The highs and lows of “owl mania”

(published 4-17-24)

In my last column I mentioned a just-for-fun goal of seeing or hearing 25 bird species in my yard in 2024, before the first day of spring. I came up just short, and one unexpected miss was Great Horned Owl.

Eastern Screech Owl by Randall Everts

I usually hear owls in the neighborhood regularly, during the night or just before dawn, when retrieving our Daily Herald on the driveway. The hooting is a small but rich aspect of suburban living.

Any kind of owl encounter is special, and I lucked into a good one in February at a small preserve in Wheaton. Until that day, I had never viewed an Eastern Screech Owl in DuPage County or even Illinois. The species is possibly even more common than Great Horned Owl in our region, but you’d never know it.

“Screechies” come in two color morphs, red and gray. The bird I witnessed was a beautiful red-morph, sunning on an open perch. I didn’t see its mate, but it probably saw me. Screech Owls are incredibly well camouflaged, especially the gray ones.

Across the way, in the same preserve, visitors could view a Great Horned Owl nest with three owlets. Like the Screech Owl location, the area was marked off by yellow caution tape to keep spectators at a respectful distance. Site managers had stepped in to protect the birds.

Protectionary measures are sometimes necessary.

People do get excited about owls, and sometimes their enthusiasm (or thoughtlessness) gets out of hand. A Chicago newspaper ran a front-page story in January about a pair of Great Horned Owls in Lincoln Park being harassed by a drone. The operators expressed no remorse.  

Indeed, the popularity of owls makes them vulnerable to human interference. You may remember the “owl mania” that broke out when a family of Great Horned Owls nested in a hollow tree in Fabyan Forest Preserve in Geneva. This went on for several years around 2015. The charismatic birds were highly visible and attracted crowds of onlookers. Many people were too close and too loud. Preserve staffers and volunteers from Kane County Audubon did their best to manage the circus.

Birdwatching has rules we are expected to follow. The American Birding Association’s Code of Ethics should be required reading. The gist: Be courteous, to the birds and to your fellow birders.

Great Horned Owl (juvenile)

Disclosing the precise location of nesting owls is frowned upon. It goes against the code.

It’s not just owls. Last month the Forest Preserve District of Will County announced the presence of four active Bald Eagle nests. Wonderful news! But where? To protect the birds, the district does not disclose nest locations to the public. It’s a good policy.

Birders who ask around can usually find what they’re after. I wouldn’t have seen the Screech Owl in Wheaton without an assist. The birding grapevine is built upon trust.

I’m not sure I know any birders who practice total secrecy when it comes to owl locations. Doing so would be a little selfish in my opinion. Helping others experience special birds can be a spark, leading those people into a lifetime of birding and conservation. That sounds a little dreamy, I know, but it really happens.

“Owls might be rivaled only by Bald Eagles as ornithological recruiting agents, inspiring young and old to take an interest, to care about wildlife and to want to share with others,” said Noah Comet in an insightful 2018 New York Times story titled “The Delicate Politics of Chasing Owls.”

Delicate is indeed the word. I strive to be an ethical birder while also being someone who shares the joy and excitement of the hobby. Sometimes, I admit, it’s hard to be both. Bird walk leaders feel this tension all the time.

The birding police are out there, and some day they might haul me in for questioning. If that happens, I will plead my case, for the owls and for the people. On the scales of birdwatching justice, I’m going for balance.

Illinois owls (sidebar)

There’s no debate about the two most common owl species in northern Illinois: Eastern Screech and Great Horned. Both are nocturnal and their overall populations are declining according to the American Bird Conservancy.

Great Horned is the husky-voiced “hoot owl” we often hear, especially in winter. Sometimes we see them as well, flying silently like giant moths or silhouetted on a perch. These are special moments for the observer.

Screech Owls are tiny and much less conspicuous. I’ve heard their “whinny” call a few times in the yard or close by. It’s an eerie sound you don’t forget.

Six other owl species are found regularly in Illinois, depending on the season: Barn, Barred, Long-eared, Northern Saw-whet, Short-eared, and Snowy.

Burrowing Owl, a rare visitor from the west, turned up at Montrose Point Bird Sanctuary in Chicago just last week. Watchers went bonkers.

In January 2012, three birders set off on an Owl Big Day and saw or heard all eight Illinois species, an amazing achievement. The veteran owlers—Steve Bailey, Pete Moxen and Jeff Smith—timed their quest perfectly, aided by knowing a Barn Owl location in advance and by 2012 being an “irruption” year for Snowy Owls in our region.

The United States is home to 19 own species. Worldwide there are 220. To learn more about them, I recommend a recently published book, “What an Owl Knows,” by Jennifer Ackerman.

Copyright 2024 by Jeff Reiter. All rights reserved.

Birding by numbers

Keeping lists is what many watchers do, and some take it to extremes.  

(published 3-20-24)

Bonus bird: Black-throated Gray Warbler
(photo by Jackie Bowman)

In February, the man who has seen more birds than anyone else on earth put a bow on his lifetime quest of 64 years. Peter Kaestner, birding in the Philippines, spotted an Orange-tufted  Spiderhunter, becoming the first person to ever witness 10,000 species.  

If you are wondering, there are roughly 11,500 officially recognized bird species. It’s unlikely that anyone will ever see them all, or even try to. The list is constantly growing due to genetic studies that reveal new species.

