Tag Archives: Father-Son Birding

Braden’s First Costa Rica Report: Monteverde

Many annoying things have kept me (Sneed) from birding so far this year. Not so Braden, who is enjoying a semester abroad in the town of San Ramón, Costa Rica. In just his first few days, he tallied almost 100 Life Birds—and he’s just getting started. Here is his first report, from a weekend trip to the cloud forest haven of Monteverde, where I visited to research a book almost thirty years ago.

The town of San Ramón and its colorful, ramshackle buildings sits in an ecological crossroads as far as Costa Rica’s ecosystems are concerned, located near Caribbean slope rainforest, Pacific slope dry forest and high-altitude cloud forest. The dry tropical forest, situated in the northwest part of the country, is a habitat characterized by distinct dry and wet seasons. The southwestern part of the country (including the Osa Peninsula) holds tropical rainforest, and these two habitats constitute the “Pacific Slope.” The “Caribbean Slope,” meanwhile, is all rainforest, although its communities differ from those of the Pacific rainforests. Why? Several large mountain ranges run through the middle of the country, reaching heights of 3,800m (about 12,500 feet) in the Talamancas to the south. These mountain ranges not only separate species living on the Pacific Slope from those living on the Caribbean Slope, but also hold another, incredibly important ecosystem: the cloud forest. This ecosystem is the one I’d been most wanting to visit since learning about it a decade ago, and so, on the first of our semester’s sixteen three-day weekends, two fellow UMaine students, Kiley Chen and Leah Hart, and I caught the bus towards Santa Elena for a two-night adventure.

Okay, maybe we do look a little TOO happy in this photo, but can you blame us? We’re in COSTA RICA!!!

The long and winding bus ride did not do good things for our stomachs, but soon enough, we arrived in Santa Elena. The next morning, we caught a taxi up the mountain to the Monteverde Cloud Forest Biological Reserve. Despite the fact that this reserve is a well-known tourist destination, especially during the dry season (December-April), Kiley, Leah and I were the first people to arrive, and proceeded to spend the next seven hours exploring the cloud forest, hiking nearly every trail available to us. It blew our minds.

Cloud forests are especially known for their CRAZY abundance and diversity of epiphytes—plants that grow on other plants.

A forest with nearly 100% humidity year-round is a botanist’s dream. Giant bromeliads grew from every branch, and we could hardly see the bark on the trees because of the high densities of moss and lichen. Thick, woody vines (known as lianas) hung down from above, and prehistoric-looking tree ferns, with the trunk of a tree and the leaves of a fern, rose above us. At one point we walked across a red, metal bridge suspended above a gully, and we could see just how the habitat had received its name. Powerful winds carried large fogbanks through the trees, and we could not see more than thirty or so feet out from any viewpoint because of the mist. These constant clouds, caused by winds from the east and high-altitude condensation, lead to the air being constantly saturated with water, allowing a luxuriance of plants to grow here. High concentrations of plants usually mean high concentrations of animals, and the animals we saw did not disappoint. Leah rescued several giant millipedes from the path during our hike, and at one point we saw a group of White-nosed Coatis approach us, completely fearless as they foraged for insects in the damp soil. From the suspended bridge we spotted a large mixed flock of birds, including Ruddy Treerunners, Spotted Barbtails, Spangle-cheeked Tanagers, Prong-billed Barbets and a variety of warblers (including some that spend the summer in Maine!). And, after returning to the entrance to ask directions, we finally found ourselves sitting on a wet bench, staring at an epiphyte-laden tree looking for Resplendent Quetzals.

Spangle-cheeked Tanager.

The Resplendent Quetzal is not the national bird of Costa Rica, but with all of the attention it garners, it might as well be. We spotted a female in the tree as we first arrived, admiring its deep, emerald green plumage reflecting light through the mist. The real prize we sought, however, was the male—a bird of emerald and ruby, with green tail streamers up to three feet long. These birds are altitudinal migrants, meaning that they spend the non-breeding season at lower elevations. During the breeding season, they travel upslope to the cloud forest to feed on wild avocados and raise young. They are icons of the cloud forest, a rare animal living in a rare habitat. Eventually, as we sat on that bench, we did spot a male, although the look was incredibly brief and unsatisfying. What was satisfying were the other animals that paid us a visit : Spider Monkeys. After sitting there for about thirty minutes, we suddenly spotted movement in the tree ahead of us. From the leaves emerged a pair of long-limbed, rust-orange monkeys, a mother and baby, and we watched spellbound as they swung effortlessly from branch to branch in front of us. It was awesome.

