Listing Through Life

icterus (jaundice) bullockii (given in 1827 by William Swainson, British ornithologist for William Bullock, English traveler and proprietor of Bullock’s Museum in London who collected the bird near Mexico City)

Tuesday, May 8, 2001 — 7:27 am

San Diego, California — San Diego River — by Route 163 bridge

I was in San Diego for three nights, but my body never adjusted to Pacific time. I woke up this (and every) morning at 5:00.  My first session didn’t begin until 9:00. I stayed in bed for a while, then showered and dressed, wandered into the nearby mall for a breakfast bagel, and still had over an hour to kill.

I grabbed my binoculars and walked across the street from the hotel to the bike path along the San Diego River. The river in this area has been restored to a natural appearance, with reeds and trees along the shore. The river is actually out of sight from the path most of the way due to the thickness of the vegetation. A row of condominiums backs up against the path on the outer side of the path.

I heard a loud bird song coming from a tree next to the last condo near where the path stops and the river cuts under the highway bridge. I soon spotted a vibrant orange Bullock’s Oriole. It flew off over the road toward the hotel soon after I spotted it. I hung around the area for another half hour, and saw the bird three more times, once in the original tree and twice in trees closer to the river.

On Wednesday morning, I walked along the river again while waiting for the session to begin. This time I saw two males in a tree right along the river. They were about six inches apart, facing each other and chattering loudly. I got a brief look at another bird that I’m pretty sure was a female.

sterna (tern) elegans (elegant)

Monday, May 7, 2001 — 10:20 am

San Diego, California — Mission Bay Park — San Diego River

On Sunday, as we drove to Point Loma, we crossed the San Diego River about half a mile from the Pacific Ocean. I saw several mudflats in the channel, all covered with birds, the most prominent of which were Brown Pelicans. That view, along with the recommendation of one of the San Diego birders who e-mailed me, convinced me to take a closer look.

There weren’t many birds on the flats this morning, chiefly because of the many people and dogs running around on the shore and in the water on the other side of the river. A few birds were clustered on the easternmost flat, so I walked along the shore to get the sun at my back. There were six or eight Forster’s Terns on a small flat with a few Sanderlings. Two Marbled Godwits and a Willet were standing nearby in shallow water. Many Least Terns flew around and landed on a larger flat nearby.

Across the way, a Whimbrel stood right next to a guy who was probing in the mud, perhaps for clams or something. I saw three terns fly east along the channel. They looked larger than the Forster’s, and their bills were more slender than a Caspian’s. I watched as they circled around and landed in the water between the two flats.

When I had convinced myself that they were Elegant Terns, I noticed a fourth one that had landed on the small mud flat just upriver. All four were standing, facing west into the breeze and toward the ocean. After I watched them for a while, two black dogs came running through the shallow water and scared them off. The terns disappeared. The shorebirds circled around and tried several times to land on the larger flat, but the dogs kept running them off.

I headed back to the hotel to be there in time for lunch.

sayornis (for Thomas Say, American entomologist who accompanied Stephen Long on his 19th-century expedition to the Rocky Mountains) saya (ditto)

Monday, May 7, 2001 — 8:59 am

Imperial Beach, California — Tijuana Beach National Wildlife Refuge

I still had two and a half hours before I had to be back at the hotel. I drove over a few blocks to see if I could find a place on the other side of the marsh and discovered a visitor center. I strolled out on a trail through a field. On one side was a strip of brush and flowers, on the other a mudflat along one of the backwater channels of the river.

I got about 100 yards out on this trail when I noticed a woman in a tie-die T-shirt doing yoga on a bench up ahead. She was obviously communing deeply with the morning sun. I didn’t want to disturb her, so I stopped and looked around. I noticed a flycatcher perched motionlessly on top of a bush. I thought it was probably a Western Kingbird, but its tail was down in the bush out of sight. I stood and waited for it to move. Ten minutes later, I was still waiting. I was distracted by another flycatcher flitting bush to bush about 50 yards away. It was often out of sight behind the foliage. I knew it was a phoebe by its posture and tail-wagging, and I thought it was a Say’s by what I could see of its color.

