Thursday, March 14, 2024

Book Review: The (Big) Year That Flew By

The (Big) Year That Flew By:  Twelve Months, Six Continents and the Ultimate Birding Record by Arjan Dwarshuis, translated by Els Vanbrabant.  English translation copyright 2023 published by Chelsea Green Publishing.  

This book also includes a forward by Mark Obmascik, author of The Big Year:  A Tale of Man, Nature and Fowl Obsession.  Many readers are likely to have read Mark Obmascik's book, or at least have seen the movie.

I've read all three of the most recent big year books that I am aware of.   I published my review of Dorian Anderson's Birding Under the Influence on November 24, 2023 and linked my reviews of Noah Strycker's Birding Without Borders (December 2017) and his earlier book The Thing with Feathers (September 2017) at the end of Dorian's book review.  When I recently purchased a couple of new field guides (flycatchers of NA and terns of NA), I noticed Arjan Dwarshuis's big year book in the same link and thought, why not, I'll purchase this book, too.  I just finished reading Arjan's book last night.

Dorian Anderson's big year cycling around the United States was completed in December 2014.  Noah Strycker's worldwide big year was completed in December 2015.  Immediately upon Noah completing his worldwide trip, Arjan Dwarshuis from Scheveningen, Netherlands set out to break Noah's record in 2016.  So, three years in a row, there was a flurry of big year birding going on.  It was easy for me to follow Dorian's and Noah's nightly blog entries during their big years and reading their blogs was how I ended each night. Arjan's communiques were harder to keep track of, at least for me, from this side of the Atlantic.  So, I was pleased to see that he had published a book about his 2016 experience.  This is my review of his The (Big) Year That Flew By.

To achieve what Anderson, Strycker and Dwarshuis each achieved requires highly evolved skill, grit, determination, effort and, perhaps most importantly, confidence.  As nearly as I can tell, all three individuals met these criteria and, where confidence was required, all three individuals excelled.  

After all of this introduction, I'll start by writing that I really liked Arjan Dwarshuis's The (Big) Year That Flew By.  It's a gripping page turner.  But, I also have criticisms.  Hopefully, my criticism is balanced.  I also recognize that my criticism may be more personal in its orientation and comes from a fair amount of European travel (not as much as some, but more than others) in the past couple of decades.  

Arjan's approach to detailing his big year is to write about environment as much as he writes about birds, and he intertwines the two.  It's not that most readers are unaware of the things he writes about - increasing population, poverty, chopping down the rainforest, agriculture, the drug trade, illegal trafficking in bird and animal species, illegal mining, water pollution, desertification and the impact of climate change - you name it. In pithy paragraphs and segments Dwarshuis writes how all of these things are impacting the human (especially the indigenous people in many countries), bird, animal and plant populations everywhere in the world.  With each bird sighting he selects to write about, he describes its struggle to survive.  He writes with clarity and knowledge.  Even though I consider myself an aware individual, I learned so much, especially at the grass roots level.  Many of the situations are dire.  We don't always hear or read of the details of things far away.  When there is evidence of hopefulness or reason for hope, Dwarshuis writes about it.  Some if it seems so small and one can question and worry, how will this make a difference?  Dwarshuis's response is that we are a part of the answer and we cannot shirk our responsibility.

Dorian Anderson wrote about this; indeed, it was a significant part of his biking big year.  Though I don't recall this as a theme in his book, Noah Strycker is also surely aware.  But, Europeans, I think, are way ahead of us in awareness and urgency for these issues. When you read Arjan Dwarshuis's book, your awareness will be shaken from its slumber.

Dwarshuis does not hold back in other ways.  He lets his thoughts and feelings be known and he does not hesitate to let his reader know what he thinks.

Arjan and his friend, Max, are in Danum Valley, Sabah, Malaysia (page 41) when they are surrounded by a herd of Bornean pygmy elephants. Afraid of a stampede, they climb a lookout tower for safety. From their elevated perch they can monitor the situation. Below them they see two women taking selfies with the elephants. Arjan and his friend cannot believe this.  "One wrong move and the women are dead."  When it becomes too dark to take photos the women walk away from the elephants.  Arjan and Max need another two hours before they are able to climb down from the tower and get a lift from a passing 4x4.  Back in their lodge dining hall, they run into the two women.  Arjan is clearly irritated with the women.  "Do you know how dangerous that was?" he asks them.  The women dismiss his concern, and he notes their "heavy" California accents, (the quotes around heavy are mine; I am not aware of a California accent of any kind), to which they respond, "We are good with elephants.  We always get on fine with them at the San Diego Zoo."  He opens his mouth to start a discussion (page 42), but then realizes that this would be the same as "talking to a wall."  Many will disagree, but my two word translation of Arjan's thoughts on this exchange are:  Stupid Americans.  Why was the "talking to a wall" language of this experience necessary?  Allow readers to make up their own minds.  In this instance, his opinion and judgement did not matter.  But this alone doesn't fully explain the depth of Arjun's judgement or, rather, his lack of judgement.

