Ten Best Birds of 2017

This year was a pretty rocky one for me and many of my friends. For me, the highlights of this year were definitely those that involved being in the field and fleeing the national and international news, “real life” as some may call it. Whether out leading trips, taking walks alone, birding with friends and loved ones, or banding birds, there was always something to see and always a highlight. For the first time in many years, I didn’t get out of the country, but I made it to some brand new places, saw some incredible birds, and had some outstanding experiences and moments with birds and friends alike. Here are, in chronological order, my ten favorite birds and birding experiences of 2017.

1. In February, I was lucky enough to be on the BRANT Nature Tours crew that led field trips for the GBNA/QBNA meeting in Albuquerque, New Mexico. Being able to go home and spend some time with my ABQ family was a real treat, though my time there proved to be non-stop action with little time outside of scheduled events. It was a fabulously successful and fun three days of leading Albuquerque hotspot trips and spending time in some favorite old haunts like Embudito and Rinconada Canyons. I even had the opportunity to go to Otero Canyon and hike the loop up the Blue Ribbon Trail to the Rocky Road and made a pilgrimage to Marble Girl’s nest site, hallowed ground for my heart and mind. On my last morning in ABQ, after all of the festivities were over, Dave Krueper and I went hiking in the Sandia Mountains at a favorite little spot of mine. It was a crisp winter morning but the south Sandias were full of bird activity. My favorite “bird of the day” were the Red Crossbills that flew overhead, calling out, and requiring that we admire them. And so we did. Any day with crossbills is a good day because that usually means one has been to the mountains. And so I was, and so it was. 

Dave and me birding the south Sandia Mountains, New Mexico.

2. Not long after I got back from New Mexico, news broke that an Ivory Gull had been spotted in Flint, Michigan. Since I’m easily influenced and Ryan Jacob really likes gulls, we decided a chase was in order. Larry, Ryan, and I shot up to Flint to try for it. Unfortunately, while there were birders combing the entire Flint River corridor, the bird had not been found so far that morning. We decided to cruise up and down the river in search of open water and flocks of gulls. After a few cold and fruitless hours, we got word from Kim Kaufman that the bird had been relocated at the original site. We rocketed in that direction and spent a good hour or so watching the gull, photographing it, and sharing in the revelry with many other birders, lots of whom we knew. It was an Ivory Gull party like none other. On our way back home we went to a delicious crepe restaurant and coffeehouse and then all had of our lifer IKEA experience, which none of us could decide if we loved or hated. We could all agree that chasing the Ivory Gull was one heck of a great way to spend a cold March day!

Ivory Gull in Flint, Michigan on a cold winter day.

3. Toward the end of March, Larry and I finally got to fulfill a dream of mine when I took him to Hocking Hills for his first visit. He had never seen this part of Ohio and as we watched her begin to wake up from her winter slumber, I’d like to think Larry was pretty captivated by it. I know I was. We hiked Old Man’s Cave, Ash Cave, Conkle’s Hollow, and some trails at Zaleski State Forest over the course of a few days, looking for wildflowers and salamanders while photographing icicles and waterfalls that were just starting to break free. We stayed at a marvelous AirBnB cottage on a large property with hiking trails along a stream that butted up against state forest. We spent an afternoon hiking here and went as far as we could up a side stream until we found a series of little caves and a magical little waterfall that I crawled behind and sat under. I was in absolute awe. On the way back, I picked up some mylar balloons that had migrated downstream from somewhere unknown, we were determined to leave this place better than we found it. Right when we got to the spot in the stream where the water was crashing and bubbling the loudest, we started to hear other sounds of crashing and bubbling. A Winter Wren had decided that this little stream we were so enamored with was good enough for him to spend the season on. He was apparently taking as much joy in the moment of being on that stream as we were and was belting out his song to let everyone know. Or, he was merely doing what Winter Wrens do and was cruising a loud part of the stream with a voice that had to match it, just looking to survive the winter and make it back to the breeding grounds. In that moment though, the reason didn’t matter. All I knew was I was standing in a clear rushing stream in muck boots with cliffs, and moss, and icicles, and patches of snow all around, under a canopy of tall, tall trees and listening to the exaltations of a Winter Wren with the person I love most on this Earth. And it was glorious. 

