Christmas Bird Counting

My favorite part about the holidays has nothing to do with the holidays themselves. Sure, I enjoy pulling out my Christmas music to decorate the tree, watching people's faces light up when they receive my gifts, and spending time with family and friends that I rarely get to see, but the part that I look forward to the most is the time I spend with fellow birders on the holiday tradition known as the Christmas Bird Count.

It may sound like an odd holiday tradition, but the CBC as its called for short is one of the earliest movements toward bird conservation in this country, and has created the longest-running database of bird distribution in North America. The CBC was started in 1900 as an alternative to a long-standing tradition of hunting birds on Christmas Day, where the goal was to shoot as many birds as possible to win. An early conservationist realized that bird populations could not sustain such a tradition, and created the count tradition to draw people away from hunting the birds. Over the years the count has slowly spread across the country, with volunteers coming together to start their own count in communities nationwide. The National Audubon Society organizes the count each year, though the majority of the work is done by local count compliers who organize the volunteers in their own circle. The CBC is a volunteer-run effort to count birds within a predetermined area year after year between December 14th and January 5th to determine the presence and distribution of birds in circles across the continent. t. Count circles are 15 miles wide and are usually centered around a city in a way that includes both residential areas and birding hotspots, as both are equally important to determining how bird populations are adapting to changes in the landscape due to human activity.Thousands of birders commit to spending an entire day during the busy holiday season to help with the effort, and many birders partake in more than one count. Most volunteers commit to birding from dawn until dusk, with some eager birders even starting before dawn in the hopes of catching owls before first light. Volunteers are drawn to the count for a reason to get outside, the hopes of seeing an unusual species, and the fun of gathering with fellow birders at the end of the day. The number of volunteers in each circle varies greatly, but even in lesser populated areas at least a dozen birders can be expected to join the effort. When twelve birders spend 8 hours each looking for birds, it's amazing what kinds of species they often find. At the evening gatherings of volunteers that follow everyone is always eager to find out who had the biggest surprise, or the rarest bird, on that day.

Getting up at sunrise has its perks, this was the sunrise over Lake Champlain on the day of the Plattsburgh CBC

I've been participating in CBC's since I learned what one was, just after I graduated college in 1998. I remember how excited I was to get out and look for birds and contribute my findings to the long-running database. My first count was the Rennssalear CBC just outside of Albany, NY. I had recently joined the Hudson-Mohawk Bird Club, which was full of expert birders who were eager to share their birding skills with youngins like me. Many of the club members volunteered for the count, and were undoubtedly more skilled than I was at bird identifictation. I had only been birding for a little over a year, having taken ornithology in my junior year of college. But expert birding skills aren't needed to help with a CBC, since the majority of birds that one counts in the northeast are common feeder birds such as chickadees and house sparrows. Our best bird of the day was a Cooper's Hawk that we saw perched on a log with its lunch, a chickadee, in its talons. Not bad for a pair of beginner birders on their first CBC.

A Red-tailed Hawk on the Plattsburgh count

Since then I've participated in counts in a number of places in NY, but the ones I've participated in the most are the ones in Plattsburgh and Saranac Lake. These two counts are undoubtedly some of the coldest and snowiest counts in the U.S., and are not for less hardy souls. While much of the count can be accomplished from the warmth of a heated car, there is always walking to be done as well. This year's Plattsburgh CBC was the coldest one I've done yet, on December 18th, with a morning temperature of only 2 degrees. The temperature reached into the teens by mid-day, but the wind made sure we stayed nice and cold regardless. Cold snaps like that aren't the best for seeing birds, as many species would be less active on cold days, and some lingering migrants may finally push out as the cold front comes in. But it wasn't a bad day for me and my birding partner, as we managed to find 34 species that day, the most I've ever had on the Plattsburgh count. The species we found included 2 lingering loons, 5 bluebirds, a hardy Great-Blue Heron, and a flyover Plieated Woodpecker. The best bird of the day (and possibly of the whole count circle) was undoubtedly the Yellow-Rumped Warbler that we found in someone's front yard. Warblers are insectivores, and as such usually migrate south in late September and early October to places where the insects aren't frozen to death. In the 39 years of Plattsburgh counts this species has only been recorded one other time. The fact that it remains here now is likely due to the mild winter that we have had thus far, where I was seeing insects on my hikes as late as mid-November. But with the recent cold weather, I hope this little warbler has the sense to leave soon, as there won't be any insects around here for another few months.

