Diario de yonatansimkovich

After going for so long with so little actual birding done, I was eager to make the most of my brief (June 17-July 2) stay in Chicago. A Black-tailed Gull, of all things, showed up in the first few days of June, but didn’t stay for long. A Snowy Plover was found a few days later within a mile of where the gull was found, but it too fled for different shores. So with nothing much to chase, I arrived in one of the dullest times of the year; when the breeders have slowed their singing and the shorebirds have not yet begun to flow back from their Arctic breeding grounds.
I still felt the immediate urge to go “into the field”, however, so the day after I landed in Chicago I headed down to Montrose. The pair of Piping Plovers, Imani and Sea Rocket, have chosen the protected beach as their breeding grounds, gifting the Chicago birding community with hopes of a successful nest. I was able to see Imani feeding very close to the pier next to a trio of 3 Semipalmated Sandpipers - very late migrants considering the time of year. Gulls and terns filled the beach, but I couldn’t find the Bonaparte’s Gull that was being seen on and off, and so after making a stop by the Bank Swallow colony I headed home.
Several days later, I took my 12 year old sister with me to Linne Woods. The Barred Owls that nest there are hard to find this time of year, with the trees’ leaves blocking views of most branches, but we got there early anyways and I was able to relearn the local songs much quicker than I thought I would. We had great views of a Great Blue Heron fishing by the river, and surprisingly a Yellow-billed Cuckoo sang several times! They’re quite common in the summer provided one is in the right habitat, but they prefer creeping around the treetops rather than singing, let alone going into the open.
After a storm several days later, the sky turned clear and the wind began to blow from the west. If I was to see any good shorebirds over these few weeks, this is when I knew I would be able to see them, so I told my sister to get ready to go to Montrose. Checking my phone, it seemed that other birders had the same thoughts; several were already there and had found a flock of Willets. The real spectacle, though, lay in the seiches that flooded into the usually calm inlet with surprising violence, and then spilled out into the lake with currents constantly moving every way. A swimmer’s nightmare, but we were safe up on the pier and saw this uncommon event play out for fifteen minutes before the water finally rushed out for the last time. We left the beach a few minutes later, but with the beach now above water due to the lack of flooding, the Willets flew back and we were able to run back and enjoy the storm-blown wanderers. We were also able to see both plovers and a Cliff Swallow, which is uncommon in the summer outside of known nesting sites.
I was quite busy during this time with shopping, packing, and of course spending time with my family, but I was able to make one nostalgia-fueled run to Lighthouse Beach. The protected beach there had Ring-billed and Herring Gulls and a few Caspian Terns, but nothing else of note. A couple of Cliff Swallows flew over, and 2 Song Sparrows were singing in the dunes.
For my last day, several other birders and I headed to Goose Lake Natural Area up in McHenry County to look for breeding specialties. The long walk to the marsh through a strip of forest habitat brought Cedar Waxwings, Yellow Warblers, and Indigo Buntings, and my hesitation in identifying them reminded me of just how long I’ve been away from familiar ground. Upon reaching the marsh, we had great views of up to a dozen Yellow-headed Blackbirds, a lifer Black Tern gliding above the water, Cliff Swallows, and a Virginia Rail called a couple of times which I unfortunately was not able to hear. While talking with Paul Quintas on the way back to the car, who had organized this trip, (see my first-ever post), he suddenly pointed to a large rabbit sized animal on the path, we lifted up our binoculars, and it was a beautiful male Ring-necked Pheasant! True to its shy character, it skittered off the path several seconds later, and we weren’t able to refind it for the others who were far behind us.
Checking my phone, I saw that four Black-necked Stilts had been reported at a fluddle within 10 minutes of where we were, with word of a breeding plumage American Golden-Plover at a separate fluddle also nearby! We decided to prioritize the stilts and pulled up to the side of the road to the largest fluddle I’ve ever seen, maybe several hundred feet across. (A fluddle is a term used by inland birders to describe a puddle large enough to draw in shorebirds, and often forms after heavy rain by beaches or fields.) After a bit of scanning, we successfully found one of the stilt pairs, and also a lone Cliff Swallow (what is it with me and Cliff Swallows?). Looking at previous reports, I saw that a late female Bufflehead had been reported here - and a look through a scope turned a distant duck I had dismissed as a Mallard into a bird that should be far, far north this time of year.
With limited time, we decided to skip the plover (which didn’t end up being reported again after the initial sighting) and head home, temporarily capping off my 2024 Illinois list at 63 species, which is a decent number for a relatively low-effort two weeks at the end of June.
Headed to camp now for a month, this time in the mountains of NE Pennsylvania…

