CRAVINGS FOR CRAVERI'S

California, with its warmth, trees and readily-available lattes, is a welcome break from the remoteness of Alaska. But as I'm sitting in traffic in Los Angeles, going nowhere quickly and surrounded by dufuses honking their horns, the novelty of civilization quickly wears off.

I'm here for a week of birding - a pelagic out of San Diego on Sunday, with a potential back-up mid-week with the ABA rally to the same waters. I'm hoping for Craveri's Murrelet - a diminutive alcid that breeds south of the border. In many years, this bird goes unrecorded in our waters - only rarely ranging as far north as southern California. But this year is, apparently, the best in 10 years for them. But it's getting late - if they're here, they're usually gone by early October. I'm also hoping for Least Storm-petrel, which are relatively common here - that is, if you can find the raft of roosting birds. And then on Friday I have a pelagic out of Bodega Bay, northern California - the premier port for sightings of rare seabirds.

There's a crisp autumnal feel in the air as I walk over to the boat at 5am on Sunday. And it's not without a huge sigh of relief that I find the dock populated by binocular-toting folks - a scene notably absent from the August pelagic on the same boat (Grande), which was cancelled without me knowing.

Our leader for the day is Paul Lehman, who's also just back from Alaska. After I left Paul in Gambell in mid-Sept, he had a pretty amazing end to the month - Siberian Chiffchaff, Lanceolated Warbler, Siberian Accentor, Ross's Full and McKay's Bunting.

What 5:30am looks like in San Diego!

Paul Lehman introducing us to the boat.

Despite the calm seas (1-2 ft waves) and good viewing conditions, the birds are fewer this time of year. One of the more common birds is Pomarine Jaeger, which seem to come and go continually throughout the day.

Pomarine Jaeger - showing the diagnostic long spoon-shaped tail feathers

as well as a real rarity for San Diego at this time of year - a Black-footed Albatross:

"Large white bird on the water at 12 o'clock!" As we approach, a Red-billed Tropicbird lifts off the water, instantly harassed by a Parasitic Jaeger.

 Red-billed Tropicbird (bottom) chased by Parasitic Jaeger (top)

Red-billed Tropicbird - showing the incredibly long tail

It's a year bird for fellow big year birder, Jay Lehman, and a pacific ocean tick for me - having seen one off Maine earlier in the year.

But still no shout of Craveri's.

We're heading east, to two underwater ridges or uprisings - the 9 mile bank and 30 mile bank. As we approach the latter, we start seeing single storm-petrels. We follow them until they coalesce into a roosting flock, or raft. There's a mix of Least and Black. Leasts are a year tick for me, and easily picked out from the much larger and longer winged Black Storm-petrels. Leasts look like little, fluttery bats, a similarity reinforced by their lack of an obvious tail.

Raft of Storm-petrels - a mix of Black and Least

As we're heading back, we start running into more shearwaters. Among a large flock of Pink-footed, we find a single Flesh-footed - a lovely chocolate-brown bird with pink base to the bill:

That's a pretty exciting and rare bird - but the reaction is nothing compared to what happened next. Paul spotted a Great Shearwater on the water, and suddenly the boat was alive with panicked birders - many of them local - getting the first record of this species for San Diego county. For most, it was also a state bird. And for others a life bird!

Great Shearwater - the first record for San Diego county and southern California!

These birds are common on the east coast, but very rarely round Cape Horn 

and make it into the Pacific Ocean.

To many, I'm sure this is more exciting than a Craveri's sighting - but, alas, on this trip I'll never know.

Fortunately, there's an ABA rally in town this week. And they're running a couple of pelagic trips for the group - essentially going out in the same waters as Sunday. Although the Craveri season is probably over, I decide to try again - and thankfully Paul manages to get Jay and I on the boat on Tuesday.

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Tuesday, Oct 15th.

It's a beautiful start to the day, and full of promise.

