[The following was first written by me in 2005 in answer to many questions from fellow birders and others about my obvious deep fascination with subspecies, and the attendant identification and distribution problems and issues which inevitably are the object of so much of my attention. I believe that it was a good apologetic for subspecies investigation then, and I believe it is still such today...perhaps even more so. Furthermore, I believe this direction of effort has made me a more detail oriented and careful field observer...and in the process increased my ultimate satisfaction and joy in studying birds.]
Photo: North Park, C.J.Strike Dam, Elmore County, ID
16 February, 2008
When I first started birding the challenge was to see as many “new birds” as possible…. birds to check on, check off, and then check out from. If it was pictured in my Peterson’s or Golden Bird Guide, it was an undeniable object of desire. And like the addict which I was, I’d visually “use it up” for its instant gratification value and hurry on to my next avian fix. Concern about range, age, and plumage variation was almost non-existent. To me there were only eastern and western birds, a few immatures (that I would probably never see anyway), and those magical “arrows of identification” that gave me the necessary assurance to put that coveted check mark next to the object of my feathered lust.
Then a strange but ultimately wonderful thing happened: I moved to a very different and geographically removed part of the country and noticed that some birds that I had been used to seeing and that usually didn’t merit more than a casual look in my previous area of residence, looked a bit different than I remembered. For instance, Red-tailed Hawks were still recognizable as to species, but something had changed. But what was it? Although I did not realize it at the time, I was experiencing my first wonderful introduction to the "world of the subspecies."
It can be pointedly and rightfully asked: “Why bother?” And the answer definitely depends on if one’s interest in birds goes beyond the “lure of the lists"… the potentially endless, and often sterile daily statements of what species were seen, on which trip, sometimes even without a quantity notation, hurriedly jotted down on some soon to be lost scrap of paper. If this is where birding ends, then so does my interest level…and even mentioning subspecies is both needless and ultimately inhabiting.
But maybe, just maybe, there is another dimension to birding… an amazing “new frontier” whose understanding focuses us on distribution and dispersal and detail in a manner as never before.
First, let’s look at the basics of classification or taxonomy. All living organisms are classified into a hierarchy, with standardized Latin or Latinized names. There are seven main levels of classification in this hierarchy. From the most to the least inclusive they are: Kingdom, Phylum (of Division), Class, Order, Family, Genus, and Species. Subspecies are a grouping of organisms that differ from other members of their species by a possible combination of color, size, or various morphological and genetic characteristics. Often these subspecific groupings are called a “race.” What makes subspecific birding a bit tricky is the reality that sometimes races of a species are distinguishable and therefore recognizable in the field… and quite often they are not, only being classified by “in hand” examination, or through DNA sample comparisons, both obviously unavailable to the average birder.
Additionally, and hopefully not to confuse, there are what we call “morphs,” which do not necessarily represent different subspecies. A morph is an observable typing, quite often characterized by the color of a species, and may be inclusive of more than one subspecies. So for instance, a dark morph Red-tailed Hawk may be a possibility in various subspecies of the one species, namely Red-tailed Hawk.
Confused yet? Still hanging in there with me? OK, let’s dig a bit deeper.
Let’s say that one fall season you notice Mountain Chickadees showing up at your backyard feeder and also unexpectedly on you weekend lowland forays. You know that they belong in the mountains, and make the easy and reasonable assumption that they have “come down” for the winter. But what if it were possible to identify the chickadees you are seeing as to subspecies and thereby be able to tell what maintains they had come down from? Maybe they are not from the population of birds closest to home, but because of some trigger event in their normal area of residence, they have moved to your town and your backyard to seek food and ensure survival? Wouldn’t that make for a much more satisfying identification than to just mark down another “generic” Mountain Chickadee seen?
And consider the much taken for granted “I see them every day, without even looking for them” Canada Goose. Somewhere on their subconscious mental snapshots taken, most birders knew that this ubiquitous waterfowl came in different sizes, shapes and shades. But it has only been since the American Ornithologists Union and the American Birding Association pronounced that “science” has demonstrated that there are really 11 subspecies of 2 distinct species, that the birding fraternity has started paying attention. [You didn’t thank that a Brantaphile like me would get through this piece without mentioning my beloved white-cheeked geese subspecies, did you?] That wonderful bonus of listing, “the split,” always involves previously recognized subspecies. Remember the “species origins” of Juniper Titmouse, Cassin’s Vireo, Cordilleran Flycatcher, and others? And what about when taxonomists reverse the process and "lump" species, making them subspecies, as with Red-shafted Flicker, Oregon Junco, and Audubon’s Warbler? And in case you think it's all finished, just around the corner are nine subspecies of Red Crossbill clamoring for full-fledged species status (one endemic to Idaho), to say nothing of the Fox Sparrow.
