October Big Day

Birds had stopped singing a few weeks ago when summer departed. But today I woke up to the sound of a red-winged blackbird and a group of flying geese. There were more than the usual bird sounds. It was as if all the birds migrating south had decided to stop here for a day. All the local birds had become vocal too, as if celebrating the arrival of their northern friends.

This was convenient because today was October Big Day - the global day of bird counting, alongside Global Bird Weekend and World Migratory Bird Day. And so I set out with my binoculars to contribute to this worldwide citizen science effort by counting the number and type of birds I see.

The red-winged blackbird was still out singing from the topmost branch of an evergreen. A few yards ahead, to my heart’s delight, I saw a bunch of dark-eyed juncos, beautiful little snowbirds with grey white feathers and the bill with the most lovely colour of pink. They have returned, bringing winter on their wings. The last time I saw them was near the end of winter after which they fly away to north for summer breeding. It is a comfort to see these birds return as the cold weather sets in. While most of the other birds are going south, the sight of juncos, alongside local birds who stay back, make winters bearable. I saw a few Juncos foraging on the ground, and more than a dozen flew to a tree when they saw me coming. I tried to be inconspicuous, but clearly not as successful.

The rest of my walk I saw the usual sightings of robins, doves, woodpeckers, blue jays, sparrows, starlings and more. But then I saw a bird I do not see as often, a shy hermit thrush. If you are a birder reading this, you know how most thrushes look the same. It took me a while to identify this one. I kept switching between the pictures of hermit, swainson, and a wood thrush on my phone. But eventually the spots on the breasts convinced me it was a hermit thrush. The thrushes were quiet today, but on rare occasions, when I have heard them sing in the forest, the ethereal ancient quality of their sweet song has always enchanted me. John Burroughs, an American naturalist once described its singing:

Listening to this strain on the lone mountain, with the full moon just rounded from the horizon, the pomp of your cities and the pride of your civilization seemed trivial and cheap.

By the end of a 102 minutes walk I had reported 14 species (a small number but a satisfying experience), amongst which was also the tiny and absolutely adorable golden-crowned kinglet, who I found hopping from one branch to another.

When I returned home, the red-winged blackbird was still singing on the topmost branch of an evergreen. I don’t know if it was the same one I saw at the start of my count but it was a perfect ending to my October big day walk.