The New Adventures of Birdman

Hawk, of some sort

2009-05-01T17:25:00.002-05:00

The following conversation took place this morning during a nature hike I was leading for a 1st grade class:

Cute little 1st grade girl: "Mr. Dunlap?"

Me: "Yep?"

Cute little 1st grade girl: "This one time, um, last year...there was, a hawk, that um...built a nest in our backyard."

Me: "Cool!"

Cute little 1st grade girl: "Yeah!"

And another birder is born.

Loggerhead Shrike

2009-04-25T18:30:00.004-05:00

Despite the absence of more frequent posts, I have been out birding quite a bit lately. The tricky part is finding the time to sit down and write something interesting at the end of the day. And when my mind is preoccupied with work, as it has been these past few weeks, it's difficult to find the motivation to blog.

But I think I'm regaining some of that motivation. Nicollet County has been pretty birdy these past few days, and I've taken advantage of the nice weather and south winds to see what's out there. This afternoon, the highlight was probably this Loggerhead Shrike perched on a wire a few miles west of St. Peter.

For some reason, Loggerhead Shrikes are pretty rare and localized in Minnesota. They do breed in a few locations, and during migration in April and May they're possible anywhere in the state; nevertheless, few are seen.

Shrikes are actually predatory songbirds. This means that while they hunt other animals, as hawks and falcons do, they are more closely related to a Blue Jay than an American Kestrel despite the physical similarities. These birds have been known to impale their prey on barbed wire fences, either for caching purposes or territoriality (and perhaps intimidation?), and are known to many as "butcher birds." "Loggerhead" refers to the bird's relatively large head in comparison to its body, which, along with its hooked bill and black face mask, adds to its fierce look. Mice beware.

Sandhill Crane

2009-04-18T20:02:00.003-05:00

This past week I observed one of my favorite birds, the Sandhill Crane, on three separate occasions near St. Peter. The first two sightings were both a few miles west of St. Peter out toward Swan Lake, and the third occurred at Kasota Prairie across the Minnesota River.

Prior to this year, I had never seen cranes in the south-central part of the state. There are actually two different routes that the Sandhills take through Minnesota: 1) they follow the Mississippi River north along the eastern edge of the state, and 2) they skirt the western side of the state toward their nesting grounds in the northwest corner of MN. Because of these opposite routes, finding a crane in the center of southern MN, which is where I'm located, doesn't happen often.

However, I may have found a small migration window in which some cranes actually do wander through this area, as evidenced by this past week's sightings (I saw two migrating cranes at this time last year near the town of Gaylord, which is about 30 miles north of St. Peter). Which is awesome, because I absolutely love cranes. They look cool, and they sound even more impressive. There's something prehistoric about these birds that I can't quite comprehend; if you've ever heard a Sandhill Crane before, you know what I mean. The sound is fairly loud and carries perhaps several miles away. Any bird that loud deserves special attention in my book.

The cranes do of course breed in many locations in the northern half of MN. They also stage one of the most amazing migrations of North American birds each spring through the Great Plains (which I have yet to experience personally). But it's always a good feeling when you discover something like this in your own backyard.

American Woodcock

2009-04-11T11:32:00.002-05:00

On Thursday night I led a group of Gustavus students and professors to Minneopa State Park south of Mankato to observe the aerial courtship display of the male American Woodcock.

Woodcocks are one of my favorite birds simply due to this elaborate ritual. Every spring beginning around the last week of March, the woodcocks arrive back on their breeding grounds and begin the quest for attracting a mate. Every night from then until early June, the birds begin their dance a few minutes after sundown.

I was pleased to see ten students and six older folks waiting for me to arrive at the Interpretive Center at 7:15 Thursday evening. From there we carpooled south to the park, arriving to the show at 7:45. As I explained that the dance would begin soon after we arrived, I could see the anticipation in everyone's eyes. We waited, and waited, and waited, and just when I could feel a sense of doubt in the air I heard the first "PEENT!" at 8:15.

The dance actually begins on the ground, as the male emits forth this distinctive, almost electric "PEENT!" sound that can be heard from quite a distance on a calm night. We walked along the dirt road until we had the bird positioned straight out from us in the prairie. After a few minutes there was a sudden cease to his "peenting," which was immediately followed by a soft but audible twittering as the bird began his spiral up into the darkening sky. With a little light still left, we were able to watch this chunky, softball-sized bird with a long, straight bill flitter with all his gusto upward and out of sight.

Still able to hear the twitter, which is actually produced by air rushing through the bird's feathers, we began to hear a few chirps, which are vocalizations given by the bird on his zigzagging descent. The chirping got louder, and we were able to see him just as he plopped down back onto his "peenting" grounds.

The great conservationist Aldo Leopold termed this spectacle the "Sky Dance." Ever since I witnessed this spectacle for the first time nine years ago, I have never missed a spring performance. And just like all performances, the "Sky Dance" is best enjoyed in the company of others; hearing the bewonderment in the students' voices this time was just as enjoyable as watching the woodcock itself.

I think that wherever I end up in life, the woodcock will always be a constant for me, which is something to be anticipated. For I know that each spring, the woodcock dances.

Yellow-bellied Sapsucker

2009-04-04T11:32:00.004-05:00

Yesterday afternoon I helped members of the Men's Leadership Club mount bluebird houses on trees in the college's Linnaeus Arboretum. The club had built the houses last fall as a gift for the arboretum, and today we finally got to put them up.

I thought that we could mount twelve of the houses yesterday afternoon in less than an hour. Two shattered houses, a broken hammer, and an hour and a half later, I was proved wrong. Lesson learned: don't mount bluebird houses on oak trees (they're a bit hard in the wood).

While I didn't see any bluebirds yesterday, I did notice another early spring arrival: this female Yellow-bellied Sapsucker.

This bird happens to be the name of my weekly bar trivia team. We wanted to pick a clever name, so we went with the name of a bird that could be taken as inappropriate in certain juvenile-istic contexts. American Woodcock and Red-headed Woodpecker were also considered.

The Yellow-bellied Sapsucker, as you might be able to guess from its profile, is a woodpecker. So here's a trivia question for you: How many species of woodpecker occur in Minnesota year-round?

The answer will appear in the next post.

Dark-eyed Junco

2009-03-24T18:10:00.003-05:00

A few weeks ago I was invited to be the special guest speaker at a St. Peter seniors group breakfast at Whiskey River, which is a restaurant in St. Peter that caters to people interested in birds (and by "caters," I mean that there are no less than thirty (30!) feeders of various make visible outside the restaurant's windows). This group of seniors meets once a month here for breakfast, and each month it gets a different speaker to present. The seniors wanted to know about birds, so their group coordinator found me and asked me to be the speaker for March.

This morning was that breakfast, and expecting a group of no more than twenty elderly folks, I was a bit surprised when I was greeted in the special dining room by sixty (60!) senior citizens.

Gulp.

I chatted with a few of the older guys as we ate our breakfast of sliced ham sitting on top of hash browns and scrambled eggs covered in cheese sauce (ask me another time if I enjoyed this). When everyone was finished, I got up and began my lecture on birds and birdfeeding.

Sometimes I need to outline my talks before hand; other times I just start talking and see what happens. After the first few minutes of talking this morning, I was a bit unsure of where to go next. Feeling a bit nervous in front of the sixty strangers staring at me, I glanced outside the window and caught a glimpse of a Dark-eyed Junco feeding on the ground. Seeing this one familiar face greatly encouraged me; I then talked briefly about juncos and the fact that they'd be around for about another month before heading back north. From here I went on to give one heck of a talk on birds to the group, complete with owl call imitations and mating behavior jokes. Everyone was very pleased and thanked me for an intriguing lecture on birds.

Thanks, junco.

Greater White-fronted Goose

2009-03-22T15:58:00.002-05:00

Spring is here!!! Finally! Yay!

This past Friday marked the official end of winter. Good riddance, in my opinion. I was beginning to go stir-crazy.

Now, however, I have been afflicted by a bad case of spring fever. To salve this contagion (or to give in to it, rather), I went "goosing" out in the southwest corner of the state with my good friend Chad Gustafson.

The vernal equinox happens to coincide with the beginning of peak goose migration in southwestern Minnesota. But I'm not talking about our familiar Canada Geese; indeed, in 400 miles of birding yesterday, I saw under 100 Canadas.

Our targets were giant flocks of Greater White-fronted Geese and Snow Geese, numbering well into the thousands. Chad and I encountered our biggest flock of the day a few miles north of U.S. Highway 90 in Jackson County; we estimated a total of 8,000 birds in this juggernaut. The following photo, showing one of the "smaller" flocks, was taken at a wildlife management area south of Worthington in Nobles County.

There are actually three species of geese in the photo: 1) Greater White-fronted, 2) Snow, and 3) Cackling (a.k.a. tiny Canadas). Can you find them all? If so, try to find the bonus bird: the "Blue Goose," which is actually a dark color morph of the regular white Snow Goose.

Snow Geese actually aren't all that uncommon in MN; while the big flocks are found out west, they do occur in smaller numbers in the eastern half of the state. Greater White-fronted Geese, or "Specklebellies" as hunters call them, can also be found mostly in the southeastern portion of the state in smaller numbers. The difference is that the flocks of Greater White-fronteds disappear in early April while the flocks of Snows can be found into early May. The highest numbers of both, however, seem to occur simultaneously in the fourth week of March.

In fall, the majority of these geese avoid Minnesota completely, migrating farther west into the Dakotas. Spring, then, is definitely the time for "goosing." And the massive flocks of Greater White-fronted Geese and Snow Geese are an affirmation of this.

Killdeer

2009-03-15T18:14:00.004-05:00

Right now I'm birding from my couch. I just got back from my friends' wedding in Brainerd, and I'm a bit tired from all the festivities, the highlight of which may have been us ushers and groomsmen dancing on the main stage to the country song "Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy."

The weather has certainly become spring-like this weekend; it is currently 55 degrees in St. Peter, which is why my window is open. And since I pretty much am never not birding, I'm listening for and identifying species flying over my apartment building.

