Tag Archives: Raptors

My Big Silly January

Setting and surpassing goals plays a big role for many of us birders. Big Years, Big Months, Big Days, State Big Years, Bicycle Big Days, Global Big Days—the list of ways we challenge ourselves are endless. And while I’m no longer a big fan of Big Years that require burning up a ton of fossil fuels, Braden and I still partake in local challenges, or those that unfold seemingly on their own. Such was the situation I found myself in late January.

Thanks mainly to a vigorous day of birding with Braden on January 2nd, in which I found 47 species here in western Montana, and the surprise trip to Victoria that Amy planned for my 65th birthday (38 more species), by January 20th I found that I had seen 88 bird species for the month. They were awesome birds, too, ranging from Short-eared Owls and Golden Eagles here in Montana to Pacific Loons, Harlequin Ducks, and a Marbled Murrelet in Canada (click here). Interestingly, I realized that with ten days to go, I needed to see only four more species to make this my best January of birding ever! Even so, I had a lot of writing to catch up on and I wasn’t sure that I wanted to intentionally make the effort. A couple of things convinced me to go for it.

Lola played an instrumental role in advancing my Big January goals!

The first was that while walking our dog Lola in the neighborhood, I found my first Northern Pygmy-Owl of the year—a delightful little guy soaking up the last rays of sun high in a Ponderosa Pine. The next day—also while walking Lola, through Greenough Park—I espied my first American Dippers of the year. Three days after that, the year’s first White-breasted Nuthatch visited our backyard feeder, the first I’d seen there in a couple of years. Suddenly, just like that, I was one bird away from breaking my record. What, oh what, to do? Too much sittin’ on my butt and a forecast for a beautiful winter day answered the question. I called our friend Susan, who has been getting into birding more and more the past couple of years. I told her, “You know, there’s a Rusty Blackbird over near Deer Lodge, and we may be able to find some Snow Buntings. Do you want to go see if we can find them?” She also needed a birding break, so the next morning, we headed east.

Though we didn’t find Snow Buntings or the Rusty Blackbird, Susan was especially excited to get to know Rough-legged Hawks better.

We spent a delightful morning driving the roads between Deer Lodge and Anaconda. We may have seen a Snow Bunting, but it flew away before we could make a definite ID. We also saw the Rusty Blackbird—right as a couple of other birders scared it away. Since we couldn’t ID it ourselves, we didn’t put it on the list, either. Fortunately, in the parking lot that led to the Rusty Blackbird, we found four Horned Larks! Yay! I had it! A new January record!

Susan and I failed to get an ID-able look at a rare Rusty Blackbird. But note the famous Anaconda smelter stack in the distance!

But here’s the problem. Once you break one record, and realize that you are perilously close to another landmark—in this case, 100 birds for the month—it’s virtually impossible not to go for it. By now, I had revealed my January ambitions to Susan, and not only did she get as excited as I did about them, she was all in on getting me to 100 species for the month. As we pulled away from the Horned Larks, I said, “Are you up for driving by Discovery Ski Area on the way home?” “Let’s do it.”

Employees at Discovery kindly put out bird feeders that keep Pine Grosbeaks, Mountain Chickadees, and other higher-altitude birds nurtured during cold winter days.

Loyal readers of FatherSonBirding will recognize that in years past, Discovery Ski Area has been a go-to place for Braden and me to pick up several challenging species, and as Susan and I approached the parking area, we saw our first of these: Canada Jay. After parking, we visited the bird feeders and had a fun time picking up two others: Mountain Chickadee and Pine Grosbeak. Clark’s Nutcracker was the only bird that didn’t cooperate with my 100-species plans, but still, I left the ski area with 96 species. Could I really get four more species before the month ran out? Did I want to? No, I decided. I didn’t need to drive around burning up gas just trying to break a silly record. However, the Universe seemed to have other plans.

Portrait of a Canada Jay. See them while you can. Canada has announced that it will no longer allow these birds to be in the US if President Trump does indeed impose tariffs on our northern neighbor.

