Well, it has happened once again, I’ve lapsed in my blogging. I’ve been through Utah, Nevada, and back to California again. There have been great birds along the way. I’d love to share some of the photos I’ve gathered along the way, but I want to share an experience I had yesterday. It was new and exciting for me, and carries potential for a whole new avenue of learning in my bird study.
I’ve yet to venture into the ocean to bird. I’ve only made it to the coast. Seabirds fascinate me, and I plan to make a pelagic tour soon enough. Until then I am standing on solid ground, watching what I can. I’m not seeing any true seabirds such as the Black-footed Albatross or Wilson’s Storm-petrel, but I am seeing unfamiliar birds passing over the ocean at a distance. My hawk watching instincts have kicked in on a whole new group of birds.
All the training I’ve had with raptors comes into play with passing sea migrants. There are particular field marks to pay attention to, but after enough exposure, I am sure I will be making my ID’s from shape, form, and flight style.
While watching for a few hours yesterday, I saw a massive loon migration. Every few minutes, a group averaging ten birds would come through, low over the ocean. It was a chore to check my field guides and learn what to look for with identifying passing loons. I started getting a handle on separating breeding plumage Pacific from Red-throated and Common, as there are some obvious in flight plumage differences. In the afternoon sun, however, I began to realize that lighting was confusing things.
A field mark for identifying Pacific Loons in flight is two prominent white lines on their scapulars, coupled with a dark throat. It seemed to me that every passing group was a Pacific, even the birds that resembled Red-throated Loons in shape. After some thought, I realized that the harsh sun was likely giving a glare off of the other dark backed loons, making it appear to have the white scapular markings.
There were other passing migrants, and shore dwellers. I had two Whimbrel fly through, a good number of Pigeon Guillemot, and of course many many gulls. I admit, I have not spent the amount of time studying gulls as I should, but I am working on it. What a daunting task.
I’ll be interacting with the ocean quite regularly for the next few months. I hope to find the time to share everything interesting and exciting that I come across. And the road continues ever onward.
The genus Toxostoma is comprised of some of my favorite birds. At the top of these species is the Le Conte’s Thrasher. I love this bird in part because it is rather difficult to find. I’ve spent a great deal of time in the Sonoran Desert, frequenting the sandy creosote scrub that is this birds habitat. Still, I’ve only seen a handful of this desert specialist, and each time has been memorable.
Recently, I found two birds outside of Palm Springs, CA, one of which was singing atop a creosote. I had never heard the song of the Le Conte’s. It is the same wonderful wandering warble of other Toxostoma species, yet it seems a bit more delicate.
One of the reasons I am so fascinated by this bird is its habit to run across the sand between Creosote shrubs as it forages for food. It seems to prefer running rather than flying. I can’t help but think of the Greater Roadrunner every time I see this behavior.
I find it incredible that this bird is only twenty miles from another southern California Toxostoma species. The California Thrasher is much like the Le Conte’s in appearance, but it frequents the chaparral hills of southern California. This pair of Le Conte’s Thrashers I found are on the western edge of the desert in the extremely arid white sand hills amidst Palm Springs iconic wind mill farms. Its proximity to the California Thrasher’s range is incredible, as the species is very different in habits and habitat. These two species are prime examples of evolution, adaptability, and the affects of environmental pressures.
A few days ago Caitlin Davis and I took a walk along the beach near Santa Monica looking for some spring migrants and remaining winter residents. It was a fairly productive walk with Brandt’s Cormorant, Red-throated Loon, Whimbrel, Western and Clark’s Grebe, Glaucous-winged Gull and more. The highlight for me was a pair of Surfbirds, one of which had a bum leg. The birds leg was lame, and it travelled about the beach without skipping a beat by hopping. It kept up with its compatriot, and seemed lively and healthy.
I was impressed that the bird was healthy, given that it lacked one leg. I appreciate the reminder of the adaptability that is common in nature. Of course, if one cannot adapt to maladies or changing conditions, one dies. It is nice to see a success story every once in a while.