everyone is a birder
So, which is your joy? You’d probably choose your loyalty based on your number one reason for birding. Perhaps if you like collecting lifers or creating check lists or enjoying the technicality behind categorizing species, then you’d put yourself on the identification team. Whereas maybe if you’re a new birder or you find often find yourself fascinated by common birds or birding without documenting your sightings then maybe you’d gravitate towards team appreciation.
If you’re also unsure, a great question to ask yourself that can help you figure out your whole reason for birding is this: what have your most memorable birding experiences been? What joys came from each?
To be honest, as I ponder this, I’m quite torn. Perhaps the only way to determine my loyalty is to reflect. So let me share with you a few of my favorite bird stories….
Colorado, as it so often does, disappointed us with it’s temperamental weather. First day of summer and we had wind, rain, and temperatures so low we could see our breath. But would this cancel the outdoor wedding reception? Absolutely not.
Everyone was busy eating when a screech sounded from a nearby tree. I was a novice birder, but I knew enough to determine the source of this call was likely a corvid (a crow, jay, or raven)
Once it jumped out, it couldn’t be missed. Brilliant blue feathers. A punky mohawk like a Blue Jay. A fully black cap.
“What the heck is that?!”
I startled the guests with my comment. It was just a bird, but it took everyone several seconds to rule out danger as the reason for my exclamation. And at that point—either out of surprise that I’d be so interested in a bird, or lack of knowledge—they dismissed me.
So I couldn’t ID this mysterious Colorado Jay thing. I hadn’t even seen a photo of one like it. This left me with nothing to do but watch it.
The bird hopped from tree to tree, stopping on branches, surveying the surroundings. It opened its beak wide to let out one screechy caw at a time. Everyone else was oblivious to its charm, but I was preoccupied watching it inch closer between the balding branches of these mountain trees. To me, this bird was a special occasion.
After some research after the fact, I now know it was a Steller’s Jay. Definitely not an NC bird!
Another lifer story, but at the time, I had no idea this was a new bird.
Let’s go to Lake Benson Park in Garner for this story….
Tap tap tap tap.
I threaded through the trees towards the sound.
After a few false culprits, I spotted its silhouette shuffling around a branch in the treetops. A Downy Woodpecker. It paused for just a moment to hack away at the bark. Just as I got it sighted and focused in my camera, it flitted away to a nearby branch.
And so it began. I’d scan the trees for the bird, thinking I’d lost it. Tap tap tap. The branches rippled.
Marco. Polo. I just kept missing it.
I had to circle the tree to finally get it in frame. There, I was not only able to get a good video and confidently ID it, but by using my magnification setting–and getting creative–I was able to get a MUCH closer look, a perspective I documented on my phone:
Thanks to that hack, I’m now confident she was actually a Hairy Woodpecker (larger size, longer bill, all white outer tail feathers). A lifer for me at the time.
Then there was this close encounter….
Nothing promises good birding like a lake in the middle of the woods during peak migration–and courting–season. For a novice birder like myself, it was a time to thrive. So for my second birding outing EVER, I took my sister out for her first.
I heard his call, the only call in my sound repertoire at the time. Those down-slurring whistles, the skipping sounds that followed. A Northern Cardinal was very close, probably hidden up in the trees somewhere….
I spotted him framed in the branches not fifteen feet from us. He was so close we could watch him tilt his head back to sing, his tufted feathers flattening on his head as he looked around. Through binoculars, my sister caught the ashy gray feathers on his wing. And I recorded that little video.
A common bird, one of the most prominent in North Carolina—the first bird I learned to identify—created such a captivating spectacle that highlighted my birding outing, even more so than my grand total of over ten species I’d captured on video that day.
So, what can be said about all these stories? Were these instances of identification or appreciation?
With the Steller’s Jay, I was certainly just appreciating since I was in no position to ID it. But was the uncertainty of the species actually what heightened my joy in seeing it, the fact that I was looking at a bird that I knew I’d never seen before and I was excited to learn what it was?
The Woodpecker was an appreciation story. But did learning later that it was a Hairy, not a Downy, make me even more interested? Absolutely. Perhaps it’s an appreciation story influenced by identification.
Likewise, the Cardinal was an appreciation story, but recognizing its call made me know what I was looking for. Hm….
Identification—or choosing not to and just focus on appreciation—colors our experiences with birds. Once you learn a common bird call, it seems as if you can’t unhear it. And once you’ve learned how to tell the difference between an Eastern Kingbird and an Eastern Phoebe, you might no longer look at one like it’s something you’ve possibly never seen before. And once you learn about what makes a species unique, it’s difficult to see it the same way you did before its reputation glorified or tainted it. For instance, I’m pretty convinced the kids at the Songbird Festival at Blue Jay Point would NOT have pointed out the beauty of the Brown Headed Cowbird if they’d known that those guys are seen as parasitic Chaotic Evil baby bird killers.
But couldn’t the same be said about the positive effects of identification? Thanks to my albeit limited identification knowledge, I can picture a Carolina Wren when I hear its loud chime through the woods. I can marvel at the presence of a White-throated Sparrow foraging in the grass on a May afternoon not just because it has pretty yellow spots by its eyes, but also because I know that in just a few weeks, it will be heading far away for the summer. I can even admire the evolutionary tenacity of a Brown-headed Cowbird, a bird that has taken to some clever tactics to sustain its species.
Wait….isn’t this…appreciation?
And that’s just it. Sometimes once we tunnel down the identification road, we can see these birds in a new light. Other times, it hurts our ability to marvel at birds like it’s the first time we’re seeing them each time we encounter them. But regardless of whether we can identify two species or two hundred, the ability to appreciate the puffing feathers of a bird as common as a Northern Cardinal as it sings, or to enjoy the around-a-tree-trunk chase of a bird—lifer or not—expands our chances of having memorable bird watching experiences. If you’re out to just identify, then you’ll miss the wonder of the Mysterious Colorado Jay Thing, or the “Downy” Woodpecker, or the Cardinal. But if you can appreciate these birds–all birds–then you’re certain to have a memorable time.
The NC Birding Trail more than anything is about promoting all the many ways you can bird. So if you’re an ID fanatic, have you tried simple appreciation recently? And if you aren’t confident in your ID skills, have you sat with that and embraced it? Have you watched a perspective shift color your bird watching experience?
And, most importantly, has it improved your overall awareness for the delight that truly is these fascinating wildlife that we can interact with every day?