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Beverly Mills Gyllenhaal

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In a world turned upside-down, birds can help restore some sanity

by Beverly Mills Gyllenhaal
written by Beverly Mills Gyllenhaal

Second of two parts

There’s not a lot to be optimistic about during the virus meltdown, but here’s something bird enthusiasts can celebrate: The news is full of suggestions that people take up birdwatching to battle stay-at-home boredom and anxiety.

As birders all know, the more people get interested in birds, the more likely they are to want our state and federal government agencies to protect them.

A Carolina Chickadee among the buds outside our window / Photos by Anders Gyllenhaal

I’m still giddy over the Slate magazine article a few days ago with the headline: “You Have No Choice But to Become a Backyard Birder.”

Slate’s article is a terrific, step-by-step guide on how to morph from a person who sort of likes birds into one who could possibly become a serious birder one day. Click here for the story.

This isn’t the only “Bird Now” headline landing in my Google feed. I’ve seen similar stories from local radio and television stations, newspapers and news websites.

“Riotous Explosion of Life Awaits Birding Newbies in This Stay-at-home Era” proclaims the March 28 headline from NPR station WHYY in Philadelphia.

 “[Birding] is a time-tested way of putting things back in perspective and realizing that life does go on and will go on,” said Jeffrey Gordon, president of the American Birding Association, in the WHYY interview. “It feels like a perfect fit.” Here’s that story. 

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Here’s some good news: How a finicky, focused bird made its way back

by Beverly Mills Gyllenhaal
written by Beverly Mills Gyllenhaal

A couple of days ago someone asked me what bird I’ve found most interesting to write about so far. The answer caught me by surprise – it was the Red-cockaded Woodpecker, the only endangered woodpecker in the country and the bird I happened to be researching at that very moment.

When you hear how finicky this bird is, you’ll understand why he’s so fascinating – and why he was headed toward extinction 50 years ago.

An adult Red-cockaded Woodpecker shops for food/Photos by Anders Gyllenhaal

For starters, the Red-cockaded Woodpecker can only survive by boring a hole 20 feet high in either a loblolly pine or a longleaf pine. (Yes, just two trees.) The tree needs to be at least 70 years old. Furthermore, the pine has to be alive, but its heart must be diseased and starting to rot.

To make matters worse, each bird requires its own hole in its own tree. While the Red-cockaded does live in cooperative family groups, they refuse to cohabitate.

They don’t tolerate neighbors either, so it takes from 3 to 60 acres of old southern pine forest to support one family’s lifestyle. Let another Red-cockaded try to cross its boundaries, and the resident woodpeckers will chase it off.

From time to time, in order to stay healthy, nature demands that these forests catch on fire to clear the understory of hardwood trees that impede the woodpecker’s flight and to destroy smaller vegetation that harbors its predators. (The fire doesn’t harm the birds. They fly out of the way and return when the flames peter out.)

A recap: Each Red-cockaded Woodpecker family needs at least three acres of charred forest in the Southeast with one of two types of pine trees that are 70+ years old and dying but not dead.

Without it, the entire species goes caput.

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Here are 5 top-flight gift ideas for your favorite birder

by Beverly Mills Gyllenhaal
written by Beverly Mills Gyllenhaal

Finding holiday gifts for birders is relatively easy since birders tend to love all things birdy. And there are a lot of birdy gifts out there. The challenge is targeting the type of birder you’re dealing with, and then homing in on just the right choice for them.

Here are my five personal favorites for 2019:

1) If your spouse or someone else in your immediate family is an enthusiastic, shout-it-from-the-rooftops type birder, visit your local motor vehicles office for a personalized license plate.

Nicolas Lund, a.k.a. The Birdist, who writes about birding for the Audubon website, has this to say about spotting personalized plates: “I knew immediately that these people were my people. I didn’t even need to meet them. Personalized plates could be a great way to let everyone know how much you love birds without having to say a word.”  Click here for Lund’s entertaining essay. 

2) If your birders love to be in fields and forests, they really need tick protection.

Specially treated socks

Ticks are nasty creatures and cause a host of diseases in addition to Lyme. The best way to stay safe is to wear clothing treated with permethrin, a synthetic version of a chemical produced naturally by the chrysanthemum flower. Permethrin is EPA-approved for clothing, and it kills or disables ticks, mosquitoes, ants, flies, chiggers and midges on contact.