The afternoon of January 29th, I was again walking Lola in the neighborhood when I saw two more birds I needed for the month and year: Hairy Woodpecker and Cedar Waxwing, both of which I thought I’d already seen! Then, a Greater White-fronted Goose was sighted out beyond the Missoula Airport. I had never seen one of these birds in Montana, and it was a rare opportunity to do so, so on January 31st, I loaded my spotting scope and camera into the car and headed out to the site. My January and Year lists now stood at 98 species.

Long-story short: I did not find the Greater White-fronted Goose among the Canada Geese that were out there. As I was watching other CAGOs fly in, however, I was stunned to see a white goose flying with them! Stupidly, I did not try to gauge the size of this surprising arrival. If it were a bit larger it would be a Snow Goose; a bit smaller, Ross’s Goose. Either one would get me to 99 species—but not if I couldn’t identify it! Sighing and simply putting down “white goose” on my list, I resigned myself to not breaking that magical 100 number.

Since I was out there, however, I decided to swing by Council Grove State Park for a look around. The number of birds out there in the dead of winter surprised me. I was delighted to hear a Belted Kingfisher and spot Green-winged Teals and a Great Blue Heron. Then, two Killdeer flew by. As I was following a trail back around to the parking lot, however, I espied a small, soft lump on a branch out of the corner of my eye. “No way,” I muttered, and trained my new binoculars on it. It was another Northern Pygmy-Owl—the first I’d ever found all on my own. Even though it wouldn’t help with my goal of 100 birds, I was totally psyched by this find and spent ten minutes watching it before it winged away at hyper-speed.

Even though it didn’t help me with my 100-bird goal, seeing this Northern Pygmy-Owl was an awesome way to finish out an awesome January of birding.

So, no 100 birds. No century mark.

Or so I thought.

That evening, when I happened to glance at my bird list for the month, I was surprised to see that it stood not at 98 species as I expected, but at 99! The Killdeer I saw at Council Grove, it turned out, were also a new species for me for 2025! And then, several other birders confirmed that the white goose that I saw was indeed a Snow Goose! Ka-ching!

I’ll admit that getting to 100 wasn’t pretty, but like I said, the Universe seemed to want me to get there and, well, I’ll take it. It just shows you that a lot of great things can happen in birding—even setting silly records!

Partial FSB Reveal: We won’t be posting near the end of February and early March, but if all goes as planned, we should have some truly stunning posts for you then. Stay tuned!

Morro Bay Bird Festival report (Guest Post by Scott Callow)

(All photos copyright Steve Rosso or Scott Callow.)

My former work colleague, Steve, and I spent 2 hours deciding which walks and talks we would do at our first winter Morro Bay Bird Festival. It was just over a week since the registration opened. Everything we chose turned out to be full, even with over 263 events, 191 of them field trips.  Lesson learned. (We later learned that the Pelagic Boat Trip filled within an hour.) We were able to sign up for two outings, a Big Day at the inland Santa Margarita Lake and a “Back of the Bay” walk in Los Osos. Steve also made the wise demand to stop at the Pinnacles National Monument on our way down, and convinced me to spend the extra money ($55) on a boating tour of Morro Bay itself. (Readers are encouraged to open up a map of the region.)

On our trip down, we got good looks at a well-known California endemic, Yellow-billed Magpie (see post “College Search Birding in California”).

Our first stop was along the lonely Highway 25 between Hollister and Pinnacles’ east entrance. We badly wanted one soaring raptor to be a California Condor but it turned out to be a Golden Eagle. Later (2-3pm), at the observation overlook a mile up the Condor Gulch Trail, more than 15 dark soaring birds suddenly appeared as a group from behind the eroded sandstone Hain’s Peak. I confidently identified four as Condors, one as a Golden Eagle (clearly seeing the difference between each’s white markings on the undersides), and many Turkey Vultures. Steve’s new camera clicked away. At the trailhead, a ranger told us that, years ago, the population was below 10 individuals when reintroduction began and now the local population had swelled to “three digits.”

Pinnacles National Park. And yes, at least some of those black specks are California Condors!

