Boat Season Has Arrived

When August arrives, birders across the continent have one thing on their obsessive brains: shorebirds.  This Global Birder Ranking System #7 U.S. birder?  Two things...shorebirds, and seabirds.  Oh, and another thing, pointing and screaming bird names as loud as possible with a captive audience.

Of course, there are always seabirds Out There, but the end of July heralds the beginning of pelagic season.  Away from Monterey Bay and Half Moon Bay, there is no where else on the west coast where boats depart on the regular to troll for tubenoses, for alcids, for boobies, for jaegers...you get the picture.  I am lucky enough to be able to get on a lot of these trips (mostly out of Half Moon), and spend time with this impressive and difficult group of birds...the birds of The Deep. In anticipation of my first west coast seabirding trip of the year (and yet another shot at Hawaiian Petrel, a bird I need), I thought I would cobble together some photos from past July and August trips. As always, if you are thinking about doing your first west coast pelagic trip, or your first ever pelagic trip, what are you waiting for? Get on a boat!

But these anxious feelings are nothing different from any other year.  What is different about this year is El Nino...not a speculated one, not a possible one, but a real one.  The nonbirder associates El Nino (sorry for the lack of tilde) with rain, the west coast seabirder associates it with rare birds. Weird seabirds have already put in appearances in California this year...a Red-footed Booby, a Nazca Booby, a Kelp Gull, a Bridled Tern...and none of those birds were even seen out to sea!  So who knows what will be out there?  Frigatebirds have already been showing up in SoCal, another encouraging sign.  Fingers crossed for Cook's Petrels, an El Nino special, but I will be happy with a Hawaiian (no fucked up ocean currents required), which is very much a bird of August.

Late summer is a good time for albatross, and Black-footed Albatross are almost always out there this time of year.  Unlike many other seabirds we see, if you see a Black-footed Albatross, you are going to get great looks.  It's also a good time for Laysan Albatross (top photo) as well, but a word of warning: 75% of Laysan Albatross called out on boat trips end up being Western Gulls.  Don't become part of that gruesome statistic...caution is warranted.  

Shearwater diversity does not tend to be very high at the beginning of pelagic season, but Sooty and Pink-footed are never missed, assuming the boat gets out of the harbor.  An early Buller's or Flesh-footed is never out of the question, and of course there are a great many other possibilities.

Small numbers of Northern Fulmars are often found on these summer trips, and the birds usually look something like this. They are ragged. They are haggard...and lets face it, they are godawful. Hideous. It's amazing they can even fly, they are molting so hard. Fulmars later in fall are very respectable in appearance and flight capabilities, not so much our summer lingerers. Luckily, if you've never seen a fulmar before, they are not at all afraid of the boat, so you can wonder at their horrible glory from close range.

August is a great month for jaegers, especially Long-tailed, who often will still be retaining their brilliant extendo-tail. The bulk of southbound Long-taileds seem to pass through from August to mid-September, so now is a good time to get them. The always-popular Skua Slam is always within reach this time of year as well.

Black (above) and Ashy Storm-Petrels are the expected storm-petrels early in the season, though Wilson's are not unusual. With El Nino brewing, this could be a good year to find Least Storm-Petrel this far north, though probably not this early. That said, the birding legend they call Papa Echo Lima recently saw some from shore down La Jolla way, which portends great things for those who want to see them up here.

Fact: 75% of Fork-tailed Storm-Petrels claimed on trips are actually phalaropes...but if you are one who warrants caution, then that 75% is not for you. These are Red Phalaropes, the less common, chubbier, more desirable phalarope.

Speaking of chubby, Cassin's Auklets are expected on trips throughout the summer and fall, though their numbers vary.  Unlike albatross and fulmars, Cassin's Auklets hate boats, so getting good looks at them can be stressful.

I know this isn't a compelling photo, but I think it sums up what looking at murrelets can be like over the deep.  Scripps's Murrelets (above) are the expected species, though last summer Craveri's were seen on a number of boats in July and early August. I'm hoping they come back for an encore this year.

Oh yeah, crippling rarities can show up any time...it just takes a shitload of luck, and maximizing your time on the water. This Salvin's Albatross was the star Vague Runt (albeit one not so runty) of the pelagic season last year, and things have never been the same.

All photos were taken offshore from Bodega Bay and Half Moon Bay.

Pelagic Season Begins: July 26, Half Moon Bay

July 26 was my first pelagic trip of the year, leading for Shearwater Journeys again out of Half Moon Bay. Little did I know, it would be a date that would live on in infamy...the birding would reach a crescendo, although I did not expect it.

