Tag Archives: songbirds

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!

Untangling Birdsong with Merlin’s Sound ID

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Braden and I write FatherSonBirding in the hopes of sharing the wonders of birds and birding, and the urgency to protect them. We do not accept advertising or donations, but if you’d like to support our work, please consider buying *NEW* copies of some of Sneed’s books—First-Time Japan, for instance, or my picture book for younger readers, Birds of Every Color. We appreciate your interest and hope you will keep reading!

The birds are back! Well, at least a lot of them. Last weekend, our dog Lola and I hiked our favorite four-mile loop from our house up to a ridge called the Mount Jumbo Saddle and then back down past what has become my favorite “bird thicket” in Missoula. We first began hiking this route when I was training to take Braden’s scouting troop to Philmont Scout Camp in 2019. Honestly, Lola isn’t crazy about the route since she hates loud noises and we often hear guns firing from a range a couple of miles away. I keep making her do it, though, because I’ve discovered that it’s a great way to keep up with the neighborhood bird community, especially in spring. The past couple of years, I’ve tried to do this route on a regular basis, carefully recording new arrivals and learning more about their migration patterns.

The past couple of years, Lola and I have regularly hiked up to Mount Jumbo Saddle and back to check in on which birds are currently in residence. Lola likes the route except for the gunshots she hears from east Missoula!

Songbird migration builds slowly here in Montana. This year in late March, I noted the first Western Meadowlarks, Western Bluebirds, and Spotted Towhees on the route—but four weeks later, April 21, not much had changed. Two weeks after that—yesterday—the dam broke. I set off up the hill hoping to see perhaps the year’s first Vesper Sparrows, but quickly discovered that new arrivals were spouting off everywhere I turned. It began halfway up Jumbo Saddle when I heard a song that reminded me of a Western Meadowlark and I guessed that it was my season’s first Vesper Sparrow. The problem? I didn’t know for sure—a situation faced by millions of birders who have not, or cannot, learn more than a few bird vocalizations.

**In our neck of the woods, Spotted Towhees are among the earliest spring songbird migrants. Fortunately, their weird “bouncing ball” rattle is easy to pick out.**

What to do?

In the past couple of years, I have developed a strategy for dealing with these situations—one that might help you, too. It used to be that when you heard a song or call that you couldn’t identify, one’s options were limited. You could just guess, and play various bird calls on your app, hoping to land on the right one. You could record the call and play it back to an expert. More often, you’d try to follow the song and get a visual on the bird to see what it was. Unfortunately, all of these methods are slow and cumbersome, and in spring, well, there are just too many vocalizations to keep up with.

And then along came Merlin’s Sound ID feature.

Sound ID is (almost) every birder’s dream. You simply tap a button on the Merlin phone app and it begins recording and identifying the songs and calls around you in real time. The app is not infallible. You have to be fairly close to birds for it to pick up and identify them, and the app has difficulty handling background noises such as wind, rushing streams, and cars roaring by on a freeway. The app also makes mistakes. Starlings, mockingbirds, and Steller’s Jays can fool it with their imitations of other birds. If the app only picks up part of a call, it sometimes can mistake one bird for another. The bottom line: you should never use the app alone to identify a bird.

So how do you make proper use of it? I employ it in two ways.

Strategy One: Confirmation

The first is to confirm a song or call that I may be somewhat familiar with—but am not 100% sure about. The putative Vesper Sparrow in the second paragraph is a perfect example. In past years, I had learned that a Vesper Sparrow kind of sounds like the call of a Western Meadowlark—but a bit simpler and cruder. When I heard a “somewhat meadowlark” call near Mount Jumbo Saddle, I immediately thought “Vesper Sparrow” but couldn’t be sure, so I started Sound ID. Sure enough, the song lit up as Vesper Sparrow. Other things made me confident about this ID, too. The timing was right from previous years. Most important, I was standing in perfect Vesper Sparrow habitat—open meadows with tall grass and scattered perching shrubs.

