Now You See It: Big Day 2015
Bird number 191: Upland Sandpiper. Photo by Pesayo/Carolinabirds.org
by Frank Gallo
Associate Director
Milford Point Coastal Center
It started as it always does, with the five of us standing together at midnight, in a marsh in Hartford County, with high hopes.
Our team — the Connecticut Audubon Society’s Raven Lunatics (Nick Bonomo, Patrick Dugan, Dave Tripp, Fran Zygmont and me) — was beginning its annual Big Day, a 24-hour birding competition and fundraiser for the Coastal Center at Milford Point. We hoped to raise $7,500 in pledges to support the center’s educational and conservation initiatives. It would also be a chance to best our Big Day record of 192 species and to finally reach our goal of finding 200 species in a 24-hour period in Connecticut, which no team in New England has accomplished.
It was overcast and still, with just a few green frogs calling from the marsh — good conditions for hearing birds. Our targets were Least Bittern and rails, and we hoped for a bonus Eastern Screech Owl and a few migrating thrushes. We stood in silence. After 10 minutes of intense listening, our tally was just three: a Great Blue Heron had squawked from the marsh, and Swainson’s Thrushes and a Veery had called overhead. It was time to leave.
Our next stop garnered a Virginia Rail, but not the Sora we had found on our scouting trips in preceding days, so we raced to our next stop, and new targets: Upland Sandpiper, Horned Lark, and Grasshopper Sparrow. It was not to be; we went one-for-three, missing Upland Sandpiper and Horned Lark. Although it was not an auspicious beginning, we knew there was always the next night. We’d have to make up any misses then.
Our route took us west toward Litchfield County and right into a fast-moving storm cell. Unsettled weather can be good on a Big Day, causing migrants to drop to avoid the storms. The trick for the team is to work around them. As the storm blew through and light rain settled in, we stood straining to hear a Whip-poor-will from the side of the road. Only three of us could make out its distant calls, so it went down on the list as “dirty” (not seen or heard by all team members). For a Big Day tally, 95 percent of the birds have to be seen or heard by everyone. Unfortunately, all our other Whip-poor-will stops were silent. There would be no more Whip-poor-wills this night. The list of birds to make up the following evening was growing.
Finally, we caught a break in the weather and with the birds. An Eastern Screech Owl flew in and whinnied at our back-up screech spot, and a pair of Great Horned Owls dueted right on schedule, accompanied by the unexpected and haunting sounds of a Common Loon yodeling in the fog on an adjacent lake. To our surprise, a Sora greeted us at our scouted American Bittern stop, singing loudly to the accompaniment of not one but two booming American Bitterns. We spend a great deal of time scouting out birds before the Big Day, and our efforts were paying dividends.
With spirits lifted, we raced off, fingers crossed, in hopes of finding two of our most difficult nocturnal targets: Northern Saw-whet and Long-eared Owls. The Saw-whet was fairly cooperative, the Long-eared much less so. Just as we were really starting to worry we’d miss it, several loud staccato barks and twitters echoed forth from the forest. The Long-eared had finally spoken. Long-eared Owls are one of the most enigmatic and elusive breeding birds to locate in Connecticut, and we go many years without finding one. This was a big bonus for our day’s list. Although our tally was behind our record day’s pace, we were close, and we had some quality finds and a chance to make up misses later.
Dawn came late — so late, in fact, that the very vocal White-throated Sparrow we had scouted decided to sleep in, and for another year went uncounted. This bird has become our nemesis.
Despite the lack of singing migrants, the morning went well. We were pleased to tally most of the northwest highland breeders, including Broad-winged Hawk, Blue-headed Vireo, Northern Junco, Winter Wren, Hermit Thrush, Canada Warbler, and Purple Finch. We were gaining steadily on our record year’s pace.
We lucked out at our Blue-gray Gnatcatcher stop, snagging Red-tailed Hawk (difficult on rainy days), Hooded Merganser (we didn’t know a nest location this year), and Kingfisher (always a tough find), even though we missed the Gnatcatcher and had to find another later. A last-minute scouting find, a territorial Worm-eating Warbler on our route, was singing when we arrived, but the four nearby Hooded Warblers that were present and singing all week were now silent — go figure. However, to our great surprise, in their place was a singing Kentucky Warbler! It was a new county bird for everyone, including Fran and Dave who live in the area, and a new addition to our cumulative Big Day species list. Another huge find was added to the tally. Things were starting to jell.
