eBird

Andrew Farnsworth was just 5 years old when he first started birding. As he grew up, this pastime and the science behind it became so captivating he started thinking about how to find a career that would somehow involve birds.

Today, Farnsworth, now 46, is one of the research associates at the Cornell Lab of Ornithology, which just completed its Global Big Day count that drew 26,000 contributors from around the world. (For a deep look Cornell’s innovation and development as the globe’s leading citizen science effort with its eBird project, see our story that ran Tuesday in the Washington Post. )

One of the intriguing backstories about eBird – a technology that’s become central to the routines of hundreds of thousands of birdwatchers – is how much of this work is in the hands of folks for whom birding was part of their upbringing.

“I was fascinated by migration at a very early age,’’ said Farnsworth, who works out of New York City and oversees the lab’s BirdCast and BirdVox projects that track the migration through a series of new tools. “I was very fortunate to be able to turn it into a career at the lab.’’

The stories of many researchers at Cornell, as well as Audubon, birding associations and conservation groups, follow similar paths.

When a Dickcissel turned up in the wrong place at the wrong time last week, Scott Stafford, one of Washington’s top birders, just happened to be in the right place at the right time to find it.

D.C.’s Dickcissel rummaging in the brush.

Less than an hour later, a small swath along the banks of the Potomac was buzzing with birders pointing their cameras into what amounts to an oversized ditch. There among the mix of mud and twigs hopped a small sparrowlike bird carefully concealing its brilliant yellow breast.

“At first I thought it was just another White-throated Sparrow,” Scott said. “But then he popped up, and there was so much yellow. I’m like, Holy Crap!”

What Scott did next made him late for work. It also made him the hero of the moment in Washington’s very active birding community. Nabbing a rare sighting like the out-of-range Dickcissel comes along maybe once in a season – and being the person to claim it is rarer still.

Scott Stafford with a Florida Scrub-Jay.

“I took a photo and immediately posted it out on the D.C. Rare Bird Alert,” Scott said. “Then I stayed on the bird to help direct birders who said they were on their way to find it, so if it flew off, they’d know what direction.”

Flying Lessons clearly states that our website is about “What We’re Learning From the Birds.” But in talking with Scott the other day about his experiences, I realized that what we’re learning from other birders can’t be stressed enough.

While Anders and I are usually plotting our next birding adventure away from the big city, Scott is patiently stalking everything within a few miles of home. He’s seen 226 species in the D.C. area alone – more than my entire Life List from around the country and beyond.

Early birders: Researchers often get hooked as kids

A dedicated birder makes a rare find and the nation’s capital is buzzing