One of my dearest friends called me this afternoon to report that the birds had been exceedingly good to her over the past two weeks. She had managed to see five life birds, three of them warblers (not an easy accomplishment in the relatively warbler-deprived Pacific Northwest). I was extremely happy to hear her good news but I was perhaps even more gladdened to partake in her excitement over her good birding fortunes, for it is this very excitement that I hope never to, but sometimes fear that I am, losing.
The last bird whose name I added to my life list was the Common Black-hawk, Buteogallus anthracinus, I saw while attending the Verde Valley Birding & Nature Festival in Cottonwood, Arizona this past April. The one before that was a Cackling Goose, Branta hutchinsii, I observed on Sauvie Island in Oregon back in March of 2007 following the AOU’s decision to split the subspecies of the Canada Goose, Branta Canadensis, into two distinct species. Such is the domestic birding life when one’s life list acquires a bit of length following a good few years in the field.
A very good friend of mine, actually more than one as I know quite a few people in this situation, have so few land birds left to record as life birds in the U.S. that they will likely go years without recording one. One fellow is essentially down to Eurasian Tree Sparrow, Passer montanus, for his U.S. list (he knows where they are found; he just hasn’t gone there yet). Another chap requires only a Flame-colored Tanager, Piranga bidentata. Fortunately, I haven’t the need to contend with such challenges quite yet.
I remember well the days when I merely had to step out the door or walk out into a field in order to find a new bird species to observe and record. It was glorious. Every trip promised something new. Now, a little older and grayer of beard, new bird species are only expected to find their way onto my life list following long airplane flights.
Not that I’m complaining, mind you. I relish the confidence I now take into the field, something I could never have dreamed of having when first I began my study of birds. I particularly enjoy helping those new to the adventure – partly because I enjoy sharing the discovery of the natural world with others and partly to share in the vicarious joy of their wonder at each new discovery. It is that self-same joy I get from each conversation with my above mentioned friend; one that I dearly hope she will forever share with me in the same spirit of wonder and excitement.
Peace and good bird watching.
