Get ready for the magic of May
(published 4-20-10)

I will never underestimate April – it’s a fabulous month for birding. It’s the best time of year to see sapsuckers and kinglets and creepers and hermit thrushes and fox sparrows and winter wrens. These are among the “classic” April birds we look forward to annually. By the first of May, most of them are gone, pulled north by the migratory urges that dictate their movements.

Yet as all birders know, April is just an appetizer. The main course is May.

Spring migration will soon reach its peak, and that means serious color: warblers, tanagers, grosbeaks, orioles and buntings. Some of these spectacular birds will hang around all summer, raising their families here. But most will not, especially the warblers.

About 30 members of the wood warbler family visit this region between mid-April and June 1. We covet these neotropical migrants for their vivid markings and often complex vocalizations. Finding them and identifying them can be a challenge, but that’s part of the attraction.

See or hear 20 or 25 warbler types this spring and you’ve done very well. If you’re new at this, just seeing a few species will leave you fulfilled—and perhaps wondering why you didn’t start this hobby earlier in life.

A good variety of May warblers will likely visit your backyard—watch your trees and shrubs carefully. Local parks, forest preserves and golf courses are the prime viewing spots, and don’t forget Morton Arboretum. The best strategy is simple: get outside as much as possible. Pick a place and go!

A good way to maximize your birding time is to join a group field trip. Check the websites of the DuPage Birding Club and Kane County Audubon to see all the choices. Both clubs welcome non-members on their trips, and it’s fun to experience the wonders of spring migration with others who are passionate about birds.

Group outings are especially productive for beginners—there’s really no easier way to learn about birds than tagging along with people who enjoy sharing their knowledge. Birders are a sociable lot, and most are eager to assist.

Here’s another idea: Road trip! The Great Lakes region features many “hotspots” that every birdwatcher should visit at least once. In May, some of the best-known venues are holding festivals that combine field trips, workshops, speakers, bird-banding demonstrations and more. These events will be fun for new and veteran birders alike:

The Biggest Week in American Birding, May 6-16, Lake Erie Marsh Region. A handful of sites in Northwest Ohio, including Magee Marsh and Ottawa National Wildlife Refuge, are known collectively as the “Warbler Capital of the World.” In May, the title well deserved. Go there and you can’t miss, plus you’ll get to rub elbows with Kenn Kaufman, a birding celebrity. Details are online at biggestweekinamericanbirding.com.

Horicon Marsh Bird Festival, May 7-10, Horicon, Wis. The black terns and yellow-headed blackbirds are enough for me, but Horicon in May holds way more than just marsh birds and waterfowl. Some 268 species have been observed at this vast and vital wetland preserve. It’s an amazing place, and not so far away. Visit horiconmarshbirdfestival.com.

Kirtland’s Warbler Wildlife Festival, May 15, Roscommon, Mich. See and learn about the rarest warbler of all! Kirtland’s is one warbler that you’ll probably never encounter in DuPage County and it has a fascinating story. A bird that merits its own festival is definitely worth the drive! For details, go to warbler.kirtland.edu.

Copyright 2010 by Jeff Reiter. All rights reserved.
Blackburnian warbler photo by Sue Wagoner

What’s in a name? Sometimes nothing at all
(published 3-31-10)

In 2009, National Audubon Society’s board of directors elected Holt Thrasher as chairman. He succeeded a woman named Carol Browner. So the top leadership went from Browner to Thrasher. At the time, Audubon’s president was John Flicker. I’m not making this up.

Mr. Flicker resigned recently—migrated to another job or into retirement I suppose. It will be interesting to see who replaces him. Audubon’s Missouri office is headed up by Tony Robyn. He seems like an ideal candidate for promotion.

People names can be amusing, and bird names even more so. Scores of non-birders out there seem to love saying “yellow-bellied sapsucker.” It’s a great name, I agree, but why stop there?

The world contains about 10,000 bird species and each has a scientific name and at least one “common name.” Many birds have intriguing nicknames, too.

This is a fun and fascinating aspect of the hobby. I enjoy thinking about how some birds are perfectly named and some not even close. I wonder about – and then try to learn – how certain birds got their names. And always, always, I’m on the watch for dreamlike names such as “superb fairy wren” and “twelve-wired bird of paradise.”

Most bird names are far less exotic and some are probably too plain. Handsome species like the black-and-white warbler and yellow warbler deserve better. I’d change the black-and-white’s name to “zebra warbler” if given the chance.

Oh, I could fix a lot of bird names if the ornithology police would just let me. First on my list would be the red-bellied woodpecker. Anybody seen that red belly lately? “Faint wash of red on belly rarely visible,” says the Sibley field guide. Precisely! When a bird is named after a field mark, let’s choose a field mark that is a little more obvious.

