DUNCANVILLE, TEXAS — Cogresha from Earth House Hold tagged me with a birding meme. I thought the questions were interesting, so here goes:

1. What is the coolest bird you have seen from your home?
   My first difficulty here is defining the word home. Even if I could work that out, which isn’t likely, my perennial inability to choose a favorite anything presents another problem. I lived in a house in Papua New Guinea for several months, and from the deck, I could watch Great Woodswallows and Rainbow Bee-eaters and Yellow-breasted Bowerbirds to name a few. Pretty cool, yes? I have seen Bay-breasted and Blackburnian warblers, Rusty Blackbirds, and Wood Ducks at my parents’ home in Missouri. One day, there was a Monk Parakeet outside the apartment where I’m living now.
2. If you compose lists of bird species seen, what is your favorite list and why?
   I really only keep a life list, so this makes my choice of favorites a bit easier. I enjoy looking back over my list and remembering the triumphant, serendipitous, frustrating, and exhilarating moments that the entries represent. I remember places, people, and details of the experiences when I look back at the list. Too, the list reminds me how much of the world remains to be seen!
3. What sparked your interest in birds?
   My interest in birds goes back as long as I can remember. I think I made my first life list before I was 10 — maybe even before I was eight. But I did not become a really serious birder until my family moved to a house on a semi-wooded lot in Missouri, and I discovered all manner of warblers, vireos, sparrows, and flycatchers in the trees. At that time (c. 1999), I discovered birding communities on the Internet. Then, my interest running high, I went on my first birding trip ever — a field trip with Greater Ozarks Audubon in May or June 2000. That was the tipping point. That field trip changed the course of my life.
4. If you could only bird in one place for the rest of your life where would it be and why?
   I’m not ready to settle down just yet. But if I had to choose right now, I’d probably pick somewhere on the Texas Gulf Coast — perhaps the Bolivar Peninsula or South Padre Island. If I lived on the Gulf Coast, I could become a real expert at shorebirds, gulls, and terns, learning their ages, habits, plumages, and voices inside and out. Passerine migration is virtually unparalleled, and the waterbirds are abundant and spectacular. And you never quite know what’s going to blow in off the Gulf. But I haven’t made it to the Pacific Northwest yet, or Maine, or Southeast Asia, or Eastern Africa, or New Caledonia, or the taiga….
5. Do you have a jinx bird? What is it and why is it jinxed?
   I’m still missing too many birds to single one out. However, the King Rail comes to mind — I still don’t have one despite repeated efforts in suitable locations.
6. Who is your favorite birder? and why?
   I think a good birder should be like a good well — deep, full, quiet, and refreshing. I enjoy the company of birders who are passionate, curious, and knowledgeable but never (or only judiciously) obnoxious.
7. Do you tell non-birders you are a birder? What do they say to you when they find out?
   No, not until they get to know me well. Some people ask to come along on my next trip. Some think it makes me (in the words of a former roommate) “a cool nerd.” Others don’t know what to say. That’s OK.

I’d like to know more about Patrick, Jochen, and Rusty, so I’m tagging them to answer these seven questions too.

DUNCANVILLE, TEXAS — Here are a few updates on recent stories:

Grenada Dove (Grenada Dove’s existence threatened by sale of park)

BirdLife International says that despite mounting pressure, Grenada’s government is still considering the sale of a national park to a resort company. The government, apparently, wants to have its cake and eat it too. Meanwhile, an excellent post by Nic Winkler in Grenada reminds us that the issues at stake are very complex and their consequences far-reaching. Good on you, Nic.

Texas GBBC results (A few more cowbirds for the GBBC)

I said earlier that Texas probably recorded more species than any other state during this year’s Great Backyard Bird Count. But between continuing checklist submissions in and ongoing data review, Texas and California are neck and neck. The final tally could swing either way.

Reviewers sorting through the Texas results have disqualified several wacky reports. Perhaps the most bizarre was the report of a Passenger Pigeon!

