Subject: birders, birder etiquette, and the safety of birds
Date: Apr 22 21:05:04 1997
From: Wallitra at aol.com - Wallitra at aol.com


Hi tweeters.

I just returned from a trip to southeastern Arizona and northern New Mexico.
Because the topic of why we bird has come up, I'd like to share a bit of my
experience with you.

I like to hike and camp. Birding adds pleasure to hiking. Now and then you
are rewarded by the sight of a bird on the trail and it's nice to be able to
identify it. I don't go out of my way to attract or find birds...a sighting
is a gift of nature. I didn't go to Arizona specifically to bird, but I did
head to two areas that I had heard were important bird habitats: Patagonia
and Madera Canyon. I was curious and in the mood for lovely nature.

I visited the Patagonia/Sonoita Creek Nature Conservancy site. Walking about
the preserve was a wonderful experience, birds were plenty and the company of
other birders was pleasant. After visiting Madera Canyon, I realize now that
these birders were so well behaved because the Nature Conservancy is strict
about good behavior on the part of birders in order to protect the birds.
Madera Canyon has no such controls and is a frightful experience for
conscientious birders.

Here are a few examples of birder behavior in Madera Canyon:

The scattering of large quantities of seed and fresh fruit all over the
campground in order to attract birds. This was not the work of one stupid
birder but the efforts of each birder who camped at the Bog Springs
Campground. Any camper knows that food also attract rodents and bears. And
every camper knows that attracting bears to a campground is dangerous to
camper and bear. Bears who come to associate people with food often come to
no good end at the hands of forest rangers and local vigilantes, e.g., they
are shot. I might suggest to birders who practice food dumping that they try
setting out a small dish of water instead. I was rewarded with an extremely
close view of a bridled titmouse simply because I cooled my hot feet at the
pump. The titmouse drank from the pool of water that remained after I had
finished pouring water over my feet.

While waiting to post a letter at the lodge office, I overheard this
conversation between birder and hotel clerk.
Birder: Are the nightjars still around?
Clerk: No, they left. They were here for two weeks trying to nest, but every
night birders would visit their nesting grounds and wouldn't leave them
alone. The birders kept shining flashlights on them and it was just too
disturbing to them, so they took off.
Birder: Oh, that's too bad. Hey, do you know anything about night birding
tours? My wife and I and the other couple we're with would really like to see
some elf owls...
Wouldn't it be great if birds could drive humans from their nesting grounds?
If we see a decline in the Arizona nightjar population, we can blame the
stupid birders of Madera Canyon.

Later that night at the campground, an elderly birder approaches each
campsite with this information...
Elderly birder: Hey, are you birding tonight? There's a young fellow up the
way who just spotted an elf owl in a tree near his campsite. You really
should come up and have a look at the bird.
I declined. Half an hour later, I crossed the path of this elderly birder and
his companions. They had surrounded the campsite in question and were playing
a tape of elf owl calls and shining their flashlights into the tree. Perhaps
they didn't notice the campsite occupant quietly eating his dinner. If it had
been my campsite, I would have chased them off with a stick and given a smack
to each hide that didn't scoot fast enough. Their activity was disturbing to
human and animal. I swore to myself that from this point on I would never
identify myself as a birder because I would never wish to be confused with
those I observed in Madera Canyon. I strolled away from these birders and
down the road. No flashlights, no tapes, only the comet, the stars, and a
half moon to shed light on the canyon. Away from the intense birder activity,
I again heard the sounds of night and smiled at the sweet sound of the elf
owls calling to each other across a birderless, moonlit mesquite orchard. I
returned to my campground and sought my tent. An elf owl called above my
head, safely tucked into a dark tree in my dark campsite. The birders walked
past my tent, disappointed because they had not spotted the elusive elf owl,
complaining bitterly to their guide. I laughed and wished them much bad luck
in their future birding endeavors.

I suggest that Craig Corder's description of Listing as "hunting without the
violence" become "hunting without a gun but still extremely violent." Hunting
that includes the use of tapes, flashlights, forays into areas that are
restricted, and so forth is harmful to birds and extremely unpleasant for
those who don't hunt birds in this fashion. Listers who hunt in this fashion
deserve their ugly step-sister status because they do cause harm.

Best,
Wallis