Last spring I described the project, "Lights Out Baltimore". We are a volunteer group that surveys and monitors migrating birds who have come through downtown Baltimore. We are looking for fatalities (from flying into windows of buildings both tall and one story)as well as injured birds and compromised birds. We collect the dead ones and get them to a local natural history museum for research purposes and we get the injured ones to animal recovery locations. Of course we do what we can to aid birds compromised by situations like being under awnings.
There are not many "facts" about migration habits as the birds fly largely at night and tend to fly quite high. However as the technology improves, more evidence can be collected all the time. Currently academic research has collected strong reasons to believe that in addition to earth's magnetism, migration requires nature's information provided by the night skies. Tall buildings that leave their lights on during the night are under suspicion for confusing birds in flight that may recognize the glow from a window as an astral signal.
Turning Lights Out is by far the fix for this issue. Window and glass manufacturers can provide consumers with a transparent, aesthetically appealing choice that doesn’t require expensive solutions and can be visually neutral. While there are UV films that may completely solve the problem, window film manufacturers to date have not invested in testing products to make sure they deter bird strikes and also have acceptable wear for outdoor applications. Until this happens, glass will continue to be the second biggest human-caused killer of birds. Habitat loss kills between 100 million and 1 billion birds annually in North America.
The volunteer effort of "Lights Out Baltimore" is designed to gather data about where these window hits occur and to inform both downtown businesses as well as the public of essentially two things. One is the larger ecological necessity of saving electricity and the other is the consideration of using "fritted" glass for windows which appears to be effective in preventing bird strikes.
One of our volunteers (and one of my monitoring partners) had his letter to the Baltimore Sun published this morning and here it is.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Monday, October 5, 2009
Birding history
A Concise History of Ornithology by Michael Walters. New Haven, Yale University Press. 2003 255pp. ISBN-0-300-11113-4
There are several very good things about this book. It is a chronicle of the history that its title suggests; it has 30 appendices that are essentially the taxonomic variations of many of the worlds famous ornithologists; it has an eleven page bibliography. In short it can be removed from the shelf often in order to reinforce a notion held or to remind oneself as to how an avian systematic came to be. It also contained a large number of photographs and avian artwork.
On the other hand the stories of the ornithologists are terse and formulaic. While reading it I sometimes thought I had already read that page. This was because so many of the men he profiles (like it or not, ornithology has historically been a man’s game) seem to have the same qualities. They are petty, arrogant and have considerable enemies. This runs counter to my own experiences with birders (even scholarly ones).
Structurally it is a very heavy book using thick glossy paper and it has a physical density that could make it a weapon if one chose. It also was printed in a small font and made use of nearly every inch of the page so it was somewhat hard on the eyes. At the end of the book Walters veers from his biographical intentions and begins to discuss some of the science of taxonomy. It was an unexpected sharp turn that made me wonder what its connection to the tale was.
I am glad to have a copy on my shelf as it is excellent as a resource but less so as a read.
There are several very good things about this book. It is a chronicle of the history that its title suggests; it has 30 appendices that are essentially the taxonomic variations of many of the worlds famous ornithologists; it has an eleven page bibliography. In short it can be removed from the shelf often in order to reinforce a notion held or to remind oneself as to how an avian systematic came to be. It also contained a large number of photographs and avian artwork.
On the other hand the stories of the ornithologists are terse and formulaic. While reading it I sometimes thought I had already read that page. This was because so many of the men he profiles (like it or not, ornithology has historically been a man’s game) seem to have the same qualities. They are petty, arrogant and have considerable enemies. This runs counter to my own experiences with birders (even scholarly ones).
Structurally it is a very heavy book using thick glossy paper and it has a physical density that could make it a weapon if one chose. It also was printed in a small font and made use of nearly every inch of the page so it was somewhat hard on the eyes. At the end of the book Walters veers from his biographical intentions and begins to discuss some of the science of taxonomy. It was an unexpected sharp turn that made me wonder what its connection to the tale was.
I am glad to have a copy on my shelf as it is excellent as a resource but less so as a read.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Bird rescue, spring of 2009
A few months ago I mentioned the project “Lights Out Baltimore.” I’ll skip the details but basically a group of us did data collection on compromised migratory birds in downtown Baltimore. We spotted seven or eight buildings and located birds that were harmed by crashing into those buildings while in migration.
