Welcome back to the Entryway to Birding blog! I’ve recently been reflecting on how I bird—where I choose to go, the pace that I move at, what my intentions for birding are. There’s a handful of times that I’ve been out “chasing” a bird species that I haven’t seen before this fall, but most of my birding during September has been focused on finding warblers and enjoying their presence before they continue south for the winter.
My warbler searching has resulted in some very slow birding sessions—not slow in bird activity, by any means! But “slow” as in, “No, I haven’t moved more than 15 feet from the spot you last saw me, and yes, it has been over an hour” type of slow. At first this slow birding was just a product of the birds—I had found a warbler flock early one morning and they were busy feasting and feasting and feasting on bugs and they weren’t going anywhere. They left me wishing I had brought a camp chair.
But after a mesmerizing “slow” hour of watching these birds, I realized that I need to slow down more often. I’ve been challenging myself to give “slow birding” a try, and this week’s Entryway to Birding blog will break down why you might want to switch up your pace too.
I was birding near my favorite warbler spot at Cherokee North earlier this month when I heard a rustle in the bush in front of me. I had been standing there for maybe 10 minutes already, and it was low in the bush so I just assumed it was a passing chipmunk and ignored it. I continued standing quietly, scanning the trees further back for warblers, when the not-actually-a-chipmunk suddenly popped up and perched on a low branch of a tree. It’s the closest I’ve ever been to a black-billed cuckoo. How long had it been there? I have no idea, but I likely wouldn’t have seen it at all if I had I not been practicing my slow birding. Photo by Caitlyn Schuchhardt
What is “slow birding”?
Slow birding is kind of having a moment right now! The pandemic has changed the way that a lot of birders across the country are birding: no longer traveling as far or as often as they used to, with many folks staying close to home and focusing their attention on their local patches. With everything going on in the world right now, the meditative aspects of birding—the slow, focused immersion in the natural world around you—has become a balm for many people, birders and non-birders alike.
Birding is naturally a slow and focused task, but slow birding takes it to another level. While the concept of careful, focused, deliberate immersion in the bird-world isn’t new, I first ran across the term “slow birding” on a recent episode of the American Birding Association podcast, “The Secrets of Slow Birding with Bridget Butler.” Butler, the “Bird Diva,” is a birder and naturalist from Vermont, and she offers a series of workshops and classes that introduce strategies for slow birding that ultimately help you feel more connected to the world around you—whether through birds or just getting to know your local landscapes. She advocates for this slow birding movement that is based on deeper observation, deeper listening, and deeper connection.
I haven’t taken any of Butler’s classes and can’t speak to her strategies, but I have picked up some lessons in slow birding from expert birders here in the Madison area who have shown me that being a better birder (whatever that might mean to you) comes with time, with practice, and with slowing down—dramatically and deliberately.
Watching birds successfully catch bugs has become one of my favorite things about slow birding. I’m not sure what this red-eyed vireo has caught in its beak, but I hope it was a mosquito. Photo by Caitlyn Schuchhardt
What does this look like? It might look like finding a bird in the field, then watching it as long as you can—observing how it moves, the fine details of its plumage, the slightest noises it might make, what it eats, how it navigates the bush or tree or field it’s in, how it perches, how it preens, how it gathers nest material, how it forages, how it feeds its young, how it seems to communicate to other birds … the list goes on. Slow birding might mean that you don’t travel far at all, that maybe you spend a whole hour or more observing one or two birds—but you observe them with a focus and deliberation and care that immerses you in the moment.
What slow birding doesn’t look like is seeing or hearing another gray catbird and saying, “Ope, just a catbird” and moving on (I love ya, catbirds, but I’m guilty of this move more often than I like to admit). It’s not your regular “walk through the woods” or marsh or field or wherever you are, at your usual slow but meandering pace. It brings that slow walk to a crawl or even to a standstill.