Birders are known for keeping lists, of course, and most of us maintain at least a few. Listing helps us remember what we see, where we saw it, and when. It’s a way to chart our personal progress in the hobby. List building can also motivate us to spend more time birding, as if we need it.

This winter I’ve been playing a little listing game myself—to see how many kinds of backyard birds I can spot before the first day of spring. I’m up to 17 with a goal of 25. I’ll need some luck to get there but the unusually warm winter is a plus. Spring migration is ahead of schedule.

If you happen to be a member of the Illinois Ornithological Society (IOS) then you probably know about Listers Corner. It’s a database on the IOS website where birders annually submit their personal sightings (for Illinois only) in all manner of categories such as life list, big year, big month, big day, county list, backyard list, green list and more.

Listers Corner is fun to peruse—google it and see. The volume of arcane data is astounding. Want to know who has spotted the most species in Ogle County? That would be Dan Williams, with 276. For DuPage, it’s Pete Moxon with 315. In Vermilion County, Steve Bailey leads with 281.

Records for specific birding sites are celebrated, too. The Montrose Point (Chicago) leader is Robert Hughes, with 339 species. No other Illinois venue sports a larger list, with 351 species recorded all-time. Hughes tracks Montrose sightings on his website, The Orniphile.

But maybe you wish to know who has seen a Yellow-bellied Sapsucker in the most counties? Andy Sigler holds that mark with 102, which means he’s seen the bird at least once in every Illinois county. Some birders really get around.

It’s all a bit silly, of course. County, state, and national borders are human inventions. Birds don’t know or care how we draw things up. On the other hand, a few species sound like they are laughing. I’m looking at you, Mr. W. B. Nuthatch. Maybe they find our listing games amusing.

All birders can play. IOS welcomes submissions to Listers Corner, even by non-members. The archive goes back to 1987.

Finally countable: European Goldfinch
(photo by Christian Goers)

My name appears in only one category, Yard Life List-Suburban, where my total is 124 species—a respectable number after 27 years in the same home but still way down the list. The top yard birder, remarkably, claims 207 species after just five years of residency. I’m fortunate to add one or two species per year.

For all listing categories, the honor system applies. I don’t know any birders who would pad a list with made-up sightings. Owen Wilson, the actor, has a good line about that in “The Big Year,” not suitable for a family newspaper.

The most-watched section of Listers Corner is Illinois Life List. Two birders are tied at 417 species each, and only 10 birders have seen at least 400 species in the state. The “400 Club” is rare air.

Four hundred fifty-nine species have been officially recorded in Illinois. Two were added in 2023: Crested Caracara and Broad-tailed Hummingbird. When those two lit up the Rare Bird Alert there was a mad rush to see them, with the 400 clubbers and birders approaching the magic milestone leading the way.

Joe Lill, who heads up the three-person Listers Corner Committee for IOS, sits at 393 species for Illinois. He told me he missed the caracara in Fulton Co. by a day, and the hummingbird in Champaign by an hour. His failed efforts speak to the importance of reacting to rare bird sightings on a moment’s notice and always keeping the gas tank full. Good timing helps, too.

Lill did experience some listing joy in 2023, elevating his state life list by three with Ross’s Gull, Gray-crowned Rosy Finch, and Rock Wren.

State listers received a welcome bonus in January when the Illinois Ornithological Records Committee voted to add European Goldfinch to the Illinois checklist. The species is seen regularly, especially in Lake County, but until now was regarded as “introduced” and therefore not officially countable.

Yet another bonus this winter was the appearance of a Black-throated Gray Warbler in Elgin. The rare visitor from the West visited a private feeder during the severe cold snap in mid-January. An accommodating homeowner welcomed birders, enabling many to score an unexpected addition to their life, Illinois or Cook County lists—in some cases all three.

So, to list or not to list? You decide. It’s a matter of preference, personal style, and maybe your feelings about the competitive side of birding. That said, few birders are outwardly competitive, and many keep their listing achievements private.

For all of us, it’s about appreciating birds. Enjoy them however you wish. I’m thankful that birding offers so many ways to go about it. 

Copyright 2024 by Jeff Reiter. All rights reserved.

Recapping the 2023 birding year

Local watchers experienced some mind-bending sightings

(published 1-17-24)

A Limpkin at Fullersburg Woods in Oak Brook was a
first for DuPage County. Photo by Mike Warner.

For birders, the word invasion usually refers to birds from the north coming south. We treasure the occasional winters when large numbers of fleeting species such as crossbills, redpolls and Snowy Owls drop down to visit our region. Years may pass before the phenomenon repeats.

In 2023, we experienced a reverse invasion, this time from Dixie, and by a tropical species that until four years ago was entirely foreign to Illinois. By mid-summer Limpkins were popping up all over the Midwest and other parts of the country, even Canada.

Finding the big-billed wader in Chicagoland was easy, and some days you could track one down in multiple counties. Individuals at Chicago Botanic Garden and Fullersburg Woods Forest Preserve were among the most conspicuous, the latter being a first record for DuPage.

Limpkins lingered through the fall and at least one into winter, emboldened by relatively balmy weather conditions. As the holidays approached, visions of Limpkin were dancing in the heads of Christmas Bird Count participants. Insane!