Who is there that lifts binoculars to follow the flight of that unidentified treetop denizen or squints through a scope at mere blobs bouncing in the waves that doesn’t want to increase and fine-tune their powers of identification? Believe me when I state that there is absolutely no better way to make that happen than to practice the careful attention to detail that subspecies id requires. Subtle differences in color or pattern, bill shape, feather extension, even vocalization differences make up the wonderful world of the subspecies.
Do I have your interest yet? Are you willing to give it a try? Obviously, you will need an id source to give you an idea of what to look for. A very simple (and to be noted, often over-simplified) place to start is with the differences noted by Sibley in his field guides. Going a small step further would be to look at his website pages dealing with subspecies www.sibleyguides.com/subspecies.htm Pull out your book and compare it to names and comments on the web.
Are you hooked yet? Want to go further? Get a copy of the AOU Checklist (1957) with Supplements, or subscribe to Birds of North America online (Cornell Laboratory of Ornithology). Begin taking notes and photos… even of the “common stuff”…and then compare as you travel to different geographical areas or diverse habitats. Note if there are species in your state or region which comprise more than one race, and then as you travel begin taking note of the visual or vocal differences. In so doing, often the common becomes rare, and the rare finally becomes geographically placeable.
But some words of caution are in order, now that you’re all ready to go “subspecies hunting.” First, get to know the birds well, even the very common ones, in your area. Take notes, draw sketches, and snap photos. Second, when you see that bird that looks a bit different, or is in an area where a distinct subspecies should occur, understand that many subspecies are clinal, that is they have overlapping characteristics, often poorly understood or documented. Finally, continue to carefully note differences from your home population when looking at as wide a slice of birds as possible which may be present in a new area.
Here it would be wise to note that some have taken a fancy to using – and even listing or counting – “identifiable forms.” This is not necessarily the same as subspecies identification. An identifiable form may be inclusive of more than one subspecies, or conversely more than one identifiable form may comprise a single recognized race, as where locally distinct, yet consistent, clinal differences are present.
So in summary, why should birders bother with subspecies?
1. As an alternative to traditional listing
2. As a tool for new and expanded awareness of species distribution and dispersal patterns
3. As a path to a more careful attention to plumage and vocal details, and thus an attendant increase in overall identification skills
4. As a potential addition to developing a species/subspecies knowledge base
5. As a facilitation to a more thorough understanding of actual and potential “splits” and “lumps,” before, after, and as they occur.
So if you’re looking for a new challenge in birding, try entering the wonderful world of the subspecies. You won't regret taking the plunge!
Then a strange but ultimately wonderful thing happened: I moved to a very different and geographically removed part of the country and noticed that some birds that I had been used to seeing and that usually didn’t merit more than a casual look in my previous area of residence, looked a bit different than I remembered. For instance, Red-tailed Hawks were still recognizable as to species, but something had changed. But what was it? Although I did not realize it at the time, I was experiencing my first wonderful introduction to the "world of the subspecies."
It can be pointedly and rightfully asked: “Why bother?” And the answer definitely depends on if one’s interest in birds goes beyond the “lure of the lists"… the potentially endless, and often sterile daily statements of what species were seen, on which trip, sometimes even without a quantity notation, hurriedly jotted down on some soon to be lost scrap of paper. If this is where birding ends, then so does my interest level…and even mentioning subspecies is both needless and ultimately inhabiting.
But maybe, just maybe, there is another dimension to birding… an amazing “new frontier” whose understanding focuses us on distribution and dispersal and detail in a manner as never before.
First, let’s look at the basics of classification or taxonomy. All living organisms are classified into a hierarchy, with standardized Latin or Latinized names. There are seven main levels of classification in this hierarchy. From the most to the least inclusive they are: Kingdom, Phylum (of Division), Class, Order, Family, Genus, and Species. Subspecies are a grouping of organisms that differ from other members of their species by a possible combination of color, size, or various morphological and genetic characteristics. Often these subspecific groupings are called a “race.” What makes subspecific birding a bit tricky is the reality that sometimes races of a species are distinguishable and therefore recognizable in the field… and quite often they are not, only being classified by “in hand” examination, or through DNA sample comparisons, both obviously unavailable to the average birder.
