Turista. Flux. Acute Gastroenteritis. No matter what label you apply, it sucks – or rather the opposite.
For the first time in my Latin American travels, I was struck by the dreaded revenge of Montezuma. And this was no one day wonder, but a four day siege accompanied by somnolence that would have made Rip Van Winkle wince in wonderment. Shall we say we were not up to snuff the last three days of the trip.
But that was the end. The beginning followed our now comfortable ritual of landing at the airport, quickly getting our luggage (well, actually, first I got somebody’s else’s, but will forget about that, eh?), hopping over to Avis, then checking into the Best Western Posada Real in San Jose del Cabo. With two hours left, we popped over to the sewage treatment ponds for some passerine birding. What we found was that much of the scrub (where the Belding’s Yellowthroats used to be, plus once, a Painted Bunting) had been pulled up for a pedestrian walkway that led almost all the way to the beach, over a km away. The good news was that the trees still held a fair number of warblers, and as we pished, a kestrel popped over followed by an immature Broad-winged Hawk.
Our despondency alleviated, we parked next to that monolith, the El Presendte, and headed off to watch the sunset over the Estero San Jose. Before we could exit the car, we saw two female Ruddy Ground-Doves strutting (or whatever you want to call that weird mechanical motion of theirs) before us. On the way to the water, a calling Tropical Kingbird grabbed our attention. The estero was peaceful that eve. Poor numbers of ducks (only one non-dabbler, a Lesser Scaup), but fair numbers of shorebirds, better-than-usual heron numbers, some gulls, etc. Three dark-breasted (actually two distinctly dark, one medium), small-to-medium sized, somewhat delicately configurated geese grazed in the grass. All three were identical in shape and size. I measured them up as B.h. taverneri, but we’ll see what others think. Also, two Elegant Terns, rare in winter, roosted among the YF Gulls, Cal Gulls, Caspian, Forster’s, and Royal Terns. Future visits were not to be so quiet. They’re promoting this area as an ecotourism spot. There were folks riding horseback through the marsh, ultralights low overhead, cars parked virtually in the marsh, people fishing with nets... chaos. At those times the birds were nearly absent. Rumor has it they’re considering dredging the channel so folks can canoe along it.
Anyway, most happy with our first couple hours, we returned to the hotel and dined at their surprisingly good restaurant. The maitre de/ head waiter was the same as in previous years. Known as "The Captain" by the staff, he is tall, slender, and somewhat prim, walking with a carefully measured gait. El Capitan. has a definite concept of proper and improper. Unfortunately, we seemed to have a different views of these concepts. For instance, tortillas (instead of bread) with soup was definitely a no-no. Such requests were met with a slight twitch of the lips followed by a pained grimace, as if he had just bit into something foul but was forced to swallow it. Another mis-step was eating quickly. Food is to be savored, which is true enough. Needless to say, we were an endless source of disappointment, sometimes for reasons we couldn’t fathom. Also, for unclear reasons, he seemed fond of us, in a disapproving father kind of way.
Our first full day began just before sunrise at the Estero with a calling Clapper Rail, a new site for this species, we believe, and quite a surprise (breakfast was in room. The room has a fridge, so we stashed fruit, yogurt, etc for the am there). Nothing new was present, but we did bump into some new-ish birders from New Jersey. An utter shock to encounter birders in the Cape District. We then birded our way upstream towards the sewage ponds through the ever decreasing scrub. Birds were virtually absent. The Gray Thrashers and Varied Buntings of 3 years ago a fond memory and Belding’s Yellowthroats hard to come by. We bumped into a more serious pair of birders along the way, though. More astonishment. I was despondent as we headed back from the sewage pond area. Somewhat desultorily, I photographed a Reddish Egret here, a WF Ibis there (no Glossies– I was looking). And I scanned through teal flocks. And I’m not kidding you about this. We’re looking at one teal flock. Casey asks, "Why are you scrutinizing these teal." I answered, "Good practice, with BW and Cinn side by side, plus you might find a Garganey."
"Have you ever found one."
