THE LAST OF THE PUTCHKIE BIRDS - FINAL DAYS ON ST. PAUL

There may not be pumpkins on St. Paul, but fall has finally come to the Pribilof Islands...

Leaf peeping in the Bering Sea - wormwood

And it's been a great fall for me - a potential ABA first (Common Redstart) this week, as well as 5 new year birds last week. And on this, my 3rd and final trip to St Paul this year, the putchkie is more alive with birds than I've ever seen it...

Ruby-crowned Kinglet - taking shelter deep in the putchkie

As well as Red-throated Pipit, Fox Sparrow, and even a shorebird...

Sharp-tailed Sandpiper

Although one of our best putchkie patches was flattened overnight...

Putchkie desert

It wasn't long before we caught up with the culprits - one of St. Paul's herds of introduced reindeer

Reindeer doing the putchkie putsch

The day after the Redstart find is our last day on the island. And the weather is terrible - driving rain and strong winds. I'm guessing we're not going to be finding many birds in this. Before heading to the airport to check in, Doug decides to swing by the cliffs to check on the sea (strong SE winds tend to push pelagic birds onto the coast.) As soon as we park, we can see a thick line of Short-tailed Shearwaters streaming just offshore. "Everyone out!" shouts Doug - this is our best chance for Mottled Petrel - a lifebird for half of us. It takes Doug about 2 minutes before he spots one. They're hidden among the slightly larger shearwaters, their gray upperwings camouflaged perfectly against the turbulent, leaden sea. Fairly distant views, but a very nice last day surprise!

Enjoying Mottled Petrels and thousands of Short-tailed Shearwaters.

What a great bird to end our trip here. Or is it? As we're heading towards the airport I have a strong feeling that I should stay. After yesterday's Redstart, what else might be on the island? 
I've learned this year to follow my instincts - especially in coming back to St. Paul twice this fall, which I hadn't planned to do at all. So, when I get to the airport, I manage to switch my ticket for Friday, giving me 2 more days on the island. It's a risk - it means I'll miss the pelagic out of Ventura, CA on Saturday, but still make the San Diego pelagic on Sunday (assuming I can get off the island on time.) And I won't be the only birder still here - Norm Budnitz is arriving on the plane that everyone else is leaving on. I had fun birding with Norm in Gambell this fall. 

Later that day, after the plane has left, we manage to refind the Common Redstart making Norm only the 10th birder to see this bird in the ABA region. We also have a fly-over White-tailed Eagle at the same spot. But nothing new for me.

Most of our days on St. Paul are the same - we cover the same birding hotspots, hoping for something new to have dropped in. A staple among hotspots is the crab pots - which we check every day. With no trees on the island, these stacks are the nearest approximation - offering shelter and elevation. Despite some amazing finds over the years, they've been quiet during my 3 visits. But that doesn't stop me getting excited each time we approach - the anticipation building as one person zigzags through the lines of crab pots, while the rest of us watch to see if any birds are flushed. Today, it's my turn for the zigzagging. I'm not even a quarter of the way through when Scott raises his binoculars and shouts out excitedly, "Eyebrowed Thrush!"

Eyebrowed Thrush - a vagrant from Asia

High on my wish list!

And that's it - my last bird of the trip, and my last bird for the Pribilofs. I've had a great time here from the melting snows of the spring and the arrival of the nesting alcids, to the burned foliage of the fall, and the wayward Asian vagrants. I've seen some amazing birds, and birded with some amazing people. I'll leave with a lot of happy memories.

And a lot of that success is thanks to the guides, Scott and Doug (and Cameron Cox in the spring), for working so hard every day to find good birds. Thank you guys!

Doug Gochfeld and Scott Schuette

As for me - I'm heading south to California and a couple of pelagic trips. Looking forward to seeing trees, drinking lattes, and wearing something other than waterproof birding gear!

+ + +

BIG YEAR LIST: 722 + 2 provisional (Rufous-necked Wood-rail, Common Redstart)

NEW YEAR BIRDS (2): Mottled Petrel, Eyebrowed Thrush

COMMON REDSTART - 1ST FOR THE ABA

"Whatever it is, it's a first for North America."

These are the words of dreams - most birders can spend a lifetime birding and never get to hear them. Today - I did.

After a very uneventful day yesterday I was beginning to regret my return to St. Paul and the Pribilofs. After leaving only a few days ago to head up to Barrow I decided to return - to find an island with fewer birds, fewer birders and a lot more wind. I'd been lured back by tour leader Scott Schuette who'd predicted vagrants from the recent west winds.

