Listing Through Life

stercorarius (scavenger) longicaudus (from longus, long, and cauda, tail)

Friday, September 15, 2000 — 11:00 am

Chautauqua National Wildlife Refuge, Illinois

This bird was first reported on Monday along with a Pomarine Jaeger. I read the reports each day but didn’t think much about it until yesterday. Since both birds were still hanging around, I decide to go for it. Two lifers, both of them rare and hard to identify, seemed worth the effort. And effort it was. I left home at 6:30 a.m. and arrived at the refuge at 10:40. I parked at Eagle Bluff, where a levy extends all the way across the lake. This is the same place where I saw my lifer Marbled Godwit back in August.

A birder was standing in the parking lot, scanning the area. He said the Long-tailed Jaeger was being seen on the western end of the levy. The Pomarine hadn’t been seen all day. I started walking the three-quarters of a mile to the other side. About half way across, I came upon two birders in a pickup. They told me the Long-tailed was up ahead, near where a lady was standing. When I got within 30 yards of her, I set up my scope.

I immediately saw a gull-shaped bird standing on the gravel in one of the ruts about 20 feet in front of her. My first impression was of a dark bird with a silver head. The lady motioned me forward, and we looked and chatted for the next half hour. The jaeger paid no attention to us. It walked about slowly in the rut, sometimes away from us, sometimes toward us. Occasionally it wandered into the grass in the center of the road to snatch at grasshoppers. It caught a couple while I watched.

After a few minutes, the guys in the pickup drove up. They made sure I’d gotten a look, then informed us they had to drive by. I didn’t mind because I wanted to see the bird in flight. It wasn’t that easy. The bird didn’t want to move. It stood there while the truck pulled within three feet. Finally it flew up, but only to sail about 20 feet forward. The truck blocked my view. This happened about three times before the jaeger sailed out to the side. It coasted around the immediate area, rarely needing to flap in the stiff cross breeze. When the truck passed, it landed back where it had been. It spent most of the next half hour sitting on the gravel in the rut. We got within 25 feet, and there really wasn’t any need to get closer. We kept watching for the Pomarine. I spotted an immature Bald Eagle grab a huge fish (or turtle?) not far away and an adult eagle in a dead tree about 100 yards away. Two other birders came by and watched with us. The jaeger mostly sat in the same spot, often closing its eyes briefly. If it saw a grasshopper nearby, it stood up and ambled over to the spot. This sleep-feigning technique didn’t seem to work, but it kept trying. The lady walked closer, trying to flush it for a picture in flight. It finally flew, sailing down below the level of the road and alighting back on the road about 100 yards ahead.

We started back toward the parking lot, the lady and one of the other birders about 40 yards ahead. The other birder walked with me. He was a nice guy, but a bit goofy. We’d gone about 100 yards when he spotted a jaeger hovering over the road just in front of us. He got all excited and started yelling, “There it is, Ray. There’s your bird.”  I got excited too, since I figured he knew of what he spoke. It seemed browner than the bird I’d been looking at, but I couldn’t see any of the other field marks I was supposed to be seeing on a Pomarine. When I didn’t say anything, the other guy got suspicious too. It was the Long-tailed again. It looked browner, I imagine, because the sun was behind it at this point. For about five minutes, it sailed around the area. It would circle around on the south, downwind, brushy side of the levy at or below eye-level. When it got around to the road again, it would rise up and kite in the wind at six or eight feet above the road. After repeating this six or eight times, it sailed back to the area where I first saw it.

Later in the day, around 2:30 p.m., I went back to see if the Pomarine had showed up. There was nobody else around. I took my camera. The Long-tailed was in the same spot, still walking around snatching at grasshoppers. I walked to within 15 feet before it flew, landing again about 20 feet along the road. I did this twice, then stood. It immediately began wandering back in my direction. I had a four-hour drive ahead of me, so I left.

A guy I don’t know who often writes in to IBET gave a very detailed description of the bird on Wednesday. I printed this out and had it with me as I looked at the bird. I had plenty of time to check off the field marks one at a time. It was a smallish bird, maybe the size of a Rock Dove, but slender and stylish looking. I have to admit that if I saw it on the ground, there’s a good chance I would have passed it off as an immature gull. The barring and wing flashes probably would have caught my attention in flight.

calidris (speckled water bird) himantopus (from himanto, strap, and pous, foot)

Friday, August 25, 2000 — 11:10 am

McHenry County, Illinois — Moraine Hills State Park

The water in the marsh was very low. The section in front of the platform was largely mud flat, with pools and channels throughout. There were about 50 shorebirds in the area.

I set up my scope and began on the right, identifying each bird as I came to it. At least that was my plan. The first bird I saw made me pause. It was wading mid-thigh in a channel, probing rapidly with its bill. It moved around a lot, sometimes going belly deep. I thought immediately it was a Stilt Sandpiper because it had a very prominent white eye brow and a long, thin bill that dipped down at the end.

I wanted to compare its bill and leg length with the Pectoral Sandpipers and Lesser Yellowlegs feeding nearby. While I was doing this, something caused the entire group of birds to flush. They circled around the marsh once or twice, then landed again. I couldn’t find my bird. I wasn’t satisfied with the brief look I’d had. I checked out every bird in view, then walked up the trail about 100 yards to an opening that gives a view. The angle of the sun was wrong here, casting the birds as silhouettes, and they were further away.

I walked back to the platform and began scanning again. I finally found a likely-looking bird sleeping on a flat in the middle of a flock of Mallards. It was standing on one leg with its head tucked into its back feathers. It remained motionless for about five minutes until a duck wandered too close. It then began wandering around again. Two or three times it made short hop/flights of about three or four feet. Again the entire flock of shorebirds flushed in unison. I think it was the Pectoral Sandpipers that started these mass flushes. I saw the Stilt Sandpiper jerk its head up just before it took off.

