The Eternal Flame: Wayne County and Economy of Scale Birding

North Carolina is a land of many wonders, wonders that are horizontally spread. The outer banks and sites like Cape Hatteras are famous for their getaways and pelagic birding, while the inner banks offer their own liminal brand of beach life. The coastal plain and Piedmont areas are marvelous watersheds of agrarian life, and some of the best stretches of Appalachia just through the western border. Time spent in the Great Smokies is among my favorite, and I yet pine for a trip to the outer banks. Most of my time with family in Carolina is spent in Wayne County, in the heart of the rural plain.

Eastern Phoebes can be found throughout pretty much all of this various habitat in the southeastern states. This commonality is more appreciated in winter, perhaps, as there are few Flycatchers then and one should never go too long without.

Wayne County is wet. It is woody. It echos with firearm discharges on Christmas morning when everyone and his mother tries out their new presents. It is also the site--and maybe you've heard about this in Legendary Magazine, ABA Smack-down, or simply hovering in the ether above Lake Michigan--of an epic struggle for eBird supremacy. For the last few years the coveted-if-not-heavy crown of 'By Species Leader' in Wayne County rested upon the ordained head of one Matthew Daw. His infamous reign rested on a cunning and cruel record of 96 species up through 2011. As county leader, Matthew Daw was cold. Some say he didn't even bother to bird in Wayne anymore, that he was once green and good but turned up his nose for the lascivious bird-scene in the Triangle area. Others say he was cruelly meticulous, a veritable Sheriff of Nottingham in Wayne County determined to spook and flush all the birds away before anyone could approach his record. 

*(Author's acknowledgment: Matthew Daw is probably, in actuality, a super nice guy).

The people needed a hero, even if most of them didn't realize it when I asked or introduced myself. By way of reigniting my own lackluster birding, much less birding leadership, it became my pre-New Year's resolution to usurp the crown, free the land, and impose a much better form of county listing tyranny in Wayne: one that recognizes me, Laurence.

Golden-crowned Kinglets are of little concern to most listers on anything grander than a Day or Site list. This is not because they are not cool birds--they're golden--but rather because they are common as hell.

Wayne is a pretty small county in a state made up of 100 relatively small counties. It has neither coast nor mountain nor desert, but one large river, a few lakes and reservoirs, and one State Park. Birding in Wayne County is thus largely restricted to a few elements by virtue of good and accessible habitat: birding Cliffs of the Neuse State Park, birding the Goldsboro Wastewater Treatment area and adjacent constructed wetlands, and then cruising the farmland and fallow fields with their border-woods that surrounds all the rest of it.
Sitting on 92 species, my endeavor was to bird the hell out of all these areas in between cramming biscuits and collared greens into my face and then having to hustle it off at the Goldsboro YMCA, and also finishing up Christmas shopping. The first two settings, Neuse SP and Water Treatment, provided the best numbers of new county birds. The third element, random rural birding, probably provided the most satisfying.

Before we go any further though I must share this image of Tufted Titmouse. This bird was not a county bird nor in any way relevant to this story, but somehow I have never photographed/posted TUTI on this website before. I did not even realize this at the time or I would've tried harder.  In my humble opinion all Titmice should be Black-crested or Bridled.



For picking up waterfowl, there's no place better (or, really, much at all) than the water plant and nearby run-off wetlands. This really should be scope-birding, considering the areas are gated off, but I had neither scope nor bolt cutters, so distant binocular views it was! Finding some species of duck was tricky; I still don't have Gadwall here. They're much more skittish than in Arizona, and I suspect this corresponds to the preponderance of hunting in the area. Redheads and Scaups were ticks from this raft.



Flying over the wetlands were lean-looking Turkey Vultures, which were not new, and stocky-looking silver-fingered Black Vultures, which were.

The wetlands also offered up petting opportunities for North America's most vitamin & mineral laden rodent, the Nutria. As I understand it, they were introduced for fur farming and are a destructive invasive species given their propensity for burrowing and eating delicate water plants. With those large orange teeth it's also a mug only a mother could love...and momma still makes them move out of the house.



