Alright, let’s dish. When you’re a new birder, it takes some time to get accustomed to the ins and outs of this very particular hobby. You’ve not only got a massive list of bird species to familiarize yourself with, but you’ve got the oddities of birding etiquette, the lingo, the eBirding procedures and more. It takes time and experience to mentally sift through all of that, and in the process, mistakes are made.
It’s a reality. New birders make mistakes. Experienced birders make mistakes. Everyone makes mistakes.
I remember feeling really embarrassed and ashamed when I’d mistakes while birding. (I say “remember” like it was a long time ago, but let’s be honest: I got an email yesterday correcting one of my recent sightings of an extremely common bird … yup.) But making mistakes is how we learn. It’s how we grow. It’s how we improve. If you’re not making mistakes while birding, then something’s up.
But if you need some proof and some reassurance, this week’s Entryway to Birding blog is for you. I’m laying it all out all out there—the silly, the ill-timed, the embarrassing—to remind you that no matter what mistakes you make in the field, you’ll be a better birder after you learn from them.
Let’s learn from some of mine.
“What did you ID me as?!” asks this yellow-rumped warbler in its fall plumage. These “butterbutts” as they affectionally get called were everywhere at Lake Kegonsa State Park this weekend, and each time I saw one, I wanted to ID it as something different. But a better look always proved me wrong. Photo by Caitlyn Schuchhardt
Don’t let your excitement startle the birds
Back in January, a northern goshawk was spotted in the Arboretum—a rare bird for Dane County. We all thought it was a one-day-wonder, but over a month later, on a group bird walk, we spotted a low flyover of an odd looking juvenile Cooper’s hawk. It gave us all pause and we turned around to follow it. We hustled down the snowy path, rounded the bend, and sure enough—there it was, perched near the Visitor Center! Not a Coop at all; it was much bigger and showing off field marks that pointed straight to juvenile goshawk.
Did we all see the bird? Technically yes.
Did we all get good looks at the bird? … No.
And why was that?
It was because I got incredibly excited, waved my arms about, jumped up and down, and shouted a series of loud expletives. And there it flew.
I didn’t have a camera back when the northern goshawk sighting occurred, but maybe if I did, I would have spent more time snapping photos and less time scaring it off … Photo by Melissa Kesling
Loud noises and sudden movements don’t mix well with birding, rarity or not. My fellow birders were understanding of my excitement, and I apologized profusely, but I could tell that everyone would have enjoyed more time with this cool bird that was a lifer for several of us.
You should get excited about birds. You should own that excitement and share it with others. But you should also—with all the constraint you can muster—hold it in until the bird has naturally flown and everyone present has gotten satisfying looks. Your fellow birders will thank you for it.
Pay attention to your surroundings
I was out at Cherokee North recently, practicing some slow birding. Things were active and I was immersed in the moment, looking with my binoculars, then pulling out my camera, then back to my binoculars, then back to my camera. I was in my own little birding bubble.
A yellow warbler silently judges me for not paying attention to my surroundings. Photo by Caitlyn Schuchhardt
A slight noise off to the side caused me to glance up. A runner was standing 10 feet away, with two walkers also spaced out behind him. He offered a gentle, “I didn’t want to interrupt you” and I apologized profusely and made space for the line of traffic I had been blocking—for who knows how long—to safely pass by.
Birding can take us to another world, but remember to keep one eye on your surroundings. Be considerate and respectful of others’ space and time, and don’t let your cluelessness give birders a bad rep.
Don’t trust the first thing out of your mouth
While out on my first ever Christmas Bird Count, our small group was walking along Arboretum Drive by Lake Wingra. A large raptor flew up from the reeds of the marsh and flew low, straight towards us before it banked upwards and flew off. I pointed and loudly shouted “Owl!” at a very obvious red-tailed hawk.
Not an owl, I repeat, not an owl! This is a northern harrier, but gosh doesn’t that face kinda look owl-ish, like if you squint or something? Photo by Andy Reago and Chrissy McClarren CC BY
Chalk it up to a new birder’s excitement (at this point still untamed), inexperience, or simply owls-on-the-brain—I had seen my lifer barred owl earlier that morning! Yet this near-exact scenario happened to me literally last week. I was out canoeing with a friend through Waubesa Wetlands SNA when a northern harrier swooped close by, low over the marsh. And I—again!—pointed and exclaimed “Owl!” at yet another bird that wasn’t an owl.
I knew within a half-second of my mouth opening that I was wrong. I felt a little bit of my birding cred slip away.
(Though, in my gut instinct’s defense, harriers have a very owl-like face, with a unique facial disk of feathers that gives them some stellar hearing power, much like owls. And it was so close, larger than I expected, so it’s wingspan was … yeah, I’ll stop trying to explain this away and just accept that, apparently, in my heart of hearts, I just want to see more owls. Who doesn’t?)
Sometimes you’ll mis-ID things. Loudly and in public. Likely in front of people you’d like to impress. Accept that everyone does this at some point, own your mistake, and move on.
And on that note …
Beware Wishful thinking, Which can make any bird look like the bird you want it to be
It’s funny how the power of suggestion works. I’m sure every birder is familiar with the mental gymnastics that happen when you get a quick glimpse of a bird and your poor look at a single field mark sparks a thought, “Could that be a [insert uncommon bird name here]?!”
