Jay Hudson    

Dear Dr. Beak:
Is there any truth to the rumor that active birders are thinner? If so, how do they do it?

Sincerely,
Thin As a Rail

Dear Thin,
What an interesting question. I've never given this a thought. We all know that if we ate as much as a bird in proportion to our body weight, we would be rolling giant butterballs. Quite frankly I see no relationship between birding and one's weight. I have been to birder breakfasts, Audubon dinners and weekend outings and can tell you that these are folks with appetites. I've seen what comes out a their backpacks and watched them quaff gallons of soft drinks while telling endless tales of sightings. No, there isn't any correlation between being a birder and being thin.

On the other hand, perhaps we should consider other factors. Does freezing your buns in a blind on a lakeshore in the middle of winter offer anything? Does climbing trees in the dark of night to check owl lodgings have any significance? Or how about sweating in the Arizona sun waiting for a rare migrant, or trudging through a mangrove swamp to visit a well-hidden nest. Maybe hanging off a cliff in Iceland collecting eggs has some effect. I've heard that those 24-hour contests to see which team can spot the most species will keep you on the move.

Maybe you are on to something here, Thin. To be an active birder you either come to it thin or being active will do it. I'll send you a copy of my new book, "The Birders Diet and Exercise Book". It will be sized to carry in the field.

I'll be away from the nest. Leave a message,
Dr. Beak

Dear Dr. Beak:
Why can't my husband do a better job of cooking for the kids when I'm not around? Occasionally, when I have an Audubon meeting, he is forced to help keep our kids alive. My husband is an intelligent, thoughtful man who can fix anything but dinner. I call him "Scraps" because he could survive on leftovers. Is it possible that like the bad carpenter that blamed his tools, Scraps will never get it right?

His mother believes he was born with this trait. She says that once when the family was sampling Europe's wonderful cuisine, Scraps (who was 15 at the time) never ate anything between McDonald's. What a shame! Is there any example in the bird world which I can wave under his nose?

Sincerely,
Starved for Advice

Dear Starved,
Regrettably, the only example is a bad one. It sounds like your husband took his lead from the European Kestrel. While the female tends the nest, the male is out finding food. He works hard to bring food back to his mate who carefully tears it into bite size morsels for the chicks. Unfortunately, if anything happens to the female, the male is totally lost and unable to take over the terribly difficult task of actually feeding the babies. The chicks are likely to perish.

Although one father is usually worth more than a hundred schoolmasters, when it comes to your loving husband, a good swift kick in the caboose may be the only way to get him to take a step forward. Let's hope that nothing happens to you. But to be on the safe side, you could consider giving everyone (insert ugly thought here) a credit card to McDonald's.

I'll be away from the nest. Leave a message,
Dr. Beak

Dear Dr. Beak:
When we were first married my husband never stopped for anything when we were on the road, even when we were heading for my mother's place. But ever since he joined the Audubon Society it takes forever to get to mother's. He has to stop at every tree, lake, water hole and stream to look for birds.

Dr. Beak, is this just a ploy to avoid my mother or do other birders travel this way?

Dear Stopped Up,
I've studied this phenomenon very closely because I too have been accused of having Birder's PMS (Procrastinating, Malingering and Sloth). As an admirer of my mother-in-law's unique characteristics, I can assure you that I would never stoop to such a cheap trick. We male birders are simply enlarging our understanding of Mother Nature now that we fully understand the nature of our mothers-in-law. It's a shame that your husband's new interests lie along the road to your mother's but I'm sure that the Audubon Society never intended that birding should be the cause of a mother-in-law not receiving the full benefit of her son-in-law's visit.

If you're convinced that your dear husband has Birder's PMS, simply don't give him the opportunity to go with you when you visit your mom. He will admire you for your strength and firm handling of a difficult situation. He may suffer for a while but he will get over it. A Jamaican beachcomber friend of mine once told me that you can't tie up an old dog with sausages.

