Tag Archives: woodpeckers

Avian Reveal: Our Five Picks for New Bird Names

We had planned to publish this post on Thanksgiving, but were in Minnesota and the “auto publish” tool failed—and not for the first time. Still, we hope you enjoy this post-Thanksgiving post, and even more, we hope you all had a lovely long weekend with friends and family. Braden and I have much to be grateful for—including you, our faithful readers—and thank you for your interest and enthusiasm over the years. Now get out there and bird!

Lest you think the birding community is immune from internecine disputes, I present to you two issues that have been roiling birders for the past decade: the woeful situation of horrible state bird choices, and the more recent—and contentious—decision by the American Ornithological Society to begin changing English language common names of all birds named after people. Braden recently addressed the disgraceful situation surrounding our state birds in his post “Getting Serious About State Birds”. Today, I’d like to tackle the AOS’s earth-shaking naming decision.

If you’re a birder, you pretty much have to be living under a rock not to know about this recent shocker. A complete, explanatory news release can be found here, but basically, the American Ornithological Society has long assumed responsibility for the English language common names of all American birds. After years of debate, it has decided to axe all eponymous bird names—those honoring specific individuals. This decision has triggered several immediate results. One is to improve the vocabulary of millions of Americans (myself included) who have had to look up the word “eponymous” in the dictionary. The second is to unleash a foaming volcano of vitriol as birders across America—nay, the world—have vigorously defended and attacked the new policy.

I’ll just come out and say that both Braden and I generally support the AOS decision, but as with most things, the matter is more nuanced than passionate social media posts lead you to believe. There’s no question that certain eponymous names can be deemed offensive, but there are plenty of others that you have to try really hard to be offended by—and it’s a shame we have to chuck the baby out with the (bird) bath water. Unfortunately, failing to do so would ignite endless, often pointless debate about each and every eponymous bird name that exists. All of that time, energy, and money is better spent protecting birds rather than debating their names, and so the AOS wisely decided to wipe the slate clean.

Rather than add to the already burdensome body of opinion flooding the media, Braden and I decided it would be fun simply to pick five of our favorite Rocky Mountains birds that will be impacted by this decision—and try to come up with the perfect new names for each. We hope you will weigh in with your own (non-offensive) thoughts about our choices, as well as your own (non-offensive) alternatives. We will start with perhaps our favorite North American warbler—and perhaps the most difficult to rename.

MACGILLIVRAY’S WARBLER

One of the ironies of MacGillivray’s Warbler is that it was named after an 18^th-century Scottish ornithologist who devoted much of his life to, you guessed it, coming up with better names for British birds! Names such as Red-throated Thistlefinch, Quaketail, and Provence Furzeling—none of which survived the test of time. MacGillivray was a controversial figure and apparently offended almost everyone during his lifetime, but that didn’t stop John James Audubon from naming one of our most spectacular American warblers after him. I mean, just look at this bird. He’s not as showy as some others, but his colors are refined, sophisticated. Any lady of quality will recognize it—and if his looks don’t do it, his sweet sophisticated song will clinch the deal. Braden and I always stop when a MGWA pops out of a bush, and we’re not the only ones. But what should the AOS call it?

The bird breeds in shrubby places, often near streams or in recent burn areas, but somehow Shrubby Warbler or Second-growth Warbler don’t seem deserving of this special bird. As far as its looks, Hooded Warbler and Mourning Warbler are already taken—and honestly, aren’t all that great anyway. The partial white eye rings stand out, and are an identification key, so perhaps Crescent-Eyed Warbler? Its hood also gives off a velvet or satiny sheen, so Velvet-hooded Warbler? Quicksilver Warbler? Silver-headed Warbler? After much agonizing, we have landed on Satin Crescent-Eye. Of the five birds included here, this one poses the toughest challenge, so we’d love to hear your suggestions!

