June 30th, 2013: Mount Boron

           The previous day, we had just arrived in Villefranche-sur-Mer, a fairly small, but touristic town, on the Mediterranean coast. We had just left from Basel, a veritable city in northern Switzerland, and now we were in a small rustic town by the sea. This was quite a change, and on several levels. The weather was nicer, the view was extremely different, and the habitat and birdlife was completely unlike that of Switzerland. Although much of the area was developed, and most of the native habitat had been destroyed, some tracts of pine and conifer forest, and steep coastal chaparral were still around. It was in this sort of habitat that I was going to bird on my first day in the Côte-d'Azur, on Mount Boron, just outside of Nice. 

       Once I stepped outside of the car, I realized how different this environment was from the surrounding environs. It was an actual preserved stretch of habitat, where there were indicated trails and signs asking people to respect the habitat and remain on the trail. This comforted me, because I was worried that all of the Cote-d'Azur was urbanized and that the only remnants of native habitat were a bush and a conifer tree in someone's backyard. 

       The first birds I noticed were a single Common Chaffinch foraging on the ground and two Eurasian Magpies squabbling in the back of the parking lot. One thing that bummed me out at first was the dearth of bird calls and songs. I could hear several tits of unknown species deep in the habitat but it was silent otherwise. We began walking down the trail, in hopes of hearing some more birdlife. Suddenly, I began hearing this rapid and consistent buzzing. I knew exactly what this bird was: a  Sardinian Warbler. This black-headed and red eye-ringed species is found in this dry and coastal chaparral habitat throughout much of the western Mediterranean coast. I quickly learned that this resident species was abundant when in the right habitat. But before I began hearing more of these birds, I was focused on this individual, hoping it would cooperate and show itself. Fortunately for me, it did and I even managed to put the scope on it, which gave me a fantastic view of the species. However, I learned that this was going to be my best view of this species during my trip.

            The bird then flew off and we moved on. As we turned around, I got a quick view of a Green Woodpecker fly from a tree. This is a species that I first saw when I was in the Black Forest in Germany. A splendid species of woodpecker, my lifer was an adult male, so I got to see the red on its nape and the crisp granny-smith green on the rest of its body. The bird that we flushed was a juvenile because it lacked the red nape and I noticed a lot of speckling on its face. A few Firecrests began peeping at each other, and a Eurasian Blue Tit joined the quarrel. 

            We continued down the trail and we came across a large mixed flock, mostly composed of tits but there were a few chaffinches mixed in. The tits were all either Great or Eurasian Blue. But after more scrutinization, I discovered there was a third tit species, a species that had evaded me thus far. Right above me were two Crested Tits, a pert species that I really wanted to see. Named after its gray crest with black stripes, I was impressed at how egregious and salient they were. I knew they would be visible, but not to that extent. 

Crested Tit
(notice the black throat and the obvious crest)

                                                                                 

Great Tit
(notice the black head and white cheek,
the yellow underparts,
and the black stripe down the middle)

Eurasian Blue Tit
(notice the white face, yellowish underparts,
and the blue on the back of the head)

                Once the mixed flock passed, we continued down the trail. We noticed how the bird activity had really slowed down, with the only bird we were hearing was a Eurasian Blackbird. I then began noticing these medium-sized yellow butterflies. They were really pretty, so I was then determined to get a shot of one of them. Fortunately for me, two of them landed right beside me, and allowed me to get remarkably close to them. Once I got home, I looked up European butterflies and discovered that they were called Cleopatras.

Cleopatras

               Then, this smaller, more cryptically colored butterfly landed nearby. This individual wasn't quite as cooperative, but I did manage to snap a quick shot of it. This species is called a Wall Brown.

Wall Brown

             This concludes my day of birding, as well as my weekend of birding. There weren't any good places to go birding in this area, so we spent the weekend with our family that we don't see all that often. The next time I was going to be birding, I will be in the renowned Camargue National Reserve.

June 28th, 2013: Mount Pilatus and Lake of Lucerne

            Today was easily one of the best days of the entire trip. My aunt was going to bring us to the Swiss Alps, to Mount Pilatus, a well-known tourist magnet. When I found out that this location attracted myriad tourists, my excitement diminished because that usually means that bird activity dwindles. But I brought my binoculars in case, along with my camera, and once again that was very smart of me because we were in for an amazing day of birding. Our original plan was to take the lift all the way to the top of the mountain, but because of the thick overcast, we decided to get off at the penultimate stop, where the fog and clouds were above us and not around us. As we ascended, we were able to get a majestic view of the entire mountain and the surrounding mountains as well. Some were snow-capped, but the majority were covered in rocks and bare ground.

