December 13th & 16th, 2013: Little Bunting and Ferruginous Hawk

          Having birded northern California rather thoroughly, it's exciting when I get some lifers up here, because they've become so much harder to come by. So when my buddy Logan Kahle texted me that a Little Bunting had been sighted in McKinleyville, 25 minutes away from Humboldt State University, I knew what my next lifer would be. The only problem was that I had class until 3 o'clock that day, so I had to impatiently wait until then to chase the mega-rarity.

         As much as it killed me, I finally finished all my classes, and with another birder friend of mine (another student at HSU named Stephen Montaro), we were off to chase the bird. I've learned that when chasing a bird, one should never expect to see it. As pessimistic as this sounds, too many times have I overconfidently chased a bird, and wound up incredibly disappointed when I didn't see it. If you chase the bird with low expectations, and you miss the bird, you're not disappointed because you anticipated that. However, if you go in with low expectations and you do end up seeing it, the excitement of finding the bird increases tenfold!

         So we biked all the way to the Hammond Bridge, the bridge that crosses the Mad River, which was where the bird was seen. The second we crossed the bridge, we saw a horde of people with binoculars and spotting scopes. Call it a hunch, but we figured they were birders. So we joined them, and I even saw a friend from back home, Michael Park, who was just in Humboldt County and only heard of the Little Bunting once he was in Santa Rose (4 hours south), and decided to drive back. We asked if they saw it and one man pointed to his scope, and so I looked through to find myself looking dead-on at, by far, the greatest vagrant I had ever seen. This was the Lower 48's fifth record, California's fourth record, and Humboldt County's very first record. It was an exceptional find made by Keith Slauson, a local birder/biologist that lives just up the road from where he found the bird.

         Once I was able to pinpoint exactly where the bird was on the field in front of us, I put my own scope on it and just marveled at the pert sparrow. Little Bunting belongs to the family Emberizidae, along with our local White-crowned Sparrows, for example. In their native range, they breed all throughout Siberia and northern Eurasia, with some breeding populations in Sweden and Norway. They spend their winter in more tropical climes such as southern China or northern India. Reminiscent of our local Savannah Sparrows, this species is identified by its prominent rusty-brown cheek, its white malar stripe, its vague supercilium (more noticeable in breeding plumage), its black stripe reaching behind its eye, its eye-ring, and its white outer tail feathers.

Humboldt County's first-ever
Little Bunting

Humboldt County's first-ever
Little Bunting

         The tiny little bird caused quite the ruckus. I know people from the Bay Area and from the Sacramento Area that drove up to see this bird. I also met people that flew from Washington state, Florida and even Massachusetts to see this bird!

        I saw this bird on the Friday before finals week, so I didn't get to bird a whole ton that weekend. However, all my finals were on Monday, so I got them all done with early in the week. To celebrate, I decided to scour the Arcata Bottoms for any possible vagrants. Unfortunately for me, the birding was pretty slow, and I didn't come across anything major. However, as I was heading back to the dorms, I noticed this large raptor perched atop a telephone pole. I put my binoculars up and saw this was a Ferruginous Hawk! This regal species was long overdue for me, so when I saw this white and orange raptor, I was elated! 

Ferruginous Hawk

       This large raptor is a winter visitor to Humboldt County and is partial to open fields where it can perch atop poles, which serve as perfect vantage points to scope out small mammals to feed on. It earns its name Ferruginous Hawk by its rusty-orangish back, which was absolutely stunning to look at it in the light given by the sunset. It eventually flew off after 20 minutes of looking at it, and I kept on staring at it in awe. It was just a splendid species to see.

      The Little Bunting and the Ferruginous Hawk were certainly the highlights of this past week's brief birding. One was a vagrant that attracted a wave of birders from around the country, and the other was a personal victory that I was happy to have seen. Now I can officially say that I am on winter break, and that I will bird the heck out of it!

November 25th, 2013: Bayside to Coast Side

          During Thanksgiving Break, I came back down to the Bay Area to spend my week with the family. But of course, I took advantage of this week off to go birding as much as I could. On this Monday, I decided to visit two of my favorite birding locations in San Mateo County: Radio Road Ponds and Pillar Point Harbor. Radio Road Ponds is in Redwood City, on the bayside of the county, whereas Pillar Point Harbor is located in the town of El Granada, two minutes north of Half Moon Bay, on the coast. I used to visit these two locations very frequently back when I lived in Pacifica, so I was excited to go back and reminisce about all the good times I had spent and all the good birds I had seen there in the past.

American White Pelicans

          Accompanied by my dad, we headed off to Radio Road Ponds in the morning, hoping to find some good birds. It's very hard to go to these ponds and not have a good time, in my experience anyways. The second we arrived, we heard the honking and whistling of myriad ducks, the higher pitched calls of avocets, stilts and dowitchers, and the chipping of a nearby "butterbutts". Upon scoping the water, I didn't notice any duck species that wouldn't normally be seen there. That wasn't going to be until my visit to Pillar Point Harbor (spoiler alert!). I directed my scope towards the islands where I immediately spotted the massive flock of even more massive American White Pelicans, a species regularly seen on these islands during the winter months. This species is one of two regularly occurring pelican species in North America, the other being the Brown Pelican. Not only do these two species look extremely different, but they behave very differently and they are found in different areas. The Brown Pelican can be commonly found on the coast, plunging into the water from impressive heights. The American White Pelicans contrarily is found more inland (the bayside for example) and feeds in groups by circling around a school of fish and dipping the bills in the water, trapping the fish in their pouches. 

