FLORIDA - RETURN OF THE NEMESIS

I've swapped the giant redwoods of Northern California for the sticky mangrove swamps of Florida. And an Asian rarity for a Caribbean one. The early morning mist is slowly lifting off a pond in Matheson Hammock Park, 10 miles to the south of Miami.

And I'm hoping the mist is the only thing coming out of the pond...

I'm here looking for a La Sagra's Flycatcher - a bird normally found in the moist forests and mangrove swamps of Cuba, the Bahamas and the West Indies. They're an annual winter rarity in southern Florida: I chased two in the spring and missed both. I'm hoping it'll be third time lucky today.

La Sagra's are one of the Myiarchus family of flycatchers - a group of birds that look very much alike: brown head and back, yellowish-white underparts and a reddish tail. Thankfully they're easily separable by their diagnostic calls - in the case of this bird, it's a high pitched "wink, wink" (listen here at xeno-canto.)

It's early. The sun is barely up and birds have yet to stir. As I'm waiting for the bird, I'm reminded of another morning, back in January, waiting for another Myiarchus flycatcher to start calling. That was the Nutting's Flycatcher in Western Arizona, near Lake Havasu. At the time, it was just a fun birding vacation. If you'd told me then that I'd end up doing a big year, I'd have laughed at you and / or used a few choice expletives. But the success of that trip, and a few trips to Canada in the winter got me thinking: if I were ever to do a big year, this would be a great start. Sure, there was a bunch of stuff that I hadn't chased - SIberian Accentor, Spotted Redshank, Citrine Wagtail, Gray Heron, etc (all birds that I'd look back later on with regret...) But still, it wasn't a bad start. 

So, in some ways, my accidental big year, the one I never intended, started with a Myiarchus flycatcher, and is almost about to end with another. Once I'd decided to do a big year, around April, I wrote up that Nutting's Flycatcher trip and intended to write up all the other early trips. But a big year is intense - being on the road over half the year, traveling almost 200,000 miles by plane, another 50,000 by car, throw in a few boats here and there, barely left me enough time to write up my current trips. Or feed my cats. Or see my girlfriend. (Order of those activities not related to importance.) Some day I'll write up that first part of the year...

"Wink."

Was that it? And again. "Wink. Wink." Sure sounds like a La Sagra's. The bird is calling continually, seemingly moving around in the mangroves ahead of me. I nervously edge forward, not wanting to scare the bird. And then I see it - a largish brown and white bird, sitting erect on a branch. It's the La Sagra's!

La Sagra's Flycatcher. Brown head with (lowered) crest at the back, long bill

and silky-white underparts (most other Myiarchus flycatchers have more yellow underparts.)

The tail is obscured, but would show central reddish tail feathers.

It's very active, mostly staying out of view in the mangroves. They're known for being skulking (many visitors have left here only hearing it) and so I feel very lucky to have seen it so well. It's very vocal, calling vociferously for several minutes at a time, and then silently disappearing for 5-10 minutes before its next recital.

La Sagra's Flycatcher. This view shows more of the crest 
on the back of the head, as well as the pale wing bars.

What a beautiful bird! And such an engaging personality. It seemed to sense me, and spent time quizzically encircling me, trying to work out just what I was doing. I wonder how surprised it would be to know that the large creature with the funny metal and glass object was admiring it, enjoying its presence, and adding it to a list of 746 other species of birds seen this year. Yeah - it would probably think that was kinda weird. 

As I was about to leave, I heard a rustling in the mangroves behind me. I peered in, wondering what kind of animal this could be, only remembering foolishly at the last minute about the alligator warning. Would my big year end in the jaws of a gator? Would I ever be found? Do alligators eat Swarovski scopes or just Kowas? Would someone find my cell phone and at least prove that I'd seen the La Sagra's? Why am I wasting time asking all these dumb questions when I should be running? Wait - can't alligators out-run humans? Enough with the questions!

