Tag Archives: Raptors

Celebrating Hummingbirds and More in Texas

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Believe it or not, I just returned from my first actual birding festival in two years—and it was worth the wait! I was invited to speak at the 33rd annual HummerBird Celebration in Rockport-Fulton, Texas last year when, for covid—not corvid—reasons, organizers were forced to cancel the event. Even as I flew down this year, however, I had little idea what the celebration would be like. I was in for a treat.

One advantage of having mainly one kind of hummingbird in a region is that it greatly simplifies the almost impossible task of distinguishing female Ruby-throated from female Black-chinned hummingbirds!

The festival is organized by dedicated staff and volunteers at the Rockport-Fulton Chamber of Commerce and the event, as its name suggests, celebrates hummingbirds. “Wait a minute,” some of you may be asking, “aren’t there only three or four species of hummingbirds in eastern Texas in the fall?” Correct. But the event doesn’t focus only on diversity. It celebrates raw numbers, mainly of one species: Ruby-throated Hummingbirds. The entire community joins in, and one of the coolest things about HummerBird is the self-guided tour of houses full of feeders and backyard habitats where participants are encouraged to feast their eyes on a plethora of Ruby-throateds. The festival, though, offers much more.

Our hayride around Fennessey Ranch was definitely one of the highlights of my time at HummerBird!

One of my duties as a speaker was to co-lead a four-hour field trip of 40 birders out to Fennessey Ranch, a working ranch that also focuses on conservation and research. After struggling a bit to find the place, we split into two groups and began “hay rides” around the property, looking for as many birds as we could find. Coming from Montana, I discovered that almost every species was a Year Bird for me, but Braden has coached me well over the years, and together with my co-leader, ranch naturalist Sally Crofutt, we identified almost everything we heard and saw. They included some real surprises, including my Lifer Broad-winged Hawk, migrating Anhingas (I didn’t even realize they migrated!), and my find of the day—only my second-ever Blue Grosbeak.

Green Jay was our Fennessey group’s Most Wanted Bird, and this fellow obligingly complied with our wishes!

But the celebration offered much, much more, including:

  • other field trips to Welder Wildlife Refuge and boat trips up to Aransas NWR
  • a fabulous Hummer Mall packed with all kinds of bird-related vendors and demonstrations
  • a host of interesting speakers
  • great birding all along the area’s waterfront
One great thing about HummerBird is that terrific birding surrounded us. I found this cooperative Crested Caracara—along with numerous other species—along the shore just down from my hotel.

Speaking of speakers, I spoke to two enthusiastic audiences about Braden’s and my 2016 Big Year and other adventures, and before one of my talks I had the pleasure of listening to Dawn Hewitt, editor of Bird Watcher’s Digest. She gave wonderful hints on learning bird calls—something I would use almost immediately. I was surprised how well-attended the entire celebration turned out to be, and I headed back north feeling full of positive bird vibes as I prepared to spend a couple of days birding High Island and the Bolivar Peninsula—the subject of my next post(s)!

Birding by 5-Ton Truck: a 100-bird Quest

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Having missed out on Braden’s epic Glacier birding day because of, you won’t believe this, a job, I have struggled for ways to console myself. Fortunately, birding opportunities are dove-tailing nicely with my new temporary career: delivering fire-fighting equipment by truck to various fire camps around Montana and Idaho. As you’ve probably noticed, it is shaping up to be an unprecedented fire season with record, early heat and little rain in sight. Just another reason that we need to make climate change our number one priority as a species (see Saving Birds. It’s Time.).

On the personal front, however, this radical summer has provided me with an interesting, useful part-time job driving for the Forest Service, and I have to say, I’ve been impressed with their entire operation. As I began my job, though, I asked myself, “How many birds could I see just driving around Montana and Idaho through the fire season?” I decided to set a goal of 100 species for myself—a number that seemed optimistic for this time of year, especially since I would have few opportunities to venture off roads into wildlife refuges and other birding hotspots. Below is my interim report, but first I should lay out the ground rules that I have set for myself, and they are simple: every bird can be counted from the moment I leave for work until I get back. I can’t count birds at my house or on my street, but everything else is game. So how goes the quest?