I just heard my first Killdeer of the year a few minutes ago. I had predicted that I would hear or see one this past Thursday, but I think at that point the weather was still a bit too much like winter to be conducive to migrating birds. But looking at my records over the past 6 years, on average I've seen my first Killdeer of the year in MN on March 13. So, I should have predicted Friday instead of Thursday (I didn't think it would be THAT cold on the 12th), and as I was gone from Friday morning until a couple hours ago, St. Peter's first Killdeer of the year may well have arrived on March 13.

In the past hour I've also heard a flock of Canada Geese, Red-winged Blackbirds, and several Pine Siskins flying over. And somewhere in the neighborhood I can hear both a Northern Cardinal and an American Robin singing their spring songs.

And just a minute ago the building's outside door opened, and I heard a concerned mother yell her son's name in a stern voice, right outside my window, disturbing my auditory peace. And shortly after this I heard her son come running, asking, "Am I in trouble?"

Ah, the joys of birding by ear.

Pine Siskin

2009-03-07T22:36:00.003-06:00

Bottoms up! No, I'm not drinking tonight. Or not yet, at least. It seems that some of you are a bit surprised at my use of alcohol. Rest assured: I'm only a casual and social drinker.

This past week there was an increase in birdfeeding activity at the Interpretive Center. The above photo of a Pine Siskin was taken through my screened office window; this species has been present in St. Peter since mid-September of last year, but until this past week I had never seen the birds at any of our feeders.

Pine Siskins, like the Common Redpolls and White-winged Crossbills, are on their way out, or headed north rather. It was fun enjoying these birds this winter; I'm guessing it will be some time before these three species return to southern Minnesota, all in the same winter, in these large of numbers.

As these birds head north, of course, spring arrivals are already entering our state from the south. From now until early June, the life of a birder is a very busy one, and thus you can expect more frequent posts.

And probably less drinking.

Horned Lark

2009-02-28T16:30:00.004-06:00

I'm ready for spring. I'm so bored with winter that last night I even tried to drink it away via six games of beer pong and three shots of God-knows-what at the bar.

But it was still winter when I woke up this morning; the only difference was that I was now most likely missing a few brain cells. Cursing groundhogs and alcohol, I decided to take a leisurely drive north to Henderson to see if any winter birds were still around.

I found very little bird activity in the town; it appears the large numbers of Common Redpolls have begun to head back north. I drove up and down a few residential streets looking for feeders with birds, but after finding nothing interesting I decided to drive west above the river valley into open farm country.

I soon spotted a few little brown birds on the dirt road ahead of me, and as I approached them I realized they were Horned Larks, the first official migrants of spring.

Migrant flocks headed north begin to appear in southern Minnesota as early as late January some years, and by late February many of these birds have begun to set up territories and exhibit courtship behavior.

Horned Larks are fairly common during the warmer months, but because they are mostly brownish they blend in with the ground, on which they are almost always seen. The best time to actually see them, then, is in late winter or early spring when snow is still on the ground and the birds cluster near roadsides. Right now, if you're driving a gravel road in open country and you see a small brown bird fly in front of your car or flush from the roadside, there's a pretty good probability that the bird is a Horned Lark.

Despite the snow cover and cold temperatures, there are signs of spring to be found. But it sure seems like spring is taking its sweet time in getting here.

Hey, is that a bottle of tequila in my cupboard?

Wilson's Snipe

2009-02-19T21:46:00.002-06:00

February.

Proof that winter is one month too long.

The days grow longer, yet somehow they seem colder.

Gone is the excitement of the first snows of December,

And too distant is the cheeriness of spring.

The days are spent in a recurring solitude.

Yet here is a snipe, a solitary bird, cold and alone,

Surviving despite the bitterness of winter.

Why he did not fly south in November is a mystery.

But his reasons are his own, and so here he remains in a frigid stream.

This bird has endured unimaginable hardship, alone.

Many months have passed since his companions departed.

The encroaching ice threatens to be his defeat;

How easy it would be to close his eyes tonight for the last time.

But he persists.

Not once has he lost hope.

Hope for warmth, hope for the promise of spring, hope for a future;

In a cold, dark stream, only hope survives.

Spring will come, as it always does. And that gives me hope.

Eurasian Collared-Dove

2009-02-14T12:32:00.003-06:00

As often occurs on a weekend morning when I am not out birding, this morning I was awoken by a phone call from a birder. I have a weird streak going; the mornings after partying hard and other late night activities seem to coincide with rare birds being found. Last night I was at a hard rock concert in Mankato starring the bands Avenged Sevenfold, Papa Roach, and Buckcherry. I got home about midnight, and my ears still haven't stopped ringing. Thus I had no intention of going birding this morning.

But my attempts to sleep in were thwarted as a call came in from Twin Cities birder Denny Martin reporting that he and his wife Barb were looking at three Eurasian Collared-Doves in St. Peter. I had actually heard about these birds a couple months ago when a local couple told me they had ECD's coming to their feeders, but until now the birds hadn't been verified.

Shortly after my call from Denny I was looking at the doves in someone's backyard only three minutes from my apartment. This one perched nicely on the nearby fence line:

As you can gather from its name, the Eurasian Collared-Dove is another exotic species that has naturalized itself into North America. The first birds entered the country in southern Florida in the early 1980s, and they've been spreading north and west ever since. The first ECD showed up in western MN a little over ten years ago, and currently the species has been found in almost all of southern MN's counties as well as many counties in the northern half of the state.

I found the first Nicollet County birds in 2005, but since then neither I nor anyone else had seen any more. But now it appears that these birds are three new St. Peter residents. And according to the couple that originally told me about them, the doves have been here since spring of last year.

Denny also mentioned that two of the doves appeared to be acting "amorous," suggesting mating behavior. Apparently birds celebrate Valentine's Day too.

Common Redpoll

2009-02-09T18:22:00.003-06:00

This past weekend a few friends and I went birding in southwest Minnesota to see what was there. Birders are generally absent from this part of the state during the winter months (they all flock to Duluth instead), so our trip was largely exploratory.

The weather was mostly decent, but the birds were few and far between. There are extensive prairies in SW MN, but blanketed in snow and ice these grasslands appeared vacant and mostly devoid of bird life.

We spent Saturday night at the quaint and cozy Hillcrest Motel along Hwy. 75 on the north side of Luverne, a couple miles south of Blue Mounds State Park (my favorite state park in MN). The most excitement actually came from driving through the towns of Nobles, Rock, Pipestone, and Murray counties. Throughout the weekend we drove through small towns with such names as Trotsky, Jasper, Adrian, and Currie. Our target: Common Redpolls.

These birds, like the White-winged Crossbills, are undergoing a winter irruption into southern MN (the above photo was actually taken at the Interpretive Center at Gustavus). As we confirmed during our weekend excursion, the redpolls have indeed reached all the way through southern MN. Sometimes the birds were easy to find (we had a flock of 100 or so flying around our car at one point), and other times we had to drive nearly every block of a town searching for bird feeders. We probably looked rather suspicious driving well under the speed limit through residential neighborhoods, staring into people's yards with our binoculars. Oh well...birders are well used to being accused of peeping tommery.

The Invasion Continues...

2009-02-03T17:49:00.010-06:00

Today a flock of over 40 of the little white-winged monsters went to town on the White Spruces near the Interpretive Center, and look at the devastation!

This is pretty good evidence that crossbills have been feeding in your area. Yesterday there were no cones on the ground, and within a matter of hours today the crossbills had stripped some of the trees of nearly 50% of their cones. While the birds were busy feeding, I was able to approach the frenzy quite closely, and as a result obtained some interesting photos.

The following shows both a male and female sitting on the snowbank in front of the line of trees (don't they look voracious?).

The next photo shows a male in fairly good detail: notice the overextended upper mandible (top half of the bill) that crosses over the lower mandible (bottom half of bill).

Here's a group of birds together (notice the female's yellow rump).

A closeup of the crossed bill separating cone scales:

A female posing:

And a male that has pried loose a spruce seed:

Cool birds, aren't they?

White-winged Crossbill

2009-01-30T18:49:00.003-06:00

We are in the midst of an invasion. They're appearing in our skies, numbering in the thousands. Recent reports suggest that more are coming. They have singled out their targets, and are at present wreaking havoc on southern Minnesota's population...of spruce cones.

I'm talking of course about White-winged Crossbills. These finches are at home in the forests of Canada but can generally be found in northern Minnesota during the winter months. This winter, however, they are being found well south into the southern half of the state.

The reason? The birds feed on the cones of spruces, and apparently the spruces in their normal Canadian range had a very low cone production this past year. Coincidentally, Minnesota's spruces had an exceptionally good year, and the following photo shows what has been a common characteristic of southern Minnesota's spruce trees this winter.

For the crossbills, it's all about finding cones. The above photo is of a White Spruce (Picea glauca), which seems to be the preferred species for these birds in my part of the state. They apparently feed on Black Spruce (Picea mariana) just as frequently, but this species is difficult to come by in southern MN.

This morning while outside briefly at work a flock of five White-winged Crossbills flew over me. I find these birds intriguing for some reason; I've been keeping track of the reports of White-winged Crossbills in southern MN this winter as well as the trees upon which they have been reported feeding. Such a crossbill invasion as this winter's isn't something that happens often--maybe once a decade or two--which is why I will be writing an article for The Loon, journal of the Minnesota Ornithologists' Union, analyzing the irruption. Stay tuned for that.

In the meantime, keep watching the skies...and the spruces.

Golden Eagle

2009-01-25T13:54:00.004-06:00

Last night I dreamt that I found a Boreal Owl in Scott County.

As is the case with most of my dreams, it didn't come true. While out looking for my imaginary Boreal Owl, however, I did find a Golden Eagle.

Golden Eagles aren't very easy to find in MN; they are most often seen at Hawk Ridge in Duluth during migration or along the Mississippi River Valley in the southeast corner of the state in winter. Everywhere else, you pretty much have to get lucky.

Around noon today I was driving along the short road through the Ney Nature Center in the northwest tip of Le Sueur County when I spotted a large raptor flying along the MN River bluffs. As I watched the bird fly parallel to my car I realized it was a Golden Eagle. I followed the bird as it flew north out to where the nature center road ends at Hwy. 19 at the top of the river bluffs. It banked a few times, then made a powerful dive at an encroaching Bald Eagle. My camera was ready.

