"October sunshine bathed the park with such a melting light that it had the dimmed impressive look of a landscape by an old master. Leaves, one, two at a time, sidled down through the windless air."
― Elizabeth Enright
"I cannot endure to waste anything so precious as autumnal sunshine by staying in the house."
― Nathaniel Hawthorne
It's Sunday, cold and overcast. But yesterday was glorious! Dottie Johnson and I went on a hike at Pheasant Branch to see what birds we could find across the beautiful fall landscape ― a blend of light, fragrance, and subtle avian sounds. It was one of those perfect October days that felt less like reality and more like a dream. You kind of want it to go on forever, but the sun's curtailed journey across the sky cuts the notion short.
There was plenty to admire. We found Palm and Orange-crowned Warblers, both Kinglets, a variety of sparrows that included Lincoln's, Fox, Field, Song, Swamp, White-crowned, and White-throated. We got great views of a Winter Wren, House Wren, and heard the chatter of a Sedge Wren, but were unable to coax it out into the open. Raptor-wise we found Red-tailed Hawks, a Northern Harrier, a hovering American Kestrel, and a single Turkey Vulture. Naturally, there were plenty of residents like Black-capped Chickadee, White-breasted Nuthatch, American Crows, Blue Jays, Northern Cardinals, various woodpeckers, and more. It won't be our final outing of the year, but probably the last avian exhibit of impressive diversity ― a veritable farewell parade. We had such a great time!
There weren't quite as many Lincoln's Sparrows (Melospiza lincolnii) as there were a few weeks ago, but there were still a fair number of these dapper and secretive birds around. I think we found around six of them. One day this species will be woke-renamed to some non-eponymous moniker. But you should know it won't change the fact that Audubon's companion, Thomas Lincoln, obtained a specimen (he shot it, naturally) during their expedition to the coast of Labrador, June 1833. Audubon at once recognized it as a new species and proclaimed it "Lincoln's Finch" for Thomas. Perhaps naming wildlife after people who discovered them was an exercise in conceit in the first place. But I doubt an official renaming of this species will prompt me to stop referring to them as the Think'n Link'n Sparrow. And I doubt renaming birds and other critters will make nature clubs more welcoming.
WARNING: Politically Incorrect Digression
Besides Dottie and I, there was no one else around observing these birds ― I couldn't quite imagine a safer space to do so. And yet there are new birding clubs forming throughout the United States creating 'safe spaces' away from white heterosexual men. Well, they'll state on their webpages that anyone is welcome, but what else are they going to say? The intent and purpose is clear ― they're tired of white men dominating their birding communities and organizations. Rather than bringing people together, I see new divisions being made. A safe space is one intended to be free of bias, conflict, criticism, threatening actions, ideas, or conversations. In a conversation I had a year or so ago, I was told that a woman is less frequently believed than a man when it comes to identification challenges because of their sex. I suppose an ID debate could be viewed as criticism, but any birder who calls something it isn't in my company will be corrected. Therein lies the offense, right? To be corrected or challenged isn't fun, and birding, if nothing else, should always be fun.
Besides Dottie and I, there was no one else around observing these birds ― I couldn't quite imagine a safer space to do so. And yet there are new birding clubs forming throughout the United States creating 'safe spaces' away from white heterosexual men. Well, they'll state on their webpages that anyone is welcome, but what else are they going to say? The intent and purpose is clear ― they're tired of white men dominating their birding communities and organizations. Rather than bringing people together, I see new divisions being made. A safe space is one intended to be free of bias, conflict, criticism, threatening actions, ideas, or conversations. In a conversation I had a year or so ago, I was told that a woman is less frequently believed than a man when it comes to identification challenges because of their sex. I suppose an ID debate could be viewed as criticism, but any birder who calls something it isn't in my company will be corrected. Therein lies the offense, right? To be corrected or challenged isn't fun, and birding, if nothing else, should always be fun.
And yet at least one study in 2008 showed that men were significantly more involved in birding in terms of their objective behavior and skill level, and slightly more committed to birding than women. If you were to ask me who the ten best birders are in Wisconsin, it would be a mix ― best at what? Identification? Education? Ambassadorship? Photography? Artistic representation? Sentimental Appreciation? For each category a different person comes to mind; some are men and some are women. But perhaps it's the case that, for whatever reason, men are more skilled when it comes to identifying birds ― who are the field guide authors? Why is that? To be sure, we're all observing the same things when out in Nature, but are we seeing them in the same way? Is there a biological-neuronal reason males differentially see and identify wild creatures? There are studies that suggest this may be so.
Look at the Top 100 eBirders for 2022.
Here's another interesting datapoint: The Wisconsin Society for Ornithology has an award called The Bronzed Passenger Pigeon. Initiated in 1994, this award is presented to individuals who have made outstanding contributions in their local communities or in the state to promote the field of ornithology. The contributions may be through teaching (all levels); through conservation work (protection, preservation, restoration of habitat, etc.); or through organizational efforts (forming bird clubs or other groups which further ornithology). In looking at all recipients, here's the breakdown:
A man only: 26
A woman only: 5
A man and woman (husband and wife): 4
What I don't know is how the overall WSO membership breaks down by sex. Still, that's pretty telling, isn't it? This recognition comes first as candidates who are nominated by their peers, and then I assume there's a selection process by WSO. So, does WSO need to change, or should people who aren't white heterosexual males create more clubs, organizations, institutions, etc., that (sort of) excludes them? I mean, they (white men) aren't all welcome in their entirety, right? Breakout clubs are the very point. Should they create their own awards, too? The entire enterprise has turned into such a convoluted shit-show that it's one of the many reasons I no longer belong to any ornithological organization. Put a bunch of people together and you'll always find disagreement, conflicts, and cliques. Today there's only one aristocracy, and that's the one right here (points to noggin).
So, why should I care?
Anyway, what a digression that was. Back to the birds ...
Also a member of the genus Melospiza, the Song Sparrow (M. melodia) was given a descriptive common and scientific binomial name that'll likely never be changed. Even this time of the year a few of them were working on song quality. Naturally, on account of changes being made to their hormonal cycle by the photoperiod, songs were barely recognizable. I can't help but chuckle and think "You'll get better!"
While White-throated Sparrows still outnumbered White-crowned, gorgeous adults provided excellent views and were singing decently recognizable songs. Both species have overwintered at Pheasant Branch, but most of the White-crowned Sparrows move out by late November. Throughout winter, I can continue to find White-throats along the trail adjacent to the Conservancy Condominiums on account of all the bird feeders, springs, and habitat cover.
An amazing display of Nature's palette ...
Fall seed dispersal ...
A kind of promise ...
Death ...
And hope ...
The temperature fell into the upper-twenties a couple nights ago and there were even fewer insects that survived the wintery dip. There were still grasshoppers jumping out of the way of my feet as I traversed the trail, but far fewer than my previous outing. I observed no bees or crickets, and (naturally) no tiger beetles. Winter isn't far away and what seemed like an abbreviated fall will have to suffice for color and memories until spring. The russets, crimsons, and yellows will give way to brown and death. Winter outings are coming and with it an entirely different assortment of things to appreciate.
All images © 2022 Mike McDowell