We're standing on the lee side of a slope near "town", which offers some protection from the brutally windy conditions. Scott and I have just flushed a bird, Scott made the traditional alarm call, "bird!", and I managed to get on a reddish-brown bird as it bounded away before disappearing downhill. It looked interesting. (Interesting here means it might not be one of the ubiquitous Lapland Longspurs.)

Scott assembles the group and we head after the fleeing bird. As we stop to survey the lower hill, I scan with my slope - more a force of habit than an expectation of actually seeing anything. Most of the good birds here - i.e. those that have just survived a long sea crossing from Asia - are probably buried deep in the vegetation, sensibly hiding from the elements. But I do spot something - an incredibly bright bird sitting atop the putchkie (celery.) With bright orange flanks and blue-gray upperparts I recognize this bird from a trip to Vancouver earlier this year...

"Bluetail" I shout somewhat resigned to Scott. 

Scott looks in the scope, "That's not a Bluetail, it's some kind of Redstart. Whatever it is, it's a first for North America." 

Several things start happening at once - Scott's on the phone to Doug, our other guide, telling him to get here asap with a camera. The group around me - 6 other visiting birders - start to comprehend the significance of Scott's words, I start trying to get digi-scoped pictures, and everyone's crowding around, desperate for a look through the scope at a bird that has never before been recorded in our birding region.

I take another look - of course it's a Redstart. I notice the bright rufous tail now and the delicate head pattern.

And then it's gone - disappearing toward the dunes. And then Doug arrives. We're all very aware of the need for good pics - otherwise we've all just been looking at a bird that will never be accepted. Scott and Doug formulate a plan to avoid pushing the bird further out in the dunes - and we start slowly combing the area. 

"There it is!" Doug sees the bird flit over another dune. With Scott on lookout on a neighboring hill, we gently edge over the rise and look over into the sandy hollow. We don't see the bird. We're looking down into a great natural wind-break. If I were a bird - this is where I'd be! "On the left!" Bill Frey has the bird, close to us, on this side of our dune. We all briefly get on the bird before it disappears again. Scott has photos. That means we have evidence that this really is happening. We start allowing ourselves to actually enjoy this.

We don't relocate the bird. We check some nearby areas, and still don't have it. We decide to come back later - hoping the bird will relocate back to its original location. We head off to try again for a mystery bird we've seen twice at Hutch Hill but not identified. It's a brown bird (bunting?) that we've only seen in flight as it flushes. We have everything set up - cameras, eyes, a perfect flushing formation. Everything, that is, except the bird.

We head back for the Redstart (it's now 5:30 - we originally found the bird at 2:20pm) and walk the area as we did when we found it. I stop near where I first saw it and scan - and immediately spot the now familiar bright colors on top of the celery, "It's back!"  

With longer and better views if becomes clear that the bird is probably a Common Redstart - of the eastern subspecies samamisicus. There's a pale panel in the wings (characteristic of this ssp) - on the edges of the tertials. The upperparts are slate-gray, and the flanks orange. The bird has a fuzzy white supercilium mainly in front of the eye, which meets across the lores. The chin is dark and flecked with white. In flight, the long red tail and rump with a darker central wedge is obvious. The bird is probably a young male. The samamisicus subspecies ranges as far east as Central Asia - that's a long way from here! This bird doesn't even earn an entry in Mark Brazil's "Birds of East Asia" that we're using out here. 

The lack of a strong white secondary panel rules out Daurian Redstart - probably the most likely Redstart based on geographic range (it winters in Korea, Japan and China.) It's not a Black Redstart - there's orange on the flanks and chest much higher than the pectoral line on a Black.

For most of the birders here, tomorrow is their last day. Larry Peavler and Paul Sykes have been here 3 weeks. For them, the long wait for a good bird is finally rewarded. Hopefully the bird will stick around allowing others to see it (luckily with only 3 flights a week, tomorrow is a flight day), and hopefully we have enough documentation for this bird to be accepted. 

I've spent a lot of time in Alaska this year, on my own Big Year quest. Most of it has been spent waiting for good birds to drop in. Mostly, they don't. Occasionally they do - and then the excitement is extreme and palpable. But today was something different. Today, the birding in the Bering Sea was at its very best. 

