Distant Road Trip LIfers

You need airfare tickets for Portsmouth Int’l Airport to get closer looks at Upland Sandpiper

 

I married into a family that has some wonderful recurring vacation spots. One of those is a regular summer trip to the area of Acadia National Park in Maine. After a couple of years off, we returned to this land of endless green trees in June. We flew into and out of Boston, and drove from there to Maine and back. That choice meant that there was an opportunity to check for potential life birds along the route. And it turned out that I found one on the way there, and another on the way back.

Distant Upland Sandpipers in New Hampshire

On the way north, there were a few possibilities. With my family in tow, I wanted a target that involved a short detour. Most of them were poor chances for a quick stop and find. Chasing an Eastern Whip-poor-will during the day is a fool’s errand. The elusive Black-billed Cuckoo offered similar low odds. Recent sightings of Thick-billed Murre and Little Gull were scattered, and never in the same spot from one day to the next. The best bet for a lifer that promised not to take a lot of time was a stop at the Portsmouth International Airport for some Upland Sandpipers.

Perhaps the only Upland Sandpipers I’ll ever see in my life

Upland Sandpiper is not a coastal bird like most sandpipers. It prefers grassland. The birds breed in Alaska and the northern Great Plains. They winter in Paraguay and Argentina. Each summer, a small number linger across the northeast. Apparently, they are regulars at Portsmouth airport. To see them without access to the airport grounds, you park next to a fence north of the runway and cross your fingers.

On this day, luck was in our favor. I spotted at least 3 Upland Sandpipers within a minute of our arrival at the fence. They were distant views. But the distinct posture of an upright, skinny shorebird made the ID. They were slowly meandering next to a distant runway, and seemed unlikely to come closer. I snapped some poor photos through the heat shimmer to document my sighting.

With that lifer secured in swift fashion, my family graciously allowed me to  walk around the nearby woods before we got back in the car and on our way. It’s a delight to walk through eastern woods full of unfamiliar songs and calls. Red-eyed Vireos and Pine Warblers were singing away. Then I heard the “teacher-teacher-teacher” call of an Ovenbird. I spent the next few minutes trying to see this strangely-named warbler (apparently its nests resemble a dutch oven). I eventually spotted it perched on a branch. As I got the bird in the viewfinder of my camera to snap a shot, I noticed something in the background staring back at me. It was a Barred Owl! It’s almost as if the Ovenbird led me to the owl. Cool combo photo!

Ovenbird being watched by me and a Barred Owl

Distant Black Terns in Maine

Some birders talk about their “nemesis bird.” By that, they mean a species that they’ve made multiple efforts to see but have always struck out.  It’s a fun idea. But it’s not for me. I don’t matter all that much to the birds, so I don’t think of them in relation to me. Their presence or absence is happenstance. So I’ve never considered any species a nemesis bird of mine. That is not because I always find the birds I’m looking for. Far from it. I just don’t think of any of them as foils or villians in my quest for a longer life list. 

That said, Black Tern is a species I’ve dipped on multiple times. So when I saw that there had been recent sightings of them at a lake outside Augusta, Maine, just 10 minutes off the path on the way back to Boston, I decided to go take a look.

Far across Messalonskee Lake, Black Terns were cruising

Black Terns are cool looking birds, especially for those like me who love a grayscale color pattern. In breeding plumage, they have charcoal black bellies and heads, with a silver back and wings. Black Terns prefer freshwater in summer, as they breed in marshes, ponds, and lakes. Apparently, they breed in loose colonies. So if you find one Black Tern, you’re likely to find some others. These Black Terns were being reported from a boatramp. Just like the Upland Sandpiper, within a minute of arriving at the spot, I’d sighted my target. I saw at least four different Black Terns foraging (distantly) over vegetation in the lake.  And like with the Upland Sandpiper, my photos were poor.

It was amazing to have such success with a target bird on each end of our trip. I imagine I’m come across Black Tern multiple times again in my travels. But I’m not so sure I’ll ever see Upland Sandpipers again. 

 

I Keep Birding Secrets

The Secrets Kept By Birders

The birding community is a generous one. People share notable sightings, often with precise GPS locations, so that others can go see the bird they found. They give tips about the best spots to find local specialties. A group called LA Birders has produced a series of video guides to area hotspots. Whether it’s on eBird, iNaturalist, WhatsApp, Discord, Youtube, an old-fashioned email group list, or chatting in the field, birders are constantly sharing information with other birders. 

That said, there are times when birders don’t share information. Instead of immediately and enthusiastically spreading news of their finds, birders will keep mum. Or they’ll enter a report in eBird and hide the checklist from public view. Sometimes, eBird itself will suppress the information about the sighting. What in the name of classified top secrets is going on here? 

Possible members of a secret cabal that keeps their good finds to themselves

On rare occasions, the secrecy is selfish. Birders are obsessed with their lists. A hobby so focused on counting can easily lead to competitive, ungenerous behavior. While falsely reporting a rare bird that you didn’t actually see is much more common (for nefarious, or benign reasons), it does happen that people will intentionally withhold information about a bird sighting. This is undoubtedly the worst form of a birding secret. I’ve heard it called rarity hoarding. The aim, as sad as it is to say out loud, is to get a bird on your list that nobody else will get on their list.

I don’t think this actually happens all that much. For starters, if you never report the bird, it won’t be reflected in your eBird life list. And if it’s not on your eBird life list, you want go up in the rankings. If, on the other hand, you first report it a week after you saw it, one of two things will follow. Either (1) if you have no supporting documentation, you will have no credibility, and we’ll assume you didn’t see it, or (2) if you have good documentation, birders will despise you for not passing along the news. Whether it is #1 or #2, anyone who does this should be shamed and shunned.

A related kind of secrecy is the fabled secret cabal – a select few who share early information about rarities through backchannel communications that aren’t publicly available. Every birding community has legends of some inner circle of birders who get all the juicy reports first. I certainly think this happens. But in the days of eBird and iNaturalist, reports find their way to the rest of us pretty quickly. 

Big purple boxes and a notice is all you get for Spotted Owl in Los Angeles

Most birding secrets are kept for good reasons: to benefit birds. One example is the suppressed location information for certain sensitive species in eBird. “Sensitive species” are those “for which demonstrable harm could occur from public display of site-level records, including (but not limited to): 1) targeted capture for the cage bird trade; 2) targeted hunting; 3) targeted disturbance of nests, roosts, or individual birds from birdwatchers or photographers.” This means that eBird reports for these birds will not show up in eBird except for big purple blocks that show the general area of a sighting. In Los Angeles, this includes Spotted Owl and Long-Eared Owl. 

Another kind of secret is the sighting that never gets into eBird in the first place. Motivated by similar concerns over the health, well-being of, or disturbance to a particular bird, some birders will simply not share their sighting. Many naturalists and conservationists rue the impact the Ebird has had on many bird populations. They’d rather folks went out and enjoyed nature and saw birds, and didn’t create pubic records with precise time and location data. Some advocate for not sharing rare bird sightings, to avoid the crowds of nerds stalking wayward birds.

My current birding secret

I’ve kept these kind of secrets in the past a couple of times. A few years ago I got special permission to walk around an ecological reserve in my 5MR and saw 4 Burrowing Owls. I see one or two annually, so this wasn’t a rarity that would attract the listers. But this was a high count. And it was just before breeding season. To minimize any disturbance (which I mainly figured would come from photographers), I kept the report to myself for a month, when the birds had all left.

I’m keeping a birding secret right now. It’s nothing big, and none of the listers will be upset once it’s disclosed. But it’s possible some folks will be disappointed.

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