
We carefully avoid stepping in it. We grumble as we wash it off our cars before the paint is ruined. It’s an important reason we birders wear hats. Yes, bird poop can be a real nuisance. But have you ever wondered why it is like it is?

It’s early morning, too early, I groan, but the air is full of sound. Even before the sun crosses the horizon, I can hear the birds calling, singing, squawking, and chirping, all right outside my open bedroom window. Granted, that’s what I get for putting the feeders up close to the house, where they can easily be seen. But still—all that noise, just because dawn is coming?
As I lay in bed, I can distinguish the cooing of the pigeons from the two similar calls of the Mourning Doves and Eurasian Collared-Doves. I know that most of the noise is coming from the flock of House Finches that seem to spend all their time in our yard. And that harsh screeching means the magpies have returned.

Here in Colorado, when it’s hot out on the plains, we head to the mountains. And there’s no better mountain to head to than Mt. Evans. No hiking required, unless you want to reach the 14,265 foot peak, and even that is only a quarter mile up a series of switchbacks from the summit parking lot. And while the view from the top is worth the effort, most of the really good stuff is on the way there. It’s a good metaphor for life.
If you were stymied on Monday, now can you name this bird? The photo was taken in Colorado in May. The answer will appear in Monday’s post.

This bird was photographed in Colorado in May. Can you name it? I will post the uncropped photo on Saturday, giving you one more chance to identify the bird. The answer will appear at the end of next Monday’s post.


Home to birds, mammals, reptiles, and very nice people—Audubon’s Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary has it all. Last winter I made my second visit there, five years after the first. It may have been snowing at home in Colorado, but southern Florida was supposed to be warm—wasn’t it? The day before had been lovely, but this morning dawned damp and gray, with tendrils of fog creeping over the wetlands. I arrived at 7, just as the admissions office opened, knowing I had to be done to meet Pete for lunch. Well, a late lunch, at least! I wanted to make the most of my time as I walked the 2.25 mile boardwalk.
Every year, the American Ornithological Society (AOU) reviews a number of proposed changes to the classification of North American birds. This affects the definitive list on which we birders base our life lists. Species may be added or deleted. Sometimes, a species is divided into two or more new species, such as the split of the Western Scrub-Jay a few years ago. (I gained a new life species as a result, as I have seen and photographed both the California Scrub-Jay and Woodhouse’s Scrub-Jay.)
Other times, species may be lumped together—what was once considered two species is now thought to be only one, with various subspecies. Sometimes, entire genera are moved into new families. Or, a species remains unchanged, but the name is updated, as when the Gray Jay became officially known as a Canada Jay.
Brown-headed Cowbirds have a bad reputation. A lot of birders don’t like them because they seem to be shirking their parental duties. Because they are obligate brood parasites—they don’t build their own nests, and only lay their eggs in the nests of other species—we accuse them of taking advantage of other species by forcing them into doing all the work of feeding a hungry nestling. It’s unfair. We’re indignant.
If you were stymied on Monday, now can you name this bird? The photo was taken in Florida in January. The answer will appear in Monday’s post.

This bird was photographed in Florida in January. Can you name it? I will post the uncropped photo on Saturday, giving you one more chance to identify the bird. The answer will appear at the end of next Monday’s post.