And then the mangroves opened emitting a dark and hungry beast. It looked a bit too dark for an alligator. And too hairy. But I guess that must be the local subspecies...

Matheson Hammock Alligator. Hairier than your regular alligator.

(And *possibly* not as dangerous)

It didn't manage to outrun me as I shrieked back to the car.

This wasn't my only target stop today. There was another bird in Florida that I still needed - the White-cheeked Pintail (also known as Bahama Pintail reflecting its origin.) I'd chased this bird twice in the spring, at Pelican Island NWR. I thought it'd be fairly straight-forward - it's a duck, they sit on the water, pretty hard to miss. Wrong! This bird was only seen at one pond and only for a brief period each day. (No one had discovered where it was hanging out for the rest of the time.) There was an eBird report on Friday, from the same location, suggesting the same bird was back. Would it be third time lucky on this bird too?

Pelican Island NWR is about 3 hours north of Miami and was the first national wildlife refuge in the US, established in 1903 by the executive order of the president, Theodore Roosevelt.
The pond where the duck had been frequenting was named after the recent 100 year anniversary - the Centennial Pond.

I arrived at noon, and nervously walked out to the pond. Would the duck be there this time? A quick scan across the water showed it to be the identical to all the previous times: Pintail free.

Centennial Pond - White-cheeked Pintail free. Again.

On previous visits, there had been flocks of Blue-winged Teal - with which the Pintail would associate. This time - no Teal. I waited for 2 hours, during which nothing happened. Literally. Nothing. Time for a coffee break. Maybe the change of scene would cause some change upon my return? No - same old ducks.

I ran into local birder Doug Beach who mentioned another, much larger pool with a viewing platform, "Joe's Lookout" that's often filled with Blue-winged Teal. It was a mile walk through the mangroves, but since nothing was happening here, I thought it was worth a try.

Compared to Centennial pond, this new pond was alive with birds: lots of Blue-winged Teal, Green-winged Teal, Gadwall, Wigeon, Mallard. In fact, every type of duck you could imagine in Florida, except for White-cheeked Pintail. After an hour or so of searching it was growing dark. I admitted defeat and walked back to the car. Foiled again!

As the sun was starting to set, and the sky slowly moving through a kaleidoscope of color, I was thinking that every birder needs a nemesis bird. Well - maybe "needs" is the wrong word. But we all have them - birds that just won't show for us - despite much searching and chasing and other people seeing them without any difficulty at all. For a long time this year Mountain Quail was that bird for me. Guess I have a new one now. Who knows - maybe the bird will be back more regularly before the end of the year. It there are multiple reports in the next week or so, I'll probably give it another try.

Somewhere out there a White-cheeked Pintail is maniacally laughing to itself...

Last night, I got a text from Aaron Lang (of Wilderness Birding) to say that a Rustic Bunting was in Homer, AK. It's been seen today - and apparently has been coming into a feeder since the 11th. I could stick around in Florida for another day and another try for the Pintail. But I'm not feeling very confident. WIth only two weeks left, I have to prioritize birds - and the Rustic Bunting seems like a better chance. But it doesn't come easy: it's a whole day of 3 flights from Fort Lauderdale to Anchorage - getting in at 1:25 am on Weds. Then a 4-5 hour drive. Hopefully without snow or ice. Oh - and there aren't any flights out of Anchorage on the 18th, 19th, 20th...Nothing. Yeah - it's going to get harder to do big year stuff during the holidays. Maybe I could get a ferry home? Isn't that Northwest Passage thing open now?

+ + +

BIG YEAR LIST: 744 + 3 provisional (Rufous-necked Wood-rail, Common Redstart, Eurasian Sparrowhawk)

NEW YEAR BIRDS (1): La Sagra's Flycatcher

LITTLE BUNTING. BIG YEAR.

