Become A Better Birder

Day 93: The most important thing you can learn if you want to be a better birder is what to observe. Note that I do not say, "what to look for." If you spend the fleeting seconds before your subject disppears into cover trying to look for something specific, you will blind yourself to observations you might have made when shown the overall picture. Take for example the two birds in the top picture. A novice birder might conclude that they are the same species because they are both orange and black, but might fail to note that one has a white breast and a red eye, whereas the other has orange wing markings and an eye stripe. When partially concealed by brush, it would be easy to make that mistake. Seen without interfering scrub or grass, the two are much easier to tell apart. The Towhee's wing markings are white; those of the Varied Thrush are orange. The Thrush's breast is mottled; the Towhee's white beneath rusty sides. Learn what field markings commonly distinguish species, such as wing bars, crowns, eye stripes, tail feathers, the colours of eyes, beaks and legs. You will find that your cursory glimpse registers these features more readily as you practice. And be patient with those who might insist that either or both these birds are American Robins. Take those poor uneducated souls under your wing and teach them to be better birders.

A Little Big Day

Day 213: Well, I didn't break my record of 25 species, although if everyone in my crowd of "usuals" had shown up, I could have done. As it was, the three species of sparrow who were here on Friday failed to drop by, as did the Sapsucker and the Northern Flicker, both of whom are here almost every day. My grand total for 2023 was 21. Even odder was the fact that there were no Red-winged Blackbirds to chase away. Any other day, I'd have been shooing them off every fifteen minutes. There were no major surprises in my backyard Big Day unless you cound a few Barn Swallows who were the first I've seen this year. Temps near 90 kept bird activity to a minimum. In fact, there were long periods throughout the day when there were no birds anywhere in sight, and that in itself is worthy of remark. Still, I suppose many people would envy someone who can chalk up 21 species from the comfort of their chair at the window. It took me thirty years to reach this point.

Going Head-To-Head

Day 194: The sudden spring influx of birds finds the sparrows going head-to-head for seed and, if at first glance you assumed these two were the same species, look again. Notice that the one on the left is wearing a white bicycle helmet, whereas the one on the right has a "mohawk" hairdo, dyed yellow to demand your attention to detail. Now you've got it! Here we have a White-crowned Sparrow (Zonotrichia leucophrys) and a Golden-crowned Sparrow (Zonotrichia atricapilla), the two Sparrow species most common to my yard. The males of most Sparrow species generally have some obvious colouration which makes it possible to tell them apart. However, the females can present problems even for experienced birders. It takes a bit of practice to train the eye to look for field identification points such as eye stripes, wing bars, beak shape, leg colour, breast markings, etc., but if you keep those things in mind while watching birds in your own yard, you will soon discover that it's easier to tell LBJs and LGBs apart (birder parlance for "Little Brown Jobs" and "Little Grey Birds").

Big Day Collage

Day 214: First, a disclaimer. These images represent some (but not all) of the 25 species observed from my yard on Global Big Day. All but one of the photos (Anna's Hummer, female) was taken over the two-day period of May 13-14, but each represents a species/sex observed on my Big Day. I knew I'd be busy birding, but even so, I processed over 400 pictures yesterday. The quality is poor in some of these (notably the Raven, taken at 95x zoom and the Violet-green Swallow, taken at 75x zoom), and I would have liked a better representation of the male Red-winged Blackbird, but the males know to fly off when they see me. I'll be posting larger versions of some of the better photos over the next week or so.

There were some notable absences on Big Day. The Varied Thrush declined to put in an appearance, as did the Golden-crowned Sparrow. Song Sparrow didn't show, nor did Northern Flicker. I haven't seen a Red-breasted Sapsucker yet this year, and didn't expect one. Species seen but not photographed include Canada Goose (heard, unmistakably, in numbers) and Black-capped Chickadee, who persisted in hiding deep within the branches of the contorted filbert to eat his seeds. The male Goldfinch presented himself last of all, capping off a pretty darn good backyard Big Day.

