Surreal South Florida Bird Trip Day 2

After crossing the state the night before on Alligator Alley, I got an early start at Markham Park in Fort Lauderdale hoping to beat the weekend crowds.  The website said it opened at 8:00 but when I arrived at 7:30 hoping to sneak in there were crowds of people everywhere.  I asked the gate attendant (they apparently were already open) what was going on.  She said it was a boy scout jamboree.  I paid and headed towards the nature trail, where several Spot-breasted Oriole had been reported regular over the last couple week.  Spot-breasted Oriole is a non-native species that was introduced to South Florida from Central America by escaping from a zoological park. 

The nature trail was at least in the opposite direction from the boy scout jamboree, but it was still bustling with activity from the nearby RV campground and dog park.  As I got out of the car a group of mountain bikers went by and headed down the nature trail in front of me.  This was going to improve my chances of finding this species that I had failed to see on numerous other occasions.  However, after the mountain bikers cleared out I had the nature trail to myself.  After slowly walking the trail for 10 or 20 minutes a Spot-breasted Oriole popped up on top of some shrubs not too far away.  The light was no good for a photograph, though.  I exited the trail and walked back along the road trying to get a look at the area with the sun at my back, but I never saw the bird or its companions again.

I did make it back to the hotel before the free breakfast bar closed and with time to try for a couple birds in Miami before meeting my friend Miguel in West Palm Beach for lunch.  A Buff-bellied Hummingbird, a rare winter visitor to South Florida from Texas and Mexico, was being reported at a park southwest of Miami.  On the way down, though, we had a stop to make at La Carreta Mexican restaurant in Miami.  When we pulled in the busy parking lot my parents wanted to know what exactly we were looking for here, again?  Bronzed Cowbird.  A formerly rare visitor from Mexico and points west, it has been establishing a permanent presence in South Florida since about 1980.  When I had found a parking space at the crowded restaurant and strip mall, I looked in my side-view mirror and saw a cowbird scavenging around and underneath a car behind us.  Bronzed Cowbirds, Boat-tailed Grackles, and European Starlings were foraging everywhere, but the dumpster behind the restaurant seemed especially popular with the birds.  Within about a minute of getting out of the car my mother asked if we could go get a cup of coffee from Dunkin Donuts now.  Why not. 

The last stop of the morning was Castellow Hammock Park for the hummingbird.  Hopefully, it would not be a long search as it was approaching lunchtime and we still had a bit of a drive to West Palm Beach.  Well, it really could not have been any easier.  We got out of the car in the parking lot and saw a woman sitting on a bench with binoculars in her hand.  I walked over and asked her if she had seen any hummingbirds and she indicated that the Buff-bellied had been feeding in the flowering shrub just in front of us.  Instantly it appeared and perched on a branch and preened for about three minutes.  I got out the spotting scope and we all had nice looks at the bird.  A couple other birders showed up and had the same experience.  My father was not very impressed by the juvenile bird, and it has to be said that my interest was more in the rarity of its visit to South Florida than its subdued green and buff plumage.  It was a spunky little bird, though, and personality surely counts for something.  My father was already in the car ready to go as I was packing up the scope and tripod.  We were running slightly late for lunch and had friends to meet.  In less than 24 hours we had tracked down four birds I had never seen in Florida before: American Flamingo, Spot-breasted Oriole, Bronzed Cowbird, and Buff-bellied Hummingbird.  The oriole I had never seen anywhere before, which made it a life bird.  So who cares?  Good question.  But now it was time for lunch. 

We ended the day at the Jupiter inlet, my childhood stomping grounds, with great weather and a view of the historic lighthouse as the sun was going down.  Instead of risking another disappoint grouper sandwich at a waterside restaurant and lounge, we ate dinner at the old Catfish House in Hobe Sound.  Now we were all happy. 

Surreal South Florida Birding Trip Day 1: Birding by Channel Marker Numbers

I dragged my parents on a bird chase around South Florida when I went down recently on a weekend visit.  They were pretty good sports about the whole thing, although the pace was not to their liking.  We covered long distances with too few rest stops, bypassed a couple relatives, and could not find a decent grouper sandwich.  But we did mange to find all four target birds in a 24 hour period between Orlando and South Miami by way of Fort Myers.  

Leaving the Sanford/Orlando airport around 10AM, the first stop was the Sanibel Causeway near  Fort Myers, where an American Flamingo was being reported for some weeks before my trip.  The reports advised to arrive on the incoming tide and look around the channel markers on the south side of the causeway.  The tide charts put high tide at 2:55 and my GPS device indicated it would take about three and a half hours to drive to the spot.  Unfortunately, traffic factored heavily into the equation and by the time we arrived in Fort Myers, still some 20 minutes from the causeway, it was nearing high tide and all of the sandbars would be inundated and the flamingo likely moved off to find suitable foraging habitat elsewhere.  My parents couldn't understand the cause of the urgency, and kept pointing out nice places we might stop.  When we did final arrive to the causeway the tide appeared to be dead high and no sandbar was evident anywhere.  I scanned the water with my binoculars in the area it had been reported in all those posts I read while daydreaming about the trip.  

