I subscribe to the Rare Bird Alert from eBird and I sometimes wonder why considering I skip the vast majority of alerts I receive. I really do not care to chase a lot of North American birds that are just not abundant in California. Nonetheless, I of course check it routinely while bored at work. There have been a lot of opportunities this fall except many were a 40 minute drive away making them easy skips. So when one was less than a mile from my work this week, I could not resist the opportunity.
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Monday after work I went to a park in Tustin in hopes to spot the Clay-colored Sparrow that showed up a few days prior. Along with it has been a Brewer’s Sparrow associating with a larger group of Chipping Sparrows.
I arrived around 3pm greeted by a sunny and warm fall afternoon. Fortunately, almost immediately I spotted a group of Chipping Sparrows but no immediate luck with the Clay-colored Sparrow who all fled to the safety of the trees after being a bit spooked by my arrival. Assuming if I spent some time on a nearby bench, the birds would settle and return to their feeding amongst the fallen leaves on the ground. This proved correct!
As I scanned the grass and fallen leaves I saw some House Finches and Chipping Sparrows and came across one of the rare migrants in the area, the Brewer’s Sparrow who was reported often associating with the Clay-colored Sparrow at this park. Unfortunately I could not find the Clay-colored Sparrow! Nonetheless, I had my first nice photos of a Brewer’s Sparrow, a bird I have far more often heard than seen while in the Mojave Desert, a place I have found quite reliable for coming across the species.
I decided to try looking in another portion of the park and came across a sprinkler system was leaking. Here I came across again, the Brewer’s Sparrow and several other common species to the area enjoying the plentiful water that was pooling.
The big highlight at this spot was in the tree above. Below is the first ever adult male Vermilion Flycatcher I have ever seen! I have seen this species 5 times prior, but have only seen adult females, an immature male, and an immature female. A real treat to see this gorgeous bird.
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I gave up, fairly satisfied with a unique outing for the area, but figured I would try again the next day if a report came in during the morning of the Clay-colored Sparrow. Fortunately for me, one did! I arrived around the same time on Tuesday, once more greeted with another sunny, warm mid-October Southern California day, and repeated my strategy to locate the Chipping Sparrows and try and pick out the Clay-colored Sparrow. Today I came across the Chipping Sparrows quickly and once more, spotted the Brewer’s Sparrow but again, no Clay-colored Sparrow! Frustrating! Felt like I was going to have an identical outing as yesterday.
I decided to start heading out of the park, but slowly scanned around repeating my strategy as I headed for the exit. As is a common theme in my posts, right at the exit for the park as I succumbed to defeat, I stumbled across a couple more Chipping Sparrows in the fallen leaves. I looked through the small birds that, in the tall grass, hid exceptionally well within the fallen autumn-colored leaves. Then a pair of parkgoers walked by and flushed all the birds into the trees. In the tree directly next to me was a pale looking sparrow and to my joy, was my target! A phenomenal look at the Clay-colored Sparrow! Not even obscured by leaves or branches! The bird had a face pattern that really captured my interest. I loved the contrasting dark line running behind its eye and the malar stripe around its cheek. Sparrows can be so frustrating for me to identify in the field, but when side-by-side and so clearly seen, their unique features really begin to stand out.
A great half-hour detour on the way home from work!
And that’s the story of my first Clay-colored Sparrow (#493)!
El Nino, migration, and a change of plans
October 10 2026, Dana Point, California
I always keep an eye on the weather. Meteorology and climatology is something I have had a lot of interest in since childhood and throughout college where I took two climate courses. Thus, I was acutely aware of the developing El Nino early this year and hoped to take a pelagic trip to take advantage of the unique conditions this year.
And this El Nino has delivered. This summer and early fall has been unlike any other I have experienced in California. An abnormally warm, and quite humid summer, followed by a fall that began with the outskirts of a tropical system bringing rain, its aftermath bringing exceptionally hot late September and early October temperatures. All the while, very intense coastal conditions with sinister waves have persisted most of the year keeping the beaches ever changing.
With the warm ocean off our coast, we have also been treated to many unique species. Tropical species have been showing up in droves, and in the avian world, this has included a plethora of storm-petrels and boobies. I have been fortunate enough on several 2 hour whale watch trips to see many Black Storm-Petrel, Ashy Storm-Petrel, a Least Storm-Petrel, an unidentified white-rumped Storm-Petrel, but much to my dismay, not a single booby.
However, due to wedding planning throughout spring and most of summer, I have had no opportunities to venture far offshore on a pelagic birding tour, something I so badly wished to do since I got word of the early developments of El Nino. As the season has neared an end, my only remaining opportunity would be a trip on Sunday October, 11 out of Ventura. I booked it and have been eagerly awaiting it for weeks now.
