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Chasing Warblers

Chasing Warblers

Chestnut-sided Warbler

Chestnut-Sided Warbler, 2020

My current nemesis bird is the Chestnut-sided Warbler. Each fall, at least one visits the Bay Area when it gets lost from its normal migration route. Despite my best efforts and multiple outings, I seem to keep on missing this one. Then I have to wait another full year before the narrow window of opportunity presents itself again the following fall.

Warblers are usually prized sightings in the spring when their plumage is colorful and vibrant. By the fall, many shed their spring feathers in favor of a duller appearance more conducive to winter activities. Despite that, I’ve really wanted to see this particular warbler in its fall plumage. It doesn’t sport its namesake chestnut sides in the winter, but it has a lovely bright green that spills from the back of its head down its back. Combined with a sharp white eye ring, it’s a fall warbler that looks very unique to me and I have been wanting to witness it in person for years.

Fall migration has been underway and the rare bird alerts and listserv emails have overwhelmed my inbox after a notable summer lull. I’ve been keeping a close look for any signs of a Chestnut-sided Warbler in the notifications, as well as proactively seeking out areas where I think it might pop up. Would 2020 be the year?

Yes – I hope! One was spotted nearby! It was at a new park we’ve never been to. I love chasing after rare birds because it so often introduces me to new local birding spots. This warbler was spotted at a little city park in a nearby city.

After pulling into the parking lot, I was a little skeptical about the prospects of finding the bird. There was a group relaxing with loud old-school hip hop in the parking lot, but no other birders to be spotted (usually identified with binoculars hanging around their necks and poking around the bushes and trees). We got out of the car and sniffed around a bridge where it was said to be located. My husband and I split up and I stayed near the parking lot while he walked down the bridge to explore. There were lots of other birds around –European Starlings and American Robins filling the air with songs, competing with the hip hop – but no Chestnut-sided Warbler.

After a moment, he came back across the bridge and motioned me to join him. Another birder was in fact on the other side and had seen the warbler some time ago. She left, leaving Gabe and I to search on our own. I followed every warbler chip I heard, yielding a Yellow Warbler, Townsend’s Warbler, Orange-crowned Warbler, and several Wilson’s Warblers, but none were our target bird.

Chestnut-sided Warbler

Chestnut-Sided Warbler, 2020

Gabe was the one to finally see it. What a beauty! It sported the lime green head and back with a bold eye ring. What surprised me was how cooperative it was. The warbler allowed us to observe it feeding and got unusually close allowing for great looks. We watched it pluck out insects from the air, on branches, and under fallen leaves on the floor. It was completely focused on gorging on food. We watched the warbler until my legs started to burn from the sun and we left, feeling joyous.

Hermit Warbler

Hermit Warbler, 2020

Pushing our luck, we continued to two additional birding spots. We spotted the rare Northern Waterthrush (this one was not cooperative, only allowing a 15 second look before magically disappearing into the brush), and later came across a very friendly Hermit Warbler. The latter is not rare here, but I’ve only seen one once, rather I heard it way up in a tree in the Sierras. This was my first really good look at a Hermit Warbler, and it was foraging in a similar pattern as the Chestnut-sided Warbler.

I love looking for local and rare warblers in the fall, and what a day this was!

Northern Waterthrush

Northern Waterthrush, 2020

Bar-Tailed Godwits Galore!

Bar-Tailed Godwits Galore!

Bar-Tailed Godwit

Bar-Tailed Godwit, Emeryville, 2019

I wrote about a missed opportunity to see a rare Bar-tailed Godwit this summer. It was one of those heart-breaking trips where your eyes, arms, and fingers are numb from endless hours of combing through a sea of bird look-a-likes, and finally deciding that the target bird may or may not be out there but it’s time to call it a day. We’ve all been there and it’ll happen again.

My unfortunate luck from that trip took a surprising positive turn.

Months later, not only did a Bar-tailed Godwit appear in the Bay Area, but it was hanging out with a Hudsonian Godwit! I opted to leave my camera in the car because the location required climbing up a small cliff that offered ropes to assist the adventurous. It was an exceptionally rare treat to see three godwits together (I’m including the expected Marbled Godwits). I wished that I had a scope, camera, or high-powered binoculars to really absorb their differences.

Fast forward several more weeks, and yet another sighting of a Bar-tailed Godwit appeared on my rare bird alert – in Emeryville, just a hop, skip, and a jump away! This visit offered a very close view of the bird, which allowed me to really study its features as compared with the hundreds of Marbled Godwits that it chose to associate with.

