Oops. While scrutinising my photographic accounts on ‘the list so far’ component of this blog, I noticed that my only sighting of Black Rosy-finch for the year appears, from the photos I took of it, to be a very dark Gray-crowned Rosy-finch. The real bummer is that I would have expected to see additional Black Rosy-finches at the Ruby Mountains search area for Himalayan Snowcocks. I saw several small groups in 2016. But none this year. So it looks like I’m to suffer the dreaded ‘De-tick’, which leaves my year-list at 839 +1 (in all likelihood, 840). I’ve made the change on ‘the list so far’. Damn.

No Black Rosy-finch for you!

After leaving Adak Island on December 28th (which was touch and go due to almost constant 40mph winds), Robyn and I spent the last three days of the year sort of filling in time, in the absence of any fresh rarities to chase in the setting sun of 2019. It really felt wrong – and in hindsight, I wonder if the current White-cheeked Pintail in Florida will be ruled ‘wild’ – there sure are a lot of people twitching it. Oh well. We spent a day NW of Seattle hoping to fill a couple of photographic ‘holes’, without success, then a day west of Houston for the final Big Year gong, successfully photographing a couple of species that I’d failed to capture with the camera earlier. Both days have been anticlimactic. Although I’m sure I’ll find the time for a nice wrap-up of the insane year in North America, I figured that this brief fill-in  is deserved by anyone wondering  how my  year-list finished  up. My last ‘tick’ came in the form of the pair of magnificent Whooper Swans on Christmas  afternoon. It is presently impossible for me to reconcile the ‘calendar time’ of these last 365 days, with my well-worn perception.

I’ll write this  stuff up in the fullness of time, but here  are my early summary thoughts: Alaska was good this year; I did OK with Hawaiian seabirds (but the next person to follow should do even better); I did well with Hawaiian birds generally, though disappointed that Mariana Swiftlet didn’t  respond  to some pretty big efforts; that going for some of the more difficult ‘common’ birds early  in the  year proved wise; that sticking to west coast repo cruises, and the annual San Diego 5-day pelagic  and skipping out completely on one-day pelagic trips off northern California was smart. On the other side of the  ledger,  I did miss a few birds due in combination to my five brief trips home to Australia, and good old fashioned stupidity. More telling however, was the relative paucity of mainland rarities – Arizona, Texas, and Florida during ‘both’ winter periods of the 2019 calendar year. My guess is that this timing made the difference  of a half dozen or so species.  Anyhow, I’ll do some number crunching and summary writing at this web address before long.

Most importantly to me, I feel OK about my level of passion and intensity throughout all but the darkest hours, and perhaps the final two months. With rare exception, I opted for the road that seemed the right one,  with no prisoners knowingly taken.

There are a few hours before our Sydney flight  takes off, and if I can remember anything worth annexing, I’ll do so. I’ll also send thanks to the many people to whom I owe thanks, in the fullness of my readjustments, and include additional thanks on this blog. Soonish. Meanwhile, sincere best wishes to you all  – may 2020 be your biggest year. Special thanks to the birders (Joe Lill included – more about his role in all of this in future post) who followed the ABA big year efforts of myself, Amanda, Dick, Gaylee, Tammy and David on Birdforum.

I must admit that I saw a number of ‘cute’ sights in recent weeks that I just didn’t have the motivation to capture with my iPhone. One was a billboard somewhere – I really can’t remember where, that read: “Skillfulness in Action”.  Nothing else – just that.

For Auld Lang Syne

We too have run around the slopes

And picked the daisies fine

We’ve wondered many weary foot

Since Auld Lang Syne

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Christmas flight to Adak Island – wouldn’t be dead for quids.

Same limo as always. Plenty of room for bags, and no risk of overheating contents.

Adak road to Andrew Lake.

Andrew Lake. What are those white spots on the water?

Whooper Swans! I love it when a plan comes together. Thanks Santa!

Code 3 Tufted Duck on Clam Lagoon.

The road less travelled

IMG_6148

Video: Just point the truck ‘that’ way.

Surf’s always up on Adak.

We departed Adak for Anchorage on Dec 28, despite worries about being stuck due to big winds. Uncertain about continuing game plan, in absence of any needed rarities in play within the ABA area.

