December 15th - Putting a Bow on the Year

Port Townsend

I woke up at the Harborside, finally feeling moderately well rested. The view out the window of my room was lovely - I may have missed the official sunrise, but this felt pretty close. 

Breakfast was provided. I really need to stop and consider this benefit. Especially when it's a hotel breakfast buffet, it can be a quick, easy, fulfilling start to the day - often meaning smaller meals later on. Especially on multi-day trips, I may seek these situations out more frequently. 

Where to? I had two birds to chase - the first was a Canvasback at a lake just south and west of town. 

Discovery Bay Pond

A pond named after a bay. . . sure. I'll allow that. The pond in question sits spitting distance from the bay in question. It sits just inside the curve of Discovery Road, as its westward path turns north (or southward path turns east... hopefully that tracks). I've birded here before in deathwish conditions, pulled off mostly on the side of a narrow, busy, two-lane road. Steve Hampton set me up with a better plan. 

Driving past the west end of the lake, one finds a gated pulloff, which is legal parking.

Returning back along the road (still a little deathwishy, but far less so), one can eventually see a little break in the Nootka Rose brambles. From there, you can slide through, and there is room for approximately one person to set up with a scope. 

I almost immediately landed on the Canvasback - Bird 194 for the year for the county. 

Lighting was pretty poor for the pictures. Additionally, I believe I am poor with a camera in these long-distance situations. I got satisfying scope views, and barely identifiable images through the camera. Success!

West Valley Road

A Rough-legged Hawk had been seen from this road, hanging around at Short Farm. I stopped and scoped from a few different spots, scanning over all fence posts. Eventually I found my final bird of the year, perched about midway out towards Center Road.

195!

This was extremely satisfying. I did an internal check, just to make sure that I was still okay not getting to 200. I was. It was ... well, satisfying is just a good word for it. It was a satisfying year. And what a fun bird to finish with! I love the oreo blizzard look of these birds, with the creamy white and the dark dark chocolatey brown/black. 

The Arts and Crafts Fair

North Beach painting nearly at center here
Picture taken before I had taken a closer look

I had been told the previous evening (at Finnriver) that I should really visit the arts and crafts fair at Chimacum High School. I do like taking in as much of the local scene as possible during these years, but figured that this would be lower on my to-do list. However, I landed in Chimacum soon after it started, and I saw a slow flow of cars filling up the parking lot. So, I gave it a look. 

Amazing stop! I paid my five dollars at the entrance and started strolling stall to stall. The very first stall hit me hard. The artist had numerous paintings with a focus on local places. I saw North Beach, and just got slammed by how much it was North Beach. 

I make a point time and time again in the blogs that I really love taking something abstract (like a map, or a birding checklist), and getting to concretely experience it. I talk about it as if it's the end all be all of life - go out and *see* things! But here it had come full circle. I read about places, went to see them, and now got to see an abstract interpretation of one of those places. And it just hit me hard. Maybe it was in part from the emotions of being "done" with this project. I don't know, but I had to leave the stall, and wander off to others, pretending to look things over carefully. 

I actually did get some good shopping in! A couple of bowls, and a beautiful puzzle. I even stood staring at some cribbage boards for many long minutes. I need to use my present cribbage board more often before I can really justify the purchase of another. 

On my way out, I stopped and told the artist how I could not buy one of the paintings, but I could confess my emotional reaction. "Thank you! That's why I do it!", he told me, seeming genuinely happy to hear it. 

And then. . . Olympia! I had a chance to meet up with a very dear friend for the afternoon. I could have stopped in Kitsap, maybe tried again for an American Dipper, or American Coot, but contentedness and balance won the day. 

195 for Jefferson in 2024. 155 for Kitsap. A fine end to the year. 

December 14th - Port Townsend Christmas Bird Count

December 14th

I started work on the 13th, finished on the 14th, got in my car and made my way to Jefferson County. Freelancing (writing in science education) has paid many of the bills, and moonlighting (hosting trivia and karaoke nights) has helped to round things out. I saw that both the Kitsap and Jefferson County Christmas Bird Counts were happening on the 14th. I could make it happen, but only if I did it this way. 

I'll say that the drive over to Port Townsend, from 2:15 to 4:15 in the morning, was really not bad. I've definitely found that "tired" is a term of limited use for me. The more useful terms for me are "sleepy" and "exhausted". I was exhausted, but not sleepy during the drive. Not going to drift off the road, but definitely in need of some hours of sleep before jumping into any birding. 

And here is where my thin understanding of hotels was exposed. In my head, there was just kind of always a person sitting at the desk of any hotel, ready to take you in and get you a bed. 

lol

I rolled up to the Port Townsend Inn, bleary-tired, and looked at the sign. Front Desk Closed. In case of Emergency, call this number. I mean. . . okay, I was *emergently* tired, but I could sleep in my car in a pinch? And the phrase I'd heard used often in education, "A lack of planning on your part does not constitute an emergency on my part," resonated in my head. 

I tried another hotel, The Tides... same sign, but promising a 6:30 opening. I saw it, and saw their emergency number, and stared at my phone, and back at the sign. I couldn't bring myself to wake someone just to get a bed. So, I drifted off to sleep in my car, in their parking lot. 

I woke up close to breakfast time, wind gusting through town very very gustily. I tossed the camping pillow into the back seat, folded up the blanket and tossed it back too, and headed for MacDonalds. It was a good stopgap measure. I could at least make sure that my eating day would not be disrupted, even if my sleep day was. 

Breakfast in me, I returned to the Port Townsend Inn, getting close to their advertised 7 AM opening time. As I head-bobbed outside their office, I saw a glimmer of hope - a person in the office, getting up to start opening. I got out of the car, peeked in, and ascertained that they were going to be sticking to their office opening time. I still wasn't an emergency. Fair. I went back to my car and waited. 

At 7 AM, I saw the door get unlocked, and lights get turned on in the office. I stumbled in. 

So. . . regardless of the presence of people in the office, it's really pretty unusual for people to stumble up to a hotel front desk looking for a room at 7 AM. In this case, they actually had no way to offer me a room on the spot. I was willing to pay for the previous night AND the upcoming night if I could get a room, but the gal at the front desk simply never been presented with this before. She sent off a text and offered me one of the chairs in the lobby. 

After about 20 minutes of me nodding in and out of sleep, and no reply, she actually called another hotel to try to get me a room. And maybe that's just what hotels do, but I still saw this as a great kindness when she told me that the Harborside Inn could take me. 

Checked in at 8, and they kindly just charged me for a single night.

I collapsed for a few hours, got up and admired the view from the room. 

And I was off to join the crew for lunch in Nordland. 

Nordland

What a neat little spot. I'd stopped here once or twice over the course of the year. The waterfront, I assumed, would be counted by another group, but I took some long looks, particularly enjoying it as a pair of Hooded Mergansers dove, both coming up with fish in their bills. 

