Birds of Colombia's Llanos and Catching the Highway Duck

With three Andean cordilleras, two long coasts and a considerable chunk of Amazon rainforest getting all the attention, the Llanos is probably the most poorly known region of Colombia.  Few birders travel to its seasonally flooded savannas because the flat topography means there are no endemic species, and the alpha species diversity lags behind other South American hotspots.  This is a shame, because it happens to be a phenomenal place to see birds.

The dry season (roughly November to March in a typical year) is the time to visit.  The inundated landscape desiccates forcing wildlife to concentrate at depressions, called esteros, where water persists.

Llanos wildlife, Casanare, Colombia

I’ve yet to visit Brazil’s famed Pantanal, but I know of no other place where one can go and expect to see six ibis species in a day…

Buff-necked Ibises, Casanare, Colombia

…or Horned Screamers wandering around pastures like Turkeys.

Horned Screamer, Casanare, Colombia

And it was at one of these llanos esteros where I finally saw my first Jabiru, a massive stork that stands about 4-and-a-half feet tall. 

Jabirus in flight, Casanare, Colombia

The default raptor in this region is the beautful and fearsome Savanna Hawk.

Savanna Hawk

But this trip was about a science project; the birding was just a bonus.  I tagged along to help world-famous conservation biologist, Natalia Ocampo-Penuela, affix satellite geolocators to a couple Orinico Geese.  El “Pato Carreterra” (or “highway duck”), as the geese are referred to by locals, belongs to the shelduck-sheldgoose subfamily, Tadorninae.  

Orinoco Geese, Casanare, Colombia

Most of the population breeds in the llanos of Colombia during the dry season, but where these geese go once the rainy season begins is a mystery.  Improvements in remote tracking technology have led to an opportunity for Natalia and her collaborator, Duke University’s Lisa Davenport, to track the movement of a couple geese for up to three years.  

Orinoco Geese, Casanare, Colombia

All we had to do was catch a couple geese and attach the transmitters.  

Orinoco Geese, Casanare, Colombia

   

Fortunately these geese will wander dazedly toward a bright flashlight at night.  They are quick and strong though, and will bolt if they sense danger.  Arturo and his skill with throwing a weighted fishing net (“ataraya”) proved to be essential. 

Natalia attaching a transmitter an Orinoco Goose - photo by Lourdes Penuela

Natalia attached transmitters to one male and one female following US Geological Society methods. 

Data is flowing in from the male, but the female has not transmitted since shortly after she was released.  We fear she may have been eaten by the foxes that where prowling the estero where we captured her. 

Male Orinoco Goose wearing a satellite geolocator

This is a small tragedy for the loss of life of the goose and loss of equipment, but is part of the risk of doing any scientific field investigation and life in the wilds of the llanos. 

It will be months before we know where the male decides to go for the rainy season and probably years before the results are published (funds for more transmitters and geese will probably be needed), but it was a thrill to be part of this investigation and get to experience such a distinctive wetland landscape and appreciate its birds hands-on.

Top 10 Birds of 2013

This new year finds me in the tropical bird paradise of Colombia.  

The birding has been nothing short of spectacular and I’ll be sure to cover some of the highlights shortly.  

My travel schedule has put me in a bit of a quandary for my top 10 list.  How many of the 56 lifers I’ve seen in the last few days should I try to cram in?  And which of the US birds I’ve carefully accumulated during 98 percent of the year get displaced?

Ultimately I decided to just include the one Colombian species I got to hold, which brings us to…

#10 Orinoco Goose

What Natalia and I did with Orinoco Geese is a tale unto itself, but yes we did catch some (for scientific purposes of course!). Post coming soon...

Orinoco Geese, Casanare, Colombia

#9 Snowy Owl

I normally don’t like to include “chased” birds in these kinds of lists, but for this stunning bird I’ll make an exception!  It has been a phenomenal winter for Snowy Owls in NC and the reports keep coming in, but I think we’re somewhere in the neighborhood of 15 documented occurrences as of Dec. 31. See the original post...