CLARK’S NUTCRACKER

When William Clark, of the famous Lewis and Clark Expedition, first saw a Clark’s Nutcracker, he thought it was a woodpecker. However, that didn’t prevent the bird from becoming one of the most iconic species of the West. Clark’s Nutcrackers are especially known for planting high-altitude pine forests—especially those of the White-barked Pine. Each bird caches thousands of pine seeds, far more than it can use, and the overlooked seeds sprout into new forests. The birds and trees are so interconnected that the pines have actually evolved changes in the shapes of their seeds and cones that facilitate dispersal by the nutcracker. Because of this important and fascinating relationship, Braden and I hereby vote to bestow the bird with the name Whitebark Nutcracker. Long live the nutcracker!

LEWIS’S WOODPECKER

Despite the rather embarrassing ID mistake with the Clark’s Nutcracker, the Lewis & Clark Expedition did end up being honored with a woodpecker after all—the Lewis’s Woodpecker. Renaming this bird has engendered spirited debate on Facebook and elsewhere, perhaps because Lewis’s may be America’s most stunning woodpecker. With a green back that often looks black, a subtle gray collar, and an absolutely spectacular watermelon-colored breast and face, the bird has inspired a host of potential names such as Glamorous Woodpecker, Pink-and-Green Woodpecker, and Silver-scarfed Glossy Woodpecker. To us, these kinds of names seem a bit plebian and uninspired. Not only that, the decline of the species is most closely related to the loss of a particular type of tree, so why not bestow a name that involves some education as well? Because of this, we officially propose—nay, insist—that this bird henceforth be called the Cottonwood Woodpecker.

TOWNSEND’S SOLITAIRE

Both Townsend’s Solitaire and Townsend’s Warbler—not to mention at least half a dozen mammals—are named after noted 19^th-century naturalist John Kirk Townsend. Townsend came from an ardently anti-slavery Quaker family and accompanied renowned botanist Thomas Nuttall (Nuttall’s Woodpecker) on an 1834 expedition across the Rocky Mountains to the Pacific. During this time, Townsend collected numerous specimens new to Western science—including, coincidentally—MacGillivray’s Warbler! As if all that wasn’t enough to make us love Townsend’s Solitaires, this is a bird that symbolizes the onset of winter, as it descends to our neighborhood after its mountain breeding season. Add to that its lively, musical song and subtle good looks, and the bird has had no trouble flying into our hearts. The AOS decision also gives us a chance to bestow the perfect, slam-dunk name on the bird: Silver Solitaire.

LINCOLN’S SPARROW

You might think that if ever a bird deserves to keep its eponymous name, it’s got to be Lincoln’s Sparrow, right? I mean who can argue with the president that consistently sits atop the list of greatest presidents in our nation’s history? Alas, the bird isn’t named for that Lincoln. Instead, Audubon named it after the 21-year-old son of a friend, Thomas Lincoln, who accompanied him on an expedition to Labrador, Canada. Audubon had not seen a Lincoln’s Sparrow before, but when one popped up, Thomas Lincoln immediately shot it with a slingshot. Even with that fairly bittersweet story, Lincoln’s Sparrow rules our favorite sparrows list.

This bird exudes charm. It breeds in boggy habitats, usually among willows and often near taller perching trees. It sings a complex, multi-part composition that brightens any landscape, and will often pop out on a branch to give birders excellent viewing experiences. Though subtle, its colors are striking. A yellow wash on its breast and “moustache” contrast most beautifully with its gray and rufous head and white eye ring. The subtlety of its colors, however, and superficial resemblance to other sparrows, makes the bird particularly challenging to rename. Swamp Sparrow, after all, is already taken. Our friend, ornithologist Dick Hutto, suggests Willow Sparrow and that’s not half-bad, but we feel the bird deserves something more inspiring. We therefore dub it . . . Autumn Sparrow! This name not only matches its colors, but coincides with one of the two seasons when many U.S. birders have their best shot at seeing the bird since it can only be found in most states during migration.

So that’s a wrap. We’ve done the heavy listing for the AOS on some of America’s favorite birds. Now, the committee will just have to roll up its sleeves and figure out the other 75 or so species on their immediate list! Braden and I wish them good luck—and if they run into trouble, they know who to call. Our rates are very reasonable.