            After a ten-fifteen minute ascent, we arrived at our stop. The second we stepped out of the lift, the chilling air blew onto our skin, adorning it with many goosebumps. It was rather cold, but not as cold as I had expected, which was good because there's nothing worse than holding up your binoculars and shivering from the intense chill. We stepped out of the building and there were many people sitting and eating, talking loudly, which once again discouraged me. But as we began walking, I found a bird that turned the entire day around: my lifer Ring Ouzel! This species occurs in the mountainous regions of Europe, in the Pyrenees and the Alps for example, and is related to the Eurasian Blackbird. I was under the impression that this species was difficult to find, but apparently not seeing how easily I found this bird. It flew onto the lawn and began foraging, while oblivious hikers walked by unaware of the amazing bird they were passing by. This bird was an excellent way to begin our day.

Ring Ouzel
(notice the white chest band, the black body,
and the yellow bill)

          We followed a trail into the forest where I heard a Common Chiffchaff and some unidentified tit species. I was also able to flush my lifer Song Thrush! This thrush is marked with arrowhead-shaped spots on its breast and stomach, with an overall buffy wash. It began singing, but from inside the thickets of a tree which made it impossible to see again. It turned out the trail was a loop and we found ourselves where we started. We started walking down another trail when a very cooperative Common Chaffinch began foraging at the end of a branch, offering exceptional views and photo-ops. 

Common Chaffinch
(notice the blue-gray cowl, the pinkish face,
and the distinctive pattern on the wings)

          I suddenly heard this pretty singing from a bird atop of a tree. This by itself already gave me an idea of what it may have been. Then, it began flying fairly high, and then just floated down, all while singing. This behavior is called "skylarking". Once it landed, I was able to confirm my identification: Tree Pipit. 

  

Tree Pipit
(notice the thick streaks on chest, that thin out
as they reach its flanks)

        This bird may not be particularly spectacular-looking, but it has a phenomenal voice and was a fun lifer to get. But not only was this the most fun lifer because of its voice, but because it was my 500th lifer! This is a fairly exciting milestone for any birder, and it really made this day so much better than it already was!

         I then turned around and saw this raptor soaring high in the sky. This was a Red Kite, a beautiful bird of prey. Suddenly, it was joined by a second bird. I was looking at two Red Kites soaring in unison with undeniable elegance. 

Red Kite
(notice the reddish underbelly, the white underwings,
and its noticeably gray head)

        Unfortunately, these birds had to leave, so we continued. Two European Goldfinches flew by quickly and a family of White Wagtails perched onto a barbed wire fence. I started hearing some interesting sounds coming from up the hill, so naturally I followed it. One call ended up being my lifer Water Pipit, then there was my lifer Mistle Thrush and my lifer Eurasian Linnet, a pretty little finch species.

Eurasian Linnet
(notice the gray face, and the rosy breast and front)

         When I was younger, my grandmother used to always say I had a "tête de linotte", which roughly translates to saying I had the brain of a linnet. She always said this when I would forget something, and the reason for this is because there is a myth that linnets don't have a good memory, and this causes them to forget where their nest is, so they are forced to build another nest. Allow me to debunk this myth. Linnets don't necessarily have a bad memory. They easily remember where their nests are. As a matter of fact, they are migratory in parts of the their range, notably in the northern part, and they'll migrate hundreds of miles each year from the south to the exact same bush or thicket to build or even renovate their old nest. The reason for why they build several nests is to court a female. She needs to find the right nest. So the more nests the males offer, the more likely they are to court the female. This behavior has nothing to do with their memory, but with their hormones. 

          Anyways, there were two linnets that soon after flew off. I neared the treeline, where the open space met the forest, where there seemed to be much bird activity. I found more Mistle Thrushes, Tree Pipits and a very exciting lifer: Citril Finch. This species is localized in Europe and hard to find. So I was happy to flush three individuals that landed briefly on a bush, allowing sufficient time to be studied. I entered the forest a saw my lifer Firecrest, a small and colorful bird related to kinglets. My dad called me saying we had to leave, so we went back to our starting point and sat down for lunch. 

