On the Wing #17: With Certainty or With Doubt?
For the past few days, I haven't added a new species to my list and feel like I've hit a wall. In some respects I have, with many of the early migrants that I haven't seen before as well as, those commoner birds that I'm more used to seeing around my house and in neighboring areas. As September has slipped away and allowed the fall to begin, I feel the time slipping away as well. It's nearly October and with 282 species on the list, I feel like I'm wasting time. In the same moment however, I also know that I'm way ahead of the curve and would only need a few sightings here and there to finish this task.
I don't know why I'm so worried. Could it be because I'm actually interested in completing a long-term goal or is it an added challenge that I've brought to my birding that has pushed me from familiar haunts and hideaways into the wider birding world around me? I personally think it's the latter. By having such a goal, I have been able to see not only more species, but also experience the changes they go through during the weeks and months I've been tracking them. The grip of fall is beginning as dabblers like freshly-dressed male Mallards (Anas platyrhynchos) and still drab Blue-winged Teal (Anas discors) prepare for their October migrations, the return of chickadees and titmice to the backyard feeders, and the chill of mornings spent looking for those small brown birds that will help me complete my list.
Once again, I'm anxious about my ability to identify species that I need. Even though I keep a running list of places they've most recently been sighted at, I still doubt my ability at identifying sparrows, warblers, and any other combination of small birds that flit and frolic in the uppermost tree branches and through the low patches of weeds and other debris tossed and piled at the sides of trails. Now, every time I see a Savannah Sparrow (Passerculus sandwichensis), I hope that it has a tea stain over it's breast streaks that would turn it into a Lincoln's Sparrow (Melospiza lincolnii) or have it be dusty and pale except with a strong moustache bar like a Clay-colored Sparrow (Spizella pallida). But instead, I'm rewarded with a either a brief glimpse of streaky plumage in a bush somewhere or it ends up being a Savannah Sparrow.
Hopefully I can get this done. Maybe with warblers. Maybe with sparrows. Perhaps with everything in between. But until I do, whenever I'm faced with a new species, I will either approach it with certainty or with doubt. Hopefully with a little more of the former than the last.
I don't know why I'm so worried. Could it be because I'm actually interested in completing a long-term goal or is it an added challenge that I've brought to my birding that has pushed me from familiar haunts and hideaways into the wider birding world around me? I personally think it's the latter. By having such a goal, I have been able to see not only more species, but also experience the changes they go through during the weeks and months I've been tracking them. The grip of fall is beginning as dabblers like freshly-dressed male Mallards (Anas platyrhynchos) and still drab Blue-winged Teal (Anas discors) prepare for their October migrations, the return of chickadees and titmice to the backyard feeders, and the chill of mornings spent looking for those small brown birds that will help me complete my list.
Once again, I'm anxious about my ability to identify species that I need. Even though I keep a running list of places they've most recently been sighted at, I still doubt my ability at identifying sparrows, warblers, and any other combination of small birds that flit and frolic in the uppermost tree branches and through the low patches of weeds and other debris tossed and piled at the sides of trails. Now, every time I see a Savannah Sparrow (Passerculus sandwichensis), I hope that it has a tea stain over it's breast streaks that would turn it into a Lincoln's Sparrow (Melospiza lincolnii) or have it be dusty and pale except with a strong moustache bar like a Clay-colored Sparrow (Spizella pallida). But instead, I'm rewarded with a either a brief glimpse of streaky plumage in a bush somewhere or it ends up being a Savannah Sparrow.
Hopefully I can get this done. Maybe with warblers. Maybe with sparrows. Perhaps with everything in between. But until I do, whenever I'm faced with a new species, I will either approach it with certainty or with doubt. Hopefully with a little more of the former than the last.
Comments
Post a Comment