I recently spent a good two minutes looking at a bird that I thought was a distant buff-breasted sandpiper, only to realize that everyone else’s descriptions of the bird’s movement weren’t matching up with what I was seeing and, sure enough, my scope was pointing in a slightly different direction than theirs. Hmm.
I was able to get much better looks at a buff-breasted sandpiper, pictured here, at a different location a few days later. Thank goodness, too, because my first sighting was so poor I could barely make out the bird. Photo by Caitlyn Schuchhardt
I eventually got on the right bird, but by golly—the one I was looking at seemed to magically have all the field marks of a buff-breasted sandpiper AND a pectoral sandpiper at the same time. Sometimes we see what we want to see.
This isn’t the first time this has happened. I’ve made some big mental leaps that have turned common birds into much more exciting ones, only for my friends to politely crush my dreams. The reality can be mildly disappointing, but it’s good to recognize how easy it can be for your brain to make those jumps—the more familiar you are with that propensity, the more you can recognize when you’re veering into the danger zone of wishful thinking.
All that said, this type of mistake can go both ways—sometimes you really are looking at something cooler than expected! I called out “pelican” when this bird flew overhead at Necedah Wildlife Refuge—my gut reaction to seeing a large white bird with black wingtips soaring above. Had I been in Dane County, I would probably had been right. But pictured here is a much rarer whooping crane. Photo by Caitlyn Schuchhardt
One of the reasons that I love following birding groups on Facebook is that, every now and then, there will be a sighting that fools everyone—expert birders alike. The suggestion will get out there that maybe it’s a [uncommon bird name here] and suddenly everyone is seeing those field marks, when really it’s just a poorly light or rough angle on a more common bird. Someone ends up being the voice of reason and everyone gets reminded how easy it is to be fooled.
Stop thinking that everyone is trying to one-up you
I remember when I first started birding and all the birds were so new to me. I’d mention a new sighting to fellow birders while on walks, and many would often respond with stories of their own sightings—much cooler, more exciting sightings!—of the many number of times that they had seen that bird too. I would start out excited, but end up feeling like I was just one-upped times ten. It made me feel self-conscious.
None of this was anyone’s intention—I guarantee it. Birders love birds, like really love ‘em. And they can talk for days about all the times they’ve seen a cool bird, any bird. I know now that these conversations were driven out of pure joy and wanting to bond over common, shared experiences.
But to a new birder—and a not very confident birder—it was easy to over-analyze this type of interaction and feel put off by it. Don’t make the mistake I did and assume everyone is out to one-up you. They’re not. Recognize that this behavior comes from wanting to share their joy with you because they know that you, too, will appreciate how freakin’ cool seeing a new bird is!
I’ve been making a point to recognize and shift this behavior in myself—because I’m definitely guilty of it. I’ve been working to keep my responses focused on celebrating the sighting someone is sharing with me. Most people will ask about your sightings anyway too—there’s plenty of bird talk to go around!
Dress for the weather, not for fashion
This is a lesson you’ll learn quickly, as soon winter hits. Winter birding is magical and rewarding—there is something about trudging through freshly fallen snow, getting clear and unobstructed views of birds, and enjoying the peace of fewer people on the trail. But if you aren’t prepared for a bitter wind and some cold, slushy, icy trails, you’re gonna have a bad time.
Insulated boots are a must. And choose mittens over gloves—you’ll want the body heat from your other fingers to keep you warm. And don’t forget your hat—it probably dampen the sound of some bird calls, but your ears will thank you. Photo by Caitlyn Schuchhardt
I made this mistake once. And only once. Less than a third of the way through my first real winter bird walk, my feet and hands were so cold I couldn’t feel them, but I was too embarrassed to leave the group walk after it just got started, so I soldiered on. I think I spent more time thinking about if I was getting frostbite than looking at the birds.
I wouldn’t recommend a scarf of this thickness or a snowsuit this compact—you do want to consider factors such as neck mobility (to see those tree tops) and arm mobility (to get your bins quickly to your face). But still—he’s got the right idea. Photo from A Christmas Story
Bundle up. Be safe and warm. Dress for comfort and not for fashion. You might look like Randy from A Christmas Story, but you’ll at least be warm and comfortable.
This advice applies all year long—know when to wear long pants with socks pulled over them if you’re in tick-prone areas, wear sunscreen, and keep some muck boots in your car. You’ll never know when you’ll need them, and god forbid your lack of preparation keeps you from a new bird sighting—that would be a birding blunder indeed.
Whether it’s a flagrant mis-ID, an in-the-field faux pas, or having the wrong mindset when it comes to a birding situation, I’ve made many blunders over my first year of birding—more than I have time to list here. But in the process, I’ve learned more about myself and become a better birder in the process.
There’s no end to making mistakes. If you’re new to birding and are finding your confidence dwindle as you make a mis-ID or a social misstep while out in the field, cut yourself some slack. You see all of your mistakes and they seem fresh and raw. What you don’t see are the years and years of mistakes that all your fellow birders have made before you.
So, go on. Make mistakes and make ‘em good. Blunder your way through this hobby. You’ll be a better birder in the end.
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Caitlyn is the Communications and Outreach Assistant at Madison Audubon. She’s crazy for birds because they changed her life. She’ll be back next Monday with some tips and tools for birders, new and experienced! Between now and then, she’d love to hear about the birds you’re seeing and hearing. Leave a comment below (I dare you to share your own birding blunder!) or email to drop her a line!