Otherwise, I was mostly seeing Buffleheads, so I took a stroll up Beveridge Lane, which runs away from the freeway just north of the store. It had been so violently windy in the morning! At this hour, the wind had died some, and the sun was even attempting to peek through the clouds. 

Sparrows worked the brush and lawns at homes along the road. Mostly Golden-crowned Sparrows. Among the other birds in the mix, I was happy to see a Varied Thrush. Have I mentioned that this is my favorite bird? 

The rest of the crew arrived, including the leader, Gary. Gary and I had actually met while I was out and about birding in November, so it was nice to get tossed into his group. I got a text that the crew was retuning and met up with them inside the Nordland Store. 

The wind was the story of the morning. Overnight, there had been sustained winds of nearly 30 miles an hour, and it had settled down to maybe 20 for most of the morning. This had kept the birds under cover, by and large. Some spots had been unproductive, some spots had just been skipped altogether on the assumption that the wind would make it fruitless. The wind had also left the general store without the ability to process credit cards. Fortunately, I was able to secure a 0% cash loan with a simple promise too settle up later at the banquet. 

Have you been to a Christmas Bird Count? Have you been birding? I suppose any event like this is going to bring together an interesting cast of characters. If you're into people-watching, I strongly suggest that you give your hobby a try under the auspices of birding. You'll get some good ones! The common denominator for the morning (and on nearly all birding trips), was that the people were all pretty darn pleasant. 

They'd also all come in uniform, something that I have repeatedly thought that I should do some day - the all-weather pants, the rainproof boots, the brimmed hat - but here I was again, dressed for any old day in my jeans. Honestly, it'll probably take an incident - something where I end the day deep in regret for my cotton-based mistakes. But in the fifteen years or so that I've been birding, that regretful day has not arrived. Maybe I've been getting into my car and waiting for the downpour to stop? Who knows. But for the time-being, I'm going to continue the unimaginable practice of birding in jeans!

We went through the list of places from Gary's map. "And we don't need to go there... it's just going to be too windy," was heard multiple times during the morning. It was interesting to watch this thought collide with my silly optimism. What kind of an idiot goes to a beach in a fresh breeze, expecting to find any birds? This kind of idiot, likely. Maybe it comes from inexperience. Maybe it's the principle of the thing as well. For the scientific piece of a Christmas Bird Count, it feels odd to make a prediction (no birds) and to confirm it simply by not looking?

To be fair. . . if we are trying to count the birds in an area, heading to places where they would be most expected is also scientifically sound! I just figured that over the course of a long day, both plans might be squeezed in. Regardless, we made some good plans, got into our cars, and headed out.

That One Road off of Schwarz

Schwarz Road is a road that runs north/south on Marrowstone Island, going parallel to Flagler Road in a segment of the island that is wide enough to warrant two such roads. Gary had secured permission to bird on some private property, so we made our way to one of the side roads off of Schwarz. We pulled off to a little grassy spot - between a fence and the road - got out and started walking the area. 

Some nice little surprises popped up as we walked the main roads - Bushtits, and a flock of Pine Siskins were the first ones found by the group for the day. Wind was decreasing, and the birds seemed to be coming out. We ended at a field on the private property in question. It looked like a nice spot for birds! Close to residences, and some open space with blackberry brambles scattered here and there. But nothing really came out. 

At one point, I was invited to "make that pishing sound" if I knew how to do it. 

I gasped inside! It's rare that I run into a group of birders that doesn't include a pisher or two. It's almost refreshing and brings the birding back to "birdwatching" in many ways - don't bug the birds, just let them do what they do, and watch them when they make themselves watchable. And, of course, there's a whole range of practices, techniques, and mythology surrounding pishing! I've seen everything from... playing twenty minutes of mob tapes relentlessly to find (and to the surprise of notbody, to photograph) a bird... to bird count area leaders who think that pishing ultimately kills birds. 

These two ends of the spectrum act with such belief, that I can't pretend to have any True Beliefs on it. I just assume that there are grains of truth in both practices. And I pish a little. It really does get birds to pop up with not much effort. And, at least in my head, keeping it to a minimum will at least have a minimal effect (positive, negative, or otherwise) on the life of a bird. And I'm okay having minimal effects on things. 

On this particular day, however, it was slim pickings. A few of the expected sparrows, some kinglets, and not even so much as a Red-breasted Nuthatch in the wooded areas where we walked. My legs were happy to get out for the walk, at any rate. Happiness was not on the menu a short time later when we returned to our cars. 

The cars were, again, parked between a fence and the road, on a grassy area just wide enough to take us. As we returned, the owner of the fence (and naturally, the home back inside the fence, and apparently the area where we had parked), came out to sort things out. 

The guy was a little upset, and rightfully so, as we'd made some pretty good ruts in the grass. This wasn't the grass that he gazed at from his living room window, sure, but in my head, that didn't really matter. I like to *not* run afoul of people's private property while birding. Interestingly, it happens most often when I'm out birding with others! Members of the group provided apology words, if not actual remorse, noting as soon as he was gone that "he was upset that we rutted up his muddy corner", or something dismissive like that. I didn't mind moving on to another spot, needless to say.

Fort Flagler

We arrived at a parking area on the South end of the park. We looked over the maps to determine which parts had been done by other teams, and which had not. In the end, the decision was made for most of the crew to get started on a walk of some not-yet-birded trails, while Pete and I tackled Marrowstone Point and the main beach and campground for the park. 

I'm so glad I got the time with Pete, brief as it was. We got to chatting and realized that we had both spent time in Yakima. With some digging we discovered several different connections, including people and places. When we got to Marrowstone, he let me hop out and walk the area a little. His knee kept him from doing a lot of walking, and the morning had already asked a good bit of him. I walked to the beach shore and found nothing but huge whitecaps. The wind was really tossing things around!

A Golden-crowned Sparrow on the beach, some Buffleheads in a little pond, and a Glaucous-winged Gull, looking surprisingly unhybridized, mixed in with other gulls on the shore. 

Pete's knee got to him, and he had to skedaddle, but we were definitely well-met.

At the campground, I knew that shorebirds, particularly the Rock Sandpiper, might be on the most-wanted list. I arrived and found the birds on the campground lawn. Bingo! I moved my car around to use the scope on my windowsill. And they moved. I moved the car a little bit and repositioned the scope. And they flew. 

This is just part of the game. Birds are gonna be birds! So, I got out of my car and made my way towards the spit. The little spit at Flagler was another place on the list of "probably not going to be any birds there". It was just the first one that actually had some birds. Sanderlings skittered around at close range, and I found a bunch of Black Turnstones harboring a single Surfbird fugitive.

As I got further out on the spit, I got closer to the pile of shorebirds. There was also a pile of gulls - with some closer looks, I found that this pile included an Iceland Gull. Not new for the year, but a nice surprise that I'd only come across once before during the year in Jefferson. 

Likely a bonus Iceland Gull behind this one too

As I got closer to the shorebirds. They flew back to the lawn. Getting my steps in. Yay! So back I tromped, scope in hand. I finally got close enough to set up the scope in a good spot for scanning through the birds. In addition to the Black Turnstones and Sanderlings, there were many Dunlin and Black-bellied Plovers. 

