Lewis and Clark: Two Minnesota Explorers

Two years ago a reported Lewis’s Woodpecker near the Canadian border caused Steve Gardner and I to go on our first major chase together.  We left around 2 AM, traveled 6.5 hours, and arrived in Roosevelt, MN shortly after daybreak where we spied the prized Woodpecker in about 30 seconds.

Lewis's WoodpeckerThis trip, besides giving us a cool lifer, brought us to the edge of the world, which is somewhere near Baudette. We were within spitting distance of Ontario, an experiment in which the spit would shatter upon impact 11 months out of the year. Yes, that Woodpecker got us to explore a corner of the state we probably never, ever would have dreamed of going…ever.  And then we would have missed seeing Willie, Minnesota’s largest walleye.

Baudette

Fast forward to last weekend. A few days prior to that weekend, an incredible report came out of the southeastern corner of the state of a Clark’s Nutcracker.  Steve needed it for his life list; I needed it for my state list.  Last we checked, this was a bird found in the high-elevation forests of the ROCKY MOUNTAINS.  As reports kept barraging our inboxes of this bird being exceptionally reliable and accommodating at its chosen home away from home near Winona, Steve and I once again made the decision to go to the ends of Minnesota to complete the Lewis and Clark bird combo for our state lists. (The blue dot is home.)

Lewis and Clark

Since it was only four hours one way, this chase was easy.  (Oh, how our perception of “far” has changed since that first chase!) The finding was a little tougher this time, though– it took us a whole minute on scene before we got on the bird.  And right on this bird is practically what we were.  I don’t recall a bird more willing to be approached for a crush fest. Nor do I recall a bird with such an out-of-whack head-size to body-size ratio.

Clark's Nutcracker

Clark's Nutcracker IMG_5955

Clark's NutcrackerThis bird did do more than sit on a wire, not much more, but we saw it fly down to the road to forage.  It’s tail pattern in flight is quite a sight.  The homeowner who discovered this bird told us to watch for that pattern when it flew.

Clark's NutcrackerOne can only imagine the thoughts running through this grasshopper’s head in this moment.  Is it just me, or is it on its knees pleading for mercy?

Clark's NutcrackerHunger trumps mercy apparently.

Clark's Nutcracker

Clark's Nutcracker

Clark's Nutcracker

After a half hour with the bird, Steve and I were back on the road.  This time, unlike the trip to the frozen tundra to see Lewis, we were in awe of the beauty of the bluff country of southeastern Minnesota as we drove the scenic Hwy. 61 along the Mississippi.  This route is a must for any serious Minnesota explorer.

One can only imagine what vagrants will show up next and to what other corners of the state they will take us.  Wherever they are, going off on a crazy quest is much easier with a fellow adventurer.

The Golden Hour

While logical people might conclude that birding for ABWCH has slowed down due to school starting back up, the truth is that we’ve still been getting out regularly.  It’s just been, well….pretty dead out there.

Dead Starling

Though not as thought-provoking as the Starling’s situation, one might also wonder why we’ve continued to go out birding despite being busy with school, despite the lack of birds.  The answer is simple and not intriguing: a number.  Considering my profession, I am, ironically, not a numbers person when it comes to birds–I don’t readily have my year totals, know what my 200th or 300th species were, or even know exactly how many birds are on my life list.  However, with all my out-of-state travel this past year I was poised to do something kind of cool, something I don’t know that I’ll get to do again–see 300 species in a single year.  When I saw mid-summer that I was in the 280s I was motivated to chip away at it.  That may not seem like a great deficit to make up, but we were heading into the slow part of the year with not many chances for new birds.  The long-story short is that, by brute force and a bit of luck, I fought my way to 299, where I sat for weeks.

I wanted #300 to be a special bird that I was aching to see again anyway, the Red-headed Woodpecker.  Despite seeing dozens last year, I have had zero luck with them this year. And it hurts.  Bad.  Anyhow, the kids were dragged along with me on yet another fruitless RHWO search last weekend out in Swift County (Mom was at a Twins game).  While we were out, though, MN birding heavy-weight Doug Kieser posted to the listserv that there was a single American Golden-Plover and a single Black-bellied Plover at the Bird Island sewage ponds.  Either would fill the 300 slot (thanks for nothing, RHWO) and finally end that saga, so the kids and I charted a new course to Renville County.  It would, of course, mean watching more movies in the car, staying out past bedtime, and eating a to-go pizza in the van sans napkins, plates, etc.  That’s just how we roll when Mom’s gone.

