Regular readers of BFH, if they exist, may have noticed I took the holidays off from blogging. You see, producing blog posts of the caliber expected by my fans (parents) requires a solemn communion with my laptop, as undesirable as it is infeasible during family gatherings. But whatever distractions may present themselves, I never, ever, ever take a vacation from birding – like, not for a second. With a hat-tip to the grammar-bending new movie Not Fade Away, I present an illustration of what it means to be never not birding.
A few weeks ago, the bird-blogging gurus at 10,000 Birds called on readers to submit their “Bird of the Year” – basically, the coolest bird sighting you had in 2012. I failed to get a response in by the deadline, but I did not fail to ruminate extensively. I had never chosen a Bird of the Year before, but the idea appealed to me, as it prompted a happy stroll down Birding Memory Lane.
While there were lots of nice moments, there was no one sighting that really stood out. The rarest bird I had seen was probably the White Wagtail in L.A., but how excited can you get about a bird that someone else found and told you exactly how to find for yourself? Hundreds of people saw that bird. Meh. I thought about choosing Allen’s Hummingbird, not so much for a single sighting as for its overall contribution to my year in birding. One morning in March, I woke up, sat up in bed, and saw one out the window – my first Allen’s Hummingbird ever. (Note well: Groggy and indecent, but not not birding.) Cut to the end of the year, when they’re buzzing around my new home all the time and even eating at my feeder. Nice bird, that Allen’s Hummingbird. Still, it didn’t seem to fit the bill.
So I missed the Christmas Eve deadline for submitting to 10,000 Birds, and having made myself fat and merry over many a holiday dinner, I was more or less content to give up on picking a Bird of the Year. On Christmas Day, the roads were quiet and dusted with snow as I set out with my bride, heading from one family gathering in Vermont to another in Connecticut. As we stood in the cramped office of Thrifty Car Rental, answering the four hundred questions they ask before they will let you pay them to borrow a well-worn Chevy Aveo, I was only mildly irritated – so lulled was I by the Holiday Spirit.
But like that of a caged lion, my outward calm belied the instincts of a born hunter. Somewhere between declining something and declining something else, I became aware of the presence of birds just outside the office window. Medium-sized, almost silhouetted in the late-afternoon light… I figured they were Blue Jays maybe, something mundane. Then it dawned on me, and my jaw dropped: Holy crap. Pine Grosbeaks.
A few weeks ago, the bird-blogging gurus at 10,000 Birds called on readers to submit their “Bird of the Year” – basically, the coolest bird sighting you had in 2012. I failed to get a response in by the deadline, but I did not fail to ruminate extensively. I had never chosen a Bird of the Year before, but the idea appealed to me, as it prompted a happy stroll down Birding Memory Lane.
While there were lots of nice moments, there was no one sighting that really stood out. The rarest bird I had seen was probably the White Wagtail in L.A., but how excited can you get about a bird that someone else found and told you exactly how to find for yourself? Hundreds of people saw that bird. Meh. I thought about choosing Allen’s Hummingbird, not so much for a single sighting as for its overall contribution to my year in birding. One morning in March, I woke up, sat up in bed, and saw one out the window – my first Allen’s Hummingbird ever. (Note well: Groggy and indecent, but not not birding.) Cut to the end of the year, when they’re buzzing around my new home all the time and even eating at my feeder. Nice bird, that Allen’s Hummingbird. Still, it didn’t seem to fit the bill.
So I missed the Christmas Eve deadline for submitting to 10,000 Birds, and having made myself fat and merry over many a holiday dinner, I was more or less content to give up on picking a Bird of the Year. On Christmas Day, the roads were quiet and dusted with snow as I set out with my bride, heading from one family gathering in Vermont to another in Connecticut. As we stood in the cramped office of Thrifty Car Rental, answering the four hundred questions they ask before they will let you pay them to borrow a well-worn Chevy Aveo, I was only mildly irritated – so lulled was I by the Holiday Spirit.
But like that of a caged lion, my outward calm belied the instincts of a born hunter. Somewhere between declining something and declining something else, I became aware of the presence of birds just outside the office window. Medium-sized, almost silhouetted in the late-afternoon light… I figured they were Blue Jays maybe, something mundane. Then it dawned on me, and my jaw dropped: Holy crap. Pine Grosbeaks.
Like, whoa.
These are birds of the remote wild north, birds I had only ever seen once, years before, and was not expecting to see here. I said out loud, “Holy crap,” and walked straight out the door, right in the middle of dealing with the car. When I glanced back in through the window, I saw one very concerned wife and one totally nonplussed Rental Sales Agent staring back at me. I tried to reassure them by laughing – Ha ha, I know this is crazy, I’ll explain later – but the looks on their faces didn’t change. Too bad, but I wasn’t stopping. This was the kind of moment that doesn’t come along very often. Genuine shock. Like when the roller coaster dips and your stomach tingles. Your blood surges. Without thinking, you drop what you’re doing, because your conscious mind is not in control anymore – you’re in the thrall of the bird.
Charmer.
The birds were cooperative, hanging out close enough for me to get a few pics. I took a break to run inside and explain to my wife, who was understanding enough to let me run right back out and keep watching, God bless her. I texted my dad, the only contact in my phone who would be jealous. And I watched them gorge themselves on berries, those four fat Pine Grosbeaks – my Birds of the Year.
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