Bar-Tailed Godwit

Bar-Tailed Godwit, Emeryville, 2019

Marbled Godwit

Marbled Godwit, Emeryville, 2019

This winter plumage Bar-tailed Godwit was smaller than the Marbled Godwits, had a white breast compared with the buffy tones of the marbled, and had straight black-and-white barring on its tail (hence the name) that was covered by a layer of black primary feathers. The easiest feature to see in a tight crowd of godwits was the white chest and body, which is how this individual was located that afternoon.

Each time I see a rare bird, it makes me more aware of what I don’t know and how much I have to learn in this field. For one thing, I will be scanning godwits more carefully here on out.

My Birding Day – The Race to See a Rare Bird

My Birding Day – The Race to See a Rare Bird

Summer is a dull time for birding. The birds are quiet and it’s hot with a migraine-inducing sun glare. That’s why I was excited for an upcoming Ohlone Audubon Society field trip in the cooler evening – the first field trip in a while. Shorebird migration is starting up and the trip would bring us to the bay. I was super excited to learn more about peeps and sandpipers from the experts.

My stomach had other mischievous plans.

Too weak to go birding, I resigned myself to birding a local spot with less walking. I struggled with the disappointment of missing out on the trip.

At home, I hesitantly scanned Facebook and rare bird alerts hoping I didn’t miss out on anything cool. The alerts starting pouring in by the evening. Bar-tailed Godwit. Damn. These Alaskan breeders spend the rest of their time in Russia and Scandinavia. What a bummer bird to miss!

Each day I carefully read through the rare bird alerts, noting the time, the bird’s preference for high tide, various locations she was spotted, and her behavior. I hoped that she would continue to be there until Friday – the first opportunity I would have to stop by.

Friday came and I carefully crafted the day so that we would end up at Hayward Regional Shoreline between 4-5 PM. That’s when the earliest checklists started. High tide would peak around 7:30 PM. We were set. After a morning and mid-afternoon in the Fremont area, we drove up towards Hayward.

“Did you grab the tripod?” I asked Gabe?

“Yup!”

“How about the scope?”

“Yup! Wait, scope? Where was the scope?” Crap. I forgot to put the scope with the rest of the birding supplies. How can we look for shorebirds without a scope? I reasoned with myself that there would be plenty of other birders with scopes available to peek through.

We arrived at Hayward Regional Shoreline, geared up, and rushed over to Frank’s Dump. There wasn’t much there except a few gulls. Then some peeps showed up! But oh dear, I can’t see anything with the binoculars. They were too far away. I feel the swell of disappointment again and I sat down and pouted as I grappled with next steps. I finally agreed to take Gabe’s advice to try out a different pond nearby. On the way there, I saw a birder off in the distance. A scope, oh good! Hey wait, is that Jerry?

We ran into our local birder celebrity. We were bound to find this godwit!

He pointed out a Snowy Plover family. He found us a Red Knot, a lifer. And we scanned and scanned and scanned the hundreds of willets, dowitchers, and Marbled Godwits for that one special lady. After a while, Jerry left since he had already been birding there for three hours prior to our meeting. No Bar-tailed Godwit had been found yet, but he thought that she might fly in by high tide.

The waves broke against the rocks and splashed our clothes. I was suddenly very aware that I only had my sun shirt on with no jacket to help against the cooling air. I was also starting to regret my decision to leave my regular prescriptions glasses in the car, opting instead to wear my sunglasses. That made birding harder as the sun went down.

Arms stiff from holding binoculars up to our eyes, cold and clammy from the sea spray, and hair tangled into a rat’s nest from the heavy winds, we started to grow weary. The birds were all blending together into a muddled mess of grays and browns.  Small groups kept joining the crowd which forced us to rescan the entire area. After two more hours of scanning, we threw in the towel and headed towards the car.

The godwit was never spotted again. We missed her by a day. At least it gave us a good story to tell!

Chasing the Harris’s Sparrow

Chasing the Harris’s Sparrow

It was the first warm, sunny day in months. I reluctantly slathered on sunscreen, loathing the oily liquid on my skin but knowing that I would be fried to a crisp without it. Binoculars in place, camera ready, energy bar in pocket, we were ready to chase after the rare Harris’s Sparrow.

After getting tips from a birder returning to his car, we set out in the Diablo Foothills to scan all the flocks of Golden-crowned Sparrows, knowing that our target bird was associating with a group of them. I was delighted to see Lark Sparrows, which is not a common sight for me. Their boldly striped face is unique and I was distracted by them for quite a while.

Lark Sparrow

Lark Sparrow, 2019

Another birder joined the search, as is often the case when an unusual visitor arrives, and we split up locations to improve our chances of finding the sparrow. I kept on going back to a picnic area that was calling to me. But after multiple visits to that area, I headed towards another spot that was conveniently located near the restrooms. Our new birder friend stayed at the picnic area. Wouldn’t you know, after we left the little guy showed up! I saw the big camera lens come out and that was my cue to race back to the picnic area. I got there just in time to see it fly off to a distant tree.

