Hello birders, twitchers, twitchy birders, bitchy twirlers, and anyone pining for 90-degree temperatures in March. I spent my spring break (mid March) driving around Texas looking for birds – a successful trip that yielded 121 species and 7 lifers. Here are some highlights of the five-day, three-stop road trip.
CORPUS CHRISTI
I left home (Fort Worth) early morning and drove six hours to this Central Gulf Coast city nicknamed “The Birdiest City in America.” Outside of migration season, the area’s biggest birding attraction is usually Aransas NWR, the wintering home for nearly every whooping crane in existence.
Whooping cranes – the endangered cousins of the abundant sandhill cranes – are the USA’s tallest birds (5 feet). After decades of habitat loss and hunting, their numbers dwindled to about 15-25 in the 1930s. Bringing them to their current count of 450-550 (plus more than 100 in captivity) required every weapon in the conservation arsenal, including the Migratory Bird Treaty Act of 1916, the Endangered Species Act, the establishment of Aransas NWR as well as a Canadian national park on their summering grounds, and decades of hit-or-miss breeding, fostering, and reintroduction programs.
Although lucky birders may find them in several locations between Corpus Christi and the barrier islands that border Aransas Bay, the only way to guarantee this addition to your life list is via organized boat tours. Rockport Birding and Kayak Adventures runs a highly rated three-hour tour of ANWR on a comfortable (and bathroom-equipped) catamaran – so off I went.
We saw about seven cranes on the tour:
I also saw 36 other bird species, including. . .
Why did I say that the cranes are usually the area’s top attraction? Because, since November, they have taken a back seat to the most unlikely vagrant to hit the Lower 48 in a long time. A cattle tyrant is a South American kingbird-like flycatcher that feeds mostly on the ground. Prior to November, it had never been seen north of Panama. But incredibly, one showed up in downtown Corpus Christi late last year, and has been seen on most days since, either feeding around dumpers in the heart of the downtown commercial district or, less often, in the patches of grass decorating a nearby marina. No one knows how this non-migrant got there. Perhaps it stowed away on a cargo ship?
I had only small fragments of two days to look for the bird, so I needed to get lucky. I whiffed entirely on the first day, on which – according to eBird – no one managed to find it. The next day was the boat tour, after which I raced back to the marina where someone had reported it that morning in a patch of grass in front of a restaurant. After a tyrant-less hour, I needed to have lunch and then hit the road. I had picnic fixings waiting in the car – but, so as to hold onto hope a little longer, I decided to eat at the pricey restaurant in front of which it was last seen. I was seated on the second floor with a picture window facing the grass. I wanted to settle in and enjoy the meal – but I kept getting up and looking out the window. Sometime after I ordered, I walked over to the window and saw a little yellow dot that looked like a kingbird. I grabbed my camera, raced downstairs and out the door, and found the main attraction catching insects in the grass.
This single bird has brought joy to hundreds of birders from all over the world. However, its future is uncertain. A few weeks ago, observers noticed that one leg appeared to be injured. Over the next few days, it seemed increasingly lethargic and its range constricted to the dumpsters outside a single restaurant. After disappearing for a week, it just resurfaced on Friday and seems to be eating well. But it’s probably not a good idea to plan a trip around it.
LOWER RIO GRANDE VALLEY
After that successful chase, I headed to my main destination: the sprawling, border-hugging agglomeration of nine metropolitan areas known as the Lower Rio Grande Valley (RGV), home to 1.3 million people and an astounding number of sought-after bird species. Less than 3 degrees of latitude north of the Tropic of Cancer — and well south of Mexican border cities like Tijuana and Juarez — it is the northernmost tip, and only U.S. residence, of many Mexican and Central American species.
It also has several rare vagrants at any given time, ensuring that repeat visitors are never bored. Having already seen the low-hanging fruit on my first RGV trip two years ago, my best hope for lifers was to chase some of this winter’s bumper crop of rarities. However, spending a whole afternoon in an unsuccessful quest for a single bird should be done sparingly on a short trip — so I tried to strike a balance.
First up was a site I had never visited that was hosting several rarities: Resaca de la Palma State Park in Brownsville. The highlight of this winter was Texas’ first-ever gray-collared becard, an elusive warbler-like canopy dweller that lives in southern Mexico and northern Central America. After whiffing on it with about a dozen other birders in the morning, I went back to the trail after lunch and found it on my own.
I also saw a tropical parula — which is technically a rarity, but several could be found across the RGV this winter — and an out-of-range western tanager. I spent the rest of the afternoon at a nearby cemetery completely whiffing on a hermit warbler. That was enough rarity chasing for me.
For the second and final full day, I chose to visit my two favorite sites: Santa Ana NWR and the National Butterfly Center. Santa Ana, a gorgeous, pond-laden thorn-scrub habitat near the Rio Grande, hosts free guided bird walks six days a week, with species counts typically in the 60s. The NBC, with property stretching all the way to the river bank, is known for its fabulous bird-feeding stations (and of course its butterflies). It’s also known for getting caught in the middle of the border wars. While the employees seem to have a good relationship with the U.S. Border Patrol, they have no patience for Gov. Greg Abbott and his thugs. The Center was even shut down for a while in 2022 because of threats by vigilantes and wacko conspiracy theorists.
Highlights included many South Texas specialties:
The day actually turned into an oriole bonanza. I got this lifer Audubon’s, an infrequent visitor to the RGV that is found only in Texas and Mexico:
A hybrid Altamira and Audubon’s:
And another lifer, this hooded oriole.
In addition to the RGV specialties, I saw lots of other Texas/Southwest birds:
After swearing off chasing, I got word that a slightly-out-of-range elf owl had been seen the previous evening at Bentsen-Rio Grande Valley State Park. So I left a happy hour (sponsored by local celebrity Tiffany Kersten’s tour company) early to camp out in front a telephone poll with about 30 other birders. Did I get a pic? Oh, you bet I did!
You can cancel the Audubon photo competition this year — we have a winner! That was actually a phone pic, because I was afraid that if I tried to focus my dSLR on the dark and distant hole, I might miss seeing this lifer altogether while it briefly poked its head out. So I snapped that long exposure while looking in my binoculars — and behold, I have seen an elf owl. Trust me.
HILL COUNTRY
To break up the eight-hour drive home, I spent a night in the Hill Country town of Fredericksburg. While the German-themed resort town is known for its shops and wineries, the highlight for outdoors folks is the nearby Enchanted Rock State Natural Area, a gigantic pink-granite dome that rises out of the juniper-covered hills.
Hiking up the rock and walking its surrounding trails gave me a chance to see a few more birds I can’t see at home:
Elsewhere in the Hill Country, I managed a ~5 second look at a golden-cheeked warbler — Texas’ most endangered (and controversial) bird — but my camera was packed away because of the rain. Meanwhile back at home, I’m facing the usual conundrum of peak migration falling during the busiest part of the academic semester. But my yard is really popping with migrants this year! I’ll say more and post some pics in a comment next week.
Thanks for reading! Let’s hear about your week in birding.