Snowy Owl, Cape Hatteras, NC

#8 Williamson's Sapsucker

I don't know Southern California birds well enough to appreciate the significance of seeing a Williamson's Sapsucker in Los Angeles, but it was an unexpected lifer that contributed to a Sapsucker Sweep. See the original post...

Williamson's Sapsucker, Veterans Memorial Park, Sylmar, California

#7 Island Scrub-Jay

It was well worth the trip out to Santa Cruz Island to see this beautiful endemic jay even though it looks a lot like its mainland cousin. This is the only passerine to make this year's list.  See original post...

Island Scrub-Jay

#6 Atlantic Puffin

The alcids that show up occasionally off the outer banks in winter aren't exceptionally pretty, but Atlantic Puffin is still an excellent bird to see in North Carolina.  I guess I'll have to visit a breeding colony some day to see them in their garish finery. See original post...

Atlantic Puffin, Hatteras pelagic trip, NC

#5 Northern Saw-whet Owl

The last North Carolina breeding species I had yet to see.  This one took some work to track down, but it was definitely worth the effort!  Thanks to Mark K. for sharing the photo.  See original post...

Northern Saw-whet Owl, Roan Mountain, NC (photo by Mark K.)

#4 Magnificent Frigatebird

An invasion of frigatebirds made for an excellent consolation for a weathered-out pelagic.  Two of these in  the same frame in North Carolina is pretty absurd!  See original post...

Magnificent Frigatebirds, Frisco, NC

#3 Trindade Petrel

It's always a good pelagic trip when you see a gadfly petrel that isn't a Black-capped Petrel and this was the first for me!  See original post...

Trindade Petrel, Hatteras pelagic trip, NC

#2 Blue-footed Booby

I'm not much of an ABA area birder, but Blue-footed Booby is a code 12 or something (see, I'm really pretty oblivious to ABA minutiae), which means it's very rare to find one anywhere in the US.  There was some sort of irruption of boobies into Southern California this fall.  See original post...

Blue-footed Booby, Playa del Rey, California

#1 White-faced Ibis

While this bird isn't as pretty as the Scarlet or Buff-necked Ibises I just saw for the first time, it is significant for being the third record for this species in North Carolina and is possibly the "best" bird I've ever self-found.  See original post...

White-faced Ibis, Mattamuskeet National Wildlife Refuge

What a year! 

I should end this post with some bird targets for 2014.  I usually come up with five, but for now I've just got 3 in mind:

1. Harpy Eagle
2. Pompadour Cotinga
3. Agami Heron

I'll sort out #4 and #5 when I get back stateside. 


Happy 2014 to all!

Western subspecies: different-looking birds that don't count

This is a followup to my last couple posts (overview and woodpeckers) about birding around Los Angeles California. So be sure to check those out if you haven't already!

I finished up the woodpecker recap on the topic of flickers, and as I was saying...

The Northern "Red-shafted" Flicker is dramatically different than our eastern "Yellow-shafted" version, what with it's rosier shafts.  But these two superficially different birds are considered to make up one and the same "species," with intergrade/hybrids not all that difficult to find.

In this "sport" we call birding, points are awarded after a current list of species puported to be based on the most up-to-date taxonomic understanding.  It's a flawed system to be sure and one of the tragic consequences is that subspecies often get ignored.  Even when birders go to the trouble to try to pick out the "races" of birds that can be readily discerned in the field, it's usually a hedge against a potential future "split" that might one day turn into the beloved "armchair tick."

Western subspecies, those birds that clearly look different than the eastern versions with which I am familiar, but don't "count," is the theme of this post.

I was somewhat disappointed to discover that one of the most abundant passerines around Los Angeles is the Yellow-rumped Warbler.  At least this "Audubon's" Warbler has a bright yellow throat and is a candidate to be re-split from it's eastern relative, the "Myrtle" Warbler.

