Tag Archives: Seabirds

Wedding Birding in Washington State, Part I

Braden and I write FatherSonBirding in the hopes of sharing the wonders of birds and birding, and the urgency to protect them. We do not accept advertising or donations, but if you’d like to support our work, please consider buying *NEW* copies of some of Sneed’s books—First-Time Japan, for instance, or my forthcoming picture book for younger readers, Like No Other: Earth’s Coolest One-of-a-Kind Creatures, available for pre-order now. We appreciate your interest and hope you will keep reading!

If you’ve followed our adventures for a while, you probably realize that Braden and I are opportunistic birders. Sure, we take occasional trips solely for the purpose of birding, but more often we exploit other travel opportunities in the pursuit of our birding passions. This piggy-backing not only reduces our carbon footprints relative to taking dedicated birding trips, it provides cheaper ways to bird places we never would have imagined. Last weekend, for instance, Braden was invited by the nonprofit group Defenders of Wildlife to Washington, D.C., to speak with Maine’s Congressional delegation about the importance of safeguarding and improving the Endangered Species Act—one of the most important pieces of conservation legislation ever enacted in this country. While there, he birded the National Mall, the botanical gardens, and several other places. As Braden winged his way back to Missoula, Amy and I headed to the “other Washington,” Washington State.

**Amy and I enjoying the Edmonds waterfront before the big wedding event.** **You may see some clues that I was also looking hard for seabirds!**

We flew to Washington to attend the wedding of the youngest daughter of some of our dearest friends, the Isaacsons, and as we were planning the trip, I have to admit that birding didn’t enter my mind. Shocking, huh? As the date approached, however, I realized I might be able to sneak in a couple of birding outings. Then, as I remembered Amy’s penchant for sleeping in and realized how busy our friends would be preparing for the wedding, I recognized that I might be able to sneak in more than one or two birding sessions; I might be able to hit quite a few different places! I set several goals for myself:

* Bird new places I’d never birded before.

* Find as many seabirds and shorebirds as possible.

* Pick up some songbird targets I rarely got to see.

* Avoid getting killed in Seattle’s traffic.

**Although short of waterfowl and shorebirds, Washington Park Arboretum offered a nice urban birding location to see a variety of songbirds including this Spotted Towhee.**

We spent our first night in Seattle, and the next morning I woke at 5:30 and made my way to the Washington Park Arboretum, which seemed to have habitat for both songbirds and waterfowl. Here, I made a disappointing discovery—waterfowl and shorebirds had pretty much fled coastal Washington for breeding areas farther north. Bummer, right? I mean, I kind of suspected as much since many of these birds had already passed through or arrived in Montana, but I guess I was hoping to run into a few. On the plus side, I found songbirds aplenty and enjoyed seeing my first Western Tanagers of the year and hearing my first Western Flycatcher—which led to the observation that migrating songbirds probably reach Washington a week or two ahead of Montana.

**I’m a sucker for Wilson’s Warblers, which can be hard to find in Montana, and our wedding trip offered several good looks at them.**

After collecting Amy and checking out of our hotel, we decided to explore Edmonds, twenty minutes away. Edmonds is a cute little town where the ferry to Kingston departs, but we mostly wanted to poke around looking for coffee shops, bookstores, and other items of interest—including birds. Alas, as we walked along the waterfront area, the waters of Puget Sound looked disappointingly empty. I spotted a few Pelagic Cormorants and hybrid Glaucous-winged X Western gulls, but none of the big rafts of scoters and pelagic species I had hoped for. Nonetheless, I stood on a little rocky viewpoint and carefully scoured the choppy seas with binoculars, wishing I had a proper spotting scope. Suddenly, I saw a black bird with a white head patch and orange-and-white bill about a quarter mile offshore. Surf Scoter! my brain shouted, but I immediately lost it in the chop. As I tried to “reacquire” my target, however, I saw a black bird that looked much different. This one had no colored bill that I could see, but did have a prominent white patch on its flanks. My heart soared as I recognized one of the birds I had most hoped to encounter on the trip: Pigeon Guillemot! Hooray! Ten minutes later, I got a bonus PIGU on the other side of the ferry dock—a perfect reward for my perseverance.

Without a spotting scope, I had to work hard to locate these two dark birds offshore. Can you identify them? The upper-right bird is a Surf Scoter (at the moment hiding its head), and the lower left bird is one of my favorite pelagic species, a Pigeon Guillemot.