Both the Golden Eagle and the Bald Eagle were young birds: the Golden probably a 1st year (notice the extensive white on the upperside of the tail in the first photo), and the Bald probably a 2nd year (extensive white underneath, brownish head). Notice the slightly smaller size of the Golden in comparison to the Bald in the second photo.

So I didn't get my Boreal Owl, but I think a Golden Eagle will do just fine.

Northern Hawk Owl, Again

2009-01-21T23:08:00.004-06:00

So here's the million-dollar question: how did this Northern Hawk Owl end up in a suburban front yard in North Mankato yesterday, January 20?

If you have an answer please let me know.

Northern Hawk Owl and Great Gray Owl

2009-01-18T18:35:00.005-06:00

Tonight's post is the Sunday special: TWO species for the price of one.

About an hour ago I returned from a birding trip up north with a couple friends. Our target: two species of owl in the Sax-Zim Bog west of Duluth.

We spotted our first owl around 1:00 PM Saturday on the famed McDavitt Road in the northern part of the bog: this Northern Hawk Owl.

This owl is somewhat of an oddball; as its name suggests, it does look a bit like a hawk, with its long tail and relatively sleek profile. And, like a hawk, it is most active during the day. Around the size of a crow, this owl feeds on mice and voles. And the most amazing thing about the Northern Hawk Owl is actually its hunting method: it simply scares its prey to death.

Ok, so that last sentence isn't true, but look at the owl...if you were a mouse, wouldn't you be terrified?

Our second owl was found around 4:15 PM that same day, about 200 yards up McDavitt from where we saw the Northern Hawk Owl. This Great Gray Owl was certainly a spectacular end to a good day of birding in the bog.

In case you can't tell from the photo, the Great Gray Owl is HUGE...about the size of an eagle in length. Interestingly, this owl is mostly fluff and feathers; while it is the largest in length, the Great Horned Owl is much larger in weight. And while the Great Horned Owl feeds on large prey up to the size of small dogs, the Great Gray Owl, like the Northern Hawk Owl, feeds on small rodents.

To me, the most striking feature of the Great Gray Owl is its yellow eyes. When I see them, I can't help but wonder what the owl is thinking...and whether it wonders the same thing back at me.

I wonder what the mice and voles are thinking.

Ring-necked Pheasant

2009-01-13T22:06:00.006-06:00

I'm not a big fan of pheasants. They're naturalized exotics, there's too many of them, and they SCARE THE HELL OUT OF ME.

Well maybe startle is a better word.

Take this afternoon for example. There is cluster of crabapple trees standing on each side of the walkway between the parking lot and the Interpretive Center (the same trees on which the robins have been feeding). As I exited the Interpretive Center and walked by the trees I was met by a loud "WHOOSH" of feathers. I jumped, which is generally my natural reflex upon hearing abrupt loud noises, as I watched four hen (female) Ring-necked Pheasants fly away.

First, it's not very often that I see pheasants feeding on crabapples in a tree. And second, these trees are about 15 yards from the building, so you can see why I was a bit surprised by the whole ordeal.

But it's certainly not the first time pheasants have done this to me. I remember looking for sparrows in a large tract of short-grass prairie south of Mankato a few years ago; as I walked slowly and calmly in pursuit of some small songbirds, a rooster (male) pheasant, hidden until that instant, took flight literally at my feet as I gave a shout of horror and collapsed into a protective crouching position.

It's a good thing that I don't suffer from hypertension.

Merlin

2009-01-10T16:12:00.005-06:00

This morning Mankato birder Chad Heins and I went to look for winter birds south of Mankato. One of the first birds that we found was an adult male Merlin perched on a telephone wire south of town, probably hunting the plentiful flocks of overwintering robins in the area.

Unfortunately the bird flew away before I could photograph it, so instead I will share a picture of my cat, whose name is also Merlin.

What similarities are there between Merlin the cat and Merlin the falcon? Let's count the ways:

1. My cat, like the falcon, is a skilled hunter. He'll often wait around corners and ambush his prey, often my foot, as the falcon stealthily appears seemingly out of nowhere to nab its prey.
2. My cat is mostly black; Merlins are relatively dark-plumaged falcons.
3. My cat likes to be airborne, or at least likes to jump; the falcon is at home in the air.

But of course there are several notable differences:

1. My cat sometimes goes after prey much larger than himself (me), while the falcon generally hunts birds smaller than itself.
2. My cat is EXTREMELY friendly with strangers; the falcon is rather shy around people.
3. My cat wakes me up in the morning by licking me and attempting to sleep on my face; the falcon rarely does this.

American Robin

2009-01-07T18:44:00.003-06:00

Yesterday morning as I walked from the parking lot to my office in the Gustavus Adolphus College interpretive center where I work I was greeted by this American Robin in a crabapple tree.

Robins, for some reason, are overwintering in southern MN in the thousands this winter. There are a few locations in which small numbers (usually less than 100) can be found overwintering each year, but no one seems to remember ever seeing this many. Record high counts of American Robins were reported on several southern MN Christmas Bird Counts (CBC's) this winter. Currently there are several hundred that can be seen almost anywhere in the St. Peter/Mankato area, and they are just about as common in the Twin Cities. Additionally, Duluth and other northern locations have reported unusually high numbers of robins.

So the question is this: why didn't these robins go south with the rest of their kind? Is the economy to blame? Global warming? ManBearPig?

One possibility is food sources. Berry trees and bushes, such as crabapple, mountain ash, and cranberry, seem to have been very productive in terms of fruiting this past year, and thus there appears to be a bumper crop of berries. Robins feed on berries, so perhaps some of the migrating birds were coaxed into staying put with a plentiful resource instead of expending energy to migrate farther south.

Temperatures were a bit milder during much of November, so perhaps some of the robins had already thought they had reached the southern United States (remember when it reached 70 degrees during the first week of November?).

Some CBC's in the Dakotas reported less robins than usual, so perhaps western birds moved east?

The answer is that it was probably a combination of several factors that contributed to our higher numbers of robins this winter. Including the possibility that the collective intelligence of American Robins has suddenly decreased (Minnesota or Gulf Coast? Hmm...).

Common Grackle

2009-01-03T13:45:00.005-06:00

I witnessed something rather "uncommon" about a Common Grackle today.

There is a spot just across the river from St. Peter in Le Sueur County that has attracted large numbers of overwintering blackbirds in recent winters. This spot has two things going for it: Hermie's Bar, Bait & Tackle, which spreads corn feed and sometimes fish bait outside in addition to maintaining seed feeders; and a small spring-fed marsh, which provides some open water even during the coldest of days.

This afternoon I counted 59 Red-winged Blackbirds, 67 Common Grackles, and at least two Brown-headed Cowbirds at this location. These are the highest totals that I have ever counted for both Red-winged Blackbirds and Common Grackles here in winter.

The big surprise, however, came as I began to photograph one of the grackles near the edge of the small pool of open water. The bird waited on the dry ground, staring at the water intently. Then it suddenly jumped into the water, snatched a minnow in its bill, and returned to its perch! Within the short time I was there it caught three fish; the following photo is its third catch.

I generally don't find Common Grackles very interesting; they're noisy, messy, and boisterous. They form large migrating flocks in the spring and fall (numbering well into the tens of thousands), and they often raid bird feeders and feedlots. But today, I must say that this opportunistic bird stole the show.

European Starling

2009-01-01T19:32:00.003-06:00

Just as in 2007 and 2008, I greeted the first day of 2009 with a hangover. Maybe five St. Peter bars was one too many.

Bright lights and hangovers don't mix very well, and thus I decided to take it easy and stay in my apartment all the sunny day long. But I really wanted to start posting on January 1, and obviously I needed to see a bird to do so.

Just past noon, I peeked briefly out my first-floor apartment window, and lo and behold a flock of ten European Starlings flew overhead. Great timing.

I can always count on seeing starlings in St. Peter, or in just about any urban/suburban/residential area in Minnesota for that matter. The birds are true generalists, finding a home in pretty much any habitat in North America. The birds are also remarkably adaptable, and thus urban and suburban sprawl have only encouraged the species' success since its introduction in North America in the late nineteenth century.

The story goes that some guy obsessed with Shakespeare wanted to introduce every species of bird mentioned in The Bard's works to the New World. Back then environmental ways of thinking weren't exactly widespread, and this inspired man brought many European birds to New York. Most of the species he introduced never established populations, and accordingly disappeared from the continent. One, however, found the New World to be very accommodating: the European Starling. Today this bird numbers in the hundreds of millions in North America, all descendants of the few original birds released in New York.

Plumage-wise, the European Starling is actually rather beautiful. It's all black with little white specs (stars, perhaps) patterned throughout its feathers. Adults have bright yellow bills and orange-pink legs, and in breeding plumage the black feathers actually appear a metallic blue, purple, and green in the right light. But compared to other starling species, some of which are gawdy yellows, reds, and sky blues, the European Starling isn't much of a looker.

Its repertoire, however, is perhaps the most interesting thing about the European Starling. Regular vocalizations include squeaky shrieks and whistles, but often the birds will mimic the sounds of other birds. I've been in the middle of a large city on several occasions and heard perfect renditions of Red-tailed Hawks, Eastern Wood-Pewees, Red-eyed Vireos, and Eastern Meadowlarks, only to see a starling sitting on the edge of a rooftop singing its heart out.

So even though the European Starling isn't a native species, it's nonetheless an impressive one. I'll toast to that.

A Year in Birds

2008-12-30T21:04:00.002-06:00

I haven't been posting as much as I would like as of late, but all that is about to change...

So far I've shared several aspects of birding with you, but I think I've left out the main reason why I enjoy birding: the birds themselves. In order for you to fully understand my passion, and for that matter me, I think you need to understand the birds that have become so much a part of my life.

Beginning January 1, 2009, my posts will center on the species that I am seeing as the year progresses. I will try to post frequently, as often as I can, on the birds that I come across. Each post will have a single bird as its topic, and I'll try, to the best of my ability, to write something meaningful about that species. Sometimes within a post I'll talk about several birds, but the "title bird" will be the focus. Maybe I'll write something interesting about the bird; maybe I'll write something interesting about me.

