Tag Archives: Loons

Wings Across the Big Sky 2026 (FSB Festival Recap)

It’s been a furious month for the Collard Clan. Last week, Braden wrapped up two solid weeks of escorting birding friends around western and central Montana. Before that, we did a Birdathon fundraiser with our good friends Susan and Eli to raise money for Five Valleys Audubon. Then, Friday, Braden and I took off to lead trips at Wings Across the Big Sky 2026.

One special thing about WABS is that it moves to different locations in Montana every year, and this year Kalispell played host. Our very first WABS actually was in Kalispell eight years ago, when we got our lifer Harlequin Ducks in Glacier National Park. Since then, I’ve keynoted the festival and, most recently, Braden and I both attended the event in Helena two years ago. This year, one of the festival’s organizers, Darcy Thomas, asked if we would lead field trips to Tally Lake and the CSKT Bison Range. We, of course, said yes and decided to use the drive up on Friday for a bit ‘o exploration.

We began Friday by hitting one of our favorite refuges, Ninepipe National Wildlife Refuge. We didn’t see as many birds as we expected, but did find the most photogenic Short-eared Owl in the history of the universe!

**Could a Short-eared Owl strike a better pose? Not likely!**

We followed that up by checking out a nearby road that supposedly had Bobolinks. Before finding them, however, we stopped at a delightful little forest spot with both Red-eyed and (Western) Warbling Vireos. It’s rare to get a really good look at the former, so we stood oohing and ahing when one came out onto a branch for a full minute of posing. Just down the road, we were treated to at least five Bobolinks and later found more near the town of Creston—along with the most adorable family of baby skunks ever!

**Like Short-eared Owls, Bobolinks require a mandatory stop for photos—and just to appreciate these beautiful, lively songbirds.**

Braden and I felt especially excited to lead the trip to Tally Lake on Saturday because it was a place we had never been. I couldn’t have done the place justice without Braden, because it was a heavy “ear birding” location, full of warblers, vireos, sparrows, and other secretive songbirds. Still, most of the species put in at least one appearance and our friendly birding group ate it up. Braden helped everyone “get on” the various songs and calls, too, so it was a real learning experience.

**We had plenty of time after birding Tally Lake, so our group decided to head out to Kalispell’s West Valley Ponds for some waterfowl fun.**

Top Tally Lake honors went to Rufous Hummingbirds, who struck exceptional poses out in the open with the sun glinting off of their stunning orange-brown feathers. I didn’t realize how fierce these guys look until I studied my photos later. Other crowd favorites included a Common Loon, Willow Flycatcher, and for me especially, a Fox Sparrow.

**Rufous Hummingbirds grabbed top honors at Tally Lake for best bird views. I didn’t realize how fierce these birds can look till I took this photo!**

Exhausted from two straight mornings of rising at 3:30 a.m., Braden and I skipped Saturday evening’s workshops to spend with our friends Erica and Larry Wirtala, who hosted us and are also members of Flathead Audubon—the hosts of this year’s festival. We needed the break since Sunday promised another marathon day!

Our trip to the CSKT Bison Range began with a two-hour drive south from Kalispell, during which our caravan enjoyed stunning scenery along Flathead Lake and in the Mission Valley—and I narrowly missed colliding with a deer. Braden and I really didn’t know what to expect bird-wise at the Bison Range because it had been years since we’d birded it, but we’re so glad we got to lead this trip!

We began our exploration by taking the group to the riparian area just below the visitor’s center. There, we were treated to our best Willow Flycatcher experience ever. These plain-looking “empids” seemed to vocalize from every perch with their quick FITZ-pew songs. The group also got a welcome look at Pileated Woodpeckers and raucous Yellow-headed Blackbirds, too—but it was up on the long, two-hour driving loop that we got our biggest surprises.

**At the CSKT Bison Range, Willow Flycatchers especially put on an audio showcase with their almost nonstop FITZ-pew songs!**

I remembered the loop as mostly very dry grasslands topped by conifer forests, so imagine our delight to discover an excellent riparian zone early on in the drive. Here, we got our group onto Bullock’s Orioles, Lazuli Buntings, and even a Lewis’s Woodpecker. At one point a Golden Eagle gave us an outstanding look while flying right over the car.

