Cleaning up the US West Coast – Seattle and LA, USA February 2012 (1 Viewer)

Introduction
All of the birding on this trip was built into a ten-day work trip to study ways to reduce emissions from ports and ships on the west coast of North America.

This provided my first ever opportunity to go after Snowy Owls, which have come far south in a terrific irruption year, and to extend my coverage of the West Coast (following a visit to northern California in April/May 2011) south to Los Angeles, where a conference held on the edge of San Pedro Bay provided a good opportunity for some early morning birding within waking distance of the hotel.

16-17 February
After a wasting midnight flight to LA followed by a 3:30 rise for a 6am dead-eye connection ("red-eye" just doesn’t do it credit!) to Seattle it was a miracle I saw any birds at all.

Nonetheless a splendid adult Glaucous-winged Gull with elegant grey wing-tips was guarding a streetlight right next to the “skywalk” from the terminal to the carpark at SeaTac airport. Birding from the light rail into Seattle delivered a nice bonus in the form a of three Mallards, a pair of Gadwall and a cracking male Bufflehead on three different flood relief ponds!

A drive out to Bellevue to see a vehicle emissions testing centre in action provided drive-by views of Bald Eagle hunched in a lakeside tree, and an American Robin sang in the gathering gloom at the bus-stop. Does anyone know if the crows in Seattle are all American, all Northwestern or a mix of both? They definitely looked small, but I’m used to Large-billed Crows in Hong Kong as my default, so my opinion is marginally less useful than a chocolate teapot.

A visit to the Port of Seattle the next morning produced a few good seabirds – my first Red-necked Grebes for probably 20 years, half-a-dozen breeding plumaged Pigeon Guillemots, a lone Rhinoceros Auklet, a couple of Western Grebes, a Mew Gull, ten Barrow’s Goldeneye and a similar-sized flock of female Surf Scoters.

This visit was followed by a long, wet, slippery 110 mile drive to Gray’s Harbour in search of some real quality.

Stay tuned for the next exciting episode!

18 February
A late start meant that I arrived at Ocean Shores well past 9am, and after blundering around the back roads I found a long lake that gave close views of a female Bufflehead, Mallard, Goosander, Double-crested Cormorant and a Pied-billed Grebe. The corner by the bridge held a Great Blue Heron, a Song Sparrow and a Belted Kingfisher. A very dark and heavily-hooded Peregrine tried sheltering from the wind in a big fir tree on the edge of the carpark.

My first big success was tracking down the Emperor Goose on the golf course. It was sheltering from the big westerly winds with a group of dark-breasted Canada Geese. I eventually found a way round to a spot where I could get the scope on it without worrying about it blowing away and got one marginally acceptable photo.

I next headed down to Dalton Point, where the strong winds had whipped up a fearsome surf and was blowing fine swirls of ochre dust above the vulcan grey sand and settling in miniature dunes behind the huge beach-washed trees. It was high tide and the occasional wave would send sheets of water sliding down the far side of the beach, suggesting that a really big storm could engulf and ingest the point entirely.

My start here was rather morbid – In quick succession I found a dead Pacific Diver, a young seal and a Rhincoeros Auklet, the latter two lying together on the beach. More cheerfully there were Semipalmated Plovers on the top of the dune and a few hundred Dunlin and 30-odd Western Sandpipers huddled on the tideline on the inner shore of the spit.

The lagoon behind the spit held good numbers of Surf Scoters and the substantially larger White Winged Scoters, the males of both immaculate in their pre-breeding finery. Throughout the day I looked hard, but in vain, for a female King Eider that has been here for the last four years, but there was compensation in the form of a few Bufflehead, Western and Slavonian (Horned) Grebes and several Great Northern and Red-throated Divers (loons) and Red-breasted Mergansers. I was surprised to find no live Pacific Divers, but every potential candidate had a solid bump on the crown and was just too massive to fit Pacific’s more svelte profile.

A couple of juvenile Northern Harriers cruised over the grassed-over heart of the point, and I had brief flight views of an accidentally-flushed Shore Lark, but the real reason to come was the Snowy Owls – and they were absolutely, mind-blowingly unutterably stupendous! Because it was windy the birds were sheltering behind the larger pieces of driftwood, mostly on the more sheltered northern tideline. It should be said that “driftwood” is something of an understatement for the huge pieces of timber that are so typical of the beaches of the northern West Coast. The trick was to find a Snowy that could be scoped from the shelter of another monolithic ex-tree.This done, I settled in to absorb every wonderful detail of a bird I’ve never had the slightest chance of seeing in the 30 years I’ve been birding.

On the first bird I saw – an adult – I was struck by the length and softness of the feathers around the face and on the breast, which looked like fur and were so fluffed up that the bill completely disappeared. The bird was clearly resting and spent the whole time with its eyes closed to little more than slits. It occasionally looked around – several later birds seen over the weekend over were clearly watchful of overflying Bald Eagles.

