How did this sad turn of events come about?  How could I have gone on a field trip dedicated specifically to encountering this single, singular species and come back with the bird unseen, unheard, and unticked? Let’s start back at the beginning of the trip and see what could have gone wrong.

The folks from the festival who signed up for the Black Rail field trip for 26 January met up in front of the community college and made car-pooling arrangements for the trip to St. Johns National Wildlife Refuge which is located on the north side of Route 50 just west of Titusville. The refuge, which was created to protect the now extinct Dusky Seaside Sparrow, is not normally open to the public, which helps keep the rails and other wildlife from being unduly bothered by the public. As part of the Black Rail field trip we not only had access but were accompanied by Mike Legare, the lead biologist for Merritt Island National Wildlife Refuge, which administers St. Johns NWR as well. He actually did graduate work studying Black Rails that involved having to catch and put transmitters on them so in terms of having a guide who knows what he is talking about we really couldn’t ask for more.

We were pleased to hear that the trip the night before had heard Black Rails and that it had been years since a group hadn’t at least heard bird. As we piled into the back of the large pickup truck and the haywagon that we would use to make our way through the refuge we were buzzing with anticipation as Black Rail would be a lifer for most of us on the trip.

The ride out netted us a typical assortment of Florida birds with nothing particularly outstanding. As we waited the magic hour that perfectly combined darkness and light during which rails like to call we were pleased to see a Bobcat cross the trail behind us.  Though it was distant it was still a welcome sight. For me, at least, it was a life mammal!

Bobcat Lynx rufus

Eventually we walked our way out into the marsh along a narrow and heavily rutted path, accompanied by chattering Sedge Wrens, and listened for rails. While we quietly waited for Laterallus jamaicensis to call we didn’t have much to do but look at the habitat and watch the sun head down.  So that’s what we did while we strained our ears to hear our quarry.

Black Rail habitat both above and below

sunset at St. Johns NWR both above and below

Mike tried tapes. We tried moving out into the marsh and listened some more. Mike tried tapes again. The birds would not call. As it got darker the mosquitoes came out and the birds still did not call. Eventually, we gave up and headed out of the marsh, back to the truck and rode out of the refuge. We were a subdued group, bummed out by our dip, and unable to find the Short-eared Owl that the group the day before had spotted on their ride out of the refuge.

I was not amused to hear that the group the next day heard several Black Rails calling.

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10,000 Birds is a Scrub Jay-level sponsor of the 15th Annual Space Coast Birding and Wildlife Festival.

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This weekend, however, I didn’t see any special birds, unless you count the bird M.I.A. flipped during the Super Bowl halftime show or maybe that handsome Varied Thrush in the opening credits of Twin Peaks. Corey, on the other hand, birded like a boss; his Best Bird of the Weekend™  was either of the two Snowy Owls at Breezy Point in Queens.  On Saturday, he only found one out there but with his folks visiting he made another trip out with the whole family and spotted both owls, one of them a gorgeous adult male. The only thing that marred the gorgeous experience with the owls was a coterie of photographers who had decided that their images were more important than anything else and were out in the dunes trying to get better pictures. Regardless, seeing Snowy Owls with the family and getting a new bird for the Queens list was great!

What was your best bird of the weekend? Tell us in the comments section about the rarest, loveliest, or most fascinating bird you observed. If you’ve blogged about your weekend experience, you should include a link in your comment.

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As a resident of New York City the only predator I am ever concerned about while birding near my home is other people. It was weird to think twice about approaching the vegetation-covered edge of an innocuous pond but it only makes sense.  Though alligator attacks are rare they do happen.  According to Wikipedia:

Alligators are capable of killing humans, but are generally wary enough not to see them as a potential prey. Mistaken identity leading to an attack is always possible, especially in or near murky waters. Alligators are often less aggressive towards humans than large crocodile species, a few of which (mainly the Nile and Saltwater Crocodiles) may prey on humans with some regularity. Alligator bites are serious injuries due to the reptile’s sheer bite force and risk of infection. Even with medical treatment, an alligator bite may still result in a fatal infection. The alligator’s tail is a formidable weapon that can easily knock a person down and break their bones. Alligators are protective parents who will protect their young by attacking anything that comes too close or poses threats to baby alligators.

Since 1948, there have been more than 275 unprovoked attacks on humans in Florida, of which at least 17 resulted in death. There were only nine fatal attacks in the U.S. throughout the 70s, 80s, and 90s, but alligators killed 12 people from 2001 to 2007. In May 2006, alligators killed three Floridians in less than a week.

Yikes!  And alligators seem to be everywhere in Florida – basking in the sun, cruising through canals, eyeing your pet poodle.  While they can be dangerous they are also incredibly cool and it was a joy to be able to see them in the wild (from a distance).

