Recent Stuff

My neglect of this blog continues. The culprits are, as usual, inordinate amounts of time spent on school and birding. Ah well. I figured I'd post up a few recent photos.

First of all, can you find the bird in the photo above? Probably not, because the picture is of a Brown Creeper, the master of camouflage. Though common fare back in my old home state of Michigan, they are scarce enough in Orange County to merit mention. I saw this one at Mile Square Park last Saturday. It wasn't the only decent bird I saw that day. I rode my bike a total of fifty-three miles that day, cleaning up on rarities around the lower Santa Ana River found on the Christmas Bird Count.

The first rare bird I chased that day (well, not exactly the first, since I stopped by Twin Lakes Park to tick the resident Ross's Goose) was a Palm Warbler wintering in a small nursery in Huntington Beach. It's not the kind of place you'd expect to find a rare bird (or any bird for that matter) wintering, but apparently the gravel and spindly potted plants are attractive to this particular Palm Warbler.



Even more interesting was an adult male Orchard Oriole which I managed to track down on sort-of-private property in Costa Mesa. It's one of those birds that combines rarity with good looks. Surprisingly, Orchard Orioles show up fairly frequently in southern California (Orange County gets one almost every year, and San Diego County has had almost a dozen this winter!), even though their normal wintering range is thousands of miles away. This photo is barely worth posting...



The Brown Creeper was not the only unusual bird I saw at Mile Square Park last Saturday. A suite of rare birds--Yellow-bellied Sapsucker, Greater White-fronted Goose, American Redstart, and Black-and-white Warbler--had been found there on the Christmas Bird Count. I enjoyed excellent success, finding all except the sapsucker. None were terribly cooperative for photography--the Black-and-white was foraging very low in some pines, but it never emerged from the dark gloom of the interior of the trees.



To balance the terrible photos I've already posted, here's a half-way decent shot of a Black Phoebe from Mile Square Park. Though omnipresent in Orange County, it's one of my favorite birds.



Birding while sweating over calculus is always a joy. While wrestling with an integrating-by-guessing problem last week, I heard the distinctive clear call of a Northern Flicker resounding from the backyard. Flickers aren't very common in my neighborhood, so I took a peek out the window. The bird dropped out a tree and onto the backyard fence, but something was wrong--its wings flashed golden yellow, not red. Oooh, a Yellow-shafted Flicker? The bird turned its head, showing the red nape--a characteristic of Yellow-shafts. However, its face was mostly gray, and its malar was dark red. Hmmmmm. Looks like we've got an intergrade on our hands.



Saturday was devoted to bird banding. Or, more accurately, sitting around the kitchen at Starr Ranch wondering where all the birds were. It was an incredibly slow day. The only birds we caught were two Anna's Hummingbirds (which had to be released unbanded), singles of California and Spotted Towhees, and...a Turkey Vulture! The vulture provided the excitement of the day. It had swooped down into the meadow, around which our nets are situated, to feast on a putrid gopher. For some reason it decided to take the gopher somewhere else to eat, so it took off with the gopher in its bill and promptly slammed into one of our mist nets. The nets are designed to catch birds no larger than about a robin, so it quickly managed to tear its way out, leaving behind a juicy dead gopher and copious amounts of nauseating vulture vomit. The stench was so revolting that I nearly vomited myself; it ranks up there among the worst smells I've ever experienced.

With so few birds around to band, I puttered around the kitchen (our makeshift banding lab) with my camera. Acorn Woodpeckers are permanent fixtures on the telephone poles around the kitchen...



This plethora of woodpeckers is bad news for the poor telephone poles. Some of them have been nearly pecked to pieces!



Banding is always fun, even when there aren't any birds around to band! Starr Ranch is a beautiful place.



Well, those are the highlights of my last couple weeks. I'll try to do a better job keeping up in the near future, but I'm not guaranteeing anything.

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...

The Plumber

Several moments passed before my eyes fully processed what sat before me. A small, gray and white bird--dull and ordinary looking, save for a set of brilliant white spectacles giving it a perpetual look of astonishment. Perched only six feet above my head in a dead cottonwood, peering unconcernedly down at me through those shocking spectacles, it seemed not to care in the least about me or the sputtering pishing sounds I was producing. After cocking its head to take one last glance at me, the bird began sluggishly hopping through the low bushes along the bike trail. I chased after it, doing my best to ignore the queer glances from passersby.



Plumbeous Vireo. A strange name for a little gray bird, you might think. However, "plumbeous" means "of or like lead" in Latin. Makes sense now. What this species lacks in color it makes up in character. Often tame and curious, these vireos are delightful to watch. I saw this one (a bird returning for its third or fourth winter, if I'm correct) along the bike trail that follows the Upper Santa Ana River in Anaheim.