Fall Birding in Glacier National Park

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Last week, after speaking at the monthly meeting of Flathead Audubon (see post “Birding with the President”), I spent the night with my gracious hosts, Darcy and Rob Thomas, and rose at 5 a.m. for a birding excursion to Glacier National Park. Powered by an egg and sausage burrito from City Brew, I made it to the park by 7:00 and rumbled and bumped my way up Inner North Fork Road. Braden, Nick Ramsey, and I had been here only five weeks before on a quest to find me a Lifer Spruce Grouse, and guess what? I was still on that quest! Today, though, I decided to try a different route, the Camas Creek Trail that leads east toward the heart of the park. I arrived to find the little parking area totally empty and, after strapping on my fanny pack, and slinging my camera and binoculars over my shoulders, set out under a dawn sky.

**Sunrise at Camas Meadow. Need I say more?**

Entering a patch of woods, I walked quietly and raised my senses to full alert. I didn’t want to scare away a Spruce Grouse along the trail, but I also wanted to spot a grizzly bear before it spotted me! Of course, park officials recommend hiking noisily to alert bears to your presence, but for birders this obviously is a counterproductive strategy. Bear spray would probably have been a good idea, but as usual I forgot to bring any. Within a quarter mile of the trailhead, however, I got a good scare.

I was rounding a bend with some trees on the right when suddenly a large shape launched from a branch and spread enormous gray wings. Owl! my brain shouted as my heart hammered, but which kind? The park contained only two large-owl possibilities: Great Gray and Great Horned. I hurried forward, trying to see where it was headed, but failed miserably. Without ever facing toward me, it disappeared through some trees, never to be seen again. My gut and the length of the owl’s wings tells me it was a Great Gray Owl but I will never know. Sigh.

After that startling start, my hike settled down. I reached Camas Meadow just as the sun began peeking over the Continental Divide and savored being absolutely alone in one of the world’s most beautiful places. I got here so early that the birds were off to a slow start. I saw a few flitting around, and Merlin’s Sound ID feature informed me that they were Pine Siskins and Yellow-rumped Warblers. It also told me that the chickadees I was hearing were Mountain Chickadees. Other than that, the action languished.

**Despite this rather poor image, one of the highlights of my Camas Meadow trail hike was the abundance of Yellow-rumped Warblers fattening up for migration.**

Fortunately, that held true on the grizzly bear front, too. I passed some scat, but it looked like black bear poop (smaller, full of berries, less messy), and was old to boot. In fact, I passed few fruiting plants relative to other places I’d recently visited in western Montana—a fact that might bode poorly for possible grouse sightings.

I hiked for about two, two-and-a-half miles, before pausing for a drink of water and, reluctantly, turning around. Fortunately, as I began retracing my route, rising temperatures seemed to lead to greater bird activity. Most impressive were the number of Yellow Warblers. I tallied at least 30, but am sure I undercounted. Their chips sprung from many locations, and I also spotted a couple of Ruby-crowned Kinglets (one boldly displaying its red crown), Dark-eyed Juncos, and Pine Siskins. An occasional Northern Flicker called sharply overhead.

I was surprised to spot this Red-naped Sapsucker in Glacier. I hadn’t realized they hung around Montana quite so long!

About halfway back to the car, I saw a small brown bird flitting about in a bush. Its furtive skulking behavior distinguished it from the other birds I’d been seeing, so I stopped and raised my binoculars, waiting for a clear look. It took a few moments, but it finally showed itself—a Lincoln’s Sparrow! One day, Braden and I will have to list our Top 10 Favorite Sparrows, but for me, Lincoln’s is Number One. Not only does it display a gorgeous, subtle color palette, it seems to have a more curious, delightful nature than other sparrows. When Braden and I began birding almost a decade ago, a Lincoln’s Sparrow was the first sparrow that really made a big impression on me. We devoted several outings to the chase before finally seeing one, so maybe its uncommonness also has something to do with my ranking.