**Not the best photo, but it does show the Pigeon Guillemot’s distinctive white wing patch as this bird prepares to take off.**

The wedding was to be held up near Burlington, Washington, and on the drive up I convinced Amy to stop at another place I had driven by many times but never visited. I wasn’t even sure what it was called, but at various times of year I had seen dozens of ducks spread out across big ponds there. A little research revealed that it was Spencer Island, site of both sewage treatment settling ponds and some restored natural wetland areas. Thank god for Google Maps, because it required quite a convoluted route to reach it off of the freeway.

**Spencer Island was a challenge to get to, but undoubtedly offers some incredible “water birding” during winter and migration seasons. During our visit, it was the songbirds that put on a show.**

Alas, here as elsewhere, most of the water birds had fled, but a short walk did net us my best look ever at Marsh Wrens, along with glimpses of Anna’s Hummingbirds, which are rare in Montana. However, I encountered my biggest score as we were driving out. I had the window rolled down, when I heard a distinctive “kiddick-kiddick!” from the marsh to our left. In previous years, I doubt I would have even noted it, but one of the great things about birding is that the longer you live, the more experience you acquire, and this time, I knew what it was: a Virginia Rail! My third one of the year already, which is quite astonishing given that Braden have spent entire years never seeing or hearing one at all.

**Spencer Island offered only a few waterfowl, but did provide my best-ever Marsh Wren experience along with the year’s third Virginia Rail.**

From Spencer Island, my early day was catching up with me, so Amy and I headed straight to our hotel in Burlington for a pleasant afternoon eating Mexican food, reading, and enjoying being on holiday. The wedding was the next day and we looked forward to that. Unbeknownst to moi, however, the trip’s best birding also lay ahead . . .

Stay tuned for Part II on Friday!

Birding Japan: Kamakura by the Sea

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Since we published them, our birding posts about Japan have been read in more than a dozen countries. If you are planning your own trip to Japan, you’re in luck! Sneed’s new book, FIRST-TIME JAPAN: A STEP-BY-STEP GUIDE FOR THE INDEPENDENT TRAVELER, tells you everything you need to know about how to plan your trip to this remarkable, yet sometimes intimidating, country. Order now by clicking here.

Welcome to the second installment of my birding reports from Japan. To read the first report, click here, and of course feel free to share these reports with others—and add your own experiences in the comments section. Thanks for reading!

As mentioned in my last post, one of my goals in birding Japan was to reach 1,000 bird species for my life list. I arrived in the country needing 31 species to hit that mark, but picked up only 13 new lifers during my daughter’s and my first three days in Tokyo. A day trip by bullet train, or shinkansen, to the northern town of Sendai added Japanese Pygmy Woodpecker and Varied Tit to my total, but I felt like the next stop on our itinerary, the seaside town of Kamakura, would have to perform better if I were to keep on pace.

Kamakura lies only about an hour by train from Tokyo and has earned a reputation as a weekend getaway and favorite place for surfing and other water sports. Anticipating that we might need a break after five days in the Big City, I had rented us a tiny apartment only two blocks from the beach, and as soon as we stepped off the train, the area enchanted us. The main train station sits adjacent to a vibrant street full of food and crafts shops, but to reach our lodging we had to hop on the cutest little train you can imagine, ride a few stops, and then roll our luggage a half a kilometer through a quirky little beach town that easily could have been on the Oregon Coast or in Southern California. While trying to find our accommodations, we crossed a little bridge over a canal when a scintillating blue flash caught my eye, followed by another. I didn’t get a great look, but knew immediately what they were—Common Kingfishers, one of my favorite birds and, as it turned out, the only time I got to see them on the trip.

The Island of Sodor? No, but the delightful Enoshima Electric Railway made us wonder!

We arrived at our apartment too early to check in so decided to sit in a children’s playground for a few minutes to rest and recover from our hectic travel morning. I felt eager to get out and find some birds, but there in the playground I didn’t have to. Instead, the birds came to me. First, a dove landed on a phone wire only a few yards away. My adrenaline surging, I whipped out my binoculars and sure enough, it was a lifer I had been hoping for: Oriental Turtle-Dove! Then, I espied a bluish bird flitting around on a nearby rooftop. Swallow or flycatcher? I thought to myself. Instead, I was surprised to identify another lifer I had desperately been wanting to see—a Blue Rock-Thrush. Right there in the playground, we were also joined by a Warbling White-eye and either Japanese or Varied Tits, though I didn’t get a great look at the latter.

