When I was a young lad with no real birding ambitions, the Audubon Society's annual Christmas Bird Count was a singular agony, an interminable Sunday march through punishing winter that commenced in the black of early morning and didn't end until every last bird in a frozen territory in Cuyahoga Falls, Ohio had been counted. Each December it loomed, this trial-by-snow, standing between me and actual Christmas. I didn't like it, I was bad at it, and outside of spotting cardinals and blue jays, I could have been little use to my dad, uncle, and grandfather in identifying birds for "the nation's longest-running community science bird project." The one service I could provide with relative competence was writing up the list, and thus I was recruited for the unenviable task of putting the names of birds to paper with my shivering, ungloved hands. Here's one such document from the 1995 count, recently dug up by our crack team of researchers (note my inclusion of the extremely rare and elusive "Red billed woodpecker"):
It was in those moments I cursed my literate self and the godforsaken ordeal into which compulsory education had landed me. The only mercy was our need to conclude in time for the 1:00 PM Browns kickoff.
Today, aged 45 and a much more able and passionate birder, I'd do anything to be able to tramp those miles with Grandpa again. Naturally now that I'm willing, work and kids and their school often prevent my participation in the count, but when the opportunity to take part with my extant relatives presented itself this time around, I wasn't about to squander it. So, after the necessary quarantine, I joined Dad, Uncle Pete, and my idiot brother on our January 20 quest to find all the birds!
Things got off to a rocky start when Uncle Pete showed up sans binoculars. Our suspicion that he had indulged in some holiday cheer beforehand was confirmed by the whiff of ethanol that accompanied his slurred yet mighty battle cry: Less count some BIRDS, bishes! Luckily, Dad had an extra pair of binocs, but there was some lingering concern Uncle Pete's condition would have him counting double and severely throw off our tally.
Undaunted, our intrepid band of hero-birders trudged on foot through the snowy wastes of Cascade Valley (a jewel of the Summit Metro Parks system) and the former Valley View Golf Course (currently being incorporated into the SMP system).
Then came stops at Chestnut Hill Memorial Park, Babb Run Bird and Wildlife Sanctuary, and a healthy chunk of the city of Cuyahoga Falls. Per tradition, we also stopped at the residence of one Stephen Foliglio (father of our famed
Poet Laureate), whose
calf muscles are worthy of a science project of their own and whose home coincides with our territory.
Along the way there were...
Highlights
Counting 39 species (tying our record) and over 1,300 individuals.
Almost stepping on a Cooper's hawk, which must have been feasting on the ground.
A Cooper's and red-tailed hawk cozied up on a branch in a woods overlooking a flock of chickens, clucking wildly and clearly aware of the doom awaiting one or more of them.
A red-shouldered hawk licking its chops in that same woods.
A mature and an immature bald eagle patrolling the golf course.
A lone merlin in repose.
A pair of eastern towhees foraging near the Signal Tree.
Beholding the 300-year-old Signal Tree...
There were also some...
Lowlights
The mute swan with whatever this is wrapped around its neck.
Trying to count birds as Stephen Foliglio delivered a protracted account of his manifold shoulder, knee, and back ailments.
Uncle Pete tumbling down the banks of the Cuyahoga moments after this photo was taken.
"Forget me!" he cried as the icy stream swept him away. "It's the birds that matterrrrrrrrr!"
And that brings us to our list:
The Birds
Canada goose
Mute swan
Wood duck
Mallard
American black duck
Rock pigeon
Mourning dove
Gull (likely ring-billed)
Great blue heron
Cooper's hawk
Bald eagle
Red-shouldered hawk
Red-tailed hawk
Merlin
Red-bellied woodpecker
Downy woodpecker
Hairy woodpecker
Pileated woodpecker
Red-winged blackbird
Blue jay
American crow
Black-capped chickadee
Tufted titmouse
White-breasted nuthatch
Carolina wren
European starling
Eastern bluebird
American robin
Cedar waxwing
House sparrow
House finch
Pine siskin
American goldfinch
American tree sparrow
Dark-eyed junco
White-throated sparrow
Song sparrow
Eastern towhee
Northern cardinal
All told, we birded over six hours and traveled some forty miles by foot and car. Back home, we fortified our shivering bodies with sandwiches and a
seasonal ale. The Browns rewarded our efforts with a thumping win over the Giants. When we learned later that evening Uncle Pete
had been fished from the river several miles downstream in an advanced state of hypothermia but none the worse for wear, we concluded it was about as perfect a day of birding as could be expected.
Here's to 2021!
nwb