And this is where it gets a bit strange. This lifer sighting was unique in one way. It’s the only time in my life I’ve seen a lifer when I didn’t realize I was seeing a lifer. I thought for sure I’d seen a Say’s Phoebe in Arizona in 1984. It wasn’t until I got home on Thursday that I found out this was my first.

When I looked back for the kingbird, it was gone. I started walking back toward the car. I looked back over my shoulder a minute later in time to see the kingbird chasing the phoebe. They both landed on the wire fence along the trail, then took off again. I got good looks at both of them as they flitted through the brush. I soon left the kingbird behind, but the phoebe kept pace with me and was soon joined by another.

When I got back to the visitor center, they were still around. They flew up under the eaves of a maintenance shed near the parking lot. I assume they had a nest there, but the area was restricted. The best look I got was when one perched on a sign about 20 feet away.

I saw another one on Tuesday. It flew out from under the eaves of the washroom by the lake at Mission Trail Regional Park and landed on the roof right in front of me.

larus (ravenous seabird) heermanni (given in 1852 by John Cassin for Dr. Adolphus Heermann, mid-19th century field collector of birds and their eggs in California)

Monday, May 7, 2001 — 8:10 am

Imperial Beach, California — Tijuana Beach National Wildlife Refuge — Pacific Ocean

After seeing the Snowy Plovers, I continued down the beach to the river mouth. By this time, I had figured out that the time to visit Tijuana Slough was winter or early spring. There weren’t nearly the number of birds around that I expected. A flock of Brown Pelicans and Western Gulls were on the far bank. A few Black-bellied Plovers and Snowy Egrets wandered around. An American Avocet flew up the channel and a variety of terns coursed over the water.

I stood near the bank of the river about 40 yards in from the ocean and tried not to breath deeply. Everything in front of me — river, flats, marsh — was muddy or scrubby. It wasn’t an attractive area. I had planned on spending a few hours here, but I’d already seen everything there was to see. I headed back up the beach toward my car.

I was walking back up the beach when this Heermann’s Gull flew past. It was over the ocean, perhaps 20 yards from the beach and five feet above the waves. It continued in steady flight to the north until it disappeared.

charadrius (plover) alexandrinus (Alexandria, Egypt)

Monday, May 7, 2001 — 7:22 am

Imperial Beach, California — Tijuana Beach National Wildlife Refuge

This was a strange morning. I didn’t have to be anywhere for the convention until noon, and my coworkers didn’t want to use the car so, of course, I went birding. I drove south to Imperial Beach and parked in front of the southernmost house on the California Coast. The refuge consisted of a flat field covered with sand and low scrub and bisected by muddy channels filled with muddy, smelly water. The Pacific Ocean beach was separated from this field by a long ridge of rocks about four feet high put there, I presume, to protect the marsh. A fence ran along the top of this ridge with frequent signs warning that the area beyond was off limits to protect nesting Snowy Plovers and Least Terns. There was another sign saying that the water was highly contaminated and all contact with it should be avoided. I wasn’t surprised. The place reeked. The Tijuana River, which forms the marsh, empties out of Mexico, and the refuge itself is only a mile or two north of the border.

I walked over the ridge and began heading south along the beach. I had the entire beach to myself, which added to the strangeness. Being that close to the border, alone, surrounded by contaminated water in the fog along the Pacific Ocean was a bit out of my comfort zone. I wondered for a moment if I wanted to continue, but I scanned down the beach and saw several shorebirds. One of these birds turned out to be my first Whimbrel since 1980. There was also a Willet and a flock of Sanderlings. After a half mile or so, the ridge got lower, and I stepped up on it to look in the field beyond — avoiding the rotting seal carcass on the beach. Least Terns were everywhere, flitting and screaming over the beach and field.

About 100 yards from the mouth of the river, the area beyond the fence was more sandy with gaps between the clumps of brush. I scanned the ground carefully and soon saw a Snowy Plover standing next to a clump. It didn’t move for a minute or so, then walked off out of view. I started back down the beach and soon saw two more on my side of the fence. They were high up on the beach where the sand was dry, maybe 30 yards from the ocean. They ran along in typical stop-and-go plover fashion, making quick picks at the sand and keeping about 15 yards ahead of me. They were very small.