The next morning we embarked on our first festival field trip: a Big Day at Santa Margarita Lake. It was led by Mark Holmgren, retired curator of the natural history museum and collection at UC Santa Barbara (my alma mater and where Sneed got his master’s degree). Highlights included comparing Eared, Horned, Western, Clark’s and Pied-billed Grebes, listening to Fox’s Sparrows, California Thrashers, and Wrentits, and observing raptor behavior. Speaking of, we saw Ospreys and Bald Eagles fishing (one birder theorized the adult eagles were teaching the juvenile), two Peregrine falcons mobbing a raven, and two Peregrines (perhaps the same) apparently fighting over food in mid-air or in courtship display. I got good looks at the yellow lores of a White-throated Sparrow.

Winter is a nice time to compare Clark’s (shown here) and Western Grebes, which can sometimes be difficult to tell apart. Clark’s Grebes have more orangish bills versus greenish-yellowish on Westerns. The black also rises above the eye on Clark’s, though that’s not as clear-cut on this individual.

Tired from our long day, we drove to the Morro Bay Community Center downtown and attended one of the two  receptions. Included in the cost of registration were free local wines (multiple pours allowed), and extensive noshing trays of cheese, meats, veggies, crackers, and artisan chocolates.  The adjacent bazaar impressed with booths for 3-4 high-end binocular/gear manufacturers, book shops, authors, nature art and nature organizations. The bazaar was well attended and the noise generated rivaled that of a Spring morning chorus.

The bird fest’s exhibit area had a nice variety of vendors and non-profits to occupy us between birding trips, talks, and meals.

Our dinner at Morro Bay’s affordable, healthy and creative Asian fusion cafe, Chowa Bowl is recommended, as is the lunch combo Big Deal of sushi roll and ramen noodles at Baywood-Los Osos’ funky hangout, Kuma. This is important info to a birder even though food and beverages are barely mentioned in The Avian Survival Kit chapter of Birding for Boomers. Good food and libations can elevate a birding trip. (Editor’s Note: We at FSB take exception to this criticism, as we have frequently mentioned fine dining establishments such as McDonald’s, Wendy’s, and Starbucks.)

Next day’s Back of the Bay trip was not only highlighted by lunch, but by Audubon’s Sweet Springs Nature Preserve. It’s a small preserve with a spring-fed creek and excellent views from its wooden observation decks of the bay’s mudflats and its shorebirds, ducks, gulls, and terns—tons of them (which is saying a lot since birds are so light.) With Morro Rock and Morro Dunes in the background, we saw Lesser and Western Sandpipers, too many Brants to count, 30+ Green-winged Teals, 4 Blue-winged Teals, American Wigeon, Northern Shoveler, Bufflehead, Long-billed Curlew, Killdeer, Black-bellied Plover, Great Egret, and Greater Yellowlegs. We learned the Greater has three notes in its call compared to the two notes of the Lesser. Ring-billed Gulls, Belted Kingfishers, and Forster’s Terns were seen flying above the bay.

These are the ducks that inspired The Guess Who’s 1970 Number One single “American Wigeon”. Fun Fact: Sneed saw The Guess Who’s lead singer, Burton Cummings, perform this song live in Rapid City, South Dakota in 1977. Sneed was favorably impressed by this performance—until ZZ Top took the stage and basically burned the place down.

In the narrow woodland area between street and bay we saw both Hairy and Nuttall’s Woodpeckers, and Chestnut-backed Chickadee. Then, local guide Dean led our car caravan down the road apiece to his friend’s house which sported about six bird feeders that earned a hot spot ranking on eBird. More chickadees, the ubiquitous House Finch, the most common local warblers—Yellow-rumped, Orange-crowned, Townsend’s—and Lincoln’s, Golden-crowned and White-crowned Sparrows. We also saw our Oak Titmouse, formerly lumped with Plain Titmouse, at the bird feeders. Its range is mostly endemic to California (stretching into parts of Oregon and Mexico) and the bird shares its place with the Acorn Woodpecker as a signature species in California’s oak woodlands.