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In any event, I like the resonance of the nice rounded value of ‘840’. Even if there are no new birds to come during the last week of 2019, I’m happily surprised with the current total, and more than willing to spring for a new set of licence plates when I get back home – upgrading from my three-years-old ‘ABA 835’ plates.

Early morning arrival at Kodiak airport with anticipatory thoughts of Marlon Brando’s gut-wrenching: “Stella! STELLAHHH!!!’.

It took a couple of scoreless hours, but was fun to watch this flotilla of Steller’s (STELLAH!!!) Eiders alternatively diving, more or less in unison, then popping up to the surface like champaign corks every half minute or so. God knows what they were doing down there, but they clearly have the synchronisation thing down pat. I understand that the species is in frightening decline – buffering the fun out of the experience somewhat.

Lots of Emperor Geese resting in the the Gulf of Alaska, just a few kilometres from the metropolis of Kodiak. They have a McDonalds, you know.

Impish Pacific Wren, Kodiak.

The drive from Anchorage to Seward, hoping the Common Pochard that Sulli Gibson spotted 18 hours earlier would hang in there, with snowstorm closing in.

Sweet baby Jesus, and just in time for Christmas. The Common Pochard at Bear Lake, Seward, Alaska that Sulli Gibson found a day earlier. 

A long way from shoreline for a guy with no scope contending with a screen of falling snow,  but still discernible. It didn’t hurt that several other scoped-up birders were on hand to clarify matters. This species represents my 840th ABA species for the year. Holy cow.

We were first on hand for this little mishap, just after leaving the Pochard stakeout. One of the two beautiful little girls on board had an injured foot – which hopefully will not prove to be as bad as it sounded.

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Below are some of the birds spotted in the desert upper slope from Tucson, and up to scenic Mt Lemmon. The Costa’s Hummingbird image follows the generosity of Tucson birder Joe Aliperti, who let us stalk his backyard feeders this morning.

Saguara-enhanced rolling hills above Tucson

Broad-billed Hummingbird

Pyrrhuloxia aka Desert Cardinal

Costa’s Hummingbird

Mount Lemmon – full of birds, even during winter solstice. Arizona is the State that just keeps giving.

Steller’s Jay – the Rock Star of jays.

Williamson’s Sapsucker – a very nice surprise.

Yellow-eyed Junco – zombie morph.

Great mates. A friend in need is a friend indeed. Reid Park, Tucson.

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The Short-tailed Hawk puts my ABA year-list at 837 . It is likely that an additional ‘provisional’ species – Pallas’s Grasshopper-warbler that I saw in Gambell, Alaska three months ago can be added to my list in the fullness of time, but for now, the new ABA Big Year record stands at 837 + 1. Its been a long year, with plenty of the sorts of challenges that are always likely to impact upon such a big time frame. Once I’m rested up and less infectious, I’ll do my best to bump up the score by a couple of more species – we’ll see what the gods have in mind for this.

A beautiful light-morph Short-tailed Hawk – and new ABA Big Year record bird, skulking about in the mix of a hundred or so soaring Turkey Vultures, above Lucky Hammock, near Everglades National Park in Sth Florida.

Squadron of early-thermal riding Turkey Vultures – which provides cover for the odd Short-tailed Hawk.

Gotcha!

Great Crested Flycatcher (oops, not Tropical Kingbird as reported). 

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I celebrated the find, which represents my 837th species for the year – and an unofficial new Big Year Record, by finding a retail source for a new, relatively cheap replacement for my sick Nikon 850D, but won’t be sticking around long enough to try for better shots of the devil bird. The mission has been less than pleasant in recent days as I’ve tried to put aside flu symptoms that haven’t been mild. I feel quite ill presently, but wanted to get this blog out there. Going to head to warmer country tomorrow.

Black-headed Gull – a bit larger, lighter coloured, and with bigger, reddish bill than Bonaparte’s gull in foreground.

Devil bird.

On again off again Niagara Falls weather.

The view down to the Niagara River hangout of the gulls from the American side of the border.

Snapping turtle house I noticed today.

Still standing. Sort of.