We got down to Bird Island with precious minutes left.

sunset

Using my better judgment and recalling my run-in with the law at the Pennock sewage ponds last year, I decided to not let my kids watch their movie in the suspicious-looking, parked mini-van while I hiked around the ponds. So they took a little hike with me.  In no time we found a couple big Plovers on the grassy dikes between the rectangular ponds. From what I could tell, both were American Golden-Plovers.  Finally, 300 birds in a year could be crossed off the bucket-list (unless I get the crazy hair my brain to do 400 sometime).

American Golden-Plover

Even though it was not a new bird for the year, it was fun to see a Buff-breasted Sandpiper (in the background) associating with the two American Golden-Plovers.  The kids had more fun checking out snake holes.

American Golden-PloverWith the rapidly diminishing light, photos were getting harder to take and kids were getting colder. So we left the Plovers and snake holes and headed back to the van, occasionally looking behind us:

IMG_5929Time moves way too fast.  But it is that quality of time that causes us to take note of the significance of certain things: 300 birds in a year, a sunset at the end of a day, or a rare, non-posed moment of affection between a brother and a sister.

Evan MarinSo what will the rest of this year hold?  Who knows, but the adventures will continue–with or without napkins, with or without birds, and with or without two kids getting along.

I, Too, Was a Patch Birder Once

September 6th was World Shorebirds Day, and as any local library or video store can attest, I am not always known for my punctuality.  So, I bring forth my shorebird offerings to the blogosphere a day late (or two) and few shorebirds short. Like any birder thinking inside the box, when August rolled around I was zeroed in on shorebirds as they are making their epic, transhemispheric migrations and occasionally stop over for a meal and a rest on their way south.

One always hopes for a classic mudflat on a drawn-down lake or a flooded field when shorebirding.  Sometimes those just can’t be found.  Sometimes one must bird the bottom of the barrel…or the top of a poop pond.  I scoured many a wastewater treatment facilities at small municipalities in the area.  Occasionally I came up with some solids, like this trio of Red-necked Phalaropes.

Red-necked Phalarope

Red-necked Phalaropes at Blomkest WTP

Red-necked Phalarope

Or some Semipalmated Sandpipers, which I pleasantly discovered was a new county bird after-the-fact.

Semipalmated Sandpiper

Semipalmated Sandpipers at Lake Lillian WTP

Once I even got some good looks at a nice year bird, the Semipalmated Plover.

Semipalmated Plover at Bird Island WTP

Semipalmated Plover at Bird Island WTP

Bad dad moment confession: the kids were with me for this one but in the car, opting to watch their video instead of shorebirds; half-way home I remembered this bird is one Evan had never seen and I had killer-no-binos-needed looks.  You might say I flushed that opportunity away. Amiright?

Semipalmated Plover

I was as red-faced as this Stilt Sandpiper, which isn’t much but the appropriate amount since Evan is a take-it-or-leave-it birder these days.

Stilt Sandpiper

Stilt Sandpiper at Bird Island WTP

Growing tired of the Tour-de Ponds, I kinda gave up on birding for awhile as work responsibilities took up more of my time.  Then one day while I was sitting at home I had a recollection that instantly morphed into an epiphany.  Near the end of July I remembered driving home with the family late in the evening after having spent the weekend in Duluth, and I recalled seeing a small, flooded spot in a soybean field not far from home with some sandpipery-looking birds even.  We were too tired to stop, and so this patch was soon forgotten and never thought about for weeks. Until that moment.  Instantly I headed for the door as I realized I had left a habitat-island of prime shorebird mudflats unchecked for all that time.  When I got out there and saw how perfect the spot was in a landscape bereft of optimal habitat, I was kicking myself.

shorebird spotThe flooded drain tile intake that created this spot was only about two acres in size.  When there is no other habitat around, that is all you need.  At first, there was nothing but Killdeer and the odd Lesser Yellowlegs or two, harbingers of good things to come.

Lesser YellowlegsSo this is the story of my accidental patch.  Having it so close to home gave me the opportunity to check it multiple times a day, day after day.  Before I knew it, I was becoming a devoted patch birder whose persistence started to pay dividends in things like a pair of dapper Baird’s Sandpipers.

Baird's Sandpiper

Baird's Sandpiper

Having spent a great deal of time with these birds in good light, I think it’s fair to say that the Baird’s is near the top of my favorite shorebirds list.Baird's Sandpiper

Baird's SandpiperOne of the benefits of a having a patch is that, in addition to looking for new birds that have joined the party, you can also keep tabs on the regulars, like the two Stilt Sandpipers that were there day in and day out.