If you've ever read Refuge by Terry Tempest Williams, the author uses a similar format in her chapters. The birds of Bear River Migratory Bird Refuge define her life; similarly, the birds of Minnesota define mine.

I'll continue to post photos as much as I can, and as I said before, I plan to blog rather frequently (two, three, four? times a week). I'm greatly looking forward to 2009, my year in birds!

Happy New Year!

Gulling

2008-12-07T19:28:00.008-06:00

There is no such species as a "seagull." This is simply a general term that people use to describe those white birds that follow ships or take popcorn out of one's hand.

The word "gull" is the correct term. The gull family, Laridae, consists of close to 70 species, none of which have been named "seagull" or "Sea Gull."

In North America, the two most widespread gulls people are likely to see are the Herring Gull and Ring-billed Gull. The average person, as one might guess, does not know that there is a
difference between the two, and thus they are all
labeled as "seagulls."

Birders, however, are well aware of the difference. In fact, in Minnesota there are ten species of gull that regularly occur each year. Some of these gulls breed here; others have come from the arctic, and still others from the Atlantic. But interestingly, one doesn't generally have to travel to exotic and outlandish locations to find them.

In Minnesota, late November through early January is the time to go "gulling." Most lakes are frozen at this time, and thus wherever there is open water one has a chance of finding concentrations of gulls. In the northern part of the state, the best spot for gulling is in Duluth; there is a large garbage dump in the nearby Wisconsin city of Superior that attracts gulls, and there is usually some open water around the city due to the size of Lake Superior (a larger lake takes longer to freeze).

In southern Minnesota, the most reliable spot for watching gulls is at Black Dog Lake in Burnsville on the south side of the Twin Cities. There is a coal power plant built on a causeway between the lake's eastern and western halves that keeps the adjacent water ice-free throughout winter; gulls roost on this water at night.

During the day, most of these gulls are dispersed throughout the southern metro area, feeding at garbage dumps and looking for handouts near restaurants. As the sun begins to set, they all return to Black Dog Lake.

Birders generally arrive between 3:30 and 4:00 PM to watch the gulls come in to roost. But gulling at Black Dog is no easy task for several reasons:

1. The gulls can be anywhere from 100 to 200 yards away as they sit on the lake, making a spotting scope a necessity (too far for binoculars).
2. Light is quickly fading as more and more gulls are arriving, making it more difficult to focus on individual birds.
3. The causeway from which birders scan for gulls is rather exposed, which means it gets REALLY cold, especially if it's windy (I've gone gulling here in below-zero temperatures).
4. Some gulls are difficult to identify even under ideal conditions.

Reason #4 above is the catcher. Every gull species has several plumages, which means even though you're looking at three birds that all appear distinctly different, they may all be the same species. And conversely, even though two birds look very similar, they might be different species. Most gulls don't attain their adult plumages (the usual all-white head, gray wings) until they're four or five years old, and every age until then is characterized by a different plumage.

Gulls in general, then, are among the most difficult birds to identify for birders. Yet gulling is very rewarding for those up to the challenge; indeed only yesterday seven species were seen at Black Dog Lake, which is about the best you can expect in Minnesota.

There are three species of gull in the following photo, taken on November 28 at Black Dog Lake. Can you see them all?

Looking Through My Office Window

2008-11-15T17:06:00.006-06:00

At 3:30 yesterday afternoon I was sitting in my office, about to leave a message on someone's voicemail, when I noticed a small, yellowish bird fly into the cranberry bushes about 20 feet outside my office window. Assuming it was just a late Golden-crowned Kinglet, I casually picked up my binoculars with one hand while still holding the phone in the other. As I focused in on the bird, I dropped the phone. This was no Golden-crowned Kinglet; rather, it was a White-eyed Vireo!

The White-eyed Vireo is a casual species in MN, meaning it's seen from 3-7 out of every 10 years. It breeds mostly in the southeastern United States and reaches only as far north as southern Wisconsin and southeastern Iowa. Generally these birds have left the northern part of their range by early October. I have seen this species only twice previously in the MN, and both were chases.

So you can understand how exciting this was for me to find this bird in the bushes outside my office in the Interpretive Center of Gustavus Adolphus College's Linnaeus Arboretum. After spotting the bird, I grabbed my camera and ran into the next room with large windows, shouting for my co-workers to come have a look. Through a window, I was able to snap this photo of the bird before it flew off.

I would compare finding such a rare species to hitting a home run in baseball. However, I wasn't even looking for rare birds; heck, I was just looking out my office window. Maybe, then, the equivalent of finding a rare bird without even trying is hitting a home run when you're laying down a bunt.

What's crazy is that I was in my office at the exact moment that this rare bird appeared outside my window. I don't spend all day in my office. In fact, I might not even be in my office 50 percent of the time. And even when I'm in my office I'm not constantly looking out my window. And keep in mind that this is a bird that is seen no more than about once in every two years anywhere in MN, and generally never as late as mid-November. What, then, is the probability that the vireo's life and my life would intersect on November 14?

I'm no statistician, but I do know that from now on I'll be looking through my office window more often.

A Boatride on Leech Lake

2008-10-21T17:26:00.024-05:00

There's something special about Cass County in north-central Minnesota. Over the past couple years several casual and accidental species have been found in the vicinities of Leech Lake and Lake Winnibigoshish, two very large "inland" lakes.

The latest Cass rarity was found this past Thursday: a Golden-crowned Sparrow from the Pacific coast. This sparrow has only been seen a few times in MN, and I had never seen one before anywhere, so naturally I wanted to chase it.

But this was to be no ordinary chase; it turns out that the sparrow was found on an island in Leech Lake. Pelican Island is a small island about five miles off the southern shore of the lake near the town of Whipholt. There are a few cabins on the northern end of Pelican Island; the sparrow was found frequenting a brush pile near these cabins.

I was spending the weekend with my good friend Ben Fritchman in Fargo; our plan was to go birding in northwest MN all weekend. Upon hearing about the sparrow, these plans changed. We, along with eight other birders, scheduled a 9:00 AM launch for Saturday from Huddle's Resort in Whipholt.

Ben and I were on the road heading east from Fargo by 5:45 AM Saturday morning, and by 8:30 we were in Whipholt. As we walked into Huddle's, we were greeted by three of our fellow birding passengers as well as the resort staff who seemed amused at hosting all these birders. As the final five birders arrived, we recognized our friends from southern MN: John Hockema, Chris Benson, and Chuck Krulas from Rochester; Dedrick Benz from Winona; and Jerry Bonkoski from Prior Lake.

Around 9:15 AM the group separated into the two pontoons that we had reserved (driven by Huddle's boatmen) and headed out to sea. The lake was fairly calm, but there was a slight wind at our backs that probably helped the boats arrive sooner on the sandy shore of Pelican Island not more than 20 minutes later. We quickly headed north on the path to the cabins and found the brush pile in front of us, but no sparrow. Whoops, wrong brush pile. We walked a bit farther and found the correct brush pile, and within a minute we spotted a nearby sparrow. Upon looking through our binoculars, we realized this was indeed our target bird, the Golden-crowned Sparrow.

We observed the sparrow for close to 45 minutes as it posed in front of us and associated with a closely related White-crowned Sparrow. I obtained decent photos of it while others took copious field notes. I think we were all overwhelmed with the situation; indeed, it seemed almost surreal that we were on an island in a lake in MN looking at this rare species. But we were happy, for we had all seen the sparrow.

The boatride back to the mainland was a little more eventful however. The wind had picked up considerably, and our little pontoons struggled against the sometimes three-foot waves as we tried to keep dry in the boat's stern. Going to the island had taken about 20 minutes; coming back, against the wind, had taken more like 40.

We were all glad as we reached dry land (some of us a little drier than others) and walked back to Huddle's, where everyone enjoyed victory burgers for lunch.

Karma and a Ferruginous Hawk

2008-10-12T13:30:00.008-05:00

Sit back, my friends, and I shall tell you a tale. The following events took place on this same weekend five years ago, October 10-12, 2003.

October 10, Friday night.
John Hockema and I are staying the night at his house in rural Byron just west of Rochester. We've got big plans for the weekend: Smith's Longspurs and a Black-headed Gull, two rare species only found in southwest MN and most often in mid-October. We would be driving west on Saturday, staying in some small town motel Saturday night, and then coming back Sunday evening.

We're watching a college football game on tv...the annual game between Minnesota and Michigan, in fact. Now I have never been much of a college football fan, but up until this game Minnesota had been undefeated, and I guess the team hadn't beaten Michigan in something like 25 years, so it was a pretty big deal. At halftime, Minnesota was up 14-0. Figuring that our home team was on its way to a good win, we continued to watch. "This is good karma for the weekend," notes John. By the end of the third quarter Minnesota was up 28-7.

But as any Golden Gophers fan remembers, Michigan scored 31 points in the final quarter, beating Minnesota 38-35. "Crap," I say. "Wrong kind of karma."

October 11, Saturday morning.
After about six hours of sleep, we wake at 4:30 AM and are on Hwy. 90 driving west by 5:00 AM. While the forecast had called for partly cloudy skies and no rain, we soon realize that the day is in fact going to be overcast, rainy, and cold. Bad karma.

Around 7:30 AM we arrive in the town of Jackson where we rendezvous with veteran birder Carol Schumacher from Winona. The three of us head south from Jackson to Spirit Lake along the MN-Iowa border. Our target? A Black-headed Gull that has been appearing at the north end of this lake each fall for several years.

The problem is that the bird likes to spend more time on the Iowa side of the border than on the Minnesota side. In fact, there is a fishing dock on which the bird often perches that is no more than ten yards into Iowa. Sometimes the bird is seen actively flying back and forth across the road, which means it is definitely entering MN. Other times, and I would think more often than not, it is content to stay perched on that Iowa dock for long periods of time (to the dismay of birders wanting to add it to their MN lists).

Some people have tried luring the gull closer to MN by throwing popcorn into the water. This "chumming," as it is called, works well with the common Ring-billed and Herring Gulls, but not so with the Black-headed Gull. Others have tried to "spook" the gull off the dock, causing it to fly around and hopefully cross the border, but often this causes the bird to fly south farther into Iowa.