Birders cover everywhere they can in the circle, including this airport
 in Charleston, SC, which was a good spot for grassland birds

When one gets up before dawn and spends an entire day birding one expects that they will be rewarded with good species of birds every time. In twelve years of CBC's I can assure you that for every exciting count I've done I've had another not-so-exciting count. One year I spent the day snowshoeing 7 miles in a snowstorm for the Saranac Lake CBC, only to have a total of 8 species for the entire day, the fewest I've ever had. Due to it being one of the coldest places in the continental U.S. the Saranac Lake CBC has less diversity that most counts, and most years I count between 15-20 species in my territory. On the Plattsburgh count I usually have a twenty-something species. The most exciting count I ever did was last year, when my work had me in South Carolina during CBC season. Having only ever done CBC's in upstate NY, counting birds in an area where all the birds migrate to for the winter was a completely different experience--there were birds everywhere and I could feel my fingers the whole time! At the end of the day we had 76 species, and for me every one of them was exciting. We birded in a variety of places including a residential development, an airport, and a saltmarsh along the river. There were so many birds it was a challenge to count all of them, and I'm sure that a few were missed. In NY that never happens, as birds are usually seen in small numbers and the only challenge is determining how big the flock of chickadees is every time you hear one calling. As much as I love helping with the counts in my own community, I hope I can get away to do another warm-weather count in the future.


While most people will be ringing in the new year recovering from the prior night's festivities, I'll be ringing it in with, you guessed it, counting birds. The Saranac Lake CBC is on New Year's Day this year, and I'll be out there at sunrise looking for birds. This year should be a good count, and I have a feeling that I'll break my Saranac Lake CBC record this year (which is only 17 species) with the amount of ducks that are still hanging around and the number of finch species that have invaded the north country this year. I'm excited that the forecast is calling for temperatures in the 30's, which is warmer than most counts I can remember. And the best part, what I look forward to most, is being able to see all my birder friends afterward, in a gathering of merriment where we share birding stories from the past year as well as the day's adventures. In a world where birders are a rarity themselves, I always enjoy being surrounded by people with the same passion as me, who will laugh at my bird stories because they understand. It's a fitting end to the holiday season, and I'll anxiously look forward to next year.

Hurricane Mountain

The firetower on Hurricane Mtn.

In an effort to keep my hikes close to home I've done a number of small hikes in the past week, almost all of which have been in or adjacent to the Hurricane Mountain Primitive Forest. For those of you unfamiliar with the terminology of forest units within the Adirondack Forest Preserve, the term "primitive forest" is used to describe an area that has most of the qualifications of wilderness, but  cannot classified as wilderness due to the presence of man-made structures within the unit. The presence of a fire tower, built in the early 1900's, is the key reason for the area's designation as "primitive" rather than "wild". Firetowers are a controversial subject in the Adirondacks, causing an endless debate over whether they should be preserved for historical reasons, restored for recreational use, or removed to return the area to a "forever wild" state. I, myself, don't really have an opinion on this matter, as I see valid points from each side of the argument. Part of me supports the idea of keeping the Adirondacks as wild as possible, but another part of me recognizes that the fire towers are a key part of Adirondack history. A few years ago I helped with the restoration of the fire tower on Lyon Mtn., one of the few towers that are still maintained for public use. So I really can't pick a side on this issue, and tend to think there are far more important issues in the Adirondacks that we should worry about.