Stilt Sandpiper

Stilt Sandpiper

It was always exciting when there was someone new in the mix.  This lone Semipalmated Plover was one of my favorites.  Every day I looked for it among the myriad of Killdeer and was always relieved whenever I found it had decided to stick around for just one more day.  I also made good on my previous failing and got Evan this lifer.

Semipalmated Plover

Semipalmated Plover

Semipalmated PloverThis patch I found turned out to be a great workshop on shorebird identification for myself.  I had these birds close (30 feet or less) and in great light when I visited in the morning.  I could clearly see subtle differences in coloration, differences in movements and behaviors, and relative size comparisons to other shorebirds.  Even the ubiquitous Killdeer would sometimes do something interesting.

Killdeer

Often I would put my binoculars and camera down just to see if I could notice these things with the naked eye. Something happened that I never expected to happen–my confidence in identifying shorebirds went way up.  And now I can concur with Nate the Machine that shorebirds really aren’t that hard after all.  I would add that they are actually pretty fun too.  In all, I tallied 11 shorebird species as an accidental patch birder.  The numbers of each species were small and consistent, which made counting the birds a fun, manageable task.

As time and hot weather went on, the water kept receding in the ephemeral patch until there was nothing but some wet mud which was enough to sustain the persistent Killdeer and my Semipalmated Plover buddy but nothing else. Presently the ground is dry, and my patch birding days are over for now.  But not my hopes.  After all, it could still rain cats and dogs and big Plovers this fall, and I’ll be back in business. Stay tuned!

I Scream, You Scream, We All Scream For Herons

The love of all things Heron continues on ABWCH this summer with the second species of crowned Night-Herons being seen in as many weeks.  This time it was the much more expected but no less appreciated Black-crowned Night-Heron taking its turn being so abiding.

Black-crowned Night-Heron

Show me a birder with an impressive life list, and I’ll show you a birder that harbors some degree of pain from certain birds on that list: a heard-only bird, a quick glimpse at another, a juvenile or raggedy individual, or maybe even a dubious addition.  Such items on my list have included a Red-shouldered Hawk eyeball, a Bell’s Vireo butt, and a Sage Flasher.  Yet another, from once-upon-a-time, was a scope-only view of a young BCNH.  It was enough for the lifer/county two-fer tic, but it left me wanting.  This redemptive sighting finally filled that void.

Black-crowned Night-Heron

I remember as a fledgling birder being shocked to learn that this unique Heron with its coiffed plumage could be found in Minnesota.  Perhaps I never bumped into one before I was a birder because of its secretive nature or the hours it keeps. Or perhaps I never saw one because of its proclivities for the water holes and riparian areas of metropolitan backyards.

Minnehaha CreekI have always wanted to see a properly-plumaged adult and seeing as how I just don’t turn them up on the prairie, I took full advantage of Bob Burmaster’s reliable find along Minnehaha Creek in Minneapolis.

And things have never been the same. IMG_5651

Veritas Caput

In 1832, an explorer by the name of Henry Rowe Schoolcraft and his men were guided by  Ozawindib, a Chippewa Indian, to the source of the Mississippi River in northern Minnesota,  a small, pristine lake surrounded by beautiful White and Red Pines. Not liking the Chippewa name Omushkos Sagaeigun or Elk Lake, Schoolcraft took the last four letters of the Latin word, veritas (truth) and the first two letters of the Latin word caput (head) and came up with Itasca as a new name that he felt more adequately described the significance of the lake that served as the true head of the Mississippi.

Lake ItascaThat’s it, right there–the rocks at the bottom right of the photo above mark the terminus of Lake Itasca and the beginning of the mighty Mississippi.  Here massive hordes of humanity, some more clothed than others, take their turn walking, slipping, and selfie-ing across the rocks at the Mississippi Headwaters in Itasca State Park.

Evan Marin ItascaGetting a photo of your significant people making the famous 20-foot trek without other tourists in the frame is about as easy as seeing a Black-backed Woodpecker in the park.  Of course, both become much easier in January…

This time of year is more fun for kids, though.

Evan Marin

Evan and Marin crossing the Mississippi

Evan and Marin were not the only ones in our family being baptized this day as true Minnesotans–Melissa and I were embarrassingly also making our first walk across the headwaters.  Though that, or the impressive virgin forests of towering Pines, should have been enough motivation to finally make it to Itasca, it was another Veritas Caput that served as the impetus to get us there–Mr. Bob Janssen, a.k.a. the godfather of Minnesota birding who literally wrote a book on the subject, was leading a bird walk at Itasca State Park.  Call us groupies, call us super-fans, but we were in.

