Uncertain Identity

 

Uncertain Identity

I am blessed to have a nice yard with our home being on a five-acre lot outside the city limits and lights and traffic.  Add to that the fact that we have an 80-acre nature conservancy adjoining the back lot line. There are ponds and wetlands, fields and woodlots all close by.  It is a haven for many types of birds.   So naturally, a favorite pastime during these pleasant days is sitting out on the patio watching and listening for the many kinds of birds that hang around my backyard, or pass overhead and trying to identify them.  My Peterson’s Field Guide to the Birds of North America is always close at hand. 

Sometimes I recognize their distinct calls.  A couple of my favorites are cardinals and orioles.  The cardinals are dependable, consistent and simple with just a couple of notes.  The oriole’s song is complex and only heard occasionally, and so it is always a special treat.  Sometimes their unique plumage gives them away.  A couple of my favorites are goldfinches and indigo buntings.  Their colors are bright and bold even though both birds are just a few ounces in weight.  And sometimes it is the way they fly that gives them away.  A couple of my favorites are hummingbirds, especially as they chase each other around the yard, and the many raptors that ride the thermals, effortlessly turning circles overhead.     

Still, there are situations like the other day when Michelle looked out the kitchen window, pointed toward one of the linden trees and asked, “What kind of bird is that?”  He was predominately yellow – striking but a little more subtle than the goldfinch.  There was also a patch of white and some rusty brown.  He was bigger than a finch but smaller than a redwing, or at least scaled more slightly.  The bird’s bill and overall outline suggested some sort of warbler to me, but warblers are not my area of expertise, so to Mr. Peterson I went. 

The problem with birds is that they seldom sit still long enough to gather all the telltale facts needed for a positive identification.  Was that spot of white on the belly or on the wing?  Was that bit of rust color on the wing, or along the side?  They also have a habit of concealing a good deal of themselves behind branch and leaf.  And, of course, there are the birds that fly in and out at low-light conditions of dawn and dusk that make firm coloring identification difficult at best.  

The problem with the field guide is that it is limited when it comes to a family group as large and varied as warblers.  It offers a handful of suggestions but then just row after row of mugshot-like drawings of heads only and the associated names.  Without a view of the full body, there isn’t enough information to make a match, at least for me.  So, it turned out to be another time when we laid dubious claim to having “discovered” a new bird.  It's kind of a humorous way to admit that neither of us has any real idea as to what that bird really was.  I also appreciate that drops us from contention of ever being considered serious ‘birders’, but I am fine with that. 

I must admit that, although we chuckle about how many birds we have “discovered” through the years, it’s always a little unsatisfying.  It somehow seems important to know the bird’s true identity.  It obviously doesn’t matter to the bird, or he’d have sat there long enough for me to be certain of his coloring.  But it matters to me.  I wonder why?

"Are not two sparrows sold for a small coin? Yet not one of them falls to the ground without your Father’s knowledge." Matthew 10:29

His Peace <><

Deacon Dan          


Photo by Tyler Jamieson Moulton on Unsplash

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