29 October 2016

Grey Day…YELLOWSTONE, USA (11 Oct.)

The colour of this day in Yellowstone was undoubtedly grey, but that is not to say it was dull; far from it. Having spent considerable time unsuccessfully probing sites from Canyon to Bridge Bay for Great Grey Owl the day before, this then became our raison d’etre for this day. While we were unreservedly grateful for having seen one a few days before, and the views had been unquestionably good, they were cut short when the owl took off earlier than we’d hoped, leaving us yearning deeply for more. We set off in chilly conditions back to the forest meadows near Canyon. Having found no sign of the “Grey Ghost” at the first meadow, we walked deeper into the woods, hoping to find it perched inside instead, and a known hangout for the species. This method failed too, and so Nick Athanas and I worked our way along the road to the next set of meadows. This constituted two meadows dissected by the road that runs through the park. I took one side of the road, while Nick took the other. I had barely worked my way down into “my” meadow, when I heard Nick’s raised voice summoning me from the other side. I hurried across the road and was quickly by Nick’s side, staring at an impressive grey shape perched on a precarious snag, which appeared barely capable of bearing the weight of this large beast. 
Great Grey Owls are reputed to be fearless, something that was not evident from our previous sighting, but became apparent over the next two hours when we watched it showing absolutely no signs of anxiety from the comings and goings of various people reacting to a small crowd gathered in a roadside meadow, and then reacting more lucidly to the owl itself. As we viewed this magnificent owl within clear view of passers by, it did not take long for a small crowd to gather in its wake, which enjoyed watching it while snow fell gently around it, making it a sight to behold. However, once the owl moved into the woods behind, the throng soon disbanded, and after finding it sitting imperially within the forest, we had it all to ourselves for as long as we wanted it. This was the view I had craved, and I was thoroughly satiated. Forgive my fixation with this bird, but it stands head and shoulder above anything else I have seen this year, and ranks up there within my all-time top ten birds, so I am going to milk it, while I can!
 
The weather on this day was topsy-turvy, snow accompanying parts, while other parts were bathed in sunshine, with cerulean skies! In the middle of the day, within the higher reaches of the park, a sudden and particularly heavy snowfall, left some American Bison carrying a soft white burden on their hides, making for a magical scene. 
At lunchtime we left the snow largely behind, but still experienced bone-chilling temperatures. Not what we desired for an open air picnic lunch in a campsite! We had not even managed to make our first sandwiches, when one of the local camp raiders – Grey Jays – swooped in and gobbled up some of our unintended crumbs. I had heard tales of this species being commonly referred to as “Camp Robbers”, due to their larcenous nature, but this was my first direct experience of it, which made for a great, impromptu, photo shoot!

27 October 2016

Bear Necessities…YELLOWSTONE USA (10 Oct)


