The Human Birdwatcher Project Presents: Big Year Fatigue

This Buller's Shearwater was photographed in 2012, off Half Moon Bay, CA. We had a great many of them that day, which I don't think has happened in a few years here. My YOHOMBSLBFTINFOLF is currently without this species.

For some reason, rabid county listing in all 58 of California counties sounds inane and empty to me. No offense, just being honest. Why anyone would want to drive hours to chase a locally uncommon bird in Amador instead of putting that time and money towards a trip to a Nome or a Oaxaca or a Cuba or a Ecuador is beyond me. I do not care if you have seen Surf Scoter in 20 inland counties, especially if none of those birds were self-found.

I have never been one to really bash county listing or any other kind of listing though. As far as I know, no one appreciates day birds and trip birds more than me. I list the hell out of things, but year birds...I can really get behind year birds. Doesn't it seem like a good idea to try and see a species once a year? It is, I assure you. I love yearbirding, even though the last time I did any sort of big year was almost 20 years ago. I set the Ventura County big year record back when I was still a minor (which was subsequently demolished the next year), so I've got a little bit of history with this.

Yearbirding, of course, goes hand in hand with full-fledged big years, and in the U.S. you can't talk about big years without bringing up ABA big years. The Great Ornithologist Felonious Jive and I were talking about this very thing the other day, and Felonious had some interesting thoughts on the subject. I suggested that he put a post up, and this is what he had to say. Remember, if you finish this post fuming and butthurt, please direct all animosity toward Felonious. - Seagull Steve

With 2016 now well in the rearview, what has also passed in birding circles is the constant chatter of what the 4 ABA big year birders were doing last year. To cut to the chase...it is somehow a relief to not be hearing about so and so flying from Alaska to Florida and back to Alaska to get a few ticks, and to not read some sort of rubbish about it being some mystical, spiritual journey. I know that I'm not the only one who has lost my appetite for this sort of thing. I've never been one to get very excited about ABA big years, but they always seemed interesting to some degree. However, by the end of 2016, I was over it entirely. I had Big Year Fatigue.

In 2013 I found myself crushing this Black-capped Flycatcher in Costa Rica's Talamancas. I can rest assured that I will not see one of these for my YOHOMBSLBFTINFOLF that I'm doing this year.

I don't care what anyone's ABA list is, be it one put together in a year or within a lifetime. Those who have really high ABA lists generally have access to wealth, or are tour guides, or both. Sure, if you have 800+ species I am going to be envious of some of your experiences, but it's not like I equate one's list size with happiness. I could actually argue that the inverse of this is true...but that is for another time.

In 2016 I found myself going back to the same topics repeatedly whenever big years came up in conversation, and Seagull Steve thought it was time I shared them with a wider audience. I present them to you now, not as birding gospel but merely birding food for birding thought.

Conservation: Birding in all its forms is great, but conservation is more important. Without conservation, there is no birding, only evil and Rock Pigeons. Personally, if I was going to spend a whole year and a great deal of money birding and burning gas, I couldn't do it without some kind of conservation tie-in. Most big year birders don't do this, though I know at least one ABA yearbirder put his money where his mouth was last year. I respect that. In other cases, it seems like conservation was given lip service and nothing more. Conversation is great, but it's not the same thing as conservation.

Time: A Big Year on an ABA level, or in a big birdy state like California, requires you to be birding constantly. There are very few stretches that are not conducive to adding birds that you might not see again for the rest of the year. It's essentially a full-time job when you figure in the absurd amount of travel time it is necessary to put in, so you have to be in the envious position of being retired or unemployed, or have a job that will let you take a lot of leave for an entire year yet somehow pays well enough to finance this absurd pursuit. Most of us aren't lucky enough to have this kind of time, which is one reason why I find really ambitious big years somewhat difficult to relate to.