            Nearby these white behemoths were 13 smaller, but more elongated, Black Skimmers, a curious-looking species of tern. When I first observed them through my scope, all their heads were tucked in their wings, but a flyover Red-tailed Hawk caught their attention, and their heads popped out, perfect for me to capture a quick shot.

Black Skimmer

          These grotesque-looking birds earn their name "skimmer" because of the way they feed. That goofy lower mandible, that gives this bird the appearance of having an underbite, is actually the tool it uses to capture fish. It flies right above the water's surface, bill open, with its lower mandible below the surface. Once the hypersensitive bill feels a fish, it snaps shut ridiculously quickly, trapping its quarry without any chance of escape. 

        The only other notable bird at this location was a heard-only, flyover American Pipit, that made its distinctive three-noted flight call, like a higher pitched American Goldfinch's "po-ta-to CHIP" call. Surprisingly this bird was a county lifer for me!

            This concluded our stint at Radio Road Ponds. My dad and I then drove along Highway-92, which connects the bayside and the coast, all the way to Half Moon Bay to go to Pillar Point Harbor. 

Brant

When we arrived, the first birds we noticed were a raft of various coastal duck species, such as Buffleheads, Surf Scoters and Common Goldeneyes. As we walked onto the beach, I was surprised by how few shorebirds there were. A Sanderling and a few Black-bellied Plovers were the only shorebirds present.  I then noticed two Brants, a handsome species of goose, adorned with a smart "necktie". These two obliging individuals were just asking to have their photo taken, so I ceded and granted them their wish.

          After photographing the geese and some nearby gulls, I decided to scope through the rafts of ducks in the harbor. The most abundant species was by far the colorful, but obnoxious looking Surf Scoter, the most common species of scoter in San Mateo County. 

Surf Scoter

          Suddenly, as I panned through the large flock, I noticed a lighter colored duck that looked different from the others. I knew exactly what it was. I had just found a Long-tailed Duck! Previously known as the "Oldsquaw", this species breeds high up in the arctic circle, and comes as far down as California to winter. Seeing one of these birds off the coast of San Mateo county isn't an irregular sight. It certainly is worth reporting, but it does occur regularly. However, finding this species inside of the harbor is a different story. Local experts informed me that in the past decade, this species has become increasingly difficult to find inside the harbor. They were once easier to find, but now it is extremely difficult. This bird was a county lifer for me, and just a great sight to see! I had only seen this species once before, up in Humboldt County off the North Spit.

Long-tailed Duck

         This concluded my morning of birding, where I began at Radio Road Ponds of the bayside of San Mateo County and finishing on the coast at Pillar Point Harbor. The Long-tailed Duck certainly was a splendid way to end the morning, but the up-close Brant, the stunning Black Skimmers and the astonishingly large American White Pelicans were just as wonderful to see.

November 3rd: Birding with friends from back home

         Earlier in the week, I received a phone call from my good friend Peter Metropulos, a birding legend of San Mateo County. He wanted to tell me that he was coming up to Humboldt County for birding with Francis Toldi, another good friend of mine, and wanted to know if I was available on that weekend to go birding at all. Although I had a Zoology midterm on that monday, I had been studying all that week strenuously, and I felt rather prepared, so a long, hard day of just birding was well-earned. So it was decided that they would pick me up at 7:00 AM outside my dorm on Sunday, November 3rd, and we would head up to Del Norte County for a jam-packed day of all-out birding.

         Once they picked me up and caught up after a few months of not seeing each other, we were off to our first stop, Point Saint George, a known location for sea watching in the county. Having my new scope and new camera, I felt prepared to find and identify every species, and snap a shot of any interesting species we would find. Once we got there, the first birds I noticed were a cluster of "rock-pipers", consisting of Surfbirds and Black Turnstones, two species restricted to the west coast of the North America. Unfortunately, my target species wasn't present within that cluster. This species is the Rock Sandpiper, a species that breeds further up north, and winters as far down as Humboldt County. Humboldt and Del Norte being the only counties in California where this species is regularly found, this species is one that I am especially after. Maybe next time. This sea watch was rather fruitful. We had several hundreds of Pacific Loons fly south in flocks numbering from 3 to 65. There were also large numbers of Surf Scoters and almost as many White-winged Scoters migrating south.

Female White-winged Scoter

            I was also able to pick up three distant Bonaparte's Gulls just beneath the horizon. I was able to identify them by noticing their small and daintier appearance than the nearby Western Gulls, and their all white outer primary feathers. Soon afterwards, I noticed two other small gulls, but this time with black outer primary feathers. These were juvenile Black-legged Kittiwakes, a species that was a lifer for me exactly a week before. Although this species winters as far south as Southern California out at sea, they are much easier to see from shore in Northern California, which is why I hadn't seen one until so recently.

