A Good Bird

One pleasant day at Halibut Point this fall a nondescript little bird showed itself momentarily within the brushy foliage across the pond. Since my camera with telephoto lens was already focused in the area I was able to snap a picture to study at home. Consultation with field guides indicated that it was a Philadelphia Vireo in migration.

Philadelphia Vireo

Some combination of uncertainty, curiosity, and possible pride led me to email the photo to Chris Leahy who has gently and generously clarified many points ornithological in the course of these Notes. Chris confirmed the identity and added, "Good bird."

We sat down for coffee recently to discuss what he meant by that term. I supplied him with a few photos of additional candidates.

Chris elaborated on the little fellow who started us on the topic. "A Philadelphia Vireo is not a rare bird, but it's an uncommon bird that occurs only during a couple of windows in May and September. It might be mixed in among a flock of Yellow-rumped Warblers or Ruby-crowned Kinglets. You can never count on seeing one. It's unexpected.

"That's differentiated from a bird that is uniquely beautiful. Most people wouldn't be knocked out by a Philadelphia Vireo, a little greenish, grayish, yellowish thing. They'd wonder, that's a 'good bird?' It's a very in-crowd kind of jargon."
 

Black-legged Kittiwakes
Juvenile, left, and adults

Partly in the interest of semantics I introduced these pictures of Kittiwakes which had flown past Halibut Point one day earlier this month, quite far out at sea, rather dove-like with a rolling fluttery pattern that distinguished them from other gulls. Once again I was excited to identify them from the photo enlargements at home. But were they a 'good bird?'

Kittiwakes, detail

"Yes," Chris agreed, "that was a good bird for you personally. It's a matter of context. They're seasonal here and pelagic, spending most of their time out at sea where they're quite common. But if I pointed my scope toward the horizon I could probably see one on most days from late November to mid-March.

"I'd say it's more of a 'cool' bird than a 'good' bird. You can tell them as far away as you can see them by their bounding flight, which is quite different from the similar-looking Bonaparte Gull. It's a version of dynamic soaring, like gannets do, flying upwind by getting the wind to push them up and then flying forward as their own weight pulls them down. It's a way to move without using a lot of energy. I always get a little charge out of seeing Kittiwakes. So yes, they're cool."

King Eider, eighty yards offshore

I presented my recent photo of this King Eider at Halibut Point into our caffeinated 'good bird' sweepstakes. It was my first sighting. Glamorous. Although a breeder in the Arctic tundra it had an exotic 'escaped-from-the-Tropics' appearance. Here on Cape Ann it is indisputably a 'good bird' both as an aesthetic pleasure and a rarity. An event.

King Eider and Harlequin Duck

Ingenuously the King Eider had paddled up to a group of Harlequin Ducks, the reigning spectacular birds of our winter shoreline. It approached without the least air of self-importance.

Serious birders come from all over the country to see the Harlequin Ducks that congregate around Halibut Point. We are a drive-up, open access observatory for this beauty of the North Atlantic. Chris recalled the excitement of his first sighting, on an expedition from Marblehead. In those days the most likely success in Eastern Massachusetts would have been in the surf below Hammond Castle in Magnolia. "I was about twelve or thirteen when I saw my first Harlequin Duck. That was definitely a good bird. A bird that is rare, beautiful, that you've never seen before--a trifecta of 'cool,' a good bird."

Some shift in the natural order has brought wintering Harlequin Ducks south by the score to our coastline in recent years. Those of us who frequent Halibut Point look forward to the sunny days when their multicolored plumage shines to best advantage. But we never pay attention to numbers, lest their precious abundance give way to the dark irony of 'trash bird' categorization.

The King Eider retains its monarchical, elite status in local waters. If you're lucky enough to see one you have to look at its finery section-by-section, since the whole is incomprehensible. It sets the standard for a good bird...unless you've just now been enthralled by a chickadee at your feeder.