American Avocets are found in fresh and saltwater wetlands in western North America into Central America and the Caribbean. They eat aquatic invertebrates, foraging in shallow areas, often sweeping their beaks through the water to locate prey by touch. Their nests are shallow scrapes, usually lined with grass or feathers, which they aggressively defend from predators. Females sometimes lay their eggs in the nests of other American Avocets or occasionally in other species’ nests. Common Terns and Black-necked Stilts also sometimes lay eggs in avocet nests, where the parents may raise the chicks along with their own.
#265
Two of them, feeding in the New Cuyama waste treatment pond. They’re not a particularly rare species, but they’re uncommon and local in Santa Barbara County, and for whatever reason I’ve been unable to catch up with any so far this year until today. Whew. 🙂
I’m thinking some kind of epiphyte? I’ll ask Andrea, the head of the marsh docent program and local-botanical-knowledge badass, the next time I see her.
This is a better view than I had; the one I saw (after my birdy marathon up around East Pinery Road and the Davy Brown Trail, when I stopped to check out the birds along Cachuma Creek) was in the top of a tree, so all I saw was the tail pumping and the whitish undertail coverts. But the pumping tail was enough to make it an empid, and call it was making was enough to make it a WIFL. 😀
I was feeling kind of run down yesterday afternoon; a lot of pollen in the air and my allergies have been kicking in from all the time I’ve been spending in sparrow habitat. Then I got a text from Eric: “Seems like a good swift day. Eight Black over Franklin Trail.”
That was all the incentive I needed. Ninety minutes later, a little out of breath, I met up with Eric on his way back down and we checked out a total (while I was there) of 10 Black Swifts migrating north over the Santa Ynez mountains. Such awesome birds; more than any other (except I guess maybe some long-distance pelagics like albatrosses) they’re creatures wholly of the air, always flying. I’d seen White-throated and Vaux’s Swifts before, but this was my first time ever seeing their larger cousins.
Brad Hacker recently reported hearing some of these up on West Camino Cielo near Refugio Pass, so this morning I got up there as the sun was rising and sure enough; I was barely out of my car when I heard the bird’s distinctive song – until now something I’d only heard in recordings.
I wasn’t able to see the bird, but the song is distinctive enough that I’m fine with counting it.
You remember my friend Eric? The same one helped me see my county-year Swainson’s Thrush and Calliope Hummingbird? Today around noon he texted me: “You don’t still need macgillivray’s do you?”
Yeah, actually, I did. People have been reporting them all over. Not a lot of them, just 1s and 2s in the appropriate brushy stream-side habitat. I’ve been looking, sifting through lots of Common Yellowthroats and Wilson’s Warblers, but so far no luck.
Anyway, I headed to the 8th Street bridge where Eric had just seen three of them, and shortly thereafter he refound one of them for me. Thanks Eric!
My friend Eric told me he’d seen Swainson’s Thrush in Carpinteria Creek near Lillingston Canyon Road, so today I did the crack-of-dawn thing, dropping into the creekbed and walking along it for a mile and a half. I saw lots of great birds, including three Swainson’s Thrushes, the last of which posed politely and turned several times so I could appreciate it from all angles.
I also saw a couple of Purple Martins flying by with a flock of swallows, which was neat even though I’d already seen them this year, and something truly adorable: A female Anna’s Hummingbird bathing in the creek by hovering and lowering herself slowly into the water while paddling upstream with her tiny feet.
Olive-sided Flycatcher (Dane County year bird #231), photobombed by a proud Ruby-throated Hummingbird.
Pheasant Branch, WI
#259
One had been reported at Los Alamos County Park, which was sort of on the way for my trip home, so I stopped in to see if I could find it. It was very windy, which had the birds under cover and made it hard to hear vocalizations, but it still was fun (fact: birding is always fun).
I’d given up and was walking back to my car when I saw a bird fly to the top of a tall radio antenna on the hill west of the park. It was pretty far away, but in the binocs I could see the short tail, big head, and white belly contrasting with the dark sides. Yay! The universe rewarding me again!
