The One Bird Theory

Prothonotary Warblers are great...I was more than happy to see this one in Goleta, in Santa Barbara County, last fall on the way to visit friends/family/birds in Ventura. In 2015, eBird has records for Prothonotary Warblers from 10 different locations in California. Could this just be the same bird wandering around? Of course not, but birding is rife with empty questions like this.

According to The Great Ornithologist Felonious Jive, there are more birders now than ever. I am inclined to agree with him. Birders are birding harder than ever before. Birds, in much of the country, are really getting birded.  Perhaps as a result of increasing coverage over the years, I am constantly hearing the same thing...the one bird theory.

The one bird theory is simple, though a bit cumbersome to explain. If a Ruff is seen in Oregon one day, and another Ruff is seen in Washington a few days later, birders will wonder if it is the same bird. If a Common Crane is seen in New Mexico, and a Common Crane is seen in Texas a few days later, birders will wonder if it is the same bird. If an Emperor Goose is seen in Humboldt County one day and an Emperor Goose is seen in Sonoma County the next day, birders will wonder if it is the same bird. So rather than assuming or deducing two different individuals are involved, a birder will wonder (and that is the key word here) if the same individual has been found in both places.

Now some of you might think they know where I am going, that I think the one bird theory has nothing to it. That is not true. The one bird theory turns out to be correct quite often. What does bother me is how often I hear or read the phrase, "I wonder if the [Species Blablabla] seen at [Location A] is the same bird that was found at [Location B]." It is usually just left at that, without any discussion. Well friends, you don't have to just put your wonderment out there for the world to behold, you can actually have an informed opinion...you could even decide yourself!

But how can one do this? Why think when one can wonder? Examining the one bird theory is not so difficult, it just comes down to considering a few factors and asking a few questions.

Elegant Terns are obvious birds...you know when they are around. It is important to know when birds are around, and when they are not.

Were they seen at the same time?

Overeager birders who quickly spout their one bird theory hypothesis often don't even check to see if the different individual sightings involved were actually happening simultaneously. A bird can only be in one place at a time, not two. Do your research people, don't make others do it just to answer your own question.

Migratory habits of many North American species are well understood. Black Terns go south in winter, north in spring. Not too complicated.

What direction is it going?

This question is especially important to consider during migration. Let's revisit our Ruff example from above. Let's say the sighting happens in October. In October, shorebirds migrate south. If a Ruff is seen in Oregon, it is incredibly unlikely it will turn around during the height of fall migration and show up in Washington. The Ruff will not suddenly figure out it is in Coos Bay and then try to hightail it back to Siberia in order to find the correct continent before it continued its southward migration. So, keep migration and dispersal patterns in mind when pondering the one bird theory.

Cassin's Finches, like several other high elevation species, periodically "invade" unusual places every few years in search of food, which can take them to unusual habitats and places where one would not expect them. When such patterns are evident, one need not spend much time contemplating the one bird theory.

Is there a pattern?

For various reasons (often unexplained), a region will occasionally experience an irruption of a vagrant species, such as with Black-bellied Whistling-Ducks, seabirds and northern finches. So when a lot of Common Ground-Doves sightings are popping up in the Midwest, which happened last year, there is obviously no reason to think it is just the same bird miraculously choosing to stop in heavily-birded vagrant traps and being found repeatedly.

An out of range Western Gull would be a worthy candidate of the one bird theory. They are not highly prone to vagrancy, and would stand out in a lot of places. A bird wandering around the east or the interior west could definitely be found in more than one place.

How rare is it?

There are rare birds, and then there are rare birds. If two Golden-cheeked Warblers were seen in two different places in California in one year, one should rightly consider if the same individual is involved...it is just incredibly unlikely one would get here in the first place (and we do have a record!), let alone two around the same time. However, if two Chestnut-sided Warblers show up in different places in California in the same season, the idea of them being the same individual would be a ridiculous notion unless both birds were melanistic or banded or something like that (we will get to that soon). Chestnut-sided Warblers are not at all unexpected in California, and the state gets many records every year, up and down the state. It's quite rare for the one bird theory to be in effect when a "expected" species is involved.