John, Carol, and I aren't fans of either of these methods; rather, we decide to just wait on the side of the road until the gull flies into MN. Unfortunately for us, the gull has no intention of flying into MN that morning; by 10:00 AM, the gull had come as close as five yards but had failed to cross the border. With our patience waning, and tired of receiving awkward stares from Iowa fishermen, we give up our vigil.

We head north a few miles to look for birds at Heron Lake, which is a shallow lake in southern Jackson County that attracts thousands of shorebirds, waterfowl, and pelicans each year. As we walk out onto the mudflats, the rain picks up. After spying a few Sanderlings and Long-billed Dowitchers, we head back to the car, thoroughly drenched and moderately chilled.

As the day progresses, the rain stops and the clouds begin to thin, letting through the day's first rays of sunshine. Carol leaves us around 4:00 PM as John and I head north to the Nature Conservancy's Red Rock Prairie in Cottonwood County. For some reason, this prairie has been the only consistent location in the state for Smith's Longspur, which is a species of sparrow that migrates mostly west of MN through the Great Plains.

The problem is that these sparrows have a very narrow migration window in southwestern MN; i.e. they are found during one week in October and cannot be found before or after that week. This week is generally the second or third week in October, but never both, which means the longspurs could easily be missed on the "wrong" weekend.

As John and I walk through the prairie, we soon realize this is indeed the wrong weekend for Smith's (we would return the next weekend and find them). To make matters worse, the winds had picked up and were blowing hard from the west, making it difficult to find any birds.

October 11, Saturday night.
Around 7:30 PM John and I arrive in the town of Slayton in Murray County. On the north end of town there is a large set of sewage ponds that has been productive in the past. We decide to drive in despite the usual "No Trespassing" signs. As we enter the ponds, a pickup truck begins to follow us. Wondering if its driver is also a birder, we look at the man through our binoculars, who in return is staring at us with an angry look on his face. Uh-oh.

We quickly exit the ponds and drive to the only motel in Slayton, where we are told there are no vacancies (this weekend is generally a prime duck-hunting weekend). As John and I exit the office and walk back to our car in the parking lot, a police car pulls up to us. "Dammit!" exclaims John, which well describes the day's events thus far.

We tell the sheriff that we're birders, and he tells us that we're supposed to ask the town's permission to enter the ponds. "Whoops," John and I reply together. After the verbal warning, the sheriff suggests that we might find lodging in the town of Pipestone, which is of course a good
45-minute drive west of Slayton. Bad, bad karma.

So we drive for another 45 minutes to Pipestone, which is only a couple miles east of the South Dakota line. On the north side of town we check into the quaint Arrow Motel, which offers us a room with two beds for only $23.50. Ignoring the fact that the axiom "you get what you pay for" is too often true, we took the room and found it to be rather comfortable. Finally, something goes right.

After checking in, we head over to the nearby Pizza Hut for dinner. As we order, we're told that today there is a "buy one get one free" special. Okay, more things going good for us. But as we finish our first large pizza, neither of us is hungry enough to eat the second. So John comes up with the noble idea of giving the pizza to the most deserving person in Pipestone that we could find. After leaving the restaurant, we walk across the highway to a gas station, where we offer the pizza to its female clerk.

"There aren't drugs or anything on this, are there?" she asks with a concerned look on her face. John, who doesn't look too much like a drug dealer, assures her that the pizza is fine. "Well thank you!" the clerk replies. "My young son is at home and hasn't had dinner yet." She waved us goodbye with a smile on her face.

"If that's not good karma," I tell John, "then I don't know what is."

October 12, Sunday morning.
After a good night's sleep, we check out of the motel and are on the road by 6:30 AM. As the dawn fades, we can see that it is going to be a beautiful fall day. Just outside of town we discover a Merlin sitting on a telephone pole; this small falcon is uncommon anywhere in MN, so it's a good bird with which to start the day. We then head a few miles east of Pipestone to the farm of Nelvina DeKam; Nelvina is a very sweet old woman who is one of the few resident birders in southwest MN. She greets John and I with a smile as we arrive and tells us that there is a Spotted Towhee in the short treeline behind her house (a Spotted Towhee is a rare but regular species of sparrow in MN). We can hear the bird, and it definitely sounds like a Spotted Towhee, but when we find the bird it looks like the more expected Eastern Towhee, which means it's a hybrid. While a hybrid can't be counted on any list because it's not a pure species, in a way it is even rarer than either of its parent species and is still very cool to see.

From there John and I head west again to Hwy. 75 in Pipestone and drive north, paralleling the MN-South Dakota border. We begin noticing hawks migrating south in good numbers; indeed, every mile of road presents us with a new Red-tailed Hawk, Northern Harrier, or some other species. We joke that maybe we'll find a Ferruginous Hawk, which is a rare but regular species in Minnesota.

But "rare-regular" doesn't quite address how little this bird is seen in MN. While this species is seen in the state each year, it is most often the case that one bird is seen by one observer, once a year. That's it. And Ferruginous Hawks aren't chaseable; if one is found, it never sticks around for others to see it. In order to see one in MN, then, you have to be the one to find it. Because of this, more MN birders have a Glossy Ibis on their state lists than they do a Ferruginous Hawk, only because a Glossy Ibis (native to the gulf coast) stayed in the same spot for several days. Ferruginous Hawks can be found regularly and more frequently the farther west you go into the Dakotas; they just don't seem to migrate through MN in any significant numbers. And finally, there isn't any regular location to see one in MN.

We saw probably around 50 Red-tailed Hawks for most of the morning on our drive north, including some rarer all-dark morphs that may have been blown eastward by the previous day's strong west winds. Around noon we pull up along the east side of Salt Lake near the South Dakota border, west of the town of Montevideo, and scan the shallow water for shorebirds and waterfowl, our eyes tired from staring at the sky. We notice another hawk flying directly at us, rather low, and instinctively hold our binoculars to our eyes, ready to identify this bird as another Red-tail.

But once the hawk is in focus, our jaws drop. John and I look back at each other, but neither of us can speak. The excited looks on our faces say it all: Ferruginous Hawk!

As the majestic hawk flies overhead, we note its larger size compared to a Red-tail (the Ferruginous Hawk is the largest hawk in North America). Underneath, the bird is almost an immaculate white, with very little fine gray streaking on the belly and a dark "comma" at the ends of the underwing coverts on each wing. We watch the bird circle overhead for about ten minutes and then follow it east for a few more minutes until it flies out of sight. At this point John gets out of the car, runs into the nearest farm field, and performs a victory dance. I just smile and stare in the direction of the departed hawk.

As we start heading back east, we make a few calls to some other birders who are birding a couple hours north of us. By the time they arrive, of course, the hawk is long gone. A typical Ferruginous Hawk, just passing through, seen only by John and I. And to this day both John and I have seen only one Ferruginous Hawk in Minnesota.

Good karma.

********

I like to think that karma had something to do with us finding the Ferruginous Hawk, but maybe it was something else. Maybe it was God. Maybe it was dumb luck, a case of being in the right place at the right time. Whatever one might call it, I know it is inherent in birding.

A Quick Lesson in Flight

2008-09-23T22:24:00.008-05:00

I recently took some photos of a Turkey Vulture in flight. The photos are rather sharp and show good detail, allowing us to study some finer points of identification.

The first photo (click to enlarge) shows the vulture flying towards you. Even at a distance, you would be able to identify this bird as a Turkey Vulture because of its characteristic V-shaped flight profile. This V-shape is called a dihedral. As a Turkey Vulture glides and soars, it keeps its wings held in this dihedral, seldom flapping them. Other raptors (hawks, eagles, falcons) can also show dihedral flight profiles, but rarely as pronounced as on a Turkey Vulture. In Minnesota, you can pretty much guarantee that if you see a large all-black bird flying with a dihedral it's a Turkey Vulture. Juvenile Bald Eagles, which can appear all-black, keep their wings held in a flat profile and generally beat their wings more.

The second photo shows the vulture almost directly overhead, providing us nice looks at the bird's underside anatomy. The following is a list of terms used to describe the bird's underparts:

A - Primaries
B - Secondaries
C - Undertail (retrices)
D - Undertail coverts
E - Underwing coverts

Primaries are the longer feathers near the wingtips; these feathers are used to create thrust. Secondaries are the shorter feathers between the primaries and the body; these feathers are used to create lift. Both the primaries and secondaries are collectively called remiges (flight feathers). The tail feathers (retrices) are used as a rudder to steer the bird. The undertail coverts cover the base of the tail feathers and help to streamline the bird's body and make it aerodynamic; the underwing coverts do the same for the primaries and secondaries.

On some raptors all of the above parts appear physically distinct due to plumage coloration, but on a Turkey Vulture they all appear dark. Additionally, the relative sizes and shapes of these parts can differ dramatically among species. Notice, however, the two-toned coloration of the Turkey Vulture's underside, as the remiges and retrices appear lighter than the darker coverts.

Class dismissed.

Results

2008-09-14T13:26:00.021-05:00

While we had planned on camping at Fort Ridgely State Park, Chad somehow forgot his sleeping bag, so we decided to drive back to St. Peter at day's end and then get an early start back to Fort Ridgely Saturday morning. We shrugged it off and were on Hwy. 99 en route to western Nicollet County by 3:30 Friday afternoon.

Our first stop was at the shorebird spot on the east side of Hwy. 4 in the western tip of the county. The water level appeared to have dropped slightly since our last visit here in mid-August, enabling us to walk a bit further over the firmer mudflats toward the opposite end of the wetlands. We found a nice assortment of shorebirds here, including both Greater and Lesser Yellowlegs, Stilt Sandpipers, Pectoral Sandpipers, Semipalmated and Least Sandpipers, Semipalmated Plovers, and the ubiquitous Killdeer.

On the way back to the car, we noticed several people back up on the roadside looking at us through binoculars and spotting scopes. As we neared the group, I recognized them as birders from the Twin Cities. As it turned out, they were stopping to look for shorebirds on their way out west to the "bump" to cover that area for the Birding Day. As we exchanged sightings, they told us of two Buff-breasted Sandpipers they had found at the Fairfax sewage ponds, about six miles north of our present location.