Five wayward American Flamingos created a public spectacle
north of Milwaukee. Photo by Matthew Cvetas.

Seeing a Limpkin in these parts is shocking enough, but flamingos? Bizarre describes the scene in Port Washington, Wis., where in September five American Flamingos frolicked on a Lake Michigan beach. Dozens of the tropical long-leggers were blown north by Hurricane Idalia and touched down in 14 states, most with no previous record of the species. Illinois wasn’t so lucky, but plenty of birders scurried north for their own version of Summerfest.

It was indeed a most entertaining year, filled with avian surprises quite within reach—or at least a reasonable drive. Locally, the madness began in March when Dan Lory spotted a juvenile Ross’s Gull along Lake Michigan, near the Indiana line. The bombshell sighting of this rare arctic species triggered a three-day rush to the lakefront. Binocular fingers trembled and not from the cold.

This juvenile Ross’s Gull on the Chicago lakefront
thrilled birders in March. Photo by Matt Zuro.

I confess to being partial to rarities that stick around long enough for lots of birders to see them. These so-called “stake out” birds lend a fun social aspect to the hobby and build a sense of community. The Chicago “Rossie” certainly did that, as did two other unexpected visitors.

News spread quickly of a Rock Wren in West Chicago, discovered by Haley Gottardo at Kress Creek Farms Park in October. I was a few days late to the party but upon arrival there were four other helpful birders present, all just as excited as me.

Another western wanderer, Gray-crowned Rosy Finch, caused a stir on the campus of Northwestern University campus a couple weeks later. An alert undergraduate, Collin Porter, reported the rarity and scores of birders thanked him for a hard-to-get lifer. The only previous Illinois record of the species came in 1990, in Will County.

Two downstate birds also dialed up the crazy, both first-time records. A Crested Caracara appeared in Fulton County last January, first spotted by Marcia Heitz. In November, a Broad-tailed Hummingbird fueled up at a backyard feeder in Champaign, hosted by accommodating homeowners Deanna and Doug Uphoff.

A surprise Rock Wren lived up to its name in West Chicago,
delighting birders in October. Photo by Bonnie Graham.

The surprise raptor and hummer raised the all-time Illinois roster to 456 species.

Migration tragedy and other news

The year 2023 was newsy in other ways, and not always good. In fact, the biggest local bird story was so tragic it captured national attention.

Bird deaths from collisions with McCormick Place in Chicago exceeded 1,000 the night of October 4-5. Bright lights and a giant glass-covered building in combination with high migration volume and rainy weather delivered the deadly toll, comprised mostly of warblers. Bird advocacy groups immediately petitioned McCormick Place management to implement known solutions for preventing bird strikes under Chicago’s bird-friendly buildings ordinance. What happened in October was largely preventable.

Matt Igleski was named the first executive director of Chicago Audubon Society, just before CAS changed its name to Chicago Bird Alliance. The new moniker came about as a growing number of Audubon chapters around the country seek to distance themselves from the problematic legacy of their namesake, John James Audubon. The famous bird artist profited from the slave trade and opposed abolition.

Last March, after a lengthy review process, National Audubon decided to keep its name. Several NAS board members resigned in protest.

An observant Northwestern University student spotted
this Gray-crowned Rosy Finch on the Evanston campus.
Photo by Fran Morel.

Birds named after people (eponymous names) will be phased out starting in 2024, the American Ornithological Society (AOS) recently announced. A pilot renaming program will begin with about 10 birds and assign more descriptive labels. Blackburnian Warbler, for example, might become Flame-throated Warbler. Only common names, not scientific names, are set to change.

The plan to purge all eponyms is not sitting well with many birders and birding organizations, who prefer that name changes be considered on a case-by-case basis. Opposition to the AOS declaration appears intense. This is likely not a done deal.

More notable sightings

Listing all the notable birds of 2023 is an impossible task, and I’m sure a few escaped my radar. But some sightings simply can’t be ignored.

A breeding plumage Ruff triggered many road trips to Boone Co. last spring. Dan Williams found the showstopper and followed it to McHenry Co. Roseate Spoonbills popped up in both Mason and Putnam Counties in August, followed by two reports in Chicagoland. A spoonie even traveled to Green Bay!

Chicagoland’s perennial hotspot, Montrose Point on Lake Michigan, produced California Gull, Gull-billed Tern, Buff-breasted Sandpiper, Whimbrel, Snowy Plover, Red Knot, King Rail, Snowy Owl, Evening Grosbeak, and Scissor-tailed Flycatcher. A Piping Plover named Imani also checked in, the son of legendary parents Monty and Rose.

Birdwatchers hope Red Crossbill sightings at Morton
Arboretum and other venues across the region
continue into 2024. Photo by Randall Everts.

A migrating Chuck-will’s Widow was rescued in downtown Chicago by a volunteer with Chicago Bird Collision Monitors. The nightjar went to Willowbrook Wildlife Center in Glen Ellyn for treatment.

Lake County goodies included a Kirtland’s Warbler at Chicago Botanic Garden, discovered by Anna Tendero, plus Harlequin Duck, Glossy Ibis, Yellow Rail, Black Vulture and Loggerhead Shrike. The Latest Limpkin Award went to the bird at Mellody Farm Nature Preserve in Lake Forest, still present on Christmas Day.

