The Eyrie

Birding: Past, Present, and Future Challenges and Opportunities (a young birder's report from the 21st Annual Mass Audubon Birders Meeting)

By John Shamgochian

In March I had the opportunity to attend the 21st Annual Mass Audubon Birders Meeting, held in at Bentley University in Waltham, Massachusetts. In recounting the experiences given us by this enthralling event, I shall attempt to not bore you with arbitrary details. I will, instead, send your great gray matter bounding at warp speed nine across the galactic "birdaverse", spiritually and mentally with the same (now fascinating) arbitrary details. 

The meeting started on the morning of March 16 with a trickle of birders which quickly waxed into a gush, a wave of avian knowledge in a non-avian form. It crashed onto the grounds of Bentley University, leaving a trail of dazed locals in its mighty wake. From trickle to gush, the pale-necked river eased into a smooth flow. Birders are one of the world's greatest evolutionary feats, easily rivaling the stunning birds of paradise, the neck of the giraffe, and even the giant blind penguins of central Antarctica, albino survivors of a crooked past.

Of all the evolutionary twists and turns written in birding archives, very few of the world's birding masterpieces have come out as fine as Wayne Petersen, the day's announcer (a role he has played many times before). Standing on the slightly elevated stage, Mr. Petersen acquainted with the day's main courses and in quick succession introduced us to the presidents of Mass Audubon (Henry Tepper) and the Brookline Bird Club (Eddy Giles), both of whom greeted the expectant audience warmly. 

The first speaker on the roster was John Nelson of Gloucester, equipped with his speech "Reflections in 20th Century Birding in Massachusetts," which had just as many old photographs as it sounds like it would have. His speech, although perhaps not my favorite talk of the day, was definitely the most interesting. He started off by talking about birding in the age of Peterson and continued to talk about birding in the age of Peterson until the lights had switched back on.  

A photo similar to many used by Nelson of Gloucester, this photo is, as some may recognize, of me.

Next was Ashley Dayer, armed with "The Next Frontier in Birding: Harnessing Emerging Technologies to Engage People in Bird Conservation". She steadily bounced conservation slogans and photographs of the eBird homepage into the audience. It was a good speech, if not one that personally interested me. 

Before the next pair of talks, the dazed birders were released into the vendor room where they as a single entity collapsed on the pile of books, brochures, and binoculars laid out before them.

Then it was back to the meeting. David La Puma was up next and was perhaps the speaker with the most birder-important information. His speech, "The Bleeding Edge", left all listeners quite bloodless, some with excitement for future experiments, some (the less geek-friendly among us) horrified with the way birding was going. Who knew you could listen to migrating warblers without leaving your armchair thanks to the microphone in a flowerpot on the roof?! This fact was quickly followed by countless radar images. It was all very psychedelic.

The last main speaker sallied forth onto the stage and with incredible skill advertised his books. To help him with his speech he had employed a strong British accent and number of witty remarks which sent ripples of mirth through the auditorium with a few obnoxiously loud guffaws to boot. After completely exhausting the greatness of his books, the mighty Richard Crossley lost himself in a labyrinth of birding experiences which steadily amused the audience until his allotted time had long since elapsed.  

Lunch followed and then it was time for the four breakout presentations. We, as mere mortals, were only able to attend two of these talks, which took place in sets of two in separate rooms. Oh, for the abilities of a Time Lord!

Of the first two presentations, "Birdlife in the Gulf of Maine: What Challenges Face Birds in this Critically Important Region?" by Rebecca Holberton and "Birding by Habitat: Using the Landscape as an Aid to Better Birding" by Jim Sweeney, we chose the latter. Jim Sweeney, a local of Providence, my fair city,  seemed like an amiable chap who clearly and precisely led us through his talk. T'was a talk whose title leaves nothing to be desired in way of explanation. 

The next set of talks, from what I saw of them, were equally excellent. "Ornithological collections: Windows into Environmental and Evolutionary History," was presented by Scott Edwards, while Dick Walton took the other stage with, "Birding by Ear: A Brief History of our Passion for Learning the Songs of Birds." Again, we chose the latter. Dick Walton's talk was perhaps my favorite of the day. He led us smoothly and wittily through his speech. We understood the bird audio recordings, but he lost us when he got to the bit about Socrates. Nevertheless, we all agreed it was excellent.

I came home laden with free books and a bundle of facts, with which your clear sighted eyes need not be concerned, and a indebtedness to my grandfather (John Goodchild) who funded and supervised me and my brother on this most excellent of days. Our internal economies had been once more stabilized for such is the power of birders conferences.

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About the author: John is just a poor boy with his story seldom told and he has squandered his existence for a pocket full of scribble such are lists. John speaks, for no one goes on fighting. He has risen with the lark since the delicate age of eight (he is now 14) and then watched the lark with considerable intensity. John is a birder with unbridled fancies, facetious language and sweet romantic nonsense. He gives free play to his spirit without restraint. This prowling inhaler of Red Corpuscles has always considered the Red-necked Phalarope to be his favorite ave (just as the Lake Emerald is his preferred ode), but as a whole fancies most entities (most notably excluding the Freckled Duck). John lives in East Providence, Rhode Island and although he has not been able to fully prove it, believes that there are far nicer places. You can read more of John's writing on his blog.

