Listing Through Life

melanitta (from melanos, black, and netta, duck) nigra (black)

Thursday, February 4, 1999 — 1:15 pm

Ozaukee County, Wisconsin — Virmond Park — Lake Michigan

I spent most of the day at Virmond Park looking for the Barrow’s Goldeneye and Surf Scoters that were reported on the Wisconsin hot line. The wind made it very cold and shook the scope a lot. I finally found a pair of Surf Scoters swimming about 150 yards out from the shore. I watched them for a while and kept looking for the Barrow’s.

Not too far away, I saw a indistinct brown duck about the size of the scaups, but lower to the water and skinnier. Its back was a uniform dull brown. Its face and fore-neck were pale tannish-white, with a dark brown cap and a dark brown nape that extended as a line on the back of the rounded head. It stood out some because of the face pattern, and because the head generally looked lighter than the back (except when it was facing directly away from me). The female scaup and goldeneyes in the area had heads that were darker than their backs. The thin bill and feet were brown. I thought immediately it might be a female Black Scoter, but it dove, and then I couldn’t find it again. I spent about 10 minutes looking for it without luck.

Another birder showed up and set up his scope next to me. I showed him the Surfs and he showed me a lone female White-winged in among the huge raft of Greater Scaups. He scanned for the Barrow’s, but I kept looking for my mystery duck. I finally found it a bit further to the north than I had seen it before. It was still on the outer edge of the huge raft. I watched it for twenty minutes or so, as it swam and dove. At one point, it passed within a few feet of the pair of Surf Scoters. When it dove, it stayed under about 15 seconds, and when it resurfaced, it would always come up further from where it went under (maybe up to 15 yards) than the Surf Scoters did. (They always seemed to come up almost in the same spot, for what that’s worth.)

I pointed it out to the other birder, and he agreed with my identification. I never did see the White-winged Scoter except through his scope. It gives me a strange pleasure that I saw all three scoters on the same day in the same place, but even more so that the two lifers were the two I found myself.

melanitta (from melanos, black, and netta, duck) perspicillata (conspicuous)

Thursday, February 4, 1999 — 9:05 am

Ozaukee County, Wisconsin — Virmond Park — Lake Michigan

I checked out the Wisconsin hot line and saw that the Barrow’s Goldeneye has been seen regularly at Virmond Park again this winter. Surf Scoters have also been seen there recently. That was enough for me. Surf Scoters are one of the birds on my target list.

I drove up on Interstate 43 and got there at 9:00 a.m. I immediately noticed it was windy. It wasn’t off the lake, but it had plenty of space to build up speed crossing the field behind me.

The lake below the 300-foot high bluff was coated with ducks. The vast majority of them were Greater Scaup, probably about 10,000 of them. There were maybe 500 Common Goldeneyes, further out than the scaup. I walked up and down the bluff, scanning for a Barrow’s Goldeneye and trying to find a place out of the wind. I was unsuccessful on both accounts. After an hour, I could no longer feel my fingers.

I drove the 15 miles or so up to Port Washington, supposedly a good place to see gulls. There wasn’t a gull in sight, and not much else. (I found out later a Black-legged Kittiwake was there the day before.) I was warm once again, so I drove back to Virmond Park.

It had gotten a bit warmer, or the wind had died a bit, so my discomfort level was slightly less. I walked along the bluff again, but didn’t see anything I hadn’t seen before. Besides the cold, the wind was also shaking my scope around a lot.  In frustration, I plopped it down in the lee of a not-very-large tree and leaned back against the trunk. I looked through the scope at whatever it happened to be pointing at and saw … a male Surf Scoter. A female was swimming next to it. A third bird that looked very similar to the female, but without any obvious markings on its head, was with them for part of the time. They were facing north, about 150 yards out, beyond most of the scaups and goldeneyes. They drifted for the first 15 minutes or so, then tucked their bills into their backs and slept. Later, they were swimming again and diving frequently, staying under about 20 seconds at a time.