This Passover vacation I planned to stick around with my family who lives nearby, then go up to my family in Kfar Tavor (Galilee area) and then come back. Spring migration was finally heating up, and so I decided on April 12 to do a birding run through Jerusalem, where many good birds were being seen. The first stop was Gazelle Valley, a small nature reserve in the southwest section of the city proper. Only one minute in I had an overdue lifer in Greater Whitethroat, and in the small pond were the long-awaited Ferruginous Ducks. No other interesting ducks were there and no hawks were flying overhead, so I walked through the scrubland encountering good numbers of blackcaps and Lesser Whitethroats, a Chukar enjoying the shade under a tree, and a Collared Flycatcher that wouldn’t pose for photos but was willing to do so for binoculars.
As I should have expected, the Jerusalem Botanical Garden would cost money to enter; but it has less habitat than Gazelle Valley so it didn’t matter that much. While continuing my walk to Wohl Rose Garden, I picked up a Eurasian Hoopoe and another expected lifer, Eurasian Crag-Martin. But looking on Google Maps, the garden also appeared to be closed, this time to all visitors presumably due to construction.
So with plenty of time to kill, I bought some delicious coffee at Sacher Park and spent some time at the Jerusalem Bird Observatory. Many more blackcaps, and a Common Reed Warbler, and suddenly, a bird that was not all on my radar in the form of a Barred Warbler.
The streak of goodies continued with a Eurasian Skylark and a pair of Collared Flycatcher back in the local patch on the 15th, but I was quickly running out of local targets. Thankfully, the Galilee brought new scenery and new habitat. I wasn’t able to seriously bird for nearly a week, but I made up for it by trekking in some fields to reach a sewage pond as the sun was just getting over the horizon. There weren’t any shorebirds besides Spur-winged Lapwings, but a Little Egret and a Glossy Ibis were waking up in a large tree and a couple of Black-winged Kites were flying around. With the help of Merlin, I was able to notice and see several Great Reed Warblers and a Sedge Warbler. The next day, I looked out of the balcony window and noticed a large raptor flying low in the fields immediately behind the house! I ran out and was able to get great views of my first Western Marsh Harrier, an excellent bird that I could’ve watched for hours. It flew north, however, so I looked to the south for more migrants but could only turn up two STSEs (Short-toed Snake-Eagles) and three likely local Eurasian Kestrels.
Upon return from my trip up north I decided that I had to do at least one birding trip to a mega hotspot in Israel this year. After a bit of deliberation I decided on Ma’agan Michael, a coastal collection of fishponds halfway between Tel Aviv and Haifa. It wasn’t so easy to get to by bus and I would only be getting there by midday, but the visions of shorebirds and rivers of herons kept me going. Walking to the fishponds north of the entrance, I immediately noticed the large flocks of Common Terns enjoying the free fish lunch menu. The only time I had previously seen this bird was at Montrose in 2019, which I have yet to enter into my eBird account. Of course, there were much better birds to be seen, as I notched Little Tern, Purple Heron, and Squacco Heron, but I was still looking for that shorebird habitat. Finally, I stumbled across a fishpond with an amount of mud that some Black-winged Stilts, Little Stints and Wood Sandpipers had deemed satisfactory. But after some of them took off and flew south of the main path, I decided to follow them in hopes of finding something more. And the “more” turned out to be “more awesome than any shorebird experience I’ve ever had.” On one hand, I love shorebirds at Montrose and at other coastal spots, where rarities occasionally drop in and they are easy to see, but they are always few in numbers. I hate shorebirds at Techny and other inland locations, as they always seem to be far away and below me, even though they can show up there in large flocks. At this one fishpond, I had the best of both.
The edges were teeming with dozens of Little Stints, plus a Ruff and Spotted Redshank. After a bit of examination, I was able to find 4 small birds that were a bit different than the Little Stint surrounding them - Broad-billed Sandpipers, a very uncommon bird worldwide and the first record for Israel in 2024 for this migratory bird away from Eilat! Many other birds of species too numerous to mention here also were gathered in this one area, and I happily soaked it in before all too soon it was time to catch the bus back. This was the first and last “real” birding trip I had in Israel this year, and I’ll definitely have to come back.
A few days later, the highlight of the year arrived: The annual trip to Eilat. On the way, we stopped at several spots in the “Negev”, the rocky desert that makes up the vast majority of the southern half of the country. The first stop was a “Makhtesh”, a word with no English equivalent. It refers to a large crater-shaped valley not made by a crater, and it’s an incredible sight, almost like a circular Grand Canyon complete with standalone plateaus in the middle. At the beginning and end of the hike I was able to walk near and in a few riverbeds and enjoy the unique sight of migrating passerines feeding in the desert alongside the ones that belonged there. The best bird was a sharp-looking White-crowned Wheatear, and a Red-backed Shrike was hunting near it. At the rim of the makhtesh were some Desert Lark and Brown-necked Ravens offered fantastic looks, and a pair of Scrub Warblers gave fleeting views as they ran on the ground from one patch of cover to the next. Blackcaps, whitethroats, and Spotted Flycatchers were all in abundance as they searched for the necessary fuel to get them further north.
The next morning we woke up early to tackle one of the toughest hikes in Israel, Har Shlomo. For someone who grew up in Chicago with no mountaineering experience, I had to pay careful attention to what I was doing, but once again I was able to spot the range-restricted White-crowned Wheatear on the way in. As we were on a relatively easy spot on a ridge, I looked towards the desert below and saw a large flock of Common Buzzards circling at eye level, with more and more streaming from the south to join the kettle by the minute! But we had to head on, and there wasn’t much else to see for the rest of the exhausting trek.
Although it isn’t a very good idea to try to use binoculars while tubing, I was able to get good naked-eye views of a small flock of White Storks moving north while holding on for dear life. Definitely one of the funnest things I’ve ever done, birding while tubing, now if only the Yellow-billed Stork that showed up that morning had decided to arrive in the afternoon…unfortunately the Eilat Bird Observatory wasn’t a place that I had time to sneak off to.

Although early May is generally reliable for spectacular numbers of European Honey-Buzzards and Levant Sparrowhawks, they simply never showed up. Instead, the city underwent an invasion of European Bee-Eaters, which isn’t something I’ll ever get bored of seeing but I was hoping for something I wouldn’t easily be able to see further north.
We slept that night in a town called Coral Beach a few kilometers down the coast from Eilat. There were reliable reports of Lichtenstein's Sandgrouse nearby, but from what I saw there was no way to easily access that area. But I did have the chance to walk around a little before sunset, and standing near a small sandy park I got literally the best views of White-crowned Wheatears I could have asked for without one flying onto my shoe. One hopped onto a log less than five feet away from me, and they seemed to be mildly curious as to what I was doing near their home. Dozens of bee-eaters flew in to roost, and a pair of Tristram’s Starlings flew over.
The next morning I walked near the beach, but couldn’t even pick up a gull. But the wheatears repeated their performance with Blackstarts also showing no fear, and I was able to pick up my only decent migrant of the trip, a Barred Warbler.
Overall, the Eilat trip was a bit of a disappointment - great desert birds, but very little of the fantastic migration that makes it an international destination for birders. It was also one of my last birding trips for a while, as migration cooled down and the weather heated up to insane temperatures. But in the week after I got back the weather was slightly bearable, and I was able to finally hear a Wood Lark, saw large flocks of bee-eaters, and added an unexpected flyover Bank Swallow to the village list which finished at 78 with Israel closing out with 133.

With the, you know, war, birds weren’t really my focus this year. There were many obstacles to birding this year, with most places in the Hula Valley closed for example, but frankly I didn’t care compared to the other much more serious effects of the situation. Next year will likely result in more outings to places like Ma’agan Michael, but there still won’t be so many of them, which again is just a first-world problem.

I’m writing this back at home in Chicago, where I’m going to be for around 2 weeks. Then a month at a camp, this time on the northeastern side of Pennsylvania, and then back for another year in Israel. Whew!

I haven’t written in a while, as I’ve often been too busy to bird or write. So I’ll just sum up the top 10 moments of 2024 until now, so that way my posts can get back to the present. I’ve been able to get outside of my local area a couple of times, including once to Tel Aviv, and from May 1-3 will likely be the highly anticipated trip to Eilat! I only have 74 species so far this year, but there’s been good quality. Although I’ve heard much of March magic here, it really didn’t seem to happen this year. Only now in early April do things really seem to start flowing. Here in Israel, there is often a high amount of individuals of common species and many high-quality species, but often low diversity and a low amount of high-quality species per month. It takes many outings, therefore, to see the specialties, but eventually more and more are ticked off of the lists.

