My Birding Year “Wrapped” - 2023
With 2023 inching to a close, and 2024 on the horizon, you may be doing some reflecting on this past year. Reflection is different for everyone; it can leave a heavy weight on a person’s outlook or inspire new goals and fresh beginnings, all based upon personal experiences had over the course of the last 12 months.
In my own personal reflections, 2023 had me gripping tight to the lap bar as I rode the roller coaster. There were some amazingly high intervals but there were also some unexpected, difficult dips mixed in. At the end of it all, I have MANY things to be thankful for and I have set goals for 2024 based on experiences I’ve had over the last 12 months—hence “Sea to Sky Guiding” transforming from thoughts and passing conversations into a physical presence!
But, I’m not here to talk about guiding in this post. To insert some end-of-year levity and drum up excitement for the coming new year, I turn to the birds at the end of December. I love looking back at the encounters this past year has provided me. Being a “lister” (someone who records every bird species they encounter in a calendar year), and accompanying that list with photos organized by albums that are saved by date and location, I basically have the workings for a yearly, birdy diary.
Borrowing the “Year in Review” or “Your Year Wrapped” concept from Spotify, I’ve made another list (haha!) highlighting my favorite encounters, interesting things of note, surprises along the way, and more!
Without further ado, here is an abridged version of My “Birding Year” Wrapped - 2023 Edition:
Most Memorable Birding Experience of 2023:
It’s hard to narrow it down to just one, so I’m going to go with the first memory that popped in my mind. My bird buddy and I had an awesome trip planned out for the end of February that was going to take us into central Washington (over the Cascades, for us). Here, we would again explore the snowy plateau and seek out elusive species like Snowy Owl, Northern Pygmy-owl, Bohemian Waxwings, Pine Grosbeaks, and more.
This trip was unfortunately thwarted a few days before departure due to absolutely treacherous weather dumping snow and ice through any and all of the passes we’d have to drive through to get to the other side, and we’re just not ones for taking big weather risks. We decided instead of canceling, we’d pivot, so we began pouring over rare bird reports from the previous week and then overlaying them with weather reports. Our new plan was going to lead us southwest along the coast of Washington to Cape Disappointment—pretty much as far southwest as you can go in Washington state without crossing into Oregon at the Columbia River.
When I began packing and had the bandwidth to let our plans to sink in, the idea really started growing on me—this was a place that was new to me. I’ve had a “thing” for lighthouses since I was young, and the thought of large, Pacific Ocean waves pounding onto an actual sandy beach was exciting. Some of the bird prospects were enticing as well. Our biggest target would be a vagrant Brambling; this finch-sized bird (reported as an immature) would have some toasty, rust-brown wash along its back, collar, and wings, and would also be sporting dark, complex wing patterns. I won’t lie. This species was only really exciting to us because it was way out of its range (Europe, China and South Korea, along the coast of Russia, and throughout the Aleutian Islands). But a lifer bird is a lifer bird, and so we adventured with lots of hope.
Friends, I won’t sugarcoat the Brambling experience, and my bird buddy and I can chuckle about it now, but Cape Disappointment really lived up to its name—at least on the birding front. We did NOT see this little bird, though try we certainly did. We did manage some laughs about the many circles we walked, how many times we almost got blown over, the ridiculous amount of times we had to sit in the car just to feel our fingers—even though we were FULLY layered and properly dressed for such an outing. These are the less glamourous, but real accounts of the oft hurdles and challenges one is likely to face when “chasing” rare birds.
