Bird to Travel to Bird

Where do I begin?!?!

2012-01-21T14:02:00.000-05:00

I mean seriously, where do I begin with these new adventures in Ecuador?

The spectacular mountain landscapes as seen from downtown Quito? The fabulous diversity of birds I saw on my first day, including two species of antpitta, a barbet, numerous mixed flocks, the numerous new hummingbirds, migrants from home? Or how about the Booted Racket-tails coming to the bird feeders at my housing? Or the wonderful, colorful barbets and trogons I see on trails at my new home? How about the antpitta hopping over my colleagues legs at a photo stop? Or the numerous Choco region endemics I've seen, like the Choco Warbler, Moss-backed Tanager, Black Solitaire, Black-chinned Mountain-tanager, Indigo Flowerpiercer, Orange-breasted Fruiteater, and Esmeraldas Antbird, among others? Or the day we left really early to see Andean Cock-of-the-Rocks on their display grounds (a bird on my must-see world list), along with yet ANOTHER species of antpitta, and a new species of wood-quail? Or how about the fact that I blazed past bird number 1.400 for the world, and that my Ecuador life list for birds is probably going to pass all my other country lists, and probably somewhat quickly at that?

I mean, seriously, what do I start with? I even got numerous photos of oh-my-gosh type birds, like a Lyre-tailed Nightjar male, with tail feathers three times as long as its body. As well as photos of birds at hummingbird feeders here at home and elsewhere, with wonderful names like Velvet-purple Coronet, Violet-tailed Sylph, Empress Brilliant, Booted Racket-tail, and White-tailed Hillstar.

Or the wonderful lodge and personnel here at my new home away from home?

I guess we'll take it one thing at a time.

I find myself now among the Andes of South America, in northern Ecuador. I am working as a guide for Mindo Bird Tours, where my primary duty is to be the "resident guide" of the lodge at Las Grallarias. We have numerous trails here at the lodge, for all levels of fitness. We are situated at 2.000 m of elevation, but the reserve ranges from as low as 1.700 m (or so) up to 2.300 m (or so). We are at the edge of the Choco region of northwest Ecuador and southwestern Colombia. Home to numerous endemic species (meaning, species found only in this area, nowhere else in the world). One of the wettest bioregions on earth, yearly rainfall AVERAGES 18 meters. Meaning, a daily average rainfall would be nearly 5 cm. For us, it is not a matter of IF it will rain each day, but WHEN it will rain each day. Daily temperatures peak at about 16 degrees C each day, and drop to maybe 10 C at night.

I have explored most of our numerous trails so far, though a few are still iffy with the wetter-than-normal conditions we have right now. I am learning my common (well, at least most vocal) local species here, which includes some hard to see species. Yellow-breasted Antpitta (Grallaria flavotincta) would be considered a rare bird (it is a Choco region endemic), but here we hear them quite frequently. At our hummingbird feeders by the lodge, our common species are Velvet-purple Coronets (Boissonneaua jardini), Fawn-breasted Brilliants (Heliodoxa rubinoides), Booted Racket-tails (Ocreatus underwoodii), and Violet-tailed Sylphs (Aglaiocercus coelestis). Other less common species come to the feeders, but the Velvet-purple Coronets seem to like to defend a feeder all to themselves. Endless hours of amusement can be had watching the feeders, which is good since we've had some rainier than usual days here that doing a bird walk won't produce much.

My first days here were spent learning the ropes by joining another guide with his guest, and I got to visit many other nearby regions. Day to day highlights:

Day one: 12 January 2012

We left the hotel in Quito fairly early, and headed to the nearby Yanacocha Reserve, which is run by the same group I volunteered for in 2007, Fundacion Jocotoco. It is a private reserve to protect habitat of the Black-breasted Puffleg, one of the most endangered bird species on the planet. Though it hasn't been seen at the reserve in two years, other species find protection in the reserve, since it consists of high altitude (3.300 m above sea level) habitat. On the way to the reserve we saw a Short-eared Owl (Asio flammeus) beside the road, that afforded great photo opportunities. Though common in North America, this is a rare bird find in Ecuador. Our day began on a good note! From there, we entered the reserve, where we got great looks at the following specialty birds of the reserve: Tawny (Grallaria quitensis) and Rufous (G. rufula) Antpittas, Rainbow-bearded Thornbill (Chalcostigma herrani), Sword-billed Hummingbird (Ensifera ensifera), and Golden-breasted Puffleg (Eriocnemis mosquera).

We left the reserve after having lunch, and stopped as opportunities presented themselves to birdwatch during the 3 hour drive to the lodge. Finding various mixed flocks in places, highlights included seeing many of my North American friends (migrants) on their winter grounds, as well as Red-headed Barbet (Eubucco bourcierii), White-capped Dipper (Cinclus leucocephalus), Barred Becard (Pachyramphus versicolor), White-winged Brush-finch (Atlapetes leucopterus), and Black-and-chestnut Eagle (Oroaetus isidori). This latter bird is know as "the Harpy Eagle of the highlands," being the apex bird predator of the mountain regions, while the Harpy Eagle is found at the lower elevations.

Total new species for me: 22 species for the world list, and 29 new species for Ecuador, putting the lists at 1.381 for the world, and 232 for Ecuador.

Day two: 13 January 2012

We spent the day at Las Grallarias. Our guest was a photographer, and since the rain was being persistent that day, we decided to focus on the hummingbird feeders for the morning, from the shelter of a roof, until the rain ceased for a little while. After the rain finally paused, we walked our main loop trail, and enjoyed great looks at Toucan Barbet (Semnornis ramphastinus), and Rusty-winged Barbtail (Premnornis guttuligera). And returned and enjoyed more looks at our wonderful hummingbirds. The weather was very rainy that day, and the trend has been to have very rainy afternoons right now.

I got 10 new species for the world, and 11 new species for Ecuador, putting my totals at 1.391 for the world, and 243 for Ecuador.

Day three: 14 January 2012

An AWESOME bird day! We awoke very early to get to Paz de los Aves in time. For those unfamiliar with this place, a few years ago a local Ecuadorian began feeding worm to antpittas from fixed locations, and eventually "tamed" them enough that they became used to humans (and the weird objects they hold, namely cameras), and a miniature booming bird business was born. Antpittas - the primary focus of this trip - are VERY hard to see well, meaning getting good long looks at. So this is a great opportunity for birders and photographers to get good looks at the birds. To start the morning, however, we headed way down to the trail to an Andean Cock-of-the-Rock (Rupicolo peruvianus) lek, and watched them for an hour. WOW! It was awesome! I knew I would probably see this bird during this trip to Ecuador, but had no idea it would be so soon! The light was poor, so it was difficult to get a good picture. After watching the lek to about 7 AM, we (there were two other groups) headed up slope to begin looking for antpittas.

With the recent rains, many birds have begun their nesting cycle, so we missed 2 of the 3 antpittas. However, we did get good looks at the Ochre-breasted Antpitta (Grallaricula flavirostris) (nickname is "Shakira"), Dark-backed Wood-quail (Odontophorus melanonotus), Olivaceous Piha (Snowornis cryptolophus), Andean Solitaire (Myadestes ralloides), and Bran-colored Flycatcher (Myiophobus fasciatus). We had a Toucan Barbet come to a banana feeder while we were waiting for an antpitta, and most of us got a decent photograph.

After missing the antpittas, we got what may have been the bird of the day for some. After having a light breakfast/lunch, we headed up the hill to some private land, for a bird they have just introduced to the feeding method. After getting all of us situated, we waiting patiently for the bird to show up. After a few minutes, it took those courageous steps into the open, and we all got a fantastic look at an Ocellated Tapaculo (Acropternis orthonyx), a VERY difficult bird to see well (though often responds to playback, but just never seems to come into good view).

Our day was not nearly over! It was only just noon, and we had some birding to do on the way back home! Heading home on a roundabout route, we stopped in one spot where the other guide had repeatedly stopped before, based on a tip from other guides. And, for the first time in 20 tries, he saw the bird we were looking for: a male LYRE-TAILED NIGHTJAR (Uropsalis lyra)! Right beside the road! Very awesome photo opportunities were had by us, and one other small group that stopped to see what in the world we were looking at! This was the bird of the day for me. I think I'm partial to nocturnal birds. Oh, and that was number 1.400 for the world. A VERY cool bird for that landmark!

Further on our drive that day, I saw yet another species of toucan for me, the Plate-billed Mountain-toucan (Andigena laminorostris), another Choco endemic. Yay for me! Especially since I was the one who spotted it first! And later that day, I saw another of my favorite "group" of hummingbirds, the Gorgeted Sunangel (Heliangelus strophianus).

Quality, not quantity, was the order of this day. Eleven new species for the world, and fourteen new ones for Ecuador, bringing the totals to 1.402 for the world, and 257 for Ecuador.

Day four: 15 January 2012

This was the Choco endemic day! We left somewhat early in the morning, heading to Mashpi, where the road has been recently discovered to offer fantastic birdwatching opportunities for the endemics. Lifer after lifer was seen, with great looks at nearly all of them. Tanagers galore in the flocks, like Glistening-green (Chlorochrysa phoenicotis), Swallow (Tersina viridis), Moss-backed (Bangsia edwardsi), and Rufous-throated (Tangara rufigula) Tanagers, as well as Black-chinned Mountain-tanager (Anisognathus notabilis). Also seen was the Yellow-vented Woodpecker (Veniliornis dignus), Orange-breasted (Pipreola jucunda) and Scaled (Ampeliodes tschudii) Fruiteaters, and Orange-fronted Barbet (Capito squamatus). We also found a mini antswarm, which gave us Pale-vented Thrush (Turdus obsoletus) and Esmeraldas Antbird (Myrmeciza nigricauda), as well as a friend from home, a Swainson's Thrush (Catharus ustulatus). We rounded out the trip with a Black-tipped Cotinga (Carpodectes hopkei) as the rain began to fall in earnest, giving us the cue to head home.

I got seventeen new birds for the world that day, and twenty-one new species for Ecuador, bringing my totals to 1.423 for the world, and 278 for Ecuador.

After the 15th, I stayed around Las Grallarias to help with the tasks that needed to be done at the lodge while the other guide took the guest to other parts of the Choco region. I have used the time here to learn my trails, and become familiar with my local bird life for when I begin to lead tours on my own. Some of my life bird highlights here have been the Yellow-breasted Antpitta, Beautiful Jay (Cyanolyca pulchra), Golden-headed Quetzal (Pharomachrus auriceps) and Pacific Tufted-cheek (Pseudocolaptes johnsoni). Since I have been staying in one location, and the rain and fog and mist are making afternoons difficult for bird walks, I have not added many new birds to my list. Though I am learning my local songs and calls very well.

As of today, 21 January 2012, my world life list is up to 1.425, and my Ecuador life list is up to 285. I have seen 66 new species (world) since my arrival.

Most Wanted: FOUND

2012-01-21T11:15:00.000-05:00

I had been keeping my eyes on the Rare Bird Alerts for the Rochester, New
York area, for any birds that I might have the opportunity to see during
my brief trip home during the holidays. I was committed to staying in
Texas until the 20th of December, and I would have some limited free time
in Rochester to go searching for any birds that I could add to my life
list.

Lo and behold, in November, early for the winter birds, two birds
appeared on my radar. Both were hanging out near the Charlotte and
Summerville Piers in Irondequoit, and so I kept tabs on the reports, to
see if the birds were still being seen regularly. And they were.

Finally, on the 22nd of December, I had some free time to do some leisure
birding. Oh boy!

The weather on the 22nd was unseasonable. The temperature was around 45
degrees F (8 Centigrade), and there was very little wind. Though rain had
been off and on the previous few days, none was falling that day. It was
good birding weather, especially for the lakeshore. After running a quick
errand in the morning, I packed my birding gear (binoculars and my
camera!) and headed to the bay.

I first arrived on the "wrong side," meaning the west side of the bay, at
the Charlotte Pier. No matter - there were still birds in the inlet, as
well as on the lake. I grabbed my gear, and walked to the pier from the
parking lot. In the inlet, I could see some Long-tailed Ducks, which I
had not seen in years. That was a nice sight! Among them were some
mallards as well. Since all the reports said that the bird I was looking
for was on the Summerville Pier, or on the apartments nearby, I decided
to glass the area from my side, and see what I could see.

Nothing on the pier, though I didn't have high hopes. I glanced at the
roof of the buildings, and tried to figure out which apartments were the
ones I was supposed to look at. And then I spied something white on one
of them. I brought my binoculars up, and...

There it was! Number 1.356 for the world, and number 444 for North
America: SNOWY OWL! I laughed out loud. It was much easier find the bird
than I expected it would be - but I guess having numerous birders regular
post about the bird on the web meant most of the legwork was done for me.

My day was not done, though. Other bird reports had other species on the
lake that I might find interesting. Though I did not have a telescope
with me, I could hope for some birds to be relatively close to shore that
I could readily identify. I drove to the other side of the bay, parked
near the apartments, and walked to the pier.

The first thing I did, of course, was get better looks at the owl, as
well as take photos. What a magnificent bird! Definitely one that will
stick with me forever. From there, I headed out along the Summerville
Pier, to see what I could see on the lake. The Long-tailed Ducks were
still about, but very shy, so they didn't offer a good photo opportunity.
From the pier near the shoreline, I could tell there were birds on the
water further out, so I walked to the end of the pier. And there, out on
the lake was number 1.357 for the world, and 445 for North America:
RED-NECKED GREBE! Also on my North America most wanted list, but only so
that I could "round up" the last of the grebes for North America. Hooray
for me! From Horned Grebe (Long Island, New York in 1996) to Pied-billed
Grebe (New Mexico, 1997) to Eared Grebe (Colorado, 1997) to Western Grebe
(Colorado, 1997) to Clark's Grebe (again Colorado, again 1997) to Least
Grebe (Texas, 2006) to Red-necked Grebe, I got them all! Of course, I
still have to work on the other worldwide species...

And I STILL wasn't done at the lake! There were numerous birds around,
and I continued to scan the flocks. There were some White-winged Scoters
around (a type of duck), and some distant waterfowl that I couldn't
identify. Nothing very close allowing good photographs. Then I glanced to
the northwest and saw a loose flock of birds flying towards the pier. I
glued my eyes to them, and took notes of the features I could see.
Gull-like, but at the same time, tern-like. Very dainty looking for a
gull, but too heavy for a tern. Faint patches of dark feathers behind the
"ears" on the head. Underwing pattern was very distinct. I had left my
field guide in my car (to keep it dry), so I took note of all the
features I could. I took one last look over the water (there were other
places I planned on birding that day), and went back to my vehicle. After
perusing the guidebook, I determined it was bird number 1.358 for the
world, and number 446 for North America: BONAPARTE'S GULL. One of those
birds that was always like, how do I NOT have that one yet? Well, no
more!!! Not a most wanted bird, but a new bird nonetheless.

This was a great way to begin to wrap up the year 2011. Three new birds
in one day, in North America, is something that does not happen much
anymore. So I was very thrilled. And then, on to more adventures...
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Identifying A Life Bird

2011-12-09T23:25:00.001-05:00

The snow had been flying in the Texas panhandle the day before. About four to five centimeters stuck to the ground. The next day brought some very cold temperatures with a strong north wind. By the afternoon, though, the temperatures had moderated to the mid-twenties, and the winds had calmed down to about five kilometers per hour.

I was doing a raptor behavior survey when I heard a faint "tsip" note from across the road, about twenty to thirty meters away. Without any raptors to observe, I welcomed the distraction of a song bird to watch for a little bit.

Across the road at the barbed wire fence, were two small sparrows. I glimpsed them through my binoculars, and realized they were not my usual sparrow suspects. So I used the scope to get an even better view. They then hopped along the road, and into the nearby roadside weeds and barbed wire, and one of them foraged around the culvert a few meters from me. I was able to get very good, long looks at the birds. And since my initial looks were of a bird that I was not sure of the identification, I studied the birds long and hard to note all the field marks in my head before they moved on.

With sparrows, it is especially important to note as much detail as possible. With all my birdwatching experience, I used all my skills and knowledge of the sparrows I knew to note as much as I could, in as much detail as I could. I also knew what particulars I should make note of: tail length and any white present, head & bill shape, head patterns (crown especially), and what kind of breast pattern, if any.

The overall color of the birds was orangish, more commonly referred to as ochraceous. Not a gray bird, and not brown. More of a dark peachy color. This was true all over the bird. The bill was on the small end of the scale for a sparrow. The face had ochraceous cheeks, not gray or brown. As the bird moved, the wind ruffled the feathers on the head, and a distinct crown stripe was seen, a more intense orangish color than the rest of the head, enough to show a distinctive stripe. On the chin, it had double moustachial stripes, both brownish, not really black. The head shape was slightly flatheaded in my views of the bird.

The belly of the bird was white. While the breast of the bird, and down the sides or flanks, fine streaking was seen on a yellowish-orange background. In the middle of the breast was a slightly larger streak, not quite a spot like in the Song or Fox Sparrows, but a distinctly larger streak.

The tail was short, for a sparrow. And no white was seen on it. The overall bird size was on the small end of the sparrow spectrum.

Eventually, the birds moved out of view. And I noted all the details I could recall. Then, when my survey was done, I consulted my field guide in the truck. And then when I returned to home, I consulted the other field guides we had there. Conveniently, all birds I see now, including migrants, should have their adult plumage; some juvenile sparrows may have streaking, but since it is early December, the juvenile plumage should be gone by now.

There are 49 species of "bunting" sparrows that are commonly seen in the United States and Canada. I already have a strong idea about what bird I have seen, at least to genus, but to be sure, I go through the elimination process. Especially since I suspect it is a bird I haven't seen before, at least recently.

It's not a longspur (4). It's not a towhee (6), Olive Sparrow (1), or seedeater (1). It's not a junco (2), or any of the buntings (3). I can eliminate the genus of Aimophila sparrows, none have streaking (6). I can eliminate the Zonotrichia sparrows, for all are too large for my bird (this genus includes the White-crowned Sparrow, for idea of what a "large" sparrow is).

I eliminate the following: Lark Sparrow (wrong head pattern, size, even juvenile); Sage Sparrow (range, color); Black-throated Sparrow (size, face patterns), Five-striped Sparrow (range, color pattern), Black-chinned Sparrow (range, color); American Tree Sparrow (size, unstreaked breast); Chipping Sparrow (unstreaked breast); Field Sparrow (bill color, unstreaked breast); Brewer's Sparrow (range, unstreaked breast); Swamp Sparrow (unstreaked breast, head colors); and the Fox and Song Sparrows (size alone, streaking too bold on them).

This leaves the Ammodramus genus (7 birds), the Savannah Sparrow, Lincoln's Sparrow, and Vesper Sparrow. Because of the head shape (flat-headed look), I suspect it's the Ammodramus genus, and I check the individual's left that are not in that genus. The Vesper Sparrow has bold white outer tail feathers, so that's out. Lincoln's Sparrow has the right streakiness across the breast, the right body shape. The head looks wrong, though - it has the wrong colors on the side. My bird was yellow-orange throughout the head and body, and the Lincoln's Sparrow has a gray head. So I'll eliminate it, but I will still consider it if I don't have a better match. I was in the right habitat, after all.

Savannah Sparrow. Hmmm...much can be right. Habitat ok, head might be close; there are a lot of variations in the Savannah Sparrow for color. However, all the variations show very strong breast streaking, coarser and more extensive than what my bird had. So, no to Savannah Sparrow. Which leaves the Ammodramus genus, a difficult genus to identify birds from, since rarely are good looks gotten at the birds in the field. It's December, so though the bird may not breed here, or winter here, it may be migrating through. So range may not help.

Range does eliminate the following individuals. Saltmarsh Sparrow (A. caudacutus) and Seaside Sparrow (A. maritimus). Nelson's Sparrow, the interior form, does not have distinctive streaking, so no to that species. Le Conte's Sparrow has a WHITE crown stripe and streaking confined to the sides. That leaves Henslows, Grasshopper, and Baird's Sparrows, with the possibility of returning to Lincoln's Sparrow too.

The distinct band of streaking across the breast eliminated the Grasshopper Sparrow. Henslow's and Baird's Sparrows look similar in the field guide, so I read descriptions. Henslow's has "...with large, pale bill; finely striped across breast. Striped olive-colored head in conjunction with reddish wings help identify it. Also note double moustache stripes and spots behind 'ear'." Baird's, however, is described as "Light breast crossed by narrow band of fine black streaks. head ocher-buff; streaked. Key mark is broad ocher median crown stripe. Double moustache stripes. Flat head."

Um, yeah, so that confirms it, and is what I suspected in the field since the bird didn't look familiar! Also, Baird's is more likely then Henslow's based on migration route. My location is a little east for Bairds, but far west for Henslows, based on locations of breeding and winter ranges.

When I returned home, I consulted the other field guides, and 2 of the 3 helped confirm Baird's Sparrow as being more likely. One of the field guides had a photo of a Baird's Sparrow, which was a dead on ringer for my bird. While the third field guide did nothing to help with the identification at all; it's illustrations just weren't very good for the fine art of sparrow ID.

And that is how I came to get my species number 422 for North America, Baird's Sparrow. I had only seen this bird once before, in Mexico in 1997. This bird was probably still in migration to the Mexican Plateau.

This also illustrates the importance of noting as much detail as possible when watching a bird. Had I tried to consult a field guide while the bird was available for view, I would have lost the opportunity to study the bird as long as I did, and I might have missed that all important ocher crown stripe.

A Lunchtime Friend

2011-12-02T00:13:00.001-05:00

The setting: Nelson Lakes National Park, on the South Island of New
Zealand. Spectacular scenery, with alpine slopes accented by beech trees.
The forest sounds alive with unusual sounds for someone from North
America - not a single bird is familiar. No small mammals are seen
scurrying either - squirrels and chipmunks, and for that matter, any
other mammal, are not native to the country (well, except a couple of
bats). But ever present are sounds of streams and brooks; it has been a
very wet season so far, and the streams are swollen and many of the
trails are mud paths, not dirt paths.

I have been managing to stay very dry. My past experiences in Hawaii and
Ecuador, in 2007, have both given me the knowledge I need on how to gear
and dress properly for these conditions. Proper rain gear has been worth
its weight in gold. So in spite of the perpetual mist and rain, and very
wet trails, I am comfortable.

I came into the National Park from St. Arnaud on the 29th of December.
The plan was to get to the head of the lake and camp, and then cross the
feeder river to the other side of the lake and make my way up the
mountain side to a hut at the edge of the tree line. From there, I would
head up a route (unmarked trail) across the ridge, and make my way across
the anticipated gorgeous alpine scenery to the next hut - situated near a
lake - to spend my New Year's Eve. With whatever company I found up
there.

With many things, the best laid plans often go awry. The rain! Oh, the
rain! And the long break from doing any kind of tramp, meant that the
first day - though I remained dry - took longer than expected to go the 8
kilometers to a hut, where I had planned to stop for lunch. Which turned
into an all afternoon affair, waiting for the rain to perhaps let up.
Which it did, but not until about an hour before sunset. I decided to
improvise, and stayed at the hut instead of going further. I got some
inquiries from the locals on how I managed to stay dry, and we all
swapped stories about the trip in.

I consulted with a ranger familiar with the park about some alternate
plans for my trip. The weather forecast for the high altitude was not
good for the next 24 hours, but after that it was supposed to clear
fantastically, with calm winds even at the high altitudes. After
modifying my plan, the next day I would head to a hut, at the base of a
route across an alpine ridge - a different one from my original plan.

And so we come to one of my best wildlife experiences ever. It's
somewhere in the top 10...

So, I awaken the next day, to beautiful clear skies and fantastic
mountain views. I bid good bye to many of the people I met at the hut,
and venture on to my destination - Hopeless Hut, at the base of an alpine
route, which will take me across the ridge to more fantasticness. But
prior to getting there, I will enjoy a lake side walk, this time in the
sun. Followed by a streamside walk, bridge to cross said stream, more
streamside hiking, and then up a hillside, following a mountain stream up
to the hut. Not overly ambitious, and so I amble - not hike, not tramp,
just amble - along the trail soaking it all in!

I can't hike all day without sustenance, so by mid-day, I start looking
for a good place to plop down and enjoy a lunch. I pack light, high
calorie foods, so though I don't have much to eat (peanut butter and
crackers), I do rather enjoy taking an actual break and resting while I
eat.

I find my spot. As I approach, I notice two robins hopping around in the
understory nearby, and decide how nice, dining companions! I have
encountered this species before in a few places, and I admire their
cheekiness. We had them on the hut's porch the evening before. And I've
seen them on my day hikes in a few areas. Very personable birds. I was
about to find out how much so.

I set down my pack, and open it to get at my food. And the birds come
ever closer. Okaaaay, I think, this is new. And find a nice place to sit
down. I'm in my rain gear, so in spite of the damp (well, let's face it,
sopping wet!) ground, I stay dry. And open my lunch items and settle in,
watching the birds. Who had hopped a little bit away as I settled in.
Then, apparently, curiosity got the best of them.

Hop. Closer one comes.

Hop. And still closer. And then...

Hop! Onto my boot! Onto my knee! Under my legs! Over my legs! behind my
head! over my head! on my boot again! back and forth, all around me! I
hold fairly still, then start to move slowly, to see how they might
respond. And they don't seem to mind. And so, I dine, watching the birds,
as I enjoy my lunch.

And decide, THIS is why all the hiking and travel and improvised plans
are worth it.This happened on December 30, 2010.

a Wyoming mini adventure...

2011-11-27T00:27:00.002-05:00

Our Thursday was a bit busy. We woke up early to do our practice point
count session with the Rocky Mountain Bird Observatory crews. And we had
a tiny bit of snow to deal with. Thankfully, we had 4-WD trucks, so we
collected ourselves - having gotten most of our gear, data sheets, and
GPS set the night before - and headed to Wind Cave National Monument.
After finishing the training, the boss and I packed our things up, and
departed for Wyoming (we were in South Dakota, near Custer) and our first
official point count of the season.

After navigating ourselves to our first point - it was about a 3 hour
drive, with the last hour on a maze of dirt roads through the national
grassland - we did some minor exploring, just touching up on our bird
songs. The days were still short (this is in mid-May), so we got our
tents set up. I set in to read for a little bit, then began making
dinner.

While the boss and I made and ate our dinners, the sun was starting to
set. The mountains were far away yet, so we had rolling grassland and
sagebrush hills as far as the eye can see. This part of Wyoming was
mostly open rangeland, so we did see some fences here and there. But our
transect, and our camp location near the road, were on actual national
grassland land (part of the Forest Service). The wind had more or less
ceased by the time the sun was setting.

Crisp, cool air. Calm. Wide open. We enjoyed the quietude and solitude.
And then we began to hear a faint "pip" "pip" "pip" noise, distant. Kind
of like bubble wrap, being popped one bubble at time. We both looked at
each other, walked a bit to the west to the next rise. Still couldn't see
anything - but we could tell it was fairly distant (maybe up to a
kilometer away). And we were fairly sure of what we were hearing. So, if
we were right, we were bound to see and hear it again in the morning, on
the way to the transect.

It is dark out when we awaken the next day. Sunrise is close to six AM,
and we have a long enough walk to the transect we want to make sure we
give ourselves plenty of time. Wind is always a concern: we cannot do our
surveys if the wind is in excess of 20 mph (35 kph), and that is a common
occurrence on the grassland. We had checked the forecast before we left
South Dakota, but still - better safe than sorry. But both of us were
also anxious to see if the noise we heard the night before was what we
thought it was.

We prepare our breakfasts by headlamp, and get ourselves warmed up. It is
near freezing, and layers is the way to go, since it is bound to be up to
30 degrees F warmer by the time the transect is done. During breakfast,
we are keeping our ears peeled, and yes, we do hear the same noise from
the night before, in the same direction. The sounds are a bit more
emphatic, and more frequent. We are now 99% sure of what we found, but it
will be nice to see it to confirm. Plus, it is not something we would
have expected to find, at this time of year.

Breakfast finished - it is still dark, though sunlight is starting to
crest the horizon. We get ourselves together, making sure we have all the
equipment, data sheets, food, and water we need for the morning. Then we
begin walking west. It is not difficult hiking, mostly just sagebrush and
shortgrass prairie grasses through gentle hills. But we watch out for
sneaky cacti, and thorny shrubs that might snag our clothing. And walk
towards the "pip" noises.

After every new rise, we do a brief binocular scan on the next few hills
and valleys, to look for what we are hearing. After the second or third
rise, I say I've found it.

A couple of hill rises away, near a cattle water tank, are ten Greater
Sage Grouse, on their lek. Nothing on our transect description sheets,
written by the crew the previous year, have anything written down about
hearing or seeing one. We were pleasantly surprised to see it - normally
the leks have finished by early May, but due to a heavy snow year,
apparently the birds needed to continue to display, since the females
still needed to select some mates. While watching the males display, we
do see some females nearby, about five. And the males make all sorts of
ruckus. Small jumps. Wing whooshes. Brief charges. Lots of air sac
"popping" (the pip noises). We can tell the two dominant males - they
never stop displaying, they are towards the middle, and seem to charge
the others a bit. The periphery males sometimes seem to not know what to
do.

We admire them for a while from our location, then continue on to our
transect. The work still needs to be done. And the rest of the avian
community is waking up - Brewer's Sparrows, Lark Bunting, Horned Larks,
and Western Meadowlarks, among others.

Our path to the transect - we are being careful to stay on public land -
brings us quite close to the lek. Surprisingly, we are able to pass
within a couple hundred meters of the birds without them seeming to be
bothered. Either they are very devoted to their task at hand, or, for
once, are not leery of human encroachment. We still hear them when we get
to our starting location, so when we begin, we note the lek on our data
sheets, the number, and the location.

