In a recent trip, I ran off to Jefferson County for a single day, hoping to find some shorebirds that had been showing up. Dashing out for a single day, regardless of the number of birds on my needs lists, really did not do the trick. I missed good tides, ended up in the wrong places at the wrong times, and didn't really have a chance to get to places in different tide conditions. So, I did pick up some birds, but not as many as a dedicated run would normally produce.
So, I kept an eye on my schedule, got the oil changed in the car, and had couple of nice writing project offers to help justify a hotel stay in Port Townsend. On the 8th, I set out for Kitsap. A little late in the day, but with plans to stay a night.
141 species for the year in Kitsap. There seem to still be a lot that should be findable by year's end, helping me to get to 150. I've been taking some comfort in ones that (difficult or not) are at least around all year - American Dipper, Great Horned Owl, California Quail, Mountain Quail, Red-breasted Sapsucker. . . these might be targets of some more focused efforts as the year wraps up. So, for today, I decided to go after a more unusual bird that had been seen nearly daily. A Great Egret.
, you may remember that Great Egrets were kind of the running joke. Listed as a rare bird, but fairly common (this due to a recently increased expansion of their range to the north) in the southwest corner of the state, I'd make a good fuss any time I came across one (to the chagrin/groans of all local birders). Up in Kitsap, it's fair to say that they are unusual and increasing. So, it was still exciting to see one show up on the needs alert, if not a huge surprise.
On the way, I couldn't resist stopping at Sinclair Inlet at Gorst. It's right off the road, and it's got shorebirds, and it's September. Never mind that very few rarities show up here. I'd still picked up 8 species over the course of the year that added to the year list, and the time commitment was ostensibly small.
Nothing unusual showed up on this particular day. One of the first birds I saw was a Greater Yellowlegs - not a surprise, as I've seen them on nearly every stop here. The surprise came in terms of number and clumping, with ten of them clustered together nearby in this little estuary. Least Sandpipers and maybe some Westerns were out at a distance, but none of the shorebirds looked like they needed a really close second look.
Other than that, there were Red Crossbills (seemingly regular here), a Eurasian-Collared Dove (both Band-tailed Pigeon and Rock Pigeon have also been common), and a lot of gulls - from Short-billed and California to Glaucous-winged, and the whole range of hybrids they make with Western Gulls. There was no shortage of Caspian Terns either, the raspy black-capped cousins of gulls still camped out on the mud. None seemed notably smaller, so I didn't suspect there were any Common Terns mixed in.
It's such a small thing, but I let myself feel clever that I could even find a place to park and tromp down to the mud. It had already been a little tucked away behind a Subaru Dealership - one of like... seven turns that can be taken off of a busy highway right at a point where it connects to several other busy highways. Add to that... there's construction! This stop has essentially become Platform 9 3/4.
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Good Blue Heron headed
for a tree on the far side |
I got back onto that busy highway (somehow without ever dying, or even eliciting an angry honk), and popped Keyport into my GPS.
I got to Keyport Saltwater Park and saw a lot of not much. Every report had hinted that the Great Egret was on the far side of the bay, opposite from the most convenient viewing, but there wasn't a big white bird anywhere that I could see. Boo! It would just make sense (to any birder) that the rare bird hung around until the exact moment that I tried to find it.
I thought about heading up to Peninsula no Peninsula - the not really named peninsula that holds some amazing birding spots such as Point no Point, Foulweather Bluff, Driftwood Key, and George's place. But I really did want to give Jefferson County a fair shake (at the continued expense of Kitsap). 150 should be doable, right (I say, inviting the wrath of the Jinx Gods)? And with a Jefferson list at 183, my goal of 200 species would be well out of reach unless I made a little headway.
Jefferson County
200? I'd worked through lists before the year even started, and I just figured that 190 something would be my final tally for the year. And honestly, folks, I still really think that. But I kept running through it in my head, counting unhatched chickens in different ways that might add up to just a few more birds. I'm not 100% convinced I won't hit that goal, but I'm 100% convinced that I should spend each trip believing it and birding accordingly.
