109th Christmas Bird Count

Yesterday I participated in the Christmas Bird Count for our area. It was the thirteenth year it's been held here, but the Christmas Bird Count as a whole has been going 109 years, starting in 1900. Back in those days, there weren't many bird watchers, but there were a lot of bird hunters. In an effort to stop the annihilation of hundreds (or thousands) of birds every year just for sport, Frank Chapman of the American Museum of Natural History proposed an idea. Instead of the "side hunt," where people took sides and saw which side could shoot more birds at Christmas, people would count birds instead.

The idea took hold, and the Audubon Society took over the Christmas Bird Count. Today it is held in 22 countries in the Western Hemisphere.  The count is conducted within a 15-mile radius circle on one day between December 14 and January 5. 

We didn't have a big turnout for our Christmas Bird Count, so I had a large area to cover.  Some years we have quite a few people turn out, both experienced birders and those new to birding. Those that are new are paired with someone more experienced, so they end up learning a lot about birds. I know I was a bit cautious the first year I did my first Christmas Bird Count. My thoughts went somewhere along the lines of:

A whole day looking at birds? 

It's winter, I don't see birds. 

It's going to be really boring.

But I was pleasantly surprised. When you concentrate on birds, you end up seeing them in more places than you would expect. And the day has gone by surprisingly fast every year. 

Some of the birds can be obvious, like the raptor perched on the power pole above. The white speckled V on the scapulars (shoulder feathers) helps to identify this as a red-tailed hawk, the most common roadside buteo. Other raptors I saw included a second red-tailed hawk, a rough-legged hawk, a golden eagle, and a merlin.

Some of the birds are quite small, not much bigger than this sunflower seed head. The gold head along with the black and white wing feathers make this bird easy to distinguish as an American goldfinch. A flock darted along ahead of me as I went along the edge of a field. I enjoyed seeing the flash of their golden heads.

Here's the goldfinch eating the sunflower seed head. Other birds that were common in the fields and feed lots were ravens, blackbirds, white-crowned sparrows, and European starlings.

Later, as I stopped next to the road to look at a marshy area, I saw a flash of blue in a tree. The blue made me think of pinyon jays, because we have a lot of those. But when I got out the binoculars and looked closer, I saw it wasn't a pinyon jay.

Instead, the bird was a bit smaller. The male was brighter blue and the female (on the left) was greyer. This blue bird turned out to be a mountain bluebird.

Yesterday was a really cold day. In the morning it was only 14 deg F, and the highest it got was 31 deg F. As a result, most bodies of water were frozen over, including this big lake. That meant the lake, which is usually a great birding spot, was not too exciting. Nevertheless, I managed to find a loggerhead shrike and a black-billed magpie near it.

Not too far away I found this open water. Why isn't it frozen over? The water emerges from a deep spring, and the water is warm enough that it stays unfrozen for a long distance. Out on the water I could see little blobs, mostly brown, but in the center one white blob.

With more magnification, I found my most exciting find of the day: a bird that wasn't on our list--a tundra swan. It might not look very swanlike here because it has its head tucked into its back. Fourteen green-winged teals, about a dozen mallards, and a few northern pintails were also present. At another open-water area I spotted a belted kingfisher and a great blue heron. It amazes me how much variety exists even in the desert.

After I had searched the valley bottom, I headed up a couple of the canyons. In one I found a flock of wild turkeys. They ran across in front of me and up the canyon side. Dark-eyed juncos were all fluffed out and chirping quietly as they tried to stay warm in leafless bushes.

As I got up higher in the mountains, it started snowing. I didn't see many birds, but finally something flew across the road. I got out and started walking.

A flock of mountain chickadees was darting around the pinyon pines, with a couple red-breasted nuthatches hanging out with them. A little later I found a Townsend's solitaire. During the winter it often makes a piercing whistle call that is unmistakable.

Wintertime is when huge flocks of birds gather near the roadsides. They fly up in front of vehicles and it's difficult to see what they are. Here I captured them alongside the road, and it's possible to see the yellow chin and dark mask and chest band, although the "horns" that give the horned lark their name aren't really distinguishable.

Hopefully these photos and descriptions have whetted your appetite for birds! If you'd like to learn more, and possibly participate in a Christmas Bird Count near you house (remember, the counts are held until January 5), check out the Christmas Bird Count website! Happy birding!

Wild Turkey and Other Game Birds

Happy Thanksgiving! Traditionally we associate turkeys with Thanksgiving. Thanks for checking out this blog for a slightly different take on turkeys. 

Around here, the state introduced wild turkeys (Meleagris gallopavo) a few years back. Although wild turkeys are native to large parts of North America, they aren't native to this area. Nevertheless,  the state thought it might be fun to put some in so people could go hunt them. (We'll just ignore any effects they might have on the native wildlife before I go off on a long diatribe.) The wild turkeys have flourished and now are in all sorts of places they weren't supposed to go. Although this time of year would seem to be ideal to have the hunt, the season is March -May.