Within the first hour of the transect survey, the grouse have finished -
I could not hear them after my second point, but the boss could, since
her points were closer to the lek. We had an overabundance of birds to
count, but finished our transects with plenty of time to spare.

And thus ends the story of my favorite birding moment - so far, anyway.
This was in May 2010.

Migration

2011-11-02T23:49:00.004-04:00

Scissor-tailed Flycatcher (Tyrannus forficatus). Near Pampa, Texas; 25 September 2011

Migration is a fascinating thing.

Most people only think of birds as the animals that migrate, and only certain species of birds. But in nearly every other major group of animals, there is a species that migrates. Among mammals, there are the mass migrations of the large mammals across the African Savannahs. Some reptiles migrate, such as when sea turtles swim across an ocean to breed on a beach. Some amphibians migrate, such as certain salamanders crawling along the ground to a breeding pool. And certain fish migrate, such as tuna and sharks.

But birds are perhaps the most visible migrants we see, since we can hear their songs, see them in our yards, and some are seen in vast numbers like geese. The traditional migrants people think of are geese, in their long V-shaped lines, and ducks.

Though you see American Robins (Turdus migratorius) year round in some areas, they do migrate! In the United States, the robins you see in winter in New York, Missouri, and other states are not the same you see in the summer! Robins that breed in the far north in Canada and Alaska are perfectly happy in places like New York for the winter; while the birds that breed in New York in the summer fly south and spend the winter in less harsh conditions, such as in Missouri, Texas, or even as far south as Mexico.

Other less commonly known migratory birds are ptarmigans. Being a "grouse-like" bird (chicken like), they are not strong fliers. However, they will migrate short distances, up and down mountain sides corresponding to the seasons, to take advantage of the best food sources.

By far the most abundant groups of migrating birds are those that are inconspicuous to the layperson. As a whole, they are referred to as the "neotropical" or "nearctic" migrants. These are the wood-warblers, the tyrant flycatchers, the thrushes, the vireos, and the new world sparrows, among others. In the fall, well over a billion of these individuals take to the air, and go south. Some go only as far as places in Mexico; most fly to the forests of central America; and a few species will go as far as places in South America.

Think of that - over a billion animals, all with a common purpose: move south.

Now REALLY think about migration for a moment. You can't really "see it", unless you happen to be able to fly an ultralight aircraft and can follow a bird. For most people, they don't even think about migration, until they realize some of their less common backyard birds are gone, or they start to see geese overhead.

I have had the privilege of working a few different jobs where I had the opportunity to "see" migration in a way, including my current one in the Texas panhandle. The way I "see" migration in these cases is by being in the same location, day after day after day, and being outside watching the birds. In southern California in 2008, I conducted feeding observations of birds. I could actually watch how a bird refueled itself for its next flight. Just one of many behaviors I watched (and still watch) that are a part of migration.

Both there in California, and here in Texas, I see migration by the "changing of the species." Over time, the makeup of the bird species I see each day changes, until the birds I saw at the start of the season are no longer present, and new birds have taken their place.

For example, at the start of my time here in Texas, we had a decent variety of birds around. We had Barn Swallows, Cliff Swallows, Scissor-tailed Flycatchers, and both Eastern and Western Kingbirds, among other species. Over the course of a few weeks, we began to see fewer and fewer of these species, and see more and more Horned Larks and both Eastern and Western Meadowlarks, as well as Lark Buntings. Currently, we are slowly increasing our numbers of Field Sparrows, Song Sparrows, and Savannah Sparrows as well. Our most vocal birds, though, are the Sandhill Cranes, which arrived here from the arctic a few weeks ago, and will stay for the winter.

While in Austin this past spring, I also saw the migration occur, in a more limited way. The warblers and vireos trickled through during the months of April and May, bringing some variety to my local bird life. It took a fine ear to make sure that when I was following a chip note, that I was following my breeding species, not a migrant. Learning the chip notes was also a good way for me to find birds when I was leisure birding. And I found my Bay-breasted Warbler this past year that way.

Those small songbirds invest a lot in migration.

These are some powerful birds! A bird such as the Blackpoll Warbler, which is not even 6 inches long, will DOUBLE its weight from around 10 grams (the weight of 4 pennies) to over 20 grams in the fall. Breeding in the boreal forests in the north, it fattens itself up as it slowly makes its way to the east coast, and a little south. Then, when fully fattened, and having the right weather conditions, they take off. Flying a little east and then turning south, they fly non stop from the mid-Atlantic coast (Virginia, Maryland, Delaware, New Jersey area) to South America, a journey of over 2,000 miles over about 80 hours. All under their own power.

Really think about that. No landfall. Three days, three nights. No radar to tell them where a storm is. No GPS to tell them where they are. No landmarks for miles on end. If they aren't fat enough, they die. If they get tired and stop flapping, they die. If they hit a storm front, the journey becomes longer, and they may die.

Fascinating stuff.

Even more incredible? That the hummingbirds migrate too! A bird that weighs about 3 grams - just over the weight of a penny - will fly non-stop over the gulf of Mexico to get to it's winter grounds. That flight takes longer than a day. And once again, no radar to warn of storms, no GPS to tell it where it is, and no food on the journey.

Also incredible about this? In the fall, nearly 75% of the birds flying south have NEVER done that before. These are the birds that hatched that year. And they don't get taught, they don't get apprenticed. Pure instincts drive them south.

And to top all that - they do it again, in reverse, in the spring. And since most of these birds will live from 4-8 years (longer in larger species), they do it again. And again. And again.

Wow.

Makes you look at your backyard birds a little differently, huh?

Most Wanted Part II: North America

2011-10-05T00:10:00.009-04:00

Green Jay (Cyanocorax yncas) at Bentsen-Rio Grande Valley State Park; 18 May 2006. US bird #355; Ecuador bird #99; world bird #535. By that last number, you can tell I hadn't traveled outside the US much. That changed the following year.

To continue on the theme from before, I have my "most wanted" for North America as well.

For North America, there are about 750 regular occurring species. A good number of these only occur in the far corners of the country. These are known as "specialty birds" of a particular area, like Alaska, the Everglades, or southern Texas. My most wanted birds fall into one of four broad categories. They may be a "specialty bird" that I will have to go to a particular location or habitat to find (such as the Everglades). They perhaps are a bird that will help me "round out" my list of a particular group of birds (like seeing all the falcons). Or they are a bird that is just one that I would really like to see. Or they are a nemesis bird (see a previous post).

These most wanted, in no particular order, are as follows.

Snowy Owl (Bubo scandiacus). I talked about this bird in my previous post. This bird falls under the category of just wanting to see one. One of these winters, there should be an easily seen one near my home town in western New York. One of these winters...

In the last post, I also talked about the ptarmigans as well, Rock Ptarmigan (Lagopus muta); Willow Ptarmigan (Lagopus lagopus); and the White-tailed Ptarmigan (Lagopus leucura). I expect to be in the Rocky Mountains again soon, so I aim to look for the White-tailed Ptarmigan in my travels there. Again, a bird that falls into the just wanting to see one.

Gyrfalcon (Falco rusticolis). I talked about this species before as well. This falls in the category of rounding out a group, in this case, the falcons. Of the Snowy Owl, ptarmigan, and Gyrfalcon, the Gyrfalcon is perhaps the most difficult, until I get a chance to go to Alaska.

The American Swallow-tailed Kite (Elanoides forficatus) is somewhat of a specialty bird of south Florida. This bird shouldn't actually be all that difficult to see in the United States. It is somewhat common in Florida actually; though you have to be there in the breeding season. The reason I would like to see it is because I have it in four other countries already! Costa Rica, Panama, Ecuador, and Peru. It's one of those "you know, it is found in the US too, I should make sure I see it there as well now!" birds. I normally am working a summer field job when the bird is usually found in the US, so I may have to make a special trip sometime to a migration watch in Florida or south Texas to tick it off my list.

Also in Florida, an Everglades specialist, is the Limpkin (Aramus guarauna). So named for its "limping" style of walking. It is found in the Florida Everglades, and outside the US in the Caribbean and Central and South America. In other words, it's a tropical bird whose range just barely reaches that wonderful habitat in Florida. And to me, it represents the goal of making sure I get to the Everglades to make sure I see that wonderful habitat and all it has to offer.

Falling under the category of nemesis birds, are the Black-billed Cuckoo (Coccyzus erythrothalmus) and the Barn Owl (Tyto alba). Found within a wide range of the US, I'm bound to see these sooner or later (preferably sooner).

Partly falling in the nemesis category are the longspurs: Lapland Longspur (Calcarius lapponicus), Chestnut-collared Longspur (Calcarius ornatus), McCown's Longspur (Calcarius mccownii), and Smith's Longspur (Calcarius pictus). Not quite to the full nemesis category yet, I did chase the Chestnut-collared Longspur last year in Wyoming. I have a good chance of seeing up to three of the longspur species on my current field job here in Texas, as they come down to overwinter in the grasslands here.

A couple of other birds that have some wide ranges, but I have not seen yet, are the Red-necked Grebe (Podiceps grisegena) and American Bittern (Botaurus lentiginosus). Both of these birds will also "wrap up" their respective groups. In the case of the former, it is the grebes, which is a group of duck-like birds found worldwide. In North America, we have 7 species. The bittern is the last of the "large waders" group of birds, which includes the herons and egrets. Both are relatively common, but the bittern is an elusive bird, that requires being in the right habitat and "stalking" the booming sound it makes to see the bird.

Back to some specialty birds, I would like to see either or both the Lesser (Tympanuchus pallidicinctus) and Greater (Tympanuchus cupido) Prairie Chickens. I've seen many of the grouse species of birds in the US, but these two have eluded me so far. I would like to see one (or both) of them on their "booming" grounds, where the birds make lots of fun noise and displays to impress the ladies. Outside of the breeding season, they are most difficult to see. Both species are considered highly vulnerable, mostly due to habitat loss and degradation. I am actually currently near the habitat of the Greater Prairie Chicken at the moment; I may have a chance to try to see one before my work here is done.

Smew (Mergellus albellus). Seriously, that is the birds name. It's a pretty nifty looking duck, found in Alaska. And, you know, the funny name. And seeing one would "round up" my merganser ducks for North America. Plus, you know, the funny name. And it's a fine looking bird in its own right. And the funny name. And it means I finally got up to Alaska. Oh, and did I mention the funny name?

One of the clowns of the North American bird world, the Atlantic Puffin (Fratercula arctica). I'm up to about 5 trips to Maine so far. And not a puffin has been seen. And I was SO close last time, just on the wrong side of an island. Just a "gaudy" looking bird (hence the clown nickname), and I need an excuse to go to the northeast again.

That about rounds them out. I had some past most wanted birds, and all were found on nearly one trip, to south Texas. South Texas has habitat that just makes it into the United States from Mexico, and as such has the birds that are common south of the border. Since the habitat comes across the border, the birds make it across the border. During that trip I saw over 30 species of new birds in just a couple of days. This was unusual for me to do in the United States, even at that point. Among the birds seen were the Green Jay (Cyanocorax yncas), pictured at the start of this post. Among the birds I saw that I had really wanted to see were the following:
Harris' Hawk (Parabuteo unicinctus). I was not fully expecting to see this bird, but I had hoped to. There are many bird species that I have seen outside the United States first, during a trip to Mexico in 1997. I eventually hope to get all these birds in the United States. I first saw Harris' Hawk in San Pedro, Mexico, on 6 January 1998, which makes it world bird #104. I got my North American bird on 20 May 2006, at Santa Ana National Wildlife Refuge, Texas, where this picture was taken. This made it North America bird #385.
Plain Chachalaca (Ortalis vetula). The alarm clock of south Texas. Their name comes from their loud "cha cha la ca" calls made. This was on my "to see" list for that trip, and I was not disappointed. I saw it for the first time 19 May 2006, at Bentsen-Rio Grande Valley State Park, Texas. It is North American bird #362; world bird #543. I later saw this bird in Costa Rica as well, on 25 May 2008, in Santa Rosa National Park. It is Costa Rica bird #150.

Ringed Kingfisher (Megaceryle torquatus). Again a specialty of the Rio Grande valley. In most of North America, you can only find the Belted Kingfisher (Megaceryle alcyon). I had hopes to see both of the other kingfishers during the trip, and I did. I saw this species at Bentsen-Rio Grande Valley State Park, Texas on 19 May 2006. It is North America bird #367; world bird #548. This picture was taken at Bosque del Rio Tigre Lodge in Costa Rica. In Costa Rica, it is bird #227. With my extensive travels in the Americas, I have also seen this bird in Peru as well, where it is #52 for that country.
Least Grebe (Tachybaptus dominicus). It is not often I get to take a picture of the ACTUAL LIFE BIRD, but I managed to do so with this one! I saw this one, along with the next bird, only a few minutes apart, on 19 May 2006. I saw this bird and took its picture at the Edinburgh Wetlands, Texas. It is North American bird #368, world bird #549. Once again, during my travels in the Americas, I managed to see this bird at Bosque del Rio Tigre Lodge, where it became Costa Rica bird #366 on 27 December, 2008.The other kingfisher, the Green Kingfisher (Chloroceryle americana). Only a few minutes after the Least Grebe, on 19 May 2006 at the Edinburgh Wetlands, Texas. It is North America bird #369, world bird #550. I have also seen the bird in Costa Rica, where this picture was taken by "digiscoping", using my camera with a telescope. In Costa Rica, it is bird #92, seen for the first time there on 7 March 2008 at Parque Carara.

Most Wanted Part I: The World

2011-09-23T22:29:00.007-04:00

Hoiho [Yellow-eyed Penguin] (Megadyptes antipodes); 17 January 2010; Otago Peninsula, New Zealand. World bird #1.226

We all have things we would like to see in the world. For a world bird watcher like me, there are particular birds, or types of birds, I would like to see in the world. I do aim to see as many species as is reasonable in my life, but there are particular birds that have a bit of a draw for me. In no particular order, they follow.

Any ratite. For those unfamiliar, ratites are a collective group of the most well known flightless birds. Scattered across the world, I'd like to see all of them, but I would be happy with any. There is some debate to their evolution, part of which stems from their locations in the world: New Zealand, Australia (and part of the pacific islands nearby), Africa, and South America. None in Europe, Asia, or North America. The birds include the Ostrich (Struthio camelus); the Emu (Dromaius novaehollandiae); the kiwis (Apteryx species), and the rheas (Rhea species), among others. The best opportunities I have had to see one were kiwis in 2010, when I was able to hear them calling (but never saw them), and the Emu when I was guiding in Australia at the Lotus Bird Lodge. Alas, the only Emu seen was the day I left! Of these, I would most like to see a kiwi. If only for the excuse to go to New Zealand again!

A closely related group of birds to the ratites are the tinamous of the New World. Similar to the ratites in various ways, they actually can fly, though rarely do. I describe the flight as a "hairy cannonball," and it is as grace(less) as you can picture that to be. Very secretive birds, I have actually had the opportunity to see 3 species.
Little Tinamou (Crypturellus soui) at Bosque del Rio Tigre Lodge, Costa Rica. World bird number 969, or thereabouts (it was a busy bird day!)

Any of the following three birds: Harpy Eagle (Harpia harpyja); Philippine Eagle [Monkey-eating Eagle] (Pithecophaga jefferyi); or Crowned Eagle [Crowned Hawk-eagle] (Stephanoaetus coronatus). Found in Central and South America, the Philippines, and Africa, respectively, these are all massive birds of prey. The Harpy Eagle is usually considered the strongest bird of prey in the world, though not the largest. It can rip a sloth - which weighs nearly as much as the bird itself - off a branch and not break stride, er, wing flap. Each of these represents the "apex bird" of their respective habitat. Also, as a result, will tend to be rare and at low densities.

The Secretary Bird (Sagittarius serpentarius) is an unusual bird of prey. Instead of soaring and dropping to the gr0und to capture food, it walks and runs on the ground to capture food. It's just one of those enigmatic birds that a birdwatcher just has to see. And watch, to wonder at the way nature makes birds do unusual habits.

The Hoatzin (Opisthocomus hoazin). An unusual bird of the Amazon in South America. As a youngster, the nestlings have little claws on their wings, which allow them to crawl among the branches in their habitat to escape predators. Somewhat unusual among birds, their diet is mostly vegetation, specifically leaves. They even have bacteria in their crop to ferment the food, much like ruminants such as cows do in their stomachs.

Snowy Owl (Bubo scandiacus). Found world wide in the arctic, occasionally the species makes what are known as irruptions. For whatever reason (usually a collapse of the lemming population), every few years an abundance of these birds will venture much farther south than usual, and can be found as far as New York, Pennsylvania, and the mid-west, instead of much farther north in Canada. I remember falling in love with this bird in grade school. Perhaps even then I knew I had birds on the brain. Of the birds on this list, this is most likely the first one to be seen.

Any ptarmigan species: Rock Ptarmigan (Lagopus muta); Willow Ptarmigan (Lagopus lagopus); or White-tailed Ptarmigan (Lagopus leucura). The most likely one of these I will see is the White-tailed, since it is found only in the US (the others are found in northern North America and Eurasia), and I am most likely to visit its location (Rocky Mountains). Something unique about these birds is they grow their own snowshoes! And their own camouflage! In the summer, the birds will be mottled brown, black, and gray, to blend in with their rocky surroundings. As summer turns to fall and winter and the snow flies, they grow white feathers to blend in with their surroundings, and little side spurs on their feet, for traction on snow (and to prevent themselves from falling through snow).

Gyrfalcon (Falco rusticolus). The largest falcon. And the only one I have left to see in North America (that is a regular occurring bird, anyway). It can take out a Canada goose (Branta canadensis). I gotta see a bird that can manage that!

Lammergeier, or Bearded Vulture (Gypaetus barbatus). Why? Well, more to watch it "hunt." It feeds nearly exclusively on bone marrow. It gets at the bone marrow by finding bones, picking them up, and dropping them from extraordinary heights to break them apart to get at the marrow. It does not have strong enough talons or bill to open it with those "normal" bird utensils.

Some birds that used to be on my most wanted:

Any of the "great" albatrosses (genus Diomedea), which have the longest wingspans in the world. The Wandering Albatross (Diomedea exulans) has the largest wingpan, up to 3.5 m wide. I saw my first Diomedea species, the Northern Royal Albatross (Diomedea sanfordi) on the same trip, and the same day, as the Hoiho above. In spite of this - I still want to see a Wandering Albatross.
Northern Royal Albatross (Diomedea sanfordi); Otago Peninsula, New Zealand. World bird #1.225

And of course, any penguin species was on my list. When I went to New Zealand, one of the reasons I headed as far south as I could (to Stewart Island, and the south end of the south island), was for the chance to see a penguin. And I wasn't disappointed! The Hoiho above wasn't even the FIRST species I saw, but it did offer the best looks. The first one I saw was making chirping noises in the water, and it took a while for me to see. Eventually, from talking to locals and knowing where to go, I got a good look at the smallest penguin in the world, the Little Blue Penguin (Eudyptula minor).

Little Blue Penguin (Eudyptula minor). Stewart Island, New Zealand. World bird #1.218

Other birds included the I'iwi of Hawai'i (that's the all red bird with the crazy curved bill); toucans (I've seen 12 species now!); any antbird (beyond numerous to count now); and any macaw (Scarlet Macaw [Ara macao], in Costa Rica).

Stay tuned for my Most Wanted Part II: North America list.

Nemesis Birds

2011-09-17T23:08:00.011-04:00

Yellow-throated Vireo (Vireo flavifrons); Bluff Springs Conservation Area, Missouri; May 17, 2011. It is just right of the trunk on the branch. Bird number 987 (about) for the world; number 411 for North America)

As many of you know, I chase birds all over the place. I keep a country list for places I visit, I keep a North America list (for birds seen in the United States and Canada), I keep trip lists, and to some degree I have kept year lists. In all these, there are birds that become "nemesis birds."

A nemesis bird is a bird I have looked for and failed to see, generally multiple times. It will generally be a common bird in an area. So a bird like a Harpy Eagle or Whooping Crane couldn't be a nemesis bird, since they are overall somewhat rare. In other words, it is not reasonable to expect to see a bird like those two when you go out bird watching. A nemesis bird is a bird that within reason, I should see. Without much of a problem. A good way to know a nemesis bird is one that when I tell other bird listers I don't have a bird, they say "Really? But it's so common and easy to see?!?!"

For me, I have past and current nemesis birds. The bird you see above is an example of a past nemesis bird. The Yellow-throated Vireo has fairly expansive range in North America. It is found west to the Mississippi River; north to southern Ontario, Cananda; east to the eastern seaboard; and south to the Gulf of Mexico. In other words, it can be reasonable to expect to see this bird in the appropriate habitat in it's range during the breeding season.

However, in the few seasons I spent working in the birds range, I never saw it, and rarely was able to pinpoint its song that I could spend time to look for it. I did chance upon seeing one in Costa Rica in Santa Elena, so I had it on my world checklist. But for my North American checklist it remained elusive. I saw one in the hand when we captured one on a migration station in Maine in 2009, but I do not count birds in the hand (my list, my rules). In 2009, I was working in Missouri, and I actually spent significant time paying attention to the bird songs in my work plot, as well as outside it, listening for the song that I could reliable identify as the Yellow-throated Vireo, so could chase it down. But no luck.

So, as such, it became a nemesis bird. I had been in the habitat the bird was found multiple times, I had actively looked for the bird, but I had never seen the bird. So I was constantly frustrated in my attempts. Until 2011, in Missouri.

And like all nemesis birds, when I see it, I wasn't even trying to find it! I was watching another bird species, observing its behavior to determine its breeding status. Lo and behold, in the tree nearby, was a calling bird, that turned out to be a Yellow-throated Vireo. And not only that, it was a pair of them foraging for food. And on top of that, later in the day, I found another pair elsewhere! So, not only did it cease to be a nemesis bird, I was seeing it frequently enough to make me feel like the bird had been mocking me! So, knock one more bird off the list.

Some of my past nemesis birds follow. You may notice a trend with these nemesis birds - they will all be recent. That is part of how they were nemesis birds - it took me a while to see them!

Canvasback (Aythya valisineria). It's a type of duck. And with all the flocks and rafts of ducks I watched, I never found one, though I found it's close relative (and nearly identical twin) Redhead (Aythya americana) fairly often instead. I saw my first one for the world (#1,350) and North America (#436) on February 5, 2011 in Missouri.

Black-throated Blue Warbler (Setophaga caerulescens). I consider it a nemesis bird because I saw vast quantity of them all at once - but in the hand. This was at the Braddock Bay Bird Observatory fall migration banding station. So, with a bird that common, I figured it was easy to see. WRONG. It took another 6 years (and many jobs later) for me to get my first one, again on a banding station. But this time, flying free as can be. My life bird #1,131 (world) and #425 (North America) was on Metinic Island, Maine, on September 25, 2009.

Common Loon (Gavia immer). [Great Diver in Europe]. One of those birds that other bird watchers, until I saw it, were like What? Really? Just one of those birds that I was never in the right place at the right time. I saw my first individuals near Manchester, Tennessee, on December 11, 2007. It was bird number 393 for North America, and bird number 784 of the world.

Internationally, I didn't really have any, though there were a few birds in both Costa Rica and Peru that took me a little while to find. I spent about 9 months total in Costa Rica, and nearly 4 continuous months in Peru. So with Costa Rica, nemesis birds were birds I actually made a concerted effort to find when I knew I could; in Peru, it became "mocking" birds that I heard frequently or knew were common, but didn't find after a while.

In Costa Rica, the nemesis birds included Crested Bobwhite (Colinus cristatus) [#914 world; June 12, 2008; Santa Rosa National Park], Tropical Gnatcatcher (Polioptila plumbea) [#950 world; August 26, 2008; La Fortuna]; and Laughing Falcon (Herpetotheres cachinnans) [#1012; December 9, 2008; Bosque del Rio Tigre Lodge]. This last one was a particular nemesis for a little while. I would hear it frequently in Santa Rosa National Park (May to September, 2008), but never saw it. I heard it a few times at Bosque del Rio Tigre Lodge before I finally found it. And then, of course, I really found it, up close and personal. And frequently had no problem finding it to show to guests, too.
Laughing Falcon (Herpetotheres cachinnans). The actual life bird (one of a pair) seen at Bosque del Rio Tigre Lodge on the Osa Peninsula.

In Peru, the only true nemesis bird I saw was the Gray-cheeked Thrush (Catharus minimus). Somewhat ironically, this is a migrant from North America (breeds in the boreal forests of Canada and northern New England). It became a nemesis because we caught it with some frequency in our nets. Eventually, when I was walking in the forest, I finally saw one flying around on it its own. Bird #1342 for the world; November 28, 2011.

So, what are my current nemesis birds? In no particular order, a few come to mind.

The Black-billed Cuckoo (Coccyzus erythropthalmus) has become one now. I have frequently been in the birds range and habitat now (hardwoods east of the Rocky Mountains). As often as I have seen its close relative the Yellow-billed Cuckoo (Coccyzus americanus), never once have I found one of these that was the "other" cuckoo. As far as I know, I have not heard its call. So, for now, I have to keep searching.

To some degree, the Chestnut-collared Longspur (Calcarius ornatus) has become a North American nemesis, but only as a result of last year in Wyoming. I was not only in the birds breeding and migration route when I was working, we were very much expecting it to occur on our point counts! I have seen this bird in Mexico, so for the world list I am okay. But why I never saw it last year, is hard to fully know (the strange seasonal weather may have had something to do with it).

Barn Owl (Tyto alba) is definitely on the list. For an owl, it can be easy or hard to see. It really is a bird of the right place, right time. But the funny thing is, I have seen it in THREE other countries already! First in Costa Rica, second in Australia, and most recently in Peru. Eventually I shall find one I can stake out and find here.

Philadelphia Vireo (Vireo philidelphicus) falls under the Yellow-throated Vireo type category. I've been in the habitat. Heard the song most likely. Looked for it in flocks. Looked for it in migration. But no luck so far (they all turn out to be Tennessee Warblers [Oreothlypis peregrina], which is a similar looking species).

Sage Sparrow (Amphispiza belli). With all the time I have spent in sage brush, and the right locations (Colorado in 1997, California in 2002-03 and 2005-06; Wyoming in 2010), how have I NOT seen this bird? It is beyond me. A true nemesis. It will get an extra special dance when I finally see it!

Internationally, the only one that might be considered one is the Brown Nunlet (Nonnula brunnea). However, these birds are of a group (the family Bucconidae) that are often heard but not seen, if they are heard at all. But we captured many of these in Peru, so I am slightly surprised I never saw any in my wanderings in the forest in four months.

We all have things that make us keep going back. These are mine. I'll eventually get 'em!

The Importance of a Species

2011-04-06T21:21:00.002-04:00

Once again, I find myself working in central Texas. For the third time in my journeys, I am working on a project involving the federally endangered Golden-cheeked Warbler (Dendroica chrysoparia). Why is it endangered? Various threats exist, but number one is habitat fragmentation and destruction.

I have had the privilege of working with various endangered species, each facing threats from different directions.

Golden-cheeked Warbler (Dendroica chrysoparia) in Texas. This bird overwinters in Central America, from Mexico south to Nicaragua. It only breeds on the Edwards Plateau in Texas, in what is known as the Texas Hill Country. Which is pretty much central Texas. It numbers about 5.000 pairs in the world, all wild.

Puaiohi (Myadesters palmeri) in Hawaii, on the island of Kauai. A year round resident on the island of Kauai. It numbers from between 200 to 300 individuals in the wild, with an additional 50-60 birds in captivity. Threatened by habitat loss and avian malaria, both tied to global climate change, in addition to non-native predators (cats and rats).

Jocotoco Antpitta (Grallaria ridgelyi) in Ecuador. A year round resident of the cloud forest in southern Ecuador. It numbers from between 40 and 120 individuals in the world, all wild. It's primary threat is habitat destruction.

Red-cockaded Woodpecker (Picoides borealis) in Mississippi. A year round resident of pine forests in the southeastern United States, found from eastern Texas east to Georgia, south to Florida, and north to North Carolina. Even with this wide range, the habitat is severely fragmented and disjunct. It faces many threats, all tied to habitat loss and fragmentation.

But why protect and save a species?

Though most of the people I am around the majority of the time have the same attitude as I do about conservation, I still hear that question a lot. Why does it matter if we lose a species?

For myself, as a start, we (as a human race) do not have the RIGHT to directly or indirectly cause an animal to go extinct. We need to regard ourselves as part of the environment, not rulers or controllers of it. Starting with that mindset, being a part of the earth, will allow us – all of us – to lead generally healthier, better lives.

An individual species is part of a greater whole. Extinctions WILL occur naturally. One can look at the fossil record and realize there are many species, some quite different than anything now, that spent many millions of years on this earth, but are no longer. We are all familiar with the dinosaurs. But there were also giant armadillos the size of tanks, sea creatures called trilobites, old species of sharks and other fish that dwarf what is now found in the oceans. All these species existed for MILLIONS of years before they disappeared. In our current “form”, we have been on this earth for less than forty thousand years.

That being said, when various species disappeared, other species were taking their place at the time. The extinct species just couldn't cut it anymore. Perhaps it ended up being vulnerable to another particular species, or disease. Or it's habitat disappeared through natural process (such as a lake drying up).

So, why should we protect species if extinction is normal?

If we view a species as the proverbial canary in the coal mine – if a species goes extinct from direct or indirect human causes, it means we, as the human race, altered the environment in such a way that the species could no longer exist. And perhaps that environment will no longer be supportive of us, either. The alteration of the environment through habitat destruction is the primary cause of extinction. However, we have also caused extinctions through the introduction of non native species to a habitat (Brown Tree Snake in Guam, various animals to Hawaii), outright hunting (Passenger Pigeon, Great Auk, Dodo), and perhaps market collecting (Spix's Macaw, extinct in the wild).

