**************************************************************************** * ^^^^^^^^^ ^ ^ ^^^^^^ ^^^^^^^ ^ ^ ^^^^^^^ * ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ * ^ ^^^^^^^ ^^^^^^ ^ ^ ^ ^^^^^^^ * ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ * ^ ^ ^ ^^^^^^ ^^^^^^^ ^^^^^^^ ^ * The unofficial electronic publication of the David Cup/McIlroy competition. * Editors: Allison Wells, Jeff Wells * Editorial Assistants: Sarah Childs, Justin Childs * Boom Operator: Jeff Wells * Makeup Artist: Sarah Childs * Scene Design: Justin Childs ***************************************************************************** We, Allison and Jeff, were leisurely motoring the highways back to Ithaca after attending Jeff's brother Andrew's wedding on the Maine coast. As one might expect, we chatted happily about the newly married little lovebirds and how nice it was to see family again and our dearest Maine. As we pulled onto the Mass Turnpike, though, I (Allison) realized that our topics had taken a stomach-churning turn, that we'd left behind our light-hearted banter and moved on to matters of drastic importance, matters of honor and deep-seated personal goals, matters that would impact our future in big, big ways. The upcoming presidential elections? Ozone depletion? No, the World Series of Birding! I kid you not! Three months after--or, if you're on the Sapsucker team, nine months before--the Big Day, we're weighing the costs and benefits of the team skipping Great Swamp, retallying species likely to be found at Brigantine, debating where in the Garden State to put nest boxes in order to ensure a tickable Sapsucker screech-owl. Yes, somewhere along the way, Jeff had tossed out the tanager, and I'd swallowed it, bill, feet, and feathers. Don't let this happen to you! Read The Cup 1.8! With the 1997 World Series "just around the corner," you're at risk: should a Sapsucker see you looking idle, you too could find yourself tossed about in the unforgiving sea of Big Day conversation. Quicksand, it is: once you're in there's no getting back out. You could lose you're job. You could be distracted from major ticks for the David Cup/McIlroy races! Save yourself! Look busy, look really, really busy. Read this issue of The Cup...while you still have a chance. @ @ @ @ @ @ NEWS, CUES, and BLUES @ @ @ @ @ @ WELCOME (BACK) TO THE DAVID CUP CLAN: A wholesome American Welcome Back to Matt Medler, former Cornell student Cupper and one of The Cup's major gossip informants. Sadly, Medler, who left the Basin last spring (for of all places, Sweden!) was forced to work soon after his foremost reason for traipsing overseas--to go birding--was found out by his employer. The real shocker to Medler, though, was when he realized--egadz!--he was the only Cupper over there! It took him mere months to high-tail it back into Cup territory where he belongs. He brought with him this report on his truancy experience: "When I arrived home recently, I was happy to find the May copy of The Cup on my parents' computer. I was dismayed, though, by the vicious lies which I read in that rag of a newsletter, claiming that I had gone to Sweden to birdwatch. I'll have the editors (whoever they might be) know that my sole purpose in traveling to Sweden was to work on two legitimate research projects, and that I focused all of my energies on the Great Reed Warbler and the birds that we ringed up in Lapland. At no time was I distracted by other birds in the surrounding area...OK, maybe I did spend a little time birding. Alright! I spent quite a bit of time admiring the Swedish avifauna, but only after completing all work duties. I'll be spending about a week in Ithaca to do some field and lab work with Dennis Hasselquist, the 'sucker' who sent me to Sweden this summer." Need we say more? BIRDERS WELCOME: That's not exactly what the banner hanging on the side of the Union Springs Express Mart says (currently, it reads, "Anglers Welcome," and it bears a giant Pabst Blue Ribbon image to prove it). We birders are still awaiting our day of reckoning, but by saving our receipts when we buy stuff on our way to and from Montezuma (remember the "Scrawl of Fame" in the last issue?), we're that much closer to that glorious dawn! Who knows? Maybe when the politicians and business owners realize what a junk food-friendly flock birders really are, they'll expand Montezuma to encompass all of the Cayuga Lake Basin. Better yet, we just might get our own banner! ROAD "HOG": Allison and Jeff were pulling out of Stewart Park recently when they noticed the license plate on the vehicle in front of them that read, "Hog 1". Naturally, they assumed this was a reference to their faithful Hog's Hole (a McIlroy stronghold). Then they saw the face: the weather-beaten skin, the scruffy hair and stubble, the bloodshot, demon-crazed eyes. Karl David! they thought, and nearly honked the horn. At the last second they remembered, no, Karl drives a white sporty number, not a reckless Dodge 4 x 4. The long and the short of it: if you see this vehicle, don't toot. There are in fact other crazed, sleep-depraved wildmen in the world other than Karl, and they may not be nearly as nice as he is. And remember to use your turn signal. INDECENT EXPOSURE?: We've been tipped off again: Chris Hymes isn't the only David Cup scientist making ground-breaking discoveries in bird behavior. Cupper Kurt Fox posted this research recoup on Cayugabirds-L on August 20: "All in all, I saw 13 species of shorebirds...Other decent birds seen were immature Black-crowned Night-herons, Common Nighthawk, Osprey...and Great Egrets." Although it is certainly remarkable that Kurt was able to distinguish "decent" birds, we can't help wonder why he didn't make note of the "indecent" birds as well. What made them indecent, anyway? Vulgar vocalizations/gestures? Unpaid bills? Or maybe when Kurt peered through his scope he saw two Buff-breasts? TAKE REFUGE: Floats carrying giant paper mache' shorebirds! A fifty-piece marching band playing the calls of herons, egrets, and bitterns! Rob Scott pecking away at a gigantic Tootsie Roll "tree" in his Sapsucker costume! Well, not at THIS year's National Refuge Week at Montezuma, but the schedule they've lined up for the big celebration is impressive nonetheless. Now to be serious for a moment: go to as many of these events as possible! Bring your friends, your family, your bird club! We birders need to follow the lead of hunters, anglers, and other nature-oriented entities that wield considerable political power by unifying ourselves and proving that our voices--indeed, our ideals--should be taken seriously. Stand up and be counted! Be present at one or more of these events: Saturday, October 5 --9:00am, Guided Bird Tour led by John Van Niel, Professor of Natural Resource Conservation at Finger Lakes Community College --1:00pm, National Audubon Society's dedication of Montezuma NWR as an Important Bird Area. Speakers include John Fitzpatrick (Director of Lab of O); Frank Dunstan (Acting Commissioner, NYS Dept. of Environmental. Conservation), representatives from MNWR and sportsmen's groups; local politicians and members of the media. --4:00pm, Shorebird Enthusiasts Get-together at May's Point Pool corral Sunday, October 6 --9:00am, Guided Bird Tour led by Mary Dreiling (Onondaga Audubon Society) --10:00am-3:00pm, Wildlife Observations, volunteers from Audubon chapters and bird clubs at refuge birding hotspots to show visitors wildlife and answer questions. Cuppers Tom Nix and Karl David are helping out. If you'd like to volunteer too, call Jeff! Tuesday, October 8 --7:30pm, Ghosts and Ghoulies: Creatures of the Night (Visitors Center, given by Steve Kress of National Audubon Society) Saturday, October 12 --10:00-12:00pm, Beginning Birders Workshop (Visitors Center), given by Cupper Ken Rosenberg (Lab of O) Sunday, October 13 --8:30pm, Guided Bird Tour, lead by Sue Adair (Onondaga Audubon) SPIES T: "I've relocated the Buff-breasted Sandpiper." The finder was Tom Nix. He was one of many birders at Montezuma that evening in August, including more than a few Cuppers. Tom was the only one wearing his David Cup T. Any questions? BYE-BYE BIRDERS?: Temporary Cuppers Sarah Childs and her cousin Justin (remember? Niece and nephew to Allison and Jeff Wells?) have gravely disappointed their auntie and uncle by letting school interfere with their David Cup responsibilities. Yes, they skulked back to Maine just as the shorebirds were returning to Montezuma ("Just for that, there'll be no Buff-breasted Sandpiper for you," Uncle Jeff was overheard saying). But look for their updated totals in the November edition of The Cup, as the words "family time" get heavy rotation during Thanksgiving. As for other fled Cuppers: Matt Medler tried to escape the madness of the David Cup birding scene