On the proliferation of Eurasian Collared-Doves in Orange County

A Eurasian Collared-Dove in Anaheim on Sunday

Orange County is different every time I visit. New housing developments encroach ever deeper into the hills. Trees are "trimmed" (read: mutilated) further and further into oblivion. And there are always more Eurasian Collared-Doves. 

This is going to make me sound old, but here goes. I remember when things were different. There was a time when Eurasian Collared-Doves were not common in Orange County. When I moved here in 2007, they were downright difficult to find. Over the last few years, they've become commonplace. In fact, I saw one the other day a mere mile from my house. I predict that I will soon add this species to my almost legendary Hood List. 

This expansion is hardly surprising, given hemispheric trends for this species. Want a good laugh? Check out the dove's map in the original Sibley. It is rapidly expanding west, east, north, south. "Collared-Dove," I told Joel as we crossed the Michigan-Indiana state line in early January, "Will probably be the first new species we see." Sure enough, dozens greeted us at a rest stop in central Illinois. Their coos serenaded us at every piss stop across the country--Missouri, Oklahoma, New Mexico, Arizona, California. Then we flew to Mexico--and there, too, the streets echoed with their calls. And they were verminous in the Dominican Republic. I just can't get away from them.

Let us consider their conquest of Orange County. First, courtesy of eBird, here is an overview of their North American range.

This next map shows Eurasian Collared-Dove records in southern California up to the year 2005.Very sparse in Orange County, with greater numbers up north towards Los Angeles.

Fast forward to 2011. Things are filling in slowly in Orange County, though the species seems to be increasing rapidly up north in Los Angeles County and in western Riverside County.

And finally, all records up to the present (red pins indicate records from the past month.) Explosion. Blietzkrieg. The Collared-Dove has conquered Orange County. 

Using eBird to track the expansion of this species may be deceptive, since the dove's invasion of Orange County coincided (or slightly preceded) the widespread adoption of eBird by birders. Fortunately, Christmas Bird Count data for Orange County is readily available online (thanks, Sea and Sage Audubon). The data support my general impressions that (1) Eurasian Collared-Doves first began appearing in Orange County in roughly 2005, and (2) that the population has rapidly increased since then--particularly since about 2010.

In past decades, a different dove reigned in Orange County--the Spotted Dove. They were abundant through the 90's (the 1990 Coastal CBC recorded upwards of 250), but their population crashed. The last surviving Spotted Doves overlapped with the pioneering Collared-Doves in the early 2000's. It is fun to speculate about the rise and fall of two nonnative doves in Orange County--did the Collars drive out the Spots? At least in the context of Orange County, I find this hard to believe--by the time the Collared-Doves showed up, the Spotted Doves had already been gone for years. But, who knows? 

And will the Eurasian Collared-Dove share the Spotted Dove's fate in Orange County? I doubt it--I foresee the dove expanding further, saturating the county--nay, the country-- interminably.

Summer: Sewage, Shorebirds...

Pumping my legs furiously, I crest the hill. Underpasses are short but steep; my quads tingle as I crank into higher gear and lazily peddle onward. Wiping the sweat from my forehead, I lean back and stop peddling, allowing momentum to carry the bike forward. I lift up my jersey to feel the cool breeze on my bare chest. Ahhhh—it’s a perfect summer morning: warm, but not uncomfortably so, the sun already high in a completely clear sky.

It would be beautiful, except for the setting.

I glance to my right and behold the mighty San Diego Creek. Creek is a misnomer; it is a large concrete ditch with a trickle of trash (and maybe a bit of water) fermenting in the bottom. Plastic bottles, shopping carts, and algae mats top the menu. The only sign of life is a band of ragged Mallards sifting through the goo. Two dead ones fester in a puddle nearby. I pause and stare at the puddle. I can’t decide whether it’s green or black.

Not only is it an eyesore; this lovely stew smells exactly the way you would imagine it to.

I’ve become accustomed to the sight, smell, and taste of the creek. In fact, I’ve embraced it as a worthy birding spot. Hooded Mergansers often winter in this particular puddle, and migrant shorebirds sometimes stop on the radioactive heaps of slime.

