I suppose it is an inevitable part of living up here full time, and not getting out in over four years, and consequently seeing only a couple of dozen species on a regular basis, and only one species for months at a time. I can’t identify birds anymore (looks shamefully at his feet). Now I know that there are those that would argue that I was never that good at it anyway, but I’m really really bad now.
The good news is, as frustrating as discovering this loss of skill was, I found I could still enjoy all these mystery birds, and that my heart is full of the joy that birdsong brings.
Spring had sprung in France while I was there, trees were beginning to bud out, tulips and daffodils were blooming, and the air was filled with birdsong. I spent a lot of time in cemeteries and around memorials when I was in France. After all this trip was primarily about honouring my grandfather, my namesake, and the tens of thousands of young men who fought in both world wars. I was surprised, and I have no idea why, just how plentiful birds were in France, and in particular how plentiful they were in the many cemeteries that punctuate the landscape of Normandy and Flanders.
My first real stop after landing at Paris was at Beny-Sur-Mer Cemetery in Normandy. So far I’d managed to identify Rooks (Corvus frugilegus) Wood Pigeons (Columba palumbus) and House Sparrows (Passer domesticus) from the speeding car. Beny-Sur-Mer was an extremely emotional for me (as was most of the trip) because it is where my namesake lies buried. A part of the emotion that was welling up in me though came from the beauty of the spot, and a large part of that was the birdsong. The cemetery was alive with birdsong, and after I spent my time honouring Clare and the others that lie buried there, I went back to the car and got my binoculars. This is where things started breaking down.
The first bird I noticed was obviously a large thrush (Turdus sp.) looking very (American) Robin like in behaviour. All black with a yellow bill, that should be pretty easy. And it was… back at the car it was easy to identify as a Blackbird (Turdus merula). Things went kind of downhill from there. There were birds in the trees, I knew there were but be damned if I could find them. Finally I saw a small bird fly into a lone tree and quickly put my binoculars up. It was very co-operative. Okay this should be easy. I gathered my field marks while it sang beautifully. When it flew away it was time to get going, as we still didn’t have a room for the night. I quickly looked in the Bird Guide but obviously it was a species previously unknown in Europe as I couldn’t find it any where. What a find. If only I knew what it was I could alert someone, to this incredible find.
At Courselles-Sur-Mer, I found a White Wagtail (Motacilla alba) which is pretty unmistakable, and a very co-operative Meadow Pipit (Anthus pratensis) in the dunes near the parking lot of the Juno Beach Centre. The pipit allowed me all the time to glass it, then compare field marks in the guide (I went back tot he car and got it) and finally figure out which one it was, or rather which one I believe it was. Then a little farther on there was my bird from the cemetery. How remarkable that I was able to find two of this species previously unknown to man. Hmm. Maybe I better consult that Bird Guide again. Nope it still wasn’t in there.
There were some successes as I went along. But for the most part I’d see a bird, and then would struggle with what it was. Poor looks, looks I thought were pretty good, great looks, it just didn’t seem to matter. I’d get back to the car and the bird guide and I’d draw blanks. I did get to see a pair of Great Tits (Parus major) (okay, you know that I’ve been waiting a long time to use that line.) and Blue Tits (Parus caeruleus), and a few others. And everywhere, everywhere, was this beautiful little finch like bird, with the beautiful song that was apparently new to science, or inexplicably left out of the best guide to the Birds of Europe.
I have to admit that I didn’t dedicate a lot of my time to birds, most of my time was spent in cemeteries and monuments and on roads where apparently 130 km/hr plants you firmly in the slow lane. And I didn’t even realize that a car powered by a lawn mower engine could go that fast. But the birds I saw I enjoyed. Commonwealth War Cemeteries seem to be a great magnet to bird song, and the warm spring air was always filled with it. So what if I no longer have any skills that I was once quite proud of, who can feel down with bird song ringing in their ears. Especially the omnipresent mystery bird.
Finally, on the flight home I took one last longing look through my Bird Guide, and wait, there it was. They didn’t leave it out after all. Hmm. it is a Chaffinch (Fringilla coelebs), and err, its apparently the second most common bird in Europe. Sigh, perhaps that part of my brain is like a muscle and just needs a little more exercise. Maybe next trip will be all about the birds.
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Sadly I have had the same thing happen! I got my BSc in Wildlife Biology and I knew hundreds of birds, plants and insects. Well… I cannot remember a lot of the names now. And when I get out my plant book to use the key, I find myself forgetting the names of the plant parts to help me identify it! I knew so many birds just by song alone… gone from my memory. Why is it I can remember the price of butter down south as compared to our store here, but cannot remember leaf or petal patterns? My brain is hanging on to the most useless of information!
The good news is that dried garbanzo beans are not loast, they can be rehydrated. 😉
I see birds all the time, in Vermont, and I usually am good (with my Peterson guide in hand that is), but this year, I don’t know if it’s the weather all messed up, global warming or what, but we have birds here that never migrated thru here. Songs I could not identify.
I notice that as I have gotten older I seem to have forgotten most of what I’ve ever known. At least I think I have. The other night I was trying to remember the name of a book. I finally said to Roger, “It was written by Margaret Mitchell and has the word ‘wind’ in it.” Bird names slip very easily through the cracks.
Fortunately, and this may sound strange coming from a lister like me, the name is the least important aspect of the bird. Enjoying it takes precedence over identifying it, and it sounds like you had a blast.
Cemeteries are delightful spots to bird.