The Original Birdwatcher

I just came in from setting a live-trap for cats in the backyard. The neighbor’s cat has churned out two litters of kitties over the past year, and now the first litter is starting to explore its sexuality. Kittens having kittens. Too many cats.

It wouldn’t be so bad if I hadn’t spent the last decade making my yard bird-friendly. I feel like I’ve made a deal with the yard birds, and that covenant doesn’t include feeding them to cats. Cats can find their own food—that’s why God invented dumpsters. Or better yet, pet owners can care enough about their cats to keep them safely indoors, free from fleas, cars, and mean people with traps.

I’ve been accused of hating cats plenty over the years. I think that charge would stick a little better if I didn’t have a couple of kitties camped next to me on the couch right now, two backyard waifs that tricked me into adopting them. They’ve been de-wormed, de-flea-ed, and de-outdoor-ed. As a responsible pet owner, I take care of my cats.

Many cat owners make the argument that cats are born to run, and when they run, no one can control where they go. In other words, cats can go wherever they damn well please.

Not true.

Although many cat owners deny it, cats are indeed subject to the Lafayette Parish leash law. Let’s look at said ordinance:

Sec. 10-286. Running at large. No animal shall be allowed to run at large, whether he be tagged or untagged, or whether he be on private or public property, without the owner or person in charge thereof having direct physical control over such animal by means of a leash, except where such private property is the private property of such owner or person in charge. This section shall not apply to livestock. (Parish Code 1977, § 5-12)

Think cats are excluded? The parish offers this definition:

Animal means any vertebrate creature, living or dead, domestic or wild, not including humans or fish; except that, when used in reference to rabies, it shall denote animals capable of transmitting the rabies virus.

But wait, Menou doesn’t run at large. He just goes out for a prowl now and then.

At large and stray means any animal which is not within the confines of the owner's home, dog yard, pen or fenced area or is not under the direct control of the owner or designated handler by means of a leash.

Oh, those pesky laws! Somebody ought to make a law against ‘em.

So, people who say Menou has a right to rodailler aren’t thinking with the legal half of their brain. And when my neighbors excuse their kitties ripping apart the baby birds and lizards that call my back yard home because, “Hunting is their instinct,” they might do well to remember that cats aren’t the only hunter on the block.

Cat owners who exercise an open door policy with their kitties are right about one thing: It's not Menou's fault. It's not mine, either.

Haste Makes Waste.

Around the beginning of May, a flamingo was reported near Grand Chenier by a nearby resident. On May 2, Curt Sorrells and Phillip Wallace went looking for the bird during a weekend of birding the SW parishes. That morning, I decided to bird alone on the other side of the Calcasieu so I could take my time and work on photos of common birds without slowing anyone down. I especially wanted to go slowly down Holly Beach toward Peveto Woods, making sure I accounted for every bird there.

Before arriving at the beach, I got a call from Phillip. They had found the flamingo. It was banded, and I joked that it was probably an escapee from Audubon Zoo. I went on with my plans, but decided to head over to see the flamingo after I finished my route. I drove down the beach at a crawl, checking everything, photographing, videotaping, enjoying a relaxing day.

A little way down the beach, I ran into Mike Musumeche. He had seen the flamingo and taken some nice photos. I started to wonder if maybe I shouldn't head over there sooner rather than later. But, nah, it was probably just an escape from Audubon Zoo. I got back to my beach detail.

Not long afterward, as I was parked checking out a group of gulls, another vehicle pulled up behind me. I recognized the Sorrells mobile, and got out to visit with Curt and Phillip. As we talked, they mentioned how close they had been to the flamingos.

Wait, flamingos? Plural?

Yes, they told me, these were the very same flamingos that had been reported two years ago from Cameron. One was a banded American Flamingo from Mexico, the other an imported flamingo from Africa that had escaped from a zoo in Wichita, Kansas. The American Flamingo was a truly wild bird, a genuine vagrant that had first been reported in Texas. When they were seen in Cameron two years ago, they had been reported, photographed, and then returned to Texas before birders got a chance to see them.

Would I miss my chance this time? Would I go on my way, take my time to get there, and find them gone? Or should I turn around and zip there as fast as I could, and then return to bird Holly Beach and Peveto? I decided to quickly drive to Peveto, bird there, go across the Calcasieu to see the flamingos...and then come back and resume my leisurely drive down Holly Beach.