Juvenile plumaged Black-legged Kittiwakes

            The only other highlights from that sea watch were a flock of about ten Red-breasted Mergansers headed south and my first-of-season Mew Gulls. Because birding had started slowing down, we decided to leave and head to our next destination: Lake Earle. We stopped at the Lake Earle

boat ramp. Although not a particularly known spot, we nonetheless found some great birds. Beset by reeds, were heard the "barking" of Song Sparrows and the rattling of Marsh Wrens. Francis and I noticed a particularly small gull on an islet just off the end of the boat ramp. It was a Bonaparte's Gull offering much better views than the 3 we saw while on our sea watch.

Bonaparte's Gull

             As we observed the small larid, Peter called out "Swamp Sparrow!". Excited we both rushed to where he was and looked for it. After a little pishing, the juvenile Swamp Sparrow popped out and gave me the best view I've ever had of this species. Although this species is typically found on the east coast, they are regular vagrants to California. I actually remember finding one last year in Humboldt County at the Humboldt NWR. It was a pleasant find that certainly made this random spot a little more special. Aside from these two birds, this spot didn't yield all that many species, so we decided to leave and head to a road where we would search for a lingering mega-rarity. 

             A few years ago, a Crested Caracara, a species of falcon found from the southwest all the way down to South America, was sighted 15 minutes from Lake Earle in Del Norte County. It has persisted in this location ever since, it hasn't migrated back down south. Unfortunately, caracaras are scavengers which means that they'll fly far distances in search of food, meaning that there isn't a spot where this individual was for sure going to be seen; it could be several miles away. We searched for about an hour at a dairy farm, seemingly great habitat, but our search ended up unsuccessful. We took a break and headed to the Smith River and see if we could find any interesting waterfowl or any peculiar gulls. Much like the dairy farm, this spot didn't yield all that many species either. However, we did find a gorgeous male Common Merganser.

Common Merganser

            After returning to the dairy farm, and searching for the caracara once again to no avail, we decided it was time to head back to Humboldt County. As we were driving we realized it wasn't all that late, so I proposed we go down to the Ferndale Bottoms and search for some migrating hawks or shorebirds.

            We stopped at a quaint taquería in Crescent City for a late lunch, and made our way all the way down to Ferndale, which was about 1 hour south from Del Norte County. The day was ending slowly, the sun began to set, and once we arrived, the sound of Killdeer surrounded us. Suddenly, a huge flock took off and landed in a nearby field, so we pulled over in front of that field and began scoping through. As we did so, Peter pulled out a Pectoral Sandpiper! A species that is starting to get a little late given the date. Then I pulled out two more, which made for a total of three! Not bad at all!

Pectoral Sandpiper

         Suddenly, Peter called out "Pacific Golden-Plover!" I immediately asked where he was seeing this bird, for this would have been an ABA bird for me (I had seen them on Kaua'i before, which isn't within ABA boundaries). He directed me to it and I then saw this thin, slender-billed and golden-colored plover. 

Pacific Golden-Plover

          This plover was the last highlight of the day, and made for a great way to end it. Birding with friends from home in my new hometown was really fun. It also made me realize how much I missed home, and made me even more excited to head back for Thanksgiving break. The highlights of the day were certainly the Swamp Sparrow, the Pectoral Sandpipers and the Pacific Golden-Plover. Birding is always fun, but it's birding with your close friends that make it a really special experience.

October 11th, 2013: Birding with my New Scope

            This summer, while moving my spotting scope from the backseat to the trunk, the eye-piece fell off without me knowing. Without an eye-piece, a scope is futile. So I have been birding "scopelessly" for 3 months. However, having accumulated an impressive amount of tip money as a busboy, I was finally able to purchase myself a new scope, a Swarovski HD-ATS 65mm (high-end stuff!). When I got an email saying I had a new package waiting for me in the mailroom, I got extremely excited! I knew exactly what awaited me, and that my weekend would consist in playing around with my new toy (in spite of my extensive homework).

            The first place I wanted to go birding with my spotting scope was the Arcata Marsh and Wildlife Sanctuary. Only 5 minutes to bike there from Humboldt State University, it's extremely accessible and incredibly birdy. Right when my Zoology teacher excused the class, I ran to my dorm, dropped off my backpack and took my birding optics and biked off. The sun was out and the birds were singing. Red-winged Blackbirds hopped around in the reeds, and a Belted Kingfisher flew by, making its machine-gun-like rattling. Seeing and listening to all of this commotion really got me excited to put my scope to the test and see how effective it was. I came across this pond with a myriad of duck species. I was hearing Green-winged Teals peeping and Gadwalls quacking before I even got off my bike and looked through my binoculars. But before I did that, I set my scope onto the tripod. Once it was set, I looked through and my heart skipped a beat. The absolute clarity and sharpness was mind-blowing. The foraging anatids were crystal clear, and every single one of their features was noticeable. As I panned through the large duck flock, I came across a curious-looking wigeon. It was overall rufous, but had hints of green behind the eye. I would've called it a Eurasian Wigeon, but it just didn't look right. I realized later that it was in fact a hybrid American X Eurasian Wigeon, an annual migrant here in Humboldt, notably the marsh.

