It’s been a month and a half since I updated the world on the progress of my Thoreauvian Big Year. If you haven’t been following along, don’t know what a Thoreauvian Big Year is, and for some reason can’t find the term on Wikipedia (some reason such as “I made it up”), let me recap: this year I am keeping a tally of the bird species I see (a “year list”), making extra efforts to see more (“a big year”), but doing so solely within the radius of a 10-mile journey from home, travelling only by foot or bike (a “Thoreauvian”). The inspiration for this notion – and indeed, for this blog – came from the following assertions by old HDT:
1. The range of a day’s walk offers inexhaustible novelty.
An absolutely new prospect is a great happiness, and I can still get this any afternoon . . . There is in fact a sort of harmony discoverable between the capabilities of the landscape within a circle of ten miles’ radius, or the limits of an afternoon walk, and the threescore years and ten of human life. It will never become quite familiar to you.
– “Walking”
2. High velocity transportation is an expensive distraction when it comes to seeing things.
One says to me, “I wonder that you do not lay up money; you love to travel; you might take the cars and go to Fitchburg today and see the country.” But I am wiser than that. I have learned that the swiftest traveller is he that goes afoot. I say to my friend, Suppose we try who will get there first. The distance is thirty miles; the fare ninety cents. That is almost a day’s wages. . . . Instead of going to Fitchburg, you will be working here the greater part of the day. And so, if the railroad reached round the world, I think that I should keep ahead of you; and as for seeing the country and getting experience of that kind, I should have to cut your acquaintance altogether.
– Walden, “Economy”
So how’s it been going recently?
Pretty swimmingly. As intended, my bird sightings have picked up, while I have slowed down. Not only am I seeing additional species with which I was poorly acquainted or that I had never seen before so close to home, I’m also passing more days and hours out in the field and therefore seeing a greater volume of birds. This is in part a result of the extra motivation that comes from having a fun scoreboard, publically reported to you and the bird store staff, but also the consequence of reducing merely instrumental travel time. If your goal is to see a lot of birds, without a top priority of absolutely maximizing your species count, you are undoubtedly better off just heading out your door with your binoculars, rather than spending an hour or two of your available birding time just driving to and from your destination.
As to the second anticipated result of “slowing me down,” that has definitely come to pass as well as I found myself increasingly suffused in the Thoreauvian ethos. Most notably, I sold my car. “A man is rich in proportion to the number of things he can afford to let alone.” Indeed. Have I been suffering from geographic deprivation, landlocked provincialism, or inconvenient shopping? Not that I’ve noticed. (I did notice my cold, wet feet on rainy biking days, but I got some $10 zip-up shoe covers and now everything is peachy.) The real change is that I’ve been walking more, biking more, and increasing my daily ration of birds, trees, and fresh air, with predictably severe benefits to my physical, mental, and spiritual well-being.
Ah, you thought I was going to update you on how many birds species I’ve seen? Right.
Thoreauvian Big Year as of April 18, 2018: 168 species
I was at 142 at the beginning of March, so I’ve added a solid 26 species in the last six weeks or so. At that kind of rate of four species per week, with another 37 weeks or so to go, a mathematically astute but ornithologically illiterate person might expect another 148 species for a year end total of 316. Not going to happen. What we’re seeing here is the impact of spring migration, resulting in a major influx of new bird species in March and April. Unfortunately, spring doesn’t last for ever, and there are only a handful of regular, “sure thing” migrants yet to arrive. That means that I’m about to hit a wall, that 20-species months will be a thing of the past, and that getting another 32 species to reach the Big 200 will require continued and perhaps increased effort throughout the remaining eight months.
With that said, what are the 26 new species I’ve found recently? What spring birds can you see now in Novato? What reasonably common birds did I finally nail down after months of unreasonable elusiveness on their parts? And where are the special hotspots of our area that hide the uncommon, range-restricted, habitat-specialist birds that most casual birdwatchers don’t know about? Let me tell you.
Spring Migrants
Here’s where over half (15 out of 28) of my new species came from. You might notice that this is a lot smaller than the contributions of “winter only” birds to my overall list. That’s true: in a mild climate of year-round abundance, we get a huge diversity of birds coming down from the north to spend the winter with us, including most of our ducks and most of our shorebirds, as well as some raptors and songbirds. What we get in summer is a smaller group of predominantly insect-eating songbirds who nest here, but spend their winter in Mexico or Central and South America: the neotropical migrants.
The first two swallows, tree and violet-green, overwinter in small numbers and then grow common in February. In March, the other three – cliff, barn, and rough-winged swallows – also became abundant in open areas, often near water and its insects, such as the Hamilton Wetlands and Las Gallinas. The chunky-billed Caspian terns also show up in spring near water: I saw a big group of them out at Hamilton, and they will also be summer regulars at Stafford Lake.
The rest of the spring migrants were found in forests, woodlands, and grasslands. Like many birders, I concentrated a good chunk of my winter nature time around ponds and wetlands. Now, as the waterbirds head north, we move inland to the forests and oak savannahs. More densely wooded areas like Indian Tree and Indian Valley are now filled with the songs of orange-crowned warblers, warbling vireos, pacific-slope flycatchers, and Wilson’s warblers. Drier grasslands with scattered oaks such as found at Mount Burdell and Big Rock Ridge attract ash-throated flycatchers, Bullock’s orioles, and western kingbirds (the easiest place to see these last two is probably Stafford Lake).