Birding Old Man's Cave, Hocking Hills, Ohio.

4. In early April I headed to the Upper Texas Coast to spend a long weekend visiting Martin Hagne in Lake Jackson at Gulf Coast Bird Observatory and taking part in a Houston Audubon Society fundraising event with my very dear friends Laurel Ladwig, Karen Herzenberg, Nancy Cox, and Rich Gibbons. The fundraiser is an annual big sit that takes place at Katrina’s Corner in Smith Oaks Woods on High Island. Katrina was Laurel’s mother and was instrumental in the founding of Houston Audubon Society and was an active member for many years. The big sit is a way of commemorating her as well as a way to do something positive for conservation, something Laurel knows her mother would have loved. I managed to snag a couple lifers on this trip (Nelson’s Sparrow and [finally] Seaside Sparrow), Martin drove us into a ditch when we spotted a late Northern Gannet flyover (it was okay, we were in Martin’s Tacoma so we just drove right out of the ditch), and we had an insane showing of Piping Plover, Wilson’s Plover, and Snowy Plover on the beach at Bolivar Flats (in addition to finding not one but TWO Long-tailed Ducks), but the bird of the trip for me was the Barn Owl that flew directly over Katrina’s Corner while we sat on the benches watching the drip. Or no, maybe it was the Hooded Warbler that came in to the drip when it was almost too dark to see. Or it could have been the Snowy Egrets making their low guttural giggles and chuckles at the rookery nearby. It turns out that this experience was all about the experience. I was deeply honored to be able to be on the team for the big sit and loved every minute of the camaraderie and friendship of that weekend. One of my favorite birding experiences of the year. 

Rich Gibbons had the real elevated perch in this photo snapped during our big sit at Katrina's Corner in April, High Island, Texas.

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5. During the month of May, there’s only one thing on my mind: migration. I can’t travel during migration and really I wouldn’t want to anyway. Witnessing migration and studying it intently at two sites (the Navarre Marsh, where we conduct our migration banding efforts, and my own backyard) is an incredible privilege and endlessly fascinating. Once the Biggest Week in American Birding is over (one of the largest birding festivals in the U.S., which is put on by Black Swamp Bird Observatory), we don’t even come close to slowing down. In fact, the week after the Biggest Week was even bigger than the Biggest Week in terms of bird numbers. We banded an insane number of birds, adding a significant chunk of data to our already vast dataset, but not all of the great bird sightings were of birds in the hand or even birds at the station. I got word that several people had seen Connecticut Warbler on the famed Magee Marsh boardwalk. This had long been a blank spot on Larry’s lifelist as he was just never in the right place at the right time to even attempt to see this hard-to-find bird. So we headed up to the boardwalk to try and sneak a peek. After birding for a while but not finding a Connecticut, we decided to make our way back home for lunch. On our way out though, we bumped into Chris Brown who had news of a recent sighting just a little ways back on the boards, so we headed back in. We pretty quickly found the bird and got some nice looks at it. High fives all the way around the horn and a black space filled on Larry’s checklist. It was a fabulous moment! But then, just two days later, Larry and I were birding the yard on an extremely productive migration day. I thought I heard a familiar syncopated rhythm on our way out to the back, but I didn’t hear it again and I chalked it up to wishful thinking. On our way back though, while on the far side of the thicket, I heard it again and I knew I wasn’t imagining things this time. I yelled to Larry and we took off running in the direction of the caller, a dapper male Connecticut Warbler waltzing through the forbs and belting out his best Devo: “Whip it up! Whip it good!” We spent two hours out there just listening to that bird singing and enjoying every minute of it. 

