Birding is an odd sort of a sport or hobby, involving adventures of various sorts across the land and sea in search of winged creatures.  We planned a visit to our son in San Francisco in February and decided to take time during our stay in the Golden State to seek out birds that we had never before seen. 

Originally I made plans to find two resident species.  The first and most important of these was LeConte’s Thrasher.  This pale gray, secretive, rare, and spottily distributed desert bird had eluded us on two occasions previously.  To avoid that I arranged for a local guide.  I did not want to plan and execute a seven day and $1,300 trip without getting the bird.  Then, at the last minute, the guide called to say that he had a family crisis and could not join us.  That was not good news even though he assured me we would find the bird.

The second bird was Bell’s Sparrow.  I suspected this bird would be much easier to find than the thrasher.  In fact, I was sure we had seen this bird previously near Las Vegas, Nevada.  But that was in the days before Bell’s Sparrow existed.  I must explain.  Before 2013 there was a species called Sage Sparrow that ranged from coastal California to the Rocky Mountains.  We first saw this bird in Las Vegas.  I remember looking at the field guide which showed “Pacific” and “Interior” “types” and I tried to identify the bird to “type”  but found it very difficult.  The bird was distant and retreated into the bush whenever we came close.  From a distance it looked very much intermediate to the two pictures.  I said, “this could be tough” and the noticed the names.  Realizing that Las Vegas is nowhere near the Pacific, I decided that the bird(s) must be of the interior type and left it at that. 

Since then, some ornithologist (and an ornithologists’ club) decided that the “interior” type is a different species than the “Pacific” type.  Now the former is called the Sagebrush Sparrow and the later the Bell’s Sparrow.  Fine, but which did I see in Las Vegas?  It turns out that both species are found there in the winter, but only Bell’s breeds there in the spring.  It took substantial research to discover this.  I had found the birds singing on territory there in the spring, so they were almost certainly Bell’s Sparrows of the interior “subspecies” which are indeed intermediate in appearance to the coastal Bell’s Sparrows and the Sagebrush Sparrows. ergo my initial confusion.  So, I could say that I first saw Bell’s Sparrow in Las Vegas, but I did not identify it well enough to absolutely rule out Sagebrush Sparrow.  Best to see it again and definitely identify it.  So, it was on our “target bird” list.

We have, incidentally, seen the Sagebrush Sparrow in the Idaho desert where Bell’s Sparrow never goes, even though we identified it as Sage Sparrow,.  This species became part of our “life list” through mere notation as soon as I found the record of the sighting in my field notes.  That took a while actually.

Two additions to the life-bird list in a year is actually rather satisfactory, and I would have been pleased to achieve that on our California expedition.  I prepared an itinerary and made reservations for a rental car and motels before arriving in California.

California postings raised my interest in January when a Rustic Bunting, a rare Asian vagrant, appeared in of all places, Golden-gate Park in San Francisco about two miles from our son’s apartment.  I told Anne that it would be wonderful and very unlikely that the bird would be there at the end of February when we were scheduled to arrive.

Remarkably, it did.  I checked every week or so and then daily in the week before our departure.  I told our son that we would be off to find the bird at dawn on the morning after our arrival.  He could join us or sleep in.  The bird was last reported two days before our plane landed.  We crossed our fingers and went to bed.  Waking was easy.  We were still on Eastern Time.  Not being sure of the distance we walked.  Turned out to be 2.1 miles.  I was not sure of the exact location, but a park employee knew about this bird and sent us to a playing field.  There we spotted “the brush pile” that had been reported as the feeding location of this bird and the resident sparrows.  Alex wisely slept in.

The morning was cool and clear.  We found several “year-birds” on our hike including many Varied Thrush which is a rare treat for Eastern birders.  Arriving at the brush pile we chose a position and watched the birds.  We saw White-crowned and Golden-crowned Sparrows and many Dark-eyed Juncos.  Very nice, but no bunting!

After a time another birder approached.  He was from Maryland, I believe.  He had been standing on the other side of the row of trees behind the brush pile and witnessed our arrival.  He said he had not seen the bird.  We chatted for about an hour and he decided to wander off to check out the park ponds and return later for the bunting.  We remained to study each finch emerging from the brush to feed on the lawn under the trees around the brush pile.   We saw our first Fox Sparrows of the year.  Then Anne called out the arrival of a short-tailed bird smaller than the sparrows.  We focused on it as it hopped into the open.  It was a Rustic Bunting, not a blazing male in breeding plumage, but clearly of this species with a small crest and russet streaks along the flanks.  Alleluia!  We studied it for a long time and then moved closer for better views.  After a time it hopped back into the bush and we began our march home taking more time to enjoy the many Varied Thrushes in the shrubbery.  We had our first life bird in 2015.