In the eastern United States, there is no shortage of habitat a wayward Western Tanager could use spring through fall. How many Western Tanagers are eastern birders missing? Probably hella.

Think about birder coverage.

In most, not all, parts of the country, birders are not covering all available habitat very well. Most is inaccessible, due to lack of birders, roads, trails, or because land is private or government property that the public can't get to. When this is the case, think about all the area where birds are being missed...what are the chances that the subject of your one bird theory will somehow be found in more than one place, and somehow not vanish into the abyss that is all this other unbirded habitat? Think about the odds...they usually are not very good.

Ah, the Common Nighthawk. An easy bird to see in some places, but how many of the Common Nighthawks out there are people really seeing? Nightjars are hard...they can be hard to identify, but just finding them is typically the problem. Finding them roosting is blind luck, and birders can't see them foraging in the dark. The unfortunate truth is that the vast majority of nightjars go completely undetected in their normal range, let alone as vagrants! 

Think about detectability.

Some birds are easier to see than others. An Ivory Gull is easy to see. A Common Poorwill is not. A Ferruginous Hawk is easy to see. A Gray-cheeked Thrush is not. A Long-billed Curlew is easy to see. A Wilson's Snipe is not. A Black Skimmer is easy to identify. A Common Sandpiper is not. A Laysan Albatross is easy to pick out. A Tristram's Storm-Petrel is not. When birds are hard to find due to their habits or simply hard to identify, you can bet that a lot of these birds are going undetected, even when they are right in front of us! Then there is the fact that most birds in our area go undetected because they are in places where we don't bird, or because they fly right over us during migration...when birds migrate, they don't stop in every single county on their way to their destination. Think about this: a Yellow Rail seen in one place is practically guaranteed to never be seen in another. So to put it all together, one must ask how many of a certain species we are missing in a certain area. This has everything to do with likelihood of the one bird theory holding up for a vagrant. Keep these things in mind when the one bird theory is wracking your brain...the more you think about the detectability of a species, the more the one bird theory has a tendency to lose water.

This Pink-footed Shearwater is a good example of what a bird can offer that would help identify it on an individual level. This bird has a lot of molt going on in the flight feathers, definitely something to key in on, and the underwing pattern is a great thing to examine as well.

What does it look like?

I saved the one of the most obvious things to consider for last. These days, many rarities are photographed well. So before you put your public wonderment out there, see if you can compare photos of the bird(s) in question. You can compare age, plumage, sex, molt, wear, patterning, bands, etc. This is what typically provides a definitive answer when questioning if the same bird is involved.

And there you have it...it boils down to knowing status and distribution, what the birds look like, and some focused questions about the odds of the same bird being found twice versus the odds of a different individual being involved. The one bird theory will always be out there, and for good reason, but now you are equipped to test it. You are ready. Wield the hammer of this knowledge in listservs, forums and Facebook groups, and you too can make birders better.

From Anous to Thalasseus: Tern Heroes

Brown Noddy is a truly slick looking bird, with shades of gray, brown and black all somehow seamlessly melting into one another.  I'm told they can be pretty aggressive around nests but in my experience with them you just walk up to them and they let you stare at them super hard. Photographed at Midway Atoll.

I have a plan...a plan to see a certain species of tern.  A species I haven't seen before.  I'm not going to try for another couple of months, but I'm really looking forward to it.  I don't get lifer terns very often (the last couple were Bridled in 2013, Aleutian in 2010) so I'm getting pretty worked up about it. Terns are a big deal.  They are aesthetically pleasing, highly migratory, prone to vagrancy, and often offer a worthy ID challenge.  Many species are stunning, even while still comfortably constrained by The Economy of Style.  In anticipation and celebration of this event, I'm going to post a suite of other terns that have improved my life in myriad ways.

