Big Day bird count aims for high list of species during spring migration

Personal Best
Setting a record with help from the birds

he spring migration that begins as a trickle in mid-February reached a particularly notable flood stage one May 11. For me and a companion, it was our best-ever Big Day count at Sherwood Island, a state park on Long Island Sound, off Westport, Conn.

We had done this count for several years, confining ourselves to the 234-acre park and an adjacent tidal pond. The object of a Big Day is to see as many species of birds as possible within a 24-hour period. Sherwood Island has woods, meadows and thickets ringed by salt marshes, beaches and tidal waters. These diverse coastal habitats, all within a compact area, account for the park's bird checklist of more than 280 species. This is the total number of bird species ever recorded in the park. With favorable weather, you can see close to a third of them on a May morning.

On that May 11, as we got out of our cars at 6:30 a.m. on the wooded peninsula where we always began our Big Days, the musical din of bird sounds told us something special was happening at the park. It was fair and warm, with a light southwest wind, the best weather for spring birding by our experience. We began checking off species in quick succession and soon realized this was the day we had been hoping for. With the birds singing all around us, we turned to each other and agreed we were going to hit a hundred.
"Snowy Egret Flushing Prey" by Robert Winkler
Any bird you see on land, in the air or on the water goes down on a Big Day list. We scoured the park's woods for songbirds; slogged through marsh mud to find waders and shorebirds; strained our eyes looking for waterfowl on the Sound and the tidal pond--at high and low tides. By the end of the day, I suffered from "warbler neck," a malady that comes from staring into the treetops for hours.

Our expectations were borne out. There were so many birds in the park on May 11 that, by the time we broke for lunch at nearby Sherwood Diner, we had amassed 101 species. Some years we have trouble breaking 90 species, and getting those last few birds is the tough part. On this day it had been easy.

In places, land birds streamed through the trees or spilled across our path. Water birds rushed over the island in sporadic waves. Most birds, however, came through in spurts. We had to be quick in identifying them, because one brief look was often all we got.

After lunch, we were poised to break our record of 104 species, which we had set two years earlier. When we emerged from the diner, however, the wind began to shift and soon came from the northwest, an unfavorable direction. The park, so alive with birds all morning, by afternoon became a different place.

We went for long periods without seeing even common species, which dulled the edge of my identification skills. What kept us going was a pleasant daydream: only four more birds between us and glory. With seven hours of daylight left, I knew we would make it, but I was getting greedy. No longer content merely to break the record within our grasp, I wanted to shatter it.

At 6:30 p.m., an electrical storm forced us from the east marsh back to our cars and prevented us from looking for the birds that come out at twilight: rails and owls. But by then we had done it. It was as if the thunder and lightning, nature's drum roll and fireworks, heralded our feat. Our new personal record for a Sherwood Island Big Day: 114 species, a 10-bird leap beyond our old mark.

Of this combined total, I had 113 species and my companion had 112. He missed my wood ducks and blue-gray gnatcatcher; I missed his northern waterthrush. I heard seven species that I did not see but could count them because the songs and calls of most birds are as distinctive as their appearances.

"Water-Thrush" by Alexander Wilson (one that got away) Considering how many birds we counted, we were surprised to find only two rarities: a striking breeding-plumaged tricolored heron and an American bittern. The day before, there had been two rare red-necked grebes on the Sound, but on count day they disappeared. We knew there were clapper rails in the park, but they kept hidden, an even bigger disappointment. No Big Day is without a few frustrating misses.

Our 100th species of the day was a flock of glossy ibises, uncommon at Sherwood Island. Number 114 was a prairie warbler that posed on a bush for a second, one of 16 warbler species. It took me until 4:30 p.m. to find a lone rock dove, also known as the domestic pigeon.

Our only raptor was a red-tailed hawk. There were 70 passerine, or perching, birds and 44 nonpasserines, which are mostly water birds. We birded the last two hours of the day without adding any species.

We saw almost 1,500 individual birds. The most numerous species were Canada goose (300), double-crested cormorant (200), herring gull (60), European starling (50), red-winged blackbird and common grackle (40 each). We were pleased to see 20 least terns--a threatened species in Connecticut, they nest on a nearby island and fish along the park's shoreline. Twenty-two species were represented by a single individual.

Blessedly, the lawn mowers were silent that day, and the park was nearly empty of people. In the spruce grove where we sometimes find wintering owls, we locked gazes with a coyote being mobbed by crows. It was probably on the prowl for woodchucks.

There were few mosquitoes, but I was plagued all day by dog ticks. I flicked off 15 to 20 while we were birding and when I got home removed 25 from my clothes.

I crowed for months about our 114-species Big Day because the area we cover is small. Though it took us 12 hours to find that many birds, a person walking briskly could cross Sherwood Island at its widest point in about 30 minutes.

Will I ever again see that many birds at Sherwood Island? Are 125 or more birds possible? With many species of birds thought to be declining because of habitat loss and fragmentation of existing habitat, I'm skeptical. Despite our one-day success, in recent years the height of the spring migration has at times seemed disturbingly quiet. Like birds that once blanketed the sky, our record is receding into the past.

Learn more about Sherwood Island State Park

Related article: The Eno House Fiasco

See the Sherwood Island Bird Checklist (295 species as of May 2007)

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A message from Robert Winkler

Jeff Brush/Connecticut Post (used with permission)

If you enjoyed this essay, I know you'll enjoy my critically acclaimed book, Going Wild: Adventures with Birds in the Suburban Wilderness (National Geographic), which expands on many of the short pieces I've posted here. Why do I write about birds? Because they represent the wild in all its glory. They're numerous, diverse, intelligent, talkative, and beautiful; their power of flight never ceases to amaze; and they're the most conspicuous class of wild animal—even in the suburb, they're just about everywhere. Whether you're a beginning or advanced birder, a fan of nature writing, a curious suburbanite, or a reader in search of that rare bird known as a good book, Going Wild could very well change how you view your world. So get your copy now, or buy one for your favorite birder or nature lover. Best deal on the Web: brand new, perfect copies $5 each (69% off) at National Geographic Books.

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