While in San Francisco we enjoyed seeing many “Western specialties” and adding them to our year list.  The Allen’s Hummingbirds were arriving and setting up territories.  We enjoyed our best views ever of this species.  The common Bushtits, Chestnut-backed Chickadees, and Black Phoebes remain a treat for us and we saw many of them.  Pacific Wrens singing up a storm also entertained us.

The birding in San Francisco was fun, and we looked forward to our journey south to the Bakersfield area.  My sister said that very few people vacationed at Bakersfield.  Birders are among the very few.

On the morning of our departure I took the bus and walked to pick up the rental car at 8 o’clock.  I haggled over an upgrade to a small SUV, taking the daily price addition down from $40 to $15.  I picked up Anne who had brought our luggage and gear to the curb and we hit the road crossing the bay bridge to I-5.  We lunched at a rest area overlooking a river and watched freshly arrived Cliff Swallows swarming around a bridge.

We next stopped at the San Luis National Wildlife Refuge to enjoy the many waterfowl there including White-fronted Geese and Ross’s Geese which are also tough birds to see in the East.  Day turned into evening.  We dined at a Denny’s and found our way across the desert in the dark to Maricopa. 

I had made reservations at the only motel there, I thought on the recommendation of our guide who suggested we stay at Maricopa.  But during the call when he cancelled on us, he suggested we would find the accommodations there rough and that we would be better off up the highway at Taft.  Too much trouble to change I thought.  Now I worried.  Pulling into the parking lot I saw it filled with heavy pickups of oil workers.  Perhaps this is not a tourist motel, I thought, but the host was welcoming and the lobby and the room were in good condition and clean.  Delightful.  We went to bed dreaming of thrashers and sparrows.

We had packed our own breakfasts and lunches.  Before dawn we ate cereal and made sandwiches.  The various literature (Southern California bird-finding guide and Internet reports) suggested finding LeConte’s Thrasher along Petroleum Club Road.  That seemed a strange name until we looked out  the window.  There were oil wells everywhere.  Turns out the Midway-Sunset oil field is at the edge of Maricopa.  This is the third larges oil field in the United States.  Nodding pumps fill an area about a mile wide by ten miles long.  A surveyor found oil seeping out of the ground here about 1905 and returned after setting up his own oil company.  The oil was expected to be pumped dry by 1970, but with newer technologies nobody knows anymore how long it will last.  The estimated yield just keeps going up.

Birding among the oil wells is perhaps a bit unusual.  We parked the car next to a monument to the Lakeview #1 Gusher.  Remnants of the huge uncontrolled blowout are still in evidence there.  The birds seem not to mind. 

We walked along a gravel road following an oil pipe.  Before long we heard a Bell’s Sparrow singing and turned our attention to him.  We would see many of this species over the next few days.  We observed the dark head, paler unstreaked back, and the strong black throat stripe field marks that distinguish this species from the Sagebrush Sparrow.  The song was intermediate as this was the old intermediate subspecies now placed within the Bell’s Sparrow.  Another life bird and another kiss.

Then we heard the song of a mimid.  We stopped quickly to see a Northern Mockingbird in a bush.  We didn’t need that!  We continued walking for another two hours and found no LeConte’s Thrasher.  We thought we had heard its smoother and more ethereal song, but saw nothing.  The book said we could play a recording and they would pop out.   We played a recording and received no response. 

That was frustrating, but it was only the first morning.  Still, the failure was interfering with our plans.  We would have to come back in the evening.  Now we would explore the Carrizo Plain National Monument.   There were places there too where we might find the thrasher. 

We did not find it there but still had a lot of fun.  The scenery is stark but lovely.  To the east of the desert plain are the Tremblor Mountains which consist of rock pushed up by the near continuous motion of the San Andreas fault.  To the west is the higher and more stable and vegetated Caliente range.  We found various birds there including Lawrence’s Goldfinch which we had seen only twice before.  They turned out to be everywhere we went on this trip.  A treat.  We also encountered a migratory flock of male mountain bluebirds.  A couple of dozen fluttered about the desert around the car for a time.  They reminded me of the bluebirds in Walt Disney’s tales of briar rabbit.

