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 

Waiting Game

When I stepped off the Boeing 737 and onto the tarmac I was greeted by a familiar blast of cold arctic wind. I quickly glanced around as I walked excitedly towards the main airport building, surprised by the thick blanket of snow that enveloped the landscape. After locating my baggage and a fellow USFWS shorebird crew member Laura Makielski, I was whisked away to the field house through the familiar streets of Utqiagvik (Barrow) Alaska.

Rock Ptarmigan (Lagopus muta) male

Utqiagvik, North Slope, Ak

Jun. 5, 2018

Wyatt Egelhoff

I have returned for my third year with the long term shorebird demography monitoring project in Utqiagvik, and like last year, 2018 has proven to be an exceptionally late season. While not as cold as the beginning of last season, the large volume of snow that accumulated during the dark arctic winter has taken a long time to melt. While 2017 had proven the latest snow-melt in the 15 year history of the project, 2018 is already about a week later than last year. It took a solid week after I arrived (May 25th) before large numbers of shorebirds began to show up.
Anyone paying attention to environmental news this past winter may have noticed a worrying paucity of sea-ice on the arctic ocean at the border with the Bering Sea. One particularly poignant clip showed waves hammering a building on the island of Little Diomede, an island usually protected from winter storm waves by a buffer of sea ice. Overall sea ice extent on the Arctic Ocean was the lowest since remote sensing technology allowed extent to be sampled. Break up of sea ice in the springs generally continues to be earlier every year. But despite this, the land is still covered in snow, a curious juxtaposition that may in some way be correlated. Venturing into the realm of speculation, it would seem possible that more open water later in the fall would be favorable for increased evaporation and subsequent precipitation. Usually the sea ice would reduce the amount of available moisture in the atmosphere, but with lower ice extent, more open water is available. In general Utqiagvik gets cold in the winter (average temperatures around -40F), but not snowy compared to interior Alaska, which sees much greater snow accumulation.

Members of the USFWS Barrow shorebird crew heading out to check one of the demography plots near the new landfill in early June. This is usually one of the first areas to open up, but still lies under a foot of snow.

Regardless of the reason, the tardiness of the season has forced birds wishing to breed on the tundra surrounding Utqiagvik to concentrate around the limited patches of open water/tundra until larger areas begin opening up and they can disperse. Waterfowl migrating in on the ocean seem to have been biding their time beyond the sea ice surrounding Utqiagvik, exploring leads in the ice when they appear, but generally toughing it out on the ocean and simply waiting for the tundra to melt. This has made for some interesting early-season sea watching.
Ultimately, it seems unlikely that the birds won't attempt to nest this year, but rather the amount of time that is available for nesting will be reduced. Most nest initiating for shorebirds in this area ceases around July 5th, and those nests initiated after about June 28th tend to have a much lower success rate than those initiated before. It seems unlikely there will be any time for re-nesting if clutches are predated.

Northern Wheatear (Oenanthe oenanthe) male 

Laura Madison Rd, Utqiagvik, North Slope, AK

May 28, 2018

Wyatt Egelhoff

From a birding perspective, the late season appears to have concentrated birds, making detection easier, as well as freed me up to cover more areas while waiting for the demography plots to open up and work to begin. This year saw a slew of quasi-vagrant passerines such as Bluethroat (Luscinia svecica) and Northern Wheatear (Oenanthe oenanthe) which breed further east and south on the North Slope, but are unusual in the Utqiagvik area. In the category of "wacky unexpected vagrants" a Tundra Bean-Goose (Anser serrirostris) seen aggressively ripping at the tundra was definitely a highlight. I suspect this individual may have wintered in North America and travelled north until it reached Utqiagvik (at which point it is difficult to get any further north). It tended to hang out apart from the large groups of Greater White-fronted Geese (Anser albifrons) so I am not so sure it migrated with a flock. But ultimately, who knows. Maybe it did come across from Russia.

Tundra Bean-Goose (Anser serrirostris)

Cake Eater Rd, Utqiagvik, North Slope, Ak

Jun. 8, 2018

Wyatt Egelhoff

Big thanks to the members of the USFWS Eider monitoring crew that helped us find it

Finally, and perhaps most notably, I was not only lucky enough to see a Polar Bear (Ursus maritimus) again this year (3 for 3), but also managed to find my own while scanning the sea ice for migrating birds. Something about watching the bear travelling over the ice after serendipitously picking it out with a scope was more fulfilling than chasing, but either way I am very happy to have seen this magnificent species in my lifetime. Still waiting on that Ivory Gull.

