I have been birding since birth. Admittedly, I was more focused on walking, talking and potty-training in the early years. My avian interactions involved a rubber duckie bath toy.
Nonetheless, having celebrated or endured a major milestone birthday this week, I lay claim to 70 years of birding experience.
After all this time, there are some things I thought I would improve.
I am mentally unprepared for rarities. Nathan Dubrow is Schoodic Institute’s lead naturalist for this year’s Sea Watch at Acadia’s Schoodic Point. Last week, while tallying passing sea ducks, he identified an immature Franklin’s gull — a petite, black-headed gull that is easy to find in Saskatchewan, impossible to find in Maine.
I would have misidentified it, even if it was an adult. Nathan identified a wandering youngster in obscure plumage.
Also last week, a Swainson’s hawk turned up in Lamoine. This is a species from the northern plains, west of the Mississippi. I would have passed it off as an oddly-colored red-tailed hawk.
Too often, I see what I expect to see. If a bird looks unusual, I assume I must be mistaken. You’d think I would give myself more credit.
I thought by now I would easily identify most birds on this continent. But I’ve just returned from a trip to Oregon, where I was harshly reminded of my limitations. I can feign expertise in Maine, and bird with the best of them across eastern and southern states. But when I’m west of the Mississippi, my confidence plummets.
I know what many of those western birds look like. I can identify them on sight. But I don’t know what they sound like, or how they behave. I don’t know where to find them. Stuff that is easy for me in Maine is still difficult far from home.
On the other hand, I’ve birded California, Oregon, Washington and Alaska. I’m getting quicker at identifying western birds. Maybe I should give myself more credit.
No. There are plenty of birds I still screw up right here at home. Some of it is basic stuff. Pileated woodpeckers and northern flickers have similar calls. Somehow, my ears have a blind spot, and I still mix them up occasionally.
Waterfowl are in eclipse plumage this time of year. That is, males have molted to the drabbest brown they can manage, looking like females. I still struggle to identify blue-winged and green-winged teal in October. Northern shovelers are tough, too. I’ve had a lifetime of practice, or malpractice, identifying autumn ducks.
The birding world is full of difficult pairs. Cooper’s and sharp-shinned hawks are nearly identical, save that the Cooper’s hawk is larger. I know all the subtle signs to look for. My identifications are probably correct most of the time, but darned if I have any confidence doing it.
Common and Arctic terns are tough to tell apart. Even when I know what to look for, it’s wicked difficult. Unfortunately, these are birds that are often seen on puffin trips, and people look to the “expert” to help them. Ummm. OK.
I’m grateful that king rails and clapper rails are in the east but aren’t in Maine, because they are virtually identical. Thank goodness marsh wrens are in Maine and sedge wrens mostly aren’t, because they’re even tougher to tell apart. If I ever declare certainty in identifying either of these twins, doubt me.
Ditto for Bicknell’s and gray-cheeked thrushes. The former lives on Maine mountaintops. The latter nests in Newfoundland, but migrates through Maine in autumn. Most of them fly right over, and that’s fine with me, because I won’t even pretend I can tell them apart.
But neither can anybody else. Maybe I should give myself more credit.
I should care more about gulls. Adults aren’t that hard, but most species take from three to five years to reach maturity. Meanwhile, they go through variations that are both mystifying and boring. Scores of species exist worldwide, and some are apt to wander. I muddle through.
Science isn’t helping. Species are regularly split and lumped. In 2021, the mew gull was reclassified into two distinct species: common gulls from Greenland to Europe, and short-billed gulls along the American west coast.
Last year, one of them turned up in Eastport, and there was a lot of expert hand-wringing trying to figure out which one it was. Common gull was the consensus. I can’t remember the identification difference between the two.
But then again, I can’t remember where I left the car keys.
