mjm@oliven.olivetti.com (Michael Mammoser) (09/06/89)
On Tuesday I called the Rare Bird Alert to record the weekly summary and find out what had been seen on the previous weekend. The problem with finding out on Tuesday what had been seen on the weekend is that if I wanted to see some vagrant, I would probably have to wait for the following weekend. Sometimes the wait can be excrutiating. Will the bird hang in there until the weekend? Will the work schedule allow me to take some time off? My schedule and the bird's aren't always in synch. Last year I lost the opportunity for a number of vagrants because of this very reason. Come Saturday and the birds were gone. Long-Toed Stint; gone. Spotted Redshank; gone. Bar-Tailed Godwit; gone. Sharp- Tailed Sandpiper; gone. At one point I wondered if I would ever see another vagrant. A couple of weeks ago I was faced with another decision when a Mongolian Plover hit the tape. This time I took the afternoon off on Wednesday and headed for Moss Landing. I spent the afternoon watching the bird with a group of other birders, until it suddenly disappeared late in the afternoon when no one was watching. We were talking and shooting the breeze for about 15 minutes, and when we turned back to look for the bird, it couldn't be found. It was not seen again. I was very glad that I didn't wait for Saturday. A week ago Tuesday the tape again rang out with magic words; a Bar-Tailed Godwit at Pescadero Marsh and a Little Gull at Pt. Reyes. I had no commitments for the Labor Day weekend so the air was filled with anticipation for the chase. Only the age-old question remained: would they stick around until the weekend? I eagerly kept track of their presence by calling the update tape. Thursday: godwit seen today but no mention of the gull. I prayed to the god of godwits; "Please make it blind so it can't leave". Friday: godwit seen today but still no gull. Again I prayed; "Please make its wings fall off". Saturday morning found me at Pescadero Marsh. Pescadero Creek finishes its trek to the ocean by flowing through a fairly large marsh and welling up into a small lagoon about 100 yards short of its target. I assume that the creek finishes its journey by seeping through the sand, for the two don't make contact unless it's high tide or the creek is running high. I walked around the shore of the lagoon studying every godwit I could find. It's funny how, under normal circumstances, a quick glance is all that's required to make a positive ID (it's just a Marbled Godwit). Now, however, every godwit with a slightly pale appearance, a little shorter legs, or a single feather out of line becomes the subject of the most intense scrutiny (just what the hell does this thing look like anyway). I continued past the lagoon and walked up the creek as far as the path allowed. A couple of Wandering Tattlers and Lesser Yellowlegs were of interest, but nothing that I had the guts to call a Bar-Tailed Godwit. As I walked back, I spotted a friend of mine on top of the bluff across the creek. He waved and shrugged his shoulders. I shrugged back and decided to walk up a dike to where it intersected the creek further upstream. After striking out up there, I figured that I would cross the bridge and join my friend on the other side. I could find no trail where I had seen him and started struggling through the coyote bushes. This lasted for a couple hundred yards when, sweating and covered with sticky weed seeds, I turned back and headed for the beach. I checked out what few shorebirds were there and then decided to give the lagoon another try. When I got to the bridge, I met a couple who were coming across it to the lagoon. They had found a trail on the other side that led to where my friend and a number of other people had been watching the godwit for the last hour! It had flown from there in the direction of the lagoon. I joined them and we hurried down to the lagoon, along its shore, and up the creek behind it. As we rounded a bend in the creek, a flock of godwits took off and flew back towards where the others were. The guy that I was with said that he had seen the Bar-Tailed in the flock. I looked off across the creek into the marsh and could see my friend standing there waving and pointing to a spot below him that was out of my sight. This was exasperating. It was probably over a half mile to walk back along the lagoon, over the bridge, down the highway to a road, and down the trail to where they were. But, if it had to be done, then it just had to be done. I was only worried that by the time we got over there, it might fly back to the lagoon. As we were heading along the shore of the lagoon, a couple of godwits flew by, and the same guy said that he again saw the Bar-Tailed among them. They had flown to the