Birds of New Mexico
In a land too dry for excuses, the Southwest’s birds don’t wait for rain. In New Mexico they show up in flame orange, cactus green, and desert dust, and make the whole thing look easy.
Flocks & Rocks is an annual trek orchestrated by the Prairie Trek Expeditions and the Cottonwood Gulch organization, based in Albuquerque, New Mexico. The leader of the Flocks portion of our trip was Dr. Arch McCallum, a noted ornithologist and master teacher. The leader of the Rocks portion of the trip was Dr. Brad Jeffrey, an enthusiastic geologist and gifted teacher. We had a group of 21 adult trekkers (ages 20 to 80) and our journey made a clock-wise circle around the Mountain ranges of this beautiful state. Why this trip? I have wanted to go on this trek for many years and finally was able to set aside time in my calendar to go on it with Arch and Brad. The best part, however, was the joy of sharing the trip with my wife, Tracy and our three adult daughters: Margaret, Eleanor, and Kathleen.
The order of the birds is an attempt to use the taxonomic sequence used by modern North American field guides (Sibley, National Geographic, Peterson), following current AOU/Clements/eBird classification: waterfowl → gamebirds → grebes → doves → roadrunners → nightjars → hummingbirds → rails → shorebirds → herons/ibis → vultures → hawks → owls → woodpeckers → falcons → flycatchers → shrikes/vireos → corvids → larks → swallows → bushtit → nuthatches → wrens → dipper → thrushes → mimids → warblers → sparrows/towhees → cardinals/tanagers/buntings → blackbirds → finches → Old World sparrows.
After the images (one, two or three pictures of the birds we say) I have made some remarks about the birds, should they have something to say to me in the moment. I hope you enjoy this list as much as we did on Flocks & Rocks. If you want to go on a trip like this one, here is a link to the website we used for the expedition: https://cottonwoodgulch.org/programs/treks-for-adults/flocks-and-rocks/
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Let’s Start the List with Waterfowl
Canada Goose (Branta canadensis) — The HOA president of every golf course and office park, and it knows it. Watch out for those green poop droppings. They can be nasty on running shoes and Vibram souled hiking boots.
Blue-winged Teal (Spatula discors) — Small, sharp, and gone before you’ve finished raising the binoculars. We were seeing these ducks wandering among the reeds at Water Canyon near Socorro, New Mexico. They were hiding along with the cinnamon teal, pied-billed grebe, mallards and coots.
Cinnamon Teal (Spatula cyanoptera) — Looks dipped in desert sunset; acts like just another duck. The eye of the male teal is a color only found in nature. It is stunning. We spotted what looked like a family of these ducks in a pond near our campground in Water Canyon.
Mallard (Anas platyrhynchos) — The default setting for “duck,” everywhere, always, without apology. The quintessential duck has got to be the mallard. It is fun to see and hear the quack of these birds any time of day, any body of water. Love them!
Ruddy Duck (Oxyura jamaicensis) — A sky-blue bill and a tail like a raised eyebrow — this duck has main character energy and appears to have been drawn by Walt Disney himself. The Ruddy Duck is such a joyful, unappologetic bird. Seeing the blue bill is such fun, no matter how many times you have seen these ducks in the past.
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Now on to Gamebirds
Scaled Quail (Callipepla squamata) — Sometimes called the Desert “Cotton-Top,” we saw a mother and chick running the caliche flats like they owned the deed. We heard their call first and then saw a pair of these quail scooting in and out of the clumps of grama grass at the campground for the Valley of Fires, in Carrizozo, New Mexico. It was a desolate area with basalt flows all around us. The birding was great for Nighthawks, Mourning Doves, Mockingbirds, and Scaled Quail (my first sighting).
