Solo Birding, or An Easy-to-Swallow Outing to Ankeny NWR

Last weekend Maureen had to travel to San Diego for a conference, leaving me to figure what to do with myself for a few days. Saturday, I thought I'd venture out and take some macro shots, hoping the weather would cooperate. But at every point during the day, it threatened to rain. I'd been keeping myself cooped up for fear the storm clouds would break open, but at a certain point I just got tired of waiting, so late in the day I headed down to Ankeny NWR to take my chances.

A sinister-looking Brewer's Blackbird greeted me in the parking lot

Northern Flicker

Ankeny's mostly off-limits between October and March to give "Dusky" Canada Geese and other waterfowl undisturbed wintering habitat. With spotting scope you can scan a good portion of the area from the parking lots, but Pintail Marsh also has a 1.8 mile loop trail and it's been ages since we've been able to walk it. A couple of times since it's opened back up, we've taken short trips after work and checked in some of the willows along the trailhead without getting very far. I hadn't expected to get far this time either, but the birds kept drawing me in.

Red-winged Blackbird

Savannah Sparrow

By far the most active were the Yellow-rumped Warblers. Both the "Myrtle" and "Audubon's" Yellow-rumps are sporting their fancy breeding costumes and flycatching left and right. "Myrtle" seem like they're outnumbering their brighter, fancier-looking brothers and sisters right now, which is still surprising to an easterner like me who thought we were swapping Myrtles for Audubon's when we moved out here. Maureen's been waiting and hoping for a handsome male Audubon's to show off for her, but so far hasn't found any cooperative volunteers. But the minute she leaves town, this happens… and with her own camera no less.

"Audubon's" Yellow-rumped Warbler

"Myrtle" Yellow-rumped Warbler

A gentle warbling emerged from the same willows where the Yellow-rumps were frolicking. Even if it was more shy than the warblers, it was great to see my first Warbling Vireo of the year. Other FOYs included Yellow and Wilson's Warblers, and Yellow-headed Blackbirds. At around this same point in the trail as the vireo I noticed the damselflies were swarming a certain kind of grassy seed heads. One of them let me get close enough to snap a photo with my macro.

Warbling Vireo

Bushtit

Least Sandpiper

The other major source of activity was the swallows. From the parking lot, you can see them swirling around and around over a cluster of snags, occasionally landing on them in tight groups. Now that I was able to get farther along the trail, I came across a nesting box complex, and the Tree Swallows were getting to work.

It was mostly Tree Swallows I should say, but there was at least one Violet-green getting ready to nest, and, as you can see, we were fast friends. Cliff and Barn Swallows are also making their way to Ankeny, although the Cliffs are likely to nest in other parts of the refuge, where there are structures for them to build on.

Violet-green Swallow

While the swallows and other songbirds are preparing their nests and pairing off, the Canada Geese are already busy raising their first brood. I'm pretty sure these were the first baby birds either of us have seen so far this year. Lets home some of these little guys survive the inevitable onslaught of the eagles, harriers, red-tails, and other raptors that use the marsh as their hunting grounds. Good luck, little ones.

Canada Goose family

Red-tailed Hawk

Celebrating Our Oregoniversary

As hard as it is to believe, today marks the 1-year anniversary of our arrival in Oregon — our Oregoniversary, if you will. After a wearying, but unforgettable 5-day adventure that took us literally from coast to coast, we first set foot together in our new home state on April 24, 2014. It was a decisive moment, but an uncertain one. We had just moved 3,000 miles to a region that we had never even visited, and knew relatively little about. The natural history, the geography, and the culture were all unknowns for us. It was a lot to take in all at once; it was both fraught and exciting. 

But when it comes down to it, there's only one thing to do when faced with uncharted territory: start exploring at once. So that's what we did. Though, to be honest, it wasn't completely novel. I like to tell people that we moved here with a very accurate stereotype of Oregon, and to a large extent that's true. Exactly as expected, there's a young, active vibe up around Portland; people appreciate good food, and care about how it's produced; there's a killer music scene; and the outdoors are celebrated, engaged with, and utilized like no other place we've lived.

