Becoming a Bird Nerd
Fast forward to New Year’s Eve 2016. This is when the National Audubon Society's Christmas Bird Count took place along Ocracoke’s shoreline, wooded areas, and village. Nature and wildlife on Ocracoke never disappoint, and I’ve become increasingly curious about wildlife migration, wildlife behaviors and habitats, and have challenged myself to identify yard and shore birds. Let me tell you, identifying birds is no easy task. I’m okay at identifying shore birds, but identifying yard birds is a whole different ball game. Then after you identify a bird, you’ve got to count them! I didn’t fully appreciate the effort of those who participate in bird counts until I did it on my own this most recent New Year’s Eve.
Anyone who knows me fairly well can tell you I’m not the most organized human being on the planet, and as such it should really be no surprise that I misplaced my binoculars. I have a stack of birding books in our spare room; the last time I saw the binoculars they were right there, with the birding books, a dictionary, and a thesaurus. Well guess what - they were not where I remembered seeing them last. Will, my husband, truly believed they were with my turtle supplies and/or beach gear, which are all in our SUV. They were not. Knowing I would need binoculars I messaged Peter Vankevich, an avid and knowledgeable birder, and sure enough he had an extra pair. I met Peter and a group of four visiting high schoolers at the NPS campground beach, grabbed the binoculars, and went back to my house.
Now armed with binoculars, the Peterson’s Guide to Birds of North America, my camera, cell phone (I’ll explain its importance shortly), a notebook, and my water bottle, I felt quite confident about the mission at hand. I walked out of my front door and listened. Coming from the juniper trees and live oaks that line much of our street, I heard chirps, lots of chirps. It sounded as if the birds formed an antiphonal choir, chirping alternately and from different trees along the street. I could see movement and hear leaves rustle, but the birds themselves eluded me for a solid five minutes.
Finally I saw a small feathered body fly from a tree and land on a bare branch in our yard (is this the bird who’s been pooping on our new car?). I quickly pulled the binoculars to my face, only to discover they weren’t adjusted to work with my eyes, so everything was blurry. I also discovered – whilst trying to see through the binoculars – that my camera strap had become entangled around the binoculars’ neck strap, so I’m awkwardly contorting my arms and hands, trying to move slowly, yet quietly to get a good look at this daggone bird and muttering expletives to myself while wearing an ensemble that can only be described as “hiker chic” (but my gosh I was comfortable), all in the middle of our street.
After what seemed like a million years, I got the devices untangled and the binoculars focused. I looked up and HUZZAH! The bird was still there! I was shocked to see its small round body still perched on the bare branch, but stranger things have happened, so I stopped overthinking (for once) and observed the tiny creature until it did fly off. Based on its shape, I had a hunch it was a warbler, and just before it flew away I got a glimpse of yellow. I quickly reached for my phone and accessed the Merlin Bird ID app produced by the Cornell Lab of Ornithology. I answered a few questions about the bird (where I saw it, the three main colors, and size) and the app produced a list of possible birds. Sure enough, a Yellow-rumped warbler was on the list. The app also provides sound samples of the various bird calls, so I played those recordings and voilà! I had spotted a Yellow-rumped warbler. An aside: playing these bird calls around your dog(s) and watching their reaction(s) is hystercial.
Once I had the bird identified I wandered down the rest of my street. In the time it took for me to get my gear situated and the bird identified, I had become more aware of chirps, tweets, and movement in the trees. When I heard a vehicle drive by on Back Road, the noise of the engine seemed deafening compared to the sweet, tranquil sounds of the birds and the trees. Once I had finished counting warblers (to the best of my ability), I left our sweet little street and walked onto Back Road. It had rained during previous days, so puddles had formed in their usual places. The sizeable puddles motivated me to walk on the double yellow line to avoid splashing road grime all over my boots as much as possible. When I saw a vehicle approaching, I fearlessly stepped off the double yellow line and waded through the puddles; my feet remaining clean and dry thanks to my oh-so-stylish waterproof hiking boots.
