I’m always amazed by what lengths extreme birders will go to spot a rare or unusual bird; how much effort, time, gas, and money they expend, and how many responsibilities they’ll drop faster than a hot potato.
The funniest part is what IMPROBABLE ODDS they’re willing to scale to spot a single rare bird, particularly an out-of-range visitor that appears in an odd place or at an unexpected time.
But let’s back up a second: isn’t it remarkable that a SINGLE RARE BIRD is ever spotted in the first place by knowing eyes? Are there really that many of us?
Why, yes. There’s at least 46 million bird watchers according to a US Fish and Wildlife Service study. That is 1 in 5 Americans!
Of course, most of us couldn’t identify an out-of-range bird if it poked us in the eye, which makes it even more remarkable that rare birds are found with such frequency. (Trying not to think about the ones that lurk undetected…)
But once a SINGLE BIRD WATCHER spots a SINGLE RARE BIRD, the secret birding channels light on fire as word spreads from cell phone to Inbox to iPhone to rare bird hotline.
Scores of birders amass on the bird’s location. When they know a rare bird “should be out there,” a crazed turgor sets in, arms raised, bins glued to hopeful eyes.
A birder can stay in that locked, pitiful position for hours, even days. They become super human, able to endure arm cramps, eye strain, warbler neck, grumbling stomachs, full bladders or worse, because, they will tell you, the agony of missing a rarity outweighs all other forms of pain and discomfort.
Yes, birders do crazy things. Like travel across country to spot the first North American occurrence of a Mexican species–and hope it’s still there when they arrive. Or climb an active volcanoes to find a rare, high-altitude specialty. Or sail miles out to sea and hope a pelagic waterbird chooses to fly over their lat-long coordinates at some point during the voyage.
And sometimes, birders stand for hours in front of THOUSANDS of birds, hoping to catch site of ONE rare jewel to augment their growing strand of life birds.
Take last Monday.
As I was about to surrender to Sunday night’s slumber, I conducted a final e-mail check. The invitation was simple enough:
“Tomorrow, I am driving up to Niagara Falls for a very short birding chase. There was an adult Black-headed Gull at Lewiston this afternoon. The weather is not supposed to be nice, but the rarity is worth a quick check of the river. Let me know…”
Ha! I thought as my head hit the pillow. Chasing a GULL two hours away to Niagara Falls on a Work Day when it’s supposed to be cold, windy, and rainy ALL DAY is NOT gonna happen. I got my priorities straight!
I’m not sure what happened overnight because the next morning I found myself typing:
COUNT ME IN!
I think it was visions of me sitting in a dark, empty, confetti-strewn room on December 31, 2009, reviewing my New York Birding Year List, teardrops filling empty checkboxes where little “x’s” could have been, the knife twisting with each bird I chose not to chase this year…
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