I was stoked to start doing some boat trips this year, as since I've returned from Texas I've hardly gone birding. I was also interested in what we might find offshore so early in the "fall", since I've never done a July pelagic before. It was (and is) Hawaiian Petrel season, and a boat the previous week had several Craveri's Murrelet, a bird I yearned for and usually does not get much north of San Diego. After seeing some guillemots in the harbor we plunged into the inshore fog bank, and headed out to sea. Eventually the fog broke and we started getting into some birds...a couple Scripps's Murrelets, a flyby Craveri's (which I missed...ouch), and then a Laysan Albatross appeared ahead of the boat.

I wouldn't call Laysan Albatross "rare" offshore here, but they are certainly rareish...they are not recorded as frequently as, say, Flesh-footed Shearwater, but they are never totally unexpected. Since I spent three and a half months with them on Midway Atoll, they hold a special place in my heart, so it's always good to check in with them.

Soon we were in deeper water, where Black-footed Albatross are plentiful. I never get tired of these birds (they get posted to BB&B almost more than anything else) and although they have only about 3 colors, they can make for some creative photography. They are well known for their big bodies, bill bills and big wingspan, but how about those big fuckoff feet?

Like many waterfowl, albatross will use their humungo feet for brakes and steering when making a quick landing.

I dig the long wake this gooney is leaving behind.

Of course, later in the day we got to see this bird, this rarity of rarities, which you probably know about already. If not, get the full story right here. I'm recovering, slowly. I'm still fighting myopathy and I've just been able to start eating solid food again.

The AOU did just recognize Salvin's Albatross as a full species, less than two weeks after our sighting. Thanks guys. Still marveling that we got to see this bird, and so well at that.

In less majestic and more disgusting news, we had a fair number of Northern Fulmars offshore that day, almost all of which looked like shit. Look at this bird. It's awful.

Several of these dark-morph birds were so worn and bleached that they had white mantles. Look at those horrible primaries! The decrepit tail! It's amazing these birds can even get airborne.

As expected for late July, most of the shearwaters we ran into were Pink-footed (above) and Sooty. We did get one Buller's (the best of all shearwaters), which was on the early side. Most shearwaters now are in heavy wing molt and have big chunks missing from their primaries and secondaries. At least they don't look like hideous fulmars.

This is the same bird. They'll be looking better in a month or so.

There were dozens of Common Murre dads leading their fuzzy, flightless chicks around. Maybe the murres had a good breeding season on the Farallones?

Another murre family scoots out of the way of the boat. I will admit that on this day, I committed a misidentification at sea. I mistook a Orca dorsal fin for a Humpback Whale pectoral fin. Embarrassing, I know. This may sound like an odd thing to do for some of you, but a humpback pec fin is similar in size and shape (but not color...) to a male Orca dorsal fin, and humpbacks frequently lie on their sides or on their backs and will wave a fin in the air, for reasons that only other humpback whales could possibly understand. I feel no shame...mostly because it wasn't a bird. Steller's Sea Lion was also a nice bonus mammal.

Oh, I did see a pair of Craveri's that day, so everything is fine. I'll be on Sunday's pelagic out of Half Moon Bay, so maybe I'll see some of you then. The marine forecast looks very good for alcids and finding rafts of storm-petrels this weekend...it's also worth mentioning that there recently have been 4 species of Sulids in San Mateo and San Francisco waters!!! Not baffling, but welcomed.

How To Bird The Bay Area (Winter Edition): Part 1

WINTER IS COMING...and yet the onslaught of visiting birders never ends. I frequently get asked by out of state birders where to go around these parts, so instead of writing the same thing over and over again, I'm just going to lay it out all right here. I'm keeping out of state/country birders in mind here, so you locals please excuse all the titmouse-stroking that is about to occur.

Before we get started, there are some precious resources out there...make use of the new eBird Hotspot Explorer, the fantastic San Mateo County Birding Guide, this site and this site for Sonoma County...there are several more out there as well if you are willing to get a little dirty and do some cyberdigging. Being on top of all the listservs (and there are many) and eBird RBAs will keep you current on all the relevant rarities...but you already knew that, of course.

Short-tailed Shearwaters begin arriving off our waters in October, but are still far outnumbered by Sooty Shearwaters. Though this bird was photographed off of Bodega Bay, Bodega Head can be a very productive seawatching site.

Let's start with ocean birds. If you come in November, you might still be able to hop on a late-season Shearwater Journeys trip for pelagics, which could be very fruitful. A second option would be doing a whale watching trip that runs out to the Farallon Islands...this has been especially popular with birders in the past year because you can see the Pacific Ocean's only Northern Gannet that lives out there (yes, its still there). This won't be quite as productive as a real pelagic trip, but its far better than being stuck on land.