A floating colony of state-endangered Common Terns at Naval Station Great Lakes (North Chicago) enjoyed a banner year, fledging 32 chicks. Kudos to Brad Semel from IDNR for his project leadership.

In DuPage, a Little Blue Heron at Danada Forest Preserve excited birders for a solid week in August.

Nesting Northern Mockingbirds were a nice story at Morton Arboretum in Lisle, and from Thanksgiving on the Arb proved reliable for Red Crossbill.

Neighboring Hidden Lake Forest Preserve surrendered an Eastern Whip-poor-will on the DuPage Birding Club’s Spring Bird Count, an event drawing a record-high 148 watchers across the county on May 6.

Fermilab discoveries included Marbled Godwit, Lark Sparrow and Blue Grosbeak. A lone Trumpeter Swan spent most of the year on site.

Illinois’s first Crested Caracara cruised
Fulton County in early 2023.
Photo by Keith McMullen.

Paul Clifford knows it pays to keep an eye on the sky and to never underestimate a parking lot’s birding potential. He spotted a Golden Eagle at Waterfall Glen in March, and then a Mississippi Kite at Maple Grove in May. At both forest preserves, Paul was standing in the car park.

Of course, watching your backyard feeders can be rewarding, too. Palatine resident Tom Syme reported a stunning all-yellow cardinal on May 30—a one-day wonder, unfortunately.

Frequent sightings of Trumpeter Swan, Red-shouldered Hawk and Pileated Woodpecker in 2023 indicate these species are gaining traction in the Chicago region. Bald Eagle as well.

Finally, every year it seems that a new “hotspot” is discovered. Word gets out, more birders start going there, and like magic the site list grows. I’d never heard of Muirhead Springs Forest Preserve in Kane County when 2023 began but the place quickly earned a reputation as a magnet for uncommon birds. Feathered guests included Eared Grebe, Red-necked Phalarope, Whooping Crane, Black-necked Stilt, Black Tern, Say’s Phoebe and Smith’s Longspur. Surely a Limpkin was lurking in the marsh as well.

Milestones

Congrats to Winfield’s Diann Bilderback, who earned the DuPage Birding Club’s highest honor, the Distinguished Achievement Award. She is the club’s only two-time president and a tireless can-do volunteer.

The Uphoff family in Champaign hosted this Broad-tailed
 Hummingbird and all who came to see it. Photo by Steve Zehner.

The International Crane Foundation (Baraboo, Wis.) celebrated 50 years in 2023, with co-founder George Archibald still going strong. Chicago’s Fort Dearborn Chapter of Illinois Audubon Society also hit 50.

Indiana Audubon turned 125 and will conduct the Indiana Dunes Birding Festival May 16-19. If you’ve never been, do check it out.

BirdWatching magazine quietly folded in 2023 but nice to see its former editor, Matt Mendenhall, hook up with American Bird Conservancy, an organization doing important work.

The Chicago birding community remembered John Purcell with a memorial tree planting at North Pond (Lincoln Park) in April. John was a friend and birding mentor to many, especially Montrose Point regulars.

The author was over the moon
 about his first Luna Moth sighting.
 Photo by Jeff Reiter.

The Endangered Species Act, born 50 years ago, is credited with helping save 99% of listed species. Still clinging to that list is the Ivory-billed Woodpecker. In October, U.S. Fish and Wildlife announced the species will not be declared extinct—at least for now. Hope is still alive!

Personal notes

From my last column you might think that all I read are picture books. Not true! Two of my favorite books of 2023 were “A Wing and a Prayer: The Race to Save Our Vanishing Birds,” by Anders and Beverly Gyllenhaal, and “What an Owl Knows,” by Jennifer Ackerman. 

My home list grew by one thanks to a singing Warbling Vireo in May. Hard to believe it took 26 years to finally notch such a common species, No. 123 for the yard.

A winter visit to Arizona and five days with Colorado Birding Adventures in June yielded 14 lifers. In both places, the birds, fellow birders and guides surpassed my expectations. Favorite sighting? Had to be the White-tailed Ptarmigan in Rocky Mountain National Park.

Birds are the best, but butterflies and moths are cool, too. Seeing a Luna Moth was literally on my bucket list, and I got to check it off in June, at Cantigny in Wheaton.

Wherever nature watching takes you in 2024, be ready for anything and appreciate all that you see, the common and the rare. Happy trails!

Copyright 2024 by Jeff Reiter. All rights reserved.

More than cute: Picture books that leave a mark

(published 11-29-23)

Goodreads.com is tracking me. The Amazon creation knows what book I’m reading and every book I’ve read in the last four years. It even knows what I will probably read next.

“Feathered Friends,” by emerging author and artist
 Madelyn Lee, contains fun facts about birds
 in backyards and around the world.
  (courtesy Early Light Press LLC)

Goodreads also reports how I’m faring in the 2023 Reading Challenge—if I’m ahead or behind. I’m almost never ahead. My goal this year is 50 books and it’s going to be close. What if I’m a book short on New Year’s Eve?

In August, an answer to that question arrived in a carefully wrapped package from Virginia. Inside was “Feathered Friends,” a children’s picture book from first-time author and illustrator Madelyn A. Lee, age 18.

I don’t receive review books very often, and this one was unlike the others—an oversized field guide for toddlers. The book’s 32 pages feature 17 birds, and how prescient that one of them is American flamingo, a species that crashed Virginia (and 10 other states) a month after the book’s publication.