Birding Hawaii's Waikamoi Preserve

By Eamon Corbett

To birds, Hawaii is a troubled paradise. The islands used to teem with exotic and endemic species, but since the arrival of humans these native birds have been decimated. At low elevations, the combination of habitat degradation, invasive species, and malaria has eliminated practically all of the native birds. Flipping through a field guide is a sobering experience. On each page, for every avian gem that still lives, there are 2 or more that are gone forever: all five honeyeaters, the Ou, the Koa Finches, the Kona Grosbeak, the Ula-al-Hawane, the Mamos, the Oahu and Molokai Creepers, the Akialoas, Nukupu’us, Kamao, Olomao, and the Po’ouli, which went extinct just nine years ago, in 2004. 

Still, some Hawaiian endemics survive, mostly restricted to the higher slopes of the volcanos, some only in isolated and remote tracts of forest. On my family vacation to Maui and the Big Island (the island of Hawaii) this spring, I tried to fit in as many stops in these places as possible, with a particular focus on the honeycreepers. They are a subfamily of birds found nowhere else in the world, descended from finches that found their way to the archipelago. When they reached the islands, they evolved to fill every ecological niche, one of the best examples of the evolutionary phenomenon called adaptive radiation. On the Big Island, we tracked down the highly endangered Palila (estimated global population: 250-1000), a large yellow-and-gray honeycreeper with a finch-like bill adapted to crushing mamane seed pods, and the Akiapola’au (estimated global population: 800), bright yellow with a “swiss-army knife” bill: the lower mandible is stout and used for drilling into koa bark, like a woodpecker, while the upper mandible is long and wickedly curved, ideal for digging grubs out of the koa branches. And on Maui, we headed to Waikamoi Preserve.

Waikamoi Preserve is located on the slopes of Haleakala Volcano, the highest peak on Maui (and, because these are volcanic islands, the source of essentially all of the land on the eastern part of the island). It’s owned by The Nature Conservancy, and is for the most part closed to the public. It is famous as essentially the last stronghold of two extremely endangered honeycreepers, the Akohekohe (A-ko-heh-ko-heh) and Maui Parrotbill, and is also a great spot to see the third Maui endemic, the only slightly less endangered Maui Alauahio (Al-a-wa-hi-o). I really wanted to try to see some of those birds (particularly the Akohekohe, or Crested Honeycreeper, a strong contender for the title “coolest bird ever”). Fortunately, I was able to get in contact with Chuck Probst, a docent for The Nature Conservancy, who very generously agreed to take my dad and me into the preserve. He did warn us, however, that conditions in the preserve could be wet, cold, windy, and miserable (which did scare off my mom and sister, who opted to stay at the beach).

So before dawn on February 22^nd, my dad and I left the clear, warm weather of the beachside town of Kihei and started the drive up the volcano. It was steep and there were lots of switchbacks, but compared to some of the driving we had had to do earlier in the trip it was a tame ascent, and we reached the entrance to Haleakala National Park early. Gone was the warm dry air, replaced instead with a steady drizzle and cold wind. There is a reason the preserve is a lush rainforest: it rains a lot!

As we were paying the entrance fee, I spotted a pair of birds by the side of the road just ahead of us. Raising my binoculars, I realized that they were Nene, or Hawaiian Geese! An endangered species, and one that we had failed to find on the Big Island, the Nene is the state bird of Hawaii, and one that I was excited and relieved to have finally found. There turned out to be four in total, foraging on and around the road, unconcerned by our car (which, though good for us, is unfortunate, because traffic accidents are a major cause of Nene fatalities).

Nene (Photo by Mike Boylan/USFWS)

We met up with Chuck and two other birders, Monte from Canada and Steve from Alaska, at a parking lot near Hosmer Grove, the stand of non-native conifers that lies just outside the Waikamoi Preserve. The grove was planted in an attempt to stop soil erosion, and despite being non-native does provide habitat for some of the honeycreepers. The campground was closed because of the weather, and Chuck said the forecast seemed rather dire—the worst he had seen in his years leading walks into the preserve. He couldn’t guarantee that there would be any birds with the rain and wind, and also expressed concern that if some of the streams that we had to cross flooded, we could be stuck in the preserve indefinitely. That scared us a bit, but we decided that since we were there already, we would proceed, albeit cautiously and poncho-clad.

As we followed the trail into the preserve, the weather was a far cry from the stereotypical sun and warmth that my mom and sister were experiencing less than 30 miles away on the “dry side” of the island. It was very wet and rather windy and cold. At a number of points, we had to wade through ankle-deep water that was washing across the trail, and despite my raingear I was soaked to the bone. The birds were very quiet as well, but we did see small numbers of the three more common, endemic nectar-eating honeycreepers on the island. They were the Apapane, clad in crimson and black, the green-yellow Amakihi, and the I’iwi, probably the most well-known honeycreeper, vivid scarlet with a sickle-shaped orange bill.

The big targets were the other three honeycreepers on the island, all endemics, and this was basically our only chance to see them. The weather brightened for a little, but as we reached the start of the boardwalk, the best spot for the endemics, it started pouring. Drenched, we slowly made our way along the narrow boardwalk through a spectacular pristine forest, filled with red-flowered Ohia trees, old gnarled and mossy Koa trees, and an understory of ferns.

The variable songs of I’iwis and Apapanes and the rain were the dominant sounds in the forest, but after a while Chuck stopped, and called our attention to a whistle: the call of the Akohekohe! We stood motionless for probably close to twenty minutes, knowing that they often make circuits of the forest and that it could return to the same spot. My clothes, my binoculars, and I were all about as wet as if I had just gone for a swim in the hotel pool. Suddenly, I saw a flash of movement as a bird flew across the boardwalk in front of us: large for a honeycreeper (probably a little bigger than a cardinal), and mostly black, with a cream-colored tuft over the bill, a golden eye-ring, red nape, golden-red streaking on the body, and white tail-tips. I only saw it for an instant before it disappeared, but it was unmistakably an Akohekohe.

