KIRTLAND'S WARBLER

It's June, it's Detroit Airport, so I must be making the Kirtland's Warbler pilgrimage. This is a one-bird stop from Alaska on my way home - finally. It's was a logistical pain to get here: Nome - Anchorage - Seattle - (red-eye to) - Dallas - Detroit. After a month of travel, I'm beat. While I've made many long drives this year (26,000 miles of them), the simple 3 hour trip north from Detroit to Grayling was one of the hardest - I had to pull over and take a nap. In both directions! 

But boy was it worth it! 

Kirtland's Warbler is an endangered species - it nests only in Northern Michigan (although a few pairs are now thought to nest in nearby states.) It's an ultra fussy bird: it only nests around Jack Pines, between 6' and 14', which have interlocking lower branches (to hide the nest), and dense ground cover. This early stage forestation was a lot more common before forest fires were prevented. The population crashed around the mid 20th century, and hit a low of around 400 individuals in the 1970s. Several groups, including US Fish and Wildlife, MI Audubon, and Michigan Dept. Natural Resources teamed up to reverse the trend. And they've been successful. There's now around 4,000 individuals in MI, and the birds are an important local tourist industry. That and Mixed Martial Arts…

The Grayling Ramada Inn. To be clear, I was here for the Warbler Tours!

The largest breeding population is centered around Grayling, MI. I arrived late afternoon in the sandy Jack Pine habitat.

It wasn't long before I heard the distinctive song of the Kirtland's - chip-chip-chip-too-too-weet-weet. For a brightly colored bird, they're surprisingly well hidden. It took me some time to spot one:

Kirtland's Warbler - notice the broken eye-ring, blue-gray head, 

black lores (area between the bill and the eye), bright yellow underparts, 
and streaking on the flanks. This is a male. Females are probably on the nest now 
and are a sightly paler version of the male.

The birds throw their heads back when singing…

Here's a video:

I went on the free Fish and Wildlife tour the next morning, which was very educational. This was given by Megan, whose job it is to "remove" Brown-headed Cowbirds from the warbler breeding grounds. As well as suffering habitat loss, the other major factor in the decline of the birds is predation by cowbirds. Previously restricted to the southern plains, this bird has moved north as the forests have been opened up. The Kirtland's were simply not prepared. The cowbirds lay eggs in the warbler nests and often remove one or more of the host eggs. The poor warblers can't tell the difference between their own chicks and the massive cowbird chicks. The latter often throw out warbler chicks from the nest or out-compete them for food, reducing the warbler breeding success still further.

Here's a cowbird trap:

The mesh wire structure contains about 20 cowbirds which act as bait:

Cowbirds fly into the trap through a hole in the ceiling, but are unable to fly out. New birds are removed daily and destroyed. Using multiple traps like this, about 4,000(!) cowbirds are killed every season. With this combination of significantly reduced cowbird parasitism, and better land management (a rotation of logging to always provide trees of the right age and size) the Kirtland's Warbler has come back from the brink of extinction. Thankfully, their fussiness only extends to breeding - once they get to their wintering grounds in the Bahamas they don't seem to care about the size of the trees or whether the lower branches are touching the ground - they're probably just thinking, hey, it's the Bahamas!

It was a real treat to see these birds, and the efforts that have gone into saving them. You can tell the locals are very proud - there are Kirtland's signs all over the place, business named after them, and all the school kids get to learn about their special bird. The state is even considering changing their state bird from (the ridiculous and widespread) American Robin to the Kirtland's Warbler. [If you haven't read Nicholas Lund's excellent and hilarious blog about state birds I'd recommend it - http://tinyurl.com/a8uzl8w]

Next time you're in the Michigan area over the summer, and have a free morning recovering from the Cage Fights the night before, I'd encourage you to pay a visit to this remarkable bird, and the even more remarkable work that has gone into protecting it.

Good job Michigan!

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BIG YEAR LIST: 642

NEW YEAR BIRDS (1): Kirtland's Warbler 

THERE'S NO PLACE LIKE NOME...

Nome is about 100 miles south of the Arctic Circle in western Alaska. It can only be reached by plane, or dog-sled (the annual Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race starting from Anchorage ends here.) I opted for the plane (it's 9 days faster.)

Nome City Hall - finish line for the Iditarod Trail Dog Sled Race 

held annually in early March.

