Tuesday, December 4, 2012

Big News for Birds and Sports Teams!


Big news, you guys.

As an amateur sociologist examining that thin slice of Venn-Diagram between birds and human civilization, I think a lot about birds and sports teams.  Despite the general sense that birds don't play much of a role in the lives of non-birders, there are a whole bunch of sports teams - both pro and college - named after birds.

And now, we're getting another one.  News outlets are reporting that the New Orleans Hornets (nee the Charlotte Hornets, which moved into town when the former New Orleans NBA team left to create the hilariously-named-and-borderline-oxymoronic Utah Jazz) are changing their name to ... wait for it ... the New Orleans Pelicans. 

The pelicans!  I love it, for a bunch of reasons.  One, New Orleans is covered with Brown Pelicans, so this change reflects my preference for locally-relevant team names.  Two, instead of some generic "tough" bird like a hawk or an eagle, pelicans are charmingly awkward and non-threatening (unless you're a fish).  Third, because the New Orleans Pelicans was formally the name of a minor league baseball team, there's a chance we could see the return of this adorable (if ornithologically-inaccurate) logo:


What a great development!  The nickname is likely to change in time for the 2013-14 season, so get your season tickets now.

Monday, November 12, 2012

The First American Birder?


I was poking around in some of the dusty, cobwebbed corners of the inter-net the other day when I came upon the story of David Ingram.  The legend of David Ingram?  The mystery?  I don't know what to call it, but it's goddamn fascinating.

David Ingram was an Englishman who left his home country in 1567 with a couple hundred other guys in a fleet of five vessels on a slave-stealing mission to the Caribbean.  Now, here are two generally-to-widely accepted facts about what happened next:

  1. After being attacked by the Spanish, Ingram and about a hundred other sailors were cast ashore at Tampico, Mexico - a town at the westernmost point of the Gulf of Mexico, two hundred miles south of what's now the Mexico/USA border.
  2. 11 months later, Ingram and two others of his original party were discovered by a French fishing vessel ... ON THE COAST OF NOVA SCOTIA.  NOVA SCOTIAIN CANADA.
And how, you and literally everyone else who has ever heard this story might ask, did these guys get from the middle of Mexico to the shores of Nova Scotia 3,000 miles away in 1568 (1568!) with no roads or boat or maps?  They walked, of course.  Something like this:




The journey boggles the mind, but no one has any evidence that those basic facts are untrue.  Thirteen years after he was rescued and returned to England, Ingram told his story to a guy named Sir Humphrey Gilbert, and that testimony was then published by another guy named Richard Hakluyt in 1589 as part of his series on English exploration called Principal Navigations, Voyages, Traffiques and Discoveries of the English Nation.  While I've searched the dark corners of the internet for Hakluyt's relation of Ingram's story, I can't find it (just the still-interesting version of Hakluyt's Principal Navigations released in 1590).

The best article about Ingram's journey is "The Longest Walk: David Ingram's Amazing Journey," published by Charlton Ogburn in American Heritage magazine in 1979.  Odgen writes that Ingram's telling of the story to Gilbert was oddly short for such an amazing story, and was likely embellished by a combination of factors including Ingram's poor memory (it was thirteen years later, remember), his subsequent travels to Africa and South America, and the general English will to believe that there was a passage to Asia somewhere in the New World.

Ingram does make some interesting observations, though, observations that are recognized as the first English language descriptions of inland America.  Ingram talks of huge Native American cities filled with silver and rubies, animals that sound like elephants, and, of course, birds.  Birds!  The first English-language descriptions of American land birds!

Ingram spoke of "Guinie hennĂ©s which are tame Birds … as big as Geese, very blacke of colour," that were likely turkeys.  He spoke of an "abundance of Russet Parrots" that, while initially puzzling, were likely Passenger Pigeons.  Ingram described the flamingo - a bird "billed like a shovel" - though it's unclear where Ingram would have seen flamingos during his journey. [NOTE: smart commenters below have pointed out that this bird is much more likely to be a Roseate Spoonbill, not a flamingo.]  Either flamingos were more commonly seen on the Mexican coast back then, or Ingram was confusing this tale with another of his eastern journeys.



Ingram also describes a "very strange Bird, thrise as big as an Eagle, very beautifull to beholde … his head and thigh as big as a mans … His beake and talents in proportion like Egles, but very huge and large."  Huh?  Ogburn and the ornithologist George E. Watson seem to think that this mystery bird could be some link to the "terror birds" found fossilized in Texas and Florida, but neither seem to actually believe that.  Could be a Condor, somehow?  A Golden Eagle (elsewhere, Ingram describes seeing "feathers in the haire of" Native Americans, from "a Byrde as bigge as a goose of russet collour"- likely one of the two American eagle species)?  A crane?  No idea.

