Never Presume

On Saturday, Dec. 13, I went to Great Swamp. Since my retirement I usually don't go to popular birding spots on the weekends, but that day I was restless. A Barred owl had been reported for weeks in the area and I wanted to see it, even tho' I've seen and heard them before so it wasn't a life bird.

At this time of year owls are active. One of the very few things I miss about the days when I'd have to rise before 4 a.m. and catch a train to get me to work by 7 a.m. was hearing the hooting of the owls most commonly found in my area - Great Horned, Screech and Barred.

"Barred Owl" by btrentler is licensed under CC BY 2.0.

I did a lot of walking that day in the cold at the Swamp, and found a lot of birds including two bald eagles and northern harriers. But no owls. I have yet to find an owl unless it was pointed out to me. So when I started back to where I'd parked and saw a group of people up the road with their long lenses pointed in the same direction, I knew the owl had been spotted. I got to them very quickly.

At first I saw nothing, but one of the men literally positioned me in front of him and told me to start looking up a particular tree. Then I saw the bird.

I like Barred owls. Unlike the Great Horned or the Screech, this owl has dark eyes. It is grayish-brown and has streaking on its white breast - the barring - to help it blend into its surroundings. It looked serene as it rested in the tree. It looked at all of us, at times turned its head. I wished I'd brought my own long-lensed camera.

I asked the man, had he found this bird, high in a tree set far back from the road. No, he said. It turned out to have been another man I had briefly spoken to earlier on the road.

I did not ask the name of any of the people assembled there, including the man who pointed me in the owl's direction. Nor did I offer my name. 

I had always thought birders didn't do such things. We are too busy looking for the birds we seek to follow the social niceties. I thought it was some sort of unsaid "code," like never broadcasting the exact position of an owl found during the day. Owls are night creatures and need to rest by day undisturbed.

What birders DO do is help someone see the bird they found. Among other more kindly reasons it allows them to say the sighting could be corroborated. 

I repaid the man by telling him about the two mature bald eagles I'd seen up the road just minutes before. He rushed there to take pictures, which he was still doing when I drove off.

Then I did something I now regret. So happy was I to have seen this owl I went to a Facebook birding-related page I follow to thank the man publicly. I noted the road - not the exact location - of the owl and said we hadn't exchanged names "per protocol" because I thought that's just how things are done.

After the page's administrator published the post I began to get blowback.

My use of the word "protocol" was questioned. I responded that maybe that was too strong a word. Some questioned why I would think birders so impolite as to not be friendly. A few criticized me for, they claimed, giving the location of the owl and urged me or the administrator to take down the post. One such person, a man I've birded with and know by name, said the Barred owl had been a "sacrificial lamb" for years. I don't know what he meant by that but I responded that he knew the road I had been on is a very long road and I had not noted the exact location.

As for the person saying I should take down the post, I responded that I'd said nothing wrong and if the administrator allowed it to be seen, HE knew I'd said nothing wrong.

The last comment I saw was, "What a bizarre thing to choose to post."

As of this morning 35 people "liked" what I had written, so these people understood what I was getting at.

But I am now very sure of several things:

Birders can't be classified as being all the same. While there are things we all do, some will be nice and some will be nasty. Some will give names and some won't.

Never publicly state anything about finding an owl, even in the most general of terms. In fact, don't state anything on Facebook. Keep your thoughts to yourself.

Never think you know everything, because you don't. As I've often said about myself, I'm no expert. This experience reinforces that belief.

Finally, never presume.

Never presume there is anything like a 'birding code" even if in decades of birding you can count on one hand and have fingers left over the number of times you and someone else have given your names. 

Never presume you can be friends with another birder. Just like in high school there are cliques and there are outsiders. I consider myself one of the latter.

Thank you to the man who helped me find the Great Swamp Barred owl.

Out in the Cold

In winter we behold the charms of solemn majesty and naked grandeur.  -- James Ellis

This morning it was 14 degrees F when the sun rose after 7 a.m. ET. I had lingered in bed under quilts and was not interested in moving. Then I remembered the birds.

Winter, Patriots Path, Nov. 22, 2025 (Margo D. Beller)

Ever since bears damaged feeders and the poles they hang on - several times over the years - I've brought the feeders in at night. But while I was lying under covers, the birds were in shrubs, hedges and on tree branches, puffing themselves up to maintain a layer of warmth under their feathers to survive the cold. It is why I leave the feeders out as long as possible before dark, so they have the fat energy for survival, and why I rouse myself from my warm bed to put the feeders out in the morning.

Lots of birds came to the feeders today, including the red-breasted nuthatch pair that has been hanging around the yard for way over a week. I did not travel far this cold morning, but one morning the previous week, when it was a balmy 17 degrees at sunrise, I took myself to the nearby linear park known as Patriots Path.

White-throated sparrow (Margo D. Beller)

This park goes on for many miles through my home county. I parked at one section started walking.  

I've seen interesting birds in this particular section in all seasons, and there have been many changes in the topography over the years. But now I just wanted to walk and hope something interesting called for me (or Merlin) to hear and identify. I wanted to see what birds do in the cold. It turns out, the same as any other day - get something to eat and try not to be eaten. In the cold, however, I sensed a bit more frenzy.