One disappointment was that not one single alligator responded to my challenges for a wrasslin’ match. You know, maybe alligators aren’t all that tough at all…

And, for the record, I am not the first person to ponder birding where danger awaits on 10,000 Birds.

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A short summary of events described in this former blog post of mine:

• We are talking about the thrush called Eurasian Blackbird Turdus merula, not the American Icterids.
• This thrush is extremely common in urban and suburban Germany and one of the most conspicuous bird species here, comparable to the American Robin in North America.
• Last summer, birders suddenly started to notice that the Blackbirds were gone from their yards around Heidelberg. Because this was such a common species, we lacked quantitative data to be certain that this lack was an actual “situation” and not just the ordinary seasonal variation. Birders in other regions of Germany – when asked – confirmed however that they were seeing their usual large numbers of Blackbirds, suggesting the “situation” around Heidelberg was real.
• We were starting to find many dead Blackbirds, and those very few Blackbirds we saw alive behaved and looked very strange, with their plumage in bad shape, their heads often bald, limited ability to fly and significantly reduced flight distance. A few dead birds were collected by authorities and sent to a laboratory for investigation.

We now know a lot more, and the following information is largely based on the excellent work of our local bird data compiler Armin Konrad, who was amongst the first to notice the die-off in the first place and was also instrumental in coordinating the surveys and research that finally led to the identification of the culprit!

The Blackbird die-off that was observed in north-west Baden-Württemberg, neighbouring parts of Rheinland-Pfalz and southern Hessen in 2011 was caused by the Usutu Virus.

The Usutu Virus’ origins are in Africa south of the Sahara. Its host range includes mosquitoes of the genus Culex, birds, and mammals, with the mosquitoes acting as the virus’ principal vector. It appears as if some bird species are more susceptible to an infection than others, but many species are affected. In Heidelberg, we soon noticed a significant decrease not only in Blackbirds but also Song Thrushes, Serins, and Greenfinches. Species that were apparently less affected were Corvids, pigeons/doves, the Paridae, sparrows, warblers, and Black Redstarts. These observations suggest that the probability of being stung by a mosquito at the nest is one of the main factors: small non-migratory birds in open nests are affected the most, while larger bird species, species that migrate to Africa (immune?), and species breeding in cavities are less affected.

The Usutu Virus has spread considerably in central Europe over the last 10 years. The first detection outside Africa occurred in Vienna/Austria between 2001 and 2006. It subsequently spread to Budapest/ Hungary (2005, 2006), Zürich/ Switzerland (2006), and north-east Italy (2008/2009). The virus was also found in Spanish mosquitoes in 2006, but an outbreak in Spain’s avifauna has not occurred (yet – or wasn’t noticed).

It is sadly safe to presume that the virus will spread further in Europe, and birders in countries as yet unaffected might want to monitor their common songbirds in urban and suburban environments more closely in the following years to document the outbreak’s progress. These are the main symptoms to look for:

• Obviously, a significant population decrease particularly in Eurasian Blackbirds, and dead birds on the lawn.
• The plumage particularly at the neck and head is in very bad shape, with huge gaps exposing the skin. Some birds can be completely bald, resembling vultures.
• Significantly reduced flight distance. While it is not unusual to approach an urban Blackbird to within 2 yards,  2 inches are not the norm and strongly indicative that something is rotten in the state of Denmark.
• Impaired motoric movements, e. g. inability to fly, staggering, falling over. I frequently observed Blackbirds walking on the ground like rodents, even ducking under low tufts of grass.

American birders, defend your robins – shoot European vagrants on sight!

To end this post on a positive note: it appears as though most (all?) affected populations eventually develop an immunity and rebound to their former levels. “Hope is the thing with feathers at neck and head”, and as we can’t do anything to stop this outbreak anyway, hope and patience are options we’ll have to be comfortable with.

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We were only 300 metres from the back of our house on the road when we saw a very large dark feathered object in the middle of the road. We observed vehicles slowing down and driving around and we stopped to see what it was. We immediately realised that it was a Frigatebird, but when we picked it up we realised it was a Greater Frigatebird. We see Lesser Frigatebirds quite regularly in Broome all year round. We took it home and contacted a couple of friends that are also interested in anything and everything seen in Broome. It was immediately confirmed to be a Greater Frigatebird and we have no idea what caused it to be in Broome on the road near our house on a day where there was hardly a breath of wind. I took numerous photos and also weighed it out of interest. It was 925 grams and I don’t know if this is a normal weight for a Greater Frigatebird. It had only just died and was a magnificent specimen. We arranged for it to go in a freezer-along with a Northern Giant Petrel that showed up on the beach here late last year and died-so a BIG freezer! It will then go to the museum.