and look where it got him. Chris Hymes, following Medler's ludicrous example, likewise attempted to use an employment situation (he's hawkwatching downstate until November and getting paid for it!) Upon hearing the news and rumors of his withdrawal from the David Cup, he was immediately harassed by Cuppers far and wide and is now cooing this tune: "I guess you are right, [when I'm in town] I may still keep my eye out for the occasional Swallow-tailed Kite, or perhaps Scissor-tailed Flycatcher flying around the airport area near Route 13. Maybe also that one White-tailed Sea-Eagle passing over Beam Hill this migration. I will still be in the competition, but no more chasing birds or searching for new ones!" Now, Larry Springsteen's had his priorities in the right place all along. He didn't even try to leave, even though he's finished his Ph.D. (congratulations, Larry!) and is moving to Connecticut (that's state, not Hill). He offers these pseudo parting words: "I will always be a Cup participant! Even if 'the powers that be' don't give me a special dispensation making certain areas of CT within the McIlroy boundaries, I am still determined to break 200. Of course, if I don't, I'll just have to lose a lot of sleep and then try again next year." You see, the David Cup is like the Hotel California: you can checklist any time you like, but you can never leave. BIRD CUP BLUES: Blues? Haven't you heard? The shorebirds are back at Montezuma! There's no such things as "the blues" anymore! :> :> :> :> :> :> :> :> :> :> :> :> :> :> :> :> :> :> :> "I'm back in the highlights again..." Okay, so Steve Winwood really sings "high life" not "highlights." Anyway, "high life" works, too, now that the shorebirds are back. That's something to sing about! BASIN BIRD HIGHLIGHTS by Steve Kelling One of the best shorebird months in recent memory was had during August in the Cayuga Lake Basin. Beginning mid-month, when the draw down of Mays Point Pool occurred, shorebirds flocked to that location. Over 20 species were observed, with numbers approaching 1000 individuals! Of particular interest were the observation of several BUFF-BREASTED SANDPIPERS, an uncommon migrant through the region. Late August brought the beginning of the fall migration for other birds also. CASPIAN TERNS were numerous around Stewart Park, where a MERLIN continues to hang around. The nocturnal migration of passerines was slow, with no real major movements, just a steady trickle. VEERIES in particular were heard. (Steve Kelling is the field notes editor for the Kingbird, Region 3. He teaches Cornell undergraduates the mysteries of physics and often sits on the fence...at the Montezuma corral.) 100 100 100 100 100 100 100 100 100 100 CLUB 100 100 100 100 100 100 100 100 100 Apparently, our directions to the "nearest" Rochester Wegman's helped. Tom Lathrop is here, he made it to the 100 Club! Hey, Jim! Kurt! Diane! Yo, Rob--c'mon, everybody, wake up! Well, Tom, instead of dragging Matt Medler in with you, maybe you should have brought along something useful. Fireworks, maybe. But now that you're here you may as well tell us... How does it feel to be in the 100 Club: "..." Tom? Tom!? Never mind, he's still trying to catch his breath. Bird 100: Greater Yellowlegs And Matt? How about you?: "Aoidn lksdfjll alnd jskein dkdj fdkoie Sweden!" Bird 100: Nashville Warbler 200 200 200 200 200 200 2 0 0 200 200 200 200 Expect the cops to crash the place pretty darned soon. Things are way out of hand here! Two new 200 Clubbers in one month? The place has GOT to be beyond legal capacity. And what with another minor sneaking in, we could lose our liquor license! (Casey's already sampled the wine, and the McGowan kid's been over at the bar prattling on about hops and bitters since he got here last month!) If this keeps up, we just might have to start a whole new club, the 249er's Club! Hmm. Something to think about... Casey Sutton: Taught the entire Winston Court neighborhood how to beat their chests like a booming Ruffed Grouse. Then shot them all with a squirt gun. Bird 200: Baird's Sandpiper Meena Haribal: Jumped the Stewart Park swan pen, hopped on the back of one of the Mute Swans, and sang "Fly Me to the Moon". Bird 200: "It was, no, make that, wait a minute..." <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< PILGRIMS' PROGRESS >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> You've probably noticed in past issues of The Cup that the Pilgrims' Progress tied tallies were resolved safely and politely (e.g., "Haribal" comes before "Sutton"). Well, we at The Cup like to shake things up now and again. For that reason and that reason only (there's no ego involved here, no shameless abuse of editorial power, nothing of the sort), we're going to, shall we say, turn things around? 1996 DAVID CUP AUGUST TOTALS 1996 DC JULY TOTALS 237 Allison Wells 231 Karl David 237 Karl David 230 Allison Wells 237 Steve Kelling 227 Tom Nix 234 Tom Nix 224 Steve Kelling 232 Jeff Wells 224 Jeff Wells 230 Bard Prentiss 221 Bard Prentiss 227 Kevin McGowan 220 Kevin McGowan 223 Ken Rosenberg 215 Scott Mardis 219 Ralph Paonessa 214 Ken Rosenberg 215 Scott Mardis 212 Chris Hymes 212 Chris Hymes 212 Ralph Paonessa 208 Jay McGowan 201 Jay McGowan 205 Meena Haribal 191 Meena Haribal 202 Casey Sutton 191 Casey Sutton 196 Bill Evans 185 Bill Evans 182 Anne James 182 Anne James 176 John Bower 176 John Bower 173 Larry Springsteen 173 Larry Springsteen 168 Martha Fischer 168 Martha Fischer 164 Kurt Fox 154 Michael Runge 164 Michael Runge 153 Diane Tessaglia 156 Rob Scott 152 Kurt Fox 153 Diane Tessaglia 152 Rob Scott 134 Matt Medler 124 Jim Lowe 125 Jim Lowe 105 Dan Scheiman 105 Tom Lathrop 93 Tom Lathrop 105 Dan Scheiman 77 Sarah Childs 82 Sarah Childs 34 Justin Childs 50 Justin Childs 35 Cathy Heidenreich EDITORS' NOTE: Some totals still include Trumpeter Swan; others still do not (Karl's, Steve's, Allison's, Jeff's). Knowing that a timely decision about the swans would give the illusion of efficiency and attention to details, the David Cup committee unanimously decided (by default) to put off addressing the matter. Better luck next issue. 1996 McILROY AWARD AUGUST TOTALS 1996 JULY TOTALS 187 Allison Wells 185 Allison Wells 177 Jeff Wells 172 Jeff Wells 171 Kevin McGowan 171 Kevin McGowan 162 Ken Rosenberg 159 Ken Rosenberg 155 John Bower 155 John Bower 153 Larry Springsteen 153 Larry Springsteen 149 Scott Mardis 149 Scott Mardis 149 Karl David 148 Jay McGowan 148 Jay McGowan 144 Karl David 142 Tom Nix 142 Tom Nix 133 Casey Sutton 133 Casey Sutton 132 Martha Fischer 132 Martha Fischer 131 Chris Hymes 131 Chris Hymes 131 Rob Scott 128 Rob Scott 129 Bill Evans 111 Jim Lowe 113 Jim Lowe 111 Michael Runge 113 Michael Runge 105 Bill Evans 55 Diane Tessaglia 55 Diane Tessaglia 50 Sarah Childs 42 Sarah Childs 35 Justin Childs 27 Justin Childs LEADER'S LIST LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL Who'd have guessed that a math professor, a writer, and a physics connoisseur would have anything in common? Here's more than a few things (229): C. Loon, P-b Grebe, H. Grebe, R-n Grebe, D-c Cormorant, L. Bittern, G. B. Heron, G. Egret, G. Heron, B-c. Night-Heron, Tundra Swan, M. Swan, S. Goose, Brant, C. Goose, W. Duck, G-w Teal, A. Black Duck, Mallard, N. Pintail, B-w Teal, N. Shoveler, Gadwall, E. Wigeon, A. Wigeon, Canvasback, Redhead, R-n Duck, G. Scaup, L. Scaup, Oldsquaw, W-w Scoter, C. Goldeneye, Bufflehead, H. Merganser, C. Merganser, R-b Merganser, Ruddy Duck, T. Vulture, Osprey, B. Eagle, N. Harrier, S-s Hawk, C. Hawk, N. Goshawk, R-s Hawk, B-w Hawk, R-t Hawk, R-l Hawk, G. Eagle, A. Kestrel, R-n Pheasant, R. Grouse, W. Turkey, V. Rail, Sora, C. Moorhen, A. Coot, B-b Plover, L. G. Plover, S. Plover, Killdeer, G. Yellowlegs, L. Yellowlegs, Solitary Sandpiper, Spotted Sandpiper, Upland Sandpiper, Marbled Godwit, R. Turnstone, Sanderling, Semipalmated Sandpiper, Least Sandpiper, White-rumped Sandpiper, Baird's Sandpiper, Pectoral Sandpiper, Dunlin, Stilt Sandpiper, B-b Sandpiper, S-b Dowitcher, C. Snipe, A. Woodcock, W. Phalarope, Little Gull, B.Gull, R-b Gull, H. Gull, Iceland Gull, G. B-b Gull, Caspian Tern, Common Tern, Black Tern, R. Dove, M. Dove, B-b Cuckoo, Y-b Cuckoo, E. Screech-Owl, G. H. Owl, S-e Owl, N. S-w Owl, C. Nighthawk, C. Swift, R-t Hummingbird, B. Kingfisher, Red-headed Woodpecker, R-b Woodpecker, Y-b Sapsucker, D. Woodpecker, H. Woodpecker, N. Flicker, P. Woodpecker, E. Wood-Pewee, Acadian Flycatcher, Alder Flycatcher, Willow Flycatcher, Least Flycatcher, E. Phoebe, G. C. Flycatcher, E. Kingbird, H. Lark, P. Martin, T. Swallow, N. R-w Swallow, Bank Swallow, C. Swallow, Barn Swallow, B. Jay, A. Crow, F. Crow, C. Raven, B-c Chickadee, T. Titmouse, R-b Nuthatch, W-b Nuthatch, B. Creeper, C. Wren, H. Wren, W. Wren, M. Wren, G-c Kinglet, R-c Kinglet, B-g