My experiences with Black Noddy, on the other hand, have not been similar.  They look at you from trees and don't want to be near you.  Although I saw many, many Black Noddies while out at Midway, this was the one and only really approachable individual I found...which I am grateful for, because it chose the perfect perch and perfect background. Note the longer, more slender bill in comparison to Brown Noddy.

Sooty Terns sure do get around...around the world, that is.  It's one of two tern species I've seen on the east coast, west coast, and Hawaiian Islands (Least Tern being the other).  This bird was (still is?) part of the colony on Eastern Island at Midway Atoll.

Ahhh, my last life tern, and what a sweet lifer it was.  Before seeing them I was always confounded about how these could be told from Grey-backed Terns (which do have some range overlap in the South Pacific), but I can see a difference now. This Bridled Tern was photographed off Cape Hatteras, North Carolina.

Grey-backed Terns are sweet birds...they sometimes nest in the same places as Sooty Terns, but are always less abundant and less annoying (Sooty colonies are loud and intense).  I've always considered them the luxury car of terns, although I don't know why and that probably doesn't make sense to anyone else.  Note the finer bill and paler back than the Bridled Tern above; Grey-backed also has less black in the primaries when seen from below. Photographed at Midway Atoll.

Least Terns and I go way back...they are one of the handful of birds that I remember well from those dark ages of before I was a birder.  I worked with these birds a lot in San Diego a couple years ago, unfortunately all of their breeding colonies fared horribly and it was kind of depressing (colonies up and down California failed that year).  Photographed in Escondido, CA.

As far as photography goes, shooting feeding terns never gets old.  Here is a Forster's Tern, mid-plunge. Photographed at the Tijuana River Estuary, CA.

Though shackled with a...common...yet horrible name, Common Tern is always a bird we enjoy seeing in California.  Rarely common, we most often find them during fall migration at the Salton Sea, coastal wetlands and well offshore, in the realm of Arctic Terns.  You would not expect to find a bird from the Canadian prairie far out at sea, but luckily birds have a habit of defying birder expectations.  Photographed at Ormond Beach, CA.

Arctic Terns are tantalizing.  Unless you are lucky enough to bird where they breed, they always seem so...ephemeral.  Uncommon off California during fall, they are never really dependable on pelagic trips, and sightings are usually brief and of poor to mediocre quality. I want to see more. Photographed off Bodega Bay, CA.

I first met Sandwich Tern at Bolsa Chica Ecological Reserve (in Orange County, CA) back in the mid 90's when one had teamed up with an Elegant Tern to make hybrids.  It would be over 10 years before I saw another, but now we make sure to eyeball each other with more regularity. Photographed at the Dry Tortugas, FL.

Elegant Terns are a common sight up and down California in summer and fall.  As breeders, they have increased in the state over the years, forming colonies in San Diego, Orange and most recently Los Angeles Counties...no minor achievement, considering how few breeding colonies there are in the world.  Photographed at Half Moon Bay, CA.

Unlike on the Atlantic coast, Royal Terns do not venture very far northward; they are a rare bird away from southern California.  Despite frequently associating with Elegant Terns (which provide great comparisons), they are often misidentified...but such is the fate of many terns South Padre Island, TX.

For the world's biggest tern, you would think Caspian Terns would have some different behaviors from the rest of the family...but aside from monstrous vocalizations, they are pretty similar.  Fortunately, those horrible calls are quite charming.  Photographed at South Padre Island, TX.

Gull-billed Terns, on the other hand, know how to stand apart.  Gull-billed Terns are just as content foraging for horned lizards in the sand dunes as they are fish in the surf line.  They hunt bird eggs and chicks, and will get mobbed by other tern species.  They are everything Caspian Terns wish they could be, all while carrying themselves with a certain grace and elegance. Photographed at the Tijuana River Estuary.