10 Great Spotted Cuckoo

These guys were being reported everywhere, but as much as I kept on scanning the tops of trees for them they never seemed to appear. After looking at so many checklists with pictures of them that their image was practically burned into my brain, I took a walk one afternoon with a very specific target bird - and got it! Short views of a common but handsome bird were to be had before it took off.

9 Yellowhammer

This one marked the beginning of spring migration. A surprise encounter with an early wryneck on the hill left me wondering whether any other good migrants were in store. A hotspot nearby was busy at the time with birders chasing its wandering flock of Fieldfares, along with Yellowhammers and Corn Buntings and many other good wintering passerines. Nonetheless, it was quite a shock when a suspicious dot in a tree turned out not to be a group of House Sparrows but three Yellowhammers, one of them a stonking male!

8 Gray Heron

This one is more location based. There were only 9 records in my region due to lack of habitat, one of them my own from the end of last year. So two Gray Herons fishing in a fishless sewage pond was a good find, and best of all, they stuck around for the next few days for a couple of other local birders.

7 Woodchat Shrike

My one good day in March started off quite slowly, but scanning some bushes revealed a lifer Woodchat Shrike glowing in the sunlight. An unmistakable and much-wanted bird, that was willing to just sit still as I admired it from multiple angles. Whereas in Chicago every shrike is noteworthy, here they are neither common nor rare. Nevertheless, I’ve enjoyed every shrike species I’ve seen so far here: Masked, Red-backed, Great Gray, and now Woodchat. And someday that Lesser Gray…

6 Northern Wheatear

For several months I’ve been checking each rock and outcrop for the “rockbirds.” Rock-Thrushes, wheatears, larks, buntings, nothing really seemed to show up. But it had to happen eventually, and previous hours of study made the identification surprisingly easy. The only reliable places to see a Northern Wheatear in the ABA are near or in the Arctic Circle, so it felt very cool to see one here. The best part is that it confirmed that the habitat is good enough for all of the aforementioned possibilities as well, but we’ll see how many more lifer “rockbirds” actually show up.

5 Black Kites + STSE + Common Buzzard

We haven’t had so many group hikes that are a usual feature of the program, but we were finally able to do one at Begin Park on March 17. What followed was the greatest in quantity raptor migration I’ve ever seen. Throughout the morning, literal streams of Black Kites filled the air with a dozen Short-toed Snake-Eagles mixed in. Around three large dark eagles went unidentified as they never came low enough, but an overdue pair of Common Buzzards flew over just within binocular range. An interesting way to detect migrating hawks is to look for migrating swifts, as they often seem to migrate near each other.

4 Black-headed Gull

This one felt like cheating. I can’t help it, I’ve been birding in the United States for the past 14 years, where Black-headed Gull is a sought-for species only seen in the dead of the winter on cold Atlantic beaches or inland reservoirs. How could I ever justify seeing this bird in Israel, where its native habitat includes an urban park in Tel Aviv year-round? While visiting my grandparents and uncle and aunt in the Tel Aviv area, we went on a walk to HaYarkon Park, a place where they are quite reliable. It did feel like cheating, but they still did get me excited when I finally spotted them, flying around a small lake, and I got decent views of them in flight.

3 Common Snipe

The day after the gulls, we went on a walk to the Rosh Tzippor Birdwatching Center. I was hoping for Squacco Heron or Common Snipe. We peeked through all of the hides, but besides for some kingfisher action there wasn’t that much going on. Suddenly, while in the last hide, a Common Snipe flew in, and I got excellent looks at it feeding for several minutes. This is a bird that lives in a habitat that’s pretty tough to find in Israel, and one I probably won’t see for the rest of this year or the next.

2 Semicollared Flycatcher

While walking from the main building to my room, I saw a blur of black and white fly up and land in a tree right next to my dorm. I immediately knew it was a Collared, Semicollared, or European Pied Flycatcher - a lifer and a good patch bird no matter which it was - but I would need binoculars to identify it, which were in my room. The bird flushed, I ran to my room, grabbed the binoculars, and ran out. I wasn’t able to find it though, and a few minutes later I was walking back to the main building, when I spotted the bird flush again. I sprinted back to my room again, grabbed binoculars again, went to go find it again, and eventually got stellar looks at a Semicollared Flycatcher, the 6th area record. The next bird was also a chase in more ways than one…

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1. Fieldfare
   This is a bird in the very south of its range, and small nomadic flocks show up in several places in the country each winter. This year, a group of over 100 decided to spend the middle of the winter near a city around half a mile away just across a highway. Not having my own car anymore meant that the birds might as well be on the other side of the country, and I gave them up as a lost cause. I was once able to spot a flock of birds that were probably the Fieldfares, but they never flew any closer than a quarter of a mile away. On the 20th of February, though, a 60 or so strong flock of large passerines flew right above my head but I wasn’t able to get a good look at any of them. I sprinted after where a small portion of them appeared to have landed, before they could take off and join the rest of the flock which had already flown out of reach. I got to the spot and boom! was able to get looks of the several Fieldfares perched in faraway trees that were high enough to not be hidden by an olive grove. After taking some pictures, they took off, and left the neighborhood for good several days later. An easy choice for the top spot, and far and away the best bird of the year so far.

