Painted BuntingHow does one come to a life with birds?
Are there sentient peoples that have walked this planet and not known them? Not the Inuit, with streams of murres, guillemots, and puffins cascading across their arctic landscape. Certainly not the ancient Egyptians, who balanced their deification of the cat with heiroglyphical cranes, geese, and falcons. There are prehistoric stone sculptures of echidnas from New Guinea, quetzals from the ruins at Chichen Itza, and sea eagles atop Alaskan totems. To breathe, to open one’s eyes and ears each morning, is to know birds.
I came to birds with, but not through, my parents. My father hunted birds (he would later abandon his shotgun for binoculars), and I often accompanied him on late summer dove hunts in rural central Texas. I suspect that my life with birds began at a much earlier age, though, and stemmed from a fascination with birds as accessible expressions of life.
I point to my mother’s archives as evidence. She neatly squirreled away most of my kindergarten drawings, elementary grade report cards, baseball team photos, and prom invitations, and passed these family heirlooms my way late in life. Rummaging through these “treasures” I found a number of my construction paper drawings in which birds are clearly and recognizably rendered. In one there is an obvious northern cardinal, tinted with a fiery color only found in a Crayola box. Given my age at that time (four or five) I can only guess that my life with birds began as childhood curiosity, one that eventually flowered into a passion that would eventually transcend science, recreation, or reason.
At the University of Houston I majored in journalism. Although I matriculated high school in the late 1960s, Woodward and Bernstein were only peripheral or distant inspirations. My heroes were Roger Tory Peterson, Elliot Porter, and Louis Agassiz Fuertes. Journalism (particularly photojournalism) swelled my interest in photography both as art and as information. With birds as a subject, I could now explore ways in which the photographed bird might advance beyond “documentation.” For a birder, the photographed bird is proof that it existed. With proof a birder “scores.” I wanted to do more with my photography, to show birds as I perceived them metaphysically. I wanted to show birds as individuals, not as species or specimens. I wanted to capture life on film.
My studies exposed me to more than photography’s immediate possibilities; I also learned of its past. From Henri Cartier-Bresson’s The Galveston That Was to George Hurrell’s Jean Harlow and Jane Russell, I began to grasp that the photographic process was far more complex and demanding than “point-and-shoot.” I learned of photography’s discipline and rigor, of the basic principles of composition, of the power of the well-placed highlight. I studied Cartier-Bresson’s talent for blending into the background, the street, enabling him to closely approach his subjects and capture what he described as “the instant sketch” with only a rangefinder Leica camera and a 50 mm lens. For a time I practiced by photographing birds only in black-and-white, subordinating the seductive power of their dramatic colors to the subtle art of shadow and light.
My early results were desultory, photos taken as through another’s camera. I photographed hoping to recreate pictures I had seen before. With time, though, I developed a perspective, an eye. My wife, Virginia, helped me understand the concepts of expression and impression and the photographer’s obligation to allow each picture to live up to its emotional (not just documentary) potential. Through her I began to understand that the lens has the power to reshape and redefine reality, to peel away artifice and allow the emotional essence of each subject to show through the clutter and disorder that surrounds them.
With Faces of Flight I focused the eye of the camera on one essential truth – the universal appeal of birds. These are intended as glamour shots, intimate portraits that display each individual bird in the most intricate detail, each feather precisely mapped. Each individual portrait stands alone, evidence that this particular bird and I shared a precious moment and space on this planet. All were captured in and released back to their native habitats without harm. The photographs only record a brief second in time, an “instant sketch,” and reflect only a short interlude in what I hope were otherwise long and fecund lives.
Only late in life, though, have I developed an additional understanding of these birds and their photographs. I began as a birder, evolved to being a naturalist, and only now, with six decades under my belt (and the scars to prove it), am I trying to see beyond the evident and the puerile. Through a life with birds I have come to a better understanding of my life with my fellow man. My essays are a pilgrimage, a solemn journey to a distant corner of the psyche where I might glance back at who I am.
Pablo Neruda, in “The Poet Says Good-Bye to the Birds,” wrote of himself as
…A people’s poet, provincial and birder/ I’ve wandered the world in search of life/bird by bird I’ve come to know the earth…
Picture by picture, essay by essay, I have come to know Neruda’s earth as well.