The birds that were found ranged from dead to confused. The deceased were bagged and sent to the Smithsonian. The injured sent to a wild avian rehab center (run by a talented bird nurse so that many could return to their natural abodes). The addled birds-those caught under canopies or under ceilings were often assisted by us data collectors.
So there we were in pre-dawn early to late spring mornings tramping through downtown Baltimore in search of these birds that needed our help; those beyond our help still gave us data for further study.
I got involved because for the last several years I have walked about a mile early each workday to get from the light rail to my office. During those walks I have often noticed birds that were usually dead but way out of place in the core of a large American city. Last fall I discovered a truly beautiful but certainly dead bird out side of my office. I photographed it and scratched my head trying to determine its species. Ultimately I found that it was a juvenile Red Headed Woodpecker. I asked for identification (verification) and was directed to Lights Out Baltimore.
So I went to a meeting and found that my fellow birders had a science project (a few of them as it turns out) in mind and needed data collectors. This role suits me pretty well. I enjoy being part of a study and am diligent in my own data collection. So were my partners. Not only was our task to identify birds by species and condition but to do what was possible to alleviate their plight. The easiest task was to shoo them out from under an awning and the toughest was to bag up a seriously injured bird with the hopes that it could be fully rehabbed.
So I now present an example of a success. The Acadian Flycatcher found at Baltimore’s Civic Center was badly dazed two of us rescued him and my partner rushed the bird to the avian rehab described above and a few days later it looked like this.
The birds that were found ranged from dead to confused. The deceased were bagged and sent to the Smithsonian. The injured sent to a wild avian rehab center (run by a talented bird nurse so that many could return to their natural abodes). The addled birds-those caught under canopies or under ceilings were often assisted by us data collectors.
So there we were in pre-dawn early to late spring mornings tramping through downtown Baltimore in search of these birds that needed our help; those beyond our help still gave us data for further study.
I got involved because for the last several years I have walked about a mile early each workday to get from the light rail to my office. During those walks I have often noticed birds that were usually dead but way out of place in the core of a large American city. Last fall I discovered a truly beautiful but certainly dead bird out side of my office. I photographed it and scratched my head trying to determine its species. Ultimately I found that it was a juvenile Red Headed Woodpecker. I asked for identification (verification) and was directed to Lights Out Baltimore.
So I went to a meeting and found that my fellow birders had a science project (a few of them as it turns out) in mind and needed data collectors. This role suits me pretty well. I enjoy being part of a study and am diligent in my own data collection. So were my partners. Not only was our task to identify birds by species and condition but to do what was possible to alleviate their plight. The easiest task was to shoo them out from under an awning and the toughest was to bag up a seriously injured bird with the hopes that it could be fully rehabbed.
So I now present an example of a success. The Acadian Flycatcher found at Baltimore’s Civic Center was badly dazed two of us rescued him and my partner rushed the bird to the avian rehab described above and a few days later it looked like this.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Tales of the Ivory-Billed Woodpecker
In Search of the Ivory-Billed Woodpecker by Jerome A. Jackson., New York, First Smithsonian Books/ Collins Paperback 2006 322pp. ISBN-978-0-06-0891558
Initially this book had me feeling very leery about the premise of finding this iconic birding figure. The first post extinction “sightings” of it occurred very approximate to my own new hobby of birding. It was an exciting event for me as I imagined that hard science was being used to dispel the notion of species extinction. I was too much of a tyro to know the history of the bird. I began to read about it and found out what a magnificent bird it was. Having seen the (only) slightly less impressive Pileated Woodpecker, the Ivory Billed had more to offer physically. Before long though, the skeptic in me stepped in.
The bird also had more to offer in its folklore. Unofficially recognized as endangered over 100 years ago, ecologists attempted to place barriers on its capture and the usurping of its habitat. Essentially they failed. Opportunists shot as many as they could in order to stuff them and sell them as specimens to researchers and museums. Lumber barons stripped habitat for the lucre that was their wood. Natives attempted to extract its mysticism for their own through the use of its skins and feathers.
Jackson provides us with a detailed history of reports of Ivory-Billed. He is as enamored with the descriptions of Alexander Wilson and John Audubon as he is with the local tales of its abundance. He is analytical in his interpretation. Jackson is an ornithologist by trade and therefore applies the scientific method to reports and data. He examines his data with a critical eye. Jackson is a human too and it is clear from his writing that he would very much like to get a valid report that an Ivory-Bill was sighted. He is aware enough to know that Ivory “sightings” require genuine scrutiny and affirmation. Without it we are left with mysticism in place of science. Science has been telling us that the Ivory-Billed is almost certainly gone.