It’s the same issue with orange-crowned warbler. Last October, however, when birding at Morton Arboretum, I got a nice close look at this rather drab warbler. For a second, for the first time ever, I saw an orangish smudge on the bird’s crown. I think.

Red-headed woodpecker, now there’s a well-named bird. It has a red head and it pecks wood. I’m partial to bird names that depict both appearance and behavior. Swallow-tailed kite. Black skimmer. Brown creeper. Yellow-breasted chat. Perfect.

Some bird names give us both a visual and audio clue. Black-capped chickadee, for example, and gray catbird. Others are named after their songs alone. This can work quite well, as with mourning dove, bobwhite and whip-poor-will.

Other times not. I’ve listened to dickcissels but I don’t hear them saying “dickcissel.” Maybe they’re saying I need new ears.

Geographic names can be even more confounding. Some warblers are named after states or cities where they were discovered, presumably during migration. Connecticut warblers are quite rare on the East Coast and do not live in Connecticut at any time during the year. Tennessee warblers do not live in Tennessee. Nashville warblers do not sing country music songs and could just as easily been named after Peoria or Milwaukee. It was chance, nothing more.

Baltimore oriole makes more sense. The species was named for the first baron of Baltimore and founder of Maryland, George Calvert. His family colors were orange and black, like the bird. If his colors had been black and purple, we might now have a Baltimore grackle.

If I may pick one more bone, let’s make it the magnolia warbler. This is a beautiful bird to watch for in May as it migrates through our region. But don’t get too focused on magnolia trees. “Maggies” are just as likely to appear in maples and oaks.

Alexander Wilson, known as “the father of American ornithology,” collected the type specimen. When he shot it, the victim happened to be perched in a magnolia.
I wouldn’t suggest that we change a lot of bird names, especially the ones based on random occurrences. That would be tampering with history. Discussing bird names would also be a lot less fun. Just be aware that the common names given to birds often have no connection with science.

For more on this subject, check out “Dictionary of Birds of the United States,” by Joel Ellis Holloway, and “100 Birds and How They Got Their Names,” by Diana Wells. Each book is loaded with interesting facts and anecdotes.

Copyright 2010 by Jeff Reiter. All rights reserved.
Magnolia warbler photo by Sue Wagoner

Everyday beauty: Watching the cardinals
(published 3-3-10)

Want to feel better about your car, especially if you drive a Toyota? Here’s my advice: Get a pair of those Illinois license plates with our state bird, the northern cardinal.

In December I finally took the plunge, plunking down $70.44 for the state’s “environmental” tags. Hopefully some of that money actually does some good. But I know this, my 2003 Corolla has never looked better. Recall my car if you must, just don’t mess with my plates!

The cardinal is an easy bird to like. John James Audubon, referring to the “cardinal grosbeak,” said it best: “In richness of plumage, elegance of motion, and strength of song, this species surpasses all its kindred in the United States.”

By sight and sound, we know this bird well. Cardinals are reliable backyard visitors and impossible not to notice. Since mid-February, on clear mornings, maybe you too have heard the males singing from high perches. Their loud, clear whistle is one of the best harbingers of spring.

Yet cardinals are so common, so expected, most of us take them for granted. For this column, I decided to learn more about them. Here are a dozen things about redbirds that perhaps you didn’t know:

1) The highest concentration of cardinals in the U.S. is thought to be in Louisiana and Mississippi, reflecting the fact that our “northern” cardinal was once a predominantly southern species. Northward range expansion began in the 1800s and accelerated in the 20th century.
2) Cardinals (or “Virginia nightingales”) were once commonly trapped in the south and sold as cage birds. Many were shipped to Europe.
3) Cardinals sing 8 to 10 different songs. A robin may sing 70!
4) Both males and females sing when nesting time approaches. Female cardinals sing from the nest when they’re hungry, so the male knows to bring her food. You may even hear a cardinal in the middle of the night—if you do, it’s probably a female.
5) The oldest cardinal on record lived 15 years. A typical life span is 2 or 3 years.
6) Cardinals generally stay put. They are non-migratory and may range only a few miles during their entire lifetimes.
7) Cardinals are loyal mates with strong pair bonds. This spring, watch for the so-called “courtship kiss” when a male passes a seed from his bill to the female’s bill.
8) Cardinals are attentive parents. Unfortunately they raise a lot of cowbirds, too. (The brown-headed cowbird lays its eggs in other species’ nests.)
9) Cardinal territories are typically 2 to 10 acres and males defend them aggressively. In winter, they are not as territorial and form feeding flocks.
10) A cardinal’s foremost food and nest site competitor is the gray catbird.
11) Juvenile cardinals have dark bills and a plain face (no black mask).
12) The female cardinal has a country music theme song: “She Don’t Know She’s Beautiful,” by Sammy Kershaw.

