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