**This delightful Lincoln’s Sparrow captured “Bird of the Hike” honors for my visit to Camas Meadow.**

After spending a few minutes with Mr. Lincoln’s, I continued hiking. A Red-naped Sapsucker surprised me. Then, I heard a series of eerie whooping noises that reminded me a bit of an Osprey. “What the heck?” I muttered. Then I saw it: a Canada Jay swooping in for a landing high in a nearby tree. A couple of other CAJAs also appeared. The jays, one of my favorite corvids, always delight with their antics and these provided a great way to wrap up my hike. Yes, I had once again missed a Spruce Grouse, but I’d gotten a good sense for what’s going on with the birds in Glacier this time of year. That was invaluable knowledge in my continuing education as a birder. It also happened to make a real contribution to science in the park.

**I had no idea what was making that eerie looping call—until I saw this Canada Jay fly to a nearby treetop.**

Returning home, I looked up how many eBird checklists have been posted for Camas Creek Trail in the fall. To my astonishment, mine was only the second ever checklist for September! (The other list, from later in the month, noted only three species.) A couple of lists have been posted later, but my own provides the only eBird data for this interesting time of year. Now I know this sounds like boasting, but I mention it to emphasize two important facts:

Even though birding has been around a long time, HUGE gaps remain in what we know about almost every bird species, its movements, and habits.
Your citizen science contributions matter. Sometimes it’s a pain or inconvenient to post what you see on eBird, but you just never know when you will be providing crucial information to a scientist or policy expert wanting to learn something new or make an important decision.

And really, could it get any better? Contributing to knowledge while being out having a great time? I don’t think so. Just keep an eye out for those grizzly bears.

Savoring Sedona: Guest Post by Roger Kohn

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We are delighted this week to present only our second ever guest post, by long-time reader of FatherSonBirding, Roger Kohn. Roger and I met at UC Berkeley and roomed together for a time at Cloyne Court Co-op. Since retiring from a distinguished career with the EPA, he and his wife Claudia have settled in Bend and have pursued birding with a passion. Recently, they embarked on their first Arizona birding adventure, kicking it off with a place Braden and I have never birded, Sedona. I asked if he would give FatherSonBirding readers a taste of what it’s like to bird one of the world’s most beautiful places!

Inspired by Sneed and Braden’s adventures in southeastern Arizona last year, and eager to see more bird species and beautiful southwestern landscapes, my wife Claudia and I hopped a flight to Phoenix this past April to start a two-week birding vacation. Our plan was to focus on southeast Arizona. Before heading south, however, we visited Sedona to revel in its awe-inspiring landscapes. Although not known as a birding destination, I was confident we would see some good birds. After all, it was spring in Arizona.

Rising early on our first day, I stepped out onto our deck, which faced a large yard with bird feeders and had more green space beyond. I quickly spotted nine species, including two Lifers: an Inca Dove and a Northern Cardinal (a male, in all its bright red glory), a species I had wanted to see for a long time. Welcome to Arizona! The trip was off to a fine start.

After breakfast we drove a short distance to the location we selected for Day 1 birding: Red Rock State Park, known for its stunning vistas. At the Visitor Center viewing platform, we saw a Turkey Vulture, followed by two dark raptors with white bands on their tails circling above us. “Hawks!,” I exclaimed. I wasn’t sure what species they were, but I knew it was one we hadn’t seen before. The answer came quickly from a park ranger who was standing nearby: Common Black Hawk. Lifer! And who doesn’t love raptors? What a great way to begin our park visit.

**A Lifer Common Black Hawk soars above Red Rock State Park.**

After getting looks at another Northern Cardinal, as well as Lesser Goldfinches, House Finches, Red-wing Blackbirds, and White-crowned Sparrows, we followed the Bunkhouse Trail a short distance downhill to Kingfisher Bridge, which spans Oak Creek. The creek was wide and gushed with fast-moving water. This would prove to be a surprising theme of the trip: plenty of water and lush landscapes–not what one thinks of in a state known for its desert landscapes! Tall, bare trees grew right out of the creek, giving a bizarre, otherworldly quality to this striking scene.