"Well, no." The next flock, the first bird I look at, is a Garganey. Not sure if it was an eclipse male or ad female, but it was quite cooperative (one advantage of the walkway is that herons, ducks, etc are becoming much more used to people). I got some video, but wasn’t sure if it was going to be sufficient, so I left Casey with the scope and the bird and ran back to the car. Back a few minutes later, Casey had gathered SEVEN birders around her, and the Garg remained in place. Casey had done perfectly as tour leader, pointing out the bird to all those who wandered by, explaining the ID – very impressive. I Shot lots of video. Yikes. Almost like birding in California Alta.
We then jetted up to the pueblo of Caduano and walked our normal circuit. Passerine numbers were good, even though it was mid-day. Virtually the first bird was a bright "Solitary Vireo." The Solitary Vireos that breed in the Cape (I’ll call ‘em San Lucan Vireo) are a headache. Virtually all, at least during fall/winter, are quite bright, varying from bright Cassin’s to Blue-headed in appearance. They’re considered part of Cassin’s, but word on the street has it they were not carefully considered when the Solitary Vireo complex was split asunder. Most (all?) San Lucan Vireos have a burry song, like a Cassin’s. The bird we were looking at, did not. It sang the sweet song of a Blue-headed. I got a fair bit on tape, though some of that may be have been diminished by a local 9-year old girl trying to help us pish. This is the second bright BHVI-like bird, that sang like a BHVI, that I’ve encountered in the Cape. I also had a bright CAVI like bird that gave both songs, and at least once, a bird indistinguishable (to me) from BHVI sing like a Cassin’s. Confused. You should be. I am.
A question arises: Are the birds that look and sing like BHVI indeed BHVI, or are can San Lucan Vireos sing like BHVI. Certainly vagrant BHVI to the Cape are quite possible. It also seems quite likely that visual separation of San Lucan from Blue-headed Vireo may not be possible in the field.
Another question arises: Are San Lucan Vireos a separate species? Hopefully, some work up in the Sierra de la Laguna this summer should prove useful in determining these answers.
The post-vireo portion of the walk yielded 3 Thick-billed Kingbirds and two Northern Parulas. Orange-crowned Warbler numbers were impressive, and were about 90% lutescens and 10% orestera, as they were pretty much everywhere we visited (except Todos Santos, which was more 60/40). The male Belding’s Yellowthroat was still in the small marsh. Also, always a big thrill for me, we got a fabulous view of a male Pyrrhuloxia, in my mind, one of America’s 10 best birds. Being a bit of a bleeding heart myself.... Anyway, the rose-red against silky gray just makes me melt.
Next was a walk through the ag fields of Miraflores. Lots of birds, including nice studies of female Varied and Lazuli Buntings. Two Varieds had some degree of wingbars, one buffy and one grayish. They were separated from Lazuli by their uniformly dark buff underparts and stouter bills. A Black-and-White Warbler, and Am Redstart, and the usual Thick-billed Kingbirds were the only birds of note. We finished our stroll by walking under a gathering Turkey Vulture roost and then climbing under a barbed wire fence. Witnessing this, were three local men, probably in their upper twenties to lower forties. They approached with mirthful faces. One couldn’t relent in teasing us for having walked the vulture gauntlet and another was convinced that we were lost. Not a bad assumption given our behavior. When I said, in horrid Spanish, that our car was at the vado por arroyo (loosely, and I mean loosely, translated means "ford for wash") he actually seemed comforted.
We began Day 3 at Miraflores, heading for the upstream access to the wash (see previous notes). As with last year, birds became numerous as we reached the area where the power lines cross the wash, especially on the side away from town. Two Black-and-white Warblers were the highlight. On the way back, we heard screeching that seemed to be some sort of parrot. After a minute or so of quiet approach, we saw three Black-crested Magpie Jays that skedaddled as soon as they saw us. Okay, I know they’re escapes, but seeing wary birds away from human habitation gave some kind of thrill, far beyond seeing the tame birds at feeders in Punta Banda (yes, I’ve seen BCMJ in Baja before; must cart ‘em over by the boat load). The rest of the AM was a bust. Birds pished out from the day before? Just luck? Who knows. We retreated to the ag lands around San Jose del Cabo, but they weren’t much better. Finally, we took the road across the base of the Estero heading east from San Jose del Cabo. In the grass there were two "white-cheeked" Geese. Different birds. Substantial difference in size. A darkish small delicate bird and a pale medium sized, medium stout bird. The larger bird was almost certainly a parvipes. The smaller? Minima vs. taverneri. The smaller bird wasn’t glossy purple like a classic minima, but many aren’t. And I’m not sure the bird was quite "cute" enough. We’ll wait for the refs to review the tapes and Make The Call.
