As I noted last month, birding with grandchildren is one of my joys. I’m appreciating it even more as I read the number of “What sparked your interest in birding?” posts where so often, birders say that they first got interested at age 8, or nine, etc. In any case, yesterday Dane and I went on a Saturday morning birding expedition which started poorly but ended up great.
We are in Annapolis for a few days and enjoying the diversity of birdlife here. It’s like seeing old friends that moved away from Vermont a month or two ago. The sparrows and kinglets are here and since most of our lakes are frozen, the loons and ducks are nice to see again.
Dane and I left to visit the Patuxent River Research area. He had been there with his dad on a great visit this Fall but we wanted to check out the southern section. So we launched into an early morning stream of traffic on busy Highway 50 (it take a while to get used to the people on the move here after Vermont) and worked our way northwest for 40 minutes. Fog, mist, and heavy traffic and poor directions on my part brought us to the north tract. It was closed for hunting. We drove in looking for someone to ask directions of but nothing doing. (In retrospect, I found out that I could have worked my way around to the south area, which was open.)
I decided on a fallback plan — nearby Oxbow Lake Refuge — where Tundra Swans had recently been reported. We wove our way over, navigating through the massive housing development of which the refuge is part (looks like the developer set aside some wetlands as part of the deal). We found a spot with what appeared to be visitor parking and as soon as we got out of the car, we could hear the geese. As we poked through the woods and saw the marsh, I could see a few dots of white and getting the scope on them, saw two Tundra Swans hanging out with hundreds of Canada Geese. These were life birds for both Dane and me. We saw some hoodies, some Mallards, and decided to head back to another site nearer home.
Greenbury Point is a 231 acre peninsula at the mouth of the Severn River that is one of the best birding spots in the area. It’s pretty busy on the weekend with runners, dog walkers, and birders. It was cool to spot a Red-tailed Hawk perched on a tree on the access road — we pulled the car off to the side and got it in the telescope until it got sick of the attention.
This Red-bellied Woodpecker posed and chattered away as it fed on an old tree at Greenbury Point.
We walked a loop that features a lot of low brush and berries bushes and immediately ran into a batch of White-throated Sparrows. These are great for young birders since they have distinct field marks, are pretty cooperative unlike some of their frenetic cousins, and often are at eye level. Dane got some great looks at them.
Another cooperative bird was a Red-bellied Woodpecker, who was not only colorful but noisy. We watched one through the scope for some time and took a few photos. We ran into several others as we moved on.
There were hundreds of Cedar Waxwings in the high trees. They were not easy to identify in the mist and lousy light until we got them in the scope. As we departed, we saw about a dozen Eastern Bluebirds foraging along the golf course. They were a vivid ending to a nice outing.
Dane uses eBird so as soon as we got home, he reviewed his notepad and entered the birds that we saw. He then shared the reports with me. Another perk of birding with grandchildren.
Dana D was “oozed” into birding by a rustic island camp:
Now admittedly it is a long time ago now but I was blessed with having grandparents that read an ad in the mid 1920’s of a cabin for rent on a pond in Center Tuftonboro, NH. I am told that when the sun rose that next day (after they arrived in the dark) the magic of the pond captured them and a few years later they had built a cabin across the lake. I was also very fortunate that my Mother loved that spot and I remember the moment that school got out, my parents would pack us up and off we would go for the summer living the life of Huckleberry Finn. Those of you that have been there know that my side of the lake is much the same as it was way back when.
But this is the spot where the wonders of the spot just oozed out and enchanted me. I am not sure now if it was the loons that swam by, or the majestic Scarlet Tanager or my favorite Black-throated Blue Warbler or the Pileated Woodpeckers that first captured me or whether it was that whole experience that propelled me to ask my parents for a bird book for my 8th birthday. I like the ooze idea! Now the place is mine and Bob and I spend most of the summer there still entranced by those same experiences and working hard to preserve them.
Common Loons swimming by the camp were part of Dana’s “spark.” photo by mikebaird
We still have to go by boat – we do have a footpath but is like island living. We still have no electricity and a little house in the woods, and a spring further back in the woods for drinking water . In the old days we cooked with wood on a big old stove and had to haul in ice for a frig.. Now the “modern” things we have consist of propane tanks that power a frig, stove and a few lights, and recently a solar panel that runs a little demand pump which allows us to have lake water coming out of a kitchen sink and will charge those modern things like my computer and a cell phone.
This influence has propelled me for the rest of my life sustaining a passionate interest in birds – I have been very fortunate as no matter whether I was working at a Mass Audubon summer camp, at Cornell getting to know Allan and Kellogg, teaching biology in India, travelling around the world, or just watching my bird feeders here in North Andover, I know that my disease in incurable and I will always be caught in this wonderful web.