As all good wildlife people know it pays to be out early (and late), as that is often when animals or birds are most active in a place like Yellowstone National Park. And so, we left the hotel in the dark and pulled up at the picturesque spot of Swan Lake as the sky was blushed pink, signifying the arrival of dawn. It was a beautiful and tranquil scene; all was calm, save for a few ripples on the lake caused by the early morning movements of a pair of Trumpeter Swans disturbing the glassy surface of the water. 
Few other animals were in evidence though, so, once dawn had made way for daytime, we continued on to a must-see site within the parkOld Faithful, the largest cone geyser in the World, which can reach over 130 feet on occasions. However, our progress to this explosive spot was halted when a classic Yellowstone sight blocked our way, and peaked our interest: a huddle of cars was stopped untidily on the roadside. In Yellowstone, this is often the easiest path to seeing wildlife; drive slowly, scouring the roads for human indications of other animals. This particular jam had been caused by a sow Grizzly Bear that had brought her cub up to the roadside to forage. Bears are busy at this time fattening up for the onset of winter, when they go into hibernation for the hardiest months. The car huddle was soon tidied up by a zealous park ranger (sadly they are often a little overzealous there), and we watched as the pair of bears slowly made their way out of sight of the road.
Arriving at Old Faithful, we found a series of seats (a permanent fixture) had been set up, not unlike a sporting event, for witnessing the geysers famously regular eruptions. We also found TV screens predicting when the next performance would be: 12:10pm. The geyser erupts every 70 minutes or so through the day, and while not quite as faithful as it used to be, it still remains predictable enough. On arriving at the site, well before the next spurt, we found the seating to be largely empty, but come midday, they were packed with hundreds of people; an expectant crowd, committed to the time that the screens had informed them of. This was proven to be pretty accurate, when Old Faithful went off within a few minutes of the scheduled time, an impressive sight greeted with all the delight of a sporting crowd, if a little quieter. No Mexican Waves were observed, but plenty of celebration ensued. 
For lunch, we stopped off at a campsite, hoping for a Gray Jay or one of the parks plentiful Clarks Nutcrackers to come in and investigate our picnic spread, but instead just getting a murder of crows. Or more specifically, a pair of Common Ravens, seemingly one of the most abundant species in the park at this time, when many of the breeding species have vacated Yellowstone for the winter.
Much of the rest of our day was spent fruitlessly searching for another Great Grey Owl, at other hallowed spots in the park, with no reward. As we perused the park though we came upon the regular, quintessential scenes of mighty Bison grazing on the road verges, and kept our eyes out for other animals. We stopped in on a regular pair of Grizzly Bears at another spot, which had become so reliable, they have come to name the mother bear (Strawberry), although for some reason, the cub she was with bore no name. We ended the day outside the park, and in another state, for on leaving the park each day, we crossed out of Wyoming and back into Montana. Near the town of Gardiner, where we were staying, we checked in on a local pair of wild, orphaned Grizzly Bear cubs, which were fortunately feeding close to the road, as the day began to wane. On the way back to Gardiner, a recent roadside deer kill was being attended by Americas largest raptor, a Golden Eagle to close the day.

Bear Necessities…YELLOWSTONE USA (10 Oct)


As all good wildlife people know it pays to be out early (and late), as that is often when animals or birds are most active in a place like Yellowstone National Park. And so, we left the hotel in the dark and pulled up at the picturesque spot of Swan Lake as the sky was blushed pink, signifying the arrival of dawn. It was a beautiful and tranquil scene; all was calm, save for a few ripples on the lake caused by the early morning movements of a pair of Trumpeter Swans disturbing the glassy surface of the water. 
Few other animals were in evidence though, so, once dawn had made way for daytime, we continued on to a must-see site within the parkOld Faithful, the largest cone geyser in the World, which can reach over 130 feet on occasions. However, our progress to this explosive spot was halted when a classic Yellowstone sight blocked our way, and peaked our interest: a huddle of cars was stopped untidily on the roadside. In Yellowstone, this is often the easiest path to seeing wildlife; drive slowly, scouring the roads for human indications of other animals. This particular jam had been caused by a sow Grizzly Bear that had brought her cub up to the roadside to forage. Bears are busy at this time fattening up for the onset of winter, when they go into hibernation for the hardiest months. The car huddle was soon tidied up by a zealous park ranger (sadly they are often a little overzealous there), and we watched as the pair of bears slowly made their way out of sight of the road.
Arriving at Old Faithful, we found a series of seats (a permanent fixture) had been set up, not unlike a sporting event, for witnessing the geysers famously regular eruptions. We also found TV screens predicting when the next performance would be: 12:10pm. The geyser erupts every 70 minutes or so through the day, and while not quite as faithful as it used to be, it still remains predictable enough. On arriving at the site, well before the next spurt, we found the seating to be largely empty, but come midday, they were packed with hundreds of people; an expectant crowd, committed to the time that the screens had informed them of. This was proven to be pretty accurate, when Old Faithful went off within a few minutes of the scheduled time, an impressive sight greeted with all the delight of a sporting crowd, if a little quieter. No Mexican Waves were observed, but plenty of celebration ensued. 
For lunch, we stopped off at a campsite, hoping for a Gray Jay or one of the parks plentiful Clarks Nutcrackers to come in and investigate our picnic spread, but instead just getting a murder of crows. Or more specifically, a pair of Common Ravens, seemingly one of the most abundant species in the park at this time, when many of the breeding species have vacated Yellowstone for the winter.
Much of the rest of our day was spent fruitlessly searching for another Great Grey Owl, at other hallowed spots in the park, with no reward. As we perused the park though we came upon the regular, quintessential scenes of mighty Bison grazing on the road verges, and kept our eyes out for other animals. We stopped in on a regular pair of Grizzly Bears at another spot, which had become so reliable, they have come to name the mother bear (Strawberry), although for some reason, the cub she was with bore no name. We ended the day outside the park, and in another state, for on leaving the park each day, we crossed out of Wyoming and back into Montana. Near the town of Gardiner, where we were staying, we checked in on a local pair of wild, orphaned Grizzly Bear cubs, which were fortunately feeding close to the road, as the day began to wane. On the way back to Gardiner, a recent roadside deer kill was being attended by Americas largest raptor, a Golden Eagle to close the day.