Greater Frigatebird

Head of Greater Frigatebird

Feathers on the back of a Greater Frigatebird

For those of you monitoring my 2012 list of birds you will notice that I have put this bird on. It has been noted that it was deceased, so you don’t have to count it on my tally if you don’t want to! I can’t ignore it…I may never see one again and it is a significant find here in Broome. I could go chasing a live one on a pelagic trip one day and remember what a magnificent bird it was up close in my garden.

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Richard Fried spent 2011 doing a New York State Big Year and managed to top the record of 350 species which was only set in 2008 by Scott Whittle. Richard totaled 352 species, an impressive number, by seeing almost all of the regularly occurring New York birds and the vast majority of the rarities that showed up in 2011. He kindly agreed to answer ten questions via email about this big year and this post is the result. Enjoy!

How did you decide to do a New York State Big Year?

I didn’t decide to do a Big Year ahead of time. In 2010 I saw 269 species in New York without really working at it until near the end of the year, so I thought with a little more effort I might get to 300 species in 2011. I really wasn’t thinking about a Big Year, and I certainly wasn’t thinking about the record, which seemed like a nearly impossible goal, particularly for someone with a full time job and a wife and children. However I found counting to be a great motivator to get out in the field as much as possible and to learn as much as I could as fast as I could, and it was just plain fun. I also know that birds are in decline, with many seriously threatened species, lending some urgency to my desire to see them before they disappear. At any rate I got off to a better than expected start to the year, and by early summer I realized that I would reach 300 much sooner than I anticipated. As it turned out, the Gray-hooded Gull in Coney Island on July 30th was number 300, which left 5 months to see how far I could get. That’s when I started thinking in terms of a big year.

How did you prepare for your Big Year?

I started birding relatively recently, but once I started I quickly became hooked – some would say obsessed. I started birding as often as I could, at first on guided walks and birding trips in addition to birding with my daughter Lila and her boyfriend Jacob Drucker, my first mentor. In the three years before my big year I birded in eight states, Puerto Rico, Canada, England and Japan. I read as much as I could, accumulating a fairly large library of field guides and ornithology texts, listened to recorded songs, and participated in a number of workshops in Cape May. As my skills improved I started birding more on my own, but I found that it was usually more fun, not to mention productive, to bird with other people. I always tried to bird with better birders than myself (an awful lot of people in that category, then and now) and to learn as much as I could from them. I also started monitoring the various regional listserves in the state, and exploring eBird, which helped give me an idea of what could be found where and when.

What was your goal in doing a Big Year?

Basically to see as much as I could, which meant learning as much as I could about the birds of New York. As the year progressed I began to get a sense of how truly immense, varied and beautiful New York is, and I really enjoyed exploring new birding spots. Despite traveling extensively around the state, by year end I had birded in only slightly more than half of the 62 counties in New York. I’m looking forward to exploring the rest of the state. I also realized that there are a very large number of talented, knowledgable and generous birders in New York and I wanted to meet and learn from as many as I could.

What was your biggest surprise in 2012?

Getting anywhere near the state Big Year record, let alone exceeding it.

What was your biggest dip?

The Harris’s Sparrow in Dryden. It turned up last winter in the back yard of one of my old professors from vet school. Lila, Jacob and I were on our way to see it when we skidded off a snowy road in Ithaca and ended up in a ditch. It was a very low speed crash, and we were all fine, but I destroyed a couple of tires and the front bumper, which kind of put a damper on the birding. I couldn’t get back up to see it before it finally took off for good.

Did you discover a new favorite birding spot?

The Niagara Frontier was amazing. Plus I love saying Niagara Frontier.

What tools did you use in the field?

Swarovski 10×42 bins and a Swarovski 65mm spotting scope on a Gitzo carbon fiber tripod. Also a Garmin Nuvi GPS unit and an iPhone were nearly as essential as good optics.

How many miles on your car and how much cash did your Big Year cost you?

25,000 miles and probably 1,300 gallons of gas. I’ve avoided thinking about the cost, but the gas works out to about $5000, some of which was shared with my excellent birding buddy Rob Bate. Add about $600 for pelagic trips, and the cost of a lot of crappy motel rooms, not to mention a new set of tires, the front bumper and a set of brakes. Probably brings it to somewhere between $7 and $10 K, depending on what you care to count, which I don’t. I don’t really regret the monetary cost, just the carbon footprint. My kids say I should spend the rest of my life birding by bicycle to atone for the fossil fuel expenditure. (Actually, in terms of cost I probably have to add a pair of diamond earrings and a trip to the Caribbean with my wife, Stella – but those were in atonement for a different aspect of my big year. On November 9th I was chasing down a Franklin’s Gull in Lewiston with Rob, instead of celebrating my 20th wedding anniversary with Stella. Probably not the smartest thing I did in 2011, but not the dumbest either. That would have to be looking for Rails in a swamp in Staten Island in the middle of the night – if you’re not dumping a body you probably shouldn’t be there.)

