El Niño Brings Boobies to LA County

A pair of Nazca Boobies frequenting a buoy off Long Beach

El Niño Brings the Boobies to Southern California

A Super El Niño has formed in the eastern Pacific Ocean in 2026. It is the strongest since record-keeping began over 75 years ago. Much discussed in the news for its impact on the weather, El Niños also have profound impacts on animal life. For west coast birders, a strong El Niño can bring warm-water birds that typically reside farther south off the coast of Mexico.  And that seems to be happening this year. In small numbers, but numbers bigger than usual, a kind of bird known as “boobies” has settled in to our area.

Boobies are long winged birds that spot fish and squid from the sky and plunge dive after them. They are bigger than the biggest gulls. They are often described as having a “4-pointed star” appearance, on account of their long wings, long beak, and tapered tail. They are more often seen from a boat than land (unless you’re in Hawaii).  Six species can be found in American waters. In order of likelihood of being found in L.A., they are: Cocos, Masked, Nazca, Red-footed, Blue-footed, and Brown (never seen in L.A.). Thanks to a crazy past month, I have now seen all five that have been recorded in Los Angeles County. 

Red-footed booby in Malibu

Red-footed Booby chilling on a pillar in Malibu

The craziness started in mid-September, when word went out that a Red-footed Booby was at Malibu Lagoon. Red-footed Boobies live in tropical waters across the globe. I’d seen them in Hawaii and unexpectedly while camping on the coast in San Luis Obispo. They are only spotted in LA every few years. This bird was found on the beach, and initial reports were that animal rescue had been called. This may be a good thing for a sick or injured bird. But birders in town thought “noooooooo!” as they feared losing the chance to see a nice rarity. The bird flew away, perhaps having gotten wind that the bird catchers were on the way. An hour or so later, someone re-found it along the Pacific Coast Highway east of Malibu. That was about 30 minutes from my house, so I decided to make a run and hope it stayed put long enough for me to get there. 

Luckily, it was under the watchful eye of a couple of birders when I drove up. The bird was sitting on a concrete pillar that had probably supported a house that burned in the Palisades Fire in January 2025. The bird was just 30 feet from the highway. Red-footed Boobies come in white and brown versions. This one was brown. It didn’t have the namesake red feet, but none of us complained. It stuck around for 15-20 minutes before it flew off again, flushed by a pair of birders who pulled their car up just where the bird was perched. 

Cocos Booby too majestical for the frame in Santa Monica Bay

I added another booby to my LA county list in early October on an LA Birders pelagic trip in Santa Monica Bay. While Santa Monica Bay doesn’t bring pelagic rarities as often as some other places, you never know what you’ll see when you’re out on a boat. This trip left from Redondo Beach, and followed Redondo Canyon out to the shipping lane. Around the mouth of the canyon, an immature Cocos Booby did a fly-by and settled in the water with some gulls. This is the most frequently seen booby species in LA. It’s actually a new species, having been split from Brown Booby in 2024. They range from Baja to Colombia and Ecuador. They didn’t start showing up in California until the 1990s, when they expanded their range north. It was long past time for me to see one of these, and I was delighted that we  encountered one on the boat ride. The warm waters have also brought some storm-petrels our way, and I added Least and Ashy Storm-Petrel to my county list.

There was still one more booby species being spotted in the area: Nazca Booby. They are very similar to the Masked Booby, having been split from Masked in 2002. They key distinction is a pinkish tinge to the base of the bill, instead of an all-yellow bill.  They are famous for practicing obligate siblicide, a reproductive strategy where an older chick kills and eats a younger chick in every case where two eggs hatch. Their range overlaps with Cocos Booby, though they’re less likely to be seen in California waters. To see the Nazca Boobies (there were up to 4 hanging out off Long Beach), the best bet besides a private charter was a Harbor Breeze Whale Watch tour. I signed up for one on a Saturday morning (groupon discount!), and asked the captain if he’d swing by the buoys to check for boobies. He kindly obliged. We struck out on the red buoy on the way out, but struck gold at the green buoy on the way in. In addition to a pair of adult Nazca Boobies, there was an immature Cocos on the same buoy. A pod of 1,000 common dolphins, some flying fish, and a playful Humpback Whale had all the boat-riders happy.

