Listing Through Life

loxia (crosswise) sinesciuris (without squirrel — because Red Squirrels don’t live in the South Hills and compete with the crossbills for food)

Sawtooth National Forest, Idaho — Diamondfield Jack Campground

Friday, June 18, 2021 — 6:20 am

I’ve been hearing for a while now that ornithologists have identified 10 different types of Red Crossbill. None of them are distinguishable by field marks, but they each have their own call notes. There are some scientists who believe they may all be separate species. Since I have a difficult time distinguishing between pitches, it sounded like a muddle to me, and I wasn’t really looking forward to potential splits.

In 2017, one of the types was designated as a separate species. It was named the Cassia Crossbill for Cassia County, Idaho, where it lives. While most Red Crossbills are nomadic, moving to wherever the pine cone crop is good, this particular type is sedentary, sticking exclusively to the South Hills and Albion Mountains in southern Idaho. They feed on lodgepole pine cones. This pine produces a more steady crop of cones than other pines, providing food year-round. In addition, there are no Red Squirrels in these mountains, so the crossbills don’t have to compete for food.

When I heard about the new species, I figured it was very unlikely I’d ever get to that part of Idaho to see it. But then we rearranged our vacation to get to Salt Lake City and suddenly we weren’t that far away. I decided to book a night in Twin Falls and take a stab at the Cassia Crossbill.

I left my wife sleeping in our hotel at 5:15 am and headed south. It took me about an hour to get to Diamondfield Jack Campground in Sawtooth National Forest, where Cassia Crossbills are most easily found. The drive through the South Hills was stunning, although about 10 miles of the valley had recently been burned by a forest fire.

The campground itself is just a four- or five-acre clearing in the woods. Most of the 10 or so camping spots were filled, and I felt conspicuous walking around staring through my binoculars. Fortunately, at 6:15, when I arrived, nobody was up and about. I parked by the entrance, listened to the recording of the crossbill’s call, and set out.

I had only been there about two minutes and hadn’t gone more than 50 feet from my car when I heard the crossbills. I spotted two high on a pine branch and a third on the very top of a pine about 50 yards away. I didn’t bother trying for photos because the birds were silhouetted against the sky. But I had my lifer.

A few minutes later, two flew down to the base of a pine. One of these was a female and one was a juvenile. Here’s the juvenile.

Soon, a male joined them. He flew down to the ground where he was joined by a female.

The one in the treetop was still there, so I know I saw at least four. I think I saw two different females, but I’m not sure. After about a minute, they flew back into the trees out of sight and hearing. I wandered down the campground and soon heard them again. They were in the pines behind a couple of RVs, and I didn’t want to intrude. I did manage to record their calls, but I didn’t see them again.

This video of some of my poorer photos has the calls playing in the background. It’s the four- and five-note chip that’s repeated every second or so.

I figured people would be up and about soon, and I wanted to take a shot at the Gray Partridges seen recently along my route back to Twin Falls. (I was unsuccessful.) But I had my lifer.

Other types of crossbills occasionally move through the South Hills. Here’s why I think I saw Cassia Crossbills.

1. I was at the spot were many other birders have seen them recently.
2. To the very best of my limited ability, I believe the calls of the birds matched the calls I recorded on my phone. I played the recorded calls several times while the birds were calling in the background and they sounded identical to me.
3. Tim Avery, from Pitta Tours, told me that Cassias outnumber other types in the South Hills by at least 10-1.
4. The bills on the crossbills I saw looked bigger. This was true in the field, and it’s true when I compare my photos with the photos I’ve taken of Red Crossbills around Colorado Springs.

On the far left of this photo of Diamondfield Jack Campground you can see part of a camper. I actually saw the crossbills to the left of that campsite, giving you an idea of just how close to my car they were. I’ve lightened this photo considerably. It was still very much in the morning shade on this end of the campground.

Even with an hour-long search for Gray Partridges, I was back at our hotel by 9:00 am.

The part of Idaho I drove through this morning was beautiful.

Since we were in Utah, it seemed appropriate that we see the Great Salt Lake. And since we were going to the lake, it only made sense to go to a part of the lake where I could see birds, right? The particular bird I wanted to see was a Chukar, an Asian game bird that has been introduced into the American west. They are often seen around the visitor center at the state park.

There was, however, a problem. Chukars are most easily seen early in the morning and the park was an hour drive from our hotel. Since I’d gotten up at 5:00 am the morning before and hadn’t gotten to bed until after midnight the night before, early just wasn’t going to happen.

Even seeing the lake was a challenge. The water is so low that the causeway out to the island is just a road across flats of white dirt and weeds. The open water was packed with birds, but it was also so far away that most of the birds were unidentifiable. I did pick out Black-necked Stilts, American Avocets, and Long-billed Curlew.

We drove to the visitor center and walked the trails on the knoll. There were birds around, but no Chukar.

We drove most of the roads in the park and saw some pretty cool wildlife. The island has its own herd of Bison. They’re free-roaming, and one could walk right up to one of them if one wanted to. If the water gets any lower, I don’t know what’s to keep them from walking off the island.

Watching the one in this video scratching himself is mildly amusing.

We also spotted a bored coyote.

And some Burrowing Owls.

For the record, we did see two Pronghorns, the “antelope” the island is named for.