Who knew I’d be drivin’ truck at my age, but as in most of my life, trying new things has led to new birding—and writing—opportunities!

Well, so far I have driven approximately 3,000 miles and seen 59 species of birds, or about one new species every 51 miles—far more than I expected at this point. Let’s start with raptors. These are birds I expected to do well with because, duh, they are big and easy to see, and they sit on telephone poles. Strangely, I have seen only one Bald Eagle since I began and no Goldens, but have been delighted with Red-tailed Hawks, Swainson’s Hawks, Northern Harriers, Osprey, and a Prairie Falcon. My best raptor? A Ferruginous Hawk that I passed three separate times on my way to Ennis before I could positively ID it at 70 mph!

I had to drive by it three separate days before I could ID a Ferruginous Hawk near Ennis (actual bird not shown), but it was a major score in my “birding by truck” goals to find one of these.

Songbirds promised to be the most difficult category because they are almost impossible to ID at high speed—and often at low speed! Still, I’ve lucked out with birds such as American Redstart and Evening Grosbeak around the ranger station in Seeley Lake, and good looks at Western Tanagers, catbirds, and other species along river roads. While my truck was being emptied down at the Goose Fire south of Ennis, I walked over to “pish” (make a fake bird sound, not doing, well, you know) some bushes and was flabbergasted to see a Lincoln’s Sparrow pop up in front of me—maybe my favorite “truck bird” so far.

Without a doubt my favorite sparrow, Lincoln’s Sparrow made my “birding by truck” list in surprising fashion while I was delivering a load to the Goose Fire crew south of Ennis. (Again, actual bird not shown—it’s hard to get bird photos while working another job!)

On my way back from the Dixie Fire camp in Idaho, I found myself at dusk crossing over Lolo Pass and needed a break, so I pulled into the visitor’s center to see if I could hear a Flammulated Owl. No luck, but White-crowned Sparrows and Swainson’s Thrushes called in the twilight, and suddenly I heard a deep sub-woofer sound. “My god,” I thought. “That’s a Ruffed Grouse!” It wasn’t. Later, after consulting with Braden, I realized I’d heard, appropriately for twilight, a Dusky Grouse. I hadn’t even known they made a similar deep-bass call. It pays to have a well-educated son!

Hearing a Dusky Grouse at, well, dusk at Lolo Pass taught me an important new bird call—and made an unlikely addition to my “truck list.”

The question remains: will I make it to 100? It’s going to take some doing, and I especially need to get into some large groups of waterfowl or migrating shorebirds or songbirds, but I remain hopefully optimistic. Stay tuned for the next installment! And yes, I would sacrifice my goal for a good, soaking rain!

Soccer Ball Birding: Birding Therapy Week Day Three

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Day 3 of Birding Week Therapy proved an easy task thanks to my daughter’s regular Wednesday night soccer practice out at Fort Missoula—a location that happens to sit next to what may be Missoula’s best birding location, affectionately known as “the gravel quarry.” Over the past years, Braden and I have birded the quarry dozens of times and counted about 130 different species there, including a number of rarities such as Long-tailed Duck, Pacific Loon, and Eurasian Wigeon that swing by during spring and fall migrations. This time of year, I was especially keen on finding some cool sparrows, which can also drop in for a week or two at a time. I would have preferred a morning visit, but birders can’t always be choosers, so after dropping my daughter off, our dog Lola and I set off to see what we could find.

The late-season Merlin was a real treat, especially watching it in action hunting another bird!

Few ducks graced the pond and they were too far away to ID without a scope, so we hurried on to the river to look for sparrows. Alas, the action proved pretty slow, but as I was peering into one of my favorite sparrow spots, two larger birds dived into a patch of tansy. One flew off again before I could ID it, but the other extricated itself and perched on a nearby tree. Its behavior led me to believe it was a Sharp-tailed Hawk, but on closer inspection I saw that it was a Merlin! And quite late in the year for the location! I took my time studying it since I often have difficulty identifying these in the field.