I let Curt and Phillip know my plans, then zipped on ahead down the beach highway. Still, when I saw a flock of gulls to my left, I couldn't resist. I slammed on the brakes a little past the main flock, then turned back to look at them. From my vantage point, I couldn't see anything unusual, but in my rearview I could see Phillip getting out of Curt's SUV with his videocamera. I looked to see what he was watching, but the angle was bad. He started to walk back to the car, so I drove back to check. He asked if I had seen the Great Black-backed Gull. Me? No, I was in too much of a hurry. He pointed it out, flying back to the east. We all headed out in pursuit.

Great Black-backed Gulls are rare birds in Louisiana, especially in SW Louisiana, where I can only remember seeing two over the years. It would be important to document it. We raced to where it had landed, and started filming and photographing. We got out, and I approached it. It began to get nervous, then flew east, giving good views of its wings and tail to our cameras.

It flew down to at least Holly Beach, possibly disappearing into the large gull flock on the beach there. And I drove on to Peveto, then to the flamingo spot, where I waited in vain until the sun went down for the flamingo. I wouldn't see it until noon the next day.

End of story? No, actually just a beginning.

A few days ago I finally got around to submitting a report on the Great Black-backed Gull. I looked at the photos for the first time, and was surprised. It looked much more like a Slaty-backed Gull, an Asian gull that seems to have been turning up in odd, scattered places lately, but never yet in Louisiana. In short, a really great bird. In the field, I had just looked past it. The pictures are pretty good, but they might not prove whatever it is, or eliminate whatever it isn't. If not, it just goes to show that when watching birds, it pays to concentrate on the bird at hand and not look too far ahead. A bird in the hand, you know.

Reports and photos at: http://www.losbird.org/lbrc/viewreport9.html

Totem Birds

Many birders talk about their favorite birds. Some base their picks on appearance or song, others simply like the way a certain bird behaves. I have no idea what makes the following birds so important to me. All I know is that no matter how many times I see them--and some of them are incredibly common--each one seems exciting. These are the birds that make me tick.

Here they are, more or less in order. Seven is my favorite number, so I'll give you my top seven.

1. Eastern Kingbird

To me, this species represents everything a bird should be. I look forward to seeing my first each spring, and every one afterward until the last flock vanishes in early fall.

2. Yellow-rumped (Myrtle) Warbler

There doesn't seem to be anything this small songbird can't do, or any habitat in Louisiana where they can't be found in winter. Birders tire of them because they're so common, and maybe because they're so tricky. Many a birder has pulled up binoculars to investigate a strange bird only to find that it's just a Yellow-rump doing something strange.

I can't think of many sights more exciting than watching a flock of Yellow-rumps flashing through a wax myrtle bush in winter, their bright yellow patches lighting up a gray day. Probably not too many birders would agree...

3. Yellow-headed Blackbird

I remember looking out of my window one day when I was a kid and noticing that one of the Red-winged Blackbirds had a bright yellow head. I woke up my brother, and all we could figure was that someone had painted the bird's head. Not long after, my parents bought me a Golden Guide and I found our friend in it. I've seen a few since, and each one is just as exciting as the first.

4. Bobwhite

The simple but beautiful call of this bird is often the only sign of the hidden community of creatures that live at the edge of the human world, retreating as progress advances. Loud, clear, and cautious, the call is often all we detect of this bird. The occasional sighting as they creep into the open or explode at our feet is always memorable.

5. Snow Goose

Very few things are as exciting to me as hearing the first flocks of Snow Geese flying over on a cool autumn night, arriving in Louisiana for the winter. After a long jungle summer, the arctic returns.

6. Swainson's Hawk

Remember when this bird was a rarity in Louisiana? I haven't forgotten. I still get just as excited to see one today, in state or out.

7. Upland Sandpiper

I found my first one in my uncle's field and then I found it in his copy of Louisiana Birds. I still think of them as Upland Plovers whenever I'm lucky enough to see one.

8. Fulvous Whistling Duck

Okay, either I lied or I can't count. I couldn't leave this bird off the list. When I was a child living in exile in Kansas, a vacation to the farm in Kaplan meant seeing pairs of these beautiful "Tree Ducks" lowering themselves slowly down on beating wings into the hidden safety of the dense golden-green ricefields. The old times are almost all gone, but these birds remind me.