Shooting for 500

After a year hiatus, I'm hoping to write here more regularly again this year. I was fortunate enough to do a fair bit of socially-distanced traveling last year (basically the way I always travelled, just with more hand-sanitizer and face masks) and avoided contracting Covid-19. Like most of the United States, even my home state of New Mexico saw a spate of exceptionally unusual birds show up (two firsts for the state list, and a litany of other Code 3, 4. and 5 species). Frankly, it was a bit overwhelming at times. I'll likely attempt to recount some of the more exciting moments of what was a weird year for basically everyone. 

After missing it in the last few days of March, and then being unable to get out to Fort Jefferson when in Florida, turning up this Sooty Tern (Onychoprion fuscatus) amongst the Laughing Gull colony at Rockport Beach Park was not only an exciting Texas bird, but also a Life bird.
Apr. 12, 2021

I figured I'd start with a more recent trip (and milestone) I managed to reach in the first half of April 2021. After working in the western Oklahoma panhandle for the first three months of the year doing Longspur surveys, I had planned on using the bit of down time I had before my next surveying job (and summer Arctic field work) to fill in some gaps in my various lists. The highest priority was to swing through Florida for the various vagrants and regular species I had yet to connect with (but that portion of the trip will be its own post). Of only *slightly* lower priority was closing the ever-narrowing gap separating my Texas list from a 500 species milestone. After two separate trips to the LRGV in December 2020, and another in January 2021, along with a few closer-to-home twitches in the panhandle and a swing out to Dallas/Fort Worth and NE Texas in January my Texas list was sitting at 492 species. being this close to 500, and with several regular species missing (such as Prairie Warbler and Swallow-tailed Kite) was admittedly a bit excruciating. 

After bidding my supervisor good luck and adieu on the evening of March 28th, I nosed southward and began bombing south of Dalhart towards Santa Ana NWR. My initial plan for this month had been to save the Texas birding for after I had visited Florida, but with a recent spate of reports of a Hook-billed Kite along the Chachalaca Trail, I decided to bird the Valley first, and then bump on over to Florida. The 13 hour drive passed largely without incident, and I arrived at Santa Ana around 7:30 the next morning. Finding my way to the GPS coordinates provided by Josh Lefever, I felt the familiar sense of jittery anticipation that always accompanies night-long drives fueled by too much coffee, too little sleep, and set to the appropriate amount of classic rock. 

Checking my phone, I found I had arrived at Josh's pin. I began intently scanning the trees bordering the trail as I walked slowly along the trail. Not twenty meters further, a Kite flushed across in front of me and alighted on a snag in the open near by. Finally, after at least ten trips to the LRGV and many days spent standing on hawk watch platforms, hiking canals, and checking former haunts of the species, here was a Hook-billed Kite. 

Female Hook-billed Kite (Chondrohierax uncinatus), Santa Ana NWR-- Chachalaca Trail, Hidalgo County, Texas 
Mar. 29, 2021

 It sat on its chosen perch for 5-6 minutes, allowing me to get plenty of photos and just enjoy watching it. Eventually it continued on its way, disappearing into the canopy, presumably to search for more tree snails. A little dizzy with excitement, I continued down the trail and spent about an hour looking for the Rose-throated Becard that had been frequenting a section of trail behind Willow Lakes the past few weeks. I dipped on the Becard, but wasn't too shaken up. I decided to head over to Estero Llano Grande SP to see if I could turn up the Yellow-faced Grassquit that had showed up briefly at the feeder a week before. I had no expectation of actually seeing it, so I leisurely poked around the Tropical Zone and ran into Josh, with whom I'd worked for the first two months of the year in Oklahoma. It was pleasant catching up and ticking off year birds, and eventually we made our way to the Camino de Aves section of the State Park a bit after noon. There we happened upon two of the park staff, one of whom was beckoning us from a few hundred yards down the maintenance road that abuts the park boundary and an orange orchard. We jogged over and I was shocked when they informed us they had just seen the Grassquit a few minutes before. After about half an hour of searching, we managed to turn the bird up again. After some more time we finally managed good views (though all were brief). I couldn't believe I had lucked into a second life/state bird for the day. 

The morning of March 30th dawned gray and humid at Blucher Park in Corpus Christi where I flushed my life Chuck-wills-widow and found a few other migrants. I got to Rockport Beach Park a little after 10 am. I searched the Laughing Gull colony and scanned the bay for several hours but didn't see the Sooty Tern that had been reported there previously. The heat, sun, and deafening cacophony (at that point I would have said "obnoxious") of calling Laughing Gulls was starting to fray my patience, so I started North for Galveston Island SP. I got there around 6pm and began hiking back and forth along the Jenkins Trail and Kayak launch, listening in vain for Black Rails. I did find 10 photogenic Nelson's Sparrows and a few Seaside Sparrows. 

One of several surprisingly confiding Nelson's Sparrows (Ammospiza nelsoni) at Galveston Island SP, Galveston County, TX
Mar. 30, 2021

I was back at the Jenkins trail shortly after 7:00am the next morning, and after half an hour of walking around I heard the first tentative "ki-ki-brrrrr" notes from near the parking area. I listened for 30 minutes as a nearby Black Rail growled insistently, and provided my 496th Texas state bird.

From here I turned my sights Eastward, and began heading for Florida. However, I once again found myself in Texas on my return West on the morning of April 9th. I began the day at Sabine Woods, which ended up being somewhat lackluster (in stark contrast to the early migrant spectacle I had enjoyed at Peveto Woods the evening before), so I turned my attention to Anahuac NWR and Bolivar Flats Shorebird Sanctuary. I discovered a flooded field just north of the Anahuac NWR turn off of Hwy 124 where several hundred Whimbrels and many other waders were feeding. Bolivar Flats was similarly loaded, and an hour of sea watching at Rollover Pass produced a state Pomarine Jaeger (#497). 

An evidently territorial Wilson's Plover (Charadrius wilsonia) at Bolivar Flats Shorebird Sanctuary, Galveston County, TX joined the spectacle of migrant waders feeding and loafing with the incoming tide. It was great seeing large numbers of migrant shorebirds at this site, and reminded me of why I enjoy working with them on their Arctic breeding grounds so much.
Apr. 9, 2021

The next morning, dawn found me picking my way down Gore Store Road in Hardin County through a thick cloak of fog. I was making half-mile stops (like a BBS) through the various tree farms listening for singing Prairie Warblers. After a few hours I made a stop 7 miles from where I had started (Hwy 92) and immediately heard the buzzy drawl of a singing male Prairie. After some searching I managed to find him atop a short pine with my spotting scope as a Game Warden drove by and asked me what I was doing. He seemed a little bemused, but given my NM license plates and willingness to stand out in a persistent light drizzle staring at the top of a pine tree I don't blame him. He mentioned previously he'd worked in Laredo where he ran into birders all the time but didn't come across many here in the Pine Woods of East Texas. I smiled sheepishly and mentioned I may have been one of those birders and he wished me luck as he went on his way. 

The sun came out as I drove into Liberty a little while later. I hiked around Liberty Municipal Park looking in vain for Swallow-tailed Kite. Despite dipping on the Kite, I was really impressed by the extent and quality of cypress and bottomland habitat abutting the park. That evening I checked Rollover Pass again and came across several Hudsonian Godwits, Texas bird #499. After another day in the Winnie area and not seeing anything particularly exciting aside for a Glossy Ibis at Anahuac NWR I made my way to Houston on the morning of April 12th. I started the day at Houston Heights Reservoir searching in vain for Red-vented Bulbul and Scaly-breasted Munia. I was similarly thwarted at Woodland and White Oak Parks. The Arlington Street site that had been reliable last December for the Bulbul was also a dead end. By midmorning I made my way to Tulane St and began once again wandering around, checking power line and trees. After not having luck I decided to go to the exact site of the eBird Hotspot pin along a back alley between Tulane and Rutland. Here I pished twice and immediately two Bulbuls flew in. I admittedly have a weird relationship with introduced/established exotic species, but I've come to the conclusion that these "established" (what that word means is a whole different debate) birds don't have similar prejudices, they're just doing they're thing. Having given me such a run, it was a satisfying #500 for Texas and a Life bird to boot. 