+ + +

BIG YEAR LIST: 720 + 2 provisional (Rufous-necked Wood-rail, Common Redstart)

NEW YEAR BIRDS (1): Common Redstart (provisional - potential first for the ABA.)

BIRDING IN THE PRIBILOFS - SOME BIRDS!

And we're back! This time, as promised, there will actually be some bird stuff, bird discussion, and even some pictures of birds. Hard to believe we found time between all the shopping and fine dining, but there were some pretty good birds to see on St. Paul this week.

On our first day of birding here I managed to catch up with the Common Rosefinch which had been found a couple of days before. It was feeding on the putchkie and hanging with the Longspurs.

Common Rosefinch (Photo by Doug Gochfeld)
Note the small beady eye, wingbars and very rounded bill shape

Another bird I was keen to catch up with was Common Snipe - a bird I'd missed at Gambell. Common Snipe love the muddy fringes of marshy pools, where they sit probing around for food while hidden in the grass. The only real chance you have of seeing them is if you almost step on it and flush one. Superficially similar to our Wilson's Snipe, they have a distinctive white trailing edge to the wing and whiter underwings - both of which you need a good view to see. The good news is that we flushed one right next to us that first evening. The bad news - I couldn't get on the white in the wing (a combination of poor light and some rather amateurish binocular work). I only saw the silhouette of a disappearing snipe. Foiled again!

Stomping through marshes looking for Snipe

It's often windy on St. Paul. And often extremely windy. While this is a pain for the humans, it's actually helpful in finding birds. Birds aren't stupid - they'll take advantage of natural wind-breaks to seek shelter. Polovina Hill is a great place to avoid the wind, with one side of the hill gauged out and quaried for road material. As we pulled up to the hill on the second day, Scott Schuette refound a bird I'd really hoped would stay for my trip - a Gray-streaked Flycatcher.

Gray-streaked Flycatcher- an insectivore from Asia 

(photos by Laura Keene)

That's two new birds in two days! Pushing my luck, we tried again for the snipe. This time though we had perfect light to see the white on the wing. The only thing missing was the wing. And the bird. Anyone care to guess what my nemesis bird might be this year?

Birders come to St. Paul to see Asian vagrants - birds that have got lost, or more likely blown off course, from Asia into the Bering Sea. (Russia's "only" 500 miles away.) And as birds are on the move to winter grounds, fall is a great time to be here. Among the more common vagrants are Bramblings. There were at least 6 over the past week. These are black and orange finches that breed in birch forests on the Russian side of the Bering Sea, and apparently often get lost in it...

Brambling - one of the more common Asian vagrants

One of the really rare birds on most visitors' wish-lists is the White-tailed Eagle. This bird turned up last spring - a first for the island - and stayed. It's been seen all over St. Paul since then. It's not known where or even whether it has a regular roosting spot. There's no real strategy for finding it although (i) being outside and (ii) looking up can both dramatically increase your chances. As can a little luck. And we had some of that on the second day...

White-tailed Eagle (sub-adult)

(photo by Laura Keene)

When there weren't birds to find there was plenty of other wildlife to enjoy. The Pribilof Islands host the bulk of the world's breeding population of Northern Fur Seals. In summer, the breeding "rookeries" are teeming with these slippery guys...

Northern Fur Seals

Fur Seals used to be hunted for their incredibly thick pelt (300,000 hairs per square inch!) They were one of the main economic incentives for the US to purchase Alaska from Russia (1867.) Within the first 20 years some 2.25 million seals were killed, mostly on St. Paul, and mostly females, which also caused their dependent pups to die. There's now less than a million of them in the whole of the Bering Sea / Pacific - and they're protected under the Marine Mammal Protection Act.

Seal pup - born this year.

With that number of seals in the water, it's no surprise that they attract predators...

Orca (Killer Whale) - on the lookout for seals.
Orcas are toothed oceanic dolphins and apex predators, having no natural predators themselves.

Of course - there were land predators too...

Arctic Fox - apparently not very white here

(Photo by Laura Keene.)

And some more biologically confusing predator-prey relationships...

Paul Sykes with a crab.

(Or crab with a Paul Sykes)

On day 3, we headed to Marunich, the northern shore of the island. Offshore was a huge flock of King Eiders (all in eclipse plumage.) Onshore, was an equally large flock of weirdos in winter plumage...

And it was here, at a small grassy pool, that I finally saw my Snipe. Gavin Bieber flushed a bird in the marsh and I managed to get on it as it banked and showed off its bright white trailing edge before disappearing over the ridge. Nemesis no more!

