Spanish Bird of the Week #12: Grey Wagtail

By James

Robert and I had been chasing down the Bachman’s Sparrow all afternoon. Robert heard the elusive bird deep in the shrubby forests of the Carolina Sandhills, and I decided to go in after it. I got a few distant looks as the bird flitted about on downed pine trees, but my efforts had yielded me nothing but dark, blurry, grainy shots. I was about ready to admit defeat. The Red-cockaded Woodpeckers we looked for earlier were nowhere to be found, and the Bachman’s Sparrow was proving to be quite camera shy.

Despondent, I worked my way back to the sandy road, when Robert announced that the bird seemed to be moving closer. Seconds later the subtle sparrow flew in to within a matter of feet from me, though he was backlit and obscured by pine needles. I shifted over a few feet, slowly of course to make sure not to spook the small bird. All of the sudden I had an open shot, and I got what is undoubtedly one of my favorite of the 416 bird pictures I’ve taken over my birding career. The sun lit up the pine needles, framing the Bachman’s Sparrow that decided this small branch was the perfect spot to burst into song.

A shot like this needs no caption. Except for that one... damn.

After reviewing my pictures that day, and seeing that I got the shot, elation and relief washed over me. Moments like these are why I still love bird photography. It’s undoubtedly a frustrating and challenging hobby. To get a really great picture, you need so many things to go your way, and unfortunately most of these things are out of your control. First off, you need perfect weather. Some people like an overcast day for photography, but I prefer a cloudless sky. Only perfect sunlight really makes a bird’s color truly pop.

What if he had been in the shade? Simply not as good.

Secondly, you need the bird to cooperate. I have seen Blue Jays countless times, but it’s a bird that simply refuses to show itself well when my camera is involved. In addition, you need your camera to cooperate. I realize that it is probably a combination of the steadiness of my hands and the amount of dust on the lens, but I swear that sometimes my camera has good days and sometimes it has bad days.

One of these days we'll find a Blue Jay that's not a total coward...

Lastly, you, the photographer, need to be on your game. If you plan on getting a good picture of a Canada Warbler you need to be able to move and aim your camera just as quickly as those small Parulids can flit about. Some days everything comes together, and you get a picture like the one Robert and I got last summer when an Indigo Bunting sat up singing just a couple feet away from us.

Pretty much the best look I've gotten of any bird. Ever.

Unfortunately, the Grey Wagtail does not have such a glorious conclusion. A quick run through my checklist for perfect bird photography reveals the culprit. Weather? Sunny, not a cloud in the sky. Cooperative bird? Yep. As I walked down the river to my favorite birding haunt, I saw a bird wandering around next to the cement bank of the Guadalquivir River. I assumed it was a House Sparrow when I spotted it in my peripherals. However, as soon as I actually got clean look, from not more than fifteen feet off, I quickly realized the bird's true identity. 

So was it my own photography skills? The Crested Lark and Booted Eagle shot from the day seem to suggest that I had steady hands (da best!), and I had the bird well exposed and in the center of the frame. Which means the camera’s processor had ONE JOB TO DO.

And it failed miserably...

Unfortunately the camera elected to focus on the water behind the bird. Before I got a second opportunity, the wagtail flew off. Luckily, I managed to chase it down and get a somewhat decent shot, but it decided it no longer wanted to be photographed and flew off before I got to within fifty feet. I elected to delete the missed picture (simply too painful to keep) and not toss my camera deep into the Guadalquivir River (why can’t a $400 camera have 35x zoom and produce DSLR quality pics? Jeez.) Of course, if it was always that easy, it wouldn’t be any fun. C’est la bird photography.

Spanish Bird of the Week #11: Booted Eagle

By James

Even before I became a birder, I was fascinated by birds of prey. Though I didn’t know exactly what I was looking at, I’ve always been excited to see a hawk flying overhead. Now that I have become a birder, little has changed. Sure I’m able to differentiate a Red-tailed Hawks from Red-shouldered Hawk, and Cooper’s Hawk from Northern Harrier, but I still enjoy seeing large predatory birds soar across the sky. During my stay in Spain, the most common bird of prey I saw I was the Booted Eagle.