Black Terns have always been there for me.  Back when I started birding, a Black Tern was one of the first Vague Runts I ever saw (at the Ventura Water Treatment Plant, if you must know). They are always there for me at the Salton Sea in the summer.  When I needed them most (for lack of humanity to spend time with), they were there in the greatest of numbers in North Dakota.  I would be lying if I said I wasn't dying to see their Vague Runt brethren, White-winged Tern, but until I do Black Terns will continue to validate my existence.  Photographed at Lostwood NWR, North Dakota.

White Tern is a singular bird...there's nothing quite like them. They nest pretty much anywhere that isn't the ground, just plop out an egg where hopefully the chick won't be too exposed to the weather. They are tame. They come hover next to your head as you walk by their perch. If you haven't seen one, they are your favorite bird waiting to happen. Photographed at Midway Atoll.

Last but not Least Tern, I finally give you a stupid tern pun and offer you an honorary tern, a Black Skimmer. Skimmers look great on the wing, but they always look so grumpy at rest. Maybe if no one could tell that I had eyeballs, I would seem grumpy too.  Photographed at South Padre Island, TX.

Confessions of Filth: Birding After the Death of the Perpetual Weekend

Meet Troglodytes pacificus meligerus, the form of Pacific Wren found from Buldir Island to Attu Island, in the western Aleutians.  Some birds can't be chased...you just have to go where they live.  Buldir Island, AK.

There are castes of birders.  It is known.  I know this, you know this...the Global Birder Ranking System (GBRS) knows this.  There are the birding legends and pioneers, there is birding scum (chronic stringers, of course), and there is everything in between.  While some take decades to build their reputations, be it good or bad, others can see their GBRS rank skyrocket in a single moment. San Luis Obispo birder Bill Bouton recently experienced this when he photographed a Black Scoter in Crescent City, CA.  Looking at his photos a week later, he realized that something was wrong...and so he put the word out.  He had found, and documented, a Common Scoter...a rarity to end all rarities. He had told people where to find the Common Scoter.  And the next day, birders ventured forth and refound and the Common Scoter.

Bill Bouton became a birding hero.

I've never met the guy, but I know this.  Deep in the bottom of my heart.  And so does everyone else. He may even be a bad person, but he will always be a hero.

Which is neither here, nor is it there.  We are not here today to worship our heroes, or demonize the villains.  We are here to talk about one of the commonest activities that fall under the umbrella of birding...we are talking about chasing.

Black Tern.  I have been blessed to see many thousands of Black Terns, and I hope I will see many more.  I highly recommend seeing hundreds at once instead of a wayward migrant. Photographed somewhere in North Dakota.

Why does this come up?  Well you may remember, not long ago, I experienced something called the Perpetual Weekend.  Year after year I would get to bask in the warm glow of the Perpetual Weekend, and bird to my heart's delight.  I was birding at will.  I could go abuse myself with gulls, or go after some rarity.  I had ample time to do both.  Often I would chase, often I would not.  You remember that Common Cuckoo that showed up?  You want to know what I was doing that day when I heard the news?  I was sitting at home, drinking coffee, hitting "refresh" on my browser over and over again waiting for news of a rare bird.  When the initial report of a "probable" Common Cuckoo showed up, I just sat there waiting for the inevitable confirmation or denial of the bird.  When I got the green light 20 minutes later, I was already packed and ready to go.  I saw the bird very well, had prolonged and sustained views, and managed to beat the hordes of birders that showed up later that day.  It was glorious.

But no more.

