Nature Note #190: One Hundred and Ninety Nine
199.
We usually see this number (more often in decimal form) when browsing store shelves for groceries or cheap stationary, but as of this evening, this number represents an achievement. I am one bird away from reaching my goal to observe 200 species of birds in 2016!
This week has been one of the most productive for birding I've had in a long time. Ten species have boosted my year birding total from 189 to one step away from a hard won goal. Here is the story of how this attempt was made!
On Monday, my girlfriend and I had a chance to visit Gooseberry Neck in Westport, MA to try for scoters and other winter waterfowl. Despite our youthful energy, the weather at this time of year is hellbent on making you regret leaving any heated space. The Massachusetts coast is known for two things during the winter months: bone-chilling cold and blustery gales and it certainly delivered both on that day. As I scanned the western horizon for birds, almost immediately two dark shapes appeared on the water. I zoomed in with my scope and identified two female black scoters (Melanitta americana) for the list.
Well named, black scoters are one of three scoter species found in North America. While origin of the name "scoter" is unknown, they can be recognized by the colorful names given to them by hunters such as "butternose" for black scoter after the yellow knob on the bill of the drakes. Their cousins, the white-winged (M. fusca) and surf scoters (M. perspicillata) also have a plethora of nicknames including white-winged coot, blossom-nose, and skunkhead! The females, like most birds, are not as colorful or as recognized for their colors. They have pale grey cheeks and dark heads and bodies in comparison to the jet black males.
On any other day, I would have searched high and low for the surf scoters I needed for the list, but the chilly conditions shrank my desire to search for those surf loving sea ducks and my need to save my fingers from frostbite definitely outweighed any other options.
Tuesday was one of those New England thaw days that we experience a few times each winter. Warm, balmy temperatures taunt us with bright sunshine and melting snow before plunging back into the teens and twenties. After hearing reports about up to five or six short-eared owls (Asio flammeus) having been spotted at the Cumberland Farms, I decided to go and check it out.
No, not the place where you get your gas, coffee, and scratch tickets. This place is far more interesting.
Cumberland Farms Important Bird Area is found in the towns of Middleborough, Halifax, and Plymouth and is privately owned by Cumberland Farms corporation. Some of its land is leased to farmers for agricultural use, while some of it is used at least by one local hunting club during pheasant season. Despite being privately owned, it is accessible to hikers and birders who are treated to some of the largest expanses of grassland in the whole state. Many ground-nesting birds like Eastern meadowlarks (Sturnella magna), bobolinks (Dolichonyx oryzivorus), and even upland sandpiper (Bartramia longicauda) make use of the property in the summer months.
This huge space had been the chosen hiding place for those short-ears for a reason. With over 2000 acres of cover ranging from small trees and shrubs, to arable and fallow, overgrown land, they certainly had plenty of cover to hide in. The American tree sparrows (Spizelloides arborea) that accompanied me on my walk into the property, jingling all the way (albeit a few days too late) certainly agreed.
Perhaps looking for an owl at midday was poor planning on my part. It wouldn't be until I visited my next spot that I would be graced by a little luck.
After driving nearly an hour to visit Gooseberry Neck once more, I was sad to find that a gate blocked access to the causeway over to the island. Further inland, the temperature had hit nearly 60 degrees Fahrenheit, but it seemed that once again the Massachusetts coast had failed to get the memo. The wind was blasting cold waves onto the rocky walls of the causeway and had probably been closed by officials to prevent any one from being washed away. Despite this setback, I instead set off for Horseneck Beach, a state beach that is a hotspot for birders, hikers, and more recently para-surfers.
While the beach yielded no significant life other than my fellow humans just as mad as I was on a blustery winters day, the parking lot was another story. The lot itself was littered with shells and stones likely dropped there by gulls looking to crack open clams and mussels for dinner. Amongst the broken crockery and former homes of the clams were some small white birds: snow buntings (Plectrophenax nivalis)!
These high arctic breeders can be found across the United States during the winter months in open fields, grassy areas, and farmland. Often, they fly around in whirling flocks that resemble a blast of snowy winter weather. In fact, an old folkname for snow buntings was "snowflake" or "snow bird", named in observation of this very behavior.
Wednesday was a bumper crop of a day with a visit to the seaside town of Manomet where the Manomet Bird Observatory is located. While we didn't get the opportunity to visit there, we did set foot at Manomet Point and were treated to four species in the short 45 minutes that we spent there!
The first two species were fairly easy to spot with several male surf scoters floating in their respective surf zone, while half a mile off shore, northern gannets (Morus bassanus) plunged into the icy Cape Cod Bay. Next came the plump purple sandpipers (Calidris maritima) roosting on the rocks below the point.
Purples are another in a long line of bird names that have failed to keep pace with modern identification methods. While one could forgive birds like ring-necked ducks (Aythya collaris) for having a difficult field mark to see from a distance, purple sandpipers aren't even purple in color. They're more of a granite hue than the color of royalty.
