Whether you're new to birding or have been around the mudflats a few times, navigating the unspoken nuances of birding etiquette is probably something you've had to learn on the wing. If only there were a resource to guide you toward more courteous interactions with the birds you seek — and the humans you meet along the way — like a Miss Birding Manners.
Dear Miss Birding Manners,
The other day my friend and I raced to a city park to chase a Red-eyed Vireo, a rare eastern vagrant. We arrived just as a few other birders were leaving; they told us they'd lost track of the vireo after it flew into a nearby resident's fenced yard. We walked around the fence and found a spot where some missing boards gave us a good view into the backyard. We'd been scanning the yard with binoculars for not even 10 minutes when a police car pulled up.
We spent the rest of our outing showing our IDs and explaining what the heck we were up to. I don't feel we did anything wrong — as I told the officers, it would have been a life bird for both of us — but they encouraged us to leave, so we did. Shouldn't they have cut us some slack since our observations contribute to the bird records database?
Gentle Birder,
Miss Birding Manners understands fully the compulsion behind your actions and may, in fact, have found herself in a similar quandary during past rare bird pursuits (only she was not so daft as to get caught). She suggests that rather than designate yourself a citizen scientist whose quest for data knows no boundaries — including property boundaries — that you redefine your role to be that of "birding ambassador." That means never entering private property or pointing your binoculars toward people's homes without the landowner's permission, as well as politely departing if your presence makes the owner uncomfortable.
Some homeowners are happy to allow birders access to their property in the event a rare bird is spotted there. If that's the case, follow their guidelines assiduously regarding parking, where to walk and look and what hours you may be present. And be sure to thank them for their hospitality.
So, Gentle Birder, regard this experience not as a missed sighting, but rather a learning opportunity for future interactions with property owners, who may become birders if given respectful and courteous handling. The alternative is to be on a first-name basis with the local bail bondsmen in your area.
Dear Miss Birding Manners,
I've heard that using playback — recordings of bird songs and calls — is one of the best ways to bring birds out into the open for better views and photographs. In fact, some birders purchase accessory speakers that connect to their phones, dramatically increasing the volume and range of the playback. Should I give this a try? After all, everyone's doing it.
Gentle Birder,
If other birders jumped off a cliff, would you follow them?
Think back a few decades to the movie Say Anything and the scene where Lloyd Dobler holds up a boombox and plays "In Your Eyes" outside Diane Court's house. What happens next? She comes to the window. This is the desired effect of playback.
But there are other, less apparent effects. As Ms. Court responds to the playback her metabolic rate increases, causing her heart to beat more rapidly and her breathing to become shallower. Adrenaline and mating hormones are released into her bloodstream and calories she needs for other critical functions — taking in nutrition, resting, filling out college applications — are burned as fuel. Then she and Lloyd live happily ever after.
However, playback in birding rarely leads to a Hollywood ending and the effect is far more significant to a songbird's tiny body than it would be to a human's. Many birders believe its use triggers a physiological stress response that wastes fuel and distracts birds from vital avian activity, such as caring for young, foraging and looking out for predators. For that reason, playback is not permitted in many public parks and refuges.
Ornithologist David Sibley acknowledges that playback is a "powerful tool" in a birder's toolkit but cautions that it should be used sparingly and with respect for both birds and birders. Sibley recommends using short snippets of sound rather than continuous recordings; he also advises checking with other birders before using it, lest hackles be raised.
Oh, and Sibley also says, "Don't be a Lloyd Dobler." (Miss Birding Manners may be paraphrasing here.) The volume need be no louder than the built-in speaker of the average cellphone.
Dear Miss Birding Manners,
What about pishing, since it doesn't use technology?
Gentle Birder,
"Pishing," for the uninitiated, is a noise made by puckering the lips and expelling air to mimic the alarm calls of birds and thus draw them out of leafy cover. Much has been written about the exact art of the pish; suffice it to say that techniques vary from birder to birder in both pitch, duration and the amount of wetness applied to the lips.
However, despite its lack of gadgetry, pishing is considered to be a "broad-spectrum" attractant — in other words, more birds are impacted and their behavior altered by a pseudo-alarm call than might be by a single-species call playback. Your target bird may be an American Redstart (warbler), but first the chickadees will investigate, followed by the kinglets, sparrows, flycatchers and so on. Remember, your goal is to be an observer; with pishing, you stray into the role of influencer.
So pish judiciously, as though applying a trace of exquisite spice to a gourmet dish. And, most importantly, take care to stand behind birders who opt for a wetter pish.
Dear Miss Birding Manners,
Sometimes by the time I arrive at a location where a rare bird's been reported all the available parking spots are taken. It's OK to double-park just for a few minutes, right?
Gentle Birder,
No.
Dear Miss Birding Manners,
If I bring a bag of homemade chocolate chip cookies to a long rare bird stakeout, do I have to share them with other birders?
Gentle Birder,
Before she can address the full etiquette ramifications of your query, Miss Birding Manners will require a sample of the baked goods in question.
Sarah Hobart (she/her) is a freelance writer based in Humboldt County.