The male was jet black, with a bright white spot on the back of the head and another round one the forehead. Its long bill was bright orange, with a white section close to the base. The slope of the bill continued to the top of the head in an uninterrupted line. Its legs were orange. I couldn’t see its eye, and the black part of the bill blended into the facial plumage. The female was duller brown. It also had a white patch on the back of the neck (starting below the dark cap and extending down almost to the back) and another round one on the cheek.

I kept looking for the Barrow’s Goldeneye (without luck), but checked back on the Surf Scoters from time to time. At around 1:00, another birder showed up. I told him about the scoters, and he set up his scope. A few minutes later, he said, “It’s a White-winged.” We switched scopes and he used mine to see the Surfs and I used his to see a lone female White-winged in among the scaups.

I never could find the White-winged with my (much inferior) scope, but the Surfs were still there when I left around 2:00.

asio (long-eared owl) otus (owl)

Friday, December 4, 1998 — 8:05 am

Du Page County, Illinois — Fermi National Accelerator Laboratory

This was unbelievably easy. The resident birder at Fermilab, has been reporting Long-eared Owls on his web site for the past few weeks. I’ve had lousy luck with owls and hesitated to take the trip. But lately, he’s also been reporting Greater White-fronted Geese, which I haven’t seen in Illinois in many years, so I decided I’d go.

Lake Law was carpeted with geese. I parked by the red barn and scanned the flock. There were several thousand Canada Geese and 24 Snow Geese. And two that I couldn’t quite make out through the damp haziness. I got out my scope and identified them as White-fronts. I’d been there about three minutes.

I put the scope away and walked the trail through the village pines looking for evidence of owls. The village pines cover an area of maybe two acres on the shore of Lake Law near the red barn. There are at least two species of trees in the grove, but none of them are very tall. I saw a few trees with whitewash on the trunk and lower branches. I walked slowly, scanning each tree, hopeful but not really expecting anything. And not knowing exactly what I was looking for.

I had walked all the way through the pines to where the trail opens into a large weedy field. I was about to turn about and begin quartering the area off the trail. In one of the last pines, I noticed a few white spots on the lower branches and followed the trunk upward. In another tree, behind that pine, and perhaps 25 yards from where I stood, I saw two silhouettes.

I knew immediately they were Long-eared Owls. They weren’t right up against the trunk, as the field guides had led me to expect, but sat on horizontal branches about a foot from the trunk and about 15 feet off the ground. They had the profile of Pringles Potato Chip cans with ears, they were that skinny. The one on the left was more exposed, and I concentrated on that one. It was facing away from me on the branch, but looking at me over its left shoulder. It’s ears looked about four inches long. They were dark with pale orange edges. It’s face was gray with orange wedges radiating out from the eyes. The eyes were bright yellow. It’s back was mottled gray, pale and brown, with orange spaces at the base of the primaries.

Once or twice it turned it’s head 180 degrees and looked away from me, but for the most part it just stared. Before I could turn my attention to the second one, I heard a slight commotion in one of the other pines and a third owl flushed, circled tightly, and disappeared into the pine branches behind my birds. It was immediately followed by two more. About four seconds later, my two birds took off and disappeared.

I didn’t want to flush them repeatedly, and I had gotten a diagnostic look, but I wasn’t satisfied. I went back the way I came for about 10 steps, then looked into the pines where the owls had headed. There was a dead tree in between, and one of the owls was sitting on an exposed branch, facing me, about 35 yards away.  Without my binoculars, it was difficult to make out because it blended into the background of dark pines so well.

The pupils of its eyes were tiny, making them look even more yellow than those of the first one. It also looked much larger. Perhaps it knew it was exposed and was trying to look intimidating. It puffed its feathers out, changing its profile from elongated to almost round. It looked much like a small Great Horned Owl in shape and coloration. Its breast was mottled dark and pale in quarter-sized blotches. Its belly was pale whitish/gray with bars and streaks that formed crosses. Its wings were long, hanging down below its tail. One of its tail feathers was out of alignment and stuck out behind. This feather was pale gray with darker barring. Its feet were large and feathered with pale orange.