I’ve known that gray catbirds have “rusty underpants.” Despite being gray everywhere else, the vent area under their tail is a rusty brown color. I’ve seen this a few times while spotting them perched in the open, but for the most part I don’t often get the greatest looks at this particular field mark. I did recently follow a catbird, though, and got to see it show off its underpants, which looked surprisingly fluffy! Photo by Caitlyn Schuchhardt
It sounds easy in theory, but slow birding can be surprisingly hard. If you’re anything like me, you’ll find yourself itching to see what else might be out there and want to rush ahead prematurely. It will test your patience and your determination, but trust me—it will pay off.
Slow birding will make you a better birder. You’ll notice more details about the birds you already love, you’ll witness bird behaviors you didn’t imagine you might ever see, and you’ll straight up see more birds! It’s a win-win-win.
Tips for slowing down
I’ve had to retrain my mind and work on being deliberate, slow, and careful in my birding. In the process, I’ve hearkened back to some birding basics that I’ve picked up from talented field trip leaders and fellow birders on bird walks last year. Many of those birders are experts in slow birding after having participated in the recent Wisconsin Breeding Bird Atlas, a five-year project that monitors which bird abundance and which species nest and breed here in Wisconsin. It requires patient, careful observation to identify certain bird behaviors—the essence of slow birding.
Here are some simple, but critical tips to consider if you find yourself struggling to slow down:
Bird every bird.
This female purple finch was hanging out with some house finches. Notice how much more streaky this bird is, with more bold patterning on the face with a white eyebrow. But if you’re expecting house finches, it could be easily overlooked. Photo by Caitlyn Schuchhardt
Don’t make assumptions about what you might be seeing. Even if that flock of goldfinches all look like goldfinches at a glance, it’s possible that one or more of them could be a pine siskin, a fall and winter migrant that likes to hang out with finches and can look similar to them from a distance. Or maybe there’s a purple finch hiding among those house finches—a quick scan wouldn’t be enough to pick them out.
Maybe you see a flash of burnt orange on a thrush-sized bird that’s hopping about in the understory, and you assume it’s a robin because you’ve seen so many of them on the trail. It could be an Eastern towhee, a bird of similar size whose burnt orange sides might evoke, at a quick glance, the color of a robin’s breast.
If you don’t bird every bird with your full attention, you’ll miss something—I guarantee it. I’ve had so many “Oh wait!” moments when I’ve realized that something about my initial ID seemed off and worth a second look. Had I been slow birding when I saw that “robin,” I would have known right away that it was an Eastern towhee (because, yep, I did make that mistake!).
Caught from a certain angle, an Eastern towhee’s rufousy-red sides could turn your mind to an American robin. Birding every bird makes sure you don’t make assumptions about what you think you’re seeing. Photo by Caitlyn Schuchhardt
If I had stayed and watched that towhee, maybe I would have seen it kick up leaf litter as it foraged. I might have witnessed more of it’s classic towhee behavior—staying skulky and low in the brush. Maybe I could have heard it make one of its calls that isn’t the classic “drink your teeeeaaa!” call and learn it’s vocalizations a little better. Who knows what I would have learned? I don’t, because at the time, I didn’t stay to watch it.
Slow birding encourages you to bird every bird you encounter and bird it deliberately. You’ll walk away with a deeper appreciation not only of the bird itself, but of all the variety you might find hiding out even in a small stretch of space.
Be curious.
There was no water around for this blue-winged warbler to take a bath, so how did he get so wet? I found the answer when I saw him, a few minutes later, continue bathing in the morning dew that had collected on some leaves. Photo by Caitlyn Schuchhardt
If you hear a weird noise, investigate. If you see some movement, investigate. If you see something that looks like it could maybe be a bird, investigate. If the thought “What was that?” crosses your mind at any point, follow that curiosity! Don’t let the part of your brain saying “Oh, it was probably just a chipmunk” win. Will it be a chipmunk, 98% of the time? Probably. But the 2% of the time that it isn’t, you’ll be really glad you looked.
Slow birding gives you the space to be curious, with nothing holding you back. Why is that bird doing that? What’s that weird movement it’s making? What’s that sound? Are those fledglings? Is that a nest? What’s it eating? Why do it’s feathers look like that? Is it molting, or just a juvenile? Why’s it all wet? Where did it take a bath? Is there water nearby?