Buff-breasted Sandpiper (Calidris subruficollis) 

Utqiagvik, North Slope, Ak

Jun 5, 2018\

Wyatt Egelhoff

Not annual in the Utqiagvik area, the last time this species was detected here was 2014. Here's hoping they hang out and breed despite the difficult conditions this year.

Fast Times Where the Latitude is High

The Arctic is pretty well known for its annual variability in everything from lemming numbers to ice melt, which is part of what makes climate change such a big deal at the Earth's poles. It is difficult to judge from year to year just how shifts in global temperature will impact the ecosystems at the top of the world, other than to say they will be profoundly impacted by increased climatic unpredictability.

A young male Polar Bear (Ursus maritimus) investigating a discarded pile of meat on the Chukchi Sea in Barrow, AK

Jun. 12, 2017

Based on the exceptionally early melt dates for 2015 and 2016, I had expected this season in Barrow to be a similar case. I couldn't have been more wrong. As part of the monitoring done by the USFWS shorebird crew, an estimate of the snow, water, and land coverage of select quadrants of each plot are taken every other day until only 10-15% of the area on all plots are covered in snow. At this point estimates are made on a weekly basis. This helps to put data such as nest initiation dates and invertebrate abundance in context each year with the receding snow pack. Last year a few of the plots had already declined to approximately 20% snow coverage by the time we arrived on May 24, 2016. This is a stark contrast to this year, in which the plots did not reach the 10-15% average until June 20, which is the latest snow melt in the 15 year history of the project. Similar conditions were apparently present across the entire North Slope, as evidenced by preliminary reports from the other USFWS shorebird camps scattered from Barrow to Arctic NWR at the Canning River.

One of several Red-necked Stints (Calidris ruficollis) that helped to spice things up with a bit of Eurasian flare this June in Barrow. This species is essentially annual in Barrow, and one even found its way east to the Canning River (ANWR) this June!

Jun. 15, 2017

While the colloquial public understanding of Earth's changing climate has been somewhat muddled by its initial labeling as "Global Warming," the reality is much less straight forward. An increase in the average global temperature will have a far more potent impact on life on Earth (and more specifically, human life on Earth) than merely being warmer. In the Arctic, where climate change is accelerating at a much greater rate than many other places of the planet, implications range from loss of summer sea ice, to sea level rise, shrub encroachment, permafrost loss, and the potential unravelling of many critical ocean currents.

I'll admit it, there were many times earlier this summer that I bemoaned the biting northeast wind and the calf-deep snow as I trudged around our study plots, straining to hear any displaying Dunlin (Calidris alpina articola) that may have returned. Though certainly more challenging mentally and physically than last year's early melt season, I feel fortunate knowing I've experienced a "cold" spring. This is not to say, however that this spring has been normal.

The affects of climate change do not occur in a strictly linear fashion, and fluctuations from year to year are to be expected. It is the magnitude of this flux that will become more severe going into the future, and it is this increased climatic chaos that will be most difficult for most of Earth's flora and fauna to adjust to.

Snow cover in early June (left) compared to late June (right)

Once the melting begins, the process occurs quite rapidly, though it took a long time to begin this season.

For example, this year's late season meant that most of the tundra was still largely covered in snow until mid-June which meant most of the shorebirds could not initiate nesting until around that time. Many of the waterfowl (Greater White-fronted Geese (Anser albifrons) in particular), which have an approximately 70 day nesting period from lay to fledge, elected not to breed, and are instead roving the tundra in flocks, biding their time until they begin moving south once more.

A pair of Spectacled Eider (Somateria fischeri) survey a promising nest site. The exceptionally late year means that unless nests were initiated as soon as habitat was made available, it seems unlikely many will successfully produce broods. Being the first to initiate also may make them more susceptible to predation as a fox only has to visit the few open patches of tundra to find nests. 

Jun 18, 2017

Once the weather did break though, it was a relief. The winds shifted to the SSW by mid June, and with it came a wave of vagrants, including several Red-necked Stints, and a Yellow Warbler. The winds also produced some great conditions on the ocean, and a few hours of sea watching produced several Short-tailed Shearwaters (Puffinus tenuirostris), Northern Fulmar (Fulmarus gracialis), Black Guillemot (Cepphus grille), a smattering of Crested Auklets (Aethia cristatella), and even a Bowhead Whale (Balaena mysticetus) or two.

A male Yellow Warbler (Setophaga petechia) seen feeding (and even singing) near the dump. While not unusual on the North Slope, there are few records of this species in Barrow.