Apparently bringing birds in just so they can be hunted is a fairly popular thing that state wildlife agencies do. Above is a chukar (Alectoris chukar), a bird native to Eurasia, but now found in many states in the western U.S. Every year from October through February there is a chukar hunting season and people go out and try to shoot this football-sized bird, with a daily limit of 6 (in Nevada). The birds travel in coveys of 5 to 40 birds. The chukar is the national bird of Pakistan. (You're ready for Jeopardy now.)

Another introduced game bird is the ring-necked pheasant (Phasianus colchicus). Some people near here tried to raise these in pens so they could then be released for hunters to shoot, but foxes kept getting into the pens and killed them all. This bird, originally from Asia, is one of the most sought-after game birds throughout the U.S. In Nevada, hunting season is all the month of November, so it could be a good potential replacement for the standard turkey dinner.

I figure if a bird has to be introduced, it should be something really exotic with a silly name, like this Himalayan Snowcock (Tetraogallus himalayensis). The only place it lives in the U.S. is in the Ruby Mountains in northeastern Nevada. As such, it has become a mecca for birders who want to add it to their life list without traveling to the Himalaya Mountains. Bird trips like this one are organized to go see the Himalayan snowcock. Some birders will even go so far as to hire a helicopter to get them up to the high elevations where the bird prefers to live. There's a hunting season for the snowcock, from September to November. It makes me wonder who provides more to the local economy: hunters or birders in search of this elusive bird?

The Great Horned Owl

I hadn't seen the Great Horned Owls that had been hanging around our yard all summer for a few weeks, so it was a welcome sight the other day to see this one on the garden fence post. The owl just watched us play in the yard and let us come quite close.

I think we must have bored the owl a little--here it is with its eyes closed!

And then we're not even worthy of a look--the owl turns its head and checks out what's happening in another direction. 

It was great to be able to see the owl so close and watch it for so long. It definitely kept an eye on us, but wasn't too concerned with us being in the yard. Eventually Henry got a little too curious and the owl took off, with Henry loping after it across the yard. It made me remember Henry's first night with us, when an owl hooted from a pole and my mom watched Henry dive into his doghouse to take cover. Now Henry is double the size and isn't at all afraid of the owl.

Mystery Birds

I walked out of the house the other evening and saw a nearby tree filled with these large black birds. It was getting late and the sun had already set, so I didn't get a good close up of them, but perhaps you've seen them before. They come occasionally to the trees and congregate like you see in the photo. The next morning, to my surprise, they were gone before the sun rose. Do you know what they were?

Greeting from a Great Horned Owl

After a couple evening walks, we've returned to the house to hear a cacophony of birds. The Western Kingbirds are flying around squawking, American Kestrels are diving in the treetops, European Starlings are flapping away. Why so much noise? Because a Great Horned Owl likes to hang out in our yard. So whenever I hear the birds, I start looking around until I spot the owl. The owl knows us fairly well, so it lets me get close to get a photo. We've actually had a family of Great Horned Owls around, but they seem to have dispersed and now I only see one owl at a time.
We sleep with the windows open and quite often at night we can hear the owl hooting away. I'm always thankful that the owl is helping to keep our yard free of gophers and mice. Our puppy Henry was quite scared of the owls when he was smaller, but now he's gotten so big that he just ignores them.  I try to hoot to the owls to encourage a conversation, but they just ignore me. I wonder why.

Breeding Birds and Their Babies

I've been doing breeding bird surveys around the ranch lately to see what birds live here. I'm using a point count protocol, which means to do the survey, I count all the birds I see or hear during 10 minutes, then move 300 meters to the next spot and count again. There are ten points along the transect. In addition to noting what birds I notice, I write down approximately how far they are from me and if they are showing any signs of breeding. This last week I noticed some definite signs of breeding in the form of baby birds. I was able to get a photo of this group of five ducklings partly because they can't fly yet. My camera is good at close ups but not so good with far away objects, so I don't have many photos today.
One of the common birds on the ranch near some of the ponds is the Yellow-headed Blackbird. (Don't ask me why, but common bird names are usually capitalized, but mammals, reptiles, amphibians, etc. are not.) This particular Yellow-headed Blackbird was part of a big family group including several immature birds. They have a raucous call that reminds me of being at a bawdy party.
This baby Killdeer was so cute. It and its sibling were following their mama around on the sand bank. Its legs look so long for its little body. 
We've had three Great Horned Owl babies hanging around our yard, and this is one of them. It doesn't look much like a baby now, growing rapidly over the last few weeks. We hear the owls a lot at night, sometimes waking us up if they're close to our bedroom window. 

I love breeding bird surveys because they make me focus just on the birds for a few hours. I'm always amazed how many different birds are out there, and how moving just a short distance from one habitat to another changes the bird composition greatly. I got excited this summer seeing my first Bobolinks and Savannah Sparrows out in the alfalfa fields, watching the Long-billed Curlews chase a Swainson's Hawk that had been perching on an irrigation pivot, and listening to the dinosaur-like Sandhill Cranes. As we enter July, the birds don't sing quite as much because they no longer need to attract a mate, but they still provide lots of color on the landscape that will be turning brown under the hot sun.