Lincoln City to the sewage ponds

So of course the following weekend I decided to practice my newfound shorebird knowledge. Especially when I saw a report of Wandering Tattlers in Lincoln City. I forgot that I’ve seen one once before on a fence post in Hawaii. Someone should really keep track of these things (Ebird).

But I’d never seen one in Oregon so it’s different.

The fog was thick on the beach when I arrived, but not too thick to spot the Spotted Sandpiper.

Muddy brown above, (no spots because it’s fall), dark brown “comma” on its side, bold eye ring, and bobbing its tail.

Not too far away, I saw a group of birds out on the rocks.

Tattlers! Wandering too close to the waves.

“Wandering” because of their wide distribution across the ocean, and tattler for the “tattling” call if you get too close. Once the sun came out, I had a hard time staying away.

They’re gray all over with a white belly, yellow legs, and a moderately long straight bill. And they like to eat creepy crawly crustaceans off the rocks.

Mmm, yum. Efficient wanderers.

They were so fun to watch I could have stayed all day, but I had another plan in mind. But before I got too far, while passing the sand dunes, I looked to my left and spotted an angel.

That turned out to be a Lark Sparrow in the fog.

A rare bird for the area so a pretty cool sighting. I watched it for a while as it hung out with old man White-crowned Sparrow.

My next stop was an hour and a half drive southeast to the Philomath Sewage Ponds in hopes of another rare bird.

But when I rolled up I saw some signage that gave me pause.

Dang it. I hadn’t known beforehand about the permit and I’m a rule follower so I drove the 6 minutes to the Public Works Office. But the office was closed. So I drove back to the ponds, thought hard about it and decided to ask for forgiveness if necessary. I try to bird on the up-and-up because I don’t want to give birders a bad rep. This time I’d just go in for a minute to take a peek.

It all felt normal. Driving on the levee? Normal. The color of that water? Totally normal, everything’s fine.

Nothing to see here, green feet are par for the course. Everything’s fine.

It didn’t take long to pick out the rare bird swimming in the pond, the American Avocet.

It was cooperative and even popped out for a bit to preen at the edge of the ponds.

The green water goes well with its legs. Elegant as ever it returned to the sewage water and swam up next to three Long-billed Curlews. Another rarity for the area.

The risk was certainly paying off so far. At least in bill length.

I drove around again getting a shorebird workout with a Least Sandpiper (yellow legs, short bill).

Western Sandpiper (longer bill with slight droop, black legs, reddish “shoulders”).

And Greater Yellowlegs hunting at the edge of the ponds with those bright yellow legs.

And a bill length greater than half proportion with the head that expertly picks out pond treats.

Once more around I found a flock of Red-necked Phalaropes swimming in the middle.

Thin, fine bill, dark eye stripe, stripes on their backs, these turned out to be a lifebird!

Good things turned up in these ponds! I’m glad I gave them a go. It was late afternoon by then but a rare-bird alert of an American Redstart at the North Jetty in Newport was too tempting to resist. I got cocky.

I drove the hour back to Newport, but all I found were a handful of birders who’d been looking for a couple of hours under the bridge.

Win some, lose some, but I still felt pretty lucky this time!

Tweets and chirps,

Audrey

February birds cont’d

A majority of my February was spent obsessively looking for screech owls on Mt Tabor. I made about a dozen trips at various early-morning and late-night hours but all I could come up with is a lone Barred Owl calling early one the morning.


 
My search continues.

Outside my five mile radius, however at Oak’s Bottom I struck gold.

Or silver actually. While hiking, I happened to notice a slightly silver feather pattern peeking out of the side of a tree that I was about 85% sure was an owl. I was confident enough to return at sunset to see what happens after dark.

Oaks Bottom at sunset

Sure enough.

Right on cue just after sunset, a sleepy Western Screech Owl peeked its head out! It’s the first one I’ve found on my own. And only the third I’ve ever seen. The first was at this exact park (in a different tree) two years ago on a Birdathon trip. It’s quite possible this is the same owl, or that owl’s partner.

Minutes later as the sky darkened, the owl woke up and looked out further.

I had brought Tomas along with me and together we watched this incredible creature wake up and survey its surroundings. Not wanting to disturb it, we decided to leave before it exited the trunk.

Just as we turned around it flew out over our heads and perched on a low shrub nearby. It called it’s ping-pong call for a few minutes (and another owl nearby responded!) before it then darted into the darkness to hunt. We were ecstatic as we hiked out.