Evan Bob Janssen

Evan birding with Bob Janssen–Again!

The truth is that due to a rough night in the camper for all of us, we slept in and missed meeting up with Bob’s group to begin the bird walk. Oh well, I thought, I’ve birded with Bob before and this was more or less a beginner’s bird walk. I reasoned that Evan would have the same reaction since birds aren’t that big of a deal to him anymore. I couldn’t have been more wrong. When he woke and found out we missed the walk, he was in tears.  Apparently birds aren’t that big of a deal, but birds with BOB is still a really big deal.  Ugh.

I told Evan we would try to find the group in the 32,000 acre park.  I didn’t tell him that finding an American Three-toed Woodpecker would have been easier.  But I had read the chapter on Itasca State Park in Bob’s Birds of Minnesota State Parks, and I had a pretty good guess of what trail we might find them on.  Even still, we were an hour-and-a-half late.  It was a long shot at best.  Amazingly, and as you can tell from the photo above, we did stumble upon Bob Janssen and his followers.  Whew!

We were just in time to catch the group to find out that the next stop was the Headwaters area at the far north end of the park.  Evan and I had to make a stop at the campsite on the way where we snagged a pretty sweet FOY, the Broad-winged Hawk.

Broad-winged Hawk

We finally met back up with our group at the Headwaters parking lot and began a leisurely walk looking and listening at…nothing.  It was super quiet which was strange since fall migration should have been going on all around us.  Now pay attention to this–if you want to be a better birder, go birding with people better at it than you.  The quiet woods did not daunt the 84-years-young Bob.  You don’t get to that age and that fame without acquiring a few tricks up your sleeve. Bob was listening intently for Chickadees. Wait, what?

As soon as Bob heard a couple Black-capped Chickadees, he pulled out his mp3 player and speaker and played an Eastern Screech-Owl mobbing tape.  The recording is of a Screech giving its tremulo call and being mobbed by about a thousand pissed off Chickadees.  What happened next is that the Chickadees in real life showed up with pitchforks and torches.  That brings in the onlookers, the Warblers and Vireos.  All the sudden we were swarmed with birds that didn’t even seem to exist a minute ago–Blackburnian Warblers, Northern Parulas, a Black-throated Green, Blue-headed Vireos were just a few.

Northern ParulaThough the light was bad and some birds were changing into their fall clothes, the flurry of activity kept it exciting even if it was just over binocular views.  I did manage to photograph a cooperative juvenile Chestnut-sided Warbler.  Just as some people aren’t fond of babies (the human kind), I am not found of juvenile birds. This one I found striking, however.

Chestnut-sided Warbler

We made several stops to play the tape in somewhat open areas, like where a path crossed the Not-so-Mighty Mississippi:

Mississippi River

Fun Fact: The Mississippi flows north for several miles before it turns south.

Though many of us in the group called out sightings of birds, Bob himself had the best sighting even though I lack the photographic evidence to prove it–a beautiful male Golden-winged Warbler.  It’s always a treat to see this bird that, if we did not have the Common Loon, would make a fine choice for a state bird, since Minnesota is responsible for hosting 47% of its breeding population.  Fun Not-So-Fact: Once we hit 51%, MN will control GWWA conservation policies in North AND South America.

Like the Mississippi itself, all good things must come to an end, and we parted company with the group and said goodbye to Bob, vowing to meet up again over a Meeker County Snowy Owl or Kandiyohi County Blue Grosbeak, which has now become our customary goodbye. We declined to go to the book talk, though it would have been a chance for Bob to sign the book to me and not Evan this time. Letting bygones be bygones, it was time for Evan and I to go from birding mode back into just regular camping mode, exceptions being made, of course, for Northwoods chickens that cross the road.

Ruffed Grouse

Ruffed Grouse

The Grouse and the aforementioned Broad-winged Hawk were year birds for me. Normally I wouldn’t care about such a thing, but with all my out-of-state travels I figured 2015 was my best chance of ever breaking 300 in a single year.  I’m very close, but it’s still going to be a stretch. Thanks to Melissa who woke me up at 1 AM and alerted me to a calling Barred Owl, I made another stride toward my goal.

That goal, along with the mouth-watering prospect of seeing another Black-backed Woodpecker, propelled me to go on one last birding hike in the early morning on our last day of camping.  Sadly, I did not encounter any of the shadowy Woodpeckers on Schoolcraft Trail, but I did find another year bird and get my first ever photos of a Brown Creeper.

