It’s 5:00 a.m. and my headlamp is casting a narrow beam across the gray stones of the Josephine Saddle trail. Several miles into the canyon, binoculars at the ready, I listen for a barking krup, krup, krup and watch for a flash of ruby, emerald, and copper in the sycamores straddling the stream. But there’s no sign of the elegant trogon.
These gaudy, paunchy, jewel-colored birds rarely venture north of the Mexican border — except for a few secluded canyons in Arizona’s Santa Rita Mountains. Only the strange coincidences of ecology could bring me more than 2,000 miles across the country to stumble along a trail before dawn, attempting to bark like a Mexican bird in the hope of a reply.
But the bird just wasn’t there.
The only word running through my head isn’t fit for print. This was my one chance to find the trogon, and the stupid bird wasn’t there.
It’s my deep, secret, and possibly unfounded belief that most birders experience this occasional rage. (If they don’t, they’re either better people than I am or they’re lying.) The birding community even has a word for these epic birding fails: nemesis birds. The more times you fail to see a bird, the greater a nemesis it becomes.
Elegant trogon: 1, Justine Hausheer: 0.
The trogon wasn’t the only bird I missed that morning — gale-force gusts from the desert floor kept the trogons, warblers, and many other species silent during my 30-hour stay in Madera Canyon. Nor was that my first bad day in my admittedly short and almost entirely U.S.-based birding career.
Woodpecker finches in the Galapagos? I have no idea… trying to tell most Darwin’s finch species apart is an exercise in humiliation and despair.
Short-tailed hawks on Florida’s Lake Wales Ridge? After 6 hours tramping through the scrub my only souvenir was 60+ chigger bites.
Northern saw-whet and flammulated owls in the Colorado foothills? Unlike the birders, the birds decided not to traipse around in a 35-degree hailstorm.
But for every great bird I miss, another stunner just about falls into my lap when I least expect it.
A now-infamous snowy owl turned up on a parking garage sign in downtown Washington D.C. on a dreary January afternoon, a sighting about as likely as finding a bull moose munching roses on the capital lawn.
I nearly tripped over a pair of courting Nazca boobies on Isla Genovesa, and the male gently placed a twig at my feet. I won’t flatter myself — it was clearly meant for his lady friend — but I fell in love nonetheless.
On Merritt Island, a Florida scrub-jay perched on my head for several minutes, apparently convinced I had some snacks hidden under my hat. And my lifer limpkin nearly crashed into my car while I was parked near a power-plant-turned-wetland.
I’ll be the first to admit that the attempt and anticipation of chasing and landing a great bird is fun — I like listing and I like the wild goose chase it takes to find the whooping crane at the end of the rainbow. Er, marsh.
But the surprise birds are often the most memorable. And the nemesis birds are a reason to return — motivation to hike back up that trail one last time, or to stay up all night pathetically imitating an owl to a clump of sentient, silent pines.
Nature doesn’t always cooperate. And that’s okay.
No fair! You got my nemesis, the Florida scrub jay and you got a photo.
I think my nemesis bird is the brown headed cowbird. Every spring he sits on my windsheild squawking at himself in our rearview mirrors. He leaves poop everywhere! P.S I’ve named him Lynyrd.
Thank you all for the wonderful comments! Justine left on a trip to do field reporting in Papua New Guinea very soon after this post went up. She will have a great time reading comments and responding when she gets back.
Free-loading Double-barred Finches – Once when staying in the spectacularly rugged town of Kununurra in the Kimberley region of northern Australia, I went out into a nearby national park in search of the delightful little Double-barred Finch. It was hot. Very hot! Like a trooper though I stuck with it and walked around the park but to no avail. After a few hours and near dehydration, I gave up lured by the thought of a swim in the caravan park pool back in town. When I arrived back, just before taking the cool plunge I noticed several Double-barred Finches sitting on the edge of the pool. I got my finch photo but not quite the one I wanted. A fiberglass pool edge kinda mocks the wildlife photography experience.
My top 3 nemesis birds (and how many times I’ve tried for them) are as follows:
1. Pileated Woodpecker (at least 15-20 tries.)
2. Least Flycatcher (Lost count – Probably seen it but never ID’d it)
3. Virginia’s Warbler (2 tries, but on one I missed the bird by under 10 seconds.)
I had the good fortune 10 yrs ago to view a pair of Elegant Trogans in Madera Canyon, but I live in AZ and had searched & hoped for some time. For years my nemesis was the Pileated Woodpecker; and fortunately good friends as well as a daughter’s family live in Maine. Still it took over five years of hunting & trailing until late last year on a fall hike through Wolf’s Neck Woods to spot & identify a spectacular Pileated. Worth the wait and effort!
Haha, this is great. Not a birder as such however if I have a nemesis it would have to be the orange wattled crow/South Island kokako AKA the greyghost. For quite a few years I unsuccessfully helped Rhys Buckingham in his quest to bring this bird back from extinction, and the search goes on. If you’re intrigued and want to learn more try this URL it’s a clunky site, I had to scroll down to find the information.
http://www.southislandkokako.org
For an online article that rounds it out well –
http://www.stuff.co.nz/dominion-post/capital-life/9723666/On-the-grey-ghosts-trail
There is also a facebook page but the link wouldn’t work for me.
9 days on Attu: a single Common Snipe and a single Pin-tailed Snipe.
ohhhouch.
Not a birder but was with Justine in the Galapagos. If I am ever to have an interest in birding, Justine would be the cause. She was enthusiastic, willing to share, and a joy to watch as we trooped around the Galapagos. So fun to see this article.
Elegant trogon relly? Come to Colima México we have those in Numbers waranted