In a way I've been talking down WC birding, which is not my intention objectively but just a result of comparative resources and space. These restrictions actually make one focus and maximize resources; it's essentially patch-birding highs strung together.
That being said, it was also with humility and foot-in-mouth that I logged a County Bird AND Lifer at the ponds. Palm Warbler. How did I not have Palm Warbler? Unhook your trailer and GO man!
Anyway taking photos with a foot in one's mouth is tricky business but PAWAs are cool birds, seemingly comfortable tail-bobbing and feeding in a variety of settings.



At times they seemed to be doing fly-catcher behavior, as do Yellow-rumps, but also foraging on the ground like Pipits or Larks--both behaviors unbecoming of many other Warbler sp. Truth be told I had kind of forgotten about these birds being here in the winter. Winter warblering just isn't really a thing. I am ashamed, but I'm also operating on a pretty low level of bird-awareness anyway. Most importantly, it was great. Birding is goddamned great.



Cliffs of the Neuse, where I had logged lifer Barred Owl and crushed Prothonotaries in summer months, was also productive. This stretch of the Neuse river itself is pretty gnarly and with disappointing to no water birds. The surrounding woodlands are great, both in terms of scenic easy walking and avifauna. Blue-headed Vireo was a solid CB, as was a weirdly high-perching and stationary Fox Sparrow. That bird stayed treed, silent, and still for like 10 minutes until I moved on. Weird.

Fracking is still a hot topic of environmental and economic concern, but drilling sap wells is largely unregulated. This suits Yellow-bellied Sapsucker--the most cowardly of woodpeckers--just fine. YBSA was another CB, one of those birds common enough to be found in the right habitat on any given day with some time and perseverance, but not necessarily found on any given walk in the park.

Other CBs here included PIWO along with White-breasted and Brown-headed Nuthatch (: ::sigh:: : yes, I know).

Those photos weren't very good though, so here is a Carolina Wren, perhaps one of North America's most crush-able bird species in general. I have no other way of fitting this bird into the narrative anyway, but it's good to have more Carolina flavor.

CAWRs are dapper, loud, curious, and largely unafraid. They are a true staple and lynch-pin of southeastern woodlands, and even if they go unappreciated at times, life would be sad without them. A Top 3 North American Wren? One could argue.

Somehow, Carolina Chickadee did not end up as the state bird for North or South Carolina. To be fair, South Carolina does have the Carolina Wren in lieu, but how was this not snagged by NC?? Clearly that election was hacked by Russians to boost the chances of Red Red Cardinal.

Living in a rural area, one often drives through open land, some of which is undeveloped and some of which has development since run to ruin. A derelict homage to the tobacco industry and its declining relevancy, there are many old tobacco barns and other abandoned buildings dotting the farmland. 

Apparently, having never learned my lesson from horror movies, "Deliverance," or common sense, these seemed like great spots to check for owls at dusk. To my surprise I checked near two dozen tobacco barns and found nothing, not even whitewash. On the upside I was not killed. With all their rafters and openings in the ceiling they seemed ideal, but many also smelled strongly of their former wares so, I dunno, maybe that's a turn-off to Barn and Great-Horned Owls.

After good work at the aforementioned sites I was up to 104 species. Eclipsing Matthew Daw and all but erasing him from the history books. Already the land of Wayne County seemed a bit brighter, a bit more fecund, a bit safer. But shoot, a difference of 8 birds? All it takes is one judiciously smuggled bag of 8 imported species from out west released and then photographed in one's backyard to catch up. Who would do or even think of doing such a thing? Matthew Daw would, obviously.

Thus the quest continued and nothing less than a distance of 10 species would be acceptable. A happenstance flock of Purple Finches supplied #105, which put me within striking distance on Dec. 29th. Traditionally, one strikes gold with a rich shining vein in the rock, typically a granitic or quartzite compound. Sometimes one strikes gold from the depths of a river bed. In my case, I struck gold here, not in a stately tobacco barn with history and tradition behind it, but a lean-to shed with old vacuums, toilets, and maybe a meth lab in it.