Glossy Ibis (Plegadis falcinellus) Anahuac NWR-- Shoveler Pond Loop, Chambers County Tx
Apr. 11, 2021

I decided to give the Sooty Tern in Rockport a second try since it'd been seen several times since my failed search in March. On my way south I picked up another state bird, one of the several breeding Swallow-tailed Kites soaring over Ganado. I arrived at Rockport Beach Park amid a fine mist and gray skies, pulled over adjacent to the protected nesting Laughing Gull colony and in about 5 minutes noticed the handsome Sooty Tern loafing amidst the Laughing Gulls. It was a sweet #502 for Texas and US (continental) bird #698. It served as a nice claw-back after the disappointment of not being able to visit Fort Jefferson in the Dry Tortugas NP while in the Florida Keys earlier in April. While I have nothing against Florida, I feel a special pride in seeing it in Texas (I feel similarly about my life Purple Sandpiper having been in Texas). 

From here I continued bumping West through Hill Country where I was fortunate to make a brief rendezvous with Kandace Glanville (who had also been a member of the Oklahoma Longspur field team this winter) at Balcones NWR. Over a Riesling and surprisingly good Texas (Lubbock) Merlot I made good my promise to toast her 300th Texas bird from a few weeks prior and toasting my 500th added a nice symmetry to the occasion. Mostly I was getting the run down on which places were best for Black-capped Vireo and Golden-cheeked Warbler, inquiries Kandace was kind enough to oblige. At dawn I was at the Shin Oak Observation Deck being serenaded by Chuck-will's Widows. Around sunrise I had a Black-capped singing a mere 15 feet away in the nearest shrub. I next made a beeline for the Warbler Vista Trailhead where, upon stepping out of my car I had no fewer than 5 Golden-cheeked Warblers, 4 singing males and a female. It was almost anticlimactic how easy it was to find these two threatened species. At the very least, I had expected to need to work a little harder (which has been my past experience with both species). It was nice to encounter what felt like an abundance of each species, even if it was at a relatively discreet site. 

At this point I needed to get back to NM to recombobulate before starting some bird surveys in the Southeast portion of that state so I made tracks Westward, getting to a small rest area near the state line in the early evening. The next morning was once again overcast with a persistent drizzle and full of the surreal sounds of lekking Lesser Prairie-Chickens. There were nearly twice as many males present this morning as compared to when I visited this site 2 years prior, which was an encouraging sign. 

A distant photo of lekking male Lesser Prairie-Chickens (Tympanuchus pallidicinctus) on a misty morning
Apr. 15, 2021

I have a perhaps weird fascination/obsession with birding in Texas. It feels a little silly to have put so much time, energy, and money into listing in Texas when I have not actually lived in that state. Initially it simply was the closest or most convenient places to see a lot of more easterly/Gulf Coast species that were new to me and I couldn't hope to see in New Mexico. Living in Las Cruces for four years, adjacent to far West Texas certainly helped as well, making it easy to accumulate many range-restricted species within the state. I look forward to continuing to chip away at the 60 or so counties I have yet to visit in Texas and continue to explore the ones I already have. There are still plenty of regular breeding/passage migrants in the state that I have yet to see (a few would be life birds), though for now I feel pretty good about my state list. Unless I move to Texas (which is a serious consideration) I'll probably turn my attention more towards tracking down a few other relatively nearby life birds I haven't gotten to yet. Even so, I'll always look forward to my next foray into the Lone Star State. 

"Show me, the way, to the next Fork-tailed Fly"

To call a Fork-tailed Flycatcher (Tyrannus savanna) "stunning" or "exquisite" feels a bit cliché, but as far as New World Flycatchers go, its a pretty spectacular example of evolution.

Riviera, Kleberg Co. Tx

Dec. 7, 2019

"… Oh, don't ask why."

3pm on Friday afternoon saw me clocking out of work for the week and jumping in my car for a marathon of driving. I was able to slip through Santa Fe without to much hassle and dusk found me rolling into Roswell, NM. After quite a bit of aggravation due to a combination of construction on the truck bypass and the city's poorly timed traffic lights, I finally escaped and bombed eastward on Hwy 380 towards the state line and into the flickering, odorous haze of Oil Country.

By about the time I reached Brownfield, Tx I realized that this was the fourth year in a row that I found myself chasing birds in southern Texas. Fittingly, given my chosen soundtrack for most of my bird twitches, it was also the weekend of the late Jim Morrison's birthday. This quirk of coincidence kept me entertained as I navigated through Big Spring, angling ever south and eastward towards I-10. As I entered the northern edges of what used to be proper Hill Country before people shredded the habitat for farming, I began to realize just how much easier these chases were from Las Cruces. I took for granted the convenience of hopping on I-10 for 550 miles to San Antonio. Instead I now had to contend with two-lane highways and lots of deer standing menacingly near the shoulder.

Ironically, my one encounter with a deer happened on I-10, somewhere near Boerne (I think). I drove through what only moments earlier had undoubtedly been an intact, living deer standing in the middle of the interstate but was now exploded viscera. A few hundred feet later I rounded a corner to see a semi with its hazard lights flashing and crawling up the shoulder. Lucky for me (though very unlucky for the poor animal) that semi had found the unsuspecting ungulate just a minute or two before, otherwise it probably would have been the end of my twitch, and possibly my life. A little rattled by the realization of what I had narrowly avoided, I took another gulp of coffee and sharpened my focus on the road.

I slid through San Antonio at 3am (my favorite time to roll through large cities) without any problems and made it to I-37 for the home stretch, or so I thought. The 110 or so miles I had to traverse towards Corpus Cristi were mind-numbing, and seemingly every other driver I encountered seemed hell-bent on leaving their high-beams on to blind me. Somehow I managed to stay awake long enough to get to my exit and head south on Hwy 77.

I arrived at the pond across the street from the Riviera School a little before 6am. This gave me about a half an hour to doze off before starting my search for the Fork-tailed Flycatcher (Tyrannus savanna) that had been hanging out in the area for the past several days. The dawn chorus was full of old friends I hadn't heard in over a year since the last time I was in southern Texas. I was pleasantly surprised to see several Green Jays (Cyanocorax yncas) carrying acorns from the trees around town to an unseen cache. A duo of Olive Sparrows (Arremonops rufivirgatus) skulked and called from some brush, one of which finally popped up and posed for a photo after ample pishing on my part.

Olive Sparrow (Arremonops rufivirgatus)

Riviera, Kleberg Co. Tx

Dec. 7, 2019

After about an hour and a half I was joined by two other birders (Willie Sekula and Kim Garwood) who checked the road on the other side of the pond (adjacent to the WTP) and found the bird briefly low in a bush. By the time I got over there though, the bird had disappeared along with its Scissor-tailed Flycatcher (Tyrannus forficatus) companions. Though I was a little annoyed to have missed it, especially since I had been searching that area since dawn, it was a relief to know the bird was still around. About six hours and innumerable circuits checking the places it had been previously seen I needed a break. It seemed to have been more easily seen in the evening at the water treatment ponds, so for the sake of my sanity I decided to check out the nearby Kaufer-Herbert Memorial Park for an hour and come back. I knew I was breaking "Rule Number One" (never leave), but to compromise I decided to do one more circuit before I took my break. Upon rounding the corner of CR 2335 and CR 1070 I noticed two cars pulled off on either side of the road and I looked up at the telephone lines to see the Fork-tailed Flycatcher perched in all its fork-tailed glory.

Fork-tailed Flycatcher (Tyrannus savanna) 

Riviera, Kleberg Co. Tx

Dec. 7, 2019

As I watched the bird from my car, it inexplicably decided to fly closer to me, until it was perched directly in front of me. I had a harder time than I'd like to admit suppressing my urge to evoke Wayne and Garth upon meeting Alice Cooper, but I too felt unworthy of this cathartic experience, undoubtedly exacerbated by the exhaustion and tension of having driven 14 hours only to then spend another six hours searching in circles. The bird eventually moved on and I decided to start bumping north.

After a quick stop at Kaufer-Herbert for some shorebirds on the mudflats (always a good time), I decided to try my luck with traffic and the inevitable sunset by running up to the sod farms outside of Frio Town for Mountain Plovers (Charadrius montanus). I had originally planned on shooting north to try for the continuing Heerman's Gull (Larus heermanni) on Sunday, but negative reports from today made me decide to switch gears.

Despite a few setbacks due to construction, I managed to get to the sod fields about 10 minutes before official sunset. Lucky for me, a single Mountain Plover was visible a few hundred yards off the road, easily identifiable in the scope, but impossible to photograph in the rapidly fading light. Nevertheless, I was happy to add this as species #452 for my Texas list.