We arrived back at Maricopa late in the afternoon and parked again along Petroleum Club Road.  We stood on a ridge and could hear what we were certain was the song of the LeConte’s Thrasher but could not find it.  We realized later that their soft song does not travel far.  When we heard them we were close to them.  We were probably looking too far away.  We retreated to supper disappointed but optimistic we would find the bird the next morning.

Supper was at Tina’s diner and was cooked and served by Tina.  We couldn’t go back again for fear of obesity.   We could barely walk out.  Besides the food she gave us the history of the town.  She suggested we might have to look farther out in the desert for our bird.  Everyone in Maricopa has heard of the bird.  Many have seen it.

So, at dawn we drove east of Petroleum Club Road and down dirt roads among the oil wells.  We found more Bell’s Sparrows and our first Bewick’s Wren of the year.  We walked across another square mile of salt bush desert.  No LeConte’s Thrasher.  We had become discouraged and frustrated.  Were we going to not find the bird on this trip?

We retreated at 9 o’clock to drive up the ridge at the Bitter Creek National Wildlife Refuge.  This preserve was set up to protect roosting and feeding areas for the California Condor.  The birds supposedly leave the roost at mid-morning and often fly off the ridge and over the Carrizo Plain.  We parked and perched at a lookout to watch for them.  Two hours later we left.  We had enjoyed watching Northern Ravens and Red-tailed Hawks soaring in the bright blue sky, but no condors. 

We have seen condor before in Utah, but until this year they were not considered “countable” by the American Birding Association.  So, a sighting would add it to our life list.  That will have to come at a future date.
From the lookout we drove up into the pine forest where we parked at the Apache Pass Ranger Station and looked for upland birds among the snow.  We found Western Bluebirds among the pines.

Eventually we returned to the valley and arrived again at Petroleum Club Road in late afternoon.  This time we parked farther north and made a long loop by foot through the salt bush.  Nothing.  We returned to the road just before sunset and began the trudge back to the car.  Scanning the sun-lit bushes I saw a pale bird in the distance.  It looked like just another White-crowned Sparrow, but I brought up the binoculars.  It was not a sparrow.  I studied the pale face and the dark tail and then the breast and flanks.  When I saw pink under the tail I called to Anne saying  “I think this is our bird.”

A minute’s study confirmed it was the thrasher, but the tail looked almost black and that confused us at first.  One does not notice the dark tail in the field guides.  There the bird seems uniformly pale.  We held our position for a time so as not to spook it and continue our study and joy of observation.  Then we slowly moved toward it stopping for  better views.  The thin bill was scarcely visible from our original position.  Now it was clearly long and curved.  We moved in a bit closer and enjoyed even better views.  Then the bird retreated into the bush and reappeared on the ground.  We saw a second bird there and watched them for some time as they moved from bush to bush running like roadrunners across the sand in the now fading light.  Our faith in our skills and in the sport had been restored.

We reached the car and drove to the next town up the road, Taft, to take a draft and to dine at the microbrew pub.  I told the waiter that his was the most advertised restaurant on the West Side.  He said that was because he also published the newspaper.  We toasted our no longer nemesis bird, the LeConte’s Thrasher.

We could now relax during our last evening in Maricopa.  We had previously decided to move northeast the next morning and seek the thrasher at Jawbone Canyon and lodge for two nights at Lake Isabella.  We would make our move, but we would not have to keep searching for the thrasher.  There were other birds and places to see.

So, instead of rushing to the canyon, we went instead to California City in the Mojave Desert.  Our reference suggested that the town park pond often yielded interesting birds.  We thought a city park would be a pleasant stop.  It was pretty but yielded few birds of interest.  We found Great-tailed Grackles and many coots.  Still winter.  No migrants.

From there we went to Red Rock Canyon State Park where we walked up a canyon and picnicked at the campground.  A Great-horned Owl hooted from the wall of the canyon above the campground.  We could never see it.  We did hear and then saw a Cactus Wren, one of Anne’s favorites.

Our last in-transit stop was at the Audubon Kern River Preserve near Weldon.  It was quiet in late afternoon.  One other couple arrived ahead of us and made a short walk.  We made the long loop and found a decent assortment of birds including a fabulous male Costa’s Hummingbird.   A Red-shouldered Hawk was circling and calling to announce the coming spring.  We enjoyed a wonderful day of stress-free birding.

We arrived at the Lake View Motel in Mountain Mesa at dusk and found it to be old but very well maintained.  The host gave us a birders’ discount.  His wife had worked for the forest service and “knew a few birds.”  We enjoyed their hospitality.  The lake, shrunk to near nothing by the long drought was scarcely in view.

