THE SHOREBIRDS ARE BACK

In fact, southbound migratory shorebirds have been back in the Pacific Northwest since the last week of June, but it is timely to write about them, as they are probably at their peak at the beginning of September.

The adults come back as soon as their young fledge, but of course some nests fail, and those adults are the first to return. Why stay in the Arctic, with all those mosquitoes and arctic foxes, when where you really should be is on a mud flat in Grays Harbor or a sandy beach in Sinaloa? Some of them are going farther, well into South America, so they had better get an early start for that long flight.

In quite a few shorebird species, one sex deserts the other adult and the offspring soon after the eggs hatch. The majority of these are females, presumably because females have expended much energy producing the eggs, so to balance parental investment, the males are left to raise the young. Most shorebirds don’t feed their young, so raising young shorebirds consists of shepherding them around to feeding sites and warning them about potential predators. It’s still a lot of work (imagine keeping track of four kids when you can’t see them much of the time).

Perhaps because they are big enough to potentially ward off predators, large shorebirds such as curlews and godwits divide parental responsibility, and the sexes migrate together. This is also true of most plovers. But the first Western Sandpipers you see in fall are probably those that failed at nesting, then a large wave of females that have left their families, then the males.

Many of these species undergo body molt while they are migrating, so in the fall we see birds in breeding plumage, in nonbreeding plumage, and at all stages in between. In addition, another plumage complicates the issue. These are the juveniles, young of the year that migrate after the adults. The peaks of their migration are often about a month apart, so in some species that continue south after passing through our region, we see a lot of adults and then a lot of juveniles, but not much mixing.

When trying to identify unknown shorebirds, it is extremely important to place them in a plumage, or at least an age stage. In fall, the adults have very worn body feathers until they are all replaced, and many of them don’t replace all their feathers until some time in the winter. Of the flight feathers, both the primaries and the tertials (the feathers of the inner wing that cover the primaries when the wing is folded) become very worn, and that wear is easily seen. Juveniles, on the other hand, have neat unworn feathers, including the primaries and tertials.

Get out to the coast and savor the shorebirds. You can easily see one to two dozen species on a good day, and identification is much facilitated because they are often in mixed-species flocks.

Dennis Paulson

IT’S SHOREBIRD TIME AGAIN

Every year in April and May the Pacific Northwest experiences a mad rush of thousands and thousands of shorebirds—sandpipers and plovers—on their way north to their Arctic and Subarctic nesting grounds.

This is nowhere more obvious than around two big coastal estuaries, Grays Harbor and Willapa Bay. These estuaries are extremely productive of the invertebrates that the shorebirds eat. Prey animals are present at very high densities in the mud and sand of these estuaries, for example about 10,000/square meter at Bottle Beach, on the south side of Grays Harbor, one of the most productive areas.

This seems astronomical but pales in comparison with 100,000 individuals/square meter of one species of amphipod in the Bay of Fundy. Nevertheless, it is sufficient density to support the tens of thousands of shorebirds that visit the area for up to a month each spring. Individual birds stay only a few days, fattening up for a flight that may be only 200 kilometers to Roberts Bank in British Columbia or as much as 900 kilometers to the Copper River delta in Alaska, then on to arctic breeding grounds.

The invertebrates that fuel these birds are primarily amphipods and polychaete worms. The amphipods are about 5-6 mm long, and some of the polychaetes are in the same size range. Other polychaetes are called “thin worms,” up to 30 cm long but only 1 mm in diameter! They can be in such high densities as to almost bind the mud together.

The three most abundant species in spring migration are Western Sandpiper, Dunlin, and Short-billed Dowitcher, in descending order. Most of the big flocks you see will include these species. There are many other species present as well, and searching them out gives the observer variety as well as spectacle. Other common species include Black-bellied and Semipalmated Plovers, Greater Yellowlegs, Whimbrel, Marbled Godwit, Ruddy Turnstone, Red Knot, Sanderling, and Least Sandpiper, with numerous others even less common but out there somewhere.

