Tag Archives: winter birding

Layover Birding in Amsterdam

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Happy 2020 Fellow Birders! It’s been a while since our last post but that doesn’t mean we’ve been idle. In fact, we just arrived back in the country after a month-long adventure to the Middle East—something which will occupy at least our next four or five posts. Before we get to the Levant, however, we want to share some birds on the way—in, you guessed it, Amsterdam!

**Birding Amsterdam’s Vondelpark was the perfect way to kick off our Middle East adventure!**

Our flights were set up so that we got an eight-hour layover in the Netherlands, and you can bet we took advantage of it. As soon as our plane landed, we raced through immigration and customs, caught a train to Amsterdam’s Central Station and then a trolley out to what looked like our best birding opportunity, Vondelpark. As we entered the enormous urban landscape, clouds and chilly temperatures greeted us, but no rain, so we were in birding business. As fast as you can say “Common Wood-Pigeon”, our Life Lists exploded.

**Rose-ringed Parakeets? In Amsterdam? Hard to believe, but yes–in abundance!**

Braden and I had done our due diligence by studying eBird lists for Amsterdam prior to the trip, but we were still blown away by how many of the birds actually appeared in front of us. They included the European versions of some of America’s common birds—Eurasian Moorhen, Eurasian Coot, Gray Heron, and Eurasian Magpie—but soon we also saw the more specialized residents. The first was a big surprise: European Greenfinch. These were followed by Eurasian Blackbirds, Eurasian Jackdaws, Eurasian Jays, Carrion Crows, and a prized trio of tits: Great, Blue, and Long-tailed.

**Tits are basically the Euro versions of our chickadees—and every bit as cute, as these Blue and Long-tailed Tits demonstrate!**

But you know me. At the top of my “To See” list was the Great Spotted Woodpecker, the only possible woodpecker in the vicinity. After an hour, we still hadn’t seen one when Braden suddenly swiveled and pointed. “Woodpecker!” Unfortunately, the bird was high-tailing it away from us, but we saw it land in a tree at the far side of the park. “After it!” I shouted and we raced across the park. The lighting was terrible, but the bird stayed just long enough for some decent looks. BOO-YAH!

**This Great Cormorant was a real surprise in Vondelpark**.

Our birding expedition wrapped up with a look at a Eurasian Wren, a Redwing, and some great quality time with European Robins—both Braden’s and my “Bird of the Day.” Then it was off to get warm and take a quick tour of the Van Gogh Museum. No offense to the great artist, but it seemed oddly anticlimactic after the living art we’d seen in the park.

**Some great hang time made the European Robin our Bird of the Day. Look for them in movies filmed in Europe!**

Take a look at our complete checklist here:

https://ebird.org/checklist/S62703700

Big Day Mentality

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This is the Big Day Mentality: Every species, no matter how rare, is worth one tally. During a 24-hour period, a team of birders try to collect as many tallies as possible; the end total is the sum of every single bird species seen or heard during the day by at least two members of the team. At the San Diego Birding Festival, my dad and I were invited to be “first lieutenants” on two Big Day field trips.

We co-led our first outing under the expert leadership of veteran birder Phil Pryde, a local San Diegoan who had an ambitious schedule planned out for the day, in order to maximize the amount of species we saw. From dawn to dusk we scoured San Diego county, which is larger than Delaware and Rhode Island combined; a bird only counted if one of the leaders and one of the participants identified it. By the end of the day we had arrived at a total of 113 species, and my dad and I at just over a hundred individually. The number wasn’t bad, and the day had given us a rough idea of how many birds to expect for the next Big Day. Overall, though, the day hadn’t been very “birdy”—we had missed quite a few common species.

At Lindo Lake we spotted several pairs of the most photogenic Wood Ducks we had ever encountered!

On our next Big Day, under the guidance of our good-natured chief, Eitan Altman, we were determined to break this record. Unfortunately, the conditions didn’t look good—a low, wet mist had rolled over the area. Thanks to the rain, we didn’t have to rush inland to get early-morning songbirds (they were probably huddled in their warm, dry nests with no intent on warbling at the weather), so we birded along the coast at a relaxed pace. While doing this, we saw an unexpectedly high number of species, including Common Loon, Surf Scoter and Brant, which had not been a guarantee, a huge flock of Black Skimmers, and rarities such as Glaucous-winged Gull and the well-known Reddish Egret which hung out in the San Diego River Estuary. The eccentric bird’s gait reminded me of Kramer from the TV show Seinfeld.

This Greater White-fronted Goose is a regular at Lindo Lake.

Finally, around nine in the morning, we headed inland to Lindo Lake, the place which had yielded the highest number of species to us on the previous Big Day. We tallied high numbers of waterfowl, woodpeckers and more, including some more rarities: the resident Greater White-fronted Goose hanging out with a flock of domestic geese, not one but two Yellow-bellied Sapsuckers, and a Bonaparte’s Gull that had somehow wound its way inland.

