Vancouver Day Two: Tsawassen – Maplewood Flats – Point Roberts

Port Roberts from Tsawassen jetty

Another great day, though the weather was less welcoming than yesterday’s. When I set out to pick Soheil up about 7:15, the clouds were high and thin, but we birded the Tsawassen jetty in occasional sprinkles and mist, Maplewood Flats in light rain, and Port Roberts — on the other side of the international boundary — in steady rain. But who cares? Lots of birds!

We timed it to arrive at Tsawassen with a good hour and a half of rising tide, hoping that the water would push some shorebirds into sight on the rocks. It’s worked before, but not this morning: the flock of half a thousand dunlin and a hundred or more black-bellied plover stayed out of sight most of the time, visible only when it was startled into flight by some activity at the ferry terminal.

Black oystercatcher

Black oystercatchers, happily, were more obliging. A pair was roosting on a gravel bar in the little mitigation marsh, and at one point a mad chase took place over our heads, with two trios flying low overhead with shallow, stylized wingbeats and incessant piping calls, bills pointed downward. The loafing pair wasn’t much interested in joining in, but instead flew over to the jetty beneath us, tucking their bills in disdain for their fellows who hadn’t got down to the serious business of napping as quickly as they did.

Lots of pelagic cormorants, common goldeneye, and horned grebes shared the waters with white-winged scotersgreater scaup, and a few common loons. The great spectacle, as usual at the site, was the black brant flock, hundreds of birds on the water, in the air, and on the gravel bars.

black brant, Tsawassen, BC

Other waterfowl may be more colorful, but few are as elegantly attired as these somber beauties.

The weather seemed to be getting no worse, so we decided to make hay while the … well, that isn’t really suitable for Vancouver; in any event, we drove north to Maplewood Flats, hoping for a pleasant walk and some birding. We had both, though the rain was noticeably heavier by the time we’d walked as far as the little salt marsh.

Maplewood Flats

Shorebirds were disappointing here, too (read: absent), but there was a good selection of ducks on the water, including both common and Barrow’s goldeneye and at least one dapper male Eurasian wigeon.

Eurasian wigeon, Maplewood Flats

The feeders were busy with dozens of Oregon juncos and American goldfinches; a fine male rufous hummingbird fed from the flowers, and the couple of pine siskins we found were our first for the trip, as was a ruby-crowned kinglet high in the cottonwood twigs. A very pleasant surprise was two male mountain bluebirds in the marsh, hunting the spartina as if it were buffalo grass.

mountain bluebird, Maplewood Flats

This was only the second time I’d seen that species in Vancouver, after an early morning encounter on Jericho Beach when we lived in Kitsilano.

Fish and chips called, and we watched the rain settle in for real as we ate. The postprandial stroll we’d planned lost its allure with each raindrop; we decided instead to drive down to Point Roberts, that little disjunct dab of Washington State. I’d been there before only to mail packages, and was excited to get to bird this famous spot in spite of the drizzle.

Point Roberts, Washington

It was wet enough by the time we arrived at Lighthouse Park in the late afternoon that we simply sat in the car and watched the birds go by. And the mammals, too: we had at least five California sea lions, that many of more harbor seals, and a good dozen or more harbor (apparently) porpoises. Long-tailed ducks and surf scoters flew by continually, as did plenty of pelagic cormorants and black brant. I’m eager to go back sometime when it’s a little warmer and a little dryer — it would pay off well, I think.

Tomorrow morning, with more rain in the forecast, we’re going to start by taking the ferry to Victoria and back, then see if we can find something indoor to do. My vote: the anthropology museum at UBC, where we’re certain to see birds, too.

Birds

Black Brant, Canada Goose, Trumpeter Swan, American Wigeon, Eurasian Wigeon, Mallard, Northern Shoveler, Northern Pintail, Green-winged Teal, Greater Scaup, Surf Scoter, White-winged Scoter, Long-tailed Duck, Bufflehead, Common Goldeneye, Barrow’s Goldeneye, Red-breasted Merganser, Common Merganser

Red-throated Loon, Common Loon

Horned Grebe

Double-crested Cormorant, Brandt’s Cormorant, Pelagic Cormorant

Great Blue Heron

Turkey Vulture

Bald Eagle, Red-tailed Hawk, Rough-legged Hawk

Black Oystercatcher

Black-bellied Plover

Dunlin, Greater Yellowlegs

Rhinoceros Auklet

Mew Gull, California Gull, Thayer’s Gull, Glaucous-winged Gull

Rock Pigeon, Eurasian Collared-Dove

Rufous Hummingbird

Downy Woodpecker, Northern Flicker

Northwestern Crow

Violet-green Swallow, Tree Swallow

Black-capped Chickadee

Bewick’s Wren

Ruby-crowned Kinglet

Mountain Bluebird, American Robin

European Starling

Yellow-rumped Warbler

Oregon Towhee, Sooty Fox Sparrow, Song Sparrow, Oregon Junco

Red-winged Blackbird

House Finch, Pine Siskin, American Goldfinch

House Sparrow

Mammals

Eastern Gray Squirrel, Douglas Squirrel

California Sea Lion, Harbor Seal

Harbor Porpoise

Share

Vancouver Day One: Steveston – Iona – Reifel Refuge

DSC04607

What a blast! I picked Soheil up at his lodgings in Richmond a bit after 7:00 this morning, taking the time to enjoy northwestern crows on the way down; I’d expected rain, but there was just the barest hint of a sprinkle on my early morning drive, and though the chill never lifted, all day long we stayed dry — and even saw some sunshine by the time we enjoyed an early supper this evening under the watchful eyes of Ladner’s bald eagles.