Ted Eubanks
18 Oct 2010
For those interested in seeing the exhibit, I have load the images as well as the interpretive panels and poster we designed here for your enjoyment. The original is now in the hands of Karla Klay of Artist Boat, and I hope that she will use the exhibit to help raise funds for her wonderful organization.
It was passed from one bird to another,
the whole gift of the day.
The day went from flute to flute,
went dressed in vegetation,
in flights which opened a tunnel
through the wind would pass
to where birds were breaking open
the dense blue air –
and there, night came in.
When I returned from so many journeys,
I stayed suspended and green
between sun and geography –
I saw how wings worked,
how perfumes are transmitted
by feathery telegraph,
and from above I saw the path,
the springs and the roof tiles,
the fishermen at their trades,
the trousers of the foam;
I saw it all from my green sky.
I had no more alphabet
than the swallows in their courses,
the tiny, shining water
of the small bird on fire
which dances out of the pollen.
Pablo Neruda
The American Ornithologists’ Union (AOU) has reshuffled the birding world, and bird people are checking their lists to find the winners and losers, the splits and the lumps. The splitters have dominated for the past several years, and I see no overcoming their hegemony. Why complain? I gain a whip-poor-will and a wren without lifting the binocs.
Birders obsess over the typology of birds. I obsess over the typology of birders. For years I have tried to understand the diverse ways people approach nature through birds. I know; the word “birdwatcher” conjures visions of mossy pith helmets, khaki shorts framing pallid legs, and Miss Jane Hathaway. But there are over 80 million bird people, and surely not all are as geeky as the spoofs would imply. For God’s sake, Ian Fleming named his fictional spy (Bond, James Bond) after one of the bird people!
Who are these bird people? Let’s return to the National Survey of Recreation and the Environment (NSRE), the survey that cuts the broadest swath across the birding world. The NSRE asks the following questions in their telephone surveys of Americans 16 and older:
During the past 12 months, did you view, identify, or photograph birds outdoors?
Respondents that answered yes are then asked the following question:
On how many different days did you view, identify, or photograph birds outdoors?
A sample that the NSRE believes accurately reflects 81 million Americans answered yes to the first question. What astounds me is that anyone would answer no. What sentient human on this planet has not viewed a bird in the past 12 months, the visually impaired notwithstanding? How many people in this country have not seen or heard a bird today? I know, there are shut-ins for whom nature is shut out. But for the rest of us, just open the front door or the shades.
Let’s begin with the assumption that the NSRE respondents believed “view” to mean a concerted effort rather than incidental contact. If so, there are over 80 million Americans who have consciously approached nature through birds – the bird people. Within this amorphous mass there is a small segment we label as birdwatchers or birders. The vast majority are titleless. Most enjoy birds around the home, and may get no more advanced in skill than recognizing a chee-chee bird at the feeder.
Is this world of bird people so unfaceted, so simple as to be inhabited by a homogeneous people who only “view, identify, and photograph?” Enter typology. We know thousands of species of birds. What about the species of birders?
To develop a typology of bird people we must first strip away the obvious and look closely at how motivations are manifest in behavior. In other words, what are all of the ways that an interest in birds is reflected in how bird people act? What brings people to birds in the first place, and what keeps them engaged? Why do a few identify with the name “birder,” while most don’t?
I will start with the watchers. There are bird people who watch all birds, and collect their experiences in the form of a list. In the U.S., to list 700 species is considered a milestone accomplishment. There are watchers that have life lists, state lists, county lists, city lists, yard lists, and even feeder lists. Some bird people count the birds seen each year, and others try to see the most in a single day. Some count hawks, some shorebirds. Many watch at night, others from the deck of a boat (pelagics, whooping cranes, puffins). I have known people who kept a list of birds seen or heard while watching television and movies (surely you remember the kookaburras and peacocks echoing through Tarzan’s jungle).
Bird people join organizations and clubs, such as the National Audubon Society, the American Birding Association, state ornithological societies, and local bird clubs. Many join just to receive a magazine or newsletter. Each activity, event, organization, and periodical attracts an infinitesimally small fraction of the bird people. The bird people are the elephant in the bathtub, yet most serving them see only a leg, foot, or trunk.