With some work, I also found the Rock Sandpiper. 

Back into the car to warm up a little, jot down notes, and look at images on the camera. I noticed another birder returning from the spit. Ali was a leader on the other half of Marrowstone Island (I was technically from the "other" half, as this part of Flagler was in their zone. I got out and chatted with her, confirming that she had already found and tallied every bird I'd stumbled across. One of the more productive birders in Jefferson County this year, it surprised me not at all that I had nothing to add to her list!

We did decide that the wooded area abutting the campground would still be a good place to walk and tally without me doubling any counts, so we said our goodbyes, and I did just that. Nothing spectacular, but on a day like this, the Red-breasted Nuthatches I found even seemed spectacular. As the day calmed, the birds seemed to be coming out a little bit more. I wrapped up, texted the rest of the group for clarification with directions, and returned on the road back toward Port Townsend. 

Chimacum/Port Townsend

I needed to stop at Finnriver Cider to make my last stop for the year. What a great decision it was to hop into their program for the year! The bottles have been delicious and/or good gifts to others during the year, and I've come to associate their bustling tasting room with the end of a good day of birding. My favorite this time around, for largely sentimental reasons, was their Fruits of the Forest. They basically took all of the berries that make my kids nervous (along with chokecherries, which I have almost certainly not tried), and made a cider that just tastes like a forest snack. Thimbleberries are not listed in the ingredients, but the taste was reminiscent of them. Highly recommended. 

From here, I grabbed some apples at Chimacum Corner to bring to the banquet, grabbed cash from my room at the hotel to repay Gary, and zipped off to the banquet. 

The Rosewind Common House was the site of the banquet. I found Gary early, and made my way in. Interesting place! shoes came off, and slippers were made available. People were depositing their dishes of food. There was chili, of course. I don't think CBCs are legally able to submit their data unless chili is served at the CBC banquet, right? :D I found a few people I recognized, and we eventually got settled in to do some of the recaps and tallying. 

This is always the fun part. I love hearing about the surprises, and the stories as we go through the list of birds in taxonomical order. Beyond the general interest in birds that were absent, or surprisingly present, I was of course making note of any birds that I might want to chase the next day. Rough-legged Hawk and Canvasback sounded like the best candidates for that. A Yellow-bellied Sapsucker had been found, but not relocated, and a Short-tailed Shearwater had made a brief appearance at Point Wilson, but neither of those sounded particularly amenable to a chase. 

We wrapped up, stepped outside for a listen to a Great Horned Owl under a clear sky, then wrapped things up for the night.

I returned to the Harborside Inn and absolutely collapsed after a lovely day. 

November 2nd - Barrel-scraping in Jefferson, Dipping in Kitsap

My Cup Runneth Over

I woke up at the Port Townsend Inn. I had 191 birds in my pocket for the year, after picking up a Snow Goose on the way into town. Now I was looking for just a few specific birds before wrapping up my trip. But first, I was looking for breakfast. 

The Cup is a cafe on the south end of town that I've passed many-a-time on the way in and out of Port Townsend. How interesting it's been, getting to see a fair number of different diners, bars, and cafes over the course of the year - each of them had a slightly different vibe, slightly different clientele. You see it in the cars parked out front, in the chatter inside, in the signs and decor on the doors and bathroom walls. 

It's not unlike birding, in a way. You land in any habitat type, and you see and hear different species - the birds that are best suited to a place. The birds that can interact with each other in some kind of balance. The birds that can find what they need. 

One of my favorite ways to experience a habitat, to let it hit me with the sense-of-place that I cherish so much, is through the morning chorus. You head to a place in dark twilight and listen to robins, joined by sparrows, joined by warblers and grosbeaks. There have been times where the habitat is just amazing, and *many* birds can find a home in a small space. In those places, (such as Eagle Creek Road in Chelan - one of many such places), the morning chorus can be simply overwhelming. 

The Cup overwhelmed me with its morning chorus.

I walked past a big truck with a Trump sticker on the way in, seated myself, and spotted the likely owners in the far corner - five men at a table fueling up on eggs and coffee for an honest day's work. 

Two other older couples were seated at different parts of the restaurant, deeply engaged in conversations and hardly seeing me walk in. The waitress spun past my table, bringing me water and a menu. 

A young mother walked in with her two children. From her dress and her melanin, I gathered that she was a Native American woman. She sat fairly close and it was easy to pick up bits and pieces of conversation from their table over the course of the morning. The waitress swung by and poured water into cups, nearly to full. "You know, you can fill a glass above the top, and it makes a little cap on top. You can do that with drops of water on a penny." I smiled as she dove into surface tension with her kids - at a level perfectly suited to their ages. 

A young couple entered - both of them fairly stunning. One of the young men at the table of four lifted his head and. . . I mean, his eye went a little wide for a second. :D But he caught himself and returned his attention back to his friends and to his cup of coffee. 

The waitress continued to whirl effortlessly around the cafe, filling coffee cups, taking orders (including mine for a Denver omelet. I swear I could measure the progress of my life in Denver omelets and BLTs). 

A couple older gentlemen sat at a table, pulling several more together. They ordered and warned the waitress, "There are more coming!" One more man joined them just minutes later, and the conversation turned to encouragement. A little farther away, I could still hear talk of legal troubles, of upcoming hardships.

"... and the water keeps it from getting really hot or really cold..."

a burst of laughter from the far end of the cafe

another man to the table, and another, 

"it's going to be okay. No, it's going to be okay"

more whirling around the restaurant, the waitress filling cups

a man enters and sits two tables away, settling in with his guitar and starts strumming it

a black man about my age enters and starts scribbling notes in a small journal

and I start to tear up. 

Apologies, I usually post something like "Primitive Blog, no warning signs," in advance of these kind of unexpected moments. I could not tell you exactly what hit me at the time. I've had different ideas at different times. Certainly, in the week before the election, I had some anxiety. *Many* people had some anxiety in advance of the election. Not like a constant state of anxiety, but it was there under the surface now and then. Explaining moments like that may actually be sinful, or may run one afoul of local ordinances, but it didn't stop me from being curious. 

I think presently (nearly two months later), as I type this, I don't mind the morning chorus explanation. There were a lot of "species" singing their songs here, in a place where they were able to interact in balance and find what they needed to get by. If biodiversity leads to stability in ecosystems, surely the people in this cafe were a spiritual anthro-geo-econo-political sign that things were going to be okay. No... they're going to be okay. 

The Denver omelet was pretty good too. 

Birds!

It took me many years to stop staring at the slightly-lighter throat on 
a Golden-crowned Sparrow, trying to turn it into something else

Sorry! This is what you came for. I packed things up back at the hotel and made my way to 35th Street in Port Townsend in hopes of following up on a White-throated Sparrow sighting. 