The drama and excitement of Adak, of birding in the far-flung Aleutians already seems a distant memory as Gerri and I are walking around Home Depot looking for a Christmas Tree. (Unfortunately, so is everyone else in Boston, and apparently, this is something that can't be done online.) There's a small flock of House Sparrows working their way around the chilly lot, and, like every other flock of birds I've seen this year, I can't help scrutinizing each one for something unusual. 

"What about this one?" 

"The bird on the left? Oh, you mean the tree?"

As I'm driving home, trying not to strangle myself on the precarious spider-web of string winding through the interior of the car that's hopefully holding a 7-foot Balsam Fir to the roof, I reflect on the change of pace to my big year. At this point, I'm in a holding pattern: waiting for something to turn up. I've been checking NARBA (North American Rare Bird Alert) and state listservs every few minutes. I'm turning into a nervous wreck waiting for my next birding fix. How much more relaxing it was finding our own birds in Alaska!

So - what do I have left for the rest of the year? What birds are still possible?

Probable (0)

After cleaning up on McKay's Bunting, Whiskered Auklet and Whooping Crane recently - this category is effectively over. I've seen all the common north American birds (Code 1 and 2) with the exception of Common Ringed Plover. (I didn't go to Gambell in the spring, and I wasn't able to chase the one in MA (!) in May. This is a bird that isn't going to make a winter appearance.)

So, any new birds will be rarities (code 3,4 or 5)

Possible (2)

• Great Skua. This is a bird that's regular off Hatteras, NC in the winter. I'm talking to Brian Patteson about running a trip later in the month - which is how John Vanderpoel saw his Great Skua back in 2011. But - bad weather can easily cancel these trips.
• La Sagra's Flycatcher - almost a regular winterer in Florida (I chased two and missed both there  in the spring.) The question is, will one turn up before the end of the year?

Improbable - but not wholly impossible (10)

• Smew - Canada? No, probably not.
• Masked Duck - could be found in Texas during the Christmas Bird Count?
• Ivory Gull - another bird I missed by not going to Gambell, AK in the spring. Also, we didn't find one up in Barrow. Still - one could turn up in the north-east. Newfoundland?
• Taiga Bean-goose - 'tis the season for geese.
• Graylag Goose - a repeat of the 2011 Graylag in Canada would be nice!
• Hook-billed Kite - I tried last month at Anzalduas where one had been seen. They didn't breed in TX this year (the drought isn't helping.) My best chance would be to devote several days to hanging around Bentsen, Santa Ana, Anzalduas. The problem is I'm running out of "several days."
• Smooth-billed Ani - probably extirpated in Florida now, but there's usually one or two hanging around. Somewhere?
• Brown Jay - could come into the feeders at Salineno for the winter.
• Falcated Duck - the CA bird could return to Colusa for the 3rd winter.
• Little Egret - ok. Not very likely. But there was one last December in MA.

I'm at 742+3, which means I guess it's about time for me to start talking about the ABA Big Year record. I've tried to focus on my own big year, but it's getting harder to do that as I'm closing the gap on Sandy Komito's record of 748 (745+3) set 15 years ago. If the birds turn up, and I can get there fast enough, I could conceivably set a new record. The reason I'm trying not to get *too* excited is that I don't want to feel like I've failed if I don't break the record. Seeing almost 750 birds in one year can't be a failure. Heck, seeing over 600 is pretty darn good. Plus all those wonderful experiences that I've written about here - of far-flung places across this continent. I'm excited to be chasing the record - but that's not why I'm doing a Big Year. (But don't worry - that doesn't mean I'm *not* going to try - I'm committed to chasing everything now until the end of the month.)