Wild Turkey (Meleagris gallopavo) — All swagger, zero subtlety, and somehow still surprised when you notice it. We saw a whole crew of turkeys strolling along a fenceline on the Fort Union Ranch in Watrous, New Mexico. They appeared not to have a care in the world, as fire trucks and birders, buzzed all around, watching the forest fires on an adjacent ridge-line.
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Moving on to Grebes
Pied-billed Grebe (Podilymbus podiceps) — This water loving bird is like a chicken that learned to dive and never mentions it at parties. We saw a wide selection of adult and juvenile grebes on the ponds and lakes of our trip to New Mexico.
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Pigeons & Doves
Eurasian Collared-Dove (Streptopelia decaocto) — The uninvited houseguest of the dove world — arrived a few decades ago, never left. We heard these birds calling and saw them sitting atop trees, posts, fences and even on the ground. They were comfortable in our campground, eating anything crumb-like that the humans may have left behind.
White-winged Dove (Zenaida asiatica) — Sounds like it’s asking “who cooks for you?” — the unofficial soundtrack of a saguaro summer. The close-up view of eye-ring of this bird is amazing! And its call? Very fun to recognize in the desert.
Mourning Dove (Zenaida macroura) — These doves are easily imitated and fun to listen to, even if most people feel their call is sad and mournful. This birder feels they are mournful only in name; in practice, they are the calmest bird at the feeder.
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Catchin’ up with Roadrunners
Greater Roadrunner (Geococcyx californianus) — This bird would rather sprint through a cactus patch than fly ten feet. We saw this signature bird of the southwest while just outside the Albuquerque airport. Our ornithologist, Arch McCallum, said we could NOT count it on our bird list because we saw it before the Flocks and Rocks trek officially began. Well, since this is my list, we are counting it anyway. And what a nice find it is!
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The strangely named Nightjars
Common Nighthawk (Chordeiles minor) — A “peent” from nowhere, and then everywhere. A sudden change in direction and it is in a dive-bomb “boom,” then it’s gone. The nighthawk is the desert’s own private fireworks show. And the “boom” is louder than most people expect! We saw a pair of these graceful fliers while camping at the Valleys of Fire in Carrizozo. They were flying over the lava and soaring to the heights, as the morning sun rose above the mountains to our East. It was a beautiful dance.
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Now on to Hummingbirds
Black-chinned Hummingbird (Archilochus alexandri) — Mostly plain looking, until the light hits that throat — then instant amethyst. What a color, what a sight! We saw these beauties and the rest of these competitive fliers (diving competitively after the remaining spots at the birdfeeders, while at the Bloch family ranch in Mora, New Mexico.
Arch McCallum may correct our sightings, but I believe we saw Black-chinned, Rufous, Broad-tailed, Calliope and Ruby-throated hummers that day.
Thank you Bloch family for hosting us for the afternoon.
Broad-tailed Hummingbird (Selasphorus platycercus) — You’ll hear the wings before you see the bird — a trilling little jet engine at 9,000 feet.
Ruby-throated Hummingbird (Archilochus colubris) — A flash of green and red, these brilliant, tiny, precision-flying creatures glitter like jewels in the full sun, then vanish with a zip toward the next nectar source. Feeders and flower gardens are great ways to attract these birds, and some people turn their yards into buzzing clouds of hummingbirds each summer.
Rufous Hummingbird (Selasphorus rufus) — A tiny copper firecracker with a Napoleon complex and a feeder to defend.
Calliope Hummingbird (Selasphorus calliope) — North America’s smallest bird, with a magenta throat streaked like war paint. Small but never overlooked these hummers dance and hover, performing U-shaped display dives for females. During these displays the male makes a sputtering buzz with his tail feathers and gives a sharp zinging call.
Our daughter, Eleanor, spotted one of these small birds lying dead on the roadway. She photographed it and then drew a picture of it by hand. It remains the best bird image of the Trek this summer!