An hour later I wrenched myself away and headed down towards the point, passing another Snowy Owl huddled down behind a tussock, in a wildly optimistic hope of stumbling cross the McKay’s Bunting which showed for a week . . . until a week before. Despite currents running in every direction a couple of Great Northern Divers and a Pacific Harbour Seal were riding comfortably in the turbulent waters off the point, and numerous divers flew into Gray’s Harbour from far offshore.

As I walked back along the north shore I made an attempt to count the Snowies. I first found a bird alone on low turf about 40 metres inland, then one hiding behind a log and peering over the top at me. As I settled in to get some shots another bird moved a bit further uphill and hunched back down among a tangle of driftwood. Moving on there were another four hunched against pieces of driftwood close to the tideline giving me seven birds. As I got to the northernmost point I found a superb white adult huddled against the rain and wind in some straw twisted into the roots of another forest giant, and completed the set of nine with a scruffy-looking juvenile on the shingle where the beach turned back west.

And that was it for the day – the surf was still too big, and the darkening sky knocked out my last chance of connecting with the female King Eider. After an abortive attempt to find the Rock Sandpipers on the jetty at the southernmost tip of Ocean Shores I headed the 25 miles back to Hoquiam as dusk fell – somewhat stunned at the quality of the day –in terms of both the Snowies and their choice of winter quarters, where the raw power of the wind, rain and surf had done their howling best to smash Damon Point back into the ocean.

Cheers
Mike

ah Ocean Shores. I too had a work trip a few years back that let me spend a weekend there. Got my lifer Black Scoter, Rock Sandpiper, and Pacific Wren on that trip, although the only vagrant around was a female King Eider (not complaining, as it was also a lifer!)

I also remember having to try that pier, I think 3 times, before I finally got the Rock Sandpipers.

Some nice birds there Mike, making me a bit jealous as I was there in November, must have been about a week before the first Snowy Owl arrived. On the plus side I did find the King Eider and Rock Sands, also a surprise Snow Bunting. The Eider was down in the bay behind the Water treament plant with a 3x Scoter flock

Cheers,
John

Pure quality, esp like the last Snowy shot

wow.

Beautifully written too..........very evocative. Snowy Owls - simply gorgeous birds with captivating looks.

As far as I know nobody is really sure exactly where the boundary is between northwestern and american crows, and many of washington's crows are probably not safe to call.
http://10000birds.com/crows-in-the-...hwestern-american-or-something-in-between.htm

Many thanks for the kind comments, and to Reuven - guess I'll have to leave Northwestern Crow for some future trip further north, and hope I get there before its re-lumped. Anyway, back to Ocean Shores . . .

19 February
The next day the wind had dropped dramatically, the cloud layer was much higher and the rain had stopped. My birding started with a huge bang as the Emperor Goose and its accompanying dark-breasted Canada Geese were doing their bit to mow the golf course right next to the road in a gentle breeze and soft morning sunshine (apparently almost as rare as the goose in Washington in February). To be frank the Emperor Goose was a bit of a scruff – with grey speckling across the face and bill, although the rest of the plumage was in excellent nick – if rather paler than illustrated in Sibley.

Next stop was the jetty (breakwater) at the southern tip, which was a much better prospect on the high tide, with surf breaking above the wall and roaring up the beach and a 60-strong huddle of Surfbirds, Black Turnstones, and – yes! – Rock Sandpipers on some of the boulders. I'm not quite sure why I’m so into this bird. It used to winter in Japan at Chiba, a place I’ve never been to, and was added to the China list at Beidaihe by Paul Holt before I'd been and never since. I also like the fact that its breeding plumage is a complete rip-off of Dunlin’s, but in winter they look a lot like Purple Sandpipers, but the base of the bill and the legs are yellow instead of dull orange.

I also think that the creators of Sesame Street’s Big Bird’s drew inspiration for his feet and bill from Surfbird – they looked as clumsy, awkward and vacant as any wader I’ve seen and I love the way they tread on their own podgy toes.

On the way over to Dalton Point a gang of 25 House Finches were on the wires with a group of Red-winged Blackbirds, and just round the corner a couple of Northern Flickers were on more wires in the same spot as half a dozen Black-capped Chickadees and a similar number of Yellow-rumped Warblers. I parked up short of Dalton Point and was about to go looking for the King Eider when a look the other way along the beach revealed a splendid adult Bald Eagle perched by on a wigwam of driftwood. Just as I got into position for a picture it swooped down onto the beach, but instead of making off with a leaping salmon or a lap-dog (several were being walked nearby) it grabbed a rather manky-looking twist of straw and headed off over the trees, presumably towards its nest.