Having been a birder for only the last 4 years I still am seeing “Life” birds that peers saw 30 years ago. I get the thrills at my age so there is no loss there. I do catch myself seeing birds that I want to see and having the resulting emotional rush. I also have the scientific discipline to temper my sightings with reality. It seems that since the knowledge of a dearth of Ivory-Billed Woodpeckers has been understood for 100 years, its demise ought not to be shocking. It is sad perhaps, but not news.
Initially this book had me feeling very leery about the premise of finding this iconic birding figure. The first post extinction “sightings” of it occurred very approximate to my own new hobby of birding. It was an exciting event for me as I imagined that hard science was being used to dispel the notion of species extinction. I was too much of a tyro to know the history of the bird. I began to read about it and found out what a magnificent bird it was. Having seen the (only) slightly less impressive Pileated Woodpecker, the Ivory Billed had more to offer physically. Before long though, the skeptic in me stepped in.
The bird also had more to offer in its folklore. Unofficially recognized as endangered over 100 years ago, ecologists attempted to place barriers on its capture and the usurping of its habitat. Essentially they failed. Opportunists shot as many as they could in order to stuff them and sell them as specimens to researchers and museums. Lumber barons stripped habitat for the lucre that was their wood. Natives attempted to extract its mysticism for their own through the use of its skins and feathers.
Jackson provides us with a detailed history of reports of Ivory-Billed. He is as enamored with the descriptions of Alexander Wilson and John Audubon as he is with the local tales of its abundance. He is analytical in his interpretation. Jackson is an ornithologist by trade and therefore applies the scientific method to reports and data. He examines his data with a critical eye. Jackson is a human too and it is clear from his writing that he would very much like to get a valid report that an Ivory-Bill was sighted. He is aware enough to know that Ivory “sightings” require genuine scrutiny and affirmation. Without it we are left with mysticism in place of science. Science has been telling us that the Ivory-Billed is almost certainly gone.
Having been a birder for only the last 4 years I still am seeing “Life” birds that peers saw 30 years ago. I get the thrills at my age so there is no loss there. I do catch myself seeing birds that I want to see and having the resulting emotional rush. I also have the scientific discipline to temper my sightings with reality. It seems that since the knowledge of a dearth of Ivory-Billed Woodpeckers has been understood for 100 years, its demise ought not to be shocking. It is sad perhaps, but not news.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Sparrows can be heard but not seen
In the warmer than normal early morning of March 8, I decided to take a walk through the Kinder Farm Park. It was time to catch some nature in general and birds specifically. It was then that I discovered for the first time that sparrows are invisible on an early Maryland March morning.
Daylight was only a half an hour old when I began my walk. I did not have the benefit of sun to brighten colors; colors that are pretty deign to show at this time of year. It is a mini-season of drab greens and yellows. Mud brown is always in my line of vision. Darker browns are there when water is present. Near a stream or pond there is sand and its normal ecru tones. There are grays that vary depending on whether the rock is wet or dry. There is a little amber here and there. Beyond that there is little else to delight the eye.
It is just that time of year. The bugs are mainly dormant still, the broken limbs and twigs yet to be cleared. The viny, tumbleweed like growth has filtered leaves and other debris of nature that have arrived from winter winds. Despite the hopefulness of spring that I might be having, it is too early to reap the natural beauty of spring vegetation. It is too early for the large number of birds that populate this park in the warm months.
The birds are on their way. The roots and bulbs are regenerating. There is beauty of course. It just has to be felt rather than seen. It is beautiful to understand that life is doing what it is genetically told to do. Life is doing its best despite the efforts we have to conquer and impede it. There is beauty in that knowledge but not its visage.
Sparrows are common. They are everywhere. All species are not everywhere or always but most anywhere you are there are many types of sparrows nearby. They don’t look remarkably different from each other. Birders learn the distinctions early because their sources are abundant. We have House Sparrows everywhere and always. In my yard I also entertain a large number of Song Sparrows. In the winter there are Fox Sparrows in the park and in the summer Yellow Throats are abundant. We have Chipping Sparrows routinely as well. I could go on but details burden the story.
