Natural History Journal

Sometimes, birds get lost.  And when they are found by local birders, far from their expected range, their presence causes quite the stir of excitement in the birding community!  (Case in point: the incredibly rare Snowy Owl that turned up in Orange County, California, a few days ago.)   While Southern California is a little out of my range for a quick day trip, the coast of Central California is not.  So, with Christmas behind us and a sunny day in the forecast, Eric and I packed up and headed over to Half Moon Bay in hopes of catching a glimpse of another very special rare bird from the north that has been hanging out on a popular beach for the last five or six weeks.  (Yes, I'm a little late to the party; it's been a very busy fall!) Decidedly smaller than Southern California's famed Snowy Owl, this lone male Snow Bunting is no less charismatic!  Unconcerned by nearby birders, beach-goers and photographers, he has made a habit out of hanging out along the bluffs and cre

Though the thermometer outside hits triple digits with alarming frequency in July and August here in California's Great Central Valley, according to the birds, fall migration is already underway! The "fall" migration of shorebirds is well-known for its early start in July, as individuals begin returning from Arctic breeding grounds while summer is still at its peak.  Failed nesters may arrive the earliest, but even those that raise young successfully in the short northern summers begin returning south when the calendar indicates that summer is far from over.   But what about songbirds?  How early do they pack up and head south?   Visit your favorite birding patch in August, even during the cool hours just after dawn, and you will most likely be met with... silence.  Why is it so quiet out there in late summer?  The birds seem to have just... vanished.  But are they really gone?  If so, where have they gone?  Have they migrated south already? Like migration itself, the ans

After exploring the salt marshes and rocky coasts of Maine's southern and mid-coast regions, we headed north.  Way north.   Before this final stretch, catch up on the whole series of through New England! Part I: New York Part II: Connecticut Part III: Massachusetts: Fort Hill Part IV: Massachusetts: Race Point Part V: Massachusetts: Plum Island Part VI: Maine's Saltmarshes Part VII: Maine's Rocky Islands & Coast Part VIII: Maine's North Woods Boreal forests beckoned at Baxter State Park, so after several days of exploring gorgeous Mount Desert Island and visiting famed Acadia National Park, we followed highway 95 north from Bangor - north into the woods.   Black-throated Green Warbler One of my birding goals for our June trip to New England was to see as many species of warblers as I could.  Small, agile and active, the New World warblers (also called parulids) are a diverse group of largely insectivorous songbirds in the family Parulidae.  Falling under the broad

Everyone knows and loves the songbirds: bluebirds, robins, finches, sparrows, warblers.  Jewel-like hummingbirds have a strong following among flower gardeners, and powerful raptors are favorites of many birders and non-birders alike.  Hunters toting shotguns as well as those with binoculars know and love waterfowl of all sorts (albeit for strikingly different reasons).  Shorebirds, with their often minute differences, have their own particular subset of devotees as well.  But it takes a special kind of dedication to become intimately familiar with one of the most mysterious groups of birds: the seabirds.   Living their lives entirely at sea and coming ashore only to breed, typically on rocky, remote islands, seabirds are largely inaccessible to the average birder (let alone non-birder!)  Many of us have our first introduction to seabirds with feet planted firmly on dry land, while peering across the blue expanse through spotting scopes.  There, distant birds - shearwaters, jeagers, al

Given my predilection for marshy, swampy places, it should come as no surprise that on my very first morning in Maine, the first place I headed was... a saltmarsh.  Scarborough Marsh, to be specific, south of Portland on the winding Nonesuch River.  It was here, in a drizzly rain shortly after dawn, as we squelched through mud and shooed away mosquitoes, that I fell in love with the state of Maine: dark green woods bordering the vividly verdant saltmarsh, brooding clouds reflected on the surface of glassy water, crisp air perfumed with a delightful combination of saltmarsh and conifers that I can't quite describe, and, of course, birds.   It was during my marshland reverie, as we attempted to cross a particularly soggy spot on a precarious plank, that Eric, hood drawn tight against the increasing rain and droning insects, mused aloud that this particular part of our "vacation" would be difficult to explain to our friends and family back home. The Nonesuch River meanders t