OK, I made that last one up. But please make a point to examine the female closely, from head to tail. The beauty of her subtle coloration is undeniable.

Naturally the flaming-red male gets all the attention. And small wonder the cardinal is the most popular state bird by far. Kentucky adopted it in 1926, and six more states followed.

Ohio is a cardinal state too, but I possess a cherished piece of birding memorabilia that claims otherwise. A few years ago, during a stop along the turnpike, my son and I paused at one of those machines that press an image onto a penny. Jay has a collection of flattened coins stamped with places we’ve been or things we’ve seen (he loves turning the crank). At this particular machine near Toledo, one of the imprint options was “Ohio State Bird: Black-Crowned Night Heron.” Say what? Does the governor know about this? I love night herons, but I’m quite sure the species was never a Buckeye State icon!

For Ohio, Illinois and the other states, the northern cardinal was a good choice. The species deserves our admiration. And like many other common birds, it merits closer observation. Let’s watch our cardinals more carefully, and listen to their calls and songs with a keener ear. For birders of every ability level, cardinals offer one of the most conspicuous backyard learning opportunities around.

Copyright 2010 by Jeff Reiter. All rights reserved.
Female cardinal photo by Lori Indovina-Valus

Bald eagles in DuPage? Absolutely!
(published 2-1-10)

It doesn’t take much to get me thinking about eagles. The latest trigger was the cover of Audubon. It shows two sparring bald eagles, the spectacular Grand Prize-winning image in the magazine’s inaugural photo awards.

Most people love eagles, and not just birders. Is there an American over age 4 that would not recognize one? Best of all, their population is growing. The odds of seeing a wild bald eagle here in DuPage County have never been better.

Last September, at Ottawa National Wildlife Refuge near Toledo, the first bird I spotted was a bald eagle on the wing. Was this a trained bird, commissioned to greet and impress first-time refuge visitors like me? No, the bird was simply patrolling its home territory—one of several resident eagles at Ottawa.

It was also the first eagle I’d ever seen in Ohio, my home state.

As a young boy in Canton, a flyover flock of Canada geese was an exciting and somewhat rare occasion. We’d stop what we were doing to marvel at the occasional V-formation. But the chances of a bald eagle sighting were zero. In the 1970s the species was fighting for its very survival. Pesticide poisoning had pushed our national symbol to the brink of extinction.

Fortunately, some smart people acted just in time. DDT was banned in 1972, and the Endangered Species Act debuted a year later. These steps allowed bald eagles to stage a remarkable comeback that continues today. The species has been off the federal list of endangered and threatened wildlife since 2007.

On the Dec. 19 Christmas Bird Count, seven bald eagles were spotted in DuPage and eastern Kane counties. The sightings were mostly along the Fox River, but one occurred at Blackwell Forest Preserve in Warrenville.

At Greene Valley Forest Preserve in Naperville, where the DuPage Birding Club studies raptor migration each fall from the top of the landfill “mountain,” some 21 bald eagles were sighted during the 2009 count period. Three golden eagles flew over too!

Of course I dream of spotting an eagle soaring high over my yard. Hey, it could happen.

It did happen for Candace Barry outside her home in West Chicago. She encountered a baldy last October when taking pictures of the fall color. She first saw it on the ground just 50 yards away and then managed a few good photos of the bird in flight.
“I truly felt blessed to walk out and find an eagle,” Candace told me. “My dad saw one about 60 years ago in his backyard and I always thought that was a great story. I never imagined I would have my own to tell.”

Of course, for most of us, a backyard eagle is a long shot. We’ll need lots of patience and luck. But what about seeing an eagle now? We have some options.

Rather unbelievably, a few birds can be viewed this time of year at the Little Calumet River on the far south side of Chicago. They’ve been visiting every winter since 2004 according to Joe Lill of the Chicago Audubon Society. The 9th Ward, not known for its scenic beauty, treats the eagles like celebrities.

The Mississippi and Illinois Rivers are even more of a sure thing. In winter, bald eagles congregate near the locks and dams, grabbing fish where the water stays open. For anyone who appreciates nature it’s a spectacle not to be missed.

The nearest highly reliable viewing place is Starved Rock State Park in Utica, about 85 miles south of central DuPage County. For some excellent eagle watching, go to the Illinois Waterway Visitors Center between now and early March. The center is located at lock and dam #4 on the Illinois River, across from the park. More information is online at flocktotherock.com or call 800-746-0550.

Meanwhile, don’t give up on adding a bald eagle to your yard list. Broadly speaking, the birds are most definitely in the neighborhood.

