Birds: Part I

Once upon a time when I was an undergraduate at Benedictine College, I did some research involving bird biodiversity on a mitigated Missouri River wetland site.

Then I switched to researching Prozac in fish (everyone always giggles when I say this, but it's the truth) for my Master's degree. Birds got left behind.

Then, being unfulfilled academically with the world of fish research, I opted to gear my life back in the avian direction when it was time for a new degree.

This time around, being scientist performing bird research instigated a new hobby. Birding. Not birdwatching, mind you. But birding. There's a difference. Ask any birder - he or she will tell you.

So in hopes of sharing some of the fruits of this hobby, my plan is to write a few posts with some photos of (what I think are) interesting birds. Some of these species are easy to find, others not so much. But in every case, I'm pretty sure that the photos don't actually do the birds justice.

It's hard enough to take photos of birds anyway - they can move in three dimensions you know. I am only accustomed to moving in two. And without a telephoto lens, I have to be sneaky to get as close as I do most times.

Anyway, the birdy posts shall commence with... shorebirds!

A breeding (or at least the male is hopeful that this is/will be so) pair of Least Terns. He is offering her a small fish in return for her affections. She is slighting him by aiming her tail feathers in the direction of his stinky fish. I'm not hungry right now, thank you. He followed her around, wagging this fish at her for a good while. He never tired of the exercise, and she never tired of showing him her backside. I, however, did tire of the escapade and moved on with my life without waiting to see how it turned out.

Here we have a Whimbrel (on left with down-curved bill) and a Black-bellied Plover (toward the right (with black belly)) and some Semipalmated Plovers mixed in. Shorebirds are fun/frustrating because you never really know what you might be able to pick out in a mixed flock of migrants. Almost anything could be lurking in there. Somebody's always leaving the flock, and someone else is always flying in, but it's the birder's job to keep track of them all while scanning the whole flock to make sure that there are no Purple Sandpipers where there aren't normally Purple Sandpipers. A spotting scope (though I hate to admit it) can help.

Here is one of the oddest-looking birds I can think of. Orange eyes, red bill and pink legs make this an American Oystercatcher. And yes, this one is wading amongst the oysters in this oyster bed, going about his work of... catching oysters. In true life he is probably just looking for little crabs and insects in there. But they do eat oysters too.

Here is one of a Dunlin in the spring, still working on his black belly patch for to impress the lady Dunlin in the summer. Though you can't really see it here, this species is characterized by a slightly drooping bill. I may, on my bravest of days, dare to refer to it as cute. It's as if someone took a normal shorebird bill and grabbed it by the end and bent it downward ever so slightly.

And this bird... oh this is one of my favorites. A Marbled Godwit. This guy has the opposite bill situation from the Dunlin above in that his long, skinny bill is slightly upcurved. And oh so delicate.

Now boys and girls, don't try this at home, but I walked through multiple oyster beds at low tide in flip-flops to take a picture of that bird. That is the extent to which my admiration for this species will take me (well, I'd probably do something crazier, but I didn't have a need to this time).

What was I doing in the salt marsh at low tide wearing flip-flops you might ask? Well, kayaking of course. The thing about turning into a birder is that in the beginning, you might forget that you're a birder (and that birders never stop birding) and then go do something like get in a kayak wearing flip-flops at low tide. But then being unable keep from birding, it becomes necessary to exit the vessel and pursue your quarry on (flip-flopped) foot.

The end result was the photo above and a left big toe with a large slice on the side. A slice that has left a scar. A scar that I think of in my head as my Godwit scar.