This pulled me towards a freshwater pool behind the dunes, which held a fine spread of ducks. These included 80-odd American Wigeon, about half as many Northern Pintail, a dozen Northern Shoveler, a Bufflehead or two, a Lesser Scaup two female Green-winged Teals and best of all my first male Hooded Merganser, fishing along the near edge with its hood compressed. The other good bird here was a big female Peregrine with as full a hood as I’ve ever seen.

Walking back down the beach towards the Point a fine Glaucous-winged Gull (unless someone can tell me why it's a hybrid) was posing elegantly among the spume, but much more importantly the milder weather made for much better viewing conditions for looking for birds on the sea. I found a flock of 30-odd White-winged Scoters stretched out along the line of the submerged breakwater about 80 metres offshore.

In with them were a couple of Harlequins including a fine male – looking very small among the scoters. And then, finally, a gingerbread brown head and body that could only be the King Eider! In terms of nailing the target birds of this weekend that made the set, but this bird was so much more than that. With good scope views the bird showed with a much gentler, less romanesque head shape than expected, two highly distinctive elevated fins on the mantle, and that wonderful richly-coloured head – never thought I could be so appreciative of a female duck – but its amazing what a 26-year dip (when seeing the Portscatho Least Sandpiper in April 1986) can do to generate some enthusiasm!

This being a sunny Sunday there were many more people heading onto Damon Point. To avoid the crowds I went round the northern edge along the beach, picking up my first Snowy Owl – what looked like a rather dark juvenile - on the northern beach being taunted by a Raven. It had moved on by the time I got there and coming round the corner I found a silent group reverently watching three Snowy Owls sitting on a couple of fallen trees, one of which had rainwater gathered in a dip in the trunk. One bird – a juvenile – was unquestionably the scruffiest on the island. It was perched on top of a tangle of roots and giving the occasional screech at a beautiful white adult that was perched on the log, and occasionally screeching back. The third bird showed a well-defined white face above an evenly-barred breast. Each of them took turns to get into the water to drink, soaking the feathers around the bill and wash its feet. The sun came out.

The birds appeared to pay no attention to the birders and strollers, who watched and photographed the owls in silent awe – they could certainly have taught some of Hong Kong’s photographers a thing or two about respecting the birds. The whole washing process last for the best part of an hour, with first the adult, then the scruff and finally the scalloped bird flying off eastwards on broad, rounded wings.

Drunk with awe at such fabulous views of these stunning birds I headed on, coming across the third bird perched atop a slender leafless tree. 20 minutes later it dropped onto a stump some 50 metres away, but not before two other birds, including a very white adult had flown overhead and landed in a fir tree a couple of hundred metres away. Some 100 metres away another adult was perched extremely decoratively on a piece of wood with the bay stretching out behind. Eighty metres on from that bird was the whitest of all the adults I saw hunched almost immobile on a horizontal log until a Bald Eagle flew over flushing several birds into the air.

The last bird I focused on flew up and perched on a narrow branch at the top of the island on the southern shore, the dark sand dune curving away beneath it to the falling tide, perfectly lit in the closing hour of sunshine. It was perched back on, but kept turning round to look over its shoulder, again completely unafraid as it scanned the island with its crystal yellow searchlight gaze. The ultimate image from a weekend that so far exceeded all expectations that it roared right into No. 1 as my best ever day of birding!

Walking back along the beach the King Eider was loafing just beyond the surf break within 50 metres of the shore – even better views than the morning, allowing me to see a very fine pale line curving back from the eye and down the neck – on a day that just would not quit.

Cheers
Mike

Mike, Great Thread, Great Photos! Your narrative also brought back many memories of some of the trips I have made out to the "great northwest"!

The year of the Snowy Owl

Great trip Mike, would have loved to have been there. I can identify with your feelings about the Rock Sandpiper, it is one of my favorite shorebirds. In 2004 I did my biggest North American year and had a total of 474 species. 473 was a Purple Sandpiper on a jetty on the coast of Maine on about Dec 16 and number 474 was a Rock Sandpiper in Depoe Bay, Oregon on December 31.

Lots of exciting birding here! Very nice that things came together so well for you, and fun to read about.

Thanks Larry & Gretchen

What a great end to a year Don - the real meaning of coast to coast!

LAX and San Pedro Bay - the far Southwest

20 February
After being shifted from an indirect to a direct flight to LAX I had a few birds from the Holiday Inn near the airport while waiting for an evening meeting. My room overlooked some parkland and I was happy to see a Red-tailed Hawk drifting left and landing in the top of one of the taller trees. A discreet silhouette close to the trunk of another tree sprang to life as a Black Phoebe swooped up onto the top of the fence. A little later another, paler-looking flycatcher on the fence showed a hint of ochre and closer inspection revealed a Say’s Phoebe. It was similar in shape and jizz to the Black Phoebe, but with dusty brown rather than black upperparts, a small dark mask and a rich ochre belly beneath the broad-tipped black tail.