Only I had seen it, though, and I wanted a better look, so our vigil continued. Finally we spotted it as it flew back across the boardwalk, and perched not far from where we were standing. Through the fog and rain-covered binocular lenses, we all watched as it moved from tree to tree and flower to flower, a truly striking bird. The experience was made even more incredible by the knowledge that we were in what is essentially the only spot in the world where this bird is seen regularly, and that there are only around 3,800 Akohekohes total. Hopefully that number will rise, and future generations will also be able to watch this remarkable bird and it will not join the grim ranks of the Bishop’s O’o, Po’ouli, and other birds that used to share this forest. (To learn more about conservation on Maui and throughout Hawaii, and to see some awesome honeycreeper photos, check out the Nature Conservancy link above and the Maui Forest Birds Recovery Website).

After the bird disappeared, we continued on to the end of the boardwalk, where my dad spotted a bird creeping up a tree branch in the distance: it was a Maui Alauahio, another endangered endemic, demonstrating why it is also often called the “Maui Creeper.” The Alauahio is a bright insect-eating bird, and it looks and behavior strongly resembles a warbler.

As we climbed back up to the start of the boardwalk, we spotted a couple more Alauahios, and two more Akohekohes, one of which gave great looks right off the trail. We couldn’t track down a parrotbill, but given the weather and the rarity of that bird that was not unexpected. In fact, we were surprised we had seen as much as we did.

After some more wading through streams that were now noticeably deeper than they had been before, we arrived back at our cars. Thrilled at seeing some of the rarest and most beautiful birds in the world, we parted ways with Chuck and the others, and headed back down the volcano towards dry weather and the beach.

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About the author: Eamon Corbett is a 17-year-old birder and bird blogger from Pelham, New York, and one of the Student Blog Editors of The Eyrie. He has been birding for almost as long as he could talk, thanks in part to regular family vacations to Florida, where Osprey and Turkey Vultures first caught his eye. Read more of Eamon’s writing on his blog, Flight Log.

Larkwire Master Birder: Water Birds of North America

A Review by Sarah Toner

So the saga of Larkwire, the revolutionary bird song learning app, continues! Earlier this year, I reviewed the Larkwire Master Birder Land Birds iPhone app, which covers 344 birds out of 700+ breeders in North America. A substantial number of the other North American bird species (another 135, with little overlap), is covered by Larkwire’s newest app, entitled Larkwire Master Birder: Water Birds. (Note: there is an online version, too, but this review covers the iPhone/iPad app.)

The basic structure of Larkwire Master Birder: Water Birds is the same as the Land Birds app: you play a trivia game, guessing which song belongs to one of four species, and then you advance to the field mode to test whether you can recognize the song. The birds are grouped by song type, and you can customize the app to your skill level. It features varying levels of difficulty, presenting increasingly more birds to learn, and you can combine song groups into many possible combinations to practice. After completing several groups, Larkwire will ask you to review them and challenge you to remember them.

While the components of Larkwire Master Birder: Water Birds are the same as those of Larkwire Land Birds, Larkwire’s new water birds app presents some distinct challenges that distinguish it from the earlier Larkwire Land Birds app. Apart from birds like cranes, loons, and bitterns, we don’t normally think of water birds as having distinct songs or calls. It might seem that because those are some of the hardest bird groups to ID by plumage, they would also be the hardest to group by sound. To an extent, that is true. The songs and calls can be frustratingly similar, more so than warbler songs. It’s not easy to sort out Ross’s Geese, Snow Geese, and Cackling Geese, the very first challenge that the app presents, but the work is worth it when you can pick a vagrant Ross’s sound out of a flock of Snow Geese (or vice versa).

There’s a running series of jokes that start with, “You might be a birder if...” I’ve heard a lot of them, but two that puzzled me were “...you know that not all ducks quack” and “...you can name two ducks that quack.” Larkwire Master Birder: Water Birds will quickly teach you that not all ducks quack. Some click, some peep, some sigh, some yodel, some groan, and some decrescendo. I was actually more stumped, however, trying to name another duck, besides Mallard, that quacks. We just don’t often think about duck calls; they’re usually far out in a marsh, we view them with scopes in order to ID them, and we ignore them when they occasionally peep or twitter. Larkwire introduces a wide variety of duck quacks, including “Classic Quacks” and “Purring Quacks,” with 25 different calls to learn, from Mallard to Redhead to Red-breasted Merganser.

If you want to go beyond duck calls, this app offers plenty of other water bird songs and calls to learn. Rails are always useful to practice, especially the frustratingly similar and taxonomically confusing Clapper and King; “Bitterns” is one of the easiest categories to brush up on; loons and grebes are well-known and well-represented in this app; and it is quite fun to practice learning the calls of cranes and swans, particularly those of Mute Swans—a definite misnomer!