-->

24 October 2016

A Ghost No More…YELLOWSTONE USA (9 Oct)

I have been a birder for more than thirty years, and for much of that time I have held Owls to a higher plane than most other birds. Like many who came before me, this group grabs my attention like no other. While all owls create a buzz amongst addicts like me, big owls have an altogether greater lure to them. The largest owl in North America is the Great Grey Owl. This has a distribution that spreads into Europe too, but in spite of me being from that continent, I have never been in a position to try for one. For the past 11 years I have heard gripping tales of the classic 2005 North American invasion, where people have informed me they were able to see dozens in a single day, and others even boasted of triple figures! All I needed was just one. I vowed that I would sit and wait for the next invasion, and then I would make my move. Eleven years of impatiently waiting later, and plentiful torment from these legendary tales that have become entrenched within birding folklore, my patience had worn out. As soon as Iain Campbell suggested a fall trip to Yellowstone National Park, I had only one thing in my crosshairs. In the run-up to the trip, I had plowed through eBird to try and work out our best strategy for getting this ashen beast, and put out requests for information on Facebook. The initial news was good - a Great Grey has been regular at Bridge Bay in Yellowstone for much of early autumn and was looking good for us, but then tragedy struck, and this rather cooperative individual turned up deceased, having been accidentally hit by a car. Research going back over the years, revealed regular spots, like Canyon, inside the park, but they were often accompanied by phrases such as theyre always there, just hard to find, and other less encouraging statements, which illustrated that in all likelihood we would leave Yellowstone without one. This was echoed by Greg Millers experience in the acclaimed book The Big Year, where he only narrowed scored this Phantom of the North in the last leg of his mammoth year. While I tried to prepare myself mentally for not getting one, I could not stop images of this dramatic owl from dominating my thoughts in the run up to the trip. This was only intensified, when we ran into Jim Chagares the evening before, who scrolled through a series of spectacular photos of the recently deceased individual. However, he had better news in that hed seen another the evening before, in none other than Canyon, where so many had previously mentioned to try for it. We met at a chilling dawn and drove straight to the spruce-fringed meadow, where hed laid eyes on it only the evening before. A quick sweep of the meadow revealed nothing more than a meadow; devoid of prominently perched owls, and devoid of birds in general, save for the odd raven on the wing, passing overhead. We drove between spots, giving them seemingly cursory glances, and turning up nothing. Then Jim swung his car swiftly into a layby, and tensions were heightened; there off in the distance was a large grey shape sitting on a small spruce, which appeared as if it should be straining under the weight of this huge owl. Jim was calm; I was not. He informed me it would sit there, as they often do, even when confronted by a long line of staring admirers, as can happen in a busy place like Yellowstone. Jim was aware of this, but the owl was seemingly unaware of this, as it promptly took off, and nose-dived into the nearest woods, soon becoming invisible to us. This sent shivers of terror down my spine, for I had not even glared into its eyes by this point, something that is necessary for any bird, but especially alluring with owls that hold a stare like no other group of birds. My nerves were shredded, as the glory that had been expected at my first sighting of a long-awaited owl was completely absent, replaced instead with complete dissatisfaction and disappointment. We walked into the meadow and nearby woods hoping to relocate the fiend, but came up empty. Jim showed surprise at this abnormal behavior, and I was racked with horror. We needed to split up, and soon did. Several times, following the split, a large grey shape emerged from the trees and then buried itself out of sight. The size of the bird in flight was impressive, but its eyes, and that remarkable stare remained frustratingly elusive. 
The curious thing was it appeared not to be reacting to us, and taking flight as a result of any of our actions, but seemed to be looking for a place where it was happy to hunt, and so far that was not in sight of us. Finally, after several more snatches of the bird in the air, it drifted across the road and seemed to drop into a narrow forest gully. Nick Athanas and I hurried to the spot, and were stopped cold, when we found it staring right back at us, perched in a pine, and looking every bit as impressive as it always promised to be in my inner thoughts. We spent a memorable 20 minutes or so with the bird, which at one point pounced with menace into the grass, emerging with nothing obvious. Soon after it took off, and in spite of us feeling we might refind it again, did not manage to relocate it after all. Up until this point in time if youd asked me for my personal Bird of the Year, my immediate answer would be the Northern Saw-whet Owl, which I watched at 4am on crisp April morning on the Upper Peninsula of Michigan; however, now its title was in serious jeopardy. If Id had just a tad more time with the Grey Ghost the title would have been a shoe-in, but I felt it left me greedily yearning for more, and we vowed to search again for it in our coming days in Yellowstone