What does it mean for us?

If habitat destruction continues, and we continue to lose species, the earth becomes a poorer place. Even with the advances of technology, cloning is not a viable option for re-establishing an extinct species. With the Golden-cheeked Warbler, habitat destruction means that the area has become so overrun with people and new housing and commercial development, that the juniper-oak woodland the bird requires for existence no longer exists. And the “open space” people crave in an area will be gone, and so they may no longer care to live in that area. But even if they move away again – the species will never be able to come back.

It goes further than that though. That is mostly an aesthetic reason. There are many more reasons to protect a species.

Everything on Earth is in balance in some way. Take one thing out of an environment, and one may not see effects right away, but they will be felt throughout the environment. A good modern example – for good or bad, depending on ones viewpoint – is when wolves were reestablished in Yellowstone National Park. Their introduction affected so many things in the environment, it was hard to believe that some of the results seen (like better fishing!) were the result of the wolf introduction.

Another example that may happen while we are trying hard to prevent it, is the extinction of some of our North American bat species from White Nose Syndrome. A fungal infection that affects hibernating bats, it may cause various bat species to go extinct. Why is that a big deal? Simple: bats eat bug pests. Not only mosquitoes, but insects that infest crops. If you want inexpensive food, mostly free of pesticides, you should root for the bats.

We all hear about various drugs found in the rainforest. Why the rainforest? Through sheer diversity of species and quantity of species, plants and fungi and evolved various chemicals to prevent animals from eating flowers, eating seeds, eating leaves, eating stems, and eating roots, while at the same time providing food in the form of fruit. These plants have had millions of years to design chemicals and food, which we are only now just barely learning about. How much of what we use comes from plants? Too many to mention, but rubber (latex), virtually ALL antibiotics, and digitalis for heart problems all come from plants. Some of our favorite fruits like papaya, mango, and bananas come from tropical forests. Native cultures in the tropics used plants to treat all sorts of illnesses, from headaches to menstrual cramps to infections to sore muscles to insect stings. We are barely beginning to harness the products the rainforest can produce.

So, what is the big deal of losing a species? For me, the number one reason will always be: WE WOULDN'T KNOW THE LONG TERM CONSEQUENCES until it was too late. Perhaps the species plays some role in controlling an unknown pest. Perhaps the species can provide a chemical that can help prevent cancer. Perhaps the species helps in the life cycle of an important plant crop.

And for me, we, as a species, do not have the right to allow a species to go extinct. The earth becomes a little poorer every day through the extinctions that occur.

So, do your part. Help protect endangered species, and support those doing research to learn more about how to protect a species.

A Rainforest Work Day

2011-02-03T01:47:00.003-05:00

It's gotten very wintry here. But somehow my thoughts have wandered to someplace warmer.

...

I turn off the alarm. It is 3:35 am. We have about an hour and half walk to our field site, and it is time to get ready. I grope for my headlamp. . I look for my contact lens case, and "put my eyes in." I find my boxers and change. I exit my tent, which acts as my mosquito net, and don my pants and my field shirt.

It is pitch black except for the light of our headlamps. We all move slowly, stretching our limbs, getting our minds ready for the walk and the day ahead. We all check with each other that we have collected everything we need for the day. Items forgotten cannot be gotten later.

Much of what we need we got ready the night before. We all finish our light breakfast of cocoa or coffee, and start on the trail.

Darkness in the rainforest is a very interesting experience. Your world becomes one of sound, smell, and the small circle of light that your headlamp or flashlight provides. Tiny sticks become trip wires, causing one to stumble frequently. Nightjars and the occasional owl serenade us as we walk. It remains pitch black the first hour of the walk. This is the stuff of childhood nightmares.

Sometimes we might see a snake on the trail. We have walked the trail numerous times before. We make various kinds of small talk, to keep our minds awake. Plus, we are all still somewhat strangers to each other, and we all want to learn more about what makes each of us, us.

Near 5 am, the faintest of sunrise light is coming. Headlamps are still fully necessary. The trees block out nearly all light on the forest floor, so only the tops of the trees right now see the faint beams of sun. We turn off the main trail, and take our side trail marked on the GPS to our field site.

Now, we become more aware of other sounds coming from the forest. The first rays of light have begun to awaken the daytime birds of the forest. First, only a few sporadic calls here and there. A guan calls. A forest falcon. We focus hard on the trail - it is not as well trodden in here, and parts of it are near a drainage, so a poorly placed foot can make one fall.

It's 5:10 now. In the brief time it took us to get to our first "landmark" (the crazy palm), the forest begins to really come alive. The motmots are calling fairly consistently now, as well as the attillas. Other birds chime in, many with the only song you will hear from them that day. An Allpahuayo Antbird. Pearly Antshrike. Rufous-capped Antthrush. As the minutes tick by, the light increases with each step, and soon I have my headlamp flipped off. We are very near the field site, timed just perfectly so that we can open the nets with the peak of bird activity.

In ten brief minutes, all the nets are open, and we have gotten all of ourselves to the banding station. We efficiently open the tarps, and get ourselves organized for the 10 hour day ahead. We check all the equipment, make sure everything is square, and take a short breath. I pull out breakfast - drinkable yogurt, bread, butter, marmalade. It doesn't seem like much, but it is enough to satisfy our empty stomachs. There are only four of us, so we know we will all have plenty of work.

Forty minutes after first opening the nets, it is fully light out, though the sun is not very high in the sky. The rainforest provides oodles of shade - but pesky insects as well. Not until later in the season are they bad enough that I feel a need to put on bug repellent. We all get up and head to the nets with cloth bird bags, ready to remove birds from nets, bag them, bring them back the station, and band them.

Every forty minutes we go check the nets, and bring birds back. Towards about noon, the forest has really quieted down, and we only get one or two birds per "net run." This is the ideal time to have lunch as well - bread, avocado, crackers, and tomato, with mayonnaise and aji for condiments. And cookies for dessert. Somehow, we manage to work on this quantity of food.

Near 3 pm, we start to get things ready for the final net checks, and closing. The forest is beginning to come alive again, however. Birds are becoming active again, as they look for enough food to last them through the twelve hour night. And the light is fading as well, even with sunset 2 hours away.

The last net runs get kind of frantic. Only four of us out there, and we catch 10 birds! Two of us each go in separate directions, going to the ends of the net array, and closing the nets as we walk back, and taking the birds out. We woop back and forth, letting the others know how many birds we have, as well as where we are, and what nets are closed. We bring birds to the station, and two of us process while the others clean debris out of the nets and furl them for the next day.

It's 5 pm, and we're feeling frantic. And hungry! And there is still a ninety minute walk back to camp. But we are finishing the last bird. And finally have the station getting closed up. And all the gear packed. We look around, make sure we have everything, and begin walking. We all have our headlamps on and ready to go - but there is perhaps enough light to get us back to the main trail.

Near 6 pm, we have finally gotten to the main trail, and it is already pitch black. And we still have about an hours walk to go. This is a great group, however - we always find completely random topics to occupy our conversation on the way home, and the "jungle gym" always gives us a little adventure to enjoy on our walk back.

7 pm and we have made it back to camp. And god bless the Peruvians: they have dinner ready to serve! We all come in, change what clothes we need (we are all dripping with sweat), and sit down to a well deserved dinner.

And relax. And talk about the day. And discuss our question of the night.

And prepare to repeat the routine the next day.

And then go to bed.

Peruvian Thoughts

2011-01-08T00:05:00.003-05:00

[Varillal, or white sand stunted forest. Trail/net lane in middle]

I finally left Peru. And it is hard to believe, but it was three weeks ago.

I wanted to give myself some time before I put my last thoughts about Peru up. Give my thoughts time to sort themselves out. Allow the Christmas and New Year's excitement to live on their own. Keep Peru from being interfered with.

For the first time on one of my field jobs, I don't feel I have any really strong lasting images of the trip that spring right to mind when I think back on it.

Australia (2009) has the fairy-wrens, parrots of all kinds, magpies, kangaroos, people, bowers, and the hikes. New Zealand (2009-10) has the Yellow-eyed Penguin. And the Nelson Lakes National Park hike. Maine (2009) has the shorebirds. Missouri (2009) has the Ozark Trail, and numerous nests.

The work in Peru was fun. It was nice to have the same tasks to do, not every day, but in a consistent pattern. Set up, band for 3 days, pick up and move, repeat. Visit town every two weeks. Enjoy the amenities of town just long enough, then venture away again.

I wrote many various images down during my flights home. I wrote in my journal nearly every day I was in the field, and would record some lasting images, or something that happened that day that I would remember. I wrote down EVERY question of the night (something for a later post). But for now, from where I am right now, when I think back on this trip to Peru (these are in no particular order):

-drinks during daylight hours at Nicoro bar. Having beers on the Amazon river was nice, but the setting of the bar itself was what made it. I especially enjoyed the couple of times that Lil and I, and Maru and I, were able to enjoy some time there ourselves. I like field crews, but sometimes just one on one is nice.

-for good or bad, a lasting memory I will have is the field trips in November, and how far from home I felt. My brother was diagnosed with cancer right before the first November trip. That is the first time I have ever felt a strong urge to go home. But I am glad I stayed.

-getting bird number 1.300. Not only for the bird number, but for the other 5 new birds I got with it. I am always happiest when birding.

-River boat rides.

-Nightly dinners and questions of the night

-Walking in the forest at night by headlamp.

-the crew of course. and my boss.

Those were what come straight to mind. In another year, when I think back on it, I suspect other things may come to mind. They always do. It is funny how my mind works.

I'm sure I will post more about Peru in the future. I do expect to go back again, to visit areas I didn't have a chance to visit during this trip. For now, I can relax in the states for a little while, and get ready for the next group of field jobs.

Happy birding!

The difficult part

2010-12-16T10:58:00.009-05:00

[View of the Rio Nanay from the 'port' of Por Venir. During my last hour in the field, not counting the boat ride]

Goodbyes are a part of life for me.

It seems I say goodbye more often than I say hello. And with field jobs, it usually is a goodbye. Not a see you later. Not an 'hasta luego' (Spanish for see you later). A goodbye.

It is rare I get to see people from a field job again. Through the wonders of the internet age, I do get to stay in touch a little better - but it is a two way street, and sometimes lives just get so busy, you fail to stay in touch as well as you would like.

I have managed to see some people I have worked with after my first field job with them. My friend Ryan and I managed to work together for a second time in 2009 - through little conscientious planning on our part. I saw my friend Archer that I worked with in 2006, when I worked for her last year in Australia. And my friend Ginger and I, though often separated by oceans (Atlantic or Pacific), have managed to see each other once or twice every year. And I was able to a manage a short visit with a former coworker last year in Colorado, on my way home.

But I've been doing this work for over 10 years now. And have met/worked with probably a couple hundred people, that I have never seen again (though would like to).

Ornithological field jobs bring somewhat random people together who would otherwise probably never have met, except maybe at a bird conference or a bird field trip somewhere. And even then, rarely have I met someone who has the enthusiasm for birdwatching and listing as I have. Our crew this year consisted of a Finn, four Peruvians (or Peruvian born), a Hungarian, a Columbian, an Argentinian, and three Americans, counting myself. As well as two additional Americans that joined us for a brief time in the field. So most definitely, I would not have met many (or any) of these people, except through this field job.

So, yeah, the goodbyes are hard to take.

Field jobs are a different mode of work, I feel. I tell people on field jobs stories and life history that I have told no one else. Perhaps it's the comfort of knowing they don't know your circle of friends and family, so secrets are safe (even in the age of Facebook). But also - you live with these people, on a job like this, twenty four hours a day, seven days a week, for weeks to months on end. It's not through boredom, but just through sheer curiosity (that's what makes us scientists!) that we all learn everything and anything about each other. And for the most part, we (field biologists) aren't judgmental.

I love that part. But it makes the goodbyes harder to handle.

I'm the last one left down here, excepting my boss (who currently is in the field). I fly out in a few hours, and the goodbyes are starting to get hard to take. Slowly one by one (and two by two recently), I've been left all alone...

So, to all I have worked with (and this is in no particular order):

Jess: Yay! A hockey fan! That, and the recharge you gave the boss are what I will remember. Having a fresh face, even for a few days, was something we all needed. In addition, we could all tell that you and Judit share a unique friendship. It was great having you aboard.

Katherine: Your odd sense of humor (well, odd to me) was great - and I loved watching you learn how to identify all these wonderful rainforest birds. I hope many more wonderful travels await you. And it was nice to have someone to identify with concerning sibling relationships.

Valentina: Helping you learn your rainforest birds was a real treat. It did help reinforce my desire to be a full time guide. I hope to see you again sometime when I am wandering about Columbia - I know I will get down there, I just don't know when (with 20% of the world's bird species there, it's not an if, but a when).

Stephen, aka Esteban: Just having a guy around after having spent nearly 3 months with mostly women all the time, thanks! Random movie quotes - I love that with crews. And having a non-biologist around for a few days, it helps open fresh eyes. A thirst for knowledge is a great trait to have. Don't lose it.

Jamie: It seems so long ago since you were part of our crew. I appreciated your funny stories. To some degree I envy you switching projects - but I still had fun here. I'll also recall the walk to Nuevo Esperanza, when the four of us were under the weather. At least we weren't suffering alone! And remember collapsing not more than 100 meters from our destination after hiking for an hour?

Percy and Susanna (Peruvian): Thanks for the help with finding new birds. And helping my poor Spanish speaking skills improve, if only slightly. And thanks as well for helping with the identification of those new birds. Susanna, much special appreciation for finding me number 1.300 (and numbers 1.296, 1.297, 1.298, 1.299, and 1.301).

Karina: CHOCOLATE! Chocolate makes everything better. I'm glad for the random special treats we had in the field. Having an extra hand with everything was a huge plus. I look forward to seeing you again, when I make it back to Peru. Someday.

So, these last few people, I will many things of. Lillia ("Lil"), Maru, Judit, and myself formed the crew in the month of October. Oona was with us in the beginning, then came back after a trip to another part of the country to work the tail end of the field season. No knock at all on the rest of the crew - but the trips we took by ourselves were just slightly different.

Oona ("Oon", and half of "Unit"): PUFFBIRD! (That picture is obviously of a bird, not of Oona). Yup. PUFFBIRD. I love your enthusiasm for certain bird groups. And that you have not been afraid to take some chances. You didn't let things slow you down much. I loved that you weren't afraid to speak your mind at times. And your fun questions of the night.

Lillia ("Lil" and at times "Claire"): If you wonder why I chose THAT bird, it's because I remember being very quiet the one day I was banding him. And you were trying to identify it, but were fixated on the flycatchers. And eventually you got it. I appreciate your forthrightness, and I am a better person for having met you (cliche, but true). And it was really fun to watch you grow as a field technician - by the end, you were one of the "experts" in processing a bird. It must have been those days at trente uno, and at San Martin. And I appreciate your concerns about my affairs at home. Stay tuned to my life to know how things turn out.

Maru: Saying goodbye to you was especially difficult, because you left us during our stay in one of the communities. I am glad that you helped me with my Spanish - I am understanding more, especially the written form. As I said during your final question of the night, I will remember randomly communicating with you while I was working in Wyoming. I really enjoyed the long conversations we had during the long walks at km 28. Talking to you helped me think through many of the issues with some of my future adventures. I look forward to seeing you again when I make it to Argentina. Again, it is a when, not if, I make it down there. And thank you as well, for having a sympathetic ear when I was (and still am) concerned about my brother.

Finally, we come to the reason I was able to come down here in the first place:
Judit (rarely "Jud", and the other half of "unit"): I learn something on every job I take. That's my goal. I learned more here than I expected, and more about myself (and how to improve) than I even remotely thought. When I got the job offers from Peru waaaaay back in May (wow!), as soon as you said "bird banding" and "Amazon", you had me. It was no contest.

And I was not disappointed. I learn much about identification skills with birds in the hand, and you gave us the opportunity to band all the birds. And bleed them. I am SO glad I was able to improve (and in the case of taking blood samples, learn) these skills, and you forcing us to do so made it all the better.

But, I will remember your constant energy. And your smile. That day you came out from the community at San Martin, with an ear to ear grin, surrounded by the kids - that's forever fixed in my mind. You manage a crew well, and I hope to be at least half as good as you are at that if I ever need to run one. Thanks for hiring me!

Diversity

2010-12-10T07:31:00.003-05:00

[Hylophylax naevius, Spot-backed Antbird]

Diversity (n): the condition of having or being composed of differing elements. Synonym: variety.

Imagine some of the birds you know. Pretty easy when you start to. In the US, some of the following will come to mind: American Robin. Northern Cardinal. Mallard. Canada Goose. Black-capped (or another species of) Chickadee. Bald Eagle. Can you think of more than 20? 50? 100?

If I were to mention, that by current count, there are about 10.000 species (different variety) of birds on the planet, would you really understand what that means? That means of the classic bird "form" you know (wings, two legs, head, tail, etc), there are 10.000 different ways it is put together, and colored. North America has about 750 of these varieties.

Where does one go to see all this diversity? Well, everywhere! But a good place to appreciate the true amount of variety possible is the tropics, where I find myself at the moment. Every day, I see something that makes me go, wow, that's different (birds and other creatures, and plants, and fungi)!

I am fascinated every day by all the different forms life takes. I appreciate the variety of birds, of course, but everything else as well (check out my flickr sets to see everything). And every time I see a new bird, I wonder about what species I might see next. And where the next adventure could bring me.

Now, let's go back to the bird species of North America again. There are about 750 species or so found there. My world checklist now has about 1.350 species of birds on it, that I have seen. I have nearly seen twice as many species in the world than there are in North America. My list for North America is 430 birds or so; so in reality, I have seen two times as many species outside North America as I have in North America. And all because of the tropics.

I have traveled a nice variety of tropical areas the past few years. Costa Rica (with a trip to Panama thrown in). Australia. Ecuador. And now Peru. In Costa Rica, I have done some extensive travel (though the country is quite small), while in Australia, Ecuador, and Peru, my travels have been limited, while my time in one area has been long.

And I really get to appreciate the diversity of those places. Every time I think I have seen much of what there is to see, BAM!, I get something new. Whether it be a bird, a new flower, some wild looking insect, it's fascinating no matter what.

Here in Peru, though, I really am appreciating the variety I am seeing. Lets take one small group of birds, for example: Woodpeckers. Most of us are familiar with the type of bird these are. Thick strong bill. Round head. Powerful neck to hammer at wood. In North America, many of us would be familiar with the Downy and Hairy Woodpeckers in our backyard, as well as perhaps the Pileated Woodpecker. There are also four species of sapsuckers (Williamson's, Red-breasted, Red-naped, and Yellow-bellied). The Northern Flicker. Lewis's, Acorn, White-headed, Red-headed, Black-backed, American Three-toed, Golden-fronted, Ladder-backed, and Strickland's Woodpeckers. I have seen all these. Did you know there were so many (and that there are a few more in North America)?

During my trip here, I have seen the Red-necked Woodpecker (Campephilus ruficauda), Lineated Woodpecker (Dryocopus lineatus), Crimson-crested Woodpecker (Campephilus melanoleucos), Scale-breasted Woodpecker (Celeus grammicus), Chestnut-woodpecker (Celeus elegans [only in the hand]), Yellow-tufted Woodpecker (Melanerpes cruentatus), and Red-stained Woodpecker (Veniliornis affinis [only in the hand]). Pretty good variety.

During our walk out last trip, we walked through some fine forest, with oodles of bird activity. And wouldn't you know it, I still found a new species of woodpecker for my list, the Ringed Woodpecker (Celeus torquatus). Listed as "rare but widespread." Widespread, but rare would be right, knowing that I had been here, in ONE small area of the Amazon, for nearly 90 days at that point, and I hadn't seen it yet.

And still, there are numerous woodpeckers still to see here. Not to mention piculets as well, which are small diminutive woodpeckers. So all this begs the question.

When will I be back?

My trip here is drawing to a close. I finished my last field trip yesterday. Have I "birded" this area out? I got 2 new world species this past trip, and one more new species for Peru. But it's not birded out, not by a long shot. I have been in an area that is 58.000 hectares (143.000 acres). Comparisons to the US National Parks: twice the size of Crater Lake National Park, about three times the size of Acadia National Park, half the size of Grand Teton National Park, and about the same size as Zion. So big, but not by many standards.

And I still need to get some of the birds I have seen in the hand, but have not been able to sight flying freely. Like that lovely bird above, the Spot-backed Antbird. A couple of those woodpeckers (though I have searched often for them!). And numerous others. And I have not even really birded extensive Amazon rainforest yet.

So, yeah, I will be back.

Sometime.

Trogons

2010-11-30T11:03:00.003-05:00

If you pull out a North American field guide that covers the western United States, there are some, well, "different" looking birds in it. The United States and Canada have about 750 regular occurring bird species. Many non birders are familiar with the common birds. Woodpeckers, American Robins, cardinals, sparrows, chickadees, ducks. The two countries cover a lot of area. When you look at the field guide, go to the sections that include hummingbirds, swifts, and kingfishers.

Somewhere in that section, you will see two birds labeled trogons. Depending on the version/edition, one may be referrred to as a quetzal. These barely reach into the United States. One has to travel to one particular area, of one particular state, to have just a chance to see these birds. That area is in Arizona.

Why that area? As warm as Florida is, and southern California, and south Texas, only that little part of Arizona is connected to rainforest or montane forest habitat in Mexico that is suitable to trogons. And so, birders flock there (like that little pun?) to find this bird, among other specialty species, so that they can "count" the bird in North America. Yes, eventually, I will get there, too.

So, lets look into my past. In 2007, I had yet to really travel into what I consider Latin America: any area south of the United States and Mexico border. I had taken a brief winter trip, for work, to follow birds on the Mexican Plateau. Fun work, but all the work was in grasslands. So, the birds I was seeing were sparrows, pipits, and various raptors and some limited shorebirds. In short, no birds I would truly consider tropical. All the species we looked at (save one) could be found in the United States or Canada. And since that trip, I have seen most of them in the United States.

I was working in Hawaii when I was offered an opportunity to work as a volunteer for a conservation organization in Ecuador. I jumped at the chance: I did not consider myself a strong applicant, but apparently I was. My birding bug was just starting to take hold at this point, and after I got my field guide, I was very anxious to see many of the species (especially the hummingbirds) illustrated in the field guide.

So, in mid-August, I jumped on an early morning plane to Ecuador. After my arrival, I relaxed and slept. I had another full day of travel afterward. So, from Quito, I got on another plane, flew to Loja, got onto a taxi, then took a bus to the station. I did not get to the station until the late evening (around 6:30, 7 pm or so), so it was dark when I arrived (equatorial time: sunrise around 6 am every day, sunset around 6 pm every day). In other words, even though I had spent about 36 hours in the country at that point, I hadn't seen much except scenery. Our station was at around 2.400 meters elevation (about 7.900 feet).

This was my first time traveling in a foreign country, alone, not being able to speak the native language very well. Hence the lack of birding at that point. I really didn't know what to do (and I hadn't discovered travel guides yet).

I coordinated my first days schedule with my trainer/coworker Leigh. Then rested, and woke up the next morning. Had my breakfast, and headed to the field area.

I walked the road to the trail head, and just relished where I was. I turned onto the trail, and saw a bird run across/along the trail. I had NO IDEA what it was. I later learned it was an antpitta, a group of birds I would become familiar with over the next two months (and since). There is nothing like that in North America. A shorter distance down the trail, a bird flew over my head, and landed on an exposed branch about 10 meters away.

And when I looked at that bird, I recall thinking to myself, welcome to the tropics. I knew I was about to see lots of wonderful things. Though I could not identify the bird to species at the moment (silly me, I wasn't carrying a field guide), it was my first (of many) trogon and quetzal species, the Masked Trogon (picture above). And I got to stare at it until I was tired. So for me, the quintessential tropical bird will always be trogons. I was in awe enough that I didn't get my camera out.

And we come to 19 November, 2010, during my most recent field site trip here in Peru. I knew coming down here, that I would see many new birds. One goal was at least 100 new species, and if I could, 169 species (to get me to 1.400 for the world). We were at our banding station, and during a moment that I was there getting ready to target net down the trail, we heard a deep calling trogon over our heads. Jess called out, "found it," while looking straight over her head.

New bird species number 100 for Peru for me was the Black-tailed Trogon (Trogon melanurus). How nice for that. It was my second new species of trogon for my life list from this trip to Peru, the first being Trogon viridis, or Green-backed (or White-tailed) Trogon. I love these birds colors.

And that wasn't the last of the trogon adventures here. After banding for our 500 net hours at site one, we picked up the nets and station, and moved further away into another area of the same white sand patch. We set up, and prepared for day 1 the next day.

Bird. After bird. After bird. Was caught. At one point, we ran out of bird bags. It was a busy morning. Murphy's law: when the boss can't be there, we get lots of work! During a net run, my coworker Oona came back with bird bags, and told us which were priority birds (hummingbirds and small birds get processed first), and told us that one bag was a fun surprise. No one thought much on it, except that we were anxious to find out what it was (we had many birds to process first).

When we got to the bird: a TROGON! The project had never caught one to this point, since they are usually flying around too high to be caught in a mist net.
[Photo courtesy of Judit Ungvari-Martin's work camera]

The awkward pose is because the birds have very short legs.

So, those two days were definitely highlights of my trip to Peru.

I continue to add new species to my life list here in Peru. I got 13 new species on our last 15 day trip, so I have slowed down a little, but I think part of that was how busy this last location is. I have gotten some of the white sand specialists that I have hoped to see, but wasn't counting on. Birds here are hard to detect and find, after all. Those two were Allpahuayo Antbird, and the Gray Legged Tinamou. Both offered wonderful looks, and the only time have gotten a better look at ANY tinamou species, was in Costa Rica, when the Little Tinamou came to our bird feeder. I am spending more time wandering around to find birds to target net, which has allowed me to spend more time photographing things other than birds, and to search for birds when I hear them singing or calling.

I don't expect to get to 1.400 bird species. But if I do, I will be tremendously happy. I have some free time here in the Amazon after this last trip is done, and I will use it as wisely and effectively as possible.

And during our last river boat ride, I reflected upon how lucky I am. I have been in Peruvian Amazon rainforest for the past three months. I will have seen, on average, more than one new species a day. Since first learning about the rainforest way back to I don't know when, I have thought it would be an awesome place to visit. And I have not been disappointed. I am very lucky to have had all these opportunities, and I look forward to having more.

Carpe diem. Try not to have regrets. Our lives are short, take every opportunity to do things you want to do. Remember to have fun.

Thanks - the 2010 version

2010-11-14T08:03:00.004-05:00

[Floating back to Iquitos from the community of San Martin on the River Nanay - ahhhhhhh!]

I will be in the field during the upcoming American Thanksgiving holiday. So what am I thankful for?

First and foremost - I am thankful I have such a supportive and encouraging family, both immediate and extended. The e-mails, however brief, I get from home make the long distances easier to deal with, and the long communication gaps. It is taking me a long time to figure out where I want my life to go, but certain events of the past 16 months have definitely made me realize I need to take my opportunities to travel now. Thank you all so much.

I am thankful that though I don't have anyone (except my sister) I consider my best friend, I have a small circle of very close friends that I can talk to about everything I need. In no particular order, they are Ryan, Kristina W, Ginger, Archer, Cat and Ben, and Leslie.

I am thankful that I have been so blessed and lucky in these field excursions, that I find some way to make it work for now, and that I have been able to travel so extensively. When I look back on the past 16 months, it seems so unreal. Missouri and Maine; Australia and New Zealand; Wyoming and now Peru. Wow.

So in that regard, I'm thankful I have had the privilege to work for and with some of the best people ever. In no particular order: Judit, Adrienne, Jennifer, Hannah, George, Ken, Pauline, Liz and Abraham, Heather, Archer and Reimi, and Ryan.

Thanks again to all of you. You mean more to me than you can possibly know.

Ants, Forest Falcons, and Puffbirds

2010-11-13T22:06:00.005-05:00

Yup, life is still fun down here in Peru. That's me with a Yellow-browed Antwren that we caught in the net. Only the 4th capture of that species for the season. As you can tell by the beard growth - it was near the end of our trip in the field (I shave each time we are in Iquitos).

It's hard to say what group of birds I love the most, here in Peru and throughout the world. Perhaps the birds I enjoy watching the most, though, are antbirds and their relations.

In the New World Tropics, army ants play a unique role in the lives of birds. Army ants do not make a nest, like most species we are familiar with, but rather behave like an army. For a few weeks, as they are raising pupae into young ants, the ants themselves make a nest with their bodies, and make small foraging bouts every day to search for mites and other small prey. After the pupae hatch, the ants go on the move as an entire horde, making a 'bivouac' every night after wandering the forest floor. Larger insects, their camouflage made moot by the HORDES of ants that wander over the ground and the plant material, will jump, crawl, and/or fly away.

Which is where the birds come in, including species like the one I am holding in the photo. With the camouflage made moot, birds have a "free" meal. Or at least one that is easy to find! And the common birds on this swarms? Antbirds.

I've gotten various species this way - including some here. In Costa Rica, I got numerous ones (I was good at finding swarms there). For that reason, I enjoy the antbirds.

This recent trip, we didn't have a swarm at the nets themselves. But there was one near enough that we kept very busy. And so it was good that our crew expanded from the four of us, to a whopping eight! And we had plenty of work for all of us, especially since we had to train some of the new folks in what we were doing.

