird and after a quick dinner at 4Bs, explored the back roads leading south from the prison. Nick’s top target for the weekend was a long-shot, Greater White-fronted Goose, while Braden especially wanted to see his first Golden Eagle of the year. Me? I had my own goal: Long-billed Curlews, a species Braden and I had seen only once before in Montana. Altogether, Braden figured that for the weekend we might pick up eight new year birds while I predicted ten.

This was Braden’s and my first good look at an (intermediate morph?) Swainson’s Hawk and the bird cooperated beautifully, sitting on this post for a full five minutes.

As we drove, we spotted a number of nice, albeit expected, birds: Mountain Bluebirds, American Kestrel, and a scattering of ducks. We also got to observe a beautiful Swainson’s Hawk on a telephone pole—the first real surprise of the weekend. As we turned right, down a dirt road, however, I suddenly shouted “Look out there!” Sure enough, three Long-billed Curlews hunted insects under beautiful evening light. Before the evening was out, we would tally 20 more of these graceful bizarre-looking birds, a number of them dancing out their courtship rituals.

Several pairs of curlews were feeling especially frisky but the females seemed a bit antagonized by the attention. Maybe the males should have opted for dinner and a movie?

Part of the weekend package was a personalized tour of the ARCO superfund ponds with Gary Swant (see post “For Birders, Every Year is a Big Year”). Nick, Braden, and I had been lucky enough to bird with Gary the last Christmas Bird Count, but we were eager to see how spring species differed from the area’s winter visitors. As expected, waterfowl were out in full force—including Eared, Horned, Western, and Red-necked Grebes. We enjoyed Red-breasted Mergansers and Nick spotted a Sora, but the real surprise was the number of loons—eight, all told. “That’s easily the most we’ve ever seen together,” Braden exulted.

We saw at least twenty Red-necked Grebes during our day with Gary—and enjoyed every single one of them! It’s easy to see why.

Leaving the ponds, Gary took us to a place near Anaconda that we’d never birded: Dutchman’s Slough where, within minutes, Braden nabbed his top weekend target, Golden Eagle. Then we noticed three wading birds in the distance and assumed they must be more Long-billed Curlews. One of them was, but the other two were something we’d never seen: Marbled Godwits in the middle of a grassy field! After bidding a fond farewell to Gary, we rounded out the day with one more great score—Solitary Sandpiper in a large puddle on the south edge of Deer Lodge.

We were sad to be leaving the next morning, but an unseasonal snow storm urged us home. On the drive, however, we decided to stop at Rock Creek, the site of Braden’s Eagle Project (see post “Five Valleys, Many Birds”). Almost as soon as we got out of the car, we spotted three more stunning year birds: Chipping Sparrow, Hermit Thrush, and shockingly, Lark Sparrow. The latter two were most likely just migrating through and we felt lucky to nab them as they often prove difficult to find in Montana.

The Clark Fork Coalition’s Dry Cottonwood Creek Ranch proved the perfect HQ for birding the spectacular Deer Lodge Valley.

So how did we do for the weekend? Well, we shattered our estimates for how many new year birds we might see, adding more than twenty to each of our lists. More important, the trip drove home a lesson for every birder: during spring migration, anything can show up—and does! Well, except for the elusive Greater White-fronted Goose! Sorry, Nick.

Owl Opportunity

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See Sneed read from his book Woodpeckers and Warblers at River Oaks Books in Houston, November 17 at 3 p.m. and at The Well-Read Moose in Coeur d’Alene (Idaho) on November 23 at 6 p.m.

On Thursday, November 8^th, my friend Eli and I were in the middle of a heated game of “Cup of Bluff” when my phone began going off. I saw that it was Nick and answered it.

“What’s going on?”

“Shh!” He was whispering.

“What?”

“I am at the Gravel Quarry standing, like, ten feet from a Saw-whet right now! Get your dad and get down here!”

He hung up and texted me his exact location. I raced upstairs and into my dad’s dark bedroom, abruptly waking him up from a nap. I told him the news. He yawned, and said, “Well, get your stuff! Let’s go!”