**The arrival of Vesper Sparrows is a cause célèbre for Braden and me. I always need to confirm its meadowlark-like song, however.**

As my hike continued, in fact, I used Sound ID to confirm several other birds in this way, including Steller’s Jay and the year’s first Chipping Sparrows and Yellow-rumped Warblers. Things were about to get more challenging, however.

Strategy Two: Possible Presence

Not long after hearing my first (and second, third, and fourth) Vesper Sparrow, I reached a nice brushy area where Braden and I have heard Orange-crowned Warblers in previous years. Unfortunately for me, I have a very difficult time distinguishing one warbler song from another. I usually recognize Yellow-rumped Warblers when they first show up, but as other species arrive they plunge me into, in the words of Sir Topham Hatt, “confusion and delay.” This morning, I could hear what sounded like warblers—but I didn’t know which ones.

Again, Sound ID comes in very useful in these situations because it can give you an idea of what to look for. I started a new recording and the app failed to come up with any Orange-crowned Warblers. It did, however, identify Yellow-rumped, Yellow, and most exciting, Nashville Warblers! I did not log any of these on eBird, however—not right away. Because I am not good with warbler songs, I needed to confirm these in at least one or two other ways.

**Once the Orange-crowned Warblers arrive, I know I’m in for a real challenge to start distinguishing different warblers by song. That’s when I lean heavily on Sound ID.**

One is to compare what you are hearing with known recordings on other apps. If what you are hearing is identical to vocalizations in the Merlin sound library or on the Sibley app, depending on your experience, I feel confident that you can go ahead and record the bird—again keeping in mind the caveat that some birds imitate others.

Still, I only do this when I am really sure the two songs are the same—understanding that bird songs from the same species can vary tremendously. If I have any doubts, I wait to log a bird on eBird until I have confirmed it with a visual sighting or by running it past an expert. With this technique, Sound ID isn’t cinching the identification for me, but it is helping me a lot by giving me a better idea of what to look for.

This morning, however, I could not find any of the three warblers in the first thicket, so Lola and I kept hiking. Ten minutes later, I spotted a Yellow-rumped Warbler in a tree—and recorded it—but it was the Nashville Warbler I was really after.

**Lincoln’s Sparrows are hands-down one of my and Braden’s favorite songbirds. Unlike the warblers, they also seem kind of curious and make themselves for visible to the eager birder.**

Eventually, I came to another thicket, and here I was thrilled to see my first Lincoln’s Sparrow of the year. Just as enticing, I also was hearing warbler sounds all around me so I turned on Sound ID once again. This time, Orange-crowned and Nashville songs started lighting up Sound ID like a pinball machine. Thanks to the app, I was quickly able to distinguish the two species by ear, and I confirmed these by playing other recordings on the Merlin library. Soon after, I actually saw the birds for myself. Yes! I thought, and finally logged them onto eBird.

**Sound ID has helped me find many more Nashville Warblers than when Braden and I first started birding ten years ago.**

All together, Lola and I saw eight new first-of-year species on our hike. For several of them, Sound ID not only helped me identify them, it alerted me to look for them in the first place. I want to emphasize, however, that Sound ID is not a substitute for putting in the hours to learn and identify birds yourself. Recently, Cornell has issued friendly cautions not to rely on it as your sole basis for identification. Instead, I consider Sound ID a wonderful “helper tool” that can especially assist beginning birders, as well as more experienced birders like myself who just find it difficult to learn vocalizations. And did I mention the Merlin app (with Sound ID) is free? Cornell Lab, the app’s developer, has generously made it available to anyone who wants it. Even better for our international readers, Cornell Lab is rapidly expanding what the app can identify to countries around the globe. All you need is a phone. Learn more at https://merlin.allaboutbirds.org/.