But what was the bird highlight of that day? A bird not associated with the ants - but may take the birds following the ants! And yes, I'm being goofy in this photo. You hold these birds in what is referred to as the ice cream cone grip.
A Lined Forest Falcon! The face and eyes are wild: all that orange, and the irises are nearly white.

Our first banding location at this site was very productive for captures. Numerous individuals of many species - having the army ant swarm nearby definitely helped in that regard.

One of the harder groups of birds to see in the tropics are a group referred to as puffbirds, in the family Bucconidae. They are midstory to canopy level birds, that sit still while they look for food. And don't call much. In other words, it will probably be by sheer luck one would ever see one (well, of most species in the group).

But, that is one advantage of netting! You will see birds that you may not easily have a chance to see. And so, we also caught a puffbird on one of our days at the station. You can understand how the name "puffbird" came about when you look at the head size (with feathers fluffed) in relation to body.
Of course, most of you know I don't count birds "in the hand" on my life list. Where's the search challenge? Though I do keep track of birds I have handled. So, for now, I was settling on seeing puffbirds in the hand. And enjoying them as such. But a benefit for me of bird banding is that I get to learn the species very well for identification purposes, and so when it comes time to looking for and seeing them in the forest, I know what field marks I'm looking for.

And so, on our last day of work in the field, while we were walking between plots to do vegetation, what should call (!) and fly in front of me - but the White-chested Puffbird (same as the bird above)! My day was complete, at that point. It was my second life bird of that day.

This last trip remained very enjoyable, with only one bittersweet moment. Our crew was at it's largest (eight) than it had been all season - and now, one by one, members will leave to continue their lives and travels independently. And so, on Tuesday last, we said goodbye (actually, ciao or hasta luego, since she is Argentinian) to one of our members, who is traveling on her own throughout more of South America (and perhaps Central America as well). We already miss Maru - but we are continuing to build happy, funny, and exciting memories.

I am continuing to add to my list, and not even little by little. This past trip provided me with even more species than San Martin did - Seventeen! I added a couple of hummingbirds, including the spectacular Gould's Jewelfront, which perched right next to us at the banding station for about five seconds, and those of us there got awesome views of the bird and it's colors. I also added my second puffbird species of the trip (the one above), and various flycatchers. The flycatchers: I had to chase down most of them! I am getting familiar with all the bird songs and calls down here, so now, I know which calls to follow/chase down. Plus, that is the best way for me to learn new songs and calls, anyway.

So, the lasting images I will have of this past trip? The Lined Forest Falcon, of course. The "countable" puffbird on the last day. The Gould's Jewelfront at the banding station. Day 1 at the second banding site, where for the first 2.5 hours of so, I was continually walking the net lanes, extracting birds and bringing them to the banding station. The sunsets over the river. Bathing in the river Nanay. Having the Nanay River at our front step. The return of the rains (it rained nearly every night). Using myself as a stepladder to check the inside of a trogon nest.

So, yes, it was a productive trip. Our next excursion brings us the farthest we will be from Iquitos, with a one hour bus ride to the river port, followed by a four hour (approximately) boat ride up river to the next community. And then, the crew will shrink in size again, drastically. And I will be thinking about going home again...and what the future will bring.

Xiphorhynchus obsoletus

2010-10-30T12:04:00.006-04:00

[Morning on the Rio Nanay, near the community of San Martin]

I will try to make sure I label the blog pictures from now on. [and videos, when applicable].

So, on 18 October 2010, the crew of six headed on our first boat ride to one of our field sites. First, it was a short (1 hour) autobus ride, fully loaded with us and gear (including the roof!) to the port of Bujurci, where we transferred us, and our gear, to the pekepeke (pronounced peKApeKa), the type of boat used on the Rio Nanay. Pretty much, think of a canoe with a motor (the pekepeke is the sound the engine makes). Shallow draft. But the roof is useful to keep the sun, and ever threatening rain, off one's head. And thus, we headed up river.

The Rio Nanay is a tributary of the Amazon. Our areas are north of the Amazon River - the Amazon River is actually more east of us here than south, but for biogeographic purposes (ranges of animal species) we are "north" of the Amazon. A short distance downriver from us, the Nanay enters the Amazon. From that junction, going upriver the Amazon is Nauta, where the Maranon joins the Ucayali to form the Amazon river. It is hard to describe in words, but if you find a geographic map of Peru, you can determine what I mean.

We journey up the Nanay. No matter the height of the river, it's speed is pretty consistent, slow, since the elevation gradient from here to the ocean is very gentle. We are about 2.000 river kilometers from the Atlantic ocean, and our elevation is only about 400 meters. So, the pekepeke doesn't have to fight a strong current, but there is a current. We travel by boat about an hour and half up river, taking some much needed rest along the way (it was a busy weekend in Iquitos).
[photo courtesy of Maru Lacoretz. I'm on the left, Lillia on the right, and Judit, my boss, is the legs you see in front of Lillia. That's most of our gear between us all. The roof is interwoven palm fronds].

After an hour and half, we arrive at the "port" for San Martin. The port is a sand beach. We muddily unload ourselves and our gear, arrange for the return ride in 12 days time (and one days time for two of our crew), and say goodbye to our outside contact. Then, most of us wait on the beach and in the shade while the boss and our Peruvian crew go to the community (a 15 minute walk) to introduce ourselves and arrange our stay and living conditions.

So, we had some time to pass. Gazing over the river is nice. For me, I really enjoy looking over the river and forest, and thinking of all the animals and critters there, and really how small we are in this grand world (and universe, for that matter).

When we first disembarked, I heard a hawk over our head. And after we made arrangements and relaxed a little, I saw the hawk. Near our head was an adult Black-collared Hawk, a common bird at river edge forest. It had a young bird nearby, that was persistently begging. Bird number 1.296!

Bird number 1.297 was more awesome - though I think all birds are awesome (well, maybe excepting house sparrows, rock doves, and starlings, but I digress). After gazing at the hawk, I noticed a black bird, quietly calling, about 100m away up a dried quebrada (stream). Using the binoculars, I notice there is no white in the face, and the bill is red, and the entire bird is a dark blue, almost black. Black-fronted Nunbird! WOO HOO!

So, San Martin was already a great place for me. I felt I could relax - that new birds would come to me there. I had no idea....

After watching the Nunbird for a while, I returned to the beach, to gaze over the river and rest (as I said, the weekend was busy, plus the sun was pretty intense). Then Suzanna, the other Peruvian, called me over to some birds calling by the forest (plus, I had my binoculars; she hadn't brought hers since she was returning to Iquitos the next day).

On the ground was a very drab bird, acting and looking like a flycatcher. There were two adults and couple of youngsters, making lots of noise. Later identification confirmed these as Drab Water-tyrants. A drab bird with a drab name - how appropriate. Bird number 1.298!

And more noise was heard. A consistent "turl turl turl url url url url urlurlee'ee". Eventually, the bird popped into view. Black-crested Antshrike! Bird number 1.299! I'm becoming quite fond of the various antbird groups.

At this point, I KNEW that I had seen new birds. I didn't have my field guide on me (it was buried in my one bag). I also had seen a small flycatcher-like bird in the tree (later identified as Spotted Tody-flycatcher) that I thought was new, but wasn't (I saw it about 3 weeks prior in the garden at the hostel). Then, we spied a woodcreeper.

Woodcreepers are difficult to identify. They are brown birds, with various forms of spots and streaks (and sometimes bars) on the back, head, and chest. Or lack them. They are similar to woodpeckers, and spend most of their time on tree trunks and limbs. Meaning it is hard to see field marks on the front of the bird. From my experiences in the tropics, I knew what to look for. First, I noticed the fairly straight, thickish, and shortish, creamy colored bill. Since I saw that, I took note of the birds relative size, and confirmed shape of the bill (I knew there were only two birds I had to choose from). When I could, I looked at the chin.

I did not know it at the time that it was number 1.300. I didn't even know for sure that the bird was new (as I said, I didn't have the guide handy).

But the next bird helped me know I was there. Cause I wasn't finished with new birds in this little spot! We had heard a wren sporadically sing here and there in that area, so I was anxious to see it show itself. And eventually, it did. Very well, in fact, for a brief (but intensive scrutinizing) 5 seconds. I guess I really know what to look for in identifying certain birds down here; I was able to keep images of all these birds in my head! Bars on wings. Striping in the head. Small. Buff underneath. Buff-breasted Wren!

So, at this point, I KNEW I had to have gotten 1.300 (the woodcreeper was the only 'not sure if it's new' species). So yeah, I did a little bird dance (it will be filmed tonight at the bar - I am keeping to my word of buying a round of beer for the crew).

When we got to the community and settled in a little, I pulled out my guidebook and checked on all the birds we saw. Bird number 1.300 turned out to be Xiphorhynchus obsoletus, the Striped Woodcreeper.

That was a good day. A very good day. I felt relieved that I finally passed 1.300 (a goal of mine, and actually also a New Year's resolution that was phrased as being 'if given the opportunity').

But San Martin decided to procure even more gifts for me, along the line of new birds. And photo opportunities. And of exciting things.

This site was the most diverse, and had the highest quantity of captures, of birds so far this season. All this with the smallest crew - four - of the season. It was great! I got to see Ringed Antpipit in the hand, along with Allpahuayo Antbird (endemic to our habitat), Zimmer's Antbird, Yellow-browed Antbird (quite colorful for an antbird), and Black-faced Antbird. But the highlight of our captures?
We caught a toucanet! The Golden-collared Toucanet! What a catch!

I don't count captured birds in my life list, but in the listing phase, I was not disappointed. I saw another species of hummingbird (Gray-breasted Sabrewing) when we discovered a nest of one next to the trail. I saw my first cotinga of the area on afternoon when walking home, the Plum-throated Cotinga. I saw my second COUNTABLE toucan of the season, when I saw the Many-banded Aracari in the trees on morning on the way to work. But for spectacular looking birds, nothing quite beat the Paradise Tanager: gold head, purple throat, light blue belly, black wings, red rump, black tail. It's like you give a kid a picture of a bird and tell him/her to color it how they want!

San Martin was very productive. It even felt almost cozy, with only the four of us there after the first night. We had adventurous stream crossings (sometimes boot free, sometimes over a log), an all day rainstorm, volleyball games, stream playing, lots of fresh fish, lots of birds, various nests found, and only mild illness (probably just sheer exhaustion, but who knows).

And the day we left rounded off the trip for me beautifully. While waiting for the boat, I saw a Capped Heron while taking a trip to water the bushes. A perfect end to the trip. So my list now stands at 1.311 species. And I already wonder - what will the next trip bring (aside from even MORE gear in the pekepeke. We have added 3 more people to our crew!).

Please see my flickr page for more photos I took.

A Listing History...

2010-10-29T18:36:00.002-04:00

Australian King Parrot (so, obviously, not a Peruvian bird. Which will be understood in a moment).

Numbers 1 to 100 [Prior to 1997]

I was only a casual birder, but the 'listing bug' was there. Most of the birds were the common ones seen at a backyard feeder, including my favorite bird the Northern Cardinal, as well as Black-capped Chickadee, American Robin, and Mourning Dove. I do recall seeing an Baltimore Oriole sometime when I was young, as well as an American Goldfinch. When I was in college, the 'bug' was born. I was introduced to birds I had seen but never knew the name of: White-throated Sparrow, Downy Woodpecker, White-breasted Nuthatch. I was also introduced to birds I had never heard of: Black-billed Magpie (a trip to Colorado), American Coot, and Horned Grebe.

100 to 200 [1997]

Already in this stage I began my international listing, during my first field job and the work we did on the Mexican Plateau in 1997. During the road trip from Colorado to there, I also got new birds. Many, in fact. In the US, I got Spotted Sandpiper, Western Screech Owl, Sandhill Cranes, and numerous duck species. In Mexico, the highlights for me were Greater Roadrunner, Aplomado Falcon, and 5-Striped Sparrow (the first bird I ever saw not found in the US [I may have the name wrong]).

200 to 300 [1997 - 1998]

My list continued to grow in the US, working that same first field job, only this time in the Middle Park area of Colorado. Sagebrush dominant habitat, but I also had opportunities to go to Rocky Mountain National Park, and Colorado National Monument. Even now, I can recall so many of the situations around certain birds, like the Pine Grosbeak in Rocky Mountain National Park, Flammulated and Boreal Owls in Colorado National Monument, and Sage Thrashers in the sagebrush in our work sites. As well as the flamboyantly colored Western Tanager, the first really colorful bird I ever saw. I also still rounded out my list in New York, while going to college. I was already refining my bird skills when I could. I also began to grow the list internationally again, across the pacific ocean, in Australia.

300 to 400 [1998]

Australia dominates this portion. My first trip there, if I recollect correctly, I saw 135 new species of birds. Including my first parrots (oodles of parrots). The bird life was so different there, it was AWESOME. I was so happy I "broke the bank" and went on that trip. I really began to learn what the world had to offer. My highlight of Australia at this point? Was, and will always will be, Rainbow Lorikeets, Kookaburras, and Fairy-wrens.

400 to 500 [1998-2000]

Australia numbers continued to be added, including some from the Great Barrier Reef! I saw my first birds I consider true "sea birds", the Brown Booby and Australasian Gannet. I added more birds from another country as well: New Zealand. Though I was only there for a few days, I saw a few native birds, including my e-mail tag line bird the New Zealand Dotterel, and the Tui. As well as numerous introduced species from Europe. After a short time in New York adding a few birds here and there, I headed to another field season in Iowa. Followed by Mississippi.

And added oodles of birds again, since I had birded in the East, and birded in the western mountains, but not in the great plains. So, grassland birds galore, like Upland Sandpiper, Common Yellowthroat, Grasshopper Sparrow, and American Woodcock, among others. Mississippi gave me an endangered bird (Red-cockaded Woodpecker), as well as some southern specialties, like Brown-headed Nuthatch. And I took some coastal trips to admire migrants, where I added many waders like Reddish Egret and Tricolored Heron, and shorebirds like Black-necked Stilt.

400 to 500 [2000-2003]

My numbers slowed down somewhat, as I remained in the US. But where I went helped add little clusters of numbers here and there. I worked in California, in the Sierra Nevada, where I added numerous far western birds, including the Yellow-billed Magpie, a species only found in California. Other birds during my time there included the Hermit Warbler, Hermit Thrush, Swainson's Thrush, Townsend's Solitaire, and Lazuli Bunting. Another field job in Texas added numerous birds, as I discovered migrants passing through during my work on the special birds of the Edwards Plateau: the Golden-cheeked Warbler and Black-capped Vireo. Magnolia Warbler, Ovenbird, and Cuckoos were among my highlights there. But the Scissor-tail Flycatchers will REALLY stick in my mind, for their gaudily long tails.

500 to 600 [2004-2006]

I took my first job in the eastern United States, and I was well rewarded. Wood-warblers galore! Northern Parula, Golden-winged Warbler, Hooded Warbler, Kentucky Warbler, and more. Whip-poor-wills (though I never got a good luck till years later in Missouri). Chimney Swifts. All the birds I had been "missing" since I hadn't been in the east actively birding, well, ever. I also achieved species number 300 while working in TN. I knew at this point my numbers in the US would slow down a little.

I returned to California again for a couple of field seasons, as well as to Texas as well. I added a few scattered birds here and there while working, but a big jump occurred with my first neotropical experience (kind of) with a weekend trip to south Texas. 2 days, 35 birds, but it was the species of birds that really blew my mind. Two additional kingfisher species, a couple of kingbird species, the Altamira Oriole, Great Kiskadee, Least Grebe, and that gaudy of gaudy birds (for the US), the Green Jay.

600 to 700 [2007 - also known as the year the addiction begins to take serious hold]

And now, the list grows fast! I rounded out my numbers on the mainland US a bit, when I wrapped up 2006 in Louisiana on a very brief field job (but which provided contacts for more jobs with many more new birds in the Pacific Northwest and Australia). Then, I traveled over an ocean in March of 2007, to Hawaii. And got some fantastic and wild looking native Hawaiian birds. Just the names are wild. Puaiohi. Apapane. I'iwi. Elepaio. Nene. Akikiki. Akeke'e. And some non-native birds from there as well.

And then - my first truly neotropical experience, where I realized what I had been missing. August of 2007 found me on a plane to Ecuador, to work in a cloud forest on a species only known for 10 years, and whose numbers were in the double digits. So, not only did I see the Jocotoco Antpitta, but also the Shining Puffleg, Amethyst-throated and Flame-throated Sunangels, Long-tailed Sylph, other Antpittas, and tanagers galore. I was in bird heaven, as a friend described.

700 to 800 [2007]

I remained in bird heaven in Ecuador. Ecuador gave me nearly 210 species for the country, nearly all of them new. I added birds from Paramo (high altitude habitat), and low-elevation cloudforest as well. Lots of new world flycatchers. Lots of hummingbirds. And birds in other groups I had only read about to that point: Antbirds, antshrikes, antwrens, spinetails, woodcreepers, thistletails, and more. As I said, I was in bird heaven.

800 to 900 [2007-2008]

I got my 400th US life bird in this stage, and continued to add international birds. I worked in Tennessee for a while, adding numerous waterfowl species I hadn't seen. Then I worked in the Pacific Northwest, a job I got through my contacts in Louisiana. I was able to add some boreal birds, that were spending the winter in that area.

And then, since I had some free time, I took a birding pleasure trip to Costa Rica. I was not disappointed. Amazing to me now is how quickly that trip came together for me. I added fewer new birds than I expected, but I did not travel as much, and instead birded the heck out of the few areas I visited. My highlights here? The first bird I saw in country was the Resplendant Quetzal (and wow, what a bird!). As well as the Orange-bellied Trogon. Silky-flycatchers. Volcano Hummingbird. Scarlet Macaw (second favorite bird ever!). I was happy.

900 to 1000 [2008-2009]

I returned stateside for a brief field season during migration in the desert southwest. I was now into the "specialized habitat" of my US list. So part of the reason I took that field job was the opportunity to see new species. Verdin, Abert's Towhee, Costa's Hummingbird were the highlights there, as well as the Scott's Oriole.

Then, I returned to Costa Rica, and got to work in an area I hadn't visited, and stay there for a good length of time. Not only did I add numerous species at my work site (like Stripe-headed Sparrow, Black-bellied Trogon, and various hummingbird species), I took some trips to other areas in the country when I was done, to check out birds there. Like Bare-throated Tiger Heron. Jabiru. Saltators. Hummingbirds (again!). I was still happy.

And these two trips provided me with the opportunity to nail number 1.000 for the world. Something I could not believe had happened, and made me realize I really was getting serious about this. I was able to procure an opportunity to work as a guide in Costa Rica, on the Osa Peninsula, in "the most biodiverse region on the planet" [National Geographic's words]. I added oodles of species in the first few days, like White Hawk, White-tipped Sicklebill, Band-tailed Barbthroat, Black-cheeded Ant-tanager, Yellow-billed Cotinga, Turquise Cotinga, and Red-capped and Orange-crowned Mannakins, and Laughing Falcon.

1000 to 1100 [2008-2009]

I was still in Costa Rica! And went through birds like mad. I got number 1100 during a personal trip to Rara Avis in Costa Rica, but not until after a short side trip to Panama. Panama didn't give me many, but I did get a few there. Every bird counts, no matter where I see it.

Green-fronted Lancebill. Black-throated Trogon. Baird's Trogon. Black-faced Antthrush. So many birds, so many.

1100 to 1200 [2009]

And the dividends of numerous field jobs and my contacts pay off. After rounding out a few birds in Missouri in May, June, July, and August, I went to Maine for 2 months. Not many new birds, but those I got, were great! Common Eider. Black Guillemot. Parasitic Jaeger. Wilson's Storm Petrel.

And then...my other Louisiana contact had me come to Australia. And I continued to add numbers, and the dance to when I saw a new bird. Variegated Fairy Wren. Buff-banded Rail. Pacific Baza. Did I mention how much I love bird names?

And then...I knew EXACTLY where I was...and I went to New Zealand. Where, on "Boxing Day", December 26th, I got species number 1200 in a wildlife sanctuary. The Kaka, a type of Parrot. Other species that day were the Stitchbird (Hihi), New Zealand Scaup, New Zealand Falcon, and Paradise Shelduck, among others.

1200 to 1231 [2009 to 2010]

New Zealand is not very diverse, currently, for bird life. But those I saw were fantastic. My last new bird of 2009 was the Tomtit (or the Brown Creeper, I can't fully recall). During the end of my trip to New Zealand, I got my first flightless birds: PENGUINS! Two species, as a matter of fact. And I added the complete opposite of flightless, masters of flight, in two Albatross species.

And then I headed back stateside. And worked in Wyoming. Where I added to my US list, and my world list, with American Three-toed Woodpecker, Red-necked Phalarope, Clay-colored Sparrow, and Harris's Sparrow.

And then, in August, I came to Peru. And as diverse as a rainforest is, it is actually hard to find, and see, the birds down here. So I slowwwwly added birds one by one (and sometimes two or three). Stipple-throated Antwren. Saffron-crested Pygmy Tyrant. Long-tailed Hermit. Fork-tailed Woodnymph. White-tailed (or Green-backed) Trogon. And we come to 19 October, 2010, and the day we arrived in San Martin, with my list at 1.295.

Time is a flyin' by...

2010-10-16T11:49:00.002-04:00

Pun intended.

For whatever reason, I felt October was going to feel like a long month. For better or worse, it hasn't felt that way at all. The past 10 day trip seemed to fly by! I think it has to do with the reduced crew size - we each have to do a little bit more. We have had to walk just a little further than before. We have caught just a few more birds than before as well, it seems. It occurred to me that today I have only a mere two months left before I "have" to head back stateside.

First, for those interested in the list count. I had a minor let down this past trip when checking my list totals. Due to the vagaries of how I wrote down my bird lists here, I was farther away than I thought on how many new birds I had to see to get to 1.300. As it stands now, I am 5 away. The last new bird was a Pearly Antshrike, that I saw while taking her mate out of the net.

I'm not worried about getting to 1.300. There is plenty of time left, and I also know that sometime soon, I will be spending more time able to bird watch than I have been. During the best times right now (from 5:30 to about 7:00 am), we are very busy on the banding station, taking birds out of nets and taking data on the birds. Normally it is around 9 AM or so by the time things slow down enough we can all take some drinks of water, eat some food, and take a breath. Which is fine by me. We have been catching a wonderful variety of birds.

Including some friends from North America! We caught our first migrants this past trip, and the only species we can reasonably expect to catch (other migrants may be present, but they would be canopy birds, where we don't have nets). We have caught both Swainson's and Gray-cheeked Thrushes. The latter is a good catch - it is the first time that bird has been caught on this project. So, I guess fall and winter really are arriving for home.

Another new bird we caught was the Buff-rumped Warbler. Related to the migratory warblers I know back home, but this one is non-migratory, and stays in the rainforest year round. When I took the bird out of the net, I knew right away the bird looked familiar. But, since it was the first time we had caught one, we double checked it against other birds in the field guide. But my experience with birds was such that everything about the bird screamed "warbler" at me.

Another highlight? A Roadside Hawk (Buteo magnirostris)! We hear them with some frequency in our netting areas, but to catch one is somewhat unusual. I have handled smaller raptors before (Accipiter striatus, or Sharp-shinned Hawk) from nets, but this was another size up entirely - I am glad it was my boss who took the bird out (and she has some wounds to prove it).

We especially admired the Golden-tailed Sapphire (hummingbird) as well, and I am so disappointed that it escaped (what do you expect from holding a bird 3 inches long?) before we were able to get its picture. This, again, was a first capture for the project - it is a bird that spends more time in the canopy than down low.

And we are still getting oodles of antbirds, and though I saw my first army ant swarm this past trip, it was not as good for bird variety as ones I have seen in the past. I am patient though - I know sooner or later I will see an awesome flock, and be going crazy with new birds! I still haven't gotten Pithys albifrons (White-plumed Antbird), which is weird because it may be the third most common species we catch!

And in other good/not as good news: the rains have returned! We are back into the rainy season now, and we have seen more rain in the past 4 days than the previous month I was here. Which is good for bird activity. And helping the days stay a little more cooler. But is not good for mosquito activity - I have yet to apply bug dope, but that may change now that the rains have come. I will say I am suffering the least (heck, I'm barely suffering!) from bug bites and the like. Very few mosquito bites. Little to no chiggers. No "awful pox," as we call it. I have been attacked by a few horseflies (annoying buggers), sweat bees (I'm fine as long as they don't bite), and wasps (hurts like the dickens for about 5 minutes). But I knew I would get that coming down here. So, it's all part of the tropical experience.

What do I expect from the next part of the trip? It's always hard to say in the tropics. We head up river tomorrow - so there may be some different birds to see during the trip. This trip is a little longer than before (12 days), but when we return, our crew will grow in size again. And I really really hope to be over 1.300 by the end of this trip. Every trip brings some surprises; I can't wait to see what they will be this time!

This wonderful life

2010-10-05T21:08:00.004-04:00

[Photo courtesy of Jamie Miller, 2nd from the right]

There are so many things I could talk about regarding this past trip, I don't know where to begin. We finally seem to be settling into our routines here, with the minor hiccup of multiple people in 'sick bay' during the last trip. No big deal, just "flu season", but still. Annoying.

So the trip started with two of us suffering from the flu, and having to hike about 3 km into our next site. With full packs. In the mid day sun. In the tropics. I think we sweated all the ills out of our system about 20 minutes into the hike.

But once at camp, we settled in quite quickly. Our normal routine is to get camp set up, meaning set up our tents, get our gear organized, and get some food as well. We recruit someone from each community that we stay in to be our 'tenant' (land to set up our tents on), as well as our camp cook. Which, I have learned, makes life a bit easier for us. When we come back from our time in the field, we don't have to spend time preparing meals, but rather it is ready every day about the same time. It allows for a little bit of relaxation in camp. And then while those of us suffering from the flu rested, the boss and others went to find our first banding area, and trim some mist net lanes.

So, not much else to report from there. Life gets to be kind of routine here. We are a little tired of crackers as snacks. I never tire of yogurt though. Or salads. And I am beginning to FULLY appreciate bucket showers! I have decided Peru is hotter than Australia, but only because it never cools here, even at night. While Australia, it at least got cool enough at night to need a sleeping bag.

But of course, many of you might be interested in the bird highlights of the trip. I am currently JUST shy of 1.300 species for the world. How shy? Three, count'em (not quite yet!), THREE shy.

So, the bird highlights?

We caught a Royal Flycatcher, which is a wild bird to handle. Not frisky, but it has this big red crest. Think Dilophosorus in the movie Jurassic Park. And it opens it's bill, and opens the crest, and slowwwwly moves its head back and forth. One wild looking bird.

We caught a Red-necked Woodpecker, which is in the same genus as the (presumed) extinct Ivory-billed Woodpecker. HUGE bird to handle. I did not envy my boss, who suffered some pecking from it.

Oodles of different antbirds, for me one of the quintessential rainforest birds. Our first net area was probably near an army ant swarm, that many of these species follow. So I got good looks (a great way to learn new birds!) at the different species we caught.

But for me, it is always a highlight to see new species of bird, NOT in the hand. My list, my rules. Anyway, I entered this past trip at 1.268 species. I left there having seen 23 more, well above my intended average per day. The highlight day for me was day 6 or so, when Jamie, Percy, Suzanna, and I walked a little slower than the rest. And we found this nice area, at just the right time, that I got 5 new birds in 5 minutes. Which does not happen often here. Just one of those things, that after a long, somewhat boring, hot day at the banding area, makes you forget all about the sweat, the heat, the funny shirt smell (also referred to as rancid hobo), and the lack of cold ANYTHING.

Another highlight? Birdwatching from the porch of the Nicoro Bar today in Iquitos. 6 new birds, while gazing across the Amazonian Rainforest. With a beer in hand.

Life doesn't get much better than that.

Preguntas de la noche

2010-09-23T10:17:00.003-04:00

I won't share everything here, but I thought some of you might be interested in the kind of things we talk about here to keep camp lively.

The stupidest thing we've ever done. Strangely, most did not involve alcohol.

The biggest challenge we have (or are trying to overcome). For me, it is/was my speech impediment.

Highlight of the day (done various times). Yesterday, on our trip to the conservation center, for me was seeing a squirrel monkey. I never saw them in Costa Rica.

Bravest thing we have ever done. For me, I felt it was taking the solo backpack trip through Yellowstone this past year. Though I have backpacked alone before, that was the first time I had to be VERY aware of my surroundings.

When we stopped believing in Santa Clause, the Tooth Fairy, that sort of thing.

So, yeah, we have lots of fun conversations.

Most definitely not in Kansas anymore!

2010-09-23T09:31:00.002-04:00

Well, gee, where to begin? With the 12 hours of plane rides? BORING. With the craziness that is Iquitos? BORING. How about the birding and work? Sure, that sounds good!

I am in Peru, safe and (generally) sound. As I had written in my journal (and later put on here), I could not have predicted at all what it would be like down here. It is an el nino year, which means we are seeing much less rain than is normal. As in, nearly none. So, though I am in a rainforest, I have hardly seen much rain. We had a pretty ferocious storm about a week ago. And the rivers are s l o w l y beginning to rise again (they about 4-5 meters below normal height). Everyone is trying to manage down here, both the Peruvians and the tourists and researchers.

So, some quick facts about where I am. Duh, I'm in Peru (in South America, on planet Earth, in the Milky Way Galaxy). The town we are based out of is Iquitos, the largest city in the world (400.000) that you cannot drive to! The only access is by river, or by plane. It is near the junctions of the Nanay and Maranon, which form the Amazon river. Peru is shaped like a backwards facing block letter 'L', and we are in the top of the L. And for some more geography: the Amazon river has the equivalent water volume of the 5 largest rivers in the world COMBINED: Congo, Nile, Yang-tze, Ganges, and Mississippi. I haven't seen the actual Amazon yet, but I will.

