A White-winged Scoter in Kalkaska County

It was an ordinary late September morning.

Pipits called overhead, undulating inexorably south. Kinglets squeaked in the pines. Blue Jays streamed across the unblemished sky. I had manhandled a kayak from the beach to Louie’s Pond in hopes of flushing a bittern—or heck, maybe a LeConte’s Sparrow—from the dense stands of rushes. No luck—but I couldn’t be disappointed with such an exquisite autumn day.

I dragged the kayak back to the beach and made the obligatory scan of Big Twin Lake, expecting only Ring-billed Gulls. I spotted a dark bird near the other side of the lake—an anomaly. I leaned against a tree to steady my arms. The bird looked chocolaty with a large white patch on the wing. White-winged Scoter?!

It was too distant to be sure. I glanced at my watch—10:00. I had to be at my teaching station in forty-five minutes, and in the meantime I had to pack a lunch, don my French fur-trader costume, and review the lesson plan. Crap, this will be tight, I thought as I jumped in the kayak and paddled like a caffeinated Red Squirrel toward the suspicious duck.

I made the half-mile in just over five minutes and found myself drifting alongside the culprit—which was, indeed, a White-winged Scoter. Shoot…wish I could document it, I lamented internally. Then I remembered the iPod in my pocket. The images are sub-mediocre but diagnostic.

There is only one other eBird record for the species in the county, a female at Rugg Pond in April 2014. Of course, Kalkaska County is woefully underbirded, so I imagine it is an intermittent visitor on the larger lakes.

Uncropped image--scoter off the bow! 

Paint Me Amazed

I enjoy birding obscure, underbirded spots. Sure, it's fun to find rare stuff at overrated places like Huntington Central Park, but it's even more fun to find some rare bird miles from the nearest parking lot (I, mounted on my bike, can probe much more deeply into large chunks of habitat than the birder stuck with a car.) So, when I called Doug Willick to tell him about the Painted Redstart I found yesterday, I said, "Bet you can't guess where I found it."

"Ummm... Holy Sepulcher Cemetery?" Doug guessed.

"Nope... Upper Silverado Canyon." I replied.

"What are you doing way up there?" Doug demanded.

Fact is, I was innocently going about my business in Upper Silverado Canyon, trying to get Townsend's Solitaire for my county list, when a Painted Redstart popped up right in front of me. It was about the last thing I was expecting to see up there. Painted Redstarts, which barely extend up into the United States into Arizona and New Mexico, show up annually in California. Orange County has a decent number of records--fifteen or so. However, all those (I believe) were from the lowlands, in boring places like Huntington Central Park.

On a late date like Novemeber 20th, I would expect that the bird would be wintering here. That would certainly make sense if the bird were in the lowlands, but temperatures in Upper Silverado Canyon dip below freezing, and some winters snow falls. Painted Redstarts aren't the hardiest birds in the world. Will it stay? We'll see.



I must say, this Painted Redstart was one of the more satisfying rare birds I've found this fall. It combines rarity with stunning looks. Who couldn't love those flashy, contrasting reds, whites, and blacks, combined with the redstart's flamboyant personality? Put this beautiful bird in an absolutely stunning setting that very few people ever bird, and you get an awesome rare bird experience.



I've done more birding than is healthy the last couple days. I'll try to get some photos of the other birds I've seen up soon.

"Sounds like a Bar-tailed Godwit!"

Probably nothing. Nothing at all. Just a weird Marbled Godwit. My brain screamed at me to keep going and look for those Burrowing Owls that I was so desperate to see on the other side of Upper Newport Bay, but something made me turn around and take one quick look.

The bird stood there, looking so much like a Marbled Godwit that had gone through the wash. HOLY RABBIT FEMUR, THAT'S NOT A MARBLED GODWIT... IT'S A FLIPPING BAR-TAILED!! I immediately began trying to convince myself otherwise. I know next to nothing about Bar-tailed Godwits; it's an Asian bird that I've seen exactly one of. I barely knew what they looked like.

No, it's gotta be a weird Marbled, I thought. My mind raced. Leucistic Marbled. Bleached, been out in the sun too much. What do juvenile Marbled Godwits look like?

But if it was a Marbled, why did it have a bold supercilium? Why was it all grayish, with no buffy or cinnamon coloration anywhere? Why did have such strongly patterned upperparts, with almost silvery coverts? And, why did it have a barred black-and-white tail?