north, completely away from the area that we were searching. Just as I was resigning myself to running after them, a couple more godwits flew into the lagoon from the marsh. I knew instantly that the search was over. As the godwits landed about 40 ft. in front of us and started feeding, the Bar-Tailed stood out like a sore thumb. I don't know what this other guy had seen flying off to the north (probably his imagination), but I'm sure glad that I didn't go chasing after it. For a full five minutes we savored the scope-filling view before the bird flew off for the beach, where it spent the next couple of hours. That evening I wondered what to do on Sunday and called the update tape to see what was around. Lo and behold, miracle of miracles! The Little Gull was seen again that day at Pt. Reyes! The next morning I was off and running again. This chase was a great deal easier than the day before. A half mile walk up Drake's beach brought me to Horseshoe Pond; a large U-shaped pool of water that was literally covered with Red-Necked Phalaropes. As I stood on the dike with about half a dozen other people scoping out the pond, the gull showed up in about a half hour and spent the next hour or more flitting or sitting on the water right in front of us. It was still there when I left. Pt. Reyes was pretty dead this day, for a place that can be really jumping during migration. However, I did watch a wingless King Eider (it was molting), added an Eastern Kingbird to my state list, and found the largest flock of Baird's Sandpipers that I had ever seen, 10 (this is a large flock for a bird that is a rare migrant here). As I write this, I realize that it is Tuesday night. This means that when I get home another weekly summary will be waiting for me on the Rare Bird Alert. I can't help but wonder where it will have me running off to next weekend; or, more importantly, whether the birds will run off before I do. Mike
jtn@steven.COM (jtn) (09/07/89)
Mike's article about chasing birds around in Pescadero marsh makes me remember one of the few aspects I liked about living in the Bay Area... I spent plenty of time slogging through Pescadero and Charleston Slough (even saw a long-eared owl there). I've been a little out of touch with the flying critters after moving up here, and I think one of the reasons is that I can't find a Rare Bird Alert for this area. Does anyone know of a Puget Sound RBA? Is there a national list of such things? Thanks, Mike for your article. I think the newsgroup needs more of that type of suspenseful material. Jim. -- >> Jim Newberry, Sierra Geophysics, Inc., PO 3886, Seattle, WA 98033 >> Phone: (206) 822-5200, uucp: ..!uw-beaver!sumax!ole!steven!jtn >> "Frets ain't nuthin but speed bumps on a banjo..." :-}
dune@cbnewsl.ATT.COM (Greg Pasquariello) (09/08/89)
In article <47610@oliveb.olivetti.com> mjm@oliven.olivetti.com (Michael Mammoser) writes: > > On Tuesday I called the Rare Bird Alert to record the weekly >summary and find out what had been seen on the previous weekend. The >problem with finding out on Tuesday what had been seen on the weekend >is that if I wanted to see some vagrant, I would probably have to wait >for the following weekend. Sometimes the wait can be excrutiating. Will [ good story deleted ] How are you doing percentage-wise with chasing vagrants. I am about 50%, of birds chased versus birds seen, and I consider that a tremendously good percentage. Mostly, it's been shear luck, and the fact that I have one reliable connection. Greg Pasquariello ...!att!picuxa!gpasq
john@nmtsun.nmt.edu (John Shipman) (09/08/89)
In article <85@steven.COM> jtn@steven.COM (jtn) writes: +--- | I've been a little out of touch...I can't find a Rare Bird Alert... +--- The statewide rare bird alert number for Washington is (206)526-8266. If anybody else needs to know about rare bird alerts, e-mail to me or post the request and I'll be glad to help. Or you could join the American Birding Association. Send $24/year (for individuals; $30 for families) to ABA, POB 6599, Colorado Springs, CO 80934. Their monthly publication ``Winging It'' has all the latest hot sightings and a page full of rare bird alert numbers. They also publish _Birding_ magazine, which has lots of articles on field identification, reviews of books and optics, etc. -- John Shipman/Zoological Data Processing/Socorro, New Mexico USENET: ucbvax!unmvax!nmtsun!john CSNET: john@nmtsun.nmt.edu ``A lesson from past over-machined societies...the devices themselves condition the users to employ each other the way they employ machines.'' --Frank Herbert
HF.GXS@forsythe.stanford.edu (Gail Smithson) (09/12/89)
Jim, I have a list of rare bird alert numbers for the U.S. The only phone number listed for Washington is (206)526-8266. I hope this is useful for you. Gail Smithson.
