American Samoa Day 4, or The Bird that ALMOST Got Away.

Contributed by Oliver Komar

Today--Monday, December 11, 2023--was a fairly slow day, but it finished with a bang. We awoke before dawn, but still felt sleep deprived. The plan was to get into the nearby rainforest on the island's central ridge in time for the pre-dawn avian chorus. Early morning rain dampened that plan and we went back to sleep. We would wait out the rain over breakfast in the hotel restaurant.

We adapted to the rain, and decided to start the day's activities focusing on logistics, rather than birds. How could we get on a boat to visit the shearwaters, petrels, and storm-petrels that we imagined must be foraging just a few kilometers offshore? Yesterday we could see a handful from the north shore, about half a mile out to sea, maybe more. We stopped at the office of the national marine sanctuary, almost next door to our hotel, to inquire.

A very friendly receptionist named Belle was happy to help us figure out a plan. She gave us several contacts, names and numbers, and even made a few calls to set us up. Soon we had a boat captain on the line. He was talking to us from his boat offshore, and  promised to help us organize a pelagic trip for tomorrow (Tuesday).

Next, we needed to get to the airport to change the destinations for our return flights on Hawaiian Airlines (from Maui to Kona, on the "big island" of Hawaii). And we needed information for a day trip (by air) to  the Manu'a islands, which are smaller islands within the territory of American Samoa. On the way to the airport we stopped  briefly at the Pala Lagoon, to see if we could get better photos of Black-naped Tern and documentary photos of the two Sanderling Nick had spotted two days ago on Saturday. One of the terns was there but Nick missed getting photos. No sign of Sanderling but today there were a dozen Ruddy Turnstone. Nothing spectacular, but seems will be worth visiting this site again. It should be convenient anyway as the lagoon is adjacent to the airport.

It was almost noon by the time we parked at the airport. Hawaiian Airlines quickly obliged with our itinerary changes. The Samoa Airlines office also provided the info we needed to plan a visit to Manu'a (where we hoped to be able to see Blue-crowned Lorikeet and maybe Fiji Shrikebill). Unfortunately the flights to either one of the two islands in the Manu'a group ran every other day, so a trip tomorrow (Tuesday) meant returning to the main island (Tutuila, where the capital Pago Pago is located) on Thursday. Our flight to Honolulu is Wednesday night, so the trip is out of the question. We will be better off channeling the funds for the two flights into a pelagic boat trip tomorrow.

By 12:30 we were leaving the airport and our next plan was to explore the road through the high plateau on the west side of Tutuila. We expected the rainforest to be more extensive there and offer good or even better chances to find forest birds like the Shy Ground Dove and Many-colored Fruit-Dove which so far had eluded us.

We explored the road. Unlike other roads on Tutuila that crossed the mountains, this one actually did not offer any forest access. Most of the road was lined with homes, gardens, manicured lawns. The high road was cooler than the coast roads, and among the numerous Christmas decorations on display we passed a large one that read "Welcome to the North Pole"! It seems some of Santa's Elves may be living in American Samoa, at least for the winter. High on the plateau, several Pacific Golden-Plover foraged on the manicured lawns, seemingly happy to share the space with their Samoan neighbors. But no signs of forest birds. We didn't even submit an eBird list.

We returned earlier than expected, and had time to explore the rest of the roads on the southwest side of Tutuila. We located a beautiful spot to make a southshore seawatch, but after 20 minutes saw nothing more than a few boobies and noddies so we decided to head back east and check out Pago Pago harbor, near our hotel. It was raining again by the time we got there. It wasn't too late though (about 3:30 PM) and we still had not seen a new species for our trip, not to mention something new for Nick's Biggest Year. We checked all the docks in the harbor in case a rare tern might be hanging out, but we found nothing.

The rain let up even though the cloudiness didn't. I suggested we call it a day, and rest up well for tomorrow's "pelagic". Nick wouldn't hear of it, though. Remember, Nick is obsessed with finding 900 species for his Biggest Year. There are just 20 days to go. He still needs 54 species.

So we decided to finish the daylight hiking along the forested ridge above the port city. We could get to the trailhead parking lot in just 10 minutes. It seems a good place to look for the two doves and the Fiji Shrikebill. Or even the large honeyeater called the Mao, which we have heard has not been seen on Tutuila for 45 years. Perhaps it is now extinct on the island.

We parked at the trailhead parking area. No rain, despite the low hanging cloud cover. The highest peaks on the island were fogged in, but we were lower and still had good visibility. We immediately located a Polynesian Starling singing in a tree at the edge of the lot--a good omen.

A few hundred meters up the trail, we  listened to the late afternoon bird song chorus, dominated by the loud calls of the abundant and densely populated Eastern Wattled-Honeyeater. Nick was straining to hear one of, any of, his target birds. He had Merlin open on his iPhone. He had already recorded the chatter of the White-rumped Swiftlet which coursed the forest track, especially where there were breaks in the forest cover.

Near one of these breaks, as we listened, suddenly we heard a frantic piping call, reminiscent of a kestrel (a small falcon, that should not be found far from a continent and not known from Samoa). Nick went into action by hitting the record button on Merlin. I went into action by moving a few steps up the trail into the clearing where there was a much better view. I could tell the calling bird was flying so I scanned the clouds and the airspace above the valley to the northwest. I quickly located the source, a most surprising scene. Far out over the valley, a large dark bird was flying to the left (west). It had long, pointed wings and an exceptionally long tail. It seemed to be struggling (flapping hard) to get away from another much smaller bird (which I never focused on, but if I had to hazard a guess, it might have been a swiftlet). The profile of this bird was raptor like but the tail was longer than any falcon I have ever seen. The flight style was more like a grackle or a cuckoo. This was a bird I had never seen before and was certainly not expecting. I called to Nick who ran up to see the bird himself but missed it. I only saw the bird for a couple of seconds or less before it disappeared behind trees in the foreground.

This odd bird was a Long-tailed Koel, a large bird in the cuckoo family that is known to visit Samoa and other Polynesian islands. Its plumage is similar to a hawk, dark brown upperparts with streaked brown breast and barred tail. I did not realize it would appear as large as a hawk in real life but with a spectacularly long tail. We did not expect to see the koel because it was believed that the visitors to Samoa would have left for their breeding grounds by November. They breed exclusively in New Zealand. A crazy life history. Since we believed none were present now, we had not investigated possible locations or even how they use the habitats. In other words we weren't looking for this species and did not expect to find it on the ridge trail. But it is indeed a new species for both Nick and me. His Biggest Year-bird #847. In fact, this was the bird that almost got away.

I only got to see the koel for a second or so. Not enough time to even turn on my camera. Nick in fact never saw it. He heard it though. And he managed to get part of its alarm call recorded, which turned out to be critical for Nick. In the field, he thought it sounded like a kestrel, such as the Eurasian Kestrel, which would be an accidental vagrant if it were so. My description in the field also did not convince Nick. After all, there are raptors with long tails. I have no prior experience with the koel, did not get a photo, and the sighting was fleeting. I can't blame him.

Fortunately, however, Nick made his voice recording of the bird. Without that, and without access to dozens or hundreds of reference voice recordings of the same species on websites like eBird.org and Xeno-canto.org, the koel would have been the bird that got away without ever being identified. As it were, it ALMOST got away.