Larkwire Master Birder: Water Birds covers even more eccentric, unusual, and interesting territory: shorebird songs and calls (useful for trips to the tundra or to mudflats); long and short gull calls; terns; and even ibises. The sheer variety of water bird calls is astounding, going far beyond simple peeps and grunts. Larkwire also lets you build, develop, and test your own methods of telling birds apart. By listening to them and practicing comparing them directly, you find connections and differences between their songs. Sometimes these points of comparison work as useful ID points, while at other times you learn, by hearing another variation of the bird’s song, that they are not reliable. I enjoy using the app because of these comparisons, which resemble the scientific method. You are presented with data; you craft an intriguing hypothesis; and you examine the data and examples to either support or refute the idea you are testing. This process is especially important when learning completely new songs and calls, because you can explore the territory with fresh eyes and discover which memory techniques work best for your mind.

Of course, the giant library of sounds and wonderfully descriptive text means that Larkwire Master Birder: Water Birds isn’t cheap, but for those interested in going beyond simple warbler songs to plumb the depths of water bird songs and calls, it’s worth the expense. I’ve already begun to apply my knowledge from Larkwire Master Birder: Water Birds by keeping a sharp ear out for migrating Snow Geese and by identifying Northern Pintail by ear, surprising my birding companions in the field. Larkwire’s water birds app pairs wonderfully with the land birds app, and provides an extremely useful tool for expanding your knowledge of bird sounds.

I would like to thank Larkwire for being kind enough to offer me a complimentary review copy of the Larkwire Master Birder: Water Birds app.

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About the author: Sarah Toner, 16, has been birding since she was 8. She lives in southeast Michigan but wants to move to beautiful Whitefish Point, Michigan. She doesn't have one favorite bird, but likes drab, brown northern birds such as Clay-colored Sparrow, Boreal Chickadee, and Rough-legged Hawk. She was a member of the 2011 ABA Tropicbirds team in Texas and attended the 2011 Camp Colorado. Sarah also received first place in the 10-13 year-old writing division and third place in the illustration division of the 2010 ABA Young Birder of the Year contest, and is part of the student editorial team for The Eyrie.

Young Birder Blog Birding #17

Compiled by Alexandria Simpson

Spring generally means that winter doldrums and gloominess are left behind. The birds are back and singing, the flowers are blooming, and the air is warm, which always means paradise in Central Texas! Birds with nests are everywhere:  a Killdeer and her chick near one pond, a Bewick’s Wren in a tractor implement (not in use this time of year, luckily!), and an Eastern Phoebe in an old abandoned barn. I am jealous of my dad (who is not a birder) stopping in Arizona on his way to Nevada, and seeing Gambel’s Quail and Phainopeplas, among other species that would be lifers for me, but maybe next time...

There were so many good blog posts this month I had a hard time choosing a few to highlight!

Ever had that feeling that David Bell, blogging at Birding in Sault Ste. Marie, had while birding Point Pelee?

Anyway, to that crazy weird bird that Brandon mentioned I saw....Basically I saw this bird flying south toward the Tip at about 7pm and thought, "Oh cool, a Common Nighthawk." I then got it in the bins and was like, WHAT …IS THAT?!?!!

The Prairie Birder interviews Mark Cullen, a well-known Canadian gardner who is currently guest blogging and raising money for Bird Studies Canada.

I’m happy to announce that I have an interview today with Mr. Cullen, especially during what is a very busy time of year for him, even without the birding! As you may know, he writes a regular gardening column for The Toronto Star, appears weekly on CTV’s Canada AM, and one of his most recent books is Canadian Garden Primer: An Organic Approach.

And if you like poetic waxing, John Shamgochian of John's Birding Blog, as always, delivers it while describing a day spent birding and two lifers.

Golden sunflakes danced off the roofs of cars scattered through the parking lot, although eye-catching it was not eye-holding, the glimmer of a White-crowned Sparrows feathers were far too riveting.

Although this bird was seen in April, Alex Burdo from Flight of the Scrub-Jay posted about it in May and I know quite a bit about seeing a new patch bird, after a period of no new ones.

It’s not every day that I see a new bird for my Fairfield list. After all, I’ve been religiously birding my hometown of Fairfield for years now. There are few birds that I haven’t seen here, and that list of birds I’m missing got even smaller following a visit to the Birdcraft this past Thursday.

Joseph Nichols of Aberdeenshire Young Birder, over in Scotland, seems to be having a great time with vagrants and migrants.

Aberdeenshire birding has been on a bit of a hot streak of late. It has been of those springs that seems to be producing consistent amounts of local scarce (the first in a few years admittedly). This has mostly concerned passerines in the last couple of weeks, owing to some tasty fronts and fairly regular north-easterly winds.

Book Review: Imperial Dreams

 

By Alexandria Simpson

Imperial Dreams—just the title of Tim Gallagher’s new book is enough to create an alluring picture in the imagination. Add the fact the bird, Imperial Woodpecker, is thought to be extinct and you find a recipe for not only an exciting dream, but also a true story full of adventure. 

Birders may remember Mr. Gallagher’s quest for the Imperial’s relative, Ivory-billed Woodpecker, in the Louisiana swamps, but this tale makes that adventure seem like an innocent day birding. Encounters with narcotraficantes (drug growers), AK-47s, and bombs, hikes of miles up and down steep canyons and mountains, and a scary incident with dehydration create drama in this exciting expedition. Make no mistake; this isn’t your average birding trip, or even a good twitch. Danger could be waiting at every bend in the road and behind every tree. So who would be crazy enough to attempt looking for a probably extinct bird in spite of the peril? Only a hardcore birder, aware of, but not bothered by risk.

At least at the start of the quest, Mr. Gallagher thought the bird was worthy of this kind of dedication and risk. A large black bird sporting a long, ivory-colored bill, white wings, and a tall, curved crest—red for males, black for females—certainly makes them majestic, just as their name suggests. 

