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Big Year Wrap-Up 2023

Big Year Wrap-Up 2023

Tundra Swans

Three Tundra Swans fly by against a gray background

Last year I embarked on an incredible journey – my first Big Year competition, sponsored by the San Joaquin Audubon Society. The Big Year is a competition to see as many bird species as possible in one year, and in this case we would be competing within county borders. It proved to be a great way to meet the local birders and to get to know the birding spots here, which was a perfect set-up for newcomers such as myself.

Franklin's Gull

Franklin’s Gull flying while a Ring-billed Gull sleeps. The Franklin’s Gull took multiple attempts to find.

During the year, I experienced many beautiful moments of awe, of being lured into the spell of a rare bird popping by for a day or two. With every rare bird report, I could count on seeing a familiar group of birders later that day as we all rushed out to find the bird. I enjoyed the conversations and friendships that followed.

Because of the Big Year, I went out of my comfort zone by exploring new areas and landed several “lifers” (a bird I’ve never seen before) as a result. I also paid more attention to the birds around me, which undoubtedly aided in my discovery of a Costa’s Hummingbird making my backyard its home. It’s these experiences that I will treasure long after the Big Year is done.

In the end, my husband and I received first place for team effort! We were tied for third in the intermediate category, and placed sixth overall. Not bad for newcomers that were just getting acquainted with an area.

Cooper's Hawk

Cooper’s Hawk spreading its wing to defend against a squirrel (not pictured), 2023

A bucket list item is checked. A new year begins. Now what? After a year of grinding, suddenly I’m left with a feeling of uncertainty of how to bird “normally.” I’ve been focusing on my backyard and observing the bird drama. White-crowned Sparrows establishing a pecking order within their foraging unit, Anna’s Hummingbirds aggressively defending their feeder, and battles between jays and mockingbirds for the prime spot in a tree. There’s been so much to explore within my own backyard, and for now that is bringing me the peace and relaxation I need to wind down from 2023.

Summer’s Last Gasp

Summer’s Last Gasp

Sanderling and Western Sandpipers

Western Sandpiper with one Sanderling, 2020

I’m quite sick of summer. The long, hot days and blindingly bright sun have overstayed their welcome. I’d like to think the birds are annoyed with summer as well. They are mostly silent these days, with the exception of the starlings practicing their cover songs. Birding over the summer has largely been uneventful.

As I trudged through June and July, I kept looking to August for a bit of relief. No, it’s not cooler in August by any means. But the birding excitement starts to pick up – it’s sandpiper migration! These tricky little birds offer an advanced lesson in bird ID, and when you’re in the midst of a Big Year, it’s time to learn (and refresh your memory) fast.

Least Sandpiper

Least Sandpiper, 2020

In San Joaquin County, some of the best shorebird spots are around the Delta and water treatment plants. On mornings or evenings that were “cool” enough, we would venture out to the appropriate habitat and carefully review each peep (little sandpipers). Least Sandpipers and Killdeer offer good anchor points for IDs. The Leasts are the tiniest of our peeps while Killdeer are easily recognizable with the double-rings on their breast, red eyes, and persistent calls. From there, you can compare peeps in question with the Leasts and Killdeer based on size differences, bill shape, breast streaking, and sometimes leg color.

No matter how much I study, I cannot absorb the ID markers of a Semipalmated Sandpiper, which is a sandpiper that we need for the Big Year. It’s strikingly similar to the Western Sandpiper, the subtle differences being its overall size and its bill shape. Other peeps have more defined features to grasp, such as the Pectoral Sandpiper with its larger size and heavily-streaked breast, and the Baird’s Sandpiper with its long primary feathers that uniquely extend beyond its tail. These are solid structural features, not subjective features that require experience with the species – hard to do when it’s rare like the Semipalmated Sandpiper.

After many days spent in the hot sun looking through all the sandpipers, we finally spotted all the expected species that come through the area during August plus some bonus species, including the Semipalmated Sandpiper, Baird’s Sandpiper, Pectoral Sandpiper, Solitary Sandpiper, and Stilt Sandpiper. As the month – and therefore summer – finally comes to an end, our visits to sandpiper habitat will soon shift to looking for warblers and other fall goodies in wooded areas.

This morning was pleasantly cool, and the sun cast an orange glow through the trees. Fall is almost here, and I can’t wait!

Staten Island, 2023

Staten Island, CA, 2023

Pursuit of Violet-Green Swallows

Pursuit of Violet-Green Swallows

It’s the first weekend in March. The birding has slowed down substantially – we are in between winter birds and the upcoming spring migration. I had hoped this would translate into a slower pace for me with a little time to recover from a very busy two months of intense birding, but I’m having no such luck for rest.

My goal this weekend was to find a Violet-green Swallow. These gorgeous swallows, sporting their namesake purple and green plumage, apparently only visit this county for about two months, and now is the time to look for them. It’s a now or never situation, as they won’t show up again for the rest of the year.

The Violet-green Swallows were recently spotted at the Mokelumne Fish Hatchery. Last weekend we drove out there and couldn’t find any swallows, let alone our target bird. So I thought I’d try looking in my part of the county, and today we headed to Ripon to test our luck.

We visited the Ripon Sewage Ponds. Water treatment plants offer awesome birding, even if it does get a bit stinky at times. Thankfully today the chemical fumes were not wafting in our direction, so we spent more time looking over the first two ponds. Recently, an Iceland Gull and a rare Glaucous Gull were spotted in South County, so when I saw a large group of gulls plopped in the middle of the ponds, I spent some time scoping them in hopes of finding a goodie. A few petite Bonaparte Gulls and a Ring-billed Gull were the only deviants from the hundreds of California Gulls. Nothing unusual.

I saw a couple of swallows near the parking lot, but they were the expected Tree Swallows with their blue-green backs. But I had a particular spot in mind to find our target bird. Something was calling me to the end of the four main ponds where the geese like to hang out in a grassy mini-field. 

Dragging my scope and camera with me kept my hands occupied as we walked to the field, so I listened intently to the sounds around me. Sandhill Cranes rattled overhead, a pair of Yellow-billed Magpies called to one another, and a Black Phoebe cheerfully chirped as it snapped bugs out of the air.

Upon reaching the mini field, I found that there were indeed swallows. Score one for intuition! Next was the arduous task of picking out each swallow for review, keeping it in my field of vision while it danced around the air in its acrobatic flight pattern. One by one, I glued my binoculars to a swallow and carefully checked for extensive white in the face and white extending up the sides of the rump to the back. FInding the white is an easier ID feature to pick out amongst the Tree Swallows in flight versus catching the purple and green colors. It felt like a Dr. Seuss book: One Swallow, Two Swallows, Tree Swallow, Four Swallows. All were Tree Swallows chattering to each other. After some time of scanning with no Violet-green Swallows popping up, it was time to call it quits.

That’s the thing with the Big Year. I have “dipped” (missed a bird recently spotted by someone else) so many times I’ve lost count. But you keep on going out, trying each day to get the birds, because today might be that special day when the bird cooperates.

For our efforts, our consolation prize later that day was a South County specialty: a Cassins’ Kingbird spotted, ironically, on Bird Road.