Give the People What They Want

In 1981, the English rock band The Kinks gave the people what they thought they wanted: 11 short rock songs, probably all about tea and crumpets or nailing transvestites. Now, in 2011, I'm going to give the people what they really want: pictures of birds. Enjoy!

White-rumped Swallow: Of course this guy has to come first.  A South American member of the cavity-nesting Tachycineta genus, this browed little fighter jet is the whole reason for our being here. Every adult acts differently when you are working with its nest. Some will give you some distance, perching some yards away. Others will go Red Barron and dive-bomb the shit out of you.  The male at box 98? He just sits and watches 5 feet away, making small-chirp while you work.  Unfortunately his nest has been predated twice in the past 2 weeks. Maybe he should have opted for dive-bombing…

Burrowing Owl: How lucky are we? Like a mosquito in a blood bank. Every morning we find this guy and his mate standing guard by their den no more than thirty feet from our trailer.  I’ve tried to get close to them, thinking they might stand and fight to protect their babies, but they are always keen to seek higher ground. Great parenting skills. Interesting/funny/gross fact about these guys: they will place pieces of dung around their dens to attract dung beetles for food. How's that for a fishing technique, Uncle Dick?

Rusty-collared Seedeater: This girl may not look like much, but anyone who has ever held, and therefore been bitten by, a cardinal knows that she can pack a punch. Think about it, for this little species to be able to open seeds must mean that it wields a formidable beak. Of course all efforts to capture said seedeaters have been fruitless (literally; they eat seeds, remember?), but hopefully once the net-guns come in we will have more success.

Chalk-browed Mockingbird: You may be familiar with this guy’s cousin, the Northern Mockingbird.  While they are separated by thousands of miles, the two species certainly share at least one thing in common: they are some territorial s.o.b’s. Almost every morning we are greeted by this guy flying into the tree above our trailer and harping at us to leave “his” space. We usually try to ignore him, but sometimes we decide to harp back at him, usually until he is so confused that he lets us have our space back (Phil, you know our pain).

Great Egret: You may recognize this guy, as he is common in the US. I’ll let you think of something to say here. Or maybe look something up and tell me what you find. I’ll be waiting…

Monk Parakeet: Before coming to Argentina, I was under the impression that monks would take vows of silence. Apparently these guys aren’t that devout. In singles or pairs, the squawking is bearable, a pleasing reminder that we are in South America, the motherland of birds. But in groups, nesting up in the power towers? Chaos. Wu Tang might bring the “mother-fuckin ruckus”, but they ain’t got shit on this crew.

Fork-tailed Flycatcher: Check out the tail on that mother! According to my sources (aka the internet) this species has the longest tail in relation to its body size of any bird in the world. Why would anyone want to have such a ridiculous ornament? The ladies dig it. Not only does it get their feathers ruffled, but it also proves to them that you are one healthy hunk. If you can fly around with that hindrance of a tail and not get eaten, you must be one hell of a bird.

Guira Cuckoo: Sweet do, dude! (Maybe tough to see here) This looks like the lead singer from the Sex Pistols got drunk in a pet store and had his way with the macaws. Usually we’ll see four or five of these guys flying form tree to tree, flashing their long tails behind them. That’s how you know it’s a Guira, by the long tail. That or the hair. Or the call. Or the fact that it looks like a Guira Cuckoo. But if you can’t go on any of those, go with the tail.

Rufous-collared Sparrow: I first saw this guy in Buenos Aires, sitting in a fruit tree next to an uproar of Monk Parakeets. In my haste, I labeled this guy a special find, drawn in by the beautiful stripes and rufous neck. Of course, if only I had stopped to think what it must mean for this bird is able to live in BA, maybe I wouldn’t have been so surprised when we began seeing these guys everywhere in Santa Fe. Still, they really are beautiful birds, and to get to see them so often is a special treat.

Southern Lapwing: Possibly the winner of the most annoying bird at the site. There’s alarm calling, and then there’s this guy. Any time we get close to a lapwing (by close I mean within 50 feet) it begins a spinning verbal assault on everything below. In case the other birds hadn’t noticed the two humans bumbling around in giant condoms, now they know.

Yellow-chinned Spinetail: Can you see the porcu-spines on this guy?  This aptly named passerine has become more and more common around the site.  We recently had a brood fledge on the eastern peninsula of Florida (see “Lay of the Land”). Every time we walk along that stretch, the family pops up from the tall grasses and plays what seems like a fearful game of tag, flying from snag to snag all the way down the peninsula.