Because it was a Bar-tailed Godwit. I panicked.

I pulled out my phone and called Doug Willick. Apparently he has gotten so acclimated to me calling him about rare birds that he answered his phone with a terrified-sounding, "Uh-oh!" After listening to my description, Doug said, "Sounds like a Bar-tailed Godwit!" Doug also surprised me by saying it would be a first county record. I knew they were rare, but not that rare! I was nervous about calling it a Bar-tailed, given my lack of experience, so I chalked it up as a "possible Bar-tailed" until I could get expert confirmation.

Doug was about half and hour away, birding along the Upper Santa Ana River (where else? I probably woke him up from his sleep under his favorite bridge!) He spread the word to other Orange County birders--Brian Daniels, Jim Pike, Leo Ohtsuki, Robert McNab, and even Jon Dunn, who happened to be in town. They all converged on the spot. At the moment, my job was to stay on the bird.

I had at least half and hour until people started showing up, so I called my friend John Garrett with some questions about godwit identification. Fortunately, he had some shorebird books handy. "Sounds like a Bar-tailed Godwit!" he said after I finished my description.

The bird moved up the San Diego Creek under the Jamboree Road bridge, but I kept close tabs on it until Doug showed up. Doug doesn't know much more about Bar-tailed Godwits than I do, so together we puzzled over the bird. Sure, it looked good for a Bar-tailed, but neither of us had enough experience with the species to call it for sure. Fortunately, others started trickling in, including several birders who were very familiar with Bar-tailed Godwits. It was quickly confirmed. Handshakes, high-fives, and back-pounds all around.

More and more birders accumulated. It was turning into an informal meeting of the county's top birders. We followed the bird out from under the bridge into the open at the edge of the bay, where it gave excellent, close-up views to everyone. Discussing raged about primary extenstion, tertails, and the color of the fringing on the scapulars. Me? I could (barely) follow the conversation, but I enjoyed soaking in the bird, glad that I hadn't screwed up the identification. After a couple hours of watching the bird, we alternately gazed at the bird through our scopes and chatted about Bar-tailed Godwit records in southern California (this was only about the 6th in Southern California), that Painted Redstart at Mason Regional Park, and how Orange County needs a Hudsonian Godwit next. People began drifting away, only to be replaced by excited newcomers.

I finally drifted away myself after about three hours of watching the bird. I wish I could have stayed longer, but (1) I was starving (no food save one of those life-saving Chewy Chocolate Chip Snack Bars since breakfast), (2) I wanted to check Mason Regional park for that Painted Redstart on my way home, and (3) I had to be home by dark. As I pedaled away, I could barely believe what had just happened. I found a Bar-tailed Godwit. A Bar-tailed Godwit!

Not a bad day at all.

Here are some more photos:



Bar-tailed (front) and Marbled (back) Godwits



My best photo.



Bar-tailed (right) and Marbled (left) Godwits.



Bar-tailed in flight.

What the heck?!

I don't like birding in the afternoon at all. I still do it, though, out of a sense of duty. I spent a few hours this afternoon puttering around the Holy Sepulcher Cemetery and Santiago Oaks Regional Park by bike. Migrants, the very objects of my searching, were practically nonexistent. I finally pedaled home, hot and discouraged. I was riding through my neighborhood when a medium-sized, grayish brown bird with white tips at the end of the tail flushed off the side of the road and into some bushes. It reminded me of a Lark Sparrow, so I paused to take a second look.



What the heck?! Woah, that's no Lark Sparrow. The extensive streaking on the underparts immediately caught my eye. I quickly realized that it was a Sage Thrasher, a rare bird in the county! The bird flitted out of the bushes and flew into a nearby patch of bushes before flying out and landing on the arena fence near the end of my street.



Surprisingly, the bird allowed close approach and I got some decent photos as it rested in good light on top of the fence. It flew around the large grassy area at the end of my street for several more minutes before taking off for good. I could still barely believe my luck. This species is a rare migrant in the county; The Birds of Orange County lists only nine records in the county, though I'm sure several more have accumulated since the book's publication. Not unexpectedly, it was a new county bird for me, and also a new Bigby bird.



This just goes to show how important it is to keep your eyes open. Check any unusual-looking birds! I never expected to see a Sage Thrasher in my neighborhood (the habitat is all wrong), but one showed up anyway.