On Thursday night, Feb. 2, I got a call from a birding friend about an incredibly rare bird that had just been identified in the Sinking Spring area of Berks County.
Not only was it rare, he said, it could turn out to be the first one of its kind ever documented in the country.
It was a black-backed oriole, a species normally found from central Mexico down through Guatemala, and for several days it had been coming to feeders and a bird bath in a typical suburban area near Reading. But the homeowners didn’t know what it was.
Its exact location was at first kept quiet until Mike Slater, president of the Baird Ornithological Club, could talk to the people with the feeders. News of a bird like this would bring birders and people just curious to see something they’d likely never see again out in droves. And when the news broke the next morning, that’s exactly what happened.
In today’s birding world there are all kinds of communication paths. Nationally, statewide and even regionally there are hotlines of rare or unusual species, and there are daily Internet reports of birding listserv posts. Then there are Facebook posts, private texting groups and bird club members who contact one another personally.
The wild lengths to which birders will go
However, the place where birders from all over the world now report their sightings is the eBird website, a partnership of the Cornell Lab of Ornithology and the National Audubon Society. Anyone can sign onto it, create their own lists, public or private, and get daily rarity reports.
But although most of these reports are valid, eBird has reviewers constantly looking at them. If you don’t have a lot of experience with birds, the juveniles and females of some species are easily misidentified. And when it comes to extremely rare species, like this oriole is, its identity must be confirmed.
When I got this information I made calls to several longtime birding friends, three of whom hopped in their cars and headed to the area not knowing exactly where they were going or if they’d be allowed to look for the oriole. But fortunately for them, they were some of the first ones at the spot, and they were followed by birders from all over the country.
Ironically, I was still recovering from pneumonia and wasn’t able to go myself, although under normal circumstances I’d have been out the door immediately. But four afternoons later my long-suffering husband took me to see the oriole as it fed on orange slices in a feeder.
To date more than 800 people have seen this bird, some coming from as far as Ontario, California and Florida. But whether or not it gets officially accepted as a pure wild species or one kept illegally that escaped or was released remains up in the air.
And I’m sure glad I’m not a member of the state records committee.
Arlene Koch is a freelance writer. Email her at sports@lehighvalleylive.com. Find lehighvalleylive on Facebook.
Our editors found this article on this site using Google and regenerated it for our readers.