Although you can spray your own clothes with permethrin, there are factory-treated items containing the industry standard 0.52 percent permethrin that will last for 70 washes as opposed to four or so with the spray. So my favorite stocking stuffer this year will be these Insect Shield Sport Crew Socks for $10.95. You can find them for sale here. 

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Recruiting new birders at the Airstream Rally: Have I lost my mind?

by Beverly Mills Gyllenhaal
written by Beverly Mills Gyllenhaal

With only a few days to go until our “Beginner’s Guide to Birding” seminar at the 62nd International Airstream Rally, I still couldn’t figure out what to say. When Anders and I volunteered to do the talk months before, the mission seemed simple: Persuade our fellow campers to try their hand at birding.

We had just parked our trailer alongside 700 other Airstreams on a sweltering July afternoon at The Meadow Event Park in Doswell, Virginia. More than 1,000 members of local Airstream clubs had migrated from across the U.S. and Canada for this annual week-long gathering.

Some of the vintage Airstreams at the rally

Spread before us was a sea of silver: Iconic Airstreams, the oldest dating back to 1947, the largest at 34 feet and 5 tons, and all of them gleaming. American flags, state flags, and local chapter flags proudly flew from the bowsprits. Scattered flocks of plastic pink flamingos, the de facto Airstream mascot, greeted folks passing by.

The splendor of it all took my breath away. But then came a severe case of nerves about this upcoming talk. I truly believe people who spend so much time camping could enjoy life more – and perhaps live longer according to scientific studies – by simply tuning in to the birds all around them. So I soldiered on.

My assignment was to craft a short but helpful sales pitch. But what if nobody showed up? And if they did, how could I communicate the thrill of the hunt and the overwhelming dose of awe each time we track down a new species?

Baltimore Oriole

This stage fright was not without cause. Lots of people ask us how we came to be birders in the first place. We start to explain, and nearly always, by a couple of sentences in, their eyes glaze over. Or else it becomes obvious that what they really want to know is how on Earth we completely lost our minds.

Family and friends have watched us cram all manner of stuff into a 23-foot “mobile home” and buy a Ford F150 to haul it around for weeks on end. (Our daughter’s reaction: “But you’re not truck people!”)

It doesn’t help that what we tend to talk about is which species we saw during spring migration. We launch into anxious diatribes on habitat loss, plus detailed descriptions of which bird eats what and why it matters. I frequently lose my train of thought at the sound of any chirp, squawk or tweet I don’t recognize.

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What’s this bird? How a drab little guy stumped the experts

by Beverly Mills Gyllenhaal
written by Beverly Mills Gyllenhaal

When you upload a bird photo to the terrific Facebook group called “What’s This Bird?” you tend to get an identification back in a matter of seconds.

A few nights ago, however, something was wrong.

I like to count how long it takes for my mystery bird to be pegged, and it’s rare that even five seconds tick by before several veteran birders on the Facebook site from the American Bird Association agree on the species.

Here’s the bird that kept everyone guessing.

But this time I had uploaded a photo of a small, greenish-gray bird – drab except for white bars on its wings. I knew from my guidebook that this bird was a type of Flycatcher, but which one?

East of the Mississippi River this time of year, the guidebook showed eight very similar possibilities: The Yellow-bellied, Acadian, Willow, Alder and Least Flycatchers, all in the Empidonax species group called “Empids;” or else the Olive-sided Flycatcher, Eastern Phoebe or Eastern Wood-pewee.

Although my Flycatcher was on a branch close to the ground obscured by green leaves in low light, I had no doubt Facebook’s crackerjack birders would solve the riddle.

And so I began to count – 10, 20, 30 seconds – then a whole minute. That’s odd, I thought. Was everybody on vacation?

After about five very slow minutes, I saw the Facebook signal that someone started typing. And it turns out that identifying Flycatchers is so difficult that the ensuing deliberation sounded like a bunch of scientists judging a dog show.

“My gut says Eastern Wood-Pewee,” the first person wrote. “Any Empidonax would have a cleaner chest, but this bird has a smudgy gray “vest.” Definitely not a Phoebe — a Phoebe would have a black face contrasting the paler grey back, also a brighter white lower belly.”

Hooray, I thought. Mystery solved. And then someone else started typing:

“The relatively short primaries suggest otherwise. A Pewee would have very long primaries. Also a Pewee would have a much less pronounced eye ring. Empids can have a smudgy vest. This is an Acadian Flycatcher.”

The back and forth went on for a couple of days, and even some of the best birders in Washington, D.C., got involved.

