Apologies for the overused pun here, but it truly is fitting. And apologies on further delaying reports from the Tommy D trip in order to cover an outing that happened after his departure, but there has been a tern of events. Apologies again.
I really hate &*%$ Terns. I am, of course, still licking the wounds from the Gull-billed saga that you just read about, but newer readers may not know about that other horrible, awful, no-good, rotten Least Tern chase to Luverne two years ago. Not only did we miss the bird by 15 minutes and see Randy get that one minutes before us just like he did with GBTE, but then there was the accompanying camping trip that put Murphy’s Law to the absolute test. That trip was so miserable, I’m not even going to link to the post on it. Look it up if you want to cringe.
Anyhow, this past Friday I was still recovering from the hardcore birding trip Tommy and I had last week. The Gull-billed Tern fiasco actually seemed like a distant memory because of all Tommy and I experienced together (we’ll get to that, I promise). Then as I was contemplating chasing yet another rarity, a Yelow-breasted Chat, something bumped the Chat in the priority queue: a report of an ARCTIC TERN less than two hours from my house in Big Stone County (the bump on MN’s west side). This was a stunning find by Bob Ekblad who had gone to look for some reported Black-necked Stilts, another casual species in Minnesota.
Despite being burned by two rare Terns in the past, I only hesitated for a moment before throwing the kids in the car and making a run out west. It looks like things finally terned out for me. The Arctic Tern was right where it was reported, resting on the beach of a small wetland. Even from this distant photo, you can see just how short the Arctic Tern’s legs are and how gray its breast is.
Arctic Tern is casual in Minnesota with most records showing up in Duluth. I never really expected to add this to my life list because A) I’d have to be in Duluth at the right time and B) I’d have to be standing next to an expert birder who could help me differentiate this species from the Common Tern while it flew in the distance.
So not only was it a thrill to add this unexpected (as in ever) lifer, but there was a driveway to a farm place that put me within 30 feet of the Tern where I could study the field marks for myself up close! Here I could see the stubbier, all red bill compared to the Common Tern’s longer, black-tipped bill. Additionally, I could see the white stripe under the eye and above the gray breast/cheek.
I had thought the Tern was resting on its belly, but I guess its legs are just that short that it only appeared that way. I was hoping to catch the Tern in flight to see the diagnostic dark trailing edge of the primaries. I didn’t get to see it fly, but some other birders did see it fly and captured that field mark in photos. The bird appeared quite lethargic to me, understandable considering the Arctic Tern is famous for its migration from the Antarctic to the Arctic breeding grounds and back each year, a minimum of 24,000 round-trip miles as the crow flies. And we all know Terns don’t fly like Crows. Research with tracking this species has shown that they typically put on 44,000 miles a year. This bird was probably quite wore out and chose the most random of stops to rest.
Keeping the Tern company was an American Avocet which is not that rare of bird this far west in Minnesota. Avocets have almost become something of a trash bird on this blog this year. Who would’ve thought?
Since the Black-necked Stilts are a good bird for MN and since they had been relocated while I was on my way to the Tern, I decided to check up on them too. The Stilts would not even be a state bird, but I won’t pass up a chance to see some easy ones that are nearby. They are still quite revered here and have not attained the trash nickname of ‘Mud Poodles’ as they have in some other states.
Three great birds, two of which were casual species and one of which was a lifer, made for a great day of birding. Terns out I made the right decision to chase when I did. Unfortunately for Randy and Steve, they were not able to relocate either the Arctic Tern or the Black-necked Stilts the next day.
I still hate Terns, just slightly less so than I did before. The urge to swear when talking about them is gone. Also, I hate Chats now too.
On the way out of Salt Lake I ran into Herb Dingman just heading in. He, of course, was disappointed to hear my report but decided to look anyway. I told him to call me if it showed before I got too far away. That call didn’t come…until I was 15 minutes from home. Herb had seen it. I couldn’t turn around; I had obligations at home before my parents came to visit.
This felt great and made up for the double dip. Dad and I continued to check Salt Lake for the Tern who did not keep any kind of regular schedule. We were not successful, but we did enjoy some of the native grassland birds, like Bobolink and Dad’s favorite, Western Meadowlark.
With no luck on the Tern, we decided to try one last time for the Bunting. Nothing. Grasshopper Sparrows are nice, just not LABU nice.
