Monthly Archive for January, 2010

“Can we go bird chasing tomorrow?!”

We are visiting Scott’s family in the tiny town of Spences Bridge, British Columbia.  His young great-nephew is eager to go birding with us again.  We have taken him out in the height of the spring and early summer when Lewis’s Woodpecker, Lazuli Buntings, and Osprey drip from the trees around the rivers.  But this is November. The birds have moved south for the winter and seeing anything is going to be a real challenge – particularly for an active 9-year-old.

But undaunted, we arm Dillon with a pair of Nikon 9×25 Travelite V Binoculars, grab our Leica spotting scope, pocket my iPhone loaded with bird apps, and head up the Thompson River to Scott’s brother Mike’s orchards.  Surely we’ll be able to find something, anything, at the Hilltop Gardens.  We venture up into a canyon above the gardens where pure mountain water burbles down through rocky walls and supports a large stand of naked trees shut down for the winter cold.

An hour later we have seen nothing, not a peep, whistle, or chip note, to be heard.  But we are undeterred.  With eagerness and energy only a 9-year-old can produce, we scrambled high on the canyon walls following Big Horn sheep trails while Scott struggled below next to the rushing stream, desperately balancing the scope as he maneuvered the narrow trail.  We stop to inspect an old mine, hoping to spy hibernating rattlesnakes; to my disappointment and Dillon’s relief, the snakes seem to be sleeping in a protected area away from our prying eyes.

Having thoroughly explored the canyon, the three of us decide perhaps the orchards near the river may have attracted some birds.  Surely the combination of water, trees, and leftover fruit will produce something… anything!  We meandered through the apple trees, scanned the river repeatedly, stepped carefully around and over the bear scat, but still nothing.  Scott and I cannot remember a time when birds were completely absent.  And now the cold and silence are taking a toll on Dillon- he is getting understandably anxious and a bit bored.  Unwilling to let this moment pass and dampen the flame of a young birdwatcher, Scott and I continue to plod along.

Suddenly Dillon spots a flash of green across the river.  Training his binoculars on movement he declares, IT’S A BIRD!  No prettier words have ever been heard.  We all scan madly and come up with five Black-billed Magpies.  After almost two hours of empty skies and desolate habitat, no bird has every looked better.  Hopping, sailing, and yakking from pine to pine, the Magpies flash their iridescence in the pale winter light.  Dillon astonishes us with his scoping skills as he focuses on each Magpie so we can all enjoy a long look.  He quickly follows individuals with the scope as they fly along the cliff face above the Thompson River – a scoping feat that took me hours of practice to achieve.  Happy and chilled to the bone, we turn toward the path home.

No sooner had we quit “birdchasing” when Dillon spots another bird.  Quickly he picks up the silhouette perched on the pine with his Nikons; positions the scope precisely on the target; and proceeds to whip out the iPhone, scroll through the bird guide apps, and locate the page for Clark’s Nutcracker.  While he is delighting in playing the calls and viewing the range map, we spot more movement in the lone pine.  Sure enough, there is a Downy Woodpecker.  Dillon repeats his modern birding technique, bin scan, scope lock, and bird app.  It is a marvel to watch his focus, energy, skill, and enthusiasm.  A Northern Flicker joins the Downy and Nutcracker in this busy tree.  Never have so few species of birds provided such an incredible reward.  With four species under our belts and the cold taking a toll on all of us, we happily end our day of birdchasing.