Before the booby bonanza of the last month, I had seen two booby species in Los Angeles. The first, in 2013, was Blue-footed Booby. They are the rarest of the boobies that have been recorded in California. They breed from Baja to the Galapagos Islands, and have glowing baby blue feet in breeding plumage. They apparently build no nest, but lay eggs on the ground. As the incubating adults poop, a wall of excrement forms around the eggs. There was an unprecedented irruption of them in September 2013, as the birds wandered up the California coast. One made it all the way to British Columbia. As many as 7 were seen on the Playa del Rey breakwater in my 5-mile radius circle. They lingered into December. One hasn’t been seen in LA since.

The other species I had seen was Masked Booby. At the same Playa del Rey jetty, a Masked Booby showed up in February 2020, just before Covid shut the world down. It stayed for 2 weeks. With a world-wide tropical range similar to Red-footed Booby, these are the largest of all the boobies. Despite the irruption of boobies this year, no Masked Boobies have been confirmed in LA.

Birding the Eastern Sierra Nevada

Big Virginia Lake, 9,800 feet above sea level

Eastern Sierra Nevada: A Landscape Beautiful Enough to Distract You from the Birds

As a parent, sometimes you have to drive nearly 6 hours one way to help your kid move out of an apartment, and store their stuff for 3 weeks until a new lease starts. It’s what you do to make life easier for someone else. As a birder, this is less a chore and more of an exciting opportunity. Ahead of time, you plot a route north that goes through the Owens Valley and along the Eastern Sierra Nevada. You find campsites in the mountains near Mammoth Lakes. And you scope out hikes along Tioga Pass in the high country of Yosemite National Park.

So it was that I was recently driving north along US-395. On one side of me was the lowest elevation point in the Lower 48 states (Badwater Basin in Death Valley, almost 300 feet below sea level). On the other the highest point in the Lower 48 (Mt. Whitney, 14,505 feet above sea level). On my first night, I was headed for a BLM campground near Crowley Lake. It required no reservations, seemed unlikely to be full, and was a spot I figured I could make by sunset. On the way up, a short-cut behind the town of Bishop produced a fly-by Black-billed Magpie, a first sighting in California for me.

Crowley Lake campground, looking west to the Sierra Nevada

When I pulled in to the campground at 7:30pm, there were plenty of treeless spots surrounded by sagebrush to choose from. The view was vast. I set up my tent, and started scanning the skies for Common Nighthawk, another species I’d never seen before in California. Just before the sun set, a floppy nighthawk flew over the highway in the distance. It wasn’t the only one in the skies. For the next couple of hours, I could hear their nasal “peent” sounds as they fed on insects in the air.

The tell-tale white wing stripe of the nighthawk

l was up early the next morning, headed first to Old Mammoth Rd. to look for Pine Grosbeaks. I saw them once near Rochester, but this would have been a third new California bird for me. The spot was full of good montane species like Dusky Flycatcher, Red Crossbill, MacGillivray’s Warbler, and Clark’s Nutcrackers. But I never saw a Pine Grosbeak. I moved on to the Mammoth Scenic Loop, exploring a somewhat recent burn area hoping for Black-backed Woodpeckers. This would be a world lifer for me. But again I struck out. White-headed Woodpeckers were a nice consolation. And knowledge that the spot appeared to offer free camping.

There was one more potential California lifer for me in the immediate area. At Mono Lake Cemetery, there had been sporadic reports of Pinyon Jays in the last month. Since it was just a couple of miles off the highway, I figured it was worth a stop. Within minutes of arriving, I heard the familiar nasal honking of these birds.

A backlit silhouette of the gray-blue Pinyon Jay

At noon, it was time to head further north toward toward a target for the trip. Gray-crowned Rosy-Finches are crazy high elevation birds. Indeed, they may breed at a higher altitude than any other North American bird.  How these little birds survive the elements is a mystery to me. They’re the most abundant and widespread of the three rosy-finch species. That said, they’re not easy to find. They simply live in locations that are too high, and too remote. The best bet to find them is summer, when it’s tolerable to be at 10,000 feet. There is one reliable spot to find them in California that doesn’t require oxygen canisters, alpine hiking, and luck.