My work down here involves examining the species composition of bird communities on white sand forest patches. These white sand patches appear in various areas in the 'jungle'. They are never flooded (terra firme) and have their own unique plant species that grow on them. And as a result, some of the birds are unique to these patches. The trees don't grow much higher than 15-25 meters, while in the clay forests, the trees grow upwards of 35-45 meters tall, or higher.

Our job involves setting up mist nets and banding the birds in the region. A good day will have us catch around 35 to 45 individuals, of various species. Above is a picture of me holding a chestnut woodpecker. We take blood samples of all the birds we can for population genetics, so that our boss can evaluate gene flow between the forest patches.

It's lots of fun! The crew will shift in size here and there (and we already lost one technician for personal reasons), but right now there are two Peruvians, one Argentinian, and four Americans. Plus our boss. So yes, my spanish, for the first time, is noticeably improving.

So it is hard to say what I love best about the job. I love that we have group meals every night and sit down 'family style' to eat dinner. Every night we have a 'pregunta de la noche', or question of the night, to help with conversation and learn more about each other. Right now, we all work together, all day, every day. We catch a wide variety of birds, many of which I have never seen before (so it makes for a great way to learn these new species, for when I see them free flying later). And of course, the rain forest being the rain forest, there are so many different and wonderful things to see, especially in the invertebrate (insects, spiders, etc) realm.

Of course, all this comes with a flip side, which I am dealing quite well with. We live in tents (though sheltered ones) in the field. No running water. No electricity. Egad, no internet! But of course I am used to all these things, so it's not that hard on me. I do miss the running water, or a decent stream to bathe in. I keep going back and forth on what place was hotter, Australia or here. I think here, if only because it's humid, and because the air does not really cool down at night (it drops to around 25 C at night, or high 70s) while in Australia I had much cooler nights.

And I am keeping to my resolution, of writing in my journal every night, and writing the highlight of the day for each day. And depending on the question of the night, I often write about that too, if only for some introspective. So, the highlights so far:

-I have added 38 new birds to my life list for the world (though I have seen more species, that just aren't new for the world). I do NOT count birds in the hand. I have others helping me find more now. I gave them the incentive of beer that I would buy when I get to 1.300 (31 birds away now), as well as beer when I get to 1.400. It is going kind of slow with the new birds, but I have yet to see a good mixed flock of birds, or find an army ant swarm with birds around it.

-My favorite new bird species so far? It's kind of hard, but I love all the different antbirds. Perhaps the Scale-breasted Woodpecker, or the White-tailed Trogon.

-We took a river trip up the Nanay River yesterday, to visit a conservation center. The work they do there (breeding certain butterfly species, and rehabbing and sheltering confiscated animals) is incredible. She had both an ocelot and a Jaguar that she was keeping. The Jaguar was stunted, because it was kept in a box when the person was trying to sell it. So, though it was about 100 kilos and 'full grown', it was still about 50 kilos smaller than it would have been! And seeing the animal, you realize how massive and strong it is. Oh, we were able to get much closer than you would in any zoo (and she had a nice large enclosure for it). Plus these animals should never be released in the wild anyway, for they have lost their fear of humans.

-walking through the Amazon rainforest.

-the wide variety of insects and other invertebrates.

-getting better (slowly but surely) at understanding spanish

So we leave for the field in another day or two, we expect. For photos of some of the things I have seen, please see the flickr link on the blog, and go to the Peru photo album.

I miss all of you, and though I am so glad I'm down here, I look forward to seeing and talking to many of you when I eventually get back stateside.

Thoughts entering Peru

2010-09-08T11:25:00.002-04:00

I have arrived in Peru safe and sound. I have a welcome couple of days off with the crew, while our boss takes care off different paperwork things for the project. We go back into the forest (Selva) tomorrow (well, back for the crew, first time for me). Iquitos is definitely a frontier type town. It will take some getting used to when I am here.

Anyway, I thought I would post (most) of my journal entry that I wrote on the plane on the way here.

6-7 September 2010.

Somewhere over the Atlantic/Gulf regions. On the way to Peru!

I feel much more relaxed about this than I expected. Perhaps I haven't had time to get jittery. Perhaps it is because this is the 4th time I've entered (well, 5th with the Aussie reentry) a foreign country in the past 16 months. Or maybe I'm too excited. Or because it sounds like my future boss helped put the entry at ease.

Whatever the reason, I have mixed feelings now about many things. I wonder how warm/hot it will really feel like. I am in disbelief I will be in the Amazon - the Amazon! - in about 12 hours. And my mind still hasn't wrapped itself around the fact I'll be seeing oodles of new birds soon. The goal is 1.400 world total before I leave - a "mere" 169 birds away.

I rarely have problems with coworkers, but I wonder what the crew will be like. I expect I'll be the oldest - but that no longer bothers me. I attribute that to having worked with Ryan twice - it is nothing to be ashamed of doing something you love. And my recent past employers have like my maturity.

I am glad for how off the grid we will be, save for one aspect. I spend far entirely too much time online when I have it - and this trip wreally will force long breaks. As always, I will be glad for no T.V. It really does seem to be too much of a distraction.

As much as I try to imagine what this job will be like - I can't. I have spent time in rainforests in Ecuador, in Costa Rica, in Australia. I look forward to my first view of the river. To the wildlife. To the heat, even. To just the experience.

I finally feel my typical writing skills are back. Maybe I need to stop being "photo heavy" in my blog. This is what the flickr site is for.

(next section deleted)

So, what birds and other wildlife do I expect? Well, I'm sure I'll see a new species of monkey. Some kind of toucan. Lots of antbirds and mannakins. A few hummers - not many, being the rainforest. Hopefully a new raptor or two. I would love a sungrebe or sunbittern.

So, lots of excitement to come. I will try very hard to be diligent, and write every day. Also to shoot a little video every week.

Wild Wyoming!

2010-09-04T21:25:00.019-04:00

Well, August became quite the busy month after my bird project was finished in Wyoming. When I was hired for the bird project, I had also been hired for some vegetation work, in Lodgepole Pine stands, for the remainder of the summer. This work was a combination of American Lynx habitat work, required by the US Forest Service under the endangered species act, and to examine the extent of pine beetle kill in the southern Wyoming and northern Colorado Lodgepole Pine Forests.

So, I, in other words, wasn't doing bird work. Which was fine by me. A new kind of work meant I would learn new things. Which always makes life interesting.

It was fun work, in it's way. It was very nice to work with people again! As much as I enjoyed the bird work and all the time I had to myself...after a while, I realized I wanted company again. Corny jokes, shorter drives, and funny stories were the order of the day, to help pass the time on the project.

And then I did a switcheroo...
For various reasons, I switched projects from the lodgepole project to a wetland delineation one. This project would involve backpacking, getting our feet wet (literally), remote areas, grizzly country, and great scenery. All the plots were around the Grand Teton National Park area, and I got to work with my "roommate" from the summer (though we rarely were at home base at the same time). I loved it!

Our first plots involved a boat ride across Jackson Lake, to the Moran Bay area. The photos above were of our first plot there, a marsh. It was sometimes hard to get work done, with such a wonderful backdrop! We got our plots done a little faster than we expected, so even did a bonus plot on the last day for extra data. Very wet feet were involved the whole time, as well as some Great Horned Owls calling and flying around camp, Bald Eagles, Ospreys, and various songbirds as well.

After we were finished, the boat came back to pick us up at our pre-arranged time and location. The weather was very pleasant, and offered some unparalleled views of the Teton range. This first is a view of the moon setting behind the Tetons the night we listened to and watched the owls:
The following is a composite image of the first marsh:
And the view of the Tetons from the boat on the way out:
From these plots, we spent a much deserved day restocking our larder and resting in beds! A strange thing for my field partner, who could count on two hands the number of nights he wasn't camping during the summer. Then, it was off to our first actual backpack (well, for me) to some plots near Survey Peak, on the west side of Grand Teton National Park.

We were more worn out more than we thought...it took much longer to walk the 10 miles than we thought it would. But nevertheless, we got to our plots fine, with only about a half mile of off trail walking. We saw some signs of bears, but nothing that made us too concerned. We made plenty of noise to make sure they knew we were coming. The plots up in that area went smoothly...well, the first three anyway (a marsh [photo 1], a fen [photo 2], and a wet meadow).
Then, we walked down to our last plot for the area. And we thought, uh oh. Moose or bear danger. The shrubs were too tall to see over, and too dense to see through. But after a short time, we realized that it was so dense, a bear or moose wouldn't even walk in it (and we never saw any sign that they did), and they would hear us and all the noise we made without any problem.
Then we walked out the next day. As difficult as the shrubland was, it wasn't nearly as bad as Ken's brilliant idea of a shortcut to avoid a short climb up a mountain, and instead going across the contour straight across the slopes. Yeah, I'm being sarcastic - it took us just as long. The reward was great scenery though.
Once we got back on the trail, we made PLENTY of noise. We had done so on the way up too. The reason? Bear bait. Also known as huckleberries. Though we enjoyed plenty as well.
From here, it was off to a single, lone plot next to lost lake. And then some much needed rest and relaxation in a bed again, in Jackson Hole this time. And then some fun.

In the interest of saving space on this blog, please check out photos on my flickr page, link on the right. We took a couple of days of "rest" in Yellowstone and Grand Teton National Parks, checking out different sites in the parks. Then, it was the final push, for me. We had a few short days to get the "wildcat peak" plots done. This area is east of Teton National Park, and south of Yellowstone National Park, in the Teton Wilderness. This was prime grizzly country, and though we never saw one, we saw plenty of signs. This is Ken next to a clawed tree...with a worried expression (on Ken, not the tree):
We finished our plots, and walked out. And I was finally done with my summer in Wyoming. For this year, anyway.
And so, from here, I embark on the next great adventure. PERU! I'm starting...um, no, that's not right. I've been excited for this for months. I'm just getting more and more amped up for the trip. There will be lots of new birds to see, and lots of adventures to be had.

Not that I'm counting the days...

2010-07-18T17:10:00.013-04:00

...but only around one and half months till I head to Peru! Woo hoo!

Since returning from Yellowstone, the order of the day was to get the last transects done. And in spite of a minor hiccup (well, major in some sense), they are all done now.

There were about 8 transects left to get done in just over a weeks time, with some help from my boss who was going to do a few. So I figured, no problem!

I had done an excellent job this year (notice the past tense...) of not getting stuck in snow or mud, in spite of all the rain. There were some dicey days in Thunder Basin National Grassland when it rained, once for about a day straight. But when the rain stopped, the roads became pretty easy to drive on. After that, I had a few transects in the Laramie Peak region, but it stayed nice and dry the whole time. Though I had to get pretty wet for one transect, fording a stream/river 8 times on my way in and out and during the transect. Actually, for the most part, the rain has been sporadic, and only once did it rain during a transect that I had to call it quits on it - and it was because the bird activity dropped right before the rain began, not because it was actually raining.

Well, with only a few transects left, and oodles of afternoon time, I took the scenic route to one of my transects. And (finally?) got stuck. In dirt though, not mud, which actually made it harder (the rear wheel struts got buried into dirt and sod about a foot deep). So, I hit the "HELP" button, help arrived, and we eventually got the truck out. I did my transect the next day, and then decided my body needed a few days to recover, so I headed back to Laramie.

I consider that a minor hiccup, but it took a lot more work than we thought to get the truck out. But, thankfully, the rest of the transects went smoothly, and I was even able to enjoy some nice scenery to help break up the monotony and the drives. And some fun wildlife too.

In the Snowy Range west of Laramie, I was keeping my eye out for moose, because I had seen one on one of my drives out from a transect (but was unable to get a photo). And lo and behold, in the same willow patch, she was there again!
That was the day I got stuck. Due to the amount of snow they got this winter, along with the late season snowstorm in June along with frequent rain, I had a transect to do that had a "minor" road closure issue. One reason I got stuck was that I was exploring different ways to access the transect. The following is a fantastic illustration of a "dip in the road":
The open stretch is about 100 feet wide. The part of the road that was near my transect was almost to this point. I could see cracks in the road near my transect, and also sections along the downhill side had collapsed. Needless to say, I trod very carefully. And possibly due to my lack of sleep the night before, or just getting used to seeing them, I saw a black bear while at my first point about 40 meters away, and I don't think my heart rate went up very much. I seem to be having this knack for seeing those animals (and FYI: when I am working or alone, my first thought is always SAFETY, not photos of the bear).

So, after I finished that transect, it was back to Laramie to rest and recover, and wouldn't you know it, my housemate was actually not in the field! I actually had company for the weekend! So we made the most of it. Rodeo, street dancing, and beer tasting, all in downtown Laramie. It was a fun way to recover from what is now known as "Michael's Fiasco."

I began the training for the next part of my job out here on Monday (I will be doing habitat measurement for Lynx), then I was able to leave on Tuesday afternoon to wrap the bird transects up. Awesome scenery, and thankfully not a huge distance of driving, though one transect took about an hour to get to, though it was only about 6 miles in on a dirt road (the road was in pretty poor shape).

From Centennial Ridge, a view of the Snowy Range:
So from there, I had a longish drive to my next transect, BUT, I had already scouted the transect about 3 weeks earlier, to check on the river height (I had to ford a river to get to it). So I could take my time, and I did. The photo at the beginning of this post is Lake Marie, with Medicine Bow Peak as a backdrop. Just below this lake was the following cascade, Lake Marie Falls:
Incidentally, I could tell there would be nice fishing there. I could see the trout in the stream and the lake! I had a nice time up there, and it was a good place for a picnic lunch since it was cool (about 50 degrees F), a little breezy to keep the mosquitoes away, and just plain pretty. Then I headed to my next transect, and for the first time in a while, I wasn't driven batty by mosquitoes. And I got to enjoy a sunset over my transect. And relish the aspen groves, the first and only transect I have done that was dominated by them at nearly every point.
This transect also gave me a fantastic view, and photo opportunity, of a female Dusky Grouse at a point. Probably because she had a few chicks in the area, that I also spooked up.
And I of course took pictures of the wildflowers, many of which are coming into full flower now. Since I have to identify shrubs and trees on my transects, I have been provided with a plant book for the summer for identification aid (funny, though, that the oak you see in the above photo didn't make it in). So I have been able to take my time to identify the flowers in my spare time. The following are Mule's Ears (Wyethia amplexicaulis); Colorado Columbine (Aquilegia coerulea); and Monument Plant or Green Gentian (Frasera speciosa):
And so, day to day, the transects were getting done. Unlike the crew here last year, I have lucked out INCREDIBLY in being able to get nearly all the points done on every transect. The weather has been much more cooperative. And so, on Saturday morning around 10 am, I was all done:
Some summaries. The life birds during my bird work, in order [W means world life bird, so new for me completely; US means new for the United States, but I had seen it before elsewhere, like Mexico]: Harris' Sparrow (W); Clay-colored Sparrow (W); White-winged Junco (species not new, but the subspecies is) (W); Red-necked Phalarope (W); Long-billed Curlew (US); Mountain Plover (US); American Three-toed Woodpecker (W); and Red-naped Sapsucker (US). Two additional new birds were in Yellowstone, Barrow's Goldeneye (W) and Trumpeter Swan (W).

I also saw a few new mammals, including Moose, Badger, and Mountain Lion (I still can't believe that one!).

So, that's my report for now. I am modifying this blog site, so that you can subscribe to it, as well as getting some web links on it. More specifically, the links to my flickr photo pages (that have many more photos of these trips) and some of the other places I have worked, or will be working (such as Bosque del Rio Tigre Lodge in Costa Rica, which has a great on-line newsletter).

There is no superlative that will work

2010-07-06T15:22:00.021-04:00

"Awesomely Awesome" is the closest I can come to describing my holiday weekend (America's 4th of July/Independence Day weekend, to my foreign friends)
Four day car rental: 110 dollars.
Gasoline: 50 dollars.
Backpack, sleeping bag, tent, and other camping gear: 1.000 dollars
Stove, stove fuel, camp pot, and food: 100 dollars
Cameras and GPS unit: 1.000 dollars.

Walking 22 miles of wilderness in Yellowstone National Park on a holiday weekend and seeing nobody. At all.

PRICELESS.

It was a legen...

...wait for it...

...keep waiting...

...here it comes...

...almost there...

...DARY hike. Legendary. I believe I was saying the word "epic" a lot (and using it to label things on my GPS as well) the third day. Just fantastic views and solitude. That third day (July 4th) had some of the best hiking I've EVER had, for views and everything. A day to day summary.

Day 1. July 2, 2010. "Getting In"

I only hiked around 2 miles that day. But this was preceded by about 8 hours of driving. One doesn't realize how big the west is, or how LARGE Yellowstone National Park is, until one needs to get to the West Yellowstone area, from Laramie (and I did some driving the day before, on the 1st of July). I had a guidebook that I chose my hike from. I needed a 3-4 night hike, preferably with mountains and nice things to see. My first option was a little used area in the northwest corner of the park (in Montana). My second choice was near the South Entrance along the Snake River. I chose the northwest hike because the Snake River loop would involved multiple river fords, and the river was running still kind of high. And fording a river (not a creek or stream a full blown river) alone was not high on my list of risky moves I wanted to take. Plus, it didn't sound quite as scenic, or as isolated (i.e. fewer people). Anyway, I digress. After filling out my backcountry permits, watching the backcountry safety video, and getting to the trailhead, I headed in. I think it was about 3pm.

Just the walk in was pleasant, and I was able to see some new things almost right away. It was nice to have a short walk to my first camp, and be able to relax and admire the scenery. And watch for wildlife. I had plenty of bird life to keep me amused as well. Not much else to say about that day.

Day 2. July 3, 2010 "Decision made, & bird number 1.230 [world]/431[North America]"

Wilderness hikes, no matter where I have taken them, have always offered me the opportunity to clear my mind, sort through things in my head that need sorting, and just contemplate everything and nothing (I stare off into space a lot when I am resting on a backpack trip). This trip also purposefully had very modest mileage goals: 2 miles, 5 miles, 5 miles, and then 10 miles (on the way out). Short mileage meant lots of free time in camp to admire and contemplate.

The walk this second day was lots of fun. Overall the hike had very moderate hills. Or maybe it seemed that way after the transects I had been doing for work! I really was able to enjoy the hiking, enough so that I often forgot I had a 40 pound pack on. I pause often for photo opportunities, of nature and me in nature. First, Yellow Columbine, and then me before I cross a stream.
From the stream crossing, I hiked the switchbacks up the hill, and the trail eventually flattened out to come to my camp, next to the lake you saw in the early photos. Awesome reflections.

After I was there for a little while, I realized there were some ducks on the water! They had been hanging out on the rocky shore on the other side, and had also been hiding among the logs and trees surrounding the lake. The bird nut that I am, I of course had my binoculars (thank god I invested in the lightweight pair!). So I watched for a while. And it dawned on me: this might be the species of Goldeneye I haven't seen yet! There are two species of Goldeneye in North America: common and barrow's. I didn't have my field guide with me (I rely on sketches and notes, to look up when I get out); but when I got back to my car on the 5th, I discovered it was Barrow's Goldeneye I was watching. And I was pretty sure this was new (I had to get back to Laramie to know for sure). So yup, without even thinking I would see a new duck on the trip, I did. I had been hoping for new bird, namely a ptarmigan or a rosy-finch, but I never got up to the right altitude for them. I'll take the duck, though! An added bonus.

The nice thing with such leisurely hiking is that I don't have to leave camp early (I think I left camp 1 around 9am), and I get to my next camp at lunch time. So I had my lunch. Packed my stuff in my pack and hung it (bear safety), and just relaxed. And thought.

I had a minor personal dilemma I had been mulling over for a while. [no, it's none of your business]. The quiet and solitude are what I needed to reach the decision. And now I can move on. And I felt (and feel) better for it.

And then I wandered around. Took pictures (still working on the photo stitching for the lake reflections). Admired the ducks. Set up camp. Collected firewood. I don't normally build a fire...but it was going to be a cool night, and a campfire is nice to be next to when writing in my personal journal and watching the light fade over the lake.

Which is one thing I had to get used to. I was farther north, much so, than where I work. So I still had quite a bit of light at around 10pm, and the sun was shining quite well at 5am as well. Times like that made me think I could be hiking 15-20 miles a day if I so chose. But I learned a few years ago to choose not to.

Day 3. 4 July 2010. "EPIC" "AWESOMELY AWESOME"

I foresaw that this day would be offering me some nice views, and some snow (on the trail), but nothing prepared me for what I saw. Also for the first time, I successfully did some route finding. Thanks again for the GPS Mom and Dad! It helped a lot!

So, from Crescent Lake (where my camp was), the trail meandered through some forest and slowly up some hills. It crossed a few meadows here and there. I always remember when I came upon them, to talk aloud to myself and clap my hands here and there. For the uninitiated: bear attacks occur generally when you surprise a bear. So the rule is, don't be quiet. But don't be loud and obnoxious either, or the bear may attack out of spite. Or another hiker will. Little joke. Ha ha. To continue:
I really enjoy this kind of hiking! From this point on the trail, I knew that the trail "disappeared". Not completely, but it climbed a bit from this point, and was going over terrain that still had snow in patches, as well as mostly rocky soil. So lack of trees meant there wasn't much to put trail markers on. So, off trail navigation, there I went! And as I hiked higher and higher, I got more and more distracted. I knew from my map that I had to hike to the highest point on the ridge, then turn southeast and follow the edge of the cliffs to the next trail.

I got more and more distracted because the views kept getting better and better. You can see by the grin on my face I was having an awesomely awesome time (my new favorite phrase). I believe I labeled this point on my GPS as "Epic":
That meadow you see below and behind me is what I would walk out next to and through the last day (and saw lots of wolf tracks in).

And yet, I was still getting higher and higher on the ridge, until eventually I saw the National Park Boundary marker sign (one of quite a few, though I can't imagine anyone coming up the cliff/scree slope). And then I turned around. And labeled the GPS point "more epic":
[this is a photo merge from five shots. actual photo is 1 foot tall by 5.5 feet wide]. I was blown away. As I said, there are no words to describe how wonderful the view was.

And for the next mile, I got to enjoy this view for quite some time. Plus others to my north, where the cliff dropped off. And I got to walk over a bit of snow as well. And admire the fields of glacier lilies (in order: cliff view, snow pack, and lilies).
And as you can see from this last photo, I successfully found the next section of trail, and continued on to camp. And had my usual routine of lunch, enjoy the scenery, and get camp ready. And did my usual stare off into space and zone out and relax thing. For the first time though, I got my tent up kind of early, since it looked like it might rain. And put the rain fly on. I'm glad I did, since it did rain. I somehow made dinner between rainshowers, and realized I didn't want to leave the next day. But duty called, so I had to.

Day 4. 5 July 2010. "Back to 'civilization' "

Well, after all the work I had been doing this past year, I made really good time on the hike out! It helped it was all downhill. And that at least 2 miles was in a burn area (recent, not the 1988 fire), so there wasn't much to see except for burned trees. I did get to track wolf tracks for a while...I never realized how big their paw prints were.
I think they were tracking a moose. There were also some very large hoofprints on the trail, which were much too large for deer, and I think too large for elk, either. The hoof tracks were more scattered than the wolf tracks, but I saw both sets of tracks in the same sections of trail. I had tracks on the trail for quite some time.

I also got to enjoy watching those always personable birds, juncos, feed a very old youngster. And I also found a nest of a sparrow along the trail as I walked.
And when I got to about one mile from the trail head, I saw my first large mammal that wasn't a mule deer (which I didn't see OFTEN, but often enough that they weren't a big deal). And as you can tell by how small it is in the photo, this is how far I WANTED it to be while I was hiking alone.That dark object mid picture is a black bear, just doing it's thing in the woods. It was actually only a hundred meters or so away from the camp I stayed at the first night, that I had to walk near on my way out. And such, ended my very enjoyable trip through part of Yellowstone National Park.

I hiked alone in an area I was no longer top on the food chain...I wasn't even in the top 3! I visited a new state. I saw a new bird species. I saw awesome views. I didn't see any people until I got to the trail head. I did my first successful route find. I had campsites all to myself. I actually packed too much food.

I had a great, fun, awesome, stupendous, terrific, great, and there just aren't enough words to describe the time I had. I can't wait to go back. I leave you with my parting view of the area I hiked:

Catch up...

2010-07-06T14:47:00.008-04:00

I had meant to get a post up before my most recent trip away from work, but life interfered. As usual. My boss had gone up to do some field work near Devil's Tower in north Wyoming, so I had to get my planning done without her, as well as to make sure my safety net was in place. And to let my safety net know what my plan was, and when I would be checking in. Anyway...

The last set of transects weren't killer. But I think it included two of the three hardest transects to do. I had fun anyway, and got lots of great views! Some cooler air was involved too, because for the first time I was having transects get above 9.200 feet (about 3.000 meters). The two transects were hard because of the slopes involved, and in one case because of the amount of deadfall in one area. One was in a V-shaped canyon, and one side of the canyon had about 50% or more dead and down wood (trees), on a slope that was 50 to 60 percent. Fun times! The other one was just on a steep slope. I realized how "in shape" I was upon completion of these two transects: 30 of the 32 points done. One point I ran out of time to do, and one point the birds had quieted down too much - at 9:30! (A bit early for them, but it WAS a warm sunny day).

The first transect (that of the steep slope variety) was fun because I had to do some exploring for it. Though the transects were done last year, the crew last year decided to hike from an established trail BELOW the transect. Which meant a 1 km walk up a 1.000 foot slope. I decided that wasn't going to be my cup of tea, especially since the top of the transect was at the crest of that huge hill. So I decided to do some plotting with my GPS software beforehand, and follow an old log access road to see if I could have an easier time getting to the transect. Lo and behold, it worked. So my reward?
A nice little siesta since I got there so early. And yes, that is a beard. It helps with dealing with mosquitoes. It'll be gone before I go to Peru.

The other thing I love about walks in the woods, especially when the hike isn't far (about 3.5 km) and I have PLENTY of time, is that I can admire some of the smaller wildlife around.
So, the next day was transect time, and boy, was I treated to some great views. Note the degree of slope I'm on in the second photo. I still can't believe they chose to hike UP that to the transect - for 1.000 feet, no less!
And from there, it was off to more transects. I did a little bit of exploring here and there, namely places on the way to the next transect. More of the same and usual scenery, though I was not in any way getting tired of it. I did have some minor adventures getting to the next transect, because of trees fallen across the road. And I didn't have a chain saw, or a bow saw (not something I foresaw needing). So, I had to go the LOOOOONG way around. It took about 3 hours to drive to the transect that was about 5 miles away from where I turned around. Thankfully I get paid for my time driving, and I have my iPod and radio adapter to keep the tunes flowing. And plenty of gorgeous scenery to enjoy.

So, I did two transects in the Snowy Range, then I headed back into the Sierra Madre to do two more over there. Lots of fun, and the last plot (of the V-canyon) got me some new birds for the season. I saw and heard my first Pine Grosbeaks of the season (and this was only the 3rd time I have ever seen them). I also had my first Golden-crowned Kinglets of the season.

While out in the Sierra Madre, I got to wondering what I might do with some time off. My boss emphasized (strongly) that I should take some time to myself, since I had accumulated serious overtime (and had been working hard) because my coworker left. Upon my return to Laramie, we realized we had eight transects left to do in 17 days. Since she and a colleague were going to take four of them total to take some of the work load off (and so they could enjoy field time too!), it meant I could take a break from bird surveys for a while. Just in time for the holiday weekend, too.

And eventually, I decided that even if no one was around to join me, I would head up to Yellowstone for some new scenery, and solitude, and fun. So I did.

One of my BEST. DAYS. EVER.

2010-06-23T18:17:00.005-04:00

I really do love my job!

The most recent jaunt into the woods was a short one. The way transects are located, I had a few scattered farther away from other plots. And also, since my coworker quit, I wanted a short trip to stay energized and pace myself well.

So, Friday, I headed to the Pole Mountain area east of Laramie to do the lone transect over there. A nice pleasant transect to do. And scenery there was incredible. And for the first time in a while, I was able to get all 16 points of my transect done (and done by 9 am, no less!). No weather issues (except being kind of cold) for once. No rain, and the wind stayed relatively calm for the morning (meaning it stayed below 15 mph). Here's a shot of camp at dinner time - with the calmer winds, I prefer to sleep in a tent. It's more comfortable.
From Pole mountain on Saturday morning, I headed west, through Laramie, to go into the Snowy Range to do the first transects in there. Since the weather has FINALLY dried up a bit, rivers have gone down (though the Laramie River is still in flood stage), and the roads have dried, which is more important for me, for access. Sometimes, when I drive these roads, I feel like I'm in a truck commercial. I got to the next transect fine, took my short siesta, made camp, and went to bed. The next day, I did my survey, and once again, I got nearly all the points done - 15 of the 16 - before 9:30. The only reason I didn't do the last point was because the bird activity had died down, which may have been a result of the winds that were pushing 20 mph plus.

Then it was off to my next transect. The usual routine, find a place to camp, take siesta, enjoy the view (the first photo), and get ready for the next day. Which brings us to one of my Best. Days. Ever.
The transect was what I would consider below average for difficulty, meaning pretty easy. Very little in the line of slopes, most of the vegetation was sage shrubland. I was getting a nice variety of birds, so all was going well.

Near one of my last points, as I was walking to my next point, I heard a very deep hooting (think owl, but really really really deep). I knew it was a Dusky (formerly Blue) Grouse male displaying, likely on log. And it sounded very close. So, I peeked around the tree, and lo and behold, there he was! And because I was moving so fast in my transect, I had the time to set my gear down, take my camera out, and stalk him a little bit. He wasn't too nervous, and so eventually he afforded me some good photo ops (though the light was not at a perfect angle).

