Every once in a while we must make a sacrifice as a birder. We may sacrifice a day of birding to visit family, a dentist appointment, sometimes even work.
But there are other kinds of sacrifices in birding. For example, sacrificing a species you are aiming to see to help boost a fellow birder's year list. This is exactly the friendly (awkward) discussion Mark Field and I had a few weeks ago while planning a day of birding around some of the birds that were being reported on eBird.
See, I wanted to go to Presqu'ile bright and early to search for the Barrow's Goldeneye that sets up shop there year after year. Then, on the drive back, we could stop at various locations for Cackling Goose.
Mark had other interesting plans. In his scenario, he saw a trip to Niagara, starting with Fish Crow, catching some gulls at Adam Beck (Thayer's, Iceland, California (which I had previously tried for and missed (twice))), waiting for the Black Vultures to fly to the Canadian side of the river at Queenston Heights, and getting King Eider at LaSalle Marina in Hamilton.
We weighed our options, which is to say Mark listed the few species that we could still get for my own year list while at the same time adding many to his. Although I swear on my Sibley guide that I genuinely wanted him to share the enjoyment of all these wonderful species I had already seen in Niagara earlier this year on multiple occasions, California Gull was the clincher.
We agreed on Niagara. Well, leave it to me to accept his offer and then find a way to screw it up for him anyway...but let’s leave that for later.
We started in Burlington at the Lift Bridge. We thought we might get lucky and see all 3 scoter species in one go. We saw one of the resident Peregrine Falcons fairly quickly and started scanning the ducks. White-winged Scoters were EVERYWHERE. This was a good sign. We scanned and we scanned. All White-winged. We tried our luck at Spencer Smith Park and got 4 Surf Scoters (my first of year).
I wanted Black Scoter badly, which is why we didn't see one. We did see an all-black duck in a large flock of White-winged Scoters but it was just too far out to definitively say it was a Black and not a Surf. Thoughts of California Gull started to cloud my brain.
On to Fort Erie. Whereas the first time I got the Fish Crows in Fort Erie, Matt Timpf and I merely had to pull up to the first parking lot we saw and look up, this time we had to work for them since Mark was there. Hands cupped by our ears and heads craned out our windows, we drove back and forth on residential streets for so long that the local police department was starting to get concerned phone calls. Finally Mark saw a suspicious-looking crow in a front lawn but it flew just as I jammed on the gas to get as close as I could to the bird. Backing away from the smashed front porch, we drove after the rascal. Mark begged me to stop taking out lawn gnomes but we just needed to hear this bird and then we could get to the California Gull already. Sure enough, the crow called and Mark was right. Mark looked over. "Awesome, my first Ontario Fi...", but I never heard the rest as he was drowned out by the roar of the engine. We were headed to Adam Beck.
On our way, we flirted with the idea of trying for Tufted Titmouse on Dufferin Islands but with hours already running out in the day, we decided it best to just get the California Gull out of the way so we could get to the Black Vulture spot and then finish with great looks at King Eider.
And that is when things started to go wrong. We arrived at Adam Beck, expecting to look down and immediately see the California Gull on its favourite rock fly up in the air, swoop on over to the Ontario side of the river, then glide back to its favourite rock again for our viewing and ticking pleasure. This would all happen before we even had our tripod legs extended and we could hop back into the car and go for all the rest of the birds Mark needed for his year list.
It started off hopeful. We thought we had a California based on the extent of black on the primaries of a bird we had in flight until we realized that there were 2 or possibly 3 of them. Then we figured out we were looking at second winter Ring-billed Gulls. An hour passed. We continued to search. Another hour passed. We continued to search. I discovered a gray hair. We continued to search. We were now into tomorrow. I continued to search.
Desperation sunk in and I became delusional. Our remaining conversation went something like this:
Me, excited: “Ok, I think I’ve got it.”
Mark, gently, “mmm, that’s a Herring Gull. It does have a black spot on its bill though.”
“Yeah, you’re right…but if I could just turn its legs yellow. Hmmmpphhhhhhhhh.”
“You’re physically trying to change its legs yellow?”
“Yes. Just you watch….hmmmmmpphhhh.”
“………………………”
“Ok, how about this one?”
“That’s just a Ring-billed Gull. It’s the same size as all the other Ring-billed Gulls around it.”
“And this one…?”
Mark placed his hand gently on my shoulder, “That’s a stone.”
“Ah.”
“Perhaps we should go.”
“Ok…..hmmmmmpphhhhhhhhhhhhh.”
I’m sure that the entire time in Mark’s head, he was cursing me for spending so much darn time scanning the same birds over and over again for California Gull. In his head, he was thinking about the Black Vultures, the King Eider, the other great species we could be seeing if I wasn’t such an idiot. Ok, that’s a lie…he more likely just felt pity for me and was considering a therapist referral.
I guess I should write something remotely positive in this post. We did end the day with a fleeting glimpse of Short-eared Owl on the drive home where something like 100 individuals had been reported the day before. To blatantly steal a line from Hugh Currie in Richard Pope’s big year book, ‘it’s a tick!’
Now, hopefully, Mark knows me well enough to know that this post is purely in jest. The reality is I have a great time birding with him, and missing a year bird, no matter what the species, will ever change that.
Unless of course that species is a Smew.
