I've Been Doing a Little Bird Listening with Merlin Lately

Many moons ago, I lived a stone's throw from Kennesaw Mountain (Kennesaw, GA). The mountain was not only a wonderful historical spot to visit, but the trails and the road to the summit were both outstanding birdwatching locations. Almost every weekend, I'd take Beau and my binoculars and see what kind of birds I could add to my life list. It was particularly exciting to go birdwatching during March and September, as we were right on the migratory path. I even created a small stir in local birding channels once, by spotting an Oregon Junco (a variety of dark-eyed junco) on one of my hikes. And then, I moved.

The wonderful thing about going to Kennesaw Mountain was that I could use my binoculars at will. On the first of my several new locations, I lived in the city. Oddly enough, the neighbors took exception to anyone they perceived as a peeper, even though I explained that I was just watching birds. The next time I moved, it was to New Orleans. I had access to a wonderful bird feeder that attracted 13 of the 20 species of hummingbirds found in North America, as well as to several state parks in close proximity. Finally, it was off to SW Mississippi, where we're currently inundated with ruby-throated hummingbirds, as they make their way to the Texas coast for their final leg of migration south.

By the time I made it here to Mississippi, I'd stopped watching birds very much. I needed a new pair of binoculars and other things took over my time. My birding went to casual to occasional and then rare. I finally stopped birding after my binoculars finally went to the Great Birding Trail in the Sky, as I could never find a pair I liked as well as the ones that I'd had. I had collected a life list with well over 100 species on it--not bad for a birder who had spent a few hours each month with the hobby, so I was able to put it aside with a feeling of a job well done. And there it stayed, for close to seven years. And then, just a few months ago, Dan sent me a link in my email. "Have you seen this app?" he asked. I recognized the link as belonging to Cornell Lab of Ornithology, which I had used for bird identification long ago. It had been quite some time since I'd visited their site, however, so I opened it anyway.

It would not be an exaggeration to say that following that link opened up a whole new world of birding for me. You see, while the link was to Cornell Lab, the app it led to was a new one to me: Merlin Bird ID. This free app helped identify the calls of birds in the immediate area of the user. It was simple to use, merely requiring the user to enter an email address to register and a zip code to identify the location the app would be scanning. I like simple. I especially like free and simple. I downloaded the app on my phone and immediately went outside to start recording the voices of the birds in the area around the cottage. Almost instantly the photograph of one bird species popped up on my screen. Then another and another. Merlin identified voices of the Northern Cardinals and the Carolina Chickadees, which are always numerous around here, as well as the calls of the Great Blue Heron and the Ospreys that call the area home. Some of the birds that the app had identified were old hat to me--after all, I had seen dozens of cardinals and chickadees over the years, but the ospreys and the Fish Crows were a big surprise. I'd heard their calls for years, but had never realized what I was hearing.

You see, I had always been learning to identify birds by their "field marks" and overall outline using my old and musty paper version of the Audubon Guide to Birds of North America. I had never really learned them by their voices. I could identify the Mourning Dove and the White-throated Sparrow in my sleep, having grown up in an area where they were plentiful. Other bird calls and songs remained a mystery to me. After all, if you've heard one "pit, pit, pit," then you've heard them all, no matter what the tone or pitch. Right? Um. No.

Over the weeks, I developed a routine. In the morning, before my coffee, I'd place my phone in the window and record for a few minutes. In the evening, right after Dan and I had our supper and conversation, I recorded up at his place for ten minutes before starting my chores. Many birds were familiar to me, but others, like the Blue-gray Gnatcatcher and the Black-bellied Whistling Duck were completely new birds for me. (If you look at the duck map, you'll see that it's an accidental visitor to our area--very cool!) After a while, I was able to reassure Dan that no, our area was not destitute of birds. Rather, we had dozens of species that we had never laid eyes on but had heard for years. The current list stands at 59 bird species on just a small sample of Dan's 40 acres. I imagine that, if I ventured into the less developed part of the property that I might hear others, too.

The very cool thing about all this is that I feel that I'm now a more complete birder. I have a long way to go before I can pick more than a handful of calls and songs out of the air, but the sounds I'm hearing are now less jumbled and confusing. Occasionally, I can pick up a faint call in the distance. Even if I don't have Merlin running, I'm beginning to have the ability to determine whether it's a new sound or not.

Even now, a few months in, it's all still very new and exciting to me. After all, it is September and, once again, I live right on a lovely migratory path. Who knows? Next time I have a little extra cash in hand, I might even pick up a new pair of binoculars!