In winter, we get White-throated Sparrows. We don't get a lot of them, but it's always worth sifting through any pile of White-crowned and Golden-crowned Sparrows in hopes of finding one. One had been found multiple times on this particular road, so I thought I'd give it a little chase and see what I could find. On the north side of 35th, near the terminus of the road, was the Puget Sound Eco-village - an intentional community of sorts. One of the houses in the village was right along the road and sported a few well-stocked feeders. 

I sat for a bit, watching some Golden-crowned and Song Sparrows, along with Spotted Towhees. I pished now and then but soon realized that I hardly needed to - the birds rotated through the lawn, occasionally perching on feeders or on the hedgerows or fences. I had a belief that this was my sparrow pile, and that I just needed to be patient to catch the White-throated Sparrow coming through. Who would pass on a free lunch, right? 

A car came down the road at a pretty good clip, parking at the very end of the road. A man quickly got out and started producing binoculars, camera - clearly a birder! 

I started in his direction as he followed a path past the end of the road - a bit of trail that continued off along fence lines and under trees for miles, if one wanted to follow it so far. He instead made his way directly to the fence. I arrived and introduced myself, finding that he was another local Jefferson County birder - one whose name I recognized from many ebird reports and many good birds. 

We chatted for a little bit and looked at some of the sparrows that perched on blackberry brambles tangled up with the fence. "Let me try this again," he pulled up his phone and played a mob tape. These are audio recordings of songbirds, usually ones responding to an owl or raptor of some kind. Lots of agitation and harsh calls that can be used to draw in other bird species when played. I've never been a big fan of these, simply because I like to bird by ear - lord, even if there aren't any birds singing, the quiet or the breeze are an improvement over listening to the chatter! And the tape itself was three or four minutes long (am I misremembering? was it six??). It was long. But hey, people have found some good birds with the tapes, so I stuck it out!

We watched as birds responded, including an Anna's Hummingbird that looked like it was trying to find the power button on the phone. No luck. "Let's try a different spot," my birding companion for the morning decided. Seemed sound to me!

Bewick's wren

 We walked about thirty feet away from the original spot, and I tried some pishing. He placed the phone in a new spot and started playing the tape again. 

I continued to stick it out. I knew that this was not uncommon practice - just a practice I'd not been able to employ with my flip phone. We watched as many of the exact same birds popped up. It may have been the same Anna's Hummingbird circling it, looking for the same power button. No luck. 

He pushed the button to get the mob tape to play again. 

"Hey, um... I'm going to go look over here!" I gestured off to the other side of the small field. "I'll let you know if I find anything!" He agreed to do the same, and I fled the chatter as directly as I could. As I got some distance, I started to relax again, as I could now hear the birds of the morning over the chatter that was receding in the distance. 

I had a *lovely* stroll of the neighborhood, including a walk past the Rosewind Common House, yet another community arrangement in this little three block radius. I added some more species for the morning, but no White-throated Sparrow. I made my way back towards my car, and tried a longer look at the feeders I'd been looking at before. 

While I was looking, a gentleman on a walk towards the trail stopped and chatted with me for a bit. Gary was a neighborhood resident who was able to tell me all about the intentional communities, the various trail connections, and even about the upcoming Christmas Bird Count (as the person who had previously organized it!). It was a lovely talk, but I eventually figured I should give up on this particular chase and head off to find some other birds. 

We said our goodbyes, and I got my car turned around. Windows down, I slowly crawled out of the neighborhood, listening for any interesting sparrow songs in the mix. Then my phone did one of the few things it does - it rang. I took the call, one about work, and at one point interrupted, "Hey Chris, I have to let you go. I have a White-throated Sparrow." The person knew me just well enough, and knew enough about these trips, to have a good laugh. 

I pulled down the side road where I'd heard the song, gave a pish, and found the bird in binoculars. 

It perched and then ducked away. 192 for the year!

Folks, I could have pished this bird back up for photos, but my sense was that the birds on this block had likely gotten their fill of interruptions to their routine. I honestly think that people using playback, mob tapes, pishing, etc., are usually doing it with good methods and good intentions. But the joy of having the picture would have been reduced by . . . I don't know, a vague feeling of Having Been Intrusive. I'm not defending the feeling scientifically, but I was at a point where I needed to be actuarial with my joy for the morning.

Satisfied, I drove through the cool Port Townsend morning to a spot right next to the hotel where I'd stayed. 

Kah Tai Lagoon

I had in all likelihood gotten pictures of an Eared Grebe here back in October. There was an Eared Grebe seen... nearly every day before my arrival, and nearly every day after - this for a period of weeks. The only confusion species would have been Horned Grebe - a species rarely seen at Kah Tai Lagoon, and not seen at all in the weeks before or after my visit. 

Unfortunately, my usual plan, take a picture of the bird and figure out what it is later, had been foiled by this little diver, giving me no pictures to definitively show that it was an Eared Grebe. And... it would have been easy to count it, and to just put "continuing" on the ebird report, but I honestly didn't have any observation sitting in my possession that could have justified it. Outside of... obviously I saw this bird, and obviously it was the Eared Grebe. 

But I wanted to honor the effort that an eBird reviewer had put in here. Poor Bill has needed to sort through observations from me all year long, from "That's just a Least Sandpiper" to "this photo has no scientific value", he has spoken truth to me all year long. In this case, he'd made an argument that the bird I'd photographed had field marks that made it clear that it was the previously photographed Eared Grebe. But he noted that, in this case, details in the bill were the single best way to show that this was an Eared, rather than Horned Grebe. 

And I did my homework. Looking at pictures of both grebes until I got something that. . . wow, it may actually stick. You see, both of these birds have pretty simple, delicate bills, but Eared Grebes have a bill that is often described as "upturned". After looking at many images, I kiiiind of agree. The thing is, the lower bill is tapered differently than the upper bill. The difference in these tapers gives an upturned appearance to the bill... it's just easier to call it upturned than to get into *why* it gives off upturned vibes. I saw it, and I knew that I could see it in a bird - if it was only close enough for me to see the bill. 

And I did. 193. Eared Grebe. One of the most satisfying birds of the year, because I learned something about identifying these very similar species. I *still* did not get pictures good enough to show the distinction, but I was able to see it in the scope well enough several times. One of the eleven running gags in these blogs I put together is "I don't know what birds look like," a statement that is partially true. I'd like to think that somewhere, somehow, this regular realization connects with some other birder who can't tell me immediately what color the legs are on a lazuli bunting. We birders know an awful lot about what birds look like. This includes me. But good lord there's a lot I don't know. And some of those things I don't know... a lot of birders *do* know. So, I'm working on it over time. This is one of those small victories where I feel like I know a little bit more. 

"Tertials" is almost always code for "I don't really know what I'm talking about at all." I can't tell you where the tertial feathers are on a bird. If I say tertials in any context, please send help. I have no other meaningful use of the word.

The Best Apple I have Tasted

Belle de Boskoop

I love apples. This goes pretty deep, predating any birding love that I've had, any significant traveling of the state. . . it's deep. 