A few pages earlier, Arjan and his friend Max are in Kaeng Krachan National Park, Phetchaburi, Thailand (page 35) and sleeping in a tent when Arjan thinks he is dreaming that he hears a Bay Owl.  He wakes up and realizes he's not dreaming.  He wakes Max and, so as not to waste time, they jump into their swimming trunks (yes, swimming trunks) and walk in slippers (yes, slippers) to the edge of the forest. Arjan says to Max [defiantly] "this could be our only chance" [to see the Bay Owl].  Armed with a flashlight and binoculars (page 36), "we walk into the pitch-dark rainforest in our slippers."  Thorns tear at their skin and insects sting them.  They come close to the owl but five games of hide and seek are needed to see it.  They do, finally, get excellent close looks.  When it comes time to take leave of the Bay Owl, Arjan realizes that he has no directional sense of where they are.  Fortunately, his friend Max has a better sense of orientation and they are able to find their way back to the tent.  The next day, Arjan acknowledges that their effort the night before had been "quite reckless."  "If I had known this, I would have stayed put.  But, then again, there probably wouldn't be a Bay Owl on my list right now."  So, he must have forgotten this recklessness when he wanted to give a dressing down to the women taking selfies with the elephants.  Indeed, had they not found their way back to their tent, they would not be the first birders to disappear in a rainforest.  So the carelessness of seeing the Bay Owl was not unlike the women's carelessness with taking selfies with the elephants.  It seems he does not connect the dots.  Now my reading was sensitized and I found other less overt examples of where Arjan's personal ambitions bumps into his personal animosities.  It's my own travels that have alerted me to these sensitivities.  Others may be unlikely to notice.  Of note, their escapade occurred on February 1st, and his list reveals that they saw species #817, the Oriental Bay Owl (Phodilus badius), and that Arjan even carried his camera and got a photo.   

Arjan zigzags his big year with segments of his childhood evolution as a birder in Scheveningen, Netherlands.  Back and forth.  I'm not sure this worked for me, but it clearly seemed important to him.  His Scheveningen stories were often charming and funny (he once skipped school and a math exam to go with friends to see Pine Grosbeaks.  He was caught by his math teacher who scolded him, but also encouraged him to be honest if such an opportunity arose again).  I usually enjoy this style of narration but, for some reason, the childhood stories were also a distraction.  Had he not included so many of these, perhaps he could have included more big year stories.

He does not write at all about what month or date it is.  Very occasionally he lets the reader know that it's March or July or day #315. Likewise, it is difficult to know his species count.  From time-to-time, he lets us know what number his count has reached, but unless he is comparing his progress to where Noah was during his big year there is no other context.

Of his dips, for Me the most moving was in Andasibe-Mantadia National Park, Moramanga, Madagascar.  Here, in horrible weather and terrible birding conditions, he pursues his search for one bird, the Helmet Vanga .  He had forgotten his packed lunch and water bottle and was out the whole day without food or drink.  It rained the entire time.  At the end of the day he is so demoralized and discouraged, it nearly does him in.  In Madagascar he also participates in the local corruption when he is forced to pay a bribe to an airport official.  

In the final pages of his big year he goes from Sax-Zim Bog in Minnesota where he dips on Great Gray Owl to Pinnacles National Park in California where he scores seeing the California Condor.  Then it's New Year's Day and he is in Da Lat, Vietnam.  Huh?  It's pouring rain and they are out looking for Grey-crowned Crocias (successfully) and his friend, Tjeerd, is incredulous when he exclaims to Arjan, "This is the worse weather you've had in 366 days?"  Again, huh?  Yes, by this point in the book I had forgotten about the leap year thing.  But somehow it was also New Year's Day.  Wouldn't his big year have ended at midnight on New Year's Eve?  Throughout the book it was sort of like this.  I couldn't keep track and just went with the flow.

