The Pilgrim's Progress - Flee to the Cleve

After a disappointing (again, only by Magee Marsh standards) Saturday, we rolled out to clearer skies on Sunday. Clear skies and 27 mph southerly winds. Dude.

When life gives you lemons, you scrounge up some sugar, squeeze hard, make a beverage, and you're good. But what about when life gives you lemons AND then 27mph sustained winds blow the sugar into your eyes AND also the lemon juice got in your eyes AND also it's still windy!?!? You gotta make like this Cooper's and chill. And I am not a chill person. I don't even like chili. 

We gave our morning to the Magee boardwalk again without anything new to show for it, and after another, even less productive swing through Metzger, decided to head east. We were both flying out of Cleveland the following morning, and figured the birding couldn't get any worse, and maybe we would get away from the Eerie weather a little bit. 

While boldly refueling at Chipotle, we picked out an en-route spot called Sheldon Marsh State Nature Preserve. This was the 5th State Park we checked out in 24 hours. Truly, kudos to OH for the well-maintained preserves. They have great accessibility, are clean, seem to be well-attended...just really excellent preservation ethos all around. East NC could take a few (hundred) notes.

The woodland trails were squishy and semi-flooded (alas, no Timberdoodles) and did not yield much, but they eventually spilled onto the paved trail through the marsh, all the way to the freshwater shoreline that hosts Common Tern and Piping Plover for breeding (at least, it might). It was a veritable swampy Eden, where the expected Egrets and Herons gamboled in the water lilies while Wood Ducks cruised the slime. 

There were also some threatened (but not threatening) Blanding's Turtles about, sporting their signature yellow throat and domed shells. These guys live 80+ years but take 15-20 years to reach sexual maturity. Basically they have human life cycles but more interesting necks (and ribs). The scraggy shrub along the marshes also hosted some accommodating Palm Warblers, which we had seen only fleetingly at Metzger Marsh.

Through the marshlands and the Erie 'inner bank', there is a rock jetty cutting out past a utility shed. Here was had some semi-pelagic flavor, or at any rate a nice reminder we were near a large body of water. Sorry you got such a blanding name, Common Tern. Red-breasted Merganser dodged a bullet there!

Sheldon kicked up several new species for the trip. And even if a non-lifer, non-FOY Palm Warbler is not much of a prize for OH in May, can't take anything from Sheldon Marsh. Check it out if you're in the area. Look up while exiting the outhouse (just make sure you are zipped first) and you'll see the resident park ranger:

After Sheldon Marsh we completed the commute to Cleveland and checked into our airport-adjacent hotel. It was 6:15pm or so, leaving a little under 2 hours of daylight. Our luck (or skill) had not yet matched our ambition, and we figured birding until sundown would be the best way to end the weekend. Like a chicken's stomach (full of grit and bile and probably corn) we sallied forth to the nearest hotspot, simply called Tyler Field. The field itself is just as odd sort of auxiliary soccer/frisbee green off of the greenbelt, but a pedestrian trail (Valley Parkway Trail) behind it cuts through nice mixed woodlot along the Rocky River. With fading light, we birded here all of an hour and fifteen minutes and honestly...kinda wish we'd just spent the weekend here!

We had great looks at a solicitous Barred Owl, saw Black-and-White, Palm, Yellow, and Yellow-rumped Warbler (matching all but the Nashville Warbler and Waterthrush from the trip), and clocked both Oriole species for the area. The sumptuous Baltimore Oriole was heard before it was seen. Although it also wasn't too much work to see it.

 

Icterids are a superlative family. The Blackbird genus boasts handsome, crisp plumage and widespread territorial success, harbingers of spring and freshly tilled fields and dairy farm sewage ponds. Meadowlarks are the very spirit of the Grasslands with their coloration, and their beautiful songs earned them not one, but two State Bird designations. But Orioles are still the best. Their tropical, flaming plumage sets fire to the canopies. Their long, mournful, warbling songs echo long after actual warblers are out of breath. It is a great injustice that they represent fewer State Birds and sports team than Mockingbirds or Cardinals.

Kinda crazy Baltimore and Bullock's Orioles were lumped for like 20 years. Lord Baltimore stands alone. 