No migration is evident at the beginning of April, but by the middle of the month, Greater Yellowlegs and Short-billed Dowitchers have arrived in numbers. During the last two weeks of the month, all the species move in, most of them in full breeding plumage, and peak right around the first of May. Numbers fall off after that but are still impressive through mid May, and some of the later migrants are present until the end of that month. Species that peak late include Red Knots and Long-billed Dowitchers.

Herb Wilson of Colby College, Maine, found that these hordes of shorebirds had little effect on the invertebrates on which they fed. He erected “exclusion cages” at Bottle Beach, meter-square cages that kept shorebirds out, and after the migration compared the numbers of invertebrates under each cage with the original numbers there and the numbers just outside. He found no fewer invertebrates outside than inside; thus the numbers had not been reduced by the birds.

The spectacle can be seen in feeding areas at lower tides and at roosts at higher tides. The ocean beach itself has throngs of shorebirds on peak migration days, but it is discouraging to see the high levels of human activities (joggers, horseback riders, dog runners, mopeds, pickup trucks) that disturb each flock again and again on a busy weekend day. The birds get back to feeding immediately after each disturbance, and we can only hope that they are able to take in enough nourishment to make it to their next destination on time.

Dennis Paulson

FLOCKING BIRDS

A question that is often asked is why birds flock. And why do some of them form mixed flocks?

It is certain that birds flock for evolutionarily sound reasons:  to avoid predation and to find and capture prey.

By flocking, birds have a better chance to avoid predators than when they are by themselves. First, with more birds together, there is a higher level of alertness, as individuals are likely to be looking in different directions, and not all of them will have their heads down at the same time. In fact, it has been found that birds spend more time feeding and less time looking around when in flocks. Some shorebirds that feed by constantly probing the substrate, for example godwits, may flock with other species that forage with heads up, for example curlews, for the added vigilance.

Second, when birds fly in flocks, they make it more difficult for aerial predators such as falcons to catch them, because the falcon has to concentrate on a single bird, while a group promotes confusion. Furthermore, a bird in a flock of 20 has only a one in 20 chance of being caught, whereas a bird by itself has a statistically more serious problem. When a Bald Eagle flies over a flock of coots, they scatter in all directions.

Third, birds in flocks can actually intimidate predators. Starlings form a swirling superentity and dive on any hawk that approaches them; the tactic works quite well.

There are other advantages. Birds may discover food by associating in groups. Vultures and gulls roost in flocks, then spread out to feed while keeping a distant eye on one another. A vulture that drops to the ground is at the center of a contracting circle of birds heading in its direction. Gulls and terns have been attracted from boats by a handkerchief thrown in the air, simulating a bird dropping to the water.

Birds may also flock to capture prey more effectively. Pelicans in a line drive fish in front of them. Auklets surround a herring school and control its movements just as border collies herd a flock of sheep (why don’t falcons do this with shorebirds?).

Presumably birds form mixed-species flocks for the same reasons. If a flock of 100 is more effective than one half its size, then it makes sense for 50 blackbirds and 50 starlings to forage and fly together. For the most part, birds of similar size and habits flock together, so you’re unlikely to see a mixed flock of murres and juncos.

One of the most commonly seen mixed flocks is a winter feeding flock. In this area, it usually contains chickadees of one or more species, often Red-breasted Nuthatches, and sometimes Golden-crowned and/or Ruby-crowned Kinglets. The flock may be joined by a Downy Woodpecker or Brown Creeper or Townsend’s Warbler or Hutton’s Vireo. By moving through the woods together, these birds may help one another spot particularly good feeding areas, and they are surely more alert to predators as a group than if they were foraging individually.

I wonder if it’s possible to explain any of our own social behavior by this reasoning. Or can we explain bird behavior by what we know of our own? Perhaps some birds flock just to check out members of the opposite sex for the next breeding season.