21 February
Next day I traveled the short 20km down to Cabrillo Beach on the western corner of San Pedro Bay to attend a conference on controlling air pollution from ports. The conference hotel (Doubletree by Hilton - good except for extra charge for ) was situated next to a marina and a short distance from Cabrillo Beach, which included a small tidal marsh (Salinas de San Pedro) and the start of the giant breakwater sheltering the Ports of Los Angeles and Long Beach. A late afternoon walk began with a Black-necked Grebe fishing right against the wall of the marina and a Yellow-rumped Warbler and a Black-crowned Night Heron in the mature trees in the carpark.

Better was to come. I was delighted to find a flock of 60 Black Skimmers loafing on the beach in the company of a couple of a Western and Ring-billed Gulls a Caspian Tern and two immature Royal Terns (NB leg colour changing from orange to black). There were a few American Coot, a Pied-billed Grebe and a couple of Brown Pelicans on the sea, and in the marsh a couple of Least Sandpipers were picking along the exposed mud. I wondered if a squealing in the marsh might be a Clapper or Virginia Rail, but nothing emerged from the undergrowth.

Cheers
Mike

22-23 February
Next morning the tide was up on the youth club beach and the Black Skimmers were over on the public beach, along with a couple of smoky-dark juvenile Heermann’s Gulls. I was delighted to find them as I had been disappointed about missing them around San Francisco last May, after years of being completely distracted by them while trying to follow the complex plots on Baywatch. Even better was finding an adult in with a flock of Western, Ring-billed, Mew and California Gulls. Also picking along the edge of the beach were a Willet, a Greater Yellowlegs and a Marbled Godwit that had a clear preference for feeding underwater.

Looking out across the sea towards Catalina Island from the end of the breakwater small group of auks that I believe were Guillemots (Common Murres) and several flights of shearwaters that eventually revealed themselves as Black-vented Shearwaters. There were also a few Common Dolphins with bi-coloured sides breaking the surface a few hundred metres out beyond the kelp-beds, and a Willet picked along the edge of the surf.

Looking into the marsh through the bushes I found a bunch of White-crowned Sparrows feeding on the kibble put out for stray cats. Even better was delighted a pristine Common Yellowthroat with a perfect white-edged black mask came in to my pishing, and a couple of what I though were Rufous Hummingbirds zipped and dipped among the flowers.

I am a bit confused about the hummingbirds. Sibley’s (admittedly small-scale) maps suggests that only Allen’s Hummingbird should be found in winter in the LA area, but at least one of these birds had an all-rufous back, suggesting Rufous, which it looks like should not be here. There are also several eBird postings that suggest both species are here. Help!

I also bumped into the lady birder who had discovered the McKay’s Bunting on Damon Point the week before I arrived. While congratulatinging to her a California Grey Fox sneaked away through the vegetation inside the marsh.On the way back to the hotel a Northern Mockingird, and Black and Say’s Phoebes were on the Youth Hostel fence.

The next morning a Raccoon ran across the road as I walked past the lagoon and a male Rufous Hummingbird was perched high in the sunshine. The skimmers and the same gulls were again on the beach, but today there were half a dozen Royal Terns, a Caspian Tern and a couple of Glaucous amongst them. There was also a Harbour Seal inside the breakwater and a pride (?) of California Sea-lions rolling about on a marker buoy. A group of House Finches were vying with some House Sparrows and some White-throated Sparrows.

And that was basically it. These southern Californian birds provided a great counterpoint to the winter wonders farther north, but the is absolutely no question that the Snowy Owls reigned supreme!

Cheers
Mike

MKinHK said:

And that was basically it

...absolutely no question that the Snowy Owls reigned supreme!

Click to expand...

Given it was a work trip, not bad for a 'day at the office' :t: And indeed, do those Snowy Owls ever rule supreme.

Nice report Mike. It's interesting to read about what's in these areas at this time of the year. Snowy Owls are great!

Like the royal tern shot (am not partial to gulls, but terns are handsome)!

Okay, I can't resist an interesting language question, so I took a quick look which showed "raft of sea lions" much more used on internet than "pod of sea lions" ("pride" is even more unique!)

A few more gulls I'm afraid Gretchen, but couple of others to sign off with too.

Cheers
Mike

Mike, those almost look like Black Skimmers, but would they be in California?

I think Rufous Hummingbirds can be pretty early migrants, although I mostly remember seeing them in March in San Diego, not February. You might want to check ebird and look up the county checklist, where you should be able to access bar graphs of occurrence