American X Eurasian Wigeon

           This was an unexpected find, but an interesting one at that. I then made my way to Klopp Lake, the largest pond in the marsh, along the edge of the bay. The two first birds that I noticed were two Surf Scoters. Typically sea birds, they only rarely part from salt water outside of the breeding season. So it was cool to these two fella's paddling and diving in this freshwater pond. On the island were countless numbers of Willets, Marbled Godwits and Long-billed Dowitchers congregating. Greater Yellowlegs made their 3-toned calls as they flew over and a Great Blue Heron grotesquely squawked when it landed on one of the islands, sending the bevy of shorebirds airborne. My first of fall Eared and Horned Grebes socialized with one another, and single female Hooded Merganser dove in the water, certainly pursuing some small fish or crustaceans. I then noticed on an electric tower a magnificent Red-shouldered Hawk. I couldn't pass up this opportunity, so I put my scope on it and began digiscoping, my new craze.

Red-shouldered Hawk

         I then made my way to the George Allen marsh, where the first birds I noticed were a group of 6 Wood Ducks, 3 males and 3 females. 

Drake and Hen Wood Duck

        Aside from these stunning ducks, there wasn't much else. The sun was starting to set, so I retrieved my bike and began riding back to school. As I was heading back, I noticed something on the peripheral of my right eye. I stood out, but quite subtly. I put my bins on it, and to my excitement, there was an American Bittern standing perfectly still, scanning the water in front of it for possible prey. I was so excited to get this bird in the scope. Bitterns are personal favorites of mine, and this was just the third time I had ever seen this species. It didn't move, so it offered outstanding views through the scope.

American Bittern

         All in all, the birding this day wasn't quite out of the ordinary. It was just another regular day at the marsh (which is always a good time!). However, this was the first time I used my scope, so it made this day that much more special. The views I earned of regular species really did make this experience an exciting one. I now cannot wait for the next time I go out birding and get to use my scope once again. 

My new Swarovski ATS-HD 65 mm!

September 14th, 2013: Never Give Up!

                   One of the many trials of birding is the patience needed to look for a bird. Sometimes you'll be birding at your local patch, and it will be so slow that you won't even be hearing any Black-capped Chickadees. Or you'll be chasing a vagrant for hours and you'll leave without even the slightest glimpse of the sought-after bird. My story here will be talking about the latter. Rather than going through my entire day and listing all the species I saw, I'm going to talk about a brief part of my day of birding. This anecdote will talk about our chase of a staked out Stilt Sandpiper on Port Kenyon Road, in Ferndale, an annual, but scarce, species in Humboldt county.

                  After having participated in Rob Fowler's monthly survey of Shay Park, where we were able to relocate an Ash-throated Flycatcher and a Vesper Sparrow, the former being a good bird for the patch, and the latter being a good bird for the county, Samantha Bacon, an enthusiastic beginner birder, a buddy of mine, Stephen Montano, that also attends Humboldt State University, and I decided we wanted to chase the staked out Stilt Sandpiper. This bird would have been a state lifer for me, and an all-around lifer for my two cronies. Rob and two other birders that participated in the survey decided to join. The more the merrier! We drove down from the town of Arcata to Ferndale, approximately a 30-minute drive. We finally arrived, and made our way to the edge of the slough where the bird had been sighted. There was a remarkable amount of shorebird activity, from the typical peep species, to both species of yellowlegs and the ubiquitous Killdeer. Unfortunately, our dowitcher-emulating species eluded us. We decided to walk down the bank, where every step was a gamble, as the mud rendered the terrain near-impossible to walk on without slipping and either falling on your posterior or falling into the murky water. The best bird that our endeavor yielded was a single Wilson's Snipe, a county lifer for me. But we hadn't driven 30 minutes and risked ruining our optics by falling into the repulsive water to see a snipe. We wanted the Stilt Sandpiper. We spent a good hour and a half walking up and down the bank without sighting our bird. Being realistic, we decided to call it quits and head out.

                    Before returning to Arcata, Rob wanted to stop at a known shorebirding location and see what there was to see. A tad more productive, we came across a Common Murre and a bevy of shorebirds, including my county Snowy Plover. Satisfied with our finds, we finally thought it was time to head on out. Rob's gray 4x4 led the path and we slowly followed it, our excitement and enthusiasm we had prior to our arrival virtually gone. However, as Rob's car made a left at a T-Intersection, Samantha turned right. Puzzled as to why she did that, I asked her what she doing. She then said that she was determined to find the bird, for she was extremely looking forward to this sighting. So we were heading back to the end of Port Kenyon Road, back to the same slough. I unenthusiastically exited the vehicle, because all this place reminded me of was the failed attempt at seeing a fantastic species. I peered through my binoculars at the end of the bank and noticed a cluster of yellowlegs, both Greater and Lesser, but I don't notice anything else. This is when Samantha asked me what she was looking at (she knew it wasn't a regular bird). All of a sudden, my excitement grew ten-fold. I looked through the scope and there it was: our Stilt Sandpiper! It was preening itself, but the longer, decurved bill, and the broad supercilium were still quite evident. It was actually in the middle of the group of yellowlegs I was looking at with my binoculars. We slowly approached the bird, which it didn't seem to notice, and we began digiscoping it. Right afterwards, Rob called me asking where he had gone, and I informed him about the bird. He was back in less than five minutes. We all earned incomparable views as it mingled with the adjacent yellowlegs.