Higher up we caught a glimpse of a mama black bear and cub on a ridge before stopping at the #5 marker. Surprises continued as we scooped up another Pileated, a juvie Hairy Woodpecker, Cassin’s Finches, and a Common Nighthawk that was calling while perched in a tree—something we’d never experienced.

**Is there anything more adorable than a juvenile Hairy Woodpecker? Maybe a baby bison? Keep reading to compare.**

We ate lunch at the summit overlooking the spectacular Mission Valley. Our group got excellent looks at Lewis’s Woodpeckers, Red Crossbills, and Pine Siskins, but traffic had begun to build, so we began making our way down the far side of the mountain. All this time, we asked ourselves, “Where are the bison?” Supposedly hundreds of the animals occupied the reserve, but we’d only seen three or four far down below us.

Finally, on the last stretch of road at the end of the road, we encountered a dozen or so adult bison with their bright tan calves. We, of course, pulled over to admire these remarkable critters—even if they were mammals.

**So what do you think? Woodpecker fledgling or bison? Don’t let your mammalian bias influence you!**

As before, Braden and I felt grateful we got to participate in Wings Across the Big Sky, and we highly recommend it to those of you who have always longed to bird in Montana. The trips are always fantastic, and are punctuated by informative workshops and keynotes. This year’s keynote was given Steve Hoffman, founder of HawkWatch International, who opened our eyes to the amazing raptor migrations and counting efforts taking place in the West. (We also felt honored to have Steve on our Tally Lake trip.) Next year’s festival will be in Billings and promises to be a good one. Not only does the Billings area offer outstanding grassland and sagebrush birding, but excellent riparian zones as well. I don’t know about you, but I am already trying to figure out how to attend!

Our Tally Lake eBird list: https://ebird.org/checklist/S356850809

Our Bison Range eBird list: https://ebird.org/checklist/S357543551

**Our Bison Range crew hopes you will be at next year’s Wings Across Big Sky fest in Billings!**

In Search of the Marbled Murrelet (Birding Victoria, Part II)

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After three nights in Victoria (see last week’s post “Birding Victoria, BC”), Amy and I headed up the Vancouver Island coast toward a spot where we had spent our first nights together as married folk—a lovely establishment called the Point No Point Resort. On the way up, I bamboozled Amy into stopping at one of the most well-known birding hotspots in the area: Whiffin Spit Park. As its rather humorous name implies, the park is a narrow spit of land stretching about a kilometer across the mouth of the bay where the town of Sooke is located, and it has recorded an impressive list of birds.

**Whiffin Spit is perhaps the most well-known place to observe ocean and shore birds between Victoria and Port Renfrew. Alas, the many free-roaming pet dogs makes it less than ideal for shorbs.**

As Amy walked ahead, I schlepped my scope, zooming in on anything promising. Over the next hour, I found Red-breasted Mergansers, more Harlequin Ducks (Yay!), Surf Scoters, Common Loons, and most exciting, a pair of Pacific Loons. Along the path, I also got excellent looks at Black Oystercatchers and Black Turnstones. Alas, the numerous unleashed dogs did not create a bird-friendly environment, and chased off the birds several times. (Our dog, Lola, by the way, informed me that she would never engage in such unruly behavior—cough, cough.)

The longer we stayed on Vancouver Island, the more Pacific Loons I got to see. I have learned to identify these handsome birds by their silvery heads and neck postures, which remind me of cobras ready to strike. Up close, the dark “chin strap” is also diagnostic.

Despite these good birds, I had by now firmly set my mind on seeing alcids, a group of sea birds affectionately dubbed the penguins of the northern hemisphere. These birds include murres, guillemots, Razorbills, Dovekies, and puffins, but the ones I most wanted to see were murrelets. Two kinds frequented the area: Ancient and Marbled. My new birder friend John (see this recent post) had told me that Ancient Murrelets tended to fly around in groups while Marbled Murrelets were most often observed as loners floating on the surface. Either species would be a lifer for me, and I would have been ecstatic to find one. Alas, the task was proving much more difficult than I had hoped. I totally struck out in Victoria, and now I “whiffed” at Whiffin Spit, too.