In all of these big year experiences, I am struck by the level of record and note keeping that is required; first to count your birds properly but secondly, and just as importantly, to keep your location and story straight.  This takes time and attention to detail.  Arjan was frequently exhausted and sleep deprived, but he seems to have surprised himself when he writes at the end, "I have not been sick for one day this year."  By the end of the year, he had seen 6,833 species and then later added "19 species that he had forgotten" to bring his grand total to 6,852.  Noah Strycker used the Clements classification system for his 6,042 species seen and this is detailed beautifully in appendices 2 and 3 (pages 266-318) in Birding Without Borders.  Arjan Dwarshuis used the International Ornithological Committee (IOC) classification system.  Had he used Clements his species count would have been far fewer, but still higher than Noah's. His list is not included in his book but pages 233 and 234 include a comprehensive list of resources where we find the website he used to publish his list.  Of note, you will find his personal website here and this will also link you to his Instagram account.

In 2014 Dorian Anderson rode his bike over 17,800 miles to shed his personal demons and to forge a new path for himself.  His enormous effort yielded 618 bird species sighted.  He was essentially alone for his whole trip.  To my knowledge his is still the only North American big year on a bicycle attempted and completed.  In 2015 Noah Strycker, realizing he could exceed the numbers listed for prior worldwide birding adventures, was at a time in his life where a worldwide big year was calling his name. He set an arbitrary number of 5,000 bird species to see and exceeded this by over a 1,000 species.  

My final comment is of the story behind The (Big) Year That Flew By.  Arjan Dwarshuis writes that his planning had begun for a 2015 worldwide big year when he learned from a friend's text message of an American birder's (Noah's) plans for a worldwide big year in 2015 (page 13).  He writes, "There were two options left to me:  I could throw in the towel now, or I could go a step further.  I decided to go for option two".  That is, he delays.  It's unclear about why "throwing in the towel now" was even an option.  Throughout the book Arjan's competitive spirit is on full display.  He clearly benefitted from having Noah's record to chase and, in the only footnote of the book (page 6), he writes "I deliberately chose a leap year since it gave me an extra day."  So, which was it?  Had he really planned to do his big year in 2015?  All that work and planning thrown out the window just because another birder had planned the same?  But the opportunity to break a record must have been very inviting (and, coincidentally, 2016 was a leap year).  This might have been an even more interesting story had he not delayed.

Picayune observation.  Dwarshuis's book is a riveting read and will keep you turning the pages.  Who knows, another birder may be inspired to try to break Arjan's record.

In reading all of these books, I have come to the conclusion that it is not the number of species seen with such endeavors.  It's the individual experiences, stamina and determination that make the story.  But then, I'm the reader, not the competitor. 

Now will Peter Kaestner write his book on being the first birder to see *10,000 bird species?  My fingers are crossed.  With an Orange-Tufted Spiderhunter, Birder Breaks Record for Sightings by Joe Trezza, published in the New York Times, March 11, 2024. 

* Peter Kaestner also uses the IOC checklist for his life bird list.  


Afterward:  There has now been a digiscoping big year record by Jeff Bouton of Kowa Optics.  Nate Swick interviews Jeff Bouton for the March 14, 2024 The American Birding Podcast.  Not sure how serious they were; listeners can decide what they think.

Thursday, March 7, 2024

Puerto Rican Tody

No, this is not my bird and these are not my photos.  And, I have never seen this bird myself, but it is high on my wish list.  In the days before digital cameras, I did see Cuban todys and, since then, the tody is one of my favorite birds (if such a thing is even possible).  A good friend, and casual birder, visits Puerto Rico annually and his most recent visit was at the end of January.  He hikes, walks the beaches and enjoys the food and night life.  Prior to his departure we had lunch together and I reminded him to be on the look out for the Puerto Rican tody.  I pulled the vocalization up on my phone and we listened a couple of times.  I reminded him, when you hear that sound, look for the bird.  This was not the first time I mentioned the tody to him, so I kind of forgot about it after that.  However, about 3-4 days into his trip, I received the following photos taken with his phone while hiking along a wooded trail.  These are two different birds (maybe four different birds; my friend could not clarify).  The top photo is a male, in the 2nd photo a female tody seems possible, the 3rd photo is a male and in the 4th photo it's unclear if male or female.  So maybe two pairs, but maybe not.      





 Charming bird!

I am halfway through reading The (Big) Year That Flew By:  Twelve Months, Six Continents and the Ultimate Birding Record by Arjan Dwarshuis.  I'm a slow reader, so give me a bit of time but this is a big year book that I definitely want to write a review for.  Hopefully, on my next blog entry.

Saturday, February 24, 2024

I loved this bird: Flaco the Owl

Flaco is dead.  I loved this bird and his story from the moment I heard it.

Flaco, Escaped Central Park Zoo Owl and Defier of Doubts, Is Dead, by Ed Shanahan, published in the New York Times, February 23, 2024.

Let loose by an act of vandalism, the Eurasian eagle-owl died after apparently striking an Upper West Side building according to the zoo.