To sweeten up this sighting, Plumbeous Vireos are not very common in Orange County. Even though a generous scoop or two turn up in the county every winter, they are always fun to come across. Interesting, this species is on the increase in Orange County. According to The Birds of Orange County, small numbers (one or two) wintered in the county every year beginning in the late eighties; this winter, I can think of at least five birds wintering in the county offhand.



I generally think of Plumbeous Vireos as birds of tall trees, so I was surprised to watch it foraging below eye level in the bushes along the bike trail. I was even more surprised when it flitted down to the ground...



...to snatch an enormous caterpillar! I couldn't believe the bird was going to try to eat this beast; the caterpillar appeared to be almost half as long as the bird! After five minutes of mercilessly beating the insect against a branch, the vireo managed to gulp it down.



Sure, it's not that rare. Sure, it's not that colorful. Sure, its song is burry and simple. Still, I like Plumbeous Vireos. I hope you do too.

#60

The urge to start a new Bigby list got the better of me on Friday. Nothing audacious; I tallied my first ten or so species while lying half-asleep in bed, listening to birds through the open window. When I finally roused myself at the horrendously late hour of seven a.m., I quickly left and spent a few hours poking around the Villa Park Flood Control Basin on my mountain bike. It was for fun, more than anything else; the basin isn't too great for birding this time of year, so I wasn't terribly surprised to come up with only fifty-some species.

I spent the next couple days doing Christmas Bird Counts (Lake Elsinore on Saturday and Mile Square Park on Sunday), so nothing new for the Bigby list those days. Hopefully I'll get a post up about Mile Square sometime soon; as usual, I had fun and saw a few interesting birds (oh, and Irene's breakfast did not disappoint.) This afternoon I added Chipping Sparrow while out for my run in the neighborhood, and then this evening I stepped outside onto the driveway to add number sixty, a hooting Great Horned Owl.

As you've probably surmised by now, my Bigbying has been very low-key thus far. Sure... I could have a hundred and sixty species by now without too much effort, but what's the point? I'll get them eventually.

The Bigby To End All Bigbys

Well, I ended my 2009 Bigby list with two hundred and eighty-three species. As satisfied as I am with this total, I can’t help but feel a bit sad. The year is over, and I doubt I will ever eclipse this total for a Bigby list. This year, I’m moving to college in the fall, cutting short the Bigby year. After that, who knows what will happen.

I suppose I should back up and review exactly what Bigbying is. Simply put, “Bigby” stands for “Big Green Bird Year.” Basically, it is a list of birds seen while birding under your own power. Walking, biking, snowshoeing, canoeing, sailing, and crabwalking are all acceptable forms of transportation for a Bigby list. Cars, planes, motorized boats, and motorcycles are not. Some birders count birds seen via public transportation for their Bigby lists, but I do not. Cheaters.

The traditional thing to do at the end of the year is to reflect on the villainous birds that you missed all year. Remarkably, I missed relatively few possible birds for my Bigby list. However, a few always get away. I’ll describe my ten biggest misses below.

1. Olive-sided Flycatcher—an uncommon migrant in both the spring and fall. I struck out during both migrations. It also breeds in Upper Silverado Canyon, which I biked to in December, but not over the summer. Lastly, and most frustrating, I found a wintering bird in Lemon Heights the one day I scouted for the Christmas Bird Count by car. I could not find it despite several intensive (and extensive) searches.
2. Wood Stork—an extremely rare bird in the county. The one that showed up in early December at San Joaquin Wildlife Sanctuary was the first to be seen in the county since the seventies, I believe. I very stupidly decided not to skip my morning geology class at the community college to chase it. By the time I rolled into San Joaquin in the early afternoon, it was long gone.
3. Pacific Golden-Plover—this species is a sparse migrant and wintering bird in Orange County. It is possible at Bolsa Chica and Upper Newport Bay…and a couple were even seen the same day I visited Bolsa Chica in September, but I dipped.
4. Blackpoll Warbler—this is quickly becoming a big nemesis. Regarded as one of the most common eastern warblers to turn up in California, I really should have bumped into at least one after three falls of birding in Orange County. But no!
5. Stilt Sandpiper—a victim of laziness. One showed up at San Joaquin Wildlife Sanctuary for a couple days in August, but the one afternoon I could have chased it, it was awfully hot and I opted out of riding down there. The next day, when I rode down, it was gone.
6. Red Phalarope—this species is at least irregularly visible from shore during migration and winter…I just never got lucky.
7. Gull-billed Tern—a species showing up in Orange County with increasing frequency, several were spotted in different locations this summer: Upper Newport Bay, San Joaquin Wildlife Sanctuary, and Bolsa Chica. One at Upper Newport Bay in May stuck around for awhile—I just never got around to chasing it.
8. Clay-colored Sparrow—like Blackpoll, this is one of the more common eastern vagrants in southern California. However, this fall was a poor season for them in Orange County; only one was discovered, and it was well outside my Bigbying range.
9. Common Ground-Dove—far from being common in the county, this species is actually declining alarmingly. It could formerly be found at San Joaquin (indeed, that’s where I saw the only one I’ve seen in the county.) A small population is holding out near Rattlesnake Reservoir, which is off limits. I made one expedition and searched the surrounding areas but came up empty.
10. Calliope Hummingbird—a long-time nemesis bird for me. I finally got my lifer in Yosemite, but obviously I didn’t bike there. Apparently it is a fairly common spring migrant in the county, but after two springs of living in California I still have not seen one in Orange County.

