
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.