Dick H (VT) was another who started birding very young and has continued for many decades:
Was born and brought up in Winchester, MA and since the age of 8, 1940’s, I asked for Birds of North America, can’t think of the author, and liked to sketch from the pictures in the book and from real life. Even then, I had to know the names. When I went fishing at Big Winter Pond, would sit for long periods just watching the birds and testing my knowledge of them in my head. But, as a teenager, I was more interested in sports and not into birding as such, I simply got enjoyment from being outside and knowing as much about the natural history around me as I could at that age. What sparked a passion for birding as a way of life waited till I was visiting our family place in Maine for a week in May in the late 1950’s. I saw for the first time a gorgeous male Blackburnian Warbler singing from a spruce tree just outside the house where we were staying! I would watch in awe! Oh my, that was the moment!! I was bound and determined to learn the Warblers and set out with my Petersen’s to experience as many as I could find at that time.
The Blackburnian Warbler was a “spark bird” for many, including Dick H. photo by Matt Tillet
Went to different local habitats in the area. I have never looked back, have loved every moment, from banding in the 60’s and 70’s, going after rarities, being involved with Christmas Counts. Now that I’m retired and live in Vermont, keeping records of whatever I see on our property is fun for me. Beyond going out west or to Churchill, I have been fortunate enough that because John Kricher, don’t think he knows this, but through him and his books got me interested in tropical birds. That has led to trips to Africa, Brazil, Panama, Venezuela and Australia. Many thanks John!!
Jim’s dad was his spark:
My spark was my dad. I was blessed with a father who liked to be outdoors (mainly fishing) but happily supported his son’s obsession with birds. The gasoline to that spark was a very active local birdwatching club. Before I was a teenager I had visited many famous birding spots in England including the Isles of Silly. I progressed to twitching which was great fun until I discovered the opposite sex. Bird photography is the latest iteration of my life long passion. In 2010 I was finally able to take my dad to Scotland to finally see our nemesis bird, a Corn Crake.
Lesley’s grandfather provided the spark:
For me, it was my loving grandfather who adored the outdoors . Although I was born and raised in Marblehead, MA, we had a summer home on a mountain overlooking New Found Lake in NH and it was here that my granddaddy took my brother and myself fishing and hiking in the woods where he would point out the birds, wildlife, and wildflowers. He gave my brother and myself a set of 2 books of birds, they were large books, one was Songbirds and the other was Water Birds and they were filled with the most beautiful colored photos of birds that I longed to see , but the best part of these books was they each came with these flexible plastic records that had all the songs of the birds. This was pure magic for me and although I could not have been more than 8 to 10 years old I was totally hooked, I listened to the records and committed so many songs to memory and was completely enchanted when I found, through song, my first Baltimore Oriole in my very own neighborhood. I can still remember seeing that first flash of brilliant orange and even found their sling like nest in a big old Elm tree… ya that was like 50 years ago.
Lesley still remembers the oriole’s nest, like this one, from fifty years ago. photo by Dendroica cerulea
So when I started to become serious with photography 10 years ago, it was just so natural for me to choose birds as one of my main subjects. My world has been so magical since resuming my love of birds and nature the last 10 years. I have seen birds that I never dreamed I would and so many right under my nose. It is a joyous journey and I am so happy to be on it.
And Fred, inspired by Miss Dickey, has used her as a model to pass the spark on:
I remember no spark. The interest was always there in all kinds of nature. There was no one bird or one event that started me on my path. I think I was born with it. But it wasn’t until I was 8 in 1964 that it really started to grow.=A0 That was when my parents signed me up for the bird club at Children’s Museum in Jamaica Plain, taught by Miss (Miriam E) Dickey. She fed the sparks into flames which have burned intensely ever since. She fed the desire to learn as much as I possibly could and helped me to see as many birds as I could. The first bird I identified on my own was in the big sugar maple tree in front of the house in West Roxbury shortly after starting in the bird club. A beautiful bird with iridescent purple and green on its feathers, a bright yellow beak, and fluttering its wings as it sang the most amazing complex song. It was the song that grabbed my attention and drew me outside from the bedroom. I memorized the bird, studying it with the binoculars my grampa had given me. Then I ran into the house and identified it from the posters hanging on my wall. My first bird. A European Starling. I was so excited. And so amazed that it was from Europe. The next time in bird club, Miss Dickey told me it wasn’t rare, which was a disappointment,but she did not squelch my enthusiasm, and congratulated me on my identification. Miss Dickey led us on weekly walks at the Arnold Arboretum or around Jamaica Pond and through Sargent’s Estate. Every Saturday AM during the school year. Amazing.