Dennis Paulson

SHOREBIRDS ON THE MOVE

Every spring, about the beginning of April, flocks of shorebirds begin their annual migration up the Pacific coast on their way to Alaska and other points north. Sandpipers and plovers by the tens of thousands use the coastline as a pathway to their summer homes, feeding on the abundant populations of marine invertebrates and depositing fat to fuel their long-distance flights to their breeding grounds. Some birds leave the Washington coast and fly directly across the Gulf of Alaska to southern Alaska, where they stop at estuaries such as the Copper River Delta.

The most common species are Western Sandpipers, Dunlins, and Short-billed Dowitchers, in that order. At the same beaches, mudflats, and tidal pools are smaller but still substantial numbers of Black-bellied and Semipalmated Plovers, Greater Yellowlegs, Whimbrels, Marbled Godwits, Ruddy Turnstones, Red Knots, Sanderlings, Least Sandpipers, and Long-billed Dowitchers. At the same time, Black Turnstones, Surfbirds, and Wandering Tattlers feed along rocky shores as they move north, and Red-necked and Red Phalarope flocks settle on the ocean offshore.

These birds take advantage of a spring flush of invertebrate growth and recruitment, and they find no lack of goodies to help them put on weight. Amphipod crustaceans, polychaete worms, and small bivalves are among the most abundant fauna in birds that feed on and in sand and mud. These animals are so abundant that just about all the shorebird species using the area feed on them. Barnacles, mussels, and snails are staples of the rock shorebirds, and planktonic crustaceans fill the bellies of phalaropes.

Shorebird migration peaks on the Washington coast in the last week of April and first week of May, when the maximum number of species and individuals are present. Grays Harbor and Willapa Bay and the beaches adjacent to them always support the largest numbers, and the abundance of these birds provides a stirring spectacle every spring. Concentrations of some species in Grays Harbor are the highest south of Alaska.

And there is a Grays Harbor Shorebird Festival every spring to enjoy these concentrations: http://www.shorebirdfestival.com/.

Unfortunately, shorebird numbers have been declining, so the spectacle gets a little less spectacular every year. More importantly, we don’t have a good handle on the cause of the decline. Presumably it relates to loss of habitat on either the wintering grounds or at migration stopovers, as the arctic and subarctic breeding habitats are still relatively intact.

It’s also possible that anthropogenic changes are reducing the abundance of shorebird prey, another factor that we don’t know much about on a grand scale. There are still lots of shorebirds, so we have some time to work out an effective conservation plan, and there is such a plan for the U.S. (http://www.fws.gov/shorebirdplan/).

Dennis Paulson

a day at the coast

Hello, all.

This is the first post from the Slater Museum of Natural History at the University of Puget Sound in Tacoma, Washington, USA.

These posts will be varied, but the theme is Northwest nature, information about natural ecosystems of the Pacific Northwest and their plants and animals. We encourage anyone with interest in this subject to join the blog and contribute to it. We also encourage civility and respect for the opinion of others. As most of our material will consist of facts rather than opinions, that should be easy!

I'm writing about a trip to the outer coast of Washington on 30 August 2009. Netta Smith and I wanted to get out of the house and see how the coastal bird migration was faring. It turned out there wasn't much migration going on, at least at most of the places we visited. We drove to Westport first, all the way at the end of the road around the marina to check out the breadth of Grays Harbor with our spotting scope. Out in the middle there were vast flocks of birds, underscoring the value of coastal estuaries for marine life. There must be a lot of prey out there to support hundreds, maybe thousands, of Brown Pelicans, Double-crested Cormorants, California and Heermann's Gulls, and Common Murres, all fish-eaters. There were also smaller numbers of Western Gulls, Pigeon Guillemots, and Rhinoceros Auklets on the relatively calm waters of the harbor. Heavy cloud cover made for gray sky and water, but visibility was good.