Identification key (left to right, top to bottom):
Row 1: Anna's Hummingbirds (male and female), Chestnut-backed Chickadee, Dark-eyed Junco, Rufous Hummingbirds (male and female)
Row 2: American Robin, Purple Finch, Evening Grosbeaks (male and female), Mourning Dove, Band-tailed Pigeon
Row 3: Northwestern Crows, Spotted Towhee, American Goldfinch (male and female), Red-breasted Nuthatch, Common Raven
Row 4: Pine Siskin, Steller's Jay, Black-headed Grosbeaks (male and female), White-crowned Sparrow, European Starling
Row 5: Brown-headed Cowbirds (male and female), Tree Swallow, Violet-green Swallow, Red-winged Blackbirds (male and female)

Faithful Friends

Day 97: This is a nod to the most faithful of friends, the Dark-Eyed Juncos (Oregon Junco, Junco hyemalis) who come to my feeders every day of the year. They are so reliably present that they fade into the background of my observations with the same facility that their camouflage effectively hides them from view among the greys and browns of Pacific Northwest winter, their chirps so familiar to my ear that I do not notice them beneath the buzz of hummingbirds and harsh jay-chatter. My eye disregards them when a Song or White-Crowned Sparrow lands among their numbers, or is drawn away by the Spotted Towhee's red eye or Grosbeak's yellow flash. They do not come to my hand like the Chickadees, but often scurry about, searching for seeds beside or under my lawn chair in summer, careful to stay out from underfoot, if perhaps only by inches. I do not mean to ignore them, but they are the socks and underwear of my birding wardrobe; essential, yet not often given much consideration in the day's outline. To continue the metaphor, I would feel embarrasingly undressed without them, to be sure. This day is yours, little Juncos. Thank you for being there.

I Am Light, I Am Shadow

Day 352: People might wonder why anyone would plant a tree which would drop a messy load of berries in their yard come autumn. It's for this, this right here: a once-a-year, hit-or-miss, might-happen-or-not event lasting a few days at most. Of course, I am speaking of the arrival of the Cedar Waxwings (Bombycilla cedrorum), to my way of thinking one of the most beautiful birds of the Pacific Northwest. A few days ago, the American Robins began working on the berries on the smaller of my two Mountain-ash trees, a native shrub rather than a cultivar like the larger one which overhangs my driveway, so I have been on a window vigil, hoping to catch sight of a Waxwing. Yesterday, deep in the shadows of the leaves, I spotted something not-Robin. It seemed to have a freckled breast, and that threw me off for a few minutes until I checked my field guide. Have I really never seen a young Waxwing before? The adults have a clear breast, so clear and uniform in colour that it looks painted, but yes, the juveniles are mottled and blotched. The youngster stayed hidden as much as he could, only tempted out as far as the juicy berries borne on a branch tangled into the neighbouring dogwood. Others were more brazen, but still gave way when an influx of clumsy robins overwhelmed them. I watched as bunch after bunch of orange berries disappeared into hungry mouths. I think the supply will last two or three more days at most. Then the brief harvest festival of Waxwing Days 2020 will have passed into history.

Waiting For Anna's

Day 341: Obviously I'm getting a little desperate for material here, but this photo does mark a significant event. As I was standing by the window yesterday evening, a hummingbird came to the feeder, and as it turned its head, the light caught on its feathers in a manner which made my jaw drop. Unmistakably, it was a male...MALE!...Anna's, its crown and cheeks as red as its throat. By the time I had regained my composure and picked up the camera, it was gone. It was verging on dusk, smoke adding to the gloom, but I set up the tripod anyway in the hopes of catching my elusive guest. He did return, but my reaction time coupled with digital delay did not allow me to capture the colour. This morning, he has been back repeatedly and is being chased off by what I believe to be a juvenile male not yet fully coloured. The territorial bird seems to have more red on its head than the females exhibit. Perhaps I've had more boys around than I thought. It took the females a while to develop their throat patches. In any event, what lingering doubts I might have had about my identification of Anna's have now been dispelled entirely with the appearance of one gorgeous, if unfortunately camera-shy gentleman of the species.