Now I work 5 days a week.  No more sitting around on weekdays, casually pondering if I should go out and flog the shrubbery myself or wait for some Vague Runt to be dropped into my lap via the internet.  I no longer have the luxury of birding at will, because I feel the need to maximize my available birding time.  Like most wage slaves, now I can only bird 1-2 days a week. And what do I find myself doing more and more often?  Chasing other people's goddamn birds.  If one wants to see the most unusual birds for the smallest amount of effort, this is what many birders end up doing.  It's completely understandable.  But I've been doing it so fucking much lately that I just feel...dirty. Filthy, even. For reasons I cannot explain, I'm experiencing a sort of anxious guilt. And let me tell you, not every chase has a Common Cuckoo kind of ending.  The singular worst birding experience of my life (that did not feature horrific car accidents or getting robbed at gunpoint) was the monumental misery that was the treacherous Ivory Gull Chase of Y2K10.  I was left in a catatonic state of depression for months afterwards, and Dipper Dan almost died of a broken heart. Things have never been the same since then, and I dread having to relive it over and over again with a constantly changing cast of rare and awesome birds.

And I haven't even told you about BRAMBRING yet.  I could...but it will wait another day.

Osprey.  This bird flew over us as we were forlornly staring at the sea lion carcass that the Ivory Gull had just been feeding on.  I felt like the sea lion.  I felt like that headless fish. Sometimes, I still do.  Pismo Beach, CA.

Of course, if you don't dip on the birds you are chasing, everything is aces.  It's great.  That's how birders can stand to do big years (not counting modest county-level big years), which consist of mostly just chasing birds other people find.  They end up seeing most of the shit they chase.  It works, I suppose.  That said, just thinking about spending an entire year doing that or compulsively chasing all over the state just to inflate some county lists leaves a bad taste in my mouth.  There are birders who do nothing but chase other people's birds...all of the time. And by all of the time I don't mean just regularly, I mean pretty much every time they go "birding".  They almost never find interesting birds on their own...they don't care to try.  They don't care to bird without rarities on the brain.  I can't imagine that. Travelling is fun, yes, but never birding for the sake of birding?  It's kind of gross.

I've chased my share of Chestnut-collared Longspurs here in California.  But seeing all of those birds doesn't come close to watching crippling males bust out song-laden, facemelting flight displays on the prairie in summer. Photographed at Medicine Lake National Wildlife Refuge, MT.

So why do I chase at all?  Why does the #7 birder in the United States stoop to chasing birds other people find?  For the same reasons that #1-6 and #8-10 chase birds...we fucking love birds.  We are hopeless bird junkies.  We love looking at birds we've never seen before. We love looking at birds we've only seen a couple times before.  We love looking at birds we only get to see every few years, or once or twice a year. In fact, we love looking at birds.  That's why I've never understood birders who are revolted by the very idea of chasing.  Don't you like looking at birds?  Especially ones you don't get to see very often?  It's bizarre.  Sure I like to pad my California list and a few counties, but I am fully aware that no one gives a fuck how high my lists are except me...and if anyone did care, even a little bit, they certainly wouldn't tell me.  So it's not like I'm competing with anyone.  It's not like I'm doing a big year.

It's time to put this rambling screed to rest, I think.  As I've said, though I love Vague Runts, I feel a bit dirty these days...though it might be the BRAMBRING talking.  In time, I will find a balance.  I've never birded the bay area in spring before, and soon I will be hurling myself at common migrants left and right. I'm looking forward to it.

Right.  I like birds.  Pretty big news I suppose.

On Warranting Caution: Angles and Lighting

Birders have a lot of cliches. One you hear over and over again, in heated, sweaty-palmed and pained discussions on advanced bird ID (and occasionally, with regards to provenance) is "caution is warranted". What birder popularized this phrase? We may never know. One thing that is not uncertain is that it is good advice, albeit phrased in such a melodramatic and painfully nerdy manner that I wince when I try to say it.

An occasion in which a birder should not throw caution to the wind is when we don't get to see all we want of a bird, even when we think we do. Take the Black Tern above, for example. This is a pretty good look, right? It's almost a crush. But something is off...why does it have dark gray wing linings? It's not a shadow. What is wrong with it?! Call the bird police!

