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Last night I went to bed one short of my goal of “Ten in Texas” that I need to reach my year-end goal. But as I mentioned yesterday, two birds were in my neighborhood and that I had time to search for them in the morning.

After our field trips yesterday, Joy and I followed up on a tip from my guide that there were Green Parakeets at the Quality Inn, a block from my hotel. We checked it out but it was pretty dark by then and we didn’t see any parakeets. After another great meal with Robert and Kara we all called it a night.

This morning I walked over to the Quality Inn to try for the parakeet first, since they disperse soon after waking up. I thought it was already too late at nearly 7 o’clock. Finding nothing, I worked my way back to my hotel until I heard parakeets squawking on the other side of Highway 77/83. I ran over to get a closer look before they disappeared and there in the tall palms were about 16 Green Parakeets (549), glittering green from head to toe. In just a few minutes another flock of two dozen flew overhead, and then my flock took off. Got there just in time. There, I now have my 10 new species after all but I have one more to look for. I checked a row of tall palms in the parking lot, listening for a loud chip call. Adjacent to my hotel I heard a bird calling in a short deciduous tree. As it approached all I could see was drab black and white coloring until it turned to face me – a brilliant yellow throat! Yellow-throated Warbler (550), a bird I missed in the South, one I searched for desperately this week, and now one was only feet away. It’s not rare, I’ve seen them before, but it was a goal realized. Later, back at the hotel, while I was waiting poolside for the airport shuttle (the drivers know where the airport is), a Yellow-throated Warbler landed on a chair just feet from me, as if to ask if I was satisfied now. I am. I got not ten but eleven in Texas, putting me up by one but I’ll need the cushion, easy birds can be missed.

Both flights departed and arrived on time or early. On the Tucson flight I was seated next to a six month old girl, who was so cute with her blue eyes and blonde hair. But this cuteness on a plane only lasts for about ten minutes before there is squirming, crying, spilling, and fussing. After a short while, like B.B. King sang, the thrill is gone.

Today the Groundhog went away and I got a ride to the convention center without incident. Probably because I think I had the same driver as yesterday and he remembered the way. This routine was putting me in a foul mood for awhile there, leaving me feeling like this:

Today’s field trip was the Big Day van, a Big Day within a Big Year, I wonder if this has ever been done before. I didn’t know what to expect or where we would go. First stop was Estero Llano Grande State Park, where Yellow-throated Warbler has been seen, but we didn’t see one, while other groups there did. We got a good close look at one of my favorite birds of this area – Common Pauraque, day roosting on the ground.

From there we headed to the coast, with a stop at the Zapata Boat Ramp like yesterday. Again, the birders already there told us that American Oystercatcher was there but just flew off. But after a careful scan we relocated two of them resting on a mud flat (548). That’s nine for the trip, I just need one more to reach my goal of ten for the trip. A small patch of mangrove adjacent to the parking lot housed a Clapper Rail. One birder said he just heard it but I didn’t get anything. While my teammates scanned the bay, I kept focused on the mangrove. But nothing, no sight, no sound. Time to go. As the van pulled out, a quiet voice from a young lady in the back called out: “Clapper Rail.” We screeched to a stop, backed up, and looked. I saw some legs, or a shadow, or a blur move past the base of a small bush, that’s the bird, but as I got my binoculars up, it vanished the way rails do. How close! It slipped right through my fingers! I felt like Bill Buckner.

We finished up at South Padre Island where we thought we had a perched Brown Booby with its head tucked in but careful scrutiny confirmed it was a young pelican. No rails could be found on the boardwalk, no new warblers were in the trees, so I ended the day with nine new species for the trip. Our team tallied more than 160 species but not enough for even honorable mention. I don’t fly out tomorrow until noon, so early in the morning I will take one more look around the neighborhood for Green Parakeet and Yellow-throated Warbler. Even without one, I’m declaring the trip a success, I had a great time, and I can’t wait for my next trip to “the valley.”

More Groundhog Day today. I asked my driver point blank if he knew where the convention center was. Yes, he certainly did, he assured me. After two minutes he turned left instead of right and I barked out: “Wrong convention center!” We then found our way.

