I Scream, You Scream, We All Scream For Herons

The love of all things Heron continues on ABWCH this summer with the second species of crowned Night-Herons being seen in as many weeks.  This time it was the much more expected but no less appreciated Black-crowned Night-Heron taking its turn being so abiding.

Black-crowned Night-Heron

Show me a birder with an impressive life list, and I’ll show you a birder that harbors some degree of pain from certain birds on that list: a heard-only bird, a quick glimpse at another, a juvenile or raggedy individual, or maybe even a dubious addition.  Such items on my list have included a Red-shouldered Hawk eyeball, a Bell’s Vireo butt, and a Sage Flasher.  Yet another, from once-upon-a-time, was a scope-only view of a young BCNH.  It was enough for the lifer/county two-fer tic, but it left me wanting.  This redemptive sighting finally filled that void.

Black-crowned Night-Heron

I remember as a fledgling birder being shocked to learn that this unique Heron with its coiffed plumage could be found in Minnesota.  Perhaps I never bumped into one before I was a birder because of its secretive nature or the hours it keeps. Or perhaps I never saw one because of its proclivities for the water holes and riparian areas of metropolitan backyards.

Minnehaha CreekI have always wanted to see a properly-plumaged adult and seeing as how I just don’t turn them up on the prairie, I took full advantage of Bob Burmaster’s reliable find along Minnehaha Creek in Minneapolis.

And things have never been the same. IMG_5651

Veritas Caput

In 1832, an explorer by the name of Henry Rowe Schoolcraft and his men were guided by  Ozawindib, a Chippewa Indian, to the source of the Mississippi River in northern Minnesota,  a small, pristine lake surrounded by beautiful White and Red Pines. Not liking the Chippewa name Omushkos Sagaeigun or Elk Lake, Schoolcraft took the last four letters of the Latin word, veritas (truth) and the first two letters of the Latin word caput (head) and came up with Itasca as a new name that he felt more adequately described the significance of the lake that served as the true head of the Mississippi.

Lake ItascaThat’s it, right there–the rocks at the bottom right of the photo above mark the terminus of Lake Itasca and the beginning of the mighty Mississippi.  Here massive hordes of humanity, some more clothed than others, take their turn walking, slipping, and selfie-ing across the rocks at the Mississippi Headwaters in Itasca State Park.

Evan Marin ItascaGetting a photo of your significant people making the famous 20-foot trek without other tourists in the frame is about as easy as seeing a Black-backed Woodpecker in the park.  Of course, both become much easier in January…

This time of year is more fun for kids, though.

Evan Marin

Evan and Marin crossing the Mississippi

Evan and Marin were not the only ones in our family being baptized this day as true Minnesotans–Melissa and I were embarrassingly also making our first walk across the headwaters.  Though that, or the impressive virgin forests of towering Pines, should have been enough motivation to finally make it to Itasca, it was another Veritas Caput that served as the impetus to get us there–Mr. Bob Janssen, a.k.a. the godfather of Minnesota birding who literally wrote a book on the subject, was leading a bird walk at Itasca State Park.  Call us groupies, call us super-fans, but we were in.

Evan Bob Janssen

Evan birding with Bob Janssen–Again!

The truth is that due to a rough night in the camper for all of us, we slept in and missed meeting up with Bob’s group to begin the bird walk. Oh well, I thought, I’ve birded with Bob before and this was more or less a beginner’s bird walk. I reasoned that Evan would have the same reaction since birds aren’t that big of a deal to him anymore. I couldn’t have been more wrong. When he woke and found out we missed the walk, he was in tears.  Apparently birds aren’t that big of a deal, but birds with BOB is still a really big deal.  Ugh.

I told Evan we would try to find the group in the 32,000 acre park.  I didn’t tell him that finding an American Three-toed Woodpecker would have been easier.  But I had read the chapter on Itasca State Park in Bob’s Birds of Minnesota State Parks, and I had a pretty good guess of what trail we might find them on.  Even still, we were an hour-and-a-half late.  It was a long shot at best.  Amazingly, and as you can tell from the photo above, we did stumble upon Bob Janssen and his followers.  Whew!

We were just in time to catch the group to find out that the next stop was the Headwaters area at the far north end of the park.  Evan and I had to make a stop at the campsite on the way where we snagged a pretty sweet FOY, the Broad-winged Hawk.

Broad-winged Hawk

We finally met back up with our group at the Headwaters parking lot and began a leisurely walk looking and listening at…nothing.  It was super quiet which was strange since fall migration should have been going on all around us.  Now pay attention to this–if you want to be a better birder, go birding with people better at it than you.  The quiet woods did not daunt the 84-years-young Bob.  You don’t get to that age and that fame without acquiring a few tricks up your sleeve. Bob was listening intently for Chickadees. Wait, what?

