"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.
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.
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.
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
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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
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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
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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.
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
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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).
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).
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