In Search of Grosbeaks

Having learned that blue grosbeaks were recently sighted at Eagle Bluffs Conservation Area, a friend and I searched for them on our morning visit to that fabulous floodplain refuge.  As is often the case in nature, we failed to locate our quarry but saw many other species in the process; indeed, we encountered more than 45 avian species during our two hour visit.

Among the morning highlights was a large flock of American white pelicans, an abundance of great blue herons, a few bald eagles, a handful of great egrets and the usual mix of summer songbirds, dominated by indigo buntings, dickcissels, tree swallows and, of course, red-winged blackbirds; other sightings included yellow-billed cuckoos, eastern phoebes, eastern kingbirds, Baltimore and orchard orioles and a lone blue-gray gnatcatcher.

Fortunately, blue grosbeaks often stick around to raise a second brood and we should have more opportunities to observe these attractive summer residents before they depart for Central America and the Caribbean.  Whether those attempts will be fruitful remains to be seen but uncertainty fuels the joy of birding.

Symphony at Dusk

Drier air, a gentle breeze and cooler temperatures drew me outside this evening for a late-day survey of our property.  Since the trees are in full leaf and the daylight was fading, there was far more to hear than to see.

A rising background din was provided by annual cicadas that started their tune-ups earlier this week; crickets joined in as well, their chirps not near as intense as they will soon become.  As usual, the songs of robins and cardinals dominated the avian chorus, mellowed by the soft calls of mourning doves and the distant chatter of chickadees; not to be ignored, Carolina wrens delivered their loud, ringing tunes from hidden retreats.  Squadrons of chimney swifts twittered overhead and the sharp "peents" of nighthawks echoed from the darkening sky.  Some nights, though not this evening, the questioning call of a barred owl rises from the nearby woods, bringing dusk's symphony to a close.

To fully appreciate the diversity of our wild neighbors, we must come to know them by voice as well as by sight.  A pleasant summer evening offers a good opportunity to practice that skill.

Fish Crow at Eagle Bluffs

While surveying a large pool at Eagle Bluffs Conservation Area this morning, I heard a familiar call that echoed from over my left shoulder.  Turning to locate its source, I saw a crow flying across an open marsh, being chased by a trio of red-winged blackbirds.

The crow's call reminded me of lazy afternoons on the seawall at Longboat Key, Florida.  Indeed, this was a fish crow, more often associated with southern coasts but now increasingly common along the larger rivers of the eastern and central U.S.  Like their widespread cousin, the American crow, fish crows are omnivores, feeding on waste grain, berries, seeds, insects, bird eggs, stranded fish, small lizards, small mammals, carrion and human food waste; in fact, they are among the most relentless predators of eggs and nestlings at heronries and sea bird rookeries.

Distinguished from American crows by their slightly smaller size and distinctive, higher-pitched "nasal" call (contrasting with the harsh, raucous voice of their widespread cousins), fish crows generally gather in large flocks and move toward coastal estuaries during the colder months.  Until then, I and my birding colleagues along the Missouri River will lend an ear to their presence and enjoy a bit of audio from the coast in the American Heartland.

Chat Alley

At South Platte Park, in southwest Metro Denver, a trail meanders along a low ridge on the west side of Eaglewatch Lake.  Winding through a landscape of shrubby meadows, lakeside woodlands and groves of cottonwoods, this trail is one of the better avenues for observing woodland songbirds in the south Metro Area.

During the warmer months, yellow-breasted chats are especially common here, delivering their endless sermons from woodland pulpits, their colorful vestments glowing in the bright morning sun; I observed seven of them today, spaced along the ridge.  Other common summer residents include gray catbirds, broad-tailed hummingbirds, yellow warblers, Bullock's orioles, western pewees and house wrens; among the permanent residents are great horned owls, Cooper's hawks, northern flickers, cedar waxwings and black-capped chickadees and this lakeside ridge is a magnet for migrant warblers, vireos and other songbirds (e.g. western tanagers) that stop to rest and feed on their way to the mountains.

