August 21st - Shorebird Trip

Days had passed since my trip out to see the Red-footed Booby, since my trip to Mount Townsend, and it seemed that each passing day brough more reports of birds passing through, including a lot of shorebirds, both in Kitsap and Jefferson Counties. 

Sitting at 182 in Jefferson and aiming for 200 species for the year. . . sitting at 137 in Kitsap and aiming for 150 for the year. Migration had really been hopping, and it had just been hard to make a trip out. On the day that I decided to make a run for it, I packed up in the morning and dropped my daughter off in downtown Renton for her work at 10ish. Then I was on the road. 

In retrospect, this really didn't leave me a lot of time to explore and/or catch birds at good tides, but you get what you get, and you don't get upset, yeah? 

Kitsap

I made a handful of stops in Kitsap. The first was Sinclair Inlet at Gorst. I'd hoped to find some shorebirds, and I did! Nothing new, but there were scads of Least and Western Sandpipers, as well as the ever-present Killdeer and Greater Yellowlegs. 

Turkey Vultures sat on the far shore of the inlet - three of them, before one took flight to circle overhead. An Osprey circled as well for most of the time I was there. The usual gulls were there, but this time there were also some California Gulls (138 for the year!), giving me a common bird that I'd been missing most of the year. 

Apples - Dickerson Creek

Next, I stopped at Dickerson Creek. This may have counted as lolligagging - trying to find an American Dipper during a hot week of migration. Dippers are generally found year-round at their usual spots. But I hadn't found them this year, and I really hoped to get them crossed off of the needs list. I parked, walked, and scanned. The creek was a bit slow, and no dippers were to be found. I did end up coming across a Pileated Woodpecker (139), thwacking away heavily at a tree on the far side of the creek. 

Submarine - Port Orchard

Up on Peninsula no Peninsula, I made a quick stop near George's place to listen for Olive-sided Flycatcher but found none. From there, In continued to Point no Point. This stop was fun, if only because I got a chance to see so much fishing. Droves of people were lined up on the shore by the lighthouse, poles in the water - and not without success!

90 percent sure that they said these were Coho Salmon

Here I picked up two new birds for the year as well. The first was a Merlin (140), hunting from the fields next to the lighthouse. 

Merlin - Point no Point

The other, out on the water, was Marbled Murrelet (141).

Marbled Murrelet - Point no Point

There were so many Bonaparte's Gulls out on the water. I'd heard tell that people had seen other gulls mixed in, including a Sabine's Gull, but no interesting gulls stood out on this slightly overcast day. My experience with off-brand gulls (Sabine's, Little, Laughing, Franklin's...) is also pretty light, so for me it was largely a learning experience in regard to juvenile Bonaparte's Gulls, which were a smaller portion of the gulls on the water, and stood out significantly. 

Quick stop en route

I finished Kitsap with a trip to Foulweather Bluff (no interesting shorebirds) and Driftwood Key (same, although goodness, there were a lot of Purple Martins). Port Gamble gave me a chance to stop at the cafe in town for a bowl of soup and the curried chicken sandwich. I opened the laptop here, handled a few reviews, and checked eBird for any leads. Jefferson had a lot of promise!

Jefferson County

Promises promises. :D I made a stop at Oak Bay, and a stop at Kah Tai Lagoon, finding no shorebirds of interest at either place. From here, I went directly to Point Hudson and found one more Jefferson bird - Surfbirds! (183)

Black Turnstone
So pretty in flight!

I missed these during the winter months, so I was glad to get them checked off, but. . . there had been a lot of other shorebirds reported! Red-necked Phalarope, Ruddy Turnstone, Wandering Tattler, Semipalmated Sandpiper. . . I guess, I just hoped that one of them might be findable, but there wasn't much variety while I was there. The tide was clearly in and wouldn't really be dropping until dark or so. This was the cost of a late departure, I suppose!

I really got to know Black Turnstones, if nothing else. There were hundreds of them on the shore, and I was amazed at how difficult it was to startle them. I'd get close, and some other thing would disturb them, causing hundreds of them to file, one by one, just a few feet in front of me. The facial marking caught my eye, with some of them showing a little bit of white around the eyes while other had pretty black faces. 