We didn’t see any kingfishers at their namesake bridge, but we did see a couple of Black Phoebes (a flycatcher species) perched on branches above the creek between breakfast-gathering forays. Crossing the bridge, we headed west on the Kisva Trail into riparian habitat next to the creek. It was very birdy here, although not always easy to see the birds. Violet-green Swallows zipped back and forth, and a couple even were cooperative enough to perch and allow me to photograph them. We could hear the harsh calls of Gila Woodpeckers reverberating all around us. The Audubon app describes their calls as “a rolling churrr.” To me, the calls had a bizarre, almost electronic, quality. We were not able to see the woodpeckers, but they are very common in Arizona and we would see them many times in a variety of different habitats on the rest of the trip. A little further on, we could see a lot of bird activity in the treetops. Benefitting from Merlin Sound ID, we knew we were looking at Lucy’s Warblers, another Lifer!

**A Lifer Lucy’s Warbler in the treetops along Oak Creek in Red Rock State Park.**

The Kisva Trail took us to the Eagle’s Nest Trail, which gradually ascends to a summit with a commanding 180-degree view of the surrounding red-rock country. The scenery in and around Sedona is absolutely jaw-dropping, with layers of colorful rock rising into towering formations that lend an epic, cinematic quality to the landscape. This is why we came to Sedona!

We didn’t see many birds on our way up, or as we descended on a loop trail that took us back to Oak Creek. Walking along the creek, we got good looks at a Townsend’s Solitaire and a House Wren, perched and singing a sweet and enchanting aria for all to enjoy. Later I saw a black and white bird darting back and forth among the trees. I wondered if it could be a species that I was really looking forward to seeing based on my pre-trip bird study. Could it be… yes it was… a Bridled Titmouse! Lifer! With what eBird calls a “crested head with striking black-and-white pattern unlike any other bird,” the Bridled Titmouse makes up for its lack of color with a combination of elegant form and bold contrast that give the species a big WOW factor. We loved these guys and saw them on several other occasions in the next two weeks.

A House Wren sings its heart out next to Oak Creek in Red Rock State Park.

Relaxing back at our rental with a fine locally produced beverage made with barley and hops (and love), we snagged two more Lifers: Woodhouse’s Scrub-Jay and Canyon Towhee. As the sun sunk toward the horizon, we reflected on the excellent first day of our Arizona birding adventure.

**A Lifer Canyon Towhee says hi at our rental.**

We awoke to another gorgeous early spring morning on Day 2 of the trip. Our plan was to bird the West Fork Trail, which follows Oak Creek in the Coconino National Forest. After a pretty 30-minute drive through rugged country north of Sedona, we arrived. A pair of bright blue Steller’s Jays and a group of cackling Acorn Woodpeckers greeted us in the parking lot. As we gathered our gear to get ready to walk, a few black and red birds flew over us and landed in the trees above us. This had to be something good. Focusing our binoculars in high branches where the birds landed, we were delighted to discover that they were Painted Redstarts, a Lifer for both of us! We got great looks and absolutely loved this warbler species, with its gorgeous black, red, and white plumage. Although we would get glimpses of this species again later in the trip, this was by far our best sighting.

**A show-stopping Lifer Painted Redstart in the West Fork Trail parking lot.**

Starting our walk, we enjoyed views of three other warbler species near a footbridge that spanned the creek. Lucy’s Warblers were present, although hard to see as they flitted around in the treetops. We got good looks at Yellow-rumped Warblers, and a beautiful Yellow Warbler foraging in the trees.

Continuing, we passed the ruins of an old cabin and were delighted by the beauty of this place, with cliffs in hues of pink, white, and gray rising to dizzying heights above the canyon floor. We saw Ruby-crowned Kinglets, House Wrens, American Robins, and many Acorn Woodpeckers (which live in family groups), with their colorful and clownish face patterns. Soon we reached a waist-high creek crossing that we didn’t want to attempt, so we turned around. On the way back, we enjoyed views of a pair of Common Black Hawks harassing a Peregrine Falcon. The raptors flew gracefully and at high speeds, making sharp turns as the hawks pursued the falcon, all set against a dramatic background of colorful canyon walls.

