Spanish Bird of the Week #15: Lesser Kestrel

By James

I mentioned in an earlier Spanish Bird of the Week that the Common Kestrel became a bit of a nemesis bird for me. Luckily, I had a much better experience finding and photographing the far less common Lesser Kestrel. Not only did Lesser Kestrels frequent the massive Seville Cathedral (the third largest cathedral in the world) but they also made their homes in some of the smaller churches throughout the city. Fortunately for me, one of these smaller cathedrals could be found just four short blocks from my apartment. I typically just saw the small falcon, which is actually considerably larger than our American Kestrels, flying over the cathedral or city square, but on one occasion I was fortunate enough to find them perched on a low overhang.

Not only was this by far the closest to the ground I had ever seen these birds, but it was also my first time seeing a male. These birds became one of my favorite parts of my city walks, and I saw them almost daily as the church they frequented was right along my path to the Parque del Alamillo. But I never got better looks at these dapper birds than that time I found them perched on my local cathedral.

The Quasi-Lifer

As often happens in birding, sometimes you get a perfectly serviceable and identifiable view of a bird you’ve never seen before. This bird is a lifer, beyond a shadow of a doubt, yet your views are far too fleeting and you’re left with a tick on your life-list that is little more than a name. For me, this bird was the Razorbill, an alcid that breeds in the northern reaches of our hemisphere. I’ve seen several, but always a mile or so out in the distant surf, little more than a speeding football with wings. This Sunday, James and I headed to the southeast corner of the state to try for his lifer Razorbill, with little more than a sliver of hope that his lifer photo would be identifiable.

I’d always heard that Johnnie Mercer’s pier in Wrightsville Beach was the place to go for these so-called “flying penguins”, but every time I visit they’re nowhere to be found. At least, I told myself, I could occupy my time trying to pick out the Pacific Loon that was said to frequent the structure. We arrived at first light, with the sun blazing over the horizon, and the flock of loons already far out to sea and situated in the sun’s glare. I glanced away from my scope just long enough to see a view I’d find increasingly frequent as the day wore on.

It was a Razorbill, less than ten feet away! James snapped his lifer photo but with a tip and a quick flap of its wings, the bird dove far underwater. As I scoped around the ocean, I found Razorbills everywhere I looked – some close, diving just off the pier, other dotted amongst the loons, and still more flying past in long lines of southbound birds. While we enjoyed their antics, the Razorbills dove and surfaced a little too quickly for a decent picture, and James instead had to settle for his second lifer that day – a tight flock of Black Scoter that buzzed the end of the pier.

From there, we decided to visit Carolina Beach Lake to try and find the drake Long-tailed Duck that had been frequenting its shores. Unfortunately, the lake was drained when we got there, its high waters giving way to mudflats. Boat-tailed Grackles and White Ibis fed along the mud, and our only consolation was this beautiful Tricolored Heron roosting just offshore.

In a tree above the lake, I found this little Yellow-rumped Warbler chipping in some of the lower hanging branches. These “butter-butts” have to be the most common bird along coastal North Carolina – it’s hard to go anywhere without hearing their familiar call-note. If you can find a grove of wax myrtles, it’s not uncommon to have a decent sized flock foraging on berries. This little guy responded to my pishing, and decided to investigate, giving me great looks of this surprisingly common bird.

So the lake was a bust. C’est la birding as James would say. Our next stop was the old Civil War museum at Fort Fisher, a great place to find some otherwise hard to see birds. As we pulled up, I noted a tree that last time I was a here housed a pair of Loggerhead Shrikes. I asked James to check the tree as we drove past, and sure enough, a Loggerhead Shrike watched his territory from atop a leafy throne.

I love shrike vocalizations – so metallic, like it shouldn’t belong in nature. The bird flew from his perch to another just across the street, which happened to be my go-to spot for another hard-to-see species: Sedge Wren. In this random little section of Fort Fisher where a mowed field abuts marsh reeds, I can always get these secretive little birds to show up with a little playback. Sure enough, this little guy decided to poke his head out and see what was going on.

If you’re at the Civil War Museum, you’ve got to check out the old gazebo across the street. A wall of gigantic rocks lines the beach here, which for whatever reason make perfectly suitable habitat for several sparrow species. Song Sparrows will flit in and out of the crevices, and you’re hard pressed to walk past without hearing the reedy whistle of a Savannah Sparrow. This particularly bright individual sat up on the rocks giving us fantastic looks.