I’d heard that white-winged crossbills were to be found in Steveston, so we zipped down there to start our morning’s birding. We stepped out of the car to the songs of Puget Sound white-crowned sparrows (yea) and Eurasian collared-doves (less yea), but after a few minutes of hearing and seeing nothing loxiac, walked the few feet down to the river. Glaucous-winged and mew gulls loafed on logs in the water, while several bald eagles kept the ducks busy; one of the eagles missed all the fun, assigned instead to incubating or brooding the contents of one of the huge riverside nests. A big, big-nosed pinniped moving through the water was probably a California sea lion.

rufous hummingbird

The lawn of the condo complex behind us was hopping, too. A suet feeder proved irresistible to a couple of pairs of bushtits, and the first of the day’s half dozen rufous hummingbirds was here, too — all but one of them were males, a couple of them in vigorous “shuttling” display.

varied thrush

The manicured bluegrass itself provided the feeding ground for a fine varied thrush, which eventually gave up being admired and flew up into the bare tree above our heads, where he sang several times that eeriest of Pacific northwest bird songs.

20180403_115708

The sparrow flock was shyer, but we had great looks at Lincoln, song, sooty foxgolden-crowned, and Puget Sound white-crowned sparrows, all popping out onto the grass to feed for a moment or two before taking refuge again in the hedge.

song sparrow morphna

Wonderful to be back in a place where golden-crowned is the most abundant passerellid, the song sparrows are red, and the fox sparrows are plain-headed.

20180403_162917

The biggest surprise was a flock of 34 swans that flew overhead, not trumpeting but whistling as they passed. I was too startled to make entirely certain that all of the birds were tundra swans or if perhaps there were just a few vocal birds of that species joining up with the much more expected trumpeters; tundras are rarish birds here, and we were lucky to be in the right place at the right time. We would not see any trumpeter swans until the last stop of our day, when we found sixty or seventy loafing off Westham Island.

I could have spent the rest of the week there, and we will certainly drop back by at some point to have another listen for the crossbills, but there are even birdier, even more scenic sites around Vancouver than condominium parking lots.

Iona

With an eye on the tide tables, we dashed north to Iona, where spotted towhees, another rufous hummingbird, and a few hundred noisy snow geese greeted us. The ponds were full of water and full of ducks: pinwheeling northern shovelers, elegant northern pintail and ring-necked ducks, and busily feeding lesser scaup by the hundreds.

northern pintail

Sparrows of what were now the expected species fed on the roads, and flyovers included my first violet-green swallows of the year and a surprise western meadowlark.

If the meadowlark was a surprise, the American minks were a shock.

American mink

Soheil saw the first one while I was busy with song sparrows; a few minutes later we saw it or another, and a few minutes later three more or less together on the path. As we watched, one of them dropped into the water and re-emerged with a dead, probably long-dead, duck, holding it tight in its teeth as it dragged it backwards across the trail, only to lose its prize when an adult bald eagle dropped out of nowhere to steal the corpse and send the mink, lucky not to have been the eagle’s second course, scampering into the next pond.

We walked out and around the “outer” pond, where marsh wrens and red-winged blackbirds were busy staking out their territories and a nice flock of tree and violet-green swallows skimmed and drank in front of us.

Iona outer pond

We’d planned to head out the jetty, too, but the rapidly ebbing tide and the cold breeze off the Salish Sea convinced us that there probably weren’t many birds out there anyway. So how about Reifel?

DSC04502

The place was insane, as always, with the pushy half-tame mallards joined by ducks of several other species, sparrows, and blackbirds in the rush for birdseed.

DSC04596

We braved our way through the madding crowd, pausing to admire a rare black-crowned night-heron at its sullen roost, and headed out to the foreshore. Another flock of snow geese did its best to deafen us, watched closely by as many as fifty-five bald eagles perched out on the tidal flat.

Oregon junco

The real show at Reifel this afternoon, though, was the northern harriers. We’d seen scattered birds all day here and there, but as afternoon ceded to early evening, the big cattail marshes gave up their store of long-winged hawks; eventually we were watching at least five, including two beautiful silver males. It made us wonder how many owls were waiting on the ground out there for the sun to set.

We wouldn’t find out: Reifel has an early curfew, and I was cold and hungry. We stopped in Ladner for supper, fish and chips while we watched eagles fly up and down the water out our window. In the sunshine. Tomorrow is going to be a great day!