Since I am really fond of "Buffies," as I call them, Chad and I zoomed north to the small town of Fairfax. As we approached the ponds, we noticed a large flock of Killdeer flying away. We soon discovered the reason for this departure: this adult Cooper's Hawk hunting for birds (photo courtesy of Chad). These hawks are highly predatory and prefer small birds as prey; shorebirds make great meals for them. Eventually the hawk moved on, but our search for the Buffies proved unsuccessful. The question is whether they flew off with the Killdeer or ended up as dinner for the hawk.

From there we drove south about 12 miles to the famed Sleepy Eye sewage ponds in Brown County and once again found the birders whom we had met earlier. But they looked a bit more animated than before, and for good reason: there was a juvenile Sabine's Gull on one of the ponds!

I had only seen one Sabine's Gull ever prior to this bird. They are most often seen flying over Lake Superior in Duluth in September, but even then not every year, so this species is considered a casual species in MN. Naturally, then, seeing one at a sewage pond in southern MN is a pretty big deal.

We watched this bird hoping that it would fly, because when its wings are open one sees a stunning pattern of black wedges and white triangles on its upperside. The gull, however, seemed pretty content to remain sitting on the water at a considerable distance from us. Chad wandered farther down the main berm while I continued to study the Sabine's. While I sat waiting for it to fly, I heard a sharp whistle and looked down the berm at Chad waiving his arms, which is the universal birding signal for "I've got something here!" I turned back to the gull, only to find that it had flown. As I frantically searched for it, a shadow crossed over me. Looking up, I saw the gull flying not more than 20 feet over my head! As it lowered to the water for a landing, I was able to see the flashy upperwing pattern. Sweet.

Next I walked down the berm to where Chad was still standing. He was looking at something on the adjacent berm about 100 yards away. As I walked up to him, he said there were three shorebirds walking in the grass that weren't Killdeer. Hmm...shorebirds in grass. Now what non-Killdeer shorebird is most often seen in grass, or sod rather?

Sure enough, as I focused my scope on the three shorebirds, I saw the characteristic tan-colored bodies of three Buff-breasted Sandpipers. Chad and I stayed with the Buffies until close to sunset, eventually obtaining decent photos as the birds actively foraged for insects within 20 feet of us.

As we left the sewage ponds, the light was fading fast. A thought popped into my mind as we drove north back into Nicollet County: an owl thought. I recalled a report of an Eastern Screech-Owl at Fort Ridgely State Park from early summer. So on a whim we entered the park around 7:45 PM and drove down to a picnic area near the stream that runs through the park. We waited five minutes for the sky to darken, then I brought out my iPod attached to a very small (but surprisingly loud) speaker.

While most people have only music on their iPods, I also have birdsongs on mine. So I played an Eastern Screech-Owl recording, aiming the speaker into the thick deciduous woods across the stream. Five minutes later three screech-owls were whinnying back at us (they sound more like horses than "hoot-owls"). We returned home around 9:30 PM and decided to celebrate our successes with a few drinks at Patrick's Bar in St. Peter. Long Island iced teas always taste better after a good day of birding.

Saturday morning greeted us with cloudy skies and intermittent rain (but no hangovers). Our first stop was the exact same spot where we had the screech-owls the previous night, but now our target was warblers. In the fall, warblers aren't as easy to identify, let alone find, as they are in the spring. If you're lucky, you'll come across a few small waves (migrating groups consisting of several species), but never in the numbers you'll see in the spring.

Additionally, fall warblers are much more unpredictable than spring warblers. Which is why Chad and I found a Black-throated Green Warbler at our first spot, but little else with it. We spent the next several hours in the vicinity of the state park as the rain steadily continued, with our best find being three Red-headed Woodpeckers. As the rain refused to stop, we realized that not camping the night before was probably a good decision.

Around 11:00 we ran into a small warbler wave along the shores of the MN River just south of the park, with the highlight being a Magnolia Warbler. Hoping that things might have picked up, we returned to our original warbler spot inside the state park and found a wave that included 10 species of warbler (the highlight being a Blackburnian Warbler), three species of vireo, three species of flycatcher, and a single Scarlet Tanager. It was still raining, the temperature had changed little, and the sky had not brightened any. Yet for some reason there was a warbler wave where there hadn't been one only a couple hours earlier. Unpredictable.

At noon we headed back to St. Peter, and at 3:00 Chad and I arrived in Henderson for the rally. Parking was a bit of an issue, as this was the same day as the town's annual Heritage Days. Thus many people in town, including the local Hendersonites at the rally, were dressed as if it was 1860. An interesting finale to the Great Minnesota River Birding Day.

Chad and I personally saw 87 species over the two days. The official total for the entire watershed is currently at 176 species, but we're still waiting to hear from teams out west as well as a few in the Twin Cities. I'm guessing the final total will be somewhere between 190 and 200 species.

The Great Minnesota River Birding Day

2008-09-10T18:36:00.006-05:00

This weekend marks the 8th year for the Great Minnesota River Birding Day. It's basically a count, or census if you will, of the species that can be found within the MN River watershed from Friday afternoon through Saturday.

The MN River watershed runs across the state from Big Stone Lake in the west (near the "bump" on the state's western border) to the Twin Cities in the east. But the watershed doesn't just include the river; it includes all the river's associated wetlands and tributaries as well. Teams of birders will be out birding various sections of the watershed on Friday and Saturday; consequently this weekend is probably the weekend that sees the highest concentration of birders in southern MN. The following map shows the counties within the MN River watershed highlighted in blue.

The section of the watershed for which I am responsible is the western third of Nicollet County. I've birded this area on this weekend for the past few years as part of the count, and haven't had much success doing so. In past years this weekend has been windy and unusually cold, which generally makes birding not so great. And what makes my area even more difficult to bird is the fact that somewhere around 95% of western Nicollet County is farmland.

But I've got high hopes for this weekend; the forecast is for clear skies on Friday and Saturday morning. There is a decent shorebird spot in the western tip of the county that has been very productive (the very spot where Chad and I sat in the blind and photographed shorebirds in August), and warbler migration should be peaking soon. Chad is joining me for the count as well, and we plan to camp out at Fort Ridgely State Park, which is also located in the western tip of the county and is therefore within our count area. We plan to get up early and start birding around the campground on Saturday morning, so the orange vodka and Coronas will probably have to wait until Saturday night.

At 3:00 Saturday afternoon there is an informal rally for the count held in several locations around southern MN. The closest rally to St. Peter/Mankato is being held in the town of Henderson at Henderson Feathers, the town's official birding center. Here I have been given the privileged task of conducting the count, i.e. all the teams that come to the rally report their sightings to me. I then report these totals to the head compiler in the Twin Cities, and after he receives the totals from the other rallies a final total is published. Usually this number is somewhere between 150-200 species for the entire watershed.

So will the weather hold up? Will the birds cooperate? Will Bob and Chad find a rare bird worthy of a round of drinks?

Tune in Sunday, same bird-time, same bird-channel.

Quiz Answers

2008-08-21T20:53:00.010-05:00

And now, what you've been so anxiously waiting for all week: the answers to the shorebird quiz.

Let's begin with the top left photo. First, we notice that the bird appears to have a distinct horizontally long appearance. This is due to the fact that the bird's primaries (wing tips) extend beyond the tail tip when folded. This field mark is a characteristic of two shorebird species: Baird's Sandpiper and White-rumped Sandpiper. Next we notice the buffy (tan) color of the upperparts, face, and breast, as well as the unstreaked white belly, distinguishing this bird as a Baird's Sandpiper. White-rumped Sandpipers generally don't show up until later in the fall, and thus Baird's is the expected species in August.

Next we move to the top right photo. Compared to the Baird's Sandpiper, this bird has a taller appearance. Next, we notice its yellow legs, whereas the Baird's has dark legs. Looking at the bill, we see it has an orangish base (the part of the bill adjacent to the head), different from the all-dark bill of the Baird's. While the photo doesn't show it as boldly, the bird's breast can be seen as streaked grayish in color, distinctly separated from a clean white belly. All of these field marks are characteristic of a Pectoral Sandpiper.

While overall size is difficult to judge in photos, in the field it is fairly obvious and can even be a field mark. For the next two birds, I will tell you that they are very small, among the smallest species of shorebird (called "peeps"; see previous post). In fact, three sizes of shorebird have already been represented in my photos: the Pectoral is the largest of the group between 8 and 9 inches, followed by the Baird's around 7 inches, and then the peeps around 6 inches.

The left bird appears paler (whiter) overall than the right bird, which appears to have browner upperparts than the bird on the left. Looking at the birds' faces, this is especially apparent; the left bird has a mostly white face, while the right bird's face is much browner. Next, look at the bill shapes of the two birds. The left bird appears to have a stouter bill that stays straight to the tip. The right bird has a thinner bill that tapers downward somewhat at the tip. Finally, look at the leg colors of the two birds; the left bird has blackish legs while the right bird has yellow-greenish legs. Thus, taking these field marks into account, the left bird can be identified as a Semipalmated Sandpiper and the right bird can be identified as a Least Sandpiper. Additionally, this photo shows the size difference between the two species, the Semipalmated averaging larger than the Least:

We are now left with the final photo at the bottom center of the group. This bird is distinctly different from the other sandpipers; notice its shorter bill and more upright posture. In fact, this bird is not a sandpiper at all; it's a species of plover. Plovers are generally less picky than sandpipers when it comes to foraging habitat, and this species is no exception. While they do enjoy mudflats, they can also be found in dry farm fields, suburban lawns, and even baseball fields (sometimes during games). It is a common bird throughout most of Minnesota spring through fall, and is readily recognized by its two black breastbands on white underparts and brownish upperparts. This, of course, is a Killdeer. In terms of size, between 10 and 11 inches it's larger than a Pectoral Sandpiper.

So now you can identify five species of shorebird. Wasn't that fun?

Two Guys in a Blind

2008-08-16T16:02:00.013-05:00

Chad and I went out early this morning to photograph shorebirds with a new piece of gear: a hunting blind. By 7:30 AM we were at the shallow wetlands in western Nicollet County just north of the Minnesota River. This location has been hopping with shorebirds over the past few weeks, and thus we figured if we could find a nice place to set up the blind we might get some cool shots of several species.