We continued hitting different habitats to nab species, and by three in the afternoon our total sat at 120 species, the most recent being an altitudinally-challenged Band-tailed Pigeon, a calling Canyon Wren and the ever-rare American Robin. As soon as I confirmed our total, Eitan began thinking of other species we could pick up, now determined to beat his personal record of 128. On our way back to the coast we stopped at places to grab specific birds, including White-tailed Kite and Greater Roadrunner. The tide was out now, and at the San Diego River Estuary we grabbed another six species, though unfortunately none of the rarities being reported there (Tricolored Heron, Mew Gull, Eurasian Wigeon) except the spunky Reddish Egret and a beautiful double rainbow.

We spotted a wintering flock of blackbirds at Lindo Lake, including many Tricolored Blackbirds, a California endemic.

As the day grew closer to our deadline of five o’clock, we opted to try and get a few last birds at a place called Fiesta Island, arguing over possible birds:

“Was that a Northern Harrier?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Are you sure?.”

And finally, right at the entrance to the island we hit 130 with a Spotted Sanspiper bobbing along the rocks of the coastline. A pair of American Kestrels on the actual island sealed the deal.

We finished the trip, said our goodbyes, then responded appropriately to our biggest day ever by collapsing into bed.

Nick the Owl Finder Strikes Again!

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We need help! The last few weeks, we are facing a continuous onslaught of Russian hackers trying to subscribe—really! In the process of deleting them, we accidentally lost our entire subscriber list. If you are reading this, would you please resubscribe by filling out the boxes down in the right-hand column? We greatly appreciate it—and please share this with all your bird-loving friends! And now, to Braden’s new post!

When you’re a birder, nothing ever goes according to plan. For example, if you slog through a draw to find a Long-eared Owl, you’re more likely to see a flock of Bohemian Waxwings, or your state’s first record of a Red-flanked Bluetail, or a moose, or anything that is not a Long-eared Owl.

The plan on Sunday, February 10^th was to sleep in. Instead, my dad shook me awake at seven in the morning (which I guess is technically sleeping in, but still).

“Nick found a Great Gray and a Barred at Maclay Flats! We have to go!”

Only an owl can get me out of bed early on a weekend!

I groaned and rolled out of bed, and within minutes we rumbled down the road in my dad’s Forerunner, dodging the potholes who tried to swallow us. The plan was to go the speed limit, but as I said earlier, things never go according to plan.

We reached Maclay in record time, and I texted Nick, asking for details. He responded quickly, providing great photos of both owls, and we trekked through the snow-blanketed forest, accompanied only by the occasional chirps of Red Crossbills flying over. As we passed the fields where we had spotted the Northern Pygmy-Owls two years prior, we scanned the bare trees. Nothing.

Then we hit the huge field in the center of Maclay, where Nick had said the Great Gray was hunting. We followed a trail of footsteps around the edge of it, running into another man that my dad knew, and we asked him if he’d had any luck.

When owls prove hard to find, Red-breasted Nuthatches provide entertaining diversion.

“None yet—but I’ve seen owls here before.”

“You heard about the Great Gray and the Barred here, though, right?”

“What? No, I just came out here today.”

Soon, we spotted two other birders on the edge of the field ahead of us, pointing cameras at the top of a Ponderosa.

“That’s a good sign,” said my dad.

We quickened our pace towards them, and I suddenly glanced up to see something I hadn’t seen in four years: a Great Gray Owl. The magnificent predator of the night’s eyes glowed with yellow fire, staring down at all of the peasants who had dared enter its domain. It wasn’t quite as large as I remembered, but then again it perched high on a pine bough.

Politicians spend a lifetime trying to master a Great Gray Owl’s stare!

As we snapped hundreds of photos, Nick suddenly joined us, accompanied by his stepmom and his dad, Phil.

“Nick!” I said, “How do you manage to find all these owls!?”

“Well, we came out looking for the Great Gray and just walked past the tree that the Barred was in. Do you want to see it?”

“Sure!”

Re-locating the Barred proved easier said than done. Nick had discovered the Barred in a spruce, but we trudged through deep snow, unable to find it. After half an hour, Nick finally stopped and pointed into the shaded interior of a tree. The Barred was smaller than the Great Gray, and much less active, as if trying to merge with its dark surroundings. After spending more time watching both owls, we returned to the car, tired, cold and fulfilled. Things definitely hadn’t gone according to plan!

“Just let me sleep!” this Barred was probably thinking, but he didn’t budge from his cozy roost.