mjm@oliven.olivetti.com (Michael Mammoser) (09/14/89)
In article <1808@cbnewsl.ATT.COM>, dune@cbnewsl.ATT.COM (Greg Pasquariello) writes: > > How are you doing percentage-wise with chasing vagrants. I am about 50%, > of birds chased versus birds seen, and I consider that a tremendously good > percentage. Mostly, it's been shear luck, and the fact that I have one > reliable connection. After checking my notes, it seems that last season I got exactly 50% of the vagrants that I chased. I don't know if this is good or bad, because the season before I had 84%. So far this season I'm at 100%, or 4 for 4 (last weekend I got a Thick-Billed Murre at Monterey). The most worrisome aspect of the murre chase was whether I had change for the parking meter, as the bird was already staked out when I got there. It was about 50 or 60 yards offshore along the edge of the kelp beds. It was still in "summer" plumage and could be directly compared with both "summer" and "winter" plumaged Common Murres. The Sea Otters were also quite cute. Mike
gary@lll-lcc.UUCP (Mark R. Gary) (10/04/89)
If I missed it I'm sorry but would someone post the vagrant hotline numbers.
I am particularly interested in the San Francisco area number. Who runs
these hotlines?
I enjoy reading accounts of birding trips and favorite spots. Keep it up!
Thanks in advance,
Mark Gary
gary@lll-lcc.llnl.gov mjm@oliven.olivetti.com (Michael Mammoser) (10/05/89)
In article <2614@lll-lcc.UUCP>, gary@lll-lcc.UUCP (Mark R. Gary) writes: > > If I missed it I'm sorry but would someone post the vagrant hotline numbers. > I am particularly interested in the San Francisco area number. Who runs > these hotlines? The Northern California Rare Bird Alert is sponsored by the Golden Gate Audubon Society and covers the entire San Francisco Bay area. The number for the weekly summary is 415 528 0288 and is updated every Tuesday. For daily updates call 415 524 5592. Mike
sid@jato.Jpl.Nasa.Gov (Sid Johnson WB6VWH) (10/15/89)
The hot line for the Southern Cal area reported a Pileated woodpecker sighted near the entrance to JPL this week. Pasadena, La Canada area. This is the first sighting of a Pileated in this area that I am aware of, although I've only been birding about 5 years. Gad, I work at JPL and missed it! Thats a lifer for me too. Guess I start carrying the binocs to work. -Sid.
mjm@oliven.olivetti.com (Michael Mammoser) (01/23/91)
While attending the Santa Clara Valley Audubon Society membership meeting last Wednesday, a friend informed me that a Yellow Billed Loon had been found at the entrance to the Moss Landing Harbor on Monterey Bay. Also a Gray Catbird was seen at a place called Pajaro Dunes, a little north of the harbor. I needed the loon for my life list and the catbird for my state list, so I decided to go after them on Saturday. Early in the morning I arrived at Moss Landing Harbor. A small channel connects the harbor with Monterey Bay, each side of the channel bounded by a jetty that is about 30 yards long. I drove to the base of the south jetty and found a couple of other birders already there. Unfortunately, they hadn't found the loon, so I started to scope out the water outside the harbor mouth. There were plenty of birds foraging close in to shore: Surf Scoters, Western Grebes, Clark's Grebes, Red Necked Grebes, Horned Grebes, Common Murres, a horde of Red Throated Loons, a couple of Pacific Loons, and a handful of Common Loons. I checked the Commons over carefully, but couldn't find any that I could stretch into a Yellow Billed. Northern Fulmars skimmed low over the waves further out and a small flock of Bonaparte's Gulls foraged on the water, leap-frogging over each other as their prey moved along. After an hour or so, I decided to try the harbor itself. As I walked to a spot that overlooked the harbor, I was pleasantly surprised by an immature Peregrine Falcon flying by. The birds were surprised as well, but not as pleasantly as I. Some old pilings in the water were "piled" with gulls (Western, Glaucous Winged, Herring, Heermann's), cormorants (Double Crested, Brandt's, Pelagic), and a few Brown Pelicans. The water had the same birds as outside the harbor, plus Eared Grebes, Common Goldeneyes, Red Breasted Mergansers, and some Sanderlings poking around the edge. Still no loon, however. I returned to the harbor mouth and walked out to the end of the jetty, where a couple of birders had gathered. We spent some time talking and scanning the water. A Sea Otter floated on its back in the harbor channel, a rock sitting on its stomach, and a crab firmly grasped in its front paws. It alternated between smacking the crab on the rock and chewing on it. Finally, I spied a large loon just off the north jetty that seemed lighter in color, with a larger bill than the Commons. As I swung my scope towards it, however, it dove. I said nothing to