Our day really got interesting as we left the northwest corner and headed south. A last-minute reroute — something we almost never do — paid off. The afternoon before the Big Day, five very difficult species had been reported in a small area in Southbury (thank you, Russ Naylor!): White-eyed Vireo, Eastern Meadowlark, White-crowned and Lincoln’s Sparrows, and Yellow-breasted Chat. They were close enough to our route that we rolled the dice and took a chance. Happily, we left the Southbury area with all but the Meadowlark. We’d never found a Lincoln’s Sparrow or Chat on a Big Day before, and White-eyed Vireo and White-crowned Sparrow are only recorded occasionally. This was a monumental stop, and I will long remember the Chat calling from a vine tangle, while the Lincoln’s Sparrow sang and chipped from his brush pile across the street. Oh, wait, it gets even better.
As we passed through Waterbury, the Peregrine was sitting on the sign that is his usual perch and made for a satisfying 60-mile-per-hour tick as we drove south. Our new route made it feasible to add stops for two other birds seen the day before – Pine Siskins and Prothonotary Warbler. They were only six minutes off the originally scheduled route, and just getting one would be worth the detour. Pine Siskins have hung around this year and were being reported from several locations. One was at Jim and Carol Zipp’s feeders in Hamden, where Jim had also seen a male Prothonotary nearby the day before our run. Our odds of finding the warbler were probably low, but the Siskin seemed a good bet. We were stunned speechless when the Prothonotary Warbler started singing and then flew across the trail right in front of us, its blazing chromium yellow head glowing in the sun. Jim greeted us when we arrived a few minutes later at his house, and pointed out the feeder the Siskin preferred. A Carolina Wren dropped into an adjacent feeder (new for the day), and seconds later, the Siskin landed. Check, and check. This was starting to look like it could be a really good day…
We raced for the coast, picking up Cliff Swallows and a slew of scouted raptors. Would the male Bufflehead that Patrick and I had scouted still be in Edgewood Park? It had looked a bit ill the day before; we were hoping it was hanging in and feeling better. Happily, for all concerned, it was right were we left it.
Green Heron is an interesting bird in mid-May. Although I saw several along our route during the previous week, they are often elusive on the day itself. The team had yet to locate one before we reached the coast. Fortunately, Vanessa Mickan and I had found three birds and two nests at Mondo Pond. It was a done deal …
I should know better; it’s never a done deal. When we arrived, the nest at the east end of the pond was empty, and the nest Vanessa found to the west was obscured by leaves. Fortunately, a last-ditch run to the west end, a lucky gap in the leaves, and the heron was ours. This is why knowing nest locations for certain species is so important to a successful Big Day. As we were readying to leave, Patrick, who had lagged behind, arrived, and to our amazement, announced he’d just seen a Swallow-tailed Kite gliding low over the main lake heading east where it may have landed. You’ve never seen 5 guys move so fast — but we were too late. We spent a little time searching the skies as we headed to the highway, but to no avail. It was another “dirty bird,” but we’d take it. Incredible! Unprecedented! Amazing! This could be a really, really good day!
We planned to stop next at either Stratford or Milford, depending on the tides. The tides were perfect for Milford Point, so we headed there, slowing down and waving at the Bald Eagle on its nest as we went by.
The Point was hopping. From the parking lot platform overlooking the marsh, we turned up two Red-throated Loons, several Glossy Ibis, a Peregrine, Least Terns, a singing Orchard Oriole, and a slew of other new species. There were hundreds of shorebirds on the sandbars on the Long Island Sound side. Just as we set up and started scoping, the Peregrine bombed the bars, flushing all the shorebirds. We couldn’t believe it. We watched as they all headed to Stratford. Fortunately, Nick was able to pick out a White-rumped Sandpiper, one of our targets, among the plovers and peeps.
We were preparing to leave when a small shorebird flock returned to the bars near us. It was like one-stop shopping. There were Ruddy Turnstones, Short-billed Dowitchers, Black-bellied and Semi-palmated Plovers, Least and Semi-palmated Sandpipers, and two rather pink-looking large shorebirds sleeping. I kept looking at them waiting for one to lift its head. Bingo, two Red Knots, one of our other target birds for Milford and Stratford. Things were really looking good. Nick picked out three Long-tailed Ducks and some White-winged Scoters offshore. It had been a very productive stop. A quick look from the tower for Northern Harrier earned us a “dirty” Sanderling that slipped into a channel before everyone could get on it and a Greater Yellowlegs. If our luck held, there would be Sanderlings in Stratford.
We cruised through Stratford, hitting target after target. The Yellow-crowned Night-Heron and Monk Parakeets were on their nests, Lesser Yellowlegs was near the ball field, Sanderlings were at Long Beach, and Boat-tailed Grackles were on the Causeway, but we were unable to find Gadwall. There had been only three pair seen during scouting. We had just one more shot for them, but as a consolation prize, the Wilson’s Warbler that Dan Mercurio and I had found two days earlier was still on the railroad trail. Check.
We left Stratford at 4 p.m. with 180 species, with sunny skies and more than 4-1/2 hours of good light left! We had 21 scouted birds still to get, and with a little luck, maybe a few extras thrown in. We now had a good chance of breaking the New England record of 195 species, and 200 species was clearly in our sights. We’ve always said that given the right day, we could get to 200, and it looked like this might be that day.