22 October 2016

Yellowstone…USA (8 Oct)

The word Yellowstone is widely revered amongst nature photographers. It has been called many things, among them the Serengeti of North America. Nowhere else on the continent can offer so many large mammals in a short time. Bison speckled with snow, the steely glare from a wolf pack, and the enormous headdress of a stag Elk in rutting season are commonplace images associated with Americas oldest park. And that, was the reason for our visit. Having not seen Black or Brown Bears, Wolf, Bison, or Bighorn Sheep, I had plentiful mammalian reasons for being there. On top of that was my primary target for the trip, the so-called Grey Ghost, or Phantom of the North; North Americas largest owl, the Great Grey. The Gandalf of Owl species

We flew into Bozeman, in the state of Montana, but soon after drove into neighboring Wyoming, and Yellowstone National Park, which spans three different US states (Montana, Wyoming, and Idaho). Our arrival in Bozeman was spectacular in itself, as we looked down on the jagged contours of the Rockies as we descended by plane, and were further impressed by the wall of mountains dominating the horizon, as we walked out of the airport. A few hours later, we entered the park itself through the Roosevelt Arch, (near Gardiner), the final stones of which were laid down by the US president of the same name in 1903.
Just past the infamous arch, we began to see some of the abundant wildlife that Yellowstone is justifiably famous for: Pronghorns and Mule Sheep grazed nonchalantly nearby. Moving swiftly, and deeper into the park, we came upon a Yellowstone tradition - a gridlock of vehicles proclaiming the sighting of something special. We raced out of the car and were soon glassing a Black Bear snuffling through the pine-sullied understory. This was my first, and I somewhat arrogantly, thought this was the opening of the proverbial floodgates for the species for me. However, this ended up being the solitary sighting of our time there. A glance at a straw-coloured mountain meadow revealed some massive brown stains within it, which proved themselves to be our first gigantic Bison of the trip, an impressive and imposing beast that was to go on to feature daily.
Our day ended with a very fortuitous reunion with a very skilled nature photographer from Indiana (Jim Chagares), whom we had got to know through our many visits to Magee Marsh in Ohio. This was especially lucky, as Jim was already honed in on some key species of the park, after some four weeks on site, (and many years covering it before that). In particular, he floored me with jaw-dropping photos of a recently observed Great Grey Owl, which had my pulse racing and my complete attention! The photo came with a caveat though; the individual so dramatically portrayed within his photos had come to a sad end only days before, when it was hit by a passing car. We had heard this tragic news before we had arrived, and so were somewhat prepared for this unfortunate headline. Jim had better news though, as hed managed to home in on another ghost just that very evening, in a different spot, and quickly suggested hunting together for it the next day



20 October 2016

Fighting Cocks….ECUADOR (5 Oct)

In 2005 a young farmer in Mindo named Angel Paz found a display ground of the extraordinary Andean Cock-of-the-rock on his land, and so proceeded to build a trail to it. The rest that followed is something of a birding legend