Just beyond Zillie’s I was stopped suddenly by the loud chatter of birds. This chattering sounded different than what the warblers on my street produced, so I pulled the binoculars up to my eyes and spotted handfuls of American robins in the juniper trees on either side of the street. Some were eating the berries; others were flying in arches or straight lines from one side of Back Road to the other, quickly hiding themselves in the thick green foliage. When they landed on a branch it was only a matter of seconds before they were hidden amongst the berries and greenery of the tree, but still I stood there, across the street from Zillie’s, waiting for one of them to pop out to I could take a photo. Several did pop out, but were gone by the time I’d focused and zoomed in the lens. After several large pick-up trucks passed by and everything became quiet again, a robin appeared. It even stayed in the same place long enough for me snap a few photos! Finalyyyyyyy!
Then, satisfied with the few shots I was able to capture, I carried on. I turned left onto British Cemetery Road and heard a lot of the same; American robins and Yellow-rumped warblers were chirping and tweeting from the various trees in people’s yards. Next I turned right onto Highway 12 and spotted a sole Common loon having a swim. Flying around were a few gulls, but I was a bit surprised there weren’t more shore birds present. No pelicans in sight, very few gulls, and the one loon. I also thought it odd to have seen zero ducks up to this point in my walk. Just beyond the Anchorage Inn I turned right onto Nubbins Ridge Road, a cute one-lane gravel road. The Wahab House was on my left, and as I kept venturing down the road I came to a lone bird perched on a power line. I could see from its size and body shape that this was a new bird to add to my count, so I got out the binoculars. Based on the size and shape alone I figured the bird was a Northern cardinal. Upon closer review – thanks to the binoculars – I saw a bit of blue! I snapped a couple photos before consulting the Merlin Bird ID app, and once I entered all of the bird’s information and listened to the sound recordings, I was confident it was a Blue Jay. Then my camera started acting up. It stopped taking photos! The screen kept reading “Image Unidentified”! Of course this sent me in to a bit of a panic, so I quickly walked home and replaced the SD card. Crisis averted. Shew.
When I was ready to head back out I decided to match my fabulous choice of clothing with an equally fabulous method of transportation: my tricycle. I would be covering some of the same ground again to get to other streets, so my thought was riding the tricycle would be more efficient. Plus it has an amazing rear basket that can hold a bunch of stuff, making it fabulous and practical. I’m used to the weight of my camera around my neck, but the binoculars were much heavier and became quite uncomfortable even after just a few minutes, so in the basket they went!
I headed back on various side streets and heard or saw the same birds I’ve already mentioned. As I approached the British Cemetery I heard a Blue Jay, so I added that one to my tally and carried on. When I came to the mouth of Silver Lake Harbor I looked out and noticed some ducks paddling around. As I was admiring the calm of the water and scenery around me, I noticed that what I thought were ducks were, in fact, not ducks. Well, I could tell they weren’t specifically mallards. On their faces, as if they applied some sort of cheek highlighter product the Kardashians swear by, was a brilliant white spot.
You know how excited you get when someone brings in cupcakes or donuts to work? That’s how I feel when I see a new animal, especially one I can photograph. That excitement increases when I can actually identify the animal specifically, then I usually text my mom because she gets juuuuust as excited as I do. As I’m quietly muttering “omgomgomgomgomgomgomg” to myself, I get out that handy Merlin Bird ID app and enter the information as instructed. “No, it’s not a Hooded Merganser *scrolling*; it’s not a Surf Scooter *scrolling some more*; definitely isn’t a Black-crowned night heron *continued scrolling*; Hmmmm…let me check out this Bufflehead.” Sure enough, out there in the mouth of Silver Lake Harbor, was either a juvenile or female Bufflehead! Success!
After covering a decent part of the village I headed home. I’d spotted and/or heard a handful of birds in the village, so I felt like this mission was accomplished. Eager to tell Peter what I’d found, I headed for home. All that excitement and exploring sure is fun, but it is also exhausting! One of the things I love about weekends is naptime, and that hour was rapidly approaching. I also had to pack for my trip to Portsmouth on New Year’s Day, which I’ll get to later. Happy New Year!
During the annual Christmas Bird Count, volunteers count species and numbers and provide data to the National Audubon Society. According to their website, "Audubon and other organizations use data collected in this long-running wildlife census to assess the health of bird populations, and to help guide conservation action." On Ocracoke and Portsmouth, the event is organized each year by local birder Peter Vankevich. Crystal is the Current's avian observer.
