Tag Archives: Ninepipe NWR

Bustin’ Out for Birdathon

The Wings Across the Big Sky Festival is less than two weeks away and Braden I look forward to seeing some of you there. It’s not too late to sign up. Just click here for what promises to be a terrific weekend of birding Montana’s stunning northwest corner. Braden and I will be leading two field trips, one to Tally Lake and the other to the CSKT Bison Range. Even if you’re not on those trips, please say hello! Meanwhile, we are happy to share another recent big birding event—an exhilarating day of Birdathon to raise money for our local Audubon chapter!

On Friday, May 15^th, I woke at 4 a.m., excited to be devoting a full day—and I mean FULL—to birding. Unlike most days of birding, however, I and my team of Braden, Susan Snetsinger, and her son Eli would be dedicating our day to raising money for a good cause under the auspices of Birdathon.

Birdathon is an annual event put on by many different bird-related conservation groups, and it works much like those death marches you probably got suckered into as a youngster in which you would commit to walking twenty miles and sign up sponsors to pay you for each mile walked. Birdathon, though, is MUCH more fun than those blister-packing marathons of yesteryear because birding teams get to raise money by BIRDING!

**I find it impossible not to photograph Black-necked Stilts when I see them and, indeed, the birds showed up aplenty for Birdathon.**

In the spirit of healthy, fund-raising competition, we dubbed our team Bird Domination, but none of us had ever actually participated in a Birdathon. Undaunted, we coerced an assortment of family members and friends to donate money for each bird that we might find, deceitfully telling them that we probably would see about 100 birds during the day—even though we harbored much higher aspirations. Our donations would go to support the wonderful conservation and education work of our local birding chapter, Five Valleys Audubon, and Braden and I diligently crafted a route that would net us the most birds in a single day.

**Team Domination: (L to R) Sneed, Braden, Eli, and Susan.**

Braden and I decided to start at dawn with a quick trip up Rattlesnake Creek in our own neighborhood to pick up a few birds we might not see anywhere else. Arriving at the trailhead at 5:30 sharp, the birds did not disappoint. In the parking lot, we immediately heard Nashville Warbler and Hammond’s Flycatcher, and walking up the main trail, an American Dipper popped out onto the trail. Turning up a side creek called Spring Gulch, we heard our last two targets for here: Townsend’s Warbler and the boom boom boom of a Ruffed Grouse! Then we hurried back to the car to collect the rest of our teammates so that our proper Birdathon could launch.

It would take way too many words—and probably bore the heck out of you—to give you a blow by blow of the entire day, but to give you the scope of our endeavor, here are the basics and highlights.

**Three distant American Bitterns (!) above Sčilíp (formerly Dixon) Marsh.** **Unimpressed, two Osprey watch from a nest.**

Our route took us from Missoula to Sčilíp (formerly Dixon) Marsh and past the CSKT Bison Range to Ninepipe National Wildlife Refuge. From there, we drove to Bigfork, down the Seeley Swan Valley and then over to Browns Lake. Our last big push carried us across the Continental Divide to Great Falls and our final destination—Benton Lake National Wildlife Refuge—before making the long return trip to Missoula.

Total time elapsed: 17-1/2 hours.

Total miles driven: 552.

**Swainson’s Hawk perched high on our list of desired raptors and we saw four at Benton Lake NWR.**

Before getting to our actual bird highlights, I must say a few words about how much gasoline we consumed. As I’ve continued birding, I’ve been more and more reluctant to drive a lot, even to chase birds since burning gas contributes to climate change and directly impacts the creatures we love. Birdathon, however, coincided with birding destinations Braden and I had planned to visit this spring anyway. I especially wanted to make sure I got over the divide at least once to see some of Montana’s eastern species. So in addition to raising money, Birdathon allowed us to “double dip” on a lot of things we were going to do anyway—and it was a bonus to “carpool” with Susan and Eli, making it a relatively energy-efficient trip overall.