How did I discover that sparrows were invisible? Well it started the moment I got out of my car. The park was a symphony (or a cacophony depending on one’s view) of twitters, twills and tweets. One view was backlit by the cloud muted gray skies. Scanning the horizon and the trees for the source of these songs was useless. At best one could see a silhouette of an indefinable bird. From another vantage one might see fluttering in the twigs or hopping along a path. To the naked eye these may appear to be toads hopping or leaves blowing. With the aid of binoculars one can see that they are birds and one can surmise that they are sparrows. At least they act like sparrows.
It is early morning. The birds are looking for food and probably items to begin nesting with (I might be premature on the latter). They have business to attend to. They are busy. They hop and flit. In the brush they only alit for a second or two. On the ground the hopping is continual with seconds or less in any one place. They are there in legion. I hear them; I see them (sort of).
Sparrows have a mix of mud brown, darker brown and ecru tones. They may have a hint of drab greens and yellows; they have some grays that vary depending on the lighting and species. In short they are the color of an early Maryland March morning.
Were I a CIA operative and my task to follow a particular sparrow, I would have failed my mission.
Daylight was only a half an hour old when I began my walk. I did not have the benefit of sun to brighten colors; colors that are pretty deign to show at this time of year. It is a mini-season of drab greens and yellows. Mud brown is always in my line of vision. Darker browns are there when water is present. Near a stream or pond there is sand and its normal ecru tones. There are grays that vary depending on whether the rock is wet or dry. There is a little amber here and there. Beyond that there is little else to delight the eye.
It is just that time of year. The bugs are mainly dormant still, the broken limbs and twigs yet to be cleared. The viny, tumbleweed like growth has filtered leaves and other debris of nature that have arrived from winter winds. Despite the hopefulness of spring that I might be having, it is too early to reap the natural beauty of spring vegetation. It is too early for the large number of birds that populate this park in the warm months.
The birds are on their way. The roots and bulbs are regenerating. There is beauty of course. It just has to be felt rather than seen. It is beautiful to understand that life is doing what it is genetically told to do. Life is doing its best despite the efforts we have to conquer and impede it. There is beauty in that knowledge but not its visage.
Sparrows are common. They are everywhere. All species are not everywhere or always but most anywhere you are there are many types of sparrows nearby. They don’t look remarkably different from each other. Birders learn the distinctions early because their sources are abundant. We have House Sparrows everywhere and always. In my yard I also entertain a large number of Song Sparrows. In the winter there are Fox Sparrows in the park and in the summer Yellow Throats are abundant. We have Chipping Sparrows routinely as well. I could go on but details burden the story.
How did I discover that sparrows were invisible? Well it started the moment I got out of my car. The park was a symphony (or a cacophony depending on one’s view) of twitters, twills and tweets. One view was backlit by the cloud muted gray skies. Scanning the horizon and the trees for the source of these songs was useless. At best one could see a silhouette of an indefinable bird. From another vantage one might see fluttering in the twigs or hopping along a path. To the naked eye these may appear to be toads hopping or leaves blowing. With the aid of binoculars one can see that they are birds and one can surmise that they are sparrows. At least they act like sparrows.
It is early morning. The birds are looking for food and probably items to begin nesting with (I might be premature on the latter). They have business to attend to. They are busy. They hop and flit. In the brush they only alit for a second or two. On the ground the hopping is continual with seconds or less in any one place. They are there in legion. I hear them; I see them (sort of).
Sparrows have a mix of mud brown, darker brown and ecru tones. They may have a hint of drab greens and yellows; they have some grays that vary depending on the lighting and species. In short they are the color of an early Maryland March morning.
Were I a CIA operative and my task to follow a particular sparrow, I would have failed my mission.
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Early winter in my yard
Winter descends neither rapidly or gently, it just descends. Tomorrow may seem a brutal 30 degrees after yesterday’s 50. It is the onset of the coldest season and we just have to get used to it.
The leaves are nearly all gone save those that have clustered under my robust Yews and dying pine shrubs. What I cannot retrieve and use for later garden mulch will simply become local mulch. It what remains of this year’s Trumpet Vine is a tubular bird feeder that now only attracts House Sparrows and Cardinals; these year long birds get points for being avian but not for being interesting.
In the much more wooded back, next year’s raised garden lies in stacks of measured, sawn and unconstructed wood; mounds of trimmed ivy and brush await trimming into kindling size pieces. The chiminea needs them for fire starters. I see the same birds as in the front but additionally Mockingbirds, Mourning Doves perch on the wires and the squawks of Blue Jays can be heard. Far too rarely a Downy or Hairy Woodpecker enjoys the suet. I see almost no Chickadees or Nuthatches like I did last year-my first winter at this house. I am due for a new load of bird feed and plan to buy such that will attract those species.