At high tide, waves crash against the protective rocks, and many jetty-loving species that usually stay far out to sea will come in to feed. Immediately, we found a small flock of Buffleheads, and a little scoping revealed a pair of female Black Scoters quite close by. As I looked up from my scope, I barely glimpsed that which I’d become so familiar with earlier in the morning. James leapt onto the rocks to ready himself when the bird surfaced. Sure enough…

Another Razorbill! This one swam calmly just off the rocks and didn’t dive like the others had. Finally, after all the stories I’d heard, I was able to view this species close up and for a good amount of time. No longer will I remember Razorbills as that winged dot zooming across the horizon. Now I’ll always think of that ‘flying penguin’ bobbing up and down in the waves just off Fort Fisher. It may have been on my life list already, but these were definitely my life-views. My quasi-lifer.

A Special Broccasion

Thanks to President Franklin D. Roosevelt somewhat arbitrarily assigning Thanksgiving to the fourth Thursday in November, James was able to come home during his break. We decided to celebrate the occasion by trying to find James his lifer Iceland Gull on Falls Lake. Though I’d seen it a couple days earlier, we were unable to relocate this bird amongst the large flock of gulls and cormorants. Instead, we made do with a trio of immature Bald Eagles that graciously circled overhead.

There was also a fourth-year individual that was starting to grow in its white head and tail.

That’s when James noticed something white high up in the clouds. I assumed it was a gull, but after getting it in my scope, I was surprised to see an American White Pelican riding the very thermals the eagles were enjoying. It’s another bird I’d seen recently at the location, but because the bird hadn’t been reported in days, I thought it’d left. We watched as a small Cessna from the nearby airfield appeared to come dangerously close to the large bird, though I’m sure it was an optical illusion. Still not something you see everyday around here!

Honestly, from this distance, the pelican looked as big as the Cessna!

Because he had a couple days left in town, we decided to hit up our old standby of Mason Farm, where we can always expect good birding. We weren’t disappointed – as soon as I stepped out of the car, I heard the perky chirps of a flock of Pine Siskins. This is supposed to be a great winter for irruptive finches, and though we haven’t heard hide or feather of grosbeaks and crossbills, seeing the siskins again is good enough for me.

I never get tired of hearing their rip-cord calls. Look forward to it every winter!

But the finch party didn’t stop there – we spotted a couple of Purple Finches along the old canal. While one of them was clearly a female, the other had flecks and hues of raspberry coloring in its plumage, like it had just bathed in a puddle of red wine. Either it’s a young male just starting to attain his adult feathers, or it’s an extremely mature female individual. The former is probably more likely, but either way we only got a good shot of the undeniably female bird.

I honestly don't get to see a whole lot of Purple Finches - this is by far my best view ever.

Along the fields, we noticed large flocks of Field Sparrows moving through the hedges. Normally a pretty skittish species, several of the birds popped into an open view, even responding to some tapes, something I’m not used to with this species in winter. We got such good looks that I was able to appreciate the subtle plumage of these tiny birds, complete with their bubblegum pink bills and their wide white eye-rings. These have got to be the one of the most adorable birds in the state!

Except for maybe Winter Wrens - they might take the cake in the cuteness category.

Not to be outdone, a nearby Northern Mockingbird stopped skulking in one of the bushes and perched out in the open. James froze because he was quite close to the bird, easily within five feet. He tried to take a picture, but against all odds, the mockingbird moved even closer to him. The bird ended up within the camera’s minimum focal distance, so James actually had to step back to take the shot you see below. But oh what a shot!

You can see every damn feather on this bad boy, from it's slightly-worn primaries to the bristles 'round it's bill!

Now when we showed up to Mason Farm, it was cold. Not like real cold, but certainly North Carolina cold – somewhere in the high forties or so. James and I both had our sweatshirts on, and I even opted to wear gloves. Even the birds seemed to be feeling it, some of them puffing up their feathers to retain heat. So herping was the last thing on my mind, but even so, James and I decided to flip our “Magic Snake Log” (actually a 6x6 wooden beam) to try our luck. And sure enough…

This is the third species of snake we've found under "Magic Snake Log" - it's living up to its reputation!