Jun 18, 2017

One of the more exciting vagrants of the season thus far was a Gray-tailed Tattler (Tringa brevipes) that put on a half hour appearance at the South Salt Lagoon. It was even kind enough to call a time or two, clinching the ID. Add to this a White Wagtail (Motacilla alba) and Red-throated Pipit (Anthus cervinus), and you have a recipe for a pretty exciting summer thus far on the birding front!

Gray-tailed Tattler (Tringa brevipes) seen foraging in a recently drained pond.

Jun 25, 2017

In terms of breeding species, this seems to be a very slow year. Late initiation combined with increased fox and jaeger predation has put a real damper on the success of broods. It will be interesting to compare this year's nest success with that of a "normal" study site in the high arctic. The success of Barrow's shorebirds in former years undoubtedly benefitted from the fox control put in place in the hopes of increasing eider nesting success. Now that there is no longer fox control, Barrow is essentially a "typical" arctic site. Unfortunately, a pair of Parasitic Jaegers (Stercorarius parasiticus) appears to have learned how to find nests with our flag-and-popsicle method of marking nests and have all but cleared out one of our plots, further reducing the overall nest success of birds within our plots this year. That said, a few nests have fledged, and there are a handful of baby Dunlin (C. a. articola) and Red Phalarope (Phalaropus fulicarius) running around the tundra now. A testament to the elasticity and adaptability of birds, even in the face of considerable odds.

With the receding snow comes more pools of standing water, and grassy margins, perfect habitat for breeding Red and Red-necked Phalaropes (P. fulicarius and P. lobatus respectively)

late Jun 2017

Entering the realm of speculation, it will be interesting to see what the remainder of the season brings. Last fall was quite warm, leading to a relatively long summer season. If that is the case again this year, some birds may linger longer in order to complete their breeding cycles, or perhaps the bird's innate internal timing will drive them to abandon and proceed south to staging areas at the usual time (which seems the more likely outcome). Female Red Phalaropes (P. fulicarius) and male Pectoral Sandpipers (Calidris melanotos) have largely left or formed flocks along the coast, though this seems to be occurring at a similar time as last year. Because these groups do not partake in the incubation and rearing of the chicks, they tend to leave as soon as courting is complete.
For now warmer temperatures have tentatively returned to Barrow, and the tundra is beginning to green up for its fleeting growing season. The sedges this year will not need to worry about being eaten by Lemmings as there are incredibly few (I have yet to see any aside for a handful in the jaws of the occasional Arctic Fox (Vulpes lagopus)). This paucity of prey is undoubtedly responsible for the subsequent scarcity of Snowy Owls (Bubo scandiacus) in the area this year. 

The summer goes by fast in the arctic. If you don't stop to look around once in a while, you might miss it.

A Polar Bear (U. maritimus) and dozens of Glaucous Gulls (Larus hyperboreus) feed on discarded meat on the sea ice a few hundred meters off shore in Barrow, AK

Jun 12, 2017

Springtime in the Arctic

I knew immediately after the freezing mist settled upon my face that I had been secretly missing the Arctic. Like most days at the start of the season, the sky was gray, clouds hanging low and heavy with snow that was threatening to fall. Twenty-five degrees Fahrenheit was a stark change from the triple digit highs I had been experiencing in the desert Southwest in the days leading up to my journey to the land of the midnight sun.

Tundra surrounding Barrow, AK upon my arrival in May

Snow coverage this year was much different then it has been the past two years

My excitement and anticipation only increased as the familiar sounds of chortling Greater White-fronted Geese (Anser albifrons) and warbling Snow Buntings (Plectrophenax nivalis) were audible as I departed the Boeing 737 and made my way across the tarmac and into the Wiley Post-Will Rogers Memorial Airport in Utqiagvik (Barrow), Alaska.

I had spent the summer in Barrow last year (2016) and was returning this year again as a volunteer with the USFWS Shorebird Project. This long-term study was developed and launched by Richard Lanctot (USFWS Alaska Shorebird Coordinator) in 2003 and is entering its 15th field season. In a nutshell, the project utilizes six 600 x 600 meter study plots where shorebird nests are located and then followed to hatch. Data on nesting species composition, nest initiation dates, site fidelity, etc... is all gathered, and adults and chicks are banded. All of this information has culminated in several graduate projects over the course of its history and continues to help elucidate trends in shorebird demographics. The site is also a part of the Arctic Shorebird Demography Network (ASDN) which consists of multiple locations across the Arctic that collaborate on projects looking at a variety of topics, but particularly (at least this season) nest predation.