Miss Dickey was a model for me. I am very thankful for her. I have taught grades 3 and 9-12 for over 30 years. Inspired by her I have tried to plant new sparks, and fan already-existing ones into flames in my students and teen bird club members, by getting them out there into nature to experience it first hand, hoping that they will form a heart-connection with nature and a great curiosity about it. It is a real joy to see this passion for birds (or any kind of nature) take off in their hearts and minds and faces, and sometimes careers.
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As we read the stories from birders, many were sparked by a mentor — an older friend or a parent. Others were converted by the flash of a Blackburnian Warbler or Northern Cardinal. Still others were young nature lovers who evolved into birders. Doug C. has been thinking about this and summarizes it like this:
I find this particular thread on how people acquired their passion for birds to be extremely interesting. I have always been curious how others got into birding and have asked many. Over the years, I have decided that this acquired passion can be placed into one of three general categories. To paraphrase William Shakespeare, people become dedicated birders by being born into it, or achieving it, or having it thrust upon them.
Some have been toting binoculars since they could walk and have gotten field guides as one of their earliest remembered gifts. photo by USFWS
Some of us are born to birding. We are born into a family that is already seized with this passion. Some are the children of professional ornithologists or naturalists. Some are children to parents who are already dedicated amateur birders.Because these people have been studying birds all through their peak learning years, they are often the most accomplished among us.
Some of us achieve birding. My Lois is one of those. A new feeder in the back yard brings in birds one has never seen before and curiosity takes over. When a person enters birding by achieving it quite often results in it being difficult to know the exact moment when the passion took over. They start trying to find out what the yellow bird picking at the thistle is, and before they know it they are standing in the rain at the Pipe line road in Panama. The transition is slow but sure and ones’ life has changed.
Gerry Cooperman and I fall into the third category. We had birding thrust upon us. His conversion took place 9 years before mine but is eerily similar. The bird he saw through the scope was in a plowed field and was a Killdeer. My experience was also through another’s scope and it occurred on a beach and was a Ruddy Turnstone. In both cases it was a revelation. We stepped away from the scope knowing that our lives had changed in a fundamental and profound way. We were blind but now could see.
An interesting note on my first birding encounter was that the two birders who took me out for the first time at one point became excited and directed me to look at the bird in the scope. “Look at the bill” they encouraged me, “Look at that big black bill.” It was a rather plain looking plover and although I knew it was exciting by their reaction, I didn’t think it matched my stunning Ruddy Turnstone. The Turnstone turned me to birding but I also got a Wilson’s Plover as a bonus that I have only appreciated in later years.
Stuart W. was one who began young and has been at it, off and on, for six decades:
Where does it begin? One of my earliest memories is being held up by my mother to see a bluebird or robin’s nest in a tangle of leaves next to the back door of our house in Plymouth. Then, as a little boy, I chased robins across the yard with a salt shaker because I’d been told I could catch one if I could only put salt on its tail. We moved to Sudbury when I was ten, during an invasion of Evening Grosbeaks that lasted a couple of years or more, and they would mob the feeder I had outside my bedroom window (I also remember a one-legged Chickadee that showed up for at least two years running.) The next year, in 1959, my father drove me to Concord to see the Hawk Owl that appeared in a mid-town parking lot that winter – the last life bird of the great Ludlow Griscom. It’s been an erratic trajectory, but one I’ve been on for sixty years.
Walt W. likewise has a lifetime of observing nature, the wonders as well as the environmental changes:
Walt has a 1947 Peterson field guide that he used as a youngster in Ohio.
As a child growing up in Ohio in the ’40s, I was lucky in having fields right behind my house. My lifelong interest in nature was sparked one day as I sat spellbound in a school auditorium watching a live snake show! While I began my nature interest by collecting snakes & other reptiles, my fascination with nature eventually spread to the rest of the natural world, including birds. (I still have a rare 1947 copy of Peterson.) For many years I kept a diary of my nature observations & jaunts which included pencil sketches in the margins.
Although I moved to MA many years ago, I still return occasionally to my Ohio hometown & there to revisit the center of my youthful world–the woods, creeks, & pond at the local golf country club. Little did the golfers realize what a natural paradise existed beyond the greens & fairways! I mapped & named the places where my discoveries were made–Snake Bank, Turtle Peninsula, Oak Ridge, Salamander Creek, Fern Glen, etc. Although much has changed in the years since I roamed this wonderful place, there have been occasional delightful surprises during my visits.
