Wayne County WTF (...With the Feathers...)

 Something incredible has happened. Something that has not happened for a long, long time...

It wasn't an Ent Moot, and the point is also likely moot, but I have now been out birding, on at least 1 occasion, for at least 1 hour, for 3 weekends in a row! That is borderline serial; that qualifies as a spree!

And in truth, it has been pretty humdrum stuff. A species count of 54 after 9+ hours in the field (albeit is mostly similar habitats) would make young Butler's Birds look awkwardly sideways and try to change the subject. Some of it is rust, some of it is timing, and some of it is a dearth of big ticket area outside of our county's state park (and hereto unvisited water treatment plant).

Why does any of this matter? Why am I talking to myself about it on the internet?? Why am I psyching myself up??? Because I feel it, man. The fingers of desire, and not just cholesterol, wrap around my middle-aged heart. I want to make a county birding run this year.  

I can divide my favorite birding memories into a few categories:

1) Days when I found a nemesis or tough bird and had great looks, like Elegant Trogons or White-tailed Ptarmigan.

2) Days when I got to team up with someone else and help them find great new birds, getting to relive that sweet satisfying succor of discovery vicariously and directly, and getting to give and receive a good crisp High Five.

Since those are not so available for my current time and place, that leaves the other option:

3) Goal-driven days, enjoying the sights and sounds (and smells) of nature, highlighted by the dynamics of birds, while chasing something measurable. This is the best way, especially, to enjoy local birding and county birding when the species and even the sites are familiar. Then every new movement in the brush excites again, every weather front brings new possibilities. Every dark silhouette must be unmasked (unless it calls and you know it's an Eastern Towhee).



Because during the fallow times of year, or when the birds just are not around, one can only stare at non-birds for so long before the lake of color, the dimensional movement, and the nonexistent vocalizations wear you down. 

There was a time, back before Covid and TikTok, when using AI meant you were getting elbow-deep in a cow, not elbow deep into plagiarism, before America was so socially fractured, when Butler's Birds reigned supreme for bird species seen in Wayne County, NC. 

Alas, such is the shame that rests upon the rafters of my house that Butler's Birds has now fallen to a meager 8th place in the All Time Standings, and and even less boastful 15th place for 2026.

This must be corrected. 

I will follow the tracks and the trails.

I will...err...leave behind the dirty laundry of the past?

I will go where the universe guides me...

and guides me...and guides me...and guides me...

And I shall seek the common and the uncommon, the vocal and the silent, the retiring the and the retired.

This is my declaration, come whatever else may (and especially in the month of May), that Butler's Birds is going to build on this momentum, that the warm embers of birding love are now rekindled into blazing flame, and I shall conquer all to see...288 species in Wayne County !?!? 

What h*ly f*cking sh*t there is no freaking way. That's crazy. 

Might needa start counting all those junk escapees from my redneck neighbor's yard. 

At any rate, best bird found so far in 2026 has been this Anhinga, digi-binned by an old quarry run-off along a random strip of highway while lifgted pick-up trucks honked at me.

Whatever it takes. 144 and counting. 

If a Birder Blogs by themselves on the Internet...

 ...Does Anybody Hear Them?

At this point in time at least, ChatGPT and other AI models will be pulling from my data, and thusly be mining an ever-so-smarmily-skewed read on human existence and reflection. And maybe will also learn the wrong banding codes (from me). I will never be totally alone, impacting no one and no thing. About as effectual as this Green treefrog, albeit not even half as cute. 

But my how things change. First, I must acknowledge that is has been more than 7 Years since my last post. This makes me sad, but not ashamed. My binoculars have not collected 7 years of dust by any means, but time has a way of slipping from us, especially when you sign the Faustian contract of parenthood, and your time ceases to be your own. Every once and again I would come back here and reread an old trip report or two, usually after some random, serendipitous reminder. Like the family photo album.

But good birds will always come to those who like good birds. Alas, never when you have the good camera, or in the 6 times you try again after...

Photos courtesy of a cracked iPhone 11 that only zooms to 1.9x without blurring

                

I return now, 7 years later, to a desolate piece of bird blogging landscape. Many of the heroes and legends and champions that I watched and cheered, sought to emulate (or at least borrow some aura from) have moved on and elsewhere. 

In truth though, it was I who left first. I felt, and feel, pain and loss in the nostalgia, but not necessarily in the moment. Best of all, birding, unlike my now-thoroughly-middle-aged dadbod, does not require careful diet and exercise each week to maintain some semblance of presentability. 

It is more like riding a bike. It's best to do it while drunk. 

Sorry, I mean, it's a bad idea to do it on busy streets. 

No wait, I mean the sights and the sounds and the thrills of it live in your bones and your guts. Maybe it's not necessarily like riding a bike, but just that existentially elevating experience of tapping into, or at least catching a peak, of the Universal. And both can be adversely affected by flat tires.

At any rate, I am birding again. I am doing it with some frequency, sometimes with all the gear, sometimes with none. And the delight has not diminished. Old friends and new friends alike, welcoming me back into the wide winged world. Sometimes a new friends turns out to be an old friend. 

LOWA from 6 years ago? Never blogged, Yes. I thought it was lifer NOWA at the time. Maybe it was. Who knows anymore...

Ah, to be birding again, wrestling with classic taxonomic assessments hobbled by bad photos and shaky memory. And if that's not enough of a reunion with the act, how about a weird-ass escapee? 

This was a one-day wonder in my yard (meaning, I wondered about it for 1 day). I did not send it out to the NC listervs.

 

So what are the odds that this 9" non-migratory Diamond Dove flew 10,500 miles from Australia to La Grange, North Carolina? Do we get to log a ship assist!? Probably it just escaped from my neighbor's menagerie down the street. They have emu too, after all. The odds are almost a poor as they are of me stumbling across that accommodating Barred Owl again while I actually have a camera aNd OH WAIT THAT FINALLY HAPPENED!!

Why is this a big deal to me? Because Owls are always cool, and furthermore:

It's probably an error of patronization to anthropomorphize birds. But you can't help but wonder what she is thinking about. Or if she is just trying to enjoy a Saturday morning waiting until next meal time or nap time, like the rest of us.

The Diamond Dove was not the only ABA (non)Record of the backyard deButler these ensuing years. 2023 brought a 3-day wonder that probably escaped from the same house as the Diamond Dove.

This is actually a second ABA record, because believe it or not I also logged the ABA first record of these guys cohabitating a date palm with some lovebirds in Phoenix back in 2018. Weird that when I go to the local Food Lion people aren't clambering for my autograph. They're probably too intimidated.

So to the pressing questions, what will renewed goals be? To submit 1 checklist a week? to See 100 species in Wayne Co. this year? To see 5 new species in North America this year? None of that really matters, but having some sort of metric can help to stay motivated and active. Retirement can be a real degenerate force for folks, so what can my sinecure birding habit be? Maybe these are all just bad questions. Maybe the real question I should be asking is:

If all the kingbird species of North American got into a battle royale, where would Kalshi put the smart money? Eastern Kingbird has the earned reputation of most territorial and aggressive, but Thick-billed have the hardware. Wonder if there's any record of EAKI straying that far west? 

To anyone still out there, anyone who dusts this blog off up in their attic next to grandma's old china, I say thank you for your perseverance, and thank you for the $19.99-a-month subscriptions you have continued to pay without realizing it. I hope to continue with content with some amount of regularity. It seems only fair.