On our first stop along Aplomado Alley we found an Aplomado Falcon but it flew before I could get a good look. We made a few more stops and I got a distant but diagnostic photograph (544) (ABA 649):

I was assured by Michael Retter, one of our guides, who works for the ABA, that these birds are ABA-countable. One of the day’s best stops was at Zapata boat ramp on Rt 48. Among the many resting Laughing Gulls we found a few Franklin’s Gulls (545), along with a few Wilson’s Plovers (546) and some Dunlin (547). I now had 8 new species in Texas, needing just two more. After the field trip, Joy and I went over to South Padre Island. We searched hard for Clapper Rail at the birding center but last night the cold snap from up north hit, dropping 80 degree temperatures down to 50 with howling winds. No Clapper Rails were budging. Among the passerines near the building we looked for Yellow-throated Warbler without luck. At another place on the island we found this exhausted migrant hopping at my feet, a phenomenon I had never experienced before:

So I’ve added 8 new species here so far. I need 10. Like any good sporting event, it all come down to the final minute. Tomorrow is the grand finale of the field trips for me – the Big Day van. We go all day and try to see how many species we can find. There is a prize for those in the van with the most species, creating an incentive to find everything, so I am hopeful that during the course of the day we will come across just two new species for the Big Year. In the meantime, I’m missing a Blue-footed Booby in Arizona ….

So here I am at the Rio Grande Valley Birding Festival. One of the biggest and best of the many birding festivals in the country, featuring all the A-List glitterati celeb birders of North America, such as Pete Dunne, Jon Dunn, Bill Clark, Rick Wright, Jeff Gordon. Everyone who is anyone is here. And me. I have just two days left as I am scheduled to leave fashionably early on Sunday.

Today started out as a “Groundhog Day” day. As in the well-known movie, my alarm went off at the same time as yesterday, but not at 6 like in the movie but four o’clock. Again. I ran the same routine, ate the same breakfast, and got in the hotel van. “I’m going to the convention center,” I droned. I get a blank look from the driver. “It’s behind Sam’s Club,” I specified. ” …… Sam’s Club … Sam’s Club …. hmmmm.” She runs into the hotel and comes back with “I know where we’re going!” (You don’t know where Sam’s Club is?!?!? The Harlingen Convention Center?!?!? In Harlingen, Texas??? Half a mile away?)

Soon I was on the bus and we set out into the early morning darkness for two hours until we reached the little village of Salineno. Within minutes of standing on the river, without even trying, before we said our prayers, along came a Ringed Kingfisher (542) on this side of the river! It’s in bounds! The shot is goooood!

We returned to the feeders where I saw almost all these birds yesterday. I was eager to get back to the river to search for the seedeater. I snuck away early but didn’t get far before the rest of the group came along. It was an all-out group search. But first we had to pick through the kinglets and titmice for the beginners. I’m starting to sweat, fearing we would run out of time before finding success. Eventually we reached the spot where I knew one had been seen a few days ago. The clock is ticking, no bird is showing. Then I heard a sweet sound: “Seadeater!!!” And there it was, Morelet’s Seedeater (543) (ABA 648).

I searched for this bird on my first visit to the valley in 1995 and again last April. I had to see one this trip and there it was, sweet redemption.

Tomorrow I am on a search for Aplomado Falcon, which could be a sure thing, but Sprague’s Pipit will take more effort. Later in the day we are going to South Padre Island where lady luck will make or break this trip. I have four new ones so far, plus the falcon makes five, and if I can get four on the island I’m at 9. I must get one more on the last day on the Big Day van. My prediction? Yellow-throated Warbler.

Today started early … and shaky. I got up at 4, ate a quick simple breakfast set out for us early risers, and then took my ride to the convention center. The hotel van was occupied so they put me in a cab with a cabbie who, as a life-long resident, must surely know every corner of Harlingen, Texas. I could tell him to take me to any corner of the city and he could do so blindfolded. How wrong can you get! He takes me to a place dark and vacant, miles from anywhere. “Are you sure this is the right place?”, I squirmed. This is where the festival used to take place, but this year it’s at the convention center. “Where’s that?”, he asks. While the clock is ticking he finds his way on google and gets me to my destination with minutes to spare.

At the curb I’m expecting a van for ten people but instead we board a full-size bus. Wow, these guys really know power. We plowed through traffic like we were king of the road. Two hours later we were at the Santa Margarita Ranch Bluffs, high above the Rio Grande.

