Legs

While navigating the narrow, twisting road into Starr Ranch at some ungodly hour this morning, I realized with a start that it has been at least a year since I banded there. That is a pity, since banding provides a unique way to get intimate with birds while contributing to science and your own knowledge. It was a good morning of banding with 28 new birds banded, 13 recaptured, and 5 released unbanded.



This recaptured Common Yellowthroat had something funky going on with its head, with that orange coloration on the face...jokingly, we said that it beat some of the legitimate Orange-crowned Warblers for that title, but, it really was true!

Speaking of Orange-crowned Warblers, we banded six and recaptured one more. Many were hatch-year birds, easily recognized by their yellowish gapes, buff-tinged wing bars, and loose, fluffy feathering on the underparts. This individual boasted an unusual feature that also identified it as a youngster--a fault bar across the tail. These are formed when the growth of feathers is retarded or stopped during a period of food shortage. For some reason or another, this bird didn't have adequate food one day--maybe it was raining, and the parents couldn't gather enough food, or its nestmates trampled it underfoot and beat it to the food.



Speaking of growing feathers, this Hutton's Vireo was doing some hardcore molting. Note the contrast between the old outer primaries, which appear pale and tattered, and the new secondaries, which are darker and more pristine. Also, one feather (p2) is still in its sheath. This probably indicates that this bird is done breeding, since, as any bird will tell you, the simultaneous stresses of breeding and molting are not conducive to survival.



Speaking of, uh, birds, here's one of the Song Sparrows we handled today. With sedentary species such as this, we seldom catch new birds except for juveniles. This axiom held true today--we banded one new bird but processed four recaptures.



Speaking of brown, streaky birds, we banded two species of finches that often frustrate and foil birders: Purple and House. And, as this photo proves, classic field marks are not always reliable. Purple Finches are supposed to have straighter culmens than House Finches. Well, check out these birds. Sure, in direct comparison to the House Finch, the Purple may have a slightly straighter culmen, but, on a lone bird, I believe birders are universally screwed until someone invents a culmometer. Eastern birds are easier, with their more prominent white eyebrows, but note the considerably chunkier, bull-headed, grosbeak-like Purple (left) with the more svelte House (the opposite of left).



Speaking of identification problems, Black Phoebes pose none whatsoever (except the occasional confusion with Black-necked Stilts, but I won't dwell on that). Remember about that whippersnapper Orange-crowned with the cinnamon wing bars? Well, hatch-year Black Phoebes have them too. (As do Northern Rough-winged Swallows, California Thrashers, Pacific-slope Flycatchers, and many others...what's going on here?!) Also, check out those pale outer webs on the outer retrices, a characteristic shared with several other flycatchers (Eastern Phoebe, Vermilion...)



Speaking of outer retrices, it's late; I'm going to bed.

Beyond Cute

I think it would be impossible for any person with a heart to walk past this bird without exclaming "Awwwwww... it's so cute!" There is, in fact, a reason for that. The bird is cute. Majorly so. What defines its cuteness? Those wide, black eyes? The tiny size of the bird? Don't ask. It's just cute. Very unscientific, but it's true.

But... what is it? It wouldn't take very long for the average birder to come to the conclusion that it is a flycatcher, more specifically one of those cursed empidonax. Some of the species in this tribe are olive-gray, and several others are gray-olive. The sensible birder would shrug and turn away. The foolish one would actually attempt to identify it, doomed to eternity of staring at wing bars, tertial fringes, emarginated primaries...

Fortunately, it isn't quite that bad. Subtle differences between the various species exist, but it takes the observant birder to find them. Thankfully, almost all of the species have unique calls. Range can also narrow down the options. In southern California, the default empid in the lowlands is the Pacific-slope Flycatcher (incidentally, I find this a very cool name. I always think of a little flycatcher sliding down the hypotenuse of a 30-60-90 triangle into the Pacific Ocean... I need to take it easy on the geometry!) These diminutive balls of fluff are adorable and harmless in our eyes, but in the eyes of small insects they are terrible predators. In the hand, they try to intimidate the bander by snapping their bill loudly. The only result of this action is usually laughter from the bander.

Right - I banded this bird today at Starr Ranch. Its wing was 59 millimeters long; it weighed 9.4 grams; it had a fat score of one. I aged it as a hatch-year - those wing bars aren't just buff; they're pumpkin buff. This feature, along with the overall fuzziness of the bird (especially around the undertail coverts and belly), the brownish wash over the upperparts, and the slightly swollen gape (dubbed the "baby-gape") aged it as a hatch-year. I wondered how long it will live. Will it make it to the end of the day? A year? Five years? Who knows. That's one reason why we're banding them.

A Red-Letter Day at Starr...

One thing I've sorely missed since moving out to California is regular bird banding at Metrobeach Metropark in Michigan. I assisted with the banding there as often as humanly possible, and learned vast amounts about bird identification, aging, and sexing. The only banding operation in Orange County is at Starr Ranch, and up to today I had been rather disappointed by it. It seemed that every time I went banding there we set a new record for least number of birds banded in a day. That changed today, much to my delight.

Today was the second MAPS (Monitering Avian Productivity and Survivorship) banding day of the season (I missed the first when I was in Texas). I jumped out of bed at four a.m., despite having gotten only five hours of sleep. As my dad and I walked out to the car, a couple migrating Swainson's Thrushes called as they winged north over our house. A good sign, I thought. Migrants were moving.

We bumped our way into Starr Ranch at 5:15 a.m. My dad dropped me off at the lab. The trees and ridges were still mostly concealed by gray dawn gloom. A couple Common Poorwills called nearby. Once we had all assembled, the other banders (Justin, Debbie, Barbara, Matt, Al, Janet, and Carol) and I loaded up into a couple four by fours and set out for the MAPS station. The station is located in a remote area two miles down a rocky "road" from the lab. Starr Ranch boasts some of Orange County's most gorgeous landscape - acres and acres of rugged terrain, free of traffic noise, congestion, and development that is so prevalent in Orange County.

We unfurled the nets as the grayness lifted. Our first bird of the day was a Swainson's Thrush (pictured above); they were all over the place. We banded at least fifteen of them, and I saw several unbanded ones in the banding area. Debbie, Justin, and I were checking some of the nets on the first net run when Justin's radio suddenly screeched:

"JU-crackle-crackle... Barbara-CRACKLE-crack...HAWk-SCREEEEECH-crackle net eleven-crackle-CRACKLE-snap"

Justin quickly took his leave to help while Debbie and I finished checking the nets. Sure enough, we had caught a gorgeous adult Cooper's Hawk. Unfortunately, we didn't have any bands large enough to put on it and had to release it unbanded.


We kept catching lots of birds, including more Swainson's Thrushes, Pacific-slope Flycatchers, and Oak Titmice. Migrants put in a good appearance, and we caught several species of warblers. We banded one brilliant Townsend's Warbler.


Even more excitement lay in wait for us. A couple Wilson's Warblers showed up in the nets, along with a Warbling Vireo. However, my favorite banded bird of the day was this MacGillivray's Warbler, one of two we banded. Surprisingly, these may be the first ones ever banded at Starr Ranch.


As the mercury on our portable thermometer rose, bird captures tapered off. We were forced to close a few nets exposed to the sun. Around 11:30 a.m. we closed up shop and headed out. We handled forty-nine birds, an excellent total for Starr Ranch. It was nice to handle birds again after a several-month long hiatus!