The Human Birdwatcher Project Presents: On (Painfully) Defining And Counting Birders

It is well-known that birders care about seeing, listening to, photographing, gleefully petting and (for some) smelling Baird's Sparrows more than any other group of people in the world. The question some birders are asking is...what the hell is a birder anyway? Photographed at Lostwood National Wildlife Refuge, ND.

Recently, cyberwars have been raging over on facebook regarding the true number of birdwatchers that exist in the United States. Cybertears have been shed, the cyberblood has readily flowed...needless to say, cyberfeelings were hurt. Birders seem to not only be unable to agree upon the number of birders out there, they cannot even agree on a definition of a birder. The very fabric of the elite birding community is being ripped to shreds as we speak...a true identity crisis is at hand.

I have always separated birders and birdwatchers; birders being more experienced and addicted, birdwatchers being able to live with themselves if they go a few months without seeing a new or rare bird. For our purposes today, lets lump them and relax enough to use the phrases interchangeably.

Wikipedia simply defines birding/birdwatching as "the observation of birds as a recreational activity", which is true enough, although extremely vague. If someone spends 4 or 5 hours a year doing nothing but looking for birds, does that make them a birder? If you ask me, that's a resounding OH HELL NO. Someone who birds at that level probably experiences birding completely differently than those of us who have been doing it for a while. I'm not passing any judgement, but you and I know this is true. Of course, we all have to start somewhere, but I don't think anybody who has only tried looking at birds a couple of times would comfortably label themselves a birder.

Little known but extremely obvious fact: 99% of Homo sapiens who have knowingly seen a live Curlew Sandpiper in the United States are self-professed birders. Photographed in Imperial Beach, CA.

We here at the Human Birdwatcher Project ("Birders are people too!") have a simple suggestion. I think if we just establish a baseline of bird identification knowledge (a crucial aspect of birding), we can go from there. I would suggest using a number to gauge a person's birderness. Why not say...anyone capable of identifying 30 species of birds can be called (if they consent, of course) a birdwatcher? If you can correctly identify 30 bird species, you've obviously paid attention to birds and spent a fair amount of time with them, even if you do most of your birding on your property or at your bird feeders. I would also argue that unless you are a nonbirding biologist, wildlife rehabber, or exceptionally knowledgeable bird hunter, there are very few people out there who correctly know 30 bird species by sight or sound who do not consider themselves particularly interested in birds. Sure this is a bit of an arbitrary number (should it be 25? Or more like 40?), and some parts of the country have less bird diversity than others...but I think it's a good start.

Vireo Vita looks at the first Gray Kingbird either of of us have ever seen. I don't think she could pass the 30 species number yet, nor would she call herself a birder...but her birding urges are plain for all to see. Photo by Booby Brittany.

Now back to the argument of counting birders....yes, the definition I put forth here is very impractical in terms of being able to look at numbers/demographics and make a count of the birders out there, but no one else has been able to find a very reliable one (aside from looking up American Birding Association members). My only suggestion would be to also look at members of birding email groups and go from there....CALBIRDS, for example (California's state-wide rarity list), has about 2500 members, and if you subtract some of those people (some live out of state, some have subscribed with multiple email addresses, some are likely nonbirders who mistakenly signed up), that is still a solid start for estimating the California birder population. Add that to ABA members who aren't signed up, and the number will climb...but where does the birder counter go from there? Where is the data? EBird?

This brings us to my final point, which is that vast numbers of serious birders do not belong to any birding organization at all. While I have been an ABA and Audubon member, I haven't been one in years...the only birding organization I have pledged my loyalty to is the Global Birder Ranking Scale, and obviously that data is not available to anybody. Many other birders I know are without allegiance to any bird clubs....in fact, I would say that roughly half of my close birdwatching friends do not belong to these organizations...perhaps its a function of youth. Just something the birder pundits should keep in mind when this debate picks up again...a lot of us simply don't show up on the map, so to speak.

What do you think about all this? Think my number 30 definition is bullshit? Were you one of those people watching the flame-sesh on facebook? Let us know in the comments.

The Shorebird With A Heart Of Gold

Gull-billed Terns are no longer as clean cut as they were earlier in the spring. Making babies is rough...at least they aren't going bald yet. Imperial Beach, CA.

How you doing birders? Is everything ok? I hope all you bourboners, bastards and birders are keeping your heads up. Its a mad world out there people. I'm really looking forward to taking up my Perpetual Weekend once again...it keeps me sane. I have tried working year round...I don't know how ya'll do it. Seems like a pretty soulless endeavor. But then again, the world is filled with people who are absolutely terrified to be forced to spend time alone, so I suppose its not so shocking.

Whats new on the California birding front? Not much. A couple pelagic trips went out last weekend and were pretty boring. One got a Red-billed Tropicbird (rare, but not unexpected), but happy birders weren't so happy when the boat broke down for several hours. How embarrassing. A White-eyed Vireo at the Fort Rosecrans National Cemetery arrived at a strange time, and appeared to have been a one day wonder.