**My lifer Oriental Turtle-Dove landed next to our lodging in Kamakura, and we were fortunate to also see them on Enoshima Island and other locations on our trip.**

Leaving our bags, Tessa and I walked down to the beach. Perhaps a hundred surfers crowded the two- to three-foot waves, and Tessa and I saw Carrion Crows and Black Kites for the first time on the trip, both species Braden and I had seen in Israel right before the pandemic.

I’m not sure what this Carrion Crow has in mind, but Tessa and I had great fun watching it and its colleagues on Kamakura’s beach.

Since the forecast called for a rainy weekend, we tore ourselves away from the beach and hiked a mile or so to Kamakura’s most famous attraction, the Great Buddha. This forty-foot-high bronze sculpture was completed around the year 1253, and truly impressed both of us. When we arrived, a rock pigeon perched comfortably atop the Buddha’s head, a fitting signal that the Buddha welcomed both of us! After taking the mandatory photos, we sat on a stone wall and chilled in the statue’s peaceful presence before grabbing an early dinner at a café and then checking into our residence.

**The Great Buddha, or Daibutsu, of Kamakura is apparently the second largest Buddha in Japan and harkens back to about 1252.**

We had plans to take a genuine forest hike in Kamakura, but unfortunately the weather forecast turned out to be all too true. Saturday, umbrellas in hand, we braved the Kamakura food street next to the station, but were forced back home by chilling wetness—though not without nabbing a box of fresh mini-donuts! Sunday, we took the cute little train down the coast to Enoshima, famous for its picturesque island just offshore. A short causeway connected the island to the mainland, and on the way across I spotted the trip’s first Eurasian Wigeons, a species Braden and I are lucky to see once a year in Montana. I was also surprised to find Herring Gulls sitting atop light posts.

A Herring Gull? In Japan? Apparently, the birds know a lot more about their distributions than I do.

Following a beautiful paved winding path up the island’s mountainous terrain, we encountered birds that were now becoming familiar to both of us including Brown-eared Bulbuls, White Wagtails, White-cheeked Starlings, Eurasian Tree Sparrows, and a trio of Oriental Turtle-Doves. The highlight of the day, however, turned out to be a small, gorgeous red shrine tucked away in the trees near the summit. It apparently is one of three shrines on the island collectively known as Enoshima Shrine, and it was built to worship the deities of fishing and sea transport. We weren’t sure what to do there, so I quickly texted Ryosuke, a Japanese foreign-exchange student who happens to be spending the year at Tessa’s high school and who had been tutoring me in Japanese. He quickly texted back instructions, and we paid our respects before heading back down the mountain. Thank you Ryosuke!

Don’t look into his eyes. Just move on slowly. Nothing to see here.

Lifer count for the weekend? A mere two species, making our next destination, Kyoto, essential for my evil plans to reach my life list millennium mark.

My Enoshima eBird Checklist.

Going For Gulls (Part 1)

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Just returned from a fun speaking road trip, where I got to share Braden’s and my birding adventures with fellow birders at Coeur d’Alene Audubon, the Puget Sound Bird Fest, Edmonds Bookshop, and Eagle Harbor Book Co. Thank you for the great turnouts, everyone! I, of course, also hoped to get in some good birding on the trip, but weather—or perhaps bad birding karma—conspired against me. The one bright spot? Gulls!

**This Mew Gull at The Nature Conservancy’s Foulweather Bluff Preserve was a real surprise—and the first Mew Gull Braden or I had seen on the ground.**

I don’t know about you, but I find gulls vexing. I do not even try to ID immature gulls, but the adults also offer enough variation to render me apoplectic. My first birding stop was Potholes State Park, about thirty miles south of Moses Lake, Washington. I arrived at a crummy time of day, but enjoyed seeing dozens of migrating Yellow-rumped Warblers and few White-crowned Sparrows. Looking out at the reservoir, however, I noticed a black-headed gull in the distance. I tramped toward it, figuring it had to be a Bonaparte’s or Franklin’s Gull. I mean this far inland what else could it be? The problem was the bird’s weird bill, which should have been either red or black. Instead, this bill was black with a yellow tip. “Geez,” I thought. “Maybe it’s turning red.” I called Braden to ask his opinion, but he was stuck in class back in Missoula, so I snapped a few photos and moved on.

