Wildlife From the 2026 City Nature Challenge

The annual City Nature Challenge is one of those events that I look forward too with great excitement. I don’t like that it brings out my competitive streak, but it always yields some surprises and joys. Please see my Bug Eric blog for this post about the insects I observed, but continue reading for the birds, mammals, and “herps” that I saw.

A male American Goldfinch at the Schlagle Library in Wyandotte County Lake Park, Kansas.

I am most fortunate to have Heidi as a partner. She has amazing observation skills, and is happy to point out what she finds so that I can get my own images, or at least try to. Much of what I see is thanks to her generosity.

Blue-gray Gnatcatcher at Wyandotte County Lake Park, Kansas.

Aside from insects, birds are the most obvious wildlife, and what Heidi is usually looking for. The City Nature Challenge conveniently falls near the peak of spring migration of songbirds, so we have that going for us.

Palm Warbler, Wyandotte County Lake Park, Kansas.

This might be the year of the Palm Warbler here, as that was the most obvious of the warbler species after the abundant Yellow-rumped Warbler that we see throughout the year.

Barn Swallows were nesting *on* the library building at Wyandotte County Lake Park.

Wyandotte County Lake Park, in Kansas, is one of our favorite places to visit, in part because there is a public library branch there, the Mr. and Mrs. F.L. Schlagle Library. It also functions as a nature center, with live captive animals, and bird feeders outside. There are nest boxes for bluebirds and Prothonotary Warblers along that part of the lakeshore, too.

Bald Eagle over Wyandotte County Lake Park, Kansas.

At this time of year there is little waterfowl diversity, so we only saw Canada Goose, and maybe a Mallard. A female Red-breasted Merganser did put in a distant appearance as we were crossing the dam.

Red-breasted Merganser female, from the dam at Wyandotte County Lake Park, Kansas.

Lapping the lake via the roads, we pulled into one viewpoint to find a Raccoon happily dining on what was probably birdseed, put out by someone to attract avian friends into view, where they could photograph from their vehicle.

Raccoon enjoying lunch at Wyandotte County Lake Park, Kansas.

Weston Bend State Park, across the river in Missouri, is another must for local birders. The “problem” this year was that the tree canopy was already so dense that seeing birds was exceedingly difficult. We’ve had a warm, periodically wet spring, and plants of all kinds have flourished.

Camera-shy Carolina Wren in the bottomlands of Weston Bend State Park, Missouri.

Rather disappointed by our visit to Weston Bend, we came home to the delight of a male Rose-breasted Grosbeak dining at our backyard feeder here in Leavenworth, Kansas. It figures. LOL! A Lincoln’s Sparrow has made itself a regular in the back yard, too. It is still there as I write this on May 8.

The male Rose-breasted Grosbeak at our backyard feeder in Leavenworth, Kansas.

We may be the Eastern Gray Squirrel capital of the country, too. The number of squirrels per capita has got to be pretty great. At any one time we can have two to four squirrels or more in the back yard, with more running up and down the giant Pin Oak in the front yard.

Eastern Gray Squirrel in the neighbor's yard, Leavenworth, Kansas.

A new mammal for our back yard has been a Hispid Cotton Rat that alternates between hideouts in the log and brush pile, and the back of our water feature, stones framing a forty gallon prefab pond.

Hispid Cotton Rat sneaking some birdseed in our back yard in Leavenworth, Kansas.

No snakes this year, but Heidi did see a Common Five-lined Skink in Wyandotte County Lake Park. By the time I reached the location, it had disappeared, as skinks tend to do.

Heidi's photo of the Common Five-lined Skink, Wyandotte County Lake Park, Kansas.

We had better luck with turtles. Two different logs at Wyandotte County Lake hosted two different kinds of turtles. The usual pond sliders occupied one log, but River Cooters were on the other. Thanks go to Travis Taggart for the identifications on iNaturalist.

River Cooter turtles on a log in Wyandotte County Lake Park, Kansas.

Amphibians included the abundant Blanchard’s Cricket Frog. I also spotted an American Bullfrog in a stream, from the bridge going over it.

