One of my favorite Sesame Street characters has always been Count von Count, or more affectionately, just The Count. Whether attracted by the exaggerated eastern European accent reminiscent of Bela Lugosi, the overdone vampire-like Count Dracula appearance, his uncanny ability to put the entire physical and conceptual world into the context of numbers, or a combination of all three, I’m not sure. But I definitely thought The Count was cool and that imitating him by walking around the house counting everything in sight with that unmistakable and oh so artificial accent, all for the benefit of my boys of course, was actually most enjoyable. OK, I admit it, for some genetically inescapable reason, I like to count things… including birds, not in an arithmomania fashion, but definitely a greater than average fondness. And if you’re reading this, you probably do also.Most of us have life lists, while some keep state, county, locality, and perhaps even backyard all-time or less extensive time period list. Maybe you have the counting affliction a bit more strongly and count birds each year, even month, or heaven help you, each week or day. But let me ask a leading and very important question.
Exactly what is it that you’re counting? My guess is that for the most part you’re counting the number of species you personally see and identify. Rarely do we count numbers of birds, unless they happen to also be rare, and it hits you that it sounds somewhat more impressive to say that you saw “three Yellow-bellied Lintcatchers.” Of course, there are the institutionalized counts in which we periodically imbibe, such as Christmas Bird Counts, an occasional Breeding Bird Census, Project Feeder Watch, and the relatively new Great Backyard Bird Count. Successful and respected as these may be, how many birders count birds every time that they go out, not just for special occasions? Some of us have enough trouble keeping track of the number of species we see on any given day (if we even do that), no less individual birds.
OK, some of you faithfully enter your foray stats into either eBird or BirdNotes, both commendable activities. And to you The Count respectfully bows and addresses his most sincere, but still maniacal approval. But from personal experience I know how many of those lists are completed is for the birder to go home, open up the appropriate website, enter the locality information, and check off the species, guessing at numbers seen, especially if it is a species that was encountered multiple times during the day… and is considered “common.”
Let’s just cut to the chase… uh sorry, I mean the count. While at times estimates of some species numbers is an inescapable reality (for instance, I don’t/can’t count each individual Red-winged Blackbird at Ted Trueblood WMA, even if I wanted to do so), and with practice we can teach ourselves to estimate in a reasonably accurate fashion, whenever possible actually counting birds in a manner that would make The Count proud is a valuable skill that we should unfailingly practice every time we go out birding.
I spent part of the early 70’s birding in California with the likes of Jon Dunn (Chief Advisor to NGS Birds of North America, AOU Checklist Committee member and Wings guide) and Guy McCaskie (undisputed dean of California birders, author, and longtime Editor of the South Pacific Coast Region for North American Birds journal), and was taught many of my first birding practices and skills by C. Roy Smith, a pioneer birding expert in Michigan. I’m indebted to these three and others since for immeasurably adding to my field ornithology skills, consciousness, practices, and perspective (quite often even without their knowledge of the gifts they were giving to me). One thing that I learned in that early “birding enlightenment” process was to always count, never just identify. Or restated, be very detailed and precise in your identifications, but also know how many of each carefully identified bird (and they all should be “carefully identified”) is present at any given locality. Soon after moving to Maryland, I received a thick envelope of typewritten pages from one of the above mentioned mentors, chronicling their year birding all across California (in case it was too long ago for some of you, typewriters were used before computers to neatly print what most people would not attempt to read if it were written by hand). Guess what I found throughout each page? Right you are…numbers, counts…highs, lows, averages.
The logical question that begs to be answered is “Why?” Why not just go out, enjoy the day and the birds, and not worry about how many there are. Who cares?
Let’s use the example of an established, institutionalized count, the annual Christmas Bird Count. Without numbers, accurate numbers, it is impossible to detect population variation… from year to year, as well as over longer spans. Also, recognition of deviations in distribution from place to place becomes a rich source of avian movement trends, abnormalities, habitat usage, and even potential heretofore unknown danger signals in targeted populations. And if we learn anything from CBCs it is that putting all the pieces together is fun. Just look at the evening group get-togethers which follow most Christmas Bird Counts… long faces, grumpy people because of all that counting, right? Wrong.
Here’s my challenge to myself and to you too… Whenever possible, count. Count the individuals, if necessary estimating the large flocks. Record them somewhere where they are accessible. Compare them. Share them.
Make The Count proud!