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On to Rails & Coots
Sora (Porzana carolina) — A whinnying call from deep in the reeds; the bird itself, rarely seen and utterly unbothered by that fact. We fall into the category of “heard these fellas but never saw it,” too. These elusive reed dwellers were out there for sure, we just could not get our binoculars close enough to see it on the wing. There are three images of the Sora out of guilt for never actually seeing one.
American Coot (Fulica americana) — Not a duck. Will die on that hill, with those absurd lobed feet, every single time.
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Shorebirds, Yes! Love these birds
Killdeer (Charadrius vociferus) — The most dramatic actor in the parking lot, Killdeer are always faking a broken wing to save chicks that were never in danger to begin with. Their call is indeed vociferus. You can hear it many football fields away!
Black-necked Stilt (Himantopus mexicanus) — Legs for days, patience for none — this species is the desert wetland’s own runway model. They are such fun to watch as they stroll in the shallows searching for insects and larvae.
Greater Yellowlegs (Tringa melanoleuca) — This wader announces itself loudly, wades in like it’s late for something, and probably is.
We saw these birds at the Fort Union Ranch in the settling ponds and they were both loud and hungry. It was nearly 100 degrees that afternoon, so forgive me if I were seeing a mirage. In any event it was very fun to watch the waders as they scavanged in the shallows. Arch McCallum or Jamey French may correct this sighting with the statement, “NO, we only saw the LESSER Yellowlegs in the pond!” For that reason, I have included both species, just in case.
Lesser Yellowlegs (Tringa flavipes) — The Greater’s quieter, daintier sibling — same yellow socks, half the volume.
Spotted Sandpiper (Actitis macularius) — Bobs its tail constantly, like it’s perpetually nodding along to a beat only it can hear. We saw this bobber land on a rock near the pond at Water Canyon and it was amazing to see it never miss a beat!
Wilson’s Phalarope (Phalaropus tricolor) — Spins in tight circles to stir up food, and role-reversal royalty — here, the female of the species wears the brighter plumage.
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Heros: The Herons & Ibis
Great Blue Heron (Ardea herodias) — Stands motionless in the shallows for so long it starts to look like a lawn ornament — until it isn’t. For some identification purposes the Great Blues are listed in the Herodias Group. Not sure exactly what that means, I have to say that seeing them on the wing is one of the greatest viewing pleasures of my birding life. I feel hope when I see them on the wing, circling, and landing nearby.
Glossy Ibis (Plegadis falcinellus) — Looks black from a distance, iridescent bronze-green up close — a bird that rewards a second look. And even a third look. The face of the Glossy is sometimes confused with the White-Faced Ibis, which has a slightly wider band of white around its eyes and beak.
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Cleaning Up with Vultures
Turkey Vulture (Cathartes aura) — Circles the desert sky on thermals doing the honest, unglamorous work nobody thanks it for. The TV is on when turkey vultures appear. Their wing patterns and lighter underwing coloring are distinctive. We often get excited to see the hawks and eagles, only to be disappointed, “Oh, its only a TV.” That said, they help clean up the landscape from roadkill better than any sanitation trucks could.
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Now for the Hawks
Swainson’s Hawk (Buteo swainsoni) — Skips the mountains for grasshoppers on the wing — an epic migration for an unglamorous snack. If you want to know more about the namesake of this beautiful flier, you can find it on another Bird Post in the henryehooper blogs: https://henryehooper.blog/birds-of-swainson/
Zone-tailed Hawk (Buteo albonotatus) — Flies like a vulture to lull the unsuspecting, then strikes like a hawk. The desert’s best-dressed impersonator.
Red-tailed Hawk (Buteo jamaicensis) — That piercing scream in every movie is a bald eagle’s stunt double — it’s actually this bird’s voice.
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Now for Wise Owls
Great Horned Owl (Bubo virginianus) — Grip strength that could crush your hand, delivered with the calm indifference of a tenured professor.