Spider Monkey.

Emerging from the forest, we made a stop at Café Colibri, a restaurant known for and named after the feeders it hangs in the garden outside, and the animals that visit those feeders. At Café Colibri, we spotted seven different species of hummingbirds, almost thirty or so different individuals, each zipping right by our faces in search of sugar water. The hummingbirds had a hierarchy, with the large Violet Sabrewings bullying many of the smaller birds. My favorite of the hummers were the Purple-throated Mountain-gems, the males of which had turquoise foreheads and violet gorgets that shimmered in the sunlight.

Purple-throated Mountain-gem.

We walked back down the road to Santa Elena, admiring the rainbows formed by the mist being blown down the mountain. Following a short rest, we headed out again, this time with a guide to see what animals dwelled in the mountain forests at night. The night walk exceeded our expectations. Our guide, Brandon, pointed out all manner of animals, including Pygmy Rain Frogs, a Robust Climbing Salamander, a Horned Tarantula, an Orange-kneed Tarantula, a Stripe-sided Palm Pitviper loafing in a tree, and two Keel-billed Toucans, fast asleep above us (or they were, until someone pointed a light at them). At one point Brandon wetted a stick with his lips and used it to try to draw a tarantula out of its burrow for us. On our walk back to the entrance to the forest, we spooked a Mottled Owl from its perch in a large banana tree.

Our weekend in Monteverde abounded with sightings of wildlife, and while it may sound like an out-of-reach location for college students, it’s not! The Gilman Scholarship, a scholarship specifically provided to low-income students looking to study abroad and experience new places, is a large part of how I was able to afford going to Costa Rica this semester. If you’re looking to go to Costa Rica, or Ireland, or Japan, or anywhere else, but are worried about the costs, I highly recommend applying for the Gilman. It’s easy to apply, and can support you following your dreams of spending part of your college experience in another country. If you’re enjoying learning about my time abroad and want to have a similar experience of your own, I could not recommend the Gilman more. 

Monteverde was just the first place I’ve visited since I’ve been here in Costa Rica, and I already have more weekend trips planned for the next few weeks, so be sure to check out my next blog to learn about the other cool wildlife and ecosystems I see!

Collared Trogon—named after our family, of course!

Our Official 2023 FSB Recap: Bird Names, Bird Clubs, and Lifers

2023 proved to be another wildly surprising year for the FatherSonBirding team. Not only did Braden and I see birds we never dreamed we’d see, but birding opportunities and the enthusiasm of our loyal FSB followers exceeded every expectation. But first, some 2023 stats:

Blogs Posted: 32

FSB Views: 9,361 (easily eclipsing last year’s record of 7,185)

Most Viewed Post: Avian Reveal: Our Five Picks for New Bird Names (598 views)

In addition to the above stats, we surpassed 30,000 lifetime blog views and have now published 174 posts since we began FSB in 2018. Even though this is far short of what is required to annoy you with paid advertisements, it’s still remarkable to us. When we began FSB, Braden and I thought we might keep at it for a year or two at most. Now, almost six years later, FSB has actually generated a body of work that we are immensely proud of. It’s been a way for us to share our adventures, promote birding, and connect with other birders. It’s also been a fun vehicle for educating others about birds and bird conservation. So let’s get to 2023’s highlights for each of us.

This stunning Spruce Grouse featured greatly in Sneed’s 2023 birding highlights!

Sneed’s 2023 Birding Highlights

Japan: Without a doubt, my biggest highlight of the year was taking my daughter, Tessa, to Japan for three weeks. Together, we created a lifetime of memories in a country we loved even more than we thought we would. As you all discovered with my posts about Tokyo, Kyoto, Kanazawa, and other places, I got in plenty of birding, adding 28 species to my Life List and getting to know more than fifty species of common Japanese birds. (Note that Kanazawa is near the epicenter of this morning’s 7.5 earthquake. We are thinking of all of you over there, and hope everyone is safe!)

One of my favorite Japanese birds, a male Daurian Redstart.