Copies of Madelyn’s book flew off the table at a Barnes & Noble book signing in Williamsburg, just before she went off to begin studies at the Savannah College of Art and Design.

No, I did not add “Feathered Friends” to my Goodreads list. But I’m keeping that option in my hip pocket. A book is a book, right?

Yes, and potentially much more. The surprise arrival of “Feathered Friends” started me thinking about books for kids and their power to influence how we feel about birds and nature. Young minds remember stuff; early exposure to birds and conservation themes can only be good. Worked for me!

The inspiring Monty and Rose books, this one
and its sequel, are about birds and birders
 beating the odds on a busy Chicago beach.
(courtesy plovermother.com)

My admiration for birdy picture books is soaring. I’ll mention a few of my favorites here because their authors and illustrators deserve the love, and because you might have little ones on your holiday shopping list.

You probably know about Monty and Rose, the piping plover pair that captivated Chicagoans by raising a family on Montrose Beach in 2019. The endangered species hadn’t nested here in more than 70 years.

Monty and Rose chose a tough neighborhood to call home. It took a small army of dedicated volunteers to protect them during their time on the busy strand. The general of that army was Tamima Itani, an Evanston resident who serves as lead volunteer coordinator for Chicago Piping Plovers, a collaboration between Chicago Bird Alliance, Chicago Ornithological Society and Illinois Ornithological Society.

Tamima is the go-to source for information about Monty and Rose and their extended family. Nobody knows them better and turns out she has a gift for putting good stories into words.

Tamima’s two children’s books, “Monty and Rose Nest at Montrose” and “Monty and Rose Return to Montrose,” will leave an impression, I promise. They are adorable but also informative and real. The illustrations by Anna-Maria Crum are terrific.

“The Christmas Owl,” successful on
 so many levels, shines a light on the
important role of wildlife rescue centers.
(courtesy Little, Brown and Company)

Net proceeds from Tamima’s book sales go to piping plover research and conservation. She’s raised $12,000 so far. For more information go to plovermother.com.

On the cuteness scale, a piping plover is hard to beat, especially a downy chick on toothpick legs. Northern saw-whet owl is another heart melter.

Do you remember Rockefeller? She’s the saw-whet who was discovered trapped in New York’s Rockefeller Center Christmas tree in 2020. Like Monty and Rose, “Rocky” became national news—a feel-good story when our Covid-stricken nation really needed one.

I wasn’t aware of “The Christmas Owl” until my wife purchased a copy in September. It’s a special book, and a New York Times bestseller at that. I like it because it highlights the important role of wildlife rehabilitators, in this case Ravensbeard Wildlife Center in Saugerties, N.Y., which came to Rocky’s rescue. The center helped her recover and then released her back into the wild.

One of the book’s coauthors, Ellen Kalish, founded Ravensbeard in 2000. You can watch her set Rocky free in a short video posted on the center’s website. Have a tissue ready. The site offers a line of Rocky merch, too. The famous little owl with the saucer eyes is a fundraising dynamo!

“Owl Moon” won the 1988 Caldecott
Medal for its illustrations and remains
 in print, available in nine languages.
 (courtesy Penguin Random House LLC)

I must say, until now, the only children’s book to consistently enter my thoughts was “Owl Moon,” the 1987 classic by Jane Yolen. You must know it: the tale of father and young daughter who go owling on a snowy, winter night. The words, the story, and illustrations (by John Schoenherr) are picture book perfection.

Yolen has more than 400 children’s books to her credit. She considers “Owl Moon” her best. If you are not familiar, do check it out.

Next month is the Christmas Bird Count, an all-day event that begins with pre-dawn owling. I always think of “Owl Moon” when I’m out there in the cold and dark, not knowing if the effort will be rewarded. As Yolen writes, “When you go owling you don’t need words or warm or anything but hope.”

Copyright 2023 by Jeff Reiter. All rights reserved.

Summer notebook

Limpkins, spoonbills, flamingos, and a really big chicken

(published 9-21-23)

Limpkin by Nat Carmichael

You never forget your first limpkin. Mine was at a lakeside trailer park near St. Petersburg, Fla. A book said limpkins would be there and sure enough they were. That was 1998, when finding the ibis-like wader in the United States, outside of Florida or southern Georgia, was unheard of.

How times change. A limpkin spent most of August and early September dining on fresh-water mussels at Chicago Botanic Garden in Glencoe, Cook County’s first record of the species. Another was spotted near Rockford.

These reports continued a trend that began several years ago. The first Illinois record of limpkin occurred in 2019, near downstate Olney. Second and third sightings followed in 2021, one of them in Lake County.

Limpkins visited a few downstate counties this summer, too, and multiple states. Colorado received its first, as did Pennsylvania. Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Michigan, Minnesota, and Wisconsin also hosted limpkins.

Another large wading bird we associate with Florida, roseate spoonbill, mounted its own Midwest invasion. Sightings at Dixon Waterfowl Refuge (Putnam Co.) and Chautauqua National Wildlife Refuge (Mason Co.) in early August were followed by two reports in Chicagoland, one in Northbrook and another in North Chicago.

Roseate Spoonbill by Jackie Bowman

Birders in Green Bay were shocked by a summering “spoonie” as well, Wisconsin’s second state record of the species. Michigan birders tallied a second state record, in Jackson.

