I keep going over my checklist and making sure we are ready for our big birding day. Directions sent home? Check. Permission Slips? Check. Binoculars? Check. Field Guides? Check. Maps to our birding spots? Check. Pencils and clipboards with Burlington County Birds list? Check. I even have donuts ready for the team for breakfast this early Saturday morning.
I enjoy my powdered-sugar-raspberry-filled breakfast while my librarian friend and I scout for birds on my deck before the students arrive. (I wouldn’t trust myself to lead this small flock of middle schoolers and their parents on Burlington County’s Bird Quest, a friendly competition to count the most species on a Saturday in May, without Shayne.) We’ve been checking the ebird rare bird alert religiously for weeks. For every new bird we want to count today I say, “What does it eat? I’ll buy it a feeder!” My backyard boasts eight bird feeders now.
I spot a yellow bird on the thistle feeder and don’t bother to raise the binoculars, assuming it’s an American Goldfinch. I continue munching, but Shayne is more alert. “New Bird!” she says, and I lift my binoculars to get a good look. We begin the day’s count with a Pine Warbler. I’m so glad she made me look.
Students arrive and we get them set with equipment and instructions. “Keep the binocular strap around your neck and don’t check off any birds without having someone confirm they see it too.”
I pause to wipe something sticky from my face. Oh, goodness. I’ve got jelly on my right cheek. How in the world did I make such a mess? I excuse myself and leave Shayne in charge. I go inside and wash it off. When I get back to the deck, I point out a White-breasted Nuthatch. “Remember, we learned they’re the only birds that go head-first down the tree?”
Another bird is heading straight down a tree and Shayne says, “New bird!” My binoculars go up. We’ve got a Red-breasted Nuthatch. Now I’m really excited! Wait, my cheek is sticky again. I go back inside and wash off more raspberry jelly. I check my hands. All clean. . . how the heck am I such a mess? I think as I walk back outside.
“We should probably go to our next site soon.” I start herding our little group of birders toward the door, but not before an actual American Goldfinch comes to the feeder. I could watch our sweet little yellow state bird through my binoculars all day, but we have to add it to our count and move on. Something’s in my eyelash. I head to the powder room on the way to the car. More jelly! Good grief.
Our next stop is our own school, Olson Middle, where we hope to count Eastern Bluebirds, nesting in the boxes on our bluebird trail. Shayne teaches the students and parents how to check a nest box and we add bluebirds to our growing list. One of our students points up. Sharp young eyes spot a Bald Eagle on a rare flight above our school. This time, instead of keeping my eye on the bird and raising the glasses, I look down. A giant glob of raspberry jelly is on the bottom of my right eye piece. I poke Shayne and point to the culprit of my jelly scuffufle.
Our next stop is Bear Creek Swamp. We walk along the power line, and one bright young birder alerts us to a Cerulean Warbler. We check her description, our observation of field marks, and the field guide. She’s right! Maybe we should trust her observational skills over our own.
On to Amico Island for Orioles and water fowl. We get great views of nesting Great Blue Herons who look hilariously out of place in their huge high nests. Our last stop is Palmyra Cove, where we will total our count and have lunch. We only have about fifteen minutes to count birds but add Mallard and Canada Goose. Every species counts. Another school group is walking into the nature center about the same time we are, when the naturalist, Christina, comes running out of the building shouting, “Where is it?” and we all turn to look high in the tree where someone points. I get my jelly-free binoculars focused on a Red-headed Woodpecker. Only the second one I’ve ever seen!
“Oh no,” Shayne says as we gather our team inside and start comparing lists to total our count. She points to a teacher we know from Mount Laurel with another group of middle schoolers. “She always wins everything,” Shayne whispers. “I don’t care what place we are, we just have to have more birds than them!” I agree it would be nice to beat her in something.
We turn in our total to Christina and sit outside to eat lunch. I try to size up the other teams and wonder if we have any chance at winning. There’s a pretty serious looking group of adults wearing hiking attire and carrying expensive Zeiss Binoculars. (I bet they know better than to eat jelly donuts with those things hanging around their necks.) It’s not looking great for the newly named Olson Owls.
It’s time for the big finale. . . at first, we are disappointed when the serious looking adults have the longest bird list, but when we learn the Olson Owls have the most birds of any other school group, we all high-five and jump up and down as if we won the state soccer tournament. (Little do the other participants know it was all about beating the Harrington Hawks for the Olson Owl Sponsors.) Our bird quest day is done and we gather our gear to part. But like a sprinkle of powdered sugar on top of our donut of a day, the Zeiss binocular folks come over and generously give their first place prizes to our school kids. I wish I could give them a raspberry filled in exchange for their birding blessings!
Your Turn: When was coming in second just as good as winning for you?
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