THE CITY OF BROTHERLY SHOVE...

I stared in disbelief as my car was towed away. Undriveable, and from one side, unrecognizable. I would be abandoning it here (Philadelphia) for a month. It wasn't coming home with me. This was my first car here in the US, and it was also my first car accident.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. First, I need to backtrack from Philly, further south. To North Carolina and back to the birds. After the success with the Swainson's Warbler in the Great Dismal Swamp we stuck around for the weekend. We crossed the border into North Carolina toward Howell Woods. I'd asked for help a couple months back - a plea for Kentucky and Swainson's Warbler locations. Howell Woods was a popular suggestion for both. I'd be happy to see more Swainson's and I'd only heard, but not seen, Kentucky this year (in Wisconsin.)

Howell Woods is in east central North (!) Carolina, on a street called "Devil's Racetrack." (And no, we didn't encounter any speeding demons.) It's a large swampy woodland:

criss-crossed with boardwalks...

or not...

Fail.

As everywhere else down here, we heard Yellow-billed Cuckoos immediately and frequently. And like all the other Yellow-billed Cuckoos this week-end, they stayed out of sight, sensibly hiding in the shadows, away from the fierce sun. 

We were heading toward the Outer Slough Trail. I'd come to appreciate the different pronunciations of slough in the Pribilofs - realizing that Americans say "slew" whereas with my English upbringing I'd have said "sloff." Simple, until I remembered the Brits also had another pronunciation - "slau" for a  (vile!) place called Slough. Maybe a better pronunciation would be "Swainson-Kentucky Trail" - for within 5 minutes on the trail we had views of both. Brief, and too quick for photos, but close enough to admire the sideburns of the Kentucky.

We punctuated our trip home with a tour of Monticello, Jefferson's Virginia home. Although the highlight has to be the well-known architecture of the house and the beautiful setting, we were really impressed with the vegetable gardens…

Jefferson's Vegetable Gardens at Monticello. 

$24 for humans. Free for Chipping Sparrows.

And then the evening in DC. Very timely as we were almost done with the audiobook for Dan Brown's book, "The Lost Symbol." I'm not a fan of Dan Brown - too much plot, too little character development, not enough birds - but it's ideal for driving: the constantly moving (and ridiculous) plot keeps you from falling asleep. They should put that on the audiobook cover - "Listening to Dan Brown while driving is preferable to falling asleep while driving!"

We didn't find the Pyramid or the Staircase to the Ancient Mysteries. 

We did find some tourists and drunk Washingtonians though.

On our last morning we stopped at Susquehanna State Park in Maryland for Cerulean Warbler - a bird I'd heard in Wisconsin earlier in the month but not seen. We arrived at the Picnic Area and immediately heard one calling. We spent about an hour there enjoying great views of the constantly-moving bird. We could see the delicate black necklace, and the sky-blue upper parts after which the bird is named. It was ferrying caterpillars - from a caterpillar-producing tree to a caterpillar-eating Cerulean nest. It's a beautiful spot - a high tree canopy bordering the fast-moving Susquehanna River. Birds seem to like it too - we had Indigo Bunting, more Yellow-billed Cuckoos, Great-crested and Acadian Flycatchers. After finally getting looks at the Cerulean I've now seen all the regular breeding warblers of the US this year (about 52 species.)

It was after breakfast in Philly that the trip came to a crashing end. Seconds after stopping at a red light near the Liberty Bell, we heard the crunching and felt the impact of a large truck hit the back of my car. 

We were ok, but shaken up. After dealing with the police, insurance company, other driver, we said goodbye to the car - due for a month's worth of repairs and rebuilding in Philly, and got a rental car for the long drive back home to Boston. We were lucky not to be injured. We'd seen - actually seen - Swainson's Warbler, as well as lots of other avian goodies - Prothonatory, Kentucky, Cerulean Warblers, visited Monticello and DC. My car wasn't coming with us, but Dan Brown was. Hopefully the Angels and Demons would keep us awake...

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BIG YEAR LIST: 645

NEW YEAR BIRDS (0)

OOH, OOH, I STEPPED IN POO...