Brown Creeper

Brown Creeper

Birding with Bob, nabbing four year birds (one a photographic first), and crossing the Headwaters made for a great inaugural trip to Itasca State Park. I am quite remiss, though, that I did not show you pictures of the incredible Red and White Pines of the park.  Come for the river, stay for the Pines, the t-shirts say.  Next time, which I can guarantee you there will be a next time, there shall be pictures of the Pines, and if we are all lucky, there shall be Black-backed Woodpeckers on them!

A Woman Who Cried Heron and started a mad dash to the metro

Occasionally the President comes to town to give a stump speech. Sometimes young heartthrob actors from the latest tween movie make publicity appearances at the Mall of America. More reliably and regrettably, the Yankees make their annual visit to Target Field. Yet none of these is a reason that any self-respecting person would drop everything and head to the Cities.

But this is.

Yellow-crowned Night-Heron

News of this Yellow-crowned Night-Heron was a huge jolt of life to the Minnesota birding scene that was just beginning to emerge from the summer birding doldrums with the onset of migration. Like the bird’s head, the report of the state’s first YCNH since 2012 was bold and shocking. Like its intricately patterned, two-toned back and wings, the announcement was subtle and smartly crafted. With a picture of the Heron above, Laura Segala announced her phenomenal discovery on FB:

Today – First time I’ve ever seen a yellow-crowned night heron in my yard (Plymouth – Hennepin Co). Or ever. #lifer

And why would a YCNH not want to live here?

IMG_5511The two large backyard ponds and connecting channel had many shady, reclusive haunts and corners from the overgrown vegetation along the banks. And there were enough large snails and crayfish around for Herons to have a “Chubby Bunny” contest too.

Yellow-crowned Night-HeronThe announcement came in early enough in the evening that those lucky Twin Cities birders could swarm it immediately.  My trip was too far to get there before dark.  I was there the next day, though. Conveniently I had to go to the Cities that day anyway. Inconveniently, the time of day was wrong and the bird did not come out.  So I made the 1.5 hour trek again the following day, only this time in the evening when the bird had been showing.  It took nearly two hours of waiting, but just as I was about to call it quits, the bird flew in from its treetop roost to begin its foraging.

Yellow-crowned Night-Heron

And for the first time ever, this birder also experienced the rush of seeing a Heron.

Yellow-crowned Night-Heron

Scrawny To Buff In Just One Month

Like so many lottery winners, young professional athletes, and bird bloggers everywhere this past month, ABWCH has fallen on hard times lately after enjoying a ridiculous fortune of good birds and lifers this past spring and early summer.  It’s been downright pathetic–my highly local and infrequent birding in July has sent me on several fruitless chases for petty things like a county Red-necked Grebe.  I even took a picture of an INBU. Sad, I know.  Actually, the break from serious birding and blogging has been delightfully refreshing…sleeping in every day, binge-watching TV shows on Netflix, going camping with the family, selling off baby/little kid stuff and making beaucoup bucks (not really) for a Florida trip someday. Poor men excel at dreaming, and even though I’m enjoying plotting a Disney trip as a Trojan Horse to get to Florida, it was time to put up a solid, meaty post that might even turn a vegan’s head. I was *this close* to putting up a post highlighting an eclectic assortment of blasé sightings from this past month.  Thankfully today’s events spared us all that embarrassment.

I don’t know if it’s the first wave of an attack from Canada or not, but the Buff-breasted Sandpipers showed up en masse all across the state on the same day last week.  I’ve never seen a more coordinated campaign by any migrating species before, let alone by a really good one. Ron Erpelding found a pile of them about a half hour from here in Renville County as well as an equally impressive pile of Upland Sandpipers. For good measure he also turned up a Blue Grosbeak in this area which is NORTH of where I found a bunch last year.  Followers of ABWCH know that this area is already pushing the envelope of the north and east range limits of this species and that I’m keenly tracking the movement since BLGR are now just 3.5 miles away from the home county.

Last week I went and saw the 25 Buff-breasteds and 13 Uplands but got abysmal views of both.  I capped my mediocre outing with a dip on the BLGR. Other birders, though, in their Buff-breasted quests exercised the power of the Patagonia Picnic Table and turned up an additional Blue Grosbeak and a Western Kingbird.