I made a quick run to Fort Worden. No Red-footed Booby while I was there. But I did get to see some mammals putting on a show - juvenile River Otters, one with a large fish in its mouth - and Harbor Porpoises, as close as I've been able to enjoy them. 

Much closer than last time. So fun to see the dark markings!

Back to Port Townsend to grab a quick Chinese dinner (Four Seasons - tasty orange chicken!). I passed a laundromat where people had gathered for a DNC watch party. I admittedly had it on the radio as I drove, listening to numerous speakers whenever I was headed from A to B. 

I got parked at Port Hudson again, and just watched for anything to come flying in. I kept the radio on, and continued to listen to the conference, and very little changed on the shore in front of me. I took Beaver Valley Road out of town, pulling over a few times, optimistically thinking of Barn Owls. Nope. 

Four Kitsap birds, and a single Jefferson bird added to the year. I have since come across several days where I considered a late morning departure, but I've hesitated. I likely just need to drive out for a couple days, as soon as things open up enough to do so. 

August 11th - Mount Townsend

Getting the band back together

Early on in this endeavor, I'd started an annual tradition of heading out on an annual hike with my son, Declan, and my nephew, Dirk. This happened in Mason County in '15, in Chelan County in '16, and again in '17 to Gothic Basin in Snohomish County, a trip that at least got a reference, if not a full post in my summary of that year. 

High Steel Bridge, nearly 
ten years ago!

Life got a little crazy in the intervening years, and in other years I had good reasons - the loss of my father during my year in Klickitat - fires near Douglas County, and a lack of mountain hikes that might pull some interest from the boys.

Between Kitsap and Jefferson Counties, there was no lack of places to hike. In this case, Mount Townsend in the Olympic Range kind of volunteered itself. I'd had an idea to do a pretty optimistic backpacking trip, heading up to Townsend, around the horn to Marmot Pass, and finishing twenty miles later in a glorious four-day, three-night loop. I honestly still love the idea of that trip, but it got whittled down to a three-day, two-night trip up to Marmot Pass (or at least that's the current plan!). 

Mount Townsend was left out of the loop, so this was an easy choice. I've been in the Seattle area for years now. The Olympic Range has been there throughout that time. On the horizon as I worked the ticket booth at Pacific Science Center, decades ago. On the horizon every time I made the drive down Benson Road in Renton. It actually has bugged me that I can't look across this view and name every peak. I needed to summit one of them, and none is as easy as Townsend.

Incidentally, my year list sat at 182 for Jefferson County before this trip. And I really had hopes of adding species on the trip. Ruffed Grouse, Clark's Nutcracker, Mountain or Western Bluebird - any of them would have been reasonable finds on this trip. And. . . oh to dream. . . I could have found a Townsend's Solitaire on Mount Townsend. Let that sink in. But hey, spoilers. I found no new species on this trip. Read my lips. No. New. Taxa. 

I have drawn a Venn Diagram in my head - people who get the historical reference, and the people familiar with the biological term. . . For those of you in that little sliver of overlap. I hope you enjoyed that one. It's been in my head for weeks now. 

Up and at 'em

Any hike. Any hike? Yeah, I think any hike is best done as early as possible. Getting all of us out the door and to the trailhead to Townsend was an oh dark thirty endeavor. Three A.M. alarm. Packing. Potatoes. Coffee. Road. The sun came up on our drive out. Hood Canal Bridge - we talked about the Mason County trip from nearly a decade earlier, and continued on to Quilcene. 

As I got closer to Quilcene, I popped Penny Creek Road into my GPS. I followed it... to a gate. 

Penny Creek Road can be reached via Lords Lake Loop Road
or at least that's implied here? I got gated, and I think it happened on the dark blue.

Returning to the freeway, I told Dirk and Declan that I knew the roads well enough to get us there. I got on Penny Creek Road and followed it... to a dead end. Now, for what it's worth, we did get to see a bear on this side trip, galumphing across the forest road as we descended. 