From here I continued north, finally getting to Eden, Tx around 10pm where I pulled into the rest stop just west of town and set up for the night. After being up for 40 hrs straight (not quite a personal record) it didn't take long for me to slip into unconsciousness. I awoke shortly before sunrise on Sunday and checked Lee Pfluger Park in Eden for the Red-naped Sapsucker (Sphyrapicus nuchalis) that had been photographed three weeks earlier. I was interested in seeing what the bird looked like now after presumably completing its molt. The photos of the bird from November appeared to show a thick black malar and the retention of some juvenal plumage, which to me seemed like an indication of some Yellow-bellied introgression. Red-naped typically complete their preformative molts by the end of October whereas Yellow-bellied (S. varius) often don't complete this molt until much later (mid to late winter). At least in New Mexico any Red-naped/Yellow-bellied retaining juvenile plumage after November is pretty safe to call a Yellow-bellied, barring indications of hybridization. This Eden sapsucker's lack of any "bleeding" of red from the throat across the malar also seems to suggest hybrid, along with the incomplete and messy red nape. However, I never saw the bird, and considering it had appeared to have *mostly* completed its preformative molt, I can't say it couldn't be a pure Red-naped, it just seemed a little funny to me.

The horrendous SSW wind put a serious damper on my birding for the rest of the day, and I made tracks for home, pulling into my driveway shortly before 5pm, ending my Texas twitch after 49 hours. As usual, my time in the Lone Star State left me wishing I had more time to poke around and explore the diverse habitats and birdlife. Fortunately, come April I plan on doing just that, but in the meantime there is a Northern Shrike (Lanius borealis) in the panhandle that keeps teasing me.

Year of the Ross's Gull: 2018 in Review

While not the rarest bird I saw in 2018, the trio of Ross's Gulls (Rhodostethia rosea) present for several weeks in June in Utqiagvik was an undeniable highlight of my year.

Ultimately, seeing lots of birds in the United States in the Information-Age is not very difficult. More than ever, the limiting factors appear to be time and (maybe more importantly) money. The information age has proved to be a double-edged sword. It allows anyone to have access to an abundance of information instantly. It has also acted to shrink the world we live in, allowing nearly instantaneous communication with other birders over vast distances. While I certainly enjoy the social aspect birding can afford, and I am happy to have made friends from all over the world, this heightened connectivity means that it is harder to avoid birders. The social aspect of birding is not the dominant motivation for my pursuit of bird study, and as often as not, I like to be alone when I'm birding. I am happy to make new friends, and there are times that I appreciate the company of other birders, but my focus is on the birds, not people. While most of my closest friends are birders, I have realized that many of the situations and people that have driven me the craziest this year (and in general) were also birding-related.

It is safe to say that most listers have benefited from cameras and the internet, I certainly have. It isn't a stretch to posit that more vagrants are found, documented, and shared publicly than before the late twentieth century. Photos allow more objective independent review (usually), though I think it is folly to believe that a photo will always replace the importance of a written description. Lighting changes, behavior isn't always captured in a still frame, vocalizations would need to be recorded. Photography is certainly important, but it seems that generally the effort to craft a written description is declining. I have noticed this trend particularly with respect to those twitching vagrants, often with a simple "continuing" providing the only written documentation. While sometimes this is just a placeholder until the traveling birder gets home and can upload photos and/or write a more complete description, just as often this phrase constitutes the entirety of the description. If I've made the effort to chase a bird, I feel I owe it to myself (and perhaps the bird) to make that extra bit of effort to describe the thing. Birders are a diverse and interesting lot, and there is probably an equally diverse suite of reasons people enjoy birding. There are some who want an excuse to travel. Others prefer the competitive aspect of listing. Some may be scientists that wish to learn more about the natural world. There is no "right" way to enjoy birds. All the same, I do wish there were more Harold Axtells in the contemporary world of birding. Perhaps they are out there, I just have yet to find them.

A list can represent a lot to the curator, but represents very little to the beholder. It holds a numerical value, but it has no true worth to anyone but the person who created it. I believe my lists (and I keep many) are representative of the effort I have spent studying species field marks, vocalizations, occurrence, habitat preferences, and my time actually in the field. The places I have travelled. My familiarity with not only the birds themselves, but the places where they occur. Species (including our own) cannot live in a vacuum. While it is possible to compare the value of one person's list to another's, it is impossible to compare the worth of two people's lists as they are incongruous. I can never fully realize the extraneous circumstances that have shaped another person's list, just as they may never fully understand mine.

I mention this because I want to make it clear that this summary was not created with competitive intent for anyone but myself in mind. Some people saw more species than I did in 2018, and others saw fewer. Some went to a greater number of places, some a lesser. Ultimately that doesn't really matter because every birder sees what they see (as juvenile as that statement may sound). Perhaps they misidentified the bird, perhaps they didn't. The point here is to share some of the stories I accumulated over the course of 2018. I enjoy observing and trying to understand birds in their environment. Appreciating the incalculable time and evolutionary pressures that have resulted in the forms and functions we see in modern Aves today. Comparing one of my years to another is one of my favorite things because come January first you never really know where the next 365 days will take you. You may have a general idea, but as the calendar unfolds plans can change, challenges will surface, common species may prove elusive, and vagrants always appear somewhere. Such is the adventure of birding.

At the outset of 2018 I had never expected to see my life Cape May Warbler (Setophaga tigrina) in Colorado in late November, but such is the serendipity of birding

Pueblo City Park, Pueblo County, Colorado

Nov. 20, 2018

In 2018 I managed to see birds in 9 different states and 2 countries (US and Mexico), though I did not officially leave US soil this year. I saw 563 species over the course of the year, 50 of which were new for me bringing my life/US lists to 681 and 654 respectively. 2018 was my last full year of school at New Mexico State University, and I am excited about the prospects of starting a career and exploring more of the world. In May I returned to Utqiagvik (Barrow), Alaska for a third (and final) field season working for Dr. Richard Lanctot (USFWS) and studying shorebird breeding demography. While I am certainly ready to see what other adventures (and birds) the Last Frontier has to offer, the end of this year's field season was bittersweet. I have very much enjoyed working in Barrow, both the birds, the location, and the camaraderie of my fellow crew members while braving difficulties associated with working at a high-arctic field site. This year produced the most outlandish vagrants (out of my three years), and even though the weather was the roughest yet, it was well worth it.

I had set several unofficial goals for myself this year (as I am apt to do). I won't recount all of them, but here are a few of my major ones organized by geographical region.

UNITED STATES (whole)
Break my personal best year total for species (504 from 2017)- 2018 total: 563
     I hadn't explicitly set this goal for myself, but I secretly knew I'd want to improve upon my best total. My over arching goal was to fill in more holes in my life list, and this strategy led me to see a lot of new birds, places and people. By the end of April (when I spent a weekend on the Upper Texas Coast) I was a solid 30-40 species ahead of my pace from 2017 and I figured if I kept the momentum I'd be able to surpass my previous best. I managed to break last year's total in early August while on a boat tour of Kenai Fjords National Park near Seward, AK. I don't know what the bird was that broke my record but I believe it was a Sooty Shearwater (Ardenna grisea).

ALASKA 

• Surpass 1000 complete eBird checklists submitted for North Slope Borough (all time)- total: 1116 

     Is it ridiculous? Kinda. Is it a clear demonstration of my competitive side? Certainly. Do I care? Not really. Complete checklists are the bread-and-butter of eBird, and so I try to break lists down by location as much as I can. By doing this, I can now tell you that demography Plot 8 had the highest species diversity over the three years I was in Barrow and Plot 1 had the lowest. This level of detail is lost if I had lumped all my effort into a single day list. I spend a lot of time in the field (don't we all?) and I feel its only fair that my checklist total reflects this. It takes a lot of time transcribing my lists from my notebook into eBird, but its worth it and the extra effort often helps to self-proof the data.

• Reach 125 species in North Slope Borough (all time)- total: 123. 

     While Barrow is one of the best places on the North Slope for vagrants (this may be an artifact of coverage as much it is geography), it is much different than other parts of the Borough. This limits the number of species one can expect to find (it is the high-arctic) if all of one's North Slope experience is confined to Barrow. While I didn't quite reach my goal, I'm happy with what I did see (I had a job to do in Barrow after all, and it wasn't to go birding all day). There were a few bitter misses (Curlew Sandpiper (Calidris ferruginea) still stings), but I made a lot of friends and caught up with a respectable number of interesting birds. Plus, the birds I could expect to see on any given day included Steller's (Polysticta stelleri) and Spectacled (Somateria fischeri) Eiders, so I can't complain.