There are bird people that watch but do not keep lists (I am one of the listless). Some try to place a name on every bird seen, while many are content to experience nature through birds without a need for further analysis or understanding. There are those who will spend thousands of dollars on equipment, and some are happy with a $25 pair of Tascos. I know accomplished bird people who carry nothing more than a dog-eared field guide and a pair of Army surplus binoculars, and incompetent birders who are well-adorned gear-heads. There are traditional bird people who rely on optics, and others who watch birds migrate with Doppler radar and track them by satellite. Many watch birds on their computers (feedercams, nestcams). Bird people watch owls and goat-suckers at night (and migrants crossing the full moon), and others record bird sounds with ARUs (Autonomous Recording Unit).
There are watchers who memorialize what they see in ways other than ticking a name off of a list. For example, there are bird people who photograph birds, digiscope birds, draw birds, paint birds, record bird songs, video birds, and keep notes and journals about bird sightings. Bird people then submit their notes and recordings of rarities to other bird people who serve on bird committees. Bird people maintain rare bird alerts, phone messages, and email lists such as Birdchat. There are a select few who devise new ways of identifying birds (ID Frontiers). There are bird people producing bird programs on radio, television, and video. There are even bird people movies such as Winged Migration, March of the Penguins, and the forthcoming Big Year.
There are bird people who express their watching experiences through art. Pablo Neruda wrote poems about watching birds. Salvidor Dali included a barn swallow in Still Life – Fast Moving, and crows were among Van Gogh’s final subjects in Wheat Field with Crows. Tom Robbins’ Still Life with Woodpecker is perhaps his best writing, and of course Peter Matthiessen has written about birds and nature often during his splendid career. I find it heartening to know that Neruda, Dali, Van Gogh, Robbins, and Matthiessen are bird people too.
But bird people memorialized birds in art millennia before the impressionists. I have seen peacocks painted on the walls of Tao shrines in China, ocellated turkeys in Mayan glyphs, and a kingfisher exquisitely illustrated in a Hiroshige woodblock print. The Egyptians including cranes and falcons in their monuments, Native Americans carved owl faces in their rock art, and Australian aboriginals painted the extinct Genyornis on cave walls over 40,000 years ago.
Peacock painting, Weibao Mountain, Yunnan, China
Writers and artists describe and illustrate birds also as a way of educating and informing. Bird people write and illustrate identification guides (such as those by David Sibley, Kenn Kaufman, and National Geographic), organize bird trails, and create weblogs about birds and birding (such as Birdspert, and 10000 Birds). Yet within each of these subsets there are further divisions. We have yet to reach the atomic level of watching. For example, there are people who photograph from a blind, others who shoot from the window of their car, and some use high-speed flash. There are those who like to photograph birds on the wing, those who prefer the closest cropped view, and others, such as the Japanese, who photograph birds within a broader landscape.
There are bird painters who use water colors, and others who paint in oils. There are sketchers, illustrators, and print-makers and lithographers. There are painters who strive for realism, others for impression. People carve birds, mold birds, and cast birds. A few people paint only hummingbirds, others only ducks. In my Galveston home there are prints by Audubon, Gould, Fuertes, Peterson, John O’Neil, GM Sutton, Don Eckelberry, and Lars Jonnson. I am surrounded by bird people.
What about the bird-feeding bird people? Aren’t they watchers too (I doubt that many are feeding birds to fatten them up.)? There are gardeners for whom birds are a byproduct of the urban landscape. Many people are content to hang a couple of seed feeders from an eave, others manage intricate bird cafeterias with nectar, water, suet cakes, fruit, meal worms, wax worms, and various seeds and nuts on the menu. In the north people feed hummingbirds in the summer, and along the Gulf coast in the winter. Rather than install feeders, there are bird people who would rather cultivate native habitat around the yard, ranch, or farm to attract birds. Some install bird baths, others elaborate ponds. Some build bird houses, some buy and install the same (for bluebirds, for example), some people and even communities erect elaborate hotels for purple martins, and others construct artificial chimneys for swifts. Many of these feeder/garden/bird house people are organized. There is the Purple Martin Conservation Association, the Hummingbird Society, and ChimneySwifts.org. Some participate in Cornell’s Feeder Watch. Others subscribe to specialty magazines (Birds and Blooms and Bird Watchers’ Digest, for example).