Checklist 1: https://ebird.org/checklist/S172160962

Checklist 2: https://ebird.org/checklist/S172176329

Turning Useless Lawn into Vital Habitat

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As the winter chill wears off, many of us are anticipating how we can spiff up our yards. That can be a tall order when we’ve inherited a landscape of sterile lawns and imported ornamental plants that have no business growing in Montana—or, most likely, wherever else you happen to live. Fortunately, this situation presents us with a wonderful opportunity to bolster the native ecosystems we know and love. How? By replacing exotic species with native plants that are both beautiful and provide real value to birds, insects, and other native wildlife.

**Our blue penstemon and other flowering plants feed a host of native insects, including a variety of bumblebees.**

A Scientific American article titled “The American Obsession with Lawns,” points out that lawns began sprouting up in America in the nineteenth century. They were an attempt to emulate trendier Europeans and, more important, to display wealth and status. Fast forward to today, and a house doesn’t seem complete without its neatly-mowed spread of Kentucky bluegrass. Unfortunately, our obsession with lawns comes with a host of problems.

**As you can see, we aren’t purists. Here, native mock orange (white flowers), snowberry, and fireweed thrive amid California poppies and some kind of honeysuckle I can’t recall the name of!**

Especially in the West, lawns gobble up water that we can scarcely afford. Just how much depends on location and other factors, but keeping a lawn alive can devour between 15 and 75% of a family’s household water consumption. Keeping those lawns green and pristine-looking also can be expensive, especially factoring in the gas and electricity required to run lawnmowers, and the fertilizers and herbicides to keep lawns green and weed-free. Speaking of “weed-free,” despite industry claims that herbicides and other garden chemicals are safe, I am skeptical. Do you really want to be dumping things into the soil that may persist for decades and have unknown long-term health risks. I don’t—especially when my yard sits only twenty feet above the aquifer that I and the rest of my community depends on for drinking water.

Despite industry claims, I don’t think we’ll know the full impacts of a lot of chemicals for years. Unless we want to keep repeating chemical disasters, it seems prudent to avoid commercial herbicides and insecticides whenever possible. Replacing at least a bit of your lawn with native plants is a great way to do that.

All that said, my biggest beef with imported lawns and plants is that they have needlessly transformed productive habitat into sterile expanses with almost no useful function. Sure, a lawn is great for kids to play on—we keep a patch of it ourselves—but our grass obsessions have come at an extreme cost to wildlife, especially to native insects and birds. Many of you have probably heard the shocking statistics that America has lost one quarter of its breeding birds in the short space of fifty years. There are many causes for this, but habitat loss probably ranks at the top. While much of this loss may have been unavoidable, in the case of our lawns, it is not.

Even common, beloved birds have seen dramatic declines in the past fifty years, and habitat loss is often a culprit. Yards filled with native plants can be a major step in reversing this trend. (This is a newly-fledged Black-capped Chickadee sitting in one of our mock orange plants.)

Author Douglas Tallamy (Nature’s Best Hope) points out that 40 million acres of our nation’s natural habitats have been converted to turfgrass—an area about 42% the size of Montana! If we “turf owners” convert just half of our lawns to native habitat, it will restore an area larger than the Everglades, Yellowstone, Yosemite, Grand Teton, Canyonlands, Mount Rainier, North Cascades, Badlands, Olympic, Sequoia, Grand Canyon, Denali, and the Great Smoky Mountains National Parks. Talk about your game changer!

One great thing about native plants is that once you put a few in, they find where else they want to be. This patch of beebalm came up totally on its own—much to the delight of honey bees, bumblebees, and butterflies. (Golden currant in the background, angling up to the right.)

Fortunately, converting your yard to native plants is fairly easy to do. A simple online search reveals nurseries that offer native plants all over our state (also check your native plant society—see below). You don’t have to create your own “national park” all at once. Just dig up a strip of your present lawn and put in some native shrubs. Here in Montana, you’ll want to stick to deer-resistant plants such buffaloberry, juniper, or maple sumac—or better yet, protect plants with fencing until they grow large enough to thwart deer. Before planting trees, think about how big that tree is going to be in fifty or one hundred years—and plant it in an appropriate spot. If you live in a fire area, you’ll want to make sure you keep a defensible space around your house, too.