Birding Eastern Montana: Thanks to assignments from Montana Outdoors magazine, I had the opportunity to drive out to Westby with my childhood buddy, Scott Callow. We not only hit hotspots such as Bowdoin NWR, Plentywood, Makoshika SP, and Bear Canyon, we had a wonderful visit with FWP biologist Heather Harris who took us on an up-close-and-personal visit to some of Montana’s healthiest short-grass prairie. There, we got my best looks ever at Sprague’s Pipits, Chestnut-collared Longspurs, and other prairie residents.

Heading to Westby with my friend Scott was not only a great way to see great Montana birds, but a rare chance to catch up with a lifelong friendship!

Adding Montana Lifers: While in Westby, Scott and I saw my first Piping Plover in Montana, but during the rest of the year—and with the help of other Montana birders—I also added three species to my all-time worldwide Life List: Sagebrush Sparrow (Bear Canyon), American Golden-plover (Mission Valley), and Spruce Grouse (Mission Mountains).

This Sagebrush Sparrow was probably my favorite new ABA Lifer of 2023–and proves that great things can come in small packages!

In addition to the above highlights, Braden and I got to bird together several times, including a breakneck trip to Glacier NP with our buddy, Nick Ramsey. I also had the pleasure of meeting a lot of other Montana birders at Wings Across the Big Sky and the meeting of Flathead Audubon. At the beginning of 2023, I had entertained visions of breaking my Montana Big Year record with my work trips to eastern Montana—but didn’t. I came close, however, racking up 253 species, including my last two: Short-eared Owl and Northern Shrike on Braden’s and my last big Montana outing. And now . . .

Despite Braden and Nick’s busy lives getting educated and building their birder resumés, we all managed to squeeze in a quick 3-day trip to Freezeout Lake and Glacier National Park last summer.

Braden’s 2023 Birding Highlights

Eastern Songbirds: A long-time goal of mine has been to learn the eastern songbirds, specifically the eastern wood-warblers, by ear. This summer, thanks to my job doing point counts in the woods of northeastern Pennsylvania, I succeeded at that goal, solidifying nearly two dozen warbler songs in my mental repertoire, including those of Magnolia, Canada, Mourning and Golden-winged Warblers. Beyond that, I got to spend all of May and June, and some of July, romping around the forests of the Appalachians, learning about the ecology of all of these species. I fell in love with Golden-winged Warblers, with their specialized habitat needs and endearing personalities, and came to know not only the species of birds in these forests, but also the trees the birds were using. Highlighted by a trip to Cape May and a trip to the Adirondacks, my summer in Pennsylvania may have taught me more about the natural world than any summer I’ve lived through yet!

Getting to know Eastern warblers—including Golden-winged Warblers—fulfilled a long-held ambition of mine.

Western Field Ornithologists Conference: In July, I said goodbye to my co-workers and the woods of Pennsylvania and flew across the country to Denver, Colorado, where I was picked up by one of the members of the board of Western Field Ornithologists (WFO). There started my week-long, high-energy stay in the alpine zone of Colorado, where I proceeded to not only see hordes of birds (including two lifers, Virginia’s Warbler and Brown-capped Rosy-finch) as well as meet a variety of people of all ages, who had converged at the WFO annual conference thanks to their passion for birds. During this conference, I got to hang out with a squadron of young birders from California and meet people like David Tonnessen, a native Coloradan guide, Nathan Pieplow, one of North America’s leading experts on bird sound, Ted Floyd, the editor of Birding magazine, Chris Wood, one of the founders of eBird, and Jesse Barry, one of the lead developers for the Merlin app. It was a whirlwind week, during which I bushwhacked through alpine tundra in search of White-tailed Ptarmigan and Dusky Grouse (only the latter of which we saw), scoped distant prairie potholes for shorebirds, and trekked through spruce-fir forest in the dark of night in an attempt for Boreal Owl. I’ll be sure to attend more of these conferences, whenever I am able to!