Having only one day there we debated making a drive around the lake and up into the mountains or going down to the desert and Butterbredt Springs.  I had hoped we could reach the nearest Giant Sequoia grove, but word had it that the road was still closed with snow.  So, we decided to take our SUV down the Kelso Valley Road and over the sand Butterbredt Canyon road to the spring instead of going around on the highway.  That was our best decision of the trip. 

Shortly after we turned off the highway we saw two large birds flying.  The little one was a Red-tailed Hawk.  The other was a Golden Eagle.  I pulled the car over and the bird flew to the road and perched on a pole about fifty meters out.  Incredible.  It seemed too large and I worried it might be electrocuted when it took off among the wires.   As it pulled away I thought it an anachronism, a dinosaur in modern time.  May these great birds continue to inhabit the earth and avoid the eagle chopping windmills!

The drive and its many stops yielded California Quail, California Thrasher, California Towhee, and Spotted Towhee.  I guess we were in California.  More good western species for us Easterners.  The sandy Butterbredt Canyon Road would have been very scary in our car.  With the SUV there was no problem.  The reportedly birdy spring yielded more Lawrence’s Goldfinch but not much else new.  We chose to make this trip in winter for the thrasher and knew we would be too early for the spring migration.  No problem.  A small heard of cattle joined us at the spring. 

The next day we drove from the desert to Moro Bay, one of our favorite places.  Our seashore motel was fine and the room had a view of the famous Moro Rock.  We dined on seafood. 

The next morning started out foggy.  We drove along the bay to the Rock checking out the loons to find a Pacific Loon.  We found only Common Loon there but found the Pacific in the afternoon at Montanas de Oro State Park.  At the beach we found surfers and hundreds of Long-billed Curlew, Marbled Godwit, and Willet.  We also spotted a Peregrine Falcon high on the rock among nesting Pelagic and Brandt’s Cormorants.  Many Surf Scoters floated on the ocean just beyond the breakers. 

As we drove to the state park we made various stops to see the local bird life and the wonderful coastal cypress trees.  At the park we first walked down to the sea again.  As Anne used the facilities at the parking lot a flock of Band-tailed Pigeons flew out of the trees and seemed about to land on the chaparral when something spooked them.  By the time Anne emerged they had disappeared.  She missed a fine view of this lovely species.  We saw no more on the trip.  An Orange-crowned Warbler was singing in the willows and an Anna’s Hummingbird was on post on a snag.

At the beach we looked for “rock birds” but found only Black Turnstone.  Many sandpipers were on the beach.  Scanning the rocks I found several Whimbrel.  I almost overlooked them thinking they were curlews.  After lunch we walked around the campground where we heard an accelerating “ping pong ball like” trill coming from the chaparral.  I knew it was early in the season, but the song sounded like that of the Black-chinned Sparrow.  We made a hike into the desert to find the bird but failed.  Then I asked Anne to play a recording of the California Towhee.  On hearing it we realized that this was the song we were hearing.  Now I know that the towhee and sparrow have similar songs. 

Fish and Chips for supper that night.  The next day we had to drive to San Francisco.  I decided we should stop at the Cerro Alto Park.  This could yield a few new birds and the Pacific race of Bell’s Sparrow.  Unlike the interior race which nest in salt bush on flat desert, the Pacific race finds a home on chaparral covered hillsides. 

There were a couple of problems with this plan.  First, the birds are known not to begin singing until April.  Second, the location of the local population was about three miles up the mountain.  Still, it was a plan.  We arrived at the park and first birded along the road.  We found bird activity there, but nothing new.  Then we drove to the campground and started up the trail.  I told Anne we would go as far as she wished.  The scenery was pleasant and there were many blooms including  clematis and  ceonothus.  The live oaks provided occasional shade as the day became warm.  We finally decided to continue to the Bell’s Sparrow habitat.  We reached it late in the morning but crossed about a quarter mile of the habitat and heard and saw no birds.

At that point I suggested we make the song.  We pulled out the recorder and played several rounds of the Bell’s Sparrow serenade.  A bird appeared on a nearby snag.  It was a Bell’s Sparrow.  It made several “whisper songs” and dropped back into the brush.  We had now seen both subspecies of Bell’s Sparrow on the expedition.  Sweet.  We hiked back to the car and found our way to U.S. 101 and high tailed it to the city.  Passing a rest area Anne spotted a Yellow-billed Magpie.  What a fine last bird of the expedition.