On one return in the summer of 1993, I discovered, to my considerable distress, that a maintenance road had been cut right through the middle of “my” beloved woods (a big island of trees surrounded on all sides by the grassy fairways). But a pleasant surprise awaited me that day! I quote from my notes: “In & around a clearing along the road where tall dead beeches & debris piles existed, there was a concentration of birds: a Wood Pewee singing from an exposed dead branch; a Carolina Wren calling loudly while searching through the low cover; a flock of both adult & juvenile American Robins on the road itself; Common Grackles; a raucous Blue Jay; American Goldfinches; an American Crow; a pair of Mourning Doves also on the road; Tufted Titmice; a flock of Cedar Waxwings taking flight. The highlight was a family of Red-headed Woodpeckers! The adults were working the dead trees, periodically calling & carrying food to the dark-headed young following them.” Unfortunately, sometime later the entire woods was replaced with a practice green! A sad ending.
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It wasn’t until I was turning 70 that I got seriously hooked on birding. I had dabbled in it and enjoyed watching birds in our woods but never kept lists or owned any decent binoculars until late 2009 when I was planning our first Airstream trip to the Southwest. I discovered eBird and also joined listserves in some of the southern states to learn about what was going on. When we launched in January of 2010, I had a life list of 38.
The drive to Goose Island State Park, in Rockport, Texas was easy with lots of straight Texas roads with 70 mph limits. We started to see lots of birds as we approached Aransas Wildlife Refuge and soon were searching for a site at the park – where we had made reservations. (Texas has an interesting process in their state parks — you can reserve a slot for a date or period but not a site — so you have to decide once you are there which available site you want.)
We found a nice isolated site surrounded by oaks and thickets and right next to a little bird sanctuary and the showers. We set up on the level site and I promptly got sick for two days — pretty severe stomach bug. Lots of rest, fluids, and good care from Mary and I made a nice recovery yesterday.
I felt up to participating in Saturday’s bird walk — having missed the two earlier ones — and was astounded at the variety as well as the knowledge of the volunteer guides. We saw about 45 species including willets, gulls, pelicans, ravens, vultures, ducks, and a white ibis. I don’t know birds around the sea very well so it was very informative and just spectacular birding. (Note: This was the Spark!)
The camaraderie and expertise of the birding group, and the wonderful diversity of birds (mostly new to me) got me hooked on birding. (Jan 2010)
We really like this place — it’s a wonderful area. We decided to extend for another week rather than keep traveling. Seems nice to settle for a bit and enjoy the weather and the birding. Yesterday afternoon, we drove over to a field where two whooping cranes are living. There were a half-dozen other birders there — some armed with monstrous lenses for their cameras. The birds were just regal, standing on one leg, preening themselves, ignoring their watchers. It’s hard to believe that they fly down from upper Canada and that there are still only a little over 300 of them alive.
This is a nostalgic area for us. Last night out walking the dog, I was watching the sky full of stars and remembering night flying here, decades ago. I happened to remember a night cross-country where I was returning in a F-9 trainer with an instructor high over Houston and we just went inverted and watched the lights of the streets, parking lots, ball field for a while. I did my advanced flight training here, got my Navy wings here, and our daughter was born in this area. Our son got his USMC wings here as well.
So, we’ve got more whooping cranes to see at the wildlife center, a visit up to Beeville to find our old house and the hospital and the air station, and hope to meet up with my brother Barry and his wife Mica before they head further west. But the schedule is a vacation schedule — and all plans are flexible. It’s nice. Now I need to find those black-bottomed ducks.
So, when we departed Goose Island in mid-February, I had added 55 birds to my life list in two weeks and just ahead, at Falcon State Park, I encountered my first rare birds adding a Roadside Hawk and some Groove-billed Anis to my list. That amazing first bird walk had launched me into passionate birding at age 70. Thanks be.
Here are the next group of stories from the Massachusetts birding community (extended) about what was the spark that made them birders.
Catherine (NH) was hooked by a booming Bittern:
I was fortunate in that my Dad has been a lifelong bird watcher, but I don’t recall his ever pushing my siblings or me to follow his bliss. Still, there quite a few species to be seen around our home, and I was given an antique hard-covered child’s first book of birds when I was around 6 or so. My folks had a sunflower seed feeder hanging above the front porch, but I read in my book about getting some strange substance called suet (which I pronounced as you would a man’s business attire), and asked my folks if they knew where we could get some so we could see woodpeckers.They obtained suet and hung it from on old onion bag and soon we had hairy and downy woodpeckers at our feeders.
From age 6 or so, birds were my winter pastime. I enjoyed watching our feeders on snowy days and became familiar with the birds that stayed or arrived with the snow. In those days (late 50s early 60s), we’d have evening grosbeaks every winter – great flocks of them that came and devoured mass quantities of sunflower seeds. It’s been decades since I’ve seen flocks like those.