Northern Fulmar is the most abundant tubenose in winter months, and can sometimes be seen from shore. Photographed off Half Moon Bay.

If you are stuck on land and care to try your luck at seawatching, you can try places like the Pigeon Point Lighthouse (San Mateo County), Bodega Head, and various spots in San Francisco. You probably aren't going to be able to pluck out an albatross from the ether, but birds like Red Phalaropes, Ancient Murrelets and Northern Fulmars are possible. Of course, a scope is necessary. Red-throated, Pacific and Common Loons are common and can occur in many places along the coast.

A Black Oystercatcher at Miller-Knox Regional Shoreline, in Richmond. Oystercatchers are common along rocky shores and breakwaters up and down the coast, as well as various sites in the East Bay. They may blend in with wet rocks, but their piercing (borderline annoying) calls are hard to ignore.

For rockpipers, you have a lot of options...don't expect to be slinging glass at Rock Sandpiper (they are further north), but Black Oystercatcher, Surfbird and Black Turnstone are all common in the area, even in the east bay. Wandering Tattler is more common in fall, but is a winter possibility as well. Good places to see rockpipers include the Sutro Baths (and offshore rocks), Pillar Point Harbor, and the jetties at the mouth of Bodega Bay.

Long-billed Dowitchers (above) and Short-billed Dowitchers alike often roost in large flocks at the Radio Road Ponds in Redwood Shores. Photographers especially will be interested in visiting this place, where you are free to crush at will.

While we're at it, why don't we cover other shorebirds? San Francisco Bay supports huge numbers of shorebirds, both in migration and during winter. There are a multitude of places to get good looks at shorebirds...Radio Road, Foster City Shell Bar (Redwood Shores), Corte Madera Marsh (Larkspur), Bolinas Lagoon and Bodega Bay, Schoellenberger Park (Petaluma) to name a few. Of course, if you are planning on tracking down shorebirds anywhere around here, it's good to know what the tide is doing. Schoellenberger is the best place in winter for Pacific Golden-Plover, and there is often a Ruff around someplace in the late fall and winter months. Mountain Plovers winter inland, in Yolo and Solano Counties.

Cinnamon Teals are common and widespread in the bay area. The Radio Road ponds, where this bird was photographed, is a good place to see all three teal species, Eurasian Wigeon, Black Skimmers and Red Knots.

The bay area has a lot of good waterfowl to offer as well. Eurasian Wigeon, Harlequin Duck, Barrow's Goldeneye and Tufted Duck are all present in winter months. Lake Merritt in Oakland has had at least one Tufted Duck every winter for many years in a row now, and is very reliable for Barrow's Goldeneye in small numbers...also expect close-up views of five species of grebes, Canvasback, Common Goldeneye, both scaup, and some of the tamest night-herons you will ever meet.

Eurasian Wigeon can readily be found at Radio Road and Bolinas Lagoon, among other places, and may be present in any large concentration of American Wigeon. Black Scoters are regular off of the Great Highway (San Francisco) and near Mussel Rock, in Daly City; the latter site can have Harlequin Duck as well. If you are in the Point Reyes area, the waters around the Fish Docks on the outer point can yield Harlequin Duck, Long-tailed Duck, and three species of scoters. This area is very reliable for Red-necked Grebe as well.

Thayer's Gulls are fairly common in the bay area, but pose a difficult ID challenge nonetheless. A small female Herring Gull bellows in the background. Miller-Knox Regional Shoreline, Richmond, CA.

The bay area has been blessed with great gulling. Good gulling can often be found at Golden Gate Park (San Francisco), the Yolo County Landfill, Pilarcitos Creek (Half Moon Bay) and various creek mouths along the San Mateo coast. It's really not hard to find a good gull flock around here. A few Glaucous Gulls are found every winter, and it's definitely worth being on the lookout for Lesser Black-backed, Kumlien's Iceland Gull and Slaty-backed Gull, the latter particularly at Venice Beach (specifically, the Pilarcitos Creek Mouth) and nearby gull flocks in Half Moon Bay.

A pleasing first cycle Glaucous Gull photographed in San Francisco's Golden Gate Park. The small "lakes" in Golden Gate Park often attract a nice variety of gulls, including a number of Thayer's and the occasional Glaucous. Be sure to check Lloyd Lake for friendly Hooded Mergansers.

Of course, one of the highlights of bay area birding are the winter herring runs that occur December to March. At this time of year, herring come into San Francisco Bay en masse to spawn in shallow water, and when they do there can be tens of thousands of gulls feeding on both the adults and roe. Usually the listservs light up about the huge feeding congregations, so they can tell you where to go look at filthy gulls all day.