Though I lacked good photos of Buff-breasted Sandpipers, those BLGR gnawed at me more than anything.  I had to go back.  Plus my dad was visiting and had never seen a Blue Grosbeak before. So I got back in the game today and set an alarm. An hour later we were treated to out-of-this-world looks at seven remaining(?) Buff-breasteds.Buff-breasted SandpiperBuff-breasted SandpiperThis ripped bird was a lifer for Dad.

Buff-breasted SandpiperBuff-breasted SandpiperI did not take this photo-op for granted.  These birds are usually only found with the aid of scopes.  Having them 100 feet out the car window is about as good as it gets.

Buff-breasted SandpiperBuff-breasted Sandpiper

Buff-breasted Sandpiper

Dad and I also found a few of the much more conspicuous, albeit backlit UPSAs.

Upland SandpiperDad’s not sure if this is a lifer or not.  No doubt about its existence on his list now though.

Upland SandpiperUpland SandpiperAs delightful as the Sandpiper appetizers were, it was time for the main course: Blue Grosbeaks. We struck out on finding the one closest to the hay field, but not the other one a mile away.  As soon as I rolled down my window I heard that sweet, sweet familiar sound of a singing male.  After a bit of patience I was able to get Dad his life look at this special bird.

Blue GrosbeakEven though this male impressed us with his vocal abilities over and over and over, he did not want to show off his studly rusty wing patch.

Blue GrosbeakDad was getting some good looks at his lifer, but I wanted him to get the full effect and see that wing patch.  Eventually the bird bared it all with pride and great gusto.

Blue Grosbeak

I know it sounds insane, but this Blue Grosbeak sighting was more exciting to me than ABWCH’s unprecedented looks at Buff-breasted Sandpipers.  I am absolutely thrilled with their apparent range and population expansion.  This bird was 2 miles further north than those last summer.  Just 3.5 miles to go.  I cannot wait.

Blue GrosbeakSo where does the birding and blogging go after a morning like this? Nowhere but down again, of course.

The Savage King and Swedish Meatballs Too

So much for a summer of little birding and blogging.  The good birds need to stop.  At least there were some chases on which I put my foot down (and I don’t mean on the accelerator). One was a Yellow-breasted Chat–200 miles was just too far for a possible glimpse at a skulker. The other was a very interesting but bothersome find.  Bruce Fall, the Minnesota state eBird reviewer, discovered a large, “yellow-bellied” Kingbird at Murphy Hanrehan Park Reserve in Savage.  It was clear from the photos obtained by many birders that this was either a Tropical Kingbird or a Couch’s Kingbird and not the more expected Western Kingbird stray.  The first two Kingbirds are practically identical visually speaking, so they can only safely be identified by voice when outside of their normal ranges of Arizona and Texas.  One problem, though. This bird wasn’t talking for anybody.  Either of these Kingbird species is a significant vagrant, but what fun is it to chase a bird that no one knows for sure what it is? I dismissed this one pretty quickly.

Anyhow, I was having a pretty good day birding around the county on the morning of June 30th without even thinking about that CO/TRKI.  My day started by tracking down a county Lark Sparrow that Joel Schmidt had discovered in a gravel pit a couple days prior.  I was stoked.  I hadn’t seen one of these since my lifer two years ago, and now I had one for Kandiyohi County.

Lark Sparrow

Even still, I wanted another bird for my county list that day, so after the LASP I went looking for some Red-necked Grebes that Joel Schmidt also found earlier in June.  I struck out, but a pair of COLOs next to the road was a nice consolation prize.

Common LoonHmmm…I wonder why they didn’t have a chick with them.  It’s best not to think about that.

Common LoonI got back to the house, happy with my morning, and was busy documenting my LASP sighting. Then an email came in that changed the course of my day.  After nearly 15 hours of observing the mystery Kingbird over the course of a week, Bruce Fall clinched the ID after hearing the Kingbird vocalize when a Brown-headed Cowbird got too close for comfort. Tropical Kingbird.  Holy smokes. This is a scarce bird in even the tiny corners of Arizona and Texas that it calls home. I told Melissa I would have to try to squeeze in a fast trip to the Cities to try for this one.  This was a Minnesota first state record of a Tropical Kingbird after all.

Melissa has apparently learned the skills of opportunism from watching me.  Usually I find a way to see good birds on trips or other outings that are non-birding.  This time Melissa was using this bird to get back to Ikea in Bloomington where she had been the day before.  She had her eye on a loft bed for Evan and now saw an opportunity to go get it.  Gee, a rare life bird and Swedish meatballs with lingonberry sauce? Yeah, I suppose we could go.