Where the stereotype falls apart is in how vast and how varied Oregon is. No matter what direction we travel, whatever the distance, we're always bound to find something worthwhile, something unexpected. As you can see from the map below, we've been off to a quick start in trying to take in as much as we can. Not once during these 365 days have we looked back regrettingly on our decision to move here — we haven't had time to! We've been too busy birding, hiking, driving, and otherwise exploring not to be thankful for our fateful, impulsive move. In homage to our adopted home, here's a look back at some of our adventures from the past year in Oregon.

Every place in Oregon that we've submitted an eBird checklist from

The first time I remember having our minds truly blown was on our first visit to the coast in Newport. Yaquina Head Outstanding Natural Area is home to a massive breeding colony of Common Murre, which, along with the nesting Pigeon Guillemots, were the first alcids we'd ever seen. Add to that Brandt's and Pelagic Cormorants, Black Oystercatchers, Harlequin Ducks, and a Wandering Tattler, and we were hooked. Hardly a month passes that we don't take a trip down this way. Whether for the birds, the shellfishing, or the tidepooling the coast is always extraordinary.

John Day National Monument is one of those places that you can hardly expect to accommodate in your stereotype of Oregon. For one thing, it's out in the desert — not the first thing people think of when they think Oregon. Secondly, the Painted Hills are a baffling and beautiful mix of red, green, and gold unlike anything else. Not surprisingly, there's great birding out that way of which we've only scratched the surface.

Last fall we attended our first hawk watch at Bonney Butte. Besides Golden Eagles galore and a host of other raptors, including Merlins, Peregrin Falcons, and Cooper's Hawks, Maureen and I each had the opportunity to release Sharp-shinned Hawks from the banding station set up there. Bonney Butte may not get the numbers that some other hawk watch sites do, but it makes up for it in variety: 7 raptor species throughout the day. And with the views of nearby Mt. Hood in the background, it made for some the most spectacular birding we've ever had sitting down.

The Willamette Valley is the heart of Oregon. It's where most people live and encompasses Salem, Portland, and Eugene. To think that just down the street from us are Acorn Woodpeckers, Band-tailed Pigeons, Varied Thrushes, and Wrentits! We're fortunate to have such great birds around at every time of year, and especially to have a great refuge system to support them in. Just a few minutes away, Ankey NWR hosts some of everything, from birds, to butterflies, to frogs, to dragonflies. A little bit farther, and Finley NWR is always good for day trip to hear Pacific Wrens babbling, or possibly run across a rowdy band of Gray Jays.

Klamath Falls was our first impression of Oregon, which we experienced from the car on our drive up one year ago today. When we returned there this February to attend the Winter Wings Festival we got explore the area in much more fully. Prairie Falcons, Oak Titmouse, and Lewis's Woodpeckers were among the highlights from that memorable trip, not to mention great looks at birds like this Evening Grosbeak. As if we needed further incentive to keep coming back to visit the Klamath Basin, it's also apparently one of the best places to catch Western and Clark's Grebes performing their courtship displays in April and May. 

Although I just recounted it in our most recent post, I'd be remiss if I didn't include our pelagic trip in this round-up. As I did earlier, I want to stress again because it bears repeating: we live in a state with albatrosses offshore. I will never tire of this fact, because it's an extraordinary thing. Seabirds are extraordinary things. Hell, the Pacific Ocean itself is an extraordinary thing.

While we've gotten around a good deal in the past year, there's still plenty more to see, and we'll keep on filling up that map. We've got plans over the next months to visit Malheur, Crater Lake, and the Columbia River Gorge. Meanwhile, we'll keep exploring, learning, and making up for lost time (from talking to people, it seems like we've already seen more of Oregon than many native Oregonians have in their entire lives). For two people who have moved around quite a bit, it's a relief to finally feel settled in a place, especially after taking such a risk in coming out here. We're glad to have been able to share so many of our experiences from the past year with you, and we're equally excited about all of the adventures to come!

Here Be Albatrosses: Our First Pacific Pelagic

Ah, the Pacific Ocean. Our longing eyes have scanned your vast and mighty waters endlessly, searching, without hope, for glimpses of Captains Nemo, Hornblower, Ahab, or Wolf Larsen. Somewhere out there are are Blue Whales, Mola mola, and Giant Squid. More to the point, there are albatrosses. That there are albatrosses off the Oregon coast is something that my brain has only barely managed to register as fact, and yet we were certain to see some once we got out on the open sea for our first ever pelagic on the Pacific.

