Listing Through Life

anser (goose) rossii (given in 1861 by John Cassin, Philadelphia ornithologist, for Bernard Rogan Ross, Chief Factor of Hudson’s Bay Company, Canada)

Monday, December 22, 1997 — 9:30 am

Holla Bend National Wildlife Refuge, Arkansas

The ABA Bird-finding Guide, A Birder’s Guide to Arkansas says that Holla Bend is a consistent location to find Ross’s Geese. It advises to “Find a flock of Snow Geese and put your scope to work.” So I did. A huge flock of Snow Geese was feeding in the mowed cornfield in front of the maintenance buildings. I got within 100 yards and began scanning.

This was not very easy. The flock was active. The geese were walking around and as soon as I’d concentrate on an individual goose, it would disappear into the crowd. Single geese and small groups were constantly in the air, sometimes flying 20 feet, sometimes flying 300 yards to the other side of the flock. Every so often a large portion of the flock would take off in waves, circle the area, then land, again in waves. It was hard to keep any one goose in my sights for more than a few seconds. A few Mallards were mixed in with the geese, and a small flock of Canada Geese was feeding a short distance away.

I was barely close enough to see the black grin on the Snow’s bills, so I concentrated on looking for smaller geese with rounder heads. After about forty minutes, I spotted four geese, one white adult and three gray-white immatures that had obviously shorter necks and bills and rounder heads. The immatures were pretty white except for some gray wash here and there and a gray area extending on a line up the back of their necks. They were at the edge of the flock, about ten feet from the mass of birds, but a few Snow Geese were wandering about with them. I was sure they were Ross’s, and thought I could tell that their bills lacked the grin, but I wasn’t totally satisfied. The entire flock took off, circled and landed on the other side of the field. I had to drive about two miles to get close.

I parked right at the head of the road to Lodge Lake looking towards the Arkansas River, out of sight behind a row of trees about a mile away. The flock was about 70 yards away. I opened my door but didn’t get out of the car. I set up my scope on the ground and almost immediately picked out two adult Ross’s. Again they were at the edge of the flock. They were moving among the stalks of corn and among the Snow Geese, and I kept losing them and finding them again. It was obvious that their necks were quite a bit shorter and their bills were stubbier. The profile of the head was rounder, giving them a forehead, while the Snow’s head slanted down in a line that continued with the ridge of the bill. I was now close enough to see clearly that they lacked the grin and I could also clearly see the blue area at the base of the bill. I compared this with the clean orange of the Snow’s bills.

The flock wandered down into a depression out of my sight, and then flew off across the field to their original position. About a hour later I saw the flock at rest, with many of the geese sitting and many others standing and preening. I was again about 70 yards away, but I couldn’t find the Ross’s. Another hour later I saw the flock flying high above the entrance road headed northwest.

I went back to the refuge on Friday, December 26. The geese were there again. I first spotted the flock way off in a field near the old channel. In the late morning I came upon it again. It was near the maintenance buildings, but on the east side of the tour road, and only about 50 yards away from me. I sat in my car for over an hour and watched. It was raining, and the rain was gradually turning to snow, but it didn’t bother the geese. At first the flock was feeding actively, walking about in a field that had been mowed close and in an adjoining field that had standing stalks. I spotted several Ross’s and saw all the field marks well, except that I didn’t see any birds either day that appeared to have warty bumps on the bill. They kept disappearing and I have no idea how many individual Ross’s I was seeing. The entire flock took off and circled and landed in the same area, or perhaps even a little bit closer to the car. The geese settled down some, with many sitting and many others preening. I found two Ross’s that happened to be the closest geese to me. They were standing in one spot, preening. Occasionally, one would look up and stand motionless for a minute or so. On several of these occasions, a Snow Goose would be in the same pose just a foot or so away, giving me an opportunity to compare as though they were field guide photos. While watching these two, I spotted five more back in the flock a little ways, so I had seven in view at once. I think the flock of Snows on Friday was even bigger than it had been on Monday. A very rough estimate would be 10,000 birds, but how can you tell? To add to the effect, grazing next to the geese, and intermingled with them to some degree, was a flock of Mallards at least as large as the flock of geese. I watched to my hearts content, and then headed off to look, unsuccessfully, for owls in the snow.

myadestes (from myia, fly, and edestes, eater) townsendi (given in 1838 by John James Audubon for John K. Townsend, young Philadelphia ornithologist, who collected the first one known to science along the Columbia River)