As soon as Bob heard a couple Black-capped Chickadees, he pulled out his mp3 player and speaker and played an Eastern Screech-Owl mobbing tape.  The recording is of a Screech giving its tremulo call and being mobbed by about a thousand pissed off Chickadees.  What happened next is that the Chickadees in real life showed up with pitchforks and torches.  That brings in the onlookers, the Warblers and Vireos.  All the sudden we were swarmed with birds that didn’t even seem to exist a minute ago–Blackburnian Warblers, Northern Parulas, a Black-throated Green, Blue-headed Vireos were just a few.

Northern ParulaThough the light was bad and some birds were changing into their fall clothes, the flurry of activity kept it exciting even if it was just over binocular views.  I did manage to photograph a cooperative juvenile Chestnut-sided Warbler.  Just as some people aren’t fond of babies (the human kind), I am not found of juvenile birds. This one I found striking, however.

Chestnut-sided Warbler

We made several stops to play the tape in somewhat open areas, like where a path crossed the Not-so-Mighty Mississippi:

Mississippi River

Fun Fact: The Mississippi flows north for several miles before it turns south.

Though many of us in the group called out sightings of birds, Bob himself had the best sighting even though I lack the photographic evidence to prove it–a beautiful male Golden-winged Warbler.  It’s always a treat to see this bird that, if we did not have the Common Loon, would make a fine choice for a state bird, since Minnesota is responsible for hosting 47% of its breeding population.  Fun Not-So-Fact: Once we hit 51%, MN will control GWWA conservation policies in North AND South America.

Like the Mississippi itself, all good things must come to an end, and we parted company with the group and said goodbye to Bob, vowing to meet up again over a Meeker County Snowy Owl or Kandiyohi County Blue Grosbeak, which has now become our customary goodbye. We declined to go to the book talk, though it would have been a chance for Bob to sign the book to me and not Evan this time. Letting bygones be bygones, it was time for Evan and I to go from birding mode back into just regular camping mode, exceptions being made, of course, for Northwoods chickens that cross the road.

Ruffed Grouse

Ruffed Grouse

The Grouse and the aforementioned Broad-winged Hawk were year birds for me. Normally I wouldn’t care about such a thing, but with all my out-of-state travels I figured 2015 was my best chance of ever breaking 300 in a single year.  I’m very close, but it’s still going to be a stretch. Thanks to Melissa who woke me up at 1 AM and alerted me to a calling Barred Owl, I made another stride toward my goal.

That goal, along with the mouth-watering prospect of seeing another Black-backed Woodpecker, propelled me to go on one last birding hike in the early morning on our last day of camping.  Sadly, I did not encounter any of the shadowy Woodpeckers on Schoolcraft Trail, but I did find another year bird and get my first ever photos of a Brown Creeper.

Brown Creeper

Brown Creeper

Birding with Bob, nabbing four year birds (one a photographic first), and crossing the Headwaters made for a great inaugural trip to Itasca State Park. I am quite remiss, though, that I did not show you pictures of the incredible Red and White Pines of the park.  Come for the river, stay for the Pines, the t-shirts say.  Next time, which I can guarantee you there will be a next time, there shall be pictures of the Pines, and if we are all lucky, there shall be Black-backed Woodpeckers on them!

A Woman Who Cried Heron and started a mad dash to the metro

Occasionally the President comes to town to give a stump speech. Sometimes young heartthrob actors from the latest tween movie make publicity appearances at the Mall of America. More reliably and regrettably, the Yankees make their annual visit to Target Field. Yet none of these is a reason that any self-respecting person would drop everything and head to the Cities.

But this is.

Yellow-crowned Night-Heron

News of this Yellow-crowned Night-Heron was a huge jolt of life to the Minnesota birding scene that was just beginning to emerge from the summer birding doldrums with the onset of migration. Like the bird’s head, the report of the state’s first YCNH since 2012 was bold and shocking. Like its intricately patterned, two-toned back and wings, the announcement was subtle and smartly crafted. With a picture of the Heron above, Laura Segala announced her phenomenal discovery on FB:

Today – First time I’ve ever seen a yellow-crowned night heron in my yard (Plymouth – Hennepin Co). Or ever. #lifer

And why would a YCNH not want to live here?

IMG_5511The two large backyard ponds and connecting channel had many shady, reclusive haunts and corners from the overgrown vegetation along the banks. And there were enough large snails and crayfish around for Herons to have a “Chubby Bunny” contest too.