We returned to the hotel. The small patch of scrub, about an acre, by the parking lot is one of the last bits remaining in the area. We pished and were surrounded by Hooded Orioles, Costa’s Humms, OCWarblers, Verdins, a Gray Thrasher or two. No Orchard Oriole, like Dennis Paulson had found last year, but fun. I headed back to the estero, which was dull, but Casey headed to the room, which wasn’t.
Apparently, the toilet had exploded. Well, not really "exploded," but separated from the wall during cleaning, which had led to the room flooding. The entire floor was in water. Fortunately, we had only one tee-shirt on the ground, and so the remainder of our possessions were safe. Hopefully no one was in the room beneath. I returned to find we’d been moved to a beachfront suite. Sweet.
Mirasol (who’s email address means ‘Goddess of the Desert’ in Spanish) is a most pleasant woman of indeterminate age with a melt-you smile and sparkling eyes. Her job at the Best Western, one she clearly found tedious, was to sell timeshares. But she does love to talk. When we met her last year, those eyes were glittering with the upcoming opening of her rib-joint restaurant. Yes, she was having some problems (the cook had drunk all the beer), but she was aglow. For reasons that remained vague, it had failed, and that joyous sexy woman of last year looked tired and beaten. Until she started talking about her ranch. Then the sprite re-emerged. Seems as if she’s a country girl wanting to return to the country life, but I gathered, with better amenities than such offers in Mexico. She owns 12 acres in a small village named Rancho Guamuchilar between Santiago and Agua Caliente. The Guamuchilar is a tree somewhat like a cross between a mesquite and a locust – the tree, not the bug-eyed creature that devours small countries. Her ranch, named El Guamuchilar, she assured me was full of birds, partly because its caretaker, the old man Donlino (it was never Donlino, but always "the old man donlino") was too feeble to clear much brush. "Better for the birds, anyway" she said proudly. She recognized quite a few from the book. I was impressed. She drew me a map, and said, if you can’t find it, ask for Donlino. Everyone knows him.
The next morning I set off for Santiago, Agua Caliente, and yes, El Guamuchilar. After last year’s unusual wetness, Santiago seemed parched. New fences had gone up. Many of the areas I’d visited were gone due to one or the other. I did visit the location at which I saw Grasshopper Sparrow and 3 American Redstarts last year. It was definitely slower. One redstart. A nice flock of about 20 Blue Grosbeaks/Laz Buntings. A Varied Bunting or two. I walked down the path as it approached the marsh. The path turned to mud. I was about to turn around, but ahead I saw flicker. It looked odd. Unlike the normal Gildeds, it had no brown cap. So, I started off through the mud, eventually sinking deeper and deeper. Walking became stumbling, bumbling, and tottering. It was clear. The head was entirely gray except for some brown around in the loral area. A Red-shafted Flicker. I wasn’t sure how rare it was, but I knew it was pretty damn good, so I continued on. I couldn’t see its front, and from my current position, no shaft color was visible on tail or wing. I was just underneath it, almost toppling over, when it took off in a flash of reddish pink.
El Guamuchilar was guarded by a snack-sized fuzzy black-and-white mutt who’s main goal in life was having its tummy rubbed. No sign of Donlino, though, so I hopped the gate. The trees were few, but the tall Eucalyptus had a Thick-billed Kingbird atop it and the brush beneath had a Pacific-slope Flycatcher. The true glory was the mesquite/heavily seeded weeds. My pockets, socks, heck even my underwear filled with weed seed as I waded through the mess (arms scored by the mesquite). It was filled with Clay-colored Sparrows, White-crowned Sparrows (both oriantha and gambeli) plus a few Cardinals, Varied Buntings, Laz Buntings, and one Grasshopper Sparrow. God knows what evaded me (and hasn’t told me yet). A Merlin whizzed through at one point. I turned a corner and encountered a man who looked too old to actually be breathing. I paused watching him. Yes, there was movement. Slowly, methodically, painfully he moved a spade across some soil freeing it from a weed or two. Donlino. I greeted him and explained who I was. He gave me a smile sans his two front teeth. His teeth faired better than most of him, as he was missing an eye and one of his legs didn’t work so well. He used the spade to walk. When he used the spade to spade, he came perilously close to toppling over. We talked for a bit as best we could, and I proceeded on to Agua Caliente. I birded the same area that held a Lucy’s Warbler last year. Plenty of birds, including another bright Solitary Vireo. I could only get good looks at the head, throat, upper breast, and upper back, but the contrast between head and throat was sharper and brighter than that of the Plumbeous. But the bird’s song was burry. After this spot, I crossed the stream, shortly passed through another town (inaccessible last year because of high water levels), and .4 miles after the town entered another nice patch of habitat. Nothing unusual, but lots of tanagers, warblers, a TBKI, etc.