Ruddy Turnstone (Arenaria interpres)

One of several found along Cake Eater Rd and at the Landfill this season, unlike last year when we found very few. A pair was observed copulating near one of our study areas. Just one example of the variability in nesting waders from year-to-year

Located 350 miles north of the Arctic Circle, Barrow is the northernmost city in the United States (with a population of about 4,500). Barrow also happens to be the 11th northernmost city on Earth. Point Barrow, located a few miles north of town is the northernmost point of land in the US, and can be a good place to search for Polar Bears (Ursus maritimus). During the summer (mid-May to mid-August) it never fully gets dark, and during my time here I will never see the sun set. Despite the constant sunshine, the temperature is often rather cold, ranging from around twenty degrees Fahrenheit lows (though the seemingly ever-present wind can chill the temperature considerably) to highs of around 55 F. Occasionally the mercury will climb to almost 70 degrees, though this (usually) only happens once or twice during the summer.

Point Barrow, North Slope, AK

Northernmost point in the US

June 3, 2017

Polar Bear (Ursus maritimus) print seen at Point Barrow. Unfortunately we were unable to pick out the owner of these tracks on the sea ice on this particular visit.

Jun. 3, 2017

I intend to post several entries over the course of the season detailing some of the work that is going on up here. For now I thought I'd try to provide something of a laundry list of differences between this season, and last that I have noticed thus far. Keep in mind that the Arctic is naturally variable, which is one of the joys of working up here, no two years (or no two "days") are the same, and bird occurrence varies from year to year. However, there are several major trends I have noticed:
Snow melt in Barrow, AK has typically occurred from 12-15 of June, however it was *much* earlier in 2016 and 2015. This year seems to be much more "normal" in terms of timing. Last year's sea ice pack was approximately 3 miles, whereas this year's was closer to 14 miles. We have not seen any lemmings as of yet this year (still quite a bit of snow, which can hamper detection). There has not been a major irruption event of lemmings for the past several years, and it is still too early to say whether this will be the year.

One of three handsome Stilt Sandpipers (Calidris himantopus) found by the Barrow Shorebird Crew so far this season (none on plot). This species is quite rare this far west.

 The Loons (Red-throated, Pacific, and Yellow-billed all occur here) have been slow to return as compared to last year. As were the Jaegers (Long-tailed, Pomarine, and Parasitic all occur here). Eiders (Common, King, Spectacled, and Steller's) have largely been scarce, though a large flock (up to 27) Steller's have been hanging out along Cake Eater Rd east of town. A pair or two of Spectacled have also been seen here and there.

Pair of Steller's Eider (Polysticta stelleri) hanging out on a mostly frozen tundra pool. All four world Eider species occur in Barrow, Spectacled and Steller's being listed as federally threatened.

Because the ice is still so thick it has been difficult to observe moving eiders from the shore. While this timing seems slower, given the more 'typical" snow pack this year, perhaps this is standard timing. There has been a flurry of Varied Thrushes (Ixoreus naevius) this year, contrasting with the flurry of American Robins (Turdus migratorius) that were present last year.

Varied Thrush (Ixoreus naevius)

Barrow Cemetery, North Slope, AK

May 26, 2017

It is important to remember that, while this year may seem normal, it is definitely not cause to relax about the state of the climate in the Arctic. I had been expecting another early year given the abnormally warm fall/winter (36 F above average temperatures in November of 2016) though this has not been the case. Though the snow means no nests and apparently fewer birds so far, diversity of birds detected by yours truly has been essentially the same as last year (in fact higher, though there are some other factors at play there). I have caught myself cursing the snow and the associated difficulties it brings in terms of logistics and locomotion in the field, I am relieved to have the opportunity to experience a "normal" Arctic spring before the thralls of climate change make June 15th melt dates a thing of the past. It is critical to remember that climate change is not linear, and so fluctuations are to be expected, while the general trend is still towards a warmer summer and earlier spring.

Pectoral Sandpiper (Calidris melanotos) taking advantage of one of the few open pools of water near Cake Eater Rd, Barrow, AK

Jun. 4, 2017

For example, since 2003, the initiation date for the first nest on the plots has gotten 0.8 days earlier every year. While this year's later initiation date will inevitably lower this number (it is a relatively short time period), other metrics also suggest an earlier melt date and an ominously warming Arctic.

So no Dusky Thrush (Turdus naumanni) or Curlew Sandpiper (Calidris ferruginea) yet, but the season is still young. Here's to another field season in the Final Frontier!

Hoar frost clinging to the grasses on one of the few open patches of tundra, Barrow, AK

Jun. 3, 2016