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Hold on to your nuts, here come the Woodpeckers
Acorn Woodpecker (Melanerpes formicivorus) — Clown-faced hoarder of acorns, these birds turn whole trees into nut pantries, then defends the pantry like it’s Fort Knox.
Hairy Woodpecker (Leuconotopicus villosus) — The Downy Woodpecker’s bigger, longer-billed lookalike — perpetually mistaken for its smaller cousin.
Northern Flicker (Colaptes auratus) — A woodpecker that gave up on trees and started hammering the ground for ants — and your gutters, at 6 a.m.
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The Lone Falcon is Coming
American Kestrel (Falco sparverius) — North America’s smallest falcon, dressed like it borrowed its colors from a paint sample chart. It is such a beautiful bird, I could spend hours watching it balance on telephone wires, show of its wing and face colors and just fly. It is a winner, in my book.
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On to Flycatchers
Western Wood-Pewee (Contopus sordidulus) — Not as clearly as its Eastern cousin, but this flycatcher says its own name, sadly, from the same branch, all day, all summer. It is less colorful than other flycatchers, but fun to watch flitting back and forth in action, nonetheless.
Black Phoebe (Sayornis nigricans) — A tuxedoed regular at every desert fountain and horse trough, tail pumping like a metronome. We saw this elegant flycatcher moving back and forth over the waters in Water Canyon, naturally. It was very fun to watch on its mission of catching as many bugs in flight as possible, without getting its wings wet!
Say’s Phoebe (Sayornis saya) — A soft peach belly and a plaintive whistle — one of the few birds truly at home in open desert scrub. There are many nesting pairs of Say’s Phoebes at the Cottonwood Gulch outside of Thoreau, New Mexico.
As someone who knew nothing about the name — Say — I did some research to see who he was and why we might care about this fellow. Here is a link to what I found out: https://henryehooper.blog/birds-of-say/
Vermilion Flycatcher (Pyrocephalus rubinus) — A hot flame with wings; this species may be the single best argument for looking twice at any desert wash. He is an eye-dazzler for sure.
Western Kingbird (Tyrannus verticalis) — Lemon-bellied and pugnacious, this territorial bird will absolutely chase a hawk off its fence post. They are also beautiful fliers, able to catch slightly less acrobatic insects with relative ease. They are fun to watch on the wing!
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Killer Shrikes & Warbling Vireos
Loggerhead Shrike (Lanius ludovicianus) — Songbird by build, serial killer by habit — it impales prey on barbed wire like a tiny, terrifying butcher.
Plumbeous Vireo (Vireo plumbeus) — Slate-gray and slow-moving through pine and pinyon canopy, singing in unhurried, deliberate phrases. The name Plumbeous refers to the mineral lead, which is what we have often made into pipes for our homes. And when those pipes spring a leak, we call the plumber! The plumbeous vireo is lead colored, hence the name.
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Can’t Forget Jays, Crows & Nutcrackers
Canada Jay (Perisoreus canadensis) — Formerly called the Gray Jay and now officially the “Canada Jay,” this high altitude intruder is famously bold enough to steal food right off a hiker’s plate. Stay vigilant out there, the jays are watching and waiting for the next time to swoop in for your meal.
Steller’s Jay (Cyanocitta stelleri) — A mohawked mountain gangster with a voice that mimics hawks just to clear the feeder, this is a beautiful flier with an annoyingly loud and creaky call, especially when more than one in a flock come your way.
Pinyon Jay (Gymnorhinus cyanocephalus) — Travels in raucous, all-blue mobs, planting the pinyon forests it depends on, one buried seed at a time. If you thought the Steller’s Jays were loud, wait until you come across a flock of Pinyon Jays! So much LOUDER.
Woodhouse’s Scrub-Jay (Aphelocoma woodhouseii) — No crest, no ceremony with this bird, just a dusty-blue interior desert local that never met a piñon nut it wouldn’t hoard.