Bare-faced Ibis: Of the three species of Ibis found at our site (others being White-faced and Green) this is by far the most common. We often find them perched on dead trees, as seen here, but they are more likely to be found pecking around in the mud for small crustaceans.

Chestnut-fronted Blackbird: You may be tempted to pass this guy over among the unicolored blackbirds and shining cowbirds, but don’t be so dumb. In South America a black bird is not just another black bird, proven here by this red-faced Icterid. These guys are fairly common around the site, but always a treat to see.

Ruddy Ground-dove: There are about a half-dozen Columbids (look it up) at our site, none of which was more difficult to identify than this guy (my binocs for good plates!), who is probably the least common of them all. He still has the characteristic dove look and head turns, giving you the impression that there may not be any wheels turning up in that tiny skull.

Wattled Jacana: Ever wanted to walk on water? (Well you shouldn’t! You ain’t Jesus!!) Maybe you should talk with this guy. His feet are so big (more like his toes are so long) that he can walk on the top of floating vegetation in search of invertebrates. It’s like having a pair of permanent snowshoes! (except, you know, using them on water and not snow)

Snail Kite: I never would have thought that a raptor could be so abundant. It must be the smorgasbord of apple snails, because there are always at least a dozen snail kites flying around the site. The orange talons and beak of this species are beautiful, especially contrasted against the dark body. I doubt that these tools are as necessary now as they were centuries or millennia ago, when they were hunting a prey that could actually escape, but why the hell would anything want to give up such sweet weapons? (note: the beak is actually great for ripping snails out of their shells; the curvature is perfect for really digging up in there to evict those gastropods from their homes).

Rufous Hornero: Here he is, Mr. Argentina, the national bird himself. These guys aren’t just all over our field site; they’re all over Santa Fe. In the parks, backyards, roads, buildings, shoes, children’s backpacks, sofa cushions. They’re everywhere. As boring as this may make the Hornero seem, one really must appreciate an evolutionary design that has allowed a species to dominate the landscape (just like the Rock Pigeon we all love so much). While it may not be as exciting a find as a Kirtland’s Warbler or Eastern Scrub-jay, they are none less the awesome, and very good singers, too.

Striated Heron (L) and Black-crowned Night-heron (R): How awesome is this! Two superb hunters in one shot! They may look like bumps on a log, but they are quite  attuned to the subtle splishes and splashes below them. Could they even work as a tandem? While one cannonballs into the shallows, sending small fish flying into the air, the other will swoop in to snag the fish out of the air. And if you can believe that, we also had a Dodo sighting the other week (I tried to get a picture, but he was too clever for me).

Red-crested Cardinal: What a beauty. One of two cardinal species at our site (the other being the Yellow-billed), the Red-crested Cardinal is always a pleasure to find. It may be the contrasting body, but the red head looks to be on fire, perhaps bolder than the North American Cardinal we are familiar with. If my cousin Frank rocked a Mohawk, I think he’d look like this guy.

Maguari Stork: I’ve saved the best for last.  This is probably my favorite bird at the site. It’s not often that we find these guys, and when we do it is usually for no more than a minute, so we take in the majesty while we can. These monsters can stand around 4 feet tall and have a sword of a beak. Forget about humans, this guy could carry a baby hippo home from the hospital! What a beast.

I hope this will slake your thirst for photo'd feather'd flyers, you ravenous bird lovers you. Now go watch the Heels stomp all over wisconsin.

Bird List 11/17/2011 - 11/30/2011

Things have definitely slowed down a bit in terms of new species. I am in desperate need of new ecosystems. I am not sure if I will be able to reach 200 before heading to Ushuaia (bottom tip of Argentina). However, I am sure that with a month in Ushuaia, and a possible week in Bariloche (mountains, western Argentina), I will easily reach my goal of 200 birds in Argentina.

1. Chilean Flamingo
2. Southern Screamer (though he didn't say shit)
3. Purple Gallinule
4. Large-billed Tern
5. Glittering-bellied Emerald (finally a hummingbird [identified {they're fast little buggers}])
6. Chequered Woodpecker
7. White-barred Piculet (aka #100)
8. Great Antshrike ("startling" red eye, like meeting your first albino)
9. Pearly-vented Tody-tryant (long name for a teeny bird)
10. Grey-breasted Martin
11. Yellowish Pipit
12. Sayaca Tanager (possibly the only tanager in this part of Argentina)
13. Solitary Cacique
14. Epaulet Oriole

99 + 14 = 113 total species.

