A lifetime of learning about birds has given me a fairly respectable database of knowledge between my ears. Time is the real key to this sort of learning, but opportunity can be just as important. I live in the Temperate Zone well inland from the ocean in the Northeast. Thus, there are certain birds I am very familiar with while others remain something of a mystery to me. Still, when I walk out into my own yard there are few things that cause me any sort of confusion.

Few things. That is the important thing to remember. If I were to imagine my knowledge of birds as a gigantic spreadsheet, with songs, plumage, food, nest types, etc., then I could consider most of the boxes filled in with checkmarks. Or, if instead I thought of my understanding of birds like a huge puzzle, I could imagine the “Birds of the Inland Northeast” puzzle to be largely complete.

The thing about the puzzle metaphor is that the pieces aren’t all included in the box. You have to slowly find different puzzle pieces and fit them together without necessarily knowing what the puzzle looks like. Time, experience and constant study allow people to see the puzzle more clearly and eventually you have enough information to work with to understand what you are missing and where you might look to find it. Still, luck is an important ingredient in this scenario. At some point you need to get lucky.

Well folks, I am very pleased to report that luck was with me last week when I was confronted with a genuine mystery. It was Tuesday, April 14, and I stepped out onto my deck to listen for any hint of woodcock display songs coming up from the meadow out of the increasing gloom. Many friends that live at lower altitudes have reported active woodcock displays, but I haven’t heard any yet. Tuesday was not different in that respect, but extremely different in another.

Coming out of the woods to the east of the meadow was a noise that I simply couldn’t identify. It was clearly a bird, but I couldn’t identify it for the life of me. It sounded kind of like an owl, but it was no owl song that I had ever heard before. It sounded kind of like a sound that might come out of the Everglades at night, but what in the name of Nikonus was it. In my red journal I scratched, “screech owl?” with emphasis on the question mark.

The following night, I heard it again, and this time I made a recording. There were clearly two of the mystery birds and they were moving around a bit. Sometimes they were rather muted, while other times they were quite loud. The sound of peepers and white-throated sparrows in the background made the whole affair deliciously exotic and spooky. Creatures were stirring, but I had no idea what they were.

When in doubt, ask someone for help! I sent a copy of this recording to my brother, Tom. What, pray tell, is this crazy sound? The answer came back swiftly and surely. The mystery sound was the “flight winnow” of a Wilson’s snipe (Gallinago delicata). What the what? Really? I instantly went to Audubon.org, looked up the snipe and listened to the flight winnow song. Exact match. Holy Iso!

The Wilson’s snipe is one of those species that is in a section of my puzzle that is missing a few pieces. Common in our area for only three weeks in April, this bird is small, secretive and very well camouflaged. The bird could fit snugly inside a large plastic beverage cup with only its extraordinary beak sticking out. They pause in our area to tank up on fuel for their trip to Canada, where the bulk of the species’ breeding range is located. There may be a few birds that breed in our area, but we are at the extreme southern limit of their breeding range.

So, with that experience under my belt, I have now added another piece to my bird puzzle. You don’t forget a sound like that, but until you hear it you simply can’t imagine it. Now I know. And you can do the same thing, too. Go to that website and listen to the flight winnow of the snipe. Then listen to the songs of great horned owls, barred owls, screech owls, saw whet owls and mourning doves. Listen for similarities and differences (this is the study part of birding) and then go out into your yard and listen. You may be able to add a few pieces to your own puzzle and have a great time in the process.

Bill Danielson has been a professional writer and nature photographer for 22 years. He has worked for the National Park Service, the U.S. Forest Service and Massachusetts State Parks, and currently teaches high school biology and physics. Visit speakingofnature.com for more information, or go to Speaking of Nature on Facebook.

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