June 21, 2016 – Bell’s Sparrow (Artemisiospiza belli)
Found in sagebrush, chaparral, and other scrubby, open habitats of California and western Arizona, these birds and the Sagebrush Sparrow were previously considered the same species. First known as Bell’s Sparrows, then split into two species, they were lumped again as the Sage Sparrow in the 1950s, before being split once again. They eat seeds, insects, spiders, small fruits, and vegetation in the breeding season and mostly grass and other plant seeds in the non-breeding season, foraging mostly on the ground. Females build open cup nests in or under shrubs, from twigs and grasses, lining them with fine grasses, thin bark, feathers, wool, and hair.
#258
I’d seen their previous conspecific Sagebrush Sparrow on our Mammoth trip, so I knew what to look for. These shy LBJs are hard, though.
Prairie falcons in flight in Arizona. Top photo is a wild bird (we think juvenile, but not positive) and bottom photo is a young bird being trained for falconry. She was trapped a few weeks earlier and this was her first free flight training session.
There were tons of prairie falcons in Arizona during my trip. On the first day we were there, Kai refused to hunt with us because a wild prairie was hunting nearby (we didn’t know this until afterwards). A forest-adapted goshawk out in the open desert is no match for a prairie falcon in their natural habitat, so he took off towards the cover of neighborhoods and led us on a tail chase for 10 minutes. It took a lot of convincing to get him to come down. It was scary, but also so fascinating seeing how different species interact with each other.
#256
This was the bird I was most hoping for when I made the last-minute decision to head to Cuyama yesterday. Since it was a solo trip I couldn’t spare too much attention from driving, but what I could was dedicated to scanning telephone poles and prominent rock piles and anything biggish and flying for the slim figure of a big falcon.
Until mid-morning today it was mostly Common Ravens (Edgar would have liked them), some Red-tails, and a few Swainson’s Hawks. And then, as I was driving along Foothill Road toward the dairy where I planned to look through blackbirds in hopes of a Yellow-headed, I saw it: Trim and fast, pointed wings but clearly way bigger than the kestrel I’d seen earlier. I braked and got the car to the side of the road, jumped out and raised my binoculars, but even without them I knew it was good; the sandy color and black axillaries looked just like the Prairie Falcon I’d seen near Bridgeport on our Mammoth trip last month.
The bird was chasing a raven that had something in its beak. After a few seconds the raven dropped whatever it was and the Prairie Falcon grabbed it in its talons and flew off screeching. I don’t know if the falcon was robbing the raven or just stealing back something the raven had stolen first.
That’s bird-watching: Hours of driving and camping over two days for twenty seconds of awesomeness. Totally worth it. 🙂
These small nightjars are found in dry grassy or shrubby areas of western North America. Foraging mostly at dawn, dusk, or on moonlit nights, they catch insects in the air, making short flights from the ground or a low perch. During cold weather, when the insects they feed on aren’t active, they can enter a state of torpor, dropping their body temperature and slowing their metabolism. Females lay their eggs directly on bare ground, gravel, pine needles, or dead leaves without building a structure. Both parents feed the chicks with regurgitated insects and can move either the eggs or chicks to a new nest site if they are disturbed. The down-covered chicks can move around by hopping or somersaulting.
#255
Nightjars are improbably cool. I’d never heard this one until an hour ago. It sounded adorable. 🙂
western screech owl, M. kennicottii, held among pear tree blossoms.
#254
My trip to Cuyama was mostly to spend the night at Aliso Park Campgorund (where I am now; yay cell coverage) because I need a couple of nocturnal birds that have been reported from here recently. First up was this little charmer. (Actually, first up were Great Horned and Barn Owls. But I had them already.)
I love these guys. A few early migrants had been seen here and there on the south coast, but I hadn’t had any luck so far. Then some birders reported seeing a lot of them at Barka Slough near Lompoc, and today I had a chance to stop by there on my way to an overnight birding trip in Cuyama.
It was quite windy when I pulled up at Barka Slough, but I figured I’d give it a try. I’d taken only a few steps down the road when I heard a metallic call and there he was, in the tall grass 15 feet in front of me.😀
I’m glad it isn’t always this easy. But it sure was nice this time.