Happy Thanksgiving!!

I would like to wish a Happy Thanksgiving to everyone back home, or abroad (though mostly back home). I hope everyone is plowing into course #3-7, or drifting off into a food coma, allowing your computer to slowly slide off your lap and into the plate of mashed potatoes at your feet.

Unfortunately we will not be joining in the usual festivities. While we are preparing something for special tonight, it will certainly not be turkey. We can't even find the sliced kind in the deli! So instead, we're cooking up something a little more appropriate considering our circumstances.

4 parts swallow + 1 part Sasquatch = Thanksgiving feast

Lay of the Land

Considering I've already referenced this post a couple of times before even writing it, I guess it is about time I get this online.


Our field site is adjacent to the Río Colastiné on the land of a local cattle farmer. While there is water around most of the boxes, some areas are more flooded than others. Just two days ago we loaned our oars to a group of bird surveyors who needed to cross the site. Fortunately Maya and I have our own pairs of waders, all the rage among the Argentine youth (did I mention Waterworld just hit theaters? lucky for me people keep mistaking me for Kevin Costner).

Our site is broken down into two main sections: Power Tower (left, to the west) and Florida (right, to the east). Power Tower is also comprised of three smaller sections: Trailer Park, Marsh, and Wild Wild West.

(FYI: all "maps" below are oriented North)

"Map" 1: Appropriately named for its ornamental power tower

"Map" 2: Appropriately named for its... penis shape?

Bear with me as I try to walk you through the sites.

Let's start with Florida. Here you will find two main peninsulas, each with a double-row of boxes. The first begins at box 18, runs to box 32, and then loops back from box 34 to 43. This forms two semi-parallel stretches of boxes connected by (in most parts) land in the middle. It has been blessed with a small oasis around boxes 28, 29, and 37, which is usually a must needed pit stop for applying a second coat of sunscreen. These boxes have become very active recently, and will hopefully stay productive during the second round of clutches.

Always a waterwalk to start the day at Florida. Notice box 42 on the right and box 20 well ahead on the left.

The Oasis: Doesn't look like much? Put on a few layers of trash bags and stand out in the sun for a while, then get back to me.

Hey looky there, more water! Anybody's boots need a refill? This is past the oasis, with box 30 up on your left.

A look across to the other peninsula (what do you mean you don't see it?). Standing at the oasis, looking at box 37.

Across from the first loop is a second "peninsula", though here you will find no actual dry land, merely scarce opportunities for your knees to stop holding their breaths. These boxes are less ordered, and are numbered from 41-56. The number 50 is missing, but don't worry because someone was kind enough to throw the number B in there to make up for it. These boxes are not so busy right now, unless you include wasps in your definition of busy. In that case, there's no room at the inn (note: We do not include wasps in our definition of busy). To the east of this second peninsula there is only water. The vegetation stops, and the mix of wading birds and reeds clears away for grebes and kiting kingfishers. Facing away from the city, this may be the most peaceful section of the site, and you can be sure what's going to fly over the top of the water.


In Between

Florida and Power Tower are separated by a stretch of deep water covered in reeds. This is a great place to see ibises and jacanas poking around and Snail Kites hunting, but just too deep and thick to work in.

The Great Unknown: It's just like the moon, or the deepest parts of the ocean; it's just, we don't really want to go in there.

Power Tower

"Map" 3: Power to the Tower

Power Tower makes up the western section of the site, closest to the town, and to all the action. The deepest section of water is in the middle, running between boxes 65, 66, and 87, and boxes 67 and 85 (note the river [not actually black]). Power Tower has dropped off since the first great die offs, but it's still busy. This may be the area with the highest concentrations of other birds, a fact which has often made itself known in our boxes. There is currently a cattle tyrant in 66, a saffron finch in 61, and a house wren in 82. There are also lots of jacanas and ibises picking around in the vegetation. The most unique thing about Power Tower? Look up: the towers themselves (block 1 and block 2 on "map" 3) are full of monk parakeet nests (We call that communal breeding).

Looking out along boxes 90-87. Spy anything in those towers?

Anyone order a pandemonium of parakeets? I wouldn't say it's quite as enjoyable as going to an A Cappella concert, but then again when does a Caracara fly in and carry away one of the altos for lunch?