Clark’s Nutcracker (Nucifraga columbiana) — Buries tens of thousands of pine seeds and remembers where — a memory that would humble any human. We spotted this high altitude nutcracker while visiting the chair lift at Taos ski resort. It was fun to see as it flew across our path while we rested for lunch. Fortunately it was more interested in the nuts than our lunches.
Common Raven (Corvus corax) — Bigger, croakier, and smarter than any crow, there is even a professional football team who chose it as their mascot. These birds are problem-solves, always looking like it’s got somewhere to be.
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Larks, the Horned Variety
Horned Lark (Eremophila alpestris) — Tiny black “horns” and a face like a bandit’s mask, singing from open ground where nothing else will nest.
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Swallows
Violet-green Swallow (Tachycineta thalassina) — Emerald back, violet rump — a bird that looks like it’s wearing an oil slick, and pulls it off.
Barn Swallow (Hirundo rustica) — Deeply forked tail, mud nest under every eave — the original bird that decided your porch was prime real estate.
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Bushtits & Chickadees
Bushtit (Psaltriparus minimus) — A gray puffball that travels in a chattering mob and builds a sock-shaped nest like nothing else in North America. We saw a passel of these puffballs on the trail at Fort Union Ranch. They flitted in and around the dry creek bed as we walked up one of the canyons.
Black-capped Chickadee (Poecile atricapillus) — This chickadee is a bird that is universally considered “cute,” thanks to its oversized round head, tiny body, and curiosity about everything, including humans. The chickadee’s black cap and bib; white cheeks; gray back, wings, and tail; and whitish underside with buffy sides are distinctive. Its habit of investigating people and everything else in its home territory, and quickness to discover bird feeders, make it a beloved species across the US.
Mountain Chickadee (Poecile gambeli) — One of the many birds named after William Gambel, this is one of our groups favorites, because of its call and its friendly nature. Similar to the Black-capped Chickadee it is somewhat irresistible. Here is a Bird post about Gambel that may be interesting in and of itself: https://henryehooper.blog/birds-gambels-birds/
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Now to Nuthatches
White-breasted Nuthatch (Sitta carolinensis) — Walks headfirst down tree trunks, defying gravity and common sense with equal confidence.
Pygmy Nuthatch (Sitta pygmaea) — Palm-sized and never alone — these ponderosa pine specialists roost in piles to survive the cold. They are surprisingly difficult to spot, as they seem to be loud, yet always scooting off to the other side of the tree, as your binoculars zero-in on the area you know the bird must be pecking. With patience, it will eventually come into view. It is worth the wait, as they are cute and pint-sized, indeed.
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Wrens
Canyon Wren (Catherpes mexicanus) — Its cascading, descending song is the actual sound of the desert Southwest — canyons feel empty without the call and the wilderness seems less wild. These are some of the most loved wrens and seem to be more numerous than the Cactus wrens and House wrens and Rock wrens of the area (none of which I saw on this trek).
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Dippers that Oozel
American Dipper (Cinclus mexicanus) — A plain gray songbird that walks underwater against the current, in mountain streams, like it’s no big deal. We saw a lone dipper swimming and jumping upstream from our campsite we had near Taos. It was fun to see on this trip.
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Rushes to Thrushes
Western Bluebird (Sialia mexicana) — Rusty chest, deep blue back — a bird so photogenic it looks retouched even in the wild.
Mountain Bluebird (Sialia currucoides) — Sky-blue, all over, like it flew straight out of the horizon it’s usually photographed against. This is one of those iconic birds that is hard to believe that it is THAT blue. It is a show stopper for sure. Arch would call: “Bird Emergency” for all of the spotting locations for real!
American Robin (Turdus migratorius) — The bird everyone thinks they know, tugging worms out of lawns with theatrical concentration.
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Mockingbirds & Thrashers
Sage Thrasher (Oreoscoptes montanus) — The smallest thrasher, but it sings the longest, most tangled song of any bird in the sagebrush sea.