Winter in Israel brings a different type of cold than in Chicago. It’s a deceivingly mild 40 degrees from November through January, but with such a strong dose of wetness and fog combined with buildings designed to protect against heat, that the indoors feel the same as the outdoors. Fog rolls in each night, and sometimes remains for days at a time. Winds blowing over the hills in a certain way sometimes create a distant howling sound, and in some years (but not this one) it snows. It is quite interesting to adjust to a place where there is no snow even in the depths of the winter, not to mention the fact that it never rains here in the summer!
We had yet to receive the first big rain on November 19th, although it was especially windy. I set out on my usual route, but the wind was keeping everything down except for a Eurasian Sparrowhawk that appeared to successfully nab a pigeon. While walking by some vineyards though, I heard an odd clucking sound. Suspecting a certain overdue lifer I have long been on the lookout for, I scanned the ground and quickly laid eyes on a covey of 8 Chukars! This felt huge, simply because the rate that I have been seeing new birds had really been slowing down. It was also a bit irritating to see many checklists with Chukars on it in the area - until now. As I was still celebrating, the rain began to fall, and very heavily. I didn’t care, even though the rain was effectively being pelted sideways at me, and appreciated my brief views of a commonplace bird instead.
Two days later, I had incredibly awesome looks at a Rock Martin flying around the area - a slightly uncommon bird that usually requires great looks to ID. A Lesser Whitethroat was still lingering, and a Graceful Prinia was a bit of a surprise. A pair of soaring raptors which must have been a distance of a mile or two away - one definitely a huge eagle - sadly remained distant silhouettes, but it did remind me to keep an eye on the sky. As I walked by an overlook with an incredible view, I heard far-off trumpeting calls. Surely it was what I thought it was? And sure enough, a large flock of Common Cranes flew overhead in good lighting, a bird that I was not confident at all in seeing this year!
I went out the next day of course with high expectations, but was unable to identify a dark falcon that quickly swooped by and then continued out of sight. More great looks at the Rock Martin in addition to 4 European Robins, however, were well appreciated.
Thursday was Thanksgiving, and cue the annual Thanksgiving rituals here, such as a Thanksgiving dinner beginning at midnight. While walking back to my dorm after 3 in the morning, I was quite surprised to hear birds singing despite the lack of a full moon. I grabbed my binoculars, and saw multiple blackbirds, and then Merlin picked up my lifer Eurasian Wren - at 3:15 in the morning! I was eventually able to get half-decent views of it under a lamplight as it sang its immensely impressive song. A bizarre way to pick up another overdue lifer.
The first week of December brought not much at all, and then one day, while walking near some vineyards, a stonechat with a very large amount of white on the wing caught my eye. I excitedly focused on the neck, and confirmed a board white collar! Despite the tough challenges from telling it from a European Stonechat, I was pretty confident I had just found a Siberian Stonechat. I saw what I figured was the same bird on the 12th, and on later walks I was not confident that I saw that individual stonechat again. Although for some reason my submission for the bird was rejected, I felt I had taken some pretty convincing photos - or so I thought. Only later, by posting on the Facebook group What’s this Bird, did I learn that the uniformly distributed orange on the underside pointed to European Stonechat and not Siberian.
On December 8th, I went back to the sewage ponds mentioned in an earlier post, chasing a report of a Common Redshank with a possible side bonus of Gray Heron. I saw what was probably the Redshank, but sadly the sun was right behind it. Several Green-winged Teal and a Eurasian Kestrel were ok, but the target bird was sorely missed. The consolation prize was an excellent Bluethroat showing itself nicely as well as a Black Redstart that briefly perched on a roof, both of them lifers. A few days later however, in a nearby city while watching a large flock of Eurasian Jackdaws, a Gray Heron flew over! Given the lack of water in the area, this was a bird that I figured I would have to find at the sewage ponds. It was also my 296th bird of the year, but I knew the chances of getting to 300 were very slim. Not much happened in the next few weeks, except for a stonking male Black Redstart and an increase in Song Thrushes.
With 4 days left in the year, I saw the distinct shape and a faint view of the pattern of a Black Kite heading somewhere in a hurry high overhead, and then 20 minutes later a Long-legged Buzzard flew past! A Hawfinch was a nice bonus, but 3 large distant soaring raptors contributed to the raptor sp. list. Even on a day like this, the number of unidentified raptors outnumbered the identified ones. But that wasn’t the case on the last day of the year, as a kettle of 27 Black Kites gave fantastic views, capping off the year with a bang.
I’ve been keeping it going in 2024, and spring migration is just beginning. More posts to come!

Before the year began, I set four birding goals: Find 200 birds in the academic year. Get 120 species on the village list. Get a Syrian Serin. Find a Cyprus Warbler. None of these goals are going to be easy, but none of them were meant to be.
Fall break was scheduled to kick off with relaxing with friends, but quite a bit of it turned out to be doing things that were decidedly not relaxing with friends instead. I’ve gotten used to walking long distances on flat Midwest ground, but walking for 9 hours while descending 3,000 feet was…different. Painfully different. Maybe if the cushioning on my hiking shoes hadn’t chosen that day to self-destruct and force me to push my entire weight onto a small metal grid things wouldn’t have been different. Things were different, and honestly it wouldn’t have been easy even with great shoes.
Even though there wasn’t much time to stop for birds, I was able to see several ones that I haven’t seen in a few years, like Little Egret and Graceful Prinia. A Common Kingfisher flying past the mangroves on the banks of the Sea of Galilee with a full moon rising over the Jordanian mountains (seriously, I have to switch this blog to a place where I can post photos) was a welcome unexpected addition.
On the afternoon of the 3rd of October I returned back to the town where I’m dorming for the last few days of vacation. The next morning, it finally happened-visible hawk migration! The vast majority of the were probably over a thousand feet high, and most raptors including many likely lifer Levant Sparrowhawks went seen but unconfirmed. But there were 21 Euro Honey-Buzzards, my first Short-toed Snake-Eagle, a Black-winged Kite, and also 4 Red-backed Shrikes. Common Redstarts, a flyby Spur-winged Lapwing, a Eurasian Wryneck were also sweet finds for an awesome day.
The next day was also an overall success - what was perhaps the same Snake-Eagle flying south, a well-seen Eurasian Kestrel, a large dark eagle sp. that never came close enough, and another run in with the water feature in action, resulting in another or the return of a Garden Warbler. The last day of break ended with a quick walk with what ended up being my last wryneck and Spotted Flycatcher of the fall.

On the 23rd, after running into a pair of tame Common Chiffchaffs and a White Wagtail running around the school lawn…..well……the birds are still existent, aren’t they? The next day brought the first Eurasian Collared-Doves for my village list, the local Eurasian Kestrel and Black-winged Kite were giving spectacular views as they alternated between hovering and perching, and a Budgerigar flying away was confirmed after listening to the Merlin recording that happened to be running. Eurasian Blackcaps have steadily been taking over Lesser Whitethroats for the title of most common warbler, with this match ending in a 4-0 rout in favor of the former species. As everyone knows, good birding days warrant more birding, for surely there must be more good birds in the area; bad birding days also warrant more birding for that matter, because they’re all surely waiting until tomorrow to fly to your area.
So out on another quick walk, this time rather quiet with a Common Chiffchaff being the sole highlight, until checking the small corner of the campus that was planted to look like a forest flushed up a Song Thrush - the famed “last spot of the day” effect. Was still waiting on the finches to arrive, but the same White Wagtail again, plus 7 Blackcaps this time.
On the morning of the 29th I had no class, so I went outside and got a pair of lifers instead. 2 European Robins were hiding in some bushes, and several minutes of cautious stalking of a European Stonechat revealed little to no white in the wings. As the winter tightened its grip, the wet and cloudy conditions proved very favorable for Laughing Doves and Eurasian Blackbirds, which increased in number, and I saw them nearly every time I went outside. The campus’s abundant tree-lined paths, one of them having many berry trees, are my path from the dorm to the main building, and in addition to the aforementioned common birds I also nailed 4 Eurasian Siskins - about time! The next two days combined to bring 6 Alpine Swifts, 5 Common Chiffchaffs, 3 Sardinian Warblers, 3 European Robins, 1 European Stonechat, 1 Common Redstart, and 2 White Wagtails, a great improvement from August when exhaustive walks regularly resulted in less than 15 species. Then, on November 7th, loose flocks of finches flying very low from some unknown vantage point led to eventual decent looks in flight, some distant views of perched birds, and boom, my 70 first Common Chaffinches. The next walk brought only a trio of maybe’s on the chaffinch front, but a distant large passerine flew high from the north…behind a tall pine, now in front of it, now on top of it…Hawfinch! Half-bird, half-beak, and finch madness continues. Would a small group of Syrian Serins recently reported in a nearby location be next on the list? It wasn’t to be, but seeing a large flock of siskins offering great naked-eye views was much appreciated.

