A story of persistence

Persistence didn't pay off the first time I went to the Davis Mountains State Park to find the Juniper Titmouse that was being seen there. Dale and I spent an hour that November 13th seeking it. (It wouldn't be a lifer for me, but a new state and county bird, plus I had never photographed one.)

It didn't pay off the second time either, when I went the following day. I figured I'd go by myself and wait until it showed up. After nearly three hours I gave up. Decided not to try again. Not exactly a lifer (or death matter), I reasoned.  Then, nearly two weeks later (Nov 29), I decided it's usually seen in the afternoon and I had only gone in the morning, so I tried for "one last time." I couldn't stand hearing the reports of successful seekers, and not seeing it myself.

It didn't pay off that third time either. I got there around noon and waited for two hours. I have all my energy in the morning, which also means my birding compulsion. By afternoon, my get-up-and-go is pretty much spent. And hardly any birds showed up.

Yesterday, over  two weeks later, a birder went and saw it in five minutes in the early afternoon. I couldn't stand it! It was do, or die trying! Never mind that the weather was frigid. So I raced through my work this morning, planning to arrive around noon for my fourth, and final "last" attempt. Not only was it cold, but quite windy too. To compound the degree of difficulty, I had decided I needed to wait outside instead of in the heated interpretive center because it seemed to me that the huge viewing window caused the birds to flush at the least movement inside, but outside behind the blind, just looking through the peepholes, the birds seemed more comfortable. I wanted to increase my chances, even if it meant getting chilled to the bone.

I had been there about five minutes when I heard what I figured might be the bird. (Later, when I listened to a recording it confirmed that was what I had heard.) Not long thereafter, I spotted a titmouse coming in that didn't seem to have any black on the front of the tuft. But in the chaos of birds everywhere, I think I did see one with black on the forehead. Were there two, or was I mistaken about the one? Seconds to sort it out, but I needed those seconds to get a photo. No photo, didn't happen!

   

Maybe it was my excitement, but my viewfinder steamed over, and I couldn't see through it. Frantically, I tried to focus, not realizing the reason. Just thought something was blocking my view. And those peepholes really inhibit camera flexibility. The tiny bird moved nonstop too, so I just couldn't focus in time. Autofocus was on, but wouldn't focus on the bird without me overriding the focus manually. Somehow, in the less than one minute I had to take photos, I fired off at least two dozen shots, not sure if I had anything diagnostic on any of them. When I looked at some of them, I was dismayed. About half didn't even have the bird in them. Here's an example of some that did....sorta.

Still not thoroughly chilled, and wanting decent photos, I decided it probably comes in frequently so I'd wait for another chance. I waited another hour, until I knew I had to leave or risk getting sick, still not sure my photos would convince a reviewer that it was a Juniper Titmouse. My camera monitor is broken and I can't tell much by looking through the tiny viewfinder. I can't really know until I get the photos processed. Now, that I've processed the photos and consulted Sibley, there's no doubt it's a Juniper. Had I been more familiar with Black-crested, even though the juveniles don't have a black crest, I would have known. All's well that ends well.

Not to bore you with any more pitiful shots of it, here's what I consider to be the best of the lot.  I'll try not to think about all the great photos other birders have of it, and just be glad I saw it and got a diagnostic photo. That was definitely one of my most challenging chases!

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