The spark, though, didn’t hit me until one early morning in the spring when I was eight. Our home was abutted by two abandoned pastures, and beyond them was a small pond surrounded by a sizable cattail swamp. Every spring a pair of bitterns would set up housekeeping in that swamp, and our early mornings would be punctuated with the male’s strange, booming call. I knew it was a bittern, because our Dad had told us so years ago; and I knew what a bittern looked like because I’d looked it up in our Peterson field guide.
But that spring morning, as the male was thundering away in the swamp, I decided that I was going to go see what this bird looked like when he was making his weird music. I wanted to SEE what he did to make that sound! It was a much harder (and soggier) undertaking than I’d imagined it would be, and I spent a good twenty minutes jumping from cattail hummock to cattail hummock – trying hard (and failing) not to muck up the new sneakers that were supposed to last me at least until the end of summer. I was so intent on where I was putting my feet that I came on the bittern almost before I knew it. One minute I was grabbing a handful of spent cattail stalks and trying not to tumble in the muck, and then there he was, just twenty feet or so away, on his own hummock. He was much more handsome than the picture in the book, and I was fascinated by how painful-looking his singing was. Each sound required so much effort that it seemed to my eight-year-old eyes, that he was constantly on the verge of throwing up. I was absolutely transfixed by that bird – by nature I was rather a fidgety child, but so intent was I on not spooking the bittern that I crouched behind my cattail clump as if frozen. I don’t know how long I watched him before he finally flew off to sing in some other section of his swamp, but it felt like I stayed watching him for a long time before he left, and I felt like I could stay like that forever. What I remember most was the elation I felt – like I’d been lit up inside with a feeling of great joy – that, through my own hard slogging, I had seen something wonderful.
An American Bittern was Catherine’s “spark bird.” photo by goingslo
I think, when I go bird watching, I’m chasing that lit up feeling as much as I’m chasing glimpses of these wonderful creatures. My Dad will be 80 this year, and we still try to get out bird-watching once a week or so. Often we just sit in one place, drink coffee, and watch whatever comes by. It’s a rare outing where we don’t see something avian that gives us that joyful, lit up feeling.
Tom (CT) became hooked at summer camp:
My spark was similar to one of the first posters, who posted about the distant eagle. I was 12 years old, at a summer camp in New Hampshire. I had been interested in birds since I was 5-6, raptors mostly, like most boys (had a falling out with my best friend for a while over who would win in a fight between a Bald Eagle and a California Condor!), but never really birded. My spark bird was a male Blackburnian Warbler (I’m sure I am not the only one) that a counselor showed me on a nature walk, but it was the fact that you could use binoculars to find and identify this tiny bird so far away that really opened up my world.
That winter, I bought a box of Cap’n Crunch with a pair of binoculars inside as a free prize, then upgraded to another pair of plastic binocs from a drug store, then to my dad’s mother of pearl opera glasses(!) before finally getting as a birthday present, about 80-90 species later, a pair of 8x40s optimized for sports viewing (which I was inordinately proud of because both the 8 and the 40 were bigger numbers than the standard 7×35!). Ironically, like another poster, I’m actually not very good at spotting things with my eyes, and have been a birder mainly by ear for most of my life (though my favorite group of birds are shorebirds–I love sitting and going through a flock with a scope over and over again).
Gerry, the “spark” for this wonderful discussion, tells how sharing a ‘scope can change a life:
It was July of 1970. My wife of two years and I were spending the weekend with my cousin and his wife at their Bonnet Shores house. He asked me if I would like to go birding with him on Sunday morning and not being adverse to trying something new easily agreed.
We went to Moonstone Beach and trudged out by the potato field where my cousin set up his Swift scope. Mind you I didn’t even have a pair of binoculars. He started sweeping the fields and then stopped and fiddled with the focus wheel and said “here take a look at this.”
I put my eye to the scope and what happened next was nothing short of an epiphany. The bird in the scope was a Killdeer and seeing him was like a laser back to my brain because at very moment I knew what I was going to do the rest of my life.
Gerry gives quiet thanks to his “spark bird” — a Killdeer. photo by winnu
Today when I find a Killdeer I always linger. It’s not to recreate that moment because that can only happen once but I always view the Killdeer as the key to my great adventure. If you happen to be standing close enough to me you will hear an audible ” thank you” and that comes from my heart and soul.
Jessica notes that she is a “birding baby” compared to many contributors to this thread:
My own story is so different. Maybe six years ago, on a whim, I got a video about “backyard bird identification” from the library. At a local park, I made my first identification: a flock of house sparrows. I watched them hop about, fascinated. They were no longer just “birds”, beyond any
hope of recognition. They had unique names and identities and habits. Suddenly birds were everywhere. I got to know the chickadee, the robin, the blue jay…
A few years later, I imitated a mysterious and lovely (and loud) bird call to my boyfriend. “That’s a cardinal,” he said without hesitation. I was stunned (and a little skeptical). How could he know that from my poor imitation? He got me “Birding by Ear”, and pretty soon I was helping him make identifications.