Flaco was freed from the Central Park Zoo by a vandal in February 2023, and his subsequent sightings captivated New York City.

Today, Feb 24th, in the NYT Opinion column The Point:  A Farewell to Flaco, the Ultimate New Yorker, by Zeynep Tufekci

Other Flaco NYT articles

1.  Just this past February 2nd, the NYT published this about Flaco's year of freedom:  The Year Flaco the Owl Roamed Free, by Ed Shanahan, first published February 2, 2024 and updated on February 24, 2024.

2.  Most recently the NYT updated Flaco's followers with:  The Ballad of Flaco, the Outlaw Who Learned to Fly, by Michiko Kakutani, published in the New York Times on February 2, 2024.

3.  Approximately one month after Flaco's escape:  Everyone Loves Flaco the Escaped Owl.  But Why, Exactly?  By Michiko Kakutani, published in the New York Times on March 3, 2023.

4.  On the day following Flaco's death:  Flaco's Crash Might Have Been More Than Bad Luck.  Here's Why, by Catrin Einhorn, published in the New York Times on February 24, 2024.

5.  A little touchy-feely but, unless the full necropsy is reported, this is the end of Flaco's New York story:  New York Mourns Flaco, an Owl Who Inspired as He Made the City His Own, by Ed Shanahan, published in the New York Times on February 24, 2024. 

6.  Well, I was wrong.  Today another NYT op-ed about Flaco popped up:  Like Many a Hero, Flaco the Owl Made His Choice, by Carl Safina, an ecologist at the State University of New York at Stony Brook, published in the New York Times, Opinion Guest Essay, February 26, 2026.  There are many ways that Flaco reminded us of the possibilities life offers and encouraged us.  This essay includes the unedited photo of the one I included above.  Fabulous to see the full photo.

7.  I forgot about Flaco sources other than the New York Times.  On today's, March 7, 2024, ABA podcast, Protecting Plovers in NYC with Chris Allieri, host Nate Swick offers his op-ed about Flaco that I both agree and disagree with.  I do think, however, scientists, ornithologists and naturalists overwhelmingly agree with Nate.  I like metaphors so I am okay with the metaphor of Flaco choosing freedom over captivity to became a symbol for many New Yorkers that identified with his plight as an immigrant to New York City.  However, Nate also explained something that I didn't know.  Apparently, Flaco enthusiasts (New Yorkers/birders/others?) interfered with Flaco's recapture by the Central Park Zoo officials.  The photos and text I saw and read made it appear that Flaco spurned recapture by not entering a cage with frozen mice.  Was one year of freedom and early death vs. his first 14 years in zoo captivity worth it?  Nate adds to the voices that knew it was never going to turn out well for Flaco and disavows the anthropomorphism that people attached to Flaco.  The interview with Chris Allieri about the NYC Piping Plover project is also excellent.     

The photographs in all of these articles are charming and, some, are photographically spectacular.

Monday, January 1, 2024

Belle Isle to start 2024

Bird of the morning:  Hooded Merganser.  I think I eBirded 78, and that may be a slight undercount.

A walk around the nature trail, now called the the Iron Belle (?) trail, was eerily quiet.  I saw one American goldfinch and a pair of mallards and heard one downy woodpecker.  This means no seen woodpeckers, no blue jays, no cardinals and no robins.  

I put a (?) following Iron Belle because I have absolutely no idea where that name comes from.  Maybe it has to do with being an industrial city park?

These signposts are new since my last visit and are spread all along the trail.  The red one on the bottom - No Bikes.  I couldn't believe, but was so happy, to see it.  Long overdue.  I'm sure people will still sneak their bikes on, but at least now something can be said.  I have had so many close shaves with cyclists on the trail.  Looking up with bins and suddenly hear, "ON YOUR LEFT; ON YOUR LEFT".  That kind of shouting really startles.  All those bike lanes all around the park and they had to ride on the nature trail.  No more - at least not legally.

Belle Isle has been under construction since at least 2017.  As I watched the birds and other wildlife disappear, I was highly critical.  However, it appears that they have enlarged wildlife habitat and it seems that much of it will be inaccessible to the casual visitor.  That's a good change.  Hopefully the birds and other wildlife will return. 


During my last visit the muddy area beyond the yellow pole (another addition to the entrances of the nature trail) was full of construction debris.  It has all been removed and is now neatly plowed over.


This piece remained behind hidden in the grass at the edge of the trail.  I thought there could be a good chance it would remain there for the rest of its natural life.  I tested the weight and found that it was not too heavy.  So I pulled it out of the grass and dragged it to lean against a nearby utility pole.  Will see if it's still there when I next visit.  I think it will be.