I grew up in Yakima and spent a summer or two working in an apple warehouse out in the western outskirts of town. Back then, grocery stores had three kinds of apples: Red Delicious, Golden Delicious, and Granny Smith. They were different enough and were all fine. . . but one summer I had a life-changing experience when I tried a Gala. 

I get it. Today, there may be many other varieties of apples that you'd choose over a Gala. I'm not here to argue for the best apple here. I'm just saying. . . in a world where I'd only tried three varieties of apples, and where I'd only heard of a small handful of other in passing (did I know the word "MacIntosh" back then?? Think about that question and all of its layers), Gala apples were world changing. 

You've likely eaten a Gala. It's likely. As a fairly long-established apple at this point, and one that has been at least fairly well-received, it shows up in enough contexts. You've probably eaten one. 

It's even likely that you've passed them in the grocery store. It's possible, but less so, that you've leaned in on a neat stack of Gala apples and taken a deep whiff. Even less probable is that you've sat in a warehouse full of Gala apples on an August afternoon, in a world where you only knew three kinds of apples. These apples are fragrant - a simple fact that you can experience at the grocery store in small measure, and in a warehouse on a grander scale. 

Galas were my favorite apples at that time, and are of course my favorite apple romantically. You can't deny the power of that first kiss. 

Years later, other apples came along, some of them very good. Braeburns were challenging Galas for the top spot, when I had a Cox's Orange Pippin in season. Game over. It's a dessert apple that just blew my mind. 

And I've tried other apples since. I try any new apple that comes along and have found some that I'm really quite fond of. Opals are pretty easy to find and have a pleasant pear-like taste that I don't mind at all. 

I needed to provide this backstory to explain a trip to Chimacum Corner - a fine purveyor of produce and other assorted goods, sitting at The Intersection in Chimacum. I walked in and found *many* varieties of apples that I'd not tried. I got Karmijn de Sonnaville. I got Ludacrisp and Ashmead's Kernel. I got Florina, and I got my new favorite apple: Belle de Boskoop.

It's crisp, sweet, just tart enough, and flavorful. It's just everything you'd want in an apple. I'll say even now that I'm not arguing for the best apple. I might have been better off saying "It *was* crisp, sweet...", because so much depends on the tree, depends on when it was harvested, when it was shipped, sold, and eaten. But it brought me much joy to eat this apple. It brought me joy to eat all of them! I hope that in the years to come, I have more opportunities to find other varieties being grown in this beautiful state of ours. This was a lovely stop.

Kitsap, and one more attempt to find that silly dipper

American Dippers are silly birds. That's part of their marketing, basically. I mean, why would you, as a birder worth your salt, otherwise go to a loud, rushing river, where no other birds can even be heard? To see the plainest, most medium-sized bird ever to exist? It's not good branding. So American Dippers make up for it with their song (a crazy ramble that is audible above the aforementioned rushing river), and with their goofy up-and-down bob that they do while perched on rocks.

This was part of my interest in them. The other side-piece was the fact that they are regular enough in a fairly accessible location, and I'd gone all year without ever finding them. And in a county where there is a dipper spot. . . I come away with dippers. It's just how events proceed in any normal year. So, I had a responsibility, on my way back home, to stop and try for these birds at the confluence of Dickerson and Chico Creeks. 

As luck would have it, I arrived on a day when an event was celebrating the return of salmon to spawn on Dickerson Creek. Naturalists were posted at intervals of approximately 20 meters all along the roughly 100-meter trail (or so it felt). It was fun to bend the ears of the naturalists as I strolled and scanned for the birds. Fun too to see the salmon doing their darndest to make it upstream. As part of the event, polarized glasses were available, allowing the viewer to remove the glare from the stream, and see the salmon more directly. 

I did see lots of salmon, but no American Dippers. On the surface, knowing that a bird that *does* eat salmon eggs was absent seems like good news. For what it's worth, dippers maintain a diverse diet, even in seasons when salmon eggs are readily available! It's also worth noting that at least one source I found points out that fish egg mortality is almost a necessity, or the oceans would be full of fish pretty quickly!

The volunteers had polarized filters on-hand, allowing visitors to eliminate the glare of sunlight reflected from the turbulent creek. This made it possible to see the salmon in the water just a little more easily. 

And hey. . . no American Dipper. So, Kitsap County would have to stall out at 155 for the year. What funny birds! I only had this relatively short stretch of the creeks to look for them; They'd been seen along this short stretch (off and on) throughout the year. But it looked like I'd just be dipping on dippers!

Home from there. 

November 1st - Finally, Bainbridge Island

So close, and yet

Almost 16 miles, as the Common Raven flies

Bainbridge Island is spitting distance from King County. Maybe a little more than that, but not much. Birds seen in King County, from Alki, or Discovery Park, often drift far enough away to call them Kitsap County birds. Birds seen from Restoration Point in Kitsap do the same, drifting over into King County, while remaining visible.  

Having spent a few decades in Renton, however, the trip to Bainbridge often seemed like a chore for something so close. I'd either negotiate the drive up into Seattle, and through downtown to get to the ferry, or drive almost an hour and a half going through Tacoma. 

Many other places in Kitsap County are more appealing (like Peninsula no Peninsula) or closer (the entire southern half of the county). So, I'd just comically tried to see how much I could see for the year without stopping on Bainbridge. The gap in geography finally got to me. I cooked up a list of birds I might be able to find - maybe more easily from other spots, but still possible on Bainbridge. 

Getting out the door proved to be a challenge. I thought I had the day completely in the clear, but some review work in the morning had me tied up, and a client pushed for a video call to go over some of the work our writers had done. I made plans to head over to Bainbridge with a video call at lunch. I packed up and left for Seattle. 10 minutes up the road, I was cursing in my car, as I'd left my backpack, including the laptop, back at home. 

And it's easy to let inconvenience paint one's mood, but with some work, I decided to let it go. I eventually got what I needed, catching the ferry to Bainbridge with nearly no wait. 

I enjoyed making this trip. I don't think I'd done this in years, at least while paying any attention to the geography around me. It was fun to really see Elliot Bay as a bay, Alki Point coming closer and closer before the ferry finally pushed out into the open sound. I overheard a group of three women talking about orcas, and asked for clarification - one of them was a member of an orca alert text group, and there had been chat about a large pod making its way into this part of Puget Sound. Subsequent reports had them moving south, but it was briefly exciting to imagine coming across a pod of orcas!

Schmid Waterfront Trail

I'd looked over potential spots to stop, and honestly may have been confused on this point, but it worked out in the end. This trail is a platform 9 3/4 situation - very easy to miss, and. . . I'm 90 percent sure that I used it correctly, but there *is* that pesky 10 percent. I followed signs on the street, and it eventually led me to a private drive. The drive itself seemed to clearly note that turning around in it was unwelcome. I couldn't see how to park without doing this. And just outside of the drive was a little parking spot. I still had a little doubt about the propriety of parking in this little spot, but of the options I have, it seemed best. 