Not the same Connecticut Warbler from our yard, but one I banded in the Navarre Marsh just a few days before one showed up at home, Oak Harbor, Ohio.

6. After the banding season wrapped up in June, Larry and I embarked upon a trip that had been a long time coming for us. We went to visit our dear friend Pat Folsom in Vermont. I was so excited to visit a new state, finally see the Green Mountains, indulge in all things maple, and of course, spend almost a whole week with Pat in her neck of the woods. We started the trip off with a visit to my Aunt and Uncle’s house in Jamestown, New York and a quick outing to the Roger Tory Peterson Institute, an incredible establishment. After spending a few days birding the bogs up in the Northeast Kingdom of Vermont (which even included a 10 minute trip to New Hampshire where we could do a quick eBird checklist because “it doesn’t count if you don’t eBird there”), we headed back to Pat’s part of the state. We had all been eagerly awaiting our trip up Mt. Mansfield, the highest mountain in Vermont. Pat had arranged with Chris from Vermont Center for Ecostudies for us to join their banding crew on one of their overnight trips. That evening, I heard a Bicknell’s Thrush for the first time ever and almost crumbled to the ground in awe. Thrushes will never cease to amaze me with the sounds that they make, especially the Catharus thrushes. But it’s not just about the voice and the sound. It’s also about the smell of the forest, and the touch of mist on your face. It’s the background “tick, tick, tick”ing of Blackpoll Warblers and the round-topped mountain covered in krumholz habitat so thick and dense it might as well be a jungle. We spent the night in sleeping bags on the floor of the ski patrol headquarters and even though I was totally whipped, I woke up right at the break of day, unable to contain my excitement any longer. Ali Wagner and I hiked up to the top of the mountain from the ski patrol hut, birding our way up in the morning light. We banded Bicknell’s Thrushes and Blackpoll Warblers, heard more of each, and fulfilled a wish we had all made together years before. It was easily one of the best moments of 2017. 

Captivated by the sounds of Bicknell's Thrush on Mt. Mansfield, Vermont.

7. In July, I was once again lucky enough to be invited to be an instructor for Camp Colorado, one of the American Birding Association’s Young Birders camps. A week in the mountains with the nation’s finest young birders is something that absolutely feeds my soul and while my feet prefer to tread on rocky, uneven ground, our day in the lowlands at the Pawnee National Grasslands is always one of the highlights of the week. If my bird of the day could have been pronghorn (Antilocapra americana), it would be, but in keeping of the theme of things with feathers, we were all flabbergasted to discover an Upland Sandpiper sitting on a fencepost on the side of the highway in mid-afternoon. David La Puma and Jennie Duberstein expertly (and safely) whipped the vans around and got every person point-blank, jaw-dropping stares at this Uppie, who obliged us nicely and sat for photos. It was a first for the Camp Colorado list and even though I had seen Uppies when I was in Texas in April, this one was a far sweeter treat for all of us. It was one of those purely serendipitous birding moments and we all got to share it together. 

Camp Colorado birding the Pawnee National Grasslands, Colorado.

8. On the heels of Camp Colorado, I flew straight from Denver to El Paso to head down to the Davis Mountains to study hummingbird banding with Kelly Bryan. I had been to the Davis Mountains before and had been in awe of their beauty, but I was unprepared for what Kelly had in store for us. The guest cabin we were staying in was simply stunning, with a big front porch that overlooked the canyon below. I laid on my yoga mat on that porch crying at the sheer beauty of those mountains and that scene. In that moment the Davis Mountains got inside of my heart and I’ve been thinking of them ever since. After four days of hummingbird banding, including the first time I’ve had the chance to see a Rivoli’s Hummingbird in the hand; one of the best hikes of the year, up to see the wreckage from a small plane that crashed decades ago and then onto the ridge above for amazing vista landscapes; and the telling of a great many tall tales of birding adventures with kindred spirits, our time at Kelly’s was over. Annie Crary, Ryan Jacob, and I headed back toward El Paso for our flight the next day. We birded our way through the mountains… well, Annie and I birded, while Ryan looked for dragonflies (joking, but also kinda not). With Ryan driving and me in the front passenger seat, I caught a glimpse of a shadow above. “TV.” Ryan said. To which I replied “Uh, dude. I don’t think so.” We rounded a curve in the road, pulled off the side, and all jumped out simultaneously, perfectly synchronized to watch a Zone-tailed Hawk cruise over the ridge and right over us, point-blank, and oh, so beautiful. Sometimes when you’re birding, you have these moments that you couldn’t have scripted if you wanted to. Perfect moments. This was one of those. 