**Native plants don’t just “grow” native insects. Many provide fruit and seeds for birds, as this berry-laden serviceberry branch shows.**

Incorporating native plants into your yard brings immediate rewards. Our modest native plantings attract chickadees, juncos, wrens, kinglets, and other native birds, many of them feeding on the insects that the plants produce. Why not join the fun? You’ll discover a whole new aspect of gardening, and take satisfaction in helping the wildlife we hold dear.

This House Wren and its mate successfully raised a batch of youngsters in our yard last summer. At times, the pair were bringing caterpillars and other insects to their chicks *every two or three minutes!* To my satisfaction, I watched them grab most of these insects right off of the native plants in our yard!

Sneed’s Favorite Native Plants for the Yard That Don’t Need Deer Protection: buffaloberry, maple sumac, juniper, mountain mahogany, chocolate coneflower, yellow coneflower, Oregon grape, pussytoes.

Sneed’s Favorite Native Plants That Do Need Deer Protection (at least until they grow larger): golden currant, beebalm, burr oak, purple coneflower, mock orange, aspen, rabbitbrush, serviceberry, cottonwood (need a LARGE space).

A Word of Advice: Never, EVER plant any grasses unless you really know what you’re doing. Even native grasses can quickly get out of hand—as I have learned the hard way.

To find out sources of native plants and seeds, check the website of the Montana Native Plant Society. They have lists of resources for every part of the state! If you don’t live in Montana, you probably have your own native plant society you can look up! Here in Missoula, another great resource is Watershed Consulting, which has a wonderful native plant nursery. You can get their list via:

Website: www.mtnativeplants.com; Email: hello@mtnativeplants.com; Andy Martinez, manager: 406.529.7746

If you can’t find a good source of native plants near you, call up the wonderful Audubon native plant database. There you can just enter your zip code and begin finding the best plants to put in near you. Even better, you can purchase the plants directly from the website.

For another great, and more detailed post, about transforming your yard into habitat, check out Shane Sater’s excellent post on his “Wild for Nature” website!

Birding Barcelona, Part 1: The Urban Core

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Braden and I write FatherSonBirding in the hopes of sharing the wonders of birds and birding, and the urgency to protect them. We do not accept advertising or donations, but if you’d like to support our work, please consider buying *NEW* copies of some of Sneed’s books—First-Time Japan, for instance, or my recent Orbis Pictus Award winner, Border Crossings. We appreciate your interest and hope you will keep reading!

Since Braden and I started FatherSonBirding in 2018, I’ve posted a lot about birding in the company of Braden (of course) and my daughter, Tessa. You parents, though, may recognize that with growing kids at home it can be difficult to get one-on-one time with your actual spouse. Last week, Amy and I began to rectify this situation with our first couples vacation in seven years. Our destination was a place we had dreamed of visiting for more than a decade—Barcelona, Spain.

**It’s no accident that I booked a hotel near what may be Barcelona’s largest urban park.**

I admit that Barcelona did not draw me for its birding opportunities. The promise of stunning architecture, great tapas, and practicing my Spanish, though, outweighed any potential avian shortcomings. Nonetheless, it will come as no surprise that I felt determined to scour this remarkable European city for every bird possible. I set a goal of 50 or 60 species for the week. Even more intriguing, my life list stood at 999 species. “Which bird will put me over the top?” I wondered.