After church, the dreaded news came: the Tern had been re-sighted at Salt Lake. I hemmed and hawed over going back a third time. This bird had burned me bad. Finally I gave in. It is only 1.5 hours away. Dad and I hopped in the car for another chase. This time I was smart about it, though. ABWCH reader, Tod Eggenberger, had been there all day, left to go home, and turned around once he saw the news. He was 30 miles away. I asked Tod to keep me in the loop and let me know if this unpredictable, elusive bird were to give people the slip again. Unfortunately for Tod, he missed it by 5 minutes before the bird vanished again forever. Fortunately for me, I got the news before I reached the halfway point to Salt Lake. I decided I would go that far in case there was positive news. There wasn’t. So I turned around at the predetermined spot and cut my losses. Take that, you stupid Tern!
Notice anything unusual about this PIPL? Naked legs! Almost every Piping Plover from the Great Lakes and Northern Great Plains populations are banded. The Northern Great Plains and Atlantic Coast populations of PIPL are listed as threatened while the Great Lakes population is listed as endangered. This bird that loves undisturbed, large sandy beach areas is in trouble. Getting to see one is a big deal.
I still cannot get over this opportunity. I got my Piping Plover lifer last summer on Wisconsin’s Long Island right near Madeline Island in the Chequamegon Bay area of Lake Superior. I paid a hefty sum of money to charter a boat to get a brief, bobbing, distant look at this special bird. Now I had a lengthy look at one at my feet at home for free. Even better was that other birders were able to come out and enjoy this bird with some even getting their life looks at it. So, thanks, Mar, for taking me to the beach! It just goes to show that any bird can show up anytime, anywhere. Just when you dismiss a park as being mediocre, it totally surprises you.
I called Steve, and he was just about to ditch work when it all the sudden decided to fly away, never to be seen again. I guess I was in the right place at the right time. Steve wasn’t interested in the only other shorebird there, a Stilt Sandpiper.
This was a lifer for me and a state bird for Randy. Technically Evan and I have seen this duck before–we once spotted a pair in a monkey exhibit at the Phoenix Zoo. However, the docent told us they had their wings clipped and of course did not “count”. That sighting was good enough for Evan but not me. I did try for some wild ones last year in Rio Rico, AZ but came up empty. Black-bellied Whistling-Ducks are mostly found in Texas and limited parts of Arizona and Florida but occasionally stray into the Midwest. It was a nice treat to see them right here at home.
While many of the regular migrants have been AWOL or shown up in pathetic numbers, I don’t recall a better spring for figurative and literal odd ducks. While I have gotten some nifty additions to my life list this spring, the misses have numerous and sometimes painful. Nevertheless, I’ll enjoy the gifts I get. What’s next?
I was hoping for lifer Short-billed Dowitchers, but an Avocet is a nice consolation. Evan and I enjoyed watching this bird for 15 minutes while it chowed down.
My addition of Gray-cheeked Thrush to my life list has always been tainted with doubt–mostly because I never obtained a photo to back up my sighting. While the kids admired the local Chickens and while I was Thrush sorting, I was still keeping an eye out for the main thing. It was proving harder than I thought, especially since other birders saw it just a minute before I arrived. Finally I spotted the tie-died wonder, a first year male. It wasn’t the coveted bright red adult male, but a cool lifer nonetheless. My camera had difficulty focusing on its mottled plumage.
I was not anticipating such a great distance to the bird. The distance coupled with heat waves emanating from the soil made photography difficult. The temptation to trespass was real. But those tiny green specks in the soil are brand new corn plants. I did not want to tick off some farmer. I did ask a couple of neighboring residents about who owned the land and was bummed to find out the owner didn’t even live around this spot. So, I did the best I possibly could given the circumstances.
Despite the distance, this was a thrilling bird to see. It is a life bird I always imagined getting as a speck on Lake Superior and being nothing more than a check mark on my life list. I had another fun find while seeing the Loon: Janet Timmerman whose yard I was just in the day before. We shared a laugh over the double chase and enjoyed the Loon together for a bit.
Only one or two WETAs show up in MN every year; lucky us that it was our turn to host. Here my two-hour one-way chase to add this state bird last year was for nought. What a spectacular rarity and a beauty on top of that. This was a bird I yearned to see in the montane forests of Colorado two years ago (and eventually did); now luck dropped one on the doorstep, almost literally for Joel.
Steve Gardner also came out to enjoy the Tanager. As we discussed my travel dilemmas for the next day, Steve advised me to go the Scoter route. Settled. Seeing a vivid, bright male bird made me want to see another. The best part was that I could ask some Duluth friends to check on the Scoter in the morning to even see if that was still a viable option come travel time.
These birds don’t seem to perch for long (or at all). Rather shortly this one took to the air. It was amazing how fast and how much ground it can cover and how unpredictable its flight path is. Amazingly this Owl came back for another, much closer roadside perch:
But enjoying the hunting behavior of this Owl in this habitat is half the fun.