Yellow-crowned Night-HeronThe announcement came in early enough in the evening that those lucky Twin Cities birders could swarm it immediately.  My trip was too far to get there before dark.  I was there the next day, though. Conveniently I had to go to the Cities that day anyway. Inconveniently, the time of day was wrong and the bird did not come out.  So I made the 1.5 hour trek again the following day, only this time in the evening when the bird had been showing.  It took nearly two hours of waiting, but just as I was about to call it quits, the bird flew in from its treetop roost to begin its foraging.

Yellow-crowned Night-Heron

And for the first time ever, this birder also experienced the rush of seeing a Heron.

Yellow-crowned Night-Heron

Scrawny To Buff In Just One Month

Like so many lottery winners, young professional athletes, and bird bloggers everywhere this past month, ABWCH has fallen on hard times lately after enjoying a ridiculous fortune of good birds and lifers this past spring and early summer.  It’s been downright pathetic–my highly local and infrequent birding in July has sent me on several fruitless chases for petty things like a county Red-necked Grebe.  I even took a picture of an INBU. Sad, I know.  Actually, the break from serious birding and blogging has been delightfully refreshing…sleeping in every day, binge-watching TV shows on Netflix, going camping with the family, selling off baby/little kid stuff and making beaucoup bucks (not really) for a Florida trip someday. Poor men excel at dreaming, and even though I’m enjoying plotting a Disney trip as a Trojan Horse to get to Florida, it was time to put up a solid, meaty post that might even turn a vegan’s head. I was *this close* to putting up a post highlighting an eclectic assortment of blasé sightings from this past month.  Thankfully today’s events spared us all that embarrassment.

I don’t know if it’s the first wave of an attack from Canada or not, but the Buff-breasted Sandpipers showed up en masse all across the state on the same day last week.  I’ve never seen a more coordinated campaign by any migrating species before, let alone by a really good one. Ron Erpelding found a pile of them about a half hour from here in Renville County as well as an equally impressive pile of Upland Sandpipers. For good measure he also turned up a Blue Grosbeak in this area which is NORTH of where I found a bunch last year.  Followers of ABWCH know that this area is already pushing the envelope of the north and east range limits of this species and that I’m keenly tracking the movement since BLGR are now just 3.5 miles away from the home county.

Last week I went and saw the 25 Buff-breasteds and 13 Uplands but got abysmal views of both.  I capped my mediocre outing with a dip on the BLGR. Other birders, though, in their Buff-breasted quests exercised the power of the Patagonia Picnic Table and turned up an additional Blue Grosbeak and a Western Kingbird.

Though I lacked good photos of Buff-breasted Sandpipers, those BLGR gnawed at me more than anything.  I had to go back.  Plus my dad was visiting and had never seen a Blue Grosbeak before. So I got back in the game today and set an alarm. An hour later we were treated to out-of-this-world looks at seven remaining(?) Buff-breasteds.Buff-breasted SandpiperBuff-breasted SandpiperThis ripped bird was a lifer for Dad.

Buff-breasted SandpiperBuff-breasted SandpiperI did not take this photo-op for granted.  These birds are usually only found with the aid of scopes.  Having them 100 feet out the car window is about as good as it gets.

Buff-breasted SandpiperBuff-breasted Sandpiper

Buff-breasted Sandpiper

Dad and I also found a few of the much more conspicuous, albeit backlit UPSAs.

Upland SandpiperDad’s not sure if this is a lifer or not.  No doubt about its existence on his list now though.

Upland SandpiperUpland SandpiperAs delightful as the Sandpiper appetizers were, it was time for the main course: Blue Grosbeaks. We struck out on finding the one closest to the hay field, but not the other one a mile away.  As soon as I rolled down my window I heard that sweet, sweet familiar sound of a singing male.  After a bit of patience I was able to get Dad his life look at this special bird.

Blue GrosbeakEven though this male impressed us with his vocal abilities over and over and over, he did not want to show off his studly rusty wing patch.

Blue GrosbeakDad was getting some good looks at his lifer, but I wanted him to get the full effect and see that wing patch.  Eventually the bird bared it all with pride and great gusto.

Blue Grosbeak

I know it sounds insane, but this Blue Grosbeak sighting was more exciting to me than ABWCH’s unprecedented looks at Buff-breasted Sandpipers.  I am absolutely thrilled with their apparent range and population expansion.  This bird was 2 miles further north than those last summer.  Just 3.5 miles to go.  I cannot wait.

Blue GrosbeakSo where does the birding and blogging go after a morning like this? Nowhere but down again, of course.