Return To Mount Pinos

Recently my dad and I ditched the lowlands and lurked up into the mountains for a change of pace. I needed a dose of high-elevation species, so we headed up to Mount Pinos, which straddles the Ventura/Kern County line in southern California. I used to bird there quite a bit back in the day, when I couldn't ear bird worth shit and I was much lower than Number 7 in the country. I got a lot of life birds up there.

While Mount Pinos isn't exactly a crowded birding destination, it does top out at close to 9,000 feet. Many high elevation specialties are found, including species (that I've never seen there) like Calliope Hummingbird and Northern Goshawk; not easy birds in Southern California. The Mount Pinos area used to even have Sooty Grouse (now extirpated); this was the southern limit of their historic range. The last wild California Condors were captured here; they have since fared better than the doomed grouse, and a very lucky birder again has the chance to glass one from the mountaintop.

I was really hoping to get my Ventura County Red Crossbills, and agonizingly had a flock fly over just a few hundred feet from the county line. Life is pain. It was a good day though; birds were pretty much everywhere we went and the year birds were easy to find.

My proximity to this Olive-sided Flycatcher was too much to bear. It was not in good light, and it was sitting on a dumb Forest Service sign, but my camera was smoking by the time I finished rendering the poor bird two-dimensional. This is the one and only kind of its species that I've seen over the years that seemed accustomed to people.

I love the primary extension. This otherwise chunky bird is built to fly far...and decimate large insects.

Ah, the Thick-billed Fox Sparrow. For years, it has been rumored that Fox Sparrows would be split into multiple species, but I think the lines between them appear to be too muddled to do so in any simple way. The form of Fox Sparrow that breeds on Mount Pinos and the rest of southern California is P.i. stephensi.

Fox Sparrows are gifted singers, one of the best birds to hear in the high clearings and edges of mountain meadows. They trigger a flood of nostalgia juices whenever I hear their rich songs; it's a sound that stays with you through the years.

Thick-billed Fox Sparrow is actually comprised of multiple subspecies. They are the most range-restricted group of Fox Sparrows, essentially being confined to Oregon, California and northern Baja California. Thick-billeds are the only breeding type in most of California, although Slate-coloreds do breed in a small part of Inyo County.

There is no bird quite like a Clark's Nutcracker. Their grating shrieks are a welcome sound in the hallowed high-elevation coniferous forest. Even the pine trees themselves love the nutcrackers.

Clark's Nutcrackers are reliable at Mount Pinos in small numbers. In spring and summer they typically stay near the top of the mountain, above Iris Meadow. In fall and winter they can be lower, but I think birders are generally too damn lazy to go up the mountain when its cold.

Aside from being charismatic and noisy, nutcrackers are prodigious seed cachers, specializing in Whitebark Pine. An individual nutcracker will cache tens of thousands of Whitebark Pine seeds every year, and have demonstrated the ability to remember exactly where seeds have been stored for up to 9 months. Not only is this an amazing feat in and of itself, but the big picture is that Whitebark Pine seeds only germinate when removed from the cone by Clark's Nutcrackers and cached in the soil. The two species have evolved together and are almost completely dependent on one other for survival. Pretty cool I reckon.

Look at this anonymously-garbed bastard. You know what it is...right? Right? I like how the pine needles in the background give the bird a kind of luminescent, deityish look.

The last thing I expected to find above treeline was a vast shrubscape littered with unkempt, recently-fledged Sage Sparrows. I have never seen so many Sage Sparrows. They were everywhere, outnumbering the Green-tailed Towhees, the Chipping Sparrows, the Dark-eyed Juncos, the Cassin's Finches, the Clark's Nutcrackers. Nary an adult was to be seen...what a bizarre phenomenon.

Sage Sparrow is the only sparrow that sprints across openings with it's tail held high in the air. Why they evolved this highly-entertaining habit is anybody's guess. 

An Unholy Union

Cliff and Tree Swallows. Part of a flock of thousands of birds that appeared to be already migrating in early July. If I had more patience I would have sat there all morning, checking each and every bird for a Cave Swallow...but I am not that lame. Finney Lake, CA.

It's great to be back in the bay area, where people are free to act human every once in a while. I just watched 2 biologists marry each other, which most people would describe describe as "An unholy union between wannabe eco-terrorist, tree-hugging communists", which sounds like a good time to me. I try to escape from birders, but it gets harder and harder every year.

I thought I'd take a break from terns and shorebirds and show a few birds of the shrub-lurking variety today.
I hope you had a crepuscular weekend.