I'll be away from the nest. Leave a message,
Dr. Beak

Dear Dr. Beak:
I am not a birder and do not claim to understand the behavior of this peculiar brand of outdoor people. For instance, while enjoying a leisurely stroll in the woods one morning looking for mushrooms, I came upon a birder sitting beside the trail. Now, I know that a man will sit very still who has a rip in his pants but this fellow seemed frozen in place. I didn't know if I should simply sneak past him or go for professional help. I was curious to find out if his trance-like state was self-induced or the work of the local demon of the forest.

Dr. Beak, was I observing common behavior of birders? His head was back, his nose was pointing straight up, his eyes were large and his mouth was open. Should I have fed him?

Sincerely,
Going For Help

Dear Going,
I can understand why someone looking for mushrooms would find someone looking straight up as peculiar but I assure you that your birder has not lost his feathers. All good birders try to come as close to owl behavior as possible. Being able to hold a position while having your head on a swivel gives you a chance to see the elusive Swamp Sparrow feeding on the ground and the equally well hidden Yellow-billed Cuckoo sitting right over your head. Some birders have trained with chiffoned Monks and can frighten you with their concentration.

The best way to see if they do, indeed, need professional help is to quietly offer them sunflower seeds. If they fail to respond, set the seeds on the ground directly in front of them and go for help. If they are sitting on a mushroom, forgive them.

I'll be away from the nest. Leave a message,
Dr. Beak

Dear Dr. Beak:
I have always wondered how birds find their way around the world. In Utah the Great Bear River Migratory Bird Refuge has birds that drop in every year from as far away as South America and Alaska. Swallows find their way back to Capistrano and even the awkward looking but smooth flying Pelican can disappear and return on schedule. Can you cite any scientific studies that explain just how these high flyers always find their way home?

Sincerely,
Always Lost

Dear Lost,
Indeed, I can cite my own exhaustive studies on the subject, although I can't vouch for their scientific validity as it affects birds. For years I have observed my wife's (I call her Pigeon) shopping flights. She can wing into a new town and fly directly to the finest mall. Not only that, she can direct ladies to the women's room even though she has never been there before. Pigeon can also easily find her way back to the car in a multi-storied parking lot. She amazes me on how she can weave through traffic on unfamiliar streets and be in line for a 7 a.m. sale. She can even return goods using the same techniques time after time.

I am convinced that migrating birds and women going to a sale have built-in homing senses that rarely require validation by asking for directions. Men have the same innate homing talents; however, they have a quirk that prevents them from asking for directions on those rare occasions when they can't line up heavenly bodies. This is an unfortunate quirk because it causes good men to miss almost all 7 a.m. sales. I am now studying why men miss most sales. Theories on the subject should be sent to Dr. Beak in care of INFANT, (Institute For The Advancement Of Nonessential Theories).

I'll be away from the nest. Leave a message,
Dr. Beak

Dear Dr. Beak:
Our granddaughter just turned one-and-a half. The other day we were in the backyard when she arched on her belly button, pointed at a bird in a cactus and clearly said "Campylorhynchus brunneicapillus." Dr. Beak is this a sign of the future? Does this portend a life as a birder with travel, adventure, understanding and fellowship? Or is this a omen of a narrow focus, of spending long periods by herself and forsaking the Internet for the out-of-doors?

Dear Worried,
Most one-and-a-half year olds are still taste-testing ugly little things lying on the rug. I agree that you have witnessed either a sign or an omen. Most of my birding friends got there by way of an omen. I suggest that you test her resolve by introducing her to objects such as a Barbie doll, a toy stove, a makeup kit, a crescent wrench and maybe a pair of binoculars. If she grabs the binoculars and starts crawling over the cat towards the door, I think you had best go with the flow.

Think of the advantage you have during these formative years; you don't have to think up and share choices with her. You also won't be burdened with lavishing inexpensive throwaway gifts on her. You can simply get her a subscription to a good birder's magazine with lots of advertising and wait for your orders. I suspect that your participation in your granddaughter's growing up is preordained. I also suggest you get yourself a subscription just to find out how much this venture is going to cost you.