Throughout the story, not only is the history of the work of scientists searching for Imperial Woodpeckers (or Imperials) woven in, but the history of the area is, as well. Various peoples of ancient Mexico attached legends to the bird:  for example, the Huichol believed the bird protected the sun during its first day and was permitted to wear a scarlet crest because of its bravery. Imperials, known as pitoreales to Spanish speakers, are specialists in old growth pine forests; this is where the problem started—this timber is what loggers desired. Between this habitat loss and hunting, Imperials became rare, with only a few unconfirmed sightings after the 1970s. 

Being a history buff, I enjoyed the historical background, but some readers may not. The author sometimes digresses with personal stories that are not directly related to the book’s topic, which could be irritating to some; I, however, liked them, as I am curious about people’s life experiences.

Before embarking upon his search, the author interviewed old ranchers and others who had seen the bird before it disappeared. His results were mixed: some people could not be located; others had poor memories, but several remembered well the big woodpecker. After gleaning what he could from humans, he, along with a few other researchers and guides, finally began hiking and climbing the Sierra Madres and between 2009 and 2010, he explored various locations in Mexico. 

At each potential site, one of the group would make tapping sounds to attract any woodpeckers that might be in the area. Although no one knew for sure if Imperials made this sound, other members of its family tap this way, so it was hoped Imperials did as well. Time and again, they continued without success. 

Unsuccessful attempts at locating the bird weren’t their only complication. During treks to find untouched Imperial habitat, patches of illegally planted opium poppies were common in cleared areas, and landowners quickly steered the group around them. After one expedition, the escort who accompanied them through the more dangerous areas was not there to meet them, and villagers hadn’t seen him in two days. The researchers were told just to continue on their journey and hope for the best, which, after much discussion, they decided to do. Though Mr. Gallagher often speaks of danger, it never seemed to really strike him that his life was actually at stake. Embarking on this last expedition of the quest, the author stashed his memory cards, notebook, and passport in his pockets, hoping if bandits did attack, at least the trip wouldn’t be in vain. He writes “…if the worst possible thing happened…my body would be identifiable from my passport, and my wife might receive my notes, recordings, and photographs…Maybe she could finish this book for me.” Fortunately, though they encountered many burned homes that had been standing two weeks before, they reached Durango, where they would fly out safely.

This last incident becomes the climax where Mr. Gallagher realizes that it was “time to pass the baton of searching for the imperial woodpecker to others,” and warns those who may want to follow in his footsteps “…you stand a far better chance of getting killed in the Sierra Madre now than of ever seeing a pitoreal.”

The ending invoked a mixed reaction. I was disappointed because after all the danger, preparation, and research there are no results to show for the effort; I guess I was looking for a “happily-ever-after” ending, with even a small population of Imperial Woodpeckers found alive and well in some remote part of the Sierra Madres. However, it was also inspiring because it meant that the potential to be the one to find these beautiful birds is still there. When (or if) the political situation becomes more stable, I would love to join the quest. 

All-around, Imperial Dreams is a great addition to the birder’s bookshelf. Though we aren’t certain that the Imperial Woodpecker still exists, perhaps one young birder who reads this book will be motivated to pick up where Tim Gallagher left off and rediscover this regal bird surviving away from human eyes.

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About the author: Alexandria Simpson is an avid, sixteen-year-old birder from Santa Anna, Texas. While she wishes she could say she has been birding all of her life, instead she has spent the last four years making up for lost time. She wants to become an ornithologist and someday read scientific papers without falling asleep. Her photography, illustrations, and writings have won awards at local, state, and national levels.

Letting Kids Know About Birding

by Lorenzo Rohani

It’s not very often that I see kids out birding, which is surprising. That’s not to say birding is easy, just that I know it is something lots of kids would like. I’ve done birding presentations at schools, mainly for younger kids such as 1^st or 2^nd graders. In that age group kids are very interested, not only about birds, but wildlife in general. For me, I’ve noticed younger kids are far more interested then older kids. They love sharing stories about an eagle that flew over their school playground or a duck that visited their backyard. They especially enjoy bird photography. It brings their imagination out and inspires them. The pictures motivate them to get started birding.

I have been a birder for many years. Starting at age four, I went to a local bird festival. From that time forward, I’ve been going on walks through the forest and often seeing birds that I never really expected to see. Thrilled and inspired, I would go home and look up the birds in my favorite field guide. Eventually, I wanted to keep these memories with photography so I could share what I found with others. I started in my backyard, a good place to observe birds up close and a spot where not much harm could happen to my camera. I eventually took photographs of birds everywhere I went. By age twelve, I had a large collection of photographs and, with my dad’s help, I published my very own book for kids, “A Kid’s Guide to Birding.”

I especially like working with kids around the ages of four through twelve, helping them learn the same stuff as I did. You’re never really too young or old to bird. I always suggest birding in your backyard first. Backyard birding requires a few things to make your yard a “bird friendly” habitat. It’s important that the yard has good sources of food, water, and natural cover. Native plants with berries are particularly good for attracting local birds. I like to ask kids to find out how many bird species come to their own yard. This will help them get started and become more aware of their own environment and what’s happening in it.