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Steely Dan – Can’t Buy a Thrill

I’m ready to admit that I suck. I can’t understand otherwise why I cannot do what other birders have done over the past week, and pick out a single Black-headed Gull from 500 Bonapartes Gulls, all within scope view of ‘the whirlpool’, not far below Niagara Falls. Yesterday’s excuse was that I didn’t have a scope – mine is in luggage storage at Anchorage airport – in my ‘Alaska Kit’ bag, clocking up $6 a day – probably for another two weeks, which will put the bill beyond the $250 mark. Planning is another area that I’m beginning to suspect I suck at. But I couldn’t use the scope excuse today, because Toronto birder Steve Petersen, who first flagged the BHGU to me when I was similarly struggling in Dipsville, Arizona a few days ago, generously took mercy on my tired arse and cancelled several meetings from work to join me in the drizzling rain, scope and all, for today’s effort. We picked out a Little Gull – with all-dark underwings, but couldn’t discern the Black-headed Gull, which was definitely mixing it up with the Bonaparte’s Gulls yesterday right in front of my distant binocular view from the US side of the whirlpool. I know this because 8 birders reported it from the Canadian side of the border river – dissecting it from the same swirl of 500+ feeding gulls that I was focussed on for hours. In fairness however, since the only diagnostic feature of this particular bird at this particular time has (from a distant view), is a dark flash under primaries – and when looking down from the Gondola bases – whichever side of the river you want to park yourself, flash views of underwing markings are few and far between. Thats why today, as yesterday, I spent considerable time down at water level at adjacent shore, not so far northwest of the principal gull feeding action. From there, replicating yesterday’s trials, Steve and I spent several hours today inspecting lots of underwing action, but saw nothing approximating the black underwing tips of our elusive Black-headed Gull. It was very kind of Steve to help today, but by 3pm I’d had enough, and wasn’t feeling great (I hope it isn’t a cold, flu, or mesothelioma – since I have the finish line almost in sight), and I pulled the pin.

After my wimp-out, my recuperation plan included attempting to revive my camera again – it drowned in the rain, and washing my rain-soaked clothing and enjoying a half-hour hot shower, but as is rarely a problem, my hotel doesn’t have guest laundry machines. They have a take-away laundry service with costing based on a per-item rate, which I guesstimated added up to about $50 a load. I’ve turned my room into a drying chamber instead. Unfortunately, my camera, which I love far more than my treatment of it suggests, has not responded to heat treatment, but I haven’t given up yet.  Four minutes til brain damage, right?. I want to go home.

I’m going to give the gull game one more day tomorrow, then move to an hotel with coin-op laundry machines, though I have no idea what part of America that will be (the hot shower was good, as is the Fireball treatment).

I guess that today’s challenges would have been less onerous, but for the fact that upon crossing the border back to the US side of the falls, I endured the familiar third degree response from US Immigration. This process varies from agent to agent (yesterday’s crossing was OK), but this guy looked cranky even before he scanned my passport, and it all went downhill from there. The first thing these guys see on the computer screen is that I renounced US citizenship 35 years ago in order to take up Australian citizenship. They really don’t like that for some reason. And of course, once the passport is inspected, there are ten or more entries to the US this year alone – about half when I was required back home for short visits, and the rest when crossing in and out of Canada for birding purposes. He put on a performance, and reminded me about the nature of the privilege I’d been granted with my B2 visa, but kept it reasonably brief, and significantly, I wasn’t directed to an interview room – something that happens about a quarter of the time, and can be upsetting. With any luck I won’t have to go to Canada again this year, and the bushfires, which have gradually moved towards the Reptile Park these past four weeks or so (now 5km away, but being held in check, as of today) won’t drag me back for what may be a premature end of my American birding year – so. maybe no more inward border crossings til my next US family reunion – in 2020.

Niagara Falls at night from US side of the great divide

Zoomed view of resting mob of Bonaparte’s Gulls. Anyone see a red bill amongst them?

The view from down below gave much better chance of detecting diagnostic dark tip of underwing.

Kind of like Newman’s mail dilemma, the gulls at the whirlpool never stop.

Canadian birding mate Steve Stevenson probably didn’t know what he was getting into when offering to join me in the rain today. He was a real champion, and gave it a huge effort.

PS: today, Tuesday – a day after above photo of Steve looking for BHGU, I’m flat on my back with the first flu I’ve had in many years. Can’t get out today for another shot at the gull – and perhaps an ABA Big Year Record, so maybe tomorrow. Yuck.