Copyright 2010 by Jeff Reiter. All rights reserved.
Eagle photo by Candace Barry

Florida trip ends with a surprise
(published 1-8-10)

It turns out my only “lifer” of the trip was a nonnative member of the starling family, picked up at a McDonald’s like a cheap bag of fries. But I’ll take it. In Florida I’ll take anything with wings.

Besides, this wasn’t a birding trip. My visit to Key Largo last month was triggered by a broken leg. Not mine, my dad’s. He needed help, and so did mom, so my brother and I went down to assist. I packed my binoculars but didn’t expect to use them much.

Yeah, right. This is Florida—warm, tropical and always birdy. When I go there I’m constantly checking the skies for magnificent frigatebirds and short-tailed hawks, scanning the treetops for white-crowned pigeons, and eyeing the roadside swamps for herons, egrets, anhingas, spoonbills and wood storks. These and other Florida specialties are conspicuous, even from a moving car.

Hour for hour, I’ve birded in Florida more than any other state except Illinois. Some of my best birding memories are from Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary, the Everglades and Dry Tortugas National Park. I keep a list of birds seen in Florida and enjoy the challenge of adding to it.

In December my big opportunity was a visit to Loxahatchee National Wildlife Refuge, 12 miles west of Boynton Beach in Palm Beach County. I’d heard good things about it and was eager to spend a whole afternoon outside. Maybe I’d even find a few new species like smooth-billed ani and fulvous whistling duck. These and lots of other avian goodies were certainly possible, and no matter what I was sure to see a lot of birds.

Loxahatchee consists of 145,000 acres of vital habitat in the northern Everglades. Only a small portion is open to the public—a series of wetland “impoundments” where water levels are closely regulated by the preserve. Birders walk along the edges of these managed areas, on the dikes, affording an open and slightly elevated view of the surroundings. The panorama is fascinating, with ponds, canals and sawgrass marshes teeming with birdlife.

I’d noticed a snail kite perched on a power line just before turning into the preserve from US-441. A good start! There are probably less than 1,000 snail kites remaining in Florida—an endangered species that all birders hope to see and one I’d only chanced upon once before. Loxahatchee has several nesting pairs.

The preserve’s visitor center shows a truly excellent film about the Everglades and what’s being done to save what remains of this one-of-a-kind ecosystem. Still, as it played, I couldn’t keep from paging through the refuge bird list that I’d picked up at the information desk. Outside there were amazing birds to be seen and I only had a few hours to find them. What was I doing inside a theater? And why was I the only one? It was time to go.

A nice boardwalk trail through a cypress swamp is behind the visitor center. But for birders, the main attraction is the Marsh Trail and other pathways around the impoundments. Within an hour I’d spotted three more species that I’d only seen once before—mottled duck, glossy ibis and limpkin. Those sightings alone, combined with the snail kite, made my day. And because this was Florida, egrets, herons, anhingas, kingfishers and moorhens were everywhere. Turkey vultures were constant companions too, swirling overhead all afternoon along with a few black vultures. A red-shouldered hawk zipped by at close range, an osprey hovered over some potential prey, and off in the distance a brownish heron descended and disappeared in the sawgrass. I saw that bird’s dark wingtips just in time to know it was an American bittern.

After three hours of birding that seemed like 30 minutes, it was time to drive back to Key Largo. My Loxahatchee bird list had 40 checks, and two of the species, painted bunting and monk parakeet, were new additions for my all-time Florida list. It was a great afternoon, and I’ll surely replay it this winter when I need a little warmth.

I’ll also recall my final “life bird” of 2009, acquired quite unexpectedly at the very end of my trip. It happened when I stopped to gas up the rental car on my way to the Miami airport. I was in a place called Florida City according to my Texaco receipt. Pulling out of the station I noticed some birds up on the power lines. They looked like starlings but one seemed different. So I crossed US-1 and pulled into a McDonald’s parking lot. Working fast, I popped open the trunk and dug out my binoculars and Sibley guide. I refound the bird and knew instantly it was something I’d never seen before. Sibley confirmed it was a common myna, an import from southern Asia.

But was this a “countable” bird? Could I add it to my life list? South Florida is home to many exotic (non-native) species and only those with self-sustaining wild populations are recognized by the American Birding Association, our hobby’s rule-making body. I’d need to do some checking. The life bird dance was on hold.

Back in Glen Ellyn, a copy of ABA’s December newsletter was waiting in a week’s worth of mail. No kidding, on page 6 was an article titled “Finding Common Myna in southern Florida.” The piece by Bill Pranty—the man who literally wrote the book on Florida birding—had all the information I needed. Yes, common myna was officially countable—it’s among 12 exotic species in Florida now considered “established” in the wild by ABA—and Florida City was mentioned as one of the best places to find one. “Check the parking lots of the restaurants and gas stations,” Pranty advised.