In addition, the "chat alley" trail offers broad views of Eaglewatch Lake, which attracts double-crested cormorants, American white pelicans, ospreys, bald eagles, western grebes and a wide variety of waterfowl in the course of the year.  The chats may steal the show on summer mornings but this lakeside ridge has much to offer in any season; the trail is best accessed from parking areas near C-470, via the southern Park entrance from Platte Canyon Road.

An Incessant Songster

Working on our Littleton farm this morning, I was serenaded by the calls and songs of many avian residents and visitors.  Dominating this background noise was the incessant song of a male lesser goldfinch, delivered from prominent perches throughout the property.

Arriving along the Colorado Front Range in late April or May, lesser goldfinches initially maintain their gregarious habits, roaming about to feed in weedy fields, across foothill shrublands or on the sunny slopes of lower canyons.  By late June, males begin to establish their territories, announcing that intent with long soliloquies of high pitched notes and whistles designed to attract a mate and keep other suitors at bay.

Like other species of goldfinches, lessers nest in mid-late summer, when the seeds of thistle and sunflowers are most abundant.  Once the young are fledged, these small, attractive songbirds congregate in large flocks once again, heading for the Desert Southwest, South Texas or Mexico before chilly autumn winds rake the Front Range.

A Mulberry Bonanza

It's a good year for mulberries along the Colorado Front Range.  Indeed, the mulberry trees on our Littleton farm are loaded with fruit, attracting a wide variety of wildlife.

American robins and house finches are the primary consumers, clogging the trees for most of the day; less common visitors include cedar waxwings, Bullock's orioles, spotted towhees and gray catbirds and wandering opportunists such as magpies and starlings.  Raccoons and skunks feed on fallen fruit as do red fox and coyotes that hunt on the farm.  While the red fruit on the weeping mulberry is sweet, we humans are not generally fond of the tart, white mulberries on the larger trees.

Of course, there is a drawback to this mulberry bonanza.  Two of the trees sit close to the house and, unfortunately, near the two entrance doors.  Despite the best efforts of our avian residents, most of the fruit ends up on the ground, on the roof and in the gutters; those that litter the entrance walkways are most problematic, requiring regular cleanup to keep squashed mulberries off the soles of our shoes and out of the house.

Summer Pelicans at Eagle Bluffs

American white pelicans breed on lakes across the Northern Plains and Great Basin of North America.  Come autumn, they migrate southward, often using staging areas along the way.  Pelicans that breed east of the Rockies generally winter along the Gulf Coast or lower Mississippi Valley while Great Basin pelicans head for the Central Valley of California, the Salton Sea, or coastal bays of Southern California and Mexico.  Some permanent, non-migratory colonies inhabit Florida, Texas and Mexico.

American white pelicans are not sexually mature until their third year.  Some of the young, non-breeding birds stay on their wintering grounds for the first two years while others migrate northward with the adults.  In either case, non-breeding white pelicans tend to wander about during the summer months and may turn up at attractive feeding sites throughout much of the U.S.

Indeed, a flock of American white pelicans has been present at Eagle Bluffs Conservation Area, in Central Missouri, over the past week and, as of this morning, their number had increased to 67.  While this summer flock is rather large (based on my experience), the total population of white pelicans has been steadily increasing over the past 50 years due to DDT elimination, hunter education and favorable habitat development (i.e. fish-stocked reservoirs).  It is thus likely that summer flocks of these magnificent birds will become increasingly large and widespread in the future (unless global warming decimates their breeding and fishing lakes).

Lark Sparrows

Lark sparrows are summer residents of the American Midwest, Great Plains and Great Basin; found primarily west of the Mississippi River, their range extends into southern Canada, across eastern portions of the Pacific Northwest and throughout lower elevations of California.  During the colder months, they head for the Desert Southwest, South Texas, the Gulf Coast region, Mexico and Central America.