The Great Dismal Swamp is clearly in need of some PR. How about some renaming - how about the Awesomely Cool Water Feature? or the Suffolk Lakeside Retreat? Either way, you can blame (or thank - since I saw no other humans on two visits this weekend) William Byrd II. He was responsible for mapping the swamp in 1728 while establishing the border between Virginia and North Carolina that runs through it, and for subsequently naming it. Clearly, the man wasn't a fan.

The swamp is around 50,000 acres with a large circular lake (Lake Drummond) at its center. It's one of the biggest and wildest areas of the Eastern US. And it used to be much bigger and much wilder (and probably to Byrd, much more dismal) - around 1 million acres - before intensive logging and drainage almost destroyed it. Signs posted around the swamp remind visitors of its checkered past. Many of the ditches - dry, logging roads that run through the swamp - were built with slave labor. Later, its seclusion attracted runaway slaves that lived here in maroon societies, achieving some kind of freedom.

I'm guessing that William Byrd wasn't a birder. Otherwise, he'd have swooned over the Swainson's Warbler - the largest concentration of which today is probably found in this very swamp. A highly secretive warbler that likes dense inaccessible swamps and thick ground cover - i.e. places that are hard to get to, and hard to see into! The birds are often to be found on the ground - wiggling their way through leaf litter looking for tasty morsels. This skulker is the last of the breeding warblers for my Big Year. Having missed it during migration, I found myself walking out into the Virginia swamp late on a summer afternoon - hoping to at least hear their distinctive song, and maybe, just maybe, to catch a glimpse. 

The Great Dismal Swamp is a beautiful place…

The only thing really dismal about the swamp these days is the 600 mile drive from Boston (yeah - it seemed like a good idea at the time!) Gerri was along for the ride ("the dismal swamp is a vacation destination?"). Soon after arriving we started hearing Prothonatory Warblers - and were dazzled by their brilliant yellow plumage and steel blue wings:

About half a mile down Jericho Ditch, we suddenly heard it. "ooh, ooh, I stepped in poo" - the easily memorable song of the Swainson's Warbler (alternatively, and more politely, transliterated as, "whee, whee whip-poor-will".) And then we heard a second bird! For the next hour, we peered into the dense swampy understory hoping to catch a glimpse. But no luck. It was tantalizing - they were so close, they were continually singing, but they were so well hidden. 

As it was getting dark, a deer emerged from the swamp onto the ditch, probably wondering what the hell we were doing. Didn't we know that Virginia Beach was only an hour away??

I was very happy to add Swainson's to my heard list, but really wanted to see one. We'd been so close! So we planned on a return visit the next morning. We stayed in nearby Suffolk, where I was happy to see that Virginians are still pondering important philosophical questions…

The next morning the swamp was alive with birdsong - Prairie Warbler, Northern Parula, Yellow-billed Cuckoo, Great Crested Flycatcher. And the two Swainson's Warblers. We waited patiently again, almost burning holes into the swampy undergrowth with our focussed attention. But no luck. They'd beaten us again! We gave up, and drove somewhat dejectedly out of the swamp along Jericho Lane. 

I was pulling up the map for Chapel Hill, our destination for the night, when I heard out the window that someone had just stepped in poo. We slammed on the brakes, reversed back, and jumped out. "Ooh, ooh, I stepped in poo." Swainson's! - and the swamp on this lane was much more open. Interesting! We waited. And finally - we saw it. A Swainson's Warbler flew back and forth between eye-level branches, seemingly excited by its new visitors. It even hung around long enough for a quick digiscoped pic…

What a great bird! And such a strong personality. Despite the ostensibly nondescript coloring - brown upperparts, gray-white belly, rich brown cap - it's a stunning bird, all the more so after the long and frustrating chase. Nothing dismal about this bird! And never has stepping in poo sounded more fun…

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BIG YEAR LIST: 645

NEW YEAR BIRDS (1): Swainson's Warbler

BICKNELL'S AND NELSON'S WITH KETCHUP AND MUSTARD

I'm back home now, and realizing that home is a pretty good place for a Big Year base. There always seem to be good birds to go for within a reasonable drive from Boston (note: my interpretation of "reasonable" has become rather *un*reasonable as of late.) And now is no exception. Gerri and I headed up north today on a search for Bicknell's Thrush and Nelson's Sparrow.