At the bottom of the page was a pen and ink drawing of a common myna on the ground, eating a French fry. I’m glad not to have witnessed that particular scenario. As a birder, spotting the bird on a utility wire, mingling with the local starlings, was slightly more palatable.

Copyright 2010 by Jeff Reiter. All rights reserved.
Common myna photo by Vivek Tiwari

Keep a close eye on your thistle feeder
(published 12-14-09)

February 1 was one of my best memories of 2009. It was Super Sunday, when the Steelers defeated the Arizona Cardinals 27 to 23.

Thing is, I’m not from Pittsburgh, not a Steelers fan and not a big football watcher. I did witness parts of the big game and confess to watching that goofy halftime show with Bruce Springsteen. But by then my day was already made: I’d seen something way more exciting.

I first noticed the birds from an upstairs window. By their size and shape I assumed they were pine siskins—not an everyday species in my backyard. So I hustled downstairs to get a better look. That’s when my eyes nearly bugged out. Right there, enjoying a mid-winter snack on my thistle feeder, were three finches wearing little crimson caps. Common redpolls!

Having lived here for 12 years, avian surprises of this magnitude are few. This was a backyard first, and only the third time I’d ever seen redpolls anywhere.

Redpolls and siskins are members of a group we call the winter finches. They are “irruptive species,” meaning they sometimes appear here in great numbers. The key word is sometimes. It all depends on the winter food supply on their northern breeding grounds. If the cone and seed crop is good, they may never leave Canada. But when food is scarce, the birds wander south in nomadic flocks. It’s during those winters that our thistle (or niger) feeders become finch magnets.

So be ready, and keep your feeders full. The goldfinches will love you for it, of course, and with luck so might a common redpoll, pine siskin or purple finch. These species were widely reported in our region last winter.

Another coveted winter finch, the white-winged crossbill, also “irrupted” here in 2009. This species was fairly easy to find if you went looking for it—but not at feeders. White-wings prefer conifers. They dine in trees or on the ground, picking at cones. Morton Arboretum is one of the best local spots to observe them, in the hemlocks and spruces.

Siskins, on the other hand, could become daily customers if you keep a thistle feeder. This winter, look closely for siskins, purple finches and redpolls. If you don’t already know these species, look them up in a field guide so you are well prepared. They are not difficult to identify, but they are not flashy either, so you need to be alert.

The first siskin I ever saw was on my thistle feeder—still my only “backyard lifer.” But the “Super redpolls” last winter thrilled me even more. I’d waited so darn long for those guys.

The redpolls, unfortunately, disappeared after 20 minutes and never returned—at least not when I was watching. Thistle feeders all over the region, however, continued to pull them in throughout February, delighting birders and surely adding to many a life list. The feeder at Cantigny Park in Wheaton hosted redpolls right into early March.

If you have birch or alder trees in your yard, watch those too. Redpolls love the seed catkins.

Will this winter provide similar viewing opportunities? Well, a widely watched winter finch forecast says probably not. The report, published annually by Canadian ornithologist Ron Pittaway, indicates that natural food sources will be plentiful in the far north. So the winter finches may not need our handouts.

Yet birding, thankfully, isn’t always so predictable. Even in “non-irruptive” years there are certainly redpolls, purple finches, siskins and crossbills in the area. Not as many, but some. It’s our duty as birders to keep an eye out for them.

Copyright 2009 Jeff Reiter. All rights reserved.
Redpoll photo by Jim Frazier

When birding, nothing beats a good ear
(published 11-16-09)

Have you seen and heard the kinglet? If not, the finer inner world of nature is a sealed book to you. When your senses take in the kinglet they will take in a thousand other objects that now escape you.

These words are from an essay by the naturalist John Burroughs, written in 1899. His point is just as valid today. That is, there’s much more to learn and discover if we tune in a little more closely.

Birding is about hearing, not just seeing. For many, including me, learning bird calls and songs is the next frontier, the essential next step in skill development and a path to enjoying the hobby even more.

I’m often reminded of my own shortcomings in this area. Last month, while leading a bird walk at Cantigny Park in Wheaton, I was upstaged by an 11-year-old boy. As we walked he picked out the song of a yellow-throated vireo. Sure enough, a few moments later we were watching the bird.

I never mind being upstaged—bird walks are cooperative efforts. And I’m always happy to see young birders. Sadly, they are as scarce as cerulean warblers in these parts. So it was both pleasing and impressive when the boy at Cantigny found that vireo for the group. He had “a good ear,” as birders say, and we all benefited.

We know that young people generally have better hearing than older people, and their memories are better, too. The Cantigny Kid heard that vireo song before and remembered it.