I think what got me hooked though was the experience of going to places that seemed empty and just stopping long enough to see that they hosted a rich variety. If I stand still and pay attention, I might see coots bobbing in the reeds, a heron motionless and hunting, goldfinches calling as they fly, a flock of bluebirds passing through.
Looking forward to reading more about your adventures and finds.
You can read the initial question here and the first batch of answers here.
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When Gerry Cooperman put his “What Sparked Your Interest? on the MASSBirds listserve, I asked him for permission to post it here. I figured he’d get a half-dozen responses and perhaps I’d excerpt one or two and move on. The response has been overwhelming as dozens of birders from across the Northeast tell their story. Here are a few examples from just the first day of responses.
Paul was in college:
My spark came as a nineteen year old at UMASS. I was told one could see bald eagles at the Quabbin. I packed my girlfriend in the car one cold winter morning and made the trek down route 9 and arrived at the reservoir expecting there to be an eagle in every tree. How naive I was. It wasn’t until I arrived at the Enfield lookout that I noticed a few older gentlemen with very large homemade telescopes. I built up the nerve to speak to one of them and asked what they were looking at. The answer was something like “that eagle in that tree on Mt. Ram” I looked with my naked eye and saw a mountain. He suggested I look through his scope and that’s when I saw my first adult bald eagle. Amazed by what I saw, I immediately went and purchased the best binoculars and scope that I could afford and decided I wanted more!
Kathleen was a young girl:
I remember the day very well. It was in May and I was perhaps 10 or 11.
My sister had come down with scarlet fever. I was perfectly healthy but the house was quarantined, so no school for me. It was a lovely warm morning, my window was wide open and I heard birds singing. Encouraged by an aunt, I was just beginning to become more seriously interested in birds. I knelt by my open window, looking down at the pear tree in full bloom below, and suddenly the brightest bird I had ever seen flew into the top of the tree…the brightest red I had ever seen, with black wings and tail.
I knew robins and crows, blue jays and chickadees, but I had NEVER seen anything like this. This scarlet red atop a white tree. I just had to know what it was. My aunt had given me her old copy of the little Chester Reed bird book with black and white drawings. It look a long time of turning pages, but eventually I found the bird and immediately took my crayons and colored it in, and decided to try to see every bird in the book. I’m still looking, and marveling, at all the wonderful birds that are out there waiting to be discovered.
David is a birder who began in middle age, decades after he wished he had begun.
My spark birds were Harlequins at Cathedral Ledge in Rockport in late fall, 2008. My first-grade son, Tim, had gotten interested in birds via feathered dinosaurs, and my wife and I enrolled him in the Chickadee Birders program at Drumlin Farm. That Saturday we had gone to the Gloucester Fish Pier, where I figured out how to use binoculars, but when we got to Cathedral Ledge, something had dawned on me: I had been blind until that day, to birds, that is. Beautiful, glamorous, utterly surprising birds. I was hooked, and began strolling around our neighborhood in Concord trying to see birds; it turned out I wasn’t all that good at locating them, but I thought that hearing them was almost good enough, so I began concentrating on finding them by ear.
David’s spark birds were Harlequin Ducks. photo by Dendroica cerulea
My son, meantime, has turned to other things, but still remembers his Sibley and asks to see local rarities now and then. Even if he doesn’t turn into a lifetime birder, he’s given me that gift.
Steve Arena described two spark moments:
The first time was the second week of May, 1970. I was staring out the window of my first grade class at the Henry Grew School in Hyde Park, Mass. Like a beacon of light, a bright red bird with all black wings alit atop a weeping willow tree – singing continuously. True to form, I jumped up, disrupted class, and got the teacher “on the bird”. Mrs. Ferrara was wonderful. She stopped the class so that all the kids could see this beautiful bird singing in the clear morning light. She took it a step further and over the next couple of days, we learned all about birds. The Scarlet Tanager and Mrs. Ferrara’s encouragement were all I needed.
Scarlet Tanager — the bird that started it all for Steve. photo by Steve Arena
The second time for me was after taking some time off from seriously birding to raise two wonderful children, a Massbird report of two (2) Black Rails at PRNWR entered my inbox. The birds were found by some hot shot birder I never heard of before (you all know him as Marshall Iliff) and a young man that I last knew as a boy (Jeremiah Trimble). I ventured up to the Island on 6/21/10 and was treated to the odd yet wonderful sound of two Black Rails calling at dusk. Zing! The hook was reset.