I intend no unkindness to new or inexperienced birders, but this sort of absurdity is one reason that “citizen science” is looked down on by some. Reports of long-extinct or far out-of-range species are relatively easy to detect and eliminate, but the submission of such reports suggests that countless subtler errors are slipping through. However, organizers of events like the GBBC apparently believe that the risk is acceptable, that the benefits outweigh the confusion, and that millions of records aggregated over the years can in fact tell us something about our birds — even if someone did try to report a Passenger Pigeon from Conroe, Texas.

DNA barcodes (1,000 new bird species?)

Will a recently published paper usher in a whole new round of splits and lumps? Well … it appears that the original intent of the paper has been distorted by media coverage and hasty conclusions, as Bob Powell pointed out on BirdChat. In response to a message on Texbirds last night, I posted the following:

Unfortunately, some of the news stories and headlines that this research has inspired are misleading. This headline (”Genetics Reveal 15 New N.American Bird Species”) is particularly bad.

From the original paper’s abstract: “DNA barcoding seeks to assemble a standardized reference library for DNA-based identification of eukaryotic species. The utility and limitations of this approach need to be tested on well-characterized taxonomic assemblages.”

In other words, the researchers were testing the validity of the “barcode” idea by comparing their results against a relatively accepted standard. When their results differed from the standard, they tried to come up with hypotheses to explain the inconsistencies.

One hypothesis was that there could be unrecognized species in North America (surprise!). But that doesn’t mean that it’s the right answer, or the only answer.

Science can’t be stuffed into a headline.

The paper has generated discussion in all the major online birding communities, and some birders have had nothing but harsh words for the barcode project.

Bird blogs around the world

Today, I added several more bird blogs to my blogroll. My blogroll is not intended to be an exhaustive list; rather, it presents the blogs I enjoy reading regularly. As the number of bird blogs grows, I’m left wondering how many more I’ll be able to handle. Though I am a child of the computer age, I am still amazed that I have instant access to prose, poetry, photos, audio, and video of birds and birders from Estonia to Australia and Nunavut to Antarctica!

For a look at some of the recent bird-related posts from around the blogosphere, have a look at I and the Bird #43. This edition is hosted by Tai Haku, who regularly posts spectacular images of Caribbean marine life.

GREENE CO., MO. — Inspired by Lake Superior State University’s List of Banished Words, I’ve compiled (with apologies to the good university) a List of Words Banished from the Birding World for Mis-Use, Over-Use and General Uselessness:

RELOCATED — Unless a birder captured the rarity under discussion and transported it to another location (which, aside from being illegal, could spark violent reprisals from other twitchers), he or she cannot correctly claim to have “relocated” the bird. On the other hand, maybe this explains why some people get all the good birds. You know who you are.

SP. — If you couldn’t identify it, then don’t report it. The instances in which “meadowlark sp.” or “Accipiter sp.” represent data of use to scientists or of interest to other birders are few and far between. Try harder next time, people.

WARBLERAMA — I’ll alert the media — or should we call a doctor?

MY FIELD GUIDE DOESN’T SHOW THIS BIRD — Yes, it does.

I KNOW PILEATEDS, AND THAT WAS NO PILEATED — No, you don’t, and yes, it was. You’re not allowed to talk for the next three days.

IBWO/IVORY-BILL/CONFIRMED SIGHTING/LEAP OF FAITH — This issue has stirred up more vitriol and hard feelings in the birding community than anything else I can think of. The slightest mention of the species is flamebait. Many civilized birders have given up talking about the situation, and I think everybody else should as well. Leave it to the folks who actually understand what’s going on. Hint: That isn’t you.

DIP/DIPPED — Far be it from me to criticize another dialect of our esteemed mother tongue, but this British-ism for missing a target bird has got to be one of the dumbest expressions I’ve ever heard.

X-BILL — This pseudo-abbreviation for “crossbill” is just plain annoying. By the time you actually find the key to make a hyphen, you’ve used up more time than you would have if you’d just typed it right in the first place.