Perhaps my best photo ever of an adult Common Merganser, hanging out on the bay side of Whiffin Spit with an equally stunning female.

The Point No Point Resort helped ease my disappointment. The cabins and rooms are all cleverly designed for privacy and each looks out over the spectacular Strait of Juan de Fuca (part of the Salish Sea). The sun was setting by the time we checked in—just time for me to set up my spotting scope and find a raft of about forty Surf Scoters floating below us. They would become regular companions of our stay. I also noted a few cormorants and other birds, but alas, no alcids.

**Our room at the Point No Point not only offered a mesmerizing view of the Olympic Peninsula across the water, but a chance to scope for more seabirds.**

Undaunted, I rose the next morning to hit two nearby spots that had been recommended as great seabird locations: Otter Point and Muir Creek. The birding gods seemed stubbornly pitted against me. I saw a few more loons, including my first Red-throated Loon, along with my first Pacific Wren and a dozen or so species I’d been seeing for the past few days, but nothing that really got my heart racing.

**At Muir Creek, I was pleased to get an actual look at a Pacific Wren. Amy and I heard them several other times, but the birds like their privacy!**

This pattern repeated itself for the next couple of days as Amy and I explored several more places between Sooke and Port Renfrew. Honestly, the birds that most excited me were Short-billed Gulls (formerly Mew Gulls)—birds that I had never seen in such numbers, and had only recently become skilled at identifying myself.

Gulls are notoriously difficult to identify—something I’ll tackle in an upcoming post—but the Short-billed Gull stands out for its smaller size, yellow legs, and overall “cuteness,” as Braden puts it. In breeding, its bill lacks any kind of marking, though as you can see in this photo, adults sport a faint ring at other times of the year.

Before we knew it, we arrived back at the Point No Point for our last luxurious evening of watching the sea and enjoying the view of the Olympic Peninsula across the water. As we prepared to soak in our private hot tub, though, I picked up my cool new binoculars (see our last post) for one final look at the ocean below us. In the rapidly fading light, I spotted our loyal raft of Surf Scoters, along with gulls and cormorants. Then, I noted a tiny speck in the breaking waves close to shore, and quickly focused in on it. I guessed it was a piece of kelp or driftwood, but then, through the lenses, the unlikely shape of a bird emerged!

My heart accelerating, I frantically set up the scope which lay at my feet and zoomed in on the shape. “No friggin’ way!” I exclaimed. Honestly, I didn’t know exactly what I was looking it, but I felt sure I hadn’t seen it before. I was also sure I needed some photos, no matter how crummy, so I switched out my scope for my camera on the tripod, and captured a few quick images through our windows before, to my disappointment, the bird drifted out of view behind some trees.

By this time, after a quick consult with my Sibley app, I felt positive that the tiny bird had indeed been a murrelet, but which kind? Studying my horrible photos and comparing them to Sibley, I noted the white patches on the shoulders and near the tail. That ruled out Ancient Murrelet. I also checked the illustrations for all the other alcids that might be in the area. Only one matched my photos: Marbled Murrelet! Even better, ten minutes later the bird reappeared below our window. By now, the light had grown truly dim, but I took my tripod and camera out onto the deck and managed some slightly better shots.

My fellow birders can imagine how that one bird pretty much made the entire trip for me. Everything else was just lovely, too, but a Marbled Murrelet? That put the icing on the cake, or for me, the chocolate chips in the cookie. It also sent my imagination racing, seeing that tiny bird deftly negotiate the waves crashing into shore. It was just so comfortable in an environment that would have snuffed me out in a matter of minutes.

Marbled Murrelets defy the imagination for another reason. Unlike other alcids, they nest not in burrows or on cliffs, but in trees! In fact, the nesting location of this bird remained a great ornithological mystery for more than a century as biologists looked everywhere (but not in the tops of trees, evidently) for a Marbled Murrelet nest. “Finally,” recounts Cornell Lab’s Birds of the World, “in 1961 and 1974, the first verified and published nests were reported in Asia and North America, respectively.”

Amazing.

Unfortunately, the birds prefer old-growth coastal forest, forests that have experienced extreme logging pressures over the past century. The birds have also been impacted by fishing gear, forest fires, and other hazards. As a result, the bird is listed as endangered or threatened throughout its North American range. That made it all the more remarkable that one had deigned to show up right below our picture window—almost as if following some kind of cosmic movie script. I felt very fortunate.