We rolled out of the house 10 minutes later, when Eli started his piano lesson with my mom. Nick was waiting for us at the Quarry, and as we pondered which routes would get us there the fastest, he sent us constant updates. According to him, it seemed like every bird at the Quarry was trying to make us miss the owl:

“A shrike just flew in and scared the owl, but it’s still in the same bush.”

“A mob of chickadees is trying to attack it! No!”

“Don’t let the Merlin distract you on the way in—go straight to the owl.”
This last thing was going to be particularly hard, as my dad still did not have Merlin for the year. Fortunately (and a little unfortunately), when we finally arrived, the Merlin was nowhere to be seen. We tiptoed down the hill into the forest section, and spotted Nick and his mom staring at a tree.

Though bored-looking, this Saw-whet was actually one of the most active owls we’ve ever seen!

“Look,” he said pointing straight into the tangle of branches, “See that puffball? That’s the bird.”

We looked right through and saw what Nick was calling the Northern Saw-whet Owl. It was looking away from us, but we could still sort of identify it. The view disappointed us, though, and my dad went around back of the tree to attempt some photos.

After about five minutes, the owl suddenly cocked its head and flew closer to my dad. We quietly joined him, and saw that the owl was now wide awake and perched in full sunlight.

“This is what he was doing when I first saw him,” whispered Nick.

“Look, there must be a mouse under there,” I said.

The Saw-whet’s eyes was intently following the rustle of leaves beneath him. Suddenly, he dove and retreated back to his previous spot within the bush. He hadn’t gotten the mouse, though, and eventually came back out into full view, his warm brown streaks and adorable golden eyes highlighted by the light of the sunset.

After about a half hour of photographing and staring at this new lifer, we left him alone.

The Gravel Quarry had scored again.

Northern Saw-whet Owl–another nemesis ticked off, and another great experience!

All About Alcids

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Braden here.

“Pigeon Guillem-wait, no that’s just a pigeon,” my dad said as we stood underneath the ferry dock in Anacortes, Washington, “I must have guillemots on the brain or something.”

Just then, a football-shaped bird shot out from underneath the platform we were on. It was jet black, with white wing patches and strawberry-red feet—an actual Pigeon Guillemot!

“Awesome!” I said as we high-fived, “It appeared just as you said it! Wait a minute…Marbled Murrelet.”

Unfortunately for us, a Marbled Murrelet did not shoot out from under the dock like the guillemot had, but we weren’t that disappointed. My dad hadn’t seen a guillemot since the year we started birding!

A Black Guillemot, identified from a Pigeon Guillemot by the lack of the black stripe across the wing patch.

The Pigeon Guillemot is a seabird belonging to a family of birds called Alcidae, or alcids. Alcids are the penguins of the north, and share many similarities: they both are much better in water than on land, they both(for the most part) live in the colder parts of oceans, and they even share the same coloring! Once upon a time, there was even an alcid that couldn’t fly, the Great Auk. Sadly, it went extinct in 1844 thanks to hunting and invasive species. Guess where the last individual lived? Iceland.

Iceland is a great place to start learning alcids. It has at least six fairly-regularly ocurring species: the Atlantic Puffin, Common Murre, Thick-billed Murre, Razorbill, Dovekie, and Black Guillemot, the last of which is the Arctic-dwelling cousin of the Pigeon Guillemots we saw in Washington.

When I was in Iceland, I saw all of these except the Dovekie, which, during the breeding season, only inhabits the pack ice of the high Arctic. Each one was under slightly different conditions. When it came to colonies, Puffins were the weakest of the bunch, digging burrows in dirt, while Razorbills nested in cracks and ledges on sheer rock cliffs. Unlike most birds, Razorbills actually lay lopsided eggs so that they will roll in a circle and not off the cliff. If not for seasickness and an angry ocean, I would’ve gotten to see Latrabjarg cliffs as we passed it, a huge expanse of rock in western Iceland home to 40% of the world’s nesting Razorbill population!