From here we could look down on the birds and easily see anything that flies up or down the river. Green Kingfisher came along, 2 or 3 of them, but no Ringed Kingfisher. We followed a Hook-billed Kite as it flew along in front of us in the wrong country! “Out of bounds! No score for Woodward!”, yelled the ump. I had to throw it back, a real good one. Ouch! Later I glimpsed Audubon’s Oriole (540), one of the specialties of the upriver area.

From here we drove up to Salineno to what used to be called The Birders’ Colony. Lots of chairs set up at feeders, bringing birds to you up close. Here are some of them:

We searched for the seadeater but no luck. I ended the trip a little on the disappointed side. My spirits were lifted when I joined Joy, Kara, and Robert, the same crew that joined me in our journey down California Gulch on 11 May, to search for parrots. First we went to Hugh Ramsey Park in Harlingen where we picked up news of the latest parrot roost nearby from a local birder, your best source of scoop. Off we went to a certain neighborhood near 7th street, following our ears. And there they were, Red-crowned Parrots (541) gathering on the power lines. These are not pigeons:

Hundreds of them. From here they moved over one block so we followed. Now they were roosting in the trees on the front lawns of the residential neighborhood. Shrieeeeeeeeeeeeek!!!! The noise was deafening! They were everywhere, some only feet away. Just as quickly as they arrived, they went silent and settled in for the night. End of day.

Tomorrow I go back upstream to Salineno and Falcon Dam. I still hope for Morelet’s Seadeater and Ringed Kingfisher. If a Hook-billed Kite drifts over to this side of the river, so much the better.

I could say Texas III since I did cross the panhandle on I-40 back in May where I added Mississippi Kite. But this is my second birding trip here. I missed enough birds back in April to make a second trip worthwhile. Today was a travel day, I might have seen five pigeons all day, but both flights were on time or early and nobody lost my carry-on luggage.

Flying in to Houston , then a short hop to Harlingen:

Tomorrow this hotel, catering to birders, serves breakfast at 4:00 am so I’ll be on time for my field trip that starts at 5:00. They even give me a ride to the convention center. The first two days take me upriver where I have the most holes in my list. I know when I am in the lap of luxury when the drinking glasses in my room are glass instead of plastic. I say I deserve it, a Big Year is a tough life on the road.

Last Friday I spelled out my plans to reach 573 for the year, including 3 more in Arizona, namely, Ruddy Ground-Dove, Mountain Plover, and one other. Yesterday the Tucson Rare Bird Alert lit up with news of a Ruddy Ground-Dove in Tucson. I gambled and decided to wait here this morning until I saw reports of its presence today. By 9:30 I was out the door, the bird is still there. To make the trip more worthwhile, I decided to throw in a trip to the Santa Cruz Flats, half way between Tucson and Phoenix, to search for Mountain Plover.

I arrived at Reid Park in Tucson and other birders were present. As I circled around the outside of the Rose Garden, one of the birders from inside called out that the bird was right there. I stopped to look and as I did I saw it fly a short distance. As I approached, it flew again and landed in a rose bush but I couldn’t find it. After an hour of searching by me and 3 or 4 other birders, I had to concede the bird was no longer in the immediate area. I wanted a picture but it was not to be but I saw the bird (538) and I had to get going for the next chase.

I had to feel my way around the Santa Cruz Flats with my crude handmade map and vague memory. Eventually I found the Evergreen Turf Farm and stopped to look. Three scans with the scope turned up nothing but flocks of larks and pipits. Despair. This is the same spot I searched back in February and came up empty. Did I come all this way again for nothing? The most recent eBird report had them from Tweedy Road so I turned around and went the half block over. I stopped and scanned but again nothing. Wait! What’s that? A flock of shorebirds in flight! I followed them in my binoculars as they circled the field three times, each time almost landing, only to continue onward. Then they did land. I put up the scope and after a careful observation, I could see I had a flock of 12 Mountain Plovers (539)! Soon more joined in until the flock grew to 30. Then they split up and spread out, some coming my way although still distant.

I now have just one more bird to get in Arizona. The only things left are tough ones like Sage Thrasher and Sprague’s Pipit. I really have to hope for a rarity from afar. I was supposed to stop at Reid Park again on the way back and even though I was carefully watching the signs, I drove right past the exit. Oh well, I’ll find another one later and get a good picture. Now I have to pack for tomorrow’s trip. The theme is “Ten in Texas”. It’s not quite “Remember the Alamo” but it suites my purposes.