Finding the right place was a bit difficult. While the mudflats looked solid enough to walk on, we soon found out that they were a bit soggier than expected. In fact, the closer we got to the water the more we sank in. But we wanted to get as close to the edge as possible in hopes of getting close to the birds, so we had to compromise: shoes sunk in the mud but close enough to get good shots.

We then set up the blind and situated ourselves within the cozy two-person tent (affectionately nicknamed the "clam," see photo below). I say cozy because we also had all our gear inside (scope, cameras, tripods) so as to look as natural as possible to the wildlife on the outside.

As we waited for the birds to settle down following the arrival of the new bump in their landscape, I noticed a kettle of American White Pelicans circling overhead, perhaps beginning to stage in larger numbers prior to their fall migration.

As the pelicans passed overhead, the shorebirds became less nervous. While the larger shorebirds (Greater and Lesser Yellowlegs, Stilt Sandpipers) stayed farther out in the deeper water, the smaller Least, Semipalmated, and Baird's Sandpipers ("peeps," as they are called by birders), foraged on the mudflats well within the photographic ranges of our cameras. We ended up getting decent photos of these three species as well as the larger Pectoral Sandpipers and Killdeer.

But which species is which? See if you can match the photos to the proper species. Answers next blog post.

Sewage Ponds Revisited

2008-08-15T15:32:00.009-05:00

There's one characteristic of sewage ponds that I failed to mention previously: their inaccessibility.

The above photo shows what confronts birders at most of Minnesota's sewage ponds. These ponds usually belong to a city, and the city usually decides to keep people out with barbed wire fences.

This presents birders with two options: (1) look from outside the fence and obey the "No Trespassing" sign, or (2) climb/jump/hurdle over the fence and disregard the sign. The first option is sometimes the only one if the fence looks impossible to penetrate, and it is the legal option, but it means that you're restricted to a view from behind the fence, and there could be shorebirds in places that you can't see. The second option is the risky one, as entering a pond with a posted "No Trespassing" sign is generally illegal, but it also provides you with the best views of the ponds and thus you are less likely to miss something. Sometimes curious people will approach you even if you're looking from outside the fence. But when I tell people what I'm doing, they usually move on (after giving me a funny look).

It's when you're inside the fence that things can get interesting. First, getting over a barbed wire fence is always dangerous; I've been cut more than once doing this. Second, if someone (a non-birder) sees you walking around the ponds, they can become hostile ("What do you think you're doing here?" "Who gave you permission to do that?") or even call the local law enforcement. I know birders who have been caught "on the other side of the fence" by sheriffs who threatened them with jail time. The most hostility I can remember occurred at the Luverne sewage ponds in the southwest corner of the state when a disgruntled farmer drove up to me and a couple others and told us to "get the hell out of here." No questions asked.

Other than that I've been pretty lucky and haven't had too many negative run-ins. In fact, some of them have been very positive. Two years ago some friends and I were walking around the Lake Lillian sewage ponds in Kandiyohi County when a farmer approached us in his pickup truck. Fearing he was a sheriff, we confronted him and tried our best to explain (with courtesy) what we were doing. We quickly learned that this man was a local farmer who came there simply to walk his dog and watch the birds. After about a 30-minute lecture on the history of his family and their farm, he gave us a few fresh water bottles made by his company (ever heard of Kandiyohi bottled water?).

But I think negative run-ins have increased since 9/11; in fact, after 9/11 one of the very best sewage ponds in the state, the Blue Lake ponds in Shakopee (just east of Valleyfair), was closed to birders. These ponds do not freeze during the winter, and subsequently attract hundreds of ducks of several species (including a few rare ones over the years). The owners of the sewage ponds sited heightened national security as the reason for closing them to visitors, but why a terrorist would want to bomb a sewage pond is beyond me.

Some sewage ponds actually welcome visitors; the Sleepy Eye sewage ponds in Brown County are among these. The owners of such ponds are usually familiar with birders and have no problem with visitors walking around the ponds. Other ponds are open to waterfowl hunters, and virtually any place open to hunters is also open to birders (just make sure you wear blaze orange). Still other ponds share land with compost sites, and are thus open to public dumping, which makes them very accessible to birders.

But the best sewage ponds are located in southern states, such as Texas and Arizona. These ponds look more like wildlife refuges than municipal water treatment plants, and indeed there are often signs and sometimes footpaths and boardwalks traversing the wetlands, welcoming wildlife observers. Not only do these ponds serve as excellent birding spots, but they also create decent nesting habitat for many bird species.

I'm still waiting for such a pond to appear in Minnesota. In the meantime I'll try my best not to get arrested.

Of Shorebirds, Sod Farms, and Sewage Ponds

2008-08-09T19:49:00.011-05:00

Early August is the time that Minnesota birders go crazy for shorebirds. Plovers. Avocets. Sandpipers. Dowitchers. Phalaropes. Very few of these birds breed in the state, and thus it is only during their spring and fall migrations that we get to see them. During spring migration, there is not always a whole lot of suitable habitat available due to most of Minnesota's wetlands being filled with snowmelt and rainwater. However, by the fall these same areas have dried up somewhat, revealing mudflats and sometimes extensive areas of shallow water, which is the habitat that migrating shorebirds love. And early August seems to be the time when the biggest number and variety of shorebirds can be found.

But there are also two "unnatural" habitats to which birders seeking shorebirds flock: sod farms and sewage ponds. Both are manmade, and both for some reason attract just as many or even more shorebirds than their natural counterpart.

Today my friend Chad Gustafson and I visited all three habitats. We began at a DNR Wildlife Management Area about 15 minutes west of St. Peter. There are two "ponds" of shallow water here that have been attracting shorebirds since early July (the same wetlands that may have attracted a Ruff, if you refer to one of my earlier posts). I was at this spot earlier in the week and found 12 species of shorebirds with over 100 individuals present; today, however, the pond that had been good was mostly dried up, resulting in a decreased variety of shorebirds. We found more at the second of the two ponds, including this very approachable Least Sandpiper.

Later in the day we checked out the Sleepy Eye sewage ponds in Brown County. These are some of Minnesota's best sewage ponds as far as birding goes (the smell, on the other hand, could be a bit better). There were probably around 100 shorebirds lining the rocky edge of the front ponds, but most of them appeared to be Lesser Yellowlegs with a few other species mixed in. We spent a good amount of time photographing this rather sociable yellowlegs. As we photographed this bird, it was joined by a Stilt Sandpiper. Notice the subtle but distinct differences between the two (such as the Stilt's longer and slightly decurved bill).

One of our last stops of the day was at a sod farm east of the town of Mapleton in southern Blue Earth County (about 20 minutes south of Mankato). Why sod farms you ask? While there is generally no standing water or mud present, these dry grassy fields are what attracts Buff-breasted Sandpipers. Perhaps the short grass reminds them of their arctic breeding grounds. Or maybe it provides them with just the right type of invertebrate munchies. Whatever the reason for this affinity, the sandpipers are regularly found at these sod farms year after year. What is different about these birds is that they take a different spring migration route that takes them west of Minnesota, which means that birders only get to see them in the state in the fall. And by mid-September, most of them have already passed through. So you can see why they are such a big deal.

A few days ago I found two Buffies at this location. Today, unfortunately, there were only Killdeer present here (another shorebird that loves sod farms, but one that is found in just about every other habitat as well).

But the search for shorebirds is just beginning; tomorrow I'll be out most of the day with Chad and some more birding friends, and we'll most likely be going much farther west than Sleepy Eye. Who knows what we'll find--a Marbled Godwit? Piping Plover? Black-necked Stilt?

Let the games begin.

Birdman Returns

2008-08-06T20:33:00.003-05:00

Guess who's back. Back again. Birdman's back. Tell a friend.

Back in St. Peter, that is. After graduating from Gustavus Adolphus College on June 1, here I am living in my new apartment in St. Peter two months later. I've been hired as the college's Naturalist and Greenhouse Manager, beginning work on August 18. This is a very exciting time for me, and I'm very much looking forward to working at the college and being in a position in which I can share my knowledge and passion with others.

And I am certainly no stranger to the birding in this part of the state. Indeed, during my four years at Gustavus I became very familiar with the distribution of birds in Nicollet, Le Sueur, Blue Earth, and Sibley counties; my county lists for these four are all over 200 species.

But just because I have become a local expert doesn't mean that I will be bored with the birds of south-central Minnesota. If anything, I've fallen in love with the area and its birds, and I'm pumped to continue my adventures at some of my now-favorite birding locations such as Rush River Park in Sibley County and the Swan Lake wetland complex in Nicollet County. Additionally, I have seen my share of "rare" species here. The following is a list of such birds I've observed in the above four counties over the past four years, with an asterisk denoting species seen on the Gustavus campus itself.

Ross's Goose
Clark's Grebe
Snowy Egret
Cattle Egret
White-faced Ibis
Northern Goshawk*
Golden Eagle*
Common Moorhen
Pomarine Jaeger
Eurasian Collared-Dove
Snowy Owl
Long-eared Owl
Northern Saw-whet Owl
Loggerhead Shrike
Bell's Vireo
Townsend's Solitaire
Northern Mockingbird*
Louisiana Waterthrush
Yellow-breasted Chat
Summer Tanager
Henslow's Sparrow
Nelson's Sharp-tailed Sparrow
Red Crossbill*

I'm hoping to add to this list very soon, but I'm also happy to once again see the local residents, such as the breeding Cerulean Warblers at Seven Mile Creek and both Eastern and Western Meadowlarks at the Kasota Prairie. While it's fun to keep searching for rare birds, I find it's the more common ones that you get to know really well, that you know will be there year after year, that give you a sense of home.

Right now I can hear the Common Nighthawks outside my apartment building. I'm home.

A Ruff Chase

2008-07-23T22:12:00.017-05:00

No, I have not committed a spelling error. There is indeed a bird called a Ruff; it is a shorebird that looks like a large sandpiper.

This morning while still asleep I received a call from a Mankato birding friend about a report of a female Ruff (a female is called a Reeve, actually) in a flooded field about 12 miles west of St. Peter in Nicollet County. I have only seen one Ruff before, and it was around this time four years ago in Lac Qui Parle County in western Minnesota. So naturally I was interested in chasing this morning's bird.