Because that was so depressing to write, I’ll describe my favorite ten Bigby birds of the year.

1. Bar-tailed Godwit—how could this not take the top position? In addition to being a first county record, I was the one who originally found it…while I was Bigbying! I am still incredibly thankful that I turned around to take a second look at that weird pale godwit.
2. Great Crested Flycatcher—the godwit barely edges this bird out in rarity. I was lucky enough to see it, the third county record found by my friend Doug Willick along the Upper Santa Ana River. I was birding in Huntington Beach, a good twenty miles away, when Doug called to notify me of the flycatcher. So, I abandoned my birding there and pedaled like a maniac to look for the bird. Fortunately, the bird stuck around the rest of the day (and for a few more days afterward.)
3. Lark Bunting—another self-found bird, and particularly special because I was the only one to see it. Apparently a one-day wonder in the Villa Park Flood Control Basin, a mere two miles from my house. I had no idea exactly how rare it was in the county until I chatted with Doug Willick and found out that it was only about the sixth for the county.
4. Virginia’s Warbler—though an annual vagrant in the county, this bird was the only life bird I found while Bigbying this year. Found by Doug Willick along the upper Santa Ana River (where else?), it stuck around long enough for me to chase it the next day.
5. Sage Thrasher—though not nearly as rare as some of the other birds on this list (thirty or so records for the county), it was one of the most unexpected birds I found this year. I was innocently biking through the neighborhood when I flushed it from the side of the road…when I stopped to check what it was, I sure got a shock when I found a Sage Thrasher looking back out at me from the bush.
6. Baird’s Sandpiper—I’m including this bird on this list simply because it was a bad nemesis I finally managed to defeat. I somehow managed to miss this species the previous two summers, so I was delighted to find one at Peters Canyon in August. As Murphy’s Law dictates, after finding the first one, I ended up seeing nearly ten more over the rest of the fall.
7. Blackburnian Warbler—a fairly regular vagrant in the county, but this one was another special self-found bird found while poaching Doug’s local patch, the Upper Santa Ana River. Amazingly, later I saw a second bird found by Doug…also along the Upper Santa Ana River.
8. Dusky-capped Flycatcher—I definitely deserved this bird. One has wintered in La Mirada for the last three winters, so I decided to make the trek up there to see it. It’s only a twenty-five mile ride, but its entirely through urban areas. Oh, and it rained for most of the ride as well. Not a fun day…except for the few minutes I was watching the bird.
9. Zone-tailed Hawk—an incredibly lucky, needle-in-the-haystack find. One was found on the Christmas Bird Count near Rattlesnake Reservoir. Unfortunately, this place is off-limits. I decided to ride around some nearby roads and take a look around. Nothing…and then I got a flat tire. After replacing the inner tube, I looked up, and the hawk was right overhead!
10. Townsend’s Solitaire—possibly the least rare bird on this list, though one I had to work hard for. It’s an annual visitor high in the mountains. I had to bike up Silverado Canyon (with an elevation gain of around 2500 feet) and then hike three more miles up. A very rewarding experience.

I biked at least a couple thousand miles. According to my odometer, I’ve biked about 1,100 miles since late August. Add maybe another thousand miles to that from earlier in the year, and then a couple hundred more from my mountain bike. Just think of all those burned calories…

I’m keeping a Bigby list again this year, but it’s half-hearted. I’ll probably keep a separate one when I go to college, but neither that nor the one I keep for the rest of the year at home will be nearly as high as this year’s.