I guess I should also start talking about Aplomado Falcon. I've had lots of questions and comments about the countability of this bird. I've seen the bird. John Vanderpoel counted it, somewhat reluctantly, arguing that Sandy did, and so, in the interests of a fair comparison of big year lists, he should do the same. Why the controversy? Well, Aplomado Falcon was essentially extirpated from the US by the 1950s (mainly through habitat loss.) A reintroduction program started in 1993 and birds are still being released today to support this population. The reintroduced birds are not countable by Texas, and thus the ABA (similar to California Condors - the reintroduced birds are not countable.) However, the bird can occur as a natural vagrant (from Mexico), but with so many released birds, it's impossible to tell a genuine (and extremely rare) vagrant from the much more common uncountable birds. Realistically, any Aplomado Falcon is likely to be a released bird or descended from one - and thus not countable. I'm still thinking this one through. It seems odd to include a bird on my big year list but not on my life list. I guess it depends on how close to the record I get! I'm hoping it's not all decided by an Aplomado Falcon!

I'm saved from resolving this mental pondering by the phone...

"Probable Little Bunting. Humboldt County, California."

That's John Puschock calling and he's just put me out of my nervous state of waiting. It feels good to spring back into action - to flex those well-tuned logistic muscles and plan a chase. And as I'm preparing to head out for California, I get news that a White-cheeked Pintail is in Florida - at Pelican Island NWR. This is almost certainly the same bird that I chased *twice* in the spring and missed. Maybe this is my chance for revenge? 

Little Bunting is a small bird of the Eurasian taiga, breeding in conifer clearings. And although it would be an ABA life bird for me, I've actually chased and seen one as a kid in the UK. It was coming into a feeder and I was struck by the delicate eye-ring, and the burnished face color. But that was over 20 years ago. It was about time to see another!

It's late when I arrive at Oakland Airport. Late enough for the predictably-bad traffic that snarls around interstate 580 to have unsnarled itself. I'm on the road by 11:30pm. I have 300 miles ahead of me - roughly 6 hours. I make the first 200 miles before I need to pull over and sleep. I've become an expert at reclining the front seat of the car, finding a position that's just about comfortable enough to sleep in, and staying warm when it's in the 30s outside. (A looted US Airways blanket is the secret!)

Beep. Beep. Beep.

I'm awoken by my 5 am alarm. Time to get back on the road. It's a dark road that winds through the redwood giants. As the trees encroach on the edges of the fog-draped road it takes all of my concentration to make each turn. I'm leaning forward, inches from the windshield, trying to find the way.

I pull into McKinleyville around 8:30am. The fog is lifting off, revealing a bucolic scene on both sides of Fischer Road - grass, cows, lazy egrets. I can hear the honking of (Cackling) geese in the background, and Killdeer calling and flying around, trying to make up their mind just which side of the road has the greener grass.

Fischer Road, McKinleyville, CA. Humboldt County.

I'm happy to see that there are birders here. And even happier to see that they're all intently  looking in the same direction: the bird must still be here!

I jump out of the car, and quickly locate the focus of their attention: a small sparrow-like bird with a richly-burned face. It's moving through a thicket of thistles.

Little Bunting! The bill is long and pointed. 
The nape (back of the neck) is gray, like a Clay-colored Sparrow.

It's pretty active, and soon leaps up - emitting a distinctive "zick" -  into the air and circles the field. As I'm wondering if this first view will be all I get, the bird seems to read my mind, banks, and flies back. This time posing on a wire fence:

Little Bunting. Notice the bright red-brown cheek and supercilium.

The tail is forked with white outer edges (very obvious in flight.)

Phew! What an absolutely stunning bird. I'd forgotten just how beautiful they are - and how rich the chestnut wash on the face is.

Although it's always an easier drive back after you've successfully seen a bird, I still had to fight the urge to sleep. Thankfully, I had a lot to think about. I'd received news of a La Sagra's Flycatcher in Florida - one of my "possibles", right on cue! I'm heading to Florida tomorrow morning - now with potentially two birds I need.

And with only 2 weeks left of my big year, the race is on...

+ + +

BIG YEAR LIST: 743 + 3 provisional (Rufous-necked Wood-rail, Common Redstart, Eurasian Sparrowhawk)

NEW YEAR BIRDS (1): Little Bunting