Harris's Sparrow

Harris’s Sparrow, 2019

I easily spotted the sparrow, who relaxed between leaves. What a beautiful little bird! It had a brilliant white chest with black smudges at the top along with black on its chin and part of its head. I was entranced by its beauty, so much so that I watched it long after our birder friend left. I only stopped watching because it eventually flew away and I lost track of him.

Happy, we went back to the car and shared its location with a birder hoping to catch a glimpse of our rarity. I hope he was able to find it.

Non-Native Birds of SoCal

Non-Native Birds of SoCal

Egyptian Goslings, Orange County, 2011

I grew up in Orange County but didn’t get into birding until after I moved to the Bay Area, so I always enjoy our visits with OC family. In the last several years I’ve witnessed new birds flocking to SoCal. Many of these species look quite exotic with brightly-colored bills, unique feather patterns, or long tails. They can be found in various parks and neighborhoods.

Mandarin Duck Pair, Orange County, 2016

My sister and I began our birding adventures many years ago and we enjoy swapping stories, as she lives in Orange County and I in the Bay Area. I recall one day receiving a text from my sister when she was in LA. The message read something like this: “OMG what the **** is THIS?!?!?” Moments later, I received a picture of a strange robin-sized bird with a dark back, white front, and very distinctive facial coloring. But what stood out the most was the sharply-pointed crest on its head. Not being well-versed in bird anatomy at the time, I searched for “bird with pointed feathers on head” on Google. After sifting through countless images, I found it: the red-whiskered bulbul. At the time we figured it was an escapee from a zoo. Little did I know that this Asian species was slowly establishing itself in LA.

Scaly-Breasted Munia, Orange County, 2018

One of the first non-native species I personally saw in Orange County was the scaly-breasted munia. Also known as the nutmeg mannikin, these tiny birds made their way over here from Asia. I was in SoCal this weekend and watched these little creatures dance in the grass and fly across the field with long sticks of wispy plants to another location presumably to build a nest.

Bronze Mannikins, Orange County, 2018

Alongside the scaly-breasted munia were bronze mannikins. Similar in size to the munias, these little ones hail from Africa. These birds have a distinctively dark head, brown back, and bright white breast/underparts. Apparently both these birds are captured for the pet trade.

Pin-Tailed Whydah, Orange County, 2018

Other non-native species in Orange County include the Japanese white eye with its heavy bold white eye ring, the pin-tailed whydah with its orange beak and long black tail, and the Egyptian goose with deeply pink legs and chocolate melting around its eye.

While non-native species certainly catch the eye, I always take time to appreciate and admire our local birds. More on that in another post.

A Case for Patience

A Case for Patience

There is no “right” way to go birding.  You can take a short stroll, relax on your porch, hike, drive (but don’t get too distracted by the birds!), bike, boat, kayak, you name it. Personally, I enjoy slower-paced walks or hikes that allow me to not only look for birds, but also listen for their vocalizations and observe their behaviors in more depth. An added bonus is that I get to enjoy general nature more – flowers, butterflies, fallen leaves, insects, spiders, and tree bark patterns all command my attention while birding.

Take a moment to observe nature. I enjoyed these fall-colored leaves during a stroll, 2011.

It’s worth taking a moment to pause and take in your surroundings. For those of us living in a bustling city, it helps to counteract urban frenzy by lingering in one location and letting your senses take over. I’ve had several birding trips where this led to finding rare birds or observing interesting behaviors with the usual suspects. One story in particular comes to mind to illustrate this point.

This week, my husband and I were slowly walking through one of my favorite parks down a paved trail. I’ve walked this trail countless times and have a good idea of where certain birds hang out. On this particular day, we noticed a flurry of activity in the redwoods. Instead of conducting our usual quick scan before moving on, we stopped and examined each and every bird that popped into our vision. The majority of the birds were the energetic Townsend’s warblers and chestnut-backed chickadees. Brown creepers emerged and I watched them spiral up trunks digging for insects on the bark. After about 15 minutes of observing, I noticed a bird that upon first glance I thought was yet another brown creeper, except it seemed more boldly patterned. Focusing my binoculars onto the bird, I realized it was covered in heavy black-and-white stripes all over its head and body – an aptly-named black-and-white warbler! Quick, take pictures, this is a rarity for this area! We stayed in this spot for nearly an hour excited to watch a bird that does not live around here. Patience and careful scanning sure paid off.

Black-And-White Warbler, 2018. A rare visitor to the West Coast. I was not prepared to take a picture of a bird that is constantly moving in low light, hence the blur. Lesson learned for the future!