Yaquina Bay Bridge at sunrise

This would be the inaugural voyage for a new company, Oregon Pelagic Tours, setting out from Yaquina Bay around 7:30a. This was in mid-February, and the earliest molting Red-necked Grebes were starting to take on a cleaner, more dapper look. Large numbers of Surf Scoters and Western Gulls combined with lesser numbers of assorted cormorants, loons, and diving ducks close to the rock jetty. As we made our way out of the harbor, we started seeing more and more alcids: Common Murres, Marbled and Ancient Murrelets, Rhinoceros Auklets.

Red-necked Grebe looking handsome

One of the first good birds seen on the trip was a Parakeet Auklet, which both Maureen and I were able to see, but only poorly. It was certainly an auklet -- we can swear to that much -- although we wouldn't have been able to say which kind, since it stayed relatively distant, and the waves insisted on keeping it hidden 80% of the time. Oh well, it'll have to be a lifer for another day.

But soon, the main attraction was upon us. Our expected albatross for the day was Laysan, with hopes of maybe (fingers crossed) finding a Short-tailed or two. What was not expected was that we'd be swamped by roughly two dozen Black-footed Albatrosses over the course of the day, outnumbering Laysans by a comfortable margin. Seeing an albatross at all was one of the pinnacles of our birding careers, especially out west, and here we had absolute beauties from two different species. 

Black-footed Albatross

Just a ridiculous number of Black-footed Albatrosses. Six in this photo alone.

And a good south wind sprung up behind;
The Albatross did follow,
And every day, for food or play,
Came to the mariner's hollo!

Laysan Albatross

Joining them in good numbers were Northern Fulmars, dwarfed by the albatrosses, and with almost half the wingspan. For us, these were nearly as exciting. They were always a remote possibility during the pelagics we've taken out of Florida, but they'd always eluded us. I hadn't imagined that we would find them in such abundance once we got out on the Pacific, but it was fantastic watching them zip every which way, threading the space between the other pelagic species.

Northern Fulmar

Black-footed Albatrosses come in for a landing, while the indefatigable fulmar threads the air on the left side of the photo

Laysan Albatross and Northern Fulmar

The other bird that we were practically guaranteed during the trip, and that we were no less excited about for it's local abundance, was Black-legged Kittiwake. It's a really striking gull, and an awesome compliment to the menageries that gathered in the chum slicks. Unfortunately, I can't help but feel that we short-changed them attention-wise, since they had to compete with the most perfect gliding machines ever to grace the skies. 

Black-legged Kittiwake

Black-footed Albatrosses and Black-legged Kittiwake

Before we left Savannah, we were warned that even if we never got seasick on the Atlantic Ocean, the Pacific would surely do us in. Precautions were taken, but they proved inadequate for one of us, putting our principle photographer out of commission for some stretches of time (unfortunately, only one of us saw a Pink-footed Shearwater). On top of that, we missed some species that were seen briefly, or by only a few (neither of us saw a Parasitic Jaeger or Thayer's Gull). I casually heard one of the spotters mentioned that he'd seen a Mola mola earlier… well, thanks a lot, buddy.

Still, this trip completely lived up to our expectations. We didn't see a huge number of new species, but we did see the expected ones. They were new, and they were magnificent. Albatrosses are no longer merely the stuff of dreams (particularly laudanum-induced ones; see Coleridge, above), but are no less the stuff of legend for their being real and present. As the boat made it's way back into the harbor, we checked the jetty for Rock Sandpipers, which never turned up. We did get one last lifer for the day, though: out on one of the buoys was a solitary Steller's sea lion, clearly much more blonde than the California sea lions that laze on the docks all winter long. Soon afterward we disembarked, partly reminiscing about an amazing day, and partly fantasizing about what we'd see next time.

Exploring St. Maarten

A couple of months ago, I was fortunate enough to have a business trip to St. Maarten, a small island in the Caribbean. It was formerly split into two territories, the Dutch side and the French side, but it’s now one nation. However, it still retains some of this division culturally. I so very much wanted Nick to come along so we could enjoy the island together, but we just couldn’t make it work (especially since we have a big trip planned in June). I had told him I would put my “bird blinders” on so that I wouldn’t be tempted to set my eyes upon the cool birds there without him. Nick of course said no way and that I should have fun and take advantage of this great opportunity, which meant enjoying the birds, too. I just wouldn’t count any new birds on my official life list since we don’t count a life bird until we both see it.