We bought surprisingly good hamburgers at a diner in the park and then went back to the visitor center. I left my wife in the car with the air conditioner blasting (it was hot!), and walked the trails again. I met a couple other birders and struck up conversations, but none of us were seeing Chukars.

My wife wanted to wade in the lake. It took some doing to find a place where we could get to open water without a long trek across hot sand, but we finally managed. But when we got to the water, the surface was coated black with dead gnats. My wife settled for dipping a single toe into the lake. From this point, I could see thousands of birds swimming and diving. I was surprised to discover they were all Eared Grebes — a species I’ve only seen rarely and in very small numbers. Apparently, this is where they all are.

I knew the Chukars were there, so it was difficult to leave, but we had places to go and things to see.

psiloscops (psilos, naked, smooth, and scops, eared owl) flammeolus (diminutive of flammeus, flame-colored, or “small, flaming-red”)

Wasatch Mountain State Park, Utah — Pine Canyon Road

Wednesday, June 16, 2021 — 9:58 pm

It is thought that Flammulated Owls  are rare and very difficult to find. They live in mountain ranges around the west, from Mexico up into Canada. The “difficult to find” part made sense — they are tiny (about the size of a cell phone), strictly nocturnal, and their call is very soft. To add challenge to this, they are the exact color of the trees they live in.

The rare part may not be true. It may just be that nobody sees them. There’s a guy in Colorado who tracks a population near Woodland Park, and I hoped someday to drive up to the area some evening and hear one. I didn’t expect to actually see one.

Then I happened upon a website for a guy named Tim Avery who runs Pitta Tours out of Salt Lake City. For $100, he takes people up into the Wasatch Mountains east of the city and all but guarantees an owl sighting. We were planning a trip to Dinosaur National Monument this summer, so we decided to extend it by a couple days and a few hundred miles.

Tim picked me up at our hotel at 8:45 pm. We drove most of an hour up Big Cottonwood Canyon and into Pine Canyon. We parked in a small dirt lot and walked about 100 yards up a path to a grove of aspen. The field guides say that Flammulated Owls live in mixed oak and conifer woods, and they do. But Tim has discovered that they also live in aspen woods, which are much more open, and therefore a much easier place to find owls.

We stood in the dark and Tim played the owl’s “song,” a low “who” repeated every couple seconds. Before long, he said he heard one. I heard nothing. He then switched to the territorial call. A minute or so later, he shined his flashlight about 25 feet up an aspen and lit up an owl.

I knew it was small, but I hadn’t expected it to be that small. My first attempts at photos didn’t work, but Tim patiently told me how to set my cameras. The owl flew over our heads and landed in another aspen, and this time I got photos.

The owl continued giving its soft hoots, but even then it took me a while before I picked up on the sound. After a minute or so, it took off.

Tim and I exchanged fist bumps. It’s a big relief to him when a client gets a lifer and photos. We walked back to his van and headed back toward Salt Lake City. We stopped about five other places. I finally began hearing the owl’s sound and was a bit of help to Tim as we tried to locate other owls. There was a ridiculous amount of traffic at 11:00 pm on a remote mountain road that went nowhere. I think I heard two Flammulated Owls that we didn’t see.

We finally saw a second one along the paved road in a taller stand of aspen. This one was higher up — maybe 40 feet up the tree, so my photos aren’t as good. After a minute or so, it flew over our heads to another aspen across the road and stayed there for a couple more minutes.

We made one more stop in Big Cottonwood Canyon and heard, but did not see, another one.

Although I’ve managed to spot many of the North American owls over the years, I’d never been owling at night before. I’d also never paid a guide to take me to a bird. I’d much prefer to find them on my own, but in the case of the Flammulated Owl, I doubt I’d have succeeded.

The Flammulated Owl has a redder (more flame-like) phase, but the two we saw were gray with just a little bit of rufous around the face and on the wings. I didn’t see the ear-tufts on either bird we spotted. The eyes are dark and reflected red (which I’ve muted in my photos). The call is not only very soft, but very hard to pinpoint. Tim’s ability to locate them amazed me. You can hear the owl calling in the video, along with Tim’s clicking noise to make it look at us.

He dropped me off back at my hotel at midnight. It was a long day that began at 5:00 am when I set forth in search of my lifer Gray Vireo, but it was a riot.

glaucomys sabrinus

Wasatch Mountain State Park, Utah — Pine Canyon Road

Wednesday, June 16, 2021 — 9:50 pm

I was standing on a dirt road high in the Wasatch Mountains of Utah. It was dark, and I was with a guy named Tim who I’d met for the first time an hour before. We were looking for Flammulated Owls (next post). Tim was playing the calls of the owl and listening for a response. He told me to get my camera ready. While I was fumbling with it, I caught some motion and looked up in time to see a squirrel land on the trunk of an alder tree, about 20 feet off the ground and maybe five feet away from where we stood. Tim shone his spotlight on it, and I got a good look at it plastered against the trunk. While I brought my camera up to my eyes and tried to get a picture, the squirrel scurried around the trunk and climbed out on a limb. All I managed to capture was a gray blur. I didn’t even see it as it jumped and soared to another tree.

Tim was very excited. He said it was just the fourth flying squirrel he’d seen in 15 years of owling. He also said he thought the squirrel showed up in response to the owl calls, but I forget why he thought that was the case.