We loved the beauty of the landscapes in Sedona and would love to return. As our two-day stay wrapped up, we had seen 38 species, including eight Lifers. Now southeast Arizona, which Tucson Audubon calls “one of the most fascinating areas for birding in the United States,” with over 400 bird species seen annually and approximately 500 recorded, beckoned. Early the next morning, we eagerly pointed our car south toward Tucson.

**The author in his natural habitat, a brewery in Tucson!**

eBird Checklist – 12 Apr 2023 – Red Rock SP – 18 species (+1 other taxa)

eBird Checklist – 12 Apr 2023 – Coconino National Forest, Sedona US-AZ 34.83181, -111.80798 – 4 species

eBird Checklist – 13 Apr 2023 – Oak Creek Canyon–West Fork – 12 species

Birding Japan: Kanazawa

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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 our Japan birding posts. In this edition, Sneed explores the “less visited” city of Kanazawa, a place that would turn out to be perhaps one of their favorite stops on trip—and with some surprising birds. If you are just tuning in to Japan, be sure to check in on our last post from Kyoto!

Leaving Kyoto, our (non-bullet) train took us through my favorite scenery yet in Japan. Just north of Kyoto, the train hugged the shoreline of Lake Biwa for more than half an hour. Seeing the lake on a map, I envisioned a forested wilderness, marked perhaps by some resorts or getaways, but the entire lakeshore was surprisingly built up with cities, towns, and farmland. Alas, the train was too far away from the lake to identify any birds except Black Kites and crows, though I did see an enticing shorebird flying across a field. Passing through a tunnel, we then entered picturesque mountain areas where I looked in vain for a Brown Dipper in the roaring streams we crossed. No luck. Emerging back onto a large plain, we more or less re-entered civilization until we arrived at our next destination, Kanazawa.

**Both Tessa and I were taken with Kanazawa Castle and its grounds from the moment we approached the main entry gate.**

I had booked us a hotel right next to Kanazawa’s major tourist feature, a large castle set in a park-like setting, and as soon as we dropped our bags at the hotel, we grabbed a “set lunch” at a local café and headed straight to the castle. Tessa hadn’t seemed too impressed with other castles on the trip, but this one wowed us both—perhaps because of its dramatic approach and the glorious sakura flowers blooming at the gates. After going inside the castle, we took a wonderful walk on paths above it, where Tessa declared this was her favorite place so far on the trip. The birds also liked it well enough, with the omnipresent bulbuls, crows, and kites surrounding us. Descending back toward the castle, though, I spotted a trio of Oriental Greenfinches, and then a bird that stopped me in my tracks. “Oh my god,” I said out loud, and hurried forward hoping the bird wouldn’t move. It didn’t, and I got my first look at another bird at the top of my “To See” list: Daurian Redstart!

**This male Daurian Redstart just made my day—and, of course, my life list. I love the blooming sakura flowers behind it.**

As delighted as I was with the redstart, I saved my real birding enthusiasm for the next morning when I left Tessa to hang out and grabbed a cab out to Kenmin Seaside Park, perhaps the only place left on the trip where I might see shorebirds or pelagic species. As soon as I arrived I glimpsed a departing tit of some kind and saw multiple Dusky Thrushes and White-eared Starlings feeding in a field. I hurried past them until I reached my primary destination, the beach. Alas, this was no natural beach. Giant cement breakwaters were piled up offshore and it was clear the area had been heavily worked over by dredging and industry. I saw a few flying birds too distant to identify and a flock of cormorants that took off long before I got close enough to attempt an ID, but that was it. No shorebirds. No waders. Just trash littering an evidently sterile expanse of sand.

