2009 The (Birding) year that was

The year 2009 started with a big bang for us. My wife and I celebrated new year's day at Salton Sea and boy were we so happy to have made that trip. Racking up three lifers on that day alone sort of set the trend for what will happen on the following 364 days.

Also, for the first time in my relatively short birding experience, I decided to keep a year list inasmuch as this will be my last full year in the United States. In 2010, Cynthia and I will retire in the Philippines.

New Year's Eve and we were travelling to Benicia in Northern California to visit some friends. I told my wife that I hoped that we would see a Yellow-billed Magpie which I thought would be a fitting final bird for my yearlist. A few miles after we entered Hwy 580, Cynthia excitedly pointed to a long-tailed bird perched on a roadside tree. Then two more flew across the highway and I knew without a doubt that I got my final species for the year bringing my total to 341; 306 in the United States and 35 from the Philippines. Of these, 61 were lifers, 43 American and 18 Philippines. Not a bad tally considering we confined our birding to California in 2009, except for a two-week visit to the Philippines and a 4 day trip to Florida.

Of those lifers, most memorable was the California Condor we saw at Big Sur.

The others were surprisingly easy: Common Goldeneye and Black Scoter at Playa del Rey,

Common Goldeneye

Black Scoter

White-winged Scoter at Bolsa Chica,

King Eider at Cabrillo Beach

and Williamson's Sapsucker at Sylmar

and Bobolink at Bonelli.

Cynthia and I are hoping that 2010 will be another great birding year for us, especially since we will do most part of it in our native country.

Friday the 13th

It was eerily quiet as we walked along the trail, as if the presence of something sinister frightened the creatures of the sanctuary into silence. As we trudged slowly we could sense some movements along the trail – trembling leaves when there wasn’t any breeze to stir them or a shaking twig but no bird or squirrel jumping off from it. Small, dark things would swiftly scurry across the path ahead only to quickly vanish in the dense undergrowth. As we neared the pond, we could hear a faint twittering sound. The closer we approached the reeds that lined the edge of the pond, the sound became louder. Suddenly the whole placed seemed to reverberate with a thousand scolding tiny voices. We abruptly stopped on our tracks. My wife grabbed my arm and with eyes fixed on the vibrating reeds whispered in my ear.

“Marsh Wrens!”, she said.

Early on we thought that we were having spring doldrums when most of the wintering birds have left for their breeding grounds up north, while only a few of the summering birds have arrived from their tropical vacations, thus creating somewhat of a void in bird activities. Thankfully it wasn’t so. The Marsh Wrens certainly proved that. Soon there were birds everywhere! A small flock of American White Pelicans were floating serenely on the pond waters while Tree Swallows were zooming overhead, ocassionally buzzing us by just a few inches.

The other ponds at San Joaquin Wildlife Sanctuary in Irvine yielded a variety of waterfowls. One of which, the Blue-winged Teal, became the latest addition to our year list.


Later, a quick drive-by at Upper Newport Bay gave us a huge flock of Black Skimmers all standing on a mud flat, with everyone facing the same way as if watching some grand concert (or a politician promising a bailout?).


A trip to Bolsa Chica before lunch was rewarded by the sight of a wild, unruly and extremely raucous bunch of Elegant Terns.

Capping the morning was getting quite close-up views of the lingering White-winged Scoter.


It was Friday the thirteenth and it was a thriller.
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"The Stuff That Dreams are Made of" *

Well, maybe not exactly. But with the ease of finding my fifth lifer for the year, it seemed so dreamlike.

Perhaps it is the month for Scoters since I just recently added the Black Scoter to my lifelist (number 4 for the year) and now a White-winged was sighted at Bolsa Chica. It was a little before 9 am on Thursday, Jan 15th, when I started my quest. Walking along the path that parallels the Pacific Coast Highway, I looked at each and every duck-like bird on the channel at my right. The fact that the Ruddy Ducks, Northern Pintails and female Lesser Scaups and Surf Scoters were all brown and looked similar from a distance made my task a bit daunting. Not to mention that most of these birds were still sleeping and had their heads tucked under their wings, thereby making it much more difficult to observe the tiny white feathers under the eyes of the White-winged Scoter – field marks that would separate it from the rest of the brown plumaged flock.