Giving a bird presentation isn’t very hard, but practice helps. At first, I was kind of quiet and really hurried things along. After about three presentations, I wasn’t so quiet. By then I knew the kids would connect to the topic. Younger kids have lots of questions and stories. I find they are very interested in hummingbirds, in particular. Hummingbirds are so unique they always amaze kids. Explaining things about a cool bird really gets them thinking. I also show video clips from trips I have done, such as one trip I did out in the ocean to the pelagic zone. At one point in the video there are birds flying away and as they take off, their feet slapping against the water as if they are trying to run on top of it. The videos always amaze, letting kids see what bird activity actually looks like, because sometimes they just don’t believe your words.

Rufous Hummingbird. Photo by Lorenzo Rohani.

Getting out into the wild is one of my favorite things. I sometimes get the chance to lead guided bird walks. It is not so easy because when people arrive it is hard for them to believe that I am the leader. They don’t expect to see a kid leading a walk. When I start, sometimes kids like running up and showing what they know. Keeping the group organized can be hard, but it does make me happy when participants share their information and show enthusiasm. It lets me know they are listening. But group walks are risky. Some days you see near to nothing. But sometimes you see that one rare bird you weren’t really expecting to see.

Teaching kids about birding is important because they are the future for birds. With all the habitat loss, pesticides, and illegal hunting, many bird populations are decreasing. It is good for kids to learn that birds are not just interesting, but an extremely important part of the ecosystem. The kids that develop a passion for birding can help protect birds in the future. Rachel Carson’s appreciation of birds helped lead her to discoveries about DDT. Those discoveries were ignored by some and opposed by others, but having support gave her the courage to continue. You never know what kid you encourage today may grow up to be the next Rachel Carson.

I think it helps when kids can learn from other kids. They feel like it is really possible to be a kid birder when they have an example. Being that example gives me motivation, too. Every kid has a chance to make a difference. But the first step is getting out and learning to appreciate nature, and birds are part of that. That’s why I put together a book for kids, so they can learn the steps of becoming a birder and discover the wildlife that is flying right into their yards and doing amazing things.

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About the author: Lorenzo and his dad, Michael Rohani, have traveled thousands of miles together birding and photographing birds. Their book, A Kid’s Guide to Birding, is full of tips for kids about how to get started in birding, where to find birds, and ways to identify them. It also shows projects you can do to bring birds into your own back yard.

Lorenzo loves birds and is always learning more fun facts about them. He’ll tell about the fun he’s had looking at birds and share his beautiful photographs. Grownups say his talk is as entertaining and informative for them as it is for kids.

To read Lorenzo’s blog and learn more about him, visit his website.

Young Birder Blog Birding #16

 Compiled by Eamon Corbett

The migrants are back! It’s been a late spring here in New York, but it’s finally arrived. April has banished winter for good, and the woods are beginning to fill with the sounds of returning songbirds. The signs have trickled in over the course of the month—the first mourning cloak butterfly; the first phoebe; first pine warbler; palm; then a six butterfly day; a six warbler day. Before long April will give way to the migratory madness of May, but this month we celebrate the long-awaited return of spring.

On Flight of the Scrub Jay, Alex Burdo gives an overview of the returning migrants in his part of Connecticut this April, including a lovely streamside singer, the Louisiana Waterthrush.

Making my way through the forest, I was surprised to hear a loud boat of song, seemingly from right behind me. Being the huge warbler fan that I am, I knew who the source of the singing was almost instantly, and it didn’t take me long to find it, perched around ten feet off the ground in a tall shrub.

Speaking of Waterthrushes, on Two Birders and Binoculars, John Mark Simmons gives us tips on how to separate the Louisiana Waterthrush from its somewhat more streaky and yellower cousin.

Spring has finally arrived once again! For some birders, this is the most enjoyable part of the year. All the birds are singing with full volume and they are in their best plumage… With the massive invasion of Warblers, the Louisiana and Northern Waterthrushes come along and can cause some confusion in the field.

On John’s Birding Blog, John Shamgochian regales us with the tale of an adult King Eider in the Cape Cod Canal:

Feathers dazzled the eyes of the pale-necks: blue, green, orange, white, black; he was a grandiose sight indeed and he knew it. His majestic sails curled with pride. He was a gentle bird but not a humble one. He took full responsibility for the glimmer of his feathers. he gloated and all the common folks looked at him and said "he is so beautiful that I am sure he has a long Latin name". He was King of the canal.

While American birders can certainly boast about our more colorful warblers, Bill of Bill’s Birding proves to us that the old world can hold its own in terms of colorful migrants with his photos of an absolutely gorgous Bluethroat. That’s certainly a species I wouldn’t mind having show up in New York this year!

With 20 mph winds blowing about, and my hands physically shaking, it was quite hard to get a sharp image. To get anywhere near enough stability, it was a matter of lying flat out with the lens resting on the grass, practically looking up at one of the most stunning birds I've ever seen. Totally worth the slog to get there, and without a doubt one of my most memorable encounters yet...

Trying for Trogons: Memories from Camp Chiricahua 2012

By Eamon Corbett

Southeast Arizona is home to a dazzling array of beautiful and rare birds, but one species is foremost in the minds of birders travelling to the region than any other: the Elegant Trogon. On Camp Chiricahua last summer, the bird was never far from our thoughts, given that it graced the cover of all of our checklists. The northernmost representative of a family of tropical rainforest denizens, the trogon is a large, stunning red-and-green bird that nests in the cavities in Arizona Sycamores along rivers. This habitat is most easily accessed in Cave Creek Canyon, above the town of Portal, Arizona, in the Chiricahuas, so all of us campers were eagerly anticipating the hike up the road into the canyon.