Christmas Pocket Count

What has it got in its pocketses? --Gollum, The Hobbit

Now that Christmas Bird Count (CBC) season is nearly over, I thought I'd begin a new count circle--my jacket pockets. This important habitat area is sadly under-appreciated by birders, so I decided that starting a new counting tradition would help raise awareness of this threatened habitat type.

My jacket has three basic functions: (1) to carry various items that I might need on a daily basis, (2) to act as a trash can when no real trash can is around, and... oh yeah, (3) to keep me warm.

This morning, December 28th, 2009, from 10:30-10:45 a.m., I conducted the first Christmas Pocket Count (CPC) under cloudy skies, calm conditions, and temperatures in the upper fifties. I found mostly just the usual residents, though a few vagrants found their way into my pockets. Here is my list for the effort.

(3) Sandwich Bags--all containing crumbs of bread and traces of Jiffy Chunky Peanut Butter.
(1) Chapstick--before you begin lecturing me about how unmanly Chapstick is, try doing two consecutive CBCs in hot, dry, windy weather. Then tell me how your lips feel. This particular species has a close affinity to mankind.
(1) ABA Checklist--a hatch-year containing the latest changes in taxonomy.
(1) Lens Cloth--very worn individual (dark smudges covering most of its body) very far from its usual haunts in the camera case.
(1) Empty Pretzel Bag--the one-hundred calorie Synder's pack, which makes bad eating. It tasted like a Coot.
(1) Crumpled-up Paper Bag--another very worn individual that formerly contained doughnuts.
(1) Kleenex--basic plumage (very wrinkled and covered with a very viscous yellowish liquid.)
(1) Wad of Foil--closely related the the previously mentioned Sandwich Bags. Currently considered separate species; possibly just a subspecies.
(1) Plastic Water Bottle Cap--very far from its normal range...the recycling bin.
(1) iPod Earbuds--ah, that's where those went! The first record for my jacket pockets.
(4) AAA batteries--very young individuals (i.e., they have not yet fledged.)
(17) Clementine Peels--all very worn. Some individuals seemed to be suffering from a white and green skin parasite.
(1) Digital Voice Recorder--I was wondering where this one went. I had it staked out on my desk shelf; apparently it wanders.
(7) Granola Bar Wrappers--three different subspecies were represented: (2) Quaker Chewy Chocolate Chip, (2) Nature Valley Oats & Honey, and (3) Nature Valley Maple Brown Sugar.
(1) Uneaten Granola Bar--of the Quaker Chewy Chocolate Chip subspecies.
(3) Quarters--very rare and endangered species. Always at risk of being sacrificed to vending machines; this species should be immediately protected before it goes extinct.
(1) Nickel--surprisingly scarce.
(2) Pennies--one hatch-year of the Log Cabin subspecies, and a very worn, dark-morph TFY (thirty-fourth year) of the Lincoln Memorial subspecies.
(2) Gum Wrappers--two different subspecies represented: Stride Winter Blue and Orbit Wintermint.
(1) Raisin--oddly, a single individual. This species is normal found in large, dense flocks in cardboard nests.
(1) Twist-tie--a nearly annual vagrant to jacket pockets; normal range is restricted to the kitchen.
(4) Receipts--the taxonomy of this species is hotly debated. Some think it should be split into dozens of species. Two were of the Subway subspecies, one of the Carl's Jr. subspecies, and one of the Albertson's subspecies. I aged all as after hatch-year by the extensive wrinkling on all individuals.
(1) Scantron--a much-hated invasive species that is most frequently spotted during finals.
(1) Pen--sadly, this species is declining precipitously. Its last few strongholds are several dark drawers somewhere.
(5) Maps--formerly rare in the region, this species has invaded the region from a place called The Google.
(1) CBC Tally Sheet--This species is generally only found in the region during CBC season (i.e., December 15th-January 5th)
(1) Slip of Paper--plumage variant...this individual had the email address of a birder interested in several CBC rarities written on it.
(~800) Granola Bar Crumbs--a very harmful and dangerous species. The only way to combat it is with a strange creature known as a vacuum cleaner.

I wish you luck in your CBCs and CPCs. Until next year!

Mission Impossible

I’m a creature of habit. Most of my Bigby rides are to places I’ve visited many times before—San Joaquin Wildlife Sanctuary or Upper Newport Bay, for example. Very few potential Bigby birds remain to be found in the county, and most of them are in out-of-the-way spots, not my patches. In particular, the Santa Ana Mountains housed several birds I needed for my Bigby list, so I finally bucked down on Christmas Eve and biked up there.

My fear of big hills has previously prevented me from Bigbying in the mountains. As I discovered, they’re not called mountains for nothing. Surprisingly, I survived.