Dean also shared his mnemonic for our (Pacific Group) White-crowned Sparrow – “Awf man!, I dough-ont wanna see”. It’s a bit of a stretch but “I don’t want to see” sums up many people’s  self-engineered denials of science nowadays, so I decided to add it to my mnemonic checklist.

The rarity highlight of the trip was the sole Blue-winged/Cinnamon Teal hybrid. I “put good eyes on it” but Steve left his camera in the car because he logically thought he’d get better shorebird and bay bird shots on the following day’s boating trip.

Female, juvenile, and nonbreeding Red-breasted Mergansers (above) can be difficult to distinguish from Common Mergansers, especially in winter, when they can be swimming side by side. We think this is a Red-breasted because of its a) slightly thinner, upturned bill b) indistinct transition between the brown and gray on its neck and c) its crazier “hair-do”.

Our inside-the-bay boat trip the next day also included a fellow (and local) birder, Mike, who led bird trips. Steve and I learned a lot from him. The trip was created as a photography outing and the leader focused on pointing out good shots. The captain, also a birder, put the boat in good lighting and locations for the photographers. We were inspired to overtip him. The trip started in a downtown marina and we made a loop up to Morro Rock, along the rock jetties past the bay’s opening to the ocean, and then back into the bay to the mudflats of the Morro Bay Estuary. As we returned back to the docks, we passed the Morro Bay State Park Boardwalk, the Museum of Natural History, the Morro Bay Water Access, and Heron Rookery Natural Preserve—all excellent spots to bird from the shore, and perfect for photographers from the water due to the sun’s location.

We saw Peregrine Falcons above The Rock, Black Oystercatchers and Black Turnstones on the rocks, Black-crowned Night Herons in the trees, Ospreys on the masts, Common and Red-breasted Mergansers, several Eared Grebes and a Horned for comparison, and a nice collection of Brandt’s, Pelagic, and Double-crested Cormorants floating on a wooden raft. The Brandt’s Cormorants were especially striking with their iridescent coats and bright blue throat pouches. We were surprised to see some of the adults sporting very early breeding plumage marked by brilliant white “whisker” feathers around the ears and shoulders.

Cormorants put on a show under the gaze of their Western Gull overlord. Note the brilliant blue gular pouches on the Brandt’s Cormorants, along with their wispy white breeding feathers on the necks. A Double-crested with yellow markings skulks in the background.

Further inside the bay near the mudflats we saw large numbers, reaching into the hundreds, of Double-crested Cormorants, Marbled Godwits, and other shorebirds too far away to ID, plus good showings of White Pelicans, Ospreys, Ring-billed and Western Gulls, Northern Pintails, Buffleheads and Long-billed Curlews, Willets, and Greater Yellowlegs, as well as other common shorebirds not listed.  Mike told us that the Pelagic Boat Trip ($160) was fantastic. If interested, check the bird list from the trip on the festival’s website.

Our “Inside of the Bay” boat trip featured a great variety of seabirds and shorebirds. Here, American White Pelicans earn extra style points.

The last night’s keynote speaker was Kenn Kaufman, author of Kingbird Highway, multiple nature guides, and his new The Birds that Audubon Missed: Discovery and Desire in the American Wilderness. He extolled birders to persist in their nature explorations, even beyond birds, and to pause the inclination to aggressively list in order to truly observe. He described the Morro Bay region as a “globally important ecological area” and the all-volunteer festival as top-notch and well organized, ranking it among the highest of the many he has attended. 

232 species were identified collectively during the 5-day festival in mid-January. Events included typical bird walks, birding by boat, bicycle and kayak, birding for youth, beginners and advanced birders, birding with wine and olive oil tastings. Sites extended beyond the Morro Bay area including the  Kern National Wildlife Refuge, the Carrizo Plains Ecological Reserve, various ranches, Atascadero, San Luis Obispo, and Pismo Beach. Check out the Long Report of the Festival Events Including Details on the website. More details than you will need to convince you to make next year’s festival are found at morrobaybirdfestival.org.

Scott (right) and Steve (left) while birding with Sneed in Marin County last fall. (I don’t know why Scott’s head looks a bit squished. I blame climate change, not my photographic skills.)

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

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.

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.