There’s no getting around it. No continuance can be granted. I have no timeouts. No whistle will stop this clock, my Big Year is down to the final two months. In between upcoming trips all I can do is watch the rare bird alerts hoping something shows up. Around this time of year in 1998, krazy Komito still needed Ross’s Gull. He got on a 5 pm flight in Newark, over nighted in Anchorage, caught a 6:30 am flight to Barrow via Fairbanks, hooked up with a local birder, found some Ross’s Gulls, and arrived in New Jersey the next day at 3 pm. If that’s what it takes to be a Big Year champ, I’ll settle for chump.

Monday I chased a Sharp-tailed Sandpiper, Arizona’s 6th, at Patagonia Lake State Park but nobody relocated it from the day before. The first Ruddy Ground-Dove of the season is now showing in the Verde Valley, a little too far to chase, unless today was December 30. The Rufous-backed Robin in Yuma County of a few days ago was a one day wonder. Speaking of Yuma, Henry Detwiler of Yuma checks in with 663 for his Big Year as of yesterday. At this late date he has no chance of even reaching 700 let alone the record.

My current position is 537. Here’s how I top Roger Tory Peterson. I should get 3 more in Arizona, like Mountain Plover, Ruddy Ground-Dove, and one other, who knows what, that’s 540. I hope to find 10 in Texas, 10 in New Hampshire, and 10 in San Diego, that’s 570. The final 3 at Sandia Crest will serve up my goal of 573. I’ll need a few lucky breaks to offset some misses and extraordinary luck would bring me to 580, but I’ll be thrilled with 573. I spend the next few days getting ready for Texas. Up until a day or two ago a Green-breasted Mango was regularly seen at Edinburg Scenic Wetlands and on Monday a Northern Jacana appeared at Estero Llano Grande. Two very choice birds. Will either one reappear next week? Will something else come along instead?

Here’s a shot I didn’t get a chance to post from Washington, one of our more colorful ducks:

Finally! I got Barn Owl (537) tonight! For a bird listed as common here it took awhile to catch up with it. In fact this is the first one I’ve seen in Arizona. Thanks to my elite team of lookouts and informants, numbering in the thousands, spread out from coast to coast, I received a good tip recently from someone who knows someone with a nest box. Today I called this person who lives in Hereford with a nest box in his yard. Earlier this year there were 6 eggs in the box and later he saw 5 different Barn Owls in his yard. He told me he thought there would still be one roosting in the box if I would like to come over for a look. It sounded promising. At 5:30 this evening I arrived and saw the nest box in the back yard. The homeowner put up a step ladder and as he was about to open the box, out flew a Barn Owl. It circled the yard and landed on a light fixture on the side of the house:

I didn’t want to approach too close and disturb it again so after a few shots I was done. Thank you Pat and thank you Elaine!

Corrigendum: The day after I got back from Ventura I listened to recordings of Allen’s Hummingbird. They were spot on to what I was hearing in the tall eucalyptus trees near the dock. There was at least one pair engaged in territorial disputes. I knew they weren’t Anna’s. So that’s number 536. Hopefully I will get a better look in San Diego in December.

I have a new goal for the Big Year. According to my reliable Big Year Department of Statistics, Bureau of Facts and Figures, Office of Best Guesses, I am on track to hit 570 for the year. So why not throw in some history and shoot for one more than Roger Tory Peterson counted in his Big Year in 1953. Roger and his English buddy James Fisher started in Newfoundland in April, worked their way down to Florida, across Texas (they dipped down into Mexico but didn’t count those birds in their totals), over to California, and up the West Coast to Alaska. All in one 100 day trip. Roger continued to count more species during the rest of the year and finished with 572, breaking Bob Smart’s record of 510 from the year before. My goal is now 573.

The only way I can do this is to pick up the pace. I have just finalized travel plans in December that will take me on a whirlwind coast-to coast final sweep of North America. From here I return to New Hampshire for several days to scoop up some very easy ticks for the list, and a few that will require a chase. From there I go directly to San Diego for my third and final West Coast tour, finishing with the grand finale in New Mexico at 10,000 feet. There are only a few more birds possible in Arizona and those, like Mountain Plover and Ruddy Ground-Dove, won’t show up until next month. The year is already drawing to a close, and so is this good day.