The only member of their Genus, lark sparrows sport a striking facial pattern of white, black and chestnut-brown stripes, a white breast with a central black spot and a white edge at the end of their long tail; the latter edge, thicker laterally than centrally, is a good field mark for novice birders.  These handsome sparrows favor open grasslands with scattered shrubs or trees and are often found along country roads where they scour the gravel for insects and seeds.  When threatened, they often escape to dense vegetation rather than taking flight.

Lark sparrows seem to be more abundant at Eagle Bluffs Conservation Area (in central Missouri) this year but this may merely reflect a personal familiarity with these grassland birds that inhabit both of my home States.  Regardless, it's always good to see them as spring turns to summer.

A Stranded Duckling

Over the past two decades, I have made hundreds of visits to Eagle Bluffs Conservation Area, in Central Missouri, and have never failed to be inspired by its beautiful landscape and superb diversity of wildlife.  But nature offers both beauty and tragedy and, this morning, I was dismayed to observe a stranded duckling, swimming along the marshy edge of a floodplain pool.

The young wood duck may have prematurely left its nest box; however, he appeared well-developed and his siblings would surely have followed.  Perhaps he became separated from his mother and her brood but wood duck moms are very attentive.  This leaves the possibility that his mother was killed and that he is the sole survivor of her brood, the others picked off by water snakes, snapping turtles, great blue herons, mink, coyotes or bald eagles.

Few animals are as cute as a duckling and many humans would be inclined to rescue this youngster.  Naturalists, however, understand that it is best to minimize our impact on nature and that her cycle of life includes the death of young creatures.  A stranded duckling, sure to die without the guidance of his mother, is vital to this fabulous ecosystem, as important as the majestic eagles that survey its realm.

The Other Oriole

On this cool, sunny morning, an excellent variety of birds were moving about Eagle Bluffs Conservation Area, on the Missouri River floodplain; within 2 hours, I had observed 43 species.  Among these were a fair number of orchard orioles, the first I have seen this year.

Unlike their well-known Baltimore cousin, the male orchard oriole sports dark, rust-colored plumage, set off by a black head, chest, tail and wings.  Though a fairly common summer resident throughout the central and eastern U.S., it does not generally arrive until late spring and often leaves for wintering grounds (in Central and northern South America) by August.  Like most orioles, orchard orioles build a pouch-like nest that is suspended from a forked, distal limb of a shade tree; unlike most species, it is a colonial nester, often tolerating the close presence of other birds as well.

Orchard orioles prefer open woodlands, especially along streams.  While their name suggests a fondness for fruit, they feed primarily on insects during the summer months, snaring prey from vegetation or directing from the ground.  They do supplement their diet with berries, however, and, on their wintering grounds, consume the flowers and nectar of some tropical plants, playing a significant role in their pollination.

Glacial Lake Modoc

During the cool, wet climate of the Pleistocene, a large lake formed east of the Cascades in southern Oregon and northeastern California.  Known today as Glacial Lake Modoc, it had a surface area of 1100 square miles; its surface was 100 feet higher than that of Upper Klamath Lake, its largest remnant. Tule Lake and Lower Klamath Lake and their adjacent wetlands are also remnants of Lake Modoc, which extended eastward along the Lost River Valley and northward along the Wood, Williamson and Sprague Rivers that now feed Upper Klamath Lake.

Current geologic evidence suggests that the Upper Klamath Basin formed as a vast graben, divided by north-south trending fault-block ridges.  Glacial meltwater from the Cascades balanced outflow through the Klamath River which carved a spectacular canyon through the Northern Coastal Ranges of California to reach the Pacific.

Toward the end of the Pleistocene, as the climate warmed, the mountain glaciers retreated, inflow to Lake Modoc diminished and the lake level fell, exposing vast wetlands between the remnant lakes.  Of course, once European settlers colonized the region, wetlands were drained, rivers were dammed and tributaries were diverted for irrigation, producing the landscape that we find today.  Fortunately, some recovery has occurred with the establishment of the Lower Klamath, Tule Lake and Clear Lake National Wildlife Refuges and spectacular congregations of migrant waterfowl and shorebirds still visit the Basin.