Northern Mockingbird (Mimus polyglottos) — Steals every other bird’s song, remixes it, and sings the medley at 2 a.m. under a streetlight. This songster is such a good mimic that the scientific name cheers for the many languages and tonalities the Mockingbird has mastered. Sing along with Mock, why don’t you.
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Wood-Warblers
Yellow Warbler (Setophaga aestiva) — A streak of pure sunshine in the willows, singing “sweet-sweet-sweet, I’m so sweet” like it means it.
Common Yellowthroat (Geothlypis trichas) — A black bandit mask on a yellow face, singing “witchety-witchety-witchety” from the reeds like it’s daring you to find it.
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Towhees & Sparrows
Spotted Towhee (Pipilo maculatus) — Kicks through leaf litter with both feet at once, like a bird doing a two-footed hop-scratch dance.
Canyon Towhee (Melozone fusca) — Dusty brown, easy to overlook, perfectly camouflaged for a life spent on the ground in the arid Southwest.
Chipping Sparrow (Spizella passerina) — A rusty cap and a dry trilling song, so plain it’s practically the sparrow definition of “sparrow.”
On our trip to Fort Union Ranch we saw about 40 of these birds along the fences and in flocks on the patches of grass. Other than the Canada Geese, these seemed to be the most numerous birds we saw on the entire flocks and rocks trip.
Black-throated Sparrow (Amphispiza bilineata) — This resident of open, shrubby deserts is one of the sharpest-looking of all sparrows. Black-throated Sparrows have neat gray faces set off by two bold white stripes and a neat black triangular patch on the throat. The face pattern jumps out when the bird is perched in the open, but at other times the soft brown back and pale underparts help it blend in with its desert home.
Vesper Sparrow (Pooecetes gramineus) — Named for its habit of singing into the evening, long after every other sparrow has called it a day. We enjoyed the vesper calls and the sight of these small seed eaters, which were one of the highlights of our trip to Fort Union Ranch. Thank you, Jamey French for the opportunity to stay afor a two night stay at Fort Union!
Lark Sparrow (Chondestes grammacus) — A harlequin face pattern that makes it the most elaborately painted sparrow you’ll ever mistake for something rarer.
Lark Bunting (Calamospiza melanocorys) — Breeding males go jet-black with a white wing patch. This beautiful black and white flier is Colorado’s state bird. A sartorial trend-setter, this bunting is always dressed for a formal occasion in the middle of the dusty and dry prairie.
Dark-eyed Junco (Junco hyemalis) — Slate-gray with a flash of white tail feathers on each side of his body, this junco is the self-appointed harbinger of winter at every feeder. For those of us in the Pacific Northwest, they stick around all year. The Oregon Junco is a daily participant at our feeder.
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Tanagers, Grosbeaks & Buntings
Hepatic Tanager (Piranga flava) — Brick-red and named for the color of quivering liver, which is neither particularly poetic nor the most flattering compliment in ornithology. This was my first lifetime discovery of this beautiful tanager. Spotting it in New Mexico in the tall Ponderosa Pine boughs was thrilling. Water Canyon has a place in my birding heart for sure.
Western Tanager (Piranga ludoviciana) — A red-headed, yellow-bodied bird that looks tropical and somehow spends summers in pine forests up to 10,000 feet. This tanager, alongside the Scarlet Tanager, are gaudy and gutsy and exhilarating to see in the wild. The Western Tanager is beyond the shadow of a doubt, one of the most spectacularly feathered birds in North America. If that beauty is in doubt, show me one that can top it!
Black-headed Grosbeak (Pheucticus melanocephalus) — This species is one of the few birds that can safely eat monarch butterflies without getting sick, thanks to an oversized bill and a cast iron stomach.