Then came the week of October 4. A tropical system off the coast of Mexico was modeled to take a turn and head straight towards Baja California and Southern California, its remnants forcast to reach our coast around Sunday, October, 11, the day of the pelagic. Each day of the week only strengthened this forecast and by midweek, as the weather apps increasingly showed certainty of rain, the NWS issued advisories, and the reality of the situation became clear, sure enough, the cancellation email hit my inbox.
I was bummed! This is only the second ever tropical system to veer California’s way in my lifetime, so why the day of my much awaited pelagic tour? This feeling quickly passed as with a tropical system approaching, this at least brought potential for unique opportunities to observe potential storm blown birds instead.
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Saturday the 11th brought a drastic change in the weather. No longer sunny and hot, we were greeted by far cooler temperatures, clouds, and some gusty winds in the morning. You could feel the oncoming weather event as post-tropical storm Rachel made its approach. I booked a noon tour for the local whale watching company with hopes to see anything special moving ahead of the storm.
The check-in at the office warned of very choppy conditions and recommended taking preparations for seasickness. I am blessed to have been on many a rocking boat in the ocean some dozens upon dozens of times, and have never had any issues outside of sea-wooziness as opposed to seasickness, so I was unconcerned. That would be a minor mistake.
Cruising out of the harbor, immediately the seas were rough by Southern California standards. Choppy, with fairly large swells. The passenger count was pretty low, so I got a spot at front of the empty bow and tried with difficulty to balance as the boat bounced up and down while aiming my 400mm lens at Black-vented Shearwaters gliding across the swells with the lift of the high winds.
In the distance, a humpback whale breached the surface, then again, and again. A sight that would repeat over a dozen times. The boat raced out to the humpback and we had the opportunity to witness this fascinating behavior up close. In addition to breaches, the whale tail slapped, belly flopped, and occasionally showed off its fluke before longer dives.
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Having personally completed a satisfactory viewing of the whale, I turned my attention to birds, taking note of every distant bird I could have a look at. I got lucky quite early and saw my ‘second’ ever Sabine’s Gull! First one spotted on my own at that. I had previously seen several on a summer 2025 pelagic tour out of San Diego, but this was my first of this year. Horrendous photo, but easy to see the signature black and white pattern of the species top side of wing.
The boat continued north following the whale, cruising about 2.5-3 miles off Dana Point for the next hour. A few other bird species were spotted including a distant Red-necked Phalarope and a Common Loon, the latter my first of fall.
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As the deadline to turn back towards the harbor quickly approached, a Guadalupe Fur Seal was spotted ahead of the boat. My second one ever, as well as second of the year, but first proper viewing and photo. A very pleasant end to the whale observation.
As the boat had been moving slowly and into the swell for the better part of the last 90 minutes, I had finally come down with a tad bit of sea-wooziness. Of the 18 or so onboard, about a dozen had succumbed to seasickness, emptying the front of the bow. Not the typical pleasant conditions typically off of Dana Point. I asked for a few ginger chews and whether placebo, or chemistry, all I know is it did the trick and I enjoyed the return to the harbor back on the bow as the boat continued to sway with the seas.
As I chatted with the few in front of the boat, immediately I was drawn to a small tern flying north, just to the west of the boat. The expected species nearshore here are typically Royal and Elegant Terns, with the occasional Forster’s, and even less common, Common Tern. This one was smaller than both the expected, so I immediately put all my attention at nailing an identifiable photo of the small white bird quickly approaching and soon to be departing. I remember exclaiming ‘what in the world is that!?’, the deckhand going ‘it’s a tern’ to which I laughed and replied something along the lines of, I know that, but what species??
Photo review showed a small tern (medium by global standards, but small compared to the common local species)and immediately I recognized the beauty as my long awaited Arctic Tern! Arctic Terns are unique in having the longest migration of any animal, going from north polar region to south polar region each year chasing an endless summer. They are typically seen far off-shore, and only during migration so what an absolute treat to see one so close to home.
Initially I noticed the small rounded head and a short, dark bill, coupled with long tail streamers. The bird shows black stretching around the back of the crown, as well as a dark carpal bar, all separating it from the common local species of Elegant and Royal Terns, which are bigger in body size and have orange bills, and Forster’s Tern, which does not have black extending behind the crown.
An Elegant Tern (left) and Royal Tern (right) from the outing for comparison:
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After the excitement of the Arctic Tern, we came across another common sight this El Nino, a Pacific Flying Fish. Another interesting sight as the outer rain bands began falling on us on the ride home.