Common Snipe (common in Asia, not common here!)

Strong white trailing edge on the bird as it flies away.

(photo by Doug Gochfeld of a bird we saw later in the week.)

It's hard not to notice the bright colors as you're walking around the island. From spring through fall, there's a changing parade of flowers. At this time of year - purple is in...

Monkshood - named after the shape of the petals.
Toxic. Its Latin name, Aconitum, means "without struggle" hinting at how effective a poison it is. Also known as Wolf's Bane as it was used to kill wolves (in Eurasia, not St. Paul!)

Lupin - a legume.

And the colors weren't just restricted to flowers.

Rainbow (photo by Laura Keene)

With ever-changing weather and cloud conditions, we were often treated to some great skies.

Hutchinson Hill, rising up on the northeast peninsula, is another great wind break. A cut in the hill offers a great hideaway for birds - especially as the guides put out seed and suet to entice them in. Every day we'd creep up on the cut and slowly peer in - hoping for something special...

Peering into the cut

Usually we'd "only" find the ubiquitous Lapland Longspurs and Snow Buntings. 

Snow Buntings - one of the more common birds on the island

But today Gavin Bieber had flushed a bird in the vegetation opposite. And it was a potentially interesting bird. We walked out in a line to where it landed. "Pipit!" Gavin shouted as a bird flushed, circled overhead and eventually landed on a rock, giving us enough time to photograph and identify it...

Olive-backed Pipit!

Thankfully landing on the only visible piece of ground!

While shorebirds migrate earlier than passerines, and most have already migrated by now, there were still plenty on the island to keep us busy. Rock Sandpipers are one of the most common nesters on the island - I remember their cute wing-flapping displays from the spring. This time of year though, they're off the tundra and busy feeding on the beaches, handsomely dressed in their pale winter plumage...

Rock Sandpipers (Pribilof subspecies) 

The dark bird at the front left is a mainland bird.

At this time of year, huge flocks of Red Phalaropes stop off on the island, after leaving their breeding grounds in the high arctic. (Red-necked Phalaropes - which do breed on the island - have already left.)

Red Phalarope - an abundant migrant

Other common shorebird migrants are the "Pectails" - the similar Pectoral and Sharp-tailed Sandpipers.

Pectoral Sandpiper
Dark, dense streaks on the breast

Sharp-tailed Sandpiper
Bright rufus cap, buff breast lacking streaks

On my shorebird wish-list for the trip was Gray-tailed Tattler - a rare vagrant that's reasonably expected here (they had 2 in the week before I arrived - of course!), and one that I'd missed in Gambell. So I was very excited when Gavin found a Tattler on the 4th day. We jumped out of the bus, spotted the bird, and then heard it give its distinctive call. Distinctive, that is, for Wandering Tattler...

The wrong kind of Tattler - Wandering Tattler

(Still darn cute, though!)

But on the penultimate day, while scanning through a flock of Rock Sandpipers, we got a clear Gray-tailed, and my first new bird for October.

The right kind of Tattler - Gray-tailed Tattler!

OK. I can tell some of my regular readers are getting bored with this dreary report...

yawn...

After a lackluster month in Gambell, I'm very happy I decided to come back to St. Paul. I got the two shorebirds I'd missed in Gambell (Common Snipe and Gray-tailed Tattler) as well as three really good rarities (Common Rosefinch, Gray-streaked Flycatcher and Olive-backed Pipit) plus the Stonechat in Anchorage, which I wouldn't have seen if I weren't coming to St. Paul. Of the 9 new birds this month, 5 were on St. Paul.

St. Paul. Very happy to be back!

+ + +

BIG YEAR LIST: 719+1

NEW YEAR BIRDS (5): Common Rosefinch, Gray-streaked Flycatcher, Common Snipe, Olive-backed Pipit, Gray-tailed Tattler

THE PUTCHKIE PUTSCH - BIRDING IN THE PRIBS

Even this far north there aren't many mid-day departures that look like this...

That's because Penair has continued their incredible streak of canceling all my flights to and from St. Paul this year. This time though, the culprit wasn't a volcano. Or even fog. This time, they couldn't find a plane to take us in. And really, that's the crucial part of any flight reservation - having a plane. And more bizarrely, after a cancelled 11:45am scheduled departure, our new flight time was the next day. At 4. *AM*. Yeah. Welcome to Alaska!