But with each passing minute that we're not getting Craveri's my hopes are slowly turning to despair. (OK - maybe not actual despair.) What if we don't see the birds today? Should I come back again tomorrow on the next boat? Can I stay awake on yet another pelagic? Will they serve fish tacos again on the boat today?

I'm chatting to John Puschock, who's one of the leaders on this trip, when the engines are suddenly cut. John signals me to follow him to the front of the boat. As I'm moving forward, I'm reminded of Paul Lehman's comments about how skittish murrelets can be - and that if we find them, we're not going to be announcing them on the PA system. And as I arrive at the bow, I can hear Paul's unamplified voice, "pair of murrelets at 9 O'clock."

After a mild panic lasting 15 seconds of me not seeing what everyone else evidently is seeing, I spot two tiny black-and-white birds bobbing on the water. Murrelets! The captain gently nudges the boat towards the birds. I'm expecting them to fly any minute, and reveal their diagnostic underwings (Scripp's and Guadalupe, the only other birds likely to be confused with Craveri's, have bright white underwings.) But we keep getting closer and closer, until eventually the birds are right alongside the boat. So close we can hear them vocalizing - a cicada-like rattling.

Craveri's Murrelets. At close range, the black upperparts have a brown ting. 

The black on the head comes down below the bill, and the eyes are framed by white arcs.

There's a quiet excitement among all the birders pushed up against the railing, taking in the incredible and close view. For many, including John Puschock, it's a life bird.

No two days are the same in pelagic birding. Even taking the same course as the previous day will produce different birds. Today we had Craveri's, which were new, but no Red-billed Tropicbird, Flesh-footed or Great Shearwaters that we had Sunday. That's why with pelagics you need to take more than one trip. And this was a great demonstration. An ever greater demonstration of this principle happened the very next day - when the ABA group saw not only Craveri's again, but also saw the rare Guadalupe Murrelet - the southern form of the previously-named Xantus's Murrelet, and a bird I've never seen. Now that would have been a great boat to be on. (And I bet they had fish tacos too!)

The Dolphin Motel - a great place to stay in San Diego. Unless you're a fish.

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BIG YEAR LIST: 724 + 2 provisional (Rufous-necked Wood-rail, Common Redstart)

NEW YEAR BIRDS (2): Least Storm-petrel, Craveri's Murrelet

650!!!

This was absolutely the wrong day for rain. This was a big, multi-transportational chase - my biggest this year - and it was raining. I was not feeling at all confident while eating my (surprisingly delicious!) Huevos Rancheros in Rockland. (Check out Home Kitchen Cafe!) Gerri and I had driven 4 hours from Cambridge to be here in time for the ferry. The ferry would take us to Vinalhaven, an island off the coast of Maine. From there, we'd be taking another, smaller boat a further hour or so to our final destination: Seal Island. And there, finally, we hoped to see the rare Red-billed Tropicbird. 

The weather wasn't on our side. But we did have one lucky charm up our sleeves - John Drury - the "Tropicbird Man." He'd been taking people out to Seal Island for the past 7 years - ever since this tropical bird - nick-named Tropi - had taken up annual summer residence here - thousands of miles north of where it should have been. The man had an almost tangible bond with the bird and we were hoping that John could work his magic today.

The ferry ride was smooth with lots of Black Guillemots in breeding plumage to keep us busy with our binoculars. An hour and a half later the ferry disgorged us into the tiny fishing town of Vinalhaven. Brightly-colored skiffs bobbed in the harbor, lobster pots crowded the quiet streets, and we felt the cool summer breeze on our sweating brows. The rain had stopped.

Vinalhaven, Maine

Amid the clapboard New England Cape houses, there's a refreshing French influence to the architecture - including where we were staying - the Payne Homestead. 

If this was Nantucket at this time of year, it would be crowded and obnoxious. But this is rural Maine at its best. No TV in the hotel (except the "TV room" which has no cable, but a VCR machine (!) with a bookcase of video *cassettes*) or internet. But plenty of friendly hospitality.