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!

Montana County Sweep: Our Final Eastern Montana Odyssey Post

Just so you don’t get lost in the narrative below, be sure you catch up with our last post—or, better yet, begin with the first post in this series!

We made our way out of the Ekalaka Hills along a different road than the one we came in on—and are so glad that we did! This route paralleled the top of a dramatic rim that dropped hundreds of feet to the plains below. As we drove, we experienced a wealth of warblers, nuthatches, Mountain Bluebirds, wrens, and other songbirds. I wasn’t quite satisfied with our view, though, so I told Braden, “Pull over. I want to walk to the edge.”

I will never get tired of watching and photographing Lark Sparrows, but this one along the Ekalaka Hills rim was especially cooperative!

Even as I approached the rim, I could see White-throated Swifts and Violet-green Swallows working the cliffs, and once we got there we experienced breathtaking views, perhaps all the way to South Dakota . Then I saw the bird I especially had been hoping for. “Braden!” I called. “Prairie Falcon!”

The cliffs on the south side of the Ekalaka Hills gave us our best-ever experience watching Prairie Falcons hunting.

This was a bird we had wanted to see the entire trip, but never dreamed of seeing in such dramatic circumstances. Braden hurried over to join me and we watched as this powerful, brown-backed bird deftly cut through the skies in front of us. “Wait. There’s a second one,” I said. “You’re right,” Braden exclaimed.

We spent a full ten or fifteen minutes enjoying the prowess of these magnificent hunters, and it made both of us feel good to know that the pair was undoubtedly nesting in a perfect place for them. Alas, we still had some serious goals ahead of us that day, so we reluctantly said goodbye and continued on our way.

Braden watching the Prairie Falcons performing their acrobatic flights along the Ekalaka Hills rim.

As mentioned in our last few posts, we began our trip needing to bird seven Montana counties to totally fill in our Montana eBird map. In the past week we had knocked off Daniels, Prairie, Wibaux, Fallon, and Carter Counties (see our last post, “Adventures in Ekalaka”). Today we faced the final two: Powder and Treasure Counties. The first proved easy. Driving twenty or so miles south of the Ekalaka Hills, we cut SW along a well-maintained dirt road to Hwy 212 and then turned NW. Eight miles later, we crossed into Powder River County, and immediately began picking up Mourning Doves, Eastern and Western Kingbirds, meadowlarks, and other “roadside attractions.” To meet our ten-species minimum, however, we stopped at a small riverside fishing access in Broadus. There, we collected 13 species including Lark Sparrows, Lazuli Buntings, Yellow Warblers, and yet another Red-headed Woodpecker! Continuing on toward Miles City, we left Powder River County with a total of 21 species. Not bad for just passing through!

By the time we reached Miles City, our trip had taken us almost 2,000 miles, and I guess a collective fatigue had caught up with us. “Do you mind if we just find a coffee shop and chill out for a while?” I asked Braden. He was totally agreeable, so we spent an hour or so relaxing in a City Brew I’d frequented while teaching a writing workshop there several years before. It was just what we both needed. More important, it prepared us for our last lifetime Montana county!

We did it! Our very last county we birded in Montana. And it only took us 11 years!

To reach Treasure County, we tooled down I-94 to the town of Forsyth, and then paralleled the Yellowstone River, driving west. About fifteen minutes later, we reached a sign marking the county line! We, of course, got out to immortalize the moment with our phone cameras, but even posing next to the sign we could hear and see Red-winged Blackbirds, a Western Meadowlark, and four or five other birds. We continued driving until we encountered a likely dirt road leading off to the north. We intended to try to reach the Yellowstone River, but found a promising thicket right before the road crossed some railroad tracks. “Let’s stop here,” I said.

Immediately, we were rewarded with a Lazuli Bunting, American Goldfinch, Yellow Warbler, Yellow-breasted Chat and other birds. The stars? A pair of American Redstarts that landed right in front of us, posing beautifully. Unlike with the Plumbeous Vireo (see our last post), I was prepared this time and took what may be my best American Redstart photos ever! Braden and I delighted in watching these birds for more than a minute before they flitted off into the thicket. But one more Treasure County surprise lay in wait.

