By Edward Warden
Photo credits Ben Zerante

It’s safe to say the day was defined by one emotion: confused delight. November has always been a month where the unexpected is to be expected when it comes to odd bird finds. Indeed, the incredible report of a King Eider merely days before our hike certainly set the tone. While none of the more than dozen folks who came out on this chilly but calm morning were expecting an Eider or anything quite so rare, the bird had been slowly moving south along the lakefront since its initial report in Evanston…

Making our way from the Rainbow Beach parking lot, we briefly scanned the beach and made our way down the path through the dunes hoping to notch a late shorebird or skulking Nelson’s Sparrow. No dice on either. We wasted little time on these fruitless ventures and made a beeline for the breakwater protecting the Eugene Sawyer Purification plant, the notorious waterfowl hang-out. With anticipation, we stepped up onto the rocks, set up scopes, and scanned the water. Sure enough, the artificial harbor was swimming with hundreds of water birds. Annoyingly, the wind was blowing in just the right way to push most of said birds out of view. If there was an Eider, we didn’t see it. Still, what we could see without difficulty was still quite incredible. Hundreds of Redheads, Scaup, and American Coots with some killer views of multiple Horned Grebes. Boom—life bird! For a few members of our group, we managed to already check off a life bird with the grebes.

As we made the best of things, we reflected on what else we’d love to see. Some cool sparrows, Snow Bunting, a hawk or two, etc. And with some kind of cosmic cue, a flock of no less than 24 Snow Buntings glided in out of nowhere and touched down on the beach a short distance from our group. Upon overcoming our shock and gathering our jaws off the ground, we shimmied our way down the beach to see if we could get a better look at the birds which had magically disappeared in the sand and brush as quickly as they appeared. In the process of seeking, we spooked an American Woodcock and relocated the very cooperative Snow Buntings. Boom—life bird! For several members of the group, and certainly the largest single group I’d ever seen. To cap things off, as we turned back toward the parking lot, a Yellowlegs calling at the top of its lungs flew by. A short debate ensued which ultimately resulted in the group settling on a Greater Yellowlegs and with that, we hopped in our cars and made our way a few blocks to Park 566.

We received a tip earlier in the morning that a flock of American Pipits had been seen near the entrance of the park. So riding the rainbow high, we started our journey through 566 in search of another potential life bird for several folks. Things started fairly slowly, with very little activity short of a handful of Dark-eyed Juncos and Savannah Sparrows. The lack of action left us feeling like we were holding our breath. When suddenly, a flock emerged from the grass like a coordinated plume of smoke. Pipits! Boom—life bird! 15 of them in fact!

Following the Pipits, our hike continued to be eerily quiet so conversation naturally turned once again to what we’d like to see. Short-eared Owl, LeConte Sparrow, Norther Harrier, etc. Within moments, shouts erupted from the back of the group. A low flying Northern Harrier glided gracefully across the weedy fields. Flashing us with rich tones of brown, auburn, and white, the raptor flew within a few dozen yards providing some of the best views of a Harrier any of us had ever seen. And yes, for at least one member of a group... Boom—life bird!

At this point, we figured we were on to something and so began throwing out all kinds of names. Merlin, any Scoter, a Longspur, Horned Lark, Snowy or Short-ear Owl, you name it! By now, a couple hours and well over a mile in, sore feet and fatigue started to set in and some members of our party began to peel off. We picked up the pace and hustled to the end of the park. As tired as we were, we were on a group high with everyone present now having a life bird for the day besides yours truly. Fueled with anticipation, we reached the slip at the end of the park. Absolutely nothing.

As a trip leader, there’s nothing more satisfying than being able to guide participants to and show them something they’ve never seen before, bird or otherwise. At this point, that’s happened in spades. So you can imagine how thrilled I was when, on top of everything, after throwing in the towel and turning into the wind to make the long trek back to our cars and our respective homes, I too, got a life bird. A large white bird with deep, floppy wing beats, cruised across our field of view. A Great Egret? No, everything about this bird was wrong. Short bill, stocky body, legs barely extended beyond the tail? It could only be a Cattle Egret. Boom—life bird!

These are the kinds of hikes you dream of. We never did get a King Eider, but everyone in the group, veteran to beginner, got a life bird this day. The birds we did see put on incredible displays as rare as seeing some of the birds themselves. It was the kind of hike that reminds you why we care. Why we go out no matter the weather or how stupid it seems. The kind of hike that reminds you how blessed we are to share the world with such beautiful creatures.

ebird lists:
Rainbow Beach - https://ebird.org/checklist/S61142307
Park 566 - https://ebird.org/checklist/S61146668

Trip Report: Rainbow Beach & Park 566 - Nov. 3