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| The Usual Suspects - California Gull and Greater Yellowlegs - Oak Bay |
This in mind, I made a stop at Oak Bay County Park - somewhere I'm assuming is going to bring me a Common Tern, a Great Egret, a phalarope of some sort, or a Semipalmated Sandpiper. Instead, I got nothing new! Common for this time of year. I could have beelined it to Fort Flagler from there, but. . . these years are also about the little distractions along the way. I instead made a beeline for Marrowstone Vineyards.
I'd driven past this spot a few times, but never stopped in. It was Sunday afternoon, so I figured they'd be open for tastings.
This winery was (surprisingly to me) kind of hopping! There were a dozen or two people scattered around the grounds on a lovely day. And. . . Marrowstone Island is *not* on the way to anything. I couldn't quite figure out how so much traffic had brought people to this spot on the outskirts of Nordland.
The vineyard does tastings the way many of them do it these days: $x for a tasting, waived if you get y bottles, or spend $z. I spent my x, and got to try four pours - all of them were great, (Sauv Blanc, Rose, Cab Sauv, and a red blend) and I got to enjoy them with a peekaboo view of Hood Canal across the landscaped grounds.
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| Nobody under cover on this sunny day - covered seating at Marrowstone Vineyards |
In this scenario, y=2. I got a bottle for me, and one for my ex. Our daughter is off to college in not too many days, and I thought she'd need it to celebrate the empty nest, or to mourn the loss. Likely both. It's a long run, and to anyone reading this who has the joy of waking up to noise in the house from a son or daughter each morning - cherish that stuff.
Fort Flagler
Oh boy. So many shorebirds. There may have been other birds! But this was all pretty distracting. The first ones I saw went unidentified at first - a big mess of shorebirds whirling overhead, circling, and landing farther down the spit. I continued along the spit, and finally came to them. Black-bellied Plovers! There were dozens of them in all kinds of plumage situations - juvenile, adult breeding, adult winter, adult messy. I did my due diligence looking them over for American and Pacific Golden-Plovers, but . . . let's be clear. . . I've never seen one in my life, so it was a bit of a scramble trying to figure out which features to focus on.
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| Black-bellied Plover flock |
And isn't that always it? Not like "it will be pure black, instead of brown", but something like. . . .
"there will be four primary feathers extending beyond the tail feathers." Ha! I exaggerate there, but could you imagine if we had to just know to look for random things like th... oh. . . my apologies. That *is* the kind of thing I needed to be looking for.
To be fair, there are some things that set golden plovers apart before even getting into the feather-counting business. They've got... some gold somewhere, but also less chonky bills and a larger head-to-eye ratio, giving them a more dove-like appearance. All that aside, I was just taking a lot of pictures of any plover that looked significantly different from the ones around it. I don't think any jumped out as worth investigating in the end, but I was definitely amazed by the range in plumage for the Black-bellies.
OH and also, there were three Short-billed Dowitchers in attendance. Species 184 for the year!
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| One more new species! |
I returned to my car, briefly stopping to take a look at some Western Sandpipers that seemed happy to poke around the shore right near my feet.
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Quick stop at Oak Bay
More Oystercatchers than I've seen in one spot |
I stopped at Oak Bay on the way back, finding nothing new, really. There were a lot of gulls in the area, but nothing looked like a Herring Gull, about the only species I was missing for the year. Five Black Oystercatchers were on the shore near a pile of gulls out by the water.
It was getting close to sunset, and I figured I should get some food in me before heading off to find a hotel (or, perhaps, a Barn Owl.) The Ajax Cafe was pretty close, and was apparently under new ownership? Not something I'd read up on but had heard from someone on my last trip to Quilbillies in Quilcene - that the owners of the latter establishment had purchased the former.