I'll wrap this post up with rails...aside from many coots, some Common Gallinules, and Virginia Rail and Sora, the bay area also hosts numbers of Clapper and Black Rails (and a handful of Yellows). I should stress your chances of actually seeing a Black Rail are very, very low (I've neither seen nor heard them) but it is not out of the question for the dedicated and/or lucky. A quick check of eBird will show they are found in a number of spots in the bay area (Palo Alto Baylands, Martinez Regional Shoreline, etc.); I recommend doing some research and going out at an extreme high tide where they are prone to be flushed from a marsh or pursued by predators (egrets, herons, gulls). And, of course, don't be a dick and blast rail calls into the marsh, they are a state listed and very sensitive species.

Unlike their smaller/excruciatingly timid cousins, Clapper Rails are not so secretive...their extremely loud calls and "duets" often give them away. The Palo Alto Baylands and Arrowhead Marsh (Oakland) are good places for these birds.

I think that covers a lot of good spots, although I know I left some out, (i.e. the huge network of salt ponds in Santa Clara County). Stay tuned for where to track down your most sought-after raptors and passerines. 

Two Million Years of Solitude

Well, fulmars are colonial nesters, so the title isn't exactly accurate. What I'm trying to say is...we may have a new species on our hands people, one that is not something birders have already been gossiping about for years. Felonious Jive, the Great Ornithologist, has the scoop at 10,000 Birds. This Northern Fulmar (for now?) was photographed off Half Moon Bay, CA.

Ode to the Drab Gray Birds of the Pacific Northwest

Good day to you bird addicts. Today's post is contributed by no other than the infamously bizarre Cass Grattan, who has told BB&B about how birdwatching has brought about his complete financial ruin and social castration, as well as what exactly he thinks about other birders. Aside from coping with the constant state of terminal Fear and Loathing that a lifetime of birdwatching has reaped, Cass is a master communicator and unrelenting flogger of words. He writes to us from the grim recesses of Washington's Olympic Peninsula, amid short breaks between Northern Spotted Owl surveys. Photo of Drab Gray Northern Fulmar and Crisping Bonaparte's Gull by Seagull Steve.

Welcome. To the Realm of Fog and mist-choked fjords. Home to behemoth gymnosperms that drip moss onto their felled parents that perished millenia ago, only to have a variety of taxa sprout from, and consume, their rotting and vital corpses. Here, the line between Life and Oblivion is blurred, and one is hard pressed to articulate either concept in this environment of elemental fluidity.

Behold. The Gray and its oppressive weight on the observer’s senses. Early explorers of the area felt it. Our peaks and waterways bear names such as Deception, Disappointment, Destruction. Lewis and Clark spent an unbearable winter here. It is certain that visions of the Dismal Niche on the Lower Columbia accompanied Lewis in his final hours before he auto-delivered himself from this world. You, like him, can feel its power and fear its depth, for this is only the beginning of an unspeakable horror that lies westward; the pelagic of the North Pacific.

It is here that the elegant simplicity of the Gull and Fulmar is fully realized.  When these birds wheel against an ashen storm front, stacked cumulus wedged into the dome above, their simplicity and banality are transformed into a subtle and seamless weave of element and beast. Their blueprint is understood in these waters. And it is here that the power and magnitude of that titan of fashion that we know as the Economy of Style reaches its most refined expressions.  

Here our Picoides are smudged, our sparrows darkened, and our Merlin the blackest. All these regional variations in plumage are in accordance, and reverence, to the perpetual desolation of their environs.

Hutton’s Vireo, gluttonous miracle. Unwavering in its quest of woodland sustenance, its attire represents the zenith of neo-Bauhaus refinement.

Pacfic Wren, the tireless troglodyte. Its song a tangle of roots, its rags a humble assemblage of shadows and earth.

The Creeper, or as its known locally, Vermiculated Woodsprite; its get-up a perfect confluence of land and light.  

The ouzel, river god cloaked in shale blue, the color of waterworked rock. It wears its feathers in obvious defiance of the garish and wasteful wardrobe of other deities.  Carved and behaving like a miniature inland auklet, the ouzel's opulence lies not in its plumage, but in its throat. Its song, like the river itself, is endless in its dexterity and imagination.