A dusting of snow on the old logging road

On some mountains a fire tower is necessary in order to obtain a 360 degree view of the surrounding peaks, but on Hurricane Mt. no tower is needed for an amazing view. Many summits in the Hurricane Mtn. forest are bare rock at the top, a result of forest fires that ravaged the area in 1908, burning  20% of the forest preserve. The advantage to this is that many of these mountains, despite being only 2500-3500 feet high, offer astounding views of the greater mountain ranges around it. From the summit of Hurricane one can see the Jay Mtn. range, Giant Mtn. Wilderness, the Great Range, Whiteface Mtn., and the Green Mountains. Unfortunately the day that I chose to climb the peak last week afforded little in the way of a view, as a cold front of clouds and snow came rolling through as we made the ascent. The view was still impressive though, creating an ethereal view of Giant Mtn. as an island in a sea of clouds that would come and go as the clouds rolled past. While being able to see hundreds of peaks is always rewarding, there is something equally exhilarating about being in the clouds, surrounded in mist, watching a front roll in. Hurricane Mtn. tends to live up to its name by being extremely windy due to its isolation from other peaks, as I've experienced the other two times I've visited. But on this day the wind was calm, just an occasional light breeze pushing the clouds through, adding to the surreal feeling of being in the clouds. While we sat at the top a light snow began to fall, leaving a slight dusting on the trees that we admired on our way down the mountain. While I've always preferred any other season over winter, days like that are giving me a new appreciation for the season.

Ethereal view of Giant from Hurricane Mtn.

There are three ways to ascend Hurricane--Crow Clearing, Route 9N, and Hurricane Mtn. Road. We chose the Hurricane Mtn. Road route, the least popular of the three. This trail starts on private land and traverses an old logging road for about a mile before it starts to climb. The trail was a little slick in spots due to ice, but overall very manageable. There was a large amount of fallen trees along the trail, some of which looked fresh from hurricane Irene, and some of which is probably from the ice storm of 1998. Whatever the cause, they had all since been cleared from the trail itself leaving no obstacles to climb over. Another friend of mine hiked the Route 9N trail the next day, the most popular route, and reported that it was very wet. Last year I hiked in from Crow Clearing, and I think this is the most scenic route. The trail crosses back and forth across a stream for much of the way before ascending through a thick balsam forest up to the summit. From this same parking area there are three other shorter hikes that can be added to a trip up Hurricane, or done on their own. Last year I hiked to Lost Pond after ascending Hurricane, a small picturesque pond perched on the side of the mountain. Yesterday I returned to that area to hike to Big Crow, a short but steep hike to an exposed rocky summit that overlooks Keene and the Great Range. It was another overcast day, but breaks of sun shone light on the valley below and made the ice-coated trees on the summit shimmer, creating some great opportunities for photos. From there one can continue to hike to Little Crow, about 400 feet below, but I chose not to do so yesterday because much of the bare rock descending Big Crow was covered in ice, making footing challenging.

View from Big Crow Mtn.

Hurricane Mtn. from Owl Head Lookout

One advantage to keeping the firetower on Hurricane is that it makes the peak easily recognizable from the top of other peaks. Last week I easily identified Hurricane from the summits of Baxter Mtn. and Owl Head lookout, two peaks that lie in the Giant Mtn. wilderness just beside Hurricane. Even though the firetower no longer serves a purpose, as its use was discontinued in the 1970's, it plays a part in the character of Hurricane Mountain, and I'm not sure the mountain would be the same without it.

Backyard Birds

Okay, I have to admit that I haven't been hiking at all this past week, leaving me at a loss for adventures to blog about. But that's okay, because I've been waiting for the right time to write about the wildlife oasis that is my backyard, because there have been many memorable moments right outside my dining room window. My backyard has numerous attractions to wildlife--a flowing stream, open fields, shrubs for cover, an adjacent wilderness area, fruit trees, perennial flowers, and plenty of bird feeders. Most days I can see more birds here than I would see if I hiked ten miles through the forest, so you can't blame me for choosing to relax at home once in a while and watch the birds from the comfort of my warm home. I can reliably expect a good number of species here, and once in a while I'm met with some surprises.