**Sandhill Cranes have a habit of nesting right under our noses and, indeed, we discovered one nesting only a few yards away at one of our stops near Browns Lake.**

Speaking of energy, I also have to add that while Braden and I drove and planned the event, Susan and Eli kept us energized with homemade egg sandwiches, 18-inch torpedo sandwiches, caffeinated beverages, and an unlimited variety of snacks. In other words, Team Bird Domination set out perfectly prepared to have an epic day. And with that, here are but a few of the day’s incredible highlights:

**A fun shorebird assortment at Benton Lake NWR. Can you name them all?** (Answer at the bottom)

Watching three American Bitterns flying over Sčilíp (formerly Dixon) Marsh. For context, we had never even heard an American Bittern here—and seen and heard only three or four in the entire state. At first, in fact, we thought the three birds might be Great Blue Herons, but Braden’s astute eyes picked out the brown color and dark ends of the wings. WOW!
A surprise Short-eared Owl at Ninepipe. Usually, these critters “bed down” a couple of hours after sunrise, but overcast skies probably helped this one keep hunting until we arrived. THANK YOU, OWL.
A Long-billed Curlew at Ninepipe—a curlew that turned out to be a WHIMBREL, again, thanks to Braden’s keen ID skills. Only a handful of whimbrels end up in Montana each year, and almost never west of the divide. This was the first one recorded at Ninepipe in six years—a truly rare find that helped render the entire day a spectacular hit, even though it wasn’t half over.
A clean sweep of large prairie-dwelling shorebirds at Benton Lake NWR, including Upland Sandpiper, Long-billed Curlew (that didn’t turn into a whimbrel), Willets, and Marbled Godwits.

**Grabbing Bird of the Day honors, we caught this rare-for-Montana Hudsonian Whimbrel hanging out with some distant Canada Geese!**

Speaking of Benton Lake, this was the first time we’d birded there in mid-May and it was interesting to note who was home. Usually, for instance, there are thousands of breeding Franklin’s Gulls, but we saw only a couple of dozen. Ditto for Eared Grebes which can dot the lake in the many hundreds. We counted fewer than one hundred, though couldn’t accurately assess the far sides of the upper lake where they mostly hang out. On the other hand, we saw more White-faced Ibises than we’d ever seen—about seventy. It’s hard to make any generalizations from this since the bar charts show that all of these birds should be there in strong numbers now, but we did feel that some of the birds are arriving a bit late this year.

**A great bonus to birding this time of the year was witnessing several species courting and mating, including these Western Grebes.**

Other great birds we saw or heard included Yellow-breasted Chat, a lagging Snow Goose, a Horned Grebe, Cassin’s Vireo, Chestnut-collared and Thick-billed Longspurs, Wilson’s Phalarope, Swainson’s Hawk, and the marsh trifecta of Sora, Virginia Rail, and Wilson’s Snipe. We definitely had a few misses, such as Common Loon, Golden Eagle, Black Tern, and Black-crowned Night Heron but we all agreed that the birds really came through for us, perhaps having heard that our efforts were going to help birds!

Our final tally came in at a mind-blowing 135 species—enough to bankrupt our sponsors and ensure that we will participate in Birdathons far into the future!

**Photography did not rank high on our list of priorities during Birdathon, but this Dark-eye Junco with prey did pose for my best ever DEJU shot.**

Bird ID Answers: Long-billed Curlew (1), American Avocets (2), Marbled Godwits (5).

FSB’s Third Annual Short-Eared Owl Lousy Photo Shoot!

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You knew it was coming. You heard the rumours. You’ve waited patiently, and guess what? Today is the day! Right this second, Braden and I are proud to reveal FSB’s Third Annual Short-Eared Owl Lousy Photo Shoot!