Then Tomas said – look!

It was right next to us along the trail! So tiny, about the size of a soda can. In the dark we could barely keep track as it flew down to the water, and we heard a splash as it caught something (a fish?), then we quickly lost track again. I felt incredibly lucky.

A daylight search on Mt Tabor turned up Fox Sparrow, Red-breasted Sapsucker, and Band-tailed Pigeon to add to my 5MR.

Welcome back pigeon

And on a trip to Broughton Beach I found Brewer’s Blackbird, Horned Grebe, Killdeer, and one early morning I was lucky to find a flock of Horned Lark.

Back at home one rainy day I birded from our bedroom window and managed to see an American Goldfinch hanging with the Lesser Goldfinch.

Sometimes it’s nice to bird from bed when it’s so dreary outside.

Lesser Goldfinch

From the window I also saw a rare sight of two Anna’s Hummingbirds at the feeder at once. That never happens.

And did I mention my Townsend’s Warbler is back?

They sure do make these rainy days brighter.

Lights me up every time. Hope things dry out soon! Marching on to spring…

Tweets and chirps,

Audrey

Newberry Caldera

In an attempt to avoid firework noise and pack in nature time over 4th of July weekend, Tomas and I headed southeast past Bend to the Newberry National Volcanic Monument in the Deschutes National Forest.

Within the park is Newberry Caldera, which formed 75,000 years ago after an eruption-explosion-collapse event of a shield-shaped volcano, Newberry Volcano, apparently the largest volcano in the Cascades volcanic arc (the size of Rhode Island). Impressive stuff.

Caldera

Neither of us had been to the monument before and we looked forward to exploring unknown territory. We arrived late Friday night, scanned (and rejected) one official campground that was packed with noisy campers, and instead opted for our new favorite camping method, no-frills dispersed camping. Just a simple, quiet place to sleep.

Open air

No rainfly!

The next day, Tomas mountain biked 20 miles around the caldera, while I drove to Paulina Peak for a short hike and to check out the views. And birds. ALFB (Always Looking For Birds).

Paulina Peak

There are some pretty stunning views of the mountains, lakes, and surrounding volcanic features from the peak. At first I was kind of annoyed at a couple of dudes who climbed the rock in the distance putting themselves right in the middle of the nature scene.

View

But then I looked closer and all was forgiven. Hilarious.

So much macho

Macho rock men

They weren’t the only ones admiring the view.

Dark-eyed Junco

So much macho

I hiked the short distance to the rock and back, noting Western Tanager, Clark’s Nutcracker (of course, so easy), and many Yellow-rumped Warblers.

Yellow-rumped Warbler

And Rock Wrens singing away.

Rock Wren

And I heard for the first time the “ringing tew”  (or “squeaky eek“) of the Townsend’s Solitaire call. To me it sounds more like a rusty wheel. Really glad I matched the bird to the call, it’s pretty unusual! Unfortunately, no usable pics.

I left Paulina Peak and headed to the Big Obsidian Flow I could see below. This flow is the “youngest” in Oregon at only 1300 years old.

Obsidian Flow

Driving there I came across two (!) Common Nighthawks dead on the roadway.

Common Nighthawk

Common Nighthawk

Ugh. So terribly heartbreaking. I moved them off the road into the trees. Somehow it seemed better.

There weren’t many birds at the flow, Rock Wren, Red Crossbill, more yellow-rumps, but there was a heck of a lot of cool lava rock (basalt, rhyolite, and obsidian).

The Big Obsidian

Obsidian Flow

Life

I was fascinated with the few scattered trees growing out of the rocks. Against all odds.

A ranger told me that a pika family lives near the bottom of the stairs at the Obsidian Flow, but I couldn’t find them this day. And it was getting late, so I returned to the parking lot to meet back up with Tomas.

While waiting I came up with Pine Siskin, Red-breasted Sapsucker, Brewer’s Blackbird, a quick glance at an Evening Grosbeak flock(!), and Red Crossbills. Here’s a consolation crossbill photo because I missed the Evening Grossbeaks. Dang.

Red Crossbill

The monument is full of lava flows, lakes, and spectacular geologic features. And it’s still seismically and geothermally active! We felt good even having explored a fraction of it before moving on to our next destination.

View

I never get tired of that view.

Tweets and chirps,

Audrey