**Yay! More Harlequin Ducks! During our last session at Clover Point, these stunning birds really put on a show, chasing each other around and posing for one visiting birder.**

The next day, Amy and I returned to Victoria and another round of birding at Clover Point—my best session there yet. Pacific Loons, Buffleheads, Harlequin Ducks, and Surf Scoters seemed to be everywhere, and I was thrilled to find a pair of immaculately-feathered Long-tailed Ducks far out on the water. Though we would not head home until the following day, it was a great way to wrap up a trip that proved delightfully unexpected in so many ways. Huge gratitude goes to my wife and partner, Amy, for giving me such a wonderful surprise. And now, it was time for us to go celebrate with stiff umbrella drinks and a plate full of chicken enchiladas.

Bird of the Day honors for our last day in Victoria went to these Long-tailed Ducks. Adult male LTDUs (left) are especially striking in full plumage, and I at first assumed that the one on the right was a female. The rich brown back and bold, well-defined white face patch, however, suggests a first-year male.

Birding Race Point: Cape Cod’s Pelagic Playground

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The week before Thanksgiving, my family had the opportunity to visit a place that featured prominently in my childhood—Cape Cod, Massachusetts. We headed to Boston so that I could accept a big award for my picture book, Border Crossings, but the trip provided many piggybacking opportunities. These included a chance to look at colleges for Braden’s sister, Tessa, and to meet up with Braden for Thanksgiving. After Amy, Tessa, and I spent a few days in Boston, in fact, Braden drove down from the University of Maine and whisked us off to the Cape.

I spent parts of many summers in Woods Hole on the Cape. My father did his post-doc at WHOI—the Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution. My step-father spent dozens of summers in Woods Hole doing research and teaching classes at the MBL—the Marine Biological Laboratories. I have many fond (and some not-so-fond) memories of those summers, but had not been back for (gasp) 45 years! I looked forward to revisiting old haunts and showing my family some of the places that had shaped my childhood. Naturally, Braden and I also considered the birding possibilities.

When Braden first mentioned going to Race Point near Provincetown, I hesitated. I recalled driving up there as a ten-year-old and didn’t relish spending an extra four hours of our vacation in a car. When Braden started telling me what we might find there, however, I quickly changed my mind.

Race Point, it turns out, is one of the nation’s premiere places for spotting seabirds from land. A map reveals an obvious reason: Cape Cod juts miles out into the Atlantic Ocean, and the tip—Race Point itself—is surrounded on three sides by the sea. This means that birders have an opportunity to see both regular beach-type birds and many species that only rarely show up near land. Braden and I especially hoped to see jaegers, “tube noses” such as shearwaters, and any interesting gulls or ducks that happened to be around.

After a delicious breakfast at Liz’s Café in Provincetown, Braden and I left Amy and Tessa to explore while we headed off to the parking lot near Race Point lighthouse. As soon as we approached the beach, we spotted Northern Gannets soaring above wild, wind-raked seas. I’d only ever gotten a brief look at a NOGA before, when Braden and I had visited Acadia National Park three years before, so right away the drive up to Provincetown redeemed itself!

However, the excitement was just beginning.

**One of perhaps 150 Northern Gannets we saw at Race Point. Like Blue-footed Boobies, these birds torpedo straight down into schools of fish.**

As wind and sand pelted us, groups of White-winged and Black Scoters, Common Eiders, and Long-tailed Ducks skimmed the waves just offshore. Some occasionally landed, but most seemed hell-bent for destinations only they knew about. All were birds I had scant experience with, so I soaked up every sighting.

**This was only my second time seeing Common Eiders, and I was uber impressed by the coloration of both females and males.**

“There’s a Red-throated Loon!” Braden said, pointing to a bird with an exceedingly pale, long neck reaching up from the surface. It wouldn’t be long before we saw several Common Loons, differentiated by blockier heads, chunkier bills, and more black on their faces.