I found the Booted Eagle very interesting, especially for an eagle. Eagles are supposed to be majestic flyers, the most powerful birds in the sky. But in reality, the Booted Eagle is a relatively small bird, far closer in size to a Red-tailed Hawk than the large Golden and Bald Eagles that frequent this side of the pond.

Just like the Red-tailed Hawk, I rarely if ever saw one perched. Instead, the small eagle simply soared directly overhead, catching thermals and circling high into the sky. Thankfully, one day I got a great look. While walking down the Guadalquivir river towards Parque Alamillo, I saw a large bird flying straight at me. Finally, instead of getting an awkward overhead shot, I got a real look at this awesome bird. 

Spanish Bird of the Week #10: Crested Lark

By James

There are only two kinds of European birds that I never figured out how properly dfferentiate. The first is, of course, the Sylviidae – Europe’s sorry excuse for warblers. Any American who’s birded in Europe has probably experienced the near impossible task of differentiating Reed Warblers from Garden Warblers from Bonelli’s Warblers from the other ten species that look practically identical.

The second type is the subject of this post: the larks. Differentiating Crested Larks and Thekla Larks, the two species present in Andalucia, is akin to differentiating Gray-cheeked Thrush from Bicknell’s. That is, nearly impossible if you aren’t an experienced birder in the area.

Which one is it? The ID is difficult even for European birders.

For me, Crested Larks were infinitely common than Thekla Larks. I had twenty to thirty of the Crested variety, but never had a single one that someone could turn into a Thekla Lark. This isn’t necessarily surprising given the Thekla’s prefer dry plains, but it was still disappointing. Crested Larks, on the other hand seemed to enjoy just about any habitat.

I frequently saw them in grassy plains, patches of dry dirt, and even along the well-traveled path that runs alongside the Guadalquivir River, which is were I got my best picture of the lark. It’s a fairly disappointing shot for such a common bird. Oh well. I guess I’ll have to go back at some point.

Spanish Bird of the Week #9: Rose-ringed Parakeet

By James

::ROBERT'S NOTE:: Man, it's been awhile since I've posted anything... I've got a lack of Internets at the moment, what can I say. Still, I can't deny James a chance to post his Spanish bird of the week, so here it is!

Non-native species constantly cause fits for birders, especially those who are listers. European Starlings, European Collared-Doves and House Sparrow are all native to Eurasia, but through various means they have made their way across the pond and are now (unfortunately) well-established and recognized by the American Ornithologists Union as countable species.

Classifications like these take most of the ambiguity out of species counting, but what does one do with a less-established introduced population? It is generally accepted that released pets are not countable, or else I would have Blue-crowned Parakeet on my list, but can one count the small flocks of Mitered Parakeets that Robert and I saw flying over San Diego several years ago?

Not countable by anybody... but still awesome to see in urban Seville!

Thankfully the Rose-ringed Parakeets that live in Seville have a well-established population, and I have no qualms about counting this bird. These parakeets were easy to find in the many urban parks, but I also found them along the river and in the expansive Parque Alamillo. While I found them everywhere, the best place to get them was within the magnificent Parque Maria Luisa. While walking around it was unusual to not hear these loud squawking birds, and without to much effort I would often see 20 to 30 in a single visit.

They quickly became the equivalent of a Northern Cardinal to me, where I would hear them, know they what they were, and not pay them any attention, something I never thought could happen with a bird as magnificent as the Rose-ringed Parakeet. 

The knowledge that they were not a native species took away some of the enjoyment of seeing them, but I still loved seeing these bright green parakeets flying from tree to tree in urban Spain. 

Spanish Bird of the Week #8: Great Tit

As Robert has discussed many times, using playback to get birds out into the open and show off a little bit is a trick we have used many times. While some claim that it disturbs the birds and others claim it cheapens birding, nobody can dispute that it can net you some really incredible views. Just look at the Indigo Bunting or Prairie Warbler that graces our banner!