Ingram also describes the Great Auk, a bird "which hunteth the Riuers neere unto the Hands: They are of the shape and bignesse of a Goose but their wings are couered with small yelowe feathers, and cannot flie: You may driue them before you like sheepe: They are exceeding fatte and very delicate meate."  Ingram went on to say that these Auks "have white heads, and therefore the Countrey men call them Penguins (which seemeth to be a Welsh name)."  While no one is really sure what the white heads part is about, the use of the word "penguin" is believed to be one of the first ever uses of that word. [Note again: smart commenters below have other theories for this, the coolest and, I believe, most likely of which being the now-extinct Labrador Duck, in all its white-headed glory.  Though, Ingram's yellow wing comment is still open to question.]

It's interesting that two of the handful of birds Ingram describes are now extinct.  The ubiquitousness and lack of fear of Great Auks and Passenger Pigeons were their most noteworthy characteristics - and also what hastened their declines.  America's earliest birds found a land that was much different than what we see now, and what many birders wouldn't give to recreate Ingram's walk!  

[Note: I recognize that the "First American" in the title excludes Native Americans, the Spanish, and anyone else who was in America before Ingram.  This is just the first English-language account that exists.]


Sunday, October 28, 2012

Can you ID Selasphorus hummingbirds by call note?


Fall of 2012 has shown a huge invasion of Selasphorus hummingbirds into the northeastern United States. Writing this from Maine, we have had two but Pennsylvania is off the charts: 30+ reports and they keep coming.


Confirmed Rufous Hummingbirds of Fall 2012 - from eBird
The majority of these birds are identified as Rufous Hummingbirds. Banding is necessary for some, but most can be identified with a decent photo of a spread tail. Here is an immature male Rufous Hummingbird I photographed on Monhegan Island, ME on October 5th:


This bird can safely be called a Rufous (rather than Allen's) because of the obvious notch in the tip of R2 (the second tail feather or rectrice from the middle) and also the apparently wide R5 (the outermost tail feather). Perhaps one of the best visual representations I've seen of this is Scott Weidensaul's photo comparing these feathers: http://www.pbase.com/rcm1840/image/120293244

Now what about this bird:


It has been visiting a feeder in Biddeford, ME since October 16th. A larger selection of photos can be seen at: https://www.dropbox.com/sh/vazhbn1wby3l078/kYvPqtMENy
The amount of rufous on the flanks and base of the tail feathers definitely indicates a Selaphorus hummingbird. BUT R1 looks all green, with just a slight black edging near the tip. R2 shows just a little rufous peaking out from under the upper tail coverts but there does appear to be a minor notch. R3-5 have plenty of rufous at the base but at least we can see the width of R5 rules out Allen's.
One very interesting note was that female hummers can show colored feathers on the gorget. (fun fact for this east coast birder) This bird does show two reddish-orange feathers off-center on the gorget but has been identified as a female. While there are good features here for Rufous Hummingbird, most are also in the realm of Broad-tailed Hummingbird, which has never occurred in Maine before.

How else can this bird be identified?

The easy answer would be to band the bird, except the nearest bander we can find with the proper permits lives about 3.5 hours away and is not immediately available.

Throughout my day watching this bird I was able to make several audio recordings on my phone by either holding it up to the perched bird (which was hard to approach) or once leaving my phone near the feeder for 40 minutes (it only came to feed once during that time). And here are the results:

From the yard (listen to it here):
From the feeder:
For comparison:
Here is a (poor) recording of a known Rufous Hummingbird from xeno-canto:
a known female Broad-tailed Hummingbird:
plus a known male Broad-tailed Hummingbird:
It doesn't take long to realize the our bird has a very similar pattern to the Rufous Hummingbird: both showing that two-layered backward J shape, very different from the down-slured shape of the Broad-tailed.

But is this significant? I have two recordings of our bird and could only compare to what is available on xeno-canto; there are no female Rufous recordings there.

I have to say this bird is looking closer to a Rufous than Broad-tailed. Until I hear an expert opinion on audio or we get the bird in the hand, I think it can only be called a Selasphorus sp.