**Only my second Red-throated Loon ever. Note the smooth, rounded head and white “winter” face.**

At the top of our To Find list were Great Shearwaters, a potential Lifer for both of us. These birds belong to the “tube noses,” the same group of birds that includes albatrosses, fulmars, and storm-petrels. These birds are truly seafarers, rarely approaching shore. Only a few weeks ago, I had caught a glimpse of Sooty Shearwaters while visiting California’s Point Reyes National Park with my friend Scott. Great Shearwaters had been sighted regularly at Race Point for the past couple of weeks, but alas, we arrived too late to see them today.

**Braden fruitlessly searching the seas for Great Shearwaters and jaegers.**

We still had plenty of thrilling birds to look at, however. As we trudged the mile and a half through the soft sand toward the very tip of the Cape, flocks of Dunlin and Sanderlings in their winter plumages worked the drifts of foam left on the beach by each encroaching wave. We even saw a group of six Horned Larks, birds we were used to seeing on the backroads of Montana—not here at the end of the world.

**It had been years since I’d gotten to hang with Dunlins, and it was a real treat.**

Not to be outdone, gulls also put on a show. This was the first time I’d ever gotten to see Great Black-backed Gulls in a natural setting. They are the world’s largest gulls, and I gotta say they looked like they belonged in this rugged, challenging environment.

“Look!” Braden suddenly shouted. “Iceland Gull!” Two of them, in fact. These gulls had until recently been split into Iceland and Thayer’s Gull, and Braden and I had seen the latter at the Helena landfill in Montana. This look was much more memorable as both a juvenile and adult landed near us. Both were gorgeous birds with subtle markings, and they quickly jumped into contention for Bird of the Day honors. Not long after seeing the Iceland Gulls, Braden also spotted a Black-legged Kittiwake. I was grateful he’d gained experience with all of these birds while on the East Coast, because I certainly would have missed a lot of them.

**I don’t even want to know what this Great Black-backed Gull is eating, as our two Iceland Gulls look on.**

I picked up two Lifers for the day. One was Razorbill, a kind of black-and-white alcid I had dreamed about seeing for years (see our post “All About Alcids”). During our hike to the lighthouse and back, we saw about eighty of these birds in groups, flying low or bobbing up and down in the jagged waves. My second Lifer was a pair of Purple Sandpipers that landed in front of us and shouldn’t have been anywhere near a wide sandy beach. Like its closely-related West Coast cousin the Rock Sandpiper, these are rocky shore birds.

**I was especially thrilled to see my Lifer Razorbills, but it’s a tossup whether these or the Iceland Gulls grabbed Bird of the Day honors.**

“They must be migrating,” I said, and Braden agreed, though we were well within their wintering latitudes.

As we trudged back toward the car, Braden spotted a fin jutting out of the water. At first we thought it might be the dorsal fin of a shark or orca, but after watching it for a few minutes, we concluded that we were looking at the tail flukes of a larger whale. I’d seen quite a few humpback whales before, and these didn’t look anything like it. “I think it’s a Right Whale,” I said. Later, we learned that Right Whales had been regularly spotted in the area. It was one more unforgettable discovery for a memorable day.

Race Point eBird Checklist: https://ebird.org/checklist/S203601766

Adventures in Ekalaka: Our 2024 Eastern Montana Odyssey Continues

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We are pleased to present our sixth installment of our 2024 Eastern Montana Odyssey. Here, we leave the “interstate less traveled” and push into the brand new birding territory of southeastern Montana. We experience delightful new towns and vistas, and a wealth of surprising birds. We also keep knocking off new counties, drawing closer to completing our Montana eBird map. If you are enjoying these episodes, please share them with your birding friends and consider supporting our efforts by buying a *NEW* copy or two of one of Sneed’s books on the right.

Leaving Glendive, Braden and I had our work cut out for us. Not only would we be birding the southeast corner of the state for the very first time, this might be our only chance to nail down the last six Montana counties we needed to complete our eBird birding map! We had started the trip needing seven counties, and picked up one a few days before (see our post “Big Surprise on the Way to Plentywood”). Today, we planned to conquer Prairie, Wibaux, Fallon, and Carter Counties—and it would take some effort.