No sign of any large pinkish-orange iconic Florida bird.  In desperation, I started asking fishermen if they had seen the bird.  I got a couple stories about Great Blue Herons and Brown Pelicans stealing fish, but nothing helpful.  One fisherman did say he had heard about the bird on the news, which somehow encouraged me.  I went for my spotting scope hoping the extra magnification would be the ticket, and started scanning.  My father had stopped pretending to look and was off talking to the fishermen about where to get a good grouper sandwich.  By now boats were racing through the channel throwing up large wakes and the water level seemed too high for any chance the bird would out there.  Without much remaining hope I scanned in the area of channel marker number 10, which was mentioned in a now remote listserv post.  Amazingly, I caught a distant glimpse of the head of a flamingo appearing and disappearing in the large wave caused by all the motor boat activity.  We all had nice looks at the bird and marveled that it hardly seemed to be bothered by all the boat traffic.  A bird that had supposedly strayed from its home range in the Bahamas was apparently content to swim for it in these hazardous waters.  Or perhaps not - within a couple of minutes it appears to have flown off presumably for more peaceful environs. 

My father, for the next several days, would remark to anyone we met how unbelievable it was that you could read a report on the internet giving a location and specific instruction about tides and be able to actually find the bird.  Of course, my father thinks many things about the internet are fair miraculous, which I suppose they are.

So what next?  A Broad-billed Hummingbird was being newly reported a couple hours south in Naples.  This was not exactly on the way to Fort Lauderdale, but we could get there with some daylight remaining.  This was not a popular suggestion and my parents looked birded out.  Alternatively, the Lazy Flamingo offered hopes of a decent grouper sandwich, seemed interestingly named, and was a convenient place to meet up with some relatives who lived in the area.  I noticed my father did not finish his grouper, which probably represents a rating of not more that two stars.  It seems we still had unfinished business in South Florida. 

Snowy New Year's Eve

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 the next day.  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 skidded to a halt.  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.  I moved the scope to another vantage point and as I panned from left to right 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.   

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.
 

Red-necked Phalarope Community Sighting

About the most fun I have had birding this year was a sighting of Red-necked Phalarope at Austin Springs, a local birding spot on the Watauga River in Johnson City, Tennessee.  It was a Monday afternoon, and I was at work when I received a call from a friend alerting me the bird had just been found.  Earlier that day three Snowy Egrets, which are rare in northeast Tennessee, had been reported at Austin Springs.  Tom McNeil and Cathy Myers went to see the Snowy Egrets, and Cathy noticed a small bird swimming erratically upriver from the bridge.  It turned out to be a Red-necked Phalarope, also rare in northeast Tennessee.  Word went out. 

By the time I got off work and out to Austin Springs bridge, all of the local birders had already left and apparently so had the phalarope.  As I was viewing the Snowy Egrets through my spotting scope, I saw my wife and daughter in the distance around the bend in the river.  They have a milk weed plot along the river that they monitor for Monarch butterflies.  As I was pleased to see them, I called them on their cellular phone.  My daughter answered and immediately asked, “Dad, where are you?  The whole bird club is over here looking at some bird.”  Needless to say, I rushed right over to find the local birding community enjoying the rare sight.  We celebrated with high-fives all around to the embarrassment of my daughter.  I am heartened that, although sometimes competitive, birding is not a zero-sum game. 

 

Another Red-necked Phalarope, AK, June 2013

The Tao of Birding

Remembering some embarrassingly public bird misidentifications brought to mind a Taoist tale reproduced in a JD Salinger story.  It is about a person who is so excellent a judge of the inward quality of horses that he loses sight of more obvious details such as color or sex.  With a little imagination it is easily adaptable to birding, although unfortunately I cannot blame my inability to distinguish species and plumage on attentiveness to the spiritual qualities:  

Duke Mu of Chin said to Po Lo: "You are now advanced in years. Is there any member of your family whom I could employ [as a bird guide] in your stead?" Po Lo replied: "A good [bird] can be picked out by its general build and appearance. But the superlative [bird] is something evanescent and fleeting, elusive as thin air. The talents of my sons lie on a lower plane altogether; they can tell a good [bird] when they see one, but they cannot tell a superlative [bird]. I have a friend, however, one Chiu-fang Kao, a [hawk watcher], who in things appertaining to [birds] is nowise my inferior. Pray see him." 

Duke Mu did so, and subsequently dispatched him on the quest for a [bird]. Three months later, he returned with the news that he had found one. "It is now in Shach'iu" he added. "What kind of [bird] is it?" asked the Duke. "Oh, it is a [basic-plumaged Dunlin]," was the reply. However, someone being sent to [confirm] it, the animal turned out to be a [breeding-plumaged Curlew Sandpiper]! Much displeased, the Duke sent for Po Lo. "That friend of yours," he said, "whom I commissioned to look for a [bird], has made a fine mess of it. Why, he cannot even distinguish [species or plumage]! What on earth can he know about [birds]?" Po Lo heaved a sigh of satisfaction. "Has he really got as far as that?" he cried. "Ah, then he is worth ten thousand of me put together. There is no comparison between us. What Kao keeps in view is the spiritual mechanism. In making sure of the essential, he forgets the homely details; intent on the inward qualities, he loses sight of the external. He sees what he wants to see, and not what he does not want to see. He looks at the things he ought to look at, and neglects those that need not be looked at. So clever a judge of [birds] is Kao, that he has it in him to judge something better than [birds]." 

When the [sighting was confirmed], it turned out indeed to be a superlative animal. 

-Adapted from “Raise High the Roof Beam, Carpenters” by JD Salinger