Birds

Snow Goose, Canada Goose, Trumpeter Swan, Tundra Swan, Wood Duck, Gadwall, American Wigeon, Mallard, Northern Shoveler, Northern Pintail, Green-winged Teal, Ring-necked Duck, Lesser Scaup, Greater Scaup, Bufflehead, Hooded Merganser, Common Merganser

Double-crested Cormorant

Great Blue Heron, Black-crowned Night-Heron

Northern Harrier, Bald Eagle, Red-tailed Hawk

Virginia Rail, American Coot

Killdeer

Wilson’s Snipe

Mew Gull, Glaucous-winged Gull

Rock Pigeon, Eurasian Collared-Dove

Rufous Hummingbird

Northern Flicker

Northwestern Crow

Violet-green Swallow, Tree Swallow

Black-capped Chickadee

Bushtit

Marsh Wren

American Robin

Varied Thrush

European Starling

Cedar Waxwing

Oregon Towhee, Sooty Fox Sparrow, Song Sparrow, Lincoln’s Sparrow, Puget Sound Sparrow, Gambel’s Sparrow, Golden-crowned Sparrow, Oregon Junco

Red-winged Blackbird, Western Meadowlark, Brewer’s Blackbird

House Finch, American Goldfinch

House Sparrow

Mammals

American Mink

Eastern Gray Squirrel

California Sea Lion

 

Share

VENT Nebraska: Day Seven

Dawn found us back at the Alda bridge, in a light breeze and light sleet, listening to the cranes wake up and the endless flocks of snow geese overhead. As the skies grew brighter, against all odds, Danny picked a white dot out of the vast crane islands — an adult whooping crane, almost certainly the one we had enjoyed a few days earlier just a mile or so down the road.

The weather wasn’t improving, so we pushed on to Gretna and Schramm State Park, where all was quiet but for a noisy belted kingfisher nervously hunting the old fish ponds. A walk along the densely wooded blufftops was hardly any birdier, with a heard-only myrtle warbler our only feathered reward.

Schramm Park

Schram on a sunnier winter’s day than we had this year

The drive back to Omaha should have been shorter than it was, and traffic was still jammed when it came time to head out for dinner. But we got there, and slept the happy sleep of the bird-sated as we looked forward to the return home.

Share

Other People’s Bird Books: A New Jersey Family

This is Montclair State University’s copy of John Francis McDermott‘s edition of the 1843 journal of Edward Harris, friend, patron, and frequent field companion of John James Audubon.

Eleanor Darrach Sappington to D. d'Arcy Northwood

Like most of that library’s general natural history titles from mid-century, this book was a gift from J. D’Arcy and Anne Ardrey Northwood, familiar names indeed in Pennsylvania and New Jersey birding circles: D’Arcy was the first curator of Mill Grove, and the couple’s “ramshackle cottage” at Cape May would eventually become New Jersey Audubon’s Northwood Center.

But this particular volume has another layer of provenance, attested by the inscription to D’Arcy Northwood from Eleanor Darrach Sippington. Good old Google helped me pin her down as one of the six children of Susannah Ustick Harris and Alfred Darrach; Susannah Harris was one of the four children of Edward Harris and his second wife (and first cousin), Mary G. Ustick.

What made my smile especially broad on reading the inscription was the fact that I had the pleasure of dinner with another of Harris’s descendants a couple of years ago in the Bahamas. She is certainly too young to have known her cousin Eleanor, but the connection shows once again just how small the world of birding can be, not just in space but over time.

 

 

 

Share

VENT Nebraska: Day Six

greater prairie chicken videoAnother early morning and another prairie grouse species in display — this time greater prairie-chickens, 20 minutes straight north of Mullen. Unlike the whirligig antics of the sharp-tails, the booming of the prairie-chickens is a stately affair, but no less deadly serious to the performers.

greater prairie chicken, Nebraska, MarchThis lek was a bit on the small side last year, but today we counted no fewer than 32 males at one point, no doubt drawn in by the apparent presence of an early hen or two doing a little window shopping.

The eerie moaning was still echoing in our ears when we left the lek for breakfast. Eggs and hashbrowns sounded awfully good, but we wound up making one unscheduled stop for a big dark bird on a telephone pole.

ferruginous hawkFerruginous hawks are uncommon winterers and scarce breeders in the Nebraska Sandhills, and we don’t always get the lingering views this one granted us; we were even able to step out of the shuttle for photos, and the bird was still perched above the road when we left.

After breakfast — another good one at the Meadowlark Cafe — we bade farewell for the drive south to North Platte, interrupted by a quick stop to look at a couple of roadside pronghorn (much better views than the pair we’d had at a distance the day before).

cackling gooseThe pond at Cody Park gave us the expected close views of cackling geese, often standing or swimming right next to Canadas; there was also a lone trumpeter swan, and the usual congregation of ducks included scattered redheads, common goldeneye, and lesser scaup.

And then back to civilization — or at least to what passes for civilization in the form of interstate 80. We zipped along to Grand Island, checked in to our hotel, and had dinner before driving south to the Alda bridge for another fine evening with the cranes. The stiff breeze cleared the human crowds out pretty quickly, nd by the time we left there was nothing to hear but the roar of the flocks settling above and below the bridge. Just as it should be.

Share