As I began my walk, a flock of American crows circled and cawed. Were they chatting among themselves, as corvids are wont to do, or were they disturbed by something - a hawk or me? They circled and departed, but then several black vultures flew overhead. Then some turkey vultures. All the vultures started landing in some of the bare trees near the river. The vulture types did not mingle. 

Among them were six turkey vultures roosting in one tree, and beneath them three deer, in winter camoflage, were browsing the winter-killed grasses. They raised their heads, looked at me, then continued eating. This is a hard time for deer. Plants they'd normally browse have died or gone dormant, and people are out trying to shoot them. This section of the park used to be marked as a "Deer Management Area" but I noticed the orange sign had been removed. No hunting here today.

Turkey vulture (RE Berg-Andersson)

With my binoculars I looked at all the birds and found a roosting red-tailed hawk in a separate tree. All these raptors were waiting for the sun to hit them so they could be warm enough to hunt for their breakfast. I wondered, where did the vultures come from and why did they pick this area to congregate? I can only guess.

The cold kept the number of walkers, with or without dogs, at a minimum so the birds remained where they were as I stood still to watch and listen. Near the intersection with the next road were many birds flying around, looking for food or just some warm sunshine. Robins and rusty blackbirds flew around the trees. White-crowned and song sparrows called from thick shrubbery. I was lucky a swamp sparrow allowed me to see its rich colors. A raven croaked as it flew by overhead. Goldfinches and juncos flitted around. Various woodpeckers banged at trees to dislodge hidden insects. Titmice hung upside-down on smaller branches, doing the same. Jays, white-breasted nuthatch and fish crows called. 

Roosting red-tailed hawk from another time (Margo D. Beller)

I stood for a long time listening, or at least trying to hear over the sound of morning rush hour traffic. (Merlin was a great help in this.) Where the birds went fast, I went slow. But despite my winter gear the cold started affecting me, starting with my legs. Holding the binoculars made my hands very cold, and it was hard to focus the gears. Had I been carrying my stick it would've become painful through my glove. Instead, I was holding my phone, which the cold also affected. Between the cold and the Merlin app the phone dropped to a dangerously low power level. I shut everything off and walked quickly back to my car to warm up.

But I was satisfied with all I saw and heard despite the discomfort. According to the New Jersey Bird Records Committee's list of every bird ever recorded (and verified) in New Jersey (part of a plethora of lists and annual reports it puts out), 502 types of birds have been found in the state (plus five now considered extinct). I got to see or hear 15 of them.

Another time out in the cold. (RE Berg-Andersson)

Today the early birder got the birds. 

Looking Out My Back Door

This morning I found it had snowed a bit overnight and the roads were shiny with ice. I had thought about going to one or more places to do some birding - not expecting much now that migration is long over, but maybe finding something that has flown south to my area and will now hang around for the winter.

Cardinal in a past winter. (Margo D. Beller)

But since my fall I try to be more careful about where I go to walk. Ice on the road means ice on the paved paths I usually walk.

So I put out the feeders, brewed some coffee, put a cup in a thermal mug and took Merlin outside to listen.

This blog is called Backyard Birding for a reason. It was in my backyard that I first realized the diversity of the winged world. The birds coming to the feeders. The birds calling from the trees and bushes. The birds flying overhead, some of them looking to make a meal of a bird or squirrel.

When weather won't allow me to go out, or even if I am just restless to do something, I either sit on the enclosed porch or I stand on the patio and wait. At this time of year, when I seem to be the only one offering birds something to eat, the yard gets very busy, very fast.

I must be careful where I walk on snowy days.
(RE Berg-Andersson)

Take today, for instance. In no particular order the yard had hairy woodpecker, downy woodpecker, red-bellied woodpecker, yellow-bellied sapsuckers (two, chasing each other around the dogwood tree), house finches (too many), mourning doves (at least eight, all picking up what the finches dropped), blue jays, cardinals, titmice, a black-capped chickadee, a goldfinch, white-breasted nuthatch, house sparrow and, unusually quiet in a nearby hedge, a mockingbird. (Once in a while a robin or a Carolina wren will pass through, but not today.)

Lately, I've hosted several visitors from the north: white-throated sparrows, juncos and, most unusual, red-breasted nuthatch. This nuthatch is smaller than the white-breasted nuthatch I see more often, and is more comfortable hanging upside-down on the suet feeder. One day we had two birds, a male and female. Both have a black and white face pattern, the male's breast a darker red than the female's. These birds are usually found in pine forests, so perhaps they were attracted to the sheltering branches of Spruce.

The more commonly seen white-breasted nuthatch (top) with
titmouse. (Margo D. Beller)

As for the "...and Beyond" part of my blog title, this afternoon the temperature rose and the wind died down, making it feel like spring, albeit a cold spring. My area was clear of snow. I drove out to the park I would've visited earlier in the day. The path was still covered with snow and the parking lot blocked. 

So I turned around and drove home, content to resume my backyard birding.