**Trash has become a scourge on beaches throughout the planet. I was hoping Japan’s dedication to cleanliness might make this Kanazawa beach an exception, but no dice.**

I nonetheless started trudging my way north, planning to round the tip of the small peninsula and make my way back to the park to try some forest birding. Suddenly, my eyes caught movement. There among the trash, I saw one tiny shorebird, then another. I guessed right away they might be plovers and as I moved closer, the yellow rings around their eyes cinched it: Little Ringed Plovers—another life bird and perhaps my most rewarding Japanese species yet. I wish I could tell you that this find unleashed a flood of shorebird sightings, but no. They were it—two hardy survivors on a desolate beach.

**Definitely some of my favorite birds of the entire trip, this pair of Little Ringed Plovers were the sole shorebirds on the vast desert of beach next to Kenmin Seaside Park.**

Fortunately, the birding got significantly better as I made my way back toward the main park. I picked up two more lifers in quick succession: Meadow Bunting and Asian House-Martin. Back in the forest, I encountered my best mixed flock of the trip, containing Japanese and Varied Tits, two Japanese Pygmy Woodpeckers, a Warbling White-eye, and a Japanese Bush Warbler.

I had to text Braden a photo of this one to know what it was. I had studied Meadow Buntings a number of times, but for some reason the real thing didn’t register.

My time to meet my cab was, unfortunately, running out quickly, but as I hurried along a trail, I noticed three birds foraging under some trees. The first was a Dusky Thrush and I automatically assumed that the others were, too. I was wrong. They were Hawfinches! Braden and I had really hoped to see these odd chubby birds in Amsterdam or Israel in 2019, but to no avail. Now, on the other end of the Asian continent, I was staring at two of them cocking their heads at me in between going about their business. It was a great way to end the morning, and fixed Kanazawa as one of my favorite birding spots in Japan.

Sneed’s Kenmin Seaside Park eBird checklist.

Another Accidental Big Year: Sneed’s 2022 Recap

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FatherSonBirding’s millions of loyal fans will have no doubt noticed a paucity of posts the past few months, and we sincerely apologize, noting the severe nationwide downturn in consumer confidence and the real estate market that this has obviously precipitated. Fortunately, our silence has been a result of good things happening to Braden and me. Braden has been having some exceptional academic experiences during his fall semester at UMaine while I have been kept busy both birding and working on several exciting book projects that have come my way. That said, we’d like to take a couple of posts to wrap up the last few months and, indeed, our entire year of birding. Since Braden is studying for finals, I’ll go first.

Some of you followed my “Accidental Big Year” last year in which I set a new personal best of 352 ABA species during 2021. Believe it or not, I’ve blundered into another accidental Big Year in 2022. How the heck did that happen? I mean, I have definitely underperformed in my home state of Montana this year, notching my lowest total in several years. Fortunately, our trips to New York City and Arizona put me within striking distance. By early October, my count sat at a tantalizing 335 species, only 17 birds short of tying last year’s record, but where would the additional species come from? Some good writing news led to the answer.

This summer, I landed a contract to write about conservation on military bases, with a special focus on Eglin Air Force Base in the Florida panhandle. I chose this base because I spent all of my summers growing up with my father in Pensacola—adjacent to Eglin. Call it nostalgia or a desire to learn more about the area’s species, but I arranged to interview biologists down there to find out what they were doing. First, though, I decided to stop to see my brother in Atlanta, Georgia.

**On my recent trip, I didn’t get photos of my best Atlanta birds, but Tufted Titmice are always a blast to see.**

Honestly, I didn’t know how many new birds I’d see in Atlanta. Migration season was waning, and it was possible warblers and other songbirds had already moved through. In general, they had, but thanks to some intensive studying and tutelage by Braden, I was able to score a number of great birds including a trio of wonderful warblers: Blackpoll, Tennessee, and most exciting, Cape May—a Lifer pour moi.