While doing the backbreaking work of digging a trail through the steep cloudforest, Angel noticed a large brown ball of a bird following him through the newly turned earth. He thought little of it, but was endeared to his new forest friend, not knowing the true gravity of this sighting. He noticed that it would forage for worms on a recently cut path, and so took to feeding the bird its chosen food. Not long after, Angel was ready to present his newly built trail, and blind, to the birding world, so they could marvel too at the displays of the Andean Cock-of-the-rock, one of the most beautiful forest birds in the Andes, and one famed for drawing crowds of avian-loving onlookers. The first groups came, and were suitably impressed with the fighting cocks, and were then, somewhat nonchalantly, made aware of his other habituated bird, which hopped out on the trail, and was then named quickly by people with considerably more bird knowledge in the visiting group, as none other than the rare, and highly desirable Giant Antpitta, a species that had eluded most from the birding fraternity, even those who called Ecuador home. Word spread like wild fire, a gettable Giant Antpitta was red hot news, and within just a few weeks, this new reserve Paz de as Aves, was quickly entered on the regular birding circuit, and has remained there to this day. While Maria, the Giant Antpitta brought fame to this locale, Angel and his determined brother Rodrigo swiftly studied their birds, and learned them well, quickly developing into the top quality guides they have become today. Now they boast not only a Giant Antpitta or two, but a whole series of scarce forest birds that not only call their reserve home, but also regularly show for visiting birders at close quarters. More than a decade on, the list of birds that the Paz Brothers have managed to habituate has grown long: 5 species of antpittas – normally shy forest birds that only the most determined birders can claim to have seen – Chestnut-crowned, Yellow-breasted, Ochre-breasted and Moustached having all joined the list with the original species; Rufous-breasted Antthrush; Dark-breasted Wood-Quail; Sickle-winged Guan; Ocellated Tapaculo; Plate-billed Mountain-Toucan, Crimson-rumped Toucanet, Olivaceous Piha, Black-chinned Mountain-Tanager, and Toucan Barbet have also all been involved at various times, although some of these have gone just as suddenly as they came. Simply put, this reserve has become a fixture on almost every tour to the area, and for good reason, as nowhere offers these species so easily, or so often. Since it opened its doors in 2005, the taming of antpittas in this way has been learned by others and spread not only to other reserves in Ecuador, but also across the northern part of the continent; antpitta feeding stations have now been initiated in the forests of Peru, Colombia, and Brazil, making many species of antpitta more available than ever been before!
So, as you can imagine, we approached the site with some excitement. I have been there on numerous previous occasions, but my enthusiasm for the site, and respect for the achievements of the extraordinary Paz Brothers remains undiminished. Angel met us, and others (for this is a place that you rarely experience alone, due to its widespread birding fame), and led us down into the deep and dark rainforest, to a moss-encrusted blind, where even before we got stepped inside had revealed its subject; the raucous, ugly, and pig-like squeals of waking Andean Cock-of-the-rocks were heard as we descended the trail, and announced the coming of another dawn time display by these birds, a daily ritual since time immemorial. While the birds will never be revered as great songsters, they more than makeup for this in their gorgeous appearance; the males are retinal-burning, bright scarlet, with a permanently raised crest that hides its bill completely, below a tuft of red feathers. The bird is bright red pretty much from head to toe, save for black-and-silvery-grey wings. You are extremely unlikely to mistake this species for any other, as it is utterly unique. On arrival at the blind, the noises of the excited birds were conspicuous, but the birds were not. In spite of their dazzling colouration, these striking cocks used the abundant rainforest tangles well, using the multitude of hanging vines as an effective screen from our eager, prying eyes. Our cameras remained dormant, and the gathered group grew frustrated. However, Angel watched calmly by; he knew these birds well, and saw no cause for alarm. Dawn came and went, and the birds continued their excited wing flapping, which only the most generous observer could label as a display dance, and loudly proclaimed their abilities as a worthy male, and mate. Meanwhile, the people assembled eyed them with considerable yearning, an open branch lying conspicuously empty of birds in front of the