**Fallon Bridge allowed us to bird the first of six Montana counties we planned to pick up in the next 48 hours.**

First up? Prairie County which, unfortunately, didn’t sit anywhere on our way to or from someplace else we wanted to go. Before heading down to the southeast corner of Montana, therefore, we zoomed about twenty miles west down Interstate 94. Entering Prairie County, we spotted Western Meadowlark, Mourning Dove, and Cliff Swallow along the highway and we could have technically just turned around at that point. Braden and I decided, however, that to make our county map more meaningful we had to find at least ten, count ‘em, TEN species in each of our last seven counties. In Prairie County, we accomplished this with a stop at Fallon Bridge. Apparently, this also is a place to see Least Terns (see our last post), but we didn’t know that. Instead, we just got out and spent a few minutes enjoying what was there, including American White Pelican, more than fifty Cliff Swallows, a Lark Sparrow, and our County Bird of Prairie County, Brown Thrasher.

We raced back east on the interstate, past Glendive, to our main Wibaux County destination, the Wibaux Fish Pond. Here, we saw a satisfying 17 species including our County Bird of Wibaux County, Orchard Oriole. By this time our stomachs were complaining loudly about how we prioritized birding over eating. Fortunately, Wibaux is home to a wonderful little diner, the Palace Café. We stuffed ourselves on a scrumptious fat-and-protein-filled breakfast and emerged prepared to continue our vigorous Montana counties campaign.

**A good small-town diner is one of a birder’s greatest pleasures. Don’t miss the Palace Hotel & Cafe in Wibaux!**

Next stop: Lake Baker in the town of Baker, Fallon County. We were both somewhat surprised to find a giant lake in the middle of the town. True, it was pretty developed, but we spotted nice surprises here including Eared Grebes, Western Grebes, and the star of our Fallon County lists, a Common Loon!

**This Common Loon was a major surprise at Lake Baker.**

From Baker, it was on to Carter County, and here we settled into some more serious birding with a hike through the spectacular Medicine Rocks State Park. The fantastic, hoodoo-style rocks at Medicine Rocks were sculpted by wind and rain from soft inland sea sandstone. Not surprisingly, when humans came along the rocks assumed important sacred and cultural significance for native peoples and a fair share of interest from early white settlers.

**Medicine Rocks State Park is plenty dramatic—especially with Red-headed Woodpeckers lurking nearby.**

It was at Medicine Rocks that we spotted one of the birds we had most wanted to see on the entire trip. After walking a mile or so through the rocks, we connected with the pine tree-lined dirt road back to our car. As we walked, we caught a glimpse of a medium-sized bird that flashed white as it was flying away. “Red-headed Woodpecker!” Braden shouted. We didn’t get great looks, but never fear. This would not be the last RHWO we would see.

**This fuzzy flight photo shows the dramatic color contrasts Red-headed Woodpeckers present, making them easy to identify from a distance.**

From Medicine Rocks, we made our way to our camping destination for the night, Ekalaka Park Campground. It was barely noon as we turned off on the dirt road into the higher hills south of Ekalaka, and we took our time, stopping to look at whatever cool birds we happened to encounter. Sure enough, we glimpsed two more RHWOs as they fled up and over a little hill. “Let’s follow them,” I said, steering up a little two-track up along a fence line. As we crested the rise, one of the woodpeckers was sitting on a fence post. It fled as I got out to try to photograph it, but meanwhile, Braden had sighted a surprise Montana life bird for us—Eastern Bluebird! Though almost identical to their Western counterparts, Easterns are easily distinguished by their red throats compared to the blue throats of WEBLs.

**The red throat of this Eastern Bluebird easily distinguishes it from its Western Bluebird counterpart. Montana Lifer!**

We continued to pick up great birds along the road: Yellow-breasted Chat, Lark Sparrow, Field Sparrows, and more Red-headed Woodpeckers. My favorite was our first ever really good look at a Plumbeous Vireo. We spent several minutes watching this handsome, “spectacled” bird. Alas, my camera was back in the car so we failed to get a photo of it. Some photos you just have to store in your brain!

**Although abundant, the Red-headed Woodpeckers in Ekalaka were on the shy side. I never managed to get closer than fifty yards or so to one.**

We spent a delightful evening in Ekalaka Park Campground—the only campers there. The campground sits in a little bowl surrounded by dramatic cliffs and an older burned forest, making it the perfect habitat for Red-headed Woodpeckers. Sitting at our picnic table, we could hear and see woodpeckers all around us. Every once in a while, one would fly right through our camp. I made bean and cheese tacos and we settled in for our best camping experience of the trip.