The trail itself was an interesting mix of accessibility. The trail had become a bit soggy from the rain, but there were planks on the trail allowing me to keep my toes dry. Twice along the trail to the beach, fallen trees/low branches forced me to duck pretty low to get through. This eventually opened up into a view of Eagle Harbor. 

I had some hopes of adding a few different birds to my year list here - Spotted Sandpiper and American Coot felt like the best bets. I scoped out to the east and found a raft of American Wigeons, including one Eurasian Wigeon in the mix. 

I'd honestly been looking for an American Coot, but that report had come from a similarly secret little path one harbor south - Blakely, not Eagle. But I still enjoyed this stop. It added to debunking a myth I'd developed over time regarding Kitsap County - that it was nothing but hundreds of miles of inaccessible shoreline. Now. . . I'm sure it's got those hundreds of miles! But this overlooks how many spots, large and small, are available for birding the county. 

On my walk back to the car, I was. . . in this person's driveway? At the trailhead? This becomes nebulous. But I heard a call that grabbed my attention. I put my scope back in the car and investigated the sparrows in the brush and came across a White-throated Sparrow! 153 for the year, and a nice surprise. They pop up nearly everywhere, to be clear, but so often at feeders, which are not always publicly viewable. Fun find. 

Pegasus Coffee House

Image from the Pegasus
Coffee site

I meandered through the streets of Winslow, looking for an inviting place to plug in for my meeting. It was interesting to take in some of the signs. "Hot Yoga", "The birthplace of pickleball", "Paint and Sip". One did not have to look far at any moment for little signs of the affluence of the community. I can't put my finger on why I chose those three signs, but somehow, it fits. Bainbridge does have a slight reputation for affluence - much like Queen Anne or Mercer Island, but a boat ride away from Seattle. 

I eventually landed at the Pegasus Coffee House. I secured a plug in (not always a given!) and was warned of spotty internet (it held up just fine), then got to work. Freelancing has been entirely remote work, and it's been nice when it provides this kind of flexibility. Sure, in a sense, no day is ever a day "off", as there's nearly always work to be done. But where and when that work takes place is flexible enough to allow for days like this. It was a little loud for a video call, once that got started. . . not perfect, but not unworkable. 

I finished off my breakfast sandwich and coffee and set off for Blakely Harbor. 

Blakely Harbor

This was a nice little stop. It was one where I hoped to catch the aforementioned American Coots. There are better places to find them in Kitsap, but that was part of the fun of the morning. Narrowing the geography of the search to Bainbridge forced me to get creative. A quick search of the googles tells me that this idea is called "creative limitation". Maybe my generation learned to love creative limitation through MacGyver. I've enjoyed it in so many forms since, from cooking shows ("The secret ingredient is cumin!", "You and your team will be catering a dinner for 40 using only an EZ bake oven!") to freestyle rap. It's part of the basic reason for getting into county birding in the first place. It's fun to find the birds that are easier, or a little more challenging in a given place. 

Horned Grebe - not even a hint of an 
upturn to that bill

This walk had easy parking, and a nice short walk to the water. I had a nice spot to pull out the scope and get closer looks at some of the birds. I spent a lot of time on a Horned Grebe in the little . . . man, I don't even know what to call this bit of water. It's the terminus of the harbor but seemed pinched off and separate from the rest of the harbor, I'll rely on description over definition here. My attention to the grebe was not about doubts regarding the identification. It was more a matter of practicing. I'd been flat-footed with an Eared Grebe on a previous trip, and I really wanted to get good views of the bill structure on this lil guy. 

I scanned the shores carefully for any other birds of interest and came up empty. Nothing further out in the harbor seemed to be asking for closer looks - no coots that I could see. So, I packed it up and made my way to the far other corner of the island. 

Fay Bainbridge Park

Up on the northeastern corner of BI, is a park with campsites, trails, and a wide-open bit of waterfront. Here, Western Meadowlarks were the outside-shot birds, although I had other hopes out on the water. One of the first scans of Puget Sound gave me a new year bird for Kitsap - Pacific Loons! (154)

I can't recall seeing such a large group of them together. There may have been a dozen of them, although they bunched up, spread out, dove, surfaced, and made it pretty hard to keep track! Fun to see the grey heads under different lighting take on such different hues. 

A single Common Loon - by far the loon I encounter most frequently - swam closer to shore. Some Red-necked Grebes were swimming in close, avoiding the fishing boats off the shore, and I even got a flyby from some alcids. Not a great shot, but in the end, I think I had Common Murres. Larger, slower alcids, and a few different field marks that fit their winter plumage. 

Satisfied that the shore likely had no more new birds for me, I went looking for a Peregrine Falcon. 

Agate Pass

The bit of water separating Bainbridge from the rest of Kitsap Peninsula is Agate Pass. Peregrine Falcons have been seen in this area off and on for quite a few years, from the bridge to some of the artificial structures around the Clearwater Casino. I took a little road on the Bainbridge Side that circled underneath the bridge, letting me scan the structures carefully. In Renton, a Peregrine hangs out near the south end of Lake Washington, so I had a pretty good feel for the kinds of perches they prefer. And then, as I finally dropped my binoculars, I spied the Peregrine on a tree branch! Unusual, in my experience, to catch them going au naturel when perfectly fine bridge trusses are available for perching. I don't know if it saw me going for my camera, but it flew south behind the trees and out of sight. (155!)

Jefferson County

Cooper's Hawk - Hicks Park

Once I left Bainbridge, I continued to the Hood Canal Bridge, then to Shine Road, then to Hicks Park. All year, I'd never been to this little spot, overlooking Squamish Harbor. But folks had been seeing a Franklin's Gull here for a week or so, and I had to give it a try. 

Cooper's Hawks were active in the area during my stay. One prominently perched along the road as I arrived, and another calling noisily later. Both were seen in flight at one point. 

Out on the water, the highlight was easily loonapalooza - 60 or more Common Loons (along with a Red-throated, and a few Pacifics) out in the Harbor. I don't recall seeing such huge congregations of these birds before today - maybe a seasonal occurrence? I also had an interesting call coming from East of the edge of the park. To my ear, it sounded like a Black Phoebe, but I never did see the bird. It's close enough to a Swamp Sparrow call (even more unlikely here, I'd think) or even close enough to some calls made by Golden-crowned Sparrows (more likely, even if it didn't seem to be a great fit). For a bird I didn't see, and one that had only been seen in the county for the first time last year, I decided to let this one go. 

I saw no signs of very few gulls, and certainly no strong candidates for a Franklin's Gull, so I hung it up and continued towards Chimacum. 

Another interesting post I'd seen was for some Snow Geese (191) at Short Farm. Kind of a drive-by situation is what had been advertised, and that was exactly what I got. A handful of birds in the fields with some Canadas. I pulled off of the road, got a poor picture, and got back on the road before slowing any traffic down. 

