One Lost Common Pochard and Dozens of Lost Birders on Lake Champlain

This past week has turned out to be one of the most exciting weeks for birding that I've had in a long while, even more exciting than the four Christmas Bird Counts that I did in December. The experiences of the past week have inspired me to write not only about birds, but about the little understood pastime of "birding" as well. To this point I've focused this blog mainly on hiking and birding from a naturalist's point of view, but for this entry I'm going to remove my naturalist hat and put on my "birder" hat, which has gotten a little dusty in recent years.

To preface this blog I think a few terms, including "birder", may need some clarification. Birdwatching has become a very popular hobby in recent years, and refers to anyone who has a general interest in birds. Many birdwatchers spend most of their hobby admiring common backyard birds, such as the chickadees and cardinals that visit their feeding stations. Some birdwatchers learn most or all the species in the area they live in, by sight or by call, and keep a list of the birds they see. Avid birdwatchers know the species where they live and may travel to see new species as well, keeping lists wherever they go and reporting their sightings to other birdwatchers or on-line databases such as e-bird. An avid birdwatcher takes the time to seek out birds for the pure enjoyment of them, admiring even the most common birds, usually as part of another outdoor activity such as hiking or kayaking. A "birder" takes it one step further, turning the hobby of birdwatching into a sport that can sometimes be competitive. Listing birds become more complicated and breaks into multiple lists such as life list (master list of species seen in a lifetime), state list (species seen within the state), county list (species seen within the county in which the birder resides), and year list (species seen in each given year so that a new list can be started with the new year). Birders are driven by listing, always looking for a species to add to one or more of their lists. Some birders compare their lists with others via birding clubs, a select few strive to have the biggest lists of all. Each year there are dozens if not hundreds of people chasing birds in the name of having a "Big Year"--seeing more birds than anyone else in a given state or even the entire country in one year (last year a movie called "The Big Year" was released, a comedy about birders doing just that). Birders never stop birdwatching, our eyes are always on the sky and our ears are always listening for calls. While everyone else is eating lunch at the family picnic a birder is tuned to the calls of the half-dozen  species of birds in the nearby trees, or watching a sparrow hop around the bushes. We've seen all the common species, most of the uncommon species, and are always hoping to see a rare species. "Rare" has it's own series of classifications, the American Bird Association rates how rare a bird is with a 1-6 scale, with code 6 being the rarest (and virtually meaning the species is thought to be extinct). The internet makes it easier than ever to hear about rare species, as there is a code of ethics among birders to share rare bird reports with others, which they can now do within seconds via smartphones.

For a better explanation of
birding just rent this movie

The most extreme of all the birders, the ones competing with other birders, will do just about anything to see a really rare bird. A competitive birder will skip work and drive 300 miles if a code 5 bird is reported. A select few with the means to do so will even hop on a plane to see a bird that hasn't been seen in the U.S. in 20 years. I consider myself a birder and a fairly competitive person, but I don't consider myself a competitive birder. When a rarity is reported I carefully weigh such factors as the likelihood that I will see it and how much gas money it would cost me. Generally I only look for rarities within an hour of where I live, which may happen once or twice a year. Luckily for me the rarest bird in the United States this week according to the ABA website was located less than an hour away--a Common Pochard on Lake Champlain. While it only has an ABA rare bird rating of 3 because a breeding population in Alaska uncommonly appears on the west coast, it is only the second sighting in history of the bird being seen in the eastern U.S., though the species is widespread in Europe and Asia. Seemed worth the gas money to me.

Juvenile Glaucous Gull, like the one seen at Crown Point

The bird was first reported Wednesday, so on Thursday I convinced a friend of mine to skip work (as birders do) to go look for the bird. The bird was first spotted from the new Crown Point bridge in a raft of thousands of ducks that spend the winter on Lake Champlain. In addition to the Pochard there were also reports of many other uncommon species, such as Tufted Ducks and Barrow's Goldeneye, both of which are also Eurasian species that are regularly found mixed in with more common like species like Common Goldeneye and Ring-necked Ducks. There were also reports of a Glaucous Gull, which would be a new life bird for me, so I was hoping to see at least one of these species on our trip to make it worth while. We arrived at the Crown Point bridge to find that the below-zero temperatures of the night before caused much of the lake to freeze, so there weren't any ducks to be seen there. We had heard however that there was a state park another mile up the lake on the Vermont side where it was suspected that the duck might move to, so we headed there. The road by the entrance to the closed park was lined with about a dozen cars with license plates from DE, NJ, MA, VT, and NY, as the Pochard sighting had drawn birders from all over. As we walked into the park about a dozen birders were walking out with looks of disappointment--no one had been able to locate the bird that day. When we got to the edge of the lake we found that a few people were still looking, including four birder friends of mine from Saranac Lake, and together we searched the flock of about 2000 birds in the hopes of finding the Pochard or any of the other uncommon duck species. We didn't have any luck with the ducks, but we were treated to flyovers of a Northern Goshawk, a Peregrine Falcon, and at least a half dozen Bald Eagles while at the park, all impressive sights. I resigned to the fact that I wasn't going to see a life bird on this journey and headed back to NY. But lo and behold a little bit of luck struck me as we were crossing the Crown Point bridge back to NY when a Glaucous Gull flew right over our car, giving me a clear view of it's pale white plumage below and pale speckling above. To me that was just as good as seeing a Pochard, maybe even better, as it's really one of the prettiest gulls and I could add it to my life, state, and Essex county lists.