It was time to head north to La Paz, and as usual, we started at Las Cuevas. I was turning around on a narrow dirt road. I nudged the bumper against a dirt embankment. Steam spurted out the front end.
This is virtually never a good sign.
I backed up and hauled ass to Las Cuevas which, of course, had no phone. Buena Vista was 8 miles down the road, much of it, fortunately, downhill. By some judicious driving, and turning the engine off when headed downhill, I coasted in to Buena Vista without frying the engine. The first Abarrotes had a phone. First I looked at the front of the car. Not a scratch. Not a dent. Nada. But between the horizontal grill slats one could see a lovely nickel sized puncture in the radiator. Must have been a stout stick protruding from that embankment. To Avis’ great credit, they had a car on a flatbed at Buena Vista (an hour’s drive from the nearest office) in 90 minutes. It was delivered with a smile and after the tip a "con mucho gusto."
San Bartolo looks so good. Too bad it never has any good birds. The most interesting encounter was with a man named Francisco and his mad cow. Per usual, we’d crossed a fence line or two. A mid-height, good-looking, fit appearing man sporting a Clark Gable mustache approached us with some obvious wariness. Not angry, but not thrilled to see us there. He spoke zero English. You can see the challenge ahead. Amazingly, between our Spanish, and the occasional use of a Mexican/English dictionary, we discussed much. He’d moved from La Paz to San Bartolo for a more peaceful life, his sons had horrid allergies and sinus disease, there were no pediatricians in San Bartolo. In the end, he handed us a bunch of oranges from his orchard, invited us to stay at his house the next time through, and told us to stay away from the cow. "The bull?" I asked.
"No, esta vaca." he said and pointed to a cow hiding in the mesquite across a small opening. Francisco took a step or two in its direction and it moved forward to challenge him, tossing its head and stamping its feet.
I repeated, "No toro?"
"Esta loco" Why it had not found itself on some tortilla by then, I’m not sure. It stomped and snorted some more. Avoid the cow. Good advice.
We ended the day at the La Paz (Chametla) Sewage Treatment Ponds. This is one of my favorite place in the world to bird. Swarms of BN Stilts, WF Ibis, ducks, warblers, Lark Sparrows, a Peregrine or two. Always wonderful, and always hiding a surprise. This time, it was the among the blackbirds. A small flock of fairly distant Red-winged Blackbirds and cowbirds had a bird with a thick cowl, a big bill, and red eye. Its body was black. Before I could do much to try to photograph it, the flock bolted far away. Great. I knew there was but one or two previous Baja California Sur records, this one some 500km south of the record I knew of. An hour later, just as I was headed back to the car, a flock of 1000 cowbirds landed on wires on the field. For reasons totally mysterious to me, the flock kept flying closer. After ten minutes, I was virtually underneath them, and easily visible was a female (and thus different from the original male) Bronzed Cowbird. This time I got some good video.
We ate dinner in the room (excellent Carne Asada Tampiqueno and shrimp-stuffed avocado) looking over the bay with dusk’s last light glowing on the horizon. People walked the promenade beneath our room, while a Black-crowned Night Heron fished beneath the street lights on the bay’s edge.
Back to the sewage ponds for the am. No cowbirds, but three Tropical Kingbirds squabbling in mesquite made for a nice show. And we found an American x Eurasian Wigeon hybrid. Given that there is but one or two BCS records for Eurasian Wigeon, a nice bird.
