Beaks and Bills
by Joe Meche
Theories abound that the north/south migration of birds might have begun during the Ice Age. The advance of glaciers forced birds southward during the colder months in search of food. Less hardy birds went farther south, and, as the glaciers began to recede these same birds were able to return to their ancestral breeding grounds in the warmer months. Factors like climate change and competition for food are prominent in initiating the movements we see today across North America. As climate change continues, we might live to see more adaptive movements occurring in our lifetimes. Locally, the California scrub jay has been an example of those changes for several years now.
Even though the twice-a-year seasonal movements of birds have been observed and studied for many years, there are so many things about avian migration that are beyond our comprehension. We understand their traditional patterns and migratory routes in and out of North America, and the rest of the world for that matter. We also know the reasoning behind migration in both spring and fall, but it’s the intrinsic nature of birds to respond to a call that we can never fully grasp.
photo: Joe Meche
Snow geese
The major movement of birds in spring is far and away more exciting to me than the wave of southbound birds in fall. There’s just something energizing for all living things to have made it through another winter with the promise of a new start. The excitement for humans begins with the spring ritual of changing our clocks ahead to begin another round of Daylight Saving Time … that much-debated practice that always seems to require a period of adjustment for many folks. I’ve never thought it was as dramatic as some make it out to be. Just change your clocks and get on with your life!
The drama this year took place on March 9 and I hardly noticed. The things I pay attention to have nothing to do with clocks and gaining or losing one hour of daylight … you lose it in the spring but you get it back in the fall. What I do notice are the signs we get from birds and insects. These are the visual aids that go hand in hand with more tolerable temperatures and the removal of the winter layers we’ve put away, albeit not too far away. Nature has proven to be capricious if nothing else and it’s a long way to July and August.
And, as of March 20, the long wait for one of our favorite seasons to arrive finally ended. As an added bonus for me, three days before the arrival of spring was the 48th anniversary of my own early morning arrival in Bellingham. I guess my own northwest migration was timed pretty well since I’m still here … and I have no plan to migrate in any direction within the foreseeable future. I’ll just continue to marvel at the magic and mystery of avian migration, as I do every time spring rolls around.
Since I was a mere lad growing up in southwest Louisiana, I was always fascinated by things with wings. It happened mostly by default, and, with a good bit of input from my paternal grandfather, I became very interested in birds. My dad and mom were always busy with their own day-to-day activities, but grandpa lived with us and was always around to answer questions posed by a curious eight year old. He introduced me to the first three birds whose names I still recall fondly. The best part of his lessons came in the fall when the massive movements of waterfowl, primarily snow geese, settled into the vast rice fields that surrounded my hometown.
Well before Google maps and such, we had an actual globe in our house and he showed me where we were and where the geese came from to get to where we were. I was fascinated then and I’m still fascinated to think that this is still going on and I’m in a good place to witness it. While my indoctrination at an early age focused on the fall migration winging into our part of Louisiana, it was still the spring movement of birds that brought everything into perspective. And it was always the snow geese that provided the sights and sounds particular to the time of year.
Just like here in the Northwest today, the southbound flocks that pass overhead in fall don’t seem to be as well organized and come in as smaller groups. I’ve seen these flocks as far south as New Mexico in the winter and it’s not until spring that the really big numbers come. The geese have held forth in their respective wintering habitats, feeding and resting, all in preparation for the massive northbound movement in spring. Young birds of the previous year have been shown the proverbial ropes by the adults, and, when the time is right and the fat reserves have been stored away, they’re off to their northern breeding grounds!
photo: Joe Meche
Snow geese, west of Edison
Tens of thousands of snow geese leave Whatcom and Skagit counties in spring and that’s spectacular enough for me. But I fondly remember hundreds of thousands leaving south Louisiana in the broad daylight (with apologies to Rodney Crowell). The sound was always enough to drown out the sermons on Sunday mornings as they flew not-so-quietly over St. Michael’s Catholic Church. It seemed at the time that all the parishioners had smiles on their faces as the geese heralded the promise of good weather ahead.
I’m sure you’ve heard these bits and pieces of my own introduction to migration from the early years, but the beauty is that it’s still happening … right here in our own backyards. As I go to favorite hot-spots, I see wintering birds like loons and grebes transitioning into breeding plumage; I see the first swallows arrive along with the flying insects that are their main sources of food; and the early vanguard of northbound shorebirds are dropping in at their own staging areas. Times in-between migrations are exciting enough as birds settle into breeding and nesting habitats and raising the young of the year, but the overall dynamic energy of migration is unparalleled.
While the snow geese and other birds are on their way north, smaller birds are also on their way from their wintering grounds. These are the birds that have migrated from as far away as Central and South America to nest and raise their young here. Though we don’t experience the massive fall-outs like the birds on the northern coast of the Gulf of Mexico, we have our fair share of the colorful and melodious Neotropical species to fill the gap left by our departing species.
Some folks don’t care for winter birding, obviously because of the colder temps and mostly uncomfortable weather … and I can’t say that I blame them. Instead, they look forward to the arrival of swallows and warblers and other nesting birds, not to mention better viewing conditions. The melodies of Swainson’s thrushes and the rollicking songs of black-headed grosbeaks bring smiles to the faces of birders from spring and into summer. Even with my own loss of high-end hearing, I can still enjoy the distinctive songs of Wilson’s warblers and Pacific wrens.
I guess the bottom line is just to get out of the cabin now and then if you’re able, dress appropriately and enjoy the comings and goings in the lives of birds. They add so much to our own lives and provide such a pleasant distraction, especially in the tumultuous times like we’re experiencing right now.
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Joe Meche is a past president of the North Cascades Audubon Society and was a member of the board of directors for 20 years. He has been watching birds for more than 60 years and photographing birds and landscapes for more than 40 years. He has written over 200 columns for Whatcom Watch.