The rest of us might need to work harder at this. Making a correct ID often depends entirely on knowing a bird’s call or song. Sometimes we never see the bird.

On that same Cantigny walk, somebody asked if birds that we hear but do not see are “countable.” Good question, and my answer to it is always yes.

If you hear a bird, and you’re 100% sure about what it is, why would you not count it? There’s one species on my yard list that I’ve still never seen—Eastern screech owl. When it calls there is no mistaking this nocturnal sprite, and it’s always a thrill when one visits the neighborhood.

Counting “heard birds” is also the right thing to do. Kenn Kaufman wrote a thoughtful column about this in Bird Watcher’s Digest. Too often, he said, overly enthusiastic birders create stress for birds when they attempt to further validate an ID by getting a visual.

They might march through a swamp to flush a secretive rail, or play a recording over and over to lure an elusive warbler into view. Not good!

Fortunately, most birders feel that when out watching birds, we are the guests. We behave responsibly and show respect for the birds. We stay on the trail and minimize our impact on their space.

This approach places a premium on good listening skills, and there are many resources to help you improve. I’ve mentioned one before: the “Birding by Ear” CDs from Peterson Field Guides. The CDs are low tech compared with other options but they are far from obsolete.

I’m also a fan of the Cornell Lab of Ornithology website—the All About Birds section in particular. With a few clicks you can hear any bird in North America. Go to www.birds.cornell.edu.

If you own an iPod, iPod Touch or iPhone, some powerful apps are waiting. Software like birdJam and iBird Explorer can turn your device into an electronic field guide, complete with pictures, text, range maps and songs. Within seconds, you can check a bird’s ID based on sound or sight.

Some of my friends are devoted birdJam or iBird users. They love the convenience, portability and speed of their gadgets. Most of all, they love playing those bird songs. The technology is very slick.

Me, I’m still birding the old-fashioned way. In the field, all I really want is a good pair of binoculars and some interesting birds. If those birds are making noise, even better. I’ll be listening, enjoying and always learning. The Apple Store can wait.

Copyright 2009 by Jeff Reiter. All rights reserved.

Midwest Birding Symposium gets a special visitor
(published 10-7-09)

Last month’s Midwest Birding Symposium in Ohio attracted just over 800 bird nerds like me and many of the biggest names in the hobby—Kenn Kaufman, David Sibley, Scott Weidensaul, Bill Thompson and Julie Zickefoose among them.

Even Jane Alexander, the actress, gave a talk, proving that people in the public eye occasionally do come forward and confess their passion for watching birds.

The Symposium’s most notable guest, however, was a big surprise. He kept a low profile and didn’t attend the scheduled events but still created quite a stir. A Kirtland’s Warbler will tend to do that.

The male bird was discovered in a park about five miles away from the convention, which took place in Lakeside, just east of Toledo. Word of the sighting spread quickly, causing many Symposium participants to “blow off classes” and chase the bird instead.

Kirtland’s Warbler is our nation’s rarest songbird, an endangered species that all birders long to see. It’s actually not a difficult bird to observe, but only if you visit the bird’s primary breeding grounds in north central Michigan.

Seeing a Kirtland’s during migration, however, is a long shot. The species is virtually invisible as it travels to its winter home in the Bahamas. It’s slightly ironic, therefore, that the species was actually discovered in Ohio—in 1851, by a man named Kirtland. It took another 52 years before anyone found the warbler’s nesting territory in Michigan.

Over the years there have been occasional Kirtland’s sightings along the Chicago lakeshore, causing the local birding community to go bonkers. So you can imagine the excitement we felt at Lakeside—a rare opportunity to see a very rare bird!

I’d seen the Kirtland’s before, near Mio, Michigan, in 1999. But, of course, I was craving another look. And to see the species in Ohio, my home state, would be a nice bonus.

I arrived at the Symposium on Friday around noon. By then, Kirtland’s fever was in full bloom. A decision had to be made—go for the bird or go to the afternoon seminars? Having birded all morning at Ottawa National Wildlife Refuge, I elected to stay in Lakeside and enjoy the event I’d driven 300 miles to attend. Maybe this was a mistake.

Plenty of birders saw the Kirtland’s that afternoon. At dinner, the most common question was “Did you see it?” And if you hadn’t, would you be trying for it in the morning? For me the answer was easy.

So there I was the next day at 7 a.m., participating in a classic stake-out. Seriously, that’s what it’s called when birders gather to find a previously spotted rarity. Scraps of paper with handwritten notes littered the trail, each indicating the time and place where the Kirtland’s was sighted the day before. Some people who’d already seen the bird were back again, pointing to trees and shrubs where the Symposium’s guest of honor had perched just 12 hours earlier.