Our cabin in the Davis Mountains, Texas.

 9. I love having a late summer birthday and one that coincides with fall migration. While most people like to take off of work on their birthday, I have banded on nearly all of my birthdays for the last dozen years. It’s a privilege to get to spend my birthday doing what I love to do, even if it does mean I need to wake up pretty darn early do to it. This year, I had just a taste of banding when I went into the marsh to start the day, then left when the reinforcements got there. During the time I was at the station though, I watched the sunrise and had the opportunity to band one of my all-time favorite birds, a Wood Thrush. It was a spectacular migration day and as soon as I got home, I called Larry out into the yard so we could survey the birds that had come into our woods and thicket overnight. I heard a Yellow-billed Cuckoo and called it out. Staying vigilant, Larry and I twice watched it fly across our yard between large trees. We had gorgeous views of it in flight as well as foraging in the trees in our front yard. It was a new yard bird for us and an exciting find! Nature gives the best birthday presents. 

The Wood Thrush I banded on my birthday. Navarre Marsh, Ottawa NWR, OH.

10. In November, I migrated back to the southwest to again lead trips for my best buds at BRANT. This time it was for the Festival of the Cranes, a fest I’ve been involved with as a bander for Rio Grande Bird Research and field trip leader with BRANT for eleven years. On the second day of the festival, I got to lead an owl trip with Michael Hilchey, seemingly an annual tradition. Michael and I have led a lot of owl trips together over the years and I’m always in awe of just how good he is at these trips in particular. Over the course of a few minutes, he called a Western Screech-Owl in (by voice, as usual) for our group of 20. We knew the owl was close, Michael leaned over to me and directed me to hit my light when he hit his, and there it was! Michael picked out the owl, right out in the open on a perch so obvious that not a single person in the group needed directions to find it. We all just stood in silence, staring. After just a brief period of illumination, we turned off the light and quietly walked away leaving this marvelous little predator to its business.

Our Western Screech-Owl

The first time I ever went to the tropics, I was with Michael in Costa Rica, he was a teenager and I was still in my 20’s. We were birding a road together in the cloud forest of the Talamanca Cordillera where we encountered a particularly spririted mixed flock of neotropical migrants and highland resident species. I followed their scolds to a Costa Rican Pygmy Owl, a fine find and a great memory. Any time I get to see an owl while standing next to one of my best friends instantly goes on the lifetime highlight reel.

Thanks for reading along and taking a virtual trip through some of my top highlights of 2017. For those of us who love birds and nature, this year was challenging in so many ways as we see our country headed in the wrong direction when it comes to the environment, conservation, public lands protections, and sustainability. Our collective anxiety over how much worse things might get in 2018 is palpable. In light of this, taking a trip down memory lane to highlight the best moments of the year and focus on those memories that feed our souls and motivate us to spend another year fighting for the Earth and her inhabitants is an essential task. Whenever I’m feeling particularly down, I look back on posts like this and think of all of the marvelous gifts I receive each day from nature, especially the birds. They keep me going through the darkest moments and remind me of what I have dedicated my life to protecting.  

Happy New Year. Peace, Love, Earth.