Like many birders, Braden and I try to “bird in” the new year with one or more big days of birding somewhere near our home in Missoula. The past couple of years, we’ve headed to Ninepipe National Wildlife Refuge about an hour north of us, mainly because it’s a reliable place for a variety of birds and is especially good for hawks, falcons, and other raptors. This year, our day was shaped by a couple of fun additional circumstances. One is that our long-time friends Susan Snetsinger and her son (Braden’s pal) Eli Frederickson happily agreed to join us for our birding excursion. The other is that a putative sighting of an Arctic Loon on the north end of Flathead Lake sent all of us Montana birders into a tizzy. Why? Because an Arctic Loon has never been reported in the state!

**For the third year in a row, we decided to head north through the spectacular Mission Valley for our first major birding expedition of the year.**

(To view our past two “lousy owl” photo blogs, see our posts Lost in Owls and Plenty of Partridges.)

Unfortunately, on December 30^th, yours truly woke up with his first cold in two years and was in no shape to venture out on January 1st. No problem. Everyone agreed to push back our outing to January 3^rd and, more important, the Arctic Loon was still being reported! As we set out before dawn, fog and ice covered our route, making driving sketchy, especially with the pre-dawn danger of deer wandering out onto the highway. Braden, though, fearlessly drove us north and as we passed the National Bison Range, a bit of light began seeping in through the fog.

We decided to head to the loon first and that afforded Susan and Eli a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to join Braden and me at our favorite French breakfast spot, McDaniels, in Ronan. I even convinced the two of them to order my favorite morning birding beverage, a large iced tea, to help power us all through the day.

**From left to right, Braden, Sneed, Eli, and Susan as we pursued our spirited quest to locate the “Arctic Loon.”**

After a fruitless stop to look for Long-eared Owls near Polson, we arrived at our destination of Somers on Flathead Lake just after 11 a.m. Dan Casey, who first reported the Arctic Loon, had kindly noted several viewing possibilities from the lakeshore, and we began visiting these. Right off the bat, we saw some interesting birds. These included Red-necked Grebes, a species we had never found in Montana at this time of year, and a couple of Blue Jays, a species Braden and I totally missed in our home state last year.

We saw no sign of a loon of any kind, so continued to explore the lakeshore. More fun birds popped up, including a variety of ducks, Trumpeter Swans, and one of our favorite winter birds, Northern Shrikes. We also toured the neighborhood where we’d seen our lifer Snowy Owl eight years ago (see our very first post, A Quest for Snowy Owls). None of the owls have been reported this winter, but we thought, “Might as well give it a try.” We eventually left the Kalispell area both owl-less and loon-less, but none of us really minded. We were still seeing birds and even better, enjoying each other’s company.

**Any day you find a Northern Shrike is a good birding day—and we saw three or four of them during our expedition**.

90 minutes later, we were turning down Duck Road at Ninepipe. It was only 3 p.m., but this time of year it felt a lot later. Much of the fog at cleared, but mist still hung off of the spectacular mountains in the distance, giving everything an other-worldly feel. We drove slowly and picked up some expected raptors: Rough-legged and Red-tailed Hawks, Northern Harrier, Bald Eagle, and American Kestrel.

“Should we go drive by the Short-eared Owl place?” I asked Braden.

“Sure,” he answered and began searching for the location on his phone.

We didn’t get that far.

Heading south on Ninepipe Road, he suddenly shouted, “There’s one!”

I am especially proud of this lousy Short-eared Owl Shot. See how I tilted the camera to make it appear that the owl is flying downhill? Well, guess what? It wasn’t! I just used my advanced photo skills to make you think that. This is a highly complex and dangerous technique, however, so don’t try it at home!

I immediately pulled over so we could all look and, sure enough, there was one of our favorite creatures flying low over a marsh area in the distance.

We had barely begun to look at it, however, when Eli shouted, “There’s another one!”

“Oh my god,” Braden added, scanning with his binos, “There’s three more way out beyond that!”