The last new North Slope species I saw in Utqiagvik (#123), and by far the rarest bird I saw anywhere in 2018 was this [Siberian] Common Chiffchaff (Phylloscopus collybita tristis) found by my fellow USFWS shorebird crew member and friend Ben Lagasse. It took us a solid 3 days to figure out what it was (mostly because of its battered appearance and habit of keeping its tail cocked like a wren). It was incredibly exciting to see this bird which was a first mainland North American record. I can't think of a better way to end my time in Utqiagvik, thanks to Ben we certainly ended the season on a high note!

Utqiagvik- Nunavak Road Gravel Pit, North Slope, Alaska

Jul. 17, 2018

• Do a lot of Seawatching in Barrow- total cumulative hrs: 148

     Having never lived near the ocean for an extended time I took full advantage of my time in Barrow (and the camp's Swarovski spotting scopes). I spent many a cold 'night' (24 hours of light makes it hard to call it that) standing around with numb fingers and toes, but I can't say I regret it. There are too many highlights for a complete list, but Polar Bears (Ursus maritimus), Belugas (Delphinapterus leucas), Short-tailed Shearwater (Ardenna tenuirostris), Fork-tailed Storm-Petrel (Oceanodroma furcata), and various Alcids are all worth a mention. I also met a colorful cast of locals I happened to meet while staring at the Arctic Ocean. The CIA/Doomsday Conspiracy Theorist (2016), the friendly Beluga Guy (2017 & 2018), and the AR-15 Dude (2018), were all memorable standouts. My time spent scanning the Arctic Ocean surrounding Barrow certainly helped to cement my interest and fondness for marine birds, and helped to shape my desire to work more with this fascinating group of birds.

Northern Fulmars (Fulmarus glacialis) occurred sparingly in July of 2016 and 2017 while I was in Utqiagvik, AK but multiple rafts of hundred(s) of birds appeared in mid to late July of 2018 (likely related to the large die-off further south in the Bering and Chukchi Seas). While it was sad to see so many undoubtedly hungry fulmars, the chance to study this species from shore at close range was interesting (as was investigating the stomachs of deceased birds that had washed up- all of which were empty)

Utqiagvik, North Slope, Alaska

July 27, 2018

CALIFORNIA

• See an Albatross- they're even cooler than I expected

     While I could have accomplished this goal anywhere on the western seaboard (or with great luck on the eastern), I decided to do a pelagic out of Half Moon Bay in order to try for Black-footed Albatross (Phoebastria nigripes) and Buller's Shearwater (Ardenna bulleri) over Labor Day weekend. I had always been somewhat interested in tubenoses since I started birding, but living in land-locked New Mexico made it difficult to really appreciate the group. That changed when I began seawatching in Barrow and went on my first pelagic in San Diego last year. I quickly decided that seabirds were the taxa for me. That said, I felt that before I applied for a bona fide seabird job I needed to see an Albatross. I know its a weird stipulation, but it was worth it. The choppy seas on this particular outing made for an invigorating 10 hours and seeing Albatross in their element, with wind whipping and heaving seas made the experience feel even more genuine.

NEW MEXICO

• Reach 450 state birds before leaving the Land of Enchantment- total 445

Fortunately for me there is still some time to complete this goal. I have very much enjoyed birding in New Mexico. It is where I started out, made friends, and honed my identification skills. Birding New Mexico can't be described as anything but rewarding (or maybe frustrating). The sparse birder-to-area ratio means you could be the only person birding in a county on a particular day, but it also means a likely substantial number of vagrants slip through the cracks. Its a challenge, adventure, and quest all wrapped into one and it forces every motivated state lister to be an active participant, more so than I have noticed for some other more populated states. Chasing will only get you so far, and self-discovered rarities are a crucial component of any New Mexico list. I am proud to have started my birding "career" in New Mexico and look forward to continuing to explore this diverse state.

This Tropical Kingbird (Tyrannus melancholicus) in Carlsbad was NM State bird #441. Note the structure of the bill (longer and thinner) compared to the Couch's below (yes, angle of head is different, but I believe the comparison is still valid).

Lake Carlsbad, Eddy County, New Mexico

Sep. 7, 2018

Never expecting to see both unexpected yellow-bellied Kingbird species in the same year, I was delighted when this Couch's Kingbird (Tyrannus couchii) vocalized vociferously at the Bosque Del Apache NWR Visitor's Center, clinching the ID and becoming my 443rd NM species. Note the markedly stouter appearance to the bill compared to the Tropical above.

Bosque Del Apache NWR- Visitor's Center, Socorro County, New Mexico

Oct. 12, 2018

• Make it into the unofficial "New Mexico County Century Club"

By the end of January 1, 2018 I had seen 102 species in San Juan county, making for 31 New Mexico counties with 100+ species recorded. This left just Guadalupe (96) and Catron (78) with fewer than 100 species. I did a day trip along the Pecos River (south of Santa Rosa) in May before leaving for Alaska which allowed me to break 100 in Guadalupe county (121), and I spent a weekend in Catron county (115) in August which rounded out my 100 species for every one of New Mexico's 33 counties. I find county listing an interesting exercise as it encourages one to study and analyze the perceived habitat requirements of various species and apply this to the habitat present in a given county. Most of New Mexico's counties are rather large (compared to other states) and there are relatively few. Most encompass a fair elevational gradient and contain at least some reliable water bodies. Ultimately, New Mexico county listing requires strategic timing and effort in a wide variety of habitats and I find this type of exploration most rewarding. It also encourages coverage of counties that are seldom visited, and if it were not for this desire to cover different counties, Nancy Hetrick, Christopher Rustay, and I would not have stumbled upon New Mexico's first record Orange-billed Nightingale-Thrush (Catharus aurantiirostris) in Nutria Canyon, McKinley County back in 2015. While that is certainly an extreme example, county listing can be more motivation to get you out into new and exciting places.

• Break 300 County Birds in Dona Ana County before graduating from NMSU- total: 300

For the most part I have enjoyed birding in Dona Ana County, though the largest reliable body of water in the county (Burn Lake) became defunct well before I arrived, making many formerly reliable waterbirds very difficult to find. This severely handicapped my list, as did my absence from the county during the summer months (though I'd much rather be in the Arctic than Las Cruces during the summer). I think if I had spent time in the Organ Mountains in the summer I would have been able to add several interesting species. While there are a several birders in the Las Cruces area, it still feels like a fairly under-birded county. In recent years the West Mesa Grasslands (part of the Organ Mountains-Desert Peaks National Monument) have received inconsistent coverage, as have higher elevations of the Organ Mountains (e.g. Aguirre Springs). Even so, the southerly position, wide elevational gradient, and inclusion of the Rio Grande has made it an exciting county to explore.

Only a second record for Dona Ana County, this Magnolia Warbler (Setophaga magnolia) was a one-day-wonder in the yard of Marcy Scott and Jimmy Zabriskie who were kind enough to notify me of its presence. Only the second individual of this species I'd seen in New Mexico, it was an unexpected and colorful addition to my DAC list this fall. 

Radium Springs, Dona Ana County, New Mexico

Oct. 15, 2018

Keeping with a "theme" of unexpected eastern vagrants added to my Dona Ana County list this year was a male Ruby-throated Hummingbird (Archilochus colubris) that spent several days at a feeder on the east side of Las Cruces. Many thanks to Tim Lawton for allowing me to visit his yard to see this bird.

Las Cruces, Dona Ana County, New Mexico

Sep. 14, 2018

Number 300 came in the form of an immature Harris's Sparrow (Zonotrichia querula) I managed to track down on December 31st (after trying and failing to locate it on the 30th).

Dona Ana County 300: Harris's Sparrow (Zonotrichia querula) not a great photo, but a it felt nice to hit my goal nevertheless

Dec. 31, 2018

TEXAS

• Break 400 state birds- total: 443

The Lone Star state is a pretty cool place, and there's a lot I enjoy about travelling in Texas. The speed limits are swift, the drivers (while fast) are often courteous. There are Armadillos, Alligators, and lots of birds. Living near El Paso has made Texas listing a little easier, as I have easy access to many species that are geographically unique among the panoply of Texas avifauna. Conveniently, many of the "eastern" birds I needed for my Texas state list were also potential life birds for me, which made the effort to find them more about building my life list than just state listing. I used this logic to justify several multi-day trips to Texas this year, including a visit to the Upper Texas Coast in late April to witness the passage of neotropical migrants across the Gulf of Mexico. The parade of colorful passerines was veritable eye-candy, and the antics of a flock of Buff-breasted Sandpipers (Calidris subruficollis) near Anahuac NWR was captivating. As luck would have it, I would visit the Lone Star State on 4 separate multi-day trips in 2018, visiting the LRGV three times, stopping in the Edward's Plateau three times, the Upper Texas Coast twice, and the Piney Woods of Eastern Texas once. I also made half a dozen day trips in western Texas, mostly in El Paso and Hudspeth counties.

