Western Kingbird (Tyrannus verticalis)

On a recent Friday in July, smothered by the blazing midday sun, I strolled the "Union Bay Nature Preserve." This marvelous urban birding oasis was previously known as the "Montlake Landfill," and before that, the "Union Bay Dump." A tip of the hat to Madison Avenue for a great rebranding!

In any case, as the old saying goes, "one man's trash is another man's treasure," and this landfill delivers  a wealth of aerial acrobats. Beneath my feet were decades of detritus, civilization's castings, and, one imagines, the hand-scribbled letters of ardent yearning between long-forgotten lovers. Above me were swallows, eagles, egrets, and many other kinds of beautiful wetland inhabitants.

One interesting character caught my eye high on a branch above a small pond in the preserve:

A fellow birdwatcher stood nearby bearing a camera so large it might make Edwin Hubble blush. Neither he nor I could identify this bird in the heat of the moment. I rattled off a series of almost-random guesses as to the species, yet my compatriot merely nodded unconvinced. He grinned that polite but dubious grin of the incorrigible skeptic.

Upon returning home I did a little research and identified this bird as a Western Kingbird. Kingbird's get their name from their dominant, aggressive behavior. They will attack larger birds, like hawks, and even humans if they feel threatened. The individual I encountered was resting lazily on a branch, presumably keeping an eye out for a swarm of flies to attack.

According to my field guide this bird is a "scarce migrant to Pacific Northwest." I hope this particularly adventurous member of his species enjoyed his foray to the edge of his species's range!

Snowy Owl (Bubo scandiacus)

    A beautiful and extremely rare visitor from the Arctic made a stop in the Queen Anne neighborhood of Seattle. My family spotted a crowd of a birdwatchers on a walk to the bakery last Sunday. We were drawn to the crowd of onlookers and followed their upturned gazes to the top of a derelict house, where this majestic creature had chosen to perch.

    

    The graininess of the pictures deserves explanation. I had to take these pictures with my smartphone, as I hadn't gone out intending to see one of the most widely-sought birds in North America! 

    The snowy owl spends most of the year in the polar north, across all the world's longitudes. Unlike most owls, the snowy owl prefers to hunt during the daytime. Unfortunately conservationists believe the world's population of snowy owls is in decline, and may number only 100,000. Here's to hoping that this species makes a comeback and that there will be many more sightings of this glorious animal.

Barn Swallow (Hirundo rustica)

I've been trying for years to take a picture of a Barn Swallow to share on this blog. It has been a struggle, however, to take the portrait of a subject who regularly fidgets about at 25 to 40 miles per hour.

Pity this author no longer for I have uncovered the secret of photographing swallows. Like a paparazzo, one must skulk and seek out the swallow in his private life. Devoted readers will recall a pair of Tree Swallows that were caught copulating years ago.

Similarly, I found a mating pair of Barn Swallows last week nesting above the covered parking spot of a cabin at the Kalaloch Lodge.

Out of respect for the privacy of the minors in the brood, I did not approach to take a picture of the nest itself. The family, positioned directly above our car for the night, generously thanked me for my snooping with a bounty of fecal souvenirs.

Barn Swallows are beautiful blue birds that are most easily identified in flight by the "streamers" formed by their deeply forked tails.

Phainopepla (Phainopepla nitens)

A few weeks ago I took a trip to southeast Arizona, one of the top birding destinations in North America. I'm told only Southern Texas, and the Aleutian Islands of Alaska can compete with the Greater Tucson Area.

This female Phainopepla has a difficult-to-say and difficult-to-spell name. It has a jay-like crown but is taxonomically in a different family (it's more closely related to Cedar Waxwing... coming soon to Theo's Aviary!).

What kind of bird is it? It's a "silky flycatcher," which sounds faintly indecent.

The Phainopepla can lose 95% of its bodyweight in water in a single day yet it rarely drinks water. Instead, it gets all the water it needs from a diet of desert mistletoe. So don't think this bird is hanging around by the mistletoe looking for besos. It's about hydration.

Pileated woodpecker (Dryocopus pileatus)

When someone says the word "woodpecker," your mind's eye likely conjures up a bird like the one I saw in Seward Park, Seattle earlier this week.

The pileated woodpecker is the largest woodpecker in North America (excluding UFO-like sightings of the EXTINCT Ivory-Billed Woodpecker). This bird is very large, giving it a dinosaur-like quality when you come upon it unexpectedly. I could identify this bird as a female from the lack of a red stripe on the cheek.

Osprey (Pandion haliaetus)

If you will indulge, Dear Reader, a few words from Alfred, Lord Tennyson:

    "He clasps the crag with crooked hands;

     Close to the sun in lonely lands,
     Ringed with azure world, he stands.
     The Wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;
     He watches from his mountain walls;
     And like a thunderbolt he falls."

     The Eagle, 1851

Today's bird is the mighty Osprey. If you live anywhere near water in the Americas you can probably, with a little guidance, find an Osprey nest nearby. Given the Osprey's position at or near the apex of the food chain, they aren't shy about conspicuous consumption -- often they'll nest in plain sight atop manmade structures like telephone poles, all the while gorging ravenously on fresh-caught fish. I sighted the pair below in April (a few years back), sharing a delectable fillet of the Pacific's finest sashimi.

Some of my more punctilious audience members likely winced when they saw the title of the Tennyson poem, above, as the Osprey is not taxonomically a true eagle. However, in appearance, behavior, and general majesty, they are close-close cousins to sea eagles like the famous Bald Eagle. Ospreys are fearsome hunters, with some seen successfully plucking fish out of the sea on 70% of dives (imagine a baseball player with a .700 batting average). Like the Bald Eagle, Osprey populations were decimated by use of the pesticide DDT in the 1950s and 60s. They have made a triumphant recovery in the last 40 years and can now be found up and down the western hemisphere, often migrating thousands of miles every spring and fall.

Wishing you a Happy New Year and great birding in 2018! 

Northern Waterthrush (Parkesia noveboracensis)

The Northern Waterthrush is one of springtime's warbler delights here in New York City. You can find him bobbing his tail by your local babbling brook. Of course, he's migratory and will only be seen in these parts for a few weeks each year en route between the tropics and his summer home in Northern Canada.

I saw this individual by Triplets Bridge. I could (reasonably confidently) distinguish this Northern Waterthrush from the very-similar Louisiana Waterthrush with two field marks: 1) the chest striping that continues up to the throat, and 2) the slight yellow tint to the supercilium (that's the plumage line between the beak and the back of the head).