Written on May 04, 2024
It’s been a hell of a weekend in the desert. This good time consisted of driving hundreds of miles, seeing 108 species of birds, and tipping back a non-alcoholic beer each evening. I birded as hard as I could over the past three days, and I began to celebrate when I realized that I could cross the 200 species threshold while still early in spring migration. It’s one of the best starts I’ve ever had, and I’m 2/3 of the way to my 2024 goal of 300 species.
I have a weird work schedule; I work four 10 hour shifts, Sunday through Wednesday. On Wednesday night, I sat at 188 species for the year. I wanted to get to 200 before the yellow swarm of migrating warblers get here. Once they arrive, my birding is all about watching them. I become so transfixed by their bright gold plumages, that I hardly pay attention to any other birds between mid-May, and the first two weeks of June. Knowing that this was a weakness in my schedule, I wanted to get a little ahead.
I’d get a later start to my weekend, since Thursday morning, I had a birding errand to run. An errant Vermillion Flycatcher has been hanging out in Price, and I wanted to take a picture and get a sound recording for the historical record. This has to be the first one that’s ever been reported in the county. The furthest this species normally comes into the state is the far southwestern corner near St. George, Utah. I had already seen this individual last week, and took a truly dreadful picture. My goal was to get something that was better than a distant, fuzzy blob of bright red.
Before leaving my house, I filled and hung my hummingbird feeders from the awning over my back porch. Almost instantly, I had a female Black-chinned Hummingbird visit, which was the first of that species that I have seen this year. I watched for a little while, hoping that Bullock’s Orioles would come as well, but they weren’t as quick to the recently provided nectar. I shut the back door and left the house. When I was getting in my car, an Evening Grosbeak was calling from the ash trees out front, another new year bird.
I drove over to the local Department of Natural Resources office, where an employee had found the Vermillion Flycatcher last week. They reached out to me since I review all the eBird checklists in Carbon County, and let me know about the vagrant bird. It’s good that this guy showed up in a spot where someone could identify it.
A male Vermillion Flycatcher is one of the most striking red birds we have in the west, rivaled only by the Summer Tanager. They are more scarlet than vermillion, but they really only resemble a color you would see on a neon sign. To see one in Carbon County is a pleasure that I never knew I would have. The bird was in the same place I had left it the week before, and I while I watched, it flew in closer for a better photo than I had previously taken. It sang from the top of a Siberian elm, looking to impress a mate that will likely never arrive. After watching for a moment, I left it alone, not wanting to further stress a bird that is very lost.
Afterwards, I drove out to Desert Lake in Emery County to look for shorebirds. I parked outside a gate that led to a mudflat, where I knew I could find a few species probing for insects. The gate had a sign that said “closed before September.” I figured they were trying to keep people out during the breeding season, which hadn’t quite started, and I sarcastically thought “every month is before September except for September.” When I got to the mudflat, I saw American Avocets, Marbled Godwits, and a group of Long-billed Dowitchers. As I was looking through my scope, I heard the low snarl of an off-highway vehicle. I turned around and saw a utility side by side approaching. The man driving was wearing the khaki uniform of the Utah Department of Natural Resources. I felt like a dumbass because more than just breaking a rule, I was likely disturbing birds by getting too close. This is one of the last things I want to do.
The man walked up to me and said “unfortunately, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” He seemed friendly, and we spoke about places within the wildlife management area where I could do some birding. They have three blinds set up, which are on hillsides that overlook various sections of water. These are very far away from the birds, which is the point, but they would have to do. I apologized, and walked back to my car. I drove the dusty road to the southeastern blind, which overlooks the main lake, and is my favorite spot to watch.
From the hilltop, I was able to find a new year bird. A Black-bellied Plover was picking through grasses at the edge of a mudflat. Although it was a quarter mile away, I was able to ID it in my scope. As I was watching, it flew, showing its black armpits, which are diagnostic for the species. Spotting this bird made me feel much better about getting kicked out, and I realized that I could see enough from a respectful distance. I saw great birds at Desert Lake, and was reminded that one of my main goals when birding, is to do no harm. I had 39 species on this checklist, which brought me up to 66 in the first two days of May, and 193 on the year.
After Desert Lake, I drove over to Huntington North Reservoir. I walked the shore, seeing every single species of swallow that is possible in the state of Utah, and two shorebird species I didn’t have on my year list. I learned my lesson at Desert Lake, and stayed well away from a Canada Goose that appeared to be nesting near the shore of the reservoir; it started honking at me, so I turned around and walked far enough away that it settled back down atop its grassy nest. I glassed the water, and saw two Common Loons that hadn’t yet flown north to their breeding grounds. At Huntington North Reservoir, I saw 41 species, which brought my May total to 85, and my year list to 195.