Gnatcatcher, E. Bluebird, Veery, G-c Thrush, S. Thrush, H. Thrush, W. Thrush, A. Robin, G. Catbird, N. Mockingbird, B. Thrasher, A. Pipit, Bohemian Waxwing, C. Waxwing, N. Shrike, E. Starling, S. Vireo, Y-t Vireo, W. Vireo, R-e Vireo, B-w Warbler, G-w Warbler, T. Warbler, N. Warbler, N. Parula, Yellow Warbler, C-s Warbler, Magnolia Warbler, C. M. Warbler, B-t Blue Warbler, Y-r Warbler, B-t Green Warbler, Blackburnian Warbler, Pine Warbler, Prairie Warbler, Palm Warbler, B-b Warbler, Blackpoll Warbler, Cerulean Warbler, B-a-w Warbler, A. Redstart, Prothonotary Warbler, Worm-eating Warbler, Ovenbird, N. Waterthrush, L. Waterthrush, Mourning Warbler, C. Yellowthroat, Hooded Warbler, Wilson's Warbler, Canada Warbler, Yellow-breasted Chat, Sc. Tanager, N. Cardinal, R-b Grosbeak, I. Bunting, E. Towhee, A. T. Sparrow, C. Sparrow, Field Sparrow, V. Sparrow, Savannah Sparrow, G. Sparrow, Henslow's Sparrow, Fox Sparrow, Song Sparrow, Lincoln's Sparrow, Swamp Sparrow, W-t Sparrow, W-c Sparrow, D-e Junco, Lapland Longspur, Snow Bunting, Bobolink, R-w Blackbird, E. Meadowlark, R. Blackbird, C. Grackle, B-h Cowbird, Orchard Oriole, N. Oriole, P. Finch, H. Finch, R. Crossbill, C. Redpoll, P. Siskin, A. Goldfinch, E. Grosbeak, House Sparrow FOR ALLISON'S LIST ADD: Surf Scoter, Laughing Gull, Glaucous Gull, Forster's Tern, Barred Owl, Olive-sided Flycatcher, Yellow-bellied Flycatcher, Philadelphia Vireo FOR KARL'S LIST ADD: A. Bittern, Y-c Night-Heron, Merlin, A. Avocet, L. B-b Gull, Forster's Tern, Pine Grosbeak, Hoary Redpoll FOR STEVE'S LIST ADD: Ross' Goose, Surf Scoter, Glaucous Gull, L. B-b Gull, Barred Owl, Whip-poor-will, Philadelphia Vireo, Hoary Redpoll, Total: 237 species + Trumpeter Swan ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ COMPOSITE DEPOSIT Add to the Leader's Lists (above) the following species and you'll have the entire list of birds seen in January, February, March, April, May, June, July, and August: Whimbrel, Red-necked Phalarope, White-eyed Vireo, Yellow-headed Blackbird Total: 251 species (+ Trumpeter Swan) !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ! KICKIN' TAIL! ! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! What better way to bid farewell to summer than by being featured in an interview exclusively for The Cup? KICKIN' TAIL brings well-deserved honor and recognition to the Cupper(s) who has (have) glassed, scoped, scanned, driven, climbed, dug, tar-and-feathered and otherwise made his/her (their) way to the top of the David Cup list. Okay, both Wells and David are Kickin' Tail this month. Whoop-ti. Big surprise. Snore, snore. But Steve Kelling? He placed a pitiful fourth last month. What'd he do, ride Karl's and/or Allison's coat tails? He did try to grab onto Allison's but she wasn't wearing a coat. And Karl, well, he wasn't wearing anything at all. So Kelling pulled out all the stoppers by carefully scrutinizing his (Kelling's) list. To his great joy (and everyone else's sorrow) he found that he'd miscounted--for the last few months! Brown-headed Cowbird--how could he overlook such an omnipresent force? Eastern Phoebe--did he think that was his Uncle Albert calling to Aunt "Phoebe" all summer out by the barn? Although many suspect fowl play, the fact remains, Kelling's Kickin' Tail this month, and the editors have had to do some fancy maneuvering to accommodate the gushers of three Old Faithfuls. To show your appreciation, over the next month, make a point to NOT tie with anyone who looks like they may be Kickin' Tail, okay? And send chocolate. THE CUP: Steve, let's start with you, since you're the closest of the three to being a Kickin' Tail rookie. Tell us, how'd you do it? KELLING: By going out birdwatching. THE CUP: Oh, really! I guess that's where you part company with the other two leaders. I understand they sat on their duffers recounting their lists, that that's how they made fame this month. Allison, is this true? WELLS: Yes, it's true, but it didn't do any good. I couldn't squeeze in even one more bird. And, I was sorry to learn, I hadn't miscounted (in my favor), either. THE CUP: Karl, was this your strategy as well? DAVID: I put on the brakes so Steve and Allison could catch me, because who wants to have to read the same stuff two months in a row? THE CUP: Not even your beloved Elaine! DAVID: In fact, I'm hoping adoption of the Nix drafting strategy (see The Cup 1.7) will put off another interview with me until The Cup 1.12. THE CUP: So does this mean you're all still employed? KELLING: Yes. But only because I forgot 5 species (BH Cowbird, C Grackle, E Meadowlark, Grasshopper Sparrow, and RN Pheasant) and I miscounted by one. THE CUP: Good thing. Otherwise, to catch up you'd have had to put in too many early mornings and would have gotten yourself fired like Karl did, right, Karl? DAVID: I teach at 8:10 in the morning, a time when almost no one under the age of 35 is truly awake. Thus I'm not surprised that I've never had reason to suspect that any student has ever noticed that a cardboard cut-out of me has been delivering calculus lectures at that hour for the last four years. The closest any of them ever come on their course evaluations is "seems to have stock responses to questions." This frees me up to spend the morning at Montezuma. Unfortunately, I haven't yet figured out how to make this tactic work for meetings, but when I do, look out. THE CUP: How about you, Allison. Standing in the unemployment line? WELLS: My boss is very reasonable about my squeezing in a little birding during my work time. For example, as a writer, I have to go to the post office (on Warren Road, the closest PO) several days during the week to mail manuscripts, buy stamps, and so forth. My boss knows that Myers Point is practically right there. She knows that cruising out for a quicky survey or swinging down by Stewart Park to follow up reports of a Merlin are excellent for freeing the mind so that I'll be more productive when I get back to my computer. My boss knows, too, that a little extra birding time now and again will made up, sometimes at agonizing hours. I am, you see, my boss, so I know that my boss is well aware of all this. THE CUP: I see. And since this "refresher time" resulted in a few more species this year, which one was your favorite? WELLS: The Buff-breasted Sandpiper was certainly gorgeous, and I love golden plovers--they have this sort of naive look about them, sort of like I do (right?) THE CUP: No comment. And you boys? KELLING: Buff-breasted Sandpiper. Karl and Bill's find at MNWR is, to me at least, the most mysterious, exotic and beautiful of all North American shorebirds. DAVID: Buff-breasted Sandpiper, because just about everybody else got to see it, too. THE CUP: Oh, spare us the propaganda! DAVID: I must admit, there's a little bit of bitterness associated with this bird as well: When Bill Evans and I found it, it became my third year bird for the day, and I thought my lead was good for several more weeks, at least while I watched everybody else scramble to catch up. We see how well that worked. THE CUP: Certainly it was hard sharing the glory with not one but two other Cuppers. Do you have any drastic measure planned to ensure this won't happen again? KELLING: No, I like the tie. THE CUP: How very sweet (WIMP!). Karl, how about you, any plans? DAVID: Yes. I'll spend another umpteen hours calling in vain for Barred Owl and miss Olive-sided Flycatcher for the year for the first time ever. That will tuck me comfortably in just behind the leaders [see Nix drafting strategy from Coach's Corner, The Cup 1.7] until the final sprint. WELLS: I'll stick with my usual plan and that is to follow the advice of my Coaches. The "family time" thing works well in my family, too, since my spouse, you all know, is in the David Cup as well. He still thinks he's going to win, by the way. THE CUP: Since you've already shared with us in previous Kickin' Tail interviews with The Cup what your favorite color is, can you tell us instead what you're favorite flavor of ice cream is? DAVID: Just plain vanilla, thank you. Though I'm thinking of giving carrot cake, which I tried once and hated, another try. Maybe it'll improve my night vision enough that I can finally get that danged white whale, I mean Barred Owl. WELLS: It used to be mint chocolate chip until I read in the last issue of The Cup all the trouble that flavor caused [see News, Cues, and Blues, The Cup 1.7]. Now I've switched to chocolate peanut butter. Calories aside, it seems harmless enough. KELLING: I don't have a favorite. It is a mood swing type of thing. THE CUP: What do you predict your total will be at the end of next month, and what will you give other Cuppers if you're wrong? KELLING: 245, and a small piece of hard candy. THE CUP: Perhaps Lifesavers would be appropriate. Karl, how about you? DAVID: At the end of September? 