           As we ate, an Yellow-billed (or Alpine) Chough flew onto the roof of the lodge. It seemed remarkably tame and offered superb views. This species of corvid is found throughout various mountainous regions in Europe and Asia. It's a dashing bird when well seen, thanks to its banana-yellow decurved bill, reddish legs and stark black body.

Yellow-billed Chough
(notice the yellow bill, the black body,
and the reddish legs)

          Rather than taking the lift down to the bottom, we decided to hike down. This hike yielded many more birds and lifers. I got to see my first Common Raven of the trip, a remarkably difficult species to see in Switzerland.

Common Raven
(notice the massive body and bill)

        I came across a family of Ring Ouzels, which were just as cooperative as the last bird. Unfortunately, these ones preferred the thick foliage and didn't come out to let me take a picture. Shortly after, I came across two male Eurasian Bullfinches, another lifer! 

Eurasian Bullfinch
(notice the black cap, the pink underparts,
and the gray back)

         There was a whole flock of Firecrests on the other side of a small meadow which were more visible than the last bird. But because of their propensity for never staying still, I only managed to get mediocre shots.

Firecrest
(notice the greenish back, the white supercilium,
and the yellow on the nape)

         A Great Spotted Woodpecker made an appearance, which then led to my lifer Eurasian Nutcracker which was incredible! I thought I had seen one when I was on Mt. Fuji in Japan, but I had terrible binoculars and it was a quick flyby, so I wasn't positive. This bird sat perched atop a tree, making its raspy calls, similar to our Clark's Nutcrackers.

Eurasian Nutcracker
(notice the spots on the brown body,
the white undertail coverts and the large bill)

              As we continued our descent, I came across a family of Goldcrests, two adults with three peeping chicks, awaiting their lunch. The parents cavorted from branch to branch in search of little invertebrates to aliment their young. Once again, their hyper-activity prevented me from taking any decent shots.

Goldcrest
(notice the green body and the namesake gold crest)

              We finally reached the bottom of the mountain. After the long, but entertaining hike, we were rather tired. However, before heading back to the apartment in Basel, my aunt really wanted to bring us to the town of Lucerne, only about 10 minutes from Mount Pilatus. She emphasized on the beauty of town, and we figured it was worth checking out. The town was built around the Lake of Lucerne, so I thought that perhaps I might see some interesting birds. I brought my binoculars just in case. We later arrived, and we were blown away by the beauty. It was a picture-perfect, postcard view. The buildings had this certain rustic feel to them, which added to magnificence of the town. 

Buildings in Lucerne

            However, my eyes quickly diverted from the buildings and the splendid scenery to this orange figure on the water that caught my eye. I grabbed the camera and quickly ran to one of the docks that jutted into the water. 5 feet in front of me was my lifer Red-crested Pochard, a breathtakingly beautiful species of duck. No other duck species looks quite like this one, with its red bill, orange head, black chest and brown mantle. 

Male Red-crested Pochard
(notice the red bill, orange head,
and the black breast)

             What surprised me the most though was the high number of this species present at the lake and their proximity to the people. They outnumbered the Mallards 5 to 1, and paddled by the docks where people would chat and eat, as if they didn't even notice those people.

             Another great bird that I saw shortly after was my lifer Great-crested Grebe, a species found throughout Eurasia, Africa, all the way down to Oceania. There weren't quite as many grebes as there were pochards, and unlike those pochards, they kept their distance, keeping mostly to the middle of the lake. But one individual was brave enough to part from the others a swam under the bridge we were on, which offered good photo ops.

Great-crested Grebe
(notice the sharp tufts,
and the black feathers coming from the back of the head)

               As we walked, I found another bird that wouldn't make any other person (non-birder that is) look twice. It was a Yellow-legged Gull, an abundant species of gull found throughout Europe. This bird was exciting to see for the first time, but I learned quickly how blasé I would become about this species. Throughout the rest of my travels, this species would be abundant. But in the moment, I was excited to get my third lifer at the Lake of Lucerne.