**Ekalaka Park Campground offered perhaps our best-ever experience with Red-eyed Vireos, which serenaded us the whole time we were there.**

The woodpeckers weren’t the only show offs in camp. That evening, Common Poorwills lulled us to sleep. We also had some of our best experiences ever with Red-eyed Vireos. In fact, when I woke the next morning, it was to a REVI’s delightful song. After working my way out of my sleeping bag, I climbed a nearby hill into the burned forest and picked a log to perch on. The air was cool and fresh, and woodpeckers flew from one snag to another. Sitting there, I felt very grateful for life, and that Braden and I could share the wonders of Montana birdlife together.

**Taco Time in Ekalaka Park Campground.**

Meditating with Loons: Spontaneous Birding Spectacular, Part II

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Braden and I write FatherSonBirding in the hopes of sharing the wonders of birds and birding, and the urgency to protect them. We do not accept advertising or donations, but if you’d like to support our work, please consider buying *NEW* copies of some of Sneed’s books—First-Time Japan: A Step-by-Step Guide for the Independent Traveler, for instance, or the best kids’ woodpecker book ever, Woodpeckers: Drilling Holes & Bagging Bugs. Here, we are pleased to continue last week’s “spontaneous” narrative. For Part I, see our last post. Enjoy!

After giving my keynote talk to the Montana Library Association (and yes, it went well, thank you!), I changed out of my good clothes, checked out of my room and hit the road—but not too far. It was early afternoon by now, but before heading home I thought I’d better take advantage of the opportunity to visit Warm Springs Wildlife Management Area, one of Montana’s top birding destinations. It being migration season, the possibilities were almost endless of what I might find, but I kept my expectations low. Why? Primarily because much of Warm Springs is not easily accessible. The refuge consists mainly of several very large reservoirs designed to help clean toxic chemicals from the waters pouring out of the world famous Berkeley Pit copper mine in Butte. The road, however, only gets close to these bodies of water in certain places, so it’s easy to miss rarities that might show up. Nonetheless, I took the “back entrance” into the refuge and soon found myself at the bottom of the large, southernmost reservoir. The scene before me immediately put me in a happy place.

**This photo doesn’t capture the size and scope of the Warm Springs ponds—or how amazing they look filled with waterfowl!**

Stretching across the water were hundreds, no, thousands of ducks and other water birds, and I quickly set up my scope for a proper look. I usually try to estimate bird numbers wherever I am, but as I searched across the reservoir with the scope, I quickly abandoned that effort. I recorded 5000 coots, but that could easily be low. I also saw hundreds of Northern Shovelers and Ruddy Ducks, and noted plenty of Buffleheads, Ring-necked Ducks, Lesser Scaups, Gadwalls, American Wigeons, and more. A duck party!

**Just a few of the birds stretching out before me at Warm Springs. Pop quiz: can you identify three species?**

When scoping such a vast array of birds, it’s a natural instinct to look for the unusual or rare species, and after a few minutes, I landed on a pair of Red-necked Grebes—my first of the year. My biggest find, however, was the year’s first Yellow-rumped Warbler (Audubon’s) in the trees next to me! After making an inadequate attempt to eBird what I saw before me, I jumped back in the minivan and continued up the road. I passed a resident pair of Bald Eagles, and then pulled over at a small fishing access next to a long dike that separated this reservoir from the next. I grabbed my binoculars and ventured out onto the dike, and right away saw another Red-necked Grebe. Then, I recognized a bird that made me rush back to the minivan for my camera. I hurried back out onto the dike and trained my lens on it—a Common Loon!

During breeding season, Red-necked Grebes have a circumpolar distribution, but in the US they breed only in a few areas along our northern border. Fortunately, Montana is one of those places—though this guy/gal may well have been heading to Canada or Alaska.