Third time was the charm. Phones. Smart phones. Once we got service back in Quilcene, we got the route put into the phones and got directly there. (Noting each sign pointing to the Mount Townsend Trailhead along the way. Reading. Smart Reading. It's another option).

The up

Indian Paintbrush

Four miles, and 3000 feet of elevation gain. This was a nice step up from previous hikes during the year - the Hoh River Trail, Gold Mountain in Kitsap, Mount Walker along Hood Canal, and North Beach in Port Townsend. It may even have been a step up from the Spotted Owl trip, or maybe it was a shorter hike? Can't say!

Flowers were in bloom - Indian Paintbrush was by far the most abundant and recognizable one for me. As we hit some openings, we occasionally caught little clusters of butterflies. One of them in particular caught my eye - a large white butterfly. On closer inspection, I saw these butterflies had black and orange markings on them. Nothing like I'd seen before! Apollo butterflies, it turns out, were the ones I was seeing. Fritillaries, slightly smaller and orange, were everywhere as well. 

Tough to catch these butterflies being still, but Dirk did in this shot.
I think this one's Parnassius Clodius

Snowshoe Hare? Too small 
to tell, perhaps, but they might be
the only member of this family 
that is widespread in 
the Olympic Range

I snapped pictures all the way up. My snapping game was outstanding. Flowers, butterflies, peekaboo views. Imagine for a moment, the pictures that'd be here if I'd remembered to put the sim card in my camera. Magnificent to imagine. Thankfully, Dirk and Declan both took some good pictures along the way. 

The conversational map for the ... boys? Sure, I'll call them boys still ... ranged far and wide. Fitness, public transportation, intellectual assents to posited truths. This went on between them as I just focused on oxygen retrieval. I realized how I'd made it through so many other hikes this year. Going solo, and stopping for long stretches of time to listen to birds, pick berries, etc. etc. Today was not peaceful, not restful, not even particularly birdful. 

And add to this... there were arguments taking place, rife with all of the logical fallacies one might expect from a pair of zoomers, trying to spread their philosophical wings. And I was too short of breath to even interject. "Straw man! Ad hominem!" I'd think it loudly, the conversation would continue, further increasing my heart rate. 

"Stop." I told them at one point. I'd done this at a couple points, and they knew I just needed a breather. My heart rate started to decrease. 

"So, if what you were saying is true, then what would faith mean for a Hindu...."

"No, no, no like stop." My heart rate went back up, and finally slowed down enough. 

I set a few things straight, got them back on a conversational road of some sorts. I smiled, "Continue." and we walked and they talked. 

The views started to open up. Not immensely. Understand that we left Renton in clouds and sprinkles. I had no belief that we'd even stay dry during the hike. Blue skies above, and clouds below. So, the views didn't include Seattle in the far distance, as it might on some days. Just layers of mountains with mountains behind them, and mountains behind them. 

Admittedly, the flies were a little problematic. I killed one on the entire trip. It was a joy. And I never did get any bites. The bulk of the fly experience was experimental. I of course tried to take some swipes at them, but usually missed. I tried ignoring them, and they'd land on my hands. In one of the more daring experiments, I tried converting my trekking poles into dual helicopter blades of doom - each spinning wildly around my wrist where the strap anchored them. Surprisingly, this was perhaps the worst of all of the efforts. The flies actually became very focused and aggressive. 

So, how do you keep these flies from circling you? The solution is breathtakingly simple. Just walk close to a tree. It interrupts their circle, and it must disorient them somehow, because they don't immediately rediscover the circle. And there must be something about the tree's immobility that reduces the suspicion/frustration/anger response that the Polecopter 5000 elicited from them. There you go. Use it and enjoy good things on your hikes.

It does get to a point where you can just see the top. This was our stopping point. I got some water, including some with electrolytes that Dirk had brought. I tried to do some of the sandwich I'd packed, but gosh. . . chewing on bread, when your fluids are a little down is just a little more work. But we got to feeling a little refreshed and made the final push to the top. 