And then. . . the Port Townsend Inn. Finally, back to winter rates, and not on a festival weekend. My wallet appreciated this. I polished off some of the cheese and bread I'd packed and made it a relatively early night. Not a lot of new birds for the day, but such is November in these years! 

October 17th - Jefferson Half-day

Picture from a viewpoint along the Mount Walker Road
Courtesy of my copilot for the day, Maggie

Needs alerts

A sliver of my post-trip needs alerts

Kind of an uninteresting place to start, but it defined some of the planning for this trip. I had been birding Jefferson County with . . . near alarming frequency in August and September! Following a productive September trip, I passed on some interesting potential chases - Pectoral Sandpiper, American Golden-Plover, Red Knot, Short-tailed Shearwater - I knew they might have been good birds to add, but I needed to add balance to my life by not hopping in the car until October!

On eBird, you can set up alerts, giving you an email anytime a bird is reported that you need for a given list. I have quite a few set up! I get a daily email letting me know of birds reported that I need on my Kitsap Year List, for example. I get an hourly one letting me know of birds reported for my King County Life List. For Jefferson County, I get a daily alert for my year list. 

Day after day, it was giving me Eared Grebe. Not any Eared Grebe, but the same darn Eared Grebe that I'd missed on my last trip. One that was there day after day after day at Kah Tai Lagoon. I kept thinking the dang thing might leave, but there it was. Then. . . a couple of Clark's Grebe sightings here and there out on the Strait of Juan de Fuca. I pulled the trigger. 

Morning obligations

Outside of my obligation to take care of laundry, I had reviewing obligations to handle in the morning. For a late-morning-through-afternoon situation, I thought it would be a good time to reach out to Maggie, a new birder to the area that I'd met on a previous trip. The goals of the trip were for me to find this grebe, and for us to get her a Northern Pygmy-Owl. 

Outside of a single year of my life (spent in my "home" state of New Jersey), I have never lived outside of Washington State. Even college was in-state. Maggie, on the other hand, has spent time living in Indiana, Texas, Florida, Oregon. . . so her list of birds-not-seen is considerably shorter than mine, and in the state, the birds with the most real estate on that list are owls. 

Some of this is geography - some species are just not seen in the states listed - but some of it is also a disinclination to be out and about at 4 A.M. Fair enough! But Northern Pygmy Owls are active enough during the day and have been a fairly regular find for me on Mount Walker. So, we agreed on Kah Tai Lagoon, Mount Walker, and a lazy trip back through farmland to try for sparrows, raptors, and maybe a shrike. 

Kah Tai Lagoon

I grabbed a parking spot in the McDonalds lot behind the lagoon. Good time to actually fast forward a bit. At the very end of the day - maybe 7 hours later, I found a note on my car. The spot I'd used was needed for a regular delivery. The McDonalds employee met me outside when I arrived and was almost. . . Canadian about it. Like, they apologized for the note, and they clarified that it was otherwise perfectly fine for someone to leave a car in their parking lot for 7 hours. I found that this kind of an interaction fit the general speed in Port Townsend. 

Maggie arrived, and we set off on our grebe hunt. 

The weather report was mixed for the day - we weren't expecting balmy weather, but it was still surprisingly brisk. Maggie for her part had at least made an attempt to layer in appropriate Pacific Northwest fashion, and I was ribbed a little as I shivered in my two layers - a simple shirt and a rain shell. 

After some scanning we found several Pied-billed Grebes, some American Coots, a trillion American Wigeon (admittedly, failing to scan for the Eurasian that has been continuing here!), and one "other" grebe: 

This is a photo that has been bugging me, and I honestly don't know what to make of this bird situation. I am regretting that I didn't stay for more pictures, but this bird was pretty content to stay at a distance, and it spent much of its time (as grebes do) under the water. But here's the thing. Back in mid-September, people found an Eared Grebe out on Kah Tai Lagoon. There were some great pictures and notes about field marks. And since then, it has been reported almost daily, with no reports of Horned Grebe during that time. 

But this bird in the picture is giving me Horned Grebe vibes. The back is fairly flat, rather than being all bunched/hunched up as you normally see in Eared Grebes. But. . . how variable is that with posture? Could an Eared Grebe strike this pose? Same with the peak of its head. It seems farther back, behind the eye, while Eared Grebes have a peak that is pretty far forward. Gun to my head, I'd call it a Horned Grebe. 

But. . . what? Am I saying that one Eared Grebe was swapped out for exactly one Horned Grebe, and nobody noticed? Like. . . "The Podiceps Trap", coming soon to a lagoon near you! Even though Horned is the more common species, it seems equally far-fetched that the timing would allow for only single sightings of an Eared Grebe with no Horned that entire time. 

Or it's possible that there were two birds here, and they just did a great job of never being visible at the same time. The other pictures of this bird are not great, but I'll leave them here. There are often other field marks that people use with some skill that I'd just miss. I'd love to hear that this bird was an Eared Grebe - it'd be the 191st species for the year! But my sense of humor can weather it if it turns out that it's just a Horned. And I'd be glad that I hadn't just put it in as Eared in eBird, leaving a note like "continuing".

Maggie is about where I am for sorting out these grebes, so at the time, we were both content with the idea that the single bird I'd found out there was the single bird that had been previously reported. She carefully double-checked our species list with me - something that I slack on more and more as the year goes along! Then it was back to the cars to make the run up to Mount Walker. 

Mount Walker

Fries and Diet Coke in hand from the McDonald's, Maggie did the driving here. Three weeks or so from an election, and passing a bazillion yard signs, the conversation naturally drifted to politics. Passing Fat Smitty's at the 101 junction may have been the tipping point for that conversation! The establishment itself is a locally famous burger joint that I still haven't visited this year. They proudly advertise their conservative leanings, via flags and signs. I have heard interesting mixed reports - from people that have been made to feel uncomfortable while there, and others who, despite their orientation/color/political inclinations, have felt nothing but welcomed. 

From takeout-guide.com

I haven't been in, so it's not for me to say at all, and it's definitely a stop I hope to make by year's end. I have a sometimes Pollyanna-ish view of the world and think that people are people. I like it during these years when I can get myself out of my echo chamber and get a chance to at least eavesdrop on conversations happening in the other echo chambers. Given the placement right on the Highway, any birders making runs off to UberHotSpots like Neah Bay have at least passed this place, so I really should get in. It's why I do these years honestly.

That, at least, is part of the running shtick in these blogs. Maggie and I discussed this at length throughout the day. It's. . . a lot of driving, birding, backpacking, kayaking, golf-cart-driving, and apparently squinting at grainy photos of grebes. But why do I do it? There are honestly a lot of answers. There are times where I'll put my tongue in cheek and resoundingly affirm that "I'm not really all that interested in birds." And there's a half-truth in that. Not that I don't have an interest in birds, but that *if* I had no interest in birds, there would still be 11.736 things about every day I spend on the road that would make it worthwhile. 