So, after a fantastic spring trip here, I couldn't resist coming back to the Pribilofs - those far-flung islands hidden amid the Bering Sea. Since I'm going to be in Barrow in early October, and the Lower 48 has been pretty quiet for rarities this month, I thought I'd return to St. Paul for a week, hoping for an Asian vagrant. Or five. I was also excited to meet up with Chris Hitt, who's birding on the island for a couple of weeks. Chris did a Lower 48 Big Year in 2010, and saw a record 704 species. He was here with friend and fellow Big Year birder, Dan Sanders...

The 700 Club - Chris Hitt (Lower 48, 2010, 704 species) 

and Dan Sanders (ABA area, 2005, 715 species.)

Also on the island were two veteran birders...

The 800 Club
Paul Sykes (883) and Larry Peavler (882)
(Paul finds birds by scaring the hell out of them with his impressive horn.)

The island looks a lot different compared to spring! The snow and ice is gone, replaced by aquamarine lakes, blue skies and knee-high green vegetation.

No snow!

A typical birding day starts before sunrise when one of the guides picks us up in the tour bus. 

This bus is full of birders eagerly waiting for me.

(Note to self: must get out of bed more than 10 mins before departure time)

First stop is breakfast. It's hard to choose where to go, as there are so many options for eating out in St. Paul. However, nothing can compete with the eggs at the Trident Fish Cannery. So, that's where we go...

We rush off the bus, hoping to be first in line...

What? No eggs benedict today?

After waiting for the sun to finally rise (we're so far west in the Alaska time zone that sunrise is well after 9am), we drive out to bird the island. Sometimes this could be done from the bus...

Red. An excellent choice for birding clothing.

But invariably we'd have to actually get out of the bus. We'd then do the "Putchkie Putsch" - a cruel and sadistic game invented by the birding guides on the island. Putchkie is the native name for the tall, evil celery plants that suddenly spring up when the snow melts. 

 Putchkie - the local celery.

It looks harmless but will easily break a leg if you get tangled up in it. 

(And then it'll reach down and strangle you to death. Probably.)

In this game, the guides convince naive birders that there are actually birds hidden in these vast and lonely patches (there aren't.) The game starts with one side lining up in formation at one end of the field...

Starting position for the Putchkie Putsch.
(Nick Cooney is confidently playing left flank.)

And then Go! Players start walking through the leg-tripping grass, and back-breaking hummocks. Soon, there'd only be a few left standing...

Veteran Putchkie Putschers - Chris, Doreene and Laura.

The game would end when no birds were found and with players limping back to the bus.

Game over. 

I'm kind of surprised they still play this game here. Last week, one of the players didn't do so well...

This player broke one of the cardinal rules of the game - they found a bird.

(Replay showed the bird to be a Middendorff's Grasshopper Warbler)

By mid-day we'd all be exhausted from the Putchkie. We'd consult Yelp for a lunch place. Often, we'd head to a local hole in the wall place, some well-kept secret - 

The Trident Fish Cannery - a great little spot for lunch.

We had excellent guides on the island - Scott Schuette, Doug Gochfeld and Gavin Bieber - who worked hard to find birds. Often in unusual places.

Looking for birds under boards.

Doug with crate expectations.

Crab Pots - a great place for birds to hide.

Getting desperate. Catching birds in the grass

At times though, I felt they were just a bit too optimistic with potential birds... 

And on really slow days, we'd resort to that old favorite - whacking the ground until we scared up a bird...

Gavin Bieber employing the ground whacking technique for finding birds.

(No birds were harmed in this photo.)

After a hard day's birding, we'd head out to dinner. Our favorite evening restaurant was, umm, what was it called? Oh yeah, the Trident Fish Cannery.

Birders enjoying the local cuisine.

From left to right - Lynne Miller (of the ABA), 

Karen O'Neil, Ellen Wiggin and Janis Cadwallader.

And, we'd often finish a great meal with a trip to the local espresso place...

Chris Hitt, Lucie Bruce and Susan Jones (ABA board.)
Bill Scheible in the background.

When there were breaks in the birding, we'd hit the local stores. I'm mean store.

Or check out the wine selection at the local liquor store...

(Seemed to be out of vintage wines this week.)

OK - I hear you. Enough with the intro and the lame humor. What about the birds? What did you see? Well, I saw a lot. But that'll have to wait for the next post. I've just found out there's a new restaurant in town. Apparently they serve Putchkie Pie.