246. If that's high, I'm out of the competition and who cares what I'm willing to give everyone. If it's low, I'll probably be leader again and I'll give everyone my backside to take potshots at. WELLS: 246, because that's what Karl chose and I don't want to give the impression that I'm backing down. Regardless of whether I'm too high, too low, or right on, I'll give every other Cupper what I've been giving them all along: the chance to place higher than me! THE CUP: Thank you all. You have made this issue The Cup worth reading. And if you believe that, there's a Roseate Spoonbill down at the swan pen at Stewart Park even as we speak... ??????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ???????????????????????? PIONEER PRIZE ?????????????????????????????? ??????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? The editors of The Cup, through statistically significant birding polls and by gathering clues left in the mud at various birding hotspots, have determined that recognition is in order for the Cupper who has braved wind, rain, ice, and snow in a quest for new David Cup birds for us all to enjoy. Equally weighty in this award category is prompt notification to other Cuppers of said sightings, be it via e-mail, phone line, dramatic hand signals, or ghostwriting. We, the editors of The Cup, hereby bestow August's Pioneer Prize to Tom Nix. Yes, yes, we know it was Karl David and Bill Evans who first found the Buff-breasted Sandpipers and Wilson's Phalaropes at Montezuma, but keep in mind that Karl had August--and the rest of the summer--off (he is, need you be reminded, a college professor--a seasonal job) and Bill needs absolutely no sleep these days, what with night migration coming into its own again. That Bill and Karl find goodies is not only expected, it's demanded of them. Tom, on the other hand, poor Tom. He has a killer nine-to-fiver and must squeeze in his finds in his "spare time". Moreover, the joy he brought to countless downtrodden birders that moment at Montezuma in the encroaching darkness when he sweetly announced, "I've relocated the Buff-breasted Sandpiper," well, you just had to be there. Most importantly, he's been wearing his David Cup T-shirt. Tom, to you a prestigious, teal BLUE David Cup Pencil! : >: > : > : > : > : > : > : > CASEY'S CALL : >: > : > : > : > : > : > : > PHOTO NOT AVAILABLE Maybe he went overboard in his savoring of his last month of freedom, ah, summer vacation and forgot about his responsibilities here at The Cup. Maybe during his summer break he lost his knack to produce scholarly yet witty pieces of literature. Maybe he became a slouch and figured no one would notice. Maybe he just plain doesn't care anymore... (Casey Sutton, who initiated and, well, used to write this column [on his own] is now a seventh grader at DeWitt Middle School. One more slip-up like this, punk, and your so-called column will come bin to bin with oblivion.) """"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""" SCRAWL OF FAME """"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""" Kurt Fox's recent discovery of "decent" (and therefore by default, "indecent") birds was not only brilliant, it was timely. Case in point: Jeff and I were at Montezuma the other night, admiring the audacity of two Hudsonian Godwits parading around their obnoxious bills, when a Peregrine Falcon swung by for some take-out at May's Pool. There was a scattering of peeps (most, we assumed, had either already joined the Peregrine for lunch or else had fled for less intimidating feeding grounds--La Guardia Airport, perhaps.) Okay, we know the Peregrine needs to eat (it puts in a harder day's work then, say, Ken Rosenberg), but when we (Jeff and I and a nice lady also there at the corral) saw the B52 honing in on the paper airplane piloted by the Semipalmated Sandpiper, we couldn't help but root for the underdog. The Semi went down in a matter of seconds--there was a spray of water on the far side of the pool, then a desperate flutter of little wings. "Get up! Hurry up! Get out of there!" we three yelled to the peep, eschewing the propriety expected of birders, Cuppers in particular. The Peregrine wheeled around--we could see the slick and deadly bullet sliding into the chamber--but a nanosecond before pulling the trigger, the falcon veered off, leaving us quite certain that it had sensed our distress and opted to place his order later, when there was no one around to take offense at his meal preparations . Of course we felt sorry for the hungry bird, so we gestured a thanks--a "decent" bird if we've ever met one--and cheered the sandpiper. But-- BAM!--it was too late. A Great Blue Heron--yes, a Great Blue Heron!--put the hammer down on the poor little peep before any of us could cry, "Cannibal!" Worse, as the Semi struggled, perhaps slightly wounded and certainly tired from it's tete-a-tete with the Peregrine, the heron tweezed it into its bill then flung it repeatedly this way and that. The peep fluttered and squirmed as the heron tried in vein to swallow its cousin whole. The heron, need I point out, was behaving "indecently," to say the least. In the end, the sandpiper lost the battle and the war, and the heron was forced to leave its bounty for some lucky gull. But where, I can't help but wonder, does all this leave Jeff and me (and that nice lady there with us at the corral)? Seeing that heron jabbing and tossing the pathetic peep was more than a little disturbing. Yet we watched. We watched through our binoculars, moaning and groaning over the grotesque scene. And when we couldn't see the details well enough--Is the heron actually stabbing the sandpiper, or just picking it up in its mandibles?--we turned our scopes upon the sorry plight. The "decent" Peregrine Falcon. The "indecent" Great Blue Heron. Which bird were we? Maybe we're better off not knowing. (Allison Wells is a writer and editor. She doesn't mind scrounging up fill for "Scrawl of Fame" when Kevin McGowan says he'll write something for the column and then forgets. But she'd prefer not to.) (In other words, we have not been inundated with submissions, folks. This is your chance to show your intelligence, wit, vanity, and to prove that you have nothing better to do. If you have an opinion about the art, science, and/or esthetics of birding or birding-related topics, write it up for the Scrawl of Fame.) <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< < COACH'S CORNER < < <<<<<<<<<<<<<<< < < < < < < < < With night migration upon us, who has crept out of the woodwork? Bill Evans, of course. Bill, you see, is a connoisseur of things that go "brewzzn" in the night. What does this have to do with you? What does anything Bill says here have to do with you? Read on. You may be surprised (some of you more than others...) COACH EVANS: Birders of all sorts pass through the Cayuga Lake Basin. We observe birds through the window of our tiny little minds but have at our access an aggregate of observations from the past--"Five Nation" Native American lore, Kingbird records, and if we dig, unpublished modern avian records and local here say. This, of course, leads to two primary principles involved in big year competition: 1) Tiny minds working together can accrue more species. 2) Past avian occurrence patterns can be mined for big year rewards. These principles have been amply discussed by the other coaches. I echo them because they are still important factors down the road to December 31st. An example of principle #1: Ned Brinkley's solo 245 total in the Cayuga Lake Basin in 1991 (he all but took the year off from his Ph.D.) compared with Ned's and Adam Byrne's 254, Karl David's 245, and my 241 in the legendary 1992 big year. Ned may well have spent more time in the field in 1991, but the group effort in 1992 propelled all us to new big year highs. Tom Nix's bicycle "drafting" is a great analogy (The Cup 1.7). An example of principle #2: Studying birdlore from 50+ years ago seems unlikely to be productive for current big year competitions due to the inevitable changes through time (but who today checks the middle of Cayuga Lake for flocks of Red Phalaropes, anyway?). However, Steve Kelling heard of Dick Fischer's (retired Cornell Prof. Emeritus of Envir. Cons.) sightings during the 1950's and 1960's of Bohemian Waxwings in the Mt. Pleasant area. Steve knew that 1996 was a Bohemian invasion year by listening to hotline reports across the Northeast, and by following up on Fischer's clue he scored for us all! There may be other old secrets to birding the C. Basin that have become lost to modern knowledge--like an old field north of Seneca Falls where the hissy screech of the Barn Owl can be heard on a quiet summer night. When Greg Butcher (now Executive Director of the American Birding