A big howdy from Vegas my friends! It has been an exhausting month of birding (so far) full of new lifers that are sure to make their way to you once .. or should I say if we ever make it home. We were supposed to be on our way back already, but unfortunately, we are stuck in Las Vegas.. who am I kidding, there are worse places to be held up than the Sin City. For the record, the Sphere is one of the most amazing things I’ve ever seen. I’ll give more details on our unexpected situation in a later post when we get everything straightened out – we might have to find a Conestoga wagon to get back home. Meanwhile, Brad is going to jump in and entertain you with another one of his Cali adventures.
Take it away Brad…
When wandering through a forest of Giant Sequoia trees it’s best to keep looking . . . down. Yes, that’s right. Down. Oh, I get it. These trees are magnificent. And very, very, very tall. However, they don’t move, except for a tiny bit near the tops. Have you ever heard the stories about penguins tipping over looking up at airplanes as they flew over? Probably pure bunk, but that’s what I felt like trying to see the tops of the Giant Sequoia from near their base. Even though the trees are unquestionably tall, the real action is down below, on the forest floor. This is a birding blog after all.
Having said that, photographing birds on the ground isn’t always exciting. Unless you come across a new species, or variant, you have not seen before. That’s exactly what happened to Jan and I at Kings Canyon and Sequoia National Parks. As I mentioned earlier, we did go to see the trees, all 250+ feet of them. But when something small and greyish/brownish catches your eye, birders are obligated to take photos, normally a lot of photos.
Near every path Jan and I hiked through the Giant Sequoia forests, this little bird was hopping in the undergrowth.
Hit the jump to learn more about this hooded feathered find.
With horrible mobile phone coverage in the forests (actually it was rather refreshing not to continuously get alerts of how imbecilic the world was being at the time) there was no way for me to look up this bird. Oh sure, I had my copy of Sibley Birds West back at the hotel. But if I didn’t even know where to start, the 475+ pages weren’t a big help at that time. Sort of like trying to look up the word “psychology” if you don’t know how to spell it. Do I start with “S” in the dictionary? Kids, go ask your parents what a dictionary is. OK, hands up, how many pronounce both the “P” and the “S” when they say the word psychology? I’m not judging . . .
I did catch a break, later that evening, when my copy of Sibley’s fell open to the Dark-eyed Junco. But not the same Dark-eyed Junco (slate-colored) we have in our backyard in Illinois. This one was another Dark-eyed, but not the slate-colored or grey-headed variants I had seen elsewhere. The book, and many websites, referred to this one as the Oregon variant.
The what? Yes, the Oregon variant of the Dark-eyed Junco. No, I didn’t see any tiny Conestoga wagons nearby.
Oregon Juncos (Junco hyemalis) forage quietly on the ground, flashing their white tail feathers with each hop to communicate their location to their mate or other members of a flock. When flushed, or when interacting with other Juncos, they give a hard, distinctive call note. At the time, Merlin wasn’t picking up any birds; again, no help there.
All of these little birds were hopping about quite happily on fallen branches or trees. One was hiding in some soft green underbrush, but as soon as it could, took up a position on this twig.
That’s as high off the ground as we ever saw one on this trip. Most were happily on the ground or a fallen log. All of the Oregon Juncos we saw were the paler version of adults. Some have very strong colors on their sides, like taking the Saturation slider in Photoshop or Lightroom all the way to the right.
After our bear encounter on Tall Trees Trail in Sequoia National Park (visit here), there was this excited little fellow just outside the parking area. It seemed to notice we were there and always seemed to keep the same distance away.
As we walked by, it was hopping from ground to log to ground to log; over and over and over again. It reminded me of a two-year old that had to go to the bathroom but was too interested in what it was doing to stop and go.
Typically, Juncos rear two broods a year, beginning in early spring. They nest on the ground, usually tucked under the edge of a fallen log or shrub. Juncos will build a new nest each year; it’s rare for them to reuse a nest. They incubate three to five white/brown/blue/green speckled eggs. Incubation lasts twelve to thirteen days, and young Juncos fledge eleven to twelve days after hatching. Juncos harvest insects when they are rearing their young, but rely on seeds for much of the year.
This is the third variant of Junco that Jan and I have seen. However, since it’s “only” a variant it is NOT a +1 for us. If the bird-naming structure gets reorganized, again, then I may have two more +1s. I’m still counting it as a +1/3. (Shhh, don’t tell Brian) Jan and I have seen the slate-colored variant in the story here and the grey-headed variant in the story here.
Thank you for reading. If you want to see more Dark-eyed Junco photos (slate-colored or grey-headed or Oregon), please visit here.
Credits:
Thanks again to Jan for proofreading and editing. Thanks to Jan for some of the photos in this article.
Life Intrigued 