Will the first half of winter contain more unexpected raptors?
Will I go birding at unscrumptious times?
Will I find a good bird and not be able to identify it?
Will I find a great bird and be able to positively identify it?
Will my great and supposedly correctly identified bird get its identification rejected by my local eBird reviewer?

Yes. Yes to all of them.

So look out for the next post, and may the 2024th be with you.

A disturbing number of bird families here put Empidonax flycatchers to shame. Despair is inevitable, tears are justifiable, and failure a certainty. “There are far too many species”, you may say. “Lump them all!”, you will think after you catch a flash of brown in a bush that could be any of a dozen species. “This bird does not exist. I shall not trouble myself with a nonexistent species that will get lumped next year anyways.” This is, “denial”.
You will then tire of returning to your field guide after walking in the sun for hours only to find out you don’t remember how to separate a Lesser Whitethroat and a Spectacled Warbler, and give up on the entire family as a whole when you realize that it is considered to be one of the easier distinctions between Sylvia warblers. The book will promptly be thrown across the room when you read in a field guide that a surefire way to differentiate Eurasian and Lesser Kestrel is by the color of its claws. This is, “anger”.
In that case, maybe you have decided that the only way to retain your sanity is to seek birds that are easy to identify. You will go out birding, and simply enjoy the ones that don’t give you a migraine. But every reserve with waterfowl seems to have flitting songbirds in its bushes, and every field with bee-eaters seems to have wheatears, until you feel the same urge that pulls you to go birding pulling you towards these birds as well. This is, “bargaining”.
They can’t be dealt with. They don’t fly into your hand and let you count their primaries. They don’t sing despite your telepathic urges. The sage advice of “Species X averages longer-billed and shorter-tailed than Species Y, though there is much overlap. Species X has longer trills in its song, and molts later in the season, giving a variably darker tinge to the primary edges during the start of fall migration” bounces off your brain like an overinflated basketball thrown onto a trampoline. The only line of defense left you have is to lock your door, not look out of any windows, and sleep in every morning. This is, “depression”.
Eventually, one begins to understand that the true meaning of life is to deprive yourself of any sleep or food and find lots of awesome birds instead, and without writing off any birds as unidentifiable. This is, “acceptance”.

Thankfully, I had the fortune to gain experience in the field. What is considered good passerine habitat here (fields interspersed with low trees and thick bushes) doesn’t have as much cover to hide in as back in Chicago (deciduous forests). So although many birds here can be quite secretive, given a small dose of patience, eventual good looks will likely be had. With general knowledge of which part of the bird one should focus on, the number of birds that get away grows fewer and fewer.

The first morning on campus, August 18, I got up early and took a quick walk in the fog. The highlight was discovering a “park” adjacent to the buildings, made up of thick trees and thorn bushes on a hillside interspersed with parking spaces. Several small finches quietly trilling at the top of a small tree took their time posing well, but eventually I had great looks at my first Eurasian Linnets. They took off after a minute or so high to the north, but that and my third ever Eurasian Hoopoe sitting on a fence were great signs. The next few days were a reminder that at this latitude, migration is a permanent phenomenon. A White-throated Kingfisher waiting at the fish pond, the only reliable open water source here, an Eastern Bonelli’s Warbler, good numbers of Lesser Whitethroats, and hawk-watches. Note the lack of hawks in that sentence. 3,000 Euro honey-buzzards passing through some birders’ backyards in a single checklist in the north of the country, five digit numbers over the coastal plain, but most of my vigils on the balcony resulting in nothing but a few Alpine Swifts. When I finally did get my first raptors on the campus, Eurasian Sparrowhawk and Black-winged Kite, they were residents, and when I did finally see my first honey-buzzards, (accompanied by a White Stork) it wasn’t while I was looking for them. Good-all around quality in general, but I replaced birding at sunrise with birding during the afternoon out of necessity for sleep, resulting in my first 20+ species day only arriving on September 15! I was somehow able to get a run of 11 lifebirds until then, including a Tree Pipit identified without having binoculars.
The only reason I was able to reach 22 that day was because I stumbled upon a leaking hose water feature on the hill. Much of the campus vegetation is watered by hoses turned on during certain hours of the day with systematically poked holes in them in order to maximize the amount of plants that can be grown. In this case, several holes, all next to each other, were creating small puddles next to thick cover, I was able to sit on a rock for over half an hour and enjoy my first Garden Warbler and Spectacled Warbler while recovering from the adrenaline of seeing my first wrynecks, incredibly detailed birds. I usually am the type of birder that doesn’t dwell so long on good looks of a good-looking bird unless it’s rare, but Eurasian Wryneck definitely deserved to be an exception.
A nice trip to the only real water habitat in the area on September 26 that will have to be repeated resulted in Little Grebes, Eurasian Coots, many Spur-winged Lapwings, and a Great Gray Shrike impaling an insect on a barbed wire fence. Hopefully more visits result in birds like Green Sandpiper, Gray Heron, Cetti’s Warbler, and many other possibilities. The goals for the year are 200 species, Syrian Serin and Cyprus Warbler, the last two being winter specialties and the first mainly depending on spring migration-we’ll see if that planned school trip to Eilat in March (!) has a chance of happening