Blue Grosbeak (Passerina caerulea) — This cerulian-toned bird with deep indigo body and rusty brown wing bars, it could easily move up on the pleasure meeting of seeing this one in mating season. Worth noting is that the Lazuli Bunting is a larger, chunkier-billed cousin.
Lazuli Bunting (Passerina amoena) — Turquoise head, cinnamon chest, white belly — proof the desert scrub can outdress the tropics.
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Bye-Bye Blackbirds
Red-winged Blackbird (Agelaius phoeniceus) — Perches on a cattail, flashes those red-and-yellow epaulets, and screams “conk-la-ree!” like it’s staking a claim, because it is.
Brewer’s Blackbird (Euphagus cyanocephalus) — The male Brewer’s Blackbird is a glossy, almost liquid combination of black, midnight blue and metallic green. Females are a staid brown, without the male’s bright eye or the female Red-winged Blackbird’s streaks. They were common in towns and open habitats of much of New Mexico. Birdwatchers will see these long-legged, ground-foraging birds on sidewalks and city parks, as well as chuckling in flocks atop shrubs, trees and cattails.
Western Meadowlark (Sturnella neglecta) — A bright yellow chest, a black “V” necklace, and a flute-like song that’s basically the state anthem of six different states: Kansas, Montana, Nebraska, North Dakota, Oregon (designated as the state songbird), Wyoming. The sound of these birds is glorious and so fun to watch as it moves from ground to wire, to fence and back again, calling all the while.
Yellow-headed Blackbird (Xanthocephalus xanthocephalus) — A blazing yellow head on a jet-black body, with a song that sounds like a rusty gate — beauty and a voice that doesn’t match. And along with the rusty gate comes a scientific name that is difficult to spell, so they double the trouble by making us say the name twice. Still, despite the last few comments, this is a beautiful bird to spot in the reeds of a nearby pond.
Great-tailed Grackle (Quiscalus mexicanus) — Iridescent black, a keel-shaped tail, and a call like a rusty machine — the parking lot’s loudest, most confident resident. These birds seem to be imperious with their heads held high and their sweeping long tails trailing behind them with ease. We saw them in Taos on the first night in New Mexico and in many of the urban areas thereafter.
Brown-headed Cowbird (Molothrus ater) — This “el cheepo bird” never builds a nest and never raises a chick. Instead it quietly hands the job to somebody else, laying the egg in another bird species nest for them to raise. The ultimate freeloader.
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Atticus Finches
House Finch (Haemorhous mexicanus) — Raspberry-red head, cheerful warble, and an absolute lock on every backyard feeder in the Southwest.
Red Crossbill (Loxia curvirostra) — Its bill tips actually cross — an odd design flaw that turns out to be the perfect tool for prying open pine cones.
Pine Siskin (Spinus pinus) — A streaky little finch with hidden flashes of yellow in the wings — easy to dismiss until it opens up in flight.
Lesser Goldfinch (Spinus psaltria) — North America’s smallest goldfinch — a bright yellow bundle of attitude that dominates the thistle feeder anyway. The plaintive call of this goldfinch is easy to recognize and fun to hear as it approaches bird feeders and bird fountains. It is not as vocal in flight as the American Goldfinch, the gaudy cousin, but it is still pleasant nonetheless.
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Old World Sparrows
House Sparrow (Passer domesticus) — Not native, not shy, not going anywhere, this scrappy immigrant has outhustled and outcompeted half the continent’s native cavity-nesters. It is mighty: mighty hard to displace, and mighty hard to move.
THE END …
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Almost, that is.
Below are some images of birds that we were teased about by Arch McCallum that we MIGHT see this year on Flocks and Rocks Trek; however, for all sorts of reasons and explanations I did not see them. Others in our group may have spotted them and positively ID’d them. I did not. We can imagine these birds in our minds as the rest of this Bird Post fades away with the summer of 2026.
PLUS, the thought of seeing these species next year is a solid reason to come back in 2027!!!
Henry E. Hooper 