Blanchard's Cricket Frog at the edge of Sportsfield Park in Leavenworth, Kansas.

American Bullfrog in creek, from a bridge in Leavenworth, Kansas.

We walked the Leavenworth Landing Park along the banks of the Missouri for our final outing of the City Nature Challenge, and Heidi spotted many great birds.

Clay-colored Sparrow at Leavenworth Landing Park, Kansas.

Harris's Sparrow at Leavenworth Landing Park, Kansas.

Heidi also noticed a Gray Treefrog sitting on an open gate where the walking path goes under a railroad trestle. Had I even seen the animal at all, I would have dismissed it as some kind of gross trash discarded by a human. Wow. Camouflage in plain sight.

Gray Treefrog at Leavenworth Landing Park, Kansas.

As we exited the waterfront park, we noted Chimney Swifts flying overhead, and two Western Kingbirds on utility wires. It was a pleasant ending to another great City Nature Challenge.

Western Kingbird, downtown Leavenworth, Kansas.

You can find all of my observations for the challenge at this link on iNaturalist. Heidi’s observations, with much better images, are here. Please share links to your own observations in the comments. We love to see what you are finding!

Chimney Swifts over downtown Leavenworth, Kansas.

Creepy Cooper's, Sinister Sharpie

Last month we had two predatory birds visit our yard in Leavenworth, Kansas, USA. While they were thrilling to observe, they gave me a bit of the shivers. Cooper's Hawk, and Sharp-shinned Hawk, are both accipiters, well-known for ambushing songbirds at feeders, much to the consternation of birders. These raptors don't give up easily, either, as I learned from the two I witnessed.

Profile of a regal killer.

My first look at the Cooper's Hawk.

On December 8, at about 12:15 PM, I got up abruptly from my chair in the living room, having remembered a household chore I needed to do. Glancing up, I saw, through the open blinds over our backdoor windows, the largest bird I had ever seen in our backyard. It was an adult Cooper's Hawk (COHA if you are a fan of banding codes), perched atop the shepherd's hook from which our feeders are suspended. Since I was startled myself, I fully expected it to fly off immediately, but went to get my camera anyway.

Oh, no, it's leaving?

The bird did indeed launch itself a short time later, but merely glided to the back section of our fence, where it came to rest once again. I was delighted to get more opportunities for photos from between the slats of the blind, through the entirely too-dirty windows.

Still here!

Three minutes later, the hawk flew to another section of the fence, closer still. A minute later, it returned to its previous spot on the rear section of fence. From there it moved to the fencepost that abuts our detached garage, and beneath a non-functional light fixture. We need to have that looked at, but I digress. The bird was staring intently at the brush pile I erected to offer cover to songbirds for situations just like this one.

At twelve-thirty, the Cooper's Hawk flew onto the brush pile itself, perching low, on one of the more exposed limbs. A minute later it was back atop the back section of fence. A moment later it was on the side fence again. What it did next was unexpected.

Prowling on the ground.

The hawk flew down to the ground into our backyard. It proceded to skulk around our forty gallon, prefabricated pond, and crawl through the dense, weedy thicket that is our vague attempt at a pollinator garden.

At this point, I became unsure whether I was watching a hawk, a Greater Roadrunner, or even a weasel. The alert, thorough searching of this predator was truly remarkable.

Searching in the weeds.

At twelve thirty-eight, the hawk returned to the brush pile. This time, it dove right in, scouring every inch of the labyrinth for potential prey. Creepy. Literally. Another minute or two later, the hawk flew away for good, headed in the direction of the federal penitentiary, an embarrassing block-and-a-half to the north, beyond the back section of our fence.

Exploring the brushpile.

The whole encounter seemed to last much longer than the twenty or so minutes between the time stamps on my first and last photo. I would have expected the hawk to conceal itself in the brush pile, and simply wait for the House Sparrows, House Finches, Dark-eyed Juncos, and maybe other birds, to return to the feeder, unaware of the potential danger. Not so. This was active hunting, and it took me completely by surprise.