For two minutes we watched each other. It would sit upright and puff out its feathers, then lean forward and down. It slowly began leaning toward the nearby pine branches, then suddenly took off and almost immediately disappeared. I heard a rustling and knew it had landed nearby. During its short flight, I could see that the wings were pale underneath and quite long in proportion to its length. It had the bullet-headed profile of all owls in flight.

I had gotten a great look and seen all the field marks that are mentioned in all the field guides, with the exception of the dark wrist-mark on the underside of the wing. But it was a much better view than I expected and I was happy. I left the owls alone and walked back. It was only twenty minutes since I had arrived at Fermilab and I’d already seen everything I was looking for. I felt like I should put forth a little effort, so I walked the trails through the fields between the lakes. I saw very little except a cock Ring-necked Pheasant in flight in the field behind the sparrow hedge. I was home by 10:45.

limosa (muddy) haemastica (blood color)

Thursday, October 15, 1998 — 1:20 pm

Du Page County, Illinois — Fermi National Accelerator Laboratory

I wasn’t planning on going to Fermilab today. I went birding this morning at Waukegan Beach. The wind was off the lake and there were no birds around except for gulls (including an adult Great Black-backed Gull). When I got home I found out that someone had reported a Hudsonian Godwit on IBET (Illinois Birders Exchanging Thoughts), the internet hot line.

Obviously, I decided to go. I got to Fermilab shortly after 1:00. I parked by the red barn and walked around the east side of Lake Law. About one-third of the way up the lake, there is a bar of softball size rocks that sticks out into the water. I saw a flock of ten smaller sandpipers fly low over the water and land on this bar. I set up my scope and there was the godwit. (The smaller sandpipers were Pectorals.  Four Killdeers and a Greater Yellowlegs were also in the immediate area.) The godwit was standing in shallow water, looking around, and preening some. It towered over the Killdeers and Pectorals and looked a bit larger and certainly stockier than the Yellowlegs. The bill was the first thing I noticed. It was immense, sticking out about eight inches (I’d estimate) with a definite upward curve. When I first saw the bird, I was about 75 yards away. It had its back to me. I saw it fluff up its wings and got a good look at the white rump and black tail. I moved about 15 yards closer and looked again. It had walked up onto the bar and was just standing there.

I took out my field guide to check the marks. When I looked up, the bird was gone. It simply disappeared. I walked closer and scanned the bar again. This didn’t take long. The bar was about 15 feet long and six feet wide. I spotted the godwit doing an impersonation of a rock. It had squatted down on its belly and tucked its bill into its back feathers. It was facing the shore and its gray breast (with a tinge of pink) was almost exactly the color of the rocks. The only thing that stuck out was a white stripe above the eye that was larger in front of the eye. It looked like the godwit was watching me. Its right eye (which was on the left side of its body because its head was all the way turned around) kept blinking shut. The eyelid was white. I looked at it for several minutes and took notes on its marks. It had a narrow dark eye stripe and a darker cap. The back feathers looked worn.  They were gray and blended together. The greater and medium coverts on the sides were a darker gray with buff edges, giving them a scaled look.

I walked around to where I could see the bird from the other side, but the look was the same. I couldn’t see the bill. I went back to my original position. All of a sudden, the Pectoral Sandpipers, which had wandered down the shore in my direction, flushed in a group, calling loudly. They circled over the bar, then landed next to the godwit. As they went over, the godwit looked around. The bill was pink/orange for the inner two-thirds and black at the tip. The bird didn’t look like it was going anywhere for a while, so I walked on to see what was on the flats where I saw the Long-billed Dowitchers last Friday (they were still there). After I had gone about 75 yards beyond the godwit, I looked back. It had gotten up and was standing in the water on the far side of the bar, rather hunched down and not doing anything. It made me suspect that its rock impersonation was a defense since it only assumed the position as I approached and then quit it as soon as I left.