Before departing, a lone Bonaparte's gull (Chroicocephalus philadelphia) whooshed past the point like a bat out of hell. Despite, its accelerated speeds, I noted its white triangular wing patches and small head and cataloged it for the list.
Thursday was a damp, depressing day. A nor'easter was making short work of tree branches and powerlines in the frozen north of New Hampshire and New York, while where my girlfriend and I were visiting for the holidays was getting drenched with a miserable, cold rain. In recent days, the Rhode Island ABA rare bird alert had been abuzz with the possibility of a potential greylag goose (Anser anser) having made landfall at a pond near a golf course in Providence.
While this was a significant potential rarity for not only the state of Rhode Island, but also the entire Eastern United States, there has been a hefty dose of skepticism. Even if it turns out to be a legit rarity, there is always the chance it would just be an escaped farmyard bird and that wouldn't look good on anyone's list. Since it has yet to be confirmed by the records committee in the state, I have excluded it from my list for now. Besides, there were other waterfowl on my list whose spots were reserved.
Friday was the last day I would spend looking to reach my goal. A well deserved lifer came in the form of a Barrow's goldeneye (Bucephala islandica) off of a small park in Dighton, MA. It had been reported previously and was hanging out with a group of common goldeneyes, who true to their name, are more likely to be encountered in the waters in and around Massachusetts than the Barrow's.
The key difference between the two is that the males have a distinctive white cheek patch on a dark head with commons having a period, while Barrow's have a comma. Their body colors differ as well, with commons having more extensive white on their back and sides. After securing this lifer, my girlfriend and I spoke with a fellow birder who had also come to look for the Barrow's. We pointed him in the right direction and as thanks, he told us to go check out a nearby pond up the road where he had just spied a cackling goose (Branta hutchinsii).
Unlike the graylag goose which could potentially be a rarity, a cackling goose is a rarity and a much more rewarding prize. Resembling a munchkin version of a Canada goose (B. canadensis), these geese are more commonly found wintering in the west; with the few that make it to the east likely having been blown in by storms or are young birds that were separated from their flock mates and simply went the wrong way. Maybe their Canadian cousins peer pressured them into it, but we may never know. Later in the afternoon, a quick trip to Fort Phoenix in New Bedford allowed us to pick up a few brant (B. bernicla) for both of our lists as well.
I briefly returned to Cumberland Farms just before sundown to try for the short-eared owls once again. I set up my scope and waited. Several harriers wafted over the phragmites in the distance, their wingbeats flickering and taunting both to the wind and my attempts to split them from any potential owls that might be prowling the neighborhood. Overhead, horned larks (Eremophila alpestris) chattered in a small flock and inadvertently became my 199th bird for the year. Darkness began to curtail my vision while a bird with a similar wingbeat to a harrier flew low over the fields in the distance.
Could this have been the owl I was looking for? It was too dark to tell and I knew my time had run out. Tomorrow, unless by some miracle a fox sparrow (Passerella iliaca) barges into a feeder somewhere or a barred owl (Strix varia) peeps at me from a high branch, I will finish my year one bird short.
Am I disappointed? A little bit, but I would never have thought I could reach this point without the support of my loving girlfriend Alison and the drive we both share to watch and seek out birds wherever we might find them.
A new year is coming and it will be filled with new birds to find, to watch, to photograph, and to enjoy. Happy new year to all who read this blog and enjoy its content. I'll be posting the 2016 bird of the year on New Years Day.
Until then...
We usually see this number (more often in decimal form) when browsing store shelves for groceries or cheap stationary, but as of this evening, this number represents an achievement. I am one bird away from reaching my goal to observe 200 species of birds in 2016!
This week has been one of the most productive for birding I've had in a long time. Ten species have boosted my year birding total from 189 to one step away from a hard won goal. Here is the story of how this attempt was made!
 |
| "Where are those butter-noses?" |
Well named, black scoters are one of three scoter species found in North America. While origin of the name "scoter" is unknown, they can be recognized by the colorful names given to them by hunters such as "butternose" for black scoter after the yellow knob on the bill of the drakes. Their cousins, the white-winged (M. fusca) and surf scoters (M. perspicillata) also have a plethora of nicknames including white-winged coot, blossom-nose, and skunkhead! The females, like most birds, are not as colorful or as recognized for their colors. They have pale grey cheeks and dark heads and bodies in comparison to the jet black males.
On any other day, I would have searched high and low for the surf scoters I needed for the list, but the chilly conditions shrank my desire to search for those surf loving sea ducks and my need to save my fingers from frostbite definitely outweighed any other options.
Tuesday was one of those New England thaw days that we experience a few times each winter. Warm, balmy temperatures taunt us with bright sunshine and melting snow before plunging back into the teens and twenties. After hearing reports about up to five or six short-eared owls (Asio flammeus) having been spotted at the Cumberland Farms, I decided to go and check it out.