Association) was still director of Bird Population Studies at the Lab of Ornithology, he told me that he felt there was secret knowledge of bird distribution in the C. Basin that one had to sort of be initiated into. Keep digging! Of course, one needs to carefully sift through the reality of past records. I was having beers recently with former Federation of New York Bird Clubs President Charlie Smith and embellishing to him my disgruntledness concerning the inaccuracy of a recent report in Audubon's "Field Notes" (the quarterly continent-wide summary of bird observations) stating Worm-eating Warblers were on the increase in our area. The report was based on the few recent sightings in the C. Basin, but the fact is, no one ever checked those sites for Worm-eaters before and we don't have a clue what's going on with this species in our region. Charlie's response was something on the order of "for all practical purposes, many Kingbird reports must be regarded as anecdotal." One also must evaluate the credibility of the others involved in the competition. An intrinsic factor in big year competition is that one can't compete successfully without chasing the good sightings of others. This is where the team work involved can push the competition to really high season tallies. Though if you are fooled into chasing every reported rarity, you can waste valuable time and loose your morale. As the drama of the big year unfolds, the mill of credibility is constantly at work crushing infirm sightings. Keep an eye out for the tell-tale string of rarities reported by an overzealous birder. For example, one individual's reports in the early 1990's of Brewer's Blackbird, Buff-breasted Sandpiper, and Sedge Wren, though they may in fact have been valid, became generally regarded as symptomatic rebound sightings because of the way they closely followed other well-documented reports of these species. On the other hand, though Raven is now a regularly reported species (and indeed nests) in the C. Basin, previous Kingbird editors were dubious of raven reports identified by voice in the mid-1980's, sighting the likely confusion with juvenile Am. Crow vocalizations. The rash of "anecdotal" raven reports in the mid-1980's may, in fact, have been the vanguard of reality! It is generally advisable to spend as much time as possible birding with others, rather than alone. Not only must one evaluate the credibility of others, but one must maintain one's own standing. Even the best of birders can fall victim. Andy Farnsworth reported 262 in the 1992 competition, and though it may have been a valid season total, it was largely not accepted by the birding pack that year. Andy was relatively new on the scene and typically birded alone. It was inevitable that many of his sightings were not seen by the others and the credibility of his reported total suffered the political consequences. I heard a story about a competition for the all-time Colorado list record. The group of leaders had been involved with the competition for many years, and apparently the race had become rather bitter. One man called in a false report to the hotline to lead one of the other competitors astray (an 80+ year old man). The old guy went on the long trek to find the nonexistent rarity and nearly died from heat exhaustion. We in the David Cup, at least at present, have not reached such devious levels of competition. Indeed, we are in the infancy of big year competition in the C. Basin and we are still relatively innocent, kind, and sharing. So far there has been little reason to be otherwise. Up until this month just about anyone still had a chance to win, but now, each passing day of September whittles away at that possibility. In fact, by the time this issue of The Cup comes to press, the sprint toward the finish line will be well underway. As we head into fall there will be fewer and fewer new species to find in order to make up ground. It is at this stage of the competition that the inner game can be so important, and, there are other ways to pick up ground in the competition than by seeing new year birds. For example, as the competition heats up, rare sightings made by just one individual can come under increasing scrutiny. Even sightings from earlier in the season can come under attack. Cracks of doubt exist in many sightings. When such doubts are brought to consciousness, the pressure can cause the crack to expand like an infected wound. Jaeger-like pursuit of such sightings can test their strength and may force the weakened birder to ultimately disgorge the sighting all together, enabling the others to pick up ground in the competition. Pack politics is especially productive in such a hunt. We witnessed Steve Kelling's Kentucky Warbler disgorgal early in the season. Jeff and Allison Wells recently fended off Kevin McGowan's stoop upon their Whip-poor-will report (regarding whether it was in the C. Basin or not) and Ken Rosenberg swiftly eluded my playful dive on his Whimbrel (concerning whether he eliminated the possibility of several Asian curlew species). In general, as the scores in the competition start to settle, the psychological jockeying and inner game will increase. For Curtis Marantz, a visiting researcher at the Lab last spring, his inner game was to blatantly pronounce that if he were involved he would win without a question! From the ranks of birders involved with the competition, we will hear various "amount of time spent in the field" arguments. Birders with families start to play the "time with the family" card, Sapsuckers incessantly stress the time they missed in spring migration. Purists point of that it's the quality that counts and finding a cool bird on your own is better than chasing one down. But the reality of the competition is that the higher number wins. The trick is to navigate through the morass of whining, set your sites on the birder ahead of you, and kick their ass down the stretch! Each big year is like a fine wine with a flavor all its own, composed of each birder's sequence of species sightings, the shared great birds, and the various dramas of the competition. December 31st will soon be upon us. Imagine finding yourself one or two birds behind your nemesis. As you head out the door to Lettie Cook Forest to search for Pine Grosbeak, Black-backed Woodpecker and Boreal Chickadee in bitter windchills, your rival gloats over an omelette and hot chocolate at Andy's Third Street Cafe. You may regret not making that extra trip to Montezuma or Allan Treman State Park in September! Now, for anyone that needs Gray-cheeked Thrush, let me know. I will be leading a trip to Mount Pleasant to hear their night flight calls sometime in the last week of September. (Bill Evans is a Research Associate at the Lab of O. He can be see in the early morning--not too early--paying homage to the lighthouse jetty god.) mmmmm mmmmmmmmmmmmmm McILROY MUSINGS mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm mmmmm Ode to Allison* by John Keats My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk: 'Tis not through envy of they happy lot, But being too happy in thine happiness,-- That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees, In some melodious plot Of beechen green, and shadows numberless, Singest of summer in full-throated ease. (*An excerpt. NOTE: This poem is known to lesser audiences as "Ode to A Nightingale." John Keats, a would-be Cupper, resides permanently in England.) ====================================================== BIRD BRAIN OF THE MONTH ====================================================== Ned Brinkley Since its maiden voyage back in early February, references to, Cup quotes by, and other subtle slip-ins regarding one Ned Brinkley have been turning up in the pages of The Cup. Many Cup readers were not "in the scene" when Ned WAS the scene and thus have been showering us with e-mail messages to the likes of "Ned Brinkley? You mean the news guy from '60 Minutes'?" and "Who is this Ned of whom you speak?" Ned, a play-by-play fan of the David Cup/McIlroy races and devoted reader of The Cup, has graciously agreed to be this month's Bird Brain (thereby subliminally establishing that he should be crowned, "Wayward Son of the Madness). Now, you'll all no doubt recall that Ned has a way with words [see Coach's Corner, The Cup 1.2], so we thought that rather than cut, splice, and rewire the way we usually do in this column, we'd let Ned speak for himself. WE SAID: How long in fact have you been a birder, Ned? How did you first get interested? Can you remember the moment you knew there was no turning back, that you were hooked? HE SAID: My first birding experience was unforgettable: I was kidnapped, or so it felt at first, by older (60-70 year-old) women who were both birders and botanists, at five in the morning and