Starting the UMaine Birding Club: Last semester, several people told me that if the University of Maine had a Birding Club, they would join. This year, after a few MORE people told me that, I just decided to buckle down and start one. Our first meeting, which took place on September 14th, was a raging success, with more than thirty people filling the classroom I’d reserved to hear me give my elevator pitch for the club. After a ten-minute talk, we headed out across campus in search of fall migrants, which we found in the form of a Ruby-throated Hummingbird and several Cape May Warblers. The rest is history. I put on twelve meetings this year, and led twelve outings as well. I made sure that our meetings were diverse, with some days featuring guest lectures about bird jobs or indoor bird scavenger hunts and others pitting club members against each other in Bird Jeopardy. My personal favorite was a thirty-minute talk I gave on everything wrong with the state birds, and we finished out the year last Thursday with a movie night featuring The Big Year. Our outings, highlighted by one trip to Sebasticook Lake and another to the coast, tallied ninety total species, including Sandhill Cranes and an American Goshawk, which both became “Bird of the Day” on their respective trips. Overall, starting a Birding Club was one of the most meaningful things I’ve ever done and I can’t wait to jump back into it next fall—after I’ve returned from studying abroad in Costa Rica!

Quizzing the UMaine Birding Club on bird vocalizations!

So that’s a wrap, people. Braden and I want to thank you for tuning in and sharing your enthusiasm with us, and we hope that 2024 brings you a rewarding year of seeing, learning about, and protecting the animals we all love.

Lost in Owls

Owls consistently rank among the favorite bird groups of birders, and Braden and I are no exceptions. We’ve had a pretty good year for owls in 2023. It got off to a roaring start with wonderful encounters with Long-eared Owls, Northern Pygmy-Owls, and Saw-whet Owls the first days of the year, and continued with the now-famous Northern Hawk-Owl in Wise River. Unfortunately, after that, our owl experiences stalled. We failed to see both Great Gray Owls and Snowy Owls last winter, nor even a Barred Owl. We also missed both Western and Eastern Screech Owls, though did pick up Burrowing Owls near Great Falls. When Braden got home from college a few days ago, however, we decided we would make one last effort to see perhaps our biggest miss of the year: Short-eared Owl.

Short-eared Owls are one of our favorite Montana birds—but so far in 2023, they had totally skunked us!

We had looked for Short-eareds multiple times in 2023, both at Ninepipe National Wildlife Refuge, and on our forays into eastern Montana. In fact, I had never gone to eastern Montana without seeing one of these spectacular creatures, but this year? Zip. Ditto at Ninepipe, where we can almost always count on at least one SEOW during the year. What was going on? Joni Mitchell’s prophetic lines haunted me:

“I’ve looked at owls from both sides now

From up and down, and still somehow

It’s owl illusions I recall

I guess I don’t know owls at all.”

Why does Joni always have to be so darned depressing? Nonetheless, when our neighbor Tim told me he’d been encountering gobs of Short-eared Owls while out hunting in the Mission Valley, Braden and I were determined to give SEOWs one last try. We parked at Tim’s spot amidst a winter wonderland of frosted fields created by low fog and freezing temperatures that have been blanketing the area for the past couple of weeks. A sign invited pedestrians into the property so unlike our other searches for SEOWs, which relied on driving rural roads for miles and miles, we zipped up our jackets, slung our optics over our shoulders, and followed a frozen dirt path out into a field.

Almost immediately, rodents (voles?) scurried in front of us while Northern Harriers circled the perimeter.

“There have got to be owls here,” I said. “Look at all this prey!”

Well, not so fast. We kept walking, expecting an owl to fly up at any moment, but no dice. We heard Canada Geese, saw magpies and a hawk or two, but no owl. As the road curved left, I decided to crunch my way over to a big group of cattails. As I paused to study it, I suddenly heard Braden shout, and spun around to see a Short-eared Owl quickly flying away!

More often than not, we observe the rear end of a SEOW, and this one was no exception!

For those who haven’t seen these creatures, they truly are marvels of engineering. While perched, they appear only medium-sized. Once they take off, they unfurl impossibly long, flexible wings that leave an observer breathless. Like Northern Harriers, which also hunt low over fields and marshes, listening for prey, Short-eared Owls hunt by both sight and sound, moving low and slow, their long wings giving them plenty of lift with minimal flapping. We watched, elated as this one flew in a lazy arc away from us—but it was so much fun to be out alone in the middle of this giant field that we decided to keep walking.

When a fence blocked our way, we turned right and followed an embankment along an irrigation ditch. Braden heard Marsh Wrens, and then we encountered another fence. I pride myself on having good directional sense, so I said, “Let’s head this way back toward the road.”

