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.
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.
The American Goldfinch is a symbol of summer. Impossibly yellow in May, June and July, they stand out like flashes of sunlight flitting across meadows, farmlands and treetops.
A few summers ago, on a birding trip through the South, we stopped to camp near Tupelo, Mississippi, next to a drained lake that had been overtaken by grasslands.
Two Cedar Waxwings materialized above the wildlife park in Northern Virginia and pirouetted into an aerial ballet. They rose and fell, circled high above the lake, then swooped down close to the ground. They pulled all this off in precise formation like two tiny jets on military maneuvers.
They are full of energy, captivating and fascinating, says Robert Rice, a veteran scientist with the Smithsonian Migratory Bird Center, who wrote the center’s summary on Cedar Waxwings.
This could be the start of a great joke, but it’s just too infuriating. So many times it sounds like you’ve hit the birding jackpot only to be fooled by one wily, nondescript, gray-and-white bird.
Florida is home to a sub-species of Sandhill Crane that never migrates.
With shimmering purple and turquoise feathers, a distinctive red-and-yellow beak, a white patch on its face and bright yellow legs, this “Purple Gal” knows how to entertain a crowd. She struts slowly through the wetlands, giving you plenty of time to stand and admire.
We didn’t get a glimpse of that Purple Gallinule, but when we left Washington last month for a birding trip to Florida, the Gallinule was high on the list of species we hoped to track down. We got lucky, and so we decided to make it our Flying Lessons Bird of the Week.
We’ve found Purple Gallinules several times between South and Central Florida, glimmering like Disney princesses when the sun hits their feathers. This is one colorful female whose feathers are exactly as fancy as those of its male counterpart.
Of the 55 species in North America, the Yellow-rumped is probably the most abundant Warbler. It shows up all over the country at some point during the year and winters much farther north than most other Warblers do.
It’s easy to see the male’s deep red coloring on the cover of a Valentine’s Day card. But this goes further than feathers. Like true love, the 
I spent the rest of the afternoon looking for this seductive bird, which by then I figured out was a tanager. Shortly before the sun went down, he returned: As red as a ripe tomato, offering his striking profile for just long enough to catch a few photos. Not far away was the female tanager, identical in form but dressed all in yellow.