Common Pochard male photo from its native Europe 

In the days that followed birders continued to come out by the dozens, possibly hundreds, to search for the Pochard, but those who came Thursday and Friday were disappointed despite all the eyes and spotting scopes that were searching for this bird all over the lake. Fortunately on Saturday the ice receded a little and the bird was spotted again from the bridge, bringing a whole new wave of birders to look for the bird on Sunday, including my friend and I to give it another go. Along the way we stopped to scan the lake at the pier in Port Henry, where there were thousands of ducks but terrible lighting with the early morning sun. As we scanned the raft of ducks my friend found one duck that looked like a possible Pochard, but it's head was tucked and the lighting was terrible so we continued on to the bridge. When we got to the bridge there were about 15 people standing on it with spotting scopes, but no one had yet found the bird. After about 20 minutes we were pondering where to go next when an SUV pulled up behind us and informed us that the Pochard was sighted at the Port Henry pier where we just were. It was quite the sight to watch how fast everyone cleared that bridge and got into their cars to drive the 10 miles to Port Henry! Most people were from out town and therefore needed directions to this new spot, which we quickly shared and then headed on our way. The pier that had only one other birder on it this morning was now bustling with  cars and people, which continued to pour in as word got out about the bird's location. With thousands of ducks on the lake I expected the bird would be way offshore with the other diving ducks and that we'd barely have a view of it, but instead the bird was only 50 feet from shore with a flock of Mallards and we had amazing looks! When we first got the bird in the spotting scope it had its head tucked in, hiding the bill that makes it distinctive from other like species. I sat there chuckling at how oblivious this bird was to all the commotion that it was causing, completely unaware that people had driven hundreds of miles to see it. More entertaining than the bird itself really was the spectacle of birders gathered at that pier, how everyone gasped when he finally lifted his head to reveal his two-toned bill, and how everyone lifted their heads up from their scope in unison when the bird dove underwater. By the time we left the crowd had grown to 50+ people, and probably grew even larger as the day went on. The few local birders there were well outnumbered by people from New York City, New Jersey, and New England. The bird even drew a team of birders from the Cornell Lab of Ornithology, who managed to get some excellent pictures of the bird to confirm the sighting, one of which caused a bit on controversy...

This photo by Larry Master (masterimages.org) shows the
metal leg band on the Pochard

When "listing" birds there are rules to follow, such as the bird has to be alive and free, not restrained in any way, and not brought there by human means. So one of the questions that pops up with extremely rare birds, especially species such as waterfowl that are often kept as pets, is whether the bird wandered over from Eurasia or whether it may have escaped someone's private collection. While we were viewing the Pochard something spooked the flock and the bird took off and flew a few hundred feet, and in that moment one of the birders from Cornell snapped a photo of the bird that revealed something no one wanted to see--a leg band. Any bird raised in captivity has to be issued a band to prove that it wasn't illegally imported, so the presence of a leg band means the bird most likely escaped from a nearby collection, making it not wild and disqualifying it from "lists" by ABA rules. The matter hasn't been settled yet, as there is still the possibility that the bird was banded in the wild as part of a scientific research project while on its breeding grounds in northern Europe where banding (known there as "ringing") is quite common. Such a  debate has been heating up the birding message boards for the past 24 hours and is likely to go on for some time.

The Pochard as I saw it through my friend's scope,
image was digiscoped by Eric D'Amour

Since I'm not competing with anyone else's lists it doesn't much matter to me what the official ruling is, whether the bird is accepted as wild or not. I put it on my life list because I saw the bird, and I'll keep it there regardless of what the official referees decide. It was a beautiful bird to see, and the experience of seeing it with so many others was really quite exciting. If it weren't for an important NFL playoff game at 1:00 I would have stayed there all day just for the experience of meeting people and sharing the experience with others. Being a birder makes you an outcast in most situations, so it's always a welcome experience to meet so many other people with the same unusual passion. And wild or free it still makes for a great story that I'll be able to share with other birders for years to come.