Audubon's Yellow-rumped Warbler, El Dorado Park, Los Angeles

This one isn't going to make any noise, but the chip note sounds quite different to my ear as well.

I'm not too ashamed to admit that this raptor had me puzzled at first.  I thought it looked like a Red-shouldered Hawk, but it was just so red!

California Red-shouldered Hawk, Los Angeles

So much different than the ones I see in North Carolina.

Same with this Red-tailed Hawk...

Western Red-tailed Hawk, Veterens Memorial Park, Sylmar

Way darker and redder than the pale eastern Red-tails.

And continuing on the western-birds-are-redder theme is this pelican:

California Brown Pelican, Bolsa Chica Ecological Preserve

It would be cool if they could inflate the red throat like a frigatebird can.

Possibly the most strikingly different bird that still doesn't count as a separate species is the Oregon Junco:

Oregon Dark-eyed Junco, San Gabriel Mountains

How can you take a gray bird, make it black and brown and still call it the same species?

And contrast that with this Great-tailed Grackle, which I only know is not Boat-tailed because of where I found it. 

Great-tailed Grackle, Ventura

If this bird appeared on a lawn in Wilmington, NC or someplace in Florida it would be called Boat-tailed Grackle automatically without more than a glance. 

This relatively unspectacular blackbird represents the only life bird in this post!

If these subspecific nuances haven't already driven you away from this blog and from birding entirely, these last two Savannah Sparrows should provide all the convincing you need that birding is a silly silly thing...

Non-birders are generally pretty unimpressed by sparrows (little brown jobs)...I'll admit that I found them a bit overwhelming when I first began birding, but when you start getting into subspecies, things get really crazy.

There are some 25 subspecies of Savannah Sparrow, for example, and I had the (mis)fortune to stumble upon two of the handful that are readily identifiable in the field.

Supposedly this is a Belding's Savannah Sparrow (can't you see the beldings?)

Belding's Savannah Sparrow, Bolsa Chica Ecological Preserve

And this House Finch is actually the "Large-billed" Savannah Sparrow. 

Large-billed Savannah Sparrow, Bolsa Chica Ecological Preserve

Don't blame me if you're confused though!  If it weren't for Sibley we would still be calling these all Savannah Sparrow or "little brown job."  Ignorance is bliss, as they say.

Phew!  That's about all the subspecies birding I can handle for now.  There were more interesting birds in the last couple posts about LA.  Maybe you prefer woodpeckers? Or Boobies/Scrub Jays/Curlews/etc/etc?

Los Angeles: Land of Woodpeckers?

Dear readers,

Here is the promised follow-up to my first post on Los Angeles birding about the area's wonderful woodpeckers.

You may be wondering how the desert wasteland I described in the last post is able to support wood-bearing trees, not to mention the advertised 'peckers. 

OK, I may have exaggerated the bleakness of the landscape a bit last time 'round.  There are actually plenty of trees in Los Angeles County and the woodpecker diversity surprised me.

Acorn Woodpecker, Los Angeles

One of the most ubiquitous is the charming Acorn Woodpecker, famous for caching acorns in tree-trunks. I don't know how they keep the squirrels at bay.  In the east, our Gray Squirrels would rob these poor birds blind as they do inevitably to just about all bird seed feeder-ers. 

Nuttall's Woodpecker, San Gabriel Mountains

And then there are the underrated Nuttal's Woodpeckers. I would say they are like the western equivalent of Downy woodpecker except that Downies are in California too (we saw one in the San Gabriel Mountains). 

Speaking of the San Gabiriel Mountains, the higher elevations are covered with some really pleasant parkland pine forests.  The trees seem to jut straight out of the bare rock in places and there's lots of space to stroll and see between the trunks. 

Up here we saw plenty of White-headed Woodpeckers.