When everything settled again, I restarted my search. For a brief moment, I thought I saw two Stilt Sandpipers standing next to each other on a mud flat, but very soon after I saw them, they flushed again. A few minutes later I found one wading in the section of water closest to me, about 40 yards away. I began taking notes between looks. There was a little haze that made it difficult to focus at high power, and the sun caused some glare, but I got pretty good looks. For a few minutes, the Stilt and a Pectoral were in my scope together, giving me a great chance for direct comparison.

Everything flushed again. Every time this happened, I looked for birds with white rumps that stood out from the black rumps of the Pectorals, but I couldn’t pick any out amidst the wheeling flock. The Pectorals disappeared for good. For a few minutes the only bird in view (except for scattered Solitary Sandpipers that didn’t always participate in the group activities) was a Lesser Yellowlegs, wading in the nearest pool. Then suddenly two more birds landed nearby — both Stilt Sandpipers. The three birds foraged together for about five minutes.  Although all three birds were feeding in three inches of water, their feeding styles were different. The Yellowlegs would make individual jabs while the Stilts would stick their bills into the water and jab them up and down rapidly without taking them out of the water.

About 50 minutes after I arrived, the two Stilt Sandpipers took off with the Lesser Yellowlegs and two other Yellowlegs that had been feeding in another area. The five birds circled the marsh a few times  then headed out toward the river. Three disappeared over the trees. Two others came back, but were soon too high to see any longer. I stayed another five minutes, but the only shorebird action was a few Killdeer and Solitary Sandpipers.

limosa (muddy) fedoa (old English name)

Friday, August 18, 2000 — 11:43 am

Chautauqua National Wildlife Refuge, Illinois

Chautauqua National Wildlife Refuge is known worldwide for its migrating shorebirds. Two friends and I made plans to go down together. We got to the refuge at 10:00. Platforms near the headquarters look out over the lake. The water level is kept low. Shorebirds were everywhere, but we were too far away to identify most of them.

We drove north through the pathetic town of Buzzville to the Eagle Bluff Access Area. There was a parking lot and a levy that extended all the way across the lake. To the south, there was hundreds of acres of mudflat with thousands of shorebirds everywhere. We identified Killdeer, Semipalmated Plover, Pectoral Sandpiper, and Lesser Yellowlegs. Another birder was there when we arrived. He was looking through his scope and called to us that he’d found a Marbled Godwit. We took turns looking through his scope. The godwit was huge, every bit as long as the Ring-billed Gulls and Blue-winged Teals that were feeding nearby and a lot taller. It was wading in a very shallow pool on the flats about 150 yards away. At that distance, I couldn’t see a lot of detail. Its huge, up-curving bill was obvious, but I couldn’t see the color. The body was light buffy-brown with darker markings on the back. I didn’t want to be rude, so I didn’t look long through the other scope. I found the bird in mine, but the view was worse.

We wandered up the levy, hoping to find the godwit again later with a better sun angle or closer viewing point. During the 45 minutes until we returned to the spot, I debated whether to count it. The only other bird it could have been was a Hudsonian Godwit, which has a white rump and white flashes on its wings. I hadn’t seen any white, but is the lack of a field mark a field mark?

I found the bird again. It had moved to the mud along a stretch of shallow open water. The light was a bit better, but it was further away. We drove a short way south along the shore to a turnaround almost directly across the channel from the godwit. Here we were within 100 yards. I could see the bird a lot better, although we were still too far away to see many details. It was wandering methodically along the edge of the open water, probing with its bill into the mud. Occasionally, the entire bill would disappear under the surface. I still hadn’t seen any white, but I wanted to see that there was no white, if you get my drift. Then it cooperated. It was facing away from me when it gave a little bound of about six feet. It opened its wings as it did this, and held them momentarily above its back as it landed. There was no white on the rump. The wing was long and light brown like the rest of the plumage with a dark brown square area on the leading edge near the bend of the wing. That clinched it. We packed up and went elsewhere to look for a place where we could get closer to the shorebirds. We never found one. We spent another five hours birding in the area, then drove back. I got home at 11:00 p.m., happy, but frustrated. Never before have I seen so many birds that I was unable to identify.

vermivora (from vermis, worm, and vorare, to devour) leucobronchialis (white throated)

Friday, May 26, 2000 — 9:20 am

Ringwood, Illinois – Glacial Park

I was walking the Deerpath trail between the kame and the wooded hill. I was dividing my attention between two Blue-winged Warblers that were singing and foraging in the brush and tangles and three Yellow-breasted Chats that were singing and chasing all over the area. They were more conspicuous than any Chats I’ve ever seen.

I saw a small bird dive into a tangle right along the trail as I approached. I could see branches moving around, but couldn’t see the bird. I pished and saw a small bird fly out past me and land in a small dead tree about 20 feet away. I looked at it with my binoculars and knew immediately what it was.

It looked very much like the picture in Peterson’s eastern field guide except that the yellow patch on the chest was brighter and a bit more extensive, perhaps the size of a penny. It was white below, except for that yellow spot. It had a yellow crown and yellow wing bars. The only black was the line through the eye. It was singing a song that had the same tone as the nearby Blue-winged Warblers, but a different pattern. The song consisted of a few jumbled buzzy notes, then a long buzzy trill.

About an hour later, I saw a Golden-winged Warbler singing in the thicket along the bike trail by Nippersink Creek.

I’ve been chasing down every Blue-winged Warbler I’ve heard this year, probably about 10 of them, in hopes of seeing a hybrid. I don’t know why, but I just had a feeling this was my year.