I'll be away from the nest. Leave a message,
Dr. Beak

Dear Edgy,
You could change the mirror to a Carnival mirror! This is a tough time in a good-looking man's life. In the avian world lady birds shop for a mate who looks good or looks like he can build a nest and protect it. In our world the problem is that once a lady finds a good man, she finds all the other ladies don't care a hoot about her claim. I'd suggest that you buy him a wide screen TV, keep stocked up on chips and make him pizza six times a week. A little paunch goes a long way in stopping those "I want you!" looks from other ladies. As to what a "little paunch" is, I have no idea, but my wife hasn't been bothered by your problem in years.

Dear Gross,
Your are right, you must act now or consider changing your name to Jack Sprat. My very own cousin Lestus had an eating problem so big that he became a professional blind date.

You need to divert your girl friend's attention to other endeavors. Perhaps the two of you should take up SCUBA diving. Just the look of some of those critters crawling around on the ocean floor would kill anyone's appetite. It's good exercise and the tanks last for two hours (equivalent to 66 feedings). If this doesn't work you can always take comfort in the fact that in scary underwater situations your girlfriend will always have an advantage; she will pop to the surface.

I'll be away from the nest. Leave a message,
Dr. Beak

Dear Swallow,
If you have to prove you are right, you are probably wrong. John Wesley said it best when asked about cleanliness; "Certainly, this is a DUTY, not a sin. Cleanliness is, indeed, next to Godliness!" But you have to remember that John cleaned out souls not drain pipes. My very own second cousin twice removed, Cletis, had a problem recognizing his "DUTY", especially when returning from his frequent birding trips into the swamp. His thoughtful wife helped him understand his duty by setting up a cot in the garage where he could sleep alone with the fresh smell of the swamp in his experienced clothes. Now I wouldn't say Cletis is slow, but he was out there three nights before he realized what his wife was trying to tell him. So, my good friend Swallow, if you want to get next to your goddess; cleanliness and a little foo foo just might do the trick.

I'll be away from the nest. Send a message.
Dr. Beak

Sincerely,
Big Sister

Dear Big Sister,
One day a vain crow found some feathers which a peacock had dropped. Sticking them among his own rusty black ones, he began to strut about, ignoring and despising his old friends. Dressed in his borrowed plumage, he very confidently sought out a flock of peacocks who were walking with stately steps on the park lawn. Instantly recognizing the true nature of the intruder, they stripped him of his borrowed finery and, falling upon him with their sharp beaks, sent him packing.

The bedraggled crow, sadder but wiser, betook himself to his former companions, and would have been satisfied to associate with them again. But the crows, remembering how obnoxious he had been with his airs and his vanity, drummed him out of their midst. One of those whom he had so lately despised offered him the following advice: "Be contented with what nature made you and you will avoid the contempt of your peers and the punishment of your betters".

Tell Puddles that a slave named Aesop told this fable on a small island off the coast of Turkey about 2500 years ago. He said it told how happiness is not to be found in borrowed finery. And if that doesn't work, roll up her dress like a window shade.

I'll be away from the nest. Leave a message,
Dr. Beak

Dear Soggy,
I know just how you feel. Why be comfortable while enjoying life? Your wife probably goes through the bother of packing a repast complete with cool lemonade which she need not share with you. While you are off sweating and scratching in total vainglorious bliss you can bet that, after 40 years, she could care less.

Forget about trying to change her obdurate nature. I support your Frank Buck method to outdo her life list. Plus that, you have the god-given male right to embellish your tales of sightings with a show of scars, boils, sunburn and worn out fatigues. Your dear wife has no doubt grown quite amused at how your stories grow and must find joy in watching others listen to your fabulous tales of the outback. You are, however, somewhat caught in a trap. I’d wager that it won't be long before you’ll be sitting under the tree with your wise wife while you try to justify it all by claiming a bad knee from all those years in the bush.

I'll be away from the nest.  Send a message,
Dr. Beak

Dear Hatty,
You have a cowgirl's problem, Hatty. A good cowgirl goes after life like it's something that has to be roped in in a hurry or it will get away from her. I get a mental picture of you sitting on your favorite pony with one rope while they let two bulls out of the chutes. You can give up hats and rope in your man, or you can dismount, spit at a white horse for luck and hope that your colorful hats will work. Remember though that a red hat has a peculiar affect on most bulls.

