I am not a chaser. I’m just not. I do not drop everything and drive for hours just to see one bird. However—and here it comes—I have gone out of my way to find a life bird. A life bird is one I’ve not seen or counted before.
I tell myself I deserve birds. For no reason other than I enjoy observing and watching them. And let it be said that ebird (ebird.org), has made chasing lifers easy.
Like many, my love of birds comes from a childhood feeder. We lived in a rented house in a swampy area and my parents put up a feeder. Mourning doves came. Their mournful cry was a fine metaphor for our life in that creaky old house. And, there were childhood bird kits. You assembled and painted a bird. I choose a goldfinch, one of the first birds I recognized.
Years later, I took two overnight bird trips in Florida with other members of the the Caloosa Bird Club of Ft Myers. The first, to Merritt Island was across the state, with a wayward mountain bluebird midway. In search of this bird, we found lovely countryside, with hills and barbed wire fences and farms. We arrived at the designated spot, and there sat the bird on a wire where previous observers had seen it. In a wonderful twist, it had been spotted and photographed by an ebirder between two red-painted telephone poles, one of which vertically spelled out “love” and the adjacent one “you.” And there sat the bird. How cool is that?
On the second trip, there was a Vaux (rhymes with whoa) swift aloft in the sky over Gainsville. Yet another bird far from it’s home in the west. A swift is a great aerialist, and it eats bugs on the wing all day. You might have seen chimney swifts, or even heard them because they chatter as they fly. Birders call swifts flying cigars because of their shape. I am not responsible for what birders call things.
The Vaux is resident in a chimney on the campus of the University of Florida. It’s a beautiful chimney, double and very old-looking. Every night, according to ebird, the bird appears and flies into the east tower, always between 6 and 6:30 pm. We arrived early and were instructed by natives, “Never take your eyes off the top of the chimney.” Photographers with large lenses stood at the ready.
Speaking personally, I found it hard to stare at a chimney for a long period of time. But stare we did, and in a split second at 6:11 the bird zoomed in. I saw the rear end and one wing as it plunged into the chimney. I must admit it was probably the most fun I’ve had waiting for a life bird, even if the photographers were disappointed.
(Note: this bird was a long-standing resident, identified by birders at least five years ago when there was more than five Vaux and someone recorded the sounds they made.)
But I’m counting that little guy. I’m at 523 life birds in case anyone is interested. And it’s all good.
Floridawoman 