This was just the beginning of a great day. Grouse are just very leery, so having the chance to watch one display (they open the feathers on their neck to expose a bare patch of skin, pretty cool to see) up close, and even get photos of it (he was behind the log when he displayed when I had my camera out, so I didn't get shots of the display) was a great treat.

From there, it was time to finish the transect, and again I got all 16 points done - I like this trend. Then it was back to the truck to get things packed, eat some snacks and lunch, and head back to Laramie for some more time 'off' (for me, just not being in the field, doing office stuff), but I decided, since we were running into snowpack issues in places, I would scout two transects to see if I could get into them yet.

On the drive out, I saw my first black bear of the season run off the road! Those of you who know of my work in the Sierra Nevada in California, know I seem to have a knack for seeing oodles of bears (and yes, oodles is a scientific term). The suspense of seeing the first one was killing me! It ran off pretty quick, so no photos, but still, that made for large mammal in Wyoming number six (after Elk, Moose, Antelope, Mule Deer, and White-tail Deer. Number seven if you count the badger as a large mammal).

As I was nearing the trail access for one of my future transects, I had stopped the truck to check my map and my GPS location. I looked out the front windshield. And saw a large tan body go across the road about 150 meters ahead, with a long tail. And I said to myself, no way. No way. NO WAY! It just ambled across the road...so I slowly drove closer (there was no way in hell I was gonna follow on foot!) to where it went into the woods. And yep, I got myself another new mammal species. My first ever MOUNTAIN LION. Or COUGAR. Or PUMA. Whatever you call it, it was AWESOME! It even afforded me some good looks while it was tracking something among the trees. I was in awe - I would consider this one of the hardest wild animals to see in North America.

Of course, my only concern now is - it was about 1/2 mile from my trail head that I head to walk on tomorrow (Thursday). Gonna be keeping my eyes peeled! (for safety and photo opportunities).

And yet, that wasn't even the last good thing that day - though by far it was the best thing that day. Maybe for the summer (but I expect to go to Yellowstone in about 1 weeks time, so we shall see...). When I got back to Laramie, and the much needed shower and beer, I even had some surprise money waiting for me in my mailbox! Thanks again (you know who you are). A small contribution to my Peru travel fund always helps.

So, that's it. Part V of my work here begins tomorrow. Backpacking. River crossings. And hopefully more wonderful wildlife encounters are in store.

I was very happy Monday. Hell, I seem to be riding a happiness high that doesn't seem to be ending in the foreseeable future. YEEEEEEE HAWWWWWWW!

Personal Journal Entry, June 5, 2010

2010-06-08T16:03:00.010-04:00

For those who care, I hiked in along the Roaring Fork trail in Medicine Bow National Forest. GPS location of camp: projection 13, datum NAD83: 462584, 4683912

Some of the references: I worked in the Sierra Nevada in 2003, 2005, 2006. I hiked in Sequioa National Park in 2006, in Crater Lake National Park in 2005. SEKI refers to Sequioa-Kings Canyon National Parks. CT refers to the Colorado Trail, a 200 mile hike I did in August 2004. Errors are as they are written in the journal. Pictures represent a break/change in my thought pattern.

5 June 2010

Medicine Bow National Forest
north of Laramie Peak

I. Love. My. Job! In spite of the some of the long days I've had here - only because of the driving - I can't believe I get paid for this!

The point counts in Medicine Bow are a bit more exciting and scenic than the grasslands. For one, there is more topography! I love these mountains! I'm reminded of so many places the past few days. The Sierra Nevada. The southern cascades. Crater Lake National Park. The Rockies in Colorado.

I especially feel a kinship to my trips through Sequoia National Park and Crater Lake National Park. I have a cozy campfire going, for one. The formations of rock and the riparian areas for two and three.

And the lack of human sounds. On the hike here, I would see the dirt tracks of old forest roads - but it is hard to tell if they are even in use. I've been at camp for near 5 hours - and I have just sat and relaxed. A little like SEKI, but I'm not in as gorgeous scenery. But I can't always be.

I've been reflecting on the past year or so, and all the places I've been, and the people I've met. It has been an incredible time! I think of the wonderful people in NZ during my tramps, especially the group my age at the first hut in Nelson Lakes, and what a comfort that hut was. The couple in the second hut (hopeless). Mason Bay hut and all the folks. The Rakiura Track. Some of the hostel folks. My coworkers in Australia. Maine and Adrienne and the gang from Maine Coastal Islands NWR. Missouri. Costa Rica and all the different guests. Panama.

Wow.

And here - wow again. the hike today, though gruelling in the first stretch, was great. To think that I had to hike for work is incredible. The transect isn't overly remote - but I can feel my body really beginning to "chillax" and sort thru things mentally. I have no book to distract me, the camp chores got done in their time. And I'm just waiting for the sun to set enough, but in the meantime I'm enjoying my little fire.

Perfect. No other word describes this moment as adequately as that.

The only thing I do miss is the right company. During the hike, I thought of people in my past. The only perfect hiking partners I've had were Dave Rios and Jacob Cowan from my WIFL work in 2003 (wow? was it really that long ago?).

Jacob by far was as perfect a packing partner as I could have asked for. Right pace. Great guy to work with. Relaxed like me about the bird work (I'm not sure if that's the right way to put it, but anyway - )

Dave was fun too, if only for catching dinner. It's hard to describe just what was perfect about all that - conversations? Appreciation of everything outside?

The scenery of this job, and the terrain, are different (of course) of anything else I've had, work or otherwise. The rock faces are steep, but don't seem as bad as the Sierra Nevada. They seem more "rounded." But, the areas I've driven through recently have had a lot of glacier erratics - it's a different scene from what I recall from Yosemite and areas.

I even feel at times like areas are similar to those long-ago trips to the thousand islands. Of course, these riparian environs are way different from there. And I know now, of course, all the birds by song. Which I realize now is giving me a better understanding of the biology/ecology of these areas.
Today I got one of the best looks, or perhaps the best look, at Red Crossbills. Sometimes, just watching birds "do their thing" is fun. And I know that is why I enjoy guiding so much. Many a time I could give someone that moment, plus the thrill of having someone get a new bird because of me is exciting.
Sometimes I amaze myself and the amount of bird calls and songs I know. I can hear just a smidgen of a song, or a single call, and I can identify to species 90%+ of the time. I can even do this in the areas of Costa Rica I've frequented. It's hard to believe - and yet I still keep learning more.

I got to thinking the other day of what my top wilderness experiences were. In no particular order:

-Dive on great barrier reef. Fish in front of my eyes. Up close and real! Hearing and seeing terns by the hundred in a colony, as well as diving in the water. Nothing has topped all that.

-Karori wildlife sanctuary. Only for being able to see so much native NZ bird life. And somewhat close as well.

-My first bear encounter. Only for the fear/realization that I wasn't tops on the food chain. And because I had never seen a bear in the wild. And I was alone.

-My bear encounter with Jacob.

-My entire trip to Ecuador. I wasn't doing "serious" listing yet. Ecuador started it.

-The first day in Ecuador. Seeing an antpitta, and having no idea what it was. Seeing the trogon on the trail. Priceless. I knew then I was in a whole new environment.

-Coyotes in Mexico.

-Kangaroos at Wallaby Creek.
My favorite spots/moments:
-Columbine Lake, SEKI
-Lightning Spring (?), Crater Lake National Park
-[removed for personal reasons]
-the view from the areas near bowers 27 and 33 [above picture]
-this moment in Medicine Bow
-Edge of Lost Creek Wilderness, CO
-First look at a Jocotoco Antpitta
-First look at a toucan
-Triple life birds in 5 seconds: Aracari, Chachalaca, and Chestnut-Mandibled Toucan. All close enough for photos.
-coming along the pass on the CT near Copper Mountain. The moment when I knew the hill was done.
-New Years Eve 2009 - New Years Day 2010.

Mountain Adventures, part I

2010-06-08T15:47:00.003-04:00

Wow, what a change the past week had. No longer did I have too many Lark Buntings too count on every point. No longer was I being distracted by the numerous Western Meadowlarks singing on every point.

But also, no longer did I have those easy flat grassland transects to walk anymore. Up and down hills, there I went!

All in all, it was a very pleasant change. I didn't realize how fit I had been getting till I got to my first transect. In spite of the serious elevation change from point to point (my first 4 points went up about 1.000 feet total, in 750 meters of horizontal distance), I got my transect done quite fast, I thought. I did have some fun river crossings for that first one too. Thankfully, New Zealand (and McCloud, CA in 2005 and 2006) gave me plenty of experience to draw on for that. The water was still cold, though!

And I have been able to get some new birds as well! I didn't realize until I checked my list when I got home yesterday, but when I saw an American Three-toed Woodpecker about 17m away on my fourth point on Friday, it was a new bird for the US, and the world! Then yesterday, though I had been hearing Red-naped Sapsuckers on a few points, I finally found one to look at right after my last point was done. That made bird number 430 for the US. The American Three-toed Woodpecker was number 429 for the US, and number 1.229 for the world.

The best part of this recent jaunt into the Laramie Mountain range (northeast of Laramie) was the backpack trip I had to do - for work! Yep, I got paid to go hiking in the woods! The transect was about a 5 mile hike (about 3 hours of walking, with numerous pauses) in from the nearest road, so the most efficient use of time, so one doesn't have to walk in the dark, is to walk in the night before.

This was one of the reasons I signed up for this job.

After that transect, I headed to my next one (a long drive away, though only 20 miles or so as the raven flies), got that done, and came back to Laramie.

I can't really adequately describe how much I enjoyed that backpack trip. So my following post will be from my personal journal entry from that night in camp (June 5).

Have a good one all!

And now, for the mountains!

2010-06-03T13:16:00.006-04:00

Well, it was a busy couple of weeks I had. Looking on my most recent post, it has been longer than I planned on getting another one up. Attribute that to long drives between transects, which should not necessarily be the case anymore.

I got all my grassland transects done, in Thunder Basin National Grassland. There are still a couple of transects left that will have grassland type birds, but these will be at a higher elevation, so there will be a slightly different mix of birds to be seen and heard.

Thunder Basin, all in all, was fun. I was able to get three new birds out if it, no less! I saw my first Red-necked Phalarope in the world near one of my plots, when I was doing some leisure birding looking for new birds. With the help of the landowners for one of my plots, I was able to see my first Long-billed Curlew in the United States on their land. Finally, on my last transect in the grassland, I found my first Mountain Plover in the United States. Both the curlew and the plover I had seen before, in Mexico. But my US list now stands at 429 species (I think).

The landowners for that area were incredibly kind. There was a little more rain than usual this spring on the grassland, so the water table is high. They were kind enough to show me how to get to the plot on an ATV, and let me use the ATV the next day to get to the plot, so that I wouldn't tear up the land with my truck. On top of that, they fed me dinner (yum yum) the night before I did the transect, and fed me lunch the day of the transect. It was a nice change from the usual PB and J I had every day! It was a pleasant break from all the camping.

Then, the day long storm came. It made driving very icky, such that I couldn't even get to one of my plots, even on improved gravel roads! So I drove all day to the other side of the grassland, where it was drier: a relative term, because it was still raining over there too! But the next day was the only day I couldn't do a transect, because there was WAY too much wind!

But the day after that, I had a very pleasant night.

It was my first nearly windless night in a week. And the view (in spite of the oil wells) from up there was fantastic! And it was a nice change, sleeping in the tent, instead of in the truck. I can make a flat bed in the truck, but the tent does feel more comfortable. Just an overall really relaxing night, which was what I needed for the home stretch.

From here, it was off to the last few transects, and to help train the other technician who began work that week. My last transect (with the Mountain Plover) was a great one to end on. Slightly different mix of birds, because there was a prairie dog town right in the middle, and a riparian cottonwood stand. And it was finally warmish, such that I needed on less layer of clothes. Of course, this meant that I had to be aware of something that I nearly forgot was out there:

It gave me a bit of a fright, but, well, that's nature for ya! I'd rather deal with bears than snakes, overall, only because bears have a harder time hiding underfoot.

From there, it was the exciting rocking trip back to Laramie, and get some much needed chores done. But not before another exciting animal on the way home:

This was not the first badger I ever saw, but rather the third. The first, unfortunately, was roadkill the second day of the trip. The second was looking for food near one of my plots the day it was raining, so the pictures didn't turn out all that well. But this little character didn't seem to mind us too much, while it took care of digging out its burrow.

Laramie provided the much needed chores and rest and relaxation. From here, it is off to the mountains! The Laramie mountain range, to be precise, about an hours drive from town here, and then another hour or more on dirt roads. Woo hoo! I'm also excited because at least one plot I have to backpack in for, which is one of the reasons I signed up for this job.

I hope all is well with everyone. I'll try to make sure I have a post up as soon as I get back...this trip will not nearly be as long as the last one (plan is only for 3 nights).

Wide. Open. Spaces.

2010-05-21T16:24:00.006-04:00

Sometimes, not only am I a mere speck in the universe, but also a mere speck on the landscape. Look in the following photo.
Just above center, to the right of the two dark spots (Juniper trees), is my tent, and truck. I'm about 1 kilometer away from it in this photo.

How awesome is that? Of course, there was a minor adventure getting out.

I knew going in that there was a chance of rain in the forecast. But, there was an equal chance it would rain any of the next few days, and it had been staying somewhat dry. So, I went in, and all was ok. But I had a thunderstorm for about 30 minutes last night, which turns the ground into gumbo.

I managed to get out all right. But I think the truck could use a cleaning. Also notice that the mud sticks to the tires. So driving n the mud, without traction...always fun. At least the two track was kind of flat. Unlike some drivers, I'm not afraid to get an SUV dirty!

But I really enjoy these wide open spaces. At camp last night, I really felt all alone. I would guess the nearest person was about 5 miles away. At least it seemed that way.

That's all for now. The weather seems to be cooperating so far. I hope it cooperates for the next few days as well.

Accomplishing Dreams....

2010-05-18T18:45:00.002-04:00

It's weird to think back on things.

When I left high school, and later college, the world (to me) was just opening up. Airline travel was becoming easier and cheaper. I was learning travel as a whole wasn't all that expensive if you knew how to do it.

I think of all the things that as I have gotten older, I have wanted to do.

Scuba Dive on a coral reef. Check.

See mainland Australia. Check.

Bunjee Jump. Check.

Visit the following places: Mountain West of the United States, Hawaii, California, Redwoods, Sequoias, Grand Canyon, Death Valley, Desert Southwest. Check, check, check, check, check, check, check, and check!

As my birdwatching has grown, and my aspirations have grown, numerous places have been added. And of course I have wanted to expand my ever-lengthening life list of birds.

Cloud Forest. Check (Costa Rica, Ecuador, Panama)
Rainforest. check (Costa Rica, Ecuador)

I recall coming back from Ecuador, and wondering where my world checklist stood. And when I was tallying them up in my free time in Southern California...I discovered how high it was!

Between Mexico, various areas of the United States, Australia, a brief trip to NZ (by that time), Hawaii, and Ecuador, and a short trip (15 days) to Costa Rica, I was sitting at around 800 birds at that point. I think at that point (April 2008) you could say I started to get serious about the listing.

900: June of 2008
1.000: December of 2008 (a mere 6 months later)
1.100: April of 2009 (a mere 4 months later).
1.200: December of 2009.

I don't get many new birds, world list or US list, while I am in the US, though Wyoming, where I am now, may get me a few.

But of course, one of the must-do things on my "need to go before I die", is to visit the Amazonian rainforest. And as calm and well prepared as i feel for it, I still can't believe I will be visiting - and working! - in it in a little over 3 months times. And I hope to get around 400 new species of birds. Which just seems unreal.

I couldn't do it without the support of my family and friends. So once again, thank you!

Snowstorms, Life Birds, Job Offers...just a typical field work week!

2010-05-15T15:17:00.003-04:00

Well, the first week out here shaped up to be really interesting. All that I had hoped for and more! I guess I'll start at the beginning, always a good idea, eh?

I arrived in Laramie on Friday night. Saturday was the normal first food shopping of the field season trip, where I dropped nearly 300 dollars on food and supplies. But I think I might be good for a little while. Then Monday my boss and I left Laramie bright and early to head to South Dakota for training and a general "bird nerd gathering."

The weather on the way wasn't all that pleasant, so we weren't able to enjoy the views all that much. It caused us some concern for the training, but a long term weather forecast boded well for the end of the week. I'll get there in a minute.

Our training was on a nice little reserve, Whitney Preserve, located in the Black Hills of South Dakota. The land is owned the The Nature Conservancy. We did our training first in Custer, SD. My boss and I didn't realize that we had passed Mount Rushmore on the way there, otherwise we would have taken a quick stop to look. Though with the lousy weather, it is hard to say whether we would have seen it or not. I digress. Following our training in Custer, we all headed to the reserve for a general gab fest and dinner, and making camp (well, a few of us anyway).

Daylight hours are already getting kind of long, so in spite of the cold and the rain, some of us got out to bird. This was actually somewhat work related, because the best way to learn bird songs is to, well, be outside to learn them! Within 5 minutes of stepping out to bird, I was stoked.

World bird number 1.226, North America Bird Number 426: Harris' Sparrow!
World bird number 1.227, North America Bird Number 427: Clay-colored Sparrow!

I hadn't even realized the Clay-coloreds were so abundant there. I hadn't seen them before, and because they are wintering down here still, I didn't have them on my study list. Apparently, though, they like to sing their heads off! Not quite breeding grounds frequency, but fairly often. So once I learned their song, I realized they were everywhere.

Coming here to Wyoming, I had a list of about 7 birds that I was hoping to see that would be new for the world and/or North America. These two weren't even on that list! So I'm already ahead of the game. Woo hoo! [for the curious: McCown's Long Spur (world), Chestnut-collared Longspur (US), American Three-toed Woodpecker (World), Long-billed Curlew (US), Mountain Plover (US), Virginia's Warbler (World), and Sage Sparrow (World)].

The next day was more training, mostly getting outside in the morning and practicing point counts in a group. And trying to get a feel for where everyone was with learning bird songs and calls. The weather was mildly disagreeable, but not overly so. At least for me. Maybe I just know how to dress for weather for bird work? It seemed I was the only one who didn't look about 20 pounds overweight with all the layers we had on...and I had 4 layers on! Still though, I'm missing the warmth of the tropics a bit. I have been told it WILL get warmer...I will believe it when it comes.

Tuesday evening, we knew that we were due for some white stuff...also known as snow. Also known as typical May weather. Oh, wait, no, that ISN'T typical May weather! At least not for there! It was pretty awesome waking up with snow around my tent. I guess the other benefit is that the snow meant we could wake up a little later...like 2 hours later than planned, at 7:00. So, we continued with more training, and bird song practice.

So, it was training, training, training, all week. Thursday we all headed to Wind Cave National Monument in the morning (still in South Dakota), to practice real point counts, and see where our weaknesses were. In spite of the two inches of snow on the ground there, the Western Meadowlarks were very happy. Every point at least 3 were singing, with many more singing behind them. Aside from them, however, not much was around. Upland Sandpipers gave us some pretty cool displays, though. And every point had something new to offer to challenge our skills. Slooowwwwwly, it warmed up, and the snow disappeared. We even started to see a little bit of sun, which had been doing a good disappearing act all week. After our points were done, a few of us went over to chase some birds that were offering great looks (Red Crossbills, and yes, they have a crossed bill!). One of these was another "lifer", as a subspecies: White-winged Junco. Who may have had a nest, since he was carrying food in his bill. Apparently, they weren't bothered by the snow all that much!

Thursday afternoon, my boss and I left for our first work related point count, in Thunder Basin National Grassland (administered by the US Forest Service). Beautiful sunshine! And wiiiiiiiide open spaces. I cannot recall if I ever have seen such wide views, even during all my trips to various mountain ranges. One got a real good idea how daunting the late 1800s would have been for the homesteaders. You really would have to be self sufficient out there. There wasn't anything nearby. See the photo above for an idea of how wide open it is.

The culmination of our week, though, was the next morning. Thursday night, after we bird watched for a little while, we settled in to make our dinners, enjoy the solitude, watch the sunset and listen to the bird song. As we sat cooking dinner, we started to hear some faint popping noises. From very far away. We were hoping for a wonderful view of it the next morning.

How cold and long has the winter been? We discovered Friday morning.

We woke up early. I won't say bright and early, because the sun was not up yet! We geared up, and headed to our transect. As we walked, we could hear the popping again. We walked slowly, looking for what we knew was somewhere nearby. Finally, I spied it, on a slight ridge, near a cattle water pond.

Greater Sage Grouse. On a lek. In full display mode. 10 males, 5 females. The "popping" noises are made during displays, air sacs in the breast that, well, I don't know exactly how they do it, but they make some fun displays! I had never seen this before, and this was a real treat to see. We watched them for 10-15 minutes, to really soak it in, and continued on our way. We could still hear them from about two kilometers away. So even though the display is not overly loud, because the air was so still, it was able to carry far enough to hear on the transect in spots.

Normally, by this time of year, the grouse would be finished with their mating, and the females would be on nests. But this winter has been long and cold and brutal, so apparently the females haven't finished with their nesting yet. A wonderful start to the point count, and heck, to start the field season, and a wonderful way to end the week.

So, overall, you could say I am finally getting used to the cold. I think having the right clothing helps, because I don't feel overly cold or anything. When the wind blows though....brrrr! Eventually, it should get nicer, but snow is still in the forecast for today, for Laramie and the surrounding mountains. But that's fine by me. I will eventually get to enjoy my wonderful playground here.

Besides, I have my next job to get warm, at least with thoughts about it. In early September, I will be heading to one of the locations on my "must do before I die list": Amazonian lowlands, more specifically, Iquitos, Peru. I will be there all the way into December. More details as they come.

Happy trails, all! I hope to drop another line next week sometime! [and apologies if this was kind of dry...it's been a while since I wrote]

Ahhhhh......Mountains!

2010-05-09T16:42:00.002-04:00

Well, I'm glad I packed my long underwear! The weather here in Laramie is a bit colder than what it was in Arvada. But that's fine by me. My body was way too used to being in tropical environments.

Laramie seems to be quite a nice town for my home base. Though I have no idea how often I will actually be here once the work actually starts. This week I head to South Dakota for a few days, for job training. One of the four states I have left to visit. It should be fun, and with any luck I will even pick up a new bird or two. We shall see.

My two days here are mostly just getting ready for the field season, which more or less involved shopping. I spent 2 hours in the grocery store yesterday, and the bill was quite large. This is somewhat normal...but the amount was much higher than normal! With luck though, I won't be shopping for that much food again. Much of what I bought was because it was on sale, so I could stock up, plus I had to keep in mind most of my food must be packable for camping.

So, that's about the report for now. Next week's should have more news and pictures.

Here I go again!

2010-05-05T15:22:00.003-04:00

Yup, it's that time of year again! The snows are melting (though Mother Nature is making a valiant effort to keep it on the ground!). The trees are budding. The grass is growing. And of course, the birds are chipping, singing, chasing, and otherwise getting ready for another breeding year in North America.

From talking to family and friends, I guess I haven't been as forthcoming on what I am doing this summer! Many have said they had no idea where I was going to be this summer. Well, here it is: I will be working in Wyoming, based out of Laramie. I will be doing point counts (stand in one spot, count all the birds I see and hear in 5 minutes, repeat many many times at other locations) in Medicine Bow National Forest, as well as Thunder Basin National Grassland.

Right now I am in Arvada, Colorado, visiting my aunt, uncle, cousin Francesca, and Sierra (golden retriever, a great companion on daily walks). I leave for Wyoming on Friday.

This should be a fairly fun field season! I will have a lot of camping involved, and backpacking as well. My first week is training in South Dakota (Black Hills), which means I can knock one of the last states off my "to visit" list (the other three being North Dakota, Montana, and Alaska). I was pleasantly surprised, too, when I got my bird list to study: there are no fewer than 5 birds that will be new! Plus a few more birds that will be new for the United States (yeah, I guess I have been spending a lot of time outside of the country!).

So, expect to see more posts in the coming weeks and months. I will try to get one up each week. Much of that will depend on both my work schedule, as well as how much I decide to spend my free time backpacking and camping.

Have a good one all!

Another trip revisit, part 2 of ???

2010-03-21T00:30:00.005-04:00

Yet more insomnia. At least the advantage is that it's quiet, and I can think. I think part of the insomnia is restlessness. I'm glad most of the time I don't own a car, but at times, like now, I feel trapped a little bit. The weather has finally improved here in Western New York, and the spring migrants are starting to trickle in.

For now, the goal of guiding is put on hold, a little bit, but not by my choice. I am starting to realize it will take time (I have to hope so, the flip side is too depressing) to make that my full time work. In the meantime, I get to finally get back to working in the mountains. I will be in Wyoming this summer, doing a lot of hiking, bird counting, backpacking, camping, and having a fun time. My biggest fear is loneliness, but I'll jump off that bridge when I get to it. I always seem happier while camping. Worries are always so much farther away when I am.

I am glad for the friends who encourage me to write a book. Right now, a stumbling block for that is how would I start it? I read voraciously, as many of you know, and as such have a huge library of books in my memory I am afraid I might sound stale, or something like it. But for now, I'll just write what I want to write, and see what comes of it.

I had two things I was considering writing about this time, origins or tropical experience. I decided tropical (it will be a bit easier for me to write about, for now).

Title this one something like "So THIS is the big deal about the tropics. Part 1, the lead up and the first day."
In 2007, it turns out I left my part time work at home for the last time. I was hired to work on a project in Hawaii, working on a project monitoring an endangered species on Kauai. This is not that story. While in Hawaii, though, I was getting my first little taste of the tropics, and some of the unique and vastly different avifauna the world has. Like during all field jobs, I spent a few hours every week browsing my job sites, and applying to work for the late season, namely July and after.

There aren't many jobs that only last during the July and August months, so I did not have high hopes for finding work. I was already doing a good job of hoarding money at the point, for the chance that I would have to live on savings for a while. One of the jobs I applied to was for some volunteer work in Ecuador. I didn't feel that I had a good chance for the job, but I figured, I can't get a job if I don't apply.

After spending 8 consecutive days in the field in Hawaii, from a Monday to the following Monday, I headed out from the field. Due to some weather related issues, we could not drive across one of our stream crossings, and so our boss and crew leader picked us up. While riding back with the crew leader, I learned that his girlfriend got a job in Ecuador, and it turns out it was the same project I had applied for. I think the direct quote from him was "Hey, maybe you'll have an e-mail in your inbox offering you a job." I didn't expect one. Prior to this, I had received an e-mail from the project asking what my specific dates of availability were.

After taking care of personal hygiene (shower!), I got down to checking my mail. And lo and behold, there was the job offer. I believe I nearly fell out of the chair in shock (seriously, I did not consider myself a strong candidate!). I checked my bank balance. And the price of tickets. Most jobs give you a few days to consider. This one did, but they offered it to me a week before I read the e-mail. Thankfully, I still had about 12 hours at the time to decide.

To this point, I had traveled to Australia for bird work, and a short trip to Mexico. As I had birded more though, I was learning that tropical birding, especially the neo-tropics (New World), was the place to be. So when I applied, I thought it would be a nice opportunity to pay for a plane ticket to South America, but have someone else foot the bill for my food and lodging, so I could get my foot in the door, so to speak.

So, the decision became a no brainer.

I finished my Hawaiian job, and flew to New York. About 60 hours later, I was waiting in the airport again, getting ready to leave. I do not recall any nervousness on my first trip to Australia, but I remember being full of nerves that day. For the first time, I was traveling somewhere that I didn't speak the language, to a third world country, and where I had to find my way, on my own, from point A to point B with the directions they gave me. I had no idea what to expect (this was before I learned to use that wonderful invention, guidebooks).

The directions they gave me worked semi well. I think the nerves I had made things mildly worse, but it all turned out well in the end. I took the wrong bus initially, and ended up god knows where, but eventually, through the patience of the locals, and my own, I found my way up to Tapichalaca Reserve, in southern Ecuador, which would be my home for about 7 weeks. I arrived after it had gotten dark.

I met one of my coworkers, and the person who was to train me (a Kiwi, Leigh) before she left for parts unknown. We chatted and had dinner, and had a short work session on what I would do, where to go, and what my schedule would be. Then it was to bed, to get ready for the next day.

So keep in mind at this point I had not been walking around in any kind of habitat yet. It was dark when I arrived, and I had pretty much been traveling for around two days straight (one day of flying, and one day of flights, taxis and buses).

So, I awoke the next day, feeling very refreshed and fairly excited to get going. I did my morning routine, and headed toward the path I was told to take.

I initially didn't see many birds. My ears weren't attuned in as well as they would be by the end of the project, but I did not hear the "jungle" sounds you hear in all the Africa and South America soundtracks. I attribute this to the fact that the birds, since they can nearly breed year round, do not call all day like they do here in the states, but sporadically, so you don't hear a really loud chorus except for a few minutes in the morning.

As I stepped onto the trail from the road, I saw a bird running along the trail. For the first time in a long time, I had NO IDEA WHAT I WAS LOOKING AT. I was beyond excited, while trying to figure out just what group of birds it belonged to! It was running along the ground, but I had no clue if it was flightless or not. The colors were drab and subdued, so my first thought was antbird (group). This was correct. The next step was trying to figure out which of 300 birds it was!

After I finished my time up there, the sheer diversity of birds would no longer faze me. But at this point, I was just excited to see something completely new, that I had no idea what it was. So, this was possibly the first sign I was in the tropics. I knew I was in the tropics a little further along the trail.