However, playback only works when you have the ability to identify birds by their call. I struggle with this in the States, and in Spain I was pretty much helpless. While I would listen for calls, I rarely knew what I was hearing, I only knew what I species I had previously heard, and would listen for a strange or a new sound. One of the few songs I eventually became familiar with was that of the Great Tit.

This common, chickadee-esque bird was common in rural parks and open spaces, but it was always a treat to see. I’d seen the birds countless times, but they would always hop around too quickly or stay out of the light, making it difficult for me to get a picture. That is, until one morning when I heard the high-pitched call of the Great Tit and elected to try my luck with a little playback.

The bird immediately responded and while still more jumpy than I’d like, it eventually moved in close giving me the chance for a great picture. Oh, and if anybody wants to debate the pros/cons of using playback like this, look for an essay on the subject in the near future!

Spanish Bird of the Week #7: Great Cormorant

By James

While I was writing this blog post, I realized that the Great Cormorant has been, for me, the Giving Bird. Though it’s cool enough by itself, I’ve always associated the Great Cormorant with awesome birding experiences, whether in Spain, Italy or at that old Coast Guard station on Pea Island.

I first saw this impressive bird along the Guadalquivir River that runs through Seville. After two weeks in Spain, I grew tired of birding the small municipal parks and after glancing at a map (apparently they still make those, weird!), I noticed a rather large park in the northwest corner of the city: Parque Alamillo quickly became my go-to birding spot. When I first decided to head down, I was not pleased about the 45-minute walk it took to get there. However, it turned out the walk along the Guadalquivir was fantastic for birding. While heading back from the park (more on that later), I saw a cormorant actually swimming on the water, instead of flying overhead as per usual. Much to my chagrin, the bird dove down before I was able to get a good picture. Then, an agonizing thirty seconds later, it surfaced close-by and give me a fantastic look at the brilliant blue eyes of the Great Cormorant.

I’ll always remember seeing these birds along the canals of Venice. It’s a city I’d always wanted to visit, though not for the birding (although I did get three lifers during my trip there). However, while I looked out across the Venetian Lagoon, I saw these large black birds preening on the pillars. I was shocked to see them in breeding plumage – I’ve been seeing Double-crested Cormorants for years, but never have I seen them with ridiculous-looking white necks like these Greats. It was almost like getting another lifer! I kept seeing these birds throughout my stay in Europe, and ran into them again back in the States.

Great Cormorants are pretty uncommon in North Carolina, but not hard to find given the right time and place. Apparently that time and place is Oregon Inlet in the dead of winter. We talked earlier about how we had found these birds on the Pea Island Christmas Bird Count, but it was a very unique experience for me. Robert and I have birded together for a while. We’ve shared a lot of life birds, and he’s seen me get a lot of life birds that he’d seen several times before. But this trip to the old Coast Guard station gave me the opportunity to get Robert a life bird that I’d already seen, and I took full advantage. I made sure that he knew all the times I saw them in Europe, and how much better the views were.

The last experience I’ll never forget once again found us at the old Coast Guard station, but I never actually saw the bird. The light was pretty good on the pillar where the Great Cormorant had been staying, and Robert wanted to check out his previous life bird once again. But thanks to the huge number of times I’ve seen them, and the sweet looks I got, I had no interest in walking across the highway to see a particularly dingy-looking individual. I argued that there were better birds to be seen if we walked out to the jetty. Robert conceded, and as fate would have it, that decision meant we walked past some reeds at the exact time that a small Dovekie floundered about, leading to one of our best birding experiences ever: saving an awesome and unusual bird from an uncertain fate.

I have had some incredible experiences with Great Cormorants, whether my breathtaking life looks, seeing them in full breeding plumage in what is quite possibly the most beautiful city in the world, or gloating as Robert enjoyed a bird I had enjoyed plenty of times before. But nothing quite beats totally ignoring them and instead pulling a stranded Dovekie out of a bush. The Great Cormorant is beautiful bird, and one of my favorites: the Giving Bird.    