It was really tough to keep track of the numbers of Short-ears we were seeing as they cover so much ground so quickly. I conservatively eBirded 7 of them. It was a lot of fun to witness the Short-eared phenomenon in action. Sandy was spotting all the birds, and I was hoping to get in on the fun and pick one out myself. Eventually it happened.
And then it happened again as I flushed one from the side of the road in my headlights on our way back to Grand Forks. I’m glad I didn’t hit it!
Something even more amazing happened while we tried to lure out this guy–a second Black-back showed up! There was a male and a female! Unfortunately I never did see that classic field mark of the yellow crown on the male, but Tommy and Gordon each got to see it. I will continue to search for these birds until I finally see that and finally get good photos of this species.
Willmar, of course, sent its own small delegation of eager birders to the Great Birder Assembly. Joining me in the pursuit of a shared, epic lifer were Randy Frederickson and Joel Schmidt. The gathering also gave my yearly and life birder lists a boost.
Here’s what all the fuss is about:
Conditions for viewing the IVGU were awful: wave action from Lake Superior had created a thick glaze of ice over every place an observer might stand. Never have I feared a concussion or wished I owned cleats more. It was downright dangerous. Even the Ivory walked with trepidation.
At one point a birder next to me didn’t really know how to proceed off the icy knoll on which we stood. I was getting annoyed with his prolonged hesitation. Then I felt like a complete jerk when the older fellow asked me if I would take his arm and help him down. As I gripped his quivering arm, I realized that this could be me in 30 or so years. It was a reminder of how quickly life moves and why events like this are so important, why we need to experience the phenomenal while we can. Going with friends, like Randy and Joel, make it even better, especially when celebratory beers are had at a place like Bent Paddle Brewhouse.
Here was an immature bird that is Thayer’s/Iceland intergrade. The local Larus Jedi call him Stumpy because of his missing tail.
We did see a couple of adult Thayer’s but no Glaucous Gulls this time. Since I got the full Gull smorgasbord a month ago, besides the Ivory I was most excited about all the American Black Ducks. I counted well over a dozen among the 300 Mallards. They really do stand out and the proximity and sunlight made them especially photogenic on this gorgeous day. This is a duck I just don’t see enough, so this was quite enjoyable.
We lingered around Canal Park for a couple hours hoping to find Joel a Great Black-backed Gull lifer, but it just wasn’t in the cards. What was in the cards was the arrival of the longest ship known to the Great Lakes, the 1014-foot long Paul R. Tregurtha:
An accidental rare species from the Arctic and the largest ship on the Great Lakes coming in to port made for a most exciting outing. We had one more errand that would put this day completely up and over the top–crossing the Blatnik Bridge to Superior, Wisconsin to pick up a 2016 Gyrfalcon! In less than a year’s time I have seen three Gyrfalcons, which still is not enough because like Jello, there’s always room for Gyr. Photos at this distance were practically impossible, but I’m okay with 
The famous Paton House–hard to believe I was actually here.
No, we didn’t come for the common White-winged Doves, though they were dapper and only the second time we’d seen one.
Nor did we come for the WWDO’s cousin, the much less abiding Inca Dove.
It was nice to see a Black-headed Grosbeak even if it was a bit scruffy looking, but that’s still not why we came.
We came for the Hummingbirds. But not for the Broad-billed.
Ain’t it a beaut?
It knows it too. Like Orcas or Dolphins, it pandered to its gawking audience.
So that was that. Tommy DeBardeleben and Gordon Karre had told me about a much rarer Hummer, the Plain-capped Starthroat, that had been seen regularly somewhere in Patagonia. Not knowing exactly where to go for it and not feeling I could make yet another birding stop with the non-birding family, I didn’t even bother to check into it.
Scanning a residential pond in the low light of the evening, I was excited to see the brilliant pop of color of the male Vermilion Flycatcher in my binoculars. They never get old.
We also saw a Jackrabbit of some sort which was a cool experience.
The Arizona fun isn’t over. Next up is the final post and arguably the ugliest and cutest birds you will see.
It turns out that Great Kiskadees are quite crushable, especially when they are chilly and don’t move for over 20 minutes. Either that or the diet of heavy suet and cat food has made this individual lethargic.
What a month it’s been with Arizona birds and Texas birds popping up in the north. I know I owe you some more AZ coverage in the next post, but first we’re going to have to take a look at my last ever triple lifer day in Minnesota. Buckle up, Larus fans.