On December 15, just before one o'clock PM, I stepped out the backdoor to top off the feeder. A bird about the size of a dove, maybe slightly larger, rocketed out of the brush pile, nearly giving me a heart attack. Miraculously, I could tell immediately that it was another accipiter, but definitely not the Cooper's Hawk from the previous week.

I was able to follow the flight of this smaller raptor and, amazingly, it came to alight atop a neighbor's fence about thirty yards away or so. I went back inside the house to retrieve my camera.

Even more surprisingly, the hawk was still there when I returned. I was too excited, and too vertically-challenged, to get a sharp (no pun intended) photo of what I suspected was a Sharp-shinned Hawk (SSHA banding code), over three layers of fences, at distance, but I tried anyway.

Sharp-shinned Hawk.

Separating Cooper's Hawks from Sharp-shinned Hawks is a challenging exercise even for seasoned birders. You caannot use size as a reliable difference because there is overlap between a small male Cooper's Hawk and a large female Sharpie. Both species are clad in nearly identical colors, though the back of the neck is colored the same as the top of the head and back of the bird in Sharp-shinned Hawk. The back of the neck is vaguely paler in Cooper's Hawk, giving it a black-capped appearance.

In my limited experience, I have noted that sharpies, when perched, look like they have no neck at all, the head tapering immediately into the rest of the body. Their beaks are very short and comparatively delicate compared to a Cooper's Hawk.

Profile of the Sharpie.

More experienced birders note that the eyes of a Sharp-shinned Hawk are larger in proportion to the head, such that they appear to be "bulging." The tip of the tail in a sharpie is straight-edged, whereas it is rounded in a Cooper's Hawk. This last trait can be unreliable, though, or at least difficult to properly perceive.

I wish I had not flushed the sharpie, and been able to observe whether it behaved similarly to the Cooper's Hawk. Maybe I can train my brain to recall these encounters before I abruptly and absent-mindedly throw open the back door again. It could be months, if not a year or more, before we get another visit, though. I suspect the hunting territory of these hawks encompasses a pretty large area.

You are invited to share your own stories of accipiter encounters in the comments here. I moderate input at least once per week. I will try and not be envious if you have seen a Northern Goshawk on your property.

2025 City Nature Challenge Recap for Kansas City Metro (Vertebrates and Plants)

The City Nature Challenge is an annual event that I always look forward to, when I have no conflicting engagements. I tend to plan around it, in fact. This year’s edition was held from Friday, April 27, through Monday, April 30.

Prothonotary Warbler at Wyandotte County Lake Park, Kansas.

Some background is in order for those unfamiliar with this urban bioblitz. What began in 2016 as a friendly challenge between the California cities of San Francisco and Los Angeles has blossomed into a global project. The intent is to generate public interest in native urban flora and fauna, document as many species as possible during the event period, and build a database useful for assessing environmental trends both locally and globally.

A young Common Five-lined Skink under a chunk of wood, Wyandotte County Lake Park.

Here in Kansas City, I am fortunate that the official map area includes counties a fair distance from the city. It is mostly rural in Leavenworth County, Kansas, where we live, but the town itself is at least suburban. Heidi and I usually travel to other areas, too, like Wyandotte County, Kansas, and Platte County, Missouri.

Louisiana Waterthrush at Weston Bend State Park, Missouri.

The weather this year was less than optimal, overcast virtually the entire time, cool temperatures in the low sixties (Fahrenheit), and occasional rain. Perhaps that is why public engagement was low. The stats are still coming in to iNaturalist, the web platform that hosts the observations for the event, but we had less than 300 people who contributed sightings. As a percentage of the human population, that is pretty dismal.

Blooming Mayapple in Havens Park, Leavenworth, Kansas.

Still, there is a current total of 3,744 observatios of 1,084 species (however iNaturalist defines that term, and it probably varies by taxon). Help in identifying observations has come from 349 individuals, from all over the globe. The border of Kansas and Missouri represents the eastern fringe of the Great Plains meeting the western edge of the eastern deciduous forest, so we have some diverse and interesting habitats.

Virginia Springbeauty, Weston Bend State Park, Missouri.