Razorbills are named for the white stripe that crosses their beaks.

We also saw Razorbills farther away from shore than the other alcids, some accompanying flightless chicks. Once the chicks are ready to leave the nest, one naturalist told me, it would jump straight off the cliff! The parent, and sometimes parents would then join it and undergo catastrophic molt—molting all of their feathers at the same time, meaning that for a few weeks, neither the adults or the chicks would be able to fly!

Not all alcids are as devoted parents, though. After a while, Atlantic Puffins just stop bringing food to the nest, forcing the starving chick to leave and fend for its own. And while this may be for many reasons, it is not for lack of food—using the spines on their bills, puffins can carry up to 20 fish at a time, unlike other alcids. The record for one bird is 80 fish!

Atlantic Puffins are declining in southern Iceland, as their main food supply, the sand eels, moves north. This also is affecting Arctic Terns.

Some alcids live all over the Northern Hemisphere, while others are much more localized For instance, while I saw Common Murres in both Iceland and Washington, every other species was unique to one of the locations. If you are looking for alcids, I suggest you start in Alaska, which is home to 17 species alone!

Birding the Galapagos

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As we watched these male frigate birds ardently advertising for a mate, a female landed next to one of them. Let the family begin! (photo by Sneed B. Collard III)

Almost exactly two years ago, our family was fortunate to visit the Galapagos Islands. Braden and I eagerly anticipated the birds we might see, but weren’t sure what birding might be like in one of the world’s most famous places. Our findings? That while the Galapagos is full of fascinating birds to see, it is one of the world’s best places to think more deeply about birds, their evolution, and behavior.

Upon arriving, the first thing we noticed is how tame Galapagos birds are. Many, after all, evolved with few predators to worry about, and this was clearly demonstrated as we hiked within a few feet of nesting Blue- and Red-footed Boobies, Magnificent Frigatebirds, and a sublime Galapagos Dove. Even Yellow Warblers hopped around our feet seemingly without fear. Just try getting close to one in Montana! This close proximity, of course, was great for photography, but also for watching bird behaviors up-close.

Watching these flightless (Galapagos) cormorants perform their intricate mating dance was one of many unexpected, delightful birding surprises we experienced in the islands. (photo by Sneed B. Collard III)

One time, we stood thirty feet from four or five male frigatebirds sitting in stick nests that they had built. When a female flew over, the males all spread their wings, puffed out their gular pouches, and “rattled” their beaks. It was their way of shouting “Choose me!” It worked too! As we watched, a female landed next to one of the males to begin the “dating” rituals.

The most interesting Galapagos birds were the finches. Perhaps the drabbest, least noticeable birds in the islands, the finches played a key role in helping Charles Darwin tease out the basics of evolution by natural selection. How? When he visited the islands in 1835, he collected many animal specimens—including finches—from the different islands. Back in England, a colleague informed him that the finches actually included many different species. This, along with observations he’d made on Galapagos tortoises and other species, helped Darwin realize how different habitats and conditions can shape animals and create new species.

One Galapagos finch that Darwin missed is the Coke-swilling Finch—a rare species we were lucky enough to see in action! (photo by Sneed B. Collard III)

During our visit to the islands, Braden and I barely got started learning to identify the different finches, but we soon began to distinguish between larger and smaller species. Evolution has especially acted on the birds’ beaks, both in size and shape, as the beaks are a key to what size seeds and other foods the birds can eat. Not surprisingly, the beaks have formed the basis of long-term studies by modern scientists, as documented in one of my favorite books, Jonathan Weiner’s excellent The Beak of the Finch: A Story of Evolution in Our Time. Check it out—and if you ever get a chance to visit the Galapagos, jump on it. It will permanently alter your perspective on birds and life on our amazing planet.

Braden and I never had any doubt about our Bird of the Trip. Every day, Blue-footed Boobies delighted us with their incredible flying and fascinating behaviors! (photo by Sneed B. Collard III)