Guest Blog #4 (Polly Madsen)

Phew – it’s hot here in this trailer park at 8:00 p.m. It’s also loud with the sound of frogs. We are in Gulfport, Mississippi and it’s our last night with Team Birdyear. After more than 2 weeks of travelling with Malkolm, Ken and Wendy, we (Sam, Kirst and I) have fallen into a good rhythm of biking, birding, biscuit eating and beer drinking.

There are, however, some differences between us and Team Birdyear. Firstly, while we do occasionally sing, we refrain (and actually cringe a little) when Team Birdyear fuses bird names into rock and roll classics, such as the frequently heard verse of the Beach Boys ‘Barbara Ann’ with “bah, bah, bah, bah, bobolink” inserted into the chorus.

Secondly, while we are carrying what some may refer to as “extraneous items”, such as shaving razors and mascara, Team Birdyear carries such items as their favourite ‘pooh sticks’ (see Winnie the Pooh) as well as mason jars, which will be carried for miles, until some unsuspecting RV’er will be pressured (by Wendy) into becoming a food canner so that the mason jars won’t be thrown away.

Finally, while Team Birdyear is frequently armed (with binoculars) and ‘on a bird’ (meaning looking at a rare and interesting bird), we have one pair of sad binoculars between us and if we are ‘on a bird’ it is most likely to be of the fried chicken variety.

Differences aside, we will be sad to leave. Come next week we will be participating in the great adventure of birdyear from the sterile environments of our various computer desks and the only evening sounds we’ll hear will be the cold wind outside our house (or perhaps our cat Alice asking to be fed).

The Yucatan Express (Ken)

The future was misty and unclear when we first started talking about doing a Bird Year several years ago. Malkolm, however, knew one thing. He wanted to be along the upper Gulf Coast during the spring migration. Now I know why.

Before we headed to Dauphin Island, a famous “migrant trap,” we stopped at the bird banding station at Fort Morgan. We were lucky to meet Scott Weidensaul (Pulitzer Prize nominated author of Living on the Wind), and Bob and Martha Sargent, the founders of the banding station. It was a slow day for birds at Fort Morgan.

“The songbirds are all being blown to the interior,” Bob said, pointing up at the trees swaying in the brisk south wind. “A front is coming through tomorrow though – things will be different this weekend.”

He was right. On Saturday the canopy at the Shell Mounds was dripping with warblers, orioles and tanagers. It was hard to know where to point your binoculars. Bird rumors rippled through the birders along the trails. “There is a Painted Bunting down at the bowl. Have you seen the Scarlet Tanager? I heard someone saw a Swainson’s Warbler near the Bee Tree!”

Most of the other birders had heard about Malkolm’s Bird Year and were chasing him down whenever they saw an interesting migrant. By the time the sun set on Saturday, Malkolm found 10 new species of birds – a tough thing to do when you’ve already identified 474 species. Sunday was the same and we were all frazzled at the end of the day.

We were almost relieved when the weather cleared and the south winds resumed on Monday. We could imagine the invisible migrants riding the northward Yucatan Express over our heads. Almost relieved.

Guest Blog #3 (Kirsten Madsen)

Ken was scissor-jumping in the air as our Greyhound bus pulled into the station in Panama City, Florida, and two other brightly-colored cyclists were waving loonily (in the non-bird sense).
"I guess that's your people," someone on the bus said.

How did they know? Is it that obvious?

Ken, Wendy and Malkolm have become super bike mechanics and assembled our bikes in no time flat and we were off.

It is taking me a while to get used to how friendly everyone is. People ask lots of questions, like "Where y'all headed?" and KWM get to talk about how they've been biking for 9 months all the way from what we refer to as 'up near Alaska'. Then the people look at Polly, Sam and I with our white legs and clean bright shirts and we admit we've been biking at least a couple of days.

Biking yesterday we got at least one middle finger and a number of Springbreaker yawps. We stopped in Seaside (where The Truman Show was filmed, if that gives you any indication) and there certainly were a lot of white picket fences. On the lawn in the centre of town genetically modified children giggled cutely. I passed two women tsk-ing on a wooden boardwalk. "Look at that stain," one said, shaking her head sadly over a frothy pink splotch on the wood. "I know," the other woman said sadly. "It's been there three days now."

