On Monday, May 8, Doug Willis and I teamed up for a Missouri Big Day  
attempt on the western side of the state. The following is a  
moderately long report ... for those not interested in aesthetics, we  
were able to nail down 174 species, including goodies such as a  
Merlin in Holt Co., a Swainson's Hawk northeast of Taberville Prairie  
CA, a Veery migrating over Taberville, and, of course, the White Ibis  
at Bob Brown CA. Here's the full report:

We approached this May Big Day attempt as a learning experience: It  
was Doug’s first Big Day ever, and my first serious attempt on the  
west side of the state. We were well aware that the route we chose  
(moving south to north, beginning around Four Rivers CA and ending  
around Squaw Creek NWR) has been well tested over time. But as we  
drove toward our starting point Sunday night, actually running that  
route and getting the numbers we hoped for still felt like a  
considerable challenge.

The forecast had called for cloudy skies with a chance of  
thunderstorms after 1 a.m. Looking up, we noticed that the skies were  
mostly clear with a 3/4-full moon overhead—but a bank of clouds  
loomed ominously to the south. Knowing those clouds would be moving  
our way, we decided to run our planned nighttime route backwards by  
starting at Taberville Prairie at Midnight. Hopefully we’d catch the  
prairie birds singing before the light of the moon was obscured by  
the clouds.

Immediately upon reaching the west side of Taberville, we were  
greeted by a chorus of Henslow’s Sparrows. The call of a Barred Owl  
floated up from one side of the hill, and a Northern Mockingbird  
serenaded us from the other side. A Yellow-breasted Chat chatted  
continuously in the dark. Our other hoped-for birds were, however,  
quite silent. We tore around to the opposite side of the prairie,  
watching the moon pace moodily in and out of the clouds. Dickcissels,  
Horned Larks, and a single Grasshopper Sparrow sang under the sound  
of the persistent Henslow’s Sparrows. Suddenly the air filled with  
the vocalizations from a flock of Swainson’s Thrushes passing  
overhead, and among them the distinct flight call of a Veery. At the  
same time, a pack of coyotes suddenly started singing all around us,  
and in this flurry of activity Doug distinctly heard the boom from a  
prairie chicken. We were in business…and it was time to move on.

We spent the next few hours wandering through Schell-Osage and Four  
Rivers conservation areas listening for rails, bitterns, night  
herons, and nightjars. A couple Whip-poor-wills sang from the ridges  
around Schell-Osage. A raucous flock of Black-crowned Night-Herons  
frolicked behind the Four Rivers headquarters. But at the wetlands— 
which had gone from total drought to flood conditions in the two  
weeks since I last scouted there—we were met with nothing but the  
unending clatter of frogs.

By 0400 we were headed southeast for the woods at the edge of the  
Ozarks where we would greet the sunrise. We stopped along the way to  
listen for our Chuck, but did not hear one until we reached our  
sunrise spot. As the sky lightened—now fully gray with clouds—we  
hiked into the woods and went to work on the warblers. Most of the  
residents—including Worm-eating Warbler and Hooded Warbler—were on  
territory. Scarlet Tanager proved to be an easy tick, with several  
individuals seen and heard. The other migrants were a little tougher:  
A silent Blackburnian Warbler crawled through the treetops, and a  
Chestnut-sided Warbler sang nearby.

After a couple hours, we checked the clock with horror and pushed,  
pulled, dragged ourselves out of the woods. A Golden-winged Warbler  
bee-buzz-buzzed near the car, and a Blue-winged Warbler sighed a  
little way down the road. Our stake-out Bewick’s Wren kept his  
appointment and hopped up in full view and full song right on cue. We  
started the trip back north and west, but were slowed by the song of  
a Mourning Warbler, among other essential resident species. Our only  
Blue Grosbeaks for the day caught our attention around 0900—just as  
it began to rain. And it continued to rain. Steadily.

This was not good. Our stake-out Yellow-throated Warbler was silent  
and invisible among the rain-splattered leaves. The Fish Crows that  
were supposed to be there had apparently melted in the rain. And  
there was no hope of a Mississippi Kite riding a morning thermal in  
this weather. We trudged back to Schell-Osage with a rather  
waterlogged attitude. The woods at Schell were filled with the song  
of our first Eastern Towhees for the day, but nothing else seemed to  
be moving. The drive down a dead-end road almost seemed wasted until  
a Broad-winged Hawk darted across the road and into the cover. This  
proved our only Broad-winged for the day.

We headed for the Yellow-crowned Night-Heron spot at Schell-Osage and  
spent some time peering through the rain at a distant growth on a  
tree that had me thoroughly convinced it was a sleeping night-heron.  
As we were about to give up and turn around, we spotted several  
Little Blue Herons (the only ones for the day) feeding in a slough  
with Great Egrets. We were pleased at this turn of events, but were  
even more pleased when two birds burst onto the scene: a Red- 
shouldered Hawk aggressively pursuing an adult Yellow-crowned Night- 
Heron.