And that's the view from the corral fence. I'll be away from the nest. Send a message.
Dr. Beak

Dear Weary:
You are not alone. I had to build an outside door to our son's room and have the utility companies install separate meters.

The best example from the bird world is the principle that the larger the species and the longer the incubation period; the longer the young will hang around. There are many ways that parent birds make fledglings. I like the one where the parents dangle food just outside the chicks reach. Some birds force out the young to make room for the next brood.

Your irritant just hasn't had the right incentive. Perhaps you could paint your son's room pink, put a crib in the corner and tell him he will have to share. Wiring the room for Mozart and storing your dresses in his closet might help. Good luck. None of these creative ideas worked for us.

I'll be away from the nest. Send a message.
Dr. Beak

Dear Listening:
Listening for the Common Tody Flycatcher is a art form not easily perfected by the Common Man. You must practice selective hearing; much like sitting in the living room with your dear wife. You probably already have the basics. You may be one of those uncommon men who are able to listen through the kids, the neighbors lawnmower and the barking dog while picking up the faint whistle of the line referee on the Sunday TV football game. Now all you have to do is learn the difference between a Ziziup, a tidit, a ditarit, and a pic-pic-pweer and the thousands of other odd and wonderful bird sounds. This is not an easy task. I once tried to imitate the sound of a Spectacled Owl on a bright and lonely night by interpreting the sound shown in the guide book. My bu hu hu, bu hu hu hui not only produced no response from the intended owl, it set my wife to laughing so hard it ruined my rhythm. So my listening friend, buy a bird sound tape and practice on the way to work. Who knows, if you have the touch you may have a flock of geese following you down the freeway. Not only that, now that your loving wife knows that you hear her, she can repeat years of one way conversations.

I'll be away from the nest, send a message.
Dr. Beak

Dear Giggle,
Don't let these goose eggs set you back. Peal your hubby off the ceiling and try something a bit less bouncy. I doubt that there is anything to solve your problem in any of the bird catalogues, but I have heard that a single feather has tickled more than one woman's fancy. If the feather fails, remember that a good laugh at bedtime is a guarantee of a sound nights sleep. Keep the old peacock around.

I'll be away from the nest. Leave a message.
Dr. Beak

Dear Abused:
I know what you mean. I can't stand it when I'm dragged into gift shops. I usually come away with bruises on my old bod and a wallet that looks like it was run over by the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Most birders are pelagic in nature and only venture into gift shops on rare occasions. As to the cause of this flocking behavior, my own substantial and exhaustive studies have shown that spending all day out in a harsh environment being respectful of those around you and silent as a church mouse, leads to a total personal breakdown as the excitement of the hunt moves indoors. And there is something else. There are different levels of quality in gift shops. A few gift shops are like a restaurant without Coke Cola written on the glasses, you know you have stepped up in class and something inside you screams spend, spend, spent! So don't be too harsh on your friends when the frenzy starts. If you don't want your feathers ruffled, get out quick. Remember that he who stands in the mud will get stuck in it.

I'll be away from the nest. Leave a message.
Dr. Beak

Dear Carolyn and Mort:
My Russian is a bit on the shmiginski side but I believe that "Oche chornya’d junco" is the title from an old folk song about a bird that tried to sit on an ear of corn with a friend and share the harvest. From this tenuous friendship a Russian proverb has come down to us that "two birds on the same ear of corn are not long friends". It seems that these old comrades had a fight and one pecked the other in the eye ant that is how the bird got it’s name. For you see, "Oche Chornya’d" in Russian means "Dark Eye". Thus we now have the Dark eyed junco.

If I am wrong, please let me know ASAP because there is another Russian proverb that says "The easiest way to eat crow is while it is still warm. The colder it gets, the harder it is to swallow!" Incidently, you will want to add three new sightings to your book about the Moscow, Idaho area. these include the "Red legged KomChatKa", the "Populus iss bittern" and the "Common Vladimurre".