My 2018 birding in Texas began much as my 2017 Texas birding had ended, searching for a Snowy Owl (Bubo scandiacus). This time however, I was much more successful after John Groves and I relocated this female/immature bird that had been hanging around a megachurch in Odessa (because of course it was). 

Odessa, Ector County, Texas

Jan. 28, 2018 

Not a great photo, but this Swainson's Warbler (Limnothlypis swainsonii) was my 400th Texas state bird and one of the species I had most wanted to add to my life list during my trip to the Upper Texas Coast in late April

Sabine Woods, Jefferson County, Texas

Apr. 28, 2018

Closing Thoughts
I know many people who christen a year based on the first bird they see. By that metric my 2018 would have been the year of the American Crow (Corvus brachyrhynchos). I have nothing against Crows, but after encountering 563 species across North America this year the one species with which I had the most memorable experience was the Ross's Gull. I was lucky to see the two (and later three) Ross's several times during their June tenure at the end of Fresh Water Lake road in Utqiagvik, Alaska. I was able to share the experience with several birders (and on some occasions I had the gulls to myself). The last time I watched them was the most intimate, as I was alone at midnight, with a dark cloud from moving in on 25 mph arctic winds from the north. A blazing "sunset" to my west threw a soft warm glow on one of the birds as it picked at large black worms from puddles near my feet. I watched this Ross's Gull for nearly two hours as it fed and called several times, even taking flight to chase the pair. I'll never forget the way these birds sashayed around as if they knew they were the show-stealers, occasionally squabbling with a Sabine's Gull (Xema sabini). At any other time watching a Sabine's under these conditions would be enough to make my night, but not so with Rosea le' petite (as one visiting birder called them, I may have butchered the spelling) in attendance.

By the time I finally forced myself to leave it was 2am and I had lost feeling in my toes. My nose stung painfully. My fingers were difficult to flex, stiff as they were with cold. The sky was a brooding dull cobalt, as dark as it ever gets in Utqiagvik during the summer. The skies threw snow fitfully and this weak attempt at precipitation was buffeted by the bitter stinging winds. I don't know if or when I'll see another Ross's Gull, but this was by far one of my favorite birding experiences of all time. There is something about seeing a species such as this in the environment for which it evolved that feels "right." I found myself wondering how the pressures of an Arctic existence could have possibly produced such an organism. Why had it needed the bright vermillion legs? The thin black necklace? the pointed tail? The rose-colored blush? How might these marks convey the fitness of a particular individual? If the modern Larid phylogeny is to be believed, how did the most recent common ancestor of Sabine's and Ross's Gulls so quickly diverge to occupy niches within an Arctic that has only occurred in its present form for a relatively short period of time?
My questions were met only with the howl of an Arctic wind and the occasional thin rattled call from the Ross's Gull at my feet. Perhaps that's all the answer I can hope for.

I couldn't help but imagine James Clark Ross, standing on a wooden ship in the Arctic Ocean with a similarly bitter arctic wind while near the Melville Peninsula of Nunavut, Canada in 1823. Seeing a peculiar looking gull flying naively near the ship, he collects it. I'd like to think the polar explorer was just as enraptured by this "Cuneate-tailed" gull when he saw it as I was nearly two centuries later.

I don't know where 2019 will take me, but you can bet that dawn on January 1st will find me looking at a bird somewhere.
I hope 2019 finds you birding somewhere too!
Cheers and Happy Birding!

Watching this Ross's Gull pick at worms in a puddle virtually at my feet was beyond surreal and I was afraid to breathe for fear it might fly away. Fortunately it was content to pick at invertebrates despite a consistent 20 mph wind blast of Arctic wind coming from the north. By the time I left this site at midnight I was unable to feel my fingers or toes, making for an uncomfortable ATV ride home. I'm not sure when I'll have another chance to witness one of these denizens of the Arctic in their natural habitat, making it all worth it. 

Utqiagvik- Freshwater Lake Road, North Slope, Alaska

Jun 

Roadside Blues

"Keep your eyes on the road, your hands upon the wheel," Jim Morrison instructed helpfully as I nosed down I-10, passing exit 537 for Boerne, Texas. The rain had begun to let up, but recent construction meant no shoulder and cement barriers on either side of the highway. Barriers that felt uncomfortably close. I appreciated Jim's help all the same, though I was more concerned with him providing his usual luck in helping me see the bird I was travelling 800 odd miles to see (and avoid hitting a deer at 80 miles per hour). Perhaps a more apt song choice would have been "Riders on the Storm."

"I'm going for the Roadside, gonna have a real. Good time!" I pantomimed. It may be superstitious, but there are certain "lucky" songs I've grown accustomed to playing while chasing birds. In observance of what has now become a ritual of sorts, I listened to the songs like old friends while the pavement pounded rhythmically under my tires. "let it roll, baby roll," Jim continued as I drank another gulp of tepid coffee. I'd been travelling for about 7 hours, and while I felt quite alert, I knew the hardest part (navigating San Antonio) was yet to come. Lucky for me it would be no earlier than 10:00pm by the time I reached the city of The Alamo, and traffic was light.
"All night long," I helped him finish, bobbing my head with the flourish of notes on the keyboard and wailing of the harmonica that followed.

After snatching about 4 hours of sleep (not bad for a Valley chase) I arrived at the "spot" to stake out the Roadside Hawk (Rupornis magnirostris) that had been reported nearly daily here since mid-November. The sky was wet and gray. A fine misting rain fell off and on in the dim overcast dawn light.

Levee behind (south) of the Border Patrol Stables. Heavy construction noise was audible from nearby the entire time I was present, and while it wasn't directly related to the construction of a the "border wall," in just two short months those same machines will be turned to the coastal scrub habitat that now borders the Rio Grande in this area. 

Dec. 7, 2018

Long story short, my first day staking out the border patrol stables and levee between the National Butterfly Center and Bentsen-Rio Grande SP was decidedly not a real good time. I spent the entire day traipsing back and forth on the levee, periodically checking the snag behind the stables. It was a wet and blustery morning. By noon I was sodden and my boots were caked in a dense layer of mud. While I did manage to find a few good county birds (including Golden-crowned Kinglet (Regulus satrapa), I did not see the Roadside Hawk or any Hook-billed Kites despite searching for 9.5 hours. I decided to return the next morning and just stake out the snag behind the stables all morning if need be. My theory is that the bird never came to its "typical" roost tree because of the rain that lasted from dawn until about 10:30am. I saw several other raptors (an immature Broad-winged (Buteo platypterus) and Gray (Buteo plagiatus) Hawk both took the perch later in the morning). The relatively few other obsevers (it was a Friday) may have also played a role.
I couldn't complain too much though. I was finished with my penultimate semester at New Mexico State University and was birding in the Lower Rio Grande Valley.

While not my target, it was nonetheless nice to see this immature Red-shouldered Hawk (Buteo lineatus) perched nearby

Lower Rio Grande Valley NWR (Border Patrol Corral and Levee), Hidalgo County, TX

Dec. 7, 2018

By the end of the day I was exhausted and beginning to get worried. I had thought I'd heard the hawk, and perhaps glimpsed it briefly, but I wasn't going to count it. The last time I chased a bird in the LRGV in December I got a winter snow storm and dipped on a Green-breasted Mango (Anthracothorax pervostii) for my troubles. Was I destined to have poor luck once again in December? I quelled my growing unease and arrived once again at the stakeout site at dawn on Saturday morning. This time I walked down Military Road to a spot where I could clearly see the bird's preferred snag behind the Border Patrol Stables. There were a few others present. I had gotten a tip from my friend Bob Friedrichs that the bird often perched in the snag between 8:00am and 8:30am. With that in mind I had decided to be patient and wait. It beat marching back and forth on the levee anyway. Another person present mentioned hearing that the hawk "actually likes to show up between 7:00am and 7:30am," to roost. I nodded silently. Regardless, I was resolved to watch the snag.

While it was more than a hundred yards away, it was pretty easy to observe all of the pertinent field marks of this obliging Roadside Hawk (Rupornis magnirostris)

Lower Rio Grande Valley NWR (Border Patrol Stables and Levee), Hidalgo County, Tx

Dec. 8, 2018

7:30am had come and gone and several people present were getting antsy. I may have mentioned this before, but there are certain rules and rituals I like to abide by while I'm birding, especially chasing. Rule #1 is "never leave." There is some nuance here, and one should still try to be savvy when anticipating what a bird is going to do, but if you're staking out a bird and know its probably still around, don't leave the site. Don't leave for lunch, don't look for a different bird somewhere else and come back, don't leave the area unless you're giving up. You've expended all of this effort to look for a bird, so why would you leave the area where its being seen?
This rule is related to the so-far-unnamed phenomenon in which the target bird often appears shortly after someone looking for it has left.