I wandered around the area for an hour and a half, then went back to the bar. The godwit was gone. I scoped the lake and saw it at the south end. It was standing on a narrow bar of rocks that extends most of the way across the lake close to the southern end.  I was too far away to see anything, so I walked back up that way. When I got there, I couldn’t find it.  I suspect it was doing its rock trick again.

I headed back for my car. When I got to a point close to where I had originally seen it, I set up my scope and scanned the entire shore. I was looking back toward the south when I saw a bird take off. I followed it in my scope and soon confirmed that it was the godwit. It had long, dark, pointed wings that beat with full strokes. It headed over the water toward the northwest corner of the lake. As it banked to land on a narrow strip of mud along the shore, I again saw the white rump and black tail. I also saw a hint of a narrow white wing stripe.

I worked my way around to the shore by the pine grove. The bird was in belly-deep water off the shore. It probed with its bill, often dipping its entire head into the water. It moved rapidly, constantly walking, turning, and probing. I could see its actions well, but it was backlit so I couldn’t see colors. I watched it for about ten minutes. Five other birders were there by this time, looking at the bird. One of them walked around the shore and, when I had turned to identify some small birds in the pines behind me, must have flushed the godwit. I spotted it again directly across the bay from me, wading right next to a Great Egret.

A Ross’s Goose had also been reported at Fermilab this morning in the buffalo pen. I drove up there to look for it, but only saw approximately 600 Canada Geese and one blue-phase Snow Goose. I left for home. With my trips to Waukegan and Fermilab, I put in 200 miles today, but it got me a lifer and two other year birds (Great Black-backed Gull, Fox Sparrow) and put me over 200 birds for the year for the sixth time in the 20 years I’ve been birding. This year is special, however, because I’ve seen 200+ birds just in Wisconsin and Illinois.

ammodramus (from ammos, sand, and dramein, to run) nelsoni

Friday, October 9, 1998 — 8:30 am

Du Page County, Illinois — Fermi National Accelerator Laboratory

I went to Fermilab to see the Long-billed Dowitchers reported on the internet.  I spotted them almost as soon as I got there.  The report had also mentioned Nelson’s Sharp-tailed Sparrows earlier in the week.  They had been seen at the south end of Lake Law, close to where I saw the dowitchers. It looked promising.  Sparrows were everywhere (I saw nine species on the day).

There was a mud flat of about three acres at the south end of the lake.  Most of this was wet, black mud, but the extreme south end was weed covered.  One area was bordered on three sides by five-foot reeds.  I stood in this area and looked at every sparrow that popped into view.  I determined to stay for an hour.  It took about five minutes.  The first three or four birds I saw were Swamp Sparrows.  The next one was a Sharp-tail.

It was perched on a reed about four feet from the ground and about thirty feet from me.  I saw the orange face and knew I was in business.  It hopped around some, then settled on a reed that was bent sideways right at the edge of the open area.  I looked into my scope to get a better look and, to my surprise, discovered that it was already in view.

For ten minutes it stayed in the same place, looking around and preening a bit.  Once or twice it turned around, giving me good views of its back.  Actually, it didn’t stay in one place.  The reed it perched on was sinking under its weight.  By the time it left, it had sunk about two feet.  It stopped briefly on a cattail, then disappeared into the reeds.

I couldn’t have asked for a better view.  I was able to study everything.  It had a heavy, light-colored bill with a dark streak along the top.  Its face, breast and flanks were yellow-orange.  Its belly was white.  There were blurred streaks on the chest and flanks.  Its cheeks and nape were slate gray.  Its crown was rich brown with a gray central stripe.  The back was black with white stripes.  The tail feathers were pointed.

Shortly after the bird disappeared, another birder showed up.  He introduced himself as Peter Kasper.  I recognized him as the person who maintains a web site on the birds of Fermilab.  He asked me what I’d seen and wrote down the birds that he hadn’t seen.  He told me to e-mail him if I saw anything else interesting.  I thanked him for my lifer.  He was very friendly.  He pointed out the types of plants and flowers that attract Sharp-tails.  He also told me he’d just seen a Harris’s Sparrow.  I spent another hour looking for it, but had no more luck.