One of our best looks ever at American Redstarts, this warbler was our reward for completing our mission to bird every Montana county!

Driving a bit farther, looking for a place to turn around, we headed left down a dirt road. “Uh, this looks like a driveway to that farm over there,” I said, but right then we both saw it—yet another Red-headed Woodpecker! (See our last post.)

I, of course, climbed out to try to get a decent photo since none of the other RHWOs had cooperated on the trip. This one, fortunately, did—more or less—peaking out behind a telephone pole. It was a great way not only to wrap up our Treasure County list (21 species total), but to punctuate the completion of our goal of birding every county in the vastness of Montana.

This Red-headed Woodpecker both surprised and delighted us when we pulled over to pad our Treasure County list—our last Montana county to fill in our eBird map!

Our Eastern Montana adventure was far from over. It would take us on a wonderful adventure to a private ranch, back to perhaps my favorite Montana place to bird (see our post Bear Canyon—Montana’s “Tropical Birding” Paradise), and above ten thousand feet to witness the enchanting lives of Black Rosy-finches. Rather than blog about these last adventures, though, I’ve decided to write a book, so you’ll just have to be patient. Braden and I hope that you’ve enjoyed these posts, however, and rest assured, we have enjoyed sharing them with you. Please be sure to share, and if you’d like to support FatherSonBirding, consider purchasing new copies of some of Sneed’s books. Speaking of that, his long-awaited new adult book, Birding for Boomers, is now available for pre-order. Don’t be shy. Click on the cover below now!

Trip Stats:

Total Species Observed: 203 (from a goal of 185)

Total eBird checklists: 209

New Montana Life Birds: 5 + 1 (Broad-tailed Hummingbird, Broad-winged Hawk, Least Tern, Eastern Bluebird, Black Rosy-Finch plus—for Braden—Piping Plover)

Miles Driven: 2,482

Our eBird Trip Report: https://ebird.org/tripreport/246744

More than a decade in the making (sort of), my newest adult book, BIRDING FOR BOOMERS, will be available on September 1st—but you can order it now by clicking on the cover above!

Eastern Odyssey 2024: Return to Westby

Our fourth post about our epic 2024 eastern Montana expedition takes us to the birding mecca of Westby. Over the years, Westby has grown an outsized reputation in the imaginations of Montana birders. To find out why, read on—and don’t forget to check out Sneed’s newest picture book, Like No Other—Earth’s Coolest One-of-a-Kind Creatures by clicking on the image to the right!

After, to be honest, a pretty disappointing time in Plentywood (see last our last post), Braden and I continued our Eastern Montana Odyssey 2024 by driving twenty-six miles to a place that has obtained almost mythical status among Montana birders: Westby. Westby sits in the very northeastern corner of the state and has long been known as a place where eastern songbirds clip Montana on their way to northern breeding grounds. Some fool cut down some of the best bird habitat there a few years ago, before Braden and I ever visited, but birders still discover rarities such as Mourning Warblers, Black-throated Green Warblers, and Rose-breasted Grosbeaks every year. The bad news? Braden and I were about two weeks late to have a serious shot at anything like that. The good news? We still had a great chance to see migrating shorebirds.

Westby literally straddles the North Dakota border, making it a go-to destination for birders hoping to snag rare migrants for their Montana life lists.

We arrived early and decided not even to waste time looking for songbirds right away. Instead, we immediately drove north out of town toward a series of pothole lakes well known for shorebirds. Changes in water levels can be shocking out here year to year, and I quickly saw with dismay that one pond that had brimmed with water during my visit with my pal Scott Callow last year had gone bone dry. Fortunately, another pond with just a brief window of visibility did have water. “Shorebirds!” I shouted. We broke out the spotting scope and did our best to ID what was out there. Sanderlings could be made out by their distinct dark red heads and boldly black legs and bills. More exciting, we were able to ID Semipalmated Sandpipers and a species we hadn’t seen in Montana for four years, White-rumped Sandpipers.