blind. Then, once dawn was already well into the rearview mirror, one of the Cock-of-the-rocks finally obliged, and dropped onto to this perfect perch. If there had been any doubt that there were plentiful cameras among the assembled group, the sound of shutters working away furiously soon dispelled this myth! The cock-of-the-rocks displays grew ever more frenzied, and the birders excitement quickly seemed to equal that of the birds themselves. Then, just as suddenly as they had appeared, they shot off into the forest, with a blurred burst of vivid red; their raucous call notes trailing behind them. They were likely gone for the day, until the next day, and the next dawn, when this immortalized ritual will no doubt start all over again once more.
A visit to Paz de las Aves is an odd birding experience, as you are shuffled from one great bird to another, as if every individual bird has been booked for a prompt appointment. So, next up, was a covey of Dark-backed Wood-Quails, a species that is rare and local in South America, being confined to the Choco bioregion of western Colombia and northwest Ecuador. Even where it occurs, it is scarce, and rarely seen without considerable effort, and a drop of good fortune. This applies everywhere, except Paz de las Aves. Just moments after the peak of the performance from the cock-of-the-rocks, we turned to see the wood-quail excitedly gathered around Angels feet as he tossed juicy chunks of banana on to the forest floor! Not long after we were herded onto another near forest trail, where this time the subject was rarer still – Giant Antpitta. Like the wood-quail, it never gave itself away as a rare and shy forest species that birders had longed for, for many years before the birds here became so readily available. On this occasion, a young bird hopped into the open, rejecting the words of both shy and difficult as it did so! Not long after, a second group of half a dozen Dark-backed Wood-Quail appeared to, appearing more like pets than the wild birds they actually were, as they swarmed around the feeder!
We then took a short walk down to a nearby rushing mountain river, stopping for Angel to gesture at a cryptic shape lurking deep within the dark shadows of an overhang, which showed itself to be a Lyre-tailed Nightjar. Once at the river our focus narrowed, and we waited while both Angel and his brother Rodrigo worked tirelessly to get the attention of the local Yellow-breasted Antpitta, by whistling it to them with a flawless imitation of the birds call. This is often one of the most reliable of the local antpittas to see, although on this day at least, it gave us a little scare, making us wait for a while, until it finally emerged out of the forest gloom. It was now only an hour or so after dawn and we had already seen some very special birds: Andean Cock-of-the-rock, Dark-backed Wood-Quail, Giant and Yellow-breasted Antpittas, and Lyre-tailed Nightjar. However, we did not stop there. Unlike the previous species, the next one required us to be patient, and to work for it, relatively speaking, as we were required to climb up to the top of a short, though near-vertical, cloud forest trail. Waiting for us at the top, we hoped, would be a Rufous-breasted Antthrush. It was not actually waiting, although several loud whistles from Angel later, and the bird scurried along a fallen tree right in front of us to pick off the worms laid down there for it. This was the species that was marketed as the least reliable of the regular birds on site, so we left feeling pretty happy with ourselves, as we headed further up to the road to another forest trail. This penultimate, penultimate stop was to try for a further brace of antpittas: Ochre-breasted and Moustached Antpittas. The former proved elusive and unresponsive, never appearing, while the latter took a little time to show, though eventually hopped alongside the trail, where we needed to squeeze up tight to all be able to see it, taking our turns patiently to take a position with a view to it. 
It was then time for a long-standing tradition at this site; a tasty brunch of bolones and empanadas, cooked by the women of the Paz clan. Their small Café overlooks both hummingbird feeders and some fruit feeders too, allowing us to take in such avian treats as Velvet-purple Coronet, Empress Brilliant, and Flame-faced and Golden-naped Tanagers while we ate. Late on, some of the local Crimson-rumped Toucanets and Toucan Barbets also appeared, before we departed for one-more-antpitta
The last one required us to walk 20 metres into the forest, but this was no great burden for a Chestnut-crowned Antpitta, which was arguably the best looking of all the antpittas seen that morning. After returning to Tandayapa for lunch again, and to check out, we regrettably, needed to head back into the Metropolis of Quito, leaving the cloudforest, and many, memorable avian moments behind