Back at the main road at Schell, we paused and noticed the sky seemed  
to be clearing. At the same time, a Cooper’s Hawk chased a blackbird  
across the field in front of us. Our spirits began to lift but a look  
at the time—1000—told us we were sorely behind schedule. At this  
point, we chose to improvise our route and go toward Truman Lake via  
Hwy B, north of Taberville Prairie, to try several access points on  
the big lake for a late loon, a Prairie Warbler, or maybe even a  
Painted Bunting. It was probably not the best move from a time- 
management perspective, but it proved to be a fortuitous path to  
follow because Hwy B was very good to us. In short order, we found an  
Olive-sided Flycatcher perched on a utility line, a Swainson’s Hawk  
perched in a field, and a Western Meadowlark sang from a fence. Our  
last attempt at a Fish Crow only yielded a silent crow that promptly  
swooped down over the water and caught a fish… No, we did not count  
that one. But a Clay-colored Sparrow that hopped up into view seconds  
later made that detour worth our time. And yet another dead-end road  
produced our only Magnolia Warbler for the day.

At Noon we knew two things to be true: 1) We were running out of time  
and would need to cut some important stops from our itinerary; and 2)  
we didn’t have enough birds. Our list hovered right around 120, and  
it was difficult to imagine where the rest were going to come from if  
we were to meet our goal of 170 or more.

Aside from a brief and unsuccessful detour for a staked-out Eurasian  
Collared-Dove near Platte City, we careened straight north from  
Clinton until we reached Bob Brown CA at about 1530. On the Saturday  
prior to our Big Day, Kyle Driggers alerted me to the fact that the  
main distribution channel at the refuge had been drained of water—and  
had filled up with shorebirds. This and the other phenomenal habitat  
at the conservation area proved to be a major windfall for our day.  
After picking up some essentials on the boardwalk—including our first  
Eastern Phoebe and Downy Woodpecker for the day, plus a look at a  
Gray-cheeked Thrush and a pair of Blackpoll Warblers—we went to work  
on the marsh. While walking a levee hoping to flush a Virginia Rail,  
a flock of birds rose up in the distance. I picked out our first  
Gadwall and Lesser Yellowlegs for the day, and was trying to find  
more in the flock when Doug said urgently, “Kristi, look!” I lowered  
my binoculars and my eyes immediately fell on a ridiculous white bird  
flying along behind the ducks and shorebirds: an adult White Ibis,  
listed as casual in northern Missouri and a state bird for me. This  
jumpstarted our ambitions and we were off: Sora and a Common Moorhen  
vocalized over the sound of the car as we bombed over to the  
distribution channel where we picked up 16 typical shorebirds species  
in short order. Sedge and Marsh Wrens, Great-tailed Grackles, and  
Yellow-headed Blackbirds chattered while we mopped up the last bits  
of shorebird goodness, plus a fly-over American Pipit.

We now had about an hour and a half of daylight left. We were still  
hurting badly for waterfowl, and the promise of Squaw Creek NWR only  
15 minutes away. That was not nearly enough time to do the refuge  
justice—it’s an insult, really—but it was all we had to work with. We  
tried to fill a major hole in our list—Purple Martin—but came up  
short each time with gangs of House Sparrows holding all the martin  
houses in the area hostage. In fact, it was for a potential martin  
that we turned around half way to Squaw Creek, and that is when we  
spotted a completely unexpected taiga-race Merlin soaring over the  
loess bluffs. It was a reasonable compromise.

At Squaw Creek, we managed to add some of the waterfowl that we  
needed: Snow Geese were still grazing on the levees, plus a single  
Green-winged Teal and one Northern Pintail were welcome additions.  
Ring-necked Duck was the only diver left that we could find. In the  
sweet light of the setting sun, we pulled out one dark ibis from Snow  
Goose Pool, and several Caspian Terns croaked while patrolling the  
marsh. In the north woods, we just knew we could nail down the  
American Redstart that we were still missing, and indeed we were  
successful. Some Snowy Egrets had put themselves to bed with a flock  
of Great Egrets. Our last stop was at the cattails where a Least  
Bittern was still faithfully vocalizing from the same spot where I  
heard him a week before.

Back at the Squaw Creek headquarters, we soaked in the warmth of a  
beautiful evening at watched the sky fade to black over the marsh.  
Between snippets of conversation and laments about missed species  
(how do you miss Purple Martin and Hairy Woodpecker? and where were  
all the Yellow-billed Cuckoos and Bell’s Vireos?), Doug tallied up  
the list and counted it silently. When he finished, he looked  
dumbfounded. “What did we do?” I asked. “173,” he replied. We were  
both shocked. After a fairly routine morning and the inconvenient  
rainout during the important mid-morning hours, we had both privately  
assumed that we would end up somewhere around 150. But 173… That was  
definitely a number we could live with!

We celebrated for a while in the gloaming as the Chipping Sparrows  
and Gray Catbirds sang themselves to sleep. Finally, we decided to  
give Bob Brown one more shot before heading home toward Kansas City.  
Back at the marsh at 2100, two Virginia Rails exuberantly vocalized  
nearby, which brought our total to 174. Our day officially ended back  
in Liberty at 2352 after driving 512 miles. Our May 2007 Big Day  
attempt unofficially began on the way home as we already started  
tweaking our route and discussing what we did right and what we did  
wrong.

Finally back at home, a phantom American Robin was singing in every  
room of my house and when I closed my eyes for the first time in 43  
hours, chorus frogs lulled me into a dreamless sleep.

Kristi Mayo
Kearney MO (Clay Co.)
[log in to unmask]

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