Looking at box 64, heading towards the river, aka "the big plunge" (nah nobody really calls it that... yet...)

Wild Wild West

"Map" 4: We certainly are Loveless about this place

Just north of Power Tower is a small grouping of boxes dubbed Wild Wild West. To put it bluntly, they aren't worth shit. If you wanted to study House Wrens, by all means strap on your boots and head out to Wild Wild West. But for our purposes, they're useless. The one brood in this area died only a few days after I arrived. It may be that the area is too enclosed for swallows, or that the House Wrens just won't put up with anyone else in "their" boxes (House Wrens are known to poke holes in the eggs of other birds. Bunch of dicks if you ask me). But for birding purposes, Wild Wild West is great. There are usually woodcreepers and gnatcatchers aplenty, and if you look out the back end, between boxes I, J, and K, there is a small lagoon where you can typically find a few Black-crowned Night-herons fishin' away.

Trouble finding the boxes? That's because they're camouflaged! ...Maybe we should've re-thought that...

Marsh and Trailer Park

"Map" 5: Stan and Kenny (if anyone gets that please tell me)

In the western half of the Power Tower complex are two groups of boxes: Marsh and Trailer Park. While Marsh has been fairly productive in terms of swallow nests, Trailer Park doesn't seem to want to do any work (maybe that's why it's called Trailer Park).

Both sites have their own uniqueness about them. Both are good places to see herons, egrets, and other wading birds, and both have their own special guests living in the boxes. There's a resident bat in box 117 in Trailer Park, and there's a wonderful (sarcasm) critter wandering around Marsh who likes to eat our birds. We actually found two boxes in Marsh that were predated last night. Fortunately there are McDonald's in Argentina who are willing to sell
us some of their grease to slather on the poles.

Marsh: Boxes 105 (L) and 106 (R), home of the predator... (starring Maya Wilsonager and David Millone)

The really cool thing about Trailer Park is that most of the boxes are over water. Okay, so this isn't so cool when we're trying to measure chicks or catch adults, but fortunately land is not too far away, and some cool birds always seem to show up (e.g. Pied Water-tyrant, Striated Heron, Black-and-white Monjita).

Up close and personal with box 118. Boat rentals: $10/hr, we're open every day

There are plenty of cattle around our site. "El patron" who owns the site has over seventy cows and horses roaming all over the place. Usually we don't have a problem, except when they all decide to head to Marsh.

Horses in Marsh

Cows in Marsh

Of course we do our best to give these thousands of pounds of cheeseburgers their space, but the thing about Marsh is that once you follow the row from box 94 to box 101, there's only one way out: the way you came. Now let's say these Big Macs-to-be decide to block your one and only path out of the Marsh. You're just going to have to find another way around, and odds are you're not getting out of there dry, waders or no waders.


Let me give you a better idea of what I mean.




You see the bell on that guy? I don't think that thing's just for shits and jingles. I'm thinking that El Patron thought that whoever might be out on his land would benefit from knowing exactly where this guy is. Thank you, El Patron. Now bring me a boat. Needless to say, that was the day I topped my waders. If I find an easier way around, or if El Patron decides to start working for Chick-fil-a instead of Burger King, I'll let you know.



As I write this, rain continues to pour over the city, as it has done for the past 24 hours. Because there is no drainage system, six inches of water has collected on both sides of the streets; however, I have no doubt that the king of the land (aka the sun) will recall it all to the sky as water vapor twice as fast as it fell to earth as rain (simply a drawn out way to say it'll probably all evaporate by tomorrow). And while one might think that all this rain has me worried about the water level of our field site, I slightly expect the amount of water in the swamp to have decreased since our last visit. Fortunately, at least for today, I can relax knowing that the water levels at our site are influenced more by systems hundreds of miles away, flowing from Paraguay southern Brazil, and Iguazu, than by any local deluge. Therefore, I have no fear that my pictures of our site from this past week are out-dated, but if we find everything under water tomorrow, I will be sure to give you an update.

(And sure enough, one day later, the water levels had gone down)

This is just a tribue: #100

I'm officially halfway to my goal of 200 bird species in Argentina. Yesterday I tried to eek out my 100th species but came up one short. It didn't take long today. After finishing up our suck work (bugsuck that is) we headed down to the field site, but quickly stopped when we saw a small, striped bird pecking at a tree. "What is that? Hmmm, ummm, small bird, black and white horizontal stripes on the chest, small, errr... ummm... Get the book!" We vigorously thumbed through the passerines, but found nothing. "He was so little! And the way he was climbing the tree? It had to be a passerine. Hmmm... but wait, the way it was pecking, wasn't it almost woodpecker-esque?" We flipped through to the Picidae family and sure enough there he was, the White-barred Piculet.