The top

There's an area that is a clear high area for Townsend. Additionally, there's a group of rocks that were pretty clearly the high point of that area. And there was a group sitting around it having a picnic. And I mean, hats off to them. Five friends making it to the top of Townsend on a beautiful day and enjoying views deep into the Olympics. I did hope to get a picture from The Top, but figured I could wait for them to wrap up, and I could look for some birds in the meantime. 

From the tippy-toppiest point

Red-tailed Hawk, Common Raven, Yellow-rumped Warbler, Northern Flicker. That was it! I'd had hopes for so many birds - not fully expecting any particular one of them, but figuring *something* interesting would be at the top. Nope. 

And ten... fifteen minutes later? I finally did the thing. "Hey! I'm so sorry, but I was hoping to get a picture from the top there. It's like. . . right in the middle of you all. Do you mind if we do that really quick?"

Silent digestion of the question. . ."Uh. . sure."

Silence. . . and a little more.

"Uh, do you need us to move?"

"I mean. . . unless you wanted to be in our picture?"

I still go back and forth over the decision. It's an extra foot or two - and you've got the exact same views from many surrounding spots that *don't* involve picnic relocation.

But then also. . . it's the top of the mountain. You've hiked this far, it's kind of the feeling of accomplishment. And part of me really wanted to believe that they might process the request, and see this? And think "Oh. . .maybe other people besides this guy might want to do the exact same thing, obviously." and like. . . move the picnic to one of the surrounding spots that have the exact same views and *don't* involve a siege of the summit. But they just kind of moved back after we got our shots. 

Much of the talk on the way down was about Millennials. lol. I'm not proud that I carry around frustration towards a generation. As I processed the interaction, and the reaction from this group, it just felt like it all tracked. I'm not saying that this is true of Millennials, or that it was good for me to think it, but in the spirit of transparency, my hypothesis: I think that large groups can sometimes have trouble seeing things from the perspective of smaller groups. I think that they often don't need to engage in this perspective-shifting, because they are less likely to encounter other perspectives. And in those situations, larger groups can set up structures that meet their needs, and find a lack of mobility, when it comes to making adjustments that might help others meet their needs. 

It's a big jump to make from two feet of mountain and a three-minute interaction. And I try every day to see things that don't fit this idea. But we've had the boomers, and their kids are largely millennials, and there are times where their echoes are deafening. I've noticed it. I wonder if the patterns actually help define the generation. If so, I wonder if it could or should change. 

Or. . . Tim. Or is this just a natural resentment that people feel about any other generation? Of all of my wonderings, that's the one that I can actually control. Focusing on things you can control is *often* the best course!

The down

It was naturally a little faster on the way down. Fewer breaks. I anticipated some knee pain on the trip down. This has been the normal thing over the course of many years. And yet, come to think of it, I'd felt none on hikes in the previous year. The year before? I had to stop and think back to any significant hike where I'd been that uncomfortable. At least five years, maybe more. I can't say that I've gotten that much fitter over that time! But maybe a change in footwear has made the difference? That's my best bet, but it was just very encouraging. 

Dinner

The plan had been to stop in at Quilbillies in Quilcene - a place I've really come to love as a stop, both for the food, and for the people who work there. But as we arrived, we found the restaurant was closed for a leak of some kind. 

In the end, we went to another place I've visited a few times - Finnriver Cider in Chimacum. Pizza, cider, and live music. And all food tastes better after eight miles of hiking up a mountain! I slowly felt my spirits return, my generosity, my charitability. The ferry ride was similarly restorative. There's something about being on the water and having the wind on your skin.

Dirk's photo

And honestly, despite my efforts to paint my temporary discomforts in comical tones, it really was an amazing trip. Zero new birds, a failure to put my sim card in my camera, getting lost a few times, cloud obscured views, monstrous flies, and gasping breaths aside, it was so great to get the band back together, share some love, and conquer a mountain together.

Dirk's photo - on the Bainbridge Ferry - a first for the year!

