I got word of the Grace’s Warbler a bit late in the game. This is no one’s fault but my own; had I partied a bit less hearty on New Year’s Eve, I would have stuck with my original plan of going birding on January 1, which in turn would have led me to check the rare bird alerts before I went outside. All the philosophical ramblings that follow are entirely personal, the post hoc rationalizations of a birder inflicted with crapulence and cold-snap induced malaise; they are not grand pronouncements on the worthiness of listing, the pursuit of vagrants, or competitiveness in our beloved hobby.
But long story short, I did not go after the Grace’s Warbler, the first state record a mere 30 miles from my current location.
When I did hear about the Grace’s Warbler, finally, on the second, my first reaction was much like everyone else’s: “Wow!” My second reaction, though, was “crud.*” I immediately said to my gentleman friend “I hope this bird doesn’t stick around, so I don’t have to go after it.”
Selfish? Naturally. Illogical? No. From the vantage point of a car-free person in the depths of lower Brooklyn, Point Lookout is in the nebulous border region where “I am going to chase this bird” and “I cannot, logistically speaking, chase this bird” blur and meld into “I could, in theory, chase this bird, but it will be extremely unpleasant.”
Still, it’s not as though I hadn’t done unpleasant things to chase birds before. Why not this one, this time? A state first, a beautiful bird, a significant addition to my life list?
Two images kept coming into my mind. The first was an entirely hypothetical one – an image of a Grace’s Warbler as I’d always imagined first seeing it. The southwestern US is still undiscovered country for me – barring one trip to San Diego and a handfull of layovers in Las Vegas, I’ve never been – and I had imagined a Grace’s Warbler darting out of a treetop in Nevada or New Mexico to add a flash of color to my first real exploration of the region.
The other image was the memory of the Ash-throated Flycatcher I’d chased in Queens in December 2009. That trip had involved only one train, and the weather had not been particularly bitter, and I’d gotten the bird. Still, the tick brought me little pleasure. Not only had the setting been unlovely – I’m not stickler for the pastoral, but there’s a fine line between gritty and simply dull – but the bird itself made me sad. An insectivore trying to scrabble calories into its body through a New York winter is a stressed creature at best, and the line “I wasn’t even supposed to be here today!” is a tragic one, is it not? The bird’s misery and my own much less life-or-death discomfort had melded in my head and made the day grayer and sadder in my memory. If seeing the Grace’s Warbler was going to be like that, I wanted none of it.
I’d rather watch happy pigeons.
Still, there was one strong indication that this was all a line I was pulling on myself: I did ask around to see if I could hitch a ride with anyone driving out to go after the bird. Bird PLUS good company MINUS the risk of an all-day fiasco if the warbler didn’t show might have tipped the balance, put Point Lookout back into “chase this bird” territory. But when this option didn’t materialize, I simply promised myself that future trip to New Mexico and got back to work.
Only time will tell if I made the right choice, or if I will be as emo about not-seeing the warbler as I was about seeing the flycatcher. I await the outcome with some interest, since it will influence my future birding decisions.
Readers: Have you ever deliberately decided not to chase a rarity? How did it work out for you?
*loosely translated from the original French
Pigeon photo by David Herr, courtesy of the U.S. Forest Service
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This is more-or-less how I feel about chasing any rarity. Unless it’s very close and very easy, I generally don’t do it, since I usually end up feeling less-than-satisfied with the experience.
Carrie, reading your tale made me feel a little less guilty about doing the exact same thing–my spouse/birding partner and I made a more or less semi-conscious decision not to go after the Graces’. I had to laugh at your “oh crud” because I had the exact same reaction. In our case I have to say it was 98% pure laziness–and we don’t even have the excuse of not having a car, we do–and we are also in Brooklyn, so really not that far–and there was a long period of should we/shouldn’t we. It would not have taken much to tip us into going–a call from a fellow birder looking for a ride might have been enough! I even tried to convince a birding friend to come along but he had another obligation. Without that impetus of company–we went to the movies instead. At least for us its not a lifer, having seen it in NM and AZ, but still…in hindsight I *sort of* regret not going…especially since the circumstances were so perfect (a vacation day even!) Oh well, being lazy and a birder sometimes doesn’t mix 🙂
So, Carrie, if I mentioned that I was going to head out onto Long Island tomorrow in the late morning with Desi to find a Snowy Owl and might make a stop to see if the warbler if showing does that mean you wouldn’t want to come?