the others; not being sure of the identification and not wanting to embarass myself if I was wrong. I scanned the water out in front of the jetty for what seemed like an eternity. When the bird surfaced, I tried again to get my scope on it; only to have it dive again. This happened a couple of times before it stayed up long enough to get a look through the scope. It was a brownish color, lighter than the Common Loons, and had a distinct pattern of dark barring on the back. The dark eye stood out on the pale face, and there was a dark spot on the side of the face behind the eye. The bill was longer than that of the Common Loons, light yellow in color, and had an upturned look to it. I yelled out that I had the bird; just as it dove again. Now, instead of directing the others to a bird sitting on the water, I had to direct them to a spot on the water where the bird had gone down. The loon was staying down for a long time, and I'm sure that they were beginning to doubt me (I would say "look about 30 yards out from the jetty". They would say "I see a Common Loon there". I would say "that's not it, it's still under water"). Then, as the bird resurfaced, it played the same game as before; diving again before they could get their glasses on it. However, the bird stayed here for some time and everyone finally got good looks at it (it eventually stopped diving and sat up on the water preening itself). I headed out for Pajaro Dunes, which is a housing subdivision near the mouth of the Pajaro River. The subdivision is fenced off and has a gate at the entrance with a small gatehouse. I stopped at the gatehouse and received permission to look for the catbird, which was being seen in the hedge near the gate. I only had to wait for a couple of minutes before the catbird jumped up onto the fence (I had been told that it was being very cooperative; for a catbird). It then flew into a group of cypress trees and started acting more like a typical catbird; staying out of sight and not moving. Having found the two birds that I was after, I figured that I would check out a couple of other vagrants that I had seen about three weeks before. One was an alleged White Wagtail that was spending its time at the Moon Glow Dairy, a dairy co-op that was situated along the edge of Elkhorn Slough. It was supposed to be found either at a diked-in pond along the slough or at a row of manure piles just outside the veal pens. As I pulled up to the manure piles, I spotted a friend, who informed me that a Rusty Blackbird had also been seen in with the flocks of blackbirds. As we talked, we watched a car come by driven by Guy McKaskie, followed by Shawneen Finnegan, and a little later Jon Dunn; a veritable who's who of west coast birders. We figured that this was good company to keep and joined them in a Rusty Blackbird hunt through the flocks of Starlings, Red Winged, Tricolored, and Brewer's Blackbirds; all to no avail. As we moved to a point that overlooks the slough, a Merlin made a low fly-by, scattering blackbirds; while three Sandhill Cranes circled overhead. The pond we were overlooking contained well over 1000 Green Winged Teal and a few Northern Pintail, but little else. However, someone in the group of people finally found the wagtail working along the edge of the water and we all trained our scopes on it. It was quite interesting listening to Jon Dunn and Guy McKaskie debate the field characteristics of this bird. Finally, they determined that it was an immature bird and could not be identified to species (White and Black Backed Wagtails look virtually alike as immatures). After this I, and almost all the others at the dairy, headed for Santa Cruz, where a Brambling has been hanging out at a vacant lot next to a small park. We kept watch on the dense undergrowth, trying to pick out the Brambling from the Hermit Thrushes, California Towhees, Bushtits, House Finches, White Crowned, and Golden Crowned Sparrows. After a couple of hours of this, I was getting ready to call it quits when Guy McKaskie went to check out a bird that had just flown into a tree. As he got into position, the bird flew and gave a goldfinch-like call. He yelled "there it is" and we watched as it flew down the draw at the back of the lot and out of sight. We all filed down a trail in the direction that the bird had gone until it ended at a small marsh, bordered on one side by a street with a house at the end and the other by a dense growth of pussy willows. Someone found the bird sitting in the pussy willows eating the willow buds and we spent the next half hour watching it from as little as 30-40 feet. It finally flew off over the houses, bringing my birding day to an end. It's always nice to be able to spend the day birding, but it's an extra special treat to find such a group of rarities in the same area to add some spice to the trip. Mike