What’s going on? We can’t blame Hurricane Idalia, which did blow some American flamingos northward in late August. Birders scored flamingo lifers in 10 states, including Kentucky, Ohio and Pennsylvania. Remarkable!

But limpkins and spoonbills arrived well before the storm. Did climate change bring them here? We can’t rule it out.

The ranges for many species that we think of as “southern birds” are gradually expanding, shifting, or both. Little blue heron, snowy egret, and red-shouldered hawk are some examples. We are seeing these birds in Illinois more regularly.

It’s always exciting to spot a rarity. But if the reason we are seeing a bird is climate change, well, that’s disturbing. National Audubon Society’s “Survival by Degrees” report claims that by 2080, two-thirds of North American bird species may face unlivable conditions across their current ranges.

Arboretum mockers

Northern mockingbird, despite its name, is all over the South but uncommon in northeast Illinois. I’m still waiting to see one in my yard or at Cantigny Park, the places I bird the most. I’m confident that day will come, as mockingbird is another species on the move.

Northern Mockingbird by Paul Clifford

In June, birders were delighted to discover a pair of mockingbirds at Morton Arboretum in Lisle. The birds nested on the property’s east side and hatched four young. It is believed to be the first record of breeding mockingbirds at the Arb, and maybe even DuPage County.

In recent decades, mockingbirds have successfully expanded their range into the northeast U.S. Their presence in the Midwest is well established and growing. They prefer dense, fruit-bearing shrubs and adapt well to urban settings.

Road tripping

In early August I piloted a rental van to Seattle with my son, Jay, who is starting graduate school at the University of Washington. You can see a lot when crossing 2,000 miles of diverse habitat, and we did.

Greater Prairie Chicken statue in Rothsay, Minn.

A most unexpected sight occurred just off I-94 in Rothsay, Minn.—an 18-foot, 9,000-pound greater prairie chicken! Quite by accident, stopping for gas, we’d entered the Prairie Chicken Capital of Minnesota. Dedicated in 1975, the chicken statue is still in fine shape.

Another fabricated colossus awaited us in Jamestown, N.D. This time our stop was planned—no way we could pass up “The World’s Largest Buffalo.” At 46 feet long and 60 tons, the steel-and-concrete beast, called Dakota Thunder, offered a memorable welcome for two first-time visitors to North Dakota.

Playing ball in Bismarck, N.D.

Needing a baseball fix, we attended the Northwoods League All-Star Game in Bismarck, contested on the home field of the Bismarck Larks. The team mascot is a western meadowlark, the state bird.

I viewed several meadowlarks perching on fenceposts as we cruised west in the loaded-down Pacifica. Far easier to spot were the massive fields of blooming sunflowers. North Dakota leads the nation in sunflower growing and we were passing through at the perfect time.

At the far western end of the state, nearly in Montana, we spent a few hours amid the stunning landscapes of Theodore Roosevelt National Park. The park was a bucket lister for me, but our timing could have been better. We arrived at mid-day with the sun blazing—too late for prime wildlife viewing. Birds were scarce, and even the park’s signature bison herds eluded us.

Backyard reset

In the weeks before the road trip, my backyard was overrun with house sparrows—adult birds and their fast-growing offspring. The pesky non-natives were draining my feeder daily, consuming prodigious quantities of the black-oil sunflower crop that I would soon witness in North Dakota.

Enough already. Before heading out, I took in my feeders and birdbath, gave them a good washing, and left them in the garage to dry. The sparrows would survive, even though I hoped otherwise.

When I got back and rehung the feeders, I was curious how long it would take for the sparrows to return. The answer was about four days. Hummingbirds, however, came back to the nectar feeder almost at once, like they were waiting for it.

I’m experimenting now with refill frequency, letting the sunflower feeder sit empty at times. It seems to help—house sparrow visitation is down. I like to think I’m winning the game, frustrating the greedy little buggers and driving them off to less Grinch-like neighbors.

It’s an illusion, of course. Like squirrels, house sparrows can never really be defeated, and some day they will rule the world. Their annoying presence is the price we pay for attracting the birds we cherish, like cardinals, chickadees and nuthatches. It’s a tradeoff we must live with.

Copyright 2023 by Jeff Reiter. All rights reserved.

Colorado calling

Summer birding tour of the Centennial State delivered unforgettable sightings

(published 7-26-23)

Chestnut-collared Longspur by Tony Dvorak,
Macaulay Library/Cornell Lab of Ornithology

Now and then a trip turns out way better than expected. In June, I took one that did.

I signed up with Colorado Birding Adventures in January. Waiting any longer was risky. Company owner and chief guide Carl Bendorf runs his “Best of Colorado Summer Birding” tour twice a year, always in June, and it sells out. Ten birders per trip, no more.

A month before departure, juicing my anticipation, I changed the screensaver on my phone to a Lewis’s woodpecker, and my laptop wallpaper to a chestnut-collared longspur. Soon, with luck, I’d be seeing these and other birds in Colorado’s grasslands, foothills, mountains, and even some urban environments. Carl’s well-scouted itinerary would take us where the birds are, with emphasis on hard-to-find specialties.