Who else is into that sort of stuff, apparently? This Eastern-screech Owl, who was grumpily perched in the left corner of the shed upon entering. There's a sub-theme in this post, as readers have no doubt wryly noticed, of logging birds either as lifers or CBs that are probably overdue. This EASO was a CB and only not a lifer by virtue of hearing one outside of Kerr WMA in Texas a few summers ago. From that initial exposure onward (and in that case, I was the one exposed) I never experienced EASO again, not even with the help of birder friends and a very reliable stake-out in Austin.

I'm probably not the only bedraggled fellow to enjoy catharsis in that dingy shed, but Specialness is not an exclusive place or feeling. It's been said many times but it holds: Owls are the best.
Relatedly, in addition to setting a new record for Maricopa County, Arizona legend Tommy Debardeleben also completed his quest in 2016 to see every North American owl. I highly recommend reading about it HERE for great story and great owling info.

 

I was also able to pick up a few more species--grassland types and a Sharpie--at the now-created birding spot of Walker Family Cemetery between La Grange and Goldsboro. For any Wayne Co. birders who might be reading this, check it out; It's a good little spot with lots of relative variety.

Thusly into the new year do I sit, mighty on my throne of 111, eminent in Wayne County and indigent in most other things. There is still much work to be done and I do not know when next I shall do it, but in the mean time Wayne County, be at peace.

Quality over Quantity

As you have probably noticed, or perhaps noticed like 6 months ago and stopped caring about 4 months ago, there hasn't been much quality or quantity on this site in a while. Understandably, you have probably moved on elsewhere due to my inattentiveness and lack of affection. You've started seeing other websites that have more going on, more excitement and rich content like you promised yourself you would have as a young, deserving, impassioned bird-blog reader with so much life and love yet to give. It's only natural and I am not jealous; I just hope we can still be friends as I promise to do a little bit better.
Instead of going into why and how life has been so busy, I'll just skip that--because I would not presume to think that is actually interesting to anybody else except my ever-loving Grandma--and get to the birding.

2016 was a crazy good year, CRAZY GOOD, for Arizona birding. Tropical storms blew Storm-petrels as far inland as Maricopa County, and there were numerous other rarities including Pine and Tufted Flycatcher (nesting 2nd summer in a row) and Lesser Sand-Plover. Of these I only snagged PIFL. Sometimes our own lives and movements do not coincide with the birds.
**Trying for the Maricopa petrel by skipping out from work early, I had a tire blow out on the way, obviously providential.

I did get out a bit towards year's end, first with the O.G. Butler Birder at the Santa Cruz flats between Phoenix and Tucson, and then joining forces again at the Glendale Recharge Ponds to start the New Year.

Pops has been Butler Birding since when TVs were operated with dials and there was only eleven species of Scrub Jay in the Americas.

The Flats have a couple migrant/vagrant traps that have notably produced Black-throated Blue Warbler and Rufous-backed Robin in recent years, both very good-looking and anatomically named birds in their own right. The vagrants are often just particularly sweet icing on the cake, a three-layered bird cake that is the mainstay attraction throughout winter months.

The soy and alfalfa fields around Baumgartner and Greene Reservoir roads are, without doubt, the best areas to view Caracara in Arizona. We logged 18 individuals in one large family group or flock on this day, and I've had high counts near 30 before. Interestingly, I see reports of these or other birds straying into nearby Maricopa or Cochise and Santa Cruz County much less often than I see reports of many Code 3 vagrants.
Whether they're falcons or vultures or something in between, CRCAs are loyal to their turf.

The other two layers of Flats birding cake are certainly less conspicuous by intent and design. Sprague's Pipits were thought to be occasional strays this far north, but they're now found with enough regularity and in large enough numbers in the area to be considered an expected wintering species here. SPPIs are also known colloquially as "5-inch Bitterns of the Barrens." Elegant skulkers.