Cooper’s Hawks are common at the quarry, but I wondered if this was a resident or just passing through.

Minutes later I saw another raptor circling and just assumed it was the Merlin, but no, it proved to be a Cooper’s Hawk! Braden later reminded me that raptor migration was in full swing so both sightings made sense, along with the lone Turkey Vulture I saw in the distance.

I never tire of watching Sandhill Cranes and it seems we’ve been finding them at this location more consistently the past couple of years.

Soon, I heard weird guttural calls that I have come to love—Sandhill Cranes. Three of them caught the gorgeous evening light and I am guessing they breed nearby since they’ve become a common sight out there. Alas, songbirds proved scarce but on our way back to the car, Lola and I finally dissected a White-crowned Sparrow from some brush. I’d had bigger days at the quarry—and better photos, too—but also much worse days. I knew, though, that I’d be returning for Day 6 of Birding Therapy Week—and in the morning!   

Peregrine Possibilities: Birding Therapy Day Two

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So after getting home from my Blue Mountain hike on Monday, I began planning Tuesday’s birding therapy outing to the Missoula Cemetery, a place I have monitored since the pandemic began last year. Almost immediately, however, I received a message from a friend of a friend (FOAF) about a putative Peregrine Falcon pair a few miles from our house. Peregrines are not uncommon in Montana with well over a hundred nesting pairs—a remarkable resurgence considering the DDT disaster that devastated dozens of bird species through the 1960s and 70s. However this possible nest site was one that neither Braden nor I had heard of, so instead of hitting the cemetery Tuesday morning, I convinced Braden to skip first period and go check it out by bike.

Braden and I never tire of seeing Red-naped Sapsuckers, especially in a new location!

It was a perfect morning for a bike ride and we spotted or heard Black-capped and Mountain Chickadees, Red-breasted Nuthatches, and an assortment of other birds—Braden more than I thanks to his Bionic Ears of Youth! We were especially excited to find a nice boggy area with a couple of Red-naped Sapsuckers drumming on snags. Finally, we reached the area the FOAF had described and almost immediately thought that we heard the peregrines calling. We set up “camp” and watched, hoping to catch sight of them. No luck. Even worse, Braden had to leave to get back to school. “Well crap,” I thought. I didn’t want to see them without him, but also knew I might not head back to the spot anytime soon so decided to stay longer.

One of the benefits of hauling a camera with you is to “slow down” birds that are too fast and too far away to easily observe. Peregrine Falcons are a case in point!

I pulled out my phone to play a peregrine recording—not to attract them but to make sure what they sounded like. WHAM! Almost instantaneously a loud answering call hit me from above and I looked up to see the unmistakable shape of a falcon flying against the gray skies. That turned out to be just the opening salvo in an amazing twenty-minute aerial exhibition that the peregrine and his mate put on for me. I watched them chase off another raptor, skim forest treetops, and in a grand finale, copulate on the branch of a tree! Granted, the birds were far away, but I can’t recall a more exciting raptor experience—well, at least since seeing the Gyrfalcon with Braden earlier this year.

I got in touch with the Montana Peregrine Institute to see if they knew about this particular nest and it turns out that the pair was first discovered in 2020 and had apparently successfully fledged three young! My FOAF went even further and single-handedly convinced the Forest Service to delay a controlled burn that was supposed to happen this last week—right in the peregrines’ territory! Hopefully, the burn will go ahead in the fall—and give the birds a wonderful larder of new prey to raise their next batch of chicks.

Even though the birds were far away, it was thrilling to watch them mate—something that will hopefully ensure a new crop of peregrines this year!