Yellow-legged Gull
(notice the yellow legs, the white at the tip
of the primaries, and the light gray mantle)

                 Gulls are notorious for being difficult to identify. But what renders them most confusing is the wide variety of species and plumages according to age. Fortunately for me, this is the only species of 4-year gull during the summer in Switzerland. So this made identification a piece of cake. All the 1st and 2nd year birds were Yellow-legged Gulls, so I didn't break my neck trying to scrutinize the slight variations in plumage between the various species. 

1st year Yellow-legged Gull
(notice the distinctive pattern on the back,
and the slight white at the tip of the dark primaries)

              Just as we were about to leave, I noticed something flying quickly above us. I then saw many more of these similar birds flying above us. I had trouble trying to put my bins on these birds because of how swiftly they flew, but once I did, my jaw dropped. I was looking at a dozen or so Alpine Swifts flying in and out of their roost, which was the main tower of the Lake of Lucerne. This is a species that I heard was "hit or miss" in Europe. But I suppose when you're birding right by their roost, your odds for hitting are increased ten fold. This is a larger species of swift, with broader wings, a brown back, and a white throat and belly. Unfortunately, these birds were flying too quickly to snap a shot of. However, I did see another individual later in my travels, right outside the city of Nice in France, which I did manage to get a shot of.

Alpine Swift
(notice the broad wings,
and the white throat and belly)

              This concluded my day of birding at Mount Pilatus and Lake of Lucerne, and also my birding in Switzerland. The next day we were off to the Cote d'Azur in southern France where we would spend a few days with the same family we were with in Basel. This day was certainly one of the greatest during my entire month-long trip in Europe. From birding the majestic and awe-inspiring Swiss Alps, to the quaint town of Lucerne, I was glad my aunt brought us out to these locations.

June 25th, 2013: Petite Camargue Alsacienne

          My first day of legitimate birding in Europe took place in France, and not Switzerland, which is surprising because I was staying in Switzerland. Regardless, I was excited and really pumped. Plus, the preserve where my wonderful aunt (who was so great during my stay in Switzerland, driving me to the various locations) was bringing us seemed fantastic from what I read. It was called la "Petite Camargue Alsacienne", which translates to the "Little Alsacian Camargue". The Camargue is a region in Southern France, renowned for its extensive marshlands and wetlands. So if this was going to be a smaller version of it, I knew it wouldn't disappoint.

         The second we stepped out of the car, bird songs surrounded us! It was beautiful to listen to, but it was also bittersweet. Although they songs were music to my ears, I hadn't the slightest clue what the birds singing were! The way my brain works is that I can only retain bird songs and calls with experience in the field. Some people can just listen to recordings and memorize them, but that doesn't work for me unfortunately. But this was also a motivation to push myself even further to cajole them out of their hideouts. I learned later that this proved to be a daunting task. Anyways, we stepped out and birds were singing from everywhere. However, this white shape caught my eye, and it turned out I found a family of Mute Swans. I had seen this bird for the first time during my layover in Amsterdam, but it was just one ratty individual on a sloppy dock, so it wasn't quite the way I had imagined my lifer Mute Swan. But now, I was looking at two debonair adults with their two wary chicks. Though this species has been released throughout much of the United States, where there are now self-sustaining feral populations, this species naturally occurs in Europe and Asia, so this was a wild family. This also meant that we had to keep our distance, because despite their seemingly harmless demeanor, these birds can be very aggressive, especially during the breeding season when their chicks have hatched.

Mute Swan family
(notice the orange bill and the black knob)

         After admiring this photogenic family, we made our way down the trail. we noticed some of the more common birds immediately such as Eurasian Blackbirds, Great Tits and a family of Blackcaps. It was easy to tell that this way a family of them because the juvenile Blackcaps are actually "browncaps". Where the adults have their black head, the juveniles have brown. There were two of these young birds along with an older bird, which offered a wonderful opportunity to compare the different ages. 

Juvenile Blackcap
(notice the brown cap, and gray body)

         Suddenly, I heard this almost jay-like rattling coming behind me. I turned around and saw two yellow and black birds chasing each other. This tell-tale colors allowed me to immediately identify these birds as Eurasian Golden Oriole, my first lifer of the day! Although these golden and ebony birds are named orioles, they aren't related to our orioles in North America, of the family Icteridae. They belong to the family aptly named Oriolidae, consisting in colorful passerines found throughout the Old World. Unfortunately, because the one bird was so determined to chase the other bird out of its territory, I wasn't able to snap a shot of this wonderful sight. 