Of course there are other bird people who supply the bird feeder people. There are bird people that manufacture (Droll Yankee feeders, Perky Pet), retailers (Duncraft, Wild Birds Unlimited), and websites (The Backyard Bird Company, JustBirdHouses, and BirdWatcher Supply Company). At backyardbird.com, you can order a bird house with your favorite NFL team’s insignia emblazoned on the front. Big Pockets provides clothing for birders, and Nikon, Swarovski, and Bushnell are among the optic manufacturers. Google the words “birdwatching supply” and see the reach of the market. Non-profit nature centers sell birding stuff, CLO sells birding stuff, Walmart sells birding stuff, National Geographic sells birding stuff, and ABA sells birding stuff.
There are bird people who offer services to other bird people. There are bird lodges (Pico Bonito in Honduras, Asa Wright in Trinidad, and O’Reilly’s in Australia are among my favorites), and bird guide companies that will take you to them (Victor Emanuel Nature Tours, Wings, and Field Guides, for example). There are bird tourism agencies and staff, marketing bird experiences such as the Wetlands and Wildlife Scenic Byway in Kansas or the World Birding Centers in South Texas. There are companies, such as Fermata, that help bird companies connect with other bird people.
Bird companies are bird people too.
Then there are the people who hunt birds. Of course all intentionally view birds as well, even if only down the barrel of a shotgun. There are bird hunters who stalk upland birds such as pheasant and quail, and others who find pleasure in freezing in a duck blind. There are bird people who hunt cranes, rails, snipe, and woodcock. Some hunters are after dove in the fall, others turkey in the spring. Some use dogs, others master bird calls. Bird hunters have not only separate interests but separate organizations as well, such as Pheasants Forever, Ducks Unlimited, Quail Unlimited, the Ruffed Grouse Society, and the National Wild Turkey Federation. If a hunter responds affirmatively to the NSRE survey, he (hunters are predominantly male) becomes one of the bird people as well.
These types of hunting are legal and controlled. Other types are not. There are kids killing yard birds with pellet guns. In many countries (such as Mexico), there are bird people who make their living by trapping and selling caged birds. Many of the trappers know precisely the names and habits of the birds they capture. Are these bird people too? Aren’t they intentionally viewing?
Bird people express, watch, feed, and hunt. They also study and teach. There are scientists for whom birds are the primary subject (ornithologists), and others for whom birds are indicators (ecologists, for example). There are universities such as LSU and Cornell with renowned schools of ornithology. There are bird educators, both formal and informal. Bird people lead field trips, conduct seminars, and speak at gatherings of other bird people. There are bird education organizations such as the Bird Education Network, Flying WILD, and Cornell’s Project Urban Bird. Bird people band birds during migration, at night (like owls at Whitefish Point), some for research, and others to ring and fling. A few collect birds as specimens, others collect birds as points of data.
Banding northern saw-whet owls at Whitefish Point Bird Observatory
There are bird scientists who study bird conservation, and others who manage conservation in the field. There are game and nongame bird biologists. There are professional bird students, and nonprofessional bird teachers. I know bird people who inventory proposed sites for wind power development, and others who study endangered species threatened by oil spills. In recent years many bird people have become involved with identifying important bird areas (IBAs), and compiling breeding bird atlases. There are bird laboratories and bird observatories, with some specializing in research (Point Reyes and Powermill), some in education (Black Swamp, Cape May), and others in conservation (Gulf Coast Bird Observatory).
Bird people are also in the public’s eye. Two former presidents were (and are) bird people – Theodore Roosevelt and Jimmy Carter. As a young man Roosevelt even toyed with becoming a biologist, and he kept a detailed list of all the birds he saw on the White House grounds during his presidency. The brief movie below is from the 1915 trip to Breton Island (LA) by Roosevelt, the only one of his refuges he personally visited. Former Secretary of Defense James Schlesinger and former Treasury Secretary Henry Paulson are bird people as well. In 1948 Whittaker Chambers tripped alleged spy Alger Hiss with a prothonotary warbler. Count Jane Alexander, George Plimpton, Agatha Christie, and Ian Fleming among the bird people too.
