I don’t get out much to chase rare birds these days – the distance I’m willing to drive to see one has shrunk considerably since my carefree childless days - but every once in a while, the rarity du jour is too convenient to ignore. Such was the case last Wednesday when birding power couple Fran and David Clapp found a confiding little Townsend’s Solitaire across the street from my office at Wellfleet Bay sanctuary in South Wellfleet.
In fact, this rare bird is so convenient it’s been perching on the roof of an actual convenience store. Well sort of, it’s the Billingsgate Market on Rt 6, which is closed for the season. Behind the market, at the entrance to a campground, are a variety of fruiting woody plants that have been hosting a small group of robins for a week – cedars, bittersweet, privet, Euonymus shrubs, and multiflora rose.
The day the solitaire was found I got messages from several people about it – the problem was that, instead of at my desk across the street, I was off Cape with the family, so the chase would have to wait. By the time I stopped by to look for it a couple of days later, most other birders had already seen it, so I was alone. Other people are fine and all, in small doses, but sometimes its better to have a bird to yourself. I found it perching quietly in some bare trees, but too distant and backlit for photos. So I stayed and watched quietly, and eventually it revealed its feeding pattern. I positioned myself near some low shrubs it had visited and waited.
After just a minute or two it flew in and landed within maybe 15 feet, an intimate distance for any interaction with a wild creature. I moved as little as possible, firing off some shots with my camera, but it became clear that this charming little creature was not worried about me. It was feeding on the bluish fruits of one of several planted juniper shrubs, something it would be doing in its winter range in the rockies.
In the lower 48, these birds mostly just migrate downslope in winter, from high elevations to lower ones, and spend the winter feeding on juniper berries. They apparently violently defend their juniper patches from others, with adults dominating young birds, and those with bigger, fruitier juniper patches have demonstrably higher survival. This Wellfleet bird really went out of its way to avoid competition – it put 1500 miles between itself and the nearest solitaire. I suspect this bird came from the more migratory populations in northern Canada and Alaska, where aiming the wrong way by several degrees means the difference between Mexico and Massachusetts
When it comes to looks, Townsend’s Solitaires excel at being gray. They’re thrushes, close relatives of bluebirds, and sort of look like a bluebird that lost its blue. A bold white eye ring and a subtle flash of buff in the wing are all that interrupt the grayness. But we birders find them beautiful, and their song is fantastic, and hearing one on a summer hike out west produces a rocky mountain high that would make John Denver jealous.
This bird is named for prolific 19th century naturalist John Kirk Townsend, who collected the first specimens of a number of birds and mammals new to European science. The movement to do away with honorific bird names is underway, and though he came from a solidly abolitionist and philanthropic family, his unfortunate habit of stealing Native American skulls from graves should ensure that the Townsend’s Solitaire will be getting a new name sooner than later.
Truth is, I already devoted an entire bird report to Townsend’s Solitaires earlier in the winter, when one was briefly seen in Wellfleet and another in P’town. But I’ll bet you don’t even remember. I bet I could do three more birds reports on them this year and no one would notice. Tune in next week to see if I test that theory. In the meantime, I’ll let you get back to the solitaire you are playing while you wait for the power to come back on.