Do you have any advice for those who are considering a New York State Big Year?

If you have a significant other, it probably helps to get him or her on board early. My wife is not a birder, but she was generally very understanding and supportive. It would have been impossible otherwise. Also, if you have a job you need to have a very flexible work schedule and be able to get by on very little sleep for long stretches. Finally, cultivate your connections to other birders around the state – I couldn’t have done it alone, nor would I want to.

Have I forgotten to ask anything important?

No, I think that covers it. Although the only thing I would add is that I expect my record to be broken very soon, probably this year, but not by me. Considering my own limited skills and experience, and the reported species that I missed, I think 360 or even 370 is possible by a more skilled and determined (and possibly insane) birder. I’m still birding of course, but it will be some time before I can muster the energy for another Big Year.

Thanks, Richard!

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The Hoopoe Lark has only just recently been found to be breeding on the island of Sal, but just on the outskirts of the southernmost town of Santa Maria, it has found the perfect environment in the Dunas de Santa Maria.

It is quite possible that it has been overlooked as the ex-Portugese colony is seldom heralded for its birdlife and the popular beaches are the big draw for tourists. Back from the shoreline, the island is noted for being very dry and scrubby; not good for tourist pictures, but great if you happen to be a lark.

The scrubby dunes of the Reserva Natural are subject to the constant wind that makes the island so popular for wind-surfers and kite-surfers and the birds can be seen exploring the leeside of any piece of low-lying scrub to find seeds and insects that have been blown into the wind shadow there.

They move with darting runs between scrub and succulent, always on the lookout for a meal, changing direction quickly when the opportunity presents itself. It has been likened to other birds such as roadrunner and mockingbird. With the downcurved bill and mottled chest, I should like to add thrasher to that list.

Its name pays homage to the bird that shares much of its distribution across North Africa, The Gulf, Pakistan and Afghanistan. The long downcurved bill is obviously hoopoe-like, but it quickly becomes clear that the name is apt when the lark opens its wings and flies.

The Hoopoe Lark’s former range in Cape Verde included the island of Boa Vista from which the third part of the latin trinomial is taken. Alaemon alaudipes boavistae is considered to be the westernmost extreme of the cline that runs extends as far as Asia.

The Islands merit some attention from the bird-watching world as there are 6 endemic birds on the archipelago as well as a further 10 species endemic to the island clusters of the region which include The Canaries, The Azores and Madeira. If you are interested to see more posts from Cape Verde and to increase awareness of the islands avifauna, vist Redgannet or follow this link .

If you liked this post and want to see more great images of birds make sure to check out 10,000 Clicks, our big (and growing) page of galleries here at 10,000 Birds.

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Well, I love speculative fiction and I love extinct birds and I love extinct birds that turn out not to be extinct the most. So I had high hopes for this novel.

Unfortunately, Woodley lost me right away. The structure of the novel — multiple characters, at first unknown to each other, pursue paths that are destined to eventually intersect as part of the plot’s resolution — is a common one, especially in mysteries and thrillers. To my mind, it almost never works. It takes a skilled hand to make the characters and threads equally compelling, and if they are not, the book feels unbalanced. On the other hand, plenty of people seem fine with this structure, else it wouldn’t persist. So I will only say that it made me infavorably disposed towards the book, and you can draw your own conclusions.

Worse, I struggled with the characters. I could never get a handle on what Josie — the protagonist, recently widowed — ever saw in her remote, adulterous, obsessive ornithologist husband. And I’m hardly a fan of multinational corporations and their destructive profit-driven shenanigans in the face of global disaster, but even to me, the chief heavy Elsa seemed like a caricature. Her foil, a jet-setting hitman, is thoroughly unlikeable — plausible enough for a hitman, except that I think he was supposed to be coming off as more roguish and less peevish.

But what of that? This is a book that people come to for the plot and the science. I can’t really fault the former, although the dual-threaded narrative sucked out a lot of potential tension and my inability to buy the characters made it hard to care when they were in peril. The latter… I wanted so badly to like it, but the survival scenario for the Passenger Pigeons is implausible on its face. All actual captive breeding efforts failed for a reason, after all. On top of this, it’s not enough that they merely miraculously survived — instead they have become super-pigeons, with the bird that is key to the plot manifesting borderline psychic tendencies as well as an intelligence that overshadows the merely human characters. This, I am sorry to say, broke the book for me. I’m ok with fantasy, but not with pseudo-science.

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