We were returning to the car, sated with birds and ready for real food, when we clocked another interesting call. Like the familiar song of the American Robin, but sweeter, richer...as though a Robin became a professional instead of just an enthusiastic drunk at karaoke... 

But there was no way right??? It was 7:54pm and I had made peace with missing this bird on the trip.

It was. Unbelievable. Last bird of the day, last bird of the trip, a Cutthroat, at the death. This was the spark bird for me, the one 21 years ago that caught my eye and stole my breath and left that indelible mark on the soul. 21 years ago, while walking in the woods with family in upstate NY, this bird melted my face and left my forever unable to walk in the woods (or grasslands, or marshes, or parking lots) the same way again. I had not seen Rose-breasted Grosbeak since. Here it was again, the denouement of our Ohioan foray, resplendent even in the dying light. 

Honestly at 1/80 shutter speed in the dying light I'm surprised I got anything at all. There is much to appreciate in the striking pattern on this heavy-metal finch. In addition to the bold and contrasting colors, I admire the subtle asymmetry of the bleeding breast, down the middle but blotting out here and there stochastically, a reminder of the fundamental uniqueness of each piece that makes up the whole. How often do we see plumage coloration with undefined boundaries?

So often, experience falls short of expectations. There are many things I will do differently chasing migrants in May, many mistakes I made. But we also saw some great stuff, and the weekend was a treasure all the same. Time spent out looking is never time poorly spent; there's always something good among the flowers. 

Make it a Pair! The other Arizona Booby

A Booby on a buoy...in a way, it's a cliche pose. If one is lucky enough to see one of these birds inland, this will likely be the situation, but of course seeing one at all is not a likely situation. Seeing a Code 4 Blue-footed Booby in Patagonia one weekend and then heading west for a Code 3 Brown Booby in Havasu the next weekend is very most totally probably extremely unlikely, and yet it happened. 

After a fantastic trip down to southeastern Arizona for the Blue-footed, birding friends Tommy DeBardeleben and Magill Weber and I headed west last Saturday to make it a pair for the state. The tropical storms in the Gulf of California have made for some incredible finds these last several weeks, and knowing it may be another five years or so before we'd have an opportunity to get two Boobies in Arizona, the 2:30am departure time and the pessimistic weather forecast were no sort of deterrent.

We were also buoyed with confidence, knowing that the David Van Der Pluym and Lauren Harter, original discoverers of the Brown Booby and many other incredible finds in west Arizona, were able and willing to meet up and relocate the bird.
After an initially unsuccessful scan from Pittsburgh point at Lake Havasu, we were joined by David and Lauren. With their spotting scopes also trained across the lake, the Booby was soon located, and we were then able to relocate to Windsor Beach for the looks and photos shown here.

The overcast weather meant that photography was pretty limited, but it also kept the Havasu temperatures blessedly low. Since we were still treated to a great show of plunge-diving by the Booby, I was glad to have the cloud cover.
Without the wider context of this post, I'm not sure a lot of people could tell what they're looking at here. Obviously, it's a Brown Booby hitting the water face first, or maybe it's the Loch Ness Monster.

Tommy DeBardeleben, Magill Weber, and Lauren Harter are great birding buddies to have. Not only do they possess an encyclopedic knowledge of Arizona's avifauna (and most of North America's as well), but they all have nice spotting scopes, and they're nice enough to share, which meant the amount of extra equipment I had to drag around was pretty minimal.

The views of the Booby were pretty close if not crystal clear, and the lake itself looked very nice from our vantage point. You know it's a good day when you start off with an ABA Code 3 lifer and still have the rest of the day to explore the surrounding area.

Here's what a bunch of dorks look like while staring at a rare Booby, dorks with impressive Year lists that is!

I think we ended on 95 or 96 species for the day, of which this Year Bird Common Tern was another highlight. California and Ring-billed Gulls crowded along the Havasu shore, while the crack team of scoper snipers also picked out Common and Pacific Loons as well as a Year Bird Red-necked Grebe.

A fledgling Clark's Grebe was preening near the Windsor Beach shoreline too, apparently abandoned or maybe just trying to run away from its parents to teach them a lesson. We've all been there. 