White-tailed Hawks were nice to see on the regular back in 2014. Though my YOHOMBSLBFTINFOLF features a modest number of hawks, this hawk is not included. Photographed in McCook, Hidalgo County, Texas.

$$$: Money is a huge factor in big years. It's a lot like politics...the more money you have to spend, the more likely it is you will have success. Think about it...for the typical ABA Big Year, you are taking dozens of flights, with destinations from Gambell to Miami, St. Johns to San Diego. The costs of flights, lodging, tours, gas, rentals must be astronomical. Even if you are doing a Big Year on a state level, you are putting a great number of miles on your car...the costs of constant frantic birding can add up in a big way, no matter what the scale. A large pool of disposal income, another thing most of us do not have access to, is highly conducive to the kind of success you can achieve, though obviously not everyone who does a big year drops in on a rarity with a golden parachute and silver spoon in hand.

Social constraints: Some birders exist in a vacuum...no sick relative to help, no significant other, no close friends nearby that would be missed. No children to raise, or they are already grown and out of the house. Some people never find themselves in a position to do a big year, even if they have the time and money. The big year birder is either very fortunate in this regard, or they have little regard for other people (a common trait in birders).

In 2015, I picked up this nice male Yellow-bellied Sapsucker early in the year. No such luck for my ongoing YOHOMBSLBFTINFOLF. Photographed at Casto Valley Regional Park, Castro Valley, CA.

Reputation: If you are going to do a serious big year, whether it be in a single county or for the entire planet, you want to have the respect of your peers. You are probably trying to set some kind of record, after all. If that is the case, you should be a good birder. I don't think that is a controversial thing to say, but there are not many people out there saying it in public...but hey, that's what BB&B is here for, right? Right. There are records and all involved here that a lot of folks actually take seriously and for this reason, stringers should not be doing big years. However, with the Dunning-Kruger effect in play, we can't exactly expect birders to be policing themselves in this matter. It is also preferable that when you are using tour guides (inevitable in a ABA big year) that you can actually identify the birds that the guides are showing you. Just because your guide saw that Willow Warbler well doesn't mean you can automatically count it. Well you totally can, but in case no one has told you yet, that is really lame.

Hype: We heard about 2016's ABA big year birders constantly from both interested folks and from some of the birders themselves, who varied in their self-promotional habits between seemingly doing none at all (a breath of fresh air) to constantly making themselves as visible as possible online. It's true that if you portray yourself as a big deal that some people will actually believe you...just look at Seagull Steve, the #7 birder in the United States. He would know.

As I said, big year birders are highly variable in the amount of attention they want to draw to themselves...it would not be fair of me at all to try to make any sweeping generalizations about that. I mean, compare the press of Noah Strycker's world big year with Arjan Dwarshuis'. Do you even know who Arjan is? If not, that illustrates my point perfectly...he saw hundreds more species than Noah did in 2016, completely demolishing Noah's impressive record set the year before. Yet there was almost no buzz around what Arjan was doing, at least not in 'murica. So you can go about your business like Arjan did, or have people create buzz for you like Noah did, or you can really make it about yourself and pull some Swallowgate tactics. I think I prefer the under the radar style, but maybe relentless attempts for attention are more your thing.

The book: Many a big year birder has gone on to write a book. This is now about as predictable as Sanderlings flying north in spring and south in fall. While everyone always welcomes a Sanderling when it arrives, the same cannot be said about another big year book. It's a cliché, let's be honest. I'm not saying that all these books are terrible or even bad at all, but it seems like behind almost every big year is a book being written. How many more of these books, which by necessity have the exact same plot, will be written? Of course, many speaking engagements will be planned as well....there's no publicity for a birder like a big year.

I've seen a modest number of green birds, and Mexican Parrotlet is by far the most leaf-like. There are two of them in this photo, you know. I have not yet seen this species for the current YOHOMBSLBFTINFOLF. Photographed in 2016 at Lower Singayta, Nayarit, Mexico.

The big year modifier: Speaking of clichés...as a leading tastemaker in birding, I officially am announcing that the phrase "little big year" has been a tired and uninteresting cliché for a long time, a long time. Just like I put an end to the phrase "Birds have wings. They use them.", it is now time that we put little big years on the proverbial shelf for a couple decades so some of their freshness may be restored. Consider some alternatives, such as shitty big year, fake big year, regular year, modest big year, kinda large year, swollen but not uncomfortably so year, or call it what it usually is...YOHOMBSLBFTINFOLF (Year Of Hopefully Observing Many Bird Species Locally Because Frequent Travel Is Not Financially Or Logistically Feasible).

