North Mason County - New lines and five new birds

I made arrangements for a sub to take my class so that I could stay home with my daughter, but she got the green light to go to school, so I took the morning to go explore the north part of the county for the morning and early afternoon.

Belfair State Park 

Dunlin in flight - Belfair State Park

This was my first stop, with the primary purpose of the trip being to look for the Marbled Godwit that had been sighted here earlier in the week.   I got out of the car and as I walked towards the car, heard Red Crossbills (79) flying overhead.  I drank in their call notes and swished them around over my aural memory and smiled "Type 3", I said quietly to myself, recognizing these as the subspecies that tend to feed in Western Hemlock.
Link to an eBird article on Red Crossbill types and calls

And here is where I have to explain for the first time in this blog what I think I explained several times in 39counties (www.39counties.blogspot.com):   My ears are pretty good.  By that, I mean I can hear a wide range of notes, can often hear them at a good distance, and do a pretty good job in terms of recognizing familiar and unfamiliar calls.  I haven't birded widely enough or for long enough to know some of the less common vocalizations of birds, or birds that are not common around here.

Now,  I only comment on my ears to highlight another fact.  For a birdwatcher... a birdWATCHER... I'm really quite poor at seeing birds.  I mean this in so many different ways:

1)  Upon hearing birds on field trips, other people often get on the bird.  "Oh there it is!"   What follows is often an awkward, extended effort to get me to see the bird.  It doesn't matter if it is the only bird on the only branch on a lone snag in the middle of an otherwise empty field.  My eyes have a way of filtering out the bird and replacing it with scenery.  

2)  Seeing a bird is not always a good thing for me because my understanding of field marks with many birds is horrid.  I really actually do bird with other people, and as they call out feathers, I ask with interest.  "Where's the petagial whatchahoozit you were talking about?"  "The books always talk about 'mirrors'... show me where those are."    I have had eureka moments where I have connected these words to the physical parts of birds.  I have on occasion even opened bird books and read about the field marks and made a mental note to remember where the lores are on a bird.  But something happens over time, and the information just floats away.  With close birding friends, I will often let them know that they are over my head by talking about the tertials on a bird we are discussing.

3)  Everything else.   By which I mean, for example:  Purple finches don't look that purple to me, which drives people crazy when they are pointing at one and fawning at its gorgeous hue.  Someone once pointed out that a bird we had both seen "Didn't fly like a falcon", and I asked what falcons look like when they fly, exactly.  He got even more agitated than the purple finch people. 

House on the left, Purple on the right.  Not my pics.

Purple and House finch side by side from some fellow's flickr page

All of this becomes magnified when disaster strikes and I see (or think that I have seen) an unusual bird and have to report it on ebird.  "Hi!  I'm emailing on behalf of ebird to get more details on your (insert rare bird here)." the letter usually begins pleasantly.  "You gave absolutely no description of the bird!  could you please describe it and explain how you ruled out other possible species?"   It must be like pulling teeth for these folks.  I'm really going to try to get better at it this year...

Anyway, as I basked in the glory of my ears, I walked out towards the water where the godwit had been seen.  This bird is a code 5, meaning it has been recorded five or fewer times in the county, but this particular bird is almost certainly the same one that has been back for three winters in a row now.  What I know in my heart is that this bird HAD to be there on my big day, and went unnoticed.  The crossbills and the godwit side by side were the perfect snapshot of my skills and lack thereof. 

Dunlin like this much exposed mud



Marbled Godwit - note the diagnostic view of the tertials
(please read above before analyzing that statement)

It was a bit drizzly, but the tide was good - somewhere around a 10, and I felt like I was getting a good feel for what a good tide was at Belfair.  The hundreds of Dunlin were wheeling around the estuary again, and Hood Canal was full of the same suspects:  Common and Red-breasted Mergansers, Northern Pintails, Greater Scaup, Surf Scoters, hundreds of Brant, grebes, and gulls.  I scoped slowly up the far side of the emptying river, and eventually found the... well I won't bother trying to describe the color.  Are they brown?  golden?  buff?  See my notes above, but the Marbled Godwit (80) was there, bicolored bill easily seen.   I smiled at the success, knowing that each code 4-5 bird I find this year will make the whole endeavor much easier.