Insult to injury, my precious camera is less forgiving after the latest abuse. the info screen at top, near shutter release button is blank, and the internal viewfinder data is no longer present – just the image of subject matter ahead. However, I can make the rig work by pressing the info button at back of camera to see settings portrayed on back led panel, and everything else seems to work OK.

Hopefully, both my camera and I can together manage to limp to the end of the calendar year, and get the job done – seemingly in increasingly slow motion. I see that Steller’s Eiders are starting to show up at Kodiak, as hoped for, and I can’t think of a better place to spend Christmas with Robyn than Alaska – perhaps on Adak Island, where the potential for magic is always present. So one more crack at the Niagara Falls spoiler, then Florida where Short-tailed Hawks continue to feature on trip listings, all the while hoping that Sth Texas and Arizona will wake up, for gawd’s sake, and do something.

The post Can’t buy a thrill appeared first on Birding Year.

In the end, despite the disappointment of missing a bird I’d scored in ’16, and in one sense spinning my wheels for a week, I finished the week with two really enjoyable days of absorbing the quiet and scenic nature of the place. Once I settled down after the intial disappointment of seemingly missing both the flycatcher and the Blue-footed Booby at Alamo Lake, I gave myself a good talking to, and began to properly appreciate the nice range of birds through NWR, including a few surprises like a calling Virginia Rail, and several flushing Wilson’s Snipes. I was cheered by the comical scampering of an indignant mob of maybe 30 Gambel’s Quail, and impressed by the beautifully schitzzo song, and irreverent shape and posturing of territorial Crissal Thrashers. These experiences registered an early high marks for my final month of American birding adventures.

Following are a few images of the habitat and surrounds. This is one of the myriad faces of Arizona that inspire my love of the state/State.

Arid Arizona

Bill Williams River Canyon

The wooded area above centre remarks the usually dry Bill Williams River, and the corridor of locales where Nutting’s Flycatchers have been occasionally sighted over much of the past decade. Problem is, most years only support one or two birds. Hence ‘resident species’ seems a stretch.

Accessing the corridor of trees is very difficult – and travel within the wooded areas is even harder due to extremely dense low-growing brush, mostly dead, overlaid and underlaid with fallen trees. Old trails marked with marker tapes tied to bushes are for the most part only marginally better than full-on bush-crashing, which is what I resorted to, along with creek walking in order to reach as much of the flycatcher habitat as possible during my six days of effort. Although not as arduous as some of the Hawaiian missions I undertook this year, it was frustrating and energy-sapping work, with ultimately no certain Nutting’s sounds, and no Myiarchus flycatcher sightings. Obviously it would have been wiser to visit during the Spring, but then if Spring had twenty extra days, I’d have gone to twenty extra places that priorities didn’t allow.

Typical ‘trail’ through the riverine habitat.

This stream, activated by recent rains, ran roughly parallel to the Bill Williams River – which was dry, and provided a god-sent avenue to the vicinity of areas I wanted to search. ‘God-sent’ doesn’t apply to the early period of creek walking, before I learned the hard way of the need to keep my camera in a waterproof bag within my day-pack. After a submersion of approximately 3 seconds, the lens, and camera fogged up, and were non-functional, until earlier-described heat/cold treatment breathed new life into the system, which is now working fine, except for slight grinding sound during auto-focus hunting.

Black-tailed Gnatcatcher

Orange-crowned Warbler

Bewick’s Wren

‘Butter-but’ – Yellow-rumped Warbler

Black-throated Sparrow – one of my favourite birds of the SW.

I really goofed re Black-headed Gulls. I’d been waiting for the first winter reports via the rare bird alerts – somewhat surprised at the lack of reports, considering how often the species was reported in November and December 2016. Steve Petersen, an Ontario birder, alerted me a couple of days ago that a BHGU that has been hanging around with 400 Bonaparte’s Gulls, and at least one Little Gull at Niagara Falls, just over the Canada border for about a week. I wondered why this bird hadn’t penetrated the eBird or NARBA rare bird alert system, and found that there had in fact been been numerous reports this Code 3 species in the Northeastern US and adjacent Canada in recent times, including during the period that I was up there ten or so days ago. Buggah! So I’m currently headed back that way with high hopes. Will let you lot know how it goes, if it goes. PS, two more delays for my United flight (big surprise), we’re now told there are ‘technical issues to be addressed, because your safety is our biggest priority. I hate United.