Although I’ve been to Israel six times before now, this adventure was always going to be special. My father and I arrived in late July, and I hung around until the rest of my family left mid-August. The traditional gap-year of studying in Israel of many Jewish Americans my age is an exciting experience. After the settled routine of high school, substantial developments that previously occurred every month or so in life flashed by. Public transport, debit cards, dorm life, independent learning. Everything seemed new even before the war hit, I didn't make a post before it simply because I was so busy doing so many different things. Since then, I haven’t written for very different and obvious reasons.
My reason for being able to write about what’s going on is that this is also to a degree supposed to be a life blog, as I wrote in the first post. Ironically, I was meaning to write a paragraph about how surprisingly safe Israel is in this post, but can now confirm that Israel is indeed very safe, except during a war when it can be in fact quite dangerous.
By Saturday night, we knew the toll was already unprecedented: 200 killed and 30 taken hostage, and Israel immediately declared war. This is a country that traded 1,027 terrorists for a single captive soldier a few years back, with many high-profile terrorists being freed. And then the number of identified bodies began to steadily rise to over 1,300 killed and 240 taken hostage…
Where I was, the first sign of war was the announcement to take shelter, the subsequent sound of the Iron Dome interceptions and a rumor I heard that there were reports of some kidnappings overheard via walkie-talkie. I spent some time on a nice lookout overlooking a large portion of the country, walking two fighter jets gaining altitude below me and wondering how serious this was. A Eurasian Sparrowhawk flying overhead was obviously an afterthought.
With family and friends in the war, even though there haven’t been so many volunteer opportunities, I still didn’t go birding for a few weeks afterward simply because I didn’t feel it was proper. Fighting against a force that wants to kill everyone who isn’t a radical Islamist takes up one’s thoughts, but the news articles of fellow “infidels”, all of whom Hamas would love to throw off a tall building, protesting against Israel made me somehow feel even worse.
So I haven’t been thinking about those weeks in terms of the birds I haven’t seen, but in the past weeks I’ve slowly been going back out into the field. Sadly for hopes of large flocks of pipits, larks, and harriers, there are no fields. The small range running north and south from Jerusalem reaches its peak around here, at a height of nearly 1,000 meters. Built on the top of a hill, the surrounding habitat is vineyards, large bushes, pines, and rocks, and in and near the campus are several areas of artificially watered “forests”.
While I was still with my family in a Jerusalem apartment during the second half of the summer, I didn’t do much birding, but I did revisit the Jerusalem Bird Observatory a couple of times, as I volunteered there in 2022 at this time of year. Those quick outings produced my long overdue lifer Eurasian Sparrowhawk, Eurasian Hoopoe, Eastern Orphean Warbler, and Common Reed Warbler. Although a quick glance at a field guide may lead one to conclude they will never learn how to tell the difference between many birds here, once one sees them in the hand and their identifying details are revealed, the subtle differences jump out even at a distance. More on that in the next post, which will hopefully come in substantially less than three months, and with the topic focusing on birds this time.

Rural habitat is where the action is. Very few birds live in urban settings, because that is not where they really belong. Most people live in urban settings, so we usually think of bird habitat as being the park across the street, the forest preserve 20 minutes away, a nearby reservoir. Asked for good places to find birds away from cities, most people would bring up known destinations like Cape May and High Island as well-known national parks such as Glacier Mts. and the Everglades. In truth, most birds live on anonymous hills and in nameless forests, and the percentage of individual birds that live within the confines of an eBird hotspot is very small. Although we are biased towards birding in urban areas and hotspots, the reality is that there is always more work to be done in terms of birding previously unbirded places. This type of research could lead to knowing certain species’ exact ranges, migration routes, and more. Most people though, given an empty day to fill with birding, obviously stick to known spots instead of bushwhacking through unknown territory.
Coverage area is one of my favorite subjects, which is why I was excited at the birding prospects while working at a camp in Nowhere, Pennsylvania which is where I would be spending the next month. Too eastern for prairie species and too far away from the Alleghenies for large numbers of nesting warblers, I was still pretty excited on the first day at hearing a singing Blackburnian, and seeing a flyby kingfisher. Over the next few days, the omnipresent song of Chipping Sparrows began bouncing off of my ears, and I found a Yellow-bellied Sapsucker nest with young as well as many breeding pairs of Eastern Phoebes. My first morning outing after less than five hours of sleep produced a mystery medium-sized heron that I decided was probably a Green Heron (too stocky and dark for BCNH), 2 Hooded Warblers (one of my target birds!), 3 Purple Finches, 3 Savannah Sparrows, and six total warbler species.
The next morning, I was walking around the cabins when I suddenly noticed a pair of stocky herons flying over me going east. Except these were oddly patterned – they had white throat stripes! American Bittern? Here? As they flew a circle around the camp property, I observed the sharply angled wings, dipped neck, and even heard a “kowlp” sound from one of them. Number 4 and 5 AMBI for Warren County, a bird that was not at all on my radar! This was probably the odd heron that I had seen the day before. I was happy with the looks I had, and even happier upon hearing a Wood Thrush singing from somewhere inside the forest.
Several days later, I got permission to walk on the road in the early morning. The highlights were 7! different male Chestnut-sided Warblers all singing loudly, 3 Common Ravens, 2 Red-breasted Nuthatches, a badly seen Blue-headed Vireo, at least one Eastern Meadowlark in the large roadside fields, a heard-only Veery, 2 Indigo Buntings (both males), 2 American Redstarts, etc. etc, 46 species in all. I also had surprisingly high numbers of Gray Catbirds (8), Eastern Phoebes (7), and House Wrens (7).
On my next walk, I got caught in the rain but this time managed to resight one of the bitterns flying over the fields until it disappeared over the treeline. Before the rain hit, I also saw a Red-shouldered hawk fly across the road, hundreds of grackles flying out from their roost, 3 Cedar Waxwings, and a Bobolink on a distant pole all the way across the fields. The rain continued throughout the next few days, resulting in exactly zero fluddles. At least the weather was a likely cause for a small group of Purple Martins on the 26th. The nesting habits of Purple Martins may be unique in the birding world, as large populations have adapted to entirely depend on human-made nesting boxes (not for lack of alternatives, but because of convenience). There was also a Wild Turkey peacefully eating rocks on a forest path that was very much not a pheasant (for real this time). Presumably they eat gravel to help with digestion but I prefer the humorous image that it's because they like the taste. A Red-shouldered Hawk flew over in bad lighting, a Rose-breasted Grosbeak sat in the top of a tree, Merlin picked up a calling Hooded Warbler repeatedly, and I had good views of a local family of Eastern Bluebirds. The next day had 28 species in contrast to 38 yesterday, but for someone used to birding in Chicago during the summer it was nice to get a male Purple Finch, an Eastern Towhee, and a Pine Warbler all in a June morning.
Coming into July I was hoping for a lifer of some sort like a Yellow-throated Vireo or Acadian Flycatcher, but after looking at eBird recording, a hawk that was making whistling calls repeatedly as it hopped through thick evergreen branches was a Broad-winged! I’ll take it - another target bird on the list. On July 2nd when I heard an irritated Red-shouldered Hawk trying to escape a mobbing jay, the difference was quite clear.
During a short out-of-camp-camping-trip I woke up after less than three hours of sleep to thick fog covering the campsite. Sleeping bags randomly laid askew faded into the distance, the trees appeared a misty wooden wall, and the invisible whispering of campers who were unable to sleep and had now given up was the only sound I could hear. Getting ready for the day and hiking in the beautifully spooky atmosphere without being able to see 40 feet in front of me was a new experience, but it cleared away all too soon, and birds slowly became identifiable even if they chose to sing to hide instead. A Mourning Warbler and a Winter Wren traded long songs from unbushwhackable bushes, a Veery sang, and two Wood Thrushes sang from the other side of the fog. It was good habitat but there was good habitat back at in-camp-camp including the camp lake’s first waterfowl (Canada Geese of course) and I saw the kingfisher pair together for the first time. On what would be my last walk I finally spotted an overdue invasive species that I was hoping I wouldn’t see, a House Finch.