It was about 7:40am, and one woman present said she wanted to walk the levee "since the bird hasn't come." I was largely ignoring this exchange as another birder was saying they should exchange numbers in case the bird did appear. As if on cue, I saw a dark raptor swoop in and land in the snag. There was some momentary confusion among the birders present as to whether it was the bird (it did look pretty large when flying in, but the tail looked too long to me to be any Buteo). Once the bird was in a scope however, the identity of the hawk was obvious.

The longish banded tail, dark coloration across most of the underparts (with distinctive heavy vertical streaks on the upper breast and finer horizontal barring on the lower breast and belly), prominent white supercilium terminating shortly behind the eye, and the thin, almost whiny call notes all sealed the deal on this Roadside Hawk. It was kind enough to sit from 7:42am to 8:14am before descending into the scrub behind the stables to hunt.

I can't help but describe this hawk as anything but "cute." Like a mix between a Buteo and an Accipiter, the longish banded tail and small head and bill (as well as the small size) give it a distinctive structural appearance.

Lower Rio Grande Valley NWR, Hidalgo County, Tx

Dec. 8, 2018

After watching the perched Roadside, I spent another 2 hours walking on the levee hoping to see one of several Hook-billed Kites (Chondrohierax uncinatus) that seemed to be hanging around this area as well. This species has been the most difficult of the "regular" LRGV species for me to track down (as I imagine it is for many birders). I didn't see any kites by the time the sky decided to open up and a persistent rain began to fall. I took this as my signal to leave and began heading northeastward.

My plan was to reach Victoria, Tx before nightfall, but first I wanted to hit Delta Lake in Hidalgo County. I was within 15 species of 200 in this county and still needed several water bird species. I was fortunate enough to run into Dan Jones while scanning the lake, allowing for some idle bird conversation while the rain misted from the heavy clouds above. My 200th species came mere yards from the Willacy County line as I continued north, a Western Meadowlark jetting across the road. This was my first Texas county to break 200.

My next stop was less than a mile east of Ricardo, Kleberg county on FM 1118. Here I relocated a Whooping Crane (Grus americana) feeding with a small group of Sandhill Cranes (Antigone canadensis) less than 25 feet off the road. I couldn't help but lament that I was watching one of North America's rarest birds, and silently thanked Robert Allen. It would not be an exaggeration to say that Allen is largely responsible for saving the remaining wild Whooping Cranes in the 1940's and 1950's. If it weren't for the efforts of this individual, it is unlikely I would have been afforded the opportunity to see this majestic species nearly eight decades later. More people have come since Allen, and I owe them gratitude as well, but Allen is the one who started the momentum. A similar story can be told of the efforts to recover the Short-tailed Albatross (Phoebastria albatrus). While it is easy to be pessimistic when considering the state of wildlife and conservation both globally and nationally, encounters like this one are reasons for optimism in my mind. Whooping Cranes are by no means out of the woods yet, and the hubristic tendencies of humanity continue to endanger far more species than we have "saved." That said, I think its important to recognize the success stories of wildlife and conservation which lend validity to other attempts to recover imperiled species. To me the saddest day is not necessarily the day a species actually passes the threshold and slips past the event horizon in the vortex of extinction, but rather, it is the day we collectively stop caring about losing the species. I concede that extinction (whether it is of a species, or a population) is a natural process and to recover species is, in effect, disrupting this process. Human-caused extinction is, by definition, just as "natural" as a nameless species winking out on a random island in the Pacific Ocean, but for whatever reason it just feels different.

One of the rarest birds in North America and my choice for a National Symbol

Whooping Crane (Grus americana)

Ricardo- FM 1118, Kleberg County, Tx

Dec. 8, 2018

Continuing northward, I stopped in the town of Beeville for gas. I was disappointed to find the Veterans Park was closed, but I managed to add some county birds nonetheless (I had never birded in this county before). I had much better luck at Branch Nature Park in Goliad, also a new county. Here I was interested to find a female Golden-fronted Woodpecker (Melanerpes aurifrons) calling and working some Live Oaks. I had imagined I was approaching the eastern edge of this species range. Looking at an eBird occurrence map after the fact I discovered that Victoria appears to be the eastern edge of the species' regular range in this portion of the state.
I noticed a few Mourning Doves (Zenaida macroura) as I entered Victoria county, filling in those three empty spaces on the Texas Counties map.

Next dawn found me at San Bernard NWR. I managed to see 80 some species in Brazoria county back in March during my Spring Break trip and I was hoping to break 100 in the county on this trip. I was able to relocate a Rusty Blackbird (Euphagus carolinus) that had been reported over the past few weeks near the observation deck on the Moccasin Pond Loop, which was a Texas state bird. I left the refuge via the Rail Pond road which yielded a nice mixed flock. I was surprised to find a bobbing Northern Waterthrush (Parkesia noveboracensis). A flyover American Pipit (Anthus rubescens) as I was leaving the refuge was Brazoria County bird 100.

Spartina spp "meadow" on either side of Crab Road in Surfside, Brazoria County, Tx

Dec. 9, 2018

My next stop was Surfside. I not only needed quite a few marine water bird species for Brazoria, and I was hoping to add at least two birds to my Texas List. Following a lead kindly provided by Bob Friedrichs, I made my way to Crab Road in Surfside where I parked and began walking. It was overcast, cold, and quite blustery. I was having a hard time hearing anything but I walked up the road, pishing and watching for any sparrows that might pop up from the dense patches of Spartina grass on either side of the road.

I was about halfway down the road and the wind was disheartening. I had noticed one or two sparrows diving into the grass but the views were too brief to identify the birds to species. As I was contemplating turning back I happened to glance down in front of me to see two Nelson's Sparrows (Ammospiza nelsoni) flitting around a few feet from me in the grasses. This was not only a Texas State bird, but it was also the first time I'd seen the species since seeing my life bird in San Diego back in 2014. I very much enjoy the "Ammodramus" tribe of sparrows, not only because of the inherent difficulty in detecting them, but they are also quite prettily patterned in their own (often subtly) way. I cringe every time I hear someone dismissively use the phrase "Little Brown Job," especially when projected towards this group. To me it projects laziness on behalf of the observer. I don't expect everyone to appreciate every group of birds the same. I for one am not hugely interested in raptors, and while I can certainly appreciate the variability of Red-tailed Hawk (Buteo jamaicensis) races and subspecies, I do not feel inclined to delve into the peculiars of every Red-tailed I see. Even so, I would never dismissively call a Red-tailed a "Big Brown Hawk," and ignore it entirely.

Subtle but gorgeous Nelson's Sparrow (Ammospiza nelsoni) 

Surfside- Crab Road, Brazoria County, Tx

Dec. 9, 2018

After enjoying the contrasting cold gray and warm buffy tones of the Nelson's, I turned my attention to the Surfside Jetty. I had hoped to take advantage of what seems to be a great fall/winter so far for Black Scoters (Melanitta americana) on the coast of Texas. While it was cold and windy, it didn't take me long to pick out a group of at least 5 Black Scoters (3 female/immature types and 2 males) forming a small flotilla on the north/east side of the jetty. Not only was it nice to have found my own Black Scoters, but these were Texas bird #440.

I then turned northward, stopping for gas in the town of Brazoria, allowing me to add a Carolina Chickadee (Poecile carolinensis) in Brazoria County. I ended with 121 species in Brazoria.
Continuing north I stopped at Brazos Bend SP to bird Fort Bend County for the first time. It was here I was able to find my first "woodland" species for the trip, including Red-bellied Woodpecker (Melanerpes carolinus) and Tufted Titmouse (Baeolophus bicolor). I managed to make it to Columbus, Tx by dark.

Morning found me driving through Bastrop County where I was able to pick up a handful of species, my first for the county. After fighting my way through traffic in Austin, I found myself at Commons Ford Metropolitan Park, where I had hoped to find a LeConte's Sparrow (Ammospiza leconteii). After only a few minutes of searching I noticed one, and then two, and then three perched near the tops of several Bluestem grasses within the restored tallgrass prairie portion of the park.

A life bird, this gorgeous LeConte's Sparrow (Ammospiza leconteii) sat up for several minutes, calling all the while. The soft contrast between the lavender blush of the nape and the golden wash across the face was even more impressive than I expected.

