Adventures in Birding (Western Edition) By Alex
All in all, we spotted ten never-before-encountered (by us) species. *None of which are pictured here.
Given the wildly popular comments on my previous birding post, I reluctantly am bowing to the demand of the public with an update.
Our springtime journey took us west of the Mississippi in search of birds unknown to those of us who have never lived west of the Hudson. Of course, I saw many birds that I'd already discovered in the east -- from the common (nuthatches, sparrows) to the uncommon (bald eagles, red hawks). All in all, I saw ten never-before-encountered species.
We have ruffed grouse back east, but its cousin the Sage Grouse has a very narrow range spreading through several northwest states -- including Wyoming's Grand Teton range, where we found ours. We first saw the female sage grouse. which looks like very much like a female pheasant. We used to have pheasant in our backyard growing up in Connecticut; we would see them regularly from our breakfast table in the morning before going to school. At first I thought the sage grouse was really nothing special, other than the answer to the trivia question as the only bird to eat sage brush. This was also a two-for-one prize, since one of my favorite Western novels is Zane Grey's Riders of the Purple Sage, first published in 1912. Though the depictions of the murderous polygamist Mormons doesn't hold up especially well these days, it was hugely influential in launching the Western genre (or rather, transitioning it from the sensationalist penny chapbooks, as portrayed in Unforgiven) as the frontier closed. And its descriptions of vast lavender prairies of blooming sage are very memorable.
(Bonus trivia: the only mammal to eat sage brush is the pronghorn sheep.)
Photo by laurenpretorius/iStock / Getty Images
Mmmmmm. Sage brush!
But then I saw one of the all-time crazy looking and crazy sounding birds: the male sage grouse. He somehow manages to puff out his chest so much that it sags like a beer belly, simultaneously spread his tail feathers straight up in the air almost like a peacock, and make a decidedly non-avian that sounds like a balloon being jumped on.
Photo by twildlife/iStock / Getty Images | Male sage grouse showing off for the ladies.
Here is Kenn Kaufman's commentary in his excellent Birds of North America: "Tied to the great sagebrush flats of western plateaus, this superb grouse is now disappearing along with its habitat. Males gather in spring and perform spectacular courtship displays to attract females, puffing out bare yellow chest sacs and making loud popping sounds."
The Mountain Chickadee is a very close relative of the black-capped chickadees that are regular visitors to our bird feeder in Connecticut. As far as I can tell, they're virtually identical except the mountain variety has white racing stripes on its head.
Despite the fact that my father used to read Poe to us at bedtime, I'd never actually seen a Raven before going on our Western swing. It turns out there are a ton of them. They're very much like crows, just as big (if not bigger) but with a furry throat.
Quoth the raven: "Are we there yet?"
Another common bird out West at least is the Magpie. They're very easy to recognize as they look somewhat like giant flying Oreo cookies. My major handicap in spotting them is that I kept expecting them to look like Heckle & Jeckle. Hint: Magpies in real life look nothing like Heckle & Jeckle. This is one fact that Mr. Kaufman should incorporate into his next edition. It is possible that magpies alternately speak with Brooklyn and English accents, but I can't confirm this first hand.
We have the occasional blue jay visit out Connecticut bird feeder (they're big enough and aggressive enough to displace any other bird we've had except for the cowbird which just ignores them). However, I'd never a Steller's Jay, before. They look almost identical to their Eastern cousins except they have no white on them at all; their heads are especially a dark blue.
Apparently there are chimney swifts on the east coast, although I've never seen any. However, the White-Throated Swift is only to be found out west. I was able to check them off my birding list while visiting Zion National Park hiking the Emerald Pools trail. Just as the name implies, they're super fast with ultra-rapid turns that seem to defy Newtonian laws of motion. Kaufman's commentary: "One of our fastest-flying birds, this little torpedo zooms along cliffs and canyons of the west."
Similarly there are lots of tree swallows back east, although I don't think I've ever seen one. However, I did see their Western Tree Swallow cousins while taking a morning raft trip on the Snake River in Wyoming. They burrow into holes at the top of the river bank holes, and constantly dart in and out.
Callie had one of the big birding finds -- the Yellow-Headed Blackbird. It basically looks like a yellow warbler from the chest up, like a blackbird otherwise, including a little white on the wing. The farthest east they seem to get is Michigan.
After seeing a ruddy turnstone on the beaches of Dry Tortugas, I scored another "peep" sighting with the Curlew sandpiper, its smaller cousin. Very similar to the Dunlin sandpiper, but with a more curved beak. This is one of the most migratory birds -- it nests in Siberia and winters mostly in Africa! Though lately it has been spotted in Australia, South America and the western United States. Interest fact from Kaufman's Birds of North America: In the U.S., "peeps" is the slang term for sandpipers, but in Europe they're called "stints."
Finally, on the duck side of things, I found several Lesser Scaups. These divers are easily spotted by their pale blue bills. Interestingly, their bills aren't actually pigented, but have an odd surface structure that absorbs all light but pale blue.
