
I hold grudges. When a bird eludes me for the first time, it’s forgiven. But when it repeatedly evades me, I start to resent it.
On April 18, 2011, I finally saw a mangrove cuckoo in Naples, Florida. It had been my top nemesis for decades after I missed it on several attempts in southern Florida. As the name implies, it is a tropical cuckoo with a range that barely reaches into the southernmost states.
Finally spotting the mangrove cuckoo bumped the boreal owl to the top of my grudge list. Boreal owls are tiny owls of the far north. They nest from Newfoundland to Alaska, and at elevation in the Rocky Mountains south to Colorado. Although they are accustomed to cold weather, food shortages can drive them south in winter.

I tried my luck in Minnesota three years ago, but it was a lean winter. Last year, there was a big southward movement of boreal owls west of the Great Lakes. I didn’t go, so I missed my chance. Virtually none are in that same area this year. Instead, many owls have moved south in an irruption along the east side of the Great Lakes, appearing in neighborhoods along the St. Lawrence River in Canada.
I mention this because Montreal is at the same latitude as Lincoln. Caribou is parallel with Québec City. If boreal owls are being found there, perhaps they’re in Maine, too. We might never know, because the owls are so small — about the same size as our resident northern saw-whet owls. They tend to roost during the day in the foliage of conifers, where they are hard to see. Two migrants were caught and banded in Washington County last October.
I no longer hold a grudge against boreal owls. Since they weren’t coming to me, I figured I would go to them. After three days of searching in Québec last week, I found my lifer at long last. Pop the champagne cork.
Incidentally, great gray owls are showing the same irruptive pattern this winter. These huge owls are popping up in communities along the St. Lawrence. Until last week, I had only seen two great gray owls in my life. I accidentally added four more while searching for the boreal owl.
Great gray owls can be a little harder to locate, because they are considered sensitive to human disturbance. Rare bird alerts typically prevent any sightings from going public. When word gets out anyway, throngs of people may crowd around them. One owl in a park in downtown Québec City is so popular, it’s as if the neighborhood has adopted him. People drop by on their daily walk, just to say hello.

Now that the boreal owl is no longer number one on my grudge list, I don’t even know what bumps to the top. I’ve tried and failed twice to get a golden-cheeked warbler in San Antonio. I missed black-capped vireo and groove-billed ani in the same location. I searched multiple sites in southern Arizona for Montezuma quail, with no luck — although another group of birders saw them five minutes before I arrived. I’ve missed ashy storm-petrels along the Pacific coast more than once.
I don’t wish my grudge-holding anxiety on anyone else. It’s a pathetic way to organize your birding adventures. Most people — sane people — simply appreciate birds for the marvelous creatures they are.
My deviant desires started early. There was a stuffed bird display at the entrance of the children’s library just a mile-long bicycle ride from my boyhood home. Around fourth grade, I was determined to see them all. I didn’t realize at the time that there were so many, and it would take the rest of my life to achieve my goal.
Every species is new for beginners. Many species have yet to be found by intermediate birders. But advanced birders have seen most of the easy birds in Maine, leaving only the hard-to-find birds left unspotted. If that’s you, I’m here to help.
Normal people want to know what birds are in Maine. I want to know where they are. It’s another obsession that accidentally took over my life. I may not know where to find every bird in North America, but I think I can find every nesting species in Maine.
Do you have a nemesis bird? My e-mail address is usually shown at the bottom of this column. If you’re holding a grudge against a particular Maine-breeding bird, I can recommend a location. Or a therapist.