                  This little anecdote just goes to show that patience and persistence are the traits that are needed when birding. Haste and impatience are key to avoid seeing any species. If I had gone chasing that bird on my own, not only would I have missed it the first time, but I wouldn't have bothered returning and trying for it a second time. So thank you Samantha Bacon for your optimism and unwillingness to give up! It earned us a great bird, a great time, and a great life lesson.

Stilt Sandpiper
(notice the long, decurved bill,
and the broad suprcilium)

July 16th, 2013: Parque Nacional de las Bardeñas Reales

              This was the final day of legitimate birding in Europe. This sad realization became my motivation and drive to make the final excursion worth it. I decided that I wanted to bird somewhere in Spain, outside of Zaragoza, known for boasting two species of sandgrouse and bustards. Unfortunately, motivation wasn't quite enough fulfill my yearning. It turned out we didn't know how to get there! Despite having the directions on my phone, we were incapable of figuring out how to get there. We endeavored and kept on searching, but after driving for about 2 hours without any idea if we were approaching or distancing ourselves from the preserve, we decided it was time to head home. I was upset, and I didn't want do anything but mope around for the remainder of the day. But then my dad remembered of this reserve where he used to go biking when he was younger. This was the "Parque Nacional de las Bardeñas Reales". Once we arrived, my enthusiasm started increasing again, and I was ready to bird there.

              Spain is a very arid country, and much of its terrain is actually dry, open steppe. This is exactly what this environment was like: dry and arid, and not to mention hot. As I was admiring this unforgiving terrain, I noticed a long, gray bird perched on a wire. I immediately told my dad to pull over so I can observe it, and thank goodness I did so because this bird ended up being my lifer Southern Gray Shrike. This species was once known as the Iberian Gray Shrike, and rightfully so because its range extends throughout much of the Iberian Peninsula. Although it is also found in parts of southern France, so that name had to be corrected.

Southern Gray Shrike
(notice the long body, the gray head, and the black mask)

               We continued driving and I noticed European Goldfinches and Eurasian Linnets along the side of the road. A European Bee-Eater made an appearance as it hovered around, chasing some flying invertebrates. And best of all, my lifer Corn Bunting flew onto the road, directly in front of the car. The most distinctive field mark on this bird to me was its uniquely shaped bill, although the streaking all along the body was also a tell-tale field mark I paid attention to. 

               As we drove, a large flock of passerines emerged from the ground. I could tell these were all larks. But, they were flying so quickly and so high up, that identifying them was very difficult. On one of the larks, I noticed a black undertail which I learned, after referring to my field guide, was characteristic of a Greater Short-toed Lark, my first lifer. I was able to snag a shot of it when it landed on the ground which shows some of the field marks.

Greater Short-toed Lark
(notice the broad supercilium, and the bare chest)

            Another species of lark in this flock, and more abundant too, was the Calandra Lark, a more widespread and distinctive species. This larger species was easy to pick out of the flock, as it looked remarkably different from the other species. 

Calandra Lark
(notice the orange on the crown and the supercilium)

Calandra Lark
(notice the supercilium, the back pattern,
and the overall chunky appearance)

                The flock flew further off, and decided to continue down the empty road. The heat was sweltering and it became extremely uncomfortable. In the back of my head, I was actually hoping that the auto-tour route was coming to an end, but as I thought this my next lifer flew into view. It was a Black-eared Wheatear, a species I really wanted to see! With its upright posture, it perched elegantly atop a rock. Far from modest, this bird knew it was handsome and was showing it.

Black-eared Wheatear
(notice the black face and wings, and the light beige elsewhere
on the body)

             Another unexpected surprise was a Tawny Pipit that skittered along the side of the road. I hadn't this species since I was in the Camargue National Reserve, so it was a pleasant sight indeed.

Tawny Pipit
(notice the Anthus structure, and the black markings on the face)

                Finally the auto-route ended, and we were homebound. However, just before leaving, I noticed two starlings perched on a wire. Anywhere else in Europe I wouldn't have paid much attention to them, but in Spain there are two species of starlings: the ubiquitous European Starlings, and the sought-after Spotless Starlings. We pulled over, and to my excitement, these birds were indeed Spotless Starlings! My final lifer of the day, I was ecstatic to see this species because this species was part of the reason why I wanted to go out to Spain. Unfortunately, the only shot I was able to take of this species was rather distant and blurry.

Spotless Starlings
(no distinctive field are visible in this photo)

               This concluded my day in Spain, and basically my trip to Europe. I managed to rack up a total  of a little under 150 species, and I got 97 lifers! This was a fantastic trip, and I cannot wait for my next trip to Europe. Any birder visiting Europe should really take advantage of it and bird as much as they can, because you never know what you will find!

Parque Nacional de las Bardeñas Reales

July 11th, 2013: Hartza Mendi

              After having birded Mount Iraty the previous day, I was excited to see what we come up with at a different location but of the same habitat. That day, my dad brought us to a mountain called Hartza Mendi. In Basque, "mendi" means mountain and "hartza" means bear, so this location translates to "Bear Mountain". Unfortunately, we dipped on any Pyrenean Brown Bears, but that was made up for with the great birding.