“The West Coast has the sunshine, and the girls all get so tan….” Many of these places I visit this year, some for the first time in decades, spark dormant memories. Friday, as my plane coasted in to LAX, it occurred to me that it was 50 years ago this month that I first flew in to LAX when we moved to California. For years afterward I was teased about the first thing I said as we walked through the airport parking lot: “Look at all those California license plates!”

There are a handful of birds in North America that have a tiny range that is way off the beaten path requiring extra effort to see them. The best examples are Kirtland’s Warbler in Michigan and Colima Warbler in Big Bend National Park, Texas. Island Scrub-Jay is another. I’ve always wanted to see one but never had the chance. This year was the time to do it.

Day 1 – Friday, 19 October. I leave the apartment at 8:00 am, arrive at the airport at 9:20, leave Tucson on time at 10:50, and arrive at LAX at 12:20. By 1:30 I am on the road. I take the scenic route, Pacific Coast Highway, up to Ventura, passing through Topanga Canyon, Malibu, and all the A-List Southern California coastal towns on a stereotypical Southern California day – cloudless sky, calm air, low 70’s. Two hours later I check in to the Amanzi Hotel, carefully situated between downtown, Highway 101, and a train trestle. Most importantly, I am minutes from Ventura Harbor, where I immediately head so I’ll know where the boat is tomorrow.

After I find the dock, I walk across the street to the beach to look for Dunlin. Instead, I find something better:

Red Knot! (533) I may not see any more of these this year so this was a good find. I’ll get Dunlin later.

Day 2 – 20 October. Up at 7:00 and at the dock by 8:00 or so. The boat doesn’t leave until 9:30 so no need to get an early start. I have a ticket with Island Packers, purveyors of rides to the Channel Islands since 1969. Before we leave the dock I can see I am the only birder on board. The ride out takes much longer than usual due to heavy surf. Many times we have to slow almost to a stop to meet the bigger waves. I try sitting on the bow for a while but it’s like riding a bucking bronco and I’m afraid I’ll get tossed overboard. Within 20 minutes we see a species I expected we would – Black-vented Shearwater (534), about a dozen crossing the bow. Soon we would see groups of dozens on the water.

Two hours and twenty minutes after shoving off, we dock at Prisoner’s Cove, Santa Cruz Island. I scan the hillsides hoping for an early score. My anticipation level is high; I’m here, the only place on planet Earth where you can see this bird. I’ve come all this way, I must see one. The way it works, you land on the border between the national park and the rest of the island owned by the Nature Conservancy. If you want to enter Nature Conservancy land, you must join the ship naturalist. I ask and find that my best bet is to join the walk and then turn back when I’ve had my fill. A group of 8 of us heads up the trail and after half an hour, I see and hear nothing. Is today the one day when Island Scrub-Jay fails to show? Did I come all this way for nothing? I keep going. Then I see one! It lands in a distant snag right out in the open. I inform the guide there is one just up ahead. We reach the tree and out pops another one, right out in the open, Island Scrub-Jay (535)!

I get all the pictures I want and, since I can’t do any better, I break off from the group and head back, head in the clouds. I got the bird I came here to see.

Soon I run into two local birders who have just seen a Varied Thrush. But first, they offer to show me a nest box of Saw-whet Owl, a bird they say is common on the island. But, no luck with the owl so I return to the thrush site and see a bird fly overhead that seems to have the color pattern of Varied Thrush, probably was the bird, but it got away without sufficient identification. I think I have Allen’s Hummingbird high in the tall eucalyptus trees near the dock but I can’t get a good look. Before I know it, it’s time to board the boat for the return trip to the mainland. I eat a good pizza blocks from the hotel and then join Cris and Al for the Sunday night game.

Day 3 – 21 October. I check out of the Amanzi at 8:00 and look for the Route 1 exit off 101 but I can’t find it, the morning sun is directly in my eyes and I can’t see the road signs. Instead of a scenic ride down Rt 1, I end up taking the 101 to the 405 to LAX. Needless to say, 20 mph was the going speed most of the way. Imagine doing that every day? I gas up the car, find the rental car drop off, ride the shuttle to the airport, and chill a few hours until the 1:10 departure, happy to let someone else drive for awhile. We arrive in Tucson by 2:30, where it is many degrees cooler than in LA. I stop at the railroad trestle along the way to look for Barn Owl but no luck. I may have a new lead on that one later this week, let’s see what happens. The trip is over and I’m thrilled with how it went. In two weeks I leave for Texas.