No, not the place where you get your gas, coffee, and scratch tickets. This place is far more interesting.
Cumberland Farms Important Bird Area is found in the towns of Middleborough, Halifax, and Plymouth and is privately owned by Cumberland Farms corporation. Some of its land is leased to farmers for agricultural use, while some of it is used at least by one local hunting club during pheasant season. Despite being privately owned, it is accessible to hikers and birders who are treated to some of the largest expanses of grassland in the whole state. Many ground-nesting birds like Eastern meadowlarks (Sturnella magna), bobolinks (Dolichonyx oryzivorus), and even upland sandpiper (Bartramia longicauda) make use of the property in the summer months.
Perhaps looking for an owl at midday was poor planning on my part. It wouldn't be until I visited my next spot that I would be graced by a little luck.
After driving nearly an hour to visit Gooseberry Neck once more, I was sad to find that a gate blocked access to the causeway over to the island. Further inland, the temperature had hit nearly 60 degrees Fahrenheit, but it seemed that once again the Massachusetts coast had failed to get the memo. The wind was blasting cold waves onto the rocky walls of the causeway and had probably been closed by officials to prevent any one from being washed away. Despite this setback, I instead set off for Horseneck Beach, a state beach that is a hotspot for birders, hikers, and more recently para-surfers.
While the beach yielded no significant life other than my fellow humans just as mad as I was on a blustery winters day, the parking lot was another story. The lot itself was littered with shells and stones likely dropped there by gulls looking to crack open clams and mussels for dinner. Amongst the broken crockery and former homes of the clams were some small white birds: snow buntings (Plectrophenax nivalis)!
These high arctic breeders can be found across the United States during the winter months in open fields, grassy areas, and farmland. Often, they fly around in whirling flocks that resemble a blast of snowy winter weather. In fact, an old folkname for snow buntings was "snowflake" or "snow bird", named in observation of this very behavior.
Wednesday was a bumper crop of a day with a visit to the seaside town of Manomet where the Manomet Bird Observatory is located. While we didn't get the opportunity to visit there, we did set foot at Manomet Point and were treated to four species in the short 45 minutes that we spent there!
The first two species were fairly easy to spot with several male surf scoters floating in their respective surf zone, while half a mile off shore, northern gannets (Morus bassanus) plunged into the icy Cape Cod Bay. Next came the plump purple sandpipers (Calidris maritima) roosting on the rocks below the point.
 |
| Neighbors |
 |
| Purples on a rock |
Before departing, a lone Bonaparte's gull (Chroicocephalus philadelphia) whooshed past the point like a bat out of hell. Despite, its accelerated speeds, I noted its white triangular wing patches and small head and cataloged it for the list.
Thursday was a damp, depressing day. A nor'easter was making short work of tree branches and powerlines in the frozen north of New Hampshire and New York, while where my girlfriend and I were visiting for the holidays was getting drenched with a miserable, cold rain. In recent days, the Rhode Island ABA rare bird alert had been abuzz with the possibility of a potential greylag goose (Anser anser) having made landfall at a pond near a golf course in Providence.
 |
| International goose of mystery or common barnyard straggler? |
Friday was the last day I would spend looking to reach my goal. A well deserved lifer came in the form of a Barrow's goldeneye (Bucephala islandica) off of a small park in Dighton, MA. It had been reported previously and was hanging out with a group of common goldeneyes, who true to their name, are more likely to be encountered in the waters in and around Massachusetts than the Barrow's.
 |
| Drake Barrow's goldeneye (circled) with common goldeneyes |
I briefly returned to Cumberland Farms just before sundown to try for the short-eared owls once again. I set up my scope and waited. Several harriers wafted over the phragmites in the distance, their wingbeats flickering and taunting both to the wind and my attempts to split them from any potential owls that might be prowling the neighborhood. Overhead, horned larks (Eremophila alpestris) chattered in a small flock and inadvertently became my 199th bird for the year. Darkness began to curtail my vision while a bird with a similar wingbeat to a harrier flew low over the fields in the distance.
Could this have been the owl I was looking for? It was too dark to tell and I knew my time had run out. Tomorrow, unless by some miracle a fox sparrow (Passerella iliaca) barges into a feeder somewhere or a barred owl (Strix varia) peeps at me from a high branch, I will finish my year one bird short.
Am I disappointed? A little bit, but I would never have thought I could reach this point without the support of my loving girlfriend Alison and the drive we both share to watch and seek out birds wherever we might find them.
A new year is coming and it will be filled with new birds to find, to watch, to photograph, and to enjoy. Happy new year to all who read this blog and enjoy its content. I'll be posting the 2016 bird of the year on New Years Day.
Until then...
 |
| Good birding to all and a have a happy new year! |
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