This is about as close as we got to a White-rumped Sandpiper, but you can see a distinctive ID feature—the dark spots stretching down its side under the wings. Sanderlings are feeding behind it.

As we continued to explore, we got better looks at all of these birds in various places, along with Wilson’s Phalaropes, Willets, and Marbled Godwits. One bird high on our list was Nelson’s Sparrow, and at a little marshy area right next to the road, Braden was able to hear one, though my crummy hearing once again thwarted me.

A Marbled Godwit checked us out as we were scoping other shorebirds.

We continued to explore the rest of the day, both driving north and south of town and even making a foray across the border into North Dakota, where we picked up a respectable 23 species in a couple of miles. A wonderful development in Westby is a new AirBnB about fifty yards from the border and I had reserved it for two nights. That evening, I took a stroll through town to see what could be seen. No rare warblers, but I did have a lovely visit with a Brown Thrasher and gobs of American Goldfinches feeding on spilled grain next to the grain elevators looming over the north end of town. When I returned, a Say’s Phoebe was sitting on our house!

Thanks to our rented house, we hit the streets of Westby early the next morning. Again, no rare songbirds, but we did see a couple of Swainson’s Thrushes, along with Orchard Orioles and Purple Martins as part of our 22-bird list. Once again, our best surprises popped up as we explored surrounding areas. Venturing north we got great, close looks at the shorebirds we’d seen before, with a soundtrack of Wilson’s Snipe and Soras—one right next to the car—filling the air. Braden identified a Ferruginous Hawk flying overhead and we heard two Baird’s Sparrows and even a Sprague’s Pipit! Braden picked up at least four Nelson’s Sparrows and one popped up right next to our car, giving us our best look ever. Range maps don’t even show that Nelson’s reach into Montana, so this is a great place for birders to pick them up for their Montana life lists!

With few people on the roads, this Wilson’s Snipe took time to check out what we were up to.

Still, the “catch” of the morning happened as we were skirting Round Lake. Ever since arriving, we had kept our eyes sharp for one particular shorebird. This morning as I drove, Braden suddenly yelled, “Stop!” We quickly got our eyes on it and then set up our spotting scope. It was none other than a Piping Plover! I had seen my Montana lifer PIPL last year with my buddy Scott, but this was Braden’s Montana lifer. Even better, there were two—one stalking another with obviously amorous intentions.

I think that Piping Plover on the left should be looking over its shoulder, don’t you?

North America has three distinct breeding populations of Piping Plovers: one in the Northeast, one in and around the Great Lakes, and one on the northern Great Plains. The world total population may have dropped to as low as 3,000 pairs, but the Great Lakes and Northeast populations have apparently been making a comeback. Montana, is home to a breeding population of perhaps 1-200 pairs of these delightful birds, but the outlook for the northern plains population may not be as rosy as it is for the Northeastern population. Frequent drought (exacerbated by climate change), poor water management practices, pesticides, and an increase of predators make its future dicey. Still, this near-threatened bird is hanging on and our fingers are crossed that some better management practices will also help it increase.

We got an amazing number of great Bobolink photo opportunities on the trip, including this one south of Westby.
This Baird’s Sparrow popped up on the fence while we were scoping a brand new lake south of town.

In the trip’s spirit of birding new places, we decided to head down a new road south of town. We had low expectations, but soon encountered a lake with lush green grasses surrounding it. We got out to scope the lake and discovered at least 250 Sanderlings out on a sand bar. It is while we were scoping that we got our biggest surprises, however. Grassland birds just kept popping up on the barbed wire fence to check us out or perch on plants very close to us. During the next forty or fifty minutes, we got incredible looks at Bobolinks, Baird’s Sparrows, Chestnut-collared Longspurs, Grasshopper Sparrows, Clay-colored Sparrows, Horned Larks, and of course, Savannah and Vesper Sparrows. Every time we looked up, there was another great bird not fifty feet away. It truly was one of the coolest things we’ve ever experienced—and was a great reminder to keep taking the road not birded!

It’s become a tradition to visit this old homestead every time we trek to Westby. Each visit, the old place loses a bit of ground. Soon it will be part of the prairie earth.