Mallards

This might be the beaver den.  I have never seen it look like this but I can't think what else it could be.

The second bridge is gone.

The main bridge is unchanged.

Blue Jay

Canada Geese in the softball fields.

Hooded merganser is such an attractive bird.


The starlings were driving into the trash can and popping out again.

Above and below: Ring-billed gull


Female hooded merg.

The botanical gardens glasshouse is completely covered with some kind of protective scaffolding.  It appears to be more for protection - perhaps for cleaning and repair.  This will be beautiful when completed.

I drove all around the park and, for the first time since 2017, I did not see one piece of earth-moving or other construction machinery.  With the car race now run elsewhere for the first time is so many years we may finally have our jewel of a park returned to visitors.  On this cold January morning there were quite a few visitors.  A great place to get outdoors on New Year's Day.      

 

Sunday, December 17, 2023

Two birds, 20 bucks

I had to really talk myself into going.  The birds were being reported daily on the eBird alerts.  Then, last Wednesday, the morning came bright and sunny and I didn't have anything pressing to do.  Okay, this is the day.

The first problem, even on a quiet Wednesday morning with not much going on.  No easily found parking.  The Zone parking can be tricky because of the machines.  I found a spot in Zone 106, but the machine didn't work.  I had already paid one parking ticket this past summer because I operated the machine incorrectly.  Every structure was un-manned with a giant QR code to scan.  Really?  I don't know about anyone else, but I've seen enough QR codes to last me the rest of my life.

Finally, I found a lot on Layafette Street with a real live man operating it and to whom I could pay $20 for a full day - even though I didn't need a full day.  But that allowed me to relax and even have lunch afterwards.  

I did a quick loop around Campus Martius.  Nothing.  Well, the ovenbird had been reported at Cadillac Square park so I walked across the street. Almost immediately, I found the tiny Lincoln's Sparrow (Melospiza lincolnii), hanging out with house sparrows along Cadillac Square St. It was so much smaller than the house sparrows, it would have been hard to miss.  It was chasing the house sparrows around trying to steal the bread they found.  I wish the photo above was in focus.   

Here it is in the middle of the road where it found its own crumbs to nibble.

With the house sparrow hoarding it's bread.




Along the curbside.

Next came the Ovenbird.  I carefully walked around Campus Martius seeing only house sparrows and not even many of those.  I noticed a grassy and weedy boulevard just south of Campus Martius.  I crossed the street at a zebra crossing and slowly walked the path through the middle of the green space.  I wasn't seeing any birds.  Then, suddenly, I saw a small bird with tail cocked move into a clump of bushes.  The Ovenbird (Seiurus aurocapilla)!  








All of my photos from the morning were poor.  I deleted well over half of those I took of each bird.  I wasn't expecting to take beautiful photos.  Neither bird was in that kind of habitat.  Mostly the photos were for my documentation.  Lincoln's Sparrow is one of my favorite migrant sparrows; so elegant appearing with its dainty markings.  Ovenbirds are always special.  A birding acquaintance from many years ago used to give a talk on urban birding.  Not uncommonly an Overbird gets stranded in downtown Detroit each autumn.     

I stopped for lunch at Layafette Coney Island and when I got back to the parking lot, I told the attendant that my $20 was well worth it.  He looked at me a little weirdly and seemed amused; of course he did, a lady with clunky camera and binoculars.  Please.

Monday, December 4, 2023

Hoping to see a murmuration

My cousin sent me this video.  This autumn I seem to be seeing a larger number of European Starlings amassing that I recall seeing in recent prior autumns of the year.  Of course, I am hoping that a murmuration occurs.  So far, no luck. 


“It’s the season I often mistake / Birds for leaves, and leaves for birds,” the U.S. Poet Laureate Ada Limón writes of autumn. In fall, a flocking movement in the sky, or in the trees, can mean either kind of marvelous flying thing.

Love Letter to a Season I Never Loved When I Was Young, Margaret Renkl, New York Times, December 4, 2023.


Least Bittern in November

I took my first series of photos of the well-seen November Least Bittern that were marginally better, but the date was wrong on my camera (defaults to January 1, 2017).  Fixed that and took these marginal second series of photos.  




I don't know the best explanation for why a least bittern would be on the edges of Lake Erie in November.  Delayed?  Misdirected during southward migration?  Lost?  

I sort of like the delayed cause since we have had, by and large, a very mild autumnal season and least bittern is a nesting bird in the area.   Secondary to climate charge, we know that some bird species are moving northward slowly; why not the corollary explanation for autumnal movement southward?