Bird people are also in the public’s eye. Two former presidents were (and are) bird people: Theodore Roosevelt, and Jimmy Carter. As a young man Roosevelt even toyed with becoming a biologist, and he kept a detailed list of all the birds he saw on the White House grounds during his presidency. Former Secretary of Defense James Schlesinger and former Treasury Secretary Henry Paulson are bird people as well. In 1948 Whittaker Chambers tripped alleged spy Alger Hiss with a prothonotary warbler. Count Jane Alexander, George Plimpton, Agatha Christie, and Ian Fleming among the bird people too.
I have even known bird people named for birds (names either by their parents or later changed; I’m not asking.). I know a cerulean (Susan, one of the creators of the Great Florida Birding Trails), a shearwater (Deborah, whose company guides people to see pelagic species such as shearwaters), and a mallard (Larry, who managed wildlife refuges in Arkansas when I knew him). The former president of the National Audubon Society is John Flicker, and the current chairman of the board is Holt Thrasher.
Bird conservation groups work at the state level (Mass Audubon, New Jersey Audubon), and some locally (such as the Houston Audubon Society and Hawk Mountain). Federal and state agencies promote bird conservation, manage bird refuges and sanctuaries, and enforce bird conservation laws and treaties. Cities such as Houston, Chicago, and Philadelphia have signed the Urban Conservation Treaty for Migratory Birds. I have known staff from bird organizations that eagerly raised funds for birds they knew nothing about. I have known crusaders that would slip in the name of an endangered bird at the drop of a hat if it bolstered their argument. And I have known many, many bird people who blithely ignored the bush with the bird.
Who are the bird people? All of this, and more.
Birdwatching is a Victorian pastime that overnight morphed into a 21st Century recreation – birding. Birding has the flexibility to allow each person to fit the interest to themselves. The constraints that once limited birding (where to go, what to see) have been shattered by technology. Along with the transformation of watching, other aspects have been fundamentally altered. When I began birding scientists were still arguing whether or not birds migrated across the Gulf of Mexico. Now we can watch them on Doppler from the comforts of our living room. As as kid we bought striped sunflower seed (the only type available) at the feed store. Now I go to Wildbirds Unlimited and have access to every type of seed, feeder, and accoutrement I can imagine. Birds and their watching have become a big business, fueled by the growing appetite of the bird people.
Birds bind people together. No human being aware of their surroundings has lived absent birds. Birds offer a lingua franca for describing nature, and a portal for approaching the world outdoors. No matter how divergent our evolution, we all converge upon a notion expressed so sublimely by bird person (and Nobel Laureate) Pablo Neruda:
Pablo Neruda
A people’s poet,
provincial and birder,
I’ve wandered the world in search of life,
bird by bird I’ve come to know the earth.
The American Birding Association (ABA) is stumbling through one of its cyclical deconstructions. Leaders are being ousted, budgets are being thrashed, and blame is being heaped. You would think that people who watch (rather than kill or maim) birds would be placid, investing their emotional selves in an adoration of nature. Think again. This recreation is constructed around honor (and its kin, ego), and around trust in one’s word. Hunters and anglers drag their game to the scale. Birders ask to be believed. In birding, most of what you see are for others the ones that got away.
In 1968 Jim Tucker relocated to Texas from Florida. Recognizing a gap between the science of birds and their conservation, he conceived of an organization focused entirely on birding for fun. Floating a circular among birding friends, he soon attracted the critical mass necessary to get the ABA off the ground.
Although a Texas birder during this time, I did not cross paths with ABA until 1976. The concept of listing did not appeal to me, and I never invested much time in seeing if the group had more to offer. In 1976 ABA held its third convention in Beaumont, and while birding High Island I suddenly faced bus loads of bird people unlike those I had seen before. In the late 1960s and 1970s High Island did not attract many birders from out of state (in fact, few from Texas other than those from along the immediate Gulf coast). Yet here were hoards of self-consumed, self-involved bird people washing over our woods with the sensitivity of a storm surge. At that moment I decided that ABA and I would never pair.
With years I changed. In 1981 I served on the board of Houston Audubon. My family owned three lots in High Island, next to Scout’s Woods. I received a call from our neighbor (Louis Smith), the owner of Scout’s Woods, asking if we would be interested in purchasing the property. I told him that I would present the opportunity to the local birding groups and get back with him. With friends (Paul Nimmons and Fred Collins) we first went before the Ornithology Group of the Outdoor Nature Club (the first nature group established in Houston), and received the cold shoulder. We then approached Houston Audubon, and they jumped at the chance. Suddenly Houston Audubon owned one of the nation’s renowned birding spots, and the ABA came aboard to help raise the funds for its acquisition and protection. I decided to take a second look at the organization.