Friday, October 19, 2012

Birds at Large: Military Unit Insignia


While killing some time last week in the Bangor, Maine airport I noticed a wall covered in stickers representing different military units.  There's a large military presence at the Bangor airport: it's often the first or last stop in the US for troops going to or coming from overseas.  I was fascinated with the different unit's insignias.  Here's a wide shot of the wall:

There was a wide variety of insignia styles and images.  They were by turns serious, boastful, funny, irreverent, bawdy, crude, odd and impressive.  Some had funny pop-culture references:


Monday, October 8, 2012

Book Review: An Eternity of Eagles by Stephen J. Bobio


It's a necessity of field guides that they only cover the biological aspects of birds.  Birders want to know which birds are which, and what it means when that one has an eyestripe and that one doesn't, and what it means when that one has a call like this and that one has a call like that.  Reduced to these flat comparisons, though, birders can easily forget the real power and living connections humans can have - used to have? - with birds.

An Eternity of Eagles is not a field guide but a "human history" of eagles.  The book begins with physiology - what we humans have learned about eagles through scientific study - but quickly moves to how humans and eagles have interacted in other fields: art, hunting, folklore.  That feeling we get seeing an eagle float overhead is primal - rooted in mankind's earliest days of wild living.  Bobio's book digs at that feeling, and traces our awe and respect of eagles from early cave drawings through to Native American totem poles, Greek mythology and to the modern symbol of America.

I think birders will benefit from reading this book and remembering that our shared history goes far beyond JJ Audubon or RT Peterson.  After all, despite all our scientific advances, those field guide pages will some day just be just be another set of confusing artifacts sifted through by future archaeologists trying to figure out what our civilization was all about.  [Also, there's a crazy photo of a guy aiming a shotgun at a Golden Eagle from out the door of an airplane.  We're terrible].


An Eternity of Eagles by Stephen J. Bodio is published by Lyons Press and is available here on Amazon

Sunday, October 7, 2012

Birds at Large Update


It's time for a quick Birds at Large update to show a couple ways birds are being used - and misused - in regular culture.  Yes?  OK.

Maine State Lottery card


The Black-capped Chickadee is Maine's state bird.  The state bird!  And this is how they reproduce it?  Gray flanks?  Black back?  Maine - my beloved home state - should be ashamed of itself.  How are folks going to respect a vaunted institution like gambling if they can't get the details right?

Song Sparrow Interrupts Red Sox - Yankees game

This dazed and confused sparrow made headlines this week by showing up on the Yankee Stadium infield and not leaving. Good way to save $2,600, I suppose. Hope the guy's OK. In other baseball news, the Baltimore Orioles - the team I've long trumped as the best bird-related team in pro sports - is in the playoffs for the first time in over a decade. Good luck, Os!

Anti-Audubon Sign on the Outer Banks

There is a big fight on the Outer Banks these days about limiting the use of off-road vehicles on the beaches where they might interfere with nesting birds. This sign I saw on my way back from a Hatteras pelagic is in reference to the conflict.  Classy stuff!

Wednesday, September 19, 2012

Interview with Rosemary Mosco of Bird and Moon Comics


Artists and scientists have something of an uneasy alliance.  Both pursuits find kinship in being frequently maligned by the public for their high-mindedness, but true bonds are hindered by the openness and aloofness that characterize artists, and the density and seriousness that characterize scientists.  To use a completely random an unnecessary analogy, they're like Jackie Chan and Chris Tucker in Rush Hour: perceived opposites forced to join up to compete against larger foes.

Anyway, into this fray comes a peacemaker: Rosemary Mosco.  Rosemary is an artist and she's also a science communicator, someone who, in her words, works to connect people to science through creative communication projects.  Very cool.

Rosemary's comics - which are collected at Bird and Moon -  bridge the gap between biology and art with joy.  She does for biology what XKCD does for math and Hark! A Vagrant does for history: pull out the humorous voice from a field not known for expressing itself with much gusto.  Rosemary agreed to answer a few questions for me about her comics and the gaps between science and art.  (By the way, her brand new "Birding Is My Favorite Video Game" piece is my favorite of all things.)


Did your passions for science and art develop at the same time?  Did you ever feel that you had to choose between the two?

I think I've always been into both science and art. As a kid I liked to learn science facts and then tell them to people (my parents were really patient!). Drawing was just another way to share these facts, and I could do it in a way that made people laugh at the same time.

As I got older, I definitely felt like I had to choose between science and art. When I was starting college I asked my advisor if I could major in both of them, and he looked at me funny and said "Absolutely not". I've always tried to squeeze space for both of them into my schedule, which can be tough at times, but it's always rewarding.


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