              As we ascended the road, a raptor caught my eye and I immediately told me dad to pull over. I rightfully did so because this bird that I was about to pass as a Common Buzzard turned out to be my lifer Short-toed Eagle. It had the distinctive brown chest and barred underbelly and underwings. This was exciting, because the end of our trip was nearing and I hadn't seen this species yet. I was under the impression that this species was relatively easy to see, so I was going to be greatly disappointed if I missed it. It didn't stick around, so I wasn't able to snap a shot of it before it soared off. Another fun bird we came across was a perched Red-backed Shrike, a species I hadn't seen since we were in the Petite Camargue in the Alsace.

Red-backed Shrike
(notice the namesake red back, the black mask,
and the gray head)

                   As we observed this superb shrike, a Mistle Thrush flew onto a nearby telephone wire, offering amazing views. We finally made it to the top, and we began walking down the main trail. One of the first birds I noticed on the trail was surprisingly a Tree Pipit, a species I hadn't seen since I was on Mount Pilatus in Switzerland. This bird was quite obliging and offered great views and opportunities to study its field marks: the thick breast stripes and thin stripes on flanks.

Tree Pipit
(notice the thick breast stripes,
and thin flank stripes)

            As we walked, the activity was disappointing and I wanted to head back, but my dad insisted because he knew of a spot further down the trail where you have a fantastic vantage point over soaring vultures. Knowing that I would regret passing up an opportunity like that, I decided to trek on. Thank goodness I did because about 20 feet in front was my lifer European Stonechat, another bird I was worried that I would miss. This bird earns its name "Stone"chat from its distinctive call that sounds like two small pebbles hitting each other.

European Stonechat
(notice the black head and back, the white patch on the shoulders,
and the rufous-orange breast)

                 As we continued walking, we noticed some more species such as Black Redstarts & more Mistle Thrushes. Soon after, we approached the promontory that my dad was talking about, where we could see all the vultures. I hadn't ever seen Eurasian Griffons at such proximity before, so I was really taken aback. It was quite a sight indeed.

  

Eurasian Griffon
(notice the elongated neck, the massive bill,
and the brown back and wings)

Eurasian Griffon
(notice the white underwings,
and the "finger"-like primaries)

                  As we admired these soaring Old World vultures, a Peregrine Falcon quickly zipped by, and landed on a nearby rock. This species had been a nemesis of mine for the longest time, and I hadn't seen one before August of 2012 when I went to Camp Chiricahua. Once I saw that first individual, I began noticing them more often. It was as if I had broken the curse! So I was glad to know that the curse was broken on a global-scale and not just within the ABA region.

Peregrine Falcon
(notice the slaty-gray mantle,
the white underparts, and the yellow cere)

               But my excitement only increased when another falcon decided to chase and nag the falcon perched on the rock. They began racing along the cliffside and dive-bombing each other. I could feel my own adrenaline pumping when I was watching these two raptors in this high-speed pursuit. 

               Unfortunately, these two speed-demons continued their chase on the other side of the cliff walls, out of sight. We thought it would be wise to leave on this note, so we resumed our trek up the fern-bordered trail. We were just about done with the hike, and we were almost at the car, when something yellow flies from the trail into the ferns. I intensively pished, and finally my efforts proved fruitful as I put my binoculars up to a Yellowhammer, a species I hadn't seen since I visited the Black Forest in Germany.

Yellowhammer
(notice the overall yellow and the rufous on the back)

         This concluded our morning on Hartza Mendi, and with two lifers, I would say that it was a good morning.

July 10th, 2013: Mount Iraty and the Pyrenees

               It was nice to be back in my homeland, in the Basque Country, and breathe the fresh mountain air every morning. During my previous trips to Europe, we would always spend all our time in the Basque Country, and visit areas in the vicinity. So it was interesting to begin our trip to Europe in Switzerland and end it in the Basque Country. It was also interesting because this would be the first time I ever go birding in the Basque Country, despite my numerous trips in past, which is why I was very excited when my dad told me he wanted to bring me to this spot where he used to go hiking when he was younger.
               This locale is the Mount Iraty, one of the myriad summits that compose the Pyrenees, connecting the Atlantic Ocean to the Mediterranean Sea. My dad remembers seeing many raptors here when he was younger, so I was optimistic about our day. As we ascended, we could see the small villages in the valley decrease in size. We finally pulled over and seated ourselves in some old, dilapidated hunting blinds, used during open season to hunt migrating pigeons (which fortunately wasn't the case when we were there). The first birds we began noticing when we were in the blinds were a few Eurasian Griffons, the emblematic birds of the Basque Country that have been subjects of the numerous tales in Basque folklore. Although their ranges are somewhat restricted in Europe, they are nonetheless abundant within that range. I remember being a kid in the Basque Country and seeing the sky darkened by the sheer numbers of these soaring raptors. Although there weren't quite as many of these raptors at this time, it was nonetheless exciting to see, as it had been a few years since the last I had seen these birds.

Eurasian Griffon
(notice the broad wings with "fingers" at the tips,
and the white on the underwings)

                 As these vultures flew above us, another raptor flew above us but in the other direction. It was a gorgeous Red Kite, and it offered sublime views, where I was able to see the intricate underwing pattern.