We traveled in two 6-seater vehicles and spent every night at the Fairfield Inn in Longmont, 40 miles north of Denver and 20 miles from Rocky Mountain National Park. When birding all day, it’s nice to stay in the same place. Carl and assistant guide Bill Schmoker live in Longmont, so the logistics worked in their favor, too.

Our first full day of birding took us to Pawnee National Grassland. Target birds here were mountain plover (a declining species with a misleading name), chestnut-collared longspur, thick-billed longspur, and burrowing owl. All were “hiding in plain view” on the wide-open shortgrass prairie, but with Carl’s expertise we found them. Horned lark, lark bunting (Colorado’s state bird) and western meadowlark were everywhere, not hiding at all, and the occasional pronghorn antelope dotted the treeless landscape.

Ptarmigan country: Rocky Mountain National Park

Mountain plover was an exceptional find. The species had eluded Carl’s previous tour, two weeks before ours. As with many grassland birds, plover numbers are declining sharply. The same is true for chestnut-collared longspur and some other birds we’d see in the days ahead, such as pinyon jay and brown-capped rosy finch. Even on a joyful birding romp like ours, the dark cloud of falling bird populations is always there.

We entered Rocky Mountain National Park the next morning full of anticipation. Our goal: white-tailed ptarmigan, a ground-hugging resident of alpine tundra. The park’s Trail Ridge Road led us to Medicine Bow Curve, elevation 11,600 feet.

White-tailed Ptarmigan by Carl Bendorf

From the trailhead, Carl led our bundled up, well-layered party onto the barren, rock-strewn expanse. A ptarmigan is virtually impossible to see unless it moves, and this small chicken-like species is not big on exercise. It blends perfectly with its surroundings.

After a tense 30-minute search, two ptarmigans surrendered their cover, charming us all with close-up looks. The birds initially flew a short distance, aiding our search immensely. We slapped high fives while Carl and Bill breathed sighs of relief. When people depend on you for once-in-a-lifetime birds, guides naturally feel some pressure.

The roll continued 20 minutes later outside the Alpine Visitor Center just up the road. While most of us were using the restrooms or buying souvenirs, Carl and Bill spotted six brown-capped rosy-finches on a patch of snow, about 40 feet below the observation deck.

Brown-capped Rosy-Finch by Carl Bendorf

Seizing the moment, the guides leaped into round-up mode, summoning the birders. We were scattered all over the place, mingling with an overflow crowd of summer tourists. Bill literally called out inside the packed gift shop. To paraphrase, “Birders, drop the merch! Come outside NOW!”

The real gifts could fly away at any moment.

The drill was effective, the group reassembled, and there they were, the rosy-finches, like they’d fluttered down from a heavenly aviary just for us. What a bonus: close views of another cryptic resident of the summer tundra, a species we didn’t really expect to see.

With ptarmigan and rosy-finch in the bag by 10 a.m., we were tempted to exit the park immediately and purchase lottery tickets at the nearest Loaf ‘N Jug.

Moose by Carl Bendorf

Thankfully we stayed because our lucky streak wasn’t over. More interesting birds were ahead but so were some remarkable mammal sightings—a giant American elk walking down the road, dropping the jaws of spectating tourists; a bull moose dining in a pond, submerged up to his neck; and a stealthy Rocky Mountain bighorn sheep high on a hill. By far the rarest sighting was a cinnamon bear, a color-morph of American black bear. Some of us caught a brief glimpse of it just outside the park entrance.

We would return to RMNP on our last day, but first came the Southern Swing, a 400-mile loop beyond Colorado Springs and back home along a raging Arkansas River, and through towns like Canon City, Salida and Buena Vista. It was a long but rewarding day, filled with memorable birds.

In a brushy field of cholla near Pueblo we watched the courtship behavior of the Cassin’s sparrow, a lifer for most of us, and a bird not even on my radar when the trip began.

Our van and SUV creeped around a neighborhood in Salida before finally locating some noisy pinyon jays. Carl knew their address. Mountain and western bluebirds lived on the block, too. A few human residents gave us curious looks.

Lewis's Woodpecker by Carl Bendorf

Lewis’s woodpecker, my phone bird, came next. Again, we were surrounded by houses, this time in Buena Vista. Carl had staked out a nest hole where an adult bird was coming and going, delivering food and taking out the white trash (fecal sacs).

The woodpecker is named after Meriweather Lewis, who collected the type specimen during the Lewis and Clark Expedition (1804-06). I’d wanted to see one quite badly ever since missing my chance in 2019, when for several days a vagrant Lewis’s visited a nature center feeder in downstate Effingham County—the first Illinois record of the species.

Lifers are great, but the Colorado tour produced many birds that I’d only encountered once or twice before. These were special, too:  band-tailed pigeon; broad-tailed hummingbird; golden eagle (two youngsters on a massive cliffside nest); Williamson’s sapsucker; Cordilleran flycatcher; Clark’s nutcracker (yes, that Clark); pygmy nuthatch; American dipper; pine grosbeak; green-tailed towhee; MacGillivray’s warbler; Lazuli bunting; and western tanager.

From left: Bill Schmoker, Jeff Reiter and Carl Bendorf

We tallied 129 species over the five days. A few hoped-for birds eluded us, like scaled quail, ferruginous hawk, and American three-toed woodpecker. But I heard no complaints—not at the end, not all week. Our birding cups were full, our moods Rocky Mountain high.