          Once the commotion quieted down, we continued walking all while listening to the various tit species and my recently-retained Eurasian Blackbird song. My next lifer came in the form of a Tufted Duck, a overdue bird for me. They occur annually in the Bay Area, and sometimes in numbers, and it's surprising I hadn't seen before. There was a male, proudly adorned with its tuft, and its partner, a more muted version of the male, with a less prominent tuft. 

Female Tufted Duck
(notice the brownish flanks,
and the less prominent tuft) 

Male Tufted Duck
(notice the white flanks, the black back,
and the prominent tuft)

          My next lifer was a Eurasian Moorhen, a species once lumped with America's Common Gallunile. But studies and extensive research proved that there were sufficient genealogical differences between the former subspecies for them to be split. We found a surprisingly high number of these birds, including many younger ones.

Eurasian Moorhen
(notice the red-and-yellow bill,
the brown back, and the white stripe above flanks)

           As I admired these red-faced rails, I noticed the nearby reeds fidgeting. I looked and found my fourth lifer of the day: Eurasian Reed-Warbler. This very drab and cryptically plumaged bird resides principally in thick reed beds near water, where they feed on insects and other invertebrates, which is exactly what this active little bird was doing. Cavorting in the reeds, it didn't cooperate in the least, so getting shots was difficult. This shot is merely for identification, and certainly not for aesthetic purposes. 

Eurasian Reed-Warbler
(notice elongated shape and entirely brown body)

           After the reed-warbler, the birding began to slow down. The only highlights were a Eurasian Tree Sparrow, not a lifer because they were abundant in Japan, when I visited, and a Eurasian Jay that popped up. We walked back on the other side of the canal, because there were two parallel trails that went along that canal). We saw some of the same birds, but some new ones as well, like Eurasian Magpie and my lifer Common Chiffchaff of the notorious Pylloscopus genus! Fortunately it called, and it matched the recording I had on my phone. It was rather high up in the tree which didn't offer optimal views of the key field marks: dark legs, subtle supercilium, short primary projection and a dark cheek. But after reviewing the photos, I was just able to see these field marks. 

Common Chiffchaff
(notice the dark legs, slight supercilium,
and the short primary projection)

           I also got to see my lifer European Greenfinch along with a European Goldfinch, not a lifer, but a handsome little bird that was quite pleasant to see.

Male European Goldfinch
(notice the red face and yellowish breast markings)

          Once we arrived at the parking lot, the bird activity resumed. Many were calling from all over. I began more easily recognizing the calls of Eurasian Blackbirds, Blackcaps and even Great Spotted Woodpecker. (I forgot to mention that lifer)

Great Spotted Woodpecker
(notice the black back, the red crown,
the white cheek and the black malar stripe)

          Then, this drab-colored bird flew onto a branch jutting from a tree. This bird ended up being a Spotted Flycatcher! Despite its name, it isn't related our Tyrant-Flycatchers of the family Tyrannidae. It is an Old World Flycatcher related to redstarts and bluetails, of the family Muscicapidae. This was a fun lifer to get because it reminded me of some American birds that behaved the same way such as Black Phoebes or Ash-throated Flycatchers. 

         The flycatcher flew and I was about to leave this spot, when this minuscule little bird flew onto the same branch where the flycatcher was. As I was putting my binoculars up, the bird jumped away, and I ended up spending several minutes chasing it. But this chase was well worth it because this bird ended up being my lifer Marsh Tit! A plain little bird, it frequents a variety of different habitats, and feeds on a variety of insects and seeds, making it omnivorous like most tits and chickadees. Unfortunately, I spent a so much time of scrutinizing it, that it left before I take a shot of it. 

          Before we left, we found this wonderful observation platform that gave view over the extensive shrub habitats with several ponds with reeds scattered here and there. This platform yielded Red-backed Shrike, Eurasian Golden-Oriole, a Ring-necked Pheasant and even my lifer Common Buzzard!

Ring-necked Pheasant 

This habitat yielded birds such as Ring-necked Pheasants, Eurasian Golden Orioles,
Red-backed Shrikes and  Common Buzzards

          This concludes my first day of true birding in Europe. I was able to get 10 lifers, and great views of most of them, so I certainly was a happy camper! After this great day of birding, it only brought my hopes up for the rest of the trip. 