Bell's Vireo fledgling. Least Bell's Vireos have the unfortunate distinction of being an Endangered Species, as a result of habitat loss/degradation and being a frequent host of Brown-headed Cowbirds. This one already got banded. Old Mission Dam, San Diego CA.

Bell's Vireos follow the strict rules of The Economy of Style, but still manage to be cute.

This Blue Grosbeak fledgling could not have been out of the nest for very long. It's pretty damn ugly if you ask me. Old Mission Dam, San Diego, CA.

Cassin's Kingbird. I don't go birding as often as I should in the late afternoon...the lighting is highly conducive to photography. Lindo Lake, Lakeside, CA.

Costa's Hummingbird. She chose an artistic perch. East San Diego County, CA.

Say's Phoebe. I think this picture kind of sums up the scenery around Jacumba, CA, where San Diego birders go for some migrants and desert goodness and the whole California birding community must go if they don't have Harris' Hawk on their state list yet.

It's dry. It's hot. It's August. Bird song is not what it was a couple of months ago. Even resident birds like this Bell's Sage Sparrow have shut up. Migration looms. East San Diego County, CA.

Lesser Goldfinch. Have you ever thought about what it would be like to only handle, break down, orient and eat food with your face? A strange and disturbing concept. Mission Trails Regional Park, San Diego, CA.

Rum, Bastards, and Birds.

Sage Sparrow. There are three subspecies, all of which can be found in California. This Bell's Sage Sparrow (the coastal subspecies) was off Old Highway 80 in San Diego County.

Today's photos are all a rundown of my year birds from last weekend. Nothing uber rare, but trust me its been a long time since I year birded 4 species in one day. Remember, if anyone would like me and/or The Great Ornithologist Felonious Jive to actually do a real Big Year, BB&B is accepting donations at any time. If you contribute something in the 5-figure range (the minimum amount of $$$ required to shatter the big year record), I may consider tattooing your likeness somewhere on my body.

In other news...it appears the birding community continues to be ruled by petty nerds and people who embody the phrase "anal retentive". Although no one can deny "the internet" has revolutionized birding in many positive ways, it makes it plain to see what shallow, obsessive-compulsive people birders can be....but it also allows me to share things like this:

"I heard some loud, clear, high-pitched, dog-like whimpers (just exactly like a blue-winged teal) coming from somewhere in the grassy islands of sloughs of the San Diego River, near the Ocean Beach, just across south of the Sea World. Seriously, I knew it was a blue-winged teal. That whimpering blue winged teal was probably a male making courtship calls." - An eBirder.

The sage lays claim to it's own sparrow, thrasher and grouse. Not bad for a plant. Still, it can't compete with all the birds named after pine trees (Grosbeak, Warbler, Flycatcher, Sisken).

Yup, whenever I tell people about Blue-winged Teal identification, I make sure to tell them they sound like a bag of puppies being sat on by John Goodman. Absolutely crucial in finding them.

Anyways, I know you Florida bird bloggers have been stalking me on an hourly basis ever since I dropped my preliminary announcement on BB&B's Fall Tour to Florida....well today it brings me great pleasure to tell you that your worst nightmares are about to become a reality....I am coming to Florida for two weeks in October. Specifically, I'll be on Key West, waiting for massive fallouts and otherwise lurking in dimly lit parking lots hoping an Antillean Nighthawk will fly by. Perhaps I might even take a little side trip to....THE DRY TORTUGAS??!!!!!

This isn't even a birding trip to be honest, but do you expect me to not bird? No way...only a hangover with the force to put me in a sustained catatonic state could be capable of such a thing (which is, unfortunately, not unlikely).

You know how The Great Ornithologist wrote about birding in low places? Well, Jacumba, CA is pretty much the epitome of that. I don't know why anyone would choose to live there, but Tricolored Blackbirds like this one like it.

The one pond in the area has a pretty sizeable colony of this declining species, which border on being endemic to the state. Unfortunately, with the way things are going, it would not be surprising if this species ended up on the endangered species list in our lifetimes. LONG LIVE THE COLONY.

Harris's Hawk is highly local in California...your chances of seeing one without knowing exactly where to look are pretty close to nil. Jacumba has a family group that lives in town though. This is one of the young ones.

Here's one of the adults. This is the only North American raptor that hunts in cooperative "packs", which is pretty sick.

Vermilion Flycatcher...a poor picture of a great bird. Another mildly rare species that seems a bit more common in California than they used to be. Jacumba, CA.