 

Not my picture; thank you internet

The piculets belong to a subfamily, Picumninae within the woodpecker family, Picidae. They are almost exclusively found in South America, though there are a few species in Asia and one species in Africa. Piculets are similar to woodpeckers in that they have zygodactyl feet, which means they have two toes pointing forward and two toes pointing backwards (as opposed to anisodactyl feet in perching birds, which have 3 toes pointing forward and one toe pointing backwards). This is great for maneuvering up and down the sides of trees searching for insects.

Great, awesome, #100 was out of the way. The pressure was off. As we progressed through our brood cooling of box 64 (description to come [maybe] in a later post), the sun beat down harder and harder. We measured, banded, and bled the chicks from box 65, and as my clothes became drenched in sweat as I roasted inside my waders, I started becoming worried. I had #100, but what if I couldn't find anymore? Did I put so much pressure on that bird, whatever it was to be, that now I wouldn't get past it? What if I didn't see any new birds?

"Damn it's hot out here. Are we almost done? There aren't any birds around here. Ergh, ugh, LET'S HURRY UP!" As I headed to Florida (check Lay of the Land, probably still to come) my confidence seemed to sweat out of me with everything else.

I slogged my way through Florida, resting my things underneath the oasis around boxes 28, 29, and 37. I walked out to box 34 to find a new egg, which I marked and measured; fortunately that was the only real work to be done in Florida. I mucked back to the oasis, grabbed my things, and began to walk back to rejoin Maya in Power Tower. Then I heard it. Not that I knew what "it" was, but there "it" was, a long descending call note I had not heard before coming from a bird that had just flown in ahead of me. Could this be #101? I crept up slowly, not wanting to scare "it" away. From behind a shrubbery (Nii!) I saw it, a medium-sized passerine, very stripey, with some streaking on the breast. It was a pipit! My first ever, actually. I flipped to the Motacillidae family. Son of a b... they all look the same! Well that one isn't around here, that one's too streaky, it must be one of these two: either the Yellowish Pipit or the Chaco Pipit. To my chagrin I read the description of the Chaco Pipit, and I quote, "Indistinguishable in the field from the Yellowish Pipit."

What a kick to the gonads. I had gotten over the hump, found #101, and now I couldn't tell it apart from a mirror-image cousin. That's it, not only am I going to be stuck on 100 species, but these look-a-likes are going to taunt me all the while. Screw that noise, there must be a way to tell these guys apart. Wait a minute, that's it! Noise! What are their calls? I returned to the Pipit plates (after I had shoved my book back in my pocket in frustration). Sure enough; the Yellowish Pipit's call exactly matched what I had heard as it flew in, a long descending note. The Chaco Pipit?  Cliclicliclicliclilidlidlidlidlid; ERRR! I had my bird, the Yellowish Pipit.

That's the difference between a good birder and a great birder (disclaimer: I am not calling myself a great birder). Anybody can look at a bird and find it's picture in a book, but what about when two species look almost exactly the same? Or when you can't even see the bird in question, but only hear its call? A great birder has his/her/sexually neutral ears tuned in to the songs and can distinguish species by the music that they play. There's more to birding than just identifying a bird. When you come to fully know a bird, it's field marks, calls, behaviors, habitats, then you can honestly call yourself a birder.


[This adventure story has been brought to you by Birdman Dave, inc. All the excitement of Sherlock Holmes with the education of your high school biology class (don't kid yourselves, I know you were sleeping in that class anyways)]

99 problems but a bird ain't one

Here is my new bird list from 11/9/11-11/16/11, bringing my Argentina total to 99. Maya and I spent a few minutes spying around the local university this afternoon, which has a beautiful lago out back. We were able to pick up two new species of coot as well as the Wing-barred Seedeater, but we were unable to pick up #100. We are hoping to go back soon, preferably in the morning. There were signs for the Vermilion Flycatcher (which some of you may have seen in the American Southwest) and Great Antshrike. #100 will definitely have it's own tribute page.