**If I’d been trying harder, I would have been able to capture up to five SEOWs in one shot–but that might have made the photo TOO good for this blog!**

We clambered out of our minivan, and the more we looked, the more Short-eared Owls we saw. These weren’t quick glances, either. Some of the owls appeared to be hunting, dropping quickly into the marsh for a go at a vole. Others looked to be courting, sparring and jousting “good-naturedly” and briefly locking talons before circling around again. A couple of owls spent a few minutes chasing away a Northern Harrier who apparently lacked the firepower to defend her space.

**This SEOW did not want its identity revealed, so as you can see I used sophisticated AI processing to blur out its face.**

While these weren’t the closest SEOWs we’d ever seen, this was far and away the best Short-eared Owl experience any of us had ever had. Not only were the owls engaging in all kinds of interesting behaviors, we had this winter spectacular all to ourselves.

**We encountered nary another birder during our half hour enjoying this “most owl” spectacle!**

Oh, and did I mention that I got to take more than a dozen lousy Short-eared Owl photos? That felt particularly gratifying since, after three years, I’ve got a reputation to uphold! We hope you enjoy the gallery and keep tuning in to FatherSonBirding. Even more, we hope you keep having your own magical birding moments.

Happy New Year!

P.S. Oh, it turns out that the Arctic Loon got “downgraded” to a Pacific Loon. C’est la loon!

**Even without the owls, a winter visit to the Mission Valley is a soulful, satisfying experience. Oh, and can you find Trumpeter Swans in this picture?**

Swift-ecta!

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In an earlier post, we may have let slip that both Braden and I are on a tear for our 2025 global species lists (see our post In Search of the Green-tailed Towhee). That’s due to a variety of factors. Braden not only drove across the country from Maine to Montana this past spring (see last post), he embarked on intense birding trips to Oaxaca, Mexico (see post Birding in Oaxaca, Mexico) and Costa Rica. As for me, I received delightful last-minute invitations to Colombia (post Antpittas and Tody-Flycatchers), thanks to FSB contributor Roger Kohn, and to Texas, where I spoke about my book Birding for Boomers. The upshot of all this is that Braden has seen almost 800 species of birds this year, while I am within twenty birds of breaking my all-time record of 527.

The thing is, twenty birds in Montana in late July is more challenging than it sounds. Birds common in May or June become increasingly difficult to detect and find, so if you don’t have them by August you may not get them at all. That means you’ll have to rely on migrants—which are notoriously unpredictable—or winter arrivals that you probably got earlier in the year. As a result, I’ve recently been focused on picking up the remaining common birds that I so far haven’t seen. Top on my list? Say’s Phoebe.

**Last year, I saw a Say’s Phoebe near the base of Missoula’s Pattee Canyon. Alas, that one eluded me this year, forcing me to search farther afield!**

Say’s Phoebes are cool little flycatchers that love to nest on human-made structures such as barns, covered porches, and utility buildings. While not rare, they seem to be pretty picky about their accommodations, and we run into them only infrequently in Montana. As I write this, for example, only four sightings have been reported in Missoula County in the past month. While scouring eBird, though, I did note regular sightings up at Kerr Dam below Flathead Lake. Braden and I had discussed doing a birding day trip, so two Tuesdays ago we set out early, Say’s Phoebes our Number One goal.

Before leaving Missoula, Braden asked if we could stop at Greenough Park. He had been pursuing a birding challenge with friends back East to see how many species they could find every day for seven days in a row. “I want to pick up Lazuli Bunting and Swainson’s Thrush,” he told me. This search happened to lead to the first delightful surprise of the day. As we were walking up a dirt trail, we approached a cottonwood tree where Braden had found a Western Screech Owl two days before. Today, he suddenly exclaimed, “Oh my god! It’s a baby!” Sure enough, a WSOW baby sat only a yard from its parent about twenty feet up the tree. Here, our day had just begun and already it had been a wonderful outing!