I booked us into the Park Hotel, an awesome little place in the historic El Born neighborhood near the Barceloneta Metro Station, the Estacio de Franca train station, the waterfront, and hundreds of uber cool restaurants and shops. I did not admit to Amy that I also booked the place because it sat only a block from one of the city’s largest urban parks, Parc de la Ciutadella. As soon as our plane landed, we bought 5-day Metro passes and rode the subway into town. Emerging from Barceloneta Station, I immediately saw both Rose-ringed and Monk Parakeets noisily flying overhead—and then I spotted a black bird atop a light post. I recognized it right away as my bird #1,000—a Spotless Starling!

Bird 1000! A Spotless Starling! Under FatherSonBirding Rules of Full Disclosure, I am still waiting for someone to tell me that this is actually a European Starling. Apparently, they sometimes also take on this “all black” appearance. If that does turn out to be the case, Yellow-legged Gull will assume Bird #1000 honors!

It wasn’t until the next morning, though, that I seriously plunged into Barcelona birding by rising early and heading over to Ciutadella. It was a glorious, crisp morning and even before I reached the park gates, I noted a procession of parakeets, gulls, magpies, and Western Cattle Egrets flying toward the park. Like many urban parks, Ciutadella has a rather down-trodden, worked-over feel to it. Leaves have been obsessively raked, precluding the development of healthy soil layers (and the insect prey they could produce), and very little mid-sized vegetation exists. Still, I set out optimistically and almost immediately encountered Great Tits, a Eurasian Blue Tit, a European Robin, and my lifer European Serin.

Though I never got a great photo of one, Merlin’s Sound ID picked up European Serins in multiple places I birded. I worried I wouldn’t be able to recognize these as a number of yellowish, stripy, finchy birds live in Catalonia.

Wandering haphazardly, I quickly discovered that the park was the Monk Parakeet capital of Barcelona. Not only did this introduced South American species seem to love roosting and nesting in the palms, many people actually enjoyed feeding them, even early in the morning. This included several people who had pitched their tents in the park and evidently lived there (the tents had been cleared out by the end of the week—perhaps in preparation for a giant convention that was about to descend on the city).

**Aaaaaaw! Monk Parakeets in love. Or at least sharing food. Or perhaps trying to peck each other’s eyes out.**

I kept picking up birds, though, including Common Chiffchaffs, Eurasian Blackbirds, Eurasian Magpies, Rose-ringed Parakeets and then, an especially exciting discovery—my lifer Sardinian Warblers!

Before the trip, I spent a lot of time learning the differences between Sardinian Warblers (shown here) and Eurasian Blackcaps. Once in the field, it was easy to tell them apart—as long as I managed to get a decent look!

What I hadn’t seen so far were any water features, but crossing under a giant gold-plated monument (the Monòlit a la festa de l’arbre de 1899), I encountered a couple of reflecting ponds. In them, I saw a “must-see” species I had somehow never observed in all of my travels—Graylag Goose! Along with the geese, I got good looks at both Black-headed and much beefier Yellow-legged Gulls. I kept an eye out for Lesser Black-backed Gulls, but could never confirm one the entire week.

https://ebird.org/checklist/S161951923

**I scored my lifer Graylag Geese right down the block from our hotel, in Ciutadella park. Note the Black-headed Gulls frolicking in the background.**

I ended my session with a surprisingly robust 23 species, but my week of birding Barcelona had just begun. During the next few days, I kept my travel binoculars slung around my neck, birding tourist-jammed city streets as well as any greenery I could find. I spotted my only Eurasian Jackdaw in a tree on the well-known avenue, Passeig de Gracia. I was delighted to discover a flock of 20 adorable introduced (and lifer) Common Waxbills in the Placa de Gaudi, right across the street from the modern wonder, Sagrada Familia. (This cathedral, designed by the brilliant Catalan architect Antoni Gaudí, is reason enough to visit Barcelona!) I finally saw the trip’s first European Greenfinches and Long-tailed Tits in the marvellous Parc Güell—one of the city’s better urban birding places and another great place to see Gaudí’s handiwork. My best urban birding opportunity, though, still lay ahead.