Eventually, my sheer disregard of sleep began to catch up with me. I usually rarely nap, but began to take several naps each day because of how exhausted I was. Given my low energy level, I decided to not go on any more morning walks for the last week or so, and boarded the return flight to Chicago with 72 species. Although I went on more than a couple night walks in hopes of hearing an owl I never got any, and disappointingly no fluddles ever formed in the fields despite much rainfall. Despite that I found some great birds and birdwise much better than expected.

It was nice to bird the same area over and over as I got a good sense of the variety and abundance of many species. I found large breeding populations of Mourning Dove, Eastern Phoebe, Red-eyed Vireo, Blue Jay, House Wren, American Robin, House Sparrow, Chipping Sparrow, Song Sparrow, Ovenbird, Common Yellowthroat, Chestnut-sided Warbler etc.

I also found smaller populations of Yellow-bellied Sapsucker, Eastern Wood-Pewee, Belted Kingfisher, Eastern Bluebird, Veery, Wood Thrush, Savannah Sparrow, Dark-eyed Junco, American Redstart, Indigo Bunting, Northern Cardinal etc.

Notable probable nesters in the area included American Bittern, Red-shouldered Hawk, Hooded Warbler, Mourning Warbler, Bobolink, Killdeer, Ruby-throated Hummingbird, Eastern Meadowlark etc.

After being in camp from June 15 until July 18th, I flew back to Chicago for a week to join my father before we both headed to Israel with the rest of the family.

Even with everything slowing down, I decided to check up on Lighthouse on the 2nd to look for shorebirds and breeders. The continuing Mourning Warbler was singing before sunrise in the South Ravine, a Spotted Sandpiper was feeding on the public beach, and I got nice looks of a Canada Warbler in the Woodlot. While walking in the dunes, I saw a pair of orioles fly into a short tree in the south ravine. One of them was an adult male Baltimore Oriole, the other one looked like a female. But after the whole pheasant saga, I decided to take a closer look at the second bird. It clearly wasn’t a male, as its body was a sort of dull yellow or dull orange, although I wasn’t paying much attention to that. It definitely wasn’t bright orange. Whatever the color was, it seemed to extend to the back where there wasn’t any streaking, but the main thing was that it also clearly had an all-black head. Was the female supposed to look like this? Something looked off-after looking up a few images I saw that not only do they have streaks on their back but they never have an all-black head. Looking up from my phone, both orioles had disappeared, and could not be refound after 50 minutes of searching. The only oriole species with a non-bright orange body and an all-black head is the Audubon's Oriole, which only lives in Mexico and southern Texas with only one vagrancy record in southeastern Indiana. Needless to say, I wasn’t at all convinced that was the bird I saw and even if I was I would have needed pictures. Besides, the bird didn’t have a noticeably long tail, and it appeared to have dull yellow instead of bright yellow. Eliminating every species wasn’t really an option, so clearly I needed another look.
Two days later on Sunday , I returned with a couple of oranges and hung them from branches. No orioles came to them, but I did find the likely continuing Canada Warbler and saw a Warbling Vireo which hopefully will breed. I did see orioles, but all Baltimore-I found a pair’s nest by the field trees and watched them go in and out of it. This is the kind of thing I don’t stress over as I only got a few seconds look of what was probably a weirdly plumaged female Baltimore Oriole but just thought that it was interesting, it always pays to stay alert and check everything
Snowy Egrets were seen all over yesterday, the closest one being seen by many from Techny. Coming off the back foot as I usually am on Sundays and hoping to move the front one, I left Lighthouse with 23 species after around an hour and joined several others in the quest for the egret. It had been reported to be flying between Techny North and Techny Basin (which is to the south) every few hours, so the best thing seemed to be to stay put. But after a few minutes of futile searching, I decided to make a stop at a nearby pond that did not have it either, and then returned to the original spot. As I was walking back to the others, I spotted a small white heron flying from the south that had yellow feet! It landed on an exposed branch near a Great Egret and great look and pics were to be had of its diagnostic yellow “slippers”, black bill, and head plumes.
On June 7th I again went to Lighthouse in one of my many futile attempts to find good terns/shorebirds there, but the only decent bird was an overdue personal site first Great Crested Flycatcher by the field trees. It was quiet - too quiet, so Ieft for Techny where I caught up with a late Semipalmated Plover and a group of 9 Semipalmated Sandpipers.
Returning four days later, a FOY (first of year) Dunlin had blown in with the strong N winds, along with lots of swallows including a locally uncommon Bank Swallow. The still late-staying plover was joined by a late Solitary Sandpiper mixing in with the Spotteds. The fact is that I’m not a fan of shorebirds unless they are giving good looks on a beach; trying to identify small brown birds on faraway mudflats at the very edge of my binoculars’ range peering through heat waves has very little appeal for me. Which is why when a Yellow-throated Warbler was reported at Crow Island Woods, I chased it even though I knew I had little chance of success. I didn’t find it, but went to Lighthouse hoping the weather would force something in. While the only action of the beach were a pair of cormorants decidedly not having a fun time flying into the wind, there was a large mix of swifts and swallows flying around the small field south of the parking lot which had 1 Cliff Swallow - my 112th Lighthouse bird, giving me the third-highest personal site list.
While walking on a street toward a senior class dinner the next afternoon, I saw two doves perching on and flying around the streetlights. Mourning Doves have pointed tails, these doves - hold one second - had squared tails. Closer inspection, including some from the second floor of the restaurant, resulted in good looks of my FOY Eurasian Collared-Doves, a bird common in southern and central America with random small populations scattered throughout Chicago’s neighborhoods.An introduced and rapidly expanding species that has found a niche in urban habitat, its abundance throughout Chicago in a decade or two is practically a sure thing, but for now it is pretty noteworthy. While eating and looking at the weather on website windy.com (can’t recommend it enough, for birders and non-birders) I saw a very violent and odd combination of wind patterns that seemed to suggest a waterspout would appear offshore. Weird weather brings weird birds, so of course I decided to be at Gillson ASAP after a quick stop at Lighthouse. One fruitless stop at Lighthouse later (how have all these other birders seen so many shorbs there?) My last birding expedition at Gillson came to a close (without seeing a waterspout) but watching a BC Night-Heron hunt was worth being in the gusty weather conditions.

