So Many, So Close

Some of the most rewarding journeys don't take us far from home.

Yesterday, I sighted a willow flycatcher. It was about 200 yards from my house, and it was my 70th bird species of the year.

Under normal circumstances, that number probably wouldn't be a big deal. In fact, it might have even disappointed me. After all, last year, I sighted my 70th bird on April 30, and by June 4, 2019, I had logged 98 species.

A Wilson's warbler, one of my reliable locals.

The COVID-19 coronavirus changed things this year though. With social distancing restrictions and the cancelation of group-birding events, my focus shifted to local birds. Those 70 species have all been sighted within a four-mile radius.

I have found different kinds of satisfaction in my 2020 approach to birding. First, it is relaxing to let the birds come to me. Second, some unexpected sightings (like a northern saw-whet owl and a hermit warbler) sparkled with additional specialness. Third, growing my species list with such constraints became at least as fun as the usual challenge of going out and finding as many species as possible. Finally, the local focus has helped increase my sense of home and place. All of the species I have seen this year are ones I've seen in the past. They are familiar faces because most are frequent visitors, so they help give my immediate area its character. Constraining my birding boundaries helps clarify what birds I can expect here, and in turn, those birds better define what home is. That's a very nice result.

Understanding home and our place in the world is a journey in and of itself.

A Big Leap Day

What's one more day? This year, it means February sightings of violet-green swallows and a northern saw-whet owl.

If this had been a normal year, my last February addition to my yearly birding list would have been a pine siskin on February 27. Not too bad. Pine siskins are an understated bird with a fun song and a flash of color for those who look closely enough. This being a leap year though, last month ended in an unusually spectacular fashion.

A violet-green sighting in February would have been enough to merit recognition for February 29, 2020. I was shocked to see the birds on my jog. They were two weeks earlier than I have ever seen their species before. That alone made the day a major birding moment. It even seemed fitting because earlier in the month, I marked the very rare universal calendar palindrome of 02//02/2020 with an addition to my yearly birding list. That day, I saw a big group of bushtits (also on my jog), forever commemorating a calendar event that hadn't happened in more than 900 years.

A northern saw-whet owl I sighted in June 2014.

Leap day apparently wanted to make sure it went down in history too though. Sitting at my desk around 9:30 p.m., I heard a long series of low "too" sounds like a faraway, old train whistle. At first, I thought it came from some alarm, machine, or device in the distance. After considering it a while longer, I thought it might be a northern saw-whet owl, so I went outside and tried to call it in with recorded saw-whet sounds from the Cornell Lab of Ornithology. Within a few minutes, an owl flew over my head, eventually landing in a tree in the yard. It was my first sighting of the species since 2014. While watching the bird in the yard, I also heard another farther away. What an exhilarating end to an unusual month!

February 2020 certainly made its extra day count for a lot on my birding list.