**This adorable little guy was the first baby Western Screech-Owl Braden and I had ever seen!**

Still, we had a lot of ground to cover. After a fortifying meal at our favorite French restaurant, McDaniels (in honor of Rogére), we headed up to Ninepipe NWR. We didn’t have any major agenda there except perhaps to snag some shorebirds. For July, it was an unusually cool, overcast day and we joked that we might see some Black Swifts. For those unfamiliar with Black Swifts, they are one of the most elusive and rare birds in the US. They nest mainly behind waterfalls and, especially with climate change, are highly vulnerable throughout their range. In Montana, I had never seen one outside of Glacier National Park, and it was pie-in-the-sky logic to even hope we might see one here out in the valley.

**Braden poring through intermolt ducks at Ninepipe.**

Anyway, we stopped at one Ninepipe pullout just off Hwy 93. The ducks were in their almost-impossible-to-identify intermolt plumages, but we still saw a nice variety of them plus Trumpeter Swans, American White Pelicans, Double-crested Cormorants, and Great Blue Herons. “Where are the Black Swifts?” I pressed Braden, but he shrugged off my flippant remark.

**Though we hadn’t seen any Black Swifts, the low cloud cover at least admitted the possibility that they would venture down into the valleys from their mountain waterfall hideaways.**

The phoebes on our minds, we didn’t want to spend too much time at Ninepipe, but decided to stop at one more pullout and, again, found the usual suspects. We both searched the skies for Black Swifts just in case, but didn’t see any. “I have to go to the bathroom,” Braden said, and I kept looking around for various birds. As soon as Braden emerged from the outhouse, however, he shouted, “Black Swifts!” Huh? My eyes darted back toward the low clouds, and there they were—four unmistakable dark shapes scything through the air!

**Black Swifts were a stunning find on a day for which we had almost no expectations.**

Though I’d seen Black Swifts before, this was my first time really getting to study them, and I noticed both similarities and differences between other swifts. Like other swifts, BLSWs have distinctive almost sickle-like shapes when they fly. With a wingspan of eighteen inches, however, they are significantly larger than Montana’s other swifts, and this shows in their flight. While Vaux’s Swifts zip around with almost mechanically stiff rapid wingbeats, Black Swift wings bend more noticeably. They still look like advanced jet fighters as they zoom through the sky, but with more flexible bodies. Braden also pointed out that Black Swifts show noticeable forks in their tails compared to Vaux’s Swifts, which look like their tails have been chopped off with a cleaver.

Swifts can usually be distinguished from swallows by their stiff-winged, scythe-like silhouette. Note the prominent fork in the tail of this BLSW that distinguishes it from Vaux’s Swifts—though White-throated Swifts can also show a fork.

We watched these rare beauties for a full five minutes before they drifted away across the lake and I even managed some cool photos. After they had gone, Braden and I just looked at each other. “Black Swifts,” he said, and we gave each other a hug.

**Swifts always remind me of fighter jets—captured here doing an F-35 impersonation.**

Remarkably, it was still only 8:30 and we had a ton of birding ahead of us. Our next stop was the roadside rest stop just south of Ronan where we picked up lone Semipalmated, Spotted, and Solitary Sandpipers, along with a pair of Long-billed Dowitchers, all undoubtedly in migration. After that, we headed to Pablo NWR in hopes of some interesting water birds. We struck out on those—but were amazed to see more than 300 Bank Swallows resting on the dirt road. “They must be migrating, too,” Braden marveled, and I agreed. In fact, it has been a very lucky swallow year for both of us with, for example, great looks at large numbers of migrating Tree Swallows and Cliff Swallows. This was the first time we’d ever seen Bank Swallows in such numbers, though. From there, it was on to our primary destination: Kerr Dam.

Braden had never been to Kerr Dam before, and I’d just gone to the overlook, but the entire site reminded me of a throwback to gentler, more civic times, when people shared more of a vision for the common good. From the overlook, we looked down on the dam itself with the Flathead River backing up into Flathead Lake beyond. Below the dam, dramatic, highly eroded cliffs framed a dramatic canyon full of promising riparian habitat.