It's hard to imagine that this was once the most populous city in Alaska: in 1900 there were over 10,000 hardy souls here. They were all trying to cash in on the gold discovered in Anvil Creek by "Three Lucky Swedes" in 1898. The gold rush may be over today (the population is down to about 3,000 now), but small numbers of prospectors are still drawn to these remote shores. Looks like business is a bit slower these days though...

At this time of year ("spring") you're more likely to run into birders prospecting for rarities than gold dredgers. That's why I'm here!

This was an exciting trip for me personally, as I was going to meet (and bird with) a big year competitor. I first heard of Hans de Grys in Arizona in Jan. He'd been there a week ahead of me and seen everything. The same happened again in Florida. And Texas. The guy was a birding machine, seeing every bird and staying one step ahead of me. (I have his eBird records to thank for helping me find all the birds he'd left behind!) We'd been communicating and sharing birding info for the past month - he sounded friendly and I was excited to finally meet my arch-nemesis / new birding pal. He's been keeping a blog too - it's http://reallybigyear.wordpress.com/ and is full of wit, wisdom and some cracking photos (warning - he rather likes sunsets.) Hans is doing a mid-year to mid-year big year (as an academic sabbatical), and this is almost his last trip.

I met Hans in Anchorage about an hour before our flight. My "birder checklist" for Hans was quickly ticked for the following: normal, funny, friendly, and, importantly, knows his birds. I saw a lot of great birds in Nome, but the real highlight for me was making a great birding friend. We birded together for 3 and half days and I enjoyed every minute. We saw a lot more birds too - having another pair of eyes and extra brain really helps.

As we landed, the pack ice reminded us just how close to the Arctic Circle we were:

Flight into Nome - pack ice around the harbor.

It would be in the thirties during most of our stay with a chilling wind and even snow. The coastline changes every day with pack ice breaking up and reforming…

Not the best spot for sea watching.

Accommodation and rental vehicles are tough to come by during spring migration. We were set with the first...

The Nugget Inn - Nome Sweet Nome (for 4 nights)

... but lacking the second for our first day. But luck was on our side - we met father and son birding hotshots Joe and Abe Borker who very kindly took us out in their vehicle. At this time of year, it never really gets dark this far north, and so our first afternoon in Nome was as long as a normal birding day anywhere else! 

We had a blast on the Council Road. Abe quickly found us all a life bird: an Emperor Goose hiding in the tundra at the back of the lagoon. As we were watching it, in flew some Bar-tailed Godwits:

Bar-tailed Godwits breed in Western Alaska. 

Note the size difference between the reddish males and the gray female. Most shorebirds show this sexual dimorphism, where females are larger.

Further up the road, we were reminded just how audacious those gold rush dreams were. At the height of the stampede, a rail line was planned all the way from Nome to Vancouver. But by 1903, with crushing debt, and the amounts of gold fading, the line had only gone 35 miles.  

The Last Train to Nowhere. 

Three locomotives abandoned on the tundra. (Photo by Hans)

Thankfully, the bridges on the roads are in much better condition. And one, on our first day, was the nesting site for a pair of Gyrfalcons...

One of the Gyrfalcon parents, standing over some fuzzy babies. 

The road is about 6 feet above them! (Photo by Hans.)

Nome is not connected to the main Alaskan road system. But it does have roads - three of them, to be exact. Each goes about 70 miles: two (Council and Teller) end at native villages and the other (Kougarok) just disappears into the tundra! We would typically tackle 1-2 a day (although we once had a "3 road day" which was very exciting!)

The Kougarok Road is famous as the most accessible breeding site for the Bristle-thighed Curlew - a bird that rather sensibly winters in Hawaii. On our last day, Hans, Abe and I drove the 72 miles to Coffee Dome (sadly, a mountain and not a local coffee shop!), hiked up through the tundra (likened to walking on soft, wet, bowling balls) to the ridge - where we saw and heard the bird. Hans and Abe were very excited…

Bristle-thighed Curlew - life bird celebration! 

Hans de Grys and Abe Borker.

Birders visit Nome for the sheer variety and number of breeding birds - all in stunning plumage. Many of these birds migrate thousands of miles just to be here - from South / Central America, Asia, New Zealand (Bar-tailed Godwit - non-stop), Antartica (Arctic Tern - which sees two summers a year, and more daylight than any other creature on the planet!) and even Africa (Northern Wheatear.) The tundra is a great place to have kids and bring up a family - lots of food (insects, voles, other birds), great lighting, no pesky humans and plenty of space.