June 24th, 2013: Amsterdam Birding

          Today marks the first day of my month-long excursion to Europe with my dad. I will first be spending a week in Basel, Switzerland, where my aunt and uncle have an apartment. Then we will spend approximately a week and a half in Southern France, more specifically in Nice, the Provence Region and the renowned Camargue National Reserve. Finally, we will spend our last week in the Basque Country, up in the Pyrenees, where much of my family resides. A month is a long time to be out of the country, which also means a long time to go birding in a region that I’ve never birded before. Although I’ve visited France many times in the past, I’ve never visited as an active birder, which meant that I was going to encounter many new and unfamiliar species. But that just made this adventure that much more enticing.

         However, before I may begin my journey in Switzerland, I was in for a 7 hour layover in Amsterdam. Rather than waiting, bored out of our silly French minds, we decided to take the tram to the city of Amsterdam and play tourist. It also offered an opportunity to ease my way into European birding and familiarize myself with some of the common species. As we took the train, it made several stops before we stepped off, and while it stopped, I held my binoculars up and scanned the vicinity. The first species I was able to successfully identify was in fact a lifer: the Eurasian Jackdaw, a species of small corvid.  These squat and relatively tiny birds were posted all along the roofs of buildings, much like would American Crows back in the states. It was a wonderful way to begin my birding in Europe.

Once we arrived in Central Amsterdam, we walked out of the train station and we were surrounded by the hustling and bustling of this busy city. This disappointed me and discouraged me from birding. But I had left my backpack in a baggage locker at the airport, so I had nowhere to put my binoculars away, so I decided to hold onto them. This was a fantastic decision because I learned that in spite of the great number of boisterous people, the birds were nevertheless active and out! I soon noticed some Herring Gulls and Black-headed Gulls swirling around over the myriad canals that flow through this city, reminiscent of Venice, Italy. Herring Gulls are regular winter visitors in the Bay Area, but Black-headed Gulls only rarely occur in North America, and they always show up on the East Coast. So this species was new for me, but not a lifer, since I remember seeing it three years ago in Paris, France. This bird’s scientific name is Croicocephalus Ridibundi, which roughly translates to Color-Headed Laugher. Croico means color and cephalus means head in Greek. Ridibundi comes from the Greek word meaning to laugh. This scientific name was extremely well-chosen because these birds have obvious brown-black heads, hence the colored-head, and when they called, it did in fact sound like someone laughing hysterically. In French, their common name is Mouette Rieuse, which also translates to Laughing Gull (not to be confused with North America’s LaughingGull, Larus Atricilla).

Black-headed Gull
(notice the brownish head, the light gray mantle,
and the reddish bill)

            Next to the bickering flock of gulls were domestic type Rock Pigeons, but amongst them was a typical sight in Europe, a CommonWood Pigeon. These large and stocky pigeons are a much more elegant and appreciated species than the regular pigeons that people call “Rats with Wings”, which made this bird an exciting find for me! However, this species lost its splendor once I began seeing it everyday, wherever I went. But they remained beautiful nonetheless.

Common Wood Pigeon
(notice the white and teal patch on neck,
the purplish breast, and the white knob
on bill)

          More species that I noticed were Eurasian Blackbirds, related to thrushes of the family Turdidae and not our blackbirds of the family Icteridae, Eurasian Blue-Tits, and Common Swifts that swished and swooshed around swiftly, gobbling up the gnats and other insects that they found. We walked down one of the canals where families of Mallards socialized, Eurasian Coots relaxed on the thick ropes that prevented the boats from drifting downstream, and a single Mute Swan preened its long, ivory-white feathers.

Eurasian Coot
(notice the entirely white front)

Female Eurasian Blackbird
(notice the brownish body and the yellow bill)

Mute Swan
(notice the orange bill and the black knob)

          We then left the rather large streets bordering the canals, and headed down the narrower streets in between the buildings. These rustic and old-style buildings were pleasant to walk down, and really show how Europe is an ancient continent full of history. During my time in Europe, I hope to not only appreciate its wildlife but also its history by noticing the architecture and its culture. But for now, I was too eager to bird, so those factors became secondary. As we walked down these streets, there were birds such as Eurasian Magpies, once lumped with North America’s Black-billed Magpie, Eurasian Jays, a Short-toed Treecreeper, similar to our Brown Creeper, and the ubiquitous House Sparrows, a common sight both in North America and Europe.  

