Feb 04 2009
Before the Spark
So many birderwatchers can name, without a moment’s hesitation, the bird that turned them into a birder, their encounter with it leaving them forever changed in a kind of ornithological epiphany, or birding conversion experience. Like converts of all sorts, the vast majority of birders delight in telling their personal story–the story of their spark bird.
I have a spark bird, too–Pine Siskin. It was sometime early in 1977, February, I think. I was sitting in the rec room at our house, which at that date was still appointed with amazing, inch-high neon orange shag carpet. I was looking at the birds visiting our feeders, something I’d been doing in a casual way for years. Enough years that I fancied myself pretty well-informed about what was what. I knew House Finches, towhees, nuthatches, and so on. And of course I knew goldfinches. I knew they were yellow in the spring and duller in the fall and that the females were heavily streaked below. That day, for reasons I don’t remember, I had turned to the finch page in our Golden Guide when–BOOM!–it hit me: those streaky little guys weren’t female goldfinches, they were something entirely different. Pine Siskins. How long had they been right under my nose, but not in my consciousness? The sense of discovery was absolutely electric. In that moment, I became a birder.
No, this isn’t THE Pine Siskin, but perhaps it’s a great great great great grandchild.
It’s amazing how transformative an experience like this can be. Recently, I came across a photo of me taken just a year and a half after that siskin. I don’t remember the exact day, but it certainly looks like the Delaware Bayshore, perhaps at Cape Henlopen or Prime Hook. I’m 14 and have just started 9th grade. You can see I’ve already browbeaten my parents into getting me a spotting scope and tripod and man, I am off to the races. All directly traceable to 15 grams of siskin.
The dude abides
But that Pine Siskin, by itself, might not have made a dent. Many sparks fly, but only a few catch. To overextend the analogy, in the winter of 1977, I had a huge build-up of fuel just waiting to ignite. In 1976, I had been lucky to make two amazing trips with the Delaware Nature Society. In April, I went to Okefenokee Swamp in Georgia. Then, over Christmas vacation I went to Everglades National Park in Florida. The Georgia trip served to ramp up my virtually lifelong interest in nature. I paid attention to birds, especially trying to photograph them, at that time a brand-new interest of mine. But in Okefenokee, I was still very much a generalist and even a little bird-phobic, if the truth be told. I just found birds to be too frustrating. Too small, too fast, too far away.
A male Anhinga in near peak breeding condition
Florida changed all that. There, along the Anhinga Trail, I could see birds up close, photograph them, study them, look them up in the book. I got the first glimmer that I might be able to make headway in a heretofore vexing world. Purple Gallinules, Common Moorhens (which we called Florida Gallinules at the time), Limpkins, Soras–it was amazing.
And perhaps even more eye-popping was Mrazek Pond, a tiny, mangrove-lined puddle that seemed to be about one third water, one third fish and one third birds. Mrazek, even then, wasn’t always crowded with birds. But in December of 1976, it was packed with egrets, ibis, Wood Storks, pelicans, and most of all, Roseate Spoonbills.
Roseate Spoonbills, Snowy Egrets, and a White Ibis jockey for position
Not only were these birds incredibly beautiful, they were incredibly unconcerned with people–they just went about their fishing with almost no concern for me or the dozens of park visitors standing slack-jawed just a few feet away. With experiences like this under my belt, I was primed for the siskin that I would see just a few weeks later.
I’m pleased to say that 32 years later, though much of the Sunshine State has been paved over or otherwise environmentally compromised, one can still see sights very similar to those I saw in Florida, as the photos above attest. That Anhinga was photographed at Viera Wetlands near Melbourne, Florida, while the spoonbills, egrets and ibis are from Merritt Island National Wildlife Refuge. Both images were taken during last week’s Space Coast Birding & Wildlife Festival, where I was invited to speak and to lead field trips.
A Green Heron at Green Cay Wetlands
There are even a few things that have improved over the last three decades for birds and birders. Not only festivals like Space Coast, but even the birding areas themselves. Viera Wetlands, Wakodahatchee Wetlands and Green Cay Wetlands, three prime Florida birding spots, were all recenty created from the ground up as places friendly to birds and birders, reclaiming land that was being used in ways that welcomed neither. Below, Liz poses on the boardwalk at Green Cay, where our friend Eva, who blogs at The Flying Mullet, is the naturalist.
Liz at Green Cay, with Moorhens in the back left
It’s really an amazing thing, as someone whose life has been so bound up with birds and birding, to go back to Florida and be present when others first see the light. Or at least get primed to catch that spark.
Finally, I’d be completely remiss if I didn’t mention that I wouldn’t have had those bird feeders, or those trips down south, or in all likelihood my interest in nature at all if it weren’t for my mother, Kathleen. From the time I could walk, she had me outside, often tagging along with the older kids for whom she taught programs at the Delaware Nature Education Center, which has now become the Delaware Nature Society. Below is a photo I took of her in April of 1977, at Craven’s Hammock in Okefenokee National Wildlife Refuge (I first went in 1976–I went back something like the next 10 years in a row, eventually becoming one of the leaders myself). She was one of the leaders on that trip, along with David Brown, seen here doing his best moonshiner imitation. It’s just 3 months after my siskin-spark and she looks like she may well be having second thoughts about fostering her son’s interest in nature. She may be still, but I hope not too often. Thanks, Mom!