Those are all more or less insect-eating specialists. We also have some summer sparrows, who eat both insects and seeds, including lark sparrows, grasshopper sparrows, and chipping sparrows. These three can all be found in an extraordinarily rich area of Mount Burdell near the intersection of Middle Burdell and Deer Camp Fire Roads (lark and chipping near the trees; grasshoppers out in the middle of the fields somewhere out of sight). Lastly, our other oriole, the hooded oriole, moves into residential neighborhoods with palm trees for nesting.
Birds That Had Eluded Me
I’m still picking up winter or resident birds that I had failed to record in January or February: green heron, osprey, brown-headed cowbird, and long-billed dowitcher (rather than just the imprecise “dowitcher sp.”) are now safely in the books. And there are still some more birds in this category out there. Most irksome perhaps is my unexpected failure to see a single golden or bald eagle since I began this counting business.
Special Finds and Habitat Specialists
The above were all pretty well expected, mostly easy to find birds that only needed the turning of the seasons to deliver them into my hands. The most interesting tales though, are of the birds that needed a little work to see, that are restricted to small local patches of easily overlooked habitat, or that were located through fortuitous combinations of friendly tips and accommodating fortune. Of course, the standard rule of birding applies: if you want to have good luck, spend more time looking for the unexpected.
Spotted Sandpiper (#143, March 6 at Stafford Lake) I discussed these endearing tail-bobbers at length in my profile of Stafford Lake, by far our most notable location for these birds. Elsewhere in the county and Bay Area, I think they are most common on rocky shorelines of the bay, one habitat that we do lack here in Novato.
Pacific Wren (#148, March 16 at Indian Tree) This is the common wren in conifer forests, such as found at Point Reyes or around Mt. Tam. Here, we have one criminally underappreciated forest preserve at Indian Tree, which offers many of the same rewards closer to home. Take the meadow trail right from the trailhead, go down to the creek among the redwoods, ferns, and big-leaf maples and listen for the exuberant bubbling songs of this diminutive wren, as well as the high ethereal fluting of hermit thrushes.
Wood Duck (#151, March 18 in Novato Creek by the library) A friend had been telling me about the pair of wood ducks (the most spectacular duck in North America, if you’re not familiar with them) that she had been seeing for some weeks from her home on Vineyard Creek off Novato Blvd. I diligently went and visited the area on several occasions, fruitlessly. After a few weeks of this, and losing hopes of seeing them, I was passing over the nice little footbridge by the library, when lo and behold, there they were. I tried to interest the little kid watching the mallards, but he didn’t seem to understand my jubilance.
Palm Warbler (#154, March 20 at Las Gallinas) Another recommendation – it helps in this big year business if you can tap into the knowledge and sightings of others. These uncommon warblers pop up in low numbers each winter; when this one was seen at Las Gallinas and reported on eBird, I followed up a few days later, paid extra attention to an area I otherwise might have overlooked, and found it.
Rufous-crowned Sparrow (#157, March 30 in chaparral on Big Rock Ridge) A shy resident of the chaparral, which I had seen elsewhere but never realized was a year-round resident within walking distance from home until some general poking around on eBird revealed their presence somewhere on Big Rock Ridge (they are certainly under-reported here since it’s a lightly-birded area and they are often hard to see). It still took a little work, with two visits seeking out appropriate habitat and some patient observation, but now I know my home turf a little better.
Horned Lark (#159, March 30 in high grasslands on Big Rock Ridge) Not that many people go birding on Big Rock Ridge, in part because it takes some climbing to get up there. That’s especially true of the higher hills, where grasslands fill with spring flowers and scattered rock outcroppings. It’s a habitat that’s low in people, but rich in certain birds, such as the horned lark I found near the summit, where the songs of meadowlarks filled the sky.
Blue-winged Teal (#162, April 5 at Hamilton Wetlands) After wrapping up the regular volunteer survey of the wetlands restoration project, we were on our way back to base discussing the various less common birds that sometimes pop up at this time of year. Then one of them popped up. In fact, two did, with a male and female blue-winged teal together in a smaller pond, generously offering patient views at gratifyingly close quarters.
The Thoreauvian Big Year
- Introduction: How many birds can I find in a year within 10 miles of my Novato home, without using a car? I kick off the Thoreauvian Big Year.
- Late January Update: The easy resident and wintering birds pour in – along with a few surprises – among the highlights of the first 115 species. What local sites should you visit in January if you want to see more birds?
- March Update: I climb to 142 species, wrapping up most of the common winter birds and seeing the first signs of spring as we pass through February.
- April Update: Spring ramps up and I work harder to find some special birds.
- July Update: Spring winds down with some of our most spectacular migrants.
- October Update: Fall migration passes south and I begin to think creatively about how to reach 200 species.
- Conclusion: Did I make it? What were the highlights? What did I learn? Why would someone undertake a Thoreauvian Big Year again?
Header montage: Wood duck by Jerry McFarland, Palm Warbler by Dave Inman, Horned Lark by Gregory Smith.