Spanish Bird of the Week #6: Common Moorhen

By James

There are several North American birds that have a nearly identical European counterpart. Our Winter Wren is essentially indistinguishable from the Eurasian Wren. The Green-winged Teal is so similar to the Common Teal that it still hasn’t been split by the AOU. A couple months before I left for Spain, our Common Gallinule was split from Europe’s Common Moorhen, a bird I encountered in the urban Parque Maria Luisa.

(Spoiler: I also got the Eurasian Wren and the Common Teal, but we’ll get there eventually.) 

The Common Moorhen was a bird I’d been hoping to get, but I wasn’t expecting to find it in such a small pond. In fact, when I first found the bird I didn’t even have my camera me! I came back the next day and it was in the same pond, and while it seemed a little frightened of me it couldn’t really get too far.

As surprised as I was to find Common Moorhens in such an urban area, I was even more surprised to find that they were breeding in the park. When I visited the spot a few weeks later, I found a Common Moorhen, presumably the same one, swimming with offspring.

Unfortunately, as a result of the odd and jerky swimming motion of the moorhen, I was never able to get a fantastic picture, despite the fact that I was often within fifteen feet of them. Now I just need to find the American version of this cool and colorful waterfowl!

Spanish Bird of the Week #5: Eurasian Collared Dove

By James

The Eurasian Collared Dove has become an invasive species throughout large portions of the United States, and is rapidly expanding its range throughout the country. While it isn’t yet affecting the local Mourning Dove populations, there are just so many of them they’re becoming a starling-level pest at bird feeders and county parks. Though I first glimpsed them in southern California, I was lucky enough to see Eurasian Collared Doves in Spain – but let me tell you, they’re just as annoying in their native land.

Even though they’re supposed to be there, no bird would so constantly infuriate me as these birds did. I was lucky enough to get a pretty awesome picture of this shockingly common bird around two weeks into my stay, meaning I had no reason to pursue them and try for a better look. This sort of thing happens often enough. I no longer try to get pictures of cardinals, chickadees or towhees, but I don’t hate this birds. I actually enjoy watching towhees do that odd jump to clear foliage while they look for food. I like seeing chickadees swoop in and grab food off the feeders in my yard, and I still love seeing the crimson flashes of a male cardinal. No, I don’t hate the Eurasian Collared Dove because it’s common. In fact, it’s because of how they fly.

Photo by lostinfog via Flickr.

As the doves came in for landings, they’d spread their tails and wings, soaring and circling, much like a raptor. I always hope that they were Common Kestrels or maybe some small kite. However, once I got a picture and saw one of the abundantly enumerable doves, I found myself muttering curses at the bird under my breath. Thankfully I no longer I have to deal with these raptor imitators, though there presence in coastal North Carolina suggests that within a few years we may be seeing these nuisances throughout the Piedmont. Not looking forward to seeing them again, but hopefully I now have enough experience that, like Roger Daltry and The Who I… won’t get fooled again.

YEEEEEEAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!

Spanish Bird of the Week #4: Eurasian Jackdaw

By James

Like all of the birds I’ve showcased thus far from my Spanish travels, the Eurasian Jackdaw was a very common bird, at least for my first two months in Seville. I first saw them hanging out on one of the countless cathedrals that speckle the city center.

Of course all of those looks meant the birds were 60 to 80 feet away from me, and way up high. Finally, on the same cloudy day I described last week, I found one feeding low in a tree. However, as birds have an annoying tendency to do, it lined itself up perfectly, with a branch going straight through the face.

The jackdaws, along with a host of other birds, seemed to move out as the weather got warm. This stick-through-the-face shot would have to do, but the change in seasons meant many more birds would come my way!  

Spanish Bird of the Week #3: Song Thrush

By James

On a rare cloudy day in Seville, I elected to travel to another one of the urban parks that dot the city. While calling this park a greenway would be more than a compliment, it still gave me a good look at one of Europe’s more common birds, the Song Thrush.

