Summer Delehanty's Portfolio

I know some birders care about the first bird they see on the first day of the year, like it’s some kind of omen. I live in a city, so I worry that would be a House Sparrow or European Starling for me, two invasive species that can’t mean anything good. Instead, I decided my first birdwatching experience would determine the year ahead.

Even though I wasn’t up that late the night before, the year was off to a slow start. It was 11am before I dragged myself out of bed, disoriented, with my phone about to die. My only plan for the day was to chase a rare bird, desperately hoping it hadn’t died from a heart attack after all the New Year’s celebrations. I had neglected to tell anyone this plan. Instead, my partner suggested grabbing brunch. As a compromise, I offered to let him come with me to look for the Snowy Owl that was continuing at the Reagan National Airport only fifteen minutes away, and then we could get food after. For some reason, he agreed.

So my first birdwatching experience of 2026 was around noon, at Gravelly Point—a slab of grass along the Potomac overlooking an airport. My partner and I were some of the few people brave (or dumb) enough to be out in the howling wind. It took some wandering to figure out where the hell people were standing to see this owl. We finally stumbled upon some other birdwatchers, who affirmed it was still there this morning, but was currently out of sight. 

With limited patience in the cold, we scanned the airport boat ramp and waited for the owl’s head to appear. Multiple false alarms of plastic bags later, we laid eyes on a white dot that didn’t blow in the wind. The Snowy Owl!

We got terrible views of the back of his head only, and my photos were Bigfoot-sighting quality, but I was thrilled. To me, he signified that in spite of it all, this year would turn out ok. That I would endure terrible conditions for a glimpse of a bird and love every second of it. And also that my life would be a balancing act—birding versus everything else, and knowing what to prioritize.

Later that day (actually, in the middle of “brunch”), I caught wind of a Red-flanked Bluetail only 20 minutes away. This rare Asian vagrant has only been seen east of the Rockies one other time, in New Jersey a couple years ago. Even on the West Coast, the little guys are rare. It finished my meal, spent some quality time with my partner, then naturally, beelined it out to Great Falls for another glimpse of a rare bird under terrible conditions. Cheers to a great year ahead!