One advantage to the frozen ground is we could walk across normally wet places without plunging into cold water. We walked in parallel, forty or fifty feet apart, and at one point I saw Braden pause to study another group of cattails. He motioned me over, and I was stunned to see a white face with beady eyes pop out to look at me. A weasel! The mammal was in full winter “plumage,” and it was only the second one we’d ever seen in Montana, so it quickly grabbed “Bird of the Day” honors!

This Short-tailed Weasel (we think) grabbed Bird of the Day honors as we searched for Short-eared Owls.

But our owling, it turns out, had just begun. As we headed back toward our car, Short-eared Owls started popping up like jack-in-the-boxes! We tried to spot them on the ground so we could steer around them, but they were so well hidden in the grass and cattails that we never saw one until it took flight. Then we just stood in awe, watching it navigate on their incredible wings until they settled a couple of hundred meters away. One owl even had a little tête-à-tête with a Northern Harrier, exchanging some words neither Braden nor I could make out.

I had the ISO of my camera cranked too high, so my owl shots are all grainy, but this photo still captures the magnificence of SEOWs.

One thing we wondered was why the birds weren’t actively hunting. Prey scurried everywhere, and the cold air shouldn’t have been a problem for such masterful fliers. In fact, Braden and I have seen them active in all seasons and at all times of day, though they do tend to be crepuscular—most active at dawn and dusk—especially in winter. Beyond this, I am guessing that the birds were so stuffed with voles that they could afford to chill out—literally. (But see my earlier comments on my understanding of owls re: Joni Mitchell.)

After observing at least half a dozen of these glorious creatures, we finally made it back to the road. Alarmingly, our minivan had disappeared!

“Geez, where is it?” I asked. “Did someone tow it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Wait a minute,” I said. “This road is paved. Didn’t we park on a dirt road?”

“Oh, yeah,” Braden confirmed.

So much for my infallible sense of direction! As we wandered across fields, we had veered at least 90-degrees off course and ended up in a totally different place than we’d intended. Fortunately, Braden was able to use our eBird track to quickly figure out where our car was actually located. After a short hike down the paved road, and a turn right, we reunited with our faithful birding-mobile.

Seeing one of our favorite birds was a great way to wrap up our Montana birding adventures for the year and made us feel good knowing that great habitat and plenty of food still abounded for this wonderful species. The weasel (probably a Short-tailed Weasel) was also a great bonus. The Short-eared Owl pushed my Montana Year Bird list to 252 species, my second highest total ever. That number would tick over to 253 species an hour later when Braden and I saw a Northern Shrike up near Polson. Braden’s 2023 Montana total reached 198—pretty darned good considering he spent only five or six weeks in the state. None of us can predict the future, but if we all keep getting out there, we can guarantee that 2024 will bring plenty more birding adventures. What are we all waiting for?

Braden and I hope that 2024 brings you owls—and lots of other cool birds!

Birding Japan? A Book, Blogs—and Extra Tips—to Help You Prepare!

Since they were published last spring, our Japan birding posts have consistently received the most views on our “blogging backlist”—and by a wide margin. This is surprising given that Japan is not known as one of the world’s top birding hotspots. We suspect that our blogs’ popularity reflects the surging popularity of Japan as a travel destination—and that those travelers happen to include a lot of birders!

That said, many people find the idea of traveling to Japan intimidating. The language barrier, the complex public transportation system—even Japanese toilets—have led to what I call Fear of Japan among many prospective travelers. However, it was this very intimidation factor that compelled me (Sneed) to write my newest book, First-Time Japan: A Step-by-Step Guide for the Independent Traveler. For birders and non-birders alike, this entertaining volume tells you all you need to know to plan and negotiate your first trip to one of the world’s great travel destinations. Best of all, you can buy it NOW. In fact, why not grab a dozen copies and give them to all of your friends for the holidays? (“Gee, Sneed, that’s an AWESOME idea!”)

As proud as we are of the book, I confess that it is not aimed specifically at birders, so for today’s blog I decided to provide additional advice specifically for you. So without further ado, here are some bonus birding tips for your upcoming Japan adventure.