I went to the Carpinteria Bluffs this morning and had a grand time, topped off by my first-this-year (and second ever) Palm Warbler. I saw one at the Greenwell Preserve last fall when I was scouting for the upcoming Christmas Count, but this one today was in its breeding plumage and much spiffier looking, with crisp streaking below, a yellow throat, and a rufous crown.
Peter Gaede saw a Palm Warbler in pretty much this same spot on January 5 for our Christmas Count, which led Eric Culbertson to wonder if the bird I saw today is the same bird, having overwintered there, or a different bird, having wandered in as a spring vagrant. Who knows? (Well, the warbler in question presumably knows.)
There are two hummingbird species that are common around Santa Barbara year-round: Anna’s and Allen’s. Each spring we get four more: Rufous, Black-chinned, Costa’s, and Calliope. I picked up the Rufous, Black-chinned, and Costa’s pretty quickly once migration started, but I couldn’t find a Calliope.
Today at lunchtime my birding friend Eric phoned me up. I get excited when I see his name on my phone because he doesn’t bother to call unless he’s got something good. “I’m looking at a Calliope Hummingbird on Santa Monica Creek.”
I grabbed my binoculars and was out the door, and five minutes later I was looking at the bird. Thanks, Eric!
It’s nice that for this round number I got such a spectacular bird. I’d never seen a Least Bittern before (never seen an American Bittern before; hitherto I’ve been completely bitternless).
A few days ago Will Knowlton found a Least Bittern skulking in the reeds at Lake Los Carneros, and since then a number of people have spent time looking for it, the lucky folk catching occasional glimpses of the super-shy, super-tiny heron. I’d tried a couple of times, but had struck out so far. Then, as I was watching this morning, I got a quick glimpse of the bird; it was hidden back in the reeds but I could make it out with the spotting scope. I wanted to share the view with the two birders standing next to me, but had to lower the telescope for them, and while I was doing that the bird disappeared into the reeds.
I felt good that I’d seen it, but it wasn’t the most satisfying view, and I felt bad about being unable to share it. So we kept looking, and a half hour or so later (after some other birders had also arrived), I was looking at some swallows that were flying by the reeds when suddenly I saw the bittern in my field of view, flying. I abandoned the swallow I was looking at and shouted excitedly to the other birders, and several of us were able to watch it as it flew for a few seconds before landing in the reeds and disappearing again.
Seal Rock State Park, OR June 11, 2015 Robert Niese
This Tattler was certainly wandering! It’s breeding season for most shorebirds this time of year, but this lone Wandering Tattler is hundreds of miles away from its typical breeding grounds in NE Russia, Alaska, and NW Canada. What’cha doing here, buddy?
#249
Reading the blog from Glenn Kincaid’s 2015 Santa Barbara County “Green Big Year” was a big part of what got me excited about keeping a county year list this year. Mine isn’t remotely green (I feel fairly conflicted about all the fossil fuel I’m burning), but reading Glenn’s account of the different species he was able to find and the places he found them made me want to do some of that. Glenn hadn’t been birding much in Santa Barbara County this year (he was traveling, I believe), but he’s back and entering eBird lists, and yesterday he reported two Wandering Tattlers from the Santa Barbara Harbor breakwater.
I headed out there this morning and walked to the sandspit at the end of the breakwater. There were lots of cool birds; loons and Black-crowned Night Herons and a huge flock of Elegant Terns. But no Wandering Tattlers. I was philosophical about it. They’d probably continued their wandering. No big deal. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
I turned around to walk back off the sandspit, and… there they were. Three of them. I know I say they’re all cool birds, but these ones were really cool. Nothing like an unambiguous shorebird, right there in front of you.
Common Ground-Dove Bellflower, CA July 10, 2013 Taken with a Canon PowerShot SX50 HS
#247
Uncommon and declining in Santa Barbara County. 😞
I know them from when I was a kid birdwatching in Florida, and have seen them a couple of times in Carp, but not recently.
So I set the alarm and headed up this morning to Farren Road on the other side of Santa Barbara, where a few have been seen lately in an avocado orchard. I didn’t see any, but heard two of them clearly enough to count.