The result is that for the past 30 years I have been a member. I have known many of the staff and the board, have spoken at conventions, and have written for their publications. I like ABA and its quirkiness. The problem with inconsistency (one version of quirky) is that eventually you lose people’s trust. ABA is beginning to lose mine. Bird people, Yatsu Higata, Tokyo, Japan
My company, Fermata, has been in the birding business for over two decades. We started the birding trail phenomenon in Texas, and have now worked on trails in over 20 states. We have published on birds and birders, researched birds and birders, and develop products and programs for birds and birders. We recently finished the first birding national scenic byway (the Wetlands and Wildlife Scenic Byway in Kansas), and we are now moving to urban areas such as Philadelphia and Pittsburgh to continue inviting people to nature through birds. We do know more than a little about the recreation.
What has stumped me for all of these years is that while we continue to grind away at bringing birding to the public, the bird organizations themselves have done little to advocate for the recreation. Hunters have no problem with being advocates, and their organizations such as Ducks Unlimited, Boone and Crockett, RMEF, and the Safari Club are unapologetic about proselytizing for hunting. Trout Unlimited and the American Sportfishing Association are among those that do so for fishing, and a few (like the Theodore Roosevelt Conservation Assocation) advocate for both. There are organizations whose advocacy is decidedly political (the NRA), and some that specialize (Walleyes Unlimited and Pheasants Forever). Mountain bikers have advocacy groups (such as the IMBA), kayakers and canoers have advocacy groups (such as the American Canoe Association), and even ATVs have their advocates (such as the ATVA). Trust me; if there is a public meeting that even remotely touches on their recreation, these groups show up.
Birders do not. If motivated enough, a representative of a local birding club might speak on the needs of the birding community. But the national organizations, in my experience, are absent. National Audubon is not an advocate for birding, their decades of work in bird conservation notwithstanding . The American Bird Conservancy is not an advocate for birding, their excellent efforts on bird conservation policy notwithstanding. ABA has simply been absent, content to fiddle.
I have poured over the surveys of ABA memberships, and there appears to be an obvious path forward. Let me offer this caveat, however. These surveys are only of members. Given the ABA’s minuscule membership (floating or sinking between 12 and 15 thousand), these surveys can offer no insight into the bird people population at large.
According to the surveys (and common sense), members are interested in learning about the birds of their region. Although most consider themselves to be accomplished birders, they are keenly interested in all aspect of birds and birding. Most are concerned about the plight of birds, and support bird conservation efforts. In fact, I would argue that in these desires ABA members are similar to hunters and anglers.
Wildlife (elk) watching, Winslow Hill, PA
Given the success that hunting and fishing organizations enjoy (with fish and game agencies tap dancing to their tunes), I suggest that the new ABA begin by being true to the name. ABA should become the voice for birding in this country. Leave Colorado (the entire state has 5 million people, for God’s sake), and relocate to a population center in or near Washington D.C. (try Philadelphia, for example). Woody Allen said that 80% of success showing up. ABA is still waiting in the wings.
The hunting and fishing groups are able to meet the needs of their most expert members, as well as beginners. Why not ABA? “Who is a birder” is a cyclical argument that can never be resolved. All I suggest is that out of the millions who find their way to nature through birds, the bird people, there are far more than 12 thousand who call themselves birders. Begin by reaching out to them for support, and to the tens of millions of bird people by speaking on their behalf.
Change is easy when faced with death. ABA has been on life support for years, and the latest upheaval only exposes the patient’s condition to the world. Hiring a new president to lead this crippled organization is not an answer unto itself. For the new leadership to succeed, the organization must be transformed. If the board (ultimately responsible to the members) is not willing to change, to be the agent for transformation, then the board should step back and invite those who are up to the challenge to take the reins. There is a road forward, but not with the same drivers or the same vehicle.
With all of this said, I offer a final word of encouragement. For ABA, the path forward is clear, and only awaits the right people to move ahead. Organizations are not your children. They can be disowned, disemboweled, and reconstructed to fit the needs of the moment. Let’s tear this baby apart, and get her ready for the 21st Century.
