Another morning with a nice bit of spring migration going on. Jack feelin’ good, what with all the smells, and me feelin’ good, what with all the empids.
Seriously, I didn’t expect any flycatchers (I’ve learned rarely to expect anything), let alone three. First came what I thought might be a Willow Flycatcher or a Western Wood-pewee (neither of which species I’m very familiar with); then came what I thought might be a willow or maybe Hammond’s Flycatcher; finally came what I was pretty sure was another Gray Flycatcher.
The first turned out to be a wood-pewee, the second turned out to be a Dusky Flycatcher—the second I’ve ever encountered. (The first, coincidentally came on 18 May 2020, exactly a year ago.)
Other cool birds, too. Still a little migration excitement left, I’ll bet.
Grandeur Peak Area List Beginning at 7:05 a.m. (8:05 MDT), I hiked a few hundred feet up a mountain.
1. Lazuli Bunting 2. American Robin* 3. Song Sparrow* (v) 4. Black-chinned Hummingbird 5. Woodhouse’s Scrub-jay 6. Spotted Towhee 7. Blue-gray Gnatcatcher 8. Rock Pigeon 9. Pine Siskin 10. Black-billed Magpie* 11. Mourning Dove 12. Western Wood-pewee† 13. Black-capped Chickadee 14. House Finch** 15. Chipping Sparrow 16. Warbling Vireo 17. Dusky Flycatcher† 18. Black-throated Gray Warbler (v) 19. Black-headed Grosbeak 20. Chukar (v) 21. Lesser Goldfinch** 22. Cooper’s Hawk 23. Gray Flycatcher 24. House Sparrow** (v)
Elsewhere
25. Eurasian Collared-dove (v) 26. California Quail
Mammals
Mountain Cottontail Rock Squirrel
(v) Voice only *Also elsewhere **Voice only elsewhere †First-of-year bird
This morning’s hike with Jack was a little different, in that we traveled in a group of four humans and four dogs. The dogs were friendly and well-behaved, and the humans were looking for wild birds.
And wild birds were found. Not everyone saw every species, but there were plenty to choose from—including two first-of-year (to me) birds: Violet-green Swallow and Gray Flycatcher. (I’d thought at first the flycatcher was a lifer, but turns out I spotted my first last May.) Was a fun time.
Tomorrow will be a summerlike day, so they say. Very likely the best spring migration birding in the week or two to come.
[Aside: Tomorrow afternoon I’m scheduled to give a Zoom slideshow presented by Coastal Mountains Land Trust, facilitated by the Camden (Maine) Public Library, comparing and contrasting the birds and other wildlife of coastal Maine and the Wasatch range. Fun!]
Grandeur Peak Area List Beginning at 7:30 a.m. (8:30 MDT), I hiked a few hundred feet up a mountain.
Light precipitation last night—rain in the neighborhood, snow up on the peaks—so we got a late start, dog and I. The morning was chilly and overcast, and the trails were slick with mud. I had no idea what I’d encounter.
MacGillivray’s Warbler.
A lot, turns out. Twenty-five species (actually 26, if you count the unidentified Empidonax), including two lifers. The first—a Black-throated Sparrow—just flitted up out of nowhere, without a sound. Was lucky to get a quick pic or two. The second was near the end of our hike, when another Empidonax popped up to a perch. Got a video of that quiet, nondescript bird, which (lucky for me) was flicking his tail down, then up—a sure sign that it was a Gray Flycatcher.
But the biggest deal for me was that right about the time the sun came out—beating all odds—I somehow managed a good look at the MacGillivray’s Warbler that’d been driving me nuts for the past four or five days.
Beyond all that, other surprise birds appeared—like my first Olive-sided Warbler in Utah, perched very near a random Dark-eyed Junco. Got real wet, slipped in mud a couple times, but felt like I’d just had some kind of serendipitous bath or something.
My tub runneth over.
24 May 2020 update: I’m told my Black-throated Sparrow was just the second reported sighting in Salt Lake County.
Grandeur Peak Area List Beginning at 8:30 a.m., I hiked a few hundred feet up a mountain.