It’s worth noting here that access to the ponds has changed. The giant white whale tail monument has been joined by an equally giant yellow arch (Big Mac anyone?). The road is now a roundabout. So follow signs for the airport. Once past the monuments make a u-turn at the "retorno" sign. Salida (exit) to the right almost immediately, and then turn right on the first dirt road.
After birding the sewage ponds, we turned right onto the paved road, and took the first left, pointing us towards the water. We followed this road to its end and found a nice access point for the Ensenada de la La Paz. I suspect this is one of the first areas (or last areas) to have mudflat as the tide recedes and waxes. There were 43 White Pelicans (among many Browns), 150+ Great Egrets, 500 avocets, plus 6 Neotropic Cormorants and 8 Black Skimmers, the latter the first I’ve seen on my trips to the Cape. Add 1000 dowitchers (virtually all LBDO by call) and 200 Marbled Godwits and it was pretty nice.
From there we wandered towards Pichilingue and beyond, hitting any gull flock we could find. Last year 10% of the YF/WEGUs were Westerns. This year only one was. The mangroves, which we didn’t work as hard, yielded only one Mangrove Warbler and one Northern Waterthrush.
We had dinner at the Oasis. Eight hours later the chills began. The beginning of the end. Blam. Full blown turista. You’ll be happy to know that I’ll spare you the details, but I was exhausted. Determinedly, and utterly stupidly, I insisted we go to Todos Santos as planned. The day was arduous and the birding poor, as it has been every winter trip. Why do we keep going there. Because it looks like it should be great! And it was when Bill and I went there in October (Mourning Warbler, Orchard Oriole, 4 Black-and-Whites). Casey drove us back. Early. Thank God. She started in shortly after our return. We slept 17 fitful hours that night. I awoke feeling feeble, but vaguely human. Back to the sewage ponds. Where else?
The hybrid wigeon and the Trop Kings were still there, plus a fine male Cinn x BW Teal hybrid. I tried birding some of the ag lands around Chametla without success.
Dinner was a bowl of soup. Then there was ten more hours of sleep. Then, using a jeep I’d rented from within Los Arcos (via Dollar), I headed up the road to San Antonio de la Sierra. I was better yet, but a stroll of 100 feet at anything rating faster than "saunter" had me panting. At only 2500 feet, I couldn’t blame elevation. The first wash has 3 San Lucas Robins; first time they’d been seen there as far as I know. Plenty of birds including a Black-and-white Warbler. Then the second wash was without livestock (yea!!). I had 7 more San Lucas Robins scattered here and there, another BAW Warbler, an American Redstart, and.... a tooting Cape Pygmy- Owl. Hours of tooting had paid off. Never saw the dang thing, but heard it for quite a while. The montane birds were different from 2 years ago. No WB Nut, no Baird’s Junco, no Hutton’s Vireo, only one Spotted Towhee and lesser numbers of Band-tailed Pigeons. But plenty of Acorn Woodpeckers, Pac Slope Flys, Warbling Vireos, and San Lucan Vireos.
While birding the "second wash" I headed downstream (to your left as you drive up) until I found a side stream coming in from the right. I birded up it until I hit a stream coming in from the left, and then went up it. Lots of good habitat with understory. A Zone-tailed Hawk. Back at the car, I drove .4km upstream (wash was actually dry). I did find a couple wet spots, but they were birdless. But it was 2pm on a windy hot afternoon. Once I’d tried, late in the day, heading farther up the road. That day I saw a parade of yowling gringos in a dune buggy, vw bug, and Jeep Wrangler headed upwards. So it must be passable. Unless not seeing ‘em come down means something. Finally, on the way out, there’s a wash 11.6km from the highway at 1880 feet elevation. The stream has water and willows and some birds. Probably not good for montane stuff, but might be worth a poke for migrants.
Until Next Year— Steve.