At a place called Virginia Lakes Resort, a single birdseed feeder has been attracting Gray-crowned Rosy-finches from nearby rocky slopes for years. To my delight, it was doing so on the day I drove up. After a short wait of 15-20 minutes, a beautiful rosy-finch flew up and fed off the ground. That combo of black, gray, brown, and pink is unusual and intruiging. I felt a bit dirty getting a lifer at a birdfeeder. I guess it’s better than an armchair tick.

I camped for the night at first-come Lundy Canyon campground, which happily had a few spots to choose from when I pulled in. A Sooty Grouse had also been reported there within the last week, a bird species I’ve never seen. The likelihood seemed low, but camping there at least gave me a chance. I didn’t see or hear one, but some deer passed by my campsite at dawn.

Yosemite National Park

My last solo adventure for the trip before driving west to Berkeley was a half-day in Yosemite National Park. The only other time I had been to Yosemite was as a months-old infant, when (according to my parents) I nearly froze to death. With temperatures climbing into the 80s on this July day, there wasn’t a chance of that. Despite all the media attention to the crowds and traffic jams at Yosemite this summer, I didn’t anticipate any of that mess. That’s because instead of entering from the west and heading to the Yosemite Valley with all the yokels and dirtbags, I was entering from the east and taking the high road. When I pulled up to the Tioga Pass entrance on Highway 120, and bought my disgusting National Parks pass, there wasn’t a single car in line. 

Another pathetic and gross display from a sad, self-centered man-child

I had conflicting goals on this day. Part of me wanted to find picturesque spots and just sit down and soak it in. They abound in Yosemite. Touloumne Meadows looks almost like a CGI setting of outdoor beauty. Olmsted Point offers a jaw-dropping view of Half Dome. Any number of pullouts along the way are spectacular. Another part of me wanted to hike. Cathedral Lakes, for one, looks like an great adventure. And, of course, I wanted to look for birds. 

I chose birds. My first target was Black-backed Woodpecker. These uncommon birds like recently burned areas. The area around Lukens Lake burned in the Blue Jay fire in 2020. And Black-backed Woodpeckers were being seen on the short and easy hike to the lake. The hike is full of burned, needle-less pine tree trunks. I proceeded slowly, keeping my eyes out for movement. There were Dark-eyed Juncos and Chipping Sparrows and Hairy Woodpeckers, but not what I was looking for. When I reached the lake, my luck turned. A pair of Black-backed Woodpecker were working a pine tree in their distinctive, bark-flaking fashion. The males have a yellow forehead, while the females caps are all black. They gave me a good show for a couple of minutes.

Male (with yellow forehead) and female pair of Black-backed Woodpeckers

With a second lifer for the trip secured relatively quickly, I decided to take a hike in hopes of finding a trio of American Goshawks. A successful nest, and juveniles, were somewhere along the Ten Lakes Trail. The trailhead was just a short drive from Lukens Lake. I didn’t know exactly where the goshawks were, and there’s no cell reception in the area to look it up. But eBird reports I saw talked of signs in the area of the nest (goshawks are very vocal and territorial around nests, known to dive bomb humans who get too close). And I trusted my birding mojo.

The hike turned out to be more work than I wanted. It starts at 7,500 feet elevation, and steadily climbs from there. Many spots were exposed, and it was hot. The goshawks were about 2 miles in. When I arrived at the general area, there were no signs. But I was in the right spot. After 10 minutes, I heard the “keee-yah” call repeated. A minute later, there were 2 goshawks calling back-and-forth to each other. I saw one fly through the forest across the trail. But I never saw any of them perched. This was my 6th new bird species for California, inching me closer to 500 species for the state.

The Eastern Sierra Nevada is an incredible place of mind-melting beautiful scenery and good birding. I can’t wait to get back.

 

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