Several weekends ago, I was birding at the Paulinskill Wildlife Management Area, a favorite local spot of mine. I had just parked my truck and stood alongside the road, hands in my pockets, listening. At first nothing...it was dead quiet in contrast to the din of car engine and radio I was lost in moments ago. Then slowly dead silence resolved into quiet babble. There was the high, sharp notes of titmice overhead. The short, agitated clucks of a nuthatch came from off to my left. The thin, wispy calls of Cedar Waxings drifted across the breeze. A cacophony of urgent chip notes gave away my quarry, a feeding flock of sparrows.Grassy alleys wove in among dense shrub thickets, primarily of Multifloral Rose and Japanese Honeysuckle. Dozens of sparrows scratched about on the ground, producing a soft, constant rustle as if someone was ceaselessly crinkling a paper bag in their hands. Quick, furtive movements could be seen throughout the underbrush. There was a brief flash of rufous. A fox sparrow perhaps? I brought my hands out of pockets and held my binoculars lightly, preparing to scan. I took a deep breath and I pished.
For the unintiated, 'pishing' is a catch-all term for the battery of noises meant to drive birds completely crazy and make birders look completely ridiculous. It includes exaggerated shushing sounds, kissy face squeaks, and sharp chips produced by sucking on the back of your hand. All are meant to emulate noises birds make when they are agitated, such as when a predator approaches. Think of it as the universal bird code to say, 'Stop and pay attention, trouble is near!!!'. It is a wonderful piece of interspecific adaptation. One alarm call and everybody in the area, from kinglets to jays, is on high alert.
Birds are incredibly curious creatures. They are not often content to simply know that danger is afoot. They want to see what exactly is going on. When pishing, birders use this curiosity to their advantage, luring skulky individuals out into the open and gaining clear, identifiable looks. This is precisely what happened when I pished at these sparrows. Almost immediately the rustling ceased and several hopped up to the highest branches of the shrubs in which they fed. I scanned fast; a dozen or so Song Sparrows and several White Throated Sparrows regarded me back. One close individual gave me what I can only imagine is the avian version of a withering glance and the birds vanished into the brush. The ensuing silence was perforated only by a single titmouse who was not so quick to deem that I was no threat and hopped nervously along a branch just eight feet above my head, scolding me in threes.
Such is pishing; effective yet fleeting. Before long, birds will recognize a false alarm and vanish once again. Using this approach, your success relies on your ability to sort through and quickly identify individuals. Not surprisingly it can be vexing for beginners, or for someone who is in a new locale where they do not know the avifauna well. It also makes it difficult, if not impossible, to observe behavior. You see birds in only one state, highly agitated, and I can assure you that will be any species at its least interesting.
Awhile later I was standing a bit downslope, having followed the flock of sparrows into a sunny glade. This time I made no noise and I stood as still as was comfortable. As before dozens of birds flitted among the bushes. My eyes chased brown flashes in and out of shadows, but I let my binoculars hang motionless around my neck and I waited. Ten or more minutes had elapsed before the first intrepid bird hopped out of cover to forage in the grass, an especially brawny looking Song Sparrow. This bird was joined by others; first more song sparrows, then white throateds, and a single field. Several more minutes passed and a fox sparrow, an especially shy species, emerged from the depths of a nearby rose tangle. By now many birds were feeding out in the open, indifferent to my presence. I stood transfixed, not focusing on any single bird, but taking in the entire scene all at once. The spell was broken when a fox, unaware of my presence, came trotting along her trail and approached within ten feet of me before realizing the error. We both started and she turned and ran back from where we came. Immediately the air was filled with alarm calls and the sparrows that had been feeding in my midst vanished once again.
When I go out into the field, I pay close attention to my mood. Wild creatures are highly acute. They have to be; if you are not constantly aware you get eaten or conversely, miss your chance to eat. Nervousness, anxiety, frustration...these are all states of being that a bird will be able to sense even in the slightest. They are also conditions we frequently cope with in our busy, modern society. When we try to go from our world into nature without letting these emotions go, we see very little. Animals flee from us, so we resort to pishing. Instead of taking the time to fall into rhythm with the birds' world, we spread our own agitation around to draw them out. In the end we not only distract birds from their typical behavior, we miss an opportunity for more acute observation.
Here are a few guidelines if you wish to try such an exercise yourself. It really is pretty simple stuff. I will be the first to admit that I am FAR from an expert woodsman yet the difference "slow birding" made in my second encounter with the sparrows is striking.
- Before you go out, take a deep breath. Try and push your human world concerns aside. Relax, quiet your mind, and open up your senses. This is your time to interact with nature, don't spoil it by fretting over grocery shopping or whatever else!
- Go slow. We have all experienced the jolt of excitement when we come across a large concentration of birds. Immediately your mind is tearing around at one hundred miles an hour and you're frantically trying to determine where to look first. Don't fall into this trap! Move slowly, a wild animal will associate quick jerky movements and an excited temperament with danger and be gone before you have time to raise your binoculars. Trust in the fact that if you provide no disturbance, birds will have no reason to defer from feeding or whatever else they're up to.
- Familiarize yourself with bird language. By this I do not mean the identification of birds by ear (although that is helpful as well, see below). Listen to the calls you hear and pay attention to the mood. An annoyed bird is just as easily identifiable as an annoyed person. If the birds in your vicinity are excited, its probably time to stand quietly and wait.
- Minimize binocular use. The best way to freak a bird out is to put a pair of three inch wide, shiny eyes on it. Try to practice identifying birds without using your binoculars at all. You'll be surprised at how close some individuals will get if you're still and quiet. Knowing a variety of call notes is also very helpful. If you're looking through a flock of warblers consisting of some two hundred Yellow Rumps with maybe a few different species mixed in, knowing a rump call note will allow you to key in on something that sounds different. Concentrate on learning the species you most commonly encounter first, both by voice and by unaided sight. Reserve the binoculars for something that seems unusual.
- Stand still. Wilderness educator and bird language guru Jon Young says you must be still and quiet for 15 minutes before birds will become acclimated to your presence. Who knows what you might see then! Birds are rich in behavior, there is always something new and fascinating to learn about even the most common species. Such a practice will also sharpen your ID skills by forcing you to pay attention to detail. Such careful observation feeds directly into your "search image" for a particular creature. This is another instinctive behavior birders use, whether one realizes it or not. Maximize your search potential by observing birds in all states.
Lycopodium digitatum A. Br., Bashakill WMA