EasternPeeweeEasternPeewee

Here are three views of the bird that turned out to be an Acadian Flycatcher.

EasternPeewee-2EasternPeewee-2

The front view doesn't give you much information.

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The light colored beak, brown head coloring and whitish breast were all clues.

 

With the next comment, we generally settled on the Acadian:

“I will add my vote for Acadian Flycatcher,” wrote one of the most respected and thorough contributors. “The yellow underside of the bill, the moderately long primary extensions and the location all point to Acadian Flycatcher. Right now in southern Maryland, Acadians and their little two-note calls are everywhere!”

For me, one of the most compelling parts of birding is the detective work that goes into figuring out what we’ve seen. These days, we’re armed with dozens of books, apps, websites and laminated pamphlets to help with identifications.

Acadian Flycatcher view of pronounced wing bars.

In my early days of birding, anything beyond the most common species presented a challenge. Anders took photos of almost every bird, and we’d collect the mystery birds at the end of the day. Then we, too, would eagerly compare tail feathers, eye rings and beaks – just like the experts — to try and figure out the IDs. Oftentimes it’s a lot harder than you’d think.

My Flycatcher adventure was a reminder that the complexity of the avian world is enormous. There’s always more to learn. It turns out that the best way to figure out which Flycatcher you’re looking at is to catch their song. Without it, you may never be sure. If I’d known that the two-note call of the Acadian Flycatcher sounds like pizza (piz-ZAH), I wouldn’t have needed Facebook.

A bird’s “vocalizations” are definitive — way more reliable than its smudgy vest or belly color. (However, the process of learning hundreds of combinations of peeps, buzzes, squawks and trills is daunting. A story for another day.)

So what did I learn from my first Acadian Flycatcher? Sometimes, even the best birders get stumped.

One friend had some advice when it came to Flycatchers. “If it doesn’t vocalize, then just move along,’’ he said. “Pretend you didn’t see it.’’

Be sure to try out “What’s this Bird? when you’re stumped. It’s usually fast and easy. Meanwhile, here’s a gallery of various Flycatchers. Scroll over the phots for IDs.

DSC_0261DSC_0261

Great Crested Flycatcher

DSC_4522DSC_4522

Eastern Wood-Pewee

DSC_0350DSC_0350

Vermillion Flycatcher

DSC_6150DSC_6150

Eastern Kingbird, in the Flycatcher family

DSC_2177DSC_2177

Acadian Flycatcher, star of our post

 

 

 

 

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The day I learned birding etiquette: Or how to mind your manners on the trail

by Beverly Mills Gyllenhaal
written by Beverly Mills Gyllenhaal

In our early days on the trail, it took a while to realize that birding has its own, largely un-communicated set of dos and don’ts.

I’ll never forget the morning we pulled into a nature preserve parking lot alongside a group of folks wearing khaki vests and putting away cannon-sized cameras wrapped in camouflage coating.

We were excited to find characters who looked so much the part. These had to be “real” birders, and we had a lot of questions. We got out of the car, grinning and waving. They practically jumped into theirs as if we were planning to attack.

In the early days, some birders ran when they saw me coming with my pink hat and pulled up socks.

Could it have been my trusty pink cap? The white tube socks pulled over my cuffs to avoid getting bitten by a tick? In the birding world, we were as obvious a cliché wearing our beginner garb as they were in identical bird-nerd outfits.

It turns out there are good reasons for the birding nerdyness.

“Birds are very sensitive to colors and often view them as a threat,” said Dale Rosselet, the vice president for education at New Jersey Audubon. “So you don’t want people moving through the forest with hot pink on. Wear muted colors, and try to blend in with the surroundings. If you’re walking through a forest, white stands out like a sore thumb.”

Oops.

Wardrobe fundamentals was just one lesson I learned from Rosselet during a walk with 20 other birders of varying skill levels at the Cape May Birding Festival last month. At one point she trained her telescope on a distant gull and turned to face the group.

“Here’s how we’re going to do this,” Rosselet said. “Each person takes a quick look through the scope, and after everyone has a chance, you can come back and look again.”

Taking turns may be kindergarten basics, but after leading hundreds of field trips and tours, Rosselet has seen many a person forget their manners in the presence of a beautiful bird.

“People get excited. They’re going to rush in, they’re going to squeal – we’ve all done it,” she said. “The main thing is to try and remember you’re in a group, and everyone is trying to see.”