Like the thrushes we get in the States, distinguishing a Song Thrush from the closely related Mistle Thrush is no easy task. There are several distinguishing characteristics, such as their behavior. Mistle Thrushes tend to stay on the ground, and stay very upright, while Song Thrushes kept to the trees. Thankfully, the thrush gave me a perfect look at the best diagnostic, the breast patterning. 

The Song Thrush’s breast speckles are described as “upside-down hearts” while those of the Mistle Thrush seem more like thorns. Unfortunately, I never came across a Mistle Thrush in my four months abroad, though I found several more Song Thrushes. I guess I’ll need to do another trip over to Europe to get them. Que mala suerte.

Spanish Bird of the Week #2: Spotless Starling

ROBERT'S NOTE: James's adventures in Spain continue with another awesome European bird, a bird I didn't even know existed until just before he left!

Much earlier in our illustrious blogging career, we commented on the European Starling, and the inglorious task of finding these pesky invasives. While I saw my “lifer” in the beautiful park surrounding Independence Hall in Philadelphia, all one really has to do is head to the nearest Bojangles’, grocery store, or urban area, and there they are.

I was surprised to find out that in Europe, or at least in Andalucia, there are no Bojangles’. Crushing. Perhaps consequently, there are also not many European Starlings, a bird they call the Common Starling. I never ate at Bojangles’ in Spain, and I never saw a Common Starling. I feel this is a situation where correlation does not equal correlation. However, I was more than happy to dip on the Common Starling because I was fortunate enough to run into one of their very close relatives, the Spotless Starling.

Walking back from my visit to Parque Maria Luisa, I heard an odd noise coming from a nearby patch of trees. Early in my Spanish adventures, just about every call was an odd call, but that’s because almost every bird is a life bird. A quick glance through the trees and I located the bird, out in the open and singing in the winter sun. Unfortunately, I only found one more Spotless Starling during my trip, but at least I was able to get a nice little break from the large flocks of those annoying parking lot birds we get in the States.

Way cooler than the starlings we get around here! Stay tuned next Sunday for another edition of the Spanish Bird of the Week!

Sunday Spain Bird of the Week #1: Common Kestrel

ROBERT'S NOTE: Early last year, James got to visit Spain as part of his study abroad program, and boy did he see some great birds! So, every week he's decided to write up a different European species as part of an ongoing series we're calling the Sunday Spain Spectacular: Los Aves del Espagna - The Birds of Spain! ... it's a working title.

In January of 2011 I was fortunate enough to spend a semester abroad in the awesome Andalucían city of Seville. While it was an absolutely amazing experience, getting to travel through Europe and experiencing an incredible city, it also provided with some pretty sweet birding. Spain is in a bit of a butter zone for birds, getting both African species, common European species and some really cool migrants. In the four months that I was abroad I managed to get 115 life birds, including 58 within the extremely urban city of Seville. The first bird I saw was a Common Kestrel, which flew about in the fairly large city parkland, Parque Maria Luisa. 

Unfortunately this distant look from atop some sort of giant scaffolding was the best picture I ever got of this awesome bird, and it became a bit of a nemesis. I certainly had my chances. I may have gotten another shot of a bird circling the massive Seville Cathedral, but it is impossible to determine whether it is a Common Kestrel or the threatened Lesser Kestrel. Luckily I got a much better shot the Lesser Kestrel a few weeks later, but we’ll get there. 

I had a third chance when I encountered a Common Kestrel feeding on the ground in the Parque Alamillo. Unfortunately he was facing away from me and as I moved to get a good shot, that arch-nemesis of birders, a runner, scared him off. This left me out of luck, and the distant shot you see at the top of the page is the best one I got of the Common Kestrel. Don’t worry though, almost all of the other 114 bird pictures are a lot better! I swear!

  

Man, what a cool bird! The jealousy doesn't stop there - check back every week for a new Spanish bird and more awesome European birding adventures!