Personally, given the inclement weather, I looked at plants more heavily than I usually do. It helped that I now have an iPhone that takes photos which are comparable in quality to those produced by my Canon PowerShot SX70 camera. I think it performs better than the camera in some instances.

Blue Phlox, Wyandotte County Lake Park, Kansas.

When Heidi and I went out together, we focused on birds. This was especially true at Wyandotte County Lake Park in Kansas, and at Weston Bend State Park in Missouri. Both parks are heavily forested, with a large reservoir at one, and small streams running through the other.

A flock of six female Red-breasted Mergansers was a wonderful surprise at Wyandotte County Lake Park.

I don’t like that the City Nature Challenge brings out my competitive nature, but I feel compelled to demonstrate to other local citizens that insects and spiders are worth looking at. Consequently, I had the most observations for the Greater Kansas City Metro Area, and the second highest species tally. You can find the results for everyone at this link.

Swainson's Thrush at Wyandotte County Lake Park.

It is a good thing that the nature challenge was not a week later. I went back to Havens Park here in Leavenworth yesterday, May 5, to find that a new gravel road had been laid, right through a small, ephemeral wetland, and over glade habitat at the top of the park. I am devastated and angry. Rumor has it that it will eventually be another paved trail for cyclists, dog walkers, and others. I am all for accessibility, when it does not compromise ecosystems. I don’t know that I will go back to the park now, but there is nothing similar within walking distance of our home (I don’t ride a bike, nor drive any longer, and we only have one car anyway). Pretty much everything else here is lawns.

A male Summer Tanager, Havens Park, Leavenworth, Kansas.

One thing that appears sorely lacking for the City Nature Challenge is widespread publicity. There is a wonderful team of individuals at the Los Angeles County Museum of Natural History that organizes the event each year, but they can only do so much. They have to register cities, for example, which is a demanding chore all by itself. It is up to the individual metropolitan areas to do their own marketing.

A male Northern Parula at Wyandotte County Lake Park, Kansas.

Did you participate this year? Have you done so in years past? Please feel free to share your experiences in the comments. Meanwhile, you can find my insect and spider observations from City Nature Challenge over on my Bug Eric blog.

What's in a (Bird) Name?

It has been one month since the American Ornithological Society released a statement of its intent to change the English common names of bird species named for people, starting with those birds found in the United States and Canada, then moving to Latin America. Reactions to this initiative have been predictably mixed, often polarized. It is demoralizing to me personally to see friends and respected colleagues opposed to it, an absence of nuanced perspectives, and lack of creativity in solutions.

Say goodbye to Bullock's Oriole

Here are some basics so we can all be on the same page. Common, English names of species that include the moniker of a historical figure are termed “eponymous” names. This practice of naming species after people dates to at least the 1800s, and has been revealed to be wildly inconsistent, if not random, in its application. A little excavation work by author Kenn Kaufman shows that some “honorees” in eponymous bird names had little if anything to do with ornithology, let alone advance the science.

More troubling still, eponymous names have come to be associated with racism, misogyny, other forms of bigotry, and colonialism. Rather than painstakingly evaluate the baggage of each eponymous bird name, the AOS has decided to do away with all of them. This has led to accusations of “wokeism” and political correctness by some birders, and many people who have no interest at all in our feathered friends. No one seems to be asking what is to be gained by retaining such names, aside from convenience and tradition.

Do we really want a tradition of exclusion? Birding is already viewed by many as an elitist recreational pursuit, with globetrotting retirees chasing rarities for their life lists. Birding will benefit greatly from expanded human diversity within its ranks. It follows that birds themselves will benefit from increased attention to their plight.

Some with less visceral reactions have questioned whether this effort at name-changing will draw valuable financial and human resources away from bird conservation and research. My intuition tells me that expenditures will be relatively minor, and the people doing the work will not be the same people already engaged in protection of species. This is an endeavor that complements conservation, if not enhances it by making the discipline of ornithology more attractive to Indigenous scientists, and others who have viewed the science as exclusionary.

There are those who do not believe that mere name changes go far enough towards the goal of decolonizing science, politics, economics, and improving other aspects of life. This may have merit if we do not address how we can take down barriers to birding such as the affordability of optics and other equipment, increase accommodations for disabled and neurodivergent birders, prioritize the safety and respect of women and children in the birding community, and take economic initiatives beyond bird-friendly coffee.

