In search of some redstarts and a few greenbacks

VIC LEIPZIG AND LOU MURRAY

Our local Sea and Sage chapter of the Audubon Society held its annual

fundraising event this past weekend, the Birdathon.

Vic and his team, which consisted of Peyton Cook and Tom Benson,

were the defending champs from 2004, both in number of species seen

and number of dollars raised. The pressure was on to retain both of

those titles.

A birdathon works a lot like a walkathon. People pledge money per

bird species instead of miles. The more species a team sees, the

more money it can raise -- assuming that the team members have

managed to extract sufficient pledges from their friends, family and

corporate sponsors.

Vic, Peyton and Tom work harder than most at getting pledges, but

to actually bring in the most money, they needed to see a lot of bird

species. Last year, they saw an incredible 177 species and raised

more than $4,000.

Birdathon rules give them 24 hours to identify all the birds in

Orange County that they can find. At least two people on the team

must see or hear the bird and correctly identify the species, and

they must bird together. They can’t fan out and work individually.

They also can’t use lookouts to stake out birds for them.

Birders are an honest lot, and stick closely to the rules. If they

sight a new species one minute after sundown on the closing day, they

can’t count it, but they can complain about it all they want. Stories

of what might have been abound on Birdathon day.

Out of the 200 to 230 species that might have been flying through

Orange County on a spring weekend like the one just past, Vic and his

team expected to find more than 150 of them. I’m very satisfied to

see 100 species in one day. To see more than that requires a lot of

skill at identifying birds by sound, a lot of savvy about where the

rare birds might be found, and some good strategy on which spots to

visit at what time of day.

Birdathon is far too stressful for me, and requires a level of

skill that I will never achieve. Birding begins at sunset on Friday,

and goes until after midnight, as birders look -- and listen -- for

owls, nighthawks and poorwills. After about three or four hours of

sleep, they get up well before dawn on Saturday to be at a birding

locale as soon as birds begin calling. They don’t quit until the

precise published time of sunset.

They don’t stop for meals and rarely take bathroom breaks. That

takes the joy out of Birdathon for me.

I joined the boys for the more fun scouting forays the week

before. I particularly enjoyed the scouting trip during which I got

to see some of the thousands of black-vented shearwaters that hunt

off the coast in Laguna Beach. They were unusually close to shore, so

I got a half-decent look at them through our birding scope.

These birds nest in underground burrows that they dig in the sandy

soil of Natividad Island off the coast of Baja.

Their numbers are dropping as domestic cats prey on the helpless

young in the burrows. The parents fly out to sea all day, returning

only at night to feed the young. Estimates of the remaining

population range from 60,000 to 152,000.

I also enjoyed meeting up with the boys at the end of the 24-hour

period for dinner, when they go over their lists, recount the

unexpected good finds and bemoan the lack of some obvious,

should-have-gotten birds. That’s the fun part.

The rest is sheer stress, with high-pressure, intense activity

that leaves them frazzled for a day or two afterward. Anyone who

thinks birding is a sissy sport should try competing in a birdathon.

The competition is intense and requires a high degree of skill at

finding and identifying birds by sight and sound, plus knowing where

to find them.

As usual, there were some wins and losses. They lucked out by

finding both parasitic and pomarine jaegers, two relatively

hard-to-find predatory seabirds. They also were lucky enough to not

only hear the rare grasshopper sparrow singing, but to see it perched

on a stem of grass. I could tell you where they found it, but that’s

a closely guarded secret of their birding strategy. I hate to think

what fate might befall me if I were to reveal this sparrow’s

location.

Naturally, they didn’t get all of the birds they were searching

for. They missed the American redstart they knew was hanging out in a

specific locale. And they didn’t get a green heron, or a number of

others that should have been relatively easy to find.

Part of Birdathon is skill and strategy, but luck plays a role

too. Missing easy birds always subjects the more skilled teams to

friendly derision from their competitors.

On Birdathon day, Vic’s team saw 166 species. That’s an impressive

number, but it wasn’t enough to put them in first place. They came in

second to Bruce Aird’s team, which got 177 species. It remains to be

seen if Vic’s team will be the top fundraisers, but so far it looks

good. If you’d like to donate, there is still time. Send Vic an

e-mail and he’ll tell you where to mail the check.

* VIC LEIPZIG and LOU MURRAY are Huntington Beach residents and

environmentalists. They can be reached at [email protected].