We swung by Rotary Park in Havasu and the Bill Williams Lookout on our way back towards Phoenix, picking up some waterfowl and many other migrant songbirds, while always holding out hope for a Yellow-billed Loon (which was, of course, pretty loony of us).
Driving back through Parker, a small town southeast of Havasu, Tommy, Magill, and I also swung by the Ahakhav Tribal Preserve. With its adjoining rows of cottonwoods and willows, this park was an absolute blow out for Flycatchers, which meant I was in paradise.

I've tried time and again to articulate why I feel this burning love for Flycatchers, why this fairly dull Willow Flycatcher on a stick hold such fascination and allure. Words fall short, but the Ahakhav Preserve did not and we had seemingly dozens of Willows, Pacific-slopes, Phoebes, Vermilions, Pewees, and Gray Flycatchers. 

The clouds finally put their money where their mouth had been all day and precipitated, but that did not deter us anymore than it did the birds, evidenced here by this boldly colored and boldly perching Vermilion.



We're halfway through September now, and even though it's still plenty hot outside, I can't pretend it's still summer. I had some massive, grandiose birding plans at the start, most of which were scuppered by some unexpected health setbacks, but having picked up many year birds and some fantastic lifers, including two Boobies, I can say it was still a great summer's birding.

The Maine Event: Conglomeration of the Commons

It's a gloomy day here in Phoenix (finally!), with monsoon rain continuing through from the night before. Rather cruelly, these are some of the most special, cherished days in Phoenix, even as they impede outdoor activities. 

We had a similarly overcast day while in Maine a few weeks ago, when we were making a day trip from my in-law's house in New Hampshire. Gloomy weather is, of course, more expected there, and given our limited time it was also no reason to hold back on birding, so we went out slipping and sliding on the wet rocks of Seapoint Beach, with the promise of lobster shack lunch soon after.

Herring Gulls and Ring-billed Gulls were the most common birds, both foraging along the shore and floating out in the inlet. Being about two and a half weeks out of surgery, I was still pretty limpy and wimpy moving around the jetties, but this Spotted Sandpiper demonstrated how it's done (with style).

A few Common Terns added to seabird scene, as well as a couple Great Black-backed Gulls. All in all the diversity wasn't great, but this was the first time I'd seen Common Terns, their name not withstanding. Dainty and somewhat swallow-tailed, they're a particularly elegant member of the Tern family.

A small raft of Common Eiders provided another new bird, though they were not as playful nor as inspiring as the Terns. The largest duck in the Northern Hemisphere, according to Cornell, these were all females and/or immatures--not exactly the most colorful bunch.

Once they became more comfortable with me spying on them though, they resumed their diving, crabbing ways. Needless to say, with the family and I being in Maine already, this helped put everyone in the mood for some crustacean gestation.

A single Common Loon floated out in the inlet too. We had seen some beautiful Common Loons in their breeding plumage and with chicks on Granite Lake, back in New Hampshire, but unfortunately I did not have a camera at the time (which was also a good thing, as I was floating in the middle of the lake on pink pool noodles and the camera might've alarmed the Loons).

For a short while I optimistically tried to turn this into a Red-throated Loon, but it just wasn't there...

So the seascape had some fun birds but was a bit bleary. The crescent beach had plenty of seaside vegetation and shrubbery on the opposite side of the sand though, and while the Seaside Sparrows never sounded off nor came into view, there were plenty of Song Sparrows and Red-winged Blackbirds.
Exploring the paths through this overgrowth was an interesting experience. In some places the vegetation was high and thick enough such that none of the ocean breeze came through. It was thus quite sweltering and buggy in these tangles, rather unpleasant for people but perfect for other critters.

As I've mentioned before, birding in lush places like Pennsylvania, New Hampshire, or Maine, affords much better looks at birds like the Yellowthroat, in addition to the regional specialties. I never get nearly as close up, clear, or prolonged views of this otherwise common bird in Arizona, and it was very nice to finally get a satisfactory image, even with the overcast blur.

It was only recounting the birds and photos after the trip that I realized everything I photographed, including two new birds, had 'Common' in their name. Sometimes common can still be pretty cool, although I also might've picked up a common cold out there...