Some of those questions might feel silly or weird or uninformed, but let yourself ask them anyway. It’s how you learn. I guarantee you’ll walk away knowing more about bird behavior than you knew going in.
I always wondered why American redstarts are always fanning their tails and dancing up branches in such a show-y fashion, like the male pictured here. I recently learned from my field guide that they spread their tail feathers and wave them about in order to flush up bugs from the tree, which they then snatch and eat. I started watching for this behavior in particular, and sure enough—I got to see them flush up some bugs that they then caught. It was fascinating. Photo by Kenneth Cole Schneider CC BY-NC-ND
Wait. Then wait some more.
The longer you wait in one spot—quiet, patient, focused—the more activity you’ll start to see. Even if an area seems quiet and still and remarkably non-birdy when you arrive, waiting may be all it takes for the birds to stop caring about your presence and reveal themselves.
Once they do, keep waiting. Keep watching. Choose a bird to follow and wait to see what it does. You might see some interesting bird behavior that you wouldn’t expect—or even a bird you don’t expect!
I was recently treated to a sight I’d never seen before—a yellow-billed cuckoo catching and attempting to eat a tree frog. I guess I shouldn’t say attempting, though, since it was 100% successful in swallowing this frog whole. Yep. Whole. I got to witness three solid minutes of the cuckoo figuring out how on earth it was going to get that entire frog in its mouth before success was had.
A yellow-billed cuckoo with a recently caught tree frog. I watched him tackle this frog for three minutes before the cuckoo was able to swallow it whole. Photo by Caitlyn Schuchhardt
The surprise mourning warbler I saw, in fall plumage. Photo by Caitlyn Schuchhardt
I also recently got a shock while picking through a flock of warblers at Lake Kegonsa State Park. I had been stationary for awhile, having watched as many warblers in this one group as I could, but the birds were starting to move on and the area was getting quiet. But I held to my slow birding commitment and I waited. And waited. I watched the same magnolia warbler flit about, thinking that I should really keep moving up the path, when someone new suddenly popped out from a low bush. A mourning warbler! I had never seen one before, so I frantically grabbed my camera for a just-in-time picture to help confirm my ID.
If I hadn’t been practicing my slow birding and making a point to wait and wait and wait some more, I would have moved right on past these birds. I wouldn’t have gotten a lifer, nor would I have learned that yellow-billed cuckoos eat frogs—and have mouths large enough to eat them whole.
When I’m out on a regular birding session, meandering around, doing my thing, I probably only spend one minute—or much less—on most of the birds I’m looking at. I’ll spot them, identify them, and admire them for a moment before I move on to something else. I enjoy birding for the birds, but I also enjoy the challenge that comes with detecting them, and my “regular” birding often reflects that desire to see what’s out there, to see what I can find!
Slow birding adds another dimension—one of not just finding birds, but studying them, learning their behaviors, taking more time to observe them and see them in a new light. It may not be something I have time for on every outing, but it is something that I know I am going to practice more of.
In the few weeks that I’ve been working on my slow birding skills, I already feel like I am a “better” and, ironically, faster birder, since I’ve become even more familiar with the birds around me. It’s helped me learn more about areas in my “patch”—my usual birding haunts—and given me a sense of what habitats are really favorited by warblers this fall. All things that I didn’t know before I started!
So if you’ve been looking for a way to improve your birding skills, or simply a new challenge to mix up your birding, I encourage you to give slow birding a try. Be patient. Be deliberate. Enjoy the calm, the focus, the near-meditation that comes with slowing down in nature. You won’t regret it.
Happy (slow) birding, everyone! I’ll see you next week.
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Caitlyn is the Communications and Outreach Assistant at Madison Audubon. She’s crazy for birds because they changed her life. She’ll be back next Monday with some tips and tools for birders, new and experienced! Between now and then, she’d love to hear about the birds you’re seeing and hearing. Leave a comment below or email to drop her a line!