BIRDERS FLOCK — No editor, it seems, can pass up this tired, sloppy pun in a headline about a rare bird and the people who wanted to see it.

FALLOUT — I’m placing a one-year moratorium on this word, which gets tossed around whenever somebody finds three Indigo Buntings in the same tree. In fact, evidence indicates that true fallouts rarely, if ever, occur these days as many bird populations continue to decline.

GREENE CO., MO. — I think I’m having an identity crisis.

Reading about the Ivory-billed Woodpecker controversy stirred everything up again. April’s news that the woodpecker’s existence had been confirmed sent thrills through all of us — but now a throng of skeptics are trying their best to argue that the hope was a false one.

And why? A quest for truth? A valiant attempt to deal fairly and realistically with the scraps of evidence we have, even if it results in ridicule and hostility? Jealousy? Bloated egos clashing with cataclysmic force? Late-summer doldrums?

Who are these people we call birders? Who am I?

There are the I-know-mockingbirds-and-that’s-no-mockingbird birders. Jason and I have laughed about them for years. They’re the ones who call nature centers around the country and try to convince overworked volunteers that their parakeet escaped and hybridized with a chickadee. They’re the ones who write drivel like this.

But sparrows and Blue Jays bring pleasure to those people. Who says they have to know the difference between a Black Rail and a Song Sparrow? Do I have a right to be impatient with them just because they can correctly identify about 5 species?

There are the power birders. They run in packs and have the best equipment money can buy. They are outspoken, oft-published, and well-dressed. They are looked on with the same sense of awe that those in other circles reserve for drugged-up, muscle-bound thugs in jerseys. They publish pages full of eye candy and/or reports of their trips/conversations/opinions of power.

They do a lot to advance the cause of conservation and increase knowledge about our birds. Who would begrudge them their opportunities? Who would lose sleep because the power birders are obnoxious? Do I want to be like one of them or not?

There are the academic birders. They do their best to uncover birds who have wandered far from home — birds that are tattered, worn, slightly quirky, and very sneaky. They spend hours on gulls and shorebirds especially, convinced that ONE of the thousands of birds before them must have taken a wrong turn somewhere south of Thailand. They attempt to estimate feather lengths within just two or three millimeters.

Maybe some birders really are that good. Maybe they aren’t just wishing birds onto their lists; maybe they’re better than all of us. But can I be skeptical? What does it say of me if I confess I have no interest in golden-plover primary projection?

There are the listserv leeches, the tickers, the Bambi birders, and the birders whom some of us have long suspected actually use performance-enhancing drugs. But I don’t have time to discuss all of them.

Then there’s me. Where do I fit in? As always, I like to think I’ve found something of a happy medium, given my resources, commitments, and priorities. But maybe I’m as hopeless as all the rest. Or maybe we’re all OK. Or maybe I really AM the only one who’s got it right.

It’s almost September. Come quickly, fall migrants. Deliver me from this brooding.

LONGVIEW, TEXAS — Last night, Shroud told me that Molly’s eggs had hatched. He was very excited: “We’re grandparents!”

So this morning, I went off to photograph the young House Finches, but I stopped by the dining hall first for breakfast. I ended up eating with the director of campus security, who cuts quite a figure with his cowboy boots and thin but remarkably vertical hair. He asked me what I was going to photograph, and I told him (with a tinge of embarrassment) about the birds nesting in front of my friends’ apartment.

“What kind of birds?”

“House Finches,” I said. “They’re, uh, small…” I gestured with a thumb and forefinger.

“I’m a bird watcher.”

Thankfully, I didn’t drop my spoon. YOU are?

He went on, in his East Texas drawl, to tell me about his four feeders and eight male cardinals and the other visitors, including one he was especially proud of. “A deal called a Blue Grosbeak,” he said. He described the bird with what I guess I’d have to call enthusiasm, and it did indeed sound like a Blue Grosbeak.

Will wonders never cease?

The nestlings seem very young — two or three days at most, I’d guess.