Hey tweets, The final count of species for the Fill last year, as best
as I can tell, is 157 species, of which I saw 146 myself. Considering
that the Fill (aka UBNA) occupies only about 100 acres, and it's in the
heart of the biggest city in the state, that's remarkable. It's even
more remarkable when you realize the Fill has no saltwater habitat,
almost nonexistent conifers, and no dense forest.

It makes me suspect that if other urban "islands" were birded as
thoroughly as the Fill - especially the parks on saltwater, such as
Discovery - we would be constantly surprised and amazed.

Now it's on to 2009 and all the wonders the new year will bring.

John and I started off 2009 in typical fashion, trying our hardest not
to see a crow, starling, robin, or pigeon as the First Bird of the
Year. Not that I have anything against crows, starlings, robins, or
pigeons. I pride myself on being an equal-opportunity birder.
Nevertheless, it's nice to set a tone for the year that's somewhat more
exotic (and more native!) than the usual suspects.

At the Fill, it can be a real challenge to avoid seeing anything but a
crow first off. They are ubiquitous. Luckily, though, they are also
diurnal - not just diurnal: they like to sleep in. You have a good
chance of seeing lots of other birds at the Fill other than crows, if
you get there early enough.

So this morning at 6:45 found us feeling our way in the dark through
puddles and mud along the Loop Trail out to the point. I figured we
might be able to dimly make out sleeping swans in the dark because
they're big and white and reflective. And wouldn't it be terrific to
have our First Bird of the Year be a Trumpeter Swan? Wow. We got our
little hopes up.

Getting past Shoveler's Pond was tricky - it was loaded with ducks -
but it was so dark, we couldn't make out what species they were. They
*sounded* like Mallards, but we didn't list them. John and I are
strict about adding a species to our year list. We do it only if we see
the bird, not if we just hear it, on the theory that you don't know
what those starlings are getting up to: they could imitate anything,
even a Mallard.

We made it out to the point without falling and without identifying
anything. It was raining, so John had wrapped our scope with a raggedy
bath towel to keep it warm so it wouldn't fog up. I had pulled my rain
slicker over my head, hat and all, so I think we must have looked even
odder than we usually do. No matter. Anyone else who was out in that
weather at that hour in that mud would have been just as far out on the
nutcase-bell-curve as we.

We set up the scope and began to scan for swans. It wasn't easy. Big
lumps of snow are still scattered along the shore, and in the dim
light, they look remarkably like sleeping swans. Finally, we saw a
lump raise its head on a snaky neck - no snowbank could do that! A swan
for sure, but what kind of a swan? We waited until the light got a
little stronger and could see a group of five swans, three that were
gray. Trumpeter Swans for sure! Roar. High fives. It turned out that
when there were 10 swans on the lake today, at least.

Other great sights for the first day of the year: Snow Goose, Cackling
Goose, Eurasian Wigeon, Canvasbacks. It's a great start to the year. -
Connie, Seattle

constancesidles at gmail.com