I do have one resoundingly positive thing to say about the 2016 ABA big years though - the big year deathmarch did have one unique aspect to it. It was not a well-kept secret that the big year birders were not one big happy family, which two of them acknowledged repeatedly on their respective blogs. BB&B, being who we are, fully endorses this. Fear and loathing? Allegations of stringing? Bitter birding rivalries? Where?! Point the way! While some leading birders attempt to portray birdwatchers as one big happy family, BB&B has no such illusions. That's why you are here now. So thanks, 2016 ABA yearbirders, for keeping it real.

Black-legged Kittiwake was a bird I didn't get to see last year, but luckily they were readily available to gobble up for this year's YOHOMBSLBFTINFOLF! Photographed earlier this year at the Pilarcitos Creek mouth, Half Moon Bay, CA.

No need to go on forever about this, I've said my piece. I'm not against big years, I just am not really excited about them anymore, at least on the scale of the ABA Area. Perhaps there are more interesting things to be excited about, no need to get offended. Maybe the fatigue will wear off. At least there is one thing about big years we can all agree on...despite the crazy-good cast, The Big Year was a major disappointment. It sure gave birding a lot of publicity though!

Pooped Out of Texas...Catharus PTSD...The Imminent Hangover

Sabal Palm Sanctuary is the place to go in the valley for Least Grebe this summer. They are easy to see at close/crushable range, and word has it they are nesting as well. The only other places I picked up this ghastly grayling on this trip were Pollywog Pond (Corpus Christi) and Ester Llano Grande (Pharr).

Hello admirers, friends, frenemies, and lurking trolls...I thought it would be prudent to give a quick update from The Road. Suddenly I find myself at the ass end of another field season. I have been pooped out of the bowels of the Lower Rio Grande Valley into the great big toilet of the American West. My exit featured a bird-heavy (and occasionally whiskey-soaked) route from Austin through southeast Arizona, and now I find myself with old friends in Flagstaff. Good birds have abounded this spring, and I am lucky to have survived another productive season without slipping rank in Global Birder Ranking System. I bask in the light of the smiling gods of birding...there is nothing like it.

Except, perhaps, good whiskey.

It was great to see so many Stilt Sandpiper this spring. Crisp breeding plumage birds lie somewhere on the spectrum between Economy of Style and Facemelt. Their appeal does exactly rip your eyes out, but you don't have to look very hard to see it either. They are captivating, in fact. I must find a name for this zone of appearance/appeal. Oh, that's a Lesser Yellowlegs on the right, if you were wondering. Estero Llano Grande WBC, TX.

How about another "Valley Specialty"? Here is a White-tailed Hawk. I had a lot of fun trying to separate these from Swainson's Hawks at great distance, while soaring. My findings? It's not always easy, but at least GBRS gave me some points for the effort. Hidalgo County, TX.

Warblers, like this confiding Blackpoll, really stole the show for me this spring. I never did get the Swainson's I was looking for, but I don't mind needing an excuse to get back to the Gulf Coast in spring! Fuck! South Padre Island, TX.

Gray-cheeked Thrush was a bird I was happy to get to see more of in April and May. Catharus are a bitch, huh? For weeks I had to sit back and watch birders absolutely slaughter the identification of thrushes, left and right. I think having to see so many blown calls gave me some kind of PTSD. South Padre Island, TX.

This Groove-billed Ani was an ABA bird for me. In fact, it was the only one I recorded while I was down there, which is unusual because they are actually fairly common by now. Birding is weird. The ani was sunning itself, shortly after sunrise, in a roadside mesquite. Hidalgo County, TX.

Let's tie it all up with a Least Tern, a bird of Texas and a bird of California, which is where I will be seeing my next one. More coverage from Texas (and southeast Arizona) coming up soon. Such good birding the past few months! A birding hangover is imminent. Photographed at South Padre Island, TX.

The $$$ Bird, Green Pie, A Dripping Warbler

Green Jay. This is a real $$$ bird...this is one of the reasons birders come here to spawn...er, birdwatch. This is why there are so many World Birding Centers. Is there anything quite like a Green Jay? Sabal Palm Sanctuary, Brownsville.

