Birds and Art in Tuscany: Day Zero

Wow, it’s a long ways from Vancouver to Rome! But my flights–there were, blessedly, only two, from Vancouver to Toronto and Toronto to Rome–were no more harrowing than I suppose they had to be, and we landed at Fiumicino on time–and in rain. It had let up by the time I got to the waiting area for the hotel shuttle, which is, of course, outdoors and uncovered. So I stood there in a light mist, watching Italian Sparrows and European Starlings–and then getting absolutely dumped on for the last twenty minutes of the wait.

When the shuttle did finally leave (it was my fault for having missed the first one by five minutes; far better to have missed it by 55!), we made great time along the highway to the hotel, an enormous Holiday Inn in a business park dominated by the United Nations’ World Food Program.

We have a nice view, and a nice room, too; sometimes Holiday Inn is just what you want after a long trip.

They even put up a sign so Marco could find me this evening when he arrives from Arezzo.

Well, maybe it isn’t just for him, but it will do.

Ever since my first summer in Europe, a quarter of a century ago, I’ve been very good about making sure that I stay up the first day, and so this morning, after washing up and rearranging my gear to be more convenient in the minibus, I set out for a walk. Not much happening around here on a Sunday, which was nice; and the birding surprised me. Even before leaving the room I’d had the usual Serins, Greenfinches, European Blackbirds, Hooded Crows, Blackcaps, Italian Sparrows, Yellow-legged Gull, and so on–common birds all, all to be found, mutatis mutandis, in any big western European city.

As soon as I stepped out the door, I heard the peeved ticking of Sardinian Warbler, and soon enough found a pair feeding in the umbrella pines; at one point the male landed nearly at my feet to pick something up he’d knocked out of the tiny male cones. The same pines had Wrens, Firecrests, Long-tailed Tits, and a Eurasian Nuthatch.

A nice start! This office park is laid out in concentric rings, with apparently only one entrance (and thus only one exit); I wandered around in it like a rat in a maze, bouncing from one dead end to another until I finally figured out that I needed to leave the same way the bus had come in. Maybe I should have got a degree in geology, or psychology, or psychogeology, whatever field teaches you how to get out of the labyrinth.

In any event, I quickly found a trashy little road running along the railroad tracks, and walked it slowly through the mist. Cetti’s Warblers and a couple of Common Nightingales were noisy in the wet ditch, where I also saw the first mammal of the trip (disappointingly, an introduced muskrat). Orchard remnants had several European Turtle Doves, and at least two European Bee-eaters were hunting on the other side of the tracks; as I watched, they were interrupted by a very snazzy Hobby, which flashed past, then flared to join the House Martins and Common Swifts for a moment before disappearing behind the hill.

Not bad for a few mid-day hours on the outskirts of Rome! I can’t wait for the tour to officially start tomorrow morning; we’re headed first to Tarquinia and then to Manciano, right in the sweet heart of Tuscany.

An unexpectedly lousy Serin photo–but look at how crisp the focus is on those pine needles.
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The Conscience of a Birder

Well, rats.

As the breathless tone of yesterday’s entry reveals, I was excited yesterday morning at Jericho Park to find the bird above, which I gleefully ticked off as a Western Gull–or something very, very close to it.

As I pondered, though, the pale eye and, especially, the orange tint to the orbital ring started to worry me. I sent the photos off to a couple of friends with massively more expertise and experience than I’ll ever have with these birds, and the answers came in: Steve said he would have called it a hybrid “but who can really tell,” and Guy agreed, noting among other things that the mantle was too pale even for northern occidentalis.

So this one goes down as a dark hybrid or introgressant, and my search for a pure Western Gull in British Columbia continues.

I now read a different meaning into the bird’s posture.

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Jericho Gulls

Again and again it strikes me how much Jericho Beach reminds me of Mount Auburn–without the dead bodies, of course, and with a much better gull selection.

I don’t have my lists at hand, but I’m pretty much certain that my larid list for the Massachusetts cemetery comprises three species: Great Black-backed, American Herring, and Ring-billed Gulls. Without any of those three, this morning’s Jericho Beach walk produced four species.

Four species–depending on how you count ’em. Sooner or later I’m going to have to come to terms with the pugetensis problem. Our most abundant gull here in Vancouver is Glaucous-winged Gull, or at least birds that look more or less like Glaucous-winged, with pale upperparts and blue-gray wingtips (whence the name).

An awful lot of those birds, however, have wingtips that are slightly too dark for a classic Glaucous-wing, suggesting that somewhere on not too high a branch in their family tree perches an American Herring or Western Gull. Some of them have primaries so sooty as even to be mistaken for one of those species.

I try to look at such birds when I can, but until this morning hadn’t run across anything overly convincing. Then, while I was watching my first Bonaparte’s Gulls of the spring off the beach, in came this beauty.

When it landed on the pier–in less than ideal light, unfortunately–the dark upperparts and broad secondary “skirt” were obvious.

Those features plus the black wingtip and very bright bill left me satisfied that if this wasn’t a pure Western Gull, then it was at least so near the dark end of the hybrid spectrum as to make its mixed ancestry undetectible.

The bird was aggressive, and I had some excellent comparative views of its upperpart color with the paler mantles of the Glaucous-wings in flight; this, sadly, is the best photo I got of the combination.

Pretty exciting, and a state (uh, sorry: province, eh?) bird for me. Short of putting the blird in a bender and dipping in some litmus paper–or whatever the scientists do–we’ll never know whether miscegenation lurks in its ancestral past, but I found it pretty convincing. [But see here for my later recanting.]

And the day’s fourth gull species? No surprises there: Mew Gull. There are relatively few around right now, but one fine adult was on the first pond with the ducks.

I especially like this picture and the way it shows the smudgy “shawl” on the hindneck, already lost at this time of year on most adult Mew Gulls.

I still don’t have a handle at all on distinguishing these “Short-billed” Gulls from Common and Kamchatka Gulls, though apparently the pale eye is a good indication that I didn’t miss a major vagrant.

More gulls tomorrow, I hope!

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Blue Sky in Vancouver!

It doesn’t happen very often, but the end of last week was bright and clear and almost warm. Alison and I spent a quick late afternoon hour at Jericho Park, enjoying the lingering Eurasian Wigeon drake and admiring in spite of ourselves the Bald Eagles overhead.

There are two nests at the west end of Jericho Beach, and the bird is otherwise so common that no one here really pays it any attention–except to sic their dogs on them when they’re patrolling the shoreline at low tide. Given its splendid recovery in the last couple of decades, Bald Eagle really isn’t a “birder’s bird” anymore, either, with but still I find them impossible to ignore, whether they’re passing our window over breakfast or wheeling high against that rarest of sights in Vancouver, a deep blue sky.

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A Good Preen

Saturday at dawn: Alison and I arrived early at Jericho Park so that Gellert could get a little exercise too. While he and Alison kept tabs on a drake Eurasian Wigeon on the lawn, I wandered over to the beach, where a few Common Mergansers and Barrow’s Goldeneye were bobbing around. It was bath time for this goldeneye, and his contortions produced some odd and some oddly beautiful views.

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