Mom & David Brown in Okefenokee, 1977
Here are a couple of additional spark bird resources. Bird Watcher’s Digest has a Spark Bird Blog that features occasional posts by some of their contributors detailing their avian turning points. Also, if you’re a relatively new reader of this blog, you might enjoy seeing this short slide show I put together during the Cape May Autumn Weekend in late October of 2007. It features a number of birders, some well-known, some less so, telling their spark bird stories. What’s yours?
Awesome post. The David Brown photo is priceless. He looks like he belongs down there with a fiddle.
Great post! Brings back memories.
Great post, Jeff, and absolutely stunning photos as always. I’ve gotta say that Green Heron shot is the best of all, and just moved that heron to the top of my “I wanna see” list.
I loved the spark story. My spark bird was actually a cattle egret. I remember the first time I noticed the buff patches on their chest and back, and went to look them up. We had always called them “cow birds” before, and by the I finally tracked down their true identity and started reading up on them a little, I was hooked. (And then I got my first digital SLR camera last year, and that “hooked” became a driving force!)
Did you browbeat your folks into buying you those socks too?
Great post and stellar photos.
What a joy to read. The video of spark stories is delightful!
I agree, a joy to read! Your photos are always stunning.
My interest in birds didn’t really peak until I became acquainted with a Great Blue Heron who began having meals at my backyard pond in Maryland, back in the mid-90s. I bought a pocket-sized field guide to learn more about that wonderful bird.
Dude! Great post. And as for that Jeff Gordon, Young Birder photo—let me just say that I LOVED you as Paulie Bleeker, the love interest in the movie Juno!
This isn’t a post, it’s a multimedia extravaganza. What a lovely production your video is. Bill got me out of bed this morning by telling me about the teenage Gyr. It was worth it. You’re all there, in the stance, the eyes, the smile, even the tube socks. Dee-lightful!
oh, and your mom is hot.
What an enjoyable post! My spark bird was probably a blue jay in California that was interested in some nuts I was feeding to the squirrels.
Beautiful presentation, Jeff!
I don’t know if I had a “spark” bird. I just knew I was fascinated by them ever since I was a child.
It was my pleasure — and still is.
Love, Mom
Great post! As you know I can relate to your experience as my spark occurred on an Okefenokee Swamp trip. Also, as you know my spark bird was a Chuck-Wills-Widow, a bird that you found for me in the pine woods of Little PeeDee state park. My “ignition” bird, also observed with you, was a Swallow-tailed Kite soaring over Billy’s Lake in Okee. Although these birds opened my eyes, it was you that hooked me on birding. Your enthusiasm, knowledge and friendship insured that birding would always be a big part of my life.
Wow, wow, wow–
I can’t thank you all enough for your kind words. I’m so glad that various aspects of this post amused and/or entertained you. And perhaps brought back some nice memories.
Yes, Julie, my Mom is hot–always was.
As for those sweat socks, well, it was the 70’s. My friend Brad wore them and he played basketball and wasn’t a virgin. In retrospect, maybe I should have copied the basketball and not the footwear.
Thanks again, all.
Oh my goodness, you still stand that way!
Great post, as usual!
Sweet post, Jeff. And don’t sweat those sweat socks. This may not make you feel any better but there are plenty of old photos around where I’m rocking the same look. That was the style back then, or at least I thought it was.
Thats true, I had never thought of it. there’s always a moment, when you go from hey nice bird, to let-me-take-a-closer look or what-is-it? For me, living in a city, its been a revelation as to how much there is right under my nose, or a few kms away!
And oh, I finally see what Mike (Bergin) looks like!!
Mike Bergin is MUCH cuter than that, Flowergirl. He was in mid-speak in that picture, methinks.
I really enjoyed this post and it’s got me thinking about what were my spark birds. I hadn’t thought about the fact that a spark bird could be encountered even after years of being a birder.
The photos are priceless.
Thanks!
Beautiful photos and an excellent article. Brings back some fond memories.
I like the way you come to my defense, Julie. But what photo are you referring to? I’m lost!
Was the Okefenokee trip an E. Paul Catts(U of D.) trip that so many Entomology/Applied Ecology majors took back in the late sixties/seventies?
Funny,although I am not an avid,participating birder, the Evening Grosbeak is a bird that sparked my interest ,in general,when ,as a 10 year old , digging for fishing worms,discovered a broken winged Grosbeak that I brought home and tried to rehabilitate. My dad ID’d the bird for me and I have had an interest ever since. Thanks for a beautiful post.
One of the most interesting posts I have ever read Jeff! The photos, the story, the film, just super!
My favorite photos (other than you at the ripe old age of 14) are the Anhinga and the Green Heron. The film, priceless.
My spark bird would have to be the Burrowing Owl my wife and I would see on our way home from town, standing in the middle of our long, dirt road. With the car lights shining on the little guy, we studied it long enough so that when we got in the house we could look it up in our “Harper & Rowe’s Complete Field Guide to North American Wildlife.” We had just moved out to the country and began seeing the world in a whole new light.
I hope to bring those little Burrowing Owls back to my home soon.