Definitely Anna's

Day 322: There was still some lingering doubt in my mind regarding my identification of what appeared to be an Anna's...no, a swarm of Anna's Hummingbirds visiting my yard. I'd never confirmed the presence of Anna's here before, although there was that one incident with the funny-coloured "Rufous" female at the feeder about ten years ago, captured only on video as a darting blur which may or may not have had a grey belly and a flash of red under the chin. But yesterday while I was riding my exercise bike, camera at my side just in case, half a dozen that-can't-be-Rufouses showed up, popcorning between the Sitka Mountain-ash and the feeder in the fuchsias. Then one perched on the preferred branch of the mountain-ash, remaining in place for several minutes as I stopped pedalling and picked up the camera. Then I got off the bike and edged closer...and closer...and closer...and..."Oh, look at those freckles!" I said in observation of the breast, "And you have a dark patch...was that a wink of red?...under your little chin!" The light had to be just right to catch it, and the camera did not, but it was enough to confirm that yes, the Ash Group is definitely comprised of Anna's, juveniles and females, and very possibly at least one subadult male. It's been an exciting summer at the feeders!

Coo-coo Birds

Day 64: The Coo-coo Birds are seldom brave enough to come into the yard proper, preferring to hang out on the power lines or scrabble in the driveway rocks for bugs. Today, however, a pair of them were cleaning up the spilled seed, "pair" in the sense of "mates" as opposed to "two birds." Mourning Doves are not uncommon here, but unlike their pigeon cousins, they aren't obnoxious. That said, as members of the clan, they're not exactly the sharpest crayons in the box either, although if they disappeared, I would miss their soft voices. Oddly, their mewing is very similar to the sweet-nothings I've heard exchanged sotto voce between courting ravens, but then, ravens and crows are capable of producing a much wider range of vocalizations. It's no wonder doves are a symbol of peace. They can only speak words of love.

Confiding

Day 205: Old birding guides will often refer to Chickadees as "confiding." The word in this context doesn't mean that they're telling you their innermost secrets; rather it refers to their confidence around humans. My little Black-capped friend is becoming more confiding as he/she makes the connection between my activity and food replenishment. In fact, when the feeder ran dry in the evening, Dee-dee perched on the shepherd's-hooks directly outside the living room window and gave me the pointed eye. Obedient as always, I responded by delivering another cupful of small seed mixed with nyger, just enough for a bedtime top-off. I have not seen more than one 'dee in the tree, but I keep hoping that the confidence of one will draw others.

No Shingles, No House

Day 201: In areas where the two species occur together, there's an easy way to remind yourself of the difference between Purple Finch and House Finch: if it doesn't have shingles, it's not a house. The breast markings on House Finch are distinct flecks, as opposed to the soft, blurry, muted pattern worn by Purple Finch. Otherwise, the two birds look pretty much the same, or as Roger Tory Peterson puts it, "like a sparrow dipped in raspberry juice." The females of both species are even more difficult to distinguish, with both being your typical "little brown job" or "LBJ" as they are lovingly known in birding circles. A trained eye can pick out narrow wing bars on a female House Finch (not as well-defined on Purple) or on Purple, a straighter culmen (dorsal ridge of the bill) than on House, but you'd better have good field glasses and hope for a quiet subject if you wish to make either of these observations.

Comparative Anatomy, Sparrow-Style

Day 198: Sparrow species aren't nearly as confusing as Warblers, but even so, they can be daunting for beginning birders. Take for example Golden-Crowned Sparrows (top) and White-Crowned Sparrows (bottom). Young Golden-Crowned birds often don't exhibit the distinctive yellow patch on the tops of their heads until they've gone through their first moult. A novice birder, seeing only a white stripe might assume that a young Golden-Crowned was a White-Crowned, but closer observation of the head will give a second clue. White-Crowned Sparrows also have a white stripe above the eye. The top stripe and the eye band intersect on the back of the head, giving the bird the appearance of wearing a bicycle helmet. Golden-Crowned has only the single stripe, and even if the yellow feathers have not emerged, this distinguishes them from White-Crowned quite readily.