Soon though, the Western Tanager with its fire-in-the-head, will arrive. As will the Black-headed Grosbeak in all its neotropical anti-glory. The various warblers will return in their whorish clownsuits.  Northwest birders, scorched retinas and all, will sing these tramps and transients endless praises while the clouds of Bushtits that have kept us company all winter long with their cheery industry and immaculately balanced feather toning, will pass unnoticed.  People will suddenly see a Black-bellied Plover in their haughty breeding duds, not realizing they have been here all through our darkest hours, haunting the intertidal with their wraith-like cries and plumage the color of sand and time.

So it goes. I will let the flamboyant and ephemeral excitement of migration, with its promise of imported facemelt, and its band of gaudy breeders pass me by. I will stick to the understory and its understatments. I will seek out the peninsulas, turn seaward and let the megavagrants pass by and boggle another’s mind while I consider the crisping of the gulls, watching them wind the gears of time and ride the wind that has shaped them.

Trinidade Petrel All The Way Across The Sky

Common Murres do live up to their name around these parts, but I still think they should be named something else. Wikipedia claims they are sometimes referred to as Thin-billed Murre, but I've never heard that.  Random fact of the day: people in Newfoundland love eating murres.

As promised, here are some more photos from my November pelagic trip out of Half Moon Bay. I think what I really need to do is get on an east coast pelagic, where there are so many potential life birds that I would likely be blinded by the end of a trip. I'm tearing up just thinking about it.

The way I envision my first east coast pelagic (likely a Brian Patteson boat, of course) would be something like what you see in the infamous Double Rainbow video (watch it if for some inexplicable reason you haven't seen it, and yes, he is on mushrooms). It would just be so...intense, you know? Great Shearwater would give me the shakes. Black-capped Petrels would bring me to tears. Band-rumped Storm-Petrels would make me scream for joy. A Trinidade Petrel would have me crapping my pants. I have no intention of eating mushrooms, however, I can totally see myself saying "Whoa. It's a Trinidade Petrel. Trinidade Petrel all the way. Whoa, that's so intense...whoa man.....WHOOOAAAAA! Oh my god oh my god! Woooooooo! Ohhhhhh, wowwwww!!! WOOOOOOO! Yeah! Oh my god, look at that! Trinidade Petrel all the way across the sky! Oh my god! Oh my god! What does this mean?"

Just something to think about. Have a cathartic week everybody.

Northern Fulmar. White morphs are pretty uncommon in California. They look so clean compared to their filthy gray cousins.

Surf Scoter. Not rare, but still rad.

Mew Gulls are celebrated amongst birders for their tenedency to not breed with other gull species, and being easy to identify. And they are, dare I say it, "cute".

A Pink-footed Shearwater has more moves than the average bird; they are perfectly at home flying like this (it's standing on its wing, not flying overhead).

Red-throated Loon. What to say about a basic-plumaged Red-throated Loon? They are....long. Yeah.

Rhinoceros Auklet with mini-horn. There's probably a market for their horns in China, which will eventually lead to their demise. WHY, CHINA?! WHY??????????

Brandt's Cormorant immature.

This was part of the big Ancient Murrelet flock we found. All my photos of said flock totally suck. Sigh.

Brown Pelican. Pretty good composition for a completely uncropped/unrotated photo, I reckon.

Wait. I Thought We Weren't Supposed To Go On Pelagic Trips.

Rhinoceros Auklet. Not a Whiskered Auklet, despite the whiskers. But that's ok, because I have seen hundreds of Whiskered Auklets. No big deal.

Last month I had the opportunity to go on another pelagic with Debi Shearwater, out of Half Moon Bay, California. A big storm was coming in out of the north so we did not get as far offshore as planned, but we still managed to find a lot of the pelagic birds that one could reasonably hope for this time of year.

I'll post some more shots later. Today I'm going out to Point Reyes again to stare at a Dickcissel, amongst other things. Picture me birding.

Bonaparte's Gulls are stylish.

Red Phalaropes were seen on and off throughout the trip. They are too well-camouflaged for the brain of my autofocus, and this is one of the very few usable shots I ended up with.

A Sooty Shearwater impersonates a Black-footed Albatross, in order to mock all the birders on the boat hoping to see a Black-footed Albatross that day (we saw none).

Not tack-sharp, but otherwise I'm pretty happy with this Short-tailed Shearwater shot. They're not easy birds to accurately identify, let alone photograph.

Another Sooty Shearwater for comparison.

We saw a few Marbled Murrelets, including this rather "confiding" bird.

Northern Fulmars were often just a few feet off the stern of the boat. All the better to study their grunginess. For any nonbirders reading this, that strange apparatus on its beak is part of the bird's salt filtration system...they can drink salt water all day, no problem.

Pacific Loon. Economy of style.

The rarely seen cruise-missile flight mode of the Pelagic Cormorant. The pelican exploded a second after this photograph was taken.