In a recent interview, I asked Rosselet for more advice on how to bird well with others. For starters, go on an organized walk with a trained leader.

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How he stole my heart: Cocky, reckless and drunk with love

by Beverly Mills Gyllenhaal
written by Beverly Mills Gyllenhaal

Love can be dangerous. We know it. And yet, there are times when this most elemental of emotions pushes you beyond all reason.

Why else would an otherwise elusive, tiny yellow bird end up walking down the middle of the road in broad daylight? It was a gorgeous spring day, and this Yellow-throated Warbler was drunk in love.

Typically Yellow-throated Warblers are so difficult to find that they’ve hardly been studied. They spend most of their lives hidden, conducting all of their daily activities behind the leaves of trees some 200 feet tall.

And yet…there he was, hopping down the road in mid-May at the Pokomoke River State Park on Maryland’s Eastern Shore.

Anders and I had just finished a long birding hike through the forest, heading back to build a fire and call it a day. Out of the corner of my eye there was a suddenly a splash of lemony yellow where it wasn’t supposed to be.

A jolt of something akin to electricity shot down the backs of my legs as I realized what was happening. I dug my fingernails into my husband’s arm and pointed, resisting the urge to jump up and down.

Then all I could do was stand by and watch, holding my breath to see if Anders could move fast enough to get the photo.

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Birding and the Airstream

We used to snicker at Snowbirds — until we discovered this Airstream getaway

by Beverly Mills Gyllenhaal
written by Beverly Mills Gyllenhaal

There’s one avian species I never thought we’d be observing at such close range: Snowbirds.

That’s what Florida locals call retirees from “up north” who migrate to the Sunshine State every winter. Three decades ago — when Anders and I were newlyweds living in Miami Beach – we’d snicker at old fogies who drove so slow and yet rushed out to dinner at 5 o’clock for the “early-bird” menu.

Now we’re part of that flock.

Normally our extended birding adventures involve a leapfrogging route over thousands of miles, camping in state or national parks surrounded by lush hiking trails. As wonderful as this nomadic life can be, the downside is a complicated checklist of moving chores.

Every other day or so, I’m inside the Airstream furiously cleaning, packing the breakables and securing anything else that could become a projectile once we move. Anders tackles the outside – pulling up stakes (literally), hitching the trailer, hoisting bikes and emptying water tanks.

And then we drive, hours and hours, only to do everything in reverse at the next location.

Beverly strolls down the main street of Land Yacht Harbor

This trip we wanted to try staying put, so we spent the last six weeks of winter as snowbirds in an RV park in Melbourne, Florida, called Land Yacht Harbor. We chose the park due to its proximity to a host of preserves, national parks and other birding hotspots that allowed us to make all kinds of day trips around South and Central Florida.

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Sandhill Crane Stories: Bold city birds vs. their shy cousins

by Beverly Mills Gyllenhaal
written by Beverly Mills Gyllenhaal

Audubon’s annual Nebraska Crane Festival starts today, where 80 percent of the world’s cranes are converging on one 80-mile stretch of land. More than half a million Sandhill Cranes will touch down in central Nebraska this spring to fatten up before migrating north to their breeding grounds.

Meanwhile, in central Florida, some 5,000 very unusual Sandhill Cranes aren’t going anywhere.

Florida is home to a sub-species of Sandhill Crane that never migrates. While their cousins in other parts of the U.S. are so skittish they’d never stay still for a photo, Florida’s cranes are urban birds unafraid of people.

There may be tens of thousands of Sandhill Cranes near Kearney, Nebraska, for the festival this week, but to see one up close you’d have to hide behind a bird blind. If you’re in Florida, like Anders and I are for a winter birding trip, the crazy cranes are grazing on golf courses, standing in people’s front yards and walking alongside major roadways without showing a care in the world.

Because Florida’s suitable crane habitat has been shrinking for years, these native birds have grown accustomed to sharing space with humans. (Sandhill Cranes can live up to 35 years and mate for life.) State law forbids feeding cranes, but it’s not unusual for them to walk right up to your car hoping for a handout.

You’re not likely to forget a close encounter with a Sandhill Crane. Statuesque at 4 feet tall, with leathery crimson skin on their faces and gray-and-brown feathers that fan out at the hips like a skirt, these birds are astonishing. Cranes are among the world’s oldest living birds and one of the planet’s most successful life forms, having outlasted millions of species. The Sandhill Cranes of North America have not changed appreciably in ten million years.

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