Every Bird is Best

I was recently invited to join Alaskan birder Dave Sonneborn, with whom I have a mutual friend in Anchorage, on a series of pelagic trips out of Hatteras, North Carolina to look for seabirds.  I enjoyed getting to talk with Dave about his experiences birding in Alaska, including as a guide on the legendary Aleutian Island of Attu – the western-most point of land in the United States and magnet for lost and storm-blown Asian rarities. 

White-tailed Tropicbird, 29 May 2014

It turned out that Dave was meeting up with Virginia birder Bob Ake, who in 2010 did a Big Year and ended up observing and checking off 731 species of bird in the ABA area.  It turns out almost all the birders who listed more than 700 species during their Big Year were getting together to celebrate the achievement and do some offshore birding.  It turns out that the end of May off of Hatteras is the best time and place to try to find some rare but regular seabirds, including a bird that for several hundred years was thought to be extinct – the Bermuda Petrel.  

Great Shearwater

Between fighting off sea sickness in the rough conditions and scanning through the birds that were incessantly following the boat drawn to the chum and fish oil slick, I missed out on many of the Big Year stories that were surely being recounted.  At one point, though, I found myself standing next to Al Levantin, who became famous for getting seasick on pelagic trips after his Big Year attempt was chronicled in the book, The Big Year.  I could sympathize with this, so when I noticed that his scopolamine patch was incorrectly applied to the skin behind his ear – sticky side out – I thought I should say something.  When we finally got the confusion resolved and the patch applied correctly Al said, “I wish you hadn’t told me because I am actually feeling pretty well for a change.”  You can never discount the placebo effect. 

Trinidade Petrel, 31 May 2014

I was on board for 3 trips and a possible fourth trip was cancelled because of rough weather conditions.  We never did see the elusive Bermuda Petrel; it had been seen on a previous trip about a week before and so it continues to be regular but rare.  We did get to see many very cool and remarkable birds.  I was going to say that the “best bird” was a Trinidade Petrel, a rare seabird that breeds off of South America.  However, whenever I or another birder talks about the “best bird” they observed, it reminds me of a story:

A Zen master, Banzan, was walking through a market and overheard a conversation between a butcher and a customer.

“Give me the best cut of meat you have,” said the customer.

“Everything in the shop is the best,” replied the butcher.  “You cannot find here any piece of meat that is not the best.”

So here is another of the best birds from the trips, also from the south of the equator and one of the most numerous birds seen on pelagic trips off of Hatteras - Wilson's Storm-Petrel.

Wilson's Storm-Petrel

Snowy New Year's Eve in Florida

On our way home from visiting family in Florida during the holidays, we passed by Hugeunot Memorial Park north of Jacksonville where a Snowy Owl had been reported the day before.  However, no one reported finding the bird that day and it was nearing dusk, so we pressed on north to Amelia Island, where we planned to look for sharks' teeth on the beach.  I had a haunting feeling, though, as we drove past all those white dunes and called a local birder to confirm that no sighting had been reported that day.  

The next morning I was up early, anxious to hit the beach.  My wife and daughter, on the other hand, had a different idea of wake up time, and told me basically to clear out and stop making noise.  I had already made a run to Starbuck's for coffee for my wife and some breakfast items and was still looking at an hour before light and two before I would have company on the beach.  

I decided to try a spot at the south end of Amelia Island that is good for sea duck, but when I arrived there I realized a was only 5-10 minutes from where the Snowy Owl was last seen.  Needless to say, I kept trucking south back to Hugeunot Park to scan the dunes with my spotting scope.  Although I could just picture the owl sitting on the dunes, I had no better success than those who had searched the day before.  As I had not been too hopeful in locating the bird and my family would be ready to go soon, I packed it in and started back north.  

Just after crossing the bridge from Huguenot Park to Little Talbot Island, where the owl had originally been discovered, I saw a sign that said 'No Parking', a wide area next to the road that looked like a perfect place to park, and a short trail down to the dunes.  I slammed on the brakes.  We could be onto something.  I walked a short distance to where the trail ended at the dunes and set up my scope.  I though I saw something white - a sign.  In fact, many white signs were marking the boundary of a summer breeding area for birds and warning 'Area Closed'.  I scanned four, five, six times.  I had to get going so one last scan.  As I panned from left to right with the scope something stopped me cold.  A large white bird partially hidden by a white sign and two eyes staring at me.

Because I had not been very confident in finding the owl, my camera was back in the car.  I ran back for it and took a few photos through the scope.  I then excitedly called my birding friend and one-time Jacksonville resident, Rex Rowan, with whom I often bird when I am in Gainesville, and let him know the bird had been relocated so he could alert others who would want to see it.  It was time to rejoin my family for a spot of fossil hunting.  There still was a small matter of a Harlequin Duck that had been reported at Fort Clinch State Park on the north side of Amelia Island.  That bird had also come a long way to Florida, but I supposed he would be nice and content working the jetty until I made it there.  It was a nice way to close out all the great birding in 2013.  Peace.