This conversation would count as one of those things. Maggie shared a lot about her family, her "birding path" (if I want to make us birders sound like a weird cult, which . . . I'll allow, tongue partially in cheek), and the important difference between being gungho and hellbent. As she followed career opportunities to different parts of the country, her bird list grew. At some point, it certainly became a situation where adding to that list could be done through carefully mapped out trips to this place or that place or jumping in the car and chasing a rarity. But her interest in that type of pursuit just isn't there. Gungho, but not hellbent. Same here.

At Mount Walker, we drove the winding dirt road to the top, got out at the North Viewpoint parking area, and looked out at the fog encircling us. 

It wasn't the day we'd expected. Reports seemed to provide a little more hope for clearing. But for an attempt to find Northern Pygmy-Owl, the setting was just fine. The fog was honestly beautiful anyway in this setting. As we walked towards the north/south viewpoint intersection, we were passed by a jogger. Hiker? She evaded classification, as she explained that she'd hiked up and would be just running off and on for the trip down. 

"So, what are you looking for?"

This was another fun little interaction. She actually lived near the foot of the mountain in the outskirts of Quilcene, which got us talking about various roads, and access to places like Devil's Lake. 

"As you go down (I can't remember which) road, there's a sign that says "no access to Devil's Lake". That's how you know it's the right turn." She explained with a wink. This actually brought me back to very early in the year, birding with another local Jefferson County birder. More than once, we walked past some signs that seemed to at least hint that we shouldn't walk past the signs, but. . . sometimes in Jefferson County you do, it seems. Not always! But sometimes. That's not stressful at all for an out-of-town birder, right? 

Douglas Squirrel

As we continued, Maggie mused over how odd it was that people in our state actually want to start conversations, relative to people in the Midwest, who generally keep to themselves. My brain did a little double-take on this, as Seattle is quite famous for its Freeze. But maybe there's a nuanced difference. Perhaps Seattleites (and how far out does this generalization reach?) excel at the elevator talk, but balk at the idea of actually coming over for the potluck. And the midwest may be quite the opposite - cheerful greetings and "howdy"s, but let's keep moving along, and I'll see you at the potluck. Unless you're from outside of this town of 300. And then no.

I'm no expert, but it's fun to try to sort through this stuff. In the spirit of "howdy", I occasionally gave a few Northern Pygmy Owl whistles (happy to see that Merlin on Maggie's phone, at least, was fooled by my efforts). During a silent part of the walk, we got greeted back! A quick trill from one of the little guys, followed by a clear, single toot. 

High fives were had, and we continued to the South Viewpoint. 

"See. . . this is why I do these trips." I said as we looked out on this strange and beautiful view. Above us, dark clouds, and below us was Dabob Bay (and Hood Canal at a distance), the water bright from reflected sun. This, and it was all seen through immaculately clear air. It was almost eerie, being in and under a cloud, and being able to see Seattle better than I'd seen it before from the viewpoint. 

Maggie showed me ocean spray, and I had her taste some late season salal (some of it still delicious), and we returned to the car. 

Jefferson County Farmland

This was a fun part of the trip. It was very undirected. I didn't have much to chase but had an inkling that farmland would at least have some possibilities. Snow Goose, White-throated or Harris's Sparrow, Northern Shrike, Peregrine Falcon, and Rough-legged Hawk were the unlikely suspects that at least tickled my brain as we explored. This included Boulton Farms Road, Uncas Road, West Valley Road, and Egg and I road.

Boulton Farms was the most interesting stop, with plenty of zonotrichia Sparrows to sort through. At the end of the road, we also happened on a field with Canada, Cackling, and Greater white-fronted Geese. My only Greaters for the year had been a heard-only flyover, so I didn't mind adding the visual for this bird. 

Uncas was interesting as always. Not much going on bird-wise, but it was nice to revisit the trees there with a tree geek. Maggie gave me. . . lord, I've forgotten it, but it may have been "Spiky Spruce, Friendly Fir" as a little mnemonic device. There were possibly multiple species of both trees present, as well as multiple species of pine, which got us talking about the needle-counting method for telling them apart (something I'd come across years back in Douglas County).

Such a variety of conifers packed into close quarters

It was easy to trust the Shrike search to the midwest girl with the Loggerhead Shrike tattoo. As we drove, she pointed out perches, and my brain slowly folded this in with places that I've seen them over the years. Only one raptor really grabbed our interest, a Red-tailed Hawk that didn't immediately appear to have the backpack straps as we passed it. 

As interesting as the raptor search got

Day's end

Naturally, we finished off the day at Finnriver Cider. The discount has been a nice draw (I got in at the Crow level for the year - just committing to six bottles a quarter), and they always seem to have something interesting cooking. On this particular day, it was only their own kitchen available for food, rather than the usual pizza, oysters, tacos (they were busy with a catered event). The sun dropped in the sky as we shared some life stories, and we "settled up" the way my old friend Pete and I always did. Just sometimes saying "I'll get this" and letting the other person doing the same when they want to. I always enjoyed birding with Pete for that reason. Accountants may not see the appeal. 

And accounting-wise. . . where am I?? I don't even know. I know I have seen 190 species for the year. I have sent my grebe pictures out so that better eyes and better brains can pore over them (although, they'll likely *hate* having to look at such grainy photos. . . I tried to append my inquiries with sufficient apologies). I. . . I have no idea. I'll be surprised by nearly any comment. Maybe except one, "I can't tell from the pictures." Hopefully, one of the responses will at least tell me something about grebes - not for this bird, but for the next one I'm going to see.  

Follow-up! Good news and bad news on this grebe. I got information that'd make me comfortable, gun to my head, in saying that the bird in the picture is an Eared Grebe. The Jefferson eBird reviewer looked over my pictures and old pictures of the grebe from September and saw a lot that pointed towards it being the same bird. He also pointed out that posture (such as the hunched back or forwardly peaked head) is more variable than people realize. So, basically, the Horned-looking pictures that I'd provided did not rule out Eared at all. Add to this, another birder saw the Eared Grebe just a day or two after my visit.  

So why not count the bird? I have struggled a good bit over this one! The one thing that might have made it possible to go with Eared is apparently bill-shape, which is not shown clearly enough in any of the images. So. . . the only things I have to "count" the bird are based on logic, more than observation and identification. I may have been able to put it in an eBird list and marked it as "continuing". But a running gag in my blogs is that "I don't know what birds look like." It's a little hyperbolic, but it's times like this where I think it rings true enough. I've relied on other marks to identify grebes in the past, and have never really gone to bill-shape, which... if you think about it... is hard for a grebe to change through changes in posture! 

So, I'm letting this one go for now. But I do hope to get back to that bird (please stick around, buddy), and to give it some better looks, try to get better pictures, and do a little studying of field marks in the interim. Everyone's list is their own, so I'm not saying this is the "right" way to do it. Some people may have counted this bird, and not counted, for example, the Lincoln's Sparrow that I discussed in the last post. Throughout, this is just an effort to be transparent, and to discuss that often completely unimportant, but in other ways completely essential question - how do you know what that bird was? 

 

Adding birds at the speed of a wooly bear