Spirit of the Forest

This 3-year old buck lay peacefully on the bank of Muddy Creek as I crossed the foot-bridge. Clearly aware of me, he chose not to give up his shady spot on this september day of lingering summer heat. It could not be more clear to me that I must walk by a good many animals without noticing them. If the only ones you notice are the ones who flee, you might form the notion that animals always run when a human approaches, and end up not even looking for the ones who stay still all around...

Fern Ridge, post-Spotted Redshank

Fern Ridge is a bit like Mecca. The faithful have to go there once in their lifetime. And so every fall shorebirds and birders both migrate there, each intent on fulfilling the requirements of their respective biological callings; in the case of the former the urge to live and pass on the genetic underpinnings of their species, and in the case of the latter the need to satisfy a fanatical compulsion to chase small balls of feathers for the sake of extending their life list.

When a Spotted Redshank was seen there this summer, the place reportedly took on the feeling of a rock festival. Such an atmosphere might be to the liking of an Alice Cooper fan (the rocker, no relation to the accipiter), but not everyone at Fern Ridge was thrilled: "we were surrounded! You just couldn't enjoy a benthic invertebrate in the quiet and privacy of your favorite mudflat", Greater Yellowlegs told COTW. Sharing this view was Wilson's Phalarope: "being admired by the odd seasoned connoisseur once in a while is one thing I don't object to, but I swear some of these people were in such haste they didn't bother to study their field-guides before coming; one person even tried to throw some bread at me!".

With enthusiastic bipeds lining the shores and practically beating the bush for a glimpse at the second ever record of a Spotted Redshank in Oregon, one American Bittern felt it necessary to have a word with the Redshank about her alarm at being seen by so many people. "I try to hide, and methinks I do a pretty good job of it " (stands erect with beak pointing to the sky and sways with the reeds, practically vanishing before my gaze) "but you can only muster so much invisibility with 5 scopes trained on you; I had to ask them to leave in the hope of keeping the peace around here".

The Alliance of European-American Birds, headed up by Starling and House Sparrow, noted meanwhile that although the sudden interest in a European bird is encouraging, it should not overshadow the difficulty some Euro birds have in reaching the hearts of American birders. "Look at Eurasian Collared-Dove; there's no impromptu rock festival when they show up on the block".



While COTW did not send a reporter on site at the time of the Spotted Redshank phenomenon (too busy learning to distinguish Western and Least Sandpipers!), these interviews were recorded during a later visit on August 25th. Below are some pictures from this excursion.

Greater Yellowlegs

Stilt Sandpiper next to a preening Western Sandpiper

Stilt Sandpiper again, pretty rare!

Juvenile Purple Martins

The elusive Virginia Rail

The common and majestic Great Blue Heron

The Black-and-Yellow Garden Spider (Argiope aurantia)

Complete checklists:
http://ebird.org/ebird/view/checklist?subID=S11445505
http://ebird.org/ebird/view/checklist?subID=S11445525

Flycatcher Beak Count

Flycatchers sometimes get a bad wrap for being troublesome secretive little brown birds with no distinguishing marks. Nothing could be farther from the truth! Yamhill county has 5 species in two very distinctive genera: Empidonax (the little guys) and Contopus (the big guys). Recognizing them should be no trouble to the casual observer with a few characters in mind (their respective dialects are also unmistakable by ear).

So far Hammond's Flycatcher and Olive-Sided Flycatcher have eluded my birding forays and camera lens in Yamhill county, but here's a review of our other Flycatchers.

Pacific-Slope Flycatcher: boasting a prominent white eye-ring and fashionable bi-colored beak, this is the ubiquitous Empidonax flycatcher west of the Rockies. Often heard calling a full hour before sunrise in spring and early summer, they easily get the palm for earliest riser among the songbirds (though Swainson's Thrushes are serious contenders for that distinction).

Willow Flycatcher: less common than the Pacific-Slope and restricted mainly to its namesake shrub, this flycatcher sports a broad, pale bill and a white underside. Generally detected first by its "fitz-bew" call.

Western Wood-Pewee: among the Tyrant Flycatchers, which are larger than the two Empidonax flycatchers above, this flycatcher is very noticeable with a far-carrying call and striking sallies from perches in pursuit of insects (a behavior known as "hawking"). August has been a very busy time for Wood-Pewees, and the little fellas below are the reason why...

Hungry Wood-Pewee babies! They need all the insects they can get before they can migrate to South America for winter.