I Am Light And Shadow

Day 174: The Varied Thrush has been hanging out under the contorted filbert for several days now, and although I've managed to capture a rather mediocre "field guide" image, this shot is my favourite. It demonstrates just how effective the broken colour pattern can be for camouflage, despite the bird being rather vibrant otherwise. Thrush brings insects to the surface by scatching furiously at the ground for a second, grabbing a bite and then standing stock-still. In doing so, he foils predators by melting into the mosaic of light and shadow. As with the camera lens in this photo, the viewer's focus shifts to the nearer objects and is distracted from the bird by the visual interference. Frequently as I sat on my perch at the open window, my eyes would stray to the side to look at another bird, and I would lose track of his position even though the Thrush hadn't budged. He might be obvious when he's walking on the lawn, but in the shrubbery, he is a master of concealment.

Cock Of The Walk

Day 172: This Red-Winged Blackbird deserves having his photo used as today's feature. I'd been perched at the open window for half an hour, patiently and vainly waiting for a Varied Thrush to decide there was something worth inspecting which was not in the deep shadows under the contorted filbert while Mr. Blackbird kept pacing back and forth, as if to say, "Well, I'm here. Aren't I pretty enough?" Just to have something to do, I snapped a few pictures, not really expecting him to be quite so photogenic. I never got a clear shot of the thrush (for some reason, they are a difficult species for me despite being fairly common), but I am certainly not disappointed with this cute and cocky pose.

Little Blue Snot Returns

Day 211: Again, I must apologize to my readers for the quality of the photo. Little Blue Snot is a very elusive character, shy and quick as a streak of lightning, and flits into the cover of the contorted filbert as soon as he detects the slightest movement. I had to take the picture through window glass and at a higher ISO than I prefer. All that aside, this is still probably the best capture I've ever made of my elusive friend.

For the last several years, one or two Lazuli Buntings have been drawn to my feeders, but usually don't remain here more than six weeks. Sibley's maps show that they are rare in western Washington but summer east of the mountains. They winter in Mexico. Mine must get confused somewhere near Mount Adams and therefore come up the wrong side of the Cascades. Many people confuse them with Western Bluebirds although the colour of the head is closer to aqua than true blue. In any event, the wing bars are the clincher for an ID even if the shorter, broader bill is not observed.

Caching Through The Snow

Day 94: "Caching through the snow / That's how I spent my day / Oh, what fun it is to find / A brand-new place to play!"

I have to admit that I'd never been all the way to the end of the trail (gated road) despite how long I've lived here and the fact that I've worked with the Nisqually Land Trust at a site about a quarter mile in. The old road goes on for almost two miles, not losing much elevation until the last quarter mile when it descends to the confluence of Ohop Creek and the Nisqually River. The timber was harvested from this acreage years ago and a network of closed roads remains, and now most of the land is under the umbrella of Washington State Parks. The "Nisqually-Mashel Park" is still under development. Permission was granted for someone to place a geocache within the park boundaries, and a mad rush of first-to-find fiends sallied forth on December 31 to find it. On that date, I was snowshoeing in the capital-P Park (Mount Rainier) and enjoying the solitude. I've lost the drive to be first off the block. I knew this one would still be there when I got around to it.

The cache was not the only thing I found during this adventure. There was some classic "great" Americana manifesting as rusted-out car bodies, empty beer cans, trash, shell casings and targets, but at least I saw nothing to indicate illegal fishing. Maybe two miles is too far for a snagger to carry a 20-pound salmon. Who knows? For company, I had an assortment of dear friends: Pacific Wren, a young Bald Eagle, an unidentified woodpecker which I never saw clearly, Kinglets of some sort and of course the elusive Black-Capped Chickadees who are my photographic bane. The spot is certainly worth another visit, and I wouldn't have discovered it if geocaching hadn't taken me there.