Normally seen way out to sea is the Long-tailed Jaeger. This bird feeds on fish caught by other birds - it chases the hell out of them with incredible aerial acrobatics until they drop it. It was great seeing them on land…

Long-tailed Jaeger - a common tundra nester in Nome.

One of my favorite birds here was the Red-throated Loon, which nests in small tundra pools. I'd never seen this bird in breeding plumage before. What a sight!...

Many different species of shore bird breed here too, including Red-necked Phalarope:

Red-necked Phalarope. In any sizable tundra pool we would find these birds spinning around picking insects off the surface. Sexual dimorphism is reversed in this group of shorebirds - the females are more brightly colored than the males.

and American Golden Plover...

If you're in Nome, and driving any of the 3 roads, watch out for Willow and Rock Ptarmigan. The combination of (1) liking to stand on the road, (2) being very tame, and (3) being extraordinarily lazy (they walk slowly, and rarely can they be bothered to fly) makes them a road accident waiting to happen (or that day's dinner.) They may be stupid, but they're very cute… 

Rock Ptarmigan male.

Female Willow Ptarmigan - great photo by Hans (taken from inside a warm car!)

Both Ptarmigan have a bright white winter plumage that helps them blend into the snow. Right now, they're molting into their browner summer plumage.

Nome is home to some Trans-Beringian migrants. Many were just arriving from Russia to spend the summer here. We had great views of Arctic Warbler that involved hacking into some dense (and thankfully Grizzly Bear-free willow tundra). But the best bird had to be the Bluethroat. These birds sing from the air while "parachuting" down to the ground. 

Bluethroat. Obviously!

(Thanks Rich Cimino for the location tip.)

One of the rarer breeders here is another Eurasian bird - the White Wagtail. We were lucky to find two at the Sinuk River on the Teller Road: 

White Wagtail - this is the gray-backed subspecies ocularis. 

Note the pale back and black line through the eye

Among all the handsome breeding birds, one of my favorites had to be the Steller's Eider. These guys aren't easy to find - they hide among the sea ice:

Sea ice off Safety Sound

It's thought that during the winter, their body heat melts a small hole in the pack ice - which is enough for them to fish.

Steller's Eider - two pairs slowly drifting on a tiny sheet of ice. 

This being Alaska - there was lots of non-bird wildlife too. Like this moose, loose in the tundra...

And Muskoxen. We came across this baby Muskox, all on its own. Hopefully the mother was somewhere nearby...

And this less than wild animal...

"Velvet" - the reindeer. A local celebrity.

(and yes, her antlers were very velvety)

The last day we had miserable weather - for humans, but great for rare birds! Coming out of an afternoon nap (we'd got up at 5:30 that day for the Bristle-thighed Curlew) I looked out my hotel window and spotted a Yellow-billed Loon swimming in the harbor. It would be the final year bird of the trip for me. We narrowly missed Spectacled Eider that Abe and Joe found on the ocean, 10 minutes before we pulled up behind them! But it didn't matter. I'd seen such great birds here, in large numbers, in dazzling plumages, and in great company. It was wonderful birding with Hans, Abe and Joe - I learned a lot, and laughed a lot. I was sad to leave.

Hans de Grys and Neil Hayward - two Big Year Birders. 

Or two men with too much free time on their hands!

A big thanks also to Aaron Lang from Wilderness Birding for birding location tips around Nome.

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I've been on the road for about a month now - and probably look and smell like it too. I'm excited to finally head home to Boston (the real Nome Sweet Nome), but not before a night in Michigan - a one-bird stop for Kirtland's Warbler...

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BIG YEAR LIST: 641

NEW YEAR BIRDS (15): Long-tailed Jaeger, Red Phalarope, Emperor Goose, Willow Ptarmigan, Eastern Yellow Wagtail, Slaty-backed Gull, Arctic Loon, Rock Ptarmigan, Northern Wheatear, Steller's Eider, Bluethroat, White Wagtail, Sabine's Gull, Arctic Warbler, Yellow-billed Loon.

TICKED OFF IN MINNESOTA...

...or EVERYTHING YOU ALWAYS WANTED TO KNOW ABOUT SAX(-ZIM BOG) BUT WERE AFRAID TO ASK.