St. Maarten airport is known for having a very short runway, and tourists enjoy watching the planes coming in close, as well as feeling the blast from the planes when taking off. 

So with Nick’s “blessing” and my binoculars and camera, I decided that I would try to look at as many birds as I could within the constraints of the trip. Most of my days would be in meetings, but any free time I had early in the morning and in the late afternoon, I would check out the birds around the hotel. I figured that the island being small, there was bound to be plenty of birds everywhere, and I was right! The hotel grounds were full of Bananquits and Carib Grackles (“lifer”). The grackles were EVERYWHERE I went on the island, and constantly singing and trilling all day long. There would be no way that bird blinders would have worked with these guys. And like any grackle, they relished in the scraps that would fall from the tables of the outdoor restaurants at the hotel.

The Bananaquits were also very vocal. These guys are so cute and spunky. We had seen them when we visited Puerto Rico a few years ago, so it was not a new species, but so cool to see them again. I love the pop of bright yellow of their underparts, and I got good looks at their red gapes as they sang. I also stumbled upon a couple of what I surmise were Bananaquit nests woven into some flower bushes around the hotel.

Another bird staple around the hotel were Ruddy Turnstones. These were definitely not new birds for
me, but it was so nice to see them again. Having moved from the east coast to the west coast, we swapped these birds for their darker cousins, Black Turnstones. The Ruddy Turnstones seemed to be residents to the hotel, very comfortable with people being very nearby. This was great for me to allow me to get some really great shots of them.

A nice look at the ruddy feathers starting to come in

The turnstones would often hang out at the rocks on the shore just in front of the hotel. I was happy to see that they were also often accompanied by lovely Sally Lightfoot Crabs (what a fun name!). They had a common purpose in picking off yummy tidbits off of the rocks.

I was totally stoked about seeing Brown Boobies on this trip. The Brown Booby was again not new, but it was a recent addition to our life list. I could not have asked for better views of this amazing bird! The day I came into town was a free day to allow for travel, so the first thing I did after my 15 hour redeye flight was head to the shore, and lo and behold, there was an immature Brown Booby flying within yards of me! I would see one every day of the trip, including a nice adult. I couldn’t believe how close he was swooping by swimmers in the water, gliding just within a few feet of them.

Other familiar faces that popped up on the hotel grounds were Eurasian Collared Doves and Zenaida Doves (another bird we saw in Puerto Rico). Even the EUCDs seemed lovelier on St. Maarten. Maybe it was all the sunshine. They seemed to be embracing the relaxed island life just fine.

Zenaida Dove

Luckily, I wasn’t just confined to the hotel and meeting rooms. On our last full day of the trip, we were treated with a bus tour of the island and then had some free time. One stop was in Marigot, on the French side, and a group of us hiked up to the fort there. I had great views of the island as well as views of a group of some Magnificent Frigatebirds, one of my favorites and most missed birds of our Florida days! I’m glad to know that the island loves them as well – there was a statue with some Mag Frigs by the waterfront. 

I call this my "Les Miserables" photo

The glorious silhouette of a Magnificent Frigatebird looking like a funky spaceship

On this free day, I also had some time to explore some other critters on the island, including the Anguilla Bank Anole (life lizard), Vitellius Skipper (life butterfly), and Cassius Blue. Oh, and I can’t forget the critter that I heard every night but couldn’t see – the sweet little Coqui Antillano frog. They make such a delightful sound at night and could just sing me to sleep.

My absolute most favorite bird and animal of the trip was the Antillean Crested Hummingbird. This is one badass bird, rocking a punk mowhawk. He was such a quick little guy like most hummers, so I never got great shots of him, but I’m just happy I got any photos!

I’m so glad I was able to take this trip and soak in the sun, sand, and all of the beautiful flora and fauna that a Caribbean island offers. I really wished Nick could have been there with me. I guess we’ll just have to go to the Caribbean together another time so we can check off those new island birds I saw.