I fear for myself this spring. The birding here can just be so good...how will I settle for anything less? Being based in the Lower Rio Grande Valley (less than an hour to South Padre Island, less than an hour to Santa Ana National Wildlife Refuge), I've been exposed to a lot in the past three weeks. Migration is on, without a doubt...the first wave of warblers, flycatchers, raptors and shorebirds has washed over south Texas...I think it's safe to say that this corner of country pops out of the March Doldrums earlier than most places, which is very good for my mental health.

I see these birds on the reg, but have yet to fully come to terms with them. If there was some intermediate looking relative between Green Jay and Blue Jay (Teal Jay? Aquamarine Jay?) it would make sense, but we lack the avian context.

With each passing weekend I've been able to get a better grasp on the birding scene here, which generally involves a lot of time on eBird, Texbirds (although that's more useful for watching birder drama), and checking a couple relevant blogs before heading out and using my #7 powers to lay waste to any birds that have the misfortune of being in the area...never before have they been observed, listened to, and precisely identified with such speed and mastery. Things will never be the same.

There still hasn't been a bird I've felt the urge to chase yet, which I find baffling, but that has not instilled any sense of apathy in me. Spring migration with both trans-gulf and circum-gulf migrants coming through is really motivating to get out and bird with no abandon.

Right. Here are some more recent birds to ponder.

Red-crowned Parrots...another slice of the avian green pie down here. Aside from the local population (and the 100% exotic population in California) Red-crowned Parrot is a declining Mexican endemic, with a small range in the northeastern part of the country. It has been suggested that some of the birds here are Mexican natives (in other words, not escaped caged birds or their progeny), although it is impossible to prove one way or the other. Photographed at Mont Meta Cemetery.



I haven't visited any of the big parrot roosts yet, I just happen to see these things once in a while during normal birding outings. If you are not completely deaf, their raucous calls are hard to ignore if the birds are in the area. If you are completely deaf...then I apologize.

Black-crested Titmouse is one of the least sought-after valley specialties. No one plots a trip here salivating over the thought of point-blank views of BCTI, but that has not prevented me from growing fond of them. They are a common bird in native woodland habitats and often form the backbone of mixed flocks. Photographed at Laguna Atascosa National Wildlife Refuge.

Some people like to think that their puppy is cute, their kitten is adorable, or their baby is to die for. I think we can all agree this titmouse is taking to whole concept of "cute"to a whole new level.

Northern Parula is a common early migrant here, and they provide a much-needed respite from the Yellow-rumped and Orange-crowned Warbler scene. Oh, and if you have ever heard the line "warblers were dripping off the trees", I offer you this photo of a warbler dripping off a tree.

Northern Parulas rank fairly high on the crippling scale. I find the breast pattern mesmerizing (as I find many breast patterns).

Seriously though, this is a nice bird to get to see regularly. I suspect you easterners take them for granted, to your detriment. Photographed at Laguna Atascosa.

White-tipped Doves are pretty common here...this is the best I could do in the crush department so far. They are easy to find at feeding stations but getting them to sit still is rough. I like the purple spectacles these doves use to see through. Photographed at Sabal Palm.

White-tailed Hawks ply the skies here year-round. With their long wings, sharp head pattern, contrasting underwing and short tails, they look like the perfect cross between Short-tailed and Swainson's Hawks. Photographed east of Brownsville, TX.

Eastern Phoebe is not a bird that will leave the observer broken on the ground and twitching once eye contact is made, but people have strong feelings about them. It's an amicable bird. It is a birder's bird, and so it is only natural that I sponsor this practitioner of The Economy of Style. Santa Ana National Wildlife Refuge.

Scissor-tailed Flycatcher (one of the world's greatest birds) are saturating the valley right now. It's difficult to not see one once you get out of the city. I have lost track of the number of these I've agonizingly had to drive past when I didn't have a camera or couldn't pull over. If Green Jay is an improbable bird, then Scissor-tailed Flycatcher borders on an impossibility, although sadly I can't back up that statement with the right photo...yet. Photographed west of Laguna Atascosa.