Commons Ford Metropolitan Park, Travis County, Tx

Dec. 10, 2018

Seeing LeConte's means the only regular U.S. sparrows I haven't yet seen are Henslow's (Centronyx henslowii) and Saltmarsh (Ammospiza caudacuta). I also managed to find several calling Sedge Wrens (Cistothorus platensis) within this small grassland patch. I was unable to locate any Eastern Towhees (Pipilo erythrophthalmus) or the Green-tailed Towhee (Pipilo chlorurus) that had been reported here recently, though I found scant in the way of directions on most eBird checklists, and having never been to this place before I wasn't really sure where to look. Despite this I ended the morning with nearly 50 species and started to hustle towards Lubbock, Tx. While I had most of the counties between here and the NM state line at Clovis covered, there were a few that I had still never reported any birds from, so I took the opportunity to fill in those gaps on my way north. This included a stop at Richard's Park in Brady, McCulloch County. I was greeted by a freakishly friendly pride of young cats that someone may have recently dropped off (or were just used to being fed by ill-informed but good-meaning citizens). Despite the feline predators I found quite a few birds.

I always find it interesting how the break down of "eastern" : "western" : "southern" species falls out in different areas within the central portion of Texas. However, as I continued north I noticed the increasingly cultivated areas compared to oak-juniper woodland. Eventually I seemed to break out into the proper plains habitat (mostly agriculture and oil/gas development) in Taylor and Nolan counties. I made it to the town of Post by sunset.

Lubbock sunrise from Clapp Park, Lubbock County, Tx

Dec. 11, 2018

 A fiery sunrise illuminated about two inches of snow blanketing the town of Lubbock, Tx. I was lucky to have missed the large storm that dumped the frozen precipitation a few days earlier. I worked my way around Clapp Park for the better park of an hour. I found many of the "expected" panhandle species, though was disappointed to find the pond largely frozen. I still saw several waterfowl circling overhead (apparently having roosted elsewhere during the night). I was unable to locate the Gray Catbirds (Dumetella carolinensis) that had been seen for several days, but I ended up with about 30 species and it was nice to see snow again. I also checked Maxey Park, which had a pond that, for whatever reason, wasn't frozen. Here I found a sizable raft of Hooded Mergansers (Lophodytes cucullatus), Ring-billed Gulls (Larus delawarensis), and two Double-crested Cormorants (Phalacrocorax auritus). 

The remainder of the drive to the New Mexico state line was relatively uneventful. I added my first species to both Hockley and Lamb counties, which was nice. I also found my 443rd Texas State bird, a Townsend's Solitaire (Myadestes townsendi) calling near Laguna Park in Littlefield. This apparently represents a first record for Lamb county on eBird, though I am sure they are at least somewhat regular in this area in the colder months (at least if records from nearby counties are any indication). With this Solitaire, my 2200 mile circuit produced 176 total species, 7 Texas state birds, and 2 life birds. I added 12 new counties, broke 100 species in Brazoria, and hit 200 species in Hidalgo (my first Texas county to do so).

I had hopped to find my Texas state Townsend's Solitaire (Myadestes townsendi) on this trip through the panhandle, but I was still surprised to find this noisy Townsend's Solitaire

Laguna Park, Littlefield, Lamb County, Tx

Dec. 11, 2018

While I suppose there is a slim chance I may end up back in the Lone Star state before the end of 2018, I don't expect returning until after the New Year. With that in mind I was able to come up with the following statistics summarizing my efforts in Texas for 2018 as of mid-December:
Texas State List: 443
New Species added to Texas State List in 2018: 73
Life birds seen in Texas in 2018: 27
Total Texas counties with at least one bird recorded: 130
Total Texas counties with 100+ species: 10
Total Texas counties with at least one bird seen in 2018: 74
New Texas counties added in 2018: 49

I think I probably ended up driving about 10,000 miles in Texas over the course of 2018. I was able to observe (seen and/or heard) 373 species. I spent about 15 days birding in Texas this year, which is more than I have in previous years. I look forward to trying to break at least 450 Texas species in 2019 (all time).

A Texas Twitch

Masked Booby (Sula dactylatra) immature (near adult) 

South Padre Island-Pier 19, Cameron County, Texas

Oct. 5, 2018

By now I knew the drill, I'd hop on I-10 with a full tank of gas, fight through El Paso, and refuel in Fort Stockton. Next stop would be near Boerne, and that would take me into the Lower Rio Grande Valley with a third of a tank to spare. I even had 33 hours worth of 'A Clash of Kings' on audible to keep me occupied. Given the forecast, I wouldn't be faced with a snow storm en route like last December, but two vicious rain squalls were just as scary albeit much more brief. I encountered the rain outside of Van Horn, Texas and at one point I couldn't see more than a few yards in front of me. It was the worst rain I've ever encountered, but by the time I reached an exit I could pull off onto I had reached the other side of the isolated storm front. I didn't feel comfortable just pulling off to the side thinking I might get rammed by another car. Disaster averted, it was smooth sailing into the Valley.

When the Golden-crowned Warbler (Basileuterus culicivorus) was found and photographed the week before at Frontera Audubon Center in Weslaco, Tx I was unfortunately unable to chase it that weekend, instead having to wait. This turned out to be fortuitous timing as the third (and first chaseable) record White-crowned Pigeon (Patagioenas leucocephala) was discovered on South Padre Island shortly before I departed Las Cruces and a Masked Booby (Sula dactylatra) just a few blocks from the Pigeon was being reported reliably. With the stars aligned and enough lifer points to spare, I hit the road and hoped to clinch a bird I has tried a few times before to see but had managed to dip every time (the warbler). I had tried for the 2015-2016 Golden-crowned at Lions Shelley Park in Refugio, Tx but apparently an out-of-state birder had been playing a tape for that bird the entire morning before we (Roger Clark and I) got there, so we unsurprisingly didn't locate it. Though several others have been reported since then, the timing had not been conducive for me to chase most.

In keeping with tradition I made sure the playlist for my trip south included Waylon Jennings' 'Luckenbach Texas". And as per usual the lyrics sparked a philosophical debate as to the meaning of the chorus. This kept my mind busy for the next hour or so as I battled my way through the convoluted interchanges of San Antonio, ultimately coming to the same conclusion I always do: if "ain't nobody feelin' no pain," then in fact everyone would be feeling pain. That said, I'm assuming Jennings' wasn't much concerned with grammar, but maybe he was, and is secretly trying to convey the ubiquitous misery of those in Luckenbach. Maybe if the residents of Luckenback knew that Black-capped Vireos (Vireo atricapilla) and Golden-cheeked Warblers (Setophaga chrysoparia) could be found nearby they'd feel a little less pain.

Golden-crowned Warbler (Basileuterus culicivorus) 

Frontera Audubon Center, Hidalgo County, Texas

Oct. 5, 2018

Dawn found me at Donna's Reservoir killing time and looking for some hidalgo county birds. After about half an hour I made my way to Frontera Audubon Center which didn't open until 8:00am. Upon walking the trail I starting hearing a peculiar rapid scolding call that I initially mistook for a Winter Wren (Troglodytes hiemalis) though it seemed early for one this far south. A few moments later a chunky passerine came bombing towards me seemingly in response to my pishing, giving the angry "tip!" call notes. I was taken aback to discover it was the Golden-crowned Warbler with slaty-blue upperparts and glowing citrusy-green underparts. My other chases at Frontera had usually involved grueling all-day stake-outs as I suspect many of the vagrants that frequent this location also use the surrounding neighborhoods and are not always easy to track down. This at least seemed to be the case for the Tropical Parula (Setophaga pitiayumi), Blue Bunting (Cyanocompsa parellina) and Crimson-collared Grosbeak (Rhodothraupis celaeno) I had chased here in the past with varying degrees of success. Regardless, I silently thanked this bird for being so pugnacious and confiding.