1. Whistling Heron
2. Spotted Rail
3. Red-gartered Coot
4. White-winged Coot
5. White-tipped Dove
6. Ruddy Quail-dove (finally deciphered; my binoculars for good plates)
7. Narrow-billed Woodcreeper
8. Yellow-chinned Spinetail
9. Suiriri Flycatcher
10. Small-billed Elaenia
11. Spectacled Tyrant (check out this nerd)
12. White-winged Becard
13. Brown-chested Martin
14. Masked Yellowthroat
15. Double-collared Seedeater
16. Rusty-collared Seedeater
17. Black-capped Warbling-finch
18. Stripe-capped Sparrow
19. Grassland Sparrow
20. Shiny Cowbird
21. Screaming Cowbird

(Just for the record, and so she doesn't beat me with a stick, Maya is well over 100 species, though she did have a head start and a trip to Iguazu Falls to help her out.

A Day in the Life

There are no days off for a field intern in Golondrinas de las America. Even rainy days become data marathons, desperately trying to catchup for time lost in the field. The birds never take a day off, so why the hell should we? There is always work to be done! Eggs to measure, samples to collect, birds to catch; sleep when you're dead, that's the Golo motto!
(Okay, so we're not that strained. We certainly have time to relax and enjoy our unique settings. But it is true that there are no days off and certainly no weekends.)

Here's a basic run down of our day-to-day schedule:

Every morning our taxi driver, Ariel (who is replaced on weekends by either Gafas or Loco [nicknames, por supuesto]), picks us up at our apartamento around 7:45, from where he takes us to our field site, adjacent to Río Colastiné. We then walk the short, sandy path to our state of the art laboratory, complete with Bunsen burners, AC, and running water (aka portable stove, windows, and water cooler). No really, it's a nice trailer, with everything we need. If you look carefully you can see a cow skull hanging just to the right of the tree. Up until a week ago there was a house wren nest inside the skull, and every morning we were treated to the sites and sounds of mother and father wren taking foods to their youngins and chirping at us to back the hell up (these were done mostly, of course, by momma bird, but dad wasn't as lazy as other father birds are known to be).

Trailer sweet trailer

Our first protocol is to manage the two bug suckers set up nearby. White-rumped Swallows are almost exclusively insectivores, so understanding the insect density and biodiversity at the site is crucial. One sucker is located in an open field (pictured below) while the other is in a more forested area. Every day we replace vials of alcohol located inside the bugsuckers, into which unsuspecting, overflying insects are sucked in to meet their intoxicating doom. We take the vials from the day before back into the trailer where we mass the insects. We then put the insects into glass tubes to be sent back to Cornell, where hardworking undergraduates get to pick through thousands of tiny corpses.

Spaceship? Bug-ollo 13?

They go great with chocolate

After a brush/lathering of sunscreen and bug spray we are ready to head out into the field. There are occasional birding stops along the way, but we are generally able to complete this 100 meter walk in no more than 20 minutes, give or take 10 minutes (there's cool stuff to be seen! give us a break). There are five main groupings of boxes at the site (to be found in "Lay of the Land") which we typically divvy up based on what work needs to be done.

We have a number of protocols to complete while checking boxes, all of which depend on what stage in the nesting process the birds are in. In the beginning of the season, when the adults are just starting to build their nests, we check all the boxes to develop an understanding of which areas of the site are most popular among the swallows. We notate the stage of the nest in each box (4 digit code), and leave the swallows to carry out their business. An important characteristic of Tachycineta swallow nests is the use of feathers to insulate the nests. It is not uncommon to find a nest with over 100 feathers in it, but it is more common to find a nest with 10-50 feathers. Rarer to find are those nests with no feathers at all, but instead are lined with another type of insulation. This "other material" can range from
horse hair, in the case of this site, to toilet paper, which seemed to be a favorite among some Tree Swallows in British Columbia.

WTF are you serious? Step your game up

Not bad, padres

Next come the eggs. To put it bluntly, we make the Easter bunny hang his head and go home. The White-rumped Swallows at our site generally lay 4 or 5 eggs in a clutch. Every day we come to a box with a new egg we weigh the egg and  write a number on it. This number (1-5) helps us determine which eggs are hatching, so that when only 4 eggs hatch we will know if the dud egg was one of the first laid or one of the last. Some studies have found that early eggs are more likely to fail than later eggs because they sit unincubated, and therefore cold, for a longer time. We typically select 25 nests to be our focal nests, in which we perform extra protocols. These nests are equipped with 2 ibuttons: small devices that are able to record temperature. One ibutton is fitted inside the nest to measure the temperature of the eggs underneath momma's rump. The other is attached to the inside of the box to measure the ambient temperature of the box. We change out the ibuttons every few days, because even though they are smart little buggers, their memory eventually becomes reminiscent of your Grandma Petunia, who knows that bingo starts at 6, but that's about it.