Payin’ Raptor Dues, Reapin’ Raptor Rewards

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Gamblers and fishermen are famous for being superstitious. Birders aren’t much better. Sure, we feed ourselves platitudes such as, “The more you get out, the more you’ll see,” but deep down, we know that the birding gods control our fates, and that our success depends on whether we’re deemed worthy. In our last post, I recounted how Braden and I spent six hours and two days looking for a Gyrfalcon near White Sulpher Springs, only to endure the gods’ wrath. Yesterday morning, when we set out on a quest for a Snowy Owl, we wondered if the gods would continue to scorn us, or whether we had proven ourselves humble and dedicated enough to curry their birdly favor.

Northern Harriers and other raptors were abundant wherever we looked. They, unfortunately, were not the birds we set out to see!

We left the house at 6:30 a.m. and by 7:30 were at Ninepipe National Widlife Refuge, where we hoped to score an elusive Year Bird, Short-eared Owl. We drove the dirt roads for more than an hour and saw more than a dozen Red-tailed Hawks, Rough-leggeds, Bald Eagles, Harriers—even a Merlin. No Short-eared Owl. “Ah, well,” I told Braden. “We’ll get ‘em next time.” Inside, though, I was thinking, “Oh, man. Is it going to be that kind of day? Again?”

Well, apparently, it was. Reaching the Snowy Owl neighborhood near Kalispell, we again drove for more than an hour without so much of a glimpse of a white owl. By now, I realized that the BGs must be really pissed at us. We decided to chase some other birds and come back later, however, and did score our first Gray-crowned Rosy-finches in three years at the Kalispell dump—while getting bawled out by the “dump lady” for our efforts. We also found a White-winged Crossbill among a flock of Red Crossbills feeding on some nearby spruce trees. Nice, but not a Snowy Owl.

Mallards are no doubt the most underrated duck, but this flock of five thousand birds made a big impression on Braden and me!

After a lunch at Panera Bread (hey, more chicken in my Napa Almond Chicken Salad Sandwich, please!), including our favorite kitchen sink cookies, we hit an amazing field full of about 5,000 Mallards. Stunning! Then, we returned to the Snowy Owl site, where we encountered several other birders. None of them had had any success, either, but while we were commiserating, a photographer named Dick Walker introduced himself and asked, “Are you the father-son birding team?” We’d never been called that, but I answered “Yes,” and he started talking about the Mallard spot we’d just left. He showed us photos of Lapland Longspurs and, most exciting, a Gyrfalcon he had seen only thirty minutes before!

We tore back to the place, forever hopeful. No longspurs. No falcon. After fifteen minutes, though, a massive group of a thousand Mallards lifted off and seconds later, a sleek, jet-fighter shape zoomed across our field of vision. “It’s the Gyr!” Braden shouted.

Our first Gyr was a darker bird and left no doubt it was master of the skies. We’ll never forget it!

Indeed it was. We quickly lost it in the distance and decided to race over to another road closer to where it disappeared. We got there and jumped out of the car just as the amazing raptor reappeared, obviously enjoying terrifying the thousands of ducks and geese swirling around it. While Braden set up our scope, I tracked the bird with my binoculars. It seemed to toy with a large group of ducks, but its madness had some method as more and more Mallards peeled off until only two remained. As I watched, breathless, the Gyr hit one of them and took it to the ground. “It got a duck!” I shouted.

I was astounded how quickly this Baldie swooped in to steal the Gyr’s kill. It made me wonder how many ducks the falcon has to kill before it actually gets to eat one!

Its victory was temporary. Within thirty seconds, a much larger brown shape swooped in—an immature Bald Eagle. It effortlessly drove the Gyr from its kill, eliciting shouts of outrage from yours truly. We continued watching the amazing creature for another fifteen minutes before it vanished again. Then, after another unsuccessful Snowy Owl circuit, we began the long drive home. As we headed south along Flathead Lake, I thought about BB King, who often talked about paying his dues, and asked myself why we’d seen a Gyrfalcon here, in the last place we’d ever expected. “Maybe our efforts in White Sulphur Springs satisfied the birding gods after all,” I speculated. “Or maybe we just had to pay our birding dues to see the Gyr.” Either way, it had been one of the best birding days Braden and I had ever experienced—even without the Snowy Owl.