Tip 1: Take Full Advantage of eBird.

eBird is an incredibly valuable tool for any trip, including Japan. If you do not have an account, sign up now at eBird.org. eBird will help you in at least three dramatic ways:

Trip Planning: If you want to time your trip to coincide with the greatest possible number of bird species, simply look up a location in Japan, and study the bar charts for that place. This will tell you when migratory birds arrive and depart. In general, April and May are great birding months for the Tokyo and Kyoto areas— but you have to balance whether you want to hit sakura, or flowering cherry, trees, too. Our three-week trip lasted from the end of March into early April and we managed to time the sakura perfectly while seeing a good number of birds.

Finding Birding Locations: eBird will also identify birding hotspots wherever you are traveling in Japan. In Tokyo, for instance, eBird alerted me to Hamarikyu Gardens, Kasai Rinkai Park, and Shinkjuku Gyoen National Garden—three of my favorite Japan birding experiences.

Learning Japan’s Birds: I credit eBird quizzes with almost single-handedly preparing me to ID birds on my Japan trip. If you haven’t taken an eBird quiz, simply hit the Explore button and scroll down to the “Photo + Sound Quiz” button. These quizzes not only allow you to specify a location, but the time of year, too, so once you have your itinerary laid out you can just keep drilling yourself until you feel confident. In fact, I took so many quizzes that I was able to ID 95% of the birds I saw almost immediately!

eBird offers a wealth of tools to prepare you for your Japan adventure—including bird quizzes that you customize to where you want to go, and when. (Image copyright Cornell Lab.)

Tip 2: Jump on Your Jet Lag.

When you arrive in Japan, chances are you’re going to wake up crazy early (as in the middle of the night)—so whenever possible, put that time to good use. On at least half of my days in Japan, I was out the door at the crack of dawn birding whatever location I happened to be in. Sure, you’ll be tired—but no more tired than if you lay in your bed for six hours hoping to fall back to sleep! Getting out early will also help your internal clock adjust to Japan time.

Taking advantage of my jet lag early wake-ups helped me discover a treasure trove of Japan birds—including my Lifer Dusky Thrushes near Tokyo’s Imperial Palace!

Tip 3: Don’t Confine Yourself to Birding Hotspots.

Although eBird does show a fair number of birding hotspots, it misses a lot of great locations—probably because there aren’t yet enough birders in Japan to cover them all. The solution? Study a map of where you are and look for any river or other green space and check it out. This paid off for me big time, especially during our quick stop in Nagano, where I nabbed my Lifer Bull-headed Shrike and many other cool birds along the Susobana River.

Exploring beyond established eBird hotspots can unearth awesome birding locations—including the Susobana River in Nagano.

Tip 4: Make Sure You Have the Best Walking Shoes for Your Feet.

Okay, this sounds obvious, but you will be walking a LOT in Japan. My daughter and I covered six to ten miles a day, every day. Before the trip I bought three different pairs of new shoes/boots and field tested them. The ones that worked best? The cheapest pair of Skechers! You won’t be sorry you put in the extra effort to make sure your shoes are comfortable and sturdy.

Solid walking shoes let you take advantage of most birding opportunities, including Kanazawa’s Kenmin Seaside Park.

Tip 5: Get a Handle on Japan Transportation.

Using public transportation is one of the real joys of visiting Japan—but fills first-timers with trepidation. My book First-Time Japan can help you feel a lot more comfortable with this. Unfortunately, the Japan Rail Pass has gotten a lot more expensive lately, but moving around cities is both convenient and inexpensive. I especially recommend buying the 24-, 48-, or 72-hour “Welcome! Tokyo!” subway pass when in Tokyo and using IC cards (rechargeable credit cards) for almost all other local transportation. Taxis are also very reasonable in Japan, so if a subway or other train won’t get you there, a taxi probably can.

Not all of Japan’s public transportation is as cute as the Enoshima Electric Railway, but once you get the hang of it, trains are a great way to reach most urban birding destinations.

Tip 6: Reread our Previous Japan Birding Blogs.

Kyoto, for instance. Need we say more?

The bottom line: Japan is not Colombia or Australia, but you will still see great birds there. While doing so, you will enjoy one of the most pleasant, fascinating countries imaginable. Just be sure to share your experiences with us when you get back!

Avian Reveal: Our Five Picks for New Bird Names

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 18th-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 19th-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.