Additionally, and hopefully not to confuse, there are what we call “morphs,” which do not necessarily represent different subspecies. A morph is an observable typing, quite often characterized by the color of a species, and may be inclusive of more than one subspecies. So for instance, a dark morph Red-tailed Hawk may be a possibility in various subspecies of the one species, namely Red-tailed Hawk.
Confused yet? Still hanging in there with me? OK, let’s dig a bit deeper.
Let’s say that one fall season you notice Mountain Chickadees showing up at your backyard feeder and also unexpectedly on you weekend lowland forays. You know that they belong in the mountains, and make the easy and reasonable assumption that they have “come down” for the winter. But what if it were possible to identify the chickadees you are seeing as to subspecies and thereby be able to tell what maintains they had come down from? Maybe they are not from the population of birds closest to home, but because of some trigger event in their normal area of residence, they have moved to your town and your backyard to seek food and ensure survival? Wouldn’t that make for a much more satisfying identification than to just mark down another “generic” Mountain Chickadee seen?
And consider the much taken for granted “I see them every day, without even looking for them” Canada Goose. Somewhere on their subconscious mental snapshots taken, most birders knew that this ubiquitous waterfowl came in different sizes, shapes and shades. But it has only been since the American Ornithologists Union and the American Birding Association pronounced that “science” has demonstrated that there are really 11 subspecies of 2 distinct species, that the birding fraternity has started paying attention. [You didn’t thank that a Brantaphile like me would get through this piece without mentioning my beloved white-cheeked geese subspecies, did you?] That wonderful bonus of listing, “the split,” always involves previously recognized subspecies. Remember the “species origins” of Juniper Titmouse, Cassin’s Vireo, Cordilleran Flycatcher, and others? And what about when taxonomists reverse the process and "lump" species, making them subspecies, as with Red-shafted Flicker, Oregon Junco, and Audubon’s Warbler? And in case you think it's all finished, just around the corner are nine subspecies of Red Crossbill clamoring for full-fledged species status (one endemic to Idaho), to say nothing of the Fox Sparrow.
Who is there that lifts binoculars to follow the flight of that unidentified treetop denizen or squints through a scope at mere blobs bouncing in the waves that doesn’t want to increase and fine-tune their powers of identification? Believe me when I state that there is absolutely no better way to make that happen than to practice the careful attention to detail that subspecies id requires. Subtle differences in color or pattern, bill shape, feather extension, even vocalization differences make up the wonderful world of the subspecies.
Do I have your interest yet? Are you willing to give it a try? Obviously, you will need an id source to give you an idea of what to look for. A very simple (and to be noted, often over-simplified) place to start is with the differences noted by Sibley in his field guides. Going a small step further would be to look at his website pages dealing with subspecies www.sibleyguides.com/subspecies.htm Pull out your book and compare it to names and comments on the web.
Are you hooked yet? Want to go further? Get a copy of the AOU Checklist (1957) with Supplements, or subscribe to Birds of North America online (Cornell Laboratory of Ornithology). Begin taking notes and photos… even of the “common stuff”…and then compare as you travel to different geographical areas or diverse habitats. Note if there are species in your state or region which comprise more than one race, and then as you travel begin taking note of the visual or vocal differences. In so doing, often the common becomes rare, and the rare finally becomes geographically placeable.
But some words of caution are in order, now that you’re all ready to go “subspecies hunting.” First, get to know the birds well, even the very common ones, in your area. Take notes, draw sketches, and snap photos. Second, when you see that bird that looks a bit different, or is in an area where a distinct subspecies should occur, understand that many subspecies are clinal, that is they have overlapping characteristics, often poorly understood or documented. Finally, continue to carefully note differences from your home population when looking at as wide a slice of birds as possible which may be present in a new area.
Here it would be wise to note that some have taken a fancy to using – and even listing or counting – “identifiable forms.” This is not necessarily the same as subspecies identification. An identifiable form may be inclusive of more than one subspecies, or conversely more than one identifiable form may comprise a single recognized race, as where locally distinct, yet consistent, clinal differences are present.
So in summary, why should birders bother with subspecies?
1. As an alternative to traditional listing
2. As a tool for new and expanded awareness of species distribution and dispersal patterns
3. As a path to a more careful attention to plumage and vocal details, and thus an attendant increase in overall identification skills
4. As a potential addition to developing a species/subspecies knowledge base
5. As a facilitation to a more thorough understanding of actual and potential “splits” and “lumps,” before, after, and as they occur.
So if you’re looking for a new challenge in birding, try entering the wonderful world of the subspecies. You won't regret taking the plunge!
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