The four of us got to Murphy-Hanrehan about three hours after the decision was made.  We hiked the 3/4 of a mile to trail marker 36, and the Tropical Kingbird was there right away. It stood out like a giant sore thumb in the dead branches of this tall, lone Cottonwood.  It looked utterly massive in real life.

Tropical Kingbird

From this lone Cottonwood island that towered over the open fields below, this bird was King of his domain.

Tropical Kingbird

Tropical KingbirdThe bird was out there a ways, so I did the best I could for photos.

Tropical KingbirdTropical KingbirdI showed the kids the bird on the camera’s LCD.  With another check mark for his list, Evan was out of there (and Melissa and Marin too).

Evan and MarinI was hoping for better photos, so I stayed for a little while. After ten minutes of observation, something incredible happened that two other birders present and myself witnessed: the Tropical Kingbird stretched out its neck, pulled its wings behind its back, and vocalized! It was a 1-second higher-pitched trill.  I later listened to the sounds of TRKI on the iPod, and it was a match for the first call listed.  I felt bad for all the birders that have watched and watched this bird just waiting for such a moment.  Luck of the draw I guess.  Just like when something even better then happened–the Kingbird flew to a low perch right on the path!  Matt Stratmoen, his 600 mm lense, and I hustled down the path to get near it.  We’d snap some photos, creep closer, snap, creep, snap, etc.  We eventually got within 100 feet or less.

Tropical KingbirdMatt is the one who took that amazing image of the Orr Black-backed Woodpeckers with the mom and dad in profile perched on either side of the nest hole with the baby sticking his head out screaming.  Amazing image.  It’s on MOU’s website.

Tropical KingbirdWe won’t talk about the quality difference between Matt’s photos and mine of the Tropical Kingbird from the same distance.  But I can live with mine.  The views were phenomenal and more than I hoped for.

Tropical Kingbird

Tropical KingbirdThe Kingbird had enough of this low perch and went back to his tall, remote Cottonwood.  I got what I came for and then some, so I hustled back to the van after just a half hour of observation.  After all, Swedish meatballs and a fight loading Ikea furniture in the van were calling my name.

Kip-Kip-Hooray!

Birds are a constant distraction.  Even as I was packing up the car at my parents’ house on June 28th after a weekend Up North, I saw some blackbirds that I suspected were Brewer’s, a bird I just discovered to be in the area, but I wanted to be sure.  I heard a vocalization and went to fetch my iPod from the car to listen.  Before I could even look it up, though, I heard “Kip-kip-kip-kip” coming from the small stand of Red Pines in my parents’ yard.  I knew that sound–I had been studying it in the hopes of finding a life bird some day–Red Crossbills!! I was just about to walk in that direction to find them when the nomadic flock flew in and landed in the Spruce right next to my car!

Many of the birds were juveniles.  Still, this was my first time looking at a crossed beak on anything, so it was pretty cool. I grabbed my camera out of the car and started shooting immediately.

Red Crossbills

Red Crossbill

Red Crossbill

They were such a swarm and so hard to see as it was cloudy and the dozen or so birds moved in and out of Spruce boughs at the top of the tree.  I started scanning the birds with binoculars while hollering to Dad and Evan who were inside the house to come see these birds.  Finally, I found a bird I would focus my camera on, a nice brick-red male.  It was the only one in the flock I observed.Red Crossbill Check out this sequence. Looks tasty…Red CrosbillA little snip and…Red CrosbillVoilà!

Red CrosbillDad and Evan did get out to see the birds. Evan saw the flock and said, “Yep, I see them,” and then went back into the house.  As usual, I wanted good looks and good photographs.  I was planning to keep working until I got some I was happy with, but poof! The nomads took off for their next stop on their life’s journey never to be seen by us again.   Red CrosbillWhat a thrill it was to get this life bird. Each new life bird now is especially fun because they are such good birds at this point proven by the fact that we still haven’t seen some of them after several years of birding.  Red Crossbills in particular are tough birds to get in Minnesota  even though they are year-round residents here. Not only was it a treat to finally see a Red Crossbill, but a three-generation lifer in the YARD is completely unheard of at this stage in the game.  I still can’t believe the serendipity of this encounter. Absolutely awesome, absolutely hands-down the best bird of this trip North. A Red Crossbill lifer and a Black-backed Woodpecker lifer seen within the same week at this time of year–unbelievable.  I thought I was going to have to wait for next winter to take another crack at those two.