HIGHLIGHTS
Abbreviations: ESJ (Estero San Jose), LPSTP (La Paz Sewage Treatment Ponds), SADLS (road to San Antonio de la Sierra), SJDC GC (San Jose del Cabo Golf Course)
Least Grebe (2) LPSTP 26 Jan
Blue-footed Booby (1) from Los Arcos 26 Jan
American White Pelican (43) La Paz 26 Jan
Neotropic Cormorant (6) La Paz 26 Jan
Great Egret (max: 175) La Paz 26 Jan
White-faced Ibis (max: 100) ESJ 21 Jan
Cackling Goose (3- taverneri) ESJ 21-23 Jan
Cackling Goose (1- race?) ESJ 23 Jan
Canada Goose (1- parvipes) ESJ 23 Jan
Eurasian x American Wigeon (1) LPSTP 26-27 Jan
Blue-winged Teal (max: 90) LPSTP 25 Jan
Cinnamon x BW Teal (male) LPSTP 28 Jan
Garganey (1) ESJ 22 Jan
Redhead (max: 100) LPSTP 26 Jan
Lesser Scaup (max: 100) LPSTP 26 Jan
Broad-winged Hawk (imm) ESJ 21 Jan
Zone-tailed Hawk (1) SJDC GC 24 Jan
Zone-tailed Hawk (1) SADLS 29 Jan
Merlin (2) ESJ 22 Jan
Merlin (1) Rancho Guamuchilar 23 Jan
Peregrine (1) ESJ 21-23 Jan
Peregrine (1) San Bernabe 23 Jan
Peregrine (2) LPSTP 25-27 Jan
Clapper Rail (1) ESJ 22 Jan
Lesser Yellowlegs (38) Chametla area 28 Jan
Solitary Sandpiper (1) Miraflores 23 Jan
Gull-billed Tern (3) Chametla 27 Jan
Elegant Tern (2) ESJ 21 Jan
Black Skimmer (8) La Paz 26 Jan
Ruddy Ground-Dove (2) ESJ 21 Jan
Ruddy Ground-Dove (2) Caduano 22 Jan
Ruddy Ground-Dove (1) SJDC 23 Jan
Cape Pygmy-Owl (1) SADLS 29 Jan
Northern Flicker (1) Santiago 24 Jan
Tropical Kingbird (1) ESJ 21 Jan
Tropical Kingbird (3) LPSTP 26-27 Jan
Thick-billed Kingbird (3) Caduano 22 Jan
Thick-billed Kingbird (6) Miraflores 22-23 Jan
Thick-billed Kingbird (3) Rancho Guamuchilar 24 Jan
Thick-billed Kingbird (3) Agua Caliente 24 Jan
Thick-billed Kingbird (1) Las Cuevas 25 Jan
Bell’s Vireo (1) ESJ 22 Jan
Bell’s Vireo (1) Caduano 22 Jan
Bell’s Vireo (3) Miraflores 23 Jan
Bell’s Vireo (2) Santiago 24 Jan
Bell’s Vireo (1) Agua Caliente 24 Jan
Plumbeous Vireo (1) Caduano 22 Jan
Plumbeous Vireo (1) Miraflores 23 Jan
Plumbeous Vireo (1) Agua Caliente 24 Jan
Blue-headed Vireo? (1) Caduano 22 Jan
Warbling Vireo (max: 7) Miraflores 23 Jan
Black-throated Magpie-Jay (3) Miraflores 23 Jan
Violet-green Swallows (4) LPSTP 25 Jan
N Rough-winged Swallow (150) LPSTP 25 Jan
Barn Swallow (1) LPSTP 25 Jan
San Lucas Robin (10) SADLS 29 Jan
Gray Thrasher— only 6 all trip!
Northern Parula (1 ad, 1 imm) Caduano 22 Jan
Myrtle Warbler (2) ESJ 22 Jan
Black-and-white Warbler (3) Miraflores 22-23 Jan
Black-and-white Warbler (2) SADLS 29 Jan
American Redstart (1 ad male) Miraflores 22 Jan
American Redstart (1 ad male) Santiago 24 Jan
American Redstart (1 female) SADLS 29 Jan
Northern Waterthrush (1) Pichilingue 27 Jan
Northern Waterthrush (1) Chametla 28 Jan
Belding’s Yellowthroat — only 8 all trip. One was at LPSTP, 25 Jan
Yellow-breasted Chat (1) Santiago 24 Jan
Summer Tanager (1) Miraflores 23 Jan
Clay-colored Sparrow (max:40) Rancho Guamuchilar 24 Jan
Lark Bunting: Supposed to be regular in winter in Cape. My first in 4 winter trips was at the Best Western 21 Jan. Grasshopper Sparrow (1) Rancho Guamuchilar 24 Jan
Bronzed Cowbird (2) LPSTP 25 Jan
Brown-headed Cowbird (max: 1000) LPSTP 25 Jan
Lesser Goldfinches: Much more widespread this trip. Seen at a couple places most days.
