The Observation of Yard Birds

Most birders like to keep some track of the birds they see. Usually, it is a list with dates and places. I once wrote the names and numbers of my first neighborhood sightings down in a ledger in pencil. There is still a stack of these ledger books recording not only the encounters with birds, but my growing knowledge of their movements.

How interested you are in recording the birds you see is a clear indication of how active a birder you will become. Some people will start and end with a simple list of birds they see in their yard each day or year. For others this endeavor will become an official lifetime yardlist, and will be only one of many such totals.

The first time you see a species in your yard, it becomes a life yardbird. A friend quizzed a group of us the other day about such a bird, which he heard briefly in his wooded neighborhood. After quite a few hints it turned out to be a bluebird, which is expected at any house surrounded by fields, but hard to find in the woods.

Helen Bates always kept a list of birds seen in her yard every day, written down as they were seen. There is something special about a hand-written journal that you can leaf through years after, comparing how things change from month to month or year to year.

I was surprised the other day to find my first ever northern waterthrush in the yard. About the same time a friend reported a Canada warbler in the bushes of her suburban backyard. Both of these species are the wildest of birds, found respectively in bogs and swamps, or the thickest part of a heavily wooded mountainside.

A concerned homeowner called about a great blue heron taking up residence in her yard, far from any pond or river. It was not feeding, huddled quietly in a hidden corner. It did not fly away when approached closely, and was clearly injured or sick.

The heron is not the ideal yard guest. It stands as tall as a man and at the end of a long, striking neck is a huge heavy bill that could injure seriously. If a healthy one comes into the yard with a pond and raids the goldfish, you can either admire its statuesque beauty from a distance, or chase it away.

I just heard the dreaded voice of the great blue heron early on a foggy morning as it flew behind the house. The deep throaty croak is like no other noise, more menacing than growls or screams. If you did not know what it was, you would be a little wary of what creature might suddenly appear out of the fog.

More often you may hear the higher pitched call of the green heron, a bird you will likely only notice as it flies over the house. This bird is the size of a crow, more compact than the ponderous, gangly great blue, and is much less alien looking. It beats straight and true from one hidden pond to another, the terror of tadpoles.

Another strange yardbird you might see hanging about is a homing pigeon. These are not wild birds, but lost from some fancier's flock. Often hundreds of these doves are kept in huge coops and then transported afar and released, to see how well they live up to their name. A bird that does not home in is probably not missed or wanted, so the best thing to do is ignore such a waif.

The yardbird that is most welcome of all is the wild one that becomes domestic right before your eyes. Someday you may catch a robin as it enters a low tree or bush over and over again. The new nest may be open to your prying eyes, and you can watch the care and precision with which it is finished.

The eggs will be laid one by one, shiningly perfect. The bird will snuggle and sit, the very picture of patience. The young will peck and struggle and squirm from their tiny prison, and then lie still like balls of down and fluff. The parent will approach and mouths will gape wide enough to swallow the world. Yes, the wild yardbird is something worth watching, and then entering into your list.