As the cruise was wrapping up and heading into the harbor, I spotted my fourth species of tern on the day, a Common Tern! The best part of this sighting was seeing it on the same day as the Arctic Tern. This species has a strong resemblance to the Arctic Tern, as both species are members of the genus Sterna. This allowed for a great side by side comparison of two birds seen in the same lighting conditions. This Common Tern, a species I saw for the first time only in August of this year, was now the fifth observation of the species for me, a ‘rare’ bird for California I have been seeing with some regularity this fall migration.
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This weekend began with a bummer from a cancellation, but the new plans resulted in a wonderful day with an entertaining Humpback Whale, a Guadalupe Fur Seal, Pacific Flying Fish, and three bird migrants rare to Southern California including a Sabine’s Gull, an Arctic Tern, and a Common Tern. Were these birds brought close to shore in part due to the storm to the southwest? Or just a lucky day on the water? Who knows, but seems the cliche words of wisdom of do not wait for the storm to pass, but rather learn to dance in the rain proved annoyingly true this weekend.
I rescheduled the pelagic for October 31 anyway.
And that’s the story of my first Arctic Tern(#492)!
Personal thoughts heading down highway 395
May 24 & 25, 2026 – Eastern Sierra Nevada and Lake Tahoe
High up in the White Mountains in eastern California on a quiet, dusty trail I heard the sound of a bird I never had previously. My Merlin app gave a sound ID of a Gray Flycatcher. I scanned around and spotted it, perhaps 50 meters away atop a tree. I went scurrying after it, but it kept moving from tree to tree, darting in random order, never allowing a proper look at it. A few minutes of this and eventually it flew out of sight.
I was frustrated! I love to capture photos, especially since a still image or series of images really allows you to notice things the eyes cannot. It is literally capturing light and time, converting it forever into a photograph. Truly one of the incredible marvels of the world. So whenever I see a new bird, I love having a little piece of evidence I can document to help solidify the memory, a little window into the past to see the photons my eyes and camera sensor captured.
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I got into birds at a young age. My grandparents eventually purchased me the National Geographic Field Guide to Birds of North America third edition in 2006. Inside I wrote under each species the first place and date I saw them. I have some vivid memories from back then of a few, like the first Great Blue Heron I ever saw. It was flying overhead while on a boat on Payette Lake in Idaho, giant fish were below seen through the crystal clear mountain water. I was absolutely enthralled by the scenery and then this giant grayish-blue bird soared overhead. I know with certainty to this day what I saw. I open the book and see my poorly written pencil markings under the species, ‘Seen in Mcall, Idaho on lake Payette on July 20, 2006.’
On the other hand, I also have scribbled into my book under Little Blue Heron, ‘San Diego California flying across Sea World, September 3, 2006’, I no doubt mistaking a Snowy Egret with the juvenile plumage illustrated in the book for the Little Blue Heron.
Thirteen years later, and a year prior to purchasing my camera and lens, we went to Costa Rica. I kept a list on my phone of the birds we saw on that trip. Despite being 25 years old, far more knowledgeable about birds compared to when i was 12 scribbling away in my guide book, I sort of have the same problem looking back at my notes as I did when I was far younger. I have vivid memory of the Scarlet Macaws and Yellow-throated Toucans (these two which I have phone photos of for what it is worth), as well as strong memory of seeing Mangrove Swallows and Amazon Kingfisher, but I have no recollection of seeing the Scarlet-rumped Tanager I have listed. This species, like the majority on the list, was pointed out to us while on a guided crocodile turned private birding boat tour. Did we actually see this bird? Can I be assured the person pointing out birds to us was completely correct? I think so at least.
With that said, last year while on a pelagic birding trip in New Zealand for albatrosses, the captain marked ‘Hutton’s Shearwater’ on our list. Upon looking at my photos, I am fairly certain they were the very similar looking Fluttering Shearwater. Perhaps I just missed the Hutton’s, and the captain the Fluttering? Maybe its a mis-ID on my end. Regardless, I sit with Scarlet-rumped Tanager on my list today and with Hutton’s Shearwater off of it.
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About an hour after seeing the Gray Flycatcher we arrived at the Ancient Bristlecones grove. Here I got another ‘lifer.’ This time, another new sound, a Dusky Flycatcher. I did not see this one at all. This sort of raises the question, should heard only birds count? I say absolutely, no matter how frustrating it can be to not spot the bird, assuming confidence in identifying the call.
Sound after all can be just, if not more memorable than sight. I will always recall the first time I ever heard a Common Poorwill while sleeping in a remote campground at Great Basin National Park. Its haunting song caused me to stir awake in the pitch black night. I fell in love with the song of another bird I did not know when I was around 13 years old mountain biking in the local wilderness on many weekends. Years later I learned it was that of the White-crowned Sparrow, a bird I saw for the first time years later, that to this day remains my favorite local winter bird song.