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We are leaving for a brief visit to our family in Maryland this Thursday. Annapolis is always a great place to bird and I’ve had some nice outings in the general area. I’m not too interested in finding rarities this trip – I want to spend some time with my grandson, Dane who is a budding birder and lister. We’ve already visited several local hotspots during past trips and likely will do so again.
When we are traveling outside Vermont, I usually do some “electronic scouting” to check out the birding situation at our destination. So here’s a few ideas on how I prepare. Please feel free to add your ideas in the comment section.
Monitor Birding Groups
Before our trips to the Southwest, I rejoin list serves in Tennessee, Mississippi, Louisiana, and Texas to monitor their reports and get a sense of what I might be able to see. Likewise, in the East, where we travel to MA and MD periodically, I belong to various groups and read them. I haven’t had much luck in the past with the MD list serve, which went through some turmoil, but joined the Facebook group for Anne Arundel County and watch their stuff closely.
Use iBird
I routinely check the hotspots for the area I’m going to visit, checking to see what has been reported in the last 30 days. iBird uses eBird data but displays it graphically as shown below. It’s also nice to be able to search for a particularly species to see where it has been recently seen.
Here’s the iBird map for hot spots around Annapolis. I click on each one and check to see what’s been reported recently. It’s a great planning tool.
Query Local Birders
I’ve been to Maryland several times and met a few birders. I keep their names (and sometimes a short description) on my iPhone — just so I can greet them by name if I see them again. Sometimes, I’ll email one and ask for help. For this trip, I posted a question on the Facebook page and got some good feedback.
Needs Alerts -eBird
eBird lets you set up alerts on rare birds or birds that you haven’t seen in the area you are visiting. The reports, if you have never visited an area, can be lengthy but you can scan it for birds of special interest. You can get daily or hourly reports listing birds seen in last seven days. I noted that Tundra Swans are being reported at several locations — this would be a life bird. One of the Anne Arundel Facebook birders posted a great photo as shown below.
Tundra Swans recently seen in the Annapolis area. photo by Hugh Vandervoort.
So, I’m looking forward to warmer weathers and some birds that we won’t see in Vermont until next Spring. What I need to do first is make the eleven-hour drive.
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All fall, we have watched birds flock to our sunflower seed feeder, our thistle feeder, and our suet containers. As I wrote last month, our feed store folks love us — we are going through a lot of bird food.
Where does all this food go? I know that some of our visitors are eating it on the spot but many seem to fly away with one or more seeds in their craw. Recall our discussion of Common Redpolls and their “pocket.”
It turns out that birds have three options to make it through the time when there is little food.
They can “get out of Dodge” by migrating to places where there is food
They can scratch and scrounge and nearly starve, or
They can store food and hope it’s there when they need it.
White-breasted Nuthatches and their red-breasted brethren also store food for later dining. I often see them nabbing a large seed and flying off.
Our most frequent visitors to the feeders are Black-capped chickadees which are well known for their food-hoarding behavior. Usually they hoard seeds but they are also known to store insects and spiders may be stored as well. I’ve seen hundreds of chickadees grab sunflower seeds and pieces of suet from bird feeders. They remove the husk of a seed before caching it. I’ve seen a few stashing seeds in the bark of our white pines.
The number of seeds stored is staggering. Over 1,000 items may be stored in a single day and, over the course of autumn, 50,000 to 80,000 seeds may be cached. Sites for food storage are varied. Typical hiding places are cracks or crevices in woody vegetation, under bits of bark (particularly birch bark), in clusters of conifer needles, in the ground and even in the snow.
Other food hogs at the feeder are Blue Jays which are energetic hoarders, storing acorns and other nuts but even invertebrates, small vertebrates or bits of meat. Favored storage sites are cracks and crevices of tree trunks, amid the needles of conifers and in loose soil.
A blue jay can carry up to five acorns at once to be stored. The acorns are swallowed and stored in the upper part of the esophagus. The acorns can then be regurgitated intact when a suitable hoarding site is found.
Several Western birds are known for their hoarding. Pinon Jays and Clark’s Nutcrackers both rely heavily on hoarding to get through the winter. Both species store pine seeds, which they laboriously remove from pinecones. A single Clark’s nutcracker can store up to 100,000 seeds in the fall. Both nutcrackers and pinon jays do not raid their hoarded seeds until most of the fall seed crop is depleted. One researcher has determined that up to 90 percent of the winter diet of Pinon Jays comes from stored seeds.
Western Scrub Jays take a lot of precautions with their food. When another jay is watching, a scrub jay will store food in difficult to see places (far from an observer, behind a visual barrier, etc.). Often, if observed while hiding food, later, when unobserved, it will move food to another location.