Should you question whether I have nothing to lose in siding with those endorsing a move away from eponymous names, allow me to mention that I am a direct descendent of the “OC” (Original Colonists). My forefathers were literally on the Mayflower. In no way do I feel threatened by extending rights, freedom, and prosperity to people who identify other than White, cis, male, straight, neurotypical, able-bodied, and otherwise advantaged.

Ironically, the one downside of eliminating eponymous names, as I see it, is that we cannot name birds after any people of color, who truly have furthered ornithology and birding. (J. Drew) Lanham’s Sparrow has a nice ring to it.

Not How I Expect to Get Life Birds

Better birding through climate change? Is that where we are at now? A few weeks ago, when it became clear that hurricane Idalia had flung Caribbean Flamingos (aka American Flamingos) far from their regular haunts, I generated one of those Facebook “marked himself safe from” memes for the wayward birds. It was a joke at the time, because it still seemed unlikely that one would show up anywhere near us here in Kansas, USA. I was wrong. My experience yesterday causes me to reflect today on what my expectations and responsibilities should be when it comes to the welfare of other species.

My partner, Heidi, is an avid birder, and keeps a close eye on rare bird alerts, and what is being seen in general within reasonable proximity to our home in Leavenworth, Kansas. Earlier in the week she learned of a Caribbean Flamingo being observed at Chase State Fishing Lake near Cottonwood Falls, in the Flint Hills of Chase County, Kansas. This information came in Thursday. Since Heidi works at an elementary school, we would not be able to travel the two-and-a-half hours until Saturday. The bird had been spotted closer to us on Wednesday, at Smithville Lake in Missouri, so we expected it to keep traveling.

Stiff and persistent winds from the south over the next two days may have deterred the flamingo from flying, and sure enough we received confirmation it was still at Chase State Fishing Lake on Saturday morning. Near record high temperatures may have helped to make it feel somewhat at home, too. It had been observed feeding in the shallows, treating what we would imagine as an otherworldly experience with a surprisingly casual attitude.

The irony of “chasing” the bird in Chase County did not escape us. Once we arrived, I found myself asking the few other birders which of them had come the farthest, themselves or the flamingo. At least one individual had driven seven hours from Illinois. Others were from Manhattan, Kansas, Wichita, or from Missouri.

More to the point, there is the question of our respective carbon footprints in reaching the bird. Are we not contributing to the very problem that spawns megastorms, or at least increases their frequency? Where do we draw the line on what is an acceptable distance for such a (fools?) errand? It is surely a matter of individual choice, but what informs our decisions?

An article in USA Today gave some interesting historical background into the residency and distribution of the Caribbean Flamingo, and it turns out that records of “stray” birds date back decades earlier. Ornithologists believe that all the birds being sighted now, far from Florida, originated from the Yucatan Peninsula in Mexico. This speaks to the remarkable durability of these seemingly delicate animals.

One can view these events in one of two ways. They can be symptomatic of cataclysmic changes to global climate, or emblematic of the ability of organisms to adapt to those changes. Thanks to improving technologies, and an increasing public awareness and appreciation of birds and other animals, we are rapidly gaining insights into shifting behavioral patterns in response to climate change and habitat fragmentation. That is a good thing.

What I find myself asking today is whether I can be content to stay out of the fray, to be satisfied viewing the images of others on social media. Can I simply live vicariously through observations on iNaturalist? Those people certainly have better photography skills and equipment. As it stands, I will likely resist airline travel, knowing what I know now.

What are your thoughts on all of this? There are no right or wrong answers, and I am not asserting personal “holier-than-thou” principles. I enjoy meeting others who are passionate about the natural world and advocate for its protection. Rare instances like this can generate renewed hope, broaden one’s circle of friends, and otherwise be exceptionally positive experiences. Heidi welcomed the opportunity to share views through her spotting scope with others, especially children, yesterday. Let us rejoice in another’s wild encounters, learn from them, and look forward to crossing trails with each other.