Peanuts In My Pocket

While attending the Morro Bay Bird Festival earlier this month, I signed up for a Big Day excursion. It was billed as a full-day group experience exploring the south county area of San Luis Obispo with an experienced guide. Since I’ve only just completed my first year as a birder, I had never done anything like this. I figured it would be a good learning experience. I was not prepared for just how intense that learning would be. It felt like drinking from a fire hose.

The day started on the bus ride to our first stop, Oso Flaco Lake. The fifteen people onboard immediately began calling out birds as we drove along the freeway and county roads. “Red-tailed Hawk on that fence post!” someone would shout, followed by nods and pointing. This happened over and over again. From my seat in the back corner of the bus, I missed most of it. My view was blocked by high-backed seats and fogged windows. I snapped the photo below in frustration.

When we arrived, I stepped off the bus to see a few Brewer’s Blackbirds and a lot of people pointing into the dense trees surrounding the parking lot. I was one of the few serious photographers. By serious, I mean that my focus is on getting good photos of the birds I see. A few others had cameras, but I didn’t see them used much. As I started shooting, the guide called out, “Woodpeckers!” There were two different species visible from the parking lot alone. Then came, “Spotted Towhee on the left,” a bird I needed for my life list but couldn’t locate, even with help from more experienced birders.

Within the first ten minutes and twenty yards of the trail, the group had identified twelve different birds. I managed to photograph about half of them. It was an exciting, but frustrating start.

As the walk continued, the pace of identification was hard to keep up with. Skilled birders make it look effortless, and it shows. I spent most of the day playing catch-up. The highlight of our first stop came when we rounded a corner and found a Sora less than twenty feet from the trail. A Sora. I had only photographed one before, and poorly at that. This time, I managed a few quick shots.

The guide and several others quickly noticed that I was struggling, and they went out of their way to help. They guided me slowly toward birds hidden from my sight and taught me how to use binoculars more effectively to locate and identify distant birds. Everyone could see a flock of Northern Shovelers at the far end of the lake except me. With some coaching, I finally spotted them and managed a truly terrible photo. I bought a good pair of 10×50 binoculars as soon as I got home.

As the day went on, a pattern emerged. A friendly gay couple who shared the back of the bus with me made sure I didn’t miss birds they spotted. One of them was so good at finding birds that it felt like a superpower. Another passenger, an older woman, patiently explained how to identify grebes. Someone else walked me through locating a kingfisher. This repeated at nearly every stop. I felt a bit like the slow kid in class. It didn’t help that we were literally on a short bus.

The group skewed toward retirement-aged birders. The guides were young, as were maybe three others in the group. The pace was manageable, even as the miles added up. I logged just over 14,000 steps that day, and everyone kept up. By the end, I was tired and a little grumpy. Grumpy, but completely satisfied. I added seven birds to my life list and, more importantly, gained measurable skills. In D&D terms, I leveled up. I consider myself a level-two birder now.

My goal for the year is to photograph 300 species, using eBird to track my progress. Along the way, I made a mistake. When you accept shared checklists, as I did for the Big Day outing, every bird on that list gets added to your stats. I photographed about thirty-five birds at our first stop but was surprised to see another fifty appear on my list, identified by other birders. I only realized something was wrong when a Bald Eagle showed up in my totals. I’m certain I didn’t see one of those. I eventually fixed the issue.

My standards are higher than counting casual sightings or bird song alone. I require a photo. It’s a constraint I’ve placed on myself in pursuit of this year’s goal. I think it’s making me a better birder. I’m getting much better at identifying species, even if I’m slower than most. The other birders on this trip were vastly more experienced than I am, and that was humbling. It’s also an experience I intend to repeat as soon as I can.