Twitching

Have you seen it?" Those are our first words to the strangers on the street, but we are completely understood. They have binoculars too. Another car arrives, on this residential West Olympia street, and the driver asks us, "Have you seen it?"

This probably sounds rather cultish, and it is. We are privy to arcane knowledge. The word is out on every birding listserv and rarity report in the country. A rare siberian thrush, called a Redwing, has been sighted in Olympia. There is no previous west coast record for this bird.  Now this oblivious bird is the focus of eager attention by hundreds of birders, some of whom are going to fly in from across the country for a glimpse.

Another birder shows up. "It was in this tree," (pointing to a large deciduous tree in a backyard), "and making regular feeding trips to a holly all morning. I watched it from 7:30 until 10." But he didn't know where the bird was now. All of us had the same idea for finding the bird--look for other birders. All we found were others following the same search strategy.

A man on a bicycle sees us and stops. "They're all over there two blocks," motioning to the west on 4th Ave. In an alley, behind a hair salon, is a crowd of 30 birders, binoculars and scopes aimed upwards into a broad, leafless tree. I spy the Redwing through one of the scopes. The bird is high in the tree, and hard to spot in the branches and against the bright overcast sky. It looks like a smallish Robin with a streaky breast. Some of these people have been staking out the bird for hours. "The edge of the tertials and the coverts are lighter--it means it's an immature," says one of the watchers.

There are dozens of Robins also in the flock, some of which are dribbling into a small holly tree in another backyard. A shout. "There it goes!" Into the holly tree, deep out of sight. "I saw the red in the wings!" exclaims someone.

Civilians walking through the neighborhood look upon this crowd with curiosity and bemusement. Word of this bird broke in birding circles last week. A resident reported, however, that it had been visiting his backyard for two months.

Now I am not big on "twitching", which means organizing one's life around chasing rarities. But this bird was on the way to our weekend getaway on the coast, and I couldn't pass up the opportunity.

Anyone who watches birds with regularity has a life list, an enumeration of all the species of birds they have seen. In the more competitive birding circles, the number on your life list conveys status and serious intent. It assigns you your place on the pecking order. I have what is an even more rarified (read snotty) attitude toward my list--I keep one, but I don't know the precise count. It is large enough, however, to denote accomplishment and relatively high status. Mostly it means I've lived and birded in a lot of places in my life, particularly SE Arizona. But who's counting?

Robin asks me later, "What did seeing that bird mean to you?" My instant response: "It's a life bird." But I'm not a twitcher, OK?

Comments

[Michael Wienholt]

Nice site, thanks.

I'm between jobs (moving to Tucson on Jan. 15) and had some frequent flyer miles and a buddy in Portland, so I flew to PDX on Monday and was whisked away to Olympia. I missed the bird by 2.5 hours. My friend hd seen it 2 days previous. Spent the rest of the day searching - no luck. Flew home to San Diego the next morning. Probably should have stayed another day, but I'm not a twitcher (normally).

The locals were a bemused bunch. The fellow whose yard apparently hosted the bird most frequently didn't say anything to the group when I was there but he looked as thought the enthusiasm was waning. The fun part of this adventure for me was the idea that a vagrabt can show up anywhere/anytime in your own "patch". Reinforces the feeling in me that watching birds is more than keeping a list. It can simply be a way to think about the wider world and wonder.

Michael Wienholt
Poway, CA

[puck]

As one of "the locals," thank you for this post - it is interesting to see a cohesive statement from one of the birders. I've read the newspaper articles, but blogs are certainly nice to see. I just hope you weren't one of the people with a walkie talkie. (smile)

[MIchael Wienholt]

No, I had no "Walkie-Talkie". But your comment reminded me of the time I chased the Smew in Tracy, CA some years ago. Talk about radios and "bemused locals". My favorite comment was: "Have you seen the Russian Duck?".

Cheers,

Michael Wienholt
Tucson, AZ

P.S. Come to AZ and set up your camera in my backyard - 88 species and counting!