August 7th - Booby Prizes

Boobies

Late July and early August are an interesting time of year for the birds. Songbirds in the lowlands have usually quieted down. Ducks are changing plumage, becoming more cryptic. Migrating shorebirds are appearing in puddles and fields here and there. And high elevation spots are finally opening up for hiking and camping. 

In this particular year, a booby got lost. 

Boobies are birds from the tropics. From all I could find, this is the history of the world's six species in relation to the Evergreen State

Blue-footed - Two sightings seventy years apart in Puget Sound. 

Nazca - Never seen in state waters until recent years, but now seen in 3 of the last five years, including Puget Sound recently.

Brown - A single sighting in the last century, but quite a few in this one, throughout Puget Sound, along the Strait of Juan de Fuca, and out on pelagic trips. 

Masked - Hasn't come closer than Northern California. 

Peruvian - the most localized species. It's only rarely been seen north of Panama. 

And the star of our show. . . Red-footed. This bird had only been seen once before in the state, about six years back. They're widespread globally, but chance (and climate change?) had not yet conspired to bring any more than this single sighting. Then, in the last week of July, a juvenile was seen from a whale-watching boat in the Strait of Juan de Fuca. A few days later, and it was seen again further up the Strait, at Dungeness Spit. 

At this point, I don't know the whole story. Did people realize the bird might be seen again? They're such big, distinctive, clunky birds, I suppose it would only make sense to keep an eye out! And then again, the bird was seen in the waters near Port Townsend on the second of August. 

And then at some point, it landed on the roof of the Port Townsend Marine Science Center, and decided it was happy.

Time to Chase

This was not an easy decision! I made a trip to Yakima right about the time the booby arrived, and I had plans to hike Mount Townsend on the 11th. This bird could easily have departed as I kept my Yakima plans. . . could easily have departed as I returned home and got caught up on work. And at some point, it would be far too silly to run out to find the bird, just to return the next day. I also kind of needed to see more sightings for other birds that I might be able to relocate. A trip out for a single bird would have felt strange!

I kept thinking that I'd just combine it with my trip out to Mount Townsend. Find a bunch of birds up in the mountains, and then drag my son and nephew out to the waterfront to pick up a few more. But. . . sightings started to pile up. Herring Gull, Surfbird, Cassin's Auklet, Red-necked Phalarope, Parasitic Jaeger, Merlin, all added to two or three Barn Owl locations in the county. . . I had to make a run for it. I think on the morning of the 7th, I just cranked through my writing obligations and saw some of these sightings staring back at me. It was time to chase!

I landed in Port Townsend around 3:30-4:00 and realized. . . I didn't know where the building was. I stood there at Point Hudson, just up from downtown Port Townsend, and looked at some Heermann's Gulls. No giant booby plopped in the middle of them, and more importantly - no birders! I texted around and found out that the building in question was one I'd driven by a few times this year - out at Point Wilson. 

As I packed up, another birder saw me with my scope and camera. She asked if I'd seen anything particularly interesting, and I got her up to speed. She introduced herself as a master birder from the Seattle area and she'd not really heard about the recent sightings. So, we both hopped in our cars, and she followed me up the road to Point Wilson. 

This was a pretty easy bird (and still is, nearly ten days later as I type this, incidentally!). Lots of people gathered around the building, and the bird was resting, posing for us at length. This was the first booby species I'd ever seen, so it was nice getting to take in some of the simple things - the way it walked around (only occasionally) and some of the notable field marks, especially in terms of overall size and shape. 

Fun fact - one of the booby's most significant predators? 
Coconut crabs - 3-foot monstrosities that drag whole
birds into their burrows. I saw a video and am now scarred.

Nobody left while I was there. They stayed, cameras pointed at the bird, waiting for the money shot. At some point, I felt the call of all of those other bird sightings and continued to the end of the pier. Nothing too interesting out there, although I was finally able to get a few Purple Martins photographed. 