A large bird flew over my head, and perched. Though it was up sun a little, there was no mistaking what I was seeing. A trogon. I even said aloud, after the requisite 30 seconds of numb shock again: "You sure aren't home anymore. Welcome to the tropics." I have hardly ever been rendered speechless and motionless by wildlife in my life. This was one of those times. I don't think anything would have prepared me for seeing this kind of bird, that close. And it was nice to see a bird like that, so well, and have it perched in the same spot for a while. It took me a couple of minutes to remember I had a camera...and when I moved to use it, the bird flew. Later during my time there, I got some good photos, since I could do such a good rendition of the call to bring them in.

After this, I encountered Marco, one of the Guardaparques, at the worm feeding station for our study species, the Jocotoco Antpitta (picture at the beginning). I didn't see it that day, but I got a nice introduction to a few of the other birds I would have as neighbors for the next few weeks. After trying vainly to chat a little (Marco spoke no English, and I spoke little Spanish, poorly), I continued along and encountered Leigh, and then she began teaching me how to work on the study. I think she also helped point out a few species of bird, but I can't recall. We had only a couple of days to get me fully up to speed before she left me on my own.

I can't recall much of what happened the rest of the day. I do remember when going to be that night, that visions of the trogons and Antpittas [side note: that first bird I saw on the trail was a Chestnut-naped Antpitta] were going through my head. I knew I was going to have a fun 7 weeks!

Revisiting old trips, part 1 of ???

2010-03-16T01:46:00.003-04:00

So I am having a second night of insomnia, and can't seem to find anything to relax. With all this quiet time after hours, the mind starts wandering...

Many of you have enjoyed my mailings over the years, and now the blog. This past year, three friends have all mentioned that with all these wonderful stories I have, I should write a book. At first, I laughed about it (sorry Buddy, but that honestly was my first thought). Probably because really, what would I write about?

Since then (July last year), two other people, both of whom I value their opinions highly, have seconded the idea. Which has made me pause in more thought at times.

My biggest hurdle? I don't know where to begin, or really what to write. So, random writings, here I come! Random in the fact that I know what I will write about time to time, but the order of events will not be. I thought I would go back on previous experiences, write about them, and go from there.

The following would have to be called: what would have happened if I was alone? Also known as the most nerve wracking experience (scariest) of my life.

In 2003, I was working on a Willow Flycatcher project in the Sierra Nevada for the first time. I was assigned work with a few others (Jacob, Dave, Amy, and Helen) to do call back surveys in the mountain meadow habitats. We would play a song recording and listen for a response in appropriate habitat.

Jacob and I got really gung ho with the backpacking and camping aspect of the work. The more remote the habitat, the happier we were! So in week two, around the middle of June, we found ourselves hiking into the John Muir Wilderness, south of Yosemite National Park but north of Sequoia-Kings Canyon Park. We had a number of areas to search around (what I recall) were the garlic lakes.

Jacob, incidentally, was a fantastic partner to have to teach me the ins and outs of backpacking. I hadn't had an opportunity to do that before, and I was very enthusiastic about the opportunity to do so on this job. Me being the way I am, I knew that the farther I got from roads and the beaten path, the happier I would be.

Garlic Lakes were about an 8 mile hike in, along a well used foot path. We started in the early afternoon, after doing surveys near the trail head. The hike was uphill for the most part in the first half, but after that it remained somewhat level as we passed through some of the most beautiful country you could imagine.

In the middle of June at the elevations we were walking through, snow was still evident on the ground in many places. The corn lilies were up, but I don't recall that they were blooming yet. Incidentally, from later reading I have done, this is good bear food (the roots, anyway). The snowmelt did create some great waterfalls, as well as some wet stream crossing and some muddy paths in spots.

We got to our camp and set ourselves up. We still had a little bit of daylight, as I recall, so we used our GPS, maps, PDA with movable map, and compasses and wits and went to examine our habitats for the next day. After making a plan, we got back to camp, made dinner, and settled in. Just thinking about those nights makes me feel glad for these wonderful areas we have in this country.

So, the next day, we proceeded with the plan. The meadows were in a little bit of a string, with a large one, with a homestead (well, what must have been some kind of homestead) at one end, a series of small ones going up a small ridge to another large one. We started at the homestead, and worked our way to the large meadow.

It is hard to adequately describe the habitat, but I'll try. With the exception of the first large meadow, and the last large one, each meadow was about 40 meters across, with a few Alders, Willows, and other shrubs in bud and leaf. Each of these was separated by some distance, tens to hundreds of meters. The boundaries were wooded. There wasn't much shrubbery in the forest between meadows, so it was relatively easy to see into the woods.

As Jacob and I finished the first large meadow and headed up to the first small meadow, we were walking up a gradual incline in the forest. As we got closer to the edge of the meadow, Jacob said "Check it out, a bear!" And yep, there was a bear walking in the forest on the other side of the meadow, from our right to our left.

Knowing that there was a bear there, one of us kept our eyes peeled while we were in the meadow. It was a small meadow, so we only did one call point, and did our habitat assessment after we were done. While doing so, I saw the bear again. What follows is my impression on what happened:

"Jacob, I see the bear again."

"Where."

"Right across from us, over there."

"Cool"

We admired it for a few seconds, and continued our assessment while I kept an eye on the bear. It occurred to me when watching the bear that it was bigger than the first one we saw. Then the following:

"Um, Jacob?" (mild quaver in voice)

"yeah?"

"Look beside and below the bear, to the right."

"Oh crap" (I don't recall if that is the exact quote)

Next to mama bear, was baby bear. And we were about 20 meters away. Maybe closer. Yeah, that in itself was scary. We didn't take our eyes off them for one second. But we still finished our assessment. We conversed, and knew we should slowly back up a little, but then also make noise, let her know we were there. She still hadn't realized we were there. So, we made noise. And she stood up on her hind legs.

Okay, so I know that black bears are for the most part, harmless. But still. When a grown bear stands on its hind legs, there is one thought that will first go through ones mind. We overrode instinct and stood our ground. While she sniffed the air and looked at us, we watched bear number 1 (the first one we saw, in the woods), go galloping away from us in the woods behind the mama and her cub. Yeah, the mama was NOT the first bear we saw.

Mama dropped back down, and baby ran away too. Mama just kind of ambled along, angling away from us, but not in a big hurry.

Jacob and I looked at each other, and I think we had the same thought. Why is she NOT running away? Which is the normal behavior of a bear in this situation, at least in our thoughts. But, we kept making loud noise, and proceeded to walk up the ridge, to the next meadow. He walked forward, I walked backward. Always watching the bear.

When we left the meadow and we were in the woods, at the edge of the meadow we just left:

"Jacob?"

"Yeah?"

"She's walking into the meadow where we were."

At this point, at least I was getting really worried. This did not seem right.

"Um, she's following us."

"Uhhhhhh......"

At this point, I have no idea what my mindset was. But we kept walking, and thankfully she stopped walking along our path, and then went into the woods by where we were originally standing. And we kept making lots of noise (just conversing really loudly).

Later, we decided there was likely another bear cub, behind where we were originally standing in the meadow. At least, that's what I think it was.

So, there you have it. Possibly the scariest wildlife encounter I have had, if only because the behavior of the bear just was not expected. Jacob and I saw each other a few years later, and talked about it. Our stories still meshed, for the most part. And we both still agreed that it was a really good thing we were not alone, but that there were two of us there. With only one person there, it is really hard to say what would have happened.

Lasting Impressions: New Zealand

2010-02-06T00:43:00.011-05:00

Part two of the trip. 26 days, over 1.000 km traveled.

I started in Wellington, visiting Karori Wildlife Sanctuary. Second best wildlife experience I have ever had, only behind the Great Barrier Reef. So many wonderful birds here, and in the rest of new Zealand. These guys, the Tui, are common everywhere. But I never tire of them. The lasting impressions of Karori will have to remain mental images: seeing the Saddleback and Stitchbird (Hihi) a few feet from each other, at the same time, for the first time. I won't get over it; and I knew at that point I had to be over 1.200 species.
My next stop was Nelson Lakes. The rain the first day was not an omen. It cleared beautifully. In spite of not being used to carrying a full pack all day, I thoroughly enjoyed my time. In spite of the failed route find. The first of the two images above is where I was on New Year's Eve. Waking up to that scene can be summed in one word: wow (I couldn't see it well the night before because of low cloud cover). And above, the area around Angelus Lakes reminded me why all this hiking is worth it.
From Nelson to Stewart Island, I had stops on the way. Yeah, the glaciers were cool. And the scenery in Queenstown was incredible. But during that entire 8 day stretch or so, with all the low clouds, the fog, the rain, and the crowds. The one thing that I always loved was seeing the South Island Robin during my day walks in the forest. By sheer personality, it will stick in my mind.

And on Stewart Island? This is what I will remember:
Water and mud. And the sheer joy of it all. It all comes down to proper gear. You stay dry, you stay happy. And happy I was. I encountered wonderful people. Saw fantastic scenery. Relaxed. Enjoyed the solitude. And smiled. A lot.

On Ulva Island, I found a large, flightless, cheeky bird. The Weka. Not as colorful as some, but when they poke at your feet looking for bugs or whatever, you forget that. And realize not all animals have an innate fear of man.

Which brings us to the final impression. The Hoiho, of course.

As I said in a previous post. Wow. I knew I was a long way from home when saw this guy walking out of the ocean. That experience, for as much as I have seen in New York, California, Florida, Arizona, Texas, Maine, Hawaii, Mexico, Costa Rica, Panama, Ecuador, and Australia, is unmatched. I have been struck dumb from seeing a bird very few times. This was one of those times.

Lasting Impressions: Australia

2010-02-05T23:51:00.009-05:00

Four months, two countries, 80+ new species of birds, lots of new friends. The following are the images that will stick in my mind for years to come.Before the project began, I had about five free days in Brisbane with members of the work crew. We rented a car one day to head up to parts outside the "ten block radius" some of us had been stuck in. During one of the trips, we got to see perhaps the most colorful bird I have ever seen, the Rainbow Lorikeet, in spades. This was taken at Thunderbird Park.

Well, while in Brisbane, me and the gang did various things. Our last night before the project, we all went out for our last "real" meal, knowing we had only a two burner stove for 8 person meals. This picture was taken that night, heading back to the hostel.

Two months at the field site produced a lot of images. It isn't hard to decide on those that will be my strongest impressions. First, of course, would be the large quantity of gear we would carry on our routes. Day pack plus battery on the A-Frame. Later we would add a bird blind to the mix, as well.
Daily, I would walk to each of my four bowers twice, more or less along a straight line route. I doubled back a lot. I covered 10 miles every day, 5 miles on Friday, our half day. Every morning, on the way to bower 45, I would encounter Kangaroos. I never got tired of their unique pose. And once they got used to me, they would just stand, chew, and stare. Seeing joeys of all ages with their moms will stick with me forever.
Finally, the view I had every day, at the end of the day, after finishing my route. When I walked down this hill, I would always pause and reflect on how lucky I was to be there. In spite of the 40 degree heat (= 100 F). The intense sun. The long days. The sometimes boring blind stints. The paralysis ticks. The flies. The same routine every day. Some people pay to experience this; I had someone pay me. This is definitely NOT your typical work place. And knowing when I got to the bottom, a hot meal and friendly faces and perhaps a refreshing creek dip were waiting.

As a short side note, the one day that really sticks in my mind was the first time we did our fully scheduled activities. It turns out I had equipment problems that day. Normally, when I would walk down this hill, it would be around four in the afternoon. As a result of needing to repair equipment, combined with measuring one bower, and mapping another, I was not walking down this hill until around 7 pm, very close to full darkness, meaning my work day was nearly 14 hours long.

Yet, I was smiling.

Of course, being a bird watcher, at least one bird had to leave a lasting impression. In spite of all the time watching the Satin Bowerbirds, the numerous parrots and cockatoos and magpies, this guy, the Superb Fairy Wren, will stick in my mind. For it's friendly personality, vivid colors, and constant cheeriness. One couldn't have a bad day when you saw one of these a few feet away.

Endings and Beginnings

2010-02-05T23:14:00.009-05:00

Well, I never did get the last post up before I left Kiwi Land. I have been done traveling for about two and half weeks, so I figured it was about time I caught up, and put some of the much awaited pictures up of various things.

Kiwi land treated me well, and at times (such as during my tramp through Nelson Lake Lakes National Park, above) I felt very relaxed. During all my trips I learn something new, and have something to return for. For New Zealand, of course, it is to find that ever elusive Kiwi bird. And as much as I enjoyed the trip, I think next time I won't try to travel quite so far.

By far the highlight of the trip was tour with Elm Wildlife to see the penguins, albatrosses, and fur seals. Getting up close to the sea lions was a bonus. For all the adventures I have been on, seeing that penguin walk up the beach right in front of us was beyond words. And seeing a sea lion so close, without any barriers, about 10 feet away. Incredible. And the effortless flying of the Albatrosses as well was awesome.

So, the last day, there was no way I could top that. So, I did what any other person would have done: go find out how beer was made, and then sample the end product. Yep, it was Speight's Brewery tour time! It was only about a 200 meter walk from the hostel entrance, so I figured what the hey.

God bless those egyptians! Inventing beer so long ago (yeah, we got a history lesson of beer as well!)

So, after the history lesson, it was through the brewery. Our guide led us through all the different steps, and ingredients used. As well as giving us some interesting trivia. Such as, why certain beers (namely, mass produced ones, especially in the US) give you such bad hangovers. What hops are related to (hemp or marijuana). How you can use hops to help cure insomnia (put some in the pillowcase). Oh, and why Guinness from a tap tastes different wherever you go (it's the water).

After the tour, we were taken to the brew room, where we had to test the beers for quality. And also, at the same time, learn how different a beer will taste when it is only a couple of days old. Finally, I learned I still don't like really fruity beer (they had their apricot seasonal ale for the summer on tap), and I don't like the low carb beers.

So, from here, it was time to have my last nights of my trip. I went out to eat for dinner in New Zealand, then sat and relaxed and watched a movie. I returned to Brisbane for a night, collected my luggage, repacked everything, and then tried to relax. Brisbane felt kind of funny, actually. When I had arrived in October, and during the few days before I left for New Zealand after the project was done, I always had friends around to hang with. It almost felt lonely that night without anyone around. But thankfully, I didn't have a lot of time to dwell on that, met some wonderful people when I went out to eat, and then returned home.

And I miss the warm weather already! As much as I enjoy winter and the snow, my body got very used to 8 months of summer. The best and worst thing about now though, has to be...

...where will I go from here?

I already have a few applications out to potential guiding opportunities. The hardest part is the waiting game. I haven't decided yet what my cutoff date is to get a job. I have a few field jobs I can apply to that I expect I would easily be able to get. Since I have decided guiding is my future, however, I want to hold off on that as long as possible. So, we shall see.

In the meantime, get outside! Explore! When you have a decision between catching a re-run and watching a bird in the backyard, always choose the bird. Even if it is "just a cardinal."

The image/impression I will have from New Zealand

2010-01-17T17:14:00.003-05:00

This will stick with me for the rest of my life.

Pictures are worth a thousand words...

2010-01-17T16:54:00.003-05:00

It was an awesome last tour. Photo opportunities and video commentary courtesy of Elm Wildlife Tours.

Stewart Island Shags.

Embrace the mud!

2010-01-15T22:52:00.002-05:00

Okay, this will perhaps be my last post from Kiwi land; though I will try to get another up the day before I leave (2 days from now). Only a few things left to accomplish here. I have to send a package home of camping gear, and go on my first (and only) guided tour tomorrow. I am off to photograph up close and personal the New Zealand Fur Seal, Toroa, and Hoiho. A future post should have some wonderful shots.

And the weather FINALLY changed for the better! I'm not sure if it is location, or a change in pattern. But whatever, I like it! Bright sunny skies, few clouds. It's not quite shorts weather...but it sure beats wearing muddy rain gear (more on that in a moment).

And for those Harry Potter nuts out there, I am staying at Hogwarts. Seriously. That's the name of my hostel. Pretty neat. It's a converted house; the bishop for the cathedral used to live there. In essence, the place is huge.

But the stories the past week are all about the tramp. Some disappointment: I never did spy a kiwi. Heard a lot. Saw a few tracks. But no visual. But some excitement: I did see Banded Dotterel (now you know where my e-mail name is from...), Fernbird (the bird I missed on Ulva), New Zealand Pipit, and Skylark. And the most wonderful secluded beach. And the most wonderful huts.

And fun with mud. Embrace the mud. Love the mud. Sometimes even accidentally eating the mud.

All the rain on stewart the past, well, month or so, made for some wonderful hiking conditions. Photos to come at a future date. I had my waterproof boots. Gaiters. Rain pants. Rain coat. Rain hat. Pack cover. So, I managed to stay (at the skin level), dry. But at times I walked in water just below my waist. ON THE TRAIL. Other times I walked in mud, up to my waist. ON THE TRAIL. These kiwis know how to make a trail! I was forewarned about Stewart, and it did not disappoint. Once you learn to embrace the mud, you enjoy yourself. Oh, and I had it easy on my parts of the trail. A few of the others on the island were worse, from talking to others. One couple I ran into had a mud line at chest height. Egad! I look forward to my next opportunity!

For comparison purposes: Ecuador was never this muddy, just wet. Rara avis in Costa Rica doesn't come close. And neither does Hawaii. When you take a step without knowing if you are going to sink 6 inches or 6 feet (!), it makes for some lively stepping! It was the perfect way to relax and enjoy myself on the last leg of my trip. And of course I enjoyed my usual post tramp food binge and beer.

I bid you all a good day. Future posts should be including lots and lots of photos, since I will back stateside. I will see many of you soon, I hope!

Ulva

2010-01-10T02:40:00.005-05:00

To answer the question. Ulva is a predator free (no possums, no rats, no mice) island off the coast of Stewart Island, New Zealand, where the Department of Conservation has re-introduced many of the native bird species from New Zealand. The birds can eat, drink, and be merry, because they don't have to worry about any predators. Except sometimes a very inquisitive gull.

It was fantastic to have the opportunity to walk through a habitat that was very much what New Zealand, as a whole, used to be like. Lots of Ferns and other similar plants. Lots of moss. Lots of mud (but today, I had a boardwalk). And lots of close encounters with native birds.

The first birds of the island were the two common water birds seen in these parts, the Red-billed Gull, and Black Oystercatcher. They have both been giving me ample photo opportunities.

Then, it was off to the interior of the island. And what do I spy but one of the two most cheekiest birds I have encountered here in New Zealand, the Weka (Stewart Island species). Followed very quickly by the other cheeky species, the Robin (Stewart Island subspecies).

It was going to be a good day. Well worth the water taxi trip out there.

I spent all day (well, 9 am to 4 pm) on the island. It was paradise...though a bit cooler than a tropical beach. But very little rain, even some sun, so no complaints! It was fantastic to walk on well trodden tracks that were not muddy, walk along the beaches followed by the Wekas, watch penguins swimming just off shore. Yes, I got to watch them again today. How awesome is this place?

And, I got two of my three target birds for this part of the trip. Yellowhead (the more important of the three to get), and the Brown Creeper. No relation to the North American Brown Creeper. It took a while to get that first look at one. But after I did, I couldn't not see them, or hear them. After the tui and bellbird, they may have been the most abundant bird out there.

Near the end of my time on the island, I got to just sit and watch (well, stand and watch) as a South Island Kaka went to town on the flowers of one of the trees here. It's hard to describe how massive this parrot is. Very vocal too, though this guy was so preoccupied with his flowers he paid me no mind.

I also got fantastic views of the New Zealand Pigeon. It nearly makes up for missing the Wompoo Fruit Dove in Australia. But, as I am well known for saying, I always need an excuse to go back somewhere. This guy was waiting by the dock to bird me farewell. Though I will be seeing plenty more of them over the next few days, I am sure.

So, the next stage of the journey remains here on Stewart Island. I get a water taxi tomorrow to take me up to Freshwater Hut. This cuts a full day and half out of walking time, and allows me to have more time to hunt for the 5th item on the to-do list here. Yep, it's Kiwi hunting time (not rifle style, just spotting style). It felt weird to pack my bag today without my tent in it. Since I will be staying in huts, no need. It's amazing how much easier it is to fit everything in it. I have all my foul weather gear too, since I will expect that day 4 will enjoy a very wet and muddy slog. As in, up to my knees mud. I'm looking forward to the adventure! I even spend 2 nights in one camp, to allow me the best opportunity to spy a Kiwi. I am finishing Stewart Island in grand style. I'm already looking forward to my post-adventure feast and beer. Hopefully a celebratory one.

It's hard to believe this adventure is nearing it's end. When I come out (hopefully very happy) on Friday, I will be only 4 days from venturing back to Australia, and 5 days from heading back to New York.

I bid you adieu, for now.

Yes! Yes! Yes!

2010-01-09T07:15:00.003-05:00

I've included a video with the post today. It's only a short one, but I am really glad I saw what I saw.

Some small background. Before coming down to Australia, and then to New Zealand, I set some goals for myself. Minor ones, but here they are:

-Get a photo of the following: Rainbow Lorikeet, Laughing Kookaburra, Fairy Wren, and a Kangaroo.
-See at least 72 new birds, if possible over 100
-See a Satin Bowerbird
-See a Kiwi
-See a Penguin
-See an Albatross
-See a Tuatara, if possible
-Have fun

There is only ONE item left to do on that list. And that is see a Kiwi. And some of you know already, but...

PENGUIN! PENGUIN! PENGUIN! I saw my first penguin today (well, now yesterday, since it is after midnight)!

This tells me I am pretty far south, eh? Man, today and last night were fantastic, in spite of all the rain.

To expand on the post yesterday...I was starting to enjoy the scenery and the scene in Queenstown. But I was really anxious to get out and see some more birds, and Queenstown and areas nearby weren't the place for it, at least not at that time with the weather (snow and cold) bearing down on the alpine environs. So, I got all my bags packed, and headed south, to Invercargill, and from there to Stewart Island. Not before I got to enjoy (and shiver a bit while doing so) the white-capped mountain scenery in Queenstown. I had wondered why a felt a bit chilled when I woke up...

On the way to Invercargill, I enjoyed some scenery. Wrote some postcards while waiting for my ride. Read up on where to go while on Stewart Island. And just imagined what it might be like. I am not in any way disappointed.

From Invercargill to the ferry terminal, I was even able to pick up a new bird for the trip, a Pied Stilt (I saw this on my last trip to New Zealand too, I am fairly sure). I took this as a good sign.

The bay was calm. The weather was clear. Well, it wasn't raining, there was sun and blue sky. Still lots of clouds, though. So, I decided to sit on the back deck of the ferry, to watch for seabirds as we headed to the island. And what a show I had! The seas were a bit higher than I ever imagined they might be; but then, I was in the 'Roaring Forties', which can make some pretty big swells. Perfect weather to admire the Sooty Shearwaters (check) and the Shy Albatrosses (check) show what perfect flying machines they were. Oh, and I was able to spy some Spotted Shags (check) and some Stewart Island Shags (check) sitting on rocks on the way into the bay into Oban, Stewart Island's main port. Population, 400.

I didn't realize how much I was looking forward to this section of the trip till I got here. I mean, I knew I was pumped for here. But I really feel I am finally starting to slow down. Today, I got my plans set for the next week, which includes a wet, muddy 5 day, 4 night tramp through the interior of the island. And I don't have to worry about traveling much anymore. And, since I saw a penguin here, I don't have to worry about seeing them in Dunedin. So Dunedin may just be a place for seabird photography. We shall see.

But today, in spite of the rain, had some exciting times anyway. I took a short walk (about 3 hours) today around my end of the island, to see what I could see. Like, maybe a Stewart Island Weka (check!). And a Kakariki (check!). And, of course, my first, but not last, Little Blue Penguin (check!). I knew the penguins had to be around. I could hear what sounded like soft quacking in the ocean, of which my view was severely obstructed by vegetation. It didn't help I was on a cliff top, and the water, and the birds, were well below me. But, eventually I found my overlook. And I paused, and soaked it in. And did my happy dance.

So, I finally saw a penguin. I still am in disbelief. I did another walk this evening, to head to the point of land where they come ashore to feed their chicks, which were hidden in burrows. I got to watch one penguin just play in the water as the tide came in, much closer than my views I got from the cliff. Wow. I am starting to realize just how well traveled I am getting.

That makes one more bird 'type' I have knocked off my list of type of bird to see. I have yet to see a ratite (flightless bird) in the wild. There are only about 5 types of birds in the ratites now: Kiwi (NZ), Rhea (S. America), Ostrich, Emu, and Cassowary (both Australia). Maybe I will get the Kiwi this week. Even if not, this trip has been a huge success, and I am really happy how it has gone (though I could do with a little less rain).

Keep happy everyone!

Seabirds, see birds, seas, and summer snow

2010-01-08T01:32:00.001-05:00

This will be quick. I don't have much time.

My trip to Stewart from Queenstown has gone well. More than well. It was snowing in the high elevations last night in queenstown. I'm glad I decided to forgo the tramp into the bush line, and come to stewart early. I don't mind winter camping...but I wanted to see some new birds.

And new birds I have seen! The seas were a bit rough (to put it mildly) on the crossing to Stewart Island (about 5-10 meter sees, I would guess). But this means good for sea birds! Shy Albatrosses. Sooty Shearwaters. Blue Skies. Ahhh....I like the ocean, even if it tries to make the stomach do sumersaults (no, I didn't get sick).

The next couple of days should be a blast. I got at least 2 new birds today: Shy Albatross and Spotted Shag. I don't know if I will make it to Ulva Island tomorrow. But the weather has finally seemed to turn the corner for the better for me.

I will post more in the next day or two. But I am trying to keep on my new year's resolution to write more.

Tuis, Tuataras, 1.200, and more...

2010-01-06T23:13:00.007-05:00

Ahhh...here it is folks. The much awaited first blog of 2010. Apologies for not getting anything up sooner. It has been a busy couple of weeks in New Zealand. But, in spite of the adrenaline charged town of Queenstown [arguably the adrenaline capital of the world: bungee jumping, parasailing, hang gliding, sky diving, jet boat rides, white water trips, and more on the offer here], I have found a way to slow myself down. And I have cheap computer time, nobody breathing down my neck, and dinner hour not quite close enough yet. All in all, plenty of time to finally get a post up, so you all can find out just what has been happening down here.

So, grab your beverage of choice, preferably a NZ or Aussie beer (but Guinness is fine, too). Put on some listening music (Miles Davis is my choice here right now, but you know, whatever yanks your chain). Sit back, relax, and read (and maybe gaze at some photos).

And for starters: no, I have not seen any hobbits, orcs, ents, elves, dwarves, or any other middle earth beings.

So, the final day in Brisbane (well, temporarily, anyway, I fly home from there) went well. Picnic in the park on Christmas eve was a very nice way to spend an afternoon. Followed by drinks in the bar. It was nice and quiet and composed. The next day, it was a sad goodbye, and I got my passport stamped yet again, and arrived in New Zealand.

Christmas was a wash. No stores open. Wellington is a nice capital city, I found. On the 26th, I took off on a day trip to Karori Wildlife Sanctuary. New Zealand originally had no native mammals (aside from bats), and as such many of their native birds and reptiles evolved with no terrestrial predators. Karori has tried to recreate that, by designing a full predator exclosure fence in the middle of the city. No cats, no possums, no rats. All the animals inside the exclosure are free roaming, wild animals.

After my Scuba experience on the great barrier reef in 1998, this is the second coolest thing I have done/seen. The native birds seem to have no (significant) fear of man...many came up right close to me. And some just blew my mind. Tuis flying right by my head. Falcons chasing songbirds around. Ducks looking for food. And the Tuataras (that's a type of ancient reptile) just hanging out, doing their thing.

Needless to say, I focused on the bird life. Coming into New Zealand, if my calculations were correct, I was at 1.994 birds for the world. Karori gave me much more than I expected. The pied shag (Karuhiruhi), pictured above. New Zealand Pigeon. Gray Warbler (or Gergone). Shining Cuckoo. New Zealand Scaup (number 1.199). Photo below (for my non-bird friends, a scaup is a type of duck).

But I wasn't nearly done yet. I eventually left the water areas, and began walking in the woods. I didn't have to do much searching. The birds came to me. Here it is folks (and I am happy it was a native NZ bird, not an introduced species):

That, my friends, is the New Zealand Saddleback, or Tieke. Bird number 1.200 for the world! A fantastic find! And I'm happy I got his photo (not until today did I know exactly which bird was 1.200). But Karori didn't stop there! Nope, the North Island Kaka helped grow the list more. As well as the North Island Robin. The Hihi. The Bellbird. The New Zealand Falcon. The New Zealand Fantail. Yep, all this was well worth it. I spent all day there, till the gates closed. Boy, was I happy!

And thus began the days of transportation, and rain...

From Wellington (North Island of New Zealand), I stocked up on some camping supplies (like stove fuel), and then headed south. A 3 hour ferry ride later, I landed in Picton and spent the night. From there, it was a 3 hour drive (shuttle) to Nelson Lakes/St Arnaud.

I altered my plans a little bit, and decided that since St. Arnaud was such a small town...I would camp out for the New Year, and hike out on New Years day. Good decision on my part! Day one of my hike had a bit of rain...to put it mildly. And lots of mud. LOTS of mud. And lots of wet stream crossings, which conveniently washed off the mud. My rain gear got wet, while I did not...so that was nice.

The tramp was a good way to force myself to slow down. I saw rain, and hail. I did have to wear my winter woolies too...it got cold in there! But, being so far south, I had lots of daylight for hiking...when I finally laid down on New Years eve, it was somewhat light out at 10 pm!

The last new bird for 2009 was the Rifleman. Not only that, but I think that was the last bird I saw, too. Just a small little guy, but a real charmer. Kind of like a nuthatch at home, personality wise. My camp was very nice, in a perfect setting.

