Bird Brain

Some are born birders. Some achieve birding. Others have birding thrust upon them. 

How does one fit into this scheme? In possession of a true talent? As a natural naturalist? Or more humbly as a mere "bird-watcher"? A casual observer? 

Keeping a lonely, silent watch for avian activity this weekend, I pondered these questions. You see, for the first time, I became a participant in the "Great Backyard Bird Count." Binoculars at the ready. My worn copy of "Roger Tory Peterson Guide to Western Birds" at my side. My eyes glued to the skies and tree branches.

More on that in a moment.

In 1998, by the Cornell Lab of Ornithology and the National Audubon Society, launched the GBBC, in a project they call a "citizen science." Bird enthusiasts from all over the world are welcome to count the birds they see and feed the data into the GBBC web site. Numbers compiled from this one weekend help to inform an overall snapshot of the abundance of birds, their migrations, and the distribution of the world's avian population. I counted birds on all four specified days, February 15-18, watching from my living room window, walking the beach, and strolling through parks. In all, I recorded 16 species — and it might have been so many more if it hadn't been so darned chilly. Birds that came visiting when it was warmer a few weeks ago just weren't showing up. I'm convinced the little bird brains flew back south to be counted elsewhere.

The global count for 2019 came in at 101,464 check lists submitted from 172 countries, 5,693 species identified, and 16,754,577 individual birds counted. As for me, out of that 101,464 lists, my ranking was 19,777. That's a feather in a newbie's cap, thank you very much! 

So, how did I get started as a bird watcher, you ask? I came to birding via my mother. She was tickled pink when anything more interesting than a House Sparrow would show up at our bird feeder. Any calm Sunday afternoon could be shattered — repeatedly — by Dad calling out, "There's your hummingbird, Mother!" and she'd be all a-flutter, flying to the window to catch a glimpse of the tiny quivering creature sipping from a red plastic flower on a feeder she had filled with sugar water. 

She shared her ornithological interest with a friend, telephoning each other if they saw something unusual. We began to tease her about Bird Alerts — that she and her pal would be called out, wearing pith helmets and khaki Dian Fossey outfits, carrying giant, high-powered binoculars, and driving a yellow Volkswagen bug with police siren atop, "whoop, whoop, whooping," as they arrived at rare sightings. 

Mum's enthusiasm— and mine — grew as we learned the identity of our backyard visitors from a bird book. I was a teen when I started my Life List. A nerdy activity, but there you have it — I was a nerdy kid. But now, after all these years of experience, I can name dozens of feathered friends, and it is still a thrill to spot a bird that I can't identify until I've looked it up in my Peterson. It gives me great satisfaction to enter a check mark in the tattered book's index. 

Some folks are way more obsessive. They travel the world in pursuit of birds. Their Life Lists are throughly checked off. They may even risk life and limb on bird watching expeditions to capture a rare sighting. These are the Birders. They may even pursue it competitively as shown in a feature-length film, "The Big Year," which came out in 2011. Based on a true story about three friendly rivals who set out to see who could identify the most birds in one year, it's a race to be named Best Birder. That honor for the 2019 GBBC surely goes to a professional bird watching guide in Ecuador whose 918 reports totaled 1,152 species. Wow. I can't even count that high! 

I prefer the other type of bird watching — the meditative variety. In this model, the sight of a straggly, fluttering flock of Bushtits makes me giggle. A majestic Bald Eagle soaring overhead fills me with awe. A robin pulling a fat worm out of the garden warms my heart and makes me think of my mother. 

Bird watching is a way to connect with Nature. To slow down. To be thankful for the beauty and variety of all God's creatures. To instill wonder.

This weekend I counted birds.