Red Kite
(notice the distinctive angled wings and long, "forked" tail,
the white strip on the primaries and the red tail)

               Aside from the raptors, the blinds didn't yield much of interest. However, as we were heading back to our vehicle, I noticed something zip by quickly. My instinctual thought was "hummingbird", but I realized how preposterous that statement was, right as I thought it. It turned out this was actually a species of sphinx moth, a moth that rapidly beats its wings, and gleans the nectar from flowers thanks to its remarkably long proboscis. It was an exciting find indeed.

Sphinx Moth

             The remainder of our day consisted in driving along the tortuous and meandering road, and stopping whenever we spotted anything. The first bird we stopped for was a Water Pipit, a species I previously saw, for a brief moment, while on Mount Pilatus in Switzerland. My previous views were fleeting, so I was happy to see this pipit perched atop a pole in plain sight, being a cooperative subject, unlike every other bird on that continent.

Water Pipit
(notice the supercilim, and the sharp beak)

Water Pipit
(notice the distinctive face pattern, the dark scapulars,
the faint streaking on the flanks, and the buffy underbelly)

                I hopped out of the car to get better shots of this bird, and as I did so, I noticed the a decently-sized kettle of raptors circling, so I decided to study each bird, to enhance my european raptor identification. They were all Eurasian Griffons and Red Kites, the most expected raptors at this altitude. However, I noticed a thinner and smaller raptor circling with them, further away from the main kettle though. It had a white body with black primaries and secondaries. I suddenly gasped, and realized that this was an Egyptian Vulture, a species that I didn't think I would see at all! Unfortunately, it flew off before I could snap a shot of it, but I was still enchanted but this unexpected sighting.

                We continued driving and we noticed another kettle. After our exciting find, we figured it would be wise to scrutinize this flock as well. Although there weren't any raptors of interest in this area, I noticed a medium-sized passerine hopping along the rocks. It finally perched on top of an open rock, and I was able to identify this bird as a Northern Wheatear. I was worried that I would dip on this species during my time in Europe, so I was greatly relieved when this stunning bird made an appearance. 

Male Northern Wheatear
(notice the black face mask and wings, the gray back,
and the sharp beak)

                I had studied this bird many times in the past (in hopes of perhaps coming across one in the Bay Area), but never truly realized the subtle elegance of this bird. Seeing how clean and crisp this alternate plumaged adult appeared, it made me realize how spectacular this species actually is.

                As the wheatear flew off, we too drove off. We came across a large flock of choughs, so we pulled over to check them out. But as we did so, I saw a white figure slowly drifting in our direction. It was the Egyptian Vulture! It had returned, offering me another chance to photograph it. It flew right above us, and we earned incomparable views that have been indelibly engrained in my memory. It was truly an incredible sight and the photos do not do justice to the magnificence of this bird.

Egyptian Vulture
(notice the yellow head, the white body,
and the black primaries and secondaries)

            To our dismay, this bird didn't stick around, and as soon as it arrived, it vanished. Now that we weren't distracted, we could focus on the massive chough flock. I assumed they were all Yellow-billed Choughs, but when I put my binoculars up, I realized that this massive flock consisted entirely of Red-billed Choughs, another lifer!

Red-billed Choughs
(notice the the all-black bodies and the decurved, red bills)

Flock of Red-billed Choughs

             The flock soon dispersed and I started heading back to the car. But as I do so, some movement in a nearby shrub caught my attention. I looked to find my lifer Dunnock, a species notorious for being difficult to spot due to their surreptitious behavior and cryptic plumage. Also known as the Hedge Sparrow, this species frequents a variety of habitats, but tends to stick with thickets and other shrubs, which explains its presence here up in mountains. Not only that, but it also had a chick with it, peeping stridently.

Dunnock
(notice the brown mantle with darker streaks,
the gray body and the streaks along the flanks)

           This concluded my first day of birding in the Basque Country. Seeing some species typical to alpine climates was very fun, and the lifers sure made this outing that much more special. After a phenomenal first day, I couldn't wait to see what else the Basque Country had in store for me.

The view from the top of Mount Iraty

July 7th & 8th, 2013: Third day in the Camargue National Reserve and the Cirque de Gavarnie

                      The morning of July 7th was the morning of our final day in the Camargue National Reserve. My father and I had basically visited all the best spots of the reserve and we really didn't know where else to go. My dad then proposed we visit the town of Aigues-Mortes in the "Petite Camargue". As we drove through the small city (as it wasn't quite small enough to be called a "town"), I was discouraged because it didn't seem like there would be any suitable habitat to bird there. Then I noticed a large pond with several flamingos on it. I figured that birding this pond, lined with paths frequently used by joggers, dog-walkers and bikers, was better than driving around aimlessly and burning daylight. So we parked and began walking down. There weren't any birds of interest on the pond, just the regular stilts and gulls that abounded elsewhere. Suddenly this small white bird began bouncing over the small and dispersed flocks of the aforementioned. In noticed its black outer primaries and very stubby tail immediately and was able to determine that this was a Little Tern without even putting my binoculars up. This bird was fun because I had only seen it once before. But so far, that was the best bird. This pond was remarkably desolate. However, it wasn't that surprising when the surrounding highway, boisterous passersby and sound pollution were taken into account. As we approached the end of the trail, I was contented to find a few Common Shelducks sitting on a few islands, with their red-knobbed bills tucked into their wings. Suddenly I noticed a large gull movement in the sky above us. I immediately assumed these were some Yellow-legged Gulls, but they looked a little off. Curious as to what they were, I put my binoculars up and found myself looking at about 30 Mediterranean Gulls flying west. I read in my book that gulls and other shorebirds use some nearby ponds as feeding grounds, which must explain this relatively large movement.