How does a long-term hoarder like Clark’s Nutcracker recover stored seeds when it needs them? Ornithologists at first thought that the food was stored only in certain kinds of areas, and that the birds rediscovered it by later foraging in the same areas. But research shows that individuals can recall where they have cached seeds. The birds remember where the seeds are in relation to certain landmarks, such as rocks. If the landmarks are moved, the areas the birds search are displaced an equivalent amount.
Out of all the species of woodpeckers, only 10 are known to hoard food. Our Downy Woodpeckers and Hairy Woodpeckers are among the ten but only infrequently store food.
As I noted before, Northern Shrikes store food in an interesting way. Small mammals or birds are killed and then impaled on a thorn or barbed wire fence for later consumption, hence the reason for calling these hoarders “butcher birds”.
As we head into serious winter conditions, it’s comforting to know that many of our prior visitors have stashed food away. in case our buddies are having a brain cramp and like us, forgetting where they put things, we’ll keep the feeders clean and full.
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Each type of band is made in many different sizes so that every bird has a suitable size band available for use by banders. Photo courtesy of Diane Benyus
I monitor the Facebook page of the Anne Arundel (MD) Birding& Bird Club and just saw a post from a member noting that she had seen this banded bird and read the tag number. The group moderator suggested that she report it and gave the link information. Since I know little about the subject, I decided to check it out. (I first observed banding at the North Branch Nature Center and am intrigued about how some birders are great at spotting bands.)
PLEASE NOTE: If the band has the letters “AU”, “IF”, “CU” “NPA” or “IPB” it is probably a captive pigeon band. Please do not report captive pigeon bands to the BBL, we do not keep a database of these birds. You can find more information at: http://www.pigeon.org/lostbirdinfo.htm
When you submit a report, we will provide you the details about when and where the bird was originally marked. A copy of your report will be provided to the researcher who originally applied the band and/or marker.
Your report will be added to a database maintained cooperatively by the USGS Bird Banding Laboratory and Canadian Wildlife Service, Bird Banding Office. This database contains more than 4 million band encounter records that document movements, longevity, and sources of mortality for North America’s migratory birds. This information is used to monitor populations, set hunting regulations, restore endangered species, study effects of environmental contaminants, and address such issues as Avian Influenza, bird hazards at airports, and crop depredations.
Christmas Bird Count participants on the Northhampton, MA count. Photo by Geoff LeBaron.
With this winter’s influx of winter finches and other northern visitors, birders throughout the Northeast have been saying, “I hope that bird stays around for the Christmas Bird Count!” You never know what you are going to find in late December birding but “Hope springs eternal in the human breast” among Vermont Birders for a Northern Hawk Owl or a Varied Thrush. The annual bird count starts in just two weeks.
The Christmas Bird Count came about as a reaction to slaughter. During the late 1800’s, there was a popular holiday tradition known as the Christmas “Side Hunt, a killing binge in which Americans went merrily into the woods to compete in shooting as many birds and small animals as they could within the holiday. People chose sides and went afield with their guns; whoever brought in the biggest pile of feathered (and furred) quarry won.
This was a time when conservation was in its beginning stages and many observers and scientists were becoming concerned about declining bird populations. Beginning on Christmas Day 1900, ornithologist Frank Chapman, an early officer in the then budding Audubon Society, proposed a new holiday tradition-a “Christmas Bird Census”- that would count birds in the holidays rather than hunt them.
So began the Christmas Bird Count. Thanks to the inspiration of Frank M. Chapman and the enthusiasm of twenty-seven dedicated birders, twenty-five Christmas Bird Counts were held that day. The locations ranged from Toronto, Ontario to Pacific Grove, California with most counts in or near the population centers of northeastern North America. Those original 27 Christmas Bird Counters tallied around 90 species on all the counts combined.
The 113th annual Christmas Bird Count involves tens of thousands of participants. This year’s count will take place between Dec 14, 2012 to January 5, 2013. It is the longest running Citizen Science survey in the world, providing critical data on population trends. Volunteers will be out across the nation and hemisphere bagging more than 50 million birds by eyeball.
Each count occurs in a designated circle, 15 miles in diameter, and is led by an experienced birder, or designated “compiler”.
While there is a specific methodology to the CBC and you need to count birds within an existing Christmas Bird Count circle, everyone can participate! If you are a beginning birder, you will be able to join a group that includes at least one experienced birdwatcher. If your home is within the boundaries of a Christmas Bird Count circle, then you can stay home and report the birds that visit your feeder or join a group of birdwatchers in the field. If you have never been on a CBC before and you want to participate in a count this year, including feeder counting, please contact your count compiler prior to the count.
Click here to learn where Vermont CBCs are located, date of counts and compiler contact information. I plan to participate in the Plainfield CBC on December 15th.
