Nemesis Birds Conquered...and Mourned

Sometime last year I first heard the term "nemesis bird" and thought it was a humorous description for a bird that always eludes its pursuer.  Then I got my first nemesis bird, and all the sudden it wasn't so funny any more. As a relatively new birder last spring, I ate up migration.  My life list grew by more than 400%.  Many days resulted in multiple life birds with one epic warbler fallout that resulted in over 20 life birds in a day.  But there was one that I just kept missing - one fairly common bird that should have been easily found in mixed flocks of migrating songbirds. The Blue-headed Vireo.

I wanted to see this bird bad.  It wasn't just some tick on my life list.  With that bold, white eye-ring, sharp blue head, and yellowish/greenish body, this was one sweet-looking bird that I just had to see.  No matter how many times I birded, I just never saw it.  One day last spring I was walking into a local birding patch as my buddy was walking out.  He said he saw two Blue-headed Vireos not too far away.  I scoured the woods and mucked my way through a tangled, swampy area to get to the right spot. Nothing.  

The fact that this was a "common" migrant that many other area birders saw regularly only increased the power of its nemesis status.  Day after day I would go birding just to look for this one bird, all the while feeling the pressure of migration's impending conclusion.  I was running out of time.  Would I get my bird?

Migration ended without an encounter with the vireo.  But I still I had hope.  I had a planned summer camping trip to northern Minnesota where this bird nests and can "easily" be found.  I saw many reports of it for where I was headed.  But despite finding another life bird that was approaching nemesis status, the Black-throated Green Warbler, and seeing a rare regular life bird for our state, the Black-throated Blue Warbler, I couldn't scratch out one Blue-headed Vireo.

The Black-throated Green Warbler at Minnesota's Temperance River State Park - an Almost-Nemesis Bird

The Black-throated Blue Warbler at Minnesota's Oberg Mountain - not even close to being a Nemesis Bird,

            but a dang-nice bird for our state!

I left northern Minnesota angrier at this bird than ever.  It had evolved into a diabolical nemesis bird. How could it be that in the past few months I had seen such great birds as a Yellow-throated Warbler, a Blue Grosbeak, and a Great Gray Owl but not one common Blue-headed Vireo?

Well, in the midst of fall migration, it finally happened. And on my birthday, too.  I caught a 3-second glimpse of a beautiful Blue-headed Vireo! A good photo always clinches a life bird for me, but I just couldn't get one. Now this bird had moved into photography-nemesis status.  Several weeks later I raced to my friend's house to try to photograph one in his yard.  Yes, we saw the bird.  But no picture.

Finally on one beautiful October day I bumped into another Blue-headed Vireo and managed to eek out a bad, albeit recognizable photo:

My nemesis no more - the Blue-headed Vireo

Because I crave a good picture, I still have a gnawing inside me to see this bird again. It still feels very unfinished.

I didn't have to wait long to get a new nemesis bird.  In addition to Blue-headed Vireos, I had also missed on Golden-crowned Kinglets last spring.  To my credit, though, they aren't common in our area during spring migration but can easily be found during fall migration.  Once again, though, I found myself being the only one who couldn't find this easy migrant. One friend said he had two in his yard and so the good locations should be holding birds.  I went immediately. No luck. 

Then I had to travel to the Minneapolis/St. Paul area.  This was good news.  Golden-crowned Kinglets are much easier to find in this part of the state.  Facebook birders advised me to try a couple of locations in the Twin Cities, but they said I shoud be able to see them in most any tree. I went. I birded. I failed. This was getting frustrating.

From the Cities I had to go to northern Minnesota.  The famed Sax-Zim Bog was on my way, and Golden-crowned Kinglets had been reported there on eBird just a day ago. Though I hiked and drove for miles, I couldn't turn one up.  To aggrevate matters, my friend back home texted me saying he found some in our town. Great.

I birded that location when I got back home a couple days later.  It was dead.  I started to resign myself to having to wait until next spring to resume the search.  But the next weekend, I was compelled to make one last-ditch effort for this little bugger.  This bird was in my head - taunting me. I hopped in my car and went back to that spot where my friend had seen them.  No luck again.  I decided to go to one last location to pursue this aggrevating little bird. On my way, another birding friend texted me saying he just had two Golden-crowned Kinglets in his yard.  I was literally two blocks away from his house when I got the message.  I wheeled into his driveway immediately and hopped out to search his trees.  His yard was a ghost-town for birds.  You've got to be kidding me.  My timing was perfect this time, but I just missed.

I went to my last location, a cemetery, and was hoping for a spark of life.  I drove through this massive place slowly and stopped once to investigate what sounded like my bird. My ears (or my eyes) must have fooled me because I didn't see it. I was about to leave the cemetery, but I thought I'd do one more loop. I just couldn't give up, especially since my friend saw some kinglets this morning.  They were still in our area.

Then I spotted movement in a spruce tree.  The movement looked right. The sound seemed correct. The habitat was textbook. I pulled up the binoculars.  The Golden-crowned Kinglet! And there wasn't just one, but close to a dozen!

The Golden-crowned Kinglet!!

The thrill of victory was incredible.  I was on a bird-high all day.  I had conquered my nemesis, and it felt good. I never picked this fight, but I finished it.

Something happened later, though, that I never expected: I felt a sense of loss. My fights were over. That vireo and kinglet were a driving force that pushed me out the door to go birding.  Now the focus was gone. The intensity wouldn't be the same. I found myself missing the gut-churning that went along with the internal question of "Will I ever see this bird?" 

Currently I have no nemesis bird.  There are some candidates, but the search hasn't been nearly long or frustrating enough to classify them as that status. While I'm not eager to get a new nemesis bird, I will savor the next one because I discovered that the thrill of the hunt is just as much fun as the reward.

Josh Wallestad writes about his birding adventures with his 6-year-old son, Evan, on his birding blog, A Boy Who Cried Heron.  He also has created a national birding website, called Birding Across America, to help birders find their nemesis birds and other great finds wherever they go.