Once the chicks start poppin, it's really go time. We follow the development of the chicks by measuring their head-bill, wing, and mass on the 3rd, 6th, 9th, and 12th days of their lives. On the 12th day we also take a venous blood sample, just to make things interesting when trying to get out of the country. We typically put our names in a hat and have our collaborator draw a name and then secretly stash the blood into that person's bag; a Russian roulette of sorts. Fortunately this one will only land you in a foreign prison.

Check out those measuring skillzz

Of course I'm kidding. One interesting thing about Tachycineta swallows is that they exhibit a high rate of extra-pair copulations (EPC). In other words, they are some adulterous little fuckers. Don't start picking sides, though. Both the males and females are out looking for action on the side. By collecting blood samples from both the offspring and parents, we are able to determine how many of the chicks in a specific brood are actually the offspring of the male raising them. Many males probably end up rearing chicks that are not their own, which is a high energetic cost for not passing on any of your genes. So what do the males do? They slack off. As the chicks develop, the female often finds herself working double time while the male hangs out on top of the box (of course this never happens in humans).

Maya bleeding an adult; check the bird band (R) and RFID (L), aka bling bling

Knowing this, we also study the feeding rates of the parents. Each focal box is equipped with a perch counter, which the adult sits on each time he/she enters and exits the box. Another step on the perch, another tally in the counter, allowing us to determine when the adults begin to wean their mooching offspring off their hard work. Maya is taking this even further, by attaching radio-frequency identification detectors (RFID's) around the entrance to each box and RFID tags on the legs of the parents. This will allow her to monitor the feeding rates of each sex as the chicks develop, specifically to determine when the males say "Eh, I'm sick of this whole dad thang."

After checking all the necessary boxes we head back to the trailer to strip off our waders, wring out our socks, and wait for Ariel to take us home. Every day is different, and of course there is a bit of birding thrown in; when in Ro... err... Argentina! We seem to spy a new species every day. It's quite a paradise we work in; it's hard to even call this work. Spending the day in this beautiful environment surrounded by such a vast array life is an easy reminder of how lucky I am to be here. I encourage everyone who reads this to go out and find that beauty for themselves.

And for those of you who don't know, or maybe are unconvinced, no matter the time or the place it is always a great day to go birding.

11/8/11 Bird List

Here is my current species list for Argentina. My book is a little outdated, so I apologize for any incorrect names. Shooting for 200 before I go to Chile, so I've got a long way to go.

1. Pied-billed Grebe
2. Great Grebe
3. Neotropical Cormorant
4. White-necked Heron
5. Great Egret
6. Snowy Egret
7. Striated Heron
8. Black-crowned Night-heron
9. Bare-faced Ibis
10. White-faced Ibis
11. Green Ibis (sorry Becky; don't trust the range maps)
12. Roseate Spoonbill
13. Maguari Stork
14. Silver Teal
15. Ringed Teal
16. Brazilian Duck
17. Osprey
18. Snail Kite (everywhere)
19. Roadside Hawk
20. Southern Caracara
21. Giant Wood-rail
22. Moorhen
23. Limpkin
24. Southern Lapwing (annoying, won't shut up)
25. Collared Plover
26. Wattled Jacana (also annoying, but less obnoxious than Lapwing)
27. Lesser Yellowlegs
28. Common Snipe
29. Yellow-billed Tern
30. Rock Dove
31. Picazuro Pigeon
32. Spot-winged Dove
33. Eared Dove
34. Picui Ground-dove
35. Black-hooded Parakeet
36. Monk Parakeet (most obnoxious, but funny to watch the Caracaras steal their babies)
37. Guira Cuckoo
38. Burrowing Owl
39. Scissor-tailed Nightjar (look up this bird)
40. Ringed Kingfisher (ballin like metta world peace)
41. Amazon Kingfisher (ballin like he wants to be metta world peace)
42. Green-barred Woodpecker
43. Scimitar-billed Woodcreeper
44. Rufous Hornero
45. Straight-billed Reedhaunter
46. Chotoy Spinetail
47. Greater Thornbird
48. Lark-like Brushrunner
49. Black-and-white Monjita
50. Pied Water-tyrant
51.Yellow-browed Tyrant
52. Cattle Tyrant
53. Sirystes (what did I say about those range maps?)
54. Great Kiskadee (alarm-calling sobs)
55. Tropical Kingbird
56. Fork-tailed Flycatcher
57. White-rumped Swallow
58. Bank Swallow
59. House Wren (note: will nest in cow skulls)
60. Masked Gnatcatcher (feisty mother-lovers)
61. Rufous-bellied Thrush
62. Creamy-bellied Thrush
63. Chalk-browed Mockingbird
64. European Starling (bastards everywhere)
65. Red-eyed Vireo
66. Rufous-browed Peppershrike
67. Greyish Saltator
68. Golden-billed Saltator
69. Red-crested Cardinal
70. Yellow-billed Cardinal
71. Great Pampa-finch (throw your hands in the air if youz a true... finch)
72. Saffron Finch
73. Black-and-rufous Warbling-finch
74. Rufous-collared Sparrow
75. Bay-winged Cowbird
76. Chestnut-capped Blackbird
77. Unicolored Blackbird
78. House Sparrow (where wouldn't you find these guys? oh yea, Antarctica)