Got some old-time street religion while refuelling my filthy rental SUV in Phoenix prior to my flight to Buffalo this morning (Saturday). I liked what I briefly heard – about taking responsibility for yourself, and not being afraid to reach higher. I chimed in, if only to myself, in the circulating ‘Amens’.

Finally, a calendar check and adjustment to timeframe of last couple of days. There’s confusion beyond in my own head about this, so, with the benefit of my iPhone images to put places and dates together better, here’s where I’ve been and birds I’ve found and missed since returning from my latest Australian intermission. OH:  Also note that when my posts are uploaded, it is a day later in Australia. So if I post something on a Tuesday, it will have a date of Wednesday on it, when you read it.

Saturday, 23 November – Oahu, dipping on Yellow-faced Grassquit at several sites.

Sunday, 24 November – *Kona pelagic trip – fun, but no new species for year-list.

Monday, 25 November –

1. Ass-kicking but unsuccessful effort to get to Mariana Swiftlet roost.
2. Late afternoon, I ran into Amanda Damin for the umpteenth time this year, maybe because she’s nearly as crazy as me, at Yellow-faced Grassquit stakeout on western tip of Oahu.

Tuesday, 26 November – I continued YFGQ search in Oahu and successfully heard two birds near where Amanda and I had bumped into one another.

Wednesday, 27 November – I tried unsuccessfully for Blue-footed Booby at Alamo Lake, 2.5hrs drive NW of Phoenix.

Thursday, 28 November – overcame bad weather and no cars in Boston (Thanksgiving Day – who’d have thunk) to find Barnacle Goose in Massachusetts.

Friday, 29 November

1. Morning arrival at Northern Lapwing stakeout (with a car), only to bump into Amanda, as always. Its weird. Or maybe she thinks I’m a stalker. The bird never showed up.
2. We both agreed to look for Dovekies north of Boston. But I went south to areas I thought would be better for Purple Sandpiper, and with afternoon ripening, we spoke on phone and I pulled the pin. She went ahead, and sighted several Dovekies from her car window. I had dipped on the sandpipers, to add salt to the wound. Oh, but I did score an immature Great Cormorant.

Saturday, 30 November, I followed Amanda’s example, and saw at least two Dovekies in the high winds, trying to avoid hitting land. These were unfortunately not photographable for me. I also found two small groups of Purple Sandpipers, which were photogenic.

Sunday, 1 December I dipped again on the Blue-footed Booby at Alamo Lake, Arizona, despite investing in the cost and effort of paddling around in a kayak.

Monday 2 December – through to Friday the 6th (yesterday), I worked hard to dip on Nutting’s Flycatcher. That’s five days of search, not the six I earlier estimated; it seemed more like eight. I’m now on a layover at O’hara, Chicago, hoping for a Black-headed Gull at Niagra Falls Ontario tomorrow. But its a United flight. So yeah, of course, its now been delayed. The typical scenario is that once you get the first delay – this one just a half hour, and a gate change, it is as often as not, the beginning of a long process. I love American  Airlines, but too often their flights don’t work in my tight schedule, and I have to go with the underlings. Fingers crossed, it would be nice to get a good sleep tonight before trying for a potential new Big Year record.

*I sought advice widely about the appropriateness of going from Big Island to Oahu, with my only activity on Big Island being the pelagic trip, and I’m comfortable about my progressions in relation to ROD tree disease on Big Island.

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Bumper sticker wisdom 1

Bumper sticker wisdom 2

A quick PS to my down-mouthed Havasu update of yesterday. The good news is that my camera and lens were both resuscitated with the alternating heat and cold treatment throughout last night; the bad news is that I was unable to point it at any Nutting’s Flycatchers today, despite seven full hours of search along the Bill Williams River, where the species is thought to be resident year round, though as best as I can tell from the records, it could be that as few as one or two individuals only, have characterised sightings over the past five years.

I figured out today that  my ‘maybe heard’ Nutting’s yesterday was almost certainly an Abert’s Towhee – they are thick on the ground, and a part of their call repertoire is at least remotely similar to the much sought after ‘wheep’ of the much-wanted, but notoriously shy Mexican flycatcher.