Was that account anti-climatical? Well… the Brambling might have been our target focus at Cape Disappointment, and the hardships may have darkened this trip in a way we were hoping to avoid, but I’ve saved the most memorial experience for last, because it happened last…
During one of our MANY circles around what felt like twenty different camp ground areas inside the State Park, we happened upon a coniferous tree about 16-20 feet tall and bustling all around, inside and out, were dozens of little yellow-and-black flits that made this entire trek worth it—I am not exaggerating when I say there had to be at least 45+ Townsend’s Warblers in this tree! Now, we’ve both seen this species and usually mark them off pretty early in the year when out birding in suitable habitat, but there is something special about seeing species in large numbers that can create an experience like no other. For one, how do you focus on just one little flit that won’t hold still? How do you photograph just one? I mean, I did make those choices (see below), but this is the good kind of overwhelming that can wash over an entire trip—one that would have felt like a bit of a bust if not for something extraordinary occurring. It’s the kind of awe that keeps you there as long as they linger. They were going about their everyday lives, as they do, but two bird-nerdy people that thought our excitement would come from locating a much duller rarity were sucked in and frozen on the spot in this instance. We unanimously agree that this “Snow White-esque” experience would likely be our notable throughout a gray, cold, rainy winter in the PNW, and indeed, nothing dethroned this experience in quarter one!
Biggest “Surprise” Bird of 2023:
Again, I had a handful of pretty outstanding excursions where birds I didn’t expect had popped up, or other wildlife, like a bobcat I spent a little time with out in Skagit County back on November 1st, stole the spotlight! But the first memory that pops into my head as the biggest bird surprise I had was the absolutely unexpected Nazca Booby that was spotted on Westport Seabird’s last pelagic boat tour of the season (September 30th).
I was not the only person on board utterly floored when we all realized what we were looking at; as a large, bright-bodied seabird rose off the horizon, heading straight for the vessel, the first shout rang out, “Laysan Albatross!” We had been watching a couple Black-footed Albatrosses, and the Laysan would have definitely been a prize, though not very surprising. But as this bird flew closer, and the contrast of the bright sun was shifted from behind the bird to the side of its body, another, more astounding cry came—“BOOBY!” I had my camera up to my face and was clicking so fast—this was the second Booby species I’d ever seen (both in Washington State) and highly rare. As it gracefully glided past the boat, I had thought the bird would continue on and be long gone in just seconds, but as the Captain pointed the bow of the boat in the same direction it flew, the bird began coming back toward us for another circle AND THEN LANDED ON THE WATER providing all of us on board with some really close looks.
There was a healthy debate on field markers to try to suss out Masked versus Nazca, and enough evidence (through many photos taken) had determined this was indeed a Nazca Bobby. It was mentioned shortly after the encounter that this sighting would be Washington State's 4th record of this species, with this continental shelf sighting being the first offshore record for the state (the other 3 have been in the Salish Sea near Seattle)! This bird should have been off the south coast of Mexico and Guatemala, offshore of Colombia and Ecuador, and around the Galapagos! What a wanderer! Possibly a "life bird" for everyone on board the Monte Carlo, but if not, it was certainly all we could talk about once the Captain turned to take us the 25ish miles back to shore. I boarded the trip hoping for (and finding!) a “life bird” Black-legged Kittiwake but walked away with a sighting I’ll recount to others for years to come! The cherry on top? I actually manage a crisp, clear photo—not easy to do when seriously excited and rolling around on Pacific Ocean waves!
”Most Fond of Lifer” of 2023:
It’s a good year when any birder has a “lifer” —a bird they’ve never personally seen before— so I do cherish all of my “lifers” from year to year. But since my husband and I had our first “over-the-pond” adventure and visited Ireland in August, I am going to have to pick a bird from our time there; basically 95% of all the birds I saw on that trip were “lifers” and make up the majority of my “lifer” count this year.
For as common as I am sure it is to everyone in the surrounding European area, I am going to have to pick the European Robin. I desperately wanted to see Atlantic Puffin and Hooded Crow, and while I did see Hooded Crows, it always seemed they were at a distance or I did not have the ability to stop to enjoy them (in transit and etc.). An Atlantic Puffin miss just ensures I will have to make another trek to this wonderous country (or possibly Iceland, Newfoundland, or Scotland) to try again!
This little European Robin reminds me more of a large warbler than the American Robin I’m used to in the states. But very elegant, and super sing-songy just outside of a little glamping hut we stayed in, in County Limerick, I fell in love with this little bird. It seemed to pop up in most spots we ventured, too, and so basically became my birdy mascot the duration of our trip! See below, a photo I was able to snag when touring the grounds at Dromoland Castle in County Clare.