Again, this place was hopping. As I came in, I was asked if I was okay with a community table. (!) I agreed to it, loving the idea of a little crapshoot. After about ten minutes, I got seated at a table with a couple of older women from the area who were just finishing their entrees - one sporting a pair of campaign buttons, one for Kennedy, and one for Trump.
We talked a little about the food, and one of them asked about my t-shirt, which read "spread the word to end the word". I explained it was intended to raise awareness about the use of the word retarded. And dear reader. . . I know. There's an awful lot of words that people "can't use" anymore. For some people who just grew up using them, it can feel like a strain.
It's an interesting term. . . perhaps one that started as a clinical term of sorts, but one that came to be used for any people/things/ideas deemed to be of lower value. "You're so retarded." And I really do try to honor ideas around usage. "Imma" and "literally" are, good gosh, probably here to stay. But in this case, the term is tricky because it implies that the group of people referenced here, mentally retarded people, are being used as a prime example of people who are of lower value.
And I'll tell you, having had the chance for just over five years to be the parent of a child with Williams Syndrome, this may be an inaccuracy. There are things, to be clear, that my son, Kieran Timothy, was not able to do, did at a delay, or did not do as well as kids his age. But this kid, and nearly anyone I've ever met with these kinds of delays, have consistently been very bad at one skill: Being a jerk. And given how good people in the world today can sometimes be at being jerks. . . I'm not convinced that this is a bad skill to be missing. A genetic disposition to be kinder to others is something I'm pretty down with.
In that spirit, I try not to be a jerk to people when they use it. I try. For people I know a little better, I'll challenge it, usually from the lack-of-linguistic-creativity angle. On this particular evening, I just explained what the shirt was for.
"Language has changed SO much!" Buttons added. "Like. . . Rabbit-hole. Have you noticed that everyone uses "rabbit-hole" more often these days?" For a term that had been around since 1865, I balked at this claim at first, but. . . to be fair, all but thirty or so of those intervening years had been spent without the Internet. The rabbit-holes are deeper!
As we talked, one more person joined us - a young man from Colorado, in the area to help his wife's extended family with a pretty significant house-cleaning project. Between the four of us, and our waiter, it was fascinating to find all of the different connections between different pairs of people at the table - love of wine, horse-back riding, two of them had been living in the same town in Utah at the same time. . . I love chances to see the world shrink. For my part, I was shocked to find not only that Colorado guy had a close family friend with Williams Syndrome, but he grew up in a small town in Nebraska, not far from my ex-wife's extended family.
Speaking of rabbit-holes, this counted. The sun dropped in the sky. Drinks and desserts were had. Buttons and her friend eventually wrapped up and departed. I was a little worried about securing a hotel room, and perhaps seeing a Barn Owl, but . . . this is a big reason why I come out on these trips. Birds, yeah, but I meet interesting people when I travel. In the end, I got an address texted to me for a home out on Toandos Peninsula, one of the few places in Jefferson County I'd left unexplored. There was an invitation to stop by and take a look at the water from the neighbor's beach. "They're not around, but we can use their beach any time."
Great evening. Overpriced? Heavens yes. Now. . . if you wanted seared Ahi, or other dishes of that caliber while out in the area, this is your place. It hurts my soul a little that so much *other* amazing seafood is all around them, and they are using fish from some other distant place, but hey. . . if you're looking for that kind of upscale, this is a great place. The setting is gorgeous, the food is done well, and the service is great.
Port Town$end
Fun fact. The Wooden Boat Festival took place during the weekend of my visit. By timing things so that I got into town late Sunday, I was able to avoid enjoying any aspect of the festival while still making sure I could pay the festival weekend prices for a hotel room. I can't say the number. It would hurt my soul too much. The nice young man at the desk apologized for the price eleven times during check-in, despite my assurances that I was fine.
I scanned through eBird reports, noting that the egret in Kitsap had been seen just shortly before I arrived, but had been chased off by a Great Blue Heron. The same heron I saw flying into a tree on this little bay? Perhaps!
I mapped out the next day, and hit the hay, trying to feel as pampered as possible.