About halfway along the trail, I noticed a small number of Lesser Scaups beginning to stir from their nap. One of them didn’t seem to belong – having a much darker plumage and is a tad bigger than the rest. Using my binoculars, I thought I saw the large, dark bill (unlike the gray color of a Scaup’s beak). It could be my White-winged Scoter but it was at the other side of the channel! Nevertheless, I fired off a couple of shots just so I could have some “documentary” evidence that I have now seen my fifth lifer. (Note: Some of us bird photographers call a not-so-good photo of an uncommon bird or a lifer “documentary” which basically means: I could have done a better job at photographing this **deleted** bird!) Anyway, I was now faced with a dilemma: I need to get to the other side at the fastest time possible and pray that the scoter will remain where it was. Do I get there via the boardwalk or via the tidal gate – both options probably covering the same distance (read: far). I took a deep breath and headed towards the tidal gates in quick, long strides. Running was out of the question as I would probably collapse in sheer exhaustion even before I reach my destination. Finally, in what seemed like an eternity (and trying not to be distracted by any photo opportunties the other birds in the area presented), I reached the place where the Scaups and my Scoter were preening. There it was, close enough for me to be able to confirm that it was indeed a White-winged Scoter. Unlike the Black Scoters at Ballona which kept me and my wife in suspense for almost three hours before finally making an appearance, this was as sweet as a pleasant dream. 

* The Maltese Falcon, 1941

"They're Heere" *

Thanks to the tip from our birding buddy, Tom Starcic, we could be in a position to add our 4th lifer for 2009. He sent me a picture of Black Scoters that he saw at the Ballona Channel in Playa del Rey. That was last Tuesday, Jan. 6th. Saturday morning as we drove down to Ballona, we were hoping that the scoters were still there.

At 8:30 am we were scouring the east side of the channel. Except for a raft of Buffleheads and tons of Heerman's Gulls, the subjects of our search were nowhere in sight. There were some heartbeat quickening moments when I saw a dark scoter swimming nonchalantly by. Cynthia and I both took numerous pictures of it thinking we finally got our Black Scoter. Reviewing the pictures during a pause in our quest showed the bill to be too dark and too thick for a Black Scoter. It was, as a matter of fact, a female Surf Scoter. Slowly, disappointment started to creep in. Will this be our first heartbreak of the year?

Learning from our Solitary Sandpiper fiasco last year, we once again surveyed the east side of the channel with increased determination. The presence of a couple of bird photographers somehow buoyed our hopes. When we asked them, both gave us the same answer: no Black Scoters seen. It was then that we saw the male Common Goldeneye. Although we have already photographed this bird late last year, it is always nice to have another opportunity to see an uncommon avian visitor. Just as we were focusing on the Goldeneye, a kayaker came paddling by spooking all the birds along his way. Undaunted, we decided to wait a little while hoping the Goldeneye would return - we sort of gave up on the Black Scoters at this point.

Minutes went swiftly by. Only the Buffleheads returned along with a few Gulls. It was now past ten and our hopes were fading fast. I looked at my wife and she merely shrugged - her unspoken way of saying that it's time to throw in the towel. With heavy hearts, we trudged slowly along the berm all the while keeping a wary eye on the waters below. Then "whoosh" came a trio of brownish black birds flying close to the surface of the channel. I followed their flight with my binoculars and immediately knew that the Black Scoters have arrived. To our delight they landed on the channel waters about 100 feet behind us. "They're here!", I told Cynthia. We quickly turned around and I sprinted the distance with the speed of a hungry cheetah chasing an antelope. Then with caution I descended from the berm and were almost on an eye-to-eye level with the scoters. Cynthia, on the other hand, remained at the berm for a more panoramic view. The yellow coloring of the top of the beaks confirmed that we have indeed found our 4th lifer.

Not too far from them, the Common Goldeneye also returned and this time gave us another great photo op.
While the scoters were diving for food, I noticed another kayaker coming up our way. I knew she (this time it was a lady rower) would soon be scattering the scoters and the other avian denizens along the way. I climbed back to the berm and told my wife that it was now time to go. The walk back was now done in buoyant strides that complemented the smug looks on our faces.

* Poltergeist, 1982