Through a birding connection, we ended up going from camping to lounging in a luxury condo development the next night. All I can say is I don't know how I lived without a private beach before; the public beach is just so tacky.

Those with a particular interest in my ass will be pleased to hear it is holding up okay. As long as I don't actually sit on my bike seat it hardly hurts at all. Yesterday we rode 63 miles. That's like ONE HUNDRED kilometres.

Oh yeah - birds. I think I have seen about 8 species so far. (It would be more like 11 but Malkolm tells me Hooters don't count.)

Hummingbirds and hummers (Malkolm)

Spring time. Migration. Warblers, vireos, thrushes and hummers arriving back. No I meant Hummingbirds not hummers. We’ve seen 10 species of Hummingbirds so far this trip, meanwhile keeping track of the models and colours of hummers passing us would be tedious. I’ve put together a few comparison points regarding the 2 Hs.

1) Hummingbirds make a high pitched hum. Hummers don’t hum, they rumble.

2) Hummer trucks are huge. Hummingbirds aren’t. A Hummer weighs as much as 9 million and eighty thousand Rufous Hummingbirds.

3) Hummers get lousy gas mileage. About ten miles per gallon. Hummingbirds get good fat mileage. The equivalent weight of a gallon of fuel in body fat could fuel a Rufous Hummingbird nine hundred and eighty five thousand, four hundred miles. That is more than the equivalent of going to the moon and back twice.

Anyway back to bird year. We’re looking forward to seeing (not Rufous) but Ruby-throated Hummingbirds re-fuelling on nectar after their migration over the Gulf of Mexico. Soon the number of migrating warblers, vireos, thrushes and hummingbirds will outnumber the hummers. I’m looking forward to that.

Another election scandal (Ken).

Until a couple of days ago, I thought that state or provincial birds were cute, folksy things that appealed mainly to primary school students and people who worked in tourism offices. I thought that – until I heard about the Florida State Bird election controversy. Maybe you are tired of hearing about yet another Florida election scandal, but this one is important, too.

I don’t have all of the details: dates, numbers, etc, but here’s what I’ve heard. The two front-runners in a Florida State Bird election a few years ago were Northern Mockingbird and Florida Scrub Jay. It was looking as though the jay might pull off an upset . . . until some developers suddenly threw their support – and campaign dollars – behind the mockingbird. I don’t know if the campaigning was as dirty as during political elections, but in the final polls the Northern Mockingbird was declared the winner.

I am going to go out on a limb (although not as far out as a jay or mocker would go) and say that Northern Mockingbirds don’t give a squawk about whether or not they are the Florida State Bird or not. The Mockingbird is already the state bird of Arkansas, Tennessee, Mississippi, Texas, and Florida.

Here are some reasons why I believe that Florida Scrub Jays would make an excellent State Bird:

1) The Florida Scrub Jay lives only in Florida and is the state’s only endemic bird (Northern Mockingbirds are widespread across North America and Mexico and have been seen in every state except Hawaii and every province and territory in Canada except Nunavut).

2) The Florida Scrub Jay is beautiful: a misty, cerulean blue with a pale gray back.

3) I am the first to admit that a Northern Mockingbird is a splendid singer, but have you ever heard the Florida Scrub-Jay’s raucous, rising kreeeesh?

4) Most importantly, Floridians would make sure that Florida Scrub Jays survive into the future. They have been on Audubon’s 10 Most Endangered Birds list, and their numbers are still declining. They can’t afford to lose any more habitat, and what is remaining needs to be managed properly.

This may seem like a tongue-in-cheek blog, but I’m serious. I’ve heard that there is already a small (but hopefully determined) group of people who hope to rally support for another vote for Florida State Bird. I hope that anyone who reads this blog can find a way to help such as writing a letter to an appropriate politician or contacting your local Audubon or other conservation-minded organization. Good luck!

