Good Natured: Driving with the window down Part 3

My challenge was to see, hear and identify 100 different wild birds within the month of January, and to do so within the confines of Lorain County. I fell short and tallied 90 birds. Still, I derived so much from this experience that I think it is worth sharing. Part 2 carried through Jan. 4 and 52 species. Jan. 5 would be one of my most satisfying days. The day started at the 'shrike stakeout'…a location that I personally renamed 'the place where a shrike was…once…so very long ago'. It's a long title…but true. My true destination for the day was Elsewhere. Okay, Elsewhere isn't a location. It is actually a symptom, a cruel and necessary shrouding of a birding hotspot employed to protect birds. Rare birds. Popular birds. Birds that, with just one poor interaction with an over-zealous birder, will literally fly the coup. And in doing so, will waste precious energy that needs to be conserved and focused on the act of surviving a wickedly cold winter. The target birds at Elsewhere were long-eared owls ... another bird with a "made-up" name to most non-birders, but a beautiful, and quite magical, bird to those "in the know." Long-eared owls don't roost simply in patches of pines, they roost in a realm. their realm, and upon entering their realm I literally bow, beg forgiveness and quickly and quietly leave. And then I tell no one! In fact, winter eBird submissions are both discouraged and defaulted to "hidden" status. If asked, the long-eared owl was my favorite find during my search, but it wasn't the rarest. (And, no,'I won't tell you where Elsewhere is.) The rarest bird was a dickcissel, a sparrow relative that inconsistently inhabits long-grass meadows in the summer. "In the summer" is operative here. Why this bird was at someone's winter birdfeeder is beyond all logic, but it was and through the generosity of the homeowner/birders, it became bird number 61 on my list. But let me retreat a bit. Jan. 6 and 7 were shutouts. I knew such days would come, but I didn't expect them so early in the month. All told, I experienced 11 days with no new birds during the month. That's more than 30 percent of the month, and that was one of my downfalls. I can't tell you the number of times that I recalculated how many birds I had to average per day to reach 100. I can tell you that on Jan. 31, it was 11. One of the greatest experiences during the month was hiking. Yes, I actually got out of my cold car, which, by the way always had the seat warmer on and hiked. It's important to remember that I worked for Lorain County Metro Parks for over 30 years and, as a naturalist, I hiked almost daily. As such, I knew the trails of the county, but that was decades ago. And as a promise to myself, I was going to use this quest as a chance to revisit some of these trails. And I did. I logged almost 20,000 steps along the Black River Reservation's Bridgeway and Steel Mill trails on Jan. 12. The next day, I explored the northern reaches of the Vermilion River Reservation's Bacon Woods, Bluebird, Cooper's Loop trail complex, a total of 14,000 steps. And instead of feeling old and tired, I felt refreshed. (You have no idea how much I wanted to say "young" here!) In total, I walked some 150,000 steps in search of birds. That's about 67 miles. As far as driving, I racked up almost 1,000 miles, which is strangely far less than if I was still working. But besides connecting with the nature of Lorain County, I was sternly reminded that birds in today's world do not just gravitate to the most pristine settings. All too often, they congregate at some of the most, well, let's say not so nice locations. Case in point is the Lorain County Landfill. This now massive mountain, which consists of all the things we throw away, is disgusting and, at the same time, unbelievably attractive to birds. Gulls and starlings hang out there in uncountable numbers. Raptors, like peregrine falcons and rough-legged hawks, can be seen as well ... of course, not by me but plenty of times by others. The showstopper at the landfill, however, are common ravens. I'm guessing it took them a while to inhabit Lorain County because they didn't know we had a landfill. Now that they know, I'm pretty sure they won't leave. But I also know this … I visited the landfill too many times in January. In fact, I believe that I am good for the rest of the year! Through the end of the month, I found myself targeting individual birds, which, when they were not found in their normal haunts, often devolved the day into aimless wandering. But strangely, wandering provided nine birds for the month, including my "I quit," "this is stupid," "let's go to dinner" and "I'm leaving my binoculars at home'" sighting of wild turkeys. About 108 wild birds were collectively seen in Lorain County during January 2026. I documented 90 of them. (eBird will list me with 89 since they consider ring-necked pheasant as an escaped bird.) (I dare them to try to find one!) So, what birds did I miss, or, as I say, avoided me? Or even better, what birds would have allowed me to reach 100? Well, a few geese, a couple of northern finches and several raptors just might have got me there. Of all of them, however, the complete, and I believe purposeful, dodging of the great horned owl was most frustrating. I drove, windows down, through most of January's dusk without hearing a single hoot. I found it completely frustrating, and at the same time, it reminded me that -- and stay with me here -- I wasn't looking for Waldo. I was looking for wild animals. Despite things like locations, timing and habitats, I was looking for wild animals ... further, ultra-mobile wild animals with wings! And not finding some, I now believe, makes me a bit more humble, and I'm good with that. You see, when I started my quest, I was just thinking numbers and strategies and of my own birding savvy. I wasn't thinking about the birds, and their challenges to survive, especially in such stark and frozen winter. And the eventual epiphany came when I realized that my quest was never to count them, but to actually spend time with them so that they could remind me of just how awesome they are. I hate to say this, but it hit me like Arctic air racing through my open car window.