I watched the bird for a few minutes and got some recordings before I decided it was time to fight my way out to South Padre Island. While I don't typically think of pigeons and large doves as being skittish (Ground-Doves and Quail-Doves notwithstanding), I was worried that the throngs of birders hoping to tick this pigeon for their Texas list might make it shy. Fortunately, Javi Gonzales was doing an excellent job at crowd control and the bird seems as placid as one might expect a large tropical pigeon to be. I arrived at the South Padre Birding and Nature Center around 10:00 and found a few birders clustered around the bird's favorite tree. It was apparently roosting, but tucked up in the branches, the only way to see it well requiring one to crawl up under the tree. There were a few other birders there doing just that, but Javi mentioned it liked to come out when it wasn't being pressed upon by gawking observers. As if hearing this the bird fluttered up and buried itself deeper in the foliage. The birders under the tree seemed to give up and leave, getting only obstructed views (I assume they saw it, but who knows). Meanwhile I stood with another birder a few feet back next to a shrub waiting for the bird to come out. A few other birders came and went. I was pretty tired from the drive the night before, hungry, and admittedly not in the most cordial mood. The parade of people coming and getting close to the bird's roost was beginning to really irritate me (I had a few choice words for some when the bird started to act agitated). After about half an hour it was just me a few others standing back from the tree waiting. Not five minutes later the bird descended from the tree and began preening, giving more-or-less unobstructed views when laying down.

White-crowned Pigeon (Patagioenas leucocephalus) Immature

South Padre Island Birding and Nature Center, Cameron County, Tx

Oct. 5, 2018

I watched the bird for another half hour, eventually paying the price in chigger bites, but it was certainly worth it. I had been prepared for a large columbid, but I was a little surprised by how large this bird was. The fact that it is a young bird seems to support a post-breeding dispersal hypothesis. I'm not sure if there are any observable differences between those White-crowneds in the Yucatan versus Florida/Caribbean, but it would be interesting to know where this bird came from. There didn't seem to be any major weather disturbance associated with its discovery and the relatively conspicuous location makes me think it was probably discovered relatively quickly after it first arrived.

After my fun with the pigeon I made my way to Pier 19 a few miles south. I'd stayed at the KOA two years before with family so it was fun to find myself back at this spot. I walked into the restaurant looking disheveled and in full birding regalia (replete with goofy wide-brimmed hat, notebook, binoculars, and camera). The woman at the front immediately asked me if I was here to see the Booby and led me out to the pier behind the establishment. This bird had become quite the recent celebrity, and the Pier 19 staff seemed bemused by the funnily named bird because, as one mentioned, "it wasn't Spring Break yet." Mildly embarrassed, I explained the origin of the name and some of the unique physiological adaptations sulids use to forage and survive at sea. They all seemed pretty enthusiastic about learning this information and seemed to have a greater respect for their avian visitor.

Making my way out to the pier I found the bird's favorite spot occupied by only half a dozen Brown Pelicans (Pelecanus occidentalis). I settled in to wait, guessing the bird might eventually come back, or might just be out of view. The sun was warm and the shade at the very end of the pier (inaccessible to me) looked inviting. A few other birders came and went. After an hour I found myself alone, watching some Ospreys (Pandion haliaetus) and listening to the cries of Laughing Gulls (Leucophaeus atricilla). I looked back at the pier and just like that the near-adult Masked Booby was looking back at me. My guess is before it had been hunkered in the shadows out-of-view.

Masked Booby (Sula dactylatra) Immature

South Padre Island-Pier 19, Cameron County, Tx

Oct. 5, 2018

The bird sat and tousled its feathers some before dropping onto an apparent perch on the far side of the pier, once again out-of-view. This didn't last for long however, as the bird then flew a few dozen yard out into the water and began bathing and drinking. It was exciting getting to watch this bird from close range and note the bill color and structure. I had observed a Nazca Booby Sula granti) around this time last year on a pelagic off of San Diego, California so internalizing the differences between the two species was a nice exercise. I watched the bird splash about in the turquoise water really happy to have seen a new world seabird. While I hope to see many more (probably thousands) if I ever end up studying seabirds in the South Pacific, it was still a thrill to see this one.

I thanked the Pier 19 staff for letting me out on the pier and headed westward. I had the afternoon so I went over to Estero Llano Grande SP to look for a few year birds and build my Hidalgo county life list a bit. I had the park to myself and after a chat with a friendly ranger I set off on the trails. This had been the first place I'd visited in the Valley on my first trip to this part of Texas in August of 2015 with my friend Roger Clark. It was nice to be back to this park after three years. I was pleased to find the Plain Chachalacas (Ortalis vetula) were just as entertaining and bewildering as the first time I'd seen them 3 years ago, and I found myself wondering if these might be the same individuals I'd seen as my life Chachalacas.
After getting directions I managed to find the cavity where a resident McCall's Eastern Screech Owl (Megascops asio mccallii) was poking his head out sleepily. While I'd heard the species before, this was my first time seeing an Eastern Screech-Owl. I wandered around until closing time. It was warm and windy, but I managed to track down quite a few species.

Eastern Screech-Owl (McCall's) (Megascops asio mccallii)

Estero Llano Grande SP, Hidalgo County, Tx

Oct. 5, 2018

Not the greatest photo, but I had to contend with foliage because I didn't want to get too close to the bird

Saturday morning found me at Bentsen-Rio Grande Valley SP before light, walking towards the Hawk Watch tower. I was hoping to track down a Hook-billed Kite (Chondrohierax uncinatus) which was the last of the "reliable" (at least formerly) Valley species I'd yet to see. I made it to the tower at 8:00am and settled in with the 6 or 7 others that were there. We didn't find any Hook-billed Kites, but the migrating Broad-winged Hawks (Buteo platypterus) put on quite the show. At least 2,000 were seen taking off and moving overhead during the 4.5 hours I watched. I was also able to add a fair number of species to my Mexico list. As things began to lull as noon approached I got to chat with Dan Gesualdo who is doing a 2018 Lower 48 Big Year. While I'm not really a fan of US Big Years anymore it was fun talking to Dan and we'd chased many of the same birds this year and in years past. I can appreciate a Lower 48 Year, especially since the emphasis the past few years has been on the US (and with Hawaii added... well I think a Lower 48 Year is pretty neat). Dan mentioned doing 22 pelagic trips thus far this year which I can certainly respect and it got me thinking about the prospects of doing an entirely Pelagic Big Year. If I had the funds to drop on something like a serious Big Year I think it would be fun and challenging to see how many species I could find from a boat, and rather than stick to US waters, might as well include the entire 75% of the planet covered in water. I'm not sure its ever been done before, which for me is way more exciting than trying to break someone else's record. But, different strokes for different folks.

After a full morning on the tower I began to make my way northward, stopping at various hotspots along the Rio Grande as I went (Salineno, San Ygnacio, etc...) Dark found me at Lake Amistad Recreation Area outside of Del Rio.

I've liked Val Verde County ever since I stopped there in December 2017 on the way back from my failed Mango chase (thanks winter storm Benji). The curious mix of East, South, and Edward's Plateau avifauna is enticing, and the apparent low birding coverage of this county is also exciting. I wanted to cover Devil's river SNA, but I needed to get home in good season so I decided to poke around Del Rio instead. I was at Rincon del Diablo before dawn hoping to hear a Barred Owl (Strix varia) but had no such luck. Sunrise found me birding along Vega Verde Rd under low hanging gray clouds and spitting rain, but this meant it was easy to pick out several dozen Chimney Swifts (Chaetura pelagica) flying around. I was also able to add a few birds to my Coahuila and Mexico lists, which was nice. The most unexpected bird of the morning along this road was a singing Audubon's Oriole (Icterus graduacauda) near an abandoned house with a dead pine tree in the yard. The deep melodic warbled notes were unlike any other Oriole I've heard. This is why I enjoy Val Verde so much, many of the Valley species reach their northern terminus here, and some unexpected Valley species occasionally find there ways up here as well. Unfortunately much of this land (as is the case with most of Texas) is private, so its difficult to know for sure how abundant some of these species are.

I found my way back to Rincon del Diablo where I was able to track down my target, two of the newly christened Morelet's Seedeaters (Sporophila morelleti). These were the first good looks I'd ever gotten of the species, which was nice, and I couldn't help but think of the Dwight Shrute's eccentric cousin from the American version of The Office when I wrote the species' banding code in my notebook.

I managed to find a few other species around town and ended up with 103 species in Val Verde at the conclusion of my visit. I searched for Green Jay (Cyanocorax yncas) with no luck. From what I've read this may be more of a winter species this far north, but I figured some may be arriving already. Devil's River SNA will have to wait, but hopefully not for too long. A quick check of Imperial Reservoir on my way through Fort Stockton failed to yield the Red Phalarope (Phalaropus fulicarus) that had been found a day or two before, but my scope is not very good and the afternoon light was difficult. I managed to track down three US/Canada life birds on this trip along with actually seeing a few species for the first time (Screech-Owl and Seedeater).
As usual Texas didn't disappoint!

Black-bellied Whistling Ducks (Dendrocygna autumnalis)

Del Rio-Cienegas Road Ponds, Val Verde County, Tx

Oct. 7, 2018