Winter Birding in Atlanta’s Surprising Piedmont Park

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When we were invited to my brother’s wedding in Atlanta, Braden and I immediately began wondering which birds we might encounter in the “Dogwood City” in mid-January. Our first morning there, we determined to find out by taking a loop around Piedmont Park in the company of our good friend—and famous “Hidden Figures” movie extra—Erica Brown. Almost immediately, the birds came out to meet us!

Sneed and Braden trying to track down a Carolina Wren in some brush at Piedmont Park. (Photo by Erica Brown)

Making a loop to the north from the parking lot, we soon found common hoped-for Northern Cardinals, Blue Jays, and Carolina Chickadees, but then surprised a gorgeous Red-shouldered Hawk lurking along the stream bed. The birds only got better from there.

This Red-shouldered was a real delight—and proof that a thriving bird community can exist in the heart of an urban environment. (Photo by Braden Collard)

Continuing north, we picked up Tufted Titmouse, Ruby-crowned Kinglets, Carolina Wrens, Eastern Phoebes, and to my delight, a Golden-crowned Kinglet, which I was especially glad to see because my crummy hearing doesn’t allow me to find these by sound. Looping back on the far side of the park, I began wondering where the woodpeckers might be when I spotted a small candidate in a tree. “There’s a Downy,” I pointed to Braden. “I see it,” he said, “but that’s not a Downy. It’s a Yellow-bellied Sapsucker!” “Huh?” Turns out, we’d been looking at different birds!

We never get tired of watching phoebes—especially one that we rarely get to see, the Eastern Phoebe. (Photo by Braden Collard)

Our real jackpot turned out to be a large, muddy puddle next to some dead grasses. There, we picked up Swamp, Chipping, Song, and White-throated Sparrows, Eastern Towhees, and my favorite, a pair of Brown Thrashers. All told, we bagged 28 species, far exceeding our wintry expectations. Better yet, Braden scored three Lifers: Eastern Towhee, Swamp Sparrow, and Yellow-bellied Sapsucker!

This Eastern Towhee proved a Lifer for both of us! (Photo by Braden Collard)

As a bonus, that night, we got to visit with the wonderful folks of Atlanta Audubon at my book signing with A Cappella Books, held at Brickworks Gallery. What a fun group! The welcoming people—and welcoming birds—left only one burning question: what could “Hot’lanta” possibly be like during spring migration? One day, we hope to find out!

Next Post: another urban birding report from my upcoming trip to San Antonio for the TCTELA Conference.

Need Winter Birds? Go Skiing!

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At 6:50 a.m. on January 4, my family awoke and piled into our minivan, looking forward to the white slopes of Discovery Ski Resort near Philipsburg. After picking up my friend Eli, we took off, driving southeast towards the resort and Georgetown Lake, which coincidentally abounded with rare and spectacular birds in winter. During the CBC the week before, Gary Swant informed us that he had spotted both Great Gray Owls and Boreal Owls in the area. So, of course, before we quite arrived at Discovery, we took a short drive along a logging road running through the pine forest above the frozen lake.

Five minutes in, my dad saw birds perched on the road ahead of us, and hit the brakes. We guessed they had to be something interesting. The first two, which turned out to be Mountain Chickadees, flew away as soon as I got out of the car, but the third, a bigger passerine with a heftier beak stayed and allowed us good looks—it was a Pine Grosbeak! In the past week we had ticked off countless nemesis birds (including a Merlin in downtown Missoula on the 3^rd) and this bird proved no exception!

We arrived at Discovery, where no line awaited us, and proceeded to tackle the slopes. The fact that we lived in Montana did not mean we excelled at skiing, so we mostly stuck to the green circle (easy) and blue square (intermediate) runs, though Eli, Tessa and I did try out a very short black diamond (advanced).

At about one o’ clock, we scarfed down a quick lunch, then ran outside equipped with my camera, binoculars, lunch rolls and a bag of birdseed. Two years ago, we learned that the birds around the ski area took full nutritional advantage of their human visitors, and that the resident Mountain Chickadees actually had been trained to feed out of people’s hands! We cast bits of bread on the ground, then took turns holding birdseed out towards the stands of trees around the parking lot. Sure enough, the birds found us, and we each got to feel the tiny, reptilian-esque feet of the chickadees as they alighted on our fingers and snatched up sunflower seeds.

Nothing helps one understand the nature of “being bird” quite like having a Mountain Chickadee land on your fingertips!

Meanwhile, Gray Jays (now known as Canada Jays), Clark’s Nutcrackers and Steller’s Jays pounced on the rolls we purchased from the lodge, the braver ones landing within a meter of our feet. To top that off, we even discovered a big flock of Pine Grosbeaks flying around above us, the males’ robin-like songs weaving through the air.

Alas, this trip prioritized skiing over birding, so we had to leave the feeding fest behind. After racing down a few more runs, we packed up and drove home, with great photos and a new Life Bird under our belts, and more importantly, an unforgettable memory.