When I got back to my car, I decided to call it a day. I wouldn’t get home until 3:30, and my dog was undoubtedly hungry for his lunch that he typically eats between 10-11 AM. I was so close to 200, but I’d have to try for that milestone the following morning.
On Friday, I was going to look for some easy species that I could add to my year list. Caspian Terns are always a given at Scofield Reservoir. Clarks Nutcrackers and Red Crossbills can be counted on in Price Canyon Recreation Area. Those three would bring me to 198, and if I could come across a couple wildcards, I’d be able to get to 200.
On my drive to Scofield, it started to snow. I worried that the weather would make it hard to see some of the birds I was after. When I turned off Highway 6 towards the reservoir, the snow stopped, and as I approached, the sky cleared. The north end of the lake was full of Franklin’s Gulls. This is a noisy species of bird that sound like a gull with a head cold. Thousands of nasally cries filled the air, and made things feel quite loud and chaotic. I saw a Lesser Yellowlegs along the shore, which is a great for Carbon County, although, not a year bird. I didn’t see Caspian Terns, so I’d drive to the south end, following the road that skirts the reservoir, and look for them along the way.
As I headed south along the eastern shore of the lake, I saw what I was looking for. Two Caspian Terns flew low over the water, close enough to the road that I could see their massive red bills. I could have turned around then since that’s all I was there for, but I thought that I would continue on to the far south end, where there is typically a high concentration of ducks.
When I arrived, there were thousands of Tree Swallows flying low over the water. As I looked at them without binoculars, I thought that they looked like a cloud of insects. The wind was beginning to pick up, which made the water choppy, and it was hard to identify any of the birds that were surfing the waves. I watched the swarm of swallows as they tried to fly into the wind. The stronger gusts brought the birds to a midair standstill, and they flapped frantically so they wouldn’t be carried off. I stayed a moment before heading back down the mountain towards Price Canyon. I looked at my list for Scofield Reservoir, and was surprised to see it at 51 species, which brought my month total to 101, and my year to 197. Two hundred would be well within reach. I just needed to get crossbills, a nutcracker, and one more surprise species.
The wind was really going at Price Canyon. The Clark’s Nutcrackers weren’t there, but I did hear a group of Red Crossbill flying over. The road had just reopened for the year, so I drove it to the top despite the lack of birds. The oak and aspen were only beginning to bud out since spring gets a later start at higher elevations. The new leaves were a fresh lime green color, and were still wrinkled from recently breaking out of their waxy buds. I parked my car at the campground at the end of the road, and realized how exhausted I was after two very long days of birding. This drive put me at 105 for the month, and 198 for the year.
When I got home, I knew that I’d want to take it easy on the last day of my three-day weekend. I’d rather casually bird, the next day, do a lot of resting, and not worry so much about a number. I stayed up late watching the Dodger game, and set my alarm a few hours later than I normally wake.
This morning, I was outside filling the backyard bird feeders. I heard the singsong melody of a Warbling Vireo coming from the ash trees in the front yard. This was species 199 for the year. I looked at the birdcast site and saw that 30,000 birds had crossed over Carbon County last night, so I knew that I could probably pick up a single species close to home. I grabbed my gear, and headed out to Farnham Road to look for an early warbler.
On my way there, I stopped by Knight Ideal pond. There were people fishing on the minute body of water, so any birds that were there had already been flushed off. I looked towards a racket that was coming from the power poles that run along the south edge of the property, and saw my 200th species of the year, a flock of Brown-headed Cowbirds. I held an internal celebration, and a slight smirk spread across my face. I had accomplished the lofty weekend goal I had set for myself, seeing 12 new birds, and getting to exactly 200 species.
It’s unfortunate that parasitic cowbirds are my 200th bird of the year, but I’m there. For good measure, I drove out to Farnham, and saw my 201st species, a House Wren. This is the best start I’ve had to a year since 2009. That being said, the easier part of it is over. Once you see all the common local birds, you have to grind out species one by one. I have some trips planned, where I can see new birds by the handful, but even then, the last 100 are going to be a lot of work.
I’m going to relax tonight, and maybe even have two non-alcoholic beers. I deserve a bit of a celebration after four months of hard work. If I’m going to get to 300, though, I will have to start doing some tedious birding next weekend. Wish me luck.
Carl, when I lived in Moab, one of my simple pleasures was to go out and try to hear evening primrose flowers open. They produce an audible "pop." We were successful quite a few times. Not as loud or as lovely as bird song but still a desert treat. Cheers, David
I didn't know about parasitic cowbirds. I have always believe that all animals have their place in the ecosystem for a reason. I wonder what the reason would be for these? Why call them cowbirds?