After an hour of waiting and searching and no bird, the stake-out began to break down. Patience was running thin, and some good breakfast spots were just down the road. The warbler, most of us conceded, was likely a one-day wonder. Unlucky for us, that day was yesterday.

Oh well, now I have a good excuse to make a return visit to “Kirtland’s territory” in Michigan. And—great news—the bird is getting easier to see! Intense and ongoing habitat management efforts are paying off big.

In 2008, the Kirtland’s Warbler breeding population in Michigan was estimated to be 3,600—up tenfold from 20 years ago. Once on the brink of extinction, the lemon-breasted warbler has staged an amazing recovery.

If birders and conservationists had their way, Michigan’s official state bird would be Kirtland's Warbler and not American Robin. Maybe Jane Alexander can have a chat with the governor.

In the meantime, make plans to go witness a Kirtland’s warbler next spring. An excellent opportunity is the Kirtland’s Warbler Festival in Roscommon, Mich., held the first full weekend in June. You can see the bird and learn its fascinating story. 

Copyright 2009 by Jeff Reiter. All rights reserved.
Kirtland's Warbler photo by Ron Austing

New book examines life and The List
(published 9-8-09)

My mother, naturally a loyal follower of Words on Birds, recently chided me about the term “life list.” She said it seems to appear in all of my columns. I then reminded her that I’m a birder.

I’m also a reader, and this has been an exceptional year for books on birds and birding. Last winter I wrote about “Birdwatcher,” the new biography on Roger Tory Peterson. Today—get ready for this Mom—the topic is “Life List,” by Olivia Gentile. It’s a well-told story about the life of Phoebe Snetsinger, the first person to see 8,000 species of birds. Since her death in 1999, only two birders have surpassed her final total of 8,398. (There are roughly 10,200 known species in the world; it’s unlikely anyone will ever see them all.)

“Life List,” as you can imagine, is largely about obsession. The book’s subhead reads “A Woman’s Quest for the World’s Most Amazing Birds.” Birders eat these books up, and so do a few non-birders. There’s something compelling about stories of people who go over the edge in all-out pursuit of a passion, in this case birding. We want to know where they went and what they saw. Some, like me, want to know how they got away with it.

No birder I know can resist Kenn Kaufman’s “Kingbird Highway,” published in 1997. Subhead: The Story of a Natural Obsession That Got a Little Out of Hand. Then came “The Big Year,” by Mark Obmascik. Subhead: A Tale of Man, Nature, and Fowl Obsession. These books were about one-year bird chases around the U.S. Most recently, we gobbled up “To See Every Bird On Earth,” by Dan Koeppel. Subhead: A Father, a Son, and a Lifelong Obsession. There’s that o-word again—do I detect a pattern?

I strongly recommend the three books just mentioned. They entertain and inform, and each is well written. But “Life List” is something else—an exceptional biography in every way. I can see it appealing to people who don’t give a hoot about birding. In fact, it has all the elements to make a really good movie—perhaps the first major motion picture with a bird-theme since March of the Penguins in 2005. But that film was about birds. This one would be about birding, and a woman who took “competitive listing” to a new level.

Phoebe Snetsinger’s autobiography was published posthumously in 2003 by the American Birding Association. It was called “Birding on Borrowed Time,” a reference to the cancer diagnosis Snetsinger received at age 49. Doctors gave her one year to live.
The autobiography was essentially a travelogue—interesting in parts, a little dull in others. At least the cover was nice. It shows a male Blackburnian warbler, the “spark bird” that hooked Snetsinger on birding.

“Life List” goes a lot deeper and gets personal. Gentile contacted dozens of people who knew Phoebe well, including family members. Turns out she wasn’t as one-dimensional as some might think. She was obsessed with bird listing, certainly, and that poisoned her marriage and alienated her children. Snetsigner even skipped her mother’s funeral and a daughter’s wedding due to previously scheduled international birding trips. Ouch. But “Life List” also reveals a warm side. She was a willing teacher with a kind heart. She had many friends.

Phoebe spent her childhood in the Chicago area. She was the daughter of Leo Burnett, a giant in the advertising world. This adds yet another interesting layer to Gentile’s book.

And there are so many layers. The cancer “death sentence,” of course, and also the sexual assault that Snetsinger suffered on a birding trip to New Guinea. Even that didn’t slow her down. She continued putting her safety and health at risk while traveling the globe in search of new birds.
Melanoma never did claim Snetsinger’s life. Fittingly, she died with her binoculars on, the victim of a rollover van crash in Madagascar. She was 68.

I can’t say enough about “Life List.” It is simply a fascinating book, superbly written and researched. Every birder should read it.

