Why I'm a Birder: Loving the Places They've Brought Me

I've finally been reading The Big Year by Mark Obmascik. It's the story of three obsessive birders and their race to see the most species in North America in a year. The book inspired the Steve Martin/Jack Black/Owen Wilson film of the same name.

Early in the book the author describes one of the competitors, wealthy businessman Al Levantin, who kicks off his Big Year spotting mountain birds from skis in his home base of Aspen:

"That was the thing with Levantin: he loved the birds, but he really loved the places they brought him. When you spend your career in the confines of a gray suit, the pipits at dawn above timberline are even more wondrous. He lived to be in the field."

That rang so true for me that it practically leapt from the page, shimmering in gold.

~~~ He loved the birds, but he really loved the places they brought him. ~~~

I don't mean exotic new locations, though maybe someday birding will take me to some of those. I mean that my growing interest in birds has gently led me into the natural world, as well as into places that might also be described as states of mind: the wondrousness of the pipits at dawn.

What are some places birding has taken me?

Outdoors.
Woods. Prairie. Trails. Ponds. Riverbanks.

The frozen Missisippi in winter, looking for bald eagles.
The first ice-free pond that hosts migrating ducks in the spring.
The Christmas Bird Count, spent driving slowly along rural roads looking for every single bird we can spot.

Barely leafed-out woods in May, looking and listening for warblers.
A driving trip up the Northern California coast: oystercatchers and thousands of marbled godwits.
A hilly hike in a Bay Area wilderness area, in search of golden eagles.
Sewage ponds. Yes, sewage ponds.

REI.
Good hiking shoes. Caps that shade the eyes. Quick-dry trousers with zip-off legs.
The idea that it's okay to invest modestly in some gear for what makes you happy.
Tentative experimentation with snowshoes.

Photography.
A better camera.
A huge proportion of this blog.

The Carleton Arboretum and River Bend Nature Center in all seasons.
The Minnesota Master Naturalist Class.
The Pothole and Prairie Birding Festival in North Dakota.
Plans to witness the sandhill crane migration in Nebraska this spring.

Listening. Looking. Scanning the sky or a body of water. Intently gazing into trees or shrubs.
And, at last, a new comfort being alone in a natural area. A sense of freedom and empowerment.

   

Let me say more about that last thing, because it's one of the biggies.

I lived mostly in large cities until moving to Northfield almost 25 years ago. I knew people who went hiking and backpacking and camping, and in fact my high school was quite into such things, but I didn't ever get much experience with those activities outside of organized groups, and though I admired people who did them, they didn't really call to me.

Also, in the city or outside it, I was always aware that danger might lurk in the bushes. And, terribly, there were reports of murdered hikers reinforcing the point.

Even when I got to this safe small town, my city instincts followed me. Maybe I didn't still carry my keys pointing out between my fingers when walking to my car at night, but a woman (especially a small, not particularly athletic woman) alone in a park or the woods or on a hiking trail was vulnerable. You didn't put yourself into that situation. At least, that's how it continued to feel to me.

Until I had enough reason to want to. And that's what the birds gave me.

It's taken me a long time to realize what I'd missed -- that sense of freedom and empowerment that I mentioned above -- and birding is what finally got me there. But it's not all about the birds anymore. Being out in the natural world has become intrinsically rewarding in a way it really wasn't for me, before.

I still don't feel called to feats of solo distance hiking like Cheryl Strayed, or my sister-in-law Bethany who hiked the John Muir Trail solo in 2012. One of the things I've always said I like about birding is it gets you outside without having to be too strenuous about it.

But an early morning hour or so wandering by myself in the Arb, River Bend, or other natural areas nearby, entirely at my own pace, choosing my route, camera and binoculars ready for whatever I may discover ... bliss.

Thank you, birds.

Sunday at CRWA, with Scarlet Tanager

Having heard a report that the cold, rainy weather on Saturday had resulted in a major warbler fallout, stopping migrating birds in large numbers, on Sunday morning we headed to the west branch of the Cannon River Wilderness Area between Northfield and Faribault. While we did not see large numbers of birds, there was a good variety of species to be seen.

Warblers take some patience, because they don't stay still. They are insect-eaters, and they constantly flit to find and follow the insects. You walk slowly and quietly through the woods, listening for bird calls and letting your eyes adjust so that they start to tune into every tiny movement in the leaves, from ground level all the way up to the treetops, and you start to see them. Various species prefer particular levels in the wooded environment.

Here is a view of the trail we took. The slow spring delayed leafing-out, so that the small birds were still relatively visible if you took the time to watch for them. Some years, the trees are fully leafed-out by now and it's almost a hopeless task to try to find these little creatures in the trees.

Woodland trail, Cannon River Wilderness Area

I didn't even try to photograph any of the warblers we saw. They included:

• Bay-breasted Warbler (absolutely gorgeous with its chestnut, cream and black coloring; a new favorite. Here's a photo from the Cornell Lab of Ornithology, though I don't think it does justice to how gorgeous this bird is real life.)
• Chestnut-sided Warbler
• Blackburnian Warbler (stunning with its bright orange throat)
• Orange-crowned Warbler
• Black-and-white Warbler
• Blackpoll Warbler
• Common Yellowthroat
• Yellow-rumped Warbler
• Yellow Warbler
• American Redstart 

But the highlight of the outing was my first view ever of scarlet tanagers. In the light green environment of the spring woods, it is hard to imagine anything more shiningly brilliant than this lovely bird.

Cannon River Wilderness Area

We made a quick outing to the west branch of the Cannon River Wilderness Area late this afternoon. I love this old bridge that arches high over the Cannon.

It is almost literally a bridge to nowhere. There is a lone camping site on the far side, and the established trail seems to peter out into, at best, thin paths through the greenery to who knows where. I guess this is why they call it a wilderness area.

The view above is from the bridge looking upstream (southwest-ish at this point, I believe). Last time we were here, probably 2-3 years ago, we saw a magnificent great blue heron fishing from the right side of the river here. Today we were on the lookout for herons and kingfishers, but saw neither. (On the wooded path away from the river, we did see and hear an eastern wood-pewee and a white-breasted nuthatch, and near the parking area we saw a great crested flycatcher, with its yellow belly and rusty tail, flitting about.)

This is the more closed-in view facing downstream. It was very quiet and peaceful as we stood and leaned on the wooden railing. We heard an occasional crow cawing or insect buzzing, but very little else.

Looking straight down, the water was light brown but clear, and we were commenting on the lack of visible fish when this quite large (10-14"?) specimen swam into view, traveling downstream. I've enhanced the contrast on this photo and am quite pleased with the effect. I don't know what kind of fish it was, but it had a noticeably reddish tail.

A Day of May Birding - CRWA and Carleton Arb

Click on the photos to see much more detail.

We took the day off today to seek out migratory songbirds in the eastern reaches of the Cannon River Wilderness Area. Wildflowers were in evidence everywhere, and the trees were alive with the calls and songs of birds we could usually see only for a second or two at a time, if at all, as they flitted among the newly leafy (and luckily some not yet so leafy) branches. We soon realized that American redstarts were all around us. This strikingly colored member of the warbler family is a darkish gray with bright orange patches on the wings and tail. They live in Minnesota year-round.


As we walked through dappled woodland, we either heard or caught quick glimpses of indigo bunting, catbird, blue jay, Nashville warbler, yellow warbler, yellow-rumped warbler, house wren, common yellowthroat, and eastern wood-peewee. Several of these are just migrating through our area on their way to breeding grounds farther north.


The trail leads eventually to a savannah area open to the sky. This is a favorite area of mine, which at the top of the rise has a wide but secluded view and is a great place to watch turkey vultures and hawks ride the thermals over the surrounding hills. We were surprised to find evidence that quite an extensive area had been burned since our last visit. Mature trees did not seem to have been much damaged, but the low growth had clearly been burned out and was experiencing regeneration.


Up in this more open environment, we saw American goldfinches, brownheaded cowbirds, wood thrush, hermit thrush, a couple of ruby-throated hummingbirds, turkey vultures. and another unidentified soaring raptor.


These pink-tinted blossoms covered a small tree along the path. I think it is a kind of crab apple, but it might be a member of the plum family.

After a lunch break and some downtime, we headed over to the Upper Arb at Carleton to see what else we could see. Things were relatively quiet; we were there before the birds got active for their late-afternoon feeding time. The highlight of that visit was a giant oak delightfully populated with quite a flock of cedar waxwings. While I had one in view through the binoculars, another approached it and a moment later they appeared to be kissing. My resident bird expert tells me that this is food presentation by the male to the female, part of the courtship ritual that presumably demonstrates his willingness and ability to provide. Anyway, it was a charming moment and I felt lucky to have had the chance to see it.

We also saw several jewel-like tree swallows, their irridescent wings shining metallic blue in the sunlight, on or near nesting boxes that have been built in some of the young restored savannah areas, and finally we saw the other resident of those boxes we had been watching for: an eastern bluebird, our first of the season. The bluebird is a member of the thrush family; together with the two thrushes we had seen at the CRWA, a Swainson's thrush seen on our neighbor's lawn this morning, and the ever-present American robin, that made it a five-thrush day.


After we'd been back home for an hour or so, we were amused to discover an even larger congregation of the gorgeous cedar waxwings in two large just-leafing-out trees adjacent to our house. The photo above is one of the best I was able to get, since the birds don't stay still long.