taken into the Dismal Swamp in southeastern Virginia on an early May morning, right around my sixth birthday. We went in at Jericho Ditch, now one of the stellar points of entry into what is now the Great Dismal Swamp National Wildlife Refuge -- but what was then just lumber company property. That would have been May 1971, and the trip leader was David Hughes, one of the only other males on the trip. I have been a disciple of that swamp ever since, its smells, its juniper water, its amphibian choruses, its raucous gangs of Barred Owls, its migrant flocks in spring. The sense of home that I have there is overwhelming, and I have never missed a spring there. Anyhow, on that particular field trip, I remember the incredible frustration of not being able to see all the birds called out that I had studied in my small-format Golden Guide and in the musty old copy of the Peterson guide: Black-and-white Warbler, Prairie Warbler, Swainson's Warbler, Black-throated Blue Warbler (this one seemed especially incredible to me), Ruby-throated Hummingbird. These were only inches away at times, but I didn't yet know how to look. I was always (and continue to be) easily frustrated with learning what appear to be simple skills, and I recall vowing to myself then and there that I would learn these birds as I got older (and more able to control where I went) and would also work to help other people to learn to see them. By fits and starts, I've made good to myself on that vow born of frustration. But those women also gave me a gift (most have long since passed on, but I birded with some of them well into my twenties), and that was the encouragement to develop an unabashedly aesthetic relationship with the out-of-doors generally, and in particular with its inhabitants like birds and plants. Make no mistake, these "ladies" as they were called back then (many were unmarried or widowed) were no creampuffs: they went through bogs on their hands and knees with magnifying lenses and wrote papers identifying new species of moss for the state of Virginia. The one consolation of that morning in 1971 was seeing one of the last Dwarf Trillium in bloom for the season, an endangered species that is common in a few secret spots in the Swamp. That I could see. And their reverence for it -- not because it was rare, but because it had "spirit" -- was really infectious. I wish every school-age child could have such gentle, and such intellectually powerful, mentors at an early age. The tone of these forays was always hyberbolic: every picnic was "the most wonderful," every sunrise "the most disarming" they had ever seen. Life became richer and more wonderful as it continued. The victuals they ate for lunch in the forest were all new to me: liverwurst sandwiches, cucumber slices, turkey pate. Their conversations never excluded me, but somehow they managed to discuss just how they had kicked such-and-such corporate polluter's ass in court -- but with such delicacy. They exploited their society's consistent underestimation of their worth and acumen (as mere "little old ladies in tennis shoes") to their advantage. If the male establishment never took their threats seriously, BOOOM, here was the new Endangered Species Act and other legislation. And they had 'em by the rubber parts, overnight! (But in more delicate language to be sure. Nevertheless, the look in their eyes during such exchanges always hinted at a particular kind of glee in the victory: "gotcha, bastard!") They worked tirelessly to build the National Audubon Society, and I think in fact those fancy Broadway offices and those fat salaries at NAS were brokered on the stooped backs of these early crusaders. Whenever I feel angry or impatient or frustrated, I always have the memory of these women to recenter me, to make me laugh at myself and see the big picture. So birding has never been merely about birds for me -- birding was the only conceivable way that I as a small child could be admitted without hesitation or condescension into the company of adults who saw the world more as I did: frogs, snakes, birds, and flowers were simply incredible -- an ancient, shamanistic relation to a planet felt to be, well, magical. Most children are born with this sense, but it is taken away from them instead of developed. WE SAID: What do you do for a living, and what on earth does this have to do with birds and birding? HE SAID: Right now I teach Germanic languages, cultural studies, comparative literature and film in a Department of German. It's okay but mostly it's a grind like any other job that keeps you out of the field. However, being at a University is good because you can do Interlibrary Loan to get bird articles. I expect to be fired in 2000, when I'm up for tenure. But that's part of the plan. My colleagues are colossal weenies. WE SAID: What brought you to Ithaca, and how long did you bird in the Basin? HE SAID: To be honest, I think it was all the nifty stuff I got from the Lab of O. as a kid. I wrote the Lab in pencil when I was about 10 and got all this cool stuff in the mail, including a very supportive, personal letter and a 45-rpm record with a long version of the only tape-recording of Ivory-billed Woodpecker. I still listen to that, during big thunderstorms. Back then, birding was small; some of the birds were more abundant then, but you always felt, I suppose, like one of the second-century Christians when you met another birder -- it was always such a thrill, no matter how bizarre the person was (and back then, birders as a whole seemed to me to be a lot more eccentric than the birders of the 1980s and 1990s). Everyone simply knew everyone else who birded within a 250-mile radius or so, or at least had read the name in print. Anyhow, I came to grad school there in Comparative Literature because I got a five-year fellowship from the Mellon foundation and because I thought cold long winters (and the boreal avifauna) would be great. After seven winters up there, I think I like the climate of Virginia better, but oh how I miss the birding community in Ithaca. Nothing like it exists anywhere else, as far as I can tell -- not in California, not in Cape May, exactly. I hear English birders have jazz nights and pub nights, so maybe it's a little like southern England. WE SAID: Do you think birding kept you from getting your graduate degree earlier than you would have otherwise, and if so, isn't this a good thing? HE SAID: I had to struggle with this a lot. I had sworn off hardcore birding up there during coursework. And I might have succeeded in staying on the wagon had it not been for one roguish, long-haired student who stumbled into my "Nature and the North American Narrative" seminar in January of 1990. That being Adam Michael Byrne. I often have students relate the most embarrassing event of their lives on the first day, to break the ice a bit, and I always tell them something about myself. Byrne and I both used birding stories (the same ones -- about being kidded by fellow students, "looking for Buff-breasted Mattress-Thrashers" sort of jokes, but others more venomous as well). And so it began. Byrne says: "Come on, you gotta get Dickcissel on your Basin list for the year, and I'm going with Dorothy McIlroy and Dick Evans to chase one at Taughannock Falls State Park after class." Thus began the precipitous decline of my sanity and the resurrection of competitive birding in my twenties. (Mind you, I was still driving down to Virginia for every new state bird, 8-12 hours one way...) A Basin list? It seemed absurd. It seemed provincial. It... well,... it had a nice ring to it, kinda... WE SAID: You were part of the pre-David Cup "competitions" and general Basin birding scene. In what ways has making the competition "official" changed the scene from your point of view? HE SAID: All positive changes. Much more democratic in spreading the word on the tougher species, much more systematically connected (as long as you've got the computer!), and much more invigorated overall--even as a Spectator Sport from down here! I love the quotes from everyone in The Cup -- no one seems to give a hoot where they are in the standings (except Karl of course, but then Karl has the honor of his Cup to defend!), but the synergy of all these people participating makes my head spin. Look at how much more has been learned about warbler distribution in the Basin (and its borders) in this decade alone. Good golly -- who knew in 1987, when I moved up there, that the Basin had such strong populations of Mourning and Cerulean Warblers, much less Worm-eating Warblers? I don't think I ever really discovered much up there -- usually just took advice on birding from Bill Evans and then tried it (hawk watches, lake watches, etc.) till I dropped from exhaustion. Bill's prophetic powers seemed limitless then, and