Oh, wait. That looks better. What happened?

What happened is angle. What happened is lighting. The effects even minute changes in angle and lighting can have on a bird's appearance is monumental. The above photo was taken less than a second after the top photo, and the tern looks like it changed wings in between frames. Sure it's hard to see birds when its dark, and obviously looking at backlit birds sucks, but I don't think birders fully appreciate how subtle changes in lighting and angle can fully transform a bird.

Cool. A quick glance at this photo may make a birder guess Caspian Tern. It's a good guess. That's a dark bill.

And here it is a second earlier. Obviously a Royal Tern. That bill is no-doubt-orange, not the slightest bit red.

Philadelphia Vireos are notorious. Notorious for being yellow. Not yellow like a Yellow-green Vireo, or a Yellow-throated Vireo...or a Thick-billed Vireo...but you know what I'm talking about. If you don't, you are probably unskilled at Philadelphia Vireo identification. Not that there is anything wrong with that...or so I'm told.

But I digress. Here is a vireo. Obviously a Philadelphia or Warbling. Yeah, the lores dark, but this thing is bland. Could it just be a funky Warbling? The head looks numbingly gray, the throat an unfathomable shade of drabness. Where is the yellow? Show me the yellow!

Oh. There it is. It obviously is saturated with yellow. That's funny. Do you see where I'm going with this? Not only am I trying to address problems of birding in the field, I'm talking about how misleading photos can be.

Of course, I can't talk about issues with lighting and bird ID without talking about gulls. Here is an ostensible Western Gull taking flight. Quite the dark mantle, eh? Looks pretty normal.

Oh. That looks pretty pale now....disturbingly so. Clearly not a pure Western Gull.

Oh wait. It's super dark. It looks like a Western Gull. What is going on? What is the real shade of its mantle? This is all the same bird, and the photos were all taken within ten seconds of each other. Questionable gulls (and even some unquestionable gulls) require a lot of study, and a large dose of caution. When you are trying to ID a gull based on someone else's photos of one (an increasingly common practice), I suggest even more caution. Huge amounts of it. You should be getting drunk on caution, because you didn't get to see all the angles and lighting on the bird in the field. This is one of the many reasons gulls suck and I hate looking at photos of "mystery gulls", addicting as they may be. And yes my nerds, the mild mottling on the nape is indicative of some Glaucous-wing ancestry.

Let us look at the gull in front (although you have the freedom to ponder the other one). It looks almost textbook for a Thayer's Gull. But why is the mantle so dark? Surely this is a dark-mantled species of some sort, or at least a hybrid of one, because look how pale the other bird's back is in comparison.

Here is the same bird. Why, it doesn't have a dark back at all. Suddenly, it becomes a pristine Thayer's Gull. The only difference is that the bird is turned a few degrees to the right, compared to the previous photo.

Despite the misleading bird-to-bird comparison I offered two photos above (that was more of a don't-ID-gulls-by-just-one-photo-sometimes kind of warning), comparing birds directly is the way to go. It can be gulls, it can be vireos, it can be various strolling Siberian ground-dwellers.

California birders still remember what happened last year...Savannah Sparrows were being misidentified time and time again as Red-throated Pipits. It was an outrage, a debacle of the highest order. GBRS ranks were in freefall all over the state. There was even a backlash counter-outrage to combat it, defending the rights of stringers everywhere. It was a sad state of affairs, and we may only be a few months away from history repeating itself. At any rate, when the two species are side by side, is it really that confusing? You can't even claim that they are both brown. The bird on the right almost looks like a fucking Prairie Warbler. This is a story of what happens when overenthusiastic birders don't bother comparing their bird of interest with what else is around...and when one Savannah Sparrow is around, there are more (that is a rule). Caution is hella warranted.

Remember my friends...angle and lighting make identification frightening. Take this to heart, and you will go far.

The Sparrow of Baird...Waxwings Imitate Art...A Strange Pooping Posture.