**Though Common Waxbills are species introduced from Africa, I was thoroughly enchanted by these little “red bandits” when I encountered them across from Sagrada Familia (phone photo).**

On our fourth day in Barcelona, we caught the H14 bus to the Parel-lel Metro station, but instead of boarding the Metro, we rode the funicular up the hill to Montjuïc, a prominent mini-mountain overlooking the city’s southern area. Only a couple of hundred meters away from the exit stood one of our top cultural destinations, Fundació Joan Miró, aka the Miró museum. A bit less famous than Picasso, Miró was Picasso’s contemporary, and even better, we caught a joint exhibit featuring the work of both men. After a thoroughly enjoyable hour or two there—and excellent quiche in their café—we walked up the hill heading for an even more exciting destination. Along the way—and with the help of Merlin’s Sound ID—I located my lifer Eurasian Blackcap.

One of the most common birds I encountered in Spain, the Common Chiffchaff always brought a smile to my face, both for its name and its lively behavior. That said, I also always doubted my ID of this bird since they come in several shades of yellow and brown.

We emerged onto a road running along the top of Montjuïc and were making our way gradually downhill toward the Olympic stadium, when I spotted what looked like a prairie dog in a small field below and to our right. I had other suspicions, however, and raised my binoculars to find those suspicions confirmed: a Eurasian Hoopoe! I hadn’t seen one since Israel, but they are apparently a lot less common in Spain, and I was delighted to see its Picasso-esque crest, long curved bill, and graphic brown, white, and black color pattern. I was glad to show it to Amy, too, since we had first seen one together in Ethiopia almost 20 years before!

**The first Black Redstart I saw in Spain was working over balcony planters in a densely packed neighborhood of apartment buildings in Barceloneta—a clue to how adaptable this handsome species is.**

Another couple of hundred meters brought us to Jardí Bòtanic de Barcelona, and my pulse accelerated as we paid our 3-Euro entry fees and entered. Finally, I would get to bird a somewhat natural area! The only question was, what I would find?

The visit got off to a great start with sightings of Black Redstarts, European Robins, and another blackcap. Making our way around to a little pond, the excitement grew with half a dozen flycatching Common Chiffchaffs, another Black Redstart, and a pair of White-Wagtails—the fourth country I’ve now seen this bird in.

**Though I’d seen European Robins in Amsterdam, Israel, and Japan, this is the first one that ever fully cooperated with my camera. Love it!**

As we headed up to the higher parts of the gardens, a series of unfamiliar high notes pierced the air. I looked around and detected movement on a nearby tree trunk. It belonged to none other than a pair of Short-toed Treecreepers, a bird stunningly analogous to our Brown Creepers, and a species I never thought I’d see in Spain. Awesome!!!!

**A series of high sharp notes alerted me to the presence of several Short-toed Treecreepers, a species I had only dared hope to see in Spain.**

The treecreepers weren’t the last birds we saw in the gardens, but they were probably the coolest. Our 80-minute visit plus the Miró museum marked this as our most fun day so far—but I had one more major Barcelona birding adventure scheduled for the last day of the trip. Find out what it was by reading my next post. Same bird time. Same bird channel.

https://ebird.org/checklist/S162445992

Birding Japan: Quick Stop in Nagano

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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 Sneed’s fifth—and penultimate—post on his and Tessa’s recent trip to Japan. Once again, some of the least expected places lead to some marvelous birding surprises—this time in the site of the 1998 Olympics, Nagano. Please feel free to share this post and catch up on the other Japan installments.