Olivia Gentile will speak about her book and sign copies on Tuesday, Oct. 27, at the Evanston Ecology Center. The evening talk is sponsored by the Evanston North Shore Bird Club and open to the public. For details, visit ensbc.org.

Copyright 2009 by Jeff Reiter. All rights reserved.

Twitching away my summer vacation
(published 8-18-09)

I’m no different than most birders—the thrill of discovery is a big motivator, and so is the satisfaction of building my life list. I’ll gladly visit the local sewage treatment plant if that’s where the birds are. And sometimes that is where the birds are.

Nicer destinations are required when other family members are involved. They are not birders. So in July we splurged on two weeks in London, Ireland and Northern Ireland. It wasn’t Costa Rica, still my dream trip, but it wasn’t the backyard either, which can be kind of slow in mid-summer. New birds awaited me in the land where birders are known as twitchers and where common birds like robins, goldfinches and jays look nothing like the ones in DuPage County.

Our first five days were in London, my first time there as a birder. Early each morning I slipped out to survey the local birdlife in the big city parks. Hyde Park was a short walk from our hotel, as was a smaller one called Green Park, near Buckingham Palace. A third park, Regent’s, was an easy Tube (subway) ride away and offered the best birding.

When so much is new, the birding is bound to be great. A few of my favorite sightings were great-crested grebe, little grebe, long-tailed tit (along with blue tit, great tit and coal tit), blackcap and jay. Two species, green woodpecker and great-spotted woodpecker, caught me by surprise. They were not in the small field guide that I’d studied on the plane. No wonder—the book I had was for Ireland’s birds, used on a previous trip. Turns out these woodpeckers, while common in London, hardly ever cross the Irish Sea.

I needed a field guide for British birds, so I headed over to Foley’s. What an eye-opener that was. The store had a section labeled Ornithology. I counted 28 shelves of bird books, 18 of them devoted to field guides for other countries. I’ve never seen a display like this in the U.S. and it spoke volumes, literally, about the depth of England’s birding culture.

More clues were in Birdwatch, a London-based journal. It’s published monthly—unlike any birding magazines we have here—and from the content it’s clear that the Brits take their birding seriously. Really seriously. My favorite piece was a closing column called “punkbirder,” where the unidentified author—pictured only in silhouette, with spiky hair, peering through a spotting scope—extolled the many virtues of birding one’s “local patch.”

I’m not planning a change in hairstyle but I might shout “blimey!” next time I find a rare bird.

Ireland was a peaceful contrast to bustling London. That was nice—quiet birding in beautiful surroundings is hard to beat. My partially Irish eyes were especially eager for the spectacular rocky coastline and the birds that call it home.
But first, some good inland birding awaited in places like Enniskillen, Rathmullen and Glenveagh National Park. At the latter, in County Donegal, a peanut feeder outside a small nature center was swarming with chaffinches (supposedly the most common bird in Ireland) and siskins. I was most interested in the siskins, which are quite different than the pine siskins we have here. A staff naturalist told me that grey wagtails were on the grounds too, but my brief search for that species was unsuccessful. In Donegal Town, I spotted my first goldcrest (related to our kinglets) and willow warbler, an abundant summer resident.

In Northern Ireland, in the little whiskey town of Bushmills, I found my grey wagtails. Actually a pair. The next day we ventured to the Giant’s Causeway, the famous rock formation on the north coast. We were blessed with nice weather and that surely aided my bird quest. Oystercatchers and curlews were feeding on the rocky beach, and huge gannets soared over the open water. As we walked, a bird I’d never seen before landed on some nearby boulders. It was a whinchat, and soon some stonechats appeared as well. Life birds each of them, along with a rock pipit for good measure.

Further down the coastal road we stopped at another popular cliffside attraction. Soon I was eye-to-eye with northern fulmars, a gull-like species I’d observed at the Cliffs of Moher back in 1996. This time the birds seemed close enough to touch. I could clearly see their tube-shaped nostrils, an adaptation for excreting excess salt.

The red-billed chough, a rare member of the crow family, eluded me. (As the Punk Birder would say, I dipped on it.) I’ll need to go looking again someday, hopefully with enough Euros in my wallet to hire a local guide who knows exactly where to search. Maybe he can show me a corncrake and a lapwing, too.

For the entire trip, I spotted 65 species of birds. Of those, 25 were “lifers”—certainly more than I’d been expecting. Then again, I put in a lot of hours. Maybe I should have seen even more. Hey, wait a minute, I did! This wasn’t just about the birds, it was about all the things I saw in London and in a half-dozen Irish villages when most of the locals were still asleep.

I’d have missed a lot if I wasn’t a birder. For all of us, isn’t that the bloody truth?

Copyright 2009 by Jeff Reiter. All rights reserved.