Moonset at Cave Creek Ranch (Photo by Jennie Duberstein)

The rest of the campers and I, accompanied by trip leaders Michael O’Brian, Louise Zemaitis, and Jennie Duberstein, set off on a Saturday morning, following the road above the Cave Creek Ranch. The sheer rock walls of the canyon loomed on either side of us. Along the way we searched, without luck, for the elusive Montezuma Quail (we’d get it eventually: see James’s earlier post). There were no quail to be found, but we were entertained by Mexican Jays, the fantastic songs of Canyon Wrens on the slopes above us, and the “squeaky toy” calls of Sulphur-bellied Flycatchers. For the butterfly-watchers in the group there were beauties like the Bordered Patch, Two-tailed Swallowtail, and Golden-banded Skipper.

Cathedral Vista (Photo by Jennie Duberstein)

But as we approached the sycamore-lined river, it was clear what the primary quarry of the day was, and all eyes and ears were focused on finding a trogon. Suddenly, Michael stopped: “Did you heard that?!”

In the distance was the unmistakable call of an Elegant Trogon! We scanned the trees in the direction that the call seemed to be coming from, and suddenly someone spotted it: a brilliant adult male trogon perched in a sycamore. Camera shutters clicked madly, and broad smiles appeared on the faces of everyone. As trogons often do, it sat relatively still with its unique hunch-backed posture, giving everyone excellent looks. At the urging of our leaders, we took detailed field notes. In addition to the shiny green back and head and vivid red underparts, I noted the orange-red orbital ring setting of a dark eye, the broad yellow bill, and the long, coppery dark-tipped tail. It sat preening as everyone watched, still somewhat awed, flew a short distance, and then crossed the road, giving a sputtering call, and disappeared deeper into the forest.

Trogon watching! (Photo by Jennie Duberstein)

With such a remarkable target bird seen better than we could have expected, spirits were very high as we took a short loop walk to get a great vista of the canyon (Black-throated Gray Warbler was a nice bonus). But the trogon show wasn’t over. As we approached the “trogon-spot” on the way back, we found the adult male again. But this time, he was accompanied by two juvenile trogons! The young birds were not as brightly-colored as the adult, but were still striking: browner with white flashes on the outside of their tails, white-spotted wings, and a white bar through each eye. All three trogons were extremely active, eating grapes from vines in the trees. While this doesn’t seem like a particularly challenging proposition, they were apparently too heavy to feed from the vines at their leisure, and instead resorted to making quick sallies and plucking grapes while hovering in a flash of red, green, and white.

After watching them foraging for a while, we parted ways with the trogons and started back down the canyon towards Portal, ecstatic at our close encounter with a bird so stunning and so emblematic of our camp’s namesakes, the incomparable Chiricahua Mountains.

Taking a short rest after all of the trogon excitement. (Photo by Jennie Duberstein)

Hoping for your own trogon experience this summer? Learn about attending Camp Chiricahua 2013 here.

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About the author: Eamon Corbett is a 17-year-old birder and bird blogger from Pelham, New York, and one of the Student Blog Editors of The Eyrie. He has been birding for almost as long as he could talk, thanks in part to regular family vacations to Florida, where Osprey and Turkey Vultures first caught his eye. Read more of Eamon’s writing on his blog, Flight Log.

Birding El Triunfo: Quetzals and the cloud Stories and Adventures from a Mexican Young Birder

By Alberto Lobato (translated by Jennie Duberstein)

(Read Part 1 of Alberto’s story here).

After seeing the Horned Guans, we returned to camp. It was hot and humid, but it is always like that in the cloud forest. Meanwhile, various Black-throated Jays were making noise and flying about high in the trees. There was some Common Bush Tanager activity, and moving around with them we also found a small Rufous-browned Wren.

We conducted monitoring work in the mornings, returning to camp by 1pm, so I had the afternoons free to bird. And of course I took advantage of this opportunity! I started to walk along a small trail, looking for activity and paying attention to what was moving around on the ground and in the branche of the trees. I spotted a Slate-throated Redstart jumping around, along with Green-throated Mountain-gem.

A Collared Trogon perched close to the road, and for a second I thought it might be a quetzal. Although it wasn’t, the trogon is still a beautiful bird to see. But suddenly I heard something big moving in the crowns of the trees, just behind me. It was a Highland Guan walking between the branches, moving rapidly and passing closeby before disappearing into the forest. Everything was silent for a moment, but then I heard something walking through the leaf litter on the forest floor. I remembered that there are jaguars here, as well as pumas, tapirs, and other large mammals that move freely through the forest, and my heart began to beat quickly. I definitely did not want to enounter a puma at close range! I stood still, waiting, and then it appeared: a collared peccary. It looked at me and continued on its path through the forest.

As I walked back to camp, the sun was setting and I spotted some Chestnut-capped Brush-Finches that were making noise and moving along the ground. But the most exciting thing that I spotted was a pair of Blue-naped Chlorophonia that were eating fruit, along with a Rufous-collared Thrush. A Barred Forest Falcon was calling from inside the forest, and the the trees and the mountains were beginning to turn a reddish color as the sun set. The first stars came out and I heard Fulvous Owls begin to call.

Blue-naped Chlorophonia

Everyone staying in the camp (the researchers and the park guards) met for dinner. We told stories of pumas and jaguars that live in the forest, and also about the tapir that sometimes comes into the camp at night. When the stories ended and it had turned cold, we all headed to bed so we'd be ready for hte next day of bird monitoring.