I don't see any reason to change that evaluation now, after a few more years' experience birding to the south. The lessons may have seemed simple -- "Read everything, know the habitat selection and migratory window of every species, and follow these out to the logical conclusions, and you'll find the bird" -- but the effect was often mind-blowing: those early days with 8-10 Golden Eagles over Mount Pleasant always come to mind. Miracles at Varna, NY. I'll always be grateful for that kind of mentoring in particular. WE SAID: About your much-talked about 254 Basin year total. How did your Big Year come into being? How did you talk Adam Byrne into joining the madness with you? What was Karl David's shifty-eyed roll in this? HE SAID: To be honest, I can't even remember there ever being a really Official Decision. It was really just mutual goading and baiting among Adam, Karl, Bill, and myself, during a year in which we were all trying to see as many new Basin birds as we could. I had really given up on it by the fall, but Adam and Karl continued to cajole. It was the first of October or so, and I'd been really too busy to do long drives during the early part of the semester, and I thought I'd been skunked on a lot of stuff. One last burst up to Montezuma, though, produced Merlin, Baird's Sandpiper, Red-necked Phalarope, and something else (forgotten!) -- and that reinvigorated the game all over again. Karl was the scorekeeper and main gadfly in the entire event, and Bill and Adam were just as ebullient, just as insane, both with fiendish grins and maniacal Boris-and-Natasha laughs to keep the sport going for twelve months. No chase was too absurd or too ill-timed to be executed. Looking back on it, I have to say that it was more about the human relationships than the birds per se -- though seeing a variety of birds was wonderful. It was about acumen, stamina, extremity, credibility, recklessness, but mostly about fellowship. It wasn't entirely pretextual, no, but it was a chance to be in constant communion with three excellent fellow-travelers. I might regret the compromise of other human relationships in that year, but I would do the same thing again -- any day. WE SAID: For those who hadn't subscribed yet when you were the Coach for The Cup, what was required of you time wise in getting that magnificent 254? HE SAID: As Coach David said recently, "I'm in deep denial. Can we change the subject?" There weren't many days in the year that I wasn't afield. I kept track but can't find those notes -- it was over 310 days afield for some length of time I believe. Mostly that meant just a quick drive to Stewart Park or to Myers Point or to a little migrant spot. But I think I went 'round the lake about 40 times or more. Most trips produced only the expected species. Thank Allah I drove a Toyota Corolla then. WE SAID: What's it like to watch this thing unfold from your post in Virginia? HE SAID: Heaven and hell. I love the melee, the fracas, the melange -- what word am I looking for? I love the way you guys support each other and laugh with each other -- and a real spirit of competition always has this affection at base. But currently I have no one to bird with down here, except when I drive to the coast (three hours away), and birding solo just isn't the same. I saw a Connecticut Warbler and a Kentucky Warbler this morning in the same patch of Jewelweed on Afton Mountain (24 August). Both are really good finds, and their migration windows don't overlap much. Like many people, I have a real love of Oporornis warblers. But there was no one to share them with, and that diminished the moment (ah... even though the Conn. Warbler was #293 for the year in VA). I remember moments like that in the first few years I started leading field trips for the Cayuga Bird Club, with Sue Seely, Kevin McGowan, Gladys Birdsall, Linda Clougherty, Barbara LeGendre and Bob Meade, the Witmans, Warren Currier and Dick Evans (God rest their hearty souls), Marty Schlabach, the Ords, Nancy Ruffing, J. J. O'Malley, and so many others -- when the Lawrence's Warbler popped out into the bush with the Cape May, or the Virginia Rail scolded on the railroad track, the triple rainbow at Montezuma, endless memories -- and the expressions of true wonder of those friends magnified the moment beyond anything I could write here. These are the things that solder souls together across time and space. For some reason, the Finger Lakes area is blessed with an abundance of good karma like this. And an overabundance of truly smelly puns. WE SAID: What's the rarest bird you saw in the Basin (rare for the Basin, that is)? HE SAID: Hmmm. I don't know. On face value (number of records), I suppose a Mississippi Kite over Potters Falls off Rte 79 while sunbathing. But that is a familiar species from home and is expanding north rapidly, more or less an expected vagrant. I found a number of Thayer's Gulls in the Basin, but they're also expected. A Harris's Sparrow was just outside the Basin at Groton, still the only one I've seen. My favorite solo vagrant was a flock of King Eiders seen from the Mount Pleasant watch -- or maybe a Red Phalarope just off O'Malley's Restaurant in Sheldrake; the best communal moment had to be listening to Nelson's Sharp-tailed Sparrows singing one rainy night in April at the Cayuga Marsh, with most of the Club. Biggest disappointment: I never saw a jaeger or a Sabine's Gull in October. WE SAID: Where else in the world have you birded? Where would you like to go someday? HE SAID: I've birded east and central Africa, Antarctica, Argentina, Mexico, the Caribbean, Bermuda, Guatemala, western Europe, Iceland, and lots in the Gulf Stream off North Carolina. Next May and June I'll be birding the Aleutians one by one from a ship, then over to the Commander and Kurile Islands. I'd most like to bird Greenland next, during fall migration if possible. I like islands a lot. WE SAID: Do you come back to Ithaca much now that you're living in Virginia? If so, might we talk you into becoming a Temporary Cupper? HE SAID: My Cup possibilities are limited -- hey, that's not what I meant, wiseguys. But I may pass through for a Thanksgiving reunion with Dorothy Crumb and Jean Skelly and crowd up at Buffalo (gull mania time...). I'd love to sit around that greasy spoon near Stewart Park, have a coffee and catch up with everyone. WE SAID: Thank you, Ned, it's been a pleasure. But really, you should skip the greasy spoon. (Ned Brinkley teaches Germanic literature and other courses at the University of Virginia. According to the American Birding Association, Brinkley is the Big Day record holder for Germany and also for Iceland, although he is better known for dubbing Karl David "Father of the Madness".) @#$$%#%$^!(*$)%^@>(#?@<$&%^@( DEAR TICK @#%$^!)$(%*&^>$*%?<!>*%^#*%(*& Because birders suffer so many unique trials and tribulations, The Cup has graciously provided Cuppers with a kind, sensitive and intuitive columnist, Dear Tick, to answer even the most profound questions, like these... DEAR TICK: During the Olympics, NBC was criticized for broadcasting taped events as though they were live. This brings up the oft-recognized problem with heard-only birds: how do you know you weren't listening to someone else playing a tape? But here's a new objection. It has to do with the fact that light travels at, well, the speed of light, whereas sound crawls along at a pathetic 700+ mph. That means that that Barred Owl you heard half a mile away may well have just cooked its very last meal for you all and been instantly killed (by lightning, for example) before the sound ever reaches you! How about that? --Plausibly Live in Aurora Dear Plausibly Live: Let's assume, since some postings on Cayugabirds-L suggest it to be true, that there is life on other planets. Let's say that these life forms find Cuppers a pitiful lot (not a real stretch, is it?) and because they feel sorry for them, are following the David Cup/McIlroy races from their living rooms light-years away. Following your "logic," you're dead. How about that? DEAR TICK: Lately I've read so many posts about all the great shorebirds up at Montezuma NWR. Well, I went up to do some bird watching and there was hardly anything around besides a few ducks and geese. Is this what people mean by "Montezuma's Revenge"? --Disappointed in Seneca Falls Dear Disappointed: My friend, if you had "Montezuma's Revenge," you wouldn't be writing me for verification. Perhaps a trip to Mexico would be in order. DEAR TICK: I was talking with some other Cuppers recently and it occurred to us that Wal-Mart and other stores offer special deals like "Buy two get one free". I wish the David Cup committee would agree to a similar offer, maybe a "find two, tick one free"? --Wheeling and Dealing in Stewart Park Dear Wheeling and Dealing: Don't you read the papers? Wal-Mart has been banned from Ithaca soil. The same could very well happen to the David Cup if you keep pushing this "deal" thing. Be careful with your wishes. They just might come true. DEAR TICK: I am typing this for my dog who is a Cupper. She is pretty ticked off that a fellow "Cupper" stole her shorebird joke (the one with the "Ruff!" punch line) and then posted it to Cayugabirds-L without so much as an acknowledgment, much less a thank you. Since she's the nonviolent type, she was wondering if you could "get" the joke stealing "Cupper" the next time you see him. Two suggestions she has are a) biting him, and b) tinkling on his foot. Thanks, Tick, --Timmy and Lassie in Lansing P.S. Keep those ticks on the Basin list and out of your fur. Dear Timmy: Tell Lassie she's barking up the wrong advice columnist. I've got enough trouble keeping Sleepy in Ithaca and now some goon from Aurora under control. By the way, I don't have a problem with ticks in my fur. They do, however, get under my skin. DEAR TICK: I lost my year list. Can I still play? --Organizationally Impaired in Freeville Dear Impaired: Of course you can still play. What difference does a list make? As I understand it, the leading three Cup totals are merely "best guesses," based more on what the beholders felt they deserved, rather than on what they actually saw. If you're so disorganized as to have lost your list, chances are it's because you're spending most of your time birding. Go ahead, give it your best guess. And don't forget to include those rarities you were entitled to see but somehow missed. I'm looking forward to reading your Kickin' Tail interview next month! (Send your questions for Dear Tick to The Cup, care of Jeff's e-mail.) """"""""" CUP QUOTES """""""" "Hejsan! I'm back from my stay in Sweden, and I thought I'd say hi to you, the dynamic David Cup duo. I sent you a message from Sweden in mid-July, with my May total (better late than never) and a desperate plea for a paper copy of the latest Cup..." --Matt Medler "You've done it again with a great Cup! I can't wait to show it to my beloved Elaine so she can read all the neat stuff you wrote about me!" --Karl David "I finally figured out that my REAL problem was that there IS NO Wegman's on St. Paul Boulevard!" [see "100 Club," The Cup 1.7] --Tom Lathrop "I happen to have inside information that Karl David is now the proud owner of a top-of-the-line spotting scope. To think of all the great birds Karl's been finding without a scope, with this new set of glass he should be truly dangerous!" --Ken Rosenberg "Do you believe I left our scope at the house in CT? I've probably shot myself in the foot for late summer shorebirding, haven't I?" --Larry Springsteen "Finally got my copy of 'Birds of the Cayuga Lake Basin' and what luck--our house falls nicely into the upper north west corner of the map!" --Mary Catherine Heidenreich "Unless I can count birds from Arizona, Costa Rica and Panama I am afraid my total is the same as it was last month." --John Bower "Scan the orange part of the sky, out over the loosestrife!" --Tom Nix (at Montezuma NWR,8/24) "There must be ten's of thousands, maybe a million swallows up there!" --Jeff Wells (at Montezuma NWR, 8/24) "You mean that's not smoke, those are all swallows?" --Casey Sutton (at Montezuma NWR, 8/24) "We'll have to count them by logarithms!" --Ralph Paonessa (at Montezuma NWR, 8/24) "I'm glad they're on our side!" --Allison Wells (at Montezuma NWR, 8/24) "How do they keep from smashing into each other without an air traffic controller?!" --Scott Mardis (at Montezuma NWR, 8/24) "Haven't had much time for birding, but I did get pulled over and questioned by some befuddled cops who couldn't tell I wasn't a hoodlum but a moth collector. What else would I be doing at 3 am except for owling or nighthawking?" --James Barry "It's too bad that you didn't get my message from Sweden. I was hoping to make the Cup Quotes section with a few of my witty comments. Oh, well. I also included my totals for May, which I'm happy to say are higher than some peoples' July totals. I was at 132 when I left, with #100 being a Nashville Warbler (or was it Big Bird?). I might have to take Dennis, my Swedish friend, to Montezuma when I'm in town so that we, oops, I mean he, can see some new birds." --Matt Medler "[My total] includes Trumpeter Swan, but does not include Rainbow-billed Barking Duck." --Ralph Paonessa "I added not a bird to my Mctotal of 142." --Tom Nix "I was in Idaho/Washington most of August. I did, however, see a Ring-necked Pheasant sometime in August on Lower Creek Road, but I can't remember when, and now I can't seem to find my year list. Does this mean I have to start over again?!" --Diane Tessaglia "Quiet, peaceful, listening to the soft sounds of the quiet gurgling waters. Oh yes, how romantic... Saturday, I took my wife to our new favorite place, the Batavia Waste Water Treatment Plant." --Kurt Fox "On a canoe trip along the canal next to Montezuma, we saw one Common Nighthawk flutter by. The sighting occurred around 8:00 pm, at the same time that the swallows were gathering for their evening drinking and bathing fest." --Michael Runge "Nice to meet [Jeff] and Allison and Casey Sutton and to clear up my misapprehension about the last. I had assumed he was your [the Wells'] son and that in some sort of Southern fashion, you always called him by his first and middle names--like Willie-Mae or Billy-Joel--but I have been disabused!!" --Caissa Willmer "Hey, let's go to Myer's Point...Do they have chocolate peanut butter at that Purity ice cream place in Lansing?" --Sarah Childs "Alright! I saw a bird Sarah didn't!" --Justin Childs (cousin to Sarah) "After our chance meeting at Montezuma Saturday, I left with a heavy heart. My conscience was burdened with the obvious hurt in Jeff's voice when he spoke about his plan to save our receipts to demonstrate the financial impact by us birders around Important Bird Areas, and then he realized I hadn't even read The Cup carefully enough to learn about this proposal (was that a tear in his eye, or just the reflection of a Caspian Tern? I know not). And so it was that I removed my issue of The Cup 1.7 from it's pigskin pouch, lighted a candle, and tried to atone for my careless initial perusal. Next time I shall be more careful as I read through it diagraming the sentences. But wait! What trickery is this?! Try though I might, I can find no discussion of this avieconomic master plan in yon Cup. Do my eyes fail me? (In which case perhaps I just haven't *seen* Eskimo Curlew but it's been there all along, and I can rest easier.) Or have you sent me on a Wild White-fronted Goose Chase (and an emotional House-Finch-Flight Roller Coaster Ride as well)?" --Ralph Paonessa "I thoroughly enjoyed your belated Scrawl of Fame article. I think you did a wonderful job helping folks become more aware of some of the consequences of management that goes on at Montezuma and with the Northern Montezuma project in general. It's easy to see some of the costs/benefits to wildlife in terms of management that goes on, but it often is less clear to realize that their are consequences to communities as far away as Union Springs and even Ithaca, Rochester, and Syracuse. For example, I'll often fill my gas tank in Ithaca before embarking on a trip to Montezuma. I don't think that is simply $$ I'd spend anyway on gas because I do most of my local commuting on my bicycle. Its $$ that I can attribute directly to my birding activities, and it benefits a business here in Ithaca even though the activity itself occurs at Montezuma." --Jody Enck "How true about the Union Springs Store! I estimate that from 1987-1993, I stopped there 300 times, spending an average of $5.50 or so. Sixteen hundred dollars on drinks, chips, gas, etc!" --Ned Brinkley "Talking about good Samaritans, I lost my binoculars case three weeks ago in Connecticut Hill. I did go again two days later to look for it but did not find. So if any birder found it, would you let me know? If not, I need to buy one. So can anybody direct me how I can get one? Or is there anyone who has lost their binoculars?" --Meena Haribal "It happens I'm up at Wells on this fine Sunday afternoon, ostensibly to prepare myself for the onslaught of students tomorrow...I will almost certainly end up at Montezuma in the evening (after all, as you so well pointed out, I'm already halfway there!)" --Karl David "A fine male N.Harrier floated across E. Shore Drive up near Water Wagon Road this morning as I was driving along. That's the first I've seen this (gulp--is it really almost?) fall." --John Greenly "Roll your windows down so we can hear Sedge Wren." --Jeff Wells May Your Cup Runneth Over, Allison and Jeff |
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