 

Lastly, the mighty Mountain Plover, a bird perhaps with more affinity for dry crackly grass and furrows than even SPPI. Counts for this species in the area vary from a few individuals to 40+ in a given day. Much of this can be attributed to their camouflage and typically skittish behavior, as well as the relative inaccessibility of their location. Mostly I attribute it to the fact that they, unlike other birds, walk single file to hide their numbers.

Winter holidays were enjoyed in Carolina this year, where I spent time reestablishing my eternal legend as Wayne County, NC's ultimate top eBirder, but that is another post. Coinciding with my absence, a Long-tailed Duck was reported at the Glendale Recharge Ponds. This spot yields great water-birding (not illegal or unethical) and great rarities throughout the year. Typically the site itself is pretty ugly though, unless you catch it at sunrise.

The Long-tailed Duck was reported and confirmed on a remarkable day when, if memory serves, 2 or 3 others were also found across AZ. Mercifully and unusually, the bird stuck around for two weeks, and Pops and I set out early to nab it before heading in to our respective places of work. It was cool, peaceful, and pulchritudinous, except for the Least Sandpipers who were pretty certain we were going to eat them. It's unbecoming when other peeps have the startability of Killdeer.

We didn't have a large window in which to see the LTDU, nor particularly favorable conditions, but it was still pretty cool even without extra long butt feathers.

We happened to spot the bird just before direct sun-up, as it was transitioning from its tucked-away roosting spot and heading to deeper diving areas. The LTDU was chill on its own, but panicky Shovelers brought it to flight as well. Damn.

By time we had relocated the duck and cycled around Basin 3 the clouds had burned off a bit, but back-lighting is a merciless adversary. Once it gets going with its diving routine, LTDU does not let up! I was disappointed not to get better shots of the bird, but the behavior was pretty great to observe. We watched for another 30 minutes or so and in that time it would stay under for 20-30 second spells and never stay above water for more than 12 second at a time. Very go-getter. 

The Cornell Ornithology website is very enthusiastic about Spotted Sandpipers, and this is unsurprising given the lobbying powers this particular peeps species has. SPSAs are known to have at least 4 congressman in their collective pockets. Credit where it's due, they are one of few shorebirds with a breeding population n Arizona, though you have to hit up the alpine lakes to find them. Winter birds are closer by, but keeping with the theme of quality over quantity, they don't have the same dapper action.

Welcome back to you and to me and to the NSA and whoever else is here again! I am hopeful and optimistic that 2017 will have more birding and posting than 2016, despite the fact that Butler's Birds will be adding on another generation of its own this summer.
First bird of 2017? Dead Red-naped Sapsucker. An omen? Absolutely. Good or bad? Rain check.

July TFG Birding

If you are scope-less, shore-less, and/or south of the 49th parallel in July, your birding can be a dull affair. Many of the birds themselves are dealing with empty nest syndrome and can cope differently. Shorebirds deal with this by going on midlife crisis global tours from north to south. Flycatchers do this by making all sorts of incoherent and target-less vocalizations. Some birds, and some birders, cope better with the late-July doldrums than others.
Burrowing Owls spend a good amount of time subterranean anyway, and as such are less affected by the environment changing above them.

Acorn Woodpeckers, ever successful and gregarious, usually spend late July dealing with swollen family groups. The main problem is that dead trees do not directly replicate like ACWOs do, so sometimes the birds have to deal with overcrowding. 

Gray Hawks have to deal with much the same existential angst as always, namely, to attend Christmas festivities with Hawk family of Falcon family this year? Tough call.

Sulphur-bellied Flycatchers are especially grumpy come late July. I believe it is because their SE AZ woodlands are filled with one thousand and one shitty looking and sounding Western Wood-Pewees. I can sympathize. WWPEs or whatever the code is don't sound like Pewees and are very variable in plumage, but always drab. To make matters worse, the aforementioned Acorn Woodpeckers start to invade their cavities, or at least move into cavities near their own, and SBFLs are very protective and vocal about their neighborhoods.