What the . . . ? A gull with a black head and half-yellow bill was about the last thing I expected to see in the interior of Washington State. I guessed it was a weird Bonaparte’s Gull—and I was wrong. Read below for the shocking conclusion!

The next day in Seattle, my friends Steve and Carol and I took the ferry to Kingston and drove to Point No Point lighthouse, which had shown a lot of great water bird activity in the past few days. Alas, except for a few Rhinocerous Auklets, very little moved on the beach or offshore so I again turned my attention to gulls. I saw what looked like a Glaucous-winged Gull except that its tail was too dark, so I decided it must be a Herring Gull, as its wings were too light for a Western. Later, however, I ran into a couple of different birders who told me that Puget Sound was awash in hybrid gulls, mostly Glaucous-winged x Herring Gull or Glaucous-winged x Western. I had heard of hybrid gulls before, but didn’t realize they were so abundant and decided the one I had looked at must be a Glaucous-winged x Herring.

“Well-behaved” gulls that follow ID rules are difficult enough to identify. Unfortunately, many gulls make birders’ lives more difficult by hybridizing! Is this a Glaucous-winged x Herring Gull hybrid or a Glaucous-winged x Western Gull hybrid? The lighter wings and tail push me toward the former, but if you disagree, please weigh in!

A couple of mornings later, at the Puget Sound Birding Fest in Edmonds, my dismal birding luck continued—except for the gulls! Along the waterfront, I found 400 Heermann’s Gulls—probably Braden’s and my favorite gulls. I also found my first definite California Gull of the trip and settled in to give the hybrids more study. In a later post, I will try to explain the mental flow-chart I use for gulls, but suffice to say, it was a most enjoyable morning spent sharpening my gull skills and knowledge.

**Heermann’s Gulls are not only some of the most beautiful gulls, they are among the easiest to identify. Can you tell why Braden and I love them so much?**

The best discovery awaited me when I returned to Montana, however, and was showing Braden my gull photos. We found that I had taken a photo of a Mew Gull (which I had assumed was a juvenile of another species). Then, I showed him my “mystery” black-headed gull from Potholes State Park. “You saw that?” he exclaimed. “Well, yeah. Do you know what it is?” “Yeah,” he answered, and pulled up photos of a gull that had never even been on my radar—a Sabine’s Gull! This gull breeds in the Arctic tundra and migrates offshore of the Pacific coast. According to Sibley, “migrants rarely appear on inland ponds, lakes or rivers,” and yet here I’d seen one 200 miles from the coast!

Lesson Number 1: Once again, that birds don’t read the guide books. Lesson #2: That I still have a LOT to learn about gulls—but am making progress!

San Diego Seabirds

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Our last day of the San Diego Bird Festival took us away from shore on the mighty birding (and perhaps fishing) vessel New Seaforth. This would be Braden’s and my third California pelagic birding cruise and in many ways it proved the most memorable. Almost immediately upon leaving the safety of Mission Bay, we began seeing dozens of Black-vented Shearwaters heading north and, of course, we followed them. They led us to a massive fish feast, where from 5-10,000 shearwaters gorged themselves on acres of anchovies. At least a thousand gulls, countless cormorants, and sea lions and common dolphins joined the fray.

Every time a shearwater surfaced stuffed with anchovies, gulls mobbed it until it regurgitated part of its catch. Note the shearwater on the far right fleeing the gang ‘o gulls!

After enjoying this spectacle for half an hour, we turned south and angled farther out to sea. Braden said, “I have three priorities today: Scripps’s Murrelets, Pomarine Jaegers, and Brown Boobies.” My own priority was simpler: I really wanted to see a Brown Booby—or any booby for that matter. It wasn’t long before our target species began showing up.

Scripps’s Murrelets were only described for science in 1859 and were heading toward extinction before efforts to rid their nesting islands of invasive rats and cats.

Undoubtedly the stars of the day were the Scripps’s Murrelets. These birds nest only in the Santa Barbara Channel Islands and on Mexico’s Coronado Islands, which loomed in the distance. The murrelets lay gigantic eggs compared to their body sizes—a full twenty percent of an adult’s weight. This advanced “in egg” development is no accident. Only two days after hatching, the chicks sneak away to the ocean to be raised by their parents almost entirely at sea. As we steamed south, we saw more and more of these adorable alcids, usually floating in pairs.