Welcome to the Swamp

After two weeks of navigating the streets of Santa Fe, Argentina, I think I can say I've settled in. When I first arrived my field crew, Maya Wilson and Becky Windsor, was living with a local girl, Pia, and her family. However, a few days after I arrived we were forced to find a new place to stay so Pia's brother could move back in. After looking around, we decided to move into the only apartment we could find: a 3 bedroom place on San Lorenzo. Becky and Maya were worried at first, "We just found all the stores we need! Verduraria, supermercado, farmaceutico; now we have to find all new shops!" This turned out to be no problem, as our new place is in a bustling part of town, within sight of the stadium for the town's favorite soccer team, Union. Our house of six has dwindled to four.  Ariel, a Santa Fe native, defended his thesis last Monday and immediately moved out, and our good friend and wonderful biologist Becky left for Peru yesterday morning, where she will present at the Neotropical Ornithological Conference in Cuzco. Left are Maya and myself, Julie, a French study abroad student studying at the Argentine history local university, and Justin of Colorado, who is trying his hand at becoming a writer.

Maya, David, Becky = Stylin

Our field site is absolutely beautiful, adjacent to a large river that has flooded around our boxes. We have to wear waders to access most of the boxes, which actually provides us much needed relief form the heat. Whoa momma, it's getting hot up in here! January is supposed to be the hottest month in Argentina, in which case I am glad to be leaving in early December. The heat's going up like a D-Wade to Lebron OOOP!! (hope someone catches that). The site is full of all kinds of birds. Tons of water birds, such as herons, ducks, and ibises, monk parakeets, great kiskadees, and an abundance of snail kites. I never thought I could get sick of watching a raptor, but we easily see a dozen snail kites a day. Apple snail (their favorite food) shells litter the ground like leaves in autumn. There are a few other fun critters, like swamp rodents that often make their way into the boxes, chorus-like frogs, and plenty of insects. The mosquitoes have been terrible lately, but there seems to have been a massive hatching of dragonflies, who seem to be keeping the mosquito population in check.

It's a little wet out there.

Our study species is the White-rumped Swallow (Tachycineta leucorrhoa). They look a lot like the North American Tree Swallow (Tachycineta bicolor) that I worked with in British Columbia except for their white rumps and eyebrows. A couple of days before I arrived Maya and Becky experienced a high amount of chick mortality. A few days of bad weather (hmmm sounds like Canada) and nest predation eliminated most of our nests. I wish I could say that I brought good fortune with me, but the mortality didn't stop. We continued to find feeble chicks with no chance of survival. Long periods of rain suppress the insect populations, which is bad news bears for insectivores (and the eagles) (hope you got that one too). We have had good weather for the past few days, and a number of pairs are rebuilding and attempting second clutches. More bad weather is sure to come at some point, but it will all be about timing. If heavy rains come while we have eggs, there is a greater chance the clutches will survive than if they come while we have chicks. Unfortunately there is another villain to the story: the heat. If the temperature rises faster than the chicks can develop, we will lose chicks due to excessive heat in their boxes. We often found this to be the case in Davidson, where Dr. Stanback (shout out!) has been working with Tree Swallows. Many broods that were still developing in late July and August wound up overheating. Fingers crossed that won't be the case here!

White-rumped Swallow