Home : Bird Watcher's Digest : Bird Watcher's Digest November/December 2009 Issue Excerpt: Backyard Rarities

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ID Yourself: Backyard Rarities

Many of us do much, if not most, of our bird watching at backyard feeders. When I am at home, looking at the feeders and backyard bushes is something I do repeatedly throughout the day. Over the years I have been able to see some great birds, including some rarities for northern California, right in my yard. They have been noteworthy enough that I have reported them on the rare bird alert and online discussion groups. The neighbors eventually asked what the heck was going on with all the binocular-clad people walking the streets looking for something called a "prairie warbler"—they figured it was my fault. Fortunately, my neighbors are great and curious people; a few of them even got into looking for some of the rarities and sharing the excitement with the bird watchers.

Rare birds are fun, but they are just one aspect of bird watching. I could live my entire life enjoying birds without ever seeing a vagrant (lost bird) again, but given a choice I would keep the rare birds in my life. I enjoy feeling my heart race—that adrenalin boost I get when I realize, "Oh my, is that a prothonotary warbler in my yard? Awesome!" Then I sit back and contemplate, looking at the maps and realizing how far out of its way that bird had to go to end up as my guest. The power of flight, the distance traveled, the bad luck that this bird got lost—they all point to something truly awe-inspiring about birds. Sure, you can get this contemplative thrill seeing a migratory bird anywhere, but when it is totally unexpected, out of context, out of place, and in your backyard, it hits like a hammer.

Unfortunately, our birding culture pays too much attention to vagrants, because it is so easy to be thrilled by them. But there is so much more to enjoying birds than chasing rarities. Many of us are delighted just seeing the regular birds in our yard. Many common birds are among the most stunning on Earth; it is hard to beat the beauty of a northern cardinal, common though it is.

Imagine this scenario: a look at the feeders today reveals house finches dropping in and out, American goldfinches now losing their yellow dress, the mourning doves always in loving pairs below the feeders waiting for scraps. Maybe a fantastic hooded oriole pops in—wow! A local white-crowned sparrow flies in for a feed once or twice a day, and you can see how tiny it looks next to a California towhee.

But wait—a streaky sparrow just darted through. What is it? It's streaky below, so it can't be a white-crown. It's not the right pattern for a song sparrow. It's not right for anything! This is something rare—something really rare—you just know it. Forget about figuring out exactly what this is; it's obviously nothing you see around here! It's clearly something good, so get some locals over to see this thing before it goes away. Send out the e-mails, get on the phone—don't let this rarity get away without anyone seeing it! Great, now you've some folks coming, and they will be here in half an hour. In the meantime, keep an eye on this streaky unknown bird; don't let it out of your sight.

Then it happens—your heart sinks as you see the adult white-crowned sparrow feed its streaky youngster. "Oh, no, it a baby white-crown!" You picture your reputation heading down a pipe to the nearest sewage treatment plant. "If I had only waited, if I had only thought about it a bit more. Dang." With your tail between your legs, you phone everybody, send out e-mails, and explain, "I had rare bird fever." You swear to yourself that you'll never get carried away like that again. But in truth, you realize it's not always easy to keep yourself from being swept away by the excitement of a possible rare bird sighting.