Tuesday, November 11, 1997 — 2:30 pm

Evanston, Illinois — Northwestern University

I found out about this bird on Monday afternoon when I got E-mail on my computer at work from IBET (Illinois Birders Exchanging Thoughts). It was too late in the day to do anything about it. I went to work on Tuesday looking for an excuse. I had a half-day of vacation, and when I heard on the hot-line that the solitaire had been seen again I decided to go for it. I arrived at Northwestern at 1:00. I was walking along the path between the lagoon and Lake Michigan where it had been seen. I met another birder who was looking for it, but he soon gave up and left. I walked back and forth along the lagoon a few times without luck. I then wandered over near the campus library where there are several berry trees. I saw some Cedar Waxwings, and a thin, light-gray Robin that gave me a momentary thrill. I walked back between the lagoon and the lake to the far north end of the landfill, still without luck. I scoped the lake for ducks and saw some fairly large rafts of mergansers and goldeneyes. I also saw a lone American Tree Sparrow in the weeds about two feet from where I stood. I was contemplating giving up and heading for Gillson Park.

As I passed a parking lot, two birders, an older man and a woman about my age, got out of a car and asked if I’d seen the Solitaire. I told them that I hadn’t, but had heard that it had been seen that morning. I looked at my watch and saw that it was now 2:15. I decided since I took off from work and come out there to see the bird, I might as well keep at it. I walked around the lagoon, this time heading between it and the campus. A male Kestrel was sitting in a small evergreen right next to the path. As I stopped to look at it, it flew about 30 yards to another tree. I walked forward slowly until it took off again. I thought I’d flushed it, but it came right at me and landed in the weeds along the path about seven feet from where I stood. It stayed only a couple seconds, with its wings held up above its back, then flitted back up into the tree. I don’t know what it was going for, but it didn’t get it. As it flew back up, I saw, for the first time (I’m ashamed to say) the row of white spots along the trailing edge of the wing. But I digress.

I walked the length of the lagoon and started back on the lake side. I was going pretty fast, having pretty much decided my bird had flown. When I got to the corner where the lagoon makes a curve eastward toward the lake, I saw the older man whom I’d met in the parking lot. He was standing with his arm pointing toward a grove of evergreens and trying to get the attention of the woman he had come with (who was 100 yards further down the shore). As I approached, he told me where to look. The Solitaire was sitting on the top branch of a 10-foot leafless deciduous tree in front of the evergreens, about 40 yards from the path. It sat motionless, and the three of us stood and got great looks. After three or four minutes, the Solitaire flew to another leafless deciduous tree and landed on a branch above a clump of low evergreen shrubs mixed with some kind of berry-bearing vine. It sat motionless for a minute or so, then dropped down onto the evergreen, fluttering above it and grabbing at something, although we couldn’t tell what. It wasn’t berries. For the next few minutes, it stayed in that area, sitting on the branches or dropping down onto the shrubs. Then it flew across a small clearing to an open grove of small deciduous trees (that still had maybe half their leaves) about 20 feet from the lake.

We walked around to the lake path and got within 40 feet of the bird. The other two birders wandered down the lake to look for ducks. (The solitaire wasn’t even a state bird for them.) I kept watching the solitaire for maybe another ten minutes. It stayed in the grove, sitting still, then flitting up or over to another branch as though grabbing something, then landing on another perch. It was still repeating this when I left. I got within 10 feet, and it ignored me, but I didn’t want to flush it, so I didn’t stay long.

falco (hawk) peregrinus (wandering)

Friday, November 7, 1997 — 9:20 am

Evanston, Illinois — Evanston Water Department and Northwestern University — Lake Michigan

It had only been 50 minutes since I saw the Black-legged Kittiwake. During that time I had seen my second flock of Snow Buntings for the day and three dark-winged scoters (which would have been another lifer if I could have identified them). In other words, it had been a good hour. We left Gillson Park and parked by the Grosse Point Lighthouse and walked south toward Northwestern. The water department has a tiny park on the shore of the lake just south of the campus. We stood near the shore and looked for ducks.

I spotted a large, dark gray-blue bird, flying north low over the lake close to shore. It was north of us and soon disappeared over a breakwater out of sight. I had seen enough to suspect it had been a Peregrine, and was lamenting my luck verbally. About 30 seconds later, a European Starling on a nearby light post took off quickly and then we saw the falcon again. It was heading back south, right past us, 20 yards out over the lake and maybe 15 feet above the waves. As it passed, I got a fantastic look at the dark hood and sideburns. It continued steadily toward campus, rose up and circled above the roof of the building just south of the fenced-in beach/dune area. It landed on a ledge high up on the building, out of our sight. We waited perhaps 45 seconds, yelling with excitement about our luck. We were considering walking around and looking for it when it reappeared. It flew high above the beach/dune area and began soaring/kiting/hovering, maintaining its position with an occasional twist or flap of its wing. It stayed in the same place long enough for me to get it in my scope. I should have looked at it longer, but I’m a nice guy, so I turned the scope over to my friend, and he had a good look. It stayed there for what seemed like three or four minutes but may have been shorter. Whatever, it was an exciting experience. I was about to commandeer the scope again when the bird flew off out of sight over the tree line to the west.