It's Tuesday, which means it's my last day in Minnesota. I love this place! It's been great for catching up with all those pesky birds that snuck past me during migration. A lot of those birds breed in the far north (Canada), but range far south enough to find them in Minnesota. The bird life here is incredibly rich - both in diversity and sheer numbers. 

In 3 days, I got some important ticks, including Connecticut, Mourning and Canada Warbler. Some of those ticks came from the Sax-Zim bog - a huge bog in north central MN (more on this later.) Even non-birders can get new ticks there - when I got back to the car, I found this one:

Deer tick

And then another. And another. I was covered in these little blood suckers! I angrily pulled them all off. But they're pretty sneaky. As I was driving away from the bog, I would feel an odd tickle and discover one of these bastards happily gnawing my leg off. I would pick them off (not easy while driving - thank you cruise control) and throw them out the window (accompanied by a choice expletive.) Ten minutes later, the same process would be repeated - same kind of tick, different appendage. I'm sure it was the same guy coming back for more. Kind of like in Alien where Ripley ejects the alien from the escape spaceship at the end, but it clings on, and gets back in again. (Whoa. Maybe Alien is really based on Minnesota Deer Ticks?) Anyway...back to planet earth...even back at the hotel, confident that I'm de-ticked, I would find them scurrying away (albeit slowly) from my pile of dirty clothes.

I spent a day at Murphy Hanrehan Park 30 minutes south of the Twin Cities which does a much better job of warning (and scaring!) you about ticks:

WANTED: Deadly Ticks

Thankfully the tick mugshot didn't match any of the bog ticks that I'd picked up. Phew! I was also prepared, with my Neos lower-leg protection…

This year's fashion in footwear - Neos from Alaska.

Murphy Hanrehan's rolling hills are covered in prairie grassland. 

I'm here because of the Henslow's Sparrow - an uncommon and declining sparrow that makes its home in mid-west praries. On the skulking spectrum, it's at the extreme end.

But the grassland looked too low to support any birds. I walked around for about 15 minutes and saw nothing. Then - I started hearing "fe-LICK…..fe-LICK" - Henslow's singing! But where? I'd walk up to a singing bird, convinced I was 10 feet from it, and couldn't see a thing. Then it would call from a different direction (oh yeah, they also run around in the grass like mice.) Occasionally, I'd flush a bird (they only seem to fly if you almost stand on them) and it would fly to the other side of the hill. After 90 minutes of this ridiculousness I hadn't seen a single bird on the ground! Very frustrating. As I was leaving, I finally had one bird perch for 5 seconds - long enough for me to get a quick pic (during which, of course, the bird refused to look at me!)

Henslow's Sparrow. Notice the pea-green head, 
reddish back with black streaks, white belly with streaking on the breast and sides.

Awesome tick!

Talking of which…what was that funny tickling on my arm? I nervously pulled up my sleeve to reveal a tick. And this one matched the poster mug shot! Argghhh! I pulled the bastard off and flung him (it felt like a him) across the meadow (ok, maybe about 2 feet - hey, it's not easy throwing ticks long distances.) Unfortunately due to the rapid nature of this harrowing experience, I was unable to get any photo documentation for this blog. So - in the interests of tick education - I recreated and photographed the crime scene, sans tick. 

Sunday. June 2nd. 09:53. 67 degrees, light wind. No other witnesses.

Hmmm. I feel a funny tickling feeling on my arm. What is that?

Arrgghhh! It's a tick…

Holy shit! It's one of those killer ticks like in the poster that's going to kill me…

(Apparently ticks also cause all your hair to turn gray and prevent you from shaving for several days….)

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Let's get back to the Sax-Zim bog, of which more was promised...

Sax-Zim bog is a mythical place to birders. It's a mixed spruce, tamarack and northern white cedar bog, with patches of alder swamp and hardwood (ash) forest. In the summer, it's home to a huge variety of breeding birds (many difficult to get elsewhere this far south.)  In the winter, it's home to a popular birding festival, luring birders with the large numbers of wintering owls. 

Sax-Zim Bog

Most muggles though have never heard of it. I was buying insect repellant in Duluth and the woman at the check-out asked where I was going that I would need that. "The Sax-Zim bog." She looked at me,  and thought "I have no idea what you're saying, so I'll just nod and smile."