I’ll be away from the nest, send a message,
Dr. Beak

Dear Furball:
You are absolutely right; bad things can happen to good birders unless you know what you are doing. The best advice comes from Nina Thomas at the Ogden Nature Center. Nina cares for about 300 birds a year with a release rate of over 80% and they don’t call her "Stubby". Nina says that if you find an injured Bluejay, for instance, put it in a box and get it to the Nature Center on 12th Street in Ogden. Birds are protected wildlife and you should always seek the help of a licensed person. If it is at night, soak some dog or cat food in hot water until it is mushy. Birds like cat food. Ironic isn’t it? I wonder how many cats we lose to raptors each year.

Nina says that if the bird is bleeding, handle as little as possible and keep the bird calm by putting it in a dark place. If you find a bird of prey, call the DWR for assistance. Be careful when handling birds of prey. Use a blanket or heavy gloves. If you feed the bird, use chicken. Birds of prey do not like hamburger. Smart critters, aren’t they?

Anyone know where I can find a scareraptor (new word) to set in my yard to keep the cats at bay? My heart goes out to your friend "Stubby" and I suggest you either stay out of the Badger State or walk wearing heavy gloves. You can meet Nina Thomas and some of her charges at the September 16th meeting of the Wasatch Audubon Society. Come on out for an informative and entertaining presentation.

I’ll be away from the nest. Leave a message.
Dr. Beak

Dear Friends of the Heather:
As they said in Rome "in Vino Veritas" or "in wine, the truth"! Or in Scotland it would be "a good Glenlivit bar mate is one who never heard the story before". (NOTE: for our readers who don’t understand the Scotch, Glenlivit and Glenfiddich are what is known in Gaelic as "Uisage Beatha" or the "water of life".) But to return to your problem, the bairds you were looking for are rarely seen by tourists and seldom talked about by the natives. Remember that bairders who think they will see them all were born silly and usually have a relapse. Your "locals" classify these bairds under the phylum "snipeis gotcha". But as my old friend in the picturesque town of Upper Voe Shetland once told me. "Blesses is he who expects nothing, for he will never be disappointed".

Ex animo, I’ll be out of the nest, leave a message,
Dr. Beak

Dear Doubtful:
Although no definitive studies have been made, let me give you a case for the opposite. Suppose you just spent your life savings on a trip to Poland and it’s a beautiful afternoon in an exquisite garden on the last day of your visit. Suddenly your first very rare Blszczace-piora Koliber hovers at the feeder. You grab your camera and find you forgot to put film in and you have the wrong lens. You know that the Koliber will be gone by the time you mend your ways and you will be on the plane the next day. Just how can your blood pressure go down?

On the other hand; suppose you have just spent two days at a beautiful camp site on a small lake, the weather is perfect and the water is reflective. You go out in a rowboat for the evening and find yourself in the middle of several loons and they are plaintively calling. The sunset is divine and the smell of dinner wafts over the water. Maybe here, Moishe, your blood pressure would go down.

So, my doubtful friend, the trick here is to keep your camera loaded and stay on your medication.

I’ll be away from the nest, leave a message.
Dr. Beak

Dear Caffeinated Keith:
Sanity and normality are defined as what the majority of the group believes. Unfortunately, the three of you have a slightly different view of normality than the rest of us. This isn’t to say that you are wrong and we are right, but you must agree that 35 hours on mini-wheats, Tylenol and a (shared?) basket of food for a 10 minute sighting is a bit wacko.

However; you may have stumbled on a new source of personal recognition. Glider pilots get a special badge for soaring long distances. Divers seek personal free dive depths, and long distance runners long to be able to run for hours on end. Perhaps we could start a new series of birding badges for long distance driving over a weekend. They might go like this:

1000 miles by yourself           = SWIFT badge
1000 miles with a girlfriend    = HARLEQUIN
1000 miles w/ sweaty friends = MUDHEN
1000 miles w/ mother-in-law  = DODO

Too bad you were just 56 miles short of earning that coveted Mudhen badge. Better luck next time.

I'll be away from the nest, send a message.
Dr. Beak

Dear Buffeled:
Don’t give those inconsequential changes in your life a second thought, If you ever get to the point where you won’t eat eggs and judge distance by tilting your head from side to side, you’ve got a problem.

Leave a message!
Dr. Beak