John Drury was waiting for us in his new boat, Skua. He's a tall, quiet man, who espouses shoes, small talk and knows these islands like the back of his hands. Stepping aboard, John coaxed the boat gently out of the harbor…

John Drury at the helm of Skua.

It felt almost appropriate that we were flying the Welsh flag - only one country away from my birthplace, and home to my best friend back home, Jon.

It's about an hour out to Seal Island. On our way we saw Common Eider mothers forming communal rafts, shielding the chicks hidden in the center. A new urgency to this protection has been the recent and dramatic increase in summering Bald Eagles. We saw up to 12 birds. Eider and Cormorant (including several pairs of breeding Great Cormorant) chicks provide regular and bite-size snacks for the Eagles.

After missing the Man of the Mountain in New Hampshire (the face in the rocks that fell down in 2003) we were happy to see an alternative in Maine…

Can you see the famous film director? 

Appropriately, he's among the birds (the one bird here is a Bald Eagle.)

As we reached Seal Island, we were greeted by the irresistibly-cute Atlantic Puffin. 

Atlantic Puffin. 

During spring, the bill increases in size and color which may play a part in mate selection.

As well as a pair of Long-tailed Duck in rare breeding plumage, and Common Loon…

Common Loon.

and the breeding colony of Arctic Terns:

Arctic Tern - notice the very short legs, and bright red bill.

i.e. - everything but the Tropicbird! The delightful Puffins had quelled my nerves for a while, but now they were back. Where was Tropi? There had been one sighting this year back in May. Could this be the final year of the Tropicbird? John circled the island hoping a different view would help. While we were searching we had a pair of breeding-plumaged Common Murres:

A pair of Common Murres.

Unusual this far south at this time of…."Tropicbird!" The scream comes from behind. Gerri's shouting and I almost fall out the boat in surprise! As I wheel around to see why the hell she's shouting a huge bright white bird with an impossibly long tail and blood red bill glides silently past…

I shout out too, and soon we're all shouting "Tropicbird!" Well, everyone except for the yogically calm John, who's nodding, and ready at the helm to follow the bird. After strafing a few terns the bird lands amid a group of Common Loons. We approach close enough to admire the bird:

For the next 15 mins we watch as Tropi takes off and flies among the terns. Despite its huge size, it's a surprisingly graceful flier. John explains that when the bird first arrived it wanted to roost among the terns. Must be pretty lonely being the only Tropicbird in town But the terns were having none of it, and kept chasing it away. In return, Tropi started strafing the terns and generally annoying the hell out of them. This game has gone on for 7 years, and we witnessed some of these playful interactions:

This has been one of the my most amazing birding experiences - such an enigmatic bird, and a really fun trip out to see it. I was happy to share it with Gerri - who's celebrating her birthday this week (Monday.)

Thank you Mr Tropicbird Man! Contact details for John Drury if you're interested in an awesome afternoon out in coastal Maine: 207-596-1841.

So - it's June 23rd and I've seen an amazing 650 birds! I started this year having no idea I'd be doing this. A January trip to Arizona was just a winter break from the (relatively) birdless Massachusetts. It wasn't really until March / April that the audacious thought first entered my mind: this is pretty good start - maybe I could do a Big Year? Back then, a Big Year would have been 550. As the months and birds have rolled by, I've been upping my targets - 600, 625, 650. And now I have a good chance to get into the 700s. John Vanderpoel, who saw an incredible 745 birds during his 2011 big year was at 654 by the end of June (his 650th bird - coming on June 26th.)

Anyway, back to reality. A good night's sleep on Vinalhaven (there's no return ferry after 4:30 so we're stuck on the island) and then back to Boston.

Happy Birthday Gerri! Hope you enjoyed the Tropicbird and Puffins!

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BIG YEAR LIST: 650

NEW YEAR BIRDS (2): Atlantic Puffin, Red-billed Tropicbird.