Our car crept along a dusty road several weeks ago and I spotted a swimming swan, then another and another. Soon I was looking at several dozen trumpeter swans on a lake in the Seney National Wildlife Refuge, in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. I hadn't expected to find swans in July at Seney, as our local wintering trumpeters had long since departed to Alaska to breed.

My wife, Julie, and I were on a driving trip to the Midwest to visit old friends and relatives. Naturally we worked in a little birding along the way. Indeed, I

count many bird species among my old friends, and I am eager to revisit them wherever I go.

Birds such as robins, crows, goldfinches, house sparrows, starlings, red-winged blackbirds, house wrens and mourning doves are easy to identify because they look just like those around Sequim.

Range maps can be a particularly valuable tool in identifying birds while traveling, particularly when time constraints don't let one to linger for thorough study. Locally, for example, we have two swallows that are white underneath, violet-green and tree, and telling them apart can be challenging. But violet-greens aren't found east of the prairies, making tree swallows easy to identify.

Black birds with light-colored eyes in Sequim are male Brewer's blackbirds, whereas in the Midwest, common grackles uniquely have these features. Where the ranges of these two species overlap, I needed to look for other clues to decide which species I was seeing.

The chickadees we found in Michigan were the same "black-caps" we have in

Sequim, whereas from range maps I knew that the quite similar birds we found in southern Indiana were

Carolina chickadees.

Northern flickers have two primary subspecies - red-shafted, the dominant western subspecies, and yellow-shafted, found east of the Rockies. Hybrids exist where their ranges overlap. All three have been seen around Sequim, the yellow-shafted subspecies being far out of range - a cautionary note against putting total trust in range maps.



Sing a song

Being able to recognize bird voices adds a whole new dimension to birding on the road, not that I can recognize every bird voice I hear, even around Sequim. On our trip, I frequently heard song sparrows singing. Knowing the basic pattern of their song(s) - each male knows one to two dozen songs - let me identify them whether or not I saw them.

Our morning walks often were near marshy areas bordered by trails. Aside from countless red-winged blackbirds, time and again we heard common yellowthroats (warblers) singing, although we rarely saw one. One highlight was the yellowthroat that flew from hiding to perch 30 feet up on a leafless snag in a marsh. I enjoyed seeing him throw his head back with mouth open for each burst of song.

At numerous rest areas along our nation's highways, and in similar settings, yellow warblers (see photo) sang from high in trees. They, too, stayed out of sight, hiding in the leaves. I'm left wondering how many dozens of yellow warblers I have overlooked on past trips when I didn't know their voices.

Range maps also can be useful when interpreting bird voices. While in Indiana and Michigan, a whiny voice from bushes alerted me to the presence of a gray catbird. A similar voice in Sequim only could have come from a spotted towhee. The ranges of these two species don't overlap, however, as spotted towhees aren't found east of the prairies.

A towhee caught my attention in the badlands of South Dakota. In plain sight 15 or so feet away it uttered a song unlike either of the rather different songs of the spotted and Eastern towhees. This bird looked much like a spotted towhee, but it lacked spots on its back, only having light-colored streaking. I concluded that I was seeing a hybrid between the two species.

Bird identification gets harder while blasting along interstate highways. Most small birds are hopeless. The "V" wing pattern of soaring turkey vultures is a constant everywhere. But the large dark, soaring bird with a mostly white tail that I saw in Montana wasn't a bald eagle. Solid white patches under its wings made it a juvenile golden eagle.

After an enjoyable three-year run, I am stepping down as regular columnist of Our Birds. I will be joined by other Audubon chapter members in writing future columns in this series.



Author: Dave Jackson, series editor and webmaster. Send comments to me at editor@olybird.org or 360-683-1355. Details of upcoming field trips and all past columns in this series on our Web site (www.olybird.org).