Trip List
Least Grebe
Pied-billed Grebe
Eared Grebe
Blue-footed Booby
Am White Pelican
Brown Pelican
Brandt’s Cormorant
Neotropic Cormorant
DC Cormorant
Mag Frigatebird
GB Heron
Great Egret
Snowy Egret
LB Heron
Tricolored Heron
Reddish Egret
Cattle Egret
Green Heron
BCNH
YCNH
White Ibis
WF Ibis
Turkey Vulture
Cackling Goose
Canada Goose
Gadwall
Am Wigeon
Am x Eur Wigeon
BW Teal
Cinnamon Teal
BW x Cinnamon Teal
Garganey
N. Shoveler
N. Pintail
GW Teal
Redhead
Lesser Scaup
Ruddy Duck
Osprey
N Harrier
Sharp-shinned Hawk
Cooper’s Hawk
Broad-winged Hawk
ZT Hawk
RT Hawk
Crested Caracara
Am Kestrel
Merlin
Peregrine Falcon
California Quail
Clapper Rail
Virginia Rail
Sora
Com Moorhen
Am Coot
BB Plover
Snowy Plover
Wilson’s Plover
Semi Plover
Killdeer
Am Oystercatcher
BN Stilt
Am Avocet
Gr Yellowlegs
Le Yellowlegs
Solitary Sand
Willet
Spotted Sand
Whimbrel
LB Curlew
Marbled Godwit
Sanderling
Western Sand
Least Sand
Dunlin
SB Dow
LB Dow
Wilson’s Snipe
Laughing Gull
Heermann’s Gull
RB Gull
CA Gull
Herring Gull
YF Gull
Western Gull
GB Tern
Caspian Tern
Royal Tern
Elegant Tern
Forster’s Tern
Black Skimmer
Rock Pigeon
Band-tailed Pigeon
WW Dove
Mourning Dove
C Ground Dove
R Ground Dove
Greater Roadrunner
Cape Pygmy-Owl
Lesser Nighthawk
Xantus’s Humm
Costa’s Humm
Belted Kingfisher
Acorn Woodp
Gila Woodp
LB Woodp
Northern Flicker
Gilded Flicker
Gray Fly
Western/PS Fly
Black Phoebe
Vermilion Fly
AT Fly
Cassin’s King
Tropical King
TB King
Loggerhead Shrike
Bell’s Vireo
Plumbeous Vireo
Cassin’s Vireo
Blue-headed Vireo???
Warbling Vireo
Western Scrub-J
Black-throated Magpie Jay (Escapee)
Common Raven
VG Swallow
RW Swallow
Barn Swallow
Verdin
Cactus Wren
House Wren
Marsh Wren
RC Kinglet
BG Gnatcatcher
Hermit Thrush
San Lucas Robin
N Mockingbird
Gray Thrasher
Eur Starling
Am Pipit
Phainopepla
OC Warbler (90% lutescens)
Northern Parula
Yellow Warbler
Mangrove Warbler
Audubon’s Warbler
Myrtle Warbler
BT Gray Warbler
BAW Warbler
Am Redstart
N Waterthrush
MacG Warbler
Com Yellowthroat
Belding’s Yellowthroat
Wilson’s Warbler
YB Chat
Summer Tanager
Western Tanager
GT Towhee
Spotted Towhee
CA Towhee
CC Sparrow
Brewer’s Sparrow
Lark Sparrow
Lark Bunting
Grasshopper Sparrow
Lincoln’s Sparrow
Gambell’s WC Sparrow
Oriantha WC Sparrow (about 70% of WCSP)
N Cardinal
Pyrrhuloxia
BH Grosbeak
Blue Grosbeak
Lazuli Bunting
Varied Bunting
RWBB
YHBB
Brewer’s BB
Bronzed Cowbird
BH Cowbird
Hooded Oriole
Scott’s Oriole
House Finch
Lesser Goldfinch
House Sparrow
179 species not including subspecies and escapes, of course.