My cat has a bell attached to its collar. The design of course is to alert my yard birds. Not all free range felines in the neighborhood are so encumbered. Not all of the yards in my neighborhood have the bird luring copse that I do. The local cats prefer what my yard offers to what theirs does; the intrigue of the chase and the success of the catch.
The Song Sparrow also is a year long visitor to my yard. It may work from an evolutionary disadvantage to the other birds. It is a ground feeder. It does not even attempt to gather its meal at the elevated feeder. It feeds on the droppings from above.
Silent skulking, stalking felines make their plans furtively in the camouflaged underbrush nearby. Winter time supplication is a Song Sparrow’s primary intent and it comes with the cost of not being alert. I watched just now as one of the local cats planned its kill all too well.
Tomorrow’s purchase of a different feed may solve this dilemma. Perhaps the new seeds will lure the Song Sparrow to the much safer feeder or perhaps they are just not designed to get their food that way. Perhaps they are destined to have a shorter life span than their hearty, street savvy and aggressive House Sparrow cousins- the “Tree Gang” with its turf in my back yard.
The leaves are nearly all gone save those that have clustered under my robust Yews and dying pine shrubs. What I cannot retrieve and use for later garden mulch will simply become local mulch. It what remains of this year’s Trumpet Vine is a tubular bird feeder that now only attracts House Sparrows and Cardinals; these year long birds get points for being avian but not for being interesting.
In the much more wooded back, next year’s raised garden lies in stacks of measured, sawn and unconstructed wood; mounds of trimmed ivy and brush await trimming into kindling size pieces. The chiminea needs them for fire starters. I see the same birds as in the front but additionally Mockingbirds, Mourning Doves perch on the wires and the squawks of Blue Jays can be heard. Far too rarely a Downy or Hairy Woodpecker enjoys the suet. I see almost no Chickadees or Nuthatches like I did last year-my first winter at this house. I am due for a new load of bird feed and plan to buy such that will attract those species.
My cat has a bell attached to its collar. The design of course is to alert my yard birds. Not all free range felines in the neighborhood are so encumbered. Not all of the yards in my neighborhood have the bird luring copse that I do. The local cats prefer what my yard offers to what theirs does; the intrigue of the chase and the success of the catch.
The Song Sparrow also is a year long visitor to my yard. It may work from an evolutionary disadvantage to the other birds. It is a ground feeder. It does not even attempt to gather its meal at the elevated feeder. It feeds on the droppings from above.
Silent skulking, stalking felines make their plans furtively in the camouflaged underbrush nearby. Winter time supplication is a Song Sparrow’s primary intent and it comes with the cost of not being alert. I watched just now as one of the local cats planned its kill all too well.
Tomorrow’s purchase of a different feed may solve this dilemma. Perhaps the new seeds will lure the Song Sparrow to the much safer feeder or perhaps they are just not designed to get their food that way. Perhaps they are destined to have a shorter life span than their hearty, street savvy and aggressive House Sparrow cousins- the “Tree Gang” with its turf in my back yard.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Safer Buildings for Birds
A few weeks ago I mentioned the way in which I had seen my first Red Headed Woodpecker. One of my birding friends asked me to report it to a birding group called Lights Out Baltimore. They are an advocacy group that is collecting data on migrating birds that have been found dead or injured in downton Baltimomre.
Since I have been taking mental notes of this for several years I had no idea that my own notion was shared by a local group. So now I have my spreadsheet and am filling in the data as I walk those streets for 2-4 miles per day. I haven't been to a meeting yet but the next one is scheduled for early December.
Today I found a Dark Eyed Junco at the foot of one of our skyscrapers.
Anyway, I got curious about this phenomena and did a little internet research and discovered that people are tracking this all over the country. In New York the Audubon Society has printed building guidelines, as has Chicago and so has Toronto.
Since I have been taking mental notes of this for several years I had no idea that my own notion was shared by a local group. So now I have my spreadsheet and am filling in the data as I walk those streets for 2-4 miles per day. I haven't been to a meeting yet but the next one is scheduled for early December.
Today I found a Dark Eyed Junco at the foot of one of our skyscrapers.
Anyway, I got curious about this phenomena and did a little internet research and discovered that people are tracking this all over the country. In New York the Audubon Society has printed building guidelines, as has Chicago and so has Toronto.
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