There are essentially two great spots for Bicknell's Thrush. One of them is called the Cap's Ridge Trail which has the highest trail head in the New Hampshire White Mountains. It's a steep 2.5 mile walk up Mount Jefferson, threading its way across stunning ridges and spectacular scenery. It's one of the most amazing hikes in New England. The other is a $15, 7 minute cable car ride up Mount Cannon, also in New Hampshire, popular with muggles, and noisy school kids. The Mount Cannon option is essentially for the pathetic, loser, lazy-ass birder.

We arrived at Mount Cannon in time for the first cable car. There are two - one at each end. They're yellow and red, and the tour giudes (yes, there's a guide in the cable car to help "explain" the mountain you're going up) call them Mustard and Ketchup...

Mustard and Ketchup - New Hampshire humor.

Bicknell's Thrush is found in stunted (Krummholz) conifer forests above 3,000 feet. Which looks like this:

Where the Bicknell's live: Krummholz pine above 3,000 ft in northern New Hampshire.

It's probably our most secretive thrush, and is more often heard than seen. And it's not common - the small population in the Northeast was split from the more abundant, northwestern Gray-cheeked Thrush. The main difference between the two is habitat preference and song. Oh - and their sex lives! Bicknell's practice polygynandry in which the female mates with more than one male - and then she keeps all those males around to help around the nest. Sweet!

It wasn't long after climbing out of Ketchup that we started hearing the characteristic nasal call - "vee-ah" of the Bicknell's. Then a few started singing - a beautiful, raspy phrase that slurs upwards at the end. We found a pair of that were duetting together - alternatively singing. And finally one came out of the krummholz to investigate us. We got quick, but great looks - enough to see the gray face, delicately spotted belly and reddish brown upperparts. Very cute bird!

We also had a small family of Blackpoll Warblers up on the summit, including this male singing atop one of the confiers…

Blackpoll Warbler on Mount Cannon

Then we started hearing large numbers of juvenile Homo sapiens. In environments like this, they can be particularly loud and annoying. Definitely not as skulking as the Bicknell's. We took the next tram down.

Our next stop was a quick one - to see the recently-reported Black-backed Woodpecker nest, only 6 miles from Mount Cannon. We arrived to find one adult flying away from the nest tree and the sound of baby woodpeckers begging for food. Ten minutes later and the adult (a male - with a golden-crown) was back with a caterpillar. We watched as a hungry chick stuck its bill out of the hole and accepted the morsel of food. Here's the adult at the site…

Black-backed Woodpecker (male) at the nest hole. 

(Actually my second this year, after finding one in Ottawa in the snow.)

We stopped for lunch in the busy and touristy town of North Conway. There had been recent reports of bears in the area. Despite searching hard with my super bear-spotting binoculars (which very handily - for packing purposes - are also my super bird-spotting binoculars too) I couldn't find any bears…

"I heard there were bears here. But I don't see any."

Our final stop was Scarborough Marsh in Maine. This place is famous (among birders that is) as a nesting site for Nelson's Sparrow. I love sparrows. I love the identification challenges for such a large group of birds that are so subtly different. And Nelson's is even more fun for sparrow nerds as there are distinct subspecies. The majority of the birds (nelsoni) live in wet marshes and fields of the Mid-west. We have a small maritime population - subvirgatus - in salt-marshes of coastal Maine and Canada. These birds are paler than their mid-west counterparts and with longer bills. 

Nelson's has a distinctive, insect-like call - "p-tssssshh-uk". We started hearing it about 3/4 mile into the marsh. Then we started seeing birds peeking out of the short Spartina marsh grass. Here's the bird:

Nelson's Sparrow. Notice the orange face with clean supercilium (eyebrow). 

(The similar Saltmarsh Sparrow has streaks in its supercilium.)

The Atlantic subspecies of Nelson's is subvirgatus. 

The birds are pale with indistinct streaking on the breast and sides.

And with that, I'm one bird away from completing the sparrow set (all 33 of them.) And if it were not for the rain, we'd have stopped at Plum Island on the way back for the last one: Saltmarsh Sparrow. But we'll have to save that for another day...

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BIG YEAR LIST: 644

NEW YEAR BIRDS (2): Bicknell's Thrush, Nelson's Sparrow.

HOME!

Wow. It's been a long time (4 weeks and 18 flights!) since I've held a boarding pass that has the letter BOS as the destination. It's about time...

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.