I embarked early on the morning of Christmas Eve. I pedaled out of my normal biking range when I continued past Jamboree Road onto Santiago Canyon Road. The hills began, but I pressed on. After six miles of very hilly and cold (there was ice and frost along the road!) riding, I made it to the Silverado Canyon Road. The real hills began.

My first target was Canyon Wren. A couple had been found in lower Silverado Canyon on the Christmas Bird Count. I barely had to pull off the road to hear one’s spiraling whistle drifting down from an imposing cliff face overlooking the town of Silverado. Check.

The real climbing began once I entered Silverado. Santiago Canyon Road had been an almost pleasant ride, with its mix of up-hills and down-hills. Silverado Canyon Road, on the other hand, was one brutal, continuous climb. I arrived, panting, at the gate into upper Silverado Canyon after several miles of climbing through the charming town of Silverado.

My plan was to lock up my bike at the end of the pavement (my hybrid really isn’t intended for heavy off-road use, and the road gets even more steep once the pavement ends) and continue up for a few miles on foot. The three miles to the end of the pavement from the end of the gate was simultaneously arduous yet tremendously fun. Unlike the other places I bike, there were no cars zooming past me, leaving me in clouds of hot, reeking exhaust. Instead, a crisp mountain breeze whisked down the canyon, Hermit Thrushes darted across the road in front of me, and only the occasional dirt biker roaring past marred the experience.

Miraculously, I made it to the end of the pavement without losing my breakfast (it almost happened… once.) I quickly gathered up the essentials (bins, camera, water, Chewy Chocolate Chip granola bars) and began hiking up the road. Within fifteen minutes I had found my second new Bigby bird of the morning: a Lewis’s Woodpecker puttering around some burned-out Coulter pines, which I found when I drove up there on November 20th.



Lighting never strikes twice…and neither do Painted Redstarts. You may recall that I also found a Painted Redstart up there on November 20th. It was seen the next day, but never again. Instead of refinding the bird, I loitered near the place, enjoying the usual nuthatches and chickadees while reminiscing about the redstart.
The only two remaining targets I had were Townsend’s Solitaire and Hairy Woodpecker. Once again, the Christmas Bird Count tipped me off to the solitaires’ presence. Unfortunately, they were much farther up in the canyon—at least a couple miles beyond the redstart place. I plodded uphill, enjoying the scenery and the occasional bird that flitted across the road ahead of me (Silverado Canyon can be incredibly barren for long stretches.)

I did not have very precise directions to the solitaire spot, and I was just thinking of giving up and heading back down when I rounded a bend and flushed a gray bird from the roadside. It landed in a nearby pine—a Townsend’s Solitaire! I didn’t have much time to enjoy it, since a second solitaire quickly chased it off. Several more showed up and began feeding in a couple Toyon bushes near the road.




Engrossed in the solitaires (a new county bird in addition to being a great new Bigby bird), I barely noticed when a Hairy Woodpecker called from the nearby stand of burned pines. When the call finally registered, I quickly located the bird working a charred pine. I could barely believe my luck. Both these species are very scarce in the county, and they certainly justified the pains I suffered to find them.

After drinking in my fill of solitaires, I turned around and wearily began the descent. One favorable aspect of birding this area is the friendliness of the other people—nearly everyone, whether biker, hiker, or driver, exchanged a friendly wave, greeting, or smile. No fewer than three people in cars offered me a ride down the mountain, but that would violate the rules of Bigbying, so naturally I refused.

When I finally reached my bike, patiently waiting for me at the base of the mountain, I thought my adventures for the day were over. They weren’t. After only about a quarter-mile of coasting down the hill, I noticed a strange knocking sound coming from my bike. I slowed to investigate, and—BOOM! My rear tire exploded, nearly knocking the entire bike over. Hmm, that’s not good. After a minute of inspecting the situation, I found the culprit of the explosion—one of the brake pads. Somehow, it had slipped slightly and had been rubbing against the tire until it became so hot the inner tube exploded.

Replacing the inner tube only took a few minutes (I carry several spare inner tubes and the trappings to replace one at all times.) Fixing the brakes, however, was tricky. I still hadn’t gotten them adjusted perfectly after fifteen minutes of wrestling with them, but I tightened the pads enough so they wouldn’t hit the tire and cause another blowout. That done, I hopped back on my bike and coasted the entire way down. I barely had to pedal at all!

The odyssey had a happy ending. I safely returned home without being crushed by a truck, as my parents had been so convinced would happen. In retrospect, the ride was one of my favorite Bigby trips I’ve ever taken. It combined great birds with beautiful surroundings (oh, and the blowout added some adventure, too.)