Dickcissel Days at Eagle Bluffs

Driving through Eagle Bluffs Conservation Area this morning, it was clear that the transition from spring migrants to summer residents is well advanced.  Waterfowl were limited to Canada geese, wood ducks, a small flock of blue-winged teal and a few mallards; shorebirds, recently represented by large, mixed flocks are now limited to killdeer and spotted sandpipers.

With the exception of great blue herons, indigo buntings and the ubiquitous red-winged blackbirds, dickcissels were the most conspicuous birds this morning, delivering their distinctive song from the tops of reeds or shrubs; favoring open grasslands, pastures and weedy fields, these vocal, sparrow-like birds have recently arrived from wintering grounds in Central and South America.  They feast on both insects and seeds and will soon pair off and build a nest in the tall grass; 4-6 eggs are generally laid.

As the summer heat builds, dickcissels and other open country birds will dominate the scene as woodland species retreat to the cool shade of forests or riparian groves; already, these tree-dwelling birds are heard more than seen, active behind a dense canopy of leaves.  Throughout the summer months, those hoping to see these birds must arrive early or late in the day, when solar radiation is less intense and cool air settles across the floodplain.

A Formal Sendoff

Preparing to leave for Missouri this morning, I heard the distinctive call of an olive-sided flycatcher in the "backyard" of our Littleton, Colorado, farm.  Sure enough, the large-headed silhouette of that summer mountain resident occupied the end of a dead limb; he would intermittently dart out to snare a flying insect before returning to the same perch.  Though formally known as the olive-sided flycatcher, I have long thought he should be called the "tuxedo flycatcher" since his greenish-brown flanks part to reveal a vertical white band on his chest and abdomen.

Passing through the urban corridor on his way to the mountains, this insectivore will spend the summer near forest clearings or along the alpine timberline where he and his mate will aggressively defend their nest (usually placed in a conifer) from all intruders.  Olive-sided flycatchers breed from Alaska to eastern Canada and southward through the Western Mountains and higher stretches of the Appalachians; come September, they will head for wintering grounds in Central and South America.

As for ourselves, we left the farm by early afternoon and enjoyed sunny, mild weather as far east as central Kansas.  There, however, we encountered severe thunderstorms and stopped for the night in Hays, where tornado sirens sent us to the first floor hallway; fortunately, we escaped the brunt of the storms, receiving torrential rain and intense lightening.  Indeed, as I write this post, a spectacular light display continues to our east, promising more stormy weather when we reach Missouri.

A Plumbeous Vireo

During an otherwise unremarkable visit to South Platte Park this morning, I encountered a plumbeous vireo, hunting in shrubs west of Eaglewatch Lake.  Previously grouped with other vireo species under the title "solitary vireo," this gray and white songbird is now classified as a unique species; like all prior members of the group, it has prominent white "spectacles."

Plumbeous vireos breed along the Southern Rockies, from Colorado to Mexico, and across most of the Great Basin.  Primarily insectivores, they move rather slowly among the branches of trees and shrubs, snaring prey from the vegetation; berries are also consumed during the winter months when these songbirds head to coastal regions of Mexico and woodlands of Central America.

True to its former name, this morning's visitor, on his way to mountain forests, was alone.  Unlike many warblers and vireos, his feeding activity was unhurried and methodical, making identification easy in the bright Colorado sunshine.  Perhaps he'll stop by again when chilly September nights invade the Rockies.

Visitor from the Desert Southwest

On my usual birding walk at South Platte Park this morning, sightings were unremarkable except for a large number of yellow warblers and the presence of an ash-throated flycatcher.  The latter bird, rare along the Colorado Front Range, is a summer resident of the Desert Southwest, from western Colorado to California and from the northern Great Basin to Mexico.