So, 2009 started the year in Costa Rica, and it was the year of the Rufous Piha (first bird I saw). The year began with me shy of my 1.100th bird. It ended on the rifleman, over a hundred new birds later (I did not expect to pass 1.200 in 2009).

2010 is the year of the New Zealand South Island Tomtit (think Chickadee like). Boy, that bird is a mouthful! But a real personality...hopefully a good omen for the new year.

Well, after day one, the rain for the most part stayed away, and the skies stayed clear. Some fantastic views of the Southern Alps were had. As well as great views of waterfall, after waterfall, after waterfall...they are beyond counting. I saw snow (on the ground, not falling). And lots of gorgeous scenery. And a loooonnnnggg walk out. With countless stream crossings (seriously, I didn't count...I figured after the 20th time, I really didn't want to know!).

So, in short, Nelson lakes was a great way to start the new year! I am very glad my friend down here recommended it as a place to go. It got me a few new birds too: Tomtit, Rifleman, black swan (introduced), and the 'infamous' kea. If you don't know what these are, there are the most curious parrot you'd ever meet. They are known to destroy vehicles, grabbing at the rubber edging, wires, you name it. We had one come to the hut the first night.

The best part of the trip though, was perhaps the South Island Robin. For sheer cheekiness! I took a break one day to have my lunch (peanut butter and crackers), and was sitting down near the trail. A couple of the robins came by to say hi. And eventually hopped right on my foot. And my knee. And poked at my bag of food. And then chased each other around and UNDER my legs.

I think I have an idea of what the galapagos might be like...

Well, from there, it was a night in St. Arnaud, and the traditional post-tramp gorge. Beer and chocolate (and yes, I had a main course in between that!). Then, the beginning of travels.

And lots of rain. Lots and lots of rain. I'm used to it (from Ecuador, Costa Rica, Hawaii...). But I'm on vacation here! It wouldn't be so bad, except it was pouring, so even birding was out. And short hikes too...what's the point when you can't see the grand views? But, I did put the day off to good use...I rested.

So, I have wound my way along the west coast. Took in some glacier sites at Fox Glacier. Even got a new bird out of it: South Island Pied Oystercatcher. Then continued on here to adrenaline charged queenstown.

Which brings us up to date. The next main part of the trip should be lots of fun: Stewart Island! More my style for personal time: isolated island. No non-native predators. Kiwis, Penguins, Albatrosses. And hopefully ample photo opportunities. Another tramp. And a lot fewer people too! I'm getting there earlier than I planned, but I like it that way. I won't feel so constrained for time on the island.

The bird list, since Karori, has still grown. Aside from the above mentioned Oystercatcher, I have also seen the Kotuku (white heron), and a few other birds here and there.

Well, my computer here didn't seem to like my other memory card. So, no other pictures to include at the moment. But rest assured, I am happy, well fed, well rested. And I am spending less on certain things than expected (food), but more on others (transport)...so, for the most part, I'm doing ok. I can't wait for my tramp on Stewart! I don't hold out high hopes for the kiwi...but man, with the sun up at 6 am, and down at 10 pm...those guys will have to come out during the day to feed on Stewart. Keep your fingers crossed.

Well, belated Merry Christmas everyone. Belated Happy New Year, too. Hopefully, everyone is healthy again when I get home (stop getting sick, people!). I will end this with an update on my New Years resolutions (well, some, anyway):

-get a permanent, full time job. Somewhere (hopefully guiding)
-see my 1.300th life bird
-see my 450th bird in the US, including my first Snowy Owl
-go someplace new
-get out more!
-see my friends more (it would help if they weren't all over the place, but what can you do?)
-write in my blog more
-write in my journal more
-get a weeklong plus tramp/backpack in (maybe Adirondacks?)
-see family more

Okay, I bid you all a good day (or evening). I will hopefull get another post up within a week...it will depend on what I do on Stewart in what order (a three night tramp is scheduled).

A final week in the land of Oz

2009-12-23T19:52:00.002-05:00

Wow, where did the two months go? The first month of field work didn't seem to drag on, while we kept busy. When we got to month two, we were full up on our work load. Some days went quick (especially those with blind watches that were busy), but then some days seemed to drag a bit. Especially those that had equipment problems.

But, things all timed out extremely well. Some of you may know that Aussie is in a 7 year drought. That was brought to home by our local creek (or as I say, "crick", which drove some coworkers crazy!). At the start, when we got a few rainstorms, it stayed at a decent level to fill our water buckets and take a dip. By the last week, it was very low, and very hard to even decently fill a bucket with one dip.

On December 19, we did our last route in the morning, and headed to town. On the 20th, we all went to our routes in the morning to take down equipment. 30 minutes after the last of us was in, it rained. For the next day and a half. YAY! Thank heaven it happened after we were all in. Then it was pack all the gear in, and head back to Brisbane! With only minor vehicle issues.

In sum, I am glad I took this field job for so many reasons. I got to see some great new birds. I met some wonderful new people, and I got an excuse to go to New Zealand again. I'm already thinking of my next trip to Australia, if only to get to Tasmania, which I can't manage this trip.

My species total for the trip was 65 new species for the world, and 66 new for Australia (at least). I am now 7 species away from my landmark 1.200th bird...which I may, if I am lucky, get on day 2 in New Zealand! I do have many wonderful photos (and will be trying to get them up next). I made sure I began to write in my journal again regularly, and will be trying to get blog posts up on a regular basis in New Zealand.

And I guess the final question...what do I do from here?

I have no idea. A good, yet very scary feeling. As a (potentially) final field job...I don't regret Australia at all.

My final thoughts for today. I actually made some new years resolutions. So, i thought I might put a few up here, so that people can call me on them if I begin to deviate...

- get to my 450th bird for north america
- get a full time, permanent job (this is actually my #1 priority for 2010)
- see family more often [i hope to make this the last time i spend christmas away from family]
- see a new country

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year all. On the docket for today is pack the bag for New Zealand, and a Christmas Eve picnic in the park with one (two?) of my coworkers who are still here in Brisbane.

Return to Brisbane...

2009-12-22T02:16:00.002-05:00

The last few days have been a bit of a whirl. I am still trying to sort out my thoughts on everything, and I am sure I will post again when my thoughts are a bit more organized.

First and foremost, Happy Christmas everyone. Or as they say down under, Happy Chrissy. And Happy New Year, too, but I will be sure to post (and maybe even call...?) before then. It feels weird, again, to have no snow. But I got the red and green with the parrots and parakeets, and the white with the Cockatoos. And I had a Christmas tree, briefly.

Work ended abruptly, and my body was quite glad to be done. I used my GPS to track my route to find out just how far I walked every day. Turned out, I was walking at least 10 miles, yeah, that's right, 10 miles a day. WOW. No wonder my body was ready to be done!

I have seen some new birds. And I have gotten my good pictures of the birds I wanted.

And my mind is wandering way too much. I will write again soon, all.

Happy Holidays again. I miss you all.

Michael

Thanks

2009-11-26T20:25:00.000-05:00

I'm thankful that I have all these great friends that do work in far flung places, so that I had an excuse to come to Australia again well before I had expected to.

I'm thankful that there is such a great diversity of bird life in the world, to give me an excuse to travel to far flung parts of the globe to tally more bird species.

I'm thankful I have such a supportive family, who helps me make this life work, for now.

So, life in all down here is going well. It is hard to believe there is just under a month left. Since I last wrote, we have finally gotten into the full swing of things here. Data entry every other day, with the other day being bird observations from a blind for 4 hours at a time. Plus other tasks involving measuring stuff on Bowers.

It has gotten hot, though. Wow, has it gotten hot. And not much of a breeze to speak of either. Thank goodness for the rain we had the other day. My farmers tan is, well, very tan!

My world list still grows by a bird here and there. Plus I am rounding out my pictures as well...I finally used up one memory card, so I have at least 600 photos or so now. To be posted up sometime in January or February.

It will be very hard to leave when the time does come, for so many reasons. I try not to think about it, though. And at least there are enough things to keep the mind and body busy here that I don't think about it much.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone. I miss you all, and hope to see you when I return to North America.

____________________________________________________________
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Koalas, Kangaroos, and Kookaburras

2009-10-29T21:47:00.002-04:00

I think that sounds better than "Ticks and Leaches." More on this disgusting part later...

It's been three weeks in the land down under, and it been a real enjoyable trip all around. The first five days in Brisbane were a nice change from Maine and New York. Ocean breezes, River views. And lots of parklands nearby to go leisure birdng. Oh, and the 85 degree weather is nice too.

Two of the crew were already there when I arrived. We met up the morning I flew in, and I managed to survive most of that day...but I collapsed sometime in the afternoon after a brief birding excursion. The next day we were all rip roaring ready to go, and went out, you guessed it, birding again.

Even the common birds are nice and exotic! Those first few days had a quite a few new birds for me (I am much farther south than my last trip here). I also saw some familiar friends, like the rainbow lorikeets and the Laughing Kookaburra (you did know that was a bird, right?). I never get tired of their call.

By the 13th of October, 5 of the 6 of us had met up in Brisbane, so we had a last hurrah and did a day trip to birdwatch and koala watch. And yes, I have seen a wild koala! We also managed to see a Tawny Frogmouth, as well as the Variegated Fairy Wren, among other new birds. It was a great way to spend our last day in Brisbane. This day ended with us all going out to eat dinner and ice cream too, knowing it would be our last chance till near Christmas (Chrissy, here). Then it was off to Wallaby Creek on the 14th...

Our two weeks up here have had lots of fun things, and some not so thrilling things. Ticks, for one. Leeches, for two. At least the both of these itch...so one finds them soon enough. Removal is another thing.

The Bowerbirds, Kangaroos, and Joeys make up for that, though. I pass a mob of Kangaroos twice a day on my bower route. And it's always fun to see the unusual things some of these birds collect for their bowers. I have found a cow ear tag, legos, clothespins, candy wrappers, pens, and other man made objects, in addition to the natural objects like feathers, snail shells, and flowers.

The other advantage of my route walk is getting very fit and well prepared for future backpacking (tramping) in New Zealand. Carrying an 8 kg (17 pound) battery (sometimes 2) up a hill nearly every day sure helps build leg muscles rapidly. yesterday was the first day I noticed a difference in fitness...I felt like I was flying up the hills without the batteries.

Not much else new to report. No pictures to be posted anytime soon - our connection is slow, and I am one of seven needing to use this thing today. I have plenty of photos though, including the aforementioned Koalas, Kangaroos and Joeys, and Kookaburras. And today I got good shots of the wedge-tailed eagle.

The best things so far? It's a toss up, but the Fairy-wrens on our front porch rank up there. And the Rosellas (parrots) seem more vivid and colorful than anything I saw in Costa Rica or Ecuador - including the Scarlet Macaws. Though they don't quite match the hummingbirds.

World bird list update. I have seen about 40 new species of bird so far this trip. There are plenty more "common" birds I haven't gotten yet...I expect once I start some bird blind watches, I should see them. I should not have a problem reaching the goal of 1200 for this trip. The best life birds are the two fairy wren species, and the rosellas.

Another end, another beginning...

2009-10-07T01:54:00.004-04:00

End of field jobs are always a bit, well, sad. I know I have a choice in the matter in how I go about making a living, and I really enjoy all these jobs I have had.

And you can probably tell that Maine was awesome. It is hard to put into words. My coworker and I got along famously. And it was great that it was just the two of us on the island most of the time. It allowed lots of time for meditation, relaxation, and just chillin'. And cooking, too.

It was hard to leave. I hadn't been that relaxed on a field job in a long time.

It was hard to say goodbye to Metinic. I am a 'mountain lover'...yet, that island has a strong draw. It wasn't just the lack of insects, lack of ticks. It was all the little things, that taken individually, aren't much, but together, were so much more.

It was the lack of TV and internet. It was having only the noise of lobster boats during the morning, and after that just the gulls and surf. It was incredibly nice neighbors. It was the odd song sparrow song. The occasional chickadee calling. It was the infinite stars at night. It was the sunsets and sunrises.

In sum, a northeast paradise.

Farewell, Metinic. I hope I have an opportunity to come again.

And so now, here I am. It's 2 am...and I am restless again. I fly out in about 6 hours for another grand adventure.

I hadn't planned on doing any more volunteer jobs. Ecuador and Costa Rica were awesome ways to contribute my own money to conservation causes (well, the airfare, anyway). Ecuador gave me more refinement in field identification...and totally got me hooked on listing. Costa Rica gave me a great idea of how many birds can be found in just a small area.

After guiding this past winter (my god, was that really 6 months ago I was there?!?!), I definitely feel guiding will be my future. To that end, I was planning to devote this winter to guiding applications, and trying to make it work. And then my friend sent an e-mail...

...and life threw one of those unexpected curveballs...

...without going into too much detail, I was on my last night in Costa Rica, and my friend asked me to come down to Australia to help with her Master's project. I had tried to go last year as well...but funds were falling way short. I told her I would consider it after I looked at airfares...

...I took the cheap airfares, good pay in MO, and my 11 years of longing to go back as the sign to go. So I'm going. With a trip to New Zealand tacked on the end for fun.

It will be hard to again be away from family and friends for the holidays...and this year I will be missing all of them. But camping out in New Zealand on New Years Eve sounds like a fantastic idea...and perhaps it is a sign that 2010 will be another good year.

And thank you, again, AC. You know who you are and why. You put things into words that I feel, but can't seem to express. It makes me feel better about these choices I am making.

And thank you to everyone else...this amount of travel is tough at times. Living out of a suitcase isn't all that fun at times. But because many of you take the time to send me an e-mail here and there to say that you are enjoying reading about my adventures, it helps so much. I don't feel so far from home when you do that.

I bid you g'day.

More Firsts

2009-09-25T21:20:00.001-04:00

September 25, 2009...it was a legen....

...wait for it...

...almost there...

...DARY day.

A short background. On the 24th of September, it started as a somewhat calm day. We caught a few birds...about 25 if I recollect correctly. Over the course of the morning here on Metinic, the wind was gradually picking up, blowing from the south at about 10 miles an hour at times. We had a few birds flying around here and there, including a few raptors on the island.

At around noon time, we closed down the banding station. At the same time, we noticed the wind beginning to shift, and the seas get a bit choppy. The wind began to blow from the west, and over the course of the afternoon, it moved to come from the north to northwest direction. And the wind was building in intensity as well.

Our personal weather station from the front yard on the morning of the 25th. Winds were blowing between 10 to 20 mph from the north. Overnight, the maximum wind speed was 25 mph. At the banding station, it was windy, but not overly. It is slightly on the lee side of a north wind due to a mild ridge, and we have some mist nets that are sheltered from any wind.

For those who are bird biologists, you know what this means. Let me sum up the important detail: a previously south dominant wind, turning to the north in front of a cold front.

The definitive "fallout" conditions.

For the uninitiated: a fallout occurs with migrating birds. Songbirds (warblers, vireos, thrushes, etc) fly overnight, and prefer to fly with a tail wind. BUT, when the wind is really strong, they can sometimes get blown off course, and will land on the first land they find when they get tired. I have never experienced a full-fledged fallout before.

Until today. Wow.

We have 18 mist nets. When we began our work today, we saw and heard birds, well, everywhere. We opened nets 2-11, and 17 and 18. The other nets were subject to too much wind.

10 minutes after we opened the first nets, we went to check them (so birds don't get injured by the wind while trapped in the net). We closed net 6 at this point, deciding it was blowing too much. So, down to 11 nets total. We caught 10 birds that net walk, or so. 15 minutes later, we went back to check the nets.

1.5 hours later, we closed all the nets. We had over 120 birds to band. Birds flew into nets while we were STANDING AT THE NET REMOVING A BIRD. Unreal. Birds were flying everywhere...you were almost afraid to take a step, because you might step on a bird.

Two hours later (this is about 1130), we finished banding the last of the birds from those first two hours. We could still see birds everywhere. So we decided, what the heck, we'll open 8, 17, and 18 again (the most sheltered of the nets).

2 hours later and about 150 birds later, we closed the nets again. And continued to band all the ones we caught. I have never walked to a mist net and had it SAGGING from birds. We would check nets every 10-15 minutes...and in these 3 nets, there weren't ever fewer than 10 birds in the net. Often 20 to 30, especially net 18.

And only one of the 271 birds we caught, was caught again later in the day. Birds were dripping off the trees, literally. While taking birds out of a net (especially 17 and 18), you could see birds hopping around in the shrubs next to the net. As you walked to a net, you would see the birds you were flushing/scaring fly over and around the net as well. While we would extract birds from a net, you would see another bird fly into the net. After you had cleared a net of birds, while walking back out from the net, you would see a bird fly into the net. While we were sitting under our banding canopy, I could see birds flying around in a small clearing next to nets 17 and 18. When we closed nets and had all our birds to process, we were surrounded by all the bags we had birds in. We sometimes had up to 4 birds in a bag (only friendly species, like warblers).

It was awesome.

It is so hard to describe how fun, exciting, unreal, unbelievable, and spectacular this was. Had we had any help (and more bands...we nearly killed all our size 0 bands), we would easily have topped 500 birds, or probably 1000, even. Part of me is thankful it was as windy as it was this morning...had it been calmer, we probably would have opened ALL the nets. I don't even want to imagine what our first net run would have been like.

My time in Cibola last year in southern California had NOTHING like this. When we did the math this evening, we had a total of 28 net hours, for an average of 10 birds per net hour. Which is unbelievably good. But this number is skewed...our forest nets usually don't catch much (they are there for quality, not quantity). Eliminate our 4 forest nets (which caught 3 birds) from the equation: you have 20 net hours, and 270 birds. That is 13 birds or so per net hour...which is an UNREAL number. Normally, the number will be between .8 and 1.2 birds per net hour.

And the extra cherry, on top of the regular cherry, on top of the whipped cream, on top of the ice cream sundae which is my life...

I got number 1,128 for my world life list, and number 425 for my North America bird list. After we were all done with the banding, we did a last go round, to check to make sure we didn't leave any bird bags on the ground near nets (it was that kind of day), to check to see if the nets were still furled ok, and to return the net clothespins (we put them on the bag so we know what net a bird came from). As I walked along the forest nets, I saw, perched on a branch just above eye level, with my naked eye, one of the most handsome warblers of the northeast:

A male Black-throated Blue Warbler. Even with the unaided eye, the bird is unmistakable. I don't count birds "in the hand" on my life list...it has to be a free flying bird. I did my little life bird jig, and returned to the banding station for the rest of the clean up.

A fantastic day.

And tomorrow, we may have a repeat. We still have a stiff north breeze. Isn't life wonderful?

Time is a-flyin' by

2009-09-24T22:30:00.002-04:00

Island life has it's benefits.

Sometimes you realize you are the only person on the island. 360 acres to oneself. Feels good.

No computers or TV to distract oneself.

Gorgeous sunsets and sunrises. And nothing to stop me from pausing to watch them.

The friendliest neighbors you could ever meet. And having them about a mile away...not too close, not too far.

And wonderful, WONDERFUL bird life.

This has been a job of many firsts for me. I am working in the northeastern US for the first time. It is the first time I have worked on a banding station as my primary responsibility. Cibola NWR in SoCal was a banding operation, but I was working on the telemetry and foraging aspect of the project. I have seen 8, count 'em 8, new species for my US life list, and 7 of these are new for the world too. Though I haven't gotten a Puffin yet.

I have seen another 4 species for the first time in the hand. I have also handled for the first time on my own large woodpeckers (not the easiest birds to handle), hawks, and waxwings. And with luck, my first shorebirds soon too.

Our operations here are going very well. Our station is up to 63 species so far, which ties the species record set at one of the other islands (Seal Island) last year or the year before. And we haven't got some of our northern species yet (namely, the finches).

Sometimes we even catch birds we don't even know what they were. Such was the case of the Bobolink we caught, and the Pine Warbler. These birds look a bit different in the fall than during the rest of the year.

I am trying very hard not to count down my time for my next trip too much...but it is hard. Especially since today I realized in 2 weeks, I will be in Australia. And that I leave my island paradise here (no palm trees or white sand beach...but it is still paradise to me) in about a week. Wow. I will really miss it here...but thankfully the next trip is right afterward, so I won't have too much time to think about it.

And yes, I really do hope I can be up here again next year. I feel very conflicted...it is very hard for me to express just how fantastic it is out here. The mild inconveniences (no running water, using an outhouse) don't faze me in the least. Doing laundry by hand is something I got used to in Costa Rica...and what else will I do with my spare time here? And I get to listen to the ocean and the gulls and other birds at the same time...so it's not all bad. At the same time, I know I would really like to get settled more.

Why is this becoming so difficult?

Perhaps it is that, right now, I can't imagine another life. Field work has been my life for the past 7 years. Wow...full time for 7 years.

No wonder I may need help breaking the cycle.

Exciting times in Maine

2009-09-10T20:51:00.002-04:00

So this post won't be going up until I am already done with my field work up here. But better to write it now, so my current thoughts (on September 10) are written.

So, after hurricane Bill passed us by, we were brought back out to the island, and I have been here (Metinic Island) since. Though I am only 5 miles from the mainland, it can seem much farther away at times. Which is a nice feeling. Any groceries I need I send a list to the Refuge biologist or manager, and they pick things up before they get onto the boat to come out to us. Then I give them a check to pay them back. A nice system...and my experience in Hawaii gave me good practice on planning ahead. But at least here we have a full kitchen: oven, stove, and refrigerator (important for keeping the beer cold!).

Right now, we are only doing passive passerine banding, capturing some resident birds, but now mostly migrants. My colleague here is a great teacher: mist net extraction has always been my weakest skill set, and I FINALLY have a teacher who is patient to help me get better. Most days we are not catching that many birds, especially the last few days. The wind has become an issue. Even though it is mostly from the north (excellent for migrants), it has been a little strong, so that we can't keep all the nets open. But the first day with the north wind...WOW! What a day (this was September 6th). We only opened half the nets, and doubled our best day for catching. We caught 102 new individuals of 23 species! Included in this was our 2nd Prothonotary Warbler of the season! For those non-bird nuts: the nearest (known) breeding area for this bird is New York state (I believe). So we are a bit north and east for these guys.

This hasn't been the only odd bird caught up here. A couple of days ago we caught a Rufous Hummingbird. This bird's nearest breeding area is western Montana(!), though it has been found in recent years as a regular migrant in Pennsylvania and New York. But again, we are a bit north for this bird. One of the other islands up here (Petit Manan), which is even more north from where we are (we are south and west of Acadia National Park, Petit Manan is north and east of the park), caught a Lark Sparrow! Nearest breeding area is eastern Indiana.

Yeah, crazy stuff! Other highlights recently include a couple of Flickers (an oversize woodpecker), and a Sharp-shinned Hawk. Both wonderful birds.

And I have added to my life lists! Being on the ocean has its benefits. My first week here, I saw 7 new species for the US, mostly from the boat on the way to and from the island. These include the Common Eider (of eider down fame) and Common Tern, that breed on the island. Also regularly seen on the water are Black Guillemots. We have a lot of Whimbrel here on the island, fattening themselves up for the long trip south. I saw my first Storm-petrel (Wilson's), first Jaeger (Parasitic), and the Northern Gannet to round off the trip. It is awesome up here!

Which makes me wonder if I might decide to come up here next summer...for the entire summer. Words cannot describe how awesome this place feels. It is very relaxing up here (though I do wish I had more reading material). The weather is perfect...though as much as I mentally prepared myself for the cold, 50 degree nights have taken some getting used to. And September is the perfect time to be on the coast of Maine. This was the right place to come for the 7 weeks I was without work. And of course the ocean is right there...a bit chilly. But most of you should recall that I am a Marine Biologist by degree...and I forgot how much I enjoy being on the ocean (I may prefer it over the mountains...but it's a toss up).

Most of my afternoons now are spent watching the shorebirds fatten themselves up on the shore. Once I choose my seat, I can just sit and watch, and they will come nice and close while feeding, knowing I am not a threat till I move. Fun...and they are called "peeps" because, well, that is the noise they make while foraging.

Life is good up here. I'm trying very hard not to count down my time to Australia...but right now it is less than a month away, and for so many reasons I can't wait to get there. But there are lots of things to distract me in the meantime.

A Last Hurrah?

2009-08-24T11:58:00.006-04:00

I have been meaning to make a post for the past couple of weeks. With the travel recently, and lack of Internet...it just took a while. I had intended to try to compose this and edit...but it looks like it will be stream of consciousness, with a point (I hope).

I've been doing a lot of thinking recently.

As you all know, I really enjoy all the field work I have been doing. The last few weeks in Missouri were quite fun. My field partner and I finally had some free time, since we only had a few nests to follow. So we got out to see some of the surrounding area. Right about that time I was really starting to think about where my life was going.

I am definitely not as young as I used to be. I also have begun to realize that working as a full-time field tech will never pan out into something I can do full time. On top of this, guiding in Costa Rica this fall was so much more fun. Even though it was "work", I really did enjoy myself every day much more than on a field job. Having new guests every week to help me experience things anew. As well as never knowing what to expect each day. Every day was a wonder.

On top of this...the field tech life gets a bit lonely at times. There are places that I have been that have just rocked, and I did not mind spending it alone. Atop Blackrock Pass in Sequoia-Kings Canyon comes to mind. Also on that trip was my camp at Columbine lake. But of course these are both during a trip I took after a job was complete. But even doing field work...one is alone most of the time, and I do enjoy those times. Perhaps this is why Hawaii was, and will probably remain, my favorite field job of all time. Though we worked alone in the field watching our birds, we met up back in camp and had the evenings together. This was the perfect balance.

At the same time, these past three years have seen me in some fantastic locations: Hawaii, Ecuador, Costa Rica (three times!), Panama. And now the coast of Maine. And soon Australia and New Zealand. These tropical trips have been beyond wonderful. But there have been some long and lonely bus rides at times. And when there hasn't been anyone around at night...no one to converse and interact with. One can only write in journal for so long at night. And I can't spend every night at the local watering hole.

It is hard to settle down, or even to think about doing so, when I pick up and move every few months, with no home location. The last relationship I had ended poorly - and the travel was definitely an influence on that. And I have met wonderful people these past few years on my field jobs...but I inevitably conclude what's the point, since I will be picking up and moving again.

If I make guiding a more permanent venture, I can be settled a bit more. And perhaps see my family more.

Does this mean an end to my field jobs? Doubtful. I do still have to pay the bills. And being a volunteer in Australia and then taking a personal trip to New Zealand means I will come home in January needing to find paying work expeditiously (but I am preparing for that by saving a lot right now). On top of this, I forgot how much I love the coast of Maine...and these jobs are here next summer if I so choose, I believe.

That being said...when I return home in January/February, I will be devoting a significant amount of energy applying to guiding organizations. I will probably not plan on being a full time bird guide. I really enjoy doing that, but I want "adventure travel" to be a major part of what I do. There are a few companies I have in mind that do packages that include backpacking as part of the trip, and those are the type of groups I will be focusing on. I don't think I will land anything full time right away. I have not been this nervous in a while. Perhaps next year at this time I will have finally settled somewhere.

So, the last hurrah is not here in Maine. At least not right now. This is a fantastic place for me to spend the 7 weeks I had free after Missouri. The island I am working on (Metinic) is fantastic. I forget how much I like having to ocean outside. We even all went swimming (briefly) on Wednesday and Thursday. And then got evacuated as a precaution on Friday due to Hurricane Bill. We head back out tomorrow (Tuesday). But the time there was, and will be, awesome. No highways. No trains. No planes. Crashing surf. No light pollution at night. And the unusual night noises of the storm-petrels coming in at night.

For a last trip though, I think Australia and New Zealand will be fantastic. I look forward to working with my friend again, and getting out and wild in New Zealand. I haven't done a backpack trip in over a year now, and I can tell. The backpacking I do is my therapy for everything and anything.

Happy trails. It will be a while (about 6 weeks) till I can post again, I suspect. But who knows what the hurrican season will do to us up here.

The next 6 months will be rockin'!

2009-08-06T16:47:00.006-04:00

I have no idea where to begin! My last massive e-mail was a while back...but there just hasn't been much new to report since then. That all changed last week...

Missouri has been fun, somewhat unexpectedly. I was all prepared for a summer of really hot and really humid when that heat wave hit in mid-June. It never felt that hot on the Osa Peninsula in Costa Rica...but then, down there, I hardly ever worked between 9:30 and 3. We got through it ok, and since that heat wave, it has been pleasantly comfortable every field day!

We are down to our final week here. We both found a lot of nests, but in a short span of time, our number of active nests collapsed; we are both now down to 3 each, and it will be a race to see if they finish first, or we leave first.

In spite of all the frequent weekend days we would sometimes have to work (to check nests), I have found time here and there to get off Peck Ranch and see some nearby areas. I took a much needed day hike on the Ozark trail one day. This past weekend I joined a friend of mine and we took off to see Elephant Rocks State Park, and Johnson Shut-In State Park. Beautiful areas...in spite that the rest of this part of Missouri had the same idea. I miss the lonely parks out west...

But, there was lots of good news to be found for me early this week. I was concerned that I was going to be unable to have work up to when I leave for Australia and New Zealand in October. That worry ended on Monday...I will be heading to Maine immediately after I am done in Missouri to work a fall coastal migration station.

Words cannot describe how stoked I am! It means I will be getting paid right up to when I leave for Australia, I get to work in a completely different region, and I will get to see new birds! AWESOME! And with luck, one of the new birds will be my first Puffin!

So, this means I have a little more spending money for Australia and New Zealand (my boss and I had the same first thought: BEER!). I won't have those itchy travel feet I always get when I am not working...Maine should do a good job of taking care of that!

I hope this answers many of those questions I have been getting lately on what I am up to.