I'm not holding myself to photographed-only birds this year, but I've had fun trying to get as many as possible, nonetheless. Some of the pictures over the course of the year have been a little fuzzy. . . or a lot fuzzy! Time, of course, is one of many things I could spend to improve this situation - waiting for better angles, adjusting settings, etc etc. But I trust the numbers. By this I mean. . . I trust that this internal sense I've got, the sense that I should get moving along to the next bird, to help try to reach numerical goals during the year, is going to lead me to some interesting birds, and (more importantly) some beautiful places. 

In this case, it wasn't even all that far that I traveled - just up to the lighthouse. Here, I set up the tripod and scope and watched the water for about as long as I've ever set up and watched water. 

Rhinoceros Auklets. There were so many of these over the course of the afternoon/evening! They'd fly by in the fives and tens, while some closer in towards the shore would just sit there and fish, coming up with bills full of silver. 

Gulls. . . Heermann's and California, and an assortment of hybrid gulls. I tried to pick out some Herring Gulls on the shore, but to no avail. I also watched the distant piles of gulls on the water, hoping that I'd eventually catch a Parasitic Jaeger out there. Bingo! My 181st species for the year coasted by and made a couple harassing dives towards the gulls. I didn't trust my camera at this distance, so I stayed on it to make sure I could get a good look at the coloring, especially the dark cap. 

Jaegers, comically, are a species I still haven't seen from King County! I try to make sure to find at least one or two new species each year in my home county. Once I've done that for the year, my chasing (especially into and through Seattle to Discovery Park) is kept to a minimum. For birds that come through in August and September, it just means that I'm usually content to let them pass through. Some year I'll add them! 

Red-necked Grebe - nice August surprise

Then I got the real boobie prize for the day. See. . . I'd had my heart set on setting up a little cruise off of the coast to look for Cassin's Auklets, Tufted Puffins, and other birds. It just didn't happen. A fishing charter was willing to do the trip during an evening, but they were extremely busy until late August, when chances for some of those birds would drop off. Cassin's Auklets, in particular, were my target, given the sheer numbers of them that nest in that area in summer! 

But I got one here! Marbled Murrelets and Rhinoceros Auklets had been flying past the point. In particular, as it moved into the evening hours, there was a big movement of Rhinos, with hundreds of them heading past. Marbled Murrelets also occasionally flew past - usually in pairs or threes, much smaller, and showing some warm brown tones. Then I got a little charcoal softball passing through my scope. I got on the bird and followed it, getting good enough lighting on it to feel good about size, shape, and coloring - Cassin's Auklet! (182). 

This was a bird that, with encouragement, I paused on for a while. Could it have been a juvenile Rhinoceros Auklet? The size and speed of the bird made that a fairly easy no. Could it have been a Marbled Murrelet? I looked harder on this one, trying to pull up images of any murrelets that might show the same coloring at all this time of year. Looking back through sightings during the last few weeks was also encouraging, and a fairly good birder from the area had two August sightings in recent years. 

Surf Scoters

Fun bird! I have a far better sighting from years back, when a bird landed on the deck of a cruise ship and scurried around looking quite confused. I'm sure I'll have better sightings in the future as well. But for the day, this was a nice find. 

Eating 

I finished my day with a meal at Tommyknockers. It somehow didn't sink in that they are almost entirely making Cornish pasties. I've not had one of those in my life, so when I ordered "bangers and mash" in a hurry as they neared closing, it hadn't quite sunk in that they would be taking some bangers, taking some mash, and wrapping it up into a little pocket. I'm not 100 percent on them still. That's a statement about pasties, not Tommyknockers! I think there was caraway in there? A seasoning I've just never warmed up to. But I was able to get a glass of wine from Marrowstone Vineyards, a Sangiovese that was absolutely delicious.

Getting Eaten

Uncas Road is one of those Barn Owl spots, so I thought I'd settle in and watch the sky darken, hoping to hear and/or see my first Barn Owl of the year. Oh boy. So many mosquitos. I got fairly well eaten alive. No Barn Owls, but it was fun getting to hear a Common Nighthawk pass overhead shortly after civil twilight had passed. 

I returned home over the Tacoma Narrows, and the person in front of me covered my toll. Not a bad day.