One of the many Mediterranean Gulls flying over

                 Then I noticed this smaller, daintier gull flying in the other direction. As I looked at it, the only feature that really stood out was its trailing white edge to its wings, which indicated that this was a Croicocephalus. I then tilted its head into my direction, and utter joy coursed through every vein in my body. It had a white head and a thin, all-black bill. It was my lifer Slender-billed Gull! This is a very localized species and breeder in Europe, and the Camargue National Reserve is one of their strongholds. Unfortunately, I wasn't ever really able to find out where their breeding grounds were, and they aren't reliable anywhere away from their breeding grounds, so I was ecstatic when I found this bird. This was one of my top-targets for my trip, and I was extremely happy to have found one.

                 This gull was the last notable bird I found at this location, so we decided to drive back to location visited the previous day: the marsh along the side of the road near the "Etang de Scamandre".

                Once we arrived there, we found the usual crowd. There were fewer Whiskered Terns there that day, but there were more Gull-billed Terns than the previous day. It was quite amusing to see the plunge into the shallow ponds in this marsh. What several would do is dive headfirst towards the water, but right before hitting the water, they made a 90º switch and grazed the water with their bill, hoping to snatch a small fish. This technique did indeed prove fruitful as several did end up with their quarry.

Gull-billed Tern
(notice the stubby black bill,
and the black tip to the primaries)

                       Another interesting bird to circle over us was a Eurasian Marsh-Harrier, a fairly common bird found throughout the marshlands of this reserve.

Eurasian Marsh-Harrier
(notice the very broad wings and long tail,
 and the pale face and shoulders)

                        As I scanned this area with my scope, I came across a very dark shorebird. At first I was puzzled, but then it faced me and I knew immediately what it is. Part of the reason why I was so confused by this bird is because usually they aren't present the first week of July in this location, not in high numbers anyways. This bird was a Spotted Redshank in alternate plumage, a gorgeous bird and a lifer. This bird was rather far away, so the only way to get identifiable shots was by digiscoping.

Spotted Redshank
(notice the thin black bill with red at the base,
and the overall dark brown plumage)

                          The only other notable bird of that day was a European Roller that I spotted perched atop a lone tree along the side of the road.

European Roller
(notice the brown back,
and the light blue head and underparts)

                      The following day, we were headed towards the Basque Country where we would spend the rest of our time in Europe. However, rather than driving straight there, I proposed we stop at this scenic location that is known to yield some highly sought-after alpine species: the "Cirque de Gavarnie", an amphitheater-like valley in the Pyrenees, that is known for its fantastic skiing in winter and its scenic hikes during the summer. We began walking up, and I was once again discouraged because of the myriad rowdy hikers that had clearly never seen a birder at hard work on his craft. We then noticed a smaller trail aside from the main trail that led to the forest. Though it didn't provide optimal viewing of the sky, which is what I wanted to pay attention to the most, it was nonetheless a thrilling walk, through a pine forest and over waterfalls, that yielded fantastic views of the typically higher-elevation Coal Tit, one the members of the ever-present European Paridaes.

Coal Tit
(notice the the black bib and head, the white cheek,
and grayish-black back with wing bars)

           Aside from the tit, this forest didn't yield very many species. So when we reached the main trail and could see the sky, I rejoiced. Yellow-billed Choughs became obvious, flying in remarkably large flocks and approaching the other hikers and picnickers at amazing proximity, probably in hopes of snagging a quick snack. Suddenly, I noticed this dark figure slowly soar above me. I put my binoculars up, and my heart skipped a beat. I immediately set up my scope at it and got an even better view at this awe-inspiring bird. It was a Lammergeier, every birder's dream sighting. This bird occurs throughout all the mountainous regions in Eurasia, from western Europe, to the Himalayas. However, in all of Europe and northern Africa, there are only an estimated 500 or so pairs that breed there. So this means that the European population is dispersed and sparsely populated, making it a very difficult species to see (which increases the excitement factor). I knew what this bird was immediately when I saw it, they have a very distinctive shape when soaring. The have very long and angled wings, and a very long, broad, wedge-shaped tail. In the right light, the buffy-beige underbelly was noticed, along with the darker shoulder parts on the underwings. Seeing this majestic bird was truly incredible experience that I know I won't be forgetting any time soon.

Lammergeier
(notice the distinctive shape, the long and angled wings,
and the buffy-beige underparts_

                  This concluded my brief visit to the "Cirque de Gavarnie", and despite the briefness, it was enough to really enjoy and appreciate the raw beauty of this pristine environment. There wasn't another place like this Cirque that I birded during my European vacation, so I was happy to make this little detour before heading off to the Basque Country, where I would spend the rest of my vacation.