Black Terns are very capable of capturing and consuming the hearts and minds of birders. They can be seen migrating over the open ocean, far from land, or as far from the ocean as you can possibly get (such as in North Dakota). These birds can do it all! And look really good the whole time. Photographed near Stanley, ND.

The BB&B interns were getting their daily flogging today (I typically use leather binocular straps; very effective) when one of them weakly suggested that we do a post on North Dakota. As long-time readers may remember, I spent the summer there in 2010, doing Piping Plover monitoring for Lostwood National Wildlife Refuge. It was a pretty lonely summer, but I really enjoyed the job and the birding was great!

So to mix things up, here's some old photos from the vault that have not made it onto the blog yet. I didn't miss any of the area specialties I looked for there, but would love the chance to connect with some of those birds again. Shorebirds, prairie goodness, and a heavy flow of spring warblers made for great birding. I lifered over and over again...Sharp-tailed Grouse, White-rumped Sandpiper, Hudsonian Godwit, Connecticut Warbler, Baird's Sparrow...it was glorious. Definitely an underrated state for birding.

The numbers of southbound Lesser Yellowlegs that came through the area bordered on obscene...I've never seen so many. Weirder readers will be pleased to note the defecating individual. Des Lacs National Wildlife Refuge, ND.

As Birder Number 7, I am happy to tell you that as your GBRS rank rises over the years, the tendency to confuse Lesser and Greater Yellowlegs for one another will fade away like a bad dream. In fact, you will have the startling realization that Lesser Yellowlegs look a lot more like Solitary Sandpipers, and wonder how often those two are getting mixed up. This Lesser Yellowlegs was at Des Lacs National Wildlife Refuge.

There's nothing like getting life birds while on the clock! Baird's Sparrow, probably the most sought-after species in the state, was a great addition to my lifers-at-work list. Baird's are very local in the northwest part of the state where I worked, but not particularly difficult to see if you know where to look. Redmond Lakes, ND.

This Chipping Sparrow nested next to my trailer on the refuge. I always thought it was funny how sparrows are mostly vegetarian for much of the year, then turn into voracious insectivores for a few weeks while they are raising young. Lostwood National Wildlife Refuge.

I did not expect repeated opportunities to inflict serious damage on Cedar Waxwings while in North Dakota, but as you can see the damage was done...over and over again. There were a lot of berry-bearing shrubs next to my trailer, and the waxwings could not resist.

Yet again, I am reminded of Charley Harper somehow. Life imitates art.

The plump and wonderful Cedar Waxwing.

Eastern and Western Kingbirds alike breed in western North Dakota...it's nice to have both around all the time, but it's also nice to have 6 kingbird species on my California list. I reckon this dusky-throated creature is a hatch year bird. Lostwood National Wildlife Refuge.

Something about this scene speaks to me.

Franklin's Gulls are locally common in the northwest part of the state. This young bird doesn't even look like it's bill is done growing yet. Des Lacs National Wildlife Refuge.

An even younger bird, photographed in early August. It's not every day you see a brown-hooded Franklin's Gull. If you are looking for vagrant Franklin's on the east coast or the west coast, don't be on the lookout for anything that looks like this. Des Lacs National Wildlife Refuge.

American White Pelican is a bird that never gets old, no matter where you are. I've lost track of the number of times I've had to stop what I'm doing and watch in awe as a flock of these massive birds wheeled overhead. Des Lacs National Wildlife Refuge.

A recently-fledged Swainson's Hawk assumes a rather strange pooping posture. Maybe this bird has not yet learned how to fire off its feces for the maximum distance. Des Lacs National Wildlife Refuge.

Richardson's Ground-Squirrel is the most visible rodent in the area. Their cuteness can not, and will not, be denied...even the Red-tailed and Ferruginous Hawks who want nothing more than to consume their flesh cry a little every time they kill one. Lostwood National Wildlife Refuge.