Which brings me to the topic of this post: chasing. To "chase" a bird means to attempt to see it or refind it after it has been initially found by another birder. Sometimes a chase means driving to a lake 30 minutes away in Burnsville to see a Pacific Loon. Other times a chase means driving 5 hours to see a Black-headed Grosbeak coming to a feeder in Marshall County in northwest MN.

Not all birders chase. In fact, the majority probably don't. But for those birders who keep lists (I'm one of them), chasing is essential to adding to those lists. For example: I've seen all 312 regularly occurring species in MN (birds that are present at least nine out of ten years). Yet the total number of species I have seen in MN is 356 (this is my state list total). That means 44 of the species on my list are either casual (seen between three and eight out of ten years...the Ruff is one of these) or accidental (seen less than three out of ten years). Some of these species I have found on my own (such as a Scissor-tailed Flycatcher in Two Harbors in May 2003, a casual species). Most of these, however, I have added through chasing.

Chasing is always a gamble. It is never assured that a bird will stay at the same location in which it was first found. Birds can fly, after all, which means that a bird can fly away before you get there. The sooner one can chase, the better chance one has of seeing a bird before it leaves an area, but even then it is no guarantee. I have chased and seen some birds more than a week after they were initially found. I have also chased birds not more than fifteen minutes from my house as soon as I heard about them only to find them recently departed. So chasing is risky; sometimes you see a bird, and sometimes you don't. But the more you chase, the more chances you give yourself for success.

Today's chase was unfortunately unsuccessful. I called a few other birders about the sighting, and two of them met me at the flooded field around noon. There were several Killdeer, Lesser Yellowlegs, Stilt Sandpipers, Least Sandpipers, and a single Wilson's Phalarope present, but we couldn't pick out anything that looked like a Ruff. After about 45 minutes of scanning the wetland with our scopes, we gave up the chase. Thus we drove an hour and a half southwest of the cities only to see a flooded field and some common shorebirds.

But that's the nature of chasing. The only guarantee is that we definitely wouldn't see it if we didn't go. It could have been there. This time it wasn't. My guess is that the person who initially reported the bird misidentified a Lesser Yellowlegs as a Ruff.

Or maybe it flew off before we got there.

County Listing

2008-07-19T22:53:00.005-05:00

There are 87 counties in Minnesota. I keep a list of the birds I have observed in each of them. This means I have 87 county lists.

I have spent more time birding in some counties than in others. For instance, I have been living in Carver County for most of my life, and have thus spent more time birding in this county than any other; Carver County is my highest county list at 253 species. Clearwater County, on the other hand, is one of my lowest county lists; I've only driven through this county once, and therefore have 2 species on my Clearwater County list.

County listing is simply a game that some birders choose to play. It might seem that there is no value to the game other than trying to see more and more species in a given county. However, I have found that county listing enriches my passion for birds for several reasons.

First, in visiting all of the state's counties, one gets to see a wide variety of both natural and human landscapes. From the prairies of Rock County in the southwest to the boreal forests of Cook County in the northeast, Minnesota is characterized by a great diversity of natural habitat. Each county has something unique about its environment, whether it be a large grassland expanse, an extensive wetland complex, or a mix of different habitats. To the hobby of birding, this means that no two counties are the same; the makeup of bird species found in one county will never be identical to the makeup of that of another county. In terms of human landscapes, Minnesota has both the metropolis of the Twin Cities as well as the small farming communities of a few hundred people. Throughout my birding travels, I have enjoyed parts of each culture; while many would still consider me a "city boy," one of my favorite birding memories is of watching the local stock car races in the small town of Hallock in Kittson County in the extreme northwest corner of the state (after a long day of birding).

Second, in birding different counties, one becomes an expert in recognizing the connection between certain species and certain habitats. For example, if I find a Henslow's Sparrow in Scott County in a grassland dominated by brome-type grass, I should be looking for the same habitat in Carver County if I wanted to find a Henslow's Sparrow there. Lark Sparrows are easy to find in Nicollet County near gravel pits; if I wanted to find one in Blue Earth County, I should therefore begin by finding a gravel pit. In understanding these connections, I am able to go to a given habitat in any of the state's 87 counties and have some sort of idea of what species I should expect to find there. And as stated earlier, no two counties are the same, which keeps things interesting.

Third, in focusing on one county more than another county, one becomes an expert on the distribution of birds in that county. Having birded a particular county's various locations, one gets to know both where and when to find a particular species. Thus if someone asks me where he or she might find an American Bittern in Carver County, I can tell them to go check out the north side of Tiger Lake in late May.

Fourth and finally, county listing actually benefits science. In reporting the birds one finds in a given county to Minnesota's online database of sightings, the distribution of birds in the state becomes better understood. This is particularly important in counties that aren't birded as much as other counties; for example, most birders knew about the state's only regular location for breeding Chestnut-collared Longspurs in Clay County, but were surprised to learn that a second breeding location for this declining species was discovered in Pipestone County in 2006.

Relatively few birders have visited all of Minnesota's 87 counties. Even fewer still keep lists of the birds they find in each county. Is there an ultimate goal to the game? Maybe. Right now I'm trying to see at least 50 species in each county; only 9 counties remain in which I have seen less than 50 species (see image below). Out of the 87 total counties, there are 9 counties in which I have seen over 200 species. I like trying to reach the 200 mark in a county, but that milestone takes time, at least a couple years of intense year-round birding. But I've already got 9, so that means only 78 to go.

Birding in Under-birded Counties

2008-07-15T14:47:00.011-05:00

This past Sunday and Monday I went birding with my good friends John and Chris Hockema from Rochester. We wanted to go birding in counties where we had done very little exploring in the past, and where few other birders regularly visit, so we decided on Chisago, Pine, Kanabec, and Isanti counties (pretty much east and north of the Twin Cities). My energy level has been increasing substantially since the first week of mono, so we did do a little bit of hiking, but not too much.

Our most notable find on Sunday came early as we discovered a family group of six Common Ravens in southern Chisago County along Hwy. 95 between Stillwater and Taylor's Falls. These birds are generally found much farther north, especially in summer. Here's a photo of one of the birds; notice the wedge-shaped tail, which helps distinguish ravens from American Crows.

We later met up with two more birders, Jim Otto and Jerry Bonkoski (Jerry being a past president of the Minnesota Ornithologists' Union), and birded our way up to St. Croix State Park. The wind was howling by noon, which made it very difficult to hear birds; thus the majority of our birding was done simply by driving around and trying to spot different species. At a shallow wetland in Chisago County near Wild River State Park we found 5 species of shorebirds, signaling the start of their fall migration (which begins as early as July 4!).

At St. Croix State Park, we drove the main auto tour road and quickly found ourselves in the wake of a blowdown event that probably occurred within the past two previous days. Large trees were literally snapped in half, as the photo shows. Some of these trees were hanging over the road, which made us quite nervous as we drove under them (I don't think my Corolla would stand much chance against a pine with a two-foot diameter).

The birding at the park was very dull, probably because it was mid-afternoon, and mid-July, and windy (all conditions working against us). But we did come across an interesting pine grassland in the park, which harbored both an intriguing mix of species (Eastern Towhee and Brown Creeper included) and a large population of wood ticks. As we listened for birds, I gave everyone a (probably unwanted) lesson on how to distinguish between male and female wood ticks.

Jim and Jerry departed us after leaving the park, so John, Chris, and I headed north toward Sandstone and then west toward Mora. We found some interesting species along the way, including this beautiful Eastern Meadowlark.

Night in Mora was spent at the AmericInn, which was very comfortable and not too crowded on a Sunday night. The next morning we were up at 6:00 AM, and half an hour later we were driving down a bog road in the northwestern corner of Kanabec County. Sandhill Cranes were common here, but a few surprises included Red-headed Woodpecker, Barred Owl, and a Chestnut-sided Warbler still singing.

Just before entering Isanti County, we came across a pair of cranes dancing their spring courtship dance. I had never witnessed this before in person; it was very cool. I'll take the crane dance any day over the Soulja Boy dance.

Isanti County proved interesting as well; good finds around the county included Pine Warbler (near the southern extent of its range), Wood Thrush, Red-shouldered Hawk, and both Sora and Virginia Rails. Listening for birds was much easier than it had been on the day before, as on Monday there was very little wind.

We ended our two-day trip with a total of 107 species. Pretty good for mid-July, considering that the breeding birds have quieted down and migration has yet to begin for most species. I'll end with a photo of me and Chris Hockema standing with our birding beverages of choice outside a gas station in some small Isanti town whose name I can't remember. For me, at least when I'm birding with the Hockemas, it's got to be Fierce Gatorade. It has something to do with karma.

Passion/Obsession

2008-07-12T00:01:00.008-05:00

I'm not exactly sure what the distinction is between the above terms. Am I passionate about birds, or am I obsessed with birds? My answer: yes.

And so here I am, still awake after midnight, recovering from mono, creating a new blog about birding. Not often enough do I get the chance to share my hobby with others (especially non-birders), and thus hopefully this blog will allow me to do so. What do I want you to gain from reading it? I want you to understand why I do what I do. Why I sometimes get up at ungodly hours of the morning to listen for owls. Why I drive hours from my house to see a single bird frequenting a feeder. Why I strictly adhere to county lines.

Another title for this blog could be "Diary of a MN Birder," because that's essentially what it is. But for me, birding is an adventure. Each new day brings a surprise, something unexpected, something rare. And sometimes birding isn't just about birds; indeed, like everything else in life, there is great drama, suspense, and (most often) humor inherent in the hobby.

The tricky part is going to be documenting the hobby. I document bird sightings all the time; if I find a rare bird, I document it with photographs or field notes, and then a committee votes on the validity of the sighting based on that documentation. Things like tertials, gonydeal angles, and third-winter plumage are important to note. But in documenting birding itself, I'm not just looking at birds; I'm looking at birders too. How we relate to the birds we're observing. How we interact with each other. How we view non-birders (and how non-birders view us). I'll try to take lots of photos, but I'm no expert when it comes to photographing birds. You might see more pictures of people and places, but we'll see.

So in pondering the question of this being a passion or an obsession, I guess it doesn't really matter what you call it. It's what I do, and it's what I've always enjoyed doing. But most of you already know that, which is why you affectionately call me Birdman.