As any of my faithful readers will know, I am an unrepentant birder with a bit of a “lister” streak. This is a feature common to almost every birder on the planet, but the exact presentation of the “lister” gene varies from one birder to the next. The common denominator for all the listers is the compulsion to keep track of things, especially if they can be kept in “sets.”
The “mega lister” is the sort of person that sees the species on the Massachusetts Audubon Society’s Checklist of the Birds of Massachusetts and decides to try to check off ever box. This list contains the names of 323 species that regularly occur in our fair state; a number and variety of species that would prove a formidable challenge for anyone to accumulate in a lifetime, never mind a single year.
I haven’t bothered to sit down and fill out this list for myself because I’m already afflicted with another variety of the lister’s gene. Nonetheless, I can tell you that there is a host of species on the checklist that I have never laid eyes on in my life. Most of them are coastal and pelagic species that one doesn’t typically see here in the Pioneer Valley.
I was able to add a new species to the list when I visited Cape Cod in August. I was out on a whale watch, far from land, and caught sight of a greater shearwater (Ardenna gravis). However, what I didn’t see was a Cory’s shearwater, a sooty shearwater or a Manx shearwater. And don’t get me started on storm petrels and fulmars. I knew this was a mistake. Breathe, Bill. Breathe.
Anyway, I have decided to keep lists of birds that I see in my own yard every month. This way, year after year, there comes a continuous supply of opportunities to do better this year than last year. Each month has a current record and I try to break the record every time. This translates into an outstanding understanding of the rhythms of bird life in my little slice of the world and an awareness of odd changes in those rhythms.
So let’s take a look at November. I’m not proud of this, but as I go further back into my archives, the details of the records become increasingly sparse. This is partially because my interest in listing has evolved over time, so I won’t beat myself up too badly. My current list of Novembers starts with 2009, and in that inaugural year, I managed to detect the presence of 19 species in my yard. By 2012, the number had risen to 27 species, then dipped down to 25 in 2013. There was a surge to 30 species in 2014, and then 31 species in both 2015 and 2016.
These two years were very interesting because they both had 31 species, but they were different species. 2015 was different because it had common ravens and common grackles, whereas 2016 lacked those two species and had red-breasted nuthatches and white-crowned sparrows instead. In 2017, I only detected 30 species, so I wondered if I may have peaked.
This November started off like most months do. I saw 20 species of birds on the first day that I had a chance to stay home and make observations. Then it took me another two weeks to add 10 more species, and I eventually found myself looking for just one species to tie the record and two to set a new one. Could I do it?
Well, the answer came on Nov. 17, in the most spectacular fashion. I was sitting at my kitchen window, desperately seeking that elusive 31st species, when I saw a flock of waterfowl pass over the house. I knew they weren’t Canada geese, but couldn’t imagine what they actually were. I grabbed my binoculars and ran out onto the deck just in time to identify a flock of common mergansers heading west. I had just tied the record!
Then, almost without effort, I added three more. A female brown-headed cowbird showed up and filled the No. 32 slot. Then a female purple finch arrived at my sunflower feeder and the No. 33 slot was occupied. But the big one came on Thanksgiving Day, as I stood in front of the sink and started unpacking the turkey for that evening’s meal. There I was, turkey in hand, when I looked outside and saw a flock of wild turkeys walking through my yard. I can’t think of a better way to set a record.
The start of December also marked the start of a new list. The record for this month is, again, 31 species and it was set, again, in 2016. What will happen this year? Stay tuned!
Bill Danielson has been a professional writer and nature photographer for 21 years. He has worked for the National Park Service, the U.S. Forest Service and Massachusetts State Parks, and currently teaches high school biology and physics. Visit speakingofnature.com for more information, or go to Speaking of Nature on Facebook.