No Shingles Here

Day 88: Houses have shingles, therefore this bird is purple.

Okay, I imagine some of you are having a hard time with that statement, but it is perfectly reasonable when you have all the data. This is a Purple Finch (Carpodacus purpureus). It has a close cousin in House Finch (Carpodacus mexicanus) and can be difficult to distinguish from it where the two species overlap in range. The key is in observing the bird's flanks and breast. House Finch has much sharper markings; the flanks in particular are patterned with distinct dark streaks, i.e., the "shingles" on the House. If you remember that one key phrase "Houses have shingles," you should have no trouble telling them apart in the field, even if the mnemonic confuses your non-birding friends.

Wonderful Waxwings

Day 278: A seasonal delight, the Cedar Waxwings returned to my yard a few days ago and have been busily de-bugging between the weeds which pass for my lawn. Yesterday evening, a group of four birds took turns hunting or perching on the fence, so while fending off mosquitoes with one hand, I managed to capture a digital record with the other.

Bombycilla cedrorum presents such smoothness of body colour that it is difficult to distinguish feather texture even when seen at close range. The transition between its milky-tea brown head and yellowish flanks occurs so smoothly that it fools the eye. However, Cedar Waxwings' distinctive black mask augmented by a thin white line around the edge is striking, and the tail is marked by a yellow band across the tip. The wings are unpatterned except for a frost of white on the tertial feathers and the waxy red "drops" which are sometimes visible on the tips of the secondaries. This feature is characteristic of the species and gives it its common name. It is believed that this secretion is a concentration of the pigments contained in the red berries preferred by the birds (mountain ash, honeysuckle, dogwood, etc.), a factor which may also influence the depth of colour found at the tips of the tail-feathers. Waxwings also consume bugs, buds and blossoms, but their diet is largely fruit.

Life List Sighting - Northern Pygmy Owl

Day 116: This was purely a case of being in the right place at the right time. I was passing through a rather dark section of the Bud Blancher Trail when something small and brown flitted across my field of view and landed on an arched branch of vine maple. When my eyes came to rest on it, I said to myself, "That is not a Pacific Wren. It's too big." Carefully raising the camera without letting the bird out of my sight, I zoomed in, but the woods was too dark for me to make out any detail other than a flat face and big eyes. Again, I remarked to myself on the size, saying, "Boy, if that's a Saw-Whet, it's tiny!" I had time for two shots before my little friend disappeared into the forest.

As soon as I arrived home, I downloaded the photos from the camera and enhanced them to bring up the light. Better to shoot dark and get detail than try for a longer exposure which would undoubtedly result in a blurry image! The next step was to refer to Sibley: nope, not a Saw-Whet. The raised eyebrows, the spotted forehead, the barring on the tail, and the slight rufous "collar" told me what I needed to know.

The Northern Pygmy Owl (Glaucidium gnoma) is an uncommon species here. It is substantially smaller than a Robin (6.75" as opposed to 10"), but is stockier for its size. It often flicks its tail from side to side when perched, a behaviour which I noted on this occasion. Unlike many other owls, it is active during daylight hours.

Spotted Sandpiper, Actitis Macularia

Day 217: While this was not a Life List sighting for me, the only other place I have ever observed Spotted Sandpipers was at Mystic Lake, elevation 5000' in the northwest corner of Mount Rainier National Park, and that would have been at least thirty years ago. I found two today at the north end of Lake Mackintosh (Thurston County, WA). Their behaviour indicated that they might have been a nesting pair.

Sibley refers to this species as "uncommon but widespread," and shows the Cascade crest (approximately) at the junction of the year-'round range and the migratory route. Lake Mackintosh is only a few hundred feet above sea level and well west of the crest, so if this was indeed a nesting pair, this sighting is interesting from the standpoint of the species' phenology.