This time I approached the Bill Williams River Reserve from the southern, easier access, though this made for a much longer walk to the cluster of four or five locales of Nutting’s Flycatcher sites of the past few years. Conditions were unusually wet.

Typical section of marked section of ‘the trail’. Note the trail markers leading from briar patch to briar patch.

It was a tough day of crashing through briars, and stream wading to access each and every location of the Nutting’s reports of the last five years. Its not so much the physical exhaustion and nagging back issues that weighed me down, as it was the fact that I spent seven hours hoping for the bird to show up – not so much because I wanted to see it, but admittedly, ashamedly, because I wanted to get the job over and done, so as to be somewhere else. It’s the sort of self-defeating bad attitude that American school kids call Spring Fever.  The country I traversed today would have provided a fascinating challenge at any time earlier in the year. The task of seeking out a rare flycatcher would have made it a wonderful adventure. Conditions were ideal – not hot, cool but not cold, overcast, and without breeze. There were plenty of fabulous non-target birds to see. But its December now. And maybe I’ve been doing this thing – mostly solo, for too long. Spending a few days back home from time to time this year (I think the tally is now 5 short trips to Australia) has probably made it harder – I know I didn’t want to get on a return flight last time.

There are some exciting things going on back at work, and I admit, I’m beginning to count the days. But my chief fan and critic, and co-conspirator in all of these activities – Tim, has threatened me with a knuckle-sandwich if I pull the pin before the proper end of the year. Motivation enough. But tomorrow’s another day – and whether or not I find a Nutting’s flycatcher, the aim is to be there -in both body and spirit for the experience. From there I’m going to head back to Alamo Lake, though its beginning to look as if the Blue-footed Booby mission will be chalked up as another ‘experience’, since the truth is that there have been no sightings now for a full three weeks. Maybe Florida after that?

Like yesterday, I found that the easiest way to travel was creek wading. Today I managed to not fall in and drown my camera.

This is what happens when you walk through cattails. On one occasion yesterday I partially inhaled the exploded contents of a cattail when I hit it with my face.

Crissal Thrasher

A cheeky Abert’s Towhee

Red-naped Sapsucker

This Say’s Phoebe was the closest thing to a Myiarchus Flycatcher I could muster.

Loggerhead Shrike

Black Phoebe

The post Another round appeared first on Birding Year.

Strong winds drove a range of ducks and seabirds, including Razorbills, Black Guillemots and Dovekies close to Halibut Point over the Thanksgiving long weekend; Big Year birder Amanda Damin’s success with the Dovekies on Saturday afternoon gave me cause for a Sunday morning visit. We had bumped into one another that morning at the fruitless Northern Lapwing stakeout south of Boston.

Scenic Massachusetts.

New England modest elegance.

Unsettled sky heading northwest from Phoenix.

Return to Alamo Lake, still hoping for a look at wayward Blue-footed Booby.

I purchased the smallest and cheapest kayak available at Phoenix Bass Pro Shop, with the aim of exploring entire coastline of Alamo Lake. I keep forgetting that I’m not 21 years old any more. I did manage to cross the lake and explore a portion of the coastal irregularities, but limped back to launch area with back spasms calling the game. Lots of ducks, grebes and herons – even a small congregation of White Pelicans, but no boobies. I stashed the kayak in the bush, and will return for round two in a few days.

Harder than it looks!

Driving the crazy road to Bill Williams Reserve near Havasu, Arizona, with Nuttings Flycatchers in mind. No success today, though I ‘may’ have heard the characteristic call of this rare species. Will give it another try tomorrow. Unfortunately, I once again forgot my age when crossing muddy creek, fell in, and drowned my expensive camera and lens. Things are not going to plan.

Bill Williams Reserve, but this is an atypically tame stretch – mostly it is a very difficult place to traverse. I’ll be back tomorrow, hopefully not cameraless, and without sloshy wet boots as per today.

I’ve used this technique in the past to revive drowned iPhones and camera lenses. Blast gear with heat (in this case the motel air conditioner), alternated by cold blasts, back and forth, leading to increased and decreased pressure within the device, effectively breathing humid air out, and drier air-conditioned air in. I keep a towel over tbe gear while the aircon does its thing. At time of writing, after a couple of hours, two loads of laundry, and three Fireball drinks in self-pity, its not looking so good for the home team.

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