Shorebirds continue to make their way down the coast, the best of which is a Little Stint that arrived in Humboldt County yesterday...this is the second in the state this year, and I continue to sacrifice puppies, kittens and small bunnies to the bird gods in hopes that I will be able to pluck one from a flock (with my eyes, not literally) here in San Diego. I'd be happy with a Semipalmated Sandpiper though.

I was able to see the Imperial Beach Curlew Sandpiper one more time this month, and got some considerably better looks at the bird. It's still a bland looking thing, but when it comes to shorebirds you have to get stoked on the subtleties. Here it is communicating telepathically with a dowitcher ("Are you an Asiatic Dowitcher? How the fuck do you get to China from here? I tried to go a few weeks ago but somehow ended up at Sea World. That place is fucked up."). Imperial Beach, CA.

One thing the Curlew Sandpiper did that set it apart from other shorebirds was seek out broken stalks of plants, and then jam its bill down inside of it looking for invertebrate goodness. It did this on the regular...here it is about to take the plunge.

Such a good bird. It should be called the Golden-hearted Sandpiper.

This Willet in summer duds accentuated by a long, flowing, kelp robe, was at Border Field State Park, CA.

We need a token passerine in today's post. This is a Bushtit. They are highly-skilled at fluffing and hate-looks. Famosa Slough, San Diego, CA.

Less well known than fence lizards, Side-blotched Lizards aren't any less common in a lot of habitats in California. I don't know much about their variation in coloration, but I am partial to these turqoise-spotted duders. Border Field State Park, CA.

Pondering Death From Above, aka Gull-billed Terns. Gull-bills love eating these things.

This is what a monstrosity looks like. If it could make noise, it would sound like "blllllleeeeennnngghhhhhh. BLLLLLEEEENNNNGUH. BIGLENGUHHHHH".

This monstrous dead crab washed ashore at Imperial Beach, CA. Nerds of the marine persuasion, feel free to tell us what this is.

Heermann's Gulls are a fixture along west coast shores for much of the year, making amateur seawatchers think they're seeing jaegers from Mexico to British Columbia. When they look like this, it's hard to confuse them with anything else though. Border Field State Park, CA.

The Prophecy Has Been Fulfilled

This juvenile Green Heron is going really, really fast. Lindo Lake, Lakeside, CA.

I've been residing here in the whale's vagina for almost three months. What do I have to show for it? Well, besides some money and good experience from slaving in the bird mines, I've been exposed to Yellow-crowned Night-Herons, Reddish Egrets, Prothonotary Warbler, Baltimore Oriole, Thick-billed Kingbird, Gray Vireos, Calliope Hummingbirds, South Polar Skuas....and now, a bird that I am positive appeared simply because I willed it.

The bird I speak of, of course, is none other than a Curlew Sandpiper. Curlew Sandpipers are extremely rare in California, averaging one a year or less, and the one and only I saw was so long ago I feel lucky to even remember it. I was recently reflecting on how fulfilling it would be to see another one, especially since one showed up here last fall (I was in North Dakota at the time). Thus, by dwelling on said bird, *POP*, a Curlew Sandpiper appeared on the mudflats of Imperial Beach.

Now when I say I willed the bird into existence, I'm not saying I deluded myself into thinking I found such a heart-stopping rarity...this was no Sanderling through a mirage. I have to credit a certain highly worshiped birder whose name rhymes with "Raul Palin" for locating the bird, and for that I am in his debt.

So there we go. Curlew Sandpiper automatically wins Bird Of The Month here at BB&B, and for those of you who have not had the good fortune of seeing a Curlew Sandpiper yet....well yes, you are an unfortunate lot, aren't you? But don't foresake hope...you may never lay eyes on a wild Spoonbill Sandpiper, but a Curlew Sandpiper is in your future...I HAVE WILLED IT.

A muddy-billed Gull-billed Tern. Imperial Beach, CA.

You can tell this is a quality bird by the exceptional lack of quality in the photo. It is the quintessential rarity shot. Curlew Sandpiper, Imperial Beach.

Here it is dwarfing a Western Sandpiper. I was crying when this photo was taken. So rare.

Here's a just-fledged Black-crowned Night-Heron. It makes me think of an Antpitta for some reason. Maybe if I had actually seen an Antpitta, I would know better. Imperial Beach Sports Park.

A recent addition to the nesting Black-crowned and Yellow-crowned Night-Herons at the sports park are Snowy Egrets. They got started a lot later than the Night-Herons it seems, but they already have humungo chicks.

A Black-necked Stilt plies the murky and questionable waters of Lindo Lake.

Hella photogenic.

I remember the first Great-tailed Grackle I found, which I believe was at Clark's Bird Refuge in Santa Barbara. To me, it was a big deal, and was actually semi-rare at the time. Now seeing them is not a big deal at all, but I still have fondness for them. This female Great-tailed Grackle lurked in the murk and muck of Lindo Lake.

San Diego just doesn't make sense to a lot of birders....we have such a bizarre avian community. Where else on the west coast do you see Curlew Sandpiper and Gull-billed Tern at the same time?