After a wonderful two-night visit to Kanazawa, Tessa and I definitely felt like we’d passed the halfway mark of our trip as we boarded the shinkansen back toward Tokyo. First, however, I’d scheduled a brief stop in the home of the 1998 Winter Olympics—Nagano. To be honest, I didn’t know if we’d have much to do there. Japan’s famous “hot springs monkeys” lived outside of town, but a little research had shown it probably wouldn’t be worth the hassle to try to find them. Nagano also was home to the very famous Zenko-ji Temple, but it turns out that the train ride alone was worth making the entire loop back to Tokyo. Leaving Kanazawa, the bullet train quickly began hugging a section of the wildest ocean I’d yet seen in Japan. Meanwhile, on the other side of the train, enormous snow-covered peaks rose suddenly and majestically. Passing through the town of Itoigawa, population 40,000, I even imagined living there—that is, until I learned it receives more than 100 inches of rain per year!

Itoiogawa—the perfect place to retire? Well, except for the 100+ inches of rain per year. Glad we caught it on a nice day.

We arrived in Nagano about 11:00 and left our bags at our economy hotel, a perfectly clean, comfortable place that cost less than $90 a night. Then we took a leisurely stroll about a mile up to Zenko-ji Temple, which truly was impressive and a bit mysterious. The map showed the temple surrounded by parks and I thought I might find some cool birds there, but I didn’t espy anything particularly interesting. I soothed my disappointment by trying this kind of apple custard tart thing just outside of the temple and thought, “Ah, well, can’t find birds everwhere.”

Zenko-ji Temple—or at least a small part of it. Impressive? Heck ya!

The next morning, however, I woke at 6:00 a.m. wide awake. Tessa was still snoozing so I’m sure you can guess what I did. On a map, I had noticed a small tributary of the Sai River about half a mile from the hotel. Plenty of time to sneak in a bit ‘o birding before breakfast. Nagano was so built up I had few expectations—and actually wasn’t even sure I could access the river itself. Even before I neared it, though, I was surprised by a large flock of Asian House-Martins flying over a large street. It didn’t take long to discover they were nesting under a pedestrian bridge and I paused for ten minutes to study and enjoy them.

**Though I had glimpsed Asian House-Martins in Kanazawa, it was a real pleasure to visit them up-close and personal!**

Several blocks later, I was delighted to reach the river and discover that nice footpaths ran along both sides of it. I saw only the usual suspects until I crossed a bridge to the other side. Suddenly, I glimpsed an unusual brown shape taking flight and landing on another nearby branch. “Oh my god!” I muttered out loud, rapidly quickening my pace while simultaneously turning on my camera. I took a quick photo and then confirmed it through my binoculars. It was a species I had badly wanted to see—but figured I’d exhausted my last opportunity: Bull-headed Shrike!

I was SO HAPPY to finally see a Bull-headed Shrike that I was grinning and talking to myself. I’m surprised the citizens of Nagano didn’t call the police with reports of a crazy foreigner wandering around.

The shrike behaved like our shrikes back home, but with even less fear. I followed it as it worked its way upstream and am glad I did. I immediately spotted another Meadow Bunting in a bush up ahead, and several Eurasian Greenfinches feeding in someone’s front yard. Then, as the shrike approached one riverside clump of bushes, two Daurian Redstarts popped up to challenge it!

**And I present . . . yet another lousy photo of a Eurasian Greenfinch!**

I was grinning broadly by this time, not believing my luck, but the session was far from over. As I made my way back downstream and across the river, I also saw White-cheeked Starlings, a Great Cormorant, Oriental Turtle-dove, a Dusky Thrush, and more.

**Despite seeing them almost everywhere, I never tired of seeing White-cheeked Starlings. If only I could say the same for our European Starlings back home!**

As I approached my exit point, I noticed movement in a thick patch of bushes. I quickly identified several Masked Buntings, but that wasn’t all. I’m pretty sure I saw a Japanese Bush Warbler. Then, to cap it off, a female Daurian Redstart gave me a terrific photo session (even if I didn’t have a terrific photo device), posing for many moments on various branches as the morning sun beautifully illuminated it. The whole experience once again proved that when in doubt, you should always take a look and that, really, you just never know.

I just loved this female Daurian Redstart. Definitely one of the most cooperative birds of the trip.

Sneed’s eBird checklist of Nagano.