And how many birds are named after their call or song? Do you really get to count a Killdeer if you only see, but never hear its namesake call? In 2025 I heard several distant Morepork while in New Zealand, the owls’ calls of ‘more pork, more pork’ over and over the only sounds heard outside of the wind and our footsteps. Very memorable despite never seeing the birds.
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On the way back out of the White Mountains towards the Owens Valley, we stopped at a nice view of the Sierra Nevada. Here I spotted my first, and long time target bird, a Green-tailed Towhee (#440)! A welcome sighting after poor luck seeing not just the new flycatchers, but really any birds at all thus far today.
We wound up at Mono Lake several hours later, and on the gravel road down to the southern shore’s tufa towers I saw a bird perched on top of the Sagebrush that surrounds the lake. A very far away look at a Sage Thrasher (#441)! Pretty lousy photographs, and too distant to hear the bird over the wind, but a new sighting and photo nonetheless.
The next day we were in Lake Tahoe. We had another new bird, this one also heard only, a Fox Sparrow. Later, another bird we had a nice look at was a Common Merganser. I had a few months prior seen my first Common Merganser, two females near my home. Today however, was my ‘lifer’ male of the species. How does seeing a different version of the species factor into the lifer topic? Some species I have only seen the male instead of the female or vice versa, or even only an immature rather than an adult as was the case with Bald Eagles for many years.
How about seeing a bird species only in its non-breeding plumage or just its breeding plumage? The first Red-necked Phalarope I saw was bobbing in a small patch of water on the beach, primarily white with a touch of black around its head. The bird had no red on it anywhere. I did not see my first in breeding plumage until many years later, when hundreds were migrating while on a pelagic boat tour in early May 2026. Guess these were my ‘lifer’ Red-necked Phalarope so to speak?
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Shortly after seeing the Common Mergansers, we had another ‘standard lifer’, a Townsend’s Solitaire (#445), and what a beauty! The sleek gray bird looked amazing in the bright midday mountain sunshine. Probably the highlight of the weekend!
Later, in town, we took a short walk on the south shore of Lake Tahoe. I used to live around here in 2016, spending the summer working at the resort as a zip-line guide. We immediately saw a familiar sight, a Black-billed Magpie! This is also a ‘lifer’ for me, well according to my eBird list anyway, as I would not learn of the website or app until a couple of years after living here. Therefore I never logged the magpie, plus never knowing the date or precise locations I had seen them. Just as notably for this trip was a Yellow-headed Blackbird, a species I also saw in 2019 somewhere in southern Oregon or far far northern California, but was a fresh ‘lifer’ to my list on this same trip to Tahoe while driving through Bridgeport, California the day prior.
Certainly this is a minor problem for my ‘lifer’ list. I have certainly seen more birds in the Midwest and east coast during childhood that have never made it to my ‘lifer’ list, most notably a Northern Cardinal.
As we drove the long drive down highway 395 towards home, I began to reflect on the birds we saw this trip and what I have seen to this point during my life. Being a bit frustrated about not seeing or photographing the two flycatchers in the White Mountains or the Fox Sparrow near Lake Tahoe, I was thinking, what exactly is a lifer? It is really quite silly at the end of the day to care too much, but an immature Bald Eagle with its brown head is just as much a Bald Eagle as the adult whose plumage it gets its name after. A Red-necked Phalarope seen in September without a hint of red is just as unique and interesting as its spring and summer plumage. A female Hooded Oriole, lacking the hooded plumage of the male Hooded Oriole, again, is just as much an interesting bird to see. And finally, hearing and identifying a bird is just as much an observation as seeing and identifying one.
No matter how silly my thoughts of what constitutes a lifer, just like I keep track of all baseball games I attend, I of course keep a list of birds I have seen. However, I have two criteria for the list I care most about, counting only native and vagrant birds, and only birds I am certain I saw or heard but did not document. I keep a second list of birds I have photographed, which is displayed under Bird Map.
Most importantly, I think it is important to remember birds are far more than just a check on a list. While fun to keep track of what has been seen, nothing rekindles my excitement of birding like witnessing and understanding better the behavior of birds, and to see a familiar species do something new. I would argue there is even more excitement in seeing a species the second time, or once more after a long time between sightings. There too, is so much joy in the returning of migratory birds, hearing their familiar songs that help craft the soundscape of the seasons, helping the mind note the passage of time. Really the true enjoyment of birding is continuously learning about every species, and enjoying seeing each and every one of them each and every time, something no ‘lifer’ list or photograph can ever fully capture.
And that’s the story of my first Gray Flycatcher (#438)!