**Braden and I both wondered what secrets the dramatic cliffs below Kerr Dam might be hiding!**

From the overlook, we watched Ospreys and Braden said, “Look, there are some Violet-green Swallows. White-throated Swifts should be here, too.” Not two minutes later, he spotted a pair flying overhead, their sickle-shaped wings and white breasts clearly visible against the blue sky. “Uh-oh,” I said. “That means that we might have to go for the Swift Trifecta and find some Vaux’s Swifts.” Braden sighed in agreement. Darn those swifts!

But we had not forgotten our main target, Say’s Phoebes. “I’m guessing they are down there at the power station below the dam,” I said. “You up for going down there?”

“Sure.”

**Squinting into the sun at the overlook to Kerr Dam, the Flathead River running south below the dam in the distance.**

Winding our way down to the power station, we were greeted by a cluster of neatly-kept houses and a fenced-in area full of transformers and other “power stuff.” All of this was surrounded by an open, pleasant park-like setting that reminded me of my days working on the Pitt River dam network in northern California just after college. We decided to get out and walk around and immediately started seeing and hearing Western Wood-Pewees, American Goldfinches, robins, Eastern Kingbirds, and other songbirds. We hadn’t walked ten minutes when suddenly, some kind of flycatcher darted out in front of us to snag an insect.

“Say’s Phoebe!” I exulted, and Braden gave me a high five. There weren’t just one, but two, working the area around the fenced-in transformer area. “This is perfect for them,” I said. “Lots of insects and plenty of structures to nest on.” Alas, they didn’t care for our attentions and kept flying away as we approached, but they and the Black Swifts brought my global year total to 509 species—just nineteen shy of breaking my record of 527. Braden already had the phoebe for the year, but the Black Swifts took his global 2025 total to an astonishing 776 species! BUT . . .

**This elusive Say’s Phoebe finally cooperated with me for 2025!**

There was still that little matter of a swift trifecta on our minds. After a cultural stop at Richwines Burgerville in Polson, we made our way slowly back to Missoula. Nowhere did we see the third Western Montana swift, Vaux’s Swift. “Let’s go to Caras Park,” Braden suggested as we reached Missoula. “I see them there pretty regularly.”

We parked near the iconic metal salmon sculpture and walked out onto the grass below the Higgin’s Street Bridge. The sun was out by now and things were warming up. Cliff Swallows flew to and from their mud nests on the side of the bridge, but I didn’t expect to see any swifts. “There’s one!” Braden suddenly shouted. Sure enough, several birds with fast, mechanical wingbeats darted back and forth after insects above the Cliff Swallows. It was a final satisfying sighting on a totally surprising, remarkable July day in Montana.

Our Day’s Trip Report: https://ebird.org/tripreport/396651?welcome=true

The small size and “chopped off” tails of Vaux’s Swifts are solid ID features to distinguish them from both Black and White-throated Swifts. These wonderful little birds completed our Western Montana “Swift-ecta” and wrapped up one of our best birding days ever.

Plenty of Partridges: Braden & I Kick Off Another Year of Birding!

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Braden and I kicked off our 2025 at one of our favorite western Montana birding spots: Ninepipe National Wildlife Refuge. While mainly envisioned as a duck factory, the surrounding farms and grasslands provide plenty of grassland bird habitat and raptor hunting grounds, so in winter that’s what we mainly search for. We began the day by looking for Short-eared Owls at a “vole-opolis” our neighbor Tim, a game bird hunter, told us about last year (see our post “Lost in Owls”). Sure enough, we got distant looks at three of these mesmerizing, long-winged raptors as they cruised low over a tapestry of grass and cattails. They were joined by a trio of Northern Harriers, birds that are so similar to Short-eared Owls in appearance and habits that they offer an almost perfect lesson in convergent evolution—the incidence of two unrelated species being shaped in similar ways by natural selection.

Braden celebrating seeing Short-eared Owls in 2025!