The boat “chummed” with popcorn, and that kept the gulls busy behind the boat, but also attracted brief visits from Braden’s second target, Pomarine Jaegers. Then Paul Lehman, our leader for the day, shouted over the PA, “Brown Booby at 12:00 o’clock, coming straight toward the boat!”

Braden and I had longed to see a booby in American waters since visiting the Galapagos in 2016.

I hurried to the rail in time to see the elegant “gannet shape” of the booby as it sped fifty yards off the port side. The bird even did a quick circuit around the stern, giving us all good looks at its handsome chocolate-covered head and back before speeding away again.

“Yes!” I whispered to myself.

The day wasn’t without its challenges. The steady 3-foot swell took a toll on Braden, forcing him below deck for part of the journey. Still, he agreed that the birds were worth the queasiness and, as if to drive home the point, a pod of common dolphins escorted us part of the way back to the mainland.

Hasta la vista, San Diego—until the next time!

Dolphins are a highlight of any pelagic birding adventure—even if they *are* mammals!

Icelandic Seabird Storm

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Braden here again for my second Iceland post.

Saturday, July 14^th, 2018. 9:00 a.m.

I have just finished breakfast and arrived on the bridge of the National Geographic Explorer. We are continuing our circumnavigation of Iceland, and this is our first day with some free time at sea. I have chosen to spend that time on the bridge, searching for marine mammals and possibly life birds. There are two seabirds in specific I am hoping for: Great Skua and Northern Gannet. Neither are particularly rare, but I have yet to see them.

Great Skuas, the “pirates of the seas”, will chase down other birds and steal their food. (Photo by Braden Collard)

James (Jamie) Coleman, one of the ship’s naturalists and leading bird experts, is also on the bridge, and he knows my quest. “You seen a Skua yet?” he asks me. “They’re everywhere this morning.”

“No, I’ve mostly been focusing on sleeping and eating.”

“Ah. I guess that’s also important. Anyways, keep your eyes open. We’ve also seen some White-beaked Dolphins.”

I settle into a chair, and, seeing no activity in or over the water, begin reading a large guide book titled Marine Mammals of the World.

“Is that the one by Bob Pitman?” Jamie asks.

I nod.

“He’s seen every marine mammal in the world but two, I think.”

“Has he seen a Vaquita?” I ask, knowing that the endangered porpoise’s last stand was going down in the Gulf of California.

“Yeah—he’s working with the Mexican government right now to save them.”

“Cool!”

“Oh, I’ve got a skua!” Jamie suddenly exclaims. “Flying right in front of the bow!”

I quickly raise my binoculars to see a large, dark bird with silver wing patches flying directly in front of the ship, its wingbeats heavy.

Approximately one second later, the Explorer’s captain, Aaron Woods, shouts, “Gannet! Even with the horizon—two o’clock and moving left!”

I again raise my binoculars level to the horizon. Far off, a bird that appears to be the opposite of a skua catches my eye. Its feathers are a clean white, with black tips on the wings, and its outline is sleek.

Like their southern cousins the boobies, gannets will perform spectacular vertical plunge-dives while hunting. (Photo by Braden Collard)

“How’s that?” Jamie asks, “Two lifers in the same two seconds!”

I grin. “Awesome!”

During the next couple of days, as we continue back towards Reykjavik, seabird numbers pick up. On my last full day on the ship, it all culminates in one big seabird showdown.

We have just left the island of Heimaey, the only inhabited island of the Westmann Archipelago, and the Explorer is headed for Surtsey, the new island to the south. I am on the bridge again, as is Jamie, talking about what else has been spotted. Suddenly, he looks up and spies a large, white cloud in the distance.

“Feeding frenzy!”

As our ship draws closer, I see large, straight dorsal fins rising from the water. Killer Whales!

Killer Whales, or Orcas, are actually dolphins–the largest in the world!

There are at least 30 Killer Whales, or orcas, on all sides of the boat now, feeding on whatever huge school of fish swarms below the waves. The whales aren’t the only ones feasting. A tornado of gannets has engulfed us, following the whales. At certain points, squadrons of them leave the storm to plunge-dive, torpedoing straight into the water.

Northern Fulmars, the common tubenoses here, are also in large numbers, and have attracted their rarer cousins, Manx and Sooty Shearwaters! These just remind me of how many miles seabirds have under their wings—the Manx’s have probably bred on the coast of Britain, while the Sooties could have travelled from as far as New Zealand!

Northern Fulmars are circumpolar–meaning they live all around the Arctic Ocean. (Photo by Braden Collard)