This small Eastern Garter Snake lay underneath, curled up against the winter weather. When I picked him up, he was quite cold, a tribute to their ectothermic habits. While I held and posed him, the exquisite snake started to warm up, even taking a strike at me. This is the garter snake I know, a cantankerous musking snake that doesn’t like to be held. But when the temperatures are this low, snakes don’t really have much of a choice. So I’ll choose to enjoy calm garter snakes and confiding birds for as long as I can – however long that may last.

#55: Bushtit - Famosa Slough, CA

Before I headed out to California during the summer of 2010, I had a short-list of birds I wanted to see. On that list was the miniscule Bushtit, the only North American representative of the largely Eurasian family called Aegithalidae, or the long-tailed tits. I looked forward to seeing these birds all summer, but when I arrived in San Diego, I was surprised to that they were one of the first birds I saw.

Bushtits are wholly unique among North American birds. For one, they fly in tightly-knit flocks numbering between 20-40 birds, moving through low shrubs and bushes even in suburban habitat. I say “flock”, but these birds skillfully move between dense branches, flitting in and out more like a swarm of flies over roadkill. Additionally, the sexes look quite similar except for one key difference: female Bushtits have light-colored eyes, while those of the male are pure black, like shark’s eyes.

Which would make this one a male Bushtit.

During our time in San Diego, James and I found that Bushtits are particularly responsive to taped calls. Merely playing the tape in their general vicinity would lead to a swarm of these tiny birds in the nearest shrub. As such, we had fantastic views of these birds at close range, and got equally fantastic photos. I can’t wait til I can head out that way again, and get to enjoy these birds in all their miniscule glory.

Spanish Bird of the Week #14: Sardinian Warbler

By James

Previously, I’ve mentioned why I enjoy bird photography so much. The challenge, the frequent failure and the eventual rewards all make it an incredibly enjoyable hobby. A fortuitous byproduct of photography is that is really helps out with identification. This doesn’t happen as often anymore, but when I was a traveling novice birder, I would often identify birds by scrutinizing the photos on my computer. Usually I have my hunches and am able to confirm them in the field, but from time to time I completely misidentify a bird.

For instance, I have no real memory of seeing my lifer Purple Finch. Robert and I made a stop at Dairyland Road two winters ago to look for White-crowned Sparrows. I snapped a picture of a bird that I must have written off as a House Finch at the time, but when I got back to the computer I saw the picture and realized I had made a mistake. But hey – free lifer!

Upon further review - much more different!

An even more unusual situation is when I have a similar realization while viewing my photos on the computer, but it comes months or even years after I snap the picture. This has taken place only twice: once in Nicaragua with an Orange-chinned Parakeet (which I originally assumed was a more common Crimson-fronted Parakeet) and once in the mountain town of Ronda in Spain where I got my lifer Sardinian Warbler.

To be fair, it would have been easier to ID if we had a good Nicaragua bird guide.

Fortunately I have a much clearer memory of finding the Sardinian Warbler than the Purple Finch or the parakeet. The town of Ronda has one major tourist attraction – a gigantic stone bridge spanning a chasm nearly 400 feet deep. I was hiking down into said chasm and, of course, birding along the way. Spring was right around the corner, which meant the birds were quite active, and I ran into European Goldfinches, Red-billed Choughs and a Common Raven.

Looks like something out of Lord of the Rings!

I came around a bend and saw this small black bird sitting on a branch. Unfortunately I only got one shot of the back of the bird, hiding (for the most part) the bright red eye ring that would have been a dead give away. I assumed it was one the very common Blackcaps, which is a pretty embarrassing misidentification as there would be no white throat, and the back would be grey.

A lifer is a lifer!

That remained my identification until last July, almost a year and a half after the picture was taken, when a random bout of nostalgia led me to flip through some of the pictures from my semester abroad. After gaining more experience with Blackcaps during the course of my stay, I instantly realized I had made a mistake in my first month of Spanish birding and that I’d actually seen a Sardinian Warbler! And that is why I will continue to take pictures first and ask questions later… even if it’s sometimes much later.

Scouting for Scoters

For the past few days, a Surf Scoter has been reported on and off from the Hickory Hills Boat Ramp on Falls Lake. This part of the lake falling in Durham, I needed the bird for my county list, and headed out yesterday morning to chase it. Unfortunately, after about an hour of scanning the lake, I packed up and left. No way was this scoter still around, I thought. The lake seemed totally devoid of birds! Later that same day, however, the bird was refound.