After our time with the owls and harriers, we set out on a leisurely cruise northward on dirt roads with the spectacular snow-capped Mission Mountains majestically gazing down on us. The raptors continued to please, with great close-up looks at our first Golden Eagle of the year, three or four Rough-legged Hawks, a couple of American Kestrels, two Merlins, plenty of Red-tailed Hawks, and no fewer than a dozen Bald Eagles.

**This Northern Harrier is seriously eye-balling a group of Gray Partridges below, but decided not to go for it.**

I’ve been worried about a dearth of small song birds all year, and that continued today. Usually, we at least see some waxwings or American Tree Sparrows at Ninepipe, but not today. I’m hoping the warmer winter somehow explains it, but I am especially concerned about the pervasive use of neonicotinoid pesticides and their deadly effects on birds. A future blog post, perhaps.

While songbirds were few and far between, we encountered a veritable population explosion of a bird we usually see only once or thrice a year: Gray Partridges! In the space of an hour or two, we saw these birds at least half a dozen times in groups ranging from four to more than a dozen. “I think I’ve seen more Gray Partridges today than in the rest of my life,” I told Braden, and it might have been true, as we totaled almost seventy of these birds. As with the rest of the day, I managed only lousy photos, but we delighted in watching these introduced, but charming, orange-faced critters.

Another fuzzy shot, but entertaining just the same—a Gray Partridge zooming toward us. These birds are unusually difficult to photograph, and I doubt I’ve ever gotten a good shot of them.

We finished the day scouring the southern shore of Flathead Lake near Polson. We had to look pretty hard, but finally found good numbers of waterfowl and gulls at Ducharme fishing access. Here we were rewarded by more than five hundred Common Mergansers, and much smaller numbers of wigeons, Mallards, Buffleheads, Green-winged Teal, Northern Pintails—and a lone Redhead. Braden also picked out several Tundra Swans from the more numerous Trumpeters.

Tundra Swans on Flathead Lake. These birds can be hard to distinguish from Trumpeter Swans, but they have small yellow patches forward of their eyes, and often have overall whiter heads and necks than Trumpeters.

Perhaps my favorite part of this last big session was focusing in on a group of seventy or eighty gulls out on a frozen edge of the lake. Part of my enthusiasm was having just received a review copy of Amar Ayyash’s epic new book, The Gull Guide: North America. I plan to write a full review of this remarkable book soon, but my first perusals have gotten me super excited to learn more about gulls. Even better, as Braden and I studied the group in front of us through our scope, we picked out both Ring-billed and Herring Gulls. Then, I paused on a gull that looked unlike any others. It had pink legs, medium gray wings, dark eyes, light head streaking, and a single red spot on the bill. It also was noticeably smaller than the Herring Gull next to it. Braden suggested a Thayer’s Iceland Gull and I have to say that I agree with him. Unfortunately, I couldn’t get decent photos and gulls are notoriously hard to ID, so we didn’t record it. Still, I’m thinking Thayer’s is what we saw.

**Ring-billed and Herring Gulls on Flathead Lake. It’s easy to pick out the Herring Gulls by their large sizes. Maybe I’ll even find some other species after studying The Gull Guide in depth!**

And so it begins . . . a great new year of birding! I hope you’ve all been able to get out and enjoy the remarkable avian wildlife our planet is blessed with. In fact, if you haven’t already done so, I urge you to support one or more of the terrific conservation groups working to make sure birds are always with us. For more info, see our post “Saving Birds. It’s Time.” Thanks for reading and I hope to see some of you out there birding soon!

Lost in Owls

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As 2023 winds down, we hope you enjoy our penultimate post on one of everyone’s favorite subjects. Before that, we have some great news to share. Sneed’s picture book Border Crossings has received NCTE’s prestigious Orbis Pictus Award for nonfiction! This is one of the literary world’s top children’s book awards and was inspired by, you guessed it, Braden’s and Sneed’s birding adventures along the US Mexico border. Learn more and order by clicking here!

**Border Crossings—winner of the 2024 Orbis Pictus Award!**

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?