Leaving Georgia to take up a week-long residence with my stepmother Suzanne and her partner Jim in Milton, Florida, I wondered if I was close enough to top 352 for the year? Unfortunately, I arrived in Florida suffering from my first cold in three years—one I am just now getting over six weeks later. Not how I wanted to begin three consecutive long days of work at Eglin! Nonetheless, I persevered and got a bunch of great information from the base biologists. Oh, and I kept adding up Year Birds! In fact, I couldn’t have asked for a better bird to break my record. As biologist Kelly Jones drove me around teaching me about endangered salamanders, we ran into a group of Red-cockaded Woodpeckers, one of America’s coolest and most unusual birds. These birds became endangered due to the catastrophic loss of longleaf pine ecosystems across the Southeast, but many people have been working to restore both the pines and the woodpeckers. Last I heard, Eglin is home to the nation’s fourth-largest population, but this was the only group I ran into while there.

**Red-cockaded Woodpeckers are the only North American woodpeckers that carve holes in living trees. Apparently, the sap running down the tree trunk helps deter snakes and other potential predators.**

Not wanting to wear out my welcome with Suzanne and Jim, I used the weekend to take a jaunt over to Tallahassee to visit St. Marks National Wildlife Refuge. My dad, a professor at the University of West Florida, led many field trips to St. Marks and always raved about it. More recently, Braden and Nick Ramsey, visited the refuge, seeing among other things a lone flamingo that has lived at the refuge for the past four years. I hoped also to see this bird—dubbed “Pinky”—but kept my expectations low.

**I know they’re common, but I love Red-shouldered Hawks, and this is by far the best photo I’ve ever taken of one.**

Upon arriving, I discovered that St. Marks truly is a magical place—a remnant of “Old Florida” with towering oaks and pristine marshes—and my visit got off to a good start with great views of a Red-shouldered Hawk and Yellow-bellied Sapsucker at the visitor’s center. I asked the local naturalist if anyone had seen Pinky the flamingo lately and she said yes, but didn’t know where, so I decided to head down to Lighthouse Pool and work my way back. As I reached the pond, I happened to glance right. There, in the middle of the pond, stood a large orange blob.

“No way!” I exclaimed, braking to the side of the road as I reached for my binoculars. Sure enough, there stood Pinky—America’s most famous flamingo. Full disclosure: Pinky was not the most exciting bird on the planet, content to just stand there and preen when s/he felt like it. Taking a walk along the southern edge of the pond, however, I picked up lots of other nice Year Birds including Reddish Egret, Tricolored Heron, Short-billed Dowitcher, Semipalmated Plover, and more.

**I’m not sure where Pinky got his name, but to me he looked obviously orange. Still, an official Lifer for me, though I did see American Flamingos thirty years ago in Bonaire.**

My visit to St. Marks was far from finished. As I drove back up the road, I thought I spotted a rail at the East River Pool location. I didn’t—and this was not the first time I’d mistaken a Common Gallinule for a rail! Training my eyes out on the pond, though, my heart picked up. Why? Because way out there among a large group of wading birds, I spotted another Lifer: Wood Stork! Along with Roseate Spoonbills, another Year Bird. My Lifer-palooza hadn’t ended, either. Following Braden’s directions I drove to another part of the refuge to hear my Lifer Clapper Rails.

**This is at least the second time I’ve mistaken a Common Gallinule for a Clapper Rail. I do believe they’re closely related, though, so I hope that you, my dear readers, cut me some slack!**

I returned to Montana with a total of 372 Year Birds and have since picked up a few more, thanks to a fortuitous discovery of Montana’s first Long-tailed Duck of the winter, along with the first Bonaparte’s Gulls I’ve ever seen in Missoula County. These and a Horned Grebe now have me sitting at 375, well in excess of my previous ABA Big Year record. My guess is that I’ll pick up one or two more when Braden gets home in a couple of weeks—though what they might be I have no idea. And you know, it really doesn’t matter. While it’s fun to count birds, it’s even more fun to get out and see them and, hopefully, make some new friends along the way. At St. Marks I met several delightful birders to share my adventures with. I hope that as 2022 draws to a close, you all have your own memorable birding adventures combined with heavy doses of peace and friendship.

My Lighthouse Pool checklist.