        This basically concludes our brief stint in Amsterdam. We would’ve stayed longer, but we didn’t want to arrive too late at the airport and miss our flight, which would have ruined our entire vacation. One final thing that I noticed was that throughout much of the city, on any glass surface, were stickers of raptor silhouettes, notably of falcons. This practice prevents songbirds from unknowingly flying into the glass and maiming themselves. I’ve seen this in the states before, but not all that often, but as I traveled throughout Europe, these stickers appeared to be more and more frequent. It’s nice to know that the people care about their local avifauna and will help protecting it.

June 19th, 2013: Kern River Preserve

            Southern California is a long way from the San Francisco Bay Area, so when one has a sister attending a summer camp in Bakersfield, their brother is in for a long and lulling drive. But I'm a birder, so I view things optimistically and think of where I could go birding while down there. After having done research, I came across this wonderful park called Kern River Preserve, an Audubon-created tract of riparian woodland along the Kern River. This lush preserve is home to myriad species, but there are 3 species in particular that attract throngs of birders from all over. The first is the Yellow-billed Cuckoo, a once regularly found species in California that is now an extremely localized breeder in this state. The second is the extima subspecies of the Willow Flycatcher, a threatened subspecies found solely in the southwest of the United States. The third species is the vibrantly vermilion Summer Tanager, not a rare bird but a veritable jewel of the preserve. So after an hour drive from our hotel in Bakersfield, we finally arrived and began our excursion at Kern River Preserve. 

            As we drove up the small and bumpy road to reach the parking lot, we turned down the music and rolled down the window to hear if anything was singing. The air was swirling with a chorus of sonorous songs. Bullock's Orioles, Yellow Warblers, Black-headed Grosbeaks and House Finches all participated in this natural orchestra. Once we parked, I was eager to bird this renowned preserve and search for my three target birds. Blazoned feeders, that were hung from the trees, were adorned with Lesser Goldfinches and House Finches. As I walked around, I noticed that the weather wasn't as extreme as I had expected it. Coming from Northern California, where a nice day translates to 60º and a sky littered with gray clouds, I always had this image of Southern California having sunny skies and consisting in sweltering heat that had everybody sweating like hogs (yes, I believed that everybody in Socal spent everyday sweating like pigs). But this weather, which was a mild 85º with a slight breeze, really made this experience that much more enjoyable. 

              Anyways, we began walking down the Nature Trail, as it was called, staying vigilant and keeping my eyes out for flying tomatoes (the Summer Tanagers). Western Wood-Pewees called from the tops of the trees and House Wrens buzzed at everybody that crossed their path. We then came across a hummingbird feeder station that was jumping with activity. The enticing sound of their humming and buzzing forced me to step off the trail and sit down on a small bench to scrutinize each hummer. The majority were Anna's Hummingbirds, the most expected species here, but not the only one that can be found. After perusing each female, I noticed two different groups. There were the birds that were larger, had straighter bills and had a dirtier throat. These were female Anna's. The other group was characterized by their smaller size and sleeker figure, their slightly decurved bill and clean white throat. These were Black-chinned Hummingbirds, a species I have only seen once before in California, while birding in Merced County. To confirm my identification, a lovely male flew onto one of the feeders and began recuperating its energy.

Male Black-chinned Hummingbird
(notice the black gorget restricted to the throat,
and white feathers around neck)

               This was another one of my target species, so I was delighted to come across this bird. Then, a small female type hummingbird caught my eye. After having been to Camp Chiricahua in Arizona and having birded with exceptional birders like Michael O'Brien, Louise Zemaitis and Jennie Duberstein, I learned the different field marks needed to identify female hummingbirds of the southwest. This bird was overall squat and stout in size, not elongated or sleek at all. This was one of the field marks. The second field mark I noticed was the remarkable primary projection that passed the tail. Remembering what Michael had told me last year, I was able to deduce that this bird was a female Costa's Hummingbird, another target of mine. Not only was excited about seeing this bird, but I was  also excited I was able to identify it myself. Female hummingbirds are notoriously difficult to identify, and even top-knotch birders will have trouble with them. Fortunately, this bird was perched on a branch and didn't move very much, which offered a wonderful opportunity to study this species. Unfortunately, a male didn't bestow us with its presence, which is really what I wanted to see. But one can only have so much luck. 