Unlike most flycatchers, ash-throats generally snare their prey from foliage or directly on the ground; large insects, such as beetles and grasshoppers, are favored but they also consume berries and small lizards.  Nests are placed in the cavities of trees, fenceposts or nest boxes and two broods are raised each year.  Wandering widely during migrations, ash-throated flycatchers sometimes turn up on the East Coast; most winter in coastal regions of Mexico and Central America.

This morning's visitor was feeding on a wooded hillside, west of Eaglewatch Lake; on their home summer range, they are best found in pinyon-juniper or mesquite woodlands, along desert streams or in the canyons of desert ranges.  Adapting well to human habitation, ash-throated flycatchers are gradually expanding their territory and may soon be more common along the Front Range.

The White-tailed Kite

One of the highlights of our recent trip to California was our first sighting of a white-tailed kite, at Humboldt Bay National Wildlife Refuge, just south of Eureka.  Perched in a small grove of trees amidst an extensive wetland, the kite resembled a snowy owl (though out of place and out of season).

White-tailed kites are permanent residents of wooded grasslands and marshlands along the Pacific Coast (from Oregon to Baja), in southern Texas, in southernmost Florida and throughout Mexico, Central America and South America.  Formerly known as the black-shouldered kite, this light-colored raptor often hovers while hunting; small rodents are its favored prey but it also consumes snakes, lizards, frogs and large insects.  Breeding pairs generally produce four offspring each year and the population and range of these beautiful predators appears to be expanding.

It's one thing for a seasoned birder to discover a new life species by patiently stalking small songbirds in dense vegetation and quite another to be confronted by a theretofore unseen raptor, sitting in the open for all to see.  It was as if nature was extending a gift, a reward of sorts for years of enduring stiff necks, cold feet, insect bites and other maladies common to birders.  The gift was sincerely appreciated.

Back in the Basin

Since the high passes through the Sierra Nevada remain closed due to a heavy snowpack, downed trees and rock slides, we backtracked to U.S. 50 last evening and spent the night in Carson City, Nevada.  This morning, we traveled south on Route 395, along the eastern base of the mountains, headed for Mono Lake; approaching that famous remnant of the Pleistocene, we re-entered California, ascended along the West Fork of the Walker River, descended into the basin of Bridgeport Reservoir and then climbed onto the northern rim of the Mono Lake basin where we enjoyed a fabulous panorama of the lake and its surroundings.  For more details on the lake and its history, see the above link.

Stopping at the Visitor Center and three public access sites along the edge of the lake, we explored the tufa (calcium carbonate) formations and surveyed the open waters where thousands of eared grebes fed on brine shrimp; during the autumn migration, up to 1.8 million of these diving birds stop to rest and feed on Mono Lake.  Two pair of ospreys are currently nesting on the tufa formations but must travel to other regional lakes to catch fish, which cannot survive in the alkaline waters of Mono.  Other sightings included hundreds of California gulls and a single pair of ruddy ducks; according to local birders that we met, avocets, black-necked stilts and phalaropes, regular migrants and summer residents at Mono Lake, have not yet arrived.

Heading east across the Great Basin, we passed the northern end of the magnificent White Mountains; Boundary Peak, the highest point in Nevada, is at the northeast end of that Range.  Continuing along U.S. 6, we crossed the stark beauty of of central Nevada; the highlight proved to be the broad, scenic Railroad Valley, southwest of Ely, where Blue Eagle Peak rises along its eastern rim and Currant Mountain anchors its northern end.  After a night in Ely, we plan to visit Great Basin National Park and then head for Colorado.

Counting on the Coast

Today was designated Global Big Day by eBird, an effort to assess the health and diversity of avian populations across the planet.  Since we planned a morning visit to Mendocino Coast Botanical Gardens, just south of Fort Bragg, California, I decided to submit my observations from that location.

As we walked through the fabulous gardens, more birds were heard than seen but the wide diversity of foliage attracted an excellent variety of species; in addition, since the gardens extend to cliffs above the Pacific, a number of sea birds were observed.  Highlights of the morning count (which totaled 30 species) included pigeon guillemots, pelagic cormorants, Allen's hummingbird, olive-sided flycatchers, Steller's jays and a large number of white-crowned sparrows.  While my contribution to Global Big Day was modest, I was honored to participate and certainly enjoyed the experience.