The lifer train hasn’t stopped either. Two days later we’d be seeing a bird that is scarce even in its tiny, normal ranges in Arizona and Texas. What a week!

Pokin’ Around the Northwoods

Tamarack BogNorthern Minnesota is home.  Every season offers up something special in terms of wildlife and scenery.  I was able to get out and do some birding in the forests, bogs, and open country on the same recent trip that included the Blackburnian Warbler.  Cool stuff abounds everywhere here. It was good to be home.

Pink Lady Slipper

Pink Lady Slipper (Not MN’s State Flower, the Showy Lady Slipper)

Tamarack bogs like the one pictured above get a lot of attention from birders in the winter because of the Owls and some other boreal specialties.  In the summer, though, they are not visited by birders as much.  It’s too bad because they are quite lush and beautiful and the polar opposite of the forests of the seemingly dead Tamaracks.  I say seemingly because Tamaracks drop their needles after turning a beautiful golden yellow in the fall, leaving dead-looking trunks and branches.

This particular bog was home to the Blackburnian Warbler I showcased in the last post, but there were also some other fun birds in this area.  The Blackburnian was a happy accident; I had actually gone to this spot to look for some Boreal Chickadees that local birder Julie Grahn had told me about.  I found them, and they were literally sharing turf with the Blackburnian.  They were not as cooperative though, refusing to come out of the Spruce tops.

Boreal ChickadeeJudging from my picture, it appears that this was a family group with a couple fledglings!  This Chickadee is so cool.  Most MN birders only see them in the dead of winter when they come out to the remote feeding station on Admiral Road in the Sax-Zim Bog.   I was very pleased to see BOCH in the summer and much closer to home than SZ.

Sharing space with the Boreal Chickadees and Blackburnian Warbler were numerous Nashville Warblers whose song I just learned.  I am now just starting to learn the songs of the more common Warblers that I see during migration. I tend to photograph common birds last too, so on this day I finally got some shots of the Nashville.

Nashville WarblerNashville WarblerAnother fun bird to see even if it couldn’t be seen well was the Lincoln’s Sparrow.

Lincoln's SparrowThe varied habitats in northern MN offer up some unique opportunities for viewing wildlife.  While looking for an American Bittern lifer in a marsh near my parents’ house, I found this gal looking for a place to lay her eggs.

Snapping TurtleIt was not the biggest Snapper I’ve seen.  This one’s shell was the size of a dinner plate. I’ve seen them twice as big before.

Snapping TurtleI didn’t spend a lot of time in the mature, upland woods other than just passing through.  That was enough to nab my FOY Blue-headed Vireo that I missed during migration.

Blue-headed VireoThis bird has never been good to me.  It was once a nemesis and continues to be a photographic nemesis. By the time I figured out its rhythm of jumping to a new perch each time after it sang, the bird disappeared from sight.

IMG_4728

In the area of the Iron Range we call home, there is a substantial amount of open farm country, mostly hay fields and no crops.  Still, the grasslands and horse farms are great for some good non-forest birds, the best of which was a pair of Black-billed Magpies.  Julie Grahn had told me about these, and I’ve been seeing this species more and more every time I go up north.  It’s been stated that the Sax-Zim Bog is the furthest east this species breeds.  Well, this location was even further east yet, so it’s a pretty exciting find!

Black-billed MagpieAlso found in an open area was a bird that I have seen so many times this year and never before in the Northland, the Brown Thrasher.

Brown ThrasherOne bird that favors the open grassy fields that intersperse the Northwoods are the showy, and unique-sounding Bobolinks.  They must be having a good year because I saw so many.

Bobolink

They were also more cooperative than I’ve ever seen them before.  It felt good to finally photograph a BOBO properly.

Bobolink

Bobolink

BobolinkOne bird that I was absolutely surprised to find in the open fields were Brewer’s Blackbirds! I had no idea they were in the area.  Honestly, I often just dismiss most blackbirds I see as Red-winged Blackbirds or Common Grackles.  Needless to say I was pleasantly surprised when I saw the Brewer’s.  Like the Bobolink, it was nice to finally be able to get some decent photos of this bird too.

Brewer's Blackbird

This dad was busy feeding a fledgling.  I was scolded often during this photo shoot.

Brewer's Blackbird

Brewer's Blackbird

Brewer's BlackbirdBrewer's BlackbirdI had some really fun birding on this trip up north.  I was not lifer hunting as there really are so few lifers I can still get.  And none of them are easy. Or so I thought. In the next post I’ll tell you about a three-generation lifer that was delivered right to the doorstep.