So today I tried again, this time opting to check the lake later in the afternoon, when the light was better. But after another hour, still no luck. A local fisherman looked intrigued by my scope setup, so I showed him a flock of cormorants roosting a half mile away near the interstate. He was pretty impressed. My first Pine Siskin of the winter flew over and I told him how I identified the bird by its flight call. That started a conversation about all the birds you could find on the lake, and I pointed out crows, egrets, and herons. I was starting to explain ways you could identify birds by flight when I saw an odd dark bird rocket into a nearby cove. It wasn’t elongate like a cormorant, but more like a football with wings. I swung my scope over and sure enough – Surf Scoter!

I showed the fisherman, and although he was still impressed by the optical range of my scope, he was less impressed by the dingy first-year bird in front of him. A birder’s bird I guess. I raced down the clay hillside and made my way towards the cove, but got stopped a hundred feet away when the route became impassable. Still, I was close enough to snap a couple pics of the bird foraging along lake’s edge. It’s not as pretty as the clown-faced males I can find along the coast, but it’s good enough for Durham county bird #214!

On my way back I stopped by the artificial wetland were I’d gotten my 213^th county bird earlier this week. Sure enough the American Bittern was sitting just in front of the bird blind, neck outstretched as a form of camouflage. Clearly the bittern thought it was doing a good job, because it barely flinched as I sat there photographing it!

Eventually the bittern got bored, or hungry, or some combination of the two, and started making its way around the wetland, doing this odd kind of shuffle with its feet, presumably to scare up a meal. I watched it spear at crayfish and frogs, as a school of tiny minnows tried to flee from its gigantic feet. I’ve never seen a bittern this active, it’s a heck of an experience. But don’t take my word for it: check out the video!

So it’s been a good week. Two awesome county birds, some early winter visitors, and absolutely beautiful weather. If this is how the vagrant season is shaping up and it’s only October, it’s gonna be one hell of a winter! 

Goes Down Easy Like Vermouth and Bitterns

When you’ve found over 200 birds in your county, it becomes difficult to add ticks to your county list. One of the birds I’ve been dreading is the American Bittern because it usually involves waking up before dawn in early Spring and heading out to rural Durham county, just hoping you’ll flush one from the local waterfowl impoundments. So when I heard that same bittern could be found at a spot that’s been one of my birding haunts since I first took up the activity, I jumped at the opportunity.

I got off work late and raced over to the running trails that lay alongside the Washington-Duke golf course. The gravel parking lots were full, so I ended up starting my journey from the neighborhood that I grew up in – a little far away for my comfort, given how quickly the sun was descending in the sky. I was afraid that it would be too dark to photograph the bird were it still present, so I decided to do something I’ve not done in a long time – I ran.

Out of breath, I paused on the bridge that stretched across the artificial wetland. I put my binoculars up to my face, and I saw it. The American Bittern was a couple hundred feet away, motionless in front of a wooden walkway. I had my county bird, but I wanted more. So I ran over to the walkway, tiptoeing once I got there so I wouldn’t frighten the bird. I looked out of the viewing platform and… I couldn’t find it.

Frantically I searched. I’d just seen it, I know I had. There’s the little peninsula of pond weed I saw from the bridge, a couple of willows, the creek. The bittern was nowhere to be seen. I casually glanced to my right, and immediately realized my mistake. I’d been looking about twenty feet too far away. The American Bittern stood just six feet off the viewing platform, looking right at me. I pulled out my camera, but couldn’t see through the viewfinder because my glasses were fogged up from all the running. With a little effort, I managed the one decent shot you see below.

The bittern was actually too close for my camera to focus. I had to zoom out a ways just to fit it in the frame, and that still equated to just a head-shot of the bird. The bird seemed to acknowledge my presence, and started walking out into the marsh. Frogs and fish jumped out from in front of its feet, but the bittern had fed enough that day and ignored the potential meal. Then it stopped and stared at me, almost motionless.

There we were, one awesome county bird and one out-of-breath birder. For as much as I’d been dreading picking up an American Bittern for Durham county, I was glad to have such an easy tick in front of me. My glasses finally stopped fogging up, and I was able to glimpse the bird through my binoculars, enjoying the subtle shades of its feathering, the same colors that made it invisible to me not five minutes before. Though it’s not likely, I hope the bird stays around all winter. Eventually I’ll get a chance to head out in the morning when the light is better and fully photograph this wonderful creature. But until then, I’m left with a feeling of relief and county bird #213. And man it feels good!