A Bittern-Sweet Moment (Wendy)

“We don’t believe they exist” I said to Dave Fix last September. We were scanning Arcata Marsh in northern California with binoculars, searching for American Bitterns. We had been hoping to see them for eight years, ever since we first visited the Everglades. They are as long as snow geese, but streaky-brown and secretive. “Keep poundin’ the reeds” advised Dave.

“We suspect there is no such bird as American Bittern,” I told Todd Newberry, as we looked over Elkhorn Slough near Monterey. Todd nodded thoughtfully. “Ask local birders as you travel,” he said, “it will be a good way to break the ice.” One helpful birder from southern Florida, Ken Burgener, made a video of our stay with him. He taunted us by peppering it with subliminal glimpses of bitterns.

All fall and winter we asked local birders for advice and pounded the local reeds. Most people told us that they had seen one just last week, standing right out in the open. We visited great bittern habitat: Aransas National Wildlife Refuge, Mad Island, Corkscrew Swamp. Our luck did not change. “I think this bittern thing is a gigantic hoax,” I told Malkolm and Ken.

Late in February we returned to the Everglades. One morning, Malkolm left camp at first light. Ken and I finished our coffee and then followed. Malkolm waved his arms in semaphore fashion as soon he saw us. His eyes told the story. He had seen his American Bittern, but it was a bittern-sweet moment for Ken and me. We were happy that Malkolm had seen the bittern, but American Coffee had come between us and our bird.

Viera Wetland is an engineered marsh, used for the last stage of wastewater treatment. It is a pretty place, and not smelly. Jim Meyer and Eileen Riccio saw 2 bitterns here, two weeks before we arrived. They kindly joined us. I looked out over an expanse of reeds, and thought that there was no need for a bittern ever to show itself. Just then, a large streaky brown bird erupted from the vegetation, and flew quickly to its destination. Just as it landed, I saw its profile, so familiar from the bird books. Immediately, it melted back into the greenery.

“Did you see that?” we all asked each other. I am not sure whose grin was widest.

Now that we knew where it was, we caught glimpses of that bittern from time to time. It moved excruciatingly slowly. The photo at top gives you an idea why these birds are so darned difficult to locate (hint: it is in top right quadrant).

American Bitterns exist! Triumph at last!

Guest Blog #2 (Sa Boothroyd)

This is Wendy’s sister Sa writing. I have a few things to say about team bird year that may not yet have been said. I have been riding, or vacationing, with these guys for nearly 2 weeks. I would like to enlighten those of you reading as to what Bird Year really seems to be about. Maybe I should start with their rules:

#1. No passing a bagel store unless you already have fresh bagels

#2. No passing an ice cream store on a hot day

#3. No passing a funky coffee shop unless you can blindfold Wendy

There are two topics of discussion on this trip, Malkolm talks about birds and the others discuss food. We talk about what we are about to eat, where we will eat it, where we should stop and buy food and how the meal was last night. This is a Food and Birding trip. Wendy and Ken make comments to Malkolm during the rides about birds they see but really these are distractions from the thrust of their thoughts.

Maybe I have just lucked into a lazy section of their trip but here is a typical day in southern Florida:

Get up and eat.

Pack up. I am always the last to be ready. Some members of Bird Year give me the hairy eyeball.

Ride 10-15 miles and talk about a nice coffee shop we might stop at.

Never find that coffee shop so we stop at the next Publix and buy lunch groceries.

Debate bagel over flat bread or both.

Ride 1 mile and stop to eat.

Talk about dinner.

Ride 5 miles and talk about swimming in the Atlantic. Check out the beach and decide it is too windy and cold.

Ride 5 miles to a Publix and get dinner provisions. I get ice for my mini-cooler and we put the beer in it to keep cold for the final 2 mile grind to the campground.

Pull in at 4pm. Have a shower. Open some beer.

Talk about dinner.

Malkolm takes off to see birds somewhere.

We drink some more beer.

Make dinner.

Wash dishes in cold water without soap.

Talk about the bird Malkolm saw that day and how far we rode.

Brush teeth, go to bed.

Think about tomorrow’s food.

That is all.

It is a good way to live. Slow and smooth. They put up with me and that isn’t always easy. I get tea brought to me in bed most mornings so I shouldn’t complain. But here, in this blog, I just wanted you to know the truth.