Shorebirds! It’s July, a supposedly boring time of year to go birding. The breeders have been around long enough to become wearisome, and nothing is migrating. Well…not actually. Shorebirds begin sneaking south by mid-June, and by early July the beaches and mudflats swarm with them. They’re not pristine juveniles; the worn adults dominate the scene until mid-August. Still, I enjoy sorting through the battered adults. Each one is unique. This Willet has replaced most of the feathers on the breast, and that one has retained extensive barring…

My ponderings are broken when a tiny sandpiper bursts from a pool of sludge. Breeep? It asks as it careens down the creek. Least Sandpiper! As I watch it disappear down the channel, I try to imagine it on the tundra. Boasting crisp alternate plumage, perhaps it strutted beside an ice-choked pond in hopes of attracting the perfect female. Perhaps it frantically scolded and fluttered by its nest, attemping to distract a lumbering caribou, or polar bear, or shorebird researcher…

But now it’s puttering around a pathetic ditch in the heart of Orange County.

It’s summer. It’s shorebird season.

Drip, drip

Rain! So many people in other parts of the country take it for granted, but here in Southern California, it is a welcome rarity. It rained most of last week (thankfully, clearing up so I could do some birding on Saturday) and today we've gotten more. So far, most of the county has gotten at least several inches of rain this year. I thought I'd stick up a few photos of the rain and what it did to some of the channels (including the normally tranquil Yellowthroat Creek) around here...

Looking Back

Last year was a wonderful year of birding (yeah, I saw a ton of coots.) I was originally planning to do one of these pointless "Looking Back at Last Year" or "Top Ten Experiences of 2008" at the end of December, but I easily found more worthwhile wastes of time. So, now that January is half over, I thought I'd dive back into the past.

I took several exotic or semi-exotic birding trips last year - South Texas (awesome!), San Francisco, Humboldt County, and Minnesota. I also made too many short but memorable trips to remember. However, in this post I'd like to concentrate on a more local subject: my Bigbying adventures of 2008.

I spent lots of time last year working on my Bigby list, and all that time paid off: I found two hundred and thirty-six species. In reality, this isn't that long of a list - I saw nearly as many species in five days in Texas - but every single one of those species was found in Orange County by biking or walking from my house. At the start of the year, I was hoping for one hundred fifty tops. Then, in February, I discovered the joy of long-distance Bigbying; I easily skimmed past the two hundred mark in late May with several rides to the coast. Over the year, I rode to distant places such as San Joaquin Wildlife Sanctuary, Upper Newport Bay, Bolsa Chica, and Crystal Cove State Park.

Despite my hard work, a few species stubbornly refused to be added to my Bigby list. A few in particular stand out. Here are the top ten "misses" on my 2008 Bigby list:

1. Pectoral Sandpiper (ugh - present most of the fall at San Joaquin!)
2. Lawrence's Goldfinch (ouch)
3. Black Tern
4. Greater White-fronted Goose (seen at Upper Newport Bay the day before I rode there in November)
5. Black-chinned Sparrow (I undoubtedly could have found this one if I had taken some long hikes in the hills above Irvine Regional Park)
6. Baird's Sandpiper
7. Mew Gull
8. Reddish Egret
9. Jaegers of any flavor
10. Vagrant warblers of any flavor apart from Chestnut-sided and Pine

Now, because that was so depressing, here are my best ten Bigby finds of 2008:

1. Tropical Kingbird (San Joaquin Wildlife Sanctuary, Irvine)
2. Pine Warbler (Estancia Park, Costa Mesa)
3. Chestnut-sided Warbler (Irvine Regional Park, Orange)
4. Baltimore Oriole (My neighborhood, Orange)
5. Yellow-headed Blackbird (Peters Canyon Regional Park, Orange)
6. Cackling Goose (North Lake, Irvine)
7. Gull-billed Tern (San Joaquin Wildlife Sanctuary, Irvine)
8. Yellow-bellied Sapsucker (Santiago Oaks Regional Park, Orange)
9. Varied Thrush (Irvine Regional Park, Orange)
10. Gray Flycatcher (Peters Canyon Regional Park, Orange)

Of course, I'm keeping a Bigby list again this year. Currently it is at one thirty-two. Last year's number will be difficult to beat - I'm not sure I'll be able to pull it off. However, I'll do my best! Tomorrow I am planning on chasing by bike a couple difficult species for Orange County, Vermilion Flycatcher and Ferruginous Hawk. A lot of common species, like this Barn Owl, also are not on my new Bigby list... yet.