South of the Gardens, we visited a magnificent sand dunes ecosystem at Manchester State Park and enjoyed a long, scenic hike to sea cliffs at Salt Point State Park.  Sea fog slowed our journey to Jenner where we turned inland, climbing along the beautiful Russian River; passing through the Coast Range, we escaped the fog and settled in a hotel room along Route 101.  Tomorrow we plan to visit the Point Reyes National Seashore before heading into San Francisco.

A Kite, Whales and a Glass Beach

Early this morning, my wife and I visited the Humboldt Bay NWR, just south of Eureka, California.  Once a vast saltwater marsh, the basin was later drained for agriculture and has since been restored for the benefit of resident and migrant water birds; riparian woodlands, cattail marshes, sloughs, lakes and tidal flats characterize the preserve.  During our visit, we were fortunate to observe a white-tailed kite (formerly known as a black-shouldered kite), a beautiful and common resident of the refuge and a new "lifer" for me; we also encountered black phoebes, California quail and a large flock of marbled godwits.

After our visit to the refuge, we headed south on Route 101, climbing along the scenic valley of the Eel River and its South Fork.  We then switched to Route 1, enduring countless hairpin turns as we crossed the Coastal Range.  Emerging along the Pacific Coast, our patience was rewarded with spectacular seascapes all the way to Fort Bragg.  Nearing that city, we turned into MacKerricher State Park, where we walked out to Seal Point and watched harbor seals as they lounged on the sea stacks or cruised the clear waters beneath the overlook.  While observing the seals, my wife noticed "whale spouts" far out to sea; close inspection with my binoculars revealed four humpback whales, identified by the contour of their backs and by their habit of raising their massive flukes as they dove to feed.  Needless to say, the sighting of these magnificent cetaceans was one of the highlights of our road trip to date.

But we could not end our day without visiting the "Glass Beach," in Fort Bragg.  Once used as a city dump site, the beach was reclaimed by the sea which sorted and recycled the debris, leaving smooth pebbles of glass amidst the shells and sand.  Once this beach of glass gained nationwide fame, visitors flocked to the site, walking off with samples of nature's handiwork.  As too often characterizes man's relationship with nature, we first abuse her ecosystems and then take advantage of her restorative powers; alas, the glass of Glass Beach is rapidly disappearing.

The Redwood Coast

The Siskiyou Mountains stretch from southwestern Oregon into northwestern California, separating the watershed of the Rogue River (to their north) from that of the Klamath River (to their south).  This morning, we drove northwest from Medford, Oregon, descending through the Rogue River Valley; after crossing the Rogue at Grants Pass, we headed southwest on Route 199, climbing back through its watershed along the Applegate and Illinois Rivers, two of its major tributaries.  Passing through the Collier Tunnel, we left the Rogue River watershed and entered that of the Smith River, which drains the southwestern end of the Siskiyous.

Descending along the Middle Fork of the Smith River, we stopped at the Jedediah Smith Redwoods State Park and explored the Stout Grove, one of the more pristine and scenic stands of redwood forest in California; walking among those giants, their shade supporting a rich understory of ferns, one is both inspired and humbled.  Moving on to Crescent City, we observed massive seabird colonies (mostly common murres) on Castle Rock and visited Point St. George where we encountered ospreys, black oystercatchers, whimbrels, black scoters, brown pelicans and a host of shorebirds; the highlight was provided by a peregrine falcon that swooped down at close range to snare an unwary sandpiper.

Heading south on Highway 101, we encountered herds of Roosevelt elk, drove through more stands of majestic redwoods and stopped at numerous overlooks to scan the ocean for whales, sea birds and sea lions.  While we failed to observe whales on this cool, foggy day, we did find a large colony of noisy pinnipeds, crowding a sea stack near Trinidad.  Tomorrow we continue our journey down the California coast.