And so it ends; after 10 years of living in the Chicago area, after having arrived as an amateur birder, I leave for camp in NW Pennsylvania a more experienced one. Lots of other changes are easily apparent; the chaos and friends of elementary and middle school, the friends of high school, the family all along the way, the current goal set last summer to live in Israel and work in International Relations…and still there is more to come. Things to do, Time to do!

May 30-June 14 was probably the last time I’ll ever spend such an amount of time in the Chicago area. I had several target lifers in mind, especially ones not easily findable near New York. At the top of the list was Connecticut Warbler, as late May is the best time to find this bird in NE Illinois and NE Illinois is one of the most accessible and reliable places to find it. Originally I thought I would have to abandon Lighthouse morning trips for LaBagh Woods, but it gradually became clear that there are a few sections that have a chance, such as the North Ravine, the field tree area, and most of all The Woodlot.
Upon arrival Tuesday morning before sunrise there were 3 Common Nighthawks flying around the lighthouse! A welcome yearbird and clearly newly arrived migrants from further south. A good sign of things to come, a hunch proven by a small skittish brown bird in the North Ravine! A bit of stalking the bird up the path resulted in views of a small gamebird with a long tail with pinned feathers and barred flanks. The brownish color meant it was a female Turkey as males are brightly colored-another first for the site, not to mention an impressive bird for Evanston!. A gut feeling told me to double-check but I pushed it away; the bird was too small for a bobwhite and the location was all wrong for a pheasant. I took pictures anyway, just to be safe and to document a good record, before it ran off into some thick vegetation where I could not refind it. With a Blackpoll and a nice male Canada Warbler seen well by the playground added to the morning’s list, I then headed to the Woodlot where Merlin picked up a singing Mourning Warbler, one of the tougher migrant songbirds to find. Not only was I able to repeatedly hear its invisible song emanating from 15 feet away from me, but I was able to get eyes on a second one in a bush by the field trees! (N of the parking lot, S of the large field.) I went back to where I had the first one to confirm there were two and this time was able to get a brief sighting of that one as well! With a great morning already in the bag I went for the second round (my schedule each morning is usually beach-dunes- s ravine- n ravine-playground-woodlot-field trees-lighthouse area-repeat once-leave). This time, as I headed to the North Ravine, Merlin picked up a Philadelphia Vireo which would be a very overdue lifer for me and one of the bigger misses during my Small Big Year. I listened to what sounded like a slowish version of a Red-eyed Vireo song, knowing that Merlin is not very reliable when it comes to distinguishing such similar notes. Even if it was reliable, I wouldn’t feel comfortable with using such a nondiagnostic field mark, especially as variation in song can be widespread within a species. However, after having lots of fun staring at a tall tree from various angles for about 5 minutes, I finally laid eyes on a plain faced vireo up on a branch, followed by a second bird seen a few trees further north up the ravine. In keeping with the pattern of the day I went back to where I’d found the first one to be greeted with great views of the yellow centered on the throat and chest as opposed to the flanks (as would be expected for a Warbling Vireo). #315!

The next day I returned with the goal of refinding the goodies and maybe finding a few more. Shorebirds kept up their streak of not showing up but there were 3 Caspian Terns as opposed to one 24 hours earlier. A nighthawk flew in from the lake as I was walking through the South Ravine, and Black-crowned Night Heron flew over headed north minutes later.

I was walking around the small community garden in the far northwestern section of the playground area when I heard an unfamiliar chirping call, and a minute later Merlin told me it had heard a Dickcissel. Usually whenever it makes a mistake it doesn’t keep on insisting that it’s hearing the bird, but it kept flashing yellow…and the chirping call was still going, coming from the tall trees north of lighthouse beach property. A bit of scanning indeed produced a male Dickcissel interacting with some House Sparrows on nearby branches. Like the turkey this bird is much more regular in the south of the county and is pretty rare around these neighborhoods, being the 12th record for Evanston. After getting a video of the bird calling, I headed over to the woodlot, where I was able to hear one of yesterday’s two Mourning Warblers. While checking the field trees I heard yet another overdue lifer, Alder Flycatcher, and was able to get some brief views. The song is quite similar to the Willow Flycatcher but replaces its “fitz-bew!” with “fijjew!”. While I didn’t get great looks I was more than happy to put it down at #316 as hearing an Empidonax is arguably better than seeing one, hopefully more on my stance on heard-only birds in a later post. I also added Chestnut-sided Warbler to my Lighthouse list, and had a nice Wilson’s and Magnolia as well.

After two surprisingly productive mornings, I left Lighthouse the next morning with the realization that migration madness was over. Aside from an early nighthawk by the lighthouse the only highlights were a pair of Kingbirds and an Ovenbird by the field trees, finishing the session with a measly 29 species. After school though, I decided to finally check out a promising location in Northbrook, a mudflat-ringed lake surrounded by tall fences and roads on the corner of Lake Cook and Pfingsten. With the power of Google Street View I devised a way to access it. By parking in a nearby lot and walking south down a bike lane on Pfingsten, I was able to see the majority of the distant mudflats. Due to my scope being put out its misery earlier this week, I had only my binoculars and the only shorebird identifiable for me out of the three or four shorbs I saw was a Killdeer. Still looks like a place with high potential during shorebird migration for anyone with a good scope, and going there Feb-Apr could also result in a few good waterfowl.
Late that afternoon, I heard news that somebody had just found Illinois’ second Gull-billed Tern at Montrose! I jumped out of my chair, grabbed my phone wallet and keys, and dashed to my car. Heart beating far faster than must be beneficial, I frantically drove off intending to turn the 30-minute commute into as instantaneous as possible. It was to no avail as minutes later I received word that the bird had flown off, and not only that, but to the south which meant I couldn’t quickly pull off for a chance at a flyby. As I headed home, somebody sent a picture to a group chat of a pheasant that had become a regular at an Evanston feeder, to which somebody speculated that my photos of the turkey a few days ago sure looked like a pheasant. As soon as I saw that, a nice tidbit of information popped into my head: Female turkeys, unlike most gamebirds, are not small brown versions of the males. They are even bigger than the males, darkly colored, with a short tail and a diagnostic wattle. This was clearly a Ring-necked Pheasant, which although needed for my life list was almost certainly an escapee given the nearby (lack of) habitat. An embarrassing mistake, and to add insult to injury a species taken off the lighthouse list. For someone who grew up in Boston I never should have so incorrectly and confidently reported a turkey especially where it would show up on the rare bird alert, it is genuinely hard to even write this post. Birding regrets are tough but there’s always the next chase to find the next bird and the next identification to (hopefully) get right.