Returning to the hotel on the last night, Carl said, “It’s good to leave a few birds on the table. If this was easy it wouldn’t be fun.”

He’s right, of course. Best to save a few birds for next time.  

Copyright 2023 by Jeff Reiter. All rights reserved.

Stately symbols

The nation’s roster of state birds is colorful but not so diverse

(published 6-7-23)

I drive with a cardinal on my license plate. It costs a little more but not as much as a plate that says COWBIRD, which I observed last year during a visit to Champaign-Urbana. If the owner of that car is reading, I’d love to hear your story!

These state bird and flower stamps, issued in 1982, were highly
popular. All 50 stamps are unique, but many states share the same bird.

I’m certain brown-headed cowbird was not considered for state bird when Illinois elected the northern cardinal in 1929. (Illinois schoolchildren proposed the redbird in 1928 and the state made it official the following year.)  

Until now I’ve stayed clear of state birds, a hot button for some birdwatchers. We have some strong opinions on the matter. In fact, if birders had their way, the current line-up of state birds would look a lot different.

For starters, the cardinal would not be shared by seven states, western meadowlark by six, and northern mockingbird by five. Only 20 of our 50 states have a unique state bird. With so much avian variety to choose from it seems like we could do better. There are some states where a new state bird makes so much sense.

One is Michigan. The first thing I’d do if I moved there is purchase a Kirtland’s warbler license plate, which became an option in 2022.

Michigan’s state bird, however, is the American robin, chosen in 1931. The Kirtland’s Warbler Alliance is out to change that, and there is currently bipartisan support in the Michigan state legislature to adopt the rare warbler as the official state bird. Doing so would recognize the state’s successful efforts to bring Kirtland’s warbler back from the brink of extinction in the 1980s.

Kirtland's Warbler by Christian Goers

Replacing a state bird is a difficult process, achieved only once before when South Carolina booted the mockingbird in favor of Carolina wren, in 1948. Michigan might just pull it off, and by doing so would be the first state to officially recognize a warbler species—and one that is uniquely tied to the state. Two other states, Connecticut and Wisconsin, would still have the robin.

There are at least three good reasons why seven states celebrate the cardinal. It’s common, brightly colored, and non-migratory. In other words, the bird is accessible. Anybody can see it, everybody knows it.  

Kirtland’s warbler passes the color test but finding one takes effort. Their primary breeding range is a small section of northern Michigan (lower peninsula), and in the fall and winter they live in the Bahamas. Most Michiganders will never experience a Kirtland’s warbler unless they seek it out.

Must a state bird be conspicuous and familiar? Or may other factors such as local history, conservation success and geographic uniqueness win the day? Michigan legislators may soon have the answer. Keep an eye on H.B. 6382.

In 2010, some Illinois birders floated the idea of changing the state bird to red-headed woodpecker. Bob Fisher, president of the Illinois Ornithological Society at the time, asked a fair question: “Wouldn’t it be nice if the state bird was more representative of what the state was like when it was founded?”

“When Illinois was being settled, you could spot the red-headed woodpecker along the creeks and rivers, whereas you would have been hard pressed to find a cardinal,” Fisher added.

Indeed, despite the moniker “northern cardinal,” our familiar redbird was primarily a southern species in the 1800s. Its northward range expansion occurred in the last century.

Red-headed Woodpecker by Jeff Reiter

The native roots issue aside, red-headed woodpecker is in decline and needs conservation. Making it the state bird, birders argued, would bring it needed attention.

Alas, the grass-roots effort earned some publicity before falling flat. The beloved cardinal was untouchable.

None of the seven cardinal states are considering a change. But just for fun, the Cornell Lab of Ornithology recently conducted a “thought experiment” using eBird data to select alternative birds of honor. With eBird, Cornell’s self-serve database based on millions of citizen-science records, researchers can estimate the frequency of any bird species in any state.  Cornell’s analysis identified a logical bird for every state, 50 different species.

For Illinois, the eBird choice is indigo bunting, a blue beauty found in every county during spring and summer. Data show that 6.9% of the global population breeds here, the third highest of any state.

I especially like eBird’s selection for Indiana, another redbird state. Cornell said sandhill crane would be a proper choice, given that Indiana hosts the second most cranes in winter and during spring migration. Birders know to visit Jasper-Pulaski Fish and Wildlife Area in the late fall to see the biggest annual crane gathering east of the Mississippi River.

Sandhill crane would be a nice choice for Nebraska, too—a chance for the Cornhusker state to break out of the western meadowlark cluster.

Finally, a confession: When I dove into this subject, I found it hard not to be judgmental. I was looking for mismatches and undeserving state birds. That was a mistake.

The eBird exercise showed that better choices may exist. But the current roster of state birds needn’t be viewed with disdain. All are worthy, all chosen for a reason.

A few even come with a good story. I learned, for example, that Utah picked “sea gull” because it saved the state from swarms of crop-damaging crickets in 1848. More than 100 years later, Utah clarified its choice as California gull, a species found in big numbers around the Great Salt Lake.

I do wish that every state had its own bird. Only 20 can make that claim, and hopefully Michigan will make it 21. Talk about a good story: the case for Kirtland’s warbler is too compelling to ignore. If Michigan gets it done, other states might take a harder look at their own state bird choices.

Copyright 2023 by Jeff Reiter. All rights reserved.