Are you interested in birds? Do you enjoy counting them, listing them, or watching them cavort around your backyard birdfeeder? Would you like that interest to benefit more than your natural curiosity and enjoyment?
There are lots of ways that you, as a birder, can make a significant contribution to science. You don’t need to be an expert birder. It doesn’t matter how old—or young—you are. You don’t need to don a white lab coat or, in some cases, even leave the house. In fact, you can do science in your bathrobe!
We had been camping at Turquoise Lake, near Leadville, Colorado, high in the Rockies. As it was lunchtime, we spread out a tablecloth, set out a bowl of chicken salad (with chicken, grapes, celery, and pecans), and went to find the plates and forks. But as I returned to set the table, the salad seemed to be missing something… the pecans were gone! Seems we’d been victims of the camp robber!
At some time of another, most birders have a “nemesis bird”—that species you really want to see but you always seem to show up a minute too late. Or you show up in the wrong spot. Or you hear, “We always get that bird on this trip; I don’t know why it’s not here now!”
After a fox attack last spring, we’re down to only three aging hens and six five-month-old pullets. Instead of giving eggs to all our friends, I’ve had to buy them at the market. So this morning, after being out of town for the weekend, I walked out to the coop hoping to find an egg, or maybe two. Instead, there were close to a dozen!
Male ducks don’t look anything like female ducks, at least during the breeding season. And you can easily tell the boy Black-headed Grosbeaks (right) from the girls (below)… in fact, they don’t look like they even belong to the same species! But with lots of birds, from Steller’s Jays to Canada Geese, it seems that only they know who is who.
It’s time to clean out the chicken coop. All summer my little flock has been happily picking weed and grass seeds out of the straw I spread in their coop last spring. At the same time, they’ve broken down the big pieces of grass stem into finer shreds. And, best of all, they’re balanced all that carbon with some nice, hot chicken manure.
Honk, honk
This year, the birds planted themselves a garden.
Yesterday morning, I went out to tend my flock, and realized that my new pullets, hatched around June 1, were nearly the same size as my mature hens. When they were mere children, they fit just fine in their twelve square foot cage (above). (For their safety, it’s important to separate young birds from the main flock.) Now, however, it was clear that they needed more room. Although I had planned to wait until next month, I decided this was the time to release them into the main coop.
Mountain Plover 