A Black-capped Chickadee that I banded

I suppose I should start with the species that have become regular visitors to the yard, some of which I've grown rather fond of since moving here last year. Each morning starts with the chickadees, who arrive just after sunrise each morning in a small flock, taking turns at the feeder (they do, in fact, have a pecking order when it comes to feeding). Chickadees come and go in small flocks throughout the day, making it impossible to know how many there are. The only way to really count them is to capture them and band them, a project I started last week. Using a fine mesh net called a mist net I captured three of my resident chickadees last week and gave them each a shiny bracelet with a USFWS number so they can be tracked if caught again. I've seen at least two of them revisit the feeder, and suspect that there may be dozens more for me to band. That'll be a good project for me this winter.

The next birds to visit are usually the Blue Jays, which loudly announce their presence, and usually only stay at the feeder for a short while each morning and again in the afternoon. Occasionally we will see a woodpecker at the suet, usually a Hairy Woodpecker. I've seen Pileated Woodpeckers in the yard, always a magnificent sight, but they're a little big for my small suet feeder. Lately the only other regular species has been a small flock of American Goldfinches, who like to sit on the feeder's perches and gorge themselves on sunflower seeds.

The Gray Catbird, feasting on crabapples

The regulars are a welcome sight at the feeders, but what really makes this yard exciting is the surprising rarites that pass through. Last week I was sitting at my computer when I heard a familiar meow-like call from outside, which was coming from an appropriately-named Gray Catbird that was sitting in my crabapple tree. Gray Catbirds are rather common birds of shrubby areas in more southern parts of the state, but in the Adirondacks they are an uncommon sight. Seeing one at the end of November is a very rare sight, and it's likely that this was a young bird that flew a little off course from it's migration route south. The confused bird stayed in the yard for five days, then disappeared when a cold snap came through. Hopefully it put on enough weight eating my crabapples to make the rest of its journey.

A Ruffed Grouse surprised me this evening

A few days before the catbird arrived I had a visit from a Ruffed Grouse, who was likely also attracted to the berries on my crabapple tree. In my experience crabapple trees are by far the best way to attract birds to the yard, as I have had a number of rare birds in that tree. Last winter the tree was picked clean by flocks of Cedar Waxwings and Bohemian Waxwings, who depend on trees that bear fruit in winter as their main food source. One day last year the alarm calls of Blue Jays alerted me to a Northern Shrike that was perched in the crabapple tree, a predatory bird that is seen in small numbers here in winter, and rarely seen in backyards. It was likely looking to pick off one of the chickadees or goldfinches from the feeders, but the Blue Jays drove it off as soon as it arrived. This was definitely the most exciting bird I've seen in the yard, and wish I had time to snap a photo before it left.

A Bohemian Waxwing in the crabapple tree last winter

The Black Squirrel

While the birds come and go, there are a variety of mammals that have become regular visitors here as well. A herd of deer is often seen in the fields behind the house, and they cross through the yard to reach the stream down below. A few weeks ago they were in the yard a few nights eating some of the fallen fruit from an apple tree that I have on the edge of the woods. We have excellent rodent diversity here, with at least four species living in or near the yard. There are chipmunks, mice (who are unfortunately sighted inside the house too), red squirrels, and gray squirrels. The star attraction of the yard is a female "black" squirrel that visits almost daily, which is an uncommon color morph of a gray squirrel. She usually visits the feeders just before or after a male gray squirrel visits, so I assume that they are a mated pair. They disappeared for most of the summer, off raising young I assume, but returned about a month ago and have been seen under the birdfeeders daily ever since.


As I write I can hear the chip notes of chickadees outside, an almost constant sound this time of year. The crabapple tree is still full of bright red berries, awaiting its next visitor. There haven't been any sightings of waxwings yet this winter, so I'm not sure if they'll come down from the north this year. I'm hoping to see a Pine or Evening Grosbeak in the tree this year, since they are predicted to come south this winter. Stay posted for the next rare sighting...