White-headed Woodpecker, San Gabriel Mountains

And also the corvid that thinks it's a woodpecker, Clark's Nutcracker.

Clark's Nutcracker, San Gabriel Mountains

Or maybe it acts like a giant nuthatch?  Anyway I mentioned last time that it was a tossup between Corvids (the two scrub-jays, Steller's Jay, tame Ravens) and Woodpeckers for my favorite bird family of the trip.  And here I am blurring the lines again with this nutcracker!

But our best woodpecker moment came in one of those Los Angeles City Park, where we were able to sweep the North American sapsuckers.  In addition to the expected Red-breasted Sapsucker, this park also had a vagrant, like me, from the east: Yellow-bellied Sapsucker...

Yellow-bellied Sapsucker female, Veterans Memorial Park, Sylmar

...as well as its very similar western cousin, the Red-naped Sapsucker...

Red-naped Sapsucker male, Veterans Memorial Park, Sylmar

(come on, show us the nape!)

there's the red nape, Veterans Memorial Park, Sylmar

(...there it is).

And the cherry on top was a female Williamson's Sapsucker.

Williamson's Sapsucker female, Veterans Memorial Park, Sylmar

A big thanks to local birder named Doug, who found all these sapsuckers and then came out to the park to meet us and help track them all down! 

Thus far I've omitted the most common woodpecker, partly because I didn't get a photo of it, but mainly because it will help segue into the next post.  The Northern "Red-shafted" Flicker is dramatically different than our eastern "Yellow-shafted" version, what with it's rosier shafts.  But these two superficially different birds are considered to make up one and the same "species," with intergrade/hybrids not all that difficult to find. 

In this "sport" we call birding, points are awarded based upon contemporary lists of species.  It's a flawed system to be sure and one of the tragic consequences is that subspecies often get ignored.  And even when birders go to the trouble to try to pick out the ones that can be readily discerned in the field, it's often still a hedge against a potential future "split" that might one day turn into the beloved "armchair tick."

Western subspecies, those birds that clearly look different than the eastern versions with which I am familiar, but don't "count," will be the theme of the next post.

Stay tuned!

Snowy Owl at Cape Hatteras

Daytime owling at a North Carolina beach is not an activity one can normally do. But once every blue moon (the last time was 12 years ago) it becomes just so phenomenal that not just birders, but nature enthusiasts and photographers of all stripes come flocking from hundreds of miles away to give it a shot.

Snowy Owl at Cape Point, NC (town of Frisco in the background)

No, that's not a giant Muppet that washed ashore, but a living breathing Snowy Owl some 1500 miles south of its breeding grounds.

Snowy Owl trying to blend in like a Potoo

When these birds "irrupt" southward as they periodically do in winter, it is always a spectacle for birders and photographers.  Here's a great read on this phenomenon: http://soaringandexploringscience.wordpress.com/2012/12/28/the-scientific-lives-and-irresistible-irruptions-of-snowy-owls/

Snowy Owl scope line

It's hard to predict what will happen with this bird.  It has been reliably seen in the same general area of dunes west of Cape Point since word of its presence got out on November 26, and there isn't much of anywhere for it to go.  Bounded by the Atlantic Ocean on the east and Pamlico Sound on the west, Cape Hatteras is a well-isolated patch of sand.

Snowy Owl - awake

Perhaps the bird doesn't want to go anywhere.  When I came upon it on Nov. 29, it had blood stains on its feet, so it has been eating something at least.  The Snowy Owl that appeared at Tybee Island, Georgia last winter survived for weeks by preying on gulls.

Snowy Owl - yawning

It may look a bit sanguine in these photos, but after we left, it was chased about a mile down the beach by over-exuberant observers. This daily stress of getting followed around by dozens of tripod-wielding apes probably isn't helping its chances of survival. A fact this owl cannot comprehend, which it is currently enduring, is that fame has its costs.

Snowy Owl asleep - note blood on the feet