The next day sunrise arrived, with humidity at almost 100% and somewhat cool, cloudy weather. We began to walk, again looking for quetzals and guans. We heard a quetzal but weren’t able to see it. The large oak trees, the tallest tree in the forest here, form the forest canopy. Below the oaks many other plants grow: palms, large ferns, epiphytes. And in all of this vegetation move tapirs, jaguars, and peccaries, as well as birds, like a Blue-throated Motmot that we heard. And suddenly, we heard the quetzal again, but this time, this time the bird was coming directly towards us and it perched three meters away. It was a male Resplendent Quetzal, brilliant green and red, a marvel of feathers. As it again took flight, it’s magnificent long, green tail feathers moving around it’s body.

Setting out for a day of monitoring.

We took measurements of the distance from which we saw the quetzal, and not much more because we didn’t know what the bird had been doing when we spotted it—we saw it, it saw us, and it flew away. As we continued walking we spotted Gray-breasted Wood-Wrens and we heard a Ruddy Foliage-gleaner. We spotted a small Wine-throated Hummingbird flying around three red flowers, and also found a Hooded Grosbeak, similar to the Evening Grosbeak that lives farther to the north.

We arrived to a spot where we found some Horned Guan "bañaderos"; these are clearings where Horned Guans come to “bathe” with dirt and display courtship behavior. Unfortunately, we didn’t find any guans here.

Farther along the trail, we heard the quetzals again and they flew from an avocado tree to an enormouse oak before continuing off deeper into the forest and out of sight. This is one of the best-conserved cloud forests in Mexico, where the atmosphere is always humid and the giant ferns grow together with tiny mosses. 

When we were walking back to the camp, five Emerald Toucanets flew over our heads, we heard a Ruddy-capped Nightingale-Thrush singing from the side of tht rail, a Yellowish Flycatcher caught some insects in flight, we passed a Spotted Nightingale-Thrush jumping around the trail…and we finally heard a guan, the same deep sound that we’d heard the previous day. It was a little difficult to hear over the sound of the running water, but there it was. Although we looked for it, we weren’t able to find it. It is incredible to me to think that a bird the size of a Wild Turkey can hide itself so well. 

By the time we returned to camp the temperatures were quite hot, but during the afternoon it began to cloud up and by nightfall the clouds were quite thick. Then the wind began to blow and the skies unleased a torment of rain. This continued for the next day and we found ourselves stuck at the camp, trying to find ways to amuse ourselves and pass the time and wondering how we were going to leave the following day.

El Triunfo cloud forest.

The following day at sunrise, we said goodbye to an “El Triunfo” camp still shrouded in clouds and began our descent. The lower we got, the more the clouds dispersed. We spotted a Paltry Tyrannulet and a flock of Barred Parakeets that flew over. It was a wonderful way to say goodbye to the El Triunfo Cloud Forest in Chiapas, where the quezals still live, where jaguars walk beneath the old trees, and where the mysterious Horned Guans live, a place that will be forever in my memories.

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About the author: Alberto Lobato is a 16-year-old birder who was born in Xalapa, Veracruz, Mexico. He has been birding since he was 5 years old and is an active member of the Xalapa Birding Club (Club de Observadores de Aves de Xalapa, or COAX). He has traveled with COAX to various parts of Mexico. In addition to birding, he is a musician, with an interest in traditional music. Alberto’s favorite bird is the Bearded Wood-Partridge.

 

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El Triunfo: Home of the Horned Guan

Student Blog Editors sought for The Eyrie

Young Birder Blog Birding #15

Student Blog Editors sought for The Eyrie

Are you interested in the challenge of bringing together the skills and talents of young birders across the world and working to create a truly unique and outstanding young birder blog? If so, now is your chance! We're looking to add a few exceptional young birders to our volunteer Student Blog Editor Team.

What being a student editor entails is pretty straightforward:

• You write a minimum of one post per month for the blog.
• You try to recruit one post per month from other young birders, give these posts a first round of edits, and pass them on to the Blog Manager for final editing and publication.
• You take a turn compiling the monthly "Young Birder Blog Birding" post.
• You help promote the blog to other young birders and those with an interest--on Facebook, your own blog, by word of mouth, etc.
• You help guide the future direction of the blog, including content, design, etc.

Being a student blog editor for The Eyrie gives you the unique opportunity to gain experience, improve your writing and editing skills, work with experts in the fields or ornithology, birding, and conservation, and help shape the future of the youth birding world. As blog editor, you will seek out contributors, ensure the timely submission of blog posts, artwork, and photographs to yourself and the Blog Manager, follow American Birding Association guidelines for editing of submissions, stay in close contact with the Blog Manager, and keep abreast of the goings on in the world of youth birding. You will also regularly contribute your own posts, photos, and/or artwork to The Eyrie.

Qualifications: Editors must...

• be pre-college, age 18 or under.
• have a good connection with other young birders.
• be willing to make a one-year commitment to the blog.

To apply, send a letter of interest with information about your experience and qualifications, a writing sample, and two letters of recommendation to: Jennie Duberstein, ABA Young Birder Liaison/The Eyrie Blog Manager, at jduberstein at aba dot org or PO Box 40253, Tucson AZ 85717. Emailed applications are strongly are preferred.

Your letter of interest and letters of support should include information about your skills and experience as a birder, writer, artist, photographer, trip leader, etc., your involvement with and connections to the world of young birders, and anything else that explains what you would bring to the editorial team of The Eyrie.

APPLICATIONS MUST BE RECEIVED BY MAY 24, 2013. Direct all questions to jduberstein at aba dot org.