A couple of weeks ago I was walking into a trout stream (here I go again) when I spotted an odd splotch of brown, white, and black on the opposite bank. I could not make it out — a dead raccoon? a sleeping badger? Neither seemed quite right and the latter sort of ridiculous. Later as I had worked back to that bank, I had my answer when a goose erupted off her nest. I had not known that geese flatten themselves on a nest when they feel threatened. Within the next week or so on two different streams I saw the same phenomena. In both cases, though, I instantly recognized what I was seeing.
A Canada goose on the nest. Photo by Arlene Koziol
I experienced how quickly the human eye learns to identify patterns at an unconscious level. A remarkable human attribute, Wisconsin morel hunters are about to happily enjoy that skill when they take to the woods this spring. When folks first start looking for morels on the floor of woods with leaf litter and vegetation just starting to grow, they despair of finding any. But, with luck, they spot one or two and then their eyes have learned. They're amazed at how they can now spot morels with some aplomb (of course, it really helps to be in place with morels; we not going to mention the folks who find the mother lode of morels and walk out of the woods with 10 pounds of Wisconsin's favorite fungus).
At the same time, in some of those same Wisconsin woods, our warblers are moving through and Madison Audubon birders and others are there to enjoy them. Again, their fast learning eyes are a key to this enjoyment. Most folks like me are dumbfounded at how well our birding friends can spot and identify warblers. They're small, they're fast, they flit, they like heavy brush — how can anyone see them well enough to know what they are? The answer, in part, is that birders have been looking for such birds for a long time. Over that time their eyes have learned many patterns. A flash of color and the glimpse of a silhouette enable the birder to know what the warbler is. In these cases, the eyes' natural aptitude has been assisted by birders' willingness to study the characteristics of many species.
Blackburnian warbler, photo by Monica Hall
Our eyesight is a great gift. In contemplating it, you can't help but reflect that some of us have not had or are losing our eyesight. Thankfully, our ears are as remarkable as our eyes. While ears don't help us with mushrooms, a great birders will use their ears, sometimes even more than their eyes. A trill or two, just like a glimpse of a feather, is all some birders need.
One of many good reasons to support Madison Audubon is because we offer classes to help folks like me train their eyes to spot birds. We've also been partnering with the Wisconsin Council of the Blind and Visually Impaired to host birders of all sighted abilities to use their wonderful ears to experience the joys of birding. This spring, in the wake of COVID-19 transitions, the class will be held online instead of in-person, but with tons of great content and conversation. You can learn more about the class and register here: madisonaudubon.org/naturalists/2020/5/28/birding-by-ear
Our Birding by Ear cohort from 2019, held in partnership with the Wisconsin Council of the Blind and Visually Impaired. Madison Audubon photo
Let's end with one of the great bird sounds of spring that can lead to one of the best sights. A few weeks ago, I stepped into a little wetland (and flushed a sora rail, very cool) and heard an eerie booming sound. Snipe booming, as part of their mating ritual. That sound changes a marsh and invests it with the mystery it deserves. The sound is generated by the air rushing through through their wings as they spiral and circle in spectacular flights above their breeding marshes. When you hear that sound, see if you can spot the acrobats. The sound alone, though, is a spring reward enough.
Written by Topf Wells, Madison Audubon board member and advocacy committee chair