               After spending a good fifteen minutes studying the feeders, we resumed our amble. The trail then brought us to an open space with sage and coyote brush (or at least what appeared to be those shrubs, I need to improve my knowledge on botany). Ash-throated Flycatchers called, Bullock's Orioles squabbled above us, and Nuttall's Woodpeckers whinnied when flying from one tree to another. One thing that was really surprising about this preserve was the abundance of woodpecker species. Whenever I go out birding, the usual amount woodpeckers I see is 4-5 individuals of only 2-3 different species. Here, I saw 4 different species with at least 20 birds in total, from Nuttall's Woodpeckers, to Hairy and Downy Woodpeckers, to a "red-shafted" Northern Flicker that I flushed. There certainly was no dearth of woodpeckers here. I just wished this had been the case with the Summer Tanager. It had been 45 minutes and I still had not seen one. Various birders on the Internet were saying how easy they were to see here, and if you wanted to see one in California, Kern river Preserve is the place to go. It was quite disappointing. But I'm a positive and optimistic person, so I didn't let the lack of tanagers ruin my morning. 

                Suddenly, a small yellow passerine flew from one tree to another. This bird caught my eye, probably because of the vibrant colors, and I put my binoculars up to find my first-of-year Yellow Warbler. This is a species that was once an abundant breeder in California, and notably in the Kern River Valley, but due to human development, destruction of habitat and pollution, their environment was soiled, which was ensued by a drop in their population. Fortunately, habitat restoration and the creation of protected areas, such as Kern River Preserve, aided in this species's comeback. So this little lemon-yellow warbler was proof that the restoration was efficient and did help improve their status. 

Male Yellow Warbler
(notice the yellow body,  the reddish streaks on its chest,
and its dark and round eyes)

               As we continued down the trail, we found ourselves on the edge of the forest, where the forest and the open space meet. So we were able to enjoy the woodland birds, all while keeping an eye out for species more commonly found in open areas. Then, I was hearing this familiar call coming from the open space, but I wasn't quite able to put my finger on it. Suddenly, this black bird flew up, flashing white when it opened its wings. This bird is one my all-time favorites that I've seen when I was in Arizona and when I visited Joshua Tree National Park: the elegant Phainopepla. I stepped off the trail a bit to see if I could get a better view, which is when I found 2 more Phainopeplas sitting on a shrub, a female and young bird. This was a very special find because I hadn't seen this species since last year in Arizona, and I hadn't seen the species in over two years in California. I was elated when I found these birds. 

Back shot of the young Phainopepla
(notice the grayish body, the noticeable crest,
and the white wing panels)

           The trail brought us back to the parking lot with all the feeders. We still had a little time on our hands, and there was remarkable bird activity popping, so we decided to hang there for a little while. Western Bluebirds, a dozen of them, foraged on the ground, picking up small insects they could find. Many of them were fledglings that were still learning which foods were consumable and which weren't, so there were a few looking at the ground in bewilderment. Then I noticed this rather long and slim brown bird on the ground foraging away from the group of bluebirds. This bird ended up being a Lark Sparrow, another target of mine. This is a species I don't get to see a whole lot, so it was a welcomed find that really brightened this already nice day of birding.

Lark Sparrow
(notice the harlequin markings on the face)

             It was now time for us to leave, and as I walked back to the car, I made the sad realization that I missed every single one of my target birds. I wasn't expecting to see the Yellow-billed Cuckoo, due to the scarcity and reclusiveness of the species. I thought that the Willow Flycatcher was possible, but I wouldn't have been surprised to have missed it. But the Summer Tanager is what shocked me the most. I thought that bird would've been a given! But like I said, I'm a positive person, and rather than focusing on what I missed, I took time to appreciate the birds I was lucky enough to see, from the Black-chinned and Costa's Hummingbirds, the family of Phainopeplas, the brilliant Yellow Warbler and the intricately-plumaged Lark Sparrow. As I was entering the car, a Black-headed Grosbeak flew onto a shrub nearby, making its eek call that sounds like somebody rubbing their new sneakers on a gym floor, and a male Lawrence's Goldfinch modestly flew into view. It was a nice way to end the morning. I was now in for a 5 hour drive all the way back to Pacifica, where I would trade the beautiful weather of Socal for the fog-ridden sky of Norcal.