If they cannot extricate or annoy the ACWO into leaving, Sulphurs often become irritated with each other, no doubt one blaming the other for leaving the cavity vacant and allowing the interloper  into their abode. It's trying times.

Even after some embarrassing displays of domestic distress, Sulphurs are still a Top 5 North American Flycatcher.

Broad-tailed Hummingbirds cope pretty well, in part because in places like Miller Canyon their food is provided for them and the rude Rufous Hummers are not yet unbearable. Life is always pretty good for Quetzalcoatl incarnate.

The end of July is tough. It's downhill now to the end of summer, to other journeys, work and hardships. It can be hard to get moving again, and sometimes everybody needs a little push.

Summer Carolina-ing

Another summer is wrapping up, at least in terms of vacation time, and as has come tradition now over the last three years, it's time to look back on some of the out-of-state vacation birds. An awesome May trip to Oregon yielded little real birding time and even fewer birds, and a couple weeks in Carolina was also preoccupied with many other worthwhile things, so in keeping with this year's new normal, there's not a lot to show for the birds, but we shall not go too quietly into that goodnight, not when the neighbors are obnoxious anyway.

Part of the birding dilemma in Carolina this summer was that I didn't get there until the doldrums of mid-July, which means the Warblers are as high as they are elevated, and most of the visible birds are immature caricatures--and before you ask, I did not get to the coast. One such bird that seems like a caricature but isn't is the Pileated Woodpecker, mightiest and punk rockiest of WPs this side of the Atlantic. 

Ever dutiful, I made one check-in trip to my local stomping ground in Washington, Carolina: Goose Creek SP, where one can get very crushy with PRWA and YTWA in June. Both of these warblers were scare to come by now, but a broody snapping turtle was pretty cool. By the way, you should watch this quick video of an alligator snapper biting a pineapple, and then never swim in murky water again. A young Pewee had no effect one way of the other. 

For part of Carolina time we stayed in the Asheville area, which truly does live up to its reputation for good brews, food, and music, and well as most exposed private parts per-park per-capita in the U.S. The proximity also enabled some lovely mountain hikes.

I'll quit whining about the lackluster birding, especially because the cataracts were 10/10.

 

Canada and Black-throated Green were the only Warblers I could pick up on the high trails (with a briefly vocalizing BTBW causing extra aggravation). That misty, haunting ridge forest, among the red fir and blankets of moss, is intoxicating nonetheless, and does still boast some vocal birds. Winter Wrens were seemingly everywhere along the trails, though getting them in decent light was yet another matter of inverse frequency.



The singular call of Veery was most welcome after a year away, and while some special sneaking was still required, I actually had much better views of this species than in previous years. 




 My salamander game was weak this time around, but how about a peeping Garter?



Although I couldn't materialize Eastern Screech-Owl, some of the best overall birding was in the relative lowlands around the property in the Asheville area. Indigo Buntings do not seem to stop singing...like ever. They were singing away on top of Mt. Mitchell, the highest point east of the Mississippi, and singing away in even greater numbers along the yard-side woodlands. Matching them in sound if not by sight were Field Sparrows. They deserve respect to...I guess.




The best sighting of the trip was a Scarlet Tanager couple, a species I had only seen once before, and poorly, as a vagrant in Arizona. I had all of about 5 seconds in the rain with this bird at eye level but good gracious gravy what a looker. I don't even mind anymore that I've had to wait like 6 years and many east-coast trips to see this bird again. All is forgiven for your scarlet letter, Natanager Scawthorne.

How often does one get up close and personal with a Luna Moth? Not often in my case, so that was also cool.
But you're thinking, "Butler, you kiss-ass namby pamby, what is with this vacationing and no birds? We want better. We deserve better. We're already dealing with the 2016 election depression, Chinese aggression and destabilization in Europe, a lackluster Olympics, and now this pablum!? You are a cad and in better days, would hang by the neck until dead."
Well, I agree, and this weekend is a birthday weekend, which means I can go birding in SE AZ and not no one can stop me not no how. Solid.