The Peregrine Falcon is a bird that I have dreamed about seeing for so long that for the rest of the day, I was constantly aware that I had seen one. I kept saying, “You know what? I saw a Peregrine Falcon today.” I told him that my life had been significantly altered and that I was having to adjust to the “Post-Peregrine” part of my existence.

The morning had been exciting because the winds had been from the northeast. As the morning wore on, the wind shifted and came from the east. The ducks quit moving and we didn’t see much of anything as we worked our way up the shore to Highland Park.  We decided to head out to Barrington. At Baker’s Lake and Crabtree we saw a bunch of ducks and other stuff, including three immature Northern Harriers. We also saw an American Kestrel, setting my record for most falcon species in one day: two. Because of our fortune in the morning, we were under no pressure to see anything good. We relaxed, saw 51 species on the day, and had a great time.

rissa (kittiwake) tridactyla (three-toed)

Friday, November 7, 1997 — 8:30 am

Wilmette, Illinois — Gillson Park

We went to the lake primarily to look for scoters. (We saw three with dark wings, but they were too far out to identify.) We walked south and had just arrived by the harbor channel when a flock of 15 or so Snow Buntings flew north along the shore. They looked like they might land, so we followed, but didn’t see them again. We wandered back along the beach toward the harbor. I was by the base of the cement pier when I spotted a lone gull. It was approximately 30 yards away, out over the water. I noticed its striking black-and-white markings immediately. When I saw that the white triangles were in the center of the wings instead of near the tip, I began to get excited. The bird turned and banked effortlessly in the strong wind, giving us great views from every angle. It fluttered buoyantly about in front of us, hovering over the waves. It dropped down and landed on the water about 40 yards in front of us for about four seconds, just long enough to fold its wings, then took off and flew south out over the lake and out of sight.

What made this sighting so ironic is that I had never studied the field marks of a Black-legged Kittiwake in my life — until the night before. I had been leafing through Chicagoland Birds and saw that this bird was a rare fall visitor to the area. I figured I ought to know what it looked like, just in case.

It was a beautiful gull and the rarest bird I’ve found since I saw the Varied Thrush in my backyard back in 1979. I knew that I needed to see the black collar and looked for it right away. That’s what got me really excited. I began yelling to my friend, “Get on this one.  Get on this one.”  Then I began calling out the field marks we needed to see. “Look for the black nape.  Do you see the black “M” on the back?” I was frenetic.

We were still reveling in our luck when three more Snow Bunting flew in from out over the lake. They flitted around the rock breakwater that forms the harbor channel as though they were about land, then flew north along the beach, passing within six feet of where we stood.

calidris (speckled water bird) fuscicollis (from fuscus, brown, and collum, neck)

Friday, June 20, 1997 — 8:25 am

Manotowish Waters, Wisconsin — Powell Marsh Wildlife Area

A friend and I were out on one of the low sand hills in the center of the marsh (very close to where I saw the Red-necked Phalarope in 1984) when we spotted this bird. It was moving about on a small mud flat in an area that had some open water, many patches of reeds, and a few flats. The bird was about 60 yards away. I looked at it through my scope and began eliminating possibilities. It was just a bit smaller than the Killdeer that was on a nearby flat, and it looked elongated, but it was too far away for a good view. All I could tell for sure was that I couldn’t tell what it was, but that it might be interesting.

After about five minutes of this, the Killdeer kindly flew to the same flat and chased the bird I was looking at. It flew toward us and landed on another flat about 40 yards away. I could now see it well. Its wings extended about half an inch past the tail. Its chest was spotted and the spots extended in two or three orderly rows along the sides below the wings. It looked gray overall, with some rufous areas on its head, back, and wings (no sense of buffiness as in the Baird’s Sandpiper I saw six weeks ago) and a thin, white “V” on the back. The legs and bill were black. It fed by sticking its bill in the mud and moving it rapidly up and down in a sewing-machine motion.

I was watching through my binoculars when it flew a short ways and I thought I saw a white rump flash against a dark tail, but I didn’t feel real good about the view. A few minutes later, I was using the scope when it flew again, again for a few yards. I was ready for it this time and saw the white rump well. Before both flights, it had worked its way along the tiny flats and then paused at the end before taking off.

We watched it for a while, then headed back the way we had come. We soon came upon a second levy that ran parallel to the sand hill we had been on. We walked back again and got another view from about 20 yards away. The bird didn’t fly again, but we got excellent views of its long wings and spotted flanks.