New lines

Bre and I had travelled to every county in the state together.  One of our first dates was a road trip to see seven lighthouses in a day.  We survived the road trip pretty well, and I traced our trip into my big Washington gazetteer.  I kept doing it, and it led to the question "What counties have we not been to?"  We found reasons to get to different counties, and eventually saw all of them together, tracing new lines on the map each time.  We still get excited when we hit new lines together. 

The county birding thing has taken me to a lot of little roads in all corners of the state, but I realized as I left Belfair State Park and took a left that I was driving on new lines. *tingle tingle*

New lines for today in purple

Wildberry Lake was my destination.  I had read a post from the loquacious Jeff Gibson on Tweeters about Gray Jay and Sooty Grouse being year round residents at this plateau above Hood Canal on the Tahuya Peninsula.   There may be easier opportunities to see these species later in the year, but I thought I'd at least scout it out and explore an area that was a little off the beaten path. 
The Tahuya Peninsula is the land that is being given a 'hug' by Hood Canal.  It has some State Forest Land, and seems to be the area that people return to each year in their desire to add Mountain Quail to their year list.   They don't seem to be very vocal until March, and are rarely out in the open, so I had no expectations of seeing any today.  As I drove Belfair-Tahuya Road, I passed a few lakes and gave three of them a good look.  No coots.  Just saying.



The big clear cut here is just west of Tahuya-Belfair Road, almost
to Tahuya.  The red pin is Wildberry Lake.

I got to the turn off for Wildberry Lake, and clearly did not follow the road far enough, in retrospect.  I saw from the satellite view of the area on my phone that there was a large open area to the south of the road, and decided to investigate.

This clear-cut was full of newly planted trees, and snipe!

Now, clear-cuts are supposed to make me tear up, I think.  I know that all of them must once have had enormous trees and very different ecosystems flourishing than what we have today.  Nonetheless, the different birds that show up in this kind of habitat makes it an interesting one for me.  I pulled into the clear cut and pulled into an open area in the middle of the random crisscrossing of dirt roads through the rolling bumps of the cut.


It was time to eat, so I pulled out my sandwich and walked.  A nearby crest seemed like a good spot  for viewing the area, and as I reached it, I flushed a Wilson's Snipe (81).  I was a little shocked, and decided to keep walking to the next crest, and as I did, I looked down to a little pond below.  "oh!"  I said, and my voice brought a dozen more snipe into the air, flying away to some puddle on the other side of the cut, I'm sure.  My little walk brought me back around to my car, with one more snipe flushing from another wet depression.   No Gray Jays or Grouse, but I know better where to look next time, and the time of day will certainly make a difference.

Tahuya

Western Hemlock - Tahuya Peninsula

I finally got to the Tahuya end of Belfair Tahuya Road.  This part of Hood Canal is much like the other side - lots of privately owned beaches, and peek-a-boo views of the water between the houses lining the fjord.  I made numerous stops, regrettably with a dead camera battery, finding Common and Red-throated Loons (but no Pacific), White-winged and Surf Scoters (but not Black), Horned, Red-necked and Western Grebe (but no eared), Pelagic and Double-crested Cormorants (but no Brandt's).   So... a lot of the birds I'd already seen, although many of the views were spectacular, especially for the Red-throated Loons and White-winged Scoters, which were quite close. in.  One more new bird came during this drive, with a pair of gorgeous Harlequin Ducks (82).

I made the quickest of stops at Theler before heading home and found an agitated flock of small songbirds, including a Hutton's Vireo (83), although I never happened upon the raptor or owl that surely was responsible.

That's all for now!