I guess there are no other landmarks which is why it's called the Saz-Zim bog - even though Zim only has a population of about 20, and Sax seems to be a ghost town. In some old maps, Sax had the alternative spelling of "Saxe" and in other maps it had the very alternative spelling of "Wallace."

The bog is a real test on bird song - stop anywhere and there's often 5+ different species all singing at once, most hidden deep within the bog. It wasn't long before I heard my main target bird: the Connecticut Warbler. This is, without doubt, one of my favorite birds (my email address is named after their genus, Oporornis.) They are incredibly secretive (think Henslow's Sparrow in a dense forested bog!) - when they're not singing they're almost impossible to find (and because of this it has one of the most poorly understood wintering ranges of any US bird.) I heard one singing about 100 feet into here…

I hacked into the boggy and wet undergrowth

Connecticuts have a very loud and explosive call, "chippy-chipper-chippy-chipper" which continued as I got closer and closer. Predictably, even within 20 feet, I had no idea where the bird was. Unlike almost all other warblers they walk (not hop) on the ground, and spend a lot of time hidden there. I waited it out - for 30 minutes standing dead still (except for a gradual and barely perceptible downward motion into the bog.) Eventually the bird flew a short distance, and starting singing from a branch right in front of me! I could see the slate-gray hood, stonking white eye-ring, lemon yellow belly, and olive-green back. Their under-tail coverts are so long it makes their tail look short and gives the bird a very plump look. We only see these birds rarely and often very poorly on the east coast in fall (they take a more westerly migration route in spring), so it was a real treat seeing this bird so well, and in its home.

I also caught up with one of the other Oporornis warblers at Sax-Zim too: the Mourning Warbler. Also highly secretive, this bird was singing from an exposed perch for several minutes…

Mourning Warbler. 

Notice the hood, like the Connecticut, with a black breast patch and no eye-ring.

(OK - before I get letters of complaint [yeah right, people are actually reading this!] - Mourning Warbler isn't technically an Oporornis warbler any more. It - as well as Macgillivray's and Kentucky - used to be but all three were moved to the Yellowthroat family Geothlypis, leaving Connecticut as the only US Oporornis warbler. Oh - and my last day, I drove down to SE Wisconsin to pick up my third ex-Oporornis for the trip - Kentucky.)

The other highlight of the trip was Rice NWR. In the 2 hours of sunlight I had there (after landing at MSP late in the afternoon) I heard at least 8 Ruffed Grouse drumming. Maybe felt is a better description - it's more of a pressure difference in the air than a noise. The amazing drumming sound is produced by male birds rapidly beating their open wings. I also got my life Golden-winged Warbler. I kept hearing them sing (bee bzz bzz bzz) in the dense, tangly wooded edges, but could never spot one. As I was driving out of the refuge I heard another, slammed on the brakes and jumped out. Damn it! This time I was going to see one! For 10 minutes a group of 3-4 gave me the run around with no sightings - until a male perched showing off his stunning golden crown, golden wing panel, and chickadee face pattern. It was only 3 seconds but it was unforgettable. It was definitely a highlight of a trip with many highlights.

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I'm heading back to Alaska now for 3 days in Nome - a tiny and isolated town on the West coast. Hoping for rarities, some of the local breeders, but no volcanoes or fog!

But before I leave, I'd like to thank Minnesota for being such an awesome birding place. And also:

1. for my GPS (Apple) for saying "Mini-A-Polis." Does that make Saint Paul, the other Twin City, Mini-B-Polis?

2. for being a place where this is normal…

Standard furniture in Minnesota bathrooms

3. to the hotel in Minneapolis where the woman on front desk asked me during check-in - with a straight face, mind you - "you'll be wanting to visit the Mall of America - we have a free bus service to take you there." 

4. and for showing us the future of transportation…

High-tech prototype: solar-powered vehicle.

5. and for Mr Porcupine for walking at 2 mph in the middle of the single lane road at Rice NWR…

6. to the laundromat that answered all my (very) basic questions on how to wash clothes and let me type up this post during the wait.

7. and to the very friendly Minnesotans with their endearing accents.

OK. AK - here I come…

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BIG YEAR LIST: 626

NEW YEAR BIRDS (11): Yellow-bellied Sapsucker, Ruffed Grouse, Canada Warbler, Golden-winged Warbler, Connecticut Warbler, Mourning Warbler, Least Flycatcher, Henslow's Sparrow, Cerulean Warbler, Olive-sided Flycatcher, Kentucky Warbler.