I spent a few hours this morning birding around the Carnation area. Langlois
Lake was devoid of waterfowl apart from 3 bufflehead, and there were some
very distant Canada geese in the fields alongside Ne 32nd St. The big goose
find was in the fields opposite Nestle along Carnation Farm Rd - a huge
flock of Canadas and Cacklings, with a few greater white-fronts thrown in,
and one immature snow goose, mainly white now but still with the stripe of
grey over the head and down the back of the neck.



I headed over to 100th on the Harris's hunt, and found a nice mixed flock of
ducks in a flooded field on the south side of 100th alongside W Snoqualmie
Valley Rd. There was a single male Eurasian wigeon and a big group of
northern pintail, along with the more usual suspects. A few small flocks of
swans flew over, silently.



I spent an hour peering around brambles along road and slough and along the
lawnmower track before I found Zonotrichia of any persuasion. I finally
pinned down a large mixed flock of white and golden-crowneds, on the far
side of the slough and right where it bends away from the field accessed
from 100th. They were feeding among the reeds on the ground mainly, out of
sight, with a few popping up into the bushes now and then, and the whole
flock was making its way further away as I watched.



I circled back to the road and along the lawnmower track, and asked
permission at the house with the red and white striped barn and 'Hola
Bitchola' written on the side to walk the edge of the next field south along
the slough. They said the field wasn't theirs, but the owner wouldn't mind.
I made my way back to where I'd lost the flock, but I didn't pick them up
again.



Did I see the Harris's? The answer is that frustrating birder's 'maybe'.
There was a bird with a suspiciously brown face at one point, though I could
have wished it hadn't been sitting with a large bramble leaf obscuring its
throat and chest. When it moved, it was to fly down into the reeds, and I
lost it.



100th St must be a Washington hot spot for Lincoln's sparrows, though. There
were at least three of them feeling cooperative to be repeatedly and
unobstructedly viewed, so who knows how many more were doing the typical
skulk?



Louise Rutter

Kirkland