Small numbers of Brandt's and Pelagic Cormorants were roosting on channel markers and rock jetties, perhaps the beginning of the large numbers that arrive from the south each fall. No ducks, loons, or grebes were seen; they are yet to come. The only shorebird present was a welcome one, a juvenile Wandering Tattler (PHOTO) that probed among the rockweed. This bird is a far-journeying species that breeds in the Alaska mountains and winters on islands of the South Pacific, north to Hawaii and California. They pass along the Washington coast in small numbers every spring and fall, enhancing the sound of the ocean breaking on rocky shores with their loud, ringing calls.

Below us on the same rocks were scattered ochre seastars (Pisaster ochraceus), one of the dominant intertidal invertebrates in Pacific Northwest coastal waters. This is a polymorphic species, occurring in orange and purple morphs. We noted that the orange ones were very conspicuous, even below the water, but we didn't see the purple ones until the waves receded, exposing them, and even then we had to look quickly, as they blended with the rocks and algae. Why is the species polymorphic? Why are the purple ones more common here, when the orange ones are more common in Puget Sound? Does it have anything to do with their conspicuous to potential predators? One thing that Mother Nature bestows on us is a never-ending series of master's and doctor's research topics!

We headed for the ocean beach south of Westport. In some areas, driving on the beach is permitted, and that's a great way to see birds. Unfortunately, as our population has increased, too many of us are doing this now. We were shocked to see how many people were scattered along the beach. There were no shorebirds (sandpipers and plovers) at all, but there were roosts of hundreds of gulls of three species (Western [PHOTO], California, Heermann's) all along. As we would approach one of these roosts to try to get some photos and check for rare species, more times than not one or more people would walk right up to the birds, scaring them away. More often, a frolicking dog or two would do the same, and it was obvious that the resting gulls were irresistible to people and dogs alike. "Oh boy, let's go scare up those birds." If this was an opinion blog, I would relate in no uncertain terms what I thought of those people! Sharing the beach is great, but this wasn't sharing. Imagine just sitting down on your favorite couch to relax and digest your dinner, and someone comes running through the living room and says "up, up, up," so you walk around the house three times and then sit down again. Within a minute or two the pest comes again, and the scene is repeated. Some of the flocks were disturbed so often that I wondered, not for the first time, how birds and other wildlife will manage in the long run to coexist with our own species.

After this frustrating experience at several beach-access points, we motored down to Tokeland to look for the large roosting flock of Marbled Godwits and other shorebirds that are often present at the marina. Perhaps for the first time ever, there was not a single bird present. Other birders who we encountered had seen none of them earlier in the morning, and we arrived right around high tide, when the birds should have been roosting. But it was a low high tide, with plenty of mud flats in Willapa Bay still exposed, and why roost when you can feed? Shorebirds in migration feed until they are stuffed, laying down fat deposits all over their bodies, and after a few days of this, taking off on the next stage of their flight, often hundreds or even thousands of miles. They can burn their fat for "food" as they fly, and the longer they fly, the lighter they get!

Shorebirds are the world's best optimizers when it comes to feeding. A sandpiper's bill may actually be probing the substrate as it is coming to a landing, and they never stop probing, as long as there is a bit of room in their stomach. Many species have sensitive nerve bundles called Herbst corpuscles in little pits on their bill tip, and they can feel the wiggle of a worm or the curve of a snail as they probe the sand or mud.

Our final stop of the day was at Bottle Beach State Park on the south side of Grays Harbor, and that's where the migrants were. Flocks of hundreds of Western Sandpipers flew to newly exposed mud flats as the tide receded, and scattered among them were Semipalmated and Black-bellied Plovers, Whimbrels, Greater Yellowlegs, and other species. The sun never came out this day, but there were just enough birds that we headed home with a sense of accomplishment. Of course the birds were the ones accomplishing.

Dennis Paulson