We picked off a Black Vulture in New Haven before speeding off to Shell Beach in Branford for Solitary Sandpiper; it was a long shot, even though there had been one there the day before. The habitat was not conducive to holding it there. Not surprisingly, it had left. We raced east to our next stop. Our targets: Purple Sandpiper, Terns, and Scoters. As we rounded the corner to the overlook we were met with a wall of fog. No! We couldn’t believe it. Not today! We couldn’t see 30 yards off the beach. Fortunately, one lone Purple Sandpiper was 29 yards out on a rock. A clutch save, but there was no hope for ducks or terns. We left and headed farther east, hoping the fog would clear.
Stop after stop, nothing but fog. Hammonasset was so shrouded that we couldn’t see the traffic circle, yet 30 yards inland it was clear and sunny. All we could do was press on and hope for the best. We arrived at the cemetery marsh in Clinton to sunshine and a light breeze; the flock of Glossy Ibis were feeding in the marsh, but there was no sign of the White-faced Ibis that had been with them all week. A Black Vulture watched us from the roof of the church across the street. Just as we were about to leave, a lone Ibis landed in the marsh. It was the whitest-faced White-faced Ibis I’ve ever seen!
We pressed on east. Here I should relay Nick’s favorite moment of the day. Nick had scouted an Iceland Gull that had been consistently hanging in Old Saybrook at one of three beaches. It would be quite a trick to pull a white bird out of the fog. Stop one: fog and no birds. Stop two: fog and not a single bird. Stop three: more of the same.
As we were leaving, Nick remembered a short bit of beach we hadn’t checked, so we swung over to have a look. Patrick and I found a lone bird on the beach and were trying to identify it when Nick shouted that he’d found the Iceland Gull on the beach. We looked up, and he seemed to be looking at the bird we were looking at. He said, “Watch, as it turns, you can see the white wingtips.” We couldn’t see any white in the wings from our angle, so Patrick and I walked closer to the bird. Nick called out, “Look, you can see the white wings as it turns.” Our bird wasn’t turning, so I scanned the beach again. As I looked to the right, I saw Nick’s Iceland Gull standing farther up the beach, just as Patrick yelled out, “It’s a Laughing Gull.” We all looked up and realized we were looking at two different birds 10 feet apart. Both were new for the day, and they were the only birds visible on the beach. Sometimes things work out in your favor.
My favorite moment of the day came minutes later. Just down the road from the Iceland Gull, Nick had scouted a Little Blue Heron and a pair of Gadwall. When we arrived at the site, the fog had lifted slightly and we could see Least Sandpipers feeding on the mudflats. Slowly a large shape materialized behind them; it was the Little Blue Heron. It walked slowly toward us as it fed. While watching it, we realized there were two birds right behind it: the Gadwall pair.
We were at 189 species. It was incredible: despite the fog, we had beaten last year’s record of 188 and could still beat our all-time record of 192. We headed back to Guilford in hopes that the fog had lifted and we’d be able to see our scouted Scoters and Scaup. No luck, so we decide to go inland. In Durham, we added number 190, American Woodcock. We tried for Least Bittern but the marsh was quiet. We saw lightning and heard thunder booming in the distance. Radar showed a major storm cell bearing down on us from the northwest. It was red; red is not good, but it was moving 30 miles an hour. A few quick calculations and we realized we could get past it with time to bird in the Hartford area. The strategy worked. At 11:20, with the wind howling through the trees and us tucked in the lee of a swale, we heard our final bird of the night. It was an Upland Sandpiper, it’s mournful cry wailing into the storm. It was our 191st, bird, one short of our record. It seemed a fitting end to the day.
It is with mixed feelings that I finish this recount of our 2015 Big Day. In one sense, it was a day to always remember. An incredible day, really. When will we ever have another Big Day with Kentucky and Prothonotary Warblers, Yellow-breasted Chat, Pine Siskin, Lincoln’s and White-crowned Sparrows, White-faced Ibis and an amazing Swallow-tailed Kite? Probably never. And in that sense, I feel both joy and a sense of loss for what almost was.
However, we stood on the edge and looked 200 species in the eye. We’ve seen into the future. We know 200 is possible, and we will make it a reality.
We want to thank all our new and long-time supporters of the Connecticut Audubon Society Coastal Center and our team, the Raven Lunatics. We can’t do this without your generosity and support. The Connecticut birding community once again provided us with heaps of information about the whereabouts of our many target species, from ducks to loons and grebes. We thank you all.
For those who would still like to contribute towards our $7,500 goal, it’s not too late. Here’s the link.
Thank you once again. It was a great run. We’ll be back next year to do it again!