Now, loons are not exactly rare in Montana, but they aren’t gimmes, either (for instance, see post “Rare Bird Hat Trick”). Last year, I saw only one—a quick fly-over at Glacier National Park. If you don’t visit one of the lakes where they breed in summer, you have to catch them during migration. Braden and I have seen a number of COLOs during fall migration, but this was the first I could remember in spring. But wait. As I was trying to get a decent photo of this loon, another one popped up nearby. “No way!” I muttered out loud. But wait, then I spotted a third, and eventually, a fourth! (I think I saw a fifth, but these ‘torpedoes’ can travel so far under water that I can’t be sure.)

**This pair of Common Loons defines the word serenity.**

Needless to say, I felt “loonstatic.” My only problem? Every bird was backlit, making a good photo impossible. To try to rectify this, I walked around to the parking area where I could get “up-light” of the birds, hoping they wouldn’t depart before I reached a good spot. They didn’t. I took enough photos that I finally got a really nice one (see below). My other problem, though, is that . . . I needed to relax.

**After capturing my best COLO shot ever, it was time to Zen out with some quiet loon time.**

More and more, recently, Braden and I have discussed the obsession to rack up species and get good photos without pausing to really appreciate them. Both of us, in fact, have been making an effort just to be still in the moment, and with four stunningly gorgeous loons diving for food in front of me, this seemed like a perfect time. I sat down on a rock and set my camera and binoculars on the ground next to me. I watched the loons for a few moments and then just closed my eyes. I thanked the universe for this special moment and tried to breathe deeply, focusing on the now for a few minutes.

Alas, I did not attain “loon-lightenment,” but when I opened my eyes, the loons were still floating, preening, and diving in front of me. Several times, I watched them surface with crayfish in their bills. I’m not sure if the loons did anything special to them, such as knocking loose their exoskeletons, but down the hatch they went. It was beautiful.

**A little “crawfish loon-touffée” for lunch!**

My birding had not finished, either. After Warm Springs, I tooled up the road a few miles to another spot that many birders don’t take time to check out—Racetrack Pond. Often, there’s not much to see at Racetrack, but I had occasionally stumbled into some treats. Again, it was migration season, so you just never knew. As I pulled off the interstate and turned right, I immediately saw a couple of hundred gulls out on small islands in the pond. “Hm,” I thought. “Maybe I can pick up some California Gulls there.” As I drove closer, however, I realized that they weren’t gulls. They were Snow Geese!

I pulled over and again set up the spotting scope—and not just to see the Snow Geese. I had an ulterior motive. Almost exactly a year earlier, at Browns Lake, I had stumbled into some migrating Ross’s Geese mixed in with a large Snow Geese flock. “Maybe there are some Ross’s hiding in this one,” I thought with an evil grin. I diligently scanned the flock for several minutes, mainly looking for any geese with stubby pink bills. Ross’s, though, also are a bit smaller than SNGO and tend to have a cleaner, whiter appearance. I thought I was going to strike out when I glimpsed two geese that fit the, ahem, bill. I watched them for at least ten minutes before discarding any doubts. Yay! This was only my third time ever seeing Ross’s Geese, and to get them two years in a row felt like an accomplishment. By the way, ROGOs are also a wonderful conservation success story. Their numbers had dropped to just a few thousand by the 1950s. Today, it is estimated that there are more than two million! Let’s hear it for conservation!

**Can you pick out the two Ross’s Geese in this photo? Once you know what you’re looking for, they stand out like, well, um, Ross’s Geese.** **The prominent, clean white goose just right of center is one of them. The other is swimming toward it from about 10 o’clock.**

My discoveries weren’t over. At the north end of the pond, I again pulled out the scope to discover a Greater Yellowlegs, a Killdeer, and two real surprises—an American Avocet and five, count ‘em, FIVE Marbled Godwits. “Perhaps they’re heading to the same place as yesterday’s Willets,” I wondered (see our last post). I later learned that large flocks of avocets had been rampaging through the state, so this one was right on schedule.

**With the help of my spotting scope, I was able to pick out the American Avocet (far left) and Marbled Godwits (far right) along the far shore of Racetrack Pond.**

With another wonderful day of birding under my belt, it was time to head home, but really, these days just primed my birding pump. Many adventures lie ahead—especially when Braden returns home from Costa Rica in a couple of weeks. Be prepared for plenty of posts this summer!