So you live in Brooklyn? I have heard that it is either illegal or verboten to own a car living there, but that’s why zip-car came into being. 🙂
I deliberately did not chase a Wagtail while living in So California, and ~still~ regret it. Don’t know why, but that bird didn’t inspire me at the time. Groan.
I find the thrill of the chase to be pleasant even when unsuccessful; and chasing has brought me to some wonderful places that I would otherwise have never visited.
Case in point: I was amongst the {delusional?} crew who went to the Catskills recently to chase the Grey-crowned Rosy Finch. We didn’t see it. I knew at the get go it was highly improbable, and most assuredly we would not succeed. But it was one of the most dazzlingly spectacular hikes I have done in quite some time. The scenery was indescribably beautiful, the hike challenging yet rewarding, and the air crisp and ever so silent. We did not see the finch, but I came away far from empty handed.
And remember: If you see the bird, you get a celebratory beer. If not, you get a consolation beer. It’s all good.
jmj and jcz – Good to know I’m not the only one.
Corey – I wouldn’t go so far as to say that. I do have to be back in town for a late afternoon engagement though, so it depends on the logistics.
Arie – Well, a hike in the Adirondacks can hardly ever be called a waste. Heck, I’m even glad I dipped on the Western Reef-heron, since in a sense it got me into grad school.
For what it’s worth, I don’t chase rarities. There was a Lucy’s warbler two hours away from me (northern Michigan) in November and I didn’t even give any thought to going. I’m not sure if that makes me less of a birder or not. Some of the harder core types have certainly made me feel like some kind of three-eyed mutant for expressing that lack of desire. For me, birding is all about ecology. When I put a new bird on the life list, I generally spend hours studying it – why it lives where it does, what it eats, who it eats it, how it affects its environment, what traits it’s evolved to fill whatever niche it fills.
Lucy’s warblers have no ecological significance to the Lake Superior shore. They don’t live there – ever. This bird was likely removing itself from the gene pool by being dumb enough to turn the wrong way and getting caught in some weather. That just doesn’t interest me enough to drive two hours. When I see one, I’ll see it in Arizona where it “belongs”. Getting my lifer there will be far, far more exiting and fulfilling to me than getting it as the first ever in Michigan and only second ever east of the Mississippi.
I do fully realize there are parts of that that make no sense and fail more than a couple tests of logic, but it’s my hobby and I’ll like it the way I want to! If a birder is fulfilled by the hobby, he or she is a good birder in my opinion, regardless of whether they went after the White Wagtail that was in Michigan last year. (I didn’t.)
Psst Carrie, you have been living in Montana too long if you are getting the Catskills and the Adirondacks confused.
I generally don’t chase rarities. I did go look at that wretched Emperor Penguin, and that was enough twitching for my life. Give me a bird where it belongs any day.
It depends on the species. If it is a species that occurs in an area I am likely / hoping to visit and that will then be relatively easy to see, I won’t twitch it unless – as you mentioned – it can be one conveniently (joining others, nearby, along a route I am traveling on anyway,…). If however it is a species that is difficult no matter where you are going or that is only easy to see at places that are not easy to get to (Ross’s Gull, Ivory Gull, Emperor Penguin – yes Duncan, that was for you), I’d go for it if I can.
@Jochen. Ross’s Gulls and Ivory Gulls are at places that are not easy to get to? What?
@Clare: Yeah, right! Come on, Clare, I hear your place doesn’t even have Snowy Owls! 🙂 😉
@Jochen, yeah. We sent them all south for the winter.
Ok, answering this a little late: Last year I had an opportunity to chase a Garganey in Ohio. It was only 4 hours away from where I was attending the New River Birding Festival in W. Virginia. But, if I chased it, my drive back to NYC would expand from 9 hours to….many more hours and I would have to cancel a birding date with a friend. I decided that people are more important than birds. I regret it now, but would probably make the same choice if I got a do-over.